Full Exposure

“If you’re going to kill me, stop playing games and just do it.” Her words were a challenge. Fear or submission would only amuse this woman.

At the woman’s throaty laughter, Ariana blinked in astonishment. “You’re not the pampered, fragile, prima donna I expected.”

“After everything that’s happened, I’m a far stronger woman than I was five weeks ago.”

A manicured hand flitted into view, and moonlight glinted on an ornate gold bracelet. “There is a chair near the window. Sit.”

Meekly obey like a trained puppy, or humiliate herself by collapsing? Ariana staggered across the carpet and dropped into an upholstered chair. Moonbeams fractured her vision, shadowing the woman opposite her. No accident. She’d bet this woman calculated every move. The musky fragrance of expensive perfume magnified her captor’s aura of power. “Who are you?”

“You may call me Megaera.”

Ariana started. Megaera was one of the Erinyes, or Furies. Three Greek goddesses of vengeance created by drops of Uranus’s blood, they pursued wrongdoers until the sinners were driven mad or died. The “daughters of night” had fiery eyes and dogs’ heads wreathed with serpents.

“A goddess of vengeance. Are you seeking revenge…on me? How do you think I’ve wronged you?”

The woman paused briefly before speaking. “You mentioned your father. Now I ask what vengeance you are seeking, Ariana?”

Was this about her dad? A chill skittered up Ariana’s spine, as if death had reached from the grave and stroked her with icy fingers. The hair on the back of her neck rose, and she shivered. I do not believe in mythical beings.

What kind of fresh FBI hell was this? An undercover sting? Or was Megaera a smuggler priming her to be another unwitting courier of stolen antiquities? Duping Ariana would be more difficult. Her naïveté had been buried alongside her father. “I don’t want vengeance,” she said cautiously. “Just justice.”

“They can be one and the same.”

A dangerous philosophy. “There’s a line. A point of no return.”

“Your family has suffered. What line would you draw? What will you sacrifice to gain ‘justice’ for Derek Bennett?”

Images haunted Ariana. Her father being led away in handcuffs in front of gaping neighbors. His despair over unreturned phone messages and canceled meetings by his colleagues. The disdain heaped upon the once-proud man, reducing him to a common thief.

She couldn’t exorcise the memory of sitting beside his hospital bed, watching his pale face slacken as his spirit faded. The stinging pain as icy raindrops blurred her vision when the casket holding the shell of what had been her father was lowered into the earth.

“I’ll do whatever I have to.”

“Would you reach into a serpent’s nest, though you could be bitten?”

Goose bumps prickled over Ariana’s skin. What did this woman want?

A silken rustle of clothing whispered in the darkness. “What is the Napoletano, Dante, to you?”

Ariana tensed. She needed to frame her answer carefully. Was this Megaera looking for an “opportunity” to hurt Dante? The gods and goddesses of legend frequently ensnared mortals with their own thoughtless words.

But the woman who held them captive was human…armed with intelligence and power. And the ruthlessness to wield them. Ariana hesitated. Megaera wanted Ariana to believe she was on her side. Dante seemed as if he were not. Instinct warned her to proceed with caution. “That sounds like a trick question.”

“I’ll make it easier. Do you wish me to dispose of him?”

An affirmative or a negative could land both her and Dante in serious jeopardy. If Megaera thought Ariana cared for Dante, the woman could use it against them. But Ariana refused to consent to hurting him further.

“Decide quickly. Or I will decide for you.”

“Then I…” Phrase it carefully. “In future dealings, I want you to treat Dante and me with equal respect.”

“An answer worthy of the ancient gods.” Satisfaction swam in Megaera’s sultry reply. “You risk throwing your lot in with his? Wise. And yet…most unwise.”

“I vote for wise.”

“It remains to be seen whether your choice reveals mercy—or weakness.” The woman’s hand rested on the arm of her chair, and moonlight illuminated the golden circlet at her wrist. The antique bracelet adorned with bloodstones sent a shiver of recognition through Ariana. Where had she seen it before?

“Hold fast to your secrets, Ms. Bennett. Do not reveal yourself to anyone.” Megaera rose and glided to the door. “And you may be granted a chance to even the score for your father.”

The woman left, abandoning Ariana to the gloom.

Her stomach heaved with the ship. What on earth had just happened?

More importantly, what would happen next?

The door crashed open and the Greek swaggered in. Without a word, he yanked her to her feet and marched her toward the yacht’s stern. Dread weighted her chest. Was this the end? Would he shove her into the unforgiving sea?

The torturous walk down the rolling deck was the longest of her life.

Clinging to her dignity—all she had left—Ariana refused to cry or beg. She shouldn’t have embarked on this ill-fated voyage. Sadie would never recover from losing both her husband and daughter.

At the stern, Ariana braced herself for the final assault. Instead, the thug left. Bewilderment assailed her. Reeling from captivity first in the odiferous hold and then the perfumed stateroom, she inhaled the bracing night air. If these were her last breaths, she would savor them.

Murky gray clouds scuttled across the pallid moon. The ocean churned below, where restless waves prowled to the horizon and tumbled off the earth. Shuddering, Ariana pressed trembling lips together. Don’t you dare start wailing.

How had she landed on a yacht in the Mediterranean waiting to die? She had never taken risks. Never longed for adventure. She’d been content to experience life through the stories she adored. She had never hungered for ambition. Never burned with passion. Never melded heart to heart with a soul mate.

At what were probably her few remaining moments before death, realization stole over her. She’d only flirted with blurry shadows of the real thing.

She had never truly lived.

It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t enough.

She wanted more!

If she made it through this, she would live her life the way she wanted…on her own terms. No more concessions. No more doubts. When she died, she wanted to leave behind no regrets.

She heard a commotion and spun around. Which was more terrifying? Someone creeping up from behind and shoving her into the water…or watching the waves rise up to swallow her?

The thugs struggled into view, wrestling Dante between them. The pair strove to restrain the furious Napoletano. Even tied up, he fought every step…defaming their parentage in admirably profane Italian. Relief crested over her. His injuries hadn’t disabled him as badly as she’d feared.

Dante saw her. He stumbled, his tirade broken mid-insult. His gaze swept her body, then locked with hers. His umber eyes mirrored her relief, and her heart jolted. Then he looked away, his features hardening into his usual stony expression.

The Russian opened a watertight door in the stern and motioned them down onto a platform. Her gaze fixated on the waves lapping at her deck shoes. “I’m sorry.” She sputtered a frantic apology at Dante.

“Stay calm, Ariana.” His low assurance vibrated in her ear. “Get into the boat.” He gestured at a speedboat moored to the platform.

Boat? Her limbs quivered as the spike of adrenaline ebbed. She hadn’t seen the boat.