Josh woke to a thick, oppressive blackness. There was an incessant roaring in his ears, and the surface on which he lay—which felt suspiciously like a bed—was pitching and rolling. He was on a boat, he realized, blinking, trying to flex his hands and his feet with mixed results. He was blindfolded, tied up and on a boat. He swore softly at the predicament, sheer panic, the kind he’d never known, setting in as he thought of one thing, one person.
“Amanda?” he whispered urgently.
No response.
He turned his head to the right, sensing the presence of someone else in the room. He inched along the soft, giving mattress, and once he got close enough, she rolled against him, deadweight, not making a sound. But it was her; he knew by the way she smelled. He nudged her head with his shoulder, inched down until he had his face against hers, until he could feel the breath coming out of her mouth.
“God,” he said harshly. She was breathing, and she was with him. Now he wanted her to wake up. He needed to know she was okay. “Amanda?”
Nothing.
The last thing he remembered was the sickening smile on Rudy’s face, and then everything went black. He’d been hit, he decided. On the head. It hurt. So did his arms and his wrists. His ankles were bound, too, but he could deal with that.
He listened for a moment to Amanda’s breathing. He listened to the boat. They were running full throttle, in the dark, he suspected. He had an uncanny ability to track the time of day in his head, and he was seldom wrong by more than a few minutes. He thought it was about two in the morning, and from the way no light at all penetrated the blackness under his blindfold, he was likely right. He hoped to hell the person who was driving knew what he was doing.
Josh suspected they were in the Mediterranean. It would be the easiest thing—to toss them on a private boat and take off. But to where? And how long had they been traveling like this? How long did he have before they reached their destination? He had to get himself loose from the ropes, had to get rid of the blindfold. He desperately needed Amanda to wake up and tell him she was okay. He’d promised to keep her safe. He couldn’t let her down.
By his estimation it was nearly an hour later—the longest hour of his life—before she began to stir.
“Shh.” He kissed her softly on the lips.
“Josh?”
“I’m here. I’m right beside you. And we need to be quiet. We don’t want anyone to know we’re awake.” He stayed there, with his face next to hers, nuzzling his nose against hers, his cheek, his relief staggering in its intensity. She was awake.
“Where are we?” she whispered.
“On a boat.” He knew from the rocking motion.
“I can’t see,” she said, panicked.
“You’re blindfolded. Lift your head up a bit, and I’ll get it off.” He caught it in his teeth and tugged awkwardly until it slid off her head. Her eyelids fluttered open, a movement he felt more than saw.
“It’s pitch-black in here,” she complained.
“I think it’s the middle of the night.”
“I can’t move my arms. Or my hands. They’re numb.”
“We’re both tied up, but I can fix that. Are you okay, other than that? Does anything else hurt?”
“My head,” she said.
“He hit you? I want to tear the man apart with my bare hands—”
“No. I just remember getting dizzy. He gave me some wine, and I got dizzy.”
“Drugged you, the bastard,” Josh said. “You’re sure nothing else hurts?”
“I’m just scared,” she confessed.
“I know, Amanda. I know. Let’s work on the ropes first, and then we’ll figure out the rest of it.”
They wriggled around on the bed, until he could get his hands on the ropes binding her hands. Whoever had tied them up must have had some qualms about treating a woman that way, because hers weren’t that tight. Josh had her free quickly, and not long after he was free himself.
“Told you I’m good with knots,” he bragged.
He took a few precious moments to haul her into his arms, telling himself it was to reassure her, but maybe it was to reassure himself, too. She was okay for the moment. He searched the cabin, checking windows, the door, checking for anything that might be helpful to them as they tried to get out of this mess and finding little.
Looking out the cabin windows, he saw there were at least four armed men on the boat. Three were wandering the deck, talking quietly, laughing at times, and there had to be one man piloting the craft. They were speaking Italian, Josh thought, but he had trouble making out the words. He jammed the lock on the door. No one was getting in without him knowing about it first.
Then he slipped back onto the bed. Amanda rolled into his arms, as if she were meant to be there. As if they were two halves of a whole. Josh would have said it was the stuff of bad romantic lines until this moment, until he felt the rightness of it. The two of them lying on their sides facing each other, her snuggling against him, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
“I’m sorry about this,” he said.
“It’s not your fault,” she insisted.
“I told you I’d keep you safe. I promised—”
“This is not your doing, Josh. It’s Rudy’s and whoever’s working with him.” She shivered. “What happened?”
“Bad luck, I suppose. Or maybe Rudy’s suspicious mind. I caught a glimpse of a man I know from Rome. Someone I did business with years ago. Someone who has as much reason to hate me as Rudy. And I know who has the uranium now.”
“Oh. But Rudy knows for sure who you really are? What you do?”
“Looks like it.”
“What do you think they’ll do to us?”
“I don’t know.”
He heard an odd hitch in her voice as she asked, “What are we going to do?”
“Get ourselves rescued, I hope.”
“You hope?”
“We had two agents in Nice. They were hanging back, but they were there. I’ve got to believe they’re tracking us—”
“How?”
“One of the guards outside is wearing my Breitling.”
“A Breitling?”
“It’s a watch.” Josh smiled. “A rather extravagant one. He probably filched it when he tied us up. The watch has a very sophisticated tracking device inside it. It’s saved me more than once. So Division One knows where we are.”
“And they’ll come get us?”
“Someone will,” he said.
“What do you mean, someone?”
“A situation like this calls for more military might than Division One normally uses. A big, military helicopter, lots of ammunition, a small team of soldiers trained in hostage rescue. I’d guess Dan will call in a Navy Seal team.”
“You guess?” She sounded skeptical.
“Yes. We threw this thing together pretty quickly, without as many contingencies in place as I would have liked. But things happen that way sometimes. You just have to move.” He hesitated. “I’m a good guesser, did I mention that?”
“No. When do you guess they’ll come for us?”
“About an hour before dawn, the most dangerous hour of the day. People get tired. Their senses aren’t as sharp. Their bodies crave sleep. They don’t react as quickly. You can only keep running on adrenaline for so long. Pretty soon it shuts down. Fatigue takes over. And then boom, that’s when they come at you.”
“So what do we do?”
“Wait and be ready,” he said.
“You have a lot of faith in these people, in the system.”
“It’s not the first time the system or the people have come through for me,” he said, but he could still feel her doubts. “There are too many armed men outside, Amanda. If it was just me, I’d take my chances. But you’re with me, and that changes things. I won’t take that risk with you. We’ll wait. If no one’s come to get us by dawn, we’ll try something else.”
“Oh. Okay.”
She still was tense.
He could feel it. He rolled over onto his back and pulled her along with him, hauling her on top of him. Her head fell to that spot on his shoulder she seemed to crave. One of her hands was pressed flat against his chest, over his heart, and she brushed her other hand across his chest. He rubbed at the tension at the base of her spine, tried to ignore the way one of her thighs had slipped between his.
“I’m so scared,” she confessed.
He tugged on the ends of her hair with one hand, until she lifted her head, and then he pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her softly, leisurely, not looking for heat or passion or anything like that, but finding it anyway. She kissed him back greedily, hungrily, and her body relaxed totally against his. It was as if she’d been turned into liquid and poured over him, molding herself to him. Her breasts were firm and heavy against his chest, her mouth was hot and eager, and in seconds there was an incessant pressure in his groin, which was nothing new. He was always aroused when she was close, and he was used to ignoring that fact. He broke off the kiss. She didn’t move, her face right above his, her dewy soft lips mere inches away.
“I forget to be scared when you do that,” she said. “I forget everything else in the world but you, when you touch me.”
He laughed a bit and slid his hand along the side of her face, into her hair, holding her there. “Are you trying to take advantage of the situation again? Take advantage of me?”
“Have you ever been taken advantage of?”
“Now that you mention it, I don’t think I have.”
“I want to be the first,” she said.
He let himself kiss her again, didn’t try to fight the heat that was thundering through his veins. They had hours until dawn, and she needed to be in his arms. They were alone. The door wasn’t coming open without a good bit of warning; he’d seen to that. He could chase away her fears. A few slow, hot kisses would do it. It didn’t have to lead to anything else. He could keep all this under control.
Long, hot moments later, she pulled her mouth from his. “You’re still intent on saving me for some man who might never show up, aren’t you.”
“Let me do the right thing, Amanda. For once in my life—”
“I don’t buy it, Josh. Not anymore. I know you, and it just so happens you’re a very nice man. One of the nicest men I’ve ever known.”
“Nice?” He groaned.
“Kind, thoughtful, generous, patient, incredibly protective of me. I don’t know where you’ve been all your life not to notice, but believe me, most men aren’t nearly as good to a woman as you are.”
“Amanda,” he groaned. He hadn’t been nice to her. He’d taken advantage of her and hurt her, and he wasn’t going to do that anymore.
But he could kiss her, so he did. They sank down into the bed. It was like sinking into air. The mattress pillowed up around them. It was still dark, and the roar of the engine drowned out nearly every other sound. They were in their own little cocoon, locked away from the rest of the world.
He thought of the places he’d imagined taking her. Far, far away, where it was just the two of them. He wanted to be in that place with her, wanted weeks, months, wanted a long, long time to make love to her with no holding back.
“Please,” she said.
“It’s not going to happen, Amanda.”
“You’re so sure I’d be better off with someone else? You’re so sure that the next man will be so much better for me than you are? So much more considerate and patient and kind?” she said. “We may not even make it off this boat alive.”
“So this is a dying wish now?”
“Would that work?”
“No. We’re not going to die.”
But he went right on kissing her. He was getting used to this, he told himself. Sexual frustration and need like he’d never known. He figured he could deny himself just about anything if he could get off this boat without making love to her—which he was determined to do. But he could also give himself just a little bit more of her, could give her more, as well. He told himself not to, but his hand went to work at the buttons on her blouse, pushing her clothes aside until he had one bare breast in his hand. One delicate, soft, full breast.
“Kiss me.” She sucked in a breath. “Right there.”
“This is not what I had in mind,” he argued, even as he shifted her, until she had a thigh on either side of his hips, until there was an even snugger fit of her body against his. He lifted his head and found her nipple, drawing it into his mouth and laving it with his tongue. He loved the taste of her skin, the exquisite delicateness of her body, the softness. Those sweet, shy hands, spread against his chest, her head falling against his until her mouth was nibbling on the rim of his ear.
“It’s so good,” she whispered to him. “I can’t believe how good it is when you touch me.”
He indulged himself with the taste of her and by letting his hands run over her body, arousing her to a fever pitch. He stripped off her pants and her underwear and laid her on her back. She made quick work of the buttons of his shirt and he threw it off and lowered his body to hers, skin to hot, sweat-slick skin. She gasped when his chest came into contact with hers. He backed off a bit and rubbed his body against hers, teasing her. He’d forgotten just how good it could feel, nothing but the slide of naked flesh against naked flesh.
Her breasts were surprisingly full and her nipples little pebbly points that pressed into his chest. He stroked a hand down the side of her body. Her thighs parted willingly for him. He stroked her there, slid one finger inside of her, finding her slick and swollen and ready for him.
Kissing her hungrily, he stroked her to satisfaction, barely managing to smother her cry with his mouth. She responded to him completely, without holding anything back, and he let himself lie heavily on top of her as he kissed her again, easing her down slowly, the throbbing ache in his groin nearly blinding him to everything else. He fought it, fought to think, to find a shred of control.
But her hands were on his chest, stroking him, dipping lower. One delicate hand closed over the bulge at the front of his pants. He arched deeper into the mattress, away from her, and sucked in a breath, perilously close to coming apart right then, just from the delicate touch of her hand through his clothes. Josh thought about just letting it happen. It would solve the worst problem of his shrinking sense of self-control. He could let her take him between those delicate hands of hers and be done with it.
“Hell,” he muttered. He’d be hard again in seconds. He knew it.
“I want it to be you,” she said. “Isn’t it enough that I want it to be you?”
“Amanda.” He pulled her hands away, settling his body against hers, pinning her down with all his weight and imagining the incredible luxury of sinking inside of her, of all that liquid heat, that tight, slick passage. “I want to. God, I want to.”
“Then do it,” she said.
“I don’t even have a condom. I haven’t done it without a condom since I was sixteen and too stupid for words.”
“I won’t get pregnant,” she claimed. “I know my own body. It’s the absolute wrong time.”
“Not enough,” he argued.
But he kissed her some more, trying to soothe her, trying to ease her frustrations and his rather than heighten them. It wasn’t working. He knew he would never forget the delicious feel of her in his arms, the way she smelled, the way she tasted, the sweet sounds she made. Just for him, he thought. All of this, all of her, could be his and no one else’s.
Suddenly, from outside the cabin, seemingly right on the other side of the wall, came shouting. An angry burst of Italian. Startled, Amanda cried out herself, and he pressed his hand over her mouth and urged her to be still. He’d heard faint rumblings of voices all along; he hadn’t so entirely forgotten himself and his responsibilities that he was oblivious to what had been going on around him. But this was different. An argument of some kind. It scared her, scared him, too.
He pulled the covers off the bed, wrapped her in th
em and then he sat with his ear against the outer wall of the cabin, trying to make out what they were saying. His Italian wasn’t bad, but the words were muffled, distorted by the angry tone.
It was about Amanda. He got chills when he figured out what they were saying. They were arguing about her. About what they intended to do to her. It seemed both men had ideas. Very similar ideas. That sickened him.
Josh waited there until the argument was over, until everything quieted down and he was satisfied that nothing was going to happen anytime soon. It was a little after four, he calculated, and from what he’d heard, they still had some time.
He walked back over to the bed, and she reached for him. He took her hand in his and held on to it, thought about those delicate, soft hands of hers trying to fight off a man intent on hurting her.
That’s what they intended, and he would stop them or die trying.
He honestly believed he could stop them. Still…
“What is it?” she whispered.
“Nothing,” he lied. “They just had a little argument. It’s done now.”
He couldn’t imagine a woman’s first sexual experience being anything like that. A frightening, hurtful, show of force, of rage, of violence. He couldn’t see how she would ever get past an experience like that, if that was all she’d ever known of sex. Which meant he was trying once again to justify what he wanted so desperately. He wanted to make love to her. He was dying to find a reason, And he might not be able to protect her.
Josh closed his eyes. He wasn’t invincible, but he didn’t think he was about to die. He had so much more to do and see and experience. He didn’t think she was about to die, either, would never forgive himself if she did. But he couldn’t be sure this thing wouldn’t turn very ugly before it was over. He couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t be hurt, maybe by those men outside arguing over who could have her first. He got sick just thinking about it.
“Josh?” she said. “Come back to bed.”
He thought about what she’d said earlier, about the next man. There were no guarantees of what the next man she found would be like, even if it was someone she gave herself to freely and willingly. She’d had lousy luck with men, after all. But Josh would be exquisitely careful with her. He would make sure she thoroughly enjoyed it, and he wanted her first time to be good for her. He wanted every time to be good, wanted nothing but the best for her, always.
Cinderella and the Spy Page 18