Murphy's Law (4 page)

* * * *

The old, bear-claw tub was filled to the top with hot, bubbly water. Lilly eyed the bath with desperation, torn between ripping off all her clothes and jumping in or remaining stubborn until Jack gave her some privacy.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked.

She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m waiting for you to leave.”

 
“I’m not leaving without your clothes.”

“Don’t you trust me?” she asked innocently.

“Only marginally less than you trust me. But I know you won’t try to leave without your clothing.”

“Turn around.”

His dark eyes danced mischievously in the dim lighting. He enjoyed inflicting humiliation on her. Refusing to let him have his way, she stepped into the bathtub, fully clothed. She wriggled out of the wet shorts and tee shirt while submerged
,
 
presenting
 
certain
 
difficulties,
 
but
 
she
 
managed
 
and
 
flashed
 
a triumphant grin.

He picked up the wet clothes from the floor. “You still have to get out of it later, Lilly.” He reached down and splashed the surface of the water, sending a hand full of bubbles into her face. She wiped it away, ready to snap again when she noticed he had left.

Finally alone
.
Without one stitch of clothing and no one to help me
.

She leaned back and let out a sigh. If she got lucky and lived through this, she might write a book about her ordeal. She’d met her share of weird characters. Jack Murphy ranked at the top of the list. She had no idea what to make of the enigmatic mercenary. He had to be freelancing for her ex-boss; otherwise, he would have shown her official identification. Besides, if her own government wanted her back, they only needed to ask and she would have returned.

Lilly sunk down into the tub to let the lavender scented water ease away her tension. She refused to waste another second of this bliss thinking about Jack. A knock on the door brought her head up with a start. He hadn’t given her five minutes of peace. “What?”

Chantal walked in, carrying a towel and some clothing. “Jack asked me to bring this for you,” Chantal explained, placing them down on a small chair next to the tub.

The French might think nothing of entertaining visitors in the bathroom, but Lilly felt uneasy when Chantal sat down on the edge of the tub.

“Thank you. I’m almost finished,” Lilly said politely, hoping the woman would take the hint to leave.

“Jack says that you and he had a—how you say—close slave at the marina.”

“Shave,” Lilly corrected.

“You are very lucky woman, don’t you think?”

Lucky?
Had Chantal thought her lucky to be forced to endure Jack’s presence for the night? “No. I don’t think I’m lucky.”

“No? But Jack is the best.”

A testimonial to Jack was the last thing she wanted to hear. Chantal spoke with such reverence that Lilly wondered if only she saw the horns and pitchfork when she looked at him. The women there seemed to think a halo floated above his head.

“If you think so much of him, you sleep with him.”

Chantal drew her brows together in confusion. Suddenly, comprehension flashed in her dark eyes, and she laughed. “No. You misunderstand. I was talking about his work.”

Lilly cast a doubtful gaze toward the heavens. “I guess even kidnappers have to have a top in their field.
Someone to look up to.”

Chantal’s eyes widened. “Jack!
A kidnapper?
No, enfant, Jack is no kidnapper. He is a—”

“Chantal,” Jack called out sharply. He strolled in the bathroom spouting something in French. When he finished his tirade, he glanced at Lilly.

The bubbles in her bath water had begun to disappear, exposing more of her body than modesty allowed. Jack’s stare remained riveted to her deep cleavage, more notably pronounced as she held her arms across her chest. She leaned forward and slid her arms around bent knees. “Would you mind leaving?”

A lazy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He leaned back and made himself comfortable. “Yes, I mind.”

Lilly yelped in frustration. She had never known a man so chronically obnoxious. She would stay in the tub until she died of exposure before she’d stand up in front of him.

“Jack. Stop teasing her. You know how repressed American women are,” Chantal chided him.

“Repressed?” he repeated with a rich, booming laugh. “She’s a wild woman.
Especially when her hands are tied.”

Lilly felt her body burn in spite of the cooling bath water. Obnoxious had been too kind. The man was a cretin.

Chantal pulled him out of the room by the arm.
“Bon ami.
Aren’t you the one who complains that a passive woman is like warm milk?
Only good for putting you to sleep.”

The second the door clicked
shut,
Lilly sprang from the tub and covered herself in the plush red towel. A quick glance at the clothes confirmed her worst fears. Chantal had loaned her a sheer nightgown and a white Victorian robe. She couldn’t have looked more bridal. If Chantal meant this to be a joke, Lilly failed to see the humor.

* * * *

Jack lit a fire in the fireplace and settled on the bed. Minutes later the door opened, and Lilly slipped in the room. When she caught sight of him, she stopped short.

He bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing. She looked like a vestal virgin being led to the sacrificial fire. He could blast Chantal with no provocation at all. Or perhaps, the
woman
 
before
him was provocation enough.
The perfect combination of raw sexuality and sensual innocence.
And she glared at him with such icy contempt that he felt a chill.

“There’s only one bed,” she said.

“I know. And I’m in it. What do you suggest?”

The hot bath failed to improve her foul disposition. She yanked the blanket off of him and grabbed a pillow, tossing them on the floor.

The warm glow of the fire cast a golden shine on the mass of wheat-colored hair that fell to her shoulders. The flimsy material of the negligee and robe hid little of her well-rounded curves as she stood in front of the only sources of light in the room.

While working, Jack tried not to notice the physical appearance of his quarry. He couldn’t stop himself from noticing her then, as she curled up in front of the fireplace to sleep. A feeling of chivalry washed over him, and he decided to offer her the bed. He ran his hand along his face, feeling the gash on his cheek, and changed his mind. She deserved a night on a hard floor.

He waited until she slept before leaving the room to speak with Chantal. He had no idea how to tell her about Stucky. They had been best friends and lovers.

Stucky introduced him to Chantal when he found himself in a tight jam. Back in the old days when he believed in his work with a passion far greater than he’d felt for any woman. What had happened to that idealistic young man who wanted to change the world?

Life had happened. Jack frowned as he thought about the last ten years. There had been no gray areas back then. He learned the lessons of life on an onyx and marble chess set in his father’s study. Everything was black and white, good or evil, and any piece could be sacrificed for the win.

Suddenly, the rules of the game changed. He could no longer tell the pawn from the king, and too many matches had ended in a stalemate. Time get out of the business and let the younger ones take over.
New blood with fresh ideals.

He didn’t need the job, and Lord knows he wasn’t in this for the money. If he wanted to live the fast life, he could have stayed in Boston. His inheritance would easily support him in luxury the rest of his life. If he wanted to remain the irresponsible, spoiled, callous youth he’d been.

Chantal sat at her desk, flipping through a book. Something in her troubled expression told him that she already knew about Stucky. He stood behind the chair and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“So am I.” She grasped his hand and squeezed it tightly. “I see the way you look at her. Be careful or that one will be the death of you.”

 
“It’s a job. I barely know her.”

She tilted her head back. “After two months? You know her better than most men know their wives. It is she who does not know you. Why you did not tell her the truth?”

“Because she’s safer if she’s afraid. I want to be damned sure she’ll testify.”

“You know what you’re doing.”

Most times he did. He lied and cheated and stole in the name of honor. He lived his life with Machiavellian certainty that the end justified the means. But when he thought about Lilly, he questioned the means. How honorable was the success of the mission if he destroyed her life in the process?

Chapter Three

Lilly stretched her arms above her head and yawned. She peered out through half-open eyes at the darkened room. Heavy velvet drapes blocked most of the early morning sun. She pulled herself up and glanced at the rumpled covers on the brass bed. Jack had left.

She crossed the room and pushed back the curtains to peek out the second story window. The back alley streets they had taken the night before were too narrow for traffic, so only pedestrians passed on the sidewalk below. A produce vendor hawked his goods from a wooden cart. She thought to yell for help, but she didn’t want to alert anyone in the theater.

On the corner of the bed she found her clothes, washed and folded. She slipped out of the nightgown and dressed quickly. If the rest of the house residents still slept, she might be able to sneak away. She tiptoed down the hall like a cat burglar, watching for signs of life. As she made her way through the empty corridors she wondered why she bothered. She had no passport or money. Jack had confiscated both that first day.

Resigned temporarily to her situation, she strolled leisurely towards the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and rinsed her mouth out with gargling solution she found on the shelf. If Jack possessed one ounce of humanity, he would return a little of her money so that she could buy a few toiletries.

Get real
, she bitterly mocked herself. If he possessed one ounce of humanity, he wouldn’t have kidnapped her.

Searching for decent character traits in Mr. Murphy took too much effort on an empty stomach. In the past two days, she’d eaten only a cheese sandwich, and her hunger left her weak. The heavenly smell of fresh baked bread filled the halls, and she followed her nose to the kitchen where the maid had begun making breakfast.

Chantal sat at the dinette table, going over her receipts of the night before.

“Bonjour.
Did you sleep well?” she asked politely.

Lilly bit back a caustic retort. The woman had done her a huge favor. “Yes, thank you.”

Chantal motioned for her to sit down. “Cafe au lait, or do you prefer the Turkish coffee?” Lilly made a distasteful face at the latter choice. “Deux cafe au lait,” Chantal instructed the maid.

“Where is Jack?”

“He went to make arrangements. But please, do not think to escape. He has Ramon watching the door.”

Ramon, the very large bouncer who made sure that the patrons didn’t get out of hand, was also a talented pianist as Lilly had heard the night before. She had no wish to wrangle with a man the size of a Kodiak bear, even if he played angelic music.

“I thought about leaving and then decided against it.” She tasted the rich brew and sent a grateful smile to the maid.
“Merci.”

“You speak French?” Chantal asked.

“No. That is the extent of my vocabulary, unless you’d like me to swear.”

Chantal laughed. “Everyone seems to speak these words, no?”

In spite of herself, Lilly smiled. “Yes.” She took another sip of her coffee and sighed. “I needed that.”

“I can ask of you a favor, please?”

Lilly nodded, wondering what she could do for her hostess.

Chantal handed her an envelope filled with American money. “You keep this in case you need later. Jack will never accept from me.”

Shyly, she pushed the envelope back. “I don’t think I should either.”

“This is no time for pride. Until you are back in America, you are not safe, and Jack too. Already they kill my Stucky. He would want me to do this.”

Lilly closed her eyes sorrowfully. She’d jumped to the wrong conclusion about Chantal’s relationship with Jack and felt foolish.
“All right.”
She stuffed the envelope in the pocket of her shorts. She might need it herself.

“And Lilly.
You listen to what Jack says to you. He will be sure no harm comes to you if you follow orders. He is good man even if the work he does is sometimes not so good.”