Ice Blue - Anne Stuart [71]
She felt the woman’s lips against her ear. “They won’t be able to see anything now, but they can still hear. Do everything I tell you and don’t say a word.”
Yeah, right, Jilly thought. I’m going to lie here and let you mess with me, you disgusting…And then she realized the woman’s German accent had disappeared.
She managed to open her eyes, but the darkness was absolute. There was no pinprick in her skin, no unpleasant touches. Just the woman’s cool hand on hers.
“Can you sit up yet? Squeeze my fingers if you can.”
Jilly tried, but her muscles were still useless.
“Then we’ll wait,” the woman said. She had a faint British accent, and Jilly wondered if that was just as fake as the German one. Maybe she’d live long enough to find out.
The Nazi bitch was gone, and this woman, whoever she was, seemed determined to help her. And Jilly had no choice but to trust her.
Taka had told her nothing but the truth this time. He wasn’t going to kill her. He wasn’t sure when he’d finally realized that simple fact—maybe the first time he’d set eyes on her. He’d come close, too many times, but had rescued her more times than that. When he’d sensed the threat in the summer cottage, his first instinct had been to protect her, save her.
He counted on his instincts to keep him alive. He couldn’t start ignoring them now and hope to survive. Every intuition kept him protecting Summer Hawthorne, and every time he tried to talk himself into killing her his instincts would take over.
He had enough battles to fight right now without fighting one with himself.
She was going to live. She was going to grow old and fat and have children and live happily ever after, whether she liked it or not, as far away from him as possible. He had every intention of seeing to it.
Once he got her safely stowed he could concentrate on his mission: stopping the deadly doomsday cult before they could put their plans into action. Madame Lambert might give him shit, but in the end she’d trust his judgment. He just had to make certain the Shirosama was stopped, sooner rather than later. That was the only way Summer would be safe.
She wasn’t speaking to him now, but staring stone-faced out the window as he drove through the night. Anything was better than her laughter, the eerie sound of her losing control. He’d wanted to stop the car, pull her into his arms and hold her tightly until the hysteria stopped. Crazy notion, when they had to get the hell out of there as fast as they could.
The one good thing in all this was that she hated him with a fiery passion. He’d shamed her, rejected her, destroyed her family home. She even knew he’d planned to kill her. Any tender feelings she might have for him would be burned to a cinder of hatred.
And since, time after time, his crazy instincts had made him save her, he’d save her one more time. He’d save her from him. Then, if there was any mercy in this world, he’d be able to forget about her.
17
Jilly woke slowly, drifting into wakefulness in the inky darkness. She could see nothing at all, not even the shape of the woman who was either her guard, her brainwasher or her rescuer, but she knew she wasn’t alone. The drugs were wearing off quickly now. She could feel life flowing back into her body, and she tested her muscles, flexing them enough to know they worked, without letting the woman realize a thing. Even her fingers were responding—they were close beside her body, but she could make them move. Now she simply had to decide what to do next. The woman who had drugged her was smaller than she was, but incredibly strong, and if Jilly tried to overpower her she’d probably end up with another syringeful of drugs. The woman hadn’t precisely said she was going to help, but anyone