by Judi Lind
“Good point,” she whispered as she wrapped the lacy shawl over her chilled upper arms. “Besides, why cause suspicion by having the manager open the safe in the middle of the night?”
Noah glanced at her. “You ready for some serious jogging? Our friend could show up any second.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” she asked as she darted away from the sheltering Dumpster and ran, light-footed, toward the street.
Surprised by her abrupt movement, Noah quickly recovered and trotted after her. As they ran silently through the courtyard, he recalled how quickly Keely had adjusted to their dangerous situation and sprung into action. The woman was a miracle—adaptable, resourceful and damnably sexy.
It was almost a shame the pain of their past would rob them of a future.
Right now, however, he had to concentrate. If he didn’t stay alert, there was every chance their future wouldn’t extend to dawn.
With no planned destination except away from the hotel, they negotiated the dark, deserted streets of Ensenada. Up one alley and down another. They wound along the hillside, hitting dead ends, climbing fences, always heading for the edge of town.
Endlessly. Blindly. Until they were thoroughly lost and utterly haggard. Never once did Keely complain or ask for a breather. His estimation of her professionalism rose with each moment and each obstacle they had to overcome. She was one hell of a cop.
Finally, too exhausted to stumble another foot, they came to a clearing just outside town. Apparently they had found a farm, because the main house was ringed by a half-dozen ramshackle outbuildings. Moonlight filtering through the clouds exposed endless fields in the distance, and the air was heavy with the smell of newly plowed earth.
Keely and Noah were so fatigued, they scarcely noted the wonder of their surroundings.
Acting more on instinct than strategy, they staggered toward the barn. Inside, the air was redolent with clean hay and the warm musky scent of animals. As they padded through the darkness, a cow lowed and a horse neighed briefly, then all was still again.
They found an empty stall and Noah pitched a mound of fresh hay. In moments they flopped onto their primitive bed and huddled together for warmth.
She nestled against his warm body, reveling in his solid masculine hardness. He’d only given her a sketchy outline of what had transpired in their hotel room, but Keely knew without asking that he’d opted to flee instead of fight because of her. He’d chosen to let his case fall apart rather than expose her to danger. When was the last time a man had chosen her well-being over his own ego?
She smiled in the darkness, whispered good-night and turned on her side, not trusting herself to breathe in his familiar scent.
But she couldn’t fall asleep, she was too full of adrenaline and memories.
In the darkness, Noah’s hand rustled through the fragrant straw, seeking hers. Every self-preserving instinct was screaming for her to move away, to put emotional if not actual distance between them.
Suddenly his whisper filled the night air. “You’re not asleep, either, are you?”
“No,” Her voice was a squeak.
“I’ve tried not to notice, you know.”
“Notice what?” she breathed.
“The way your skin glimmers like satin in the moonlight. The way you always smell fresh. That tiny little spot behind your ear that’s demanding to be kissed.”
The straw shifted as he moved closer. He was so near she could smell the scent of soap on his skin, and her imagination pictured him taking her here and now.
Keely knew how close she’d come to losing Noah tonight. She shuddered as she recalled the horrifying reports of the gunshots, sounds that chilled her soul. She’d been so afraid, so completely terrified that she’d lost Noah—again.
Her years of pent-up resentment and hurt had melted beneath her fear. Even now, when every protective instinct shouted for her to hold on to the hate she’d been nurturing for so long, the emotions flourishing in her breast urged her to let go.
Pain and bitterness were now…yearning and exhilaration. It was both scary and exciting.
In many ways Noah Bannister was annoying—too macho and stubborn. But it felt very…right having him in her bed—even if her bed was only a simple straw pallet.
It was as if she’d unconsciously been waiting a very long time for him to return and complete the dance they’d begun ten years before.
Dreamlike, she moved over just a little, until her hand found the warm, vital flesh just above his rib cage.
He groaned and reached for her. Suddenly, Keely was in Noah’s arms and the last ten years disappeared as quickly as her white peasant blouse.
During their ill-fated teenage romance, they had shared more than one frenzied, frustrated petting session in the back seat of Noah’s beat-up Plymouth Duster. Noah the boy had been as unsure as she was and their untried passion had never led them to its natural, ultimate conclusion.
But this was no boy with her now, and Keely knew this seductive, vital man would not be denied. As if in a trance, she watched as his fingers rose to her face, caressing her cheek, then trailed slowly, tantalizingly down her throat.
“I was so frightened something would happen to you,” he said sliding his hand to the back of her neck, burrowing in her short, dark tresses. “I couldn’t stand to lose you. Not again.” With a deep groan, he drew her mouth to his. Keely sighed with wanton abandon as her own traitorous body reached eagerly for his.
His lips were lush, sensual. Incredibly soft against hers. Noah encircled her in his arms and began kissing her more deeply. Each thrust of his tongue seduced her, teased her with provocative seeking. Keely’s breath lurched in her chest. Her senses reeled crazily, out of control, until she was mesmerized by the sweet taste of his lips.
She slid her arms up his back, pulling him close until her breasts were crushed against his chest. Her nipples prodded the soft mat of dark hair on his chest.
She wanted their kiss to last for eternity, to hold them captive in this perfect moment, but her body had a will of its own, wanting, insisting, demanding.
Like a wildfire burning out of control, the embers ignited by his kiss spread throughout her body until she was singed by the hard heat that proclaimed his arousal to be as strong as her own.
Yes, she wanted to go on kissing him, to go on drowning in the intimacy of his touch. But Keely knew that, finally, she needed more. Much more.
Cupping her face in his hands, he whispered breathlessly in the darkness, “God, how I’ve needed you. For so long. So very long.” His mouth descended on hers again, and her heart cried out with joy. He needed her. Wanted her. As she’d yearned for him all of these empty, wasted years.
He turned away from her briefly, and in the ambient moonlight sneaking through a slat in the plank wall, she saw him slip a silvery foil packet from his wallet. Noah had always watched out for her, and it warmed her to see that even now, in the white-hot flame of their desire, he was still protecting her.
As he turned back to envelope her in his embrace, her senses were heightened beyond belief. She could feel the whisper of his beard lightly grazing her skin as he kissed his way down her stomach, and back up her legs. Her insides were liquid and she felt like a caldron of need, about to boil over.
As if sensing the urgency of her desire, Noah rose above her and lowered into her, and she cried out with the fulfillment of a promise too long in the keeping.
How long, how very long she’d wanted, needed this man. How foolish she’d been ever to believe she’d be free of the sweetly torturous hold he had on her.
And, for once, she didn’t care about tomorrow.
Giving herself completely to the moment, Keely refused to dwell on the consequences—she just wanted this one night of love.
Even if Noah was only extracting payment for a decade-old debt.
LATER, A LONG TIME LATER, she turned in his arms and inhaled the fragrantly combined scents of fresh hay, night-blooming jasmine a
nd Noah’s own intoxicating maleness.
“Do you think it was Willie Hebert who attacked you?” she whispered in the darkness.
Noah pulled her head onto his shoulder and murmured into her hair. “I’m almost certain of it. Tomorrow morning I intend to have a very thorough discussion with our erstwhile shipmates.”
Keely stifled a yawn and nestled contentedly into the crook of his neck. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Maybe we should just head north so we don’t miss the contact at Long Beach Harbor.”
“We’ll make it. But a talk with Hebert is overdue.”
From the steely resolve in his voice, Keely knew Noah had more on his mind than simple conversation. She also had no doubt the pudgy salesman was going to come up short in his discussion with Noah.
As fatigue and spent passion finally overtook them and they succumbed to sleep, Keely had a fleeting thought that Noah Bannister was probably the best cop she’d ever worked with. Quietly competent, determined and fiercely loyal. He was also an incredible lover. Truly incredible.
THE SUN was already high in the sky when Keely’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment she was disoriented, finding herself naked in a pile of straw, covered only by the inadequate protection of her shawl.
Then she remembered.
She smiled and turned toward Noah, but only the indentation where he had lain in the warm, fragrant hay was there to greet her. Puzzled, Keely sat up and looked around.
A strange man was blocking the doorway to the stall.
And he had a pitchfork aimed at her heart.
Chapter Thirteen
Instinctively, Keely clutched the shawl to her breast and stared with breathless terror at the Mexican man wielding the pitchfork.
For a long, anxious moment they faced one another until the man lowered the pitchfork and fired off a stream of Spanish.
Noah was the one who spoke and understood the language. Where in blue blazes was he? The ugly thought crossed her mind that Noah might have abandoned her to go after Willie Hebert. If that was the case, she was going to wring his neck—unless this man dispatched her with his pitchfork first.
Now that the first heart-wrenching moment of fear had passed, Keely was virtually certain he meant her no harm. Dressed in the unbleached cotton trousers and loose shirt of a farmer, he was no doubt as startled by her as she was by him.
And his face, seamed by too much time in the sun, hinted that his age might be well over seventy. He was simply an old, frightened farmer, probably unaccustomed to finding naked women in his barn.
Keeping that thought firmly entrenched in her consciousness, she smiled up at him. “Hola, señor.”
Gesturing toward her, he again rattled off a stream of Spanish words. Shrugging carefully lest she dislodge the scant protection of her shawl, Keely dredged up a phrase of high school Spanish and mumbled, “No hablo español.”
She finally understood that he was questioning her about her lack of attire. She pointed to a jumble of clothes in the corner and waved her hand, somehow relating to him that she’d get dressed if he would turn his back.
“Bah!” The old man snorted and turned away long enough for her to scramble into her clothes. When she timidly stepped toward him, he beckoned her to follow him.
She blinked as they stepped out into the hot sunlight, just in time to see Noah sauntering into the clearing, a broad grin on his face. He had both hands full of red, juicy-looking berries of some kind. The farmer raised his pitchfork and Noah’s smile faded.
Slowly, one step at a time, Noah advanced toward them, keeping his eye firmly focused on the farmer and his pitchfork. “Buenos días,” he said, smiling widely at the farmer. “¿Cóma está”
The old man hitched his thumb at Keely. “¿Su esposa?” Your wife?
Noah nodded and launched into a long, halting explanation in what even Keely knew to be badly fractured Spanish. Still, he must have convinced the farmer because the old man slowly lowered his pitchfork and listened intently. After a few moments he asked, “¿Tiene hambre?”
Noah turned to Keely. “This is Señor Dorado and he wants to know if you’re hungry.”
“Famished,” she said, suddenly realizing just how hungry she was.
Noah relayed her answer to Señor Dorado, who waved toward his humble farmhouse. They followed his lead into the one-room adobe structure. Although tiny and simply furnished, Mr. Dorado’s home was clean and well ordered. The farmer, obviously proud of his home, sat them at the table and offered coffee.
In the corner, a short, well-rounded woman of about the same age was sautéing something that smelled wonderful. She wiped her hands on a stained apron and bustled over to the table, nattering at her husband the whole time. With a welcoming smile, she patted Keely on the cheek and nodded pleasantly to Noah.
In minutes, Señora Dorado delivered a luscious meal of fresh flour tortillas and eggs scrambled with onions, peppers and chilies. The plates were garnished with the sweet berries Noah had picked and given to the woman.
When the older couple joined them at the battered wooden table, Keely heartily ate the simple meal, unable to remember the last time anything had tasted so delicious.
In the past twelve hours, all her appetites had been whetted. And sated.
After they pushed away from the table, their stomachs stuffed beyond belief, Keely offered help with the washup but Mrs. Dorado refused with effusive thanks. Her husband also declined any payment for their meal, then offered to take them back to Ensenada in his pickup.
“Only if you’ll let me reimburse you for your time and gasoline,” Noah insisted in broken Spanish.
He and Señor Dorado haggled for a few moments before the farmer gave in with a grin, and they knew the wily old man had outnegotiated them.
After bidding his wife farewell, they piled into the rickety truck and headed back toward town.
In moments they were off the unpaved roads and jostling along the cobbled streets of Ensenada. When Mr. Dorado pulled to a halt in front of their hotel, Keely couldn’t believe how fast the trip had been. Last night they’d wandered for what seemed hours; while this morning their return had taken only a matter of minutes.
Despite vehement protests from Mr. Dorado, Noah handed the elderly man twice the sum they’d negotiated for and led Keely back into the lobby.
Taking her elbow, Noah led her to the shelter of a towering palm tree while he scanned the open area. No sign of either Hebert.
They cautiously approached the desk and asked if there had been any messages. The clerk checked the box and shook his head. “No, señor. Will you be staying another day?”
Nothing in his demeanor gave any indication that the police had responded to a disturbance in their room the night before. “No, please prepare our bill,” Noah said. “We’ll be checking out shortly.”
“Very good, sir.”
“So far, so good,” Noah breathed in her ear. “Let’s just act as if nothing’s happened and hope for the best.”
“Suits me,” she whispered back. “But the sooner we get back over the border, the happier I’ll be.”
Their ascent to the second-floor room was uneventful and they paused outside the door. Extracting his room key, Noah stepped inside first. Except for the utter disarray, nothing seemed to be missing.
Keely stepped into the room behind him and stared around her in wide-eyed wonder. “That must have been a heck of a fight last night.”
Noah grinned, looking for the world like the boy who’d taken on and bested the neighborhood bully. “You oughta see the other guy,” he said as he began setting the furnishings back on their feet.
Keely picked up the white spread off the floor and started toward the king-size bed. She stopped suddenly and gasped aloud.
Noah was picking up shards of the ceramic vase when he heard Keely’s loud drawn-in breath. He turned, took in her stunned expression and quickly moved past her to look behind the bed.
A man was lying on the floor, his head and upper
torso hidden by a jumble of bed sheets. His legs curved outward at improbable angles. He was dreadfully still. Not a muscle twitched. Noah took a heavy brass lamp from the bureau and held it high, just in case. But he didn’t think he’d need the weapon.
When he saw the deep red smear trailing down the man’s dark blue shirt and onto his tan trousers, Noah was certain. Still, he motioned Keely to stay back and eased along the bed frame until he was beside the body. He hunkered down and placed his fingertips on the cold, motionless neck. No pulse.
Noah pulled aside the bloodied bed sheet that had been carelessly draped over the top half of the body. The slack face of Willie Hebert stared back with unseeing blue eyes.
The front of Willie’s powder blue shirt had been stained a deep, solid crimson. He’d been shot in the back, as evidenced by the gaping exit wound in the front of his chest. Poor Willie had met his maker several hours before. There was nothing they could do for him now.
Taking care not to contaminate the crime scene, Noah backed away. Keely was standing behind him. He took her elbow and led her away from the grisly scene. “You don’t need to see this, Keely. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
She jerked free. “You seem to keep forgetting I’m a police officer, Noah. This isn’t my first dead body, you know.”
But he saw the high points of color on her cheeks. Keely was one of those unfortunate cops—good at her job but far too gentle to ever become sufficiently hardened against the violence.
Giving her time to regain her composure, Noah began searching the room for anything they might have left behind. There was nothing of importance, and he knew they had to get out of there—pronto. As soon as the maid arrived and found the body, all hell was going to break loose.
As if picking up on his thoughts, Keely said, “We’d better get that package. We need to get as far away from here as possible before the police arrive.”
“Yeah. I think Captain Suarez might not take it so kindly if we show up back at his jail, accused of murder.”
Finding the Do Not Disturb sign on the floor, he slipped it over the doorknob on their way out. Maybe they could buy a little more time.