Cherry Adair - T-flac 03 (7 page)

Smoke drifted lazily about his head. "And nothing bothered you?"

She frowned, not liking the way this conversation was shaping up. "Uh-uh." She deliberately misunderstood. "I doused myself with insect repellent and wore long sleeves." She glanced at Bruno's impassive face, then back to Montero. "It's sweet of you to worry abou—"

"Did he touch you?" Ramon asked conversationally, watching her without a blink. He held out his open hand. Bruno handed him a small silver nail file. Inexorably her gaze moved from the shiny file to the scarlet tip of the cigar and back again. Light glinted off the utilitarian nail file as he worried it between his fingers.

"Who?" She was letting her imagination get carried away, she admonished herself.

"Come here,
mi paloma
," he said so softly, she had to strain to hear him. She hesitated too long. At his nod, Bruno moved forward to grab her wrist, exerting just enough force to show he was willing to break her arm if necessary. As soon as she stood before his boss, Bruno released her, returning to his post.

Montero rose, handed the cigar to his bodyguard and took her face between his icy fingers. He squeezed her cheeks. He did it so gently, so gradually, it took seconds for her to realize just how painful it was.

His liquid black eyes gazed coldly into hers. "Don't ever lie to
me, puta
." His mocking drawl sharpened.

"He touched you. He more than touched you, and you want each other,
verdad
?"

God, his digging fingers hurt. She controlled the desire to flinch, keeping her expression blank. Damned
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if she did. Damned if she didn't. "I have no idea what you're talking about—"

The pressure increased, cutting off the words. She dug her nails into her palm, kept her eyes steady and refused to wince.

"You were about to tell me of your desire for my friend." His head tilted to the side, waiting. Watching.

His other hand came up, as he very gently ran the cold, smooth edge of the fingernail file under her right eye. "Did Kyle admire these pretty eyes, my dove?"

The threat was chillingly effective. "He was out on the patio when I came back from my run," she admitted cautiously. "We talked for a while. Then I came in to shower."

He released her, settled back on the edge of her bed, and waved away Bruno's attempt to hand back his cigar. She swallowed bile; her heart's uneven rhythm throbbed in the fingerprints he'd scored into her cheeks. The delicate skin beneath her right eye felt chilled.

She'd never been intentionally,
physically
injured by anyone in her life. She closed her eyes briefly and conjured up the sound of children in the playground. The sound of giggles and happy laughter—Her heart rate skipped several beats before starting to race painfully.

"Did he put his hands on you?" He resumed cleaning his nails.

She'd forgotten the damned cameras.

"He kissed me." Her heart still beat much too fast. He'd
given
her to Kyle, for God's sake. What did he expect?

"Did he appear to enjoy the experience?" Ramon glanced up, his expression intent, as if her answer held the hope for world peace.

"He seemed to." She fervently hoped that had been the right answer. She ran her finger around the inside of the tightly woven links of her necklace to hold it away from her damp skin.

"Ah." Perfect teeth shone in a brilliant smile. He sounded pleased. "Good. I've known him for many years, he is a brilliant man in his field. The best. A man many fear because of his expertise." Reading between the lines she figured
he
was afraid of Kyle. She didn't want to know just what Kyle's field of expertise was. But she wondered, if Montero
was
afraid of Dr. Death, how the knowledge could help her.

"Kyle and I are like this." He held up twined fingers, his Cobra pinkie ring glinting in the lamplight. "It was my good fortune to persuade him to join me in this venture. He has shown his trust by coming here to my home. Alone."

This was apparently a big deal. Delanie could tell by the almost hero-worship on Ramon's face as he finished softly. "I wanted to return his trust with a gift. A matter of honor, one that a mere woman could not understand."

Delanie waited for the punch line.

He handed the nail file to Bruno, and accepted back the cigar, and drew in smoke, before he said silkily,
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"Your things have been moved to Kyle's room. Make him a happy man."

Sheer force of will helped her hold his gaze as she swallowed the helpless frustration she felt. Keep calm, sound vaguely stupid,
and don't tick him off
.

Intellectually she
knew
there was no reasoning with a psychotic. She held her temper as she'd learned to do, but she couldn't let this go.

"That wasn't the arrangement we made, though, was it, love bug?"

"The arrangement has changed. I want to give Kyle a gift he can use." He gave her a singularly sweet smile. "And you know I always keep my promises."

"So do I." The voice might be pure bimbo, but she made it a promise. "I thought you wanted people to see you had something they couldn't have, sweetie. You insisted I flaunt myself so everyone knew what they were missing. I agreed to play
your
whore, you never said anything about sharing me with your friends." She pouted, wanting to puke.

There was a long silence as he scrutinized her face. She must have done a credible job looking vapid.

"I think my friend Kyle appreciates your assets very much." Obviously prepared to go the extra mile for a friend, he said generously, "Make sure he is kept satisfied, and your benefits will remain the same."

Great. She got to keep the bimbo clothes and jewelry he'd lavished on her. All she had to do was give her body to the devil.

She wouldn't do it.

"You don't understand, sweetie, I don't
want
to have sex with your friend." Delanie struggled to stay in character. The way Montero was watching her right now made her question her sanity in standing up to him.

"My job was to
pretend
. Nobody suspects we aren't sleeping together, do they? You never even suggested the arrangement would change." She was desperate now. She absolutely had to convince him not to give her to Kyle.

"We had a deal." She realized too late that she'd not just shown irritation, she'd done it in her natural voice.

"I don't like your tone,
puta
," he said sharply, black eyes opaque as he tugged at his eyebrow; a habit she'd quickly learned meant he was extremely annoyed.

To him she
was
a whore. She changed her defensive stance, and voice, to meek submission. "I'm sorry, baby, of course I'll do whatever you want." And pigs will fly. "I'm just worried, how will it look if you give
your
girlfriend to one of your associates? I mean, jeez, it's cool if the big boss is the only one with a lady friend, but if you give…" she almost begged. "If you give me to Kyle, the others might think it's unfair and want women, too."

He wasn't buying it. "Kyle is my brother, my
compañero
, my right hand. To insult him is to insult me."

He rose. "Very well,
mi paloma
, I would, of course, never force you against your will."

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Like hell, Delanie thought, swallowing hard.

"Bruno will take you to San Cristobal tonight. I'll have your things sent to you in a few days."

From the merciless look in his black eyes, Delanie knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he'd have her killed before she ever reached the small airstrip behind the house. Would Montero have Kyle dispose of her? What ironic poetic justice
that
would be.

Like a shadow, Bruno followed him to the connecting door.

"I will not tolerate disobedience," Montero continued coldly, his absurdly handsome face flushed. "Do you understand me? I will not tolerate it."

Damn it. Even if he didn't kill her first, there was no way she would ever make it back up here alone through hundreds of miles of jungle.

So, the bottom line? She'd do whatever it took to find Lauren.

"Gee, honey, I didn't know you felt so strongly." The words felt forced through her frozen lips as she struggled to sound humbly contrite. "Of course I'll do whatever you want, sweetie."

"A wise choice." Ramon's benevolent smile showed her capitulation had been a given. "Kyle is waiting for you. Bruno, show Miss Eastman to Dr. Wright's quarters."

The bodyguard reached her in three steps and wrapped an enormous hand around her upper arm.

"I haven't got any clothes on," she pointed out, ignoring the beefy shackle holding her in place. She was
not
going to be delivered to Kyle like some sacrificial offering naked under a flimsy robe.

"What you are wearing will suffice." Montero, obviously bored with the conversation, pulled open the connecting door to his room. "If Kyle permits you to dress, he has access to your clothing." He motioned Bruno to take her and vanished into his own room, leaving behind the acrid smell of smoke and brimstone.

The tampon box lay on the floor by the chair, where she'd dropped it earlier. She glanced up at Bruno's implacable expression. She wasn't going to leave it there.

"I need this." She nudged the box with her bare toe.

He released her for the half second it took to stoop down, shove the box into the pocket of her robe, and grab her canvas bag from the chair. "Okay. I'm ready," she lied through clenched teeth.

Keeping a firm grip on her upper arm, Bruno herded her through the dim house to the wing on the other side of the family quarters. Oblivious to the maze of her chaotically churning thoughts, Bruno was unstoppable. Whatever she was going to do about this situation was going to have to be done behind closed doors.

Kyle's closed
bedroom
door.

Think. Think.

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"Thanks, Data." The quiet sarcasm sailed over his bald head as they stood at the dead end of the corridor outside what was obviously Kyle's suite. Suddenly Bruno's silent bulk seemed reassuring.

"Don't suppose you'd like to hang around?" She regarded him hopefully. He gave her an impassive look, and she sighed. "I kinda thought you'd say that."

Her thumping heartbeat threatened to choke her. She straightened her shoulders under the flimsy silk robe and faced the double doors with her heart pounding and her chin up.

«^»

Bruno reached over Delanie's head and gave the solid wood a sharp rap with a ham-sized fist. She shot him a dark look. She'd have gotten round to knocking. Eventually.

Staring straight ahead, jaw tense, she pulled the robe's lapels up around her throat seconds before the door swung open.

Kyle didn't appear the least bit surprised to see her. Silently he motioned her into the room.

He was fresh from the shower, and the white towel slung around his narrow hips made his skin appear darker by contrast. His hair, wet and slicked back, hung loose down his back and clung to his biceps in dark licks, like question marks. Diamond drops of water glistened in the crisp, dark hair on his chest and arms.

God help her, he looked absolutely delectable.

She glanced back at the door. Every escalating heartbeat throbbed behind her eyes. "Bruno—"

"—is gone." Kyle hitched his hip on the burl writing desk to the right of the door. Behind him, the colors of the small sitting room blended into the shadows. Only the light from the other room illuminated his harsh features and limned the muscles on his arms and chest like a golden caress. An ocean-size bed loomed through the arch leading into the bedroom.

"Was this your brilliant idea?" Delanie asked coolly, pretending she was wearing one of her favorite ankle-length floral skirts and voluminous sweaters instead of the skimpy silk robe. It helped. A little.

He gave her an amused look. "Let me put it this way, jungle girl. I asked Ramon for the favor." Bracing his arms behind him on the desk, he crossed his ankles. "He doesn't need to know it's because I'm not letting you out of my sight until tomorrow."

Caught between a rock and a hard-ass.

At the moment she'd have felt safer covered with honey and running naked through the rain forest.

"I'm touched by your concern. But I'm a big girl. Ramon and I understand one another. I'll just trot back and tell him that you've changed your mind."

Without volition she skimmed the damp towel Kyle wore like a sarong, and the shadows beneath it. Her
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body vibrated with tension, and her ears buzzed. Face flaming, she whipped her gaze back to his face.

He gave her a quizzical look, and asked in a dangerously soft voice, "Just who the hell are you, Delanie Eastman?"

A sexy, vital man like Kyle wouldn't have looked at the real her twice. Her personality was far from submissive. Her body was okay. She exercised and ate right. But her real hair color was brown. Not dark brown, not blonde brown. Just plain old brown. Her eyes were ordinary old brown, too.

And she'd never worn clothes like this in her life. The only time Kyle had ever seen her was when she was wearing her sister's clothes and pretending to be something she was not. Which she intended to continue doing until she was safely back home with Lauren.

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "At the pool this afternoon you were the vamp. At dinner tonight, the seductress.

And now here you are. No makeup on this beautiful skin, no teased and tortured hairdo." He lifted her hand and stroked a thumb down the back of her fingers, making her shiver.

"No long red nails." Still holding her hand, he glanced up with a frown. "You bite your nails. You crunch antacids like you own stock in a pharmaceuticals company… and just looking at me makes you blush.