Serpent in Paradise

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  She bit her lip and watched him broodingly. “What if I said I don’t want to return to the States, Mr. Raven?”

  “I’d say you don’t have a whole hell of a lot of choice.”

  If he was simply an innocent employee sent to fetch her back, perhaps she could reason with him, Honor told herself resolutely. He might have a policy of not asking questions because he didn’t always like the answers. If he cared about answers there might be a chance that he still retained some semblance of a conscience. And if there was a small streak of morality or honor in him somewhere she might be able to appeal to it. It was her only hope.

  “Mr. Raven, I am twenty-nine years old. I am not a runaway child. I have the right to go where I please and at the moment I choose to stay here in Mexico. You have no right to try to take me back to the States.”

  “I think,” he said very politely, “that you might as well call me Judd. Something tells me we’re going to get to know each other fairly well tonight.”

  Her sense of shock was plain. There was no point in hiding it. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she bit out, a new kind of fear rising beneath the old, familiar variety she had been living with for so long. There was still no sign of masculine desire in those dark eyes but perhaps this man’s emotions were so cold that even lust took the form of a chilled passion instead of a heated one. The thought was frightening.

  “It means,” he said calmly, “that the dirt road I had to use for a landing strip on the other side of the village isn’t going to work as a runway at night. I’m not about to risk my neck or my plane trying to take off without being able to see a damn thing. We’ll leave in the morning. So I’ll be spending the night with you.”

  Honor shook her head dazedly. “No. I’m not going to leave with you in the morning and I’m not going to spend the night with you. Get out of here, Judd Raven. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself involved in. You have no conception of the size of the mess. Get out while you still can. And leave me behind!”

  “I don’t buy the paranoia act. Your father and brother might believe it and God knows a professional shrink will believe almost anything a patient wants him to believe. But I’m just a hardworking guy who’s seen neurotic, spoiled females before. What you probably needed instead of a psychiatrist during your formative years was the application of your father’s belt to your backside. But that’s his problem. I’ve only been hired to take you home, not straighten out your self-centered, childish approach to life.” His mouth kicked upward at the corners in a grimly amused expression. It was the first sign of any kind of emotion Honor had seen in him and she didn’t like it. “If I had been hired to straighten you out, I would have charged a hell of a lot more for the job than I’m going to get just to fly you home!”

  “Just how much are you being paid to kidnap me?”

  “Kidnap is a strong word,” he noted mildly.

  “It’s the only word that applies, given the fact that I’m not going to go with you willingly!” she shot back.

  “A couple of thousand plus expenses.” He gave her the answer to her initial question and overlooked the accusation that had followed.

  “A couple of thousand! Is that all?” Was that all a human life was worth these days? But then he hadn’t been paid to kill her, only to deliver her to the executioners. “What kind of a man are you to do this sort of thing for a living?” she hissed.

  “The kind of man who works for a living.” He appeared totally unperturbed by the taunt. Was there any way of getting through that wall of indifference? Could anything reach this man?

  Money. If he was doing this for money perhaps that was the way to get through to him. A few crucial seconds ticked past as Honor considered the possibility. “A couple of thousand,” she repeated carefully. He nodded in polite agreement, saying nothing. “A couple of thousand plus expenses,” Honor went on, striving to sound as cool and cynical as he did. “I’ll double that if you’ll just go away and leave me here.”

  He was silent for a long moment and she couldn’t even begin to tell what he was thinking “They told me you probably had some money with you,” he finally said.

  “Everything that was in my bank account,” she assured him quickly, daring to let a spark of hope ignite. “All in cash.”

  “And all belonging to your father,” Raven concluded bluntly. “Hell, lady, at your age don’t you think it’s time you started working for a living instead of sponging off your family? Maybe if you went home and got a job you could learn a little self-discipline, start putting your life in order.” He sounded as if the suggested therapy was only of academic interest to him. “Or maybe what you need is marriage to a man who won’t let you get away with playing your stupid head games. It’s obvious your father has handled you all wrong but the right kind of husband might be able to undo some of the damage and make an adult woman out of you.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” she gasped, struggling against the defeating knowledge that she didn’t know how to deal with Judd Raven. So much depended on finding the key to this stranger and there was so little time. “Are you interested in my offer or not?”

  He shook his head briefly. “Not. Don’t look so crushed. It was a good try. It’s just that I already have a job and accepting your offer would have created a definite conflict of interest, don’t you think?”

  “I’ll triple the offer!” she tried desperately.

  “Forget it. Finish your meal and let’s go to your place. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us in the morning and I want to get some sleep.” He downed the last of the tequila and sat waiting with the patience of a hunter.

  “I seem to have lost my appetite. Listen to me, Judd Raven. If you won’t accept my money because you feel it would put you in conflict with my father’s offer then you must have some sort of business ethics ....”

  “Business ethics sounds like a fancy term for holding up my end of a deal,” he drawled, that faint, frightening amusement lacing his words. “You can call it what you want, but doing the job I’ve agreed to do is just good business, period. A pilot doesn’t need a reputation for unreliability.”

  “That’s what you do for a living? I mean when you’re not kidnapping people?” she demanded. More and more it was beginning to look like Judd Raven was merely a tool. If she could somehow render him ineffective she might have a chance.

  “I run a small ferrying outfit in New Mexico,” he explained with a shrug. “When a businessman in Africa or South America or God-knows-where orders a small private plane from the U.S., he commissions an outfit like mine to fly the aircraft to wherever he is. You don’t just pack up a Cessna or a Beechcraft and ship it halfway around the world, you know. It’s got to be flown to where it’s needed.”

  “I gather ferrying planes doesn’t pay very well, or you wouldn’t be obliged to take on outside jobs like kidnapping,” Honor snapped impatiently.

  “No,” he agreed gently, “it doesn’t pay all that well. So I sometimes supplement my income with ‘outside jobs,’ as you put it. Are you finished with that tamale yet?”

  Honor looked down at the half-eaten tamale, knowing she was never going to finish it. Her stomach was twisted into one large knot. “Judd,” she began evenly, still focusing on the tamale, “will you at least listen to my side of the story?”

  He reached across the table and closed iron fingers around her wrist. “You can tell me your side of the story on the way back to Arizona. Come on, Honor, it’s getting late. Let’s go.”

  “No, please!”

  But he was already on his feet, drawing her up beside him. Throwing a handful of pesos down on the table, Judd Raven turned and led Honor out of the smoky cantina and into the balmy Mexican night. Instinctively Honor tried to fight the steady, inexorable grasp on her wrist but he simply ignored her efforts as he started down the dusty street. After a moment it was obvious he knew where she lived, and Honor
felt a new rush of despair. He must have asked about her before locating her in the cantina.

  “Won’t you at least listen to me?” she pleaded as he led her down the nearly silent street to the small cottage she had rented from the woman who owned the cantina. Aside from the crowd in the tavern there was very little sign of life at this hour. This was a farming community and most people were in bed early. The lack of electricity in many of the homes did not encourage late hours, either.

  “In the morning.” Judd sighed. “I really don’t feel like listening to fairy tales tonight. I’ve had a long, hard day.”

  Something about the way he said that told Honor there was no hope of ever getting him to listen to her side of the matter. As far as Judd Raven was concerned he had accepted a job and would see it through to the end. It undoubtedly suited him to know as little as possible about the details of a situation like this, Honor realized bitterly. He simply wanted to collect his pay and go on to the next job.

  If there was no hope of talking her way out of the situation then she really had no alternative but to use the gun. The thought of the deadly little weapon lying in the drawer beside her bed brought little comfort. In her heart of hearts she had prayed she would never have to use it. What was it going to be like, aiming that thing at another human being? Especially a human being who was only a tool, not the real source of danger? Would she really be able to pull the trigger if Judd Raven challenged her? He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would bluff very easily.

  But she had no choice. She had only herself to rely on. If Honor didn’t defend herself, no one would. Lifting her chin, she straightened her shoulders and began to deliberately summon the kind of resolve it would take to remove the wicked little gun from the bedside drawer.

  Her cottage was one of the more comfortable structures in town. It was blessed with a naked light bulb which dangled precariously from the ceiling, a very old bathroom and a small electric burner. Other than the bathroom there was only one room, which served as both living room and bedroom. The few pieces of furniture were threadbare and dilapidated.

  “You’ve been living here for four weeks?” Judd asked as he stepped through the door and scanned the stark interior. “I should think you’d be more than ready to go home by now!”

  “Nobody’s asking you to spend the night here,” she muttered tightly, her eyes straying quickly to the nightstand beside the single bed. “Perhaps you’d rather sleep in your plane?” she added icily.

  “No, thanks. I’ve slept in worse places than this. I just have a hard time imagining you being content here. It’s hardly Acapulco!”

  “But, then, you don’t really know me, do you?” she shot back, freeing her wrist to walk restlessly across the small room. She stood staring out the uncurtained window, her back toward the tall, dark man behind her. “You don’t know me at all.”

  There was a strange silence and then Judd said quietly, “You forget I’ve not only been told a great deal about you but I’ve been looking at that damned photograph your father gave me for a solid week.”

  She swung around angrily. “The photograph! What the hell can you learn from a picture?”

  “Not much, apparently,” he retorted unconcernedly. “Based on that photo I would have said you were a different sort of person than your father and brother described. In fact, when I first saw you in that cantina tonight I would have said you were... Never mind. You’re just not quite what I had imagined. Which only goes to show,” he went on carelessly, examining the bed, “how deceptive appearances can be.”

  “Somehow I get the impression your appearance isn’t deceptive in the least,” Honor gritted. “You look exactly like you seem to be. A cold, hard, inhuman man who’s only interested in collecting his pay for this dirty little job.”

  “Now that we understand each other,” he said smoothly, “let’s get ready for bed, shall we? You don’t have to look at me like that, you know. I’ll be sleeping on the floor. That lumpy mattress doesn’t look much more comfortable than these boards, anyway. You’re welcome to it.”

  Honor stood still beside the window, watching as Judd methodically confiscated a couple of the worn blankets and spread them out on the floor. When he’d finished he glanced up, examining her tense face. “I have to get a couple of things out of the plane. You’d better come with me.” He turned abruptly toward the door and opened it. When she made no move to follow he glanced back and said laconically, “I know there’s nowhere you can run in this village. I’m aware of the fact that you left your car back in the States and that you traveled through Mexico on buses. You probably can’t get into too much trouble in the ten minutes it’s going to take me to get my things from the plane, but just the same I’ll feel more comfortable if you’re with me. I wouldn’t want to return to find you’ve made another half-hearted attempt on your wrists.”

  Honor went white. “Damn you!” she whispered savagely.

  “Come here, Honor,” he ordered quietly. “Don’t make me drag you through the streets to the plane and back.”

  It was a small thing, this business of ordering her to cross the room and accompany him, but Honor sensed immediately that he was doing it deliberately. Judd was establishing the rules, making it clear that he was in charge. He probably thought that if he took a firm enough position she would simply give up and stop fighting him. As far as he was concerned she was a spoiled brat who happened to be nearly thirty. Spoiled brats were traditionally best handled by a dose of discipline.

  Didn’t he realize that when you were fighting for your life you didn’t play by anyone else’s rules?

  Still, this was not the time to go into battle. Common sense dictated that she give an appearance, at least, of resigning herself to her lot. Honor’s sensitive mouth tightened ominously but she silently crossed the room.

  “That’s better,” Judd approved, opening the door. “Behave yourself and we’ll get along just fine.”

  Perhaps, Honor decided objectively, it wouldn’t be so difficult using the gun on him later! The man had it coming.

  The Cessna 185/Skywagon was perched in the desert on the side of the dirt road into town. In the moonlight Honor could see the high wings and the old-fashioned tailwheel. It was painted a light color, difficult to discern in the shadows. She hated it on sight. Up until now there had been a pleasant feeling of isolation and remoteness about the small Mexican village. There were few cars in town and only a weekly bus. The plane removed that sensation of being out of touch with civilization. Once on board the Cessna she would be lost.

  Judd opened the cabin door on the pilot’s side and reached into the cockpit to remove a small, weather-beaten overnight bag. Honor watched in silence as he checked the inside of the cabin and then she waited a few more minutes while he verified that the wheels were firmly chocked. She watched his hand linger for another few seconds on the tail as he gave a last, assessing glance at the preparations he had made, and suddenly Honor realized that he must have already checked out the plane for the night. The current attention was probably wholly unnecessary. But there was something in the way he touched the metal and eyed the wheels that annoyed her in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

  “Is that plane the only thing you care about? You act as if you’re tucking it in for the night!” she muttered disgustedly.

  “The plane and I have an understanding,” he told her dryly. “I take care of it and it takes care of me. As a companion it has definite virtues. No tantrums, no back talk, no arguments.”

  “How dull for you!” Honor spun around on her heel, plunged her hands disconsolately into the back pockets of her jeans and started back along the road into town.

  “I suppose it would seem a little dull to you,” Judd allowed quietly. He paced beside her with that long, flowing stride of his, which was coming to remind her of a lazily circling bird of prey. “After all, you apparently thrive on causing scenes and c
reating chaos. I prefer a quieter sort of life.”

  “Ferrying planes around the globe is a quiet life?” she scoffed, not looking at him.

  “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be alone in the cabin of a small aircraft for up to eighteen hours straight? No one to talk to, nothing to keep you going except coffee and sandwiches? It’s quiet, all right! The world feels empty.”

  “I didn’t think small private planes carried enough fuel for that long a trip,” Honor muttered, telling herself she really didn’t want to start a conversation with him. Now that she had decided to use the gun she realized she didn’t want to talk to him at all. Talking brought the danger of communication, and communication meant a risk of understanding. She didn’t want to understand or communicate with a man she might have to shoot later.

  “The planes are outfitted with special long-distance tanks for the ferrying trips.”

  “Oh.”

  “It has its compensations, you know,” he went on softly. “My business, I mean.”

  “It sounds pretty damn frightening to me! I can’t imagine being alone in a small airplane out over the middle of the Atlantic. If things went wrong...” She shuddered, an image of lonely terror streaking through her mind.

  “Yes.” He was silent for a moment. “But there are other times. Times when the sun is coming up and you feel like you’re the only person alive in the world to see it. Or when you’re flying over a deserted stretch of jungle and you realize what the world must have been like when it was younger.”

  She risked a quick look at him, her gaze sliding off his hard profile as soon as it touched. “You’re a real loner, aren’t you?”

  “Most of the people in my line of work are,” he said dismissingly. “I guess that’s why we get into the business in the first place.”

  “It must be strange feeling closer to an airplane than to other human beings!” Honor didn’t attempt to hide the scorn in her voice.