Gentle Pirate (19 page)

"Simon, why won't you tell me?" she begged, lowering her tone humbly. "If it's anything to do with Jim Talbot, it's more my business than anyone else's!" She clutched the pillow protectively in front of herself.

Simon's face softened and she knew she was close to victory. Maybe she'd found the secret of handling Simon after all! Somehow, that was almost more important to her than satisfying her curiosity.

"I know you ought to have a full explanation, but it's a long story, Kirsten," he said gently, coming close and wrapping his hand around her neck in his usual method of ensuring her attention. "I don't know all of it, myself. It will only upset you if I go through it tonight, honey." The thumb moved around to massage the corner of her mouth in a sensuous manner. But she was determined not to be sidetracked.

"It will upset me a great deal more if you don't give me some idea of what is happening," she told him.

"All right," he said at last. "I'd prefer you trusted me a little longer, though." He watched her hopefully but she wasn't to be swayed at this juncture.

"This isn't a question of trust," Kirsten asserted pointedly. "This is a matter of satisfying my curiosity before I go crazy!"

He sighed. "The long and the short of it is I think your husband was running something-guns, dope, you name it. And I think Phil Hagood was in on it with him."

Without a word Kirsten sank down onto the wide bed, thoroughly 'shocked. "I don't believe it," she whispered, staring at the baseboard along the wall.

"Kirsten, I told you it would be upsetting," Simon began painfully.

"No, no. It explains so much!" she said in awe. "The absences, the way he closed me out of everything. But I don't understand how or why…"

"The why is easy. It's a very lucrative profession. The how is a bit more complicated. I think he got started in 'Nam and he and Phil continued the partnership when they returned to the States."

"But I thought that sort of thing was totally in the hands of the big crime organizations…" Kirsten said slowly, finally able to tear her gaze away from the fascination of the painted baseboard.

"There's always room for small operators as long as they don't get in the way of the big boys. Talbot and Hagood were probably smart enough to stay small. Rich thinks they were dealing with small, independent groups. They'd learned enough in Southeast Asia to continue the profession after they got back to the States."

"But how did you guess all this?" Kirsten demanded, confused. "You didn't know anything about Jim and all you ever saw of his were the decoration and that old lighter."

"Those meant nothing to me immediately. But the name Hagood in Talbot's letter rang a bell. After I'd had a chance to think about it for a while, I called Rich…"

"Who is this Rich, anyway?" she interrupted.

Simon came over and sat down beside her, putting a considerable sag into the rented bed. "Rich Montgomery is an old friend of mine. We were together in…"

"Let me guess," Kirsten smiled ruefully. "In Southeast Asia?"

Simon nodded, ignoring her tone. "After I caught it and was sent home, Rich stayed on and became involved in some dope investigations. Drugs were a big part of the scene over there, Kirsten. All the armed services had groups dedicated to controlling it. Hopeless task for the most part, but Rich did a good job. Afterward, he went with a government agency…"

"He's a federal narcotics agent now?"

Simon shook his head negatively. "No. Another branch. He had shown a talent for undercover work and…"

"A spy!" Kirsten exclaimed, delighted.

One red-brown brow lifted warningly. "Am I going to be allowed to finish this tale or not?"

"Go on! What did the name Hagood mean to you and Rich?"

"Being a Marine, Rich used to get particularly upset when his early dope investigations uncovered…"

"Brothers of the Corps?" Kirsten suggested dryly.

"If you want to give it a melodramatic sound, yes," said Simon. "We've kept in touch over the years and on several occasions Rich mentioned the names of some individuals he was certain were running the stuff. He thought I might hear something from time to time. I didn't recall him ever mentioning Talbot, but I was fairly certain I'd heard the name Hagood from him. That note of Talbot's telling you to give the lighter and Heart to Hagood so he'd have something to remember started me worrying. I phoned Rich, who verified the name as someone he'd been unable to pin down during the war. He'd lost track of Hagood, having bigger fish to fry, but when I called out of the blue and started asking questions he got interested in a hurry."

"Which one of you decided the shoebox things were important?" she asked curiously, trying to take it all in.

"It was Rich's idea to investigate the contents more thoroughly. He sent someone over to pick them up on Tuesday. I'm the one who thought it might be interesting to replace them with substitutes to see if anyone would take the bait," Simon said with all due modesty.

"Obviously a stroke of genius," she told him admiringly. "You must have thought the vandalism of my apartment was more than just the work of some hoodlums?"

"After recognizing Hagood's name, I thought it likely. But I also thought that, having searched and failed to find anything, they'd leave you alone for a time. It was a whim on my part to make the substitutions. I thought if anyone came nosing around asking questions I'd let him know I had the box. Sure enough, Hagood showed up yesterday. While you were in the bedroom I let him know I had a couple of items of his dead buddy's. I told him I intended to contact Washington for some names of next of kin of Talbot's since you weren't interested in keeping them. Not because I cared a damn about the man personally, of course, but because he had been a Marine."

"An attitude Hagood could understand?"

"Ummm. Having dropped the bait, I got us out of the area so Hagood would have his chance. And he must have taken it because the box was empty when we got home tonight, as you saw." Simon pulled her against his right side, holding her tightly. "Does it bother you terribly, knowing Talbot was into something like this?" he asked quietly, and for the first time Kirsten understood his reluctance to tell her the whole story. He had been trying to protect her.

"Talbot was, as you informed Phil, a bastard. I could care less about the honor of his memory. I only hope your friend Montgomery gets things cleaned up quickly so we don't have to worry about Hagood or some associate jumping out at us from the tumbleweeds!" she announced with much feeling.

"Rich is good. He'll take care of matters. I forgot to ask him whether or not the lab had uncovered anything in the lighter or on the Heart," Simon mused, regreIfully.

"It sounded as if your friend may have had other things on his mind tonight," Kirsten put in matter-of-factly.

"Ummm. The same sorts of things I have on mine, perhaps," Simon suggested lazily, hauling her closer.

"Nothing doing, Simon Kendrick! You've said, yourself, you aren't going to sleep with me yet, so I'm going home to my own bed!" Kirsten informed him roundly and then, seeing the determined glint in the hazel eyes, added pleadingly, "Simon, I have to have some time by myself to think. Everything's gone by in a haze these past few days. Please, let me have some time to myself to… to try and understand what's happening between us." Misty gray eyes gazed up at him, eloquently pleading her cause.

"Honey, I don't like the idea of you being alone with Hagood on the loose."

"He wouldn't bother me now. He's more likely to come after you when he finds out the Zippo and the Heart aren't Jim's," Kirsten pointed out logically.

"Maybe. No, I don't like it. I want you where I can keep an eye on you. You're staying here." But he was weakening in response to her gentle plea and Kirsten sensed it.

"Simon, I'll be perfectly safe. You can check the apartment over before you leave me behind in it. I need the time, Simon. Don't you understand? You've asked a lot of me and you can be very overwhelming…" She was careful to keep her tone humble and beseeching. Ranting would get her nowhere. But she did want to be alone for a while. There was so much she needed to consider that couldn't be properly thought out with his disturbing influence nearby.

"Honey…"

"Please, Simon? You want me to be able to give you an honest answer to the question you asked last night, don't you?" They both knew she referred to his demand for an unconditional surrender.

"And you need privacy to come to terms with yourself?" he asked searchingly.

"Yes." It was the simple truth and it showed.

"All right," he agreed reluctantly, and pulled her close. "It's against my better judgment," he added grimly, his fingers stroking the nape of her neck as Kirsten buried her face against his shirt. She deliberately kept her nose pressed against him for a moment. It was necessary in order to hide the involuntary smile which had come with her victory over him. Simon could be handled, it seemed.

"I just hope for your sake, young woman, that this nasty feeling I've got of having just been 'managed' is nothing more than a false suspicion!" he added warningly, tightening his grip for an instant before releasing her.

"No, Simon," she assured him, turning quickly to head toward the living room and her luggage. He had told her once she had a very transparent face. It would be better if he didn't get a good look just yet.

"Ummm." He didn't sound totally convinced.

Half an hour after Simon had completed his precautionary check of her apartment and reluctantly taken his leave, Kirsten, dressed in a yellow nightgown, lay amid her yellow sheets and gazed at the ceiling. She had been completely truthful with Simon earlier when she had stressed the need for some time to herself. Now she had it and couldn't decide what to do with it. Did she really need to consider the matter of marriage to Simon? she asked herself. No. It was a settled issue as far as she could tell. If Simon wanted her, she would marry him. She loved him. And when a small voice protested that she had only known him a little over a week, Kirsten reminded herself that she had known Jim Talbot much longer and never felt as close to him as she did to her very large fiance.

Yes, the marriage was settled. But what about Simon's strange terms, Kirsten thought, staring at the pattern of shadows above her. Could she give him the degree of surrender he wanted? Would he marry her without it? She rather thought he would. He had said nothing about postponing the marriage until she came to him on his terms. Was that because he was so confident she would do so before the weekend arrived?

What right, she thought, did he have to demand so much from her? The answer to that came quickly. Simon assumed the rights he wished. Kirsten tried turning the situation around in her mind and looking at it from his point of view. He wanted her; had said she would have all of him if she was willing to give all of herself to him in exchange. All of Simon Kendrick? What an overwhelming notion! It literally filled her brain, leaving little room for rational thought. She remembered the way he touched her, the possessiveness he made plain. He would make a most demanding husband. Was she capable of satisfying him? For the first time a new worry intruded. Sex with Jim Talbot had been a demoralizing experience. He simply hadn't cared very much about the woman he was with, and she felt that was true of others as well as herself. He was interested merely in satisfying his own needs. Kirsten hadn't felt unsatisfied with him because he had never raised the level of her desire to the point where she craved fulfillment. She was intelligent enough and romantic enough to know there could be more to the experience, but it wasn't until Simon had touched her that she had glimpsed the tremendous range of feeling waiting to be explored. Simon was the only man she had begged to hold her! Didn't that say something about the emotions he aroused in her? After all, it wasn't as if she responded easily to a man. What was it that made her reactions to Simon so powerful? Love? Or some instinctive knowledge that she really could trust him. Totally and completely. Was that what her body was trying to tell her? Sleep claimed her before the answer came.

Kirsten had no idea how much time had passed when she heard the soft creak of the floor beside her bed. The sound made her freeze. The floorboard only protested in that particular fashion when someone stepped on it…

For an eternity, Kirsten lay in chilled terror, her back to the source of the soft, ominous sound. It had ceased and she began to pray she had imagined it, even while common sense informed her it had been very real. Desperately, she tried to recall everything she had ever read about dealing with an intruder. Somewhere she thought she had heard it was best to pretend sleep. Let the thief go about his business without feeling threatened. Immobility proved easy enough. Kirsten wasn't at all certain she could move if she had to! Go on! she screamed in her head. The only money I've got is in the purse on the couch in the living room. Take it! Get out! With all her might she willed whoever it was to retreat back down the hallway toward the living room.

But when the sound came again she knew it was useless. What now? Make a dash for the window? Anything seemed better than waiting for God-knew-what to happen next. She had to make a decision. Better to begin screaming and at least try for escape. If the intruder was intent only on robbery, he would have moved on by now. A mind-shaking picture of a rapist with a knife, standing beside the bed, working up his nerve, was the final, motivating force.

An instinctive knowledge that she would have to fight, and the will to at least be on her feet when the battle came, drove Kirsten into a sudden, frenzied rush from the bed. She had some dim idea of putting its width between herself and the attacker. She opened her mouth to scream, remembering with a feverish gratitude the poor sound insulation between apartments. She staggered to her feet, drawing in a lungful of air. She was aware of the awful rushing noises around her of dark figures moving with frightening speed to cover the distance to her. Figures! There were two men in the room!