To Deceive Is To Love (Romantic suspense) (21 page)

The door swung open before she had a chance to open it. Fingers like a vice gripped her wrist and dragged her in, the door slamming shut.

“You stupid little fool. Where the hell have you been?”

For a moment, she was stunned by his action and the cold fury revealed in his face.

“Answer me, damn it. I’ve been going half-crazy with worry.”

Releasing her wrist, his hand went up to her shoulder, clutching it almost to the point of shaking her, his other arm steadying himself with his crutch.

“I needed some air. Does it matter? I’m here now.” Her voice was surprisingly calm as her eyes met his, almost wanting him to vent his anger further. “In fact, you’re right. I am stupid, because if I had any sense, I would have kept on walking. The only trouble is, I’ve got no place to go. You’ve seen to that.”

A puddle was forming where she stood. Trickles of water traveled down her forehead and onto her lashes, causing her to blink and sending the droplets rolling down her cheeks.

His hand came up, pushing the wet strands from her face before returning to her chin. “I felt responsible for causing you to flee like that and so damn helpless for not being able to go after you.” His voice had softened, the anger gone.

“That’s all I am to you? A responsibility, someone caught up in your world who doesn’t belong? This time, my life is your responsibility. Such a hero. No wonder you have trouble sleeping at night.” She couldn’t help the bitterness in her tone.

“Of course, you’re quite right, darling. You have complicated matters slightly. I don’t know why I came back for you at all and got shot in the process, but I guess even bastards have a certain obligation now and again. You happen to be mine.” He stepped back from her, that cold mask of indifference coming over his features. “May I suggest you get out of that wet clothing? I’d hate to be responsible for you being struck down with pneumonia.” He turned his back on her.

Pulling the wet T-shirt over her head, Chantelle gathered it up and threw it.

The soaking wet bundle whipped around the back of his head. His hand came up and peeled the wet article from his neck. He threw it to the ground without looking back at her.

This infuriated Chantelle more. She wanted to scream and strike out at him, anything to bring him back from that dark, unreachable place he went in order to seal away his emotions. With fingers that shook, she stripped off her jeans and took aim again.

This time, the weight slapping hard against his back nearly caused him to stumble. Still, he refused to turn around.

Chantelle leapt forward, her small fists pummeling at his back until his arm came back, snapping around her naked waist and throwing her onto the mattress spread-eagled.

She glared up at him defiantly as he threw the crutch to one side and fell on the bed next to her, staring up at the ceiling.

“What do you want to hear from me, Chantelle? That I care for you, love you even? Maybe I do, but we have no future. You deserve someone far better than me.” Regret poured from every word.

“You said no more lies. I want the truth, David, not some macho bullshit you use as an excuse to hide behind. How dare you presume to decide what’s right for me?”

Propping up his head with his elbow, he looked down at her. Still, she lay there not moving, her breathing shallow and ragged. Leaning over her, he placed his hands under her armpits and swept her up so she was positioned above him, her knees on either side of his hips. His eyes locked onto hers.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want to hear that the hell you put me through has some meaning, that we have something worth holding onto and that I wasn’t simply a good lay who unfortunately became embroiled in your world. I can’t lie. My world has been torn apart and I’m not like you. I can’t keep myself in check. I’ve tried to hate you, but I can’t.”

His fingers delved into her hair and brought her mouth down to his, lips possessively claiming hers. It was Chantelle who finally broke away and placed her hands on either side of his head, supporting the upper half of her body. She begged him with her eyes for words, not actions.

“Okay, you win, but it’s not easy. I can honestly confess I have never told a woman before that I loved her or even come close to it, except maybe my mother, but I was very young at the time and look how that turned out.” He forced out a smile.

“Why have you cut her out of your life?”

“I suppose Danny told you.”

“He mentioned it.”

“I don’t know, it just happened. The divorce forced Danny and me into taking sides. I was already in the air force, but Danny was living at home and only remembers the rows, not what led up to them.”

“What did?”

“The deceit, the lies. My mother was having an affair. My father found out and it destroyed him.” His face became shadowed by the memory. “Still, it was a long time ago.”

“Not long enough for you to forgive. Is that why you’ve never married?”

“Maybe. A typical Freudian example, don’t you think?” He threw her a wink, his fingers at the same time reaching behind her back and unclipping her bra. Gently, he slid the lacy garment down her arms.

“You can’t blame your mother for your father’s death, surely?”

“Does it matter what I think?” His smile was self-derisive.

“Yes. It helps you to treat love as a gift and not a curse.”

His hand went behind her neck, gently bringing her face down to within an inch of his. “Show me how precious this gift is and you might have a convert.”

Lowering her mouth to his, she lightly traced the outline of his mouth with her tongue. “You haven’t answered my original question. What am I to you, David?”

“I think you know.” He seized her mouth again, his tongue darting between her lips to twine around hers.

The frenzy of kissing was finally broken by Chantelle, her lips traveling to taste and caress his chest. Her hands locked around his, forcing them back on the bed so he could do no more than lay back and enjoy the tantalizing, teasing feel of her mouth. Powerful muscles tensed and quivered, the true extent of his desire pushing against her stomach as she leaned over him. The burning heat turned her nipples into hardened crimson beads that dipped and offered themselves to seeking, pleading lips.

He broke his hands free from hers; enabling him to position her hips and lower her down gently.

She inhaled sharply, the pleasure intensifying as the control became all hers. She felt his fast, warm breath, his whispered yearnings as she deliberately withdrew from him only to plunge back down. Strong thrusts drove deeper and harder into her until control vanished and ecstasy took over.

Outside, the storm raged on. Rain lashed against the window, the dark shadows of their naked bodies lit up when a flash of lightening streaked across the room.

Leaning on one elbow so she could look down on him, Chantelle gave a contented smile. The warm blue eyes that met hers were dreamy; a look that had her captured and was so intimate, she felt could never be repeated for any other. Chantelle rested her head against his chest and felt his arm wrap around her. His other arm joined it, so she was molded against him.

“We leave tonight, so get some rest.”

She couldn’t help the pang of disappointment from sounding in her voice. “So soon?”

“Earlier you couldn’t wait to be gone from this room.” He gave her a gentle squeeze.

The reminder made her think of the man who was arranging their transport. “And who is Pascal exactly?” Her head rose off his chest to look up at him.

“French Intelligence.”

“He looked like a criminal, a drug dealer or someone just as bad.” She couldn’t help her disparagement.

“I didn’t know you familiarized yourself with such people enough to recognize one, but yes, that is his disguise. Undercover work means he can’t exactly go to work in a suit and tie.”

“He said you saved his life once.”

“I lifted him out of a tricky situation in Algeria. It was my job and if anyone knows the people we’re up against, he does. It also helps that he’s half Algerian on his mother’s side. Now, get some sleep. And, Chantelle, you don’t know of his existence. Lies are what keep him and others like him alive.”

She nodded. The knowledge was a responsibility she would rather not have and yet was desperate for. It was a sign David trusted her enough to allow her into his world.

Chantelle stared at the image reflected in the mirror. It was difficult to recognize herself. On the outside, she looked the same except for the fading bruise, a reminder of the change within. She had been abducted and brutalized, feared for her life and killed a man. Yet, the one who had unwittingly involved her in his nightmare was a man she was insanely in love with. Her face was still flushed from their lovemaking, her hair tangled where his fingers had been and her body still yearned to feel his touch all over again. If that wasn’t insane, what was?

Stepping under the shower, she allowed the warm spray to greet her face, closing her eyes as the water cascaded down her body. Finally, she reached for the soap to reluctantly wash his scent from her.

Feeling a little miffed that she could be in his presence and at the same time be totally ignored; she stood for a moment watching him. With the oversized dungarees back on and the thick stubble around his jaw, he looked like he should be living in the mountains.

He stared at the metal box on the bed in front of him, the one he’d made her carry when he’d been injured. She had to admit, it had raised her curiosity when she had searched the knapsack for clean clothing, only she hadn’t the tool to break the padlock. Now, David retrieved the key from the lining of his knapsack.

Emptying the contents on the bed, he reached out and picked up one of the whitish silver, jagged edged rocks. When he held it up to the lamp, the uneven surfaces emitted rays of light as only an uncut diamond could.

Chantelle’s breath caught in her throat. There had to be a fortune laid out in front of him. No wonder he had been so concerned about his precious possessions, but where had they come from and why did he have them?

David’s eyes narrowed sharply as he took in the towel wrapped around her nakedness.

“I sent my jeans down to be tumble dried and I don’t have anything else to wear,” she responded to his quizzical look.

“Well, I suggest you cover yourself up with something before Pascal arrives. He might be a friend, but he is also a hot-blooded Frenchman who might think you’re an added bonus on top of what I’m paying him.”

He was still capable of handing out hurtful, distasteful remarks when only several hours ago, they had lain in each other’s arms making love, talking love. The hurt must have been clearly visible, because in the next breath David was apologizing.

“I’m sorry, Chantelle. It’s not Pascal I’m worried about, it’s me. My whole objective must be focused on us getting safely out of France and clearing my name. Instead, I find my head filled with thoughts of those beautiful long limbs of yours wrapped around me. Need I say any more?”

She smiled. “Yes, plenty and I’ll remind you when we’re out of here.”

The glint of diamonds stole her attention again. “I thought Pascal was helping us because you saved his life.”

“He did by bringing a doctor here. Getting us out of the country is a different matter. It costs money and is full of risks and for that, he gets a few of these beauties. Should keep him happy and silent.” He left two diamonds out and wrapped the rest back in the velvet cloth, returning them to the metal box.

For a moment, she stood and stared at the two gems left on the bed, her thoughts wrestling with an uncomfortable question. “Those diamonds, they’re payment for the weapons you delivered, aren’t they?”

“Well, I don’t make a habit of carrying uncut diamonds wherever I go. So yes, they were handed over to me, only I stopped being the courier and became the keeper.” He spoke in that deep, lazy drawl Chantelle had grown to hate. It was as if he didn’t care what his words were doing to her.

“Then that makes you no better than the one who set you up. Instead of him profiting, you are.” She wanted him to deny it.

Instead, he gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I suppose you’re right. Still, that plane we were in was mine and will cost a tidy sum to replace, so I’d call it compensation along with everything else that went with it.”

“People died.” Chantelle shook her head. “It’s wrong.”

“Those people were murderers. I also blew up the weapons their comrades would use to blow up and maim more innocents. I won’t lose any sleep over keeping the diamonds rather than handing them over to the Treasury. They owe me and something tells me I’m not about to be paid.”

He used that deep, lazy tone, she realized, whenever he was on the defensive. “You have a funny way of justifying blood money.”

“I guess you’ve finally gotten to know me.” He gave her a humorless smile.

At the light tap at the door, Chantelle walked back into the bathroom and returned seconds later wearing a T-shirt and the towel wrapped around her waist.

Pascal walked into the room and greeted David warmly, the two men embracing like long lost friends. He seemed surprised and pleased that David could stand virtually unaided, though the discomfort was clearly evident in his tense expression.

With the reunion over, David shuffled over to the edge of the bed and sat down, his injured leg stretched out in front of him.

“I told you he was built like an ox.” Pascal smiled warmly at Chantelle but the look she gave him in return made his smile fade.

Chantelle couldn’t hide what she was feeling. She loved David with all her heart and nothing he could say or do changed it, but she was beginning to feel happiness would be short lived. She couldn’t be her mother, willing to take what little her father could offer them, forgiving him for not acknowledging them.

She felt small and insignificant huddled on the window ledge, her legs tucked under her chin and covered by a towel. Watching the two men speak in hushed tones barely loud enough for her to hear made the strength and fight drain out of her.

“You now have notoriety, David. You’re on the most wanted list.”

“News travels fast. Are these rumors above and below ground?”

“Qui, I’m afraid so. Your own people have put you on the most wanted terrorist list. They’re calling you an agent gone bad, responsible for requisitioning weaponry to supposedly root out illegal arms smuggling; only the C.T.A.U. denies all knowledge of sanctioning such a directive and claim you were working alone.” Pascal paused and lit a cigarette. “That is nothing, though. You are used to such rumors, but you are also considered enemy number one by the terrorists for blowing up several of their top generals, as well as weapons they had paid for.“

David let out a sigh. “The net is closing in fast; I can’t say I didn’t expect it.”

“No place will be safe for you now. Those men you killed have friends who will not give up.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Believe me, it wasn’t what I had planned. The military was meant to be there waiting. The girl wasn’t supposed to be kidnapped and I was going to retire with a clean slate and a healthy pension. Now, I’ve lost a bloody good plane, have every crack pot out to kill me and my own government thinks I’m a traitor.” Cold fury sounded in every word.

“While we’re discussing your poor future prospects, what about me? Am I enemy number two?”

Both men turned to her and Pascal gave an encouraging smile. “There has been no mention of a woman. I believe your abduction was part of a separate plan known only to those involved in your kidnapping, who I believe are all now dead except -”

“Hendersson.” David hissed out the word as if a vile taste had been expelled. “He’s not about to reveal to anyone his knowledge of Chantelle, to do so would cast suspicion on himself.”

“Hendersson,” Pascal repeated as if the name had come as a shock. “I knew someone from within was involved, but Hendersson? He was your controller, wasn’t he?

A malevolent glint came into David’s eyes, his face a cold, hard mask of contempt as if the devil had entered his soul.

Chantelle shuddered, apprehension at what kind of revenge David was capable of and what risk to his own life he’d take in order to gain it.

“Enough said, my friend. I understand.” Pascal grinded his cigarette out in the ashtray.

“Am I free to go back to my mother’s family?” Chantelle asked, needing to break the deathly silence.

“No, that’s not possible for now,” David replied flatly.

“But why?” Her eyes reached out to Pascal, hoping for his support, but he shook his head.

“David is right. Hendersson will be the first to hear if you turn up alive and well. David’s plan is for the best. It will at least give him an advantage.”

“What plan?” Chantelle looked at the two of them, realizing whatever it was had been discussed previous to this meeting.

“I will leave the two of you to talk it over alone,” Pascal said. “I will be back in an hour and then we must go. The airport is several hours from here. You will be okay to fly the plane?” he asked David.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Chantelle waited for the door to close behind Pascal, and then turned to David. “What plan?” Her voice rose, the impatience showing.

“The only way for us to be safe is to fake our own deaths. Pascal has arranged for two bodies to be found at the scene of the plane wreckage, burnt beyond recognition when the plane exploded on contact with the mountain. Hendersson will be skeptical, especially with no diamonds showing up, but he can’t be too open with his suspicions. He will also be as nervous as hell, not knowing if and when I might surface. In the meantime, it will keep the C.T.A.U. and the terrorists at bay. For this to succeed” -- he paused as if reluctant to continue -- “You cannot have any more contact with your mother, at least for now. She will have to believe you are dead and that the phone call you made came just before the crash.” He let out a small sigh. “I’m sorry, Chantelle.”

For a moment, she was stunned into silence, her gaze piercing into the back of David’s head. He hadn’t even had the courage to turn and face her with the news of her sudden demise. Instead, his words had bounced off the far wall.

“Do I get to observe my own funeral? See who’s on the guest list from a distance? I doubt many will turn up for yours, but I like to think people will care enough to come to mine,” Her voice bordered on hysterical.

David turned and limped toward her until he was within arm’s length. His hand reached out to touch her cheek.

She slapped his hand away, recoiling farther into the recess of the window ledge. “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re becoming hysterical, Chantelle. Get a grip on yourself. Don’t you see it’s the only way? Once Hendersson is taken care of, you can go back to your family.”

“I won’t put my mother through thinking her only daughter is dead, and then turn up alive and well on her doorstep. You might be some kind of inhuman monster to think of such a thing, but I’m not.”

“You have no choice. It is already being arranged,” he stated firmly.

“You knew all this while we made love. How could you?”

“If I remember, it wasn’t all my idea.”

“Bastard,” she hissed.

Swinging her legs off of the window ledge, Chantelle stood up, her voice matching the same steely determination in his. “Unless you plan to kidnap me, which I warn you, won’t be so easy this time. I’m going straight out that door and to hell with the lot of you.”

He reached out and gripped her arm.

Instantly, she searched out a weapon. The only item within her reach was the pitcher; her free hand snatched it off the chest of drawers. Holding it by the handle, she waved it menacingly at him. “Let go of me. Otherwise, I promise this will be smashed over your skull.”

David stared back, surprise on his face. The corners of his mouth begin to lift. “Do you know how biting into your lower lip like you do when you’re nervous or upset makes you even more damn vulnerable and attractive?” His gaze lowered to where her towel had fallen away from her waist.