The Lieutenant by Her Side

by Jean Thomas

  “Yes, I could do that.”

  “Or since my own room is much closer...”

  “Yes?”

  “Hey, I wouldn’t suggest something like showing your appreciation for a guy who’s served in a war zone on your behalf. I mean, that would be downright crummy.”

  She wondered how many other times he had used that innocent little stratagem to get a woman into his bed. She ought to thank him for it. It had the effect of snapping her out of the daze that had resulted from his kiss. She remembered now what she had to do and how to do it.

  “All right, soldier, suppose you show me the way to your room.”

  Once the door was shut behind them, Mark’s impatience left Clare time to briefly process only two things. She could hear the muted sound of the surf breaking on the shore somewhere beneath his windows. That was unimportant. The other mattered.

  She had managed back in New Orleans to pick up a brochure advertising the merits of the Pelican Hotel. Among its glossy photos was one that depicted a typical room in the hotel featuring an elaborate brass headboard. She was relieved now to see that Mark’s king-size bed was no exception. It boasted the brass headboard so critical to her plan.

  And that was all the opportunity she had before his arms folded around her again, drawing her up snugly against his tall, solid body. His mouth followed, angling across hers in a kiss so searing she could no longer hear the surf, only the thundering of her rapidly beating heart.

  The next few minutes were a blur. She had just a vague memory of Mark dragging his shirt over his head, kicking off his shoes, peeling away his socks, shucking his jeans down to his briefs, then casting them all aside in a feverish haste.

  Clare had no memory of removing her own high-heeled shoes and the dress, but she must have shed them since she found herself standing there in nothing more than her lacy black bra and matching bikini panties. It was then, vulnerable like this, that the guilt and the fear assaulted her again. The jagged, cruel scars on his right leg, where the bullets had torn into his flesh, didn’t help her state of nerves. Nor did the bulge in his briefs, a clear evidence of his arousal.

  It was only when she made herself remember again how much Terry needed her to succeed that she was able to recover her courage and determination.

  “You are so damn beautiful,” he said in a tone closer to a growl than a husky admiration. “Smell great, too,” he added, catching her in another embrace.

  His observations, together with the contact of his heated, almost-naked body against hers, could have had her weak and reeling. Almost did, if she hadn’t steeled herself against them.

  “The hell with this,” he muttered, backing them toward the bed, falling on it lengthwise with Clare on top of him.

  She couldn’t have found herself in a better position than if she had requested it. A position that left her in control.

  She made use of it by smoothing the palms of her hands slowly, sensually over the slabs of muscles on his chest.

  “Oh, sweetheart, that feels sooo good.”

  She could feel one of his own hands on her back, fingering the clasp of her bra. Given another moment, he would have the bra falling away from her breasts. Clare didn’t allow him that moment. This was one part of her performance she wasn’t prepared to surrender.

  Swiftly lifting herself away from him, she rested on her knees between his spread legs. “I’m going to make you feel even better than that,” she crooned. “Much better.”

  “Yeah? Hey, where you going?” he demanded when she scooted off the bed before he could prevent her.

  “Not far.”

  Her destination was the chair where she had placed her dress and her purse. She was back in a second with the purse and a softly teasing “Did you miss me?”

  He grinned up at her where his head rested on a pillow. “You didn’t need the purse. Not if it was condoms you went for. I’ve got a supply of them right over here in the bedside drawer.”

  “Oh, this is something much more interesting,” she purred, extracting from the purse two pairs of handcuffs.

  His dark eyes widened at the sight of them.

  This was her own method for securing the object resting against his chest. She’d been all too aware of it when he’d stripped off his shirt. The man who had sent her here had tried to give her knockout drops. But introducing them into Mark’s drink would have been too tricky, along with the risk of dangerous aftereffects. She refused to hurt Mark Griggs, at least physically. She’d settled on the handcuffs, gambling now that the combination of the bourbon and his lust would weaken his defenses to a level where he couldn’t resist the temptations the cuffs implied.

  “Into fun and games, are you, Nola?”

  “Makes me a naughty girl,” she said, reaching for one of his wrists. “And something tells me you like naughty girls.”

  “You’re sure of that, are you?”

  “Sure enough, soldier, to ask you to just relax and let me do the work. I guarantee you’re going to love this part. You’ll be wild and begging before I release you for the real action.”

  The promise of that must have been too irresistible for him to question her exact intentions when she locked one end of the first handcuffs around his wrist and the other end around a sturdy, vertical spoke on the headboard.

  When she’d succeeded in cuffing his other wrist with the second pair of handcuffs to another brass rod, she gazed down at him with a pleased smile. “There, you’re my slave now. But you’re going to have to watch the moans and the groans,” she cautioned him. “We don’t want one of your neighbors calling a complaint down to the front desk.”

  “Not a problem,” he assured her. “Except for mine, the rooms all along this end of the hall are unoccupied. At least that’s what the reception clerk told me when I checked in.”

  Clare couldn’t believe the luck she was having at every stage of this operation. If only that too-good-to-be-true luck held just a bit longer...

  “Perfect,” she said. “You can shout your pleasure all you want.”

  He probably would be shouting before much longer. But not with any sexual gratification.

  “Whoa, what do you think you’re doing,” he objected sharply when her hands went to the leather cord around his neck.

  “Just getting this out of the way,” she said, lifting the cord and what dangled from it over his head.

  “That’s not necessary. Put it back.”

  “Sorry, soldier, but I need this,” she apologized, scrambling off the bed with the amulet clutched against her breasts.

  He stared at her in disbelief. But only for a few seconds before his face turned thunderous. Although helpless to stop her, it didn’t prevent him from expressing his fury in terms that made it plain what he thought of her treachery, starting with a biting, “Why you rotten little cheat, you!” and moving on to a string of blistering, far more explicit curses.

  The handcuffs rattled with a similar rage as he yanked at them uselessly. Lieutenant Griggs had altered in the space of a few heartbeats from a man welcoming her seduction to a dangerous adversary.

  If it hadn’t been for those secure restraints, Clare would have been at his mercy. As it was, he had her shivering with the chilling promise of retribution in those stone-hard eyes that followed her around the room.

  She did her best to ignore both his gaze and his savage demands for his release as she methodically made the essential preparations for her escape.

  Dropping the amulet into her purse, she hastened into her dress and heels before unplugging the phone on the bedside table.

  There was always the possibility that, with enough thrashing around, along with the use of his legs, he could knock the receiver off its cradle, an action that would alert the front desk. Which was why she placed the phone well out of reach.

 
“What the hell is that for?” he barked when, after finding a spare blanket on a shelf in the closet, she moved again toward the bed. “You planning on smothering me with it?”

  “Now don’t be difficult.” She unfolded the blanket, covering him with it. “With no clothes on and the air-conditioning in here, you’ll be cold.”

  “Well, aren’t you a considerate little thief.”

  “You can always kick it off if you get too warm.”

  “So what are you planning on doing? Leaving me here for the rest of the night?”

  “Only long enough for me to get far away from here. Then I’ll phone the hotel to let them know you need their help.” She produced the two handcuff keys from her purse, moved in the direction of the door and laid the keys in plain sight on the surface of a desk. “I’ll leave these here so they can unlock you when the time comes.”

  “Thought of everything, didn’t you?”

  She didn’t answer him. What could she say? Struggling with remorse, needing to free herself from the gaze of those accusing eyes, Clare slipped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

  Chapter 2

  Clare had hoped to find the elevator where they had left it. She wanted to make her getaway as quickly as possible. But, of course, it had been summoned to another floor.

  Punching the call button, she waited for it restlessly. She glanced repeatedly along the length of the hall in the direction of Mark’s room, unable to rid herself of the threat of his pursuit. Silly of her to be uneasy. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not for some time, anyway.

  Where was the elevator? Someone must be holding it on another floor, she decided. If it didn’t arrive soon, she would take the stairs. Meanwhile...

  The amulet seemed to be burning a hole in the side of her purse. In the end, her curiosity to examine it refused to wait for a safer moment. She removed it from her purse, turning it over in her hand.

  Perhaps two inches or so in length, the wedge-shaped amulet was curved on its bottom end. A small hole had been drilled in the pointed top through which the thin, leather cord had been strung.

  A ceramic piece, Clare realized, with a dull, buff-colored glaze. Designs had been etched in the flat surfaces on both sides before it had been fired. All lines and squiggles, the jumbled patterns had no meaning for her.

  This ordinary-looking wedge didn’t seem the sort of thing an army ranger of Mark Griggs’s caliber would consider important. For that matter, why did the man, who’d referred to it as an amulet when he sent her to steal it, want it so badly?

  Was it very old, a valuable heirloom? Without knowing its origin or history, Clare couldn’t begin to answer that. Nor did she really care as long as it won her Terry’s freedom.

  The ping of the elevator signaled its arrival. Stuffing the amulet back inside her purse as the door slid back, she hurried inside. It wasn’t the button for the fifth floor that she selected. That had been another necessary lie. Clare wasn’t registered in the hotel.

  The elevator released her on the ground level seconds later. Hurrying across the lobby, she went out to the parking lot, secured the bag she had brought with her from New Orleans from the back of her compact and returned with it to the lobby.

  There were restrooms off the corridor that led to the cocktail lounge. She went into the women’s where she scrubbed off the flashy makeup, removed the hoop earrings and clasped her hair back into a ponytail. When she emerged from the restroom, she was dressed in flats, tan pants and a simple blue top.

  Nola had vanished. She was Clare Fuller again and feeling like her familiar self. The whole transformation from parking lot to restroom and out had taken only minutes. Nor had there been any witness to the change other than the attendant at the reception desk, who had spared her no more than a disinterested glance.

  Purse in one hand, in the other the bag that now contained the dress, heels and earrings, Clare exited the hotel. She felt blessedly released from surroundings she never wanted to see again, so grateful to be free of them she permitted herself a brief interval to savor the nighttime air.

  It was warm and humid, carrying with it on a breeze off the Gulf the tangy odors of salt and weed and fish. She tried not to think about the man back in the hotel handcuffed to his bed. But the image of him refused to go away, spoiling the moment of her enjoyment. She had deliberately aroused him and then abandoned him. Unforgivable of her. But essential, she kept reminding herself.

  Checking her watch in the well-lighted area, realizing it was time for her to leave if she was to make the last ferry of the day off the island, Clare headed for her car. A short while later, with the parking lot behind her, she sped off into the night in the direction of the ferry landing.

  She couldn’t stop picturing Mark Griggs.

  * * *

  Lieutenant Mark Griggs was one royally pissed off soldier. He’d like to think his foul mood was all “Nola’s” fault, but the truth was he was as enraged with himself as he was with her.

  With his training and experience, he should have seen through her act from the beginning, sensed there was something not right about it. But the truth was he had wanted her too much to question it, unable to resist the lure of that sensational body. Not to mention the bourbon.

  Mark was ordinarily satisfied by nothing stronger than beer. But he supposed he’d been missing the guys in his unit, needing the bourbon to take the edge off his loneliness. Big mistake. It had made him careless, something an army ranger avoided even when home on leave like this.

  You know what the real trouble was, don’t you? Besides you being a prize idiot, that is. You were too long without a woman. So much in need of one you practically invited her to ambush you.

  Damn, he hated being suckered like this. Hated her having left him trapped here, as if he were some victim spread-eagled on an altar in a pagan ceremony of sacrifice.

  But he wasn’t entirely helpless, was he? He still had the use of his legs. Wanting to prove that to himself, he began to kick at the blanket covering him, using his feet to work it down his body far enough to leave it in a heap at the foot of the bed.

  Real smart of you, Griggs. Now, if you get cold, like she warned, you won’t be able to cover yourself again.

  It had been nothing but an act of childish defiance. It had accomplished one thing, though. Having eased the worst of his frustration, he was just calm enough now to think rationally about this whole business.

  The amulet. She had stolen the amulet, leaving his wallet and his watch untouched. Didn’t make sense. The amulet couldn’t be worth much of anything. Except to himself, that is, and only for a personal reason. Then why had she taken it?

  Whatever her reason, he wanted it back. And he refused to wait for her phone call to the hotel, which might have been another lie, to get it. He wasn’t a ranger for nothing. The handcuffs and the headboard might be strong, but he was strong, too. And just stubborn enough to somehow free himself. Then he was going after his amulet.

  Wherever she had gone, whatever it took, he promised himself with a grim-jawed determination, he was going to find her. And when he got his hands on her...

  * * *

  The luck that had been there for Clare all evening ran out at the ferry landing.

  Where were the other cars waiting to board? Where were the passengers on foot? More to the point, where was the ferry itself waiting to load at the dock? Her heart sank with the realization that the place was deserted.

  She couldn’t have missed the last ferry. The first thing she’d done when she arrived on the island was to check its schedule. The last ferry of each day set out for the mainland at eleven-forty-five. No earlier, no later.

  Forget what she had told Mark in the cocktail lounge to gain his attention. Her wristwatch was dependable and her cell phone worked just fine. Both registered a few minutes before
eleven-thirty, and the illuminated clock on her dashboard verified that.

  There had to be an explanation. Maybe a favorable one, and before she panicked she’d better try to learn it. The nearby ferry office was still lighted. Better still, its late-night attendant must have spotted her arrival through one of its windows. Emerging from the office, he headed across the tarmac to her car. Clare lowered her driver’s window to speak to him.

  The young man wore shorts and a T-shirt. When he leaned down to address her through the open window, an earnest expression of apology on his face, she could see that the baseball cap on his head was printed with the ferry company’s logo.

  “Sorry, ma’am, but if you were looking to cross on the last ferry, there isn’t going to be one. She developed engine trouble over on the other side and is stranded there until the mechanics can work on her tomorrow.”

  Clare’s response was an anxious “Isn’t there a replacement?”

  “Will be one, but not until first light in the morning when she’s released from periodic maintenance at the mainland dock.”

  “Isn’t there any other way off the island?”

  “You could always try hiring a private boat, but at this hour...” He shook his head. “Leastways, even if there was one available, it wouldn’t be anything big enough to carry your car.”

  No choice. She was trapped here on the island.

  “Look, ma’am, there’s a motel just down the road there. Real handy. You could check into it for the night. It’s what the other folks counting on the last ferry went and did.”

  She thought about that and decided against it. “No, if it’s all right, I’ll just wait here in my car until morning. I want to be the first in line to board.”

  He must have thought her choice was a foolish one, but all he said in parting was a polite “You’re welcome to do that, ma’am. Area’s safely lighted, and the island police cruise by regularly to make sure everything’s secure.”

  Clare thanked him, and after wishing her a good night he departed, leaving her on her own. She probably was being foolish, but she didn’t want to chance not being aboard that first morning ferry. Her need to escape the island was almost a frantic one now.