Bride of the Tiger

by Heather Graham

  * * *

  The cabin phone let out a screech. Rafe sprang from the bed to catch it before it woke Tara, who was still sleeping with the most beautiful, soft smile on her lips.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Call from the States, sir. Mrs. Tyler. Shall I put it through?”

  He closed his eyes. Myrna. “Yes, of course, please,” he said softly.

  “Rafe, can you hear me?” She was shouting.

  He kept his voice low. “Yes, clearly.”

  “Oh, God, I’m so sorry to bother you. I wouldn’t except that, oh, Rafe, I just read the papers!”

  She was trying to sound calm. He knew that she had been crying.

  “I’m sorry. What are you talking about?”

  “It’s front page news up here. ‘Millionaire Playboy to Wed Galliard Girl.’”

  “Oh.” Damn! The press did move swiftly!

  “Rafe, I don’t mean to question you. But you haven’t—you haven’t forgotten Jimmy? I don’t mean to question your judgment, but she’s our only hope! You won’t risk finding him, Rafe? I mean, I’ve never known you to be taken in or fooled, but she was there. She was with him....” Her voice trailed away. Pathetically.

  “I haven’t forgotten, Myrna. Please, trust me.”

  “I do,” Myrna said.

  He wasn’t sure that the words had conviction. He sighed softly. “Please don’t worry.”

  “You’ll let me know as soon as you learn anything?”

  “I promise.”

  “I’m sorry, Rafe—”

  “Don’t be. Please. Trust me.”

  “I will. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Soon. Take care.”

  “You take care, too. I couldn’t bear it if you, ah, if you were hurt in any way.”

  “I won’t be. Goodbye, and don’t worry.”

  He hung up, then pressed his temples with his fingers. He glanced over at the bed. Her hair spilled over his pillow; she was still wearing that smile that could have melted rock.

  He closed his eyes. He loved her; he believed in her.

  But he couldn’t tell her anything. He couldn’t afford to have her turn against him.

  And no matter what he felt, he couldn’t jeopardize his chances. Myrna’s chances. Jimmy’s chances. What if it were all a lie? What if she had smiled at Jimmy the same way she smiled at him?

  No...

  He walked over to the porthole and moved the draperies.

  They were in Caracas. He saw the mountain, purple and green, shrouded in mist, rising in front of the ship as they approached land.

  Caracas...

  He closed his eyes tightly. They were here; he could feel it, feel the tension rising like the mist. He and Tara had been coming closer and closer to the past.

  They were here.

  She stirred, shading her eyes against the morning light, then smiled tentatively, only half awake. “Are we here?”

  Her lashes shaded her cheeks; her hair was sun against the sheets. The exquisite lines of her body curved as she stretched.

  He came back to the bed, lay down beside her and took her in his arms. “We’re not quite there—we’re here,” he murmured. And he kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, and then her lips.

  The day could wait. It seemed urgent that he make the dawn last.

  CHAPTER 11

  It should have taken most of the day to make the move from the ship to the hotel. Between everyone’s personal belongings and the Galliard creations and accessories, there was quite a bit to be transported.

  But there were no delays, no customs problems, no traffic. And at the hotel, there was absolutely no wait at the reception desk. The manager himself greeted them. Everything had worked out incredibly smoothly.

  Ashley and Tara were together again, on the fourth floor.

  The room was very similar to the one she had stayed in last time in Caracas—with Tine.

  Ashley laughed when the bellhop left. “What do you want to bet that this room has a connecting door?”

  Tara smiled. “It does. He called in before we left the ship.”

  Ashley arched a superbly shaped brow, then grinned. “Why didn’t you just move in with him?”

  Tara shrugged. “Well, I’m working.”

  Ashley frowned suddenly, stood and walked over to the window. “Where is he now?”

  “Well, I expected this to take all day. His firm buys a lot of its gold here. And he has a store here, too. He had some business to attend to. I don’t expect him back until late afternoon.”

  “We don’t have to do anything tomorrow until the big showing for the South American aristocracy. We could stay here, of course, but why on earth would we want to? Tara, are you really all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “I mean, being here hasn’t made you queasy or anything?”

  “Ashley, I’ve always loved Venezuela. The people are great. I can’t blame the place for what happened.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  “Of what?”

  “Of Tine being here somewhere.”

  Tara shook her head. “I’m sure I’m not worth waiting two years for when he could get arrested here. No, I’m not afraid. Besides, I’m not going to run off anyplace by myself.”

  “Think we’re safe enough in public?”

  “Sure.”

  “I was just dying to go back to the glass factory. Last time I bought the most beautiful swans! I wanted to see what else they have that might complement—oh! I forgot! It was at the glass factory—”

  “The glass factory wasn’t guilty, either!” Tara exclaimed, laughing. “That’s just where I met Jimmy. And it’s all in the past, Ashley. If you want to buy some glass, we’ll get a taxi and go right now.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t. What if Rafe comes back?”

  “What if he does? I’ll leave him a note.”

  “But—”

  “Ashley.” Tara interrupted a little harshly. “I’m in love with him. I want to spend my life with him. But I had a ‘keeper’ once. If I thought that I had to ask permission to go places, I wouldn’t be with Rafe. I’ll never live like that again! If I’d been the least bit wiser, I would have understood that Tine had no trust in me and no sense of security in himself—besides the fact that he was a criminal! Let’s go. I’ll leave Rafe a message at the desk.”

  Ashley, a little stunned by the passion in Tara’s voice, saluted sharply. “Yes, Ma’am! I’ll call for a taxi.”

  She did. Seconds later, they were outside the elegant lobby, being helped into a taxi by a doorman.

  “What a beautiful day!” Ashley murmured. She attempted some of her choppy Spanish on the taxi driver, who good-naturedly corrected her.

  He was answering her, showing her something out the window, when she frowned and shook Tara’s arm.

  “We’re being followed.”

  “Oh, come on, Ashley.”

  “I’m serious. That taxi left the hotel right when we did—and it’s still behind us.”

  Tara felt as if her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t help it; she was suddenly frightened.

  There definitely was a cab behind them. And Ashley could well be right—it might have been following them since they had left the hotel. She squinted; she couldn’t see into the cab very well. Even though they were on a crowded street—Caracas was a big, modern city—and moving slowly, the windows of both cabs were tinted.

  They came to a traffic light. Tara could see that there was one person in the rear of the cab. A man, who appeared to be elderly.

  She looked at Ashley and shrugged. “Ash, one of the big tourist attractions here is the glass factory. I think every tour takes you there.”

  Ashley thought about it. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe I should tell our driver to lose him.”

  “Not on your life!” Tara protested. Their driver was already moving incredibly fast for her. And they were leaving the city behind them, speeding toward the mountain.

  As
hley sighed and leaned back. “Well, don’t blame me if that cab catches us.”

  “Ashley, if we told our driver to lose that cab, it would probably catch up with us anyway. Like you said, the old guy is probably headed for the glass factory, too!”

  Ten minutes later, they had climbed high along the mountain trail; through the trees, Tara could see the buildings of the glass factory.

  Fear crept over her. Nothing had changed. The sand, the dirt, the stone paths, and the trees were just the same.

  Even the sky was the same, just beginning to cloud, beautifully blue above the vegetation that hugged the mountain. Eventually night would come, and it would be completely dark, except for the light of the stars.

  Tine had disappeared into the trees. Jimmy, too, had simply disappeared. No one had ever found either of them.

  “We’re here.” Ashley prodded her. Tara made herself smile, because Ashley looked so worried.

  Ashley paid the cabdriver, who assured her they would have no difficulty getting back. They crawled from the cab, and Tara was certain that he was right—there was an abundance of tour buses and taxis parked on the grounds.

  The cab they had noticed on their way was pulling in behind them. It seemed to slow, then continue—parking behind one of the tour buses.

  “What do you make of that? The cab that was following us slowed down, then speeded up,” Tara said.

  Ashley frowned. “Maybe we should just go back.”

  “No. It’s broad daylight. Nothing can happen.”

  “Maybe we should get inside. Either the store or the workshop.”

  Tara shook her head. “I want to see who was in that cab.”

  “How will you be able to tell? There are a dozen people getting off the buses.”

  Tara shook her head. “Let’s just pretend we’re waiting for someone.”

  “Okay.”

  They stood there and waited. People came and went. Most of the visitors seemed to be from cruise ships; they were laughing, wearing ridiculous straw hats and gaily showing one another their purchases.

  “How long should we wait?” Ashley asked.

  Tara shook her head and shrugged with disgust. “This is stupid. Let’s just go.”

  “All right. We’ll go in quickly.”

  “No, we won’t! I’m not going to be neurotic. Let’s go watch them working, get a soda, and then we’ll shop and leave.”

  “Tara, if you’re uncomfortable—”

  “I’m not!”

  “Okay,” Ashley said. “Let’s go, then.”

  They went down a few steps to follow the path to the workshop. Tara loved to watch the glassblowers—it always seemed so amazing to her that the men could take such a mass of nothing, heat it, and then blow and mold it into a thing of beauty. They watched a young mustached man with wonderful showmanship craft an exquisite owl. They applauded with the others and moved around the outside of the protective railing to watch an older man, stout and grim, form an elegant fluted glass.

  Tara stared across the room. The railing followed the outline of the building; the artisans could be viewed from either side.

  She frowned, noticing an older man on the other side. He was tall and stately and white-haired, and she could have sworn that she had seen him somewhere else.

  “Ashley—look casually across. Do you think that man could be the man in the cab? Does he look familiar to you?”

  Ashley wasn’t exactly casual. She stared. The gentleman moved back into the crowd.

  “He saw us looking at him, and he moved,” Tara said.

  “Ooh, Tara! He did look familiar!”

  “I saw him. And I saw his back on the ship the other day! He came in on our ship—that’s it! Curaço! When I was waiting for Rafe. I saw him walking away, down one of the hallways!”

  “But Tara, I wasn’t there, and I saw him before and—oh!”

  “What?”

  “The restaurant! That’s the man who had lunch with Rafe the day that we met him!”

  “His uncle—or so he said.”

  “Tara! Why would he lie?”

  “Why would his uncle be on the ship—why wouldn’t Rafe even bother to have him join us once?”

  Ashley had no answer for that one. Tara pursed her lips grimly and started walking.

  “What are you doing?” Ashley asked anxiously.

  “I’m going to ask him!”

  “Wait, Tara—”

  “Just hurry! Or I’ll lose him!”

  “Coming, coming,” Ashley muttered.

  There suddenly seemed to be people everywhere. Tara determinedly moved through them, murmuring a dozen excuse-mes. She came out of the building, into the sunlight again, and saw him hurrying past the soda machines.

  She was so busy watching him that she didn’t notice the tall, broad Latino she suddenly crashed into full force. He was young. He caught her arms, then gave her a sexy smile. “Hello.”

  “Hello. Excuse me.” Quickly she jerked her arms free and dashed after her prey, Ashley still on her heels.

  He was starting to move toward the buses. She followed. “Wait! Sir! Wait!”

  She was almost on top of him. Unable to ignore her anymore, he stopped, an unhappy expression on his face.

  “Sir! You’re related to Rafe Tyler!”

  “Uh—”

  “Please. You were with him in the Plaza. Having lunch. And you were on the boat. And you were just following us!”

  He grimaced sheepishly. “Not doing a very discreet job of it, eh?” he said with a sigh.

  Tara frowned. “I don’t understand. Why weren’t you with us on the ship? You are his uncle, aren’t you?”

  “In a way.”

  Ashley, panting, reached them. “Hi,” she said, out of breath.

  “Hi,” the man said.

  “I’m Ashley.”

  “I’m Sam.”

  “Sam! Good, that’s a start!” Tara snapped. “Now, Sam, what is going on here?”

  Sam didn’t have a chance to answer. From behind Tara came an unknown voice, accented, deep.

  “My love! There you are! I’ve been waiting. How good it is to see you!”

  Confused, Tara began to turn. She barely saw the Latin man with whom she had just collided, and then she was gasping, because he swooped her into his arms, holding her in such a crush that she could barely breathe, much less speak.

  “Tara!” she heard Ashley scream. She dimly saw that Ashley tried to come after her but that another young man stepped in her way and crudely knocked Ashley down.

  The old man, Sam, was white. She was terrified to see him start running and then fall from a well-aimed and determined blow like the one that had sent Ashley to her knees.

  Tara opened her mouth and screamed. Her captor’s arms tightened more securely about her.

  “Someone wants to see you, baby! And it’s worth a lot of money!”

  She screamed again. She could hear a murmur of voices. She struggled, managing to tear a nice gouge out of her assailant’s face.

  But all to little avail. Tourists were beginning to murmur, as if they were beginning to realize that this wasn’t a lovers’ tryst at all.

  But could anyone help? She was being swiftly carried toward a waiting compact car, the engine running, a driver ready to hit the gas the minute she was tossed into the back seat.

  Panic seized her. She was afraid that she would lose consciousness.

  She should have never come back. It seemed that Tine had waited for her after all.

  No! She wasn’t a fatalist—and she wasn’t going to be anyone’s victim. Not while she could still scream, still breathe, still move. She started struggling again, and screaming, wriggling so wildly that her captor had to slow down. She could see that Ashley was up again, shrieking that someone needed to help them.

  Just then another car drove into the gravel parking lot. She could hear the sudden screech of the tires.

  “Let her go! Now!”

  Rafe’s voice...


  The man holding her hugged her tighter against him. She was aware of his cologne, aware of the rough fabric of his shirt against her cheek.

  And then she felt another set of arms, wrenching at her, attacking the man.

  The accomplice who had tripped Ashley was suddenly at Rafe’s back. Rafe turned, slammed a fist into the man’s gut, and turned back to Tara. This time when Rafe wrenched at her, her assailant let her go.

  Rafe and Tara fell to the ground together.

  Both men leaped into the metallic blue car. The tires screeched, dust and rock blew into their faces, and the car careered away down the path.

  Rafe’s arms tightened around Tara. She could hear the frantic beating of his heart, the rasping of his breath. He tilted her dirt-smudged face upward. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded.

  He helped her to her feet. Ashley, dusty, too, from her fall, came racing over.

  Sam followed more slowly, watching Rafe unhappily.

  “I’ve got to call the police. Ashley, stay with her. No, never mind. We’ll all go together.”

  He caught Tara’s hand and dragged her along to the shop, where he explained in Spanish what he wanted. A concerned salesgirl hurriedly handed him the phone. He talked to the police for a moment, describing the car, then hung up.

  He gazed at Tara, and she wanted more than anything on earth to believe all the ravaged emotion in the golden gleam of his eyes. But she still hadn’t spoken; she was definitely shaken, still trembling.

  And still concerned.

  Rafe had certainly made a timely appearance. And he hadn’t registered the least surprise at seeing Sam.

  “The police are coming. Can you talk to them all right?” he asked her.

  She had barely answered when they heard the sirens.

  One of the officers who came spoke English. He seemed to know Rafe—and he also seemed to be somewhat suspicious of her.

  She hadn’t met him two years ago—but it was more than possible that he had heard of her.

  He questioned her. She told him exactly what had happened. When he seemed a little skeptical, Ashley interrupted vigorously, telling him that everything was exactly the way Tara had told it. Sam spoke up, agreeing with them both and demanding indignantly that the officer treat the victim more tenderly.