Absently wiping her mouth against her sleeve, she accepted the hand up he offered. His fingers were hard, filled with strength, and once again she sensed that tension in him. Whatever was bothering him, sex hadn’t taken the edge off. When they were sitting comfortably in the two chairs on either side of the small table on their balcony, he turned to look at her.

“I know who you are, Sandra Vicars,” he said softly. “And I know you’re not a whore, even though you’re doing your best to act like one. Now I need to figure out what to do with you. Valzar wants me to kill you, says I need to do it for my own safety. What other options do you have for me?”

Chapter Seven

She froze, completely unable to think of anything to say. How had he figured it out? She could only think of one way.

“Am I really that crappy in the sack?” she asked.

His face froze and he made a sudden choking noise.

“I can’t believe you just asked that,” he said. “Of all the things you have to worry about right now…”

She bit her lip, realizing he was absolutely right. She wasn’t thinking at all. She didn’t want to think, it was too scary.

“If you just let me go, I promise I won’t tell anyone about you,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t care if they catch you at all. I just want to get out of this alive. Is that so hard for you to believe?”

“I can’t let you go,” he said slowly.

“You don’t trust me, I can understand that,” she said, feeling herself grow hysterical. “But I honestly don’t know anything about you. I don’t even know what country we’re in. I don’t care; I just want to go home!”

She cut herself off abruptly. She needed to calm down, think clearly. This was her big chance to make a case for herself and she couldn’t afford to blow it. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them, peering directly into his.

“Please, let me go,” she said softly.

He shook his head slowly, and she thought she saw genuine sadness there. It puzzled her.

“I can’t let you go, Sandra,” he said slowly. “You’re already dead.”

She cocked her head at him, and then moaned as his words sank in.

“You’re going to kill me right now?” she asked, and something inside snapped. It was too much. She stood abruptly, the chair she’d been sitting in falling to the floor behind her with a loud clanging noise.

Fury filled her. It was time to fight back.

“Fuck you,” she said in a cold voice. “I hope they catch you and kill you. I hope that they stick you in an electric chair and fry you, and if I had the chance I’d push that needle plunger down myself.”

“They don’t use a needle in the electric chair,” he said reasonably, standing and reaching out toward her.

Sandra stumbled back, desperate to get away from him. She wouldn’t go down easy. She balled her fist up and slammed it into his stomach with as much force a she could muster. Pain seared through her clenched hand. She shook it, hissing and trying to catch her breath. Apparently unfazed by her attack, he grabbed her upper arms and shook her.

“Settle down and listen to me,” he said. She responded by lunging forward and biting into the solid muscle of his chest with every bit of strength she had. Her teeth struck deep and true, and she shook her head like a rabid dog, worrying at his flesh. She brought her knee up to attack his groin, but the motion threw her off balance and he managed to block her attack.

“Stop it,” he roared. “Listen to me, I’m not going to hurt you. Please let me explain, and stop biting me.”

The words filtered through to her enraged consciousness. Slowly she let up on her attack. Her jaws held him so tightly she had to will them open, the muscles not responding at first. Then she was free, though she noted with some satisfaction that his shirt was rapidly turning red from blood.

Her teeth had hit home.

Good.

Let him feel some of the pain he’d caused her.

“Calm down,” he said again. She must have looked like a madwoman, and for a moment, hysterical laughter hovered right on the edge of her throat. She swallowed it back with no little difficulty. Listening and staying calm was the key to survival.

“What?” she asked after a long pause, her words sounding harsh and forced even to her.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said. “I said you’re dead already because according to the newspapers in the United States, your body was found this morning, along with mine. Everyone thinks that we were killed together when our plane crashed. If you go back now, they’ll know I’m not dead.”

His words sank in slowly, and she shook her head.

“You can’t just do that,” she said. “I don’t know what bodies you’re talking about, but they’ll realize that it’s not me. I have dental records. They’ll figure it out.”

“No they won’t,” he said. “The people who would be figuring it out, the investigators, are the ones who planted the evidence. Sandra Vicars is dead, and she’ll be buried within a few days. Your family has been notified, as have your neighbors.”

She shook her head slowly, willing his words to go away.

“I don’t want that to happen,” she said slowly. “I was doing something with my life. It isn’t fair for you to simply step in and say that I can’t go back. You shouldn’t be able to take all that away form me.”

“It’s too late for that,” he said softly. “It’s already gone. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I’m sorry for what I did. I won’t go back, though. I’ve already been in jail too long for that. I’m done with that forever. I’m dead, too, and I’m starting life over as a new man.”

“Does that mean you’ll be giving back all the lovely money you earned in your old life?” she asked caustically. “Because this place doesn’t come cheap, I’m relatively certain of that. If you don’t kill me now, when do you plan to do it? After you finished fucking me?”

“That’s what I originally planned,” he said slowly, his eyes boring into hers with cruel honesty. “Then I decided I’d pay you off. Whores expect that. I figured I’d give you enough money to set yourself up some place new and we’d both go on our ways. But I somehow doubt that you’ll be willing to do that.”

She shook her head, thinking.

“Yes, I would,” she said suddenly. “If it means I get to live, I’ll do it in a heartbeat. Please, let me do it.”

“I might let you do that, but I doubt that Valzar would,” he said. “He doesn’t like to leave loose ends lying about, and you’re definitely a loose end. He’s already offered to take care of you for me.”

“Yes, I kind of picked upon that,” she said softly. To her disgust, she could feel moisture welling up in her eyes. She would not cry, not now. She needed to stay strong, to think things through. To convince him that he could trust her. It was her only shot.

“What if I just stay with you for now?” she asked, trying not to sound too coy. “Do we really have to figure all these things out right now? Can’t we just have fun?”

He assessed her coolly, nodding his head.

“We can do that.”

“Good,” she said brightly. “I saw that there was a swimming pool in the other courtyard. Would you like to go swimming?”

“No.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Why don’t we take a nap?” he asked, raising his hands to cup her head. He wiped at her cheeks with his large, strong thumbs, and she felt moisture there. Damn, she’d cried after all. “You seem worn out.”

“I don’t think I can sleep,” she said honestly. “This has been too much for me—my mind just races trying to figure everything out.”

He pulled her against his muscled chest with surprising tenderness.

“You don’t have to get everything figured out right now,” he said. “You can just relax. Sandra, I promise you, if you do as I say you won’t get hurt. But you’re going to have to trust me.”

Fat chance, she thought to herself, but she nodded her head against him. He saw her as helpless, as dependent on him for survival. While that might be true, there was no reason for her to give up that easily.

As long as she was alive, she could fight.

He released her and reached down with one arm behind her knees. Before she quite understood how he’d done it, she was in his arms, being carried across the room as if she were as light as a feather. He laid her down on the bed very gently, lowering himself beside her. He reached around her with one arm, spooning her and tucking her against his body.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said. “I’m going to take care of you. I’m not quite sure what we’ll do just yet, but I’ll find a way for you to stay safe. As long as you’re with me, nobody will be able to touch you.”

His words shouldn’t have been as comforting as they were. He was her enemy, her captor. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be stuck in this situation. But her traitorous body didn’t seem to see things that way, and every particle of her being reveled in being held so close. He was big and strong, warm and safe. She felt so comfortable.

He nuzzled the back of her neck through her hair as his hand wormed its way up beneath her clothing to her breast. He cupped her, squeezing slightly, and her nipple hardened. It seemed unfair that it should feel so good. She felt secure with him touching her, happier than was decent under the circumstances.

His hand burrowed through her hair, and his lips became more insistent. She rolled over into his arms and gave herself up in the comfort of the moment. Life was short—she wanted to feel good.

He responded quickly, rolling her beneath him, and for one brief moment they forgot about the future.