Enemy Within. AMANDA BROWNING

was guilt talking. Guilt because she couldn’t ignore the attraction she felt. But only she knew that; everyone else was probably thinking she looked a mess!

      Shakily she adjourned the mental court inside her brain which constantly sat in judgement of herself. Yes, it was her appearance which caused comment, and for the first time in years she regretted leaving her designer clothes behind. Tonight she could have done with the boost to her confidence that a fashionable suit would have provided.

      As she followed in Ryan’s wake, paradoxically comforted by the thought, she quite missed the fact that the reason people turned to look was because of the natural pride and confidence in her bearing.

      Ryan’s suite was on the top floor, above the hustle and bustle of the town, and walking into it was like entering a haven of peace. For all of thirty seconds. It took that long for Mickey to walk inside, take an appreciative look at the comfortable furnishings, and turn round. Whereupon she had the fortune, or misfortune, to be in time to see Ryan Douglas turn the key in the lock, before removing and pocketing it securely. The shock had her eyes swinging to his face to meet an expression so grim that her stomach lurched.

      ‘What are you doing?’ The question came out in a husky waver, and, dismayed to sound so wishy-washy, she dredged up enough steel to add demandingly, ‘Why have you locked us in?’

      He chose not to answer immediately. Removing his hat and coat and tossing them on to a chair, Ryan strode menacingly towards her, halting almost painfully close. ‘Not us, Hanlon, just you. We have some talking to do, and I don’t want you running away.’

      The statement was hardly designed to ease the erratic thumping of her heart. She had no idea what was going on, but she didn’t like it anyway. It was hard not to think of all those scary tales of kidnapping, but she told herself this was Ryan Douglas, not some thug. All the same, she was determined to camouflage her growing tension at finding herself in the midst of this new and startling situation.

      ‘Isn’t this a little extreme for talking over flight plans?’ she attempted to joke, while looking for a means of escape. It didn’t take long to realise they were too high up for there to be any safer exit than the door.

      A fact Ryan was fully aware of, and, although he had taken the precaution of locking the door, he still kept himself between her and it. Moreover, he didn’t laugh. ‘Cut out the chit-chat and just tell me where they are,’ he commanded, in a voice which could have shattered rock at twenty paces.

      If she’d hoped for instant enlightenment, at his words the darkness only deepened. Completely at a loss, she stared at him, deciding he was utterly mad, and wondering why nobody else had ever noticed it. Hadn’t someone once said the way to handle madmen was to humour them? It seemed to her to be a wise course.

      She manufactured a faintly questioning smile. ‘You’ll have to tell me more than that. Where are what? What exactly are you talking about?’ she queried with as much concern as she could muster.

      It went down like a ton of bricks. An angry hand slashed through the air, cutting her off so abruptly that she flinched. ‘You know damn well!’

      Mickey struggled to make sense of it all. She could feel an incredible anger coming at her in waves. She had never experienced such violent animosity before, not even when the news of her involvement with Jean-Luc had broken, making her the butt of universal condemnation. All at once her knees began to tremble, and her heart to race. This sounded like trouble with a capital ‘T’, and she couldn’t even begin to defend herself until she knew the reason. So she had to continue fighting in the dark.

      ‘All I know is that you’re crazy! You lure me here under false pretences, lock me in, and then make irrational demands! Whatever you’re looking for, I haven’t got it!’ It was good to feel angry, for it smothered her anxiety.

      Ryan moved like lightning to catch her by the shoulders and shake her roughly. ‘God, I should have known you’d be bloody perverse. You’re in it too, aren’t you? Right up to your sweet little neck!’

      Though nothing made sense, when danger threatened Mickey acted instinctively. Her foot lashed out, the heavy boot connecting with his shin with a highly satisfactory thunk, and as he yelped and released her she had the presence of mind to quickly put herself out of range beyond the couch. From there she watched him rub his sore leg briefly before straightening to glare at her. She held up a faintly trembling hand to keep him at bay.

      ‘Stay right where you are, or, so help me, I’ll scream blue murder!’ she threatened, fully prepared to carry it out.

      Ryan Douglas’s broad chest rose and fell sharply as he took a breath. He stayed where he was, but not because he was afraid of scandal, simply because it suited him better. Mickey swallowed nervously to moisten a mouth which had taken on the aspect of a particularly arid desert. Clearly he was battling a compulsive urge to throttle her, and it appeared to take a great effort for him to sound reasonable.

      ‘There’s no need for you to scream. If you don’t want to prolong this unpleasant interview, just tell me where Peter is...where they both are.’

      There he went again! Did he think she was crazy too? If she had known she would have told him, just to get out of there. Unfortunately, Mickey was as much in the dark as ever. ‘Who is Peter, and who are “they”?’ she demanded helplessly, with predictable results.

      Those incredible blue eyes narrowed. ‘You know, this pretence of ignorance is doing nothing for my patience, Hanlon,’ he said testily, then breathed in deeply. ‘OK, OK, if it will get me some answers I’ll go along with it. But be warned, my patience isn’t endless. Peter is Peter Douglas, my nephew.’

      He could have said Rip Van Winkle for all the relevance it had to her. ‘Is that supposed to convey something?’ Edgily, she knew what reaction her response would receive.

      His jaw clenched. ‘You’re darn right it should, because Peter is the man your precious sister has got her gold-digging claws into!’

      Mickey was stunned. Of all the answers she might have imagined, that had never occurred to her. ‘Leah?’ An awful foreboding clenched her heart as she recalled her own concern over the lack of communication with her sister.

      At her mention of the name, a grim smile twisted his lips. ‘So you haven’t forgotten everything,’ he drawled nastily. ‘Yes, Leah. Your scheming sister has got Peter so besotted, he’s run off with her! But let me tell you something: if she thinks she’s got a meal-ticket for life, she’s got another think coming!’

      Shock rapidly gave way to anger, which welled up like a volcanic eruption. ‘Hold it! Who do you think you’re calling a gold-digger?’ she challenged violently, seeing in her mind’s eye the sweet face of her young half-sister. Gold-digger? If anything, Leah was quite dismayingly unworldly.

      ‘What else would you call a woman who convinces a man to run off with her after five minutes’ acquaintance?’

      She didn’t fully understand the situation, but she knew Leah was under attack, and that was enough. Like a tigress coming to the defence of her young, Mickey balled her hands into fists. ‘Don’t you dare say another word, Ryan Douglas, because you’ve got hold of the wrong girl. My sister Leah has not run away with anyone. She’s studying for her degree at university.’ True enough, but that niggle of doubt increased. Why hadn’t Leah been in touch?

      An eyebrow rose mockingly. ‘Really? Well, believe it or not, she’s found a new career,’ he sneered.

      The gibe brought an angry growl to her throat. ‘Well, I don’t believe you! Leah hasn’t mentioned anyone to me. I know my sister, and deceit is beyond her. I don’t know this Peter, but, if he’s anything like you, then it’s my belief that any seducing has been done by your own precious nephew!’ Mickey charged back fiercely, rounding the couch to square up to him.

      ‘Peter isn’t the one who needs money. He has enough of his own, as if you didn’t know!’ he put in caustically.

      Mickey felt ready to explode. ‘I don’t know, and Leah doesn’t