More laughter punctuated the promise.
“Thomas.” Michal turned his attention to his most trusted man. The only one in the group who had even attempted to stand up to Carlos. For that, Michal was grateful. “Take two men with you into the city and see if you can find the dark-haired man Carlos spoke of. If he is truly with the CIA I want to know about his business here.” He shifted his attention to the Spaniard now. “Take care of Carlos. Already the stench of his deceit pollutes the air.”
With a single inclination of his head, two more of his men joined the Spaniard in his mission.
Satisfied that all was as it should be, Michal left the men to their tasks.
The stunning revelation he had learned from Ron shook him once more. Why had she not told him about the child? How could she lie with him and keep that life-altering secret to herself? He considered that she had lived with the American, the psychiatrist, for two years without full commitment. Anger burned low in his belly at the thought of her with another man.
Was that what she was doing here? Holding back on him? The possibility that the CIA had had someone close by since he brought her here twisted in his gut. Could he have allowed her to fool him yet again? Was everything—the two long years of separation, the amnesia, the vulnerability—all an elaborate set up to finish what she’d started?
Maybe he was wrong about her. She might not be vulnerable at all. The woman who had fooled him once before might simply be a talented actress.
For that matter, perhaps Carlos had been right on that score.
Perhaps Michal was under a spell.
AMI STRIPPED OFFher torn blouse and stuffed it into the trash basket. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and winced at the red welts left by her attacker’s strong fingers. She shuddered when she thought of Carlos lying dead on the floor in the kitchen.
How many people had died here?
She trembled and chafed her arms against the chill of fear. Would she be next? She hadn’t missed the fury in Michal’s eyes. Did he somehow see her as responsible for Carlos’s death? She had caused Raoul’s. She stilled, searching her emotions, attempting to separate fact from presumption. Was her presence what had made Carlos start undermining Michal’s authority?
Closing her eyes, she forced away the thoughts. This was crazy. All of it!
Why hadn’t she grabbed Fran Woodard by the arm and rushed to her car the moment the woman arrived?
There had been time. Of course she hadn’t known that then, but there definitely had been. No one had been watching her. They had been too busy being brainwashed by Carlos. Dammit. She could have escaped…could have been rushing toward the American embassy this very moment. That is, of course, if Fran had gone along with the idea. Though Ami had seen definite sympathy in her eyes, the woman was CIA…she would probably have told her the same thing Tanner had: she had no choice but to stay and finish this.
She flattened her palms on the rim of the basin and sighed in self-disgust. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of business. She didn’t know how to seize an opportunity and make the best of it. At least, not these kinds of opportunities.
Pushing away her worries and uncertainties for the time being, she trudged to the armoire and dragged out a new blouse. Any moment now Michal would come into the room demanding answers. For whatever reason, he was angry with her. She had to deal with him first, then she could mull over the worry that Fran would most likely tell Tanner she had no intention of helping them kill Michal.
She pressed her forehead against the cool, wooden surface of the armoire and battled the emotions that threatened to well inside her all over again. She couldn’t think about her baby right now. She absolutely would not admit defeat. She would find a way to get back to him. But she would have to do it on her own.
An urge to tell Michal about his son, to share that wonder with him, clutched dangerously at her heart. But she couldn’t do that. To tell Michal about Nicholas would be to sentence her son to this life.
That, above all else, was the one thing she was infinitely certain she could not do.
When the door to the bedroom opened, she stood in the middle of the room waiting for whatever was to come.
Judging by the intensity in Michal’s eyes, he was still plenty angry.
“Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. He had, actually, but not the kind of hurt she felt certain to which Michal referred. She massaged her throat, subconsciously contradicting her response.
He paused only inches away and tugged her hand from her throat. “You will have more bruises,” he commented, surveying the red welts on her flesh.
She nodded. “Thank you for stopping him.” It sounded lame in afterthought, but she was immensely grateful for what he’d done. Her fate had already been decided by Carlos.
Michal’s gaze zoomed in on hers like twin piercing laser beams. “Carlos believed you were hiding something.” He inclined his head and studied her eyes, her face, more closely. “Are you hiding anything from me?”
She tamped down the automatic need to stiffen, to avert her eyes. He was watching for those very warning signals. “No.” The word didn’t come out quite as firmly as she would have liked, but she’d gotten it past the constriction in her throat. That was something. Her heart knocked brutally against her rib cage. He knew something. She was sure of it.
There was no way to know which of her secrets he’d uncovered. If she gave away the wrong one…
“Why do you still question me, Michal?” she demanded, hoping to shift the context of the discussion. She lifted her chin and glared at him defiantly. “If you suspect me of some deceit, why didn’t you let Carlos do what he would? Surely he would have extracted whatever truth you believe I’m hiding.”
