Chapter 1

Niko Pavli pulled his nondescript Chevy Impala to a stop, a safe distance down the street from what used to be his home. His first inclination was to pull into the drive, tear open the front door and announce that he was home. That was a foolhardy notion, at best, and suicide at worst.

He had managed to keep tabs on her, to a certain extent, through his contacts in the Company, and other sources; but all he really knew was that Camille had refused to accept the police report, presuming her husband to be dead, and still bore his name. He also knew that she still lived at 2344 Briar Road, even after all these years. Beyond that, he had no way of knowing what was going on in her life or in her mind.

He looked through the lens of the little monocular that he'd brought with him, searching the windows of the small house. It was late, nearly 11:30, but he could detect movement silhouetted through the sheers that covered the glass. His pulse began to race when he realized that she was in there, still awake — if only he could see her clearly.

Niko was just about to open the car, go to the house, and announce his presence when the door opened. Camille looked golden and beautiful as she stepped into the light that flooded over the floor of the front porch from the open doorway. The expression on her face was wistful, soft, with a slight smile that curved her strawberry-colored lips. She hadn't changed a bit, still beautiful, still supremely bewitching. Her hair was shorter, reaching just past her shoulders, but she was still the same woman he had last seen standing on that very spot.

He opened his car door, stepping out onto the street. There was a tightening in his chest — and his groin — as he contemplated how best to approach. He'd tried to remain true to his marriage vows while he was away, only sampling precious few of the offers he had been given by the women he'd met along the way — and only when the need was more than he could bear. None of them had compared to his Camille and had left him feeling empty, fulfilling only the most base of physical needs.

This woman, who stood so gracefully in the lamplight — only she could fulfill the need that stirred in him. He took his first step, freezing in his tracks when he saw her turn to face the door again. The curve of her face, angling upward as if to greet someone, lifted in a deepening smile. Even from this distance, he could see the glow in her eyes as a man walked outside to stand just inches in front of her. Niko saw his wife lift her arms, wrapping them around the man's neck, as she stood on her toes to receive his kiss.

White-hot pain, like that of a glistening knife blade slicing through his flesh, hit him in the chest, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He felt the rage building, his fists clenching at his sides. Never had he wanted to kill anyone the way he wanted to kill someone at this moment. Blood rushed through his veins, roaring in his ears, as he fought against the fury that threatened to consume him.

"Let it go, buddy."

So caught up was he in the madness that consumed his mind, he'd not heard the voice that spoke so low. When a hand clutched his shoulder from behind, he whirled around, ready to butcher whomever it belonged to.

The man's hands went straight up, palms out in front of him. "Easy, Niko. It's me. Just relax."

Niko's jaw was clenched, it's muscles protruding outward under the strain as he glared at his friend and partner. "How'd you find me?" he ground out.

"Easy. You have a one-track mind. When you disappeared it was just a matter of putting two and two together. I've been here waiting for you."

Niko wheeled back around, watching the scene in front of the house. His sweet wife was waving to the man as he walked toward the car in the drive. She was blowing him kisses and calling out that she loved him.

"I know what's going through that head of yours, old pal. Just let it go. She has a new life now. What did you expect after eight years? You need to cool that hot Greek blood of yours before you do something stupid."

"Fuck you, Olan. Fuck you all to hell," Niko hissed. Knowing that what Olan Jeffreys told him was true didn't help much.

"Let's get out of here before someone sees you, pal," Olan urged. "You know this is madness."

Niko turned on his friend again, facing him with a defensive posture, daring him to interfere. "Eight years, you son of a bitch. Eight years gone. You all fucking lied to me," he growled.

"Niko, nothing I say will change a goddamn thing, but, for what it's worth, I never lied. I believed them, too. Now, come on," Olan returned, his arm stretching out to Niko. "Let's get out of here before it's too late."

"No."

Niko spun around, his long, powerful legs eating up the ground before him in ever-quickening strides. Within moments he was stepping onto the floorboards of the front porch where Camille had been standing mere minutes before. He heard Olan's running footsteps coming up behind him, knew the man would try again to stop him. As Niko raised his clenched fist to knock on the door, his friend grabbed his arm and pulled him around.

With little effort, Niko shook off the smaller man, facing him again, with the wrath he felt burning in his eyes. "Get back, goddamn it. I don't want to hurt you, Olan, but, by God, I'll pound the living shit out of you if you don't stay back."

"Yeah, you could do that," Olan said slowly. "You could beat me to a pulp and leave me bleeding in the dirt, but think, man. How's she gonna feel seeing you after all this time?"

"I don't care. She's my wife," Niko retorted, turning and raising his fist again.

"No, she's not," Olan declared softly.

Niko's arm froze in mid-air, before his hand came in contact with the door. "What's that supposed to mean?" he growled as he spun around again.

Olan ran a hand through his dark red hair, grimacing painfully at the duty that lay before him. "I'm sorry, Niko, but you know the drill. Dammit, life just sucks sometimes," he faltered. "You're dead, remember? Camille is your widow, not your wife. She's planning on getting married again. I know I should've told you, but... How do you think she'll handle it when she sees her dead husband standing at her door? You've got to get a grip, bro. Let's get out of here."

"This is your fault, the whole damned agency's fault," he ground out. "You took everything... everything. Tonight I'm taking it back."

Glaring at Olan, Niko wrestled with his need for retribution, his need to hurt someone and salve the pain that rooted itself deeply in his soul.

"You can't, Niko," Olan said, resignation heavy in his voice. "I have orders to shoot you if you try anything. They want you back alive, if I can do it, but dead works for them too. I don't want to kill you. We been friends a long time."

"You better pull your gun then because I'm going in," Niko hurled back. "I have to get my wife out. If the bastards get their hands on her, they'll end up killing her and you know it. I won't take that chance."

Olan snapped his mouth shut before making a response, glancing around Niko as light once again flooded onto the porch when the door opened. The smaller man shut his eyes, cursing softly under his breath at what he saw.

The head of the larger man shot upright as his back stiffened — an instinctual response to what was inevitable. A soft, lilting voice spoke from behind, sending a chill down his spine. A sudden flutter in his gut was followed by a nervous fear that was uncharacteristic of him, leaving him frozen with his back to the door.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" the voice asked.

Olan let his hands fall to his sides as he turned his back on the scene, leaning against the post of the front porch before folding his arms across his chest and staring into the dark. Niko watched him warily, unsure of whether to trust this man who had been his friend. Finally he turned to face the woman, to look upon her graceful beauty for the first time in nearly a decade. He steeled himself for the reaction that he knew would be inescapable: the shock and horror at seeing him alive.

"Sir?" she asked timidly. "What do you want?"

Niko stepped out of the shadows, allowing the light to flow over his long frame, and eventually, his face as he took a step closer. He watched her eyes, saw the concern at the intrusion, and watched her expression change to confusion, finally becoming astonishment and horror. She was stepping backward, her fingers wrapping around her throat as the color drained from her face.

Camille stumbled, tripping over the edge of a rug before hitting the wall behind her and sliding to the floor. Her mouth moved, forming soundless words while her head shook back and forth. She continued to stare at him through the door, her eyes wide with bewilderment.

Niko took a step over the threshold, reaching a hand to his recoiling wife. He'd worked out in his head what he'd planned to say during the long miles of the trip that brought him back to her door, but the flowery speech was lost to the reality of seeing her.

"Camille..."

"Stay away!" the woman screamed, her hands coming up to fend off the wraith that reached for her.

Niko dropped to his knees before her, wanting to take her quaking form into his arms, crush her slender body to his. Instead, he let his hands fall against his thighs, his mind searching for words that would soothe her and finding none. All he could do was watch her face and see the horror that clouded her eyes.

"You two okay?" Olan asked from the open door.

Niko growled at the intrusion, snaking his hand out to throw the solid wooden door shut, nearly hitting the man in the face. At the sudden bang of the slamming door, Camille snapped out of her stupor, skittering along the wall on her hands and knees. She was on her feet in a flash, running for the back door of the small house.

"Camille," Niko shouted, scrambling to his feet. He caught her about the waist before she could escape, pulling her back against his chest, inhaling her scent.

"Let me go," she shrieked, flailing madly with her feet, sinking her fingernails into the flesh of his arms.

"No," he said against her ear. "It's me, baby. I'm home now."

Camille ceased her struggles, her tense body trying to hold itself away from his. "Who are you?"

He could hear the panic in her voice, feel it in the quiver of her body. The terror he had seen in her eyes fed the rage that he felt at having been forced to live without her. He wanted to turn her around, take her in his arms and crush her mouth with his, make her understand he was really her Niko.

"Camille, it's me," he whispered into her ear, his lips moving against the sensitive shell. "I'm alive. I'm sorry... so sorry. Please, agapi mou... it's me."

The tension left her body with the sound of a soft whimper, a sound like that of a wounded animal. She weakened against him; her legs trembled and would have collapsed from under her had he not been supporting her slight weight. Her arms dropped limply at her sides, her head lolling forward.

"Camille, please..." Niko had one arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her head back with his other hand, cradling her cheek in his palm. Her skin was the color of virgin snow and icy to the touch, startling him to the point of near panic. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the living room where he laid her listless body on the sofa, chafing her hands and watching her glassy eyes.

Her voice, weak and soft, barely audible, said his name, "Niko... no, it can't be."

"Yes, agapi," he answered, speaking gently as he brought her hand to his lips, turning it over to place a tender kiss on her palm. "It's me, I promise you."

"But... but, you're dead," she rasped hoarsely. "They told me you're dead."

"They lied, baby."

Her brows drew together, her eyes darkening in her confusion. "How... ?"

"It's a long story, love, and now's not the time. I came for you. It's not safe to stay here anymore. I have to get you out."

"I... What?" To Camille the whole world no longer made sense. This man touching her was her dead husband, but how could that be?

"I know you're confused but we have to leave. I'm sorry, love. I wish there were time to explain. You're in danger. You have to come with me now."

The woman reached out a hand, touched his face gently, timidly, as if he would disappear because of her actions. He covered her hand with his, pressing it to his flesh, indulging in the petal-soft sensation of her fingers. She moaned softly before her arms flew about his neck, clasping him in a fierce hug. A savage growl exploding from his chest, Niko wrapped himself around her, crushing her against him until she pushed back, gasping for breath.

He heard the cracking sound of it before he felt the sting of the vicious slap that left a fiery imprint of her hand on his cheek. She struck him again, a sob tearing from her throat as she raised her hand once more. Niko caught the small hand, pressing the palm to his lips, tasting her skin.

"No," she screamed. "No, no, no! "

Camille fought against him in earnest, shoving him back, pushing against his chest with her bare feet. Before he could catch her she was off the sofa, on her feet, and running across the room. The betrayal she felt glittered in her eyes as she whirled around, facing him with a venomous sneer.

"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. You are 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 you abandoned 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.