A Thousand Kisses Deep (14 page)

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Authors: Wendy Rosnau

BOOK: A Thousand Kisses Deep
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"Wife? I didn't know he was married."

"Neither did I. Johanna Merrick has been dead fourteen years."

"That's a long time."

"…to be delivering roses," Bjorn finished. He took another cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it. "He talks to her."

"Talks to his dead wife?"

"Ja.
He sits on a bench and talks to her. He spent over two hours with her Saturday."

Sly frowned, not sure what to make of the information. He had always felt that
Merrick
was living with some black monster eating away at his insides. Was this it? "How did she die?"

"This is where it gets sticky and a little gray. It seems someone kidnapped her."

"For ransom?"

"No, not exactly. It was more like someone wanted to play a little game."

The word
game
had Sly raising his eyebrow and sitting a little straighter.

"It came as a riddle sent to him on e-mail. A riddle with pictures of his wife tied up on a bed. She had C4 wrapped around her."

Sly reached out, stole Bjorn's smokes and lit up. "So she was wired to blow. Keep going."

"The e-mail showed her crying and begging
Merrick
to save her. There were two clues sent to solve the riddle as to who had kidnapped her. If
Merrick
managed to type in the correct answer it would cancel the detonation. If not…" Bjorn rubbed his jaw, sucked the life out of his cigarette, then tossed the filter overboard. "I'm sure you know how this story turns out.
Merrick
ran out of time and his wife died while he watched it all on the computer screen."

"God!"

"There's more. The riddle was signed, 'the Chameleon.'"

Sly cut the engine on the boat. Finally, he said, "I need to talk to
Merrick
."

"That makes sense," Bjorn agreed. "There's something else that I want to run by you. Aren't you curious who the messenger was who sent you that information about Eva?"

"You think it was
Merrick
?"

"Yes, I do. After we got back from Castle Rock we were all reassigned. Our tours were up and each of us was offered a new job according to our expertise. All except you.
Merrick
offered you a desk job shuffling papers, which you rejected. Everyone knows you should have been offered a job as a marine cartographer. He knew you were upset about losing Sully, and Jacy almost ending up the same. He knew with a little push you'd be off and running, looking for answers because you're so goddamn loyal and bullheaded."

Sly considered what Bjorn was saying. He picked it apart, ran a number of cross thoughts into the mix. He said, "He wanted me out of Onyxx to do his leg work for him. He's been leading me every step of the way since I walked away. It makes sense."

"You bet your ass it does. He's still at the Agency after fourteen years. Why, because he can't let go. And every time the Chameleon slips through Onyxx's fingers, it reopens the old wound. He wants him and he wants him bad. More now than ever because medically he's a mess."

"Meaning?"

"
Merrick
's got a brain tumor."

"A tumor?"

"Ja.
He needs an operation, but he's been putting it off."

Sly got out of his seat and stared across the water. "He's feeling frustrated. The Chameleon's still on the loose, and he might die before he gets his revenge. Then one day out of the blue Eva calls and says she's Paavo Creon's daughter."

"And
Merrick
believes he's been blessed with a gift from God," Bjorn added.

"She offers him information that he can't ignore and we're off to
Greece
to check out Castle Rock."

Bjorn supplied, "He sent you that envelope of info knowing you'd end up on Eva's tail."

Suddenly Sly was back in the seat turning the engine over and spinning the boat around.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bjorn asked.

"You're going back to D.C."

"I'm what? What for?"

"To tell
Merrick
I want a meeting with him, here. And make sure he brings the file on Paavo
Creon
."

"I just got here, Sly."

Sly ignored the sick look on Bjorn's face. "I could call him. He gave me a private number, but that's what he's expecting and I'm not going to do this his way. He's going to have to play it my way from here on out."

"He gave you a number where you can reach him?"

"I should have picked up on that as suspicious. I admit, I didn't."

"So I show up in his office and tell him what exactly?"

"You don't show up there. You're going to stake out his apartment and kidnap the son of a bitch."

"I am?"

"At gunpoint."

"That should strengthen our relationship."

Sly shrugged. "I wasn't aware you cared a damn about relationships. Aren't you the guy who just told me to use Eva Creon?"

"I hate flying," Bjorn grumbled. "You know I hate flying. It took me ten hours to get here."

"And it'll take another—" Sly calculated the time back and forth, figuring in the kidnapping "—twenty-five hours to get back here. Give or take an hour."

"I can't sleep for shit on an airplane. That means thirty hours without sleep."

"Eat a pill. You'll sleep."

"I took this profiling job to keep my feet on the ground, and normal working hours. I—"

Sly cut him off. "The quicker you get going the quicker you'll get back with
Merrick
. After that you can keep your feet on the ground. I don't think you'll need to force
Merrick
to board a plane, but if he gives you any trouble at that point, tell him I'm so close to the Chameleon that I can smell him. That should bring him here on the run."

Chapter 10

«
^
»

S
imon kept the location of his birthday party a secret until they docked on the
island
of
Santorini
. From the upper deck of the
Ventura
,
Eva surveyed the volcanic city of
Fira
. It was after dark, and the island was lit up as bright as an evening star. The petrified lava varied from fire red to purple, and it gave the city a magical glow.

So this was where Simon's party was going to take place, where her father would join them in a rare appearance that happened only once a year.

She had hoped to have read the file by now. But time had run out. She wasn't sure what to do now. Her options were to do nothing and go back to
Atlanta
with Simon when the time came, or tell her father what she'd been up to this past year and see what kind of a response she got.

She felt like a pawn in a chess set. If she didn't make a move she would never get out of the box. She couldn't imagine living with Simon one more year.

"What are you thinking?"

Simon's arm slipped around her shoulder and Eva willed herself to relax. Last night he had held her while he slept. He had never done that before. There was a reason behind it. She didn't know what, but experience told her she had only to wait to find out.

"I love this island," he said. "It's always been one of my favorites."

He usually didn't like people to look at him, but he suddenly gripped her chin and forced her to meet his red eyes. "I want you to stay here, on board the
Ventura
,
tonight," he said. "I'm going ashore to see how tomorrow evening's party plans are coming along. I'll be back in the morning. You'll join me for breakfast at eight sharp. Be waiting for me … here. Wear the strapless dress, and the white sandals to match. Hair up. No jewelry. Not too much makeup. Red lipstick."

Eva kept her eyes locked with his. "All right. I'll be here in the morning waiting for you wearing white, and looking exactly as you wish."

He suddenly pulled her into his arms. "I don't know how I could have resisted kissing you all these years, but I no longer have the willpower. Germs or not, I'll have your lips on mine, sweet Eva. I'll have them now."

The request was so unexpected that Eva froze. Last night he had held her while he slept, something that had never happened in four years, and now today he was telling her to kiss him. What was going on?

"Eva…"

She came to her senses quickly. Knowing Simon never asked twice for anything she leaned in, angled her head and pressed her mouth to his cold, thin lips. His response was delayed and horribly awkward, as if it had been years since anyone had kissed him, if ever.

He stepped back from her after the flat kiss was over. He smiled, kept the smile with him as he walked away. He even looked back before taking the gangplank to see if she had moved.

She hadn't, she was still trying to make sense out of the changes in Simon that had virtually taken place overnight.

Sly boarded the
Ventura
with the knowledge that at any moment one of the guards patrolling the yacht might spot him and put a bullet through his skull. Slipping past them as stealthily as a pirate, and just as surefooted, he found the stairway that led below deck and disappeared.

The passageway was empty, lit by small clear lights. He moved quickly, his jaw set and his mood black, as black as the drysuit he wore.

Within minutes he located Eva's stateroom and disappeared inside. She wasn't there, but then he knew that. She was up top with Melita.

He removed his diving attire, then ransacked her room waiting for her to show up. When she didn't come after he'd gone through the entire room, he stretched out on her bed. Sucking on his sour mood, he dozed with one eye open and an ear to the door.

At eighteen minutes after
midnight
, she stepped into her stateroom wearing the same lavender skirt and white blouse she'd had on earlier when she'd kissed Parish before he'd left for the evening.

The stateroom was dark, save for a small amount of moonlight that shone through two windows. Sly left the bed, and without making a sound, slipped into the hall that led to the bathroom.

He heard her sigh, watched as she stretched. Her fingers found the zipper at the back of her skirt and she slid it down. The skirt fell from her hips with ease, and she stepped out of it. The buttons on her blouse, she worked at slowly. She walked to a small table and turned on a mood light, offering him a better view of her sweet ass, half-hidden by the bottom edge of her blouse.

She kicked off her sandals as she shed her blouse, leaving her in a white lacy camisole and matching panties. She tossed the blouse on a chair, then suddenly sniffed the air. Slowly she reached for the blouse and clutched it to the front of her as she turned around.

"You should have smelled me sooner," Sly said, stepping out from the shadows. "If I had been out to kill you it would have been over for you minutes ago."

"But we both know that's not what you want from me, is it?"

"Why didn't you call me and tell me you were leaving
Mykonos
?"

"Do you have the file?"

"No."

"Then we don't have any business to discuss, and you need to leave."

Sly tried to stay calm. All day he'd been chasing her in the
Hector,
trying to keep from losing sight of the
Ventura
,
and at the same time trying to stay far enough away so he wouldn't draw attention to himself. If she had left a day earlier when he'd been in
Athens
picking up Bjorn, he would have come back to
Mykonos
to find her gone.

Still pissed about that, that she had almost slipped through his fingers, he started toward her, stalking her until he had backed her up against the bed.

"What game are you playing now?" he asked.

"A game that requires only one player since you have no file for me."

Sly's nostrils flared. Bjorn had said he should use his charisma, but right now all he wanted to do was shake her and scare her into giving him a straight answer.

"I'm not afraid of you. As you said before, if you wanted me dead, I would be. So don't bother thinking you can intimidate me by glaring a hole through me. Do your worst, Sly McEwen, it won't be enough. I visit hell regularly."

He knew what kind of hell she had visited. Knew what had been required to survive. "Why didn't you tell me about the party?"

"What party?"

"Simon's birthday party."

"How do you know about that?"

Sly didn't answer. Instead, he said, "He's coming, isn't he? The Chameleon is coming to the party."

Her green eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

"You're not the only one with secrets, Evy. Should we share?"

She tried to step sideways and move past him, but Sly blocked her. "I was wrong. He does kiss you."

"It's not what you think."

"What do you care what I think?"

"I don't. You had to be close to see that."

"Close enough to know he doesn't do it often. He didn't know what to do with his hands."

Sly moved his arms around her and palmed her ass, showing her he was experienced enough to know what to do with his. Slowly he brought her against him.

"I told you never to touch me again."

"Or kiss you." He lowered his head, and, while she stood there unflinching—unflinching and unresponsive—he kissed her lips in a tender, seductive manner no one would expect from a rat fighter.

A long minute later he released her and stepped back. "You're trying too hard, Evy."

She wiped his kiss from her lips. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Say it. Say it started out as a game on the balcony the other night, but somewhere in between the kissing and the touching, things changed."

She said nothing. Just stood there clutching her shirt to her breasts.

"Okay, have it your way, I'll say it for you. The game we played on the balcony was an excuse for both of us to put our hands and mouths on each other."

She shook her head. "Nice try, Agent McEwen, but you would say anything right now to get me to give you what you want. Even pretend you have feelings for me."

"I already know the Chameleon will be here tomorrow. Bottom line, Evy, I have no reason to be here except one. You."

She gave him a hard shove, then turned and tried to escape by diving across the bed. Sly easily grabbed one of her shapely legs and flipped her onto her back. She fought him for only a minute, then went limp.

"Sly, please don't do anything you'll regret."

He came down on the bed, straddled her body. "No regrets, no remorse. That's the motto at Onyxx. I never look back. Men like me can't afford to."

"Let me up."

"If you're going to scream, I suggest you get to it. That way the guards will be able to save you before this thing between us gets any hotter."

"You want me to scream?"

"No. But if I'm wrong, that's the only way you're going to stop what's going to happen next."

"You would be caught."

"I would be out that window before they got in here. You don't strike me as a coward. Afraid you might like me if you let yourself, Evy?"

"You flatter yourself."

Sly waited another minute, then leaned forward and brushed a lazy kiss across her parted lips. She let out a strangled cry, then closed her eyes.

"Come on," he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth. "What's it going to be?"

"I can't want this … you."

Sly raised himself up to stare down at her. "Then you should have screamed because you're out of time."

She blinked open her eyes, must have heard the resolve in his voice. She shook her head. "No, you're out of time. Nemo, help me! Help! Someone, help!"

"Shit." Sly rolled off her and headed for one of the windows. Shoving it open, he glanced back and found she had shoved herself against the headboard, her long legs drawn up to help cover herself.

"You better go. Simon's men are instructed to shoot first and ask questions later." Then, she tipped her head back and screamed again. "Help, Nemo! He's getting away!"

The door flew open just as Sly dived out the window. When he hit the water, he went deep, kicking hard, gunfire following him all the way. He made a sharp right and swam beneath the
Ventura
,
searching out the rope he'd anchored there earlier. When he found it, he followed the rope knowing it would lead him to the
Hector
three hundred yards away without having to surface.

Four minutes later he climbed aboard the
Hector.
On hearing sirens blaring, he quickly disappeared below deck. The blood on his side told him he'd been shot. It was just a flesh wound along his rib cage, but he was leaking enough to guarantee he would be stiff and sore in the morning. Son of a bitch.

In the bathroom, he cleaned himself up, then used a wide piece of tape to stop the bleeding. That accomplished, he searched out a bottle of whiskey. Thirty minutes later he heard footsteps overhead. When he went up on deck to investigate, he was greeted by two harbor policeman.

Wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, faking a yawn, Sly said, "Is there something I can do for you?"

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