Eye of the Beholder

by Ingrid Weaver

  “Glenna, we have to stop.”

  “Rafe, touch me.”

  “You’re reacting to the stress,” he said, his voice rough. “You’re on a high. You don’t really want—”

  “I want you, Rafe.”

  He expelled his breath on a short, muttered obscenity. But he didn’t move his hands. Instead, he curled forward and pressed his face between her breasts.

  The beard stubble on his jaw scraped over her tender skin. His breath was hot on her chest. Then he turned his head and his breath whispered over her nipple.

  Glenna gasped, her nipples swelling and hardening instantly. Her flesh was so sensitive the mere movement of air made her shudder. She bit her lip, some corner of her brain that still functioned telling her not to scream, but when he didn’t move, when he didn’t take what she’d bared for him, she was unable to stop the whimper of longing. She released his wrists and grasped his head, guiding herself toward him. “Rafe…please…”

  As tenderly as a sunlit breeze, his lips traced the curve of her breast.

  He understood. That didn’t surprise her. There was a bond between them. She’d sensed it from the first moment she’d looked into his eyes. “More,” she said.

  “Glenna—”

  “Now. I need…more.”

  He rolled her nipple on his tongue, then drew it into his mouth and sucked.

  She was panting now. She heard the soft noises she made and was helpless to stop. She grasped his shoulders and raised her body so she could rub against the long, firm bulge at his groin. She felt no shame. There wasn’t room for it.

  Rafe tipped back his head and moved his hands to her waist. He lifted her up enough to stop her movements. “We can’t, Glenna.”

  She trembled. Dammit, they could. They had to. This could be her last chance. It could be her final night on earth and she wasn’t going to waste it. She’d tiptoed through her life. She wanted to let go, to feel, to love, to lose control. “Rafe, please! Don’t stop. Don’t make me beg.”

  He swore again. He lifted her off him completely, laying her on her back on the floor. Then he stretched out beside her, brought his mouth back to hers and slipped his hand under her skirt.

  At the first touch of his fingers, she started to shake. She was so close to the edge. So close. When he moved his thumb, she cried into his mouth and let the passion take her. Release surged over her in wave after shuddering wave

  Yes. Yes! She sobbed, squeezing her thighs shut on his hand, holding him there, prolonging the moment. Yes, oh yes, oh yes. This was good. This was real. The rest wasn’t. The rest she wouldn’t think about. Only this man. Only Rafe with his battered face and his gentle gaze and his magic, magic touch.

  The waves built and crested again, carrying her hips off the floor. Glenna flung out her arms and arched upward, holding her breath, her body tensing, shaking, straining…

  She shattered suddenly. The tension drained, leaving her limp and sobbing. She was still sobbing as Rafe straightened her clothes and pulled her into his arms.

  He stroked her hair, his large, strong hand cupping her head. “Shh,” he whispered. “It’ll be all right.”

  She nuzzled into the hollow of his shoulder. He was still rigid. “Rafe, we can’t stop yet…you didn’t…”

  “Go to sleep.”

  “I can’t.” She lifted her hand to his chest. Her arm felt boneless, as if her strength had drained along with her tension. She tried to focus her thoughts, but it was as if the passion had shut down her mind.

  And that’s what she’d really wanted.

  Had he understood that, too? “Rafe…”

  “Glenna, trust me. You can.”

  Rafe checked the clock in his head. Only eight minutes left and the two hours would be up. He would have to wake her soon.

  On the other hand, would it make that much difference whether they moved in eight minutes or eighteen? His timetable had been arbitrary. Their odds wouldn’t be much different if they waited a while longer. Glenna needed the rest.

  And the truth was, Rafe wasn’t looking forward to waking her. As long as she was lying so soft and trusting in his arms, her hand riding his chest, her head nestled into the crook of his neck, he could delay the inevitable regrets.

  What he had done was inexcusable. She had an excuse, he didn’t. He’d never intended to let things go so far. He’d taken advantage of her. Sure, she’d practically begged him, and yes, he’d given her more than one opportunity to stop, and okay, she’d benefited from the release of tension. She’d been pumping adrenaline, strung out with nerves, in no condition for an escape attempt, but now that she had caught some sleep, her mind and body would be better equipped to handle whatever might happen.

  But he hadn’t been thinking about that when he’d touched her. No, he hadn’t kissed her because he figured that would help her relax. His motives had been purely selfish.

  He wanted her. Plain and simple. Nothing noble about that. Being left in a state of acute discomfort hadn’t detracted from the pleasure he’d gained from giving Glenna pleasure. Even knowing that she’d used him hadn’t made any difference.

  And she had used him, he reminded himself. He could have been anyone. People reacted to stress in a wide variety of ways. Over the years, he’d seen it all. Some got hysterical, screaming and crying out their fears. Some withdrew into the total escape of catatonia. Some did what Glenna had done, desperately channeling all the flight-fight hormones that were stirred up by the fear into an equally primitive emotion—lust. He’d felt it himself when he’d rolled on top of her, back when he’d first awakened in this room. She probably didn’t even understand what had come over her. He couldn’t take it personally. As he’d already told himself, any warm body would have served her equally well in the dark.

  Unlike her, though, he had no illusions. He knew what was going to happen if they ever got out of here. As soon as she got back to her high-powered job and manicured men, she’d realize how low she’d sunk. She’d be aghast at her behavior. She’d look on him with revulsion. She’d pretend she’d never done anything so sordid as make love with a virtual stranger—an ugly stranger—on a concrete floor.

  He dipped his head, burying his nose in Glenna’s hair. He inhaled her scent to block out the odor of the storeroom. Traces of her tangy-sweet perfume, hints of shampoo and the underlying scent of a warm female. Heady stuff. Almost made him wish…

  He yanked his thoughts back on track before they could veer in that direction. They hadn’t made love, he reminded himself. They’d done a sexual act, that’s all. Not even a very good one, considering how quickly it had been over.

  And it was over. No doubt about that. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by this woman again. He had to focus on getting her out safely. That was his job.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. Six more minutes. Then they would move. He stroked his hand across her cheek…and his fingertips brushed the tracks of her dried tears.

  Damn, he was a bastard. But what else was new? He moved his hand to her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. “Glenna?”

  She stretched briefly, her breasts pressing into his ribs, then she snuggled her head more tightly against his neck.

  Rafe gritted his teeth and shook her again. “Glenna, wake up.”

  She stilled. Her breathing changed from the slow, deep inhalations of sleep to shallow bursts. “Rafe?”

  He could hear the confusion in her voice. He could imagine the dazed expression on her beautiful face. If they were anywhere else, he’d wake her up with a kiss and coax her body into awareness and—

  No. If they were anywhere else, she wouldn’t even be with him. “I’ve been listening to the guards outside the door,” he said. “One of them left fifty minutes ago, so that leaves only two.”

  She took her hand from his chest and rubbed her face. “I…I must have fallen asleep,” she said, her voice muffled.

  “Yeah. I’m hoping the guards did, too, but even if they didn’t, the odds have
improved.”

  “I can’t believe I slept.”

  “Feel better?”

  “Yes, I—” She stopped suddenly. Her body tightened. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. She pushed herself out of his embrace and rolled awa

  Well, that didn’t take long, he thought. He sat up, resting his arm on his bent knee. “Glenna—”

  “Oh, my God. I can’t believe I…we…”

  He was grateful for the darkness. He didn’t want to see the look on her face. “Forget it. Things happen. We have more important problems to worry about.”

  She was silent for a while. “I’m sorry, Rafe,” she said finally. “I…I took advantage of you.”

  That stunned him. She was apologizing? To him? “Glenna, I’m the one who owes you an apology.”

  “No, you don’t. It was—”

  “A mistake,” he said gruffly. “I shouldn’t have gone so far.”

  “I wanted you to.”

  “You were stressed-out and didn’t know what you were doing.”

  “You’re wrong, Rafe. I know what I’m doing. I’m living.” Her fingers brushed his sleeve. Her voice steadied. “And I won’t have any regrets. I promised myself that.”

  Yeah, right, he thought. “Like I said, you’re stressed-out. How’s the ankle?”

  “My…” There was a shuffling sound. “It’s still sore.”

  “Do you think you can walk on it?”

  “I guess. Not far.”

  “We’ll need a vehicle once we get out of the house.”

  “Yes, I remember you mentioned that before.”

  “Once we see where we are, we’ll make our way to an alternate extraction point and wait for my team.”

  “Wouldn’t they have left by now?”

  “They’ll come back.”

  “Rafe?”

  “What?”

  “Whatever happens, I want you to know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done.” She slid her fingers down his sleeve to the back of his hand. “I’d never have gotten this far without you.”

  “I don’t want your gratitude, Glenna.”

  “It’s more than gratitude I feel for you, Rafe.”

  He ground his teeth to keep from swearing. She might say she wouldn’t have any regrets, but the more she built this illusion in her head, the harder she was going to fall when it was over.

  And the more she acted this way, the more he might start to wish it could be real…

  Dammit, he didn’t have time to deal with Glenna and her tangled emotions now. He’d leave that to the army shrinks.

  The six minutes were up. He pushed to his feet. At the change of position, the woundthigh throbbed suddenly, a reminder of the infection that was continuing to get worse. He took long, slow breaths until he brought the pain under control, then moved to the door.

  It was quiet on the other side. He didn’t hear any conversation, but he didn’t hear snores, either. He couldn’t assume this was going to be easy.

  He ran his palm down the door until he came to the lock. It was a run-of-the-mill hardware store dead bolt, keyed on both sides. Not much of a challenge if he had the right tools, but he hadn’t found anything useful on his previous survey of the storeroom.

  He sensed Glenna’s presence behind him even before he caught a whiff of her perfume and felt the warmth that came from her body. Her voice was no more than a whisper in his ear. “What’s the plan?”

  His pulse thudded at the tickle of her breath. That bothered him. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, he reminded himself. “We’re going to use the element of surprise. When I give you the word, start screaming.”

  “Why?”

  “Say you saw a mouse. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

  “No, I mean why do you want me to scream?”

  “Distract the guards. Get them to open the door so I can jump them.”

  “Wouldn’t they be expecting that?”

  “I’ll move fast. I’ll make sure they don’t hurt you.”

  “It would be easier to pick the lock and open the door ourselves, wouldn’t it?”

  “Sure, if I had the tools, but—”

  “What about some hairpins?”

  He twisted to face her, lifting his hands to her hair. “Do you have some? I didn’t feel any when I…” When I kissed you, when I ran my fingers through your hair as I wanted to do from the moment I saw you… He dropped his hands. It was over. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place. He couldn’t afford to think about it. “I didn’t feel any an hour ago.”

  “I lost most of them on the trip here. I took the rest out before you regained consciousness because my hair was such a mess….” She drew in her breath unsteadily. “What a stupid thing to have worried about.” She caught his hand and tugged him forward. “Help me look. They should still be on the floor somewhere.”

  Both guards were leaning back in their chairs, the olive-green caps they wore shading their eyes from the bare lightbulb that hung from the corridor ceiling. As soon as the door cracked open, the closest man jumped to his feet and swung his gun toward them.

  Rafe was on him before he could pull the trigger. He knocked the gun aside and drove his stiffened fingers into the man’s solar plexus as the second guard was getting to his feet. As the first man toppled, Rafe spun around and struck a swift blow to the side of the second man’s neck. Within seconds, both guards were sprawled unconscious on the floor.

  Glenna blinked at the en ferocity of Rafe’s movements, then hobbled toward him when he gestured her forward. Maybe escape wouldn’t be as impossible as she’d feared. Now that they’d gotten past these guards—

  Instead of going by, though, Rafe was leaning over the fallen men.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, grasping the back of one of the empty chairs for balance. “They’re out cold, aren’t they?”

  “Buying us some time,” he said. He reached for the man’s belt and yanked it off.

  “What?”

  He gestured to the unconscious man in front of her. “I’d prefer not to kill them, so I want to tie them up and gag them to keep them from raising the alarm when they come to. You can help by taking off his belt.”

  It made sense. She should have thought of it herself, but she didn’t have any experience in matters like these. No, arranging a fund-raising banquet or coordinating a conference didn’t have much to do with the skills involved in breaking out of a drug lord’s basement prison…

  She focused on Rafe and somehow managed to tamp down the bubble of rising panic. He was moving swiftly and purposefully as he bound one guard’s hands behind his back with his belt. He emptied the man’s pockets, coming up with a lighter, a small ring of keys and a folding knife. After he crumpled the man’s cap into a rough ball and wedged it into his mouth, he fastened the gag in place with one of the guard’s boot laces, then grasped him under his arms and dragged him into the storeroom.

  Glenna bent over and reached for the remaining guard’s belt buckle. It was a challenge to open because her fingers were shaking. But she couldn’t fall apart. She would think of Rafe. He had promised he’d get them out of here. She believed him. He wasn’t like the other men she’d known. They had a bond…

  I’d prefer not to kill them.

  That’s what he’d said. That meant he would have killed them if he’d had to. Of course. He was a soldier. That’s what soldiers did.

  But his touch had been so tender, and he’d given her what she’d needed and held her while she’d slept and—

  Oh, God, she couldn’t think of that now. If she did, she’d be no help to either of them. She pulled the belt free from the belt loops just as Rafe returned.

  He bound and gagged the guard the same way as the other one and dragged him into the storeroom. When he reappeared, he was carrying a pair of boots and the guard’s clothing. “I left the laces in these ones. Take them,” he said, holding them out to her.

  “Why?”

  He dumped them into her ar
ms and stooped over to pick up the guards’ discarded rifles. “You don’t have shoes and that skimpy top and skirt you’re wearing aren’t practical for jungle survival.”

  She juggled the bundle of clothing and grasped the boots before they could fall to the floor. “Jungle…”

  “We need to cover every contingency. We’re not in New York, princess.” took the ammunition clip from one of the rifles and tucked it into another pocket on his jumpsuit. He slung the other rifle over his shoulder, slipped his arm around her waist and guided her down the corridor. “You can change later,” he said. “The first priority is getting us out of here.”

  His tone was curt, his grip on her waist firm, yet he did his best to take most of her weight as they moved. She realized she had to be a burden to him. He had to be aware that he could probably get away faster without her. She stole a glance at his face.

  Because of the wound in his left leg, he held her on his right side, just as he’d done when they’d been taken to meet Juarez. Glenna had a good view of his scars, but she still couldn’t see any ugliness. She saw his strength and his concern for her.

  They reached the place where the corridor branched into three without encountering anyone. The corridor on the right led into the main part of the house. Rafe stopped and tilted his head to listen.

  Glenna thought she heard footsteps until she realized it was the pounding of her pulse. She bit her lip and tried not to give in to the urge to run back.

  He lowered his lips to her ear. “When they brought us here after they caught up to us at the airport, which way did they come?”

  “From the left, I think.”

  “Were there many twists? Changes in direction?”

  “I don’t…” She swallowed hard and clutched her bundle of clothing to her chest. The image of Rafe’s limp body being dragged by two of Juarez’s henchmen rose without warning. Oh, God. She’d blocked that out. They’d been so rough. “Yes. Quite a few. It was awful. They kept bumping you into the corners and—”

  “What else did you see? Any doors?”

  “I saw a big room that looked like a lab.”

  “What about the exit? How far is it?”