The Maze (ATCOM) Page 7

  Carlos walked toward her, at ease in his designer suit. As he approached, she squared her shoulders, determined not to let him see how much he’d shaken her.

  “Ah, Atalanta, how nice it is to have you with me once again.”

  Attie fought the urge to pull back when he clasped her hand in his and lifted it to his lips for a kiss. Her skin crawled in remembrance of the time he had lifted her hand in much the same manner but instead of kissing it, had bitten her hard enough to draw blood. Then laved it with his tongue.

  “What’s this? Calluses? Just what have you been doing to yourself in your absence,” he asked, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles.

  Attie pulled her hand away. “What I do is no longer your concern, Carlos.”

  “I disagree. Your well-being has always been, and always will be, my concern. Your skin is too lovely to be callused. It should remain smooth as silk.”

  “You ruined that for me when you decided to imprison me.”

  Something flickered in Carlos’s eyes, but he masked it quickly.

  “Let’s not discuss it now. My cook has prepared a fine meal.” His gaze landed on Noah. “Mr. Deason, I presume?”

  Attie turned slightly, steadying her breathing, reining in her emotions. She wouldn’t let Carlos see how he affected her. For Brendan’s sake she had to keep her wits about her no matter what Carlos did. She could handle this. She wasn’t Chrystal now; she could defend herself.

  She glanced at Noah and the tailored suit he wore. She had never seen him in anything but fatigues. The transformation made her swallow hard. His damp hair curled around his collar. The dark jacket fit him like a glove and accented his broad, well-muscled shoulders. The crisp, white shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, and slacks hugged his long legs.

  Attie tore her eyes away, focusing on Carlos once again. She didn’t need him seeing her attraction for Noah. He would use it against her. Against Noah. She tried to deny it, but every time she looked at him it hit her like a wrecking ball, crashing through her defenses, making her want things she couldn’t have.

  Noah and Carlos were sizing each other up, measuring, betraying nothing.

  Carlos spoke first. “I think we are both honest men and we both know the name you gave me was fake. I will find out your true identity so, please, save me the time,” he said. “What shall I call you?”

  Attie resisted the urge to scoff. Noah was as honest as they came, but Carlos was far from it.

  “Noah.”

  “Just Noah?”

  Noah shrugged and Attie glanced at Carlos to see how he was taking this taciturn man. Carlos was accustomed to being obeyed, no questions asked. To her surprise, he didn’t seem fazed. Not a good sign. The more pleasant and accommodating Carlos became, the more dangerous the situation.

  Carlos nodded. “I guess it will have to do for now. So tell me, Noah, are you sleeping with Atalanta?”

  “What?” Attie gasped in outrage. “You—”

  “Tsk, Tsk. You know it surprises me you were able to hide your fiery spirit from me for so long. It must have been difficult for you. I commend your ability to blindside me, but I promise you, it won’t happen again. Now, Noah, your answer please.”

  Attie wanted to slap that smug expression off his face. Carlos never lost his temper. He only grew more pleasant, oozing charm when he was angry, then retaliating by turning into a monster. A modern day Jekyll and Hyde. The please at the end terrified her.

  Noah answered before she got the chance. “That is none of your business.”

  “But it is.”

  The two men faced each other. Tension could be sliced with a knife. Carlos was tall, but Noah was taller and broader and more muscular. Both men were dangerous in their own way. Attie knew how Carlos operated and she’d seen Noah in action. A confrontation between them wasn’t something she ever wanted to see.

  “She’s a beautiful woman, isn’t she?” Carlos asked him.

  “If you like stubborn redheads,” Noah replied smoothly.

  Carlos smiled. “She is a bit temperamental, isn’t she? I rather enjoy the challenge. Between us, by time this is over I think we’re going to be seeing just how fiery her temper can be.”

  Attie’s heart pounded. That could only mean bad things.

  “Come, let’s eat.”

  Carlos turned away, but Attie stopped him. “Where is my brother, Carlos?”

  He stopped short. “You know I never discuss business during dinner. Have you forgotten all I taught you?”

  She went rigid. “I’m not hungry. Let’s skip dinner and get down to business. Where’s Brendan?”

  “In good time. Now, don’t press the issue. You remember how prickly I get. I’ve saved you a chair beside me. Noah, you sit across from Atalanta in Antonio’s chair.”

  His softly given reminder had Attie backing down. She stalked toward her chair, and then stopped short when she noticed the man pushing to his feet.

  “Antonio,” she said in surprise, watching him stand. The architect that ATCOM hadn’t been able to dig up any dirt on. He was exactly what he claimed. An architect. They’d never been able to connect him with Carlos’s illegal dealings.

  Antonio came around the table to meet her, arms extended. He took her hands and pressed a kiss to the knuckles, the same as he had every time he greeted her in the past. His wariness of her had never worn off; she could see it in his dark eyes now.

  “How nice to see you again, Atalanta. How do you like my project?”

  Attie frowned. “You did this?”

  Antonio nodded. “Designed and crafted by my own hand just for our friend.”

  Of course.

  “Well, what do you think so far?” Antonio asked.

  Carlos prevented her from answering. “Sit, everyone. Dinner is served.”

  Once they were seated, an array of food was placed on the table by servants. The scent of grilled salmon and roasted baby potatoes beckoned Attie even though she claimed not to be hungry. She ate knowing she would need her strength later.

  When their plates had been cleared and the servants left the room, Attie pressed for answers.

  “Okay, Carlos, where’s Brendan? It couldn’t have been easy getting him here.”

  “No. In fact, if your brother didn’t have such affection for women I doubt I would have succeeded. You have the same eyes.”

  “Stop stalling. I want to see him.”

  “There’s no rush. We have plenty of time before the games begin.”

  Attie’s heart missed a beat. “Games?” she echoed.

  “Of course. You don’t think I’d go to such lengths for nothing, do you? You should know me better than that, mi amor.”

  “I am not your love,” Attie snapped.

  Carlos turned to Noah. “Atalanta is the only woman I have ever truly loved. Have you ever been in love, Noah?”

  Noah avoided looking at her when he answered. “No.”

  Carlos seemed almost saddened by his answer. “Well, that’s too bad. I can’t expect you to understand how deeply Atalanta’s betrayal hurt me. Only a man who has loved and lost can understand.”

  “Cut the theatrics, Carlos. You didn’t love me,” Attie scoffed. “You never even took me to your bed.”

  That was the wrong thing to say. Carlos sent her a warm smile that sent a shiver down her spine. She had doubted him until now. In his deluded mind he’d thought he loved her. The thought made her skin crawl.

  What they’d had was love to Carlos? She’d been nothing but a possession to him. Something to flaunt and use. A toy to play with. So what could he have fallen in love with? She hadn’t been allowed to speak her mind or have an opinion, so who did he think he’d fallen for? A ditzy, spineless piece of furniture his friends wished they had? Something to make them envious.

  Was that what Carlos liked? A woman without a backbone, who bowed to his every whim? Well, he was in for a surprise.

  “Our time was cut short, if you’ll recall. You really don’t know me, do you?�
�� Carlos murmured.

  Attie remained silent, still reeling over his admission.

  “I intend to change that,” Carlos continued.

  She shook her head, coming out of her reverie. “You didn’t fall in love with me, Carlos. You fell in love with Chrystal, and she doesn’t exist.”

  “You’re wrong. I know exactly who you are and I like what I see even more. I have not forgiven you for your betrayal, I’m sure you’re aware of that, but I intend to give you a chance to make it up to me. You tried to destroy me, Atalanta, and for that I must repay in kind.”

  Chapter 7

  Noah watched Attie’s eyes widen.

  “I only wish I had,” Attie whispered. She had gone deathly pale.

  “Many have tried,” Carlos said, “although you came closer than any of them.”

  Attie gripped the stem of her wine glass with a hand that shook. Considering the traumatic events she’d suffered the past three days, she was holding up remarkably well. She kept her emotions at bay and handled Santiago with care. Noah knew what it cost her. If it weren’t for Brendan he bet she’d be acting more irrationally toward the man who claimed to love her. The admission had caught him off guard. It must be wreaking havoc on Attie. An unexpected turn of events that neither of them had been ready for. Revenge had been expected. No one tried to destroy Carlos Santiago and lived to tell about it. But not the confession. That had blindsided both of them.

  “What do you have planned for me, Carlos?” Attie asked in a tight voice.

  “I’m interested in your career. Tell me, did your training make it easy for you to betray me?”

  “I didn’t do anything to you that you didn’t deserve. You destroy lives with the career path you’ve taken.”

  Carlos appeared unperturbed by her hostile tone. “As do you, mi amor. I, however, fund many charity organizations in my country. I have donated money to the building of schools and churches—”

  “Blood money,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “You couldn’t possibly understand since you are tainted by your righteous code of honor and the will to do what’s right in the eyes of your country.”

  “What I do is honorable. What you do is illegal.”

  “What you call honorable I call deceitful.”

  Noah watched sparks fly between the two. Attie glared at Carlos, while Carlos simply smiled that annoyingly pleasant smile.

  The door slid open before either of them could continue their crusade. A dark-haired woman entered carrying a bottle of chilled wine. She wasn’t one of the servants from earlier; she was much younger and prettier in a small, strapless dress that clung to her lush curves. Carlos motioned her forward. With a smile and a nod she swayed toward Antonio. She leaned over him and poured wine into his glass. Antonio’s hand lingered on her backside. Then she moved to Noah’s side, eying him with interest as she filled his glass, giving him full view of her ample bust. Her smile suggested he take his fill, her dark eyes seductive.

  Giving her a curt nod, Noah turned his eyes to Attie, surprised to see a flicker of contempt and…jealousy? No, he doubted he’d read that right. Attie resented him, but she wouldn’t be jealous over the flirtations of a younger woman. He certainly wasn’t interested in being serviced by one of Santiago’s women.

  She looked away before he could decipher and said to Carlos, “I had a job to do. It’s not my problem if you were deceived.”

  Carlos let the barb pass, seeming to enjoy the banter. “Job well done,” he said, nodding to the woman offering to fill his wine glass. None of them could miss the way her eyes lingered on Noah as she did.

  “See something you like, Lolita?” Carlos asked in Spanish, watching those red lips turn up with pleasure.

  “Si,” she purred.

  Noah sipped his wine, having no intentions of accepting favors from this woman. The fire burning in Attie’s eyes indicated she’d overheard too. A look of complete disgust crossed her face before she masked it.

  Lolita moved to Attie’s side, her smile gone. Attie shook her head in refusal of more wine and she moved away, casting one last glance at Noah over her shoulder.

  “Tell me, Atalanta, do you think I can break you this time?”

  Noah stiffened. Nothing like a sucker punch out of left field. He watched Attie go very still as the color drained out of her face, leaving her with a ghostly pallor. The bruise on her jaw stood out more vividly against the white of her skin, making her appear more vulnerable. Shock registered in her eyes, along with haunted memories of the last time Santiago had tried to break her. Hell, the memory haunted him. He couldn’t imagine what it was doing to her. Giving Santiago any ammunition to use against him would be dangerous, so he stayed in his seat and watched Attie, offering silent support.

  “That bothers you, doesn’t it, Carlos, that you couldn’t break me?” she asked in a low, taunting voice. “You were deceived by a woman that proved to be stronger than anything you served up. I survived, you bastard, and I’ll survive again, so let’s see what it is you have ‘planned’ for me, because I guarantee I will make it through and I will get out of here with my brother.”

  For all of her bravado, she shook like a leaf. Noah saw the tremors in her shoulders and the way she fisted her hands together on top of the table, but he was proud of her. She stood up to Santiago despite her fear. This was the Attie he knew.

  A muscle clenched in Santiago’s jaw. He wasn’t unaffected by Attie’s promise or her show of strength. She had gusto and she meant what she said, but everyone in the room knew if she had spent any more time in that cell she would have been broken. Attie was a strong person, and God knew what Santiago would have had to do to accomplish it.

  “Impatient, are we? That will make things very interesting. I’m quite proud of what Antonio has done here for me. He’s been working on it for a very long time.”

  “I’m flattered,” Attie said, casting a glance at Antonio, irony in her tone. “What is it?”

  “Something that is guaranteed to break your deliciously fiery spirit.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Never doubt my words. You know I never say things I don’t mean.”

  “Yes, I remember,” Attie said, clenching and unclenching her fists on the table.

  “For starters you need to get into the right frame of mind. You, as you already know, are the guest of honor. Maybe this will help. Think of this as a game of cat and mouse. This…” Carlos motioned to the room around him. “Is the maze. You’ve seen them, a maze of doors for an experimental mouse to go through to get to the reward—the cheese, or Brendan in this case. You are the mouse in the maze and I, the cat. You see, we all have a role and I look forward to seeing you in yours.”

  “That would make sense if I knew what the hell you were talking about. Cut the metaphors. What have you got for me?”

  “Soon, I promise. I’d like to get to know your friend a little better before we get started.”

  “This isn’t about him.”

  “Oh no?”

  “No, it’s between you and me. Why don’t you let him go.”

  Carlos raised a slim brow. “And allow him to return with reinforcements? I am not a fool, Atalanta. I think Noah will add a certain element to what I have planned.”

  “I don’t want him involved.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have brought him along.”

  Attie cast a scorching glance toward Noah, who raised an eyebrow in return.

  Mistaking the tension between them, Carlos said, “I can get rid of him if you wish.”

  Noah cocked his head, waiting for her answer.

  “If I say no,” she said, “What will you do with him?”

  “Allow him to join in the fun. He may come in handy.”

  “How so?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” he said turning to Noah. “Tell me, Noah, since you aren’t sleeping with Atalanta, would you like to sample Lolita? She’s very interested in you, and very…talented.”


  “I never said we weren’t sleeping together,” Noah replied.

  “So you didn’t. I guess you never said either way, did you? Shall I have her sent to your room?”

  “I’ll pass, thanks.”

  “Maybe you prefer a blonde?”

  “No.”

  “Me neither. I’m partial to redheads. They are so much more…exciting. Do you know the meaning behind Atalanta’s name?”

  Noah glanced at Attie. “No, I don’t.”

  “It’s Greek for the mighty huntress, an athletic young woman who refused to marry any man who could not outrun her in a footrace. It seems our Atalanta runs like the wind.”

  “Indeed,” Noah murmured.

  “Enough,” Attie snapped, “I want proof Brendan is alive. Let me see him, Carlos.”

  “I have never lied to you. He is alive and well.”

  “You better not lay a hand on him.”

  “The same thing he said about you. The two of you must be very close.”

  Attie refused to answer.

  “Humor me. Tell me about your brother.”

  “No.”

  “He’s lacking your temper, but possesses the same stubborn nature.”

  No reply.

  “Well, this is going nowhere. I have something for you.” Carlos motioned toward the man standing in the shadows near the door. He stepped forward carrying a long, narrow black velvet box. Santiago took the box and handed it to Attie, who had gone deathly pale.

  “Mi amor, a gift.”

  Attie shook her head. “I don’t want that.”

  “I insist. Please.”

  Santiago’s tone was pleasant enough, but Attie’s hand trembled as she reached out to the take the box. Then sat back in her chair and slowly lifted the lid. She inhaled sharply.

  “You bastard,” she whispered before flinging the box across the room and standing so quickly she toppled her chair. It clattered loudly to the floor, breaking the silence.

  “I am not wearing that,” she declared, her voice rising. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and a pulse beat wildly at her throat. “You’ll have to kill me first.”