MURDOCK'S LAST STAND

by Beverly Barton

  Murdock flipped the wall switch. Nothing. Just as he suspected, the electrical power had been cut off—either when the building had been vacated or due to a citywide blackout caused by the rebel attack.

  "This is better than I'd hoped," he said. "A bathroom and a bed. We can clean up and get some rest before we head out."

  Bone weary and mentally fatigued, Catherine removed the M-16 from her shoulder, laid it on the floor and slumped down into the nearest chair. "Why do we have to leave the city? Why can't you just hook up with the rebel soldiers and tell them you have a vital message for Vincente Sabino?"

  Murdock pulled the curtains over the windows, protecting them from being viewed by anyone on the Street below. He jerked the beret from his head and forked his fingers through his damp hair. "Because the rebel soldiers are going to shoot first and ask questions later. Any soldier worth his salt would. They're in the middle of their first major attack on San Carlos and anyone crossing their path will be eliminated. And as far as my telling them I have a message for Vincente—they don't know me from Adam. And unless we could find Manuel or Andres, both of whom I suspect have gone underground, we'd have no one to vouch for us. Besides, I'm not sure we can trust Manuel or Andres one hundred percent."

  "So our only alternative is what? Try to find Vincente ourselves?" Catherine glanced down at her scuffed heels as she stretched her legs.

  Murdock's gaze followed her. "Too bad that soldier's feet were so big. You could have used his boots."

  She shrugged. "What are the odds we can get out of San Carlos tonight?"

  "Pretty good, actually, if we can find some sort of transportation."

  "Like what?"

  "Like a car."

  "How do you propose we get a car?"

  "Later, when it's dusk, I'll go out and see what I can find." A quirky grin arched his lips.

  "I'd like to wash up and get some of this soot and grime off of me and out of my hair. Do you suppose there's any water in the bathroom?"

  "Only one way to find out." Murdock kicked open the bathroom door, stepped into the tiny room and turned on the sink faucet. Water flowed freely into the cracked porcelain bowl. "You've got cold water. No hot."

  "Cold water is just fine with me." She sighed, thinking about how wonderful it would be to splash that cold water over her face and body.

  "Here's some old soap, too." Murdock picked up the yellow, cracked remains of a partially used bar of soap. "No towels. But as warm as it is, you'll dry in no time."

  With soap in hand, he emerged from the bathroom. Catherine kicked off her shoes. She sighed when she noticed the huge run in her stocking. When she'd slipped into the soldier's pants, she hadn't bothered removing her panty hose. That's something she'd rectify as soon as she got a chance. She looked up as Murdock approached. He tossed her the soap, which she caught in her right hand.

  "Clean up," he said. "I'm going to make a trip downstairs and see if I can find any canned food. When the restaurant closed down, they might have left behind a few things."

  Grasping the soap in her hand, Catherine forced her tired legs to stand. "I'm not really hungry."

  "You will be later."

  "Maybe."

  Murdock picked up the M-16 she'd laid on the floor and handed it to her. "I'd better give you a quick lesson in handling this baby before I leave you alone."

  She listened while he explained the basics of using the weapon. She nodded as if she understood what he was talking about when he mentioned the rifle had been upgraded and had a two-stage trigger.

  "Pull back a little for semiautomatic fire and pull back fully for full auto fire," Murdock told her. When he started out the door, he paused and cautioned, "Take that gun into the bathroom with you. And if anyone besides me enters this room, shoot him!" With that said, he left her alone.

  Catherine stared at the rifle she held. She didn't own a gun. Knew practically nothing about them. And had always associated weapons of any kind with her father. I need for you to show me that you're Lanny McCroskey's daughter. Can you do that? Murdock's words reverberated inside her head. All her life she'd been Mae Beth McCroskey's daughter in every way. A well-educated, mannerly, Southern lady. But the traits she had inherited from her mother wouldn't cut it in this situation. She needed to reach down inside herself and draw on the traits Lanny had surely passed on to her. She'd known what Murdock meant by asking her if she could show him she was Lanny's daughter. And yes, dammit, she could and would do whatever necessary to survive, to get out of this horrendous country and reunite with her father.

  By the time Murdock returned carrying a burlap sack filled with canned goods and a manual can opener, Catherine had not only stripped down to her panties and bra, but she'd washed her hair. He walked in to find her sitting on the bed, with her head held down and her damp, shoulder-length hair tossed over her face. The fact that she hadn't bothered putting on any clothes before his return surprised him. What had happened to Catherine's ladylike modesty?

  When she heard his approach, she flipped her hair out of her eyes, grabbed the M-16 lying beside her on the bed and aimed the weapon directly at him.

  "Hold your fire, Cat. It's only me."

  "I need to put a damn bell around your neck, Aloysius. You didn't make a sound."

  "Found us a supply of canned goods." He dropped the burlap bag onto the round table in the kitchenette area. "And look what else I found." He pulled a couple of flashlights from his back pockets. "One for you and one for me." He tossed one onto the bed.

  Catherine laid the M-16 on the floor, then eased her long legs over the edge of the bed and stood. Murdock looked his fill, surveying her from the strands of light-brown hair dripping moisture onto her shoulders, over her high, firm breasts pushing over the cups of her bra and down to the square of cream silk that barely covered her hips. Her arms and legs were long, slender and shapely. And she possessed a well-proportioned body, with curves in all the right places.

  Murdock's sex sprang instantly to life. What kind of game was she playing? he wondered. She couldn't be so naive that she didn't realize the effect her half-naked body would have on him. Practically panting, he watched her as she picked up her discarded Zarazaian uniform shirt and slipped her arms into the sleeves. When she reached down for the pants, Murdock crossed the room in three giant strides and grabbed her around the waist. Catherine gasped. He hauled her up against him, pressing her mound against his arousal.

  "What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

  "Giving you what you were asking for," he said.

  "What I was— I wasn't asking for this! It's hot up here and we can't open any windows. I just wanted to cool off for a while. That's all."

  Murdock glared skeptically at her, then released her and shoved her toward the bed. She fell backward and was barely able to break her fall by catching the bed's footboard.

  "Cooling off sounds like a good idea," he said.

  When Murdock smiled that way—cocky, mischievous—Catherine knew she'd better be prepared for anything. She retrieved the pants from the floor, then stuffed her legs into them and whipped up the zipper.

  Murdock laid his M-16 and the two ammunition belts in a ragged armchair in the corner, then unbuttoned the uniform shirt, stripped it off and tossed it onto the back of the chair. He scratched his chest, then spread his arms out and stretched.

  Catherine couldn't take her eyes off him. Off his broad chest, his extremely wide shoulders, his huge arms and his thick, heavy muscles. Her femininity tingled and throbbed. The man was a sight to behold.

  Ignoring her completely, he marched into the bathroom. He plugged the sink, then turned on the faucets. Using his hands as a scoop, he dipped up the water and poured it over his head, then repeated the process several times, until his head was drenched and watery rivulets cascaded over his face, down his neck and created clean streaks on his dirty chest. Droplets glistened in his dark chest hair.

  Catherine closed her eyes to shut out the sight of him. But h
is image wouldn't disappear; it was burned into her consciousness. Everything female within her reacted to the primal urges that the sight of his big, hard body awakened within her.

  Miles away the artillery fire grew weaker and less frequent. Outside the late-afternoon tropical sun beat down unmercifully, raising the temperature inside the boarded-up building.

  "Sounds like the battle is dying down." Murdock emerged from the bathroom. "Let's get some rest. If I can find us a car, you'll be driving most of the night."

  "What do mean I'll be driving?" Catherine glowered at him.

  "It only makes sense. You drive. I ride shotgun."

  His wicked smile tempted her to smack him. But she knew better than to touch him, in any way.

  "Why does it make sense?" she asked.

  "Because it's obvious you don't know a damn thing about guns. Besides, I'm trained to be aware of my surroundings and be alert to danger. And I'm a soldier, capable of killing. You're not."

  "All right. Since you explained it that way, it does make sense for me to drive."

  Murdock picked up the borrowed shirt, wiped his damp face with it and then ran it over his chest. "If I remember right, the nearest village that's situated on the Rio Negro is a little place called Chota. We should be able to book passage on a boat headed downstream and be at Vincente's Santa Teresa camp within twenty-four hours—if we don't run into trouble. I just hope we can make it there before Vincente begins his march toward San Carlos. Otherwise, we'll be following him back to the city."

  "If we're going to be following him, why not wait here for him?"

  "Because I have a better chance of getting through to him if I show up at his stronghold. His men might take us captive, but if I can persuade them that I know Manuel and Andres, they just might let me see Vincente. Here in San Carlos, every soldier will be trigger-happy and we could both wind up dead."

  "I know you feel obligated to save Vincente, but wouldn't it be smarter if we just stayed on the boat and kept on going down the Amazon until we reach the Brazilian border?"

  "I can't leave Zaraza until I've warned Vincente about the traitor in his midst. And I can't send you alone down the Amazon."

  "So I'm trapped here in Zaraza with you." Catherine flopped down on the side of the bed. "When we don't show up in Lima, Lanny's going to be terribly worried."

  "Yeah, I know. And don't think I haven't figured my promise to him into this equation." Hell! If he had a choice he'd never involve Catherine in this wild search for Vincente and endanger her life. For Lanny's sake, he told himself. But he couldn't let this twenty-year war end in defeat for Sabino's rebels. Not after all the sacrifices that had been made to rid Zaraza of General Ramos. "I can't let Ramos win this war."

  "I don't want General Ramos to win. After seeing firsthand what he and his goons are capable of doing—to people like my father—makes me realize that I'd like to help you make sure Vincente Sabino takes control of this country. I'd like to see the general hung from the highest tree in San Carlos!"

  Murdock's lips twitched. "Getting a little bloodthirsty aren't you, honey?" He crossed the room, then sat down beside her, his weight sagging the bed. "What would the blue bloods back in Huntington say about your newly acquired thirst for revenge?"

  She turned up her snooty little nose. "Hmph! What's that old adage about 'when in Rome?' Well, the way I see it, I'm in Zaraza, caught in the middle of an ugly war and it's either fight or die."

  "You learn fast." Murdock shoved her over in the bed. "Get some rest. It'll be sunset before long."

  After she scooted to the far side of the double bed, Murdock stretched out beside her. They lay there, only inches separating their bodies. Catherine closed her eyes and tried to pretend that the nearness of his big body, naked from the waist up, didn't disturb her in the least. The instant he touched her arm, her eyes flew open and she shot straight up.

  "Take off that shirt. You'll be cooler," he said.

  Hesitantly, she did as he had suggested. Of course, he'd been right. Without the shirt, she felt much cooler. But she also felt a lot more vulnerable. You're not naked, she reminded herself. You're still wearing your bra.

  Within fifteen minutes Murdock was snoring. Catherine glanced over at him, surprised and amazed that he could fall into such a deep sleep so quickly. But at least, if he was asleep, she, too, could rest without worrying about him pouncing on her.

  * * *

  Murdock opened his eyelids and quickly checked his surroundings. Quiet and shadowy. A peaceful lull had settled over the city. No artillery fire, not even in the distance. The last rays of golden sunlight crept from beneath the curtains and fingered out over the bare wooden floor. He felt a warm, soft weight on top of him. Catherine lay cuddled against him, her head nestled on his chest. Lifting his hand, he cupped her head and caressed the silky strands of her hair. If he had all the time in the world, there was nothing he'd like better than to spend the night making love to this woman. But he didn't have that luxury. Not now.

  Murdock eased her off his chest and into his arms. She whimpered, then wriggled until she'd wrapped herself around him. He kissed her forehead and then her cheek.

  "Catherine," he whispered her name into her open mouth.

  "Hmm…" Still half asleep, she kissed him. Softly. Tenderly.

  With one swift, adept move, he flipped her over on her back and straddled her. Her eyelids flew open. She glared up at him with a startled, uncertain expression.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Waking you," he said, a deadpan expression on his face.

  "Well, you succeeded. I'm awake." She shoved against his chest.

  He remained unmoved. "How about a quickie before I go out into the cold, cruel world to look for some transportation for us?"

  "What!"

  Murdock rolled over and off the bed, then burst into laughter. "Wish you could see the look on your face, Ms. Price. You'd think I just asked you to drown newborn kittens."

  Catherine sat up, ran her fingers through her disheveled hair and glowered at Murdock. "Very funny. But I don't care for your sense of humor."

  "I think I like you better when you're half-asleep," he said. "You're more … much more … so much more—"

  "Dammit, I didn't realize I was kissing you! I thought I was dreaming," she admitted.

  "About me?" He grinned, not having a doubt in his mind that awake or asleep, he'd been the man she had kissed.

  Her face flushed. She didn't respond. Instead she got out of bed, put the uniform shirt on and searched for her heels.

  "We've got to find you some other shoes," he said. "But for now, those will have to do."

  "I'm not staying here alone while you go in search of a car to steal," she said. "Where you go, I go."

  "I wouldn't have it any other way, honey."

  "Good. Then we finally agree on something."

  "Yeah, finally," he teased.

  "Are we staying in these uniforms?"

  "Yeah. Why do you ask?"

  "What if we run into rebel troops?"

  "Our chances of being seen by Zarazaian troops is much more likely since my guess is they still control this part of the city," he explained. "I think, for the time being, we're safer with these—" he pinched the material of her shirt where it buttoned between her breasts "—than we would be without them."

  Ten minutes later, each with an M-16 in hand, Catherine and Murdock emerged from their temporary hideaway. He had strapped on the two ammunition belts and turned the burlap bag into a makeshift knapsack that he'd hung on his back. In the dark shadows of twilight, they might pass for a couple of Zarazaian soldiers, but if they came face-to-face with the enemy their disguises wouldn't hold up under close scrutiny.

  Keeping watch behind them and their backs close to the storefronts they passed, Catherine and Murdock prowled the empty streets searching for a car. Minutes ticked by, like a bomb inside her head. Pressure building. Fear mounting. Nerves rioting. Where were they going to find a vehicle?
she wondered. So far, they hadn't seen a living soul or spotted even a bicycle. Undoubtedly, once the attack had started, people had fled, using every available means of transportation to escape.

  After scouring a two-block area, Murdock led her into another alley. Just as she started to protest by asking him how he thought they'd find a car in this alleyway, Murdock cupped his hand over her mouth and pulled her into a dark corner. That's when she heard the sweet sound of a car's motor.

  "Stay here," he whispered as he removed his hand from her mouth.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To check things out."

  She nodded, crouched farther into the darkness and watched as Murdock sneaked silently down the alley and toward the street. She waited, her heart beating fast and her mind reeling with a dozen frightening scenarios.

  Gunshots! Repeated firing. Human cries. A loud crash. Splintering glass. And then silence. Catherine's heart skipped a beat. Tremors racked her body. Please, dear God, she prayed, let Murdock be all right.

  Within seconds, she saw a large figure moving toward her in the semidarkness of the alley. Her senses recognized the big man before her vision acknowledged that Murdock was running in her direction. He motioned for her to come to him. She slipped from her hiding place and rushed toward him. He reached out and grabbed her shoulders.

  "The car's a jeep, belonging to a Zarazaian officer and it's out there waiting for us," Murdock said. "I think I scared off the rebel soldiers who shot the major and his driver."

  "Did the rebels see you up close?"

  "No, I'm sure they think I was a Zarazaian soldier and that there are probably a lot more government troops around somewhere close. They didn't hang around to find out." He pulled her back against the side of the brick building. "We'll stay right here for a few minutes. If we don't see any rebel troops in the next five minutes, then we're going to make a mad dash for the jeep and head out of town."