Against the Wind (11 page)

“Where are you taking me?” she questioned after her first relief had worn off, following him docilely enough around the corner and down one dark, narrow alleyway of a hall.

He didn’t bother to turn back this time, and his voice was distantly amused. “To your quarters for the night,” he replied. “My bedroom.”

It did her no good at all to pull away from him as he dragged her down the hallway. He took no more notice of her than if she’d been a recalcitrant child. The hallway was shadowy and deserted, dust and the ominous sound of scratching, scurrying things adding to her rising sense of unease.

“I’m not going to sleep with you, Murphy,” she said, her voice quietly defiant.

He didn’t even bother to look back. The flimsy wooden door opened easily beneath his strong hand, and a moment later she was pulled into a small, barren room, the door slamming shut behind them. A dim light bulb illuminated the shabby confines, the narrow, sagging bed that was neatly made, the roughly made dresser with its scraps of paper and change, the small pile of books by the bed. It looked like a monk’s cell.

“I don’t give a damn whether you sleep or not,” Jake replied, releasing her wrist. “I don’t expect you will.”

Somehow that seemed even more ominous. He looked tall and dark and very dangerous in the dimly lit bedroom, and it took all Maddy’s determination not to let him frighten her.

She managed a cynical smile. “Are you planning to rape me?”

Jake’s look would have withered a far braver woman. “No. I’m planning to ensure myself a good night’s sleep. Since it appears I can’t trust anyone to keep a good watch on you, I’m going to have to do it myself.”

“If you’re watching me how will you be able to sleep?”

His smile wasn’t reassuring. “I’m going to tie you to the bed. You won’t be able to unfasten the ropes without waking me.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Spare me your dramatics. I’d dare just about anything,” he said in a weary voice. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“No!”

“No? If I were you I wouldn’t let pride and temper let you in for an even more uncomfortable night than I’ve already got planned. I won’t take too kindly to being woken up at three in the morning to take you to the bathroom.” His face and voice were implacable, and no more threat was necessary. “Do you need to go or not?”

It would have been stupid beyond belief to say no again. Her eyes felt swollen and gritty from the contact lenses, and if her bladder wasn’t in immediate need she certainly wasn’t going to last the night. Besides, there might be a window or another unguarded doorway to the bathroom. They were on the second floor—one flight away from her father.

“Yes.” She glared at him. “And I need my purse.”

“Why? You don’t have any kind of weapon in there—I checked.”

She’d already seen him pawing through her purse, but his offhanded announcement infuriated her anyway. “I need my contact lens case.”

For a moment he paused, arrested, and those distant hazel eyes of his looked into hers. “Oh,” he said, and his voice sounded strange, like a man who’d just found the answer to a puzzle. Before she could even begin to guess what was going on behind his impassive face he shrugged. “You’ll have to make do with two water glasses. I don’t know where your purse is any more.”

“But my passport, my money …”

“I have your passport, Allison Henderson,” he replied with that cynical grin. “I imagine Carlos has your money. For now you’ve got more important things to worry about.”

“Such as?”

“Such as how you’re going to manage to sleep with your wrists tied to the bedpost.” Once more his hand clamped around her wrist like a manacle as he started for the door.

“Why don’t you just use handcuffs?” she snapped, making no effort to break away this time. She’d already learned it was useless.

“I would but I don’t happen to have any. I’m going to have to make do with rope,” he replied in that raspy voice that had once delighted her. “Do you want me to tie you up now? It might make your time in the bathroom somewhat difficult.”

“What? You aren’t coming in with me?” she said in her snottiest voice. “I can’t believe that you’d trust me.”

“I don’t.” He’d stopped outside a narrow door halfway down the hall. “But considering there’s no window and no other exit, I’ll take the chance. Unless you want me to come in?”

She didn’t dignify that with an answer. She slammed the door behind her, noting with despair the lack of a simple lock. The room was small and dark and dirty, and
she went through her ablutions hurriedly, washing her face and patting it dry with the loose tail of her cotton tunic. A sharp rap on the door made her jump, and a moment later Jake’s strong hand appeared through the crack with two dirty glasses.

She accepted them without a word of thanks, slamming the door shut, half hoping she’d catch his wrist in it. But he was too fast for her, and she had to content herself with the noise it made.

If she’d felt impotent and angry before, taking out her colored contact lenses made it far, far worse. She could see, but things tended to take on a blur around the edges, and the lack of sharpness to her vision tended to leave her feeling vulnerable and unarmed. Leaning over the small, dirty sink, she stared at her reflection, at the eyes that were now a chocolate brown rather than green in her narrow, exhausted face. She’d managed to wash the sweat streaks off, but beneath the golden tan the pallor of exhaustion and fright lurked. Her eyes were wide and far too expressive, and her pale mouth looked much too helpless. She gritted her teeth, hoping for a stronger look. It only made her look more frightened.

Without warning the door opened. “Come along, lady,” Jake drawled. “Time for bed.”

She turned to look up at him, blinking rapidly through her near-sighted eyes. “I don’t suppose you could find my extra pair of glasses either?”

He shrugged. “Maybe tomorrow. You won’t be needing to see anything tonight.”

With a docility she hated, she followed him back down the hallway to the small room. “Are you alone on this floor?”

“We’re alone,” he corrected. “And only in this wing. The others are within screaming distance.”

“And will they respond if I scream?” She wouldn’t let him frighten her, she told herself fiercely.

He shut the door behind them, leaning back against it, and a smile played about his mouth. “I was thinking you’d be happier if it was me screaming.”

“I’d like that fine.”

“Well, that’ll give you something to fantasize about while you’re trying to sleep,” he replied, unmoved. “You can daydream about getting your revenge on my unrepentant soul. In the meantime, take off your clothes.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Take off your clothes. I have no intention of sleeping with someone wearing all that. Nights are hot here.” He moved away from the door, and for a moment she considered running for it, then gave up the idea. He’d catch her before she was even halfway to the door. Those hazel eyes of his saw everything and more. He was rummaging through the rough-hewn dresser, and a moment later he tossed her a soft cotton shirt. “You can wear this. It should be cool enough.”

“Go to hell, Murphy.”

“Of course I can always undress you myself. You won’t like it, but then, pleasing you is not a very high priority with me right now.”

She didn’t doubt him for a moment. “Could you leave the room?”

“Not without tying you up, and you’d have a hell of a time changing with your wrists bound.”

She tried again, a little desperately. “Could you turn your back?”

He let out a weary, long-suffering sigh, and without a word turned his back. “Now,” he ordered.

She stood very still in the center of the room, fighting against anger and fear and panic. Even with his back
turned she felt vulnerable. She knew very well he would undress her if she refused; he certainly was going to tie her to the bed. The very thought was humiliating, and yet for some strange reason Murphy seemed to be trying to make it less so. His attitude was very matter-of-fact, free from sexual innuendoes or any other kind of sexual threat. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended.

She had no choice. Slowly she began to undo the shirt, a button at a time, keeping her eyes downcast. Not that it would matter, she thought wryly. He could watch her if he wanted and there was nothing she could do about it. She’d just undress quickly and efficiently and put on the enveloping shirt he’d thrown at her, and if he was standing there peeking with a salacious grin on his face she wouldn’t have to see it.

Without hesitation she pulled her shirt over her head, wincing slightly as her rib pained her. She reached for Jake’s shirt, determined to remove her bra only when she was modestly covered with the new clothing, when he moved quickly, and she had to accept the fact that he’d been watching her after all.

She was unprepared, and for a moment she thought he was going back on his promise not to rape her. She shrieked, but the hands that caught her arms were gentle, not rough, and up close she could see that the expression on his dark, shuttered face was a deep, concerned anger, not unbridled lust.

“How did this happen?” His voice was low and gravelly as his long, warm fingers delicately probed her rib cage beneath the lacy bra.

She winced, looked down, and winced again. A large purple bruise had stained her ribs, spreading from where Enrique’s rifle barrel had connected. The sight of his
long, dark fingers moving gently against the bruise gave her an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach, one she told herself was pain.

She still hadn’t answered, and he looked up. It must have been her nearsightedness that made him look like that, she thought. Surely Jake Murphy no longer cared that much for her. He didn’t even know who she was.

“Who did it?” There was no way she could not answer. His voice sounded calm, matter-of-fact as he probed the bruise, and she wondered if she’d imagined that sudden, blinding rage. “Was it Carlos?”

“No. Enrique, when I came through the gate. I dropped my hands for a moment. Maybe he thought I was going for a gun or something.”

“Or maybe he didn’t.” His hands left her, and he reached down for the shirt, tossing it to her. “I don’t think it’s broken. Cracked maybe. We’ll see how you feel tomorrow. If you want I can tape it for you.”

“What about Dr. Milsom?”

“At this hour Doc isn’t much use to anyone.” He turned his back then, moving toward the narrow, deepset window to look out into the darkness. He stood there, motionless, as Maddy quickly made use of the time to pull the clean shirt over her head.

It hurt her rib to snake her arm under and unclasp the bra. She dropped it on the floor, undid her jeans, and slid them down her legs. The shirt came well below her hips, affording her modesty enough, she supposed. She looked back at Jake’s back, opened her mouth to tell him she was ready, then closed it again. He looked dark and removed there in the corner by the window, almost as if he’d forgotten she was there. Why couldn’t she find comfort in the notion?

She picked up her discarded clothes and began folding
them, and at the sound Murphy turned back to her. There was a sudden, constrained silence. “If I promised not to leave, not to try to escape, would you not tie me?” she found herself asking in a quiet voice.

He shook his head. “I can’t take that chance.”

“But you could put a guard outside the door. …”

“There already is one. You’re too persuasive, lady,” he said gently, and she thought she could see real regret in those fathomless eyes of his. “Lie down.”

He had a coil of thin rope in his hands, and as he advanced on her she knew a sudden moment of panic. “Don’t do this, Murphy. Please, I—”

The last trace of sympathy left his impassive face. “Do you want me to have to gag you? Lie down.”

Being tied was bad enough; she thought if he gagged her she’d go mad. It would do her no good to fight, it would only make it worse.

Without another word she lay down on the narrow bed, pulling the cotton shirt down toward her knees. With quick, quiet efficiency he tied her wrists to one plain bedpost, leaving the bonds loose enough not to inhibit circulation.

Her eyes met his for a long, silent moment. “I’ll never forgive you for this,” she said.

“No, I don’t expect you will.” He rose to his full height, looking down at her. “There’ll be a guard at your door so I wouldn’t try anything foolish if I were you.”

“Where are you going?” If his presence was infuriating, his absence was terrifying.

“A question of discipline,” he said in a deceptively mild voice.

Ramon, her mind shrieked. “Don’t kill him.”

Murphy’s smile wasn’t the slightest bit reassuring. “I’ll try not to.” And then he was gone.

She heard the low murmur of voices outside her door, assuring her that she did indeed have a guard. And if it was Luis or Carlos, the last thing she wanted was to have either of them come in and find her bound and helpless in Jake Murphy’s bed.

Except that she wasn’t particularly helpless or tightly bound. If she worked at it for any length of time she could unfasten the loose knots at her wrists. He hadn’t tied her ankles, and she could scrunch up and around into a kneeling position and work on the ropes with her teeth and …

She dismissed the idea. Where would she go at this hour? Jake had taken her neatly folded clothes with him, and she didn’t fancy wandering around that gloomy old fortress dressed in panties and a loose shirt. That expression on his face as he left the room hadn’t augured well for Ramon. Maddy certainly didn’t want to risk having anyone else’s blood on her hands. What would he do to that poor, tired boy? And even if she managed to free her hands for comfort, Jake would only tie her up again.

The dim, spare light bulb had attracted a small swarm of mosquitoes, and it wouldn’t take long before they found the succulent flesh awaiting them on the bed. Maneuvering with her long legs, Maddy slid under the rough-woven sheet, catching the hem with her teeth and pulling it up around her neck. She would be a mass of welts before morning. Well, if that was the worst thing she would suffer that night she’d be doing well.