Renegade Moon (CupidKey)

by Rigley, Karen E.

  Destiny hid a grin, thoroughly enjoying the meal. In more ways than one. When Tina brought in the cake, cameras came out.

  “Excuse me,” Destiny said, dashing out to the truck for hers. Too much a photo-op to pass up. She snapped several, both posed and un-posed, and Carlos took one of just her and Eric.

  “Will you share those with us?” Leila asked.

  “Absolutely,” she said. “I’ll email them when I can get to a decent Wi-Fi signal.” With that, she returned her camera to the truck, pausing to snap a couple of photos of the Montoyas’ lovely home. She’d seen a cane beside the front door, but Carlos hadn’t used it, his limp barely noticeable.

  “We have to get moving,” Eric announced shortly thereafter. “They should have our material ready to load at the lumberyard by now.”

  “Here, son,” Carlos said, pressing something into Eric’s hand. Eric frowned, unfolding a check. “Happy birthday!”

  “Dad, Mom, this is too much,” he protested, obviously uncomfortable. He attempted to hand it back to his father.

  “It is not. You’re bringing that old ranch back to life, and it means a lot to your father and me,” his mother insisted, closing his fingers over the check.

  “Happy birthday, son. Just shut up and listen to your mother,” Carlos instructed him.

  “Take the money, little brother,” Martin chided. “It’s a gift. Be nice, for once.”

  Visibly relaxing, Eric grinned, and a round of good-bye hugs and farewells ensued, including Destiny. And, like their arrival, did not include Iris.

  As they left the porch, Iris latched onto Eric and walked to the truck with him, obviously committed to sitting beside him. Suddenly Destiny grew totally exhausted with the whole deal. Turning quickly, she walked beside Martin to the passenger side. Martin opened the door. She slid inside, smiling a ‘thank you’ at him as he sat beside her. She refused to even glance in Eric’s direction. She was furious at Iris and furious at Eric for allowing Iris to maneuver him. And if that woman so much as breathed on her camera she’d pitch her out of the truck! However the camera stayed in its place of safety, and Iris remained in the truck. Beside Eric.

  They didn’t even need to get out at the lumberyard. All the material was stacked and ready, and employees loaded it into the pickup bed. Eric signed the ticket and they went on their merry way back to Las Nubes.

  Destiny and Martin chatted as he pointed out things to her. She glanced over once, just long enough to see Iris’s hand resting on Eric’s leg. Her lunch turned to concrete.

  “Would you like to stop at the top of the canyon at the overlook?” Eric asked.

  At that, Destiny finally glanced at him. “Are you talking to me?”

  “Yep. Figured you might want to take pictures.” He kept his eyes on the road except for one quick glance that she didn’t miss. Was he merely being polite or was his offer sincere? Not for the first time, Destiny wished she could read his thoughts.

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” She cast her gaze down. This ride home had turned sour. Why, oh why had Iris showed up in the first place? She heartily wished Iris had not been there at the birthday lunch. Or here now, feeling up Eric’s thigh!

  Eric pulled off the highway at the top of the hill and everyone got out. Destiny grabbed her camera and started snapping. There were large boulders and big flat rocks that she could climb on and go to the very rim of the steep canyon. She ran around on the rocks, taking photos, and after several shots, she sat down on one of those large rocks and swung her legs over the edge. Eric and Martin were standing together, looking out over the canyon, and she took their picture.

  Unaware, Eric removed his hat, ran his fingers through his black hair, then replaced the hat. The men started back to the truck when Eric turned and came to her instead. A bitter expression pinched Iris’s face as she noticed Eric approach Destiny. Then Martin seized Iris’s shoulders and spun her to face him. Though their voices were pitched low, Destiny caught their words as they stood right in her line of sight.

  “Still chasing him, aren’t you?” Martin caressed Iris’s shoulders with his thumbs. “You’re wasting your charms.”

  “I suppose I should use my charms on you instead?” The toe of her boot tapped the ground impatiently.

  “You did once.”

  She let her lashes veil her eyes. “Don’t drag up the past, Martin.”

  “You’re dragging it up yourself just by being here. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

  Her lashes flew up and her violet eyes glared into his handsome face. “Don’t tell me what to do!”

  “Pardon me.” Martin gave her a flamboyant bow. “I forgot that no one is allowed to tell Miss Jet Set what to do.”

  “Don’t talk to me like that,” she hissed, bringing her hand up as if to deliver a slap.

  He caught it. “Touchy, aren’t we? Let’s call a truce before we all pile back inside that truck cab or things could get dangerous.”

  Iris flounced away, wafting a trail of heady perfume in her wake. She climbed into the truck and slammed the door, sliding into the position that would be beside Eric. Wow. Destiny could barely believe her eyes, or ears.

  Before she could digest it further, Eric walked up to her perch and pressed against her legs. Placing a hand on either side of her, he gazed into her eyes impassively. “Did you get your pictures?”

  Destiny was so conscious of his nearness that momentarily she couldn’t find her voice. “Yes,” she finally squeaked, and cleared her throat. “It’s very beautiful here. I took your, and Martin’s, picture.”

  “Too bad about the camera. It’s probably broken, after taking our picture with it.”

  “I’ll file a warranty claim.” She couldn’t seem to muster any power behind her breathless voice.

  He bounced against her twice, very lightly, then lifted her off the rock. With his big hand firmly on her back, he guided her to his side of the truck and leveled a stare at Iris. “Move over.” His voice sounded calm, but there was no mistaking what he said. Iris’s mouth tightened, but she simply had no choice but to comply with his request.

  Destiny replaced her camera and got in, followed by Eric. She could almost feel Iris shrinking from her. Martin glanced over, and though his face held its usual aloofness, a definite twinkle lit those green-gold eyes. Destiny gave him a tiny half-smile and turned away. Instead of providing answers, the scene she witnessed only created more questions.

  They rode in silence most of the way back to Las Nubes. Then, just before reaching town, a black and silver Escalade roared up behind them. Since Eric’s speed had slowed due to the load in back, all the passengers turned to see just who had rushed up to tailgate. Eric flashed a dark scowl into the rearview mirror but said nothing. Just then, on a blind curve, the Escalade whipped out and passed.

  “Lunatic,” Eric growled, slowing even more. “Get us all killed.”

  As they rounded the curve, they saw the Escalade turn into Miles Jard’s drive.

  “That stupid idiot,” Iris snapped. “Couldn’t wait to pass, and then turns. He gives me the creeps anyway.”

  “Who?” Martin asked.

  “Miles Jard, that’s who. Brr. And his trained gorilla. Can you believe Miles Jard asked me for a date?”

  “Did you go?” Martin inquired innocently.

  “Of course not, even though I was a little afraid to turn him down. But I was more afraid to accept, so I told him that I wasn’t dating. At least he had the mercy to drop it and not keep after me.” Iris shuddered, as if the memory of the invitation chilled her yet, and continued. “He certainly has unsavory visitors. There’s a particular place from the highway that you can see his house, and one day a truck load of guys drove up there, and really! You’ve never seen such characters!” She ignored Destiny to target Eric. “You know h
im, don’t you?”

  “No, nor do I want to,” Eric replied, tight-lipped, puzzling Destiny. His reaction seemed strange and unsettling. She hated her suspicious side, instinctive to her trade.

  “I wonder what he does,” Iris speculated. “I mean, he lives in that fancy adobe house way up there on the hill, drives that big expensive Caddy Escalade, has a bunch of goons working for him, yet he doesn’t do anything.”

  Eric gave her a deadly glare. “May I point out that you don’t do anything either, and you have a big fancy condo to stay in here.” He turned his eyes back to the road. “Find something else to talk about. What Jard does is none of your business.”

  His tone of voice drew Destiny’s attention. Hard, grim lines creased his face and a muscle jumped in his jaw. Why would the mention of Miles Jard make him so angry? Destiny felt sure she knew the answer to Iris’s question about what Jard did. She remembered the black and silver Escalade at the airstrip, and Jard and Stoker there with some of the unsavory characters Iris mentioned. The photos she’d taken of those interesting scenes were safely in the hands of her editor now.

  All this made her realize she hadn’t been doing her job lately. She’d been concentrating on her feelings and relationship with Eric to the near exclusion of her investigative reporting on Mr. Miles Jard and his creepy buddies. Well, that must change. She had to get out alone more. Lately, so many things conspired to keep her close to Eric, and since that was exactly where she wanted to be, she found it too easy to give in to circumstances.

  They reached the convenience store, where Iris had left her car. Eric drove up beside it and didn’t even turn off the engine.

  “So long, Iris,” he said, still in that level voice. He stared straight ahead, lips clamped together. Destiny wondered if he was as relieved to see Iris go as she felt. Even Iris looked more than ready to end the road trip. Her perfect makeup and hair wasn’t so perfect, anymore. Face fiery red as her mood, Iris nudged Martin as he opened the door.

  Martin got out, allowing Iris to flounce from the truck. “Thanks for a wonderful time.” Sarcasm dripped from every word. As though on second thought, she stopped, her eyes flashing a mysterious message at Martin. “Bye,” she added, almost shyly.

  “Take care.” Martin favored her with his dazzling smile. He barely made it back into the truck before Eric drove off. “What a cozy little trip.”

  “The truck cab isn’t meant to carry four people.” Warning notes rang in Eric’s voice. “I risked a ticket driving into the city like that.”

  “Risked more than a ticket, I’m thinking,” Martin offered mildly.

  Eric made a comment in Spanish and Martin held up a hand in surrender. Destiny remained silent. But she wished she understood Spanish.

  Domingo stood waiting for them when they drove up. He needed help with something and had Pinto saddled, so Eric swung up on the big paint’s back.

  “Unload the truck,” Eric called out over his shoulder. Martin shook his head and Eric rode away chuckling.

  “Is he serious?” Destiny eyed all the material in the pickup bed.

  “Nah. Come on, sugar. Let’s get some lemonade. I’m dying of thirst.”

  They carried their lemonade to the porch and sat down to enjoy it in the cool shade. Estrella joined them for a little while and chatted about the birthday lunch. When Martin informed her Iris had accompanied them, her eyes widened and her brows rose, though she didn’t comment. She finished her drink and went back inside. As Destiny primed to question Martin about the day’s fascinating events, a Jeep roared over the rise. The dogs had gone with Eric and Domingo, making it unnecessary to rescue the visitor, who turned out to be Glen King.

  “Afternoon.” He stepped from the Jeep and glanced around.

  Martin stood. “Howdy. Can we help you?”

  “Eric here?”

  “Not right now. Can I give him a message?”

  “No, I . . . just . . .”

  “Aren’t you Glen King?” Destiny asked, cutting off his stammers.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He turned to her, his gaze seeming to record her for future reference. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, Miss.”

  “Destiny Winston. And this is Eric’s brother, Martin.”

  “Pleased to meet you both. Well, I guess—”

  The dogs came running up barking. “Be quiet and lie down,” Martin commanded. “Eric won’t be far behind. Yep, here he comes now.”

  Eric and Domingo rode up. Eric dismounted and Domingo took Pinto’s reins and continued around back.

  “Howdy, Glen,” Eric said. “What’s up?”

  “I got your message.”

  “Come on.” They started toward the cottonwood. “Y’all excuse us,” Eric called over his shoulder as they walked off.

  Silently, Destiny slipped through the screen door and darted to her room. She grabbed her digital recorder and headed for the kitchen window. Pressing the ‘record’ button, she placed it upon the deep windowsill.

  Estrella was in the washhouse doing laundry and had the generator running for the washer and dryer. Destiny could hear the men’s voices, but the dull roar of the generator effectively blurred their words. She knew the sensitive recorder would pick up the conversation. They weren’t being very discrete, lulled by the generator’s noise. Somehow it made her feel cheap and sneaky doing this, but she couldn’t resist. She kept a guilty watch out the back door to make sure Estrella or Domingo didn’t come in, and checked over her shoulder for Martin, but her spying remained undisturbed.

  Eric stood beneath the slim cottonwood that played leafy shadows across his face. “You shouldn’t have come here.” He tucked a thumb over his belt buckle, clenching and unclenching his other hand in agitation. The heel of his left boot scuffed back and forth, making a trench in the rocky ground. He wished it were deep enough to crawl into. Or better yet, to dump a few others into it. Yeah. Much better.

  “Hey, that message you left me didn’t mince words. I thought I’d better see what’s going on.” For a moment, Glen watched the trenching.

  “I want out.”

  “That’s impossible. You’ll get yourself killed. Get me killed, too. I’m sorry I involved you, but you have to go through with it now.”

  Eric stared at the dusty toes of his boots. “No.”

  “I’m telling you, there’s no way out.” Glen’s voice dropped and he scanned the area as if they might be ambushed at any moment.

  “I’m concerned about Destiny,” Eric said.

  “The best way to protect her is to get her away from here until we score.”

  “What do you suggest I do? Kick her out? Run her out of New Mexico?”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “Get real, Glen. How much longer?”

  “The first goes down day after tomorrow. The goods are at the shack by the strip, even as we speak.”

  “Then it’ll be over.”

  “Negative. That’s just the beginning of the end. Hang in there, buddy. It won’t be long.”

  “It’d better not be. Things are getting complicated.”

  Just then Pinto, sans his saddle and bridle, came around the side of the house and nudged Eric.

  “What’re you doing here?” Eric patted the horse. “Domingo’s got your supper. You’d better hurry before Diablo eats it.”

  Pinto snuffled and shook his head, as though he understood every word, and trotted back to the barn, tossing his mane.

  Glen chuckled. “Tonto and his wonder horse.”

  Eric shrugged his broad shoulders. “Too bad you’re not the Lone Ranger, friend.” Tension eased for a moment and his eyes crinkled with a smile at his old army buddy. “I could scalp you, Glen.”

  “I deserve it for involving you in this mess.”

&nb
sp; Destiny could tell by their movements and tone of voice that they were concluding the conversation, so she dashed back to her room and put away the recorder. She was back on the porch by the time they walked up. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure they could see her blouse flutter. She felt as if she wore a sign around her neck proclaiming, Spy!

  All evening she felt jumpy and guilty, like Eric could read her mind and would know what she’d done. The impulse had driven her to act quickly, almost instinctively. Why had she done it? Because she knew she must hear what they’d said. All her ugly suspicions rose up again. Why did things have to be so complicated? The idea that Eric would have anything to do with a smuggling operation was ridiculous. Or was it? Just what did she know about Eric George Montoya? His smile, his handsome face, his wonderful build? That rich deep voice, those powerful hands, all these things sent her senses reeling, but none of them canceled the possibility that he might do something illegal.

  Just like nothing made it impossible for what Iris had said to be true. Maybe things were exactly as she claimed. Once they’d been important to each other, then for whatever reasons they parted which had hurt Eric, and now he was punishing Iris but still loved her.

  Everything inside Destiny screamed denial at that. She sensed a caring in him that she didn’t think was faked. She studied him, sitting on the couch reading a ranch journal by the light of a kerosene lamp. His long legs stretched out so he could rest his booted feet on the corner of the coffee table.

  Martin sat on the opposite couch, also reading by the light of a lamp. He’d kicked his boots off and had his legs jack-knifed to prop his magazine.

  She was curled at the other end of the couch from Eric, doodling in her notebook, trying to outline an article she’d promised, not wanting to deplete the battery in her laptop without a nearby way to charge it.

  She kept sneaking glances at Eric. It was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms and beg him to tell her that none of the horrible things clogging her mind were true. There were no smugglers, he did not love Iris—