The devils own, p.15
The Devil's Own, page 15
When Kerry returned, Jenny had insisted that she spoil herself with a long bubble bath. Without a trace of reluctance, Kerry had stripped off the vile clothes she had lived in for almost four days.
Only when she untied the bandana from around her neck did her fingers falter. Since Linc had given it to her, she regretted having to remove it. She laundered the handkerchief in the bathroom sink and hung it up to dry. Unless he asked for it back, she intended to keep it as a memento of her one wild, brief, unconsummated, but no less ardent, love affair.
Now, voices drifted to her from the dining room. Her stomach was queasy with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Bolstering her courage, she stepped through the arched doorway into a mellow pool of candlelight and hesitated on the threshold. Jenny was the first to spot her.
“There you are.”
“Wow!” Cage whistled appreciatively. “A little soap and water can do wonders.”
Linc said nothing. He was caught in the act of lifting a can of beer to his mouth. It stayed poised there in midair for several counts, before he actually drank from it. Kerry went in and took a chair across the table from him.
“This is so nice of you, Jenny.” She gazed in awe at the flower centerpiece, the bright, sterling candlesticks, the china and crystal and silver.
“I thought the two of you deserved a quiet, leisurely dinner. Lunch was rather hectic. Relax and enjoy yourselves. The report from the trailers is that the children are asleep.”
“I just hope I don’t disgrace myself,” Kerry said, running her fingers over the handle of her salad fork. “I’ve lived in the jungle for so long, I hardly remember how to use silverware properly.”
“It will all come back to you,” Jenny said with a gentle smile. “And if it doesn’t, we won’t mind.” Cage passed her a plate filled with food. “We’re used to eating with Trent. His table manners are atrocious.”
“Cute kid,” Linc commented. “He made the others feel right at home.”
“Yeah,” Cage said. “He taught them by example how to attack a bowl of homemade ice cream.”
Laughing, Kerry asked, “Where is he?”
“Blissfully asleep,” his mother said wearily. “Eat quietly.”
Kerry was surprised at how rich and deep Linc’s laughter could be when it wasn’t tinged with cynicism. It rolled over her like a wave. Apparently Cage, who was of the same broad-shouldered, slim-hipped build, had lent him a pair of jeans and a shirt. He had showered, and his hair, though it could still stand a trim, had been washed and brushed back. His face had been closely shaved. Without the stubble, his jaw looked even more unrelievedly masculine than before, which was a disquieting thought. She detected the faint outline of a white bandage beneath his shirt.
While they ate, their conversation centered mainly on the orphans. “I distributed copies of your press release to the disgruntled reporters.”
“Thank you, Cage.”
“We’ll tell you about the applicants for adoptions, but tomorrow is soon enough for that.”
“Thank you again. I’m so tired, I don’t think I could assimilate anything tonight,” Kerry admitted. “I’m sure you screened the couples carefully. Are all of them as wonderful as the Flemings?”
“Gary and Roxie are special friends, so we’re biased. But we think the others will be super parents, too.”
After a pause in the conversation, Jenny smiled at Linc and said, “I never guessed that I’d be so honored as to have a celebrity at my table.”
“Where?” he asked, comically turning his head from side to side as though searching for the celebrity.
The Hendrens continued to prod him until he enlightened and entertained them with stories of his adventures as a photojournalist. He downplayed the danger he frequently encountered and embellished some of the more humorous anecdotes.
“But,” he said, pushing aside his dessert plate after eating two helpings of apple pie, “this latest escapade in Monterico was about the scariest situation I’ve ever been in.”
A major portion of the afternoon had been taken up by their recounting their tale. Cage and Jenny, the Flemings and Cage’s parents had listened with disbelief as they told them all that had happened to them on their way to the border.
“I’m in no hurry to go back,” Kerry said now.
“Neither were we once we got out,” Cage said.
Linc looked at him in surprise. “We? You were there? When?”
“After my brother was executed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s all right. Jenny and I had to go down there and identify Hal’s body and escort it back.” He reached across the corner of the table and took her hand, squeezing it. “It was an unpleasant experience for both of us.” He stared into space reflectively. “Although, if it hadn’t been so spoiled by the civil war, Monterico could be a beautiful place.” He gazed at his wife. “The tropical climate was rather sensuous as I recall.”
Because Cage and Jenny were looking at each other with such absorption, they missed the fleeting look that passed between their guests. Both Kerry and Linc vividly remembered a night spent beneath the shelter of a vine, a heavy rainfall that surrounded them with a pounding as fierce as that of a heart on fire, and the seductive perfume of jungle flowers, naked skin and earth combined into a potent aphrodisiac.
That night seemed unreal now. It could have happened to two other people in another lifetime. They couldn’t have lain together so closely and be this remotely detached from one another now. He couldn’t have quieted her fears and dried her tears then and hurt her as he had this morning with his cruel words.
Kerry looked across the table at Linc; he was a stranger. They had shared cups of water and scraps of bread, passionate kisses and equally passionate arguments, and yet she knew so little about him.
“Neither of you has explained how you came to be teamed up,” Jenny said. “How did you become involved with Kerry’s work, Linc?”
Kerry jumped as though she’d been struck with an electric cattle prod. She met Linc’s hard gaze across the table. His expression was smug. He might have cleaned up on the outside, he might look prettier, but he was still rotten to the core on the inside. He was as cunning and calculating as ever, a ruthless street fighter who never cried uncle.
“I think Kerry should be the one to tell you that,” he said. If she dares. That remained unspoken, but Kerry clearly read the challenge in his eyes.
It was a challenge she didn’t dare back down from. Setting her chin at a stubborn angle, she said, “I recruited him.” He made a rude, scoffing sound. She flashed him a poisonous look. “All right, I...I...”
“Shanghaied,” Linc supplied drolly.
Kerry sprang to her feet, furious with him for airing their quarrel in front of the Hendrens. “You just won’t be nice about this, will you?”
He bolted from his chair. “Nice? Nice? You kidnapped me, lady. You deliberately destroyed a month’s worth of hard work. You made me miss my plane out of that godforsaken hellhole. You got me captured by a bunch of cutthroats, chased, shot at, nearly drowned and you expect me to be nice about it?”
Chest heaving with agitation, he pointed at Kerry accusingly as he addressed Cage and Jenny. “She dressed up like a whore and lured me out of a tavern. That’s how she ‘recruited’ me. I went with her, thinking I was gonna get laid and... Oh, sorry, Jenny.”
“That’s all right,” Jenny mumbled.
“He’s failed to mention that he was drunk at the time,” Kerry sneered. “And I didn’t lure him, I dragged him because he couldn’t stand up under his own power.”
“And that makes it okay?” Linc yelled across the table.
“I thought he was a mercenary,” Kerry told their avid listeners. “And he is. He’ll get paid for his time and trouble,” she said scathingly. “Before you go pinning any medals of valor on him, maybe you should know that he didn’t do anything out of largesse. I had to agree to pay him fifty thousand dollars so he wouldn’t turn me and the children over to El Presidente.”
“That’s not why I demanded to be paid, and you damn well know it.” Linc moved forward menacingly, as though he was going to climb over the table to get to her. “The money was to repay me for the film you destroyed. That’s about how much revenue you cost me. But it doesn’t begin to reimburse me for having to put up with you for the last four days.” He tossed his napkin down beside his plate. “Cage, would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to drive me into town?”
Jenny Hendren sprang from her chair. “You’re not leaving?”
“I’m afraid so, Jenny.” Linc liked Cage’s wife very much. They had been on a first name basis since earlier that afternoon. She was gracious and kind and straightforward, soft, womanly, and even-tempered—everything that Kerry Bishop was not. “Not that I don’t appreciate your hospitality.”
“But you can’t leave,” Jenny said imperiously. “Not now.” Everyone was surprised by the intensity of her outburst and looked at her inquiringly. Embarrassed, she hastened to ask, “You took all those pictures today to go with the story of your escape, right?”
“Right,” Linc answered hesitantly.
“And I’m sure that since Kerry has declined to be interviewed, she’s going to grant you exclusive rights to the story. Right, Kerry?”
Kerry hesitated. “Uh, right.”
“Well, the story isn’t over yet,” Jenny said. “Don’t you want to photograph the children as they meet their new parents? And you can’t leave without knowing how Joe is going to fare.”
Linc considered his dilemma. Jenny was right in one respect. The story would be better if he stuck around till the end of it. He’d been on the telephone to several magazines that afternoon and was taking bids from editors who were eager to get their hands on the piece. And, by God, he was entitled to exclusive rights to it, whether Kerry had granted them freely or not.
But he didn’t think he could stay under the same roof with her for another hour. He’d either make love to her or murder her, and, for entirely different reasons, he was sorely tempted to do both. The balance was precarious. A slight tip in one direction or another and wham! He was going to cook his own goose.
“I don’t know,” he hedged. “I guess I could get a room in town and—”
“Ouch!”
Jenny’s exclamation brought all eyes around to her. She clutched her distended abdomen with both hands, cradling the precious burden it carried.
Chapter 9
“Jenny!” Cage was out of his chair like a shot. Before Linc or Kerry could even blink, he was at Jenny’s side and his hands had replaced hers on her swollen stomach. “Is it...what is it?”
She took several gasping breaths, then said, “Just one of those cramps I think.”
“You’re sure? It’s not the baby?”
“No, I don’t think so. Not yet.”
“Sit down, Jenny,” Kerry said, scooting Jenny’s chair beneath her.
“I’m fine, really,” she said, easing herself down. “I had these cramping seizures when I was pregnant with Trent.”
“And they always scared the hell out of me,” Cage said, running his fingers through his hair. “Should I call the doctor?”
Jenny raised his hand to her mouth and kissed it. “No. Don’t make a fuss. Sorry I made such a scene.” She encompassed them all in her apologetic smile.
“You did too much today and were on your feet too long,” Kerry admonished gently. “You stay right there and let us clean up the kitchen.”
Over Jenny’s mild protests, the three of them began carrying the soiled dishes into the kitchen. Cage hovered around his wife. Half an hour later Kerry assisted her upstairs.
No one said any more about Linc’s leaving. He didn’t even think about the subject himself until he stepped out onto the font porch. When Cage joined him moments later, he said, “I really should go. My being here is putting an extra burden on Jenny.”
“We wouldn’t hear of it. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you like, if you don’t mind sleeping in the single bed in Trent’s room. And I warn you, he snores.”
Linc grinned. “Believe me, anything will be a pleasant change compared to where I’ve been sleeping.” Hearing his own words, his grin faded. He remembered sleeping with only the ground for a mattress and only a vine for a blanket, holding Kerry close. The memory was bittersweet and assailed him with conflicting emotions. “Is that your ’Vette?” he asked Cage. He had to say something to divert his mind, which seemed to stay on a single track lately.
“Yeah. Want to see it?”
They left the porch and strolled across the yard toward the open garage. Inside it were parked a variety of vehicles, among them the vintage ’63 Corvette Stingray that had caught Linc’s eye. He whistled long and low.
“It’s in showroom condition. How long have you had it?”
“Several years,” Cage told him. “It was in bad shape when I bought it. I hired a guy to restore it for me. We’ll go for a spin in it tomorrow. It’ll still bury you in the seat when you get it up to fourth gear. One of my vices is driving too fast.”
Linc withdrew a package of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his borrowed shirt. He’d bummed the pack off Gary Fleming earlier in the day “Want one?” |
“I’d love one,” Cage said, but held up both hands when Linc extended the pack to him. “But I’ve sworn off. When we got together, I promised Jenny that I’d quit.”
Linc squinted at his new friend through the cigarette’s smoke. “You must have had a lot of vices.”
Cage laughed good-naturedly. “I did. Too many to count. I’ve given up most of them.” He winked suggestively. “Except screwing. Jenny and I do that a lot.”
The men laughed together. “God, that feels good,” Linc said after a moment. “I haven’t talked with a man who fluently speaks my language in over a month. Heard any good jokes lately?”
“Clean or dirty?”
“Dirty.”
While Linc smoked his cigarette, the occasional silences between them were comfortable. They didn’t have to work at being companionable because the groundwork for a new friendship had already been laid. It was based on mutual respect, a genuine liking, and perhaps recognition of each other’s maverick nature.
That’s why Linc didn’t take umbrage when Cage said, “About that fifty thousand dollars...”
“I don’t want the damn money.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Cage dropped the subject then and there. He didn’t probe for answers because Linc didn’t seem inclined to discuss the money. Cage could respect that. And Linc liked Cage better for not probing.
“You and Jenny seem very happy together.” Talking to a happily married man about his wife was a new experience for Linc, and he felt awkward about broaching the subject.
Cage, however, responded without compunction. “We are.”
“You’re lucky. I haven’t seen too many happy marriages.”
“I haven’t either. I never take ours for granted though. Jenny gave up a lot to marry me.”
“I know you gave up smoking and some hell-raising. What did she give up?”
Cage grinned wryly. “Her common sense.” They chuckled and Cage shook his head with chagrin. “Marrying her was the only way I could have her, and, well, you know how it is. We do things for a woman that we would never do otherwise.”
You’ve got that right, buddy, was Linc’s self-critical thought.
“Speaking of Jenny,” Cage said, “I’d better go inside and see how she’s feeling. Enjoy your cigarette. See you in the morning.”
“I’ll buy some clothes tomorrow. Thanks for the use of these. Thanks for everything.” They shook hands. Cage walked back toward the house and closed the screened front door behind him.
Linc finished smoking his cigarette meditatively. He liked the Hendrens tremendously. He also envied them their closeness to each other. He’d never been that close to another human being. Not to either of his parents. Not to a special friend. Not to anyone.
Cage’s and Jenny’s gentle teasing was based on affection. The love they shared for their little boy created an almost visible bond between them. By all indications, their bedsheets were kept warm with frequent and ardent activity.
Linc had intercepted numerous loving glances between them. He felt a twinge of jealousy that no one had ever looked at him with such unqualified love. In the farthest corner of his mind, he acknowledged that maybe he’d missed something.
Hell, what was he thinking about? Had a brush with death that morning turned him into a philosopher?
He had it made. He enjoyed a terrific career that involved travel and adventure. It was lucrative. It had won him acclaim. Women were easy to come by. They were drawn to him by his money, his fame, his reputation as a lover. He gave them the expensive gifts, the introductions to influential people, and the pleasure they wanted. And he was interested in only one thing from them. Once his craving for sex was satisfied, he thought no more about them.
The women in his life were bodies only. They were transitory. Women with no substance. Not like Jenny Hendren. Not like—
Uttering an impatient oath, he rubbed Kerry’s name from his mind. He also tried to eradicate her image, but was less successful at accomplishing that. He couldn’t forget the way she had looked when she came down to dinner. He hadn’t expected her to look so...womanly. He had expected a nun’s habit.
Instead, she had shown up wearing a dress that was made of some soft material that had clung temptingly to her delicate body. The skirt had whisked against her bare legs. Each time she turned, the shape of her breasts had been clearly profiled for him. Her hair had shone in the candlelight every time she moved her head. Her lips, faintly tinted with gloss, had looked as ripe and juicy as a berry ready to be plucked. And that’s all he could taste.
