Surrender (The Command Series Book 3) (17 page)

The call ended immediately, but she remained still, the phone pressed to her ear. What had just happened? She’d been so angry at him for leaving her, and yet she was relieved to know she’d see him again.

When she went to pass the phone back, Rance shook his head. “It’s yours. His number’s programmed.”

There was only one number in the contacts list, and she felt both weightless and heavy when she read the name:
Unfinished, Business
. Her face warmed.

The drive to the airport seemed shorter from this backseat. Again, Olivia had to keep her head down, since she was supposed to be dead.

There was a Gulfstream IV outside the hangar, only a few years old and in excellent condition. Nicer, faster, slicker than Vitale’s Bombardier. They didn’t linger in the car. Rance hurried her up the metal stairs and into the safety of the cabin.

The interior of the plane was nicer than the Bombardier, too. Captain chairs in white leather and rich mahogany panels that wrapped around the galley and obscured the attendant from passenger view. A large desk sat mid-plane, and in the rear there was a sliding couch for when passengers wanted to sleep. Olivia would love to get a look at the cockpit and talk shop with the pilots, but she didn’t want to bother them. This wasn’t her plane; it was theirs. Not to mention, she needed some damn answers from the Englishman.

A pretty, young woman in a uniform came out of the attendant station and smiled.
“Guten Tag
.”

“We’ll use English if you don’t mind, Victoria,” Rance said, his blue-eyed gaze wandering toward Olivia. “Unless you speak German?”

“No.”

His focus returned to Victoria. “Can you serve lunch before we depart?”

The cabin attendant nodded and swished away in her pencil skirt.

“Explain,” Olivia said, “what you meant about Ethan’s actions speaking volumes.”

Rance took a seat and pointed to one for her. “This is rather out of character for him. Quite shocking, really.”

The annoyance swelled in Olivia, hot and thick. “Out with it already.”

“Risking his cover that took six months to build, to get you out? Brilliantly stupid. And now, tucking you away in Munich when you should be on the first flight back home to America.” His blue eyes filled with more mischief. “You’ve heard my theory about his motive.”

Her gaze fell to the phone clutched in her hand, the contact name repeated in her head. She didn’t want to admit to herself that excitement had flashed through her. She looked away from the phone, and there was a logo on one of the TV screens that caught her eye.
Osterhägen Beverage
.

Oh, God.
That’s why the name was familiar. The press coverage of the CEO of Osterhägen had waned to almost nothing in the past few months, but it had been big news when the story first broke. The brewery bombing. The American hostage.
This
was Rance and Ethan’s mutual friend?

“How do you know Shawn Dunn?” she asked.

“I was part of the team that rescued his fiancée.”

Holy shit. “Was Ethan on the team, too? Is that how you two met?”

“He was the one who got Kara out of the house, but no, that’s not how we met.” Rance’s head tilted with an evaluating look. “Tell me, what happened between the two of you in South Africa?”

She pressed her lips together, not sure if she should answer.

“How about an exchange of information?” he suggested. “I have the sense we’re both rather curious about the other.”

Red flags went up. She wasn’t nearly as interested in the Englishman as she was in Ethan. Her face must have hinted at her reluctance because Rance leaned forward.

“We each answer only what we feel comfortable revealing.”

“All right,” she replied. “Who do you work for?”

He gave her a smug look, his eyes shining. She’d reached too far and he wasn’t going to answer.

“Do you work for criminals like he does?” she continued.

“No.” He leaned back in his chair and glanced out the portside window. “How did you get him to tell you his real name?”

She wasn’t one to get shy or embarrassed about sex. She tried to live with no regrets when it came to that aspect of her life. But Ethan was guarded, and she felt compelled to leave it on the down-low. “It wasn’t easy. I had to torture it out of him,” she said in a humorless joke.

Rance’s face turned to stone. “Who do
you
work for?”

“No one now.” It came out fast and honest, because Rance’s face had taken on a scary cast. “Before the Abramos, I flew a regional route in Spain.”

He blinked and the visible concern faded a touch. “You were having a laugh.”

“About torturing him? Well, yeah.” This reaction told her both Ethan and Rance encountered torture in their line of work, the same work that had him undercover. The man sitting across from her . . . was he a spy? “Who do you work for?” she asked again. “MI-6?”

The mischievous look in his eyes was replaced with one she couldn’t put a label on. “Who told you I’m British?” His accent vanished and the voice of a Midwesterner emerged. “Maybe I’m only talking like that to mess with a woman who’s gotten too close to my friend.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “What are you? CIA?”

A small, tight laugh escaped him. “No, love. Definitely not.” It was like he had a switch for the accent, and he’d just reactivated it. “Where, pray tell, did such a big man stay in that tiny room with you this morning? Did he sleep in the bathtub?”

“If you’re asking if we slept together, the answer is yes.” But before Rance’s eyes could grow too big, she continued, “With our clothes on, facing away from each other.”

The grin he gave her was frustrating, and said he didn’t believe her lie. “Well, unfinished business, indeed.”

Olivia hated flying as a passenger. She needed to have the yoke in her hands and the control that went with it. The flight to Munich wouldn’t be more than ninety minutes, but she worried she was going to spend every minute of it annoyed, all because of the man across from her.

“This exchange of information is getting me nowhere,” she spat at him. “I only have more questions.”

“Pity for you, as you’ve answered most of mine.” After a long moment, his amusement drained and turned serious. “Don’t know much about him, really, love, and even less I’m sure I’m allowed to tell you.”

“But you can tell me about yourself. Are you some sort of spook? Do you work for a government or—?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t, and before you ask, I don’t work for Osterhägen, either. You’ll have to trust me when I tell you that I work for the good guys.”

“And Ethan? Does he work for the good guys, too?”

His eyes studied her, and it hinted that the trust between the two men only extended so far. “I have to believe so, yes.”

-14-

Ethan stood in the crappy apartment the CIA had leased for his cover, after hanging up with Olivia, but the odd tension lingered. He trusted Rance, but he still didn’t like her out of his sight. Crawling out of that bed with her had been difficult.

“Is it finished?” Gio snapped into the phone when Ethan finally called.

“They’re secure, but I’ll need more time to get it done completely.” Making bodies disappear wasn’t normally an easy task, and he hoped Gio wouldn’t press for details.

“How much time?” Gio sounded annoyed.

“A day.”

“Fine. But my father wants to speak with you first. Where are you?”

Twenty minutes later, Ethan ducked into the large backseat of Vitale’s limo and the car was in motion instantly. Vitale Abramo was an elegant man with sharp eyes and a cruel mouth. He was in his late fifties, but didn’t look it. He seemed like he took care of himself. A calculating and exacting man.

Gio, however, looked like an exhausted, strung-out mess. He sat on the seat beneath the dividing wall, his eyes shifting hesitantly from Ethan, to his father, and back again. There were no introductions. Vitale’s discerning gaze scanned Ethan once before he spoke. “Can you tell me what happened to Renzo Librizzi?”

Gio fidgeted. He hadn’t had time to work out his story with Ethan, and it appeared Gio had been under his father’s watchful eye ever since arriving.

“Giovanni killed him,” Ethan said, savoring the sharp intake of breath from the younger Abramo. “But he didn’t have a choice.”

“Why do you say this?” Vitale’s expression hardened as his gaze settled on his son. Gio’s stare was set on Ethan, and filled with murder.

“Renzo fought with your son the entire flight to Dakar. It escalated, and guns were involved. Giovanni didn’t have another option.” Chances were, Vitale would believe this lie. He knew his son and Renzo hated each other, and that they were both impulsive. However, Vitale would want there to be justification over losing his assistant.

“Who drew their gun first?” he asked.

Gio and Ethan answered at the same time. “Renzo.”

Vitale’s piercing eyes didn’t faze Ethan, but they sure as hell scared his son. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I was worried,” Gio said. “I thought you might not believe me.”

Vitale pressed his fingertips together. “My staff?”

“Unfortunately,” Ethan said, “they witnessed it. They won’t be talking about it, and don’t worry about where they are.”

The sneer on Vitale’s face was ugly and threatening. “A man like me is smart to keep worries.”

“I understand. As I’m sure you understand why I need to keep some worries as well.” In case Gio or Vitale got any bright ideas about eliminating him.

The sneer faded from Vitale’s expression and was replaced with something that looked like disappointment. “Did it bother you? Cleaning up after my son’s . . . lapse in judgment?” The pointed question was not lost on Gio, who stared at the floor like the carpet was goddamn fascinating.

“No,” Ethan said. “I should have taken Renzo’s gun before he threatened Gio.” And if he’d taken Gio’s gun, Olivia’s co-workers would still be alive. Their deaths were his fault, and all because he’d been too busy trying to get her away from the Abramos.

“I cared for Renzo, like one of my own. You must know this,” Vitale said to his son. “Was it quick?”

Gio gave a hurried nod.

“Well, then,” Vitale continued, “he was a fool to pull on you.” The older man straightened the black silk tie around his neck that was tucked into the vest of his gray three-piece suit. His gaze wandered away from them and out the window to the storm clouds that were rolling in overhead. “Renzo will be hard to replace.”

Ethan had proven that he could be trusted, was willing to get his hands dirty, and able to follow orders. The Abramos didn’t handle the nasty stuff—they had their underlings take care of it. In fact, chances were Vitale didn’t carry a gun. He didn’t need to. The most vile and creative orders came from the man controlling the money, and that made him the most dangerous of all.

And South Africa had proven that turning Gio was unlikely to help with the Serbian terrorist cell the CIA was most concerned with. Vitale played a larger game that Gio wasn’t in on. At least Renzo’s murder could work in Ethan’s favor, if he could get Vitale to trust him.

“What about my plane?”

“It happened outside, so only the luggage compartment will need attention,” Ethan said. “Will you need it soon?”

“I’m going to Germany,” Gio said, “to find out who killed my brother.” His gaze shifted back to his father. “Getting close will be a challenge. The video in that town square made them famous, and the younger one used to be a police officer.”

Ethan channeled all of his energy into remaining indifferent, but he broke out into a sweat. Gio didn’t quite have his facts straight. Jason had been a U.S. Marshal before Juric entered the picture, not a cop. The Abramos were talking about getting close to the Dunns. That couldn’t happen. The Dunns had been through hell. And for the second time since meeting Olivia, Ethan considered putting what he wanted above the mission.

“The bullet pulled from Constantine’s body wasn’t traceable, but it also wasn’t Juric’s,” Vitale said. “The Hayward woman knows what happened. Or perhaps the Dunns killed your brother when they went after Juric. Go to Munich and find out.”

Gio’s focus sharpened on Ethan. “Carlo, the man you replaced, doesn’t speak German. Do you?”

His throat was unbearably tight. “Yes.”

A stack of Euros was shoved in Ethan’s hand. “Then, do what you need to with the bodies, and meet me in Munich tomorrow.”