Chapter Six
Heat pressed down like a pillow, muffling her breath.
She couldn’t remember ever feeling such heat, and such punishing humidity. Thank God the car was air conditioned, Sandra thought grimly. Otherwise she’d be dead by now.
She and Sean sat in the backseat of a Lexus SUV, a far cry from her worn Honda. Valzar sat in the passenger seat, drumming his fingers idly against his leg. Their driver, a tall, dark-featured man with a scarred lip, drove in silence. In fact, she hadn’t heard him say a single word since he’d picked them up at the airport. She hadn’t seen Del.
She wanted to ask where they were going, but judging from the looks Valzar had given her before, conversation wasn’t a good idea. He seemed to take her presence as a personal insult, so instead of talking she watched out the window as they drove. She was pretty sure they were in South America. The accents and climate told her that much. They had landed on a small airstrip in the mountains. Now they were traveling through dense jungle, and she could only see the road ahead. Trees and foliage surrounded them on both sides, making the way nearly passable.
“Almost there,” Valzar said from the front seat. “You can stay as long as you like, of course. When you’re ready to discuss your future and other options, let me know. I’ve got some ideas we can look into.”
Even as he spoke, they came around a bend in the road into a clearing. Perched on a hillside before them was a white, stucco-covered villa four times the size her parents’ house had been. Two wings extended to either side, accented gracefully by the explosion of tropical flowers from the well-manicured bushes.
“It’s paradise,” she said softly, then blushed as both men turned to her. Sean smiled; Valzar’s expression was more difficult to read.
“We’re hundreds of miles from the nearest town,” Valzar said. “This jungle is filled with animals that would love to kill and eat you. Don’t think for one moment that there’s any way for you to get away unless we send a plane for you.”
She bit her lip and looked away. Sean nudged her and grinned.
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “I promised you that already.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, friend,” Valzar said tightly.
They fell silent. The driver turned off the large SUV, unlocking the doors with a click. Sean opened his and stepped out, pulling her behind him, and the heat hit her like a wall. The house seemed further away.
They walked toward it quickly, but she could already feel the sweat running down her back and pooling between her breasts. It didn’t help that she wore oversized men’s clothing; that had been all they had on the plane. The legs were far too long for her, and she only had one shoe. She watched her step carefully, expecting some kind of poisonous tropical bug to run out and bite her, but nothing happened.
They entered the house and another wave of cool air conditioning washed over her. She all but moaned with pleasure. They were in a large entry hall. It held a high ceiling adorned with a giant chandelier. The floor was tiled with cool, brown stones, and a broad staircase opened into the center of the room before them. Halfway up it split into two opposing staircases. They led to an open, galleried second floor.
“Nice,” Sean said shortly, casting a glance at Valzar. “Do I want to know who this place belongs to?”
“My family,” Valzar said, sketching a short, mocking bow. “My father has always believed that wise men should have a nice, secure place to wait out a revolution. It’s come in handy over the years. We have a skeleton staff here. They’ll see to all your needs. They’re very discreet, of course.”
Someone coughed, and she noticed a man dressed in khaki pants and a white shirt standing off to one side. Valzar nodded at him, and he stepped forward.
“I’m Eduardo,” he said in softly accented tones. “I run the household here, as well as being in charge of security. If you need anything at all, please just let me know.”
“Thank you,” Sean said.
“Eduardo has been with our family for more than 20 years,” Valzar said. “He does far more for us than simply run the household.”
“I understand,” Sean said, and his eyes took on a new look. Sadness? It was hard to know. She could tell that something was going on here, but she had no idea what it might be.
“I trust that Eduardo isn’t so zealous in doing his duty that he won’t check with me before doing me any favors?” Sean asked pointedly. “I would take that as a personal insult, no matter how good the intentions were.”
“I respect your right to handle your own affairs, Senor,” Eduardo said. He shot her a look Sandra didn’t like one bit. “The situation is fully under your jurisdiction. I’m simply available should you need any help.”
Shit, they were talking about her. About k illing her. She shivered, and edged closer to Sean without thinking. He wrapped one arm around her, comforting her, and Valzar shot her another sharp look. She was tired of all these men looking at her, judging her. All she wanted was to go home.
“Senorita, Maria will show you to your room,” Eduardo said smoothly, nodding at a young woman who seemed to appear out of nowhere. She was pretty, with dark hair and flashing eyes. Her lips were red and pouting, and her maid’s uniform did nothing to hide her lush figure.
“Please come with me,” she said. “I have a room prepared for you in the guest quarters.”
“She’ll stay in the same room as me,” Sean said, looking down at her proprietarily. “She’s mine.”
Rosa’s mouth tightened, but she nodded and gestured toward the stairs. “Please come with me, Senorita
.”
Sandra didn’t want to leave Sean, but he dropped his arm and nodded for her to go. She didn’t trust these people, and it occurred to her that she probably shouldn’t trust him, either. Sean was her enemy, the man originally responsible for kidnapping her, but now she longed for his presence. He seemed so much safer, so much less frightening than all these other people. What was that called? Stockholm Syndrome? She’d heard of it before but never dreamt she’d experience it for herself.
Something so unnatural shouldn’t feel so right—it wasn’t fair.
Slowly she followed the maid up the stairs, unconsciously noting the quality of workmanship that had gone into creating the villa. Everything was made of solid wood or tile, all of which bore the signs of hand-workmanship. Large paintings hung on the walls, including portraits of strong, menacing-looking Spaniards and delicate white beauties. Family portraits? Valzar’s people went back a long way; he must be some kind of aristocrat. Definitely old money.
They came to the top of the stairs and she followed her guide through the gallery. As they left the entrance hall and started down a hallway, she realized the house was even larger than she’d initially thought. The hall was bordered by rooms for a few meters, but as they turned a corner one wall fell away, revealing an open courtyard. Hot air hit her again, but it wasn’t as bad as outside. How did they do that?
The house enclosed the entire courtyard, all of which seemed to open either on to the gallery above or the courtyard itself on the lower levels. There was a large, luxurious swimming pool, as well as immaculately sculpted gardens and several fountains. Even a fake stream had been cleverly designed to run through the grounds, and in the distance, she could hear the chirping of birds. It was the most incredible thing she’d ever seen in her life.
Rosa seemed hardly to notice. She abruptly stopped in front of two large, wooden doors, then opened them and nodded toward the cool, dark interior. Sandra walked in and the doors closed behind her. She whirled, expecting to see Rosa behind her. Instead, she heard a snicking sound and realized the maid had locked her in.
* * * * *
“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” Valzar said. He and Sean sat in a tastefully decorated study, a room more likely to be found in a British hunt club than the jungles of the Amazon. “You can reach me any time with Eduardo’s help. We have a full communications center here, including subscriptions to all the mainstream news services, as well as more specific researching tools. I’ve prepared a file of financial information for you. You’ll want to know how much money you have, I’m sure, and you’ll need to make decisions as to what you’ll be doing with yourself.”
“Thanks,” Sean said, nodding his head in appreciation. He reached out to take the file Valzar handed to him, flipping through it. Right on top was a passport. He opened it up, discovered a worn picture of himself. Next to it was a name, Joe McMurray, Irish national.
“It looks good,” he said slowly. “As always, I’m impressed with how thorough you are. You always think of everything, Valzar.”
“Thank you,” his friend said, smiling briefly. “I’ve got more for you, though. Here’s some information our friends have come up with on your girl. Fresh off the fax.”
He handed another file to Sean, and then sat back. Sean took it and flipped it open. The fax transmission was grainy, but there was no mistaking his little toy in the picture. She smiled broadly at the camera.
Probably a driver’s license photo. He scanned the accompanying information quickly.
Sandra Vicars, 27 years old, single. Residence: 1536 N. Welby, Apt. #6, Danforth, Texas. Five feet, six inches in height, 135 pounds. Next of kin listed as an aunt in New York. Occupation: massage therapist.
He flipped the page, moving on to the next sheet, absorbing the information quickly. Her parents were dead, her only brother in prison for drug trafficking, 18 years left to go on a federal charge. She had worked at a sports health clinic for five years before starting her own practice, a bad move since the economy had been down for quite a while. Now her bank accounts were all but empty and her practice seemed to be languishing. No criminal history, no suspicions of prostitution.
That caught his eye fast enough.
“It says here she’s a massage therapist with no history of prostitution,” he said slowly. “She told me she’s a working girl. How do you figure that?”
“Keep reading,” Valzar said slowly. Sean nodded, eyes quickly covering the page. She was well liked by her neighbors, all of whom were horrified that she’d be taken hostage by a dangerous escaped felon. The press was already hard a work digging up her background for their stories, and the sports clinic where she’d worked was offering a 10,000 reward for information leading to her whereabouts. Her former fiancé, a man who had broken up with her nearly nine months back, was devastated, and had already made a public appearance on one of the local television stations to beg for her return.
“This isn’t good,” Sean said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I thought she was a pro, someone who would be easy to buy off. That’s not going to happen with a woman like this. She’ll never understand.”
“I know,” Valzar said slowly, shaking his head. “I can see you’re attached to her, although I can’t fathom why. Perhaps it’s because you’ve been without a woman for so long? It doesn’t matter, though. You have to get rid of her. I brought in Rosa for you, she can see to all your needs. I’ll take care of the Vicars woman.”
“No,” Sean said, a wave of anger washing over him. The thought of Valzar touching his little toy made his head hurt, and he had to restrain himself from reaching across and hitting the man. “She’s mine and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you touch her. It’s not open for discussion.”
“Have it your way,” Valzar replied, one eyebrow raised and a knowing expression on his face. “She’s not a threat to me, it’s your ass on the line. Our CIA friends don’t like to be embarrassed, and I can assure you that they don’t like loose ends.”
He handed another sheaf of papers to Sean, then stood and walked over to the full bar that took up the far end of the room.
“Drink?” he asked. Sean nodded his head.
“Scotch,” he said, reading the new information restlessly. It was the rough draft of a newspaper article about his escape. Dangerous criminal, riot, hostage, etc. He skipped down toward the end, and read about his own death with a sense of grim satisfaction. His hostage had been identified as Sandra Vicars, and her burned body had been discovered with his in the plane wreckage. By the next morning, every one of her friends in Texas would read about it in their newspapers. Somebody would inform the aunt, and Sandra Vicar’s small estate would go into probate.
The former fiancé would have to find a new way to get on TV.
Valzar returned with a small glass of amber fluid, handing it to Sean. He drained the drink in one smooth motion, enjoying the way it burned down his throat. Damn, it was good to be out of prison.
“I need to be leaving soon,” Valzar said. “Is there anything that you need from me before I go?”
Sean shook his head, lost in thought.
“No, everything you’ve done for me is wonderful,” he said. “I can never thank you enough. I’ll let you know when I decide what my next step is.”
“Sounds good,” Valzar said. He stood, and Sean started to follow him. He waved him off.
“No, sit and relax,” he said. “I want you to enjoy yourself for now. It’s been far too long since you’ve had any privacy and space. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
With that he turned and left the room, leaving Sean alone with his thoughts.
* * * * *
Sandra sat quietly in the room, unsure what to do with herself. She’d explored a bit, discovering that their bedroom was attached to a large, lovely balcony overlooking a private courtyard. There was a spacious bathroom complete with a whirlpool tub and shower for two.
It was nicer than anything she’d ever seen. What kind of money did it take to maintain a place like this out in the middle of nowhere, and how had it been earned? She shuddered to think. She stood and walked over to the balcony, looking out at the small courtyard. She could climb down easily enough, but there was no point. Even if she managed to get away from the house, she had no doubt the jungle would kill her. She didn’t even like camping back home; a jungle trek was completely out of the question as far as she was concerned. She’d last about ten minutes, if that.
No, her salvation lay in convincing Sean to let her go, making him believe she was no threat at all. In all honesty, she wasn’t. If she could magically transport herself home right now she wouldn’t call the police.
Hell, no. She was more of afraid of him than anything else, and if he didn’t get her, his friend Valzar would.
She had to make peace with him.
The door opened behind her, and she started. It was Rosa, her face cool and hostile.
“I have clothing here for you,” she said. “You are probably too fat for it, but it’s the best I could do.”
She dumped a pile of fabric rudely on the bed and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Whatever else Rosa might be, she certainly wasn’t a potential ally.
She walked over to the clothing and sifted through it, discovering several light, simple cotton blouses and long flowing skirts in bright colors. No bra and underwear, but she could wash out the ones she wore.
Not wearing underwear might turn him on… anything she could do to keep him interested was a good thing.
She pulled off her oversized, male clothing and pulled on the fresh garments. The light cotton blouse had a loose, wide neckline that dipped low. She looked in the mirror, noting that her breasts filled it out nicely, and thankful that they were small enough that she could get away with not wearing a bra. Her nipples formed pert peaks underneath the fabric, and she imagined she could see just a hint of color through the thin cotton. She pulled on the skirt next, enjoying the swirl of it around her ankles. The thin cotton might be enveloping, but she had no doubt direct sunlight would render it nearly transparent.
Normally she would have been embarrassed to wear something like this, but now she put her shoulders back and shook out her hair. There was power in being female, a power that she needed to tap into and use to the best of her ability. This clothing was perfect.
She went into the bathroom and had started to rinse out her bra when she heard the door open again.
She walked back out and saw Sean standing there. He looked at her with darkened eyes, a thoughtful, calculating expression on his face.
“Hello,” she said softly, smiling at him. Things seemed less strange with him in the room. He was her link to reality, the reason she was there.
“Rosa gave me some new clothing,” she said unnecessarily. His eyes flickered across her figure, pausing at her breasts, and she thrust them out toward him.
“I like it,” she said, walking toward him, allowing her hips to swing as she moved. “It’s cool and comfortable.”
He stayed silent, so she sashayed closer, resting one hand on his chest.
“You seem tired,” she said. “Do you want to come to bed and rest? I’d be happy to give you a massage.”
“How about a blow job?” he asked, his eyes boring into hers. “That’s more along the lines of what I’d like.”
He seemed distant, almost angry, but she nodded her head and gave a hesitant smile. She could do this, nothing to worry about. She reached for the waistband of his pants, unfastening them carefully. He wore boxers, plain white ones. What now? He didn’t do anything to help her, and she pulled back hesitantly.
“Where do you want me to do it?” she asked softly. “There’s got to be a better place than right here in the middle of the room.”
“Why do you care?” he asked, all but snarling. “I thought you were a professional. Don’t tell me you’re uncomfortable giving me a simple blowjob. Drop to your knees and do it.”
She nodded, and wished for the thousandth time that she hadn’t taken the private appointment with Edgar. Then she gave herself a mental shake. No time for regrets.
Sandra dropped to her knees, grasping the fabric of his pants to steady herself as she swayed. Kneeling, she could see the bulge of his penis beneath the boxers. She took a deep breath, reached both hands up and grasped the waistband. She had done this with Matt, she reminded herself, and at least this guy wasn’t lying to her like her fiancé had.
Slowly the boxers came down. His penis bobbed before her, an angry red giant that seemed far too large for her mouth to accommodate. She licked her lips nervously and shot him a quick glance. He still stared at her with that strange, angry expression on his face, as if she’d disappointed him. What did he want from her?
It was too scary to imagine what was going through his head, so she turned her attention back to the task at hand. She reached out, tracing the edge of the head with one finger. He didn’t respond, although his erection bobbed under her touch. She let her hand fall lower, grasping the smooth, silky shaft with gentle force. Then she leaned her head forward and delicately touched her tongue to the very tip of his length.
He shuddered, and she took it as a sign of encouragement. Sticking her tongue out further, she swirled it around the head a couple times, allowing her saliva to run out and lubricate his flesh before closing her mouth around the tip. He shuddered, one hand coming to rest on the back of her head, giving an ever-so-slight pressure as he pulled her closer to him. She opened her mouth further, allowing his hard length to come into her.
At first it seemed he was so large he would choke her, and she hadn’t even gotten more than a few inches past the head. But after a moment her mouth relaxed and opened further, and he pushed in deeper. She laved her tongue along his length, then pulled back her head and let some of him come free.
Time to start the rhythm that drove men crazy. She’d done it for Matt, and he’d always said she was a good little cocksucker, she thought in disgust. Of course, he’d never said anything so foul to her face.
He’d waited until they had broken up, and then shared the story of their last time together with all of his friends. Sean might be a kidnapper, but so far he was more of a gentleman than that a*shole.
She pushed the horrible thought out of her head, preferring to focus on the task at hand. She found that if she rubbed her hand up and down along his shaft as she sucked at him, he seemed to appreciate it. He still said nothing, but his hand tightened on her hair. She could feel the first drops of his seed in her mouth now, just a little salty taste of what was to come. She had always hated the taste of a man’s semen, but his wasn’t that bad. Almost sweet in a way, and very pleasant. Without thinking she sucked harder, as if to pull more of the juice from him.
He grunted and she swallowed more of his cock. It had gotten to the point where she actually wanted him in her. She could feel her breasts swelling, and knew there was moisture building between her legs.
What kind of slut was she? The kind who wants to stay alive, her brain told her firmly. The kind who knows that having sex to survive would be more palatable if she could bring herself to enjoy it. There were worse fates than being forced to make love to a man who was incredibly handsome, and more than a little attractive to her. Her situation might be precarious, but she still had a few chances left. She needed to make the most of the fragile bond he’d formed with her.
She sucked him in deeper, wrapping one arm around his waist to support herself. Unconsciously she dug her fingers into the taut muscle of his ass, and he seemed to like the sensation. His cock surged within her mouth and more of his fluid seeped out of his slit.
With every thrust she tried to massage him with her tongue, and each time he pulled out she used suction to hold him as long as she could. Back and forth, in and out. Her hand worked furiously, rubbing along his length and taking care of the parts that her mouth couldn’t reach. She felt his other hand grip the back of her head and knew he was getting close.
Then he shifted, letting his legs stand apart a bit, giving her better access. She used the opportunity to reach between his buttocks, allowing her fingers to play with the tightened skin of his scrotum. His balls pulled up close to his body as he neared ejaculation. She suctioned harder, working him as hard as she could, driving him closer to orgasm even as her fingers plucked at his balls, pulling on them lightly.
He gave a startled groan above her and his fingers tightened in her hair to the point of pain. She ignored it, putting everything she had into sucking him. He started to thrust into her harder and she felt the skin of his cock harden almost beyond imagining.
With a harsh cry, he shot his seed into her mouth, all but choking her. The salty, sweet fluid tasted better than any she’d had before, and she found herself swallowing it without feeling sick as she had so often with Matt. Burst after burst of his essence filled her and she sucked it down greedily.
Finally it stopped. She took a moment to lick around his cock, cleaning it up, and then sat back on her heels. His hands were gone from her head, and when she looked up at him he seemed lost in thought.
“We have to talk,” he said after a moment. He wiped his forehead and she noticed a bead of sweat making its way down his temple. “Let’s go out on the balcony. It’s a lovely place to sit and visit.”
Absently wiping her mouth against her sleeve, she accepted the hand up he offered. His fingers were hard, filled with strength, and once again she sensed that tension in him. Whatever was bothering him, sex hadn’t taken the edge off. When they were sitting comfortably in the two chairs on either side of the small table on their balcony, he turned to look at her.
“I know who you are, Sandra Vicars,” he said softly. “And I know you’re not a whore, even though you’re doing your best to act like one. Now I need to figure out what to do with you. Valzar wants me to kill you, says I need to do it for my own safety. What other options do you have for me?”