A drug? That was a semi-credible possibility. But again, why? He knew no military codes he could think of, no nuclear bomb secrets, no classified missile locations, no top secret plans for the destruction of the world. His thoughts wandered back to Summer’s magnificent beauty. Then he finally forced his mind back to the reality of the moment, closing the tap and stepping out of the shower stall. He slipped a robe over his broad shoulders and, returning to the bedroom, placed a damp washcloth over the girl’s forehead, noting with a tinge of sadistic pleasure that she would wear a healthy-looking bruise on her jaw in the morning.
He shook Summer roughly by both shoulders. Slowly, reluctantly, not wanting to part with the contentment of oblivion, and murmuring incoherently in a soft voice, her big gray eyes crept open. Awaking in a strange place would have startled most women. Not Summer. She was tough. Pitt could almost see the circuits of her mind burst into sudden operation. Her eyes darted about the room, first to Pitt, then to the door, to the balcony, and back to Pitt again. She stared at him casually, but a little too casually to be genuine. Then she raised her hand and lightiy touched her jaw, wincing at the contact.
“You hit me?” It was more a question than a statement.
“Yes.” He grinned. “And now that I have you on home ground, I think I’ll rape you.”
At last her eyes came wide. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“How do you know I haven’t already?”
She almost fell for it; her hand began moving down across her lower stomach and then suddenly stopped.
“You’re not that perverted.”
“Who said I was?”
She looked at Pitt in a very peculiar way. “I was told . . .” She stopped herself and avoided his eyes.
“You should be more careful,” Pitt said reproachfully. “Believing nasty old rumors and running up and down Waikiki Beach jabbing hypodermic needles into defenseless men can get you into a heap of trouble.”
She stared at him for a few seconds, her lips moving as if she were about to reply, but uncertainty slowly welled in those fantastic gray eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“No matter.” Pitt turned his back on her and reached for a telephone. “I’ll let the police figure your game. That’s what honest citizens like me pay them for.”
“A mistake.” Her voice suddenly turned hard and cold. “I’ll scream rape and with these marks on my face, who will they believe, you or me?”
Pitt picked up the telephone and began punching the numbered buttons. “There’s not the slightest doubt that they’d believe you. That is, until Adrian Hunter testifies in my defense. She probably has a few marks of her own.” Pitt turned his attention to the phone. The voice that answered on the other end of the line surrendered after the fifth hello and hung up. At the dial tone, Pitt said “Hello, I’d like to report an assault ...”
That was as far as he got Summer leaped off the bed and pushed the receiver down. “Please, you don’t understand.” Her voice was low and desperate.
“That’s the understatement of the evening,” Pitt said angrily. He grabbed her by the shoulders, squeezing hard and staring unblinking, only a few inches from her widening pupils. “Kick a man in the balls and jam a hypodermic needle into his back and then act like little Miss Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm when you screw up. Just what in hell is your game?”
She started to struggle, then relaxed almost immediately. “You gangster.” Her voice was a savage whisper.
The obsolete expression caught Pitt off guard. Slowly he released his hold and stepped back. “That’s me, one of big Al Capone’s torpedoes, fresh off the boat from Chicago.”
“I wish to heaven I’d...” She broke off and crossed her arms and massaged the reddening skin on her shoulders. “You are a devil.”
Pitt felt no hate in return, only a touch of remorse as he noted the angry masses of red welts where his fingers had dug into her flesh.
There was a long pause before she spoke. “I’ll tell you what you wish to know.” Despite the subtle change in tone, there was nothing soft in the coldness in her eyes. “But first, could you help me to the bathroom. I feel... I think I’m going to be sick.”
Pitt extended his hand and grabbed her wrist, feeling her muscles tighten under his grip. Suddenly she braced one foot against the railing of the bed and threw every ounce of her slender body into a shoulder block to Pitt’s stomach. She caught him off balance; he fell backward over a chair, crashing to the floor and taking the bedstand lamp with him. Pitt had hardly collided with the shag carpet when Summer jerked open the sliding door and vanished out onto the balcony.
Pitt made no effort to rise, but leaned back and relaxed into a more comfortable position on the floor. Ten seconds passed. He could hold it back no longer; he began to laugh. “Next time you exit a man’s tenth-floor apartment, you’d best carry a parachute.”
She slowly stepped back into the bedroom, her lovely face livid with rage. “There is an evil word for you.”
“I can think of at least a dozen,” he said, smiling politely.
She moved to the other side of the room, putting as much space as the room allowed between them, and lowered herself into a chair, her eyes exploring his. “If I answer your questions, what then?”
“Nothing,” Pitt said quietly. “When you tell a story I can swallow without gagging, you’re free to leave.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“My dear girl, I’m not the Boston Strangler or Jack the Ripper, and I assure you, I’m not in the habit of abducting innocent virgins from Waikiki Beach.”