Impulse by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online Page A

buttocks.
    Marcus closed his eyes for a moment. “Paula, please, don’t. I do want to use that bottle. Call Merkel for me. I won’t be able to do a thing with you standing there.”
    Her fingers touched his inner thighs and he heard her draw in her breath. “Perhaps later then,” she said, and laughed. “You’re nice, Marcus, real nice.”
    She left the sheet down at his knees and he realized he didn’t have the strength to twist over and pull the damned thing back up. He was on the point of shouting, but fell silent as the grave at Merkel’s loud guffaw.
    “My, my, bare-assed. What did Paula do to you? Both your face and your ass are red. I can’t imagine you doing anything close to fun—” He laughed again, a big belly laugh. Marcus sighed. He’d tried for nearly fifteen months now to get a real live, spontaneous laugh out of Merkel. He’d tried every joke, Jackie Gleason gags, practical gags; all had failed. And now he’d done nothing but lie on his stomach with a sheet pulled down to his ankles, and Merkel was nearly in hysterics.
    Marcus wasn’t amused. His shoulder hurt, his stomach was roiling with nausea, and he felt like a jackass. He also wanted to relieve himself. He tried to push upward, and Merkel shut up, at least for the moment.
    A few moments later, Merkel gave the bottle to one of the silent-faced houseboys, who took it away withouta word. When Marcus was back on his stomach, the sheet up around his back, Merkel chuckled again.
    “You’re lucky old DeLorio didn’t waltz in when Paula was playing with you. He’d have had a fit. He’d have blamed you, even though any fool would know you couldn’t have moved even if that little blond, Joanie Fields, had waltzed in here.” He laughed again, enjoying his own mental conjuring scene.
    “You could have left my shorts on.”
    “You weren’t wearing any. Don’t you remember? Just those cut-offs and a T-shirt. Haymes didn’t care. To look in here and see you lying bare-assed.” More laughter, and Marcus gritted his teeth, regretting that he’d ever made a vow to get laughter out of the damned big silent stone. Another man he liked, another man who could be deadly.
    “Well, my boy, I see you finally got Merkel to crack. Quite an accomplishment, and, I should add, unexpected, considering your current state.”
    Merkel shut up the moment Dominick walked into the bedroom. He stood respectfully at attention, his expression now carefully blank.
    “Unless, of course, Merkel was laughing because he’s a closet sadist and is enjoying seeing you felled and wounded.”
    “Sir, of course not. Why, I—”
    “I know, Merkel,” Dominick interrupted him. “Let us alone for a bit. Two of our men are still a bit woozy. Check on them, then make sure Lacy’s got the others back to their duties. Ah, yes, the Dutchmen. I think we’ll let them fester in the tool shed for a while longer. I’d like to wait and have our hero of the hour, Marcus, with me before we question them. Have Dukey feed them, but not much.”
    “Yes, sir,” Merkel said, and left, not looking again at Marcus.
    “A fine soldier,” Dominick said absently, glancing after Merkel. “Well, my boy, you could be lookingbetter. On the other hand, you could also be looking dead, which wouldn’t give me any pleasure whatsoever. Is your head clear now?”
    “Yes. Tell me what happened. I thought Koerbogh and Van Wessel were all wrapped up. Who was this woman Tulp? She was the leader—I sensed that immediately when I saw them. What was she saying to you?”
    Dominick smiled gently and held up a narrow, quite beautiful hand. “I’ll tell you everything, just relax.”
    Marcus watched Dominick Giovanni ease his aristocratic body into the chair recently vacated by Paula and Merkel. He made it look like a throne. Strange, but it was true. There was something about Dominick, an aura, a communicated feeling that he knew about things and how to fashion them to his liking. His arm was bandaged