by Jackson, Pam
Clay felt the silk in between his fingers; it was rough and brittle from time and had frayed from someone handling it too much—most likely Claudius, since this was a personal item from the love of his life. It saddened him to hold this ribbon; the tragedy hit a tender spot in his gut, especially after he started having visions of Claudius’s death. The unimaginable heartache of losing the person you love most in the world was a real scenario, and his core wrenched with dread and pity for Claudius.
She began reading from the journal, but the handwriting and the wear on the brittle paper made it difficult for her to read aloud without hesitating. “Okay, I’ll just give you the Cliff’s Notes version, since I’ve read through this about five times already while you slept.”
“Damn, I guess I was out like a light,” Clay said, feeling annoyed with himself for submitting to his exhaustion instead of carrying out the perimeter checks he had sworn he would do.
“You needed the sleep. I probably could’ve used more, too—but then I remembered I had Claudius’s journal. So listen up. It seems that after Claudius returned to the cave and found Katherine gone, he went into a state of rage and grief. He returned to the farmer’s market in disguise, since the bounty on his capture had been raised, and more of the locals were aware of his escapades against Washington’s army. Katherine wasn’t at her usual stall selling jam and honey. He even staked out her home, but he never saw her enter the dairy barn like she’d done daily for her chores. It seemed her family was keeping her locked away from the scrutiny of curious neighbors.”
“So Claudius never saw Katherine again?”
“Patience, Clay, I’m trying to make this poetic,” she said with a grin as she took the ribbon from Clay and placed it back in the journal. “Claudius writes that one rainy afternoon in late fall, he came upon Katherine walking through the dense woods around Black Ash pond, which I’m assuming is now that dreadful place, Black Tar Swamp. Anyway, he follows her silently for some distance and then realizes she is walking too close to the edge of the cliff. He doesn’t want her to slip on the wet rocks and fall to her death, so he captures her from behind, and before she can let out a scream, he kisses her passionately. She doesn’t protest his kiss, and he leads her back to his camp, where they spend the afternoon together.”
Clay exhaled a flirtatious laugh. “Aha! So he did get the girl.”
“Yep, it sure sounds that way, but he doesn’t get into detail about their affair, only that their meetings go on for most of November and that they planned to elope. But before they do, Claudius must meet with a ‘holy man’ who wants his ‘enchanted book.’ He writes that he’s distrustful of this holy man and of their meeting, but he’s curious enough to attend.”
“A holy man? And he wanted the book ... the Atros Fallis?” Clay asked, stroking the light scruff growing at his chin and neck. “A priest or preacher? I don’t believe for one second that Claudius was going to give up the Atros Fallis ... well, at least not for gold or silver to fill more of his coffers.”
“You’re right,” Andie said as she tapped her index finger on the tanned leather of the journal. “Claudius wrote that an agent for the holy man would set the meeting up and Claudius would be paid handsomely for the Atros Fallis, but he wasn’t to tell anyone about the transaction. Claudius—being Claudius, and a wealthy businessman in his own right—decided to bring it out to a private auction. Not many takers, but he did mention a British leftenant named Samuel Espion who had also pursued Claudius for a meeting.”
“Yeah, now that’s about right ... that’s what I would do.”
Andie turned her head toward Clay. “What do you mean, it’s what you would do?”
“Well, when I work undercover with nasty organized crime bosses, sometimes you need to see who the players are. You put a hot product up for sale, whether it be stolen military arms or, unfortunately, human cargo.” Clay shook his head with disdain at the latter example. “Well, then you wait for the bidders to circle like flies to shit. What I like to do is get them all hot and bothered with the product and let them know there are other buyers involved in the deal. Then you do your surveillance—see who knows who and what alliances will be made to try and steal my product out from under me. This way, I’m prepared for double-crossing and for who’s coming heavy to the party. The last thing you want is to end up dead before you can make an arrest. Being covert often means knowing your enemies and their enemies—and what kind of leverage will make them turn on each other. It’s all about coming out on top and bagging scumbags.”
“Okay. That was way too much information, Clay, but I see your point. So Claudius puts the Atros Fallis out there and offers it up to the highest bidder, not only hoping to see its value, but also to see who wants it and why?”
“Exactly. And I must admit, your respect for espionage is starting to turn me on,” Clay said as he moved forward to place a kiss on Andie’s bare shoulder.
“Wait! What did you just say?” Andie shot to her knees and grabbed Clay’s arm.
“Umm, relax, Andie, I was just complimenting you on your quick insight into the art of spying.”
“That’s it, Clay! Espion ... the British officer, Samuel Espion, that was his name. He was also interested in the Atros Fallis. Espion means spy in French. It must’ve been a clever undercover name to use for his alias. But what would the church and a spy want with the Atros Fallis?”
“It could be a coincidence, but I’m now a true believer that when it comes to Claudius, there are no coincidences. Does Claudius mention anything else about the transaction for the book?” Clay asked, training his eyes on the journal clutched in Andie’s hand.
“Not really, just that he was concerned about the loyalty of a few of his men, and he needed to travel to Smithtown, Long Island, to speak with ‘fellow devoted men of the crown.’ The journal entries end after that. I guess he hid the Atros Fallis and his journal in the Hessian strongbox and left for Long Island. I do think you’re right, Claudius’s intent was never to sell the Atros Fallis, but to understand what it was.”
Clay was still for a moment, processing the intel in his head. Finally, he rose from the bed and opened a dresser drawer to retrieve a pair of boxer briefs, a black hooded sweatshirt, and a pair of matching sweatpants. He was amazed by Andie’s silence as he dressed, knowing she was probably eager to hear what he was thinking. He watched as she searched his face for any sign of a tell. “Okay, here’s what I think went down, beautiful. There’s not a chance in hell Claudius was going to leave without Katherine, especially now that we now know they shared a mutual desire for each other. For him to leave her behind on this side of the river and travel by himself to Long Island for just a meeting? Hell yeah, something or someone spooked him, and he knew it wasn’t going to turn out pretty—that’s why he left Katherine behind.”
Andie ran her fingers through her hair and knotted the long strands in a makeshift bun on top of her head. “Long Island during the American Revolution was almost completely Loyalist, and it was covered with British officers living well within the comforts of Tory households sympathetic to the crown and their cause.” She grabbed a pillow that was angled to fall from the bed at any moment and cradled it in her lap. “Claudius was captured at an inn in the middle of the night by agents of General Washington, and I always found that part of his history bizarre. How could several Patriots cross enemy lines in the middle of the night and casually enter a Loyalist inn? Then, how could they apprehend Claudius and bring him back to the prison in Goshen, New York, without a single British officer knowing? He was their main supplier of goods, information, and food. You just don’t give up your inside man like that, not without raising an eyebrow or two among your superiors within the British Army.”
“Yeah, you do ... for the right price, loyalties can change instantly.” Clay shook his head and reached for a pair of boots from the closet. “Claudius was double-crossed. He wasn’t hanged for being a horse and cattle thief, he was hanged for knowing way too much. Someo
ne wanted him dead and paid up for it—and I’ll bet my ass it had something to do with the Atros Fallis. Makes sense now why Abimal Young pleaded with Claudius on the gallows to tell him where it was hidden. This mystery just keeps growing, and who the hell was this holy man? That’s what’s buggin’ me.”
“Where are you going?” Andie asked as she leaned against the carved maple headboard.
“I’m going to do a perimeter check—something I should’ve been doing this whole time. Well, not the whole time.” Clay winked at Andie and placed a long kiss on her lips. “The sun is coming up, and I’ll feel better knowing we’re alone up here. I’m not counting on any unfriendlies, but it’s just the cynical soldier in me that makes me leave a hot woman in a warm bed. I’ll be back in a half hour. Just sit tight, and don’t leave the house. And don’t take that shirt off, either. That’s my job.”
# # #
As Clay passed the kitchen on his way to the hall closet to collect a wool hat, a jacket, and one of the many firearms he had planted around the house, he stopped to stare at the sheer majesty of the Atros Fallis, still sitting on the kitchen counter where he’d left it before stalking up the stairs to ravish Andie in the shower. The weathered copper gleamed slightly in the early morning light peeking through the curtained kitchen windows. Clay needed to understand why this strange book had this power over him and why and how he was connected to Claudius because of it. Nothing made a lick of sense to Clay anymore. Who were these two players seeking the book from Claudius? A holy man and a British spy. What the fuck did they know, and who else was involved in the conspiracy?
Clay grabbed the book, walked to the hall closet, and finished getting geared up. He walked out the front door, leaving Andie safely upstairs in his bed. He would do his perimeter check and then return to the warmth and sweet fulfillment of Andie’s arms. But first, he needed a moment alone to feel the awesome power of this remarkable book. His inner angel was definitely going to have to overcome his shameless, devilish side that took whatever it wanted. And now, knowing the addictive power of the Atros Fallis, he needed to have some self-control. It could make or break him, but Andie was all he wanted. The strength the book gave him was a tempting sin, and he prayed he would be able to walk away from it.
Chapter 33
The soft cotton sheets and comforter felt like heaven to Andie. She was finally feeling like her old self again—confident and strong. And knowing that Clay would always be with her left her feeling secure enough to let deep sleep overtake her in the silence of the tranquil room.
Her dreams shifted back and forth between reliving the pleasures of Clay’s loving touch and the stress of running from Tivoli. At some point, she thought she heard the thwacking sound of helicopter rotors, but she realized she was probably dreaming about last night’s events at the cabin, when the FBI extraction team had showed up too late to assist Clay.
She turned onto her stomach, still half asleep, and bunched the comforter down to the end of the bed with her legs. The morning sun was shining through the triangular windows that followed the contour of the A-frame roofline. The room was beginning to heat up, and the warmth lulled Andie back into a comfortable sleep. In and out of quick dreams, she finally decided to leave Clay’s heavenly bed and enter the shower. Before she could, she was pleasantly surprised by a warm kiss on the back of her right thigh. She buried her head in the depths of the pillow and giggled with delight. Warm hands moved up over the curve of her ass and gently stroked the cotton of her borrowed T-shirt. He then moved her long hair away from the natural scoop at the back of her neck and placed a warm, delicate kiss at her hairline.
“Mmm, Clay, I’ll have to remember to wear this T-shirt every night for you for the rest of our lives. Who knew the power this wife-beater had over you?”
“Who knew the power you would have over me, Andie? And you’ll pay for it with your fucking life, you hellcat bitch!” Tivoli’s refined British accent had been replaced by a slurred, enraged bellow that scared Andie almost to the point of a heart attack. Tivoli had found her—and in the seconds it took her to process that he’d been kissing her bare skin, she felt sharp pain as he grabbed her by her hair and lifted her out of the bed and onto her feet. He turned her around so she could stare with paralyzing fear into his crisp, ice-blue irises, his eyes filled with the unmistakable anger that she’d witnessed so many times before—right before he decimated an enemy.
She screamed something, but she couldn’t even recognize the words coming from her mouth. She trembled in pure fear. Where was Clay? Had Tivoli or his men killed him? Please, God, no. Her desperate heart ached with the unknown. “Please, Giovanni ... please! Where is Clay!?” she screamed between hysterical sobs.
“Ah, his name is Clay? Your mysterious hero? I couldn’t retrieve any information on him. He’ll die soon enough.” Still gripping her hair, Tivoli snapped Andie’s head back, exposing her bare neck, where he placed rough kisses at her jawline. He suddenly stopped and pushed her away. “I can smell him on you, you fucking whore! Trust me, Andie, I will make you mine, whether you agree to it or not.”
“Giovanni, then take me with you. Just leave Clay out of this. I’m the one who betrayed you, he has nothing to do with this mess.” She pleaded with him as she went to her knees on the floor of the master bedroom.
“No such luck, love. He involved himself when the both of you tried to steal my property. The Atros Fallis is mine, and for that matter, so are you! Get up and come with me!” he snarled, his clenched teeth accentuating his regal cheekbones.
Before Andie could back away, Tivoli was upon her and pulling her up by her arm. He pushed and pulled her out of the bedroom like she was a limp doll.
“Where is my property, Andie? Where is the Atros Fallis?” He almost threw her down the staircase in a fit of insanity, but he managed to grab her waist and hauled her down the rest of the way. At the bottom step, he kicked her hard in the ribs, and she tumbled to the floor.
She was sobbing, but her cries weren’t for herself or her pain. They were for Clay. Something had happened to him, she knew it. He should have been back already from his perimeter check. Her fears for his safety were all-consuming. Her life didn’t matter. She found herself drifting away in a fog of confusion and sorrow.
“I’ll ask you nicely once more, Andie, and if you don’t tell me, I will get nasty.” Tivoli bent down to Andie’s level and revealed a shiny hunting knife with a jagged blade. He pulled her hair again, forcing her to look at the deadly edge of his weapon as he taunted her with it. “How could you betray me, Andie? You were my world. You could’ve had anything your pretty heart desired. Instead, you threw it away for some plebian punk.”
“I don’t have it. I didn’t find the Atros Fallis,” she sputtered. “It was never recovered.” She prayed he wouldn’t see through her charade.
“Ha! See, Andie, I can’t believe that. In fact, I know you have it or at least know where it is. I tracked your movements through your GPS, and you are fully aware of the technology I have access to. I have a goddamned satellite image of your trek to the cave. Stop fucking lying to me!”
“No, not until you tell me what happened to Clay!” She winced as he pulled her hair tighter. “Where is he, you son of a bitch!? Tell me!”
She was screaming hysterically when suddenly Tivoli slapped her and brought her limp body up from her knees. He turned her to face him as his free arm wrapped tightly around her waist.
“Do you want me to tell you a little story, Andie?” he jeered. He traced the tip of the hunting knife down the slope of her nose, bringing it to rest at the top of her quivering upper lip. “Here’s a story about a talented young woman who thought she could change her ways and be noble for a lost cause. She was sent to retrieve information from an older, lonely college professor, but it seemed she couldn’t seal the deal for her much wiser and wealthier employer. Well, this employer invested many dollars and much more of his own time in creating a powerful, complicated woman who could seduce any
man into giving up all that they knew or owned just to kiss her sweet lips. Do you know this woman, Andie?”
“You’re an evil bastard, and I will not let you think for one moment you created the person that I am,” she insisted. She was regaining her composure, and the burn of resentment poured through her body, giving her new strength. But she suddenly went still as the sharpened point of the knife slipped between her lips, leaving her speechless with fear.
“Careful, my dear. I need these lips to feel perfect for me later.” He lifted the knife away from her lips, but still held it close to her face. “Now, let me continue. Yes, you were, and still are, my investment, Andie. And you came close to leaving me once before with that proud professor, Roger Gleason, but that ended badly for him, and for you, too.”
“Why are you bringing up Roger? The man killed himself because of my loyalties to you. He was a decent, gentle soul, and I crushed his heart with deceit. Let it go, Giovanni,” Andie whispered.
“Oh, you’d like me to let it go? Well, Andie, I’m not sure you realize the chances and risks I’ve taken for you over the past decade. I’ve even murdered for you, my darling.”
Andie squinted with confusion. “What in hell do you mean, ‘murdered’?”
Tivoli’s ice-blue eyes lit with excitement, and a dimple appeared in his unblemished face as he smiled. “This is remarkable. I’m actually thrilled to tell you my secret. You see, Roger didn’t kill himself; I killed him. He was going to forgive you and marry you anyway. He was fully aware that you were working for me and fucking him for information, but he didn’t care. He actually said he loved and forgave you. Imagine that. When I heard his ridiculous notion, I took matters into my own hands. He needed to be erased.” Tivoli paused for a moment and shrugged. “I had the pistol in my coat pocket with my finger on the trigger, just waiting for the perfect moment when I could take a shot that would make the angle of projection look like suicide. It didn’t have to be perfect, just close enough that my paid man at the medical examiner’s office could pass it off as a suicide without scrutiny.”
