Hidden Pearl (40 page)

"I think it might be arranged, if... you were to tell him the way things are now."

"And how would that be?" she asked.

"That you're marrying me, that any hopes he might have had for you must be put aside. You tell him that; then he delivers the computer back to me, and we can let him go. I'll have no reason to hold him."

She met his gaze without wavering. She would have intuited his lies with or without Sharon's warning, but she couldn't let him know she knew. "I haven't had enough time to consider your proposal. I have a career. I don’t want to give that up."

"We can work the details out later, fair lady, but I want him to know you've chosen me. You understand how important that is?"

She understood his desire to further humiliate S.T. using her as a weapon against a man he clearly must see as a rival, but she wanted to see S.T. more than anything she could imagine. How could she tell the man she loved those lies about Soul? "I couldn't do it if you were there, watching. He wouldn't believe it anyway. He'd think I was lying because you were making me."

“I trust you, Christine… but only so far as of yet.”

"All right, I have no objection to your being outside and listening, so long as you don't come in until I knock on the door." She managed a shy smile that seemed to please him. He hugged her to him, making her flesh cringe at the horror of being touched intimately by any part of him. A marriage between them would never happen, but she had to let him think it was possible, long enough to get S.T. safely away. When he got away, he would have to stay away. Maybe S.T. could convince the police to come out. If not, she would find a way to escape.

#

"Look who I've brought you," Soul said, leading the way into the barren room that held S.T. and Hank. Christine, following, looked around to see if there were any other exits. None, nor were there windows. One door in and that guarded. She felt her heart break to see S.T. in chains as he lifted his head, opening his eyes. Would he believe she would betray him to save herself? His eyes showed none of his feelings.

"We have breakfast," Soul said, setting a tray down on the table. "Christine has offered to feed you two, while I tend to some other business. I thought it would be good for you all to find reassurance that everything is all right, that I'm not a monster you need fear."

Christine swallowed her own curse, a less than lady-like one. S.T.'s body was bruised and marked with welts; his wrists were marked by the chains that held him barely able to touch the ground? "Can't you let him sit to eat?" she asked, putting herself in front of Soul, forcing his gaze to meet hers.

"Anything to please the lady. I'm sorry we've had to restrain him so harshly, but he's not far from a savage when he's angry, but perhaps you've already witnessed that yourself."

Soul walked to the wall and took hold of one end of the chain that suspended S.T. from the ceiling, he released the tension enough to allow his arms to fall, still shackled in front of him. "Is that better?" he asked as he again padlocked the end of the chain. "Can't let our savage have too much freedom, he might hurt himself."

S.T. barely restrained a groan from the pain that the sudden movement of blood into his arms had brought. When he staggered, Christine brought over a chair and helped him lower his body onto it. His muscles refused to cooperate, making him grateful for her help, even as he realized it made him appear weaker, something that evidently suited Soul just fine as he stood smiling.

Christine turned then to look at Hank. "What have you done to them?" she asked, looking back accusingly at Soul.

"We've had to hold them securely."

"Well, you've certainly done that," she snapped, lifting Hank's head and looking into his staring unseeing eyes.

"Do you want to feed them breakfast or not?" Soul asked.

"Will I be permitted sufficient time to do that?" She held her ground, not giving an inch as Soul moved to stand in front of her.

"All that you need. Knock when you want to leave, someone will unlock the door." He gave her a knowing look and left the room, the lock securely clicking as he left.

Christine ran back to S.T., lifting his wrists to check the abrasions where the chains had rubbed the skin nearly to the point of bleeding, then looked to assess the welts from the whipping. Few had broken the skin but the welts looked painful and some would bruise. "Are you all right?" she whispered

"It's been an experience," he said. He used his head to indicate where as he mouthed the words of a hidden microphone. “How are you?"

She looked around the room and saw what was obviously a portal for a camera. She walked over to it and smeared the lens quickly with saliva. They’d still hear her but until it got cleansed, anyone’s view of what happened in the room would be blurry and of poor quality. She went back to where S.T. was watching as she lifted the lid off the warming tray. Bacon, toast, rolls, fruit, tea. She took the first piece of toast to Hank, putting it in his mouth, relieved to see his eyes look at her with awareness.

Kneeling beside S.T., she put a piece of bacon in his mouth, her fingers lingering. "I can feed myself," he said, lifting his chained hands to show her he was not helpless.

"I thought maybe it would take time for your hands to regain their feeling," she said, bringing him a cup of tea. “Is this safe to drink?” he asked. She sipped some. “I’ll drink some too.” When he tried to bring the tea cup to his mouth, he found he did need her help to drink. She brought him grapes, then fed Hank again. Alternating between them, she made no attempt to do more than minister to their physical needs. When S.T. signaled he'd had enough, she signaled to him to shift his position in the chair putting his big body between her and the smeared camera lens. She then sat back on her heels, her hands resting on his knees.

"Are you all right?" he repeated.

She nodded. "I've been treated very kindly, far better than you obviously. What did you do to bring on this cruelty?" she said loud enough to be sure the microphone would pick it up.

Before he could counter, she darted forward to press her mouth against his, kissing the angry, hard line, then running her tongue over his cracked lips as his mouth softened under her kiss.

"You never show good judgment, S.T.," she said, her lips now traveling to kiss his cheekbone, then forehead, coming back to close his eyes with her lips. "There's so much about you I don't like." She moved down the column of his neck to kiss the welts on his chest, the bruises, any place he'd been hurt.

"You're saying I'm stupid," S.T. retorted as she pressed her body against his but no more closely than his abused flesh could bear.

"Would you be in this mess if you were as intelligent as Peter?" she asked, her tone as righteous as she could manage, her lips soft as she continued to kiss his face, then center again on his lips.

"So now you admire him?" he asked, forcing an angry tone into his voice, not an easy task when he was being assaulted by her touch, her tender loving caresses.

"There are depths to him… I never dreamt," she said with a crooked smile. “I thought I knew but really never did.”

"So what now?" he asked, when she lifted her mouth from his.

She grinned, taking a nip at his lower lip. "What else--marriage."

"Marriage?" he nearly yelped out the word and pushed her back.

"What else is possible when a man loves a woman," she asked, moving to stand behind him, using her body this time to shield whatever view they might have of them as she ran her hand along the juncture of neck and shoulder. She glanced over at Hank and barely suppressed a laugh at his wink.

"You didn't seriously think I would consider such a thing with you," she said loudly, adding in a nearly soundless whisper as she ran her tongue around his ear, "unless, of course, you asked."

"I--" He started to respond, but she moved back to the front again, keeping his lips too busy for any thought of rebuttal. When she moved back, a smug, satisfied smile on her face, he forgot whatever he'd intended to say.

"You have to give Peter back his property. If I'd had any idea what you were doing, I'd never have helped you. You stole from him."

"Peter, huh?” he said playing along. “So you are going to marry him?" He didn't know if he was losing his mind or she was. Her kisses and touches were all love, at the same time her words were harsh and condemning. He understood what she was doing, knew how dangerous it was if Soul guessed the reality behind the words. Even knowing all that, he hated hearing her say she was going to marry another man, any other man, which is when he realized he was in way over his head with her. He might be able to escape from Soul. He never would be able to escape Christine.

“Yes.” Then added with no sound. "When rain falls up, when hell freezes over, when--" Aloud she said, "Whenever that all is possible."

He heard the sound of the doorknob and only had time to growl at her, thrusting her from him as he shouted, "You're an unfaithful slut!"

"Don't talk that way about Christine," Soul said, coming to put his arm protectively around her. Christine had to tighten her muscles to keep from jumping away. As they had known, he’d listened to every audible word.

"I've had enough of this. Let Hank and me go. I don't give a damn what she does," S.T. growled.

"I don't think so. I want that computer."

"I give you that--I'm dead. It seems we're at a stalemate."

"We would be except for..." Soul turned to Christine. "I wonder if you'd mind leaving while we discuss this unpleasant business."

She didn't want to leave, didn't want to let go of S.T. ever again, but she forced herself to smile and walk from the room, her back held stiff. If she hadn't seen George heading down the hall, she'd have stayed outside the door to listen. He left her no choice but to go back to her own room. She was more than a little surprised when no one went with her to make sure she didn't run away. She gathered she was being granted a measure of trust, not likely a very large one.

"Glad you got back," Soul said looking up as George entered the room.

"So what do we do next?"

"We're working out the arrangements for picking up the property."

"So," George said, grinning at S.T., "he broke."

"He is going to cooperate, aren't you?" Soul said, not waiting for an answer before adding, "because he knows he has friends in Portland who could disappear, friends totally unprepared for tragic problems. He's got a mother in Arizona, not beyond our reach. He has finally understood he is powerless and has to trust in our goodness when he does what is right. Isn't that right,
half-breed?"

S.T. clamped down his mouth, angry at the threats, frustrated at his inability to protect those he cared for, enraged at having seen Soul's hands touching Christine, and ready to kill anyone who got too close. He managed an angry nod. In a short span of time, he had gone from being a man seemingly in control of his life to what Soul had called him, a near savage—someone who could and would kill if required.

"You're not going to trust him?" George asked disbelief in his voice.

"Of course not. You're going with him, but first we have to clean him up a bit as it seems a trip to the bank is on the agenda. "

"You're not expecting me to be lady's maid, are you?" George growled.

Soul laughed. "I doubt that'll be necessary. We can take him down to the men's showers, then get him some clothes from one of the men close to his size. He looked back at S.T. "That meet with your approval?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, when you’re ready, George is going with you. We've played around with this too long. If you disagree, we'll take out your foreman and work our way through others until you finally believe we mean what we say."