Darling Deceiver

by Daphne Clair

  `That's what I intend to find out,' he said. He moved towards her and she instinctively backed from him until she came up against the table at the side of the bed.

  He stood in front of her, not touching her, but his very size and the cold anger she saw in his eyes was intimidating. Was it money?' he demanded. 'Or some kind of revenge? Do you hate me enough to want me dead, Carissa?'

  'No!' Fear making her lash out with any weapon she could find, she said fiercely, 'You're paranoid! I don't hate you!'

  His voice was so low it was almost a caress as he said, his eyes narrowing, dropping over her taut body, 'Don't you? Would you like to prove that?'

  Her quick, choked, 'No!' was cut off in her throat as hands closed on her shoulders and jerked her against his hard chest, and his mouth closed mercilessly on hers, giving her no chance to either respond or resist.

  When he lifted his head at last, she ran her tongue over bruised lips and turned her 'head aside. His hands still gripped her shoulders, hurting them, and she whispered, white-faced, 'Please let me go.'

  He released her and stepped back with a hard laugh. 'You can't take its can you? Being kissed by the man you set up for a killer.'

  'I didn't set you up,' she said wearily. 'But it's true I can't stand to be touched by a man who thinks I did.'

  He looked at her narrowly, and for a moment she had a faint hope that he might believe in her innocence. Then he swung away from her to the chair by the window. 'You have the bed,' he said. 'I'll sit here.

  She hesitated, then slipped off her shoes and lay down on the bed. For a time she lay gazing at the ceiling. Then she said, 'If you think I'm—in some fantastic plot against you, why didn't you tell the policeman?'

  'I have my reasons,' he said after a moment. 'Besides, I've no proof yet.'

  'You're doing a lot of judging without proof, tlien,' she said bitterly.

  'I haven't judged you yet,' he said. 'I'm just taking precautions--on a reasonable suspicion.'

  'That's a matter of opinion.'

  'A matter of life and death—mine.

  'Why does Gomez want to kill you?' she asked.

  When he didn't answer, she went on, half nervous of him, half angry and intending to goad, 'It's a woman, isn't it? He wants to kill you because of a woman.'

  'Sure,' his voice was closer, and she turned her head to see him coming to stand by the bed, looking down at her face against the pillow. 'Didn't he tell you?'

  'Tell me what?'

  He looked down at her, his face harsh and mocking, shadowed by the pool of light from the bedside lamp. 'That I seduced his wife,' he said, 'and then killed her.'

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HER body seemed to grow cold as she stared at him, trying to read the truth behind the bitterness in his face.

  'Are you admitting it?' she asked, finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

  'God, no ! ' he said. 'I learned when I cut my eye teeth never to admit to anything.'

  'I don't believe it,' she said flatly.

  For a moment she thought surprise flared into his eyes. Then he said mockingly, 'Sweet of you. And in return I'm supposed to say I believe you when you say you don't know Gomez, right? Sorry, sweetheart, no deal.'

  Furiously, she sat up and swung her legs to the floor, standing up to face him. 'You can't trust anyone, can you? You're so warped and twisted you don't believe in any sort of sincerity at all. I'm sorry for you, Cade! You may have talent and money and success, but you'll never have any of the things that really matter—love or friendship or trust—because you aren't capable of accepting them at their face value, you have to degrade everything with distrust and suspicion. You'll never have a worthwhile relationship with a woman-because you aren't capable of giving a woman what she needs! '

  She knew she had gone too far before he reached her, his eyes blazing fury as he pushed her down on the bed, hands as hard as steel on her -wrists as he pinioned them beside her head, holding her down-with his body as she struggled vainly against his angry strength.

  'You think a woman needs love?' he jeered. Well, maybe I can't give her that—but how's this for a substitute?'

  Carissa twisted her head to the side, trying to escape

  his implacable mouth, but he found her lips anyway. She stiffened, expecting a second assault like the kiss he had forced on her before. But this was different—so different. He touched the corner of her mouth gently with his, then slid his lips across hers, lightly teasing, caressing, until she made an agitated movement of denial. But he wouldn't allow it. His mouth closed fully over hers, and his hand left her wrist to tangle in her hair and turn her head, holding it so that she could not escape. Her free hand pushed against his shoulders in a futile, mute protest, and then fell away, the fingers clenched in a desperate effort to stop them from stroking his hair or caressing the powerful muscles of his shoulders.

  His other hand left hers and began a long, slow stroking movement down the length of her body, gently outlining the curve of her breast and hip, and his mouth continued its leisurely, seductive exploration of hers.

  `Kiss me back,' he murmured against its softness. 'Hold me, honey.'

  With an effort of will, she whispered, 'No,' and shook her head feebly, making a futile little effort to escape.

  He stopped her easily, sliding his arms about her so that hers were imprisoned, taking her mouth possessively again, with passion and a hint of punishment, unleashing a hard sensuality that overwhelmed her and set every inch of her body afire with desperate need. His hands slid under her loose cotton blouse and one spread against her back 'while the other cupped her breast, pressing against its softness with firm warmth that roused her to feverish desire, so that without thought her arms moved to hold him closer, to meld her body into the hard contours of his.

  His mouth left hers and moved, soft and warm, down the line of her throat, and his hand pushed aside her blouse—then she gasped a despairing protest as his

  mouth found the softness of her breast. It didn't move him, but a sharp tap on the door made them both tauten.

  Cade swore softly and lifted his head, and Carissa moved sharply, pulling her clothes about her, as Pat's voice called, 'Everything all right, Mr Franklin?'

  'Quite all right!' Cade answered sharply, rolling on to his back and watching with cynical eyes as Carissa, with flaming cheeks, fumbled at pushing her blouse back into place, and ran shaking fingers over her tumbled hair She wondered if the angels knew how they protected her.

  Pat's footsteps receded down the stair, and Cade's mouth twisted as Carissa made to get off the bed. 'Come here! ' he muttered, and pulled her down across him. She struggled and he rolled over until she was pinned beneath him again. His kiss on her lips was short and savage and contemptuous.

  `So I can't give you what you need?' he said derisively. 'Well, I sure as hell know how to give you what you want!'

  He suddenly twisted away from her and left her lying, humiliated and emotionally exhausted, on the bed alone.

  She had no answer for him, didn't want to look at him any more, it was too mortifying. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, wishing she could hide herself from him forever.

  From the window, he asked, 'Are you crying?' He sounded quite indifferent.

  'No,' she said. She was beyond that.

  She felt his presence by the bed, and without moving, she stiffened all over, every muscle contracting with tension, waiting. Then a blanket was pulled over her, adjusted round her shoulders, and Cade's voice, sounding strangely weary, said, `Go to sleep.

  After a time, amazingly, she did.

  Early in the morning Cade shook her awake. They were taken back to Auckland in a car driven by a policeman, with Carissa sitting beside him, and Cade in the back between two burly representatives of the law. Another police car preceded them, and Carissa looked out with weary eyes at the lush ferns and trees lining the road beside them as they made their way to the highway, and remembered the drive in the dark less than
three weeks ago, reflecting bitterly on the changes in her since then.

  Then, she had been nervous and worried, but reasonably confident in her ability to control her own emotions, to continue her full and interesting life after this slightly awkward interlude was over, and allow herself finally to forget the man who had shattered her young innocence so many years ago.

  Now she knew that his attraction for her was as strong as ever—stronger, in fact. Her emotions were more mature, her physical responses more insistent than they had been then. She had been living with Cade in conditions of some intimacy for the last few weeks, and she knew herself now reluctantly but irrevocably. in love with a man who admitted he didn't

  know how to love, who had no desire for any permanent, committed relationship with her or any woman.

  She hardly noticed when they turned on to the highway and the bush began to thin and give way to steep hill-country with a scattering of sheep grazing the short grass, and then more rolling, gentler pastures and dairy farms with neat milking sheds and herds of black and white Friesian cows.

  'Used to be all Jerseys, once,' the driver commented, breaking into Carissa's thoughts.

  'What?'

  'There used to be a lot of Jersey herds,' the man explained. 'Now it's mostly Friesians and these fancy new

  breeds. Thing is, the dairy factories don't want to much cream these days—they're making lots of skim milk products for the overseas markets.'

  'Oh, is that why?' she said vaguely. She caught Cade's eyes on her in the mirror, faintly sardonic, and made an effort to appear interested in the driver's conversation. She didn't want Cade to guess at the trend of her thoughts, and besides, she ought to make the effort to take her own mind off them.

  So for the rest of the journey she devoted herself to entertaining the man, encouraging him to talk about himself and making him feel that the things he told her were of consuming interest to her. She, learned about his childhood on a dairy farm, his parents who still worked the same farm, his ambition to join the police force and how he had realised it, and she laughed at his amusing stories of some of the episodes that punctuated a policeman's life.

  It was something she was good at, this drawing people out to talk about themselves, a skill she had cultivated and which was useful to her in her job.

  There was little conversation in the rear seat, she noticed, She was careful not to catch Cade's eye again.

  When they finally drew up outside Morris's flat, she lingered for a few seconds to say goodbye to the young drive while the other two men hurried with Cade still between them into the building.

  When she joined them, still with the traces of a smile on her lips, Cade cast her a hard glance before turning to Morris who was opening the door.

  With her head high, Carissa joined the men in the spacious lounge. Morris entertained a lot, and for a town house, the place was roomy.

  There was another man with Morris, who turned out to be another Inspector. Apparently there were plans to be made, more questions to be asked, things to be discussed. To Carissa, who had wondered at the wisdom

  of returning so ostentatiously escorted by police to Morris's place again, things began to fall into place. It seemed that they rather wanted Cade's pursuer to know where he was now. They hadn't found him at the lake, but a stolen car had crashed a police roadblock and been found abandoned further on down the road, and they rather thought the driver had managed to elude the police net and hitch a ride back to Auckland. A motorist had reported picking up a man answering to the description of Gomez. The idea now, she gathered, was to flush him out.

  'By setting Cade up as decoy?' she asked, trying to keep indignation out of her voice.

  Cade gave her another of his hard glances, and the Inspector said smoothly, 'He'll' be quite safe, Miss Martin. There'll be plenty of us around, but we'll let him think we're a little—careless, and hope to catch him more or less in the act.'

  '—Of killing Mr Fernand?' she asked.

  'Not quite, but so that we can get him for attempted murder, which means a long sentence. We have circumstantial evidence that he was present, yesterday, but no one saw him shooting, or a gun. By the way,' he turned to Cade, 'you'll be glad to know they've got the big boss and most of his henchmen in custody. And our information is that the boss wiped his hands of your man some time ago—so he's on his own now. Once we have him you needn't worry that they'll send someone else to complete the job.'

  'That's a relief,' said Cade, looking relaxed and lazy as he lounged in a chair. But his face was watchful and intelligent. 'Why did they dump Gomez?'

  'Apparently because when the man the brotherhood sent to Melbourne bungled the job, Gomez took off against orders to do it for himself. His boss was annoyed—he'd been counting on having him there for another little thing that they were trying to pull off.'

  The Inspector paused, then said, 'Our American colleagues hope that Gomez might be persuaded to give evidence against the others—he has some inside information that they'd be glad to get hold of.'

  `And that's another reason you want him to be up for a long sentence, isn't it?' Cade suggested. `So that he'll be frightened enough to squeal.

  The big policeman pursed his lips, raised his eyebrows, then laughed. 'We like to help when we can,' he said.

  Cade stood up suddenly and strolled to the long window, looking out into Morris's small walled patio. `Gomez had gone straight for ten years before the brotherhood approached him,' he said. 'Did you know that?'

  The policeman hesitated, then he asked, 'How do you know that? Just because he didn't have a conviction for ten years it doesn't necessarily mean

  'He was going straight,' Cade insisted. 'His wife told me. She also said that he turned them down. They were pressuring him to agree by threatening to hurt her and their child.'

  'Nasty methods,' the Inspector commented.

  `Did you know?' Cade asked.

  Well—no. But I understood his wife was dead. Wasn't that the reason that he wants to kill you? She —er--died in your car, didn't she?'

  `That's right. And Gomez joined the brotherhood afterwards, hoping they would help him eliminate me. His wife's death unbalanced him, Inspector.'

  `The 'circumstances were—unfortunate,' the other man admitted. 'But the man's a killer.'

  `In some countries it would be termed a crime of passion, and he'd get off lightly, even if he succeeded in killing me.'

  The Inspector smiled. 'You're not suggesting we should let him, are you, sir?'

  Wryly, Cade smiled. 'I have no desire to die. Nor much desire to exact vengeance. on a man who's already suffered considerably. I tried several times to contact Gomez, to talk to him, before I left the States. He talked to me, on the phone, but only to threaten me and tell me what he thought of me. He wouldn't listen to what I had to say. Well, if I see him face to face, perhaps he'll listen. I don't like your idea, Inspector. I want your men called off.'

  There was a surprised silence, then the Inspector said, 'Sorry, I can't do that. The man is wanted by the police both here and in the States.'

  'Okay, that's your business. But I want police protection withdrawn from me.'

  There was opposition from the police and from Morris, but Cade wore it down. He didn't want the police to protect him, and they could not force it.

  After a slightly disgruntled Inspector left, Morris said, `You can't stop them from watching the place from outside, you know.'

  'I know,' Cade agreed. 'But if they stop him before he comes in they don't get what they want—a would-be murderer caught red-handed. And if they let him through, I have a fighting chance of making him see sense. Either way, I'm not their tethered goat.'

  'Why bother?' Morris asked, a little plaintively.

  Deliberately, Cade flicked a lightning glance at Carissa, who had sat silently in one of Morris's deep leather chairs all through the preceding arguments. Then he said, 'For the sake of his wife.'

  Carissa spoke then. 'Salving your co
nscience, Cade?' 'Maybe.' His expression was enigmatic. 'I'll go to a hotel if you like, Morris.'

  'No, no, you're welcome to stay here. I'll—er—keep you company. Carrie can go back to her flat.

  'Carissa stays.'

  Morris looked startled. He glanced at Carissa, who tried to look blank.

  Cade said, 'You're both reasonably safe. Gomez isn't a professional killer, and if you keep out of the way he won't hurt you. It's me he wants.' He paused. 'I have no objection if you want to stick to your usual sleeping arrangements—I'm not easily shocked. But Carissa stays here.

  Morris, looking acutely uncomfortable, misinterpreted completely the pleading look that Carissa sent him. 'Carrie and I don't have that kind of arrangement,' he said. 'She'll have the spare room, and I'll toss you for the sofa.'

  Cade's eyebrows rose. 'What—never?' His eyes slid to Carissa.

  'Never.' Morris rose, glaring slightly, and said, 'I'll boil some water. It's the usual thing in a crisis, isn't it? Cup of tea, perhaps ...'

  Carissa met the mixture of amusement and speculation in Cade's eyes with a defiant stare of her own.

  'Never,' Cade repeated softly. 'Caught out again, my dear, deceiving little schemer! How well named you are.

  'Well, you jumped to conclusions,' she defended herself.

  'Which You fostered—I wonder why?'

  'I hoped it might keep you from pawing me! ' she said tensely.

  'Stop scratching, little cat. You'll get yourself in trouble.'

  'Oh, shut up!

  Who do you sleep with?'

  'No one!' she flashed, adding hastily, 'At the moment. Who do you sleep with? Other men's wives?'

  He tautened, but showed no other sign of anger. 'Not lately,' he drawled.

  'What was her name?' she asked recklessly.

  'Whose name?'

  `Gomez's wife!' she said. 'Or can't you remember?' 'Yes, I remember. Her name was Carlotta. Why does it interest you?'

  She shrugged. 'I'm interested in all kinds of things. It's part of my job. Small talk.'