Part 21 (1/2)
”I never have be-”
The line went dead, cutting Tal off. He stared at the phone for a moment before setting it softly into its cradle. This was one of those a.s.signments where Marsh would brook no failure.
Tal smiled. He had no intention of failing.
Although in a day or so, Marsh would be wis.h.i.+ng he had.
Leah nestled in the crook of John's arm, doubly comforted by his warm strength and the gentle feel of his chest rising and falling against her back. The afterglow of their lovemaking had quickly faded in the chilly air of their cell, so they'd dressed and lain down on the blanket, ostensibly to share warmth but, for Leah at least, it was also a desperate desire to hang on to their intimacy for as long as they could. She had no idea when Del's men would come for her, and if she'd ever see John again.
Well, that's not quite true, is it? she reminded herself. You'll see him at least once more. When you have to Cure him.
They'd talked for a while after snuggling up together, generalities and I-love-yous mostly, both of them avoiding any mention of impending death. She'd sensed John wanted to bring up the subject of escape, but each time he'd hinted in that direction-”I wonder where they have the cameras hidden... How many men have you seen in this place?”-she changed the topic, either by kissing him or mumbling sweet nothings against his neck, until he finally got the hint and stopped trying. Shortly after that, she'd rolled over and pulled his arms across her like a blanket, telling him she wanted to get some rest.
Even if the threat of death or slavery hadn't been hanging over her head, Leah doubted she'd have been able to fall asleep. The frigid cement was an inanimate vampire, sucking the warmth from her body, even with the rough blanket folded double beneath them. And despite her long exposure to it, the stench in the air still hit her at odd moments, proving you could never really get used to such an awful smell. Not to mention that lying on the floor with an arm as your only pillow was not exactly comfortable.
An involuntary s.h.i.+ver ran through her, and John's arms tightened in response.
”You awake?” he whispered, his breath rustling her hair so that it tickled her neck, sending another s.h.i.+ver down her back.
”Yes.” She bit her lip, feeling a strong premonition of what was coming next. What was it about lying in a dark room that brought on serious conversations you hoped to avoid?
”Tomorrow, when it's time to cure me-”
”John, I don't want to think about-”
”Stop talking and listen. This is important.”
She was about to interrupt again when she remembered their earlier conversation about selfishness and her promise not to be that way anymore. As much as it was going to hurt her to hear his words-and she knew what he was going to say-she owed it to him to listen. It was the courteous thing to do.
No, it was the right thing to do.
After a brief pause, he continued, ”When it's time, don't cure me. Without me, they have no leverage against you. It's your only chance.”
Conflicting emotions raced through Leah at John's words. On the one hand, she felt like laughing at a police officer who could be so nave. On the other, she was shocked that he'd surprised her; she'd been sure he'd come up with some desperate escape plan, like for her to Cure him and then they'd attack the guards. Instead, all he had was a weak idea to sacrifice himself, leaving her alone to face the consequences. Talk about selfish...then it hit her that she'd planned on doing the same thing only a few hours ago.
I guess we're not so different.
She took a deep breath before responding, choosing her words carefully so as not to offend him.
”John, it wouldn't work. Even without you, they have plenty of leverage. They know where my parents live. Or they could just bring in strangers. Do you think I could stand there and let more people die because of me?”
She rolled over to face him in the dim light. His breathing sent sour odors her way, and she knew her breath had to be just as bad-two days of nothing but coffee and junk food, with no toothbrush-but she didn't care. The worst morning breath in the world would still smell better than the air in the building.
”No, I don't think that.” His lips turned up slightly. ”I guess it was a pretty stupid idea.”
”Yeah.” She smiled back. ”We've had our share of those these past few days, huh?”
”Couple of real idiots, that's us.”
”Well, you did have one good idea,” Leah said.
”What was that?”
”You asked me out. I was so scared to say yes, but that was the best thing that's happened to me in years.”
John's smile grew wider and took on a wicked glint. ”Not as good as your idea.”
”My idea?” Leah frowned. ”For what?”
”This.” He leaned forward and placed his lips against hers. At the same time, his hand slipped between them to cup one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Despite her exhaustion and fear, she felt her body respond instantly to his touch.
And after he'd brought her to another screaming climax, she actually managed to fall asleep.
”d.a.m.n,” Ken Pollack said to his watch partner, Eddie Spring, ”I wouldn't mind getting me some of that.”
”Take it easy.” Eddie kept his eyes on the monitor, where grainy versions of the two captives had just gotten dressed and lain down again. ”If Del even thinks you got ideas about touching her, he'll cut you from ear to ear, and he won't be letting the lady fix you.”
”Yeah, I know. Still...hey, are they doin' it again?” Ken leaned closer to the screen.
”Naw. Looks like she's havin' a nightmare.” Eddie laughed. ”I'd be havin' bad dreams too if my a.s.s was gettin' sold to some A-rabs.”
”You think that's who's gonna buy her?” Ken opened a can of soda and took a long drink.
Eddie, a swarthy man with a fat ridge of scar tissue down the side of his neck, nodded. ”That's my guess. G.o.dd.a.m.n terrorists got more money than the Colombians or the mob.”
”I'll take a piece of that action. Ten bucks says the Colombians. They're always trying to kill each other.”
”You're on.” Eddie wagged his chin in the direction of the monitor. ”This time tomorrow, that cell's gonna seem like paradise.”
”This time tomorrow, I'm gonna be whackin' off to a copy of that tape,” Ken said, and they both burst into laughter.
On the screen, Leah continued thras.h.i.+ng back and forth on the blanket.
Chapter Seven.
In Leah's dream, Death had her pinned face-first against a gla.s.s wall, his bony fingers gripping her neck and arm, his shoulder pressing against the back of her head, smas.h.i.+ng her nose and lips against the gla.s.s. On the other side of the window, dwarfish imps, their bodies bathed in the green aura of sickness, danced around John's naked body, poking him with poisoned sticks. Although no sound reached Leah's ears, she knew he was screaming in pain, could tell by his wide-open mouth and taut neck muscles.
”Stop it!” she shouted, but Death just laughed and squeezed harder. Sharp nails dug into her flesh and she felt blood running down her back.
”They're killing him! I can save him!” She tried to break loose but the skeleton in the black robes was too strong.
”You can't save him this time, Leah,” Death said, his ice-cold voice whistling through the bones of his chest and mouth like a winter wind. ”Sometimes evil is stronger than good.”
”I don't believe that,” she whispered, but doubt colored her words, causing Death to laugh harder until he sounded like a freight train racing towards her.
”Do you really want to save him?” Death asked, his teeth clacking together right next to her ear.