by Anne Stuart
“And they have Soledad?” she demanded.
“And the smartphone.”
“But what would they want with Soledad? There’s no one who’d pay a ransom for her. Well, I would, but they don’t know that . . .”
“Just how big an idiot are you? It’s not what they want with Soledad, it’s what she wants with them. She’s no victim; she’s involved in this whole stinking business.”
“And you have proof of that?” she demanded coolly.
“No. Just instinct.”
“Well, my instincts tell me she’s just what she said she is. An innocent victim like all the others.”
“And your brother didn’t realize what he was doing when he got involved in selling women and children into the sex trades?”
She shuddered. “Of course not.”
“Then explain something to me. Who else knows you have his smartphone, and how did they find out?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I won’t believe my brother really understood what he was doing. And I think whoever came after the smartphone took Soledad as well.”
“Why?”
“Why?” she echoed. “I don’t know. I don’t understand the minds of sociopaths—that’s more your style.”
His short laugh was humorless. “Afraid I don’t qualify as a sociopath, Parker, despite what you think. I can’t fault you for your loyalty . . . wait a minute, yes I can. Your loyalty has brought down a shitstorm on us, and if we don’t get that smartphone back, then whatever information is on it will be available for the Guiding Light and anyone else to use. Which means the human trafficking will continue, and you’ll bear some of the responsibility.”
She said nothing, turning her head to stare at the deepening countryside around them. There was nothing she could say. Ryder was right on one count—if she’d turned her brother over, then any information he had would have stopped with him. If she’d simply handed over the damned smartphone, then all this could have been resolved. Her brother was far enough away that Ryder couldn’t get to him, but the infrastructure of the human trafficking would be compromised, and it would be a lot harder to rebuild.
“You’re right,” she muttered.
She could feel his eyes on her. “What did you say?”
She turned to look at him. He looked dangerous in the bright sunlight, unshaven, sunglasses shading his wolf’s eyes, and unwillingly she remembered the feel of him on top of her, inside her, his mouth between her legs, and she wanted to curl up and die. From shame, and from wanting more.
“I said you were right. If I’d just handed over the phone all this could have been avoided. My brother would have had to stay out of reach of the police, but that could have been accomplished, and he deserves at least some punishment for what he did, even if he didn’t recognize how awful it was. Exile from the US is the least of what he should suffer, no matter how much the family will miss him.”
“The family or you?”
“Not me. I hadn’t even seen him in almost a year. I don’t have anything to do with my family.”
“Then what makes you think he’s still the lily-white soul you think he is?”
“I told you, you’re right. I have no idea who he really is at this point. I’m just trusting my instincts. He’s the only member of my family who’s still worth anything, and I’m not ready to write him off.”
He sighed. “All right, I’ll get off your case. But you’re in for some nasty surprises.”
“I think I’ve had enough nasty surprises to last me,” she said, leaning back and closing her eyes. The wind ruffled her hair, cooled some of the sweat, and this was probably the closest she was going to get to air-conditioning. “Wake me when we get there.”
By the time Ryder pulled into the tiny village and brought the jeep to a halt, Jenny was ready to scream. The roads had been so bumpy and rutted there was no way she could sleep, and making idle conversation had been out of the question. All she could do was brood. And remember the feel of him inside her.
She opened her eyes reluctantly, looking around her, and was half tempted to close them again. Their stopping place could barely be called a village. There was a run-down cantina, a tiny store with a gas pump that looked as if it was pre–World War II, and chickens wandering the dusty road. “Where are we?”
“A little town called Talaca. Apparently when the Guiding Light come down from the mountains, they end up here.”
Alarm shot through Jenny. “And we just waltz in?”
“We drove in, Parker. And they’re not here now. Not yet. Want a beer?”
“What?” Her voice rose an octave. “Are you crazy?”
“Nope. And you’re not staying out here alone. If you don’t want beer I’m sure they have juice or something, but I think a beer would relax you.”
She gritted her teeth. “I’m perfectly relaxed.”
“Sure you are. That’s why you’ve been clenching your fists for the last four hours.”
“It was a bumpy road,” she said self-righteously.
“It’s a bumpy life. Out of the jeep, gorgeous. We have things to do.”
Gorgeous? Did he just call her gorgeous? She was a lot of things—attractive, even pretty by some people’s standards, but she could hardly be called gorgeous. She looked at him to see if he was mocking her, but he was fiddling with something in the jeep. She watched in horror as he pulled out a large and nasty-looking handgun, tucked it in the back of his jeans, and then pulled on a rough jacket.
“You know, anyone watching from the cantina will know you’re carrying a gun,” she pointed out in a cranky voice.
“I’m counting on it.” He came around to her side of the jeep. “Are you climbing out or do I have to make you?”
“How do you think that would look?”
“Like a man making sure his woman obeys him,” he said lazily.
“I’m not your woman!”
“I didn’t say you were. I said that’s what it would look like. Now stop arguing and get out of the fucking car. And keep your mouth shut once we’re in the cantina. In case you haven’t realized it, Calliveria is a man’s world, and women should be seen and not heard.”
She unfastened her seat belt and climbed out, simply because she knew he’d haul her out if she didn’t. “You know I really hate you, don’t you?” she said bitterly, trying to stretch her aching muscles.
“Sure you do, Parker. You hate me about as much as I hate you.” There was something in his voice, and she looked up quickly, but his expression gave away nothing.
“Well, as long as we understand each other,” she said stiffly.
He laughed, the bastard. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.” He took her arm, and she tried to yank free, but he simply tightened his grip as they climbed up the front steps of the run-down cantina.
The place was empty. An electric fan spun lazily overhead, stirring up a haze of dust motes in the late afternoon sun. All Jenny could think of was some of the old westerns she’d watched—she half expected to see dance-hall girls and gamblers. The bar, however, was a simple length of wood at the far end of the room, and by the time they reached it a pretty young girl in a low-cut blouse had appeared, smiling at them.
“What can I do for you, señor?” she said in Spanish, not even bothering to glance at Jenny. And what woman would, she thought, if there was a man who looked like Ryder nearby—anyone else would fade into insignificance.
“Dos cervezas,” he said. “And maybe you could help us.”
“Of course, señor,” she said, and her eyes drifted over Jenny for a moment, then dismissed her. Bitch, Jenny thought amiably. The two lukewarm beers appeared on the scarred wooden countertop. “It’s not often we see turistas in Talaca.” She was clearly fishing for information, but Ryder didn’t seem inclined to deny her.
“We’re looking for my girlfriend’s half sister. She and Soledad had a fight, and the last we heard she’d come down here. Of course Jenny wants to find her and apologize,
but we have no idea where she is. Perhaps I might show you a photo?”
“Of course, señor. But I have seen no strange women around here for weeks. Your ‘girlfriend’ is the first.”
Jenny could hear the virtual quotes around the word girlfriend and her temper rose. Obviously a man like Ryder could have anyone he wanted, and the girl at the bar wanted to make Jenny understand that any hold she had on him was tenuous at best.
But that was minor compared to the shock of hearing him call her Jenny. She’d always been Ms. Parker, or plain Parker, and to hear him call her by her first name was oddly unsettling.
Ryder had passed a photograph of Soledad across the bar, and Jenny wondered where he’d gotten it. Then she mentally kicked herself. There had been cameras all over the house in the Garden District—they would have had a dozen photographs.
The young woman glanced down at the photo, then back up at Ryder. “I have never seen her before.” She glanced at Jenny. “They do not look much alike, do they?”
“She was adopted,” Ryder said easily. “Are you certain you haven’t see her?”
“I am afraid not. Is there any other way I can help you?”
“You can tell me where we might find a place to stay for the night. We’ve been driving all day and I’m bone tired, and my woman doesn’t drive on roads like these.”
His woman felt like snarling. She’d driven through rain forests in Costa Rica and mud season in Vermont—these roads were a piece of cake compared to those.
“Then she is lucky to have a big strong man to take care of her,” the girl purred.
Oh, gag me with a spoon, Jenny thought.
“I’m afraid there are no rooms here, and this is a very poor village. The nearest town would be thirty miles to the south, but you came that way.”
Of course she’d been watching, Jenny thought. She would have seen not only the gun but also the hostile dynamic between the two of them.
She’d had enough of being silent. “We’re not fussy,” she spoke up, and she felt Ryder’s start of surprise and disapproval. “We just need a bed for the night, and we’ll leave first thing in the morning. Even a single bed will do—we like to cuddle.”
Ryder coughed, but the girl behind the counter didn’t notice. “There is no place,” she said. And then her forehead wrinkled. “Unless . . .”
“Unless what?” Jenny said.
“Are you afraid of ghosts?”
Jenny just looked at her, and the girl shrugged. “Maybe they won’t bother you. There is an old convent on the edge of town. Missionaries used to live there, teach the local children, take care of the sick. The jungle is starting to take over by now, but various travelers have stayed there with no problem.”
“Who are the ghosts?” She didn’t believe in malevolent ghosts, though she was open enough to otherworldly energy. She could practically hear Ryder snort in disbelief.
“The priest and the women from town who helped out were killed by the Guiding Light a couple of years ago. It is said you can see lights at night, sometimes, and that Father Pascal is looking for the lost children.”
“Lost children?” Jenny echoed, horrified.
“Some of the children who attended the school never returned that day, and no one knows what happened to them.”
“I think we’ll take our chances with the ghosts,” Ryder said, taking over the conversation and smiling at the girl. Really smiling, using all his latent charm, and Jenny wanted to scream. He’d never smiled at her like that, never made the slightest attempt to charm her. “We’re really bone tired.”
“You need food? Come back and I will cook for you. This is my uncle’s cantina, and he pours the drinks in the evening while I take care of the tables. I can bring you something to eat during my break if you like.”
Jenny really didn’t like the girl. “No, thank you,” she said sweetly before Ryder had a chance to answer. “I can cook for my man.” She used the term deliberately, just to goad him, but he didn’t even blink. He probably approved of her territorial stance.
“Yes, thank you . . . ?” Ryder prompted.
“Rosario,” she said sweetly, and Ryder smiled at her once more. “If you change your mind I will be here. If your girlfriend is too tired you can always come alone.”
Over Rosario’s dead body, Jenny thought grimly. She drained her warm, bitter beer, shuddered slightly, and then grabbed Ryder’s arm. “Let’s go, sweetheart,” she said brightly. “I want to get settled for the night.”
“Women,” he said, not a tactful statement in a room with only women inside. “How do we find this convent?”
So Ms. Jennifer Gauthier Parker didn’t like it when he flirted with other women, Ryder thought as he drove down the narrow, rutted road leading from the village. Then again, she didn’t like it when he flirted with her, so that didn’t mean anything. His companion was tired and cranky and he couldn’t really blame her. Six hours in the open jeep over these roads would make anyone cranky, himself included. They needed to get settled for the night, get something to eat, and then get a good night’s sleep.
“You didn’t care much for Rosario,” he said lazily. “Jealous?”
“Oh, please,” she protested. “Go spend the night with her—I’m sure that would make both of you very happy, and it would give me peace of mind.”
“You want to stay all alone in the haunted convent?” He took the left turn, deeper into the overgrown forest.
“I’m not afraid of ghosts,” she said flatly. “Besides, these were good guys who were killed. I’d think the Guiding Light would have more to fear from them.”
“Good point. But I don’t think you can count on the ghosts to keep the Guiding Light away from you. You’d be a plum asset—the daughter of a rich American gangster . . .”
“My father is not a gangster!”
“Close enough. They could get a nice ransom for you, and that’s one of their stocks in trade. I don’t think ghostly priests would be able to stop them.”
He could feel her reaction without having to look at her. “Rethinking the idea of sleeping alone?” he murmured. “That’s wise.”
She ignored him. “What if my father refused to pay my ransom? I’m basically persona non grata in the household, and I doubt he’d be willing to fork over much money.”
“Even though you put everything on the line to save your baby brother?”
“That was my choice, not his. I don’t want his gratitude and I’m not expecting any. He knew I didn’t do it for him.”
“Who did you do it for? Surely you’re not so stupid that you think your brother’s an innocent.”
“I’m not stupid. My brother may not have been innocent, but he didn’t know what he was getting involved in. He deserved a second chance.”
“To do the same thing all over again? How many people have to suffer until you decide he’s past redemption?”
She flushed. “If you must know, I did it for my mother.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of a mother.”
“Everybody has one, at least in the beginning. My mother died when I was thirteen and Billy was seven. I felt responsible for him.” She sounded brittle and matter-of-fact, but it was easy to read the pain beneath the cool words.
“Tough age to lose a mother,” he said mildly enough.
“There’s never a good time.”
“So after she died you decided you’d be Billy’s little mother, and now you’re willing to put lives on the line when you discover you’ve nurtured a sociopath.”
Dead silence. “Why are you such a nasty son of a bitch?” she said finally. “Did I run over your dog? Okay, yes, I did something wrong. Something very wrong, I take full responsibility. But it was done out of love.”
“So are a lot of bad things. Love and religion are two of the most dangerous things in human existence.”
Another long silence, and he kept his eyes on the road. He was being a nasty son of a bitch, and he wasn’t sure why.
“You must lead a very sad life,” she said finally. “Faith and love don’t do bad things; people do. They get confused, they make mistakes, because, unlike you, they’re human. I’m sorry no one ever loved you when you were young—you might not be such a cynical asshat if someone had.”
He had to stop baiting her. “I said religion, not faith. And I didn’t say love was bad, just dangerous.”
“At least you admit the existence of love,” she said in a brittle voice.
“I’m open to the possibility.”
“Bully for you.”
He made one more turn on the increasingly overgrown road, and he saw what must have been the old convent before him. The South American jungle had begun to encroach, and there were vines and foliage crawling over the old stucco walls, greenery everywhere. “Home sweet home,” he said.
Parker was looking up at it doubtfully. “Maybe we ought to keep driving.”
“We were never going any farther. The Guiding Light has used this place whenever they come down from the mountains, and right now they’re not more than ten klicks away.”
“We’re that close to a rebel army composed of criminals? Just the two of us? Who do you think you are, Rambo?”
“Soledad is with them, remember? If she’s a prisoner do you want to abandon her?”
“Of course not! I just don’t see how the two of us . . .”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he said, deliberately goading her. “I have a plan.” He put the jeep in park, looking at the dispiriting landscape.
“I’ve got a plan,” she said. “To stab you in your sleep.”
She surprised a laugh out of him. “Then you’d be up shit’s creek without a paddle.”
“That’s the only thing that’s keeping you alive, mister,” she said smartly, unfastening her seat belt and climbing out of the jeep. There was a large courtyard to one side of the building, and she started toward it.
He almost reminded her of her bag, then decided he’d given her enough shit for one day and grabbed it himself. “You really going to cook for me?” he said, coming up even with her.