Deadlock

THREE

"IT'S TIME." STAUNTON P U L L E D her to her feet. "He's ready for you. Are you ready for him?" Emily didn't answer.

"I find I'm reluctant to turn you over to him. I've gotten quite pos¬sessive of you. I want even your pain to come from me." Staunton slipped her jacket on her. "Mustn't get cold. There's another blizzard starting." He whirled her to face him. "One more time. Where's Zelov's hammer?"

She shook her head.

"Oh, Emily, I did try." He lowered his head, and his lips brushed hers.

Her teeth bit down savagely on his lower lip.

"Son of a bitch!" His fist lashed out and knocked her to the floor. His lip was torn and bleeding. "You little savage. You'll pay for that."

"At least it will be me who pays, not Joel," she said fiercely. "And it was worth it."

"I'll make very sure it won't be worth it." He jerked her to her feet and pushed her toward the door. "I wish I could start now, but you have an appointment to keep."

The snow was stinging her face, and she couldn't see more than a foot in front of her as Staunton pulled her away from the hut toward the bandit encampment a short distance away.

He pulled up the flap of a tent whose rear was sheltered from the storm by huge rocks. "Here she is, Shafir." He pushed her into the tent. "Don't kill her. Anything else is permissible." He touched his lip. "Even desirable."

"She stung you?" The bandit smiled as he rose to his feet. Shafir Ali was huge, with a full black beard and bushy eyebrows. "I thought better of you, Staunton. I'll have to teach you how to make her be¬have. By morning she'll be ready to kiss your feet."

"That would be amusing. I look forward to it." He turned away. "Get to work on her." He pulled the flap closed as he left the tent.

"He's angry with you," Shafir said. "I can understand. Women should not be allowed out of control. If you were mine, I'd keep you naked and chained until you learned submission. Perhaps if I do a good job tonight, he'll let me have you for a while." He started toward her. "Come on, bite me, hit me. I'll show you how a man should treat a whore who doesn't know her place." He put his hands on her shoul¬ders. "Are you afraid of me? You should be."

He stank of sweat and leather, and his grip on her shoulders was excruciating.

Ignore it. Fight him. Try to get away. This might be her last hope. Once Staunton came for her in the morning, her chances of escaping would be nonexistent.

"Tell me you want it," he said. "Tell me you want me to fuck you." When she didn't speak, his grip tightened. "Beg me."

Her knee swung up and connected with his balls. As he grunted with pain, she tore away from him and ran toward the tent entrance. He caught her before she reached it and backhanded her. She fell to the hard dirt that formed the floor of the tent. He hit her again.

Her head was ringing as he flipped her over and she was barely able to see him through the haze of pain.

"You run from me?" He took his knife out of the holster at his waist. "I'll just have to make sure you can't do that again." He plunged the knife into the side of her left calf.

She screamed as the pain tore through her.

"That's right," he said as he pulled the knife out and stabbed it into the earth next to them, burying the point in the dirt. "Staunton will like to hear you scream. I'll just keep this handy in case I want to prick you again." He tore open her jacket and jerked open her shirt. "Maybe your breasts…" He bent his head, his face flushed. "You bit Staunton until he bled. Do you think he'd be pleased if I bit this pretty nipple and made you bleed?'

The knife he'd buried in the earth was within her reach.

Wait. He was liking this, wanting to hurt her. Pretend to be help¬less and in pain. Distract him.

Pain seared her nipple as his teeth sank savagely into it. The moan she gave was no pretense.

He lifted his head and licked the blood off her breast. His eyes were glazed with pleasure. "Now the other one."

His teeth bit deep.

She cried out. She arched upward.

And her hand closed on the hilt of the knife. She plunged it into his side.

He made a sound like a wounded bull as his head jerked up. She pushed away from him and scrambled to her knees. Get out of the tent. Get away from him.

But the knife thrust hadn't stopped him. He was moving, rising to his knees, reaching for the AK-47 leaning against the wall of the tent. "Bitch. I'll fill you full of-"

His head snapped back as an arm encircled his neck from behind. With one twist, the man who had seized him broke his neck.

Emily stared, unable to move, stunned. It had happened too fast. She couldn't take it in. She hadn't seen the man until the mo¬ment he had killed. High cheekbones, tight lips, an expression beyond intensity. Dark clothes, dark hair, dark eyes glittering in the lantern light.

Angel of Death.

"Grab the AK-47 and any ammunition you can find." The stanger dragged the huge bulk of Shafir Ali's body toward the pallet and dropped a blanket over it. "I'll be back for you in a minute."

"Wait. Who are you?"

"John Garrett. The CIA sent me to get you and Levy out." Freedom for her but not for Joel. "You're too late. Joel is dead," she said dully.

"I found that out when I got here and made contact today." He moved toward the back of the tent and started to slip through the slit he'd made in the fabric. "Fasten up your clothes and get that gun."

She hurriedly fastened her shirt and jacket and stood up. She al¬most fell as agony shot through her calf. She'd been so stunned she'd forgotten the wound. She wouldn't forget it again. It was throbbing with pain. She rolled up her pants. Ugly but not much blood. His knife had gone through the fatty part of her calf. She had no time to bandage it now. She limped across the tent and grabbed the AK-47. There was ammunition in the chest beside the pallet. She grabbed that, too.

"We can go now." Garrett had returned. He was wearing a back¬pack and carrying a rifle. "Good, you're wearing boots. That will help." He reached into his pocket and pulled out gloves and a wool hat. "Put these on. Be sure to keep the hat on. Heat escapes through your head."

"I know that." She pulled the hat down over her ears. "I practically grew up in the woods."

"Good. But the woods aren't as wild as this terrain. We'll climb over the rocks behind the tent and take the path that leads to the ledge that borders the mountain."

She put on the gloves. "There's a blizzard. Do you have transport?"

"Not anywhere close. If I'd had transport, I wouldn't have been able to get near this place. They would have known it, and you would have been taken away. Let's go."

She started toward him and stopped. "I have to do something first." He frowned impatiently. "What?"

She lifted her shaking hand to her head. It was hard to think. "There's a man. Staunton. I have to kill him."

"I'm sure you have reason, but there's no time. Let's go."

"You don't understand. He can't be allowed to live. I have to kill him."

He swore. "I'm not going to risk my neck and yours because you want revenge. Get it later."

"There's a blizzard. He thinks I'm being raped and tortured by that scum. He wouldn't expect it. If I don't do it now, he may get away."

"No." Garrett crossed the tent and stood before her. "Listen to me." He stared intently into her eyes, and said softly, "You're not thinking straight. You're hurt and almost in shock. It's not going to happen. Not now. If I have to do it, I'll knock you out and carry you out of here."

He would do it. She could sense the violence in him. She had watched him murder a man. Angel of Death.

"You know about killing," she said unevenly. "If I go with you now, will you help me find him again so that I can kill him?"

Garrett gazed at her for a long moment. "You must have had a hell of a time here."

"Will you help me?"

He shrugged. "Why not?" He started toward the slit in the tent. "Now can we put some distance between us and these bastards? I want to get a good head start before the C-4 goes off in six hours."

"Explosives?"

"I set enough charges in the tents and the vehicles to cut down the pursuit."

"The huts, too?"

"No, I couldn't get close enough." His lips twisted. "So you can't count on Staunton's being blown up. Sorry."

"You should be sorry." She limped toward him. "No one deserves it more."

"What's wrong with your leg?"

She nodded at the dead man. "Shafir didn't like me running from him. He stabbed me in the calf as punishment. Didn't you see it happen?"

"No, I came in when you stuck the knife in him. Are you going to be able to walk?"

"It's not bad. I can walk."

He glanced at the bandit. "Son of a bitch."

"Yes." She met Garrett's eyes. "But he's nothing compared to Staunton."

He studied her face before he turned away. "Then maybe it's a good thing Staunton's going to be a dead man soon." He disappeared through the slit in the tent.

Yes, Garrett could help her. Those last words had been quiet and yet the deadliness could not have been more evident.

Angel of Death…

EMILY AND GARRETT HAD ONLY gotten a few yards beyond the boulders when a man appeared out of the driving snow. "You've got her?"

"Yes, I told you to get the hell out of here, Karif. I can handle it from now on."

"Don't be selfish." The man grinned, his dark eyes bright. "This is the first fun I've had since you left my mountains. I've been bored."

"Get out, dammit. Go home and keep your mouth shut."

"As you like. I just wanted to make sure that risking my neck was worthwhile." He nodded at Emily. "He'll get you home. Trust him."

He didn't wait for an answer but turned and a moment later was hidden by the thick veil of snow.

She stared after him. "He's Afghan. Can you trust him?"

"Hell, yes. It was Karif who managed to find out where you were. But I told him to go home and keep his mouth shut, dammit. The tribes don't like anyone dealing with outsiders. That's why the CIA wasn't able to find you." He started forward down the path. "Come on. We're losing time."

"OKAY?" GARRETT CALLED BACK to her.

She could barely discern him on the path ahead of her. "Yes." It was a lie. The snow was stinging Emily's cheeks, and she was shaking with cold. They had been walking for hours, and exhaustion was drag¬ging at her every limb. "How much farther?"

"Another ten minutes, and we'll get to the place where I hid the jeep," Garrett said. "Keep moving."

Keep moving, she thought numbly. Easy to say. She'd be lucky just to stay on her feet. One good thing was that she could no longer feel the pain in her calf. Or maybe that wasn't good. Frostbite?

"Do you need help?" Garrett shouted back at her.

Yes. But if Garrett was forced to help her, it would slow them both down. "No." She lowered her head to keep the snow from blinding her and lurched forward. "Let's just get to that damn jeep."

"Yell if you change your mind. I don't want to have to come back and pick you up out of a drift."

"You won't. Shut up. It's hard to breathe in this wind, much less talk."

He was silent. "Sorry. I'll try to be less verbose." He disappeared beyond the veil of snow. "The next thing you'll hear me say is that we've made it."

If those words were ever spoken, Emily thought. Ten minutes he had said, but it seemed more like ten hours. Keep moving.

Don't fall.

It would be over soon. She couldn't see. Snow. Wind. Ice. Don't fall.

"Come on." Garrett was suddenly beside her, his arm around her waist. "It's done. Just a few feet more."

She could make out the dim outline of the jeep a short distance away. "Thank God."

He was opening the door of the jeep and half-lifting her into the passenger seat. "You'll be warm as soon as I can rev up the motor and get some heat going." He was running around the vehicle and jump¬ing into the driver's seat. "Hold on."

Heat? The concept seemed totally alien at this moment. Lord, she wished she could stop shaking. "Where are you taking me?"

He turned on the ignition. It sputtered and didn't fire. He tried it again and it roared to life. "Out of these mountains. I have a friend waiting in a helicopter in the foothills."

"How could he fly in this weather?"

"With difficulty. But it's not a blizzard farther south. It won't be this bad once we get out of the mountains. We'll be able to make it to the plains, then we'll go by ground to Kabul." He reached over the backseat and grabbed a blanket. "Wrap up in this. It may help until the heater starts functioning." He frowned. "Stop shaking, dammit."

"Don't be stupid. Don't you think I would if I could?" She nestled beneath the blanket. She could barely feel the woolen cover, and it didn't stop the chills. "Do you think they're after us yet?"

"No, the C-4 hasn't had time to go off, and it's only been a little over four hours. We should have time to make it to the helicopter. It would have to be pure bad luck if someone barged into Shafir's tent, and since his intentions toward you were probably known, I doubt if that would happen."

"Four hours. It seems longer…" She leaned back on the headrest. 1 m very… tired.

"You can't go to sleep," he said sharply. "I have to drive, and I can't keep checking on you to make sure you're not going into hypo¬thermia."

"I won't go to sleep."

"Damn right you won't. Talk to me. Keep talking." "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't care. Tell me about your family. Your father was a well-known photographer, wasn't he?" "How did you know that?"

"You're famous. The media has made you the U.N. poster figure of the decade. When you get back to civilization, the paparazzi are go¬ing to be fighting to get at you."

It hadn't occurred to her that she would be facing the nightmare of publicity. "No," she whispered. "I can't deal with that now."

"Don't think about it. I wanted to jar you awake, not cause you to flip out. Tell me about your father."

"You really don't want to know."

"Talk to me."

"He was wonderful. We were best friends. He was fascinated by an¬tiquities and took me along on all his photo shoots around the world." "You liked it?"

"Yes, but I liked it more when he did the wildlife shoots for Na¬tional Geographic. We were by ourselves then. We'd spend weeks in the woods, tracking and camping out until he got just the right photo."

"Sounds great. Your mother?"

"She divorced him when I was two. She died four years later." "Is your father still alive?"

"He was killed in a car crash when I was in college." Terrible night. Heartbreaking night. "You still miss him."

"Of course I do. I loved him. I'll always miss him. You don't for¬get the people you love just because they're not with you. You must know that."

"Do I?"

She rubbed her temple. "I don't know whether you do or not. I don't know anything about you."

"You don't have to know anything about me. All you have to know is that for this moment, this time, you're safe with me." He shrugged. "The rest can come later. Are you any warmer?"

"Not yet."

"That's not good. We're going to have to work on it. Keep talking. Tell me about your first assignment with the U.N. Where was it?"

"Ethiopia. So sad… All that parched earth and those dying chil¬dren. I don't want to think of that now."

"Then your next assignment.

"I'm tired. I promise I won't go to sleep."

"Keep talking. Your next assignment."

He wouldn't give up, and she was too weary to argue. She tried to focus. "Yugoslavia. The museum had been almost destroyed, but there were still some vases that had been left in the ruins. A few of them were priceless, and we had to…"

"THERE'S THE HELICOPTER." Garrett stomped on the brakes. "Let's get you on board."

"I don't have to talk anymore?" she asked hazily. She hadn't no¬ticed, but the snow had been gradually lessening. She could clearly see the red-and-white helicopter several yards away. She opened the pas¬senger door. "That's good. I don't see how you stood-Bored. You must have been bored…"

"I wasn't bored." He helped her out of the jeep and called to the man who had just gotten out of the helicopter. "Open that door, Dar¬don. She's not in good shape." He lifted her in his arms and strode to¬ward the helicopter. "We need to get her to a doctor." "Hypothermia?"

"Maybe. I'm betting on delayed shock." They were talking about her, she realized. "I'm just… cold." "Yeah," Garrett said. "And we'll take care of that." "Where's Levy?" Dardon asked.

"He didn't make it." Garrett carefully placed her on the floor at the back of the helicopter. "He died the day before I got there."

"I should have known," Emily whispered. "Staunton didn't need him any longer. Choice. He gave me a choice. I should have known."

"Shh," Garrett said. "Get us out of here, Dardon."

"Right." Dardon hurried up to the cockpit. "There are some blan¬kets in the storage chest."

"I should have known."

"Emily, I need you to focus," Garrett said quietly. "Forget about Levy. We have to concentrate on making sure you're all right."

Forget about Joel? "I can't forget…" He was unzipping her jacket. "What are you doing?"

"I have to get you out of these damp clothes and get you warm. Okay?"

"I don't care. It doesn't matter." She closed her eyes, but all she could see was Staunton's expression in that moment when he had walked out of her hut. "I didn't want him to hurt anymore. I should have known."

"Whatever." He was quickly stripping her. "But Levy is dead, and you're alive. You're going to stay alive. I didn't go to all this trouble to let you go now."

"I don't want to die. I can't-" She inhaled sharply.

Warm naked flesh against her cool naked flesh.

Her eyes flew open.

"Body heat," he said tersely. "It's the quickest way to warm you."

He drew a blanket over both of them. "I'd like to say there's nothing sexual about it, but that wouldn't be true. I'm not capable of that kind of objectivity. All I can promise is that I won't let anything I feel get in the way. Now relax."

Relax? "I can't do that. It's… strange."

"I couldn't agree more." His hand stroked her hair back from her temple. "I can't remember when I've been naked with a woman who was as bruised and bloody as you. It should put me off." His lips tight¬ened. "Instead, all it does is make me want to go out and kill whoever did it to you."

His dark hair was tousled, and his eyes glittered in his lean face. She was so close she could see the sensual curve of his lips and felt the wiry hair that thatched his chest. It made her chest feel tight and it was hard to breathe. She looked away. "You did kill one of them."

"Ah, yes, Shafir."

"And you promised you'd help me with Staunton." She glanced back at him. "You're going to keep your word?" "I don't usually break a promise."

"That's not really an answer. You might have told me anything I wanted to hear to get me away from that place. I need an answer."

"What would you do if I walked away and didn't keep my word?"

"I'd still go after him. It would just take me longer."

"I'm going to call Ferguson with the CIA and tell him where Staunton is located. He may be able to get him for you."

"They weren't able to get him before this. They weren't able to save Joel." She paused. "You said you worked with the CIA only some¬times. Why this time?"

"Ferguson blackmailed me."

"How?"

He smiled. "Then you'd be able to blackmail me, too." "You don't seem to be the kind of man who could be forced to do anything."

"You'd be surprised. My philosophy has always been to do what you have to do and make sure you're paid in full later." "And you had to go after me and Joel."

"That's right." His hand was still stroking her hair with a gossamer-light touch. "I had to do it. I had no choice."

"But you have a choice whether you'll help me now."

"Not really. I do keep my word. In my business, it was necessary to inspire trust and make a profit."

"What kind of business?"

"Smuggling and other nefarious enterprises."

"You're a crook?"

"Retired." He smiled. "But my background made me uniquely qualified to find you and get you out. Are you warmer now?"

She was warmer, she realized with surprise. She didn't know at what point the chill had vanished, but her body, pressed against Gar¬rett's, felt almost flushed with heat. "Yes, you can let me go now."

"For a little while." He sat up and tucked the blanket around her. "The chill will probably come back." He got up and moved over to the storage chest. "But I need to get you fixed up first."

He was totally at ease with his nudity, she thought as she watched him rummage through the storage chest. He was a beautiful specimen of a man-tight, hard buttocks, powerful thighs, calves, and shoulders. He reminded her of a statue of Apollo she had moved from a museum in Sarajevo. But Apollo was the Sun God, and Garrett was all sleek darkness and hidden depths.

Not entirely hidden, she realized as he turned back to her. She looked quickly away from his lower body to the first-aid kit in his hand.

He chuckled. "I told you I couldn't be cool and objective. It's not my nature." He dropped to his knees beside her. "I need to clean and put some antiseptic on those wounds on your breasts. It will just take a minute." He carefully lowered the blanket. His lips tightened grimly as he gazed at her cut and swollen nipples. "The son of a bitch. Bites?"

"Yes."

"Human bites can be dirtier than an animal's. And I'd bet Shafir was as poisonous as a cobra. This may sting." He carefully cleaned and dabbed the antiseptic on the tip of each breast, then put on an an¬tibiotic cream. Then he carefully cleaned and bandaged the wound in her leg. "That's it." He covered her again and sat back on his heels. "Or is it? Do you have any other wounds that Staunton gave you?"

"Only my cut lip."

He was silent a moment. "You weren't raped?" "No, he was saving that. I wasn't hurt at all." She closed her eyes. "It was all Joel."

"Do you want to talk about it?" "No."

"It would be better if you did." "No."

"You're starting to shake again, dammit."

"Just give me time. I can't talk about it now. I won't-"

"Shh." He was suddenly holding her again, pulling the blanket over both of them. "You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about. Just stop shaking."

"He hurt. Joel hurt, and I couldn't-"

"I know." He held her tighter. "It will get better, Emily."

"It's too late. He's dead. It can't get better."

"Not for him, better for you. Like it was with your father. The pain won't be as sharp after a while."

"It wasn't like my father. He died on impact. It wasn't like that."

"Shh. I'm not talking about Levy, and neither are you." His lips brushed her forehead. "We're going to lie here and, if you can, you're going to sleep."

"You didn't want me to go to sleep."

"Who said I have to be consistent? I didn't want you to lose con¬sciousness until I knew what I was facing." He tucked her arm be¬neath the cover. "I can handle it now."

Gentleness. Strange that the Angel of Death would show tender¬ness. "You're being kind to me."

"Every now and then I have a lapse. I think it was because the sight of those bites tore me up." He drew closer, and whispered, "And that was the moment I decided to give you a gift."

"Gift? I don't want any gifts."

"You want this one." He held her gaze. They were only inches apart, and she felt as if those eyes were pulling her into him, absorb¬ing her. "I'll keep my promise. I'll give you Staunton. I won't stop un¬til he's dead."

She couldn't look away from him. She could almost see the lethal darkness swirling around him as it had when he'd killed Shafir Ali.

"Yes, that's a gift I want." She closed her eyes. "Thank you."

"I don't believe I've ever been thanked for killing a man before."

"You don't have to kill him, I'll do it. I just have to find him."

"I think I'm better qualified than you to do the job." He laid his head down beside her own and pulled her closer. "Don't you?"

"Yes." She had stopped shaking and was beginning to feel the warmth ease through her again. What a macabre response to an even-more-macabre promise. But it was no more bizarre than this bond that was beginning to form between them. She was lying naked in his arms and felt… joined in some manner. "I knew that the moment I saw you." She cuddled closer to him, taking his warmth, taking his strength, embracing the darkness. "Angel of Death…"