by Ann Logan
Two could play at this game. Mercy grabbed the soap from Wulf and began lathering his chest and back. When she soaped under his arm, however, he flinched.
“You’re ticklish!” she cried. They splashed and fought for supremacy of the soap, laughing and tickling each other like two mischievous otters.
“Truce?” she cried, laughing and choking as she tried to catch her breath.
“Truce,” Wulf agreed, laughing along with her.
They rinsed off quickly, but as she started to open the shower door, he pulled her back into his embrace, the water flowing over them and blocking out the world. The kiss rated tame in comparison to some he’d given her, but at that moment—maybe it had something to do with the sensuality of the water flowing over them—her knees weakened and her lower regions filled with a torrid heaviness and aching.
Mercy gulped and drew a long breath, closing her eyes. She wanted him again. Right now, hard, fast and furious. She groaned inwardly. It had to be lust, didn’t it? She swallowed with difficulty, humbled by the knowledge that her body owned her more than her mind did. How could she possibly love someone who’d deceived her so enormously? Everything had happened so fast. Her guilt and embarrassment made her face burn.
Wulf saw the contradictory thoughts flitting across Mercy’s face. “I want you,” he said. “Right now, as you can tell.” His look drew her eyes down to his manhood. It was large and pulsing, proudly proclaiming his desire.
“Luckily, I have enough sense for the both of us,” he continued, his eyes intent as he brushed the wet hair back from her face. “I love you, Mercy. I hope you believe that, no matter what else you believe.” He laughed, surprising himself with his sentimental feelings. “I just hope you’ll learn to love me, the whole man, imperfect as I am.”
“Wulf, I…” she began.
“Not now,” he said, hugging her tightly. “Go get dressed.”
When she left the bathroom, he turned the cold water on full blast. It didn’t help much.
* * *
The rich aroma of bacon frying and hot coffee brewing guided Mercy to the kitchen. It was nice to have something as normal and innocuous as eating to take her mind off her mixed-up feelings. Wulf turned to her with a strained look on his face. “What?”
“Stratton escaped last night. There was so much blood, he might even be dead. But that’s not the worst. They know we were there. We’re accused of helping him, maybe even killing him.”
Mercy sat down. How could something like this be happening to her? She was mousy Mercy, a nobody, of no importance to anyone. Now it seemed that every time she turned around something incredible or outrageous was happening to her.
She laughed. “This is a joke, right?”
“They have a gun with both our fingerprints on it.”
“The gun we left at the restaurant?”
Wulf nodded. “The manager of the restaurant was shot and is now in critical condition. We’re accused of that, too.” He sighed. “The man who was shot at the Sachsenhausen parking lot yesterday was Muller, our protection from the Organization. I didn’t want to tell you before because I didn’t want to alarm you. We’re accused of his murder, too.”
Mercy’s hand flew to her mouth. “You’re lying again,” she said. He had to be lying. This was too unreal to be true. “Why are you doing this?” Mercy didn’t know whether she was more angry or more afraid, but she knew her heart was breaking. Would she ever be able to trust him? Her voice started to rise, “You’ve lied to me, taken advantage of me, and…”
“And made love to you, too, damn it! Don’t forget that.” Wulf slammed down a pan. “Look, Mercy, I got you into this, and I swear to God, I’ll get you out. And if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll keep you safe.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I just don’t know exactly how yet,” he mumbled, turning to the stove and scrambling the eggs, putting them in another pan next to the already sizzling bacon.
“How did you find out about all this?” she finally asked. “Did someone bring a newspaper?”
“I talked to a friend in Berlin while you were dressing. We’re suspected because our fingerprints are on the gun. Clever, huh? Whoever they are, they sure worked fast.”
“More of your cloak and dagger friends?”
“Damn it! They’re not my friends,” Wulf swung around. “I don’t know who the hell they are,” he added. He looked down at the pans on the stove with the bacon and eggs. “There’s orange juice in the refrigerator,” he said, feeling like a heel. She was right. This was all his fault. He had to do something about their circumstances. But what?
They finished a silent breakfast, and Wulf rose. He had a few calls to make.
“Look,” he said. “We’ll get out of this somehow, if I have to call in every favor I’m owed.”
Her look, wary and distrustful, pained him more than he could stand. He felt as though he’d just kicked a puppy. “Don’t worry, do you hear me?” He kissed her quickly on the forehead and went into the living room.
While Mercy cleared the dishes in sullen silence, Wulf picked up the telephone, wondering if the calls he’d made earlier had been traced. She left the kitchen without saying a word. He sighed and punched in Anton’s number. After a brief conversation he felt much better. He had freedom of movement now and a plan.
After breakfast, they’d pack up and leave. There were only a few people Wulf trusted right now and the Germans, the Israelis, and the Organization were not among them. With so much money involved, there was no telling who was trying to kill them. Before he could leave the room the telephone rang.
No one was supposed to have this number but his friend who’d arranged the cabin and Anton. “Hello?”
“Get the hell out of there now!” Anton said in a rush.
“Right!” Wulf hung up.
“Mercy, we need to leave here. Now!” Silence filled the cabin. “Mercy?” He ran into her room. The bed was rumpled, her clothes and toiletries gone. She’d left him!
He ran to the front door. No car! Wulf bolted from the cabin. He hadn’t quite reached the trees before the explosion knocked him in the dirt.
His ears were ringing so loudly he didn’t hear the car until it almost ran over him. Mercy stumbled out of it, her face white as a ghost. He got up, grabbing her arm and dragging her back to the car. He slammed the BMW into gear and sped down the narrow lane, leaving gravel and dust spewing in their wake.
“Why’d you come back?”
“I don’t know.”
“For what it’s worth, thanks.”
Mercy looked back at the smoke billowing in the distance. Their glances met at the same time.
“Yeah,” he said grimly, increasing his speed.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the headrest.
Chapter 9
* * *
“Where are we going now?” Mercy wondered out loud, throwing Wulf a disgruntled look.
“First to Mittenwald and then south to Lubbenau. We’re safer if we go deeper into former East Germany.”
“Why?”
“Because, they’re still in the communications Stone Age. That’s why!”
“And from there?” His snappishness didn’t bother her anymore. Besides, almost being blown to kingdom come justified his bad mood. She had also learned that she could not only stand up to him but also demand to be heard.
“We’ll get more information in Lubbenau.”
“It sounds rather labyrinthine, don’t you think? I think we ought to turn ourselves in to the police. Why are we leaving? I mean, we didn’t kill anyone. Someone’s trying to kill us.”
“Are you crazy? From what I know about German security, we won’t be any safer with them than we are right now.”
“Is this the way you spies do it?” Mercy knew she was pushing Wulf, but her own temper was beginning to run short.
“Yes.” His voice was terse and curt.
“And just who arranged for all this super-secret stuff?”
“Anton.” Wulf sighed. “My boss. I heard he used to be involved in espionage, but I didn’t believe it until now. He’s the one who called and told me to leave the cabin.”
He was as frightened as she.
In Mittenwald they changed their car for a more nondescript model.
The new car raced down the road to Lubbenau every bit as fast as the old one. Wulf handled it all in stride, Mercy noticed. Somehow, he managed to miss every rut and pothole in the old road.
What did she really know about him? Was all this a lie, too? Then she remembered the explosion and the look on Wulf’s face when she’d pulled up in the car. No, this wasn’t a lie. He was just as scared as she was.
Mercy’s thoughts wandered. Had her mother left some clue?
“What are you thinking about so hard?” Wulf asked, cutting into her reverie. He felt like a heel for snapping at her earlier, but if she remembered anything, he needed to know it.
“Nothing really.”
“If we’re going to find that money and turn it over to the authorities, you need to tell me everything you remember about your parents and your grandparents.”
“My parents rarely mentioned either of them.”
“What did your mother say about the old goat,” he prompted, “excuse me, your grandfather?”
Mercy laughed. At least she still had her sense of humor.
“Nothing favorable, that’s for sure. I’m not surprised now that she eloped with Papa.”
“It didn’t hurt that Pedro was so handsome either, did it?”
“How did you know he was handsome?”
“Pedro Fuentes? Nobody could forget Pedro Fuentes.”
“Well, that’s not why she married him,” Mercy said, lifting her chin. “She loved him.”
“Okay, okay, so they had a grand love affair. Can you remember anything about Stratton?”
“Mama told me her father was a distant figure. She only saw him when he’d bring her out to show off to his friends. I always had the feeling she didn’t like him very much.”
“Why was that?”
“She didn’t like to talk about him. I suppose my grandfather committed the ultimate sin by refusing to let her marry Papa.”
“So, that German stubbornness of hers wound up turning the tables on her own father.”
Mercy nodded. “My parents were made for each other. Everyone said so.” Were she and Wulf made for each other like her parents? She doubted it. They were much too different.
In some ways, he reminded her of her grandfather: rude, demanding, and authoritarian. In other ways he reminded her of her father: considerate, tender, and kind. Who was the real man and who wasn’t? Mercy didn’t believe for one minute that someone as sophisticated and complex as Wulf could love someone as naive and plain as she. It just didn’t jive.
“Why are you so quiet?” he asked.
“That’s my business,” she said.
“The hell it is. Your business is my business at this moment. Until we find that damned money and turn it in, we’re going to be linked at the hip. Do you understand me?”
Where did he get off being so overbearing?
“The only thing linking us,” Mercy said, trying to sound blasé and indifferent, “is physical attraction.”
“The hell you say! I love you!” he turned and glared at her.
“Oh, that’s good, Wulf! If you yell loud enough I’ll really believe you.”
What did he know about love? Love wasn’t about shouting and arguing. Love was about trusting and caring. And all he apparently cared about was sex. “What do you want from me?”
“Damned if I know,” he answered, looking chagrined. “I’ve been caught in an honesty trap. A trap set by you, I might add.” He was quiet for several moments. “Or, maybe I’m just more honest than I thought I was.” He grinned at her.
“Maybe,” she said doubtfully, “and maybe the earth is flat.” She gazed out the window. “I'm not sure of anything anymore.”
“You honestly think it's just physical attraction between us? Is that all you feel for me?” Wulf demanded.
“Physical attraction is definitely a big part of it.” Mercy's face grew warm.
“The night I first kissed you I knew the attraction was more than physical,” he said. “It was the first time in my life I held something truly pure and good in my hands. I didn't understand it at first. All I remember is that suddenly I had to have more of it, and if I didn't, I'd starve.”
Mercy swallowed. She couldn't let him deceive her again. She put her hand to her chest, covering the ache inside. Her heart had almost stopped the first day she'd seen him. And it seemed like it had been hurting ever since.
“Maybe we're destined to be together,” he suggested, “like your parents.”
“I don’t think I believe in fate.” She looked down at the engagement ring on her left hand. It still wouldn’t slip over her knuckle. She’d forgotten to take it off when she was in the shower earlier.
Wulf clenched his fist as he watched Mercy try to pull off the engagement ring. It was ostentatious and garish, just like Hazel. How had he allowed Hazel to coerce him into a situation like this? He’d never felt so out of control in his life. Where was the emotionless, ruthless bastard that Anton always bragged about?
“Nonsense? Not only am I in love for the first time in my life, but I’m also being shot at.” His voice rose a little when he thought about that. “And now I’m on the run from the law, and…” He loved her so damned much, and the fact that she didn’t believe him made Wulf mad as hell.
He reached over and picked up her hand. “I love you, Mercedes Fuentes. I don’t know how or why, but I do. That’s why I’m here. I can damn sure promise you I wouldn’t do this for anyone but you.”
Mercy stared at him for a long while before silently turning to watch the passing scenery.
* * *
They parked a block away from the town square. Across the street from the square in the small industrial town of Lubbenau sat an interesting old church, near which sat a statue of some important hymnist from the 1500s. “It’s surprising that the communists didn’t pull that statue down when they took over. It must’ve been important to the town history or something.” Wulf looked at his watch and pointed to the corner cafe. “We’ll meet our contact over there.”
“You know this man?”
Wulf nodded. “He works for Anton.”
“Wonderful.” Mercy smiled. “Another spy.”
The bright canopy of cloudless blue sky radiated sunshine and cheer as they sat silently eating their food. Unfortunately, the sun didn’t improve either of their moods.
Right before they finished their meal, a short, heavyset man came over to their table. “You can’t stay here,” the man said, without any preface. “Go to the Klingerhof Restaurant in Dresden and wait for more instructions.” He exchanged keys with Wulf, pointed to a car parked on the opposite side of the square and left.
Wulf motioned to the waiter. “Let’s go,” he said, ushering Mercy out after taking care of the bill.
They barreled down the old East German highway from Lubbenau to Dresden. None of this seemed real to her. It had to be a bad dream, like falling down the hole in Alice in Wonderland. Mercy giggled, then burst into laughter.
“What in the hell are you laughing about?” he demanded, a reluctant grin growing on his face. “I’m going to stop this car and throw cold water on you if you don’t tell me.”
“I saw this crazy scene in my head. We’re at the Mad Hatter’s tea party. I’m Alice, you see, and… and you’re the Mad Hatter!”
She couldn’t stop the laughter once it began. It felt good to let the tension bubble forth into a good, full-bodied laugh.
Wulf chuckled. “The Mad Hatter? Well, who’s the white rabbit then?”
“Stratton!” Mercy said, holding her sides.
“Wulf?” she asked after her laughter subsided. “Are you sure we shouldn’t turn ourselves in to the aut
horities? It seems to me…”
“The police can’t be trusted right now. The only hope we have is to find the money. Once we get it and turn it over to the authorities, we’ll be home free.”
“Is it only in Germany we’re in danger?”
“I don’t know. All I can say is it would be better if you could remember everything you can about your parents and their families.”
She nodded, turning away from him. Silence filled the car once more, but the heavy tension had disappeared. If she was ever to feel safe again, she had to make sure that the money was disposed of.
Wulf noticed Mercy scratched her neck often. He’d read once that some people developed hives under pressure. He wondered if she did. After all, she had panic attacks, or at least she used to. It made him feel even more protective of her. It sounded crazy, but in the space of less than two weeks, she’d become more precious to him than his own life. Furthermore, his original reason for deceiving her—obtaining his father’s acceptance—had faded into the background. Jacob was no longer the over-riding factor in his life. Somewhere along the line, Wulf had lost the need for his approval. Maybe he’d finally grown up.
“Are you okay?” he asked, seeing her scratch her neck again.
“I’m fine,” Mercy answered, acting surprised. “Why do you ask?”
“You keep scratching your neck. I thought it might be hives.”
“Hives! No. I was just touching my mother’s locket—for good luck. It’s one of the few things I have left of her.” Mercy glanced at him. “Why do I keep getting the feeling there’s more you haven’t told me about yourself?” she asked.
Wulf took a deep breath. He hadn’t told her a bunch of things, not the least of which was, he wasn’t who he said he was. But what if he told her all the truths at once? She might not rely on him when she needed him most. He would not let that happen. No, he’d tell her everything as soon as they were both finally safe. For right now, he would parcel out the truth. He switched to English for the first time since their arrival in Germany. “Okay. I faked that German accent for your benefit.”
“My benefit?” she sputtered.