No One to Trust

by Iris Johansen

  “What an honor.” She smiled and gave him a hug. “Looks like you rolled over a few times too.”

  “Galen and I had a straw fight, and he threw me on top of the stack. Then I couldn’t fight anymore because I was laughing. He said he was making duck orange for dinner and I could help. I’ve never eaten that, have you?”

  “No.”

  “I’ve got to hurry. Where’s the bathroom? He said I couldn’t touch anything in his kitchen until I had a bath.”

  She nodded at the suite. “In there.” She followed him into the bedroom and gestured to the bathroom. “I’ll get you some clean clothes from your room. It’s right through that door. Our rooms are connected.”

  “Good.” Barry’s tone was abstracted. “I have to wash my hair. Galen said that if he saw even one piece of straw, I was out of there. Will you help me?”

  “Of course.” Every other word he’d uttered had been about Galen. “I’ll see that you pass inspection. You like Galen?”

  “Sure. He makes things … different.”

  He meant exciting. Why wouldn’t he think Galen was some kind of magician? He’d flown through the air with him and then been whisked to the top of a great city. Now Galen had given Barry the elements of every boy’s dream: a dog and cats and a hayloft.

  He was staring at her, troubled. “You like him too, don’t you?”

  One word and she could turn him against Galen. This affection that Barry was beginning to feel for him could be dangerous. Galen might be something of a magician, but after all the sleight of hand and wondrous tricks, he would vanish and leave Barry alone and empty. But how could she say that word when Galen had single-handedly banished the fear and uncertainty she had sensed in Barry since the fire at the vineyard? She owed him a debt, dammit. “Why wouldn’t I like him?” she asked lightly. “After all, he’s going to teach you how to cook me a fancy dinner.”

  “Come on, young man. Time for bed.” Dominic stood up from the table. “Your face is going to fall into that chocolate mousse if you don’t stop nodding.”

  “Tired …” Barry stood up, yawning. “I stirred the chocolate, you know.”

  “It’s been called to our attention,” Dominic said. “Several times.” He turned to Galen. “A great meal. I’ve never had better, even in the finest restaurants in Miami.”

  “Of course not,” Galen said. “I told you I was a master.”

  Judd Morgan snorted. “It’s getting thick in here. I need some air.”

  “And leave me with the dishes?”

  “I’ll help,” Barry said.

  Galen shook his head. “I believe in specialized labor. You’ve done your bit. I have you scheduled for omelette duty at breakfast tomorrow.”

  He yawned again. “Okay.”

  “Let’s go,” Dominic said. “You’re about to fall asleep, and you’re getting too big for me to carry up those stairs.”

  Elena watched Dominic and Barry leave the dining room before she rose to her feet. “I’ll wash the dishes.”

  Morgan shook his head. “My job. Galen cooks. I clean up.” He started to stack the dishes. “Though if he didn’t have a great dishwasher, I’d take you up on it.”

  “Then I’ll help,” Elena said.

  “No, you won’t. I like to work alone.” He carried the dishes into the kitchen.

  “He’s not rejecting you. He’s telling the truth. He likes to do everything alone,” Galen said as he stood up. “That’s why he likes staying here at the ranch. You can’t imagine a more solitary existence. I guess it’s his artistic temperament.”

  “He’s an artist?”

  He nodded. “There’s an oil painting of his in the library that’s remarkable.”

  “I would never have guessed.”

  “Well, I grant you that he doesn’t look the part. What would you think he does for a living?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the same thing that you do.”

  He smiled. “Close. But Judd was more specialized.”

  “You appear to get along very well.”

  “We understand each other. In many ways we’re a lot alike.”

  She shook her head. “You’re nothing alike.”

  “You don’t think I’m the artistic, solitary type?”

  “I don’t know what type of person you are.” She studied him. His expression was slightly mocking, but his dark eyes were sparkling. “Do you?”

  “I know exactly who I am. I just dislike sharing it with all and sundry. Do you want to see Judd’s painting? Or maybe you’ve had a look around already?”

  “No, just the upstairs.” She followed him from the room. “This is quite a place. I’d think you’d use it more often.”

  “I get restless.” He opened a paneled door. “This is the library. It’s the one room Judd totally approves of.”

  Books. Books everywhere. “So do I.” She went into the room and caressingly touched the leather spine of a book on the shelf closest to the door. “You couldn’t get a room with this many books wrong.”

  “You like to read?”

  “I love it.” She went around looking at titles. Everything from classics to how-to manuals. “When I was a kid, there was no way I had access to TV or movies, but my father managed to get me thousands of paperback books over the years. That’s all I needed.”

  “No, that’s not all you needed. Tell me, were you on the reward system? Shoot a sniper, read a book?”

  She flinched. “You don’t understand. My father wasn’t a heartless monster. He came to Colombia as a mercenary with the rebels and he stayed as a patriot. He met my mother and he learned to love her and her country. He wanted to change things. He believed in what he was doing.”

  “Did you believe in what he was doing?”

  “I believed in him.”

  “Would you let your son be taught the things he taught you?”

  She didn’t answer for a moment. “My father did the best he could. After my mother was killed by government troops, he became obsessed with the cause. Defeating them was worth any sacrifice. He couldn’t give it up, and he was left with me and Luis to raise. He wanted to keep us with him.”

  “Where is Luis now?”

  She looked away from him. “He’s still with the rebels.”

  “I take it you’re not close.”

  “No.” She touched another cover. “Macbeth. Do you like Shakespeare?”

  “Culture? Me? I bought the entire stock from an estate auction.”

  “Really?”

  “Why should that surprise you?”

  She stiffened as a thought occurred to her. “It only surprises me you feel it necessary to lie to me.”

  “Why do you think I’m lying to you?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  He was silent a moment. “I did buy the library at an estate auction. But I examined every book on those shelves before I made my bid. I do like Shakespeare. He understood human frailties. Are you satisfied now?”

  “No, because I think you lied so I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I’ve led a rough life and I haven’t had any formal education, but I’m not ashamed of what I am or what my father was or what I’ve had to do to survive. I’d match my—”

  “Shh.” His fingers were across her lips. “I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m not that stupid. You’re probably a hell of a lot better educated than I’ll ever be. I was kicked out of more schools than you can count on both hands. I didn’t even crack a book until I was fifteen. I was the most ignorant rowdy on the face of the planet. If I wasn’t honest, it was my built-in camouflage coming into play.”

  She turned her head away to avoid the touch of his hand. He was warm and hard and her lips felt—She drew a deep breath and stepped back. “Why? You don’t care what I think about you.”

  “It appears I do. What a surprise.” He nodded at the wall behind her. “That’s Judd’s painting.”

  As she turned around, she felt a surge of relief that he’d changed
the subject. She didn’t like what she was feeling. The sexual tension had emerged out of nowhere, and she wanted to snuff it out.

  The painting. Look at the painting.

  It was a small landscape of the hills surrounding the ranch. But the talent and power of the picture wasn’t small. Its effect was like a stormy burst of lightning. “It’s wonderful.”

  “It reminds me of an El Greco. I don’t tell Judd that because he’d be insulted.”

  She remembered what Morgan had said after dinner. “Because he likes to do things alone. And in his own way.”

  Galen nodded. “We all like to be considered unique. And he is unique, of course.”

  She nodded. “Is he going to have an exhibition?”

  “Not right away. He’s been concentrating on his art only since he came here, and he has to create a body of work. Besides, he has to stay out of the limelight for a while.”

  “Why?”

  “He wants to stay alive.”

  “I … see.”

  He smiled. “How tactful. You don’t see at all. Judd used to do sanctions for the CIA. He was exceptionally good and they chose him to take out a general in the North Korean government. Unfortunately, his superiors decided that it was a mistake and that the man who did it should have his head served up as a sacrifice to diplomacy. Judd objected. Can you imagine that?”

  “So he’s hiding out?”

  “Until my friend Logan manages to pull some strings in Washington to take the heat off. He’s got a lot of clout, but it could take some time.” He glanced at her. “But you needn’t worry about Judd being around Barry. He won’t hurt him.”

  “I’m not worried. I believe I should be a decent judge of character by now. What someone does is not necessarily what they are.”

  “And vice versa.”

  “Aren’t you running a risk helping him?”

  He shrugged. “I always liked Judd.” He took her elbow. “I’ll show you the rest of the house. The game room’s kind of fun. I don’t suppose you play pool?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t think so. Not that many pool halls in the jungle. We’ll start lessons tomorrow. I’m a fantastic teacher.”

  “Is there anything you’re not fantastic at?”

  “Can’t think of anything.” He opened another door. “You’re going to like this. It’s right up your—What’s wrong?”

  It was a gym. Mirrored walls and metal equipment.

  And the mat lying on the floor.

  “You’re white as a sheet. What the hell is wrong?”

  The mat.

  “Nothing.” She moistened her lips. Stop shaking. You were just caught off guard. She took a deep breath. “I’m … tired. I need to go to bed.”

  “Not until you tell me what—” He stopped as he saw her expression and said roughly, “For God’s sake, get out of here.”

  “I will.” She ran out of the room and up the stairs. She barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up. Stupid to be this feeble. After all she’d gone through, to have the sight of that blasted gym turn her into this quivering weakling. It was the shock. She hadn’t been in a gym in the last six years. She hadn’t realized all those memories would come flooding back to her.

  The mat.

  She felt the sweat break out on her forehead.

  Jesus.

  The mat.

  6

  Elena’s hand clenched the banister as she started down the stairs. The house was in darkness, but there was enough moonlight streaming in the windows for her to dimly make out the shape of the furniture in the living room.

  And the hall leading to the gym.

  She could do it.

  One step at a time.

  She reached the bottom of the staircase and paused for a moment, the muscles of her stomach twisting.

  Don’t think. Just do it.

  But she had to think, that was part of it. She couldn’t block it out or he’d win.

  She moved slowly down the hall.

  The mat.

  She could see it in her mind.

  And Chavez’s face above her.

  No.

  She leaned against the wall and breathed deep. Her heart was pounding hard, painfully. Get it over with. Just a few more steps and she’d reach the door.

  She was there. She searched blindly for the knob and threw the door open. Go in. Look at it.

  The mat.

  She went forward and stood over it. It didn’t mean anything. It was only a piece of cloth and padding. It was nothing.

  So she could leave. She didn’t have to stay here.

  If it didn’t mean anything, why was she shaking as she’d done when she had malaria? Why were the tears running down her cheeks?

  Run away. Forget it. She didn’t have to do this.

  Yes, she did. If she ran away, he would win.

  Stay until the pain went away. That’s all she needed to do.

  She backed away until she felt the cold mirrored wall touch her body. She sank to the floor.

  Look at it. Remember. He can’t hurt you unless you let him.

  Dear God, she wished she could stop shaking.

  “Come on,” Galen said roughly. “You’re getting out of here.”

  She looked up to see him standing before her.

  He held out his hand. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but I’m not standing around and watching you.”

  She shook her head and wrapped her arms more tightly around her body. Jesus, she was cold. “Go away.”

  “You’ve been in here over an hour and I’m tired of being patient and understanding. I’m not going to wait any longer.”

  “I don’t want … your … understanding. None of your business. Go away.”

  “It’s my house and, as long as you’re here, you’re my business. I run the show, remember? Now, come on, we’re getting out of here.”

  “Have … to stay … here.”

  He gazed at her for a moment. “Shit.” He dropped down beside her and leaned against the mirror. “Okay, we both stay.”

  She shook her head. “Alone. I have to do it alone.”

  “Bullshit.” He tossed her his handkerchief. “Stop crying, okay?”

  “I’m not—”

  “Just shut up. I’ve had a rough night. I don’t know what’s happening to you, but I don’t like it. And I don’t like feeling like this. I want to go to bed and forget about you.”

  “Do it.”

  “I can’t. If I could, do you think I’d be sitting here in the dark in the middle of the night?”

  “Go away.”

  “I’m not going away. If this is something you have to do alone, it’s going to have to be another time. So stop communing with that damn mat and let’s go get a cup of coffee.”

  “I’m not commun—” Anger surged through her. “You make me sound like a crazy woman.”

  “Crazy? If you’ve got some weird fixation for mats, heaven forbid I object.”

  “You don’t under—” She struggled to her feet. “What an asshole you are.” She moved toward the door. “Leave me alone, Galen.”

  It wasn’t until she was out in the hall that a relief that made her go limp replaced the anger. She reached out blindly for the wall.

  “Easy.” Galen’s arm was around her, supporting her, leading her toward the kitchen. “Don’t fight. You might hurt me.”

  “Asshole.” She was still shaking and felt as weak as a kitten. They both knew she was in no shape to hurt a cockroach.

  “You keep calling me that.” He pushed her down in a chair at the table and turned on the light. “It’s not very polite. If you keep on doing it, I’m not going to pick you up from the floor when you shake yourself off that chair. Stay here. I’ll get a throw from the sofa.”

  She should get up and leave. In a minute. As soon as she was stronger.

  He was back, tucking a sage chenille throw around her. “Better?” He turned away. “You don’t have to admit it. After all, I inte
rfered with your hair-shirt detail. I’ll get you a cup of coffee. It’s already made.”

  The throw did feel warm and soft, and her coldness was beginning to subside. “It … feels good.”

  “I thought so.”

  She watched him pour steaming coffee into two cups. “Why was the coffee already made?”

  “I was in the living room when you came downstairs. You didn’t look so good. I thought you might need it.” He brought the cups to the table. “I didn’t realize you’d decide to set up camp in there.”

  “You should have left me alone.”

  “You were in pain. I have a problem with that.” He sat down across from her. “You’re still in pain.”

  “I’m not in pain. I won’t let him hurt me again.”

  “Okay. Okay. Drink your coffee.”

  She knew she couldn’t hold the cup steady. “In a little while.”

  “Whatever.” He looked down into his coffee. “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what’s going on with you?”

  “No.”

  “That mat is bothering you. We could drag it outside and start a bonfire. I’ll supply the match.”

  She shook her head.

  “I could let Judd draw a bull’s-eye and use it as a target. You’d be doing him a favor. He’s probably out of practice.”

  She stared at him in exasperation and then a hint of a smile touched her lips. “Asshole.”

  “Okay, you’re better. Drink your coffee.”

  He was right. Her hand was no longer shaking. She lifted the cup to her lips. The coffee was hot and strong and it tasted good going down. She set the cup down and leaned back in the chair. “Why were you sitting there in the dark?”

  “You ran away. You were scared. But I knew you wouldn’t allow yourself to cower in your room.”

  “And you were curious?”

  “You might say that.”

  But it wouldn’t be the truth. She knew he had waited because he wanted to help her. And he had helped her. He had broken the hold the trauma had on her with flippancy, making light of the agony she was going through. It had made her angry, and the anger had freed her.

  Had he known what he was doing?

  Probably. He was clever and perceptive and he knew how to manipulate people and situations. He had chosen to manipulate this one to try to help her.