Hostage to Love (Entangled Suspense) (12 page)

But for now, her safety came first.

That meant getting to the bottom of just what Richard Francis knew. The reporter had been decidedly cryptic when Nick had spoken to him on the phone two nights ago. He’d deliberately delayed getting in touch with Francis, because he’d wanted to gather as much information on him as possible.

So far, the
Daily Bugle
reporter seemed clean. But Nick wasn’t naïve enough to believe that everything was above board. Francis had used the one name he knew would get Nick’s attention. But he wouldn’t hesitate to shut him down if the guy in any way threatened Belle’s safety.

Which brought him to the next thing riling him. The idea of letting a complete stranger onto the island made him seriously nervous, but leaving Belle here alone to go meet with Francis was out of the question.

It was a good thing Alex had sent additional security from his personal team. Now he had two-dozen men protecting the island—more than enough to safeguard the most important thing in his life.

And yet he couldn’t relax.

Every time he stopped for a moment or closed his eyes, he remembered the terror he’d felt when he thought his wife was lost to him. It was the same terror he’d experienced when he’d heard her scream in her sleep.

The doctor he’d flown in had prescribed her mild sleeping pills after Nick had brushed aside Belle’s protests and told him about her nightmare.

Holding her in his arms, feeling her tremble with fear had been one of the hardest things he’d ever gone through. Keeping his anger at bay for the thug who’d done this to her while fighting the intense reaction holding her close brought had tested his every last reserve.

Thankfully, she hadn’t suffered any more nightmares since that first night—he knew because he’d listened for her.

Baby steps
, the doctor had advised.

Not the most patient of men at the best of times, Nick was going insane waiting for answers. He’d never hidden the fact that he was a man who felt most comfortable in control of his destiny. The dent to that control, and yes, to his pride, when Tinkerbelle had walked away rankled deep; still rankled, truth be told.

The sinking realization that he hadn’t been enough for her made his fists clench. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. She’d
claimed
he was everything to her at the beginning. He’d believed her, dammit, believed they didn’t need anything else but each other.

He needed to know why she’d changed the rules. He certainly wasn’t prepared…Wasn’t equipped to grant her what she’d asked for…

The very thought of bringing a child into this mess made ice flow through his veins, bringing with it a sense of helplessness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

No. He wanted her back, but he wasn’t prepared to turn himself inside out for her. And he damned well wasn’t about to let her go. Which meant things were about to get…interesting.

He gave a hollow laugh, closed his eyes, and pictured her perfect body by the pool just now. Damn, the way the tiny bikini clung to her figure, barely leaving anything to the imagination, had made him so hot he’d forgotten how to breathe. She’d tried to hide herself from him, but he didn’t need to see to remember. The instant hard-on, the knot in his gut, and the hammering of his heart were proof enough his wife still held him in thrall.

But, he cautioned himself as he opened his eyes and clawed a hand through his hair, all of that meant nothing if he couldn’t trust her not to desert their marriage. Without trust, sex was just…sex.

He let out a frustrated sigh.

Straightening, he touched a button and brought his computer back to life. When he saw the picture of Richard Francis, his jaw tightened. The reporter’s features were nondescript—short, mousy-brown hair, an unkempt beard, and dull brown eyes. Nick minimized the file and tensed when he saw an email from John Allen.

Adrenaline shooting through him, he read it, only to sit back a second later.

Dammit,
nothing
was going his way. He hit the first number on his speed dial.

“In a world made smaller by smart technology, how can it be this hard to find one man?” he snapped the moment Allen answered.

“Africa is a beautiful place, Mr. Andreakos. But it’s also a perfect hiding place if one
chooses
not to use any technology. We believe that’s what Mwana’s doing—opting for total electronic blackout so he can’t be traced. But he’s bound to surface sometime.”

Nick gritted his teeth. “I’m not a man who enjoys waiting around for things to happen.
Sometime
isn’t good enough. If you have to go back into the jungle to flush him out, do it.”

He hung up in time to see Belle rise out of the pool, her body outlined perfectly in the sunlight. Lust slammed through him, momentarily erasing the ripple of anxiety that had taken solid root inside him.

Fucking baby steps
. Well, if that’s what Belle needed, then baby steps were what she’d get. Starting with the familiar pastime that had brought them both pleasure in the past. A rare smile broke through his frustration as he picked up the house phone and relayed his instructions.

…

“
Kalispera, pethi mou
. I hope you’re feeling better after your swim?”

Now adequately clothed and seated in the cool living room, Belle looked up at the evening greeting. Nick came toward her, a box in his hand, closely followed by Sophia, the young maid, carrying a tray.

“What are you doing?” She answered his question with one of her own, surprise shrilling her voice when he paused next to her, put the box on the table, and started arranging the cushions more comfortably around her.

He indicated where he wanted the hovering maid to place the drinks and… popcorn?

“It’s Thursday,” came the cryptic reply. He sat next to her and dismissed the maid.

Belle tore her gaze from the play of taut thigh muscles beneath corded trousers.

“I know what day it is. That’s not what I asked. I asked what you—”

“Have you forgotten? Thursday night is Trekkie Night. I’ve got, let’s see…
Deep Space Nine
,
Voyager
, and your favorite,
The Next Generation
. Or, if you insist, we can watch the latest movie. I’ll even try and stop myself from punching the screen when you swoon over the lead actor. So…want to toss me for it?” His easy smile nearly undid her, but she held firm, watching his hand disappear into his pocket and emerge with a coin. She drew in a shaky breath, unwanted memories pouring over her like a flashflood.

Their Thursday nights together were one of the things she’d missed most about her marriage. She’d hurry home from the part-time evening teaching position she’d taken near their London penthouse in Knightsbridge and set out the drinks and Blu-rays. After a leisurely shower, she’d make oodles of buttery popcorn sprinkled with cinnamon, just the way Nick liked it. Once he arrived, they’d unplug the phone and watch disc after disc of
Star Trek
, sometimes mimicking the well-known characters, until the silly role-playing inevitably culminated in torrid lovemaking on the sofa. A lump lodged in her throat at the painful memory.

“No. No, Nick, we’re not those people anymore.” It broke her heart to say it.

“We’re not closet Trekkies anymore?” he asked in a mock whisper, looking over his shoulder with exaggerated concern to see if anyone had overheard him. “I don’t think you’re allowed to leave the club once you’re in. I hear it’s like
Fight Club
, or something.”

Her lips reluctantly twitched as she fought the urge to smile, but pain registered deep inside her.

“You know what I’m talking about. We used to do that when…before… everything else happened.”

“And we can do it again. There’s nothing to stop us. All you need to do is say yes.” His voice was soft, but his piercing gaze willed her to say the word. She had a feeling he wasn’t talking about just watching the sci-fi series.

The question was, did she want to? Did she want to travel down this particular memory lane with him, knowing it would only lead to other memories she didn’t want to relive? She turned away and glanced at the huge bowl of popcorn in front of her, her mouth watering at the promise of the buttery snack.

God, she’d missed this. So much. What was the harm in indulging just this once? Just one more time before it all ended?

She looked up to find him still focused on her. Against her better judgment, she opened her mouth. “Yes.”

He flipped the coin. She won. Without comment, he inserted the chosen disc into the machine and took his seat next to her.

Three hours later, Nick reached for the remote and turned the TV off.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” His hooded eyes rested on her face in a caressing look that sent her pulse thundering.

“No, it wasn’t,” she answered truthfully. She didn’t know whether it was the recollection of the old camaraderie they’d shared or the decision to let the truce run its course, see where it led them, but when she looked at him, she felt neither the sharp pain nor the bitter disappointment that lurked, ready to pounce.

Now all she remembered was how easily they’d shared laughter at the beginning of their marriage. She smiled at him and rose from her seat.

“I enjoyed it a lot, but I’m tired now. I think I’ll turn in. Good night—” Her words faltered when he grasped her wrist, imprisoning her with a firm, strong hand.

“Don’t go yet, it’s still early. Stay and share a nightcap with me.”

“Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She didn’t trust herself around him, especially when he was being laid-back and charming.

“Why not? The doctor said a small drink won’t interfere with your sleeping pills, so what’s the harm?”

She opted not to tell him she’d stopped taking the pills a couple of days ago. Thankfully, the one terrifying nightmare hadn’t returned. What she wasn’t thankful for was the feeling of knife-sharp hunger that accompanied going to bed, wishing for the strong arms Nick had wrapped around her when her nightmare had seized her.

The pleasure-pain that came with her longing for his warm body next to hers had made lying in the large bed upstairs so much harder to bear. It also didn’t help that her memories of the bliss she’d enjoyed there replayed like a never-ending movie every night.

The need not to experience it again so soon made her nod. “All right.”

His smile was pure, lethal charm. “White or red?”

“Red sounds great.” She sat back down and watched him stride over to the extensive drinks cabinet.

“Would you like to take them out on the terrace?” he asked as he came back toward her holding two filled wine glasses.

The chance to breathe in some fresh air and digest the
mezedes
, which Demetra had served halfway through their Trekkathon, was welcome. It always amazed her how much of the small dishes of assorted lamb, pastry, and stuffed vine leaves she could put away. At this rate, she’d regain the weight she’d lost in no time.

“Okay.” She preceded him onto the terrace. The view of the rising moon over the sea, creating a shimmering silver path, was breathtaking. She took a sip of her full-bodied claret and felt the slow burn of the liquid ease through her. Nick moved next to her and braced his shoulder against the stone pillar, his gaze fixed firmly on her face.

A soft breeze whispered through her light green cotton dress, making her aware of the cooling temperature. It also brought the sandalwood-tinged scent of Nick’s aftershave, coupled with the muskiness that was uniquely his. Recollection of what it was like to breathe in the warmth of his skin made her shiver.

He pounced on her reaction and moved closer. “Are you cold?”

“Um, no, not really—” His arm around her shoulders, drawing her into the warmth of his body, dried her words. She inhaled sharply, her whole being tightening in reaction to his touch. She felt the familiar flaring of her senses as her body’s antennae strained toward him. The wine goblet wobbled in her shaky hand. She took a huge sustaining gulp, then relinquished it without a fight when he took it from her.

Setting their glasses down on the terrace wall, he wrapped his other arm around her, his unwavering eyes on hers. Her heart tripped at the fierce arousal stamped on his face.

He pulled her closer, crushing her against him from chest to thigh.

After several weeks of self-imposed abstinence from alcohol and months of abstinence from him, the combination of wine and Nick shot her from sober to intoxicated within seconds. He’d been waiting, biding his time. She’d seen the barely concealed hunger with which he’d looked at her the past couple of days as she’d gotten stronger, and had chosen to believe she was imagining it.

But now his hunger was unleashed. She barely gulped in another breath before he lunged with the ferocity of a jungle predator.

The hand on her shoulder traced up her neck and sank into her hair, pulling her head back to tilt her face up to his. She lost herself in the molten silver of his eyes as, with a faint growl, he plunged down and took her mouth with his. The exquisite sensuality of his lips and the undeniable imprint of his arousal against her belly made arrows of sensation shoot through her. Her lips parted in a gasp.

He didn’t take advantage of the opening. Instead his tongue swirled over her upper and then her lower lip in lazy exploration. After endless minutes spent tasting her, he drew her lower lip fully into his mouth, sucked on her tender flesh until she whimpered with need. Feeling her bones turn liquid with desire, she clutched the sleek muscles of his back to stay upright.

When she thought she couldn’t stand another second of the torment, he plunged his tongue inside her mouth, commencing a furious duel with hers. Molten heat pooled between her legs. Her hands contracted, nails digging through his shirt and into his hard flesh. He groaned, and she felt his cock surge against her belly. His hand freed her hair to chart a path of fire down her neck. He traced the frenzied pulse there, then skimmed his hand down over her collarbone to palm one breast.

Her nipples peaked instantly in wanton invitation, eager to feel the rough abrasion of his thumb.