A plump little man jumped from the cab, gold teeth gleaming in his apologetic smile. "I am sorry, senor. I sleep late. Too much—how you say, tequila, si!"
Blake pulled a stack of bills from his pocket and stuffed them into the man's hand.
"Yeah, well you can buy yourself lots more with this. Is the truck gassed up?"
The little man nodded. "Si. And I check the oil, as you ask." He turned to Elena and beamed at her. "Buenos dias."
Elena nodded. "Buenos dias." She walked to Blake's side and stared at the truck. Its fenders were painted bright red, the hood blue, and the body yellow. But not even the garish paint could cover the rust beneath. "The truck's older than I am," she said under her breath.
"Is that a complaint, senorita?" Blake asked in a cold voice.
She paled. "No, of course not. I only meant..."
He stared at her and then he let out his breath. "Never mind. I know what you meant. Believe me, I didn't have any choice. It was this or nothing. Go on," he said with a tight smile, "get in. Manuel swears this thing runs better than it looks."
"You will leave my truck with my cousin Teodoro in Galindo, yes?" the little man asked nervously as Blake gunned the engine to life. His voice rose above the laboring roar. "The little house by the cantina..."
"...with the television antenna and the big brown dog. Yes, don't worry, Manuel. I'll leave it there." Blake released the brake, stepped on the accelerator, and the truck jerked away from the hotel, the gears whining ominously. "That's if we get that far," he muttered as they rolled down the street in a series of neck-snapping stops and starts.
As they picked up speed, the truck seemed to shake itself free and by the time they'd left Mazatal behind, they were moving along at a steady pace with only an occasional rumble and jolt to remind them of the vehicle's age. But a new sound had been added, a musical tinkling that came from beneath the seat. Elena reached down and felt along the floor, and her fingers closed on a bottle.
"Tequila," she said, holding it out for Blake to see.
His lips curved upward as the tinkling sounds continued. "Several bottles, from the sound of it. Manuel's private stock, I guess. He's going to be mad as hell when he realizes he forgot it."
Elena returned the bottle to the cache beneath her seat and cleared her throat. "The—uh—the truck runs pretty well," she said carefully.
He nodded. "Yeah."
Silence stretched between them.
"How far does this road go?"
"Manuel says it crosses the border just past Galindo."
She waited for him to say something more, but he didn't. They were leaving the valley now, beginning the climb into the Mountains of the Moon. Dark forest stood on either side of the narrow road as it curved its way upward. The gears squealed and grated as Blake changed down, and the engine began to labor, as if such hard work were more than it could handle. But Elena was aware only of the tension-filled atmosphere. She glanced at Blake, silently willing him to say something. When he didn't, she cleared her throat.
"How far is it from Galindo to the border?"
"An hour's walk, according to Manuel. We had quite a chat in the cantina last night." He gave her a hard, quick glance. "I didn't feel much like sleeping."
Elena felt color rise to her cheeks. "Blake," she said quickly, "about last night..."
"What about it?"
"I... I'd like to explain..."
"You don't owe me any explanations."
"But I do. I..."
"You don't have to worry. Our deal's still on. I'll get you to Miami."
"I never thought you wouldn't. I...I was just thinking of how much better we'd been getting along, and..."
"Listen," he said sharply, "stop trying to dance around it. We made a mistake, that's all. We were both tired, we'd had some wine..." He glanced at her and then away. "That's the way it was, wasn't it?"
No, she thought, no that's not the way it was for me... But admitting that would only make things more confused than they already were.
"Yes," she said stiffly, "that's the way it was."
"Exactly.” He rubbed the back of his neck. "Like I said, forget it. We've got a long, hard day facing us."
"Right." Elena waited for a few minutes, but he said nothing more and the silence began to pool around them again. She ran her tongue over dry lips. "It's not as hot as yesterday, is it? But then, it's almost the rainy season. This morning, I thought I smelled rain in the air, and..."
Blake changed gears as the grade steepened. "Why don't you get some rest?" he said abruptly. "We've got a long drive ahead."
...and I don't want to hear you babbling like a fool. He hadn't said it, but he might as well have. Elena blinked back a sudden prickle of tears.
"Good idea," she said in a voice that gave away nothing. "Wake me when we get to Galindo."
She lay her head back against the ripped upholstery and turned away, staring out at the dark jungle without actually seeing it.
Blake was right. It was better to pretend she was asleep than to go through hours of stilted conversation. Besides, if she kept talking, sooner or later she'd end up trying to explain why she'd run from him last night, and she couldn't very well do that, not when she didn't really understand the reason herself.
What she had to do was think about something else. Think about... about the art gallery. Or Jeremy. He'd be glad to see her. She'd phone him first thing, right after she phoned her father. Elena blinked her eyes. Was her father safe? She hoped he—
The truck braked, hard and fast, catapulting her forward. Blake threw his arm across her before she could crack her head. The acrid smell of burned rubber filled the air as the truck came to a bone-jarring halt.
"What's the matter?"
"I'm not sure," he muttered. "There's a downed tree across the road, just around that curve, see it? Where the road goes through that ravine."
Elena nodded. She could see only a piece of the trunk but it was enough to make her heart sink.
"It must have come down during a storm—it looks awfully big. I hope we'll be able to move it."
Blake reached for the door handle. "I'll take a look."
"I'll come with you. Maybe..."
His hand closed over hers as she reached for the door. "No," he said sharply. "You stay here and keep your eyes and ears open."
The skin along the back of her neck prickled. "But Blake..."
He gave her a quick smile. "I'll check things out. It's probably nothing more than it seems to be."
Her throat had gone dry. "And if it isn't?"
Blake's eyes met hers. "If it isn't, I want you to get out of this truck and run like hell. You'd never be able to turn the truck on a road this narrow."
"You think it's trouble, don't you? Tell me the truth! I have a right to know."
"I just want to be sure, that's all. Hell, trees fall all the time, Princess."
Her eyes searched his. "You're lying," she whispered. "I know it."
"Just sit tight and watch me. If I spot anything funny—that's if, Princess—I'll just come on back here and we'll figure another way to get to Galindo."
"Blake, please, let's just go back now. We can..."
His fingers curled tightly around hers. "But, if something does happen, remember what I said. Get out of here fast. And don't look back."
Fear had turned her tongue to cotton. "I won't leave you," she whispered.
The sudden bite of his hand made her wince.
"You will do as I say, Elena," he said sharply. "Remember our deal."
"I don't care about our deal," she said desperately. "I just don't want anything to happen to you. I..."
His sudden, passionate kiss silenced her. His hand clasped the back of her head, closing tightly on a handful of silky hair as his lips took hers. When he raised his head, his eyes were dark.
"I'll be back," he whispered.
"Blake, don't..."
Hasta luego, Princess."
He was out of the truck
before she could answer. Her heart pounded as she sat on the edge of the seat, watching as he moved up the road slowly and carefully, pausing now and then to sniff the air like a jaguar stalking its prey. Suddenly, he stepped to the side of the road and clambered up the slope. Elena held her breath as he stopped mid-way to the top and looked towards the rocky walls that rose on either side of the downed tree. Slowly, her pent-up breath began to hiss from between her open lips. Everything was fine; the forest was still silent. She smiled and put her hand on the door—when a piercing cry rent the air.
Men leaped out from behind boulders and trees at the top of the ravine. Elena shrank back in her seat.
"Run," she whispered. Almost as if he'd heard the plea, Blake began to scramble down the slope. But it was useless. The men were on him like wolves on a deer, and they dragged him to the ground.
"No," she whimpered, putting her hand to her mouth, "no, please!"
She wrenched the door open and stumbled out of the truck. Quickly, she began to run back along the road. How long would it take her to get to Mazatal? They'd driven for two hours, maybe more. Dear God, it would take her many times that to get back.
Her breath puffed in and out of her lungs.
Six hours, maybe. Or eight. And then it would be another hour until she found the policia and told them her story, and then two or three hours again until the policia reached the spot where Blake had been taken by the bandits...
And that would be too late. Besides, if the policia recognized her as Eduardo Esteban's daughter, who knew what might happen? Blake needed help, and he needed it now.
Elena's footsteps slowed, then stopped. Above the rasp of her own breath, she heard the sounds of the forest. No one had seen her. At least she had that on her side. Quickly, she trotted off the road into the trees. Then, moving stealthily, she began to climb.
By the time she neared the abandoned truck, she could hear the bandits laughing and talking among themselves. Blake's hands had been bound behind his back, but he was on his feet. Thank God, Elena thought as she stared at him from behind a leafy shrub. His face was pale, and there was a thin smear of blood beside his mouth, but at least he was alive.
Her heart skipped a beat as one of the bandits hauled the carryall from the truck. What if he zipped it open and found her things, a woman's things? They might begin to search for her. But the carryall was passed from hand to hand and finally the last man draped it over his arm.
Suddenly, there was a yell of triumph.
A bandit had been poking beneath the seats and now he held up a bottle of tequila. They'd found Manuel's private hoard. Elena watched as he opened it and took a long swallow. The man beside him laughed and snatched the bottle from him, drank, and then passed it on. Before long, the bottle was empty.
The bandits' laughter grew louder. One of them stuck a gun in Blake's ribs and Elena almost cried out, but Blake stood motionless and finally the man grinned and tucked the pistol into his pocket.
"Vamos," he said, shoving Blake hard. One man climbed into the truck, started it, and drove it into a clearing. He opened the hood and, to the sound of much laughter from his companions, he removed the rotor before joining them as they moved out, single file, along the road.
Hidden in the trees, Elena followed, wincing at what seemed like the loud crunching of her footsteps on the forest floor. But the bandits were noisy; they grew noisier after a second bottle of tequila had been opened and passed from man to man, and by the time they finally reached a trail that led off the road to their rude camp in the forest, she was no longer afraid they'd realize she was following them.
They were drunk, laughing at Blake, taunting him with insults. All she feared now was that their alcohol-induced humor would become truly vicious before she could figure out a way to free him from the bandits' clutches.
The men drank through the morning and into the afternoon, trying to finish Manuel's private stock in one sitting. They had tied Blake to a tree on the far side of the camp; every now and then, one would stagger to his feet and shuffle off to relieve himself, invariably pausing beside Blake long enough to deliver an insult or threaten him with a pistol or a fist.
But by the time the shadows began to lengthen, all but one of the bandits lay sprawled in a drunken stupor. Elena watched as the man yawned mightily, pushed his hat over his eyes, and leaned back against a tree. Within seconds, he, too, was snoring.
When she crept from the trees, Blake was so intent on trying to free his hands that she was almost upon him when he froze and then slowly lifted his head. His eyes widened in disbelief.
"Princess!"
The whispered word was an explosion. Her pulse raced as one of the men mumbled in his sleep, and she shook her head wildly. Freeing Blake from the ropes that bound him was difficult; it was as if the knots securing him were determined to defy her fingers. But finally he rose silently to his feet, grimacing as the blood flooded back to his limbs. Together, they untied his wrists; then, carefully, he retrieved the carryall which had been discarded in favor of Manuel's tequila.
"Hurry," Elena pleaded in a silent whisper, and he nodded.
The two of them faded into the trees and then broke into a trot. They ran for what seemed like forever. When they were almost at the road, Elena's legs buckled. Blake caught her just as she began to slip to the ground.
"Can you go a little further?" he asked in an urgent whisper.
"Ju...just give me a minute to get my br...breath..."
His arm encircled her waist. "Lean against me," he said, drawing her against his side. "That's my girl." He watched her anxiously as she drew several deep breaths. "OK now?" She nodded and they began walking, his arm still around her. "I'd like to put a little more distance between those guys and us!"
"I thought... I was afraid..."
She was still gasping for breath, and Blake drew her more closely against him.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll be fine. They may have disabled the truck but Manuel told me about a cave up here." She looked at him, disbelief etched into her face. "Yeah, I know, it's a long shot, but it's all we've got. He told me that when he and his cousin were contrabandistas, they used to hide out in a cave that's not far from where we are now."
"But the bandits..."
He shook his head. "They won't realize I'm gone for hours, Princess. That tequila is powerful stuff. And I don't think they'll come after me. It's not worth the effort. I mean, they got my wallet and the truck, and that's all they wanted."
"Did they get our papers, too?" Elena drew air deep into her lungs. "We're going to be in real trouble if..."
He laughed softly. "Hell, they didn't even get our money."
She glanced up at him. "But you said..."
"I've been in enough places like this to know better than to make it easy for scum like them. They got a handful of quetzals, that's all. The rest, and our papers, are all tucked away safely in my belt."
"Poor Manuel," Elena whispered. "His truck..."
"We'll buy him a new one, Princess. Don't worry about it. Just lean on me and keep moving. It's going to be dark soon, and I'd sure as hell like to be in that cave by then."
She nodded. She hadn't the energy to tell him they'd never find the cave in these endless acres of jungle. And that was just as well, because not long after that, Blake drew her into a rocky cleft in the hillside, dark and smelling faintly of animals, but still the most welcome sight imaginable.
Elena sank to the cave's leaf-strewn floor and leaned back against the rocky wall, watching while Blake took a book of matches from the carryall and built a fire.
"Bless you, Manuel," she sighed. "We're going to buy you the biggest, most beautiful truck in the world when this is over."
Blake laughed. "If we pack it full of tequila, he'll love it." She nodded, eyes closed, listening to the crackling of the fire. "Here," he said. "Take a drink of this."
She opened her eyes. He was squatting beside her, holding out a flask. Elena took it from him and ti
lted it to her mouth. Water, tepid and slightly alkaline, trickled down her throat.
"Mmm," she said, wiping her chin with the back of her hand, "delicious. Was that Evian or Perrier?"
"Very amusing.”
Elena looked at him in surprise. His voice had gone flat and the expression on his face was grim.
"What's the matter?"
He closed the flask and stuck it into the carryall. "Come on, Princess. Don't play dumb. You know damned well."
"No, I don't know. Are you worried about the bandits? You said..."
She gasped as Blake grasped her shoulders. "What the hell do you mean by defying my orders?" he growled.
"Defying..."
"I told you you were to get the hell out if there was trouble. I told you not to look back."
"Is this your idea of a joke? Because if it is..."
"Do I look as if I'm joking?"
Her eyes searched his face. "No," she said after a pause. "No, you don't."
"Damned right," he said as he glared at her.
"But..."
"Never mind the excuses," he snapped. "Why the hell didn't you do as you were told?"
"You're impossible, do you know that?" she hissed. "If I'd done as I'd been told, you'd still be sitting in that camp, listening to those banditos snore."
"And you'd be in Mazatal."
Elena's chin lifted. "Exactly. And who knows what would have happened by the time I finally got somebody to come looking for you—if I got somebody, hmm?"
Firelight glinted in his dark eyes. "Ah," he said softly, "now I understand. If something had happened to me, you'd have lost your safe conduct to Miami."
Her voice quivered with anger. "You really are a bastard, Mr. Rogan. Do you really believe I'd... I'd risk my neck just because... just for..." Her voice broke and she turned her face away. "If that's what you think..."
His hands spread along her shoulders and up her neck. "No," he said quietly, "that's not what I think." His fingers tangled in her dark hair and he moved closer to her. "Look at me, Elena."
The softness in his voice was mesmerizing. Slowly, she turned and looked at him from beneath her lashes.
"Then...then why did you say it?" she whispered.
Sandra's Classics - The Bad Boys of Romance - Boxed Set Page 59