Body Contact (13 page)

“You've provided her services to other guests, I take it?”

“Of course. Usually, it's the guest who elects to screw her afterwards. And I enjoy
his
lady.” He spread his hands. “But if you feel more comfortable sticking with your own partner, I understand entirely.” He crossed his leg, clasped his hand around his knee. Probably his pants were binding him at the moment.

“I sense that you're a man of strong sexual appetites,” Reynard went on. “But being brought up in the land of puritanism, you might have felt constrained to follow conventional patterns in the past. That's not necessary on Orchid Island. Really, I cultivate a very uninhibited atmosphere here, both for myself and my guests. I can provide anything you want. I mean
anything.
If you'd like a stunningly beautiful girl to join you and Maddy in bed this
afternoon, you have only to ask. And if you feel that Maddy has been a bad girl, and you'd like to experiment with some interesting forms of punishment, then I've got a facility you'll want to see.”

“What kind of facility?”

“A very realistic dungeon. Would you like a tour? Some of my guests go there first thing on arrival.”

“Yes, yes I would like to see it,” Jack answered, ruthlessly ignoring the feeling of pressure building in his chest. He was stalling for time, of course. Because sooner or later he was going to have to give Reynard an answer to his earlier proposal. But perhaps he could make it look like he was so excited by all the tantalizing prospects that had been laid on the table that he was having trouble deciding which to pick.

Reynard inclined his head, studying Jack for a moment before standing. “Perhaps I've hit on one of your secret desires. Let's go have a look at my playrooms. If you want to bring Maddy down there, you can use the equipment yourself. Or you might want to watch someone else working her over. A man or a woman. Your choice.” He paused. “Or you might like to practice on some other woman—or a man.”

“I'm not interested in men,” Jack snapped, fighting another wave of revulsion.

But Reynard must have caught the flash of something ugly in his eyes.

“I didn't mean to offend,” his host said quickly. “I'm only trying to explore every option. Orchid Island is a place where anything you can imagine can become reality.”

“Yeah.” Jack pushed himself to his feet, struggling to keep an expectant look on his face as he followed Reynard out the door and down the hall. He was thinking about
how to slip his mind into neutral gear so he could endure the tour without throwing up.

 

J
UANITA HAD TOLD HER
to come back, Maddy thought as she stepped into the spa. But getting her nails redone so soon might look suspicious.

The hairdressers were busy with other guests, so she asked about the other services available, hoping the woman did more than nails.

She'd mentioned to Jack that she might get a facial. Now she thought, why not? It would keep her here for a while. So she'd entered the dressing room and exchanged her shorts and top for a light pink robe. Then she'd let the receptionist show her to a cubicle that overlooked a lushly planted patio.

As she settled into a padded chair that reminded her of the dentist's office, she decided that she didn't have to stick with questioning Juanita. She could try to get information out of any of the women here—if she kept the questions indirect, the way she had yesterday.

That goal proved elusive, however, when she tried to start a conversation with Sarita, the attendant giving her the facial. Either Sarita spoke minimal English, or someone had warned her not to talk to Jack Craig's woman.

She hoped it was the former explanation. Because the implications were chilling if she was being talked about at the spa. It meant that she'd drawn attention to herself yesterday. And that wasn't good.

All at once she felt trapped. The feeling intensified as Sarita said, “You must close eyes now. You no want this in your eyes.”

It would look really weird if she backed out now, so she obeyed and felt small cups being placed over her closed lids. Then the woman began smoothing some kind of heavy goop over her face.

“You wait twenty minutes,” Sarita said when she had finished.

Maddy gave a small nod, but she felt frighteningly vulnerable. If someone wanted to hurt her, this would be the perfect opportunity.

She forced herself to lie there in the recliner, eyes closed, trying to control her breathing and her tension. Finally, she heard the woman's footsteps recede, and she let out a little sigh, then considered that Sarita might be standing in the doorway, still watching her.

Her hands clamped over the armrests, until she deliberately eased the pressure and knit her fingers in her lap.

Twenty minutes, she told herself. Only twenty minutes. Deliberately she went through one of the relaxation exercises that she used when she had the time. But it was hard to concentrate with the skin of her face tingling and her nerves stretched taut.

She couldn't rid herself of the feeling that someone was watching her. When light footsteps sounded again, her whole body stiffened, and she prepared to leap out of the reclining chair.

“It's all right. Stay still,” a low voice ordered. “I'm just coming to check you.”

She sensed a presence bending over her. Then a hand closed over hers and she felt something being thrust into her fingers. A folded piece of paper.

“Hide it,” the voice whispered.

She tried to speak, but she could only make an inarticulate sound as she thrust the hand with the note into her pocket, hoping that if there was a camera in the room, the body bending over hers had hidden the note from view.

In a silent rush of movement that stirred currents in the air, the person was gone. Eyes squeezed closed, she fingered the note in her pocket. Every cell of her body burned to know what it said, but there was no way to do
it now. All she could do was lie there and feel the minutes drag by.

She jumped when she heard Sarita's voice again.

“Let's take that mask off you.”

“Um.”

“It feels tight, no?”

“Um.”

The woman gently peeled the hardened stuff off her skin. When the cups came off her eyes, she blinked. Somehow it was a surprise to see that the room looked exactly the same.

“Your face feels good?”

“Yes.” She took the mirror and inspected her features. As far as she could see, she didn't look much different. Well, maybe her skin was firmer. And it did feel fresh and clean. But it wasn't a treatment she'd pay for back home with her own hard-earned cash.

Of course, there weren't
any
beauty treatments that she paid for—beyond a basic haircut every few weeks.

“What else can we do for you?”

She glanced at her watch. “Well, I'd like to stay. But I think my guy is waiting for me back at the villa.”

The beautician opened her mouth, then closed it again with one of those looks that said, “The customer is always right.”

“Maybe later.”

She hurried into the dressing room, then thought of the cameras again. So she slipped into a toilet stall. But she was still nervous about opening the note. So while she was unwinding a length of toilet paper, she managed to bend over and block the view of her other hand as she got it out of the dressing gown pocket.

When she pulled up her panties again, she transferred the note to the elastic band. Finally, as she faced the row of lockers, she slipped on her shorts and covered the note.

As she quickly stepped out of the locker room, she caught sight of Juanita staring at her. The woman met her eyes for a second, then turned quickly away, leaving Maddy no wiser than she'd been before. She didn't even know if Juanita was the one who had given her the paper. All she knew was that she had to read the message as soon as she could—then somehow tell Jack what it said.

Intent on that mission, she headed for the entrance. Just as she was about to escape into the sunlight, she caught sight of herself in one of the mirrors—and groaned. Her face might be glowing with mud-induced health, but her hair was still a mess from last night in the shower. She'd totally forgotten about her reason for coming here in the first place. What's more, she knew that the woman she was supposed to be would never leave the spa with her hair looking like it had been commandeered for a parrot's nest.

So she took a breath, then turned and made her way to the front desk, smiling.

“Sorry. I was so focused on getting back to my guy that I forgot all about my hair. Are the hairdressers free? Could one of them do a wash, dry and comb out for me? Something simple that won't take too long. 'Cause Jack and I have plans.”

“Certainly. We'll be with you in just a few minutes.”

“Of course. No problem,” she answered, just managing not to grind her teeth in impatience. The note that was still tucked into the elastic waist of her underpants felt like a hot poker against her flesh.

 

J
ACK'S SKIN WAS STILL CRAWLING
as he walked quickly along the jungle path. Hoping his disgust didn't show on his face, he kept his eyes trained downward.

Reynard had really gotten into a tour of his private playrooms, showing off various setups and equipment. As
Jack had followed his host, it was all he could do to keep from making scathing comments about the man's kinky sexual preferences.

Then he'd felt himself cringing when he'd run into Jormo Kardofski down in one of the corridors. Kardofski had been dressed like a Roman emperor and had given Jack a wolfish grin—assuming they'd both come down there for some kind of fantasy role-playing.

Upstairs again, he had managed to praise the facilities. At the same time, he'd put Reynard off for tonight by acting coy and saying that he needed more time to think about his options. He hoped he'd come across as a man who was interested in trying something new, but who had to work himself up to the good stuff.

Unfortunately, he was now caught in a dilemma that made his stomach churn. The guy he was playing, Jack Craig, wouldn't keep stalling forever. He'd welcome the opportunity for something different—particularly when it meant combining pleasure with business.

On the other hand, there was Maddy.

Oh Lord, Maddy.

They'd come here with the understanding that they'd do whatever it took to free Dawn. But no way was he going to ask her to submit to the kinds of games Reynard had in mind. He shoved his hands into his pockets, balled them into fists.

He had rounded a bend in the path when he almost tripped over one of the gardeners, clad in the usual green overalls. The man was squatting on the blacktop, weeding a section of flower bed.

“Sorry if I'm in the way, sir.”

“No problem.”

“I'm at your service, sir.”

Jack paused and gave the man a hard look. “At my service for what?” he asked.

“Anything at all.”

“Like what?”

The man shrugged. “You tell me. I'll be around if you need me.”

“Thanks,” Jack answered, then turned away. What the hell was that all about, he wondered. Was the guy trying to trap him into something? Or was he running some kind of scam behind Reynard's back?

Either way, Jack was sure he wasn't going to take him up on the offer.

 

F
IFTY MINUTES AFTER SITTING
down to get her hair coiffed, Maddy was finally out of the spa. As she took the path back to the villa, she kept her senses tuned to the foliage around her.

She thought she detected movement beyond the edge of her vision, but she wasn't quite sure. So she stopped, pretended that she'd been attacked by an insect as she batted at the air around her head and uttered little distressed sounds.

She made it look like the damn thing had gotten under her shirt, then lifted up the hem and reached for the note. It was in her palm by the time she had calmed down and started walking again. With her thumb, she unfolded the paper and looked down into her cupped hand, scanning the words as she moved along the path.

The note said, “The girl is in the Dark Tower.”

As she read the message, her heart began to beat faster. God, now what? The only person she'd talked to about “the girl” was Juanita. So she must have written the note. Unless someone else had heard them and was setting a trap. But even if the note had come from Juanita, it could still be designed to incriminate her and Jack!

 

J
ACK ARRIVED
at the villa and strode through the rooms. Two serving carts loaded with food stood in the dining
area, but Maddy wasn't there, and she wasn't on the patio.

He choked back a wave of panic. She was at the spa. Reynard hadn't scooped her up.

Impatiently, he waited for her to reappear, wondering what the hell he was going to do now. Should he tell her about Reynard's proposition and have her insides twisting as badly as his? Or should he keep this morning's meeting to himself and feel like a rat for not giving her all the facts?

Once, long ago, he'd given an agent a piece of very bad news, and she'd gone off the deep end. She hadn't been able to handle the information—and her subsequent behavior had gotten her killed.

He didn't think Maddy was going to crack under the strain. Hell, she'd been superb all the way through this nerve-wracking assignment. Yet the memory of that long-ago mission in Albania still had the power to turn his skin cold.

His mind flashed back to the narrow, one-lane road, winding along the crest of the mountains. Lisa hunched over the wheel, her face stark white as she fled the danger in the little village behind them.

He'd tried to get her to sit tight. She'd vetoed the idea and made a run for the car. And he'd had no choice but to go with her.

The mountain roads were dangerous under any circumstances. But there'd been no place to escape as the hulking Russian-made car had come toward them, speeding up as it plowed into their smaller vehicle.