Tender Savage Read Online Free PDF Page A

and touching the curls falling over his forehead. She could see no trunk for personal possessions, no books, nothing to distract the mind from the deprivation to which Jurado had condemned his prisoner. Ricardo had said he wasn’t even allowed pencil and paper, she remembered.
    “How do you stand it here?” she asked abruptly.
    Ricardo’s glance shifted from the guard to her face. “This is the luxury suite compared to where they put me when I first came here. Jurado thinks he’s pampering me at the moment. Every evening they take me down the hall to the bathroom and let me take a shower. I get to wash my clothes twice a week. They feed me once a day. What more could a man ask?”
    “There’s nothing to do.”
    He smiled. “They can’t keep me from thinking. I plan campaigns, do memory exercises. I even compose poems.”
    “The poet-warrior,” she murmured.
    He made a face. “Media hype.”
    “The media certainly loves you,” she agreed.
    “Publicity helps the revolution. I have friends and backers in America and Europe who see that everyone knows what’s going on here.” His lips thinned. “You’d be surprised how few countries are willing to supply arms to the junta now that the spotlight of public opinion has been focused on places like the Abbey. Two years ago every cellhere was filled. Now Jurado only chances holding a favored few for his entertainment.”
    “So you let your backers exploit you.”
    “It’s a small price to pay.” He was silent a moment. “When I was a student at the university, I wanted to be a poet. I could see myself doing nothing for the rest of my life but writing beautiful words that would shake the world.”
    “Some people would say that your book did shake the world.”
    “Some people. Not you.”
    “I’ve never read your book. Not my cup of tea.”
    “What
is
your cup of tea, Lara?”
    “I’ve never wanted to shake the world. I just want something of my own to hold on to. Someday I’m going to live in a small town and have a home by a lake and lots of dogs and a few close friends.” She looked down at the floor. “I’m not the type of person who would ever start a revolution.”
    “I think you’re wrong.”
    Her gaze lifted swiftly to see the faintest smile indenting the corners of Ricardo’s lips as he said,“It’s not the rabble-rousers who form the foundation of a revolution; it’s the silent majority. If wood is ready to burn, it takes only a spark.”
    “And you think I’d take only a spark?”
    He gazed at her thoughtfully. “I think a woman who would rush headlong into a situation like this has enough fire to set an entire country ablaze.”
    She swallowed and looked quickly across the room at the guard, who had completed the splicing and was plugging the cord into the socket. “He’s almost done. We’ll have to be careful what we say from now on.”
    “We haven’t said anything that Jurado couldn’t hear.”
    She realized with astonishment that what he said was true. Their conversation had been casual, almost impersonal, and yet she felt as if every word had been charged with meaning and intimacy.
    “What do we do now?”
    “Wait.”
    She slowly leaned back against the stucco wall.“I’m not very good at composing mental poems and I have a terrible memory. Can we talk?”
    His gaze had shifted back to the guard. “If I don’t have to look at you. Where the hell did you get that gown?”
    Scorching heat flowed over her again. “They gave it to me at the infirmary after they … examined me.”
    “Oh, yes, the examination.” Ricardo’s clasped fingers tightened until the knuckles turned white.
    “Did they hurt you?”
    “No, but they weren’t exactly clinical.” She laughed shakily. “They scared me.”
    The guard replaced the microphone on the shelf and switched it on. Without looking at either of them, he turned on his heel and strode from the cell.
    Lara gazed in fascination at the small black box. She felt suddenly