Nothing on Earth (5 page)

A few moments later she opened the door and asked him something about the shower. She lifted her shirt between thumb and forefinger seeming to indicate something.

“My clothes. Clothes,” she said. He lifted his own shirt in the same manner, and she nodded. “Clothes.”

When he finally realized what she was asking for he felt like a bit of an idiot. She wanted a shower and clean clothes. Putting on clean clothes was what one did after a shower. He must be losing it to miss such a simple meaning.

He nodded and turned back toward the bags John had dragged into the room earlier. “Clothes,” he said with a smile.

Tara
fell to her knees and opened the overstuffed bag.

* * * *

Tara
opened the bag quickly.

“Clothes,” Alec said again, but they weren’t just anybody’s clothes, they were her clothes. Hell, one of them—probably John—had gone through her wardrobe and filled a bag with practically everything she owned. She gasped when her hand found silk. Someone had even cleared out her lingerie draw. God she hoped that wasn’t some sort of warning of things to come.

“Tara, shower, be little.”

She looked up at him a frown contorting her face as she tried to understand his meaning. “Little?” she asked.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out, and she could see the frustration marring his handsome features. It was obvious he wanted to say much more, but he simply didn’t have the knowledge of her language.

“Little shower?” she asked again, trying to reassure him as well as understand him. “Do you mean a short shower? Get in, get out, very quick shower?” He still looked at her with that frustration brewing in his eyes. In desperation she moved to pantomime, pretending to turn on the taps, wash her hair and body, and then turn off the taps. “Little shower,” she said hopefully.

He nodded like he wanted to agree but wasn’t quite sure he should. She glanced at her watch, surprised to see that it wasn’t yet
five o’clock
. She was assuming, of course, that it was morning, although, with the absence of natural light, she really couldn’t be sure about anything.

Her watch. She lifted it to Alec’s face, pointing to the second hand as it did its rapid sweep around the dial. “Little shower,” she said, making a circle in the air. He nodded, seeming to understand what she meant.

“Little shower,” he said with a smile as he made three full circles in the air with his finger. Three minutes.

“Got it,” she said smiling. “Three minute, little shower.” She was so happy that they finally seemed to understand each other that she didn’t really care why she had to have a quick shower. Locked in this little room, the one thing they did seem to have in abundance was time.

Unwilling to think any harder on anything other than her upcoming three-minute shower, Tara rummaged through the bag, no longer surprised to find her own towels, deodorant, and toiletries on the bottom. John seemed to be a very thorough man. Unfortunately, considering her current circumstances, that probably wasn’t a good thing.

No. No thinking. Shower.

She moved into the small tiled room, careful to close the door over but not actually shut it. She quickly stripped off her clothes, uncertain whether her three minutes began when she entered the room or stepped into the shower but unwilling to waste a moment. The water was hot almost instantly, and she tilted her head forward so that the water ran over neck and shoulders.

She hadn’t realized just how cramped the muscles were until she tried to loosen them a little, and she titled her head side to side in an effort to release the knots. She lathered shampoo into her hair, massaging her scalp quickly wishing she had more time. She hurried through her shower, hopefully rinsing away the stench of fear of the last twenty-four hours.

“
Tara
,” Alec said quietly from the other side of the door.

“Yes, finished,” she said as she turned off the running water. She wrapped the towel around her but realized with dismay that Alec had taken her clothes out of the bathroom. Securing the end of the towel she peeked around the door, hoping to be able to ask why he’d done that.

Alec was hovering at the doorway, seeming quite anxious. When he saw her he reached for her wrist and dragged her into the main room. He closed the door firmly and turned to her with an apologetic look.

“Not safe,” he said as he pointed at the door.

She had no idea what he meant. The bathroom wasn’t safe? Granted, bathrooms had their dangers, but she got a feeling that he meant more than the usual household accidents.

He gestured to her clothes sitting neatly on the bed and then turned his back and politely waited for her to get dressed. That, she didn’t need to be told twice.

* * * *

Alec turned his back hoping that she understood his meaning. What he really wanted to do frightened him almost as much as it would frighten her. He’d barely spent time with any female in the last ten years—actually no time in the last six living with John—but he found himself thinking of all the possibilities and comfort a man could find in a woman’s body.

It was a ludicrous idea on several counts. She was confused and frightened, and even if she did seem receptive to his ideas, he’d never know if she gave herself to him in genuine affection or if she was just trying to appease her crazy abductors. If he was a betting man, he’d certainly pick the latter.

Besides, it was a rather moot point. He loved John, had committed his life to him a long time ago, and there was no way he would ever betray the man’s trust. John needed him now more than ever. There was no way he would hurt him like that.

Alec could hear
Tara
dressing quickly and thanked whatever deity may be watching over him. Now, if they could just find something to do for the next however many hours it took for John to return.

“Alec,” she said quietly.

He turned slowly just in case she wasn’t quite finished, relief pouring through him as he noticed the loose-fitting shirt and baggy jeans. He’d seen some of the clothes in her bag and by choosing these she sent a rather clear signal—she wasn’t dressing to impress, so, despite his unruly hormones, they were thinking the same way.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, using the only phrase he was completely sure of its meaning.

She nodded, and he moved toward the small mountain of food that John had dragged in here with everything else. She walked over to stand beside him, and he felt very grateful that at least she wasn’t frightened of him like she was of John.

His heart constricted just thinking of his lover. John had spent the last year watching over this woman, protecting her without her knowledge, probably learning everything about her. Alec knew John’s feelings for Tara were strong and extremely complex, but he also knew that John loved him and would never do anything to hurt him or Tara, even if that meant denying his own happiness.

Alec wished a million times over that he hadn’t been so difficult to live with this past year. John had deserved so much more from him, but Alec had behaved like a spoiled brat denied his favorite toy. If he’d just bothered to learn the language, things would’ve been so much easier right now.

Alec and Tara both grabbed some food and headed back to the bed, the only place to sit other than the floor. They sat in silence as they ate,
Tara
seemingly lost in her own thoughts. After several moments of fairly comfortable silence, a thought occurred to John, and he turned to
Tara
quickly.

“Tara, Alec, English,” he said stiltedly.

She looked at him like he was a puzzle to figure out. He searched for the word he wanted, but frustration crept through him as he realized he didn’t even know the word, so he had no way of remembering it. How many times had John asked him to
learn
English? Learn? It probably wasn’t the word he needed, but maybe
Tara
could decipher his meaning. He tried again.

“
Tara
learn Alec English.”

“Alec learn English?
Tara
teach Alec?” she said with a number of hand movements, touching her mouth and pointing between the two of them.

“Teach,” he said slowly, nodding his head, and hoping that was the word he needed. She smiled softly and leaned over to grab his hand. She pointed to his hand, touching all the fingers and his palm.

“Hand,” she said watching him intently. He dutifully repeated the word, flexing the appendage as he said it. She nodded and pointed to his fingers one at a time. “Finger, finger, finger, finger, thumb.”

He smiled at the musical lilt to her voice as she taught him her language. Hopefully they could both get something out of this—English language skills for him and a distraction from the reality of their current situation for her.

* * * *

John drove as fast as he dared. It had seemed to take forever to track down what he needed, but he’d finally gathered the raw materials and tools he would need to build a portable dampening field. He still hadn’t figured a way to create a false signal, so he was hoping that if he kept the field small—only big enough to surround
Tara
—that it would attract less attention from their scans. A little blind spot was far more common than a big blind spot, and if
Tara
restricted her movements to a small area, she should be safe until he could create the false signal.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He still had a lot of work to do, and he couldn’t afford to lose concentration. As much as he disliked the taste of coffee, he actually looked forward to its effects, and as soon as he got back to the house, he planned to brew a big pot.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn’t notice the markings and registration plates of the car in front of him. Adrenaline and fear coursed through him when he realized the familiar vehicle was heading to the safe house.

One eye on the road, John checked his pistol. He had no wish to kill anyone, but there was no way in hell he would let them take
Tara
.

Chapter Seven

Tara
giggled at Alec’s attempt to pronounce “abdomen.” She supposed it was a rather peculiar word, and his comical attempt probably explained why children were taught belly and tummy rather than the medical terms.

She shook her head and smiled as he tried again. “No, how about
belly
,” she said, patting her middle. They’d managed to work their way through most of the nouns in the room, but
Tara
had no idea how to teach John other words. She’d never learned a second language herself, so she really had no clue what to teach him next.

Deep in thought, she yelped in surprise when the door flew open. Two police officers leveled their guns at Alec as they called her name. “Tara Wilson?” one of them inquired. Relief washed through her, but Alec pushed her behind him and stood to confront the two men.

He started to speak rapidly in his own language, and she tried to move around him, tried to reassure him that it would be okay. These were the good guys, but maybe Alec’s loyalty to John made it difficult for him to understand that.

She tried to explain to him, but he cut her off. “No, Tara. Not safe.”

“Yes, I am,” she shouted loudly. She wriggled against his grip, but he held her tightly behind him. Desperate to be rescued,
Tara
wriggled against his hold, calling for the police officers’ assistance. Alec seemed like a great guy, but if he was going to support John in this terrifying situation, she sure as hell wanted away from him, too.

“Release her,” one of the officers yelled.

Terrified that they were going to shoot Alec,
Tara
called out, “He doesn’t speak English.”

Alec continued to yell in his own language, and
Tara
cringed in fright. The situation was getting crazier by the moment, and she truly feared the only possible end would be when someone got shot.