Angel Face (14 page)

“Revolting,” she murmured, piling the dishes in the overloaded double sink. Their long-suffering mother had used the term to describe the state of her two children’s bedrooms when they were growing up, and it had become Jordan and Penny’s official greeting whenever they saw each other.

“Rev
ohhhhhhlting
!” they would exclaim, competing to express the most horror at the other’s revoltingness.

Penny’s gag reflex had won her the prize every time. But eventually they’d grown into bigger and better things, and a new adjective had been necessary by their teens:
incorrigible.
Jordan had reigned supreme with that one. He’d been the king of incorrigible.

“Rrrrrrrrrrrruf,” came a bark from the other room. Birdy was doing her dog imitation.

Penny resisted barking back. The cockatiel didn’t need any encouragement, and besides, Penny was in the mood
to let her thoughts drift and go where they would. She loaded the dishwasher with a sense of bemusement as she recalled her brother’s wilder days. It used to annoy the spit out of her when the girls at school fawned over Jordan. Some of them were sneaky enough to befriend her just to get invited to the house, where the silly idiots would simper and giggle whenever Jordan noticed them. And he took full advantage, the fiend.

Things had come too easily for her big brother, and that had worried Penny, who was closer to him than anyone else. He was smart and quick and square of jaw, with cobalt eyes rumored to induce fainting spells. It was a miracle he finished college the way women threw themselves at him. But Jordan was no saint. He took advantage of his mystique when he saw the riches it could bring him, cutting a swath through the female population with a recklessness that invited disaster. And when it struck, it was far worse than Penny could have imagined.

Jordan briefly dallied with a neighborhood girl who’d been infatuated with him for years. She was too young and vulnerable, and he knew it, but when he broke it off, she became desperate and depressed. No one, including Jordan, realized how despondent she was until she took her own life. It was a brutal lesson in accountability, and for better or worse, Jordan was never the same. He couldn’t drift anymore. He had to find a way to deal with the tragedy, and medical school became the outlet. He’d been accepted primarily because of his genius for inventing, but he threw himself into his studies, forgoing dating or anything that resembled a romantic relationship with a woman.

His dedication made him the surgeon he was today, but his quest to save lives had caused Penny to wonder if he was trying to make up for one so needlessly lost. As quests go, it was probably a good one, but she worried that he would never have the love and intimacy in his life
that everyone deserved. He seemed unable to resolve his guilt, and he was driven to fix the unfixable.

“Jordan needs some lovin’,” Penny advised Birdy as she returned to the living room with some Total Diet bird seed. “And you can tell him that for me.”

Penny considered taking Birdy home with her while Jordan was gone, but there went her excuse to drop in and snoop. No, this was too good an opportunity, and she hadn’t yet given up on her own quest, which was to see that her brother had a fulfilling life, whether he wanted one or not. She was certain there would be no lack of interested women if Jordan would only cooperate . . . and there was that simply lovely dark-haired girl at the salon that other morning.

“This could be fate,” she mused. “We were next to each other at the shampoo bowls, this adorable young woman and I, and she asked if I was any relation to Dr. Jordan Carpenter. I have no idea how she knew me, but I didn’t see any reason not to tell her that I was Jordan’s sister, and it turned out that she was a doctor, too! A surgeon, I think she said. We didn’t get to talk long, but I had the feeling she was quite interested in Jordan.”

“Here kitty, kitty, kitty!”

“Birdy, pay attention. Do you love it? I may have found someone for Jordan. Or she may have found me.”

Birdy chattered away, amusing herself by alternately calling the kitty and barking like a dog. Penny was about to muzzle the bird when suddenly the cockatiel went quiet.

“Who’s there?” Birdy said.

Penny glanced over her shoulder at the front door. She hadn’t heard anyone on the porch, and the steps were known to creak loudly. She would have dismissed it, but Birdy had gone preternaturally still, and her behavior was so odd that Penny turned all the way around and looked at the door. What was wrong with the silly creature? She
walked to the door and switched on the porch light before opening it.

“No one there, see?” She waved her hand toward the empty threshold and gave Birdy a look that said,
Happy now?
Actually, Penny was relieved. The bird had her going, as did all the serial killer stuff Jordan was involved in. And now he’d run off somewhere. She didn’t know what she was going to tell their parents if they called, but obviously she would cover for him. She always had.

She was about to shut the door when she saw something in the mirror across the room. It was a reflection from the window behind her, a watery sensation of movement. It could have been nothing, a tree branch, or it could have been someone walking alongside the house. Damn, she hated this sort of thing. It seemed silly to call 911 at this stage. It probably
was
nothing, but where was Jordan, anyway? And why hadn’t he done anything more than leave her a cryptic message before he took off, asking her to take care of the bird?

A rustling sound caught her attention, and she was instantly on guard. She really had heard something this time, and it had come from out front. She peered through the open door, and then quietly let herself out onto the porch. It could be anything, a neighbor’s pet. Still, she was uneasy as she searched the darkness.

“Who’s there?”

As she started for the steps, a runner darted from the bushes. He was headed for the front gate and obviously male by the way he was built and his spiky crew cut. Penny dashed down the steps to get a better look. Jordan had often accused her of being fearless, and he would have cited this move as proof, she knew.

“Hey! What are you doing?” she called out.

Something whipped past her and hit one of the porch columns with a sharp crack. Penny nearly fell over, trying to get out of the missile’s way, and by the time she caught
her balance, the runner was gone. He’d banged out the gate and melted into the darkness.

“Heeeeeeeere’s Johnny,” Birdy called from inside.

On the way back into the house, Penny saw what the man had thrown at her. There was a large rock near the doorway. She was lucky it hadn’t hit her, although she doubted that was his goal. She would have been an easy enough target with the light from the house behind her. He was probably trying to keep her from seeing him because he didn’t want to be identified for some reason.

She would love to have known why.

I
T
astounded her that she knew exactly how to interrogate a hostage. The steps were right there in her head:
First render him helpless physically. Then work on his mind. Take control of every aspect of his existence. Keep him under surveillance at all times, and make him dependent on you for everything, even his personal hygiene. Feed him, clothe him, groom him and accompany him to the bathroom. The more private his needs, the more vulnerable and exposed he is.

Insist that he follow your orders to the letter. Mete out punishment when he doesn’t and rewards when he does. For maximum venerability, confiscate all of his property, including his clothing. Restrain him naked and use food and water as a reward. Starvation and thirst are powerful motivators.

Angela stood above him, staring down at her prisoner and marveling that she could have subdued such a large, powerful man—and now an angry one. Her arms ached from securing the ropes, but keeping him down was imperative if she wanted to stay alive and in control long
enough to carry out her plan. She not only knew how to restrain a hostage, she knew the desperate tricks they could pull.

He wasn’t naked, but he would be if all else failed.

Getting him to the hut from the truck had been an exercise in willpower, gut strength, and the mechanics of movement. She’d found an old wooden wheelbarrow in the bed, and she’d leveraged her weight against the leg supports to get him into the tray, then she’d alternately pushed and pulled the barrow to the hut. It had seemed the most efficient way to move him, but the effort had exhausted her. She was still feverishly damp and weak.

Stress
, she told herself.
Stress, hunger, and the heat.
The air was so thick with moisture it clung to her like a veil, and the back of her neck was constantly damp with perspiration. She couldn’t be getting sick, but if she were, she would have to fight her way through it.

Carpenter thrashed at her feet, straining to break his bonds. Thank God she’d tightened and reinforced the knots. And known how to tie them in the first place. Not grannies, they would loosen if tugged on. These had to be square knots.
Right over left and under, left over right . . .

“Take off this blindfold,” he snarled. “Get me out of these ropes and deal with me face-to-face.”

“The way you dealt with me face-to-face? You, the man who sneaks up behind women, forces them into armlocks, and muzzles them?”

“Not any woman,” he retorted, “just one with an obsession for murdering doctors in cold blood, starting with her own father.”

Angela froze. He did know about her. But not what he claimed, not everything. That was impossible.

Something inside her began to burn, an icy sensation just behind her ribs. It was hot enough to sear a hole through bone. And then the shaking began, so abruptly she had to lock her spine to keep the tremors under
control. If he hadn’t tipped his hand, she probably couldn’t have done it. He’d done her a favor, she realized, because any sympathy she might have had for his pain was gone. When the shaking was over, there would be nothing left but cold purpose and determination.

He had come down here to stop her, but he was the one who would be stopped. She would learn every detail of his mission, including whether or not he was associated with SmartTech, and she would settle for nothing less than that. The truth. She wanted the truth about everything, even the terrifying things she’d erased from her own mind.

He’d said he knew what she couldn’t remember. What else could that mean but that he was associated with the biotechnology community, probably involved in intelligence gathering or medical experimentation, like her foster father?

He breathed out one last violent word and lay still, but he was not resting. He was thinking, calculating.

“At least take off this blindfold,” he said. “Do that, and I’ll stop trying to get free.”

“Oh, now we’re bargaining? I don’t think so, Doctor.” She laughed softly, a breathless sound. “You haven’t got anything I want.”

“What do you want?”

“To know what
you
want and why you followed me down here. You’re not getting out of those ropes until you tell me everything.”

“Fine, just take off the blindfold and let me sit up. I can’t talk this way.”

That was not the way it worked, but he didn’t understand that yet. She gave the orders now. Perhaps it was time to impress that on his mind.

She took stock of her surroundings, looking for anything that would help make her point. A big stick, for example. There was plenty of wood around. The hut
seemed to be made entirely of tropical hardwood, with a thatched roof of palm leaves. It was a rather large two-room structure, mostly open to the air with rolled shades, and the front looked out on a sparkling white beach and turquoise sea.

Angela felt a cooling breeze and held up her hair, letting it rifle the tendrils clinging to her nape. She’d tied her blouse at the waist for ventilation and rolled up her linen shorts, but nothing really helped.

She would love to have taken off everything and run naked to the water. The heat was that oppressive. It was an alarmingly primitive area, but she’d had little choice other than to come here. She’d found a map in his pocket with directions to this place, which was described as an isolated refuge, equipped with a solar cell generator, hot and cold running water, and a two-week supply of food. At the time, she’d been in the middle of a tropical jungle with no knowledge of the area or its inhabitants. Her command of Spanish was limited, and she’d had an unconscious man in the truck.

Any kind of refuge would have been an improvement.

Now she gave in to an impulse and bent over to shake out her hair, aware of the rustling sound it made as she ran her hands through its brandied thickness. Anything to cool her scalp and bring down her temperature. The soles of her leather sandals scraped against the tile floor. They were loaners from Silver, and they were too big.

“What’s that noise?” he asked. “What are you doing?”

“Sharpening knives, Doctor, in case I decide to operate. And by the way, I ask the questions from now on.”

She tossed back her hair and came up, cooler now, more in control. It was hard to image that he’d brought her to a place like this for any other purpose than to interrogate and dispose of her, and that was part of the reason she’d brought him here. She had a few questions to ask, and she wanted all of the advantages this place
offered, including the psychological advantage of having turned the tables. The danger was that he’d told someone where he was going, that
they
knew his destination. Her first task was to get that information out of him, and she’d already decided how to go about it.

The falling sun had gradually flooded the hut with amber light, giving the rooms a rich, peachy glow as she crossed to the kitchen. Her shadow danced against a latticed wooden screen that separated the two rooms, one of the few attempts at decor. The others were equally earthy and charming. Scattered about were Mexican jaguar masks, sandy seashells, and leafy palms in clay pots, which probably needed no watering because of the humidity. A hammock had been hung outside on the thatch-roofed veranda, and the living room and kitchen had rattan furniture with faded orange birds of paradise on the cushions.

But Angela’s thoughts weren’t held by the ambience. She was looking for a certain eating utensil, and fortunately, the kitchen seemed to have everything. The hut was not well outfitted by accident, she was sure. It was too isolated for vacation purposes, which made it perfect for things clandestine. At any rate, she found what she needed in the first drawer she opened. The edge of the knife blade was blue steel and sharp, like his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing now?” he called out.

She returned to the living room, aware that he couldn’t see what she was carrying, but he would find out about it the hard way if he didn’t cooperate. She didn’t plan to use the knife on him, but . . . accidents happened.

“I said
I’m
asking the questions now. What about that statement didn’t you understand?”

He mangled a word, but Angela caught it and it rhymed with witch.

She emitted a resigned sigh. He was going to make this difficult.

He was lying on bamboo mats in the corner of the living room nearest the door. It was as far as she’d been able to drag him, given his size. She should have been intimidated by that. If she knew anything about dead weight, he tipped the scale at better than two hundred pounds, and he was at least seven inches taller than she was, which would put him around six one. No small adversary, but somehow she knew in this one area, she possessed superior skills. He was a wizard in the operating room, and perhaps he had some intelligence experience, but she sincerely doubted he had ever done any of the things it was beginning to look like she’d done.

“I don’t think you did understand,” she said in a tone that implied supreme calm and forbearance.

She yanked tight the front of his T-shirt. “Don’t move!” With two clean strokes, she sliced around the entire sleeve, leaving his arm bare and untouched, except for one tiny nick.

Why did it surprise her that she knew how to handle a knife?

He shot up as far as the ropes would let him. “What the fuck?”

Apparently, he’d felt the nick.

“I just cut off the sleeve of your shirt. Speak to me in that tone again, and you’ll lose another sleeve, and then I’ll divide the rest of your T-shirt into squares and start cutting cake. You could be totally naked in no time.”

“Naked? Is that one of your sick rituals?”

“Are you hard of hearing or just slow?” With a swift stroke, she opened his shoulder seam and the crew neck of his T-shirt flapped forward. “Want to go for the other sleeve?”

The sound that escaped his clenched teeth was straight out of the jungle. If Angela hadn’t been certain the ropes would hold him, she would have backed off, backed
way
off, and let him cool down. But that would signal
intimidation, and too many men had tried to control her in that way, by frightening her.
Too many, dammit.

The other sleeve was history, she vowed. And then everything else would go, too, if that was the way he wanted it. He wouldn’t even have Adam’s fig leaf left.

She couldn’t get at him the way he was lying, so she made use of the wall for leverage and pulled him to his knees, supporting him until he was steady enough to stay upright on his own. She’d not only tied his hands and feet behind him, she’d looped them together, severely limiting his mobility. The blindfold made him even tipsier, but that worked to her advantage, too. She wanted him vulnerable in all ways.

“The great Dr. Jordan Carpenter in naked bondage,” she whispered in his ear, then blew lightly and watched him grimace. “I wonder what the medical community would think of their bright and shiny hero now.”

“Ask me if I care,” he muttered.

“The only thing between you and naked bondage is those safari shorts, Doctor. And if I were you, I wouldn’t want
me
anywhere near your pants. I could miss.”

“They were wrong about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a crazier bitch than they claimed.”

“Wrong answer.” She sliced the other shoulder seam, and his T-shirt nearly fell off.

He recoiled, and she tasted the sweetness of winning. Of justice. It fired the breath in her throat, and everything went hot for a second. The big man had flinched, and that was all she wanted, some respect. But something inside her had quivered, too, and the reaction had nothing to do with the thrill of victory.

Angela was not quite prepared for what she’d exposed. She hadn’t expected to have a thought about his physical body beyond defending herself against it, but now it was difficult not to have several thoughts. He was half-naked,
seethingly angry, and really quite spectacular, especially clenched the way he was.

Her gaze swept over him, on some involuntary mission of its own, and settled on his abdomen. That surprised her, considering all of the other things that could have drawn her eye.
Movement
, she realized. Those muscles were in flux, fisted with tension, yet rising to accommodate his breathing. Quick breathing, shallow and pent up.
Movement.
And body hair, too. Pointedly swirled, it cast shadows down his torso that made her think of the sea, of storms.