Uncover Me

by Linda Barlow

  Remembering this conversation put me into such a foul mood that when we reached the excavations and Ellie did push her luck, I lost my fucking temper.

  "I'm not going in there," she said.

  After touring the open dig area, we got to the section that was under the cliff side. Most of the stolen art objects were stored in a cavern beneath the cliff. It was a natural museum, a good place to keep artifacts. The environment was naturally dry, providing an excellent protection against the ravages of climate. But Ellie balked at entering the cave, which was invisible from the outside. We'd found the entrance serendipitously when Erdal, one of the workers, had been puttering around on the cliff side, looking for mineral fragments.

  "It's quite safe," I assured her.

  She shook her head. Her body was rigid, her eyes dark with determination. "No."

  "Most of the artifacts are in there. If you're going to take the pictures we need, this is where you'll have to do it. We'll have to light the cave artificially, and you're the only person who knows how to do that."

  "Taking photographs for your little gang of thieves wasn't part of our agreement."

  I felt my nerves start to fray. We'd already had this debate. "Our agreement, slave, was that you would obey my orders and I would allow you to live."

  "I refuse to participate in your sleazy crime."

  "Keep your voice down. Sinan understands English. A couple of the others might, too."

  "I don't care. Look, Nick, this—all of it—is incredible." She waved her hand at our surroundings, the trenches and mounds, carefully grid marked and separated, level-by-level, in the manner that confirmed the presence of professional archaeologists. "It's even more impressive than I'd imagined. If the earring is authenticated and other objects found, it could be one of the great discoveries of this century. But it's Schliemann all over again, isn't it? He cheated the Turks, too. He absconded with the treasure trove of ancient Troy. I won't be a party to it."

  Fuck. She had to choose this moment to rebel? Already her raised voice was attracting the workers' attention. "You'll do what I tell you."

  "I won't." Her gaze didn't flinch from mine. "This is my line in the sand."

  Well, I wasn't about to have any fucking lines drawn by her. Not here, not today. I clamped both hands on her shoulders and forced her toward the cave. I let my fingers slide up on her neck where some critical nerve bundles were...just to remind her. "If you want to argue with me, do it later, in private. In front of the others, you'll play your role, and do it convincingly."

  But at the mouth of the gloomy, black cavern, she dug in her heels. I could feel her body start to tremble. "I won't. I can't. I'm not going in there."

  The "I can't" didn't register with me. It wasn't until afterward that I understood. All I knew was that despite my absurd efforts to "train" this girl, she was defying me. And that Sinan, Nigel's right-hand man, was watching our altercation avidly.

  Most of the workers with us today were Nigel's crew—men whose primary loyalty was not to my grandfather, but to my twisted cousin. I could not risk making them any more suspicious than they already were.

  I twisted one of Ellie's arms up behind her in a position I knew would hurt. "Let's go, move it." I forced her down, through the black slit in the rock face that marked the entrance to the cave.

  She cried out, surprising me because I hadn't hurt her that much. I already knew quite a bit about her pain tolerance levels. Had I miscalculated? The men were staring and muttering, and Metin jumped down to our side.

  "What's the matter?" he asked, looking from her face to mine.

  Ellie was struggling. Her head turned wildly to Metin. "Help me," she implored.

  Fuck! Metin glared at me, his lips pressed tight. "What are you doing to her?" he asked in Turkish. He sounded harder and a lot less deferent than usual. "You said you weren't going to hurt her—"

  "Shut up or I'll strangle the two of you," I said softly, also in Turkish. "You want to rebel, fine, but you can do it when we're alone. Loyalty and obedience in public. Without it we're blown."

  "I'm sorry, Nick, I—"

  "Save it." Trying to figure an explanation the others would believe, I added, "I'm going to bend down as if to examine her ankle. We'll say she yelped because she twisted it. You, Metin, pretend to look concerned, and as for you, Ellie..."

  I switched rapidly to English, getting as far as, "You can just—" when she interrupted, saying in clear, idiomatic Turkish, "Don't do it. If you touch my foot, I'll kick you in the face. Enough. I'm not going into the cave and I'm not taking any photographs."

  Shit! She spoke Turkish. I felt sick. All I could think of was that she must be law enforcement, after all. An agent, maybe for Interpol.

  Fucking hell! She'd lied to me from the start; she'd made a fool out of me. I'd worried myself into a frazzle trying to figure out how to protect her. But she must be capable of protecting herself. I wondered who her backup was, and how long it would be before they struck. If they came in early, they'd destroy everything I'd planned, everything I'd worked my ass off to arrange. I wouldn't be able to save my grandfather, after all.

  I lost it. I hissed in English, "We'll pretend I didn't hear that. We'll hope that none of Nigel's men did. Sinan!" I called the hefty, ugly man over at the same moment as I lifted Ellie into my arms. She fought me, but I was stronger and I used my strength. "The lady has tripped and sprained her ankle. I'm going to take her out to my boat, ice it, and bandage it up. Oversee things here for me, will you? Metin will help you, and I'll be back later."

  "There's an electrical problem with the boat," Metin reminded me. "Someone slipped on board last night—I told you—"

  "I won't need the lights for this." Still fuming, I hauled Ellie, who had gone curiously quiet, back up the track toward the sea, not setting her down until we were well out of sight of Sinan and his cohorts.

  "You deceiving bitch." I dumped her in the shelter of the rock-studded mountains. "Who the hell are you working for?"

  "Just because I speak Turkish—"

  "You're some kind of fucking law enforcement agent, aren't you?"

  She shook her head vigorously.

  "Why are you even denying it?" I felt like strangling the bitch. For real, this time.

  "I speak Turkish because I lived here as a child. I didn't tell you because it seemed safer to play dumb. I didn't mean to reveal it back there, but I was scared and angry, and you—"

  "I'm fed up with your lies." Seizing her by the wrist, I hauled her along with me. "You'll talk, damn you. You'll tell me the truth."

  "You're hurting me."

  "Tough. I'm sick to death of all you sneaky government types. You're going to find out that it was real unprofessional to put yourself at my mercy."

  "Nick, please. You're making a mistake."

  "Be quiet, or I'll touch your neck the way I did that first morning. Only this time you won't wake up. Now walk."

  For once, she obeyed me.

  I rowed us out to the sailboat, which was anchored nearby in the quiet bay where we'd landed two days before. It was windy and the sea was rough. Spray doused us as I wrestled with the oars. I was glad of it—I had to expend the violent energy somehow. I was so fucking furious my vision seemed red around the edges. I don't often blow my temper, but god help the people around me when I do.

  Who the fuck was she? Why was she here?

  Chapter 21

  ELLIE

  I was cursing myself for my stupidity. It had been a bad time to defy my captor—when there were so many other people around. The real reason was that I hadn't been able to enter that cavern. My claustrophobic anxiety about dark, tight places had risen up and engulfed me. My heart had started pounding and I hadn't been able to catch my breath. My legs had gone weak and if Nick hadn't lifted me off my feet, I think I would have collapsed.

  I hated it. I felt so goddamn weak and useless when the panic struck me. My thoughts and emotions would start to spiral down in an obsessive man
ner and I couldn't seem to stop it no matter how hard I tried.

  Now that I was safely away from the cavern, my panic had receded.

  Now I had something real to fret about.

  He marched me down to the master stateroom. He seemed tense, as if he were expecting me to launch an attack on him. Did he think I was capable of fighting him? What was I, some federal agent who knew judo or kickboxing? I tried my best to seem innocent and non-threatening. But then I thought, screw it. I wasn't going to cower. I threw back my shoulders and straightened my spine.

  He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt today. His shirt was damp from the spray. I could see his hard muscles flexing under the cotton. I wanted to touch him, find his nipples, graze them with my teeth. Shit, what was wrong with me? I had made him furious, and god only knew what he was going to do to me now, but still I wanted him. I'd been pumping his grandfather for information about his childhood. Was I falling for the guy? Was there no end to my folly where he was concerned?

  As soon as we got into the stateroom, he slammed the door and crowded me against the wall where the sink was, his tall body hovering over me in a pissed-off, threatening manner. "Hepburn sent you, didn't he?"

  "Who the fuck is Hepburn?"

  "Who the fuck are you?"

  "I'm the same person I've always been. I have the same reason for being in Turkey. I just know Turkish. That's the only difference."

  He grabbed my shoulders and shook me, as if he expected my secret identity card to tumble out of my clothes. "You're a professional. You're with Interpol, or maybe even the CIA. Or the Turkish authorities, I suppose."

  "That's ridiculous."

  "Is it?"

  "Yes!" I clutched his forearms and tried to pry his hands off me, but he was too strong. "Look, you douche, I lived in Turkey from the time I was seven to the time I was fourteen. My mother was working on a dig in Central Anatolia. I went to school in Ankara. All my friends spoke Turkish, so I learned it without even trying, the way children do."

  "If that's true, why didn't you say so?"

  "Because I was terrified. I figured you'd never believe that an American tourist could speak Turkish. It's not exactly taught in U.S. high schools."

  "Why didn't you admit it later, when you were no longer in fear for your life?"

  I hesitated, and he answered for me: "Because it allowed you to learn things you otherwise wouldn't have known. Right?"

  He pushed down on my shoulders. Again, as so often before, he forced me to my knees. He loved doing that. I didn't even resist. I knew how to sink down gracefully now. He pressed me down in front of him so my head was about at the level of his crotch. As he jerked me against him, I felt him harden, same as always. He might be furious, but he still wanted me.

  When he hardened, I softened and grew damp. That always happened, too, dammit. Why, why did it keep happening? What was this blazing monster of need and desire that roared between us? Why wouldn't it leave me alone?

  Nick grabbed a piece of rope from one of the shelves and bound my wrists behind my back. He wasn't gentle. He wrapped the rope up, almost as high as my elbows, and pulled it tight. It strained the muscles in my arms and shoulders. It fucking hurt. I yelled in protest. "You sadistic bastard!"

  "Did I ever pretend to be anything else?" He grabbed a big hunk of my hair and wrenched my head back so I was looking up at him. "Tell me the truth."

  "Fine—knowing Turkish did allow me to learn things. This in particular—you're the one who's involved in human trafficking. You told Nigel you were going to sell me. You said I was special merchandise, and you were going to sell me to someone who likes to brutalize and humiliate American girls. Which is what you like to do yourself, isn't it?"

  He didn't reply. He had gone still. He was probably trying to remember what else he had said in front of me, thinking I didn't understand.

  "What your grandfather and your cousin are doing is bad, but it pales beside your crimes. Do you know what happens to girls who are sold into sexual slavery? Do you even care? Do you stroke yourself while thinking about it? Does the idea of raping and dominating females get you off?"

  "As a matter of fact, it does." His voice had turned icy. He came around in front of me, where I could see him. He reached out and tore open my shirt, leaving my breasts bare except for my bra. Then he opened his jeans and grabbed his erect cock in one hand and started doing exactly that—stroking himself. "Dominating you, in particular, Helen of Troy. It gets me off like nothing I've ever felt before." And while I knelt there watching because for some reason I couldn't take my eyes off him, he stroked faster and faster, while staring at me kneeling, my arms painfully trussed up behind my back, until groaning, he came, directing his cum at my face and neck and breasts.

  "Fuck you," I said, because otherwise I was going to break down and cry. I hated him in that moment. I hated him because even as he humiliated me, I wanted to touch him, kiss him, feel him pounding between my thighs.

  He got a towel from the head and wiped his seed off my skin. Then he untied me and dragged me over to the bed. I thought he was going to rape me...if he could get it up again, which he probably could if he mistreated me some more.

  But he left me there and stomped to the door. "I'll deal with you later." At the door, he paused, his back to me, his body stiff. "I used to think I could never sink to Nigel's depths," he said in a hollow tone. "Obviously, I was wrong."

  He went out and slammed the door.

  Chapter 22

  ELLIE

  It was getting dark. I had been alone all day in Nick's cabin on the boat, and now night was falling. I was curled up on the bunk, staring at the blackening sky through the porthole and wondering when he would return. The lights didn't work. I had flicked switches and checked bulbs to no avail. Then I remembered Metin's words, "There's an electrical problem with the boat."

  How long was he going to leave me alone? All day I'd been expecting his return. And dreading it. I kept reliving every nasty thing he had done to me, of which there had been many. We'd had exactly one sweet sexual exchange, but we'd both been drunk out of our heads at the time. Everything else we'd done together had been twisted and dark.

  Hours passed, but there was no footfall, no sound except the creak of boards and the lapping of waves against the hull.

  What if he left me here all night?

  Does the idea of raping and dominating females get you off?

  As a matter of fact, it does.

  Was that true, or had we just been taunting each other? It was clear that he liked the rough stuff, but that wasn't the whole story. He could have fucked me many times over, but he hadn't. When I'd tried to get him off with a blowjob the other night, he'd interrupted me and given me an orgasm instead.

  He'd noted his grandfather had been so successful because Sir Avery trusted his instincts. My instincts kept telling me that there was something more to Nicholas Gabriel than he had permitted me to see. Was I an idiot to have such feelings? He was years older than I was, and I'd only had one serious relationship with a guy before. What the hell did I know? Compared to him I was a beginner at the whole kink, yearning and obsession thing.

  My so-called instincts were probably born of the need to survive in a dangerous situation. From the morning we'd met, the bright-haired god had been the only thing standing between me and endless night. I'd tolerate anything he did to me—I'd even eroticize it—as long as I could keep breathing.

  I didn't know what to believe anymore. And, as it continued to get darker, I stopped caring, because with the dark came my fear.

  I was mentally exhausted and more than a little confused. Weak, in other words. Prey to the terrors that came by night. More so than usual, I guess.

  Because Nick had been so pissed over the revelation that I knew Turkish, I'd never gotten the chance to explain why I hadn't been able to bring myself to enter that cave. I'd never told him I was claustrophobic because I'd been afraid he might use it against me. Revealing a weakness to an adv
ersary would be foolish.

  I sat up and peered out the porthole. There was no moon. The sky was slightly overcast; it seemed too cloudy for stars. Out in the Aegean, so far from city lights and inhabited land, the darkness was absolute. Impenetrable. Before long, I couldn't see my body, not even the ghostly outline of my fingers held up in front of my face. But I could feel my body. My harsh breathing, my skittering heartbeat.

  Soon my heart was flapping as if it meant to take wing and fly away. My belly cramped and my face was as hot as my hands and feet were cold. I was breathing too fast, using up too much air. I tried to tell myself that I would not run out of air, that it was impossible to run out of air. But my sensible, rational mind held no sway over the childish part of me that feared the blackness and dreaded suffocation.

  Control yourself, you dumbass.

  But I could not.

  Sweating, I flung away the blanket. The beating of my heart was so strong and painful that I expected each hammer stroke to be the last. It was so ironic. I'd rebelled against Nick at the dig this morning because I couldn't face entering a dark, subterranean cavern. I'd been afraid the place would bring on a crippling anxiety attack. I'd avoided it, incurring Nick's fury in the process, only to suffer the full effects of the attack here, instead.

  What a stupid fool I'd been. Surely the cave wouldn't have been as dark as this tiny cabin. In there, at least, I wouldn't have been alone. Nick would have been with me. Nick, who protected me, Nick who had promised never to leave me alone in the dark.

  I began to cry silently. I curled up in a fetal position on the bed. Unreality was settling over me. I began to wonder if I really existed, if anything existed around me besides endless night.