The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (78 page)

It said much as she lost herself in him and became greedy,
meeting him with each thrust as she urged him almost to a point of savagery, and she held on, soaring with him to unbelievable heights in a sexual climax more pagan than any they’d previously shared.

Afterwards he simply rested his cheek against her temple as their breathing slowed, and the water cascaded over their bodies slick with sexual sweat.

He said something in Spanish beneath his breath, then trailed his mouth down to capture hers in a kiss so incredibly gentle, her eyes shimmered with emotive tears.

With care, he took the soap and smoothed it over her body, his eyes dark and impossibly slumberous as he caught the faint pink smudges marking her tender flesh.

When he was done, she took the soap from his hand and returned the favour, exulting in the hard musculature, olive skin darker than her own, and the inherent masculinity that was intensely male and his alone.

It took a while before they pulled on towelling robes and emerged into the bedroom.

Her cellphone beeped intermittently, alerting a text message, and a slight frown creased her forehead as she read the text.

‘Anything urgent?’ Marcello queried as he discarded the robe and slid naked between the bedcovers.

‘It’s John,’ she relayed slowly, meeting his gaze. ‘He wants to know when he can expect me back.’

His eyes darkened, and he went completely still. ‘You won’t be returning to Perth.’

Shannay opened her mouth, then closed it again. ‘Marcello, my job, my life, everything is there.’

‘It was never
there
from the moment I discovered Nicki’s existence.’

Oh, dear lord. ‘You don’t understand,’ she protested, feeling sick and slightly stricken as she took in his hardened features.

‘Make me understand,’ Marcello began in a dangerously silky tone. ‘How you can lose yourself in my arms night after night … and yet still want to leave.’

He had her there, and she felt suddenly bereft of words. Too ashamed to admit he held the power to render her wanton and solely his. To need him as a flower in the desert craved water in order to survive.

That without him, she simply existed.

‘You asked me to stay longer for Ramon’s sake, and I have.’

Say it, she begged silently. Say you care. Tell me I mean something to you.

‘Leaving isn’t an option.’ The reiteration held an adamant non-negotiation hardness that chilled her to the bone.

There was only one thing she could do, and she tightened the belt on her robe and moved to the door.

‘I’ll sleep in another room.’

It killed her to walk through the door and close it quietly behind her.

Stupid tears gathered and rolled slowly down each cheek as she traversed the gallery to the suite she’d occupied during the initial few days after her arrival.

For some reason she needed to check on Nicki, to see her sweet face in sleep, and try to quantify her wayward emotions.

The dim night-light revealed a child at peace, silently trusting, and so much a part of her just the thought brought an ache to her throat.

Nicki was happy here … and hadn’t that been the object of this excursion?

A visit, to help Nicki adjust to spending time with her father. Thinly disguised custody posing as holidays.

Preparation for what the future would involve.

Shannay had never in her wildest imagination expected the visit to be anything else.

Yet she hadn’t counted on being so acutely vulnerable to the father of her child. Or to remember so vividly what they’d shared.

She’d been a fool. Incredibly naive not to foresee maintaining a formal relationship couldn’t last long.

Had he knowingly plotted just this outcome? Planned to seduce her and force her to stay?

Even get her pregnant?

It was a long time before she fell into an uneasy sleep, and late next morning when she woke.

Nicki was happily ensconsed in the kitchen beneath Maria’s care, and relayed Marcello had left early for the city.

There was a need to do something constructive with the day, preferably away from the house.

Shopping held no appeal but, recalling how much Nicki had loved the children’s section of the Parque de Attracciones, Shannay thought it would be great to enjoy a return visit.

With Carlo in attendance, of course.

It was relatively easy to arrange, and they set off with a delighted little girl whose excitement became infectious as the day progressed.

The rides, the people, the other children and the carnival-like atmosphere helped diminish Shannay rehashing the fallout from John’s text message.

How could she remain in Madrid when there were unresolved issues?

Worse, how could she bear to stay in a marriage simply because of
convenience?
Even more disturbing … consider adding another child?

It wasn’t enough to
pretend.
To attempt to believe the marriage was alive and healthy simply because the sex was good.

Oh, tell it like it is, why don’t you? It’s fantastic … off the Richter scale.

She’d been there, suffered, and thrown in the towel.

Why put herself through it again?

Except you’re already in over your head.

Admit it.

Something … instinct, maternal or otherwise, alerted her attention.

Nicki. Where was
Nicki?

Fear, panic, both meshed into something incredibly frightening as she consciously searched for the red top and cropped jeans Nicki was wearing, the bright red bow in her hair … felt her heart leap when she thought she caught a glimpse of red, only to have her hopes dashed seconds later.

Carlo? Where in hell was Carlo?

How could they
both
be missing?

‘Please, have you seen a little girl …’ She began frantically questioning one stranger after another, some of the children … in a mixture of English and Spanish as she described Nicki and her clothing … to which she received visual concern, the shake of a head,
nothing.

Oh, dear God. She prayed, made deals with the deity, and in a moment of common sense extracted her cellphone and rang Marcello’s private number on speed dial.

He picked up on the second tone, listened to her garbled explanation and issued an icily calm directive.

‘Stay where you are. I’m on my way.’

He immediately excused himself from an important meeting, made a personal call to the chief of police, issued
orders to various staff as he had his car brought kerb-side in front of the building’s main entrance, and he attempted to make contact with Carlo.

By the time he arrived at the
parque,
he’d gathered an overview of the situation … and Carlo’s cellphone had been switched off.

So too had the personal tracking device he carried at all times when leaving the house.

Two factors which sent alarm bells screaming inside Marcello’s head.

Nicki’s existence had been kept as low-profile as possible. Except it didn’t take a mathematician to work out the value of a child with direct connections to the Martinez dynasty. Factor in Ramon’s recent demise, and the value accelerated a thousandfold.

The abductors had to be professionals. Carlo was the best, and if they’d slipped beneath his alert surveillance it had to be a highly planned operation.

Shannay saw Marcello the instant he came into view, and she looked at him in silent desperation as he joined her.

There was little evident in his expression as he gathered her close, and one glance at her pale features was sufficient for him to reassure,

‘Don’t blame yourself.’

Then he began firing questions over the top of her head.

His presence did little to ease the panic pumping through her body. She was too stunned to cry, too inwardly frozen to do more than operate on some form of automatic pilot as police joined the
parque’
s security personnel.

The majority of their rapid Spanish went beyond her comprehension, and she stood at Marcello’s side, endeavouring to dismiss numerous images too horrifying to contemplate.

How could Marcello deal with the situation with such apparent
calm?

Shannay searched his features, caught the clenched muscle at the edge of his jaw, heard the tightness in his voice … and exchanged calm for control.

There would be a phone call.

Wasn’t that how a kidnapping unfolded?

She was a total mess, mentally and emotionally, desperately wanting to rewind the clock, wishing she hadn’t taken her eye off Nicki for a second.

For that was all it had taken.

‘Carlo? Who are these men?’ Nicki’s small hand tightened within his own. ‘Where are they taking us?’

Carlo was wired, he’d already activated the panic button, but any minute soon they’d pat him down … and any existing contact would be lost.

The important thing was to protect his charge. To minimise the impact of the kidnapping and to remain alert for any eventuality.

‘Just a little ride,
pequena,
’ he assured gently. ‘It’s OK.’

His training served him well, and no one, especially the child whose trust in him at this moment was unconditional, guessed beneath his calm persona there was a concealed Glock aimed right at his kidney.

They reached a nondescript dark-coloured van, the rear doors opened and Carlo lifted Nicki and deposited her on the metal floor.

‘There aren’t any seats to sit on,’ Nicki whispered as he leaned in close.

He watched her eyes widen as he spread his arms and legs wide … hiding, he hoped, the fact he was being competently
searched, his sports watch taken in case it contained an alert device.

A guttural oath sounded from behind as the taped wire was discovered, and he clenched his teeth as it was wrenched free. Then a hard metal object slammed into his kidneys, his hands were cuffed and he was pushed into the van, managing by reflex action to roll into an upright position without making a sound. Difficult when suffering excruciating pain.

‘I don’t like those men.’

Neither did he.

The doors slammed shut, he heard the lock catch, followed seconds later by the faint throb of the engine.

‘We’re going on an adventure,’ Carlo offered gently. ‘Shall I tell you a story?’

There was a tiny electronic device in his shoe. Virtually a panic button, which when activated provided a direct link to the police. As long as the device remained undetected, it would allow the police to track their whereabouts.

It wouldn’t be too difficult to extract, but he couldn’t risk Nicki asking what he was doing.

On the off-chance a listening device was planted inside the van, he lifted his cuffed hands to his face and pressed a finger to his lips.

Nicki copied his action and nodded.

Good. She’d remembered the few basic alerts he’d offered in explanation of why he always accompanied members of her family, instilling gently he would always win and she should never be frightened.

He began to intone a nursery rhyme as he quietly worked, controlling the slow slide as the van took a corner, the pause as it halted at a traffic intersection.

Their abductors were taking no chances, he perceived, for their speed was regulated, normal, and they were heading in a northerly direction.

There was a sense of satisfaction when he freed the electronic device, then once it was activated he replaced it carefully out of sight.

By now, Shannay would have alerted Marcello, notified the police … and it was only a matter of time.

He gave Nicki an indicative victory sign, and moved from one story to another. Heaven help him, he even sang a few songs, silently encouraging Nicki to join in … which, bless her brave little heart, she did.

It would take time to set up a roadblock, and his main objective was providing sufficient distraction to prevent Nicki from becoming too frightened.

Together they discussed her favourite stories, and
Shrek
the movie, Fiona, Puss in Boots and Donkey.

Once, she lifted hands and wiped tears from her cheek. ‘When will I see my mummy?’

‘Soon,
pequena.
Soon,’ he promised, and prayed he was right. ‘Your daddy will make sure of it.’

Every minute seemed like an hour, each one the worst and the longest in Shannay’s life.

Nothing else came close.

Then two things happened almost simultaneously.

Marcello’s cellphone rang … and seconds later he smiled.

Hope soared as she waited anxiously for him to relay news, and when he did it was all she could do not to subside in a heap.

Nicki was safe.

Carlo had her.

Their abductors had been forced to a halt at a police roadblock on the northern outskirts.

Nicki was in Carlo’s care, and their abductors were under arrest.

Reaction, immense relief … the emotional fall-out from a living nightmare began to have an effect, and tears welled up and spilled to run silently down each cheek.

Marcello took one look and cradled her face between his hands, easing the warm moisture with each thumb.

‘Nicki is fine. They’re on their way home in a police car. We’ll meet them there.’

She wasn’t capable of uttering so much as a word, and he lowered his head to hers and pressed his lips to each eyelid in turn.

A gesture which only increased the flow of tears, and his mouth closed over her own in a brief, evocative kiss before he lifted his head.

‘Let’s go home, hmm?’

Shannay was grateful for the arm he curved across the back of her waist as he led her to his car. Seated, he spared her a brief glance, glimpsed her still pale features and dark eyes fixed unseeing beyond the windscreen and he swore softly beneath his breath.

‘Let it go,
querida,’
he advised gently, and she turned towards him with tear-drenched eyes.

‘How can I?’ Her mouth quivered with emotion. ‘What if Carlo—?’ She couldn’t say the words. Didn’t want to voice them.

‘From tomorrow, Carlo will have a partner, and they’ll both shadow your every move.’

If he meant to reassure, he failed miserably.

Two
bodyguards.