“Please don’t do this,” she begged.
He wasn’t interested in her pleas. Not while the blaze inside him burned so hot. While she watched, he unbuttoned his jeans, released his dick. Blood rushed through his brain. He could feel it in his temples, throbbing. He shoved her legs apart, held her down with his weight and plunged into her with one riotous thrust and a shout of triumph.
Her shriek of pain stopped him, but only for the time it took to raise his head and gaze into her face. Eyelids shut tight. Teeth gritted. Liar, he thought. His dick was drowning in her wet passage. He shifted his weight, rocked his hips more slowly, felt her wiggle beneath him.
“That’s it, baby. You know you like this. You want it as bad as I do.”
“I want you to get off me.”
The damn bitch. She had ruled the roost since the day she’d climbed into the back of his pickup with him. Suckered him into believing she was ready and willing. Set her trap like the spider she was. And he’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Well, not this time. He tightened his hold on her hands. This time he was in charge, and she could come along willingly. Or not.
“No, Mariah. You ambushed me into marrying you. Now you owe me.” Jorgé grasped a handful of her hair, dragged her head back so he could look into her eyes. When he lowered his mouth to kiss her, she bit his lip. Drew blood. He ran his tongue carefully along his lip, then sucked the warm liquid into his mouth. “You’re gonna pay for that.”
He pulled her head back, exposing her neck. She squirmed beneath him, but her bucking only excited him more. He thrust deeper. Withdrew. Plunged again. Sank his teeth into the soft flesh where her neck and shoulder met. That special spot where she liked for him to brand her with his kiss. He smiled, licked a salty tear from her cheek. She would wear this vampire kiss a lot longer than she would a hickey.
“I hate you.”
“At least you feel something. That’s better than the nothing you’ve given me for the last four months.”
The icy daggers she hurled at him with her blue eyes only served to stir the flames already scorching his loins. Breathing like a wild man, he imagined her gaze deepen with passion the deeper he plunged into her. Faster. Harder. Until all sense of sanity was lost, his only thought to reduce the fire to ashes and claim his prize.
“Come with me, Mariah. You know you want to.”
“Let go of my hands… Jorgé.”
Her soft, silky whisper of his name reminded him of their first night together when she had lain naked in his arms, murmuring it over and over. He smiled at her. “Mariah, put your legs around me.” His gaze never strayed from hers while he shifted his weight to allow her to wrap her legs around his back. “Tighter.”
They were both breathing hard as her hands circled his neck. He sank deep inside her, felt her tremble when his release surged into her. His last thought before she raked his face with her claws was that tonight they might have made another baby.
“Get out,” she whispered. The want he thought he’d seen earlier had turned to disgust.
Jorgé didn’t bother to say good-night before closing the front door behind him. Mariah wouldn’t have answered anyway, and he needed to get to work. Avoid suspicion. He’d blown things with her big time tonight, but in his defense, she’d had it coming. He wasn’t some puppy dog she could lead around by a leash. He had needs. He had rights. He had a face smothered in antiseptic cream.
Of course, her face wasn’t exactly model material at the moment, either.
Six hours later, Jorgé was hiding out in the Caravan Tap Room, enjoying a drink, and craving the peaceful solitude of smoking a toke. Two more days. Then he could walk away from this crap life and head for Mexico. Trouble was, he didn’t want to go home right now and face Mariah. He wasn’t feeling guilty, just not interested in a rematch.
“Hey, my friend, what happened to you?” Without waiting for an invitation, Rudy pulled out a chair and joined Jorgé at the table.
“Got in a fight with my old lady.”
“Looks like she nailed you.”
Jorgé drained the remainder of his beer. “If all you’re gonna do is make fun of me, you can leave any time.” When Rudy held up his hands in retreat, Jorgé covered his embarrassment with bravado. “Besides, I got in my share of punches. You should see her face.”
“Woman’s got to know who’s boss.”
Jorgé stared into his empty glass. “I’ve never hit her before. Or forced her, you know.”
Rudy chuckled, then leaned closer. “Sometimes both actions can be… stimulating, if you know what I mean.”
“You’re not the one without a bed for the night. Or day, in my case.”
Rudy reached into his pocket and withdrew a key. He slid it across the table. “I’m gonna be busy until noon. You can crash at my place. Relax.”
Jorgé couldn’t believe his good fortune. “You serious, man?”
“Hey, I’ll even throw in a little present to make you feel better.” He slipped a bag of weed to Jorgé under the table. “Enjoy.”
“Thanks man. I owe you.”
“A debt I’m sure to collect someday.”
Rudy’s smile was more feral than friendly. Good thing he was leaving town soon, Jorgé thought, as he pocketed the key and the grass, then said good-bye and left the bar. Three weeks ago, his only problem had been a job he hated. Now he was neck deep in bad guys with only one way out. Get the mask safely into Mexico, collect the rest of his money, and disappear.
Hopefully alive.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mariah woke two hours later, holding tight to her knees in a fetal position. How could Jorgé have attacked her like this? She wasn’t ready for sex, and he knew it. Obviously, he was no longer the man she’d married. The man who had whispered Spanish love poems in her ears while they’d made love beneath the stars. What a fool she’d been. When she’d told her mother she was pregnant, the woman had nearly disowned her on the spot. Instead, her mother had told her it was her duty to the baby to find the father and make him marry her.
That certainly turned out well, didn’t it?
Right from the start, Jorgé had been jealous of her success. Tonight she’d rubbed his nose in his failure, and he’d made her pay for it. A huge mistake she would never make again. She turned over to lie on her back and stared at the dark ceiling. Felt wet and sticky between her legs. And sore. She fought tears. Damn it. The son of a bitch could’ve waited.
The baby’s whimpers grew into a squall. Mariah crawled off the bed, limped to the crib and picked him up. “Hush now, Joey,” she whispered into his tiny ear. “It’s okay. Mama’s here.”
But should she stay here?
This was not the first time that question had run through her mind. Every time her worthless husband lost his job and came home whining that it was the other guy’s fault, she had thought of leaving him. She would be better on her own, she’d told herself a million times. At her last job review, her boss at Wal-Mart had told her that good workers were hard to find. That she could rise to manage a store someday. Be the boss herself.
The only thing holding her back was Jorgé. Tonight what was left of her feelings for him had died with the first blow to her face. It was best to leave now. Before he could sweet talk her out of it. Or beat her into submission. She cradled the sleeping baby in her arms, then laid him into the crib and gazed at his innocent face. How long would it be before Jorgé turned his temper from her to their son?
While Joey slept, Mariah took a shower and made plans. If she was going to leave, she had to do it in such a way that Jorgé wouldn’t suspect she’d left him and begin an immediate pursuit. That meant she would have to leave nearly everything behind. He had already taken much of the cash she kept in her purse, but so far he hadn’t found the money she’d been hiding away for Joey’s college fund. Or at least she assumed he hadn’t, since none of it was missing.
Mariah dressed quickly, knowing the only place she could go was to her mother. If Jor
gé did suspect that was where she’d gone, he would be in for a big surprise. Smiling to herself, she tucked the letter with her mother’s new address into the diaper bag along with half a dozen diapers and a change of clothes for Joey. She stuffed a change of underwear into her purse, set Joey into his carrier, and wrote a quick note to Jorgé.
Had to go to work early. Inventory, so I’ll be home late. Left José at your mother’s. She asked to keep him until Saturday.
She had no idea if Jorgé would believe her, but this might buy her some time. Calling the baby José might also make him think he’d won tonight’s battle. She took one last look around, said good-bye to their nice clean apartment, and locked the door behind her.
* * *
“Cal Murdoch, you son of a gun!” Ken Watson pumped the tanker driver’s hand. “It’s been months since you’ve been through here.”
“Taking a full load into San Sebastian, then it’s home to Ally.” Cal rocked his hips back and forth. “I’ve been on the road for three of the longest weeks of my life. Can’t wait to get inside my woman.”
Ken chuckled. “Same old Cal. You two been married how long?”
“Going on ten years, but who’s counting. She’s still one hot mama, and I’m a marshmallow just waiting to be sucked into her mouth.”
“You’re a real romantic.”
“We like it fast and furious.” Cal slapped his friend on the back. “Hey, buddy, you’re not so bad yourself. How many times you got Beth knocked up?”
“Four. Same number of times you two stood as godparents. Toby’s in fifth grade now.”
“Shit. And no new one on the way? What’s wrong with you, man?”
“Too tired. Beth’s on days now, and this here all-night truck stop don’t run on its own.”
Cal stretched, then reached for the diesel pump handle and inserted his credit card. “Poor excuse, my friend. Sex is the staff of life.”
“I thought that was bread.”
“Not in the Murdoch household.”
Ken watched while his friend finished filling the cab’s fuel tank. He and Cal had met each other during Desert Storm, back when they had been young and hungry for adventure. War, up front and personal, had changed things, and they’d both traded in their uniforms for civvies at the first opportunity. Then Cal had met Allison Davis at a dance club in San Diego, and Elizabeth Mitchell had caught his eye during San Diego State’s orientation week. Now it seemed like the four of them had been friends forever.
Cal pulled the receipt from the machine and tucked it into his wallet. He yawned, shook his head and stretched.
Ken followed suit with a yawn of his own and glanced at his watch. “Shit, Cal, it’s 2:00 in the friggin’ morning. Why don’t you stay here for the night? I have two rooms available.”
“Nah, I already got one, ready and waiting.” He wiggled his eyebrows, then winked and reached up to open the cab door. “I’ll see you on the flip flop, buddy.”
“There’s some construction on the highway. Be careful.”
“No sweat. Couple, three hours, then I’ll be home. Give Beth a big kiss for me, and tell her she should see to it that you get laid more often.”
Ken laughed and shook his head. “Go on. Get out of here. Next time I see Ally, she had better be pregnant.”
Cal climbed into the cab and lowered the window. “Doesn’t seem to work for us, but we keep trying.” He gave Ken a thumbs up.
Ken waited while the motor roared to life. He waved, then watched while Cal’s rig left the pumps behind and headed toward the CA-56 on-ramp. Maybe his crazy friend was right. All this talk of sex had him wondering whether Beth would be pissed if he woke her.
* * *
Cal turned the radio louder while he sang along with Toby Keith. Yeah, he should’ve been a cowboy. Yawning, he reached for a can of soda from the cooler sitting on the floor in front of the passenger seat. Opened it and downed the contents in two swallows. His fingers tapped the steering wheel in time to the music. He liked the road at night. Liked the solitude. Less traffic. He’d been a truck driver going on ten years now, ever since he and Ally got married. She used to travel with him, and he liked that best. His cab had a nice little room behind the seats with a tiny kitchenette, a private toilet, and most important, a three-quarter bed. Back in the early days, that bed saw a lot of activity. He would pull off the highway at a rest area, park far enough away not to be disturbed, and he and Ally would go at it. Sometimes two or three times in one day. Cal sighed. He missed those days.
Now that Ally had a real good job managing a bank, her traveling days had ended. Not to say they didn’t fuck like rabbits when he was home. They did. He just wasn’t home long enough, and he missed her something awful when he was on the road. Cal never worried about there being anybody else. He knew his woman. He would walk through the door, and she’d have him stripped naked before they hit the living room. Sometimes before he made it out of the garage.
Just thinking about her had his dick throbbing in his pants and his butt squirming in the seat. I’m coming home to you, baby. His foot pressed harder on the gas.
* * *
Mariah stepped through the automatic doors and into the Greyhound Bus Terminal. The lobby area hadn’t changed much since she’d arrived in San Sebastian nine months ago, pregnant and praying her baby’s father would acknowledge paternity and marry her. Now she was running away from him. She closed her eyes, swallowed her fear and approached the ticket counter.
She set the baby carrier with the diaper bag attached to it at her feet and smiled, unable to tell if the man facing her was tired or simply bored. “I’d like to purchase a ticket to Modesto, please.”
He stretched across the counter to look down at her luggage, then turned his gaze to her face and frowned. She lifted her chin, doubly glad she’d decided to take extra time with her makeup. The bruises barely showed. “Your baby will need to ride in that carrier in the seat next to you,” he stated, “so that will be two tickets, one adult, one child.”
“Can’t I hold him in my lap and check the carrier?”
“Sorry, ma’am. Against the rules. The busses have seatbelts now. You’ll need to hook him in.” The agent waited. Sighed. “Bus leaves in ten minutes. You want the seats or don’t you?”
Mariah considered her meager supply of cash. No way would she use her credit card. She’d seen too many TV cop shows. Credit cards left a trail. “All right, but it’s highway robbery.”
“You’re welcome to make a complaint to management.”
She handed him the money. “Maybe I will.”
“San Sebastian to Modesto via San Bernardino, boarding in five minutes.” He handed her two boarding passes and a map of the route. “Gate Four. Have a nice trip.”
Mariah scowled at him, picked up the carrier and headed for the gate. She glanced at the clock on the wall. 2:15 a.m. At least she wouldn’t have to wait long. Because she had a child, she was allowed to board first. She set the carrier in the window seat, then looped the seat belt strap through the bottom section. Joey had slept through it all, for which Mariah was grateful. The last thing she needed was a crying baby annoying the rest of the passengers and calling unwanted attention to her. She settled into her seat, buckled the seatbelt and was already dozing when the bus left the station.
Jorgé had found her. Marched toward her, a baseball bat in his hand.
The cry of a baby dragged her out of the dream and back to reality. Her gaze darted to the other passengers. Several frustrated faces greeted her. Heart thundering in her chest, she smiled her apology, then quickly unhooked the carrier’s seatbelt and turned it toward her.
“What’s the matter, Joey? Are you wet or hungry?” Probably both, she thought, reaching into the bag for a diaper and one of the three disposable bottles of formula she had mixed before leaving the apartment. It would be best to feed him first. She uncapped the bottle and stuck the nipple into Joey’s mouth. He sucked greedily, his dark eyes intent on her face.
She put the wet diaper into a plastic bag she had brought along for that purpose. During the short amount of time it took for her to set the bag at her feet, Joey drifted off to sleep. A full tummy and dry bottom did that. She smiled into his serene, untroubled face. Tomorrow they would begin their new life together.
“I promise I’ll keep you safe,” she whispered, kissing his soft baby cheek. Mariah closed her eyes, and as she floated off into dreamland, something in the back of her mind nagged at her.
Something she’d forgotten to do.
* * *
Cal struggled to keep his eyes open as he rounded the curve at the turnoff to Carmel Valley Road and sailed down the hill toward San Sebastian. Lights from the oncoming traffic flashed in his eyes. He shook his head, blinked several times to clear the brightness, then leaned over to reach for another soda. Hesitated when he felt the tires scrape across a rough patch of road, then lose traction. He wondered briefly if this was the construction Ken had mentioned. Saw the signs up ahead too late, hit the brakes too hard. Sensed the load shift and tried to compensate. The trailer behind him twisted to the left, dragging his rig off the asphalt and onto loose gravel. He fought for control of the steering wheel as truck and trailer plunged headlong across the median. When all was lost, Cal lifted his arms in a useless attempt to shield his face from the collision he knew was coming.
An Equation For Murder Page 15