Seducing the Accomplice

by Jennifer Morey

  George followed, Merrick and Owen next. The man on the swim deck said something to M, who climbed on to the main deck. The man waved the rest of them by with his gun.

  Sadie crowded Calan, looping her arm with his. One of the three already on the main deck approached. Sadie cringed when he came to a stop in front of her. His breath smelled like cigarettes and booze.

  “You. Come with me,” he said in English.

  Shards of fear sprayed her senses. She clutched Calan’s arm with her other hand and inched closer, pressed against him now, his arm like a pole.

  “She stays with me,” Calan said.

  The man raised his gun and pressed it to M’s forehead. “She comes now or he dies. We only need you two.”

  Sadie lifted her gaze to Calan and saw the consternation in the low set of his eyebrows. He met her eyes.

  “It’s okay,” he said to her.

  What? “I’m not going with him!”

  “It’s okay,” he repeated, and she realized what she’d thought was consternation was calculation instead.

  The man grabbed her by the arm and roughly tugged her. She reluctantly let go of Calan’s arm, keeping hold of his gaze with hers. In his eyes she saw his promise and she drew strength and courage from it.

  She looked at each and every one of his teammates and saw the same reassurance from them. These men were not afraid and their captors were underestimating them.

  But that didn’t mean things couldn’t go wrong.

  What would happen to her while she waited for them to act? What if they weren’t able to reach her in time?

  Her captor said something in Albanian to two others. When they fell into step behind him, she ascertained enough. She stumbled as the man hauled her toward the aft deck. She craned her neck to keep Calan in view. But he was busy talking to the other men holding them at gunpoint.

  The man gripping her arm forced her into the salon of the yacht. This vessel was bigger and much more elegant than the one Calan had chartered. A huge red leather sectional with bright-blue pillows was accented by shiny brass lamps and picture frames. The ceiling was domed and had rings of brass trim. Sadie half expected the man to bring her before the sheik who owned it. Except it wasn’t a sheik behind this. It was a mobster.

  At the first door in a hall along the starboard side, he shoved her inside. But instead of closing the door and leaving her there, he came in behind her, and to her horror, two more men followed.

  One of them was Zhafa.

  Chapter 10

  Watching Sadie being forced away almost made Calan do something he’d regret. Only M’s hand on his arm stopped him, that and Merrick muttering, “Wait for it.”

  There were five men left on deck. Two had gone with Sadie, and there were two more in the pilot house. He hadn’t seen Zhafa yet, but he was sure the man was on board. Dervishi would have sent him to finish his job.

  The time would come when they could make their move. He’d wait but not much longer. Sadie didn’t have time.

  One of the five pressed his gun to Calan’s head. “We go below. Now.” He looked at each of Calan’s teammates as if daring them with his fearless black eyes to try anything.

  Calan turned. The remaining Albanians kept their guns aimed on his teammates. He looked into the pilot house. As soon as they passed they’d be out of sight. He glanced at M and saw that he’d noticed. Owen had, too. Merrick’s gaze lifted to the pilot house and then he caught Owen’s look, which Reed saw. They were all ready.

  M and Calan were behind the others, M a little in front of him and to his left. An Albanian walked behind M to Calan’s left. Merrick had gained the lead and was flanked by two Albanians. Owen and Reed walked side by side, with an Albanian behind them and in front of Calan.

  About halfway to the aft deck, one of the leading Albanians poked Merrick with his gun and ordered him to stop. He then opened a door and gestured for Merrick to go inside. He did. Any second now the Albanians were in for a surprise. Feeling the gun still pressed to his head and the Albanian holding his shirt like a tether, Calan stayed in tune with the man’s position. He didn’t weigh what Calan weighed. In fact, all four of his teammates outweighed the Albanians.

  They were out of sight from the pilot house. No one else was on deck. Merrick began to move, his arms going for the nearest Albanian.

  Calan reached up and grabbed the barrel of the gun at his head and rammed his elbow into the man’s sternum. That gave him time to turn and crush the man’s throat with his hand. He fell before firing his gun, but another bullet shot harmlessly out to sea.

  Owen, Reed and Merrick were fighting two Albanians. M was just finishing his second kill with a knife he’d retrieved from somewhere—probably his boot—stabbing the man through the heart. The other Albanian lay on the deck, his arm bent unnaturally and a clean slice on his throat. M must have finished with the fallen Albanian before the second could swing his aim around.

  Owen knocked another man’s gun from his hands and Reed shot him. Merrick finished choking the last one, his body the fifth to thud on the deck floor, partially lying inside the entrance.

  “Owen, Reed, you take the pilot house,” Calan said. There was no point in trying to be quiet. The gunshots must have alerted everyone by now.

  Sadie backed up until her knees came against the bed. The cabin wasn’t big, with only enough room for the bed and built-in cabinets and a desk with an attached swivel chair. Zhafa approached with slow, sure steps. He was satisfied that she was finally captured. She was his insurance policy. If she didn’t tell him what he wanted to know, Calan would when he threatened him with her life.

  Or so he thought.

  The two other men who’d brought her to the cabin stood on both sides of the door. They were impeccably dressed, both in dark casual slacks and lighter-colored but plain, long-sleeved dress shirts.

  She searched the hall beyond them. Where was Calan?

  Zhafa came to a stop in front of her. Something told her not to let him see how frightened she was. She stuck her chin out and met his ugly brown eyes squarely. But when he reached with his hand and cupped her chin, holding her head there, she couldn’t breathe for a second. An eerie smile curved his pale, dry lips, creasing skin that was mottled with age and poor health.

  “Where is my money?” he asked in accented English. “I know that your boyfriend would not have taken it with him aboard his yacht.”

  If she told him, he’d kill her and if she didn’t, he’d hurt her until she did. Neither consequence was to her advantage, so she didn’t respond, glancing toward the door again.

  “He will not come for you,” Zhafa said.

  “I don’t know where it is.” It was pretty much the truth. It was at the Bari marina on a boat, but she didn’t know which one.

  Moving his hand from her chin to the back of her head, he took a handful of her hair and pulled, bending down so that his face was inches above hers. “I will kill each and every one of those men until you tell me what I need to know, and when only Calan is left, I will make him watch me slowly kill you. You can save them all if you tell me where my money is.”

  She spat at his face. “Liar.”

  Letting go of her hair, he straightened, wiping his face with the sleeve of his dress shirt. With his right hand, he slapped her. The force of it jolted her head and sent her falling. She landed on her hands and knees.

  “Nail her to the headboard,” Zhafa demanded.

  Sadie crawled away. No one had checked her for weapons. Now she reached under her shirt and took out the pistol, rolling onto her rear and aiming it up at Zhafa.

  The two men who’d left their stations at the door to come toward her stopped short.

  “Nail yourself to the headboard,” she retorted.

  The sound of gunfire made them all look toward the door. But Sadie didn’t keep her attention off Zhafa long. He faced her again and she saw his uncertainty. Who had fired the weapons and who would be left standing? She also saw him contemplatin
g whether to make a move on her, overpower her and take control of her gun.

  A moment later, Calan appeared through the doorway, followed by M and Merrick, who each targeted the two Albanians while Calan moved farther into the room, seeing Sadie on the floor and taking a few seconds to absorb the fact that she’d somehow obtained the upper hand.

  “Drop your weapons,” M said.

  The two other men looked at Zhafa, who nodded once. He didn’t want to be shot, and he must know Calan would shoot him. The men dropped their weapons.

  Calan moved closer to Zhafa and searched him for a weapon. He found none and stepped back.

  Zhafa’s deadly gaze stayed on Calan. “Who do you think you are?”

  “Sadie.” Calan extended his hand, the one not holding a gun.

  She took it and he helped her to her feet. His eyes went down to the gun and back up to her face, where he carefully perused her. Lifting his hand, he touched where Zhafa had slapped her and then his eyes met hers. Emotion that had driven him to find and kill Dharr surfaced.

  Turning, Calan moved close to Zhafa. He trailed the barrel of his pistol down the man’s face and then pushed it into the soft flesh under his chin. “I should kill you for that.”

  “Why do you not?”

  “I want you to deliver a message for me.”

  Zhafa grunted derisively. “A message for whom?”

  “Alek Dervishi.”

  At the mention of the mob leader’s name, Zhafa considered Calan. “Do you think he will care what you have to say?”

  “He should.”

  Zhafa chuckled. “What is this message?”

  “Ask him why he thinks I let you live.”

  “That is all? That is your message?” Zhafa chuckled. “You might as well kill me.”

  “Just tell him.”

  “Do you think you can negotiate with a man like him? Make him see reason? A man like Alek makes his own reasons. He will not listen to the reasoning of others.” Zhafa paused. “Perhaps you do not know him as well as you think.”

  “Perhaps he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks.”

  Again, Zhafa considered him. “You are an arrogant man.”

  Sadie almost agreed. How did he think he could take on a man like that? She glanced at each of his teammates. None appeared worried about what lay ahead. They must have some kind of plan. One that had to work. Because if it didn’t, these people would never stop coming after them. Or him, anyway. She wasn’t so sure that once she was away from him she’d be in any more danger. His past experience had more to do with his motives for keeping her with him.

  “Let’s go,” Calan said.

  M planted his hand on the back of one of the men below his neck. “Move.”

  Merrick forced the man under his control out the door behind him and Calan followed with Zhafa ahead of him, glancing back at her to make sure she was behind him. On the main deck, Owen and George finished rolling the last of the bodies overboard. Sadie had to turn her head away from the gory sight.

  She watched Calan and the others force Zhafa and his men into the lifeboat and untie it from the yacht. They drifted apart.

  George and Merrick went into the pilot house and got on the radio, and Sadie didn’t have to guess they were reporting missing men.

  Stepping out of the dinghy after leaving the yacht anchored offshore, Sadie followed Calan onto the beach, unable to stop staring at the villa ahead. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was beautiful in a charming, picturesque way. It looked newly constructed and all the landscaping was young and bursting with color and texture. Flowering vines climbed the white stone exterior, accented by black window trim and a cut-up red tile roof. There was a turret in the center with half-circle, tiered balconies on the second and third floors and a concrete patio that matched the shape, extending out into green paradise that opened to sand.

  Yet again, she was struck with the contrast between the beauty surrounding her and their dangerous situation. If she wasn’t so busy running for her life, this would be an ideal accommodation for some R & R. With Calan…

  Her mind finished the thought. And then her mood fell lower than it already was. Last night was magical and she didn’t want it to be magical. Magical meant she liked him and the way he made her feel far too much. It also gave her false expectations. But knowing that didn’t stop her from thinking about him, how perfect they were together, how perfect last night had been. She wanted more. She didn’t want it to end. But it would.

  Searching the coast, trudging her way toward the villa, Sadie wished there was a way to get back to Tirana without Calan. They weren’t far from Durres. If she could find a car…

  Calan’s hand on her lower back gave her a jolt. She looked up and over at him and saw his assessing eyes. He knew what she was thinking, but did he know it was him she wanted to escape? The threat of Dervishi was beginning to matter less and less.

  Around the side of the villa, she followed M and Merrick along a tree-shaded stone path to the front. Calan and the others were behind her. A car passed on a badly maintained road and another was parked in the rock driveway of a villa across from this one. She couldn’t see the villa to the south and the one to the north looked vacant. There were no garages and she saw no car parked there.

  Merrick opened the door. He’d gone to the office of this rental complex to check in before the rest of them had left the yacht. Sadie walked inside, feeling trapped in a paradise that wasn’t paradise at all. The villa, once again, was fantastic. Less modern than the one where she and Calan stayed in Montenegro but bigger.

  She stopped and watched the five men move about, and Calan took both their bags to a room up an open stairway. It was a loft. Merrick and M disappeared down the only visible hall, and Owen and George tossed their things in the middle of the living room floor. Owen rummaged through the bag she’d seen him with before.

  Sadie looked up at the wood railing outlining the loft and two things struck her. A, she didn’t have to worry about things getting out of hand with Calan tonight, and B, it was going to be next to impossible to sneak her way out of here.

  She had to think of something.

  Calan reappeared at the top of the stairs and took them three at a time. His eyes met hers and stayed, assessing and exuding frustration. He joined George and Owen at the dining room table. Was he put off because he knew she didn’t want to be here anymore? Was he taking it more personally than she thought?

  She moved to the back of the couch, putting her hand there. M and Merrick passed her and went to the table where the others stood. Owen had spread out some papers on the table and was talking low to Calan, George listening. The three made room for M and Merrick.

  Folding her arms, she leaned her hip against the couch and let out a heavy breath. Was she witnessing the team in action here? Were they talking low because they didn’t want her to hear? Trying to be nonchalant while they discussed what lay ahead?

  Arms down at her sides again, she went to the table and shimmied her way between M and Merrick, ignoring their looks along with the abrupt and lingering silence that followed. She was too transfixed by the images on the table. They were high-resolution satellite images. She bent down for a closer look. It was a huge mansion with all kinds of outbuildings. Each image appeared the same, but color and clarity varied. Some had clouds, and others didn’t.

  “What are the dates of these?” she asked.

  When no one answered, she straightened and looked from one man to the next until she ended with Calan. She raised one of her eyebrows at him and cocked her head, hoping this was a good rendition of you-better-tell-me-now-or-else.

  “Dervishi’s compound,” he said.

  And she had to smile. “That’s not what I asked.”

  “Yeah, but you would have.”

  “These look like they were taken at really different times.”

  She looked from each of the five men when, again, no one responded right away, pausing on M, who had a shrewd glimmer to his eyes.
He seemed to like the fact that she’d noticed such a thing.

  “They were,” Calan said. “We got all the images we could find so we could study any changes.”

  “And find a way in,” M said. “Or more appropriately, a way out.”

  She turned to M. “What are you going to do? Crash through his security gates?”

  “No,” M replied calmly. “We’re going to be allowed access through those gates, and then we’re going to negotiate with Dervishi.”

  Sadie looked incredulously at Calan. No wonder they were looking for escape routes.

  “Cullen got us something on Dervishi that gives us plenty of leverage,” he said.

  “When did he do that?”

  “While we sailed here. He has a really good hacker.”

  She looked pointedly at each and every one of them. “What did he find?”

  Owen glanced at Merrick, who glanced at M, who turned unchanging eyes to Calan.

  Sadie folded her arms again and looked at Calan.

  He sighed and shifted weight from one foot to the other with a jerky movement that conveyed his frustration. “We have email transfers between several of his men, including Zhafa, that reveal traceable connections to Dharr and his organization, which is about to undergo some changes since his death. Dervishi’s involvement won’t look good to the rest of the world. He won’t want to attract that kind of attention.”

  All she could do was stare at him. “Wow,” she finally said. “I didn’t even notice when all that happened.”

  “M took the call,” he said.

  She looked at M, who rewarded her with his usual and customary desensitized gaze.

  “And if you’re wrong?”

  “That’s what this is for,” Calan indicated the images. “Contingency.”

  In case they needed to escape. In case something went wrong. Which, Sadie was almost a hundred percent sure, something would. What if Dervishi wasn’t threatened by the emails? It might not be enough to worry him.

  “Where will I be when you go to meet him?”