by Tina Donahue
Apprehension crawled from Mike’s belly to his throat. Why did the door move so slowly? Was it Lily or Violet on the other side? Were they checking on him and Ben? Or did they have something terrible to relate?
The door inched a bit farther.
His heart pounded into his ribs. Nude, Jasmine slipped inside. The thin light wandered her body’s luxurious curves, defining her erect nipples, the fleshy slit between her legs. He swallowed. She stilled upon seeing Ben.
Mike expected her to recover and come to him. She did not. Stepping lightly, she went to Ben’s side, her gaze lowered to the pistol.
What’s she doing? Mike leaned forward. She reached for the gun. Why? Did she plan to put it in another room? Give it to him? No. Her hand stopped short of the barrel, her fingers wobbling as if she were fighting not to take it. He waited for her to move away. She remained in her uncomfortable position, hand still outstretched to his Glock. He counted off the seconds. One. Two. Three. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Her arm shook. A dog barked nearby. She jerked back her hand.
Mike remembered to breathe. She straightened and came to him. Tear tracks glistened on her face. Her eyes were huge, wet, new tears collecting on her lashes.
She whispered, “Don’t let me do it.”
His belly knotted at the horror and plea in her voice. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, holding firm as he brought her down to the mattress. “Do what?”
“I can’t let you leave.”
“I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You are.” Pain and rage flooded her eyes. She turned her wrist, trying to release it. His grip tightened. Frowning, she clawed his hand and hissed, “You want to leave, but I’ll never allow it. If you try, I’ll—” She stopped on a gasp. Brows lifted, she shivered, her free hand falling away from his.
Plump tears dripped from her chin, plopping on his thigh. His pulse accelerated. He made certain it didn’t affect his voice. “It’s okay.” His tone soothed, and he hoped, convinced. “You don’t have it in you to hurt me. Even if you did and tried, I’d stop you.”
“Oh God.”
His chest quieted her cry, his arm holding her to him as she sobbed. Awakened by her outburst, Ben gaped. His free hand beat the air to catch Mike’s attention. His mouth formed the words: What happened?
Mike shook his head to keep Ben from standing or saying anything. Right now, he had to win back Jasmine’s trust and persuade her to return to Lily’s room. After, he’d tell Ben how she’d tried to take the gun, convincing the boy to guard her so she couldn’t find another weapon, a knife in the kitchen, a fireplace iron, who knew? Alone again, he’d have a chance to get free. This time he couldn’t fail. There might not be another opportunity.
He loosened his hold. She reacted immediately, her arms circling his shoulders. “Don’t tell me to leave.”
“I’m not.”
Her kisses were unbelieving, frantic, fueled by her doubt and the yearning.
He remained calm, patient. His tenderness slowly damped her frenzy. Her lips didn’t press as hard. Her tongue retreated from his mouth, giving him a chance to dominate. It quieted her further. Breathing more easily, she lifted her face to his, her eyes swollen.
Desire and what felt like love squeezed his throat. He’d never known any woman as tortured or as brave. She’d battled her urges, begged for his help, terrified of harming him. He delivered a gentle kiss to each lid. “Tell me what you want.”
Pulling the sheet away and snaking down his body, she curled her fingers around his toes, kissing the square tips. “To stay here.”
How long? He pretended not to understand her. “In bed?”
“Right where I am now.” She squeezed his toes. “You have nice feet.” Eyes closed, she gave them another kiss.
He shared a glance with Ben. The boy lifted his shoulders, a clear sign he didn’t know what was going on or what to expect.
Mike asked, “You’re going to stay down there and sleep?”
“I’m going to watch you.” She draped her other arm over his ankle, her gaze meeting his. “To make certain you don’t leave.”
It was her only chance to regain some control. The vigil would assure her of his presence. Hopefully, her inner voice would quiet.
She laid her head near his calf, imagining the dark hairs stirring with her sighs. It brought a smile that dissolved too fast. She’d nearly taken the gun. Would Ben have awakened in time to stop her? If he hadn’t, would she have used it on Mike?
God no, her mind cried. I won’t hurt you, her thoughts promised him. She’d destroy herself first. Exactly what Desiree wanted.
Alert during the first hour, Mike’s adrenaline plummeted during the second. By the third, he dug his nails into his palms, drawing blood so pain would keep him awake.
Ben wasn’t faring much better. He punched his shoulders and slapped his face to keep his lids opened. Several times, they slipped down with him jerking to attention, causing the back of his head to bang into the wall.
Jasmine didn’t appear to notice. Her eyes stayed on Mike, watching as she’d promised, her lust swelling. He heard her rough sighs, witnessed her predatory stare. Twice, she pushed to her elbows, holding her breath, fixed on advancing toward him. Twice, she hesitated, then sank back down, either fighting her desire for sex or lacking the energy to continue.
He made no comment on her charged state, pretending to focus on the window, the waning night beyond. In a corner of his vision, he could still see her. Ben couldn’t—the footboard prevented it. The air-conditioning clicked on, its whirr disguising the buzz as Mike willed a slender lock of her hair to float upward, enough to separate it from the rest, not enough for her to feel. He followed it with more strands. With his mind, he moved the first tresses to the right, the next to the left, while leaving some in the middle. Gingerly, so she wouldn’t question the motion and reach up, he braided a small part of her hair, refining his skill so he could use it to open the handcuffs and—
“What are you doing?”
Her question broke his concentration. The braid fell. His thoughts caught it a breath away from her other hair and lay it down, unnoticed by her. “Nothing.” His voice didn’t give away his walloping heart.
Her tone accused. “You’re staring at something outside.”
“The trees.”
“You wish you were out there.”
He wished they both were. “Not unless you were with me.”
She searched his face for a lie. He remained motionless, allowing it. Uncertainty and then sorrow cramped her features. She murmured, “That would be nice.”
“It will be.”
Her lower lip trembled. She averted her gaze.
Free of her scrutiny, he moved the figurines on the dresser, spinning the smallest in place. Next, he willed the top of the curtains to billow out and deflate, as if they rode wind that didn’t exist.
He exercised his talent until the air-conditioning clicked off. A short time later, he saw the first threads of sun reaching the trees. Dawn, finally.
Ben must have noticed the rosy shadows on the opposite wall. He sat straighter, elbows on his knees, head in his left hand. A sloppy yawn interrupted his groan. Jasmine drew her legs up, using them and her elbows to push to a sitting position.
Mike stopped himself from saying anything, preferring to observe. She left the mattress and went into the bathroom, closing herself inside.
Ben’s hand dropped. Glock in his right fist, he went to his feet and staggered to the bed, his voice loud enough for Mike to hear. “What happened when she came into the room?”
He kept his eyes on the bathroom door. “She went to you and reached for my gun. She seemed to be in some kind of trance. A dog barked outside. She backed away. She begged me not to let her do it.”
“Do what?”
He turned his face to the boy. “Murder me if I try to leave.”
“Holy shit.” Ben shoved his fingers through his spiky hair. “You don’t think she
’d actually do something like that, do you?”
“I don’t want to wait and find out. You have to get her to Lily’s room and guard her, not me.” He lifted his cuffed hand as far as the shackle allowed. “Like I told her, I’m not going anywhere. If you fall asleep again and she takes my gun, I’m fucking dead. Even if she doesn’t do that, she can always go downstairs and grab a butcher’s knife or a fireplace poker or even Lily’s beloved skillet. Which means I’m still dead unless you guard her.”
“What about the phone? I have to get it today so we can call your friend.”
“Tie her to Lily’s bed before you leave.”
“I could have Lil or Violet watch her while I’m gone or have one of them pick up the phone.”
“No.” He wanted Ben out of the house and her sisters downstairs, not a room away where they could monitor him. “Tie her wrists to the damned bedpost. It’s for her own good. Use the silk belt from her robe. It’s not going to hurt her.”
“What if Lil or Violet say no? What if you’re fucking lying?”
“What purpose would it serve? Is it going to help me get out of here?” He growled, “I don’t think so. If Violet or Lily are too prissy to see Jasmine’s wrists tied to a bed, then tell them they better get ready for court when she goes on trial for my murder, should she be lucky enough to live that long.”
Ben shifted from one foot to the other, looking as though he wanted to be anywhere but here. “All right. As soon as she comes out of the john, I’ll try to talk her into going back to Lil’s room—what was that?”
Mike’s head had already snapped to the heavy thud coming from the bath, followed by something else falling. Ben bolted to the door, swinging it opened. From the bed, Mike saw Jasmine curled up on the bathroom floor, her cologne and perfume bottles scattered around her.
“Check her pulse!” he shouted.
Ben kicked away the plastic bottles and laid the Glock on the toilet seat. Squatting, he put his fingers on her neck. His shoulders sagged. “She’s okay. She must have passed out.”
Her sisters ran into the room. Lily’s head pivoted right, left, noting the furniture. “What fell?”
“Jas!” Violet cried.
“It’s okay.” Ben’s voice lurched. “Stay there.” He helped Jasmine to her feet.
Her hair swung forward. She moaned. “What happened?”
“You fainted. I’ll take you to Lil’s room.”
She pushed his arms away then grabbed his tee in both of her fists. “Ben, I’m scared. I don’t want to hurt Mike!”
“You won’t, I promise. I won’t let you anywhere near him.” With his arm around her waist, he opened the door inside the bath and brought her into the next room.
Lily shouted at Mike, “Do something to help her!”
Crying, Violet pulled her sister back. “Ben’s taking care of it.”
She shook her off and hissed at him. “What about your stupid friend? Is she really going to find Desiree or is that more of your BS?”
He stated the obvious. “I can’t call her without my phone or yours.”
“Yeah, right.” She bared her teeth. “You just want the call to be traced so the cops know where to find you.”
“Lil, stop it.” Violet spoke to him, her voice cracking. “What did Jas mean, she doesn’t want to hurt you?”
Mike’s gaze darted between the two sisters. “When she first came inside, Ben was asleep. She reached for my gun. She said if I tried to leave, she’d stop me.”
Violet moaned. “Oh my God.”
He warned, “If she can’t get her hands on the Glock, she’ll find something else. You can’t allow her to leave that other room.”
Chapter Twelve
Lily held Jasmine’s left arm, Violet her right. Ben wound one of the silk sashes around her left wrist first, securing it to the headboard of the wrought-iron bed. None of them would meet her eyes.
“You have to do this,” she said.
A muffled sob escaped Violet.
“Stop it,” Jasmine snapped. “Ben, make it tighter. I can’t get loose. I’ll hurt myself before I harm Mike.”
“You won’t be doing either.” He knotted the sash twice, huffing as he yanked it, then went around the bed to work on her right wrist. “We’ll call his friend today and she’ll find Desiree.”
Lily growled. “When I see that freaking witch, I am going to beat the living crap out of her.”
“No!” Jasmine hollered at her youngest sister. “Stay away from her or she’ll curse you, too! I don’t want any of you involved in this. It’s between her and me. Do you understand? Tell me you understand!”
“We’ll worry about what to do when we find her.” Finished with her wrist, Ben drew the top sheet over her nudity. Face wet with tears, Violet turned away, her narrow shoulders shaking convulsively.
Lily sat at the foot of the bed, her hand resting on Jasmine’s ankle. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”
“No. I don’t want any of you watching what it does to me.” Her fingers curled into fists. “If you want to help, then do your regular work. Don’t come back until Mike’s called his friend. Now go.”
The three of them exchanged a glance.
“Will I be able to get free?” Jasmine asked Ben.
He shook his head. “The knots are too tight.”
“Then leave. All of you. Right now.”
They left her in Lily’s room, alone with the yearning and her brutal thoughts.
In their haste to tend to Jasmine after she’d fainted, they’d forgotten to fully close the door to her bedroom. As they came down the hall, Mike heard their muted discussion about him. Ben and Lily argued with Violet, saying they couldn’t let him use his cell phone or their landline, convincing her someone might trace the call. If the cops came now, there’d be no chance to help Jasmine.
“I’ll be back with the disposable cell in a few hours.” Ben’s heavy footfalls pounded into a room, then out to the stairway. Seconds later, a downstairs door, probably the front one, banged shut.
Up here, Lily spoke in a subdued tone. “Violet, get a grip. The world isn’t ending. We’re going to fix this.”
“When?” Violet’s voice sounded thick as though she were crying. “Jas is getting worse by the second. I can’t leave her. I’m going back in.”
“No. As long as she can’t get out of my room she’ll be all right.”
“No she won’t. She fainted a few minutes ago.”
“She hasn’t been sleeping. Anyone would pass out from that. Let’s give her a chance to rest. Come on, we both have work to—good God,” she interrupted herself, “what’s the matter now?”
“Today’s the Steinmans’ appointment.” Violet’s voice had raised several notches. “What are we supposed to do about that?”
“Oh shit, I forgot about them.” The floor groaned beneath her or Violet’s pacing. “I’ll call and cancel.”
“It’s too late. They’re coming in from Fort Lauderdale. They’re probably on the road right now. We can’t bring them in the house, Lil.” The footfalls stopped. “Not with what’s been going on.”
“We can have the meeting in the gazebo. They’d probably like that. While they go through your sample books, we’ll serve them lemonade and Mom’s sour cream streusel. There’s enough time for you to make it if you get started now.”
Violet snapped, “You expect me to bake?”
“I expect you to do what Jas wants. She said for us to do our regular work, so let’s freaking do it.”
“Wait. When they get here, take them down the driveway to the backyard. Don’t let them in the house.”
“I wasn’t planning to.” Their light steps raced down the remainder of the hall and stairway.
Mike’s gaze darted from the bedroom door to the bath, his Glock on the toilet seat. Would one of them think to return for it? Would Ben? His watch ticked off the seconds. He made himself wait ten minutes to be certain no one would head this way. Soft rock music came up thr
ough the vents, an old Billy Joel tune. He heard faint thuds. Violet slamming drawers and cabinets in the kitchen? Hopefully. Where was Lily? He listened for another minute, not hearing anyone’s footfalls in the hall.
Holding his breath, he lowered his gaze to his cuff. In his mind, he saw Jasmine if he didn’t get free…her life slipping away, losing her. Fuck no. If he had to chew this off, he’d get rid of it.
He made a final apology to Tommy, knowing the man would understand Jasmine needed help. His concentration narrowed, homing in on the lock, seeing it turning, the teeth lifting, sliding back, the metal separating.
Breathless, he caught the opened cuff on its way to the floor and unfastened the others, tossing them on the mattress. On his feet, he took a step toward his gun and stopped. His heart beat so fast he got dizzy. What in the fuck was he doing? If he walked across the room to the bath, Violet and Lily would be able to hear him from downstairs. Then what? Use his power to push them into a room and secure it so they couldn’t get out? Violet might not scream, but Lily sure as hell would. If the neighbors didn’t hear and alert the police, the Steinmans would when they arrived.
He sank to the bed, still a virtual prisoner. Although he could lift objects and people with his mind, he couldn’t do it with himself, something he’d tried years ago when he’d wanted to sail around like a fly or a bird and failed repeatedly. The only way for him to get out of the room undetected, and to Jasmine’s office, would be to walk as close to the walls as possible. There, the floor’s give would be minimal, not recording his movements.
First, though, he wanted his damned gun.
His eyes swept over its sleek outline, his mind seeing it lift from the toilet seat. Another old hit, this by Elton John, flowed through the vents. A car accelerated down the street. The dog from last night barked.
The Glock hovered above the seat, its barrel pointing at him. He willed it to the left. The muzzle turned and dipped to the floor. A bead of sweat rolled into his eye. Jaw clenched, he blinked wildly, his mind ordering the gun to him.