Ignoring the throbbing pain in his stomach and head where Buck had punched him, Dave began to run.
The man was kneeling over a dark, hunched form that lay horridly still.
Dave slithered to his knees just as the man began to rise.
“I shot him,” the man said in Spanish. He was wearing some kind of uniform, but Dave paid no attention. His gaze was riveted on Cara Waters’ unmoving form.
“Is she...?”
“I do not know,” the man called over his shoulder. “I must get Tarrant.”
Dave didn’t even think to wonder why. He grabbed Cara’s shoulders and began to shake her. Later he remembered shouting at her as well, but was never able to remember exactly what he said. All he could think of was the horrible way her arms fell limply, the way her head flopped without any resistance or reaction, like a flower on a bent stem.
She couldn’t be dead!
Dave raised his hand and brought it down with savage intensity against her cheek. The sickening sound of flesh against flesh sounded hollowly through the moonlit glade. Her head rolled loosely.
“Cara!”
Dave raised his hand again, only to have Señor Fonseca grab it.
“Señor Burkhart...” he said in a soft voice tinged with infinite pity. “Do not defile the dead.”
“She’s not dead!” Dave roared wildly, not knowing in what language he spoke. The cry came from the very core of him. “She’s not...”
But he didn’t hit her again. Enough reason had returned to know that there were better ways. He tipped her head back and pinched her nostrils shut, then clamped his mouth over hers and exhaled with as much force as he dared.
“No, señor!” cried a horrified Señor Fonseca, grabbing at Dave’s shoulders. “In the name of God...You must not profane her body...”
Dave brushed him away with dispassionate violence. “Leave me alone!” he shouted and, gasping for breath, blew into her lungs again.
She can’t be dead, she can’t be...there was so much he had to straighten out, so much he needed to know, so much he had to say...
“Please, señor...” pleaded Señor Fonseca, determinedly crawling back towards Dave only to stop dead as Cara’s hand moved.
And she coughed.
And opened unseeing eyes.
Still only semi-conscious, she lashed out with both hands in automatic self-defense.
Dave caught her flailing arms and held them to his chest. She was too weak to do any real damage to him, but he feared she might hurt herself.
“Cara...Cara, it’s all right. He’s gone.”
“Buck...” she whispered in a husky croak. Her eyes were blank with fear and grief. “He tried...”
“I know,” Dave said gently. “It’s all right.”
“The soldiers will catch him,” Señor Fonseca said in Spanish. “It is my son who went after him, and he will catch him. He is very good soldier.”
Dave translated as he pulled Cara’s unresisting body close. She only nodded as she sagged against him. Her breathing was rough and raspy as she gasped for oxygen. “We’ve got to get her to a doctor,” he said to Señor Fonseca.
The older man nodded. “We found the other’s car...it is perhaps a quarter of a mile away. I will get it and we will leave the army’s jeep for when my son brings in the other’s body.”
Dave didn’t translate that.
It seemed forever before Señor Fonseca returned, cautiously steering the small, garishly decorated Volkswagen Safari through the trees and across the meadow. The boxy open vehicles were the favored rental car for tourists. Dave thought they looked like a child’s toy magically enlarged.
“Where are we going?” Dave asked as they bundled Cara’s semi-conscious body into the absurd little car. It hurt his pride as well as his body that he could not lift and carry her, but Buck’s blows had left him barely able to move. He did insist on holding her in his arms once he was securely buckled in and it was not just for fear that she would fall out of the minuscule back seat.
Señor Fonseca put the car into gear and, the tiny engine protesting, they sped off over the meadow. “We were told that when we found you two, we were to take you to the field headquarters.”
“Field headquarters? What the...? She needs a hospital! Take us to Puerto Vallarta and I’ll take full responsibility.”
“What field headquarters?” murmured Cara thickly. “You can’t go there...you’re a criminal...”
“Hush, Cara, hush...”
“But they’ll catch you...”
“It’ll be all right...I promise,” Dave said, putting a gentle finger across her lips as she drifted away from consciousness once more.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing, señor, nothing. We just need to get her to a hospital.”
“We were told to take you to the authorities, señor,” the older man said with implacable implications. “Those were my son’s orders, so I must obey them.”
* * * * *
She should be hurting.
As Cara drifted slowly back up to consciousness, she was vaguely aware that something was wrong. There had been pain (why?), there had been injuries (what?), and yet she didn’t feel anything. Somehow, she felt she should. There was something there, something she should be afraid of approaching, but she didn’t know what. Still it lay there, dark, hulking, and hidden under a blanket of temporary ignorance.
“Buck!”
Everything came back in a jumble of disconnected images. A broken sandal. Moonlight. The lurking forest. Dave Burkhart lying in a broken heap. Buck kneeling over her. His words...His hands....
“Hush...it’s all right.”
Gentle fingers brushed a sweaty fringe of hair back from her face.
“Dave?”
The bed shifted slightly as he sat down. “It’s all right, Cara. Go back to sleep.”
“You’re not dead.” Somehow, no matter how fuzzy Cara was, it seemed very important to make sure of that.
“No. Just bruised a bit.”
“Buck...”
“We don’t know.” Dave’s voice hardened. Even more asleep than not, she was concerned about Buck Tarrant. Didn’t she know...? Her memory was affected; that was the answer. She couldn’t remember...
“Buck tried to kill me.”
“I know. Go back to sleep...”
“Buck tried to kill me and you saved my life. Thank you.” Blindly her hand groped out until it found his and closed tightly, as if on a lifeline. “It’s dark.”
“It’s night, and you should be asleep.”
“This must be the longest night on record,” Cara said wryly. The fog was leaving her voice. “All that time we were running, and it’s still dark, and I really do feel like I’ve been asleep forever...”
Dave chuckled. “You have. You pretty much slept the clock around.”
“You mean it’s the next night?” Cara asked not very lucidly. “I slept all day?”
“With a little help. The corpsman gave you a sedative before he took care of your injuries.”
Without letting go of Dave’s hand, Cara wiggled into more of an upright position. Dave leaned across her to stuff a pillow under the back of her head, his touch soft and unerring in the velvety dark. He had to lean over her and the closeness of his body was almost a prelude to an embrace. Cara couldn’t see a thing, but she could feel his closeness and opened herself to the expectation of his touch.
When he simply fluffed the pillow and pulled back, she felt empty and groundless, almost as if she had fallen from a great height and not yet hit the bottom.
“Where are we?”
“An old hotel in the mountains, not far from Puerto Vallarta. The army has taken it over for a field headquarters.”
“The army!” Cara squeaked, then lowered her voice to a breathy whisper. “You can’t be here...they’ll arrest you...”
“It’s all right, Cara...”
“I won’t say anything, but you have to get away...”
/> “It’s all right,” Dave repeated, giving her clutching hand a reassuring pat. “They bought my cover story. Besides, they’ve got more to worry about right now. And that’s enough talk for now. You had a rough time...” He tried not to think about the horrible time he had spent watching and waiting while the frighteningly young medical corpsman, obviously out of his depth, had worked over her or about how he had sat by her bed through most of the day, listening anxiously for each rasping breath.
“If you think I can go back to sleep now...” The sentence trailed off as Cara sat up fully, almost knocking heads with Dave. “What are you doing in my room? Are we...married again?” She squirmed back against the headboard, hoping she had covered the slight catch in her voice.
“No. They know who you are. I’m in the next room. I just came in to check when I heard you get restless.”
“Do they know about me...and Buck?” Cara was embarrassed. How criminally, idiotically stupid she had been!
“Yes. That’s why we’re still here.”
“Are we under arrest?”
“No, more like protective custody,” Dave replied with more confidence than he felt. “They just want to know we’re safe until everything is brought under control.”
“Safe? Control? What, Dave? I don’t know what’s going on! What is happening?”
The room flooded with light as the door opened.
“Ah, I thought I heard voices. Is everything all right?” asked a deep, smooth voice in almost unaccented English.
Cara could feel Dave tense. Squinting to accustom her eyes to the dazzle, Cara looked up into one of the most handsome faces she had ever seen. Sensually heavy-featured, the man wore a crisply pressed khaki uniform that looked as if it had just stepped off the ironing board. His hair was dark and curly and he had a luxuriant mustache. She knew she had never seen him before in her life, but still he looked vaguely familiar.
“Fine, capitan. Miss Waters woke up in some distress. I’m trying to get her back to sleep.”
“It is a delight to see the señorita looking so well.” The capitan walked to the side of the bed, gave a courtly bow, and raised Cara’s free hand for a formal kiss. “And how are you feeling?”
“I’m glad to be alive,” Cara asked bluntly. “Who are you?”
“Capitan Diego Fonseca, at your service.” Another bow.
“Fonseca! You’re...”
He smiled, showing a great number of very white teeth. “Yes. You met my parents and brothers and sisters a few days ago, I believe.”
And Dave is the one who stole your father’s truck! Cara thought in horror. If you knew that...
Dave saw the panic in her eyes. “The capitan’s father is the one who lent us the truck.”
“Lent?” The word seemed to leap from her mouth under its own power.
“My father and Señor Burkhart decided it would be safer if it appeared he had stolen the truck,” Capitan Fonseca said easily. “That way my family was protected if there were ever any question of them having helped you voluntarily. That is also why my mother was so rude to you that morning. She only knew that you were in some way involved with the Arvisus. They are not popular with many of the local farmers. I assure you she will be told the truth as soon as it is...practical.”
So she had wrecked the truck and endangered their lives for nothing, Cara realized with a sinking feeling. How could she have known? Just how much of this (what?) was her fault?
“Protected from what?” she asked crossly. “I’m tired of not knowing anything!”
The capitan turned surprised eyes to Dave. “You have not told her...?”
“No one has told me anything,” Cara said with surprising vehemence, “so why don’t you?”
Chapter Ten
As outlined by the dashing capitan, the whole thing seemed distressingly simple. Ignoring Dave’s glares, Capitan Fonseca had pulled over the room’s only chair and, straddling it, had begun to talk.
Dave had been right when he guessed that Jaime Arvisu was not on the up and up. Retired from a government office that, though rather high up, should not have paid more than a modest retirement, Arvisu managed to live in luxury. Anxious to eradicate a history of more than occasional corruption and implement a new get-tough policy, the government had been watching him. His good fortune had coincided with an upswing in drug activity in the area, which had brought the attention of the police and eventually the army. Capitan Fonseca had been assigned the duty because he knew the area so well. His father, unknown to his wife or family, had been feeding him information. The dictatorial ways of the Arvisus had not made them popular among the locals.
The night everything happened, the army had intercepted a radio message from the Arvisu stronghold about the old barn; they had found Murchison, but had missed Buck only by minutes. Buck, the capitan hypothesized, had killed Murchison in a fight over the division of the spoils.
Dave squeezed Cara’s hand in unspoken warning.
Capitan Fonseca and his troops had been not far behind Buck. His father had been acting as guide, a fact that had proved lucky for Cara.
“He knew there was nothing in that area but the ruins of the old restaurant. When Tarrant broke away from the trail in that direction, we decided to go right there. I saw him choking you and fired a shot. I know I hit him, but he got up and ran into the woods.”
“You saved my life,” Cara said quietly. Her throat was raspy and it felt as if she would never get enough air, but compared to what might have been...“Thank you.”
“No thanks are necessary, señorita,” Capitan Fonseca replied suavely, favoring her with a smile that could break hearts all by itself. “Seeing you all better is reward enough.”
“Have you found Tarrant’s body yet?” Dave asked more harshly than he intended.
“Not yet, but I have soldiers searching the area. He could not have gotten far.”
Dave had his own ideas about that, but kept his mouth shut. Tarrant had proved himself a slippery devil.
“When can I take Miss Waters away? I think she would be better off at home.”
“Things are unsettled, señor. We do have Señor Arvisu in custody, but we would like things to be more settled before leaving you without protection.” The capitan shrugged in a motion that was pure poetry. “I am sorry I cannot tell you more at this time, but this is a large and dangerous operation. We hope to make your stay with us as pleasant as possible.”
Cara almost shivered. Listening to Capitan Fonseca was like swallowing medicine wrapped in candy. All you tasted was sweet, but in spite of everything, there was still a bitter under taste. What wasn’t he telling them?
“We appreciate your concern,” Dave said neutrally.
The capitan dismounted the chair as he would a horse and bowed once more over Cara’s limp hand. “It is a very great pleasure to see you looking so well, Señorita Waters. Are you going back to sleep immediately, or might I have something sent up for you to eat?”
It was a kind thought, especially since she hadn’t eaten since...Cara’s mind flashed back to the elaborate meal Buck had ordered for them in her room. Once upon a time, she had been hungry, and thought longingly about that missed supper. Had Buck intended to kill her then? Chicken something-or-other, a quick after-dinner kiss and then poof, you’re dead? Her stomach knotted painfully with revulsion. She might never eat again.
“No,” she gasped. “I couldn’t eat.” It was not a thing she said often, but this time she meant it.
“In that case, I shall take my leave. Coming, Señor Burkhart?”
Dave looked the officer calmly in the eyes. “No, not for a while. I thought I’d sit with Cara until she went back to sleep.”
With another courtly nod, Capitan Fonseca was gone, closing the door soundlessly behind him.
Cara released the tears she had been holding back. They bubbled up in the corners of her eyes and slipped down her cheeks in a steady, silent stream.
Mentally, Dave swore. No woman had a ri
ght to look that beautiful when she cried, especially after everything she had been through. With a gentle thumb, he brushed at the salty trails.
“Now isn’t that just like a woman,” he said with a disastrous attempt at levity. “Everything’s over, everyone’s safe, and then they start to cry.”
“Don’t be urbane with me,” Cara replied. “I’ll cry if I want to.”
“You can cry all you want, if that makes you happy.” Dave gingerly gathered her into his arms and held her close, nestling her head in the bend of his shoulder. “You’ve earned it.”
“What I don’t understand is why?” Cara sniffled. “Why did Buck try to kill me? Why did he pretend to love me?”
“Cover. He was going to disappear, and if you disappeared at the same time, everyone would be looking for the two of you, not him and...well...”
“But that’s crazy!”
Dave caressed her hair soothingly. “Crazy people do crazy things, Cara. Some things we just can’t understand.”
A knock at the door made them jump. Dave released Cara quickly and motioned for her to remain quiet. Cautiously as a cat, he opened the door to reveal a young soldier extending a glass of milk.
“With the capitan’s compliments,” the boy said.
Locking the door, Dave sat back down on the bed and extended the glass. “Apparently our good captain wants to keep you healthy. Drink it.”
Until that moment, sitting straight up in the full glare of the single overhead bulb, Cara hadn’t even wondered what she was wearing or if she were wearing anything. She looked down and was relieved to find herself covered from the neck down in an indisputably old but clean white T-shirt.
“Where did this come from?”
“The medic got it from somewhere. We had to cut your clothes off you. Here, drink this.”
Cut her clothes off? Somehow, the idea of an anonymous medic, rather like a doctor, weren’t they, seeing her naked didn’t bother her, but the idea that Dave Burkhart had seen her without her clothes did. The fact that she was injured and unconscious didn’t change the fact, either.
The Other Half of Your Heart Page 13