A Thousand Kisses Deep (8 page)

Nemo swore he had seen the monk's likeness, too. He claimed it was truly the ghost of Father Talamoss in prayer at the window asking the Almighty for absolution for his cardinal sin.

Eva tied her hair back from her face, then slipped into a BC vest. Strapping on a diving mask and snorkel, she flipped backward out of the boat like a water nymph, eager to return to the sea. Her first dive was exhilarating, the second rekindling her love for the underworld and the amazing marine life that lived in their own private world.

She would sun herself on a rock and work on the tan lines soon, but first she would take a quick look around.

It was while Eva was enjoying the curious fish and the coral formations along the entrance into a narrow sump that she saw the light, then
him.
It was such a surprise that for several seconds she didn't move.

When she realized that he was swimming toward her, she quickly turned and began to swim back to the boat. She wanted to speak to him, but suddenly she was afraid. She kicked hard, hoping to surface before he caught up to her, but her attempt fell short a few feet from the surface.

A hand gripped her ankle and gave it a hard jerk. Eva tried to shake him off, but it was no use. His grip was as solid as an iron shackle. He gave her leg another jerk, then let go. Suddenly he was beside her, his arm sliding around her waist, carrying her along with him.

She expected him to surface then since he had no tank, only a vest and mask like her. But instead he headed back down into the depths, kicking his powerful legs and moving so swiftly along that he appeared to be more fish than human.

Her lungs started to burn as her air supply began to wane. When she saw that they were heading into a sump she renewed her efforts to free herself. Whether he understood why she started to fight anew or not, he swam faster—if that was possible—swiftly taking her through the passageway.

He let go of her a minute later and once she was free, Eva kicked hard to reach the surface, desperate for air. When she surfaced, she pulled up her mask and concentrated on breathing deeply through her nose to fill her lungs. Feeling marginally better, she took inventory of her surroundings.

The sea cavern was familiar—she had explored it with Nemo. She should have felt relief with the knowledge, but she didn't.

This particular cave had only one exit. No wonder he'd let her go so easily. She was trapped.

Sly surfaced ten feet from Eva. He treaded water while she pulled herself onto an outcropping. The cave was small, no more than a twelve-foot hole inside a giant rock formation.

Mykonos
was full of caverns for tourists to explore. He had familiarized himself with them as well as the main island since he had arrived, waiting for the appropriate time to meet with Eva alone.

In the past two days he'd explored the island extensively, except Lesvago—that is until this morning when he'd rappelled the rock wall and dropped behind the guarded perimeter without being spotted.

Simon's estate was ten minutes from Mykonos city, and the estate was secured by nine guards which had made his job a little more difficult, but not impossible.

He would have spoken to Eva that morning when he'd slipped into her room, but once inside the house he'd located a number of sophisticated security alarms, and he had changed his mind. It occurred to him if the house was full of surveillance devices, there might also be hidden microphones as well.

Sly took his time leaving the water and taking a seat on the rock not far from where Eva had exited the water. He removed his goggles, and as he made himself comfortable he watched her fit her back against a solid rock wall.

His eyes traveled the length of her body, the sight of her returning his thoughts to the maze. Revisiting that night in the boxwood wasn't smart. He realized he enjoyed looking at her too much, and why not? She was a beautiful distraction, but that was the point. She was a distraction he didn't need or want. Still, he mentally measured the length of her legs, sized her tempting breasts, and envisioned his hands on her narrow waist, his fingers stroking the rise of her ass.

She raised her chin, and then her husky voice filled the cave. "What the hell were you trying to do down there, drown me?"

"If I wanted you dead you would be."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"It should."

"My lungs hurt like hell. Did you bring the file?"

Sly rested his arms on his knees and leaned forward. He wore black water pants, a BC vest and nothing else; his usual underwater attire.

Comfortable with his form-fitting second skin below the waist, he said, "It's not that simple."

"It's simple to me. You get access to the database at Onyxx's headquarters and you copy the file. If
Merrick
thinks I'm going to lead you to the Chameleon without the file, he's been watching too many James Bond movies. This is the real deal. You get only if you give. In this case, that would be the file." She angled her head. Studied him a minute. "Which one are you?"

Sly arched his black eyebrows. "Which one?"

"Are you Bjorn or Pierce? Or maybe Sully? No, you don't look like a Sully. And Bjorn was blond. I think the one they called Jacy had black hair. Are you him?"

She took another few seconds to study him further. Suddenly she raised her chin a little higher, made a face. "You're him, aren't you? You're that badass ex-con. You're Sly McEwen."

It was true he'd spent a healthy stretch behind bars before becoming an Onyxx agent. Living with LeRoy, his psychotic criminal stepfather, it was bound to happen. He supposed LeRoy was responsible for the ornery attitude that had kept him alive on the streets, then later in prison. The same attitude that had landed him a spot in the lineup as one of
Merrick
's rat fighters.

The position suited him. By the time Sly was ten, LeRoy had taught him how to swear in three languages, piss on the run and pick a door lock in two minutes flat. Hot-wiring cars came easy, and driving them at breakneck speeds had earned him the honorary position as LeRoy's getaway driver as early as age thirteen.

LeRoy's other specialty besides being a professional criminal had been being an abusive son of a bitch. Which had taught Sly how to dodge and duck with lightning speed. Only his mother hadn't learned that maneuver and one night LeRoy's fists had found her vulnerable. That's the reason Sly had been sent to prison at age sixteen—he'd drilled his stepfather between the eyes with a .38 after LeRoy had beaten his mother unconscious.

He'd been convicted of murder. Had beaten Life, and gotten twelve years in a maximum security prison. If he had it to do all over again, he wouldn't do anything any different. After all, he'd learned that being a badass was better than being dead.

The way she was looking at him, Sly wondered just how much dirt she knew. Obviously enough. She had wrapped her arms around herself, and if he wasn't mistaken, she had tucked herself a little tighter against the rock wall.

If she knew he was an ex-con, and worked for Onyxx, the question was, how had she gotten the information? None of that was public knowledge.

"Simon takes a lot of medication for his allergies. It makes him sleepy," she said, as if she'd read his mind. "I discovered the password for his computer one morning a few months ago. I had been working on breaking the code for over a year. I must have tried every word combination twice. All but the right one, of course. I should have realized it would be something too simple to take seriously."

"What was it?"

"My name."

"Eva Parish, or Creon?"

"Creon. When I found the file labeled Onyxx it was like a flash of lightning opened up my memory. You see when I was young I was trapped in a house fire. While trying to escape, I fell down a flight of stairs. I must have been knocked out for a while, because some of my memory is foggy about that night. Over the past two years, however, things have been coming back to me. Seeing the word Onyxx on the computer file triggered some things."

"Like what?"

"I'll keep them to myself for now. All except Adolf Merrick and the strawberry suckers."

"What's important about that?"

"Adolf Merrick used to bring me strawberry suckers when he came to visit my father."

Testing her, Sly asked, "How long ago was that?"

"I think it started when I was seven."

"Did your father work with
Merrick
at Onyxx?"

"Yes."

Sly was determined to keep her talking. "So Simon Parish has a file on Onyxx. Why?"

"I don't know. But it's quite impressive. It details Onyxx's most successful missions, and its most embarrassing failures. And it lists the agents alphabetically, with a profile on each. No pictures."

"Explain the other night in the maze."

"What do you want to know? How to get a ticket to an upcoming performance? Or do you want to audition for a part so you can play, too?"

There it was again. She either had a bizarre sense of humor, or she was touched in the head. On the tapes he'd noticed that she'd answered a number of Dr. Fielding's questions with some eccentric logic. It was either part of her game, or she was as loony as Parish.

She didn't look loony. She looked intelligent and beautiful. Too beautiful for everything on her body to be real.

"Did you volunteer for this job, or did
Merrick
pick you hoping to scare the pants off me?"

Her words sent Sly's gaze on another slow appraisal of her too beautiful body. The little brown bikini bottoms barely covered her gender.

He rubbed his jaw. "As you said, I'm the ex-con. I'm the scary one."

"You can go back and tell
Merrick
if he thinks sending me his badass is going to frighten me, he's mistaken."

"If that's the case, why don't you come on over here and have a seat." Sly patted the rock next to him, knowing he was expecting a lot.

She was definitely scared of him. Her breathing was still erratic and her pretty green eyes had been checking him out since he'd pulled himself out of the water.

The question of the hour was, how unlucky could she get? Of all the men working for
Merrick
, how could she have gotten stuck with Sly McEwen? This man had sent chills down her spine just reading his profile on Simon's computer.

Granted, none of the men who worked for Onyxx at present had shining résumés, but this man was definitely the black sheep of the outfit. And all male—every hump, bump and lump accounted for.

His chest was corded, his torso densely muscled, and his legs looked like they could run a three-minute mile. He also carried a nasty-looking knife strapped to his bulky thigh.

It was obvious he'd been sent to intimidate her. Was she suppose to shake and tremble, then give in to whatever he asked for? If that's what they were expecting, they were going to be disappointed. She'd survived Simon's worst and she would survive Sly McEwen's worst, too.

Eva held his gaze. He was built with a machinelike efficient body that he balanced with a quietness that was almost spooky. It was obvious that his survival record hadn't involved luck. Not in prison, or as an Onyxx agent.

Simon's file on the man listed him as impossibly tough, and dangerously efficient. The words
rebel-ready
came to mind.

Determined to hold her ground against the baddest of the bad, she forced herself to move away from the rock. She stripped off her mask and shook out her wet hair, aware that he still continued to dissect her.

Her bikini was one of her skimpiest, but she'd worn it with the intention of getting rid of tan lines. In fact at one point she'd been planning to strip it off completely.

"Okay, McEwen. In good faith I'll give you a brief history lesson. It'll prove I'm not blowing smoke, and convince you that handing over the file will be worth it. That is if you want back on the scent of the Chameleon."

"I'm all ears."

Eva glanced at his attractive ears. No, he wasn't all ears. They were flat to his head, and suited him and his haircut.