Body Contact

by Rebecca York

  He cut her off with a fierce look, then struggled to contain his roiling emotions.

  “We have to talk,” he mouthed, knowing now more than ever that they couldn’t risk a frank conversation in the bedroom. Which was good, because he needed a few minutes with his own thoughts.

  “Do you think you can stand up?” he said aloud. “I want to find out how you are on your feet. And I’m sure a shower would feel good about now.”

  “Yes. Okay,” she agreed.

  He moved aside, and she slid to the edge of the bed. When she stood, he could see her legs weren’t quite steady.

  “I’m fine,” she muttered when she caught his look of concern.

  Still he slung his arm around her, holding her close as they made their slow way to the bathroom.

  She leaned against the wall while he opened the glass door and turned on the shower. Now that the water was running, they could start talking. But he postponed the inevitable while he adjusted the temperature.

  Finally, there was nothing left to do besides step under the pounding spray. When he held out his hand to her, she followed him inside.

  He breathed out a small sigh as she turned to face him and laid her head against his shoulder. So she wasn’t condemning him without hearing what he had to say. That was good. For a long moment he stood there sliding his hands up and down her water-slick arms and across her back.

  Neither of them spoke, and he knew he was the one who had to break the silence.

  “You know my partner was killed when we were on an assignment in Albania? How do you know?”

  Apparently she’d decided that the time for ducking inconvenient questions was over. “One of my security men had heard about it. He warned me not to come here with you.”

  “But you did it anyway.”

  “Yes.” She swallowed. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  He did, in a flat, dead voice. “Someone had ratted on us. Men in town were looking for us. But we had a place to hide out, and I thought we’d be safer under cover. Lisa wanted to make a run for it—and we had to stick together. They have these one-lane roads running along the tops of the mountains. We came around a curve, and there was a big car, smack in front of us. It sped up as it plowed into us. I have to assume that the bad guys knew we were trying to make a getaway, and sent someone to stop us. Our car went into a ravine. Somehow I got out. Either I pulled the door handle, or the door flew open on its own. Lisa wasn’t so lucky.”

  “That doesn’t sound like your fault.”

  “I should have kept her calm, made her wait it out!”

  “Could you have?”

  “I don’t know! I’ve asked myself that question a million times.”

  Her hands tightened on his arms, then caressed his back in a gesture that might have been erotic. Now it was comforting.

  “I think you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about,” she murmured.

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Jack, I know what kind of man you are. If I didn’t know before today, I’d know now.”

  He swore under his breath. “I’m no saint.”

  “But you’re a good man. You know what the hell you’re doing. You’re calm in the face of a crisis. And you go out of your way to do your job.”

  He focused on the last part. Was that what she thought? That he’d been doing a job for the past few hours? He wanted to tell her it had been a hell of a lot more than a job, but thought better of it. Maybe after what had just happened to her, she needed to believe there was nothing personal between them. And if that was what it took to get her off Orchid Island safely, then that was the way he was going to play it.

  “How are you feeling now?” he asked.

  She stepped away from him, flexed her legs and arms. “Better. Not a hundred percent. But I’m coming back.”

  He watched her calmly evaluating her physical and mental condition. “Do you think you can be ready to leave tonight? Because I don’t think that staying around much longer is a good idea.”

  “I agree. And if I have to be ready tonight, I will be,” she answered, her voice all business.

  Lord, she’d just been down for the count, but she was coming out of her corner swinging.

  Then her next words made him blink. “I’m not going to let you down, like Lisa did.”

  “She didn’t—”

  “Okay. I guess I shouldn’t have said it. We’re not going to focus on what happened back then. We’re going to concentrate on getting out of here.”

  The tone of her voice told him that she was definitely on the mend.

  “Right,” he muttered.

  “Then tell me what you have planned.”

  Jack leaned close, brought his mouth next to her ear, and told her what he’d been thinking about while she was sleeping.

  OLIVER HAD BEEN PRIMED to enjoy Maddy Griffin’s out-of-control arousal. After Jack spirited her away, he’d called in two of his favorite young women to help Calista satisfy him. Their attentions had taken away the physical discomfort, but his mood hadn’t improved.

  Jack Craig had gotten the better of him. He could have had the man executed on the spot, of course. But he was still trying to figure out who the bastard was. And he wanted the satisfaction of confronting him about his background—before the execution.

  He was getting ready to step into the hot tub off his private rooms when the red phone rang in his bedroom. The line that hooked directly into his security center.

  Striding naked across the thick carpeting, he snatched up the receiver, thinking that it had better be important.

  “What is it?” he snapped.

  “Your operative from Winston Industries has just arrived by private plane. We’re holding him here.”

  “What? What the hell is going on? He’s supposed to be keeping tabs on things inside their operation.”

  “Yes. But he says that he’s been under observation. He used an excuse to get away. And he says that it’s urgent that he talk to you.”

  “All right. Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll meet him down there.”

  He replaced the receiver in its cradle, thinking that his Winston operative was no good to him here. And if he didn’t have a good story to tell, he might be the one who was executed tonight.

  “LOCK THE DOOR behind me. And don’t let anyone else in,” Jack said as he reached for the knob.

  He saw Maddy’s face pale and knew that despite her calm exterior, she didn’t much like the idea of being left alone now. But they’d both agreed during their strategy session in the shower that having her lie low for as long as she could was their best alternative. Maddy had told him Calista had bragged about taking the drug. Probably she’d followed a session like Maddy’s with a nice long rest. Which made Maddy’s staying in the room entirely in character.

  As he stepped into the hall, he found one of the household staff stationed about twenty feet away.

  Like the gardeners, he thought. Undoubtedly part of the security force but wearing a different uniform.

  “I was told to inform Mr. Reynard when you came out,” the man said in response to Jack’s inquiring look.

  “Well, Ms. Griffin still isn’t feeling very well,” he answered. “I’m just getting some of her things from our villa. Some fresh clothing. Her makeup case. You know how women are. They always want to look their best. So you can tell Mr. Reynard we won’t be available for socializing any time soon.” He paused for a moment. “But I would like a cart of food brought up. Something light. Sandwiches and fruit. And some coffee. Just leave it outside the door, and I’ll bring it in when I come back.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Jack walked briskly back toward Agapanthus Villa, as though his only mission was to make his sweetie feel more comfortable.

  Once inside, he slowed his pace, giving the impression that he was thinking about the items that Maddy had presumably requested. He found her hairbrush on the counter in the bathroom and stuck it in the makeup case. He got out underwea
r and pretended to consider what he thought would look good on her. He found a dark-colored knit outfit and put it in a small suitcase—along with a change of clothing for himself, which also, surprise, turned out to be black.

  But he left almost everything else in place, as though they’d be back to the villa as soon as Maddy felt up to it.

  As he retraced his steps, he stopped briefly and looked down the path that he knew led to the workers’ quarters—where Juanita lived. He wanted to contact her now, but he decided that it would be a bad idea. So he let it go for the time being.

  MADDY WAS PACING back and forth across the room, from the Oriental rug to the hardwood floor and back again. Then a knock on the door made her go stock-still. She lowered the eight-inch-long metal statue she held in her hand so it was hidden beside her leg. Then she walked to the door and called out, “Who is it?”

  “Jack.”

  “Thank God,” she breathed as she unsnapped the lock.

  As Jack walked into the room, she carefully placed the statue on a table. He didn’t comment, only set down the makeup case and small suitcase he was carrying before taking her into his arms.

  She didn’t want to show any weakness now, but it was impossible not to cling to him for several moments. His hands ran up and down her back, and he turned his head, skimming his lips over her cheek and the tender line of her hair.

  “We’ll be out of this hellhole in a couple of hours,” he said.

  She hoped it was true. She knew they were taking risks. But not getting out now was even more of a risk.

  All she said was “I’ll pull my weight.”

  “I know you will,” he answered, and she took some comfort in the confident tone.

  He opened the door again and wheeled in a cart with food. She managed to get down half a sandwich, but the bowl of fruit was beyond her. Not when Calista had served fruit to her along with that drugged iced tea.

  “Probably we should relax for a while,” Jack said, after he’d wolfed down a couple of sandwiches.

  She nodded, thinking that he was making the suggestion because she was the one who needed rest, but she didn’t voice the observation. He had enough to worry about without her voicing her insecurities.

  Dutifully, she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. She felt the mattress shift, felt Jack lie down beside her. Reaching out his hand, he covered hers. They lay like that for a long time. Maybe she even drifted off to sleep. Lord knows, she needed it.

  Some time later, her eyes snapped open. Jack had dismantled one of the Venetian blinds and was laying out the cord on the end of the bed.

  She glanced at her watch. It was one in the morning. The time when Reynard would be least expecting trouble. No. She canceled that optimistic assessment. Reynard was probably attuned for trouble at any time. But the small hours of the morning offered the most chance of a successful escape.

  After finishing with the cord, Jack picked up the makeup kit and emptied out the contents. Stan Winston’s diamonds were inside, and he stuffed them into his pocket. Then he began tearing out the flowered fabric lining of the case. First he removed the packing material, which was actually a long rope, made of a strong but lightweight synthetic. Then he removed a sheathed knife which he handed to Maddy. When he uncovered the transmitter, he gave her a satisfied grin. A cocky grin.

  The process of sending a message was automatic. The transmitter was simply a communications device designed to send a spurt—a quick burst of information—on a specific frequency.

  Out in the ocean, a small cabin cruiser was waiting to pick them up. The message would alert the agents on the boat to proceed to a small cove on the west side of the island, a pickup point that they’d agreed on before leaving New York.

  If there had been a change in plans, it would have been possible for Jack to reset the device and code in new information. But that wasn’t necessary. The cove was within a reasonable distance of the Dark Tower. All they had to do was get Dawn out of there, and get to their taxi service.

  “Are we ready?” Jack asked.

  “Yes.”

  He pressed the button, sending the signal. Setting the final act of this play into motion.

  The rescue team would arrive at the cove in two hours. If Jack, Maddy and Dawn weren’t there, it was too risky for the team to wait around. The next pickup time would be twenty-four hours later.

  When they’d first worked out the strategy, it had made perfect sense. Now she realized how many things could go wrong before the rendezvous. They had to avoid the guards, rescue Dawn, and get her to the cove. That was just from their end.

  With Reynard’s tight security, they also had to worry about one of his patrols intercepting the rescue team.

  She tried not to focus on the negatives as she stood up and started pulling on the clothing Jack had brought. Before putting on the pants, she strapped the sheathed knife to her right ankle.

  Two hours, she mused. Not a long time.

  Jack pulled off his shirt, then wound the rope from the makeup case around his waist before changing his own clothing.

  Then they both efficiently cleaned up the room, stowing everything they’d dumped on the bed into a pillowcase, which they set beside the door.

  “Ready?” Jack asked.

  “Yes.”

  As they’d arranged, Maddy lay down on the rug, sprawled out her arms and closed her eyes.

  Jack opened the door and stepped into the hall.

  “Come here quick. Something’s happened to Ms. Griffin,” he called out frantically to the guard he’d told her was watching the exit.

  Through slitted eyes, she watched the man run into the room, then stop inside when he saw her on the floor.

  “She fainted,” Jack told him, his voice filled with alarm. “I can’t wake her up. I know it’s the damn drug.”

  When the man bent over her, Jack hit him with the statue that she’d been carrying earlier.

  She rolled away, then reached for the Venetian blind rope, which she’d shoved under the edge of the bedspread. Within minutes the guard was tied and gagged with a towel.

  Jack gave a satisfied grunt as he found a handgun strapped to the man’s leg. He stuffed it in his belt and kept searching. After removing anything that could be of use, including a portable phone, he dumped the man on the other side of the bed.

  She waited while he snatched up the pillowcase full of evidence, then followed him out of the room and down the hall. They encountered no other guards and exited the building, walking at a normal pace down the trail. Once they were out of sight of the building, they stepped off the path and moved through the underbrush.

  Jack paused to toss the pillowcase into a clump of thorn bushes, then turned toward her. She was breathing harder than she might have liked.

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she assured him, then let him lead the way through the foliage.

  Jack paused to let her rest several times, and she didn’t waste her breath objecting. They were standing under a clump of schefflera trees when she heard a sound that made her blood run cold. It was the howl of a wild animal. A big cat, as best she could tell.

  Unconsciously, she moved closer to Jack and whispered, “Is that Reynard’s panther, do you think?”

  He shrugged.

  “Would he let it loose?”

  “I hope not. Not tonight of all nights.”

  She shivered, glad that they at least had a gun.

  After a few moments, they moved off again. By the time they reached the wall around the tower, she had a stitch in her side, but she did her best to ignore it as they stood in the shadow of the branches, watching the sentry at the entrance to the courtyard.

  Jack had told her in the shower about how the man had responded to Juanita. She hoped that she would get the same favorable reception as they waited for the patrol to pass.

  There was no way of knowing when they’d arrived in the cycle. It took twelve minutes for two guards to come strolling down t
he path. Jack had said they’d stopped to pass the time of day with the man at the entrance. Tonight they only nodded and walked rapidly past.

  Perhaps they’d been given a lecture on discipline, she thought. Or maybe two other men were on duty. Men who weren’t as friendly with the sentry.

  She stood in the shadows, breathing in and out, making sure she was in good enough shape to play the role she’d been assigned.

  Then she walked forward, waving and calling out softly to the guard so that he wouldn’t shoot her before she had a chance to do her thing.

  “Stop where you are,” he ordered when she’d gotten within thirty feet of him.

  At least his machine gun stayed on his shoulder, she noted as she came toward him at an angle, turning his attention to his right. “Please, I want to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “Juanita sent me with a message for you.”

  “What do you know about Juanita?”

  She moved her hips sensually, seductively. “I know she’s your friend. She sent me to warn you. There’s going to be trouble tonight.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  She kept the man’s focus on her swaying body so that Jack could circle around behind him. As Jack closed in on him, she played with the neckline of her shirt, rubbing her hand just inside the collar and downward toward her breasts, watching with satisfaction as his gaze followed the movement. He looked like his whole field of vision had contracted to that view of her shirtfront.

  A smile flickered on her lips as she caught and held his gaze—until Jack brought the butt of the gun down on the back of his head.

  Together, they pulled him inside the wall, where he was out of sight, and relieved him of his machine gun, also his clothing. Jack quickly changed into the military uniform, which was a bit too short. But they couldn’t do anything about that. Working quickly, Maddy gagged the man with Jack’s shirt and tied his hands and feet.

  When they were finished, Jack pulled the cap down low over his face and stood at the guardpost with the gun slung over his shoulder while Maddy hurried across the courtyard and into the building.