The Ninth Orphan by Morcan James && Morcan Lance

Author:Morcan, James && Morcan, Lance
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780473193133
Publisher: Sterling Gate Books
Published: 2011-08-19T07:00:00+00:00

28

It was dusk before Nine returned to his hotel. Not wanting to push his luck, he’d long since discarded his femme fatale guise and now resembled a caretaker complete with overalls, cap and boots which he’d uplifted from an unattended locker room at some inner city building site. Carrying the spoils of another shopping spree in half a dozen bags, he entered the hotel via the same side door he’d used that morning.

In his room, he found Isabelle asleep on the bed he’d left her tied to. He noted the trails of tears that streaked her cheeks. The fugitive agent emptied the contents of his shopping bags onto a bench, waking his hostage in the process. Isabelle emerged from a fitful sleep. Half awake, she still had the presence of mind to observe the items Nine had brought back. They included food, more clothes, a newspaper, weapons and ammunition.

Nine walked over to Isabelle, ripped the masking tape from her mouth then untied her hands and legs. His feisty hostage immediately spat in his face.

The operative looked at her impassively as he wiped the spittle off his cheek. “I can't blame you for that,” he said softly. He nearly gagged as a pungent sulphurous smell filled his nostrils. Sniffing the air, he realized it was urine. Nine pulled back the bedcovers to see Isabelle had been unable to hold on. Her pajamas and the bedding were soaked. Nine had known when he left her that morning this was likely to happen. Even so, he felt sorry.

Isabelle sat up slowly. Stiff and sore after being tied up all day, she grabbed a change of clothes and shuffled through to the bathroom where she showered.

Five minutes later, she emerged fully dressed. She stared straight at Nine who was sitting on the couch reading a newspaper. He studiously ignored her, mainly to hide the continued embarrassment he felt at having further humiliated her.

“You’re not used to being around women are you?” she said coldly in English. Nine didn’t respond. His aloofness infuriated her. “No woman would ever want to stay with you,” she shouted in French this time. “You're a sadistic American bastard!” She threw her urine-soaked pajamas at him.

Ignoring her anger, Nine held up the newspaper in front of her. Isabelle became subdued when she saw her own face on the front page. A headline above the photo read: Former Member of Parliament's Daughter Abducted.

Isabelle took the newspaper from him and began reading the article. “My poor family.” She began reading the article.

Nine studied Isabelle curiously. He thought it unusual her first thought was for others despite her own dire circumstances. Personally, he’d never cared for anyone enough to worry about them like that. Isabelle’s thoughtfulness spoke volumes about her character. Even in a crisis, she worried about others ahead of herself. As always, Nine kept his thoughts to himself.

When Isabelle finished reading, she dropped the newspaper and fell to her knees before Nine. “Please. Let me contact my father,” she pleaded. “He will help me.

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