Charades (14 page)

     He turned to Wulf, his eyes narrowing. “What happened to you? Why didn’t you come this afternoon?”

     “A little thing like being shot at. Do you know anything about that?”

     “Shot at?” Stratton’s face tightened. “You must get her out of here immediately.”

     “You wanted to see your granddaughter. So, you’ve seen her,” Wulf said. “Now what about your promise?”

     Stratton shook his head. “There is no money. I just wanted to see my granddaughter before I died.” Mercy glared at him, her arms folded over her chest.

     “She reminds me so much of my Lisa. See the way she stands there like that,” he said, pointing to her and smiling. “But she is also the image of my beloved Merci.” Stratton let his hand fall. “Merci never forgave me for my part in the war. She took all the money I had. It wasn’t necessary. I would’ve given her anything to stay with me.”

     “Didn’t you search for it after she died?” Wulf asked.

     “Why? When Merci left, I died too.” He seemed to shrivel before their eyes.

     Someone tried to open the door from the adjoining room. “Stratton, what’s going on? Why did you lock the door?” a rough voice asked.

     “I’m fine,” Stratton yelled, his voice belligerent. “How can I sleep with you bothering me all the time? I demand my privacy! Leave me alone!” His voice had lost none of its power to intimidate.

     “Open this door! Right now!” The voice was louder and more insistent. The door started shaking.

     Go, Stratton mouthed, stepping to the window in his room and pulling back the blackout curtain.

     An awning was over the first floor window. It will have to do as an exit, Wulf thought. Please just let it be newer than this building. He lifted Mercy out the window, letting her slide down the side of the building onto the awning. Thank God, it held! He followed her, the sound of shouting fading behind him. He hit the ground next to Mercy and took her hand.

     “Let’s get the hell out of here!” he whispered, helping her up and dragging her along with him. They ran the few blocks to the parked car, jumped inside, and sped off into the dark, starless night.

         “What do we do now?” Mercy asked. “Stratton says there’s no money. Was it really just a trick to get to see me?”

     Wulf drove through the darkened streets of old East Germany, the black night a curtain of dense, murky shadows and shapes, much like the question of where the money had gone.

     “There’s money all right,” he nodded. “The question is where did your grandmother hide it? And why are you a target? Do you have any clue to its whereabouts?”

     “I didn’t know about any money until your
Organization
planned this charade!” She persisted.

     “Don’t you get it?” he snapped. “Somebody
thinks
you know about the money.”

     “All right,” she said, blowing out a tiny breath. “My grandmother stole the money from my grandfather, but she died before telling anyone where she hid it. Somewhere in a Swiss bank there’s a lot of money waiting for the person who claims it?”

     Wulf nodded shortly.

     A horrible thought occurred to her. “Maybe my grandmother’s death wasn’t accidental. Maybe the person who’s trying to kill me, killed her.”

     “We still don’t know why you’re a target, but it’s possible she was killed, just as you suspect. If she did take that much money—and we’re talking millions here—there are plenty of people who’d kill for it. I doubt your grandfather did it, if it’s any consolation. He seems genuinely torn up about her loss, and that’s got to have been forty-some years ago.”

     “My parents never talked about any family, but I wonder if there aren’t others still alive.”

     “Could be,” Wulf said slowly. “You’ve got to remember everything ever said about your family. Anything, even the most innocuous fact, might help us locate the money.”

     Mercy nodded. “I don’t remember much. Mama said her mother died when she was about fifteen. Or was it sixteen? Anyway, she said it was an auto accident.” She turned to Wulf. “That sounds like an easy enough murder to fake.”

     He nodded. “It’s a possibility.”

     Nearly an hour and a half later they arrived back at the cabin.

     “All I want is a bed,” Mercy groaned, “I’m exhausted.”

     The ritual of undressing was a slow and tedious process accompanied by cramps in her hands, arms, legs, and back. All that damn climbing. She tried to get the ring off again, but her fingers were swollen from the strain of holding onto the rope. The ring felt even tighter than before. Oh, well, she’d try again in the morning.

     Mercy turned off the light, feeling so tired, she expected to drop off to sleep in a second. Instead, she tossed and turned until she wanted to scream. The walls were so thin, she could hear Wulf milling around as he got ready for bed. She listened until everything went silent in the other room. Unlike her, he wasn’t having any trouble sleeping. Her body ached all over. Her legs alone felt like lead weights.
How dare he be able to sleep!

     Miserable and disgruntled, Mercy remembered with longing how well she’s slept last night. She missed the solid warmth of Wulf’s body pressed close to hers. She’d felt safe with him. Loved. After another hour of tossing and turning, Mercy gave up. She crept down the hall and pushed open his door, startled to find him still awake, hands clasped behind his head. The nightstand light illuminated his broad chest, making her head swim with the need to reach out and touch him.

     “Is anything wrong?” Wulf asked, sitting up.

     Mercy’s gaze lingered on his bare chest. “No,” she said. “I just couldn’t sleep, and I thought, well, last night I slept so well, I…”

     She bit her lip. “I’m such an idiot,” she muttered, turning to leave. Why did she always make a hash of everything?

     “Come here,” Wulf said, his voice husky and beckoning. She turned and saw him pulling back the coverlet.

     “I didn’t come here for that.”

     “I know. Come here anyway,” his voice coaxed.

     She moved like a sleepwalker toward him.

     “Nothing will happen if you don’t want it to,” he told her.

     “I couldn’t sleep. All I want is to sleep,” she insisted.

     “Then just sleep.”

     She sighed and slid under the covers, snuggling next to his warm body. The heated pleasure of his skin soothed her tattered thoughts. No more thinking tonight, she promised herself.

* * *

     Mercy opened her eyes slowly, reaching out to stretch her sore muscles. She jumped as she touched a solid object. A very large, warm object. Startled, she looked over and saw Wulf asleep on his side facing her. His tousled hair made him look harmless, but the solid physique and ridges of muscles on his chest belied that innocence. She turned and started to ease out of bed. A long arm wound sinuously around her waist, pulling her back against his chest, his warm breath blowing on the nape of her neck.

     Snuggled against Wulf’s large, solid body, Mercy closed her eyes for several seconds, drinking in the sensations.

     The lightest of kisses brushed the sensitive skin of her neck. She sighed and shivered, feeling her heart beat just a little faster. A kiss seemed like such a little thing, but it had the power to make her mind go blank and her body flame with sensual awareness.

     “I don’t…” she started to say. She couldn’t allow this to happen. But he held her in place, gently kissing the nape of her neck. Her breath caught and she shivered with pleasure.

     “Don’t what?” Wulf murmured against her cheek.

     “I–I don’t think…”

     He continued to press kisses to the back of her neck and under her ear. Playfully, he nipped at her earlobe. Mercy couldn’t seem to stop either her small whimpers or her restless moving.

     When her foot touched Wulf’s leg, her toes curled, relishing the contact. As he continued to kiss the back of her neck, her skin became fine-tuned to every spot he touched. Every nuance of his erotic actions resulted in tiny shivers of pleasure and an escalating need for more. “Wulf! You have to stop.”

     “Do you like that, Mercy?”

     “I, uh,” Her neck felt so sensitive. Is that why he did this?

     “Do you know what you do to me?” Wulf whispered, stroking Mercy’s ear with his tongue, pressing kisses to her neck. He pulled her hand back, placing it around the hard, throbbing evidence of his arousal. “That’s what you do to me. Only you, Mercy, only you,” he whispered, his voice husky and irresistible in the still air of the room.

     Mercy shuddered at the feel of him, the hard evidence of his desire. God forgive her, but she loved the huge, heavy, hard feel of him. Slowly she rubbed her palm over his arousal. She didn’t realize how powerful she’d feel holding him in her hand. She didn’t want to stop touching him, stop feeling the length of him. But if she didn’t stop soon, it would be too late.

     Wulf smiled. If he wanted to keep her safe, he had to build her trust back with everything he did. If nothing else, he would show her how beautiful she was, how beautiful making love was. Her body felt like a celestial harp needing only the right touch to burst forth with full, resounding notes. She wanted him, not as much as he wanted her, but she definitely wanted him.

     He had given up trying to understand his obsession with her. He just knew he’d never had such an incredible, raging need to bury himself in a woman. He felt like a different person, as though something inside of him had changed. Her innocence, vulnerability, and funny clumsiness had charmed him before he’d even thought to run. She was the magical sprite who cracked the barrier of his long-held distrust of women.

     Mercy didn’t realize it yet, but the kinds of things they’d done could never be tucked back into a knapsack and hidden away. If he had anything to do with it, Wulf swore, she’d never again have to hide behind a rumpled, dowdy facade or seek refuge behind the hallowed walls of academia.

     Content right now to just kiss her neck and shoulders, he took his time enjoying every minute of her budding sexuality. Her womanly fragrance—a combination of her perfume from last night, soap, and just her, made his head swim. He inhaled deeply and pressed her hand more firmly against his throbbing erection. She didn’t object or protest anymore. Her hand was now mapping the feel of his arousal.

     His hands, which had been exploring her curves and making short work of pulling up her nightgown, found her right breast, so soft, silky and smooth to the touch. He grazed his fingers over her nipple. It instantly beaded in response, pointing upward, as though seeking more attention. He continued to tease it into a hard peak, rejoicing in her body’s uninhibited response. Then he did the same to the other nipple, creating twin peaks of perfection.

     Her pliancy delighted and humbled him. To hear her gasps, whimpers, and moans as he pleasured her made Wulf smile in satisfaction. Letting his hand dip down further to graze her stomach and then lower, he felt for her through her panties. She pressed herself against his hand, opening her legs and shuddering.

     “Ah, yes, that’s it,” he crooned to her. “Let me feel you. Open for me,” he whispered in her ear.

     She shook her head slightly, but continued her movements against his hand, as if she couldn’t help herself. He worked the center of her being, as she moved in fluid cadence to the motions of his hand and body. Sweet God! He could do this for hours. Did she have any idea how responsive she was, how perfect? He slipped her gown up above her breasts, determined to have all of her.

     Mercy tried to fight him with what little restraint she had left in her. Unfortunately, the person she fought was herself. She had no power to resist. The sensations in her body quickly obliterated all thoughts as her mind scattered, fragmenting deliriously. Her frustration and tension soared as she tried to silently communicate with him.
Touch me there, yes, there!
He tormented her, avoiding the spot where she ached for him.

     Slowly, Mercy realized her gown had slipped above her breasts and her panties were gone. Before she had time to react, Wulf inserted his finger into her moist haven. She clenched around him, a moan of pleasure dispersing any further objections.

     He lightly brushed against that aching spot, the one she’d known about, but never
really
known about. Putting two fingers inside of her, he stretched her, gently rocking her hips with his. The heat of his naked arousal felt like velvet-encased steel against her buttocks. Everything about him was hard. And she, she was soft, soft in the head! A mindless idiot, she was, and hot. Oh, God, she felt so hot!

     When he pulled up her top leg, she felt him glide, ever so slowly into her wetness, inch by delicious inch. Mercy quivered, shuddering with desire from the exquisite sensation of fullness and the way his thumb kept darting licks of fire at her core. The feel of him inside of her, his other hand touching her breasts at the same time, was excruciating, dazzling torture. Oh, God, she wanted it to last forever.

     “Let me love you,” he whispered in her ear. “That’s it, just let go. Don’t hold back. Come with me.”

     From out of nowhere, a wanton entity took over her mind and her body. All he had to do was move his finger just
there
, and she flew out of control, urging him onward, harder, faster! She clutched his hand as he began thrusting, taking her to unknown realms of breath-taking heaven!

     When they culminated together, shuddering, gasping, and crying, her long moan spiraled upward from the hot wellspring of her being. She splintered in joyful abandonment, groaning at the release of tension, and the hot, blissful ecstasy. For several minutes, Mercy lay panting and quivering, trying to hold onto the splendor as long as she could. She heard Wulf’s ragged breath behind her, felt his hand cupping the still throbbing bud of her feminine awareness.

     Once her breathing slowed down, she started to turn to him. He held her down firmly, and then,
oh, my God
, then he started to touch her again. Fireworks, bursting with energy, exploded, and she hurtled upwards again, a shooting comet of erogenous sparks and flames.