Mistaken Trust (The Jewels Trust Series) (25 page)

If I had been only so lucky.
Jewels thought.

“Lighten up, Tank,” Cooman barked.

“With all due respect, Sir, it ain’t your face or arm she did this to,” he snapped, throwing a salute at Cooman and daggers at Jewels before turning on his heel and stomping out.

“Tank’s our strong arm,” Cooman explained to Jewels, who remained huddled behind Watters’ back. “I’m afraid the death of your pet is my fault, Miz Andrasy.”

“What do you mean?”

Cooman hung his head. “I sent an assassin to do a kidnapper’s job.”

“Oh,” she replied, the reality of just how close she might have come to death during her kidnapping crashing in her gut.

Clapping his hands together, “But, you’re here now and that’s what counts,” Cooman said with a thin smile.

With her kidnapper gone and feeling less threatened by Cooman and Watters, Jewels’ reporter curiosity surged. Crawling out from behind Marshall Watters on her hands and knees, “
You
sent Tank to kill Sharon, didn’t you?” she confidently asked, folding her legs underneath her butt and resting her hands on her thighs.

The general’s seaweed eyes locked onto hers as he stepped closer toward her, leaned over, extended his hand toward her face.

Instinctively she reared back, not knowing the intentions of his incoming hand.

Continuing to advance, he stepped closer.

Back peddling, she stiffened her body and plastered her back and butt against the cold rock wall.

“Whoa, Sweet Cheeks,” Cooman said, lightly caressing the side of her face with the back of his hand.

Jerking her face from his touch, Jewels’ eyes widened.

Rhett Cooman turned an analyzing eye on her. “Skittish, like a fine Arabian mare,” he said, evidently verbalizing his mental conclusion.

Pleating her lips, she knitted her brows. Was this guy for real? First Sweet Cheeks, now he compared her to a horse?

Cooman studied her for another moment, then blurted out a laugh. “Agree to have dinner with me Julia Andrasy and I’ll answer whatever questions your curious journalistic mind may have.”

Perking up, her eyes dancing with intrigue.

“Dinner?”

“That’s the offer.”

Jewels mulled it over. Why not make the most of an outrageously dismal situation? Dinner with the general would provide information-gathering opportunities, as well as a break from the hellhole of a cell for a while, and ultimately, maybe even lead to escape. Unable to beat her captors with physical force, maybe charm would prove more fruitful. The fact was, it was charm, not combat, that convinced Callahan to take off the straps. And
that
almost led to freedom. Almost.

Agreeing to General Rhett Cooman’s requirement to be on her best behavior bought her freedom from the handcuffs. Therefore, if it suited her motives, she could really pour on the charm and he would be none the wiser.

Still, the idea of having dinner with the general fostered an uneasy feeling in her gut. What if he required a little
action
after dinner? Investing a moment longer to quell her fears of the possibility of him wanting to have sex with her, and to further convince herself breaking bread with the enemy was the right thing to do, she recounted that old saying:
More flies can be caught with honey than vinegar.

Moreover, she reminded herself this kind of a one-on-one meeting was a reporter’s dream. And she was a reporter ... a darn fine one at that. Finally, until Cooman had mentioned dinner, she hadn’t realized how hungry she had become. Down right famished.

“General Cooman, you have a deal,” she responded with professional certainty, extending her hand.

“A handshake deal. I like that,” Cooman said with an honest smile as he took up her hand. To Watters: “Bring her to my quarters at...,” he glanced down at his watch, “eighteen-hundred hours.”

Turning to Jewels: “That’ll give you more than an hour. I’ll send over appropriate dinner attire and have Watters escort you to a shower.”

Forcing her sweetest fake smile, “Thank you,” she replied.

FRIDAY, 1755 HOURS, IN HER CELL.
It was apparent Cooman had hosted dinner engagements for women under his control before. He had thought of everything: makeup, hair dryer, curling iron, undergarments, perfect size dress, shoes, even jewelry.

A fashion maven, Jewels skillfully put it all together to create a smashing presentation. Makeup, expertly applied, covered the minor blemishes on her face and body from the bouts with Tank and his crew. Shimmering mauve lipstick added the finishing touches to enhance her natural attributes, creating an angelic Cover Girl look.

Jewels’ voluminous breasts nearly spilled over the plunging V-neckline of the sexy sleeveless black cocktail dress only covering as far down as the middle of her thigh. Black satin four-inch spike heels made her long legs look even longer. Thin corkscrew curls dangled elegantly down the sides of her lightly bronzed face, adding a touch of rich softness to her long blond hair tastefully twisted into a French roll.

“This could go either way, you know,” she nervously sighed, referring to her plan to bedazzle and charm the hell out of the general.

TAP-TAP. “Miz Andrasy, are you ready?”

Jewels recognized the voice. It was Marshall Watters. He had come to escort her to General Cooman’s quarters for dinner.

One last time she looked in the reflective metal square, double-checking her teeth to make sure lipstick hadn’t stuck to them.
Relax.
Jewels inhaled deeply, exhaled. “Yes. I’m ready,” she said, feigning the perkiest tone possible.

The door swung open. Watters’ broad shoulders filled the frame.

Purposely posing against the wall opposite the door, it was the perfect spot for her to catch a shot of his reaction. If she could impress Watters, perhaps the general would be equally impressed. And if that happened, she could pour on the charm. Maybe he’d relax. Let down his guard. Share more information than he had planned. Maybe even information that could lead to escape. Better yet, maybe he would turn a blind eye to her just long enough to
let
her escape ... then again, that was probably just pie-in-the-sky dreaming.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, have mercy on me,” he exclaimed, grabbing his chest like he was having a heart attack. As if his jaw had become unhinged, his mouth dropped open wider and wider as his eyes freely roamed her body.

Jewels smiled, twirled around, modeled the dress.

“Jeez, woman. You look fantastic.”

“Thank you,” she responded, a slight blush temporarily reddening her face. “Take-me-to-your-leader,” she said in the best monotone alien impression she could muster, elegantly gliding toward him.

Such silliness got them both laughing.

Taking up his arm like the perfect lady, she confessed, “Mister Watters, I feel absolutely ridiculous.”

His dark eyes locked onto hers. “Marshall. Call me Marshall. And no matter how you may feel, you look drop dead gorgeous.”

Watters escorted Jewels out of the cell into the gloomy corridor that spanned a good seventy feet ahead. She noticed her cell was the last in a bank of five cell doors that randomly dotted both sides of the hall. Except for the click-clack of her heels and the slap of Marshall’s boots against the stone floor, the hall was quiet. Made her think someone should yell,
Dead man ... woman ... walking.
A shiver zipped her spine causing her entire body to quiver.

Marshall felt it, just glanced down at her as they continued the walk.

“Uh, so how many other
guests
do you have staying here?” she said, eyeing the cell doors as they strolled by.

Smirking at her sarcastic
guest
comment, “One.”

“Another woman?” Jewels’ voice raised an octave.

“No. Just a member waiting sentencing.”

“Sentencing?”

“The rules are black and white around here. Obey and you’re fine. Disobey and punishment is swift.”

They turned a corner. Another gloomy hallway. The otherwise dark and lifeless corridor was brightened by soft classical music and a flicker of candlelight escaping from an open door about fifty feet ahead.

Jewels probed, “What did he do?”

“That’s information dispensed on a need-to-know basis and you don’t need-to-know,” he swiftly responded.

Ouch
. Nervously clearing her throat, she changed the subject. “That must be where you’re taking me,” she said, pointing to the open door.

Marshall nodded. Moments later. TAP-TAP. “General?” he called, popping his head around the doorway.

“Come in, come in,” Cooman shouted.

Stepping aside Marshall waved his hand, gesturing for her to proceed.

Cautiously entering, Jewels’ eyes were immediately drawn to the bright light streaming from a half open door at the far side of the room.

The general stood in front of a mirror, his back to her.

After watching him climb into his jacket and fuss with his hair for a moment, she concluded he was primping just for her. Inhaling a long but silent breath, she slowly exhaled and surveyed the rest of the area.

With a full size bed pushed against the far wall, Cooman’s private sleeping quarters had been converted to a mini dining area. Dozens of ivory candles, strategically placed on top of the narrow walnut dresser and four-drawer chest crammed against the wall opposite the bed, produced an inviting ambience. And the only light.

In the center of the room, a card table in disguise. A fresh white tablecloth was the background for plain white Corelle dinner plates and gold-tone flatware. A combination of pine cones and white and gold ribbons twisted into a pleasing configuration formed elegant napkin rings. A pine and ribbon centerpiece, to match the napkin rings, added color and charm.

The chairs, covered in white material matching the tablecloth, were adorned with white and gold ribbons. This guy had to be spending some serious television viewing time with Martha Stewart, Jewels thought.

“Oh, General, this is lovely,” she gushed, while thinking it
would
be lovely under different circumstances.

The bathroom door fully opened. Cooman emerged. The crisp full-dress military-style suit, similar to something a U.S. Army general might wear, made Cooman look like he was a
real
general in a
real
army.

Jewels adored men in uniform. They look so hero-like. So honorable. But, lest she forget, this man was no hero and certainly not honorable.

Cooman approached her.

Relax. Be charming. You can do this.
Jewels pep-talked herself.

Reaching for her hand, he took it up, kissing it.

Jewels didn’t shrink away.

Still holding her hand, Cooman doted, ”Miz Andrasy, you’re beautiful. Stunningly beautiful.”

She felt her cheeks radiating red. Thank goodness for poor lighting. Jewels blushed easily. More easily than most. It was something she had never been able to control. One of the few things she was self-conscious about.

“Please. Call me, Julia.” she said, nervously flashing a shy Princess Di look, while feeling him slowly undress her with his eyes.

“I now see, even more clearly, why
he
has chosen you.”

Chosen?
Jewels had no idea what Cooman was talking about. But made a mental note of it for further exploration later in the evening when they talked.

Watters, who was standing witness up until then, apparently decided it was time for him to leave. “Uh. General? I’ll leave you two alone, now. Let me know if—”

“Go. Go,” Cooman quickly interrupted, his hand waving a good riddance to Watters. “Oh, one more thing...,” he called out causing Marshall to halt in his tracks, “be sure to clean up her cell.”

“Already planned on it, Sir,” Marshall responded, disappearing into the hall.

“Maid service?” Jewels asked, her tone playful.

Grinning, “Not quite, though I like
maid service
better than shakedown.”

“Shakedown?”

“For various, and perhaps even obvious reasons, our
guests
are restricted access to anything that could be used to inflict harm to self or another. Not even a toothbrush is permitted,” Cooman explained, sliding out one of the chairs and motioning for Jewels to sit.

Puzzlement on her face, “You’re taking away my toothbrush?” she asked, having a seat.

Laughing, “Let’s have dinner, then we’ll talk.”

Jewels smiled pleasantly. “I’d like that, General.”

“Please. Call me Rhett.”

THE NO-FRILLS,
stick-to-your-ribs pot roast and baked potato meal was a welcome addition to Jewels’ stomach. Eating so much for dinner, she regretfully had to decline dessert: strawberry cheesecake. One of her favorites.

Dabbing her mouth with the napkin, she tossed it on her vacant plate. “The meal was lovely and very delicious. Thank you, Rhett.”