Saint (39 page)

“Uh, certainly.”

The confused surgeon followed Seth. Once
out in the hallway, Seth shut the door so Maria couldn’t overhear their
conversation. “Nice touch with the shrink.”

“I don’t like this, Mr. Harris,” Travis
grated out. “I’m obligated to tell her of her true condition before releasing
her from this hospital.”

“It’s Colonel Harris, Doctor. And if you’d
like to explain your attitude to the Attorney General and the Secretary of
State, be my guest. I’m responsible for her welfare and I say she isn’t ready
to hear it yet. The government invested a lot of time, money and manpower on
this case. Would you like to be the one to tell them you went against my direct
orders and, in keeping with your obligation, caused her to have an emotional
relapse? Or would you like me to relay the information?”

Suspicion clouded Travis’s eyes. “I haven’t
yet received confirmation that she is, indeed, under Witness Protection.”

“You won’t. That’s what Witness Protection
is all about. The way I see it, you have three choices. You can get on the
phone and spend eternity getting the runaround—and while you’re still on hold,
Maria will disappear. Or you can march through that door and tell her the
truth, then deal with the consequences. Or we can do it my way. Either way, she’s
leaving.”

Travis wavered for a moment, mulling over
his protest and Seth’s words. Probably the effect it might have on his career,
as well. Seth knew the minute he had the good doctor in his pocket. It still
amazed him how easily civilians were bluffed.

“I’ll have the nurse get the discharge
papers and post-op instructions together. I take it the government is picking
up the tab?”

“Payment has already been arranged through
a private organization. You have thirty minutes to get your paperwork in order.”

Travis turned to walk away, hesitating at
the last minute to ask. “You’ll make sure she’s taken care of?”

“She’s in the best of hands.”

Nodding curtly, Travis made his way briskly
down the corridor to the nurse’s station.

He had two months, three at the most, to
bring Maria back to life. And he was going to use every dirty trick in the book
to do it. It felt good to have purpose again.

* * * * *

He helped Maria dress, then excused himself
with the explanation he had to take care of the discharge paperwork. Making his
way to the nearest pay phone, Seth called Gabe. “I’d like Dr. Travis to get a
call from the Pentagon.”

“You don’t want much, do you?” Gabe’s
usually sarcastic tone had changed over the last weeks. Devoid of underlying
hostility for the most part, it now held a hint of humor.

“Yeah, I know it’ll be a stretch for you to
pretend to be crabby, but somehow I think you’ll manage. Oh and I need a favor.”

“Name it.”

“The jet.”

“Where to?”

“Mississippi.”

There was silence on the other end of the
line for a moment. “You’re kidding, right? You’re going to give up the mountain
to live in that backwater swamp?”

“Do I get the jet or not?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’ll be fueled and ready for
take-off when you get to the airport.”

“I’m glad things are working out for you,
Gabe.”

“Thanks.”

“Take care.”

“You do the same, Colonel.”

“Seth,” he insisted. “It’s just Seth.”

He headed back to Maria’s room.
Irresponsible, he’d called her. He was one to talk, he thought acidly. He’d let
her get in too deep to save himself from doing the same. Now she would pay the
price. No matter what he did or how much he tried to protect her, he would never
be able rid her of the memories and the images seared into her brain.

He wondered, as he pushed open the door to
her room, how the hell she had managed to keep the deranged Nina from hacking
her to pieces. The smell alone in that underground chamber was enough to drive
a person insane. “Ready to go?”

She glanced down at the calf-length printed
dress he’d helped her get into earlier, then back at him. “You couldn’t find
something a little louder?”

True, the loose-fitting day dress was busy,
not in keeping with the type of clothes Lolita said Maria normally preferred.
But dark colors were depressing so they were out of the question. “When you’re
able to get around better we’ll go shopping and you can pick out whatever you
want.”

“Shopping?” she repeated blankly.

“Is there a woman alive who doesn’t like to
shop?”

She wasn’t going to rise to the bait. “Whatever.”

Done with the emotion of anger for now, she
retreated behind indifference and stayed there throughout the plane flight.

* * * * *

Mississippi

They spent the first week settling into a
routine of sorts. Disinterest was the emotion of the week.

Maria seemed determined to keep what she
considered a safe distance from him, physically, mentally, and emotionally.
Seth tackled the physical aspect first, touching her at every opportunity,
forcing closeness to let her know in both word and action that he was there and
wouldn’t be ignored.

The next week he shoved paint samples and
fabric swatches beneath her nose and nagged until she gave in and picked one.
Furniture brochures and magazines came next. When she balked at choosing a
bedroom suite, he wasn’t above invading her bathroom privacy and ended up with
a canopied cherry suite straight out of the middle ages. He could live with it.

Time was his enemy now and two weeks was as
long as he was willing to give her for complete indifference. The next step was
pushing past the intimacy barrier. All the same emotions she’d felt toward him
were still there, hovering beneath the surface. He just had to find a way to stimulate
those feelings. To date, she’d responded warily, stiffening at the slightest
touch.

That night when she crawled into bed and
turned her back on him, he took a mentally deep breath and slid his hand
beneath her gown.

Focus. Make her body need yours.

He felt her thighs tremble as he nudged
them apart, taking the time to breathe in her scent, taste her skin, murmur
between kisses how much he’d missed what she’d taught him to crave. Just when
he was about to abort the attempt—because short of raping her there wasn’t
anything else he could do—she moaned, giving in to the need her body
recognized.

But it was only her body that participated
in the joining. Maria kept herself distanced from him. Seth took solace in the
fact he hadn’t been lying when he predicted he could wear her down.

The body sweats and depression set in soon
after. The expression on her face said just the thought of facing another day
was cause for contemplating slitting her wrists.

Several mornings later he leaned over and
braced a hand on the other side of her waist, trapping her against the pillow. “Did
you pray for death while you sat in that rancid cell?”

The direct question startled her. She had
mistakenly assumed he would let her bury it. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
“No. What’s for breakfast?”

He ignored her attempt to change the
subject. “What did you pray for?”

“What makes you think I prayed for
anything?”

“There was little else to do except hope
for a blessedly quick end to the torture.”

“I wasn’t tortured.”

“Yes you were. In the worst way imaginable.
People think it’s only bodily torture that turns the mind inside itself, but
they’re wrong.” He went on to explain. “Prolonged pleasure can do as much
damage as pain. Complete silence in a cramped, enclosed space and the mind can
permanently shut down various bodily functions that shouldn’t have been
affected. Betrayal, simple rejection, can snap the thread between reason and
temporary insanity.

“You could have committed suicide if you’d
wanted. It wouldn’t have taken much courage to use another victim’s serrated
bones to cheat the reaper and God knows you had plenty of choice bones to pick
from. But you didn’t, Ria. You chose to fight.”

Her face blanched white and her breathing
was reduced to small gasps. Revulsion glittered in her eyes.

“You never even considered suicide,” he
stated firmly. Maria was a lot of things, but she wasn’t a quitter. “You
prayed. What for?”

“Deliverance,” she choked out.

He lowered his forehead against hers. “You’re
going to make it, baby. Now,” he brushed his lips against hers, “what do you
want for breakfast?”

Chapter Seventeen

Dying would have been easy compared to
living with Seth Harris. She didn’t know this Seth, had never seen this side of
him.

He kept her busy throughout the days,
helping him in whatever room he was working on at present, giving her no time
to brood or think. Oddly enough, he didn’t lose his temper easily nowadays. But
Maria could remember a time when anger had fueled his existence. But now… When
she was angry, he was indifferent. When she was indifferent, he killed her with
kindness. He was there to comfort her at night when she woke from a nightmare,
unable to breathe. He made her do the exercises Dr. Travis prescribed to
strengthen her thigh muscles. And he shoved vitamins and healthy food down her,
so much food that she was beginning to put on a few extra pounds.

Along with the healing of her physical
wounds, blessed numbness set in and she desperately wanted to cling to it.
There was no pain, no fear, no emotion at all—except in her dreams. There was
nothing. And that numbness was what enabled her to get through day after day.
She was…existing.

“Stay out of the dining room today,” he
said over breakfast a few days later.

“Why?”

“I’m painting.”

“So?”

“Too many fumes.”

He closed off the sliding wooden doors and
threw open the windows while he worked. His ordering her to stay out was the
exact reason she didn’t. She wasn’t one of his sad-sack recruits.

“I told you to stay out,” he said over his
shoulder when she entered the pale-mauve room.

She ignored the edict, wandering around the
room. Next he would be on her to pick out a dining room table. It was while she
was absently gazing out the window that something wet splattered against her
back.

Maria spun around, realizing he’d flung
paint on her from the brush in his hand. The surprise on her face must have
come only seconds to the shocked gasp she let out when he sent yet another
spray of paint drops flying. This time her face and the front of her dress took
the brunt of it.

And he had the utter gall to flash her a
lopsided grin! “I told you to stay out. Now you’ll have to go change.”

Without thinking, she took two steps,
picked up the open paint can and slung the contents onto him, snorting her
satisfaction. His grin was replaced by a look of disbelief.

“You look ridiculous,” she observed wryly.
The mauve paint dripped from his hair, face and clothes onto the plastic
covering the floor.

He swiped the paint from his face, arching
an eyebrow. “Are you laughing at me?”

She sobered immediately. “No.”

“You threw almost a whole can of paint on
me.”

“You threw paint on me first.”

He started stripping off his clothes,
swiping paint from his face before dropping them piece by piece on the plastic.
He grabbed a rag to swipe across his face and through his hair.

Maria backed away cautiously. “What are you
doing?”

“I’m going to take a shower. And you’re
going to help me.” He caught her by the hand and led her up the stairs and into
the master bath. There, he removed her dress and underwear and pulled her
beneath the warm water. He placed the soap in her palm, eyes glittering
wickedly. “Wash me.”

Maria reached for the washrag, but he
caught her hand and brought it his chest.

“With your hands.”

She soaped his chest as he leaned back into
the spray, rinsing the water-soluble paint from his face and hair. He didn’t
hide the fact he enjoyed her hands on him as they roamed slickly across his
shoulders and arms, down his back and legs. His thick, aroused penis stood out,
flexing in anticipation long before she ever reached the solid muscle of his
buttocks. She soaped the length of him, fondling the tightening sac beneath
with soapy fingers until he groaned.

He watched every move with hungry eyes, thrusting
into her hand when it closed around him. But he wasn’t content to let her hand
bring release. Lacing his fingers through hers, he used his body to pin her
against the cool tile and fed from her mouth until she too, was caught up in
the heat of the moment.

Bending to retrieve the lost bar of soap,
he lathered her breasts, flicking the overly sensitive nipples to attention.
Then he sluiced a handful of warm water over them and suckled, rubbing his
erection against her abdomen.