Lisa stared at him. She was to stay in the tent—he had to be kidding! Already it was stuffy in here, and she had a feeling that as the day wore on it would get positively unbearable. He couldn’t be serious! Anyway, who the hell was Riley Bates? She couldn’t believe he was the one who gave the orders.
“Where’s Sam?” she asked coolly, lifting her chin. Despite the embarrassment the thought of seeing him again brought, he at least had been kind. And he had to have more authority than this little runt. . . .
“Sam’s busy.” Riley’s reply was openly gloating. “He ain’t got no more time for you. Besides, them orders came from him. He ain’t a man to let his judgment be warped by a little slap and tickle.”
Lisa stared at him with dumb shock, her cheeks slowly suffusing with crimson. From his words and tone, it was clear that he knew what had taken place between her and Sam the night before. Good Lord, had the conceited creature bragged to the whole camp about how easy she was? Her body burned from head to toe with embarrassment as she imagined Sam describing her behavior in intimate detail to a snickering circle of men. By the time she got through painting her mental picture, Lisa was more than willing to stay cooped up in the tent. In fact, wild horses couldn’t have dragged her out!
“You understand?” Riley asked with a trace of satisfaction.
Lisa could only nod in reply. As he left the tent she covered her hot face with her hands, wishing that the ground would mercifully open up and swallow her.
The remainder of the two weeks she had planned to spend in Rhodesia passed in a blur of discomfort, inconvenience, and downright embarrassment. Only when the Tuesday of her scheduled departure from the country came and went with no mention of when—or if—she would be allowed to return to civilization did it begin to dawn on Lisa that she was in fact a prisoner. Diplomatically at first, and then more and more furiously as Riley ignored her as thoroughly as though he were stone deaf, Lisa demanded to be let go, or at the very least to be allowed to send a message to her family that she was safe. If her grandfather was aware of what had befallen the Blasses—and she was sure he would be by now, nearly two weeks after the event—he would be beside himself with grief. Because, to her knowledge, he had no way of knowing that she had not shared the Blass family’s grisly fate. . . . The shock might even kill him. Despite his facade of vigor, he was an old man, and Lisa was all he had left in the world. But, for all the notice Riley took of her orders, entreaties, and even occasional attempts at outright bribery, she might as well have saved her breath. Clearly he intended to do absolutely nothing to help her. And he was her only link with authority—which was, in a word, Sam. Finally, seething, Lisa abandoned her efforts to persuade Riley to intercede on her behalf. It was hopeless, she knew.
During that time, humiliation was her constant companion. On the occasions when, under Riley’s supervision, she left the tent, it was clear from the knowing smirks on the faces of the men she passed that her night with Sam was common knowledge. It was also clear that they considered her open to suggestions. She supposed she had Riley’s constant guardianship to thank for the fact that their suggestions weren’t followed up with action.
She saw Sam only at a distance. Just the sight of his tall, broad-shouldered frame swaggering about the camp was enough to send her blood pressure shooting up. She was conscious of an almost overwhelming urge to injure him, and derived immense pleasure from conjuring up pictures of herself slapping his dark face until it stung.
One thing she’d been right about—the tent was hot. She sweltered during the long days, and her temper grew hotter as she did. The clothes that had been provided for her were no help. Her own underthings, laundered daily and made of nylon, were reasonably cool, but the cast-off military uniform she was forced to wear was not. For one thing, it was miles too big, so she had to fold up the sleeves and the pants legs into awkward rolls, and for another the material, designed for durability, was impossibly heavy. Finally she succumbed to temptation and ripped at the sleeves and legs until they tore right across. She was left with a very baggy pair of shorts that hit her at mid-thigh and a sleeveless shirt. The outfit was ragged, and she knew it must look ridiculous, but at least it let what little air survived in the tent reach her skin.
Riley was horrified when he saw what she had done, and expressed his disapproval volubly, refusing to take her outside dressed as she was. He ended his diatribe with a threat to go directly to Sam with the information that she was getting up to her whore’s tricks again. Lisa, flicked on a raw spot, blew up.
“You can tell your precious Sam to go straight to hell,” she spat in a low, shaking voice. “I don’t give a damn what he, or you, or any of the rest of these animals around here, thinks. I totally despise you all!”
With that she burst into tears. Riley looked appalled, staring at her like she had suddenly grown two heads.
“Oh, get out!” Lisa sobbed furiously. After a moment’s hesitation, he did.
The tears left almost as soon as Riley did. Lisa gulped, sniffled, and wiped her eyes. After all, what did she really have to cry about? She was alive, and reasonably safe and well cared for, and she was realistic enough to realize that her situation could have been immeasurably worse. Tension and physical discomfort were her only immediate problems, and they could be remedied. A long walk out in the fresh air would do it, or a warm, tingling shower. Lisa thought longingly of cooling spray washing down over her body, wetting her thoroughly, cleansing her. The only bath she had had for over two weeks had been a quick wash in a bowl, and she felt distinctly grubby. And her hair could use a wash. . . .
On her daily excursions to the lime pit that served as the camp toilet, Lisa had glimpsed, not too far away, a small creek. Quite suddenly she made up her mind that she would have that walk and the bath, too. And if Riley, or Sam, or anyone else didn’t like it, fantastic!
Gathering up her precious sliver of soap and the rough cotton towel, Lisa moved across to the tent flap and cautiously peered out. It was early afternoon, a time when the camp was usually almost deserted. Riley was around somewhere, she knew, but she didn’t see him. This was probably the best chance she’d ever have to sneak away unseen. With luck, no one would ever know she’d flouted Sam’s orders. Anyway, once she’d had her bath, she didn’t much care if they did know!
Lisa ducked outside, blinking in the bright African sunlight, momentarily having to shade her eyes. It was good to feel the sun beating down on her head, to smell the fresh air, to see the beautiful cerulean sky and green-gold landscape so typical of this remote part of the world. Quickly she began to walk toward the creek, not slowing her pace until a bend in the path took her out of sight of the camp. She was surrounded by short, scrubby trees with deep green foliage and a charm uniquely their own. Brightly colored birds fluttered from branch to branch, their raucous cries filling the air. Butterflies with enormous, gaudy wings flitted all about her, and in the tall golden grass on either side of the trail she could hear little scurryings as small creatures went about their daily lives. The possibility of snakes being somewhere nearby caused her a moment’s unease, but then she resolutely dismissed that quibble from her mind. She was going to enjoy her first taste of freedom for what seemed like months, and nothing short of a woman-eating alligator on the banks of the creek was going to send her back!
She passed the rough plank toilet and kept going, averting her nose from the strong smell of lime. There had been times over the past week when she would have given anything she possessed to see this place at times other than the measly one allotted to her, but, perversely, this afternoon her body was not interested. Lisa wondered at the contrariness of her own system, then forgot about it as the path ended at the edge of the creek.
To her eyes it was a beautiful creek, clear and shallow and sparkling in the sunlight. Lisa looked around, satisfied herself that she was alone, and quickly began shedding her clothes. An innate sense of modesty prompted her to leave on her peach-colored, nylon-and-lace bra and pa
nties, which covered her as well as any of the swimsuits she possessed. And she was sensible enough to know that she needed her sneakers to protect her feet from whatever might lurk on the creek’s bottom. Finally, she waded into the tepid water, which in the middle came no higher than her shoulders. Happily she dove beneath the surface, emerging to lather her hair and face and body with soap. It stung as she got it into her eyes, but she was too pleased with herself and the world in general to mind. At last she ducked under the water again to rinse away the soap, and when that was done she paddled joyfully about. She ended up floating on her back, her long hair trailing around her like pale seaweed. In that position she could enjoy an unimpeded view of the sky, and for a while she entertained herself by making pictures in the fleecy white clouds. It was only when a long shadow from a tree on the bank touched her face that she realized how quickly time had passed. Faint fingers of pink were beginning to streak the sky, and she could no longer see the sun. It must be nearly dusk. Lisa stood up, shaking her soaking hair back from her face, realizing with a sinking feeling that she had to get back. If she hadn’t already been missed it would be a miracle, and the thought of a confrontation with Riley, or, a hundred times worse, Sam, was suddenly extremely unappealing. Quickly she waded to shore, twisting her hair into a rope and squeezing the water from it as she went. There was no time to lie on the bank and let the sun leisurely dry her underwear, as she had planned, and anyway the air was cooling rapidly. Lisa shivered as she kicked off her shoes, then unhooked her bra and stepped out of her panties, wringing them out and snatching up the towel to briskly rub herself dry. The marks on her arms were almost completely healed, she registered vaguely as she patted the moisture from them. Her back was, too, despite the fact that she had flatly refused Riley’s reluctantly offered ministrations and insisted on tending her injuries herself. . . . Finally Lisa toweled her hair until it was just barely damp and turned to pick up her underwear. It was then, stooping and reaching, that she saw the two men.
They wore uniforms and they had been watching her. That much was clear at first glance. Lisa colored, snatching up the towel again and holding it in front of her in an effort to hide her body from their avid gazes. The fixed way they were staring at her, the glazed intensity in their eyes, their very silence terrified her. She began to back away slowly. One of the men, thick featured and heavily built, moved after her. He looked vaguely familiar. . . . The other man, younger and slimmer, moved too. They were stalking her.
Lisa’s heart was pounding like a drum in her ears. She backed until she felt her foot touch the edge of the water, still clutching the towel before her like a shield. Desperately she glanced around, realizing that she had no place to run. The shallow creek offered no protection. Her only hope was that Riley had missed her and was even now nearby, looking for her. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she opened her mouth to scream. To her horror, only a strangled squeak emerged from her suddenly dry throat. At the sound, the apish-looking older man smiled. His eyes were very small, a pale, watery blue. His hair was whitish. . . . Lisa stared at him with the same fascination she would have shown a cobra. Then, as he took another step toward her, she turned to run. Instantly they were upon her.
She could have screamed then. As soon as their hands closed on her body, clutching hurtfully at her naked shoulders and waist and arms, she felt the sound welling hysterically in her throat. But it never got a chance to come out. A sweaty palm clapped over her mouth, stifling any outcry. Lisa kicked and clawed and squirmed frantically as she was swung right up off her feet and carried some fifteen feet from the water’s edge, where the tall grass swayed gently in a shaggy, golden carpet. Then she was borne toward the ground, still struggling with a strength born of terror, the salty-resting hand still covering her mouth.
As she felt the grass prickle gently against her bare back, she braced her feet and lunged upward in a desperate bid for freedom.
“What’s-a matter, babe? Ain’t we handsome enough for you?” the white-haired man sneered breathlessly as she was thrust back down with ludicrous ease. Immediately he dropped on top of her, his weight knocking the breath from her lungs. Lisa’s nails went with unerring instinct for his eyes.
“Grab her hands!” he bellowed, and the younger man hurried to comply, laughing as he dragged Lisa’s arms over her head.
“No, no, no!” Her head thrashed frantically from side to side, unable to believe even then that this unthinkable thing, this rape, was really going to happen. Then, with desperate cunning, she forced her body to lie still as his khaki-clad legs forced themselves between hers. Maybe she could take him off guard. . . .
“That’s better.” He grunted approval of her apparent surrender, his hand moving to fumble with his zipper. Lisa’s mouth was suddenly free and she opened it to scream. The sound was silenced by his mouth, fetid and slimy as it closed on hers, his tongue thrusting hotly between her teeth. His hands found her breasts, pinching roughly at the delicate pink nipples. Lisa thought despairingly that with his strangling of her scream she had lost her last chance. Still her body writhed in protest, her bare back and buttocks scraping painfully over the ground. Then, horribly, she felt the touch of his hot, throbbing maleness against her inner thigh.
She bit his tongue. The action was so simple, so obvious, that Lisa couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to her sooner. He screamed as her teeth met through the soft tissue, his hands coming up to close in a death grip around her throat. She didn’t let go. With grim determination she kept her teeth buried in his tongue while his partner yanked at her hair and her victim howled and choked her. Her throat hurt horribly under the cruel grip. Lisa knew that he would soon crush her windpipe if she didn’t release him. But she wasn’t sure she could unlock her teeth even if she wanted to. Besides, she felt curiously detached from what was happening. Her eyes were wide open and glassy as she stared with dimming vision into the pain-contorted face above her. How long had it been since her starved lungs had managed to suck in any air? How long . . .
“Lutz!” The roar penetrated even Lisa’s slipping consciousness.
“Holy shit, it’s Eastman!” the younger man muttered.
Lisa felt the grip on her neck loosen fractionally and managed to roll her eyes in the direction from which the sound had come. It was Sam. . . . Her teeth unclenched of their own volition. The white-haired man rolled to one side, then stumbled to his feet, one hand clapped to his mouth. Lisa saw red rivulets of blood running beneath his hand to drip from his chin. . . . As she gulped in shuddering swallows of air she felt fiercely glad. She hoped that she’d severed his tongue. . . .
Both men were on their feet now, facing Sam, their backs turned to her. Lisa wanted to stand up, too, but to her horror she found she couldn’t move. Her useless limbs were racked with tremors, and she lay on the ground as naked and helpless as a newborn babe.
“Get back to camp.”
The curt order, addressed to her attackers, came from Sam. His face was stony, his eyes hard as agates as he stared the two men down. He looked big, strong, and thoroughly dangerous standing there with his feet braced slightly apart and his arms crossed over his chest, and Lisa was devoutly thankful that his anger was not directed at her.
“She led us on,” the younger man whined.
“Yeah, she stripped herself naked with us watching. What was we supposed to do?” the white-haired man added sullenly.
“I said get back to camp!” This time Sam’s voice cracked like a bullwhip.
Lisa opened her mouth to deny what had been said. Not a sound would come out. She could only watch speechlessly as the two men slunk off toward camp, the older one still holding his mouth with one hand and fumbling with his zipper with the other.
Sam strolled toward her until he stood directly over her, his big body completely blocking out her view of the sky. He looked down at her distastefully, as if she were a piece of smelly garbage that he had found on his doorstep. Lisa realized with rising fury that he believed what thos
e thugs had said. She could read nothing but contempt in Sam’s blue eyes as they traveled slowly down her body, naked and bruised and sprawled limply in the grass.
“Get up” The command was harsh. Lisa blinked. She couldn’t have moved if she had wanted to. Her muscles seemed to be paralyzed.
“Get up!” There was no doubt that he was furiously angry. It showed in the bite of his voice, the sapphire blaze of his eyes. Lisa licked her dry lips, closing her eyes.
The next thing she was aware of were his hands moving swiftly over her body. Her eyes flew open and she saw Sam kneeling beside her, rage still glittering in his eyes. He ran his fingers carefully along her narrow rib cage, then moved on to explore the smooth length of her arms and legs. Lisa shuddered away from his touch, moaning and wrapping her arms around her body in an age-old gesture of feminine protectiveness. Sam stopped what he was doing to stare down at her, his hands dropping to his sides.
“Are you hurt?” he asked sharply. Lisa’s eyes were wild as she stared back at him; she could no longer distinguish friend from enemy.
“I said, are you hurt?” His voice was harsh. Lisa gulped in air, managing to shake her head in the negative. Her lips were trembling uncontrollably; words were beyond her now.
“Are you sure?” A muscle jumped convulsively at the corner of his mouth. His lips were clamped so tightly together that white lines radiated from their edges to the sides of his nose. He was obviously controlling himself with great effort. Lisa, shivering, was very much aware that some of that explosive temper was directed at her.
“I’m—sure.” She forced out the words through chattering teeth. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep, block out the whole terrifying ordeal.
To Love a Man Page 4