Surrender (The Command Series Book 3) (29 page)

Carlo put metal handcuffs on her at his car. “Giovanni has asked me not to hurt or mark you yet. He wants me to have a blank canvas to start with, but understand something, you bitch. If I have to kill you, I’ll do it and he’ll understand.”

Riding in the passenger section of the Abramos’ Bombardier instead of the cockpit was unnerving. The O
²
masks had been stowed, and she assumed the blood of her friends and Renzo had been hosed out of the luggage compartment. This wasn’t her plane anymore, so she wouldn’t know for sure.

At least she was good at surviving. Surviving, and fending off attacks. She’d cut her teeth on the mountain ten years ago. She could do this, she told herself, over and over, forcing herself to believe.

“I saw you,” Carlo said, “kissing the enormous American. Giovanni wasn’t happy to hear that.”

“I don’t give a fuck about what makes Gio happy.”

Carlo’s smile was evil. “You will.”

She bit back the desire to spit in his face. No, she’d wait on that. Survive.
That is your mission.

-21-

It took ten frustrating minutes of verification with the Dunn security team before Ethan was allowed access to the hospital waiting room. The formidable Gisela Osterhägen, Jason and Shawn’s mother, sat beside Laurel, clasping her daughter-in-law’s hand. With everything that had happened, Ethan was probably the last person she wanted to see, and Laurel’s eyes reflected that for a shadow of a moment.

“How is Jason?” he asked.

“He is in surgery.” Gisela’s English was heavily accented. Her face was an unemotional mask, but her hand worried the string of pearls on her neck and it hinted at the frantic state vibrating below the surface. Her eyes darted to Laurel, who stared down at the linoleum looking defeated. “He might lose some mobility in the arm, but otherwise, they predict a good recovery.”

“Olivia? Shawn and Kara?”

“He went to give blood for Jason.”

“Why did they come after us?” Laurel’s stare drifted to his. She was flushed, and yet she shivered in the blue dress.

“I’m not sure,” he said, hating that he didn’t have an answer for her. He turned to Gisela. “Can you get her a blanket?”

As the head of Osterhägen until Shawn took over, Gisela was probably used to giving orders and not taking them, so Ethan had done everything to make it sound like a request, although it wasn’t. He needed to speak with Laurel alone. Gisela, like her sons, was tall. Even in her mid-sixties, she stood straight and on heels, rising to meet the eyes of most men. He waited until she was halfway to the nurses’ station before he spoke in a hush.

“This will all be over soon, I promise you. No more hiding, no more worrying about your lives being in danger.” After all that Ethan had let Juric do to her . . . “I
owe
you at least that.”

The already subdued activity of the hospital dwindled to nothing. Her vibrant blue eyes had been hazy with emotion, but sharpened their focus on him as her face twisted with confusion. “Ethan . . . I know you did everything you could for me.”

What was she talking about?

“I don’t remember all of it,” she said. “Time bled together, some of it felt like hours when it was probably just minutes, and sometimes I’d close my eyes for a second and it’d suddenly be dark outside.”

“I’m sorry.” The words sprang from him. “I’m so sorry.”

“But I remember you staying close. You warned me about the doctor, you let me into his safe.” She reached out, grabbing his hand, gripping it tightly. “You helped me get off the drugs. Plavko saved my life.” An electrical shock of revulsion flashed through him at hearing that cover’s name. “I would have died, or Juric would have killed me, without you.”

The tight pain he’d had for more than a year in his chest eased a fraction of an inch, so every breath was no longer sharp and debilitating, now just merely painful.

“You tried to warn us about the brewery bombing. You saved Kara. You helped Jason. Like I said, you’ve done everything you can.”

“The man responsible for all this—”

“You’ll get him. I know you will.” Her expression was fierce. “Get him for Jason.”

This was a command he’d follow with pleasure. “Yes, ma’am.”

Gisela unfolded the white blanket she’d received and draped it over Laurel’s shoulders at the same moment her oldest son and Kara appeared from down the hall, Shawn’s shirt sleeves pushed up, a bandage over where he’d had blood drawn. Kara’s hand was clasped in her husband’s, two suits trailing behind them.

“Where’s Olivia?” Ethan demanded.

Laurel stiffened. “She went downstairs with Markus to get something to eat.”

He still wasn’t used to the sudden onset of emotion that Olivia could give him. “She did what?”

“It seemed like hospitals make her uncomfortable.”

Fuck. Of course they did. “How long have they been gone?”

“Uh, a while.” Laurel’s hesitant, quiet voice stormed into his ears. “But Jason said Markus is the best—”

Ethan yanked out his phone and dialed. The line rang.

And rang.

And the tightness returned to his chest, crushing him until she finally answered. “Where are you?” he demanded.

“I’m heading to Rome, Nathan.” Her voice echoed on the speaker, and he could hear the rumble of an engine in the background. “The Abramos would like to see you.”

A half-second later, the call ended.

Anger went numb. His heart thudded to a stop.

Was she trapped in a car with Carlo or already on the plane? Even if they weren’t yet at the airport, he’d never make it in time to stop them.

The numbness blurred, replaced with rage. It balled his hand into a fist and drove it straight into the nearby wall, and he welcomed the burning agony across his knuckles as he dented the drywall, eager to feel the pain and release. The nurse manning the station shot to her feet and yelled at him to calm down or she’d get security to remove him.

“What’s happened?” Shawn asked.

Ethan had to force his thoughts into focus. The scattered, fractured feeling . . . this panic was disorienting. He dialed, cursing when his handler didn’t immediately pick up. “I have to get to Rome, now,” he declared when Daniel answered.

“Wow, you’ve got some balls on you, Foster, ordering me around after all this shit you’ve pulled. Forget it, you’re coming in—”

“No,” Ethan snapped, trying to shake the pain through his fingers. “The Abramos have Olivia.”

Shawn’s eyes widened with surprise. He pulled up his own phone and after the press of a button, asked to speak to the captain.

“Do I need to remind you again? Your cover is blown. I can’t send you after her.”

“Then send someone else, but Jesus, do it now.” Worry started low in his center and rattled up his body. “I don’t know how long they’ll keep her alive.” Or what they’d do to her until then.

“I don’t have anybody—”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not. And even if I did, how would I justify that?”

“She’s the one who IDed Castillo.”

There was no response from the other side. A warning flashed through his mind that she wouldn’t like it, that he immediately silenced. “She’s Kathryn Pierce. Remember that name? She’s the Army private who survived a helicopter crash and fought off a Taliban attack. She’s the one the Pentagon splashed all over the media.”

“Son of a bitch.” The pause lasted much too long. “Shit. I might be able to pull Tragar to lead the strike team, but he’s at least three hours out.”

Three hours was way too long, but Ethan would need this as a contingency plan, in case things went farther south. “Do it.”

“Tragar might be risking his life for someone that’s already dead. Think about it.”

“Say something like that again and I’m going to knock you flat on your ass next time I see you. You think about
that
, Daniel.”

Shawn’s gaze followed the phone as Ethan put it away, and then returned to Ethan’s eyes. “I just activated the secondary flight crew. They found another pilot.” He combed a hand through his hair, then reached for Kara. “They’ll be ready by the time you get to the airport.”

Ethan surveyed the group before him, all of their eyes on him. The expression on Shawn’s face, on Laurel’s . . . understanding. They already knew he was going after Olivia.

“Thank you, Shawn.”

“Be careful.”

Ethan thundered down the hall. He had to get her back. They had all sorts of unfinished business to sort out, and this was all his fault . . .

He’d get her back, or, more likely, he’d die trying.

It was Olivia’s second visit to Vitale’s villa. The sprawling mansion was located on the outskirts of Rome, with manicured lawns and gardens, and a view of the basilica in Vatican City. The blue dome loomed in the distance, and even though she wasn’t Catholic, she’d give anything to be there now with the tourists. Instead, Carlo grabbed the links of her metal handcuffs and pulled her stumbling along inside the house.

As elegant and refined as the villa appeared on the outside, the interior was a masterpiece. The carved marble staircase was smooth as glass and seamless, and meticulous woodworking framed hand-painted murals on the walls of the entry. The cuffs dug into her skin as she was tugged into Vitale’s office. She’d stood here less than two months ago and accepted the captain position, wanting to believe his money came from something benign like investments or banking, and knew she was being foolish.

The office was a bit over the top. Rich golds and reds accenting dark oak. The velvet curtains stifled the sunlight. They were closed now so that no one could see what was happening, even though the closest neighbors were too far away.

Vitale’s desk didn’t have a computer on it, like the desk was more for show, rather than function. This intimidating office was used to let the guests know who was in charge, and Vitale sat on his leather chair like it was a throne. Carlo went to stand beside Vitale while Gio dropped down on the plush couch, pointing at the spot beside him for her to sit.

“I’m glad to see you alive,” Carlo translated for Vitale.

“Are you?” She kept her head held high and her shoulders back as she lowered herself to sit on the couch, trying to keep her distance.

Vitale looked pleased. “Of course.”

She bit down on the side of her cheek to stay rational and quiet.

“I think you’ll be useful,” Carlo continued for Vitale.

She’d bitten too hard and the blood seemed to be everywhere in her mouth, clinging to her teeth and it did nothing to help her sour stomach. “Useful how?”

“You have information about the man we know as Nathan. If you share that information, I don’t see a reason why we can’t let you live.”

Her laugh was deep and bitter. There’s no way that was going to happen. “Sorry, I’m going to have to decline your generous offer.”

A faint smile curled the edge of Carlo’s mouth like this was the answer he was secretly hoping for, and he continued to translate for Vitale. “That’s disappointing, but I’m a patient and optimistic man. Giovanni will take the remainder of the day to try to motivate you to reconsider.”

She filled her lungs with air until her whole body felt full of something other than immobilizing rage. She needed to find an angle for escape. Carlo’s eyes burned with excitement and malice. Although the desire to retreat into herself was strong, she held it back. There was pain in her immediate future, broken bones and other, darker things.

“You might break this body,” she said to the men in the room, every word burning in her throat more than the last, “but you won’t break me.”

It’s like she’d just told him he’d won ten million Euros. “I suspect you won’t break easily, no. It would be a shame if you did.”

She shivered as Vitale drew up to stand and pulled the vest of his impeccable suit down, smoothing a hand over it. He said something to Gio that Carlo didn’t translate, and then he was gone, the office doors shut behind him.

She wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved that Vitale had left. Gio was impulsive and unpredictable, but Vitale’s professional and calculating demeanor scared her even more.