Page 15 of Belgian Betrayal

He’d become complacent, thinking she’d given up her life as an assassin to spend it with him. He’d thought she’d loved him, even if she hadn’t said those three elusive words.

Then again, he hadn’t told her how he felt, certain a declaration of love would scare her off. As it had turned out, revealing his true feelings hadn’t been necessary to scare her off. She’d made love with him one last time and disappeared, leaving behind traces of their time together that haunted him to the moment he’d received her call.

Catya hadn’t taken the clothes or toiletries she’d accumulated. However, she had taken the gold necklace with the infinity loop he’d purchased from a vendor near the Acropolis. The necklace hadn’t been expensive, but she’d admired it. He’d liked the message inherent in the symbol and had bought it for her, placing it around her neck and kissing her in the moonlight.

He kind of understood why she might have left. After all, she was an assassin. Her job was killing people. Maybe she was afraid to let her guard down and love someone. Love was a weakness—an Achilles heel to be used against her.

No matter the reason she’d left, she’d contacted him to warn of danger headed his way. That meant she cared.

When Fearghas had received the call, his heart had filled with happiness and hope, quickly followed by fear for her life. He couldn’t do as she’d asked and hide until the situation blew over. He had to be there with her.

The woman worked alone. No one had her back. She’d need help to find Atkins and the disk. Then she’d need help identifying the people who’d set her up with Atkins and then tried to kill her when he’d disappeared with the disk.

Catya was lucky to be alive. The explosion should have killed her. Had the pair of gunmen who’d been tasked with making sure she died been half as good as their target, she wouldn’t have made it out of the townhouse.

He’d come to protect her, only for her to protect him from the thugs who’d tried to capture him on the bridge.

Determined to be more of an asset than a liability, he became hyper-aware of everything around him—every shadow, movement or noise. When the man had appeared out of the side street, Fearghas had almost pulled the trigger on his gun. Fortunately, his training had stayed the urge to squeeze that finger until the man had disappeared down the other street. He hadn’t taken the man’s disappearance at face value. Instead, he’d looked over his shoulder every chance he could get.

Catya zigzagged through the narrow streets until she arrived at the back of a church. After a glance around, she pushed through an overgrown bush, pulling him in behind her. A short, angular door had been built into the side of a set of stone stairs leading up into the back of the church.

Catya retrieved an old-fashioned skeleton key from behind a loose stone in the wall and unlocked the door.

“That’s the only lock?” he whispered, thinking of all the locks, safe rooms and security cameras he’d had installed at his place in Athens.

“I’m careful not to lead people here,” she said, stepping through the door and down a set of worn stone steps into a hidden room in the church's basement. Although small, the room had everything she might need, from a small kitchenette to a minuscule bathroom with a shower barely large enough for one person to step inside and close the curtain.

A single bed took up one corner against the cool stone wall and a potbellied stove stood in another corner with a pipe extending upward into the ceiling and venting to some unknown location. Two spindly chairs graced each side of a narrow table pushed up against the wall by the kitchenette.

Catya crossed to a wooden wardrobe against another wall, opened a door and reached inside.

She pulled out an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of men’s trousers. “These should work while your clothes dry,” she said.

He took the items, frowning. “Do you always keep clothes for men?”

Catya cocked an eyebrow. “Are you jealous?”

His lips twisted. “Maybe.” He didn’t own this woman. She was free to be with anyone she wanted.

Her lips curled. “I keep clothes that are too big for me in case I disguise myself as a large man.” She shrugged. “And they’re comfortable and warm when I want to lay around and read a book.”

“Do you do that often?” he asked.

Her lips quirked upward. “No. I try to keep in shape when I’m not working.”

Fearghas glanced around at the small room. “Is this where you went when you left…Athens?” He’d almost said when you left me but caught himself.

“Among other places,” she said, her attention on the bed in the corner. Catya leaned down, gripped the wood platform the mattress rested on, and lifted it.

Like a Murphy bed, the mattress and platform folded up against the wall, and a small desk dropped down with a computer monitor affixed to the underside of the bed. On the desk was a laptop.

Catya pulled one of the chairs over from the minuscule dining table and sat in front of the computer. “The shower is small, but the water is warm,” she said without looking back at him.

Feeling dismissed, he held the dry clothes away from his body and crossed to the bathroom. “I’ll just be a minute. Are you going to be all right?”

“I locked the door. It’s old but sturdy. If anyone tries to get in, they must work at it.” She cast a glance his way. “You’ll find a towel hanging on the hook behind the door. Help yourself to whatever soaps and shampoos you find.”

“Thanks.” Fearghas stood for a moment longer, staring at her back as she turned on the computer and keyed in a password. “It’s good to see you,” he whispered.

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