Surrender (The Command Series Book 3) (15 page)

“Who was that you called? Shawn?”

“No, and don’t say that name again.”

She glanced over at him, even though she wanted to pretend he didn’t exist. He looked lost in thought, his shoulders heavy. Even weary, he still appeared outwardly threatening. Attractive. He should be pissed with her. So why did worry etch his face when his attention fell on her?

“Let’s talk about some scenarios for when we land.” His tone was business-like, and she was grateful to focus on that.

It was both comforting and terrifying to hear the Ciampino flight tower as they neared the airport. She was anxious about landing for the first time in a while, but it had nothing to do with the plane. Gio’s need for her was about to come to an end. Would Ethan hold up his end of the bargain when she didn’t hers?

After they’d touched down and the tires rolled toward the hangar, Ethan turned to her. “Olivia,” he said on a whisper, “it’s going to be okay. Trust me.”

She’d already proven that she didn’t. His expression was intoxicating. Disarming. She felt her head nodding when her brain had yet to approve. He got out of his seat and used his large body to block the doorway into the cockpit while she slowed her jet to a stop and engaged the brake.

Her eyes burned with exhaustion and every bone in her body begged for sleep, but she continued to fight against it. These could be the final minutes of her life. She climbed out of the seat, forcing herself to get on with it. Her gaze fell onto the side compartment.

The metal latch popped open under her hurried hands, and she reached in, retrieving her logbook.

Ethan’s voice was soft. “What are you doing?”

She stood, kicked the compartment closed, and shoved the small journal out to him. “I’m old-school. I log every flight.” He stared down at the book, skeptical, until she added, “I made detailed notes.”

He took the book quickly and it disappeared behind him, shoved into the waistband of his pants and hidden beneath his shirt.

Footsteps pounded up the aisle. Gio was furious, at least, she assumed so. His high-pitched voice grated on her ears. She couldn’t see around the hulking American who had to bend his neck to the side so he could fit in her cockpit when standing. But whatever Ethan was saying had a calming effect on Gio, and after a tense minute, Ethan must have convinced Gio to do something other than kill her. Gio worked the cabin door latch.

“Let’s go,” Ethan said. “Stay behind me.”

In case Gio wants to be unpredictable again
, she thought warily. She’d assumed Gio had gotten off the plane first, but instead he remained in the aisle, leering at her with a sick, evil malice. She was hyper-aware of every subtle move of his hands, waiting for him to go for his gun. But he didn’t. The wide door was open and the fresh air of freedom seeped in, beckoning.

Gio flung a set of keys at Ethan and then turned his attention to his cell phone, waving for them to go out onto the runway.

It was sometime after five in the morning, and the horizon had begun to lighten with the impending sunrise. There wasn’t anyone waiting for them at the base of the stairs as Gio had ordered. This way, Ethan could unload the bodies.

“Do I run?” she whispered when they were clear of the plane. It couldn’t be this easy, could it?

“No, we stay together.” His cold hand clasped her wrist, preventing her from going too far. “You’re going to help me load the bodies into the car.”

“What?”
It was hard to keep up with his long strides as he moved fast toward a sleek sedan parked to the side of the hangar, practically dragging her. How on earth was she going to do that? The headlights on the car flashed once when Ethan unlocked it and pulled her to the passenger side, her feet clumsy with exhaustion and trepidation. “How did you get Gio to stay on the plane?”

He yanked open the door and hurried her in, and didn’t answer until he’d darted around the car to get behind the wheel. He reached beneath the seat and pushed it back as far as it would go, but his knees were still buried in the dash. “I told him to stay on the plane, so if anyone saw us he could claim ignorance.”

It took all of thirty seconds for him to pull the car up to the rear of her jet, and her heart bottomed out. She only wanted to remember her crew alive, to not have this horrible final memory. Ethan’s direct and efficient attitude about this act should have bothered her, but she found it oddly distracting and clinical. Like a doctor hurrying efficiently through an unpleasant but necessary procedure.

“Try not to think about it,” he said on a low voice, hoisting the attendant’s body over his shoulder. The trunk of the car lifted when he pressed a button.

Ethan placed the body in the trunk, and transferred Renzo next. His slow, methodical movements showed he was trying to treat the dead with respect. He didn’t need her help until it was time to move her copilot, who weighed considerably more than the other two.

“Can you open the back door?” he asked quietly.

She did. Her stomach turned as she grabbed her copilot’s arms to help slide the body in so it was lying on the seat. Maybe feelings of horror would come soon, but she was numb right now.

“No,” he said when she tried to close the door. He set a dark gaze on her, one that made her breath catch. And when he pulled out a knife and took a step toward her, that made her heart stop. She knew what was coming next.

-12-

Ethan never had a hard time doing what needed to be done. He was well trained in recognizing the bigger picture and it had gotten him through the worst of Croatia. But now, there was hesitation in his hands. Worry pooled in her eyes and echoed what he felt.

“It’s okay,” he lied in his most soothing voice. “We’re almost done, but I need you to come here.” He extended a hand, gently asking her. He knew she wanted to run, but she couldn’t. Gio would be able to see them out the cabin windows unless she moved closer.

Her eyes were fixed on his knife. “I will, I just need a minute.”

He didn’t get nervous, but this woman obliterated everything he was used to. He backed off and the distance between them helped draw her toward the plane. Another step, and he was sure she’d be out of view. “Are you right or left handed? I’ve seen you use both.”

“I use my right mostly.” She’d stopped moving.

They’d stalled long enough. Time to get on with it. They were probably safe, and he couldn’t miss this tiny window or they’d be completely fucked. He lurched forward, seizing her left wrist before turning her palm up to the sky.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. The blade dug into the heel of her palm and sliced a line all the way to the base of her fingers. He did it as fast as possible so she wouldn’t jerk and make him cut any deeper than he had to. Thick, red blood sprang from the angry wound.

It wasn’t a scream, just a loud gasp of pain and shock, and she reared back from him. He used her surprise to gently push her shoulders down and back, so she fell into the backseat, her head narrowly missing the frame of the roof. Lines of red flowed down through her fingers and dripped onto her lap as she sat on her dead copilot’s legs. Her hand was weeping blood, and Ethan pressed it to her stomach.

“Hold it here, tight,” he commanded. “This is where I shot you.”

She looked too stunned to speak. He closed the knife and switched it to his left so he could draw his weapon. Cold metal felt familiar in his hand, but the guilt over the pain he’d caused her did not.

She flinched at the gunshot when he fired at the pavement, the starting pistol for his deception of Gio. He pushed her back, forcing her to lie on top of the other bloody body, disregarding her accusing look that might render him immobile.

“Close your eyes,” he urged. “No matter what happens, you don’t open them until you hear me speaking English. I just killed you, so look dead, or we’ll both be.” That was a lie. Gio would never be smart enough to get the drop on Ethan.

Rapid footsteps pounded down the jet stairs, and he spied Gio dashing toward the car. “What—”

“She tried to escape.” Ethan let the comment roll off his tongue easily.

The information stopped Gio cold. “You killed her?”

“She was too much of a risk.”

Displeasure smeared on the bastard’s face. “What the hell? If you couldn’t have her, no one could?” He moved closer, rounding the car and peering into the open door, eying Olivia’s bloody hands clasped to the nonexistent hole in her stomach. She did her part, not moving, barely breathing. Gio exhaled with disappointment. “I was going to have fun with her. What a waste.”

Ethan still had the SIG in his right and the knife in his left, and for a moment he wasn’t sure which one he wanted to use on Gio more. Instead, he slammed the door shut. “I should go, someone might have heard the shot.”

He went to the open hold and yanked suitcases out, knowing he’d have to leave Olivia’s and the crew’s behind. There wasn’t any room left in Gio’s tiny car, and what use would the dead have for their luggage? He tossed his suitcase in the passenger seat. Near the hangar, a dark car prowled forward and flashed its running lights once, signaling Gio’s ride had arrived.

“I’ll handle the rest of the luggage. Ring me when it’s done.” Gio was speaking of the disposal of the bodies, and then he was off, dragging his suitcase toward the car.

Getting out of the private airfield with a car full of bodies wasn’t a problem. The security guard took one look at Gio’s plates and waved Ethan through the checkpoint. There had been no immigration officials, and no one following the car as he headed away from downtown, racing against the sunrise.

“Stay down,” he said. “Are you all right?”

She didn’t say anything.

His guilt mixed with anger. “Answer me.”

“I’ll live.” The voice was bitter, but he was grateful for it. And that was the whole point, right? That she made it out alive?

Grapevines clung to trellises that zigzagged across the hilly, lush landscape. The meet-up was ten minutes away. There was a vineyard away from the main road, and he crawled the car up the windy path, pulling in behind the main house so he was out of sight.

His friend Rance waited there, leaning up against the front end of a car that looked nondescript. But it was sure to contain a beast of an engine beneath the hood, or “bonnet” as the Englishman called it. Ethan left the car running, flung his door open, and didn’t bother to greet Rance. Instead, his feet carried him to the back door.

“Hey.” Ethan spoke softly when he had the door open. “Is your hand still bleeding?”

She had it wrapped in the scarf she’d been wearing around her neck. She sat up, her desire to get out of the car clear on her face. It had to be awkward getting out with only one hand, and she was trying not to disturb the body. He took her arm to help.

“No.” Her words were ice as she climbed out. “I’ve got it.”

“I thought you said you had the pilot,” Rance interrupted.

The discussion of what was going to happen after landing never made it this far, so she didn’t know someone else was around. When she took in the Englishman’s broad shoulders and intimidating expression, she slipped behind Ethan, letting him shield her. Her instincts were correct. To most, Rance was viewed as a threat, but not in this situation. He was there to help.

Ethan felt shot to hell. “
She’s
the pilot.”

Rance pulled his shoulders back, and Ethan could only imagine that was what he’d looked like when he’d assumed she was the cabin attendant. Actually, he’d thought she was little more than an in-flight hooker and not the woman she really was.

She’d been through hell.

And still, she held herself together. Her back straightened to her full height as she stood on the gravel road, glaring at Rance, but saying nothing. She’d clearly missed her calling; she would have been an impressive operative.

“Oh,” Rance said. “Sorry.” The embarrassed expression drained away when focus switched to Ethan. “How many bodies?”

“Two from the crew, and Renzo Librizzi.”

“Librizzi’s dead?” Rance wasn’t easy to surprise, but this did it. “How?”

“Giovanni Abramo.”

“Bollocks. First Constantine and now Librizzi. Who do we suspect took out Constantine?”

“I don’t know.” Ethan ignored Olivia’s stare. His head ached. “We’ve been up a long time and need someplace to crash.”

Rance gave him keys and directions to the hotel room the agent had procured.

“What’s going to happen to my crew?” she asked when Ethan opened the passenger door of Rance’s car, gesturing to get in.

“They’ll be held somewhere safe.”

For the first time, she looked beaten as she watched Rance climb into the driver’s seat of Gio’s car. She was rapidly reaching her breaking point, so Ethan muttered, “Thanks,” to Rance and hustled to get them going.

Her lack of movement was concerning. He knew he shouldn’t speed because it might attract attention, but he did it anyway. The sunlight crept over the ridge in the distance and now he could see the dried crust of blood on her black uniform. Her blood that he’d spilled.

“I’m sorry about your hand,” he said.

She turned away to look out the window. “It had to be done.”