Pleasure’s Fury: Masters’ Admiralty, book 3 Read online

  “For what? If you have antiques there, I’ll… Well, I’ll do something.” Karl was glaring at the building suspiciously.

  “Car collection.”

  Karl stopped. Leila met his gaze. As one, they went to the door. It was locked.

  They looked at Antonio. He was standing in the middle of the driveway, the sun adding honey-brown highlights to his hair. One brow was raised.

  Karl pointedly jerked on the door while making “ahem” noises.

  Antonio smiled. It was a brief smile, but it was there. He walked over, flipped up a plain gray cover hiding a keypad and entered a code. The door clicked and they slipped inside.

  Over thirty sports cars gleamed under massive lights that had come on when they opened the door. They were parked in rows of five, and there were at least six rows, each vehicle a work of art.

  Karl made a pained noise.

  “You okay?” It was a perfunctory question. Leila was eyeing a cherry-red topless Ferrari. Unlike some of the others, it wasn’t super wide, but it still had all those sleek lines and curves that made her think of speed and power.

  “Where are the keys?” Karl demanded.

  Antonio snorted. “I’m not telling you.”

  “I’m willing to offer bribes,” Karl continued.

  “Oh?”

  Karl had wandered down the aisle and was making cooing noises at a white car that looked sort of like a spaceship.

  Antonio joined Leila. “You like supercars?”

  “I have a little Skoda.”

  Antonio chucked. “After this, if you want, I’ll take you out. Maybe in the Pagani. It’s a hypercar.”

  She’d have to look up the difference between supercars and hypercars later. “And Karl? If you don’t let him at least touch one, I think he might start crying.”

  “He can touch them. I won’t let him drive one.”

  They watched as Karl squatted and traced the lines of a fender with his palm, without actually touching it.

  “I’m not actually sure what he is doing,” Antonio mused.

  Leila laughed and leaned sideways, pumping his arm with her shoulder. He immediately slid his arm around her waist.

  “You have to let him drive one,” she told Antonio.

  He sighed, an exaggerated sound that made her smile. It felt good that he’d finally opened up enough to tease and be teased.

  “You can handle one of these?” Antonio called out.

  Karl’s head snapped up. “You know, the Italians aren’t the only ones to build and drive fast cars.”

  Antonio snorted. “We make the only ones that really matter.”

  Karl popped to his feet. “Then why is there a Bugatti over there?”

  “Italian designer,” Antonio said.

  “And that, isn’t that a McLaren?” Karl asked.

  “We need something to drive to the market.”

  Then they were off, debating the merits of various expensive cars.

  Leila was actually good with cars—she did most of her own maintenance on her little Skoda—but that didn’t mean she understood the debate over paddle versus stick shift.

  Antonio herded them outside, having to physically lead Karl by grabbing the other man’s shoulder and tugging him the direction he needed to go. Once the car museum was safely locked up, they resumed their walk, continuing along the driveway, away from the house. After a few minutes, the driveway changed from pavement to gravel and made a sharp right. She could no longer see the lawn or the house. Bushes and trees crowded the road, the branches tangled together overhead. It smelled like earth and something sweet—flowers or fruits of some kind. The light was dappled gold and green as it came through the leaves.

  Antonio and Karl had fallen silent. She hadn’t been paying enough attention to know the outcome of their debate, but neither of them seemed upset. Something about the quality of the light and the air made it easy to be silent and at peace.

  “This is all still my family’s estate.” Antonio’s quiet words were not at odds with the scenery, but seemed as appropriate as the murmurings of prayers in a church. “It has been owned by the Starabbas for generations. This path was once for the gamekeeper. Now it’s used by security patrols and the gardeners.”

  What had once been a driveway was now a narrow, untamed road, one that would be difficult for a car to use. It was no longer gravel under their feet, but soil and occasionally stone—not the cut and laid stone of the villa, but rough, raw granite.

  If she didn’t know better, she’d say they were alone in this peaceful forest. But it was just an illusion of privacy, of normalcy. They were being guarded. Being watched.

  Leila had caught sight of cameras mounted to tree trunks, and was fairly certain at least one guard was following them.

  The path started to rise, and soon it felt more like a hike than a walk.

  “When you get married, you’ll stay here?” Karl asked.

  Leila almost stumbled. The idea of Antonio getting married…it hurt.

  Antonio didn’t respond.

  “Rome’s admiralty is hereditary, isn’t it?” Karl continued.

  “I thought new admirals were picked by the other territory admirals—the conclave reviews a list of candidates and then votes?” Leila’s statement came out as a question.

  “And who better, or more qualified, than the son of the current admiral?” Karl countered.

  “This isn’t a monarchy,” she insisted.

  “I’m not saying it is.”

  “You are.”

  Karl stopped and looked at her. “Why are you getting angry?”

  Because the idea of Antonio getting married made her want to shoot something. Because the idea of Antonio turning into his father made her heart hurt.

  She ignored Karl and kept walking, until she was level with Antonio, who had determinedly kept walking. They hiked on together in silence, under the dappled light that no longer felt so peaceful. Karl sped up until he was on Antonio’s other side.

  “Do you want to be admiral?” Leila asked Antonio.

  “No.” His word was quiet, resigned. “I think my sister was meant to be admiral of Rome. My father was angry when the fleet admiral married her to two men from England.”

  They walked on, and Leila held back all the things she wanted to say, giving Antonio the time and space to talk. Her efforts at patience were rewarded.

  Antonio cleared his throat, then spoke quietly. “I don’t want to be admiral, but if I am chosen, I will protect my people. That will be my priority.”

  “What is your father’s priority?” Leila asked.

  “Control. Power. Security.”

  “I know you said you don’t want to be admiral, but I think you’d be a good one.” Leila was proud that her voice didn’t waver.

  Karl leaned forward to look at her around Antonio. She ducked her head.

  Karl cleared his throat. “Two husbands, two wives, or one of each?”

  That startled a laugh out of Leila. “What?”

  “Are you hoping for two husbands, two wives, or one of each?”

  “You answer that first.”

  “No, I asked you.”

  “Well then, one of each,” she said after a moment’s thought.

  “Why?”

  “I’m better at being a girl than I was, but it would be nice to have someone to show me how to do all those things I never learned. Now you.”

  “Two wives,” Karl said without hesitation. “Because pornography—and not just modern stuff, thank you, because there’s some ancient stuff with similar themes—has assured me that women long to kneel at my feet and gaze adoringly at my member.”

  “You mean your cock?” she asked.

  “Precisely.”

  Leila shook her head. “That is…wait, are you teasing me?”

  The grin she’d seen tugging at the corner of Karl’s mouth spread over his face. She reached over and gave him a gentle shove.

  He laughed. “I can only assume the reason
women haven’t been falling at my feet is because I’ve been foolishly doing one at a time. My ménages have all been one of each.”

  Leila rolled her eyes and looked at Antonio for help. He was grinning. Really grinning.

  “I’m sure you have no trouble getting women, Dr. Klimek.”

  Karl looked at her, and something passed between them, as if for a moment they were both transported back to last night, remembering that stolen kiss.

  “What about you, Antonio?” Karl asked.

  Antonio’s face sobered, and he didn’t hesitate to respond, leaving them no doubt his answer was sincere. “One of each.”

  Leila liked that answer. In her dreams, she’d begun imagining the three of them married, together forever. It was impossible. If she were wise, she’d stop wishing for it because it was folly and would only cause her pain.

  Antonio stopped and looked around, as if checking their position. “This way.”

  “Where are we going?” Leila asked.

  She followed Antonio off the wide path and into the trees. The footing was dangerous—in places firm ground, in other places only loose soil over the top of hard stone. There were fewer trees here, probably because there wasn’t enough soil for them to root, but plenty of bushes, some with pointed tips to their leaves that stabbed through her pants, making her appreciate the protection the leather jacket offered.

  They emerged onto a small clearing. Elevated above the ground around it, they had a good view of the trees. The ground here was rock with patches of moss. It was a large area, and there were a few lines on the ground that looked almost like faded tire marks.

  Antonio led them over to a fissure in the rocky ground. He crouched, then drew a small flashlight from his pocket and shined it down into the hole.

  “Where are we going?” she asked again.

  It was Karl who answered. “We’re going to the cave where they found the bodies.”

  Easy. It would be so easy to get them.

  His friend had showed him how. His friend had given him names, suggestions. Only suggestions. He was the one who would be remembered, not his friend.

  It would be so easy to get them, but his friend said too many people were hunting him. Hunting him? No, he was hunting them. There had been another who would be the third, but now it would be the dark-haired man. The man who tried to shoot him.

  He would still kill them. Oh yes. But his friend said it was too dangerous for him to go to Italy, said that the people looking for him were close to his hiding place. That he had to stay there. To hide.

  He wasn’t hiding. He was waiting. It was different.

  Soon he would leave his hiding place. His friend agreed, promised to help him, to create a distraction when the time was right so he could go out and finish what he’d started.

  Karl didn’t want to go down there. He’d seen the pictures of the crime scene, and though intellectually he knew the bodies weren’t there, he didn’t want to go down.

  Or maybe he didn’t want to go because it would be too much like going back into that basement where he’d been trapped, helpless.

  Antonio had taken a few steps down into the fissure, which was actually a gap between two massive boulders that had been widened by time and water. He pulled out a plastic tub that had been hidden down there and withdrew three flashlights. He passed one to Leila, who flicked it on and crouched, shining it down into the darkness.

  “There are steps,” she reported.

  Karl accepted the flashlight Antonio handed him, gripping it tight so his fingers wouldn’t shake.

  “What was this place?” Karl asked. “Before…”

  Before you found a pile of meat that used to be people down there.

  Before Ciril tortured, dismembered, and murdered a trinity, and staged their bodies down there in the darkness.

  Karl breathed through his nose and pressed his fist over his mouth.

  “For hiding people, art, during the wars.” Antonio’s gaze skimmed over the landscape, as if searching for a threat. “Wine. My great uncle made his own wine.”

  Leila slid into the fissure and started down the steps, her hair catching the rays of light, giving her a halo. She was an angel descending into hell.

  Karl wanted to go after her, to pull her back.

  “My father claims it was used by early Christians thousands of years ago. Used by the first conclave of admirals to meet in secret.”

  He wanted to go after her, but he couldn’t. Karl was afraid. No. Terrified.

  A coward.

  “Don’t let her go alone.” He choked out the words and didn’t recognize his own voice.

  Antonio’s gaze snapped to him. He tossed his flashlight aside and grabbed Karl’s shoulders. “Karl. Breathe.”

  “Don’t let her go down there. He was here!”

  Karl’s heart was beating so hard it was going to burst through his chest. Why couldn’t he move his arms and legs?

  Oh God, maybe this had all been a dream, and he was still strapped to that chair. Maybe as he was dying, his mind had created this fantasy where he survived.

  “Leila!” Antonio yelled.

  Karl’s vision went dark at the corners and his knees started to buckle. His mouth was dry, his skin hot and tight. Strong arms came around him—cradling him, not restraining him. Holding him up.

  But still he whimpered.

  Dimly, he heard them speaking, these people who might be nothing more than his fevered, dying mind’s attempt to provide false hope and comfort.

  Leila’s voice cut through the white noise. “What happened? Karl? Karl!”

  “I shouldn’t have brought the two of you here.”

  “Antonio, what happened to him?”

  “He’s having a flashback. Panic attack. He said ‘he was here’.”

  “He?” Cool fingers slid between his. “Six isn’t here, Karl. You’re free. I’m free. We’re okay.”

  The words were just more false hope.

  “I shouldn’t have brought you here,” Antonio repeated.

  “Six isn’t here. His name is Ciril and we escaped. Antonio rescued us. Open your eyes.”

  Karl was able to do that much. There was sunlight, blue sky, the tops of trees, but it was all blurry, swimming in and out of focus.

  “Kiss him like in a fairy tale?” Leila asked.

  “No. He might not know it’s you. He might lash out.”

  “Then you kiss him.”

  Karl’s eyes were open. He could hear their words, but his mind was rejecting everything. All he could hear was Ciril’s voice. All he could feel was the pressure of the straps binding him to the chair. He couldn’t move.

  Someone stepped behind him, supporting him. Gentle hands touched his face as Antonio stepped in front of him, blocking out the sky, the trees, the cave.

  “Karl,” Antonio murmured softly. “You’re safe. You’re with us.”

  For the briefest of moments, Karl felt air hit his lungs as he sucked in a deep breath. It was stolen an instant later when Antonio kissed him.

  It was a soft kiss, warm. Antonio’s lips parted, his tongue darting out, seeking entrance to Karl’s mouth.

  He responded, opening to Antonio.

  Antonio’s touch on his face was still light, comforting.

  It was Leila who had moved behind him, wrapping her arms around Karl’s waist, adding her own heat and strength to the embrace. He felt her cheek press against his back as she said his name. Just his name. Over and over.

  “Karl. Oh, Karl. Karl…”

  Slowly, he felt his strength begin to return. After a few minutes, he was able to lift his arms, to place his hands against Antonio’s strong chest.

  Antonio lowered his hands from Karl’s face, reached for his hips, gripping the belt loops of his jeans so he could pull him closer.

  Karl felt Antonio’s hard cock pressing against his. He reached lower, running his hand over the front of Antonio’s pants firmly.

  He was disappointed when Antonio broke
the kiss, stepping back to look at him.

  His expression was equal parts humor and hunger when he said, “I think he’s okay now, Leila.”

  Leila released him, stepping around to look at him.

  “Sit down, Karl.”

  He let her push him toward a large rock. He leaned against it, trying to catch his breath.

  “I’m…sorry.”

  He wasn’t sure what else to say. For one thing, Karl felt like a damn fool. For another, he was so fucking turned on, he wasn’t sure how to talk.

  “I shouldn’t have brought you here.” It was the third time Antonio had said it, and while he hated the guilt, the remorse in his tone, it triggered an irrational response in Karl. His chest went tight with…God…was that anger?

  “No, Antonio,” Karl said, pushing to his feet. Leila immediately grabbed one of his hands, holding it in both of hers. Antonio stayed close, hands slightly up, as if ready to catch him.

  Karl was shaky and exhausted, like he’d just woken up from a fever. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on the scent of trees and sun-warmed earth.

  “I’m sorry,” Karl said again when he saw the concern, the fear in Leila’s eyes.

  “No.” Leila’s voice was fierce. “Never apologize. Not to us. I know what it was like. I know that you have every right to be—”

  “—a coward,” Karl cut in.

  “No. No. Don’t say that. I’m scared too.”

  “But you were going to go down there and investigate. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” He turned on Antonio. Intellectually, he knew the other man had no way of knowing what being here would make Karl feel, but that didn’t stop him from hating Antonio in that moment. “You wanted Leila and I down there, where his last victims’ dead bodies were found, to see if we—his latest victims—could come up with any new clues.”

  The silence after his last word was deafening. The breeze still rustled the trees, the bird that had been singing before hadn’t stopped, but nevertheless, there was silence.

  Antonio showed no emotion—no remorse, no chagrin. He was a stony stranger…and Karl hated that. Hated that he’d been able to hurt the man who’d just given him that kiss.