David Morrell - Burnt Sienna

Malone felt a terrible urgency. He had always been careful about what he said in the sunroom, assuming that Bellasar had microphones hidden there. A couple of times, he had pushed the boundary, hence Bellasar’s sudden appearances to assert his authority. But now as events spiraled out of control, Malone knew that no matter how guarded Sienna was being with him, he had to take the risk.

“Okay,” he said.

She looked puzzled, as if she had braced herself to keep resisting and hadn’t expected him to back off.

“If you’re not hurt, we can get to work. Your husband won’t like it if we waste time. In fact, I’ve already decided on the pose I want. We can skip doing further sketches. I’m going to start painting right away.”

As he spoke, he took her arm and guided her toward the back of the sunroom.

“What are you -”

But he cut her off. “I need to get some supplies from the storage room. Wait out here. I’ll just be a minute.”

In contradiction to what he said, however, he took Sienna with him.

Through a door in back – into the storage room.

It was small, damp, and faintly lit, crammed with painting supplies. There weren’t any windows.

“What are you doing?”

“Keep your voice down.” Malone shut the door, then guided her past easels and boxes toward a sink. He couldn’t be sure that the storage room wasn’t bugged. Given how cramped it was, Bellasar would probably have dismissed it as a place where conversations would be held. But just to make sure, Malone turned on the faucets, hoping that the sound of running water would obscure their voices. “I’m afraid there are microphones where we work.”

“Microphones?” As the idea struck her, Sienna gripped the sink.

“Tell me what he did to you.”

“ No . We have to get out of here. If Derek -”

“I can help you.”

“ No one can help me.”

“Please, let me try.”

They stood frozen, staring at each other. Slowly, she raised a finger toward his ravaged face. She almost touched his mangled lips. She traced an imaginary line around the stitches on his swollen cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Last night, when I saw what he’d done to you, I wanted to cry.”

“But what did he do to you ?”

Her eyes misted. She shook her head from side to side. “You’ve seen what Derek can be like. Don’t get involved in this.”

“I have to.”

After the most poignant look anyone had ever given him, Sienna bent slowly. Her hands trembled as she raised her skirt, first past her ankles, then past her shins.

Malone gaped at the bruises above her knees. Her thighs were a purple mass of them; they looked like beefsteak.

“Jesus,” he murmured.

In pain, she lowered the hem of her skirt back down to her ankles. Straightening, pulling the waistband slightly away from her body, she showed him where the angry-looking bruises continued to the top of her hips.

“What the hell did he -”

“The man Derek was meeting barely noticed me.” Sienna shuddered. “In fact, he couldn’t wait for me to leave. It was the first time that had ever happened. When Derek came back to our suite at three in the morning, he was furious. It was my fault, he said, that the negotiation had almost fallen through. He told me I was useless to him, that he could barely stand to look at me, that…”

Malone touched her arm. “Easy. You don’t have to put yourself through it again.”

“For the first time since I’ve known him, he made a fist to hit me. It was like I was back in Milan five years ago with the boyfriend who beat me up.” She flinched, as if seeing the fist again. “Then he looked shocked, realizing what he was doing. The one thing I thought I could always count on was that he’d never hurt me. All of a sudden, he started kicking me, the way he’d kick a football, the tips of his shoes coming at me. He chose a spot where the bruises wouldn’t show – above the hem of my dress. I tried to defend myself, to get behind a table, but he kept coming at me, kicking, and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor. He wouldn’t stop. If it hadn’t been for Alex coming in, I’m afraid he might have -”

“Where is Alex? Why didn’t he return with you and Derek?”

“He stayed in Istanbul. Something to do with the negotiations. Some trick Derek has him up to as a way of putting pressure on the man he’s dealing with. He’s coming back this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?”

Sienna frowned. “You make it sound important. Why?”

“I have to explain something.”

“No. If Derek doesn’t see some progress… I realize I look like hell, but this isn’t a photograph – it’s a portrait. You can fake it. You can make me look as beautiful as -”

“Listen to me.”

“ Please . I don’t want to be kicked again. I don’t want -”

“Don’t worry.” Malone’s voice hardened. “If I have anything to do about it, your husband’s never going to kick you again. No one is.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I can get you out of here, will you go with me? Will you take the chance to escape?”

And there it was. The words, so long restrained, were finally free. He couldn’t turn back. He held his breath, fearing her reaction. If he’d misjudged her, if she was uncontrollably dominated by Bellasar to the point where she could never imagine going against him, he had just guaranteed that he’d soon be dead. She would look at him in dismay. She would accuse him of having misjudged her. She would tell Bellasar.

“Escape?” Sienna made the word sound like nonsense. “Have you lost your mind?”

Jesus, I made the wrong choice, Malone thought. I just threw my life away.

“It isn’t possible to escape,” she said.

“What?” Malone shook his head in confusion. If she was going to turn against him, this wasn’t what he had expected.

“Don’t you think I’ve considered it? Don’t you think I would have done it if I could have found a way?”

“You’ll come with me?”

“ How? Where ? Even if we could get out of here, Derek would never rest until he found us. He’d use all his power and money, every resource at his disposal, to track us down.”

But we wouldn’t be alone, Malone wanted to tell her. If we can get out of here, we’ll have all the help we could ever want. He didn’t dare say it. If she thought he was a spy, if she thought he had come here to use her…

“We have to take the chance,” he said.

“We can’t! Look, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to risk your life for me. Complete the portrait and leave.”

“And what about you ?”

“I’ve been taking care of myself since I was twelve. I survived what Derek did to me in Istanbul, and I’ll survive worse as long as he tolerates me. But I’ll never survive if he finds out I’ve betrayed him.”

“Listen to me.” Malone hesitated. There wasn’t an easy way to say this. “He’s planning to have you killed.”

“What?”

“He’s been married three times before.”

“What are you talking about?”

“All of his wives were beautiful. But when they got to be around thirty and started to show signs of aging, they died in various accidents.”

Sienna’s mouth opened, but she seemed to have lost the power of speech.

“Before each accident, your husband hired a prominent artist to do a portrait of each woman – to memorialize her after death, to have a trophy, to make her beauty permanent. Now it’s your turn.”

“I don’t… How on earth do you know this?”

“Some of it I heard from the other artists,” Malone lied. “The rest of it… We don’t have time for me to explain. There’s a room on the third level. In the middle hallway. About halfway along on the left.”