Tess Gerritsen - Double Impact

How could she hope to follow through with Tanner’s plan?

Her hand went to her stomach and she pressed it there, trying to quiet the anguish twisting inside her. He was her child’s father…the man she loved in spite of all she knew about him.

Hurt tore through her. There was no way to win. No matter what she did, someone would lose. If she refused to follow Tanner’s orders she would never see her son again. God only knew what would become of him. Foster homes…adoption. She couldn’t be certain Robert would take care of him once he’d moved on to another relationship.

If she did as Tanner told her, she was effectively thrusting a knife into Michal’s back.

Either way she was probably going to die.

Hot, salty tears rolled down her cheeks, but she made no sound. Her throat had closed with hurt. She didn’t want to die. Michal dying was an even more devastating thought. But the most horrible part of all was never seeing her baby again. She closed her eyes and summoned the memory of his sweet baby scent and his chubby arms and legs.

What she would give to hold him just one last time.

“Let me help you.”

Ami’s head came up and her breath left her at the sound of Michal’s voice. Instinctively she covered her nude body with the towel she’d abandoned on the basin.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, embarrassment flushing her skin.

“You were deep in thought,” he agreed. He touched her and slowly tugged the towel away. She shivered. He’d seen her nude before…but she felt somehow vulnerable this time. The pained look on his face as he surveyed her various bruises made her heart contract.

“Is the pain tolerable?” he asked softly as he picked up the wrap for her ribs.

She nodded, too uncertain of her voice to speak.

“I’ll take care of this.” He reached around her, his body brushing hers, and wound the bandage around her torso.

Her respiration grew rapid as his long, strong fingers moved over her skin. She watched him in the mirror, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. He was so beautiful. She knew with every fiber of her being that Nicholas would look so very much like him.

For one long moment she could hardly restrain the urge to tell him about his son. To share that blessed gift with the man who had somehow broken down her every defense with the same ease and boldness that he had saved her life.

She bit back the words. To tell him would be to sentence her son to this survival-of-the-fittest, kill-or-be-killed existence. She couldn’t…wouldn’t do that.

The tips of his fingers grazed the underside of her breasts and she gasped. He froze, his gaze colliding with hers.

“Did I cause you pain?”

She shook her head. “I just…” She moistened her lips. Why lie? “You touched me and…” She had to look away from that penetrating gaze. “You made me want you.”

He tucked in the end of the bandage, the corset-like wrap pushing her breasts high, the pebbled peaks confirming her admission. Slowly, stealing her breath once more, he trailed one finger over the swell of her breasts, first one and then the other and the dip in between. “I want you, also,” he murmured, then leaned down and pressed a kiss in the tender valley he’d teased. “But I won’t risk causing you discomfort. I can wait until you’re well again.”

Challenge stirred. She inclined her head and studied him. “And what about you? Don’t we need to wait until you’re healed, as well?”

A wicked grin tugged the corners of his lips upward. “Nothing short of death could stop me from making love to you.” His gaze roamed the length of her nude-save for the bandage-body and he growled his approval. “However, you must rest now. I will have to be satisfied with merely lying beside you.” He picked up the gown she’d tossed carelessly across the bench and lowered it onto her as she lifted her arms. The silk slid down her arms, over her breasts and hips, to swirl around her thighs. He admired the fit, not bothering to hide his approval or his need. When he would have turned away, she stopped him with a tentative hand on his muscular arm.

“Michal.”

He looked back at her, the desire in his eyes very nearly undoing her all over again. “Yes.”

“Thank you for saving my life.”

He looked at her so intently, as if he were trying to see inside her, to read her thoughts. A twinge of fear pricked her.

“Saving your life was like saving my own.”

With those words he turned and walked away.

Sealing her fate by claiming one single thing: her heart.

MICHAL LISTENED to the church bells clang, inviting those within hearing distance to come and observe their Sunday-morning Christian ritual. He wondered if they knew that an infamous terrorist loitered nearby…close enough to touch any one of them.

Close enough to rain down more deplorable acts of inhumanity than their small minds could possibly fathom. The mere mention of his name elicited utter fear in the strongest of men. He was the Executioner. He loved only one thing-money. And his only loyalty was to himself.

That was the sacrifice he had made for his country. But the events in Tripoli had made one thing very clear. He would not sacrifice Ami, not in word or deed.

This morning he would initiate the required action, discover the price of her freedom.

Ron Doamiass mingled among the crowd gathered outside the sixteenth-century chapel, speaking to first one and then another as if he knew them personally, which, of course, he did not. A master of public relations, he moved farther and farther from the fringes of the milling throng smiling and offering pleasant greetings like an eager politician.

Admiring the beauty of the gardens, he eventually moved toward the reflective pond and Michal’s position amid the nearby thicket of trees.

“You risk a great deal calling me here again so soon,” Ron admonished sagely.

“You are here,” Michal returned just as sagely. “I am obviously worth the risk to your safety as well as my own.”

Ron’s usual amiable expression hardened slightly. “I am here because you are a friend, not because I am your superior.”

Touché, Michal mused. “Well, as my friend I sincerely hope you can answer my questions.”

“First you will answer mine,” he countered. “What happened in Tripoli?”

“The mission was a success.” Michal leveled an unyielding gaze on his. “What else do you need to know?”

Ron did not appear pleased with his attitude. That was good, because Michal was far from pleased himself.

“Your work was sloppy this time and you were injured.” Ron looked pointedly at Michal’s right shoulder, though the bandage was not visible beneath his shirt.

Michal expected no less. Ron had eyes and ears everywhere. That was part of his job. Part of the way he kept Michal alive when others plotted against him.

Silence thickened between them for a time. Impatient for the truth, Michal demanded, “I will know the whole story about Amira. I believe there are things you have kept from me. I will know what they are and the reason.”

Ron averted his gaze, something he rarely did. His straightforward manner had always been one of the traits Michal respected most about him. “You ask a great deal.” Ron looked over his shoulder at Michal. “There are some things that even I don’t have clearance for.”

Michal cocked one eyebrow. “I have faith in you. You will overcome that mere technicality.” He shook his head then, mulling over the inconsistencies he could no longer deny. “Something is not as it should be. This is not the same woman I knew two years ago. There is…” He searched his mind for the right words, but could not assimilate the proper definition for his instinct. “Something is very wrong.” He pounded his fist against his gut. “I feel it too deeply.”