by M. L. Rhodes
She huffed out a breath and held up her hands. “Look at me. I run a bookstore in Boston. The most adventurous thing I do in my life is decide whether to wear my hair down or in a ponytail when I stand in front of the mirror each morning. What you see is what you get. I have no deep dark secrets or hidden lives. I'm just me. A regular, boring girl from Massachusetts, who leads what most people probably think is a terribly boring life."
She stopped as the sobs she'd been fighting off for two days threatened again, except this time she was afraid she wouldn't be able to hold them back. She turned away, not wanting Miguel to see her give in to weakness.
But he didn't give her that privacy. He tugged her into his arms. “There is nothing even remotely boring about you. You're a hell of a woman, Elizabeth Sandringham."
At that, the dam broke. She buried her face in his chest and burst into tears.
CHAPTER 6
Miguel held her and let her cry. She'd been a trooper up to this point as far as he was concerned. Considering everything she'd been through, it was a wonder she hadn't dissolved into a quivering wreck hours ago. But he was learning that for all her soft looks and soft-spoken words, Elizabeth had an amazing internal strength that a lot of men he knew could learn something from.
She was—
Don't go there.
He couldn't help but go there, damn it. She was everything a man could ever want in the woman he decided to settle down and spend forever with. She was breathtaking—her natural beauty with no need for cosmetics, her real-woman curves, her open yet surprisingly guileless eroticism. He still felt dizzy every time he thought about the sight of her in the barn, her eyes half-closed with pleasure, and her breasts glistening with his freshly spent seed. Christ. But she also reached him on a very different level. She was smart, he suspected from little hints he'd seen that she had a good sense of humor, she was genuine, honest, and then there was that amazing strength.
He'd sworn off women, love, and relationships years ago and had never been tempted since. But in one day, Elizabeth was making him wonder if there might be hope for him yet.
As it had a bad habit of doing, however, reality pressed in again.
She thought he was a criminal, and, for now, it was best if she kept thinking it. With her honest nature, if he told her the truth, should the need arise for her to be around his men or, God forbid, Galista's men again, she'd never be able to pull it off. She'd do something to give the truth away ... a look at him, a word, something. And then they'd both be dead. No, it was best if her responses were genuine, if, in spite of her attraction to him, she kept thinking he was scum. Damn, it ate at his craw to let her continue to believe that, but at the moment, he didn't see a better option.
Right now, no matter how good she felt in his arms, he knew his only focus had to be on getting her out of here alive and finishing his job.
"It's going to be all right,” he murmured, stroking her hair as her sobs turned to sniffles.
"Is it?” Her voice was hoarse from crying.
"Before you know it you'll be back in your bookstore, ringing up sales, and making your customers happy. Of course you'll never make the grouchy ones happy. The ones who always want something you don't have and can't possibly get because it's not made anymore, and somehow they decide it's your fault. Bitch, bitch, bitch, nag, nag, nag."
A quiet, teary laugh came from the vicinity of his chest, which was exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for.
"I have one of those who's a regular. I can't figure out why he keeps coming back because we never have what he wants—weird stuff like Severin's Eclectic Guide to Sheepherding, or The Manual of Radioisotope Thermoelectric Blankets or something. He always leaves pissy. But two days later, there he is again, coming through the door with some other bizarre request."
She swiped the back of her hand across her face and finally looked up at him. The sight of her red-rimmed eyes tore at Miguel's heart.
"How do you know so much about pissy customers?’ she asked, a small smile turning up the corners of those sexy, sexy lips.
He caught himself just in time before he answered honestly. “Probably because I've been one of them a time or two.” He tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “It's getting late and we should get out of here."
She took a deep breath and nodded, and once again he admired her ability to pull herself together in a difficult situation.
A woman worth hanging on to.
If only life were that simple.
* * * *
They were almost to the barn—less than a hundred meters from it—when the sound of vehicles coming down the rutted path filled Elizabeth's ears.
"Run!” Miguel ordered.
She'd been trailing him, but he stopped and motioned her forward, even as he drew his gun. His face had that hard look she'd seen him use with his men last night.
Without hesitation, she broke into a run toward the barn.
The sound of vehicles grew closer and her terrified heart raced a marathon. Another thirty feet and they'd be there, but she knew they weren't going to make it before they were seen.
Miguel grabbed her arm and nearly whipped her off her feet as he pulled her behind an outcropping of large rocks just a second before an extended cab truck slid around a curve and stopped. A battered SUV followed. She could see through a thin crack between the boulders that three men had emerged from the first vehicle. It looked like one or two remained in the second. She couldn't quite make out the features of the group that walked toward the barn.
"Fuck,” Miguel muttered under his breath, watching. “The recording. They can't get it."
Elizabeth tried to make sense of his words. Then she remembered ... the pack under the front seat in the Explorer. She'd been right. He had a camera out on the mesa and he didn't want them to get the tape or DVD or whatever it was he'd retrieved.
"I've got to keep them out of the barn.” He closed his eyes, a look of angry frustration on his face as if he were torn about what to do. Then, with another grumbled curse, he lifted his gun above his head and fired it.
"Oh, God! They're going to find us and we're going to die!” she whispered. She squeezed her eyes closed, unable to watch what would happen. It was all she could do to breathe and not run screaming like a kid.
"Delgado!” a deep voice bellowed. “No need to have problems here. You know what we want,” it said in slightly accented English. “Give us the woman and we'll call it square."
Elizabeth's eyes flew open and her heart stopped. She looked at Miguel, but he had his attention focused on the men and didn't notice her shock.
They wanted her? Had Miguel been right all along? But why? Why?
"My men found her in El Piojo. They took her as a play thing,” Miguel called. “After they'd had their way with her, I got my turn. She's nothing but a useless white woman. What would Galista want with her?"
Elizabeth tried not to let the “useless” comment go to her heart—she knew, or at least hoped, Miguel was only saying it to make her seem unimportant.
"Galista has reasons that are none of your business. Just turn her over and we'll let you go your way. No harm done, and Galista will still give consideration to your proposal. Galista is aware you'd like to work for the cartel."
"Sí. But I do have to wonder what importance a white woman could have. Why should I turn esta mujer over with nothing but a promise my proposal will be considered? If Galista wants her, then I'm thinking Galista will be happy to pay well for her. A contract for me to transport heroin into the United States, plus a healthy amount for expenses. Say ... three hundred thousand dollars?"
Heroin? Three hundred thousand dollars? Elizabeth felt sick to her stomach. So Miguel was in the drug business. Would he really trade her for money and a chance to take drugs over the border?
The other man, the one who appeared to be the designated talker, laughed. It was a cold sound that sent a chill up Elizabeth's spine. “You insult Galista, Delgado! Here's another deal, o
ne you'd be smart to take. You turn over the woman, and Galista lets you live."
Miguel glanced at her, his eyes burning with intensity, yet she couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling. Fear coursed through her veins like ice. Oh, God. Was he going to give her to the men?
"I'm going to hold them off while you make a run for the barn,” he whispered.
Her heart stopped. She shook her head. “No. No! I can't. They'll shoot. There are too many of them."
"Listen to me! I won't let them have you or hurt you. You understand? But you've got to do what I say. Our only chance of getting out of here is to get to the vehicle in the barn."
Dizziness swept over her brought on by sheer terror.
He cupped her cheek. His eyes pleaded with her. “I'll get you out of here. Trust me.” When he suddenly kissed her, her emotions scattered into chaos.
"Delgado?” the bellowing voice called. “Make your choice!"
"When I tell you, you run as fast as you can to the barn and get in the Explorer. I'll be right behind you."
Elizabeth sucked in a shaky breath. There were too many of them and only Miguel with one gun. I don't want to die! But, finally, seeing no other choice, she nodded.
"Good girl.” He gave her a half-smile, but it lasted only a split second, then the stony mask settled over his face again.
"I'm thinking I'm not real crazy about this deal,” he yelled. “If Galista wants this woman, then I expect to be paid for her."
There was a scuffle out beyond the rocks, and another voice piped up. “Tell them what you were doing out here in the first place, so close to Galista's territory, boss! I followed you today, saw you up on that mesa. I'm sure Galista will be very interested in knowing what you were doing up there."
Elizabeth recognized the voice instantly—Ramirez! She look at Miguel, but he seemed unflustered by this turn of events.
"Come out, little rabbit!” Ramirez called. “Come out and let Ramirez show you how to scream with pleasure."
"I'm tired of talking,” Miguel shouted. “Back off and take my message to Galista saying I want payment for the woman. Or suffer the consequences."
A round of laughter was the only response.
Miguel looked at her. “On the count of three, run.” Then, without giving her time to argue, he held up one finger. A second. A third. He stepped out from behind the rock and fired his weapon. Elizabeth, fighting the urge to pass out, ran for it. Gunshots zinged all around her, at least it felt like it, and she knew any second one was going to hit her. Her heart pounded, her lungs squeezed from raw terror, but she continued to put one foot in front of the other until the stall door loomed ahead.
It slid open a foot for her and she squeezed through it, made her way between the wall and the SUV, opened the passenger door, and dove inside.
The driver's door popped open and Miguel slid into the seat. He shoved his key in the ignition and revved the vehicle to life.
"Hold on,” he growled. He slammed the shifter to reverse and gunned the engine just as the door was thrown wide open and two men entered. She couldn't tell whether they moved out of the way in time or not, but she didn't hear any thumps, and Miguel plowed onward without giving them a second glance.
The Explorer spun when he hit the brake, throwing up dirt, then he shifted, floored it again, and they shot forward. The front end clipped the front of the big truck on the way by, but suddenly they were bouncing up the rutted path at an alarming rate of speed.
Elizabeth clutched the seat and tried to breath. She couldn't seem to drag any air into her lungs.
When they reached the dirt road, Miguel swung right and their speed increased.
More shots were fired, and a cling echoed through the vehicle.
"Fuck!” Miguel reached behind him, threw off a blanket that had been covering objects in the rear seat, and pulled a rifle up in the front with them.
"Take the wheel,” he ordered.
"What?” she squeaked.
"Take the wheel. Slide in under me and drive."
"I..."
"Damn it, Beth! Just do it!"
While he powered down the driver's window, she took the wheel in her cold hands, dragged herself over the console between the seats, and, as he lifted himself up to sit on the edge of the window, facing back the way they'd come, she moved into the seat and put her foot on the gas. She barely fit into the tight space with his long legs pressed up against the door.
"Head for the highway,” he yelled.
Keeping her eyes locked straight ahead, she tried her damnedest to ignore the quick shots he fired from the semi-automatic rifle. Tried not to think about the shots that were being fired at them. Every now and then one would ping the SUV, and at one point the back window shattered. But her body had gone into auto-pilot mode, while her brain tuned out.
Just keep driving. Keep driving.
With her foot pressed nearly to the floor on the gas pedal, and her hands steering out of pure instinct, that's exactly what she did.
It felt like an eternity. In truth, she had no idea how much time passed. All she knew was that each minute that went by she was still alive. And that's all that counted.
Miguel let off another spitting round of gunfire, and a moment later she thought she heard a crash.
All was silent except the sound of the engine whining and the Explorer bouncing up the dirt road at break-neck speed. She didn't dare look at Miguel, look behind her.
At long last, she saw Miguel's hand come down on the steering wheel.
"Slide over.” His voice was low and oddly calm after everything that had happened.
She heard him, but couldn't move.
"It's okay, sweetheart. Slide over. I can take it from here."
The endearment caused a tiny crack in the protective veneer she'd raised around herself. Her hands began to shake, her breath rattled out of her. Slowly, she inched up and to the right, but kept her foot on the gas until he eased into the seat and took over.
He slowed the vehicle a bit, but not much.
Elizabeth continued to gasp air into her tight lungs and fight the numbness that wanted to swallow her.
"Are you okay?” he asked. “Are you hurt at all?"
She shook her head as she stared straight ahead. “No. I'm ... I'm okay, I think. What about them? Are they...?"
"Stopped for now. But we have to find a place to disappear because as soon as they can get reinforcements, they'll be looking for us."
They'd reached the highway and he turned left, the opposite direction from which they'd come. He stepped on the gas, and Elizabeth watched as the speedometer crept up to sixty, seventy, eighty, and finally settled somewhere around ninety.
"Ramirez...?"
"Was never trustworthy. I figured he'd betray me eventually. I just didn't know when."
"They really wanted me. Why, Miguel? I don't understand. I'm just a regular person."
His fingers closed around hers and squeezed gently. “I've told you, I suspect you saw or heard something Galista is concerned about. Think back again, all the way to when you first arrived in Acapulco. There has to be something."
"I've been in Mexico five days. I can't think of anything. Nothing. I've just done normal stuff.” Her voice grew breathless and high-pitched as panic swept through her. “I ... I haven't seen or heard anything..."
"Shhh. There's got to be something. Relax and think, and maybe it will come to you."
She closed her eyes, hoping for an epiphany. But as the miles slid behind them and the evening wore on, her jumbled brain offered nothing.
She must have dozed off because when she opened her eyes the orangey-red glow of sunset curled around the vehicle, and they were driving in the mountains.
"Where are we?"
"Disappearing. I know of a place we can stay for the night."
His voice sounded quiet, too quiet, causing Elizabeth to turn and really look at him for the first time since they'd escaped. His complexion, usually a deep tan, was pa
le, and there were squinty lines radiating out from his eyes and mouth.
"Are you okay?"
He gave her a quick glance. “Fine."
But she saw pain his eyes ... those expressive brown eyes.
"No, you're not. Let me see.” She leaned closer and discovered blood on the left side of his shirt and lap—dried, and fresh rivulets. “Oh, my God! Miguel! You were hit. Where?"
"My arm. It'll be okay.” Again, his voice was unnaturally quiet.
"Maybe, but you've lost a lot of blood. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
She searched around but could find nothing besides the ratty wool blanket in back to use to stop the bleeding. Finally, she jerked her T-shirt up and over her head.
"What are you doing?” He glanced at her again and his eyes widened when he saw her bare breasts."
"Helping you."
She leaned across the console to get a better look at his arm. It just had to be his left one, so there was no easy way to get to it while he was driving. “Can you move it at all? Maybe a little closer to me?"
She thought she heard him muffle a groan as he eased it toward her.
Using one section of the shirt, she wiped away as much blood as she could until she had a better view of the actual wound. Oh, Lord. His gray shirt had a gaping hole in the sleeve between his shoulder and bicep and she could see the red, jagged skin where the bullet had entered. When she touched it, a fresh wave of blood rushed from it. She pressed the shirt against it and held it there, putting pressure on it. He grimaced, and she saw his jaw tighten, but he didn't complain.
"We've got to get you some help. You need a doctor."
"No doctors around here. I'll be okay. We're almost to...” His words faded out.
"Miguel. You're—"
"We're almost there. I'll be all right."
He turned off the winding road and followed a dirt one that zigzagged straight up.
Elizabeth could tell it was taking all his energy to concentrate on driving, which was the only reason she kept her mouth shut and didn't continue to nag him. But she was scared. He didn't look good. He'd lost a lot of blood, and she suspected he was close to passing out. She continued to hold the T-shirt against the wound in his arm, and said several prayers that he wouldn't black out while they were in one of the steep hairpin turns that seemed to be the norm on this skinny road.