The Mogul (Necessary Lies Book 2) (23 page)

P
resent-Day
…

“
L
isten carefully
, Piper. I’m going to need you to be brave for me. If this is going to work, you’ll have to do exactly as I say. Okay?”

As if I could refuse anything a glistening, shirtless Atlas Titan asked of me anyway, I nodded in the affirmative.

“I’ve sent out an S.O.S. If we’re lucky, there’s a fishing vessel nearby without too many men aboard. If there is, we’re going to hijack it. Nobody knows I was on that plane, and I doubt there’s any record of you being there, either. If we can get to shore, we disappear. They’ll know a man and a woman were fished out of the ocean, maybe even connect the dots that we were survivors of the crash. But they won’t know who we are. So if it can be avoided, we leave no fingerprints behind. I need your shirt. We’ve got to wipe this buoy down. A beautiful woman in just a bra is going to be more distracting to our rescuers, anyway. Can you do this?”

I didn’t relish the thought of being discovered in just my bra, but what Atlas said made sense, and I pulled the soaking wet garment up and over my shoulders.

The hungry way Atlas stared at me made me blush. “You can’t look at me like that!”

“Like what, Piper?”

“Like a hungry, salivating lion. Like you want to devour me.”

“You’re very perceptive. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Staring at the eye-level bulge in his ripped, blood-stained pants gave me the same desire. The shudder I felt had nothing at all to do with cold ocean water or exposure.

“Do you hear that? From over there.” Atlas pointed over my right shoulder, and focusing my ears I heard the faint hum of an engine over the sound of lapping waves.

“Is that a boat?” I asked. We both looked up at a jet flying high overhead, but once it passed, the sound of an approaching vessel was unmistakable.

“When they get close enough, wave them down. I’m going below deck.”

“What do you…below? Atlas, you can’t! There are sharks all over the place!”

“I’ll be fine. We need the element of surprise if this is going to work. I’ll swim across and board the boat while everybody’s fixated on you. And believe me, they’ll definitely be fixated on such a sexy damsel in distress. Once I’m aboard, follow my lead. We commandeer the vessel and get it back to shore. No names once we’re on board, and try not to touch anything if you can help it. We want to get off and disappear. Leave no trace. I’m going in the water now; they’ll be able to see us before we see them. I don’t want to give them any reason to believe you’re anything but alone. Kiss me.”

Clumsily, I straightened up as much as I could in the center of the buoy, throwing my arms around the thick, muscled neck of Atlas Titan. He kissed me hard, his hand at the small of my back, pulling me in as tight as possible. It was a kiss I never wanted to break, not only because the man I loved was going to be jumping, bleeding, into shark-infested waters, but simply because Atlas was such a fantastic kisser.

When the kiss finally ended, he stared into my soul with those impossible eyes of his.

“I love you, Piper.”

“I love you too, Atlas.”

With that, he used my shirt to wipe down the panel where he’d been working, then the struts on the buoy. Finally, he tossed the shirt back to me and I tucked it into the waistband of my pants.

He turned to me one last time, knife in hand. “Do you like sushi?”

His levity facing death caught me off-guard, and I couldn’t help but laugh, nodding enthusiastically. There was a splash, and suddenly the fins that had been circling us seemed to disappear all at once. And I was alone.

On the horizon, a boat approached.

T
wenty-four hours Ago
…

S
eeing
Spencer made my skin crawl, and knowing he again had Piper at his mercy turned my stomach. If I could get near him, I intended to kill him. With my bare hands, if need be. But to get near him, and Piper, I had to get to them before they left the country. My father needed protection, needed to be warned, but Piper needed saving more.

I knew anything I did on my phone would be intercepted, but being able to read a message and being able to decipher it are two entirely different things.

I brought up my brother Odin’s name on my phone, and said a silent prayer that he hadn’t forgotten. We hadn’t had reason to use “Titanese” in many years, but I banked on him remembering.

Growing up, my three brothers and I loved playing cops and robbers, army, hide and go seek, and a game we made up called “manhunt.” Manhunt had a fluid set of rules, but it was a game that would sometimes run for days and even weeks. We’d include our nannies, friends, and whoever else could help us achieve our imaginary objectives. Very cat and mouse, spy vs spy, full of intrigue and espionage. Double agents were everywhere, traps and disguises could be elaborate, and at times, messages had to be left.

I credit Manhunt for guiding my life not only in the direction of the military, but into special ops and then black ops.

Odin and I developed an intricate code, a language we called “Titanese.” It wasn’t a spoken language, but we used it to leave notes, write messages in snow, mud, and sand, and to get our stories straight when we needed out of a jam with our folks or a teacher. By high school we’d perfected it to the point we could write messages back and forth in plain view of others, adults or peers, and nobody could read a word of it.

I sent him a text message in our secret code explaining, succinctly as I could, the situation I was in, and asked that he contact our father. I ended the message in plain English:
To whom it may concern: Get right with the Lord. I’m coming.

Within minutes, my phone buzzed. Odin. “
10-4
.” He’d received the message, my father would take the necessary steps to beef up his security, and I could focus on Piper. And my prey.

P
resent-Day
…

I
felt
the entire buoy move once and then twice, jerks from below, and then a red slick covered the top of the water a few feet out. The blood froze in my veins as I was waited for something, anything, to breach the surface.

When the shredded body of a dying shark bobbed to the surface, quickly attacked and torn to pieces by two others, I exhaled. When the face of my lover broke through the waves, I wept. He was fighting for his life, for my life. Despite the situation, I’d never felt more protected.

While the bloody water ballet continued behind me, I rose to my feet and swung my shirt overhead, trying to get the attention of the fishing vessel bearing down on my location.

Within minutes, it was alongside me, five wide-eyed men staring at me in disbelief. If I’d turned into a mermaid right at that moment, I don’t think any of them would have been surprised.

I’d last seen Atlas over two minutes ago, and I feared the worst. I was grateful for the rescue, but part of me wanted to beg the rough-hewn fishermen to search for Atlas, to save him as well.

They pulled me aboard, covering me with blankets, asking a thousand questions at once. Where had I come from? How did I send that message? Was I part of whatever crashed out there? I had to be. What was it? Who was I?

I kept repeating “
je ne comprends pas l'anglais
,” hoping none of them had taken enough high school French to recognize my laughable command of the language.

Just then, the attention of the crew turned to a loud thud below deck, where one of their number had gone to tend to something. Two men went to investigate, but instead of either of them returning, it was Atlas who climbed the ladder and squared off with the burly first mate. The captain bolted for the cabin, and, I assumed, the radio, which I couldn’t let happen. Channeling my inner Atlas, I stuck out a leg, sending him crashing to the deck as he moved past me. I leapt onto his back, doing my best to delay him until Atlas was finished.

I turned just in time to see a right hand uppercut send the man Atlas was fighting to the floor, and I locked eyes with my protector. A smile crossed his face, the smile of a delighted child, and I caught a glimpse of Atlas as a little boy.

“I should have let you fight the sharks, you wildcat!” Atlas exclaimed.

The captain shrugged me off, but by then Atlas stood between him and the cabin and his shoulders slumped in resignation.

“Relax, friend. All we need is a ride back to shore. A nice, quiet ride. No radio, no phone calls. Just get us to solid ground and you and your crew are free to go. I can pilot this craft. Any funny business and all five of you can put on life vests and try your luck with the sharks. So sit back and relax. I apologize for the wasted day. Hope you catch lots of fish tomorrow. Oh, and I’ll need that big fella’s shirt.” Atlas pointed at the man sprawled on the deck who he’d knocked out last.

The captain looked equal parts confused and relieved and tended to his men. Atlas collected their phones and anything they could use as weapons and placed them in the hold, pointing us toward the shore.

E
ighteen hours ago
…

I
f I knew QB
, he was already in the air. Despite the craziness that closed the airport and choked most commerce in the city, he was a man who always found a way.

I might luck into him, but he’d likely have to wait for another time and place. Malcolm and Spencer, however, were still around. I could smell them. The thought of what they might be doing to Piper had me ready to burn the entire city down in order to stop them, but if I was to save her, precision was the order of the day.

I hated to resort to petty theft, but I did what was necessary to put a few dirhams in my pocket, some food in my belly, and get my hands on some parachutes and a weapon. The dust storms would have the airport closed until at least the next morning, giving me time to stake things out, find Malcolm’s plane, and find a way on board.

Odin sent word that dad was bunkered and in no danger. I only wished I had such assurance regarding Piper.

A stolen Bentley and a bluff got me onto the airfield as a driver. I hoped to avoid direct confrontation until I was face to face with Spencer or Malcolm, but an overzealous airport security guard discovered me sneaking around the private jets and I had to send him to his seventy-two-virgin eternal reward. I regretted what I had to do, but nothing and no one was going to keep me from Piper.

I spirited myself aboard after watching Malcolm’s plane receive its final preflight inspection and fueling. I stashed the parachute I’d been able to acquire under the bed, where I hoped it wouldn’t be discovered, and I hid myself in the rear lavatory. With any luck, we’d be in the air before anyone had reason to use it. If I was facing off against Spencer and Malcolm, and potentially some security, it wouldn’t hurt to have the element of surprise on my side. Not to mention the fact that once we were in the air it was almost a certainty that any combat would be hand to hand. None of them were likely to be foolish enough to discharge a firearm in a pressurized cabin.

All I had to do now was wait.

P
resent-Day
…

“
Y
ou’ve got
to be the sexiest pirate who ever sailed the Seven Seas, Piper Kipton.”

The adrenaline rush of the past few hours had mercifully waned, and being by Atlas’s side as a salt spray hit stung our skin was absolutely perfect. He’d been texting his brother, Odin, to plan our next move once we made landfall, but now his arm was around my waist, pulling me tight against him. I was silently grateful for the fact that he hadn’t yet put on the shirt he’d borrowed from the first mate. Watching his pecs rise and fall with each breath and his arms ripple as he operated the boat was heavenly.

“Atlas, are you alright? This cut on your shoulder looks really bad.” The wound looked like it could have been caused by an axe, wide and deep, although mercifully it had stopped bleeding.

“I’m sure they’ve got some fishing line on board somewhere if you’d like to sew it shut for me.” Atlas grinned as he said it, studying the gash. “Ought to make for a nice scar. And a good story. When we get to wherever we’re going to bivouac tonight, I’ll glue it shut.”

I cringed at the thought, but somehow, in this death-defying superhero world of Atlas Titan, it all made sense. Food? Sleep? Pain? Fear? Those things were irrelevant. All Atlas needed, improbable as it seemed, was me. Oh, and a tube of superglue.

T
en hours ago
…

T
ricks
I learned in SEAL training helped to keep me awake as I waited, but I was grateful for the extra room afforded in the bathroom of a luxury jet as opposed to a regular plane. Stuffing myself into even a First Class bathroom would have been like cramming an elephant into a phone booth, and the ensuing cramps would have left me stiff and unable to fight as effectively as I’d need to.

I stretched and kept repeating the Preamble to the Constitution to myself.

It was something I’d memorized in fourth grade, somehow in the tranquility and posterity, it had always helped me focus.

After a few hours I heard voices out in the cabin, and I pressed my ear to the door to listen for the one sound I was desperate for, the melodic tone of Piper Kipton.

Hunting knife in hand, held just as the Navajo instructor at SEAL school taught me, I willed my ears to collect everything they could.

The voices I picked up spoke Arabic, but they were too muffled and my Arabic too rusty to decipher much. From what I could gather, they were stocking the plane with food and drink, doing last minute prep. I prayed, for their sakes, that they wouldn’t discover me.

Soon, everything grew silent, but not for long. More voices, this time speaking English. Three, or maybe four male voices, one probably Spencer, and finally, unmistakably, the sweet sound of Piper. Her voice sounded exhausted, defeated, and I wanted desperately to rescue her right at that moment. But if my plan was going to work, I had to wait until we were in the air. Once I killed Spencer, a sitting United States Congressman, there would be no turning back and very few places I could expect to hide. Doing it here and expecting to escape was unrealistic. Not that my plan really sounded like it made much more sense, but it at least gave us a chance.

The engine roared to life and I felt us taxi and then leave the ground. I hadn’t heard anything since that initial flurry, meaning everyone was probably in the main cabin, belted into their seats.

Once we reached cruising altitude, I heard voices again, close to my position. Only two, in the bedroom right outside my door. Spencer and Piper.

“Malcolm tells me Atlas fucked you right here, right on this bed. You whore. Did you enjoy it?”

“Shut up, you bastard!”

“You aren’t nearly as prissy as I remember you. Cavorting with that pig seems to have turned you into trash as well. Would you like to watch the tape? It might turn you on. Then we could have some fun. Let’s get comfortable and I’ll put it on the screen here. Malcolm sent it to me, I just haven’t had a chance to watch it yet.

“Fuck you, Spencer!”

“Ha. Well, yeah, that’s the idea, bitch.”

I’d heard enough. We weren’t quite as far out as I wanted to be, but I couldn’t leave her in the clutches of that monster another moment.

Blade in hand, I slid the door open as silently as I could, just in time to watch Spencer force Piper onto her back on the bed. She looked revolted and terrified.

I wasn’t going to give him a chance to use her as any sort of hostage, so I dove across the bed, my shoulder knocking him off and onto the floor.

Piper looked as though she’d seen a ghost, but the surprise on her face was nothing compared to the shock expressed by Spencer Cameron.

I rose to my feet, pulling Piper up and around behind me. I didn’t want her to see what was going to happen next, nor did I want her to get hurt.

“Take this,” I said, handing her my knife. “Go into the bathroom and lock the door. Don’t come out, no matter what you hear. Do you understand?”

She squeezed my hand with all her might, but made no sound. I glanced back to see her nodding, her eyes wet with tears. “Go. Now!”

Spencer was staring me down, trying to decide if he could reach the main cabin before I could reach him, I guessed. I heard the bathroom door click behind me and I circled toward the cabin door.

“You and I have unfinished business, you piece of shit,” I said, my voice shaking with rage.

“I’m a United States fucking congressman, Atlas. I travel with security. We’re on a plane. In what possible scenario does this end well for you? We’re going to land in D.C, Piper will be my plaything until I tire of her, or until QB sends word to take her out. There’s no other conceivable outcome.”

“Conceive this, motherfucker!” With that, I charged Spencer Cameron, throwing away stealth and the element of surprise for anyone else who might be on board. He had to pay, and the bill was due immediately.