That comment earned him some serious side-eye. “I think we’d better save our energy.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What if this is our last night on earth?”
“Not funny, Tony.”
“I mean it.”
She’d been occupied with putting her luggage in the closet, but now she turned around and stared at him, hands on her hips. “Do you really think we’re doomed to failure? Why’d you come along, then?”
Oops. He got up from the bed and went over to her, pulled her into his arms. She offered just the slightest resistance at first, but then relaxed into his embrace, her head against his chest.
“I don’t think we’re doomed to failure,” he said. “And you’re right — we should be getting our rest tonight, because God only knows what’s going to happen tomorrow.”
“Exactly.” She was quiet for a moment, head still resting on him, silky strands of her hair brushing against the backs of his hands as he held her. “Don’t think I don’t — don’t want you.” The words came out quickly, as if she was embarrassed to state such a thing so baldly. “But it’s been a very long day, and tomorrow could be crazy. We need to rest.”
He brushed his mouth against the top of her head. “I know. Kiss me, though — that’ll be a down payment for later.”
A low chuckle escaped her lips, seemed to resonate in his body. “I can do that.”
She pulled away a little, raised her face to his. They kissed, and he could feel blood rushing through him, could feel himself stiffen at her touch. No time for that, though…or rather, plenty of time, not enough energy. Now that they were someplace safe, he realized how tired he really was. They’d made love the previous two nights; it was okay if they skipped tonight.
After all, they would have the rest of their lives to be together…if they survived the next twenty-four hours.
Tony’s regular breathing told Cassandra he slept deeply. Good. She needed him to get his rest.
She should be sleeping, too, but even though she knew the importance of a good night’s sleep, she couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t find the right position that would magically induce slumber.
It wasn’t the bed’s fault; it was just as comfortable as any of the other hotel beds she’d slept on since this whole crazy adventure began. No, her damn mind kept racing, picking at the problem of confronting the Escobars, despite her conscious realization that there was only so much preparation they could do when they were flying blind.
At least she hadn’t felt the presence of any other witches or warlocks in the airport, or during their drive across the city, or here in the tall condominium building where the Airbnb was located. That didn’t necessarily mean much, since generally she needed to be within ten or fifteen feet of a person before she was able to detect that they were of witch-kind, but it was something. For all she knew, the Escobars reigned supreme in El Salvador, having rid the country of any other rival clans years before. It seemed to fit their M.O., but again, she was working on very sketchy information at best.
If that was true — and the Escobar clan remained mostly in their village of Pico Negro — then there was a good chance they might not be able to detect the two interlopers until she and Tony were very close by. After all, witches and warlocks tended to stay in their home territories. It was mostly unheard of for them to venture into another clan’s area without permission…especially a clan as bloodthirsty as the Escobars.
All right, say that luck was finally in their favor, and they were somehow able to get the drop on the Salvadoran clan. The first order of business would be to locate where the books had been taken. Cassandra guessed they would probably be kept in the house that belonged to the primus. After hearing of how Joaquin Escobar had taken over the Santiagos, how his son had wanted to do the same thing to the Castillos, she was under no illusions that the Escobar witch family would be run by a prima.
And if the books were in the primus’s house, then they’d have to make damn sure he was nowhere around when she and Tony went to steal them back. How that would work, she wasn’t really sure, but she assumed they’d have to do their best at hiding in the area, close enough to see who was coming and going but not so close that any of the Escobar witches and warlocks could sense their presence.
Easier said than done, probably, but she couldn’t think of what else they might do. Too bad neither of their powers was turning invisible.
She went quite still then, eyes widening as she stared up at the dark blur of the ceiling above her.
Maybe not invisible…but what about invincible?
Her power created a shield that protected anything inside it. Although she couldn’t cast that shield on herself, there was no reason why she couldn’t cast it on Tony. That way, even if the Escobars were able to detect his presence, there wasn’t a damn thing they could do to hurt him as long as the shield was in effect. And since a shield remained in place until she consciously removed it, there didn’t seem to be much chance of the magical barrier disappearing at exactly the wrong moment.
Well, unless one of the Escobars turned out to be a null like Joaquin had been. That would definitely make the situation much more difficult. No, she didn’t want to think about that. The odds of the Escobar clan having another person with that peculiar talent had to be astronomically high. At least, she needed to think that was the truth, because otherwise, how would they have any hope of success? The presence of a null would stop them faster than anything else.
“Hey,” Tony whispered, and she rolled over onto her side to see him staring at her.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“It’s all right.” He reached over and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. “Can’t sleep?”
“My brain won’t leave me alone. It’s getting annoying.”
In the darkness, his teeth gleamed in a smile. “Maybe I should try to tire you out.”
“Tony, I — ”
She’d been about to say, I’m not sure that’s a good idea, but she didn’t get the opportunity because his mouth was on hers, still tasting of toothpaste, and his body pressed up against her as well. She could feel him hard against her leg, and a thrill of desire went through her.
Maybe her body knew something her brain didn’t.
Her fingers were pulling at the waistband of his boxer briefs, and he caught hold of the T-shirt she’d worn to bed and pulled it up and over her head. Then his hands were on her bare breasts, caressing, before he bent and ran his tongue over her nipple. She gasped and buried her fingers in his thick hair, holding on to him as he suckled her…another moan escaping her lips when his hand slid inside her panties and began to stroke her.
“Damn it, Tony,” she moaned.
For a second, he paused so he could look up into her face. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Don’t you dare.”
He chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”
In the next second, he’d slid down her panties and tossed them over the side of the bed, then kissed his way down her stomach, his tongue touching her. She grabbed one of the pillows to cover her mouth because if she cried out as loudly as she wanted to, she feared they might be able to hear it in the condo next door. God damn, he was good.
She came hard, all but screaming into the pillow, her body arching as the orgasm rippled its way through her. Then she felt Tony pull the pillow away, toss it over to one side. He caught hold of her, picked her up so she was straddling him, his cock buried deep within her.
Oh, yes, that was good, too. More than good. She rode him, let him fill her, deeper and deeper, as if every thrust, every movement, only cemented the bond between them. Now she understood how important it was for them to do this, how vital it was that she and Tony reaffirmed their connection, made certain it was as strong and as sure as it could be so they’d be ready to face whatever happened the next day. Her fingers twined in his and held on as they both built toward the inevitable climax, this time hitt
ing them almost simultaneously, her moans and his groans blending together until she couldn’t quite tell who was giving a voice to their ecstasy.
At last she fell over onto her side of the bed, breath coming quickly as she recited the McAllister charm in her mind. Her right hand was still clenched in Tony’s left, and they lay there like that for a long moment, their breath coming in gasps.
“I hope you didn’t mind that,” he said at last.
“‘Mind’?’ she repeated incredulously. “Did I sound like I minded?”
He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her, eyes glinting in the semidarkness. “Well, no, but after everything you said about getting some rest — ”
She swatted half-heartedly at his arm. “So I was wrong. Sue me.”
“Nah, I can think of better things to do than that.”
Before she could reply, he bent down and kissed her, not to invite another round of lovemaking, but with a sort of amused gentleness, as if he’d known damn well how this evening was going to end up. She kissed him back, then got out of bed and went to the bathroom to get herself cleaned up. When she got back to the bed, he was already half asleep, the gentlest of snores emerging from his parted lips. Since she didn’t want to wake him up, she settled for blowing a kiss at him in the darkness, then sank down next to him, pillow in exactly the right position under her cheek.
In the next minute, she was asleep.
16
They ended up renting a four-wheel-drive Toyota truck, mostly because the man at the rental agency had shaken his head and told Cassandra in rapid-fire Spanish, “Where you’re going, you’ll need four-wheel-drive.”
Which was why she was driving now — El Salvador obviously didn’t have any regulations about self-piloting cars, unlike the United States, which mandated their use on the highway — with Tony doing his best to navigate with his phone from the passenger seat. At least their carrier had a signal here, which was a minor miracle neither one of them wanted to investigate too closely.
She’d grown up with four-wheel-drive, had been off-roading since before she even had a learner’s permit. Tony had just sort of shrugged helplessly when she asked him if he wanted to get behind the wheel, then said, “I’ve always been more of a sports car kind of guy.”
In town, the roads were in very good repair, better than some parts of Tucson she could mention. Now, though, barely five miles outside San Salvador, the asphalt had already deteriorated into a mass of potholes, although at least the road was still paved.
Sort of.
There hadn’t been a direct route from San Salvador to San Matías, mostly because there was a volcano in the way. They’d decided to head north out of the capital city rather than take the more well-traveled highway that went west first before jogging back toward their destination, since it seemed like the most direct route. Based on the condition of the road, Cassandra was starting to question that decision. But since they were already going this way, there wasn’t much they could do except continue grimly forward.
“At least it’s a nice day,” Tony said, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
Because on top of everything else, the truck’s A/C was only working intermittently. It was still better to have it on than not; opening a window wasn’t really an option, thanks to all the mosquitoes and other flying insects she really didn’t want to identify.
“Define ‘nice,’” she muttered, swerving the truck around yet another pothole. Even inside the truck with partial air conditioning, the humidity felt like an oppressive force all on its own. She supposed you would get used to it after all, but of course, they didn’t intend to stay here long enough for that to be an issue.
A bus was coming down the highway from the other direction, an ancient, rusty piece of machinery that looked like it was probably older than both she and Tony combined. It was massive, leaning partly into her lane because there wasn’t enough room for it on its side of the road.
“Shit,” she muttered, and pulled over to the shoulder, feeling the truck bounce and shudder as it went over a truly impressive series of ruts.
But then they had passed the monstrosity, and the road was theirs again. Tony glanced back at the bus as it disappeared around a curve and shook his head. “Guess they don’t have the NTSB here, huh?”
“Doubtful.”
Cassandra realized she was clutching the steering wheel much harder than she needed to, and released her grip slightly. Yes, she’d driven on terrain that would make your teeth rattle, but that had just been her and her father’s Jeep versus the washboard, rock-strewn Forest Service roads near the house where she’d grown up. It wasn’t quite the same as having a bus the size of a whale barreling down at you at fifty miles an hour.
That encounter was the only incident of note on their route, however, and about forty minutes later, they came to the outskirts of San Matías, a pretty little village that, Cassandra realized with some shame, looked far more civilized than she’d been expecting, with its neat whitewashed houses and streets that were far better paved than the highway they’d just traversed.
“What now?” Tony asked, looking around with interest.
“I guess we park somewhere and see if we can find a place to ask a few questions. Maybe a restaurant.”
“We ate breakfast only an hour and a half ago,” he pointed out.
“I know,” she replied. “We’ll order coffee or something.”
This answer seemed to mollify him, because he shrugged and resumed his inspection of the streets outside. “What about there?” he asked, jerking a thumb toward a smallish building on a corner, its walls painted a warm ochre tone, vines climbing everywhere.
The sign over the door said, “Restaurante,” followed by “Antojitos y Comidas Mexicana,” so it seemed like they were in the right spot. There were even a couple of cars parked next to it on the street, seeming to indicate that the place served some kind of breakfast.
“Works for me,” Cassandra said, driving past the restaurant until she found an open place next to the curb for their rented truck.
As she climbed out, though, she found her heart beating a little more quickly. San Matías might not be a stronghold of the Escobars, but it was close enough that she knew she and Tony were now in what you could call enemy territory. The mere thought made a chill move through her, despite the warm, humid air that surrounded them, and she took a deep breath. No way could she allow herself to lose it now, not when they were this close.
There was no need to tell Tony that she would do all the talking, since his Spanish was about restaurant menu–level and nothing more than that. In silence, they went inside the building. It was small but clean, with six rectangular wooden tables arranged in the space and the same warm-toned paint as the exterior on the walls. A wooden counter stood at the far end, with several stools arranged along its length. Behind the counter was a woman in her late thirties probably, rounded and pretty, her sleek black hair pulled back into a leather clasp.
“¿Puedo ayudarte?” she asked politely.
“Dos cafés, por favor,” Cassandra replied.
“Sit anywhere,” the woman said in Spanish. “It will be a few minutes.”
Cassandra smiled and thanked her, and went with Tony to sit down at one of the empty tables. Despite the cars parked outside, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the restaurant; maybe the cars belonged to the people who worked there.
He glanced around, one eyebrow cocked at an inquisitive angle. “It looks innocuous enough.”
“Well, this isn’t where our friends actually live,” Cassandra said. “They just come into the village from time to time. Or at least, that’s the story.”
“Still.”
The woman who’d been working behind the counter — Cassandra couldn’t tell for sure whether she was the owner or just the person who happened to be on duty this morning — came over to them, a heavy white stoneware mug in either hand. Even though they’d had excellent coffee earlier that morning i
n their Airbnb, this smelled even better.
Cassandra took her mug from the woman and said, “Muchas gracías.”
Across the table, Tony waggled his eyebrows at her, apparently his signal for her to start asking questions.
All right. She still didn’t know exactly what she should say, since coming right out and asking about a witch clan in the area probably wasn’t going to earn her any points. Maybe it was better to be blunt, or at least not try to dance around the name of the place they were looking for.
“Do you know of a place called Pico Negro?” she inquired in Spanish. “A friend of mine is a nature photographer, and he said there was some spectacular scenery out that way.”
Almost as soon as the words “Pico Negro” left Cassandra’s lips, the woman’s eyes widened.
“No lo sé,” she said, then shot a frightened glance over one shoulder.
On instinct, Cassandra looked in the same direction the woman had been looking, but she couldn’t see anything. They were alone in the restaurant.
“You’re sure?” she asked. “My friend made it sound as if it wasn’t very far from here.”
The woman pressed her lips together. “I know nothing about that.” Voice lowering, she went on, “You should go. They don’t like people asking about them.”
“Who doesn’t like it?” Cassandra pressed, even though she was fairly certain of the answer.
“No one. I should not have spoken. Just go. The coffee is free.”
“But — ”
“¡Vayanse!”
Even Tony seemed to understand the meaning of that word…or maybe the vehemence in the woman’s voice was enough to provide the necessary context. He shot a questioning look at Cassandra, and she said, “She wants us to go. Guess I asked the wrong question.”
Although she knew the woman wasn’t capable of throwing them bodily out of the restaurant, it also didn’t seem like a very good idea to insist on staying, not when she appeared so agitated. Besides, it appeared pretty obvious that she wasn’t going to provide the information they needed. The best thing to do would be to keep looking for someone who might be a little more open to communication.
An Ill Wind Page 19