The Maze (ATCOM) (9 page)

The
memories were good ones he hadn’t thought of in a long time, but telling Attie
took his mind off what he really wanted to be doing. Her breathing had
eventually slowed. He managed to get a few minutes of sleep, but Attie’s
restlessness made it tough.

Before
now she had been tossing around the bed, kicking him every time she turned over
and landing an occasional blow with her hand. This woman didn’t sleep
peacefully and it drove him nuts. She didn’t seem to be having a nightmare like
the other night; she was just restless. The quilt lay somewhere on the floor,
having been kicked off long ago by her flailing legs. The sheets were now
tangled around her and he sure as hell wasn’t taking them back. At the moment
she slept soundly and that was far better than the alternative.

Attie
let out a low moan and moved restlessly, bumping his chin with the top of her
head.

“Please.
Stop. Oh, pleeease…” she murmured, shifting on top of him. She sounded
desperate, as if she’d lost something. The torment in her voice made Noah’s
chest ache. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close, wishing she were
wearing something more than a man’s shirt. He shouldn’t be lusting after her,
but his body didn’t care, it ached for her anyhow.

“Can’t
get…to…you…can hear…have to…save you…”

Her
voice wavered as if she were on the edge of tears, but Noah didn’t feel any
wetness on her cheeks when he touched them. The anguish in her voice almost
undid him. He had never heard her sound so distraught.

Damn
it. She wasn’t given a moment’s peace. During the day she was plagued with
memories of the past and in her dreams she relived them. Small wonder she
functioned at all. Many people with PTSD suffered chronic fatigue syndrome due
to nightmares and inability to sleep. He suspected Attie fast approached that
point.

She
shook her head and mumbled something he couldn’t understand. Her fingers dug
into his shoulder, her body tense. Her muscles clenched and relaxed. Should he
wake her? Or should he wait for the nightmare to pass? Helpless, he stroked her
hair. He always knew what to do, always had a plan, but when it came to Attie
he was lost.

He
knew only one way to help her: free Brendan and eliminate Santiago. Then Attie
would never have to fear him again. With Santiago out there and able to keep
coming after her, she lived in fear.

“Ah,
hell,” he muttered, feeling anger churn inside him. He wanted to wrap his hands
around Santiago’s throat and squeeze until he breathed his last breath.

“Hurts…”
she murmured before going limp as a noodle. Her breathing slowed and Noah knew
she had slipped into deep sleep. Thank God. They both needed to get some rest.

Still
holding her, Noah closed his eyes, wishing like hell he was the one having the
nightmares.

* * * *

“Should
be an interesting night for those two,” Antonio commented, sipping his wine.

Carlos
stared at the closed door, Attie’s scent still lingering, teasing. He much
preferred her natural scent over the expensive perfumes she’d worn on the
estate. They never did suit her. The gowns, however, suited her very well. She
had just the right amount of curve and muscle to make them appealing. He had
always appreciated that about her.

“I
think this is the first time you’ve loaned Attie out.”

Carlos
turned sharply, pinning him with a hard stare. Antonio was very good at what he
did, but he tended to speak his opinion too often. “Nothing will happen in that
room tonight.”

“Did
I misinterpret the signals?”

The
words grated down Carlos’s spine. He had noticed too, but he was no fool. He’d
been right. Noah hadn’t requested Attie for sex; he was protecting her. It
amused him. Noah would soon learn his efforts were wasted. Attie had a price to
pay for her betrayal. Part of him hoped she made it through the maze so he
could have her back, but the other half, the half that refused to accept her as
an agent, hoped she met her demise.

He
still loved her. A weakness that could get him killed. She was the first to
ever slide past his defenses. Disconcerting, yet he liked it. Liked the thought
of having a strong, beautiful woman at his side. Someone to share his business
and nights with.

Atalanta
was one of a kind. She’d played her role well, but he’d seen the fire in her
eyes she tried to bank. He’d written it off as hidden spirit. Spirit he wanted
to nurture and mature. Until the end, he hadn’t suspected her true personality.
She camouflaged it well, better than any other undercover operative that had
tried to take him down. He’d sniffed them out within weeks.

But
Attie was the first to sneak past him. As much as he hated her for it, he also
loved it about her. Any woman who could do that was worthy of his affection.
Think of what they could accomplish together. She was simply misguided. And if
she made it through this he just might steer her straight, show her the kind of
life she could have. The money, the power. It was addicting, and once she tasted
it she would never go back to her noble intentions.

“The
signals were clear,” Carlos said. “But don’t underestimate Atalanta. She won’t
get within ten feet of Noah. She doesn’t trust him.”

“Raises
the stakes, then, doesn’t it?”

“It
will make it more difficult for her.”

“You
want her to make it, don’t you?”

Carlos
stared at the door again. “I want to see how strong a woman my Atalanta really
is. Who she is.”

“She’s
an agent for a highly covert organization. What else is there to know?”

The
corner of Carlos’s lips tilted as he murmured in Spanish.

Antonio’s
gaze narrowed. Wisely, he didn’t comment. Sometimes Antonio was astute enough
to know when to remain silent. He didn’t pay the man for his opinions.

“We
shall see,” Carlos murmured, and settled in to watch the show.

* * * *

Attie
opened her eyes to complete darkness.

Immediately
her heart started pounding in her chest. She tried to sit up, but something
heavy lay across her waist. She couldn’t move. Oh, God, she couldn’t see.

Panic
rose in her throat. A cold sweat washed over her as she fought to escape. She
had to get out of here, had to get to light. A sound rose in the darkness. The
sound of someone breathing. She wasn’t alone.

Panicked,
Attie lashed out at her attacker. What did he have this time? A knife?

She
rolled onto her back and a hard body covered hers, pinning her to the…bed?

Her
attacker said quietly, “It’s Noah. Stop fighting me.”

Attie
stilled, fighting the cloudiness in her head. Noah?

Not
her cell. Not Carlos. Oh, thank God. The fight left her and she slumped against
the pillow, breathing hard.

The
hand lifted slowly from her mouth.

“The
lights,” she said.

“Nothing
we can do.”

“The
lamp—”

“There
are no light switches in here. Santiago has complete control.”

Attie
swallowed hard, trying to calm her nerves. She could handle this. Not her
prison cell. In bed with Noah.

In
bed with Noah.

The
night before flooded in. She had fallen asleep listening to Noah talk to her in
a low, almost tender voice about his childhood. His voice had taken her mind
off the suffocating darkness. Letting her see a part of him no one had been
privy to.

He’d
done it for her.

“Get
off me, Kincaid.” She pushed against his chest.

“Tell
me why you freaked out just now. What were you dreaming?”

She
scowled, even though it was lost on him in the dark. “I don’t remember.”

“You
were talking in your sleep.”

She
stiffened. “What did I say?”

Noah
shifted on top of her, resting more of his weight on his elbows. She was all
too aware of his weight on top of her and how good it felt.

“You
were upset.”

“I
was dreaming.”

“Tell
me what he did to you.”

The
last was spoken in a soft, gravelly voice that pushed past her barriers and
threatened to sneak inside where she kept her secrets carefully hidden.

She
pushed more forcefully against him this time. “Drop it, and get off me. No one
can see us, so enough with the show.”

He
spoke low and husky, near her ear. “This isn’t for show. I want to know what
you dream about while you sleep.”

“Too
bad.”

“You
can trust me.”

The
whispered promise sent an electric shiver up her spine. “No.”

“We’re
in this together now.”

“We
don’t know what ‘this’ is yet.”

“When
we do, we have to stick together. A united front, Attie, or we’ll never get
Brendan or ourselves out of here alive.”

Attie
glared at him. “I’ll do what I have to, don’t worry. But that doesn’t change
anything between us.”

“You
could try seeing the truth and let go of that grudge.”

Something
old and deep ran through her, stiffening her spine and taking her places she
never wanted to go again. “The truth? Are you kidding? We both know what
happened, and I will never forgive you for murdering Seth.”

Muscles
rigid, Noah said tightly, “I didn’t murder him, dammit.”

She
pushed at him again, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. “I was there,
remember? I was the one in that prison cell next to his.”

“I
was the one who found you.” Noah’s voice was low and harsh with emotion. “You
were dehydrated, beaten half to death. Christ, I thought you were dead.”

His
voice cracked, then suddenly he was gone and she was alone in bed, the cool air
chilling her exposed flesh. Senses reeling, Attie sat up, listening for the
sound of his breathing.

Throat
dry and mind spinning, she replayed his words in her mind, letting them sink in
slowly.

“Is
that true?” she asked the darkness.

In
the distance Noah spoke quietly, his voice ragged, “You scared the hell out of
me.”

Attie
swallowed hard. “You never told me that before. Why now?”

A
pause. “I don’t know.”

“I
read the reports, I know what Santiago did to me, but I talked to you. The same
as I talked to Seth through the wall. We whispered to each other so Carlos
wouldn’t hear us. We made plans to escape. Together. He was still alive when
you came for me, Noah. I talked to him.”

Silence.
“I can’t change what you believe. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“You
don’t believe me?” Dammit, she was there. How could he tell her she was wrong?

“You
did what you had to do to survive. I believe that.”

“Damn
right, I did. The bastard tortured us for three days, and I wasn’t letting him
break me. I owed it to Seth for getting caught. One way or another I was
getting us out of there. I wouldn’t have left him behind.”

“That’s
right, he tortured you for three days. Even seasoned soldiers crack under that
kind of trauma.”

“I
didn’t break! Why are you bringing this up? It happened six months ago. It’s
over.”

“It’s
not over.”

She
shot out of bed, following the sound of his voice, so angry she shook. How dare
he tell her it wasn’t over? She was alive, Seth was dead, her career was over
and this time she would save her brother.

Finding
him in the darkness, not caring who listened, she grabbed his shirt. “I dealt
with what happened, so drop it. You will never convince me that Seth was
already dead when you got there. I know it’s a lie. I heard him, so how can it
be true?”

Noah
spun her around, pressing her against the wall, the corner of the dresser
digging into her hip. His hands gripped her shoulders, giving her a little
shake. His breath fanned her lips, his anger palpable. Noah Kincaid’s control
was slipping.

“I
would never do anything to jeopardize one of my agents, and you know it, even
if you won’t admit it. Seth was dead two days before we arrived, Attie. You
read the coroner’s report. You did what you had to do to survive. Believing
Seth was alive so you could save him is what kept you alive. You can blame me
all you want, but if I had it to do over I would do the same. I wasn’t wrong.
Santiago did this, not me. He would have killed you too, if we hadn’t found you
when we did.” His chest heaved against hers. When he spoke again it was low,
controlled. “I am the same man. You can trust me. It’s up to you to believe
that.”

“I
know who you are.” Her heart pounded against her ribs. Her head spun. Noah’s
chest brushed against hers. Her nipples hardened. She was furious with him,
hurt by his words, but her body was aroused.

“Let
me go.” Before she did something really stupid.

He
let her go, cursing into the darkness. She heard him move into the bathroom,
and the water turned on a minute later.