Be Careful What You Wish For(18)
Author: Joanna Wylde

It was been easy to put all that out of her mind, along with her bills and her tiny apartment. The only living things that needed her were the houseplants, and she had no doubt that her kindly neighbors had divided those between them. It had been depressingly easy for her to drop out of sight. Twenty-seven years old, and nothing of value to show for it.

She shook her head, and stood up. That wasn’t true. Her life had value. She’d helped hundreds of people at the sports clinic, and had been building a clientele that included many elderly people who had been soothed by her touch. She had healing hands, and she knew how to use them. She had something of value to offer the world.

She pulled a swim cover-up over the string bikini she wore. It, along with an entire tropical wardrobe, had arrived just days after they’d reached the villa. She had no idea how he’d done it, but Sean had arranged for her to get everything she could possibly need.

She walked slowly toward the house. She needed to talk to Sean, to find out what was really going on. It was too easy to listen to Rosa, and too easy fall into the trap of fear. Yes, her situation was tenuous, but against all rational thought, she found she trusted Sean. He had been good to her, and she knew he got as much pleasure from her company as she did from his. It was time for them to talk.

* * * * *

“Thanks for coming in,” Sean said. She’d found him in the study, his face serious. She’d tied her cover-up around her waist sarong-style. He liked it on her—she knew that from past experience. He’d told her once that nothing was sexier than a woman in a bikini with just a little fabric draped around her hips. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to remind him of that when they had their little talk about the future. If ever a time to pull out the big ammo had existed, this was it.

She sat down across from him, deliberately crossing her legs so the fabric fell open. She could feel her ni**les coming to attention beneath the thin fabric of her bikini top. The air conditioning always did that when she first came into the house, and she saw his eyes darting there before returning to her face.

“I got some bad news this morning,” he said slowly. She nodded her head.

“Rosa told me.”

He grimaced, and then shook his head.

“Rosa isn’t exactly a reliable source of information,” he said.

“No, I try not to pay too much attention to her,” Sandra replied. “But it can be kind of hard to feel secure when the only thing I know for sure is that I’m already dead.”

“Well, that is a good point,” he said dryly. For some bizarre reason she felt a giggle crawling up her throat. She bit it back, knowing it was just tension.

“So, what now?’ she asked, laying their central dilemma out on the table.

“I have a plan,” he replied. “I’ve always wanted to live on a boat. A sailboat, to be exact. I’ve purchased one in the Cayman Islands. I’d like you to join me on it.”

He sat back, seemingly relaxed. She tried to think, unsure of what response to give. A boat could be good…

“I’d like that,” she said slowly. “I think we could have a good time on a boat.”

It seemed like such an inane statement. Her entire life depended on this man’s decisions and all she could think to say was

I think we could have a good time on a boat?

But she couldn’t say what she was really thinking. A boat might make it easier to escape. She could even kill him and dump his body overboard. Of course, she didn’t have a clue as to how to run a boat by herself. But she could watch him. She could learn.

“How big of a boat?’ she asked, wondering if she’d have to deal with a crew as well.

“Fifty feet,” he said. “Sailboat. We’ll have two crewmembers to start with. They’ll be teaching us how to sail it.”

“When do we leave?’ she asked.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“What about documents? Won’t I need a passport?”

“That’s not a problem,” he replied, handing her a manila folder filled with documents. “You have a whole new identity now. Your name is Shannon Bradley, although I think I’ll call you Shan. Seems to fit your personality better.”

“It sounds like you’ve got everything figured out,” she said slowly. She didn’t ask what Valzar thought of the new arrangement, or what he expected to have happen to her long-term. It was a good enough sign that he’d gotten her a passport. Sean must plan on keeping her around for a while at least.

“I’ll pack my clothes,” she said reassuringly, willing him to understand. “I want to make this work, Sean.

I’m very highly motivated.”

* * * * *

She was highly motivated. He knew that already. In such a short time she had became an important part of his life, yet at heart he knew she was so good to him because she was afraid. Despite the nice clothing, despite the long nights of making love in the cool air of the villa, Sandra was f**king him to stay alive. Simple, and not particularly pretty. She didn’t care about him at all and he couldn’t blame her for it in the least.

It was a terrifying thing to realize that your happiness depended on someone else. Especially when it was someone else who had little or no reason to care for you. He’d seen the calculations behind her eyes when she’d asked about the boat. She tried to hide her feelings from him but she wasn’t accustomed to deceiving those around her. She was an innocent, a child compared to him in a thousand little ways. She had no concept of what a man like him could do to another person.

He supposed he should feel guilty, but if he allowed himself to feel guilt over everything he’d done wrong over the years, he’d have killed himself by now. God help him, he would keep her by his side whether she liked it or not. The commitment was made and the plans were already well underway. All he had to do was follow through. She’d be his forever, and if having her was less sweet for her lack of cooperation, then so be it. Having her was worth any price.

Chapter Nine

Valzar waited for them on the dock when they arrived in the Caymans two days later. He was dressed in an immaculate white linen suit, his eyes shielded by dark glasses. With his black hair slicked back and hands tucked in his pockets, he was the picture of a Latin playboy.

Once again, looks were deceiving. He was all business as he shook Sean’s…no, Joe’s hand. She repeated the new name to herself again and again. He was Joe and she was Shannon. That was her new reality and she had to get used to it.