Sanctuary (Jezebel's Ladder Book 3) (27 page)

Whoever tried to sneak onto Lou’s island may have thought they
were being stealthy as they thrashed in the water of his lagoon. However, after
weeks alone with the elements, he knew the island’s every sound. As the newcomer
lay gasping in the sand, Lou emerged from the trees to pin them with the point
of a long, wicked spear. He could feel the flesh under his weapon. It would
only take a shift in weight to kill the intruder.

“You look like a British Tarzan,” a
woman’s voice said.

He took the comment as a reference
to the fact that he wore only a Speedo and his pectorals were more defined than
ever. “Mercy?” Lou asked, to make sure this wasn’t a hallucination.

“I’m here if you need anything.” After
weeks of isolation, he welcomed any voice, hers especially. Her saying
this
to him was wet-dream material.

“Tarzan
was
British,” he
argued. He moved the spear aside slightly, so he could appear threatening
without actually hurting her unintentionally.

“I m-meant with a suntan and a
beard. It looks
good
,” Mercy said.

“You like it?” he asked, rubbing
his knuckles over the addition, carried away by the female attention. The
resemblance to a Bugs Bunny skit struck him suddenly, and he blustered to cover
his gaff. “I warned you all away. What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“I’m exiled, too, for dereliction
of duty and repeated counts of disobeying a direct order.”

“When?”

“When I came to see you.”

He swallowed. “Now that you have, you
need to go. I won’t tell.”

“I’m cold. A gentleman would help
me warm up.”

“We’ve already established that I’m
not a gentleman.”

She took a step toward him and
said, “Prove it.”

“What?” This wasn’t making sense.

“I want you to . . .” Mercy then
listed a roster of services he’d last seen on the menu of a Tahitian
whorehouse. She was trying to talk dirty, but mangling it badly. It was like
him talking math.
I want to stroke your hypotenuse until it’s squared, baby.
He couldn’t help it; he laughed at the juxtaposition. Lou had been able to
resist her clumsy advances, but not the tears that followed.

She collapsed on the sand, wailing.
“I walked across burning sands to seduce you. I thought all cats were gray in
the dark. I thought a blind man wouldn’t mind if . . . I . . . were . . . ugly.
But I’m too hideous even if I’m the last woman on this planet.”

He didn’t understand half of it,
but dropped the spear in order to hold the sobbing woman close to his chest.
Too late, as he stroked her back, he realized she was only in her underwear.
Red would flay him alive if she found out about this.

“Who said you’re ugly? I’ll smack
them upside the head.”

“
You
did.”

“No!”

“I’m the ugly sheep.”

“Uh . . . that was for Toby
Baa-banger, not you. God, Mercy, you’re smoking hot. I’ve seen the footage of
your body at Carnival.”

“That was my sister, the pretty
one.”

“I didn’t give your sister a
massage in the Honey Meadow. You have curves that make Vanessa seem flat as a
boy. And if I could paint like Sojiro, I’d put your face on an angel. Sometimes,
I fantasized about being a book so those big brown eyes would dance over me
like a caress. Your hair bounces when you’re happy. Even your voice can turn a
man on—”

Mercy’s tongue found his right
nipple at some point during the awkward soliloquy, and she feasted on it until
his face went numb. “God! Oh . . . stop.” The last command lacked emphasis, but
he’d said it for the record. If she touched the excitement that was building up
in him, he’d lose all control. That would be wrong, like having sex in the back
pews of the church. Okay, he’d done it in the dean’s office of a religious
school for girls, but that was different. There had to be boundaries.

“I think I like you better when you’re
quiet,” she said huskily. When he opened his mouth to reply, she kissed him
hard.

The kiss was inexperienced, but
sweet and sincere. It hit his system like that first tumbler of scotch after a
week of survival training. He swallowed it greedily, even as he felt her writhe
against him. When he heard the shoosh of her bottoms dropping onto the sand, he
broke the contact and backed away like she’d clicked the safety off on a gun.
“This isn’t you. Y-you don’t belong here.”

She circled, forcing him to
constantly adjust his facing to hold her off. “I’m here on this island for as
long as you are. You haven’t made love in months. Why shouldn’t you enjoy me?”

Lou held up a finger. “That sounds
like logic, but it isn’t.” He took several moments to come up with any
objection, though. “Aren’t you a virgin?”

“That’s rather personal.”

He raised an eyebrow. She sighed as
she admitted the fact, as if it implied communist affiliation. “Yes.”

“What really brought this visit on?”

“Answer one question for me, and I’ll
do anything you like,” she purred. The sound of that phrase tickled his ear
like an ostrich feather.

“Sure.”

“What’s your first name?”

“Everyone calls me Lou.”

“I know. Maybe if I share first. I’ve
never told anyone this, but my middle name is
Cielito
,
from the song.”

“
Cielito
Lindo
—Beautiful piece of heaven,” he
replied. “A fine Mexican drinking song. And it fits you.”

He could hear her blush and look
down shyly as she explained, “The song played every morning on the way to
breakfast on the cruise where I was conceived. If I’d been a boy, I’d have been
Tom, after Tom Jones.”

“Give me one good reason you need
my first name.”

“Because if I’m going to be
shouting your name in the throes of passion, I want to get it right.”

He swallowed.
That is the best
damn reason I’ve ever heard.
“It’s Kai. But I don’t like it.”

“Kai is a good, strong name.”

“It’s Cornish for dog,” he
complained. That’s what women had always called him when they thought he wasn’t
listening.

“After all that mocking of Toby,
you have the same problem with your own name. Surely, your parents didn’t mean
for that to happen.”

“Nah. My mum was a fan of the
Arthurian legends. She named me after Sir Kay, the one who trained the king.”

“My father was Percival for the
same reason,” she said, stroking the small of his back with one hand. She was
so supportive that he couldn’t help but feel drawn to her.

“Your dad was a solid guy. Red
couldn’t say enough good things about him.”

“Kay also means keeper of the keys.
It’s the title of someone who can be trusted,” she said with both arms around
him. “That’s the meaning it’ll have for me when I shout it. Now, can you help
me practice saying it the right way?” She seized the opportunity to give his
other nipple equal time.

“Wait!” he objected, surprising
himself. “You have a bump on your head.”

“Could be a concussion. It’s your
duty to make sure I don’t get any sleep.”

“It might be impairing your
judgment.”

“I came here despite the injuries
because I need to be with you.”

“Why would you possibly want me
when you could have a real man? You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough. The women in my
family make up their minds quickly. My mother decided to marry my father after
knowing him only two days. You and I have known each other for months. You’re
deeper than you’ve let yourself be. I’m useless at camp, but there’s one thing
I’ve decided I can do with my talents, even from exile. I
choose
to give
myself to you, love. I can teach you to be whole again, and I’ll do anything to
make you feel that way if it takes me the rest of my life. I’m committed to
you, Kai.”

He believed her and kissed her
bruise tenderly.

She tripped him backward onto the
moss. She was the goddess of gravity, and falling felt like freedom.

When he felt her warmth on top of
him, all further words melted.

It was one of the shortest, most
intense lovemaking sessions in his life, faster than that elevator in New Orleans. She pushed him over the edge when she said his real name with adoration. No
other woman had ever called him that. Even her offer of commitment couldn’t
scare him away.

****

Mercy lay next to Kai on the beach.
The sand had been uncomfortable and the ripping down below had hurt. God, she
was sore. She didn’t think she could stomach the act again for at least another
month. But the closeness with her man was incredible. He’d enjoyed it so much
that she thought he’d had a stroke at first. For a long while, he couldn’t move
or speak. Then he snuggled.
Ahh
.

After a few minutes, he tried to
speak, apologizing, but she stopped his words with a kiss. One kiss turned to
another, and then the maestro pulled out his bow. He kissed everything. Places
on her body she’d ignored most of her life turned out to be very responsive.
Her reactions excited him, making him hungrier and faster. When his fingertips
brushed the hair under her navel, she gasped. “What was that?”

“Foreplay,” he whispered.

“Isn’t that a little late?”

“Not for this go-round,” he
promised. He made her see stars, pant, and suffer from the heat, just like her
long voyage to the island, but this time in a good way.

When he finally finished, over an
hour later, she didn’t have the energy to open her eyes.

“Your first orgasm?” he asked
lazily.

“And second, and maybe third,” she
said, whimpering. “I can see why Mary wanted to do this rather than study
economics.”

The beard tickled a little, but she
decided she’d make him keep it. He spooned her with his arms around her
midsection, and she wanted to dance on the sand.
Please, don’t ruin this
perfect moment by talking
, she prayed.

Just as her breathing changed and
she started drifting to sleep on the idyllic, white beach, Lou said, “At first,
I thought someone came here to kill me. I guess that could still happen, but
sexual exhaustion might be the way to go.”

“Could you phrase that a little
less like you were talking to a guy?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I could imagine
spending the rest of my life like this.”

“Better.” Testing a theory, she opened
her fanny pack and handed him the last morsel. “That deserves some cornbread.”

He devoured the meal
enthusiastically and fell asleep soon after.
Note to self: if he talks too
much in bed, it’s a sign he wants to be fed. I should write a book on this.

That evening, as she harvested
clams for dinner, Lou gathered tubers and then boiled them in his steel
survival mess kit. The island was burgeoning with food because there were no
land animals but them. “The tubers are kind of like parsnips, but I won’t
complain because I didn’t have to weed the garden.”

“You had to do that as a kid?”

“My grandparents still believed in
victory gardens. Our estate was huge, but Gran still grew her own vegetables
and roses.”

“I want roses someday,” she sighed.

“Gran would love you.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re quality people, Mercy.
Better than I deserve. Gran would be the first to point that out.”

The thought made her smile. Then,
Mercy remembered the last worry she had before he had his nap. “Why would you
suspect a killer?”

“Because Z said—” He stopped
stirring and talking at the same time.

“Yes? You’re sharing a cell with me
indefinitely, and now you’re having second thoughts?”

“I suppose there’s no way you could
be involved. Z said someone broke the charter. He didn’t think it was me, but
he wanted me out of the way for my own safety, in case the train wreck was
really an attempt on my life.”

“He thinks someone tried to kill
you?”

“Someone’s been tampering with the
ship’s computer.”

“I can just ask Snowflake.”

“You what?” His mouth dropped open,
so she kissed it.

“Snowflake and I understand each
other. I think the AI started immature, like the chicks, and grew with us. It
bonded with me a little.”

“Right. I can see why you scare the
shit out of Toby.” Mercy had never thought of herself as frightening. “He calls
you a witch. You know.” Lou demonstrated a finger wave.

“That’s probably why he doesn’t
want me in Olympus. I never did anything against him.”

“It’s not just him. You intimidate
lots of folks who underestimate you. Z was worried that you’d queer his plan to
sneak up to the decontamination chamber. He wanted to talk to Sensei in secret.”

“Why so hush-hush?”

“Because Red couldn’t communicate with
folks in the sphere from decontamination, and there’s a four-hour window where
just about anyone can kill her. If somebody has already committed a major
crime, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill one more person if they could make it
look like an accident.”

“But we could be stranded here for
life.”

Lou shrugged. “This is Club Med,
sweetie. I wouldn’t mind it . . . now.”

“So you’re saying the whole alien
white space on Alcantara is a fake to fool some unknown criminal?”

“Almost anybody could’ve planned the
wreck; people were in and out of Olympus all the time. We weren’t real strict
about shifts or (ahem) conjugal visits. Z was sweating bullets that you’d
figure out the fake and get Red killed.”

“He should’ve told me,” she
complained.

Lou took a mango off the pile and
bit into it with a grunt. “You were a prime suspect because Snowflake was tied
in knots and you wouldn’t allow an empath in your interview. He
ordered
you away from the scene, but you wouldn’t listen. You kept
helping
people and giving hints.”