Zulu, page 34
His question, asked with complete control, was void of any emotion, but I saw his eyes.
“I am fine.” I was not fine.
His jaw muscles flexed ever so slightly. “You lie to me again, we’re going to have a problem.”
That time, his deep, commanding voice did have emotion. “They slapped me twice and threw me down the…” Suddenly, I could not say the word. Four letters I did not want to think about. Not now, maybe not ever again.
As if understanding exactly what I was thinking, he nodded. “You have severe dehydration, and I’m assuming you weren’t fed either. Your face will heal, and the bruising where you were restrained will fade. I’m concerned about your back though.”
It suddenly occurred to me that I was not in my filthy dress, my hair was damp, and my head was resting on his lap. I looked down.
Oh my God.
Mottled bruising on my arms and ankles, a needle in my arm with an IV bag attached to the ceiling above me, I was in a much too big T-shirt and a pair of women’s leggings I did not own.
And I was clean.
All of a sudden, I was not thinking about my sore back from when I was dropped in the dirt prison and the chair had landed hard. I was not thinking about my cheek or my cracked lips or parched throat.
I looked back at up him. “You washed me.” He saw me naked.
“I did.” He did not move, he did not give any hint in his tone.
Gratitude warred with embarrassment. “Did anyone else…see me?”
His nostrils flared with a sharp inhale as if he were angry before he quickly masked it, but his voice came out rougher, harder. “I would never, and I do mean never, let that fucking happen. I carried you aboard. I cleaned you up. I dressed you. You’re in my T-shirt and a pair of borrowed leggings from Alpha’s woman that happened to be on board. And now you’re on my lap,” he stated, emphasizing the last two words as if he were incensed.
I did not understand all of the nuances in his tone shifts, but I knew one thing. I was no longer upset that he had seen me naked. He had taken care of me—gently, expertly and with extreme care.
Reaching up with my unfettered arm, I touched his face. “Thank you.”
“Don’t ever thank me again,” he bit out as his face contorted with fury.
Startled, I dropped my hand.
Sucking in a sudden and deep breath, he briefly looked up. Then he looked back down at me, his expression carefully controlled. “I left you. I left you on the goddamn boat, with your fucking ill-equipped crew, and you were taken because of me. Do. Not. Thank me.” He inhaled again. “That never should’ve happened, Parisa.” His voice dropped. “And I swear to fucking God, if you forgive me, I will never, ever, let it happen again.”
All at once, I understood.
“You are blaming yourself for me like I am blaming myself for Levi.” I reached for his chest and put my hand over his heart as tears welled. “You told me I was not responsible for Levi’s death.” I tried to swallow past the impossible weight of horrible guilt. “If you are responsible for me being taken, then I am responsible for Levi.” Tears I had been unable to cry before now slipped down my cheeks.
Swiping at my face, giving me all the years of war and duty and burdens he carried in one single look, my warrior covered my throat with his dominating hand. “You will not blame yourself for Levi.”
I wanted to believe him. I selfishly, horribly wanted to take his words and make them my own. But I could not. Not even when I knew his reasoning was sound. I did not know Levi, but I knew him enough to know he had been the same type of man as Zane. Duty bound.
Levi had done his duty.
I said the only thing I could. “I will grieve his loss the rest of my life.”
My warrior did not hesitate. “I will feel responsible for you being taken for the rest of mine.”
I wrapped my hand around his wrist.
“Sleep, Kitten,” he quietly ordered, brushing the back of his hand gently over my bruised cheek. “You need to rest.”
“I do not need to forgive you because I do not blame you.”
For one suspended heartbeat, he did not move, he did not speak.
Then my warrior leaned over and gently touched his lips to mine. “All of me,” he whispered.
Zulu
She’d thankfully fallen back asleep, because if I had to stare at those eyes full of grief and fear for one more minute, I was going to lose my fucking shit.
I wasn’t going to rest until this was finished.
I’d meant what I’d said to Alpha. Every last asshole responsible for taking her was going down.
With her head still on my lap, Alpha made the final approach into Athens as November swapped out second chair with Delta and made his way aft cabin.
Sitting down across from us with his laptop, November glanced at Parisa. “How is she?”
“Traumatized.”
November nodded. He, out of any of us, got it. “Solace docked a few minutes ago in Port of Piraeus. By the time we’re done refueling, you’ll have the clothes for her you asked for, but head’s up, Tomer’s bringing them, and he’s already requested to see her.”
“Request denied. Tell him she’ll be in touch when she’s ready.”
“Copy. I have the intel you requested.” He turned his screen around to face me.
Leaning forward, I scanned the sat images and took note of positions. “Got it.” I leaned back. “How current?”
“Six minutes ago.”
Fucking perfect. “You got a car waiting?”
“Yes. Traffic’s light, and I’m tapped in, ready to go. Stick to the timeline, and you’ll get in and out undetected.”
“Good copy.” I debated asking him one last question.
Before I could open my fucking mouth, he beat me to it. “For informational purposes only, the eldest wasn’t in on it.”
“Don’t care.” I still wanted him dead.
November nodded. “Also, for informational purposes, I know who you spoke to on the ground at Teterboro. Whatever goes down, you’re covered.”
I stared at November. He was leaving something out. “Say what’s on your mind,” I demanded.
His gaze drifted for a beat, then he looked back at me. “All of them die, then she stands to inherit the company.” He paused for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. “There’s perception in that.” Standing, his eyes already back on his laptop, he typed something. “Touchdown in three minutes. I’ll keep an eye on her while you’re offline.” November walked to the front of the plane.
I was still fucking stewing over what he’d said as Alpha taxied.
Staring at her peaceful face as she slept off the sedative I’d put in her IV, I knew what I had to fucking do, what the right thing to do was, but I didn’t goddamn like it.
Easing her off me and standing as I gently laid her back down, I covered her with a blanket, then holstered my Sig and pocketed an extra magazine. Leaving everything else on board except my gun and my cell, I was opening the airstairs before Alpha had brought his Falcon to a complete stop.
“Wait, motherfucker,” Echo clipped. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.” I was doing this on my own. “Stay with her.” He was better at triage than Whiskey, Delta or November.
“Not a fucking chance. We could’ve refueled anywhere. I know what the fuck you’re up to, and I’m the only asshole on this plane fluent in Greek.”
I threw him and his bullshit a look. “You speak Italian.”
“I speak dead motherfuckers. That’s Greek enough.” Echo did a mag check on his M4. “Let’s go.”
Whiskey got out of his seat and stepped behind Echo. “I’m coming, too.”
Jesus fucking Christ. “This isn’t a goddamn party.”
Echo smirked. “Could be.”
Ignoring both of them, I walked off the plane to the waiting SUV November had arranged and got behind the wheel. Echo got in front, and Whiskey took the backseat. No one said shit until I was circling the rear of the Piraeus estate.
Then Echo checked his magazine again and spoke up. “Not that I fucking care, but you got a plan here, motherfucker? Or are we just gonna kick down the door and light shit up?”
Scanning the back of the property, I ignored him.
Whiskey didn’t. “I’m just curious, Echo. Did you actually pass the ASVAB?”
Echo spun in his seat. “You know what happened to the last motherfucker who called me stupid?” He didn’t give Whiskey a chance to reply. “His brains decorated the backseat of this vehicle.” Turning to face forward again, Echo muttered under his breath. “I’ll ASVAB you, motherfucker.”
I parked, and a text came through. “Hold.” Glancing at my cell, I looked at the newest satellite image November sent. Then I pocketed my phone, palmed my Sig and screwed on the silencer as I glanced between Echo and Whiskey. “All three brothers and Kairos’s four guards are in the living room. We’re using the back entrance, bypassing the kitchen and going straight in. Rapid strike, everyone goes down except for Kostas. I repeat, do not fucking kill Kostas, not even if he draws. I’m taking Kairos and Giorgios. You’re each taking two guards. I’m going to have a word with Kostas, then we’re out. We’re back on the plane in less than twenty minutes, or they’re leaving without us. Questions?”
“No,” Whiskey answered.
“It’s your party. Personally, I’d take out brother-fucker too, but you didn’t ask.” Echo reached for his door. “Let’s finish this, motherfuckers.”
Sixty-five seconds later, I was tip of the spear, hitting the living room first before Whiskey and Echo flanked.
I didn’t fucking hesitate.
My first shot hit Kairos between the eyes as the piece of shit was mid-laugh. A split second later, my second shot dropped Giorgios as all four guards went down. Then the barrel of my Sig was aimed at Kostas’s head.
Dropping his drink, Kostas shot to his feet, but then he fucking stood there, mouth open, arms up in surrender, frantically glancing between me and the carnage.
“Kostas,” I clipped.
The fucking asshole looked at me and raised his arms higher. Then he gave himself away. “I didn’t do it.”
“But you fucking knew about it.”
He went dead white and repeated himself, this time quieter. “I didn’t do it.”
“This is your one and only warning,” I bit out. “You do not speak of her, contact her, tell a fucking soul who she is, or even think of her, ever again, or I will come back and make you fucking bleed until you beg me for death. Understood?”
Kostas nodded.
“Understood?” I fucking yelled.
“Yes!”
“Anyone asks, this was a Vincenzo hit. You were spared because of who your mother was.” I gave him one last warning. “But if you so much as fucking breathe in her direction again, I won’t give a fuck whose DNA you carry.”
“I-I don’t associate with the Vincenzos,” the fuck stammered.
“Not my problem.” I had one last question. “Who took out her lawyer in Zurich?”
The fucking dick blinked, but then he lied to me. “I don’t know.”
I took a step toward him. “Who?”
“I don’t know! Kairos said he had two men in Zurich. He said he sent them to handle her attorney and get the paperwork. That’s all I know, I swear!”
Done with him, I turned toward the door.
“I was trying to warn her,” Kostas blurted.
I fucking spun. “But you goddamn didn’t. She was in danger, and you didn’t say shit.” This asshole didn’t deserve to live.
Jumping back, arms still up, he kept fucking talking like I wasn’t about to put a bullet through his skull. “You don’t understand. My father threatened me, he said not tell anyone, to keep it in the family or he’d kill us too. My hands were tied. He said he had a plan he was working on, that’d we’d all be rich, but we had to wait. Then he died, and Kairos took over. That’s when I was trying to warn her, after my father died, after his funeral. Kairos is…” The fuck glanced at his dead brother. “Kairos was worse than my father, but I had to take my chance. I just wanted Taralas Shipping to get out from under all the corrupt deals my father made over the years. I swear I was trying to warn her. If she would’ve only talked to me, I was going to make her an offer. I thought if we got marr—”
I shoved my Sig into his mouth. “I don’t fucking care what you thought you were doing, or what you were going to do. You finish that sentence, you’re dead. You ever drug a woman again, you’re dead. You piss me off, in any way—YOU. ARE. DEAD.” Removing my Sig from his mouth, I wiped the barrel on his shirt slow and deliberate as I fucking leveled him with the last warning he was ever going to get from me.
Then I holstered my 9mm and turned to leave.
Echo muttered a curse in Italian and put another round in Kairos.
Keeping his aim on Kostas, Whiskey backed out of the room.
We all got in the SUV, and I threw it in gear, but then I glanced at Whiskey. “I have a favor.”
“Zurich,” he stated, already knowing what I wanted because that was what Whiskey did. He eliminated problems.
“Zurich,” I confirmed. “Find those two fucks Kairos hired.”
“And the attorney?”
There wasn’t a chance in hell the lawyer was still alive, but I still wanted him found. “Find him too.”
“Done.”
Fourteen minutes later, I was back on the Falcon, hands washed of GSR, and my still-sleeping Kitten was in my arms as Alpha took off.
Parisa
For the second time, I awoke in his arms.
Except this time, he was carrying me.
“Kitten.” His voice rough with exhaustion, he shouldered his way through a door.
My throat still feeling scratchy, but not as bad, I tested my own voice. “Where are we?”
“Miami Beach. My penthouse.”
I exhaled in relief.
Still holding me, he glanced down. “Figured you weren’t ready for your boat yet.”
“Thank you.” I wasn’t. I didn’t know if I ever would be again. The thought too much to think about right now, I looked around the massive penthouse that was nothing like I expected.
All gleaming white surfaces, open plan, floor-to-ceiling windows, the entire place looked newer than the Solace. And unlived in. The furnishings nothing like what I would have associated with someone like him, they fit the space with their modern, crisp lines, but it did not look like he had ever utilized any of it.
Before I could think about the main living area or the bright sunlight pouring in from the spectacular view of the beach and ocean, he was walking down a long hallway and stepping into a room I instantly would have known was his, even if my eyes were closed.
His bedroom.
The only place in the penthouse that smelled like him.
Striding right toward a bed that was as large as mine on the Solace, but looked much more inviting with its deep ocean blue comforter and matching sheets, he gently set me down.
“You hungry?”
Surprisingly, I wasn’t, but I did need to use the restroom. “I am not. Are you?”
“I’m good. I ate on the plane.” He kissed my forehead once. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
His wide shoulders taking up almost the entire width of his bedroom door, he disappeared down the hall. I heard a fridge door open and shut, then it sounded like he kicked the front door closed. A few seconds later, he was walking back into the bedroom, two bottles of water under each arm, as he carried my two largest suitcases into the room. Casually setting them just inside the master closet as if they belonged there, same as his clothing, he then strode toward the bed.
Twisting the cap off one of the waters, he held the bottle out for me. “Drink.”
For a second, a flashback threatened from that simple sound of a plastic bottle opening, but then I pushed it down and took the water.
Staring at both the warrior who had saved me and my suitcases in the closet behind him, I took a sip of the cold water and used the moment to find my voice. “You got me my clothes.” I was simultaneously grateful and taken off guard.
“I only requested it. Your stewardess packed them, and Tomer delivered them to the plane when we landed in Greece to refuel.”
Tomer, Greece, refuel. “I slept through all of that?”
“You were sedated.”
The IV. “Why?”
His chest rose and fell before he answered. “You want real or sanitized?”
I blinked. “Real.”
“You want sanitized,” he stated authoritatively, before rattling off an explanation that was neither sanitized nor his version of real. “You were severely dehydrated, in shock, and had been through a traumatizing experience. You needed to rest and to put some distance in the form of time between you and the events over the past few days. I put a mild sedative in your IV while we hydrated you and gave you some nutrients, which is why you aren’t hungry yet, but you will be by tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. I glanced out at the bright daylight. “What time is it?”
“Sixteen hundred hours, local time.”
I translated his military speak. “Four in the afternoon.” Miami Beach was bright in the afternoon.
“Yes. I’m going to grab some clean towels from the laundry room in case you want to shower. Be right back.” He turned to leave.
I felt the need to ask permission. “May I use the restroom?”
Halting mid-stride, he pivoted and came back, reaching as if to pick me up again.
I didn’t mean to, but I shrank back. “I can manage.”
The stark, intense expression in his eyes giving nothing away, he simply held out his hand.
I took it.
He pulled me to my feet, and a nauseating wave of dizziness took me off balance.
As if he knew it would happen, and that I would be unsteady, his other hand was already firmly on my waist. Holding us perfectly still, he waited.
A moment later, after inhaling slowly a few times, I straightened my posture.
He frowned. “For the record, I’d prefer to carry you, and normally I wouldn’t ask. I’d just pick you up again, but Kitten, you’re throwing off gun-shy vibes like a goddamn blast wave, and I’m trying like hell to be respectful.”
