Savages Recruit (21 page)

“Tourists who fight terrorists?” Zora quipped with a grin, which faded quickly as Savage shook his head sternly.

“No. You don't say that word again, understand? You don't say anything about anything to do with the mission. You call me Brett and you call everyone else by their first names too, got it?”

“Got it,” Zora nodded.

“Good.” Savage looked up and addressed the team. “Okay, as planned, Archie and Anja, you two are coupled up. Zora's with me. Tank, Brian and Steve, you lot are off on the stag trip.”

“Woo, titty bars!” Tank punched the air. “For cover, right?”

“Right,” Savage said, shrugging as if it didn't much matter to him what they did. “Just show up when you're needed.”

“What's our cover?” Zora asked curiously. Savage grinned and fished in his pocket. “You, Ms Zora,” he said, taking her hand and sliding a gold ring on to the finger next to the pinky,“will be my new bride. We're on our honeymoon, see? Mr and Mrs Brown.”

Zora blushed as Savage slid the band onto her ring finger, feeling a little thrill of possession run through her. It wasn't real of course, couldn't be real, but pretending was nice. “What are Anja and Archie supposed to be?” She changed the subject slightly so he wouldn't see just how pleased she was to pretend to be his wife.

“Archie and Anja are college kids on a culture break paid for by their indulgent parents,” Savage explained. “So we will split up now. Stags take the Toyota, kids get the Mitzi, and we'll take the Jag.” If Zora's grin had been any wider, it would have split her face in two. Here she was in beautiful Greece with Savage by her side playing her husband, no less. Even better, Anja was being sent off with Archie and wouldn't be bothering her anymore. “You look like the cat the got the cream,” Savage lowered his head and murmured in her ear.

“I'm just looking forward to the wedding night,” Zora batted her eyelashes as she pressed her body into his, grinding her hips rather shamelessly against his thigh. She didn't need any encouragement whatsoever to go along with their cover. Nor did Savage, it seemed.

“Oh I bet you are,” he purred, his hand sliding down her back to squeeze her bottom. “We just need to get you into a dress,” he said, running a critical eye over her. “Something that says 'honeymoon', not 'amateur criminal'.”

Zora rolled her eyes. He had to ruin it by trying to make her into a girly girl. “Maybe we need to get you into a dress,” she responded pertly. “Ow!” She cried out as Savage's big, hard palm came crashing down against her bottom.

“That's more than enough of your cheek, young lady,” he said gruffly, opening the door of the car Brian had delivered safely down the ramp. It was a sleek royal blue Jag that Zora rather liked, not too modern, not too old. She got into the passenger seat quite happily. If this was what going on top secret mission was like she could definitely get behind it.

She watched through the windscreen as the rest of the team split into their respective groups. Anja and Archie made a cute couple. They were both young enough to pass as college students and both good looking in a predictable sort of way. As for Tank, Steve and Brian, they piled into the van quite eagerly, no doubt anticipating the pleasures of pretending to be on an extended stag do almost as much as she was anticipating spending the night with Savage in a honeymoon suite.

“Right,” Savage got into the driver's side. “Let's get out of here.”

The three vehicles set out in three different directions so as not to bring suspicion upon themselves as they crossed over the border from Greece to Bulgaria. Within just a few minutes, Zora and Savage were alone on the road. Zora was over the moon. The smile did not leave her face as she looked out over the fields bathed in the same bright sunshine she imagined once fell upon the faces of the famous ancient Greeks. “This is awesome,” she said, kicking off her shoes and putting her socked feet up on the dash. “Full marks for the cover story.”

Savage smiled over at her and winked rakishly. “Thank you,” he said, changing down gear smoothly as they encountered some rougher road. “We will of course, have to play our roles fully.” His voice was thick with welcome innuendo, his eyes hungry as he glanced over at her and slid his hand over her thigh and up to her crotch in a brief, sweeping caress that made her moan.

“No great hardship,” Zora said, squirming in her seat happily. She was warm, she was happy and she was about to spend the evening in private luxury with the man of her dreams. She decided then and there that if she ever met any of those Bulgarian terrorists, she would shake them by the hand.

Chapter Fourteen

In the ancient settlement city of Haskovo, events were taking place in a luxurious honeymoon apartment decorated with portraits of Cupid and dominated by a super king size four poster bed draped with the kind of decorative fabric that would have made it seem quite at home anywhere from the first century to the twenty first century. Dimly lit with the soft glow of bulbs designed to look like candles, the tussled sheets strewn across the bed spoke to the lust that had recently been shared there.

Zora stood in front of a table, frowning down at a series of drawings and photographs of ugly buildings. She was wearing nothing but an oversized sweatshirt bought from the gift shop to cover her nakedness, her hair scraped back in a severe ponytail, her legs bare. From time to time, she nibbled at a fingernail and shuffled a picture here or there. The faint sound of a running shower emanated from the background as she applied herself to her studies.

Several minutes later, Savage emerged from the shower barely clad  in a complimentary silk robe. He padded across the thickly carpeted room and wrapped his arms around her midsection from behind, squeezing her against his torso. “Are you ready?” He purred the question into her ear, almost making it sound like an invitation to further pleasure, though it was anything but. To the causal observer perched on the rooftop across the road with a pair of binoculars, they might have looked like lovers casually enjoying one another's company, but the truth of the matter was that they were about to embark on the mission that had brought them halfway around the world.

“Always,” Zora replied with the utmost bravado, smoothing her palm over the rough hair that covered the backs of his muscular forearms. She'd come to know every inch of his body in the past week, and she was still awed by the gorgeous but functional power the man possessed. He'd been hewn into shape by the challenges of a lifetime and when she ran her fingers across his scar marked skin, she fancied she could sense some of the pains he must have endured in a world of danger that she was now part of.

They had traveled through Greece and crossed the Bulgarian border without incident. Their cover had not been difficult to maintain. Given free reign to express their affection and desire, there had barely been a moment in the past week that they hadn't had their hands all over each other's bodies. Zora had almost forgotten the mission at hand, until Savage pulled out a series of schematics in Haskovo and had her study them every evening before they made love, and sometimes afterward too.

Now he turned her in his arms, took her by the hand and undid her watch. “Remember. No electronics. No watch. No phone. Nothing. If the system picks up on any electromagnetic activity at all, it locks down.” He caught her eye. “With you inside.”

Zora paled ever so slightly. “And if that happens? You'll come and save me?”

“We'll try, but they'll have you first, and you really don't want that. So let's just make sure you don't carry anything in there that might set the system off.” He smiled reassuringly and Zora's concern melted away. This was the madness of early lust and early love. Her faith in the man now busy wanding her for traces of electromagnetic activity was so complete she would have walked into the fires of hell if he'd told her to. As he ran the detector over her body, she caught flashes of his fine physique through the gaps in his robes. Just the sight of the man made her loins tingle.

As Zora obligingly stayed in place, ogling him for all she was worth, Savage ran through the finer details one last time. “Your name is General Ekaterina Vlovich. You're a military inspector. The uniform you're wearing gives you the kind of rank these people dream of.”

“So the terrorists are the military?”

“Not quite. They're connected in some areas. It's hard to get the kind of hardware and systems these people have without military hookups. We're sending you in as an authority. If anyone questions you, glare at them.”

“Glare at them?” Zora spluttered. “That's your advice?”

“You've got a good glare on you,” Savage assured her. “If that doesn't work, there will be backup.”

“Wait wait wait,” Zora waved her hands in front of her face and shook her head. “That doesn't make sense. There will be backup if my glaring fails, but not if the whole thing shuts down?”

Savage kept going through the preparatory motions, his large, strong hands moving over her body  as he ignored her little display of incredulity. “It's easier to get someone to confirm your identity than it is to storm the place. Take off your sweater.”

Stripped down to her bra, Zora stood in place as Savage fitted a light bullet proof vest over her head. “Stab proof and bullet proof,” he said, gently pressing a closed fist against it.

Poking it with a finger, Zora saw a flaw in this part of the plan too. “Unless they stab or shoot you not in the chest.”

“They'll go for the chest first,” he said. “Center mass is the most reliable place to take someone down...”

She smirked as she interrupted him. “...unless they're wearing a bullet proof vest.”

“Quit being a smart-ass,” Savage resorted to the last defense of an authority who knows they've lost the argument but is pretty sure that they're in the right regardless. “Usually I'd put a camera on you, but that's not going to work for obvious reasons. You'll be alone when you go in, but the team will be around. You might see a few of them there. Under no circumstances can you acknowledge that you know any of them, understand? You get in there, you deactivate the system and you get out.”

Nodding, Zora looked back over at the layout schematics unrolled on the hotel table. She'd looked at it a hundred times over the last few days. The system control room was marked with three red concentric circles. The entrance of the base was marked with a gold star just like the ones she'd received on school projects as a child. As it had turned out, the security system for the missile wasn't on location with the actual missile, rather it was at the evil doers' HQ in the heart of Haskovo. Both missile site and security system were protected by the same electromagnetic sensor system, and triggering it at either location could lead to disaster, though shutting the system down at HQ left the missile completely vulnerable.

The path to the room itself wasn't terribly difficult to navigate, at least in theory. You went in the front doors, past the reception area and down the hall to the left. The system controls weren't heavily guarded, but the lobby was and the second floor doubled as barracks. They didn't need guards on every door to keep the place safe. If the slightest suspicious activity were detected, there was enough personnel on hand to ensure that it would be all over in minutes for anyone foolish enough to try to break in. With just one viable entrance and exit, the building was incredibly secure. Breaking in by force or stealth would have been an exercise in futility. The only way in was through the front door, and that was the way Zora was going to take. It was brazen, it was bold and it was risky as hell.

“You okay?” Savage gripped her by the chin and looked deep into her eyes, scanning them for any traces of anxiety or panic.

“I'll be fine.” Zora meant it. Terrorists aside, this was a matter of walking into a building and solving an equation. She could do that. She had to do that. To prove that she could. To prove that Anja was wrong. To prove to Savage that she was capable of keeping up with him. To prove to herself that she was the equal of any of them. Oh, and to save the world. “I just need a drink,” she teased.

“You do this, you can drink as much as you want,” he promised. “Within reason,” he amended quickly, seeing a familiar gleam come into her eyes. “Time to get into uniform,” he said, reaching into the closet and pulling out what was quite possibly the most unflattering uniform ever designed by man.

He handed her the uniform and proceeded to get dressed himself in a neat pair of black slacks, a white shirt, dark tie and black jacket. The look was completed with a peaked cap that made him look like a charming manservant.

Wrinkling her nose at her fashion misfortune, Zora put on a pair of thick beige pantyhose and an ill fitting olive green skirt with matching shirt. The black shoes that went with the outfit were thick soled and heavy, shined to the point she could see her face in them. That didn't make them any less uncomfortable. “No wonder these people are terrorists. Damn ugly uniform,” she muttered as Savage looped a black tie around her neck and tied it expertly faster than she could make out what he was doing.

“Okay,” he said, handing her the blazer and checking his watch. “We have one hour. Get that on and let's go. I'll drop you out front in the car.”

They made their way out of the hotel room and into the Jaguar that was fast becoming a second home. Zora breathed deeply as she got in, the smell of the now very familiar leather interior calming her as they began their penultimate journey through Haskovo.

In many ways it was a drive like any other, yet Zora was fraught with the queerest of tension. Savage reached out for her hand and held it the entire way. For the most part they drove in silence. What was there to say? He was dropping her off to perhaps die or face a possibly worse fate at the hands of terrorists. Yet the sun still shone, the birds still sang and all around the place, people went about their daily lives. The world would continue to turn whether she ended up in a deep dark underground dungeon or blinked out of existence entirely. Zora felt oddly separate and disconnected from the world. She was still a part of it, but she was not like the people who laughed and frowned their way across the pavements and streets, caught up in petty concerns. She was part of something deeper, the web that underlay society. She knew things that nobody else knew.