The Heart Has Reasons (20 page)

After
having lived for those years with no privacy, the solitude of living alone was
a panacea, although — despite the fact that she wasn’t one of those women whose
self-worth was dependent upon being with a man — she sometimes longed for the
comfort and companionship of someone with whom to share her life.

“That
explains why you’re so strong,” he remarked.

“
Me?
 
Hardly.”

“You’re
one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.  Certainly the strongest
woman.”

“You’re
wrong about that.  I’m a coward.”

He
cocked a dubious eyebrow.  “I’ve seen no evidence of cowardice.”

“It’s
there, nonetheless.”

“Well,
for a coward, you’re dealing with this whole situation incredibly well.”

“You’re
joking, right?  I’m absolutely terrified.”

“Of
me?”

“No. 
At least, not anymore.

“What
makes you think you’re a coward?”

“Losing
both parents at such a young age impressed upon me an overwhelming awareness of
life’s precariousness.  I instinctively knew that I’d die young as well,
and began suffering paralyzing panic attacks.  It was only after I took up
yoga that I learned to control them.  Plus, I’m careful to avoid any and
all risky situations.  Until three days ago, I hadn’t been on an
expressway since Dad died.”  At his look of open disbelief, she added,
“It’s true.”

He
seemed to consider the matter for a moment.  “I did wonder why you didn’t
take the expressway the day you had the flat tire.”

“You
were there, watching me?  And you didn’t even come to my assistance?”

He
at least had the grace to look embarrassed.  “I truly wanted to but if I
had, you might’ve spotted me again later and realized I was tailing you.”

Her
temper immediately flared.  Not over the fact that he hadn’t volunteered
to change the tire for her, but at this further evidence of his invasion of her
privacy.  When she tried to yank her hand from his grasp, he refused to
release it.  However, since she was trying to play on his sympathies, now
was not the time to get into a heated argument.  Squelching her anger, she
continued.  “I’ve never flown in an plane, ridden on a motorcycle, gone on
an amusement park ride, or even driven above the speed limit.  I’d never
even dared to touch a firearm until Sparrow started invading my privacy.”

“And
look at you now, sleeping with a nine-millimeter under your pillow.”

“That
was due to cowardice, not bravery.  When Sparrow escaped justice, I was
terrified he’d return to finish what he’d started.  My fear of him
outweighed my fear of guns.”

The
mere mention of Sparrow lips clamped his lips in a straight line.  When
she placidly gazed back at him, the square jaw beneath the ski mask abruptly
unclenched.  “The worst aspect of fear lies in the anticipation, and
bravery is simply being the only one who knows you’re afraid.  There’s no
shame in being afraid.  What matters is how we face our fear.  Once
you faced up to your fear of firearms, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you’d
expected, was it?”

“No,
it wasn’t.  But now that I’m about to die, I deeply regret that I’ve
missed out on so much.”

Behind
the mask, his eyes narrowed.  “Stop saying that!  You’re
not
going to die, and you know it.”

“Believe
what you want, but I know better.”

“You’ll
have the rest of your life to do all the things you want and, despite what you
may think, you’re
not
a coward.  It took a considerable amount of
courage to threaten me with a knife.”

“Which
I then meekly handed to you.”

“Only
because I threatened to shoot you.  And don’t forget that you kicked a
loaded weapon from my hand.”

“I
surprised even myself with that one.”

“It
definitely took me by surprise, and I have to say that on both occasions you
were quite magnificent.”  The quivering candle flames made his eyes
sparkle as they gazed at her across the expanse of the mattress.  He
shifted closer to her and brought her handcuffed hand to his mouth to kiss her
palm.  Then his lips parted, and the feel of his tongue on her flesh sent
a sensation like a low-volt electric charge humming up through her arm straight
to the pit of her belly.

When
she tried to tug her hand from his, he refused to relinquish it.  To cover
her disquiet, she said, “What about you?  Tell me about your parents.”

Still
holding her hand, he said, “My dad
was
a mean drunk.  By the time I
was fifteen, I was as tall as him, although he outweighed me by a good forty
pounds.  He came home drunk one night and bounced my mother off a wall for
the last time.  I beat him bloody and unconscious, dragged his worthless
ass out of the house, and dumped him on the front lawn.  Sometime during
the night, he awoke and departed for parts unknown.  If he’d ever been
stupid enough to return, I probably would have killed him.”

His
flesh glowed bronze against the white sheets, and she forcibly had to restrain
herself from reaching out with her free hand to run her fingers through the
dark hair that fanned out over the upper part of his broad chest.  “And
your mother?”

“Alive
and well.  She eventually remarried, to a decent man.”

“Have
you ever been married?”

“Once. 
It lasted less than a year.”

“Do
you have kids?”

“No.”

“Why’d
you get divorced?”

“Let’s
just say she wasn’t the person I thought she was.”

Detecting
a note of anger behind his words, she decided not to pursue that line of
inquiry.  “I bet you got married right before you went into the military.”

“I
was never in the military.  I told that to the state trooper because I
knew he would be more congenial if he thought me a brother-at-arms.”

“You’re
a liar.  If you’ve never been in the military, then where’d you learn to
speak Afghan?”

Behind
the ski mask, his eyes glittered with irritation, and she suppressed a smirk of
satisfaction, knowing it worried him that she knew even that tiny bit about
him.  “The language is not called ‘Afghan’.  It’s Dari Persian.”

“Oh,
well, ex
cuse
me.  Say something.”

He
blew out a loud huff of exasperation.  After several moments of silence,
he began speaking, and the exotic words flowed from his tongue as smoothly as
if they were his native language.  His voice was deep and husky, the lazy
sound of it brushing chills along the length of her spine.

“What
did you say?” she asked when he had finished.

“It’s
a passage from the Koran.”

So-o-o-o. 
Not only did he speak the language, he’d studied the Koran.  Clearly, he’d
served in Afghanistan as more than just a common soldier.  She filed this
new information away for future reference.  “Do you have any pets?”

“No.”

“A
girlfriend?”

While
the candles threw long, wavering shadows onto the walls, he hesitated before
answering.  “I’ve been seeing someone.”

The
knowledge that he had a girlfriend troubled Larissa for reasons she couldn’t
quite define.  “Does she know what you do for a living?”

“Of
course she does.”

“And
she doesn’t mind that you’re a kidnapper?”

“This
is
not
the sort of thing I do for a living.   It’s simply a
onetime gig I agreed to because the money was good.  Accepting it was a
mistake that I already regret.”

“Then
why not simply let me go?”

“Not
only would I be forfeiting the second half of my fee, I’d have to return the
first half.  I’m sorry.”

“I
get so freaking tired of hearing those two words.  You men seem to think
that you can do whatever the hell you want, and then, when confronted with your
transgression, all you have to do is say
I’m sorry
and all will be
instantly forgiven.  Well, it doesn’t work that way. 
I’m sorry
is what you say to someone when you forget their birthday, or accidentally bump
them in line.  If you deliberately do something, and then say
I’m sorry
,
the only thing you’re really sorry about is the fact that you got caught.”

“You’re
absolutely right, ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t even begin to suffice.  If I could
somehow rewind time, I would never have taken this job.  But consider
this: If I’d refused the job, my client would simply have hired someone else,
possibly someone with a violent criminal history.  This enterprise could
have played out much differently.

Larissa
shifted her gaze to the ceiling, hating to admit, even to herself, that he had
a point.  What if Sparrow had hired some psychopath who made her wear that
freaking gag twenty-four hours a day, who beat her at the slightest
provocation.  And at night, restrained and helpless in the motels …

To
dispel these horrifying thoughts, she asked, “So-o-o-o, how much does a
kidnapping pay?”

“More
than a maintenance man could afford.”  Now it was his turn to change the
subject.  “Have you ever been married?”

“You
asked me that before, and I told you I haven’t.”

“You’ve
never
been married?”

“Why
do you find that so hard to accept?”

He
suddenly looked uncomfortable.  “Well … you’re a beautiful woman, I’m sure
you’ve had more than your share of suitors.  Why hasn’t some man snatched
you up by now?”

That
wasn’t it at all, but he obviously wasn’t going to tell her.  “I’ve never
met a man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.  And besides, men
always expect the women to cook and clean and pick up after them, while their
butts stay glued to the sofa in front of the television.”

“Sounds
to me like you’ve been choosing the wrong sort of men.”

“Gee,
you think?”

What
she needed was a man like him, someone organized, self-sufficient, and able to
clean up after himself.  Someone who could whip up something to eat without
either whining for her to do it for him, or feigning incompetence in order to
force her to take over.

As
the storm slowly subsided, she said, “So-o-o-o, is your girlfriend the reason
you’ve comported yourself more or less as a gentleman?”

He
regarded her archly.  “
More or less
?  Overall, I’d say that my
behavior has been exemplary, but my girlfriend has nothing to do with it.”

“Then
what’s the reason?”

In
a move so fast that she didn’t even see it coming, he was suddenly on top of
her, his weight on his elbows as he hovered directly above her.  He wasn’t
touching her, but he was so close she could feel the heat radiating from
him.  The room instantly became smaller, darker.  The air seemed to
have grown thinner, so that she struggled to catch her breath.  With a
cocky grin, he asked, “Disappointed?”

 “Don’t
be stupid.  I’m extremely grateful that you’ve … you know … not tried to …
take advantage of the situation.”

“Somehow,
I find that difficult to believe.”

“Why
do you always have to be such an arrogant ass?”

“Just
in my nature, I guess.”  His blue eyes flitted over her face, then
fastened on her mouth.  As she closed her eyes and braced herself for
another kiss, he rolled back over, dropping onto his side next to her.

As
she forced down an emotion that felt suspiciously like disappointment, he
raised his free hand to trace the fullness of her lower lip with his
thumb.  “Don’t take my restraint personally.  Believe me, I want
you.  I want you so fucking bad it hurts.”  His words sent a shiver
racing down her spine and a flush of heat ignited an erogenous zone deep
inside.  “But when a person is under the total control of another, the
right to consent is effectively nullified, making any sexual act an act of
rape.”

“Oh.” 
She swallowed, enormously grateful for his self-control, suspecting that if he
attempted to take advantage, she might submit with nary a word of
protest.  It must be the damned storm affecting her.  It had her
wound so tight she couldn’t seem to get a grip on her emotions.

When
a lazy, knowing smile touched his lips, she adopted an accusatory tone of
voice.  “In that case, you took advantage both times when you kissed me.”

“I
admit to getting carried away in the heat of the moment, but a couple of kisses
are hardly akin to rape.”

Thankfully,
the sleeping pill was starting to kick in and she could feel the razor-sharp
edge of her tension beginning to dull.  In a desperate attempt to shift
the conversation to a safer, less-stimulating topic, she asked, “Would you
really have killed that state trooper today?”

Behind
the ski mask, his eyes flicked away from hers and he rolled onto his back to
stare at the ceiling.  “If you’d done something stupid, I would’ve had no
choice.”

Not
only was he clearly lying, he was doing a poor job of it.  Crap!  She
should have done something, screamed,
anything
.  He might have hurt
the young officer, probably would have hurt him, but he would
not
have
killed him.  And since the officer had gotten a good look at both her
kidnapper and the vehicle he was driving, there would have been a subsequent
manhunt launched for him —
for them
.