Undercover Vows

by Judi Lind

  Jorge repeated his answer to Captain Suarez, who turned and gave Keely a sharp glance. “Why didn’t you stay with your husband, instead of going to a notorious bar?” he asked through the translator.

  This was the first time the police official had directed his questioning to Keely. Noah held his breath, wondering how she was going to respond. While he had done a fair amount of undercover work during the course of his career, this was Keely’s first covert assignment. She hadn’t had time to refine the fine art of subterfuge.

  Giving Noah a stricken glance, her fingers tightened around the handle of the straw bag, as evidenced by her white knuckles. Clearing her voice, she asked for a glass of water—an obvious stalling tactic.

  Suarez glanced at the straw bag but seemed reassured by the silly parrot piñata peeking out the top. He cocked his head and studied Keely’s white face. “¿Esta enferma?”

  Noah understood Captain Suarez’s question. He wanted to know if Keely was ill.

  The captain poured her a glass of water from a bottle on the corner of his desk and crossed the room to hand it to her, concern creasing his forehead.

  “No, I’m not really sick,” she murmured. “I’m just a little…queasy.” She patted her stomach for emphasis and suddenly Noah understood. She was feeling ill. Once when he’d gotten into trouble at school, Keely had taken up for him by telling the teacher a huge whopper. A moment later she’d rushed out of the classroom and thrown up.

  Keely couldn’t lie. Her conscience resided firmly in her stomach and refused to allow any untruths. It was up to him to think of a good story to cover her actions.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say something about Keely going to the bar to phone for the police when Captain Suarez clapped his palm against his forehead. “¡Ah, comprendo!”

  He patted Keely’s shoulder, then swiftly crossed the room and pumped Noah’s hand. Noah didn’t know what the man thought he understood, but it had certainly changed his attitude. Instead of eyeing them with unconcealed suspicion, his brown eyes glowed with good humor as he chattered and laughed.

  Completely at sea as to how he should react to this startling transformation, Noah turned to Jorge. “What’s he saying?”

  To his amazement, the young officer blushed furiously, his complexion turning a dark siena. Lowering his gaze, he mumbled, “He is offering his congratulations.”

  Noah glanced at Keely. She looked as bemused as he felt. “Congratulations?”

  Again Jorge blushed. “For your baby, señor. Isn’t your wife feeling sick because she is getting a baby?”

  As comprehension dawned, a broad smile lit up Noah’s face. Captain Suarez had given them the perfect out. He thought Keely had returned to the bar because she was suffering from morning sickness.

  Accepting the captain’s congratulations, Noah stood up and walked to her side. Wrapping a protective arm around her shoulder, he said to Jorge, “Tell the Captain we appreciate his concern. But if there’s nothing else, perhaps I could take the little woman back onto the ship now?”

  While Jorge translated his request, Noah smiled down at Keely. Her eyes glittered dangerously but she didn’t say a word.

  Captain Suarez eyed his “guests” for a long time. Finally he nodded. He spoke at length and Jorge snapped to attention and translated. “Captain Suarez wishes to extend his apologies for any inconvenience you have suffered. He hopes that one day you will return to our fair city, where you will of course be his guest. A car will take you back to the wharf.”

  Relief washing through him, Noah stood up and made an elaborate pretense of helping Keely to her feet. “Please tell Captain Suarez I appreciate his personal attention. Can I have my watch and wallet now? We really need to get back to the ship.”

  “Of course.”

  After several effusive goodbye handshakes, Jorge wandered down the hall. He returned a moment later with Noah’s belongings.

  Jorge pointed to the doorway. “Come. A car is outside.”

  They thanked him for his help as he ushered them to the waiting squad car. The late-afternoon sun was slanting across the dusty, cobbled street and the evening smells of fried onions and fresh tortillas wafted in the air, reminding Noah it had been a very long time since breakfast.

  When they slid into the back seat, he reached into his pocket for the newly returned watch. Jorge directed the driver to take them to the dock, then offered a farewell salute. They waved back and settled in the seat while the car glided into traffic.

  “Whew,” Noah said. “I was beginning to think we’d never get out of there.”

  Keely slowly twisted around until her deep brown eyes were burning into his. ‘“The little woman’?” she remarked. “You called me the little woman?”

  Noah snapped the band around his wrist and leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes. This was obviously not the right time to give her more bad news.

  It was well past five and no doubt the Empress had long since set sail without them.

  They were stranded in Mexico.

  Chapter Eleven

  Not only was the Empress gone from her moorings, she had left the harbor and completely disappeared from sight. They couldn’t even hire a launch to take them out to meet the liner. They were well and truly deserted in Ensenada.

  Keely stared at the vast empty space where the ship should have been anchored. “It’s gone!”

  Without opening his eyes, Noah said nonchalantly, “I thought it might be.”

  “What do we do now,” she asked, “sleep on the beach and hitchhike back to the States?”

  He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Why, my dear wife, I thought you’d be more inventive than that.”

  Keely crossed her arms and plumped back against the car seat. “Listen, husband, you got us into this mess—waving your badge at Captain Suarez—so it’s your turn to be inventive.”

  Noah chuckled at the absurdity of it all. What a hell of a day this had turned out to be. “First, we’ll find a hotel. We’ll have dinner, get some sleep and tomorrow make our way back to San Diego by land. We have three full days to get back to Long Beach. Piece of cake.”

  Keely continued to glare. “Yeah, and if I know you it’ll be devil’s food cake.” She held her handbag aloft. “At least we have money and credit cards, no thanks to your ill-advised orders.”

  Determined not to let her sour observations spoil his sudden, unaccountably lighthearted mood, he said jauntily, “Good! Then dinner’s on you. Take us to a nice hotel in town, amigo,” he told the driver.

  When they walked up to register at the La Posada del Sol, the clerk gave no overt notice of their rumpled appearance and lack of luggage. Since Ensenada was only about 90 miles from San Diego by land, apparently lovers’ trysts were not uncommon occurrences in the local hotels. In order to save their cash for emergencies, Keely put their room bill on her credit card.

  “Do you have a hotel safe?” she asked as she signed the transaction slip.

  The clerk smiled, showing a row of even, incredibly white teeth. “But of course. You have valuables you wish to check?”

  She turned to Noah and spoke softly. “What do you think?”

  He considered the idea. “We have to shop for a change of clothes and toiletries, then eat dinner somewhere. I don’t want to leave it in the room. In fact, after all the trouble we’ve been through, I really don’t want to let the package out of my sight.”

  Keely nodded in agreement. “Still, we have to eat dinner someplace. If we carry this thing everyplace we go, someone’s apt to think we’re carrying drugs or something.”

  “That’s true. I guess the safe’s…safe.”

  Keely withdrew the parcel and handed it to the clerk. After obtaining a receipt, she asked about dinner.

  “Oh, we have the finest restaurant in Baja,” the clerk said with obvious pride. “And tonight is our weekly floor show. Folkloric dancers and mariachis. You won’t want to miss it.”

  “Sounds great,” Keely said. And
it did. A night of complete hedonistic pleasure was exactly what she needed. She wanted to be a tourist, eat rich food, drink one too many margaritas and dance in the street. Mostly she wanted to forget she was only in the idyllic setting with Noah because of their mutual business.

  “What time?” Noah asked. “Should we make reservations?”

  The clerk nodded. “I can do that for you, sir. Around seven?”

  When they nodded, he scribbled on a slip of paper and handed Noah a room key. “Number fourteen, second floor. But there is one thing…”

  “Oh, forgive me.” Noah reached into his pocket for a bill. It had been so long since he’d visited Mexico he’d completely forgotten that tipping was de rigueur for almost every service.

  The clerk expertly palmed the money. “Thank you, sir. But I was going to say that…er, shorts are not allowed in the dining room after five. But we have a fine clothing shop right here on the premises.”

  He pointed out a corridor leading to the hotel’s shopping facilities and they followed his directions to a large, brightly lit tienda with a surprisingly broad selection.

  After making several purchases, Noah carried their bounty up to their room. When he opened the door, they were both startled by the sumptuous decor. Spacious and bright, the room had an uncarpeted tile floor, and a filmy white spread covered the king-size bed. The windows were undraped, but their privacy was guaranteed by diaphanous white sheers.

  The room was understated and elegant.

  Keely dropped her almost-bald paper parrot onto the bed with their other parcels and strolled into the bathroom. A moment later Noah heard her squeal and went rushing in behind her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She was standing in the middle of the room, her back to the doorway, arms spread wide. “Look at this bathroom!”

  He glanced around. Looked like a bathroom to him. “What about it?”

  She whirled to face him. “Have you no soul? Look at this place—it’s fabulous.”

  He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “I’m not really into plumbing fixtures as long as they work.”

  She pointed to the huge sunken tub in the corner. “A person could hold an orgy in that tub.”

  “Ah. Now you have my interest. Is that an invitation?”

  Her extended arm swung around until she was pointing behind him at the doorway. “Get out of here, peasant, and leave me to my bath.”

  He unfolded and started out of the room, pausing in the doorway. “That’s such a big tub, it seems a shame to waste all the water it’ll take to fill it. I’m heavily into environmental concerns, you know.”

  “Oh, you are?”

  “Uh-huh. Mexico has a real water shortage here in Baja. It would promote good international relations if we helped them conserve water, you know.”

  “I see.” She nodded slowly. “And you propose to help out Mexico—in fact, help out the world—by sharing a bath with me? To conserve water, of course.”

  “Seems like a fine idea to me.”

  Moving like a lightning bolt, she reached around and yanked a towel off the rack. Holding one end behind her back, she snapped the towel like a whip, stinging his thigh.

  “Ouch!”

  “That’s the lousiest excuse for a pass I’ve ever heard.”

  “You told me to be inventive,” he complained, rubbing the red mark on his thigh.

  “Now I’m telling you to get out,” she said, holding the towel poised.

  “As long as you’re sure I can’t help you wash your back or something?”

  “Out!” But a telltale blush crept up her cheeks and Noah was convinced she found the idea as intriguing as he did.

  He found himself whistling as he dropped onto the bed for a quick nap before they had to dress for dinner.

  “KEELY, HURRY UP in there! It’s almost seven.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Noah, chill out,” she called from behind the bathroom door. “This is Mexico—nothing happens on time, including dinner.”

  She put a fresh layer of pink gloss on her lips and patted her hair. Not bad, she reflected, considering she’d had to make do without a blow dryer or curling iron, both having been left on board the Empress. Finally satisfied, she picked up the lacy shawl she’d purchased in the gift shop and went into the bedroom, where Noah was pacing a path in the terra-cotta tile.

  He stopped abruptly as she appeared in the doorway. A vaguely husky quality in his voice, he said, “You look…fabulous.”

  “You like it?” Keely asked tentatively. She had felt self-conscious donning the white embroidered skirt and matching shoulder-baring ruffled blouse. Her legs were bare and she wore a new pair of leather huaraches that squeaked slightly when she walked. With her inkblack hair, Keely knew she could pass for a local woman, and the appreciative stare on Noah’s face told her the unaccustomed attire was flattering.

  “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said, casting her own favorable glance at Noah. He was wearing white peasant trousers and an aqua shirt with full sleeves that reminded her of something a pirate might have worn a couple centuries ago. All he needed was an eye patch and that stupid parrot piñata on his shoulder.

  Her stomach grumbled suddenly, reminding her of another, more immediate appetite that still needed satisfying. “Ready to go?”

  “I’ve been ready for twenty minutes,” he grumbled, locking the door behind them.

  When they walked down the broad stairway fashioned from colorful Talavera tiles, Keely stopped short.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Edging closer so she wouldn’t be overheard, she murmured, “Look over there by the waterfall in the lobby.”

  Noah scanned the area and shook his head. “What about it?”

  “Don’t you see them?”

  “Who?”

  Lifting her hand ever so slightly, Keely pointed surreptitiously. “There, almost hidden by the potted palm next to the waterfall.”

  His gaze followed her fingertip. A middle-aged couple was sitting side by side on a bench near the waterfall, not talking, simply watching people stroll past. Flo and Willie Hebert should have been sailing south toward Mazatlán, not sitting in the lobby of the La Posada del Sol.

  Noah took Keely’s elbow and they slowly continued descending the staircase. “I don’t like this,” he said.

  “Neither do I,” she muttered back between clenched teeth as they crossed the lobby and approached the lounging couple.

  “Look who’s here, Willie—the Bannisters!” Florence jumped heavily to her feet and smoothed her blue-and-white floral housedress.

  He stood up to join his wife. “What’re you folks doing here? Though I must say we’re mighty glad to see you.”

  He pumped Noah’s hand with so much enthusiasm, Keely found herself marveling at the depths of their obvious relief. She smiled a greeting. “We lost track of time. What happened to you guys?”

  Willie nodded and wiped a plump white hand over his balding pate. “Shopping, that’s what happened. We missed the danged boat! This woman—”

  “Now, hon, these people don’t want to hear our marital squabbles. Say, we were just fixing to go into dinner. Care to join us?”

  Keely shot Noah a glance and he raised his eyebrows as if to say, What else can we do? He signaled to the headwaiter and changed their dinner reservation to four. A moment later they followed him to a balmy patio overlooking the indigo ocean below. Flickering torches were staked among potted plants, offering the only lighting besides the luminous moon.

  “My stars, what a view,” Florence said as she peered over the stone railing.

  The waiter passed around menus, but after a quick glance, the Heberts deferred to Keely and Noah. “You folks are from around these parts, so you order,” Willie directed as he slammed shut his menu.

  Florence closed hers, as well. She leaned across the table and whispered loudly, “You don’t suppose they use any kind of…domestic animal in their food, do you?”

&nbs
p; Keely noted Noah rolling his eyes before he ducked back behind the menu. “No, I’m sure not,” she reassured the older woman, before hiding a smile behind her own menu.

  When she’d sufficiently recovered enough to speak, Keely said, “Noah, go ahead and order for all of us. I’m so hungry I could eat a whale if you pulled him into shore.”

  The waiter appeared and Noah ordered avocado-and-shrimp salads and sole Veracruz for everyone. As they plunged into the chips and salsa while waiting for their salads, Keely tried to find common ground with the older couple.

  “Do you have just the one son?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes. Hank’s just the apple of our eye, he is that.”

  Noah broke a tortilla chip with a loud snap. “Hank? I thought the other night you told us your son’s name was Tommy.”

  There was a sudden, foreboding silence before Florence said, “Why, Noah Bannister, what a good memory you have. Of course you’re correct. You see, we named him after both our fathers—Thomas Henry Hebert. So sometimes we call him Tommy, but sometimes he’s Hank or even Henry.”

  Although Flo Hebert’s explanation was quick and facile, Keely still held a few misgivings. So did Noah, judging from the guarded expression on his face and the thinly veiled questions he continued to ask during their dinner.

  Could the Heberts be their shipboard contacts? Was it possible that Flo had been the person who locked her in the steam room? Keely’s nerve endings twitched as she considered the possibility of that seemingly vacuous face hiding a dark, menacing personality.

  Still, even if the Heberts had been sent to keep an eye on them, what could they do now? The plates had already been transferred and were secured in the hotel safe. Except for a few minor problems, their plan was exactly on schedule. As Noah would say, No problema.

  Satisfied that she could forget about the plates, at least for the evening, Keely savored the tangy rice that accompanied the fish.

  After dinner, while serving a relaxing cup of Kahlúa coffee topped with whipped cream, the waiter suggested they adjourn inside because the floor show would soon begin. He led them to a tiny table only a few feet from the stage, where they had front-row seats for the colorful pageant.