With his leg now rendered practically useless, he pulled himself into a cluster of trees and dove behind a large, fallen dead log. He quickly tucked himself into a large rotted indentation carved out of it and pulled the underbrush up around him until he was completely covered in ground foliage and out of sight of his pursuers. He pushed his body as far as he could against the wood and waited in silence, his brain concentrating too much on survival to register the pain in his leg. A minute later, he heard the tearing of boots through the lush greenery alongside where he lay hidden, along with curt, staccato Spanish voices volleying back and forth among the guards. Craig lay silent, not daring to move a muscle or even breathe. It seemed an eternity passed while his pursuers searched for him, yet no one came upon him.
After a minute or two, the noise faded, and silence once again pervaded the area. Cautiously he struggled to his feet. No one was in sight. Perhaps they had gone to search in another direction, Craig thought, or went back to regroup, to send out a bigger search party, or the dogs, to scour the mountains for him.
That thought brought Craig quickly back to reality, and he began to run again, limping on his injured leg while he clenched his teeth with pain. The wound in his leg was still bleeding, forming red rivulets down to his ankle. He stayed low, using the brush and foliage to conceal himself.
He was about to collapse from exhaustion when, to his relief, he came upon a brisk moving stream. The water was moving south, down the mountain. He waded in and grimaced. The water was ice cold. He noticed a leaf-covered tree branch floating downstream. Wading in up to his neck, he caught the branch as it moved serenely past him. He used the branch as a camouflage as it traveled downstream through the jagged stones and ledges. Craig took the time to catch his breath and regain what little strength he had left as he hung onto its hot, dry branches.
An hour later, it was fully dark, and Craig knew he was probably miles away from the field house and the manhunt by now. He slowly waded back to the shore and dragged himself up onto an open space in the rocks. He collapsed on the ground, his tired lungs gasping for air. He lay still, completely exhausted.
Even though the flat rock was still warm from the daytime sun, the mountain air was chilly and he was soaking wet. His body trembled with cold, but he didn’t care. He got away!
He looked up. The hot, blue sky was now black. The night sky was brilliant, as usual, but tonight it was alive with shooting stars. A meteor shower. Craig smiled in the darkness. He watched the tiny streams of light streak across the silent sky, then burn out as they fell toward the earth. It was a beautiful sight. Watching them calmed his nerves and gave him hope. He began to relax.
He slid down the smooth surface of the rock and hid himself into a crag among the larger boulders, staying out of sight.
Suddenly his leg began throbbing. He looked down at it, but couldn’t see his injury very well in the dark. When he touched his pants, he felt the stocky ooze of blood emanating from a nice size hole in his leg. It was a serious wound, but he was lucky. The bullet had gone clean through his leg instead of getting lodged in body tissue. Surely the cold stream water had slowed the bleeding somewhat, but he had to cover the wound as soon as possible. If not, infection would set in, or even worse, he could bleed to death right here among the rocks.
Reaching for a sharp stone, Craig cut a hole through his pants below the knee. With tired, aching muscles, he worked his way around the leg, ripping away the fabric, exposing the wound. Working in the darkness, he tied the fabric around his leg. It would be a sufficient temporary bandage.
Finally, exhaustion overtook him, and balling up into a fetal position among the unyielding rocks, he fell asleep.
Chapter 22
The next morning Taylor awoke to sunshine flooding into her room. She had slept later than usual, and she knew why. She hadn’t slept well with Robert gone, especially after everything that had happened during his absence. She looked at her bedside clock. It was well past nine. It was just as well she missed breakfast, she decided. She didn’t feel particularly hungry this morning.
She got dressed and was ready to go downstairs when she heard a knock at the door. It was Carlos.
“Excuse me, Señorita,” he began. His tone held even more unfriendliness since their altercation in the cellar. He made it clear that no holds would be barred between them from now on. “Señor Cabrera has returned from his trip and wishes to see you in the library. Now.”
His eyes held a note of mockery to them, and Taylor knew then that he must have told Robert about their confrontation earlier.
“Thank you, Carlos,” Taylor responded stiffly. Let him report anything he desired to his employer, she thought smugly. She had a few things of her own to tell Robert as well.
A few minutes later, she went down to the library to find Robert sitting at his desk.
“Come in, Taylor,” he said. Although his tone was pleasant, Taylor detected a hint of impatient annoyance about it.
She sat down in one of the small chairs across from him. “So, how was your trip?” she began. “Everything went well, I take it.”
“Everything is fine,” he said, “but that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about. Carlos told me he found you down in the cellar.”
“Yes, he did,” Taylor replied. “I wanted to talk to you about that, Robert—”
“There is no need,” he said, cutting her off politely but firmly. “I don’t want you in that part of the house, Taylor.” He obviously didn’t want to hear what she had to say.
“I’m sorry, Robert,” Taylor said. “I was looking for the utility room to wash some clothes. I happened to be walking by there and found the door open. I wondered if the washing machine was down there, and I wandered down to have a look, that’s all. I can’t imagine why Carlos made such a fuss about it.”
“Don’t blame him,” Robert said, his voice beginning to soften. “He was simply doing his job. You see, I never put any time or money into that area of the house. It’s dark and empty and I don’t want anyone roaming around down there. It could be dangerous.”
“I found Julio with a food tray in his hands.”
“He was probably feeding the dogs.”
“In the wine cellar.”
“The wine cellar—yes,” Robert’s voice hesitated for a fraction of a second, then recovered.
He was telling the same lie.
“The staff will take care of all your needs, including your laundry,” he said. “At any rate, I trust my position is clear about that part of the house,” His word concluded with an air of finality. The issue was evidently closed.
“Yes, of course,” Taylor replied. She remembered the other item of business. “Robert, I noticed my phone was missing last night.”
“Missing?”
“I always place it on the bedside table, but last night it was gone. To be honest, I’m wondering if Carlos had something to do with it.”
“Carlos? Surely not, but if it makes you feel better, I will have the staff keep an eye out for your phone and speak to Carlos directly about it.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Good,” he said. His mood lightened. “Now, I promised you a trip into town to inquire about your Craig Phillips as soon as I returned, and we’re going to do just that. Get your things and we’ll be off.”
With those encouraging words, Taylor didn’t even bother to bring up the subject of the staff. She quickly ran upstairs and retrieved her purse, then met Robert in the entrance hall. They drove to the local police station, where Robert conversed in Spanish with the Chief of Police.
“We will do what we can to find your friend,” the chief told her in English as they were leaving. His words were comforting, but as she turned to leave, she thought she saw the two men exchange a subtle, private look between them she could not understand.
> She soon forgot about it, though, when she and Robert emerged into the warm afternoon sunshine. They had lunch in a quaint restaurant in the city. Then Robert took her for a drive into the mountains, where they stopped at a roped-off ledge along the cliffs to view the breathtaking scenery.
Taylor’s mind began to wander as she gazed out at the natural rock formations and sloping hills. Where was Craig now? Was he out there somewhere in the mountainous terrain, or not even in the country at all?
“Are you all right?” Robert asked, placing his arm around her shoulder.
“Yes, of course,” she replied. “I just hope the police can do something for me. When I went there before, I didn’t get past the desk officers.”
“Well, I’m sure they will do everything in their power to help you,” Robert said.
She turned to face him. “Robert, I want you to know I’m grateful for—”
“Shhh,” he answered softly. “You are thanking me more than you know.”
He ran his hand softly across her cheek, then turned her head toward him. His eyes held her with a strange intensity, putting a stop to anything further she wanted to say. Then he pulled her close to him and kissed her.
“You are very beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely into in her ear.
She drew back from his arms. Having feelings for another man was out of the question. Craig was the only man for her, even if he never came back to her again.
“I think we should be getting back now,” she said quietly. “It will be dark soon.”
“No,” he said firmly. He pulled her to him again, this time more firmly. He grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her head back. He kissed her again, roughly this time, grinding his face against hers. He slid his hand down across her hip and reached between her thighs.
“Is that better?” he breathed into her ear.
She struggled in his arms. “No, Robert. Stop it, please,” she said firmly.
He was strong, and he held her so tightly she could hardly breathe. Still holding on to her hair, he began tracing his fingers from her throat downward to her breast. His hand cupped it tightly. He was looking down at her, studying her. She couldn’t break away from his grip. She clamped her eyes closed for a terrifying moment, waiting for what he would do next.
And then, as suddenly as it occurred, it was over.
He released her. “I’m sorry, Taylor,” he said. “I don’t know what got into me. Please accept my apology.”
“What do you think you were doing just now? You scared me!” she asked, her terror turning to anger.
“I can’t explain it,” Robert said. “You were standing there, and you looked so beautiful against the backdrop of the mountains. I guess I just lost my head. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
She calmed down and nodded, wanting to believe him, yet he didn’t seem sincere. She was starting to feel afraid, wondering what he might do next. She reached for the car door with shaky hands. “It’s all right. I think I just want to go back to the house now.”
“Yes, of course,” Robert said gently as he opened the door for her. “And for whatever it’s worth, I truly am sorry, Taylor.”
As they drove back to the house, Robert chatted on conversationally about the scenery as if nothing had occurred between them at all. That was fine with her. It gave her time to think about what she was going to do. She’d seen a side to Robert Cabrera she had never seen before and didn’t want to see again. Their relationship was now altered forever.
Her mind raced with what she would do next. She knew she couldn’t stay at the Cabrera home any longer. She was now uneasy in his presence. Things could easily get out of hand again, and the next time, would she be so fortunate to avoid his advances? She’d been so eager to snatch at any bit of help in finding Craig that she suddenly found herself confronting a situation she hadn’t dared imagine. She sensed danger in Cabrera’s eyes and a strong body, making her question now whether he was a man she could, or should, trust.
She made her decision as the car wound down the narrow mountain road. She would tell him of her intentions to leave Mexico at dinner tonight. She would find out where her car was kept and leave first thing in the morning.
~ ~ ~
Throughout the day, Craig slowly, painfully, made his way through the maze of rocks and crevasses, following the path of the mountain stream as it wound downward. He didn’t have much strength left. Only one desperate thought drove him on—to find Taylor.
By day’s end he had made his way down the final slopes, where he came upon the outskirts of town. A flash of recognition crossed his mind as his eyes scanned the area. He remembered the fields when he was brought to Cabrera’s mansion. The house must be nearby.
He stayed out of sight and found refuge in one of the cornfields that dotted the highway. The high plants proved to be a secure hiding place. The corn he pulled from stalks also served to quench the intense hunger that had gnawed at him since his escape. He hadn’t eaten anything at all since noon the day before, when he had his share of the rancid rice mixture he’d eaten every day since his captivity.
Sitting on the ground in the middle of the field, he looked down at himself. He was a mess, to be sure. He was pale, thin, and dirty. His clothes were ragged, and his leg wound was a mass of ugly, raw flesh under the blood-soaked bandage he’d made the night before. His shirt was still stained with Shaun’s blood. He knew he couldn’t be seen in Culiacan in this condition, or the authorities would pick him up in no time. And he couldn’t risk that, not knowing who Cabrera’s contacts were in the Mexican legal system. For all he knew, he could end up being escorted right back into Cabrera’s lair. He decided to wait until darkness fell completely over the city before venturing any further.
As soon as it was dark enough for him to move on, he began making his way toward the access road that cut through the vegetation before him. He recognized the roadway as Cabrera’s. The house is probably at the top of the hill, he reasoned. He pressed on, keeping a low profile in the foliage that lined the drive up to the house.
He finally saw the house in the distance. He noticed the high, wrought-iron fence that ran along the property. It looked foreboding, with sharp, decorative tips that went along the top of each iron rung. His eyes followed its length while he gauged the height of the fence, bottom to top.
Well, lad, let’s see you climb this one, he snickered to himself. You’re wounded, and you’re not a kid anymore, remember? The fence stood well over eight feet high.
He walked closer to inspect the fence and heard a sound. It was a faint hum. His heart sank. The fence was electrified. Bloody well figures, he thought bitterly.
He leaned against one of the large trees that ran along the fence border, frustrated. He couldn’t bear the thought of having risked his life and traveled all this way for nothing. There had to be a way to get over the fence and into the house. There just had to be.
His eye casually wandered up its trunk and across the branches to the green leaves that fluttered in the breeze on the other side of the fence.
On the other side of the fence.
It suddenly dawned on him. He stepped back from the tree to study it. Yes, many of the stronger branches arced gracefully over the other side of the fence. If he could just climb up and over it—
Without thinking about what he was doing, he hooked his arms over the fork in the trunk a short way up. He pulled himself up, the foot of his good leg scrambling up until it found the branched fork. Ignoring the pain that shot through his injured leg, he continued climbing. He finally found the branch that hung over the top of the fence.
He stopped to assess the situation.
He could always walk along the branch until he could make the jump to the other side. On the other hand, if he made one slip in his footing, he would be impaled on the sharp poin
ts that decorated the fence top. Even worse, he would be electrocuted as soon as his body contacted the metal.
He licked his lips nervously. He had no other alternative. He had to go for it.
Breathing fast, he stood up and grasped the branch just above his head with one hand, while balancing himself on the lower branch. Gingerly, he took a step forward, but the branch dipped dangerously with his weight. He couldn’t step out much farther, or else the branch would touch the fence tips. He had to try something else, and fast, before someone discovered him.
Grasping the branch above him with both hands, he made a giant leap for the other side. He swung forward, and as he let go, he heard the branch graze the fence tips. There was a pop and blue flash of electricity in the darkness as the branch struck the metal points. Thankfully, he hit the ground with a thud before the branch and fence had made contact.
He lay immobile in the grass for a few minutes, stifling a scream in his sleeve from the burning pain shooting up his leg from the fall. Then, rising painfully on his good leg, he started toward the house.
Chapter 23
Dinner was in the dining room again now that Robert was back. The formal linen tablecloth and heavy silver had been laid out as usual. Though the meal was a pleasant change from the ones Taylor had eaten alone in her room while he was gone, she felt uncomfortable in his presence since the incident on the mountain. Robert, on the other hand, was full of conversation, chatting idly about the countries he had visited and lived in as if nothing had occurred between them earlier.
Taylor was just about to tell Robert her plans about leaving, when one of Robert’s hired hands, Juan, entered the room.
“Señor Montagne is in the library,” he said. “He wants to see you right away.”
A Perilous Pursuit Page 27