He drew a breath, watching Emma. Her expression was flat. Emotionless. As if she was trying very hard not to react at all. He remembered what she said about her father, and had a feeling that she understood his story only too well.
“I don’t know if my father beat her,” he said simply. “But I know he beat me. And one day, I heard the word divorce. I was only seven, but I knew what it meant. Most kids would run and cry hearing a word like that. I felt like someone who’d finally experienced sunshine. And then two days later, that sun was snuffed out.”
“What happened?” Her voice was hoarse, barely audible.
“He kidnapped me. Moved us to Mexico. And then—”
“Wait. How? Surely he didn’t go to your grandfather’s. So how could he set up there?”
“Oh, I forgot to say. My paternal grandfather could track his heritage back to the Mayflower, but my grandmother was Monterrey born and bred. My dad was born in Mexico, because that was the way his mother had wanted it.”
“So your dad had dual citizenship.”
Tony nodded. “And so he just went into the country with his son and disappeared. At least until my mother committed suicide and her father died not long after. Then, suddenly, he inherited the ranch from his wife—the divorce hadn’t gone through yet. And if there were any questions, well, he just paid people not to voice them.”
“So you grew up with him? On your mother’s family estate?” He could practically hear the shudder in her voice.
“No. My uncle rescued me. It took two years, but he stole me away from my father when I was nine. By then—by then I knew even better what kind of man he was. Brutal. Powerful. Vile. And he surrounded himself with the same.”
“So you lived with your uncle?”
He nodded. “Until I was sixteen. That’s when The Serpent came.”
“The Serpent.” Her voice was flat, and she leaned forward, her brow furrowed in what he assumed was confusion.
“A mercenary my father kept on retainer. A man who did his dirty work. That summer, he killed my uncle. Retribution for stealing me from my father. The Serpent beat him and left him for dead. He died of internal injuries with me at his side in the hospital. And with his last breath he told me that my mother hadn’t taken her own life. My father had ordered The Serpent to kill her too. Made it look like an accident”
“I’m so, so sorry.”
“So am I.” He ran his hands over his face, the three-day growth scratchy in his palms. “I went after him. My father, I mean. Or I planned too. I waited too long pulling together the mission. The intel. I found some mercenaries who took me on. Trained me even though I was still a kid. I wanted to do it right, you see. I wanted to make him suffer.”
He watched her as he spoke, looking for a sign of revulsion that he could actually want to hurt his own father. He saw none. On the contrary, he thought he heard hope when she asked, “Did you?”
“No.” The word was flat. “Someone got to him first. Blew him away. Chest. Groin. Face. You probably read about it. It was big news in Mexico and LA. Clyde Morgan blown away by an unknown gunman.”
Her eyes widened.
“You did hear about it.”
“I—no. It’s just so coincidental that someone got to him first. What year was that?”
He told her, and she nodded slowly, as if the year really mattered. “I was fifteen then,” she said. “That, um, wasn’t a good year for me. I wasn’t paying much attention to the news.”
He studied her. Nothing visible in her expression had changed. But there was something—something intangible. Something different in the air between them. He wondered what horrors she’d suffered, too.
“So you’re going to the island to get intel about The Serpent?”
“Right. The man hunted down and tortured my uncle. He murdered my mother. I’ve been looking for him for more than half my life. It’s a personal mission, but one that led to my vocation. I’ve trained with paramilitary groups all over the world. Been someone else’s hired gun more times than I can count. And I joined Deliverance to make a difference. And all those years, I’ve been hoping to catch another break. Because I never stopped searching for The Serpent.”
“And now you’ve got a lead.”
He leaned back, steepling his fingers under his chin. “A possible lead. It’s from a dark web contact who may or may not really be a woman. I’ve been putting out feelers for years. So this might be a lead. It might be nothing. It might be a trap.” He spread his hands, then met her eyes. “And that, Emma, is why I’m not interested in a partner who’s only decoration. I need someone who can hold their own if this all goes south.”
“And yet,” she said, leaning back with just a hint of a grin, “it’s still a sex island.”
“That it is.” He flashed his most charming grin. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re attracted to me.”
She raised a brow, but said nothing. Just swirled the whiskey in her glass. Then she tossed back what was left, downing it in one long swallow. “All right,” she finally said. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a partner.”
Chapter Five
I know he’d expected sex. Of course he did. If for no other reason than we probably should practice before we arrived at the island. After all, we’re both professionals. And that means always being prepared. Knowing your weaknesses and your assets.
In this case, I guess that means getting familiar with his ass, among other things. And considering the way he wore those jeans, this shouldn’t be an unpleasant assignment.
But, sadly, there’ll be no prep work tonight. Not that kind, anyway. I need to make my own arrangements. And since our plane for the island departs at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning, I’ve only got so many hours left to work.
So I sent him home. And if that leaves him as antsy and unsatisfied as it does me … well, he’s a big boy. I’m sure he can take care of that himself.
I watch through the window, and as soon as his taillights disappear around the corner, I head back to the kitchen. There’s a false panel on the front of the dishwasher, the combination for which is derived by tapping the control buttons in a particular order. I do that now, and the false front unlocks. I pull it down, revealing a standard combination lock on the hidden interior door. I enter that, turn the handle, and open the door to reveal the shallow enclosed space that houses one of my alternate IDs, complete with passport, credit cards, Nebraska driver’s license, cash, and a burner phone. I’ve never been to Nebraska, but it seemed like a good choice at the time.
It’s the phone I need, and I take it out, dial the familiar number, then hang up after three rings.
Then I wait impatiently until he calls me back.
I answer on the first ring. “I need to see you.”
“You know we can’t break protocol. If anyone figures out we know each other from before…”
“I officially joined your firm this morning. Then I quit. But I think I’m back in now. Honestly, I haven’t got a fucking clue.” We don’t use names over the phone, but he knows well enough the firm is the Stark Security Agency.