by Wendy Rosnau
"Blu? Your arm … it's…" Unable to stay away, Kristen set down the frying pan and trailed after him. In the doorway, she watched as he pulled a pair of clean jeans from a drawer and disappeared into the head. Uncertain what to do, she simply stayed where she was, wringing her hands and chewing on her lip. She heard the shower start up, and when he came back to the bedroom minutes later, she was still standing in the same spot, wondering and waiting, worried and nervous.
He'd pulled on the clean jeans, but that was it. He'd even neglected to finish buttoning them. In his hand, he carried a large first-aid kit.
The cut on his arm was just above the elbow and wrapped around his arm a good two inches. There was a mark on his neck she hadn't seen when he'd first come down the stairs. From the length and placement it looked as if someone had grabbed his throat and squeezed. It was red and discolored, slightly swollen.
Kristen finally found her legs and came forward. "Here," she took the first-aid kit from him and set it on the nightstand, "let me help you."
"I can do it."
"I'm sure you can, but you don't need to." When she turned, he'd already taken a seat on the bed. "Are you ready to tell me what happened?"
"It's obvious, isn't it? I've been fighting. Someone says or does something I don't like, I take them down. Remember Sam? I lied when I said I didn't enjoy hitting him. I loved every minute of it."
He wasn't making any sense. Kristen shook her head. "Of course you don't love hurting people. I noticed you're limping more than usual. Do you have other injuries?"
"Lester tried to—" He stopped, glared at her.
"Did tonight have something to do with me?"
"Not everything I do these days has to do with you."
His voice was hard, filled with hostility, hostility toward her. Why? "I'm sorry," Kristen said softly. "I didn't mean—"
"I had a life before you showed up in Poke Alley four days ago and pulled that gun on me. There's more to me than you think. Don't be so naive. If I tell you I like hitting people, believe it. And get some backbone. Nobody likes a mouse."
Kristen tried to keep her chin from quivering. She didn't know why Blu was saying such hurtful things, but she had no desire to ask. He was in pain, maybe…
"Are you going to toss a bandage on this or watch me bleed all over the bed?"
Kristen turned to the first-aid kit, opened it, and promptly froze; every bandage size and shape ever invented was inside. Why would he have such an extensive first-aid kit? He just said he liked fighting. Was he telling the truth?
When she didn't move, he glanced at her, then at the first-aid kit. "Haven't you seen bandages before?" He flipped through the sizes, pulled out one that would service the wound on his arm and tore it open.
Sick of his rude and uncalled-for hostility, Kristen snatched the bandage from him and peeled back the protective plastic. As he stuck out his arm, she slapped it on with enough force to make him holler.
"Ouch! Hell, what are you trying to do?"
"I'm practicing getting some backbone," she snapped. "And for an encore I'm out of here."
She spun around to leave, but he reached out and snatched her back. "You can't leave! Don't be a little idiot. You need me to—"
Kristen jerked away from him. "Let's get something straight. I don't need you for anything. I managed to get away from Salva on my own, and I certainly don't need another man in my life telling me I'm naive, or how weak I am. When I leave here, I'll—"
He was immediately in her face. "You're not leaving, dammit! Not until I say it's safe."
Eyes narrowed, Kristen dodged the bed to stay on her feet as he stalked her. "Why do you care? You have another life, remember?"
He didn't say anything to that, just stopped and stepped aside. "Okay, then go, dammit!"
Chin raised, Kristen hesitated only a second before she started for the door. Two steps is as far as she got before he reached out and lifted her off her feet and dropped her onto the bed.
"God, you're naive. Did you really think I would let you walk out of here? You're a sitting duck for this creep."
"A naive duck with no backbone," Kristen snarled.
Suddenly he was smiling. It was a real smile that seemed to surprise him as much as it did Kristen. Her pride still stinging, she sniffed. "So you really do have teeth. I was beginning to wonder."
Amusement filled his eyes. "She's got fangs and claws. Now if I can just teach her how to use them."
Kristen stared up at him, angry, yet unable to stop admiring his smile. Finally she said, "You have another cut on your arm. It needs a bandage, too."
"Are you offering?"
Yes, she was, but she really didn't know why; after all, he had been downright nasty. She stood and shoved him down where she'd been sitting. Once again she glanced at his arm. The cut was on the same arm she'd already bandaged, only not as deep and higher up, slashed lengthwise on his thick, bulging bicep.
Kristen rummaged through the various bandage sizes until she found the one that would fit the best. When she turned, she caught Blu rubbing his thigh. His eyes were closed, and as he worked the muscle, his face visibly expressed his pain. This time when she applied the bandage, she gently laid the strip over the cut. "I'm sorry for being so rough before."
"I goaded you."
"Yes, you did."
He opened his eyes. "Then it's my turn to say I'm sorry."
He closed his eyes again, then leaned back and flattened out on the bed, again rubbing his thigh.
"What can I do?" Kristen eased onto the bed. "Your leg… You never said what happened."
"No, I didn't."
"And?"
"It's an old wound."
"It can't be too old if it pains you so much."
"Some wounds never heal," he answered, his eyes still closed.
And some just need the right touch, Kristen thought, reminded of how easy it had been for Blu to wipe away her old pain and fear with a single kiss. She reached out and, brushing his hand away, slid her fingers over his thigh. Slowly, gently, she began to knead the muscle the way she had watched him do.
"God, that feels good."
The anger was gone from his voice, and the old Blu, the one she felt safe with, returned. Kristen moved closer, continued to massage his thigh, her fingers enjoying the feel of him, as well as her body.
"Blu?"
"Hmm…"
"Remember last night when you kissed me at Spirit World?"
"I remember."
"You kissed me because you thought I was going to scream?"
"That's right."
Kristen's hand stilled on his thigh. "And that was the only reason?"
She watched him open his eyes and suddenly they were locked in an intense silent stare. When he said nothing, Kristen slowly sat up. Then stood.
"Take it easy now." He sat up, shoved his black hair away from his face. "It was just a way to keep you quiet. You've got nothing to worry about."
A way to keep you quiet. No backbone. Naive. Weakling. It registered, then, what he was really saying. Of course she didn't have anything to worry about. No man was interested in used merchandise.
Kristen took a step back. He had a right to feel disgusted by what she had allowed Salva to do to her, that was true enough. She was disgusted herself. Still, the lump in her throat was cutting off her air and making her eyes sting. Oh, God, she didn't want to cry. It would make her look twice as naive. Twice the weakling. And she had actually thought he had enjoyed kissing her.
Kristen blinked fiercely and won the battle. But the Blu Devil was a man who was used to reading between the lines. "What is it? What's wrong? You have no reason to be afraid."
"Nothing's wrong. And I'm not afraid. I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
Kristen sniffed. "Thanks a lot. You're just full of wonderful words to describe me tonight. Disgusting. Naive. Now I'm ugly. That's just what every girl wants to—"
"What the hell are you talking about
?" He was really studying her now, his eyes searching. "Are you going to cry?"
"Over your opinion of me. Ha!" Kristen wanted to leave with dignity, but instead she bolted out of the room—she'd been such an idiot.
She was up the stairs and almost across the boat deck before she was wrenched off her feet and fused to Blu's hard body.
"Let go!" Kristen fought as she had never fought before. "I said, don't touch me you … you oversize … tree." She kicked out, swung her fists, forgetting all about his injuries. He grunted in pain, but his arms still banded around her. She slapped his cheek, then bit his shoulder.
He swore when she tried to lift her knee into his groin.
While she still pummeled him, he turned and carried her back down the stairs. She was still screaming, still abusing him as he passed through the galley and made it down the hall to the bedroom. He dumped her on the bed, backtracked and shut the door, then leaned against it.
Kristen scrambled off the bed, her pride wounded, her nostrils flaring. "I want out of here!"
"Not until I've figured out what the hell just happened."
His cheek was red where she'd slapped him, and she'd left a faint imprint of her teeth on his left shoulder. Kristen felt ashamed. She'd been crazy to think Blu could be interested in her. After all, she was a woman with no memory and a bruised body that clearly defined her as another man's plaything.
"Listen, I already told you you can trust me. After what Maland did to you I understand your fear. I agree that kissing you at Lema's wasn't the smartest idea. We let … I let it go too far. When I touched you like I did… Well, I know I had no right to do that." He held up a hand, as if he were a Boy Scout swearing an oath. "Don't worry, I don't intend to touch you like that again. I don't enjoy…"
Kristen refused to cry. "I think the word you're looking for is 'whore.' I know what letting a man climb all over me makes me. What men think about women like that."
"What? Hell, that's not what I'm thinking. Where did that come from?" He started toward her. "You've got it all wrong."
"Don't." Kristen shook her head, took another step backward. "Don't come near me. I get the picture."
"No, I don't think you do."
He took two more steps. This time it was Kristen's turn to hold up her hand. "Don't. Don't even think about touching me."
"Oh, I'm going to touch you. That's the one thing you can be sure of, fille."
"No!"
"I was keeping my distance for your sake, trying to ease your mind. I didn't want you to think I was helping you for the wrong reason. But what you're thinking now is far worse."
"You said you kissed me to shut me up."
"Okay, I lied." He shrugged. "I gave you the excuse I thought you needed to hear to feel safe."
"I told you I wasn't afraid of you," Kristen argued.
"Meaning what? Exactly what do you want from me?"
Kristen didn't feel confident enough to admit that his kiss had rocked her world. That she had wanted him to kiss her again, to hold her. To do more than just hold her. She fell back on safe words. "I know what I am, and you do, too. A man doesn't want another man's—"
"Don't tell me what I want. It's been hell keeping my hands off you. I've been living with tight jeans for days."
His admission shocked her, then sent her gaze to his crotch. It was true, his jeans were taut in all the right places. A distinct bulge aligned his zipper.
He started toward her again. Kristen backed up until she had put herself in the corner. "Blu…"
"I like my name coming out of that sweet little mouth of yours. I like the way you run your tongue over your bottom lip afterward." He took two more steps and rocked forward, sniffed. "I like how you smell, too. Like sweet grass and lemon."
Kristen couldn't move, couldn't help wondering what he would do next. She wasn't fool enough to believe that a night spent in Blu's arms would change everything, but she knew for certain that if there was a man on this earth who could cleanse her body and her soul it was Blu duFray.
He reached out and tangled a finger around a long strand of her hair. There was a deep sigh, a rush of air. Kristen was holding her breath so she knew the sigh was his. His eyes roamed her face with a galvanized stare that made her shiver. Again she knew he was trying to read her. Well, she was trying to read him, too. And that look, coupled with his body language was making things very clear—the Blu Devil was going to do more than kiss her before the night was over.
So there was no mistake what he read in her eyes, Kristen rested her hands on Blu's bare chest, then, as she parted her lips, she slid her hands upward and wrapped her arms around his neck.
* * *
Salvador Maland found his missing sailboat in the coastal village of Punta Gorda. The last stop before the Guatemalan border, the primitive, edge-of-the-world outpost was the last place he had expected to find his expensive sailboat.
He'd spent days searching for Kristen and with each one that passed, his temper slipped a notch. Daily he barked out orders to his men, and at night he paced the deck of his sixty-foot luxury yacht with a military stride that warned his crew his mind was in a very dark place.
Dressed in a black silk jacket and pants, his gold jewelry twinkling in the sunlight, Salva now faced the fisherman whose dock he'd found his missing sailboat tied to. "Your name, old man?"
"Carlos Sancho," answered the stocky fisherman.
"How did you get my boat?" Salva demanded. "And how long have you had it?"
"Your boat?" The man's eyes widened and, after nervously sizing up Salva, his gaze traveled to the six bald-headed men who flanked him. "Dis boat was given to me, señor. I git it as a geeft two days ago."
"From who?"
Carlos started to sweat and Salva smiled for the first time in days. It was arousing as hell to witness someone else's fear. "I said, who gave you my boat, old man?"
"I don't know his name, señor."
Two of Salva's men broke away from the line and advanced on the fisherman. The old man's fear took flight and he backed up into the clear water of the Caribbean. "I—I speak the truth, amigos. An American jus' come and say, 'Do you want a geeft?' The boat es very nice geeft. I say, 'Sí, thank you,' and he give me the boat."
"What did he look like, the American?"
"Yellow hair, nice shirt. Gold watch."
"Was he alone?"
"Sí."
"You're sure there was no one with him?"
"No one."
"Then what happened?"
"He hired Raphael to fly him north."
Salva sent two of his men to locate Raphael, then motioned to the two standing beside Carlos to take the fisherman aboard his yacht. If the man had anything else he was purposely leaving out, they would know it within the hour. If he didn't… Well, either way, Salva always tied up loose ends.
Back on his yacht, standing at the railing, Salva gave instructions that the stolen sailboat was to be sailed back to his island. A moment later, his cell phone rang. "Yes, Mother?"
"Darling, we've completed the search as you requested. Every room in the house has been taken apart and put back together."
"And did you find anything out of place or missing?"
There was a long pause, then Miandera said, "A gun from your collection in your private office is missing. A small .22, and…"
"Get on with it, Mother! I don't need the dramatics!" Salva was having trouble breathing.
"Amanda's baby album, darling. It's gone, as well."
Salva nearly choked. He leaned into the railing and gripped the iron to keep his balance. Finally, when he was able to speak, he said, "Then you were right, Mother. Kristen plotted her escape and willfully left me."
"Yes, darling." Miandera sighed, and Salva knew his mother was smiling. "I'm sorry, darling. I can't think of anything worse she could do to you than this."
Salva couldn't, either. But then he had no idea that at that very moment his addiction—the woman who had become his entire reason f
or living—was only seconds away from giving her body to his enemy.
* * *
Chapter 10
« ^ »
They'd been kissing for a long five minutes. Blu was trying to go slow and keep it easy. Slow and easy was what Angel needed. But he was on fire and he wasn't so sure that he could continue to hold back.
He leaned in and kissed her once more. He hadn't been with a woman in a while, never with someone like Angel. He steered clear of the young ones, and always the innocent—the dirt on his hands had always made him feel undeserving of something nice. Something clean and good.
And Angel was all that. She may not be a virgin, but she was an innocent just the same. An innocent victim who had gotten caught in someone else's madness.
Blu inched closer, allowed his bare chest to brush her breasts. She arched up slightly, her nipples already hard beneath the sarong. He kissed her again, sucked on her lower lip. He could tell by the way she kissed him back that she had never been where he wanted to take her. Where they were headed.
She was trapped against the wall, but there was no fear in her eyes. Still, he pulled her into the middle of the room and reversed their positions. Sure that Maland's violence still haunted her, he was determined to wipe that horror from her mind.
"What are you doing?" she whispered against his mouth.
"It's not too late to shut me down, Angel. It's never too late. Just say the word and—"
She slid her hands up his bare chest, then reversed the motion and sent them downward. When her tiny fingers curled into the waistband of his jeans, Blu felt his groin swell and pulse. "You can stop now?" She dragged her eyes from his aroused condition to look up at him.
"If I have to," Blu promised.
She smiled up at him. "And that's why I'm not afraid." She leaned in and kissed his chest, brushed her lips over his nipples. Her fingers found his zipper and slid it downward.
Blu had foregone shorts after he'd showered. Naked inside his jeans, his body reacted to being freed, and he groaned as open air touched him. A second later it was her hand that was touching him. He jerked hard, then groaned out loud as his intentions to go slow were suddenly on shifting sand. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, trying to formulate some kind of new plan to keep from losing control and knocking her to his bed and driving into her hard and fast.