Under Wraps

by Patricia Green

  "Now look, Garcia," Fletcher said thickly. "I hope you ain't plannin' on any retribution cause o' what I done to keep you secure. I was only doin' my job."

  Glee backhanded his belly. "Shut up, Fletcher! If you weren't such a drunkard this would never have happened."

  Amina fastened the restraints on Fletcher and then stepped back.

  "Now throw the key into those trees," Alex ordered, pointing to a large stand of pine perched at an angle on the hillside.

  Fletcher sank to the ground and sobbed drunkenly. "Damn, damn, damn," he cried. "If'n I ain't the unluckiest son-of-a-bitch." His bleary gaze tried to focus on Glee. "This's all yer fault, lady-bitch!"

  Glee straightened. "How dare you!"

  "Yer the one that gived this connivin' bastard so much freedom! Yer the one that's been feedin' him regular, keepin' his strength up. I ain't stupid, lady. I seen it all along!"

  "Enough!" Alex shouted. Everyone turned. "Erdogan, go to the wagon and bring back the rope. Amina, when Erdogan returns you and Hakki are going into that tent. He's going to tie you together."

  "You would leave us to die?" Hakki asked.

  Alex shook his head. "No, amigo. Erdogan will be tying the knots, not I. I'm just going to slow you down a bit."

  There was a loud thundering noise from the trees, and all heads turned. Fletcher screamed as he saw the first rider bearing down on them.

  "Injuns! Holy Mary, get me loose!"

  The Indians glistened in the scant moonlight, their sleek bodies coated in some kind of grease or oil. White paint streaked across their cheeks and foreheads.

  "Turn the wagon!" Alex shouted over the shrieks and war-whoops that came ever closer. "Turn the wagon and get behind it!"

  Everyone but Fletcher set to the task of turning the wagon on its side. Alex shot the first warrior who came close, but not before the man had impaled Fletcher with a lance.

  "Oh, God," Glee moaned, as she watched Fletcher crumple. "He was helpless and we left him."

  Alex shoved a pistol into her hands and pushed her head down. "He's dead, querida. Shoot or join him!"

  Glee stared at him for a moment, but her jaw set. She checked the gun to see if it was loaded.

  "Bueno niña," Alex murmured as he rose to take another shot.

  It was only a small band, perhaps a dozen Arapaho. They seemed unprepared for the fight, as though they had been doing something else and just happened upon the out-of-place wagon. A hunting party, Alex guessed. Whatever, they were shooting arrows and throwing lances. He wasn't about to ask why they'd come.

  Hakki threw a box of cartridges at Alex, and their eyes met for a brief moment. Hakki still felt betrayed, Alex could sense it, but there was also an underlying understanding in his black gaze. Alex nodded and reloaded.

  It took only a short time to rout the Indians. Perhaps because they weren't really interested in a lone wagon, or perhaps because they knew when they were at a disadvantage. Whatever the reason, they turned and fled, leaving six fallen warriors behind.

  Alex knew that they'd be back for their dead, and he had to get the party to safety before they returned. He stood and turned toward the hillside behind him.

  Amina was bent over Erdogan, sobbing, and Alex rushed to her side. Erdogan had taken an arrow in the eye, and was dead.

  "Oh, no!" Glee shouted. Alex looked over and found her holding Hakki, supporting his weight as though he had collapsed when rising from behind the wagon.

  Hakki's head was bleeding, and he had an arrow piercing his left shoulder. Amina moaned and ran to him, cradling his head in her lap as he sunk to the ground.

  "Get bandages!" Alex told Glee. She stared at him dumbly. "Glee! Get bandages! Now!" He bent over Hakki. "He's got a cut along his temple. That's what all this blood is from," he said to Amina. "Hold him steady while I break off the shaft of this arrow." The arrow snapped, and Hakki moaned. A tiny bit of blood dribbled from the unconscious man's mouth.

  Glee came with bandages. "This is all we have left. If it's not enough, I'll start tearing things up."

  Alex nodded and put pressure on Hakki's scalp. He looked up at Amina and watched a tear streak down her face. He put her hand on the bandage. "Press it hard. It'll stop the blood, Amina." She glanced up at him, not really seeing, then looked back down at Hakki.

  "Is he going to die?" Glee asked. She was kneeling next to Alex, holding Hakki's limp hand.

  Alex shrugged. He didn't know. "I'm not sure, mi amor," he said. "But I can guarantee that we'll all be killed if we stay here."

  She turned toward him.

  "Those Indians will be returning to claim their dead. And they'll be bringing reinforcements," he explained.

  "We've got to get out of here."

  He nodded. "Si, niña."

  Glee reached for the bandage Alex was using to staunch some of the blood coming from Hakki's shoulder. "I'll do this, Alex. Can you right the wagon?"

  "I think so," he answered.

  He struggled with the wagon for several minutes, but did manage to push it back onto its wheels. Several more minutes and he had hitched four of their five horses to it. The oxen were too slow and would have to be left behind. So would some of their load. They needed to get away fast, and the heavy wagon was too encumbered.

  A trunk of dishes, another of linens, two of clothing, and several boxes of odds and ends got heaped on the dirt by the tents. All that was left were Glee's books, for they could not be replaced, one trunk of clothing, blankets, and all of their foodstuffs. Something warned Alex to take along the dry wood they'd hauled through the plains. Cold, wet weather was coming and a warm fire might just save their lives.

  When all was ready, Glee prepared a pallet for Hakki in the wagon bed, and Alex lifted him as gently as he could. Amina continued to tend him as Alex and Glee took the bench and Alex flicked the reins which set the horses in motion.

  Alex had a vague idea which way led to the main trail and he prayed that he could find it in the dark. After half-an-hour, he relaxed slightly, fairly certain that no one was following them.

  "You should be in the back, sweetheart. You look tired." Actually, she looked exhausted. And dirty. Her hat and scarf had fallen away during the gunfight and her hair was wrapped around her shoulders and clung to her sweat- and dirt-streaked face. The left sleeve of her dress had come loose and was hanging open from the shoulder. Alex glimpsed a long, red scratch on her arm.

  He elbowed her gently. "Are you hurt?"

  She shook her head, staring straight ahead.

  "You know," she said several minutes later. "No matter how bad things were in Boston, they would be better than this. I should have stayed and taken it. I should have gone back to the Ottoman Empire to live with Prince Akmed."

  "Why didn't you? To marry a prince would be a great thing."

  She pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "I wouldn't have been married to him. My uncle sold me to him."

  Alex's mind flashed back to a dream he'd had in the jail of Fort Bridger. Glee had been sold then too, but to Magdalena.

  Alex wanted to be careful in his response. He didn't want Glee to know that he'd read her journal. "Is that why you were in the harem?"

  She looked at him, then back at the road. "No. My father was Eric Montrose, the author."

  "Ah," Alex said. "I have read something of his. Hmm." He considered. "'Buried At The Bottom Of The World,' I believe."

  "He wrote that when we were in Australia."

  Alex nodded. "I see. So you traveled with him frequently?"

  "I traveled with him always. I was in Constantinople with him when he died. That's how I came to live in the Sultan's harem." Glee went on to explain the incidents which had brought her back to Boston under a cloud. “The Sultan’s son, Akmed, saw me in the harem one day and decided that he wanted me. I have no idea why me and not one of the other women. Akmed spoke to his father and his father spoke to my uncle. My uncle, never having been particularly close to my father or me, basically gave into the
Sultan’s demands, effectively selling me in exchange for some shipping contracts with my uncle’s business. They gave me one year to close my father’s affairs and then I am to return. But, of course, I have no intention of going back. They’ll just have to be disappointed.”

  "How can you be so certain that they will not pursue you, Glee?" He'd have pursued her, no matter where she went. But then he'd had a taste of what she had to offer. The prince had not.

  "If you had seen the other women there, you'd understand. The Sultan won't waste his time when so many others who are far more suitable can be found right under his roof."

  Alex supposed that could be true. "Tell me about the harem," he suggested.

  She sighed. "It's always the same with you men. Raymond dragged out all the gory details too. It wasn't a non-stop orgy, if that's what you're thinking."

  "Who is Raymond?"

  "My cousin; my best friend beside Amina, really, in Boston."

  Alex heard the longing in her voice. "You love him?"

  "He's my cousin. Of course, I love him," she replied.

  Alex's gaze swung to her and he found her staring at him, her chin stuck out defiantly. "That's not what I meant," he grumbled.

  Her eyes flashed. "I know what you meant."

  "You aren't going to tell me, are you?" He turned back to the road.

  "No. It's none of your business."

  He was irritated, but he couldn't help the half-smile his mouth was determined to make. "You're a stubborn creature, niña."

  "Isn't that the trail?" she asked, pointing to a rutted track up ahead.

  "Of course."

  She shot him an irritated glare, and he grinned.

  "You're an arrogant man, Alex Pacheco."

  "I'm glad you think so."

  "You are?"

  He nodded. "I've been trying for weeks to convince you I'm Alex Pacheco. Finally, you grow wise."

  She snorted. "I don't know why I talk to you."

  "You could kiss me instead."

  He laughed at her glare.

  "I'd sooner kiss a pig!"

  He laughed even harder. "You haven't seen yourself yet, sweetheart."

  "Why you conceited, deli adam! You, you sabroso pene!" She shot him a smug look, which only made him roar with laughter. A frown merged her brows and she punched his arm. "Oh! I hate you!"

  "Then why did you just call me a 'delicious penis'?"

  She paled. "I did not."

  He nodded, chuckling. "You need to work on your Spanish, niña, before you start throwing it around." Alex's brow quirked. "Unless you meant to flirt with me."

  "You are insufferable!"

  He shrugged, his mood expansive. "Where did you learn that anyway?"

  "We lived in Spain when I was a girl. One night I overheard my mother say it to my father. I-I thought they were arguing, they were so loud." She glared again as Alex nearly doubled with laughter. "Obviously, I'll never say it again."

  "Never is a long time, querida," he pointed out. "Someday, you might want to say it."

  "I sincerely doubt it." She folded her arms over her chest.

  Glee was so full of life. Even dirty and disheveled from barely escaping an attack on her life, she was spitting at him! He grinned.

  They rode the next five miles in silence. When Alex felt her soft weight against his arm, he reached around to pull her into his warm embrace. It was peaceful with the little tiger sleeping against him. More peaceful than he had felt in years.

  20

  Glee tucked her hair under her scarf for the hundredth time. It gave her something to do besides remembering and reliving how she'd awakened that morning. She couldn't even remember crawling into the wagon-bed to sleep last night.

  Everything had been something of a blur. The Indians attacked, Erdogan was killed, Fletcher, too, and Hakki was wounded. Amina had taken out the arrow while they escaped with the horses, food and little else.

  Glee remembered arguing with Alex about... something, as they hurried away in the wagon, and then Alex suggested that she get some sleep. Rather suddenly it had been morning. Sunlight brightened the canvas cover, but that wasn't what awakened her. The chill morning air had.

  When she finally opened her eyes to look for a blanket the first thing she saw was a dark, furry chest. She didn't even realize she'd slept on that chest until she noticed that her breath stirred the soft hair there. Her leg was draped over a hard thigh, and her stomach was pressed tightly against his belt and hip. When she dared to raise her head to look, she met Alex's tawny gaze, and he smiled his amusement.

  "Sleep well, querida?"

  She'd never admit that she had, of course. So, she sat up and rubbed her cool arms. When had she taken off her dress? Why was she wearing her chemisette and pantaloons instead of her nightgown? Glee frowned. She turned to Alex for answers and found him staring at her oddly. When she followed his gaze she discovered that her chemisette had come untied and had fallen open to reveal her breasts. What had been cold, now was heated with her blush.

  Before she could tie the errant ribbons, Alex's hands were there, closing the lace-trimmed silk carefully, tying the yellow ribbons into neat little bows. Glee knew she should stop him, but he was like a handsome little boy, tying his shoes for the first time. Well, perhaps Alex tied her chemisette too well, too expertly, but his expression was the same. Concentration, wonder, and most of all enjoyment.

  Shortly thereafter, fully dressed, it was Glee's turn to stare a little. Alex was digging Erdogan's grave. Shirtless, the winter sun was making gleaming wet paths down the thick muscles of his back as he wielded the shovel. Each firm length of broad, hard potency stood out in stark relief as he flexed and stretched, hard knots of brawn swelling and receding in his arms and shoulders. The rocky soil made the work harder, but he didn't complain. Only the rhythmic clink-shoof of the spade extracting earth could be heard over the droning of bees and the music of the wind in the aspens.

  Glee was beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable watching. How could she forget the feel of that tan flesh beneath her fingers; the deep, earthy, intoxicating smell of him? And yet she knew she had to forget. Alex wasn't coming to California with them. He was going to Salt Lake City.

  It didn't matter that she was no longer certain of his identity. She just knew that she had to get away from him. He was too potent, too stimulating for her peace of mind. Too damn dangerous!

  As though reading her thoughts, Alex looked up from the deep pit he'd dug. A guilty flush stole over Glee's face, and that warmth made her more than a little irritated.

  "Isn't that deep enough?" she snapped. "It's nearly as deep as you are tall."

  He pushed a sweat-dampened lock of brown-black hair away from his brow and looked at the uneven sides of the grave. The top, where Glee's little booted feet were planted, came just to his lips, about six feet deep.

  “Is Erdogan ready?” he asked, climbing out of the hole.

  Glee turned away quickly. It wouldn’t do for him to see how ridiculously shaky his half-naked presence made her. “Amina and I have done our best.” She pointed to a blanket-shrouded mound by the wagon.

  A warm, callused hand caught her chin and turned her around. She stared at Alex’s glistening chest for a few moments, fascinated anew at the dark curls she’d felt against her cheek only a few hours earlier. Another flush stole over her, and Glee’s gaze dropped to his booted feet.

  “You’re all bottled up inside, querida,” he said gently. “I know this has been difficult for you.” He tilted her chin upward until she had to meet his eyes. “Where are your tears for your friend?”

  Glee pushed his hand away. “I don’t cry.” She started to turn away, but he caught her shoulder and made her face him again.

  “You do not need to hide from me, I’ve seen you cry, sweetheart.”

  A ripple of remembrance caused her to straighten her spine. Yes, he had seen her cry. He’d made her cry. By lying, by cheating at a game Glee wasn’t sure she knew how to pl
ay, by making her want him when she should loathe every fiber of his wicked being. Her chin stuck out as her jaw tensed with fury.

  “You caught me at a weak moment, you bastard.” She poked his bare chest with a stabbing finger. “Don’t you ever dare to think you’ll do it again. Erdogan knew I loved him; I don’t need to prove it to you by loosing a cupful of silly, female tears over his grave.”

  She stalked away before the tawny gold of Alex’s eyes could see through her bravado and witness her aching heart. It would be so good to be away from him. Salt Lake could have him, and she’d be free.