She indicated with the chicken in the direction of an ancient armoire, with enough force to make the dead bird molt pinfeathers onto the cracked tile floor. “There are more pillows and blankets in there. I will bring food later. I am the Signora Concetta.”
With that information, she stumped out, leaving the door open.
Gusts of rain and the smell of sheep shit blew in, a welcome burst of freshness and moist moving air in the moldy dimness of the room.
They looked at each other for a long moment.
“Well,” Tamar said briskly. “I doubt that anyone will look for us here.” She set her purse and the Deadly Beauty briefcase down and pulled open a small door, peering into what proved to be a tiny bathroom with brown-streaked porcelain fixtures that had to be more than a century old. “At least there are towels in here,” she remarked. “Who needs toilet paper?”
Tamar’s attempt at lightness made things worse. Val sat down on the bed, releasing a puff of dust that danced in the light from the door. He stared at her. She stared back. The light from the tiny windows was tinted by the foliage outside to a dim, unearthly green.
Gusts of strong wind whined around the casale, banging the little wooden door open against the outside wall. The rain finally let go in a rushing deluge. Its sweet, heady perfume deepened with every minute.
Tamar stepped forward, crossing her arms. “Go ahead,” she said. “Say it. I see it in your face, anyhow.”
“What do you see?” he asked. “What do you expect me to say?”
“Whore,” she said.
Val stared down at his own bloodied fists and fingered the dangling handcuff still attached to his wrists, and listened to the rain for a long moment. “I did not think that. And I will not say it.”
“Don’t make it worse by lying.” Her tilted eyes glittered with unshed tears.
“You ask a great deal of me,” he said. “I find my woman naked in the arms of a mafiya drug lord, and you scold me for being unhappy?”
She laughed. “Your woman? Hah! I belong to myself, Janos. I had two options. Kill him or fuck him. My first choice was to kill him. I was a nanosecond away from doing that when he told me his plans.”
Val swallowed bile. He forced the words out through a constricted throat. “And?”
“I realized that by killing him, I would be killing Imre,” she said, her voice hushed. “Or at least, killing your best chance to save him.”
His irrational anger grew with every word she said. “Ah. So you were naked in his arms for my sake?”
She nodded. “Yes. Your sake,” she said. “And Imre’s.”
His fists clenched, his jaw. His heart thudded. “And you expect me to thank you for that?”
Her eyes glowed hotly. “Yes! I do! I expect you to fall to your knees and kiss my ass for that! Why else, Val? Why else on earth would I willingly do that to myself? I had nothing to gain. Nothing! I could have killed him myself without your help, gone to take care of Stengl on my own, and never bothered with you and your complicated, dangerous problems ever again. But I didn’t. God help me, I didn’t.”
“And his billions?” he asked. “Is that not worth fucking him?”
She jerked back, her eyes huge with startled hurt. “Would you fuck Georg Luksch for a billion dollars?” she asked. “Or five billion?”
He shook his head.
“Then what makes you think I would?”
He shook his head, denying everything they were saying, everything that was happening, but she went on, her voice tight.
“You have no idea what was in store for me. He would have passed me around to his men every day for his own entertainment. And to punish me for being female, of course.”
He put his face into his hands. “Please be quiet. Just stop.”
“Can you believe it? A selfish bitch like me, struck down by a self-sacrificing heroine complex. I actually thought that saving your friend from death by torture would be worth…that. I actually thought that you would understand. That it was a gift.”
“Tamar—”
“It’s a mistake I won’t make again.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her jewelry case. “As of this moment, our arrangement is dissolved. Save your friend on your own. You don’t deserve my help. Good-bye.”
He was on his feet with his arms around her before she reached the door.
“Don’t you dare.” She wrenched, spinning in his arms, and he suddenly found a gun shoved under his chin. Georg’s gun.
“Tamar. No. Do not do this.” He forced the dry sound past the pressure of the gun against his throat.
“Try to stop me, and I will kill you. Let go of me, Janos.”
He let his arms slide lower, embracing her. She was as stiff as a wooden statue. “No.”
The gun dug deeper. “I mean it.” Her voice shook.
“So shoot me,” he said. “Go on. End it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You used this trick on me before.”
“It worked before,” he said.
“I’m wise to you now,” she said. “It won’t work again.”
“Yes, it will,” he said quietly. “Because this time it is not a trick. I know you now, Tamar. You will not shoot me. Put the gun away.”
Seconds dragged, oppressive with waiting. Rain rushed, an enormous, diffused sound all around them. Far-off thunder cracked and rumbled.
Crystalline tears welled up in her eyes, glittering in the gathering darkness. “Damn you,” she whispered.
He pushed the barrel of the gun away from his chin, took the thing out of her unresisting hand, and put it back in her purse.
He placed the bag gently on the ground and reached for her.
Chapter
20
She struggled, of course. She could not help herself. It was a given, an automatic response. But the fight was a frantic search for some place to put that desperate energy raging inside her. She fought how hard she wanted him, how much she was beginning to need him. She fought that sad, yearning ache that scared her out of her wits.
Not just for his beauty, his intensity, his fabulous cock. She wanted the life-giving elixir of his kisses, she wanted to wander through the boundless wilderness of him, to get lost in him. She wanted to devour him, soak him up, drink him in. She wanted to be devoured.
Stubborn bastard. She was furious at him for being a stubborn dickhead about
