Halo (K19 Security Solutions Book 8)

by Heather Slade

  I thought about calling Tackle, but felt like too much of a pussy to go through with it. Besides, to my knowledge, he’d never been on a mission where the asset, target, whomever, was someone he was personally involved with.

  Several of the other K19 guys had been, including all four of the founding partners. No way in hell I’d talk to any of them about it.

  While Tara and I still hadn’t had sex, last night, she’d clung to me, both awake and asleep. I didn’t press, trusting that when she was ready, she’d talk to me.

  Before I left, I gave her a kiss so hard that I tasted the metallic tang of blood. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, but Tara pulled me back in for more.

  Finally, knowing that if I didn’t leave then, I wouldn’t leave at all, I’d pulled her arms from around my neck and taken a step back. “I’ll be gone four hours tops. You’re safe here, Tara. I wouldn’t leave if I doubted that for a minute.”

  The look in her eyes haunted me still. She was truly afraid, and I hated leaving her feeling that way. I knew, though, that once I did and came back, each time I had to leave after this, would be easier for her.

  22

  Tara

  I wasn’t certain what Knox knew about my past. Probably more than I’d want him to. But how much did he know about the kidnapping? I shuddered like I did every time I thought about it. I’d never been so afraid in my life. I didn’t doubt he’d faced worse. I mean, he told me he’d almost died in a plane crash, for God’s sake.

  He’d said that facing certain death made him want to reach out and grab every happiness he could.

  My ordeal didn’t have the same effect on me. Instead of reaching out to grab anything, I turned inward. I almost never went anywhere alone. It was sheer adrenaline that got me from the States here alone, and then kept me going until I arrived at Valentini. I suppose knowing I had no choice was really what drove me.

  I grabbed my burner phone and went out to the terrazza, wondering if I’d be heard more outside or less. Would Knox or someone else have bugged the farmhouse? Were the people “protecting” me also listening to every word I said?

  It didn’t surprise me Brand’s phone played a message that the number was invalid. He must’ve gotten a new burner phone after I sent him the text messages saying my identity had been discovered and I would not leave Italy.

  I went upstairs, grabbed the bags of art supplies I’d purchased, and brought them downstairs to organize.

  After dividing everything into two sets—one for watercolor and one for when I painted oils—I put the latter back into the bags. Today, I’d start with watercolor since it would be far less complicated to clean up.

  I pulled out my sketchbook and thumbed through the pages, trying to decide what to paint first. Finally, after changing my mind several times, I decided on the view of the Giardino della Gherardesca I’d drawn from the balcony of the hotel. While my sketch was in black and white, I could recall the variances between the deep and lighter green hues so vividly. Not a lot of other colors had popped out at me, given the time of year, but one sculpture had.

  It was a dark bronze of a naked woman. The shape of her body was so much like my own, with small breasts and a slight frame, unlike most of the sculpture I’d seen of women in this part of Italy. I flipped the page until I came to it and then set about marrying the images together. While I’d normally start with a smaller study, with this painting, I went straight to a quarter-sheet.

  The trick with watercolor was to never overwork the image. With oils, I could paint over anything I didn’t think looked just right. With the water-based medium, once I over-corrected, I could paint on the other side of the sheet once it dried, or dump the whole thing in the garbage.

  Since I was embellishing anyway, I took the liberty of changing the hair on the sculpture. It was shoulder-length, but I extended it to her waist—more like mine.

  I forced myself to step away and went out to the terrazza to enjoy the afternoon sun. I hadn’t seen a soul, but had no doubt they were nearby.

  “There she is,” I heard Knox say. I opened and then shielded my eyes from the sun.

  “You’re back.”

  “I am. You’ve been busy. I’ll confess to peeking.”

  “You could hardly do otherwise since I left it on the easel.”

  He sat in the chair beside me and rested his forearms on the table. “It’s really beautiful, Tara.”

  The reverence I heard in his voice filled me with more pride than if I’d sold several cases of Valentini wine. “Thank you. It’s a gift for you, Knox.”

  He sat back and put his hand on his heart. “I didn’t dare hope.” There was no playfulness in his voice, no sarcasm, just sincerity. “Can I go look at it again?”

  I smiled and pushed my chair back to join him.

  “Can I touch it?”

  I laughed. “If you want to.”

  “I mean, I won’t ruin it, will I?”

  “No. It’s dry. Touch away.”

  He picked the painting up by the edges and moved closer to the window. I stood behind him and studied the areas I hadn’t been completely happy with, thrilled that they no longer bothered me.

  Knox carried the painting back to the easel as though it would break apart in his hands if he wasn’t careful. “Is it really for me?” he asked, coming back over to where I stood.

  “It really is. If you want it.”

  He shook his head, smiled, and wrapped his arm around my waist. “I want to watch next time.”

  “Your wish, then, is granted since I planned to do a couple more this afternoon.”

  “You can do more than one in a day?”

  “If I’m inspired.”

  Knox nuzzled my neck. “Did I inspire you?”

  It was as playful and flirtatious as he’d been since he’d asked if anyone else in my family was artistic and I’d reacted so badly.

  “Tara…”

  “Knox…”

  “I’m having really naughty thoughts.”

  “So am I.”

  He pulled back and looked into my eyes. “Do they involve you painting while naked?”

  I might have laughed if I hadn’t seen the heat in his eyes.

  “I was thinking of painting you naked.”

  “Jesus.” I felt the shudder go through him at the same time he clenched my body tight to his. “That was so fucking sexy.”

  I reached up and kissed him, pressing my tongue between his parted lips.

  “Do you know how hard it’s been to keep my hands off of you?” He murmured before bringing his lips back to mine and grasping the back of my neck to hold me still.

  “I do,” I whispered, reaching around to grab the cheeks of his tight ass. I shifted my body to grind against his hardness.

  “Fuck,” he groaned.

  When he put his hands under my ass and lifted, I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. Our mouths stayed plastered together with every step up the staircase.

  Knox stopped outside the bedroom door. “Are you ready for this, Tara?”

  I thought for a split second about giving him a smart-ass response, as in, I’ve been ready, but Knox had had a good reason for us to wait, and I respected him for it.

  “Please,” I said instead.

  He carried me over to the bed, set me on the mattress, and knelt in front of me. He painstakingly slowly unfastened the buttons of my blouse. When he finally reached the bottom, I shrugged the garment from my arms. Knox leaned forward and bit my nipple through the thin lace of my bra.

  “God, I love your tits.”

  “Small,” I muttered.

  “Perfect.” He reached around and unfastened the hooks. I shrugged until it fell away, leaving my breasts bare. He kissed each one and then looked up into my eyes. “Tara, I can’t wait.”

  “I don’t want to wait.” I unfastened my pants, and he pulled them off my body. He lifted me under my arms until I was farther back on the bed, and spread my legs open.

 
; 23

  Halo

  I looked down at her glistening pussy while I tore the clothes from my body. I didn’t care if they remained in one piece, and I sure as hell didn’t care where they landed. Racing over to my bag, I grabbed a condom, tearing it open with my teeth. We had the rest of the day, the night, and as much time after that as we wanted, to take things slow. I’d linger over every inch of her body—later. Now, I had to be inside of her.

  “Tara,” I said again, needing her eyes to meet mine.

  She reached for my cock; I smiled and moved her hand away. “Later, sweetheart.” I positioned myself at her entrance and eased inside. “Are you ready for me, baby?”

  “Yes,” she mewled.

  My eyes rolled back in my head when I felt how tight, wet, and warm she was. I stopped moving and looked into her deep blue eyes. I wanted to remember everything about this moment. I held myself above her with one arm and leaned down to kiss her. I didn’t close my eyes, and neither did she. I loved that.

  “God, you are so tight, so hot around me,” I groaned as I began moving slowly at first, but soon couldn’t hold back. I flipped Tara over, wrapped my arm around her waist, and pounded into her.

  “Knox,” she cried out as her pussy clenched around me. I pulled out and rolled to my back. “I want to watch you make yourself come on me.”

  Tara didn’t hesitate. She straddled me, moving slowly at first but, like me, became frenzied when she couldn’t hold back any longer. I clasped both her hands with mine and looked into her eyes. “Now, Tara,” I groaned as I emptied myself into her.

  She collapsed on my chest, both of us covered in a sheen of sweat, trying to catch our breath. I cupped her cheek with my hand, angled my neck, and captured her mouth with mine. Her touch was soft as she stroked my face with her fingertips.

  “Look at me. Let me see those beautiful eyes. That gorgeous smile.”

  Tara shifted so she was tucked against my side. I turned to face her.

  “You are amazing.”

  Her cheeks flushed, and I knew inside she wanted to deny it but knew I wouldn’t let her.

  “Don’t move,” I said, getting up to dispose of the condom and to make sure I had a couple more handy. When I returned, Tara was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling with a faraway look in her eyes. “Everything okay?”

  She shook her head. “Everything is wonderful.”

  “You scared me for a second.”

  She rolled her eyes and her body toward me at the same time. “As if you have any doubt of your prowess.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Prowess, eh?”

  “You’re a fantastic lover, Knox.”

  There was a time that those words would’ve brought me nothing but pride and pleasure. Not anymore. I wanted so much more than for her to think of me as “a lover.” From this day on, I wanted to be her only lover. What would her reaction be if I admitted to it? Would she scoff? Act as though what had just happened between us didn’t matter?

  I’d confessed to thinking that once Tara and I got to know one another better, she’d realize she was way out of my league.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.” She put one arm around my waist and rested her chin on my chest.

  “Yeah? What if I was thinking that you were also a fantastic lover?”

  “I’d say you were being generous.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Tara, you just rocked the fuck out of my world. So much so, that I’m trying my hardest not to ravage your body again, right this second. There is nothing generous about how much I want you. It’s all greed. I want all of you, and I don’t ever want any other man to have his hands on what I’m already claiming as mine.”

  I couldn’t have stopped blabbering with the bit about rocking my world? Did I really have to keep going and probably scare the shit out of her by admitting I thought of her as mine? I opened my eyes, afraid her thoughts of horror were written on her face. Instead, she was smiling.

  “Yours?”

  “That’s right. All mine.”

  “What about you? Do I get to claim you back?”

  “You did the first time I saw you.”

  Tara and I made love for the rest of the afternoon. That’s what it was. It wasn’t fucking. It wasn’t sex. It was making love to each other’s bodies. Like so many other things I’d admitted to myself in the last few hours, I added another to it. I never dreamed I’d be the kind of guy who thought those words, let alone said them out loud. Making love. Tara and I made love. The more it repeated in my head, the better it sounded.

  “What are you thinking now?” she asked, her chin resting on my chest again.

  “That I want to make love to you all night.” I waited for something to happen. Lightning bolt? Tara to laugh? Me to feel like an idiot as soon as I stopped talking? None of those things happened. Instead, Tara rested her cheek against my heart.

  “I want to make love to you too, Knox. All night…”

  “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?”

  “But I’m really hungry.”

  We ate, we talked, we laughed, we made love all night, and the next morning, the farmhouse was still standing. The earth hadn’t shattered, but every wall I’d unknowingly erected around my heart, had. I was captivated by Tara Emsworth.

  A few days later, Agent Casavetti called to say he’d discovered more information regarding Richard Emsworth and asked if I could make arrangements to return to his office.

  “You have to leave again?” Tara asked, biting her lip when I told her I’d be going back to Florence the next morning.

  I cupped her cheek. “Are you going to miss me?”

  “No. I mean, yes, but…”

  I tightened the arm I had around her as we lay in bed. “But?”

  “Ever since… the kidnapping. I get anxious.”

  I kissed the top of her head. “Completely understandable, but I assure you, you’re safe here.”

  “We were supposed to be safe then too.”

  I’d heard about the mission that resulted in Tara, Aine McNamara, and Penelope Ramsey being kidnapped by a group of Armenians. I hadn’t heard how the kidnappers got to them, and I wasn’t sure now would be the right time to ask.

  “Did you know I was also kidnapped?”

  She looked up at me with wide eyes.

  “I was in Somalia, undercover. Tackle was with me. A band of pirates thought we were their tickets to vast riches.”

  “What happened?”

  “Striker brought a team in, and they rescued us.”

  “I thought they were going to kill us. I was sure of it,” she said.

  I put my finger on the bottom of her chin so she’d look at me. “I wish I had been there to keep you safe, Tara. I promise you now, though, you are. No one can get to you here.”

  “I wish I could say that makes me feel better, but it doesn’t. Before I left New York, I was on medication for anxiety. I’m obviously not anymore.”

  “Would it help if you were?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’ll look into finding a doctor who can write you a prescription. In the meantime, I want you to remember that I left before. You were safe, and I came back. The same thing will happen tomorrow.”

  “I know you’re right, but after seeing that man in Florence. I couldn’t go through it again, Knox. I swear it would kill me even if the kidnappers didn’t.”

  “It isn’t going to happen again, Tara. Please try to trust that I won’t allow it.”

  She nodded and rested her cheek against my heart. I waited for her to fall asleep before I allowed myself to drift off. At least, I hoped she was asleep.

  When I arrived at the AISE field office the next day, Agent Casavetti told me additional victims had come forward to say the artwork they’d purchased via Richard Emsworth were verified to be forgeries.

  “There are more victims of these crimes who will not come forward,” he warned.

  “You say that as though you k
now who some of them are.”

  Matteo opened a laptop and stood to turn off the lights in the room when a digital slideshow appeared on a screen on the other side of the room.

  “The two Van Gogh pieces you see on the screen were discovered at a known member of the ’Ndrangheta crime syndicate’s home. They were stolen over a decade ago.” I had to admit that while I wasn’t an art aficionado, I was certainly aware of the artist and his work. These were two paintings I’d never seen before.

  The next image that came on the screen was of thirteen different images. “The heist in which all of this artwork was stolen occurred over thirty years ago. One of the works was recently discovered when a construction crew began excavating a building known to be owned by a ’Ndrangheta boss.”

  “Where are you going with this, Agent Casavetti?”

  “It seems there is a secret tradition of art theft among the crime families that goes back to the early twentieth century. As you know, Italy is the greatest artistic treasure house in Europe. Even the most hardened of criminal hearts can’t help knowing the value of the art that surrounds us every day—even in the streets of our cities.”

  He was taking a long time to get to the point, but I saw where he was going.

  “We have reason to believe the ’Ndrangheta is using stolen art as collateral or even currency in drug deals. Possession of artistic masterpieces is considered tremendous wealth. While it obviously cannot be sold through legal means, that is true of most everything that changes hands through the black market.”

  “Emsworth sold forged paintings to members of the ’Ndrangheta?”

  “That is our belief, yes.”

  “Do you think he’s still alive?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “Tell me why, Matteo.”

  “Our sources believe they want the forger’s head before they take his.”

  “Do your sources have any idea who the forger is?”

  Casavetti nodded slowly. “They believe it is someone in his family.”