The Bedroom Barter

‘Laurent?’

‘The other crew member. Great bloke, but not gifted in the galley.’ He paused. ‘Well?’

No, she thought, that’s not the word at all. ‘Dangerous’ comes to mind. But so does ‘tempting’ at the same time.

She said slowly, ‘I—I don’t understand. Why should you want to help me? We’re total strangers to each other.’

‘We share a nationality,’ he said. ‘We’re both a long way from home. And one look tonight told me you were in deep trouble. I thought maybe you might need a helping hand.’

She stared at him. ‘Your name isn’t Galahad, by any chance?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Any more than yours is Micaela.’

Chellie bit her lip, once again at a loss. ‘I’m still not sure about this …’ she began.

He gave a quick, impatient sigh. ‘Understand this, darling.’ His tone bit. ‘I’m not about to force you on board La Belle Rêve. And I’m not going to beg you on my knees either. It all depends on how badly you want to get out of your current situation. But I’m sailing tonight, whether you’re with me or not.’

He paused. ‘So—no more discussion. We’re wasting valuable time. I’m the rock. This is the hard place. You have to make the decision, and make it now.’

‘And when we get to St Hilaire?’ she asked jerkily. ‘What then?’

‘There’ll be other choices to consider,’ he said. ‘There always are.’

‘You forget,’ Chellie said. ‘I still have no passport, which reduces my options to zero. Unless, of course, St Hilaire has openings for singers,’ she added wryly.

He was silent for a moment. ‘You say Mama Rita took it from you. Do you know where she keeps it?’

‘In her desk—locked in the top right-hand drawer. She showed it to me once.’ Chellie bit her lip. ‘To convince me she still had it, and therefore still had me. Playing cat and mouse.’

‘And the key to her desk? Where’s that?’

Chellie grimaced. ‘On a long chain round her neck.’

He shuddered. ‘Which is where it can definitely remain.’ He paused, frowning. ‘Where will Mama Rita be now?’

‘Down in the club. She’ll come up at the end of the night to count the takings, but that’s usually the only time. She considers she’s one of the features of the place. That people come just to see her.’

‘Well,’ he said softly, ‘she could be right. After all, something brought me here this evening. So let’s hope that her ego keeps her right there in front of her admiring public.’

‘Why? What are you going to do?’ she asked.

‘Break into that desk, of course.’ His tone was almost casual.

Her jaw dropped. ‘Are you crazy?’

‘Well, we can hardly take the damned thing with us. People might notice.’ He gave her a dispassionate look. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t tried to get into it yourself.’

His faint note of criticism needled her. ‘Because I wouldn’t know how,’ she said tautly. ‘Unlike you, it seems.’

‘Merely one of the skills I’ve acquired along the way.’ He shrugged, apparently unfazed. ‘For which you should be grateful.’ He gave her a questioning look. ‘I hope there’s a back way out of here?’

‘Yes, but that’s always locked too, and Manuel has the key.’

‘Well, that shouldn’t be a serious problem.’ He got to his feet, and Chellie rose too.

She said breathlessly, ‘You don’t know him. He’s always hanging round—and he has a knife.’

‘I’m sure he has,’ he returned with indifference. ‘I thought when I saw him that serving drinks couldn’t be the entire sum of his talents.’

She said in a low voice, ‘It’s not funny. He’s really dangerous—worse than Mama Rita.’

He said softly, ‘But I could be dangerous too, songbird.’ He paused. ‘And don’t say that hasn’t already crossed your mind.’

She stared at him, the silence between them crackling like electricity. He knew how to break open a desk, she thought, and he wasn’t scared of knives. Just who was this man—and how soon would she be able to get away from him? And, most of all, how much was it going to cost her? Her throat closed.

She said huskily, ‘Perhaps you just seem—the lesser of two evils.’

‘Thank you,’ he said, his mouth twisting. ‘I think. Is Mama Rita’s office on this floor, by any chance?’

She nodded. ‘Just along the passage. You—you want me to show you?’

‘It could save time,’ he said. ‘Also it might stop me intruding on anyone else’s intimate moments. I presume this isn’t the only private room?’

‘No,’ Chellie said. ‘But this is reckoned to be the best one. It must have cost you plenty to hire it.’

‘Well, don’t worry about it,’ he said. ‘I expect to get my money’s worth in due course.’ He looked into her startled eyes and grinned. ‘All that home cooking,’ he explained softly.

He kicked the blonde wig out of sight under the sofa. ‘You won’t need that again.’ He looked her over. ‘Do you have other clothes? Because you could change into them while I’m breaking and entering.’

‘I haven’t very much.’ It was humiliating to have to make the admission.

‘Then grab a coat from somewhere,’ he said. ‘We need to make an unobtrusive exit, and you’re far too spectacular like that.’

As Chellie went to the door she was crossly aware that her face had warmed.

The passage outside was thankfully deserted, but there was a lot of noise drifting up from the floor below—music with a strident beat, and male voices laughing and cheering.

He said softly, ‘Let the good times roll—at least until we’re out of here.’

The door of Mama Rita’s office was slightly ajar, and the desk lamp was lit although the room was empty. Apart from the desk there was little other furniture, and most of that, he saw, was junk, with the exception of a nice pair of ornately carved wooden candlesticks standing on a chest against the wall. The air was stale with some cheap incense, and he grimaced faintly.

He said, ‘She doesn’t seem to worry about being robbed.’

‘She doesn’t think anyone would dare. Besides, she has a safe for the money.’ Chellie pointed to the desk. ‘That’s the drawer.’

‘Then I suggest you leave me to it while you go and change. I’ll see you back here in a couple of minutes. And bring the stuff you have on with you,’ he added. ‘If they believe you’re still somewhere on the premises, it will give us extra minutes.’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Chellie hesitated. ‘Be—be careful.’ Her tone was stilted.

He said softly, ‘Why, darling, I didn’t know you cared.’

‘I don’t,’ she said with a snap. ‘You’re my way out of here, that’s all. So I don’t want anything to go wrong.’

He grinned at her. ‘You’re all heart.’

She looked back at him icily. ‘You said it yourself. The rock and the hard place. That’s the choice, but I don’t have to like it.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m not that keen myself, but there’s no time to debate the situation now. We’ll talk once the boat has sailed.’

Biting her lip, Chellie left him to it.

Once alone, Ash crossed to the door and listened for a moment before pushing it almost shut. Then he went back to the desk, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt and extracting the flat pouch he had taped to his waist. He chose one of the skeleton keys it contained and opened the drawer that Chellie had indicated.

Inside, lying on the untidy jumble of papers, was a large-bladed knife, businesslike and menacing at the same time.

Ash’s lips pursed in a silent whistle. ‘Songbird,’ he said softly, ‘I think you may have underestimated Mama Rita.’

There were several passports in the drawer but only one with the distinctive maroon cover. He opened it, swiftly checking the details with a nod of satisfaction.

So far, so good, he told himself.

He gave the photograph a cursory glance, then paused, studying it more closely. The girl in the picture looked back at him, a faint, almost defiant smile playing about the corners of her mouth, the green eyes cool and candid. And totally unafraid.

His mouth curled cynically. ‘But that was then, darling,’ he told the photograph. ‘How things can change.’

He closed the passport, slipping it into his back pocket, then replaced his keys in their pouch, retaping it to his skin.

He took the knife and used it to force open the other drawers in the desk, scattering their contents all over the floor to give the impression of opportunist theft. Then he closed the top drawer and forced that too, using the tip of the knife to damage the lock.

He felt brief sympathy for the other girls whose passports had been stolen and held against their good behaviour, but there was nothing he could do about that.

Besides, none of them were rich men’s daughters.

Only you, songbird, he thought. And you’re coming with me, whether you like it or not.

Chellie’s heart was racing as she went up to her room, and she made herself breathe deeply and evenly, trying to calm down and be sensible. As she opened the door she braced herself against the usual scuttling noises, her skin crawling with revulsion.

At least on the boat she’d be spared that particular nightmare, she thought, switching on the naked lightbulb which dangled from the ceiling. But vulnerable to plenty of others in its place, an unwanted voice in her head reminded her.

She knew nothing about her rescuer—not even his name. There was no guarantee that he’d keep any of his side of the bargain. In fact, by trusting him even marginally, she could find herself in a far worse mess.

He looked tough enough, she admitted unwillingly. His body was lean and muscular, with wide shoulders and a strong chest. But then the life he’d chosen—delivering other people’s boats, with some petty thieving on the side—was a pretty chancy existence.

Under normal circumstances he was the last man in the world she would ever have turned to for help.

But she couldn’t let herself worry about that now. Desperate situations required desperate measures, and she had to get away from this place, whatever the means.

Once I’m out of here, and I have my passport back, I can think again, she told herself with a touch of grimness.

It was amazing the effect that even a whisper of hope could have. After these weeks of fear she was beginning to feel a resurgence of her old spirit. The conviction that her life belonged to her again, and she was back in control.

Swiftly, she stripped off what little she was wearing and put on the underwear—white cotton bra and pants—she’d washed earlier in the day. They still felt damp, but that couldn’t be helped. She dragged her one and only tee shirt over her head, and pulled on a brief denim skirt. She stowed the black dress and G string in her canvas shoulder bag, along with her few toiletries and what little money she had left.

Then she took her sandals from the cupboard, banging them together

to dislodge any lurking cockroaches, and slipped them on to her feet.

‘Ready to go,’ she said, half under her breath.

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

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.