by Cherry Adair
“Just before I went to Brandon to find you.
“And you’re only mentioning this now?” He spoke in his normal tone—furious. He practically dragged her down the alley and didn’t stop until they were back in the small olive grove.
“Start at the beginning and keep going.”
“I told you I came to look for Alex.”
Her troubled eyes met his and Marc forced himself to remain calm. He kept enough distance between them so that he wasn’t tempted to strangle her. Although to be fair, if he’d asked her the right questions the other day, he wouldn’t be having to ask them now. Three years of shoveling horse shit had made him forget the important shit people hid. It was his job, his job, damn it, to know things before they reared up and bit him in the ass.
“I spent a week playing tourist in Pavina. Alex wasn’t there. I rented a Vespa and came to this side of the island. I knew he was close, so I checked into a pensione.” She shivered, although the sweatshirt was clinging uncomfortably to her sweaty back. “I guess I…I guess I asked one too many questions.”
“Shit, Victoria!”
“Stop cursing me.”
“Get on with the story.”
“Two men came and told me that they had some questions. They weren’t very polite about it, and they scared me to death. I tried to blow them off by telling them I was on vacation but they got…nasty.”
Marc growled low in his throat like a rabid dog. Damn fool woman. “What did they do to you?”
“They took me to that pink house and asked me what I was doing here poking around. I kept lying to them. They didn’t take it well. I wished I spoke fluent Italian, but I just caught a few words here and there. They were yelling and screaming and waving their hands.”
“Cut to the chase.”
“Yes, well, that went on for a while, and then they locked me in a room upstairs and they told me to think about it. Which I did.” Victoria’s eyes went unfocused. “They came back and I stuck to my story and the big one in the expensive suit hit me…and the other one got mad and hit him. And they were yelling and screaming again. And then a man came and they…they tied me…. And then I started screaming….” She picked an olive off the ground, grimacing when she bit into it. She spat it neatly in her hand, then buried the soggy pieces in a hole she made in the dirt.
His jaw ached from clenching his teeth. “How long did they hold you?”
“Thirteen days, seven hours and eighteen minutes.”
“How did you get out?”
“I convinced them I was telling the truth. Besides, they knew that I had to see a doctor about my arm. That’s what they said. It didn’t ring true but I didn’t care, I was just grateful to be out of there. They took me to the airport and sent me to Naples.”
It didn’t make sense. Why would they keep her for almost two weeks and then let her go? “Stay here. I’m going back to check it out. Don’t move, Victoria. You understand me? Don’t budge an inch. If you see anyone coming, move slowly back into the cover of the trees. If I’m not back in an hour, go to camp.”
Tory watched him until he blended into the shadows at the edge of the village and faded from sight. Please God, let him come back within the hour. She had no intention of finding her way across the rocks alone. She swallowed as she remembered those days and nights in that house.
The last thing she’d imagined was that he would haul her all over God’s creation and bring her back here. But it was worth it—anything was worth it if she could find Alex.
They had done a little more than “hit” her. By the time she arrived in Naples, she was so weak from lack of food and the beatings that she’d collapsed at the airport. She’d been taken to the hospital. There she’d been treated with what she thought was a pretty cavalier attitude. The authorities believed that her husband had beaten her, and Tory was too scared to tell them the truth. She didn’t want to risk making matters worse for Alex.
She rested her head against the olive tree and kept her eyes firmly fixed on the spot where Marc had disappeared. She didn’t want to remember her ordeal. The pain had been excruciating. The terror had been worse. It had surpassed her worst nightmare, because never in her wildest imagination had she conceived of a human being doing what they had done to her.
What had made it a million times worse was that she’d felt Alex close by. Alex had known exactly what they were doing to her and had been powerless to stop them. Tears welled in her eyes and she gritted her teeth.
She would do anything to get her brother away from them. Tory pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes, willing the useless tears away.
“Alex, where are you?”
CHAPTER SIX
“DID YOU FIND ANYTHING?” she asked eagerly, standing and dusting the dirt off her backside when Marc returned almost an hour later.
“They have him in Pavina.”
“Good.” She took an eager step forward. “Let’s go.”
He shook his head. “It’s going to be light in a couple of hours. I’ll wait to go in.” There’d been three men in the house. Marc had eavesdropped long enough to get a general location on Lynx. And the fact that he, or rather someone from T-FLAC, was expected and eagerly anticipated. Since he had no garbage detail for backup, he’d left them alive. Dead bodies had a tendency to set off alarms.
After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded and they silently skirted town before heading to the beach. It was worse going back. Thick clouds had covered the moon, making it impossible for her to see one foot in front of the other. Marc, on the other hand, seemed to have perfect vision as he pushed her up one side of an enormous boulder, then practically dragged her down the next. By the time they got to the grotto, her legs were shaky and her breathing erratic. She wasn’t used to such strenuous exercise. Marc hadn’t slowed down just because she was out of shape.
Pulling the Walther from his belt, he checked it before he laid it next to the pallet. “We’ll go into Pavina tomorrow.” He pulled his black T-shirt over his head.
Tory couldn’t tear her eyes away from sleek muscles and taut, tanned skin. An arrow of crisp, curling dark hair ran down his washboard-flat stomach to the waistband of his jeans. He started unzipping his fly, and Tory swallowed audibly as a vee of paler skin was exposed. And then Marc, wearing nothing but skimpy black briefs, settled himself comfortably on top of the silver thermal blanket.
“Best get some sleep, princess. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” He pillowed his arms beneath his head, his eyes narrowed as he watched her. Tory picked up his discarded jeans, folded them, then placed them by the water bottle and picked up his shirt. It smelled like him, hot and sexy. She forced herself to fold it neatly on top of the jeans.
“I slept all day. I’m not tired.” There was nothing else to tidy. While the idea of leaving her brother wherever he was made Tory’s heart falter, she had to trust that Marc knew what he was doing. But waiting until dark to go looking again meant an entire day trapped in the cave with Marc. Her grandmother would have said she had ants in her pants. She would have been partially right.
It annoyed her that he looked so relaxed while she was as wound up as an old-fashioned watch spring. She wished that he’d left his jeans on. Unwillingly, her eyes traveled down the long length of his practically naked body.
“Come over here, then,” he said, his voice silky soft in the half-light. “I’ll show you what we can do instead of sleeping.” Tory grabbed the bar of soap out of the pack and picked up a damp towel. “I’m going to take a bath.”
Marc closed his eyes, a small smile playing around his mouth. “Don’t wake me when you come to bed.”
He made it sound so…intimate. She scowled as she walked out of camp. As soon as she saw the hot steaming water in the small circular pool she started pulling the damp sweatshirt over her head. The jeans came next. It was a good thing she could use her arm a little now.
Sliding slowly into the water, she rested the cast on the ledge of rock and closed her eyes
as the hot water soothed her aching muscles. The water was relaxing. She started soaping herself before zoning out in the soporific heat of the water. Her skin jumped as her soapy hand skimmed her body. What would it be like…? She pushed that thought out of her mind. Marc Savin was dangerous; he made her think of things she’d never imagined. He made her want things that she’d only read about. How could just spending a few days with the man turn her thoughts from rational to irrational?
The thought of his hand on her breast made her skin shiver. Oh, God. All she could think about when he was anywhere near her was his touch on her bare skin. The way his hands had felt caressing her hair. Somehow the combination of danger and the proximity of Marc were enough to make her crazy. Only a crazy woman would be fantasizing about a man who couldn’t be more wrong, more ill-suited for the life she’d chosen for herself. She wanted nesting and consistency. Home and family—things a man like Marc probably mocked in his sleep. Correction—he probably mocked them openly—Lord knew he wasn’t one to keep his opinion to himself.
So, it had to be a situational psychotic break. There was something compellingly erotic about the danger mixed with an unhealthy dose of pent-up sexual frustration on her part.
She played the What If game in her mind. She’d never fit into his life. He liked danger. She’d seen the anticipation on his face as they’d surveyed the sleeping town of Pescarna.
She just wanted to find Alex and go back to her quiet, predictable, normal life. She wanted to go back to her color-coordinated wardrobe—so what if it was all neutrals? She wanted her safe, comfortable eight-to-five job at the auto-parts store.
She didn’t like adventure. It was fine to read about it, but she was already good and sick of living it. And Marc Savin scared her, most of all. It wasn’t just the fact that he held a gun like a natural extension of his arm. When he’d kissed her she’d forgotten every single thing her grandmother had ever warned her about. And there had been a ton of overprotective warnings delivered over the years.
Shivering despite the hot water, she laid the tie from the end of her braid carefully on her folded clothes and let her hair fan around her. She wanted shampoo and conditioner—not utilitarian soap. Soap she shared with Marc. Impatiently she lathered her hair and sank beneath the surface to rinse it.
Marc wasn’t for her. They were as different as chalk from cheese. When she got back to her real world she would forget all about him and get on with her life. The only reason her mind was consumed with him at all was because of the close proximity. It wasn’t as if he could go unnoticed. He was large, menacing, intriguing, handsome—whoa! She couldn’t think of him in those terms. No good could or would come of it.
Something brushed her foot and slithered around her ankle. She gave a piercing shriek, shooting up out of the water, scraping her leg on the rocks.
There were no footfalls, but suddenly he was there.
“What the hell is it now?” Marc came up behind her as she stood shivering on the bank. He held a flashlight in one hand and a gun in the other. He played the light on her face.
Heart pounding she squinted into the light. “There’s…there’s something in the water.” She shuddered as the water from her clinging wet hair dripped down her bare legs.
He turned the light on the rippling surface of the pond. An annoying little smile played around the corners of his mouth after he trained the narrow beam into the steaming water. A piece of vine, no more than six inches long, floated just below the surface. “Yeah, I can see how this could scare the hell out of you.”
Tory gritted her teeth. How was she supposed to have seen it? Mr. Macho had kept the flashlight with him. She glanced down, she was naked—again—and standing dripping on her neatly folded clothes. With a moan she picked up the damp clothes and hugged them to her chest. “Turn around,” she demanded, hot all over.
Marc turned around in a full circle. Directing the full force of his pale eyes on her naked skin. Up and down, down and up. She felt the heat of his gaze like a caress. Her heart stopped, then started beating triple time as he flicked off the flashlight, plunging them into the ethereal, faint sapphire glow from the lake. It illuminated the hard planes of his cheekbones. His eyes glittered dangerously, as he watched her, as if he couldn’t help himself.
She could see his body quite clearly in the soft iridescent glow of the water. Which meant he could see her just as clearly—see the trickle of water slowly streaming between her breasts She clutched the clothes tighter to her midriff, until her hand hurt. While she’d never felt it before, this intense, consuming attraction had her ready to explode. Tory felt another trickle of water beading on her breast, and saw his eyes follow its path. Mesmerized, she stood absolutely still, feeling her blood heat and surge through her body.
His muscles flexed under satin-smooth skin. “Princess,” he warned in a strange deep tone that made her nerve endings shiver. “Now would be a great time to cut and run.”
He stepped closer, his footsteps muffled on the springy turf surrounding the pool. He was so close she could feel the heat and power of his hard body all the way down her naked torso. His hand came up to push her wet hair back over one shoulder. His touch was gentle, but his voice was harsh. “Run.”
“I…can’t.” If her life depended on it, Tory couldn’t have moved right then.
“Tell me to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
He half chuckled, half groaned. “Drop the clothes, Tory.”
The bundle of damp clothing fell to rest near her bare feet. She tilted her face up to look at him.
His finger traced over her lips. “I like your mouth. More than I should.”
He drew in a sharp breath as he moved the rest of her long hair over the other shoulder until she stood fully exposed before him. His shadowy eyes swept over her body. She felt strangely euphoric as she saw the rapid rise and fall of his chest just inches away from her.
Involuntarily her own hand reached out to touch the springy mat of hair on his chest. His fingers slipped down her bare arm to hold her hand in place. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
She felt the wild tattoo of his heartbeat under her palm, and curled her fingers, brushing her knuckles against muscle and hot skin. An electric sensation shivered up her arm. Her wet hair clung to her back as she swayed closer. “I’m hoping you know enough for both of us.”
His mouth found hers, and Tory closed her eyes as she felt him part her lips with the delicious heat of his tongue. A low thrill surged through her body as he kissed her until she was light-headed, his mouth moist and insistent as he urged her to respond.
Marc dragged his mouth away from hers, then claimed her lips again in a series of deep kisses that had her straining on tiptoe against the wall of his chest. She couldn’t seem to get close enough.
Taking a handful of her wet hair, he drew it with maddening slowness across her breasts. “If you had any idea…” His voice was thick as he smoothed the strands down her breasts, across the quivering curve of her belly and down. Her hair was cool against her naked skin but she could feel the heat of Marc’s fingers through the wet strands. Her skin felt ultrasensitive as his incredibly inventive hands trailed to the very ends of her hair.
His callused fingers dipped fleetingly into the crease between her thighs. Tory thought she might fly out of her skin.
“If you knew what fantasies I’ve had about your hair…” he whispered.
His hand slid up her narrow rib cage and covered her damp breast. Her nipple was so engorged that it actually hurt, demanding attention. Her body swayed toward him as he smoothed both hands across the aching peaks. Her head felt unbearably heavy and she rested it against his chest. When she opened her mouth against his throat, his hot skin tasted slightly salty, and she could feel the thundering of his heartbeat.
“Tory,” he said hoarsely, warningly. She kissed his throat again, passionately.
“Make love to me,” she whispered against his skin. “Pleas
e, Marc, make love to me.” Her cool hands skimmed the small of his back as she tried to pull him even closer.
He wanted to argue that this was neither the time nor the place. It defied logic, that she would feel so incredibly wonderful against him, that her breast fit his hand just right, that her satin skin seemed made for his touch. That she was so perfect.
Perfectly wrong for him in every way.
He gritted his teeth as her hand skimmed across his stomach. “Seems as if neither one of us knows what we’re doing,” Marc muttered, his voice ragged.
Tory felt the muscles under her hand tighten as he hesitated. She felt powerful. Invincible. Gloriously unafraid. She slid her hand down to the waistband of his briefs.
He clutched her wrist and held it away, his mouth coming down on hers in another soul-stealing kiss. Tory pulled her arm free and wrapped it around his sleek muscled back. His body was hard and heavy as he lowered her onto the cool bed of moss.
His mouth, fixed on hers, was greedy, devouring. He seemed to want to absorb her. He kissed her hotly, insistently, and she gave back to him, tasting, savoring the dark flavor of him.
He lowered his mouth to taste one breast and Tory jerked as his hair brushed her skin. The touch of his hot, wet mouth on her breast was electrifying.
She felt the rasp of his teeth on her nipple, and she arched her back as the hard length of his arousal pressed at the juncture of her thighs. Moaning, she greedily ran her mouth over any part of him she could reach. He tasted so good, she couldn’t get enough of him. His skin was like hot satin here, rough there. She savored every new texture.
With his hands, followed by his open mouth, he caressed every exposed part of her—first her thighs, then down the length of her legs until she moved restlessly against him.
Tory’s eyes fluttered open as he rose to strip off his briefs. He was fully, magnificently, erect. He knelt down between her legs, his eyes dark, his chest moving rapidly as he sucked in much-needed air. Victoria shivered from the heat of his gaze as he slowly moved his hands to the juncture of her thighs, his concentration frustrating and complete. She wanted him to hurry, but he moved with methodical precision to untangle her long tresses from the nest of short curls at the apex of her thighs. Then, gripping both her arms, he settled them above her head so that she lay suppliant and exposed before him.
