by Cindy Dees
He reached for the bottom rung of the ladder. One more sweep of the camera directly over his head and all the lenses would be aligned away from the balcony. Five…four…three…
He dived flat as lights abruptly illuminated overhead and voices called from inside Cari’s room.
Her absence from the meeting must have been noted and someone had gone looking for her. Obviously, she hadn’t made it back to her room before someone—it sounded like Rico—knocked on her door and got no answer.
He gave the ladder a yank. Hooked solid. It wasn’t coming down off that balustrade anytime soon. The evidence of their little outing would be discovered in a few seconds.
Maybe he could draw them off. Make them think Cari had nothing to do with all this. He would take the fall, but maybe she would live. And just maybe the Blackjacks could find another way to get her to safety.
His death was so going to suck. He had confidence that Eduardo’s thugs would torture him within an inch of his life before they finally killed him.
Crap. He had to ditch the camera, too. Maybe Cari would find it later and get the pictures out to Colonel Foley somehow. He scrabbled with his fingernails in the mulch and soft earth around the base of the landscaping, burying the camera beneath a shallow layer of dirt and pine chips. He just prayed the waterproof case was truly waterproof.
Time to face the music. He pulled his knees under him and braced his hands in preparation for standing up and surrendering to whomever stuck a gun against the back of his head first. Any second now, someone would come tearing outside to see where the trail led away from the telltale ladder.
He shoved to a half crouch and prepared to stand up and show himself. Men were slamming around in the room above now, calling loudly to each other as they searched the space. It wasn’t like there were a whole lot of possible hiding spots. The search would take them a matter of seconds and then they would burst out onto the balcony, find the ladder, and point their AK-47s down at him.
The French doors beside him at ground level burst open and he whirled reflexively, his hands reaching for the stars.
“Hurry!” Cari whispered frantically. “To the pool!”
The swimming pool? What in the world did she have in mind? He stared at her, stunned that she wasn’t Gunter or one of the others come to kill him.
“Come on. And strip while you’re at it!”
That jolted him into motion. “Say again?” he managed to say as he sprinted beside her toward the open space of the swimming pool.
Ahead of him, she fumbled with the knot at the back of her neck as she ran. The halter-top of her dress sagged and she paused by the pool just long enough to let the fine silk drop to the ground. All she had beneath it was a black thong. A flipping unbelievably skimpy black thong.
He gaped in amazement.
She reached for his pants and tore down the zipper. “We used the fire rescue ladder to sneak down here for a skinny dip. But you’ll have to be naked for them to believe it.”
And then it dawned on him what she was up to. She’d realized they had to have a cover story for the ladder and had come up with a brilliant one.
He tore off his shirt. Kicking off his sandals, he yanked his belt buckle free. She shoved his pants down around his knees while he staggered and managed to yank his foot clear of the pant leg. The French doors on her balcony burst open.
The men up there wouldn’t have night vision, having just come out of a brightly lit room. But their eyes would adapt in a few seconds.
Joe sat down on the edge of the pool, pulling Cari down beside him. He slipped carefully into the water, making as little noise as possible. Cari slipped in beside him.
“Can you get your shorts off?” she muttered.
“I dunno,” he mumbled back. “Spandex gets real clingy when it’s wet.” He peeled the fabric off his skin, treading water while he kicked the sports trunks free. He set them on the edge of the pool and gulped as Cari put a tiny scrap of black fabric beside them.
She grinned beside him. “Having fun yet?”
How in the bloody hell could she be so relaxed at a time like this? His nerves were balanced on a razor’s edge.
“That’s not the word I’d choose, no.”
“Welcome to my insane life,” she murmured.
Insane was also not the word he would choose. No one should have to live like a special forces operative in his or her own home, dodging death from one’s own father.
“For the record, this was pure genius.”
She smiled briefly, acknowledging the compliment. “C’mon,” she said. “We may as well get out in the middle of the pool so there’ll be no doubt as to what we’re up to when they turn on the underwater lights.”
He shoved off from the side. “Do me a favor. When the lights go on, move your arms around a lot and make a lot of waves.”
“Why?” she murmured as she commenced treading water with a slow, rhythmic motion of her limbs. Good idea. They would be able to keep that up for a while. Although he doubted they’d be out here more than a few more seconds by themselves.
He answered wryly, “That way, the surface of the water will be good and disturbed and nobody will be able to make out details below the waterline.”
“You’re worried about your modesty at a time like this?”
“Hell, no. I’m worried about yours!”
She was saved from having to reply by a phalanx of armed men bursting into the backyard, followed by a blinding flash of light as the house’s exterior floodlights were thrown on. The entire yard was lit up nearly as bright as day.
“Hell’s bells,” he complained loudly into the blackness beyond the spotlights. “Can’t a guy and his girl have a little privacy around here?”
Cari paddled over to where he treaded water and draped herself around his neck, giggling. “Poor baby. You’ve been trying all day to have your way with me and nothing’s working out! The goon squad keeps catching up with us.”
Gunter glared. Freddie and Neddie gaped. And Rico looked so mad his head could explode. Must have a crush on Cari or something.
“Uh-oh,” Cari mumbled against his neck. “Here comes trouble.”
Joe glanced up. And looked squarely at the tailored knees of Eduardo Ferrare’s suit. Trouble, indeed.
Chapter Eleven
Cari flinched as Eduardo bellowed, “What’s the meaning of this?”
“What’s the meaning of what?” she asked innocently. “You were busy with your meeting so we decided to take a swim.”
Rico growled, “With no clothes on.”
Jerk. She took Joe’s advice and moved her arms vigorously, stirring up the surface of the water as much as possible. And, sure enough, the underwater spotlights popped on just then and the pool lit up like a brilliant blue topaz. It was acutely uncomfortable having a half dozen of her father’s armed guards standing around, staring down at the two of them like goldfish in a bowl.
Joe groused, “What do we have to do to keep the whole freaking student body from crashing the party?”
“Stay in your room,” Eduardo snapped.
“Yeah, well that’s hard to do when my wife’s father is ordering her to go to his business meetings to serve drinks,” Joe snapped back.
Cari froze. Nobody talked to her father like that.
“Jeez, dude,” Joe complained, “if you needed me to spot you a little cash to hire a waiter, all you had to do was ask. I mean, we’re family now. I’d have helped you out.”
Cari inhaled and got a mouthful of water instead. She coughed and sputtered and Joe was there instantly, his strong arms around her and his incredibly powerful kicks supporting the two of them easily.
And then the rest of it registered. Joe’s body—all of it— was plastered against hers. He was warm and hard in the cool water, as lithe and muscular as a dolphin. What little breath she had whooshed out of her at the feel of him. She would love nothing more than to lose herself in the sensations bombarding her from head to toe.
She glanced up at him and their gazes locked in mutual shock. He was as aware of her as she was of him!
For an instant, the rest of the world disappeared and it was just the two of them, floating weightless as one. This was exactly how it would be when they made love. They would create a world all their own where nothing and no one could come between them. She would be safe and loved and would joyfully give every bit of herself, body and soul, to him.
Then Eduardo snapped, “Enough shillyshallying around. Out of the water, you two.”
The spell was broken. She closed her eyes briefly as the pain of what could have been speared through her.
And then something equally delightful—not—occurred to her. She was going to have to climb out of the swimming pool, naked, in front of a crowd that had now swelled to over a dozen men. It would put the cherry on top of a totally humiliating evening. First, that pervert sticking his fingers where he had no right to put them, and now this.
She had no doubt Eduardo knew exactly how embarrassing this would be for her. And he didn’t care one bit. It was all about power. Control. Having the ability to order people to do things that were odious to them.
With a sigh, she gathered herself to head for the side of the pool. It was no use fighting her father. But Joe’s arms, which were loosely circling her, tightened, stopping her.
“Hey, Mr. F. Tell me something,” Joe asked casually. “Did you ever change Cari’s diapers when she was a baby?”
What was he up to now?
Eduardo’s gaze snapped to Joe. “I beg your pardon?”
“You know, diapers. Nappies. Those cloth things you wrap around babies’ butts to catch the mess.”
“I know what diapers are,” Eduardo snapped. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, the way I see it, if you changed Cari’s diapers on a regular basis when she was a baby, you can probably make a decent argument for having a right to look at her rear end now. But if you weren’t a diaper kind of guy—and I have to say, Ed, you don’t strike me as the butt-wiping type—then I don’t think you have any business telling your daughter to get out of the pool and parade around in her birthday suit in front of you and your men.”
“I have every right!” Eduardo bellowed.
“No kidding?” Joe exclaimed. “I figured you wrong, man. You came across to me as big-time diaper-challenged. How old was Cari when she finally got potty-trained, anyway?”
“I wouldn’t have the slightest idea,” Eduardo half shouted. “And I didn’t change diapers!” he added forcefully. This last statement was blasted in the general direction of his men.
Joe tsk-tsked. “Big mistake, man. I’ve heard experts say it’s really important for fathers to do some of that day-to-day care-for-their-kids stuff. Helps them, like, bond, you know? I figure it helps keep the mommies from going homicidal on the daddies, too.”
Eduardo stared down at them, as flummoxed as usual by Joe’s rambling conversational style, which always seemed to end up someplace outrageous.
Personally, she was so entertained that laughter threatened to erupt from her…which would be a bad idea, given the thunder gathering on her father’s brow.
But Joe powered ahead, apparently oblivious to how annoyed her father was. “I thought maybe since her mother died when she was little, you might’ve pitched in with the whole diaper bit. How did your mother die, anyway, Cari?”
She blinked, startled at the abrupt change of topic and even more startled to be brought into this strange discussion. “Uh, she died of a broken neck,” she answered cautiously. This was traditionally a taboo subject in Eduardo’s household. Her mother’s name was never mentioned, let alone the manner of her death.
“A broken neck? Wow. That sucks. How’d that happen?” Joe looked around expectantly, first at her and then up at Eduardo. Yikes. No way would her father care to have that particular bit of dirty laundry aired in front of this madman in their midst.
On cue, her father blustered, “Somebody, go get a couple of towels, for God’s sake.”
As one of the thugs trotted off to play fetch, Joe called after him loudly, “And bring us some bathing suits, too!” Joe continued slightly more quietly to her father, “I’m going to assume Cari is finished with your meeting for the evening, and I’m not letting my wife flash anything at your men when she climbs out of the pool. Then we are retiring to our room, and I trust we won’t be disturbed again. I’m sure Cari represented you well this evening as your daughter. But for the rest of the night, she’s my wife.”
Eduardo scowled, unsure of how this situation had spun so completely out of his control. He pivoted on his expensively clad heel and stomped inside, leaving her and Joe to the tender mercies of Gunter and crew.
While they all waited for towels and swimsuits to arrive, awkward silence fell. Joe’s hand on the small of her back strayed lower, his fingers grazing the crevice defining the terminus of her spine. She gasped, startled. Whoa. Heretofore undiscovered erogenous-zone alert! And then his hand cupped her derriere gently, possessively, almost as if he were marking the spot as his and his alone. She exhaled softly, melting closer against him.
It was all a matter of intent. How Joe managed to convey such respect while cupping her behind, she had no idea, but there wasn’t the slightest doubt in her mind that he would never take advantage of her. In a strange way, his gentle caress wiped away the Slav’s grope, sanctifying her, making everything okay again. She looked through her lashes at Joe, grateful yet again for his unfailing consideration of her.
He smiled down at her apologetically.
He had nothing to apologize for. He was a Gentleman— with a capital G. It was an honor to be the object of his respect and caring. She didn’t deserve him. Once this whole mess was over, she would give anything to be able to stay with him, to be his wife or, at least, his girlfriend in reality. But of course, he would never look twice at her. She was a Ferrare, and that name was poison to the Blackjacks.
Every now and then, she caught a glimpse of just how much Joe despised Eduardo and everything he stood for. Surely, he couldn’t help but see her as an extension of her father. God. Why, oh why, did she have to be Eduardo Ferrare’s daughter?
She reached up with one hand and laid her palm on his cheek. “You’re such a good man,” she murmured.
He snorted. “You’ve said that before. You must know that I’m a lot of things, but good definitely isn’t one of them.”
“Then you’re not looking at yourself through my eyes,” she replied with conviction. “From my point of view, you’re practically saint material.”
He blinked at her, looking nearly as flummoxed as her father had just been. “You’re looking through rose-colored glasses, princess. Seeing what you want to see.”
“Then here’s to wearing those suckers forever,” she said.
“I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you,” he muttered back.
She’d just opened her mouth to deny the truth of his statement when Gunter spoke from beside the pool. “In answer to your earlier question, Mr. Smith, Cari was potty-trained for daytime when she was two-and-a-half years old and fully trained by her third birthday.”
Cari looked up at him, surprised. “How in the world do you know that?”
He gazed down at her, the expression in his eyes as close to human as any she’d ever seen. An infinitesimal smile cracked his lips. And then he shrugged, turning away.
“Son of a gun,” Joe breathed in her ear. “Who’d have guessed? Big G has a heart.”
Shock rendered her unable to reply. Gunter? He cared enough for her to remember details like that? But as she thought back over the years, he did, indeed, treat her like his own daughter. Who’d have guessed, indeed?
Joe interrupted her stunned train of thought, murmuring in her ear, “You are one truly incredible lady. Spine of steel.”
“Who, me?” she blinked.
“Yeah, you. I’ve never seen anyone who can take a punch like
you can. You roll with it and just get back on your feet and press on. You’re amazing.”
Her cheeks felt hot. Nobody had ever said anything remotely like that to her before. Ever. When he put it like that, she suddenly did feel a little stronger. Maybe not exactly in charge of herself and her life, but not a total loser. And wasn’t that a change from the status quo?
She glanced up at him. There it was again. That sense of shared, intimate understanding of one another. It was like having their own secret garden to retreat to in the midst of everyone else around them.
Finally, the towels and bathing suits arrived. She snagged the white one-piece suit that got tossed out to her and shimmied into it while she treaded water. It was a trick to do without drowning herself. Joe pulled on a pair of baggy surfing shorts beside her and then helped her untwist the straps across her back.
Although their entire swim probably took less than ten minutes, it felt like she’d been in this water for an eternity. It was so nice to finally climb out of the pool—clothed. Gunter held a big beach towel out to her and she smiled shyly at him. He ducked his head, embarrassed, and looked away as she took the big cloth and wrapped it around herself.
Tucking in the free end over her chest, she murmured, “Thanks, Gunter. You’re the best.”
He nodded and turned away without making eye contact with her. Well, weren’t the macho images just toppling left and right tonight?
“Let’s go, princess. I swear, when we get to our room, I’m locking the door and not letting anyone in for a week!”
“Sounds like a great plan to me,” she agreed as Joe looped his arm around her shoulders.
They didn’t see her father on the way upstairs. No doubt, he was busy pondering his lack of bonding with his daughters because of his failure to wipe their bottoms as babies. She bit back a grin. Where did Joe come up with that stuff?
Never in her entire life had she seen anyone manage to turn Eduardo inside out and tie him in knots like Joe did. It was a gift.
