The Colonel's Widow? Page 15

  “Where’s Aaron Gold?”

  “Okay, good one—and easy. Aaron was a big help. A big help, but he’s outlived his usefulness.”

  The relief he’d felt at hearing that Irina was safe faded and was replaced with dread. He closed his eyes briefly. “You killed Aaron?”

  “Not yet. I thought you’d enjoy watching. Just like I’m certain that Mrs. Castle will get a kick out of watching you die.”

  Rook clenched his jaw. Let the man get his jollies. He knew Ordo was trying to get a rise out of him, but Rook was not going to give him the satisfaction.

  He tried to relax. If Novus could see something as subtle as a muscle tensing, then let him enjoy it.

  “Let’s hear your third question,” Novus said.

  “How many questions do I get?”

  Novus’s brows drew down and his jaw tightened in irritation. “As many as I want to give you. Until I get bored. And by the way, that question—very boring.”

  “What happens when you get bored?”

  That amused him. “I have a question for you.”

  Rook nodded. “Okay,” he said. Inside, he felt the swell of triumph in his chest. He’d figured it wouldn’t take long for Novus to get around to talking about himself. To do what he’d done took the mind of a megalomaniac, the soul of a sociopath, the distorted assurance of a messianic delusion.

  “Have you figured out why you haven’t been able to identify me?”

  “What makes you think we haven’t?”

  Novus rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Give me some credit. If the United States had confirmed my identity, my face would be plastered all over the Internet and the TV, searching for people who knew me, who might still be in touch with me. And I have spies everywhere.”

  “Maybe we’re smarter than that. How did you feel about your brother’s death?”

  Even in the dim light, Rook saw Novus’s face darken. “That was unnecessary,” he said. “And your mistake. You probably could have bullied him into talking. So I guess I should be happy he’s dead.”

  Rook looked at him questioningly. “Can I ask another question?”

  Novus sat back on his makeshift throne and crossed his legs. “Sure. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

  “What are you doing here? You don’t seem like the type to embrace Islam, or enjoy these primitive conditions. What made you leave your cushy life to come and live like this?”

  “Cushy life?” Novus’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  Rook winced inwardly. He hadn’t meant to go there—at least not yet.

  “What are you talking about? What do you know about—” Ordo stopped, studying Rook.

  Finally he smiled and shook his head. “Oh, no. You’re just trying to get me riled, You don’t know anything about me.”

  Rook thought fast. “I know that when you were a kid, you didn’t dream of becoming a terrorist. I know you’re fairly intelligent, and extremely clever. What’s the attraction? The fame? The money?”

  “Haven’t you been paying any attention to my radio messages? My blogs on the demise of this planet? Why do you think I bombed that nuclear plant in India? And that supposedly secret chemical munitions warehouse in Mexico. Why do you think I took three American oil tankers hostage?”

  “That was you?” Rook goaded.

  That angered Novus. His face turned bright red. “Of course that was me. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  Rook shrugged. “I guess I forgot. From what I understand, a lot of people think you’re dead. It’s been two years since you’ve carried out a major attack. So what was your problem with those places? The oil tankers carry fuel to move food and necessary supplies around the world. The nuclear plant brings electricity to hundreds of thousands of people who couldn’t otherwise afford it. And that munitions plant? It produced one-third of the chemical munitions used by the U.S. and NATO nations to protect their people.”

  “Do you know what happens to the waste from those places—not to mention the waste from people’s everyday lives? We’re destroying our planet. At the rate we’re going, we’ll be lucky if any species of insect survive the next decade.”

  “And that’s not a good thing?” Rook asked innocently.

  Novus pressed his palms against his temples. “You’re baiting me. You can’t be that dumb. Without insects, the entire ecology of the planet will fall apart. Mankind—hell, everything—will be extinct.”

  “If I’m understanding you correctly, you’re committing acts of terrorism to save the planet? I’m not quite sure I can make that leap. You’re murdering hundreds—thousands—of people in order to what, save some insects?” It was all Rook could do to keep from smiling. Ordo was right. He was baiting him.

  “You don’t understand. How could you, with your narrow point of view and your privileged life? Don’t think I don’t know who your father is. Be thankful I haven’t bombed his National News Network yet. Although I do have plans to see what I can do to get my hands on some of those millions, after I’ve sent your body and your wife’s back to the U.S.” He smiled benignly. “I wonder who inherits all that money when you and your wife are dead?”

  Jennie. His baby sister. Rook used every ounce of strength in his body not to react. “You’ll never have the chance, Novus.”

  Ordo laughed. “Tall words. You act brave. It’s going to be interesting to see how brave you really are.”

  “Bring it on, Novus. Without your rag-tag bunch of soldiers, I doubt you can hold your own.”

  “These hyenas? They don’t understand my real purpose. I don’t expect them to. They’re useful just like they are. They think they’re fighting a holy war. Makes it easy to send them on suicide missions.” He stood and walked around the wooden chair and leaned on the back of it.

  “Everyone is so hot on their religious icons,” he continued. “They think Allah is their savior. Christians think Jesus is.” He shook his head.

  Rook frowned. “What do you think?” he asked, pretty sure he knew the answer.

  Ordo thumped his chest. “I am the savior. I’m the only one who can really solve the world’s problems. I tried to explain to your wife. No one would listen to a new PhD graduating in environmental engineering. Not even at MIT. I advocated for change. I wrote papers. I testified before Congress. I did everything I could to convince people that the destruction of the planet is almost out of hand.”

  Novus doubled his fists and pounded on the back of the chair. “I had no choice. They’ll see. By the time I’ve taken out all the nuclear plants in the U.S., the world will know me and will see that I’m right. That I have saved the planet.”

  He was going to destroy over a hundred nuclear plants?

  “You don’t have the manpower to blow up a hundred plants at once.”

  “You have no idea.”

  With a start, Rook realized that the terrorist was right. There was no intel on how many followers Novus had.

  “If you blow up all the nuclear plants in the U.S., you could potentially kill every person in North America.”

  “America is the biggest offender.”

  “When are you planning this attack?”

  Ordo held up a finger. “Oh, no. Nobody knows the answer to that question. I trust my people, but not that much.”

  “I’m impressed, but I don’t see you gathering enough people to carry out a plan like that.”

  Ordo yawned. “I’m bored. I thought you came here to rescue your wife.”

  Rook assessed the terrorist. What was he up to? “Of course, that’s my top priority. But stopping you is a close second.”

  “Would you like to see her?”

  Rook’s throat seized. “Yes.” He didn’t trust himself to say anything more. He’d been so afraid that Ordo had hurt her, so afraid that he’d killed her already. He knew that all Ordo had wanted was to provide Rook with proof that he had her. It’s why he’d forced her to call him. After that, Ordo had no reason to keep her alive.

  “Goo
d.” Ordo came around the chair. “One thing I’ve never been accused of is being a bad host. Although you, Colonel Castle, are too big a liability to my cause and my anonymity, you obviously deserve some respect for your rank and your perseverance.”

  Rook waited, maintaining a neutral expression. At least so far, Novus had no idea his anonymity had been compromised.

  “I’ve prepared my bedroom for you for tonight. Tomorrow morning I’m afraid I’ve got to execute you. But for now, I’m offering you a gesture of respect. Enjoy my hospitality, and enjoy your wife, on the last night of your life.”

  Rook laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “No, sir. I am serious. It’s a tradition amongst warriors. The night before the final battle should be spent in love. I’m offering you a warrior’s final night.”

  There had to be a trick. Hidden cameras? Hidden microphones, in hope that he might whisper some secret plan to Irina?

  “However,” Ordo added.

  And here it was. The trick.

  “You’d do well to remember, Colonel Castle, that my bed is better guarded than any place in this entire province. If you try to escape, you’ll be shot down like the mangy coyote you are. I’ll put your head on a pike. And then I’ll do what you failed to do. I’ll enjoy your wife, right on top of your bloody corpse, before I leave her to my soldiers, who have few enough chances to see a beautiful woman such as her.”

  He took a deep breath and smiled. “Do I make myself clear?”

  Rook looked Ordo full in the face and nodded. “I accept your offer.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rook walked through a narrow passage into another candlelit room—an anteroom to the main cave, cut or worn into the mountain. It actually was set up as a bedroom.

  Most of the candles were on wooden boxes that served as bedside tables for the surprisingly contemporary king-size bed. The mattress was draped with colorful quilts, spreads and pillows in jewel tones.

  A carafe of water and one of wine sat on a low table beside the bed, along with bowls of figs and almonds.

  On a low stool beside the bed was a porcelain chamber pot. The rest of the cave was bathed in darkness. Two candles flickered on a side table. In the glow, he made out a bowl and pitcher and a small stack of folded cloths.

  Was this how Ordo lived, or had this ersatz honeymoon suite been put together for Rook’s benefit?

  More importantly—was Irina really here? Just as he asked himself that question, a shadow moved across the surface of the bowl and pitcher.

  “Irina?” Her name was wrung from his throat unwillingly, in case Ordo was watching or listening. A testament to his fear and hope.

  The shadow froze, then through the dimness a small figure moved toward him. The candlelight’s glow picked up the person’s silhouette, then began to chase the shadows away from the curves and planes of her body. Her body.

  “Rina?” His voice broke.

  “Rook?”

  She stepped out of the shadows. She was dressed in a simple white abaya with embroidery across the front and down the sleeves. Her hair had been washed but not styled, so it floated like golden fog around her drawn face. Her blue eyes were huge and frightened.

  He tore his eyes away from her and looked around the room, wishing he could somehow sense where microphones or cameras might be.

  She touched his arm and gasped quietly. “You’re really here.”

  His gaze snapped back to hers. He took a step forward and held out his hand.

  For an instant she stared at his fingers as if she didn’t quite know what to do, but then she laid her hand in his.

  When she raised her frightened blue eyes to meet his, he tugged lightly, pulling her to him and wrapped his arm around her. For a few seconds, she just stood there, unmoving in his arms. Then he felt it, the giving in, the yielding. He knew she couldn’t stay detached if he touched her. Just as he couldn’t with her body pressed against his.

  He embraced her fully, pressing her sweet familiar body to his, branding himself with her. How had he lived without her? Burying his nose in the sweet curve between her shoulder and neck, he knew the answer. He hadn’t lived—he merely existed.

  “Oh, Rook,” she whispered. “Why did you come? Did you not figure my message?”

  “Shh,” he breathed in her ear, so low he couldn’t hear himself. Then he nodded, twice.

  Irina’s breath blew out in a ragged sigh and her arms came up around his neck. “Then why—”

  He tightened his arms. “Shh,” he breathed again. “He could be listening.”

  She shook her head. “Nothing on me. I checked.”

  He was relieved. But what about him? Had the soldiers placed a bug on him during the strip search, or on the ride here? “Wait,” he whispered.

  He pulled away from her and shed his shirt, then brought his hand up around her neck and bent until his mouth was against her ear. “Check me.”

  She did, running her hands through his hair and down his neck. Over his shoulders, his upper arms, forearms and hands.

  He stood stiffly, knowing the touching was necessary, knowing that losing himself in the soft caress of her fingers could be deadly, and yet unable to keep from reacting.

  When she moved to his throat, his collarbone, his pecs, his heart rate went up and his breathing grew ragged. She wouldn’t touch his nipples, would she? Not in this dangerous place as she performed such a dangerous job.

  Her hands slid across his pecs and down his breastbone.

  Then she did it. She ran her fingertips across his already distended nubs. He gasped. He lifted his hands to stop her before the intense shock of lust spread through his whole body, but he was already too late.

  He groaned as his erection pulsed and grew.

  She ran her fingers across his rib cage, his waist and his abdomen. When they touched the waistband of his pants, he caught her wrists.

  “Back,” he grated, and turned around. “If it’s down there they won’t be able to hear much.”

  She quickly checked his shoulders and back. When she was done, she pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade.

  He turned around and pulled her close again. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and she didn’t try to pull away from his obvious arousal. In fact, she slid her arms around his waist and pulled him close.

  “We need to find a way out of here,” he whispered.

  Her breath caught. “No.” She shook her head.

  “Yes. We might be able to make it. He can’t have enough men to guard every inch of this mountain.”

  “You don’t know what he’ll do to you if you try to escape.”

  He cradled the back of her head in his palm. “He’s going to kill us if we stay here.”

  She stiffened and shook her head again. Her fists doubled against the small of his back. “Rook, he’ll torture you and leave you to bleed to death on the ground.”

  “So I should just give up without a fight? Without trying?”

  She brought her fists around and up to pound on his chest. “You—man!” she hissed. “Your reasoning makes no sense. It will be better, because he promised me. He will give us this night together. He will give you—” her breath caught in a sob “—a dignified execution by firing squad.”

  “And for you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “That’s what I thought. What would you have me do?”

  “Preferably? Rain the punishment of God down on his head. Kill him, no matter if we die with him. Rid the planet of his insane power.”

  Rook nodded. “That’s the plan,” he breathed in her ear. Then he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth and followed them with his tongue, tracing its delicate curves all the way around and back to the lobe, which he nibbled again.

  Irina’s entire body tingled with arousal as Rook teased her ear. He knew what he was doing. He could always get his way by nibbling on her earlobe.

  Right now, his teasing added to her already turned-on state. Her body soared to the
brink of climax.

  The dire task of making sure Rook’s torso hadn’t been bugged had turned into an erotic interlude unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She had no way of measuring how long it had taken to search every inch of his upper body, but for her, time had stood still, as if she’d been trapped forever in an erotic time warp of foreplay. Every place she’d touched, every millimeter of his skin had hummed with warmth, with life, with sexual stimulation.

  “Rina.” His voice buzzed in her ear, like a bee.

  He took her fist in his hand and uncurled it gently, then guided it to the ball of his shoulder. “Feel,” he whispered.

  She ran her palm and then her fingers over his smooth skin, his shoulder bone, his strong, tense tendons.

  Then she felt it. The tiny hard circle, right behind the ball and socket of his right shoulder.

  “What is that?” she whispered, her heart pounding at the possibility that formed in her mind.

  “A GPS locator chip. Brand-new technology. But I need to get outside.”

  A tracking device. He’d done what Ordo had ordered him not to do, on pain of death—his and hers. He’d brought reinforcements.

  She lifted her face until her lips were almost touching his.

  “Blow out the candles.”

  “What?”

  “I slept here last night. Trust me.”

  His brows rose, but he did what she’d said. As he extinguished the last candle, he realized there was still light coming from somewhere. He glanced around but didn’t see any other flames.

  While he’d been busy with the candles, she’d lain on the bed. He could see her skin, pale against the dark, rich colors of the spread and drapes.

  “Come here,” she said softly.

  After an instant’s hesitation, he climbed onto the bed and lay beside her.

  “Look up,” she whispered in his ear.

  He did. Directly over the bed was an opening in the cave roof. Not a large one. Just enough to let moonlight in and to see a few stars.

  Just enough to—

  Rook’s astonished gaze met hers. She nodded.

  Then she saw something she’d only seen a few times since she’d known him, and not once since he’d come back from the dead.