“Caitlyn!” The lump of stone that had become his heart leapt into Duke’s throat with ringing alarm.
“Shut your mouth, you worthless whore!” Alex jerked the pistol at her furiously. “How dare you even speak to me like that!?”
A soft gasp escaped her and she took a step backwards, closer to Duke and the meager amount of safety he presented as Alex advanced on her. She'd intended to provoke him. This was a much bigger reaction than she'd anticipated.
“You have no idea! No fucking idea how I felt having to squat just to stand in your shadow!” His vicious words spat at her through clenched teeth. His bourgeoning rage scorched over her, filling the tiny antechamber with its malevolent presence.
“You don’t know what it’s like to have your life’s work—the epitome of your creativity and intelligence— shown up and disproven by some pathetic little girl who refuses to see potential! To watch as you dusted your hands of it, like everything I did wa
“Alex!” she breathed, starting forward when he raised a violently shaking hand towards her. His thin mouth opened in silent accusation and supplication. Then both Dex and Duke were turning her, one on each upper arm with a firm grip. They propelled her swiftly through the hidden door. “Duke, the latch,” Dex ordered as they rushed into the narrow passageway. He pointed at the door, then reached for the switch to reconnect his communication equipment. “Knight 2 and 3. Asset acquired. Allie, we could use an exit plan.” As Duke released her, Caitlyn jerked herself free of Dex’s grasp. She flung herself at the door. “No! He needs my help!” Ramming the bolt home, he pivoted and grasped her by the upper arms. “Caitlyn!” he snapped harshly, shaking her once to get her attention as the light dimmed to nothingness. “No matter what he did to stay alive before, you can’t save him now.” “You don’t know that!” she cried to the darkness.
Caitlyn heaved forcefully as the choking fumes were piped down her throat and into her lungs, singing the sensitive passageways. She collapsed into the muck in a spasming heap. “Duke!” Squeezing onto his side, Dex dragged himself alongside the hacking, weakly thrashing woman as she clawed at her throat. Glancing back, Duke cursed. “Can you pull her?” Another rumbling explosion rocked the tunnel. This time, bits of dust and pebbles tumbled from between the stones above them. “Oh hell.” “Uh-huh. Got it.” Dex wrapped an arm around the floundering woman’s hips and braced his feet on opposite sides of the tunnel. With one arm and using the slime on the bottom to reduce the friction from their weight, he inched them both toward the exit. In the lead, Duke watched the struggling pair, debating whether he should go ahead and prepare for the jump to their escape or wait until they caught up so he could take Caitlyn from the other man. Both thoughts were immedi
“Mr. Ellis,” the low voice droned, filling the small sitting. It belonged to a man clearly used to issuing orders that were obeyed. For a call of this magnitude, Allie had gathered their ragtag band— Jay, Duke, Caitlyn and herself—in her suite on the Italian Riviera. When it was all said and done, it had been easier getting to the awaiting boat than Caitlyn had anticipated. Of course, gravity tended to work that way. As soon as Dex had placed a portion of his weight upon it, as Duke had anticipated, the damaged and rusted grate over the collapsing drainage shaft had groaned loudly then given way, unceremoniously dumping the three of them into the open air. Immediately, Duke had deployed the parachute to slow their fall. The fire-heated sea drafts had carried them in a descending spiral, out over the frigid water of the Adriatic where they’d landed safely. Dex slipped the makeshift harness before they’d resurfaced and struck hard for the boat, bringing it along
Turning the knob slowly, Duke eased the latch free and peered around the door into the bedroom of his suite with Caitlyn. Piercing green eyes landed instinctively on the bed, where she lay with her back to him. Her knees were curled up towards her chest, her shoulders rolled forward almost protectively. Closing the door as silently as he’d opened it, he covered the few paces to the bedside without a sound. She’d slept a lot in the last few days—healing, she’d told him. It was a sentiment reiterated by the medic with Jay’s team. But even though something about that sat wrong with him, he wasn’t going to wake her. If she was able to sleep, then her body needed the rest. All he needed was to be close to her, even if that didn’t involve touching or holding her. He’d have preferred if it involved touching and holding her. He wanted to saturate himself in her beauty, in the yielding sweetness of her warm body, to let his own stress and fear dissipate. Even if only for a little while. Al
Tucking the thin parcel under his arm to hold it, Duke pressed his thumb against the biometric security lock at the lab door, then entered his security code. When the door released, he pulled it open, then closed behind him. He stopped in the entry room, juggling Caitlyn’s package between hands to don his long, white lab coat and a pair of safety glasses. “Hey Paula.” He gave his wife’s lab worker a polite smile and nod as he passed through the wet lab between the aquarium racks teeming with zebra fish. “Hi Duke. She’s in at the microscope.” “Thanks.” On the opposite side of the room, he passed through another door into the main laboratory space, a generous work area with water-resistant flooring, provisions for tissue cultures, microscopy, cell cultures and chemical prep rooms outfitted with biological safety cabinets. Immediately, he spotted his wife. As he’d been advised, Caitlyn was seated at one of the sturdy laboratory tables before a microscope
“Good morning. Welcome to The Duke Agency.” Caitlyn flicked a quick, self-conscious smile at the overly-cheery receptionist as she stepped off the elevator into The Duke Agency’s plush lobby. “Yes. To you also,” she replied hesitantly. “I’m Caitlyn Maddox. I have an appointment this morning with—.” Eagerly, the girl behind the enormous marble reception desk clasped her hands together beneath her chin and her smile grew brighter. “With Rachel!” Caitlyn startled slightly at the younger woman’s excited outburst, watching with wide-eyes her sudden scurrying movements behind the desk. “Oh, you’re so lucky! She’s our very best coordinator. You’re just going to love her,” the girl continued, quickly gathering a neat package of papers together in a folder tabbed with Caitlyn’s name. “I swear, she’s got a magic touch when it comes to coordinating the right Duke with a client. You couldn’t be in better hands. If you’ll just follow me.” Rooted to her spot by the sudden burst of frenetic ac
“Good grief.” Rising, Caitlyn took a step towards the windows and stretched her back, yawning. “Thick hair. Thin hair. Curly hair. Straight hair. Long hair. Short hair. No hair. Brown. Blond. Black. Red. Who cares this much about hair?” she groaned. “I just want someone I can talk to and appreciate Italy with for sixteen days. How can the rest of this stuff possibly matter?” Spying her through the glass wall, Rachel rose and came back to the room quickly. “Everything alright? Oh.” She did a double-take, glancing at the computer-generated composite image emerging agonizingly slow from the ceaseless stream of intrusive questions Caitlyn had been trying to answer since this morning. “Wow. You have impeccable taste.” Caitlyn inhaled deeply. “You said to answer the questions truthfully. Th-the more truthful the answers, the—.” “The better the match,” Rachel finished, repeating the instructions she’d given before lunch. “That’s true. What I didn’t expect is how qui
“Final call for boarding. Flight 175 to Philadelphia at gate B34,” a gate attendant announced over the loudspeaker as Caitlyn strolled her carry-on past, searching the signs overhead for her own gate number. “Passenger D. Carter, that’s passenger D. Carter, please. D. Carter, report to the ticketing counter at gate B37, please,” urged another voice. Despite the early hour, the airport was already bustling with activity. People chattered to one another from the nearby seating areas, or rushed by headed for other connections—some searching overhead, like her, and others with their faces buried in their phones. Turning sideways, she quickly dodged one such oblivious traveler, a tall, handsome young man dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts in a particularly careless rush. “I beg your pardon,” she mumbled as he brushed past without even noticing her. Stopping, she watched his retreating figure and felt the butterflies leap in her belly. Obv