"Do you intend to sleep with that gun?"
"Yes."
"The gun bothers me more than your being sweaty." And your naked chest bothers me more than the gun! she thought, but would never have said so. "Can't you just lock the door?"
"I'll lock the door, but the gun stays under my pillow."
"Fine." Catherine laid her dirty clothes in a neat bundle alongside her suitcase.
"Hang the towel and washcloth on the balcony," he told her. "They'll be dry in a couple of hours."
"Good idea."
She felt him watching her and somehow his close scrutiny made her feel naked. Foolish thought! She wore underwear, a slip and a thin robe. And still she was hot—heated by the tropical night and seared by Murdock's fiery gaze.
Once out on the balcony, she laid the towel and washcloth over the iron railing, then forked her fingers through her damp hair. The sweet breeze caressed her face and neck. She unbuttoned her robe and spread it apart, allowing the air to cool her.
Murdock's big hands came down on her shoulders. She tensed. He eased her robe from her shoulders and tossed it aside, onto the tattered wicker settee behind them. Every nerve in her body zinged. Her muscles froze.
"You'll be cooler without it."
He slid his hands down her arms, wrapping her in the vastness of his big body, cradling her in his protective embrace. She shivered.
The only thought in her mind at the moment was that she would like to stay this way forever. Held and comforted. Protected and cherished.
He pivoted her around, slowly, with the utmost tenderness, until they faced each other and her breasts pressed against his bare chest. In her peripheral vision she caught a glimpse of his gun, lying beside her robe on the settee.
He lifted her arms up and of their own accord, her fingers splayed out across his muscular chest. He glided his hands down over her back and across her hips to cup her buttocks and lift her into his arousal.
He was big and hard and hot. And she wanted him. Desperately.
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
Damn, he wanted this woman! Wanted her naked and begging him to love her. Wanted her crying out his name when he pleasured her. He longed to bury himself deep inside her and make her his. Her fingers caressing his flesh, threading through his damp, chest hair aroused him painfully. He throbbed and pulsed with a powerful need.
He was used to getting what he wanted, especially when it came to women. But Catherine wasn't just any woman. Not the one-night-stand type. Not one of the good-time girls he preferred. She was the kind who would regret acting impulsively. The type who'd convince herself that if she gave herself to a man then she must love him.
But first and foremost, she was Lanny's daughter. The little kitten he'd heard all about whenever Lanny had been in a mellow, self-pitying mood. Usually when they'd been drinking heavily.
You didn't screw around with an old friend's daughter, especially not when you owed that friend your life.
He knew what he had to do. Now. Before this went any further and he lost control. He had nothing to offer Catherine, except sex. She deserved a better man. A man the exact opposite of him.
He sensed that she expected him to kiss her, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to give her what she wanted. But heaven help him, if he kissed her, he'd take her. And he couldn't let that happen.
Abruptly, while he could still manage rational thought, Murdock grabbed her shoulders and gently shoved her away. She gasped. Her eyes rounded in surprise. And her arms reached out for him.
"You don't belong here, honey." He eased back against the stucco wall. "Not in this godforsaken country. And not with me!"
Catherine felt as if he'd dashed a bucket of cold water on her. How could he do such a drastic about-face in what seemed to her like a split second? How could he just turn off his feelings and toss her aside? She ached with the kind of sexual need that wouldn't just vanish, the kind she couldn't simply will into oblivion.
She searched his face for an explanation, but saw only a deadly controlled withdrawal. "Is it because I'm Lanny's daughter?"
He looked away, his gaze traveling the length of the bougainvillea vine clinging to the balcony railing. What should he tell her? How did he explain? Try telling her the truth, his conscience suggested.
"Yeah, it's partly because you're Lanny's little girl," he admitted. "But … it's more than that."
She took a hesitant step toward him, uncertain why she didn't just thank her lucky stars that he had called a halt to the insanity. Why did she feel compelled to press him for an explanation of his rejection?
"The truth is that I'm not fit for any decent woman." Murdock's eyes narrowed to tight slits when he glared at her. "I'm exactly what you think I am, Catherine. A soldier, a killer and a heartless son of a bitch. Not to mention a womanizer. You don't want a man like me. You deserve better."
Crossing her arms over her waist, she clasped her elbows. Suddenly she felt chilly. Cold, in fact. "You're right." Her voice quavered ever so slightly. "I don't want a man like you. I never have."
He hated himself for wanting her and hated her for wanting him, despite what she'd just said. Her logical mind might not want him, but he knew that her body yearned for his as much as his body yearned for hers. Just tough it out, he told himself. Once this mission is over, you don't ever have to see Catherine again.
When he noticed her shiver, he picked up her robe from the settee and walked toward her. She backed away from him until her hips pressed into the balcony railing. Taking her hand, he drew her away from the railing, just far enough so he could wrap her robe around her shoulders. His hands lingered. She gazed at him, anger—and something more—in her eyes. The smoldering embers of passion still glimmered there.
He withdrew from her, retrieved his gun from the settee, then turned to go into their room. Halting in the doorway, not looking back, he said, "Don't stay out here too long."
She didn't reply. Instead she whirled around and grasped the railing, clutching it tenaciously. Anger and hurt swirled around inside her, combining with the aftershocks of a powerful sexual desire that wouldn't relinquish control over her body. Of all the men in the world, why did she feel this unrelenting sexual hunger for Aloysius Murdock? He was the last man on earth she would have chosen for herself. So why did she want him more than she'd ever wanted any man in her entire life?
Because you're an idiot! her inner self screamed. You'd have to be an idiot to fall for a man who, by his own admission, is a womanizing, heartless son of a bitch who has spent his life as a mercenary! He's right—you deserve better! Be glad he stopped things before you had sex with him. Before you fell in love with a man like your father. A man incapable of making a lifetime commitment.
Listen to yourself Catherine Price! Do you hear what you're saying? Just because you want Murdock to make love to you doesn't mean you want anything else from him. You don't want to wind up like your mother—on your deathbed, crying for the man who deserted you.
"Catherine!" Murdock's strong, loud voice called out to her. "Catherine, get in here right now!"
Snapped from her thoughts by his harsh command reverberating inside her head, Catherine hesitated. She needed to do what he said, without question, she reminded herself. They were still in Zaraza and he's still the one in charge.
When she entered the room, she found Murdock sitting on the side of Lanny's bed, her father's hand in his. Her heartbeat accelerated. Her feet turned to stone, refusing to budge. Oh, dear God, had her father died? All the energy within her focused on one single prayer. Please, don't let him be dead.
"Is he—?"
"No," Murdock said. "He's conscious."
An incredible sense of relief swept over her as she released a long, grateful sigh. Thank you, God.
"Get over here," Murdock snapped at her.
Nodding in agreement, she tried to move, but couldn't. For the past twenty years she had believed that her father wa
s dead. But he wasn't. He was alive. And she could see him, talk to him, be with him. All she had to do was walk the few feet that separated her from his bed.
"What's wrong with you?" Murdock glared at her, his eyes narrowing and his brow wrinkling.
"Nothing. I'm just a little nervous."
She forced herself to take that first step. And then another and another. Until she paused beside the bed. Murdock released Lanny's hand, stood and then grasped her shoulders, placing her in front of him. She looked down into a pair of blue eyes staring up at her. Eyes so like her own. But weakness and illness dulled the bright luster she remembered in her father's gaze.
She tried to speak, to say Lanny or Daddy or to tell him who she was. But her throat closed up with emotion, making speech impossible.
Those bloodshot blue eyes seemed unfocused as Lanny's gaze darted right and left, up and down and then finally settled once again on Catherine's face.
"Mae Beth." The barely audible voice spoke her mother's name.
"Oh, Daddy!" The heart-wrenching cry came from deep within her soul, from the little eight-year-old girl who had adored her father. Her heart wept for all that was lost. All that could never be retrieved. Mentally, she wrapped her arms around her father and held on tight. Don't leave me. Please, don't ever leave me again, the child inside her pleaded. Tears gathered in Catherine's eyes. She swiped them away with her fingertips.
"Mae Beth, is that you?" he asked, apparently deaf to Catherine's cry. His bony fingers twitched, as if he were trying to lift his hand.
Catherine leaned over, gently clasped his hand in hers and said, "Lanny, it's me. It's Catherine."
"Catherine?" He coughed. He wheezed. His rail-thin body shook.
"Yes. Catherine. Your daughter."
"Kitten?"
She sucked in a loud, weeping gasp. No, please, don't call me kitten, she wanted to scream. Don't take me back there. Don't make me feel what I felt then. Don't make me love you. Please, Daddy. Please. I couldn't bear to love you again and then lose you a second time.
Murdock draped his arm around her shoulder. "Hey, there, bubba. Remember me? Murdock."
"Murdock? Catherine?" A confused frown squinched his face.
"Yeah. Your daughter and I came to Zaraza to get you out of prison." Murdock felt the shudders racking Catherine's body. He tightened his hold around her shoulders. "You're free, Lanny. And we're taking you home. Back to the States."
"Where—" Cough. Wheeze. Cough. "Where are we?"
"We're in San Carlos, in a hotel," Catherine said.
"Go. Now." Lanny lifted his head a couple of inches off the pillow as he pressed his fingers into Catherine's hand, squeezing weakly. "Not safe. Get her out of here." Cough. Hack. Wheeze.
Murdock dropped his arm from Catherine's shoulders, veered around her and placed his open palms on Lanny's heaving chest. "Take it easy, bubba. Take it easy."
"Not safe," Lanny whimpered like a frightened child. "No place for my kitten."
Murdock patted Lanny on both shoulders. "She's safe with me. I promise. You're too sick to travel yet, and your daughter wouldn't leave without you."
"She shouldn't be here," Lanny mumbled. "Never wanted her to know … to see me like this." With a surprising strength, Lanny lifted his bony arm enough to grab the front of Murdock's shirt. "Take care of her. Take care of my little girl!"
His fingers unwound and released Murdock's shirt. His arms drifted down to the bed, on either side of him. He heaved a loud, harsh sigh and fell backward, unconscious again.
"Lanny!" Murdock grabbed his wrist to check for a pulse.
"Is he—"
"No. He has a heartbeat." Murdock clenched his jaw, anger tightening his facial features. "Damn! There's no telling how many times he's been beaten into unconsciousness over the years. But this last time they nearly killed him."
"Do you think he'll—"
"He'll probably drift in and out of consciousness for a while."
"It's a good sign that became to, even for just a few minutes."
"Yeah, it's a good sign."
"He knows who he is and who you are and … and he remembers me."
"He thought you were your mother at first." Murdock cupped and tilted her chin so that she faced him. "Except for your blue eyes and your size, you do look a lot like her. She was a beautiful lady."
"Yes, she was very beautiful. Outside and inside," Catherine said. "I have his eyes, his height and my hair's a little darker than hers, but I've been told that I have her facial features."
"He's not going to want you to stay." Murdock skimmed his index finger over her cheek. "When he comes to again, he'll tell me to get you out of Zaraza as soon as possible."
"If he were your father, would you leave him?" Catherine asked.
Murdock had no answer for her.
* * *
One night turned into two and two into three. Murdock knew letting Catherine stay was a huge mistake. Each morning she had pleaded to stay—just one more day. And each day, as Lanny drifted in and out of consciousness, he seemed to be regaining strength. Sometimes he knew where he was, knew who Murdock was and would ask half a dozen questions in rapid succession. At other times, his mind was back in Nam or back in Prision de las Puertas al Infierno. And once or twice he comprehended that Catherine was his little girl, all grown up now. But most of the time he called her Mae Beth and begged her not to leave him.
What puzzled Murdock most about Lanny's delusional ranting was when he kept talking about warning Vincente. Warn Vincente, the young rebel leader, about what? Murdock wondered. Maybe Lanny was getting Vincente and Vincente's father Juan Sabino all mixed up in his mind. After all, Lanny seemed confused about so many things.
Each night he and Catherine had shared a bed, lying stiffly alongside each other. He hadn't dared touch her, hadn't dared give in to the desire that rode him hard. Sometimes, when she thought he wasn't looking, she'd steal a glance at him. That's when he'd all but unraveled, wanting to reach out for her. It didn't matter what she said, or how she avoided touching him, even in the most innocent way. She was still hungry for him. And he wanted her so bad it was killing him.
Standing in the doorway to the balcony, he watched her as she cleared away the soup bowl that had contained the broth she'd fed her father over two hours ago, before he'd drifted off to sleep. They'd learned to crumble the pain medication into the watery chicken broth Andres brought to the room at regular intervals. Every time Lanny was conscious, Catherine forced more broth down him. It was as if she thought she could force him to live, force him to get well, by lavishing attention on him.
If Mae Beth McCroskey had been anything like her daughter, it was no wonder Lanny had loved the woman so much. Only now did Murdock truly understand how difficult it must have been for Lanny to leave her. But he had loved her too much to stay. If he'd been smart, Lanny never would have gotten married in the first place. Murdock himself knew better than to saddle some good woman with a man who led a life such as he and Lanny did.
"He ate all the broth this time," Catherine said. "His appetite is getting better."
"Yeah, I think he's improving. His face has a little color in it now."
She gazed longingly at Murdock, a faint smile curving the corners of her mouth.
Dammit, woman, don't look at me like that, he wanted to shout. Don't you realize that what you're feeling shows plainly in your expression? A man can stand only so much before he breaks. Lying beside you at night without touching you is torture, but seeing the yearning in your eyes every time you look at me is almost more than I can take.
"I think I'll go sit out on the balcony for a while, now that it's almost dusk," she said.
Yeah, honey, get away from me, he thought. Go somewhere—anywhere I can't see you. "Go ahead. I'll kept an eye on Lanny."
"He'll probably sleep for hours."
Before Murdock could respond, a loud knock sounded at the door. His hand drifted to his hip holster.
"Señor M
urdock," Manuel said through the closed door.
Murdock unlocked the door. "Yeah, come on in."
Manuel entered the room, then shut the door behind him. "I have word from Dr. Constantino."
"Has he made arrangements for us?" Catherine asked.
"Sí, señora." Manuel turned to Murdock and speaking in Spanish, gave him the doctor's instructions.
Catherine hurried to Murdock's side. "What's he saying?"
He shushed her. She gritted her teeth and huffed. Manuel and Murdock continued their conversation.
"He said we have to bring Lanny to the hospital at dawn tomorrow," Murdock translated. "Dr. Constantino will place him with patients being flown to Lima for surgeries that can't be performed at the hospital here. Jose will meet the plane in Lima and stay with your father until we arrive."
"What do you mean 'until we arrive?' Aren't we going with him?"
"No. There's no way we can go with Lanny. Dr. Constantino is sending a dead man's papers along with Lanny to get him out of Zaraza on a medical flight. You and I will leave later tomorrow afternoon, on a regularly scheduled flight back to Lima."
"Why does my father need a dead man's papers to leave Zaraza?" Catherine asked.
Murdock frowned. "Seems General Ramos never intended for Lanny to leave the country alive. He personally ordered his last beating. He assumes Lanny will die."
"But why? I don't understand."
Murdock stiffened and she could tell by the look in his eyes he was uncomfortable discussing the subject.
"Let's just say that Ramos is a bastard and leave it at that."
She realized that it would be useless to probe for more information. Murdock would tell her only what he wanted her to know.
"I don't like the idea of our being separated from my father."
"If I had control over the situation, it wouldn't be my first choice either, but this is our only option."
"I understand. I just wish…" Catherine smiled at Manuel. "Thank you. Gracias. And please, thank Dr. Constantino. I'm grateful to both of you."
"Sí, señora. I will tell the doctor."
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