Whispered Lies

CARLOS SHIFTED IN his seat, caught between sleep and consciousness. First class offered more room for his legs and arm space, but nothing for stiff muscles and memories too dark and twisted to be mere nightmares.

He breathed deeply, trying to use this time to rest.

The subtle scent of a female swirled near his nose. He might have gone back to sleep at that point if not for noticing the arm draped across his middle.

He opened his eyes to find Gabrielle beneath his left arm, hugging him as she slept. Her chest expanded and contracted softly against him with each steady breath.

When had she lifted the center console and scooted under his arm?

From his vantage point it was hard not to glance straight down where a gold, oval-shaped locket had slid into the valley between the gentle swell of her breasts. Sure, an antique locket had drawn his attention. He lifted his right hand to cover his eyes, then propped his elbow against the aisle armrest. Everything about this mission was wrong or off-key.

Starting with Gabrielle’s being practically royalty. An aristocrat with a bloodline that could be traced all the way back to the thirteenth century.

Men had fought wars over women like her.

She might not be a runway beauty, but Carlos now understood why he’d sensed an inherent grace about Gabrielle.

And she was attractive, in an understated, natural way without all the fuss. He rarely met women who would go out in public without makeup or clothes in perfect order, but Gabrielle had changed from her wrinkled warm-ups to a pair of jeans and pink knit top without a peep of protest. She accepted the plain clothes as standard fare, then braided her hair and twisted the single length up on her head with a clamp.

No muss or fuss.

A simple yet elegant look on her.

She could dress and live like a queen with round-the-clock protection. Why didn’t she?

His mother-and that was stretching the definition-would never have forsaken a life of luxury to live in anonymity or moderation. Alena Anguis had considered herself royalty and expected everyone to treat her as such. For a while, Carlos and his brother had been the favored princes in the household, until Carlos realized how much blood the Anguis dynasty floated upon.

He uncovered his eyes. He stared at the sun rising beyond the window, trying to bury the painful memories back where they belonged. Forever forgotten. He hadn’t thought about his biological mother in many years, intentionally. The woman had cared more about the latest fashions and keeping her body perfect than children whose births cluttered her life. She refused to be soiled by a messy kid or to consider having another baby after Carlos’s brother. Pregnancy was an imposition she bore like a martyr.

Her obsession turned into bulimia, killing her by the time Carlos was ten.

His father, Durand, had sold his soul to the Salvatore family when he married Alena, only daughter of the powerful Salvatore cartel. Durand owed all he had gained to them.

When Salvatore withdrew his support of the Anguis upon Alena’s death, claiming she’d died from mistreatment, Durand declared war between the families. From that point on, Durand was determined to prove the Salvatore don had made a mistake in snubbing him.

For the bloodline of a spoiled princess, Durand turned every male in his family into soldiers for his personal war.

The only real mother Carlos ever had was his aunt Maria, Durand’s sister.

For her, Carlos would carry a secret to the grave that would likely send him to an early one. But that’s what a man did for the ones he truly loved.

His gaze settled on the woman clinging to him.

Mirage-Gabrielle-had passed on more information on the Anguis than any intelligence agency for over eight years. Carlos had to know what she knew. Had to know if there was any way she might expose his secret.

He’d treat her as a temporary ally, for now.

Gabrielle gripped his chest and started breathing in gasps.

A nightmare had her. Odd, but he was as sure about that as he was about what it would take to calm her before she began screaming.

He unclipped her seat belt and turned her until he could hold her face against his chest. Her rapid breathing indicated she was closing in on full panic. He whispered into her ear, “Wake up. Come on, baby, wake up. Just a dream.”

She trembled against him, her fear so real he could see it on her skin. God, he hated that.

He rubbed her back slowly and whispered again, giving her a little shake to break her away from whatever grisly images played through her captured mind.

Her arms had locked around him when he’d turned her to face him. Fingers clutched at his side. He hissed at the recent wound she’d grabbed and reached down to move her hand.

Slowly, her breathing evened out again. Before thinking better of it, he kissed the top of her head and continued moving his hand along her back and arms.

The flight attendant stopped next to him with a silent offer for the blanket in her hand. He nodded and smiled his thanks when she draped it over Gabrielle then moved away, checking other passengers.

Gabrielle peeked out between her lashes, not ready to admit she was awake. This was not where she’d been when she went to sleep. She remembered lifting the console so she could get comfortable, but not how she ended up in Carlos’s arms. Again.

His hand moved slowly up and down her spine. Her body preened under the comfort, refusing to break contact and turn away from what he freely offered. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend she was in the arms of a man who cared for her.

But she wasn’t fooling herself about why he was here or her value to him. She had some freedom of movement for as along as he perceived a value, but what about once she had nothing more to offer?

Would Joe really set her free?

She shivered at the possibility of remaining a prisoner of this black-ops group who didn’t exist in the known world of espionage.

“Are you okay?”

Gabrielle stilled at his deep voice so close to her ear, then pushed herself away from his chest. His gaze was both sharp and tired. She wondered if he ever rested.

He was here with her in spite of not agreeing with this mission. He’d told her he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. She believed him.

“I’m fine. How did I end up this way?” She glanced between them.

“You were having a nightmare. I didn’t think you’d want to scream and put the entire airplane into a panic.”

She flushed with embarrassment at the definite possibility since she’d been deep into a blood-drenched nightmare when she’d heard him trying to wake her. He’d saved her that humiliation.

“No, of course not. Merci.” Gabrielle shifted away until she sat properly in her own seat and brushed loose hairs off her face. Her stomach rumbled softly. She must have slept through breakfast. “How close are we to landing?”

“About twenty minutes.” Carlos dropped his chin down as though he wanted only her to hear him, so she leaned close again. “When we arrive, follow the instructions I gave you.”

She nodded, paying more attention to the perfect shape of his mouth at eye level. So firm and male, and kissable. She wished he’d never kissed her and shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

Had to be hormones waking from too long in hibernation that kept her wondering if he’d kiss her again.

“Need me to go over it once more?” he asked.

“What?” She raised her eyes to meet his curious ones.

He sighed. “When we exit the plane-”

Gabrielle’s mind whipped back into gear. “I got it the first time we went through this,” she said, cutting him off, but keeping her voice low. “Stay next to you. Don’t talk to anyone. Tell you if I see anyone I recognize. Don’t use your name or give mine unless it is absolutely necessary. Tell customs we’re here on vacation, et cetera and so on.” She frowned at him. “I got the other fifty dos and don’ts, too. I’m not a moron.”