She leaned forward, pulled his head down to hers and kissed him. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “That must have been hard.”
“I’m handling it,” he said. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you. Tell me about your day, babe.”
Mr. Super Cool to the last. She rubbed his hand against her cheek. “Well, one good thing is that I finally got in touch with Josh.”
“That’s good news. Where was he?”
“Shacked up,” she said ruefully. “With this beautiful girl named Nadia. He wants to move in with her. I have my doubts, but whatever. He’ll have to figure it out the hard way. That’s why he didn’t call. He’s been rolling around in bed for the past thirty-six hours.”
“Lucky boy,” he said. “Anything from your sister?”
“Not yet,” she said glumly. “In fact, Joshie and I are driving down to Olympia this afternoon to look for her.”
“Are you now.” His voice was cool, strangely distant.
It made her feel flustered. “Um, you could come with us, if you like,” she said. “But I assumed…you would probably want to concentrate on whatever’s happening up here. Your investigation and all. Since I’ll be with my brother, of course. I won’t be all alone.”
“Is that what you assumed?” He stroked the palm of her hand with his forefinger, without meeting her eyes. “So you talked to your brother on the phone. What else did you do? Give me a blow by blow.”
“Well, I went to my apartment. Oh, yes, and I wanted to tell you about this—I guess they, uh…they’ve found me.”
“What?” His eyes fastened onto hers, suddenly intent. “What do you mean, found you?”
“I found a video camera,” she confessed. “On the shelf. Behind the stuffed animals.” She braced herself for an explosion.
It didn’t come. He just stared at her, his eyes thoughtful and shuttered. “No shit,” he said softly. “A vid cam. How about that.”
“I was really careful afterwards to make sure I wasn’t being followed,” she offered. “And when I was at the rental place, I think I lost anyone who might have been tailing me when I got the cab.”
“Good thinking,” he said. “You’re getting slick at this stuff, Becca.”
God, his voice was so bland. So unemotional. It was unnerving.
She struggled to gather her thoughts. They were getting scrambled by a strange, staticky buzz of interference from him.
“That’s why I’ve been so freaked out about Carrie,” she confessed. “If they know where I live, then Zhoglo knows about Carrie too.”
“Don’t panic about Carrie yet,” he said. “What else did you do?”
She’d been internally debating the wisdom of confessing to her Gavin Street detour, since it hadn’t been on the trajectory she’d originally laid out to him. In his current mood, she was less and less inclined to do so. She was jittery, nervous, tearful. She did not want to be yelled at or harangued. And what did it matter, if that conversation with Josh took place on the phone in the cab, or in person?
“I think I’ve covered it all,” she said. “Bank machine, apartment, rental car place. Then I came back here.”
“That’s it?” He stared straight ahead.
“Uh, yeah,” she said.
He looked away from her, as if the blackout curtains over the window had suddenly taken on some deep significance. “I see.”
She felt so alone all of a sudden. Bereft. Which was silly. He was just depressed and stressed-out, and no wonder, for God’s sake. She should try not to be clingy and demanding. It was the kiss of death.
Still. It made her ache.
But she knew a quick, surefire way to find him again, and she had the time, before Joshie picked her up. She got off the bed, and slid her arms around his head. “Nick?” she asked gently. “Where are you?”
He looked up at her. “Nowhere,” he said.
She stripped off her clingy blue microfiber tee in one sinuous move, and cradled his face against her cleavage. “I know of a nicer place that you could be,” she murmured.
“Oh, yeah? Do you?” His voice was faintly challenging. “Show me.”
She smiled at him and unhooked her bra. She was getting more sexually confident every day that passed, and that big bulge in his jeans encouraged her. She unbuttoned her jeans, kicked them away.
Nick put his hands on her hips, and stripped the panties down, with a hard, impatient jerk. She heard a rip, felt a seam give way.
Whatever. Ripped underwear was a small price to pay for what he was always willing to deliver. She let the savaged garment fall, and lifted her ankles out of it delicately. Stood before him naked.
He nuzzled her breasts, eyes shut tight, mouthing her nipples, suckling her. Using his swirling, rasping tongue to make her shiver with anticipation. Then he got up and yanked off the fleece polo he wore. He opened his pants, and let his erect cock spring free.
He looked at her expectantly, dragging his hand slowly up and down the veined shaft. Gave her a what-are-you-waiting-for jerk of his stubbly chin. Uppity bastard. She was spoiling him rotten, if he was starting to take this sex slave business for granted.
It pissed her off, but as always, her emotions for him were a volatile, dangerous mix. Everything about him stirred and heightened her, even when he was arrogant.
But now was definitely not the time to scold him for it.
She sank to her knees and took him into her mouth, using all of her newfound skill on him. He went rigid, his fingers digging painfully into her hair. She could hear his rough, ragged breathing.
All the other times she had gone down on him, he’d melted for her, shivering and pleading. Vulnerable. This time he didn’t. He turned his face up, eyes closed, gripping her hair, guiding her head to show her how he wanted her to take him. How deep, how fast. It was much harder this way, to breathe, not to gag on his thick, broad member, not to get tired. He didn’t make a sound, didn’t look at her.
What was with him? She pulled away from his hands, alarmed as well as angry, and struggled to her feet. “Nick, I’m not—”
“Shhh.” He spun her around, and pushed her down onto the bed, hard. She tumbled onto her hands and knees. He gripped her hips. “Let’s try something different,” he said, nudging himself into her hot cleft. “Let’s try it with no talk. No sound track, for once. Let’s just fuck.”
She gasped, at his first hard, penetrating shove. She wasn’t wet enough yet. “I like the way we do it,” she said shakily. “I like the talk.”
“I don’t, right now. I’m not in the mood.”
“But I—”
“Shhh.” He actually had the nerve to put his hand over her mouth, the bastard, but when she reached up to paw it away, that left only one arm holding her up, and she sprawled onto her chest, bed bouncing, his hot, smothering weight on top of her, his thick phallus prodding deeper. He slid his hand around her hip, threaded his fingers down into the curls that covered her labia. Caught her clit tenderly in the vee of his index and middle finger.
She struggled against his muffling hands, fighting against the confinement as well as the pleasure that he drew from her unwilling body. His skill was unerring: that urgent pump and squeeze in perfect time with the deep plunge and glide of his rigid shaft.
The climax wrenched through her, long and jolting and almost painful. She flushed for shame in the glowing aftermath. What kind of head case was she, to get off like this on his freaky games?
Her body was in thrall to him. It was unbearable.
He took his hand from her mouth to jerk her hips higher, and she twisted to look at him. “Stop this,” she said. “Get off me.”
“I want to make you come with my cock first,” was his flat reply, and she started to say something sharp, but her words snarled up into a shocked, whimpering gasp as he abruptly deepened his strokes.
The orgasm had made her slicker and softer, and his sensual, rocking thrust-and-swirl technique whipped up the hot, frothy sweetness inside her till it
rose up, cresting.
She couldn’t handle it. She couldn’t be catapulted all alone over the edge of the world. She needed him to go with her. Be one with her.
“Let me turn around,” she pleaded. “Hold me. Please, Nick.”
“No. Come for me,” he demanded. “Right now. Show me what you can do, Becca. Display your very special talents for me. Right…now.”
That final jarring thrust and stroke carried her away. Throbbing heat rolled over her. Oblivion. She pitched, all alone, in the blackness.
When her eyes fluttered open, her face was shoved into the pillow. She was weeping. Nick was poised over her, utterly motionless, his cock still throbbing against the mouth of her womb.
“You are amazing,” he whispered. “How the fuck do you do that?”
“It’s you who does it to me,” she forced out, through trembling lips and chattering teeth. “You know that.”
“Oh, no, babe,” he said. “I think you can take credit for this all by yourself.” He gripped her hips, to hold her in place. “I need to finish.”
She braced herself as his deep thrusts met her most sensitive flesh. He went rigid when he finally came, hips pumping against her painfully hard, in absolute silence.
He rolled off her, got to his feet, and fastened his jeans. No lingering, no cuddling. Not that she was surprised. She rolled onto her side, feeling bruised and used in every way. She curled into a ball and covered her face, trying at least to keep the tears silent.
The sadness was huge. She’d felt it before. Something was slipping away from her, something beautiful and ineffable. No clinging or pleading could hold it. The way Mom had slipped away.
There was a hole that could not be patched, and all the joy was draining away into it. All wasted, all lost, all gone.
It broke her heart. Made her so goddamn furious. So desperate.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nick demanded gruffly.
“Shut up,” she whispered. “You don’t want to know.”
He grunted expressively. “Probably not.”
She dragged herself up till she sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him. She felt heavy, exhausted. Stupid, too, for bringing this down on herself. She knew exactly how unpredictable he could be.
This was the last time she would ever try using sex to sweeten him up. It had blown up in her face like a grenade. She had no way to distance herself from him, and she could not bear his dark moods when they were channeled into the intense, driving intimacy of sex.
Her cell phone began to ring. She turned her head, tried to get up, but she felt too lethargic to move fast. Nick fished it out of the outer pocket of her purse, and wordlessly handed it to her.
She leaped to her feet, mood soaring skyward when she saw the display. Carrie. Oh, thank God, thank God. She hit talk.
“Carrie, am I ever glad you finally—”
“No, my dear. No, it is not Carrie.”
That oozing, faintly accented voice made her sink right back down onto the bed, suddenly boneless and cold. “Who is this?” she whispered.
“You know very well who this is.” The caller chuckled, pleased with himself.
“Zhoglo?” she whispered.
Nick went motionless, eyes wide.
“No names, for now, my dear. Are you alone?”
“What does that matter?” she asked, inanely.
“Because my message is for you alone. Not for your lover.”
“Why do you have Carrie’s phone?” she demanded.
“Why do you think?” His voice sounded almost pitying. “One moment. I will remove the gag just long enough for you to speak with your little sister. Excuse me…just a moment…” The phone was quiet for a second, and Becca heard a muffled, dry cough and a choking sound. A small voice said, “Becky?”
Cold faintness threatened her. The icy pit yawned inside her. Carrie had not called her older sister Becky since she was a tiny girl, four years old maybe. Tears sprang to her eyes, spilled out. She wasn’t big enough to contain this fear. It would shake her to pieces.
“Carrie? Baby? Are you OK?” she quavered.
“Becky?” the little voice croaked. “Becky? Please, I want to go home—”
The voice went away. Zhoglo returned. “That will do for now. Lovely creature, your sister. She’s been my guest for two days now. I confess, I’m getting fond of her. Your brother, too. Fine young man.”
“Josh? How…but he was just…I just—”
“Don’t waste time trying to find them in the house you visited today,” he told her. “They have already been moved to another location.”
She had to concentrate to get the words out of her shaking mouth. “What d-d-do you want?”
“I want Solokov,” Zhoglo said. “Your lover. Whatever his real name is. You need not say anything right now, of course. I know he must be with you. Just listen. If you wish to have your brother and sister back, you must think of a way to bring Solokov to a certain location, which I will communicate to you in our next conversation. When I have him, I will give you your family back, and you will all be free to go, back to your normal lives.”
“But I—”
“But if you do not succeed in bringing Solokov to me at the appointed place and time, you will receive a DVD in the mail, the contents of which will be most upsetting to you. I will use just one of them, for now. I will flip a coin to choose either your brother or your sister to star in it. I need not elaborate, no?”
“N-n-no,” she croaked. “Please, don’t.”
“Then, after you see this DVD, we will renegotiate,” Zhoglo said complacently. “Do we understand each other, my dear?”
It took several tries to get the word out. “Yes,” she said.
“Very well. I look forward to speaking with you again. Until then, my lovely Rebecca.”
Click. The line went dead.
The phone dropped from her numb hand, bounced on the carpet. Becca slid off the bed, down onto her knees, and curled around that awful hole of pure terror. Her entire body stuttered with fear.
She felt Nick’s big warm hands gripping her shoulders. “Becca?” he asked cautiously. “What’s up? Talk to me, babe.”
“He has Carrie and Josh,” she blurted out.
“Yeah?” He slid his hands under her armpits and lifted her up, setting her gently on the edge of the bed. She doubled over again, unable to bear the sucker-punch agony in her middle. “What does he want?”
Becca’s eyes overflowed with tears as she looked at him. It was the moment of truth. She could not betray him and deliver him up to Zhoglo. That was simply not an option. She didn’t have it in her.
The instant she told him, the instant she made that move and put Nick on his guard, Carrie and Josh would be lost forever.
So was she. Worse than lost. She was damned to hell for all time.
Nick shook her shoulders. “What does he want, Becca?”
Her lips formed the word, but could get only the faintest puff of air behind it to turn it into a tiny whisper. “You.”
Chapter
28
Wow. Amazing performance. He watched her weep and carry on with all his senses wide open, feeling for the vibe behind the vibe behind the vibe, and it rang perfectly true. She was a world class actress.
Or maybe she was just nuts. Maybe she’d psyched herself into believing the tales she told. That was how it worked under deep cover. Who knew better than him? You pumped the false persona full of life and juice and detail and emotion. Until it lived and breathed. It made you half-crazy, yes, but he’d been more than half-crazy to begin with.
There might even be a part of Becca’s splintered brain that sincerely believed that she loved him. Every instinct told him she was for real. That her evident distress for this sister and brother was real.
If only he hadn’t seen that footage.
Christ, he wished he could throw it in her face and examine how she reacted, but Davy and the rest were right. He’d lose every p
ossible advantage the situation might give him, for the sake of a stupid, desperate hope. He would not permit himself to do that. No.
“He wants me?” he asked quietly. “Tell me.”
She mopped her face with a trembling hand. “I’m supposed to lure you into a trap, for him. When they have you, he says he’ll—he’ll give Carrie and Josh back to me. And if not…” She was gasping for air.
“Don’t tell me what happens if not,” he said. “I’ve seen it.”
Strange twist. He pondered it. Why alert him to the trap? She might have sensed that he smelled a rat. Maybe this was a salvage job. She was smart enough, intuitive enough. Games within games within games. It tied his brain in knots. This chick was seriously complicated.
“Where’s the trap?” he asked. “When’s the meeting?”
She shook her head “He’ll call with that info later,” she whispered.
He hesitated for a moment. “Why’d you tell me, babe?”
She looked up at him, wet-eyed, utterly bewildered. “Come again?”
“Why tell me about the trap?” he repeated. “Why not just do the trade?”
Her back straightened. She wiped her eyes. “You son of a bitch. How dare you say that. If you have to ask me that question, then you don’t deserve a goddamn answer!”
He shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. I just figured, hey, your first responsibility is to Carrie and Josh, right? Goes without saying.”
“And you think I’d be capable of doing that? Of turning you over to that monster after what you did for me? I love you, you stupid jackass!”
He thought about how he’d felt, staring at the blank façade of that town house today. “And what about Carrie and Josh?”
Her face crumpled. She sagged into herself.
Huh. He was not sure what, if anything, he’d learned from this touching melodrama, other than the fact that her performance remained watertight. The backstory was so believable. The dinky apartment, authentic-looking photos of the little brother and sister. That fucking phone call from Josh, at just the right moment—how the hell had she organized that? She must have had visual monitoring already in place. She must have been so sure Nick’d crawl back, begging for more, after the island. He didn’t blame her. He’d have been sure too, if he were her.
Extreme Danger Page 39
