The room shuddered as the powerful rolling motion of the second quake increased. Kara was tossed to the floor. Clear-sighted, and well aware of her danger, she was no longer feeling euphoric. She felt more like someone had doused her with a bucket of cold water.
If I die now, she thought in despair, he'll never know that I loved him.
Dimly, she heard Juanito bellowing her name. But the more ominous sound of a beam cracking over her head demanded her immediate attention. As if watching a slow-motion film, she stood in frozen fascination as the wood sagged drunkenly and fell. Finally moving her gaze from the awesome sight, she took one quick look around and dived between two of the beds that had been shuffled like a deck of cards and left almost touching.
She landed awkwardly and felt a sharp pain on the left side of her face, followed by one on the back of her head. After that, there was only the blessed darkness of oblivion.
❧
Early Saturday afternoon, Dane slammed his front door and dropped his suitcase. He walked directly to a small table and poked a button on his answering machine. His phenomenal run of luck with the telephone had ended abruptly three days ago. It had been that long since he had talked to Kara.
Her husky voice riveted his attention to the machine. "Hi, Dane. It's Wednesday afternoon and I just wanted to let you know I'll be away on business for a few days."
"And why the hell couldn't you have told me about it the last time we talked so I wouldn't worry for seventy-two hours straight?" His mutter overrode her voice, and he had to replay the rest of the message.
Her voice was dry as she said, "To answer the question you're undoubtedly asking, I didn't say anything last night when we talked because I didn't know about it. I'll call you when I get back. Bye."
He shut off the machine, turned on the air conditioning and headed for the shower. Eyes closed, he stood letting the cool water stream over his head and down his heated body. She had to be the most aggravating woman in the world. He had crammed five days work into three and gone without sleep for the last twenty-four hours, all because he couldn't get her on the telephone.
He lathered his hair with shampoo and rubbed briskly. If that wasn't bad enough, he'd heard about Thursday morning's earthquake and had visions of her body beneath broken beams and rubble. He hadn't relaxed until he'd heard that the epicenter was sixty miles south of Tijuana. The San Diego area had felt the impact, but there was minimal damage north of the border.
He froze, staring at the shower head, then swore as shampoo stung his eyes. Tijuana? She wouldn't have gone down there without him. Would she? Hell, yes!
Had she done anything besides complicate his life since the moment they met? If disaster and chaos were to be found, would she be anywhere but right in the middle of it?
A minute later, a large towel tied around his lean hips, water still running down his back, Dane was back at the answering machine. His expression was grim as he played back Kara's message and waited for the next one.
Tillie's voice, rigid with control, was almost unrecognizable. "Dane? Please come and see me as soon as you can. Kara needs you."
❧
Twenty minutes later he sprinted up the front steps of the frame house. Tillie opened the door and stepped into his arms. After a moment a shuddering sigh escaped her, and she raised her head from his chest. "It's not as bad as I thought." Her smile was strained, but his knees weakened with relief at the sight of it.
He closed the door, following her into the living room.
"I called you Wednesday evening," she said.
"The night before the quake?"
Tillie nodded.
"She's down there." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes. She's hurt."
Dane paled beneath his tan. His lips were stiff as he asked, "How bad?"
"I don't know. I never know for sure. I only see bits and pieces." Her eyes were shadowed. "There was blood on her face and the back of her head."
Dane jerked as if she had hit him. He sat down next to her and took her small hand in his. Clearing his throat, he urged, "Go on."
She blinked away tears and sternly controlled her voice. "I didn't know if she was alive or dead."
Dane looked down at Tillie and marveled at her resilience. She had aged in the short time he had been away. And no wonder, he thought, accepting for the first time without question the burden that she carried. He would have turned gray overnight if he'd lived with such a nightmare.
"But you know now." Again it was a statement.
"Yes." Her clear eyes evaded his. "Walter told me that she's better."
Dane raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. If she needed Walter, she could have Walter.
And without any questions or comments from Dane.
God only knew what sort of a support team he'd need if he were in her shoes.
"Well," he said, "I suppose I better go pick her up."
She brightened and rose, leading him toward the door. "Yes, dear, I think you should."
He looked down and realized that he had the doorknob in his hand. Had had it there since he walked in. Shrugging, he dropped it in the beribboned basket and leaned down to kiss Tillie good-bye.
"Oh! I almost forgot. Walter said there was something you should know."
"What's that?" Dane asked tolerantly.
"It doesn't sound like him at all," she dithered.
"What did he say?"
"He was very specific. I was to tell you that today, Saturday, Kara was going to be in hot water."
"Hot water?" Dane repeated blankly.
Tillie nodded. "That's what he said."
"'Well, that's nothing new," he commented, starting out the door. She's always in .." He stopped as if he had run into a wall. "Hot water?"
Tillie nodded again, alarmed at the changing expression on Dane's face.
"She wouldn't do it," he stated with grim certainty.
"Do what?" Tillie asked in apprehension.
"Yes, she would," he snarled. "Tillie, so help me God, if that niece of yours is alive when I find her, I'm going to murder her!" He looked down at her puzzled expression. "Aqua Caliente means hot water. She's at that damned racetrack today!"
He turned without another word.
"Dane?" Tillie called tentatively after him.
"What?" He bit off the word.
"I wasn't going to say anything about this, because Walter has been acting peculiar lately ..."
He turned, towering over her. "What?" he asked, too gently.
"It sounds so . . well, so biblical," she said apologetically. "He said that a child would lead you."
He repeated blankly, "A child will ..."
" ... lead you." She nodded.
He swore softly, inventively and with great feeling.
"Tillie, I'm going to find her, drag her back by her silvery hair and ..."
"Marry her?" she asked hopefully.
"If I don't throttle her first." He glanced at his watch. "The races started an hour ago, God only knows what she's been up to in that time."
"You'll take care of her," Tillie said with satisfaction.
"You can count on that. I can hardly wait to get my hands on her," he said with grim anticipation as he loped to the truck.
Chapter 9
Two hours before Dane entered the shower, Kara was arguing with Juanito.
"No," he said adamantly, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at her.
"Why not? It's a perfect opportunity and you know it! They've checked the racetrack with a magnifying glass and a fine-tooth comb and declared it safe for tourists. Our bandit friends will be busy propping up their homes. We need more money to rebuild this place. It's the perfect time."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Dane will not like it."
"Who cares? We were doing this before he came along and we'll keep right on."
He shifted uncomfortably, but held his ground.
"He will not like
it," he repeated stubbornly.
"Are you going to let him intimidate you?" she challenged.
"Yes," he said simply.
She eyed him appraisingly. "Why? You're bigger than he is."
"It is not the size."
"Then what is it?"
"Something within here." He tapped his chest. "I have not his . ."
"Killer instinct," she supplied dryly, ending his search for words.
"Yes." His voice was hopeful. "Now do you see why we cannot do this?"
"No. Dane's ability to go for the jugular has nothing to do with it."
"Kara, my brave little friend, Thursday we pulled you out of the building. We thought you were dead. When we saw that you were alive you slept so soundly that we were still afraid. The doctor told us how to care for you. Carmella and I, we sat up with you, praying that you would open your eyes and be well."
"And so I am," she said softly, noting once again that the formality of his speech was in direct proportion to his heightened emotional state.
He touched a gentle finger to her swollen cheek and looked doubtful.
She winced. "I know. I have a shiner to end them all, but time will take care of that." She turned and looked across the yard, where blankets were stretched over ropes to provide shelter from the sun. Most of the main house was undamaged, but the two dormitories, added at a later time and built with inferior materials, had been destroyed.
"And speaking of time, we don't have an awful lot of it. The kids can't live in this tent city forever. What if it rains? We have to get some money to rebuild."
Kara tapped her foot impatiently. So much time had already been lost. Too much. She had slept, intermittently, until Friday morning. She had opened her eyes to see Carmella's anxious face hovering over her. The doctor, on his visit, had left precise instructions. Carmella, attempting to follow them, had asked one question.
"Juanito," she shrieked a moment later, for once shaken from her normal serenity, "bring the doctor. She tells me she leaps tall buildings."
Juanito had roared off in his truck. Kara brooded fuzzily, then decided that she did indeed know her own name and that she just hadn't been given enough time to answer the question. She attempted to explain, but found that it was hard to talk when your head hurt, and went back to sleep. Later, a doctor awakened her and annoyed her enormously by shining a light in her eyes and asking rapid, incomprehensible questions.
"Juanito," she had said with asperity, "having a house fall on my head did not improve my Spanish. What does the man want?"
The doctor had left, muttering about rest, liquids and aspirin. She had been fed, cosseted and told to sleep. This morning she had risen, dressed and defied anyone to mention returning to bed. And now they had things to do, and this stubborn mountain of a man wouldn't budge.
"All right," she said in exasperation, "we won't go." She waited just long enough for relief to spread across Juanito's face before she added softly, "But I will."
The argument was fierce and loud. The outcome was a surprise to no one.
"Dane will slit my throat," Juanito announced. "He will slice me up and throw the pieces to the dogs."
"No, you'll probably get off with a few choice words. He'll be saving the big stuff for me," Kara said blithely. "You're still worried about those guys who chased me, aren't you?"
He nodded gloomily.
"Wait right here. I've got something I want to show you."
She ducked into the house. When she returned several minutes later he was talking to Carmella, protesting and gesturing expansively.
"What do you think? Will I pass for a native?"
Juanito stared down at her, speechless. She twirled around, a gleaming mass of black hair spilling around her shoulders. "I bought it before I came down. No one will even look twice at me." She twirled again and caught the wig as it tilted over one eye. "Of course, I'll fix it so it stays on."
"You think no one will look at a woman with a green and purple face?" he asked carefully.
"Oh, that. Even if they do, they won't connect me with the blond gringa who knows how to pick all the winners. They'll just think that you know how to keep your woman in line." She grinned up at the gentle man.
Carmella laughed. "You might as well go and do it. I'll stay here with the little ones. Why don't you let the older ones ride in with you? I don't want them playing around the fallen buildings."
Juanito asked, "Do you think they will be safe while we are inside?"
She nodded. "Tell them to stay together and sit in the shade until you come out."
❧
Thirty minutes later, the truck pulled into the huge parking lot. The eight children obediently clustered in a shady spot and promised not to move. Kara and
Juanito paid for their tickets, walked up stairs shaded by a green-and-white canopy and entered the massive stone building. They bought a program, found seats in the grandstand and plotted their strategy.
"Let's make bigger bets this time," Kara suggested after taking a hasty peek at the program. She had wondered if a crack on the skull would negate her peculiar skill, but apparently it hadn't. The names still leaped out at her like neon lights.
She jabbed Juanito with her elbow. "Will you stop that? You're making me nervous, peering over your shoulder as if you expect the devil himself to appear."
"I think he is already here," he muttered. "See? To our right, four rows behind us?"
Kara turned casually, gazing in the direction he had indicated. Every seat was full. "Who am I looking for?" she whispered.
"The dark one, with the mustache."
She darted a quick glance at him to see if he was kidding. He wasn't. She wondered if it would be tactless to inform him that all the men looked dark to her. And that those who weren't bearded all seemed to have mustaches. She was pondering this bit of international courtesy when he spoke again.
"He was one of those who chased you that day."
"What!" She spun to face him, automatically adjusting her wig. "Are you sure?"
He nodded.
She frowned in concentration. It was one thing to convince her friends that the pursuing men would never recognize her . It was a horse of another color to be four rows away from one of them in a wig that tilted and slid at the slightest provocation.
"We'd better separate," Kara said decisively. "One lone giant is less conspicuous than a giant with a midget. Our friend just might happen to remember you. And that bit of success might spur him on to recall that the midget you were with last time was blonde. Let's use our divide and conquer routine and hope it's more successful this time."
She circled the names of the winning horses and handed the program to Juanito. "You take this and stay by the cashier's window, somewhere near the center. Don't come back. If you bet all the winnings of each race on the next one, you should have plenty of money by the fourth or fifth race."
She shushed him as he began to protest. "Just listen for a minute. Once you're gone, I'll blend in with the rest of the crowd. No one will pay any attention to me. I'll meet you by the window after the fifth race. If we have enough, we'll leave. Okay?"
He nodded reluctantly and rose.
It was a perfect plan, and it should have worked. It would have worked, Kara maintained later, if it hadn't been for the two men behind her. No, to be fair, it really began with the wig. It was hot and uncomfortable. So much so that she loosened some of the pins and surreptitiously slid a finger under it in an effort to scratch her sweaty scalp. Her head began to throb, and she thought longingly of a cool drink and a nap. Only two races to go, thank God.
The men behind her had devised a game to relieve the tedium between races. It consisted of whacking each other and any hapless bystander-with rolled newspapers. That, combined with the heat and the noise of the crowd, was almost more than Kara could bear.
At the end of the fourth race she stood and stretched. The men behind her had resumed their jousting and whacking. Then things happened so quickly
that only later could Kara recall the sequence of events. First, a tug on her wig. One of the men had lunged and tangled his paper weapon with a long strand of her dark hair. Then two yelps, one of pain from her, one of surprise from the man, as her wig was whipped from her head and sailed through the air like a large, hairy spider. There was a scream of pure terror as it landed in a woman's lap, then a roar of surprised laughter.
A breeze cooled Kara's overheated scalp. Her first comfortable moment of the afternoon was spoiled when her eyes met those of a man four rows up and to her right. A gold tooth glittered as he smiled in triumph.
When the fifth race began Kara quietly edged out of her seat and walked down the stairs. Before she reached the bottom she was encircled by men, all equally dark and mustachioed.
She heard a roar from the crowd and knew the race was almost over. Looking down, she saw Juanito turn to the cashier's window.
"This way, senorita," a quiet voice said, urging her toward the exit. Her protest went unvoiced when something sharp touched the small of her back.
Her circle of abductors herded her down the stairs and outside into the hot afternoon air. It was absolutely the last straw, Kara thought wretchedly. Her headache had escalated from a dull throb to lancing pains. The only thing in the world she wanted was a hard bed and a soft pillow. Instead, she had a knife in her back and a handful of hairy men.
The men seemed to be arguing about something, but Kara spied the waiting children and her attention was focused on them. They glanced up, caught sight of her and left the shade of the tree. They stopped, looked for Juanito and turned back to Kara in confusion when they couldn't find him. She shook her head; willing them to stay away.
Ruben, the oldest, spoke rapidly to the others.
They separated and formed a loose semicircle around Kara and the men. The men paid no attention to the ragtag group of children.
Elena positioned herself as close to Kara as she could. Kara asked a man in a blue, sweat-stained T-shirt, "Where are you taking me?" The men ignored her, but their argument grew loud and vehement. The children listened and looked at each other.
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