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A Cloak of Lies Ch. 01

By: SweetWitch



 This story was previously posted and now back by popular demand. Or demand, anyway. Please be sure to let me know what you think.

~Molly

A Cloak of Lies

His fingers began to cramp. He forced himself to loosen his grip on the steering wheel, to ease his foot back on the accelerator. Too dangerous to call the attention of the police, he told himself. 

It would be daylight soon; he'd need a place to pull over, someplace to lay low during the sunny hours ahead. If only he could've taken a flight, it would've been so much faster, but that was too dangerous, as well. Better to travel by car under the cover of night, and hide in the day.

Gregorios Nikodemos Pavli wondered once again how she'd react to seeing his face after all these years of thinking him dead. Did she still wonder what had happened to him? Did she care anymore? He tried to remember how his wife looked the last time he saw her. She'd waved to him as he left that day, a smile on her succulent lips. She'd tied her blond hair back from her lovely, oval face and her blue eyes had sparkled in the morning sun. 

He remembered thinking he was a lucky man, he'd had it all -- a tall, reedy wife who loved him, their future shining in her eyes, a home to be proud of. He'd had it all and lost it in the blink of an eye, on the whim of fate. 

Digging his thumb and forefinger momentarily into his tired eyes, he tried to clear his mind and focus on the road ahead. Only one more night after this and he would be home, at long last. 

Home, he thought. It wasn't really his home anymore, though, The Fates had seen to that. In all the years he'd been gone, he thought only of returning, of wrapping his arms around his wife and picking up the pieces of his life. Even as he envisioned his sweet Camille, he knew that it would not be that easy. If he were lucky, he would be able to get her safely away in time. She had a mind of her own and had, undoubtedly, gone on with her life. 

There would be a fight, if he knew his Camille, a fight that would make all their past disagreements look like minor tiffs in comparison. Since the day they'd met, their relationship had been stormy, each fight ending in the passionate forgiveness of the marriage bed. Will she forgive me this time? 

The horizon showed a faint glow, signaling the approach of day. He pulled out the map that nestled folded between the seat and the console, switching on the small lamp to read by. The exit's next, then left, he thought. He'd find a camp ground soon, lay his tired head down and dream of her. 

He wondered if she would still be attracted to him. They'd both been young when they'd married; he had been twenty-one and she nineteen. They couldn't wait to start a family, as so many young couples do. In her, he had found the joy that he had lost only four years before when his parents had been killed in an accident. They'd been gloriously happy, but then things had gone wrong, tearing him from his world, and thrusting him into one not of his own making.

Camille had been so beautiful, and he had little doubt that she still was. Her hair had been the color of sun-dried wheat and her eyes as blue as the sky on a warm, spring day. Her skin was golden and supple, like dewy silk to the touch. Her body had been one that could give a dead man a hard-on, with full breasts and a small waist that led to the soft curve of her hips. Were her lips still as red? Were her eyes still as bright?

Yes, he thought, she's still beautiful. As for himself, he hadn't changed much in the ensuing years since his "death". His hair was still the color of darkest night -- untouched by gray after all he'd been through. His eyes were still as black as ever, and he used them to intimidate his enemies when necessary. He still had hard, athletic muscles that covered his six-foot, three-inch frame, and he was blessed with the physical strength that had carried him through life. Looking in the car mirror, however, he could see that his face had hardened, had lost its easy friendliness. Perhaps he had changed more than he realized.

Niko waited at the door of the campground administration office for thirty minutes before someone finally drove up to open the grounds for the day. He checked his disguise before the person could approach, making sure that his beat-up fishing hat was in place, and that he looked sufficiently enthusiastic about making the big catch from the various lake species available at these particular sporting grounds. For all intents and purposes, he was just another urban professional out for a long weekend of solitude and sport.

He watched as a young woman got out of the red sedan that had just pulled in, a set of keys in her hand. She slowed as she approached the door, eyeing him from under batting lashes. From the expression on her face, he could tell she liked what she saw, as most women often did. Over the past eight years he had gotten to the point of ignoring such lustful glances because, as so many of them were, this woman was beautiful, but she was no Camille.

With an easy smile on his face, Niko tipped his hat to the woman, waiting for her to unlock the building that housed the office. He hated the light banter he had to make as he registered, but it was all part of the game. Keep people relaxed, keep them off their guard and they'd not be suspicious of him. He had to be part of the landscape, just another friendly face in the crowd, blending with all the other tourists.

He'd chosen a campsite far away from everyone else, telling the receptionist that he wanted a quieter spot to fish. She wished him luck as she handed him his ticket, letting her fingers linger over the palm of his hand. As he had done so many times in the past, he merely smiled and let her see the gold band that encircled the third finger of his left hand. To him, that ring was a bond, one that should not be broken.

It did not take him long to set up his small tent, fix himself a sandwich and crawl in to sleep. He was bone-weary, too tired to focus anymore. His eyes felt like they were embedded with sand, his head leaden on his shoulders. He'd been traveling for three nights, too many nights of sleeping on the hard ground. Soon, he told himself, as he pulled the shining Smith & Wesson Model 19 .357 Magnum from its holster and tucked it under the edge of his sleeping bag, soon he would be seeing his Camille.

***

Chapter 1

Niko Pavli pulled his nondescript Chevy Impala to a stop, a safe distance down the street from what used to be his home. His first inclination was to pull into the drive, tear open the front door and announce that he was home. That was a foolhardy notion, at best, and suicide at worst. 

He had managed to keep tabs on her, to a certain extent, through his contacts in the Company, and other sources, but all he really knew was that Camille had refused to accept the police report presuming her husband to be dead, still bore his name. He also knew that she still lived at 2344 Briar Road, even after all these years. Beyond that, he had no way of knowing what was going on in her life or in her mind.

He looked through the lens of the little monocular that he'd brought with him, searching the windows of the small house. It was late, nearly 11:30, but he could detect movement silhouetted through the sheers that covered the glass. His pulse began to race when he realized that she was in there, still awake -- if only he could see her clearly.

Niko was just about to open the car, go to the house and announce his presence when the door opened. Camille looked golden and beautiful as she stepped into the light that flooded over the floor of the front porch from the open doorway. The expression on her face was wistful, soft, with a slight smile that curved her strawberry-colored lips. She hadn't changed a bit, still beautiful, still supremely bewitching. Her hair was shorter, reaching just past her shoulders, but she was still the same woman he had last seen standing on that very spot.

He opened his car door, stepping out onto the street. There was a tightening in his chest -- and his groin -- as he contemplated how best to approach. He'd tried to remain true to his marriage vows while he was away, only sampling precious few of the offers he had been given by the women he'd met along the way -- and only when the need was more than he could bear. None of them had compared to his Camille and had left him feeling empty, fulfilling only the most base of physical needs. 

This woman, who stood so gracefully in the lamplight -- only she could fulfill the need that stirred in him. He took his first step, freezing in his tracks when he saw her turn to face the door again. The curve of her face, angling upward as if to greet someone, lifted in a deepening smile. Even from this distance, he could see the glow in her eyes as a man walked outside to stand just inches in front of her. Niko saw his wife lift her arms, wrapping them around the man's neck, as she stood on her toes to receive his kiss. 

White-hot pain, like that of a glistening knife blade slicing through his flesh, hit him in the chest, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He felt the rage building, his fists clenching at his sides. Never had he wanted to kill anyone the way he wanted to kill someone at this moment. Blood rushed through his veins, roaring in his ears, as he fought against the fury that threatened to consume him. 

"Let it go, buddy."

So caught up was he in the madness that consumed his mind, he'd not heard the voice that spoke so low. When a hand clutched his shoulder from behind, he whirled around, ready to butcher whomever it belonged to.

The man's hands went straight up, palms out in front of him. "Easy, Niko. It's me. Just relax."

Niko's jaw was clenched, it's muscles protruding outward under the strain as he glared at his friend and partner. "How'd you find me?" he ground out.

"Easy. You have a one-track mind. When you disappeared it was just a matter of putting two and two together. I've been here waiting for you."

Niko wheeled back around, watching the scene in front of the house. His sweet wife was waving to the man as he walked toward the car in the drive. She was blowing him kisses and calling out that she loved him. 

"I know what's going through that head of yours, old pal. Just let it go. She has a new life now. What did you expect after eight years? You need to cool that hot Greek blood of yours before you do something stupid."

"Fuck you, Olan. Fuck you all to hell," Niko hissed. Knowing that what Olan Jeffreys told him was true didn't help much. 

"Let's get out of here before someone sees you, pal," Olan urged. "You know this is madness."

Niko turned on his friend again, facing him with a defensive posture, daring him to interfere. "Eight years, you son of a bitch. Eight years gone. You all fucking lied to me," he growled.

"Niko, nothing I say will change a goddamn thing, but, for what it's worth, I never lied. I believed them, too. Now, come on," Olan returned, his arm stretching out to Niko. "Let's get out of here before it's too late."

"No."

Niko spun around, his long, powerful legs eating up the ground before him in ever-quickening strides. Within moments he was stepping onto the floorboards of the front porch where Camille had been standing mere minutes before. He heard Olan's running footsteps coming up behind him, knew the man would try again to stop him. As Niko raised his clenched fist to knock on the door, his friend grabbed his arm and pulled him around. 

With little effort, Niko shook off the smaller man, facing him again, with all the wrath he felt burning in his eyes. "Get back, goddamn it. I don't want to hurt you, Olan, but, by God, I'll pound the living shit out of you if you don't stay back."

"Yeah, you could do that," Olan said slowly. "You could beat me to a pulp and leave me bleeding in the dirt, but think, man. How's she gonna feel seeing you after all this time?"

"I don't care. She's my wife," Niko retorted, turning and raising his fist again.

"No, she's not," Olan declared softly. 

Niko's arm froze in mid-air, before his hand came in contact with the door. "What's that supposed to mean?" he growled as he spun around again.

Olan ran a hand through his dark red hair, grimacing painfully at the duty that lay before him. "I'm sorry, Niko, but you know the drill. Dammit, life just sucks sometimes," he faltered. "You're dead, remember? Camille is your widow, not your wife. She's planning on getting married again. I know I should've told you, but... How do you think she'll handle it when she sees her dead husband standing at her door? You've got to get a grip, bro. Let's get out of here."

"This is your fault, the whole damned agency's fault," he ground out. "You took everything... everything. Tonight I'm getting it back." 

Glaring at Olan, Niko wrestled with his need for retribution, his need to hurt someone and salve the pain that rooted itself deeply in his soul.

"You can't, Niko," Olan said, resignation heavy in his voice. "I have orders to shoot you if you try anything. They want you back alive, if I can do it, but dead works for them too. I don't want to kill you. We been friends a long time."

"You better pull your gun then because I'm going in," Niko hurled back. "I have to get my wife out. If the bastards get their hands on her, they'll end up killing her and you know it. I won't take that chance."

Olan snapped his mouth shut before making a response, glancing around Niko as light once again flooded onto the porch when the door opened. The smaller man shut his eyes, cursing softly under his breath at what he saw.

The head of the larger man shot upright as his back stiffened -- an instinctual response to what was inevitable. A soft, lilting voice spoke from behind, sending a chill down his spine. A sudden flutter in his gut was followed by a nervous fear that was uncharacteristic of him, leaving him frozen with his back to the door.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" the voice asked.

Olan let his hands fall to his sides as he turned his back on the scene, leaning against the post of the front porch before folding his arms across his chest and staring into the dark. Niko watched him warily, unsure of whether to trust this man who had been his friend. Finally he turned to face the woman, to look upon her graceful beauty for the first time in nearly a decade. He steeled himself for the reaction that he knew would be inescapable: the shock and horror at seeing him alive.

"Sir?" she asked timidly. "What do you want?"

Niko stepped out of the shadows, allowing the light to flow over his long frame, and eventually, his face as he took a step closer. He watched her eyes, saw the concern at the intrusion, watched her expression change to confusion, finally becoming astonishment and horror. She was stepping backward, her fingers wrapping around her throat as the color drained from her face.

Camille stumbled, tripping over the edge of a rug before hitting the wall behind her and sliding to the floor. Her mouth moved, forming soundless words while her head shook back and forth. She continued to stare at him through the door, her eyes wide with bewilderment. 

Niko took a step over the threshold, reaching a hand to his recoiling wife. He'd worked out in his head what he'd planned to say during the long miles of the trip that brought him back to her door, but the flowery speech was lost to the reality of seeing her. 

"Camille..."

"Stay away!" the woman screamed, her hands coming up to fend off the wraith that reached for her. 

Niko dropped to his knees before her, wanting to take her quaking form into his arms, crush her slender body to his. Instead he let his hands fall against his thighs, his mind searching for words that would soothe her and finding none. All he could do was watch her face and see the horror that clouded her eyes.

"You two okay?" Olan asked from the open door.

Niko growled at the intrusion, snaking his hand out to throw the solid wooden door shut, nearly hitting the man in the face. At the sudden bang of the slamming door, Camille snapped out of her stupor, skittering along the wall on her hands and knees. She was on her feet in a flash, running for the back door of the small house. 

"Camille," Niko shouted, scrambling to his feet. He caught her about the waist before she could escape, pulling her back against his chest, inhaling her scent.

"Let me go," she shrieked, flailing madly with her feet, sinking her fingernails into the flesh of his arms.

"No," he said against her ear. "It's me, baby. I'm home now."

Camille ceased her struggles, her tense body trying to hold itself away from his. "Who are you?"

He could hear the panic in her voice, feel it in the quiver of her body. The terror he had seen in her eyes fed the rage that he felt at having been forced to live without her. He wanted to turn her around, take her in his arms and crush her mouth with his, make her understand he was really her Niko.

"Camille, it's me," he whispered into her ear, his lips moving against the sensitive shell. "I'm alive. I'm sorry... so sorry. Please, agapi mou... it's me."

The tension left her body with the sound of a soft whimper, a sound like that of a wounded animal. She weakened against him; her legs trembled and would have collapsed from under her had he not been supporting her slight weight. Her arms dropped limply at her sides, her head lolling forward.

"Camille, please..." Niko had one arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her head back with his other hand, cradling her cheek in his palm. Her skin was the color of virgin snow and icy to the touch, startling him to the point of near panic. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the living room where he laid her listless body on the sofa, chafing her hands and watching her glassy eyes.

Her voice, weak and soft, barely audible, said his name, "Niko... no, it can't be."

"Yes, agapi," he answered, speaking gently as he brought her hand to his lips, turning it over to place a tender kiss on her palm. "It's me, I promise you."

"But... but, you're dead," she rasped hoarsely. "They told me you're dead."

"They lied, baby."

Her brows drew together, her eyes darkening in her confusion. "How...?"

"It's a long story, love, and now's not the time. I came for you. It's not safe to stay here anymore. I have to get you out." 

"I... What?" To Camille the whole world no longer made sense. This man touching her was her dead husband, but how could that be?

"I know you're confused but we have to leave. I'm sorry, love. I wish there were time to explain. You're in danger. You have to come with me now." The woman reached out a hand, touched his face gently, timidly, as if he would disappear because of her actions. He covered her hand with his, pressing it to his flesh, indulging in the petal-soft sensation of her fingers. She moaned softly before her arms flew about his neck, clasping him in a fierce hug. A savage growl exploding from his chest, Niko wrapped himself around her, crushing her against him until she pushed back, gasping for breath.

He heard the cracking sound of it before he felt the sting of the vicious slap that left a fiery imprint of her hand on his cheek. She struck him again, a sob tearing from her throat as she raised her hand once more. Niko caught the small hand, pressing the palm to his lips, tasting her skin.

"No," she screamed. "No, no, no! "

Camille fought against him in earnest, shoving him back, pushing against his chest with her bare feet. Before he could catch her she was off the sofa, on her feet and running across the room. The betrayal she felt glittered in her eyes as she whirled around, facing him with a venomous sneer.


A Cloak of Lies Ch. 01



"Where the hell... You bastard. I went through hell! I thought you were dead. Eight years, Niko. That night, when you didn't come home, I was scared shitless. Eight years. The next day came and you still weren't home. I called everyone: friends, police, hospitals. I even called the goddamn morgue. 

"When the police came and told me they found your car at the bottom of the river and you were presumed dead, it tore the heart out of me. I struggled every day just to force myself to breathe. I had to get out of bed every morning knowing that you were never coming home again. Every night I climbed into that cold, empty bed remembering what it was like to have you there beside me and knowing that you would never be there again.

"Eight years. Eight years and not even a phone call or a note to let me know that you're alive? I wanted to kill you myself!"

Niko pulled himself upright, planting his feet firmly apart, facing her intently. "I died that night, Camille. I died every minute I was away. It wasn't supposed to be this long, only a few weeks. All I can say is I'm sorry. You were all I ever wanted, all I ever needed but..."

"If you two are done beating each other's brains in," Olan said as he peered around the corner, "I think we better get moving."

"What's up?" Niko asked his expression hardening.

"Suspicious vehicle. I think the secret is out. They know we're here."

Uttering an oath, Niko crossed the room, grabbed his wife's arm, steering her toward the door. "What are they doing?"

"They drove by twice -- four men, two in front, two in back."

"Let's go," Niko ordered, pulling Camille along.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Camille spat as she wrenched her arm free.

Niko turned, reaching for her again. "I don't have time to explain. We have to leave, now."

"Then go. Who's stopping you?"

He grasped her upper arms, his fingers biting into her soft flesh. "Camille, there are men coming here. They intend to kill you. You are leaving with me -- now."

"Why would anyone want to kill me? Don't be stupid. I'm not going anywhere. I have a life, Niko. It took me a long time to get my life back after you abandoned me," she sneered. "I'm getting married next month. He loves me and I love him."

"The hell you are," he growled, shaking her as though he could dislodge the idea from her mind. Seeing the fear in her eyes, he relaxed his grip, forcing himself to calm down. "Those men out there want to use you to get to me. If you don't come with me right now, they'll come in here, take you and... Do you understand what I'm saying? You're in real danger. You have no choice."

"No."

"God dammit," he yelled, just before he hauled her up against his body again, crushing her lips with his. He pulled back, looking at her dazed eyes and the fear he saw there. "If I have to, I'll carry you out of here, kicking and screaming."

"You can try," she hissed, bringing her knee up, striking just to the left of his testicles. 

Niko grimaced, relaxing his hold briefly in his surprise, just enough for her to jump free of his grasp. Her bare feet hardly touched the carpeting as she raced up the hall to the back of the house. She slammed the door to her bedroom shut, locking it and running for the phone. 

With a splintering crash the door gave way under Niko's large body, exploding inward in a hail of broken wood. Camille hurled the phone at him, shrieking, narrowly missing his skull before picking up a perfume bottle to do the same. He'd already reached her, grasping her wrist in his hand, twisting until she dropped the item.

"You're not Niko," she whispered, wincing in pain. "My husband would never have hurt me."

"I know," he rasped, sorrow dulling the shimmering black of his eyes. "I'm sorry but you leave me no choice."

Niko tossed her body across the bed, snatching at the bedspread to wrap it about her flailing body and head. "Forgive me, agapi mou," he whispered into the cloth as he pulled her swathed frame close. 

"Niko," Olan said urgently from the broken doorway. "They're back. We gotta go."

"Grab a pair of shoes for her," Niko said, inclining his head toward the closet as he lifted Camille's twisting form over his shoulder. "And a jacket. Follow me."

Olan followed Niko to the back door, shushing the squirming woman who continued her muffled cries from under the blanket. "She's gonna give us away," Olan whispered just as they heard a car door closing outside the front.

Niko set her on her feet, her body still enwrapped and struggling. "I'm sorry, Camille," he murmured before his fist shot out, cuffing her on the chin. 

He had controlled his strike, hitting her lightly, but she crumbled forward, landing against him. He said a silent prayer that she would be all right as he swung her over his shoulder again, allowing Olan to open the door and check that the coast was clear. Staying low, the men slipped out into the night, blending into the shadows and working their way through the backyards of Camille's neighbors.

They entered the street quietly, just a few yards from their parked cars, Olan dashing across the street to open Niko's car and switch off the interior light. Niko soon followed, scurrying through the darkness and avoiding the illumination of the nearby street lamp.

"Get the cuffs from the trunk," Niko whispered, crouching low, laying Camille's lifeless body carefully over the back seat.

Olan complied, keeping low, lifting the lid of the storage compartment a few inches and fishing out what they had laughingly referred to as their "James Bondian Spy Kit." It was a small leather case that contained various items necessary to their job, which every operative in The Company carried. Keeping an eye to the men that milled about Camille's yard down the street, he reported to Niko, "There's a second carload now, four more guys. They look pissed, too."

Niko pulled out the shining manacles he would use to restrain his wife against any escape attempts when she woke up, fastened her wrists securely behind her back. Uncovering her face to assure himself that she was getting enough air, Niko sat back on his haunches to close the door with a soft click. 

"I'll meet you at rendezvous point 'B'," he whispered, moving up along the car to open the front passenger door. He stopped before he entered the vehicle, turning to face the man who was his partner and his friend. "Thanks, Olan. I'm sorry to drag you into this."

"Don't sweat it," Olan answered just as quietly, his white teeth flashing vividly in the dark. "What are dumb fucks like me for? Wait till I pull away. I'll see if I can draw some of them off."

Niko gave a curt nod, entering his vehicle, crawling over the seats until he was nestled behind the wheel. He tried to keep his head low as he heard the car behind him come to life, the engine gunning and the headlight beams pitching the entire area into brightness. There was a screeching of rubber on asphalt as Olan's black Porsche slid out into the driving lane, tearing down the street and side-swiping one of the black sedans in front of Camille's house. 

"That's not at all obvious," Niko chuckled, amazed that the ploy had worked. 

He watched as five men piled into one of the sedans, peeling away from the curb, spinning around to give chase to the Porsche. That left three men and one car behind, two of the men no longer in sight. Niko watched the third who stood watch in the front yard, a gun that could only be described as a submachine gun, possibly an MP5, clutched in one hand. 

It's now or never, Niko thought as he gently turned the key in the ignition. Keeping his head low, he backed slowly, cranking the wheel around to roll the car up a driveway. He kept the headlights off as he shifted the car into drive and pulled forward, inching onto the street slowly and heading away from the house. He checked his rearview, making sure no one was following, as he made his way slowly out of the neighborhood, finally turning on his headlights to avoid unwanted attention. 

He wound through the back streets until he reached the city limits. It didn't take long to find his way out of town, sticking to the less traveled two-lane roads instead of the major highways. It was twenty minutes after leaving his former hometown before he heard a moan in the back seat, signaling Camille's return to consciousness. He could hear her moving about as she struggled to get a grasp on her situation, as well as bring herself upright.

Once she had managed to right herself, sitting up in the center of the back seat, her eyes glared at him in the mirror, burning her loathing into his vision. "Who the hell are you?" she ground out through clenched teeth.

"It's me, agapi," he said softly as he tried to focus on the road in front of him.

"Who are you?" she repeated, louder this time.

"My name is Gregorios Nikodemos Pavli," he stated patiently. "I'm your husband."

"Fuck you. My husband died eight years ago."

"No, agapi..." 

"Don't call me that," Camille hissed. "You have no right to use that name on me."

Niko ran a hand through his hair, scraping the midnight waves off his forehead, sighing as he tried to maintain his calm. "Camille, I swear by the Virgin that it's me. I've been trying to get back to you for years. I'm here now and..."

"Shut up," she screamed. "You aren't my Niko. My husband would never have hit me. My husband was a gentle person. You're an abusive asshole. My husband wouldn't kidnap me or tie me up. What do you want from me?"

The Chevrolet Impala, skidded sideways when Niko hit the brakes, swinging the car into a cornfield, the young stalks barely tall enough to conceal them. They slid to a stop with a cloud of dust enveloping the vehicle, far enough off the darkened road that they would not be seen. Niko threw the shifter into park, turning to reach behind the seat, grabbing her by the arm.

"I am sorry to disrupt your life, sweet Camille," he sneered as his anger got the better of him. "I know you would rather be in the arms of you lover right now, but you're just going to have to get over it." 

He pulled her closer so she could better see his face in the faint glow of the headlamps that reflected back on them in the close quarters of the cornfield. "All I've been able to think about was getting to you before they could, to get you out before they got their hands on you. I suppose you'd prefer that, huh? To have those sick bastards taking turns with you, passing you around, fucking you until there's nothing left. 

"To think I spent all those years working to get back to you, living for the moment when I could see your face again. But you, all that time, you were fucking someone else. Was he good, Camille? Did he find all those sweet spots that I know so well?"

Niko's words were cut short when Camille spat in his face, wrenching herself free of his grasp. She reared back, bringing her bare feet up to lash out, desperately trying to untangle them from folds of the bedspread that was still wrapped about her. Her voice was a cry of rage and anguish as she struggled, wanting to inflict real harm.

His fingers closed around her ankles, viciously biting into her flesh as he pulled her legs upward, her body dragging down the seat. With her head wedged against the bottom of the seat back and her hands cuffed behind her back, she was helpless, at his mercy. The way her head was pushed forward, against her chest, she had to struggle to breathe, each gasp of air coming with a painful grunt. Camille rolled her eyes upward, straining to see him, as he held her pinned with her feet against the headliner.

"Will you stop now?" he asked in a voice that was tight with his effort at self-control. "Will you listen to me?"

With no mobility in her neck or enough air to use her voice properly, she could only snort in answer. Niko slowly released her legs, then reached for her chest with one hand, clutching her blouse and pulling her upright. Their faces were almost touching in the darkness of the car's interior, his breath mixing with her gasps as she welcomed the freedom of unrestricted respiration. 

"I am who I say I am," he hissed into her startled face. "I'm the man who fell in love with you and took your virginity on our wedding night. I'm the one who has been through hell and back, trying to get back to you, only to find your lips on the face of another man and his arms around your body." He paused a moment while he tried to get the image out of his mind. "I'm the one who had to get to you before the enemy. Believe what you want, Camille, but you will cooperate and you will do exactly as I say. Is that clear?"

She returned his glare with pure vehemence, refusing to answer him, her jaw clenched tightly. Although she offered no resistance, he could see that this situation was only going to get worse. Memories of the past, those months they had spent so blissfully together had actually been stormy, with Camille showing herself to be far more headstrong than he'd first realized. Their courtship had been sweet -- both of them concerned about the other's feelings and needs -- but the marriage had been full of fire. He remembered how he'd decided, after one particularly vicious battle, he'd rather fight with this woman than make love to any of the others he'd ever known. Only she could set his blood to boiling and his temper to flaring.

"I will take the handcuffs off, but I want your word that you won't try to escape," he said, his hand still clutching the front of her blouse. "Answer me. Will you give me your word?" 

At her stony silence, Niko released her clothing, allowing her to flop back against the seat. He turned back to face the front of the car, pulling the shifter down.

"Wait," she snapped. "Get these damned things off me." She wriggled until she could sit upright, then turned to present her hands to him. Niko looked over his shoulder, a sneer of contempt on his face. "Give me your word."

"Fine," she muttered. "I give you my word."

He turned, reaching between the front seats, clasping the chain of the manacles in one hand. He began to slip the key into the tiny slot, then stopped, grabbing a handful of wheat-colored hair, dragging her head back.

"Why should I trust you," he breathed, his lips against her ear. "You've broken your promise to me before."

"What... what promise?" she stammered. 

"The 'cleave only onto' part of our wedding vows. You remember that, agapi, don't you? The part where you don't let any man but me touch you, the part where you promised to be faithful to me."

"Faithful to you? I don't even know who you are," she shot back. 

"Don't you?" he asked, his voice laced with ice. His fingers released the shackles at her back, coming up to stroke the soft flesh below her ear. He scraped the stubble of his cheek against the silk of her hair, his lips caressing the delicate shell of her ear. "Don't you know me, Camille? Have you forgotten my touch?"

Niko gave her hair a viscous tug, yanking her head back farther until her back arched painfully and she was looking into the glittering darkness of his eyes. His lips came down on hers, crushing her soft mouth in a kiss born of bruised rage. 

Her response was one of fear and indignation. She struggled against the hands that held her head fast, wriggling in an effort to escape his probing tongue. He raised his head, seeing the fear in her eyes, seeing also the anger and resentment. It was difficult to look at that accusation in her cerulean eyes, difficult to maintain his anger. Cupping her cheek in his large hand, he ducked his head again, sliding his lips over her skin and across her mouth.

There was no brutality in this kiss, as his lips massaged hers gently, tenderly, losing himself in the taste of her. When their mouths parted, he heard her sigh, felt her muscles relax slightly. He suddenly released her hair, grasping her shoulders before she could lose her balance, turning her from him. Finding the key where he'd dropped it on the floorboard, he unlocked the cuffs, releasing her wrists.

Camille alternated between massaging the circulation back into her fingers and rubbing her swollen lips. She sidled away from him, pressing her spine against the seat, her eyes darting to the handle of the back door.

"Go ahead, agapi. If you think you're fast enough, make a run for it."

"I gave my word," she retorted. "Regardless of what you think of me, I always keep my word."

"Not from where I was sitting. Who is he, Camille?"

"None of your business," she snarled. "I'm not telling you anything."

"God-damn-it," he bellowed. "You'd better answer me, or..."

"Or what? You're going to hit me again? What next? You going to tie me up and rape me? Fuck you, Niko."

"So you do know me, huh? Why the act? Hoping you could pull it off and I'd go away with my tail between my legs? Not gonna happen."

"I hate you," she whispered her voice wavering as she continued to rub her wrists. "Do you know what you did to me? Do you care?" 

Niko could still see her in the arms of the man on her porch, still see the glow of love on her face as she had smiled up at him. The rage in him refused to be appeased, refused to cool even in the face of her pain. 

"Are you gonna cry now? Hmm? You think I give a damn about your tears? I worried all that time that you mourned for me, that you ached inside the way I did. I should've known better. You were out there, whoring yourself with every man that came your way. How many, Camille? How many men did you let crawl between your thighs?"

There was dead silence from the woman on the back seat; not even the sound of breath came from her. Niko could feel the animosity, the heat of fury, as his insult struck home, wounding her deeply. Then he heard her sharp intake of air, heard her windpipe open wide, the air rushing in with a voice of its own before she let go the shriek of rage that should've burst the windows. Thank God for bulletproof glass, he thought with a wince at the decibel level just before she launched herself at him. Her fingers curled, her nails slashing out like talons aimed at his face. 

Niko barely got his hands up in time to fend off the attack, grabbing her wrists, bellowing in pain as she sank her teeth into his fingers. She tried to pull free, rearing back, placing her feet against the rear of the front seats, bucking hard. Her strength surprised him -- as much as her use of foul language did. He had no choice but to be pulled into the backseat, unless he wanted to risk snapping her delicate arm bones. A loud rush of air escaped her lungs as he landed on top of her, pulling her around until he had her pinned against the bench seat under his body.

Her hands clasped to the upholstery above her head, Camille could only writhe impotently beneath, screaming insults until she was exhausted. Finally, she lay still against the seat, panting, moaning harshly under his weight. 

"I despise you," she rasped out. "You ruined my life."

The fragrance of her, the feel of her body pressed against his groin, were too much for Niko. He bent forward until he had her breasts crushed against his chest, his face just inches from his. 

"I remember when you used to tell me that you love me. Have you changed so much? Or were you merely lying?"

Her body began to squirm again, rubbing against his, driving him insane. She screamed, arching her back in a futile attempt to throw his heavy body off her. He clamped his mouth over hers, kissing her hard enough that he tasted her blood. Pulling back, he held his lips just a hair's breath from hers, panting at the fire that had his blood boiling.

Camille raised her head, shocking him as she ground her mouth against his, arching her body once again, pushing her thighs against his groin. He released his grip on her wrists to trail his fingers down her arms and over the sensitive skin of her ribs. Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling his head back until she could look into his eyes.




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 01



"Damn you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I hate you. Damn you to hell." 

Stay tuned for Chapter 2. 



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 02



"At least you didn't use the F-bomb this time," Niko returned with a scornful sneer. He pulled himself off her, kneeling on the floor until she could sit up before joining her on the seat. "When did you start using that kind of language?"

"I learned to use it after you 'died', asshole," she spat, pushing herself as far from him as possible. 

"I thought maybe it was one of your boyfriends who taught you." Niko glared at her, still tasting her on his tongue and wanting more. Knowing that she had been with others, though, repulsed him, making him all the angrier for wanting her.

"No, Niko. I learned from the best. In fact I married his ass and then he just - poof - disappeared. And now, you're back. Lucky me." She turned her head, looking into the night before turning to face him again. "How could you do this to me, to us? Remember you asked if I lied when I told you that I loved you? I never lied, but you did. Take me back home. I can't stand to look at you."

"Well, sweet-pants," he said with exaggerated slowness, as if speaking to a small child. "I would, but right now your house is just crawling with bad guys, and they're all carrying great big guns. They're real guns, too, that go bang when the bad guys pull the trigger."

His sarcasm was not lost on her. Even in the gloom of the car interior, he could see the angry scowl on her face. He waited for the inevitable furious retort he knew she was formulating, only to be surprised by her next words.

"You're lying," she said softly, her voice barely audible. "Why would anyone want to hurt me?"

Niko brought his hand up to scoop the thick, black hair from his eyes. Dropping both hands to his knees he slouched forward, his head dipping as he muttered his response, "They want to get to me. They want to use you to force me into the open. These people will stop at nothing, Camille."

"You're not making sense. Why are they after you?"

"It's because of the line of work I'm in. They've been trying to get to me for some time. Somehow they found out about you." He couldn't face her, couldn't look at the anger and the fear he knew would be there.

"Let me get this straight," she breathed, "You ran out on me, got into something dangerous and illegal, then came back because what you do is about to get me murdered." She stopped to take a breath. "Then you beat me up and kidnapped me so that you could tell me all this bullshit and I'm supposed to thank my big, strong, dead, husband for saving little, bitty, helpless me. Do I have that about right? Did I miss anything?"

"Camille..." he tried to say, before she cut him off.

"You bastard," she hissed. "Don't speak to me. I was finally getting my life on track and you come waltzing back here, bringing your mess with you, expecting me to be happy that you're ruining my life again."

"Yeah. I see how you were getting your life back," he growled. "You had it stuck to your face on the front porch. Who is he?"

"None of your business."

"Who is he, Camille? All I have to do is make a phone call to find out. I make another phone call and the IRS confiscates his possessions and federal agents take his freedom. Who is he?" Niko's voice was low and soft, with an underlying current of malice.

"He's my fiancé, Niko. He's the man I'm going to marry, now that you're dead," she replied, just as softly. 

Laying a hand on her thigh, his long fingers spanning the width, he squeezed gently, pulling on it, trying to open her legs. "Was he good? Did he make you feel the way I do? Does he know where all those sweet spots are that make you sing?" 

"You think that matters to me? What matters is that he's here. He's not going to fake his death and abandon me with broken dreams and creditors at my door." 

Her words stung his pride more than he cared to admit. "It's seems you managed, though, didn't you? You still have a roof over your head and a man at your beck and call. Yeah, you managed just fine. You must have spread your legs for a couple of rich guys to help you pay off the debt. Is that what happened? Did you whore yourself out to the highest bidder?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he had reason to regret them. She's crazed, he thought as he found himself fending off another attack, this time from her fists and feet as they flailed out, striking blows that caused real pain. It seemed to him that he was fighting off Guanyin, the Buddha who dispenses mercy. Unlike that deity of Buddhist teachings whose many arms were held out in compassion, Camille's surplus arms were assailing him from all directions. The only thing his arms were good for was to protect his head as he was propelled off the seat to land with a thud on the hard floorboard of the car.

"Jesus Christ! " he bellowed, his voice muffled by his arms. 

She landed on top of him, further wedging his large body between the seats, still pounding out her rage on his head. He managed to latch on to one of her wrists while wrapping his powerful legs around her kicking limbs, leaving only one of her hands free to inflict more damage. She struck out with her claws, aiming for his eyes, shrieking curses that would make a sailor blush.

Her claws sank into his arm when he brought it up to protect his eyes. "What the fu..." The back of her hand colliding with his mouth silenced the curse on his lips. A feral growl rumbled up from his chest, emerging as an enraged howl. He bucked upward, throwing them both onto the seat with him on top. With a vicious yank he got control of both her arms, slamming them to the upholstery, pinning her feet with his legs.

He held her down, panting with exertion, resting his forehead against hers. Warm, sticky blood oozed from his wounded arm, as well as his mouth and the fingers she had bitten earlier. It was with some regret that he realized, belatedly, what a hellcat his wife had become.

As his breathing slowed, he could feel her struggling to get enough oxygen into her own lungs beneath his weight. "I'm going to let you up, Camille. I suggest you try to control yourself."

"Go to hell," she rasped out, each word on its own breath of air.

"Dammit, woman. Are you trying to get us both killed? We have to get out of here before someone sees us."

"Like I care," she ground out hoarsely.

"You will care, when they pull you out of here and beat you to death."

Camille began to struggle again, wriggling helplessly under his large frame, grunting painfully as he pressed down harder against her.

"Stop, God damn it," he hissed into her face. "Just stop. Fighting me isn't getting you anywhere and it's wearing us both out."

Puffing against his weight, she collapsed against the seat, letting her muscles fall lax. If looks could kill, hers would certainly be drawing blood. Niko took a deep breath, saying a silent prayer to Rita of Cascia, the patron saint of victims of spousal abuse and opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm going to let you up," he wheezed. "Don't go off again."

He slowly eased himself up, relaxing his hold, but keeping his hand on her just in case. Sitting up slowly, he wedged himself between her legs, dragging her up with him. His fingers gripped her shoulders as he watched her face for any sign of renewed attack. 

Uncertain of her next move, Niko carefully brought one hand to his wounded mouth, fingering the split lip. "Jesus," he hissed. "Are you crazy?"

"If I am then it's your fault. Get your hand off me. Get away from me. I can't stand to have you touch me."

"Coulda fooled me," he grimaced. "Seemed to me like you wanted me to handle you, the way you threw yourself at me."

Camille rolled her eyes, snorting disdainfully. "As if..." she muttered patronizingly. "I was trying to kill you, genius."

"Really?  You don't say." Niko continued to inspect his wounds, wondering where all that enraged violence had come from in her. She had always been a pacifist.

"What gives you the right to come back here and judge me?" she demanded. "You left, Niko. What I do and who I do it with are none of your business."

"I didn't leave, Camille."

"Oh, and next I suppose you're going to tell me that you really did die and have been miraculously resurrected, coming to claim what you think is rightfully yours." She folded her arms across her breasts, leaning away from him and turning to stare at the front of the car.

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"In a manner of speak..." she started, curling her lips back, sneering contemptuously. "Would you mind explaining that?"

"Sure, I'd love to," he snorted. "But right now we're kinda in a hurry." 

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Camille stated as she reached for the door handle. 

She already had the door open before Niko stopped her, pulling her back inside with the door slamming shut. Before she could start fighting again, he grabbed both her wrists, pulled them behind her to hold fast in one of his big hands as he straddled her legs, pressing her against the back of the seat with his body. Their faces were inches apart, fiery currents of electricity bridging the gap between their eyes. 

"Do you have a death wish?" he demanded. "The people looking for me aren't your neighborhood garden variety street thugs, dummy. They're hired mercenaries, trained killers who will do whatever they need to do to get what they want. They'll torture you and they'll kill you." 

"You think that scares me?" she screamed into his face. "You have no idea the hell I went through after you disappeared. Damn you, Niko. Damn you for what you did to me." Taking a deep breath, her head falling back on the top of the seat she whispered, "Don't you get it? I already died. You killed me when you left."

The quivering of her body shook him to his core. Her eyes shone brightly with unshed tears in the light of the half moon that illuminated the back window of the car. She looked utterly defeated, offering no more resistance, staring at the top of the car. Breathing in quick gasps, her lips trembled, bringing back memories of times past when he had held her this close. She had been soft and willing in those days, giving him more pleasure and joy than he'd ever thought possible.

Without realizing what he was doing, Niko lowered his head, brushing her mouth tenderly with his own. He kissed her a second time bringing his right hand up from where he'd been clutching her shoulder, caressing her cheek with the tips of his fingers. She sighed, melting against him, returning his kiss until he released her wrists. His left hand came up to tangle in the mass of tousled blond hair that crowned her head.

He raised his head, looked at the contours of her face in the silvery moonlight. This was the face of the woman he remembered, soft and alluring, her long lashes nestled against her cheeks, her lips yielding and ready for his kiss. When her lashes fluttered open to return his gaze, her eyes were darkened with passion, a color close to midnight with the radiance of moonbeams reflected in their depths. 

"I've missed holding you, Camille," he breathed as he lowered his head again.

"You're a shit, Niko."

The rage returned, her eyes flashing blue fire as she pulled her arms free from behind her, digging her claws into his chest. The tenderness was gone from this kiss, filling them both with heated desire. He snatched the hem of her blouse up, roughly burrowing his fingers under her bra until he was squeezing and pulling at the flesh underneath.

Camille pulled her mouth free, baring her teeth in a vicious grimace. "You should be horse whipped for what you did to me."

Her nails carved furrows in his scalp as she seized his hair, dragging his head down for another kiss. She ground her mouth against his, sinking her teeth into his injured lower lip. Niko howled in response, throwing her down against the seat and covering her with his body.

The taste of her skin was driving him wild. Her scent, her warmth, even her anger were driving him onward as he trailed his tongue over her throat. His senses were filled with the woman who writhed beneath him. 

Her hands found their way under his shirt to clutch at the lean muscles of his back. She hesitated only a moment when her fingers brushed against the cold steel of his handgun. Her curiosity was soon lost under his touch. Dragging her blouse up, he slid his palms over the satiny skin along her ribs to her lace-covered breasts. Her nipples were hard, poking through the lace to graze his fingertips. 

The sound that came from her throat was more a growl of anger than of pleasure, but it spurred him on all the same. Clasping her hips, he ground against her, the hardness behind his zipper connecting with her pelvic bone. She pulled open the top of his shirt so that her teeth could nip and her tongue could taste the flesh of his chest.

He worked furiously at her waistband to open her slacks, get his hand inside between her legs. She pushed against his hand when he found her wet and ready, murmuring her hatred of him. Groaning hoarsely as he explored the drenched silkiness of her sex, his free hand went to his belt. It was too difficult to open his fly with their bodies pressed together. He rose up, pulling his hand free of her, fumbling at the zipper, cursing loudly.

Camille took the opportunity to thrash out with her feet, to throw him backward against the far door. A cruel smile curled her lips at the sound of his pained grunt and the look of surprise on his face. She pulled herself up, kicking off her slacks to bare the lower half of her body.

His heart raced at the sight of her naked sex with its golden curls and pale flesh. It had been too long since he had felt her luscious body against his. He reached for his trousers again, tearing at the zipper, freeing the hard shaft behind it. 

Camille crawled along the seat, her eyes boring into his as she settled over him, straddling his thighs. The musk of her arousal filled the car and his senses. No other woman had ever had this effect on him; no other woman was as beautiful to his eyes.

He grasped her hips, lifted her body over the hardness that throbbed for her. She growled again as the head of his shaft breached her opening, seeming to find entrance into her sheath all but impossible. Her fingers stole under his shirt, hiking it up as her nails tore at his flesh. She screamed, pushing her weight down, forcing him into her body in one desperate motion. 

He was buried deep within her at last, the soft flesh around his unyielding phallus throbbed tightly with a life of its own. She rode him, taking out her anger on his body, growling at him. His staff rammed unmercifully into her flesh until her head banged against the roof of the car, causing her to grunt loudly.

Before she could protest, Niko had her turned, on her hands and knees, so that he could bend over her back, taking her from behind. He heard her cry out when he entered her roughly, felt her buck back against him. There was no way that he would be able to hold out long. His fingers reached under her, between her legs, finding that hard little knot of pleasure and massaging it.

Camille began to shudder, her muscles tightening around him as he lunged deeper. She threw back her head, crying out in heated sobs as she was swept away on the waves of release. A moment later he drove into her, holding there as he spilled his seed deep within her. Her body gave way, collapsing under his and dragging him down with her.

Her breaths came in short gasps under his weight as she turned her head to the side. "I hate you, Niko. I hate you for abandoning me and I hate you for coming back."

Pulling the hair back from her eyes, Niko kissed the side of her head, his heart growing heavy. "I know, agapi. I know."

He pushed himself off her with reluctance. The smile on his face was one of remorseful self-condemnation. As he opened the door and stepped onto the rutted dirt of the cornfield to adjust his clothing, he wondered how things in his life had gotten so out of hand. There was no going back to the time when she had smiled at him with love burning in her eyes. All that was left was to try to keep her safe until the current danger could be resolved.

Camille still had not moved on the back seat when he climbed behind the wheel. One glance over his shoulder told him that she still lay, half-naked and shivering, where he'd left her. 

"You'd better get dressed," he told her, but still, she didn't move. 

It wasn't until he pulled out of the cornfield and back onto the highway that she sat up, reaching a shaky hand for her clothing. He watched in the mirror as she reared back in the seat, pulling her underwear and then her slacks over her long legs before adjusting her bra and re-buttoning her blouse. She found her tennis shoes on the floor where Olan had tossed them earlier, slipped her feet in and tied them with jerking movements.

Her head turned to stare out the window into the dim moonlight, refusing to meet his gaze reflected in the mirror. There was nothing in the car but cruel silence and the tension of antipathy, the emotion emanating from her as assuredly as the pain it hid. With a sigh he focused his attention on the road ahead and the situation at hand. 

He would need to find someplace safe to hide during the bright hours of daylight and a different vehicle for the next leg of their journey. It was going to be a long and tiring trip with the angry woman who was once his loving wife, but he was determined to make her feel that love for him again, to see that light burning in her eyes. First, however, he had to keep her alive and well away from the forces that would use her to get to him.

It seemed as though they had been on the road for hours before he pulled off State Highway 164 onto a narrow gravel road. It was pocked with chuckholes and ruts, the car lurching and pitching as it moved along at a slow pace. One look in the mirror told Niko that Camille was curious, surveying her surroundings with interest. She refused to ask him any questions, though. She had not said a word since the incident in the cornfield. The silent treatment was getting old fast. He had spoken to her several times along the way, trying to elicit some reaction. His overtures were met with the same stony silence and no acknowledgement. If she wanted silence then that's what she would have, he decided. He wouldn't volunteer anything to her.

The car pulled to a stop along an overgrown strip of dried mud and gravel. Niko shut off the headlamps, plunging them into the dark void of night. The moon had set, marking the approach of day that would leave them vulnerable to those that hunted them as game. Time was running short and they still needed someplace to hide themselves. He worked fast, ordering her to stay in the car as he pulled a flashlight from the glove box and stepped into the darkness. 

Stumbling and nearly falling over the deadfall of branches underfoot, he searched with the beam of the small light until he found what he was looking for, a large pile of brush. The brush concealed the form of a green Ford Taurus, placed there for just such an emergency. He and Olan had several such vehicles stashed throughout the country, as well as caches of money and other necessities. A man on the run has to be prepared for whatever this way of life would hold. 

It didn't take long to clear away the brush and find the key hidden in the undercarriage of the car. He climbed inside and tried the engine, breathing a sigh of relief when it fired on the second try. Leaving the motor running he returned to the Impala to check on Camille. She was still sitting in the back seat, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes staring blindly ahead. 

He opened the trunk lid, removed his gear and stowed it in the other car. In the back of the Taurus he found a small gun, a few hundred dollars in cash and a small box of supplies in the hidden compartment just above the spare tire. He had everything required to see them on their way. Now all he needed was the cooperation of his wife to get her into the new car so that he could dispose of the old.




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 02



Camille didn't acknowledge his presence when he opened the back door of the car. "Camille," he said softly, extending his hand. "I need you to come with me."

She remained silent, staring straight ahead as if he hadn't spoken. Sighing, rolling his eyes heavenward and saying a silent prayer for patience, he reached in to grab her arm. Quick as a flash, she jerked back away from him, reaching for the handle of the opposite door.

"Goddamnit," he hissed as he wrapped his fingers around her slender ankle.

With a vicious tug, he pulled her toward him until he could reach her arms and yank her out of the car. He brought her upright, his face only an inch from hers. He could feel her glare burning his skin, could feel the rage that still smoldered in her body.

"You don't have to like me, agapi, but you do have to comply. If I have to, I'll bind and gag you and toss you in the trunk." He gave her a malicious shake to punctuate his words. "You will get into that car over there, one way or another. Do you hear me?"

The two locked eyes in a battle of wills. Finally deciding he'd had enough, he pulled his wife across the rough ground, jerking her upward when she stumbled. He opened the driver's door of the Taurus, tossing her across the seat before shutting off the engine and removing the keys.

"Stay in this car. Don't get out. Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back," he told her as she pushed herself upright against the far door. 

Shaking his head at her cold demeanor, he returned to the other vehicle. He gazed out over the calm, flowing waters of the Mississippi River. Thoughts of the past came back, reminding him of the plans he had once made with his wife, plans of buying a boat and exploring the waterways of the Midwest. All of that was over now, all of it gone on the whims of The Fates that controlled his destiny. 

He picked up a large rock from the ground nearby, placed it on his lap when he climb into the old Impala. Firing the engine to life, he opened the windows of the car and placed the rock on the accelerator, gunning the motor. He stepped outside the car, reaching through the open door to drop the gear lever down into drive. Watching as the car raced down the bank and broke into the water with a loud splash, Niko wondered if he would be able to protect his wife. As the Impala disappeared under the muddy water he knew that life on the run with Camille was going to be one of the biggest trials he would have to face since reluctantly taking his position with the Company.

Confident that the old car was thoroughly concealed, Niko returned to the new one, finding the cold woman where he'd left her on the seat. She refused to look at him as he inserted the key in the ignition. 

"We have to find a safe place to hide," he muttered as he pulled the car onto the muddied path. She snorted in return, the only admission that she knew he'd spoken. "Well, looky there, the lady acknowledges my presence. How kind of you."

When she offered no further response, he backed up, turning the car around and heading back to the highway. Once they were on the highway, Niko headed south to Gladstone, Illinois, and then west to the river road. 

"If you want to ignore me, that's fine with me," he muttered sourly. "I prefer silence to your screaming tantrums, anyway."

His insult failed to rouse any retort from her as she continued to stare straight ahead. Stealing a sidelong glance at her, he could see the fatigue on her face, the strain of their unhappy reunion etched in the pallor of her skin. He felt true remorse for what she was going through, had felt it first hand himself, once upon a time. 

Then he remembered the way she had put her arms around the man on her front porch and the kiss she had given him. He remembered hearing her voice as she called out to the stranger, telling him how much she loved him -- the way she had once done when they had been happily married. How many men had she bedded since he had gone away?

Upon seeing the glow of the approaching dawn to the left, Niko took a gravel road that led along the banks of the Mississippi. The road was rough, showing signs of recent flooding. The car skidded to a sudden halt, nearly sending Camille crashing into the windshield. She shot him a baleful glance as she righted herself, watching as he shifted into reverse and slung his arm over the seat as he turned to look behind them. He backed down the road, stopping again to survey their surroundings. 

On the edge of the water stood a cabin on stilt-like pillars to avoid the flood waters that came up nearly every spring. It was darkened, suggesting that no one was there. 

"Stay here," Niko commanded, bringing a flush of anger to Camille's lovely face.

He quickly made his way up the staircase that led to the door of the old building. It was rickety, the boards creaking under his feet as he crouched low, reaching the door and peering in the window. It looked as though no one had been there in a long time. The place would have to do, as long as he could find someplace to hide the car.

He pulled a small leather case out of his hip pocket, opening it to reveal a set of small tools designed to open locks. The lock on this door posed no problem for him, opening with minimal effort. Taking a few moments to explore the inside, he discovered that the electricity had been shut off and there was a thick layer of dust on everything. He found one small bedroom with a passable bed. This will work, he decided as he returned to the car to get his wife.

"We'll stay here, Camille," he said as he opened her door. 

He had to pull her arm to get her moving, and drag her to the wobbly staircase. Pushing her along, he managed to get her inside, telling her to stay put while he hid the car. It didn't take him long to hide the vehicle in the overgrowth of brush near the cabin. He grabbed the supplies they would need out of the trunk and returned to find Camille standing in the ramshackle kitchen where he had left her. She was hugging herself, shivering in the dank chill of the cabin's interior.

He cursed under his breath as he remembered her jacket, laying in the floorboard of the Impala at the bottom of the river. Pulling off his shirt he wrapped it around her shoulders only to see her throw it off onto the dusty floor. He snatched the garment out of the dust, giving it a vicious shake to dislodge the dirt. With a satisfied smirk he watched her sneeze copiously at the cloud of dust he'd stirred.

"Serves you right," he said as he grabbed her arm and steered her to the back of the little cabin. 

She turned to glare at him when he shoved her into the small bedroom, her eyes flashing defiance at the sight of the small bed. He couldn't help the mocking grin on his face as he opened his bedroll and spread it on the bare mattress, before shoving her down to sit on it. 

He opened the small box of supplies and set it next to her. "Eat something," he ordered as he left the room to make a final check outside the building.

When Niko returned he found Camille standing, staring out the room's one small window at the sun that was breaking the horizon.

"Get away from the window," he barked. 

She didn't move, didn't acknowledge that she'd heard him, though he knew she had. He grabbed her arm roughly, spinning her around and forcing her back down on the bed. She squealed in pain at his handling, rubbing her bruised flesh vigorously after he released her. He could see the purplish color spreading over her skin, felt guilt for the accusation in her eyes. 

"Now, eat. We need to get a little sleep before nightfall. We should be safe here for the day."

"I'm not hungry," she groused, pushing at the box on the bed. "And I'm not sleeping with you."

"I can keep us alive, Camille," he whispered. "But I need your cooperation. If you keep fighting me, all you'll get out of it is both of us killed. We have a long way to go before we'll be even marginally safe. Work with me, will ya?" He ran a tired hand through his hair, scooping it away from his eyes. "Why does everything have to be a fight with you?"

"Because that's the legacy you left me with, you asshole," she snapped. "I had to learn to fight to survive. I had no one and nothing except an empty promise you once made me. You promised you'd always be there for me, remember? Remember those words, Niko? Do you?"

"Yeah, I remember," he ground out. "I also remember you telling me that no other man would ever touch you. I guess we're both a couple of liars."

For a moment he thought she'd lash out again, thought that she'd bare her claws and teeth and go in for the kill. But she only stared at him, a brief flash of forbidding pain in her eyes before she masked it with the rage that was always so near the surface. When he reached for her, not knowing whether it was to prove his authority over her or to try to comfort and soothe the hurt he'd inflicted, she recoiled, drawing back against the wall as if burned.

"Don't touch me," she hissed. "I can't stand to have your hands on me."

"You didn't seem to mind so much a while ago," he snapped back. "I think you really like it when I touch you."

He saw it again, that hurt on her face that gouged at his heart. She didn't hide it this time, let him see how deeply he'd wounded her. "You're a real bastard, Niko."

"I know. Lie down and get some sleep. I'm going to keep watch for a bit, make sure no one was following us."

Niko left the room, no longer able to stand how much the whole situation was costing him emotionally. His wife had changed, was no longer the sweet, loving woman he had last known. She had suffered, her wounds covered with the brittle exterior of coldness and anger. He had done this to her, that much was certain, but she could show a little gratitude for his having saved her life.



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 03



Camille awoke, stiff, sore and confused. Nothing looked familiar to her in the dim light that filtered from the small window, reflecting in the dust particles that floated up in clouds with each movement of her groaning muscles. What had happened to her and where was she?

It took a moment for her to pull herself upright and swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She tried to clear her fuzzy head, to figure out what was happening. Something caught in her memory, but she couldn't quite get a handle on it. Her body felt bruised and strained, as if she had been in an accident. 

The night before and the morning after came flooding back in a tidal wave of emotions. Niko, she thought. Alive. 

Looking at her surroundings, she saw the box containing packages of dried food and bottled water. A shirt hung over the foot of the bed, obviously belonging to the man who had taken her from her home the previous night. She pulled herself away, stood to step back from the garment as if it were about to attack.

She was thirsty, so thirsty that her throat felt like it had closed. Pulling one of the bottles of water from the box, she opened it and drained it completely before setting it back down. The water helped to clear her mind, to strengthen her resolve. She needed to get away. 

There was no telling what had happened to her husband in the years that he was gone, but he was definitely not the same man that she had known. This Niko was cold, calculating, almost crazed at times. He frightened her with his rages and his insistence that something or someone was out to get them. The man was wallowing in paranoia and would likely get them both killed. 

Camille stifled a sneeze, trying to remain as quiet as possible. She had no idea where Niko was, but she didn't want to alert him that she was awake. One glance out the window told her that she had slept the day away; soon it would be dark. 

A plan began to form in her mind, a way to escape her husband's madness. She would have to slip away, out of the cabin and into the night, before he knew she was awake. As she remembered, there had been only one exit to the building and Niko was likely guarding it. Looking out the window again, she could see a good twenty-foot drop to the ground below. She'd be lucky if she didn't break her neck when she hit, so that idea was out of the question. 

Slipping past the table to the bedroom door, Camille peered around the corner, looking for her husband. She couldn't see him, though she heard the unmistakable creak of the floorboards in a room to the left. That suited her well as the door to freedom lay to the right. Taking one more look around to make sure she wouldn't be seen, she took a deep breath before creeping through the doorway into the hall. 

She was just rounding the corner into the kitchen, reaching for the doorknob when a hand grasped the back of her neck, causing her to jump. She would have squealed had it not been for the other hand that clamped over her mouth, silencing her. Her heart had jumped into her throat, making it impossible to swallow, or even breathe, as a mouth nuzzled against her ear.

"Going somewhere, wife?" Niko whispered. The name he called her sounded like a curse on his lips. 

His grip was like steel as she tried to pry his fingers loose. She needed more oxygen than what she was getting past his big fingers into her half-blocked nostrils. He held his grasp on her, tightening each time she tried to pull free.

"I told you I would tie you up if I have to, but you will cooperate."

His words were only half-understood as Camille began to fight him in earnest, panic causing her to claw at the hand that was quickly closing off all air. The hand that had been holding the back of her neck snaked around her waist, pulling her from her feet. She kicked ineffectively at the legs behind her; her arms reached around, slapping at his face and pulling his hair.

She felt her body weaken as black spots exploded in her vision. It seemed as if she were being sucked down a long tunnel with only a pinpoint of light far ahead of her, growing more and more distant with each passing moment. Then she was no longer fighting him, floating upward as the world around her receded farther.

Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, precious air rushed into her burning lungs. She felt the hardness of the floor as she was lowered with a hand on the back of her head. Gulping hard to feed her oxygen-starved body, she concentrated on calming the muscles that quivered throughout her limbs.

"Camille... Camille, breathe, agapi," an anguished voice spoke from a great distance. The voice was familiar, someone who cared. "Camille, I'm sorry. I didn't realize... Please, baby, open your eyes."

Groaning softly at the fire in her lungs and throat, she turned her head away from the voice, keeping her eyes closed as she tried to get her mind around Niko's attempt at killing her. She felt his hand on her hair as he stroked her head, trying to get her to look at him.

"Why?" she whispered as she turned her face to him, opening her eyes to see the stricken expression that he wore. 

"I... I'm sorry, Camille. I didn't know you couldn't breathe," he replied softly. His hand was on top of her head, his thumb stroking gently over her brow. "I was trying to keep you quiet. Please, agapi mou. I..."

"Never call me that again," she said as she pushed herself up dizzily, slapping his hand away. "I am not your love."

Niko pulled himself up from the floor, standing to his full height, his expression cooling to one of stony determination as he watched her. She could see the muscles of his naked chest expand as he wrestled for control of his emotions. Then she noticed the scars on his body, cruel looking marks that hadn't been there when they had been married.

"Get ready. We'll be leaving as soon as it's dark."

Camille turned her head away from him, gazing into the murky room without seeing. "What happened to you, Niko?" she asked softly, not really expecting an answer. "You've changed so much. There was once a time when you would've cut off your own arm before raising a hand in anger to me."

"I know, ag... Camille," he stammered, censoring his words. "I wish we could go back in time, get our lives back, but it's not possible."

"How did you get like this?" She looked at the man that had once been the center of her universe. His handsome face, his hair, were the same as she'd once known, though his body had changed in appearance with the scars. It was his eyes that had been most altered. They were cold and cynical, the laughter and love in them gone. "Where'd you go all those years ago?"

He walked to her slowly, extending his fingers to pull her from the floor. Refusing to take the hand that hung in the air between them, she scrambled back from him before standing on her own. Facing him, she could see the disappointment and resignation etched on his face.

"That day, when I left for work," he said as he dropped into a wobbly chair, the wood creaking under his weight. "I thought it was just like any other day. Something happened that day, Camille."

"What? What could've happened that would make you just disappear without a word?" 

"I didn't abandon you. Please believe that. I didn't have any choice. They told me that you'd be killed if they knew I was still alive."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "Who are 'they?' And why would they kill me? You're not making any sense."

He shoved his fingers through his hair, dragging it from his eyes to look up at her. "I stumbled onto something that day, at work. Something that implicates Senator Hyde in some pretty ugly shit." 

Camille's mouth dropped open, shock written on her face. She'd never thought that his job as a local aide to the U.S. Senator, Danny Hyde, as a reason for his disappearance. "But Hyde is a good man, you said so yourself. He's been in office for three terms now. I know there was that rumor about his, uh, activities with those women, but it was only a rumor, right?"

"I'm afraid it's much worse than that. Anyway, I overheard a conversation and made a phone call. You remember Rob Phelps?"

"Yeah," Camille answered, wondering what Niko's old friend could have to do with it. "He looked after me when you..." she swallowed hard, remembering the horror of those first days without Niko.

"He did, huh? How good of him," Niko snapped, his dark eyes sparkling malevolently in the failing light of dusk.

"Would you reign in that Greek jealousy of yours? Jeez, the guy was traumatized when we all thought you were dead. He did nothing more than any friend would do. It's not like he ever made a play for me or anything."

"Of course he didn't," Niko retorted. "The man's a fag."

"Just because he didn't hit on me doesn't mean he's..."

Niko cut her off with a look. "No, I mean he's gay. For real. He told me not too long after college. He doesn't like women. He kept it a secret because of his career with the FBI."

"Then why were you so pissed when I told you he took care of me? And he doesn't work for the FBI anymore. He quit about a year after... that day." She could feel her brows drawing together tightly as she frowned at her husband.

"Yeah, I know. I'm pissed because he's the bastard that I called after I heard what the Senator was into. I can't prove it yet, but I know Rob's the one who put the word out on me. If he was nosing around you after I was gone then he could only be after one thing -- to find out what you knew."

"Well, relax, because I thought it was just an accident like everyone else. I honestly don't understand any of this."

"Just try to stay with me here. I called Rob, told him what I heard. He told me to keep my mouth shut and meet him at the boat docks, where we used to fish. I went there but it wasn't Rob that was waiting for me. It was an ambush. I was shot. They stuffed me back in the car and shoved it off the docks. I can remember the water coming in and trying to get out. I don't remember too much after that.

"When I woke up I was in some private hospital and the staff was calling me a name I'd never heard before, Anthony Portello. They said I'd been out for three weeks, in a coma. When I tried to get to a phone to call you, they put me in restraints. Then these guys in suits came in, feeding me a bunch of bullshit about how my country needed me and how their plan was the only way to protect my wife. Makes me sick to think about it now."

Camille stepped forward slowly, unfolding her arms from her chest, sinking to her knees in front of him. "You were shot?" she whispered, horrified.

Niko straightened from his slouched position, allowing her eyes to see the scars on his body in the gloom of twilight. Her breath caught in her throat as she raised a trembling hand to one puckered scar on his chest. She touched it lightly, before looking at the rest of his torso. She counted four bullet wounds and two longer scars that could only have been caused by surgery and sutures. Two of the bullets had hit him in the chest, one in the belly and the last in his left ribcage. 

"That one went all the way through," he said as he captured her fingers against his chest.

Placing her other hand on the side of his face, she felt her heart soften and suddenly wanted to be in his arms. "The police told me you had gotten drunk and driven off the ramp. They said they found a whiskey bottle in the car."

"You know me better than that," he whispered, watching her eyes intently.

"That's what I told them. I told them they were wrong. No one would listen to me."

"That's the nature of a cover-up, Baby," he said, nuzzling against her hand. "God, I missed you, Camille. All I could think about was getting back to you."

She sat back on her heels, pulling her hands down to rest on his thighs. "I missed you too, Niko. My world stopped that day. I tried to find out what happened to you but the police had given up the case. They wrote you off as just another drunk driver, said that your body probably washed downstream or got hung up on a snag and was stuck underwater. They just stopped looking. Every time I tried to get them to do their jobs I hit a brick wall."

"So you finally had to give up," Niko supplied, his attention dropping to the ring on her left hand. He took her fingers in his, grazing the top of the small solitaire with the pad of his thumb. "Is he good to you, Camille?"

"Yes." Her voice wavered at the sorrow she saw in his face. If only there were some way to take that pain away and right all the wrong. "He was there when I was at my lowest. I would never have survived without him. He... he saved me, Niko. I don't know how to explain it, other than that."

"Then I owe him a lot," he murmured. He held her hand up, buried his face against it, kissing her palm. "I'm sorry, Baby, so sorry," he lamented against her skin before pressing her fingers to his cheek. His eyes held every emotion he'd experienced over the last twenty-four hours as he spoke. "When I got to your house last night, I saw you with him. I almost lost my mind, seeing you kissing him. I wanted to tear his heart out for touching you. I had no right to treat you the way I did. I just couldn't stand it. Please tell me you'll forgive me some day."

Pulling her hand free, she stood, pacing away from him. She could still feel the heat of his lips on her flesh as she tried to collect her thoughts. "I don't know what I'm supposed to forgive you for. Is it the way you've treated me, taking me from my home and my life, your disappearance and the hell I went through, or that I'm now supposedly in some kind of danger because of you? I don't even know if I believe a word of it. It all sounds so far-fetched."

She had her back to him, hugging herself with her shaking arms, trying to get her mind around what was happening. Before she heard his voice, she felt his heat as he stepped up behind her. The warmth of his palms covered her shoulders, sliding downward to encircle her body. 

"I know what it sounds like, Sweetheart. I'd give anything if it weren't true." 

His lips stroked her ear as he spoke, a caress that sent shivers down her spine. It took all her strength to pull away when all she wanted to do was melt against him. 

"Is it true, Niko?" she asked as she turned to face him. "You're not crazy, are you?"

His answer was a harsh, mirthless laugh that twisted his face into a grimace. "I might be, Camille. I have no idea anymore." He looked around at the gathering darkness before speaking again. "We need to go. Just stay with me until I get you somewhere safe. Please."

Camille nodded, though she didn't know why. If he were telling the truth then she would be in trouble if she went home again. Some of what he said had made sense and certainly answered a lot of open questions she still had about his disappearance as well as the difficulty she'd had in getting anyone to listen to her. On the other hand, it all seemed so implausible. How could any of it be true?

"I'll go with you, Niko. For now." 

"Thank you," he returned, looking as if he wanted something more from her.

Niko left to gather the things from the bedroom, returning with his shirt hanging open on his long frame and the sleeping bag draped over his shoulder. He set the grub box on a table so he could pack the bedroll. With that task completed, he handed her the items to carry, drawing his gun from its holster behind his back.

Camille stared wide-eyed at the weapon. "What's that for?" 

"Just in case," Niko replied, checking his weapon. "Stay behind me and stay low."

He peered out the window before opening the door, holding the gun out in front of him. With a quick motion of his head, he told her to follow as he stepped out onto the staircase, crouching low as he lithely crept down the steps. Camille kept pace with him, finding herself hurrying in the same bent gate, thinking how infectious his paranoia was. She felt like a complete imbecile crawling along the darkened shadows in a near duck-walk. 

Niko led her into the brush close to the riverbank, where the car waited for them. With quick, precise motions, he deposited the box and the bedroll into the trunk and pulled another item out before guiding her to the front of the car, glancing over his shoulder periodically the entire way. He opened the door for her, closing it softly, almost noiselessly, behind her.

"How many guns do you need?" she asked as he slid through the driver's door, placing the item he'd pulled from the trunk onto the seat.

"That's not for me," he answered. "It's for you."

Her chin shot up, her eyes narrowing. "Hell, no. I told you I'd go with you but I'm not committing a felony just because you're delusional."

The engine turned over, purring to life as he turned to look her in the eye. "It's not the first time you handled a gun, Camille. I remember when we were kids you used to go to the gun range with your dad."

"Yeah, and that was just target shooting with my father. I never carried a concealed weapon and I don't intend to start now."

Sighing, he put the vehicle into gear, pulling out of the camouflaging brush and into the open. "I would feel better knowing that you're armed. If something happens to me you may need to protect yourself."

"You're certifiable."

"No, Camille, just prepared."

"Where are we going?" she asked, changing the subject.

"St. Louis. We're going to meet my partner and decide our next move."

"Do you think we could stop somewhere? I need a shower and these clothes are filthy. You could stand a good washing yourself," she grimaced, wrinkling her nose as if he smelled bad.

Grinning like the Niko of her memory, he winked at her. "I kinda like smelling you on my body."

A rude grunt was the only answer he got, as a deep blush crept up her neck and into her face. She heard his amused chuckle, turned to look out the passenger window. His eyes were on her; she felt the intensity of it.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly.

"Can't we just forget what happened in the other car?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"Why? What's wrong with a man making love to his wife?" he asked in return. "Well, fucking is a better term for that, I suppose," he added after a moment. "It wasn't exactly sweet and tender, was it?"

She was silent for a few minutes, contemplating his words and the act they had committed the night before. "I'm not your wife anymore, Niko," she murmured painfully. "I'm getting married soon -- to someone else."

"Like hell," his voice ground out, bringing her head around to look at him. His jaw twitched ominously as he continued, "You already have a husband, Sweetheart. You're so worried about breaking the law... When this mess is over I won't be dead anymore. I'll have my life back."

"When this mess is over, I'll marry Doug and start a family." She stopped talking, jumping when Niko's fist collided with the steering wheel. 

"What about us? You just turn your back on what we had?"

"You did." Her words were soft but laced with the anger that was rising quickly. 

He fell into a stony silence with the skin of his knuckles turning white under the strain of his grip on the wheel. Camille sighed, raking her fingers through the tangles in her hair. The tresses were gritty against her skin, making her wish again for a shower and the comfort of her own home. She thought better of saying anything, though, in the face of the animosity that oozed from the man next to her.

Finally, feeling as if a dam were about to break she opened her mouth to speak. "Niko, I need you to pull over."

"Forget it," he growled.

"I'm serious. Pull over. I have to pee."

"Make it quick," he ordered as he pulled off the road along side a farm field. 

Snorting derisively at him, she exited the car, stepping into the brush nearby. When she returned she found him watering the front tire of the car, reminding her of a dog marking his territory. With a roll of her eyes, she got back into the car to wait, wondering again if he were crazy.




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 03



When Niko climbed back in and put the car in gear, she turned to speak to him. "Tell me more about all this. Just exactly what is Hyde into and why does it affect you?"

"Plutonium," he muttered. "Spent plutonium."

She laughed out loud, shaking her head. "You're joking. This is like some kind of bad spy novel. What does he have to do with plutonium?"

Niko turned to fix her with a somber glare, silencing her laughter. "Plutonium is a by-product of nuclear power generation. The state of Illinois has a lot of nuclear powered generators."

"Yeah? So?"

"So, the good Senator has been supplying terrorist groups with plutonium. Those groups use the stuff for making 'dirty bombs' for their operations."

Camille's face registered the shock that she was experiencing. "You mean that son of a bitch is helping the people who...?" 

"Yep. So far it's been small amounts -- just one or two shipments a year -- but things are starting to heat up now. After 9/11 the pressure has been on pretty heavy."

"But I still don't see how that effects you."

Niko switched on the windshield wipers, swiping the glass clear of a large junebug that had nose-dived into a splattering suicide. "That day, in his office, I overheard a phone conversation. I was about to deliver some documents to him when I heard him talking. He was on his cell phone, sounded pissed. He told whoever he was talking to that he was done taking orders. Then he said, 'The plutonium will be there, just make sure that your people don't fuck it up.'"

"I wasn't sure I'd heard him right, so I stayed behind the door and listened some more. He said that he was afraid of getting caught, and that he'd had enough. There was more to it, too, but the gist of it was that he was involved in illegally diverting shipments of spent radioactive material that were marked for storage in Nevada. We think he diverts small amounts, one or two rods at a time, and then sends them overseas. 

"We can't connect him directly to the activities, but we're sure he's behind it and we know he's not acting alone. Whoever is pulling his strings has to be very well-financed, most likely someone within our own borders."

"This is insane, Niko," Camille hissed incredulously. "I don't want to believe this shit."

"Believe it or not, it's the game in play. This is really serious stuff."

"But..." Camille stammered, trying to get her mind around all that he'd just told her. "I don't understand why anyone would come after me. What's this got to do with me?"

"You, my darling wife, are a pawn in the game. After I woke up in that hospital and the suits came in, they told me that I was missing and presumed dead. They said that Hyde had some kind of memorial service for me and that you were safe as long as I stayed dead. They told me if it were ever known that I was alive, the people behind it all would use you to get to me. They kept at me, talking for hours until I started to believe what they told me. I was to join ranks with them, 'fight the good fight' for my country." Niko snorted loudly, shaking his head at his own foolishness and naiveté. 

"I was an idiot," he continued, feeling his own shame. "I swallowed it all -- hook, line and sinker. They told me to stick with them for a few weeks after I got out of the hospital and I could have my life back," he took a breath, turning to gaze at his wife. "I thought I would be gone for a little while and then I'd have you back."

He turned his eyes back to the road. "Then things got out of hand. We did everything we could, but we still couldn't catch Hyde in the act or find enough evidence to corner him and make him talk. We don't know who his contacts are. We don't know who's behind it all. Every time one of the operatives gets close, he ends up dead."

Camille gasped, the gravity of the situation finally settling in her mind. "You have to get away, Niko, before they kill you."

"And go where? Do what? Everything I've done was so that I could get back to you. I have been through hell trying to get to the bottom of it all and find my way home. It's better they kill me," he muttered.

"Don't say that, Niko. I won't listen to it."

He turned to look at her again, showing her the loneliness and pain he'd suffered for so long. "If I thought you meant that, I'd carry you off right now. I'd take you to another country and start our lives all over again."

"I care, Niko. You were the center of my world once."

"But not anymore. You've moved on."

She didn't answer him, turning away to watch the white lines on the side of the highway speed by outside the car. How could she tell him what was in her heart when she didn't even know herself. The past years of her life had been predicated on the knowledge that he was gone and would never return. Now, here he was, sitting beside her and tearing her away from the life she had struggled to rebuild.

"I'm sorry, Camille. That was unfair," he sighed. "That's okay," she whispered. "I know it has to be hard for you."

Niko cleared his throat, "I came back because we'd received word that they found out I was alive. I was working as an operative, but they didn't know who I was. Then one of our guys was caught. They made him talk before they killed him.

"The minute I heard about it, I lit out. I panicked. All I knew was that I had to get to you before they did. Stupid of me. Now I'm listed as a rogue agent.

"I should've known that they'd have you staked out, waiting for me to make a dumb move like that, but I wasn't thinking straight. I didn't trust the Company to keep you safe. They were waiting for me last night, the 'bad guys.' I got lucky. We got you out before they could move in."

Camille was silent, contemplating all that he was telling her and trying to make sense of it. Then she looked at him, turning her body and pulling one leg up on the seat to wrap her arms around. "Exactly what is this company that you work for?"

"The Company," he said, a derisive note in his voice. "It's super-secret spy shit that no one knows about, maybe not even the president. They call themselves an intelligence agency, but it's nothing more than a collection of morons with over-inflated egos trying to justify their over-sized budgets. If they had someone with half a brain running the outfit, we'd have world peace and feed the hungry with the surplus."

"You sound pretty jaded."

"I am. I've been fighting their bureaucracy for the better part of a decade."

"Is it the CIA?"

"No," he scoffed. "CIA has nothing on us."

"How many spy agencies does this country have?" she asked, exasperated.

"More than you'd guess. It's crazy. The bureaus are pitted against one other, each fighting for its fair share of the pie and each trying to be the first to break whatever faction we're all supposed to be fighting. Instead of working together, they throw out misinformation and false leads and sneak around behind each other's backs."

"So, let me get this straight. You overheard a conversation, called Rob Phelps, and you think he sent you into an ambush. You were shot, dumped in the river and left for dead. Then someone must have gotten you out, put you in a hospital where this 'company' drafted you, telling you that you had no choice. Then you spent the last eight years trying to stop terrorists."

"That's it in a nutshell."

"Niko," Camille said, her mind still trying to comprehend the magnitude of their position. "I can't run like this. I have to get home. Surely..."

"No, Camille. You can't go home. They'll kill you if you do."

"I'm willing to take that chance. It's my life."

"Are you willing to take that chance with my life?" he asked, his face somber. "I'll stay with you. You know that. I'd never leave you in danger."

"Niko, you can't stay. I..." She stopped, pulling her hair back from her eyes, wanting to find words that would lessen the blow but knowing there weren't any. "I have a new life now. Doug and I have plans for the future. I'm sorry, I really am, but that's the way of it."

She saw the pain in his eyes, the disappointment that surfaced just before he turned his attention back to the road before them. "I won't stand in your way, Camille. I know it's too late for us, but I can't let anything happen to you. Your future and your Doug will just have to wait."

"I'm sorry, Niko," she murmured, feeling guilty and sad. Remembering those months that they had spent as husband and wife and the years before when they'd dated. She'd thought they'd be together forever. Their connection had been so strong they'd always known what the other was thinking or feeling. "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

His head snapped around, his eyes glittering in the dashboard lights. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, because you look like someone just grabbed your nuts in a vise, for one," she retorted. "You've changed a lot, but I still know you, Niko. Besides, it doesn't make any sense that anyone would still be looking for you if all you had on them was one side of a phone conversation that took place almost a decade ago."

"You always were a smart person, Camille, but consider this. I've been hounding those sons of bitches for years now and they want me stopped. If they have to use you to do it, they will"

"Okay, so what's in St. Louis?" 

"A pit stop. There's a place we use there, a safe house of sorts. We can get some rest and you can have your shower. We'll see if we can find you some clean clothes, too." 

He turned his head to smile at her, looking like a small boy waiting for approval. She remembered that look all too well. It was one of the things that had endeared him to her all those years ago. Sudden thoughts of Doug stole into her mind as she smiled back. He would be frantic by now, wondering what had happened to her. If she could just get to a phone, call him and let him know that she was all right. Then she wondered if he could be in danger as well. He would have to be warned.

"Once we get some rest, Olan and I will see what we can come up with. We have to try to get back to the Ranch, where we can keep you safe."

"What ranch? Where the hell is it?"

"It's a code name for HQ. It's on the East Coast. We need to get there before the first of the week so we won't be able to rest long in St. Louis."

"Why's it so important we get there by next week?"

"I'm a rogue agent, remember? If I don't report soon, the Company will be sending goons out for me."

"Wait a minute. You mean we're on the run from terrorists and the feds? What've you gotten me into? What happens if the goons get to you before you report in?"

Niko's eyes, cold and barren, told her all she needed to know. In them she saw the death that awaited him should he fail to follow through. A fist of ice wrapped around her heart, dragging it into the pit of her stomach. His confident smile, meant to reassure her, fell somewhat short of the mark.

"Don't worry, Camille," he declared, patting her knee. "We'll get there in time. As soon as we meet up with Olan and get some rest, we'll head out."

At that moment, a man was folding a piece of paper while he struggled to remain upright on a hard linoleum floor. He winced in pain as he lifted a shaking hand, stained red with his own blood, to unlock the small box nestled in the wall before him. The strip of cloth he'd ripped from his shirt and stuffed in the hole in his shoulder had soaked through and the blood was now spilling down his front, small crimson drops hitting the floor. 

He stuffed the paper in the box, closed and locked the little metal door before shambling out into the night. His head was spinning, the world around him pitching precariously with each step he took. He'd need to stop the flow of blood soon or he would grow weaker, pass out somewhere and die.



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 04



"Laclede's Landing?" It was more of a statement than a question. "Remember when we used to come here..." Camille stopped, not wanting to dredge up those memories of happier times. 

"Yeah, I remember," he smiled, a wistful light dancing in his eyes. "I loved to dance with you."

She felt the heated blush that suffused her skin at the way his arms used to hold her close, their bodies swaying to the soft bluesy sounds of the bands that played in that other life. When they'd danced together the entire world around them would disappear, leaving only their two bodies touching and their two hearts beating together. 

Clearing her throat, she turned her attention to the scene outside her window. It was late and the streets were alive with people. It was closing time for the myriad of pubs in St. Louis' "party" district. Crowds flowed from open doors to spill into the streets, laughing faces and listing bodies staggering about, blissfully unaware of the evil that Niko had been fighting.

"Camille," Niko said slowly, his voice holding a note of warning. "Try to keep your head down. You're a striking woman and easy to recognize. I should've taken Eades Bridge. It's a mess down here this time of night."

The car rolled slowly along the ancient, brick-paved streets, stopping often for the people that wandered off the sidewalks, and for the cars in the opposite lanes of the narrow roadways. Camille could see that Niko was anxious, glancing about with a forbidding expression on his face. 

"Why are we here?" 

"I need to see if Olan left me a message. There's a place we use over on Broadway," he answered as he gratefully turned right onto Washington. He followed the street to Broadway, turning right again. 

Camille watched the skyline as the towering Gateway Arch grew larger, looming over the city, the silvery structure a graceful, curving brilliance in the night. She had always loved this city. They'd spent many happy weekends here, shopping, dining, seeking entertainment. She'd been back only once since Niko had disappeared, the memories of his smiling face and glittering black eyes sending her home in abject loneliness, never to return.

She looked at the man who was once her Niko, seeing the set of his jaw and the darkness of his expression. He'd never been like that in those days, always smiled when she'd looked at him, always ready to wrap his arms around her, kiss her... 

Shaking her head, Camille tried to get her mind off the subject of his arms and lips. I'm getting married soon, to... she thought, her mind searching but failing to come up with the man's name. What's the matter with me? 

"What's wrong?" Niko could see the agitation she was feeling etched on her face.

Doug!  

"Nothing," she snapped, wanting to kick herself. "How much farther?"

"Just a couple blocks. When we stop I want you to stay close to me, understand?"

She nodded, not wanting to look at him. The car pulled to a stop in a small lot next to a brown building. The sign on the front said "The UPS Store," their visit giving Camille pause to wonder. When they got out of the car into the mid-summer night air, she stayed by Niko's side, as he'd told her, glancing back over her shoulder from time to time.

"You got me doing it now," she muttered when they reached the front of the building.

"What's that?" he said. 

Camille was about to tell him how she'd been reduced to his paranoid delusions when she saw the look on his face. His eyes had hardened, his hand hanging in the air where he'd been about to take hold of the door handle. A curse hissed from his lips at a small smear of blood on the door's glass. 

"What is it?" she asked, sudden alarm freezing her heart.

"Nothing, I hope." 

Pulling the door open cautiously, Niko wrapped his fingers around her upper arm while he inspected brown spots that looked like drops of liquid rust on the sidewalk and the floor inside. He pulled her along, glancing around, finding the place deserted.  

The walls of the interior were lined with rows upon rows of small, locked metal mailboxes. It was one of those places where you could have your mail delivered and then pick it up at whatever time of day suited best. The silence inside was eerie, too quiet for Camille's comfort. 

Glancing over his shoulder again, he guided her along one of the walls. There was a large, bloody handprint on the door of one of the boxes, another smear angling along the wall. Niko wasted little time in pulling out his leather lock case and extracting a small key ring. It held several small keys, all looking to fit locks such as those found on these boxes. Selecting one of the gleaming keys, he slipped it into the lock of the bloody door, opening it to pull out a stained wad of paper and a cell phone. 

"Where'd all this blood come from?" Camille whispered as she saw her husband smoothing the paper open.

"Fuck. We gotta go, now!" 

He slammed the small door shut, locking it and pulling the key out. Seizing her arm in his rough grasp and stuffing the bloody scrap of paper and the cell phone into his pocket, he dragged her to the exit, peering through the glass before shoving the door open. Camille had to run to keep up as his long legs stretched out, eating the ground under them. He all but threw her into the car when they reached it, slamming the door hard before jogging around the vehicle to take his place behind the wheel. 

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded.

Niko fired the engine and jammed the shifter into gear, gunning the engine hard. "Change of plans."

"Where are we going now?"

"We have to get out of the city. Sorry, babe. Doesn't look like you'll be getting that shower after all."

"I don't care about that. What's happening?"

Niko didn't answer, a small muscle twitching in his clenched jaw. His knuckles had turned white on the wheel again, and for a minute, Camille thought he would tear it from the steering column. Without thinking, she reached out, placed her hand over his in a gesture of concern.

"What happened, Niko?" she asked, her voice soft.

He turned his hand, capturing her fingers in his, bringing them to his lips before looking at her. The concern in her blue eyes reminded him of the love she once bore for him. He remembered all the times that he thought he could happily drown in the liquid depths of her gaze, just as he was thinking now. It took all his will power not to pull over, take her into his arms and lose himself in her body.

"Some goons waiting for us at the safe house," he said, focusing his attention back on the road, releasing her hand. "Olan said they must have followed him."

"Where'd all the blood come from?"

"Olan," he ground out. "He's been shot."

"Shot? Dear God. Where is he? Is he in a hospital?"

"No. No hospitals. He'll be holed up somewhere."

Niko pulled the cell phone from the pocket of his jeans as soon as they reached the freeway that would speed them to the edge of the city. Narrowly missing a merging vehicle that swerved in front of him, he dialed the only number in the phone's contact list. It rang several times before he heard a weak voice answer.

"How bad is it?" Niko barked into the receiver.

He was silent for a few moments while he listened to the voice on the other end. Without another word he disconnected, taking the next exit off the highway.

"We need to find a pharmacy," he told Camille.

"How bad?" she whispered, fear showing in the eyes that she turned to him.

"Bad enough. He took a bullet in the shoulder, lost a lot of blood."

"Where is he?"

"He found a barn where he could lay low. Says that it looks abandoned."

"Oh, that's sanitary," she smirked, rolling her eyes.

"Sometimes we have to make do, Camille."

"There," she blurted after a few minutes, pointing in the direction of a brightly lit building at the corner of Jefferson Barracks Drive and Telegraph Road. 

Once in the parking lot, Niko pulled her up close, bending close to her ear. "When we go in here just keep your head down. Smile and don't look too directly at anyone. Steer clear of the security cameras, if you can."

She nodded, forcing a smile to her lips when she walked through the automatic doors. Feeling suddenly vulnerable under the bright lights, she stayed close to him as they picked their way through the aisles, tossing the items they needed into a shopping cart.

"Where're you going?" he hissed as she pushed the cart away from the first aid isles. 

"We'll need sterile water," she whispered back.

Leading the way, Camille selected several gallons of distilled water, towels, soap, and other toiletries. Just for good measure, she also grabbed a package of men's t-shirts and a couple of blankets as well as some underwear for herself. At least she would be able to change into clean undies if she couldn't have a bath. At the last minute, she grabbed a bottle of vinegar, ignoring his quizzical expression.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"It's an ancient remedy for treating wounds. My grandmother used to use it." Then she turned to Niko, a thought striking her. "Do you have enough money to pay for all this?" she asked, not wanting to cause him any difficulty.

He grinned, thinking, It's just like her to worry about money at a time like this.  "Yes, agapi mou," he whispered, sliding one large hand down her arm. "I have enough."

A shiver coursed through her at the touch of his hand on her skin. Closing her eyes, she pulled away, wondering why he had that effect on her. "Okay," she said, her voice breathy. "I think we have everything we'll need. Let's get out of here."

In the next moment, she was caught up in the fire of his black opal eyes. It was odd that she had forgotten how beautiful they were, the way the light caught all the colors of the rainbow in their depths when he looked at her like that. Giving herself a mental shake, she accepted the cash that he handed her, taking it and their purchases to the cashier.

"Wait for me by the door after you pay," he told her. "I'm going to go talk to the pharmacist."

She approached the cashier, smiling, but keeping her eyes down as much as possible. When the woman ringing up the purchases gave her a quizzical look at the amount of medical supplies on the counter, Camille flashed her a friendly smile. 

"My grandfather's getting out of the hospital in the morning. He had surgery. I'm told I have to change his dressings every few hours. I hope I got enough."

"This ought to do it," the woman quipped.

Camille waited by the door with a shopping cart full of their purchases, growing impatient and more nervous by the minute. By the time Niko finally joined her she was ready to climb out of her skin. He walked up to her, shoving something in his pocket and reaching for her arm.

"Let's go," he whispered, guiding her out the door as she pushed the cart.

Niko had her get into the car before he put their packages in the backseat, watching the area around them the entire time. While he was loading the car, Camille reached across the seat to slip the key in the ignition and fire the engine. He had barely gotten behind the wheel when he slammed the car in gear and backed out of their parking slot, leaving the cart in the middle of the lot. Without bothering to stop for the sake of safety, he drove the car onto the street, forcing himself to maintain a normal speed.

"My God, I'm a nervous wreck," Camille stated, clutching the edge of the seat. 

Niko reached over, covered her hand with his, entwining their fingers gently. "I'm really sorry, baby."

There was a sudden lump in her throat, clogging her airway and making it difficult to speak. The gentleness in his touch, the tenderness in his voice reached her heart, reminded her of times past, when she had depended on him for the love and comfort he had given her. She gave his hand a squeeze, the only response she could give at the moment.

They'd only gone a few blocks when Niko jerked his hand away from hers, barking at her to buckle her seatbelt. He veered around a corner so fast Camille feared the vehicle would flip over as her body was slammed against the door. His jaw was ominously tight, his dark eyes glittering with steely determination as he glanced in the mirror at the traffic behind them.

"What is it?" she demanded as she pulled the belt around, snapping it into the metal clasp.

"We picked up a tail," he said, still watching the mirror.

"Are you sure?" 

He took the next intersection, gunning the engine and speeding through a red light, narrowly missing the cross traffic. Camille glanced over her shoulder in time to see a black sedan with screeching tires slide sideways into another vehicle. The sedan was on the move again, veering around the pile of twisted metal and plastic it left in its wake and gaining on them fast.

"What do we do now?" Camille's voice squeaked.

"Just hang on, babe. I'll get us out of this." 

The Taurus slid sideways, Niko cranking the wheel over hard with the brake pedal hitting the floor. In the next instant the tires were squealing under sudden acceleration as they drove into a narrow alleyway between two brick buildings. The car was moving so fast that the tires left the rough pavement several times. Camille had the impression of flying out of control as she shut her eyes against the fear of careening into the walls that flanked both sides.

She opened her eyes as the car traveled into oncoming traffic when it left the alley at racing speed. Other vehicles came to a screeching halt, barely missing the Taurus. Niko gave the wheel a spin, sending them swerving, dodging the other cars and trucks before fishtailing around the next corner. 

Camille was hard-pressed to keep her body from sliding from under the belt. She had one foot braced against the dash and one arm against the door. Gritting her teeth was the only way of stifling the screams that wanted to be set free. The car skidded around another corner before pulling into a car sales lot. 

Niko cut the engine and killed the lights, grabbing Camille's head to pull her down against the seat, his body covering hers. Camille gasped for breath around the seatbelt that pressed against her throat, could feel the fast, steady pace of Niko's heart against the back of her head. He raised above her for a moment, peering out the windshield before settling back over her.

She felt his hand move, felt the seat belt come loose when he unlatched it, releasing her constricted throat. "Is the coast clear?" she whispered, afraid to move.

"Yes."

"Then why the hell are you still on top of me?"

She could feel the chuckle that rumbled in his chest before hearing the sound of it. Bringing her head up hard, she connected with his breastbone, feeling gratified at the sound of his painful grunt. 

"Get off me," she muttered as she pulled herself free. "Idiot."

"Hey, can I help it if I like the way you feel against me? It's not like you're offering me hugs or anything. I have to take what I can get."

"Taking advantage of me when I'm terrified hardly endears you to me, Niko."

His grin made him look like his former self, that man that she had loved so long ago. Then his face sobered, a serious light in his eyes. "I'll never let anything happen to you, I swear. I'll keep you safe, agapi."

He gazed at her, his eyes so intense she could almost feel the heat behind them. She opened her mouth to speak only to be swept up as his arms closed around her, dragging her against his body. His face buried against her neck, his breath tickling the fine hairs on her skin, he murmured his promise again.

"I'll do whatever I have to, Camille, to protect you. Please believe that."

"I believe you, Niko."

He raised his head, looking at her face, studying her as if she were a fine piece of art. She thought at that moment that he would kiss her, would let that fire that burned behind his eyes get the better of him, but he didn't. He released her suddenly, pushing her back to her side of the car before starting the engine once again.

Camille was unsure if she was glad he'd controlled himself or disappointed. As they drove through the city streets, she found herself watching everything intently, searching for evildoers in every dark-colored vehicle she saw. Feeling as if her body was betraying her, she could still feel his arms around her, his breath against her skin.

"Is this what it's been like for you all these years?" she whispered, not daring to look at him.

"You mean dodging mercenaries and criminals? Yeah, mostly. Sometimes they were dodging me."

Thinking of his life, constantly on the run and looking over his shoulder, gave her a shudder. Looking at him now, seeing the tension in his face and frame, she experienced a wave of sorrow and concern. "It must've been so hard, Niko. I'm sorry for what you've been through."

The backs of his knuckles grazed the side of her face in a touch so tender she almost melted under it. "I'd go through it all over again if it'd win you back."

She took hold of his hand, pulling it from her face. "I... Niko..." she whispered. "I wish..."

"I know, baby. I'm sorry. I shouldn't've said it."

"I cried for you. I cried every night. I went for days without sleep and then I'd dream about you walking through the door, just like you did last night. I went a little crazy for a while. No one could talk to me. I think Dad was ready to have me committed at one point. I just wanted you to come back."

"I tried, agapi mou, by the Virgin, I swear it. Every time I thought I was getting close, all hell would break loose again. I went a little crazy myself, I think." He turned to gaze at her, his eyes telling her what the years had cost him. Focusing his attention back to the dark city streets he added, "I was sorry when I heard about your dad. He was a good man. It must have been terrible, losing him and being alone like you were."

"It was hard. His heart just gave out. He was the only one who supported me, believed in me when I was trying to get answers about what happened to you. It was just too much for him."

"I wish I could've been there for you, Camille."

"It's okay. It's over now," she returned, rotating her head to look out the side window. "It was a long time ago."

The car entered the highway, its occupants falling silent as Niko watched the surrounding vehicles for any suspicious signs. They followed 255 to 55 and took the south lane, heading out of town. Camille could see that Niko's thoughts had turned to his friend, worried if the man would still be alive when they finally reached him.

"Where is this barn?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"South of St. Louis. It'll take us a while to get there, an hour or so. Why don't you try to get some rest?"

"Fat chance. I couldn't sleep now if you smacked my skull with a ball-peen hammer," she retorted, folding her arms across her chest.

"Don't tempt me," he chuckled.

"I knew it. You really do want to do me in."

Her statement startled him, causing his head to snap around. Then he caught the mischievous smile on her face, the merry twinkle in the brilliant blue of her eyes. The grin he returned was just as playful, a welcome departure from the tension of their current circumstances.

"Hey, just who was beating the hell out of who last night? I'm the one with the battle wounds. Look what you did to my hand." He held up the offended appendage, the back of which was riddled with deep, angry furrows. 

"Serves you right," she snorted, swatting his arm back. "You almost smothered me."

The smile disappeared from his face, replaced by the horror he'd felt when she'd fallen limp in his arms, her hands dropping flaccidly to her sides, her body convulsing softly against his. He'd feared that he'd killed her, as he'd lowered her to the floor, willing her to breathe.




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 04



"Camille, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't know I was..."

The anguish in his voice moved her heart to reach out to his, as her hand reached for his face. "I shouldn't have brought it up. It was just an accident and no one was hurt. Let's forget about it, okay?"

Pressing his cheek to her palm, he gave her a sidelong glance before answering. "I missed you, agapi. I missed your smile."

She had to pull her hand away, had to remember that she was no longer his wife, but about to marry another. "You'd better concentrate on driving, Niko. Your friend needs help."

"Watch for Route 141," he returned, straightening in his seat. "From there we have to get on Old State Route 21 and head south. Then we have to go about ten miles and look for an old red sign that says Heights Orchards. There should be a long lane and then an over-grown path that leads to the barn."

They rode the rest of the way in silence, both watching for suspicious activity and landmarks. Niko was growing more and more tense as the miles passed, peering into the darkness all around them. His mood was contagious, had Camille imagining henchmen with guns blasting away behind every tree.

A small moan escaped her throat when she saw the red sign that they sought, though it was difficult to recognize it for the overgrowth of wild ivy and tree branches. The lane they turned down was pitted and thick with brush. There was a break in the thicket, barely wide enough for the car that carried them. Niko turned the wheel as he shut off the headlights, navigating the narrow path by the light of the setting moon.

Within a matter of minutes the undergrowth opened, revealing the silhouette of a large structure standing against the night sky. Niko stopped the car some fifty yards before the building, telling her to stay in the car while he checked his weapon. He thought for a moment, then reached under the seat, pulling out the small .38 he had removed from the trunk earlier.

"I know you know how to use this," he said, giving the gun a quick inspection. "Keep the doors locked and don't hesitate to use it."

When Camille didn't take the gleaming weapon from him, he shoved it at her. "Take it, Camille. Don't fuck around. If anyone other than me comes up to the vehicle, shoot him. Then get the hell out of here. There's cash in the glove box. Don't trust anyone. Head east to the Pentagon, ask for Colonel Hansen and give him my name -- my real name. This is important Camille, only talk to Hansen. You got it?"

"Yeah, but... you'll be back, right?"

"Don't worry," he whispered, brushing her cheek with the tips of his fingers. "I promised I wouldn't let anyone hurt you."

"No, Niko. It's... If you die again..."

His hand snaked around the back of her neck, sliding up to tangle in her hair, drawing her to him. He covered her mouth with his, kissing her tenderly before hesitantly releasing her. Taking her hand, he placed the gun in it, closing her fingers around the grip. 

"I'll be back," he rasped.

After he closed the car door, she slid behind the wheel, pushing the electric door lock button. The resounding snap of the locks startled her as she watched Niko skulk through the shadows toward the structure, finally disappearing into the night. She clutched the gun in her hands, anxiety eating a hole in her stomach. 

Camille had to remind herself to breathe, to take in the oxygen that fed her brain and muscles. The minutes stretched out, her imagination conjuring demons from the sounds and movements in the darkness outside the car. Her fingers began to ache as they gripped the cold steel of the gun, until she forced herself to relax her hold.

The waiting was intolerable, eating away at her mind until she thought she would go nuts. She had reached for the door handle several times, wondering if she should go look for him, but Niko's warning words constantly played in her head. Don't fuck around. Get the hell out of here. Don't trust anyone.  

Indecision became her enemy, tugging her thoughts in all directions and centering on nothing -- so she sat and she waited. What was that?  She thought she detected a movement in the shadows near the dark building. Her eyes began to burn as she kept them trained on the area where she thought she saw the movement. Finally she blinked several times before refocusing, trying to tell herself it had been her imagination.

She saw it again, more defined this time. The large shadow wove out of the darkness of the barn, moving into the scant silvery light, disappearing briefly as a cloud obscured the low-hanging half-moon. The black thing moved closer, taking shape, becoming defined with arms and legs. Clutching the gun, feeling the hammer under her thumb, she didn't know if she could kill the man that was walking her way. 

It had to be Niko. Who else could it be? Thinking of the car that had chased them earlier, she was no longer sure of anything. Unable to bear anymore, Camille reached for the headlamp switch, flooding the area in front of the car with light. The man raised his arm to shield his eyes, flinching against the brightness. 

A gasp of relief that sounded more like a moan was the only sound she made when she saw her husband upright, walking, unharmed. Switching off the headlamps again, Camille waited until he approached the driver's door before releasing the electric locks.  

"Slide over," Niko said when he opened the car. Slipping behind the wheel, he turned uneasy eyes to her while he started the car. "Olan's in bad shape. Looks like he damn near bled out. Burning up, too. I hope we got here in time."

"He should be in a hospital, Niko." 

"Can't. He's on the run, same as me. Can't take the chance," he stated, putting the car in gear. 

Camille climbed over the seat to gather the supplies as the car pulled into the barn. As she got out of the vehicle her eyes took in the cobwebs hanging from the rafters and the thick layer of dust that coated the walls. Then she saw the sickly form of a man, crumpled in a corner, gasping as if each breath would be his last.

Niko killed the motor, leaving on the headlamps to illuminate the cavernous interior of the ramshackle building. He threw his door open, reaching for the bags that Camille held, carrying them to where his friend languished. Turning to see her advancing quickly, he took the remaining bags she had removed from the vehicle.

Camille dropped to her knees alongside the man, placing one hand on his chest while the other felt the heat of his forehead. Shooting her husband a worried frown, she grabbed one of the sacks, rifling through its contents. 

"See if you can find the scissors," she ordered as she snagged another bag. "And get one of those blankets out. Try to find a relatively clean spot to spread it. I'll need a couple of jugs of water from the car. Do you think we can chance a fire?"

Within minutes they had Olan laid out on a blanket, stripped from the waist up before Camille cleansed his wound. The man had blissfully fallen into unconsciousness from the pain of his wound and weakness from loss of blood. She inspected the damage, finding a gaping hole just below his left collarbone, created by the bullet that had exited his back just to the right of his shoulder blade. The area around both wounds was bright, angry, red and swollen. 

Camille sucked her breath in through her teeth, fearfully looking up at Niko. "This is a pretty bad infection. He needs to be in a hospital."

"That would only get him killed, Camille. They'll be watching the hospitals."

"You keep saying 'they.' Who is this 'they?'"

"We'll talk about it later. Let's just take care of Olan right now, okay?" Niko ducked his head, rummaging through one of the bags of supplies. "We'll have a long talk later. I promise."

Irritated at him for evading the question, Camille had no choice but to agree when the man on the blanket started moaning. "Find the vinegar for me," she ordered as she pulled out a large, sterile cotton pad. 

"Here you go," he said, offering the bottle.

"Take that empty water jug," she said, inclining her head toward the previously emptied bottle. "Mix the vinegar with equal parts water. Don't use it all. We might need straight vinegar later."

Niko complied, pouring the liquids carefully, then handing the jug to her. She poured a liberal amount over the pad, telling him to hold it in place over the exposed wound while she wet another dressing and applied it to Olan's back. Wrapping gauze around the injured man's body to hold the compresses in place was easy enough. Stopping herself from worrying over his fate was another matter. 

"Niko," she whispered. "He's lost a lot of blood. He's running a fever. What if the bullet hit one of his vitals? We need a doctor."

"I know but we'll just have to manage. Olan's a tough guy. If anyone can pull through it'd be him."

Camille rubbed her tired eyes, standing to stretch her cramped muscles. "The dressings need to be changed every half-hour or so."

"I can manage. Why don't you lie down in the car? Try to get some sleep."

Nodding tiredly, she wandered away from the two men, walking toward something that caught her eye. On the far left side of the barn, not far from the fallen man, she found a black car, riddled with bullet holes, the whole of the left side smashed in. Peering into the car's interior, she saw dark stains on the driver's seat, dash and steering wheel. She shuddered, turning away from the vehicle, hugging herself.

Thinking that she didn't feel like lying down, she walked to the door of the barn to lean against the frame and stare out into the night. The pre-dawn sounds of summer greeted her, giving her a false sense of peacefulness. Somewhere, a whippoorwill cried out in bleak despair, its call heard over the boisterous sounds of the insects that summoned the coming day. 

As was her habit when she was a little girl, Camille tried to pick out each sound she heard and name the creature that made it. One noise, in particular, caught her attention. It was the deep, sustained booming of a bullfrog. It wasn't so much the amphibian's cry that interested her, but what his presence meant. There was water nearby -- a pond or a lake in which she could swim and bathe. 

She didn't want to worry or upset Niko, who was already so concerned over the life of his friend, but the thought of a soothing dip in cool water was far too tempting to ignore. The horizon before her was beginning to pale, streaks of pink light lifting heavenward, as dawn approached. She would be able to find her way with little trouble if she followed the sounds she heard, and she knew she could be back before he missed her.

Returning to the ailing man on the floor of the barn, she touched his forehead, instructing Niko to try to get his friend to swallow some water. As her husband turned to the task she quickly searched the bags of supplies until she found a towel, shampoo, soap, the new underwear and t-shirts they had gotten. She wrapped all the smaller items in the towel, leaving Niko to tend Olan. At the last minute she stopped at the Ford Taurus, opening the door to retrieve the small handgun that Niko had given her.

Once outside, the balmy night air embraced her, welcoming her into its cleansing fold. There was an overgrown path that led in the direction of the croaking bullfrogs; she watched as the sky grew lighter. The path carried her over a slight rise and down an incline to the edge of a large pond. The water was just showing the first signs of the green algae that marked mid-summer on the still waters of the Missouri. The green was mixed with the hues of pink, gray and orange of the approaching sunrise, reflecting off the water in a mesmerizing array.

As she drew near the water, the sound of a loud plopping splash greeted her. A large bullfrog had abandoned his perch on a nearby log at her intrusion. She could just make out his bulging eyes surveying her from the water's surface. 

"I'll join you in just a minute," she told the spying creature as she laid out her things on the bank of the pond.

Her first inclination as she peeled off her dirty clothing was to dive headlong into the dark water. She thought better of this, not knowing how shallow the pond was. Once she was naked, allowing the early morning air to caress her nude skin, she waded in, pushing herself out to swim a few strokes before ducking under. 

When she came up again, it was to float on her back, allowing the cool air to caress the wet flesh of her belly and breasts. She basked in the pure heavenly sensation of the warm water, feeling as if she had been transported from the hellish nightmare that her life had suddenly become. It was easy to allow the water to wash away the tensions of the past day and a half, to ensconce her in a dream-like state of contentment. 

Camille lost herself to the pleasure of the water, failing to notice the lone figure silhouetted against the sunrise on the levee of the pond, a gun in his hand. The man watched her with interest, his eyes settling on her bare nipples and the gentle curve of her belly. He took his thumb off the hammer of the gleaming revolver he carried, allowing his hand to drop to his side, the gun pointed at the ground. He crouched down in the scrub that lined the embankment, observing her through the thicket.



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 05



She was fascinating the way her body flowed with the water as if she were part of it. Each graceful stroke of her soft arms propelled her along the surface, in harmony with the nature that surrounded her as well as the fiery sunrise catching on her wet skin. Then she disappeared under the surface, sliding beneath the water as her blond hair followed, ebbing away slowly until it became one with the water.

Her head broke the surface, leading her body up into the sweet air of the new day as the flames of the sunrise glistened in her wet hair. One arm extended seductively as she turned on her back, exposing the delicate curves of her breasts to the burning light. Each taut nipple stood proudly over the water, guarding the gentle swell of her belly and the soft tangle of golden curls below it. 

The minute she had stepped into the murky water, he'd had the impression he was seeing a goddess. Her golden skin glimmering in the faint light of the awakening day had been like an apparition. With a toss of her wheat-colored hair she had taken possession of his mind, leaving no room for the anger he had been harboring. 

The secretive smile on her face alone was enough to remind him that he was a man. With all that she'd been through over the past two days, he couldn't imagine how she could find enough pleasure to create that smile. He wished he'd been the one to make her lips curve so deliciously, to make her feel even a moment of joy. As it was, he was held spellbound by the magic of her expression, quickening the pace of his heart. 

A painful swelling prodded against the unforgiving zipper of his jeans as he watched her breasts rise and fall with each breath. His hands itched to touch her, to grab her hips so that he could impale her, take possession of her flesh and her being.

The throbbing in his groin became more insistent when she suddenly rolled back over and glided toward the edge of the pond. She stood slowly, the surface of the water settling around her hips when she reached the log where she had earlier placed the items she'd been carrying. As she reached for one of the items that turned out to be a bar of soap, he could only watch in fascination as she worked up a lather to run over her shimmering flesh. 

He crawled under the brush, working his way toward her in virtual silence as she continued to bathe. He stopped only ten feet from where she stood with her back to the bank. Her back seemed to stiffen slightly as she set the soap down on the log before ducking into the water and swimming toward the middle, leaving a trail of foamy bubbles in her wake. 

She stopped several yards out, turning to face the bank, standing straight with the water coming to her shoulders. "Come out of there, " she barked, looking directly at his hiding spot.

Niko froze, not wanting the spell to be broken or to be caught spying on his wife. Then he watched in amazement as one of her hands broke slowly to the surface, a pistol clutched there and trained on him. With a low whistle, he cautiously raised his head, smiling at the deadly beauty in the water.

"No wonder you can't break the case," Camille flared, "if that's what you call 'covert activity.' Jesus Christ. Why are you skulking around in the bushes, peeping at me? Can't a girl get some fucking privacy?"

The grin on his face told the story well. He'd been enjoying the erotic show she'd been putting on, enjoying it more than even he realized. "Do you always take a bath with a gun?"

"Smart ass," she snorted as she lowered the gun. Watching as he kicked off his shoes and reached for the belt at his waist, she added, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I thought I'd join you. How's the water?"

"Hey, who invited you? Get out of here."

"Don't test me, agapi mou. I'm pissed as hell that you wandered off," he growled softly as he finished peeling off his clothing. "You need to set your happy ass down and think about this. It's no party. You could've gotten yourself killed pulling a stunt like that."

She watched in frustration as he waded into the water, noting the beauty of his naked physique as he set his own gun on the log next to her shampoo and soap. "I told you not to call me that. You have no right." 

His back stiffened at her words, his face turning angry -- but only briefly. That irritatingly easy smile returned, flashing at her from across the water. She wanted to hurl the cold steel, still gripped in her fingers, at him. 

"Of course," he said smoothly as he picked up the small bottle of shampoo. "I should know better than to call my wife by names of adoration. How foolish of me." 

He walked through the water, moving toward her, his eyes glittering with amusement. Stopping just inches from her, he raised his empty hand, cupping her shoulder, running the palm down her arm. His fingers felt the muscles under her skin tense, drawing tight as a shiver ambled through her body. 

His hand settled over the unyielding hardness of the gun, still gripped in her hand under the water. "You gonna use that on me, Baby?" "I might," she offered suggestively, her grip tightening under his hand.

He chuckled, the warm, rich sound rumbling deep in his chest and tumbling from his lips. Still holding her hand, cocking his eyebrow, he whispered, "I believe you would."

He released the gun and the hand that held it, running the pads of his fingers up her arm, over the curve of her shoulder to her nape. The skin under his touch drew taut, a reaction he remembered so well from that life they had before. Stepping around her, sliding his palm under her drenched hair, he positioned himself behind her -- close enough that she could feel his heat, but not pressing his body against hers.

"What are you doing, Niko?" She tried to sound stern but the question came out sounding like an invitation.

His lips brushed against the curve of her neck, causing the water around her to flow in tiny ripples as she shuddered. "I'm going to wash your hair, my Camille," he breathed against the shell of her ear. His touch left her briefly, opening the bottle and pouring a liberal measure into his palm. "Hold this for me." 

Camille felt the cool bottle, as it slid over her shoulder to rest just above her breast, felt the heat of the flesh that held it to her. She reached up, shaking, to take it from him, letting her arm drop back into the water once she had it. His lips nuzzled her ear, tasting the water on her skin, sending another quiver dancing through her.

His hands cupped the top of her head, his fingers diving into the thick, wet tresses, massaging her scalp. He stopped only long enough to pull the ends out of the water and work them into the lather on her head. A soft moan escaped her lips as she leaned into him, feeling the muscles of his chest against her shoulder blades. 

His movements were seductive, deliberate, designed to entice her senses, each stroke of his fingers sending delicious sensations through her. He pressed himself against her, pulling her head back onto his shoulder as his fingers continued to work. She found herself forced to concentrate that she wouldn't drop the gun in her hand and lose it in the soft bed of the pond.

The sensations he created were made of smoke and dreams, weaving in and around her, consuming her mind, dominating her body. She sagged against him, moaning softly when his fingers left her scalp to stroke down the sides of her neck, splaying over her collarbone and further. He wove a seductive spell that would soon have her whimpering like a newborn kitten if she didn't get hold of herself. 

Memories of the way he'd once played her body like a maestro, strumming all the right nerves came back. He'd always had the ability to rob her of her senses, send her to unbelievable heights of pleasure. That was before -- before the pain of loss and loneliness after he went off on his great adventure. He'd abandoned her without a word, left her to her struggle for her own survival. Now, he was back expecting her to forget the commitments she'd made, the fight she'd endured to rebuild her life without him. And she was letting him!

She stiffened, her body solidifying as her pride and her anger seized control. Stepping forward, she whirled around in the water, glaring at the passion that glazed his dark eyes.

"God damn it! " she snarled, pushing away from him hard enough to knock him back in the water. "Changing tactics, I see."

Camille stomped through the water, her arms swinging furiously in her haste to get away. Slamming the gun onto the log, tossing the bottle of shampoo at the bank, she whirled around to scowl at him from across the water. Lather dribbled down the sides of her face, tumbling onto her neck and shoulders as the piles of hair cascaded from her head.

"Do you ever give up?" she sneered, raising her voice to be sure he would hear her. "Face it, Niko. What we once had is gone. I've moved on. When I needed you, you weren't there, but someone else was. I am going to marry him. Do you understand that?"

She dove under, swimming out into the water and away from him, leaving a trail of creamy soap froth in her wake. Running her hands through her hair, she stayed under the surface just long enough to ensure she got all the shampoo out. When she came up for air she found Niko standing nearby, an unreadable expression on his face.

Camille turned, wanting to put distance between them, only to feel his iron grip as he seized her arm. Drawing her to his body, his arm snaked around her waist, holding her fast. "Why?"

She snorted, pushing at his chest. "Why?  Because he loves me. Because he'll always be there for me. That's why."

"You didn't say you love him, though, agapi," he whispered, capturing one of her struggling hands in his, holding it to his chest. "No one ever loved like we did. Your... What's his name? Doug? Your Doug will never be able to show you the passion and fire that we have, even now."

His voice was soothing, his black eyes catching the flames of the sunrise, heating her with his glances. She felt her body reacting, the warmth flooding her senses as her hard nipples pressed against the smooth skin of his chest. Turning her head, she tried to twist in his arms, to pull away before it was too late.

"Niko, please. You called me a whore before. Remember? That's exactly what you're trying to turn me into now. Don't make me unfaithful to him. Let me go."

The urgency of her plea caught in his heart, tugging at what was left of his compassionate side. He released her slowly, hesitantly, allowing her to step away. A stabbing pain in his chest, near where that first bullet had struck him all those years ago, stole his breath, almost staggering him. By the time she took her second step, he was nearly choking on bitterness.

"No! " His hand shot out, dragging her back. Clasping both her upper arms, he held her to him, his face only inches from hers. "I'm your husband, not that guy you're trying so hard to remember. I'm the one you're being unfaithful to."

"Take your hands off me, Niko," she demanded calmly. "You're not my husband anymore. I don't even know who you are."

He felt the pain in his chest again, spreading through his limbs at her words. "I'm the man who loves you, Camille," he ground out. "The same man who loved you all those years ago. I never stopped, unlike you."

It was Camille's turn to be hurt, her brows drawing together in an anguish frown. She wanted to lash out at him, to make him suffer what she'd known after his disappearance, but she kept her voice soft, chose to be honest with her words. "I never stopped loving you, Niko. I just had to learn to live without my heart."

Her whispered confession caught him by surprise. His grip relaxed as his fingers crawled over her arms and around her back. He pulled her into a gentle embrace, held her against his warmth, her head cradled on his shoulder. 

"No woman lives without her heart, Camille. You have my heart; can't you give me yours? Poso mou eleipses moro mou -- how I've missed you, Baby."

She lifted her head, pushing back to look into his eyes. "You're not playing fair, Niko."

"I know,  agapi mou," he rasped, lowering his head slowly. 

His lips tenderly brushed her forehead, moving along the line of her brow to her cheek. He curled a finger under her chin, lifting her face higher as his lips caressed her skin. When his mouth finally claimed hers, the rest of the world receded, leaving only the two lovers, basking in each other and the water that surrounded them. A soft moan floated up from her throat, mingling with the sounds of the new day.

"Thee mou, " he gasped, lifting his head to look at her face. " Eisai toso omorfi. "

Camille returned his gaze, her eyes hazy and glazed. "Hmm?" 

"My God, Camille," he translated. "You're so beautiful."

He bent to kiss her again, the fingers of one hand moving between them to trace the curve of her breast. Camille pushed back again, trying hard to keep him at arm's length. It wasn't working so well. "Niko, please," she begged. "Let me go."

The finger trailing around her nipple became more insistent. "I've seen the way you look at me, Baby. I know you feel what I do."

"Feeling it doesn't make it right," she whispered against his mouth. "I can't do this."

"I've loved you my whole life. You loved me, too. I have a ring on my finger that says it's right."

"And I have a death certificate that says it isn't." She turned her head, trying one more time to get him to let her loose.

"Do I feel dead to you?" he demanded, his voice harsh, full of emotion. He pressed her open palm to the flesh of his chest again. "Can't you feel my heart beating? I'm warm and alive and I need you. You need me. Does he make you feel like this? Does he know how to set you on fire?" He stopped for a moment to study her face. "I've been to hell and back trying to get to you. I would give up my life just to make love to you one more time. Don't turn me away."

Something in his eyes -- a memory perhaps, or the spark of a flame long gone dormant -- caught her by surprise, draining away what little was left of her resistance. She lost the battle she fought with her body, her arms curving upward to encircle his neck. This time when his lips found hers, she returned his kiss with eagerness. A shudder of pure delight traveled through her while his hands stroked the length of her spine.

The kiss ended when Niko lifted her, sliding an arm around her back and the other under her knees. His mouth descended again, taking hers, his tongue forcing its way between her teeth. It seemed to Camille that the water on her skin had turned to steam by the time he laid her down on the cool grass. 

He lay beside her, propped on one elbow as his eyes took in every soft curve of her body. "Do you remember the last time we made love outdoors?"

Camille nodded, not trusting her voice as his hand slid over her wet skin.

"We'd sneaked away from camp, found a spot by the lake. You were quite the wild woman, as I recall."

"You always did have that effect on me, Niko." Her voice was husky, her words ending on a gasp as his fingers settled over her soft mound.

He watched with fascination when she licked her lips, bending to capture the lower one between his teeth and suck it into his mouth. Her shaking fingers tangled in his hair, holding his head fast while his hand continued to explore the remembered secrets of her body. Then he pulled himself free of the kiss, rolled on top of her and pried her thighs open with his knees.

He nestled there as she arched her back, the velvety head of his engorged shaft sliding along the opening of her slick, wet sex. Pulling back when she tried to grind against him, he smiled knowingly, acutely aware of the need that drove her. He felt it too, with each breath that flooded the scent of her into his nostrils, with each soft gasp and whimpering moan that sounded in his ears.

The episode in the car, the enraged lust that they'd experienced together seemed like an eternity ago as he ran his palms over her body and explored her with his mouth. It had only been two nights previous, but it receded in his mind as if it had taken place in another lifetime. This was the moment he had so long awaited. This was the moment that would fill his need.

A tiny cry tore from her lips when his mouth found her first nipple, his teeth caressing it roughly, as he remembered would send her writhing in pleasure. He slicked his tongue over the erect flesh, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it to dry in the cool morning air. His hands never ceased moving while his mouth sought out the second nipple. 

He wanted to draw this out, savor every part of her, if he could keep his body under control. Already, the throbbing in his groin was so intense that each breath she took, each movement of her body sent him closer to the point of no return. He moaned against the urge to ram himself into her, fought to maintain his tenuous restraint.

As if sensing his predicament, Camille brought her knees up, wrapped her ankles across his back. The silky, wet skin of her inner thighs caressed his ribcage, her sex opening to him. It was more than he could stand. He planted his hands on either side of her shoulders, rising above her, positioning himself.

He felt her moist heat grasping the pulsating head of his member. Holding himself there, savoring the pleasure of that sensation was impossible. A growl tore from his throat as his head whipped back. With one powerful lunge he was buried in her drenched sex, the pleasure so intense that he cried out simultaneously with her surprised screams.

Her legs moved up, seeking a better position while his powerful muscles flexed, pounding her flesh mercilessly. Not satisfied with the placement of her limbs, Niko reached back, pulling each leg in turn up onto his shoulders. Completely open to him now, he was reaching deeper, sinking farther with each frantic thrust.

Somewhere in her addled mind registered the small twig that gouged her back every time he pounded into her flesh. That thought was lost as her nails did their own damage on the backs of his arms and the flesh of his rump when she reached down. His moves became more frenzied with each of her ardent moans, which seemed to come nonstop at this point. Her body writhed under his, trying to draw him deeper, to meld them as one. Niko felt her tense, her muscles tighten around him, clenching as if to hold him deep within her. His eyes never left her face as her neck arched, driving her head back into the soft grass underneath. For a brief moment her breath caught in her throat before rushing out as a sharp cry.

The first spasm of her orgasm sent him over the edge, joining her, tumbling with her through the black void of erotic pleasure. His answering growl was savage, reverberating across the grass and water, silencing the small creatures that lived there. With one final thrust he seated himself deeply, splashing hot streams of liquid in her womb while she shuddered beneath him. 

Releasing her legs, he collapsed on top of her, panting into her ear as one of his hands stroked the side of her head. " Thee mou," he gasped. "I'm sorry, Camille. I wanted it to be so different, better."

When he heard her giggle, he raised his head sharply, seeing the delight on her face. "What's so funny?"

"If it got any better you'd've killed us," she breathed, another giggle bubbling to the surface.

Grinning, and feeling like a schoolboy on his first sexual romp, Niko rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. He ran his hand down her back, feeling the warm stickiness of blood on her skin. 

"Why didn't you tell me you were being hurt?" he asked harshly, his voice thick with concern.




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 05



"What? And run the risk of damaging your tender male ego? Perish the thought," she laughed as she rose above him. "Don't worry. I got you back. You're bleeding too." She held her hands up, curving her fingers like the claws of an animal. She was giddy, drunk on the pleasure they'd just shared.

Pulling her back down to him, he ran his hands over her again, hugging her, savoring the feel of her in his arms. "I've missed this, just holding you. Your body fits mine perfectly. Let's stay right here forever."

He heard her sigh, felt her snuggle deeper into his arms. If there was a heaven, then this was it, he decided. Nothing could compare to the heat that they shared, the passion that had always been between them. Then a thought struck him, coming from that "tender male ego," as she'd called it.

"Was it ever like this between you and your fiancé?"

His question was soft, gentle, asked without spite, but it caught her by surprise, all the same. Raising her head, she searched his face, looking for some sign of that anger that he'd shown her earlier. Seeing none, she relaxed again, settling her head on his chest.

"I wouldn't know."

His body stiffened. He wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. "What do you mean?"

With a sigh, she rose over him, gazing into his face. "I have a small confession, Niko," she whispered. "Doug and I... well, we never... You see, we wanted to wait for our wedding night. I wanted to wait. I wanted it to be what we had, you and I. We waited for our wedding night and we had a very healthy sex life. I guess I wanted that with Doug, too. He didn't seem to mind, so we were waiting."

Niko cupped her face in his hands, the expression in his eyes one of profound tenderness. "Are you telling me that he never touched you,  agapi?"

"He never did, not like that. Other than some necking on the couch occasionally, he pretty much kept his hands to himself."

"I have to ask," he whispered. "But you don't have to answer. Were there any others? Was he the only one?"

"He was the only man I dated after you..." Her voice caught in her throat, smothered by the lump that was steadily growing.

"My love, I'm so sorry," he murmured, capturing her hand in his, squeezing it tightly. "You truly  were alone. The things I said to you... God, Camille. I'm sorry."

She merely shrugged her shoulders. "It's past. Let's just forget it. I wasn't exactly nice to you either."

Raising her palm to his lips, he placed a tender kiss on the heel of her hand, dragging his lips over her wrist. She closed her eyes, shivering at the heat he was causing.

"Where'd you get this?" 

When Camille opened her eyes she saw him looking at the skin that covered her wrist, running his thumb over the puckered scar he found there. Cringing slightly, she twisted her arm free, burying it between their bodies.

"Answer me, Camille. How'd you get that scar?"

Settling her head against his chest again, she sighed, dreading the telling she was about to give. "You remember that glass coffee table, the one that belonged to your mom?"

"Yes."

"Well, I broke it. I dropped a sculpture on it. Actually, I threw the sculpture. I was pretty upset at the time. It wasn't too long after you'd disappeared. I'm sorry I broke your mom's table, Niko."

"That doesn't explain how you got that scar. What happened?"

"I did it when I was cleaning up the mess. I guess I just wasn't being careful."

Niko took her by the shoulders, pushing her up, away from him so that he could see her face. "Is that all? Was it an accident? That looks like a pretty serious cut, straight and even, between the tendons. Was it an accident?"

She could feel the flood of tears that she'd kept at bay all these years, pressing against her eyes, threatening to escape. Memories of those horrible days came back -- the pain, the anguish, the emptiness -- all struggled to be set free.

"I was cleaning it up," she answered, her voice cracking as she fought to maintain control. "I told you I went crazy. I was sitting on the carpet, picking up the chunks of glass. It was your mom's table. It was part of your past. The pieces of it were everywhere, scattered all over the room. I'd tried to find you. I couldn't eat or sleep. No one would listen to me. The police threatened me, said they'd arrest me if I didn't stop harassing them. It was hopeless.  I was hopeless.

"Then I saw blood. I had a big piece of glass in my hand. The corner of it was jammed into my wrist. I'd done it myself. I don't remember doing it. But I was holding the glass and I was bleeding. 

"I panicked a little, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my wrist. I got myself to the hospital. Told the doctors I'd done it on accident, put my hand through the glass when I tripped. I didn't mean to do it." She stopped for a moment, taking a breath, unable to meet his gaze. "I missed you so much," she added in an anguished whisper.

"Jesus," he hissed, pulling himself upright. He pulled her up with him, crushing her body to his as he dragged her onto his lap. "My God, what have I done to you?"

"It's okay, Niko," she murmured against the side of his neck. "I got hold of myself in time. It wasn't your fault."

"No wonder you were so pissed at me." He took her arms, held her out to look at him. "I swear to you, Camille, no matter what happens, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you."

She switched positions, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs about his waist. " If we survive," she crooned, "I might let you do that. Right now I just want you to make love to me again."

Niko grinned, his hands sliding under her bottom. "I think I can accommodate that request."

He was already hard, his erection springing to life the minute her sex came in contact with his. He wanted to take it slower this time, to explore all the secrets of her body, but she had other ideas. Her hips wriggled against him, positioning themselves until his shaft penetrated her soft, wet folds. She moaned, a delicious sound that had him groaning in return as he stroked her skin. 

Camille dug her heels into the ground behind him, extending her arms to support her from behind. His hands on her hips guided her, set a slow pace as she rode his body. Her eyes closed, her head tilted back as the sun played across her golden skin.

He brought one palm up over the ridges of her ribs, sliding his fingers under her breasts and between them. When his hand reached her throat, it descended again, brushing over first one mound of soft flesh and then the other. He teased her hardened nipples while he watched the pleasure play across her face. 

Then his fingers worked downward, over the slope of her belly to the golden curls that moved against his groin. A harsh gasp escaped her lips, her body jerking, when his thumb grazed the hard knot of nerves that was hidden within. Her movements quickened, her breath coming in short pants and whimpering moans.

"Yes, Baby," he growled. "Ride me. I wanna feel you come all over me."

Lifting her bottom, she ground against him, moaning his name in a sobbing cry. "Niko, please..."

"Please, what,  agapi? Tell me what you want."

She opened her eyes, capturing him in their cerulean depths. "I want... Please... I..." 

Whatever she had been trying to say was lost as wave after wave of intense orgasm washed over her. He pulled her to him, caressing her skin, murmuring words of love in the language of his ancestors. 

Holding her tightly, he hauled himself to his feet, still buried deep within her. His hands slipped beneath her bottom, clutching the silky flesh, lifting her against him. Every movement was blissful torture as he walked to the pond, wading in until the water lapped at the tops of his thighs.

With his hands he lifted her, pulling out of her drenched sex only to plunge back in again. He bucked his hips, pummeling her as she rocked against him. The water splashed around them, washing over his hands as he gripped her bottom. 

Camille moaned, slinging her head back, gasping at the new waves of pleasure that engulfed her body. She felt him grow larger within her flesh, felt the tightening in his body. Then there was a cry that rumbled in his chest, rasping from his lips as he convulsed, shooting his seed within her again just before they both sank into the water.

Niko used his remaining strength to keep the giggling face of his wife above the surface as his legs dropped from under him. "What's so funny?" he sputtered.

"You. You're funny."

He grabbed her waist, dunking her head under. "Oh yeah? Am I funny now?" he asked when she came up spitting pond water.

"Yep!" she squealed. 

She flipped onto her belly, kicking water in his face as she disappeared beneath the surface. When she came up again, she was near the log that held her soap. Washing quickly, she watched him suspiciously over her shoulder.

"We'd better go check on your friend," she called. "How long have we been gone?"

"Too long," Niko said, walking toward her. 

He watched as she briskly rinsed the soap from her body, then left the water. She moved with the grace of a dancer, picking up her towel, rubbing herself dry, watching him with a mysterious smile adorning her face. He'd missed these intimate moments -- the moments that so many take for granted. The simple act of running a towel over her glowing skin, a smile cast over her shoulder or even the way her breasts moved when she sighed, was all he needed to feel peace in his soul. He let his mind be fooled into believing that he'd found home again, if only for a moment.

Camille tossed the towel to him as he stepped from the water's edge. He watched her dress as he dried himself, watched the way she dragged her fingers through the wet tangles of her hair. He knew he was grinning like a fool, but he didn't care. All that he needed was standing beside him on the bank of that pond.

He tossed the towel down as she reached for his jeans. When she picked them up to hand to him, something fell from the pocket, landing on the soft grass at her feet. Bending to pick it up, she saw a small black box with a label that said "Trojan."

She held the box in front of her, studying it as if it held some truth she had yet to discover. "What's this? You bought these at the pharmacy, didn't you?" "Yeah," he grinned sheepishly. "Now's a fine time to remember them. Guess I just wasn't thinking straight."

The heat of humiliation rose in Camille's face, burning her skin a bright red. "You bought these because you thought that I'd just... Oh my God. And I did. I just fell back with my legs in the air for you."

She tossed the box and the jeans at his feet, bending to gather the rest of her things. He saw the way her back stiffened, the set of her face and the flashing anger in her eyes. "Camille, I only bought them because I hoped, that's all. I didn't know what to expect."

"Go to hell, Niko," she whispered blandly. "You got what you wanted and now... I can't believe how stupid I am sometimes."

Without another word she walked back to the path that led to the barn. He watched her go, feeling like an asshole without really knowing why. All he'd done was make love to his wife. She'd wanted it too, even if she did protest at first. He wondered when she'd realize that there was no way he would allow her to marry that other guy. There was no way he'd ever let her go again.  Women are so damned unpredictable. 



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 06



Niko returned to the barn to find Camille bent over his friend. The man's head was cradled in her hand, while she held a small bottle of water to his lips. His eyes were closed though he seemed to be hearing what she was telling him.

After attending to Olan's thirst, Camille lowered his head back to the blanket, moving around to tend his wounded shoulder. The man moaned weakly as she carefully removed the old dressing, laying the weeping hole bare. As she turned to prepare a new compress, Niko knelt at her side, intending to help.

She slapped his hand, glaring into his face. When he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him short. "You have nothing to say to me."

The warm caress of his hand trailed down her back as she applied the first compress to the wounded man. She flinched away from the touch, refusing to look at Niko as he knelt behind her. Working quickly, she applied the second compress, speaking soothingly as the man on the blanket moaned pitiably. 

"Make yourself useful," she barked over her shoulder. "Get some wood and make a fire. We need to get some food in him."

"Don't push me, Camille," Niko warned, but he got up to do her bidding.

Returning her attention to her husband's friend, she finished the bandage and tucked a blanket around his shivering form. How could she have been such a moron as to screw Niko? Everything she'd worked so hard for, all the effort she'd put into rebuilding her life was lost to her now. How could she face Doug now that she'd betrayed him? 

He loved her, had been waiting so long for her, and in less than two days she'd given herself to another man. Yes, the man was her husband, but she'd lost him eight years ago. He'd made his choice when he'd left her, abandoned her without a word. 

"He's a pain in the ass."

The voice that spoke was barely audible, weak and whispery, laced with pain. Camille looked into the glassy eyes of the injured man. "Nice to have you awake," she said gently, laying the back of her hand on his forehead. "You have to be still now. I'm Camille Pavli."

"Olan Jeffreys," he rasped, a weak smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Forgive me for not getting up."

Camille smiled in spite of herself and the circumstances of their meeting. "Don't worry about it." 

"Don't be too hard on him, Camille. Niko's an idiot sometimes, but he really does love you."

She snorted in response, packing away the unused supplies, looking everywhere but at her husband's friend. "If he loves me so much, why did he take so long to let me know that he was alive?"

"It was too dangerous," he groaned on a sputtering cough. "He was trying to protect you."

"Oh, yeah. You guys always think we poor, defenseless little females need our big, strong, hairy men to save us. I'm not a child, Olan. I don't need protecting. What I needed was a man I could trust. He deceived me. I believed he was dead and he did nothing to change that, to let me know that he was alive. He just left me to rot in grief. Fuck him."

Olan tried to speak again, coughing weakly, gasping for breath. Opening the bottle of water, she brought it to his lips, holding his head while he drank.

"I'm sorry, Olan," she murmured. "Don't talk anymore. Just rest. In a little bit we'll have some soup ready for you."

The man nodded feebly, his eyes fluttering closed as she settled his head on the blanket once again. Looking at the pallor of the man's skin, she wondered if he would survive. His eyes looked sunken with dark shadows under them. The pain he was experiencing was etched in the white lines that encircled his grimacing mouth. Olan was suffering terribly and there was little she could do to offer him comfort.

Niko returned to the barn to find his wife sitting beside his friend, holding the man's hand, a look of deep concern on her lovely face. Her expression turned to one of distaste when she spied his returning form in the open door. She turned back to Olan without sparing him another glance as he bent to the task of building a small fire on the dirt floor.

"Why don't you get some sleep," Niko said softly. "I'll feed him."

Still refusing to speak to -- or even look at -- him , Camille climbed to her feet, presenting him with her back as she walked to the car. The backseat looked as inviting as any bed. She hadn't realized how tired she'd grown. 

The last two days were taking their toll -- hiding out, car chases and constant paranoia were enough to drain the most stalwart of people. All that coupled with the emotional trauma of finding out her husband was still alive and the intensity of their pond-side tryst had sapped her reserves. She was more tired than she could ever remember being. 

Practically throwing herself down on the upholstery, she curled into a ball, her eyes fluttering closed. The car door nearest her head opened almost immediately, wrenching an exasperated sigh from her lungs. 

"You left this at the pond," Niko said, hovering at the open door. When she didn't respond or even look at him, he laid the object in the floorboard. "I want you to keep it with you at all times, Camille. It could save your life."

She opened one eye, peering at the small handgun on the floor before closing her eye again. "Whatever."

Slamming the door shut, Niko turned on his heel, stalking back to the prone body on the floor. "Katarameni gynaika," he muttered under his breath, pulling up an old crate to sit on.

"I don't have a clue what you said, old buddy, but it didn't sound nice."

Finding some small relief in seeing his friend's eyes open, Niko shot him a sardonic smile. "I was cursing at my wife. She's a stubborn woman."

"Cut her some slack," Olan rasped. "She's had a pretty big shock."

"I know, but she can't seem to get her mind around having her husband back or give up the fool notion that she's going to be someone else's wife. Dammit, she's already married -- to me."

Olan tried to laugh, the sound coming out as a painful, sputtering cough. "You really are an asshole, you know that? Did it ever occur to you that maybe she doesn't want to be your wife anymore? Maybe she just doesn't love you any longer."

"Nope," Niko grinned. "Especially after what happened outside a little while ago."

"Have a good time?" Olan's brows drew together in a frown. "That was a fool thing to do, pal. That lady is harboring a pretty big hurt. Screwing her's only gonna make it worse," he rasped, falling silent for a minute, gritting his teeth as a stab of pain shot through him.

"That's not the way I see it. I just spent a little time making love to my wife, showing her how much we still mean to each other."

"Stupid Greek," Olan snorted, sputtering once more. "All about the prick and no feeling for the heart. Your Camille is hurtin' pretty bad. She's feeling betrayed, thinks you intentionally let her suffer, believing you were dead."

Holding the bottle of water to Olan's lips, Niko scoffed at his words, "She'll get over that soon enough -- once she realizes that I did it for her own good..."

Olan cut him off, choking on the water. 

"That's the problem," he wheezed, his eyes fluttering for a moment before he fixed Niko with a stern glance. "You made that decision for her, treated her like a brainless kid. I think," he groaned, closing his eyes, "she feels like you didn't trust her to know what was best for her. Betrayal comes on a lot of different levels." 

"Don't talk anymore, Olan," Niko said, noting the exhaustion on his friend's face and the weakness in his voice. "Get some rest."

"I swear I don't know how a man who has women falling at his feet can be so ignorant about the female mind," Olan whispered, drifting off to sleep.

Niko tended the small fire he'd started, opening a can of Campbell's to heat for his friend. As he stirred the food in the small kettle that was part of his camp gear, he thought about what Olan had said. Am I really that obtuse about women?

The answer, of course, was yes. Before he and Camille had actually started dating, he'd been just like any other teenage boy, high on his own hormones, looking to score with any girl that walked his way. He'd never really had to spend any time or effort wooing them. The small handful of women he'd come across after his enforced exile had been no different. They'd just seemed to gravitate to him, offering themselves up like sacrificial lambs. 

He thought about those girls from his school days -- Mavis Connelly, Georgia Perkins, Cheryl Ellege, and a drove of others whose names he couldn't even remember. Some he'd deflowered, others already had some experience. When he'd finished with them he'd just shrugged them off like yesterday's dirty laundry. He'd broken some hearts, especially Cheryl's. The girl had been crazed when he'd told her he didn't want to see her anymore. 

That had been at the same time that he'd started feeling more and more attracted to Camille. She'd been the prettiest girl in school, and they'd always been friends. When he'd tried to get closer to her, however, she'd rebuked him, telling him she'd no intention of being another notch on his belt. She'd always been a person who knew what she wanted, and more importantly, what she didn't want.

It wasn't until after he'd gone to college and high school was almost over for her that she'd finally consented to going out on a date with him. For the first time in his life he'd found himself at a loss. He'd had no idea how to get closer to her. He hadn't wanted to make any mistakes, didn't want to run the risk of losing her. 

It had been a new sensation for him, and a scary one to boot. She'd seemed to understand his predicament, had taken him by the hand, had taught him, with infinite patience, how to love. It wasn't until their wedding night that she'd given her body to him, an honor she'd bestowed only on him. Things had been so easy in those days, never seeming to be any real trouble between them. 

Thinking of the scar on her wrist now, the self-inflicted wound where she'd nearly ended her own life, he tried to understand what it must be like to be in her shoes, to feel what she felt. No matter what direction he looked at it from, he still thought her self-righteous attitude was an act. Her woman's pride had been damaged, that's all. She'll come around, he thought, just as soon as she's done making me suffer for it.

That last thought brought a sly smile to his face. She'd torture him a while longer, tease him with her fiery ways, then she'd forgive him. As soon as her pride was appeased she'd open up to him again.

The smile faded as he remembered the way her face had looked as she told him how she'd gotten that scar. The anguish, the tormented pain, and the sudden pallor of her face had been no act. She'd truly suffered for his absence, had known real hardship, and he knew she blamed him for it. 

It wasn't all his fault, though. He'd had no choice, had been forced to disappear by forces beyond his control. Why couldn't she understand that, accept it for what it was? He'd never wanted to leave her without a word, but it was the only way to keep her safe.

"Fuck!" he fairly bellowed as the soup in the kettle boiled over, splashing star-shaped pasta and broth on the back of his hand. 

He set the pot down on the crate, rubbing his injured flesh. Pacing away from the fire while the soup cooled he found himself standing next to the car where Camille lay. One glance through the window told him that she was asleep, her face soft and angelic in slumber. 

A sudden urge to crawl in next to her, take her in his arms, nearly overwhelmed him. There was once a day when doing that would have brought her turning to him, sleepily pressing her warm body to his. He doubted she'd do that now, given her mood when she crawled onto the seat to sleep. 

Running a tired hand over his face, he continued to watch her, seeing her muscles tense periodically as she dreamed. Her brows drew together, frowning slightly at the visions in her sleep, only to relax again. Her hair, nearly dry now, splayed over the dark upholstery in a tangled mass, framing her golden complexion. 

The glass of the window that separated them was a symbol of the invisible wall that stood between them. She was close enough to touch, but he couldn't quite reach her. In the first months of their marriage, she'd been so open with him, telling him everything in her mind and heart. Now there was no way to fathom the workings of her mind or the thoughts that she kept hidden there. 

Olan was right. He should never have seduced her by the pond. Maybe he was being unfair, expecting her to feel the same way she had when they'd first married, as if there'd been no separation of years, no sense of loss. So many things about her had changed since he'd been gone; perhaps it was true that she no longer loved him.

"No," he whispered to himself. "She's mine and always will be."

Still he was not so sure as he moved to the back of the car, opening the trunk and pulling out his bedroll. Opening the back door quietly, he unrolled the sleeping bag, covered his wife, carefully tucking the edges around her. She made a soft, whimpering sound at his touch, clutching the blanket under her chin. 

He closed the door gently, walking back to Olan with the task of feeding the injured man the cooling soup in mind. Niko poured some of the soup into a tin cup, knelt next to his friend, nudging him awake.

"You gotta eat, pal," he whispered when the injured man opened his eyes.

Taking a whiff of the food held before him, Olan grimaced painfully. "Pass," he snorted, turning his head away.

"Hey, I'm already in enough trouble with Camille. She said I have to feed you and that's what I'm going to do, so open up."

"Since when did you start taking orders from women?"

Niko grinned sheepishly, his face coloring slightly. "Since she beat hell out of me."

"Ah, so that's what happened to your face. I wondered. From the look of you, I'd say she's got a pretty good right."

"And claws like a cat," Niko chuckled. "Come on, open up."

Olan obediently took a sip from the cup, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he choked down the bland fare. "I hate canned soup," he complained, preparing to take another drink.

"It's your own fault, dummy, for letting yourself be shot."

"Yeah, rub it in, asshole."

Niko lowered the cup, looking directly at his friend. "I really want to thank you, Olan. I'm sorry I got you into this mess. I never would've gotten Camille out if it hadn't been for you. I'd've taken that bullet for you if I could."

"Oh, shit. Don't start going soft on me now," Olan rasped, trying to adjust his position on the blanket. "You spend a couple of nights alone with a woman and you turn into Mr. Sensitive." He stopped to catch a breath, flashing a painful smile at Niko. "I hope you don't think we'll be holding hands in the shower after this."

"Cute, pal. I was just trying to thank you."

"Well, don't. You would've done the same for me."

"Nah, no woman would be stupid enough to hook up with you. Now eat."

After managing to choke down half the soup, Olan closed his eyes again, drifting off into a fitful sleep. It was time to change the bandages again, but Niko decided to let the man sleep. Camille had been correct when she'd said that they needed to get him to a more sanitary location. The barn was a filthy place for a man with a gunshot wound. 

Niko wrestled with the decision of what to do next. His friend was too weak from loss of blood and the fever that still ravaged his body. The pain had to be excruciating, from the look of misery on the man's face. Niko remembered that pain, waking up in a hospital with white-hot spasms in his chest. He'd been given morphine, but there was nothing to give Olan, except the over-the-counter remedies they'd purchased at the pharmacy in St. Louis. They didn't even have antibiotics to fight the infection.  

They needed someplace to go, but it appeared that his enemies knew about his network of safe houses. If they'd found the one in St. Louis, it was a sure bet that they knew about the others. A hotel was definitely out of the question, too public. Niko rubbed his eyes, fatigue gnawing away at his mind. 

"You need sleep."

He looked up to see Camille standing a few feet away. Wrapped in the sleeping bag, her hair a tangled mess, with dark circles etched under her eyes, Niko thought she'd never looked so beautiful. He would have given anything that was his if he could enfold her in his arms at that moment. The wary expression on her lovely face told him not to dare.

"I'm all right."

"You're worried about him, aren't you?" she asked softly, inclining her head to the sleeping form on the blanket.

"Yeah. We need to get him someplace safe."

"He needs proper care, Niko -- a hospital, a doctor. This is no place for him."

"I know, but we can't chance it," Niko said, looking at his friend. Scooping the jet-black hair from his eyes, he returned his gaze to his wife. "I don't know what to do. They'll be watching for us everywhere. There are a couple of more places that I usually use, but I'm sure they'll know about them. I gotta get him out of here, but... where?"

"You can't think straight like this. Get some sleep. I'll stay with him."

"No, go back to bed. I'm good."

"Jesus, Niko. Do you always have to be so in-charge? Get your ass to bed. I can sleep while you drive. It'll be dark again in a few hours, and I know you. You'll want to leave." 

Camille turned her back, walking to the door to feel the sunshine on her face. Despite the heat of the mid-summer day, she was chilled clear to the bone. Her body was tired but her mind was racing. There had to be a way out of this mess. 

A few minutes later, she looked over her shoulder, seeing her stubborn husband still sitting where she'd left him. "Do you remember my friend, Allinson Varble?"

"Vaguely," Niko answered. "Why?" 

"Her divorce settlement a few years ago left her with a house down in the Ozarks. I've been there with her a couple of times. She keeps threatening to sell it but I think she likes it too much; plus, it irritates her ex-husband to know that she enjoys it. I think I could find it and I know where the spare key is hidden. It's a great place, out in the middle of nowhere."

Niko sat up a little straighter, his sharp eyes meeting hers. "Any chance that she might show up in the next few days?"

"Not likely. She just got back from her vacation last week. Allinson usually only goes down there once or twice a year."

"And you're sure you can find it? How far do you think it is?"

"It's a few hours away. I'd hate to carry Olan down there in the back seat of your car, but once we get him there, he'll have a much better place than this to convalesce."

"That might just do the trick. How many people know about it?"

Camille looked at the man on the blanket, wondering if he could withstand the trip. "Not too many. Allinson only told a couple of us about it. She was afraid that everyone would want to use it and she likes just having it to herself. Can't really blame her."

Niko stood, striding toward her, studying her too closely for her comfort. "Where is it?"

"Just outside a little town called Cabool, about a hundred miles east of Springfield, Missouri." Camille walked away from him, putting the car between them as she searched the interior for a map. Popping her head up over the roof of the vehicle, she added, "We're going to need a map."

"I'll look in Olan's car. Maybe he's got something in there," Niko stated as he strode to the beat-up black Porsche on the other side of the barn.

While he searched, Camille checked on their patient, satisfied that he was resting as comfortably as possible. Pulling herself back to her feet, she dropped the sleeping bag, turning to see Niko walking to the back end of the Taurus after having found what he was looking for. She joined him as he opened the road atlas he'd taken from the Porsche, spreading it across the deck lid.




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 06



"Show me," he said, pointing to the page that depicted the state of Missouri.

Camille covered his hand with hers, looking into his face, seeing the fatigue that plagued him. "Later," she said softly. "Get some rest. I'll study the map and figure out the best course, okay?"

Niko started to protest until he saw the concern in her face. He smiled as he smoothed a silky strand of blond hair from her forehead. "All right, honey. Wake me before dusk, will you?"

Nearly sighing under his touch, Camille pulled her head away from his fingers, reminding herself that she was still angry with him. "Yeah. I'll see if I can't fix us something to eat too."

Shaking his head at her reaction, he strolled away from her, retrieving the discarded sleeping bag to spread out as a bed. He chose a dark corner of the big room to lie down in, draping his arm over his eyes as Camille studied the map. It wasn't long before his exhausted snores filled the air of the barn.

He awoke a few hours later to the sensation of having his foot kicked, only to find his wife standing nearby. The fragrance of something cooking assailed his olfactory senses, sending his stomach into fits of rumbling turbulence. After taking just a minute to rub the sleep out of his eyes, he hauled himself to his full height, surveying his surroundings to make sure all was as it should be.

"What's on the spit?" he asked, his saliva glands working overtime.

"Fish," Camille answered, tending the small fire in the center of the room. "Get the bedroll packed up. Food's about ready."

He gazed at her as she moved in and out of the long shadows cast by the waning light from the open door. The golden light played on her hair, giving her the appearance of wearing an angelic halo, framing her beautiful face.

"Where'd you get fish?" he asked, inspecting the food sizzling over the fire.

"I have my ways," was her cryptic answer. When he cocked an eyebrow at her, she pointed at the article of clothing suspended over the flames to dry. "I used one of the tee shirts we bought as a net. Stuck a forked stick in it and baited the little critters with a few crackers. Took forever, but I wanted to get some protein into Olan."

"You're a hell of a woman, Camille."

"Nice of you to notice. Too bad you didn't see that sooner." Camille picked up one of the skewered fishes, carefully prying it off its stick with a fork. It landed in the tin kettle with a plop, steaming fragrance filling the air around her. "See if you can get this into Olan," she said handing the kettle to Niko.

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a mock salute. "Will there be anything else your little heart desires?"

"Yeah, a shower, a soft bed and my life back," she retorted, hating herself as soon as the words left her mouth. "I'm sorry, Niko. That was uncalled-for."

"Yes, it was, but I'll live," he muttered, taking dinner to his sleeping friend. 

Feeling properly guilty, Camille continued her task, cooking the remaining fish, laying the finished product in the larger kettle from Niko's mess kit and placing the lid on it. She left the food by the fire to keep warm while she tidied up the small "camp," packing what they would not need immediately before leaving on the next leg of their journey.

"What kind of fish is this?" Niko asked, dumping the remains of Olan's meal onto the fire.

"Bluegill, mostly, and a couple of bass. They're kinda small but should be good. Help yourself."

Niko lifted the lid on the large kettle, inhaling a whiff of the fresh fish. "Aren't you having any?"

"Yeah, in a bit. Leave me a couple, will ya?"

"Where'd you learn to fish with a tee shirt? Doesn't sound like you at all."

"But you don't really know me, do you? I read a lot and I have a brain. I know how to think and figure things out."

Niko shook his head, knowing there was an insult directed at him somewhere in her remark. "You ever going to get over your mad?"

"I don't know, sweet-tush. Ask me in a couple of years," she snapped, jamming items into a bag.

"What do I have to do to see you smile again?"

"Smile? You want me to smile?" she snorted. With a shake of her head she turned to face him. "What is there to smile at? I'd really like to know."

"Well," he said between bites, "we're together, for one thing." 

"Oh, yeah," she flung at him. "That's a real blessing. Gee, life can go on now."

"Goddammit!" he hissed. "I went through hell for you. How about a little gratitude here?"

"Gratitude? Jesus, you really are an arrogant bastard," she said, slamming the bag on the hood of the Ford Taurus. "There's something you should know, asshole. You didn't go through hell for me. You did it for yourself. Just don't expect me to be grateful for it."

"You're wrong, Camille," he returned, setting his food aside, striding to her purposefully. "I suffered nineteen kinds of hell to get back to you. I worried about you every day, always thought about you. You were never more than a minute from my thoughts."

She slapped his hand away as he reached out to touch her face. "You suffered, your thoughts -- do you even hear yourself? It's all about you. You didn't suffer shit, butthead. You have no concept of what suffering is."

Niko glared at her, the heat of his rage burning in his eyes. "I took four bullets and laid in a hospital for weeks before they knew if I would survive. It took months for me to recover. Then I had to fight our nation's enemies, traveling the world, trying to get clear and come home. Trust me when I tell you I've been through hell."

She met the fire of his gaze, undaunted as she stared back with all the pain of the past eight years revealed in her face. "At least you knew I was alive," she whispered so softly he had to strain to hear. "At least you knew where I was. I was never afforded that luxury."

She turned then, walking to Olan to tend his wounds a final time before leaving. Camille found the man watching her, his expression sympathetic. Unable to meet his gaze, she concentrated on changing the dressings and packing the first aid supplies when she was done. His hand caught her arm in his weak grasp when she tried to stand.

"Camille," he said, his voice gruff and low. "Niko has a lot to learn. Just be a little patient with him. He'll come round."

Looking into his blood-shot eyes for the first time since sitting down next to him, she sniffled, biting back tears. "I ran out of patience years ago. I just want to go home."

"He loves you. You know that, don't you?"

"That's his misfortune," she growled through clenched teeth. "I don't know what he expects from me, but he needs to get it through his thick head that I'm going back to my own life when this is over, and he's not part of it."

"You really hate him, don't you? Why?"

Sighing, she gouged her hair with her splayed fingers, yanking it out of her eyes. "I don't hate him, Olan. I just want him to go away. I spent too many years learning to live again. I don't need him to take that all away. And if I stay with him, he will."

Olan had no choice but to release his tenuous grip on her slender wrist when she pulled away. Niko watched their exchange from a distance, watched as Camille carried the bags of supplies to the car, piling them on the hood before slumping forward, seeming to struggle with something unnamed. 

She was hurting and he knew he was the cause of it. What she'd said had struck him hard. He'd left her in a void of unknowing and uncertainty, left her to fight those demons alone. In all of those years that had separated them, he'd spent little time wondering or worrying about what she'd been going through. Instead he'd focused on returning to her, getting back to the one he loved foremost in his mind. He'd realized that she probably had gone on with her life, but had thought little of what he'd be forcing her to give up when he returned. 

He ached to touch her, to feel her in his arms again, but for the first time in his life, he put someone else's feelings before his own. He decided to leave her alone, let her work it out on her own without pressure from him.

"We'd better get moving," Niko suggested as he walked to the car, opening the trunk. "We'll need to get another vehicle. This one's been compromised."

He hesitated a moment, glancing at Camille as she pulled herself upright. She grabbed up some of the bags to carry to the back of the car without glancing at Niko as she passed him. Bending at the fire, he put the lid back on the pan of fish, picked it up before kicking dirt over the embers of the fire, taking time to cover it completely. 

After depositing the still-warm food on the front seat of the car he turned to see his wife carefully removing the blanket from his friend before helping him to put on a fresh tee shirt. She then secured the arm on his injured side to his torso with a strip of cloth. Niko went to help her, lifting Olan, carrying him to the car. 

There was a small argument when she decided to sit in the back with his friend, insisting that she could better see to his comfort than if she was in the front. In the end, Niko gave in, not wanting to upset her further. When they pulled out of the barn with the sun disappearing beneath the horizon, Olan was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, his head nestled comfortably on Camille's lap. 

They'd wound their way back to the main highways, winding through and around small towns and villages when Niko saw a small motor home dealership.

"Camille," he said as he pulled into the lot. "I hate to inform you of this, but you're about to become an accessory to a felony."

"I'm what?" she fairly screeched, jarring Olan out of his peaceful catnap. 

"We need another vehicle. They'll be looking for us in this. I'm going to go in here and steal a small RV. It'll be better for Olan. He can have a bed to lie down in and what looks more natural than a man and wife traveling across country in a camper. I'm sorry, agapi, but I don't think we have much choice."

What he said made sense, but that didn't make it any easier to take. "Just great. Concealed weapons, car chases, grand theft auto -- what's next? Murder?"

"Let's hope it doesn't get to that point," he returned, pulling the car to a stop. "You stay here with him. I'll be back in a minute."

Camille watched him leave, shaking her head and feeling sick to her stomach. She was trying to make up her mind if she should run for her life when the head in her lap moved, a weak voice drawing her attention.

"He knows what he's doing, doll. He and I have gone through worse than this and come out unscathed. Let him do what he needs to."

She looked down at Olan's pale face, saw the pain in his tired eyes. "I wish I had your faith. He's going to get us all killed."

The injured man laughed, choking as a spasm of pain wracked his body. "I have enough faith for both of us. It's not the first time he's pulled my fat out of the fire."

"Your fat wouldn't be in the fire if it weren't for him," she retorted. 

"True," he chuckled. "But it's not the first time that an agent got his ass in trouble over the woman he loves."

Snorting derisively, Camille adjusted the blanket around the man. "Stop talking. Save your strength," she ordered.

They sat in silence for a few minutes until Niko returned, behind the wheel of an older Southwind motorhome. "Oh, shit," Camille muttered. "He found the biggest one on the lot."

There was a chuckle from the head in her lap. "I wonder if it's a Freudian thing."

"Cute," she snapped. "I better go help him."

Carefully extracting herself from under his head, she heard Olan trying to stifle a moan as she got out. "Think you could've found something bigger?" she shot at Niko as he stepped out of the rolling house.

"Hey, it's the smallest one on the lot. It's only a twenty-seven footer. I'll get Olan," he said, handing her the keys to the Taurus. "You get the things out of the trunk, and don't forget your gun. I want you to have it with you."

Camille rolled her eyes, snatching the keys out of his hand. By the time she'd moved all the things from the car to the RV, Niko had Olan installed in the bunk in the back. She had to admit that she felt better knowing the man had a more comfortable bed than the backseat of the Taurus but she still hated having a part in the theft. 

"How'd you get the keys to this thing?" she asked Niko as she took the passenger seat in the front, watching him turn the key in the ignition.

He handed her a small metal box, the lock punched out. "Dealership lock boxes. They attach to the outside of vehicle windows, with the keys to the vehicle inside. This dealer must not be worried about thieves. These things aren't exactly tamper-proof. They're intended to be used during business hours." He opened the driver's door, turning to look at her. "Can you drive this thing?"

"Why? Aren't you coming with us?" she asked, almost panicking.

"I have to ditch the car. With any luck, we'll put a day or two behind us before the owner's notice it's gone. Can you drive it?"

"I guess so. Do you want me to follow you?"

"Yeah, just stay behind me until I find a place to leave the Taurus," Niko said, stepping out of the motorhome. 

Camille crawled over the console, getting behind the wheel and shifting into drive. She waited while Niko started the Ford, followed him off the lot and onto the highway. After several miles, he pulled onto a gravel road that appeared to go nowhere and into an empty field. 

In the dark it was difficult to see what he was doing as he walked around the car before returning to the motorhome. Camille climbed back over the console, taking the passenger seat when Niko opened the driver's door to get in. He backed the camper out of the field, heading back to the highway at a fast clip. They hadn't gone far when she heard the unmistakable sound of an explosion behind them.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded, glancing in the side mirror to see the flames and smoke billowing from the field behind them.

"I would imagine it's an old Ford Taurus exploding," he answered with a grin. "I just love those loud booms."

"Oh, my God," she returned. "You really are nuts."

"Nope. Just trying to destroy the evidence of our existence."

She threw her hands in the air, shaking her head at his foolishness. "I'm going back there to check on Olan. I've written out the directions on the paper next to your seat. Holler if you can't read something."

With those words she headed to the back of the vehicle, pulling the accordion door to the partition shut behind her when she entered the back room. Niko watched her in the rearview mirror, noting that she appeared to be thinner. He would have to see to it that she rested while Olan convalesced. She needed food and a chance to let her mind relax, to let the stress of the past few days ease. Despite the situation, he found himself looking forward to spending some time with her in a secluded cabin. He'd use the time to get to know her again, to reacquaint her with him, the thought leaving a happy grin on his face.

At that same moment, hundreds of miles away, a man spoke into the telephone he held, the muscle that twitched in his jaw the only indication of the fury he held at bay. "I don't wish to hear excuses. The method of your incompetence does not concern me," his cultured voice spoke in low, calm tones. "I want his head brought to me or I shall have yours served up in its stead. Is that clear?"

He dropped the receiver in the cradle without waiting for an answer. Plucking an imagined bit of lint from the sleeve of his perfectly tailored Brioni suit, he stood, smoothing the fabric. It was cut to flawlessly enhance his well-toned frame and suited the impeccable surroundings of his cavernous study. He was a man accustomed to getting exactly what he wanted and what he wanted was to have this whole unpleasantness behind him. 

It would never do to have any loose ends unraveling his dealings at this juncture. The idea of not having complete control over all he surveyed was abhorrent to him. It was an offense he simply would not bear.



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 07



A Cloak of Lies By Molly Wens

Chapter 7

Camille threw an arm across her eyes to block out the beam of the overhead lamp that penetrated her sleep. She moaned, pulling away from the hand that grasped her shoulder. 

"Agapi," an achingly familiar voice said. "Time to get up."

Her heart jumped in her chest. Was that Niko's voice? Her Niko? How could that be? 

Then a torrent of memories flooded her sleep-fogged brain, reminding her of the events of the last few days. Niko was alive, and he'd stolen her away from her home and her carefully reconstructed life. 

Fresh anger, and an equally deep sadness, drew a pained growl from her throat. Shoving his hand away, she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her muscles groaned in protest, aching from her new life on the run. Glancing around, she realized that she was still in the stolen motor home with the first gray streaks of predawn light illuminating the horizon outside the window. 

Olan was asleep, or unconscious, on the bed next to her. She didn't remember crawling into the sack with him, but judging by the look on Niko's face, it probably wasn't the wisest thing she'd ever done. He looked positively enraged. 

"What's the matter, Honey?" she asked with a voice dripping poison. "Seeing your wife in bed with another man too upsetting for you? Deal with it."

"You two at it again?"

Both turned to see Olan's pale face, an amused grin hiding his obvious pain. Camille was instantly contrite for having disturbed his rest. Carefully pulling herself off the bed, she bent over his body to check his bandages. 

"Your fever's down a bit," she said while laying a hand on his forehead. "Think you could drink some water?"

Olan nodded slightly, grimacing at the pain that the movement caused. Niko picked up the bottle from the side table to hand to her. Camille snatched it from him without glancing at his face, holding it to Olan's lips. He drank eagerly, sputtering softly when he tried to swallow too fast.

"We gotta get you inside, Buddy," Niko said, pulling the blanket from his friend. "There's a soft bed in there with your name on it."

The new hideout was perfect. Nestled in the densely forested land deep in the Ozark Mountains, it allowed them creature comforts as well as seclusion. The large home was made almost entirely of logs and stood two stories high. 

The three bedrooms were situated upstairs, each with its own exit to the balcony that spanned the top floor. Camille had insisted on putting Olan in the middle room, effectively putting a buffer between her bedroom and the one that Niko would occupy. 

She had to smile to herself when he growled about it, but she refrained from comment until he announced that he was going to dispose of the motor home, and would likely be gone all day.

"You can't go out there. It'll be light soon."

"It has to be done, Camille. I need to take it as far away as possible and find us some alternate wheels. We also need supplies."

"You can get supplies in Cabool. There're a couple of grocery stores there, you know."

Shaking his head, Niko tried to cool his irritation before speaking again.

"I can't take that chance. We have to stay as quiet as possible and make sure that nobody sees us. It's better I do it this way. I can get what we need in Springfield or some other town."

She frowned at him, casting a glance up the stairway toward the bedrooms. 

"At least get a couple hours' rest before you go. You look like hell."

"I'm touched by your concern," he growled, running a hand through his hair. "Just take care of Olan till I get back."

Then he was gone without a backward glance, leaving her alone with an injured man and her growing paranoia. If only Allinson had kept a phone hooked up at the cabin, things would be easier. Camille desperately wanted to speak to Doug, if only to let him know that she was still alive and to hear the reassurance of his voice.

She would have to find a telephone somewhere. The suspicion that Niko had so carefully nurtured in her began to take hold. She could easily sneak out while he was gone, and hike the few miles to town. There she would find a phone and could make the call, but what if she were seen? Besides, there was no way she could leave Olan alone. What if something happened and he needed help?

Camille was reduced to pacing the floor, trapped in her own indecision. Her nerves were frazzled, her mind on edge. The dull throb that had started at the base of her skull the moment she woke in the motor home had developed into a full-blown headache. On top of that was the burning sensation in her stomach that made her want to vomit. 

She realized that it had been days since she had eaten a real meal. It had also been too long since Olan had eaten. An hour later, after spooning thin broth into his mouth, she sat staring at her own bowl of canned chowder. She just couldn't bring herself to eat the bland soup, no matter how hard she tried. 

Alternating between walking the main floor of the cabin and climbing the stairs to check on Olan, she found herself exhausted. A beautiful day had dawned, but wariness kept her inside. Now, as darkness approached, every sound in and around the cabin had her jumping in fright. 

How long would it be before Niko found his way back? What was keeping him? The questions grew louder in her brain until she wanted to scream. 

She had no idea when it was that she had dozed off, or what it was that woke her, but she found herself sitting bolt upright on the sofa with a long, slow chill running the length of her spine. She sat for a moment, scarcely daring to breathe in the darkened cabin, listening. Camille was just about to berate herself for being afraid of the boogeyman, when she heard a car door slam.

Clamping her teeth down on her bottom lip to keep from screaming, she scampered to the kitchen in search of the gun Niko had insisted she keep. Just as her fingers closed around the grip, she heard the front door open. 

It had to be Niko. Who else could it be? But why didn't he call out to her or turn on the lights? She pressed herself against the wall just inside the kitchen door. The blood drumming in her ears was so loud she could barely hear the person's footsteps as he slowly crossed the parlor floor. 

She heard the creak of the swinging kitchen door as it started to open. As if in slow motion, the door was pushed inch by inch until Camille could see the toe of a shoe silhouetted at the bottom. 

With all her strength, she threw her body against the door. There was a loud thud and the pained yelp of a man whose face had just collided with solid wood, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor. 

Grabbing the edge of the still-swinging door, Camille threw it open, planting her feet wide to hold it there, pointing the gun at the face of the intruder. 

"Thee mou, woman," Niko hissed. "Are you trying to kill me?"

Her stomach did a flip. She gulped at the air around her to keep herself from puking all over him. It was sheer force of will that moved her thumb slowly off the hammer and eased her finger from the trigger. 

Niko reached up, took the gun gently from her cold fingers and worked his way out from between her legs and off the floor. Laying the gun on a side table, he reached out to touch her. 

Camille jerked away from his hand, jumping back to let the door swing shut again. She walked to the table, her legs barely able to support her as she pulled out a chair and sat down. 

Burying her head in her hands, she realized that she would have shot the man. She would have looked him in the eye and killed him as if his life didn't matter. His being Niko only made that reality worse. What was she turning into?

The ceiling lamp flashed on. The glare would have been blinding had she not had her face covered with her hands. She could hear Niko moving about behind her, turning on the water, opening cabinets. 

"You okay?" he asked from somewhere to her left.

When she didn't answer him, he moved closer. His hand touched her shoulder while he gently pried her fingers from her face. 

"Camille? It's all right. You're safe now."

"No. It's not all right. Nothing is all right," she whispered, staring at his feet. "I almost shot you."

"But you didn't," he said soothingly as he crouched down to look at her face. "I'm just glad you did what I told you. You kept the gun..."

Her arms shot out, shoving him away and knocking him off balance. She was on her feet and across the room, glaring at his sprawling form on the kitchen floor. 

"I'm turning into a killer. I'm becoming like you," she accused. "How many people have you murdered, Niko?"

"None," he snapped. "Whenever I killed someone it was out of self-defense."

"How many?"

"I don't know. I didn't keep count."

He pulled himself from the floor, his face like a thundercloud ready to burst. The man was as angry as she had ever seen him, but she didn't care.

"I won't let you do this. I won't be like you," she said, backing away as he advanced. "Let me go. I want to go home."

"Don't be an idiot. They'd get you before you got to the front door. I did all of this for you, Camille. I came back for you."

"No, you didn't."

Her flat statement stopped him in his tracks. 

"Just what the hell do you think I did it for?"

"Yourself. You're an arrogant prick, Niko. You always were. I just didn't see it until you decided to come back from the dead. Everything you've done was for your own wants and needs. You never took anyone else's thoughts or feelings into consideration."

"Oh, and you're so selfless," he retorted. "All you've done since I saved your life was talk about getting away from me and back to your beau-hunk. It's all about how your life was interrupted and your future that was ruined. Did you ever stop for one minute to think what I went through to get to you? And what about Olan? He almost got killed trying to help..."

"Trying to help you," she yelled, cutting him off. "You almost got your partner killed, chasing your selfish dreams of a past you can never get back."

She advanced on him then, poking a long finger into his chest. 

"Get this through your head, secret agent-man. There is no 'us' anymore. You walked out. You left me to die with a broken heart. Well, I survived you. You hear me? I survived."

Niko surprised her by taking a step back, turning his face away from her. 

"I'm sorry, Camille. If I could change it all, I would. You're all I ever wanted... When I woke up in that hospital and they told me I had to stay away..."

He turned to look at her again, his dark eyes nearly tearing a hole in her soul. The pain he revealed to her was real and more forlorn than anything he had shown her so far. It stabbed at her heart, making her hate herself for the words she had hurled so carelessly at him.

"You're bleeding," she said, only now seeing the crimson streak that trailed down the right side of his face.

"Yeah, well, I got hit in the face with a door."

"Serves you right for sneaking around in the dark," she said with little conviction. "Does it hurt?"

"Like you care..."

"I do care, Niko," she sighed, stepping forward. "Let me have a look."

"Ouch. Damn, woman. Take it easy."

"Stop whining, you big baby. I barely touched you. Sit down so I can clean it up."

She found a towel, wetting it at the sink. As she turned back to him, she saw the way he looked at her, the sadness in his eyes. The emotion those soulful eyes stirred in her made her want to kick herself. Why was she feeling sorry for him?

"Don't look at me like that," she murmured as she raised the towel to his face.

"Like what?"

"Like a lost puppy."

"Sorry. Just wondering when you'll decide to forgive me."

"When hell freezes," she groused, taking a vicious stab at the cut above his eye. 

He grunted in pain, flinching away from her hand. Feeling contrite, she took a deep breath and tried once again to be gentle as she cleaned the wound. As she leaned closer, his scent reached her nostrils. He had always smelled like wind, rain and all things masculine.

She felt the warmth of his hand as it settled over the curve of her hip, felt the way her body responded to his touch. Gritting her teeth, she tried to focus on first aid and not the sudden desire to get lost in his arms.

"You need a couple of stitches in this," she murmured. 

"It'll heal," he said, pulling her hand from his face. "Agapi, I love you. You know that, don't you?"

"I know you think you do, Niko."

"What would it take to prove it to you?"

"Let me go."

"No," he growled fiercely, seizing her arms.

He stood, dragging her against him as his chair toppled backwards. 

"I won't let you go. I can't. You're mine, damn it."

"Yours? You mean you own me? I'm not a piece of steak, idiot. You can't just order me, carve me up to your liking and consume me. I'm my own person now."

"That's not the way I meant it, and you know it. We belong together, Camille."

"We used to," she whispered, suddenly feeling close to tears. "I used to pray to you at night, used to beg you to come back. But you didn't. I was so alone, Niko. I didn't want to believe them, but I had to let you go or die. So I finally accepted your death. I finally had to face the truth that you were gone forever.

"Now you have to do the same for me. I need you to let me go and let me get on with my life."

His features hardened into a mask of fury. She thought he was going to explode. Then his expression changed to one of sorrow and finally to that of resignation. 

"I'll let you go, Camille," he rasped. "I'll let you go after I get you someplace safe. You can wait till then to be rid of me, can't you?"

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his wounded expression. Nodding, she pulled back slowly, feeling his hands release her arms. She wondered why there was a sudden burning pain in her chest or why she felt like falling apart. 

***

"What did you expect?" Olan said a few days later, his sharp eyes watching Niko and making him uncomfortable. "You can't force a woman to love you."

"I don't need to hear it, Pal."

"Growling at me ain't gonna fix it, you know. You knew going in that she has a new life now. You didn't really expect her to take one look at her long-dead husband and fall back with her legs in the air, did you?"

"Shut up and eat your damned eggs," Niko said, turning to look out the window. 

He felt like hell. His head ached from the stress of walking on metaphorical eggshells all the time. He was tired from all the running and the sleepless nights spent tossing, wondering why his wife no longer wanted anything to do with him. 

Camille had spoken to him only when forced in the days since he had returned to the cabin to get his skull dented by the kitchen door. They'd had a fight, a bad one and he'd promised to let her go. 

He'd been regretting that promise since the moment the words flew from his mouth. There was no way he was going to be able to keep it. He might just as well cut his own jugular as to turn loose of his only reason for living. 

She was giving him no cause for hope, either. Camille kept to herself, locked away in her room for hours on end. The only time she came out was when she was sure that he wasn't around. What little he'd seen of her only told him how much she was suffering inside. She was growing thinner, paler with each passing day. 

He had brought food to her, even left it outside her door when she'd refused to open up, but she had eaten little. The woman was wasting away and there seemed to be nothing he could do about it. Things had to change or she would be too weak and too sick to keep up when it was time to run again.

"You gotta do something, Niko," Olan said around the bite he'd just taken. "When she came in to check on me last night, she didn't look so good. This whole thing's eating her alive."

"You think I don't know that? I've tried. She won't talk to me. She won't eat."

"From the sound of the traffic in the next room, she doesn't sleep much either."

"I know. I hear her pacing up and down the stairs all night."

Niko turned to face the bed where his friend lay. 

"How long do you think she can keep this up?" Niko asked earnestly. 

"I don't know. She looked to me like she was ready to keel over any minute. If I were you, I'd get in there and make sure she eats something."

"What am I supposed to do, just shove the food down her throat with a ram rod?"

"She'd tear you a new one," Olan laughed. "That's something I'd pay money to see. No, my friend. You're going to have to go in there and humble yourself. Beg, if you have to. Do whatever it takes to make her come out of it. Whatever you decide, you better do it fast. I'll be ready to go in another day or two."

"You ready to get out of this bed and try your legs?" Niko asked, taking the empty plate from Olan.

"Yeah. Been layin' around too long as it is."

Setting the plate aside, Niko bent to offer a hand, grasping Olan's good arm. Once on his feet, Olan took a minute to get his balance before taking a few tentative steps across the room. 

"She's a good woman, Niko. She deserves a hell of a lot better than what she got from life."

"Better than what she got from me, you mean," Niko said, holding out his arms in case he needed to keep the other man from falling.

"Yeah. Listen, Niko. You didn't have a lot of choice in all of this, but you made a mistake going after her. You shoulda left it up to the Company to protect her."

"Oh, right. That turned out so well. The assholes had her staked out as bait. If we hadn't gotten there..." 

Niko let his voice trail off, not wanting to say aloud what might have happened if they hadn't gotten there in time.

"Did it occur to you that the only time she was in real danger was the minute you decided to get to her? Jesus, man. Think. They didn't swarm in on her house until you showed yourself. You're the reason she's on the run now."

"You're a real prick, Olan."

"I know it, partner, and so are you."

It galled Niko to no end that his friend and partner of nearly eight years was right. That's why, several hours later, he found himself waiting outside Camille's door, ready to beg if need be. 

"I know you're in there, Camille. I just want to talk."

There was silence, the void of sound nearly deafening in the shadowy hallway. He was about to knock again when he heard a shuffle in the room beyond the door. Then the door opened, just enough for him to see her gaunt face through.

"What is it?"

"I want you to come downstairs... I mean, would you please come downstairs? I fixed dinner and thought it would be nice to sit with you to eat."

"I'm not hungry, Niko."

He blocked the door from closing with his hand, resisting the urge to shove it open and yank her out. 

"Please, Camille. I'm worried about you. Just come downstairs. You used to think I was a good cook."

"I'm not dressed for dinner," she said, stepping back from the door. 

As the door opened a little farther, he got a good look at her. She was dressed in a ratty old robe the like of which he'd only seen on the old woman that lived next door to his family when he was growing up. He had to stifle a grin. 

"Where the hell did you get that?" he said, trying not to laugh.

"I found it in the closet. Allinson must've left it on one of her visits," she said, looking at his face. "Oh, go ahead and laugh. At least it's not those filthy jeans I've been wearing all week."

He let a chuckle slip before he sobered.

"You look beautiful to me. I don't care what you wear. Just come eat."

She sighed, stepping back to sink onto the edge of the bed. After a few moments she looked up, shrugging her shoulders.

"Let me wash my face and hands. I'll be down in a minute."




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 07



Niko jogged down the stairs feeling lighter than he had in days. He returned to the kitchen to make sure that he had everything ready for her. If he did this right, maybe he could talk to her, make her understand how he felt. It was a slim chance, but there was hope there.

***

Camille washed, taking a few minutes to comb the gnarls out of her hair. She had no idea why she was going to the trouble. The thought of eating anything made her stomach churn dangerously. 

She returned to her room, removing the old housecoat, searching through the closet for something that might actually fit her. Allinson was a bit larger than she was and most of the clothing – what little there was – would fall off her thinning frame. 

She finally settled on a blue sundress, using safety pins from a small box on top of the dresser to shorten the straps enough to stay up on her shoulders. Surveying the image that stared back in the mirror, she decided that this would have to do. 

As she stepped into the hallway, she thought it was time to peek in on Olan. She knocked, entering when he answered to find him sitting on a chair in front of the open balcony door. 

"You're looking much better," she murmured.

"And you look pretty as a picture. What's the occasion?"

Looking down at the worn cotton of the dress, she smoothed an imaginary wrinkle before glancing up again.

"Just didn't feel like wearing my old clothes anymore. Guess I'll have to see if Allinson's washer works and do some laundry for us."

"Nah. Make Niko do it," Olan chuckled. 

"I should," she murmured. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah. He brought me up a plate of chicken about an hour ago. I hate to admit it, but the man knows how to fricassee. I hope you plan to eat something."

"I'm on my way down right now. He practically begged me to eat supper with him."

"Oh, he did, did he?" Olan said, his eyes twinkling merrily. "You'll get him housebroke, yet."

"Doubt it," she said, crossing the room to straighten the bed covers. 

"You really got it bad."

"Excuse me?"

Camille straightened, turning to look at Olan's knowing expression.

"Don't play dumb with me, missy. You're in love with the big Greek, and you know it."

She sighed, dropping down to sit on the edge of the bed. With a flip of her hand, she tossed her hair back from her face, looking everywhere but at the man who seemed to be able to read her mind.

"I used to be," she said. 

"You still are and it's time you did something about it. Don't get me wrong. He deserves all the punishment you dish out, but in the end, the two of you belong together."

"No," she hissed as her head shot up. "He made his choice a long time ago."

"Camille," Olan sighed. "He wasn't given much choice. Neither of us was. I was there and saw what he went through. It was like he was possessed, charging in, wreaking havoc on everything, all to get back home. Now that I see you, I can understand why.

"Honey, every time he thought he was done, they dumped something else on him. He was always good at what he did, the best there was. I think they just wanted to hang onto him. He fought them, too. Our guys, their guys, anyone that stood in his way was fair game. 

"When word came down that you were in danger, he went berserk. He damn near beat Hansen to death when the man tried to stop him. The goons were shooting at him when he left the ranch, but he made it clean away. I knew exactly where to find him, knew he'd stop at nothing to get to you."

"He should've stayed away, Olan," she whispered. "He nearly killed me once. Now he's back to finish the job."

"Niko doesn't see it that way, Hon. Camille, he's lost without you. He wants peace. He believes he can find it in you."

"Peace? I hate to tell you this, Olan, but this running and being chased by men with guns is about the farthest thing from peace there is."

"I know, but it's the best he can do for now. One thing's for sure, he'll kill and die to protect you. He's a dumbass sometimes, but he'll get you someplace safe."

"If he doesn't get us all killed first."

"There's always that chance, I suppose," Olan said, turning his face back to the sunset. "But I've never seen a man who loved a woman as much as that one downstairs loves you. Just give the guy a little break, will ya?"

Excusing herself, Camille made her way barefoot down the stairs to the kitchen, thinking about what Niko's partner had said. Maybe she was being too hard on her husband. 

Pushing the kitchen door open slowly, she found Niko standing expectantly near the table. He reminded her once again of the boy that he once was, waiting for approval for his efforts.

The table was draped in an old green cloth awash in the soft glow of candles. The plates and flatware had been carefully laid with napkins folded along side each. A pair of mismatched wine glasses were filled with golden wine and a platter of chicken was nestled between the candlesticks. 

Camille couldn't help but be touched by the effort Niko had made. She offered a soft smile as she crossed the room. His eyes swept over the baggy dress, making her blush at the heat she saw there. He'd always had a way of looking at her that made her feel naked.

"You're gorgeous," he said as he gallantly held her chair for her.

"Thank you," she murmured, sitting slowly. "You did all this for me?"

"Of course."

"I... I don't know what to say...," she stammered, feeling a little embarrassed. "You went to a lot of trouble."

"You're worth it," he said, touching her arm before taking his own seat. "Tonight, let's just sit, eat and try to forget that we're mortal enemies, huh?"

His barb hit home, causing a stab in the region of her heart. Pushing back from the table, she started to rise, to run away to her room upstairs. He was on his feet, striding the two steps it took to get to her side. Crouching beside her chair, he took her hands in his, his eyes pleading.

"I'm sorry, Camille. I didn't mean that the way it came out."

"I've been making your life hell, haven't I?"

"No worse than what I did to you, Agapi. I wished for so much, and it's all gone now. Please, Camille. Eat. I'll leave the room, if you want me to, but you have to eat."

"Sit," she said softly. "Olan says you make a mean fricassee."

"It's not bad," he smiled gratefully, "if I do say so myself. I want you to stuff yourself. You've hardly eaten anything since we got here. You'll make yourself sick."

She was touched by his concern, watching as he filled her plate with more food than she could possibly eat in a week. As he set the food in front of her, the fragrance caused her stomach to rumble. Her mouth started to water. She was actually feeling hungry.

"It smells wonderful. What's in it?"

"I can't tell you. It's a secret."

Rolling her eyes, Camille took the first bite, letting the savory sauce work its magic over her tongue. She sighed, swallowing and spearing another morsel with her fork.

"This is really good, Niko. I don't remember you being this good a chef."

"Well, a man on his own has to learn to make do. I'm glad you like it."

She smiled around the next bite, washing it down with the wine.

"Riesling?" she said, relishing the aftertaste that was reminiscent of tart apples. "Interesting choice."

"Missouri is full of vineyards. Maybe one day we could tour a few of them..."

He stopped speaking, letting the words hang in the air between them as he turned his attention to his own plate. She caught the sadness in his eyes, just before he looked away, knew what he was thinking.

"Niko, please," she said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. 

He pulled his hand back, sitting a little straighter as he looked at her.

"Don't worry, Camille. I told you I'd let you go and I meant it. I don't know why I said that about the vineyards. Just wishful thinking, I guess."

His face hardened, the pleasing smile gone from his handsome features. It was easy to see that his anger was only a mask to hide his disappointment. She sat back in her chair, gazing at him, wondering how to fix this.

"I'm not worried about that. I just hate to see you torture yourself."

"Don't worry about me," he nearly growled. "I'll get along just fine without you."

His words were designed to hurt, but she refused to take the bait.

"When you showed up that night, I thought I was looking at a ghost," she said softly. "I thought I was losing my mind. Then I realized it was you, really you, alive, and... I was so happy to see you. It felt like my heart was going to explode. I could touch you, smell you, feel you and you were really alive. 

"Then I was mad. You have no idea the thoughts that went through my mind at that moment. After everything I'd been through, believing you dead and all... I wanted to tear you apart with my bare hands. I couldn't believe you would do that to me, let me think you were dead for so long. 

"I didn't take into account anything about what might have taken you away or why you stayed away so long. All I could think about was how you let me go on without you all those years."

"I know all this, Camille. Is there any reason we have to keep going over it?"

She ignored his outburst, rising from her chair to take the one that was closer to him.

"I've been sitting up there in that room for the past several days trying to figure out what it was that I was so angry at. On the one hand, I have every right to want to tear your windpipe out..."

"Yeah. You've pointed that out enough."

"On the other hand," she continued, "I realize just why it is that you did what you did. Sugar, you have to understand. I know you did what you thought you had to, but you didn't think about me, about what I would've wanted. 

"You never took my feelings into consideration. You got caught up in some macho need to protect me from whatever dangers you thought were out there, but you never thought about what I was going through without you. 

"My God, Niko. I fought the entire world on my own. No one would help me. Every time I tried to find out something about what happened to you, another wall was thrown up in my face. My dad tried to help and it killed him. I was alone, broken."

"I was wrong," he stated flatly. "Is that what you wanted me to say? Well, I admit it. I was wrong."

"You're missing the point. You never gave me a choice. I know you said you didn't have a choice either, but you could've taken me with you. I'd've followed you anywhere. If I had to live on the run with you or move to some foreign country, it wouldn't have mattered, as long as we were together. You were my whole world and you took it from me without once thinking how it would effect me."

He took her hand, running his thumb over the scar on her wrist. 

"You're wrong, Agapi Mou. I worried about you every day, worried about what you were going through. I swear by the Virgin that I thought it would only be a few weeks. But the weeks stretch to months and years. Getting back to you was the only thing that kept me going. 

"You're right about one thing, though. I should never have let those bastards keep us apart. If I'd known it would take me this long to find my way back..."

His voice trailed off, his gaze moving to where his thumb stroked the puckered skin on her wrist. The heat of his body, so near hers, coupled with the scent of his skin. It was a heady combination. Every nerve in her body seemed to concentrate on the place where his fingers touched her.

"Niko, we can't go back to what we once had."

"Do you love him, Camille?"

His question caught her off guard. She looked up to find him searching her face, looking for something. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm her body, but couldn't quite manage to pull away from him.

"Niko..."

"I'd like to know. I want you to be happy. Do you love him?"

"He's a good man. When I'm with him, I'm safe. He takes good care of me and loves me."

"You didn't answer the question. Do you love him?"

She opened her eyes, lost in the black opal of his gaze. The blood in her veins throbbed with the heat he was stirring with his simple caress. She seemed to be leaning closer to him, unable to stop the need to touch him.

"Hmm? Love...? I just told you..."

"No. You told me how he feels about you. You didn't say how you feel about him."

Sighing, she tore her gaze from his lips, trying to focus on the words that had been spoken by them. 

"I... I don't want to hurt you, Niko. Can't we just change the subject?"

"I need to know, Agapi," he whispered, his thumb strumming higher up along her wrist. "It's important to me. I want you to be happy, baby."

She closed her eyes again, her shoulders slumping in defeat. 

"I'm sorry, Niko. Please believe me. None of this was meant to hurt you. I never stopped loving you, but it's over."

"Who are you trying to convince? Me? Or you?"

Her eyelids flew up. He was leaning closer, his face only inches from hers. His warm breath fanned the fine hairs of her skin with each breath he exhaled. 

"I don't know any more," she admitted, reaching up to touch his face. "I missed you so... I used to dream of a moment like this."

He was suddenly on his feet, pulling her up with him and into his arms. His mouth found hers in a long, searching kiss that threatened to buckle her knees. When he came up for air, he stroked the hair from her face with the palm of his hand. The way he looked at her, it was as if he expected her to refuse him. He seemed to be waiting for the final blow.

Winding her arms about his neck, she pulled his head down again, kissed him in answer. Camille only knew the need that went beyond carnal desire. It was a need to fill the emptiness that had been in her soul since the day he'd disappeared all those years ago. 

She felt her body being lifted, heard the sound of his shoe kicking the door to the front room open as he carried her from the kitchen. The cushions of the couch pressed into her back as he laid her down and joined her. One of his big hands stroked slowly down her body, past the curve of her hip. His fingers gripped her thigh, pulling her leg up to wrap around him. 

"Thee mou. Eisai toso omorfi gynaika."

"Honey," she giggled. "You know I don't speak Greek."

"My God, Camille," he murmured, gazing at her face. "You're so beautiful. Aphrodite would die of envy."

"Shut up and make love to me, you stupid Greek," she moaned, pressing her body into his. 

"I've never been one to deny the whims of a goddess," he growled.

His hand slipped under the dress, slowly caressing his way up her leg, over her hip to her waist. His mouth assailed her from the top, working its way down over her throat to the area where the strap of her dress lay. As he tried to work the strap down with his teeth, he lost his balance, toppling off the edge of the narrow sofa to land on the floor, smacking his arm on the coffee table.

Camille fell with him, landing astride his waist. With a mighty shove, Niko sent the coffee table skittering across the floor with a loud crash. She laughed aloud, reaching down to snag the hem of her dress and drag it over her head.

Upstairs, a dozing Olan was awakened by the sound of upset furniture and the bawdy laughter of the two lovers. He smiled, closing his eyes again. It looked as if things were starting to get interesting.

Hundreds of miles away, another man smiled, but not out of amusement. He was holding a telephone to his ear, listening to what he'd been waiting to hear. Finally, he spoke slowly, his words precise and clipped.

"Comb that forest until you find them. I want the Greek brought to me alive. I wish to deal with him myself."

He carefully replaced the receiver in the cradle, his cold smile becoming decidedly more malicious. The man had led him a merry chase and it was time for him to pay the piper. There would be no more mistakes.

He sat back as his butler entered, bringing his tea. It was the only thing the British had given the world that was worth anything, the ceremony of afternoon tea. But none of that would matter, once he had the threat to his future neutralized; not the Brits, the Americans or any other country would dare defy him. The world would be his for the taking. 



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 08



Olan heard another round of raucous laughter drifting up from the main floor. He chuckled softly, turning on his side with an achy grunt. Burying his head in the pillows, he tried not to listen to the sounds of his partner getting laid. He felt like a lecher for enjoying the noises they made. He was even a little envious of his two friends downstairs.

"Shh," Camille said, hissing like a punctured tire, "Olan will hear us."

"I'm sure he's heard it before," Niko growled, pulling her down to nuzzle at her neck.

She moaned softly, allowing herself to enjoy his touch. His hands were on her back bringing to life every nerve ending. She felt her bra come loose as she burrowed her hands under his shirt. 

"I want to feel your skin," she whispered pulling at his clothing.

"Get up a minute," he said, lifting her shoulders. 

Sliding off him, she sidled onto the rug-covered floor, tossing her bra aside. She wiggled out of her panties while he pulled his clothing off. Finally completely naked, they pressed together in the gathering darkness. 

His lips found hers, his tongue entering her mouth to explore the heated recesses. She moaned softly, arching closer, letting her hands roam his big body. 

Niko turned her onto her back, laying her against the floor for his eyes to devour. She blushed under his scrutiny, feeling at once awkward and exhilarated. His fingers danced over the surface of her skin, circling around, but not quite touching her nipples. 

Camille shivered, whimpering softly as he teased her senses. One muscular leg came up to lie atop her thigh, holding her open to his gaze. 

"This is how I remember you, Camille," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "This way you have of giving yourself up completely to our love. I used to wake up at night, thinking I could just reach for you and you'd be there."

"I used to do the same thing, love. You were never there, though."

"I'm here now, baby. Say the word and nothing will keep us apart again."

She frowned, confused about what she really wanted. It was so hard to think with him touching her like that. When the pad of his thumb lightly skimmed the tip of her nipple, all thought was lost. She only knew the burning desire to have him possess her, the way she had dreamt of for all those long, lonely years.

Her back arched, her voice escaping in a soft moan. Bending his head low, he lazily pulled first one nipple, then the other into his mouth, suckling each in turn. She tangled her fingers in his hair, trying to pull him closer. 

He lifted his head, his dark opalescent eyes sparkling as he grinned at her. Pulling himself up, he settled between her thighs on his knees. His arms quivered as he supported himself above her. 

Niko kissed her again, leaving her lips only to forge a path down her throat and nibble at the delicate skin that covered her collarbone. Her legs came up to wrap about his waist, trying to pull him in, but he resisted, moving his mouth lower along her torso. 

When she moaned in disappointment, he raised his head again.

"No, agapi. Tonight we make love. I want this to be slow, to pleasure you."

"Pleasure me? You're driving me insane."

His answer was a mocking chuckle as his mouth returned to its onslaught, moving lower still. He let his tongue dip into her navel, telling her he remembered how much that simple act could make her tremble.

She didn't disappoint, gasping as she ripped at his hair with her slender fingers. Her legs released him, bracing against the floor so that her hips could thrust upward.

Niko sat up, reaching up for one of the couch cushions. Lifting her bottom, he slid the pillow beneath, grinning playfully when she met his eyes. 

"The best part," he said.

His fingers strummed through the golden curls between her thighs, sliding over the slick, wet flesh. Her body was moving uncontrollably, pushing against his hand, trying to draw him in. But he only played, teasing her relentlessly until she thought she would go mad.

He watched her face, knew every emotion she was feeling. She let him see it all with each stroke against her skin. When his fingers finally found their way between the folds of her flesh, she cried out, bucking her hips wildly.

Then he lowered his head, closing his mouth over the bundle of nerves at her center. Her body shook as the caress of his tongue sent her over the rippling edge. He didn't stop, even when she thought she would blackout from the blinding orgasm, but slowed, stroking lightly with his tongue. 

"Niko, please...," she panted, her body rigid with sensation.

"Please what, my love?"

"I need you inside me. I need to feel you."

Pulling the pillow from under her backside, he crawled up her body, hovering above her as she reached out to touch him. She pulled his face down, kissing him, tasting herself on his lips. 

His arms wound around her, pulling her squirming body against his, holding her there as the kiss expanded. 

His lips left hers when he lifted his head, saying, "I love you, agapi mou," and entered her slowly.

The words that came from her mouth were unintelligible, more guttural sounds than actual phrases. She sobbed his name, pressing her head into the rug as she lifted her hips to meet him.

He soon lost control, moving beyond the teasing pleasure he offered her body to that place where driving need took over. His head rolled back as he rose up on his extended arms, thrusting into her with powerful strokes. 

She could feel the sweat on his skin as her fingers slid over him, trying desperately to hold on. This was her Niko, the only man who could ever love her this way. 

Her legs tangled with his, her pelvis rising, lunging at him, taking him deeper with each thrust. She heard his feral growl, even over the sounds of her own impassioned cries. He bucked hard, driving into her, taking her to the brink again and beyond.

He exploded inside her as her inner muscles milked him dry. She felt as if a river of fire had been unleashed, filling her body with his seed. He fell on top of her, panting, sweat dripping from his brow.

***

This was different than their other two brief couplings since he'd returned to his Camille.  It wasn't born of rage and frustration, or a vessel to slake pure carnal lust. This was making love. 

She had given completely of herself; she was his wife again. It was better than his memories, a reality he thought impossible. She had opened herself entirely to him, giving him the love he knew she still carried for him.

His heart had yet to cease its frantic pounding after the loving they had just shared. Her heart fluttered against his chest as he continued to hold her, stroking the satiny flesh of her back. 

There were no words between them, just their intermingled, labored breathing as they floated back to earth together. When he caressed the top of her head with his lips, she took a deep breath, letting it go with a heavy, contented sigh. Nothing else mattered at this moment than the feel of her body against his.

He never wanted to let her go, holding her even after their heart rates and breathing returned to normal. Only one thing disturbed the moment, giving him reason to rise from the hard floor. It was the sound of her stomach, rumbling with hunger after dinner was interrupted. 

"Let me up, agapi," he murmured, trying to stifle his amusement.

"No," she fairly snarled, snuggling closer.

"I'll only be gone a moment. I promise."

Reluctantly pulling himself out of her soft arms, he slipped a throw pillow under her head and covered her with the afghan that was draped over the back of the couch. She curled up under the old throw, giving him a sleepy smile for which he would have gladly cut off his right arm.

Striding to the kitchen, he walked through the door to find the candles nearly burned down to the holders, illuminating the room in eerie, flickering light. He found the light switch, working quickly to reheat Camille's dinner in the microwave and dig another candle out from the drawer where he'd found the others. 

Blowing out the two spent candles, he scorched his hand on hot wax when he removed the stub of one from its holder to put in the fresh one. Muttering a string of his father's best Greek oaths, he set the candlestick aside, giving his hand a shake to cool it down when the microwave beeped. 

He pulled out the tray that he'd been using to carry food to Olan, setting the plate of steaming food on it with flatware, the candle, the bottle of wine and two glasses. He heard Camille giggle when he took it in to her, saw her cover her face with her hands.  

"What's so funny?" he asked, trying to look stern.

She peeked from behind her hands, snickering softly at the sight before her.

"A lot of women dream of having a gorgeous, naked man serving them in bed. I just never thought it would happen to me on a cabin floor in the middle of the Ozark Mountains."

Niko grinned, kneeling to set the tray on the floor between them. 

"I'll happily serve you in the nude every day, if you promise to be just as naked and as luscious as you are right now."

He was rewarded by the blush that crept under her golden skin. Her smile was dazzling, her eyes sparkling violet in the light of the single candle. 

"I'm famished," she murmured, sitting up to let the afghan fall about her waist.

She wasted little time in snagging the fork and spearing a good-sized bite of chicken, following with a forkful of green beans and washing it all down with a gulp of wine.

"You're not eating?" she asked between bites.

"I will if you decide to share," he chuckled. "It's good to see you eating again."

"Amazing what being in love can do for the appetite."

"I knew it!" he hissed. "Say it."

Camille swallowed hard, her startled eyes meeting his. She looked unsure, a small frown furrowing between her brows.

"I never said I didn't love you, Niko. I only told you it was over between us."

"Is it?"

She frowned again, setting her fork down. For a moment, he was afraid she would get up and leave, but she remained where she was, staring at him. Then her eyes began to cloud, looking as if she might be holding tears in check.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head slowly. "I love you, Niko. I always will."

"But...?"

"But, nothing. You have my heart. See that you don't break it again."

He crawled around the tray on the floor, moving behind her to wrap his arms around her body. He found her trembling, heard her soft moan when she leaned back against him.

"You have my word on that, agapi mou," he said into her hair. "I'll get us out of this mess and spend the rest of my life making you happy."

"We'll get us out of this mess," she informed him. "We're in this together, Niko. Don't forget that."

"Camille..."

"I mean it, Nikodemos. Don't treat me like a child. I'm your wife and partner in every way or we call it quits right now."

"This is a dangerous game, baby."

"It can't be any worse than the hell I lived for the past eight years. Don't even think about trying to put me in some shelter somewhere while you go off to save the world. I won't have it. We're either together all the way, or not at all."

"So it's all or nothing, huh?"

"Yep. That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

The soft skin of her back was pressed against his chest, her hair falling over his arm as she leaned back to look at him. Her petal-soft hand was caressing his thigh just above his knee. With a distraction like that, how could he deny her? 

"I don't like it, honey."

"Too bad. You think I would like it if you locked me away somewhere and ran off to play spy games? I'd go crazy, not knowing if you were alive or dead. I did that once and I won't do it again."

He reached down, lifted her hand to look at the scar on her wrist. 

"Point taken, Camille. We'll work something out. Together."

"I'm glad we got that settled," she said softly, sitting up a little straighter. "Now there's just one more detail to deal with."

"What's that?"

She didn't answer him right away. Picking up the fork again, she poked absently at the food.

"Doug."

"What about him?"

Niko could feel the cold fist tightening in his chest, just as it did whenever she mentioned the man. This Doug guy had put his hands on Camille, was planning to marry her. Even if neither realized she was still a married woman, it didn't matter. He wanted to beat the life out of the man.

"I have to tell him, Niko."

"To hell with him."

"No. He doesn't deserve this. The least I can do is tell him myself," Camille said quietly.

"Just how do you plan to do that?"

"Well, I could go into Cabool tomorrow and give him a call."

"That would be pretty foolish, Camille."

"I'll keep a low profile. Don't worry."

Niko wanted to shake her. He decided to try diplomacy instead.

"Baby," he said, pulling her back against him again. "Don't you think it can wait? We'll be leaving here soon. When we get to the ranch you can give him a call. It'll only be a few days."

"He needs to know that I'm alive, Niko. I had to go through it myself, that not knowing. I don't want him to suffer the way I did."

"Honey, be reasonable. It's too dangerous," he said, concern filling his voice.

She was silent for a moment, making him more than a little suspicious.

"Let's talk about it tomorrow," she said, laying her head against his chest. "Right now I'm hungry."

"Me too," he chuckled, leaning down to nibble at her shoulder.

She feigned ignorance, leaning forward to stab a piece of chicken with her fork.

"Here you go, honey. There's more than enough for both of us."

He opened his mouth to make a sarcastic remark, only to have her turn and shove the food in. She laughed at him as he sputtered, caught off guard by her sneaky trick. Before he could recover, she leaned forward again to get his glass of wine.

"Here," she laughed, "drink this."

He did his best to wash the food from his windpipe, grinning at her playfulness. Together they finished her dinner, enjoying each other's company more than the meal. 

Niko fed her the last bite, getting a little of the sauce on his fingers when he laid the fork on the empty plate. Camille's eyes danced mischievously when she wrapped her succulent lips around his thumb, sucking it clean. 

He wondered if she knew to what extent her teasing affected him. Her gaze never left his when she picked up her glass to gulp down the last of the wine. One shimmering drop remained on her lower lip, a temptation he couldn't resist. When he pulled her back to lick it off, her arms snaked about his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

With a fierce growl, he reached out, bringing his hand down to snuff out the candle. In the next instant, he was on his feet, tossing her over his shoulder and bounding up the stairs to his room.

***

It was the plaintive call of some night bird that woke Camille. She didn't move for a moment, trying to get her bearings when she heard the bird again. Glancing at the open balcony door, she smiled to herself, remembering how Niko had taken her from behind over the railing just a few hours before. 

Her body, more than a little stiff, was sore in all the right places. Each tentative movement of her limbs was another reminder of how passionately she and her husband had made love through the night.

As she uncurled her body and stretched, an urgency in the region of her bladder forced her to try to get up. Niko's heavy arm came down over her, pinning her to the mattress, pulling her up close.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I have to go to the bathroom," she whispered, pushing gently at his arm. "Go back to sleep. You worked hard last night."

He grinned, releasing her. His eyes drifted closed again, his breath falling into the steady rhythm of sleep. She stood, turning back to bend down and kiss his forehead.

A few minutes later, after taking care of her body's needs, she stood at the sink washing her face and hands. As she dried off, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Thoughts of Doug came unbidden.

She could barely look at herself. No matter what had happened to her since the night that Niko came back, she still owed Doug an explanation. There was no telling what was going through his mind by this time. He must be frantic. Had he given her up for dead?  

They'd had so many plans: children, a home, a life together. There was no way she could ever return to him now, but he deserved to at least know that she was still alive, and to hear from her own mouth that she wouldn't be coming back to him.

There was no way that Niko was going to allow her to contact him. He'd made his feelings quite clear on that subject. Her husband simply could not understand the hell Doug must be going through, or how horrifying it was to live in that world of not knowing, that place where there's no closure.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't put Doug through it for one more day. It wasn't yet dawn. If she hurried, she could hike the three or four miles to town, make the call and get back again before she was missed.

Her decision made, she stepped into the shower and turned on the water. She washed quickly, barely taking the time to get all the shampoo out of her hair. Padding swiftly to her bedroom, she looked for something to wear. Her old jeans were far too dirty and the rest of Allinson's clothes were too large. She would have to wear the old blue sundress that she'd left downstairs the night before.

Wrapped in her towel, and carrying her shoes, she crept down the staircase to the living room. The place was a mess with a toppled coffee table, dirty dishes and knick knacks scattered about. She made a mental note to give the cabin a thorough cleaning when she got back. She hated the thought of leaving a mess for her friend to find.

Camille dressed as fast as she could, wrinkling her nose at being forced to wear dirty undies. She'd been washing them out at night to wear again in the morning since coming to this place. There wasn't much choice but to put them on. Going commando under a dress went against everything her mother had drilled into her head.

Just as she was about to leave she realized that she needed money. She found Niko's jeans, fishing through the pockets until she located a twenty. 

Slipping out into the gray pre-dawn light, Camille hurried down the long drive, stepping into the woods just short of the highway.

***

Niko slapped himself awake when he absently swatted at an invading mosquito. He smiled, despite the blood-sucker's attempt to spoil his good mood. 

"Hey, baby," he said, rolling over, "good morn..."

He frowned at the empty pillow on her side of the bed. For the briefest of moments he feared that the whole night had been a dream. He splayed his fingers, dragging them over the indentation on the pillow where her head had been. 

"Camille?" he called, squinting his eyes against the glare of the early morning sunshine. 

His mind was unclear, still befuddled by the rare deep sleep that took him after their night of passion. He had a distinct memory though, of a pair of soft lips touching his forehead in the dark. Grinning again, he tossed the sheet aside to go in search of his wife.

Niko was still naked when he stepped into the hall, making his way quietly to the bathroom. There he thought he would find her, but the door was open and the room was empty. He tried her room next, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

"Camille!" he yelled, alarm causing a knot to form in his gut.

Jogging down the stairs, he discovered the living room in the same disarray as the night before. Knowing his wife, she would have had it cleaned up by now. The mess only served to heighten his growing panic. 

He snatched his jeans from where they lay over the back of the couch, forcing his legs into them. His shirt was still on the floor, his shoes tossed off to the side of the over-turned table. Something was definitely wrong.




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 08



He ran to the kitchen and then the dining room, but she was gone. There was only one other place she could be, although he knew without looking she wasn't there. Jamming his feet into his shoes, he snatched his shirt from the floor and took the stairs two at a time.

Niko was beyond caring by the time he reached Olan's door, tossing it open to bang loudly on the wall behind. His partner woke with a start, coming upright on the bed.

"Where is she?" Niko demanded.

"Wha...?"

"Camille. Have you seen her?"

Olan rubbed his wounded shoulder, looking as if Niko had been speaking Greek. 

"She's gone, Olan."

"Did you look downstairs?"

"Yes, God damn it," Niko hissed. "I looked everywhere."

"Did you say someth..."

"No!" Niko yelled, cutting his friend off. "We were together all night. She told me... Just forget it. What if they got to her? I have to find her."

"Just hold your horses, dammit. I'm going with you."

"You'll tear that bullet hole open. Stay where you are."

"Nothin' doin'," Olan stated flatly. "You might not get a chance to come back for me. I'm going with."

"Katarameni gynaika."

"What's that?" Olan said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

Niko reached a shaking hand to help his friend to his feet. There was an all-consuming fire burning in his brain as his imagination conjured all manner of evil being done to the woman he loved.

"I said, damned woman," Niko growled, handing Olan his trousers. "What was she thinking, running off like that?"

"How do you know she ran off?" Olan countered, grunting against the pain in his chest as he pulled his clothing on. "How do you know someone didn't take her?"

"You're not helping," Niko said, casting a baleful glance at him. "If they came in and took her, they would have killed you and me. That's how I know."

"Fair enough, pal. Hand me that shirt."

Niko tossed the shirt at Olan, leaving him to fend for himself while he went to Camille's room to have another look around. He found the gun he'd given her laying right where she left it. Snatching up the weapon, he returned to Olan's room to help the man down the stairs. 

Once he got his wounded friend into the car, Niko ran back inside. When he came back out, he was carrying the few items of equipment that he'd taken inside when they had first arrived. For a moment he toyed with the idea of setting fire to the cabin to erase their presence, but he decided against it. It would take too much precious time and there was no telling what kind of trouble Camille was in.

"Any ideas where she might be?" Olan asked as Niko slid behind the wheel.

"Yeah. She went to call that boyfriend of hers. I know exactly what was going through that blond head of hers. I told her no, so she went to find a phone just to spite me."

Olan started to laugh, moaning a little and clutching the wound high up on his chest.

"What's so funny?" Niko demanded.

"Back in that barn where you two found me, she called you an arrogant bastard. You know, I think she hit the nail right on the head with that one."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You think the world revolves around you. Did you ever stop to think that she didn't bother to take your feelings into account? Maybe she did it because she thinks she needs to."

"Shut the hell up and let me drive," Niko snarled, burning rubber as he pulled the car onto the highway.

***

Camille's leg muscles were burning by the time she crossed over the railroad tracks at the edge of the trees. She had maintained a fast pace all the way to town, keeping the road in sight, but staying within the cloak of the woods. A small, niggling doubt began to plague her as she entered the little town of Cabool in the early light of the rising sun.

She dodged between houses and buildings, hoping that not many people would be up this early and that no one would notice her as she looked for someplace to stop and make the phone call. There were a few vehicles moving about and noises coming from open windows, but for the most part it seemed as if people were minding their own business.

After passing by a couple of streets that didn't look too promising, she stepped onto Ozark Avenue. Glancing to her right, she saw a sign that read, "Ginger's Kountry Kitchen." That seemed to be a likely place.

She approached cautiously, keeping her head down whenever she passed someone as she walked. When she finally reached the front door of the little diner, she was happy to see that it wasn't particularly crowded.

"Hi, there," a friendly voice greeted as she entered.

Camille looked up to see a tidy-looking waitress carrying a pot of fragrant coffee. She gave the woman what she hoped was a pleasant smile.

"Hi. That coffee smells good."

"You just get yourself a seat and I'll come pour you a cup."

"Sounds great. Do you have a pay phone?" Camille said. 

"Right over there, Hon," the woman said, pointing to the back of the room.

Camille thanked the woman as she walked to the cashier.

"What can I do for you?" the man behind the cash register asked.

"Hi. Just got into town and my phone won't work. Can I get change for your payphone?" she asked, holding out her wadded money, trying to smooth it with her fingers.

"Local or long distance?"

"Um, long distance. About three dollars worth should do it."

She took her money, heading to the back of the restaurant, trying not to meet any of the curious stares of the patrons. The uneasiness that had begun when she entered town was growing steadily worse. She just couldn't shake the feeling of vulnerability now that she was out in plain sight.

It had been so long since Camille had used a pay phone that it took a few moments to figure it out. In her uneasiness, she misdialed the number and had to dial it a second time before it finally went through. A computer voice told her how many coins to insert and the call started ringing.

It wasn't until the fifth ring that a familiar voice answered. She actually jumped at the sound of it.

"What is it?" Doug said, his voice tinged with irritation.

"Doug? It's me."

"Camille? Where the hell are you? You just disappeared."

He sounded tense, nearly yelling over the noise in the background. The line was full of static and the sound of machinery. She tried to make out what was causing the racket. It sounded like the rush of wind and a motor as if he were driving somewhere, which made no sense because she'd dialed his home number.

"I can barely hear you, Doug. What's all that noise?" she asked, trying to keep her own voice down.

Ignoring the question, he asked again, "Where are you? What happened?"

"It's a long story and I can't talk now. I just wanted to let you know that I'm all right. Doug, I won't be coming back."

"What?"

"I said, I won't be coming back. I'm sorry, honey."

"Where are you?" he demanded, his voice growing angry. "I've been searching for you. I have to see you."

"No, Doug. I... I'm sorry."

"You're in Missouri, aren't you?"

She was silent a moment, shocked that he would know what state she was in. 

"How did you know that?" she asked finally, her voice shaking.

"I told you. I've been searching for you. I got scared when I got the call that your house had burned to the ground. They said you were gone."

"My house burned? Oh, my God. Doug, I have to go."

"Tell me where you are, baby. I just want to know that you're all right," he said, the tone of his voice cajoling and soft.

She didn't answer, didn't know what to say as her mind tried to focus on her home having been destroyed. How could she tell him she was with her "dead" husband? 

The computer voice returned, telling her to deposit more money for the next three minutes. Her movements were automatic when she complied as a cold feeling spread throughout her chest.

"You're in the Ozarks, aren't you?" he asked, surprising her again.

"Yes," she answered without thinking. 

"Which town? baby, I need to see you."

"You can't. You can't see me again. I have to go."

"You're with him. I already know, Camille. The police told me all about your husband. Did you know he's wanted for murder?" he insisted, his voice turning angry again. "He's dangerous. Tell me where you are."

"Cabool," she said, her mind reeling. 

How could Doug know about Niko? How could the police know? The icy feeling around her heart spread to her limbs until she felt as if her legs would no longer support her.

"Where?"

"A diner. I have to go. I'm out of money."

"Which diner? Where?" Doug prodded, determined to know the truth.

"A place called Ginger's Kountry Kitchen. Why?"

"Don't move," he commanded, his voice harsh. "I'll be right there."

"What do you mean? You're hundreds of miles away."

"I told you I've been looking for you. Just sit tight," he ordered again.

The phone went dead, leaving Camille staring at it in confusion and fear. He was coming for her, was actually close enough to "be right there." How could that be? She had dialed his home phone in Illinois.

Replacing the receiver on the hook, she walked slowly to an empty booth nearby, sinking onto the vinyl-covered seat. Something was there, something she couldn't put her finger on. 

He'd said that Niko was wanted for murder, called him dangerous. Niko had admitted to her that he'd killed, but murder? If the police knew about him...

"Coffee?"

Camille jumped, glancing up at the sound of a voice. She saw the waitress standing over her, pot in hand, an expectant smile on her face. Nodding at the woman, Camille sat back, looking anxiously about the room. People were watching her, staring at her as if she had grown a second head.

The woman poured the coffee, hovering over her even after the cup was full. She eyed Camille intently, studying her as if she were searching for some truth.

"Is something wrong?" Camille asked.

"Maxine," someone called. "More coffee."

"Hold your horses," the waitress yelled over her shoulder before turning back to Camille. "It ain't none of my business, honey, but would you be named Cammy Pavlo?"

Camille's eyes grew wide with horror. Even if this Maxine had gotten the name wrong, it was still close enough to warrant real fear. 

"Oh, dear," Maxine said. "You look terrified. Don't worry. I won't tell no one. There was a couple of guys come in here yesterday. Had a picture, said they was looking for you. I don't mind tellin' you I didn't much care for the looks of 'em. Looked like government types. You in some trouble?"

Camille looked the woman in the eye. Maxine's expression was caring, kind and more than a little conspiratorial. 

If people had come there looking for Camille, then they were looking for Niko too. And they were close. Doug was close as well. 

"Yes, ma'am. I'm in real trouble," Camille whispered, glancing at the door. "I have to get out of here. Some really bad people are coming to get me. Is there a back way?"

She didn't know why she would trust this stranger, but Maxine seemed so sincere. There was a wisdom in her eyes that reminded Camille of a picture of her grandmother, a woman her father had revered.

"You just come with me," the waitress said, setting the coffee pot down. "And don't you worry about a thing. Those boys come back and we'll send them packing soon enough. We'll send 'em on a wild goose chase clear to Texas."

Camille followed her through a crooked hallway that lead past the restrooms to the rear exit. Maxine opened the door, sticking her head through and looking around cautiously.

"The alley's empty," Maxine said. "You better get a move on."

"Thank you, Maxine," Camille whispered, touching the woman's arm. 

"Think nothing of it. I just hate to see a nice girl like you get in trouble."

Camille slipped into the bright sunshine, walking as fast as she could without running. She had to get back across Ozark Avenue in order to find her way back to the cabin. Ducking between two buildings just before the end of the block, she peered out at that street. 

Just as she stepped from the relative shelter of the buildings, a hand closed around her upper arm, wheeling her around. She came face to face with Doug Johnson. Her heart skipped a beat, causing a sharp pain in her chest.

"Going somewhere, Camille?" he asked.

She didn't answer, merely stared dumbfounded. He was glaring at her, daring her to speak. Without being aware of it, she tried to pull her arm free.

"I think we should talk," he said, tightening his grip as he pulled her out onto the sidewalk.

"Please, Doug. Let me go. I have to..."

"Have to what?" he asked, interrupting her without faltering a step. "Let's get you somewhere safe."

"I can't!" she fairly yelled, planting her feet. "I have to go."

"Go where?" Doug demanded. "Back to him? Don't bother looking dumb. I know all about it."

"How? How do you know?" she asked, taking a step back.

Doug's expression changed so suddenly, Camille had to blink. One moment he was angry and the next he was cajoling and appeasing. She'd never before known him to have such mercurial emotions. He did not even appear to be happy to see her. For a man in love, he was certainly acting strangely. If he'd been so worried about her, why had he not even hugged her yet?

"I lied to you, Camille," he said, adopting the demeanor of a contrite child. "I'm not who I said I was. I work for the CIA. Niko Pavli is a wanted man. Just come with me and I'll tell you everything."

In her shock, she let him take her arm again, leading her away toward the same end of town she'd come in at. As he walked beside her, he began to talk. The words that he spoke so smoothly were unbelievable and shocking.

"I was assigned to protect you. Pavli was one of us. He got in some trouble a few years back and had to disappear. That's when we arranged his fake death."

"That's a lie," she hissed pulling up short again.

Doug looked at her, giving her his most sympathetic air. He patted her shoulder softly, clucking his tongue.

"What did he tell you?" Doug asked. "Did he tell you that he's been serving his nation after someone ambushed him? He's been telling that story so long that he's starting to believe it."

"I saw the scars. I know he told me the truth."

"No, my poor Camille. So gullible. Pavli was shot a few months ago. It happens sometimes, in the line of duty. He wasn't the same after that day. I guess you could say he lost his mind."

It was too much for Camille to absorb. Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of Doug's words. Seizing the opportunity that her confusion afforded, he grabbed her arm again, hustling her across the intersection.

"Anyway," Doug continued, "Pavli became obsessed with the notion that you were in some danger. The shrinks said that he was fixated on having a home and family, complete with the white picket fence. They said it's a symptom of burnout and the trauma of being shot. He broke out and killed three men in the process."

"Niko...," she choked, her free hand brushing the hair from her face. 

"He's a dangerous man, Camille. There's no telling what he might do if he thought you knew the truth. He's likely to kill you. It's my job to protect you and that's what I plan to do."

She walked beside him, stumbling from time to time as she tried to keep up with his ground eating pace. When Niko had first come back, she'd thought he was crazy, carrying her off in the middle of the night. Could it be true? Was he really insane?

Then she thought about all that had happened in the days since being on the run. Niko had wooed her, fought with her, had even promised to let her go, but through all of it, he was still her old Niko. 

The way he looked at her with so much love in his dark eyes; that was not the expression of a crazy man. The gentleness in his touch when he held her and the care he'd shown were not the actions of a man who was out of his head.

Doug was dragging her along, the edge of town almost upon them. Panic hit her like a freight train. She couldn't go with this man.

"Dammit!" she hissed, jerking her arm free when she halted her step. "I'm so fucking stupid. None of what you say makes sense. All this time, you were there, keeping an eye on me, staking me out like bait."

She pointed an accusing finger at him, gripped by a powerful urge to dig her nails into his face. He glared at her so smugly that she thought she might just do it.

"You're one of them," she charged. 

"Be reasonable, babe. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"You're one of them. Good ol' steady Doug, coming to the rescue of the broken widow. And I obliged you, eating your bullshit like it was candy."

Doug's face turned cold as ice. The smile that curved his lips failed to reach his eyes. The man that stood before her was a stranger, someone she'd never seen before.

"Honey," he said, "I think you've had too much excitement."

"Stay away from me," she hissed as he stepped forward. "I've known Niko all my life. I don't know you at all. You're a liar."

After hurling those words in his face, she darted back the way they'd come. Her long legs stretched, running harder than she ever had, knowing that she had just endangered the only man she'd ever loved.

She saw the faces of people ahead, began to scream just as Doug grabbed her hair from behind, yanking her off her feet. The pain brought tears to her eyes as she was hauled backward against Doug's hard frame.

He was laughing, his hold relentless, dragging her back to the railroad tracks that marked the city limits. There were two men in the distance who showed more than a passing curiosity over the situation. They seemed to be approaching, coming toward her as if to offer assistance.

Camille began fighting, reaching back to claw at Doug's face, shrieking for help. It only took a moment for him to get control of her, using his superior strength and size. Even when he had both her wrists pinned in his grip, she twisted, kicked and used her head to hit him. 

Finally, he wrapped his fingers around her throat, effectively silencing her when he shut off her air supply. The men weren't far away and moving faster now.

"Lover's spat," Doug called out to them.

They looked unsure, hesitating a moment before one shrugged his shoulders and walked away. The other soon followed, looking back once as darkness began to cloud Camille's mind.

Doug loosened his grip on her throat just enough to let her draw a breath. She gagged, wheezing and choking at the constriction in her windpipe. His grip tightened again when he released her hands.

"When I let you breathe again," he said, his voice cold as ice, "you will be silent. Is that clear?"

She nodded, desperate for life-preserving oxygen. He released his grip on her throat, wrapping his arm about her waist and pinning her against his chest while she gasped for breath. 

He pulled out a cell phone, pushed a button and said, "Set 'er down."

A helicopter seemed to appear out of nowhere, landing smoothly crossways on the tracks. The bizarre-looking craft was unlike anything she'd ever seen before and made no more noise than a large cooling fan. Camille began to struggle again, his intention now all too clear. 

"What's the matter, darling?" a woman called, stepping from the craft. "Can't you keep your little girlfriend in line?"

Doug seemed less than amused, snatching Camille's arm and twisting it behind her back. He shoved her forward, showing little mercy when she cried out in pain.

"Keep your mouth shut, Marissa," he yelled at the woman.

Marissa laughed reaching out a hand to clutch Camille's chin. As her eyes were forced up, she got her first good look at the woman. Her hair was a pale blond, her eyes a cold shade of blue. She was a few years younger and an inch or two taller than Camille, but she could have been her sister.




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 08



"So this is the little whore who's been taking you away from me," the woman said, hatred shining in her eyes. 

"That's my fiancé you're talking about," Doug chuckled, giving Camille another shove. "Get her on board."

Doug released Camille as Marissa's fingers grabbed a handful of her hair, snarling, "What the hell do we need her for?"

"Just do as you're told, Marissa. Don't press your luck with me," Doug snapped, glancing around at the terrain.

"Come on, slut," said Marissa, giving Camille's hair a vicious tug. 

If this Marissa thought Camille would go along quietly, the woman had a big surprise in store. Quick as a flash, she brought her head back, smashing Marissa's own hand into her face.

"Bitch," Marissa hissed, swinging Camille around to slap her hard across the face.

Bright lights exploded in Camille's vision, her mind reeling with shock from the stinging pain. As her eyesight cleared, she saw the blood pouring from Marissa's nose and knew a moment of supreme satisfaction. 

The moment didn't last long when Marissa grabbed her again, slamming her through the narrow entrance of the helicopter. Marissa climbed in after her, dragging the fighting Camille up onto a seat, cursing as Camille's fist slammed into her face.

"Get that bitch under control," Doug yelled, climbing aboard. "Here comes the cavalry."

He did his best to ignore the scuffling women as he donned a headset, ordering the pilot to take off. Camille turned her head in time to see a car speeding toward them, looking as if it would ram squarely into the helicopter. She recognized it as the one that Niko had been using and tried to fight her way free in the cramped quarters of the little compartment to get to him.

Doug raised a weapon the likes of which she'd only seen in the movies. It was wicked-looking, huge, and appeared that it would be able to inflict enormous damage. Horrified, Camille planted her feet in the woman's chest, kicking hard as the craft began to move. Marissa went flying backwards, hitting the back of the pilot's seat. 

Camille lunged forward, grabbing at the gun, forcing it up just as Doug pulled the trigger. He slammed his fist into her chest, knocking the wind from her. She heard the sounds of gunshots, knew that Niko was trying to bring the helicopter down. Determined to do all she could to help, she dove toward the pilot, screaming like a woman possessed.

Something hard slammed into the back of her skull. The world turned upside down, a cacophony of sound ringing in her ears as she fought off the blackness that surrounded her. She lay on the floor of the helicopter, staring up at the cold, angry faces of her captors.

"That was a foolish thing to do, Marissa. I needed her to talk," Doug yelled above the sound of the wind.

"We don't need her now. Pavli knows you have her. You should toss her off the copter. If he sees you kill her, nothing will stop him. He'll be out in the open and all you'll have to do is wait for him to show up. There isn't enough room in here for the extra person anyway."

The last thing Camille saw was the chilling smile that crossed Doug's face. The last thing she heard before the blackness engulfed her was his words: "Good idea."

***

"Is that a Comanche?" Olan said, pointing up through the windshield of the speeding car.

"Christ," Niko spat, turning toward the hovering aircraft. "Those sons-of-bitches must have more money than God."

"Do you think we're too late?"

Niko slammed the gas pedal to the floor as the helicopter began to descend, disappearing behind a hill. He topped a rise doing ninety, his wheels leaving the pavement when he flew over the top. The next hill was higher, concealing the helicopter from view. 

"I'll ring her neck when I get her back," Niko said.

"No, you won't," Olan returned, pulling out his handgun and checking it. "You'll beg her to forgive you for putting her in danger. You don't fool me."

Niko shot him a withering glance, careening over the top of the next rise. On the other side, a man was climbing into the RAH-66 Comanche Stealth Helicopter. There was a flash of blond hair as the people on board scuffled. He saw the weapon the man was holding, saw Camille reach out to grab the gun.

Niko stopped the car, slamming it into park at the same time he jumped out. His gun in hand, he blasted away at the tail rotor. He tried to keep the craft from taking off but failed. 

Olan pulled himself from the vehicle, aiming his weapon, but failing to get off a shot in time as the aircraft gained altitude. Both men watched in helpless shock when the compartment opened again. 

Niko held his breath as he watched his wife's blond hair flapping in the wind. In the next instant, she was plummeting toward earth, her scream the only sound that reached his horrified mind.



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 09



If a breaking heart had a distinct sound, Olan knew he was hearing it now. The cry coming from Niko's throat could only be described as a bellow of rage and horror, much as a wounded lion crying its death knell. 

Olan was at a loss in the face of a pain so raw. He could only stand and watch as Niko shattered right in front of him. Walking around the front of the vehicle, Olan went to his friend to lend whatever support or strength he could. He no more than put a hand on his shoulder when Niko took off at a dead run, heading for the forest and presumably the spot where Camille had landed.

Muttering a stream of oaths, Olan ran a hand through his shaggy red hair, turning to see several curious on-lookers approaching. Years of training and his need for self-preservation kicked in, galvanizing him to action. 

As quick as his injured body would allow, he slid behind the wheel of the car. He hoped that the narrow road he was on would take him through the woods and close to the spot where Camille had landed. 

He feared what Niko might do in his current state. A man with that kind of love and passion for a woman could very well lose his mind, go on a rampage or even kill himself. He only hoped he got there in time to stop Niko before he did anything crazy.

Given the trajectory of the fall and the distance of the helicopter, it was difficult to say where Camille's body had landed. Olan did his best to estimate the distance and tried to get the car as close as possible, but eventually was forced to abandon it. He'd long since lost sight of Niko in the crowding trees. 

Calling out, Olan made his way through the thick undergrowth, stumbling from time to time in his weakened state. Just when he was afraid that he'd never find his partner, he heard a voice call out to him. He had to wait for a second call before he figured out the right direction.

When he finally found him, Niko was sitting on a fallen tree, his head in his hands. Not far from his feet lay a shattered body, the blond hair the only distinguishable feature by which to identify her. The remains were so badly broken the only word that came to Olan's mind was "pulverized."

"Niko...," he said, reaching a shaking hand to his friend.

"Nothos," Niko cursed, raising bleary red eyes to Olan. "The bastard wanted me to think he'd killed her."

"Huh?" Olan grunted, confused. 

"That's not Camille," Niko replied. "I don't know who she is, but she's not my Camille."

Olan was convinced that his friend had lost his mind. Her body lay at their feet. What more evidence did he need?

"Niko, just hang in there, buddy. We'll get through this."

Shaking his head, Niko reached down to lift the shattered leg of the body, pulling the tattered, bloodied cloth of her slacks away to reveal a small tattoo of three small white flowers clustered together.

"White Oleander? She's one of them."

"Yeah," Niko said, his voice shaking. "She's a decoy to make me believe my wife is dead."

"They're trying to draw you out."

"Makes no sense. He could've just set that copter down and killed me."

"They want you alive, I'd say. Question is, why?"

"I don't give a shit. All I want is Camille. We have to get to her before they..." Niko said, letting his voice trail off. 

"I know, pal. We're going to have to come up with a plan. That woman of yours kept me alive. She saved my life, Niko. I want to save her as badly as you, but we have work carefully."

"I know," answered Niko, "and we're going to need a little help."

***

Pain was Camille's first conscious thought upon waking. It throbbed in her skull, radiating downward through her torso and limbs. Some piercing source of light was shining in her eyes, each in turn, while the sounds of voices echoed around her. 

She moaned, trying to move her head away from the light. Too late she realized her mistake. The sudden movement shot a wicked spasm of white hot pain through her head. Someone slapped her face lightly, telling her to wake up and be done with it.

Another voice, angrier than the first, came to her defense, while still another spoke to her with a slight accent. None of them made any sense and only one of them sounded familiar; the one that had belonged to the man who had slapped her.

The fog began to lift from her brain, allowing some of the chaos to form coherent thoughts. It was Doug's voice that spoke to her now, cold and cruel, telling her to pull herself together.

She opened her eyes, blinking against the harsh light overhead. As her vision cleared, she could make out the faces of the people around her. None of them was friendly, eyeing her with frosty scrutiny, seeming to size her up for some reason.

"Wake up, Camille," Doug said. "You've had long enough to recover. Snap out of it."

"Fuck you," she whispered, the sound of her own voice making her wince.

She heard his hand connecting with her face before she felt it. He had backhanded her hard, setting her mind to reeling again while the other man yelled at him.

"Christ, Gerhardt," the man said, "she has a concussion. You'll put her in a coma. Get out of here. At least let her heal up before you beat her to death."

"You stick to medicine, Doctor. I'll take care of interrogations," Doug shot back. 

"Get out," the doctor ordered again, "or there won't be anything left to interrogate. I'll call you when she's fit."

The third person, a woman, waved Doug toward the door, saying, "Let Dr. Mark do his work, Señor Gerhardt. The woman goes nowhere. She talks soon enough."

"I'll handle this, Alma," the doctor said before turning back to Doug. "Leave here at once or I'll report you to Oleander."

Camille tried to sit up on the bed, discovering that her left wrist was manacled to the bed frame. To make matters worse, she was naked with no more than a sheet between her and the other people in the room.

"Where are my clothes?" she demanded, clutching the sheet to herself. "Get this damned thing off my arm."

"I disposed of those rags, Princess," Doug answered. "You never did have any taste in clothing."

"How dare you," she screamed, ignoring the pain in her head. "Get me something to wear."

"I prefer you this way. It will be so much more convenient for what I have in mind."

Camille screamed again, pulling so hard on the shackle that the steel cut into her flesh. He drew back, laughing at her attempt to kick him.

"I told you to get out," the doctor yelled. "You'll kill her."

Doug finally relented, flashing a chilly smile at Camille. He left the room without another word. 

Shuddering uncontrollably, she held the sheet up tighter under her chin. She watched the doctor closely as he handed a bottle of pills to the nurse.

"Give her two of these every four hours," he said, picking up his stethoscope. 

"Wait," Camille said as he headed for the door. "Why am I here?"

"That, young lady," the doctor replied coldly, "is none of my business. I'm sure the man has his reasons."

"What's wrong with you people? You have me chained like a dog. This thing hurts."

Camille fussed at the steel cuff that chaffed her wrist, smearing blood on the sheets. She flinched as the man stepped forward suddenly, seizing her arm in his harsh grasp. He slipped a key into the lock, releasing the shackle and giving her wrist a cursory examination.

"Bandage this wound, Alma," he barked, dropping her arm. "Where'd you get that scar?"

"What's it to you?" she snapped, gingerly rubbing at her swollen flesh.

"I don't really care, young lady. Looks as if it's self-inflicted though. We'll have to make sure that Alma removes any dangerous objects before she leaves you alone."

The doctor left the room without a backward glance. Eyeing the other woman, Camille wondered what was happening to her. Worse yet, she wondered what was happening to Niko. 

Was he all right? She had a vague memory of gunshots and fear for his safety. Beyond that, she couldn't remember a thing.

"Chu give me arm," the woman, Alma, said.

Hesitating, Camille complied only after seeing the roll of gauze in the nurse's hand. As Alma started wrapping the injured wrist, Camille sized her up. The woman was tall with a pale olive complexion. Her dark hair was pulled up in a tidy bun under an old-fashioned nurse's cap. With her chocolate eyes, it would be easy to believe the woman was of Hispanic origin.

"What is this place, Alma?" Camille asked, glancing about the room.

It was a huge room, not at all like any hospital room she'd ever before seen. The walls were expensively paneled with a door made of the same dark wood and seemed almost invisible when it was closed. The furniture looked as if it belonged in a palace or a museum.

"Señor Oleander's mansion. Chu lucky girl. Thees ees luxury."

"You can drop the fake accent now," Camille said, fixing the nurse with a blatant stare. "It's really awful, you know."

"Que? Wha'chu mean?"

"Give me some credit for having a brain," Camille snorted. "I'd say you came from some place in the southern states. I doubt your heritage is even Hispanic."

"Yeah. You're so smart, huh?" Alma said, dropping all pretense of an accent. "Gerhardt thought it would be cute if I acted like a sweet little Mex. At least I can take off this crappy uniform now. I hate to wear white."

"Why do you call Doug 'Gerhardt'?"

"That's his name, stupid. Emil Gerhardt," Alma sneered, finishing the bandage. "He's one hot tamale, huh?"

Leaning against the mahogany headboard, Camille ran a hand through her hair, finding the tender lump on the back of her head. 

"How long have I been here? What happened to me?" she asked.

"You were out about two and a half days. Gerhardt's girlfriend did that. Don't worry. You got her for it. He was pretty pissed off at you."

"What do you mean? I didn't do anything." Camille asked, afraid of what the response would be.

"You don't remember? You pushed her off the helicopter. Of course, I should be thanking you. With her out of the way, he's fair game," Alma answered, smiling knowingly. "Oh, yeah. That's right. You thought you were going to marry him. Tell me, is he as good as he looks?"

"How the hell would I know? You're welcome to him. He's a lying sack of shit."

"You're not exactly his type," Alma laughed. "He likes women who know how to please a man. Marissa once told me that sex with him was a battle. I'd like to fight a battle like that. The only reason he paid attention to you was the job."

"So I gather," Camille scoffed. "Believe me when I tell you he's not my type either. I prefer a real man."

"Jealous?"

"Hardly. Why am I here, Alma?"

"You'll find that out soon enough, girlie. Doc says you're to take two of these," Alma said, thrusting out her hand. "Swallow 'em down, or I jam them down your throat."

Camille obediently put the unknown pills on her tongue and took a sip from the glass that the other woman held. With a smirk, Alma left, the resounding click of a lock echoing throughout the room. As soon as she was gone, Camille spat the pills onto the floor.

She was mystified. Had she really killed someone? She was turning into one of them, the killers that had helped to ruin her life.

It took her a minute to work up the courage to try her legs, and when she did, she had cause to regret it. The room whirled around her ominously as the rush of blood drummed a cadence in her skull. She grabbed the bedpost, gulping air while she waited for the pain and dizziness to subside. 

Once her body had settled down and her mind cleared she pulled the sheet off the bed, wrapping it about her naked flesh like a toga. With her modesty somewhat restored, she began to explore her surroundings. The first thing she did was try the door, which only confirmed what she already knew. It was locked.

Next she staggered to the windows only to discover them covered on the outside with steel bars reminiscent of a jail and more than three stories off the ground. She managed to get one of them open, allowing the surprisingly cool fresh air to cleanse her lungs and brain.

There was another door that she discovered led to a marble-lined bathroom. Splashing water in her face seemed to help wash away some of the fatigue and nausea she felt, but the image in the enormous mirror only served to disgust her. Her face was bruised and swollen, little resembling the woman she used to be.

Back in the cavernous bedroom, she took time to inspect things more thoroughly. The mahogany bookcase that spanned one wall contained an expensive array of first edition classic literature and assorted art work. 

The carpeting underfoot was thick and plush and the furnishings were the best that tasteful money could buy. Everything around her bespoke luxury and refinement and reminded her of the proverbial gilded cage. No matter how much they dressed it up, it was still her prison.

Her curiosity was piqued when she discovered something that just didn't fit in the room. It was a ceramic piece that would have looked more comfortable in a souvenir shop than the sumptuous confines of this room. Picking up the little statue of a geisha girl, she noticed something tiny shining from the center of its chest. To her dismay, she realized it was the miniature lens of a camera. 

Glancing about the room, she wondered how many more such cameras existed. She sprinted to the large wardrobe on the far side of the bed. Throwing the doors wide, she found it empty, dashing her hopes of finding suitable clothing.

Her pride came to her rescue. She'd be damned before she allowed them the satisfaction of seeing her crack. Taking a seat in an over-stuffed chair, she sat quietly, unmoving, her eyes staring straight ahead. Although her face was void of all emotion, inwardly she was a tempest of chaos. 

***

"What do you think Brick will do when he sees us?" Olan asked, rubbing his aching shoulder.

Niko shot him a withering expression before turning back to squint through the windshield at the setting sun. It was a question he'd asked himself often enough during the long miles they'd crossed.

"I imagine the bastard will shoot first and not bother asking questions."

"That's what I was thinking," Olan agreed. "You think you'll be able to talk your way in?"

"Either that or I'll have to shoot my way in."

"That'll be a neat trick considering he's got more firepower than the US military. What if he's not there?"

"He'll be there," Niko said, slowing to turn off the steep mountain highway onto a narrow dirt road. 

"Maybe we should wait till morning before we go wandering in. I'd hate to trip one of those damned booby traps of his in the dark."

"Loosing your nerve, pal?" Niko asked, watching the landmarks that he passed. "Damn. Everything looks different."

"You sure you can find the place?"

"Not a problem," Niko smirked. "All you have to do is get downwind of him. You can smell his stink from a mile away."

Twenty minutes later Niko pulled the vehicle to a stop, having finally found the single crooked tree that marked the path he needed.

"Stay here," he said, pulling out his gun and checking it. "I'll come get you after I talk to him."

"Nothin' doin', partner," Olan growled, pulling out his own handgun. "We're in this together."

"Christ. You sound like my wife."

"I knew I liked her for a reason," Olan laughed, hauling himself from the car. "You lead."

"Just stay low," Niko said, exiting the car. "He starts shooting, hit the dirt."

"You think he still has that mangy wolf?"

"Yeah. It's the only thing that can stand the smell of him."

Niko stepped carefully into the thicket, peering through the lengthening shadows, looking for anything that didn't belong. Brick was a careful man, if "man" was what he could be called. He lived like an animal and was more dangerous and unpredictable than a rabid coyote. 

"Easy," Niko whispered, putting out a hand to stop Olan. "Trip wire."

"What is it with this son-of-a-bitch?"

"He's got good reason to be paranoid," Niko said, stepping carefully over the wire. "Half the world is trying to kill him and the other half wants to hire him. Let's get moving."

The Rocky Mountains were not high up on Niko's list of places he wanted to be, and certainly not this particular mountain after dark. They'd driven for two days to get to this place. He damn sure didn't want to get blown up before he even reached his destination. 

They wound their way through the thick underbrush, avoiding a number of wicked-looking traps until the ramshackle cabin came into view. The brush and trees had been cut back, forming a clearing around the cabin fifty yards wide. It was those last fifty yards that worried Niko.

Both men hunkered down in the thicket, surveying the area around them. Deciding the coast was clear enough, Niko straightened to his full height, preparing to take his first step into the open.

"He's there all right," Olan whispered. "Stinks to high heaven."

"You'd think the asshole could take a bath once in a while," Niko returned.

There was an explosion of sound that sent both men diving into the dirt as bullets whizzed and ricocheted around them. The shots came in rapid succession, bringing tree branches raining down on them.

"Jesus Christ!" Olan hissed, trying to protect his head with his one good arm. "That crazy bastard's gonna kill us."

As suddenly as the volley had begun, the shooting ceased, leaving an eerie silence and the acrid smell of burnt gunpowder. Neither man was in a hurry to stick his head up, lest the shooting start again.

"You, out there," a voice yelled from the cabin. "Show yourselves."

"Not if you're gonna shoot at us again," Niko yelled back. 

"You're trespassing," came the reply.

"How the hell else we gonna see you? God damn, Brick. Put down the gun."

"Portello, that you? Come out where I can see you."

It had been a while since anyone had called Niko by his agency name. It sounded strange after the time spent with his wife and his real identity.

"You gonna put down that gun?" he asked.

"Hell, no."

"Then I ain't coming out. I came here to talk, not get my head blown off."

"Get your ass off my mountain then," Brick growled.

"I need to talk to you, you dumb son-of-a-bitch."

"Good luck," Brick laughed, firing a short burst into the trees.

"Cease fire, God damn it!" Niko yelled once the shooting stopped. "Don't make me regret saving your sorry ass back in the desert. I should've known I was making a mistake. Shoulda let those Arabs cut you up for bait."

There was a stream of curses that would make a sailor blush, followed by a lengthy silence.

"Well, come on ahead," Brick finally yelled. "I'll put the gun down and leave the door open."

Olan raised an eyebrow when Niko looked at him. The smirk Niko returned was more like a gnashing of the teeth than a smile. Both men stood cautiously, glancing at the house and approaching slowly with weapons drawn. Just because the man told them he would put the gun away didn't mean he actually would.

"I don't like being in the open like this," Olan whispered, stepping over the rotting hide of some long-dead animal.

"Me neither, but it's the only way in," Niko replied, his nose already starting to burn from the foul stench that wafted from the cabin. 

"God, he stinks."

"I heard that," Brick yelled from the darkened interior. "You don't like my perfume you can leave."

"Perfume?" Niko said, peering cautiously through the open door. "Smells more like a dead skunk. When's the last time you washed? You reek."

"Got caught in the rain just last month," Brick grinned as the men entered. "What the hell brings you two up to my cozy little nest?"

"Got a problem," Niko blurted, watching Brick through watery eyes. 

"Figured as much. Pour yourself some coffee and have a seat."




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 09



"I'll pass," Olan said, glancing about the filthy room. "Christ, Brick. How the hell can you stand to live like this?"

"There's the door," the big man said from his seat at a rickety table. 

As his eyes adjusted to the dim interior, Niko looked around for the source of the low growl in the far corner. Sure enough, Brick's one and only companion, a mangy, three-legged wolf stood with its head hung low and its hackles up. The animal looked as crazed as the man that it lived with.

When Niko took a step, the animal lunged forward, snarling viciously in warning.

"Shut the fuck up, Rafe," Brick snapped, sufficiently quieting the wolf. "You boys have a seat and tell me what's on your mind."

Niko pulled out a chair, inspecting it closely before perching himself on it. Olan remained standing, his disgust barely concealed.

"I need your help, Brick," Niko began. 

"Someone shoot me," Brick laughed. "The great Anthony Portello asking for help. Now I've seen it all."

"This is serious, Brick. I need your help. My wife..."

"Your wife? You got a wife? Where is she? I'd like to meet the sorry bitch dumb enough to marry you."

"Watch your mouth," Niko growled, leaning forward. 

"Didn't mean nothin' by it," Brick laughed again, holding up his hands. "Damn. She must be a hell of a woman."

"She'll be a dead woman unless I can get to her in time."

Brick's curiosity was piqued. Niko could see it in how the man's eyebrows shot up and the twist of his filthy face.

"What kinda trouble did she get into?"

"My trouble," Niko admitted, his eyes showing the sadness he felt. "I put her in danger and now... What do you know about tattoos?"

"Got plenty of 'em back in my Corps days. Needles and ink, not much else to it."

"The tattoo I'm interested in has a cluster of small white flowers – white oleander. Know anything about it?"

Brick frowned, leaning forward with his elbows on the rough table. He dropped his eyes for a moment, lost in thought. When he raised them again, his expression had taken a far-off appearance. 

"There was a rumor going around some years ago. Talk was about this guy with no name, no past. He was collecting an army of sorts and has more money than the national treasury. People call him 'Oleander', but no one knows anything about him or if he even exists. One thing's for sure. If you try to find out, you get dead quick."

"And the tattoo?" Niko asked, leaning forward again.

"It's supposed to be some kind of symbol. If you see someone with that tat, you wanna get away quick. Saw one myself, back in the desert. Man come to me and asked if I wanted a job. Didn't like the look of him, so I stepped away."

"What did he look like?"

"Average, I guess," Brick said, standing to reach for the coffee pot. "Tall fellow with brown hair. Coldest set of green eyes I ever saw. He offered me a lot of money, but..."

"I thought mercenaries hired out to the highest bidder," Olan interjected. "Didn't know you could afford to be so choosy."

"What the fuck do you know about it?" the big man spat back. "One of the benefits of my line of work is that I can refuse a job if I don't like how it feels. And I didn't like the feel of that one."

"Why not?" Niko pressed, watching the man's face closely.

"Something about it was just wrong. He was offering a king's ransom just to join ranks. No mention of what I would be doing, just join up and be one of the crew. When I asked questions, he got all sullen. But that was a few years ago."

"Have you seen him since?"

"Nope. Ain't heard much about Oleander since then either. What's this got to do with the trouble your wife's in?"

"We go way back, Brick," Niko said carefully. 

"Yeah. So?"

"So I'm about to let you in on a secret."

"Spook stuff?" Brick asked, taking his seat again. "Don't look so surprised. I know a government spook without looking. I can smell their shit."

"Yeah," Niko answered, wondering how the man could smell anything over his own stench. "My real name's Gregorios Nikodemos Pavli."

"The hell, you say. Now that's a handle."

"That's why people just called me Niko in my old life. Anyway, I sort of got drafted into this mess about eight years ago. The bastards took my life from me. I lost my wife, my home, everything, so that they could send me on a wild goose chase. Now this Oleander has my wife. He's going to use her to get to me."

"Sounds like a real problem, all right. I guess she should've known about the danger goin' in, though. Them's the breaks."

Niko felt a surge of white-hot rage. He wanted to wrap his hands around the man's throat. The old wolf, sensing Niko's mood, got to its feet again, growling out a warning.

"Shut up, Rafe," Brick snarled, tossing the animal a scrap from one of the dirty plates strewn about.

"She's a civilian," Olan said, taking a step forward. "She thought Niko was dead all these years. She's a good woman, Brick."

"Shit. Ain't no such thing as a good woman," Brick growled. "They're all bad, but if you're lucky, you get one that's bad in the right way. So what do you want from me?"

Niko stood, looking the mercenary in the eye as he said, "I want you to help me get her back."

Brick pulled himself to his feet, meeting Niko's gaze unwaveringly.

"No."

"I need your help on this, Brick. I need all the help I can get."

"Call the CIA. Call the State Department. Call anyone, just make it someone besides me. I'm retired, and I damn sure ain't gonna get myself killed for some piece of tail of yours." 

Niko got hold of his anger, jammed it down deep inside to use later. Brick was a crazy, unpredictable merc, but he also had a certain code that he lived by, warped though it was. Niko knew just exactly which buttons to push.

"I was thinking something along those very lines when I found you in that hell, my friend," Niko said quietly. "I was on the job, had a mission to complete when I saw what they were doing to you. Remember how they had you strung up? I told myself to keep moving, to not jeopardize my mission. 

"What they were doing to you was a crime, but none of my business. You knew what you were getting into when you entered that world. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that I should just keep going and ignore it all. But then you screamed. You screamed like a woman."

He stopped a moment, watching the way Brick's eyes clouded at the nightmarish memories. Niko had to hide his triumphant smile before he continued.

"They had you hanging there, strung up by your thumbs, beating you, burning you, cutting you. Remember how they laughed when you screamed?"

"I remember," Brick growled, his eyes glittering with suppressed rage. 

"You were more dead than alive by the time I worked my way into their camp. They'd gotten bored with toying with you, left you hanging there to bleed to death. I nearly got myself killed, but I got you out."

"And now you come to collect the debt," Brick snarled, advancing a step. "You think I owe your ass. Well, no one asked you to help. That was your choice."

"Yeah, and if I hadn't, you'd still be hanging there with your bones bleaching in the sun."

"You're a bastard, Niko."

"I know. Heard it before," Niko said, grinning widely.

"From that wife of yours, no doubt. Say I do help you. What's in it for me?"

Niko picked up a cup, poured a small amount of coffee into it and swirled it around. He tossed the dirty liquid into the dark fireplace and poured more into the cup. Taking a swig of the cold, bitter drink, he took his seat once more.

"Just a thought here," Niko said, staring into his cup, "but it just may be this Oleander is the guy we've been looking for. He may be the one who's been financing all this chaos and ultimately, may be the reason you were captured. How does a little revenge sound for compensation?"

"You must be in a buttload of trouble if you're coming to me for help. Why don't you just ask old Uncle Sam to call out the troops?" asked Brick. When Niko didn't respond, the merc grinned knowingly, laughing as he continued, "You're on the run, huh? Got in dutch with the boys at the Pentagon, didn't you? Now you come to ol' Brick with your hat in your hand."

"If this Oleander's as rich as you say he is, a man could live a pretty comfortable life on what he could steal. If we find him, you can keep anything you can carry out."

Niko knew he had the man. Brick's eyes glittered with greed and retribution. All he needed now was to hear it from the big man's mouth. But Brick surprised him.

"They say he's a cold son-of-a-bitch," Brick said, returning to his seat. "They say the man ain't got no feelings at all. He doesn't get angry and he doesn't feel pain. He just goes forward like a robot. I heard he even cut off his own nuts so that he didn't have to deal with basic urges. If that's true, you're dealing with a real sociopath here."

"I didn't think you were scared of anything, Brick," Olan said. "I thought you were the stuff that other men feared."

"A man'd have to be a fool not to be afraid of that one," Brick growled. "Besides, no one knows where he is. How you gonna find him?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something," said Niko, shoving his cup away. 

"Me, huh? How the hell am I gonna find him?"

Niko smiled, hauling himself to his feet again.

"A man in your line is very resourceful," he said. "I'm sure you know exactly where to find the information we need." 

"You mean a man who crawls around in filth, don't you? You calling me a dirtbag?"

Niko saw Olan biting his own tongue and understood his friend's predicament. 

"Not at all," said Niko. "I'm just calling you resourceful is all."

Brick grunted, scratching his beard, staring off thoughtfully. 

"I might know a guy," he said, looking at Niko again. "He owns a whorehouse in Nevada. Real scumbag. Uses his whorehouse as a front for a lot of illegal business. The man's got his hands in everything. Maybe he could shed some light."

"Let's get going, then," said Niko, heading for the door.

"Now? It's getting dark out there. We'll leave at first light."

"Afraid of the dark?" Olan scoffed. "A big guy like you? What will the other soldiers of fortune think?"

"Why don't you just shut the fuck up?" Brick snarled. "I can't just leave Rafe. He's got no one to look after him."

"He's a wolf, Brick," Niko returned. "Wild animals do for themselves."

"Shit," Brick hissed, casting the wolf a glance. "Keep an eye on the place, boy. I'll be back in a few days."

Brick opened a chest near the door, pulling out several items. Within minutes he had a lethal-looking blade and scabbard strapped to his hip, another in his boot, a holstered gun at the small of his back, a pack full of grenades over his shoulder and a Benelli M4 semi-automatic shotgun over his other shoulder. A vest loaded with ammunition completed the ensemble. 

"That's the spirit," Niko said patronizingly as he stepped into the fresh air. 

"Stay behind me," Brick muttered, walking through the door and leaving it open. "Step where I do and stay in a single file. Don't want you boys to get your balls blown off before we get to that tasty wife of yours, Portello. Or Pavli, I guess it is."

"Just get us out of this death trap," Olan demanded. 

They followed Brick's winding path back to the road. Once inside their vehicle, Olan and Niko opened the windows, nearly gagging from the man's body odor in the close confines.

They'd driven for a couple of hours when Niko detoured through Grand Junction, finding a military surplus store and stopping.

"Stay here," he barked after putting the car in park. "I'll be right back."

Olan glanced at Brick on the back seat. Both men shrugged, waiting as told until Niko returned. He was quick, returning with a large bag that he set on the seat between him and Olan. He hit the highway again, looking for a likely spot to pull off. Following a sign that pointed the way to a scenic river drive, he found a spot with easy access to the water. Pulling the car over, he jammed the shifter into park and got out.

"What's up, man?" Brick yelled.

Ignoring him, Niko moved to the rear of the car, opening the trunk to remove something. When he finished, he slammed the lid down before walking back to the side of the car.

"Out," he ordered, yanking the back door open.

"What the fuck?"

"Out of my car," he repeated. 

Brick got out slowly, his eyes never leaving Niko's face. It was clear that the man didn't trust Niko, but Niko didn't care. 

"Get down to the water and wash that stink off," Niko growled, handing the man a toiletry kit. "I can't see to drive because my eyes are burning."

"That's mountain water," Brick growled. "I'll freeze my nuts off. No fucking way."

Just then, Olan got out on the passenger side, holding a handful of paper money over the roof of the car. 

"I'll give you $500 if you go wash right now," he said, waving the money back and forth. "And it's worth every dime."

"Pansies," Brick muttered, snatching the money. 

"And don't put those filthy rags back on either," Niko added.

"What the hell am I supposed to wear?"

Reaching into the car, Niko pulled out the package from the surplus store, tossing it at Brick.

"Try those on for size. They're just your style," Niko laughed.

With a smirk, Brick followed the beams of the headlights to the water's edge. He shucked his clothing, tossing it all in one pile and his weapons in another. 

"Scrub yourself good," Olan yelled, "or you ride in the trunk."

"Fuck you."

The big man seemed to take forever. When he finally returned, he was grinning widely. His new clothes were clinging to his wet skin, his shotgun propped carelessly over his shoulder.

"You did all right, Pavli," he said, indicating his new clothes. "The shirt's a little big, but I'll manage. Smells funny though."

"Yeah," Olan laughed. "They're clean."

"Get in," Niko said as he yanked the driver's door open. "We wasted enough time."

"I feel like I'm on a date with you guys buying my new clothes and taking me to exotic locations," Brick said, folding himself into the back seat. "Just hope you two don't expect me to put out."

They drove through the night, cutting across the corner of Idaho, into Utah and finally, Nevada. Near dawn Niko pulled over, telling Brick to take the wheel to give himself a chance for some much-needed sleep. When he woke again, Brick was pulling the car to a stop in front of what looked to be a fenced compound.

Niko was alert instantly. Judging from the sign at the gate, they'd reached their destination, Johnny's Love Ranch. 

"We're here, Pavli," Brick said, cutting the engine. 

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out. How well do you know this Johnny?"

"Good enough to make him shit his pants when he sees me. I better go in alone."

"Not on your life," said Olan, checking his handgun. 

Niko was already exiting the vehicle, looking the area over carefully. It was still early in the day with few vehicles in the parking lot. That suited him just fine. The lack of customers meant few witnesses inside. 

"Let me do the talkin' then," said Brick, his voice laced with frustration. "This guy can get a little jumpy."

"Define 'a little jumpy'," Olan returned.

Niko tuned them out, intent only on his purpose. The sooner they got this business over, the closer he would be to finding Camille. Brick left his shotgun behind, removing the knife from his hip and tossing it on the car seat with his gun. He approached the gate, stopping to push the button that would announce a customer entreating entrance.

There was a sharp buzzing noise, followed by the gate unlatching. They were escorted in by a large man who sized them up, clearly not liking what he saw. After ordering them to wait in a room with garish furnishings, the man hit a button on the wall. 

A minute later, a line of scantily dressed women entered, each smiling and preening for their inspection. Brick stood, walking down the line, smirking at each woman in turn. 

"These won't do," he barked over his shoulder at the host. "Where do you hide the pretty women?"

Some of the women bristled visibly while others were approaching Niko. A tall brunette ran a hand down his chest, licking her lips provocatively. 

"You don't see anything you like, get out," the host barked as he took a step forward.

"You're not being too friendly," Brick sneered. "I think I wanna see the manager."

"I'm the manager, asshole," he replied. "Girls, get out."

"Who would put a pantywaist like you in charge?" Brick chuckled. 

The man advanced, his fists doubled as he launched himself at Brick. There was a collective gasp from the women when Brick's hand closed around the man's throat, effectively stopping him cold. 

"Where's Johnny?" Brick snarled.

Brick increased the pressure, slamming him backwards against the wall. The man's face began to turn blue, his eyes bulging. 

"I'm not going to ask again," Brick whispered. "I'm just gonna snap your neck like a twig."

The man raised one hand, pointing a shaking finger at a closed door. Brick released him, ignoring his wheezing gasp when the large body crumpled at his feet. He turned, nodding his head at his companions. 

They marched past the shocked prostitutes, through the door and down a hallway to another closed door. Brick put a finger to his lips, signaling for quiet as he bent his head to listen. From the sounds of the moans coming from inside, it was pretty obvious that someone was getting serviced. 

Turning the doorknob slowly, he stuck his head inside. With a malicious grin he signaled the others to follow as he stepped quietly through. 

A man sat at a desk, his head back on the chair, his eyes closed. In his lap was the busy head of a woman, bobbing up in down. 

Brick grabbed a handful of her hair. Her head was yanked back, causing her to scream. He left her scrambling to cover her nudity on the floor of the dank little office when he suddenly released her.

The man in the chair jerked upright, cupping his hands over his exposed sex organ. His face was a study of fear and surprise. When his eyes lit on Brick's face, he looked as if he wanted to vomit.

"Hello, Johnny," Brick said with a smirk. "Sorry to interrupt your play time."

The man, Johnny, glanced at the other two men and back at Brick. He tried to recover his composure, stuffing his shriveling manhood back in his pants. When he stood to zip up, Brick pushed him back down in his chair. 

The woman managed to get to her feet, wrapping a thin, short robe about herself. When she tried to slink out, Brick snagged her arm, pointing her toward a chair.

"Have a seat, darlin'. I'll get to you soon enough," he ordered.

She sank into a chair in the corner, her eyes never leaving the big man's face. 

"Well, Marion Brickler," the man said, having finally recovered his voice. "To what do I owe this surprise? I thought you were dead."

Olan snorted, coughing lightly in an attempt to recover.

"Marion?" he whispered, catching a warning glance from Niko.

"It's been awhile," Brick said. 

"I assume this isn't a social call," Johnny said, still trying to zip his pants. "You look different. Did you take a bath or something?"

"I want some information."

"How much you got to offer?"

Brick grabbed the front of the man's shirt, dragging him from the chair and holding his face just inches from his own. An expression of abject fear crossed Johnny's face. He looked like a rag doll in Brick's large grasp.

"I ain't payin' shit," Brick snarled, spraying the smaller man's face with spittle. "If you're lucky, I'll let you keep your cock and balls."

"You still sore over that business in California?" Johnny asked. "Come on, Marion. It's all water under the bridge."

"Fuck you, Johnny," Brick said, tossing him back in his chair. 




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 09



"What do you want to know? Tell you what; I'll give you what you want, free of charge."

Brick smirked, stepping back to let his partners have the floor. Niko sized the man up. This Johnny looked like everything Niko despised about the slimy underworld. His hair was oiled and slicked back, his frame skinny and soft from overindulgence in corruption and drugs. 

Reaching across the man, Niko picked up a small mirror lined with streaks of white powder. He looked from Johnny to the face of the young woman in the corner and back again. 

"I want information on another scumbag," he said quietly. "He goes by the name of Oleander. His people are marked by tattoos of..."

Niko stopped when he saw the horror on the man's face. Johnny glanced around, seeming to search for an escape route.

"I don't know anything," Johnny replied, not meeting his eyes. "You came to the wrong place."

"Then why do you look like someone just grabbed those diseased balls of yours?" Brick asked.

"I swear I don't know anything."

"Jog his memory, Brick," Niko said.

Brick hauled Johnny from the chair, slamming the man down face up on his desk. While holding a large arm across his throat, Brick pulled the knife from his boot, dangling it in front of Johnny's face.

"You know me, Johnny. You know what I'll do with this blade," Brick said softly, slowly moving the knife down the man's body. "I'll slice off your cock and balls and laugh while you bleed to death."

"I swear...," Johnny whimpered. "Please."

"Pull his drawers off, boys. Gonna have to get bloody on this one," Brick said, pressing the blade low on the man's belly.

"No," Johnny gasped.

"Christ. He just pissed himself," Olan said in disgust.

"Better talk, Johnny," Niko said. "You know how he gets when he smells fear."

"Wha... What do you want to know?"

"Just start talkin'," Brick said, pressing the knife a little harder. "We'll tell you when to shut up."

"Okay, okay. He's a dangerous man. If he finds out I talked, he'll have me killed."

"Too bad," Brick growled. "You lay down with dogs, you get up with fleas. Talk."

"He owns half the world," Johnny began. "He's the one that starts wars and causes disease and famine. He creates chaos."

"Who is he?" Niko asked.

"I don't know. No one does. Some say he lives on some island somewhere, but I swear I don't know where. I heard he's got some great scientist working for him. They say he's forcing the man to create bigger and better ways of killing people."

"That's all real interesting there, Johnny," Brick growled, "but it don't tell us shit. What else you got?"

"All I know is he brings in huge shipments of drugs, floods the streets with them. He's the guy that keeps the law busy with crime. It's how he keeps the rest of the world distracted. He feeds on corruption."

"And he keeps you supplied," Niko said, dumping the cocaine on his face. 

Johnny gagged, choking when he inhaled a mouthful. 

"You better come up with something," Brick said. "These here boys would like to stake you out and burn your ass alive."

"I don't know anything else, I swear. But... but there might be a guy. His name is Lansky. He's down in New Mexico."

"Never heard of 'im," Brick said, showing Johnny the gleaming blade of the knife again.

"Y... you been away a long time. Lansky is the new man. He controls most things out here. Just go see him."

Brick finally let Johnny up, telling him that he'd be back if the information turned out to be a lie. As they left, the big guard stepped out of their way, giving them a wide berth.

"You don't look much like a 'Marion'," Niko commented as they stepped into the bright desert sunshine. 

"Just forget you heard that, huh?" Brick replied. "Hated that damned name all my life. That's why I shortened my last name to Brick."

"I thought you were called 'Brick' because you're built like a brick shithouse," Niko laughed.

Brick's grin was only momentary, turning to a scowl when Olan said, "I thought it was because you smell like a brick shithouse. I mean, damn. You just had a bath a few hours ago. How does one man produce that kind of smell so quick? Ever heard of deodorant?"

"Man, that was harsh," Brick muttered. "You think just because I live in the wilderness I ain't got feelings?"

"Yes," Olan laughed, opening the door to the car.

"Well, you're wrong."

"Boys," Niko interrupted. "Save it for the enemy. We got a long way to go yet and we're running out of time."

"Friend of mine has an airfield about a hundred miles south of here. We can snag one of his planes," Brick offered.

"You drive," Niko said. "Just get us there fast."

***

"I look like a whore in this," Camille complained, plucking at the skirt of the form-fitting evening gown.

Alma led the way, ignoring Camille's outburst. Gerhardt had chosen the gown himself, had ordered her to see to it Camille wore the damned thing. 

"You just mind your manners when we get in here. Oleander wants to have dinner with you and that's what you're going to do," Alma hissed.

"Nervous, Alma?" Camille mocked. 

"Just shut your mouth," Alma said, pinching Camille's arm. "Oleander won't stand for rudeness. He'll have you cut up for shark bait if you talk to him like that."

"That would be preferable to suffering through a meal with him," Camille said.

"Just remember I warned you."

They entered a large formal dining hall, complete with a ridiculously long table. At one end stood a man that Camille had never before seen. When his eyes lit on her face, she knew she was looking into the cold, soulless eyes of pure evil. His hair was iron gray, his frame solid-looking beneath the finely tailored tuxedo he wore. 

"Hello, my dear," said the man. "I trust you found our accommodations pleasing."

"Go to hell," Camille whispered, her voice lacking conviction. "I demand you release me at once."

The few people in the room fell into a dead silence, waiting for the man to react. A moment later his head snapped back, his voice erupting in softly controlled laughter. 

"Gerhardt," the man said, "you didn't tell me what spirit she has. Charming. Very charming. Allow me to introduce myself, Mrs. Pavli. I'm Oleander."

"I don't give a damn who you are," she hissed, bristling under his amusement. "You have no right to keep me here."

"Oh, but I do. It seems the only way I'm going to be able to get control of that husband of yours. He's been a thorn in my side for some time. Now, with you here, he'll be too busy trying to find you to interfere with my business."

As the man spoke, he walked to Camille, offering her his hand. She slapped it away, spitting in his left eye. He drew his hand back, slapping her hard enough to send her flying backwards. 

"Such a pity," Oleander said as he wiped his hand on his handkerchief. "I had hoped you would be reasonable. Perhaps a few days in my little dungeon will teach you some manners. Olaf!"

Out of nowhere, a man appeared, moving so quietly and quickly that Camille had to blink to be sure she'd seen him. The man reached a white-gloved hand for her, gently pulling her back to her feet. He led her away, his grip on her arm telling her there would be no mercy from him.

He pulled her onto an elevator, pushing a button that started the lift moving. It descended for several minutes, and when it stopped, the air on the other side of the door was fetid and damp. Without speaking, the man pulled her along a dark corridor that seemed to be carved from solid rock, stopping in front of a narrow iron door. 

"Please," she begged. "Let me go. I have to go."

The man acted as if he hadn't heard her, opening the door to shove her gently inside. When the door closed, she was closed into the darkness of a clammy little cell, the only illumination being from the small slit near the top of the door.

"Damn it," she hissed, hugging herself against the cold.

"Are you real?" a voice asked from deep within the darkness.

"Who said that?"

"Me," the feminine voice answered. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I've been alone so long."

As Camille's eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could just make out a shadow moving near the far wall. 

"Who are you?" Camille demanded.

"I'm Lorette. I'm sorry you're here, but I'm glad I don't have to be alone anymore." 



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 10



How long she sat in the moldy cell, Camille had no way of knowing, but she was thankful for the company of the woman named Lorette. At first, she had been unsure of the woman, no longer knowing who she could trust or what to believe, but it was plainly obvious that Lorette had been a victim in all of this, just as Camille was.

Lorette's story soon unfolded in the many long hours, or maybe even days, they spent together. She told of her father, a scientist who was being forced to create a new weapon for the evil Oleander's arsenal. Lorette didn't know what the weapon was. She only knew that her father was a pacifist and this kind of work would cause him no end of pain. 

"This is straight out of James Bond," Camille had scoffed.

But Lorette was deadly serious in her telling of the situation. She'd been held for several long months while her father worked, only seeing the light of day whenever one of the two guards decided to take her out as a play thing. 

It was easy to discover which of the guards he was. Whenever he entered the cell to bring a meager meal, poor Lorette cowered behind Camille, whimpering softly and begging to be saved. 

The man's name was Rolf and he was as ugly as anyone Camille had ever seen. His face was pock-marked, with a bent nose and piggish eyes. She'd made up her mind from the man's first visit that she would do all she could to keep Lorette safe from him.

Lorette was a shy thing, speaking in a timid voice that Camille had to strain to hear. When the guards entered to bring food and fresh water, the light they brought with them showed Lorette to be a redhead with fair skin and the prettiest of green eyes. 

Although she was only a couple years younger than Camille, in many ways, Lorette was still a child. She'd led a very idyllic, sheltered life with her family – until her mother had been murdered when Lorette had been kidnapped. 

Now Oleander kept Lorette alive only as long as her father continued to work. Camille knew that she would find a way to escape, hopefully before Niko did something foolish. She was determined that she wouldn't leave without Lorette, no matter what happened.

Now the women sat huddled together, trying to stay warm in the chilly cell. Lorette dozed with her head on Camille's shoulder, murmuring in her sleep. Camille spoke soothingly, stroking the woman's dirty hair.

"You're wanted upstairs, missy," Rolf said after tossing the door open. 

Camille pulled the sleepy Lorette to her feet, heading for the door. She put an arm around the woman, hoping to shield her from Rolf's unwanted attentions.

"Just you," he barked, grabbing Lorette's arm. 

"Get your hands off her," Camille yelled, attempting to get between them. 

"This one stays with me," he said, smirking at Lorette when she whimpered. "You just have a seat, sweetheart. I'll be back in a few minutes. We'll have us a nice chat."

"Pig," Camille spat. "I swear, if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to make you pay for this."

"Big words from such a little whore," Rolf laughed, shoving her through the door. "Get your ass moving."

He dragged her down the corridor to the elevator. Once he handed her off to the other guard, he turned back with a smirk. Camille had little choice but to see the visions in her head of what the man would do to Lorette. 

The other guard pulled her onto the elevator, slamming her against the wall when she fought him.

"I've shown you nothing but respect, Mrs. Pavli," said the guard, a warning note in his voice. "That can change if you give me any trouble."

"Respect, my ass," she snapped. "You're holding me prisoner. That's not respect."

"I'm just doing my job."

"Some job," she sneered, rubbing the bruised arm he'd just released. "Do you show that girl in there any consideration?"

"I've never laid a finger on her."

"No, but you let your partner torture her. You may as well be doing it yourself."

"He's not my partner, and I don't approve of his methods."

"And yet, you do nothing to stop him. You're a pig, just like him."

He seized her arm, jerking her away from the wall of the lift. Holding her in front of the door, he waited in silence until the elevator stopped.

"I'll see if I can't distract Rolf from his games," he said quietly just before the doors opened and she was thrust forward.

"A little worse for wear, I see," Doug said when he caught her arm. "Maybe next time you'll behave."

"Fuck you, Doug... or Gerhardt or whatever your name is. Get your hand off me."

"As tempting as that offer is, I find your current state a bit repugnant," he chuckled as he pulled her to a staircase. "I've made arrangements for you to have a bath and a change of clothes. That rag you're wearing was fetching two nights ago, but now it's just a disgrace."

Camille snapped her mouth shut, jerking her arm from his grasp. She suffered another round of laughter from him while she climbed the stairs beside him.

"If only you'd shown this much backbone when I was your fiancé," he said, "I'd've enjoyed our time together so much more."

"I'm going to kill you, asshole," she said quietly. "I'm going to watch you die and laugh in your face."

He grabbed her arm again, whirling her around to face him. Clutching the lower half of her face in his hand, he pushed her back against the banister.

"You're in no position to make such threats, Camille," he ground out. "The only reason you're still alive is because that's how Oleander wants it. After what you did to Marissa, I wanted to tear you apart with my own hands."

That was the second time she'd been accused of killing the woman. It bothered her that she couldn't remember the incident. Her only memories were of Marissa beating on her and having to defend herself. Why could she not remember taking the woman's life?

"I don't believe you," she murmured once he'd released her face. "I didn't do it."

"Well then, who did?" he asked.

Their conversation was interrupted when a voice called from above, "You bringing her up or not?"

Alma stood at the top of the stairway, her arms folded across her chest, one toe tapping impatiently. Gerhardt dragged Camille the last five steps to the top and the waiting woman, where he left her without another word.

Alma led the way back to the room where Camille had first been imprisoned. Once inside, Alma turned to face her, wrinkling her nose in disgust at Camille's appearance.

"I'm going to give you a little advice," Alma said, cocking her head to one side. "You need to be careful around Gerhardt, and don't push your luck with Oleander again. The last thing I want to do is baby sit you, but that's my assignment. I have no choice. Stop making it so hard on me."

"So sorry to inconvenience you," Camille returned, "to be honest, I don't give a damn how difficult things are for you."

"I always hated your kind," Alma said, her face expressionless. "Your type always thinks that you're so much better than me. I had to scratch and fight my way out of a trash heap to get here and I'm not going to lose everything because of you. Oleander wants to see you. Get cleaned up or I'll scrub you down myself."

An hour later, cleaner and dressed demurely in a white cotton dress, Camille was led back downstairs. She walked into an enormous room that was richly furnished with leather chairs and an ancient desk that spanned nearly the entire back wall. This Oleander was nothing if not ostentatious. 

Alma told her to sit and wait, but Camille immediately tried the door when the woman left. On the other side was a man who told her to get back inside. With a sigh, she wandered about the room hoping to find anything that would be of use. Pulling back the curtains behind the big desk, she was struck by the setting sun over an ocean of deepest blue. 

Where the hell am I?

Before she could ponder the question further, the door opened again. Oleander entered, his face a study of the congenial host. 

"So glad you could join me for tea, my dear," he said, waving a hand at a chair. "Do have a seat."

"I wasn't given much choice, was I?" she replied, sitting on the edge of the indicated chair. 

He clucked his tongue, looking her over thoroughly.

"You're not looking well," he said as he walked to his desk to push a button. "It saddens me to have to put you through the rigors of my little prison downstairs, but you left me no alternative. I simply won't abide bad manners, young lady."

He strode to her, his eyes sweeping over her frame in a manner that made her feel naked. When he reached a hand to touch her face, Camille flinched away, jumping to her feet.

"Don't touch me," she warned. "I have no choice right now but to be your prisoner, but if you think I'll just let you get your kicks with me, you're sadly mistaken."

The man laughed, shaking his head as he waved his hand toward the chair she'd just vacated. He took the seat opposite, still giggling insanely.

"You've nothing to fear from me in that quarter, Mrs. Pavli. I don't suffer the base urges of the human male."

"Yeah, right," she said, cautiously perching on the chair again. "After what you let your men do to poor Lorette downstairs, I find that hard to believe."

Oleander was thoughtful, holding silent when a man in a morning suit entered, bearing a large silver tray. Camille recognized the man as the one who had dragged her from the dining room to the dungeon. She eyed him suspiciously, finding only the same stoic expression she'd seen on his face that night. He poured the tea, adding a teaspoon of sugar and a slice of lemon to Camille's cup.

"Thank you, Olaf," Oleander said, dismissing the butler. "You must forgive him, my dear. He doesn't speak. He can't, really. Not since I had his tongue cut out. You see, I believe in swift discipline for bad behavior. Now Olaf is my most obedient servant. I hope you won't do anything to merit the same treatment."

"You're sick," Camille whispered, horrified.

"That may be, but I'm not without mercy. I shall reprimand my two guards and see to it they leave the simpleton alone down there. Will that please you?"

"It would please me a whole lot more if you would get her out of there. That place is unhealthy and she's not doing well."

"It shall be done. See? Wasn't that easy? You'll find that I can be quite kind, when properly motivated. I hope your tea is to your liking, lightly sweet with a twist of lemon. Is that correct?"

"How did you know? Never mind. Doug. I don't know how I could've been so naïve," Camille said, looking into the cup and saucer she hand clutched in her hand.

"Our Mr. Gerhardt does have his uses, but I've had you under surveillance for longer than he's been a part of your life. I always knew Pavli would show his face again; I just didn't think it would take him this long. I finally had to resort to getting word to him that you were in danger. It was the only way to ferret him out."

"Why?" she asked, setting her cup aside. "Why was it so important to get to him?"

"You mean aside from his constantly being a nuisance?" Oleander replied, stirring his tea. "You're a smart woman, smarter than your husband it would seem. No, his minor trifling in my business is not enough to warrant such drastic measures."

"Then what is it?"

"He has something of mine, my dear, and I want it back. I doubt he even knows he has it, but I mean to have it returned."

"I don't know what it could possibly be. Whatever it was, I would think it would have been with him the night you tried to murder him. It would have been on his person or in his truck."

"Ah," Oleander said, placing his teacup on the table between them. "You should try one of these biscuits. I have them imported from England daily." 

"No!" said Camille, exasperated. "I don't want a biscuit. I want to know when I can get out of here."

"That, my dear, is entirely up to your husband," he said, plucking a cookie from the tray. "My men were sloppy that night, a mistake they won't repeat, I can assure you. They decided to shoot first and ask questions after. The fools did not make sure he was dead, though, so I suppose they did me that small favor."

Oleander took a bite of the treat, his face showing his pleasure as he chewed thoughtfully.

"If it wasn't in the truck, you're out of luck," she sighed. "Your people burned my house to the ground. If it was hidden in there, it's gone."

"On the contrary, Mrs. Pavli. It was your husband's colleagues who set the fire. But not before a thorough search had been conducted. No, my property was not there."

"Just exactly what is this 'property' you're searching for?"

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, my dear."

"Oh, for the love of God," she snapped. "Why do men always have to treat me like a mindless child? Is it because I'm a female? Is it the blond hair? I don't know if it occurred to you, whoever-you-are, but I might have seen this 'thing' of yours. Maybe I can help you find it and get the hell out of here."

Like quicksilver, the man's demeanor changed. He went from amiable host to Mad Hatter in the blink of an eye.

"The item I am seeking is small, no bigger than a box of matchsticks. It's black, square with a metal casing. Have you seen such an item?"

Arching a single eyebrow, she saw the way his eyes gleamed as if shining with some bedeviling light. She was afraid to answer him, afraid what he would do if he didn't get the answer he wanted.

"I suggest you answer me, my dear," he said as he stood up. "Shall I tell you something of myself?"

"I...," she began, her voice trailing off as the maniacal gleam in his eyes unnerved her.

"Oh, do let me," he giggled. "I was a careless youth, tucked away in a British orphanage at the tender at of seven. My uncle cared little for children. He would have nothing to do with me after my parents were good enough to die. Have you ever seen the warehouses, those asylums that Christian charity bestows upon the unfortunate children of the world?"

He stopped, seeming to wait for some response from her. When she failed to make a sound, he giggled insanely.

"No?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "Let me assure you, my dear, that Christianity is anything but charitable. The priests and nuns ruled by the rod. There were times when I took my beatings with gratitude, happy to build in myself the manner of hatred that comes only from the cruelty they imposed. When I came of age, when my body changed into that of a boy on the cusp of manhood, that's when the punishments became most foul.

"The male body becomes unruly for a boy of fifteen. When a particularly pretty nun had shown me some consideration, my body reacted. So offended was she by the evidence of my arousal that she brought me to the attention of the good Father. The penance was far worse than you can imagine, but I deserved it. It was at that moment when I decided that no part of me would ever be beyond my control again.

"Do you know your Bible studies, dear girl?" he asked, leaning too close for her comfort.

Camille shrugged, tilting her head back to watch his face.

"Matthew 18:9," he muttered, giggling again. "'And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee.' Words to live by, my dear, words to live by. I'm afraid that my manner of self-chastisement was a bit of a shock for the old priest. As I stood before him with my own severed testicles in my hand, he fainted dead-away."

"My God," she whispered. "You're insane."

"I suppose that's how my captors felt. After that, they locked me away in Bedlam. That's where I learned real discipline," he hesitated, his expression turning from giggling fool to that of a man possessed of great rage. "My body always obeyed my every command after that time. I have been in complete control of everything in my environment – with the unfortunate exception of your husband."

Oleander took a step closer to Camille. She felt as if she could feel his eyes gouging into the flesh of her face, so intense was his gaze.

"Having told you my history," he continued softly, "I'm sure you can see that I'm a man who will have what he wants. Now, I'll ask again. Have you seen the item I described?"

"N... no," she stammered. "I haven't."

He changed again, once more the amiable host serving tea. Oleander returned to his seat, smiling congenially as he reached for the tea pot.

"More tea, my dear?"

***

"You sure you know what you're doing there, Brick?" Olan asked for the ninth time since taking wing with Brick at the controls.

"There some reason you gotta keep at me, Red? I got us off the ground, didn't I?"

Niko had been listening to the two of them going at each other since leaving Nevada in the 1993 Cessna CitationJet. He'd had a bellyful of their bickering.

"The question is," continued Olan, "can you get us back down without killing us?"

"You can always get out now."

"Enough," Niko interrupted. "You two are like a couple of kids. Just shut up before I toss both your asses out."

Brick snickered, shaking his head as he maneuvered through the landscape at dangerously low altitude.

"Thinking of that woman?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Eyes on the sky, there, big guy," Olan said.

"Quit side-seat driving, asshole," Brick shot back.

"I'm thinking," Niko growled, "that she doesn't have a chance in hell with you two as my partners. Christ – what I wouldn't give for a dozen Special Forces personnel."

"Hey, you came to me, not the other way around, Pavli," Brick said. "Just say the word and I'm outa here."

"We should be so lucky," Olan laughed.

"Shut the fuck up! Both of you," Niko yelled. "Camille's in the hands of God-knows-what and you two think it's a big joke."

"Sorry, pal," Olan said. "We'll get to her."

"Damn," Brick said. "That's some hard-on you got for the woman. She must really be something. Never knew you to lose your cool over a skirt."

"I did this to her, Brick," Niko said. "It's my fault and I have to get her out. I thought I could protect her and all I did was put her in harm's way."

"Well, just hang onto your balls, Pavli. It might take a minute, but we'll find her. I can't wait to meet the woman that put that moon-eyed look on your face."

The plane descended further, giving Niko a birds-eye view of the terrain of southwest New Mexico. It was a barren-looking place, devoid of most signs of humanity. He'd never seen it from this angle. 

"You think your pal, Johnny, was telling us the truth?" he asked Brick.

"Yeah," Brick answered. "He knows better than to cross me. I just hope we managed to get in under the military radar."

"How we gonna handle this?" Olan asked.

"I figure we ask a few questions around town, feel this guy out, see what we're up against," Niko said.

"Or we could just go in with guns blazing," Brick suggested. "Hold onto your balls, boys. I'm settin' 'er down."

A perfect three-point landing it wasn't, jostling the crew when Brick brought the plane down on the high desert. The three exited the craft, glancing around at the arid landscape. There wasn't another living soul for as far as the eye could see, nothing but the empty barren endlessness of the desert.

"Where's this pal of yours, Brick?" Niko asked. "You sure we can trust him?"

"He'll be here," replied Brick, his voice a little unsure. 

"I hope so," Olan mused. "I'd like to get out of here before the owners of this airstrip come back."

"Afraid of a few drug smugglers, Red?" Brick asked.

As Olan opened his mouth to speak, Niko let out a vicious growl, shouting, "Don't start again, you two. Christ, I've had all I can take."

"That must be your guy, Brick," Olan said, pointing at a cloud of dust in the distance.

"Hope so," Brick said, loading his shotgun, "else this is gonna get real messy, real quick."

"I'd say we should take cover, but there isn't anything here but sand and dust to hide behind," Olan said, checking his own weapon.




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 10



When the vehicle finally arrived and pulled to a stop, a man stepped out, looking the three of them over as if sizing them up. 

"Brick," said the man, his only greeting, "where's my money?"

"Pay the man," Brick told Niko, shouldering his shot gun and walking to the truck. "Half now, half when we get there. Get drivin', Smitty."

"Wait a minute, Brickler," the driver said. "George didn't say anything about you bringing company when he called."

"Probably because he was too busy being pissed at me for taking his best plane. These are my partners, Smitty. That's all you need to know."

"Yeah, and for all I know," Smitty griped, "they could be cops or Feds or worse. I ain't too happy about this."

"Like I care about your happiness," Brick growled back. "Let's go."

The men piled into the old Suburban with the unhappy Smitty climbing behind the wheel. He glanced at Niko and Olan in the rearview mirror, startled when Niko took his gun out.

"No tricks," warned Olan.

"Look, I don't want any trouble," Smitty said. "I was just told I'd get a couple of thousand dollars for driving Brick around. I wasn't told anything about guns or extra men. I got enough trouble with the law."

"Don't start none, won't be none," returned Brick. "Just drive us to the hacienda. Then you're off the hook."

The hacienda, as it turned out, was the home of a retired Marine sergeant that had used questionable means to acquire his comfortable lifestyle. The man's name was Howard Kurth and happened to owe Brick a small favor or two. 

"You boys made good time," he said, clasping each of their hands in turn. "What happened to you, Brick? Get hooked up with a woman?"

"You know better'n that," Brick replied. "Ain't a woman out there worth keepin'."

"Well, someone sure got to you. Got ya all cleaned up. You smell almost bearable."

"Everyone's a comedian," he growled, waiting until he finished paying off the nervous driver before following Howard onto the veranda.

Once out of the relentless glare of the desert sun, Brick wiped his brow, taking a chair. Niko and Olan followed suit, watching for anything that looked out of place.

"Flora, drinks," Howard called through the door of the house before turning back to his guests. "Got me a little Mex gal that takes care of things around here. I don't understand much of what she says, but she sure is easy on the eyes."

"Bedding the help?" Brick laughed.

Howard shook his head, laughing as he said, "Tried it once. Bitch stuck me with my own knife. I guess No means No, even in Spanish."

A moment later, a pretty woman appeared with a tray that held a variety of concoctions, all designed to quench the thirst. After the men were served, the woman vanished as quietly as she had arrived.

"So what do you need?" Howard asked.

It didn't take long to explain that they were there to talk with the man named Lansky. Though their host did not seem pleased to help in the task, he told them he would help where he could, as long as they kept his name out of it. 

"Not a problem," Niko said, "we just want to talk to the man and then we'll be out of your hair."

"It won't be an easy task," Howard informed him. "Hell, the law's been after him for years. When he settled here, he surrounded himself with some of the worst cutthroats I've ever seen. About half a day's drive west, you'll find his ranch. You won't get within shooting distance, though."

"I suppose he's got some kind of watch patrolling the perimeter, huh?" Brick said.

"Yep," Howard replied with a curt nod. "He's a paranoid bastard. Best bet is to try to use the cover of night. Moon's pretty bright out here, so that'll be a problem. But I think I got something that might help with that. Got me a vehicle out back I used to use for night runs. It's hard to see. Come out back."

They followed the man to a large building, waiting for him to unlock the wide double doors. Stepping inside, he flipped a switch, flooding the interior with light. The structure was lined on one side with vehicles of all makes and models and on the other side with lockers and cabinets.

"Right here," Howard said, pulling a tarp off a vehicle. He stepped back to allow the others a view of the car, chuckling when he said, "The DEA and the ATF had a hell of a time following me in this. Non-reflective gray primer, four-wheel drive, Oxley Night Vision lighting, extra gas tank – they didn't stand a chance. She'll go about anywhere and reach speeds of 90 plus. You'll need NV goggles."

He walked to a locker, throwing open the doors. Inside was all manner of equipment that would make any military mission seem like a walk in the park. 

"Damn," Brick muttered, pulling an electronic device off a shelf. "You got more high-tech gadgets in here than Radio Shack. What the hell do you do with it all?"

"For the most part," Howard said, "I finance my way of lifestyle with it. Most of this stuff is just left-over from the days when I was running arms south of the border. Don't dabble too much in it now. I have a few munitions, too, if you want 'em."

"Hell, yes," Brick laughed.

Niko watched the exchange, feeling the press of time. Was Camille all right? He wondered what was going through her mind. He had to get to her soon.

"Get what you need," he said, heading for the vehicle. "Let's get going."

"I learned a long time ago not to stick my nose where it doesn't belong," Howard said, "but it sure seems to me like that fellow's got some issues."

"Yeah," Brick chuckled. "Woman troubles. It'll just take me a minute or two to get things loaded up. Sure do thank you for the help."

"No problem. Just forget where you found this stuff, will ya?"

"You got it, buddy," Brick said, shouldering a case of RPG's. "You'll be able to get your truck back at the airfield. Just send that dumbass Smitty out for it."

After loading the back truck with equipment, guns and ammunition, Brick climbed behind the wheel, checking the gauges to make sure there was plenty of fuel for the trip. Then they were on their way, heading west as the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky. 

It was well past dark by the time they saw the first marker that signaled the entrance to Lansky's ranch. Taking the vehicle off-road, they followed Howard's directions and their GPS around buttes and gorges until they got within half a mile of the big house. From there they hiked a distance to hide themselves in a small ravine.

"That must be the place," Olan said, peering through the high-powered night vision rifle scope. 

"Looks like it," Brick agreed. "I see seven men including two on the roof. Gonna be a bitch gettin' in there."

"How're you feeling, Olan?" Niko asked. 

"Now's a fine time to ask, Niko," Olan chuckled. "Shoulder's a little stiff, but I'll make it."

"All right, bro," Niko said, zipping the black jacket he'd gotten from Howard's machine shed. "I say we go in the back. We can use the out-buildings as cover. Trick is to take out the two guards in the back without arousing the others."

"Leave that to me," Brick said, clutching the knife handle at his waist. "I'll go in first. You guys move up after I take them out."

"Too risky," Niko said, searching the area through Olan's scope. "I'll take one, you take the other. Olan will cover us from that small shed near the corner of the house. No telling what we'll come up against on the inside."

"I hate to be the voice of reason here," Olan said, "but I think we're going at this about half cocked. Where are we going to take him once we get the bastard?"

"How about that shed we saw a few miles back?"

"Good idea, Brick," said Niko. "We'll question him there, find out what he knows."

"Let's get to it," Brick said, climbing out of the gorge. 

"Hey, I see movement down there," Olan said, peering through the rifle scope again. 

Brick zoomed in on the action, taking a moment to adjust the high-tech binoculars he'd acquired from Howard. Lowering the glasses again, he turned to his companions.

"Short, stocky with pale-colored hair. That has to be Lansky. Let's get back to the truck. They're on the move and headed up to the road."

Once back to the vehicle, they raced back to the dirt road that led to the house. Niko climbed to the roof of the vehicle after Brick brought it to a halt, using the binoculars to spot their quarry.

"I saw two men get in the SUV with him," Brick said.

"They're still about a mile off," Niko mused. "How we going to work this?"

"I say we drive 'em off the road, use the truck as a weapon," replied Brick. 

With a chuckle, Olan shook his head, saying, "You just like to break things, Brick."

The big man grinned, climbing back behind the wheel as Niko jumped off the roof and got in the back seat.

"Buckle up, boys," laughed Brick. "Let's play chicken."

"Oh, shit," Olan hissed, jamming the belt buckle into its slot. 

Brick slammed the shifter into gear, gunning the engine and kicking up a huge cloud of dust. He drove at break-neck speed, gauging the distance to the other vehicle through his night vision goggles. Olan removed his own goggles, preferring not to see what was coming on the narrow desert road.

There was no way the people in the SUV would be able to see them in time. As suspected, they were almost upon the other vehicle before it swerved off the road, flipping onto its top when it hit a ravine. 

Before the stunned occupants could gather their wits, Brick was hauling the driver out through a broken window, cracking the man's skull with the butt of his gun. Niko handled the other guard in much the same manner while Olan held a pistol on their target.

"You're coming with us. We got some questions for you," Brick growled, stepping up to the blond man. When the man only glared in response, Brick grabbed the front of his shirt, hauling him from his feet as he asked, "You gonna do this the hard way?"

"Do you assholes know who the fuck I am?" the man hissed.

"Yeah," Niko replied. "You're Burt Lansky and are real scumbag."

"Enough talk," Brick snarled, knocking the man cold.

He tied Lansky, tossing him in the back seat of the truck. Within minutes, they were on their way to the abandoned shack that they'd passed before entering the ranch. With any luck at all, they'd get the information they needed and be out of New Mexico before anyone realized what had happened.

"Get the lamps," Brick said, shouldering the still-unconscious Lansky after pulling the truck to the back of the shack. 

Niko carried the lanterns, setting them up inside. He helped Brick lower the man to rest on a rickety table, hoping the furniture would hold under Lansky's weight. They tied him down, each limb to a table leg.

"Wake up, asshole," Brick yelled, slapping the man's face. 

Lansky came around slowly, shaking his head as he glanced at the three men who had captured him. Brick took a step forward, grabbing the man's hair and pulling his head up.

"We got some questions," Brick said, pulling his knife from its scabbard, "and you're gonna answer them. If you don't, I'm going to strip the hide from your bones starting at your chest. I'll keep cutting until I get to your cock and balls. Then I'll cut them off and let you bleed out. Got me?"

Lansky spit in his face, shaking from head to toe with rage. Brick grinned, dropping the man's head and tearing the shirt from his frame.

"What the hell is that?" Olan said, holding a lamp over the man.

"White oleander," Niko said as he stared at the small tattoo near Lansky's shoulder. "Do what you have to; make the son-of-a-bitch talk. He's one of them."

"You bein' squeamish, Red, you might wanna step outside," Brick grinned. "This is gonna get messy."

"You're a funny guy, Brick," Olan said. "Just get to it."

Brick slid the through the tattoo, cutting a deep furrow through the cluster of flowers, smiling maliciously when Lansky gasped in pain. 

"Where do we find Oleander?" Niko asked.

"Fuck you," was Lansky's reply. 

"Wrong answer," Brick said, slicing into the tattoo again. "You're a hefty guy. Lots of flesh to cut off. This might take us all night."

The man struggled against ropes, grunting as he fought not to scream. Niko felt his stomach turning. Brick was the right guy for the job, torturing Lansky as if he really enjoyed it. 

"You lost your badge of honor," Brick laughed, tossing a flap of bloody skin to the floor. "Better start answering or you won't have any flesh left to paint up again. Where's Oleander?"

Lansky still refused to answer, finally giving voice to his pain when Brick sliced into the man's right nipple. Niko headed for the door with images of his wife screaming in similar pain filling his mind. Stepping into the cool desert night air, he ran his finger through his hair, saying a short prayer to the Virgin for strength.

***

"Thank you, Camille," Lorette said softly. "I thought I was going to die down there."

"Don't mention it, honey," Camille returned as she finished braiding the woman's hair. "Now we just have to figure out a way to get the hell out of here."

"There's no way out. This island is in the middle of nowhere. The ocean is full of sharks. It's hopeless."

"Nothing is hopeless, Lorette. We're going to get out of here. You have to believe that."

The girl started to cry softly, her thin shoulders shaking under Camille's hands. 

"I want my father," Lorette sobbed. "I want my mother back. We're trapped on an island with Satan and this is where we're going to die."

"Stop it," Camille hissed, putting her arms around the girl. "We'll get out of this, you hear me? If I know my husband, he's on his way here right now. Nothing will stop him."

The door to Camille's bedroom flew open. Alma stood on the other side of the threshold, her hands on her hips. 

"Gerhardt wants you," she announced, glaring at Camille. 

With a sigh, Camille stood, straightening the white dress she still wore. The morning sun was obscured by black clouds, casting an eerie glow on everything in the room. She patted Lorette's shoulder, hoping to offer the girl some reassurance.

From the smirk on Alma's face, Camille knew that this wasn't going to be an amiable chat with her former fiancé. Something in the woman's demeanor left a cold feeling in Camille's soul. 



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 11



Camille tasted bile rising in her throat. Glaring at the man she once trusted with her life, she felt as if the world were spinning out of control. 

"You heard me," Gerhardt said. "Strip."

"You go to hell."

She said the words with far more conviction than she felt. There was no way out except through him. The door that he blocked was solid steel and not likely to be opened easily. Still, she had no intention of doing what he demanded of her.

"You can either do as I say, or I'll have your little friend brought down here to take your place. It's your choice."

Camille wanted to kill him. He smirked at her, knowing he'd get his way, knowing she would do anything to keep him from hurting Lorette. She had never taken her clothes off for any man except the one she had married. The thought of undressing in front of this particular man made her want to puke.

"I'm waiting," he said, "and I grow impatient."

"I'll kill you, Gerhardt," she said softly, reaching up to the first button on her dress. "I'm going to cut your heart out."

He crossed the room so quickly that she didn't have time to react before he backhanded her. She fell across the table next to her, her mind reeling as she felt the cold steel of the surface against her burning cheek. His hand gripped the back of her dress, tearing it from collar to hem before he grabbed a handful of hair and dragged her upright again. 

"You will obey my every command, Camille," he growled. "I'm your master now, got that? You exist solely to please me."

"You're as demented as that creature up there that holds your leash," she spat, knowing it would only anger him further and not caring. "If you think you can scare me, you're sadly mistaken. Fuck you. I should've listened when Niko's friends tried to warn me about you. What a con artist you are."

He grabbed the front of her dress, tearing it from her body. She lashed out, fighting him with everything in her limited arsenal. Her nails raked his face, her knee barely missed his groin. When she sank her teeth into the flesh of his upper arm, he tossed her across the room where she landed with a thud against the wall.

Camille was on her feet again, picking up a wooden chair to hurl at his head. He ducked it easily, coming at her with his arms outstretched. She dodged away, putting the table between them. 

"That's it, baby," he grinned from his side of the table. "I like my women with a little fight in them. Makes it so much more fun to beat them into submission."

"Submission?" she screamed. "I'll never submit to you. Niko couldn't believe it when I told him you'd never touched me. I think he figures you're gay or something. Do you prefer men, Dougie? Or are you neutered like your boss?"

"I still have my equipment, bitch," he snarled, lunging across the table at her. "I'm going to show you."

He seized her arm, pulling her over the table and off the other side. She hit the floor hard, slamming her knees into the tile. With one hand tangled in her hair, he wrenched her head back while his other hand worked to open his pants.

"I'm going to give your mouth something to do besides talk," he yelled. "Open up."

Clenching her teeth shut, she fought back, grabbing his exposed manhood and twisting viciously. He yelped in pain, releasing her hair, raising his fist to deliver a dizzying blow to her head.

Camille fell against the cold floor, panting hard as she tried to gather her wits about her again. Rolling to her belly, she pulled herself up onto her hands and bruised knees. She made an attempt to haul herself to her feet, only to yanked upright by her hair. 

"You'll pay for that," Gerhardt hissed in her ear. "I'll make you sorry you were born."

"You don't have that much power over me," she countered. "You can't make me sorry for anything except meeting you. Do your worst, Dougie. In the end you're nothing more than a little boy throwing a tantrum."

"Bitch," he snarled, dragging her back to the table by her hair. "I was just going to fuck you and call it done, but now I'm going to teach you what real pain is."

The air left her lungs in a rush when he picked her up and slammed her on the cold surface of the table. He produced a piece of rope, using it to tie her hands together. Gasping, trying to get her wind back, she did what she could to fight him off with little success. 

He stepped back, jerking her off the table by the end of the rope. Camille hit the floor hard, groaning with agony and rage as he dragged her to a corner of the room. Hauling her upright, he slipped a dangling hook between her wrists. 

"Let's see how you do with a little bondage and torture, baby," he chuckled.

Gerhardt walked to the wall, unhooking the end of another rope that extended to the ceiling. Glancing up, Camille saw the pulley over her head, felt her arms jerked sharply upward. He continued to pull the rope until her feet dangled more than a foot from the floor.

Moments later, he had placed a large tub under her, lowering her again until she was on her toes inside it. He disappeared, coming back into view with a bucket in his hand. 

"Water's a wonderful conductor," he laughed, pouring the contents of the bucket over her head. "I have to tell you, in all those months I put up with your simpering and fawning, I dreamed of having you in this position."

Camille gasped against the shock of the cold water, shaking her head to dislodge the droplets from her eyes. 

"I love the way your nipples turn hard for me," said Gerhardt while running the tips of his fingers over her bra. "Shows me how much you want me. Are you wet, baby?"

His fingers moved down, digging into her skin as they burrowed into the waistband of her panties. She struck out with her feet when he found her most intimate flesh, harshly jamming a digit into it. 

"So dry," he said. "Don't worry, darling, I'll fix that for you."

He stepped behind her, beyond her view. She tried to turn herself but her toes kept slipping on the bottom of the tub. The next sensation she felt was a burning jolt of pure hot electricity when something touched her back, causing her muscles to lurch and shake. Pain shot through her convulsing body until the current was removed, allowing her body to sag defenselessly.

"You liked that, huh?" he said, laughing manically. 

"I... will... kill... you," she said, her voice catching on her panting breaths.

"I'd like to see that," he returned, hitting her briefly with the electricity again. "Now, Oleander wants me to ask you a few questions. I'd like to think that this little demonstration has proved to you that I intend to have answers. First, tell us where to find your husband."

"Go to hell," she hissed, blinking to focus her eyes again.

"Wrong answer," he said just as another jolt of burning current exploded through her. "Let's try again. Your husband has gone underground again. Where has he gone?"

"How," she panted, "should I know? He was gone for eight ye..."

Another powerful shock seized her muscles, silencing her voice. The jolt stopped only to start again, scrambling her thought processes and stealing her breath. 

"It's apparent that I'll have to use more drastic methods," he said, tossing down the long black rod with which he'd been torturing her. "Of course, Oleander wanted me to use truth serum, but I find this technique so much more fun, don't you?"

Gerhardt stepped back in front of her, moving to a cabinet and removing a knife. When he returned to her, he made short work of cutting away her undergarments, leaving her completely naked. 

"You do have a lovely body, Camille," he mused while removing other items from the cabinet. "Do you see this, darling? It's an anal probe. I'll shove it up your pretty bottom and attach it to my little machine. There are other accessories, too, but I'll get to that in a moment."

She felt the cold metal of the rod when he stepped behind her. The minute it came into contact with her anus, she renewed her struggles, kicking and screaming with her remaining strength.

A knock at the door was her saving grace, or so she hoped. Gerhardt laid the rod onto the table, moving to the door to unlock it. On the other side were Oleander and his faithful servant, Olaf. 

"Well, my dear," Oleander began, crossing the room to lift her chin with a well-manicured finger, "I see that our Mr. Gerhardt has decided to disregard my suggestion about using sodium pentothal. I hope he hasn't been too hard on you."

"I'll bet it just tears you up," she whispered. 

"Oh, but it does. I hate to see you in such pain. I know how humiliating this all must be for you. Why don't you just tell him what we need to know so we can put an end to this unfortunate misery?"

"I don't know anything," she said, pulling her face away from his touch. "I don't know where he is, but if you just wait, I'm sure he'll find you."

Oleander laughed, a sound that caused Camille's blood to run cold. He took a step back, clasping his hands behind his back.

"You really are precious," he said, smiling broadly. "Men have been searching for me for decades and they are still no closer to finding me than they were in the beginning. I can assure you that we're quite safe here on my little island."

"Then why so desperate for answers?" she asked, struggling to pull her weakened body up straighter. "Could it be that you're getting a little scared? I'm sure if you had any balls, they would be crawling back up inside your body right now."

The man's smile faded, giving her a brief glimpse of rage before he masked it again behind a stoic expression. 

"Mr. Gerhardt, if you please," Oleander said softly, "teach this woman some manners."

Gerhardt retrieved the cattle prod from the floor, waving it before her eyes before tapping her left nipple with it. Her body jerked and convulsed with the biting pain and current that coursed through her. When he removed it, she sagged forward, hanging limply from the bindings that held her wrists. 

"Now, Mrs. Pavli, tell me where your husband is," Oleander said. 

"On... his way... here," she stammered, struggling to breathe. 

"Olaf, lift her head," Oleander ordered. "I can't hear her."

The butler did as he was told, lifting her face gently with his gloved hands. When she looked into his eyes, she saw something unexpected on the silent man's face – pity. 

"Where's you husband, Mrs. Pavli?" Oleander asked again.

"I said... he's on his way."

"Your faith in your husband is admirable, my dear, but you still haven't answered the question," Oleander said. "Mr. Gerhardt..."

Olaf released her carefully as Gerhardt stepped forward again. This time he placed the pronged end of the device against her labia, grinning viciously when he hit the switch. The pain was unbearable, seizing her body in its grip, sending her mind into hell. Even after the current was cut, her muscles still convulsed. 

Gerhardt grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back to see the drool oozing from her lips. He laughed as she struggled to breathe, trailing the prod menacingly down her body. 

"Tell us everything you know about your husband, Mrs. Pavli," Oleander said. "I want to know where he might have gone, who he might contact. Also, if you can think of it, where would he hide something important? I can assure you, Mr. Gerhardt is an expert in female torture. He's made a study of it in his life. Young Marissa was most fond of his cruel attentions, but I fear you may not survive him, especially in light of your having killed the poor girl."

The words Camille mumbled were unintelligible, spoken with a swollen tongue. Her eyes rolled around in her head, refusing to focus on any one subject. A hand slapped her face; a voice near her ear told her to pull herself together.

"I'm afraid I did not quite catch that, dear. What was it you said?"

She blinked her eyes, forcing them to focus on Oleander's face. Licking her lips, she swallowed hard, taking a deep breath to steady her pounding heart.

"I didn't kill the bitch," Camille rasped. "She was standing over me when I lost consciousness. Gerhardt lied."

"Interesting, Mrs. Pavli. But what I asked for was information about your husband."

"I don't know. All I know... he needs to get to someone named Hansen. That's all I know."

Gerhardt released her hair, allowing her head to loll forward. He raised the prod again, aiming for her face when Oleander stopped him.

"She knows nothing, Mr. Gerhardt. Olaf, tea in my study. Mr. Gerhardt, you will join me."

"How's it feel?" Camille whispered as Oleander turned toward the door.

He turned to face her again, raising a brow when he asked, "What's that?"

"How's it feel to know the world is closing in around you?" she asked, trying to form a smile with her swollen lips. "The end is near, Oleander."

Gerhardt jabbed her midsection with the prod, holding it there while her body contorted uncontrollably. After several moments, he finally switched it off. The men filed out of the room, leaving Camille hanging while the world grew dark around her.

***

The longer he stood outside the dilapidated shack, the more impatient Niko became. The sounds of Lansky's screams filtered through the thin walls, echoing off the rocky buttes in the silvery moonlight. Niko thought again of returning to the scene of grisly torture but thoughts of Camille in similar pain kept him outside. 

The door opened giving escape to Olan from the scene and the sudden silence inside. Niko didn't remember ever seeing his partner look as green as he did at this moment. 

"Rough stuff, huh?" Niko said, glancing away from Olan.

"Yeah," Olan agreed, running a hand over his face. "I wonder how many lives Lansky destroyed with that poison he peddles. Wonder how many mothers've lost their children to addiction."

"Enough that he likely deserves what he's getting. Is he talking?"

"Yeah, he spilled everything," said Olan, flipping a small notebook closed. 

"Did he give up Oleander's organization?"

"He'd give up his own mother. Brick's finishing up now."

Niko splayed his fingers, scooping his hair back from his forehead. He knew what Olan was saying. The tortured man was out of his misery now. Niko tried to put the horror of it all out of his mind, focusing on his objective – to find his wife.

Both men turned at the sound of Brick's heavy footsteps. The giant had a piece of Lansky's tattered shirt, using it to clean the blade of his knife. He tucked the weapon away in its scabbard at his hip and turned to scrubbing at his hands with the cloth. Tossing the bloodied rag down in disgust, he stalked toward the vehicle without sparing either of his companions a glance.

Brick fired the engine, jamming it in gear while Niko and Olan were still climbing aboard. Spraying a cloud of dust and sand over the entrance of the shack, he drove like a man possessed, heading for the road. 

"O... kay...," Olan said, eyeing Brick from the back seat. "Lansky said that this Oleander is holed up on some island in the Pacific. Says it's not on any charts or maps, but he gave up the coordinates."

"What else?" Niko asked, turning in the seat to better see Olan.

"The man spilled his guts, pal. There's stuff about that scientist Johnny was talking about, and about holding the man's daughter hostage until he finishes some kind of technology thing that Lansky really didn't know much about. Said Oleander's in a snit over something that was lost and he wants back."

"What something?"

"You remember that caper a few years back when the CIA blew up that yacht that was carrying some foreign dignitaries? You know. The one that was carrying that group of Arabs."

"Yeah? What about it?"

"Well, it gets kinda hazy," Olan said, scratching his head as he tried to make out his notes in the thin light of the moon, "but it seems there was some hotshot computer whiz on board and he was carrying some plans or something. Anyway, the guy and his plans were destroyed. According to Lansky, there was only one other copy and Oleander can't find it. That's why he's holding that scientist or whatever he is and his daughter. He's been trying for a couple of years to duplicate the work, but hasn't had much luck."

"That doesn't tell me where Camille is."

"No, but it explains why he's been trying so hard to haul you in alive," Olan said. "According to Lansky, Oleander thinks you took it and have it hidden somewhere. He put a huge bounty on your head. Do you have something like that?"

Shaking his head, Niko sat back in his seat, lost in thought. After a few moments he turned back to Olan, fixing him with a meaningful expression.

"What else did he tell you?" Niko asked.

"There's a lot here. No one seems to know who this Oleander guy is. He doesn't seem to have a past or even an identity. Seems he just showed up one day and decided to try to take over the world. Lansky said the guy is certifiable, but he's got more money than God. And...," Olan let his voice trail off, watching Niko's face closely.

"What?" Niko asked.

"He said Oleander... He said the guy is a bad one. Said he has no conscience. He likes to hurt people, Niko."

There was a stab somewhere near Niko's heart. The urgency to find his wife became almost overpowering, momentarily sapping his reason. Shaking his head to clear it, Niko turned back to the front of the vehicle. He felt sick to his stomach thinking of what Camille must be going through. Saying a silent prayer to the gods of his ancestors, the Virgin and God, himself, Niko hoped she was still alive.

It was dawn when Brick brought the vehicle to a halt near the airstrip where they'd left the jet. The men worked in silence, unloading the vehicle, putting the weapons on board the plane. 

"Think she'll get off the ground?" Olan asked, eyeing the pile guns and explosives.

"She'll fly," Brick growled, heading for the cockpit.

"I think I'll try to grab some sleep," Olan said, rubbing his aching shoulder. 

"Good idea," agreed Niko, following Brick. 

Niko sat in the copilot's seat, strapping himself in while Brick ignited the engines. Something about the big man's demeanor was unsettling. He just didn't seem to be his usual gruff self. Once airborne, Brick threw off his seatbelt, tearing at his blood-spattered shirt until he had it off. Wadding it into a ball, he pitched it into the floor of the plane behind his seat.

"You all right?" Niko asked. "You been awful quiet."

"I hate the smell of blood. Can't get it out of my nose," Brick said quietly.

There was a moment of silence while both men watched the rising sun. Brick let out a stream of oaths, his big body shuddering visibly.

"What I did down there," Brick said, "makes me sick. That's why I retired. I don't have the stomach for it anymore. I just want peace in my life."

"I'm sorry to drag you back into it, Brick. I didn't know where else to turn."

"Do me a favor. Go someplace else next time."

Niko had no response. He could see how troubled Brick was, didn't want to upset him further. The truth was Niko needed Brick's help. He had to use every means at his disposal to get to Camille.

"Is there such a thing as peace in a man's soul – for guys like us, I mean?" asked Brick, staring out at the clear sky.

"I feel it every time I hold my wife, Brick."

"I ain't talking about getting laid, asshole. I'm talking about finding something that gives a man hope."

"That's what I mean, Brick. Haven't you ever loved a woman? There's nothing like the love of a real woman to complete a man. When I hold her, when she smiles at me, I know that everything's gonna be all right."

"Bet she doesn't smell like death and blood and misery, either."

"No," Niko chuckled. "She smells like spice and summer rain. She smells like love."

"You're scared for her, ain't you?" Brick asked, turning to glance at Niko.




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 11



"Yeah. She deserves better than the life I gave her. I put her through hell, Brick. I hurt her more than any woman should be forced to survive."

Brick snorted, adjusting a few of the controls, shaking his head as he said, "A man in love is weak."

"You're wrong," Niko replied. "Because of her, I can move heaven and hell, and I'll do just that to get her back."

"Maybe I should get me a woman," Brick mused aloud. 

Niko burst into laughter, shaking his head as he looked Brick over.

"You'd have to bathe regularly. Women don't care much for the natural ambiance of a man."

"Just so you know, Pavli," Brick said quietly, "I don't like to wallow in my own stink. It's the only thing that smothers the smell of death. It clings to me. It's a smell that no amount of soap can wash away."

They fell silent again. For the first time since pulling Brick out of that prison camp all those years ago, Niko was getting a clear look at the goliath that sat next to him. There seemed to be something eating away at him. Long minutes ticked by before either of them spoke again.

"I need to get to Illinois," Niko said.

"What? What the hell would you want to do that for?"

"I think I know what Oleander is looking for. If I can get to it, I might be able to use it as leverage."

"That's a fool idea," Brick growled. "You know if you give whatever it is to the son-of-a-bitch, he'll just kill you and your woman anyway."

"Who said I was going to give it to him?" Niko fairly yelled. "I just said I would use it. We have to figure out a way to get me as close to the capital as possible without being seen."

"That's gonna be a hell of a trick," Brick chuckled. "You'll get your ass shot."

"It's a chance I'm going to have to take."

***

Eyes, black as night and bright as the sun, smiled down at her. The heat of his breath danced over her flesh, tickling the fine hairs of her skin. The touch of his hands, the feel of his arms around her, told Camille that everything would be all right. 

"I love you, agapi," he said.

The sound of his deep voice caused her heart to do a flip. Niko was home. Niko was alive, warm and real – and he was hers again.

She snuggled deeper in his arms, sighing contentedly. How had she survived in those long, cold years without him?

Niko's laughing eyes vanished in a flash of searing pain. Camille's back arched, her body jolting awake in terror. A sound akin to a gunshot exploded behind her, bringing the gut-wrenching pain again. 

A scream tore itself from her throat, a sound she didn't recognize as her own. The pain subsided slowly, allowing her mind to clear, if only momentarily.

"Look at my face, you bitch!" Gerhardt screamed, yanking her head up by a handful of hair. "Look at it."

She blinked her eyes, trying to focus on the man in front of her. If she hadn't been lost in her own misery, she might have found satisfaction in the mangled visage that glared at her with such fury. 

"He branded me," Gerhardt continued. "Because of you, he branded me. He had that faithful guard dog of his hold me down while he sliced up the side of my face. You like it? 'L' for liar. That's what he called me. He thinks I lied to him about Marissa. I'm going to teach you to open your mouth around me."

Gerhardt inhaled deeply, reaching up to swipe the back of his hand over a stream of blood that oozed from the letter carved into his left cheek. That's when she saw the leather bullwhip he had used to awaken her. She began to struggle, only now realizing that her wrists were still tethered to the ceiling. 

She saw his arm draw back, saw the tanned leather snake out as if in slow motion. The sound of it slicing through the air was enough to cause her muscles to tense in dread of the coming blow. The braided strap coiled about her body, licking her flesh with fire, tearing the delicate skin of her breast.

The agony wrenched another anguished scream from her throat, stealing her breath. The next blow wrapped about her thighs before she could inhale again. After that there was only a black void where she no longer felt pain. 

Camille would have happily died in that dark place, but Gerhardt had other ideas. The next thing she felt was the icy water with which he doused her. Her pain-wracked body shivered uncontrollably as she tried to focus her eyes on the menacing man in front of her.

"I want you awake for this," he hissed. "I want you to feel everything I give you."

He released the rope from which she was suspended. Camille's legs folded under her, her body collapsing onto the rim of the metal tub and the hard floor beneath. She felt his fingers tangle in her hair when he grabbed her, dragging her to the table. He gripped her aching arms, tossing her over the edge of the table on her belly with her legs dangling to the floor.

"You've had this coming for a long time," said Gerhardt, wrenching her thighs apart. "Let's see how you take a real man."

His fingers forced open her sex, pulling painfully at the skin and hair. She tried to move, to defend herself, but her body wouldn't cooperate. All she could manage was a grunted protest when he tried and failed to impale her with his member.

"I'll make you wet," he said, spitting in his hand. 

He smeared the saliva over her labia, forcing his fingers inside. She lashed out weakly with one leg only to have him hit the back of her head in response. Her face collided with the table, nearly rendering her unconscious again. 

"Stay with me, bitch," he hissed, pulling her head back so hard that he almost snapped her neck. "I want you to feel this. I want you to know it's me that fucks you."

The door to the torture chamber opened at that moment. Olaf entered to stand in front of her. His face held a strange expression that stopped Gerhardt instantly. Muttering a string of oaths, he stepped away from Camille, walked around the table and left the room. 

Camille tried to pull herself upright, horrified when the butler moved around behind her. She felt his hand on her back, holding her in place. Whimpering softly, she awaited this new fate, hoping the end would come soon.

The next sensation she felt was that of cloth being draped over her. The silent man gently turned her, wrapping a blanket around her as he lifted her from the table. When she looked into his face, she saw sadness and something that looked like anger. 

He shook his head, carrying her from the room. His expression changed and once again, he was the stoic butler, carrying out his master's bidding. 

She closed her eyes, leaning her head on his shoulder, allowing the darkness to once again claim her. Once more, she was in that black void where nothing mattered but the laughing eyes in her dreams. 

Camille had no idea how much time had passed, but when she woke, it was to the misery of pain. It burned in her limbs and on her skin, clouding her mind. Something cold and wet was stroking her face while a voice softly crooned. She moaned, trying to move away from the chill, squeezing her eyes shut against the brightness of the room.

"It's okay, Camille," the voice said. "You're safe now."

"Niko," she whispered.

"No, it's Lorette," the voice said. 

Camille opened her eyes, blinking several times to clear them. The face that came into view was full of worry. 

"Olaf brought you in," Lorette said. "I think he was upset when he laid you down. He was so careful with you and then just stared at you for the longest time. Then he suddenly left. He scares me."

Lorette turned away, walked to the bathroom with a bowl of water in her hands. Camille could hear her dumping the water out, filling the bowl again. When she returned, Lorette dipped the cloth, wringing it to continue bathing Camille's skin.

"No," said Camille, holding up her hand to stop the girl. "Help me get dressed."

"Honey, you can't put clothes on. Your skin is all torn up. It'll hurt too much. What happened?"

"My ex-fiancé worked me over. I'll survive, but before this is over, I'm going to kill that asshole," Camille said, disgusted by the words that came from her own mouth. "Can you believe I just said that? I spent my whole life preaching pacifism and all I want to do right now is see Gerhardt's blood on the carpeting."

"The human spirit can only take so much abuse," said Lorette, shaking her head.

The door opened, admitting the silent butler. In his hands he carried a large box. Camille clutched at the sheet that covered her body, glaring at the man.

"What do you want?" she whispered, casting a glance at the cowering Lorette.

Unable to answer her, he removed several items from the container, setting them on the table beside the bed. He'd brought gauze for bandages, ointments and antiseptic. The last item he took out was a bottle of pills that he handed directly to Camille. The label identified the contents as vicadin. 

"Thank you, Olaf," Camille said, shoving the bottle back at him, "but I don't want them. I need a clear head."

He nodded slightly and set the bottle on the table. Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he bowed gallantly before leaving the room.

"What a strange man," Lorette said once he was gone. "I think he likes you."

"Maybe," Camille whispered, pulling herself painfully upright, "but I think it's possible that he's not the faithful trained mutt Oleander thinks he is. Could be he's just waiting for the right moment to get back at that sick bastard."

***

The hours ticked slowly by. With each passing moment, Niko felt time running out for his wife. He tried to put thoughts of her out of his head, waiting impatiently in the parked van outside the Illinois State Capital building.

He went over the past twenty-four hours again in his mind. Exhaustion was just one of the enemies that he struggled against. He was glad he'd managed to catch a little sleep in the plane on the way from Nevada to Illinois. Still, his eyes were tired, burning as he focused on the environment outside the van window in the light of street lamps.

After dealing with Lansky, they'd gone from New Mexico to Nevada in near-record time, landing once again on the airstrip where Brick's friend, George Morrow, owned a small air-freight business. Brick had only laughed at the man's expression after telling him they'd be taking the plane again as soon as Morrow could have it fueled up. 

George Morrow was an amiable fellow, and he knew when to keep his mouth shut. He'd produced several maps and charts for the three to use in their effort to locate the mysterious island that Oleander was supposed to own. There was nothing but the wide expanse of Pacific Ocean where the coordinates led. It wasn't until Morrow had pulled out an ancient naval chart from the eighteenth century that they found the tiny speck that would be the island in question. 

Armed with this information – and a small arsenal of weapons – the men had left Nevada, landing on a small abandoned airstrip near Pleasant Plains, Illinois just past sunset. From there, they drove a stolen van to the state capital to scope out the activity in and around the building itself.

"How you planning on getting inside?" Brick asked.

"Through the front door," Niko replied, rubbing his tired eyes. 

"Hate to rain on your parade there, Pavli, but I don't think they're going to let you just walk in," Brick scoffed, shaking his head. "You ain't got a prayer in hell."

"Got any better ideas?" Niko snapped. "If you do, I'm all ears."

"They have to have a janitorial staff, right?" Olan interjected.

"Yeah," Niko answered, watching the front of the building. "They used to contract out to a local company to come in at night and do the cleaning."

"Do you have any idea what time they come in?"

"Used to be around 10:00 PM, if memory serves. They entered through the west side doors."

"It's quarter to ten now," Brick said, glancing at his watch. 

"Okay," Niko said. "Drive us around the block. I wonder if we can get that close or if they even still use that entrance. Looks like they stepped up security since nine-eleven."

Brick moved the van, following the one-way signs around the block until he reached the drive that led to the west side of the capital building. Niko opened the door, sliding out quickly.

"Park it west of here, on Monroe. With any luck, we'll be out of here in thirty minutes," he told his companions. 

Slipping into the shadows, he hid behind a dumpster, waiting to see if the cleaning crew still kept the same schedule. Twenty minutes later, a white panel van pulled in the lot. Four people got out, all heading for the side entrance. Niko recognized one of them, an older man that had been doing the same job when Niko had been employed by Senator Hyde all those years ago.

"Jim," he called softly from the darkened corner.

The man broke from the others, heading for the shadowy figure near the dumpster. He approached carefully, his head cocked to the side.

"What is it?" the man said, stopping several feet away.

"You don't recognize your old fishing buddy?" Niko asked, glancing around.

The man stood frozen as Niko walked into the beam of light emitted from the lamp overhead. His eyes grew large, blinking several times in disbelief.

"Niko? Niko Pavli?" the man asked in amazement. 

"It's me all right, Jim. How ya been?"

"Can't be. You... You're dead. My old eyes are playing tricks on me."

"It's me, Jim."

"I knew it!" Jim fairly yelled. "I knew you weren't dead. When they didn't find your body, I just knew it."

Niko held up his hands, glancing around. 

"Keep it down, will you, Jim?" Niko hissed. "It won't do me any good if anyone finds out I'm here."

"What happened to you, man?" Jim whispered. "They said you got into some trouble, went and got yourself drunk and drove off in the drink."

"It's a long story and I just don't have the time," Niko answered, stepping back into the shadows. "Listen, I'm in trouble and I need your help. We been through a lot together. Can I count on you to keep a secret?"

"Damn it, Niko. You know you can. You were there for me when I almost lost everything. If it wasn't for you, I'd be just another drunk in the gutter. What do you need?"

"Thanks, Jim. You don't know what this means for me. I need to get inside. I have to get something I left in the basement, in the old boiler room. Can you get me down there without anyone seeing me?"

"I can try. Wait a minute. I got Mark's badge in the van. You'll need that to get in. He's out sick this week. You don't look much like him, but if you keep your head down, maybe no one will notice."

Jim ran back to his van, returning a minute later with an id card and a hat. He handed the items to Niko, telling him to pull the hat low over his eyes.

"I don't know if I should tell you this," Jim said when he opened the door to the building, "but something's happened to Camille."

"I know, Jim," Niko said, stepping into the cool interior. "That's why I'm here. Some really bad people have her. I'm trying to get her back."

"Where you been all these years, Niko?" Jim asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "She went through hell after you left. No one could reason with her. She just refused to believe that you'd died."

"Ah, Jim," Niko whispered as they passed one of the guards, "I fell into a mess that I can't tell you about. With any luck at all though, the thing I need downstairs will put an end to it."

"It's Hyde, isn't it?" Jim asked. "I know that son-of-a-bitch is dirty."

"Why do you say that?" Niko asked, glancing sharply at his old friend. 

"Hey, you make a living cleaning up after people; you tend to figure things out. What's he into?"

"I can't talk about it, Jim. I really appreciate your...," Niko said, letting his voice trail off when he realized that the guard was following them. 

Once he and Jim reached the locked door to the building's underbelly, he kept his head down, waiting for Jim to find the right key. The guard seemed to be hovering, hanging back, sizing him up. Niko felt more than a little uncomfortable under the man's scrutiny, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally moved away.

The door was open at last, allowing the two men to walk down the ancient steps to the dank confines below. It took a minute for their eyes to adjust to the dim glow of the old lamps that lined the walls and ceiling. 

"Where is it?" Jim asked.

"There's an old cabinet in the south end. There used to be, anyways," Niko answered, looking around.

"That old blue closet? It's still there. I keep the winter stuff in there. I don't remember seeing anything in there that don't belong, though."

"That's because it's behind the cabinet," Niko said, leading the way through passages that were once familiar. "There's a loose block in the wall. I just hope I can get it and get out of here before that guard decides to start asking questions."

"Yeah, he's a spooky one, that one is," Jim said. "Used to work for the FBI. The guy thinks everything is a conspiracy. I think you know him."

Niko stopped short of his objective, whirling around to face Jim. Alarm bells went off in his head as he struggled to keep himself calm.

"Not Bob Phelps," he said.

"Yeah, that's him," Jim replied. "He came to work here six or seven years ago. You ask me, the guy's got his own agenda, always poking his nose in everyone's business. He watches everything that happens here."

"Christ. I never even looked at the guy," Niko said, grabbing the side of the large cabinet. "I just kept my head down like an idiot and walked by. I need to get out of here before he catches me."

Jim stepped up to help, infected with Niko's urgency. The two pulled the large cupboard away from the wall enough for Niko to get behind it. 

"I thought you two were friends. Don't you trust the guy?" Jim asked.

"He's part of the reason I'm in this mess," Niko replied, scraping his knuckles while prying out the one loose brick. "The fucker set me up."

"You're wrong, Niko," a voice said from several feet away. "I didn't set you up, but I know who did."

Niko let out a string of oaths. He had just put his hands on the slim metal box that had caused so much trouble when he heard the all-too-familiar voice of Bob Phelps. Drawing his weapon, he stepped from behind the cabinet to face the man he had once called friend.

"Nothos!" Niko hissed, pointing the gun at Bob's face while clutching the box in his other hand. "I swore I'd kill you if I ever laid eyes on you again."

Jim took a few steps back, shrinking against the damp wall of the corner. Niko ignored him, concentrating his hatred on the uniformed man in front of him. It took all his willpower to keep from pulling the trigger.

"You haven't changed much," Bob said. "I always knew you were alive."

"Yeah, you son-of-a-bitch, you failed. Next time you drop a dime on someone, make sure he's dead."

"You want to shoot me?" Bob laughed, raising his hands in front of him. "Go ahead. Put me out of my misery. Go on."

"Pull that hog leg," said Niko, his voice soft and menacing. "See how fast I kill you."

"Before you shoot, you should know a thing or two."

"You got nothing I wanna hear."

"Niko," Bob said, lowering his hands, "you were my brother. I didn't do what you think. I knew you'd believe I set you up. When I got there and found a spent shell casing at the boat dock, I knew what happened. I just couldn't prove it. Then they hauled your vehicle out and there was no body. I had no idea what happened to you, but I knew you were alive."

"Don't hand me your bullshit. You set the dogs on me. You were the only one I called and you hung me out to dry."

"No," Bob insisted. "Why? Why would I do that? You were the only real friend I had. Damn it, Niko."

Bob ran a hand through his hair, turning to slump onto a crate. 




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 11



"I've heard enough," Niko said. "I'm going to walk out of here and you're going to escort me. I see anything funny and you're the first to die."

"I'm not going anywhere," Bob said. "You want me dead then shoot."

"I'll walk out with you," Jim offered from the shadows. 

Niko ignored him, still focusing on Bob. He took a step closer to the man, pointing the gun directly at his left eye.

"On your feet, asshole. You're walking me out."

"Nope. Gonna sit right here until you either shoot me or you listen," Bob said without hesitation. "You know what happened to Camille, don't you?"

"Don't say her name. You got no right to mention her."

"Where is she, Niko?"

"Yeah, like you don't know," Niko growled. 

"Me? How the hell would I know anything about it? Someone burned her house to the ground and she's nowhere to be found."

"Look fellas," Jim said, sidling away from his hiding place, "this ain't got nothing to do with me. I gotta get to work."

"Stay right where you are, Jim," Niko said over his shoulder. "I don't need anyone raising the alarm. I'll be out of here in a few. After that, I'd appreciate it if you keep your mouth shut about all this."

"You got my word, Niko," Jim said, slinking back against the wall once again. "You know I'll never talk."

"You're a good man, Jim," said Niko, never taking his eyes off Bob. "Now, Phelps. Get on your feet."

"Fuck you, Niko," Bob said. "I been through hell. You should've seen the look in her eyes when they told her you were dead. I was there. Where were you? I watched her die a little every day, never knowing what happened to you. And I couldn't tell her anything, not without putting her in danger too. My God, Niko. Where have you been?"

"Not another word," Niko warned.

"They kicked me out of the Bureau. Did you know that? I was forced to resign. The more I pushed to find something out, the more hostile they got. It was the SAC who did it. I just couldn't prove it. I took this job so I could keep an eye on Hyde. The sneaky bastard never showed his hand, though."

"I don't believe a word you say, Phelps," Niko hissed, taking a step closer. "Now your buddies have my wife and I'm going to get her back."

"My buddies? Go fuck yourself. I mourned for you, you bastard. I held her while she cried a river for you. Where the hell were you? You want to believe the worst of me, you go right ahead, but know this – I lost everything trying to find you. And I'd do it all again."

When Niko started to speak again, Bob told him to shut up, standing to push his chest against the gun.

"That night, when you called me, I made a mistake. I told you not to speak to anyone, but I turned to the one person in the Bureau that I thought I could trust. He kept me in his office, talking at me for half an hour," Bob said, stopping only long enough to take a breath. 

"I didn't think anything of it when he stepped out of the room for a minute," Bob continued. "That's when he did it. That's when he made the call. I knew it when I found you gone. I knew it when they said you were dead. A week later I saw him having lunch with Hyde, laughing over drinks. I tried, but I couldn't come up with anything concrete to pin on them. God knows, I tried."

"I got a mountain of hate for you, Phelps," Niko ground out, his finger tightening on the trigger. "I laid in that hospital for months just dreaming of the day I'd get a chance like this."

"Then do it, God damn it. Shoot me. Get it over with. Just be sure you're shooting the right man before you do it, or you'll spend the rest of your life wondering. Do you think I'd be here, doing this, living like this if I got some big payoff for handing you over? Think, man. You've known me a long time. I may be stupid, but I've never turned on a friend. You know that."

"People change," Niko said.

"Not me. I'm still Bob Phelps, the closet fag who's too stupid to know a trap when he sees it. I let you down, Niko. I'm sorry. But I never did what you say. I couldn't."

"Why should I believe you? All I know is I called you and then I was ambushed. You set things up pretty good."

"I'm a fool, Niko. That's my only excuse," Bob replied, looking Niko in the eye. "I did something stupid and I almost got you killed. Both our lives were ruined that night, and I've lived in hell every since. I have no idea about you, but I've had enough. Now's my chance. Let me help you. Let me try to do penance for the mistake I made."

"What do you take me for? I trusted you once and look where it got me."

"How can I prove it to you?"

"You can't."

"There has to be something. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

Niko hesitated, lowering the weapon slightly. He and Bob had been as close as brothers once, sharing their triumphs and their miseries. 

"One chance," Niko said. "You even look like you're planning something and I'll blow your head off. Got that?"

"Anything. Name it," Bob said with a sigh of relief. "Tell me what to do."

"We're walking out of here. There's a van waiting. You're coming with me. I have a long way to go and I'm running out of time."

"Where are we going?" Bob asked, heading for the exit. 

"None of your business," Niko said. "Jim, thanks. I'll never be able to repay you."

"Think nothing of it," Jim said with a shaky voice. "I think I'll hang out down here until you guys get clear."

"Good idea. Remember, not a word."

"You got it, Niko," Jim said, pushing the cabinet back into place. 

"Head straight for the west exit," Niko told Bob. "Just remember I'm right behind you with a gun at your back."

"You gonna tell me what happened?" Bob asked over his shoulder. "Where were you all these years?"

"Just shut up and walk," Niko growled, following him up the stairway. "Let's get something straight. You and I aren't friends. I'm only taking you with me in case I need leverage. Once you out-grow your usefulness, I might just decide to put a bullet in your skull."

Bob snapped his mouth shut, grinding his teeth as he fought to control his temper. It didn't matter to Niko as he hid the gun inside his shirt. He'd managed to skirt around the metal detectors when he entered the building and only hoped there wouldn't be another guard at the door when he left. 

They made it outside without incident with Bob leading the way to the edge of Monroe Street. Niko spotted the van, saw Brick's grimace when he realized they'd be having company. Ordering Bob into the back seat, he took the spot next to him, leveling his gun on the man he most hated in the world.

"What the hell is this shit?" Brick demanded as the men climbed in.

"Just drive," Niko ordered. "Phelps here is going to keep us company for awhile."

"Phelps?" Olan asked from his seat in the front. "Not the one in the FBI, the guy that set you up?"

"The very one," Niko grinned maliciously. "Hand me your gun, Phelps. Real easy. And the belt."

Bob glared at Niko, carefully removing his belt, holster and all. He tossed it on the floor at Niko's feet without a word.

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Brick demanded, pulling out of the parking spot. "You better tell me what's going on or we call it quits right here."

"This, Brick," Niko said, glaring at Bob, "is a rat, a mole, a maggot-infested piece of shit. He hung me out to dry eight years ago."

"I was right," Bob muttered. "You haven't changed a bit. You're still a fucking idiot."

"You'd do well to keep shut," Niko warned. 

"No. I'm here and I'm gonna talk. You want me to shut up, you're going to have to shoot me," Bob said.

"Don't tempt me, asshole."

"I'm telling you, it was the SAC. It was Lyle Stanford. He had me fooled."

"Special Agent Lyle Stanford?" Olan asked, turning to look at Niko. "He was Special Agent in Charge at the FBI here before you got drafted. We've had him on the watch list for some years now, every since he got sent to DC last year. The Company knows he's dirty, pal."

"Yeah and this one's his mole," Niko retorted. "Get us to the airfield, Brick. Let's see if this prick can fly without a parachute."

"He showed up at my place about a year ago," Bob said. "He wanted to know if I'd heard anything from you, Niko. He said something that day that really made me think. Said that he had reason to believe you were alive and had some kind of mental break. Said that Camille was in danger. The way he said it made me think that he was actually threatening her."

"Yeah, right," Niko scoffed. "You'll say anything now."

"Did you know she was planning to marry again?" Bob snapped. 

"I told you not to mention her. You do it again and I'm going to take particular pleasure in watching you bleed."

"Well, while you're beating me to death, he's probably torturing her right now."

Niko's temper nearly got away. He glared at Bob, fighting the urge to kill him on the spot.

"I guess that got your attention," Bob said gravely. "I tried to tell her. I told her that something was wrong with the guy. I still have a few contacts in the Bureau. No one could find anything on him."

"So?" Niko said, still struggling with his temper.

"I mean nothing. No identity, no past. I even ran his prints, but nothing. I'm trying to tell you the guy didn't exist. He just appeared out of thin air one day."

"He's got her now," Niko said, his voice shaking. 

"Fuck. I knew it. God damn it. Why wouldn't she listen to me? After a while, she just stopped talking to me. It was like the guy had taken over her life, wouldn't let her be herself anymore."

"She's a stubborn woman," Niko said, shaking his head.

"She is that," Bob agreed. "Why don't you lower that gun before your driver hits another bump?"

"Hey," Brick yelled from the front seat. "I ain't his driver."

"No offense, bub," Bob said. "Listen, Niko, I'll do whatever I can to make things right again. I swear on the grave of my mother, I didn't turn you over. You and Camille were the only family I had. I want to see her safe as much as you do."

"We'll see about that," Niko said, lowering his weapon. "You give me one reason to suspect you and I won't hesitate to kill you."

"Fair enough," Bob said as the van sped out of town.

"Niko," Olan said, "I hate to break up this touching reunion, but don't you think it's time we call Hansen in on this?"

"Been giving it some thought," Niko answered, holding up the box he'd carried from the Capital Building. "When I snatched this thing that day in Hyde's office, I had no idea what kind of trouble it would cause. What the hell is it, I wonder?"

"Looks like an old computer drive," Bob offered.

"Whatever it is, it's going to help me get Camille back," Niko said. "We need a secure connect to the ranch. It's gonna be a bitch to reach Hansen without getting traced."

"I don't know who you're talking about, but I might know someone who can help," Bob said. "If you'll trust me, that is."

"No time," Niko said, eyeing him skeptically. "We'll have to try to radio from the air. We'll have to take the chance."

"You're the boss," Brick said, taking a turn too fast. "We'll be at the airfield in a few."



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 12



"Camille, you should rest."

The words came from a great distance, prying into her thoughts as she stared at the awakening day. She was tired—having slept little in the night—and her body was wracked with pain. Leaning heavily against the window frame, all she could think of was how to get out and what Niko was doing.

"Camille?"

She turned her head to see the sleepy-eyed Lorette gazing at her from a few feet away. The woman's face was a study of concern, pale and watchful. 

"I think you should take one of these pills," Lorette said, holding the bottle out in front of her. 

"No, thank you, Lorette," Camille said with a sigh. "I need to keep my head on straight."

"I'm worried about you. What are you looking at out there?" Lorette asked, taking a step closer.

"The sunrise. I've lost track of how long I've been here."

"Seems like I can't remember being anywhere else," Lorette returned. "I want to see my father."

Camille straightened with a grimace, turning to face the forlorn woman at her side. She laid a comforting hand on Lorette's arm, hoping the small gesture would alleviate some of her sadness. 

"I know, honey. I want to see Niko again. I need to tell him how sorry I am. If only I'd listened..." Camille said, letting her voice trail off.

There was a soft knock at the door, interrupting whatever Lorette had been about to say. Olaf entered, carrying a large tray, laden with what was presumably to be their breakfast. Camille frowned, wondering what it was the man was doing there so early. 

After setting the tray upon the table in the corner, he held a chair out, meeting Camille's eyes expectantly. His startling gaze compelled her to take the proffered seat, if a bit warily.

Once seated, she kept her eyes on him, wincing slightly at the pain that turning her neck caused. His gaze left her face briefly as he reached in front of her to lift the lid off a plate on the table. He shifted his gaze to her face and then pointedly back to the plate again.

Camille glanced down, expecting to find eggs or some other offensive breakfast food, but found only a few slices of melon, a small handgun and two loaded clips. Her head snapped up, a gasp escaping her lips when the man lowered the lid quietly over the plate once more. He gave her a warning look, one intended to silence any words that might have flown from her mouth.

She studied his face, searching for some sign of possible threat from him, but found only an earnest expression of determination. With a slight nod, she slipped her hand under the cover, removed the gun and hid it under her napkin. She did the same with each of the clips, wrapping the three items in the cloth. She covered the package with the folds of her nightgown while the butler shielded her, presumably from hidden cameras, with his body.

When Lorette looked as if she might question what was happening, Camille sent her a warning glance. Once satisfied with how she had hidden the weapon, Olaf stepped away from Camille, walking to the exit. He left the women alone, locking the door quietly behind him.

***

"Uh, Pavli..." Brick said, his voice uneasy. 

Roused from his doze in the seat next to the goliath, Niko was instantly alert. The bright azure blue of the sky greeted him through the cockpit window. It took a moment for him to see what it was that had Brick on edge.

There was an aircraft off the starboard wing. Craning his neck, he could see another off the port wing. 

"Just take it easy, Brick," Niko said. "You didn't expect to just land on the base without a military escort, did you?"

"I don't like it," Brick growled. "We're out-gunned."

"All we have to do is bring it in according to Hansen's directions."

They'd only been in the air for a half hour after leaving Illinois when Niko had radioed Hansen. Without a secure connection, Niko had spoken in code, hoping that the colonel would get the full picture of what he needed. 

"I guess that proves the base is actually here," Brick growled, pulling back on the throttle.

Ignoring him, Niko turned to check on the passengers in the back. Bob Phelps glowered at him, his hands still shackled with his own handcuffs. Olan smirked, his fingers clutched around the grip of the gun in his lap. 

Turning back to the front, Niko tried to catch a glimpse of the airfield he knew was below. Carved from the Alaskan wilderness, the base was one of the military's best-kept secrets, a place so covert that it didn't have a name. 

"How much do you trust this colonel friend of yours," Brick asked for the fourth time since changing course for Alaska.

"With my life," Niko answered absently. "Stick to the flight plan and everything will be all right."

"I should have my head examined for letting you talk me into this shit, Pavli. I could be back on my mountain--"

"Staring at the walls and listening to that mangy wolf growl," Niko said, cutting him off. "Don't worry, Brick. You'll be well-compensated. Now shut up and land this thing."

Brick grunted his disdain, reducing altitude while watching his escort closely. Niko understood his edginess. There was little question that the two F-18's would shoot them down if they altered their course. One mistake and they would be a flaming memory.

The passengers were tossed in their seats as Brick set the Cessna down with his usual grace. Bob yelped when he conked his head on the window. Niko would have found some small satisfaction in the man's pain if not for the anxiety that grew with each passing moment. He only hoped that Hansen would come through for him.

All four passengers were escorted from their craft at gun point, herded into a nearby tin shack and left to await their fate. Armed guards were posted at both entries, leaving little doubt that they were all now in custody.

"Christ, Niko," a voice bellowed when the door flew open minutes later. "You better have a good explanation for your actions. There's a firing squad with your name on it."

"Colonel," Niko said, coming to attention. "Thank you for meeting us."

"Dispense with the formalities, agent," Colonel Hansen barked. "You're in shit up to your neck. The whole fucking country's out looking for you."

"I know," Niko replied, clenching his fists impatiently. "I wish I had time for explanations, but time is the one thing we don't have. We know where Oleander is."

"You better make time. I'm not scrambling an entire squadron on the word of a rogue operative. What's going on?"

"Squadron? Damn it, Hansen, we need more support than that. Oleander has an entire army at his disposal. Get on the horn. We need naval--"

"Niko, I can appreciate your sense of urgency, but I'm not going to authorize a full-scale operation because you got your wife in trouble. I expect a full debriefing."

"Christ," Niko hissed, dragging his hand through his hair. "They came for her, Colonel. They're trying to draw me out."

"Colonel, if I may," Olan said. "What Niko says is true. We know where to find this Oleander."

Having heard enough, Brick stalked toward the man in charge, looking as if he were ready to break someone. 

"I'm through," he said. "Let me the fuck out of here. I've had enough."

"You'd be Marion Brickler," Hansen stated. "What's your part in all this?"

"I ain't got nothing to do with it. Pavli strong-armed me into helping, that's all. I'm done. I gotta get back to Rafe."

"Who's Rafe?" Hansen asked, eyeing Brick's size and wondering how anyone could strong-arm him into anything.

"That fucking wolf will handle his own," Niko shouted.

"Gentlemen," Bob Phelps interjected.

"Who the hell are you?" Hansen demanded.

"Enough!" Olan yelled. "Listen, Colonel. Years of agency work, hundreds of lives lost, will be worth nothing unless we move now. Oleander is holed up on an island. If we strike now, he won't be expecting it. Word gets out that we've been in contact with you and all's lost."

"All right, Jeffreys," Hansen said, folding his arms across his chest, "you seem to be the voice of reason here. Suppose you tell me what's going on and just where you and your partner have been the past couple of weeks."

Olan gave Hansen the abridged version of the events that had brought the small group to the base, leaving out more than a few details that he felt were unnecessary. Niko was reduced to pacing nervously while Brick and Bob glowered at him. 

Finally, after Olan finished, Hansen took a moment to digest everything. Without uttering a word to the others, he left the shack. Niko grinned at his partner.

"Looks like we're in business," he said.

"What makes you so sure?" Brick demanded. "For all we know, he's gone off to order our last meal."

"Nope," Olan answered. "He left with his game face on. He's ordering the strike."

"Well, Phelps," Niko said, smirking, "looks like you're going to get that chance to prove yourself. Ever been in combat?"

"Do me a favor, Niko. When this is all over, go fuck yourself," Bob said.

The door opened again, admitting two large men in fatigues. They had shouldered their weapons, but looked no less threatening. The men escorted the four captives to another building where they were outfitted before being loaded onto one of the UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters that would take their small force to a waiting vessel at sea. The lengthy flight delivered them to the aircraft carrier, the USS Abraham Lincoln, which was well underway to Oleander's island. With the additional personnel aboard the ship and the other vessels in her flotilla, it looked as if they were going to war.

That's exactly what they were doing, Niko reminded himself as the helicopter settled on the deck. Brick looked as if he wanted to jump overboard when he left the aircraft, glancing around with his hand clutching the knife at his hip. Phelps, with his hands now free from the cuffs, was led away by two sailors, leaving Niko and Olan to contend with the increasingly agitated giant.

"What the fuck am I doing here?" Brick muttered to himself. 

"Steady, big guy," Olan said. "Just pretend you're back in your military days on maneuvers. With any luck, we'll all get out of this with our balls intact."

"Shut the fuck up," Brick growled over the wind that buffeted them. 

"Knock it off, both of you," Niko commanded. 

A man in black fatigues approached them, saluting smartly as he snapped to attention. He led them to the captain's quarters where Colonel Hansen was already mapping a battle plan. Air reconnaissance was in route to the island strong hold. They awaited photos and reports of the flight crew's findings.

As they discussed scenarios, Brick paced like a caged tiger. Niko kept one eye on him while listening with growing alarm to what they military was planning. Finally unable to stand anymore, he broke into their discussion.

"You can't just go in there and bomb the hell out of them," he growled. "Camille would be the first to die."

"It's regrettable," Hansen said slowly, "but we have to make sure we stop Oleander, Niko. You know that. There's more at stake than one woman's life."

"She isn't just a woman," Niko said, a low hint of danger in his voice. "She's my wife! I mean to get her out of there."

"Out of the question," another man said, stepping into the room. 

Hansen offered a quick salute before introducing the man to Niko, Olan and Brick.

"This is Admiral Jameson, gentlemen," he said. "He's in charge of this operation."

"I don't give a fuck if the President is in charge," Niko yelled. "I want my wife out of there before the first shot is fired."

"That would be counter-productive," Jameson said in a clipped, business-like tone. "Let's just keep our minds on the objective, shall we?"

"The objective," Niko countered, "is to get Camille out alive, goddammit. If not for her, you wouldn't even have this operation. She's a civilian, for Christ's sake."

"I've been well-briefed on how she was put in harm's way, Pavli," Jameson said. "That's what happens when you let your johnson do your thinking for you."

Olan and Brick both got to Niko at the same time, taking his arms before he had a chance to pound the good admiral into oblivion. As big as Brick was, he had a time trying to keep the snarling Niko under control, even with Olan's help. 

It was Hansen who stepped up to take control of the situation, admonishing the admiral with a look and silencing Niko. 

"Enough," he said, placing a hand on Niko's shoulder. "From what you've told me, Camille is a smart woman. She'll look after herself."

"Just give me two men and a head start," Niko said. "That's all I ask."

Hansen turned to look at Jameson, the latter offering a curt nod in response. Hansen barked orders at a soldier by the door, waiting for him to exit before facing Niko again.

"You'll have one hour once you hit land – no more than that. You understand?"

"Yeah," Niko replied. 

"I'm sending a couple of SEALs with you-" Hansen began, only to be cut short by Olan.

"Hey, just a minute, pal," Olan said, stepping in front of Niko. "You're not figuring on leaving me out of this, are you?"

"I didn't want to speak for you, partner. You already took one bullet in this mess."

"And I lived. We started out together. We finish this together."

"Ah, hell," Brick growled from the other side of the room. "I'm in, too. You ain't leavin' me here with a bunch of pantywaist sailors. Besides, I wanna meet this wife of yours. She's gotta be a hell of a woman."

With a grim expression, Niko shook each man's hand in turn, his voice gruff to mask his emotions.

"You know I'll never forget it."

"Sirs," a young army captain said from the doorway. "Air reconnaissance is sending back photos. The satellite's in position now, too."

The men adjourned to the bridge where they finished their battle plans. The entire flotilla became a flurry of activity as the vessels were readied for the mission ahead. It would be at least another ten hours before they reached their objective, so Olan suggested to his partners that they all try to get some sleep. The night ahead would be a long one.

***

"Did you get any sleep?" Camille asked softly as she carefully pushed herself to her feet.

The two women had lain together on the bed, each trying to get much-needed rest as the late afternoon faded into evening. Camille's body ached in protest of each movement, her limbs stiff and her injured skin drawing tight. 

"A little," Lorette whispered. "I'm so tired, Camille. I don't want to do this anymore. They're never going to let us out of here, are they?"

Camille felt a pang of anger at everything the poor woman had been through. If Oleander had not lopped off his family jewels himself, she would be very tempted to remove them with her own hands. 

"No," Camille told her. "They have no intention of letting us go. That's why we have to be ready. The first time they slip up, you and I are out of here."

"How?" Lorette whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "How can we possibly escape? Even if we managed to get out of here, there's still an ocean full of sharks to deal with. We're going to die here."

"No, we're not," Camille snarled. "I have no intention of giving them the satisfaction. Just stay close to me, no matter what. When we get our chance, we'll run. If I know that husband of mine, he's probably on his way right now. He can be a nasty son-of-a-bitch. He'll come up with something."

"What if he can't find us?"

"He'll be here," Camille said with more conviction than she felt. "If not, we'll just have to find our own way out."

Glancing out the window, Lorette noticed the sliver of moon, already high in the sky. With a frown, she moved closer. 

"I wonder what time it is," she said. 

"Probably well past dinner time," Camille said. "I wonder where Olaf is. Seems to me he'd have brought some food by now."

"You hungry? How can you even think of food?"

"Yes, I'm hungry. Besides, we need to keep our strength up."

"I don't see how you have any strength left after what they did to you. You should be resting, not pacing the floor."

Camille stopped in mid-step, turning to give Lorette a pained smile. Reaching her arms up, she stretched her body slowly.

"Gotta loosen my muscles up. I'm stiff as a starched shirt."

"I still say you should be resting..."

Lorette fell silent at the sound of the lock turning in the door. Olaf entered bearing a tray draped in white cloth. He set the tray on the table, lifting the cloth to reveal sandwiches for the women. There was a strange light in his eyes when he lifted his gaze to Camille's face. Then he was gone.

"He gives me the creeps," Lorette whispered.

"Me, too," Camille admitted as she snatched a sandwich from the tray. 

The sound of clinking metal caught her attention. There, on the plate where her sandwich had been, lay a single brass key. Before Lorette had a chance to see it, she snatched it up and stuffed it into a pocket. It seemed almost too convenient for the silent man to give her a key to the very door that held them prisoner.

She chewed on a bite of food, thinking about the strange, silent butler. He had given her a gun and now a key. It was almost as if he wanted her to try to escape. Was it a trap? Shaking her head, she stepped to the window, gazing through the glass and bars to the night beyond. 

Far below on the ground, she could see men walking, making their rounds as they guarded Oleanders expansive home. Using the key to get out would serve no purpose. If by some miracle the women managed to get outside, they'd still have to contend with the guards, and then there was the matter of the ocean that surrounded the island. 

"What are you thinking, Camille?" Lorette asked.

"I'm thinking of getting out. Lorette, you have to believe. We'll get out of here somehow."

***

There wasn't much light cast by the moon. Three men, their faces set in grim lines, crouched together next to an out-cropping of rock on an expansive, sandy beach. They were armed with a small knowledge of the terrain—thanks to satellite imagery and air reconnaissance—but little else other than the weapons at hand. 

"I hope you got a plan, Pavli."

Brick's harsh whisper tore the air like a scream in the night. Olan winced visibly, once more checking the area with his night-vision goggles. Niko, for his part, looked completely unflustered. 

"Yeah," Niko said. "I'm going in the front door."

"Have you lost your mind?" Olan asked, incredulous. "You won't even get to the door before they cut you down."

"How much time we got left?" Niko asked.

"Fifty-six minutes and counting."

"It's now or never," Niko said. He checked his weapon once more, then patted the small canvass bag he carried under his arm. "Ready?"

"No," the other two men said in unison. 

"I'm going to circle around to the front. You guys run interference and stay back. I don't want them to know you're here."

"This is suicide," Olan muttered.

"We're wasting time," Niko retorted as he dodged to the shadow of the trees up ahead. 

Brick growled before following. Olan charged after them, saying a silent prayer to any patron saint that might be listening. He had the feeling this would be the last time he saw his partner alive.

Brick had a nose for traps. He found the trip wires and landmines that littered the sparse path under them. There were cameras, too, but they managed to keep out of sight. Before long, they were hiding in the shadows of a clearing that surrounded a massive building. 

"Jesus," Olan whispered. "You could fit half the Pentagon in that thing."

"Looks like a castle," Brick said. "All that's missing is the moat and fire-breathing dragons."

The three shrank farther back when two guards drew near. Not far behind them was another set of guards, following the same path. Olan counted no less than ten men in the towers that surrounded the building and at least eight more on the ground. 




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 12



"Here's how we play it," Niko whispered when the guards were out of earshot. "I'm going to walk straight up to the door. You two hang back and wait for reinforcements. As soon as Hansen gives the signal, try to take out as many of the patrol as you can before all hell breaks loose."

"That's your plan?" Brick growled. 

"I don't like it," Olan said.

"Got any better ideas?"

"Yeah. We get the hell out of here," Brick muttered.

"Niko," said Olan. "You'll never make it. Those bastards will shoot you on sight."

"I doubt it," Niko returned. "Oleander wants me alive. He's got plans for me. When he gets his hands on this little box," he patted the bag again, "he's going to want answers."

"He's going to want to cut you to shreds, you mean."

"I'll take that chance. Partner, if I don't make it, get Camille out of here. Make sure she's safe."

Olan nodded, knowing that the chances of any of them making it out alive were slim. He held his tongue, deciding it would be better not to point out the obvious. Niko slapped his shoulder before darting into the open clearing. 

He made it halfway across before a shot was fired. Brick and Olan watched helplessly as Niko was set upon by what appeared to be half a platoon of armed men. There was nothing they could do.

***

"Something's happening," Camille whispered as she pressed her face to the glass of the window.

"What?" Lorette asked as she joined Camille. 

Both women watched as bright search lights flashed on. Men far below were all running, most of them in the same direction. Something had raised the alarm. 

"I don't know, but whatever it is, it can't be good. Remember, stay close to me, Lorette."

They continued to watch the scene on the ground, but from their limited viewpoint, they really couldn't tell what was happening. They couldn't hear anything from this distance. Frustrated, Camille began to pace, reaching into her pocket every so often to touch the key. It was a strange item, not shaped like any key she'd seen before. It had to fit a very unusual lock, which left out the door to their room. 

There were footsteps in the hall. It sounded like many people running in panic all at once. Checking to see that Lorette was still watching the people outside, Camille quietly opened the wardrobe where they stored their few items of clothing. 

"Put your shoes on," Camille said as she tossed a pair at Lorette.

Both women had not bothered to put shoes on during their endless confinement of the last few days. It had been a choice for comfort, but at this point, it would be best to be prepared. As Lorette bent to slide the shoes over her slender feet, Camille pulled the hidden handgun from her pair of black flats. She slipped it into one pocket of her dress and the clips into the other one while simultaneously leaning into the wardrobe and jamming her feet into the shoes. 

The effort cost her. Her raw flesh scraped painfully against the fabric of her dress, causing her to wince. She bit her lower lip to stifle the moan and did her best to ignore the discomfort. She had to be ready.

Ready for what, she had no idea. It seemed to take forever to find out. After an indeterminate amount of time, the door swung open to reveal Alma and Olaf.

"Come on," she said, waving a hand at Camille. "The man wants you."

Camille took Lorette's hand, pulling her along. 

"Just you," Alma said.

"I'm not going anywhere without her, so you can get that through your thick head right now. She comes with me, or you'll have a fight on your hands."

The woman seemed to consider this for a few moments before shrugging her shoulders. She stepped back from the door to allow the women to pass.

"What do I care? You want the simpleton to watch what happens, that's your business."

Olaf led the way to the elevator, stepping back to let women enter first. Alma stayed behind, a smirk on her lovely, cold face. She looked a little too smug for Camille's comfort. 

The doors closed after Olaf entered. Camille draped an arm about Lorette, hoping to give the quivering woman some much-needed strength. Olaf gave her a meaningful stare, capturing Camille's full attention. A sound came from the man, a hum of tuneless dimensions that seemed to make little sense. His voice sounded like a rusty hinge, attesting to its lack of use. 

He repeated the sounds, still holding Camille's gaze with his own. A pattern emerged, the sounds stringing together to almost create a phrase. She could only frown in confusion, but listened intently. She recognized from his expression he was imparting something important. Finally, she hummed the phrase with him.

Olaf seemed satisfied as he turned to push a button on the elevator. He didn't look at either woman again until the lift came to a stop. He gave Camille a stern expression just as the doors opened. She nodded and stepped through, allowing him to lead them to a room where he locked them in again.

"What's going to happen now?" Lorette whispered.

Camille felt real pity for her. The poor woman had been through so much. Fear and uncertainty had become a way of life for her. But Camille wasn't in much better shape. It was all she could do to remain calm and keep her mind working.

A few moments later, they heard voices outside the door. One was Alma's, the other belonged to Gerhardt. Gerhardt sounded enraged, while Alma's voice was cajoling, as if trying to calm him down. Though it was difficult to make out all that was being said, it was obvious that their discussion was connected to whatever had triggered the activity outside the building. The volume of the voices rose and dropped, but even with her ear pressed to the door, Camille could understand little of it.

After they went away, Camille turned to Lorette with a small smile. "Niko's here," she said simply.

"How do you know?"

"Only Niko can cause such a commotion or make people that mad. He's here. Stay close, Lorette. When the time comes, be ready to run."

It wasn't long before two men entered the room to drag Camille out. She fought hard, wrapping her arms around Lorette and refusing to let go. In the end, they took both women to their new destination.

They entered Oleander's immense study. Lorette let out a cry when she was separated from Camille and held in the iron grip of one guard. The other pulled Camille back against him, holding the blade of a knife up in front of her face while his arm encircled her neck to hold her fast.

"Let her go."

The low, menacing voice pulled Camille's attention from the glittering blade. Her heart skipped more than one beat when she looked into the face of her husband. He didn't look directly at her, but at the man who held all the strings behind the giant desk.

"She's got nothing to do with this, Oleander. Let her go."

"Ah, but I'm afraid I can't do that, Mr. Pavli. I'm a patient man, but my patience is wearing thin. You have something of mine and I want it back."

Oleander's voice was more cold than usual. All pretense of congenial host was dropped revealing the soulless man who demanded total obedience. When he stepped from behind the desk to face Camille, a cold shudder of revulsion coursed down her spine.

"My dear," he said without a trace of emotion. "Your husband has proved to be very uncooperative." He held up a gray metal box for her to see. "All that I ask is that my property be returned and instead he brought this obvious replica. What do you think I should do to convince him?"

Camille only glared at him. She had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of an answer.

"Cat got your tongue?" Oleander said. "No matter. I'm sure we can convince your husband to divulge his secrets."

He nodded at someone behind her. Within moments, Olaf opened the door to the study, admitting Emil Gerhardt. The ruined visage that glared at her nearly caused her stomach to rebel. The carved side of his face had scabbed over, looking worse than when Oleander had done it. It was his eyes, though, that nearly pushed her over the edge. Never had she seen such hatred as that which this man aimed at her.

"I will ask you one more time, Mr. Pavli," Oleander said. "Your failure to answer this time will result in Mr. Gerhardt having his way with your wife. Be assured that it will be anything but pleasant. Now, where is my hard drive?"

Camille looked at Niko's face; saw the pain and the rage he kept so tightly controlled. She knew he would not tell Oleander anything. She finally understood why Niko had been trying so hard to protect her, what it was that kept him on the run. No matter what he did, no matter what he gave Oleander, the man was still going to kill them both. There was no way to stop him and he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

Gerhardt took a step closer. He was actually salivating at the prospect of causing her pain and death. She could see it in his eyes—and in the drool that seeped from the corner of his mouth. 

"Keep your hands off my wife," Niko ground out.

Camille glanced over to see her husband advancing. The two men that flanked him grabbed his arms, pulling him back as Gerhardt reached out wrap his fist in her hair. He wrenched her head back and to the side, his mouth descending to grind harshly against hers. She barely heard Niko's roar over the rush of blood in her ears. Her hand stole into her pocket, clutching the grip of the handgun Olaf had given her. If she was meant to die, it would be under her own terms.

The next sound she heard was strange. It started out as a long, keening whistle. It seemed muffled, as if coming from a great distance. Then the world began to shudder, the very air around them trembling. If not for the two men holding her, she would have crashed to the floor.

Then all was chaos. No Fourth of July fireworks display had ever prepared her for the violence of this explosion. Clouds of smoke and dust filled the air as chunks of debris rained down on her head. She dropped to the floor before she realized she was free.

In the next instant, she was on her feet, choking on the foul air while she tried to find Niko and Lorette. She couldn't see her hand in front of her face. Someone grabbed her arm, the grip too strong for her to fight, but fight she did. It was only after he got her arms pinned to her sides that she saw the white gloves on the hands. It was Olaf. 

"Where's Niko?" she asked, but the butler only stared at her.

"Lorette?"

He pointed the way, leading her to where he'd seen the other woman fall. Voices were screaming all around—some in pain and anguish, others in pure rage. Men seemed to appear from nowhere, bumping into her, nearly toppling her in their haste to reach safety. There was another explosion, this one farther away, that shook the mansion to its rafters once more. Chunks of brick and mortar made hissing sounds as they flew past.

Finally, Camille could see Lorette. She was curled in a ball on the floor, her arms encasing her head in an effort to protect it. 

"Get up!" Camille screamed, tugging on the girl's arm. "We have to get out of here now."

Lorette stumbled to her feet, her hand clenched tightly around Camille's. Prying her fingers loose, Camille shoved Lorette at Olaf, turning, then, to search for Niko. 

"Camille!"

That one lone cry showed her the way. As more explosions tore through the building, she managed to find her husband, to feel his arms close about her. For the briefest of moments, all sound ceased to exist. His heart beat against her cheek, his scent filled her nostrils. 

"Camille," Lorette yelled over the din. "We gotta run."

The next explosion was too close, sending them all sprawling in the rubble. Niko was the first to his feet, pulling his wife up along side. As he began to drag her toward what he thought was safety, she stopped him.

"We have to take Lorette and Olaf," she shouted over the din. 

"My dad," Lorette said. "I have to find him."

"Who are these people?" Niko yelled back. "There's no time. We leave now."

Lorette was already heading back into the rubble of the building with Camille on her heels. Niko let loose a stream of Greek curses designed to bring her up short, but she only grabbed his hand to drag him along. 

"Damn it, Camille," he yelled. "This whole place is coming down."

"I promised to help her," Camille yelled back.

Olaf was at the front, leading the way deeper into the house. A man with a gun stepped into his path. Quick as a flash, the silent butler grabbed the man's head and snapped his neck. Glancing back at the women, he stepped over the body to continue along his path.

"Who is that guy?" Niko demanded. 

"He's a friend," was all Camille said as she followed.

"Pavli," a voice called out.

Niko rounded, ready to fight whoever was behind them. Camille turned to see a man of such gigantic proportions she had to stop and gape.  He was beyond enormous, dwarfing even the immense size of the stone-lined hallway in which they stood as well as the enormous weapons he carried. If she hadn't been so shocked, she might have had the presence of mind to be scared.

"Brick," Niko yelled back. "Where you hiding Olan?"

"Ground troops are on the way," Olan said.

To Camille's relief, Niko's partner stepped out from behind the behemoth. She wanted to hug the very breath from his lungs. Before she could voice her relief, they heard shouting coming from a room ahead. Olaf waved everyone back against the wall as he peered around the corner. He turned back to give Camille a meaningful look before sidling into the room.

Camille distinctly heard Oleander's voice, as well as that of Emil Gerhardt and several others. There was another series of small explosions at the front of the house. It sounded like a battle scene from a Vietnam War movie. Lorette put a hand over her own mouth to stifle a scream at the sound of gunshots in the room.

"Olaf," Camille said softly.

"Who's Olaf?" Niko demanded.

"He saved my life," she said. "We have to help him."

She pulled the small gun from her dress pocket and fumbled with the loaded clip. Niko, one brow cocked, took the weapon from her, loaded it and handed it back to her. 

"Don't be afraid to use it," he said.

"I won't."

She dashed forward only to be stopped by Niko. 

"Where are you going?"

"To help him. Oleander will kill him."

"Stay put," Niko ordered, waving to the men behind. "Let's get him, boys,"

The three men charged into the room in a volley of gunfire, leaving the two women behind to worry about their fate. 

"This is bullshit," Camille announced. She moved in front of Lorette and edged her way to the door. "Stay behind me."

The sounds of explosions and gunfire to the rear were getting louder, the battle drawing closer. Lorette made no sound, but Camille could feel her shaking in fear. Soon there would be no place left to hide.

She heard more shots in the room, peeking around the corner to see that Niko and his men were pinned behind an over-turned table. Oleander was behind a pillar, his gun drawing a bead on a bleeding Olaf. Camille fired first. 

She missed Oleander's skull by mere inches, the bullet lodging in the wood of the pillar. It was enough to draw the creature's attention as he turned the gun on her. She ducked back behind the doorway, panting in fear. Another volley of shots rang out. 

When she chanced a glance again, Olaf was on his feet; his large frame heaving while he stumbled toward Oleander's hiding spot. At that moment, Gerhardt stepped from behind a large file cabinet to take aim. In one shot, the silent butler lay on the ground, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

Camille let out a cry, pulling herself back behind the wall.

"What happened?" Lorette asked. 

"Olaf. He killed Olaf."

There was another explosion—this one too close—that had the women dropping to the floor. More shots were fired inside the room. Camille was in a crouched position, the gun clutched in her sweating hand, with Lorette clinging to her dress. 

"I can't stand this," Camille said.

Shaking Lorette's hand loose, she duck-walked forward to get a better look. Three hired guns still had Niko and the others trapped, while Gerhardt was making his way around behind them. Oleander remained in his hiding place, allowing his mercenaries to do his dirty work. The man looked positively unruffled. 

She took a shot at Oleander, then dashed across the doorway to get behind the other wall. Now standing at her full height, she had a better view of the snake that intended to kill her husband. He was almost in position. His weapon was raised; his eyes alight with a vicious gleam while shots rang out between Niko's side and those that had them pinned.

"No!" she screamed as she stepped from cover. 

She fired several shots, even after Gerhardt fell. Another explosion sent chunks of brick and mortar crumbling down, forcing her to duck and cover. A round of gunfire burst around her in a deafening cacophony. When the smoke cleared, it was Niko's hand that lifted her to her feet.

"What the hell were you doing?" he yelled.

She was shaken, her eyes wild with fear. Running her hands over his body, she looked for any sign of blood. When she saw that he was in one piece, she threw her arms about him.

"I thought he was going to kill you."

"Damn it, woman. If I need you to fight my battles--"

"Your battles?" she screamed as she stepped back. "Where the hell do you think I've been all this time? This isn't just your battle anymore."

She stopped, glancing across the room at the bodies strewn about. When she located Gerhardt's, she shuddered in revulsion. 

"I told him I'd kill him," she said softly. "I told him I'd do it for ever touching me."

Niko pulled her close, feeling her wince when he hugged her tight. He loosened his grip, took a long look at her.

"Is he the one who did this to you?"

She could see the rage and the pain in his eyes. She knew she looked horrible, her face and body battered. All she could do was nod.

"Poor Olaf," she murmured. "He saved me."

"I owe him a debt I can never repay," Niko said.

"Niko," Olan called out. "Brick's hit."

"Oleander?" he yelled back.

"Out that door there," Olan said, pointing to a back entrance. "The son-of-a-bitch wasn't even touched."

"Lorette," Camille said, suddenly remembering the other woman. 

She found Lorette in fetal position once more, covered in bits of rubble and dust. She pulled her to her feet and through the door. Another round of gunfire sounded from down the hall. This time it seemed that fewer shots were returned.

"It's World War three out there," Lorette muttered.

"Camille," Niko called out. "Brick's hit in the chest. Can you help him?"

She rushed to comply with Lorette still attached to her arm. Both women dropped to the floor beside the fallen man. Lorette let out a startled cry at the amount of blood pouring from the gaping wound. Without hesitation, the woman tore the man's shirt open, using a piece of it to stem the flow of blood.

"I must be dying," the big man growled, "because you sure look like an angel."



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 13



A Cloak of Lies

"I won't let you die," the angel said.

Brick grunted as she applied more pressure. He thought he could stand any pain as long as he could look into her eyes. They were the greenest he'd ever seen. A tumble of red-gold curls brushed his face as she worked to stem the flow of blood. The hair felt like warm silk against his skin. Never had he seen anyone like her.

"I'm sorry if this hurts," she said in a voice as wispy as a summer breeze. 

"I been hurt worse," he said. 

"We need to find my father. He'll know what to do," she said. 

"We'll find him, Lorette," another female voice said.

The other woman was tearing up what looked to be part of her dress, handing the pieces to the angel, Lorette, to add to the compress. Must be Pavli's woman hell of a woman.

"Can he stand?" Niko asked.

"Only if you want to kill him," Camille snapped. "In case you haven't noticed, he's got a hole in his chest."

There was another explosion and part of a wall came down.

"It won't matter much if we don't get him out of here," Olan said, reaching for the giant. "On your feet, Marion."

"Don't call me that," Brick growled, grunting against the pain.

"Gently," the angel said. "He's hurt."

"Hell, it'd take more than a bullet to kill this monster," Olan said with a laugh. "He's too mean to die." Olan supported him on one side, making a big show of wheezing and gasping. "Christ, Brick, you reek." 

"You're making me look bad in front of the ladies," Brick growled back. 

The sweet angel was smiling at him, her sea-green eyes sparkling as she took up position at his other side. He let her drape his arm around her shoulders as he took his first few steps. She was delicate, almost miniscule under his arm—so much so he refused to put any weight on her. The scent of her filled his nostrils and his mind. If he lived through the night, he'd never forget this moment.

A bullet whizzed past, prompting a round of unintelligible words from the Greek who got him into this mess. 

"This way," Niko said, leading the way back to the large hall. 

"Where we going?" Olan asked, still gagging on the stench.

"Out," was all Niko said.

"But my dad..."

The angel at Brick's side looked horrified. Her eyes were pleading, begging Niko for help.

"We have to get out of here, lady," Niko said.

"I say we find her dad."

All eyes turned to Brick. To be truthful, he was as surprised as they were that he said it. He was never one to stick his nose in the affairs of others, but if he'd been willing to risk his life for Niko, he by-God was willing to do it for this beauty at his side.

"You can't," she said. "You're hurt."

"This?" he said, laughing. "This ain't nothin'. I just let you help me because I like the way you feel under my arm."

He let go then. Shoving Olan aside, he pulled a gun from the back of his waistband and gave it a quick check. His chest burned with the very fires of hell and he was so thirsty he could barely swallow, but this child-like woman at his side was looking at him with gratitude. No, it was more than gratitude. It was open admiration. 

"I'm getting my wife out of here," Niko yelled.

"Niko," the other woman said, "I promised her. I'll explain it all to you later, but right now we have to help. I owe her that much."

Brick almost laughed out loud when Niko cursed, then capitulated. He thought the man a weak fool for going to all this trouble over a woman. The only thing that kept the laughter in check was a pair of bright green eyes that smiled so sweetly. He was starting to understand Pavli's need to keep his wife happy.

"Which way?" Niko growled.

"We have to go down," the angel said. "They keep him in the lab downstairs. I hope he's still there."

"We'll find him, honey," the other woman said. "You sure you're okay?"

It took a moment for Brick to realize she had directed her question at him. He grunted and waved her on, stopping only to make sure the angel was where he could keep an eye on her—and keep her safe when the time came. There was something about her, a gentleness that he'd never known. Most women looked on him with fear, but this one had no problem meeting his eyes. She showed real concern for him, stopping every few minutes to check the amount of blood on his bandage. 

Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind. He didn't have time to think about the petal soft fingers that touched him from time to time, or the way her curls danced around her face like a hundred butterflies. He had to stop looking at the light in her eyes and the dimple on the left side of her mouth that showed when she smiled. Focus, he told himself.

She pointed the way, leading them to a ruined elevator. He wanted to take her hands in his when she began to wring them together in worry. She looked around trying to find some other way.

"Staircase?" he asked, catching her eye.

"I don't know," she answered meekly. "I only saw the elevator the two times they took me to my father. The rest of the time they kept me...locked up."

Her last words were accompanied by a shudder. He had to wonder what they'd done to her while she was "locked up". The disgust on her face was evidence enough that it hadn't been pleasant. 

"Over here," Olan said. 

Niko was the first to reach the indicated door. Brick shambled up behind them to peer through a small window in the steel door. On the other side was a narrow stairway, which led both up and down. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back and told the others to get out of the way.

He tried the knob, found it unlocked. One more glance through the glass showed the way was clear. The sound of gunfire coming up behind them forced him to make his move. He tossed open the door and stepped through, ushering the others in behind him.

"Down, you say?" he asked the angel.

She nodded, biting her lower lip. He stifled a groan as he watched her little teeth chew on the mouth-watering morsel, and tore his eyes away to put his foot on the first step.

"Let me lead," Niko said. "I can move faster. Olan, you take up the rear, girls and Brick between us."

"I got your 'girl' right here," Pavli's woman said with a snarl. To Brick, she seemed like a real hellcat and a lot more trouble than she was worth.

Niko shot her a grin, grabbed her around the middle and planted a hard kiss on her mouth. When he let her go, she almost fell backwards. That'll shut her up, Brick thought.

Niko took the steps slowly, stopping to check around every corner. Behind them the sounds of battle were drawing ever nearer, making Brick wish the dumb Greek would shake a leg. 

"I think this is the level," the angel said timidly. "There's a hallway and then an armored door."

Brick shoved her behind him when Niko opened the door. He intended to shield her from whatever was out there. The battle rumbled overhead, sounding like a dangerous thunderstorm in his beloved mountains. He thought of what the angel would look like with the wind in her hair on his mountaintop.

A shot was fired and Niko yelled for everyone to get down. Olan was still behind them, ducking against the wall with his weapon held out. Niko rolled through the door, firing several shots. To her credit, his woman didn't scream once, only glanced through to make sure he was still alive.

When the coast was clear, they all stepped into the hallway to find three men dead and Niko tossing his empty gun aside before picking up another from one of the fallen.

"Is that the door?" Niko asked the angel.

She nodded. When she looked like she would make a run for it, Brick grabbed her delicate arm—carefully, so that her little bones wouldn't break. She gazed up at him, her eyes pleading, her mouth trembling.

"Don't worry, angel," he said, pulling her closer. "We'll get your pops out."

Again her expression of admiration and gratitude warmed his senses. She looked as if she might kiss him. 

"Stay close," he said after clearing his throat. 

She did just that, hanging onto a belt loop on the back of his pants. He could feel her warmth as she matched his steps. It was enough to drive him insane.

The door ahead looked to be of dense steel—probably several inches thick. He didn't see a lock anywhere, just a solid plate and a handle. Niko pulled on it, but to no avail. Olan walked past Brick to comb the walls on either side. He found a niche, a panel, which he slid upward. Behind it was a strange looking contraption.

"Well, this is a new one on me," Olan said, scratching his head. "Is this some sort of lock?"

"We can't shoot our way through," Niko said, still eyeing the door as he moved to where Olan stood. He looked at the thing in the wall and shook his head. "Looks like some kind of lock, all right."

"The key," Pavli's woman said, digging into her pocket. "This must be what it's for."

The woman was practically dancing when she ran up to the strange lock. She eyed the contraption, then the thing in her hand before lining one up with the other. It seemed to turn with little effort, making a loud, clicking sound. A larger panel opened to reveal something even stranger.

"Who the hell puts a piano in a wall?" Olan asked no one in particular.

"That's what Olaf was trying to tell us," Lorette said. Her voice quivered with excitement as she moved in front of the keys. "I never saw this before because the door was always open when they brought me here. But I don't remember how it goes. Do you, Camille?"

"Yes," Camille said. "I think so."

She hummed a strange series of notes before the angel joined in. Both women fairly giggled when the angel reached for the keyboard. She copied the notes flawlessly and, like magic, the heavy steel door started to open. 

Brick stumbled forward, grabbing his angel and shoving her behind him. He didn't know what was on the other side of the door, but he damn sure was not about to let anyone get at her.

***

The room was dark as they entered. Camille lost sight of Niko for a moment. With the scant light shining through the door, she could see the way the giant was hovering over Lorette. She also saw the way Lorette looked at him. It might have been a match made in heaven.

"Here's a switch," Olan said a moment before the lights flashed on. 

"Where's the lab?" Niko asked. 

All eyes turned to Lorette. The poor woman colored brightly, embarrassed and afraid. She looked around the barren room, spying three doors and choosing one. 

"Through there, I think," she said, pointing at the one to the left.

Niko questioned her on what the setting was like inside and what they could expect. She gave details right down to how many doors they could find and where the guards were usually stationed. 

"Is that everything?" he asked.

She nodded, watching as the three men stepped forward and told the women to stay put. Her hand reached out; touching the giant they called Brick on the arm.

"Be careful," she whispered.

He patted her hand and offered her a careless smile meant to reassure. Pushing her back against the wall on one side of the door, the big man told her to keep hidden before adjusting the makeshift bandage on his chest. He was in the kind of pain that would bring a lesser man down, but he hid it behind casual stance and a bawdy wink.

Camille reached for Niko, told him to watch himself before taking a position on the other side of the door. It was Brick who led the charge, nearly tearing the door from its hinges when he stormed through. A barrage of gunfire erupted, causing Lorette to scream and drop to a crouched position. 

Camille was not so inclined to duck and cover. Her mind raced with the possibility of losing Niko again—this time for real. Pulling her gun from her pocket once more, she peeked around the corner to see him lying motionless on the floor. Just as she was ready to dash in, two men ran out. One seized Lorette, holding a gun to her head as he backed toward the far door. The other came at Camille, only to drop to the floor when she shot him in the face.

The man holding Lorette was none other than Rolf, the guard who had tormented her so badly in the filthy cell of Oleander's dungeon. Camille could see the terror in her eyes, the mindless fear that robbed her of her senses. She leveled the gun on the man, praying that she wouldn't need to pull the trigger.

"Drop the gun, bitch," the man snarled.

Camille held her ground, inching away from the door so that she could see anyone else that might run out. Her heart banged painfully against her ribs as her mind raced to keep up with everything that was happening. Rolf kept pace with her, his eyes never leaving her face as he once again ordered her to drop her gun. 

"I'll kill her," he said. His lips curled back in a sneer, his tongue snaking out to lick the side of Lorette's face. "Mmm...tastes like honey."

Lorette's body convulsed, her throat emitting a wretched whimper reminiscent of a wounded animal. Camille was about to give in when she heard a terrible roar that rattled her to the core. The big man blasted through the door like a shot from a cannon.  

In the split second before the collision, Rolf's expression changed to that of rabid fear. Then he disappeared beneath the thrashing body of the giant, his gun arm shattered by an enormous fist. Lorette was thrown clear to land in a heap against the far wall. There was a sickening crunch when Brick smashed Rolf's skull against the concrete floor.

With more agility than his frame should allow, Brick was on his feet, taking just a moment to get his wind and struggle against the pain in his chest. One look at the quivering body of Lorette, though, had him moving again. When he reached her, he plucked her from the floor as if she weighed nothing. 

She whimpered something, but Camille didn't stick around to hear it. She dashed through the door to where she had last seen her husband. Olan was on one knee beside him, pulling on his shoulder to turn him over. 

"Niko," she whispered, falling to her knees at his side.

Olan patted her on the arm, giving her a dry smile. "It's just a crease," he said. "He'll have a hell of a headache, but he'll live."

Niko stirred, slapping at Olan's arm. Camille saw the blood on the side of his head where a bullet had grazed his skull. She did a quick, but thorough check of the rest of him to make sure there were no holes. Satisfied, she returned her attention to his head wound. 

"Can you hear me?" she asked.

"On your feet, Pavli," Brick yelled from the doorway. "We ain't got time for your gold-bricking."

"Prick," Niko muttered as his eyes blinked open.

"Hey, I got a bullet in my chest, but you don't see me layin' around like a lazy dog. Get up."

"Please put me down," Lorette said softly.

The giant looked like he might refuse, but finally set her on her feet. He continued to hold her until she was steady, and even then looked reluctant to release her.

"Help me up," Niko said to Olan. 

It took a beat for Niko to find his footing, leading Camille to worry about a possible concussion. There wasn't time to think about it, though. Another explosion brought a chunk of ceiling down in the other room. 

"Which way, angel," Brick said.

"Here," she answered, leading them to another door.

The door was locked, but a control panel on the wall was easily accessible. She pushed several buttons until the large metal shutters along one wall opened to reveal a window to the next room. Inside was a room full of computers and laboratory equipment.

"Papa!"

Lorette was dancing in place, her face all smiles when she saw a gray-haired man through the glass. He looked tired and scared, but when he saw her, his face lit with a brilliant smile. 

"Everyone back," Brick said just before he hurled a chair through the glass. 

Lorette's father and two other men dove for cover. She screamed and tried to climb through the window but Brick pulled her back.

"Let's go," Niko yelled at the men in the lab. 

All three of them scrambled over. In the lead was Lorette's father. He grabbed his daughter in a fierce bear hug that left her gasping and in tears.

"My child," he crooned. "How...?"

"I'll be," Olan said. "You're Dr. Robert Shaffer. You remember, Niko. He's the NASA scientist that disappeared last year. He was supposed to have been killed in that house fire with his wife and daughter..."

Both Lorette and the good doctor embraced again, their faces registering the loss they'd suffered. Lorette whispered, "Mama," before dissolving in tears.

"Nice," Brick growled, giving Olan a shove.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Niko said to the Shaffers, "but if we don't get out of here, this whole place is going to come down on our heads."

"Quite right," Dr. Shaffer said, giving his daughter a pat. "Dry your eyes, my dear. There will be time for this later. Your mother wouldn't want you to come to anymore harm."

"Yes, Papa," Lorette said with a sniff. "I want to go home."

"Let's just worry about getting out of here first," Niko said. "Any ideas on how we get out of here, Olan?"

"Andrew," said Dr. Shaffer to one of the lab technicians, "go inside and destroy everything, just the way we planned."

The man named Andrew ran to do Shaffer's bidding. Within moments he returned, yelling for everyone to run. The entire party ran to the next room where they were forced to climb over piles of rubble to get to the only known exit. Before they made it out, there was an explosion in the lab, accompanied by a ball of fire that had them diving for cover.

"Sorry about that, everyone," Shaffer said as he climbed to his feet and brushed off his white lab coat. "Couldn't be helped. I won't let Oleander get his hands on our findings."

"Smart man," Niko muttered as he tried to open the jammed door. "Stuck."

"Out of my way," Brick growled.

He hurled his enormous frame against the door, nearly losing his footing when it gave under his assault. The next room was clear but for the bits of rubble that littered the floor. They made their way to the hallway and back to the stairway. As they climbed, the sounds of the battle above became louder. Then suddenly all was quiet. The little party of refugees froze in their tracks. The only sound was that of Brick's wheezing. Lorette let go of her father long enough to place a hand on the big man's arm and voice her concern.

"I'm all right," he said with a gruff voice. 

"We need to get him to a hospital," Lorette told Niko. "He's getting weaker."

Niko gave a curt nod before opening the door to the main floor. Taking Camille's hand, he stepped cautiously through, telling the others to follow. Olan brought up the rear, doing his best to support Brick.

"Don't fall now, big guy," Olan said. "No one here can carry your big ass."

Brick could only manage a grunt, stumbling forward as he tried to keep up. Lorette took his hand, pulling him gently along with her face a study of concern. Her father missed nothing, eyeing the giant with suspicion.

"Damn it, Pavli," a voice boomed from what was left of the end of the large hall. "We thought you were a goner. Good to see you in one piece."

A man in battle fatigues stood with a contingent of others surrounding him. He had the look of authority about him, leading Camille to believe he was the one in charge of the attack.

"Glad to be alive, Colonel," Niko said, pulling Camille close as he led the group to the military men. "How goes the day?"

"We took some casualties," the man said. "Looks like we took the island, too. Did you find this Oleander?"

With a shake of his head, Niko gave his wife a reassuring squeeze. 

"He got away. We gained a few bonuses, though. I'd like you to meet Dr. Robert Shaffer. Seems he and his daughter weren't killed. Oleander's been forcing him to continue some research project he had going. I'll let him tell you about it. Right now I just want to get my wife out of here. One of my men needs a doctor, too."




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 13



"It's good to meet you, Dr. Shaffer," the colonel said. "And your daughter. Mrs. Pavli, it's a real honor to meet you. You're the reason we were able to find this place. Heard a lot about you."

Camille nodded, shaking the colonel's hand. She was suddenly more exhausted than she'd ever been in her life. Things started to run together in a long blur: a stretcher was brought in and men groaned under the weight of the giant as they carried him out; Lorette crooned to him as she followed, the colonel took the scientist aside, barking orders to those around him; and Niko's arm never left her as he argued about finding her safe passage to some ship somewhere.

It was all too much. Her body throbbed with the aching wounds inflicted by the man she once thought she would marry. The fear of seeing her husband shot and the blood that still trickled down his face made her shudder. All the emotions she'd blocked since the beginning of the battle came bubbling to the surface, over-whelming her until there was nothing but darkness.

***

"Niko?"

She said his name into the darkness that surrounded her. A hand touched her face before a dim light flickered on. It took a minute to focus her eyes, but when she did, she saw his face.

"You had me scared, agapi."

She smiled, taking his hand in hers. How good it was to wake and find him alive, touching her, looking at her with love.

"What happened?" she asked.

"You fainted. It's no wonder. When we got you back to the ship and I saw all the...Did that bastard whip you?"

She nodded; frowning as memories came flooding back. With a moan, she stretched her aching limbs.

"I killed him, didn't I?" She felt the darkness of guilt and death that surrounded her.

"Yes, baby. Good thing for him, too. If he was still alive, I'd tear him to pieces."

"Is it over now?"

Niko didn't answer right away. He kissed her hand, holding it as if he would never let go.

"Oleander escaped," he said at last. "We don't know what he'll do, but I'm not taking any chances. We're staying underground."

"It's never going to end, is it? Where are the others?"

"It'll be over soon," Niko said when he finally released her hand. He picked up a strange looking phone, said something into it and returned to her side. "Brick was in surgery for six hours. That woman—Lorette, I think her name is—hasn't left his side since he got out. I think the big guy finally found a woman who can settle him down."

Niko grinned at his own joke, shaking his head. He straightened the blankets then walked to the door when he heard a knock. Someone entered carrying a tray. He took the tray and ordered the bearer back out. While she ate, he gave her more details.

Olan was still with a man named Colonel Hansen, being debriefed along with Lorette's father and his two assistants. Every stick and stone of the island was being searched for signs of Oleander, but the general consensus was that the man had left the island. The behemoth called Brick was expected to recover, but the bullet had come dangerously close to puncturing his aorta. The doctors of the ship's surgery were calling him a miracle. He left out the part about the concussion the doctors said he had.   

"So what now?" Camille asked.

"You go into hiding and stay there until all this can be sorted out."

"You're still an ass," she declared as she shoved the tray aside.

She tossed the blankets off, swinging her legs out. She didn't notice at first that she was stark naked. When she did notice, she decided not to care. 

"There's no way you're shoving me in some hole somewhere so that I can spend my days and nights worrying if you're still alive. I go with you, got that?"

There were a stream of Greek curses before he dropped into a chair beside the bed.

"Okay, love. You win."

She frowned for a minute, trying to decide if he was being honest. 

"I don't want to be anywhere but with you," he said, meeting her gaze. "All those years without you...God, I missed you."

Taking his hand, she settled herself on his lap. 

"Never leave me alone again," she said. "We stay together from now on, Niko. No matter what, we stay together."

His hand touched the wound on her left breast. She could see the rage in his eyes, knew his Greek blood cried for revenge. Closing her hand over his, she moved it over her nipple, shivering at the sensation of his touch.

"I'll heal, Niko," she said. 

"He should never have had the chance..."

"It's my own fault for not listening to you," she said as she laid her head on his shoulder. 

He pushed her back to gaze into her eyes. "Did he...?"

"No. That's what Olaf saved me from. All he did was use the whip. After that, Olaf came in and stopped him."

"I should've been there to stop him." Niko pulled her close again. "I'll never forgive myself."

She sighed, running a hand down his face. As far as she was concerned, all was forgiven. She wanted to stay in his arms forever.

"Would you shut up and make love to me?"

***

"Quit your lollygagging," Brick growled. "We need to get there before dark."

The forest surrounding them was dark, but it didn't matter to Niko. He'd fight the very demons of hell to keep this beauty by his side. He looked at Camille's smiling face once more, glad that she'd managed to put a few pounds on while they all convalesced on board the naval vessel that brought them home.

"I can carry that for you," he heard Lorette say to Camille. 

"I got it, Lorette," Camille said as she shifted the pack on her back. 

"I feel so useless," she returned. "He won't let me carry anything."

Lorette was referring to Brick, of course. Since getting his feet back under him, he'd been surlier than ever, threatening to come to blows with anyone that came within arm's reach of her. It was fun to watch the big guy humbled by a simple smile from the pretty girl, although neither he nor Olan dared poke fun at him about it. It would be a good way to lose an appendage.

Niko shifted his own pack, keeping a careful eye on Camille. Despite her reassurances that she was well enough, he still didn't like the idea of her hiking over the rough terrain with the load she was carrying. Still, she looked good enough to eat.

"Just a couple more miles," Brick told Lorette. "It's not exactly the comforts of home, but you'll be safe there."

"I'm sure it will be wonderful," she replied, giving him another of her dazzling smiles.

The giant fairly melted, looking as smitten as a prom date. He held out a hand to her, helping her to step over a fallen log. 

"Mind where you step," Brick said. "I don't want you to land on a trip wire."

She looked at the ground before setting her foot down. They all followed him in a single file, stepping where he told them, never deviating from the path. The rest of the hike went silently until they approached a large clearing. In the center sat a dilapidated shack that passed for Brick's home.

Niko almost laughed out loud when Brick turned to stare hopefully at the redhead. He watched her face, holding his breath as she took it all in. 

"It's beautiful." She lied. 

"Aw, I know it ain't much, but I'll get it cleaned up for ya."

"Good lord," Camille said. "What's that smell?"

That was Niko's undoing. He guffawed loudly, clapping the big man on the back. He stepped into the edge of the clearing only to hear a low growl that brought him to a halt.

"Rafe," Brick said, smiling broadly. "Here, boy."

"What on earth is that?" Lorette said with a gasp.

She was the first to see the mangy, three-legged wolf that lived in the cabin. She hid behind Brick, clinging to his arm while she stared at the wretched creature.

"That's Rafe," Brick said with a chuckle. "I was afraid he'd be gone by the time I got back. Here, boy. Is that any way to act in front of a lady?"

The wolf lowered its head and approached, but kept an eye on Brick's three companions. It sniffed Brick's hand, whimpering a greeting before slinking away to the cover of the underbrush again.

"He'll get used to you," Brick said. He was obviously enjoying Lorette's touch and taking advantage of her nearness to hold her hand. "Let's get inside and see how much damage he's done."

Camille gasped, clamping a hand over her nose and mouth, running from the building as soon as they entered. Inside were the bones and carcasses of the wolf's meals. The stench was unbearable. 

Niko followed her, draping an arm around her shoulders. He hooked a finger under her chin to force her eyes up.

"You can't be serious," she moaned. "How are we supposed to live in that hell hole?"

The decision had been made during the week on board ship while Brick recovered from his surgery and chest wound. Niko knew the living arrangements weren't ideal, but since no one else knew of Brick's stronghold, it was the perfect hiding place. Dr. Shaffer and Olan, along with Shaffer's assistants stayed behind to assist Colonel Hansen in tracking Oleander down. The scientist was most adamant that they take Lorette with them and Brick couldn't be happier.

"I know it's a stink-pit, Angel," he heard Brick say, "but it's all I got."

Lorette's answer was true to form for the sweet girl, "Don't worry. I can have this cleaned up in no time."

"I don't want you dirtying your pretty hands," he replied. "You leave it to me."

Niko shook his head. The thought of the big slob cleaning anything was too funny to picture. He couldn't wait to see what Brick looked like as a domesticated man. He gave Camille a hug.

"That's why we brought the tents, agapi," he said. "I've no intention of living in Brick's filth. Hopefully, we won't have to be here long. Olan will get us when it's all over."

She stifled a groan at the prospect of sleeping on the hard ground. Never in all the times her father had dragged her off camping when she was a kid did she enjoy sleeping in a tent. Niko had heard her tell her father of it often enough. He had to wonder how Lorette would take to it.

"Grab an axe, Pavli," Brick said as he walked by with tools in hand. "Must've been a storm. A corner of the cabin's been torn loose."

Niko shot Camille a wink before following the giant to the back of the cabin. He wondered what he'd got himself into with this arrangement. 

***

Lorette walked from the stench of the cabin, rubbing her arms and breathing deeply of the fresh air. The look on her face was almost as forlorn as that on Camille's.

"You okay?" Camille asked.

Lorette nodded, taking another deep breath. "How could anyone live like this?" 

"I've a feeling he's been on his own a long time," Camille answered with a laugh. When she saw the sympathy on her young friend's face, she added, "He just needs a woman to whip him into shape."

Lorette giggled, looking in the direction of the cabin again. "I think he's sweet. He seems so lost."

"Oh, I think he found exactly what he's looking for the first time he clapped eyes on you." Camille laughed again when Lorette colored clear to her hair line. "Let's get these tents up and then we'll see what we can do about scraping the yuck out of his house."

The women worked hard, pitching tents, gathering firewood from the edge of the clearing and setting up camp. By the time the men had finished patching the back of the cabin, they had a fine stew bubbling on the fire and were using shovels to scoop the mess from the building to a second fire down wind of the cook fire. From time to time, Camille thought she spied a pair of wolf's eyes, watching from the ever-growing shadows. 

"I told you not to bother with that," Brick growled as he lumbered over to take the shovel from Lorette. 

She slapped his hand away and continued with her load to the fire. Pulling down the cloth that covered her nose and mouth after she dumped the load, she offered him a gentle smile. Camille only laughed and told the men to wash their hands for supper.

"You ain't gonna wear yourself out," Brick said to Lorette. "I won't have it."

He snatched the shovel from her before stalking back to the cabin. Camille wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, but Lorette looked positively angry. The woman held her tongue, though, when she went to clean herself up. Camille leaned her own shovel against a tree and joined her.

"I swear," Lorette said. "I don't know who he is, ordering me around like that. I'm not helpless."

"He does seem to be abnormally careful with you," Camille said with a grin. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

"Honestly, you'd think I was made of glass or something, the way he carries on. I have a good mind to tell him off."

Camille started giggling. "That's something I'd like to see," Camille said between fits of laughter. "I don't think he's ever had a woman do that to him before."

***

Brick tossed on the hard bed. In the yard, in a tent, Pavli and his woman shared a bed, holding each other like lovers do. Brick had never felt so alone as he did this night, trying to sleep in his cabin on a dirty mattress with reeking blankets. Suddenly the place didn't seem like home anymore. 

Just a few yards from his front door slept an angel with golden red hair and a smile that shook him to his soul—not that he'd seen much of the smile since arriving at his cabin. She'd been giving him the silent treatment. He knew she was angry, but couldn't figure out why.

He slept fitfully, waking several times with images of her in his dreams. When he staggered from the cabin just after sunrise, he found both women building up the fires again. He nearly had a fit of rage when he saw Lorette try to lift the heavy cast iron caldron he kept on the side of the cabin. He closed the distance between them in three strides, snatched her by the arm and pulled her back.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

She stared at him for a moment with a blank expression on her face. After gently pulling her arm free, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"You have no right to speak to me like that," she said very quietly.

He took a step back. There was no anger in her face, but a sudden chill cooled the air. He sure wished he understood women.

"You could hurt yourself, Angel" he said. "Now be a good girl and go sit down."

"Not as bad as I want to hurt you right now," she said with no small amount of venom. 

Her eyes were alight with flames of retribution. She advanced on him, her shoulders squared and her head high. He found himself retreating a few steps.

"You don't get to order me around, understand?" she said, her voice quiet but hard as flint. "I'm a grown woman, not a child. I'm not made of china and this place reeks. If I'm forced to live here, I will have cleanliness. After being locked up in that nasty hole in Oleander's prison, I can't stand the stink of filth and decay. I'm going to clean it up. Just try and stop me."

Brick stumbled backward, tripping over a chunk of wood to fall on his backside. The angel hovered over him, her hands on her hips, looking like a vengeful goddess ready to exact punishment on her transgressors. He'd never seen anyone so beautiful in his life.

"And while we're on the subject," she continued, wrinkling her cute nose at him. "You could use a bath yourself."

Niko dropped an armload of wood and let out a low whistle. Brick looked at him, finding himself at a loss in the face of Lorette's anger. Never in his life had he backed down to anyone, but this angel had him digging for words of apology that wouldn't come. He could only watch impotently as she glided away from him to her tent. She returned a few moments later to hand him a small leather case.

"I was going to give this to you earlier," she said, "but you were being so stubborn about everything—treating me like...like I didn't have a brain in my head—I was too mad. Use it."

She walked away to join Pavli's woman who was trying her best to hide an amused grin. Both women worked together to drag the caldron up and hang it from the tripod over the cook fire. Brick still held the case in his hand, staring in shock at her stiff back.

"They can really throw you, huh?" Niko said.

He was standing next to Brick, extending a hand to help him up. Brick slapped the hand back, hauling himself to his feet unaided. 

"What the hell is this?" he asked quietly, turning the case over in his hands.

Niko chuckled, slapping him on the back. "Open it and find out," he said before walking away again.

Brick felt the best defense was a hasty retreat. He made his way to the path that led to the woods behind the cabin, clutching the case tightly. This path took him to a creek with a narrow waterfall that emptied into a large pool. He'd never been one to take orders—the very reason he'd left the military all those years ago—but he felt compelled to do as he was told by his angel. 

He sat on a rock with the case in his hand. It was a gift. No one had ever given him one before. Running his hand over it, he could feel the fine texture of the leather. A naval insignia was embossed into one side, leaving little doubt as to where she had acquired it. She must have got it from the PX at the base when they docked. 

Dragging a calloused finger down the zipper that held the top closed, he wondered where she'd found the money. Being kidnapped and held prisoner wasn't exactly a high-paying gig. When she left the island, all she had were the dirty clothes on her back. 

An ugly image of the pretty redhead servicing sailors came to mind. A flash of white-hot rage ignited, bringing beads of sweat to his forehead. Shaking his head to dispel the image, he told himself it was his past associations that caused the thought. The only women he'd ever known were whores. This one—this sweet, gentle angel—was nothing like them. She was unsoiled, pure like a snowy mountain cap. 

And she had given him a gift.

With great care, he pulled the key on the zipper. The case opened to reveal her thoughtfully selected items. There was a safety razor with a handle big enough for his thick fingers, a can of shaving gel, a hairbrush, toothbrush, soap and several other items all designed keep a man slick and clean. 

He wasn't sure if he should be offended, or simply moved by her gesture. Olan Jeffreys' words came back to haunt him: "Women don't really care much for the natural ambiance of a man."

With a grin, he set the toiletry kit aside and stripped off his shirt.

***

"You're going to scrub the grain right off the wood."

Niko stood over his wife, covered in the same filth she was, wondering how clean was clean enough. She and Lorette had been at it all morning, dragging items from the cabin and pressing him into service in the process. There would be no living with either of them until the place was spotless.

She raised her head and offered him a baleful expression, then went back to washing years of soil and muck from the floorboards of the old cabin. She and Lorette had scoured the patina from much of the floor, leaving it almost white in some places. Neither of them showed any sign of slowing. They were going to have the place clean if they had to kill themselves in the process.

It didn't sit well with Niko. Something was eating at Camille. She went through the motions of life, but her spark was missing. Even her smile seemed less bright than he remembered and the glow was gone from her eyes.

As he stood watching her, there was a soft noise at the door. He turned, always on his guard lest Oleander and his horde find them. All he saw was the snout of that mangy wolf Brick kept. The animal sniffed the air and took a step back. It seemed the smell of clean wasn't much to his liking. Rafe ran off as fast as his three legs would carry him.

"What else you want me to do?" Niko asked the top of his wife's head. 

She sat back on her feet, taking a deep breath. She stared out the open doorway at some point in the distance before finally looking at him.




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 13



"That's everything until the floor and walls are washed—unless you want to grab a rag and help."

"So, you want me to catch some fish for dinner then, huh?"

He'd hoped his joke would bring a smile to her face, or at the very least, make her mad. She shrugged her shoulders, returning to her work. At that moment, she could have been on the other side of the earth; that's how far away she seemed. 

Shaking his head, he walked away. He decided that once she wore herself out, she'd have no choice but to listen to him. She'd be too tired to find something else with which to occupy herself. In the meantime, he went looking for Brick. The big guy had been gone for hours and Niko wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.

Careful to stay on the narrow path, he watched his every step. Brick was likely to have the entire place booby-trapped. He was a paranoid SOB, but then he had good reason. Even though the man claimed to be retired, he had enemies enough for a small country. The life of a mercenary is anything but pleasant.

"Watch your step," Brick called out as the forest gave way to a bubbling stream.

Niko froze, not daring to move an inch. He glanced over to see Brick ass-deep in cold mountain water, holding what appeared to be a hand-made spear. On the end of the spear was a fat fish, impaled and wriggling in its death throes.

"What is it, landmine?" Niko asked.

"No, dumbass. You almost stepped on my supper."

Niko looked at the ground, finding it scattered with fish. Some of them were still flopping in an effort to escape the dry air. Another one landed on his shoe with a plop—and a chuckle from Brick—delivered just where it was aimed.

"Thought the girls might like a meal of fresh fish," Brick said as he returned to the hunt. "Don't imagine either of them's used to eating freeze-dried rations."

"Say it ain't so," Niko said with a laugh. "The great Marion Brickler doing something nice for someone? Must be snowing in hell."

"Shut the fuck up."

With deadly accuracy, Brick stabbed the water. He pulled out another fish, this one a crappie big enough to cover a dinner plate. 

"Think you got enough?" Niko asked with no small amount of sarcasm. 

"Enough for me and the girls," Brick snarled. He climbed from the water, tossing the stick and the fish down. "Don't know what the hell you're gonna eat."

"I was kinda hoping to wrap myself around a couple of those bass over there," Niko said with a grin. 

Brick was busy stringing the numerous fish on a long tree branch. "You clean 'em, then," he said, shoving the branch at Niko before starting a second one. "Make yourself useful."

"You about ready to head back to the cabin?"

Brick grinned, shaking his head. "Nope. I got my orders. I'm supposed to clean up my act."

"Taking orders from a woman?" Niko said, his voice registering mild shock. "Obedience, thoughtfulness...what the hell's happening here?"

"Aw, hell," Brick growled, dropping the fish. He sat on a nearby boulder and picked up the toiletry kit Lorette had given him. "I don't know what's going on."

"Careful, there, big guy," Niko said. He laid the fish aside, wiping his hands on his jeans. "You sound like you might be in love or something."

"Shut up, Pavli. Just 'cause you're all soft in the head over some twist, doesn't mean I am."

"Uh-huh."

"How do you do it?" Brick asked.

"Do what?"

"I see the way you look at your woman. You go out of your way to make sure she's happy. Hell, you almost got us all killed just to get to her. How do you just give up everything for a woman?"

"I didn't give up anything," Niko said. He took a seat next to the giant and looked out over the water and the trees. They sat for in silence for a few moments before Niko continued, "She gives me everything, Brick. Because of her, I have purpose. She gives me a reason for being. Without her, I have nothing. I'd only be half a man."

"She does all that for you, huh?" Brick thought for a moment. "That little girl back there," he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the cabin, "has sure got me in knots."

"I can tell."

"Wipe that grin off your face, Pavli."

Niko guffawed loudly. He was smart enough to dismount the boulder before Brick's big fist collided with his skull. It was only a half-hearted effort on the big man's part.

"I'm tryin' to talk to you here," Brick stated dourly. "You're acting like a smartass kid."

"Sorry, Brick," Niko said. "It's pretty funny to watch the great Marion Brickler get bushwhacked by a woman."

"Stop calling me that. Christ."

Niko sobered, taking a cautious step closer. He was getting a good look at someone other than the hulking soldier of fortune that was Marion Brickler. He was seeing a man once nearly broken by the past who was now faced with a greater challenge than all the battles he'd ever fought put together.

"Listen, Brick," he said. "If you're thinking of taking a woman for your own, I think you could do a lot worse than Lorette Shaffer. She's a good woman."

"What the hell would she want with a worn out old warrior like me?"

"Ah, so that's it. You're afraid you're not good enough for her."

"Yeah," Brick said with a broken sigh. "You seen her. She's perfect. She deserves to be romanced and danced around. I ain't got a clue about any of that. All I know is killing and hurting. I ain't near good enough for her."

"That's right. You're not."

When a man is as big and mean as Brick, he never has a need to move fast or strike quick. He was capable of scaring his enemies to death with a mere glance, but when he flew off his perch, Niko found himself jumping back on survival instinct. The man was quick as a coiled snake.

"Take it easy," Niko said, putting his hands up. "What I meant was no man is ever good enough for the woman he loves. You remember that, and you'll keep her happy."

Brick's stance relaxed by degrees until he finally walked to the water's edge. He kicked a stone into the pool, watching as ripples fanned out over the water. 

"You think she could be happy with me?"

"I don't know," Niko answered honestly. "That's up to her—and you. I see the way you two look at each other and it reminds me of Camille, and the way she looks at me...the way she used to look at me, anyway."

It was Brick's turn to grin. "Trouble in paradise?"

Niko shrugged. "I can't seem to reach her since we left the ship. She wasn't too happy to see me when I took her from her house. She thought I was dead for eight years and then I showed up out of the blue to take her from her home and her life. She didn't want to go."

"You kidnapped your own wife?" Brick laughed out loud, a harsh sound from someone who hadn't done it much in life.

"It was for her own good," Niko said defensively. He picked up a rock and tossed it at a resting butterfly. "That's a lie. I did it for my good. She would've been safe if I'd left her alone. Maybe...Anyway, I found out she was going to get married again and I lost it. I went after her, telling myself she was in danger. Turns out she was. The guy she was going to marry was one of them, but I didn't really know that at the time. I was a selfish prick. I just wanted her for myself."

Brick let out a low whistle. "Women make men weak."

"You're wrong, Brick. Take a chance and you'll find out. You could have a hell of a life with Lorette."

Niko retrieved the fish and left Brick to his thoughts. By the time he got back to the cabin, the women were moving the now-clean furniture back in. They had blankets, freshly washed, drying over scrub brush. The filthy feather tick Brick had been using for a mattress lay over a thick tree branch where the women had been trying to beat some of the crud from it. If it were up to Niko, they'd burn the nasty thing.

"We held it over the fire and smoked it some," Camille said when she noticed Niko eyeing the mattress. "Thought it would be best in case of vermin. I don't see how he can stand lie down on it."

"Brick's used to doing for himself," Niko offered. He held up the two long strings of fish. "Wanna help me clean dinner?"

Camille wrinkled her nose. "No, thanks. I'll let you do the honors."

"Just my luck. Where's Lorette?"

"Inside. You should see the way she has the place fixed up. You'd think it was a honeymoon cottage."

"Seems to me, it might just be," he said with a wink. "I think the big guy's got the hots for her."

"I think it goes both ways," she said with a smile. "Hope those two don't rush anything."

"They're adults. Camille, you and I need to have a talk tonight. We need to get some things in the open."

"What is it?"

"Tonight," he said. He ran a finger over the frown lines between her eyes. "Don't worry. It's nothing bad."

He walked to a tree stump and pulled a knife from the holster on his hip. If only for her sake they needed to talk. Something was eating her alive. He couldn't help her if he didn't know what it was, although he could guess.

A twig snapped behind him, had him reaching for the gun at his back. He turned to see Brick strolling along the path leading to the cabin. 

"You ain't got them fish cleaned yet?" Brick called out. "What the hell you been doing?"

Niko merely grinned and bent to the task. The sight of a clean-shaven, curried and polished Brick was almost enough to cause a fit of laughter. Laughing at the goliath could get a fellow killed.

***

"Holy shit," Camille said.

Nothing she'd ever experienced had prepared her for what walked up the path. Now she understood why Brick's huge shirt looked a size too small. The man was positively bulging. It wasn't just the over-abundance of man-muscle that caught her attention. His upper body was riddled with scars. The wound he'd acquired on Oleander's island only added to the war map on his chest.

To make matters worse, he had cleaned himself up. His face was shaved—exposing a long narrow scar on the left side of his face. His hair, still dripping, was slicked back from his face to trail down his neck. The military-style pants he wore clung wetly to his lower half while rivulets of water made paths over his scarred chest. 

She found herself staring at the half-naked Adonis. Worse, she discovered that her mouth was wide agape. Drawing on a strength she didn't know she had, she snapped her jaw shut and tore her eyes from his flesh. She found Lorette standing in the doorway of the cabin with a similar expression on her face.

No, it wasn't her own shock that she saw mirrored in Lorette's face. There was more to it. The woman had pure adoration in her eyes, and maybe just a touch of sadness. 

Brick stopped a few feet away from both women, fidgeting at the sodden shirt in his hands and the leather case he had tucked under his arm. He had the look of an unsure boy about him as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked anywhere but at Lorette.

"Brick," Lorette said as she walked toward the big man. "I owe you an apology."

His head shot up, his eyes seeming to search for something. "You don't owe me anything, Angel."

"Yes, I do. What I said to you was uncalled for. It was rude and...I'm sorry."

He smiled crookedly, his features lifting. In that moment, he was no longer the terrifying ogre that would rather spit in someone's eye than talk to them. In that moment, he was a smitten boy.

"I had it coming. Don't you worry yourself about it. There're worse things than bein' told by a pretty woman."

The sound of her giggle was one of relief. She reached for the shirt in his hand, pulling it free when he tried to hang on to it.

"What have you been doing?" she asked, giggling again. "You're soaked."

"I been following a lady's orders. Had myself a bath." He grinned again, pointing at the dripping shirt in her hands. "I tried to wash my shirt, but 'fraid I ain't much good at it."

"Let me," she said, taking his hand. "Come inside. I have coffee ready."

Camille watched them disappear through the door of the cabin. She was glad for them, offering a silent wish of happiness as she went to start supper. Falling in love was just what both those souls in there needed. Lorette had been so lost when Camille first met her—and no small wonder, too, with all she'd been through. Even though the young woman had smiled and said she was fine when asked, Camille had heard her cries in the night when the bad dreams came. Lorette was fighting the demons left her by Oleander and maybe the big moose was the best thing to drive them off. 

Camille also had her ideas about Brick. He was gruff, ill-mannered and bad-tempered. Until now, he wallowed in his own stench with his unwashed body and unkempt appearance. He even went out of his way to drive people off as if he wanted to live up to their expectations of a giant. Through it all, though, she could see he was longing—and in pain. She recognized that pain, that lonely emptiness. She'd felt it often enough through the long years after Niko disappeared. 

But now he was back, right? They were together again and the world was once more theirs. She had little doubt Oleander would be tracked down, taken into custody for all his crimes. Their time in hiding was just temporary. She and Niko would have their life back soon.

So why did she feel so broken?

"Where are you?" 

Niko's voice startled her, causing her to drop the log she'd been carrying. She hopped around on one foot, thankful for the steel toes in her hiking boots. It might have been worse than just a bruised instep. Casting him a caustic glance, she hobbled to a nearby stump to rub her injured foot.

"You okay?" Niko asked with real concern. 

She flipped her hair back, fixing him with another baleful gaze. "Yeah. I'm fine. You just scared the crap out of me and I think I broke my foot, but I'm great. How are you?"

He set a pan of cleaned fish on the ground and started unlacing her boot. "You're pretty jumpy, agapi. You been through a lot over the past few weeks. As soon as you feel safe again, you'll settle down."

"Who are you trying to convince, me or you?"

He'd just taken the sock from her foot, was examining the darkening bruise when he looked up to see the sadness on her face. She tried to hide it behind a sarcastic sneer, but he wasn't fooled. She could see it in the way he looked at her. 

"I'm sorry, Camille. Do you think there's any way for us to fix everything? I'd give anything to see the light in your eyes again."

"The light's gone, Niko." Her voice sounded like death to her own ears.

"I'll never believe it, agapi mou. The sun rises in your eyes."

She pulled her foot from his grasp, reaching for her sock and shoe. As she hurriedly put them on, she could feel him watching her. His gaze was unsettling, almost overwhelming. 

"Quit staring at me."

"You're tired," he said. He returned to his feet and retrieved the pan of fish. "You should go lie down. I'll fix us some food."

"Why don't just pat me on the head and tell me to be a good girl while you're at it? Jesus, Niko. Give me the damned fish."

That's when his famous Greek temper flashed. "Katarameni gynaika!" he yelled.

Camille raised an eyebrow. She'd heard that phrase before. 

"Go fuck yourself, Niko. If I'm damned it's your fault. If you'd just left me alone--"

"You'd be married to one of Oleander's goons," he said, cutting her short. "I came for you because I was foolish enough to want to protect you, but I can see you'd rather be dead."

"At least I wouldn't be a murderer then!" she screamed back at him. 

The truth hit her hard. The image of Doug—the man they called Gerhardt—falling under a hail of bullets she'd fired was burned in her brain. She had killed a man, had willingly fired a weapon and brought death to another human being. She was one of them, one of the vicious, cruel, evil people of the world. She had taken life.

She couldn't stand the site of Niko or his presence. With a cry of pain, she ran down the path that Brick had taken, moving as fast as her feet would carry her. Somewhere in the back of her mind was a warning about trip wires. She heard the desperation in Niko's voice when he called after her, but it didn't matter. She only knew she had to get away.

Thank you for reading this latest chapter. I promise to have the next one out soon. Won't you take a moment to leave me your thoughts and a vote? ~Molly 



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 14



"What the hell goes on?" 

Brick ran from the cabin yelling the words with gun in hand. Niko didn't take time to explain. He could hear the big man's footfalls behind him, keeping pace on the narrow path. 

"Stop, God damn it," Brick yelled, grabbing Niko's arm from behind. "What's going on?"

"It's Camille," Niko said, panting. "She got upset and ran off."

"Fucking women," Brick muttered. "Ain't she got a brain? I told you idiots not to wander off. The whole place is wired to blow."

"I know, God damn it! Why do you think I'm going after her?"

"Christ, let's go--"

An explosion rocked the mountain, sending a plume of debris and smoke over the trees. Niko flinched, staggering back a step as he looked in the direction of the detonation. With a roar of feral emotion, his feet took flight only to be stopped by Brick's big arms surrounding him and holding him fast. 

"Get hold of yourself," Brick ordered. "Did Camille take the path?"

Niko fought him, even trying to use the back of his head to smash Brick's face. The giant was impossible to overpower.

"Which way did she go?" Brick demanded again.

Finally calming enough for the words to register, Niko stopped struggling. "The path."

"Your woman may be fleet-footed, but no one's that fast," Brick said. "That explosion was about a half mile down stream from where the path ends. Either she sprouted wings, or..."

"Or we got company," Niko finished as Brick turned him loose. "Jesus. I have to find her."

"I ain't leavin' Lorette."

"You see to her," Niko said. He pulled his gun from its holster at the small of his back. "I'll find my wife. Get Lorette out of here."

Brick headed back to the cabin with a speed that belied his big frame. Niko didn't take time to think about it. His mind centered on finding his wife and protecting her from whatever was out there. Years of experience and training in stealth tactics came to the surface. He made his way at a fast clip, his feet making almost no sound on the narrow pathway. 

There was a second explosion, this one from somewhere on the other side of the cabin. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he picked up the pace. He had little doubt they were surrounded. Fearing discovery, he left the path. 

A twig snapped to his left. He took cover in the undergrowth, careful to avoid what appeared to be one of Brick's traps. The small mound of dirt looked as if it might be a landmine. Crouched near it, he could see the shadow of a man as it wound its way through the forest. 

Holstering his gun, he drew a knife from his boot. He let the man pass by his position before standing. Quick as lightning, he grabbed the guy from behind, clamping a hand over his mouth and dragging the blade from beneath his left ear, across the jugular vein. Blood sprayed the side of a tree as the man dropped the gun he carried. 

Niko let the man fall to the ground. He paid no mind to the twitching, gagging body as he bent to take the M-16 the bad guy had dropped. Examining the assault rifle, he discovered that it was a military weapon, made in the good old USA. He took a moment to look at the dying body at his feet. The guy definitely didn't look like military. His hair was too long and his style of dress was anything but government issue. 

After searching the body to find two extra clips in the man's pockets, he once again set out to find his wife. A picture of Oleander formed in his mind, of the man taking Camille again, of her being hurt. There was no question to whom these men belonged—and they made enough noise to wake the dead. He could hear another one crashing through the brush at some distance to his right. A rabbit darted in front of him, heading away from the sound. 

He was near enough now to hear the babbling of the stream. Another fifty yards, he knew, and he'd find her—if he could just get there before they did.

 "Let me go!" 

Her scream was full of terror, eating into his brain like acid.

***

Brick made it back to the cabin just in time to hear the detonation of one of his many traps out front. The scream of its victim was cut short, much like a flame being snuffed out. He heard Lorette's cry a second later and kicked through the door to the cabin. She was alone, her arms protecting her head as she ducked in the far corner. 

He ran to her only to stop short of touching her quivering form. "We gotta go, Angel."

She launched herself at him, reaching up to throw her arms about his neck. Her frame shivered against his, seeking something he didn't understand. What he did understand was the soft feel of her body and the scent of her that filled his mind. She smelled of wild flowers and mountain rains. It was enough to make a man forget his life was in danger.

A distant gunshot snapped him out of his reverie. He forced himself to set her away, to take her hand and head for the door. That was when he saw Rafe at the edge of the trees, his hackles raised, his posture defensive. Brick's senses—honed from years of surviving the hell of the path his life had taken—told him exiting the cabin now would be suicide. They were trapped.

Emitting a shrill whistle, he called the wolf inside before forcing the broken door shut and pushing the table in front of it. Lorette shivered near the fireplace, her eyes wide and unseeing with terror. After shuttering the two windows, he moved the narrow cabinet at the back of the cabin, dragging it off a trapdoor in the floor.

"Angel," he said as he pulled the door open. "Angel, listen to me."

She didn't respond, only continued to stare into space, seeing nothing. He could only guess she was reliving the nightmare of her life in captivity. Thinking of his own experiences, he knew she had been through hell. If she had been anyone else, he'd let her rot, but the need to protect her out-weighed his need to save his own skin. In three short steps, he was in front of her, taking each of her fine-boned arms in his hands.

"Lorette," he said. He gave her a gentle shake and watched her eyes slowly clear. "Angel, you gotta get in the cellar. Do you understand me?"

She nodded slowly, looking at him with such torment that rage flared in his chest. He wanted to tear apart any man who had ever hurt this woman, every man who would even think of causing her harm. She was as gentle as a newborn fawn and deserved only the good things in life—the things he would never be able to give her. But he could give her life by stopping whoever was out there from getting her. If he had to die in the process, so be it.

He lowered Rafe into the hole first, dropping the three-legged wolf as gently as he could. Then he grabbed Lorette under her arms, letting her go only when her feet touched the bottom. The cellar was shallow enough that she could still see over the top while standing. She would have to bend down for him to shut the door.

When he tried to close it, she put out her hand to stop him. Her eyes were pleading, her chin quivering.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked softly.

"No, Angel. I'm going to stay up here and stand guard. You'll be safe down there."

"No," she said with more determination than her expressive face allowed. She tried to haul herself back out, but he pushed her down again. "I won't stay here without you."

"You gotta stay there, Angel." He grabbed a bucket of water from the hearth and handed it down to her. "Rafe will protect you. Just stay down there and don't make a sound. I'll come get you when they're gone."

"Please, Marion. I want to stay with you. Please, I can't stand the dark."

That name he'd hated all his life, the cause of childhood torment and misery, sounded like honey on her lips. He'd never heard it spoken like that, never felt so affected by its sound. 

Grabbing a lantern and a box of matches from the mantle, he shoved them into her hands. "I'm sorry, Angel. I can't protect you if I have to worry about stray bullets. Keep your head down and use this if you have to."

He held out a handgun, waiting for her to put down the lantern to take it. When she only stared at him, he shoved it at her again.

"I never shot a gun before."

"Take it, Angel. If they get to you, it's because I failed. Don't let them take you alive."

She nodded, understanding his grave meaning. As she took the gun, there was a noise near the front of the cabin. He pushed her head down, dropping the trap door in place. He could hear the footsteps of someone on the boards outside the door. Snatching the AA-12 from its resting place in his munitions trunk, he slapped a twenty-round drum magazine into place and grabbed the other two loaded magazines from the trunk. He dropped his big frame into a chair in the corner of the room and waited with the shotgun leveled at the door.

***

When she ran, Camille had no idea where she was going, nor did she care. No matter how hard she ran, she couldn't escape the image of a man dying by her hand. What had she become? All she believed, all her life had stood for was gone in the rage of hatred and terror. 

Doug's face flashed in front of her eyes, his mouth dropping open as blood squirted from his chest. It was ghastly. Stream after stream of crimson poured forth like so many spouts on a fountain as each bullet slammed home. He was dead and she had killed him.

That he would have killed Niko didn't enter into what she was feeling now. He'd intended to shoot the only man she had ever loved—her very reason for living—but that wasn't her only motive for shooting him. It wasn't even the main reason. 

The man known as Gerhardt had lied to her. He had created a false foundation upon which she had so carefully constructed her future. He had come to her with promises to fix everything, to put her back together and plan a life with her. 

Niko had also lied. He was supposed to have been dead all those years—all those long, empty years. Without even thinking of the commitment they had made to each other, he had disappeared and left her without a word.

The police and the government had lied. They blocked her every effort to discover what had happened to her husband. The FBI, Senator Hyde's office—even the Social Security office—had forced her to accept Niko's supposed death. 

All the lies weighed upon her like a heavy cloak—suffocating and debilitating. She stumbled under the burden, falling to her knees beside a babbling water fall. She wanted to shriek, to drown out the sound of the happy stream and to silence the screams of death in her head. 

Rage, impotent and devastating, filled her to the point of choking. With that rage came hatred. She hated them all, those men who thought they could rule the world, and her husband wasn't immune. Niko was worst of all. He was supposed to have been her partner in life, but he'd taken off for parts unknown and had left her to her fate. If she ever got out of this mess, she was going to send him packing. She had lived the last eight years without him; she could certainly manage the rest of her life alone.

So lost she was in her inner turmoil, an explosion some distance downstream barely registered on her consciousness. She was still mentally processing the sound when something in the underbrush caught her attention. Maybe it was a rabbit or some other small animal. She was just about to brush it off when the feeling of danger came over her.

There seemed to be a heightened sense of awareness after all she'd been through. Her instincts were sharpened after coming so close to dying, or rather, being murdered. Was she any better than those who had sought to take her life though? She had become like them, willing to kill without thought.

Whatever was in the brush was moving closer. Glancing at the smoke still filling the sky from the explosion, she came to the realization that it wasn't the animals of the forest that lurked about. No birds were singing, nothing stirring but the creature that watched her from cover of trees. She wasn't alone. 

Niko.

Shaking her head, she almost laughed out loud at herself. Of course it was Niko. He was skulking around, watching to see what she'd do next. Remembering how he had been lurking in the grass that day after they had found Olan so badly wounded, she suspected he was doing the same thing now. 

Well, he could sit and rot if he thought she was going to put on another show in the water for him. How could he be so callous? Didn't he care about what she was going through?

Rising to her feet, she turned her back on him and folded her arms across her chest. Still, that nagging feeling of danger wouldn't go away. What had caused the explosion? Was it some hapless woodland creature tripping a wire, or was something sinister going on?

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She was certain she was being watched. If it was Niko, why didn't he make his presence known? 

Since coming to her rescue on that hated island, Niko had shown her nothing but kindness and concern. After making love that first night on board the ship, he hadn't pressed her when she'd needed her space. Although he was never far away, he didn't go out of his way to touch her or make her feel like she had to bed him. Why would he be acting like a lascivious peeping tom now? 

The answer was he wouldn't. The way she had run away, he would have come after her immediately, yelled at her for not stopping when he ordered it and dragged her back to camp. Suddenly, the presence in the trees became far more menacing.

She'd done it again. By not thinking, she had put herself and everyone else in danger. Where was Niko? Had he already been killed while he was trying to go after her? Dear God, she thought. Please, no. 

Another explosion split the air in the distance. It seemed to come from somewhere near the cabin. She thought of Lorette and Brick, of Niko—they all had so much to live for. 

The presence in the woods was drawing closer. She could feel it more than hear it—although whoever it was as noisy as a herd of buffalo. That could only mean the person wasn't afraid of being discovered, maybe even wanted to be found and confronted. 

A shudder passed down her spine. How could she have been so stupid? Had she not learned anything after what happened in Missouri? Well, this time would be different. She was going to be ready. 

As quickly and casually as possible, she bent low to pick up a fist-sized rock at the edge of the pool. She gripped it tightly, gauging its weight in her hand. Strolling slowly and keeping her back to the presence in the forest, she worked her way downstream to where the underbrush came to the edge of the water. Her intent was to dive for cover until she once again remembered the warning about explosive traps. With a sigh, she turned to survey the possible hiding place even though she was unsure of what to look for.

That's when she heard the footsteps running across the dried leaves and loose gravel. She watched from the corner of her eye, keeping her sad little weapon hidden at her side. The man coming at her was armed, dressed in black and moving fast. With nowhere to run, all she could do was wait and pretend not to notice him.

He was on her in an instant, grabbing her from the side, tangling his hand in her hair. Slamming her booted foot down on his instep, she swung her arm around, aiming her rock at his face.

 "Let me go!"  she shrieked, the rock opening a gash on his left cheek.

He let out a grunt of shock, tearing out some of her hair when he flung her to the side. She didn't take time to think about the pain, only blinked back the tears and ran into the bubbling brook. She tore headlong down the stream, stumbling and feeling the slap of cold water when it hit her face. 

The next thing she heard was a single gunshot echoing through the trees. She froze, waiting for the pain and the eternal blackness of death. 

It didn't come. Everything was silent except for her own panting breath. Taking a quick mental inventory, she discovered she was unhurt. On her feet once more, she started to run only to feel a large fist wrap about her arm. She whirled on her captor, lashing out with the claws of her free hand. An arm came up to block her assault; in its hand was a huge gun. She stared at it, terror coursing with the adrenalin in her veins.

 "Agapi mou."  

"Niko," she whispered as she tore her eyes from the gun to see his face. Collapsing against him, she fisted her hands in his shirt and held tight.

"You're safe now, love," he crooned, hugging her fiercely. "But you won't be for long. We have to go."

Nodding, she uncurled her fingers from the fabric of his shirt and slipped her hand in his. He led her through the trees, side-stepping areas and pointing out things to be avoided. Remembering the explosions, she pulled up short.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I heard...Did the cabin blow up?"

A smile, cynical and yet endearing, lifted his features, somehow putting her at ease. She had a sudden urge to wrap her arms about him, to feel his flesh against hers.

"No, love. What you heard was Brick's own brand of burglar alarm."

"Was anyone hur—Never mind. What do we do now?"

"First, we're going to get Brick and Lorette and get the hell out of here. Then we'll figure out the next step." He released her hand to strum his fingers down her face. "I need to know that you'll do exactly what I say, Camille."

She nodded, brushing her hair back with a shaky hand. Suddenly, the past didn't matter. The cloak of lies could be forgotten if only he would always look at her that way.

"Yes, Niko. I'll do whatever you say."

"I mean it, Camille. I have to be able to trust you in this."

She pressed his hand to her face. Tilting her head, she nuzzled against his palm as tears filled her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Niko. I haven't made things easy. 

"No, but I had it coming. You were right, you know. I should never have left you behind, no matter what the risks were. I did this to us and I promise—when this is all over—I'm going to make it right again."

She smiled through her tears, pulling his hand from her face. "I thought you said we were in a hurry. Let's get out of here."

"There's the smile I missed all those years, baby." With a light chuckle, he pulled a gleaming revolver from the small of his back. "Take this. You got six shots."

She didn't argue as she took the weapon. Curling her fingers about the grip, she tested the weight before nodding her readiness. It was cold and heavy and gave her a sinister rush of power she wasn't sure she liked. A vision of Gerhardt's dead body flashed before her eyes once more. Shaking her head in an effort to banish it, she fell into step behind her husband. 

There was a sound somewhere to the left. Niko shoved her down into the bushes before disappearing from sight. It was against her nature to lie waiting, but she did just that, counting the moments in her head. Time ticked slowly by, the forest around her as still as death. 

Images of things too horrible to comprehend filled her mind. She found herself clutching the revolver to her chest, feeling the bite of the steel against her breast. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she let it out slowly and waited.

She waited for what seemed an interminable time. Sweat began to form on her upper lip while she schooled herself to remain motionless. Her shirt, still damp from her fall in the creek, clung to her skin, making her feel all the more confined in the clawing bushes. Still, she waited. 

A small flock of birds broke from the trees, taking to the air in a flurry of screeches and flapping wings. Camille let out a gasp, clamping her teeth down on her lower lip to keep from screaming. The birds disappeared, plunging the area into silence one more. She scarcely dared to breathe when she heard the sound of a struggle nearby.

It took both her thumbs, but she managed to pull the hammer back on the large handgun. Taking a deep breath, she eased herself up just enough to see Niko over-power another man. He clubbed the guy on the head with his rifle, and when he was down, hit him a second time. There was a sickening cracking noise, like a melon being squashed. 




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 14



Camille dared not look at the result as she gently eased the hammer back down on her gun. Her stomach was having a hard enough time reconciling the situation. She turned away, averting her eyes while Niko wiped blood and gore from the butt of his rifle. When he was finished, he gave her arm a reassuring squeeze and pulled her along behind him.

They approached the edge of the clearing with great caution, each surveying the area while keeping low behind the undergrowth. 

"This is where it gets tricky," Niko whispered. He gave her a long, hard look before glancing at the cabin. "We have to move quick. I don't suppose there's any way you'll wait here?"

"Hah! Besides, I'm faster than you and you know it."

The face he turned back was grinning. There was fire in his eyes, enough to heat her to the core.

"Stay with me," he said. "Stay low and do exactly what I do."

She gave him a curt nod. "Ready."

Before they could make a dash from the cover of the forest to the cabin, there was a flurry of gunfire, followed by a bellow of rage. The voice could only belong to Brick, a sound loud enough to shake the entire forest. 

"Nothos," Niko hissed at the unseen attackers. He turned to Camille, giving her a grim expression that chilled her to the bone. "This is going to get a whole lot bloodier. Stay close to me."

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she followed him, keeping near-silent pace across the rocky ground between the trees and the cabin. She found it difficult to run bent over with her head low, but still she managed to keep up. 

It wasn't until they plastered their backs against the back wall of the building that they heard sounds from inside. Through the shuttered window they could hear the sound of fist on flesh and the grunts of the victim. The voices were angry but muffled. It was impossible to tell what was being said, but it was certain they wanted answers.

"Christ," Niko hissed. 

"What are we going to do?" Camille asked. "They're going to kill him. And what about Lorette?"

"You can't kill someone like him." Niko spied through a chink in the wood shutter, sizing up the situation. "I don't see her," he said. "Oleander's in there. He's got three guys working Brick over."

"Why won't he leave us alone?" Camille's whisper was broken and shaking. "It's never going to end. I just want my life back. I want peace."

"Me too, agapi mou." He ran the knuckles of one hand down her cheek, bringing her eyes up to meet his. "We have to end this, Camille. Do you know what I'm saying?"

She nodded, her heart turning cold. "Take no prisoners."

"Oleander still wants that fucking box. I say we give it to him."

"You mean that thing you showed me on the ship? I thought you said you were going to throw it overboard."

His face split with a grin that was anything but warm. The light in his eyes was sinister, giving her cause to shudder and feel the need to celebrate that he was on her side.

"Stay here," he said. "I mean it, love. Stay here and don't move. I'll be right back."

She saw him dash across the clearing to the tent they had been sharing. He disappeared inside, making the walls shake as he rummaged for God-knew-what. When he emerged again, it was to run for the edge of the woods with a small pack in his hand. Camille could only speculate about what he was scratching from the dirt. When he was done, he put whatever it was onto a tree stump. It looked as if he was building something—or taking it apart. 

Beads of sweat on her forehead turned to tiny rivulets, streaming down her face as anxiety mounted. She wished he would hurry. He was only partially hidden by brush, leaving him exposed to whoever might decide to take a shot at him. The whole business was making her a nervous wreck.

***

The sounds from the room above were terrible. As frightening as the old wolf was, Lorette stayed close to him. He seemed to take a protective stance in front of her with the fur on his back standing up in a most threatening manner. His low growls were enough to make her quake.

Even scarier was the gun she cradled against her chest. It was cold in her hands, matching the fear that ran so freely in her veins. Tears flowed down her face to splash on the blue steel. More than once she thought of putting the end of the barrel in her mouth. Only the pained grunts of Brick above caused her to hesitate. She had the feeling if he heard the report of a gunshot, he would give up.

He couldn't give up. She wouldn't let him. The man had done so much for her, had saved her when she thought she would never survive. He insisted on helping to find her father and rescue him, and with a bullet lodged so close to his heart. Even though she could understand why others feared him, he had only been kind and thoughtful to her. There was a kind of gentleness in him that he worked hard to hide, but she saw it clear as day. She could feel his pain, his loneliness. It was a reflection of her own emptiness. 

This was a man who could fill that void in her soul, a man who she trusted, and he was suffering to protect her. She had to do something—anything—to stop what they were doing to him up there. 

The ugly old wolf hobbled as he paced under the trap door, raising his muzzle to sniff the air. He wanted to get up there, that much was certain. If only she could figure out how to get him out. Striking a match, she lit the lantern and raised it to illuminate the damp crawlspace.

In one corner was a pile of old wooden crates. When she started to move toward them, the wolf let out another low growl.

"It's okay," she whispered, her voice soft. "I won't hurt you. I'm trying to help."

The animal seemed mollified, went back to pacing under the door. Each time Brick let out another grunt or a voice of one of his tormentors spoke, the wolf raised his head again. 

Lorette could only hope the men above were too busy to hear the noise she was making as she pushed a crate across the dirt floor. It was hard work. The box was heavy and she had to position it while on her knees. She moved a second one in place before putting out the lamp again.

Rafe had already perched himself on one crate by the time she climbed on the other. Saying a quick prayer to whatever saint might be listening, she lifted the door a mere two inches to peek at the world above. What she saw had her biting her lower lip to maintain silence.

Bloodied and defiant, Brick was shackled and tied to the heavy wood chair in which he sat. Three men pounded on him while he glowered at them with pure hatred. Oleander was there, standing out of range of the splattering blood, asking questions in between punches. 

The only sounds coming from Brick were grunts and the occasional seething growl. Lorette knew he'd die before saying anything. She had to do something. Lowering the trap door, she went in search of the gun he'd given her. She found it lying next to the lamp after igniting a match. She singed her finger before making it back to the trap door and dropping the match.

"Okay, boy," she whispered. "Time to help your master. You up to it?"

The wolf growled low in his throat, dropping his head in warning. Lorette lifted the door just in time to see the butt of a rifle collide with Brick's skull. A man stepped between her and Brick, his back to the cellar door. She lifted the door higher, rising to her feet on top of the crate. She hoped she was doing the right thing.

Raising the gun, she pointed it at the broad back in front of her. It took all her strength to pull the hammer back. With a deep breath and a silent prayer, she squeezed her eyes shut and yanked back on the trigger. 

The report was deafening, still ringing in her ears when she landed on her backside in the dirt below. There was shouting above as the door flew back against the cabinet. Rafe, with a strength that contradicted his handicap, bounded through the opening, neatly ripping out the throat of the first man to reach the cellar opening. The man's twitching body rolled forward through the opening. It landed on the dirt in front of Lorette, wrenching a scream from her frozen lips.

***

It was hard to imagine a gunshot could startle her at this point, but Camille hit the dirt when a weapon was fired inside the cabin. A second later, she heard Lorette scream, followed by another gunshot, and then another. There was another sound, a pained yelp that could only be the cry of a wounded animal. Brick's voice followed, giving a ferocious howl that would rival the fury of an enraged grizzly. 

All this took place in the matter of moments, allowing little time to interpret the actions inside the cabin. Niko had heard, too. He ran across the open yard to pull Camille back to her feet. She could see her panic reflected in his eyes.

A fourth shot split the air inside, echoing out through the chinks in the log walls. It was followed by the sound of splintering furniture and Brick's feral howl. Someone was dying hard in there.

"Let's go," Niko whispered. He took off around the far side of the cabin, heading toward the front with Camille in tow. He stopped just short of rounding the corner, motioning her back against the wall.

"Now what?" she asked.

He handed her a small object. "Stay back and wait." When she started to protest, he held up his hand. "Just do as I say, baby. I need you here. I'm going to see if I can lure Oleander out to the stump. Once he's within three feet of it, I want you to hit the button on the remote."

She stared at the object in her hand. "Is it a bomb?"

"Yeah, so you have to stay back. There's enough explosive to send us all to hell and back. Stay behind the cabin and wait for him to get close to it. Understand?"

"Y-yes, but what are you going to do?"

"I'll see if I can help Lorette and Brick."

"You'll get yourself killed."

He pressed his fingers to her cheek, staring into the depths of her eyes. "Not on you life, agapi. I just got you back. There's no way I'm leaving you again."

He placed a tender, quick kiss on her lips before he disappeared around the corner of the building. She took a deep, steadying breath before peeking around the corner.

"Oleander!" Niko yelled. He stood behind one of the posts of the front porch. "Get your sorry ass out here. There's something you want and I have it."

Camille heard the shuffle of feet and muffled voices. "Bring it in," a voice called out. "We'll let your friends go."

"Come out and get it. All we want is to be left alone."

"Throw down your weapon then," the voice said. "Step out where we can see you."

He tossed his rifle away, stepped out from behind the pillar. It seemed to Camille she could scarcely breathe. In her left hand she held the detonating device. In her right, she clutched the revolver so hard her fingers began to ache. What was he doing?

Raising his hands slowly, Niko walked out to the center of the clearing. "It's over there," he said, indicating the tree stump at the edge of the woods. 

Someone stepped through the door onto the planks of the porch. A cold chill ran the length of Camille's spine when she recognized Oleander. His was the face of pure evil without so much as an inkling of empathy. 

"Retrieve my hard drive," Oleander said over his shoulder. A man walked out and past Niko, smirking as he went.

"Take it and go," Niko said to Oleander. "Leave us in peace."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mr. Pavli. You've caused me far too much trouble. Your transgressions cannot go unanswered. You must pay."

"You're not God, Oleander."

"Perhaps not, but I do hold the power of life and death over you and your lovely wife. It's such a shame that she and your two friends will have to pay the price for your arrogance. Where is that sweet lady of yours, anyway?"

Nothing was going as Camille had envisioned. Of course Oleander wasn't going to get his hands dirty and retrieve the thing himself. Niko stood before him like a sacrificial lamb. They were all doomed—and if that was true, she'd be damned if Oleander and his minions got to walk away unscathed.

"I'm right here," she said as she stepped around the corner. With the revolver leveled directly at his chest, she stopped a mere ten feet away.

"My dear, you're looking a bit worse for wear. What have you been up to?"

"Dodging your bullets, Oleander. Not very nice of you."

"Yes, well, we all do as we must. Why don't you put down that nasty gun before someone gets hurt."

From the corner of her eye, she could see the expression on Niko's face. He was mad as a hornet. If they survived this, she would here about it for weeks. "I can't do that just now. Kindly tell your bad guys to put down their weapons and leave."

The crazed man who would be dictator of the world began to laugh. It was apparent he was thoroughly amused. "You truly are precious," he said. "Mr. Pavli, I believe you have no idea what a find you have in this woman."

"I know exactly what I have and how lucky I am to have her," Niko said.

Camille smiled lovingly at her husband. "I love you too, honey. Now, Oleander, I don't wish to be rude, but I'm going to have to insist."

"Ah, my dear, I've no intention of leaving just yet. Gerard, bring her out."

A shivering, nearly mindless Lorette was brought through the cabin door. The man named Gerard had his arm around her throat and a gun to her head. Camille looked back toward the inside of the cabin.

"Don't worry. Your brutish friend still breathes, though I cannot imagine why. There's so very little left of him. You can have a look for yourself, if you like. Thomas is standing guard over him."

"I'm fine right where I am."

"Be reasonable. You'll not win this. Lay down your weapon or your friends will start dying, starting with this simple creature."

Glancing past Niko, she saw Oleander's man stop in front of the stump. He carefully inspected the item lying on top as if it would jump up and bite him.

"Better to die like this than to drag it out," Camille said. "And if we die, we take all of you with us. That means a whole lot less trouble for everyone else."

She held the remote up, placing her thumb on the ominous red button. Oleander's controlled exterior finally cracked. He was at least sane enough to show a smidgen of fear. 

"Niko?"

"Yes, Camille?"

"Is there really enough explosives over there to blow us all to hell and back?"

"Yes, agapi."

Taking a shaky breath, she faced Oleander with what she hoped was her most pleasing smile. "See you there, Oleander."

The next second and a half caught in her mind as if captured by a slow-motion camera. Niko dove forward toward the building as Oleander turned to run. Gerard and Lorette hit the floor of the porch under Niko's weight as Camille mashed down on the remote button. Oleander went down on top of them, tripping over the falling bodies as the entire mountain shook from the force of the explosion. Camille flew backward, landing several feet away from the cabin to have the wind knocked from her lungs. Something landed on her chest.

The percussion of detonation seemed to roll on forever, ringing in her ears as debris rained down on her. She covered her head instinctively, but couldn't seem to get her bearings. As the smoke cleared, she realized the explosion had ended. It was her own ears that still rang. 

The thing on her chest was a shoe. Only after lifting it did she realize it still housed the ill-fated owner's foot. With a scream, she tossed it away. Her hand fell on something cold and hard. Her gun?

She fell twice while trying to climb to her feet. The ringing in her ears was ebbing, her rattled brain clearing in bits. She heard a gunshot, saw a man fall a mere two yards in front of her. Looking past him she saw Niko. He was still alive—covered in dirt and blood, but alive. 

She stumbled toward him and the splintered remains of the front porch. He was alive! And he was smiling at her. As she took the third step, there was a flurry of movement behind him. 

Like a phoenix from the flame, Oleander rose from the wreckage. His left eye was gone. Blood poured from his face unheeded as he raised a gun and pointed it at Niko's back.

She screamed his name, her feet taking on new life as she broke into a run and raised her revolver. Then there was a blast that made her scream again and Oleander went down, nearly cut in two. Behind him stood Brick, his face and body battered and bloodied. He spat on the prone gore, threw down the large gun he carried and fixed Niko with a vicious glower.

"Pavli, what the hell did you do to my house? I hope you know you're going to rebuild every stick of it."

Then he turned and snatched Lorette from the rubble, carrying her away from the scene of death and destruction. Camille watched in amazement when the big man set her friend down and kissed her with fiery passion. It was a strange thought to have at such a moment, but she didn't think the man had it in him.

"Answer me!" Niko had a hold of her arms, shaking her roughly.

"What?" she yelled back.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. Maybe, if you'll stop shaking me." she yelled again. 

"Why are you hollering?"

"What? I can't hear you over the ringing in my ears."

Niko grinned at her, pulling her close and crushing the air from her lungs.

***

On the other side of camp, a similar scene played out between Brick and Lorette. Niko's body had shielded her from most of the blast but something had left a gash on her right temple. Niko had clubbed the man under her with a chunk of wood to immobilize him. That was before the other man had come running from the cabin and Niko had gone after him. Inside the cabin was the sound of a terrible struggle.

She fought to clear her mind as she was carried across the yard. It registered somewhere the person packing her around was Brick. He had a bad limp, but showed no sign of slowing. Everywhere she looked was total devastation.

"You're safe, Angel."

Looking up into his battered visage, she noticed how bad the damage was. "Put me down, Marion. You're hurt."

"I'm fine. Let's worry about you." His pace didn't slow as he headed for the trees.

"I mean it. Let me go."

At first it seemed as if his feelings were hurt. He set her on her feet, his big hands wrapped around her arms. "No. Never. Pavli said I could keep any treasure I wanted to carry from the island. You're it."

"I'm not a trinket to be set on a shelf, Marion. I'm a living, breathing woman with a woman's needs."

"You don't think I know that? Since the moment I laid eyes on you, all I wanted to do was hold you and keep you safe."

"Is that what you think of me, some pitiful creature who needs your protection? I don't want to be protected. I want to be loved."

"I love you, damn it."

With those impassioned words, he pulled her close. He gave no warning before his head bent low. His powerful arms lifted her until her feet no longer touched the ground. Then his mouth landed on hers, stealing her breath and her ability to think. She tasted his blood, felt the heat of his flesh and wanted more. No one had ever kissed her in such a manner.

When he set her down again, she would have stumbled back if not for the grip he still had on her arms. He was looking at her hard, searching for something.

"Marion..." The word fell from her swollen lips like gentle sigh.

"You don't have to say it." He released her, took a step back. "I know what I am, and what I am ain't near good enough for you. You should have parties and fancy friends and a husband who can carry you off to Europe at the drop of a hat."

"You really are a jerk, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know."

"No, you don't know. For a man who can fight his way out of just about any crisis, you sure give up easily. Why do you think I'm here right now? I could be with my father, safe in some military installation, but I wanted to be here. With you. If I wanted parties and trips to Europe, I would have done it years ago. I don't know where you get your ideas from, but I'm not exactly a social butterfly. I'm here—with you—because I choose to be, so let's get one thing straight. You either grow a set of balls and fight for me, or you take me back to my dad."




A Cloak of Lies Ch. 14



His swollen eyes grew round as his mouth dropped open in shock. Clamping it shut again, he scratched his scalp, opening one of his wounds. Lorette tore off a corner of her blouse and reached up to dab at the cut.

"Well? What's it going to be?" she asked.

"No man living has the guts to talk to me like that. You been hanging around Pavli's woman too long."

"She has a name. It's Camille. If you and I are going to be together, you're going to have to give her a little respect."

"Are we going to be together?"

"That's up to you. I expect my man to see me as a woman and not some helpless child in need of assistance. I need to know you won't treat me like a china doll."

He grinned crookedly. Gone was the look of disappointment and self-loathing. If not for the damage to his face, he would have looked almost boyish. Lorette felt like wrapping herself around him.

"I'm glad to hear it, Angel. I been having a hell of a time keeping my hands off you. Every time you pass by, I want to reach out and grab you."

"Glad to hear it, but I'm not one to be grabbed at, either. I had enough grabbing and obscenity on the island. I want tenderness and love."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, taking a step closer. "Whatever you want, you just tell me. Uh, except don't ask me to dance. I got two left feet."

"That's okay. We can get you lessons."

He laughed, a wonderful, jovial sound that tickled her to the core. 

"I'll get you house broken yet," she said.

"I'm beginning to understand why Pavli lets his wo—Camille lead him around by the balls. Makes a man feel whole somehow."

She giggled softly, tossing away the bloodied rag as she stepped into his arms. 

***

It was less than an hour after the first explosion and not more than half an hour after the final one that a helicopter showed up. The weary survivors were still trying to get their bearings when Brick yelled, "Hit the dirt!"

"It's just the local search and rescue 'copter," Niko said. "The blasts probably scared the low-landers out of their beds." 

They took cover anyway. No sense in tempting fate. Under the shade and shelter of the trees, Lorette tended Brick's wounds—and they were many. He'd been shot, beaten and tortured, but nothing could wipe the silly grin off his face. As she cut away his trousers to gently tend a bullet wound in his thigh, Camille was offering less tender mercy to the one lone survivor of Oleander's band.

"Fuck, woman," the man groaned. Camille did her best to control her animosity as she dressed the head wound Niko had given him. "You cu..."

His words were cut short when Niko punched him in the mouth. "Watch your language, asshole. That's my wife."

"Niko, sweetheart?" Camille didn't look at her husband as she roughly wiped at the fresh blood spilling from the bad guy's lip. "I'm not going to be able to keep him alive if you don't stop beating on him."

"Then he better keep shut."

The man known as Gerard had awakened with a groan shortly after Oleander died. When Niko dragged him to the nearest tree and tied him up, Gerard had screamed in agony. There was a bone protruding from his left arm just above where his wrists were bound. As hard as she tried, Camille could not muster even the smallest crumb of sympathy for him. He was getting what he deserved.

"It's strange how this bone is sticking out," she said to no one in particular. "And he can still make a fist."

"That's 'cause it ain't his," Brick said from where he sat on a fallen log.

Remembering the occupied shoe that had landed on her after the blast, Camille shuddered. It was part of the man who had gone to pick up the object that Niko had wired with explosives. A wave of nausea hit her. Gerard started yelling for someone to pull it out of his arm.

"Shut up," Niko ordered. He pulled Camille to her feet and set her on a tree stump. "Hold it together, agapi. Just a little while longer and we'll be away from all this."

As if on cue, several more helicopters swooped overhead. With no safe place to land, men started dropping down ropes, commando style. All of them were armed, dressed in fatigues and ready for action. 

"What now?" Camille asked. She'd had about as much as she could stand.

"It's the good guys," Niko said. He turned his attention to the one who appeared to be in charge. Extending a hand, he approached the man with a broad grin on his face. "Colonel, late as usual."

The man clasped Niko's hand. His face was less accommodating, his expression grim. "Just had to blow up an entire mountain, Pavli. I'd recognize your handiwork anywhere."

As Camille watched the exchange with mounting anxiety, she felt a soft tug on the hair at the back of her head. She turned to see a familiar, friendly face.

"Olan!" Fairly launching herself at him, she hugged him fiercely. "I'm so glad to see you."

"I'm glad to see you. When I heard what was going on up here, I thought the worst. Good to see you in one piece."

"Let go of my wife."

"Ah, the big Greek," Olan said in her ear. He gave her another squeeze before releasing her and turning to Niko. He greeted his old friend and looked around quizzically. "Oleander?"

"Yeah. Brick capped him off in front of the cabin. Not much left of him now. I guess you guys are left with mop up duties."

"That's okay. We brought your buddy Phelps along. Hand him a broom. I see the big ox survived. And it looks like he got the girl."

Brick was still grinning as Lorette continued to work on him. She had moved to the wound in his right shoulder, using the bandages one of the soldiers handed her. 

"Yeah. He saved my life," Niko said. 

"I've never seen him smile. He looks almost human."

"I heard that," Brick yelled. Lorette admonished him, her voice soothing and gentle. "But I'm gonna let it slide," he added.

"Where's that mangy wolf?"

"Keep your voice down, pal. He bought it in the cabin. Brick crushed the head of the guy who did it. Looks like someone squashed a melon. He's pretty tore up, but Lorette keeps his spirits up."

"Oh, I can see that."

"Hey, where you going?" Niko turned to see Camille walking away from all of them.

"I need to get away from here. It smells like death and it's making me sick."

"Not alone, you're not."

"Please, I just need some fresh air."

"I'll go with you. Stick to the path."

A few minutes later they stood by the waterfall, away from the cabin and the mayhem. They wrapped their arms about each other, holding tight and breathing the moist air. Camille was shaking, the tremors in her body growing stronger with each passing minute.

"Are you crying, love?" he asked. 

"No." Her voice was little more than a sodden sob against his chest. 

"Liar."

"How can you stand it? How did you live with this kind of fear?"

"I thought of you. Everything I did was to get back to you. You were all that kept me going."

"And you thought I'd be there, just waiting..."

"I'm an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, but yeah. I thought you would be waiting for me."

"I waited a long time, Niko. You didn't come back. I had to let you go."

He pushed her down on a boulder and crouched in front of her. His eyes held all the pain of separation and years...and maybe something more. "You were right, agapi mou. All that time, I didn't stop to think what you were going through. I just expected you to be there. All I ever thought about was what I wanted, what I needed. It's all over now. With Oleander dead, no one will bother you anymore. If you want me to leave you alone, I will. It'll probably kill me, but I'll go. You're going to have to tell me, though."

"God, you're such an asshole." She grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him close. "If you think you're going to run out on me again, you got another think coming. After everything you put me through, after all the bullshit, you're stuck with me. Get that through your thick skull right now."

He was just about to smother her with kisses when he heard a footstep behind him. As he reached for the revolver at his back, a familiar voice spoke.

"So this is the face of the lady that launched a thousand ships," Colonel Hansen said. "Or more accurately, the US Military."

"Christ, Hansen, your timing sucks." Niko stood up, turning to face the man and his entourage. He helped Camille to her feet. "Camille, this is Colonel Roger Hansen."

Hansen shook her hand, smiling broadly. "It's a real honor to finally meet the woman who flushed out one of the world's worst criminals. I hope you'll forgive me for the intrusion."

"Actually," Niko said, taking his wife's arm. "If you don't mind, I was just about to make love to my wife. Think we could get a little privacy?"

Hansen was still chuckling as he walked back toward the shattered cabin. As soon as he was out of sight, Camille slugged her husband in the arm. She was blushing clear to her temples, as much from anger as embarrassment. "If you think you're going to get me naked now, you are sadly mistaken."

His left eyebrow lifted ominously.

"Niko, whatever's on your mind, you can forget it." She took a step backward, skirted the boulder and turned to run. 

He had her in an instant, swinging her up in his arms and heading for the pool at a dead run. Still holding her, he jumped in, bathing them both in the icy water. She squealed and swatted at him, making a pretense of swimming to the edge. He pulled her back, wrapping his arms around her and stealing her breath with a kiss.

She was lost in that moment. She didn't know much other than she never wanted to leave his arms again. A few minutes later, he carried her to the bank, laid her down on the grass and made good on his statement to Hansen. He made love to his wife right there by the water. An hour later when they returned to camp, they were hoisted up to a waiting helicopter and carried back to civilization. Both were grinning, shivering in their damp clothing and happily exhausted.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Thank you all for your patience while I finished this story. I hope you enjoyed it. The epilogue is next.

If you have a few moments, feel free to leave a comment and a vote. 

With my thanks, 

Molly



A Cloak of Lies Ch. 15



Epilogue

That's all folks...

"Seriously?"

Lorette waved a nervous hand at Camille, telling her to keep her voice down. She looked around carefully, checked out the window to make sure they hadn't been heard.

"Yes," she said. Her voice was hushed, as if imparting a secret that could bring the world to a screeching halt. "I don't know what to do."

Camille laughed, jostling the cherub on her lap. "For heaven's sake, Lorette, you have a baby, that's what. It sort of comes along with being pregnant."

"You're a real card, Camille. I think I have that part figured out. I'm talking about Marion. He's going to have a heart attack when I tell him."

"You mean you haven't told him yet? Don't you think the man has a right to know he's about to be a father?"

"You have no idea what he's like."

"I'm sure I can guess."

The baby started giggling at the mongrel chasing its own tail some feet away. Both women laughed along with him.

"Seeing you with your son makes me really want to have this baby. I can't wait to cuddle and hug him and tell him about all our adventures. I just don't think Marion could stand it."

"What makes you say that?"

"You saw the way he acted, like he was afraid of breaking little Nick. He won't even touch him."

"Well, we'll just see about that." Camille stood up, hefting her four-month-old son up to her shoulder. "You're getting to be such a big boy. Let's go see Uncle Brick and show him what he's missing out on."

"Camille, what are you thinking?" Lorette asked with some trepidation.

"I'm thinking that any man who can fight off an entire army of villains should be able to face his greatest fear—small children. This should be fun."

***

The cabin was beautiful, something to really be proud of. Niko was glad he'd had a part in constructing the sprawling home. Calling it a cabin seemed an understatement. It was more a cross between a mansion and a lodge. Brick was an enigma. The man had lived in squalor for years but had more money socked away than anyone could have guessed. And the man had a head for business. With his investment portfolio, he and Lorette could afford to live quite comfortably. 

"I saw the mutt Lorette gave you for your wedding," he said. "It's really grown. The thing looks like a horse."

"Yeah. He's a good dog, but nothin' like ol' Rafe. Like to tore me in two when that prick shot him."

Both men fell silent for a moment, remembering the day when all hell broke loose on the mountain. "So, how do you like genteel living?" Niko finally asked, trying to hide his smirk when Brick growled.

"It sucks, if you gotta know. I can't even walk in my own house without taking my shoes off or Lorette throws a fit. The woman's a clean freak. And lately, it's getting worse. She's always scrubbing at something—usually me. She's got me smelling like a rose."

"And you love every minute of it."

Brick grinned broadly, something Niko was having a hard time getting used to. 

"You got me dead to rights there," Brick said. He led the way to the back of the cabin where the shady, awning-covered patio awaited with its new furniture. "She insisted on getting all this fancy shit to sit on out here and I have to admit that I like it. Something's bothering me, though."

"What's that?"

"Aw, hell. I should keep my big mouth shut."

"Spill it, Brick."

"It's not that I want your advice or nothin', but...Something's wrong with her. I can't really figure her out."

"Why do you say that? She seems perfectly fine to me."

"I don't know. Maybe it's nothing. I ain't had much experience with women on a domesticated level, so I probably just imagine..."

As his words trailed off, Niko could see something was truly eating at the big guy. "What's up, Brick?"

"Well, take yesterday for instance. For weeks Lorette's been cleaning and planning and scheming about your visit and when the two of you show up, she starts crying. I thought she would be glad to see your wife again, but she just started bawling."

"Women don't just cry when they're sad, fella. They don't even need a reason to do it. They just cry—when they're happy, when they're angry. They just up and cry."

"Yeah? Well she's been doing it a lot lately. She ain't herself, I tell ya. You remember when we first found her, how sweet and gentle she was? Well she ain't now, brother. The woman goes off at the drop of a hat, gets spittin' mad and it's like tangling with a mountain cat. The next minute she's apologizin' and cuddling up to me like nothing happened. I think she's plain crazy. I had no right bringing her up here and separating her from her family."

It was Niko's turn to grin. "How long's this been going on?"

"I don't know. A couple o' months, I guess. But that ain't all..."

"What?"

"You know...Shit, I don't even know how to put it. Okay, it's like this. All those years the only women I knew were whores. I paid for my needs and cut 'em loose. Some were good, some were just whores."

"Yeah? So?"

"Well, Lorette ain't like that. She...Her only experience with men took place in that dungeon on the island." Brick paused, an expression like a thunder cloud crossing his face. "I'd like to bring every one of them sons-of-bitches to life so I could kill 'em all again." He gave himself a visible shake and sat up a little straighter. "Anyway, on our honeymoon, I was afraid to touch her. Hell, I was scared I'd hurt her. And she was so shy, not timid, but shy. I was gentle and she seemed to like it that way."

"And?"

"And now it's different. She's not shy, let me tell you. It's like my sweet wife is gone, replaced by...by a hell cat. I mean, every night! She's going to kill me."

"So, you're complaining that Lorette cries too much, forces you to be clean and rocks your world every night. And this is a problem because...?"

"Shut up, Pavli. I knew you wouldn't understand."

"What's to understand? Listen, Brick, Lorette will tell you what's on her mind soon enough. Women have their ways and all we can do is wait for them."

"You know something I don't?" Brick leaned closer, put out a hand as if to grab Niko's throat. To make matters worse, Niko laughed.

"Know what?"

Both men looked up to see their wives walking toward them. Niko was clearly amused while Brick looked like he might explode. 

"What does Niko know that you don't, honey?" Lorette asked as she took the chair next to her husband.

"I don't know. He won't tell me."

"Here, Brick. Will you hold Nick for me?"

His hands in the air as if to ward off an attack, Brick reared back in his chair. "Not me. I don't know nothin' about babies."

Camille plopped the child down on his left thigh and pulled his hand down to support the infant's back. "Nothing to it. Just hold onto him and say a word or two to him every now and then." She walked away and sat on Niko's lap. 

All three of them were entertained by his obvious discomfort. The baby wrapped a tiny fist around one of his big fingers and cooed.

"Come get this thing," he said. "I'm afraid I'm gonna break it."

"You better get used to it, Marion," Lorette said.

"Why? They'll be gone in a couple of days and we can get back to normal."

Lorette's eyes flashed emerald fire. "You can be so thick sometimes."

"See?" he said to Niko. "This is what I'm talking about. She gets mad over nothing and goes on the attack."

"Why are you talking about me like I'm not here?" Lorette asked. "If you want to know something about me, you could ask me."

"Niko," Camille said. "I think it's time you and I took little Nick for a walk." 

She snatched the baby off Brick's lap and walked away. Remembering discretion to be the better part of valor, Niko followed suit, grinning at his friend's predicament. 

"I always wanted one of these," Niko said when they stopped at the edge of the new driveway. A large black Hummer gleamed in the sun atop the fresh white gravel. 

Both turned to watch the scene on the patio unfold. It was obvious a showdown was taking place, but it was difficult to tell what was being said with only the occasional word drifting toward them from time to time, at least until the tempers of the combatants flared. 

"Don't argue with me, Lorette," Brick bellowed as he got to his feet. "Get in the house now."

It was rare to hear Lorette raise her voice, but she did and nearly brought the awning down on them both. "Who do you think you are ordering me around like that. I'm not dying, you imbecile. I'm having a baby. Women do it all the time and never change their lives to appease paranoid husbands. I'm about to be a mother and you will treat me with respect. What's more, you're going to be a father. You better start showing a little happiness about it."

It looked as if the big man had been hit by a Mack truck. He staggered backward, flopping into his previously abandoned seat. The heavy iron-work of the massive chair gave under his solid frame. It crumbled under him and hit the stones of the patio wrenching an audible grunt from his lungs. 

Lorette squealed, dropping to her knees next her flattened husband. Niko laughed, holding Camille back when she started to rush to his aid. "He's fine, love. Let Lorette take care of him."

A moment later, Brick reached up, pulled the little redhead down on himself and yelled, "I'm going to be a dad!"

The Pavlis took their leave, walking through the woods to give the other couple some time alone. Niko loved packing his new son around, showing him all the wonders of the world, and Camille loved to watch them. It had been a long time since she'd known the peace of their present life.

"I'm so glad Brick took all those traps out. I was scared he'd make Lorette live with the woods all wired for Armageddon."

"Nah, he'd never do that. Besides, the contractors wouldn't come up here until he promised to take care of it. Doesn't mean he's not still suspicious. Look." Niko pointed up at a tree. "It's one of the new motion sensors he put in."

"Lorette told me about it. He took out the explosives but still has the place wired—with electronics. It's like he thinks Oleander's coming back from the dead or something."

"Agapi, Brick has reason to worry. He's got a lot of enemies—uh, past acquaintances—who'd like to see him come to harm. Now that he's got someone beside himself to look after, he's not about to take any chances."

Camille chewed her lip, taking the baby from his father. "I know and I worry about it all the time. What if some of your enemies come looking for you? It could happen, you know."

"I know, babe. Don't worry. As soon as our new house is finished, you'll feel much safer. I won't let anything happen to you or our son."

"I know I sound like a broken record, honey, but are you sure we need all that?" 

She was thinking of the construction project that had been going on for more than five months. The structure was too big for a simple family of three. It had hidden rooms and corridors for emergencies and, when finished, would be like a fortress, complete with electronic surveillance and its own emergency power and water supplies. As her father would say, they could "get dug in like a tick on a hound". 

"Better safe than sorry and the Company's paying for it, may as well take advantage."

"I don't like it. Promise me you'll never go back to working for them."

"You know I have to make a living. It's not like I'll be in the field anymore. Training recruits is a regular nine to five. The pay's right and I'll be home every night for dinner."

"I still don't like it. Those assholes took you away from me for eight years. I wish you'd find another way."

"With Hansen running the show, things will be different. I'm a civilian now and they know I won't ever join the game again. I'm completely yours, my love."

She looked unconvinced as she cradled her son a little closer. "Nick's getting fussy. Time for his nap."

"That sounds good. Why don't we all take a nap." He wiggled his brows at her in a suggestive manner that had her giggling. 

"Is that all you ever think of?" 

"What else is there? I have the rustic back-drop of the mountain forest, a beautiful family and thou. It's all a man needs."