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On her way to the door she caught sight of herself in the piece of broken mirror which hung from a hook on the wall. Once more her hand went involuntarily to her shorn head as she experienced a pang of real pain at the loss.
Her hair, dark and glossy as a raven’s wing, had been cut in a sleek chin-length bob when she’d arrived here, but Mama Rita had ordered it to be chopped off to make more room for the wig. Lina had been given the scissors and had enjoyed her task, while the others laughed and jeered.
I’m barely recognisable, she thought.
But maybe that would be an advantage when the time came to continue her journey—alone.
Think positive, she adjured herself.
After all, that was what she had to aim for—to focus on—to the exclusion of everything else. Taking charge of her own destiny once more.
What had happened with Ramon was a glitch, but no more than that. And she would make damned sure that no other man ever made a fool of her again. Including Sir Galahad downstairs.
Him, perhaps, most of all.
She extinguished the light and went quietly down the rickety steps.
She was halfway along the passage to Mama Rita’s room when Manuel came round the corner.
Chellie checked instantly at the sight of him, and he stopped too, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
’Hola, chica,’ he said. ‘What you doing, huh?’
From some undiscovered depth Chellie found the strength to smile at him. ‘I thought I’d go down to the bar for a drink.’
‘Where’s that hombre who hired you?’ He was frowning.
‘Asleep.’ Chellie gave him a long, meaningful look from under her lashes. ‘And not much fun any more.’
He looked her over. ‘Why you in those clothes? And where your wig? You supposed to be blonde.’
‘My dress got torn.’ She shrugged casually. ‘And that wig is so hot. Surely I don’t need it just to buy a beer?’
A slow, unpleasant grin curled his mouth. ‘I have beer in my room, chica. You want more fun? You have it with me.’
‘No.’ Chellie took a step backwards, her hand closing on the strap of her bag in an unconsciously defensive gesture.
He noticed at once, his gaze speculative. ‘What you got there, hija?’
‘Nothing,’ she denied, lifting her chin. ‘And I’m going to have my drink in the bar—without company.’
For a moment he stared at her, then, to her astonishment, she saw him nod in apparent agreement. It was only when he slid to his knees, eyes glazing, then measured his length completely on the wooden floor that she realised who was standing behind him, grasping one of Mama Rita’s wooden candlesticks and looking down at his victim with grim pleasure.
She said shakily, ‘My God—is he dead?’
‘Not him.’ Ash stirred the recumbent body with a contemptuous foot. ‘I knew what I was doing. He’ll have a bad headache when he wakes up, that’s all.’
‘All?’ Her laugh cracked in the middle. ‘Breaking and entering, and now GBH. What next, I wonder?’
‘Well, I can’t speak for you.’ He went down on one knee, and rifled through the unconscious man’s pockets, producing his keyring with a grunt of satisfaction. ‘But I plan to get out of here before he’s missed.’ He got to his feet, his glance challenging. ‘I have your passport, so are you coming with me? Or would you rather stay here and accept his next invitation? It may not be as cordial as the last,’ he added drily. ‘But perhaps you don’t care.’
Not just the rock and the hard place, Chellie thought. This was the devil and the deep blue sea, and she was caught between them, as trapped as she’d always been.
And, it seemed, she had to choose the devil …
For now, she told herself, but not for ever. That was the thought she had to cling to. The resolution she had to make.
She felt a small quiver of fear, mixed with a strange excitement, uncurl in the pit of her stomach as she looked back at him, meeting the blue ice of his gaze.
She said lightly, ‘What are we waiting for, Galahad? Let’s go.’
CHAPTER THREE (#u4387c566-248c-565c-80e9-55da09967dbc)
THE air outside was warm and so thick she could almost chew it, but Chellie drew it into her lungs as if it was pure oxygen.
She thought, I’m free. And that’s the way I’m going to stay. For a moment, she felt tears of sheer relief prick at her eyes, but she fought them back. Because there was no time to cry. Instead she had to make good her escape. Or the first part of it, anyway.
Getting out of the club had been just as nerve-racking as everything that had gone before it. They had dragged Manuel, who had already begun to stir and mutter incoherently, into the office and locked him there with his own keys.
The way to the back door led past the girls’ dressing room, so they’d had to waste precious seconds waiting for the coast to be clear. He’d gone first, to unlock the rear door, and had slipped past unseen. But when it had been Chellie’s turn she’d found herself catching Jacinta’s startled gaze.
She’d made herself smile, and even give a little wave, as if she didn’t have a care in the world, but there was no certainty that the other girl wouldn’t mention what she’d seen once Chellie’s absence had been discovered. In fact, she might not be given a choice, Chellie told herself with a pang.
However, she needed to put space between Mama Rita’s and herself and waste no time about it, she thought, breaking into a run.
‘Take it easy.’ The command was low-voiced but crisp, and her companion’s hand clamped her wrist, bringing her to a breathless halt.
‘What are you doing? We need to get out of here. They’ll be coming after us …’
‘Probably,’ he returned. ‘So the last thing we want is to draw attention to ourselves. If we run in this heat, we’ll be remembered. If we walk, we’re just another anonymous couple among hundreds of others. So slow down and try and look as if you want to be with me. And for God’s sake stop peering back over your shoulder. Your whole body language is shouting “They’re after me”,’ he added, his tone faintly caustic.
‘Oh, please excuse me,’ Chellie hit back, heavily sarcastic. ‘But the role of fugitive is still rather new to me.’
‘Just as well,’ he returned, unmoved. ‘Hopefully you won’t have to play it for long.’
He released his grip on her wrist and clasped her fingers instead, drawing her closer to him, adapting his long stride to her shorter pace. Making it seem, she realised unwillingly, as if they were indeed a pair of lovers with the rest of the night to spend together.
On balance, Chellie thought she preferred a bruised wrist to this implied intimacy. The touch of his hand, the brush of his bare arm against hers was sending a tantalising ripple of awareness through her senses, which, frankly, she didn’t need or understand.
Life had taught her to be wary of strangers—to maintain her cool in unfamiliar situations. After all, it had taken a long time for Ramon to get under her guard, until, unluckily, she’d taken his persistence for devotion rather than greed.
But now she’d been thrown into the company of this stranger. Condemned, it seemed, to endure the proximity of a man who had no apparent compunction about committing burglary or hitting over the head anyone who got in his way. And knowing it had been done for her benefit hardly seemed an adequate excuse.
Someone who’d just walked in off the street and apparently felt sufficient compassion to take up her cause, she thought uneasily. And, on the face of it, how likely was that?
Sure, he’d offered her a way out, and she’d taken it. Yet she was risking a hell of a lot to accept his help, and she knew it. Which made her undeniable physical reaction to him all the more inexplicable. But if she was honest she’d been conscious of it—of him—since that first moment in the club when their eyes had met. And she’d found herself unable to look away.
When she was a small child, someone had warned her about wishing for things, in case her wish was granted in a way she did not expect. And Nanny had been quite right, she thought ruefully.
Because only a couple of hours ago Chellie had sung about wanting ‘someone to watch over her’, and that was precisely what she’d got. And every instinct was warning her that, among so many others, this could be her worst mistake so far.
The sooner I get away from him, the better, she thought, her throat muscles tightening. But that’s not going to be so easy. Because I seem to have passed seamlessly from Mama Rita’s clutches into his.
Oh, God, how could I have been such a fool? And is it too late to redress the situation somehow?
She drew a breath. ‘What did you do with Manuel’s keys?’
‘Threw them into an open drain.’
‘Oh.’ She moistened dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘That’s—good.’
‘I thought so,’ he returned with a touch of dryness.
She looked down at the cobbles. ‘This boat we’re leaving on—where is it exactly?’
‘It’s moored at the marina,’ he said.
‘Isn’t that the first place they’ll look?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘Because they have no reason to connect me with boats.’
‘You don’t seem very concerned.’
‘And you’re tying yourself into knots over possibilities,’ he retorted.
Chellie subsided into silence again, biting her lip. Then she said, ‘My passport—you did find it?’
He sighed. ‘I told you so.’
‘Then—could I have it, please?’
He gave her a swift sideways glance. ‘Thinking of making an independent bid for freedom, songbird?’ He shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t get half a mile.’
Knowing he was right did nothing to improve her temper. Or alleviate the feeling that she was cornered.
‘Besides,’ he went on, ‘like Mama Rita, I feel I need something to guarantee your good behaviour.’
She gasped. ‘Are you saying you don’t trust me?’ she demanded huskily.
‘Not as far as I could throw you with one hand, sweetheart.’ He paused. ‘Any more than you trust me.’ He slanted a grin at her. ‘Grind your teeth if you like, but I’m still your best bet for getting out of here unscathed, and you know it. And what’s a little mutual suspicion between friends?’
‘I,’ Chellie stated with cool clarity, ‘am not your friend.’
He shrugged again. ‘Well, my Christmas card list is full anyway.’
‘However,’ she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘I’d still like my passport back.’ She paused. ‘Please.’
‘My God,’ he said softly. ‘The authentic note of the autocrat. That didn’t take long to emerge. From downtrodden victim to “she who must be obeyed” in one easy step.’ His voice hardened. ‘And what am I supposed to do now, darling? Turn pale and grovel? You should have tried it with Manuel. He’d have been most impressed.’
‘How dare you.’ Her voice shook.
They had stopped walking. Suddenly Chellie found herself being propelled across the quayside and into the shadows between two wooden buildings, where he faced her, his eyes glittering, his hands gripping her shoulders, immobilising her completely. Making her look back at him.
‘Oh, I dare quite easily,’ he said. ‘Because someone should have stopped you in your tracks a long time ago. And then perhaps you wouldn’t need me to get you out of this mess now.’
‘I don’t need you,’ Chellie flung back at him recklessly. ‘There’ll be other boats. I can find a passage out of here without your questionable assistance.’
‘Yes,’ he said, grimly. ‘But probably not tonight. And that’s only one of your problems. Because how long can you afford to wait? How long before word gets round that a girl with eyes like a cat and a bad haircut is trying to leave port and Mama Rita tracks you down?’
He paused. ‘And there’s the small question of cost,’ he went on remorselessly. ‘You’ve no real cash, so are you really prepared to pay the alternative price you might be charged? If so, you could find it a very long voyage.’
‘You’re vile.’ She choked out the words.
‘I’m a realist,’ he returned implacably. ‘Whereas you …’ He gave a derisive laugh. ‘In spite of everything that’s happened, you still haven’t learned a bloody thing, have you, sweetheart?’
She said in a stifled voice, ‘Please—please let go of me.’
‘Afraid I might want to teach you a valuable lesson?’ He shook his head derisively. ‘Not a chance, sweetheart. You’re not my type.’
But he made no attempt to release her, and Chellie, trapped between the hard male warmth of his body and the wall of rough planking behind her, felt herself begin to tremble inside.
Suddenly the world had shrunk to this dark corner, and the paler oval of his face looking down at her. The sheer physical nearness of him.
She was dimly aware of other things too. Men’s voices shouting angrily and the loud blare of a vehicle horn. But all that seemed to be happening in another world—another universe that had no relevance to her or the quiver of need that was growing and intensifying within her.
She saw his head turn sharply, heard him swear quietly and succinctly under his breath, then, before she could even contemplate resistance, he swooped down on her, and for one startled, breathless moment her mouth was crushed under his.
But not in anything that could be recognised as a kiss. That was the real shock of it all. Because the tight-lipped pressure of his mouth on hers was simply that—physical contact without an atom of desire or sensuality.
A harsh, untender parody of a caress.
And one that was over almost as soon as it had begun.
Chellie leaned back against the wall, her legs barely able to support
her, looking up at him, trying and failing to read his face.
She said in a voice she barely recognised, ‘What was—that about?’
He said, ‘That was Manuel in a Jeep, with another guy driving him.’ He paused. ‘Bald, built like a bull. Do you know him?’
‘Rico. He’s a bouncer at the club.’ Chellie spoke numbly, trying to drag together the remnants of her composure without success. ‘Did they see us?’
‘I think they might have stopped if so,’ he said drily. ‘Besides, I made sure you were well hidden.’
