Wicked Jake Darcy

One
 
Said Ababa     
April 23, 1986
 
“Mad, bad, and dangerous to know,” Karen Clinton quoted softly, her gaze on the table across the dance floor. “I think I’m in lust.”
 
“You’re always in lust,” Mary said. Her brown eyes twinkled as she sipped her tea. She didn’t bother to turn around and glance across the room. “And you were quoting Lord Byron. Dangerous rakes are a thing of the past. Who is it now?”
 
“Jake Darcy.”
 
“Here?” Mary had only been home from college for a few months, but even she had heard of Jake Darcy. The man ran some sort of network that was involved with casinos, smuggling, and the sale of information. Not that crime was by any means rare in the police state of Said Ababa, but it was an indication of Darcy’s stature in the netherworld that his name was known even to the people who lived on the exclusive upper bank. “Jake Darcy attending a tea dance in a private club? I can’t believe it.”
 
“He’s with Colonel Pallal and some gorgeous blond. The Colonel must have invited him.”
 
“Colonel Pallal?” Mary stiffened. “Lord, I can’t stand that man.”
 
“Who can? He’s a creep.” Karen gazed again at Mary. “Didn’t I see the Colonel with your father the other evening when I picked you up at your house?”
 
“He’s been coming to the house almost every day.”
 
“Why?”
 
“Some business with my father.” Mary lifted her cup to her lips. “I didn’t know Pallal did business with the criminal element too. It doesn’t surprise me, though.” She leaned forward and got back to the subject they’d been discussing before Karen had suddenly noticed Jake Darcy. “Now stop avoiding my question. You have the most gorgeous garden in Said Ababa, and I want it for my kids.”
 
Karen groaned. “Good Lord, two hundred little monsters running around underneath my windows.”
 
“You don’t even have to be there.” Mary smiled. “This time.”
 
Karen’s eyes widened in alarm. “That sounds ominous. I’m warning you, Mary, I won’t be turned into a do-gooder like you. I don’t see how you stand being around all those little guttersnipes any—”
 
“They’re not guttersnipes. They’re orphans who grew up in the streets.” Mary’s voice was suddenly passionate. “They’ve never had a chance, Karen. You know how rough conditions are in the city. The government’s too corrupt to bother about anything but lining the pockets of its own leaders and hacks. Father Barnard is doing a terrific job of helping the orphans, but he can’t do it alone.”
 
“So you’re doing your part.” Karen shook her head. “No wonder we haven’t seen much of you since you got back from school. I’d even heard rumors that you were using your pool to teach swimming when you should have been training.”
 
“We have so much, Karen,” Mary said with soft vehemence. “We have to give back.”
 
“You have to give back. I enjoy taking very—” Karen broke off and sighed. “Okay, stop looking at me with those big mournful brown eyes. You have the garden.” She hastily qualified, “For one day.”
 
Mary smiled brilliantly. “I’ll need the household staff to help serve at the party.”
 
“You’ll have them.” Karen smiled reluctantly as her gaze shifted from the bodice of her friend’s white batiste dress to Mary’s long brown hair which hung straight and shining to her shoulders. “You look so damned soft and otherworldly that most poeple wouldn’t ever guess you have a will of steel.” She looked across the room again. “Now that you’ve dragged me into your drab, do-gooder world, will you please let me reward myself by gazing in peace at that gorgeous man?”
 
Jake Darcy, Mary remembered. “Be my guest. I have no desire to disturb your libido in any fashion. But I’d be cautious about letting myself fall too much in lust with someone who’s involved with that creep Pallal.”
 
She turned and glanced at the table Karen was watching. Pallal’s back was turned to them, but Mary recognized his glossy black hair, his mud-green uniform with the scarlet braid. She shivered and her grasp tightened on her cup. Pallal was more than a creep—he was sinister, and the power he held as the head of the secret police made him positively terrifying.
 
Not that he could hurt her father, she thought quickly. Her stepmother had been a national of Said Ababa, but her father was an American. Though there were no diplomatic relations between the two countries, the Said Ababan government had always avoided antagonizing American residents and visitors.
 
“Well, doesn’t he look like a Regency rogue?” Karen asked.
 
“Your mad, bad Darcy?” Her gaze shifted to the man sitting across from Pallal and was immediately caught and held. Why, Jake Darcy didn’t look like a rogue at all. The only resemblance she could see to Byron were the gypsy-black curls he obviously tried to tame by the shortness of his haircut. His face was alight with laughter and, though his smile wasn’t meant for her, she instinctively found her lips curving in response. His well-shaped lips were big and mobile and his eyes, a deeper, keener blue than any she had ever seen, were set in a face bronzed dark gold by the same sun that had formed tiny laugh lines to fan those riveting eyes.
 
Now he had stopped laughing, but his lips were still quirking as he looked down at his lap. Mary had a side view of the man and of the blond woman next to him. She had rested her hand on his thigh to get his attention, and now, as Mary watched, he covered her hand with his own and began moving it back and forth on his thigh in an intimate caress.
 
Shock brought hot color to Mary’s cheeks. It was the most blatantly sexual act she had ever witnessed in public. She wasn’t a prude and heaven only knew that two years at Stanford should have made her shockproof, but there was something about the raw sensuality of the man that jolted her. Then Darcy turned to Pallal and, even as he continued to lazily rub the woman’s palm against his thigh, Mary could see him change. Cynicism now dominated his expression; his clear blue eyes were hard and cold. He looked tough, knowledgeable—and Mary could believe he was everything they said about him.
 
“Well?” Karen asked.
 
“Lord Byron.”
 
Karen giggled. “I told you.” She checked her watch. “I have to run. I have a hair appointment at three. Do you want a lift home?”
 
Mary shook her head. “I’ll finish my tea and then call a taxi.”
 
Karen stood and picked up her purse. “I’ll see you at the Parker dinner tonight?”
 
“Maybe. My dad’s been too busy to spend much time with me since I’ve been home. If I can catch him between appointments I’ll send Hajji home, fix my new California burrito supreme recipe and spend the evening with him.”
 
Karen shook her head. “Don’t you know we selfish materialistic women of the eighties aren’t supposed to be either affectionate or family-oriented?”
 
A radiant smile lit Mary’s face. “Sorry. My father is pretty special.”
 
For a moment the brittle sophistication slipped from Karen’s demeanor and she leaned forward and kissed Mary’s cheek. “And so’s his daughter. It’s about time you came home. I’ve missed you.” She straightened. “Well, if papa no-shows you, come to the dinner. You’ll be a breath of fresh air in that roomful of phonies.”
 
Mary watched Karen wend her way around the couples on the dance floor and then through the tables to the vestibule. She had missed Karen too while she was at school, but she knew she could never come back to this life when she graduated. No matter how privileged the life-style, living in a police state was not for her. Now that her stepmother was dead, surely her father could be persuaded to give up his interests here and go back to America.
 
Dammit, she didn’t like the fact that Colonel Pallal had been coming to see him so frequently. Her gaze involuntarily went again to Pallal’s table.
 
Jake Darcy was looking at her.
 
Mary’s eyes widened in surprise. Darcy wasn’t smiling. He was just staring at her intently, as if waiting for her to recognize him. Recognize? What a crazy impression to have received. She’d never seen the man in her life. She tried to pull her gaze away, and then found she didn’t want to look anywhere but at Jake Darcy. Seconds passed and she was still held in that force field of fascination.
 
Then he smiled at her, freely, joyously, and she found herself smiling back as she had before. She suddenly felt warm and treasured, as if she were wrapped in velvet. Crazy. It was all crazy. What the devil was she doing?
 
“Ah, your friend has left you. Could I persuade you to join us, Miss Harland?”
 
Mary looked up to see Colonel Pallal standing beside her chair and she unconsciously tensed. His nondescript, swarthy features revealed nothing but smiling politeness, but she could still sense the sleek menace beyond the courtesy. “Hello, Colonel Pallal.”
 
“My associate, Jake Darcy, is quite taken with you. He’s been plying me with any number of questions and he’d like an introduction. Will you join us?”
 
She deliberately kept herself from glancing across the room again. “I’m sorry. I have to leave now. Perhaps another time.”
 
Pallal’s smile faded. “Darcy is very important to me. I’d appreciate your cooperation.”
 
She met his gaze directly. “No.”
 
Pallal frowned. “You’re as stubborn as your father. He’s not been overly cooperative either.” He bowed. “I hope neither of you regret it. Good afternoon. Miss Harland.”