An Inconvenient Husband. Karen Van Der Zee
had found her another glass of wine and had not left her side for the rest of the evening. The days and weeks that followed had blurred into a whirlwind of love, laughter and passion.
She’d been in love plenty of times, but nothing compared to this. This was the real thing! She loved this man with all her soul. She knew it. Absolutely.
A month later they were married.
Nazirah stopped asking questions and for a while they drove on silently through the city and Nicky looked outside taking in the sights and the people.
She was in love with Kuala Lumpur, with its wonderful mixture of architecture illustrating the country’s turbulent colonial history. Contemporary high rises blended in with Moorish mosques, Chinese temples and Victorian buildings left by British colonial rule. Lush tropical greenery shaded the roads and buildings.
Her stomach growled inelegantly and Nazirah grinned. “Didn’t you have breakfast?”
“No. I didn’t want to spoil my appetite.” There’d be plenty of food to eat at the market, and Nicky was ready for some. It was only fair that if she was going to write about the food, she should try it first. She had her notebook and pen ready, as well as a good dose of enthusiasm to help her along. Open markets were her most favorite places. She grinned at herself. It was going to be an exciting day. She could feel it already.
Lighted minarets stood silhouetted against the dark night sky like an image from the Arabian Nights as Nicky rode home in a taxi that night. She felt exhausted but exhilarated, and she didn’t think she was going to eat again for a week.
The large gates stood open and the car drove noiselessly up the drive toward the front door of her father’s house. Nicky got out, paid the turbaned Sikh driver and moved up the veranda steps. The night watchman lay asleep on his mat and didn’t stir as she let herself in. Poor guy. He probably had a day job, as well, to make ends meet.
The house was silent. Her father had flown to Singapore for business and wouldn’t be back until sometime tomorrow. The house felt empty and lonely. She sighed and turned on the brass table lamps in the living room and dropped her notebook and purse amid the silk embroidered cushions on the sofa. She might as well work on her notes tonight, but first she’d get out of her clothes and shower off the days’ heat and dust.
Quickly she moved through the hall to her room, opened the door, switched on the light and froze.
Her heart made a sickening lurch, then started racing when a rush of adrenaline flooded her. Chaos. Drawers had been turned over, clothes strewn everywhere. The French windows stood wide open, the lacy white curtains wafting eerily in the breeze.
Never had anything like this happened to her before and for an interminable moment her legs would not move and she stood rooted to the floor, her heart pounding like a sledgehammer.
Burglars, was her first thought. Burglars searching for money, jewelry.
Jewelry! Her mother’s diamond necklace! Oh, God, no! It was an heirloom, passed on from mother to daughter for several generations. She rushed over to the dresser, found the velvet jewelry bag emptied out on the top—her rings, earrings, her mother’s necklace. It was all there. Nothing had been taken. Relief washed over her, then utter confusion. If the burglars hadn’t wanted her jewelry, then what had they been looking for? The rest of the house had been untouched. Or at least the living room had appeared to be and that’s where the TV was, and the VCR and the CD player.
What did they want in her room?
Her legs were trembling as she scanned the room, trying to see, to understand. I’ve got to do something, she thought. I’ve got to call somebody. The police. She reached for the bedside phone, realizing at the same time that 9-1-1 would do her no good outside the United States, that she didn’t know the local emergency number, if there even was one.
She realized something else, as well. The phone was dead.
Never before had she known such fear.
And then it got worse.
Movement behind her. As she swung around, a hand clamped over her mouth and she was bodily lifted off the floor and carried out of the bedroom door.
CHAPTER TWO
PARALYZED by fear, Nicky felt herself being carried through the hall and living room and out the front door. She was gasping for breath as the two powerful arms that held her pressed her face forcefully against a hard chest. She started struggling, kicking her legs, but she. was nothing more than a doll in the steely grip.
“Not a sound or we’re both dead!” growled a low voice, the tone deadly and ominous. A voice intimately familiar.
Fear flooded out of her. “Blake?” she asked, but her voice was smothered by his chest, barely audible.
“Quiet!” .
His chest was warm and solid against her face. For a fleeting moment she had an odd sense of déjà vu—as if once before she’d been carried off like this in the dark of night.
She heard the pumping of his heart against her cheek and her senses reeled with the familiar warm male scent of him, overwhelming for one delirious moment all other thought.
He pushed her almost roughly into the back seat ,of a car, slid in beside her, giving an order to the driver and before she could catch her breath they were tearing down the drive.
She was panting, her throat raw. “What the hell is this all about?” She struggled for the words, rubbing at a scratch on her arm where a branch had scraped the skin, her confusion greater than her fear now. They were in a taxi, she realized, and going at great speed.
“Be quiet,” he said on a low note, warning in his voice. “Later.” He glanced out the back window.
“Later what? Where are you taking me?” she demanded. “Are you insane, what is this all about?”
Steely eyes met hers. “I said be quiet.” His voice was ominously low. “You’ll be fine as long as you act normally.”
She suppressed a hysterical little laugh. Sure, no sweat. She was used to being carried off into cars against her will. Of course she would act normally. “Are you out of your mind?” she whispered fiercely.
His silence was eloquent.
She hated his superior manner. She hated him. This, of course, was nothing new. She had entertained about this man every emotion known to mankind, except one: physical fear. And she wasn’t afraid of him now, which, under the present circumstances, was something to be grateful for.
She closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat. Her whole body was trembling with shock and she felt the terrible urge to break down in tears or, alternatively, scream at Blake in fury. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to do either.
Who was Blake to kidnap her out of her father’s house? Why in the world would he want to? It didn’t make sense. She thought of the ransacked room and shivered. Nothing made sense. She thought of her father, seeing again the worry edged in his face and her stomach twisted with anxiety. Something was wrong.
Something indeed was very wrong.
Could this possibly have something to do with that business deal he’d been having trouble with? Unscrupulous, he had called the Hong Kong company. It was not a nice word. In fact, it was a frightening word. She thought of her ravaged room and shivered again, her mind in chaos. But why would Blake be involved? What could Blake possibly have to do with it? It was crazy; it made no sense at all.
Fear and anger fought for dominance in her mind. Why hadn’t her father told her what was going on? Why was he always treating her as if she were a child who should not be bothered by her parents’ problems? Well, she knew why. She was the baby of the family, and the only daughter. Her parents and three older brothers all had treated her like a princess, and although