Double Impact: Never Say Die\No Way Back (30 page)

“It's the woman, isn't it?”

Ron's question brought Michal up short.

He didn't hide the surprise in his expression quickly enough. “I knew it was you,” Ron went on. He pushed off from the stone wall, allowing a slash of sunlight to fall over his profile. “When the woman was discovered alive and well and then came up missing, I knew.” He turned to Michal. “You know that her existence jeopardizes this mission. She could ruin everything.”

A muscle ticked in Michal's tightly clenched jaw.

Ron glanced first right then left, noting the children racing after the goat that had escaped their watch. “My CIA contact says she has no memory of any of the events from two years ago.” His gaze locked with Michal's once more. “The risk that she might remember is far too great. You must take the proper steps.”

Michal inclined his head, his barely banked fury no
doubt blazing in his eyes. “And if I choose otherwise, what will you do? Kill me?” He smirked. “I think not.”

Enough talk. Michal turned away. There was nothing more to say…not even to the man who was his only friend, the only soul on earth he could trust. He walked away.

“Michal.”

Though he hesitated, he did not turn around to face the other man.

“What happened two years ago was a necessary risk.
This
is not. You know what has to be done.”

The warning fell on deaf ears.

Whether Amira lived or died was Michal's decision.

His alone.

 

“I'
D LIKE TO TAKE
a walk.”

Ami stared into the cold, beady eyes of the man named Carlos and prayed he would not deny her request. Michal had allowed her to go outside for short periods each day for the past three. Since he'd been gone all morning she could see no reason one of the other men couldn't do the same. She just hadn't expected to find Carlos outside the door of the bedroom turned prison. Why did it have to be his turn to watch her?

His glare turned more venomous but, to her credit, she held her ground. She knew he, more so than any of the others, despised her. As with all else related to her current situation, she had no idea why. She only knew that she had to find a way to escape. Nothing else mattered.

“Go back into the room. I have no time or desire to bother with a whore such as you.”

Fear raced up her spine, but she held herself rigid against it. “I am allowed to take a walk. Michal said so,” she argued, working hard to keep her voice from quavering. “I want to do it now.”

Carlos made a dismissive sound and turned away from her. He folded his arms over his chest and propped against the wall next to her door as if that were the end of the subject.

She had to do this. Michal was gone. This might be her only chance to get outside without him watching her every move. “Fine.” She swallowed back the terror rising in her throat. “I'll just ask one of the other men to accompany me.”

When he didn't respond, she focused her gaze on the end of the hall where it opened into the massive great room and started in that direction. Her heart thudded so hard against her rib cage she could scarcely take a breath. One foot in front of the other, she reminded her sluggish brain. She was almost there and Carlos hadn't demanded that she stop. As she came to the entryway leading into the great room she could see three men lounged around the room. One had been nicer to her than the others. Kolin, she was pretty sure. Kolin from Ireland. It seemed that Michal Arad's band of terrorists were multinational.

Not merely a ragtag group of multinational terrorists. These men are highly trained, the cream of the crop. Their ruthlessness is rivaled only by their superior intelligence and innate instincts. No one has been able to stop them.

Ami jerked to a halt as the words crashed into her thoughts, shattering all else. She blinked. Where had she heard those words before? The voice sounded vaguely familiar. She frowned, concentrating with all her might.

Tanner.

His voice. Had he said those words to her in the nurses' lounge when he'd tried to warn her about all this craziness? Why hadn't she listened? Uncertainty turned the hardwood floor beneath her feet to mire. How could she hope to escape?

Suddenly aware that all eyes in the room were on her, Ami jerked her attention back to the matter at hand. She sucked in a bolstering breath and manufactured a shaky smile. “Kolin.” She looked directly at the only man who had shown a glimmer of kindness toward her. “I'd like to take a walk now. Would you mind—”

The rest of the words trapped in her throat when someone grabbed a handful of her hair, snapping her head back. Carlos, she realized, terror claiming her all over again. He jerked her against him and pressed his face close to hers. “You disobeyed me,” he snarled. “No one disobeys me.”

“I—I just wanted—”

“Shut up!” He tightened his fist in her hair. “When I'm finished with your punishment you won't forget to obey me again.”

She cried out as he jerked her backward, toward the bedroom that was her prison. Begging for help would be pointless. None of the other men would dare defy Carlos. He was the second in command.

“Carlos, please…I…”

He shoved her into the room. For one second she prayed he would slam the door and leave her be. The next second she knew that was not going to happen. He slammed the door behind him and moved toward her like the evil predator he was.

Fear sent her stumbling backward. Her heart stuttered to a halt in her chest as the fury in his eyes turned to a sinister gleam. Her throat closed in fear. He was…

He slapped her hard, knocking her off her feet.

“You may have Michal fooled,” he bellowed, “but I know what you're up to.” Her jerked her to her feet when she tried to scramble away from him. “You've come back to finish the job you started two years ago.” He pounded
his chest with his free hand. “I know this. I am not blinded by your whorish temptation.”

She tried to claw his fingers away as they closed around her throat. The coppery tang of blood leeched from her lip into her mouth. “Stop,” she whimpered, his punishing grip very nearly overpowering her ability to speak. She tried to knee him in the groin, but he twisted away from her feeble effort. He slammed her against the nearest wall and jabbed the barrel of his weapon into her temple.

“Who sent you here?” he demanded, his face only inches from hers, the stale smell of whiskey on his breath.

She tried to shake her head. To deny his accusations. But his brute strength pinned her helplessly to the wall.

The barrel of the weapon bore more deeply into her skull. “You will tell me or you will die.”

“Laissez-la partir.”

Though she didn't understand the words, the stone-cold voice belonged to Michal.

“I said, let her go,” Michal repeated.

Relief flooded Ami, making her legs so weak beneath her that she collapsed to the floor the instant Carlos released her. Her chest ached with the harsh banging of her heart.

Carlos turned on Michal. “She makes you weak,” he accused, the pitch of his voice rising to match his fury.

Ami cradled her bruised throat with her hands, gasping to fill her lungs more fully with life-giving air, but her gaze was locked on the two men squaring off only a few feet away. Carlos still held his gun in his hand. Michal stared him down, his own hands empty but clenched into hard fists at his sides.

“Your orders are only to see that she does not escape,” he said firmly.

Carlos waved his gun at her. Ami gasped and curled
into herself protectively. “She makes a fool of you, my friend. She was sent here to destroy us…just like before.”

Michal's dark gaze remained steady on Carlos, his composure never faltered. “That is for me to decide. You—” he moved a step closer to Carlos “—will never touch her again. Is that understood?”

For three long beats Ami wasn't sure if Carlos was going to back down. His fingers tightened around his weapon as the face-off continued for another seemingly endless second, then he said, “You will regret this day, my friend.”

Carlos walked out of the room, not waiting for Michal to say more.

Thank God. A sob burst loose from her chest. She closed her eyes and tried hard to hold back the tears, but it was impossible. If Michal had not arrived when he had…

Strong arms suddenly scooped her up. She tried to escape, but he held her firmly against his chest. What was he going to do with her? Fear pumped through her veins once more. She stared up at Michal and tried to make her lips form the words to ask that very question, but she didn't have the strength.

He carried her into the bathroom and settled her on her feet. She seized the opportunity to put some distance between them, moving around to the far side of the sink. She pressed against the wall, trying to make herself small and unnoticeable. Some of the panic had receded, but the fear lingered still. He planned to kill her…he'd made no bones about that. She couldn't fathom why he'd bothered to save her from Carlos.

Unless…he wanted the honor for himself.

She shivered uncontrollably. That was it. He'd said as
much. It would be
his
decision. He would no doubt do the deed personally.

Emotion brimmed behind her lashes as she thought again of her sweet baby and the idea that she would never see him again. Another sob wrenched from her heart.

Michal moved toward her, trapping her between the wall and his powerful body. Her fingers fisted against her sides, the urge to run or to fight so fierce she could scarcely resist the impulse to do one or the other. He growled savagely beneath his breath in that language she thought to be French. She didn't understand the words, but he looked furious.

Her breath caught as he reached toward her.

That dark, dark gaze collided with hers. “Don't move,” he ordered softy but, even tempered, the tone echoed with the danger that emanated from every square inch of him.

As gently as if she were an injured child, he cleaned her bleeding lip with a damp cloth, dabbing tenderly. Stunned by the act of mercy, she could only stare at him and watch the startling metamorphosis of emotions on his face. This close she could see the tiny lines that marred the smooth complexion of his skin. Lines that spoke of years of close calls with death and wielding that same power over others. The hard set to his chiseled jaw told her more about the unyielding determination he possessed than any words could have. His entire body was honed to lethal perfection. And yet the tenderness exposed in the beard-shadowed, granite-like features of that same face shifted something deep inside her.

He could kill her in an instant, but instead he was making her come.

The breath hissed past her lips. It was him that she'd been dreaming of…even before the episode in the ER with
the injured Israeli man…before the startling conversation with Jack Tanner.

Michal Arad was the man she'd dreamed of making love with so often that she'd been unable to commit to Robert. The dark image that had haunted her dreams had rendered the possibility of a future with the real, flesh-and-blood man in her life impossible. Robert hadn't had a chance, she realized ironically. He'd been competing with a ghost…

A ghost from her past.

“They all want you dead,” Michal murmured as he studiously worked to soothe the bruised skin of her throat with the cool, damp cloth. That dark, dark gaze lifted to meet hers. “What am I to do?”

Later, when she could think back on that moment, Ami couldn't say what made her do it—some long-buried instinct or self-protective urge—but she thrust her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest and sobbed.

She didn't want to die.

Somehow she knew that though he appeared to have the most reason to want her dead, he was the only one who could save her.

A
MI KEPT HER EYES CLOSED
,
feigning sleep until he left the room. At last she opened them and blinked to adjust to the pale dawn hues sifting through the wall of windows. Her gaze went immediately to the chair where he sat each night and watched her. She shoved the thin coverlet aside and sat up in the bed, the cool air easily penetrating the gossamer-thin gown she wore, making her shiver. She stared down at the silky pale pink garment, wondering what had made him give it to her last night.

He'd stayed closer than usual since the incident with Carlos two days ago. That memory sent a shudder quaking through her. She consciously set aside the other memories related to that exchange, especially the one where she'd thrown her arms around Michal and held on tightly as if he were her only anchor in violent waters. He had allowed the unexpected display for a few moments before pushing her away, his expression going instantly from tender to threatening.

No matter what she thought she saw as he'd tended the hurt Carlos had inflicted, he was still determined to have his vengeance. To make her pay for her betrayal two years ago. Ami trudged to the bathroom and took care of necessary business, including a change of clothes.

As she brushed her forever unruly hair she considered the face in the mirror. Could she really have played the part of Amira Peres as Jack Tanner had said? Was she
really capable of those kinds of exploits? The dreams she'd experienced night after night the past two years seemed to indicate a past with Michal. But she couldn't be certain. The dreams could be nothing but dreams. Just because his features were dark didn't make him the father of her child. She trembled with something totally unrelated to fear for her life at that thought. If that were true and he ever found out about Nicholas…

She shook off the concept. For that matter Tanner could be the father. He'd insinuated that something had gone on between them while he'd trained her for the mission. His coloring was dark, as well.

Ami shook her head. Maybe Carlos was right. Maybe she had been nothing but a bought-and-paid-for whore who'd done the CIA's bidding or anyone else's, ultimately betraying Michal.

But he was a terrorist. Another shiver danced up her spine. The single most ruthless terrorist on the planet, Tanner had said. Somehow it didn't fit. She had yet to see him harm another human being. Not even when Carlos over-stepped his bounds did Michal use violence to control the situation. It was true that he'd manhandled her to a degree, but he hadn't actually hurt her. She studied the fading bruises left over from her encounter with Carlos. Now there was a man she was certain was capable of horrible violence.

Ami sighed and rubbed her hands over her face. This was all insane. She was a nurse, for Pete's sake. A mother. She didn't know anything about terrorists except what she saw in the news. She barely kept up with politics. How could she be this Jamie Dalton, undercover agent for the CIA, that Tanner told her about? How could she have played the part of Amira Peres and then orchestrated the murder of Yael Peres?

She shook her head. It just wasn't possible. Of course, the coincidence that the name Ami could be derived from both Amira and Jamie wasn't lost on her. When she'd been found wandering in that park two years ago the name Ami Donovan was all she'd known. She'd stuck by the name, insisting that, despite her inability to remember anything about her past, she was indeed Ami Donovan. The police and even the FBI had searched every data base available and found nothing on an Ami Donovan. For all intents and purposes, she simply did not exist.

“But here you are,” she argued with the weary-looking reflection. “Caught in the middle of a nightmare.”

The dreams hadn't relented, either. Each night the images played across the private theater of her mind. Nothing was ever clear enough for her to actually identify a face or place. But there was always, always the irresistible lure of the dark man who knew her so intimately.

Ami sagged against the sink and closed her eyes, summoning the face of her sweet baby. At least seven days had passed since she'd held him in her arms. She replayed every moment of that last night they'd spent together. She'd bathed him and they'd played until he'd scarcely stayed awake long enough to be tucked into bed. What she would give to hold him now. An overwhelming pain arced through her, tightening her chest.

She straightened and forced her eyes open. She hadn't given up on her plan. Since Michal had warned Carlos about pushing her around, the other men had treated her a bit more kindly. Perhaps kind was an overstatement, but their unsympathetic, hateful attitudes toward her had relaxed just a fraction. One man, Kolin, had actually smiled at her. She was certain she could befriend him if given the opportunity.

With this new relaxed attitude had come a little more
freedom. She could now leave the room as long as the guard assigned to watch her accompanied her wherever she went. Her outside time was still quite limited. Michal didn't want her outdoors unless he was with her.

But that could change if she played her cards right.

And if she stayed alive.

Determined more each day to make her escape plan a reality, Ami took a deep breath and exited her room. She smiled for the man who immediately stood at attention when she stepped through the open doorway.

“Good morning,” she said at a loss for his name.

“Señorita,”
was his only acknowledgment.

She remembered then that they called him the Spaniard. So far she had discerned that there were a dozen men in Michal's group. Two members whose native tongue was unquestionably Spanish, as the one guarding her, Kolin, from Ireland, Carlos, whose origin she couldn't even guess, at least three Frenchmen, and four of Middle Eastern decent. The whole group appeared to be multilingual. She didn't even want to hazard a guess as to the other talents they possessed. Tanner's words kept echoing in her head each time she considered what these men were capable of. That she was a prisoner among them felt surreal, like a bad movie she'd been forced to watch over and over.

But it was real. And somehow she had to escape.

Had to get back to her son.

“I'd like breakfast,” she said to the Spaniard and smiled again, injecting as much sensuality as she could muster into it. The slight flare of his nostrils told her she'd been successful. Nausea roiled in her stomach, but she ignored it. Whatever the price, she reminded herself.

As Ami made her way through the house to the enormous gourmet kitchen she noted a curious tension in the air. The men were hovered in groups in the great room
conversing quietly, all were, as usual, armed to the hilt. Their furtive glances as she'd passed through the room nudged at her, made her stomach tighten. Something was up. She had grown accustomed to the Uzi machine guns and various handguns, but this was different.

With as much nonchalance as she could manage, once in the kitchen she sliced a piece of bread from the thick loaf and slathered it with butter. A cup of coffee and she was set.

Pretending to ignore the murmurings of the men, she strolled back into the great room and peered out the floor to ceiling windows facing the front of the property as she negligently nibbled on her bread. The house sat high on a ridge above the valley below. If she squinted she could see the profile of a city in the distance and the sea beyond that. Miles away, she estimated. But even risking the journey through the unknown terrain that lay between here and there was not beyond her scope of comprehension. Better to die in the wilderness than at the hands of one of these terrorists. She suppressed a shudder. She needed to pay attention. Something was definitely going on. Whatever it was it could be important to her.

Ami nibbled and sipped and watched the birds fly past outside the windows, but not for a second did her full attention stray from the quiet voices behind her. Some of the conversation was carried on in a language she didn't understand, but most of it was in English. Kolin and another of the men had gone into town early that morning to deliver a package. God only knew what the package contained. Ami felt certain she didn't want to know. Kolin had spotted someone. She frowned, rolling the phrase he'd used over in her mind.
Traitre.
He said it again, with fervor. Another of the men shouted,
“Adversaire.”

Then she knew.

Traitor. Adversary.

Her throat went suddenly dry.

She gulped the cooled coffee. Kolin and the other man had run into an adversary, a traitor. They'd brought him here. Her blood went cold. At least these terrorists she knew, a stranger put a whole new bend in the situation. She trembled with a new kind of fear, but forced herself to pay attention. She needed to know more.

In English, one of the men mentioned that Michal was interrogating the traitor in the cellar at that very moment. Laughter rumbled through the group. Carlos had gone back into town with three other men to sweep the city just to be sure none of the traitor's friends were hanging around. Another thought that sent her tension to new heights.

Slowly, so as not to attract their attention, Ami turned around. The Spaniard, her guard for the day, had joined his buddies in the discussion about the traitor.

Carefully dividing her attention between the men and her destination, she eased from the room. Once beyond the doorway, she moved faster, heading for the kitchen. She placed her cup and uneaten bread on the table and braced her hands against the smooth wooden surface until she'd fully summoned enough courage to go through with the next step. From the corner of her eye she looked at the door that led to the cellar. Carlos had taunted her with the possibility of being locked down there a couple of times. She shivered again as dread punctuated the thought.

Sparing one last glance toward the expansive hall that connected the kitchen to the great room, Ami wove her way through the kitchen to the door.

Her fingers wrapped around the cold brass door handle. She held her breath as she pressed downward, releasing the latch with a click that rent the air like a shotgun blast in her overcharged imagination. One minuscule increment
at a time she opened the door, praying the hinges wouldn't whine. The wooden stairs that lay on the other side of the door dove downward, a bald low-wattage bulb casting their depths in gloom.

Ami swallowed at the lump of fear clogging the back of her throat. She had to know…had to see if Michal Arad was the ruthless killer Tanner had said he was. Was he the kind of man who would end her life only to assuage his need for vengeance when she clearly had no memory of betraying him?

Ami closed her eyes and hesitated before stepping down onto the first tread. What she really wanted to know was if the man who'd touched her so tenderly two days ago as he'd seen to her split lip and bruises was really capable of cold-blooded murder.

Holding her breath all over again, she took the first step. It didn't creak. Relief made her knees weak. One more step. Then another. And another until she was midway down the steep incline. At this point, if she crouched she could see the dank, musty cellar almost in its entirety. A floor-to-ceiling rack filled with dusty, unopened bottles of wine lined one wall. Storage shelves covered the wall opposite the staircase.

“You will tell me!”

Ami almost jumped at the shouted words. She cautiously leaned forward a bit more. In the corner, very nearly behind the staircase, was Michal. He stood over a man who looked to be tied to a wooden, straight-backed chair. Michal moved slightly to the side and her assumption was confirmed. The man, who looked about thirty with blond hair and a light complexion, was definitely tied to the chair. His face was bloody and he wore an expression of infinite pain underscored by blatant insolence. She
wondered if Kolin and the others had worked him over or if this was Michal's doing.

Just then Michal raised his hand and hit the man across the face; his head snapped back. The sound of the blow made Ami jump as if she'd felt it herself. Blood gushed anew from his nose. Even in the low light and from the span of twenty or so feet Ami could see that it was broken. Her heart lurched when Michal raised his hand once more.

“You will tell me
now!
” he shouted.

“Go to hell!” his prisoner barked then winced.

To her astonishment Michal lowered his hand. He stepped away from the man and she froze. If he turned around right then he'd see her.

He moved in the other direction; she released the breath she'd been holding. Taking his time, he unbuttoned the crisp white shirt he wore. Ami blinked, confused. But his movements soon mesmerized her, made her forget all about the prisoner tied up a few feet away. The white shirts Michal wore reminded her of those pirates must have worn as they'd ravaged the ships of old. The sleeves were billowy, the front double-breasted. When he shouldered out of the flattering fabric, her breath trapped in her lungs all over again at the sight of his broad, broad shoulders and back. He laid the shirt aside on a crate and turned back to his prisoner.

Ami shook off the ridiculous curiosity with his male features and focused on the poor man in the chair. If she made her presence known, could she somehow prevent further harm to him? Or would she only call Michal's rage down on her. Her gaze went back to the man. Before she could decide if he was worth the risk, Michal had his gun in his hand and had pressed the tip of the barrel against the man's forehead. Her eyes went wide with disbelief.

“It is my favorite shirt,” Michal explained. “I can see that this is going to get very messy.”

The man blinked rapidly. The sudden slump of his shoulders told Ami he'd admitted defeat on some level.

“You think you are invincible,” he said to Michal, sneering in spite of his obvious no-win situation.

“Enough games,” Michal said wearily. “Give me the information I need and I will make this as swift and painless as possible. Who was behind the Bellatti hit?”