Volcano

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Volcano Page 18

by Patricia Rice


  Scrubbing her hair with shampoo, Penelope thrust aside her foolish worries. Once wouldn’t hurt. She had Beth to worry about. He had Raul and Tammy. They’d move on.

  She shrieked as a large shape shoved aside the shower curtain and stepped in.

  “Charlie!” Foolishly, she crossed her arms over her soapy breasts as he loomed over her.

  Lifting his eyebrows, he contemplated her crossed arms with dead seriousness. “You only reveal yourself in moonlight?” he asked without inflection.

  Water pelted down his shoulder and arm as he reached for her. He hadn’t combed his hair before entering the shower, but water quickly plastered it to the side of his head. Penelope could see the bristles of his beard as he pulled her closer.

  “Charlie, not again,” she whispered. “We can’t.”

  “You have a good reason why not?” he asked with a degree of interest that apparently involved the soap on her breasts more than her words.

  “I don’t like sex,” she whispered in what she knew now was a ridiculous defense.

  Lifting his gaze from her breasts, he quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t like sex,” he repeated solemnly. “Tell me, when was the last time you had sex?”

  He smeared circles in the foam, and Penelope quivered. He was doing it to her again, turning her mind to mush. She leaned back against the cool tiles and he stepped closer, until his arousal pressed firmly against her belly.

  “I don’t like men.” That wasn’t what she meant, but she couldn’t think straight with all that masculinity pressing her against the wall.

  “Since when? Since the jock in college?”

  She expected laughter, but when she glanced up, he was beaming with delight and a very definite smirk of male arrogance. The warm water splashed off his wide shoulders, streaking through the soap covering her and running in rivulets through the flattened hair on his chest. The tiles at her back were no longer cool. The effect of his grin and his body bubbled through what remained of her brain.

  “Protection,” she managed to whimper. She knew she was whimpering. His fingers had turned her breasts into wild creatures demanding instant nurturing, and the hollow in her belly had opened so wide, she thought it would devour her from the inside out. She instinctively rose to her toes, offering herself as a target. She’d uttered her last intelligent word, and her mind had deteriorated to purple metaphors.

  Charlie unfolded his fist and offered her the package within. “I remembered.”

  Gratefully, Penelope grabbed the foil, tore it open, and with trembling hands, smoothed it over his erection. It didn’t help that Charlie groaned the entire time she worked at it.

  “We’re gonna have to come up with a better solution in the future,” he muttered, sliding his hands to her buttocks and lifting.

  Penelope scarcely heard him. Grabbing his shoulders, she covered his beard-stubbled face with kisses until he caught her mouth with his and pressed her solidly against the wall. His tongue thrust relentlessly between her teeth, robbing her of breath and all ability to reason.

  He swallowed her cry as he thrust into her. Water and shampoo ran down her face as she leaned her head back, lifted her hips, and wrapped her legs around him. He took her weight and used it against her, prying her thighs wide as he drove into her, lifting her higher, taking her further, until she soared and he remained rooted to the ground, giving and giving until she could take no more.

  As she floated back to the ground with the last spasms of her contractions, Charlie exploded inside her, holding her still with his arms around her back and her head on his shoulders as he filled her, until they both melted and slid down beneath the pelting water.

  “Don’t go,” he demanded as Penelope tried to stir into a more comfortable position.

  How could she stay?

  Weeping through the pounding water, she kissed him until his great body shuddered against her.

  NINETEEN

  “I have to get back to work, Charlie!” Wearing a tailored polyester dress that swept about her knees, her wet hair gathered in a thick French braid, Penelope paced up and down the suite. “I’ve done everything for you that I can. Now I have to salvage my job.”

  “You all but declare Jacobsen is dealing with the Russian Mafia, that he and my stepfather own equal shares of the Foundation, that in all probability they’re in cahoots, and you want me to walk off and leave you here? What the hell do you think I am?” Firmly planted in front of the door, Charlie watched her with growing fury.

  “A sensible man with better things to do than baby-sit a grown woman!”

  “I don’t call sending you home babysitting. I call it sensible. And I sure as hell gave you credit for more intelligence than to pull this stunt.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you they searched that cabin. They know who you are. They didn’t murder Michel because they didn’t like his looks. It was a warning. And we ignored that warning. Now we have to deal with it.”

  She flung up her arms in exasperation and finally turned to look at him. “Charlie, you just don’t understand. Beth’s insurance doesn’t cover the operation. The only way I can earn enough money to pay for it is to make partner. The only way I can make partner is to show them I can carry out assignments like this one and acquire new clients. If I do this right, I could expand into Castries and all over the Caribbean. I can’t let this opportunity slip through my hands.”

  “Your damned life could slip through your hands! I’m sending you home and that’s the end of it.”

  “You wouldn’t send me home if I were Raul,” she pointed out caustically. “This is one of those men things, isn’t it?”

  “If you were Raul, you’d have the sense to go home,” he grumbled. “That’s probably where he is right now. Now let’s get going before the day security guard comes around and catches us.”

  “Charlie, let’s get something straight here.” Penelope planted herself in front of him, hands on hips. “My father inherited a fortune and expected my mother to stay at home and let him ‘take care’ of her. She never learned to take care of herself—until he gambled their money right into the ground. All my sister wanted to do was raise kids. She married an up-and-coming young lawyer, had two kids, and lost both husband and kids when she lost her ability to see, and her husband decided he’d rather play cop. Now she’s helpless.”

  She stabbed his chest with her finger. “I not only learn from my experience, but the experiences of others. The only person I can rely on is myself. If I think it’s safe to return to the resort, then I’ll return to the resort. You have nothing whatsoever to say about it.”

  He regarded her grimly. “You finished?”

  At her decisive nod, he lifted his backpack. “Then let’s go.”

  Penelope regarded him suspiciously, but with no other choice of action, she shouldered her laptop and picked up her sack of clothing and followed him out.

  They’d walked in the back way from Soufriere. In daylight, they looked conspicuous cutting across barbered lawns and golf cart paths, carrying their luggage. Penelope gazed at the acres of English green lawn, tennis courts, and shuttle bus roads, and wondered if this was another of the Foundation’s resorts. She couldn’t remember seeing the name on the list, but it looked like the kind of place Charlie complained about.

  Well, to each his own, she supposed, shifting the heavy laptop. Before she could adjust the strap, Charlie reached over and took it from her, heaving it over his shoulder.

  “I can carry it,” she hissed, trying not to attract attention from the tourists wandering past.

  He shrugged. “So can I. Just think of me as your packhorse.”

  She wished she could. If she could just picture him as a thickheaded, muscle-bound jock as she had that first day, she could excuse what she had done with him as a moment of irrationality and go on with her life. Apparently the sex had gone to her brain, however, and now she saw him as some kind of leader, a man capable of making intelligent, rational decisions that affected hund
reds of lives. She could almost see him as a corporate executive commanding a payroll of thousands. He had that kind of power and decisiveness. He had taken over her life and the lives of everyone around him these past few days.

  Which was all nonsense and a product of sunstroke and sex. She just wanted to shape him into the kind of man she thought she ought to be making love to, not the kind of man he really was—a male chauvinist pig like every other jock. If he were the kind of man she imagined, he’d be downright dangerous.

  They stopped and bought breakfast in Soufriere like any other tourists wandering the booths along the waterfront. Penelope tried to look for shady characters or anyone following them, but she saw nothing but the fishmongers hawking their wares and the kids dodging in and out between the idle shoppers, selling their malachite necklaces. The sun shone benevolently on the waves lapping the shore. How could anyone believe in danger in a setting like this? She’d be perfectly safe in the isolation of the resort, feeding software into PCs and teaching the staff how to use it.

  “There’s the taxi now. Come on.” Charlie grabbed her elbow and steered her toward the dock.

  For a moment, Penelope felt as if she’d been thrown back to that first day when he’d practically kidnapped her off the plane. She dragged her feet until she realized the water taxi was the easiest way back to the resort.

  Just so there was no misunderstanding, Penelope announced the name of the resort as her destination before climbing into the fishing boat and taking the seat on the far side of the pail of fish bait. She didn’t like it when Charlie followed her in, but he probably had things back at the cabin he needed to collect. And maybe he had the old-fashioned notion of “seeing her home.” That was kind of sweet. Actually, she was relieved. She didn’t like the idea of walking in on any more bats or tarantulas. She could get used to having a man around to handle some of life’s more trying aspects.

  As the boat roared into the deepening water of the cove, Charlie pulled his baseball cap over his eyes and fished in his pocket for the wallet he’d retrieved from her purse. Now that they were parting ways, it was only sensible to let him have his wallet back. She hadn’t objected to his prying in her purse to get it. After all, he’d done it for her own good at the time.

  “Here’s a hundred if you can get us into Vieux Fort before noon.” Charlie waved the bill and shouted over the roar of the boat’s motor.

  Eyes widening, Penelope stared at him in shock. “That’s way out of the way! The resort is just around the coast a little. Why can’t you drop me off there first?”

  “Because we’re not going there.” Slapping his mirrored sunglasses on his nose, Charlie leaned back and rested his elbows against the rear seat as the boat changed direction for the southernmost point of the island.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Penelope jerked out her purse. She didn’t carry hundred-dollar bills, but she still had most of her traveler’s checks. If that’s what it took, two could play this game.

  She rummaged through the contents of her normally well- organized purse. Calculator, Kleenex, cosmetics case... Where the hell was her wallet?

  Panicking, she started tossing the contents on her lap, one by one. No wallet. No passport. No money. No identification. This couldn’t be happening. She’d held on to her purse through crashing cars and jungles and midnight flights from the police. No one could have stolen her wallet.

  Except Charlie.

  Stomach tightening in an all too familiar knot, she turned and glared at the man beside her basking casually in the sun. “Where’s my wallet?” she demanded.

  “In a safe place,” he answered calmly, not even lifting his head to look at her.

  She’d only hurt her hand if she punched him. Too furious to speak, too furious to even consider consequences, Penelope abandoned any thought of propriety, lifted the pail of fish bait, and dumped the slimy contents over his fat head.

  Charlie yelped and slid backward. She pounced on his backpack.

  The boat slopped water over the side as it tipped back and forth. The driver shouted at her. Penelope didn’t care. She damned well wouldn’t let this man, any man, get the better of her.

  She upended the backpack in the bottom of the boat. Jockey shorts, jeans, socks, and T-shirts tumbled out. She grabbed his shaving case and ripped it open. Nothing. She ran her hand over the bottom of the bag, searching for zippers or other openings. Nothing.

  The more frantically she behaved, the more Charlie calmed down. After dipping a dirty shirt in the water to wipe his face, he jerked the pack from her grasp and began stowing his gear. “I said a safe place. Backpacks can get stolen.”

  Fear gripped her, the kind of paralyzing fear she’d known right after Beth’s accident, when she’d been helpless to do anything but watch her twin fight death. Clenching her fists and trying to disguise her panic, Penelope spoke carefully. “I’ll never forgive you for this, Charlie. Never. You have no right at all to do this to me.”

  “I got you into this, and I’ll get you out,” he stated calmly. “I’d rather you hated me alive than loved me dead.”

  “I more than hate you, Charlie Smith,” she spat. “I loathe, despise, abhor, and detest you. And you still can’t stop me. As soon as we get back to Miami, I’ll turn around and buy a ticket back.”

  He looked at her with interest. “Did they teach you all those fancy words in college? Maybe I missed a few things. But that still doesn’t make you any smarter than me.”

  She didn’t like the way he said that. Maybe she’d been a little hasty in declaring her intentions. Maybe she should have waited until she had her passport in her hands before she opened her big mouth.

  Maybe she ought to just give it up and rob a bank for her sister’s operation.

  Gloomily staring out at the beautiful crystalline water she had yet to play in, Penelope didn’t say another word.

  Charlie didn’t waste his time worrying about his companion’s silence. The fish bait was an interesting new routine, but he’d lived with a lot worse than the smell of fish. If she could stand the stink, so could he. That he’d gotten so far under her icy accountant’s skin that she could explode was the interesting point.

  He’d already decided to ignore his niggling suspicions about Raul and concentrate on a plan to save his company and maybe uncover Jacobsen. Penelope’s silence gave him time to refine his plan. She did “frosty” real well, but he figured he could defrost her when the time was right. Of course, from the looks of it, the time wouldn’t be right until he took care of this job fixation of hers.

  As they climbed onto the dock in Vieux Fort, Charlie kept a sharp lookout on his unwilling companion while he hastily splashed in the water to remove the worst of the lingering stink. He didn’t want Penelope running off and getting into who-knows-what trouble while his back was turned. But she watched him bathe and followed him into a taxi without comment.

  At the airport he bypassed the lines of tourists in the terminal by heading directly toward the ramshackle hangar where his plane was stored. His pilot and a customs inspector were already waiting when they arrived.

  “I’ve brought another passenger, Jim,” Charlie announced, producing his passport and Penelope’s from his pocket and handing them over. Penelope’s eyes dripped icy disdain as the inspector marked the books and handed them back to Charlie. He could hear her diatribe on that now.

  “Weather’s fine. No problem.” Jim hitched their bags into the small plane’s luggage compartment.

  Penelope’s silence was working on his nerves, but Charlie wasn’t about to admit that. He handed her into the plane, and she jerked free of his hold as soon as her feet hit the deck. She was already buckled up by the time he climbed in.

  All right, so he liked hearing her talk. She never rattled on about subjects of no interest to him. Of course, he probably didn’t want to hear the topics rolling around in that powerful mind of hers right now. They probably had to do with international kidnapping and the police. So he was better se
rved by her silence.

  He just wished she understood a little better. He could use her insight on the best way to get the liens off his bank accounts.

  Well, he had lawyers who could handle that. He’d have to concentrate on tracking down the connections between Jacobsen and his unlimited sources of income. That looked like the fastest way of putting the man out of commission. Charlie wasn’t a cop. He couldn’t identify the murdered man in Raul’s shack any more than he could find Michel’s murderer.

  But he’d passed on all the information in his possession to the island police before they’d left this morning. They would have to handle their fair share of the burden while he tracked down the parts important to him.

  Raul was his first goal. He only hoped his partner was being his usual cautious self by not imparting information unless he knew he was safe. Maybe that information implicated Emile, and Raul didn’t feel safe telling it to Charlie.

  He had to find Tammy, which meant meeting Penelope’s sister and her cop ex-brother-in-law.

  As the plane sailed over brilliant aqua waters, Charlie contemplated that little scene. Was Penelope’s sister the stick- her-nose-in-the-air type? She probably wore little pearl necklaces and fancy flowy dresses like her twin. He assumed they lived in one of those uptown condos cluttered with the delicate antiques a man couldn’t sit on to save his soul. The sister would hear him blundering into her expensive Chinese vases and figure Penelope had been having a little R&R with the stableboy.

  Charlie slumped in his seat and rubbed his aching forehead. He knew better than to let his thoughts wander in that direction. Most of it was his own damned fault. He could put on a fancy suit and designer tie and drive up in a BMW—naw, he couldn’t stoop that low, maybe a Corvette—but he just didn’t see any future in it. He was a blue-collar kind of guy and he intended to stay that way. He had season tickets to the Dolphins games, not the opera. He didn’t fit into Penelope’s world any better than she fit into his.

 

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