“Have you made contact with them, then?” Evelyn found it difficult to shape the question. She swallowed past a tight knot in her throat.
“Not exactly. We've been watching the place they held you and managed to track a few of them to another location. A few hours ago, we saw them move three women from a van into a building and we're assuming, considering the circumstances, that they're your friends,” Dragar said.
Evelyn felt like someone had kicked her in the chest. “All three? Did you—I mean, I hope you're going to tell me next that you went in and got them out.”
“Not yet, Miss--”
“Why not? Why would you wait when you know what they did to me?” she asked, incredulous. She'd been hoping against hope that her sisters had been able to stay on the run.
“We went in blind the first time after you,” Dragar said, not unkindly. “It could have cost Agent Nichols his life. We can't do that again. It's better to find out all we can about the location, about the entrances and exits and how best to go in and extract them. It'll happen within the next twenty-four hours though. We thought you should know.”
Caught between concern and misplaced guilt that Rhett had risked his life for her, she looked between their eyes. Part of her was relieved that they were making plans to get the girls out, and the other part of her wanted them out now.
“I understand the risks, but believe me, the risks to their lives are far greater. Are we going back to Greece?” she asked.
“I think it's best if you stay here, Miss Grant. We still don't know how broad their network is or what they even want with you and your friends. With any luck, we'll be able to take these people into custody and question them,” Dracht said, taking over for Dragar. “We're planning to go in sometime in the middle of the night.”
“But every hour you wait is another hour they're being tortured,” she argued, upset at the thought of her sisters enduring that kind of pain.
“We don't know what's going on in there—”
“Well I do. They won't waste any time trying to get them to talk.” She realized belatedly that she might have chosen the wrong words; all four men were staring at her like they wondered what she wasn't saying.
“About the same thing they tried to get you to talk about, Miss Grant?” Christian asked.
“I can't be sure, but it makes sense.” Evelyn felt like the whole thing was perilously close to unraveling around her. “They obviously think we know something we don't, or know someone that we don't.” The collective, contemplative silence of the four men all but unnerved her.
Finally, Dragar said, “We'll go in as soon as possible. As soon as it's safe for us and we know we're not putting your friends in more danger. Is there anything else you can tell us that might help? Think hard, Miss Grant. Every little detail is important.”
Oh, there were many things she hadn't told them. Many things she could tell them that would shed a whole new light on the situation. Licking her lips, she debated confessing. Never had she felt such an overwhelming urge to confide as she did with Rhett and these agents. The same old reasons why she could not kept her secrets safe.
“I've wracked my brain and I can't think of anything I haven't already told agent Nichols. If I think of something though, you can be sure I'll let him or Christian know.”
“Please do, Miss Grant,” Dracht said.
Dragar and Dracht stood up almost on cue, as if there was some hidden signal they reacted to.
“Will you let me know as soon as you have them out?” she asked, standing when they did.
“Absolutely. Don't worry, they'll be all right,” Dracht reassured her. With a cordial smile, he walked ahead of Dragar to the door. “We'll be in touch.”
“Thank you.” Caught between dismay and hope, Evelyn bid them goodbye.
“I'm going down to scout the lobby and around the perimeter of the building,” Christian said, following both of the other men out.
Evelyn watched them go, sending up a fervent prayer the agents wouldn't be too late.
Rhett bolted the door in their wake and came back to lean against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. It seemed to be a favorite pose.
“Want help with your luggage?” he asked.
She understood he was attempting to distract her and nodded her gratitude.
“Yes, thank you. Then, I think, I'm going to try and get a little rest.” She didn't think for a minute sleep was in the cards. She just wanted an excuse to stay secluded after going through Galiana's things.
Without another word, Rhett took the suitcases into the room she'd claimed as her own. He did so with the familiar ease he did everything else, and paused next to her on his way out after leaving them by the bed. “Don't worry. Dragar and Dracht are good at what they do. They'll get your friends out before another one dies.”
Unzipping Galiana's suitcase metaphorically translated to unzipping the emotions she'd held at bay since the murder. When the flap flipped back and the sweet smell of Galiana's things hit her nose, Evelyn's restraint and composure fled. All the grief rushed to the surface. Silent tears tracked down her cheeks while she touched the make up bag, the ruffle on a shirt, the outline of a stylish shoe.
Twenty-eight years had passed since they'd lost one of their own. Blindsided and ambushed by the pain, by the hole it left in her soul, Evelyn tried to come to terms with it. The initial shock had been absorbed by the need to get away from the Templars; now there was nowhere left to hide from the uncomfortable certainty of death.
Sweet, compassionate Galiana, lover of fashion, fragile butterfly, fierce protector of the innocent. Sister, daughter, loyal best friend. The girl with a heart of gold who devoted so much time to those of the less fortunate persuasion. She had taken her oath to spread good through the world as seriously as the rest of them. For Galiana, it was less like duty and more a natural inclination to help others.
She didn't realize she was sobbing until she felt a pair of strong arms lace her up from behind. Rhett's distinctive scent and size would have given him away if she hadn't known they were alone. Seeking refuge in a stranger's arms was not typically her way, but she found that today, after all this, she didn't care. Half turning, she rested her temple against his chest and let him absorb some of her sorrow.
Galiana was gone.
Minna, Genevieve and Alexandra, all that she had left in the world from the beginning in the Garden, were at the mercy of the Templars. One or more might very well be dead already. Evelyn wasn't ready to face life alone without her sisters. The thought of never seeing any of them again cut her to her core. Every one of her other siblings were long dead, brothers and sisters alike.
“Shh. It'll be all right,” Rhett said in a soothing murmur.
“Will it? She's gone. She's dead and I never even got to say goodbye.” Her words broke over breathless sobs.
“We'll make sure we hold the body so you and your friends can give her a proper funeral, hm? Then you can say goodbye.”
The stroke of his hand on her hair calmed some of her inner turmoil. Outside the balcony window, the noisy street below clashed with the private moment they had, a constant reminder of the danger they were in. Under her cheek and her palms, Rhett was solid and strong. Sure of himself. The sheer confidence he radiated along with his looming presence helped curb the harsh emotion rioting around inside.
He crooked a knuckle under her chin and lifted her face to his.
In the jaundiced glow of the street light filtering in the glass pane, Evelyn locked gazes with him. She instinctively knew it wasn't just her that felt the pull between them. She read the seriousness of it in his gaze, felt the tug of attraction from him as surely as he must have felt it from her.
The pad of his thumb cruised along the top of her cheekbones, smearing the tracks of the tears away. A sweet motion that Evelyn found as irresistible as the spark of heat in his eyes. They hovered on the brink of an action that would change how they interacted together, change everything period. If t
hey gave in to the temptation, they would no longer be Agent Nichols and Miss Grant.
He searched her eyes for answers she didn't have to give him. Evelyn's grief subsided by slow degrees and she felt her chin tremble with suppressed emotion. Leaning on Rhett, literally and figuratively, felt right.
Without warning, Rhett lowered his mouth and claimed hers. A gentle brush turned into a hot slide of tongue that sought entrance. Entrance that she gave him. He tasted like exotic spices and heat. A small groan betrayed her, a sound he drew in and absorbed while cupping the back of her head to keep her close. That he could be so tender after all the things she'd seen him do only exacerbated the desire pooling low in her belly. They might never have had harsh words earlier, never had an ounce of tension between them as gentle as he handled her.
Changing the angle, he came in again at another slant, drawing her into a thorough exploration that left her clinging to him; he felt like marble under her pressing palms, never swaying or losing balance when she came flush against him. As if nothing could ever shake the foundation he stood on. A low growl shook his chest and she responded by arching into him, gasping against his lips when his grip tightened in her hair.
The opening of the door to the suite startled them both. Her more than him. She stepped away with her fingers touching the damp curve of her lips, eyes locked on his. In that split second before he pivoted on a boot heel, Evelyn understood that she'd rocked him as much as he'd rocked her. He wore his desire openly and there was more than lust lurking in his gaze. Something deeper.
Maybe she was just losing her mind.
“Rhett?” Christian asked.
“In here,” Rhett said, leaving her room with long strides.
Evelyn used the time to get herself together. Turning back to Galiana's suitcase, a fresh pang surged through her. In the other room, she heard Christian and Rhett speaking in low voices but she couldn't make out what they were saying. If they weren't careful, Rhett's partner and boss were going to find out things were becoming more complicated than they imagined.
She found Galiana's stash of cash and pushed the fold into the pocket of her jeans. There was an extra credit card she hadn't had on her at the time of her death that Evelyn also kept. All the girls knew the passwords to each others accounts for safety reasons, and if she couldn't get into her own account, she might be able to access Galiana's if she needed to.
Every time she thought about her sister, her stomach rolled into knots.
Hearing the door open and close again out in the main room, Evelyn's curiosity drew her to the archway. Rhett stood there with his hands on his hips, staring at her as if he'd been about to walk in.
“We need to talk,” he said, and gestured to one of the couches.
Safer out here than in the bedroom, she thought. Evelyn nodded and crossed the room to sit on the edge of the cushion. Her mouth still felt bruised and raw from his kisses.
“What's going on?”
“Christian's suspicious of a trio of men he spotted while he was making his rounds,” Rhett said, getting right to the point. All the warm desire she'd seen on his face had vanished in favor of sharp concern. “He wants us to stay alert up here, ready to move at a moment's notice. I'd advise you to rest while you can though. The situation's too fluid not to take advantage of every second we can to refuel.”
Despite his concern, Rhett exuded a sense of calm that, in any other circumstance, would have soothed any and all her fears. The recent torture though, the attack by the boat, kept her from getting too comfortable. Alarm shot through her at the thought that the Templars were closing in.
“What do you mean, suspicious of a trio of men? They can't already be here, can they? How will he know for sure?” The questions spilled out before she could stop them.
He must have heard her angst because he came over to place a hand on her shoulder. Rhett was so tall that she had to crane a look way up to see his face.
“It's his job to know what to look for, hm? Let him work. Right this second it's just a feeling, so we're still okay. Once my boss and Dracht and their team get your friends out of there, they'll be coming back here. Extra eyes, extra ears.” Rhett stared down at her and squeezed her shoulder lightly.
“Will they be bringing my s—friends?” That was the second time she almost slipped and said the wrong thing.
Rhett arched a brow. “Probably not. It's not a good idea to make one big target out of all of you, Miss Grant.”
So they were back to Miss Grant and Agent Nichols. Evelyn's lips thinned, though she knew that it was best to keep a professional distance with his partner coming in and out all the time. That knowledge eased the rankle at the formality he fell back on.
“I'd like to be able to at least talk to them when I can.” Evelyn fretted over Dragar and Dracht questioning her sisters only to get a different story than she'd given Rhett. Not good. Not good at all.
“I don't see a problem with that. We'll know more as the night goes on. Get some rest.” He stepped away toward the small kitchenette.
Evelyn watched him go, remembering all too well what his mouth had felt like on hers. She wondered if he was thinking of her that way, too, or if he'd already put her from his mind.
The look he speared back through the room when he opened the small fridge for a bottle of water assured her that no, Rhett had not put her from his mind at all.
Even in the middle of the night, she could hear noises from the market street below. People talking, people laughing, the random shuffle of shoes on asphalt. She wondered if the city ever slept. She also wondered if any of those bodies winding through the market were Templars. If they were, why were they waiting so long to strike?
On her back on the bed, fully clothed with her shoes on, Evelyn stared up at the dark ceiling. Her thoughts swirled around the safety of her sisters, the kiss with Rhett, and future plans that she couldn't quite grasp. She didn't know what direction to go in anymore, wasn't sure how to function without Rhett and Christian's help. She and her sisters needed them until they could slip back into the obscurity they preferred. Would Rhett be satisfied with that when it was all over? --would she?
The answers that came immediately to mind unsettled her. Rhett wouldn't just walk away from this and neither would the US government. They were involved too deep now, too invested in revealing the truth. If they caught the Templars and questioned them, there would be no hiding what they were.
And what then? How would she explain? The lies and deception would be impossible to overlook. Even if she figured out a suitable lie and the government didn't uncover the oddities in their backgrounds, she knew the Templars would probably out them. To save their own skin, they would sing like birds.
Saying goodbye whatever the outcome did not set well with her, either. After only a few days, Evelyn was already torn about her feelings over Rhett. Not one to fall in love at first sight, she still wanted the option to at least get to know him better.
Turning her head to the side, she saw the glowing numbers of the clock on the nightstand: 2:15. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and at least tried to rest. If Christian had come and gone to relieve Rhett, she'd never heard him.
The next thing she knew, weak fingers of light spilled in through the cracks of the curtains over the balcony doors and the scent of food filled her nose. Blinking awake, she saw Rhett standing at the side of her bed with a tray in his hands.
Sitting up, she glanced through the room, bleary eyed.
“Good morning,” he said with too much crisp authority. He sounded like he'd been awake for hours. “I brought you breakfast.”
Evelyn knuckled her eyes and propped her back against the pillows. He set the tray over her lap in that efficient way he had that always made her feel like he was one step ahead of the rest of them.
“Thank you. You didn't have to--”
“I know. Eat, and then we'll have a short chat.”
A short chat. Evelyn snapped a look at his face. He smelled fresh from a
shower, hair still damp, whiskers bristling along his jaw. In dark, plain clothing, he'd slung the holster over his shoulder with the guns tucked into the sheaths. She wondered if he had information about her sisters.
“Did you hear from your boss?” she asked.
“Just eat, hm?” he said, giving her a look that said he wouldn't tell her anything until she'd replenished her energy.
Pancakes, two slices of bacon and scrambled eggs stared up at her from the plate. A small glass of orange juice sat to the side. Suddenly, she realized she was ravenous. Picking up her fork, she dove into the meal that seemed home made rather than ordered up from room service.
Rhett must have had Christian gather supplies and cooked it himself.
She watched him cross the room to scoop back the drapes and tie them off to the side of her balcony doors; through the panes, she could hear the bustle of early shoppers and merchants in the street market below. He didn't open the doors themselves, standing with his hands propped on his hips while he surveyed the building across and what he could see of the milling crowd. Searching for threats. Calm and in control, he didn't act suspicious and yet there was no denying that he was alert and attentive.
She didn't think much got by Mister Rhett Nichols.
He turned with a sharp pivot and slanted her a vague smile that she couldn't read. “I'll be out here when you're done.”
“I'll be out in a little bit.”
He left, closing her door behind him. The man was an enigma, government agent or not. Last night he'd kissed her and this morning she half expected him to start whipping out the 'Miss Grant' again.
Ten minutes later, she set the tray aside with fully three quarters of her meal demolished. Awake, but still needing coffee, she made quick work of a shower. From her luggage she found another pair of jeans and a lemon yellow shirt with tiny white piping to wear. Leaving her hair to dry into natural waves, she folded all the spare cash she could find from the luggage, the identification and credit cards, into her pockets.
Sin and Sacrifice Page 10
