Hostage to Love (Entangled Suspense) (8 page)

He’d missed her, he admitted grimly to himself. So much more than he’d thought possible. Seeing her again after so long brought home to him just how much.

He’d refused to go after her when she’d walked out, because he’d been so certain she’d return home after she calmed down.

He wasn’t his father. He liked to control things around him, sure, but from a very young age, he’d fought to put parameters in place to keep from ever overstepping, from letting his emotions spill from control into the borderline obsession his father had suffered from.

Being in the Marines had honed that skill. He made decisions, and he stuck by them. He’d thought Belle had understood that before they married. But after she walked out, days had turned into weeks without so much as a word from her, and his anger had hardened into disappointment, then cold resolution. He would not play the games his mother had played with his father.

Nevertheless, after the intense passion they’d shared, the unique connection he thought they’d found, for her to just walk out had…hurt. He’d thought their bond, their chemistry, went deeper than that.

Being proven wrong didn’t stop him from craving her though, he thought bitterly. Even with her body covered in filth and grime, it had beckoned his at the basest level. Seeing her emerge from the cabin on the plane, clean and dressed in simple but elegant clothes, the hard kick to his groin had been a tough reminder of how much he’d missed her. All he’d wanted,
still wanted,
was to drag her close, relearn the exquisite lines of her in the most thorough and carnal way imaginable.

And yeah, after six months without sex, he would need a huge banquet to take the edge off the severe need clawing through him.

“A dry spell to end all bloody dry spells,” he muttered to himself, his smile self-mocking. It’d been a
long
time since he’d gone without sex for this long. Even his time in the Marines hadn’t been without its benefits.

He clamped down hard on the need that threatened to unman him. The satisfaction his body craved would just have to wait for a little longer, and so would the explanation of why the hell they were in this position in the first place. As much as he’d hated to admit it to himself, it was the not knowing why that had driven him nuts the most these past months. He could’ve stomached anything but her unexplained desertion. His mother had seen to it that he’d had enough of
that
to last him several lifetimes.

But his wife was in no shape to oblige him either with sex or an explanation, nor did she look like she wanted to.

Recalling the bruises he’d seen when he’d helped her change on the cargo plane, murderous rage made his fists clench hard.

Raking a shaky hand through his hair, he called through to Demetra to help Belle with her undressing, then went to the sitting room. He poured himself a stiff drink and downed it in one gulp. He savored a second cognac as he walked over to the doors that had been thrown open to let in the afternoon sun.

His phone buzzed, and he saw Alex’s number displayed. “Hey.” He reluctantly admitted he welcomed the distraction from thinking about what a mess his life was.

“You made it to Althea in one piece?” Alex asked.

“Depends on what you mean by one piece.”

“Did she threaten to tear you a new one when she realized you weren’t heading back to Jolly Ole England?” His cousin’s voice held deep amusement.

“One day, the tables will turn, and I’ll get to feed off the streaming comedy of your life.”

“That’ll only happen if I decide to obsess over one woman and one woman only. Something which I don’t intend to happen in the foreseeable future.”

“Never say never, my brother. Now did you call for a specific reason or just to rib me on my life’s choices?”

“I wanted to say I’m sending over some of my security guys to Althea. They should be there in the next couple of hours.” Alex’s tone turned serious. “You need anything else, you let me know, and I’ll be there.”

His chest tightened at the solid weight of his cousin’s promise, and he couldn’t speak for a moment. When he did, his voice came out gruff, “Thanks.”

“You heard anything about the scumbag’s whereabouts yet?”

Nick cleared his throat. “Not yet, but I intend to throw everything I have at it.”

“We cut down a good chunk of his army. That should slow him down a bit.”

“Hmm.” He felt a modicum of satisfaction for that. He’d be lying if he said he was sorry Mwana’s men had met a hellish end. As for the rebel leader, he’d instructed John Allen to find him, at all costs.

No one got away with threatening what belonged to him.

“Something else on your mind?”

“The intel we gathered indicates the bastard targeted Belle—it wasn’t an opportunistic grab.”

“You think he knew she was your wife?”

Alex knew him well; a little too well at times.

The Andreakos wealth meant he and his family were always targets for unscrupulous individuals. What sent alarming tingles down his spine was the piece of info Allen had revealed—the separate sleeping area, suspected to be Mwana’s—where they’d found several pictures of Belle.

“Yes, I think Belle was the sole target, with the other captives taken as collateral.” His fists tightened. “Those men were highly trained. They meant business, Alex. She could’ve been killed.” Anger and residual terror at what could’ve happened coiled in his gut.

“But she wasn’t. And we’ll find this guy and make him pay. Whatever it takes. For now, you have to reflect on the positives.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

Belle was safe and back where she belonged. He could only be thankful he’d gotten to her—to all of them—in time.

He ended the call and walked to the double French doors. The view from this room never ceased to work its magic on him. The sloping garden planted with plumbago and sweet-smelling jasmine led down stone steps to pristine white sands lapped by the sea. The blend of greens and blues made the outdoors almost an extension of the room.

From here, he could hear the waves washing onto the shore. The gentle undulation of the sea soothed his chaotic thoughts, as it always did, and shucking off his shoes, he walked barefoot down across the terrace and onto the grass. He breathed in the cleansing air, but his tension didn’t ease.

Belle was back in his life, but it seemed they were farther apart than ever.

…

Belle entered the kitchen a few minutes shy of seven, irresistibly drawn to the delicious aroma of
moussaka
. Rays from the setting sun slanted through the partly painted glass windows, throwing gorgeous colored patterns on the walls.

She’d hardly touched the light snack she’d been served on the plane, but now her stomach reminded her of its lack of nourishment. It growled in anticipation and remembrance of Demetra’s specialty. As she entered the large, homey kitchen, she squashed the small voice in her mind that hinted she was trying to avoid Nick for as long as possible by staying away from the living room. But she didn’t deny the fact that she’d spent more time than necessary in the shower, reveling in the feel of being washed clean.

Of course, being alone had also meant reliving the hellish events of the past few days. How had Charles Mwana reacted to the loss of his quarry? She’d seen the look in his eyes during their last conversation. The rabid fascination…the hunger…

No
. She refused to think about that…

Pulling in a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she summoned a smile when Demetra looked up.

“
Kalispera, Kyria
Andreakos.”

“Good evening,” she responded to the lyrical greeting.

“Sit, sit.” Demetra indicated a chair at the large, aged pine table in the middle of the vast space. Belle sat, grateful to get off of her torn and blistered feet, and accepted the glass of chilled homemade lemonade the woman set in front of her.

“
Efkharisto
,” she thanked her and sipped the drink gratefully.

“
Moussaka
, your favorite, yes?” Demetra prompted in her broken English.

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it. It smells lovely.” She rubbed her stomach for emphasis and earned herself a beaming smile.

When Demetra’s gaze shifted beyond Belle’s shoulder, she didn’t need to be told Nick had entered the room. The hairs on her neck had risen in full alert. She sucked in a tremulous breath as he drew near, her senses reacting to his masculine scent. Her pulse leapt as she felt his warmth against her back.

“Not as lovely as you smell.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head, his touch causing her senses to spin. “Although I expected you to sleep longer. Why didn’t you ring down for me to come and get you?”

She shrugged, then wished she hadn’t when it only further imprinted the heat of his hands on her naked skin. She’d found the clothes she’d worn during her honeymoon in the exact place she’d left them—why Nick had kept them she had no idea—and the mohair-lined slippers Demetra had supplied cradled her lacerated feet perfectly. “As you can see, there was no need. I’m quite capable of dressing myself and walking on my own two feet.”

“Nevertheless, you shouldn’t put too much stress on your injuries. Some of those cuts are quite deep,” he said imperiously.

“Sure, I’ll bear that in mind.”

If he heard the flippancy in her tone, he chose to ignore it.

“Did you sleep well?” He leaned close, his breath caressing her ear.

She tried to hide her shiver. “Yes, I did, thank you.” She cleared her throat, eager to dispel the lump lodged there, and moved away from him on the pretext of sipping of her drink. His hands slid off her shoulders, but he didn’t leave her side. Instead, he came around to stand in front of her. One long forefinger tilted her chin to inspect her face, as if he were verifying for himself that she had indeed slept well.

For a brief moment, she wished she’d at least put on some lip gloss, maybe a stroke of mascara. Then she pushed the thought away. What did it matter what she looked like? He’d never seen her as more than a possession to be owned and controlled—and forgotten when she’d dared to challenge him.

“No jet lag?”

“I think I’m too grateful to be in one piece to worry about jet lag.”

His eyes darkened before his lids swept down to veil his expression.

Belle took the opportunity to conduct a survey of her own. He’d also taken a shower at some point; his damp hair curled at his nape. He’d changed into dark blue chinos, which sat low on his hips and clung to powerful thighs. The top buttons of his white short-sleeved shirt were open, revealing the golden column of his throat and a whirl of dark hair just below.

Her gaze reluctantly came back to his as he glanced back up. That was when she saw the apprehension lurking in his eyes. It was faint, buried beneath the usual self-assuredness he wore like a second skin, but Belle still saw it.

“What’s wrong?”

“You mean besides the fear that if you continue to glare at me like that I’ll turn to stone?”

“Don’t treat me like a child, Nick. Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about.” When her lips pursed, he shrugged. “I’ve spent the last couple of hours on the phone to the office putting out a few fires I’d rather not be handling. I’m a little on edge. Then I walk in here to find you’ve come down without calling for me to come get you. The thought of you injuring yourself further doesn’t make me happy. I think we need to talk about that. As well as a few other things.”

He turned and addressed Demetra in Greek. Belle watched in dismay as the woman smiled, nodded enthusiastically, and waved them off.

“Dinner won’t be ready for another half hour, so we’re at loose ends until then,” Nick translated. “How about the living room?”

She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m perfectly fine here. I’m happy to keep Demetra company and give her a hand, so I’ll see you in half an hour.”

“I think Demetra would prefer not to feel she has to entertain you while she’s preparing our meal. Also, I need to attend to your feet before dinner. The antiseptic cream I applied on the plane would’ve washed off with your shower. You don’t want to risk infection.”

Faced with the neat counterattack, she had no response. About to stand, she gasped as Nick swept her into his arms. She curled one hand over his bicep to keep her balance and silently withstood Demetra’s approving gaze as he carried her out of the kitchen.

“Damn it, Nick, put me down,” she demanded as soon as they reached the hallway. “I’m not some rag doll you can sweep up and set down every time you feel the urge.”

His jaw clenched, and a nerve ticked in his temple. “You are in no condition to walk around on those feet. If I didn’t think you’d kick up an unholy stink, I’d get you a damn wheelchair.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“I would, but I kinda like this option better, so you’ll have to put up with me carrying you around.”

The thought that he would do so whenever he felt like it caused her breath to fracture. “That’s ridiculous, not to mention overbearing.”

He ignored her outburst as his accusing eyes raked her face. “You lied when you said you were fine to walk through the jungle. Why?”

She flushed, dropping her hand when she felt his muscles bunch under her fingers. “I didn’t want to hold everyone up.”

He bit out a sharp curse and hefted her closer. “I could’ve carried you and covered the same ground in faster time.”

“I didn’t want you to.”

“Because of your pride or because you no longer deem me worthy of carrying you?”

She raised her chin. “Both.”

He stopped in the doorway to the living room and stared down at her. “We will discuss the highly stimulating topic of your leaving when you’re better recovered,
pethi mou
. And rest assured, it’s a conversation I intend to thoroughly exhaust.”

“Why? You didn’t care when I walked away.”

His eyes narrowed. “Trust me, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

Shock floored her for a moment. “What do you mean, I couldn’t be more wrong? The evidence speaks for itself. You haven’t so much as called in six months.”