The Bedroom Barter (4 page)

'Tell me something,' he said, after a moment, 'do you suppose this room is bugged in any way?'

She gasped. 'What are you talking about?'

'It surely isn't that hard to comprehend.' He spoke with an edge. 'Does Mama Rita use hidden cameras—microphones? Check what's happening?'

Slowly, Chellie shook her head. 'I don't think so. The other girls would have mentioned it, if so.'

He nodded. 'Good.'

Tinglingly aware of his continuing scrutiny, Chellie tugged ineffectually at her skirt, trying to pull it down over her knees.

She said uncertainly. 'Why are you staring at me?'

'Because I've paid for the privilege,' he said. 'So I may as well take advantage of the time I have left.'

Her lips parted in sheer astonishment 'That's all you want?' she queried huskily.

'It will do,' he said. 'Unless, of course, you'd like to take something off for me?'

There was a silence, then she said in a small, stifled voice, 'I should have known that—all this was too good to be true. Was the brandy meant to give me Dutch courage?'

He said coolly, 'I was actually hoping that you'd remove that ghastly wig. Or are you going to pretend that it's your natural hair?'

She was startled into a faint giggle. 'No—no, of course it isn't. But Mama Rita insists I wear it.' She pulled the wig off and tossed it on to the floor, running awkward fingers through her dark hair.

'Good,' he approved softly. 'That's an amazing improvement.'

Her face warmed, but she said nothing.

She still didn't understand or trust this
volte face
. And even now her reprieve might only be temporary, she reminded herself. He was only at arm's length. Perhaps he was just lulling her into a false sense of security. Whatever, she could not afford to relax.

A fact apparently not lost on him. He said softly, 'You're like a wire stretched to snapping point.'

Chellie sent him a fulminating glance. 'Does that really surprise you?'

'No.' he said. 'What does puzzle me is how you come to be in this hellhole. I'm sure you'll tell me it's none of my business, but, as a life-choice, it seems a seriously bad move.'

'Choice?' she repeated with stunned disbelief. 'Are you mad?' Her voice rose. 'Do you honestly think that if it had been down to me I'd ever have set foot in a place like this?'

'If that's truly the case,' he drawled, 'why do you stay?'

Her hands gripped each other until they ached. 'Because I can't leave,' she said in a low voice. 'I have no money, no passport, and no other option.'

His brows lifted. 'Were you robbed?'

'Mama Rita took my passport.' Chellie bent her head. 'Someone—someone else had my money. As a result I was turned out of my hotel room, and they kept my luggage.'

She paused. 'I'd been suffering from a virus, anyway, so I wasn't exactly thinking straight'
Quite apart
, she thought,
from realising that Ramon had walked out on me. Left me broke and stranded
.

But she couldn't afford to think about that—about her sheer criminal stupidity. Or she might break down—lose it completely in front of this stranger.

Instead, she straightened her shoulders. 'I knew I needed to find the British consul pretty urgently,' she went on. 'So I stopped this police car to ask the way.' 'Not very wise,' he said.

'So I found out.' She shivered. 'At first the policeman threatened to jail me for vagrancy. Then he seemed to relent. He said the consul's office was closed for the day, but he'd take me somewhere safe in the meantime.'

She tried to smile. 1 can even remember feeling grateful to him. Only he brought me here, where I've been ever since.'

'Hardly your lucky day.' His voice was expressionless.

'No,' Chellie admitted tautly. 'But I know there are worse places than this, because Mama Rita has already threatened me with them if I don't do as she says. I could have ended up in one of them instead.'
And it could still happen
…

Her voice broke slightly. 'You know—I—I really be-lieved she was going to let me sing my way out of here. We had this deal—in writing.' She attempted a laugh. 'How naive can you get?'

His tone was dry. 'Mama Rita is a woman who believes in exploiting all the assets at her disposal.' He paused. 'The only question is—do you intend to stay here as one of those assets?

'You mean—why don't I run away?' Chellie shook her head. 'With no passport I wouldn't get very far. And she'd simply find me and bring me back—or hand me over to her friend Consuela,' she added, shuddering.

He said softly, 'In an ideal world, how far would you like to run?'

She lifted her chin. 'For preference—to the other side of the universe.'

He said, 'I can't promise that—but there's always St Hilaire, instead.'

Her brow creased. 'Where is that? I've never heard of it'

'Hardly surprising,' he returned. 'It's in the Windward Islands, and not terribly big. I'm taking a boat there for its owner.' He paused, giving her a level look. 'You could always go with me.'

Chellie stared at him. She said uncertainly 'Go—with you?' She shook her head. 'I—I don't think so.'

'Listen,' he said. 'And listen well. I may be the first man to pay for your company, but I certainly won't be the last. And the next guy along may not respect your delicate shrinkings. In fact, he could even find them a turn-on,' he added laconically. 'And expect a damned sight more pleafrom you than I've had. Are you prepared for that?'

Colour flooded into her face. 'You don't mince your words.'

'Actually,' he said, 'I'm letting you down lightly.'

She was quiet for a moment. 'Why should I trust you?'

'Because you can.' The blue eyes met hers in a single, arrogant clash, and Chellie found herself looking away hurriedly, aware of the sudden thud of her heart against her ribcage. Even if he wasn't here alone with her, she thought, he would still be one of the most disturbing men she had ever encountered.

She lifted, her chin. 'I've trusted other people recently. It's been a disaster every time.'

He shrugged. 'Your luck has to change some time,' he said. 'Why not now?'

She hesitated again. 'When you say—go with you…' She paused, her colour deepening. 'What exactly do you mean?'

His mouth curled. 'Listen, songbird, if I really wanted you, I'd have had you by now.' He paused, allowing her to assimilate that. 'The boat has more than one cabin, so you can have all the privacy you want. I'm offering you safe passage to St Hilaire and that's all. There's nothing more. So—take it or leave it.'

She should have been relieved at his reassurance. Instead she was aware of an odd feeling closely resembling pique.

She was angry with herself because of it, which in turn sparked a sudden sharpness in her voice. 'You don't look much like a philanthropist to me.'

'Well, sweetheart,' he said, 'your own appearance is open to misinterpretation—wouldn't you say?'

He seemed to have an answer for everything, she thought with growing resentment.

She said, 'It's just that—I can't pay you—as you must know.'

'Don't worry about it,' he directed lazily. 'I'm sure we can reach some mutually agreeable arrangement' And, as her lips parted indignantly, he added, 'Can you cook?'

'Yes,' she said swiftly, and on the whole, untruthfully.

'Problem solved, then. You provide three meals a day for Laurent and myself, and you'll have paid for your trip several times over.'

'Laurent?'

'The other crew member. Great bloke, but not gifted in the galley.' He paused. 'Well?'

No, she thought, that's not the word at all. 'Dangerous' comes to mind. But so does 'tempting' at the same time.

She said slowly, 'I—I don't understand. Why should you want to help me? We're total strangers to each other.'

'We share a nationality,' he said. 'We're both a long way from home. And one look tonight told me you were in deep trouble. I thought maybe you might need a helping hand.'

She stared at him. 'Your name isn't Galahad, by any chance?'

'No,' he said. 'Any more than yours is Micaela.'

Chellie bit her lip, once again at a loss. 'I'm still not sure about this…' she began.

He gave a quick, impatient sigh. 'Understand this, darling.' His tone bit 'I'm not about to force you on board
La Belle Rêve
. And I'm not going to beg you on my knees either. It all depends on how badly you want to get out of your current situation. But I'm sailing tonight, whether you're with me or not'

He paused. 'So—no more discussion. We're wasting valuable time. I'm the rock. This is the hard place. You have to make the decision, and make it now.'

'And when we get to St Hilaire?' she asked jerkily. 'What then?'

'There'll be other choices to consider,' he said. 'There always are.'

'You forget,' Chellie said. 'I still have no passport, which reduces my options to zero. Unless, of course, St Hilaire has openings for singers,' she added wryly.

He was silent for a moment 'You say Mama Rita took it from you. Do you know where she keeps it?'

'In her desk—locked in the top right-hand drawer. She showed it to me once.' Chellie bit her lip. 'To convince me she still had it, and therefore still had me. Playing cat and mouse.'

'And the key to her desk? Where's that?'

Chellie grimaced. 'On a long chain round her neck.'

He shuddered. 'Which is where it can definitely remain.' He paused, frowning. 'Where will Mama Rita be now?'

'Down in the club. She'll come up at the end of the night to count the takings, but that's usually the only time. She considers she's one of the features of the place. That people come just to see her.'

'Well,' he said softly, 'she could be right. After all, something brought me here this evening. So let's hope that her ego keeps her right there in front of her admiring public'

'Why? What are you going to do?' she asked.

'Break into that desk, of course.' His tone was almost casual.

Her jaw dropped. 'Are you crazy?'

'Well, we can hardly take the damned thing with us. People might notice.' He gave her a dispassionate look. 'I'm surprised you haven't tried to get into it yourself.'

His faint note of criticism needled her. 'Because I wouldn't know how,' she said tautly. 'Unlike you, it seems.'

'Merely one of the skills I've acquired along the way.' He shrugged, apparently unfazed. 'For which you should be grateful.' He gave her a questioning look. 'I hope there's a back way out of here?'

'Yes, but that's always locked too, and Manuel has the key.'

'Well, that shouldn't be a serious problem.' He got to his feet, and Chellie rose too.

She said breathlessly, 'You don't know him. He's always hanging round—and he has a knife.'

'I'm sure he has,' he returned with indifference. 'I thought when I saw him that serving drinks couldn't be the entire sum of his talents.'

She said in a low voice, 'It's not funny. He's really dangerous—worse than Mama Rita.'

He said softly, 'But I could be dangerous too, songbird.' He paused. 'And don't say that hasn't already crossed your mind.'

She stared at him, the silence between them crackling like electricity. He knew how to break open a desk, she thought, and he wasn't scared of knives. Just who was this man— and how soon would she be able to get away from him? And, most of all, how much was it going to cost her? Her throat closed.

She said huskily, 'Perhaps you just seem—the lesser of two evils.'

'Thank you,' he said, his mouth twisting. 'I think. Is Mama Rita's office on this floor, by any chance?'

She nodded. 'Just along the passage. You—you want me to show you?'

'It could save time,' he said. 'Also it might stop me intruding on anyone else's intimate moments. I presume this isn't the only private room?'

'No,' Chellie said. 'But this is reckoned to be the best one. It must have cost you plenty to hire it.'

'Well, don't worry about it,' he said. 'I expect to get my money's worth in due course.' He looked into her startled eyes and grinned. 'All that home cooking,' he explained softly.

He kicked the blonde wig out of sight under the sofa. 'You won't need that again.' He looked her over. 'Do you have other clothes? Because you could change into them while I'm breaking and entering.'

'I haven't very much.' It was humiliating to have to make the admission.

'Then grab a coat from somewhere,' he said. 'We need to make an unobtrusive exit, and you're far too spectacular like that'

As Chellie went to the door she was crossly aware that her face had warmed.

The passage outside was thankfully deserted, but there was a lot of noise drifting up from the floor below—music with a strident beat, and male voices laughing and cheering.

He said softly, 'Let the good times roll—at least until we're out of here.'

The door of Mama Rita's office was slightly ajar, and the desk lamp was lit although the room was empty. Apart from the desk there was little other furniture, and most of that, he saw, was junk, with the exception of a nice pair of ornately carved wooden candlesticks standing on a chest against the wall. The air was stale with some cheap incense, and he grimaced faintly.

He said, 'She doesn't seem to worry about being robbed.'

'She doesn't think anyone would dare. Besides, she has a safe for the money.' Chellie pointed to the desk. 'That's the drawer.'

'Then I suggest you leave me to it while you go and change. I'll see you back here in a couple of minutes. And bring the stuff you have on with you,' he added. 'If they believe you're still somewhere on the premises, it will give us extra minutes.'

'Yes, I suppose so.' Chellie hesitated. 'Be—be careful.' Her tone was stilted.

He said softly, 'Why, darling, I didn't know you cared.'

'I don't,' she said with a snap. 'You're my way out of here, that's all. So I don't want anything to go wrong.'

He grinned at her. 'You're all heart.'

She looked back at him icily. 'You said it yourself. The rock and the hard place. That's the choice, but I don't have to like it.'

He shrugged. 'I'm not that keen myself, but there's no time to debate the situation now. We'll talk once the boat has sailed'