by Anne Stuart
And from what he’d seen of Frazer and the woman, it didn’t seem likely they were going to spend the night between the sheets. At least, not together.
It wouldn’t take much to disguise himself. He’d be waiting at Jaime’s, and if Frazer didn’t show up he’d head on over to the Hungry Dog. Frazer wouldn’t recognize him, and the girl wouldn’t know enough to be careful. Maybe he could find the answer from her and go straight for the kill.
But life was seldom that simple for a hardworking man, El Gallito thought wearily. He was prepared to do it the hard way. For San Pablo.
For Cabral.
And mostly for himself.
CHAPTER FOUR
MISS BLANCHE MAGNOLIA BROWN was sound asleep in the seat beside him, no mean feat considering the state of San Pablo roads and the lack of shocks on his Jeep. She started out by faking it, probably because she didn’t want to have to talk to him anymore, but eventually it slipped into real sleep, and she curled up in the ratty front seat of his disreputable vehicle, bouncing with every jolt.
Her hair was coming out of that tight-assed little knot, curling around her forehead. And speaking of tight-assed. He was still dazed by the sight of her in that get-up she slept in. For once in his life he’d been struck dumb, unable to come up with a fast comment or a lewd remark, and damn, did that woman deserve a lewd remark. Especially considering the way she reacted to the least little comment on his part.
But the sight of her standing there in that skimpy sex kitten outfit had knocked him sideways with emotions he couldn’t even begin to sort through.
It wasn’t as if he weren’t damned well used to sex, to skimpy clothing, to any and all forms of titillation. Anyone else wearing that jungle outfit would have raised an appreciative physical response but nothing more.
But Maggie Brown hit him a lot harder than that. It was the contradiction. The touch-me-not coating of ice around her, the flinty eyes, the soft mouth, the way she had of meeting him toe-to-toe while part of her was shivering with some kind of reaction.
He couldn’t figure her out. Was she cold as ice, or vulnerable in ways that were far too tempting? He shouldn’t even be thinking about it.
He knew what he was going to do—it was much too important to get Miss Maggie Brown as far away from her missing sister as was physically possible. If he had to kidnap her, drug her, sleep with her, or dump her on the bandits’ doorstep, he had to do what needed to be done to keep her from interfering. In the end she might forgive him.
Or maybe not.
It didn’t really matter. Once everything was taken care of Miss Maggie Brown could throw any kind of hissy fit she wanted. He hit a particularly deep pothole, and she jolted awake for a brief moment, her rich brown eyes staring up at him dazedly. She closed them quickly, obviously not cheered by what she saw, and a moment later she was asleep again, or doing a good job of faking it.
She probably faked orgasms, too, he thought coolly. She probably did it with another banker, beneath the covers and in the dark of night, and thought that was all there was to life. He’d be more than happy to broaden her horizons, given half a chance.
She wasn’t going to give him half a chance, though. Sure, she had a way of looking at him when she thought he didn’t notice, but it wasn’t particularly female admiration. It was more the fascinated expression of a quivering brown mouse confronted by a hungry boa constrictor.
Six days. Six days till she got on that plane back home. He could manage to kill six days on the road in San Pablo. Mind you, it was one hell of a small country, but the roads were so awful it made travel dangerous and endless, and after living here for more than five years he knew almost every back road and dirt track and goat path in the country. Even avoiding the mountains, he’d have enough to keep her occupied. Besides, she clearly had no idea what kind of situation she’d gotten herself into.
He should feel guilty, if not about Maggie then about her dying mother. And he did feel guilty—there was just enough decency left in his worthless hide to feel regret that the senior Mrs. Brown wouldn’t get to see Stella before she bit the bullet.
Then again, people had a habit of outliving everyone’s direst predictions. In the meantime, he was in the unpleasant position of having to play God, and he was making his choices. In the scheme of things, one dying old lady didn’t mean a hell of a lot.
And one starched-up, neurotic young woman didn’t mean much, either. So he felt a passing amount of lust for her. He’d have to be half-dead not to react to that outfit she slept in.
But then, if he was honest, he’d lusted after her from the moment she marched into Miguel’s cantina with her suit and her high-heeled shoes. He’d peered at her from under his hat and almost wanted to crawl out the back door. He knew trouble when he saw it, and she had his name written all over her.
He could have bailed. Found someone else to take his place. He’d been at loose ends, waiting for the week-long elections to conclude, and he’d jumped at the chance to do something other than wait. Anyway, it had been his idea to come after her in the first place. All he had to do was make a few calls and someone else would be commissioned to take her on a wild-goose chase and he could have been free.
He was a man who did his damnedest to avoid doing things he didn’t want to do, and yet he had no intention of leaving Magnolia Brown to anyone else’s tender mercies. Besides, he’d promised The Professor he’d take care of it. It was the least he could do.
“Are we ever going to stop?” Her plaintive voice took him by surprise. So she hadn’t been asleep after all.
He glanced over at her. “Why?”
“I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count,” she shot back. “Besides, I’m starving.”
He pulled off to the side of the road, no mean feat considering how narrow and rutted it was. “There you go, kid. And you thought I wasn’t amenable.”
“You don’t want to know what I think of you,” she muttered, glancing toward the copse of trees. He waited for her to ask about a town, a bathroom, but she simply climbed out of the Jeep and headed toward the trees.
He waited until she disappeared into the small grove, waited just long enough, and then called out, “Watch out for snakes.”
He expected to see her back at the Jeep in a matter of moments, white-faced, breathless, her clothes hastily pulled together. To his surprise she emerged from the woods several minutes later, calmly strolling back to the Jeep as if she had all the time in the world.
“Nice try,” she said when she reached him. “I had a pet snake when I was a child. They don’t scare me.”
“There are some sandwiches in the back if you’re hungry,” he said, climbing out of the Jeep. “Some bottled water as well.”
“Where are you going?”
He grinned at her. “I’m not afraid of snakes, either.”
* * *
THEY REACHED THE OUTSKIRTS of the capital city by nightfall, a neat trick considering it was only forty-three miles away from Las Cruces. The roads alone would have killed half the day, and his circuitous route took care of the rest of the time. He drove through the countryside around the city, planning to come in from the north for no other reason than to disorient her. Besides, the inn he had in mind was so disreputable he was pretty sure she’d refuse to go there if she thought there was any alternative. He didn’t intend to give her any.
She was silent as they drove past the outskirts of the city, past the slums and the graffiti-bedecked buildings that were Generalissimo Cabral’s idea of affordable housing. She didn’t realize he was watching her, as her face grew still and her eyes grew wider.
He pulled up outside Elena’s place. “I’ll get you settled first before I go out looking for information. Whether you like it or not I think we’d better share a room. This isn’t the safest part of town.”
She glanced at the tumbled-down hotel. “Then why are we here?”
“I told you, informers don’t hang out in the tourist sections. B
esides, you’ve never experienced a country until you’ve seen where the real people live.”
“I’m sure the ones who live in the mansions near the airport are just as real as these people are.”
“They’re part of the military government. More robot than human,” he drawled, climbing out of the car and grabbing his suitcase. Deliberately making no effort to take hers. He wanted to see if she’d ask him to, or if she’d try to make it on her own.
She slid out the other side, grabbed her suitcase without hesitation and started after him. “I’m sure I’ll be just fine in my own room,” she said calmly. “I have faith in the inherent goodness of people.”
“Then you came to the wrong country. Poverty puts quite a dent in people’s sense of hospitality.”
“Nevertheless…”
“Nevertheless you’ll do as I say. That’s what you promised, before I took you off on this ridiculous journey.”
“When it was a matter of safety, yes, but I don’t think—”
“I’m not interested in what you think, Maggie. I doubt there’s a single place that’s safe in all of San Pablo right now, what with the elections, and the slums of its capital are probably the worst. You’ll do as I say or I’ll dump you here and let you fend for yourself.”
“And what makes you think I can’t do just that?”
“Because you don’t speak the language and you don’t have a gun. And because you may terrorize the bankers in Philadelphia but you aren’t going to frighten a San Pablo pussycat. You’re powerless here, sugar, and you need me. I thought you’d accepted that fact.”
He didn’t expect her to admit it, and she didn’t. But she stopped arguing, following him into the dimly lit entrance of the hotel without a word.
“Frazer!” Elena flew from behind the desk, wrapping her sturdy arms around him and pressing him against her overflowing bosom. He kissed her soundly, making it a noisy one to annoy Maggie.
“We’re looking for a room, love,” he said.
“Of course you are, you bad boy. Where did you get the little nun? She’s not your type.”
Fortunately for Maggie’s temper she spoke in her San Pablo Spanish.
“I’m democratic when it comes to women, sweetheart. I love ‘em all.”
“Of course you do. You want the honeymoon suite? Nice big bed and a view of the city.”
“She doesn’t need any view but me, pequena. Give me my usual room—that’ll be good enough. And see if Luis can rustle up some dinner for her. I have to go out, but I think it’s better if she stays behind. I don’t want her too tired out for tonight,” he said with a deliberate smirk.
Elena howled with laughter and swatted him on the arm. “If she is, you just come and find me. I don’t tire so easily.”
“I remember.”
“What are you talking about?” Maggie said from beside him, that cranky, constipated expression on her face.
“Just talking about the weather, sugar.”
“I thought you were supposed to be talking about my sister.”
“All in good time. Elena and I are old friends. We have to observe the formalities.”
“How old a friend is she? She looks younger than I am. And I certainly don’t see anything formal between the two of you,” she grumbled.
He turned to look at her, his eyes deliberately wide and innocent. “Why, sugar, you sound like you’re jealous.”
Elena let out a snort of laughter. She leaned closer to Maggie. “You got yourself a lot of man,” she said in English. “You get tired of him, you just send him my way and I’ll take care of him real nice.”
“Behave yourself, Elena,” he said. “Maggie will think you’re serious.”
“Have him,” Maggie said. “Be my guest.”
This was getting past amusing and heading over into dangerous. He took the risk of moving away from them, leaning over the desk to grab the key to his usual room.
“Why you want that room, Frazer?” Elena had switched back to Spanish. “That bed’s too damned small to have any fun.”
“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, love. I’m very inventive.” He looked back at Maggie, and an unexpected trace of regret washed over him. She looked exhausted, her skin pale, her brown eyes hollow, even her hair drooped. They hadn’t had much to eat—just some sandwiches Señora Campos had packed for them, and the endless ride in the Jeep even left him feeling a little worn-out. It wouldn’t have been so bad on paved roads, but he’d taken some of the worst roads, and in San Pablo you had to hold on to your seat to make sure you didn’t go flying. Riding in a vehicle was far from a passive occupation.
“Come on, Maggie,” he said, taking the suitcase from her. He was right—she was too tired to even protest. “We’ll get you settled and then find something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Well, you should be. And I’m starving. This way.” He started toward the narrow stairs. Either she’d follow him or not. If she didn’t, he’d wash his hands of her and someone else could take on the dubious task of distracting Magnolia Brown.
She was right behind him when he unlocked the door to his usual room. By the time he pulled the string and turned on the overhead light she was already in, and he moved fast enough to stop her from leaving once she caught sight of that sagging double bed.
She looked at him with a trace of her usual cool. “And where are you sleeping?” she asked pointedly.
“Maggie, you wound me,” he protested. “If I wanted to force myself on you then I would have chosen someplace along the way, out of earshot.”
“Maybe you prefer beds.”
“Maybe I do,” he said with a slow grin. “But I’m still more interested in keeping you out of harm’s way than getting into your pants. This is my usual room when I’m here. It’s got the best location—it looks over the back alley, it’s near the stairs and it’s a short drop to the ground if we have to leave through the window.”
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“You really have a fixation about that, don’t you, Mag?” he drawled. “I’ve slept on more than my share of floors in my lifetime, and this one’s no better or worse than many of them. You can enjoy the sanctity of your virgin bed.”
She sat down on the virgin bed, and for a brief moment her shoulders sagged. Then she sat up straight, not wanting to betray even a moment’s weakness. “Good. I just hope you don’t snore.”
“I think my snoring will be the least of your worries,” he drawled. “You look beat. I’ll have Elena bring you up something to eat while I go out and see what I can learn. There’s a local bar with just the sort of people I’m looking for.”
“I’m coming with you. It’s my sister—”
“You’re staying put. You’ll keep the door locked and you’ll scream good and loud if anyone tries to open it. Most people wouldn’t think to mess with you once they know you’re with me, but there are always the few, stupid exceptions.”
“They’re all so afraid of you?” she scoffed. “I can’t imagine why.”
He smiled at her. His ferocious, wolflike smile that tended to terrify braver souls than Maggie Brown.
“Can’t you?” he murmured. She looked up at him, and he could see the first trickling of real uneasiness in her stern brown eyes.
“Lock the door behind me,” he said. And he was gone before he could ruin the effect.
CHAPTER FIVE
MAGGIE SAT ON THE SAGGING bed, listening as his footsteps died away. And then she flopped backward onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling, the lone lightbulb hanging in the center illuminating the shabby interior of the room. It seemed relatively clean. She didn’t want to think about how recently the sheets had been changed.
At least she was alone. Without his eyes watching her, those enigmatic, electric-blue eyes of his.
She could hear her stomach rumble. She hadn’t eaten much for lunch—the constant jolting of the Jeep along the barely passable roads hadn’t done much
for the state of her stomach. But now that the bouncing had finally stopped she was starving.
Frazer had said Elena would bring her something to eat. Probably laced with cyanide. If Elena and Frazer weren’t something more than friends then she was a kangaroo. Why he bothered making her sleep in the same room when he had such a luscious armful available was beyond her comprehension. She didn’t believe for one moment that it could be that dangerous in this tiny hotel. It wasn’t any noisier than most cities, though the occasional shriek from the alley outside was slightly unnerving. He was probably exaggerating the danger in order to keep her compliant. As far as she could tell the most dangerous creature in the entire country of San Pablo was Ben Frazer. She’d seen no signs of any alleged bandits, revolutionaries, or even the snakes he’d promised.
Her stomach made a rumbling protest again, and she allowed herself a faint, self-pitying moan. She would have given anything to be back in Philadelphia, in her safe, comfortable bed. She would have given anything to have spent her entire life without making the acquaintance of Ben Frazer.
She should be used to it by now. Her sister and mother had gotten her into more hassles than she could even begin to count, and ever since her father’s death all the responsibility for them had fallen on her own shoulders. Not that it was a heavy burden—she was used to taking care of things, of cleaning up after her sister’s mistakes, of soothing her mother’s melodramatic extremes. This was a little more strenuous than the usual, but chances were this wasn’t the worst trial she was ever going to face.
She just wished she’d had a chance to call home again, just to make sure her mother was hanging in there. If Delia was as sick as she said she was, she might already be dead, with both of her daughters thousands and thousands of miles away. If she didn’t bring Stella back in time she’d never forgive her sister. If she didn’t get back in time she’d never forgive herself.
Maybe she could just fall asleep, listening to the steady murmuring of her empty stomach. There was nothing she could accomplish tonight—she’d promised Ben that she’d stay put. Even if she went out in search of a public telephone there was no guarantee that she’d find a working one. And there was always the remote possibility that he wasn’t exaggerating the danger.