Cleopatra's Necklace (Devlin Security Force Book 3) (12 page)

She steeled herself against his energy, against her own emotions. “Let me finish.”

“Go ahead.”

She was about to bare her soul, reveal her failings with his unrelenting gaze boring into her. She couldn’t look away or move away, although he’d released her hands.

“During the past few years,” she began, her voice reedy, “I’ve learned to rely on myself.” Her voice grew firmer, as if absorbing his strength through her fingertips. “I made mistakes but they were
my
mistakes. If I caused pain, it was only my pain.”

He jabbed his fingers through his hair. “Cleo, you’re intelligent and imaginative. I’ve always known you to be genuine, to follow your instincts. But usually those instincts meant running
away
from pain and toward the next bright thing, not
toward
danger.”

So much for admitting her failings. He already knew them. Well, most of them. “True. But not this time. I can’t escape the pain and guilt of Mimi’s suffering by running off to a new adventure or immersing myself in a new painting. The necklace really has nothing to do with Mimi, but the search for it caused her injury. I want to believe she’ll be all right, so
when
she recovers and I see her again I can tell her I didn’t just sit in a corner and wait for you to fix things. I
acted
.”

She managed only shallow breaths as she waited for his next argument. In his gaze were the perception and decisiveness he’d honed to fierce perfection in the army.

“Well, Thomas? Do we have a deal?”

He caressed her hair, trailed his hand down her neck, eliciting a tiny shiver. “You hold the cards, babe. We’ll work out the details later.”

Wonder of wonders, he wasn’t arguing further. And this time
babe
had a different sound, an affectionate feel. She started to hug him but curbed the impulse, awarding herself a virtual high five for self-restraint. “I need your promise you won’t back out of our agreement after I tell you René’s clue.”

“How do you know you can trust me?”

“I know you. When we were kids, you never broke a promise to me. My brothers did, all the time. But you, never.”

“You don’t know me, not anymore.”

“We’ll have to trust each other. Give me your promise we’re partners in the search for Cleopatra’s necklace.”

“I promise.” He smiled, a slow, breathtaking curve of lips that pooled sensation between her legs. “But a promise should be sealed with a kiss.”

His mouth closed over hers.

His heat seared her senses. He slid his tongue along the edges of her trembling lips, then probed inside, sampling and savoring. She absorbed his coffee-flavored taste. Spiraling pleasure and yearning not stemmed by last night’s loving flooded her veins, and her heart beat a tattoo in her chest. Barely aware she even had legs to support her, she wrapped her arms around his waist and answered the kiss with equal passion.

She wanted to yield to the seductive pull of his compelling masculinity. His compassion and caring tempted her to forget he was a man used to command, a man who could be ruthless to achieve what he wanted. Right now he wanted
her
.

Pushing gently against his hard chest, she ended the kiss. “Thomas, I can’t.”

She felt his arms slip away from her with reluctance.

He stepped back, eyes unfocused, breath coming in gasps. He jabbed fingers through his hair, shook himself to alertness. “Can’t?”

She nodded, hoping she didn’t appear as shaky and uncertain as she felt. “Last night was wonderful, but it was last night. If I’m to get through what’s probably facing us, I need to put that aside. No kisses. No sex.” She forced her lips into a smile.

“Right.” He sidled toward the suite door. “I need to pick up some things. Um, from the shops before we reach port.” He bolted out the door without reminding her to stay put.

Thomas Devlin, shaken, inarticulate. A first. She smiled, inordinately pleased.

BEFORE NOON, THE
Emerald
tied up to mooring buoys in the deep waters of Santorini’s volcanic caldera. Thomas made certain Stacy and Deidre had left for their shore-excursion before he and Cleo boarded a beamy orange tender.

They squeezed between other passengers in the stern, packed as tightly as in a military transport, but with the benefit of a cooling Mediterranean breeze and a view of the crystalline Aegean basin. From that vantage point he could observe the other passengers as the craft sped to shore.

“Any sign of Sergio?” Cleo whispered.

He shook his head, savoring the puff of her breath against his ear and the familiar perfume of her skin. “There were earlier trips, so he could already be on shore. With other hired thugs.”

“And on the lookout for me, the bastard.”

Her bravado didn’t fool him. He draped his arm around her shoulders, the only comfort he dared offer after his earlier loss of control. What the hell had he been thinking, kissing her? Easy answer. He hadn’t thought. He’d simply acted. If she hadn’t come to her senses, he’d have had her naked. Again.

Yielding to his need—correction, desire—for her now was nuts. After the danger passed, a few nights in his bed, a hot fling would satisfy his craving for her, only sharpened last night. They were polar opposites. Cleo breezy and enthusiastic and fascinating. And he was, hell, a workaholic and boring.

And the age difference. He used to think of her as another little sister. Why was he so preoccupied with her? He had to control his impulses before he crushed the fragile friendship they’d begun to rebuild. More important, he had to regain objectivity before he endangered her further.

Right, now he had a mission strategy. So why didn’t he feel better?

And dammit, she’d extracted his promise but had yet to share Moreau’s clue.

After another check of their fellow passengers, he turned his gaze to the island’s limestone cliffs, created millennia ago by a volcanic eruption and soaring skyscraper height above the harbor. Tourists on donkey back negotiated switchbacks, and chains of cable cars angled up the slope to Thira, its cube houses and domed chapels gleaming white beneath the clear sweep of sky.

Two boats rocked gently at the cement docks. A sign in English and Greek identified one as the inter-island ferry. The other was a speedboat with twin Mercury 350s. Beside it stood three burly men smoking. A good bet they were Sergio’s cronies.

Cleo spotted them too, judging from her scowl.

As sailors tied up at the dock, all his senses energized into battle-ready mode. He hoped he’d thought of enough to fool the kidnappers. “All set, babe?”

“Roger, Ranger.”

Her smile wobbled but if she could crack wise, she’d make it. He stood and hooked his arms into the pack he’d bought earlier. Their escape meant leaving behind belongings but he had some clothes and his phone. But damn, he felt naked without a sidearm.

On the dock, two uniformed police officers or harbor police with holstered sidearms chatted up the voluptuous blonde in the souvenir stand. The speedboat guys could snatch half a dozen women and take off before those cops ever noticed.

Cleo adjusted the broad-brimmed sunhat, his other purchase, keeping her features concealed as they stepped into the hot sun. “Two cops, not much protection against those big thugs.” She hustled along with him to the cable-car line.

Thomas picked out Sergio but the acrobat appeared not to spot Cleo. A long line snaked ahead of them along the quay to the ticket booth. The longer they had to wait, the more chance for discovery.

“Might not need the cop.” He hoped. The two officers looked too young to have experience with any bad guys more dangerous than pickpockets. “Sergio and company won’t chance snatching you among all these other passengers.” Plus, the goons were looking for a woman alone, not a couple.

“Junior here was a good idea.” She patted her padded middle and switched the black quilted pack to her other shoulder.

Thomas heard loud commands in Greek erupt behind them. Angling his head, he saw a white-shirted cable-car company employee trying to shoo Sergio away from the queue. The acrobat had moved halfway along in a search for Cleo.

“Stand in front of me,” Thomas ordered. He moved to block anyone behind them from getting a good look at her. “Turn slightly to look out at the water.”

“Is it Sergio? Does he see me?” Her voice vibrated with fear. The creep’s attack last night had done a number on her. And yet today she was ready to face the threat again.

Sergio must’ve said something convincing to the official because he once again advanced, surveying every female in the line. Thomas had fifty pounds and a few inches on him. While it would give him great satisfaction to deck the guy, a scuffle might draw in the other thugs. And the cops.

He clenched his jaw. “I’ve got you. We’ll make it. Follow my lead.”

Taking her hand, he pulled her up the line. “I’m sorry. My wife’s not feeling well. We need to get up to the top, get her some cool water.”

Already ashen with fear, she didn’t need to do much acting. She flattened a hand against her protruding belly and offered a wan smile. Outraged countenances morphed immediately to sympathetic expressions.

Sergio yelled as they reached the ticket booth.

“He sees me.” Cleo’s voice rose in pitch. She clutched his sleeve. “He’s calling the others.”

“Right. Keep moving.” Thomas shoved euros into the booth and plucked up the tickets.

Behind him, the same passengers who had allowed them to pass confronted Sergio and another goon with a solid wall of resistance. The cops joined the fray, Thomas pelted with Cleo up the stairway to where the cars waited, swaying on their cables.

They joined four others in the last car. As soon as the official secured the door, the chain of cars began gliding up the cliff.

He looked back but saw no sign of Sergio or the others.

She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.

“You’ll feel better soon, dear.” The matronly woman with gray curls sitting across from them smiled, indulgence in her soft gaze. “The first few months are the hardest.”

“Thank you,” Cleo replied. “I feel better already.”

Thomas didn’t. He wouldn’t feel better until he got her off this island to Mykonos and aboard a plane to Athens. And picturing her slim form round with child—
his
child—didn’t improve his objectivity.

Once disgorged from the cable car, they bought bottled water at a kiosk and asked directions to the taxi stand.

Cleo opened her bottle and savored the cold liquid. Her stomach was settling and her pulse finally normalizing.  No wonder the woman in the cable car had been sympathetic. She must’ve looked positively grim from fear and heat. The only thing keeping her going had been Thomas’s strong arm and his determination.

This might not be the last scare or the last narrow escape. If she didn’t keep herself together, she’d never help him find the necklace, never hold up during the chase ahead, and never stand up for Mimi.

She dumped her belly pillow in a trash can and unwound the scarf that had held it in place. “Ah, better. I wonder if being pregnant is hot like that.”

When Thomas made no reply, his rigid mask and long-distance stare told her he was on guard. She knew his military bearing, but not this wired, preternaturally alert aura. Scary protective. And lethally sexy. She’d love to sketch him. And more...
Note to self: Not going there. Stay focused.
She averted her gaze to the crowded lane of shops and restaurants.

They made their way through the maze of cobblestone pedestrian lanes lined with white-walled shops and houses. Olives in jars and cans, olive soaps, and T-shirts crowded shop displays. As they passed an outdoor café, aromas of lamb dishes and a sign for the local white wine reminded her she hadn’t eaten much breakfast.

The brightly painted doors and the balconies and stoops splashed with bougainvillea and potted flowers charmed her. If they got out of this fix, she’d come back and paint these incredible scenes.

No,
when
they made it out. She pictured Cleopatra wearing the chin-high, golden choker with its armor of jewels. The Queen of the Nile would be tough, bold, not quivering like a wet kitten.

When they reached the traffic-filled commercial street away from the souvenir shops, Thomas showed her his phone screen. “Del Rio said to look for this license number. He knows the driver. We can trust him.”

“You keep looking for bad guys. Didn’t we leave them at the bottom of the cliff?”

He regarded her with a soldier’s cool vigilance. “That set of creeps, yes, but they could ride the next cable-car run up. We need to make it to the airport before they catch up. And others could be anywhere.”

She swallowed as her pulse fired up again. She forced calm by searching the license tags. A European Ford waited third in the taxi line. “The tan Ford, that’s the taxi.”

She waited as Thomas scanned the area in a three-sixty sweep. A break in the two-way traffic allowed them to dash across the street, and he called to the driver.

The fortyish man named Andres smiled at the mention of Lucas Del Rio. “Ah, yes, Lucas said I should expect you this afternoon.” A thick accent colored his English.

After handshakes all around, Andres ushered them into the taxi. In spite of the open windows, the interior smelled of the remnants of previous passengers—cigar smoke and perfume. Other drivers made vociferous objections to a driver taking passengers out of turn but Andres yelled something that quieted them.

“I told them you were my cousins from America.” He chuckled as he pulled away from the curb into the bumper-to-bumper traffic on the narrow street. Voices, traffic noise, and exhaust blew in through the open cab windows.

“Del Rio did tell you there are men are after us?” Thomas leaned forward.

Andres bobbed his head. “I have a car for you, not far. You will blend in.”

The transfer was meant to throw off any pursuers who saw them enter the taxi. Thomas had shared with her all the security steps he and Del Rio agreed upon. Knowing what they had to do gave her more confidence than being in the dark.

Note to self: The Queen of the Nile would deal.

A few turns onto a back street took them to an auto repair shop where mechanics toiled beneath a pickup on a lift. Andres led them to an older Fiat parked beside the garage. The go-cart-size vehicle was probably white beneath its layer of dust and dents. “The mechanic loans it to customers. I will return it to him later.”

“It’s not a long ride, right?” Thomas asked.

“Only twenty minutes. Very fast. A shame you cannot stay longer and enjoy my beautiful island.” He handed Thomas the keys and a map. “The airport is small. My brother Theodoros works for Avis. I wrote his number and mine on the map. Call him before you enter. He will spot any danger. Suspicious men will stand out.”

“And the other thing Del Rio mentioned?” Thomas said, his voice and expression harsh as if he suspected a betrayal.

“A request more difficult to arrange.” Andres gestured toward the car. “In the glove box. If not needed, I can return it.”

“Andres, my friend Del Rio chose well in contacting you,” Thomas said, reaching for his wallet. “What do I owe you?”

The cabby shook his head. “My youngest brother owes Lucas Del Rio his life. Marios borrowed money. He did not know his lenders were criminals until too late. He could not pay and they would have killed him. When Lucas rescued a kidnap victim, he also helped my brother escape. Those criminals went to prison and Marios attends university in Athens. My family does not forget. Whatever Lucas asks of me, I do.”

Hearing the emotion roughening the man’s voice warmed Cleo. Mimi wasn’t the first person Lucas Del Rio had rescued. She had to meet this man and thank him.

“He is an honorable man. And a good friend,” Thomas said.

After handshakes all around and Andres’s departure, Thomas held out the car keys. “Can you handle driving on these roads?”

She snatched the keys and slid inside the car. “I’ll have you know I’ve negotiated Paris and Rome traffic. Little island roads will be no problem.”

Folding himself into the Fiat’s passenger seat, he groaned at the tight quarters for his long legs.

“Good thing the car’s owner isn’t Procrustes.”

He eyed her with a wry expression. “I’ll keep the length of my legs, thank you. Been reading up on Greek mythology?”

“Nope. I remember that story from school. It gave me nightmares.”

He reached into the glove box and extracted a cloth bundle. Unfolded, the padded cotton displayed a steel-gray pistol and two magazines.

She sucked in a breath. “Is that like the pistol that...” She couldn’t say the words.

“Yes, like the nine millimeter that shot Mimi. A common weapon in these parts.” He examined the weapon. “In good condition.” Apparently satisfied, he inserted one of the magazines and checked the safety before returning everything to its hiding place.

The reason he wanted her to drive. “I can handle a gun.” Not that she wanted to. Channeling Cleopatra only went so far.