"Who's giving the orders around here, Girotti?" Carter demanded. "You, or this idiot?"
"I am," Girotti said. "Put your gun away, Tuttle."
"But…"
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you! Put your gun down and stop baiting him!"
"Suit yourself." Tuttle sullenly obeyed.
"Sorry, but in this business, one can't be too careful. Sorry about the job, too, but, uh, these things happen. I'm glad you made it," Girotti said.
"So am I," Eva purred.
Girotti held out his hand. Carter shook it. Bob and Bill eased their intent awareness.
"My boss will want to talk to you," Girotti said.
"You know where to find me," Carter said. "Oh, yes, one thing more."
The Killmaster's right hand was a blur of lightninglike motion as he planted a solid haymaker square on the button of Tuttle's chin.
There was the solid, satisfying thud of fist striking flesh, a click as the blow slammed Tuttle's jaws shut, and a rush of air as Tuttle backpedaled, arms windmilling. A wall interrupted his progress. He slid down and slumped to the floor, head lolling, out cold.
Carter messaged his front knuckles. "Sweet dreams, buddy boy."
Bob and Bill exchanged glances, impressed.
Carter said, "If you don't mind, I'd like to get some good food in my belly. It's been too long since I've had a decent meal. All they ever served on board ship was couscous. If I ever seen another plate of that slop again, I'll vomit."
"I think you'll find our bill of fare to your liking," Girotti said with a smile.
"Knowing your gourmet tastes, I'm sure of it. And while I'm on the subject, a bit of vino wouldn't hurt either."
"The wine cellar is extensive. Make yourself at home."
"Thanks, I'll do just that," Carter said.
"Ah, one thing, Solano. It would be best if you didn't try to leave the villa for now."
"With a dragnet in full swing, and me without a passport? Where would I go?"
"My sentiments exactly."
Carter slipped an arm around Eva's waist. Her satin skin was still moist from the pool.
"Solano, ummmm " She leaned into him. "Long time no see."
"You don't know the half of it. I haven't so much as seen a woman for over six weeks."
"You're seeing me."
"I'll do a lot more than see," he promised.
"Then what are we waiting for?"
"Lead on, carissima." Arm in arm, they went to the exit. Carter paused under the archway to deliver a parting shot. "Your hired hand's got a glass jaw, Girotti."
Tuttle was still out cold. He came to after Bob and Bill tossed him in the pool.
A cordon of Israeli commandos surrounded the villa. Taking advantage of the excellent cover provided by the rugged terrain, they had moved within a few dozen yards of the structure, where they impatiently awaited the go signal. Girotti's guards, patrolling the grounds, were blissfully unaware of the camouflaged action team lurking a scant stone's throw away.
It was an Israeli operation and the AXE contingent had to take a back seat. Griff and Stanton chafed under the enforced inaction.
Hawk had told them, "Remember, we're here to observe, and that's all. Our little escapade this afternoon didn't exactly make us the most popular kids on the block. Of course, if somebody snoots at us, we can shoot back."
"That's a comfort," Griff had said. "You think this ploy will flush out the big boss, Reguiba?"
"It's worth a try."
Stanton looked long and hard at the villa. "I wonder how Nick's making out right now?"
The dinner that Girotti's chef sent up to the guest room on the second floor looked and smelled delicious. Nick Carter didn't take a bite of it. The wine accompanying it was an excellent vintage. Carter didn't drink a drop.
He didn't suspect that the food and wine were poisoned. Girotti wanted to keep him alive, at least until his boss had a chance to interrogate the sole survivor of the Melina. But it might well be drugged. Knocking him out would be an easy way to keep him on ice until needed. He couldn't even use Eva as an unwitting food taster, since they were perfectly capable of drugging her along with him to lend credibility to the ploy.
He couldn't eat and he couldn't drink. That left him with only one source of amusement: Eva. She was in an adjoining dressing room, having showered after her swim.
The room — suite of rooms, actually — was ornate, opulent, filled with heavy antique furniture and objets d'art. There was a crystal chandelier, a gilded oval mirror, a big bed. A bed that looked particularly inviting.
Opposite the bed, French doors opened onto a small stone balcony. Carter stepped out for a breath of fresh air.
A guard stationed on the patio below looked up. Carter flashed him a friendly wave that was neither acknowledged nor returned.
A slight motion flashed in the corner of his eye. Turning to discover its source, he saw another guard stationed on a balcony two rooms away.
He saw no sign of the Israeli action team that should have been in position by then. That was all to the good. If he couldn't see them, neither could the opposition. If he could see them, he'd really have cause for worry.
"I'll be right with you," Eva sang out.
"Good." Closing the French doors, Carter went back into the room. Eva joined him.
He whistled. "Bellissima!"
"You like?" she teased.
"I like."
There was plenty to like. Plenty of Eva, that is. He'd already seen her near naked tonight, so for a change of pace she'd put on something more appropriate to the bedroom, a tiny one-piece garment of black silk and lace. It tied in a halter at the back of her neck, the translucent fabric capturing her firm breasts. Its black lace hem barely reached the tops of her thighs, doing next to nothing to conceal the blond triangle between them.
Carter's hormones kicked into overdrive. It had been a long, long time…
Black spike heels added inches to her already lofty height. She pirouetted, exhibiting a rear view, the cheeks of her firm buttocks only half-hidden by the teddy.
Carter applauded the total effect. Eva winced as she went to him.
"Ouch!"
"What's wrong?"
"I can hardly walk in these damned things."
"Then why wear them?"
"I like the way they look. Besides," she added, "I don't have to do much walking in bed."
"Speaking of which…" Carter said, embracing her. Eva made quite an armful. She had the face and figure of a high-fashion model, which she had once been before her lust for kicks and danger took her into bad company.
Her mouth was hot, sweet, devouring. Carter tasted it while his hands stroked their way down her back to her high, rounded rump. He cupped her bare buttocks under the lingerie, pulling her pelvis into his. There was a weakness in her knees as she ground her hips into his hardness.
Not breaking the rhythm of his kisses, he unknotted the halter at the back of her neck. It came undone, baring her upper body. She stroked stiff nipples against his chest, arousal writhing through her.
Suddenly she clawed the back of his neck, breaking the skin with her nails.
Fear chilled the Killmaster. He knew of an old assassin's trick of secreting poison under the fingernails, then injecting poison into the victim's bloodstream by scratching him.
Eva's gurgling laughter reassured him that this was no insidious technique, but merely some of her kind of kinky foreplay.
"Did I hurt you, Solano? Hurt me back."
He grabbed her hair, pulled her head back, and ground his mouth to hers.
"Ummm, I like that," she murmured when they came up for air.
That cued Carter as to how to play the rest of the game. He put his hand between her bare breasts and pushed her back to the bed.