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Chapter Ten
Posted by
jlk
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18 October 2012
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Eve stared at the building, trying to decide quite what it did. She’d seen little reproductions, pictures on screen, but the reality was impressive. “How does it work” she asked Mira, tilting her head.
Mira laughed. “I have no idea.” She linked her arm with Eve’s, looking up at the windmill. “I imagine one of our captors would tell us. We could ask.” She’d already suggested they begin to form careful relationships with the men on the island, but Eve wasn’t sure that was wise. After a discussion they’d decided to wait and see, take a “play it by ear” approach.
“Hmm. Well, it’s impressive,” Eve decided. She brushed her toes along the sand, making a swirl. “I’ve never spent a day on the beach with anyone but Roarke.” Her eyes searched the empty ocean. Not even a boat. The whole goddamn day and not one boat out on that big expanse of ocean. It was the same when she was on Roarke’s island. Of course then she’d felt it was a marvelous thing: no reporters, no paparazzi, no chance of unwanted eyes while he did what he wanted to her on the beach. “I guess that makes this pretty special.”
Mira laughed. “Thank you, sweetheart. Dennis and I have spent a lot of time at the beach. We used to take the children at least one week every year while they were young.” She looked back at the windmill wishing she had brought her link to snap a picture. “Do you know, Eve, you’ve done everything in your power to reassure me. You’ve been calm, easy-going, unhurried, and a hundred other words I could use. And I want to thank you for that.”
Eve glanced at her sideways, kicking at the water as it lapped her feet, the tide beginning to come in. “But?”
“But, you’ve had two days to work out an escape plan, and you haven’t.” Mira sat down on the sand, far enough back from the waves not to worry about the encroaching blue waters.
Eve sighed, went and sat down beside her. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve failed you. Don’t say I haven’t, because it’s a simple matter of how I feel,” she ordered as Mira began to protest, but without heat. “About the only way I can get us out of here is to build a raft. If Roarke was here, he’d have a full size power boat already working, but I’m not quite so handy.”
Mira put her arm around Eve’s waist. She smiled when Eve hesitantly did the same. “You miss him very much, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. “I know I miss Dennis, our children. And the grandchildren.”
Eve stood up, aware of the approaching visitors long before Mira. “I don’t suppose you can fly a helicopter?” She started them back toward the villa, their exclusive prison.
“No. Why?” Then she heard it, turned to see it approaching from the West as the sun began its slide toward the ocean. “Roarke must own twenty of them. He never taught you?”
“Mira, I wreck a vehicle at least once a month. Would you want me in a aircraft that’s over some innocent playground full of kids?” Eve’s question was wry. The helicopter was landing north of the villa. Mira had told her about the drive up the through the island and up the slight hill they had taken two days ago. It wouldn’t matter where the helipad was if neither of them could use the helicopter. If it had just been her, Eve would have dove into the ocean and made a swim south, kept going until she drown or they found her and dragged her back … or a shark ate her.
But Mira was with her. And while Mira was fit, she wasn’t capable of that kind of effort. Besides, the sharks might like her better. Eve’s lips quirked. She missed Peabody’s snarky humor.
The villa was in action, eight men and the dubious General Silva. Eve moved to a rattan sofa, an antique perhaps a hundred years old, and sat down. She’d returned to consciousness a half hour after Mira had gotten the IV fluids into her, but since then she’d been doing her best to develop an escape plan. She had learned this past month since the sun spots to conserve her strength to some extent. So now, Eve sat down. Mira sat beside her.
The man didn’t lose time. “I’m pleased to see you both doing well.” He wasn’t taking time to sit down, use social niceties. A man with a job who is very busy. “You’ll be here for the next ten days. Then you’ll be moving to your primary site. Dr. Mira, I have information you will need to be familiar in. I want to assure you that at the end of this assignment, you will be returned to your husband, safe and whole. Lieutenant Dallas, I understand you have experienced physical strain, which is unfortunate. I am told you will need both your mental and physical strength for your assignment. I suggest you use the next ten days to prepare.”
Eve considered her possible responses, aware that Mira expected her to take the lead. “I would prefer Dr. Mira be returned to her husband first. She could show me what you need her to do.”
He had expected something from her. “No.” He said something, the men began to head out the front doors. “I will see you in ten days.” And he turned and left.
Eve sat on the couch, watching him go. “At least he’s promised we get home safe and sound,” she reassured Mira, squeezing her hand. Silva had said Mira would go home, not her. No reason to point that fact out to Mira.
Mira tried to look relieved. “And we have ten days to prepare.” She looked on as the men piled clear container boxes of papers on a table inside the doors. “And we have plenty of reading to do.”
Eve looked at her wrist link. It was still being jammed. “Ten days.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Roarke sat in the office of the Greek penthouse he’d had readied for their arrival, looking out at the ocean. He’d have maintenance turn the desk around as soon as he’d settled himself. There was no reason to be looking anywhere but in until Eve was safely in his arms. Eve. He tried to close the door in his mind, but it wouldn’t, some part of him needing to see her, feel her, for just a minute. From the first second he had seen her across the church during the funeral of his friends’ child, his life had been changed. As surely as the moon chased the sun he had been unable to stop himself from wanting her. And once the wanting had opened his senses to her, love had followed. This overwhelming, all consuming, necessary love for the being that was his Eve.
There were still times now, moments when he was furious that she had enchained him this way, fought with all his will to be released of the emotions holding him back from freedom. Roarke sighed. It was a freedom that held no appeal now. If he could not claim her, he had no desire to return to his previous life. She’d changed him without once asking him to change.
“Roarke.” Peabody had shooed the others back out when it was obvious he hadn’t heard them as they stood in the office, uneasy with his stillness, sitting motionless at the large desk, staring out the windows. She had grown up as a Free-Ager, they were much more open about their emotions, the sharing of those emotions. And it didn’t take an empath to feel her partner’s husband’s pain. But it was compassion that drove her to him now. She moved between him and the window, blocking his view of the beauty that was Greece. “We’ll find them. She knows we’re looking and she’ll hold on, keep Mira and herself safe.” Safe as possible.
“I know, Delia.”
The use of her first name, said with that Irish lilt that had once made her almost swoon and now made her think only fondly, with just a touch of swoon, of him, was her undoing. Face tightening, breath catching, Peabody could feel herself on the edge. She knew it was what Roarke needed; unable to let go of the emotions he felt at his wife’s danger, he needed to feel them through her. “I miss her driving. It scares the shit out of me,” she whispered. Then the tears came.
He stood and wrapped her in his arms, eyes fixed on the ocean as he offered his comfort, strength. And here, just the two of them, he admitted to her what he could never say out loud to another soul. “It scares the shit out of me, too.”
Mira laughed. “I have no idea.” She linked her arm with Eve’s, looking up at the windmill. “I imagine one of our captors would tell us. We could ask.” She’d already suggested they begin to form careful relationships with the men on the island, but Eve wasn’t sure that was wise. After a discussion they’d decided to wait and see, take a “play it by ear” approach.
“Hmm. Well, it’s impressive,” Eve decided. She brushed her toes along the sand, making a swirl. “I’ve never spent a day on the beach with anyone but Roarke.” Her eyes searched the empty ocean. Not even a boat. The whole goddamn day and not one boat out on that big expanse of ocean. It was the same when she was on Roarke’s island. Of course then she’d felt it was a marvelous thing: no reporters, no paparazzi, no chance of unwanted eyes while he did what he wanted to her on the beach. “I guess that makes this pretty special.”
Mira laughed. “Thank you, sweetheart. Dennis and I have spent a lot of time at the beach. We used to take the children at least one week every year while they were young.” She looked back at the windmill wishing she had brought her link to snap a picture. “Do you know, Eve, you’ve done everything in your power to reassure me. You’ve been calm, easy-going, unhurried, and a hundred other words I could use. And I want to thank you for that.”
Eve glanced at her sideways, kicking at the water as it lapped her feet, the tide beginning to come in. “But?”
“But, you’ve had two days to work out an escape plan, and you haven’t.” Mira sat down on the sand, far enough back from the waves not to worry about the encroaching blue waters.
Eve sighed, went and sat down beside her. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve failed you. Don’t say I haven’t, because it’s a simple matter of how I feel,” she ordered as Mira began to protest, but without heat. “About the only way I can get us out of here is to build a raft. If Roarke was here, he’d have a full size power boat already working, but I’m not quite so handy.”
Mira put her arm around Eve’s waist. She smiled when Eve hesitantly did the same. “You miss him very much, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. “I know I miss Dennis, our children. And the grandchildren.”
Eve stood up, aware of the approaching visitors long before Mira. “I don’t suppose you can fly a helicopter?” She started them back toward the villa, their exclusive prison.
“No. Why?” Then she heard it, turned to see it approaching from the West as the sun began its slide toward the ocean. “Roarke must own twenty of them. He never taught you?”
“Mira, I wreck a vehicle at least once a month. Would you want me in a aircraft that’s over some innocent playground full of kids?” Eve’s question was wry. The helicopter was landing north of the villa. Mira had told her about the drive up the through the island and up the slight hill they had taken two days ago. It wouldn’t matter where the helipad was if neither of them could use the helicopter. If it had just been her, Eve would have dove into the ocean and made a swim south, kept going until she drown or they found her and dragged her back … or a shark ate her.
But Mira was with her. And while Mira was fit, she wasn’t capable of that kind of effort. Besides, the sharks might like her better. Eve’s lips quirked. She missed Peabody’s snarky humor.
The villa was in action, eight men and the dubious General Silva. Eve moved to a rattan sofa, an antique perhaps a hundred years old, and sat down. She’d returned to consciousness a half hour after Mira had gotten the IV fluids into her, but since then she’d been doing her best to develop an escape plan. She had learned this past month since the sun spots to conserve her strength to some extent. So now, Eve sat down. Mira sat beside her.
The man didn’t lose time. “I’m pleased to see you both doing well.” He wasn’t taking time to sit down, use social niceties. A man with a job who is very busy. “You’ll be here for the next ten days. Then you’ll be moving to your primary site. Dr. Mira, I have information you will need to be familiar in. I want to assure you that at the end of this assignment, you will be returned to your husband, safe and whole. Lieutenant Dallas, I understand you have experienced physical strain, which is unfortunate. I am told you will need both your mental and physical strength for your assignment. I suggest you use the next ten days to prepare.”
Eve considered her possible responses, aware that Mira expected her to take the lead. “I would prefer Dr. Mira be returned to her husband first. She could show me what you need her to do.”
He had expected something from her. “No.” He said something, the men began to head out the front doors. “I will see you in ten days.” And he turned and left.
Eve sat on the couch, watching him go. “At least he’s promised we get home safe and sound,” she reassured Mira, squeezing her hand. Silva had said Mira would go home, not her. No reason to point that fact out to Mira.
Mira tried to look relieved. “And we have ten days to prepare.” She looked on as the men piled clear container boxes of papers on a table inside the doors. “And we have plenty of reading to do.”
Eve looked at her wrist link. It was still being jammed. “Ten days.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Roarke sat in the office of the Greek penthouse he’d had readied for their arrival, looking out at the ocean. He’d have maintenance turn the desk around as soon as he’d settled himself. There was no reason to be looking anywhere but in until Eve was safely in his arms. Eve. He tried to close the door in his mind, but it wouldn’t, some part of him needing to see her, feel her, for just a minute. From the first second he had seen her across the church during the funeral of his friends’ child, his life had been changed. As surely as the moon chased the sun he had been unable to stop himself from wanting her. And once the wanting had opened his senses to her, love had followed. This overwhelming, all consuming, necessary love for the being that was his Eve.
There were still times now, moments when he was furious that she had enchained him this way, fought with all his will to be released of the emotions holding him back from freedom. Roarke sighed. It was a freedom that held no appeal now. If he could not claim her, he had no desire to return to his previous life. She’d changed him without once asking him to change.
“Roarke.” Peabody had shooed the others back out when it was obvious he hadn’t heard them as they stood in the office, uneasy with his stillness, sitting motionless at the large desk, staring out the windows. She had grown up as a Free-Ager, they were much more open about their emotions, the sharing of those emotions. And it didn’t take an empath to feel her partner’s husband’s pain. But it was compassion that drove her to him now. She moved between him and the window, blocking his view of the beauty that was Greece. “We’ll find them. She knows we’re looking and she’ll hold on, keep Mira and herself safe.” Safe as possible.
“I know, Delia.”
The use of her first name, said with that Irish lilt that had once made her almost swoon and now made her think only fondly, with just a touch of swoon, of him, was her undoing. Face tightening, breath catching, Peabody could feel herself on the edge. She knew it was what Roarke needed; unable to let go of the emotions he felt at his wife’s danger, he needed to feel them through her. “I miss her driving. It scares the shit out of me,” she whispered. Then the tears came.
He stood and wrapped her in his arms, eyes fixed on the ocean as he offered his comfort, strength. And here, just the two of them, he admitted to her what he could never say out loud to another soul. “It scares the shit out of me, too.”
