Babs reached for the cup he held out. "You're a private detective."
"No, not exactly. I don't have the license for it, for one thing. And I don't do divorces or deliver summonses. I just find things. For a fee."
Babs took a sip of the coffee, her eyes thoughtful. "Doesn't sound like a very reliable way to earn a living."
"I've done all right. I don't have a family to support so I don't have to worry quite so much about a steady job."
"So you run a lost and found department."
Sam smiled, his eyes crinkling. "I guess that's as good a description as any."
"I still don't understand how you found me. This old hotel is off the beaten track. I'd forgotten we even owned it."
Sam took the empty cup from her and filled it with the remaining coffee in the pan. "Next time I decide to rescue a kidnapped heiress, I'll have to remember to
pack two cups." He sipped the steaming brew. "Your uncle told me about this place."
"My uncle? I thought you said you weren't working for my family. Besides, if Uncle Lionel told you about this place, why didn't he tell the police about it?"
"I'm not working for your family. Emmet is the one who told me about this place."
"Uncle Emmet? Does he know where I am? Where is he? Is he waiting for us? I haven't seen him in months."
"One question at a time. As far as I know, Emmet doesn't even know about the kidnapping. The last I heard of him, he was somewhere in South America researching a book."
The excitement faded from her face and Sam was surprised to discover that he regretted its disappearance. Her eyes dropped to the stone floor. He had the feeling she was blinking back tears. The thought bothered him.
"I'm sorry. I wish Emmet was waiting for us."
She shrugged. "It doesn't matter." But he knew it did matter. She looked up, her expression under control. "So, how well do you know Emmet?"
"Not very well at all. We met about a year ago in Mexico. We had a few drinks together and talked quite a bit. He mentioned this place because he was thinking of setting a novel here. He said the family had all but forgotten it but that they'd hate it if he used it in one of his books. I think that was one of the major reasons he liked the idea." He broke off, realizing that his words weren't very tactful.
Babs's grin was every bit as gleeful as her uncle's had been. "He's right. Aunt Dodie would be mortally offended. The thought of Malone property being mentioned in a 'trashy novel' would pucker her up like a prune. I hope he does it."
"He was thinking about it when we talked."
"How was he? For a writer, he's a lousy correspondent."
"He seemed fine. We only spent the one evening together. He was on his way into the jungle the next day and I was on my way home. He's quite a character."
"Uncle Emmet prides himself on being a character." Her face was soft with affection and Sam found himself wondering what it would be like to have that expression turned toward him. "He's the black sheep of the family. Grandfather threw him out of the will years ago because he married an 'unsuitable woman.' It drives the family nuts that he never seemed to mind. He's the only relative I've got who's worth a damn."
Sam chuckled. "That's exactly what he said about you."
Babs laughed softly. "We always did see things alike."
Sam dragged his eyes away from the warmth in her eyes and looked out at the cool landscape. Rested and relaxed, Babs Malone was turning out to be a dangerously pleasant companion. Too pleasant by half. The sooner he turned her over to her family, collected his money and got on his way, the better.
"We probably ought to get started. It's going to take us a good half an hour to get to my truck."
"What about the kidnappers? Won't they be waiting for us?" She wrapped her hands around her upper arms and stared out, her eyes reflecting her uneasiness.
"They probably left long ago. They must have figured out that their safest bet was to cut their losses and get as far away from here as possible."
She shivered. "They sounded pretty serious about killing me."
"That was when it would serve a purpose. After they'd got the ransom, they'd have had no reason to keep you alive. They can't have any real hope of getting a ransom now, so they have no particular reason to kill you. Unless you could give positive ID on them. Could you?"
She shook her head. "Not really. They wore ski masks most of the time. I'll never forget their voices but I didn't really see any faces."
"Well, then, they've got no worries." He was replacing things in his pack as he spoke. When Babs didn't answer, he glanced at her. She was still staring out into the early evening light, her teeth nibbling on her lower lip.
"We'll take every precaution just in case but I really think they're gone. Besides, we can't sit in this cave forever."
"I know." But she still looked worried.
"Think of a nice juicy T-bone waiting for you when we get to the nearest town."
Babs smiled but she wasn't thinking about steaks. She was thinking about how determined the kidnappers had sounded. They had wanted her dead. The memory sent a chill up her spine that settled into a lump in her chest.
She watched Sam scatter their fire, carefully stamping out every trace of flame. He looked reassuringly large and solid, and she felt some of the tension ease. She'd only known Sam Delanian a few hours but it was long enough to feel confidence in him. If he thought they'd be okay, she was willing to take a chance. Besides, as he'd pointed out, they couldn't sit here forever.
The rain had stopped, though the air still felt damp and vaguely misty, as if it was reserving the right to rain at any minute. Sam slid down the slight incline outside the shallow cave and then reached back to offer Babs his hand. She took it, feeling his palm engulf her smaller fingers. She could feel his strength in the way he braced her down the slope, the muscles in his arm taking her slight weight easily.
At barely five feet tall, Babs had always been rather defensive about her ability to take care of herself. She didn't want anyone mistaking her for a delicate little flower in need of nurturing, which was how men were inclined to view her, right after they blinked the dollar signs out of their eyes.
But she had to admit that it felt remarkably nice to have Sam's strong hand supporting her. It had been years since someone had offered her a hand to lean on. Of course, she couldn't forget that he was only doing this for the reward. Fifty thousand dollars was a lot of money, especially to a man who earned his living as an adventurer. She'd be foolish to forget just why he was here.
Dusk was approaching but there was still enough light to see where they were walking. Sam led the way through the sparse woods. Once again, he didn't seem to consider where he was stepping and yet he made not a sound. Babs felt as if she might as well be trumpeting their arrival. Her every footfall seemed to echo in the still air. She glared at Sam's black sneakers, wondering if he'd had them soundproofed.
Though he took precautions, Sam wasn't too concerned about the possibility of them running into her former captors. Babs was very concerned. She couldn't forget how cold the men had sounded when they'd talked about killing her. She was, perhaps, the least surprised when their quiet walk was interrupted.
Sam stopped next to a pine tree and waited until she drew level with him. "The road is just up ahead and my truck is parked on the other side. I covered it with some loose brush. Another hour or so and you'll be able to sink your teeth into that steak I promised."
Babs started to smile and then her eyes widened in horror. Her voice locked in her throat. Sam couldn't see what was behind him but he could see her face.
His palm hit her shoulder, shoving her backward with enough force to knock her off her feet. At the same time, he dropped to one knee. The rifle butt that would have opened his skull slammed into the tree instead. The crack as it hit the solid trunk was as loud as gunfire in Babs's ringing ears.
Sam pivoted, still on his knees and lunged upward, his shoulder catching the other man in the be
lly. Babs scrabbled in the thick layer of pine needles, looking for something she could use as a weapon. Sam's gun was tucked securely in his belt, his knife lay against his leg. He couldn't get to either of them.
Her fingers closed over the end of a fallen branch. She scrambled to her feet, hefting her find. Thick and sturdy, the branch was no match for a gun but it could help to tip the scales in Sam's favor. If only she could figure out whom to hit. In the gathering darkness, it was impossible to tell the two men apart. Sam's black clothes and the kidnapper's looked much the same.
The two men rolled on the ground, their battle punctuated by harsh grunts and harsher breathing. Babs crept closer. Her mouth tasted coppery with fear, a sensation that had become all too familiar since the kidnapping. She barely knew Sam Delanian but he'd gotten her out of the hotel. He'd risked his life to save hers. Whether or not he'd done it for money, the end results were much the same. If he died now, it would be on her conscience. If she survived to have a conscience. Her fingers ached with the pressure of her hold on the branch. Her palms were damp with sweat. If only she could be sure which one was Sam.
One man gained the upper hand. Braced above his opponent, his hands around the other man's throat, he slowly choked the other into unconsciousness.
What if it was Sam being choked? In the dark, the two men were little more than silhouettes. Babs raised the branch over her head, fighting the quivering in her arms, trying to decide whether to strike first and ask questions later. The man on the ground went limp, the battle over. The other man was still for a long moment, his shoulders heaving, his head bent forward on his chest. He seemed to gather himself and Babs tightened her grip.
"Hold it. Don't move or I'll brain you." Her voice shook but she thought she sounded reasonably ferocious.
He turned, ducking automatically at the sight of the branch poised to crack his skull. "That's a hell of a way to thank me for saving your life." The words were breathless, irritated and unmistakably Sam.
Babs's fingers went weak and Sam cursed as he dodged the falling club. "Sorry. I thought you were him."
Sam stood up, running one hand over his face. "I'm glad you waited to find out." He looked down at his vanquished foe.
"Is he dead?" Babs didn't look down. She'd never met a body before and she didn't want to meet one now. But Sam was shaking his head.
"Unconscious. And he'll have a hell of a sore throat for a while." He stooped to pick up his fallen pack and reached for her hand. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
As he spoke, they heard someone approaching from the direction of the hotel. Sam didn't wait to find out who it might be. They didn't have any friends in the area. He tugged Babs forward at a stumbling run, no longer concerned about noise. A few yards beyond where they'd been jumped, they all but fell onto a dirt road. Sam pulled her across and plunged into the scraggly woods on the other side.
He dropped her hand and began tearing at a wall of brush. Babs caught a glimpse of chrome and realized this must be where he'd hidden his truck. She helped him pull the brush away, spurred on by a shout that indicated the unconscious man had been found. The sharp branches jabbed through the thin gauze bandages on her tender palms but she barely noticed the discomfort.
It seemed to take forever but it couldn't have been more than a minute or two before Sam was jerking open the driver's door. Babs started to step up into the cab but Sam's hands closed around her waist, lifting her in as if she weighed no more than a feather pillow. She scooted across the seat as Sam slid behind the wheel and pushed the key into the ignition.
The engine caught immediately. Sam didn't bother with warming it up. He slammed it into gear. Babs banged her shoulder on the door as the truck rocked down the embankment and onto the road. She caught a glimpse of movement from the other side of the road and ducked as light caught on a rifle barrel.
There was a sharp pop and then a loud crack as a bullet hit the rear window. Sam cursed between his teeth, crouching low over the wheel, flooring the gas pedal. The tires spun on the loose dirt and then gripped, and the truck lurched forward. Babs grabbed for the armrest as the movement threatened to send her onto the floorboard.
Several more shots were fired but none of them hit the truck and, in a matter of seconds, they were out of range.
Babs sat up cautiously, reaching for her seat belt as the truck roared down the old road, bouncing in and out of ruts with a fine disregard for the suspension. She glanced at Sam. His face was set, his eyes on the road.
"I told you they wanted to kill me."
His eyes slanted toward her briefly, leaving her with an impression of blue fire. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you should never say T told you so'?"
There didn't seem to be anything to say in reply so Babs settled back on the not-too-comfortable seat and tried not to think about how close she'd come to dying.
Chapter 3
"Look, if you think I'm going to share a room with you, you're crazy." Babs set her chin stubbornly and stared out the windshield. Sam threw her a look that should have turned her to a cinder.
"Look, there's nothing I'd like better than to stick you in a room by yourself and let the kidnappers take their chances if they find you. They'd have my sympathy. Unfortunately, if the poor devils did succeed in kidnapping you again, there goes my fifty thousand bucks."
Babs glared at him. "All you care about it your damned money.''
"That's right."
It was impossible to argue with his flat agreement. Impossible to admit, even to herself, that it hurt.
"I thought you said they'd just cut their losses and leave."
"I also said that they wouldn't try to kill you but those were real bullets." He jerked his thumb toward the neat round hole in the back window. "I just want to be sure you're safe for tonight. Tomorrow, I'll deliver you safely back to the bosom of your family."
"Guarding your investment?"
He ignored her sneering tone. "That's right. Your family owes me fifty thousand dollars and I may charge extra for the rope I had to leave behind. Not to mention combat pay."
"You can hardly charge extra for that. You weren't hurt in the fight. Fifty thousand should cover that much at least."
"I wasn't talking about that little tussle. I was talking about dealing with you."
Babs opened her mouth, ready to cut him to ribbons with words, but he'd already opened his door and slid out of the truck. She glared after him. Combat pay. She wasn't that hard to deal with. Of course, she hadn't been in the most gracious of moods. But then, kidnapping and attempted murder had a way of making her a trifle testy.
Sam opened the office door of the little building and disappeared inside. He was going to rent one room for the night and Babs admitted to herself that she wasn't quite as reluctant as she wanted to be. She didn't like Sam Delanian. He was too pushy, too macho, tuo sure of himself. But she had to admit—reluctantly—that she felt safer with him around. He'd proven himself capable of taking care of her. Not that she needed anyone to take care of her but it wouldn't hurt to have him on her side just in case.
When Sam came back with their room key, Babs didn't offer any more arguments. He didn't know why and he told himself he didn't care. All in all, it had been one hell of a day. He wanted something to eat, a hot shower and a soft bed, in that order. He wanted Ms. Babs Malone with him so that he could keep an eye on her and, if she didn't like it, well, it was just too bad.
"Why don't you go take a shower and I'll order us a pizza?"
Babs eyed the room's one bed. It was a very large bed but there was still only one. Sam followed her gaze. For a moment they both stared at the cheap candlewick bedspread.
"Look, don't say anything." Sam's voice held all the weariness he felt. "Just go take a shower. I've got a spare shirt you can borrow if you want to put on something clean. We'll eat and then you can throw a fit if you want."
"I don't throw fits."
"Good. That will save us both a lot of trouble. What do you like
on your pizza?"
She dragged her eyes from the bed and looked at him a minute, her gaze speculative. Sam braced himself, waiting for the arguments. She'd never believe him if he told her he'd tried to get them a room with two beds.
"Anything but green peppers. They make me break out in hives. Where's this shirt you said you had?"
Sam didn't know and he didn't care why she'd decided to postpone the argument he was sure was coming. Maybe she was as tired as he was. Maybe she was just trying to keep him off balance. For the moment he wasn't going to look for an explanation. With the bathroom door shut behind her and the shower running, he had some calls to make.
The first and most important was an order for a pizza with everything but green peppers, though the thought of the snotty Ms. Malone breaking out in hives had a certain appeal to it. With food on the way, he dialed the number for the Malone family residence. It wasn't the number that had been given with the reward information but Sam didn't like dealing with a middleman if he could go right to the source. It hadn't taken him long to track down the unlisted number. It paid to have connections.
He kicked off his shoes and lifted his feet onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard and closing his eyes while he waited for the long-distance connections to go through. This was the last job. He was getting too old for this kind of thing.
"Hello?" The voice was old and quavery.
"Could I speak to a relative of Babette Malone?"
"I'm her aunt Bertie. Who is this?"
"My name is Sam Delanian. I'm calling to let you know that your niece is safe and sound."
"Well, of course she's safe and sound."
Sam hesitated a moment, thrown off balance by the certainty in the reedy tones. "I „.. your niece was kidnapped."
"That's right." He could have just mentioned that it looked like rain, for all the concern in her voice.
"Well, I've...rescued her and I wanted to assure her family that she's safe and sound." He waited for thanks, possibly sobs of relief.
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