A Cloak of Lies Ch. 01

"Where the hell...You bastard. I went through hell! I thought you were dead. Eight years, Niko. That night, when you didn't come home, I was scared shitless.Eight years. The next day came and you still weren't home. I called everyone: friends, police, hospitals. I even called the goddamn morgue.

"When the police came and told me they found your car at the bottom of the river and you were presumed dead, it tore the heart out of me. I struggled every day just to force myself to breathe. I had to get out of bed every morning knowing that you were never coming home again. Every night I climbed into that cold, empty bed remembering what it was like to have you there beside me and knowing that you would never be there again.

"Eight years. Eight years and not even a phone call or a note to let me know that you're alive? I wanted to kill you myself!"

Niko pulled himself upright, planting his feet firmly apart, facing her intently. "I died that night, Camille. I died every minute I was away. It wasn't supposed to be this long, only a few weeks. All I can say is I'm sorry. You were all I ever wanted, all I ever needed but..."

"If you two are done beating each other's brains in," Olan said as he peered around the corner, "I think we better get moving."

"What's up?" Niko asked his expression hardening.

"Suspicious vehicle. I think the secret is out. They know we're here."

Uttering an oath, Niko crossed the room, grabbed his wife's arm, steering her toward the door. "What are they doing?"

"They drove by twice -- four men, two in front, two in back."

"Let's go," Niko ordered, pulling Camille along.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Camille spat as she wrenched her arm free.

Niko turned, reaching for her again. "I don't have time to explain. We have to leave,now."

"Then go. Who's stopping you?"

He grasped her upper arms, his fingers biting into her soft flesh. "Camille, there are men coming here. They intend to kill you. Youare leaving with me --now."

"Why would anyone want to kill me? Don't be stupid. I'm not going anywhere. I have a life, Niko. It took me a long time to get my life back after youabandoned me," she sneered. "I'm getting married next month. He loves me and I love him."

"The hell you are," he growled, shaking her as though he could dislodge the idea from her mind. Seeing the fear in her eyes, he relaxed his grip, forcing himself to calm down. "Those men out there want to use you to get to me. If you don't come with me right now, they'll come in here, take you and... Do you understand what I'm saying? You're in real danger. You have no choice."

"No."

"God dammit," he yelled, just before he hauled her up against his body again, crushing her lips with his. He pulled back, looking at her dazed eyes and the fear he saw there. "If I have to, I'll carry you out of here, kicking and screaming."

"You can try," she hissed, bringing her knee up, striking just to the left of his testicles.

Niko grimaced, relaxing his hold briefly in his surprise, just enough for her to jump free of his grasp. Her bare feet hardly touched the carpeting as she raced up the hall to the back of the house. She slammed the door to her bedroom shut, locking it and running for the phone.

With a splintering crash the door gave way under Niko's large body, exploding inward in a hail of broken wood. Camille hurled the phone at him, shrieking, narrowly missing his skull before picking up a perfume bottle to do the same. He'd already reached her, grasping her wrist in his hand, twisting until she dropped the item.

"You're not Niko," she whispered, wincing in pain. "My husband would never have hurt me."

"I know," he rasped, sorrow dulling the shimmering black of his eyes. "I'm sorry but you leave me no choice."

Niko tossed her body across the bed, snatching at the bedspread to wrap it about her flailing body and head. "Forgive me,agapi mou," he whispered into the cloth as he pulled her swathed frame close.

"Niko," Olan said urgently from the broken doorway. "They're back. We gotta go."

"Grab a pair of shoes for her," Niko said, inclining his head toward the closet as he lifted Camille's twisting form over his shoulder. "And a jacket. Follow me."

Olan followed Niko to the back door, shushing the squirming woman who continued her muffled cries from under the blanket. "She's gonna give us away," Olan whispered just as they heard a car door closing outside the front.

Niko set her on her feet, her body still enwrapped and struggling. "I'm sorry, Camille," he murmured before his fist shot out, cuffing her on the chin.

He had controlled his strike, hitting her lightly, but she crumbled forward, landing against him. He said a silent prayer that she would be all right as he swung her over his shoulder again, allowing Olan to open the door and check that the coast was clear. Staying low, the men slipped out into the night, blending into the shadows and working their way through the backyards of Camille's neighbors.

They entered the street quietly, just a few yards from their parked cars, Olan dashing across the street to open Niko's car and switch off the interior light. Niko soon followed, scurrying through the darkness and avoiding the illumination of the nearby street lamp.

"Get the cuffs from the trunk," Niko whispered, crouching low, laying Camille's lifeless body carefully over the back seat.

Olan complied, keeping low, lifting the lid of the storage compartment a few inches and fishing out what they had laughingly referred to as their "James Bondian Spy Kit." It was a small leather case that contained various items necessary to their job, which every operative in The Company carried. Keeping an eye to the men that milled about Camille's yard down the street, he reported to Niko, "There's a second carload now, four more guys. They look pissed, too."

Niko pulled out the shining manacles he would use to restrain his wife against any escape attempts when she woke up, fastened her wrists securely behind her back. Uncovering her face to assure himself that she was getting enough air, Niko sat back on his haunches to close the door with a soft click.

"I'll meet you at rendezvous point 'B'," he whispered, moving up along the car to open the front passenger door. He stopped before he entered the vehicle, turning to face the man who was his partner and his friend. "Thanks, Olan. I'm sorry to drag you into this."

"Don't sweat it," Olan answered just as quietly, his white teeth flashing vividly in the dark. "What are dumb fucks like me for? Wait till I pull away. I'll see if I can draw some of them off."

Niko gave a curt nod, entering his vehicle, crawling over the seats until he was nestled behind the wheel. He tried to keep his head low as he heard the car behind him come to life, the engine gunning and the headlight beams pitching the entire area into brightness. There was a screeching of rubber on asphalt as Olan's black Porsche slid out into the driving lane, tearing down the street and side-swiping one of the black sedans in front of Camille's house.

"That's not at all obvious," Niko chuckled, amazed that the ploy had worked.

He watched as five men piled into one of the sedans, peeling away from the curb, spinning around to give chase to the Porsche. That left three men and one car behind, two of the men no longer in sight. Niko watched the third who stood watch in the front yard, a gun that could only be described as a submachine gun, possibly an MP5, clutched in one hand.

It's now or never, Niko thought as he gently turned the key in the ignition. Keeping his head low, he backed slowly, cranking the wheel around to roll the car up a driveway. He kept the headlights off as he shifted the car into drive and pulled forward, inching onto the street slowly and heading away from the house. He checked his rearview, making sure no one was following, as he made his way slowly out of the neighborhood, finally turning on his headlights to avoid unwanted attention.

He wound through the back streets until he reached the city limits. It didn't take long to find his way out of town, sticking to the less traveled two-lane roads instead of the major highways. It was twenty minutes after leaving his former hometown before he heard a moan in the back seat, signaling Camille's return to consciousness. He could hear her moving about as she struggled to get a grasp on her situation, as well as bring herself upright.

Once she had managed to right herself, sitting up in the center of the back seat, her eyes glared at him in the mirror, burning her loathing into his vision. "Who the hell are you?" she ground out through clenched teeth.

"It's me,agapi," he said softly as he tried to focus on the road in front of him.

"Who are you?" she repeated, louder this time.

"My name is Gregorios Nikodemos Pavli," he stated patiently. "I'm your husband."

"Fuck you. My husband died eight years ago."

"No,agapi..."

"Don't call me that," Camille hissed. "You have no right to use that name on me."

Niko ran a hand through his hair, scraping the midnight waves off his forehead, sighing as he tried to maintain his calm. "Camille, I swear by the Virgin that it's me. I've been trying to get back to you for years. I'm here now and..."

"Shut up," she screamed. "You aren't my Niko. My husband would never have hit me. My husband was a gentle person. You're an abusive asshole. My husband wouldn't kidnap me or tie me up. What do you want from me?"

The Chevrolet Impala, skidded sideways when Niko hit the brakes, swinging the car into a cornfield, the young stalks barely tall enough to conceal them. They slid to a stop with a cloud of dust enveloping the vehicle, far enough off the darkened road that they would not be seen. Niko threw the shifter into park, turning to reach behind the seat, grabbing her by the arm.

"I am sorry to disruptyour life, sweet Camille," he sneered as his anger got the better of him. "I know you would rather be in the arms of you lover right now, but you're just going to have to get over it."

He pulled her closer so she could better see his face in the faint glow of the headlamps that reflected back on them in the close quarters of the cornfield. "All I've been able to think about was getting to you beforethey could, to get you out before they got their hands on you. I suppose you'd prefer that, huh? To have those sick bastards taking turns with you, passing you around, fucking you until there's nothing left.

"To think I spent all those years working to get back to you, living for the moment when I could see your face again. But you, all that time, you were fucking someone else. Was he good, Camille? Did he find all those sweet spots that I know so well?"

Niko's words were cut short when Camille spat in his face, wrenching herself free of his grasp. She reared back, bringing her bare feet up to lash out, desperately trying to untangle them from folds of the bedspread that was still wrapped about her. Her voice was a cry of rage and anguish as she struggled, wanting to inflict real harm.

His fingers closed around her ankles, viciously biting into her flesh as he pulled her legs upward, her body dragging down the seat. With her head wedged against the bottom of the seat back and her hands cuffed behind her back, she was helpless, at his mercy. The way her head was pushed forward, against her chest, she had to struggle to breathe, each gasp of air coming with a painful grunt. Camille rolled her eyes upward, straining to see him, as he held her pinned with her feet against the headliner.

"Will you stop now?" he asked in a voice that was tight with his effort at self-control. "Will you listen to me?"

With no mobility in her neck or enough air to use her voice properly, she could only snort in answer. Niko slowly released her legs, then reached for her chest with one hand, clutching her blouse and pulling her upright. Their faces were almost touching in the darkness of the car's interior, his breath mixing with her gasps as she welcomed the freedom of unrestricted respiration.

"I am who I say I am," he hissed into her startled face. "I'm the man who fell in love with you and took your virginity on our wedding night. I'm the one who has been through hell and back, trying to get back to you, only to find your lips on the face of another man and his arms around your body." He paused a moment while he tried to get the image out of his mind. "I'm the one who had to get to you before the enemy. Believe what you want, Camille, but youwill cooperate and youwill doexactly as I say. Is that clear?"

She returned his glare with pure vehemence, refusing to answer him, her jaw clenched tightly. Although she offered no resistance, he could see that this situation was only going to get worse. Memories of the past, those months they had spent so blissfully together had actually been stormy, with Camille showing herself to be far more headstrong than he'd first realized. Their courtship had been sweet -- both of them concerned about the other's feelings and needs -- but the marriage had been full of fire. He remembered how he'd decided, after one particularly vicious battle, he'd rather fight with this woman than make love to any of the others he'd ever known. Only she could set his blood to boiling and his temper to flaring.

"I will take the handcuffs off, but I want your word that you won't try to escape," he said, his hand still clutching the front of her blouse. "Answer me. Will you give me your word?"

At her stony silence, Niko released her clothing, allowing her to flop back against the seat. He turned back to face the front of the car, pulling the shifter down.

"Wait," she snapped. "Get these damned things off me." She wriggled until she could sit upright, then turned to present her hands to him. Niko looked over his shoulder, a sneer of contempt on his face. "Give me your word."

"Fine," she muttered. "I give you my word."

He turned, reaching between the front seats, clasping the chain of the manacles in one hand. He began to slip the key into the tiny slot, then stopped, grabbing a handful of wheat-colored hair, dragging her head back.

"Why should I trust you," he breathed, his lips against her ear. "You've broken your promise to me before."

"What... what promise?" she stammered.

"The 'cleave only onto' part of our wedding vows. You remember that,agapi, don't you? The part where you don't let any man but me touch you, the part where you promised to be faithful tome."

"Faithful to you? I don't even know who you are," she shot back.

"Don't you?" he asked, his voice laced with ice. His fingers released the shackles at her back, coming up to stroke the soft flesh below her ear. He scraped the stubble of his cheek against the silk of her hair, his lips caressing the delicate shell of her ear. "Don't you know me, Camille? Have you forgotten my touch?"

Niko gave her hair a viscous tug, yanking her head back farther until her back arched painfully and she was looking into the glittering darkness of his eyes. His lips came down on hers, crushing her soft mouth in a kiss born of bruised rage.

Her response was one of fear and indignation. She struggled against the hands that held her head fast, wriggling in an effort to escape his probing tongue. He raised his head, seeing the fear in her eyes, seeing also the anger and resentment. It was difficult to look at that accusation in her cerulean eyes, difficult to maintain his anger. Cupping her cheek in his large hand, he ducked his head again, sliding his lips over her skin and across her mouth.

There was no brutality in this kiss, as his lips massaged hers gently, tenderly, losing himself in the taste of her. When their mouths parted, he heard her sigh, felt her muscles relax slightly. He suddenly released her hair, grasping her shoulders before she could lose her balance, turning her from him. Finding the key where he'd dropped it on the floorboard, he unlocked the cuffs, releasing her wrists.

Camille alternated between massaging the circulation back into her fingers and rubbing her swollen lips. She sidled away from him, pressing her spine against the seat, her eyes darting to the handle of the back door.

"Go ahead,agapi. If you think you're fast enough, make a run for it."

"I gave my word," she retorted. "Regardless of what you think of me, I always keep my word."

"Not from where I was sitting. Who is he, Camille?"

"None of your business," she snarled. "I'm not telling you anything."

"God-damn-it," he bellowed. "You'd better answer me, or..."

"Or what? You're going to hit me again? What next? You going to tie me up and rape me? Fuck you, Niko."

"So you do know me, huh? Why the act? Hoping you could pull it off and I'd go away with my tail between my legs? Not gonna happen."

"I hate you," she whispered her voice wavering as she continued to rub her wrists. "Do you know what you did to me? Do you care?"

Niko could still see her in the arms of the man on her porch, still see the glow of love on her face as she had smiled up at him. The rage in him refused to be appeased, refused to cool even in the face of her pain.

"Are you gonna cry now? Hmm? You think I give a damn about your tears? I worried all that time that you mourned for me, that you ached inside the way I did. I should've known better. You were out there, whoring yourself with every man that came your way. How many, Camille? How many men did you let crawl between your thighs?"

There was dead silence from the woman on the back seat; not even the sound of breath came from her. Niko could feel the animosity, the heat of fury, as his insult struck home, wounding her deeply. Then he heard her sharp intake of air, heard her windpipe open wide, the air rushing in with a voice of its own before she let go the shriek of rage that should've burst the windows.Thank God for bulletproof glass, he thought with a wince at the decibel level just before she launched herself at him. Her fingers curled, her nails slashing out like talons aimed at his face.

Niko barely got his hands up in time to fend off the attack, grabbing her wrists, bellowing in pain as she sank her teeth into his fingers. She tried to pull free, rearing back, placing her feet against the rear of the front seats, bucking hard. Her strength surprised him -- as much as her use of foul language did. He had no choice but to be pulled into the backseat, unless he wanted to risk snapping her delicate arm bones. A loud rush of air escaped her lungs as he landed on top of her, pulling her around until he had her pinned against the bench seat under his body.

Her hands clasped to the upholstery above her head, Camille could only writhe impotently beneath, screaming insults until she was exhausted. Finally, she lay still against the seat, panting, moaning harshly under his weight.

"I despise you," she rasped out. "You ruined my life."

The fragrance of her, the feel of her body pressed against his groin, were too much for Niko. He bent forward until he had her breasts crushed against his chest, his face just inches from his.

"I remember when you used to tell me that you love me. Have you changed so much? Or were you merely lying?"

Her body began to squirm again, rubbing against his, driving him insane. She screamed, arching her back in a futile attempt to throw his heavy body off her. He clamped his mouth over hers, kissing her hard enough that he tasted her blood. Pulling back, he held his lips just a hair's breath from hers, panting at the fire that had his blood boiling.

Camille raised her head, shocking him as she ground her mouth against his, arching her body once again, pushing her thighs against his groin. He released his grip on her wrists to trail his fingers down her arms and over the sensitive skin of her ribs. Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling his head back until she could look into his eyes.