by Anne Stuart
Three shots, and all she could do was flatten herself back on the pavement and cover her head. If she was going to die then so be it, but she wasn’t going to make an easy target.
The silence was deafening. She uncovered her head and peered up, to see El Gallito looming over her, swaying slightly, his eyes empty. And then he pitched forward onto the pavement beside her, dead.
She scrambled away from him in a mindless panic, only to be brought up in Ben Frazer’s strong arms. She stared up at him, wild-eyed. “You killed him,” she said.
“Yes.” His electric-blue eyes were opaque, unreadable.
She wanted to stand on her own, but her legs were trembling so much that she could barely keep upright. His hands were holding her, and she liked it, needed it, even more than she hated him.
“How did he escape?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“I didn’t know that he had.”
“Then why are you here?”
“We have some unfinished business.”
“Oh, no, we don’t…” she protested fiercely, but he simply picked her up in his arms.
“Can we continue this conversation somewhere other than beside El Gallito’s body?” he asked in a sardonic voice. “I haven’t killed that many men in my life and he gives me the willies.”
“Don’t you need to do something about him?”
“Someone will clean up the mess later,” he said carelessly. “It’s not like it hasn’t happened before in Generalissimo Cabral’s San Pablo.”
She didn’t bother arguing. They got as far as the roadway, and she recognized the Jeep. “I thought I crashed it,” she said.
“The Professor has more than one. Not that he wanted to trust me with it, after what happened to the last one. But when he heard I was coming after you he agreed.”
“You were coming after me,” she said stiffly.
He set her down, carefully. She took a step back from him, because she needed to stand on her own two feet. He looked wary, uncertain, staring down at her.
“Your sister wants you to stay,” he said. “She needs you. She’s got too much on her plate, and she needs your help.”
“I don’t need to take care of her anymore, didn’t you tell me that? She’s twenty-eight years old, she can stand on her own two feet.”
“She doesn’t need you to take care of her. She just needs help,” he said. “And The Professor, he needs you. You can help him understand the world financial situation…”
“I’m a banker from Philadelphia, not a secretary of the treasury, for heaven’s sake!” she shot back.
His half grin would have been endearing if she didn’t want to kick him again. “You never know what the future holds. You know more about money than Ramon does, that’s for sure.”
“So I’m supposed to stay and help out my sister and brother-in-law?”
“And the country. There’s a lot of work to be done now that the Generalissimo has left. He’s been stripping this place bare for the past thirty years. We need all the help we can get to put it back together.”
“And what will you be doing?”
He shrugged. “Anything I can.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she said briskly. “San Pablo has survived without me before and it’ll do very well without me in the future.”
“Ramon needs me.”
“So?” she said coolly.
“I’m not going to be any good to him in Philadelphia. Besides, whoever heard of a swashbuckler in Philadelphia?”
She stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“I lied to you, I tricked you, and I was ready to tie you up and leave you. I took advantage of you time and time again.”
“And?”
“And…” He took a deep, painful breath. “I’m sorry. Damn, I hate apologizing,” he added bitterly.
She could feel the first embers of hope begin to glow in the pit of her stomach. “Apology accepted,” she said coolly. “And now I’ve got a plane to catch.” She started to walk away from him, knowing there was no plane, knowing she had no passport nor money to get one.
He caught her arm, just as she knew he would. Her back was toward him, so he couldn’t see the sudden smile that blazed across her face.
“You don’t want to be a pirate wench in Philadelphia, Maggie,” he said. “Stay here.”
She schooled her features, then turned to look at him. “Stay here and be a banker?” she questioned with deceptive calm.
“Stay here and love me.”
A slow, sure smile lit her face. Delia would get to choose a china pattern after all. “Frazer,” she said, “you’re going to hate my mother.” And she went into his arms, home at last.
eISBN-13: 978-1-4603-4533-7
The Fall of Maggie Brown
Copyright © 2000 by Anne Kristine Stuart Ohlrogge
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