WHEN TESS AWOKE, THEY still weren’t at their destination. The sea beneath them gave way to land while she was eating eggs and toast. Breakfast? Without knowing where they were going, she couldn’t tell what meal it should be.
They began their descent. Wherever they were, it was daylight. Her body was exhausted. Sleep wasn’t easy to get on the plane and wasn’t of the best quality. How could it be given who was at the end of the journey?
They landed at an airstrip in a town surrounded by green. Another car waited for them next to the stairs of the plane. The idea of bolting lingered for a moment. Except she didn’t know where they were or if she spoke the language. Without money, a passport or ID, she wouldn’t get far against the resources of Zeus, a billionaire, and an ex-president.
They drove for what felt like ever, at least a couple of hours. London. They were in London. So she did speak the language. That was as far as her knowledge of the foreign country went. Well, maybe it went a little further, some of the landmarks would be familiar and they had a monarch. She could probably even pick their Queen out of a line-up. Some celebrities from the island nation too.
As for any tactical or otherwise useful information…? She drew a blank.
Byron and Hugo were quiet too. Maybe they were tired as well. Until that moment, jetlag was something she’d heard of, but never experienced. Back in the Nevada desert, something of a routine existed. Returning before dark meant getting to bed early and plenty of sleep. That routine was shot to shit already. London was just starting its day.
Zeus, it seemed, liked to be in the middle of the action. The city was busy, with people and traffic. Everywhere something was moving, something was happening. It wasn’t like the city she’d left, not flashy or gaudy, it reeked of historic appeal. Everything was so much smaller, yet so much more significant. Vegas was all mimicry and imitation, whereas nothing in London was false. Not that she could tell anyway.
The car slowed and turned into a port cochere. It stopped and someone opened the door to let them out. She was trying to take in the sights and sounds when Hugo put an arm around her to guide her in Byron’s wake.
“My bag,” she said, trying to go back.
After landing, her carpet bag had been put in the trunk. Having some of her own things would be a comfort… some of Daire’s things. Hugo didn’t let her retrieve it and kept her moving.
“It’s only around noon, but Ulysses thinks it would be best for us to rest…” Byron said, using an automatic revolving door to enter a grand double-height lobby, setup like some fancy hotel. “Before we do the introductions. The jaunt across the Atlantic can be taxing.”
Leading the way, Byron took them from the immaculate lobby into a glass elevator. They ascended with the greenery of a park on one side and the bustle of the city on the other. Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe there wasn’t so much history around; the modern building contradicted that assumption. Old and new existed together. The past with the future. How fitting.
Despite being tired right through to her bones, she couldn’t imagine that Zeus was being considerate. Byron, for one, had been jaunting all over the planet for most of his life and would know how to deal with switching time zones. He didn’t point out her rookie status as an international traveler, but he had to be thinking it. No doubt he could tell from looking at her that she was wiped.
Which would be the better course? To get in Zeus’s face and tell him what she thought of him and his apparent plan or rest first? Tiredness would lower her inhibitions, which could work for or against her. She didn’t want to reveal anything Daire had told her in confidence or pull her punches.
Sleeping would be the best idea. It would be too easy for Zeus to triumph over her without it. Except going to bed, settling in, may appear that she accepted his hospitality like she hadn’t just been stolen across the ocean against her will.
Her senses weren’t at their height. Her feet were dragging and her head aching. It could be the stress of what was to come or the journey they’d just undertaken. More likely it was the strain of trying not to dwell on what they’d left behind. Who they’d left behind.
Noon in London. What time would it be in Vegas? One thing was for sure: it was dark in Nevada. If she wasn’t in the desert house before dark, the rules had been broken. Her father and Daire would know something was going on. Maybe they were just figuring it out.
The elevator doors opened. They went through two sets of double doors, one from the hallway, the next into a well-lit residence foyer. The grey rug, dark furniture, and pale grey walls didn’t scream warm welcome. They went past two open black doors and down a sleek hall. Some guy in a uniform was just standing there waiting to open a door for them. Maybe it was an apartment, could be a hotel, she didn’t know.
“This is your room,” Byron said, stopping just outside it. “We’ll come and get you when it’s time for dinner.”
No doubt dinner would involve meeting Zeus.
She paused to glance around. “Where’s my bag?”
“Someone will bring it to you.”
“No,” she said, vehement in pinning her eyes on Byron. “You want me to play along? Give me that bag now.”
Byron nodded at the man in uniform and he scampered away.
“There is no phone in your room,” Byron said. “But you will be allowed to talk to your father.”
That wasn’t exactly specific. Talk to him when? What the hell would she say? Any communications from Zeus’s dwelling could, and probably would, be monitored. Even if they pretended to give her privacy, she wouldn’t trust it.
Harry may not be innocent in what had happened. Hugo said her father knew; she wasn’t so sure about that. She couldn’t be sure about anything.
The uniformed guy came running back with her bag in front of him. He must have intercepted whoever was bringing the luggage from the car. Without a word, she took the bag and went into the room.
At least the door had a lock. Given her exhaustion, she might zonk out completely. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to come in while she slept.
She dumped the bag on the bed and rooted around inside for what nestled in the bottom: Daire’s tee-shirt. Crawling up the bed to flop onto her back, the pillows caught her head. Burying her face in his shirt, she closed her eyes to reassure herself everything would work out.
He’d be going crazy. If he loved her, he’d be worried. His scent filled her senses and unwound her muscles. Somehow, they’d see each other again. She had to believe that. She had to.
In a foreign country, without a passport or ID or any proof that she was a US citizen, how could she save herself? Daire had said play along. For now, she didn’t have any other choice.
SOMEONE KNOCKED ON the door, yanking Tess from a deep slumber. It was dark. She couldn’t see, couldn’t remember. Still, Daire was nearby, so she was okay. No, wait. The smell came from the shirt wound around her arm, draped on the pillow.
She sat up to look around. The window was only half covered. There were lights outside, but no sound.
The knock came again.
Zeus. Right. They were in Europe. In a weird hotel or apartment or something. Byron. Hugo. Everything came back slowly.
“Yeah,” she called out to whoever was knocking to let them know she was awake.
The word provoked a memory. Raising his shirt, she pushed her face into it, cradling it in both hands.
Whoever was on the other side of the door announced, “Dinner will be served in an hour.”
The voice wasn’t familiar or American. Zeus wouldn’t run errands himself; their host must have a staff.
“Thank you,” Tess called, pleased that whoever they were, they didn’t expect her to present herself straight away.
She wanted a shower, needed to explore, needed to figure out what the hell was going on. Zeus had planned this. The guy was ten steps ahead.
Dropping her weight onto the bed, she tossed Daire’s shirt on her face and closed her eyes. She should get up. Look around, get her head in the game. Coming round from sleep was taking a while. Maybe because there wasn’t anything worth getting up for.
What would Zeus want her to do? Put a bullet in his head? Wouldn’t it be ironic if she finished what the highly trained Olympus operatives couldn’t? Byron and Hugo might not like it, so she may have to take them out too. That would be fine. Murderess-at-large… hardly her style.
And there were logistics to consider. With the staff, people in the lobby, and drivers outside, she’d have trouble disposing of bodies… not that she knew how to do that. If Daire was around, he’d have a plan, he’d be in charge already.
Maybe if she got herself arrested, her Heart would show up to break her out. Could be that causing an international incident was inevitable.
Damnit.
She rolled off the bed and tossed Daire’s shirt back to her bag.
Determined. Focused. Sure. She didn’t have the luxury of lazing around or letting anyone else take charge.
The room was an odd shape with walls that met at different angles. Like a trapezoid with a corridor leading off it. That corridor gave access to a long closet with a bathroom beyond. With a full-size tub built into the marble and a separate glass walk-in shower, it was obvious no expense had been spared.
London was an expensive city to live in. One of the most expensive. The space was nothing to what they’d had in Hugo’s desert house, but it was bigger than the Beast. Funny then that the Beast was the only place on Earth she wanted to be.
After checking there were necessaries in the bathroom, she retreated to the closet and discovered outfits inside. Clothes had been bought for her, without her input… again. If any of the men knew or respected her, they’d fill closets with fabrics and let her work.
She didn’t want to think about how long she may be separated from her Heart, at the mercy of Zeus and his benefactors. The clothes suggested it could be a while.
They were more respectable than the garments that had been purchased for her in Vegas. That could be chalked up to the climate. London wasn’t as humid as the desert.
Picking out pants and a knitted sweater, Tess located a towel and went into the bathroom. Bath or shower? In the tub, she could forget her worries and make believe she was still in Vegas. But the shower would steam up obscuring her nakedness. Knowing so little about Zeus, she couldn’t guess as to how far he’d go on the surveillance score.
Bathing was as much about cleansing her body as her mind. Anything could be important, any detail relevant. She might not know or understand why, but she had to be ready in case the chance to talk to Daire came up.
Today, tomorrow, whenever she next saw her Heart, she would be ready to tell him everything. Staying alive was her primary mission. She had to see him again. The hope of that, the possibility of being reunited with him, would keep her going. Daire was a guiding light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel Byron and Hugo had led her down.