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Her eyes grew wide. “No, that—”
Harper leaned over the table. “Listen to me carefully. You’re in danger. I’ll call you whatever you like. I won’t make any demands on you, but please pay attention. You cannot trust Jakob Lipori. I don’t know why he saved you, but he must have. I have been told by others, but again, I wasn’t there, that he was partially responsible for the massacre that day and has been identified as your shooter.”
He let that sink in. He knew it was a bitter pill. He deduced she was running it all through her bullshit detector. She was still loyal, a trait she’d possessed in spades. She cared about life and pretty things. It wasn’t everything, but he could see she was still partially there. Lydia, some form of her, was still there.
If she’d let him, he’d devote the rest of his life trying to bring back the other parts. He was even willing to accept the consequences if he failed. But not another death. He would not allow that to occur, even if he lost her every other way.
But as long as she breathed, talked to him, let him tell her stories, somehow, he knew he could bring her fully back.
Chapter 17
He watched herslip out to the street, place her jacket hood over her head, and scamper down the wet sidewalk and out of view. Harper waited for evidence of changes in the crowd of pedestrians or parked cars while he dialed the guys at the villa. He kept his focus when Hamish picked up his phone.
“How’d it go, Boss?”
“More on that later. I want you and two others to get back into town. I’ve directed her to enter the tourist shop near the police station in that little strip. I can’t tail her, but I’m pretty sure she’s in danger. Go in the rear entrance and get her out. You can take her to the apartment until I arrive.”
“We’re already there. Any requests?”
“Take one of the medics and Carl. I want him positioned in the upper window, looking out toward the plaza, okay?”
“We’re on it.”
He saw a brown Fiat with tinted windows, appearing to have two men in it, turn around and head in Lydia’s direction.
Fuck!
He texted her, letting her know she was being followed, hoping she was nearly at the shop or already there. “My guys are on the way. Stay safe.”
He got back a praying hands emoji in answer, unless someone else had obtained her phone. He was in the process of calling the admiral when he felt the cool steel of a gun barrel at the back of his head. Whoever it was remained unfazed by the curious stares from the customers, who began moving around, some going to the back rooms, others running out the front door.
“Lock it,” he yelled before the next person could escape.
Harper knew that voice. He doubted he’d have the time to reach into his pants and grip his KA-BAR or pick out his Sig from the inside of his jacket vest pocket. So he did the next best thing. He raised both hands as if surrendering, bending his arms at the elbow, and then turned and struck the gun so fast it flew across the floor. He landed a roundhouse kick to Lipori’s beautiful nose and watched it explode in a loud crunch, spewing blood in a twenty-foot arc.
Lipori lay on his back, choking on his own blood.
“I want to make a deal,” Lipori said, suddenly looking about sixteen years old. Harper knew he’d probably been surprised he was old enough to be Lydia’s father. He underestimated the SEAL to his own peril.
“No deals. Unless you want to return to the Source, and then I might grant you that wish. How about it, Jakob? You want to be a martyr? Or did your parents tell you communism could save your life?”
“They can pay.”
“Thanks for that information,” Harper said while he checked the outside. No sirens yet. One of the customers wanted to unlock the door and flee. “Not yet. Give me a minute or two, and you can go.” He turned to the crowd. “You’re all safe here. Just let me wrap up a few details, and you’ll all be free to leave. And you’ll lose your cell phone and get charged for helping a terrorist if I see anyone calling out.”
Harper knew it wouldn’t be a one hundred percent solution, but it was worth a try. He hauled the still sputtering Lipori to the corner away from the view of the glass front windows. On the way, he picked up Jakob’s piece. It was a Glock, of course.
He stuck the gun in his pants waistband in the back.
He shoved Lipori down into the seat, nearly crushing the rickety chair. He called to one of the waiters, who had hidden behind the counter. “You there!” he yelled. Three people stood, with their hands in the air. “First person who can give me a couple of strong zip ties gets to leave.”
They looked at each other in shock.
“Go! If you value your life, get me those fuckin’ zip ties.”
All three stumbled over each other and got quickly into action.
His phone beeped, and he got the confirmation the boys had picked her up and were heading to the apartment. It would be close enough to walk, since he had no intention of driving the car, which probably had a tracking device on it.
