The Blackmailed Bride (3 page)

This must be one of the waiter's sinister friends, she reasoned, recalling Susie's comments on Luis's charming broken English—unless that too had been part of his scam.

‘Of course I'm English!' she exclaimed at her most haughty.

‘A woman…?'
The voice from across the room exclaimed.

‘I had noticed,' her captor replied drily before switching to rapid Spanish.

Probably issuing instructions about where to dispose of my body, Kate thought, as she struggled in vain to catch the gist of what was being said. Her mind was working furiously. How long will it be before anyone misses me…? Not until morning at the earliest, she realised with dismay.

She'd excused herself early from dinner with her parents, pleading a headache, and if Susie had carried on drinking wine at the rate she had been when Kate had left she would now either be dead to the world or dancing the night away in the nearest night-club.

‘I'm going to put you down now. Do not try to escape.'

Kate nodded her head compliantly whilst privately vowing to do just the opposite should the opportunity arise.

Released from the iron grip and with her feet back on the ground, Kate's knees displayed the consistency of cotton wool. Fortunately her spirit was more resilient. Chin up—not too much: she didn't want to come across as bolshy, more an innocent victim of circumstance—she turned to face her aggressors.

‘Will you take that thing out of my eyes?' she appealed, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the torch.

After a moment someone responded to her request.

She could now see, though the loss of her specs meant the one standing some way away was nothing but a blurred outline suggestive of threatening bulk. The one who had held her was another matter! He was close enough for her to see quite well. Like herself, he was clad from head to toe in black. There the similarity ended!

The hard, lean, muscle-packed torso Kate already knew about from her struggles; the rest of the package reduced her to a stunned silence. She blinked several times as she assimilated the attributes of her assailant, who ironically turned out to be the most physically perfect specimen of
manhood she'd ever come across. These numerous attributes included ridiculously broad shoulders, snaky slim hips and long legs, and then there was his face…!

And what a face!
God I'm thinking in superlatives, some objective corner of her mind observed as she drank in the details of his long, arrestingly attractive, angular features. His was a starkly uncompromising face—a high intelligent forehead, an almost hawkish nose reminiscent of the strong Moorish inheritance she'd seen reflected in many parts of Spain, his beautifully sculpted slashing cheekbones stretched his even golden-toned skin taut and his mouth was an intriguing combination of control and passion. The jutting angles and sculpted planes married sweetly, giving their owner a countenance that could never be overlooked in a crowd, but combined with his incongruously blue eyes, fringed with extravagant lush lashes and slanted ebony brows, the exceptional became the extraordinary.

The deep-set, startling blue eyes narrowed as he subjected her to a scrutiny just as thorough as her own of him—he didn't appear overly impressed by what he saw. ‘Now,
señorita,
where is Gonzalez?' he demanded impatiently.

M
UTELY
Kate shook her head.

He subjected her to another glare of biting derision before abruptly firing a quick sentence in Spanish at his companion who immediately extinguished the light.

For a moment there was total inky darkness. Kate, her brain working frantically, began to speculate on her chances of getting to the door before she was caught. It had to be evens or better? What did she have to lose? Quite a lot, actually, came the instant reply, and besides you haven't got the photos yet.

‘Don't even think about it.'

She jumped as the wry voice emerged from the inky blackness, slicing through her frantic thoughts of escape.

The owner's powerful profile that matched the dark dangerous drawl was revealed as the second man pulled back the curtain, allowing the moonlight to filter into the room.

Kate blinked, dazzled, as the flashlight once more swept across her face; it moved past her and she saw the second man shake his head.

‘Are you expecting him tonight?' The tall one, who had boss written all over him, recommenced his interrogation.

‘I've never met Gonzalez,' she rebutted honestly.

Kate suspected she might be in the middle of a falling out between villains; she didn't want to accidentally reveal anything that might make her position even more precarious.

Under the circumstances, playing dumb might not be so hard, she decided bitterly, because only someone spectacularly stupid would have blundered in here like this! They
must, she reasoned—
now
I can reason!—have been lying in wait.

Her guileless response evoked no softening in the magnificently moody face of her sinister interrogator.

‘You just wandered in here by accident…?' His eyes skimmed the outfit she'd chosen for her first foray into breaking and entering. ‘Dressed like that?' A derisive snort emerged from between those fascinating lips—
cruel
lips, she thought, unable to control the fearful little shudder that chased along her spine.

‘You're one to talk,' she retorted, peering myopically from one man to the other; both their muscular bodies were sheathed in close-fitting black outfits. We must look like a convention of cat burglars; her full lips twitched at the mental image of a social gathering of black-clad thieves.

‘You find something funny about this?' he grated incredulously.

The second man had faded into the shadows, apparently content to let his partner in crime do all the talking—perhaps he was the muscle. Not that this guy looked like he needed any help in that area, she mused, as her eyes slid over his impressive torso—not an ounce of spare flesh anywhere that she could see. In fact, in that close-fitting top, if she squinted she could just about make out the slabs of individual muscle across…
Stop!
The warning voice inside her head shrieked.

Kate took a deep breath and pushed her fear and lustful speculation aside as she tried to view the situation objectively—or at least without gibbering fearfully or drooling lustfully. If she was going to get out of this,
he
was the one she had to talk round, she decided, weighing up her opposition objectively. What she saw was not wildly encouraging. She'd seen rock faces with more give than that chiselled jawline.

‘Oh, yes, I'm just
wild
about being jumped on in the dark by some stupid big thug,' she was frustrated into com
menting bitterly. She prodded her aching ribs tentatively. ‘I'll probably be black and blue tomorrow, which isn't a good look in a bikini…' she grumbled, even though she favoured one-piece bathing suits. Talking, even if she was talking rubbish, gave her time to think… At least, that was the theory…

‘If I'm such a vicious thug of limited intelligence, shouldn't you be treating me with a little more respect…?'

The man had a point and, as for the intelligence part, if those alert eyes were any indication at all he had a brain like a steel trap.

‘Is that a threat?'

‘If I threaten you, you'll know about it.'

‘I see not a threat, just a boast.' With dismay, she saw a flicker of interest enter those laser-like eyes—she didn't want his interest. Her release from this depended on him considering her harmless and an air of stupidity wouldn't do her case any harm either. Despite this conviction, she couldn't stop herself adding, ‘I'm normally prepared to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, but in this instance I don't think there's any
if
about it. You are a vicious thug and yes, I probably should shut up, but when I'm nervous I babble…always have done…'

‘I don't think you're nervous,' he cut in smoothly. ‘I think that under that wide-eyed candour you're as hard as nails. Did you arrange to meet Gonzalez here? Or did he perhaps ask you to pick something up for him? Does he know we're on to him? Well?'

‘It won't do you any good to bully me.' She saw a flicker of amazement chase across his strong-boned features and wondered if she was being daring or just plain stupid to antagonise him. The truth was, she couldn't help herself; something about this man made her want to score points…

‘I am not a bully!' he refuted in an irritated steely drawl.

She smiled in polite disbelief and heard what might have
been his even white teeth grinding. ‘And it won't do you any good,' she elaborated. ‘Because I've not the faintest idea what you're talking about.' She shook her head so emphatically that the hood of her sweat top slipped off her head.

One dark brow rose as her silver-blonde tresses tumbled free from the loose knot she'd hastily confined them in on her head. Her stomach lurched as, with studied insolence, those electric-blue eyes moved over her body pausing overly long in significant areas.

Kate's first instinct was to cover herself with her hands. She almost immediately saw how ludicrous and demeaning her response to the earthy sexual appraisal was, and let her hands fall away; in doing so she saw the strands of dark hair caught in her fist.

Unobtrusively she wriggled her fingers to dislodge them; it didn't seem wise to remind someone with such violent inclinations of the no doubt painful moment when her fingers had become blindly entangled in his hair—lush, silky hair, she recalled. Her fingertips tingled uncomfortably as her brain replayed the sensation. With a head of hair like that, she thought practically, he wasn't going to miss the little bit she had ripped out.

‘Or maybe you knew he wasn't here… Maybe this is a bit of private enterprise…? You were taking advantage of his absence to help yourself?' He fired the fresh volley of questions at her like bullets without removing his unnerving gaze from her face for even a second. ‘What was she about to take out of the drawer, Serge?'

It was spooky. This man it seemed didn't feel the need to blink—but then he probably had iced water running through his veins, not blood, she thought, rubbing her arms where a rash of goosebumps had broken out.

‘It's true I didn't come here by accident exactly,' Kate admitted with discomfort as the silent second man, moving
with surprising speed for one so large, headed towards the chest of drawers.

Apprehension made Kate's pulse rate soar, an acceptable thing to happen to the most cool-headed of individuals, given the circumstances; the problem was, Kate knew it was only part of the story—there was in fact a much more significant factor. The main reason for the state of near-collapse of her nervous system was—
that man!
She glared angrily up at the stranger's dark saturnine face and her insides tightened another painful notch.

The man projected raw sexuality like a force field; she'd never come across anything like it! However, now was no time to analyse her curiously strong reaction to her cold-eyed interrogator; she needed to be clear headed and focused.

Being clear-headed wasn't as easy as it sounded when you couldn't rid yourself of a nasty, nagging suspicion. What if Susie wasn't the only Anderson who was attracted by danger…? Especially when it came so spectacularly packaged. Oh, God, I'm so shallow! In the future she definitely wouldn't be making so free with her superior sniffs and pitying looks, Kate decided, swallowing a large dose of humility.

‘I came here to retrieve something, but it doesn't belong to this Mr Gonzalez. It's…mine.' She kept her voice cool enough but she couldn't stop her eyes darting nervously in the direction of the bulky figure who was sifting through the contents of the drawer, which were now scattered on the ground.

A combination of nerves and the heat in the room made Kate's thin sweatshirt cling damply to her back; sweat pooled uncomfortably in the hollow between her breasts. Conscious of the constant presence of those piercing blue eyes drilling into her skull, she licked her lips nervously.

She'd studied enough guilty people to know she was displaying all the classic signs of guilt herself.

‘She was holding this, I think, Javier.'

Kate couldn't stop herself from lunging wildly forwards for the parcel of photographs as they passed between the two men. ‘They're mine!' she yelled.

For several stubborn seconds she resisted the compulsion of fingers like iron which closed mercilessly around her wrist before her stiffly clenched fingers unfurled. Tears of pain and frustration standing out in her eyes, she glared resentfully up at her persecutor.

‘You've no right…' Her voice faded away as the one she now knew was called Javier slid one long finger under the sealed opening of the package. Paralysed by horror, she watched as he withdrew one glossy print and held it up.

Kate's face flamed as his clinical glance moved from the photo in his hand to her and back again before he slid it back in. He pulled out a strip of negatives and held it up to the light. His nostrils flared and his lips quivered faintly in an attitude of fastidious distaste as he briefly viewed the images revealed.

The other man shot him a question in Spanish which he replied to in the same language—the reply made the other man laugh in surprise. Kate's hands balled into fists as she gritted her teeth; every natural feeling in her rebelled at the idea of these two sniggering at her Susie's expense.

‘Do you do this sort of thing for a living, or is it just a hobby?'

He thinks they're pictures of me!
Kate's jaw dropped. In other circumstances she might have felt flattered to have her body confused with that of her lovely younger sister, but on this occasion it just made her flip. Where moments before she had felt embarrassed and defensively protective of Susie, now she experienced a flash of blazingly hot rage.

If her adversary hadn't possessed startlingly swift reactions, her closed-fisted blow would have made contact with his lean cheek. Kate, who had never felt the need to resort to anything as crude as brute force in her life experienced
a moment of confusion and shock at her actions before the overpowering need to escape overwhelmed her.

‘Let me go!' she shrieked, landing a kick on his shins before she subsided her eyes flashing, her breath coming in short gasps. Her nostrils quivered; underneath the light expensive male fragrance he wore she could smell the clean-washed, spicy, masculine scent that she'd noticed before she'd even laid eyes on him—it had bothered her then, and it bothered her more now.

‘Now you show your true colours,' came the disdainful observation. ‘Cool down, little cat. I have no interest in your sleazy snaps; you can have them…'

Kate felt so pathetically relieved by this contemptuous information that she could have wept. Trying to retain a semblance of dignity, still panting from her exertions, she looked pointedly at his dark fingers still encircling her wrist and did her best to ignore the languid contempt in his tone. She couldn't afford to lose her temper; he had the photos and for Susie's sake she had to get them, even if this involved a bit of humiliation.

With an unpleasant, sneery sort of smile that made Kate's fingers itch to remove it from his smug face, he released her hand and mockingly inclined his glossy head. ‘…When I have the information I require,' he completed the white crocodile smile fading completely.

Kate's shoulders slumped as her eyes stayed trained on the photos held tantalisingly out of reach. She was fast coming to the conclusion he was playing cat and mouse games with her and, the awful part was, there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

‘I don't know anything.' She sighed wearily as she rubbed her tender wrist; the imprint of those strong brown fingers seemed to be branded into her flesh.

‘Cut the innocent act. You obviously know him, unless you send pornographic pictures of yourself to total strangers…?' he sneered.

Pink spots of outrage appeared on her smooth cheeks. ‘They are not pornographic, they're…they're
tasteful,
' she finished, unable to repress a weak grimace at the memory of the photos.

‘Sure they're art,' he drawled insultingly. ‘What's the connection? Is he your lover, or your supplier?'

‘Supplier?'
she exclaimed. Her eyes widened as her frown of incomprehension lifted.
‘Drugs!'
Oh, God, what have I walked into? Had Luis Gonzalez tried to muscle in on the big boys? Were these men here to teach him a lesson, or worse…? ‘This is a m-misunderstanding,' she stuttered. ‘I know nothing about any drugs.'

‘Of course you don't.'

Her eyes filled with tears of sheer frustration. She blinked hard to stop them spilling over. If she could weep like Susie—it was one of life's mysteries how Susie cried so picturesquely—tears might get her somewhere, but she couldn't see this man being touched by her own blotchy face and runny nose.

‘Why won't you believe me? Do I look like a drug addict or something?'

‘And what do they look like?' If he'd been so damned good at spotting the signs, Javier reflected bitterly, his sister would have been spared those agonising months of rehabilitation.