Capture

As he speaks he sheds his clothes, sending his boxers spinning across the room with a flick of his foot. He sprawls out along the bed and hauls me up on top of him, finding my mouth with a sigh of welcome that tells me how much he’s wanted this and, thrillingly, how much he’s wanted me here.

‘Ride me. Tease me first. Please, Ella.’

His soft request is a surprise – usually by this stage we’re long past the need for permissions. Eagerly I curve over his erection and lean forward to taste. It twitches in my mouth, glossy and hot, as impatient as me.

He lets out a low groan. ‘Whoa, easy. You’re too good. Now get yourself up here.’

I climb along him and lower myself onto his hot shaft with a low growl of pleasure. I put my hands on his shoulders and gaze into his slanted, intelligent face as he surges up inside me, his hot, hard length filling my belly, its shape losing focus as he thrusts, blending into the soft clutches of my lower muscles. Now all I feel is his heat and his drive.

The fire in his eyes spurs me on and I speed up to ride him. He jolts in response, his power and his strength overwhelming mine, his rhythm taking me over. In minutes he’s rolled over on top of me, taking charge with easy male grace.

‘Having fun?’ I mean to tease but instantly his expression clouds.

‘Ella? You’re right. What was I thinking? Ladies first. Fiancées especially.’

And to my joy he slows, grinding against me with the prowess of an athlete, his honed body slicing into me with his superior power and his urgent, pounding drumbeat until I’m scorching and ready, poised at the brink of massive, blessed release.

In seconds I come with kind of long, low moan, the feral call of my inner female. His answering grunt seals our pleasure and soon we’re lying full length, bundled together in love, as the sinking Californian sun paints us gold where its reflection shines from the mirrors opposite.

* * *

Later he shows me round the house. It’s even larger inside than it looks from a distance, so much of it hugs the low-slung cliff. From outside I see it’s built at an angle to capture the best views of the sea. It stretches down a couple of further floors for staff, garaging and deliveries.

We walk along the beach a little way and explore part of the cove. As we crunch along the shingle he skips stones across the water but his dark glances make me burn deep down as his answers to my eager questions – how did you find this place? – who else comes here? – get shorter and shorter. Finally I tail off as he pulls me close.

‘Hey, let’s eat. I’m starving. You can explore tomorrow. And I’ll show you your Christmas present.’

Our meal is light and fun, a platter of exotic seafood arranged by his Mexican cook – icy caviar, light and salt; small rosy shrimps, soft and sweet; oysters like liquid heaven. Darnley pours champagne and we sip from tall flutes and nibble rough chunks of fresh home-made bread, dipped in small bowls of pale melted butter and hot, tasty sauces. I make merry in his arms as the night grows late and he plays old blues records.

When we finally get to bed the quilt has been smoothed again, fresh flowers left in a bowl, the lighting low. But it’s a long time before we sleep.

* * *

I wake with a start in a shaft of moonlight. I can feel his arms folded around me. But all around us is a wall of noise, like wild, roaring thunder. ‘What the …?’

I stare wildly around as Darnley, heavy at my back, starts to stir.

In a panic I tear myself out of his arms and rush to the window.

A motorcycle is revving up outside. The noise is deafening.

I push aside the drape so I can see clearly.

Barely feet away, moonlight silvers the hard black outline of a huge bike, its rider covered from head to foot in black leather. When he turns his head he’s wearing goggles, his face unrecognisable. He looks like some giant, evil insect. And he’s grinning.

My stomach lurches and now I get a nauseous waft of exhaust fumes.

All at once light spills out from other parts of the house. I can hear shouts. The house is awake. But as footsteps start to ring out on the driveway the bike roars off.

I take a deep breath and lower the drape. ‘That was a shock. Do you often get stray tourists this close to the house at night?’ As I turn back to the bed my shaky smile dies on my face. I’m talking to an empty room.

Darnley’s in the en-suite, throwing up.

I can hear the engine noise fading into the distance. But in here the damage is done. The room is still acrid with exhaust fumes. And for some reason Darnley’s being sick.

‘You OK?’ I peer at him in alarm.

He’s leaning against the door frame. He’s shaking.

‘What the heck was all that noise? It sounded like …’

He sways. And all at once I understand. He’s thinking of Kraik, the tormentor from his childhood, cuffing him to a steering wheel and revving up the engine …

‘It’s OK,’ I murmur gently. I take his arm and am shocked to find him cold. ‘Come back to bed.’

When he’s stretched out beside me I twitch the quilt over him and dart into the en-suite to fetch him some water. By the time I’m back he’s asleep again but he feels like ice. I get in beside him, careful not to disturb him more than I must, and wind my arms and legs around him. As I settle my head on his chest he murmurs sleepily into my hair. ‘Something wake us up? That noise …’

I tighten my grip. ‘It was nothing. Bad dream.’

His soft, regular breathing tells me he’s already drifting off. Maybe tomorrow he won’t even remember.

But I lie awake for a long time, my arms clamped round him, my mind racing. Two scary incidents in one day? Is that normal out here? And as I finally drift into sleep another, even scarier thought hovers at the edges of my brain like an evil fairy.

Kraik again? I thought we’d moved on from that too.

* * *

‘Hey. Eat up your cereal like a good girl. I can’t wait to show you your present.’ Darnley’s already put away a plateful of ham and eggs and several slices of toast in double-quick time. I’m still toying with a bowl of sweetened cereal and sipping gulps of glorious, freshly squeezed orange juice from some local farm.

To my delight he seems to have forgotten about last night.

I make a note to ask the staff if bikers often stray from the highway or if that was just a one-off.

I learn my present is nearby and he waits impatiently while I haul a thin sweater over my tight jeans. It’s far warmer here than back home. We’re twenty degrees or so higher than my home state of Maine, currently in the throes of a massive blizzard. But it is still January. They have winter, even here. The sunshine has a spring-like crispness to it that warns me the wind’s chillier than it looks.

‘Have you guessed what it is yet?’ His grin is infectious as he grips my hand to haul me down the slope to the beach, and now I’m genuinely mystified.

I laugh, excited now, thrilled he’s so carefree. ‘Obviously not,’ I say gaily. ‘How should I know? Jewelled handcuffs on a rock? A surfboard?’ I make a solemn vow to be enchanted with it whatever it is, after last night’s scary flash from the past. ‘Give me a hint. It’s made of metal? It catches fish? Will I regret this?’

But as we pass a rocky outcrop part-way down the hill I stop dead. Pulled up on the shingle, and tied with a giant scarlet bow, is a boat.

Not just any boat. It’s smallish, stylish, racy and gleaming white. At one end there’s a small two-stroke motor. And part of the hull has a glass panel. I can use it to see underwater.

‘You like?’ He almost laughs as he drags me the last few feet towards it. As I reach it I touch a reverent finger to its elegant prow. It feels silky smooth and gleams in the sunshine. Inside there’s a narrow bench seat all around. Damp shingle and tiny shells press into the glass panels near the floor.

‘Toughened glass. I wanted to get you a flat-bottomed boat like they use in Hawaii but the seas round here are too rough. So a guy along the coast built me this.’

I swallow. ‘It’s lovely. How can I ever thank you?’

He kisses me long and deep. ‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way. Fancy a trip?’

‘Now?’ I don’t even wait for an answer. I start to drag it down to the water.

It’s so light I can pull it by myself, but as it’s my first time Darnley takes one side and we carry it easily between us. When it’s bobbing in the shallows he loops the rope over a mooring post wedged into the rock at the edge of the beach and holds out his hand. ‘Madame, your gondola.’

I lose my footing instantly as I clamber in and he scoops me up from the floor just as a splash from an incoming wavelet sprays water all over us.

‘You’d better wear the wetsuit too if your sea legs are as rusty as that.’ He gestures at some sealed packages stowed in the prow. When I explore I find a wet suit, goggles and even a snorkel.

He grins fondly as I exclaim over them and then shows me how to start the thing before leaping out and pushing the craft down into the surging waves. To my delight the small motor starts first pull.

He stays on the shingle, legs astride. ‘Off you go. Don’t head too far west or you’ll run out of gas before you reach China. Stay close to the coast.’ He turns and strides away and all at once I’m alone in my very own boat, with a whole new ocean at my feet.

I head for the open water. Through the glass I see the shingle fade into sand and then quickly become a deep, murky blue-green as, far below, the beach shelves away into the deep. Soon I cut the engine and look longingly out at the glittering little wavelets. The water is very tempting, glittering in the sunlight. If only I could swim, just for a few minutes … do I dare?

The breeze is chilly but the sun is warm. The shore’s deserted. There’s no one around … In minutes I’ve stripped off. Quivering with excitement I stretch and dive in, entering the water in a perfect, near-silent curve. The water’s a shock – far colder than it looks. But the feel of it on my bare skin is gorgeous – crisp and clean.

I splash about happily in the sunshine for several minutes before clambering back over the side. Heady with freedom I stand up to let the sun warm me through. For a few glorious moments I turn round to catch the sun on all sides and then I wriggle back into my things. Next time I’ll bring a towel – or even try out the wet suit.

I head back to shore, peering eagerly down through the glass panels at the murky shadows below. At last the shelving beach once more glides into view and I park my new present neatly on its shelf of gravelly sand.

As I look up the first person I see is Darnley, striding down the sloping beach to meet me. But, as he draws near, the fury in his face wipes the happy smile off mine.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

CHAPTER THREE

Bewildered, I stare up at him. ‘Swimming, obviously …’ I tail off at the rage in his eyes. I hold his gaze, frowning. ‘Is that a problem? There’s nobody around.’

Darnley looks at me steadily. ‘Sure. Nobody in sight for miles. Let’s go out again. I’ll come too. You drive.’

What now? Why’s he so angry? More unscripted street art?

As we head back out into the bay he’s so silent it’s scary. Something’s very wrong. Looks like I’ll have to wait to find out what it is.

At last he checks his watch and angles it to the sun. ‘OK. Just about here.’

I see we’re drifting roughly where I was before. ‘What are you checking? Are we late for something?’

He glances up, his look dark. ‘Co-ordinates. Longitude and latitude.’

Watching him I feel a tiny thrill as the breeze ruffles his hair and sunlight glints in his dark eyes. And we’re out here all alone, on the wide ocean, and there’s nobody around for miles … ‘We hunting treasure or something?’

‘Cut the motor.’

He’s not laughing now. I feel a sudden unease as he stands up in the middle of the boat and holds out his hand. As I seize it he hauls me to my feet, pulls me up close and winds his arms round me, pressing me against him.

I laugh up at him, relishing his warmth and his power. ‘You’re good in boats. Anyone would think you’d spent all your life on water –’ I break off as he fastens on my mouth, stopping my breath. Startled, I respond instantly. Now? He wants action now?

Water ripples along the sides of the boat. Far overhead gulls scream, like they’re laughing. I’m trapped hard against a tower of sinew and muscle as he flexes to balance, easy as a sailor. He starts to jut against me in a deliberate act of possession, nudging against my yielding softness and finding me only too eager … yes, yes, just there …

He winds one hand into my hair and presses the other tightly into the small of my back, spreading his hand wide, his fingers kneading deep into my rear. He knows precisely what he’s doing. He forces me against him, his grip firm at the base of my spine. He’s doing delicious, wicked, forbidden things to me as the wind whips my hair around us both. His flexing hips, the hard lines of his thighs pressing either side of mine, even the sunlight glowing through my eyelids – everything is sending my arousal into hyperdrive …

He loosens his kiss a little, but only to linger on my lips, his tongue softer now, searching along mine to caress and taste, sending sparks of excitement through me to highlight the hot glow building lower down where our hips are grinding together. When he finally loosens his grip on my tail I almost lose my balance.

‘Hey.’ He clutches me tight again, his grasp on my hips my only balancing point as I grope for the rail. At that moment a sudden breeze lashes a wave against the side. Water splashes over us as the boat rocks violently.

‘You OK? Looks like somebody’s been seriously landlocked. You need some practice.’ He laughs as I bend low and he butts against me in fun.

All at once he lands a hard slap on my rump, and then another. I shout, partly in surprise, partly with laughter. But there’s something darker going on here, some new edge to his manner. It’s play, but something else too. He slaps me again. I’m already bent double but this time I jolt forward so my face swoops down close to the glass panel.

Instantly I freeze. And then I scream.

But not for fun.

I’m staring at something so unlikely I can only gape, too shocked to speak.

Darnley’s laughing softly somewhere over my head. ‘Too hard? Just you wait. You can get up now.’

But I’m not listening. I’m still locked in position, bent double and rigid with shock. I’m staring at a face.

And it’s not my reflection. It’s wearing goggles and it’s grinning.

Somebody’s down there watching.

* * *

‘Face? What kind of face? There’s nobody around here for miles. If somebody was playing around underwater we’d have seen them.’ Darnley’s not buying it. He scowls at the water and then restarts the engine, his expression grim.

I’ve broken the spell. I feel a prickle of guilt. ‘Somebody was peering in. I saw them. He had goggles. He could be anywhere …’ I look round in a panic. ‘He was grinning.’

The shock must show in my face but Darnley’s unmoved. ‘The beach is public land. We get tourists round here even in winter. But there’s nobody out here now. You saw some seaweed. Or maybe a seal.’

When we get to the shore he pulls the boat up the slipway and watches tight-lipped while I replace the cover. Indoors I can hear him on the phone, his voice thick with fury while I rinse sand off my toes in the en-suite. Slowly I tune in to what he’s saying.

‘That’s impossible. Nobody gets through. Check again. It’s supposed to be foolproof, dammit. We’ll be there after lunch. I expect a result by then.’

I frown as I join him. ‘We’re going out this afternoon?’

He cuts the call, his manner breezy. ‘We’re going over to the training complex. You’ll meet some of the people you’ll be working with. Now come with me.’

He’s still not looking at me.

He seizes my hand and drags me through the house and down a couple of flights of stairs to a tough-looking metal door. I’m feeling more and more uneasy.

‘This is the control room. There’s something here I want you to see.’

The room is festooned with cable and lined with screens. Men in T-shirts and jeans, I assume technicians, shoot to their feet looking scared. At Darnley’s scowl they quickly leave.

He turns to me, his eyes cold. ‘Watch.’ He flicks a remote at a screen.

All at once I’m looking out over the bay. Centre-screen a woman is splashing about in the water, glistening and naked. She looks insanely happy and carefree. She dives a couple of times, then floats on her back, upthrust breasts glistening in the sunlight. As I watch she clambers up into a small boat and poses, fully on view as she prepares to dive again. I hold my breath as a dreadful chill steals over me.

It’s me.

‘Keep watching.’

He speeds up the film and now he’s in the boat too and he’s towering over me, looking down at me … and all at once we’re locked in a clinch so intense I feel a throb of arousal just watching.

Slowly I tear my eyes away and glare at him. ‘You took pictures? Why?’

His eyes blaze. ‘This is security footage, dammit. We were doing a random sweep of the bay. The camera’s on-watch even when you think nobody’s around.’

I glare at him, temper rising as icy shock gives way to fury. ‘And whenever you want some hot action? It’s on then?’

My voice is husky. But the footage is still tracking. My voice tails off as I see the boat rocking and me bending over, facing away. He’s grinning down at me, holding me firmly by the hips as I scrabble to balance and all at once he lands an almighty slap on my backside …

My mouth’s gone dry. ‘What are you doing? Those men could have seen this.’

His eyes blaze. ‘Fuck it, Ella, what do you think I’m doing? Of course they’ve seen it. The whole damn complex saw it.’

I round on him. ‘So you serve me up as free soft-core with their coffee? Next time you want fun in a boat, damn well call an escort. You could have said you had cameras watching.’

Sickened, I turn away but an iron hand clamps on my arm and propels me round to face him. His face is like granite, his eyes ablaze.

‘Do I always have to spell it out? Of course I had cameras watching, I always have cameras watching. That’s what security is. That’s what I do. And that was to teach you – and them – a lesson.’

‘A lesson?’ I wrench my arm away. ‘Let go of me.’ I take a few steps back just to make sure. ‘You deliberately let me think we were having some private time in my boat and you were filming it just to give me a lesson?’

‘Keep your voice down. Listen to me –’ He steps towards me and I take another step back.

‘I just listened. And I can’t believe you just did that.’

He lets out an impatient sigh. ‘One of the first things security people learn is to be discreet around their employers, no matter what. And believe it or not, one of the first things employers should learn is to consider their employees’ feelings and not get too carried away. So today they learned their lesson and you learned yours. From now on their behaviour towards you will be monitored. If they get over-friendly, or make you feel uncomfortable, they’ll lose marks.’

‘What? So I’m an exercise now? I’m your fiancée, Darnley. I have a position here. And you owe me respect.’ I dart out of the door and race up the steps.

Fury has strange effects. One of them is it clears things. As I run through the house up to our rooms all that bothers me is how fast I can pack, what I’ll need to take and how I get to the airport. Mercifully no one follows as I ram clothes into a holdall, reach for a thick jacket and check my purse has credit cards, loose change and tissues.

From the feel of it I’ll need plenty – but not yet.

As I make for the door a tall figure bars my way.

‘Going somewhere?’ Darnley’s glaring at me, his presence a powerful bar to my plans.

I catch my breath at the reality of him, looming in front of me. He looks so good … ‘I’m leaving. And don’t try to stop me.’

‘What? Why?’

I stare at him, stunned. ‘Why? Because you can’t do that. You can’t disrespect me like that in front of other people. Is that what you planned when you brought me out here?’

‘It was just a kiss, Ella.’ He’s frowning, like I’m talking in some weird foreign language. Like it’s me who’s unreasonable. ‘Your freestyle antics got a lot of attention. I was making a statement. I wanted to make sure everybody here knows exactly whose you are and why you’re here.’ He spreads his hands, his expression calm, but anger sharpens the tone of his voice, adds a glint to his eyes. ‘And believe it or not, that was the simplest way to do it. Now they’ll think twice before trying anything funny. And with any luck so will you.’ His eyes flare again. ‘And next time, wear your fucking wet suit. That’s what it’s for.’

‘Next time? Who says there’ll be a next time?’

For a second, shock shows in his eyes. I waver, but only for an instant. He was filming that – me in an open boat … what else might he film? Maybe he’s got cameras lined up everywhere. Maybe I’ve walked into some porno nightmare, where everything we do is going to be filmed, packaged up, marketed and sold …

I try to push past him. ‘Let me go.’

He bars my way, immovable as rock. ‘Ella. Please.’ He pushes me back against the wall. ‘There are things I have to tell you about this place. I should have told you before.’ His eyes glint as he glares down at me. ‘First off, that thing in the boat made perfect sense to me.’

I open my mouth to protest but he claps a hand over my mouth. ‘OK, OK, not to you. I get it. But you work with troubled people, Ella. I’d have thought you of all people would understand what I’m trying to do here.’

‘I do understand. And I want to help. But that was plain wrong.’

His eyes glimmer. ‘Was it? Why? Because I take you out in a boat and kiss you? We do it all the time. Other people do it all the time. And in public.’

‘Not for that.’ I break off, startled at the flicker of pain that crosses his face. I summon patience. ‘OK. So tell me why you think that’s acceptable. I’m new here.’

‘Me too, dammit.’ His eyes blaze. ‘That’s what I’m trying to say. We’re all new here.’ He runs his hand along my arm, his touch on my skin like a shimmer of electricity.

His eyelids lower. Like he senses my response, his voice lowers. ‘That’s what this place is all about. Thinking outside the box. I told you that before we came. You knew what to expect. And this is what it’s like. I’m trying out something new here. We’re all learning. Even me. You may see or hear weird things, odd behaviour. Our recruits come from all over. Some of them may be – unpredictable.’

He’s frowning, his touch on my arm magnetic. His hand moves gently on my skin, his fingers folding round my arm. ‘OK, that was a mistake. But I’m relying on you, Ella. Don’t give up on me yet. Be patient.’

And all at once he pulls me close and stops my mouth with his. His attack is so sudden, his tongue so disturbing, I react instantly. I kiss him back in a frenzy as he takes possession, forcing me back hard against the wall, his tongue angry and probing, his erection, hard and rampant, grinding into me.

When he releases my mouth I smile slowly, forgiving him fast. My fierce surge of arousal is a powerful persuader, but I take one last kick. ‘What’s this? Still making a claim? We’re not in the boat now.’

His grinds against me again, pressing painfully into my soft, swelling places, He sets up a steady, cynical rhythm with his hips, sending darts of fire shooting through me.

Oh, yes … almost there …