on the interior and old brick on the exterior side. Gleaming hardwood covered the floor and big wooden beams ran the expanse of the ceiling. An overstuffed leather sofa and twin chairs created a cozy, yet masculine living area in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Pleated shades allowed for privacy or sunlight. On the opposite side of the room an oil painting of a clipper ship tossing about in a storm hung on the wall behind the black lacquer table which was surrounded by six brass-and-steel chairs that mimicked Victorian bentwood chairs.
“Your apartment is…well, it’s wonderful.” Catherine wished she had been able to keep the surprised tone out of her voice. “You didn’t do this yourself. I mean, surely you hired someone to—”
Murdock slammed the door. Catherine jumped. Dammit, why was she so nervous? she wondered. Every unexpected sound made her overreact.
“Why do you assume I hired a decorator? Don’t you think a guy like me could put together something like this?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you—”
“Sure you did.” Murdock walked past her. “No need to be on your best behavior around me or try to be mannerly. We don’t know each other, but you’ve drawn some conclusions about me, just as I have about you. You figured a former mercenary who’s now a professional bodyguard has more brawn than brains and would probably live in a cluttered dump, with hot-and-cold running bimbos.”
“I didn’t say one word about bimbos!”
Murdock laughed, the sound like rumbling thunder. “Sit down and make yourself at home. I’ll put your suitcase in the bedroom.” He caught the startled look on her face and before she could protest, he said, “There are two bedrooms, so don’t be concerned that you’ll have to share a bed with me. Besides, why would I need you when I keep a bimbo on call twenty-four hours a day.”
Catherine’s eyes rounded into wide, startled, blue saucers. As Murdock disappeared behind a glass-block partition, she gritted her teeth. Only her strong willpower prevented her from stomping her foot. Damn the man! He enjoyed teasing her—another typical male trait she remembered Lanny McCroskey had possessed. She recalled when her mother had complained about his constant teasing, he’d said a man only teased a woman he liked. Then he’d kissed her mother and said or a woman he loves.
Did that mean that Murdock liked her? What did it matter? her inner voice questioned. He doesn’t have to like you to accompany you to Zaraza and act as your bodyguard. And you don’t have to like him. As a matter of fact, you’d be better off not liking him.
Just as she sat in one of the leather chairs, Murdock returned, minus his jacket. He had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows, revealing large, hairy forearms. A bevy of tiny nerves sent off shock waves inside her stomach. The man was so big, so overwhelmingly masculine that he took her breath away. Dear God, he intimidated the hell out of her.
“Want something to drink?” he asked. “Coffee? Tea? Cola? Whiskey?”
“Tea would be nice.”
“Hot or cold?”
“Uh-huh.” As if entranced in a hypnotic spell, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“Which?”
Warmth crept up her neck and into her face. Stop this right now! she warned herself. You’re acting like an idiot. So he intimidates you. Big deal! There is absolutely no reason to be afraid of him. Remember, he is supposed to be your protector.
“Hot tea, if it’s not too much trouble.” She deliberately avoided direct eye contact.
“Earl Grey?”
“Yes, that would be lovely.” Once again Murdock surprised her. She’d never have thought he would have Earl Grey tea in his cupboard. “By the way, did you put the briefcase in the bedroom, too?”
“I put the hundred thousand in the wall safe in my bedroom.”
“Oh.”
“You can trust me with the money, Catherine. There’s no one who wants to get Lanny out of that Zarazaian prison more than I do.”
“I wasn’t implying that you’d—”
“Sure you were, but don’t let it bother you. Despite the fact that Lanny is your father and was once my best friend doesn’t mean you and I have to be friends. Actually, to accomplish this mission, we don’t even have to like each other. All that’s necessary is for you to cooperate with me and follow my orders.”
“I’m well aware of the fact that you’re a professional, with years of experience in matters like this.” Catherine’s right hand fluttered nervously at her neck as her fingers toyed with the collar on her white silk blouse. “I have no intention of giving you any trouble, Mr. Murdock. I’m perfectly willing to accept your leadership in this matter.”
“Well, that takes a load off my mind, Catherine.” He emphasized the use of her given name and took great delight in the displeased look she gave him. But instincts warned him that her giving lip service to his leadership and actually following his orders were two different things entirely.
Murdock filled a kettle with tap water, then placed it on the stove eye to heat. Taking two black mugs and a small box from an upper cabinet, he set them on the counter and then removed a couple of tea bags and placed them in the oversize cups.
“I’d like to freshen up,” Catherine said.
“Bathroom is to your right, between the two bedrooms. Can’t miss it.”
“Thank you.”
She found the bathroom and hurried inside, then closed the door behind her. She slumped against the wall, letting her head rest on the cool glass-block surface that enclosed the small room. What was she doing here, in this man’s apartment, making preparations to fly away with him on a dangerous trip into foreign country? She didn’t have an adventurous bone in her body. All her life, she had taken the safe path, avoiding all unnecessary risks. And here she was, putting her life in this stranger’s hands, gambling her very existence on his ability to keep her safe. Had she completely lost her mind?
If you don’t go to Zaraza, your father will die in prison, her conscience taunted her. You have no choice, but to do the right thing. Somehow she knew that if her mother were alive, her mother would risk anything to save the man she had cut out of her life ages ago— A man whose name Mae Beth McCroskey had whispered with her last breath. If her mother had loved her father that much, then Lanny had to be worth saving.
Catherine wet a washcloth and patted the cool dampness over her face as she gazed into the mirror. She hadn’t slept well last night and it showed in the faint darkness under her eyes. After washing her hands, she left the sanctuary of the bathroom and returned to the kitchen area of Murdock’s apartment.
As she approached him, she said, “You knew my father very well, didn’t you?”
“He was my sergeant in Vietnam,” Murdock said. “That’s where we met. And then later, we worked together.”
“As mercenaries?” Catherine pulled out one of the round-back metal stools that lined the wide bar which separated the kitchen from the rest of the open space.
Murdock didn’t
