by Ann Logan
She kept meaning to ask him about the Joseph Steinberg thing, but every time she started to bring the subject up, he waylaid her with one of his mind-numbing smiles or kisses.
The Ryders gave an old-fashioned barn dance on the last night, inviting the ranch hands and their families. The enormous bounty of barbequed meat, salads, breads, beans, pickles, onions, jalapenos, and fried okra spilled lavishly over the long tables. Children of all sizes sneaked goodies from the dessert table when their parents weren’t looking.
The Ryders’ son, Ben, was as good-looking and as big a flirt as his father.
She also met Ellie, Red and Dorie’s oldest daughter, and her husband, who managed the ranch. Seeing Ellie’s husband had eyes for no one but her, Mercy wondered if she would have that sort of relationship with Wulf. He did look jealous of Ben’s attention to her during their one obligatory dance.
She noticed, however, the way the other women eyed Wulf. Her green eyes must have turned a whole shade greener. How would she ever manage to act like her mother—a woman so sure of herself and her husband’s love that other women didn’t bother her?
Wulf swung her easily through the country and western dances. “This is just like polka. I dance the polka all my life.” When did he have time to dance with all that studying and work? But her doubts faded when he caught her in his gaze, scattering such thoughts to the wind.
They danced almost every dance until the last at the stroke of midnight when the catering people stepped in and began the clean up. Mercy’s heart raced as they stood in the middle of the dance floor at the end of the evening, gazing into each other’s eyes. It had been a perfect night, a night of enchantment.
When they reached the hallway of their respective rooms, Wulf turned her chin up for their customary kiss. Her dark hair shimmered in the dim light of the hallway and her face looked so open and honest. Underneath the prickly, no-nonsense appearance she cultivated so carefully, she was all hot-blooded female. It was enough to make him insane, the need to feel her bare curves, touch her center, and make her explode for him.
Their kiss, when he finally broke it off, left him totally unfocused and heavy with hunger for her. He brought his head low, touching her forehead with his, his breathing heavy and ragged with suppressed need. His hands shook as the hopelessness of his situation rose to choke him.
He braced her with his hands. “I love you, Mercy.”
She nodded, her hand caressing his cheek, loving the feel of his angular face. He was many different textures—hard and lean, sharp and solid. She loved them all. “I know,” she said simply, “I love you, too.” She opened her door and whispered, “Good night.”
She slowly got dressed for bed, letting her hands linger on her skin as she remembered the touch of Wulf’s face beneath her fingertips. If the time came… No, when the time came, could she respond the way he expected her to? According to her therapist, frigidity was a natural reaction to the trauma Mercy had suffered. But with Wulf, she felt anything but frigid. In fact, the emotions and sensations she felt drove her half crazy. But she knew one thing—her life had taken on new meaning when Wulf was around. He made her feel precious and loved. She wouldn’t give up that head-in-the-clouds feeling, even if she had to fight herself for him.
They left for Dallas the next day after Red signed the partnership agreement for the joint venture in Ecuador, and arrived back at the parking lot of Hazel’s building just after lunch. Wulf gave Mercy a long lingering kiss, ignoring the smiling looks of people returning from their lunches. She slowly pulled away from his embrace, loving the intense, heated expression on his face.
“Tomorrow we leave for Germany,” Wulf said. “You can be ready by five? We leave at eight, but we must be there by six for international flights, so, I must pick you up at five, okay?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll be ready.” For the first time in a long time, she felt breathless with excitement instead of panic. “You have my address and phone number. Oh, I wish I could go up and see Hazel with you, but I don’t know how I’m going to do all the things I have to do.” She broke off, giggling helplessly.
“Do not worry. Just be ready when I come.”
Wulf stood watching her as she drove off, longing to call her back, wishing he could change the inevitable. Part of his heart went with her, leaving a great, gaping wound inside. Hopes and dreams shattered before his eyes. His life would be nothing after she knew the truth about him. He headed up to Hazel’s office like a man going to his hanging.
“We leave tomorrow,” Wulf said, sitting on the hard wingback chair in her office, wishing it were more uncomfortable.
“This is wonderful, even better than I’d hoped,” Hazel said, her face glowing with excitement.
He stared at her, furious and bitter, but at himself, not at her. He’d agreed to this, and she’d kept her part of the bargain—the deal with Ryder in Ecuador. Now it was his turn to produce. For the first time he wondered just why he needed Jacob’s approval and acceptance so damned much.
Wulf threw himself out of the chair and stalked to the window. Just one more step. Once he accomplished that, Mercy would probably never speak to him again, much less marry him.
He turned to Hazel. “Well, your plans are working. In fact, everything is working so well that old British spy, Hartring, could’ve been your father.”
“She didn’t recognize you as Joseph Steinberg?” Hazel frowned.
She was a hard one, he thought, not at all like her sister, his mother, Juliette.
“I didn’t think she’d recognize you. After all, you hardly look anything like you did back then. Who’d remember that far back, anyway?”
“I do,” Wulf glared at her. “That was when my father found out that Juliette lied about me, that I was adopted.”
“It’s not fair to take your anger out on Juliette. She did her best. Can you really blame her if she wanted you so badly, she’d have done anything to have a child, even lie.”
“Maybe, but I’ll never forget how I felt when I found out.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” she murmured.
* * *
Mercy watched with fascination as Dallas/Ft. Worth Airport disappeared from the window of the Boeing 757. They were on their way to Germany to meet Wulf’s family, and they were flying first class. Everything was wonderful. Sometimes she’d have an inkling of doubt about her actions, but then she’d turn to Wulf and her heart would leap. How could she have any doubts about him? Smart, handsome, loving, attentive—the list went on and on.
It was time for her to spread her wings and fly! She’d used her education as a cocoon, but going to Germany signaled her coming out of that cocoon.
Wulf had warned her about jet lag and suggested she sleep on the flight, so Mercy put on her eye mask, snuggled down in her seat, leaned her head on his shoulder, and let out a sigh. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind and she’d barely slept last night.
The excitement still bubbled. She’d only been out of the state of Texas a few times, and never across an ocean to another continent. Hazel’s insistence that she get a passport in case she wanted to travel after completing her dissertation was a godsend.
Germany! After having studied German literature for so long, she longed to visit all those places she’d read about in books. Her mother’s parents came from Germany, but she knew nothing about them. Her mother had never really talked about her parents, and she hadn’t been the most inquisitive of children. Her parents had not been interested in the past, only the future.
Wulf’s family lived in Germany, though, and they’d be her family now. Mercy delighted in that, having missed the feeling of family since her parents’ deaths. Who would she meet? His father and mother, of course. But did he have any sisters or brothers? She’d ask him, but she was feeling wonderfully drowsy, warm, and secure sitting next to her future husband.
Wulf watched Mercy sleep, his heart crumbling in his chest at the way she’d curled up like a kitten next to him. He
r dark, glossy curls reached out, calling to him, begging him to twirl them around his fingers. Her face, serene as a Madonna, pleaded for his touch. He’d never seen such beautiful, clear skin, the light olive complexion showing just a hint of color in her cheeks. It still mesmerized him that she didn’t wear makeup except for a little lipstick and mascara. Her naturally animated looks came through in spite of her efforts to downplay them.
Why hadn’t Hazel taken her in hand and gotten her to dress better? And somewhere in her past, she’d been hurt by a man, seriously hurt. Anyone who could harm someone like her had to be a real bastard. But wouldn’t he ultimately do the same thing? For the millionth time, Wulf wished he felt just good, old-fashioned lust. That would’ve been so much easier to deal with than this damnable twisting, stabbing feeling he experienced every time he looked at her. His tortured conscience pleaded silently for time to stop. Hell, until now he hadn’t even known he had a conscience.
Even if he could go back, it wouldn’t help. He’d worked too long and too hard for his father’s acceptance to change anything, in spite of how he felt about Mercy. The money the Organization obtained for Israel would definitely better his relationship with his father. Wasn’t that what he’d always wanted?
Mercy sighed in her sleep and rubbed her head against his shoulder. For the first time, Wulf found himself totally out of his element. She held all the high cards, and he held nothing. He, the consummate negotiator, had been defeated by a woman, one who held his heart in her hand and didn’t even know it.
He wasn’t sure how the Organization planned to handle her once they reached Germany and before he knew her, he hadn’t cared. Knowing Hazel, she had probably arranged it so Mercy would feel guilty if she didn’t meet her grandfather and reveal whatever she learned from him to the Organization. He didn’t need to know the whole scenario, Wulf thought cynically. He just had to get her there. Now, he’d be damned if he was going to let them bully or intimidate her.
Wulf settled himself in his seat, listening to the lulling hum of the powerful engines and the murmured conversations in the cabin. There was little hope that something, anything, would allow her to continue to love him the way she did now. Once she knew how he’d deceived her. Wulf swallowed his self-disgust and pulled Mercy closer, laying his cheek against her satin curls.
* * *
After landing in the bustling Frankfurt airport and making it through German customs, they took a shuttle to Berlin, where Wulf hired a BMW sedan. They automatically slipped into speaking German. Mercy clearly reveled in the chance to use her language skills. Her fascination with all the new sights and sounds from the airport to downtown Berlin caused Wulf to chuckle in amusement. It was as though she was trying to visually gobble everything as quickly as possible.
“You act like a little girl at the circus for the first time,” he told her.
“I know. I’m so excited, I think I could burst.”
“Wait until we get to the hotel, okay?”
“When will I meet your family?” Mercy asked as soon as they’d registered at the small, but elegant, hotel off the Kurfurstendamm, the main boulevard in Berlin. “I want to make a good impression. Are you sure they’ll like me?”
He had half a heart to turn her around and take her right back to America. “We’ll see them tomorrow in Potsdam. I wanted to have a little time alone with you first. Today we should just get out and do a little walking. Would you like that?”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, her eyes sparkling. Her nervousness and clumsiness, he noticed, had decreased over the last week, and she’d stopped wearing her glasses except to read. The dazed look of wonder and love on her face, however, hadn’t disappeared yet. If only it never would!
When the bellboy at the hotel showed them to their connecting rooms, Wulf insisted they switch. “My room is bigger and better than yours. You must take mine instead. I insist.”
“If you say so,” Mercy agreed, pleased with the spare elegance of their rooms. “To be really fair, though, you should have the larger one. You’re much bigger than I am.”
“No. I want you to have the better room,” he said as he smiled and closed the connecting door.
Mercy unpacked in a frenzy, bursting to get out and see the fascinating city of Berlin. So much history contained in one small area! To her, only the Great Wall of China vied for supremacy with the famous Berlin Wall, even though it had almost all disappeared.
Wulf opened the door when she knocked and pulled her into his arms. Oh, God, she loved the way he kissed. So passionate, yet so gentle; so hungry, yet so unhurried. When their lips parted, she had a hard time refocusing her thoughts. Would it always be like this? Mercy noticed him glancing at the bed. Was he thinking of seducing her? It wouldn’t be too hard to do at this point, she thought, feeling the flush of heat rise to her cheeks. If he suggested they anticipate their marriage vows, she knew she wouldn’t resist, in spite of her worries about her performance. She felt a vague disappointment when he pushed her away.
“Let’s go,” Wulf said, his voice sounded hoarse even to his ears. He needed to leave. Now. Maybe they shouldn’t have adjoining rooms after all. How in the hell would he sleep knowing only a slim door separated them—an unlocked one at that?
Outside on the sidewalk, Mercy spun around and said, “It’s a shame we can’t stay in Berlin a little longer before we leave for Potsdam. I’m dying to see everything, the Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag, and all the other famous sights. Is there much left of the old wall?”
He grinned, looking forward to seeing the sights through her unsophisticated eyes. “There are parts of the wall left in certain outlying areas. Don’t forget the wall measured well over a foot thick in some places and surrounded all of Berlin, miles and miles of it. It’s going to take a lot of jack-hammers a long time to tear it all down. I could probably find you an old Russian uniform or some Russian medals as souvenirs.”
“No,” Mercy laughed. “I just want to absorb the mood, the smells, and the dazzle of Berlin. It’s a fascinating city, isn’t it?”
Her eyes shone up at him. Damn! He wanted to give her anything and everything she could ever desire. Instead, Wulf tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and walked them past the up-scale fashion stores on the way to the burnt-out tower of the Kaiser Wilhelm Gedachtniskirche.
He noticed her glancing back. “Would you like to go in one of the stores?” He’d like nothing better than to drown her in haute couture designer outfits that flattered instead of detracted.
“No, not yet. There’s plenty of time for shopping. But soon, okay? I won’t buy anything. I just want to look.”
“That’s right. You won’t buy anything. I will. Come on. I want to see that outfit on you.” He pointed to a moss green suit in the Escada window. He could just imagine what that color would do to her green eyes.
“No, no,” Mercy protested, laughing and pointing at the old ruin. “That’s much higher on my list of to-do’s than shopping. Let’s go there first.”
When they reached the monument she stood quiet, like thousands of others who had been overcome by the bleakness of the charred ruin, a fitting monument to the futility of war.
“It makes me shiver with revulsion for those responsible and ache with pity for the innocent,” she finally said. “How do the people live here every day with this kind of memorial?”
“They are used to it,” he said, shrugging. No one had ever asked him a question like that. He’d lived in Berlin for a year and had never thought about the monument.
“Berliners are a breed apart from other Germans,” he tried to explain. “It comes from living in a city with a split-personality.”
They spent nearly two hours at the monument, reading the inscriptions and visiting the nearby church and bell tower. Afterward, they walked past the Zoogarten on their way back to their hotel.
After dinner, as he kissed her good night, Wulf again felt pressed beyond his limits. Such natural, trusting confidence made him want to
gnash his teeth in frustration. Their long, slow kiss before he released her to go to her room set his pulses hammering and his nerves humming. If he didn’t watch himself, his control would reach its limit.
* * *
It was the sound that woke him, the muffled ping so close to his ear. Wulf half sat up and glanced at the pillow next to him. Where his head should have been—would have been a moment earlier if he hadn’t been so restless—was a hole. A bullet hole.
Quickly, Wulf rolled from the bed to the floor and scanned the room. Nothing. Whoever had shot at him was gone, melting into the night as if he had never been. But the hole was still there. He glanced at the clock—two a. m. What time was it back in the states? Hell, who cared? Wulf grabbed the phone, dialed a number, and stared at the hole. Who wanted him dead? His stomach clenched as he almost dropped the phone. No one wanted him dead. Mercy was supposed to be in this room.
A sleepy voice answered the persistent ringing.
“Anton?” Wulf took a deep breath, his fingers shaking. “Anton. It’s me, Wulf. Hang on just a minute.” He set down the phone and went to the connecting door, opening it just wide enough to see Mercy still sleeping. As he watched, she muttered something and turned on her side. He went back to the phone. “Anton? You still there?”
Wulf sat down on the chair beside his bed. He wished he smoked. He needed a cigarette. One with no filter and a harsh, biting tobacco.
“What’s going on?” Anton demanded in a sleepy voice.
“Someone just tried to kill me.” The words sounded unreal. But the bullet hole in the pillow beside him was no dream.
“Are you okay?” his boss and mentor asked, all evidence of sleep gone.
“Whoever it was is gone now. Damn, I wished I smoked. I think a cigarette would stop me from shaking,” he said, letting out his breath.