Page 50 of Prisoner of War
Eventually, she dozed and her thoughts drifted. She knew she was dreaming,for Duardo was with her. His hands were on her body. In her dream, Minnie arched back as Duardo’s long fingers slid over her with a knowing stroke. Her body was hyper-alert and that single stroke left her quivering, with every nerve ending sizzling with expectation. She yearned for another stroke and silently cried for it.
She was woken by the rattle of blinds rolling up and the flood of lateafternoon sun through the tall windows. She blinked in the light. Zalaya turned from the window and faced her. “How did you get to Vistaria, hmm? I failed to ask that question this morning.”
Minnie sat up, trying to push aside her confusion. Her body was still heavy with arousal, her mind sluggish with after-images of Duardo’s hands stroking her.
“What do you mean?” she asked, playing for time.
“I mean, how did you travel here?”
“The usual way,” she said and shrugged, trying to look carefree. Only, with Zalaya in the shadows and the light in her eyes, it was as if the old Duardo stood before her. Her aroused body could not distinguish the difference.
Zalaya gave an impatient wave of his hand. “There have been no commercial flights into Vistaria in four months—not since we defeatedthe old guard.”
“I have been here six months,” she said.
“That is not possible. Vistarian customs and immigration only issue three-month tourist visas. Your name does not appear on any passenger flights before the revolution.” He smiled and added with a deceptively mild voice. “There have been no commercial flights since then.”
She thought it through swiftly. She had lied her way into a corner.Usually she was better at thinking ahead than this, but her confused state had hampered her ability. She fell back on an old tactic. The truth—or as much of it as she could afford to reveal.
“You’re right, I didn’t fly in. I came over the night before last night, by boat.”
“From?” he said sharply.
“Acapulco.”
“You own a boat?”
It was another trap. She could feel her heart warn her by jumpinghard. “I stole it. Which is why I didn’t tell you first time around.”
“And this boat is where?”
“Some bay. I don’t know this place all that well.”
“Yet you found your way from ‘some bay’ to the city without problems.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t have problems. It took me two days.”
He considered this for a long moment. “We found the boat,” he said.
He had been playing with her. He’d known allalong about Nick’s yacht. She had told him exactly what he had wanted to hear.
He added casually, as if it were a throw-away detail, “It’s too big for one person to handle.”
Thank god Carmen was an incessant talker! Minnie dredged up Carmen’s run-off-at-the-mouth speech about sailing it one handed. “Not if you know what you’re doing,” she told Zalaya. “You can’t use a spinnaker, of course, butif you short sheet the jib and keep it tight, then you can manage it. It’s slower, but it gets you there.”
His brows lifted. Then his eyes narrowed. “I don’t suppose you know whose boat it is that you stole?”
Minnie just barely hid her surprise. Of course they would have recognized the boat. The real Zalaya would have known it was Nick’s.
“How the hell would I know?” she told him. “And whywould I care?”
He considered her for a long, thoughtful moment. “Indeed,” he said at last, his voice dry. He shifted the cane under his hand and moved his weight.
Minnie thought: Change of directions. New tactic.
“Who is ‘Duardo’?” he asked.
She swallowed dryly, unable to prevent her eyes from widening in shock. Why would he ask that here?
