Assuming, of course, that she survived this ordeal.
She rolled over onto her side to face him. “My mom died of leukemia when I was ten.”
“I’m sorry, that must’ve been rough. That’s her in the portrait in your hall?” At her nod, he added, “She was very beautiful. It’s obvious where you get your looks. And your father?”
“Dad had always been a functioning alcoholic but, after mom got sick, he stayed drunk twenty-four-seven, so I was the one who took care of her. She slowly wasted away until she was just a shriveled up shadow of her former self. Then, after she was gone, Dad decided to drink himself to death. He was never a mean drunk but by then he was too deep in the bottle to be much of a father. There were nights when he didn’t come home, nights when I went to bed hungry. I stopped going to school and missed nearly a whole year, but he never even noticed. Several days after my eleventh birthday — which, of course, he forgot — he was coming home from a bar and crashed his car into a bridge abutment. The moment I opened the front door and saw the uniformed policemen standing there, I knew I was an orphan.”
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured. Their handcuffed hands rested side-by-side on the mattress. He shifted his arm slightly to take her hand into his own and the gesture seemed more intimate than another man’s kiss. Her heartbeat accelerated, but she didn’t pull away. “No brothers or sisters?”
“No.”
The candles filled the room with a soft, flickering light. “After his death, where’d you go?”
“A group home.”
“No relatives to take you in?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “None who were willing. The home wasn’t so bad. They took care of me, fed me, and made sure I got my high school diploma. The worst part was being crowded into a dormitory with nine other girls.”
After having lived for those years with no privacy, the solitude of living alone was a panacea, although — despite the fact that she wasn’t one of those women whose self-worth was dependent upon being with a man — she sometimes longed for the comfort and companionship of someone with whom to share her life.
“That explains why you’re so strong,” he remarked.
“Me? Hardly.”
“You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. Certainly the strongest woman.”
“You’re wrong about that. I’m a coward.”
He cocked a dubious eyebrow. “I’ve seen no evidence of cowardice.”
“It’s there, nonetheless.”
“Well, for a coward, you’re dealing with this whole situation incredibly well.”
“You’re joking, right? I’m absolutely terrified.”
“Of me?”
“No. At least, not anymore.
“What makes you think you’re a coward?”
“Losing both parents at such a young age impressed upon me an overwhelming awareness of life’s precariousness. I instinctively knew that I’d die young as well, and began suffering paralyzing panic attacks. It was only after I took up yoga that I learned to control them. Plus, I’m careful to avoid any and all risky situations. Until three days ago, I hadn’t been on an expressway since Dad died.” At his look of open disbelief, she added, “It’s true.”
He seemed to consider the matter for a moment. “I did wonder why you didn’t take the expressway the day you had the flat tire.”
“You were there, watching me? And you didn’t even come to my assistance?”
He at least had the grace to look embarrassed. “I truly wanted to but if I had, you might’ve spotted me again later and realized I was tailing you.”
Her temper immediately flared. Not over the fact that he hadn’t volunteered to change the tire for her, but at this further evidence of his invasion of her privacy. When she tried to yank her hand from his grasp, he refused to release it. However, since she was trying to play on his sympathies, now was not the time to get into a heated argument. Squelching her anger, she continued. “I’ve never flown in an plane, ridden on a motorcycle, gone on an amusement park ride, or even driven above the speed limit. I’d never even dared to touch a firearm until Sparrow started invading my privacy.”
“And look at you now, sleeping with a nine-millimeter under your pillow.”
“That was due to cowardice, not bravery. When Sparrow escaped justice, I was terrified he’d return to finish what he’d started. My fear of him outweighed my fear of guns.”
The mere mention of Sparrow lips clamped his lips in a straight line. When she placidly gazed back at him, the square jaw beneath the ski mask abruptly unclenched. “The worst aspect of fear lies in the anticipation, and bravery is simply being the only one who knows you’re afraid. There’s no shame in being afraid. What matters is how we face our fear. Once you faced up to your fear of firearms, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you’d expected, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t. But now that I’m about to die, I deeply regret that I’ve missed out on so much.”
Behind the mask, his eyes narrowed. “Stop saying that! You’re not going to die, and you know it.”
“Believe what you want, but I know better.”
“You’ll have the rest of your life to do all the things you want and, despite what you may think, you’re not a coward. It took a considerable amount of courage to threaten me with a knife.”
“Which I then meekly handed to you.”
“Only because I threatened to shoot you. And don’t forget that you kicked a loaded weapon from my hand.”
“I surprised even myself with that one.”
“It definitely took me by surprise, and I have to say that on both occasions you were quite magnificent.” The quivering candle flames made his eyes sparkle as they gazed at her across the expanse of the mattress. He shifted closer to her and brought her handcuffed hand to his mouth to kiss her palm. Then his lips parted, and the feel of his tongue on her flesh sent a sensation like a low-volt electric charge humming up through her arm straight to the pit of her belly.
When she tried to tug her hand from his, he refused to relinquish it. To cover her disquiet, she said, “What about you? Tell me about your parents.”
Still holding her hand, he said, “My dad was a mean drunk. By the time I was fifteen, I was as tall as him, although he outweighed me by a good forty pounds. He came home drunk one night and bounced my mother off a wall for the last time. I beat him bloody and unconscious, dragged his worthless ass out of the house, and dumped him on the front lawn. Sometime during the night, he awoke and departed for parts unknown. If he’d ever been stupid enough to return, I probably would have killed him.”
His flesh glowed bronze against the white sheets, and she forcibly had to restrain herself from reaching out with her free hand to run her fingers through the dark hair that fanned out over the upper part of his broad chest. “And your mother?”
“Alive and well. She eventually remarried, to a decent man.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“Once. It lasted less than a year.”
“Do you have kids?”
“No.”
“Why’d you get divorced?”
“Let’s just say she wasn’t the person I thought she was.”
Detecting a note of anger behind his words, she decided not to pursue that line of inquiry. “I bet you got married right before you went into the military.”
“I was never in the military. I told that to the state trooper because I knew he would be more congenial if he thought me a brother-at-arms.”
“You’re a liar. If you’ve never been in the military, then where’d you learn to speak Afghan?”
Behind the ski mask, his eyes glittered with irritation, and she suppressed a smirk of satisfaction, knowing it worried him that she knew even that tiny bit about him. “The language is not called ‘Afghan’. It’s Dari Persian.”
“Oh, well, excuse me. Say something.”
He blew out a loud huff of exasperation. After several moments of silence, he began speaking, a
nd the exotic words flowed from his tongue as smoothly as if they were his native language. His voice was deep and husky, the lazy sound of it brushing chills along the length of her spine.
“What did you say?” she asked when he had finished.
“It’s a passage from the Koran.”
So-o-o-o. Not only did he speak the language, he’d studied the Koran. Clearly, he’d served in Afghanistan as more than just a common soldier. She filed this new information away for future reference. “Do you have any pets?”
“No.”
“A girlfriend?”
While the candles threw long, wavering shadows onto the walls, he hesitated before answering. “I’ve been seeing someone.”
The knowledge that he had a girlfriend troubled Larissa for reasons she couldn’t quite define. “Does she know what you do for a living?”
“Of course she does.”
“And she doesn’t mind that you’re a kidnapper?”
“This is not the sort of thing I do for a living. It’s simply a onetime gig I agreed to because the money was good. Accepting it was a mistake that I already regret.”
“Then why not simply let me go?”
“Not only would I be forfeiting the second half of my fee, I’d have to return the first half. I’m sorry.”
“I get so freaking tired of hearing those two words. You men seem to think that you can do whatever the hell you want, and then, when confronted with your transgression, all you have to do is say I’m sorry and all will be instantly forgiven. Well, it doesn’t work that way. I’m sorry is what you say to someone when you forget their birthday, or accidentally bump them in line. If you deliberately do something, and then say I’m sorry, the only thing you’re really sorry about is the fact that you got caught.”
“You’re absolutely right, ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t even begin to suffice. If I could somehow rewind time, I would never have taken this job. But consider this: If I’d refused the job, my client would simply have hired someone else, possibly someone with a violent criminal history. This enterprise could have played out much differently.
Larissa shifted her gaze to the ceiling, hating to admit, even to herself, that he had a point. What if Sparrow had hired some psychopath who made her wear that freaking gag twenty-four hours a day, who beat her at the slightest provocation. And at night, restrained and helpless in the motels …
To dispel these horrifying thoughts, she asked, “So-o-o-o, how much does a kidnapping pay?”
“More than a maintenance man could afford.” Now it was his turn to change the subject. “Have you ever been married?”
“You asked me that before, and I told you I haven’t.”
“You’ve never been married?”
“Why do you find that so hard to accept?”
He suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Well … you’re a beautiful woman, I’m sure you’ve had more than your share of suitors. Why hasn’t some man snatched you up by now?”
That wasn’t it at all, but he obviously wasn’t going to tell her. “I’ve never met a man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And besides, men always expect the women to cook and clean and pick up after them, while their butts stay glued to the sofa in front of the television.”
“Sounds to me like you’ve been choosing the wrong sort of men.”
“Gee, you think?”
What she needed was a man like him, someone organized, self-sufficient, and able to clean up after himself. Someone who could whip up something to eat without either whining for her to do it for him, or feigning incompetence in order to force her to take over.
As the storm slowly subsided, she said, “So-o-o-o, is your girlfriend the reason you’ve comported yourself more or less as a gentleman?”
He regarded her archly. “More or less? Overall, I’d say that my behavior has been exemplary, but my girlfriend has nothing to do with it.”
“Then what’s the reason?”
In a move so fast that she didn’t even see it coming, he was suddenly on top of her, his weight on his elbows as he hovered directly above her. He wasn’t touching her, but he was so close she could feel the heat radiating from him. The room instantly became smaller, darker. The air seemed to have grown thinner, so that she struggled to catch her breath. With a cocky grin, he asked, “Disappointed?”
“Don’t be stupid. I’m extremely grateful that you’ve … you know … not tried to … take advantage of the situation.”
“Somehow, I find that difficult to believe.”
“Why do you always have to be such an arrogant ass?”
“Just in my nature, I guess.” His blue eyes flitted over her face, then fastened on her mouth. As she closed her eyes and braced herself for another kiss, he rolled back over, dropping onto his side next to her.
As she forced down an emotion that felt suspiciously like disappointment, he raised his free hand to trace the fullness of her lower lip with his thumb. “Don’t take my restraint personally. Believe me, I want you. I want you so fucking bad it hurts.” His words sent a shiver racing down her spine and a flush of heat ignited an erogenous zone deep inside. “But when a person is under the total control of another, the right to consent is effectively nullified, making any sexual act an act of rape.”
“Oh.” She swallowed, enormously grateful for his self-control, suspecting that if he attempted to take advantage, she might submit with nary a word of protest. It must be the damned storm affecting her. It had her wound so tight she couldn’t seem to get a grip on her emotions.
When a lazy, knowing smile touched his lips, she adopted an accusatory tone of voice. “In that case, you took advantage both times when you kissed me.”
“I admit to getting carried away in the heat of the moment, but a couple of kisses are hardly akin to rape.”
Thankfully, the sleeping pill was starting to kick in and she could feel the razor-sharp edge of her tension beginning to dull. In a desperate attempt to shift the conversation to a safer, less-stimulating topic, she asked, “Would you really have killed that state trooper today?”
Behind the ski mask, his eyes flicked away from hers and he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “If you’d done something stupid, I would’ve had no choice.”
Not only was he clearly lying, he was doing a poor job of it. Crap! She should have done something, screamed, anything. He might have hurt the young officer, probably would have hurt him, but he would not have killed him. And since the officer had gotten a good look at both her kidnapper and the vehicle he was driving, there would have been a subsequent manhunt launched for him — for them.
What a freaking idiot she’d been. Once again, she’d let fear control her.
Shadows lengthened as the candles began guttering. His eyes had returned to hers, and he was watching her intently. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
He mustn’t know she knew he was lying. “Most of the time you seem to be a decent human being and yet, conversely, you’re capable of killing a policeman in cold blood. Did killing people in Afghanistan harden you to taking lives?”
“It’s easier to kill a person who’s trying to kill you, but one never becomes inured to taking human life. I did not want to kill him and, had you’d forced me to, we both would’ve had to endure that guilt for the rest of our lives.”
Eyelids growing heavy, she covered her mouth and yawned. “I guess I would have been the lucky one then, since the rest of my life can be counted in hours.”
“Goddamn it, how many times have I’ve told you to drop that fucking bullshit!”
Flipping him the bird, she closed her eyes and allowed sleep to pull her into its welcoming embrace.
* * * * *
It was still dark when a dream-induced spike of desire caused Larissa to stir. Her lower belly felt tight with want and anticipation, her breasts full. Only half awake, she pressed herself tighter to him. Nuzzling her face to his shoulder, she caressed his chest, trailed a hand across the rippling firmnes
s of his stomach, then slipped lower yet, to run along the pajama-covered length of his erect penis. It responded to her touch with a jerk, causing a rush of heat to flutter through her stomach.
She was fumbling with the drawstring to his pajamas when she came fully awake.
What the freaking hell?
Outside, rain pattered softly against the window. Not daring to breathe, she lifted her hand and started to ease slowly away from him.
Voice tinged with amusement, he said, “Don’t stop now.”
“I’m so sorry!” she blurted as heat flamed into her cheeks. “How long have you been awake?”
“Longer than you.” Low and husky, his voice seemed to strum her body, making it hum like a tuning fork. “That must have been some dream you were having.”
She rolled away from him, all hot and fluttery. “I’m so embarrassed. It’s those freaking pills you force me to take.”
“Do you mean the pills I forced you take once? The ones that you now constantly beg for?”
“Shut up. I despise you.”
“I could tell that by the way you were fondling me.”
“Screw you!”
The amusement in his voice was obvious as he said to the back of her head, “Don’t blame it on the pills, don’t apologize, and don’t be embarrassed. We’re both healthy adults, and sleeping in the same bed has been tough on both of us. Besides, I can think of no better way to be awakened.”
Her face flamed hotter. He was right though. Having to sharing a bed was extremely trying. She could only imagine how rough it had been for him.
He rolled toward her. “Raise your head and shoulders.” Without thinking, she obediently complied. He shifted his arm beneath her, so that their handcuffed arms wrapped around her torso. Gently pressing her back down, he snuggled up against her, his hard-sculpted muscles pressing warmly against her back. He circled his free arm about her waist and pulled her tight against him, so that his erection pressed into the cleft of her buttocks.
The Heart Has Reasons Page 14