by Jill Shalvis
“Are you kidding me?” She felt disgusted. Disgusting. Her fingers clenched on the hammer in front of her as a hot hatred filled her for this place and the people in it. “She was sixteen. A kid. Practically a baby—”
“Maddie was never a baby. She was always thinking, always trying to get a step ahead of the boss.”
“Her uncle. Who should have been protecting her. Us,” she added when his eyes narrowed in surprise. She was breaking her cover, and in that moment, she didn’t care. She wanted to kill him.
Brody came close, slipped an arm around her. “Honey? You getting low blood sugar again?”
Honey. That broke her concentration, having Brody call her honey. “Yeah.” God, she needed air. Or something. “Food.”
Tiny Tim gave the martyr sigh again. “Same old demands.”
Leena. You’re Leena . . . Maddie needed to believe it. She also needed a grip, a big one, especially with Brody all ears, soaking up bunches of information that she hadn’t wanted him to have.
Tiny Tim shrugged, apparently unconcerned about the hammer in her hand or the urge she had to smash it over his head. “Pretty damn ungrateful. Rick fed and clothed you both for years, kept a roof over your heads when he could have sent you away.”
“There was no one to send us to.”
“Exactly. He kept you out of the goodness of his heart. And that wasn’t easy. You two were a handful, especially your sister. She was wild and out of control.”
“She was not out of control.”
“She required a strict hand.”
There was a difference between a heavy hand and abuse, but she wasn’t going there. Not with Brody suddenly looking ready to do some violence of his own. “I have work to do.”
“Yeah.” Carefully, Tiny Tim took the hammer out of her hand and set it down. “Maddie was most definitely different. She’d have had the balls to come at me with that thing. She had a set of cajones, that girl. Not to mention more curves on her bones than you.” He looked her up and down. “Though that’s changing a little bit now. Guess marriage is agreeing with you.” He reached out to touch, and two things happened simultaneously: Brody straightened to attention, and Maddie smacked Tiny Tim’s hand away herself.
“Don’t touch,” she said through her teeth.
“Married,” Brody said through his.
With a last careless shrug, Tiny Tim left.
The tension didn’t. In fact, the silence was oppressive. Pretending she didn’t feel it, she pulled the stool out from beneath the worktable.
“Well, wasn’t that a nice little walk down memory lane for you.”
Not fooled for one instant by the calm cool in his voice, she sat at the stool and resisted setting her head down on the table and giving in to a moment of self-pity.
She didn’t do self-pity.
Ever.
Spreading out the designs, she didn’t look at him. She didn’t need to in order to sense his escalating tension and anger. It was in his careful control of his every movement.
“You okay?” he asked.
Lifting her head, she met his gaze.
He’d asked the question softly, but she could tell he was doing his best not to tear something apart.
“Yes.” She had no choice but to be okay. The two of them were locked in down here; she knew that without checking the door.
They’d remain here until Rick decided she’d done enough work for the time being, or maybe he wouldn’t send anyone for them until she was completely finished.
Or maybe he’d figure out she wasn’t Leena and he wouldn’t come at all. Yeah, she was okay . . .
Except she wasn’t. She was the opposite of okay, really, because she couldn’t breathe and the walls were closing in on her.
Brody took a step toward her, but she held up a hand to ward him off.
Because she was fine.
Suffocating but fine.
“Fuck this,” she heard as if from a great distance, and then two strong, warm arms slipped around her.
She closed her eyes. A silly defense, she knew. Silly, and pathetic, but she still couldn’t breathe. “Brody?”
“Yeah?”
“Promise you won’t say I told you so.”
“Why would I say that?”
“Because I’m going to say something.” She set her head on his chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Cupping her jaw, he tilted it up to his, and then those pewter eyes were holding hers, his fierce and determined. “I won’t throw that back in your face until this is over.”
“Fair enough.”
“You’re not breathing.”
“Trying.”
“Try harder.”
She did, and he waited patiently, nodding when she managed. “Okay, then. Let’s get this over with.”
It was exactly what she needed. If he’d given any more sympathy or worse yet, pity, she’d have probably fallen apart.
And he knew it.
Knew her.
God, she could really fall for him.
Damn it.
Slapping his hands away, she stepped back and faced the table. She had work to do.
And a plan to get back to.
If she ever found Leena, that is . . .
“You can do this.”
Yeah. He stood just behind her, so strong and sure.
So capable.
Fitting so effortlessly into her life the past two days. Walking away from him was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done. But she’d face that when she got there. With new resolve, she reached for the bezel and gold sheet and got to work.
Chapter 21
Wearing goggles and a thick apron, Maddie hunched over that worktable for four hours, and for most of that time, Brody watched her, stunned by the amount of work involved in creating a piece of jewelry.
About an hour in, Tiny Tim brought a tray of fancy finger sandwiches that were nothing but a bite each.
He’d have rather had McDonald’s.
“Trust me,” Maddie told him at one point, the goggles magnifying her baby blues to huge proportions. “This really shouldn’t be taking this long.”
Meaning Leena could have done it faster. But certainly not better, for Maddie paid excruciating attention to detail, and he supposed she had to. It had to look professional. Better than professional.
It had to look designer.
Brody didn’t envy her the job, but he sure as hell wished he could help because he was not used to standing around with nothing to do but worry.
“Nearly there,” Maddie told him. “I just have to solder the bezel and ornamental border onto the gold sheet.” When she’d done that, she reached for a small handheld saw. “And cut around the border so the edges aren’t visible from the front.” She tapered the backing sheet so that it flowed smoothly into the round wire border. “The stone is translucent,” she murmured, head bent over her work, goggles in place, tongue caught between her teeth in concentration, “so the light can enter the stone from behind.” She stopped and shook her head at herself as if surprised to find she’d remembered more than she’d thought.
“You ever think about cutting some corners?” And speeding this process up? he continued to himself.
She tipped her goggles up to her forehead and slanted him a look. Her shiny auburn hair was standing straight up above the oversized, thick goggles, and there was just something about the way she sat there looking like a tech geek that revved his engines.
Unbelievable, but even here in the middle of deep shit trouble, she did him in.
“You can’t cut corners,” she said.
He arched a brow, implying that yeah, she could, and maybe she should. After all, maybe if she did some shoddy work, Rick’s little game would be exposed. And how in the hell that would be a bad thing was beyond him. Leena would be incriminated, but surely, she could come up with some sort of a plea that the law would buy.
And yet he could tell by the look on Maddie’s face that it wasn’t a ga
mble she was willing to take.
Finally, Maddie stepped back from the worktable and dusted off her hands. She stood there a moment and let out a long breath, then moved to the white telephone on the wall. “Done,” she said into it and hung up.
Tiny Tim showed up in less than five minutes.
“Charter boat,” Maddie said. “Now.”
Tiny Tim shook his head. “Wind’s up. Got an advisory. The boat’ll be here at seven AM but not before.”
That was not good news.
They were led back to Leena’s room, with Brody sticking tight to Maddie, his hand on the small of her back. She shot him a look, but he didn’t give a shit. Until they were out of here, and by that, he meant off this fucking island and back on the continental US of A, he was peanut butter to her jelly.
Because no way in hell was he giving anyone another chance to touch her, feel her up, or so much as insinuate violence.
He was done with all of it. Done with pretending to be quiet and meek, done with pretending not to care when people leered at her, done with pretending not to know that this entire compound was filled with criminals. Bullshit, all of it, and he was getting her out before anything happened.
As they crossed the main living room toward the stairs, they saw Rick sitting on an artful but probably incredibly uncomfortable love seat with a woman on either side of him. All three were in bathing suits, holding drinks, laughing.
Rick’s gaze landed on Maddie, though he didn’t say a word to her.
Nor she to him. At least not with her mouth, but her eyes said plenty. Mostly I hate you and die a slow, painful death.
Rick smiled.
And Brody actually shivered. Jesus, this place was really creeping him out, and he hadn’t spent his first sixteen years here. He could only imagine what it was doing to Maddie and how she felt.
When they were alone in Leena’s bedroom, Maddie went directly toward the bathroom, kicking off first one boot, hopping on her bare foot to pull off the other, making sure the knife stayed hidden. Reaching in, she grabbed the knife, letting the boot drop, moving with great purpose.
“What are you doing?”
Ignoring the question, she slid off her myriad of silver bracelets, leaving them on the dresser by the bathroom door.
“Hello?”
She didn’t even look at him.
“Goddamnit.” He grabbed her arm just as she would have slammed the bathroom door on his nose. Pulling her around to face him, he looked into her eyes and found the answer to his unspoken question. No. She was not okay.
She pulled free, and he let her because he was not interested in a wrestle session. At least not unless they were off this island and naked.
Very naked.
Without a word, she walked into the bathroom and once again, turned on the shower and the sink and flushed the toilet. She pulled off her necklace. “I’m taking a shower.”
Okay. He could understand that. Except. . . “I thought there’s a chance we’re being watched.”
“Not in the bathrooms.” She ripped off her top, then leaned in to whisper in his ear. “You should know, I have plans for tonight.”
Her words didn’t register for several heart-stopping seconds due to the fact that she was wearing a bright pink bra edged in black silk, complete with a bow between her breasts, breasts that were full and creamy smooth, threatening to spill out with her every movement as she reached up to pin her hair on top of her head.
“It shouldn’t take long,” she added.
Since most of his brain cells had ceased to function, he was definitely working with less than a full deck. “What shouldn’t?”
Her hands went to the button on the waistband of her skirt. “I’ll show you later.”
“Now’s better.”
She looked at him as if he was a very stupid man, then put her mouth back to his ear. “I’m going to break into Rick’s office and try to get proof of his illegal activities to take with us in the morning.”
Christ, that was a spectacularly dangerous idea. He hated this. Well, he loved the stripping part, especially how that gorgeous, willowy, curvy bod was shimmying out of that skirt, but hated everything else. “Maddie.”
She dropped her skirt.
His jaw nearly fell as well. It made no sense—he’d already seen her naked. Hell, he’d kissed every inch of her naked, and yet here he stood, rooted to the spot, instantly galvanized by the sight of her in her underwear like he was a horny teenager who’d never gotten lucky except by his own fist.
Her panties were little boy-cut shorty shorts, matched the bra, and like everything else about her, just about did him in. Low on her hips and cut to a deep V in front, they dipped low enough to give him heart failure, and that was before she turned her back on him to check the water temperature, bending over the tub to do so, revealing the back, which rode up so high that half of that gorgeous, mouthwatering ass was revealed in all its perfection.
And she was perfection. His secret fantasy. Actually, maybe not so secret as he stood there probably drooling and most definitely hard enough to strain the button fly on his jeans. He pulled her in close under the guise of wanting to kiss her. “Let’s just get out of here in one piece.”
“There’s no boat until morning anyway. Now move. I have to get this off me.”
Nothing marred her skin except the surgery scar across her shoulder. Nothing but creamy, smooth skin and long, sleek, toned muscles, all put together in the most feminine, sexy package he’d ever seen. “What off you?”
“The ickiness.” She reached up and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Turning to face the water, she stuck her thumbs into the sides of her panties and slid them down as well.
And whatever brain cells he’d managed to retain went crack, snap, pop and promptly fried themselves.
Oblivious, she stepped into the shower and grabbed the soap, which she proceeded to rub between her hands and then briskly spread over her body. Up and down her legs, her arms, her belly, ribs, and those perfect breasts. Leaning in, he whispered, “Snooping could get us killed.”
“No.” She whispered, too, so low he had to stay close, getting wet. “He needs me. Well, me as Leena. He won’t kill her.”
Since he could think of several things—hundreds of things—that could be just as bad as not killed, this wasn’t exactly a comfort.
She was still vigorously rubbing that soap over herself as if she really could eradicate whatever memories were torturing her by skinning herself alive. Admittedly mesmerized by the sight of that gorgeous flesh all wet and soapy, he had to shake that off. “Your skin is getting red.”
She didn’t stop. The solution was simple enough. Kicking off his shoes, he tugged off his shirt and shucked his pants.
All for the cause.
She looked up again when he stepped into the shower with her, her gaze taking him in, slowing in the region of his chest, his abs, and then a little lower, which stroked his ego.
Water sluiced over the both of them, blessedly hot and hard enough to pound away some of the stress of the day. She scooted back to give him some room but that’s not what he wanted, not when she was shiny and slicked up, bubbles and water pouring over those breasts, down her belly, between her legs.
He wanted to be between those legs. Wanted to feel, wanted to look, wanted to taste—
