Chapter 4
Giva slept better than she had in years. No nightmares of crying children in ragged clothing, no funerals with five caskets lined up. No faces of the friends she’d held in her arms as they’d bled out. No heavy feelings of guilt or regret weighing on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Just a deep, cleansing sleep that left her feeling groggy the next morning with the hint of a headache she suspected was from having cried so hard.
When she dragged herself into the bathroom and got a look at her face in the mirror, she grimaced. Red-rimmed eyes, puffy bags beneath. Not the face of a woman living life to the fullest as the girlfriend and lover of one of the wealthiest men in the world.
Since leaving the military, she’d learned that makeup could hide a lot of sins of age and neglect. Now, she could include the ravages of succumbing to the weakness of tears.
Giva could kick herself for losing control of her emotions so completely—and she did it in front of her new partner for the mission ahead of them. Tears made her appear to be a pathetic excuse for a battle buddy.
Hadn’t she learned during Tironut, her IDF basic training, that soldiers don’t cry? She’d never shed a tear, even as she’d held a fellow soldier as he’d bled out.
With a twist of the faucet handle, she ran cold water into the sink and splashed her face. She hoped the chilly liquid would reduce the damage of the tears she’d soaked Dax’s shirt with the night before.
She’d have to be doubly badass from now until the completion of the mission to regain any semblance of respect from the man who needed her as an asset, not a liability. They were going up against some of the most dangerous men in the world.
She dried her face, sighed at her reflection and went to work on hiding the blemishes beneath a carefully crafted layer of makeup.
When she emerged from her bedroom, she looked better and forced an air of confident nonchalance.
The scent of coffee filled her nostrils, leading her to the source—a tray full of breakfast choices and two carafes of steaming dark brew.
She poured a mug of Turkish coffee and took her first sip.
“Ah, you’re awake.” Dax emerged from his bedroom, fully clothed in the black trousers and shirt he’d worn the night before. He appeared well-rested and ready to start the day.
Which was more than Giva could say about herself. Dressed in a cream-colored pantsuit, she’d slicked her hair against her scalp and secured it in a ponytail that hung down her back in a neat braid.
Although fully dressed, she needed her first cup of coffee before she was ready. Especially since they were headed for a day of shopping.
She was good at choosing fashionable clothing and liked to dress up occasionally. She viewed shopping as a necessary evil. The sooner they got started, the sooner they’d get done. Then, the real work began. They had only a couple of days to learn all there was to know about Evan and Sasha to make their performance convincing.
“I spoke with Fearghas and Peter earlier,” Dax said. “They had a peaceful night, alternating who stood guard outside our door every six hours, so they got some sleep. No excitement, which is always good. Maybe word that E.M. is in town hasn’t made all the rounds yet. And it might take them a minute to make the connection between E.M. and Edward Hughes.”
Giva sipped and nodded. “Good. I’m not ready to jump into his girlfriend’s stilettoes until after I’ve had at least one cup of coffee.”
“You should also load up on protein while we wait for the stores to open,” Dax said. “I have a feeling we’re going to need our strength to make it through the day. Did I mention that I don’t like to shop for clothes?”
“That makes two of us. I’ll do my best to keep it as short as possible.” She snorted. “No guarantees. Some of the staff members at upscale clothiers have a knack for dragging it out as long as they can to wear down the buyer into purchasing multiple items just to get out of the door.”
Dax’s lips pressed tightly together. “Great. Something to look forward to.”
Giva grinned over the top of her mug. “You’ll live.”
“I’d rather face a horde of Taliban soldiers than spend more than thirty minutes in a store,” Dax muttered.
“Suck it up, Marine,” Giva said in her best drill instructor voice, ruining the effect when her lips quirked upward and stood.
“I was just about to pour my second cup of coffee,” Dax said.
“Too late for that. The stores open in twenty minutes.” Giva glanced at her cell phone and squared her shoulders. Not only had she slept well, but the coffee was also kicking in. “We need to get moving.”
“We have to wait for the all-clear from Hank and Sadie. If they don’t get E.M. and his girl off-grid, this operation ends before it begins.”
A knock sounded on the door to the suite.
Giva’s gaze met Dax’s.
“I’ll get it,” he said and hurried to the door, checking through the peephole before releasing the deadbolt and swinging it open.
Ace Hammerson strode in, followed by Jasmine and Fearghas.
Peter remained in the hall as Fearghas closed the door.
“I got a text from Hank on my way here. He’s going to call any minute.” As if on cue, his cell phone chirped. Hammer glanced down. “That’s him. Fearghas?”
Fearghas had his cell phone out and ready. He punched a button, and his phone emitted a white noise that sounded like heavy rain. He adjusted the volume louder and then nodded to Hammer.
Hammer received the call and placed it on speaker.
Everyone gathered closer to hear over the sound of the rain.
“Hammer here. You’re on speaker.”
“Good,” Hank Patterson’s voice came across as staticky but clear enough. “Our guests are secure. With the help of a little chemistry, we were able to borrow his cell phone and forward all calls to the number you provided before we disabled the device. Swede also disabled the internet service for the island. I’m communicating with you on a satellite phone. Are the doppelgangers ready for insertion?”
Dax and Giva spoke as one. “We are.”
“Are the bodyguards on board?” Hank asked.
“They are,” Hammer responded. “Fearghas and Atkins will be there.”
“Dmytro flying them in?”
Hammer nodded. “He is.”
“Then this mission is a go,” Hank said. “If things go sideways, get out. If you need anything, Swede knows how to contact us. I’m not sure how long our guests will tolerate being off-grid. Sadie has them intrigued with the possibility of producing another film at our island location. It might keep him occupied for a few days. Not much longer. Hopefully, you can get what you need quickly and get out. Good luck.”
“Out here,” Hammer said.
“Out here,” Hank echoed.
When the call ended, Hammer glanced from Dax to Giva and back. “You heard the boss. The mission is a go. You can start making public appearances as E.M. and his girl. Dmytro will sneak you out of Zurich in his plane and smuggle you into Dubrovnik before any of the Nexus Collective know you’ve arrived. That way, you won’t have to explain why you didn’t arrive on your private jet.”
Hammer glanced down at his watch. “You have today to gear up and study everything about Maas, his holdings and relationships with the other guests of the invitation-only meeting.”
Dax nodded. “Roger.”
“We’ll gather all the weapons and electronics you might need.” Hammer’s mouth twisted. “They will probably make you check all weapons at the door, but it might help to have them available in Dubrovnik.”
“When does our plane leave?” Giva asked.
“The meeting is scheduled for nine o’clock at night the day after tomorrow. You’ll fly out before dawn that morning, land at Split, Croatia, and board a helicopter that will take you directly to the Heliodrom in Dubrovnik. You should be there by early afternoon with enough time to get to your lodgings and perform reconnaissance.”
“Where will the meeting take place?” Dax asked.
“We don’t know yet.” Hammer dug in his pants pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “As Hank said, they were able to forward the man’s calls….” he held up the phone, “to this phone.” He handed the phone to Dax.
“What do I do if someone calls him?” Dax asked.
“Let it go to voicemail,” Hammer answered. “I turned off the ringer and set it to vibrate. The invitation Swede intercepted on the dark web indicated that directions to the meeting location will be conveyed via text message at eight o’clock Croatian time. You’ll have one hour to get there. We suspect it will be in the old city.”
Giva nodded. “The Old Town is surrounded by a high wall. Inside those walls is the city. It has hidden passages and underground dungeons that have been converted into meeting rooms where cell phones and internet WIFI will be useless.”
“Right,” Hammer said. “They won’t want any outsiders to listen in on their plans or have tracking devices expose the location.”
“Thus, the need to have human ears on the inside,” Dax concluded.
“And a trail of breadcrumbs,” Giva said with a grimace.
Hammer turned to Giva and Fearghas. “Dax will enter the meeting alone. The rest of you will get as close as possible without alerting whatever sentries they’ll have positioned around Old Town.”
“We’ll need to move out if we’re to get suitable attire and still have time left to study our parts,” Giva said.
“Go,” Hammer said. “We’ll meet back at headquarters this afternoon to finalize plans.”
Fearghas turned off the white noise and left the room, followed by Hammer.
“Ready?” Dax asked Giva.
She nodded. “We don’t have much time. Hopefully, we will find everything we need at one location.” She gathered a purse and strode for the door
Dax beat her to it and held it open.
Giva prided herself on her independence and ability to take care of herself. Sometimes, that made her feel less than feminine. Not that she’d ever cared. Having Dax open doors for her went against her stance on equality between the sexes. But she liked that it showed he had good manners and was considerate.
Yeah, she was fully capable of opening her own doors, but she liked that he’d done it for her and that she hadn’t had to ask.
With Fearghas and Peter on either side of them, they left the building, climbed into the waiting vehicle and said hello to Dmytro, their driver.
Minutes later, the four of them exited the car and entered a high-end men’s clothing store.
While Giva and an attendant combed through expensive trousers, shirts and undergarments, Dax stripped in the dressing room and tried on whatever they brought him.
One by one, he stepped out of the room for Giva’s approval. He started with the trousers, coming out wearing only a pair of beautifully tailored black slacks, no shirt and bare feet.
Giva found the man attractive, fully clothed. Seeing him half naked like she had the previous night had her blood burning through her veins.
She gulped, hoping to swallow the rising tide of desire rushing to the surface. Now wasn’t the time to lose focus. They were short on time and had much to do in preparation.
They settled on two pairs of dark trousers and a pair of khaki pants. When he matched shirts with the trousers, she stood and helped him with the buttons at the cuffs. Jolts of electricity ripped through her whenever her skin brushed against his.
Giva retreated to the viewing chair and let him secure his own buttons before she made a fool of herself in front of him.
After selecting trousers, three button-down long-sleeve dress shirts and a blazer, she added a couple of polo shirts and a single necktie. Before they were done, she insisted on a black leather belt, black leather shoes and a pair of casual deck shoes. She wasn’t sure how long he’d be meeting with the Nexus Collective and didn’t want to scramble to find additional clothes.
She paid extra to have the seamstress on staff make a few alterations while they waited.
“On our way in, I noticed a ladies’ boutique next door.” Dax gave her a pointed look. “Your turn.”
“I have enough outfits that will fit the bill,” Giva protested.
He shook his head. “Are they new or hand-me-downs?”
She wanted to tell him they were fine but knew he would see through her words. “Not new.”
“Would your person be caught dead in second-hand clothes?” Dax asked.
“Oh, hell no,” Giva sighed.
“We have to wait for the seamstress to finish my alterations,” he pointed out. “Besides, you promised to try on clothes if I did.”
“Fine,” she said less graciously. “We’ll go next door.”
Dax reached the front entrance of the men’s clothing store, passed through the door, and held it for Giva.
She held her head high, very Sasha-like and walked through with confidence and an air of entitlement she’d seen on Sasha’s face in the photographs.
Fearghas and Peter stood guard on either side of the entrance, wearing sunglasses and black jackets. They didn’t blend into their surroundings at all. Which was exactly what they’d aimed for. Visual deterrence was half the battle of protecting someone.
Giva entered the ladies’ clothing store and headed straight for the trousers, blouses and matching blazers.
Dax stopped in front of a mannequin wearing a shiny royal blue, silky sheath.
“Sasha, sweetheart, you’d look amazing in this.”
“I don’t need a dress,” Giva grumbled. After selecting a handful of pants, blouses and light-weight sweaters, she marched into the changing room.
An attendant valiantly tried to catch up to the woman on a mission and finally did when Giva needed to go into one of the changing rooms.
The woman took the items from Giva, hung them inside the spacious room, and smiled. “If you need a different size, I can get that for you,” she offered in heavily accented English. “Your husband can sit outside the door.”
Giva bit down on her tongue to keep from saying he’s not my husband. “Thank you.”
She closed the door, stripped and pulled on cream-colored trousers, and paired them with a black, sleeveless silk shell. After a quick glance in the mirror, she stepped out of the stall.
Dax sat in a white leather chair directly across from the room where she’d changed.
“Do you approve?” she asked, though she didn’t need his approval for anything. Her clothes. Her choice.
A grin spread across his face. “Absolutely.”
“Good.” She spun and would have walked back into the dressing room.
“Wait,” Dax said.
He wasn't in the chair when she turned a frown toward him. He’d disappeared.
“D—” she started, remembered and amended, “Evan?”
“I’m right here, Sweetcheeks,” his voice sounded from around a corner. He appeared carrying a narrow, red leather belt. “Try this, he said, holding out the belt. “You need a pop of color.”
Her frown did nothing to deter him from advancing on her. Before she could anticipate what he was about to do, he slid the belt through the loops on the front of the trousers. His arms encircled her, his fingers feeling their way to each loop, slipping the belt through until he arrived back at the front. He buckled the belt, stood back and nodded. “Better. Look.” He gripped her hips and turned her to face the mirror.
Giva could barely breathe with his hands resting on her hips.
“What do you think?” he asked, smiling over her shoulder into the mirror.
Think? How could she think when he stood so close she could smell his aftershave and feel the warmth of his body against her back? “It’s amazing,” she said breathlessly.
“It reminds me of the red dress and how hot you were in it.” He winked, released his hold on her and moved back. “Go on. Next outfit.”
Giva dove into the changing room and leaned her back against the door, forcing air in and out of her lungs.
The man had only slipped a belt around her waist. He hadn’t kissed her or touched her breasts. Yet, her entire body had lit up like a smelting furnace.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror, appalled at the flush of bright pink in her cheeks. “What is wrong with you?” she murmured.
“Everything all right in there?” Dax asked.
“Yes. Everything’s fine,” she squeaked, cursing inwardly.
He’s just a man.
Giva paced the two steps across the tiny space, spun and paced back.
A ruggedly handsome man.
But only a man. One I have to work with.
She clenched her hands into fists and raised her face to the ceiling.
Don’t complicate this.
“Do you need help with a zipper or buttons?” Dax asked, his voice close, as if right outside the door.
“No. I can manage. I’ll be right out.” Giva quickly unbuckled the red belt. Her hands shook as she pulled it out of the loops Dax had found one at a time, his chest pressed to hers, his hands brushing against her as they worked their way around.
Get a grip!
She whipped the belt out and dropped it like a hot potato, then shimmied out of the trousers and into the black high-waisted slacks. She pulled on a black turtleneck sweater, tucked the hem into her waistband then shrugged into a black and white herringbone jacket. As she stared at the combination in the mirror, she shook her head.
Giva retrieved the thin red belt from the floor and threaded it through the loops, hating that Dax had been right about a pop of color but not willing to let him put it on her for the second time.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him.
She didn’t trust herself. If she was honest with herself...she’d liked it when he’d slipped the belt on far too much.
She stepped out of the dressing room.
Dax leaned against the wall beside the door. When she came out, he straightened and turned to look at her latest outfit. A smile slid across his face. “Nice. That one could be dual purpose.”
She nodded and faced the three-sided mirror, pushing the sleeves up on the jacket and shoving her hands in the pockets. “Paparazzi-worthy.”
In the next moment, she shrugged out of the jacket and pulled off the belt. “Suitable for night ops,” she whispered.
His lips quirked upward on the corners.
His approval made her chest warm. Not that she needed his approval. But it was nice that he recognized her effort to dress according to the mission.
She paid for the outfits, including the thin red belt.
Dax carried her bags back to the men’s store, where they’d completed the alterations and had their purchases bagged and ready to go.
Giva texted Dmytro and Fearghas while Dax gathered his bags.
When they exited the store, the long black vehicle had pulled up to the curb.
To get to the car, they had to walk through a gathering of reporters with cameras and microphones.
“Mr. Maas, how long will you be in Zurich?” one man asked.
Fearghas stepped between the reporter and Dax, hurrying him toward the vehicle's open door.
“Ms. Royce, is it true that your lover paid a million dollars for you to travel to space on the next launch of his commercial spacecraft?”
Giva smiled and refused to respond, linking her hand through Dax’s elbow.
When they reached the vehicle, he handed her in first and then slipped in beside her.
Fearghas rounded the rear of the car to the other door and got in on Giva’s other side.
With cameras aimed at the windows, reporters walked alongside the vehicle as Dmytro eased away from the curb.
Dax stared out at the clamoring throng. “I think the word has spread.”
“Gird your loins, people,” Fearghas said.
Giva’s hand found Dax’s.
He squeezed gently and didn’t let go as they slid through the streets of Zurich.
I’m an independent woman, Giva reminded herself.
But it felt good when someone had her back.