Page 54 of Prisoner of War
“Hear what?”
“That scratchingsound. Coming from above the ceiling. I’ve been hearing it on and off all day.”
Zalaya glanced at the ceiling and shrugged. “There’s nothing above you but the roof. It’s nesting season. It could be birds. Or mice.”
Serrano grimaced. “Spring already. I tell you, Escobedo will move before the summer storms.”
“And I tell you he won’t be ready that fast. He can’t. He has no money and few men. Itis physically impossible to recruit, train and equip a big enough force to take back a country in five months.”
“Not if he has help,” Serrano said darkly.
“You’re being paranoid again.” Zalaya got to his feet, moving stiffly as he often did toward the end of the day. “The Americans are refusing to speak to him.”
“They’re not talking to us either.”
* * * * *
Minnie crept into the big bed andhugged herself, warmed and comforted by that one ghostly word on the mirror. The warning about the microphone forced her to merely mouth Duardo’s name to herself. It was enough. She pulled a length of the chain in with her so she could cover herself. The brown paper bag at the foot of the bed crinkled with her movements. It was Zalaya’s bag. She kicked until it fell off the bed then curled herselfup into a ball.
She woke to the feel of lips upon her neck, the caress of a tongue beneath her ear. She thought she was on the edge of dreams again, for Duardo’s hand was caressing her. She sighed her contentment, rolling over to allow him better access. Her shoulder came up against his hard chest, her legs tangled in his. So good, so very good...
She heard the sound of metal clinking and itreminded her of the chain that she was fast coming to hate. That was when she froze, her heart hammering.
She wasn’t sleeping at all. This was real. Zalaya was behind her, caressing her. He was in the bed with her and from the little she could feel, as naked as she.
He caressed her with the gentleness of a real lover. It was Duardo’s touch. “Pretend I am your soldier,” he said and she knew hespoke for the microphone.
She lay against him in the dark as his hand stroked her. She wept silently. The tears were those of joy and remembrance. She’d risked everything by flying directly into hell on earth just to learn what had become of him and had been rewarded with the most unexpected, ultimate prize—Duardo himself. In this evil place, she had been blessed with a pocket of time to feelhis arms around her, his body against her.
He had pulled down the blinds so not even the starlight could illuminate them for the camera. All she could sense was his hands and the heat of his body against her.
He wiped her tears and kissed her and at last she knew that this was Duardo, the shell of Zalaya discarded. His touch melted the thousand questions that had pummeled at her. None of themmattered here and now.
He stroked her throat, her face, the full length of her body. Nothing was spared. Her body responded with an arousal that made her almost dizzy with its power.
“Yes,” he whispered and rolled her over onto her back.
Except for inconclusive, unsatisfying dreams, she had not felt Duardo’s hands on her for an eon. She had forgotten the joy of a man’s touch. How could shehave foregone this primal pleasure?
He was baiting her. Coaxing her. With slow seduction, he took her, possessing her with a nearly forgotten mastery.
It wasn’t until he lay down beside her that she realized both her hands were free. The cuff had been removed while she slept, at the time he had slipped into the bed beside her.
She held him to her, encouraging him with her hands, caressing him.Her fingers felt the ridges of what could only be a scar, close to his spine, level with his shoulder blade.
It was not the last coupling that night. He seemed inexhaustible. Driven. Minnie let him take her how he wished and reveled in it all.
She woke to daylight and stretched like a cat, feeling tendons pop and muscles flex with the delicious ache that came after greedy, abandoned sex. Shewas forced to abort the movement when the chain around her wrist brought her arm to a halt. She looked down at the cuff and the chain pooled under the sheet with her.
She didn’t remember him replacing it. She didn’t remember anything beyond her exhausted slide into sleep.
She quickly rolled over to check the other side of the bed. It was empty. But the sound of running water and the closed bathroomdoor told her where he was. The water shut off as she listened and her heart pattered harder.
She scrambled out of the bed and gathered up the hateful chain in her hand. She tried the door handle and it turned without resistance.
The door was ripped aside, tearing the handle from her hand. He stood before her, fully naked except for the patch over his eye. “You dare interrupt me without permission!”he roared and shoved her hard, back into the bedroom.
She almost tripped over the chain and scrambled backward to keep her footing as he came after her, shrugging into a bathrobe he pulled from behind the door. Without the cane he limped heavily.
