She seemed to go numb from the pain. She didn't feel anything, except emptiness. She sat down in the chair beside the window and looked out over the ocean. The ship that had been there was gone now, but Lopez knew where the house was, and how well it was guarded. Considering his record, she didn't imagine that he'd give up his quest just because Mi-cah had armed men. Lopez had armed men, too, and all sorts of connections. He also had a reputation for never getting bested by anyone. He would do everything in his power to get Callie back, thinking Micah really cared for her. After all, he'd rescued her hadn't he?
She wrapped her arms around herself, remembering how it had been at Lopez's house, how that henchman had tortured her. She felt sick all over. This was even worse than being in the foster care system. She was all alone. There was no one to offer her protection, to comfort her, to value her. Her whole life had been like that. For just a little while, she'd had some wild idea that she mattered to Micah. What a joke.
At least she knew the truth now, even if she'd had to eavesdrop to learn it. She could only depend on herself. She was going to ask Bojo for a gun and get him to teach her to shoot it. If she had to fend for herself, and apparently she did, she wanted a chance for survival. Micah would probably turn her over to Lopez if he got a guarantee that Lopez would leave his father alone, she reasoned irrationally. The terror she felt was so consuming that she felt her whole body shaking with it.
When Micah opened the door to her room, she had to fight not to rage at him. It wasn't his fault that he didn't care for her, she told herself firmly. And she loved his father as much as he did. She managed to look at him without flinching, but the light in her eyes had gone out. They were quiet, haunted eyes with no life in them at all.
Micah saw that and frowned. She was different. "What's wrong? You're safe," he assured her. "Lopez was only letting us know he's nearby. Believe me, if he'd wanted you dead, you'd be dead."
She swallowed. "I figured that out," she said in a subdued tone. "What now?"
The frown deepened. "We wait, of course. He'll make another move. We'll draw back and let him think we didn't take the threat seriously. That will pull him in."
She lifted her eyes to his face. "Why don't you let me go sight-seeing alone?" she offered. "That would probably do the trick."
"And risk letting him take you again?" he asked solemnly.
She laughed without humor and turned her eyes back to the ocean. "Isn't that what you have in mind already?"
The silence behind her was arctic. "Would you like to explain that question?"
"In ancient times, when they wanted to catch a lion, they tethered a live kid goat to a post and baited him with it. If the goat lived, they turned him loose, but if the lion got him, it didn't really matter. I mean, what's a goat more or less?"
Micah had never felt so many conflicting emotions at the same time. Foremost of them was shame. "You heard me talking to Bojo?"
She nodded.
His indrawn breath was the only sound in the room. "Callie," he began, without knowing what he could say to repair the damage.
"It's okay," she said to the picture window. "I never had any illusions about where I fit in your family. I still don't."
His teeth ground together. Why should it be so painful to hear her say that? She was the interloper. She and her horrible mother had destroyed his relationship with his own father. He was alone because of her, so why should he feel guilty? But he did. He felt guilty and ashamed. He hadn't really meant everything he'd said to Bojo. Somewhere there was a vague jealousy of the easy friendship she had with his right-hand man, with the tenderness she gave Bojo, when she fought Micah tooth and nail.
"I'll do whatever you want me to," she said after a minute. "But I want a gun, and I want to learn how to use it." She stood up and turned to face him, defiant in the shark-themed white T-shirt and blue jeans she'd changed into. "Because if Lopez gets me this time, he's getting a dead woman. I'll never go through that again."
Micah actually winced. "He's not getting you," he said curtly.
"Better me than Dad," she said with a cold smile. "Right?"
He slammed the door and walked toward her. She didn't even try to back up. She glared at him from a face that was tight with grief and misery, the tracks of tears still visible down her cheeks.
"Do you actually think I'd let him take you, even to save Dad?" he demanded furiously. "What sort of man do you think I am?"
"I have no idea," she said honestly. "You're a stranger. You always have been."
He searched her blue eyes with irritation and impatience. "You're a prime example of the reason I prefer mercenary women," he said without thinking. "You're nothing but a pain in the neck."
"Thank you. I love compliments."
"You probably thrive on insults," he bit off. Then he remembered how she'd had to live all those years, and could have slapped himself for taunting her.
"If they're all you ever hear, you get used to them," she agreed without rancor. "I'm tough. I've had to be. So do your worst, Micah," she added. "Tie me to a palm tree and wait in ambush for Lopez to shoot at me, I don't care."
But she did care. There was real pain in those blue eyes, which she was trying so valiantly to disguise with sarcasm. It hurt her that Micah would use her to draw Lopez in. That led him to the question of why it hurt her. And when he saw that answer in her eyes, he could have gone through the floor with shame.
She...loved him. He felt his heart stop and then start again as the thought went through him like electricity. She almost certainly loved him, and she was doing everything in her power to keep him from seeing it. He remembered her arms around him, her mouth surrendering to his, her body fluid and soft under his hands as she yielded instantly to his ardor. A woman with her past would have a hard time with lovemaking, yet she'd been willing to let him do anything he liked to her. Why hadn't he questioned that soft yielding? Why hadn't he known? And she'd heard what he said to Bojo, feeling that way...
"I swear to you, I won't let Lopez get you," he said in a firm, sincere tone.
"You mean, you'll try," she replied dully."I want a gun, Micah."
"Over my dead body," he said harshly. "You're not committing suicide."
Her lower lip trembled. She felt trapped. She looked trapped.
That expression ignited him like fireworks. He jerked her into his tall, powerful body, and bent to her mouth before she realized his intent. His warm, hard mouth bit into her lips with ardent insistence as his arms enveloped her completely against him. He felt his body swell instantly, as it always did when he touched her. He groaned against her mouth and deepened the kiss, lost in the wonder of being loved...
Dizzily he registered that she was making a halfhearted effort to push him away. He felt her cold, nervous hands on his chest. He lifted his head and looked at her wary, uncertain little face.
"I won't hurt you," he said softly.
"You're angry," she choked. "It's a punishment..."
"I'm not and it isn't." He bent again, and kissed her eyelids. His hands worked their way up into the thickness of her hair and then down her back, slowly pressing her to him.
She shivered at the feel of him against her hips.
He chuckled at that telltale sign. "Most men would kill to have such an immediate response to a woman. But I don't suppose you know that."
"You shouldn't..."
He lifted his head again and gave her a look full of amused worldly wisdom. "You think I can will it not to happen, I guess?"
She flushed.
"Sorry, honey, but it doesn't work that way." He moved away just enough to spare her blushes, but his hands slid to her waist and held her in front of him. "I want you to stay in the house," he said, as if he hadn't done anything outrageous at all. "Stay away from windows and porches, too."
She searched his eyes. "If Lopez doesn't see me," she began.
"He knows you're here," he said with faint distaste. "I don't want him to know exactly where you are.
I'll have men on every corner of the property and the house for the duration. I won't let you be captured."
She leaned her forehead against him, shivering. "You can't imagine...how it was," she said huskily.
His arms tightened, holding her close. He cursed himself for ever having thought of putting her deliberately in the line of fire. He couldn't imagine he'd been that callous, even briefly. It had been the logical thing to do, and he'd never let emotion get in the way of work. But Callie wasn't like him. She had feelings that were easily bruised, and he'd done a lot of damage already. Those nightmares she had should have convinced him how traumatic her captivity had been, but he hadn't even taken that into consideration when he was setting up Lopez by bringing Callie here.
"I'm sorry," he bit off the words. He wondered if she knew how hard it was to say that.
She blinked away sudden tears. "It's not your fault, you're just trying to save Dad. I love Dad, too, Micah," she said at his chest. "I don't blame you for doing everything you can to keep him safe."
His eyes closed and he groaned silently. "I'm going to do everything I can to keep you safe, too," he told her.
She shrugged. "I know." She pulled away from him with a faint smile to soften the rejection. "Thanks."
He studied her face and realized that he'd never really looked at her so closely before. She had a tiny line of freckles just over her straight little nose. Her light blue eyes had flecks of dark blue in them and she had the faintest little dimple in her cheek when she smiled. He touched her pretty mouth with his fingertips. It was slightly swollen from the hungry, insistent pressure of his lips. She looked rumpled from his ardor, and he liked that, too.
"Take a picture," she said uncomfortably.
"You're pretty," he murmured with an odd smile. "I'm not, and stop trying to flatter me," she replied, shifting away from him.
"It isn't flattery." He bent and brushed his mouth lightly over her parted lips. She gasped and hung there, her eyes wide and vulnerable on his face when he drew back. Her reaction made him feel taller. He smiled softly. "You don't give an inch, do you? I suppose it's hard for you to trust anyone, after the life you've led."
"I trust Dad," she snapped.
"Yes, but you don't trust me, do you?"
"Not an inch," she agreed, pulling away. "And you don't have to kiss me to make me feel better, either."
"It was to make me feel better," he pointed out, smiling at her surprise. "It did, too."
She shifted her posture a little, confused.
His dark eyes slid over her body, noting the little points that punctuated her breasts and the unsteady breathing she couldn't control. Yes, she wanted him.
She folded her arms over her breasts, curious about why he was staring at them. They felt uncomfortable, but she didn't know why.
"I didn't tell Lisse that you were an embarrassment to me," he said suddenly, and watched her face color.
"It's okay," she replied tersely. "I know I don't have good dress sense. I don't care about clothes most of the time."
"I'm used to women who do, and who enjoy letting men pay for them. The more expensive they are, the better." He sounded jaded and bitter.
She studied his hard face, recognizing disillusionment and reticence. She moved a step closer involuntarily. "You sound...I don't know...cheated, maybe."
"I feel cheated," he said shortly. His eyes were full of harsh memories. "No man likes to think that he's paying for sex."
"Then why do you choose women who want expensive gifts from you?" she asked him bluntly. His teeth met. "I don't know."
"Don't you, really?" she asked, her eyes soft and curious. "You've always said you don't want to get married, so you pick women who don't want to, either. But that sort of woman only lasts as long as the money does. Or am I wrong?"
He looked down at her from his great height with narrowed eyes and wounded pride. "I suppose you're one of those women who would rush right over to a penniless man and offer to get a second job to help him out of debt!"
She smiled sheepishly, ignoring the sarcasm. "I guess I am." She shrugged. "I scare men off. They don't want me because I'm not interested in what sort of car they drive or the expensive places they can afford to take me to. I like to go walking in the country and pick wildflowers." She peered up at him with a mischievous smile. "The last man I said that to left town two days before he was supposed to. He was doing some accounts for Mr. Kemp and he left skid marks. Mr. Kemp thought it was hilarious. He was a notorious ladies' man, it seems, and he'd actually seduced Mr. Kemp's last secretary."
Micah didn't smile, as she'd expected him to. He looked angry.
She held up a hand. "I don't have designs on you, honest. I know you don't like wildflowers and Lisse is your sort of woman. I'm not interested in you that way, anyhow."
"Considering the way you just kissed me, you might have trouble proving that," he commented dryly.
She cleared her throat. "You kiss very nicely, and I have to get experience where I can."
"Is that it?" he asked dubiously.
She nodded enthusiastically. She swallowed again as the terror of the last hour came back and the eyes she lifted to his were suddenly haunted. "Micah, he's never going to stop, is he?"
"Probably not, unless he has help." He lifted an eyebrow. "I have every intention of helping him, once I've spoken with the authorities."
"What authorities?"
"Never mind. You know nothing. Got it?"
She saluted him. "Yes, sir."
He made a face. "Come on out. We'll have Mac make some sandwiches and coffee. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."
"I could eat something."
He hesitated before he opened her door. "I really meant what I told you," he said. "Lopez won't get within fifty yards of you as long as there's a breath in my body."
"Thanks," she said unsteadily.
He felt cold inside. He couldn't imagine what had made him tell such lies to Bojo, where she might overhear him. He hadn't meant it, that was honest, but he knew she thought he had. She didn't trust him anymore.
He opened the door to let her go through first. A whiff of the soft rose fragrance she wore drifted up into his nostrils and made his heart jump. She always smelled sweet, and she had a loving nature that was miraculous considering her past. She gave with both hands. He thought of her with Bojo and something snapped inside him.
"Bojo's off limits," he said as she slid past him. "So don't get too attached to him!"
She looked up at him. "What a bunch of sour grapes," she accused, “just because I withdrew my proposal of marriage to you!" She stalked off down the hall.
He opened his mouth to speak, and just laughed instead.
Chapter Nine
They ate lunch, but conversation among the mercenaries was subdued and Callie got curious glances from all of them. One man, the Mexican called Ro-drigo, gave her more scrutiny than the rest. He was a handsome man, tall, slender, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a grace of movement that reminded her of Micah. But he had a brooding look about him, and he seemed to be always watching her. Once, he smiled, but Micah's appearance sent him away before he could speak to her.
After lunch, Callie asked Bojo about him.
"Rodrigo lost his sister to Lopez's vicious temper," he told her. "She was a nightclub singer who Lopez took a fancy to. He forced himself on her after she rejected Lopez's advances and... She died trying to get away from him. Rodrigo knows what was done to you, and he's angry. You remind him of his sister. She, too, had blue eyes."
"But he's Latin," she began.
"His father was from Denmark," he said with a grin. "And blond."
"Imagine that!"
He gave her a wry glance. "He likes you," he said. "But he isn't willing to risk Micah's temper to approach you."
"You do," she said without thinking.
"Ah, but I am indispensable," he told her. "Ro-drigo is not. He has enemies in many countries overseas and also, Lopez has a con
tract out on him. This is the only place he has left to go where he has any hope of survival. He wouldn't dare risk alienating Micah."
She frowned. "I can't think why approaching me would do that. Micah tolerates me, but he still doesn't really like me," she pointed out. "I overheard what he said to you, about using me as bait."
He smiled. "Yes. Curious, is it not, that when one of the other men suggested the same thing, he paid a trip to the dentist?"
"Why?"
"Micah knocked out one of his teeth," he confided. "The men agreed that no one would make the suggestion twice."
She caught her breath. "But I heard him tell you that very thing...!"
"You heard what he wanted me to think," he continued. "Micah is jealous of me," he added outrageously, and grinned. "You and I are friendly and we have no hostility between us. You don't want anything from me, you see, or from him. He has no idea how to deal with such a woman. He has become used to buying expensive things at a woman's whim, yet you refuse even the gift of a few items of necessary clothing." He shrugged. "It is new for him that neither his good looks nor his wealth make an impression on you. I think he finds that a challenge and it irritates him. He is also very private about his affairs. He doesn't want the men to see how vulnerable he is where you are concerned," he mused. "He had to assign me, along with Peter and Rodrigo, to keep a constant eye on you. He didn't like that. Peter and Rodrigo are no threat, of course, but he is afraid that you are attracted to me." He grinned at her surprise. "I can understand why he thinks this. I hardly need elaborate on my attributes. I am urbane, handsome, sophisticated, generous..." He paused to glance at her wide-eyed, bemused face. "Shall I continue? I should hate to miss acquainting you with any of my virtues."
She realized he was teasing then, and she chuckled. "Okay, go ahead, but I'm not making you any marriage proposals."
His eyebrows arched. "Why not?"
Books By Diana Palmer Page 285