by Rebecca York
Jack reached for her hand as they stepped onto the path. His fingers felt cold, and she slid him a questioning look. But he said nothing as they passed one of the damn gardeners who seemed to be all over the place.
Gardeners. Guards. There was probably no difference, except that the guards’ weapons were showing. Or maybe the gardeners only carried communications equipment—to summon men with guns.
No one stopped them as they topped the rise that led down to the ocean. She kept hold of Jack’s hand as they negotiated the sandy slope, then stood looking out at the turquoise water—watching the foam-tipped waves roll in and crash against the sand, feeling the wind ripple against her skin.
Jack stood still as a statue, looking out to sea.
“You wanted to talk?” she finally said.
“Yeah.”
Lord, there were so many things bubbling inside her. She wanted to ask him what his passionate lovemaking last night had meant. But their personal relationship was way down the priority list. What she needed was to find out about Dawn.
When he said no more, she asked, “Was Dawn in the tower?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God.”
“That woman you told me about—Juanita—showed up to bring her dinner. It looks like they’re friends. I could hear them talking, and Juanita told her that you’re here.”
“She’s on our side?” Maddy breathed.
“She offered to sleep with one of the guards, when he got suspicious.”
“Do you have a timetable for getting Dawn out of here?”
“Maddy, there’s stuff I need to tell you.”
She raised her questioning gaze to his. “Like what?”
“Like you’re in danger.”
11
MADDY’S WHOLE BODY TENSED. She was in danger? From what?
Her questioning gaze searched Jack’s face, but before he could say any more, a shadow blocked the sun. They both turned to find one of the security men standing at the top of the rise.
She felt her chest tighten. How long had he been there? Had he heard any of their conversation? Because if he had, they were in big trouble.
Fight or flight, her brain screamed.
Then the man spoke. “Mr. Reynard sent me to ask you to join him this afternoon.”
For what? A tea party?
“We’d be delighted,” Jack answered. Really, it was the only answer he could give—unless the two of them were planning to dive into the ocean and swim for the mainland.
Jack kept his hand firmly on hers as they climbed the dune. When she felt her fingers going numb, she eased up her death grip on him.
The guard didn’t speak again as they followed him up the path toward the mansion house. When they passed one of the outdoor pools, she saw several of the other male and female guests relaxing around tables and on chaise longues. So they’d finally gotten friendly with each other. Maybe they’d had an orgy the night before. Everybody looked up with interest as Maddy and Jack followed the guard inside.
Something about those looks made her feel like she was strolling toward her own funeral. Trying to ignore the speculative stares, she focused on the guard’s back.
They proceeded through the familiar French doors, then across the reception area and down the hall where they’d first explored the private rooms. But the man took a sharp left into another part of the house. They stepped through more double doors onto a beautifully landscaped, enclosed patio. Bougainvillea festooned one stucco wall, and small palm trees in pots cast patches of shade over the ceramic tile floor. Other pots held flowering plants. And water cascaded down a small waterfall into a pond where lilies bloomed and koi swam.
Chaise longues and comfortable cushioned chairs were scattered around the area. The only thing that marred the peaceful scene were the occupants of the patio—Oliver Reynard and Calista.
“Oh, there you are,” Reynard said as he saw them step into the sunshine.
His voice sent a shiver down Maddy’s spine.
“Jack, I wanted to show you my dock area, since we’re discussing transshipment of goods.”
“Right,” Jack answered, his voice hearty.
“I’m sure the women will be bored, so they can relax and chat while they wait for us.”
“Oh, I think the dock area would be fascinating,” Maddy said quickly as she cast a glance at Calista. The woman looked like she wanted to eat her for lunch.
Reynard shook his head. “Another time, my dear. Jack and I will be talking business.”
She might have protested, but she knew better than to make waves. “Oh well, a business discussion,” she murmured. “I don’t have much of a head for business.”
“We won’t be too long. I’m sure you ladies will enjoy getting to know each other better.”
Yeah, sure, Maddy thought. But she kept the observation to herself.
Reynard clapped Jack on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
He cast her a look that she couldn’t read, then followed their host through the door.
Maddy wandered over to the pond, watching the fish dart in and out of the foliage.
“Want to feed them?” Calista asked.
“Um, sure.”
The woman brought over a slice of bread from the covered basket on the table. As soon as the fish saw it, they congregated near the edge of the pond. Calista tore off a piece and tossed it into the water. The fish fought for the morsel.
“Your turn,” Reynard’s mistress said, tearing off another piece and holding it out. There was no way to avoid brushing her fingers as Maddy took the bread. Quickly she drew her hand back and tossed the food to the fish.
“Can I offer you something to drink? Or to eat?”
“No thanks, I just finished lunch.”
“Well, I do want a cool drink. And I’d feel strange unless you joined me.”
Maddy nodded. “Okay then.”
“What would you like?”
“Um, iced tea.”
“Excellent. We have a wonderful tropical blend here that Oliver keeps for special guests. And I’ll have a rum punch.”
Rum punch. Alcohol was the last thing Maddy wanted.
Calista crossed to a wrought-iron table with a pattern of blooming irises worked into the surface. Picking up a small bell, she rang it twice. A man in a waiter’s uniform appeared instantly as though he’d been standing right inside the door waiting for Calista’s summons.
“Bennet, we’d both like a drink. And a bowl of cut fruit, I think. Some of that wonderful watermelon, pineapple and raspberry combination we had at lunch. Bring Ms. Griffin a glass of iced tea, and I’ll have rum punch.”
“Very good,” the man said and turned to leave.
Calista pulled out a chair and sat down. Maddy did the same.
“So how was your night—after you left us?” Reynard’s mistress murmured.
“Fine.”
Calista gave her a little smirk, as if they were sharing a private joke. Had she been listening to what the microphones had picked up, Maddy wondered.
The drinks arrived on a silver tray, along with the bowl of requested fruit. Fast, she thought. Was there a service kitchen inside?
“When do you think the guys will be back?” Maddy asked as she stirred liquid sugar into her tea.
“They shouldn’t be too long.”
Maddy took a sip of her drink. It tasted strange. “What kind of tea is this?” she asked.
“Our special blend.”
Cautiously Maddy tried another sip, then set the glass down and stabbed a toothpick into a melon ball, which she set on her plate.
Calista was watching her intently. For a few minutes, they made idle conversation, but the other woman seemed about to snap in two.
“What’s wrong?” Maddy asked.
“Oliver will be annoyed if I haven’t done a good job of entertaining you. Please, don’t tell him you don’t like the tea.”
“Oh, I won’t,” Maddy agreed, taking several more swallows.
What she really wanted to do was pour the damn stuff into one of the flower pots. If this was the best he could do, he’d better get a better blend.
Calista seemed to relax.
“You really should have taken my advice in the first place,” she said.
“About what?”
“About enjoying what the island has to offer.”
“I am.”
Calista gave a small laugh. “I don’t think so. But I can assure you, you will.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Maddy demanded, a little frisson of alarm zinging through her.
Calista shrugged. “You’re about to find out.”
Maddy’s throat was suddenly dry as sand. Reaching for the glass of tea, she took another gulp. When she set the glass back down, it thunked onto the table, rocking back and forth in her unsteady grasp. She struggled to hold it upright, sure that some of the liquid was going to spill. It might have, if the glass had been fuller.
Her head was foggy; her heart was pounding. “I’m not feeling well,” she said carefully. “I think I’ll go back to the villa.” To her own ears, the words sounded slurred.
Cold prickles of worry bit at her. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Had Calista poisoned her tea? Was that what this was all about?
The prickles escalated to a stab of real fear. She wasn’t thinking very clearly now. But the overwhelming thought in her mind was that she had to get back to the villa and throw this stuff up.
A GATE DECORATED with spouting dolphins barred the entrance to the wharf area. As Reynard approached, two armed guards snapped to attention. They looked a lot more polished than the jerks last night at the Dark Tower, Jack thought.
“At ease,” the Master of Orchid Island said.
The two men changed position, but they relaxed only marginally.
Pulling a key from his pocket, Reynard opened the gate. He stepped aside, and Jack walked in first.
They proceeded down a ramp to a very long, very wide wooden dock where several boats were moored: six high-speed patrol cruisers and several pleasure craft. The largest was a big mother of a yacht that looked like it could have been built for European royalty. He could see a wide expanse of polished teak deck and an interior salon as big as a ballroom.
“So what do you think?” Reynard asked.
Assuming that Reynard was asking for comments on the docks, not his little fleet, he answered, “This is certainly adequate for my transshipping.”
“The water’s very deep here. We can bring in craft as large as a small cruise ship.”
“I don’t need that much cargo space. Two kilos of coke is about my limit.”
“No problem.”
“So do we have a deal?” Jack asked.
“I like your proposal best, but I’d like a little bigger cut.”
“I’m already offering you top dollar for your services,” Jack shot back.
Reynard chuckled. “Well, it’s nice to have a bidding war between you and Don.”
“What would swing the deal for you?”
“I think you know,” Reynard answered.
Jack studied the wolfish look on the man’s face, and all at once, despite the hot sun beating down from above, he felt his skin go cold.
“I think I’d like to go back now,” he said, working hard to keep his voice even.
Reynard glanced at his watch. “What’s the rush? The ladies will be there whenever we return—waiting eagerly.”
The silky way Reynard murmured the last comment did nothing to ease Jack’s disquiet. Turning, he walked rapidly back toward the gate without waiting to see if Reynard was following.
“I THINK I need to go back to the villa and lie down,” Maddy whispered, wondering if she’d already said that. It sounded familiar, but she wasn’t exactly sure if she’d spoken the words aloud or only formed them in her mind.
Calista was watching her with a kind of excitement that made Maddy’s breath catch.
“You can lie down over there.” She pointed to one of the chaises.
“No. Home,” Maddy insisted, hearing the note of desperation in her own voice. Her body felt alternately cold and hot now, as if some little demon inside her were playing with the thermostat. Clenching her teeth, she gripped the arms of the chair and tried to stand. She made it to her feet, then almost fell back, but Reynard’s mistress moved quicky to her side, steadying her. She hated the feel of those long, red-nailed fingers on her flesh, but she didn’t have the energy to push Calista away. Or the energy to keep insisting that she needed to leave. All she could do was allow herself to be led across the patio, where she sat down heavily on the chaise.
“Let me make you comfortable,” Calista said.
“Really, I’ll be okay in a minute,” she answered in a breathless voice.
Ignoring her, Calista knelt beside her and lifted first one of her legs and then the other onto the cushion. Next she unbuckled her sandals, slipping them off, giving each foot a little caress. This time, the touch of the woman’s fingers on her skin sent a tiny current up Maddy’s leg. A disturbing little current.
She tried to focus on the face hovering above hers, but now the features looked blurry.
Maddy’s whole body felt heavy, and at the same time her head felt like it was filled with nothing more than heated air. The cushion under her was making her body prickle. Sending currents of heat along her nerve endings and through her system. Heat she tried not to acknowledge.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she struggled for control. But she felt as if she had climbed onto a roller coaster that was plunging down a steep incline—and she had no say about what would happen next.
“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered.
“I’ve just given you something to help you enjoy yourself.”
“No.”
“You’re feeling turned on, aren’t you? Don’t fight it.”
Maddy squeezed her eyes more tightly closed. That was exactly what she felt, and she tried to will it away. “No,” she denied.
“You’re lying.”
A hand reached out to stroke her cheek, a hand that slid across her jaw, down the column of her neck and over the tops of her breasts in a much too intimate caress.
“Don’t,” she moaned.
“It feels good. Admit it.”
“No.”
Calista smiled at her. “You can lie to yourself. But you can’t lie to me. I’ve taken this drug. I know very well what it does. You’re on fire now, aren’t you.”
Maddy moaned. It was true. She was hot and shaky and aroused. And the sensations kept building. “Don’t touch me like that,” she pleaded.
“Just relax. You’re going to have a very good time. Most women would kill for the drug I’ve given you. It’s like when a man takes Viagra. Only better. You’ll see. You’ll come and come. And each orgasm will be better than the last.”
“Let me go.”
“It’s too late for that. You’re going to need to come soon. Your body is demanding it already, isn’t it?”
She wanted to scream her denial, but she knew it was true. Her nipples felt painfully tight. And an insistent throbbing pounded through her sex. She had never felt anything like this before. Not this wild, blinding need for sexual release.
Calista had given her something that had done it. Something in the iced tea. Lord, she never should have drunk the strange-tasting stuff. But it had been impossible to refuse.
She felt the woman hovering over her, stroking her hair.
“They’ll be back soon. But I want to tell you something first. All the things that I said to you last night, those were things he told me to say. He likes to see me come on to women. And he likes to watch me make love with them. He’ll watch us together in a while. But you can close your eyes and pretend it’s Jack doing stuff to you, if it helps.”
“Let me go.”
“No. I can’t. Oliver wants this, and I do what he wants. He’ll love the way you look now, with your nipples poking against your shir
t,” she whispered. “I know he’ll like it even better when we get that shirt off of you. Did you know there are some women who can come just from breast stimulation—when they’re really hot. We’ll find out if you’re one of them. Or you can touch yourself while I stroke your breasts. Making yourself come the first time has its advantages. Then I’ll be able to see what you like. And I can do it for you later.”
Maddy whimpered in fear and frustration and tried to struggle. But she didn’t have the strength, didn’t even know what she wanted any more. Volcanic pressure was building inside her. Pressure that must find release—one way or the other.
But God, not like this. Not like this!
She tried to push herself up, tried to escape. But Calista shoved her roughly back onto the chaise—just as an icy voice cut through the fog in her brain. “What the hell is going on?”
It was Jack. Jack had come back. She croaked his name like a prayer of thanksgiving.
He repeated his question.
She heard someone else speaking. Calista. “I just gave her something to…you know…help her relax.”
“Relax. Is that what you call it?” Jack snapped.
Reynard was speaking now. “You didn’t have my permission to give her anything,” he said, emphasizing every word as if he were talking to a stupid child.
Calista said something Maddy couldn’t catch.
Then Jack was beside her, his palm against her cheek. “You’re going to be okay,” he murmured.
She stared up at him, ashamed and confused. “I feel…” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to tell him she felt like her blood was on fire. Not in front of these other two people.
Calista and Reynard were talking again. Reynard sounded angry. But she knew he was lying. He’d told Calista to do this—hadn’t he? Or had that been the lie? Calista sounded like a little girl who’d been naughty—but she knew her father wasn’t really going to punish her.
Jack’s voice cut through the conversation again, and she focused on him like a drowning swimmer clamping desperate hands around a lifeline. “Okay, I’m taking her out of here now. And you’d better tell me where the two of us can have some real privacy. I mean a room with no damn recording equipment!”
