You Only Love Twice (37 page)

“Phoebe?” Ten was behind her.

“Jesse. This was about Jesse.” Simon kept up with them.

She just ran. She ran past the living area and back to the
room where she and Jesse had become man and wife. Maybe not in the eyes of the
law, but they’d bonded in their hearts. Her husband was sleeping and she was
going to laugh because she was so damn paranoid.

Except she wasn’t. She flung open the door and the bed was
empty. There was a huge hole cut in the window and she could see the ropes that
had allowed the team to lower the scaffold down.

She watched in horror as a helicopter flew past and then
moved quickly into the distance.

Jesse was gone.

He was stuck again. Damn. He knew this dream. It started
with the world going hazy. His eyes wouldn’t focus. He could shake his head, but
somehow the world remained fuzzy. His stomach twisted and that was when he
realized that whatever he’d eaten was about to come back up.

He was on his back. That wasn’t good. Even with the world
spinning around him, he knew he couldn’t stay on his back. With sheer force of
will, he turned just before the bile got to be too much.

So fucking weak. He needed to make it to the bathroom, but
his gut wouldn’t wait. He got to his knees and then let it go. He shuddered and
shook, but when it was done, he finally felt the tiniest bit better.

He moved away from the mess he’d made and tried to focus.
This time it was a little easier.

“Phoebe?” He seemed to have some sort of flu. Or he’d eaten
something he shouldn’t have. He couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t he remember?
The last thing he could recall was Phoebe in his arms. She’d cried herself to
sleep, but it had been a good thing. It had been healing.

Where was she?

Why was the ground under him so hard? Their room had plush
carpet. Everything about it was luxurious, so why had his knees banged against
what felt like concrete? He forced himself to really still. His eyesight
finally stabilized and he could see the ground beneath him. Definitely concrete
and not the pretty, stained kind. This was the color of dull steel.

He wasn’t in his room.

His back was to something. His hands were free so he reached
around. A wall and then to his left was metal. Through the haze he recognized a
cot. He’d been laid on the cot in a room he didn’t recognize.

“Hello, Mr. Murdoch. It’s a pleasure to see you.”

He was going to be sick again. That voice. Yes, this was a
nightmare and he needed to wake up because he was going to scare Phoebe. He
could get violent when he dreamed, but since he’d started sleeping with her, he
hadn’t had the dream. Not even once.

His hands shook. Fine trembles that were as much about fear
as they were the shaky state of his body. He was afraid. He’d always hated
that, didn’t want people to see it. After he’d come home the first time and
started seeing Eve and then Kai, he’d told them he wasn’t afraid. It was a lie
meant to save face. And then Ian had sat him down with a beer one night and
told him that only a fucking idiot wasn’t afraid and that fear was a gift to
help the intelligent creatures of the world not get their asses blown away.

So he was willing to admit just how scared he was and
somehow in accepting it, he was able to control it.

“I see you’re not as used to our cocktails as once you were.
I’ll have them dial down the dosage for next time. I don’t want you to be sick.
I need you good and healthy for our training sessions.” The voice had a deep,
almost hypnotic quality to it. Just the sound of it sent him back years to that
horrible place where he wasn’t Jesse Murdoch anymore, to where he was someone’s
dog to be beaten and abused.

His vision started to fade again. That was when he realized
this might not be a dream. In his dreams, he always stayed in control and
fought. He was a better version of himself in his dreams. In real life, he
retreated and let some fucking beast take over. Or he gave in to the drugs and
pretended nothing was wrong.

“You’re wondering if you’re dreaming,” the voice mused. His
shoes rang against the concrete as he moved closer. “Aren’t you? Let me ask you
this. What would be worse? Learning that this is the only reality? That the
last few years were only a dream brought on by the narcotics I gave you? In
that scenario you’ve really lost nothing, but you gained nothing as well. Your
woman was simply a dream. Or is it worse if she’s reality and you’ve lost her?”

This was what the fucker did. He loved to put scenarios out
there. He could talk all day.

He could talk all day.

If the Caliph was talking, then time was passing, precious
time Jesse needed.

“I don’t know. I think she was real. It felt real.” Phoebe
was real. She was the realest thing in the world. He looked around, trying to
take stock. He was weak now, but there might come a time when he could try to
get out of here. “Is she here?”

He fought back the urge to dive deep. He had to stay in
control. He had to figure out what had happened. Where was Phoebe? How had he
gotten here?

A small room. There was a door, but he could see it was
sturdy, likely reinforced. He glanced around. One window, but it was barred.
There was nothing in the room at all except a cot, a bucket, and shackles
attached to the far wall. He could only imagine what that was for.

Hani al Fareed looked down at him. Yes, it was the younger
of the two brothers. Now that Jesse was close, he could match the man to his
file. He focused on the man, really seeing him for the first time he could
remember. The Caliph was in his forties, with a handsome face and cold eyes.
He’d taken off his white robe and was dressed more casually in loose white
cotton pants and a tunic. “Would you be frightened if she was here?”

Sometimes honesty was best with the Caliph. He tended to see
through the lies, and there was punishment until he got the answer he wanted.
Jesse nodded. “Yes.”

There was no way to hide the fact that he loved Phoebe. The
last thing he remembered he’d been in bed with her, so they’d either killed her
or left her behind.

If Phoebe was dead, he would let that beast out. It wouldn’t
matter anymore. Nothing would matter if Phoebe was gone because she was the
one. Kai had said something about his love saving him, but it was his love for
Phoebe and only Phoebe. If she was gone, he wasn’t sure what would happen, but
it would be nasty and bloody and wouldn’t end well.

“You like the female? Perhaps that’s a good place to start.
You know I have no formal training in psychology, but it’s been an obsession of
mine since childhood. I would watch my father train dogs. People are like dogs,
though they often require more pain to learn a lesson. You know if you properly
train a dog, you can give them as much pain as they can take and they will
still defend you.”

“Like Ace.”

“Yes, much like your brother.” The Caliph stared at him for
a moment. “You’re an interesting subject. I wasn’t able to modify your behavior
before. I believe I simply didn’t have enough time, though some of my
colleagues claim you’re simply too stupid to change. Maybe I didn’t have the
proper motivation. If I bring out your female sexual partner, would that
change? Would you do my bidding if it meant she was safe from pain? From rape?
Rape is always a good way to control a female, but oftentimes it can only be
used once to control a male partner. At least in my world, that’s true. Women
lose their value when they’re tarnished. How many times could I fuck her before
you would see her as a whore?”

That was an easy answer. “I don’t know a number big enough.”

He chuckled. “I don’t understand Western men. You don’t see
the true and only value of a woman. You marry non-virgins and then expect them
to be faithful. You’re all fools. And no, I do not have her. She was not in bed
with you when we took you, so she escaped, though now I think that was a
mistake on my part. Do you think she was cheating on you? It’s what women of
your culture do.”

Jesse didn’t give a flying fuck what that asshole thought
about his culture. He valued Phoebe for more than her sex, more than his
singular possession of her body. He loved her soul and the Caliph couldn’t
touch that, so no matter what happened to her, he would still love her, still
want her.

And she would want him.

The truth settled over him. The Caliph could do his worst.
He could beat him, batter him, get him hooked on drugs again, but as long as he
held on to his soul, Phoebe would love him. Phoebe would stay with him. She
would be there when he came out of this.

The deep need to regress, to give over to the darkness,
faded. It always seemed to be there, something he had to fight back, but now
that place was filled with something else. Her. He didn’t need the darkness if
he had her.

She was alive. The Caliph rarely lied. His truths tended to
be the things of nightmares, and he’d once told Jesse that the master didn’t
bother to lie to his dog. Phoebe was alive and that meant Ten would protect
her.

And Simon would look for him. His partner would do everything
in his power to find him. That Brit wouldn’t stop. The only question was could
he keep Phoebe from getting in trouble because Jesse doubted she would stop
either.

“No. She wasn’t cheating on me.” She’d likely gotten up to
talk to her brother, to explain why she wasn’t going back to DC.

He needed to give them time. He wasn’t sure how much time
had passed, but they were likely still in the UAE. Simon would have his best
shot if he could find Jesse before they took him to Saudi or some other country.
Jesse had to find a way to give his partner that time.

The Caliph liked to talk. The Caliph didn’t bother to lie.
Why not buy a little time with some conversation? He had a few questions for
the man.

“Why bother with me? Why come and get me at all? Was it
about concealing your identity? You know I can talk all I like. No one will
believe me.” He had a unique opportunity for information gathering.

“Why did you fake your own death? What was the purpose of
that?”

“I thought you would send someone else after me. And I
thought you might avoid the conference if you knew I would be there. If I was
dead, I couldn’t be there. That is why you sent Ace to kill me, right?”

His lips curled up slightly. “I didn’t want to kill you. I’m
sure that surprises you, but the choice to kill you was not my own, but my
business partner’s. When I learned that you would be here in Dubai, I was
excited again. It’s been years since I had such a challenge. No. I didn’t want
to kill you. I wanted to collect what was mine and finish the job. However, I
agreed to send your brother after you to appease my partner.”

His brother. God, al Fareed didn’t even understand the
meaning of the word. “Your business partner was afraid I would recognize you?”

One shoulder shrugged as though it was not of great matter
to him. “Again, I didn’t believe it would truly harm me, but apparently you
have some powerful friends now. Don’t worry. My partner is busy discrediting
them. Once their reputations are in threads, no one will listen anymore.”

“You’re behind the Agency recalling Ten.”

“No. I have nothing to do with the CIA. I find them to be
distasteful. I leave that to my partner. Note, I do not call him my friend. He
is distasteful as well, but compromises must be made. Once I have all I need,
I’ll cut ties with him in the most profound way possible. I will enjoy it. Now,
soon we will be traveling. I think it’s time for you to come to my home. I can
take my time there, properly assist you in understanding your true place in the
world.”

His place was with Phoebe and his family. Again, the need
rose to fight, to argue, to scream. None of that would help him. That kind of
rage was for men with nothing to hope for. For men with no faith.

Faith was what he lacked the first time. He could see it
now. He’d been an animal fighting for his life purely out of instinct. Now his
fight was defined and deeply emotional. His fight was to survive to get home to
her.

His faith versus the Caliph’s.

He bowed his head. “I would love to hear what you say,
Caliph.”

His eyes narrowed. “Really? Is this a new tactic? Your prior
tactics were always so physical.”

“That didn’t work. Nothing really worked. I’ve been back in
the real world for a while now. They don’t see any value in what I have to
offer. You read the papers I’m sure. Even my new boss only sees me as a body to
put in front of the employees he does care about.” The Caliph might not care to
lie, but Jesse had discovered a little lie could go a long way. “I cared about
the girl. I did, but she’s Agency. She’ll leave me behind in a heartbeat.
You’re the only one who ever gave a damn about what happened to me.”

There was a moment of silence, a tension Jesse could feel
despite the languor of the drugs still weighing him down.

“I will think on this,” the Caliph said. He stood abruptly.
“In the meantime, I believe you should be punished for killing your brother.
Was it you who pulled the trigger?”

“He was trying to kill me at the time.”

“It matters not. It merely shows me that you forget who your
master is. I decide if you live or die. I am your god. Let this be a reminder.”

The door opened and Jesse watched as two of the Caliph’s
guards entered, one carrying a four-foot bullwhip. Jesse was fairly certain the
asswipe wasn’t as good with it as he’d become. He could wield that whip with delicacy,
never opening up a sub’s skin. That wouldn’t be the case today because that
whip was like anything else—a tool. Jesse would use it for pleasure and this
man would torment him with pain.