Be Careful What You Wish For(15)

She had no doubt that her mysterious captor and his friends had money.
She stepped into the tiny shower and cleaned herself quickly, trying to rub herself free of the residue of his touch. She scrubbed extra hard at her breasts and between her legs, punishing her traitorous flesh for enjoying his attentions so much. When she’d decided to martyr her virtue to stay alive, she hadn’t counted on enjoying it. Sean was definitely the best lover she’d ever had, and she didn’t like that one bit.
It wasn’t fair.
Life is not fair, Sandra reminded herself as she stepped out of the shower. She pulled out a plush towel out of a cupboard and dried herself off, noticing a stack of thick terrycloth bathrobes above the towels.
Just what she needed. Concealing, comfortable, and utterly unsexy.
She pulled on the robe and walked back out into the bedroom. It was light outside, but the shades drawn over the windows kept things dim. She stood for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Before she could see anything, he spoke.
“Feeling better?” he asked slowly, and the sound sent a tingle rushing down her spine. Sternly she reminded herself he was the bad guy. Bad guys shouldn’t have voices like that—it wasn’t fair.
“Yes, thank you,” she said. As her eyes adjusted she made her way over to a chair, then sat down in it as demurely as possible.
He leaned forward in the bed, covers falling to his waist, and she made herself look away.
“You want to come back to bed?” he asked. “We’ve still got a while before we land, and I could use another roll.”
She closed her eyes against the surge of longing his words lit in her. This wasn’t right.
“Do I have to?” she asked bluntly. He looked startled.
“Why should you care?” he asked. “You’ll get paid, I already promised you that. I guess my promises don’t mean very much to you, do they?”
She shook her head.
“I’ll do what it takes to survive,” she said slowly. “But I’m concerned about health and safety. We didn’t use protection last night. Do you realize that I could already be pregnant? Not to mention AIDS.”
He froze, peering at her closely through the darkness.
“You aren’t on the pill?” he asked quickly. “I don’t have AIDS, so I’m not worried about that. Unless you have it?”
She pondered telling him she did, but figured that might set him off.
“No, I’m clean,” she said slowly. “But I’m not on the pill.”
“Is that really wise for someone in your profession?”
She gave a brief, harsh laugh. She hadn’t had sex since Matt, and here Sean thought she did this every day. It would be funny if it wasn’t so damn pathetic. She couldn’t say that to him, of course. Safety lay in making him believe she was a professional who knew how to take money and keep her mouth shut.
“I prefer to use condoms,” she said simply, looking down at her folded hands. “It’s just always seemed a lot smarter to me. Protects against disease, you know.”
He nodded his head, eyes filled with a speculative look.
“Sure,” he said. “I have no problem with that.”
Silence fell between them. There was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” he asked, his voice sharp and businesslike.
The door opened a crack, and Valzar stuck his head in.
“I know you’re busy,” he said in accented tones. “But I think you should come out and see me. I’ve got some good news for you.”
Sean nodded and slid out of bed, apparently unconcerned by his nudity.
“Stay here,” he told her with a trace of humor in his voice. “Valzar, you got any clothing in here I can use?”
“In the drawer,” Valzar said, nodding his head toward the built-in dresser. “I brought some just for you.
I’ll be out front.”
With that he closed the door behind him and the room fell silent again. Sean pulled on his clothes and left without a word.
* * * * *
Valzar sat in one of the large, comfortable-looking chairs, a laptop computer propped open in front of him. He looked like a businessman, flying to some important meeting, but he was no ordinary businessman. Sean marveled again at his friend’s ingenuity. How had he wangled diplomatic immunity?
“Good news,” Valzar said, flashing Sean a grin. “Did you know you’re dead?”
“Already?” Sean asked. “They move fast. How did it happen?”
“Well, according to our friends at the CIA, you stole a small plane from the airport and disappeared soon afterward. The wreckage will be found outside Fort Wiconda in about three days, and your body will be recovered. They’re not too happy about the fact that you took a hostage, by the way.”