Blue Knight (24 page)

He was silent for a long time. Olivia tried to sit up, but he held her still.

“No, wait,” he said softly. His hand came up, the fingers together. The tips touched her lips. It was an oddly formal gesture. A very Vistarian one. She wondered if Daniel was aware of just how much he reverted to his native gestures and customs when he was speaking Spanish with her. She didn’t think he was aware of just how much his personality had been changing in the last few hours. It was as if she had been starting to see his real nature unearth itself—one that had been buried beneath roles and masks and fake personalities and nationalities and accents and customs. Repressed and kept out of sight. It wasn’t like he was actually changing personalities or morphing into a different person. It was like he was slipping on a different coat.

One that suited him far better than the last one, Olivia thought.

“I said some terrible things to you a few moments ago,” he told her, his thumb stroking along her jaw. That was another aspect of the Vistarian Daniel. He touched. He reached for her far more easily than before.

“You don’t have to do this,” she told him, knowing what he was about to say. “I wasn’t exactly gentle myself.”

He shook his head. “But you were right and I was wrong. I was wrong and I’m sorry. You should never change except for one thing. You should break down the ice wall. Let people in again. The world has far more assholes like me and your ex in it than the sort of upstanding Vistarians you should love, like the Duardo Peñas of the world, but you should try to find one. You deserve one.”

“As it happens, if we ever get out of this, I know exactly where to find one.” She kept her face immobile, fighting to hide the truth that must surely blaze from it if she gave in to any expression at all. Surely he could see that truth?

Daniel’s jaw shifted just a little. The smallest amount. Shock. “You do?”

She gave a small nod. “I haven’t done anything about it until now. But these events here, well….” She shrugged. “I’ve decided that if I make it out of here, I’m going to do my best to get him to stay in my life once and for all. I’m sick of waiting for him to figure it out for himself.”

“He’s an idiot,” Daniel declared. “Tell him I told him so and that he should thank god every day you choose to be in his life.”

She smiled. She couldn’t help it. “I will.”

* * * * *

There was no disorientation when she woke the next time, but there was no warm body beneath her either. Instead, she found a mound of pillows, heaped to hold more or less his shape. They smelled of him. Vaguely, she remembered being moved, earlier. A kiss on the temple. Soft sounds around her.

Late afternoon sun streamed in the windows.

The chair and wedge were still in under the door, but the ceiling tile was back in place. She slid her hand under the pillow that was nominally hers on the other side of the bed and felt cold metal.

Daniel had left her the gun.

She could almost hear his voice in her mind, the words in Spanish. She could guess the answer to the question if she had asked it. “
Of course you must keep the gun. I can always steal another one. We are surrounded by guns, are we not?
”

Olivia shivered and sat up. Suddenly, she was wide awake. She lifted the gun into her lap and looked at it. There was a stylized “HK” on the front end of the barrel and a more normal looking “USP” further back from it. The letters were stamped again close to the bottom of the handgrip. The initials meant nothing to her.

The safety lever was sitting so that a white mark lined up with the red dot on it. She held the gun up now, miming Daniel’s movements and assumed that from the way Daniel had moved the safety to “off” during the night that it was now “on”.

Just that few seconds holding the gun up made her realize how heavy it was. Daniel had made it look lightweight, holding it motionless in the air for those long moments Serrano had been manipulating the door last night. Her hand had begun to shake within seconds.

She took a minute to figure out how to eject the thing that held the bullets and when it popped out an inch or so, she jumped. She pulled it out and examined it.

The top bullet in the clip seemed extraordinarily large to her eyes. Big, bronze and lethal. She wondered if these were .45s. They looked about 45 millimeters across.

There was no way to tell how many bullets there was in the clip. There was also no way to tell if there was already a bullet loaded in the chamber of the gun, as some professionals liked to do to have a spare up their sleeves. She wasn’t going to look up the barrel.

If it came to using the gun, she knew it didn’t matter how many bullets there were in it. She was just going to fire the damn thing and try to hit lethal parts of other people’s bodies. Having an extra bullet or not wasn’t going to matter a damn.

She put the clip back in and looked up at the ceiling. Like Daniel, she was going to have to hide the gun during the day. She was on Serrano’s shit-list. If she was found with a weapon, he’d do more than just slap her around.

She pushed all the pillows and covers off the bed and balanced the desk chair in the middle of it. The mattress was a hard and unforgiving thing and now Olivia was grateful for the uncomfortable box. She carefully balanced herself on the chair and found she could reach the ceiling. She pushed up the same tile Daniel had lifted aside, slipped the gun up inside the ceiling and rested it on the cross brace of the tile supports. It wouldn’t do to have the gun push through the delicate ceiling tiles because it was too damn heavy.

She used both hands to maneuver the tile and let it drop back into place, then climbed back down onto the bed, put the chair back under the desk and headed for the bathroom.

Time for a shower, then dress, makeup and to head downstairs to the public rooms.

She halted and leaned against the bathroom door as it occurred to her that for a handful of magical, wonderful hours she had forgotten to feel like a hostage. She had simply been Olivia Davenport. Free, alive and—although Daniel didn’t know it—in love.

He had given her exactly what she had asked for, a highlight to make the worst day of her life the best, instead.

Smiling, she pushed herself off the door and closed it.

It was getting close to five-thirty and the waiters were banging china around in the dining room, when Olivia appeared at the lounge bar doorway, escorted by an armed guard.

Daniel didn’t need to look up to know it was her. Just the murmured whispers, the turned heads and the elbows in ribs were enough to tell him she had arrived.

He kept his head down, scanning the three-month-old
Times
.

“She looks weird,” Jenny said, getting up from the table next to him. “They must have really worked her over this time.” She hurried away.

That jerked his head up. Olivia would have come through the dining room to reach the bar so he scanned the back end first.

She stood alone, looking for a place to sit. The guard had already left her there. He was heading back to his post. Daniel could glimpse him through the arches, passing through the dining room.

For a moment, Daniel’s heart stopped. So did time. Sound muffled down.

Olivia was wearing jeans. He didn’t know she even possessed such things. On her, with her legs, the jeans seemed to go on forever and ever. But they weren’t just any old jeans.

At the beginning of the diplomatic junket, when the
insurrectos
had been on their very best behavior, there had been social occasions arranged including tours to the local markets and commercial districts and the precious silver mines, all designed to pretend that the
insurrectos
had established peace and were maintaining it. Olivia must have brought some of the local clothing while she was on those tours.

Oh my god
, Daniel breathed in his mind, looking at her wearing them now. Vistarian women had a way with jeans that Daniel personally preferred to the latest fashion that clung to a woman’s leg all the way down to the ankle. These clung everywhere, too, sort of. They were low cut, rising only as high as her hips, making a man wonder how a woman held them up, even as he admired the hips the jeans were clinging to. They were a distraction to a man, especially if he happened to be behind a woman. He was totally lost if she was walking away from him.

The jeans were designed to go over boots, so they were gently flared over the calves. Vistarian women did something to them that included some of the beautiful black lace that came from up in the mountains around Pascuallita, so that when she walked, the jeans flared out so the lace was displayed and gave a glimpse of slender ankle and calf beneath. Daniel didn’t care how much flesh might be on display elsewhere—give a man a hint of flesh that was supposed to be covered up and he was intrigued. Vistarian women’s jeans were the most distracting, disarming garment Daniel had ever seen for such simple workmanlike clothes.

On Olivia, they turned into a seductive enticement that could leave him stuttering along in her wake.

She wore proper Vistarian boots beneath them, making her even taller. Black boots, with the right heel. In those heels, she would be able to look him in the eye.

There was a black belt threaded through the belt loops of the jeans and one of the elaborate filigree silver belt buckles that the country had just started to produce before the revolution had shut down all the silver factories. Where Olivia had got it from was a mystery. Perhaps Serrano had forced a factory open at gunpoint just to impress the diplomats. The filigree lace matched the lace on her jeans and the lace of her camisole. For she wore a camisole as her top and nothing else, except for one of her light summer jackets.

Daniel swallowed.

No one else in the bar would know that what she was wearing was lingerie. No one else would know that she habitually went without a bra. It meant that she must have dressed this way for him. To tease him. To drive him mad.

It might work yet.

She was wearing sunglasses to help with the illusion that she was still recovering from the harshness of Serrano’s questioning session. Daniel wanted to hug her for remembering to play it as if she were weak and pathetic. The more Serrano thought he had pulled all the stuffing out of her the less of a threat he would see her.

She had also left her hair down. The fast clean and air drying last night must have ruined her usual attempts to get it all twisted up into one clip and the clip itself was possibly still in some dark corner of the room where she had been questioned. She had brushed her hair, but it was anything but straight. It tumbled and curled and bounced down to her waist, a sea-foam-colored glorious mane that made his hands itch to plunge themselves into it and hold her head still while he did all sorts of wicked things to her.

Daniel realized that not just his cock was ramrod stiff, but that he was holding his whole body stiff as he stared at her, while his thoughts tumbled through his mind like water over a cascade. Wild thoughts. Impossible thoughts.

His heart creaked with the strain of some of them.

She’s perfect,
came the whisper.

Olivia pulled the sunglasses down to the end of her nose as Jenny threaded her way through the tables, heading for her. The blue eyes fixed on him, direct and uncompromising. Her expression didn’t change because she knew everyone was watching her but he knew she was acknowledging him.

It was like someone had taken a cleaver to the chest. If he hadn’t been sitting down, he would have fallen.

He knew he should look away, but couldn’t. With Olivia dressed in those clothes—
his clothes, Vistarian clothes
, his mind amended—it was like a door had been trundled open in his mind, revealing a whole room of understanding.
She’s a woman I want in my life
. He took a breath that burned on the way down. Maybe for a long while. Maybe forever.

Water and ice cascaded down the back of his shirt, ripping his attention away from Olivia more thoroughly than a slap across the face. He leapt to his feet and spun to confront the barman, who placed an empty glass back on his tray.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” the barman said stiffly, in slow English. “Please forgive my clumsiness. I leaned too far forward to pick up your glass.” But he simply stood there, looking neither contrite, nor afraid.

Daniel drew in a breath. It didn’t burn this time. But his hand was still shaking. He tried another breath. Calm was returning.

Behind him, he heard Olivia’s contralto, murmuring. Jenny’s lighter voice. Male bass. Olivia was sitting with another group.

Daniel settled himself on the chair next to the one he had been sitting on, for that one was wet, now. “No, it’s all right. I wasn’t paying attention, either.”

The barman picked up Daniel’s empty soda glass. “You were paying too much attention, sir,” he said quietly.

“Thank you,” Daniel said just as softly.

“I will bring you another soda, sir.”

“Thank you.” Daniel cleared his throat. “My thoughts are bad companions tonight. I think I’ll seek out better company.”

“That would be a good idea, sir,” the barman replied, with a small incline of his head.

Daniel looked around the bar for someone else to sit with, but most of the tables already had groups of two or three or more. He frowned. When had everyone suddenly got so chatty?

Since Olivia had taught them to thumb their noses at the guards.

He could hear at least half a dozen different languages. After Olivia’s questioning, they were even more determined to stick it to the guards, Ibarra and Serrano in any way they could. This was one way they could get back at them with impunity and they were doing it at full charge. Every back was put firmly to the guards. Every head was down.

Jenny’s face turned to Daniel. She waved to him.

Daniel hesitated. He could not afford to be drawn into Olivia’s group in public.

Then the Austrian, Oberstz, sitting at the head of that table, lifted his hand and gave one peremptory beckon with his fingers, before dipping his head back into the closed circle to keep talking.