“What?”
“I dutifully kissed their cheeks each time the nanny presented me for inspection, and I received checks from them on my birthday and at Christmas. As for my mother’s parents, they lived in Europe. I rarely saw them. To sum it all up, I wouldn’t have cared if I’d had no grandparents.”
“Oh, you would have cared. If you’d never met them, you’d always wonder what they were like. I’d give anything to have known mine.”
“Elena.” His voice was full of apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“Shhh. I stopped feeling sorry for myself years ago. When you grow up being alone, it eventually feels normal to you. You hear other people talk about their families and you think, ‘How odd to have so many people care what happens to you!’ ”
Audubon rubbed circles in the small of her back. “I know. I’ve always wondered how people can see themselves as part of a group, instead of alone.”
“I envy them.”
“But I wonder if they feel suffocated sometimes.”
“No, I suspect they feel cushioned. Without a family, there’s no one around to catch you when you fall.”
“Or to notice and remind you of your clumsiness.”
“You certainly don’t seem to mind having a son. What an interesting contrast to your cynical view of family life.”
“Kash was already eight years old when Douglas Kincaid and I smuggled him out of Vietnam. And he’d lived a very rough life. It was like moving another adult into the house, not a little boy. Kash and I have never been pals or confidants, the way fathers and sons are supposed to be.”
Elena thought, But your love for him shows every time you mention his name. “Was your father your friend?”
“Hardly. I have better taste.”
“Audubon, what happened to your parents and sister? And why did you sell the estate that had been in your family for generations?”
He was silent, and she lifted her head to look at him. “How did this conversation come to such a morbid subject? I will tell you sometime. But please, let’s save tonight.”
How bad could the story be? Elena’s sympathy mingled with a dark urge to find out. He studied her face. “Don’t be angry. If I didn’t care so much about your opinion of me, it would be easier to share this. But I don’t want to spend tonight discussing something so ugly.”
The quiet anguish in him overwhelmed her questions. She kissed him. Changing the subject abruptly, she held up one wrist and nodded toward the small, oval bump beside the tendon. “When I come out of hiding, one of the first things I’d like to do is have this removed. From now on I want to make my own decisions about my body.”
“Do you want children?”
“Someday, yes. For now I’d just like to know that I control the decision not to have them.”
He circled her wrist with his fingers and rubbed the implant, as he studied it grimly. “I don’t have any right to ask this, but …”
“How many men were there?” She gave him a victorious look. “I can read your thoughts.”
“Hmmm. A psychic talent you haven’t mentioned?”
“No, pure feminine intuition. But I have to remind you that I’ve never asked you about the women in your past. I was afraid I’d be shocked. I was certain I’d be jealous.”
“Let’s put it this way—there are too many for a string quartet but far too few to make a full orchestra. Not a large number considering how many years I’ve been a music fancier. Actually, I’d like to specialize from now on. I’m a one-instrument man, at heart.”
She relaxed, patting his chest. “And you play it so well.”
“Thank you.” The lighthearted conversation didn’t make him forget his earlier question. Winding his fingers through hers reassuringly, he said, “I’m only asking you about the past because this gut-wrenching fear won’t leave me alone.”
“Fear?”
“That you were treated like a clinical sex toy by dozens of men. I want to know how you feel about sex so I won’t upset you in some unknown way when we make love. And frankly, I’d like to be certain that, after everything you went through, you can still enjoy the romance of it. I want you to very much.”
“Dear man.” Unable to say more without crying, she nuzzled his face lovingly until she could calm her voice. “I’ll have to begin writing poetry for you as well as making flowers bloom. I doubt that my poems would be very eloquent, but they’d certainly come from the heart.”
Tilting her head back, she held his gaze firmly and told him about the boy she’d known when she was twenty-one, and then about Pavel, who’d seemed so romantic and sincere but who’d only been following Kriloff’s instructions to keep her occupied, while he reported on her progress.
Audubon looked relieved and sympathetic. “You should have had a few more men, so you’d know exactly how fantastic I am by comparison.”
That broke the somber mood, and she was able to smile. “I have no doubt I’ve found the best. How many men could eat tangerines in bed without getting juice on anything except the breasts of the person next to them?”
“Why, I like fresh-squeezed juice and fresh-squeezed …”
“And how many men could recite Shakespeare while kissing delicate parts of the female body?”
“Not many. Especially when you kept interrupting with your pleas for more. It nearly ruined my concentration.”
“I was asking for more Shakespeare, of course.”
“Of course. Yes, I’m in a class by myself.”
“And so humble about it.”
“But let’s keep talking about you. What do you like best about me?”
They broke into soft laughter at the same time. “Your good taste in choosing women.”
Humming under his breath, he carried her to the side of the pool and lifted her up. The rough-grained stone edge gently abraded the backs of her thighs as she caught her balance. Then his shoulders were spreading her legs, and his hands were sliding up their inner surface, followed by his kisses.
His intentions were as clear as the night sky, and suddenly her skin was alive to its own universe of sensation. Audubon’s arms slid under her legs, and his hands gripped the sides of her hips, helping her to lie back on the smooth tile floor. The pool sipped at her dangling feet. Droplets of water licked her belly as they trickled downward. Audubon began to trace the water’s journey with his mouth. “You taste very good, indeed,” he whispered.
Paradise was this night, and loving him.
The shrill chime of the telephone ended the waiting. Audubon grasped the portable unit from his nightstand before the first chime finished. He’d been awake for hours waiting for this, watching Elena sleep, stroking her hair.
Either she’d been pretending to sleep or sleeping lightly, because now she sat up and trailed a hand over his shoulders as he left the bed. He went to the room’s large window and opened the drapes a few inches as he listened to the voice at the other end of the line.
A white quarter moon sat low in the sky. Its edges were so crisp that the moon looked like a crescent stamped out by a cookie cutter. That whimsical thought was a soothing contrast to the adrenaline pumping into his bloodstream. He told the caller he’d be leaving immediately, then cut the connection, and called downstairs to get the helicopter ready for a trip to the airport where he kept a small, private jet.
When he finally laid the phone down, Elena switched on the Tiffany lamp beside the bed. Her face looked serene in the soft light, but her blue eyes showed stark anxiety. “You’re going to Mexico?”
“Yes, love. I have to.”
She got to her knees on the edge of the bed and held out her arms. His emotions under guard, he stood stiffly beside the bed while she hugged him, with her head against the center of his chest. She sent her strange, wonderful glow through him, and he trembled.
God, he’d try his best to come back to her. If he didn’t, arrangements had been made to transfer an enormous sum of money and valuable stocks to her. Je
opard, Kyle, and Drake would make certain Kriloff could never take her back to Russia. They’d help her settle in this country and see she got her beloved bookstore, her pets, her home.
She’d marry eventually, have children, and think about him less and less as the years passed. She’d keep her amazing gift a secret except to the trusted few she could help without destroying herself.
He wanted that version of the future for her, if he didn’t come back, but right now the thought of it made him feel as though his heart were being ripped out.
She pressed her lips to a spot over his heart, then slid down, placing small kisses on his torso, then his sex, before rising again and lifting her face to his. “I’ll be waiting, my handsome silver fox. I wish you could take my love and my powers with you to keep you safe.”
“I take your love.” He sank his mouth onto hers, tried to make it a kiss she’d never forget, and fought the ache in his throat.
“I’ll keep yours,” she whispered, tears sliding down her cheeks. “When you come back, we’ll share.”
“When I come back, I’ll tell you my full name. That promise is our good-luck charm, all right? What a silly promise, but then, so is all this melodrama. I’ve tackled much more dangerous situations than the one down in Mexico.”
She wiped her tears away and nodded brusquely. “Of course. We Russians are so morbid. It comes from reading Doctor Zhivago too many times when we’re children. Something like that.”
“Oh, I see.”
They kept up the light banter while he showered and dressed. She sat on the side of the bed wearing his oriental robe. While chatting calmly, she wound its black silk belt around her fingers. He unwrapped her fingers and knotted the belt around her waist with a flourish. “You were pulling at it so hard, your fingertips had turned white,” he said gently. “I was afraid your electromagnetic energy would back up and explode. How terrible. You might have a blowout in your elbow.”
“Oh, my. A flat elbow.”
Her face was drawn with restraint. She smiled, but a blue vein showed in the translucent skin near one corner of her mouth. He couldn’t talk to her any longer without admitting his misery, so he gritted his teeth and got ready to leave as quickly as he could. Drawing a long, lightweight white coat over his white trousers and open-necked white shirt, he paused for her inspection.
“I look like a fashionable Mexican businessman, I’d say. Either that, or I need a pair of goggles and a crank for my Model T.”
Her blank reaction said that the very American joke was lost on her, but her admiration was clear nonetheless. She came to him and took his hands. “You make such a dramatic figure that everyone will be intimidated and do exactly as you say. You’ll be back home by tomorrow. With Kash.”
“No doubt at all.” He framed her face with his hands, kissed her lightly on the mouth, then twisted away and grabbed a small leather suitcase he’d packed days ago in case of this emergency. With wooden efficiency he strode into the front room. She hurried after him, and he was afraid she’d cry and make the good-bye even more torturous. I will see her again. I will come back. Or die trying. He opened one of the suite’s outer doors, winked at her, and stepped out quickly.
“Audubon, wait.”
He bit back a groan as she glided into the hall, as graceful as a butterfly in his brilliantly colored robe, her bare feet making no sound on the thick tapestry carpet. She ran to a table and selected a jonquil from a vase there. She brought the unopened flower to him, gave him a jaunty thumbs-up, and held the jonquil out. It bloomed as he watched.
“Dear man, this is love.” Smiling, she placed the flower in his outstretched hand then fled back into the suite, her cheerfulness crumbling. After he heard the doors shut, he exhaled a long, shaken breath. She was worth a lifetime.
Ten
Even though Audubon had been gone less than two days, the mansion felt deserted and lifeless, like a castle with no king. But what alarmed Elena was Clarice and Bernard’s somber mood. She watched them stare listlessly out the windows, their duties forgotten. Elena wandered from room to room, pretending to read a book in the library, talking to the chef about Russian recipes, trying to hide the fact that every nerve was tuned to a high pitch.
Her control evaporated when she walked into the great room and caught Clarice crying inside Bernard’s distraught embrace. They pulled apart quickly. “I shouldn’t watch soap operas,” Clarice said, dabbing at her eyes. “I haven’t cried this much since Nicki had an unknown fatal illness and tried to give Victor back to Ashley on The Young and the Restless.”
“Tell me why you’re so upset about Audubon,” Elena begged, going to them with outstretched hands. “I’ll lose my mind imagining the truth, if you don’t. This couldn’t be how you react every time he goes away on a job.”
Bernard cleared his throat and looked at her kindly. “I assure you, we have no doubt that he and Kash will be fine. Audubon’s work has never been without risks. You mustn’t overreact. He’ll be dismayed when he learns you’re so frantic.”
“Then tell me why the two of you are upset.”
“Clarice and I are growing old. For us, worrying is a hobby. We prefer it to shuffleboard.”
“Bernie, we can’t do this to Elena,” Clarice said hoarsely. “It’s not fair.”
“But it’s what Audubon wants.”
“He loves Elena, and she loves him. Hiding the truth from her right now is an insult to their love.”
After a long moment in which Elena met Bernard’s gaze with pleading silence, he sighed and nodded. “Yes.”
Elena took his hands. “Tell me.”
“Miguel de Valdivia is holding Kash at his ranch. Audubon has gone to trade himself for Kash.”
“But that man hates Audubon! He might even kill—” She stepped back, ice-cold hands rising to her mouth in horror. “Kill him.”
“Yes,” Clarice said, her voice breaking. “If the others can’t find a way to get him out, he’ll probably … die.”
“The others?”
“The best people Audubon has working for him. Plus several of the old group—Jeopard and Kyle Surprise, Drake Lancaster. Also Douglas Kincaid is pulling some very powerful political strings to get help from the military. But Miguel de Valdivia is an important man in his country.” Clarice sneered, as if she wished to spit something vile from her mouth. “The damned diplomats don’t want an international incident.”
Elena heard herself make an inhuman sound, a wail of grief merging with sheer rage. “I’m sick of diplomats and political maneuvers! I won’t give Audubon to their insanity! I won’t let them destroy him!”
She scarcely heard the chime of the manor’s alarm system. Clarice grabbed her by the arm as Bernard ran to an intercom on one cherry-paneled wall. “What is it, Stephen?”
“Unusual visitors just crashed the party. When the Chief’s away, the mice will play. Take cover.”
“Another visit from the FBI,” Clarice muttered. “Come on, Elena.”
They ran to Audubon’s study. Elena’s white leather flats slipped on the carpet and she slammed one knee into a door facing. The pain made her head swim, but she ignored it. She had never been able to heal herself, but no pain could compete with her anguish over Audubon.
On their way to the inner office and its hidden door, Elena grabbed a small paperweight from his desk, desperate to have something that Audubon had touched. Her fingers vibrated against the smooth brown wood of a whimsically carved turtle. It was such an ordinary item that it must mean a great deal to him, she thought. Audubon, feel me loving you. Feel me protecting you. She shoved the funny little turtle into the pocket of her white shirtwaist dress.
A few seconds later she and Clarice were safely hidden in the underground rooms. The phone console beeped on Clarice’s desk. She punched a button.
“They may stay here for hours,” Bernard said in a low voice. “I won’t be able to call you again.”
Elena bent over the intercom. “Is Kriloff with them?�
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“No.”
Clarice was all business and fight. “I’ll get on the private horn. See if I can jerk some tails and get these mice out of our hair.” Her face softened for an instant. “You give ’em hell, Bernie.”
“I’ll freeze them to death with my good manners.”
Elena paced the floor outside Audubon’s office while Clarice phoned people whom she obviously knew well. She called them by their first names and, when they weren’t forthcoming with help, by less polite names. Suddenly one of the fax machines began whirring. As Elena headed toward it, Clarice blocked her way. “The agents use those to send messages.”
“About Audubon.”
“About a lot of things. Let me decide if there’s anything you ought to know. Please, honey. I’m trying to take care of you.”
“If Audubon is dead, I have to know.” She pushed past Clarice and ran to the machine. It birthed a sheet of paper with maddening slowness, and she felt as if her muscles were being stretched on a rack.
Finally a dark, scrawled message emerged. Cash and Carry. The Chief is on deposit. Going back for seconds when we get the contract. It was signed. The Iceman.
A cry of frustration tore from Elena. “Speak English!”
Clarice put an arm around her shoulders. “Kash has been released,” she translated. “Audubon has taken his place.”
“Oh, dear God”
“But Jeopard Surprise and the others will try to help him. They’re deciding the best way to go about it.”
“But maybe there’s no time.”
“No, Miguel de Valdivia won’t act immediately. He savors his revenge. We know that. We’ve studied him for years.”
Elena wouldn’t let herself think about the ways a cruel man would savor revenge. Instead she looked at the ceiling, thinking of the important government people searching for her upstairs, determined to find her. She wasn’t afraid of them or Kriloff anymore. She was only afraid that Audubon would die.
The fax machine hummed again. Elena and Clarice hunched over it. Elena’s eyes burned from staring at the paper creeping out. “Ah, Traynor,” Clarice said with a thoughtful tone, as Bird Dog appeared in fluid, scrolled script. “He’s in charge. He’s our top person.”
The Silver Fox and the Red-Hot Dove Page 16
