“He’s also our friend,” Carmen offered.
The doctor turned toward her and shook his head. “Well, he won’t be anymore if you don’t let him recover in peace. He needs every last ounce of strength to beat the illness. So please, leave and let him rest.”
Riley gazed at that enormous head, looking through those two thick, round pieces of glass to the human eyes behind them. Even in the shadows of the tent, he saw sincere concern.
“You’re right,” the captain of the Pingarrón said. “We’ll go now.”
The doctor’s insect head nodded without a word.
Carmen touched Jack’s hair again. “Be good, okay?” She gave him a mischievous wink. “We’ll find Elsa and tell her you’re waiting for her.”
“I’ll give her a kiss for you,” Riley added.
“Over my dead body,” Jack countered, then realizing what he’d just said, he let out a burbling burst of laughter that made him cough once again.
“Get out of here!” the doctor barked, pointing imperiously at the exit. “Both of you!”
The couple retreated down the narrow aisle, and a moment later they were again beneath the brilliant light of day.
They looked at one another. In front of the tent where their friend lay, and surrounded by the city of living dead, they hugged like never before—not just showing each other their love without words but also grasping each other with the desperation the shipwrecked feel when they see a shark fin.
Then to Riley’s surprise, Carmen pulled away from him and turned to stifle a deep cough.
Riley was completely quiet and wholly afraid.
Carmen looked at him with supernatural calm. “It’s nothing,” she whispered.
Then she coughed again and had to take the mask off her mouth. A drop of blood fell from her lower lip.
1
December 24, 1941
Hotel Harrington
Washington, DC
Alex Riley opened his eyes with a start.
His heart beat wildly, and he was covered in sweat. An anguished groan tried to leave his throat.
After a few seconds, he realized it had all been a dream and his heart rate finally started to fall.
He blinked a few times, trying in vain to focus his vision.
He shut his eyelids tightly for a couple of seconds, but the result was the same. All he saw was a diffuse yellow rectangle against a dark background.
Then the gears in his head started turning like a clock reluctant to start, and he started to process information.
His sense of balance told him he was lying down and what he saw in front of him was really above him. It was nothing more than the light from the street reflecting on the ceiling in the room. His sense of touch told him the soft surface he was on was probably a fluffy mattress. And his sense of hearing caught the muffled purrs of several cars’ engines. His mouth, dry, still held the taste of the last glass of whiskey from the night before, and as he inhaled deeply to shake off the last mist of sleep, the subtle smell of jasmine struck his nostrils and a feeling he could define only as pure happiness caused him to move his lips in the shape of a smile.
He turned to his right and found the source of that subtle perfume. She had her back to him, her head on a pillow. The white sheets emphasized the tan skin of her neck and shoulders over which a cascade of black hair flowed.
Unable to resist the urge, he stretched a hand out to graze the base of her neck and slid his fingertips along her silky skin slowly enough to memorize every perfect imperfection of that body that seemed molded by God or the devil with the sole purpose of being desired.
Driven by inescapable arousal, Riley moved his body toward hers until, beneath the sheets, he rested against her buttocks, and, with his hand on her hip, he gently pulled her toward him.
Her breathing deepened, and a slight shudder ran down her naked body.
Carmen Debagh turned languidly as if still asleep, and it took her a few moments to open her eyes. Dark and incredibly intense, her gaze was one most men would give their lives to attract.
Carmen lifted a hand and ran her fingers through Riley’s messy hair. Then she caressed his cheek, rough with a few days’ beard, and touched the scar that served as a reminder of what had brought them together some years ago in a Spanish tavern.
“That nightmare again?” she asked quietly, putting her hand on his sweaty forehead.
Riley nodded in the darkness. “Again.”
“It’s just a dream,” she murmured gently. “It’s not real. It hasn’t happened and it won’t happen.”
It took Alex a moment to respond. “I don’t know.”
“I do. Forget it.”
“I wish I could.”
Carmen sat up halfway, resting her elbow on the pillow. “I’m not going to die,” she argued impatiently. “Neither are you or Jack or Julie or César—not even Marco. That damn virus sunk with the Deimos. End of story.”
“And if they try to do it again?” he argued, looking right at her. “And if they finally succeed?”
Carmen frowned. “Would you mind telling me what’s the matter with you?”
Riley tiredly ran a hand over his face and exhaled deeply. “I don’t know. It’s something . . . I don’t know how to explain it. Like a premonition that something terrible is about to happen.”
“It’s because of the nightmare, Alex.”
“No, it’s not that.” He shook his head. “I think this nightmare is . . .” He needed a moment to find the words. “More than that.”
“More than that?”
“It sounds crazy, but I think it’s more than just a dream. It’s too real like—like a memory. Like it actually happened.”
“But it didn’t.”
“Not yet.”
Carmen looked at him quietly, sitting up until her back was leaning against the headboard. “What are you really worried about, Alex?”
“What am I really worried about?” He tutted. “I don’t know, maybe the war my country just entered, that the enemy has a virus strong enough to annihilate us all, that the woman I asked to marry me,” he added bleakly, “still hasn’t given me an answer.”
Carmen sighed wearily. “I already told you I need to think about it.”
“You told me that over two weeks ago.”
“It’s not an easy decision,” she objected. “I don’t want to rush into it.”
“Rush into it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not that hard. Yes or no. Black or white. You love me or you don’t. It’s that simple.”
“It’s more than that, and you know it. It’s a promise I don’t want to take lightly.”
“It’s just a formality, Carmen,” he insisted with his sharp reasoning. “Formalize what we have so we can be together without bureaucratic issues.”
“Forever,” she reminded him.
“If that’s what you’re worried about then remember this country has divorce.”
“That may be so,” she admitted with an icy stare. “But I’m not going to get married planning to divorce. You may not believe it”—she raised her eyebrows—“but I’m a very traditional woman, and I think divorce is a terrible sin.”
Riley was so unsettled by her declaration that his jaw dropped.
Before he was able to say anything, Carmen smiled jokingly. “You bought it!” She laughed, pointing at him. “I can’t believe it.”
“Fuck, Carmen. I’m being serious, God.”
“And me too,” she replied immediately. “I don’t get why you’re in such a rush. I’ll take the time I need to think about it. Not one day less.”
“Maybe we don’t have that much time,” Riley objected.
“What do you mean by that?”
Riley hesitated. “Look what’s happened in less than two months, Carmen,” he said, scrutinizing her black eyes. “Our lives changed completely, not to mention that we barely survived. Who’s to say that something like that won’t happen again? Our lives could take another unexpected turn.
”
Carmen frowned in confusion. “Since when do you worry about the future, Captain Alexander ‘Carpe Diem’ Riley?”
“It’s not that.” He shook his head. “It’s just that . . .”
“What?” she snapped.
He took her by the shoulders, with an anguished look she’d never seen before. “I don’t want to lose you, Carmen,” he said, his voice shaking. “When I was about to freeze to death in the water, I saw your face. The desire to see you again kept me alive.”
She looked down and covered her face with her right hand, trying to hide her emotions.
“I love you, Carmen,” he concluded, almost sobbing. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Without saying anything, Carmen hugged Riley as hard as she could, offering him the consolation that no encouraging word could.
They were like that for almost a minute, silent, two lovers on the last night of their lives.
Finally, it was Carmen who pulled back and kissed Riley on his forehead and patted him on the back. “Nice try,” she praised him with a nod.
Riley looked up, realizing she was gazing at him with amusement.
“Almost worked, huh?” Riley asked, letting go of his contrition and smiling guiltily.
“Not even close,” she said proudly. “I know you too well. You’re not that good of an actor.”
“I can do better.”
Carmen shrugged. “Maybe, but you’re not going to convince me like that.”
“I have other ways,” Riley claimed. “Very persuasive ways.”
Carmen raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“Allow me to show you,” he said, getting on top of Carmen while she looked at him curiously, “future Mrs. Riley.”
“That remains to be seen. And I’m warning you, I will under no circumstances change my name.”
Riley reached out and grabbed one of Carmen’s silk scarves from the nearby dresser.
“Put your hands together over your head,” he ordered.
She obeyed. Riley wrapped it around her wrists several times and then tied them to the bed’s iron headboard.
“What are you going to do to me?” Carmen asked, her voice hoarse with arousal.
Riley secured the knot and his hands moved down her breasts, along her brown skin.
“I’m going to lay out,” Riley whispered, smiling, “my best arguments.”
Then he ran his tongue along her stomach, stopping just long enough for some kisses.
As he went lower, she involuntarily raised her hips, arching her back, letting desire take hold of her.
Above the flowing curves of her body he met her gaze.
“And by the way,” Riley added, smiling, “Merry Christmas Eve.”
2
Two hours later Carmen Debagh and Alex Riley drove along Pennsylvania Avenue in the backseat of a taxi. She wore a discreet olive vest that seemed designed, unsuccessfully, to hide her incredible figure, while Riley chafed in his gray wool suit. He’d never missed his beat-up leather jacket and old boots more.
The snow from the last two days had started to melt under the fierce December sun, leaving behind a layer of frosty mud on the black asphalt. Christmas lights dangled from the lampposts on either side of the wide avenue, which, despite its several lanes, sported dense, sprawling traffic at that hour of the morning.
American flags were hung on poles, in trees, and in the windows of every building. The United States’ declaration of war against Japan in retaliation for the unexpected attack on Pearl Harbor, still not three weeks ago, had stirred up the patriotic instincts and righteous vengeance of a citizenry that had thought themselves safe from the brutality ravaging Europe.
In front of them, at the end of the avenue, the white facade of the enormous Capitol building seemed to shine with light from within, its superb neoclassical dome towering above the buildings around it.
“It’s really big,” Carmen said with admiration, peering at it through the windshield. “And what’s that statue on top? It looks like an Indian with feathers on his head.”
“It’s a statue that represents liberty,” Alex said, smiling. “It’s not feathers on his head but a helmet with an eagle. Did you know the building was designed to mimic the Pantheon? And something not a lot of people know is that inside, just under the dome, is a huge painting called The Apotheosis of Washington. It depicts the first president turning into a god.”
“You’re joking.”
“It’s true. And there was a statue of George Washington as Zeus too. But they removed it because some people thought the bare chest was indecent.”
Carmen looked at Riley’s profile with a puzzled expression. “You Americans are quite strange.”
Far from offended, Alex smiled calmly. “This coming from a woman who says she’s the daughter of a Tuareg and an Indian princess, who lives in a Muslim city full of Hindu gods but claims to be Buddhist.”
“Touché,” she said with a nod, adding, “On another subject, do you still want me to go to the meeting with the Office of Naval Intelligence people? I don’t know if it would be so useful for you.”
“I think it would be. You’re the smartest person I know, and I could use your opinion about what goes on in there.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You still think they’re gonna give us a mission? Just two weeks after we arrived and before you’ve even recovered from all your injuries?”
“The bullet wound’s still healing,” he answered, patting his shoulder. “And my ribs bother me less and less every day. Fortunately, none broke.”
“Still, we saved millions of Americans from a horrible death. I think we deserve a longer vacation.”
The taxi driver snuck a look in the rearview mirror, intrigued by the conversation between his two passengers.
Riley noticed and put a hand on Carmen’s knee, pressing just hard enough so she’d get the hint. What had happened weeks before was classified as top secret, and it definitely wasn’t a good idea to talk about it in a taxi.
“There are no vacations in war,” he explained wryly. “The Nazis are going on to the gates of Moscow, and the Japanese have just landed in the Philippines. If they’re calling us in this urgently, it has to be for a reason, and I don’t think it’s to wish us a ‘Merry Christmas.’ Either way, we’ll know it in a couple of hours.”
An uneasy atmosphere surrounded them in the backseat of the cab, and neither said anything until they passed the Capitol and headed south down Eighth Street.
“Is Jack coming to the meeting too?” Carmen asked, looking back through the window at an endless line of men in front of a recruitment office bearing the huge, emotional banner with the words, “Remember Pearl Harbor.”
Riley nodded. “Jack, you, and me. Just us three.”
“And how is he? It’s been almost a week since I’ve seen him. Still hung up on Elsa?”
“You can ask him yourself,” he offered. “We’re gonna stop and say hi. He’s working right now.”
“Working? On what?”
“You’ll see.”
Carmen frowned. “You’re insufferable with these mysterious plans.”
Alex smiled. “Perhaps.”
Just five minutes later, the taxi stopped in front of a double iron gate flanked by two large boat anchors and guarded by a handful of men in navy uniforms. Past the gate were big brick buildings with smoking chimneys and a dozen cranes stretching over the rooftops.
On one side of the entrance, an iron plaque on a block of stone read: “Washington Navy Yard.”
“What’s this?” Carmen asked as they got out of the taxi.
“It’s the naval yard here in Washington.”
“Yes, I already read that,” she replied. “I’m asking what we’re doing here.”
“I already told you we’re here to see Jack.”
“In a naval shipyard? This is where he’s working?” she asked. “What’d I miss?”
“You’ll see,” he said, approaching the o
fficer on guard duty in a little booth and giving him his Office of Naval Intelligence ID.
The guard carefully studied the card and compared the photo with Riley’s face.
When he was satisfied, he gave it back and concentrated his attention on Carmen.
“And you, miss?” he asked, looking her over like he’d seen her at a bar.
Carmen took a step forward, opened her bag, and took out her own ONI ID.
Though he tried to hide it, the officer was surprised that such a spectacular woman calmly showed accreditation reserved for few members of the intelligence service.
“Go ahead,” he coughed, giving back the card and gesturing for the sailor to open the gate.
Riley entered the complex, followed closely by Carmen, who tried to avoid the puddles of melted snow and parts of beams, cables, and rivets scattered on the ground. “I shouldn’t have worn heels,” she murmured, rolling up her skirt to move more freely.
“Sorry I didn’t warn you,” Riley said. “But look on the bright side.”
“What bright side?”
“You’re making their morning.”
“Who?” She looked up and realized that dozens of workers and sailors had stopped what they were doing to watch her.
The men whistled and catcalled—even a small round of applause broke out.
“Okay, guys,” Riley said loudly, raising a hand.
Carmen tutted. “Seems like they’ve never seen a woman before.”
“One like you? Perhaps not.”
Carmen sighed. “Do you know where you’re going? You can’t take me around the whole base in these shoes.”
“It’s this building here.” He pointed at a scruffy three-story brick building with a pitched roof and large windows. They walked up to a rusty side door, and Riley rang the bell.
A peephole opened and a man’s face appeared. “Identification.”
“Isn’t it a little excessive, all this security?” Carmen said, showing her card again. “What do they have inside? The Ark of the Covenant?”
Riley gave a slight smile but said nothing, just stepped to the side when the door opened.
Darkness: Captain Riley II (The Captain Riley Adventures Book 2) Page 2
