The Ugly Duckling (25 page)

She smiled affectionately as she watched the door close behind him. Phil had become an integral part of
their lives in the past few weeks. He happily drifted around, chopping wood, washing the cars, puttering in the garden. It gave her a warm feeling to see him look up and wave as he worked in the garden.

Her smile faded as she tossed an empty bag into the recycling bin. She hadn’t thought Nicholas would assign Phil to watch her. Why should he? Nell was the one in danger, and Nell was not here. This was America. There were no snipers waiting in the ruins to butcher the unwary.

But her instincts had been honed to acuteness by those years of wariness, and America was not the safe haven she had always thought it to be. Bombings and murders happened here too.

And she had felt those eyes on her.

Maybe she should let Phil come with her when she left the house.

Yes, sure, she thought in self-disgust. She would start classes at the university next week. Was she to let the poor man sit outside and wait for her, twiddling his thumbs because her instincts were screaming? Maybe she was having a flashback to Sarajevo. Memories and experiences were supposed to linger in the back of your mind. It could be she was—

She shook her head and put it firmly from her mind. She would play the situation as she saw it, as she always had done. When it was time to leave the house, she would make a decision about asking Phil to accompany her. She didn’t have to worry now. She was safe in this house, where she had made a nest for herself.

S
he thought she was safe, Maritz thought. The Vlados woman was inside Lieber’s house, feeling smug and un-threatened.

He scooched down in the seat of the car and reached
for the Big Mac he had picked up on the way to the house. It was good being in control, to set his own pace. No need to watch her every minute. Nell Calder wasn’t at the house now.

But she had been there. He had questioned Lieber’s neighbors and she had been seen.

At least, he thought it was her. Nell Calder had not been the beauty they had described, but Lieber was a brilliant surgeon and listed on the hospital records as Nell Calder’s attending physician. Why have a plastic surgeon, if not to change your face?

He bit into the sandwich and chewed with enjoyment.

He would soon have to resolve the Calder question. Though he wasn’t really worried about it. If she had been here, there was a good chance either the doctor or his housekeeper knew where she was now. What they knew, they would tell. He would have taken action sooner, but Lieber wasn’t like the funeral director. It wouldn’t be easy not to cause ripples if he removed Lieber and Vlados from the scene. It would do no harm to give it another week or so and see if Calder popped up at the house.

Besides, he was enjoying watching Tania Vlados. On the second day he had discovered to his joy and astonishment that she sensed his presence. He had made no mistakes, but she still knew he was there. He could read it in the line of her back, the quick look over her shoulder, the jerkiness of her stride.

It had been a long time since he had stalked a prey. Gardeaux always insisted on a quick, efficient kill. Get in, get out. He didn’t understand the pleasure of the hunt, the fear of the victim that was almost as intoxicating as the kill itself.

He finished the Big Mac and tossed the wrapper in the bag. He would give it another half hour before
driving by the house and checking it out. She wouldn’t be leaving again anytime soon.

She felt safe inside the house.

N
ell hit the floor
hard
.

“Get up,” Nicholas said. “Fast. Never stay down. You’re vulnerable when you’re down.”

Fast? She couldn’t breathe, much less move. The gym was whirling around her.

“Get up.”

She got up … slowly.

“You’d have been dead a second after you hit the mat,” Nicholas said. He gestured for her to come at him again. “Come on.”

She scowled at him. “Don’t you think you should teach me how to defend myself first?”

“No, I’m teaching you what to do when you’re down. It’s going to happen sometime no matter how good you get at this. You have to learn how to relax and become boneless so that you’re not hurt when you hit the ground. Then you have to roll to avert a hit and bounce to your feet.”

“I want to learn how to fight back. Is this the usual method?”

“Probably not. But it’s my method. Rush me.”

She rushed him.

He threw her down on the mat and straddled her. “If I were Maritz, I’d drive the ball of my hand up underneath your nose and send the bone splinters into your brain.”

She glared up at him. He was trying to make her feel as helpless and ineffectual as possible. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“You think he’d be merciful? Forget it.”

“No, you said Maritz liked to use a knife. If he had me down, why would he waste the opportunity?”

Surprise flickered across his face before it hardened. “Either way, you’re dead.”

“Today. Tomorrow I’ll do better. And the day after that I’ll be better still.”

He gazed down at her for a long while, his expression reflecting a mixture of emotions she couldn’t define. “I know you will.” His knuckles were curiously gentle as they brushed the line of her cheek. “Damn you.”

She was suddenly aware of the dominance of his position, the muscular control of his thighs, the power of his hands pinning her wrists to the mat. The scent of sweat and soap surrounding him enveloped her too. It was … disconcerting. She glanced away from him. “Then let me up and we’ll start again.”

For an instant she felt a tightening of his thigh muscles against her hips. Then he was off her, on his feet. He reached down and pulled her to her feet. “Not today.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “What do you mean? We’ve barely begun.”

“We made a hell of a lot more progress than I planned.” He started toward the door. “No more today.”

“You
promised
me. You owe me.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Then chalk it on the debit side. I’m sure you’re keeping score. Go take a hot bath to ease the bruising. Same time tomorrow.”

Her hands clenched into fists with frustration as the door slammed behind him. He had made her feel helpless and then left her before she could regain a sense of her own strength. Maybe that was going to be his strategy. Maybe he thought if he constantly discouraged and undermined her, she would give up.

But his departure had been too abrupt. She had an idea he had not meant to curtail the session.

It didn’t matter whether he had meant to do it or not. He was gone and the morning was wasted. She must not let it happen. She would go after him and—

What? Drag him back? Arguing wouldn’t help her. She would just have to do as he said and chalk up this day as a loss and hope he would keep his promise tomorrow.

An hour later she was wondering if she’d be in any shape to face him tomorrow. She gingerly slipped into the hot water and leaned against the curved back of the tub. The muscles of her shoulders and back were sore and stiffening more with every passing minute. She had a livid bruise on her hip, another on her left thigh, and five purple marks on her right forearm, where his hand had grasped her.

No one could say Tanek didn’t leave his stamp on a woman, she thought ruefully. Every time he’d touched her today, he’d hurt her.

Except that moment when he’d brushed his knuckles against her cheek. He hadn’t hurt her then.

But even that moment of gentleness had been unsettling.

Forget it. She closed her eyes and let the warmth of the water flow into her. Forget everything but preparing herself for tomorrow.

“R
eady to begin?” Tanek motioned for her to come at him. “Let’s go.”

She stood looking at him. His face was without expression. “You’re not going to cut it short again?”

“No way. But you’ll wish I would before it’s over.”

She rushed him.

He flipped her over and down on the mat. “Don’t stiffen. Boneless. When you hit, roll and on your feet.”

Don’t stiffen, she told herself as she struggled to her feet. Don’t stiffen.

Easy to say. When you were flying through the air, tensing the muscles was as natural as breathing.

At the end of an hour she was so limp with weariness that she no longer tensed any part of her body.

He stood over her. “Shall we stop?”

“No.” She struggled to her feet, swaying. “Again.”

At the end of another thirty minutes of work, he picked her up, carried her to her room, and dropped her on the bed. He said roughly, “Remind me not to let you call the shots again. You’d go on until I killed you.”

He left the room.

She would rest for a moment and then force herself to get into the tub. God, she hurt. She closed her eyes. Tomorrow she would remember not to stiffen when she fell. Tomorrow she would roll and get to her feet …

Something cold and wet was pressing against her hand that was hanging off the bed.

She opened her eyes.

Sam. He must have followed Tanek into the room and gotten shut in.

“Do you want out?” she asked. “You’ll have to wait a minute until I can move. I’m not in very good shape.”

The German shepherd looked at her for a moment and then lay down on the floor beside the bed.

Acceptance. He knew about pain and wanted to comfort her.

She reached a tentative hand down to stroke his head.

T
he next day, she didn’t stiffen with the toss, but she couldn’t force herself to spring to her feet.

The day after, she rolled during the first few falls but fell apart when the exhaustion hit her.

The third day she managed to relax, roll, and get to her feet. She felt as if she’d painted a masterpiece. It was coming together!

“Good,” Tanek said. “Do it again.”

She didn’t do it again for another two days. He made sure the falls were harder, the pace faster.

She spent two hours a day in the gym, but it might have been twenty-four. When she wasn’t there, she was thinking about it, preparing herself mentally and physically for the next time she faced Tanek. She continued sketching, she talked to Michaela, she ate, she slept, but everything was unreal. She felt as if she were existing in a cocoon with nothing in the world but the dominant figure of Tanek, the gym, and the falls.

But she was growing stronger, more agile, faster. Soon Tanek would no longer be able to totally dominate her.

T
anek heard the sound of light footsteps pass his door.

Nell had left her room. The dream again.

Tanek rolled over on his back on the bed and stared into the darkness.

Tania had told him about the nightmares, but knowing and watching Nell try to survive them was not the same. He had followed her a few times but had not let her become aware of his presence. Not after he’d caught a glimpse of her tear-stained face. She wouldn’t want him to see her weakness.

She would go to the living room and curl up on the
couch and look up at the Delacroix or wander to the window and stare out at the mountains. She would stay an hour, sometimes two, before returning to her room.

Did she sleep when she went back to bed?

Precious little, he’d bet. She never appeared fully rested, always balanced on a fine, nervous thread.

Yet it never interfered with her determination or endurance. No matter how many times he hurt her, she came back for more. Strength of spirit and indomitable courage, wrapped in that beautiful fragile package. When she made a mistake, she learned from it. No matter how tired or bruised, she endured.

She endured his hardness, his brutality, his indifference to her pain.

God, he wished she’d go back to bed.

O
n Tuesday it finally did come together. She found the falls no longer hurt her, and she could roll away from an attacker and bounce to her feet, ready to defend herself.

“By George, I believe she’s got it,” Tanek said. “Do it again.” He threw her, hard.

She was on her feet seconds after she hit the mat.

“Good. Now we can begin. We’ll start attack and defense tomorrow.”

She smiled brilliantly. “Really?”

“Unless you’d rather I kept on throwing you around the gym.”

“I imagine I’ll still get enough of that,” she said dryly.

“But you’ll be able to concentrate on what I’m teaching you and not worry about getting hurt.” He threw her a towel and watched her wipe the perspiration from her face. He said, “You did well.”

They were the first words of praise he’d given her,
and warmth rushed through her. “I was slow. I didn’t think I’d ever learn.”

“You were quicker than I was.” He wiped his face and neck. “I was only fourteen and had a highly developed sense of self-preservation. I resisted every step of the way, and we didn’t have any mats in the warehouse where Terence was teaching me. I nearly got my neck broken a dozen times before I learned.”

“Terence?”

“Terence O’Malley.”

She could almost see him closing up again. “And who was Terence O’Malley?”

“A friend.”

A curt dismissal, but this time she ignored it. He knew everything about her. It was time she learned more about him. “The friend Gardeaux killed?”

“Yes.” He changed the subject. “You deserve a reward. What would you like?”

“A reward?” she repeated, surprised. “Nothing.”

“Name it. I subscribe to the tutorial system of reward and punishment.” He added dryly, “And you’ve had enough punishments lately.”

“There’s nothing I want.” She thought of something. “Except perhaps …”

“What is it?”

“What you said about Maritz—” She stopped. “When you had me down. Something about hitting me under the nose and killing me. Could I learn to do that? Right away?”

He stared at her for a moment and then started laughing. “No candy or flowers or jewelry. Just another lesson. I should have known.” His smile faded. “Too bad. I was hoping you’d be fed up with violence by now. I’ve been exposing you to enough of it.”

Violence? There had been pain and frustration, but he had never been violent. She had always known that
the force he exerted was measured and without malice. “I don’t think you were violent.”