Charades (15 page)

     Her nerves strained, suddenly breaking apart and flowing back onto themselves, her body convulsing and bucking. It was so grand, so glorious! How had something this beautiful and overwhelming happened to her? Vaguely, she felt Wulf’s hands slowly swirling her wet, quivering folds, caressing her, giving her room to breathe normally again.

     “Wulf,” she gasped. “I think you’re trying to kill me.”

     “No, darling,” Wulf chuckled at her naiveté and turned her to face him. “It’s you who’s killing me. I can’t seem to get enough of you.” The truth of his statement, accompanied by a ruthless feeling of possessiveness, staggered him. He wanted her as his, only his. Forever!

     “Every time I look at you or touch you,” he said earnestly, holding her chin in his hand, “I want you. I love you. I will
never
have enough of you.” He almost laughed at the despair on her face. By God, he would wear down her defenses if it was the last thing he did. He would not lose her!

     Wulf almost hadn’t used a condom. She was so naive she probably never even knew it. He smiled tenderly down at her flushed face and kissed her questioning eyes closed. His love had kept him from tying her to him forever. Even though he wanted her to come to him of her own free will, he wasn’t above seducing her with sex. Anton was right about that at least. Sex was a powerful bond.

     They lay there several more minutes stroking and caressing each other, their bodies slowly regaining equilibrium and allowing reality to intrude. He rose from the bed, pulling her after him. “Come on, we’re going to take a shower.”

     “But we can’t do that,” she protested, pulling her hand back and pushing her nightgown back down over her breasts. Her face looked pale as she stared at his nakedness. “It’s, it’s just not right.”

     Wulf raised one eyebrow and smiled. “Mercy, after what we just did, you’re afraid of taking a shower with me?” He shook his head and laughed.

     She looked away from him for a moment, her face turning red. When she looked back at him, she was frowning.

     “What?” he asked, his hands on his hips, enjoying the way she stared at his male appendage. He felt himself hardening again under her hot stare.

     “You don’t wear night clothes do you?”

     “Guilty,” Wulf said, holding up his hands. He grabbed the rest of her nightgown and tore it over her head. “And now you aren’t wearing any, either.”

     She reached to grab her nightgown from him, but he threw it on the floor behind the bed and pulled her body up to his. “I’ve seen all of you, in broad daylight, and you’re beautiful.”

     Mercy melted in his arms, like a pool of Jell-O in the sun. An angel sat on one of her shoulders; a devil on the other. That little devil had shown her the treasures of the world, and now she couldn’t resist them. How could an angel fight a devil with that kind of power? She laid her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around him as he laid his cheek against her hair.

     After several minutes, Wulf leaned back and touched her nose with his index finger. “Come on. We’re wasting the day,” he said. “I don’t dare make love with you again so soon, no matter how much I want to, but I can still enjoy your lush body.”

     Mercy blushed at his words but didn’t protest when he turned the water on and stepped in the shower, dragging her after him. Instead, she lifted her face to the invigorating water splashing from the showerhead above. Wulf’s large, callused hands lavished lather all over her body, making love to her again with just the sensuality of his touch, soothing her and arousing her at the same time.

     He’s right, she thought, drinking up the feel of his hands as they traveled over her soapy skin. Taking a shower together felt mild compared to what they’d just done. She’d never been touched so lovingly and tenderly. She could only gasp and whimper in delight. His hands, rough even when coated with lather, made her body sing with renewed anticipation and arousal.

     Two could play at this game. Mercy grabbed the soap from Wulf and began lathering his chest and back. When she soaped under his arm, however, he flinched.

     “You’re ticklish!” she cried. They splashed and fought for supremacy of the soap, laughing and tickling each other like two mischievous otters.

     “Truce?” she cried, laughing and choking as she tried to catch her breath.

     “Truce,” Wulf agreed, laughing along with her.

     They rinsed off quickly, but as she started to open the shower door, he pulled her back into his embrace, the water flowing over them and blocking out the world. The kiss rated tame in comparison to some he’d given her, but at that moment—maybe it had something to do with the sensuality of the water flowing over them—her knees weakened and her lower regions filled with a torrid heaviness and aching.

     Mercy gulped and drew a long breath, closing her eyes. She wanted him again. Right now, hard, fast and furious. She groaned inwardly.
It had to be lust, didn’t it?
She swallowed with difficulty, humbled by the knowledge that her body owned her more than her mind did. How could she possibly love someone who’d deceived her so enormously? Everything had happened so fast. Her guilt and embarrassment made her face burn.

     Wulf saw the contradictory thoughts flitting across Mercy’s face. “I want you,” he said. “Right now, as you can tell.” His look drew her eyes down to his manhood. It was large and pulsing, proudly proclaiming his desire.

     “Luckily, I have enough sense for the both of us,” he continued, his eyes intent as he brushed the wet hair back from her face. “I love you, Mercy. I hope you believe that, no matter what else you believe.” He laughed, surprising himself with his sentimental feelings. “I just hope you’ll learn to love me, the whole man, imperfect as I am.”

     “Wulf, I…” she began.

     “Not now,” he said, hugging her tightly. “Go get dressed.”

     When she left the bathroom, he turned the cold water on full blast. It didn’t help much.

* * *

     The rich aroma of bacon frying and hot coffee brewing guided Mercy to the kitchen. It was nice to have something as normal and innocuous as eating to take her mind off her mixed-up feelings. Wulf turned to her with a strained look on his face. “What?”

     “Stratton escaped last night. There was so much blood, he might even be dead. But that’s not the worst. They know we were there. We’re accused of helping him, maybe even killing him.”

     Mercy sat down. How could something like this be happening to her? She was mousy Mercy, a nobody, of no importance to anyone. Now it seemed that every time she turned around something incredible or outrageous was happening to her.

     She laughed. “This is a joke, right?”

     “They have a gun with both our fingerprints on it.”

     “The gun we left at the restaurant?”

     Wulf nodded. “The manager of the restaurant was shot and is now in critical condition. We’re accused of that, too.” He sighed. “The man who was shot at the Sachsenhausen parking lot yesterday was Muller, our protection from the Organization. I didn’t want to tell you before because I didn’t want to alarm you. We’re accused of his murder, too.”

     Mercy’s hand flew to her mouth. “You’re lying again,” she said. He had to be lying. This was too unreal to be true. “Why are you doing this?” Mercy didn’t know whether she was more angry or more afraid, but she knew her heart was breaking. Would she ever be able to trust him? Her voice started to rise, “You’ve lied to me, taken advantage of me, and…”

     “And made love to you, too, damn it! Don’t forget that.” Wulf slammed down a pan. “Look, Mercy, I got you into this, and I swear to God, I’ll get you out. And if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll keep you safe.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I just don’t know exactly how yet,” he mumbled, turning to the stove and scrambling the eggs, putting them in another pan next to the already sizzling bacon.

     “How did you find out about all this?” she finally asked. “Did someone bring a newspaper?”

     “I talked to a friend in Berlin while you were dressing. We’re suspected because our fingerprints are on the gun. Clever, huh? Whoever they are, they sure worked fast.”

     “More of your cloak and dagger friends?”

     “Damn it! They’re not my friends,” Wulf swung around. “I don’t know who the hell they are,” he added. He looked down at the pans on the stove with the bacon and eggs. “There’s orange juice in the refrigerator,” he said, feeling like a heel. She was right. This was all his fault. He had to do something about their circumstances. But what?

     They finished a silent breakfast, and Wulf rose. He had a few calls to make.

     “Look,” he said. “We’ll get out of this somehow, if I have to call in every favor I’m owed.”

     Her look, wary and distrustful, pained him more than he could stand. He felt as though he’d just kicked a puppy. “Don’t worry, do you hear me?” He kissed her quickly on the forehead and went into the living room.

     While Mercy cleared the dishes in sullen silence, Wulf picked up the telephone, wondering if the calls he’d made earlier had been traced. She left the kitchen without saying a word. He sighed and punched in Anton’s number. After a brief conversation he felt much better. He had freedom of movement now and a plan.

     After breakfast, they’d pack up and leave. There were only a few people Wulf trusted right now and the Germans, the Israelis, and the Organization were not among them. With so much money involved, there was no telling who was trying to kill them. Before he could leave the room the telephone rang.

     No one was supposed to have this number but his friend who’d arranged the cabin and Anton. “Hello?”

     “Get the hell out of there now!” Anton said in a rush.

     “Right!” Wulf hung up.

     “Mercy, we need to leave here. Now!” Silence filled the cabin. “Mercy?” He ran into her room. The bed was rumpled, her clothes and toiletries gone. She’d left him!

     He ran to the front door. No car! Wulf bolted from the cabin. He hadn’t quite reached the trees before the explosion knocked him in the dirt.

     His ears were ringing so loudly he didn’t hear the car until it almost ran over him. Mercy stumbled out of it, her face white as a ghost. He got up, grabbing her arm and dragging her back to the car. He slammed the BMW into gear and sped down the narrow lane, leaving gravel and dust spewing in their wake.

     “Why’d you come back?”

     “I don’t know.”

     “For what it’s worth, thanks.”

     Mercy looked back at the smoke billowing in the distance. Their glances met at the same time.

     “Yeah,” he said grimly, increasing his speed.

     She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the headrest.

         “Where are we going now?” Mercy wondered out loud, throwing Wulf a disgruntled look.

     “First to Mittenwald and then south to Lubbenau. We’re safer if we go deeper into former East Germany.”

     “Why?”

     “Because, they’re still in the communications Stone Age. That’s why!”

     “And from there?” His snappishness didn’t bother her anymore. Besides, almost being blown to kingdom come justified his bad mood. She had also learned that she could not only stand up to him but also demand to be heard.

     “We’ll get more information in Lubbenau.”

     “It sounds rather labyrinthine, don’t you think? I think we ought to turn ourselves in to the police. Why are we leaving? I mean, we didn’t kill anyone. Someone’s trying to kill us.”

     “Are you crazy? From what I know about German security, we won’t be any safer with them than we are right now.”

     “Is this the way you spies do it?” Mercy knew she was pushing Wulf, but her own temper was beginning to run short.

     “Yes.” His voice was terse and curt.

     “And just who arranged for all this super-secret stuff?”

     “Anton.” Wulf sighed. “My boss. I heard he used to be involved in espionage, but I didn’t believe it until now. He’s the one who called and told me to leave the cabin.”

     He was as frightened as she.

     In Mittenwald they changed their car for a more nondescript model.

     The new car raced down the road to Lubbenau every bit as fast as the old one. Wulf handled it all in stride, Mercy noticed. Somehow, he managed to miss every rut and pothole in the old road.

     What did she really know about him? Was all this a lie, too? Then she remembered the explosion and the look on Wulf’s face when she’d pulled up in the car. No, this wasn’t a lie. He was just as scared as she was.

     Mercy’s thoughts wandered.
Had
her mother left some clue?

     “What are you thinking about so hard?” Wulf asked, cutting into her reverie. He felt like a heel for snapping at her earlier, but if she remembered anything, he needed to know it.

     “Nothing really.”

     “If we’re going to find that money and turn it over to the authorities, you need to tell me everything you remember about your parents and your grandparents.”

     “My parents rarely mentioned either of them.”

     “What did your mother say about the old goat,” he prompted, “excuse me, your grandfather?”

     Mercy laughed. At least she still had her sense of humor.

     “Nothing favorable, that’s for sure. I’m not surprised now that she eloped with Papa.”

     “It didn’t hurt that Pedro was so handsome either, did it?”

     “How did you know he was handsome?”

     “Pedro Fuentes? Nobody could forget Pedro Fuentes.”

     “Well, that’s not why she married him,” Mercy said, lifting her chin. “She loved him.”

     “Okay, okay, so they had a grand love affair. Can you remember anything about Stratton?”

     “Mama told me her father was a distant figure. She only saw him when he’d bring her out to show off to his friends. I always had the feeling she didn’t like him very much.”

     “Why was that?”

     “She didn’t like to talk about him. I suppose my grandfather committed the ultimate sin by refusing to let her marry Papa.”