by Sara Craven
Even if the man’s motives were lofty and he let her live, she would never be allowed to leave the island if he succeeded in what he was doing. Their mission had to succeed and the team would have to arrive soon to accomplish that.
Eric’s command of the language was imperfect, interspersed with many more spelled-out words than she used, but it proved fully understandable.
Every now and then, he would speak out loud as Jarad, ordering her around, sounding suggestive and teasing. Finally, downright provocative. Dawn got the feeling that he meant at least half of it.
She watched his hand rise and approach her breast. With one wet finger, he touched her through the gown and smiled into her eyes. His lips formed the words, “I want you” while he made the sign for it.
Her heartbeat raced even faster. What would it be like to take his dare, to slip off the satin and slide into the warm water beside him? Her imagination ran wild. She knew exactly what it would feel like. Dawn needed to be held. And he wanted to hold her, that was very clear.
Their gazes locked. What was left of her resolve melted. She stood, peeled off her peignoir and gown and stepped into the huge marble tub. He reached over and pushed the button to turn on the jets of water, surrounding them with warm, powerful streams that seemed to force their bodies closer.
Not that she needed a push. His hot slick skin slid against hers when he embraced her, firing her to fever pitch as his lips met hers in a devouring kiss. Damn the mikes, she couldn’t contain the groan that rose from her throat, merging with his.
He lifted her slightly and entered her without breaking the kiss. Complete, she thought. I feel complete. Nothing mattered but this, this incredible oneness.
He felt the same and she knew it somehow, sensed that he had abandoned all caution, all thought of self-preservation, all pretense. This was as real as it got. And as profound a feeling as she had ever experienced. Nothing compared.
Dawn moved sinuously, grasping for more, winding her arms around his neck, sliding her fingers through his hair and holding on for dear life. The sensations bombarding her stole what breath she had left. Strong pulsating jets pummeled the base of her spine and the middle of her back. Powerful legs entwined with hers.
The scent of him, earthy, exotic, mingled with the sandalwood soap that half coated his body. His growl of pleasure reverberated through her while his hands glided over her, now gripping firmly, then searching madly.
Higher and higher she flew until he splayed one hand against her lower back and pressed her to him for a final, shuddering thrust. She must have cried out. His mouth covered hers and took them under the water for a second. That did anything but douse the pure glee that welled up inside her.
They surfaced, sputtering and laughing, bodies still joined. His expression grew tender as he brushed the wet hair from her eyes and looked into them, the sign for I love you on the hand he used for the caress.
Did he realize that? It was a fairly common position for a hand to take, thumb and fingers extended except for the middle and ring fingers, which were folded down.
This was no time to think about love. She was lying in a bathtub wired for sound, glowing in the aftermath of the greatest sex she’d ever had, and in the greatest danger she’d ever encountered in her life.
Slowly he lifted her off of him and sat up. “Later, then,” he muttered, sounding very sure of himself.
His on-the-mark comment shocked her a little. No, he couldn’t be reading her mind, but he sure wanted her to think he was. What she was thinking was probably written all over her face with her defenses down the way they were.
Dawn scrambled out of the tub as gracefully as she could and grabbed a towel. She tossed him one, too. Hit him in the face with it and grimaced when he raised both eyebrows and offered her a satisfied grin.
“I hate you!” she signed with fake vehemence.
He laughed soundlessly and began to dry off.
Dawn had a feeling she wasn’t going to get out of this with her heart intact even if she did survive the mission. If she had any sense, she would rebuild her barriers even higher and denser than before. She did not need to fall in love with Eric Vinland. She wouldn’t.
Eric’s certainty about Dawn’s feelings began to fade as soon as she left the bathroom. He wrapped the towel around his waist and watched her march across the sitting room and enter her bedroom. She didn’t slam the door, but she closed it firmly, letting him know she wanted to be alone.
He wasn’t used to this. Oh, he occasionally ticked women off, sure, and most of the time it was on purpose when they got too involved. But he knew Dawn wasn’t really angry with him. Embarrassed, maybe, or upset that she had sort of lost control. Hell, he had, too.
He shouldn’t have seduced her in there, not with microphones stuck all over the place. He hadn’t intended to carry through and actually have sex with her, but things had gotten out of hand in a hurry. Not that they had made much noise.
She probably wondered if he had done it on purpose, staking his claim so Quince would know they were being intimate. To tell the truth, he hadn’t so much as thought about their host or hidden mikes or anything else once he had begun to kiss her. There could have been cameras running and he wouldn’t have cared.
Well, he would have cared, of course, but probably after the fact. He gave a mirthless little chuckle. So much for professionalism. Damn, the woman had him off center. She had wrecked his confidence in his psychic abilities. Or destroyed them. He wasn’t even picking up any thoughts when he tuned in on the others, only reading their body language and expressions as anyone might do.
As a quick check, he tried to connect with Clay who was somewhere out there lurking in the trees and rocks.
Nothing. No matter how hard he concentrated. Not one damn thought. Of course, Clay could be asleep. Eric tried to visualize. Most of the time he could do that, get a brief glimpse of a person’s surroundings in real time. Nothing.
He had picked up a brief warning out there in the dark when he was on his walk. Go back to the house. However, that could have been his own alarm system kicking in and not anyone else’s thoughts at all. Dawn had been alone with Quince, and he hadn’t liked leaving her.
Everything always came back to Dawn. She was his primary concern and that shouldn’t be the case. The mission was the all-important thing here. He needed to remember that.
He thought about linking with Mercier, sending a concentration of energy that would serve as a green light to ending all this. But there was a new group of bidders arriving tomorrow. Better that they were already on the island with less chance to escape capture. No, he couldn’t endanger the mission merely to test his powers.
He cursed under his breath and went to his own room to put on some clothes. And he was keeping his clothes on until this thing was over and they were back on the mainland, he firmly promised himself.
Damn Dawn’s pretty little hide, she had probably ruined him for this kind of work. He might wind up teaching languages at Podunk University one of these days instead of what he was doing now, but he couldn’t for a second regret what he felt for her, despite that. She was worth any price he had to pay if she loved him, too.
He had been so sure she did in those intimate moments. It was as if he could reach clear into her soul and experience every nuance of her feelings right along with her, a sharing such as he had never known before. Now he wondered if maybe he had been indulging in a fantasy.
The time had come to get his act together and put his personal life on hold, or he and Dawn might not have lives to straighten out later. Whatever Quince’s objective was, he meant business.
Breakfast was at nine on the terrace. Eric and Dawn were seated having coffee when Quince arrived, for once unsmiling. He sat down, leaned forward and clasped his long, slender hands on the tabletop, looking from one to the other. “Carlotta and Sean are gone. No one can find them.”
Eric heard Dawn’s gasp and wondered if it was real or for effect. He wasn’t a
ll that surprised and she shouldn’t be. Quince didn’t exactly look broken up by the news, but there was a shade of worry in his eyes.
“Maybe they found a way off the island,” Eric suggested.
“No,” Quince assured him. “Carlotta did not leave. Not the way you mean.”
The minute Carlotta and Sean left for their walk, everyone figured that one of them would not be coming back.
“Then what do you think has happened to her?” Dawn asked.
Quince shrugged and sat back, allowing Conroy to pour his coffee. “It appears that she fell from one of the rock faces. There were signs of a struggle. One of her shoes was found on a ledge ten feet down. There are jagged rocks lining the shore at the bottom of that cliff. She probably fell and was washed out to sea.”
“And Sean?” Dawn asked.
“Missing,” Quince admitted, biting off the word as he raised his cup to his lips.
“Not for long, I’m certain,” Eric commented. “I shouldn’t think there are many places to conceal oneself on an island of this size. Besides, he will return in order to make his bid.”
Quince said nothing further as they finished their morning repast of delicious pastries and fruit. Then he excused himself and left the house.
Dawn quickly slid out of her chair. “I think I will go upstairs and read for a while.”
“I’ll come with you.”
When they got upstairs, they headed straight for the bathroom. She whirled around and signed to him. “We should find out whether this group arriving today will really be the last.”
Eric agreed. “We need the list. There’s a computer in Quince’s study where I was taken when we arrived. If we could somehow bypass the cameras, maybe we could get into his files. He will delete everything if our people lose the element of surprise when they come in.”
She nodded and sat down on the edge of the platform around the tub to think. “There has to be a base of operations somewhere in the house. The trick is finding it without being seen.” She brightened, making the sign for idea. “The secret door Quince used to come in here! Maybe the corridor inside the walls leads to the control room.”
Eric picked up his shaving cream container and went back to the sitting room. Casually moving a chair to the outermost wall near the window, he climbed up and squirted a little glob of foam into the hole that was the size of a quarter. That was the only camera in the room and by staying near the wall, took advantage of its limited scope. “There,” he signed.
Dawn gave him a thumbs-up and began searching for the release mechanism where Quince’s hidden door was located. But it was nowhere to be found. She and Eric punched and prodded every possible location and nothing happened. “Remote control,” she mouthed and then shrugged.
Well, it had been a great idea as far as it went, Eric thought, disappointed. He would just have to get into the control room another way.
Someone rapped on the door to the hallway. Eric went to answer. It was Conroy. “More guests have arrived, sir. You and the lady are requested to attend Mr. Quince in the lounge.”
Eric nodded and beckoned to Dawn. They followed the butler down the stairs. Seated in the room with Quince were three men in business suits.
Quince stood. The others remained seated. “Ah, Jarad. Come and meet Cal Markham. He has come all the way from the States. He runs an organization that plans to better the fate of Americans.” Then he slid his jaw to one side in a wry look. “Selected Americans, of course.”
Markham shot Quince a killing look. Their host ignored it and proceeded to introduce another of the men. “And here we have Boris Korkova, who intends to reorganize the Kremlin.” Quince issued a little chuckle. “And finally Ali Mohandra. He hails from the Sudan. Allah only knows what he’s up to because he insists on secrecy. But we can guess, can we not?”
“Damn you, Quince!” the man shouted as he leapt to his feet. The two armed guards raised their weapons.
Quince lifted his eyebrows and smiled. “Please resume your seat, Ali.” He then turned to Eric and Dawn. “I would like you all to meet the esteemed Jarad Al-Dayal and his lovely wife, Aurora.” He made a slight bow in Dawn’s direction. “Jarad is well-known for his unorthodox methods of warfare against the Western powers that be. I hope no one here takes offense at that.” He looked pointedly at Markham, who was grinding his teeth. “After all, Cal, he is abetting your contretemps with your American government.”
Boris rose slowly from his chair. “Now that you have done your social duties, Quince, I see no reason to delay. Let us get on with the bidding.”
“Not today,” Quince replied, strolling over to take Dawn’s arm. “I don’t like skipping the amenities. First, we shall take a tour of my home so you will all feel comfortable. Then we will take a turn around the island.”
“Now see here…” Cal began to protest.
“Come along,” Quince advised, pointedly gesturing to the two armed guards. “Now.”
With Quince and Dawn in the lead and the others in tow, the guards brought up the rear as they wound through the downstairs rooms, suffering Quince’s running dialogue as he admired his own art objects and antiques, inviting comments.
No one provided them but Dawn, who said all the right things and kept her arm linked with Quince’s.
Eric trusted Dawn would keep the man’s attention off him while he tried to figure out where Quince’s control room was located.
He also noted the position of the cameras. No way those could be avoided in an out-and-out search of the place. They had to find out how to get into that hidden passageway. He wondered if anyone had noted yet that the camera in the main room of their suite was no longer operational.
When they toured upstairs, he saw a jog in the wall of the hallway that shouldn’t be there, according to the shape of the rooms they were allowed to view. That must be Control.
Dawn turned slightly and met his gaze. She had figured it out, too. Even that feat didn’t account for the smug little upturn of her lips. What was she up to now?
He begged off the tour of the island, which he and Dawn had already been through the day before. To his surprise, Quince allowed it.
Who would be missing on their return? Eric wondered. Not that he cared. Dump all these guys off a cliff and no one would be the worse for the loss.
As soon as they were alone again, seated in the lounge with a glass of juice, Dawn toyed with the scarf she wore around her neck, surreptitiously finger-spelling the word remote. Then she patted the pocket of her skirt and winked.
Damn! She had lifted the remote control right out of Quince’s pocket! Eric suggested they retire to their rooms immediately.
“What a cream-fed expression you wear, little cat,” he said as he escorted her up the stairs. “It makes a man wonder what you have in mind.”
She wisely didn’t reply, but flashed him a droll look as they reached the door to their suite. He hoped anyone watching them would think they had come upstairs with sex in mind and would leave them alone for an hour or so. He also hoped that if anyone was minding the cameras, they didn’t intend to stick around for the show.
Chapter 13
As soon as they reached their rooms, Dawn systematically found and disabled the two mikes she knew were in the sitting room. They were exactly where any novice would have planted them, which sent up red flags in her mind. Quince was no beginner at this. She kept searching, as did Eric.
When Eric grunted with satisfaction, she turned to see him taking care of another that had been placed in the side hem of one of the drapes. He gave her a nod. “That’s all.”
She smiled and pulled the remote out of her pocket, waggling it in front of him.
“Dangerous,” he commented, but she could see he was impressed with her pickpocketing ability.
Hopefully Quince wouldn’t miss the thing until he got back to the house. By that time, she hoped to have placed it somewhere that he might have inadvertently lost it.
“Stay here,” she whispe
red. “Make some noise in the bathroom so they’ll think we’re in there. If anyone’s listening, I’ll need them distracted.” She kicked off her shoes so she could move soundlessly.
“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” With a flourish, she pointed the remote at the wall and pushed the button. A panel slid back, just as it had when Quince was there.
“Be careful,” he warned. “Leave that door open and yell if you run into trouble.”
She blew Eric a kiss and stepped into the narrow corridor to explore.
The passageway, less than two feet wide, had not been finished on the inside and she had to take care not to snag her dress on the rough timbers.
If she went right, she knew it would lead to the quarters of the other guests. Since their rooms were closest to the irregular wall they had seen, she went left. She tried to visualize where it was leading her, though she knew roughly where the control room must be from her earlier observations. It couldn’t be very large, possibly only six by nine feet. Close quarters for a confrontation if anyone was in there.
She crept forward as quickly as she could, running out of light from the open door after she turned the corner. Feeling her way along, measuring the distance by the protrusion of the studs placed at four-foot intervals. Suddenly, the floor seemed to fall away, but her foot caught on a step as she grabbed one of the timbers. There were stairs! Quince’s control room wasn’t on this floor after all.
Cautiously she descended, the darkness total now, and came to a closed door at the bottom. Dawn felt carefully for a knob or handle. There was none. She took a deep breath, almost coughing at the stuffiness of the air. Then she fished the remote out of her pocket, backed up a few steps and pushed the button. The light almost blinded her.
She bent double and head-butted the figure that had stood to greet her. A loud oof resulted. Without a pause, she fell back and kicked upward, catching him just beneath the chin.
Thank God he wasn’t one of the beefy armed guards Quince employed. A computer geek, she guessed, not trained in hand-to-hand.