Paradise Burning (39 page)

“
Are you all right, Mouse? Mouse!”
Peter had his lips to her ear, trying to be heard above the raging
storm outside.

“
Yes,” Mandy gasped, turning her head
to breathe the words against his mouth.

The storm stood still as their lips met and
clung, their minds all too aware this kiss could be their last.

“
I’m so damn sorry, Mouse,” Peter
groaned, his mouth once again finding its way to her ear. “I should
have listened to Doug . . . shouldn’t have been so arrogant. Peter
the Great, that’s me. Know-It-All of the Century.”

The storm, which they had thought at
its peak, continued to intensify. Mandy sucked in her breath as
lightning cracked into the woods close to the house, leaving no
doubt some venerable oak or pine had taken a direct hit. There was
so much lightning the night was a single white sheet of light, one
strike blending into the next in a continuing series of deadly
electrical impulses. The thunder, Mandy thought, burrowing even
tighter against Peter’s chest, was like being caught between the
tympani and the cannons in a performance of the
1812 Overture
. Impossible to be heard over it.
But she had to try.

She ran her fingers through Peter’s hair,
pulled his ear down to her mouth. “I may have made a point with
Karim,” she told him. “I’m not sure, but I’m hopeful.”

Peter took her by the shoulders, moved her
back until he could look directly into her face. His brows went up
in almost comical question. Okay, so her hope seemed unlikely.

Blinding light, a deafening clap of thunder .
. . screams . . . the acrid smell of ozone. Karim was up and
running through the door, waving one of the guards with him, moving
down the hallway toward the rear of the house. Peter opened an arm,
Nadya slipped inside, the three of them clinging together in the
center of the bed. Mandy was startled to realize the words tumbling
from Nadya’s lips seemed to be a Russian version of The Lord’s
Prayer.

Karim returned, passing the open door,
continuing on toward the front of the house. The guard resumed his
place at their door. Nadya broke off her prayer. “Girls in living
room,” she shouted to Mandy. “Karim must see they all right.”

Mandy could picture the scene. Although she
suspected some of the screams she had heard had been her own and
Nadya’s, there had been enough coming from the front of the house
to top the roar of the storm. Who was with the girls? Mandy
wondered. The man called Misha, whom she had heard about but never
seen? Perhaps another guard? Or was Misha enough to intimidate the
women all by himself? From what Mandy had heard on Nadya’s tape, he
probably was.

When Karim walked back into the room, the
person he made contact with was Peter. Mandy knew she shouldn’t be
surprised. They were exchanging one of those man-to-man looks that
have nothing to do with the line that divides friend from foe. They
were the male of the species, protecting their women, surviving a
mutual threat.

“
Kitchen,” Karim shouted, pantomiming
the fall of a tree. “Half gone.”

“
The women?” Peter mouthed, pointing
toward the living room.

Karim made a face. His fingers trailed
down his cheeks, indicating tears. His arms churned the air in mock
hysteria.
Men!
Mandy grimaced.
Now they were allies, the two of them, laughing at female
foibles.

“
Good thing you’re leaving,” Peter
shouted.

Karim shrugged, held out his hand to Nadya.
The odd pair of lovers resumed their close embrace, Nadya sitting
on the desktop, Karim standing beside her.

The storm seemed to last forever, but a stern
application of logic told Mandy that only about ten more minutes
passed before she noticed a change in the storm’s rage. Gradually,
the sharp cracks of simultaneous lightning and thunder receded. The
continuous white fire diminished to individual flashes, then
intermittent flickers. Echoing booms were fewer, farther between,
becoming rumbles fading away . . . as was the lightning.

It was over. Peter’s arms tightened into a
triumphant hug. Mandy shook her head as if emerging from a
nightmare. She turned her face, which had been buried in Peter’s
shoulder, and looked out the window. Incredibly, the sky was
growing lighter, the sound of rain reduced to the steady drip of
water from the eaves. Increasing brightness hinted that the sun
would actually make an appearance before it sank into the gulf on
the western horizon.

An old expression popped into Mandy’s
head:
mind-boggling
. Florida
was all that, and more. Was she actually considering living in this
godforsaken country?

“
You are right, Mr. Pennington,” Karim
pronounced, as if Peter had just spoken. “It is fortunate we no
longer need the kitchen. The women have already packed food which
we will eat on the road.” The ex-major glanced at his watch.
“Forty-five minutes to sunset. One hour later, we will move out.
There was little rain, the roads should be fine.”

“
Fallen trees?” Peter suggested, trying
not to sound hopeful. He too had been attempting to establish
rapport with their enigmatic host. No sense in aggravating him
unnecessarily.

Any hint of camaraderie vanished as Karim
Shirazi’s dark brows snapped together in a scowl. At last, Peter
exulted, he’d managed to shake the bastard.

“
A sensible thought, Mr. Pennington,
though not a pleasant one,” Karim ground out. “I do not think we
have a . . .” He made a sawing motion.

“
Chain saw,” Peter and Mandy pronounced
together.

Karim repeated the words, obviously adding
them to his vocabulary. Then, in the tone of command Mandy had come
to dread for the inevitability it conveyed, he added: “There are
two roads out. It is unlikely both will be closed. One way or
another, we are leaving.”

One way or
another
. The dictate of a security chief coldly
determined on doing his job.
Close-mouthed
bastard
. Had he even considered her offer? Mandy
wondered.

There might still be hope. Mandy recalled the
moments during the storm when Karim had held Nadya in his arms and
allowed Peter do the same for herself. A remarkably human gesture.
Was it a sign that he had listened to her? Or merely a flicker of
humanity, giving false hope?

Unfortunately, the latter seemed most likely.
A tough nut, Karim Shirazi.

Peter had been allowed to stay. They were
sitting, shoulder to shoulder, on the side of the bed, presenting a
united front to the guard who had moved into the room when Karim
left. The guard, a sturdy young man with a round face, straight
brown hair, and clear blue eyes, could have been just off the farm
or a streetwise city boy from Moscow or St. Petersburg. His gaze
was sharp, his grip on the Mac-10 casual but confident. Unlike the
older, harder-looking man standing in the hall, this guard, called
Grisha, gave the impression he was not eager to shoot.

“
When we get out of this . . .,” Peter
murmured into Mandy’s hair.

“
I know. Me too.” No need to say more.
Imminent death tended to clarify priorities. Too bad they might
never have the chance to enjoy the benefits of mutual
forgiveness.

“
So how many kids do you want?” Peter
asked, his voice husky with emotion.

“
We’re getting kind of a late start,”
Mandy pointed out, joining his whimsey.

“
Maybe we should try for
triplets.”

Mandy choked. “Pennington, you’re a crazy
man.”

“
Maybe. They say all people in love are
crazy.”

Love. Mandy’s smile vanished. Her mouth
remained open in an “O” of surprise. “Did I actually hear the
word
love
?” she
inquired.

“
Good God, Mouse,” Peter groaned,
turning to take her face between his hands, “would I be asking you
to be the mother of my children if I didn’t love you?”

“
Karim says I’m a good woman,” Mandy
enunciated with care, ruthlessly repressing her surge of joy. “The
kind appreciated by men of good character. I guess I thought that’s
why you wanted me. I was suitable.”

“
Suitable!” Peter barked. “What the
hell is Shirazi doing making personal comments to my wife? The
bastard needs to keep his eyes to himself.”

Guard forgotten, Mandy was savoring the
moment. She had to struggle to keep a straight face. “He says my
beauty is of the soul. That purity shines from my eyes.”

Peter’s hands tightened around her cheeks,
amber eyes blazed. “Did that son-of-a-bitch touch you? Did he?”

“
I still haven’t heard you say
it.”

“
Say what?” Peter growled.

“
That you love me.”

“
Well, hell, of course I love
you.”

Mandy sighed. There was no rule that
guaranteed words of love be enhanced by the scent of roses and the
seductive notes of a singing violin. She would have to be content
with the sound of palm fronds swaying in the wind.

Peter kissed her while Grisha looked on with
unabashed interest.

“
Mandy?” Nadya’s voice, small and
tentative, reminded them she, too, was still in the room. She was
standing at the north window, looking out. “Mandy!”

“
Yes?” Mandy finally responded to the
urgency in Nadya’s tone.

“
Please to come look,” Nadya said. “The
sun is not right.”

It was easier to slide out of Peter’s
arms and look than figure out what Nadya was trying to say. The
Russian girl moved aside so Mandy could peer out the north
window.
The sun is not right
.
The sun wasn’t right. The sun did not set in the north. The fine
hairs on Mandy’s arms rose to attention. As she ran to the window
facing east, she heard Peter’s feet hit the floor.

The sun was also setting in the east.

“
Nadya,” Peter barked from above
Mandy’s head, “tell Karim the woods are on fire. This is bad, very
bad. Understand?
Fire!
”

The Russian girl’s eyes went wide.
“
Da.
” She turned and ran for
the door.

Grisha, the guard inside the room, pushed
past them, looking out the east window, then the north. “Shit!” he
pronounced in distinct Anglo-Saxon before calling to the other
guard in the hall who came in on the run. This one, Mandy thought,
had the look of a man who could do mass murder without blinking an
eye, but his lean face paled as he looked out the window. A sharp
order to Grisha and the two resumed their guard posts. Not even the
primal fear of fire was going to budge these two from their
duty.

Shoulder to shoulder at the north window,
Mandy and Peter saw Karim run out into the circular drive at the
front of the house. With him was a man who was older, shorter,
stockier in build. They scanned the woods to the west, north, and
east, then jogged past the window where Mandy and Peter were
standing, heading toward the back of the house. “That is Misha,”
Nadya said, standing on tiptoe to see over Mandy’s shoulder. “A bad
man. I not like him. He uses the girls for . . . for bad sex.” She
tapped her head. “He is sick, that one. He not use me. Karim not
allow.”

The two men disappeared from sight. “They’re
probably checking the woods near the river,” Peter said. “Assessing
the situation.”

“
Assessing the situation!” Mandy
echoed. “Are you kidding? It’s get out now or never. Anybody who
can’t see that without a hike around the house is
crazy.”

“
There are two roads out. They have to
choose.”

“
How are they going to know which one
doesn’t have trees down across the road?”

“
God, spare me from logical, analytical
women,” Peter groaned.

“
What’re the chances of convincing
Karim the river is the only way out?”

“
Not good,” boomed the Iranian’s strong
baritone from just behind them. “Come, we go now!”

When Peter and Mandy reached the
driveway, with Grisha dogging their footsteps, the young women who
had been huddled in the living room were getting into the white van
which was usually used to transport the brothel’s customers. Each
girl was carrying a bulging pillowcase, evidently containing her
few possessions. In front of the van was a black Buick sedan. Peter
looked west into the setting sun. And swore. Several dark plumes of
smoke were rising on the west side of the river. In Amber Run. Near
his house?
His goddamn beautiful brand new
house?
No time for that now. Houses could be replaced.
People couldn’t. But if there was no refuge here, no refuge on the
far side of the river . . .

In the distance Peter thought he heard
the first wail of a fire engine. There
was
refuge on the west side of the river. Even if
the river failed as a firebreak, there were paved roads, room to
run. Experienced firefighters, emergency medics. Police.
Friends.

Karim snapped a command, forcing Peter to
turn away from the billowing black smoke rising to the west. With a
wave of his Mac-10, Grisha motioned Peter into the back seat of the
black sedan next to Nadya. Mandy was already seated in the front
next to the driver. With an authoritative swing of his arm, Karim
gave the signal for the cavalcade to move forward, then slipped
into the backseat with Nadya and Peter.