“Well, Ms. Crawford,” the General spoke congenially in perfect but accented English.
“We meet at last. I know your father well.”
“Then you know him better than I,” Laurie retorted coldly, though she gripped the sheet in tight fists to stop the tremors racking her. “What do you want?”
“From you—nothing,” he replied with a smile that did not reach his visible eye. “That is, nothing you do no wish to give.” The sudden mocking gleam in his eye indicated he would not be averse to any favors she might bestow.
Laurie shot Damien a fast contemptuous glance then glared at the General again, outraged by his phony courtesy.
“Why am I here?” she demanded, putting as much ice in her tone as fear allowed.
He paced around the room in slow, measured strides. “You are my insurance policy.
Your father has been with us many years. I do not wish to lose him.”
“He betrayed his own country,” Laurie shot back derisively. “He’ll probably betray you, as well.”
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
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The General halted at the foot of the cot and fixed his stony stare on her. “You will prevent that.”
“How long do you intend to keep me here?”
“As long as necessary,” was the curt response.
The cold gleam in his eye sent an involuntary shiver through her. Her heart beat so fast she thought surely he must hear it. She sucked in a sharp breath. Fear once again wrapped icy fingers around her spine. She glanced at Damien, instinctively appealing for his help.
He leaned a shoulder against the door frame, watching them lazily. But his stance was alert, as though he was ready to pounce at the least provocation. He was the enemy. Remember that, she warned her irrational heart. He could not be trusted. She put her hand to her temple. It throbbed beneath her fingertips.
The General blocked her view of Damien and leaned over her. He trailed a finger along her cheek and she shuddered, clamping down on revulsion.
“Rest, my dear. You’ve been through a great ordeal. We’ll talk further later.” With that he turned on his heel and left the room.
Stunned, Laurie watched Damien follow him out. The door closed but she heard no click of a lock. Damien stood on the other side of the door, the back of his head and shoulders visible in the small window.
Alone in the silent room, Laurie scowled at the ceiling. Damien, she fumed, the traitor!
Beneath the anger, hurt wrenched her heart. He had used her, made love to her, then turned her over to these criminals. How could she have believed herself in love with him? A traitor! But she had loved him. No, she loved the man she had believed him to be. Cursing herself for a fool, she wallowed in a sense of betrayal that threatened to drown her. He had merely used her for his own ends. Her mind spinning, she finally slid into fitful, tormented sleep.
* * * *
Standing guard at the door, Damien stared through the window and watched her toss and turn for several long minutes. He finally turned away with a ragged sigh of bitter longing and self-disgust. He had expected fury, even hate, from her. But he had not expected the sharp dagger of pain and guilt that pierced his heart when she looked at him. The devastated betrayal that lurked deep in her emerald eyes had cut him to the bone. He’d rather be stabbed with a dull rusted knife than have Laurie look at him with such pain and accusation in her eyes.
He scowled. He had disagreed, quite vehemently, with the plan from the start of this covert operation. It was not a Navy operation. He and his team were on strict loan to some secret national security group that even he had never heard of before. Instead of a slow, undercover infiltration, he had used Laurie to facilitate a rapid, potentially unstable insertion.
The key to his success was Laurie. Disgusted, Damien slouched against the door in a flood of guilt. Why hadn’t he at least told her? She still would not have had a choice in the matter but if he had been honest with her, she would not look at him with such hatred and contempt.
Low ragged groans dragged him out of his self-loathing. He jerked around and peered through the dirty window. His heart clenched. Fighting the thin sheet, Laurie tossed and turned on the cot. She groaned and whimpered with every move. Tears streamed from her eyes. Without thought, Damien jerked the door open and stalked into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. He crossed the room in three strides and perched on the edge of the cot. Her hands abruptly flailed the air, either seeking help or warding off evil.
“Laurie.” He grabbed her hands, held them firmly at her sides as he leaned over her.
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening