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“I’ve claimed you as my woman, and as long as you stay close to me, they’ll respect that. They won’t like it and they’ll want to kill me as well, but they will respect it. ¿Comprendes?” She stared at him, shaking for all she was worth. “I won’t let them touch you, but you must do exactly as I say.” He gripped her face between his long fingers, and stared into her eyes. “If I tell you to jump, you’ll do it. If I tell you to be quiet, you will be. If I tell you to touch me, or bare your breasts for me, or touch yourself for me, you’ll do that, too. Do you understand?” She stared at him in defiance, her mind rebelling at what he was saying, but her body oddly tingling at the same time. “Do—you—understand?” he growled, his hand squeezing harder. She nodded. His mouth came down onto hers, scorching and demanding, and she was certain in that instant he was, indeed, the devil, and she'd just made a pact with him…
ALSO BY M. L. RHODES After Hours Heat Masks Night Shadows, Book I: Night Shadows Night Shadows, Book II: Jonesing One Enchanted Evening The Bodyguard The Bounty Hunter Well Hung Writing as Karin Story Where Tigers Prowl
TAKE IT ON FAITH BY M. L. RHODES
AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com
TAKE IT ON FAITH AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2006 by M. L. Rhodes ISBN 1-59279-515-3 Cover Art © 2006 Trace Edward Zaber
Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
This one’s for you, M! With all my love.
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CHAPTER 1
“Hey, Julio! ¿Quién es la cocha, eh?” A huge, bearded, sweaty Mexican pushed his way through the crowd and bellied up to the bar…literally. His bulk half-crushed Elizabeth Sandringham where she sat on a stool, and his body odor made a walk through Milton's fish and bait shop on the harbor back home in Boston seem like a perfume factory. Elizabeth nursed her margarita and concentrated hard on the chinks in the dark wood surface of the bar. She didn't know who Julio was, or what a cocha might be, but she felt Beefy-man’s eyes on her. And that gave her a bad feeling he was talking about her. The taxi driver had dropped her off in this tiny town, El Piojo, saying it was as far from Acapulco as he could take her. Within moments of his departure, however, the hurt and anger that had driven Elizabeth this far began to wane as sheer physical and emotional exhaustion took over. 1
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Damn Lionel Thorndale. Two nights before their wedding, and he’d decided now was the time to confess he’d never be able to find satisfaction with her alone. How could he ever have thought she’d…that she’d…? A shudder wracked her shoulders, and was followed by a sick ache in her heart and another in the pit of her stomach. Almost more painful than Lionel’s revelation tonight was the fact she’d been so clueless. She’d always considered herself a smart, down-to-earth person. Clearly not smart enough. She felt stupid and used. And now, far away from Lionel, with her emotional shield tattering around her like shredded paper, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and cry over the miserable farce their relationship had been. She'd hoped to find a motel where she could stay until morning, but El Piojo was nothing more than a blip in the road. The best they had was a bar. So she’d called for transportation back to Acapulco, and decided to have a drink while she waited. Once there, she’d get a room for the night and catch the first plane back to the States in the morning. However…at the moment, with the beefy man’s BO clouding her senses, she decided getting something to drink hadn’t been such a great decision. A woman, alone in a dinky Mexican town, and what did she do? She walked into the sleaze bar from hell. “She’s a pretty one, eh?” said the bartender, glancing at her. “But too good for the likes of you, Ramirez.” No, I definitely shouldn’t be here. She tipped up her glass, drained the last of the margarita, and laid a couple of fifty-peso bills on the bar. But as she tried to rise off the stool to make a quick exit, a meaty hand clutched her shoulder and pushed her back down. “Get her another one of her fancy drinks, Julio. Put it on my tab,” Beefy-man said. “Thanks, but I have to go,” she mumbled, trying to pull away. He laughed, his breath a cross between dragon excrement and 2
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uncooked foie gras. “But I want you to stay.” Elizabeth’s heart pounded. “No, really. I’m going to go now.” He just laughed again as the bartender set another glass in front of her. His hand was a vise on her shoulder. “Drink up, conejito. I insist!” “I-I can’t. My fiancé’s going to be looking for me.” She winced as she said it because it could be true. And Lionel was the last person she wanted to lay eyes on. Still, he made for a good excuse in this situation. “I, uh, expect him to pick me up any minute.” She forced a smile she hoped was convincing on her face. A new presence moved in behind her, a solid wall of flesh. With a swish, a cold metal blade pressed against her neck. “Ramirez says he wants you to stay, puta. I want you to stay, too,” said a voice behind and just above her head. A voice that had the consistency and tone of gritty desert sand. Elizabeth swallowed hard and tried to keep her heart from beating her to death. She had no idea who was behind her, and was too terrified to look. “Let the girlie go,” the bartender said, wiping the counter with a rag in front of her. “She's too sweet and americano for you boys.” Ramirez laughed. “Just the way I like them. Sweet mouths to suck my dick. Sweet cunts to stuff full.” The bartender shrugged and walked away, while Beefy-man dropped a meaty hand on her thigh and squeezed. “What do you think, conejito? You have room inside for la reata grande?” He cupped his cock through his grimy black pants and rubbed it against her arm. Bile burned in Elizabeth’s throat, but the knife against her neck kept her from wrenching away. Her evening with Lionel was looking like a cake walk right now. A loud bang echoed through the room, and, almost like it was happening in slow motion, a chunk of wood from the bar directly next to Elizabeth flew through the air. She jumped, and felt the sting of the 3
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blade bite through her skin on the side of her neck. But before she could sort out what was going on, the bar erupted in chaos. People climbed over one another, screaming, running, crashing into tables. Ramirez moved like lightning for someone so huge and, before she could swallow, he held a gun in each hand, blocking her view of the door. Oh, God. I don't want to die. More shots were fired. She was thrown to the ground by the beast behind her, and she finally got a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye as she struck the floor. Bald head, dark goatee, leather vest over a bare chest that sported some kind of tattoo. He, too, held a gun. Something big and scary. “Stay down, puta!” the bald one hissed. He kicked her, his booted foot connecting with her ribs, as he let loose a spitting round of gunfire. Elizabeth clutched a hand to her chest. Tears welled in her eyes, but another blast of gunfire next to her jolted her into motion. Amidst the screams and crashing of glass and tables, she crawled on her hands and knees and tried to keep from getting stepped on and squashed by the stampede. Keep moving, keep moving. Loud shouts in guttural Spanish clashed with gunfire. The two men who’d cornered her stood side by side, spraying bullets at the door. The bartender had disappeared. Broken glass gouged into her hands, and her unruly dark hair, pulled loose from its ponytail, straggled into her face and eyes. Panting, she forced herself to move around to the end of the bar. She huddled behind it, hoping no one would notice her. The crackle of glass above her caused her to glance up. The moment she realized what was happening, she threw her arms over her head to protect herself as the whole wall of shelves behind the bar that held dozens of bottles and glasses, crashed on top of and around her. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was seeing the 4
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slow spread of red wine on the wood floor…like a vivid puddle of blood reaching toward her. *
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Elizabeth came around to the feel of something hot and painful on her breasts. Something that…ow! Something that pinched. She swatted the offender away and pried her eyelids open. But she snapped them closed again when everything around her swam. Grating laughter rumbled nearby, causing pain to shoot through her skull. Or maybe the pain was already there and the laughter made it worse. Then she suddenly remembered where she’d been when she’d blacked out. Oh, no! She jerked to a sitting position, but had to drop her head to her drawn-up knees because the shooting pain in her skull was so unbearable. More laughter. “Eh, conejito, did you drink too much tequila?” She was lifted into a broad, odiferous lap. When she opened her eyes once more, she winced against the glare of light. “Ah, our little rabbit is coming around,” Beefy-man bellowed. He squeezed her breast. Cold fear shot through Elizabeth as she blinked up into his jowly face. What had happened? Where was she? She glanced around, as best she could anyway caught in Ramirez's fleshy embrace, and tried to keep the room from swirling too fast. This definitely wasn’t the bar. It looked like someone’s house— such as it was. The furniture was battered and ratty, filth and trash cluttered the floor, the thin panel walls were stained with God knows what, and the stench of stale beer, cigarettes, and urine battled with Beefy-man’s body odor. She gagged. 5
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“Hola, conejito,” Ramirez breathed into her face. “Where—Where am I?” she asked, afraid of the answer. “Welcome to our happy home.” A yellow-toothed grin split his face under his bushy mustache. “Now that you are awake, we can finish where we left off when we were interrupted by Galista’s men.” His hand closed over her breast again, and she caught her breath as he gave it another vigorous squeeze. “Don’t touch me!” “But you want it, little rabbit. Women love Ramirez.” He leaned her back in his arm, laughed, and groped her again until she was certain her breast would pop. Then he moved his hand lower, cupping her between the legs. She struggled and wiggled and clamped her knees together, but her head hurt and her actions proved futile. “You like to fight, eh?” Ramirez grinned. “More fun for me.” Suddenly, her legs were spread so far apart she cried out in pain. The creepy, goateed, bald guy in the vest stood between her thighs. He took one last drag of a cigarette and tossed it aside. His eyes were emotionless black slits…like something out of the worst nightmare in the darkest hour of the night. “Mine!” Beefy-man snarled, shoving the bald man in the chest. The bald one’s expression never changed as he glared at Ramirez. But he drew a nasty-looking knife from his vest. A graveyard chill crept over Elizabeth. Jesus, they were going to rape her and kill her. There was no doubt in her mind. In a deft move, the bald man slit her shirt open from hem to neckline. Her bra fell open a split second later. Caught in Ramirez’s grasp, she was powerless to do anything. She stared wide-eyed at the demon in front of her, realizing what he could do to her with that knife if he felt the urge. Ramirez pulled out a gun with astounding speed and aimed directly 6
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at the other man’s heart. “I said she is mine, Christo!” The demon’s unfathomable gaze slid smoothly from studying her bare breasts to meet Ramirez’s heated glare. “Back away,” Ramirez ordered, his finger flexing over the trigger. Elizabeth stared, transfixed, at the long metal barrel of the gun poised only a few inches above her. Her heart raced like a ticking bomb. Christo’s gaze returned to her, and she saw death in the bottomless pits of his eyes. His tongue forked out of his mouth, twitching in a lewd gesture. “You play now, fat man,” he said in a voice as dead and cold as his eyes. “But when you’re done, I will take what is mine.” “You’ll die first.” Ramirez jerked her with him as he lumbered to his feet, his arm locked around her waist in a grip so tight she couldn't breathe. With his free hand, he pressed his gun into Christo’s chest. A shot echoed. Elizabeth screamed and struggled to free herself from Ramirez’s grip before Christo could shoot back and hit her. “Put the woman down!” The command boomed through the room. Ramirez turned, still clutching her under his arm like a rag doll. “Now!” the new, steely, deep voice ordered with such raw authority Elizabeth glanced up, startled. The devil himself had entered the room—a tall, imposing figure, dressed all in black. He held a gun in his hand pointed at the ceiling. He was the one who’d fired the shot? A glance up at the stained plaster showed his wasn’t the first to have been fired in this room. “You will tell me what’s going on.” He lowered his weapon. It hung casually at his side, but he had a wiry strength, like a panther, and Elizabeth felt certain he could aim and fire again before she could even blink. His very presence commanded attention. His glossy, dark brown, shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a ponytail. His face was a 7
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study in lean sculpture and raw sensuality. Sinewy muscles bulged beneath his black T-shirt. A solid chest tapered down to a narrow waist, and he was one of those men you just knew had a rippling six-pack under his shirt. He was clad in black jeans and black cowboy boots. And his eyes…where Christo’s were terrifyingly empty and cold, this man’s, equally dark, shot sparks of fire. “I found her at La Tortuga,” Ramirez said, shifting her against him so her breasts protruded over his arm. “She was mine before Galista’s men shot up the place.” The man in black narrowed his gaze, then stared over Ramirez’s shoulder at Christo. “And you? What’s your story?” “I will take what is mine,” Christo’s soulless voice said. “I’m not anyone’s!” Elizabeth cried. Her stomach knotted at her foolish attempt at bravery, but before she succumbed to fear once more, she managed to add, “When the police find me, you’re all going to jail!” Ramirez laughed. Christo’s cold expression never changed. The man in black’s gaze flashed over her. “I will not have a woman causing dissention among my men. Release her. Now.” Ramirez swore in Spanish, but he dropped her onto the filthy, yellow linoleum floor like a sack of potatoes. Her left arm and shoulder took the brunt of the blow, and pain surged through her with a vengeance. She curled into a ball, trying to breathe through it. “She belongs to me—” “No more,” the man in black snapped, cutting off Ramirez's words. “Anything brought into esta casa is mine.” “I found her!” A sharp slap echoed through the room. There was a scuffle, then a threatening growl. “Do not even move for your weapon.” It was the man in black’s voice, low, deadly. “If you do, I’ll shoot, and you will not be much of a 8
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man to any woman.” Elizabeth dared a glance at the men. Even though he’d been ten feet away from Ramirez just a moment ago, the man in black was now inches from the beefy man, and held his wicked-looking black gun pressed against Ramirez’s family jewels. “Don’t think for a minute that I won’t do it,” the man in black said, his voice dangerously soft. Ramirez’s eyes narrowed into a hateful gleam, but his breathing labored in his chest. Elizabeth could feel his fear. If she hadn’t been so terrified herself, she probably would have smirked to see the big guy suffer. Ramirez glared at the other man, but he finally nodded. “Wise decision.” The man in black slid his gun into the shoulder holster he wore. “Let it be known that from now on, as is my right as leader, esta mujer es la mía.” He took a step back, wrapped a firm hand around Elizabeth’s upper arm, and dragged her to her feet. “No one else will touch her.” He jerked Elizabeth against his chest, which smelled clean and magnificently male after the assault to her senses from Ramirez, and dropped his mouth onto hers in a hard, invasive kiss. When he pulled back, her legs shook. “My woman. Understand?” he demanded of his men in a voice that sent a shiver up her spine. Christo banged open the front door and disappeared into the night. Ramirez grumbled, staring first at her, then at his leader. Finally he, too, lumbered toward the door. But he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. A smarmy grin lit his face. “He will never fill your bed and body the way I can, little rabbit.” He fondled the bulge in his pants as he spoke. “When you get tired of him, you come to Ramirez. I will make you scream with pleasure.” Elizabeth's legs gave out as Ramirez’s rumbling laugh boomed in 9
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her ears, but the man in black’s iron arms held her steady. When the door slammed, she was bodily picked up in those welldefined arms. Her head lolled against her captor’s shoulder, his warm, woody scent wafted around her, and long legs strode through the house, carrying her to meet her fate. *
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She must have passed out again because the next thing Elizabeth felt was something cool on her forehead, and she thought she heard words of comfort whispered in her ear. She relaxed, feeling a soft mattress beneath her, and decided she must have been dreaming the whole nightmare. Thank God. Then needle-sharp pain shot through her palm. Her eyes snapped open and she jerked her hand back, cradling it to her chest. So much for the dream theory. The man in black sat in a chair next to her, his dark eyes unreadable, his forehead creased with lines, his lips turned downward in a tight frown. He appeared as immovable as a dark cliff of basalt. He drew her hand back toward him with a firm tug. “You have glass in your hands. If we don’t get these slivers out, the cuts will become infected.” His voice was low but forceful, and didn’t seem as accented as it had in the other room when he’d confronted his men. She couldn’t decide if the sound scared the holy crap out of her or if she was beyond caring at this point. At least he wasn’t raping her. Yet. Her hands did hurt, and she remembered, in a Technicolor flashback, crawling across the floor in the bar with shattered glass everywhere. Her jeans had probably protected her knees, but her hands were a different story. “Lie still. This isn’t going to be pleasant,” he informed her as he bent over her hand with a pair of tweezers and began digging around in her raw palm. 10
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“Ow! Stop it!” She tried to pull her hand back again, but this time he didn’t let go. Pain coursed through her; every muscle, bone, and inch of skin on her body hurt. “Please…stop,” she cried. He set her hand down on the bed and rummaged on the table next to him. Then he cradled her head on one arm and held a bottle to her mouth. “Drink,” he commanded. She closed her lips tight and shook her head. “I didn’t give you a choice. Do it.” He pried her lips apart with the edge of the bottle and proceeded to pour something nasty and strong into her. It tasted like gasoline and burned like fire. Coughing and choking, she sputtered and squirmed as half of it ran down her chin. But he kept at it until, whether she liked it or not, she’d swallowed several mouthfuls of it. The liquor hit her empty stomach like a hot lava rock. He let go of her and her head bounced off the pillow. She glared at him, willing him to suffer a long, agonizing death. But he merely began digging again. By the time he’d finished with one hand and started on the other, tears poured out of her eyes like a fountain, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a little ball and die. What kind of a man was this? He’d nearly killed to take her, he’d branded her in front of the other men—she certainly couldn’t call what he’d done out there a kiss—then he’d hauled her away to the bedroom. Yet here he sat, picking glass out of her hands. Why hadn’t he just raped her and left her to rot? Or maybe this was some perverted form of torture. Maybe he was one of those sickos who enjoyed inflicting pain. Her heart stuttered at the thought. “There. Finished.” She stared up at him, surprised. The second hand hadn’t hurt nearly as much. Of course, her whole body felt weightless and limp, and her head swam. Jesus…she was drunk. 11
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A wave of panic hit her. Now he’d rape her. He’d gotten her drunk so she couldn’t fight back, then he could do whatever he wanted to her and she’d be powerless to stop him. She braced herself for his assault. But instead he wound soft white bandages around her hands and dabbed at a sore spot on her neck—probably where Christo’s knife had nicked her in the bar. He replaced the cool, damp cloth on her forehead, leaned back in the wooden chair, and watched her. She stared at him, trying to keep him in focus as her head spun in dizzy circles. Was he toying with her? “You’re American.” It was a statement, not a question. She nodded. “¿Cómo te llamas?” “I don’t speak Spanish.” “What’s your name?” “Elizabeth,” she whispered. “Well, Elizabeth, as I’m sure you’re aware, you’re in a heap of trouble.” His dark eyes burned into her from under his equally dark brows. His long, tanned fingers strummed on the arms of the chair. “I…I…they kidnapped me from the bar. You won’t get away with this!” In a fit of sheer bravado, she threw off the covers and attempted to swing her legs over the bed. But her head pounded like a cannon, and the room wouldn’t hold still for her. She got sidetracked at the sight of the white T-shirt she wore that definitely was not hers, and noticed the legs sticking out from the covers were bare. Oh, Lord, he’d taken off her jeans. What else had he done to her while she’d been passed out? The hard wall of him loomed in front of her. With a muttered oath in Spanish, he pressed her back onto the bed. “Let me lay out your situation for you.” He leaned down until he 12
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was inches from her face. His eyes, a rich velvet brown, narrowed into mere slits. His breath, like the rest of him, was warm and clean. “My men would like nothing better than to use your body in ways a nice woman like you couldn’t begin to fathom. And when they finished with you, they would dump you in a pit in the ground like yesterday’s garbage. No one would find your remains. If you so much as set a foot outside that door”—he pointed to the wooden portal that sealed her off from the nightmare of Ramirez and Christo—“they’ll rape you and you’ll wish for death.” The trembling began again, starting with her awkward, bandaged hands and spreading out into her arms and legs. “I’ve claimed you as my woman, and as long as you stay close to me, they’ll respect that. They won’t like it and they’ll want to kill me as well, but they will respect it. ¿Comprendes?” She stared at him, shaking for all she was worth. “I won’t let them touch you, but you must do exactly as I say.” He gripped her face between his long fingers, and stared into her eyes. “If I tell you to jump, you’ll do it. If I tell you to be quiet, you will be. If I tell you to touch me, or bare your breasts for me, or touch yourself for me, you’ll do that, too. Do you understand?” She stared at him in defiance, her mind rebelling at what he was saying, but her body oddly tingling at the same time. “Do—you—understand?” he growled, his hand squeezing harder. She nodded. His mouth came down onto hers, scorching and demanding, and she was certain in that instant he was, indeed, the devil, and she'd just made a pact with him. But then his assault turned from hard to hungry. His tongue flicked out to trace her lower lip, sensuously teased her mouth open, and sought entry. A jolt of unbridled electricity shot through her when his tongue met hers, twisting and seducing her in a primitive dance. And she found 13
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herself, to her horror, ensnared by the passion of it. This was nothing like Lionel’s cool, sophisticated kisses. This man tasted like unadulterated sex and danger—things that should have terrified her. Yet she moaned into his mouth, and her weightless, inebriated body arched upward of its own free will, seeking his touch. Which he gave, sliding a hand under her almost-bare fanny and lifting her until her silk panty-covered mound pressed against the granite in the crotch of his jeans. A sudden vision filled her head of what his cock would look like— long, ribbed with veins, impossibly stiff, and eager to fill her, stretch her, fuck her. She groaned. He pulled his mouth off hers and lowered her back to the bed, and she blinked up at him, reeling and confused at her own reaction. But he paused an inch or so above her mouth and whispered in a husky tone, “I won’t let them touch you.” Then he rose, towering over her, remote and unreadable. “Get some sleep.” He returned to the wooden chair next to the bed, and switched off the dim light with a flick of his long fingers. Elizabeth stared into the darkness, trying to see the imposing figure she felt sitting a few feet away. Trying to gather her steamrolled emotions and thoughts into something coherent. Trying to figure out what had just happened…what wild, physical reaction she’d just experienced. She didn’t know if this man was her executioner or her savior. Or maybe both. Her last thought before drunken oblivion claimed her was that she didn’t even know his name. *
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Miguel Delgado stared at the sleeping woman in his bed. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he watched her eyelashes flickering 14
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as she dreamed, saw her chest, clothed in one of his T-shirts, rise and fall rapidly, and remembered all too well what the sight of those breasts had done to his insides. He’d gotten her out of her torn shirt and into one of his as quickly as he could to avoid temptation. But clearly it hadn’t worked. He hissed in a deep breath and did his damnedest to will away his aching erection. What in the name of hell was he going to do with her? With her wavy, dark-chestnut-brown hair, her big, innocent blue eyes, and even underneath her obvious terror, a sassy attitude, he knew keeping her here was going to be trouble. He rubbed his eyes between thumb and forefinger. As if he didn’t have enough to deal with stuck in this hell hole. He’d spent the past three months working his way into a position he hoped would earn him an “in” with Galista’s organization, and had thought things were progressing well…until now. He couldn’t figure why Galista’s crew would have waged a completely unprovoked attack on his men tonight. What was the meaning behind that? Unless…unless Galista was beginning to suspect he was after more than one of the coveted cartel heroine contracts. That would be bad. Very bad. He had to get to the bottom of this and make sure his position was secure. But with Ramirez and Christo being completely unpredictable, it wasn’t going to be easy. Their loyalty to him was suspect anyway, and now he’d had to draw an invisible line in the sand between himself and them because of this unexpected complication. His eyes narrowed as he studied the woman again. She was so obviously pampered, white-bread American it almost hurt to look at her. Elizabeth. Even her name sounded pampered. She looked young— probably in her twenties. What was someone like her doing alone in La Tortuga bar? She either had to be incredibly stupid or incredibly lost. In either case, he was now stuck with her. 15
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He sure as hell didn’t want her or need her, yet he couldn’t set her free right now because that would appear to his men to be an act of weakness at a time when he needed more than ever for them to believe in him. Not to mention the fact that Ramirez or, worse, Christo would hunt her down and take what he wanted from her. And that was the last thing Miguel needed on his conscience. He’d seen their handiwork before. She sighed and rolled onto her side facing him, resting her head on her hand. He spied the raw, red mark around her wrist and scowled. He knew she had a matching one on the other wrist as well—he’d seen them when he’d cleaned and bandaged her hands. Had Ramirez or Christo tied her up when they brought her to the house? When she sighed again, he tucked the blanket up under her chin. She had a pert nose and sexy, bow-shaped lips. Desire, thick as magma, surged through him again at how she’d arched toward him, at the little moaning sounds that had fluttered out of her throat in the heat of the kiss. He straightened in the chair and let out a string of swear words under his breath. He was too old to be thinking lustful thoughts about a girl like this, especially one he'd gotten drunk. Especially one whose silk underwear screamed money. He had no use for the wealthy, with their power trips and game playing. And he'd fallen victim to big, innocent eyes like hers before. He knew firsthand looks could be deceiving…and deadly. Here, in this armpit of the underworld, he trusted no one. She cried out in her sleep and held her hands up as if to fend someone off. “Please, no…” Her soft, desperate voice was like a hot knife slicing through his resolve. Instinctively, Miguel moved to the bed and smoothed her thick hair off her damp forehead. When she cried out again, he drew her up 16
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against him, whispering soft words near her cheek. Just for tonight, he told himself. Tomorrow he'd make it clear what he expected of her. She'd follow his instructions to the letter with no arguments. If she wanted to get out of this alive.
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CHAPTER 2
Elizabeth awoke to the sound of gunshots. Lurching up in the bed, she clutched the covers around her, slid off onto the floor, and huddled next to the bed, hoping it would offer some protection. But a quick glance around showed she was alone in the room and no one was shooting at her. More gunfire rattled through the air, then she heard muffled laughter. With a sigh of relief, she realized it was happening outside. I’m alone! The sudden thought spurred her into action. She found her jeans at the foot of the bed and dragged them on with difficulty—the bandages on her hands presented a challenge. Her sandals sat on the peeling vinyl floor nearby and she slid her feet into them. Her own shirt had been ruined last night, so there was no choice but to wear the white tee. She ran to the door, rested her ear against the wood, and, hearing 18
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nothing, clutched the knob. Dragging in a deep breath to fortify her courage, she tried to twist it. Again the bandages got in the way and her hand slid on the metal. But finally she managed to jiggle it back and forth. Locked. Her heart sank. It had been foolish to think she could just walk out. Still not ready to give up yet, though, she crossed the room to the lone window. Heavy green drapes covered it. When she pushed them aside, even the sunlight pouring through the dirty glass couldn’t ease the frustration of finding black iron bars blocking her way. “Damn it!” The sight from the window wasn’t encouraging either. There were no other buildings to be seen, unless you counted a shack that stood fifty yards from the house. A small clump of scraggly trees huddled near it. And other than that, all she could see was a monotonous view of heat-withered yellow grass. Obviously they were no longer in the little town with the bar. The twinge in her bladder brought her back to immediate requirements. She had a foggy memory of seeing the man in black emerge from another doorway near the bed last night with a damp cloth. She could see the glint of white porcelain just beyond the sagging door. Thank God. Maybe there was another window in there…or something she could use to free herself. The bathroom, small and hard-used though it was, with its chipped and rusting white sink, commode, and yellowed bathtub, was clean. The subtle woody scent she’d smelled on the man last night lingered in the air. At least that was one thing she could be grateful for—the leader took a vested interest in personal hygiene and keeping his space clean, unlike his minions. She used the facilities as quickly as she could—there was no lock on the bathroom door—then did a quick search to see if there might be anything she could use as a weapon or a means of escape. Nothing 19
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presented itself. Masculine toiletries sat on the edge of the sink, but if he had a razor or even fingernail clippers, he’d removed them before she woke up. She didn’t even see the tweezers he’d used on her hands. Elizabeth crossed the bedroom once again to peer out the window. She wasn’t wearing her watch, and there wasn’t a clock in the room, so she had no idea what time it might be. Mid to late morning, she’d guess. Another gunshot startled her and she crouched below the window, her heart pounding. But once again she realized it was outside, and from the sound of it, farther away than the ones earlier had been. Oh, God. What was she going to do? From the looks of things in the bar, she’d gotten herself caught in the middle of some kind of vendetta or drug war shoot ’em up. But the worst part was that no one had any idea where she was. She’d bolted out of the hotel last night intent only on getting as far away as she could. She hadn’t taken time to leave a note for her dad and stepmother, who’d been in Acapulco for the impending wedding. She’d just wanted out. It hadn’t occurred to her that today she wouldn’t be on a plane back to the States, and by tonight be back in her apartment with a cup of tea, a hot bath, and a good book to help bury her hurt. How long would it be before her dad even realized she was missing? She had no idea if Lionel would be a big enough man to admit she’d left him, or if he’d just keep quiet and play dumb. If he did admit she’d called off the wedding, then her dad might think she’d decided to go back to the States and lay low for a few days, to nurse her broken heart or to be alone. The knot that had been in her stomach since Lionel’s revelation last night gave a particularly sick twinge. How could she not have known? How could she have spent the past five months with Lionel and not have known about his…preferences? 20
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Because you were so in love with the way he romanced you, you didn’t see anything you didn’t want to. Had she been more in love with the idea of romance than with Lionel himself? But she already knew the answer. While she’d had several relationships in the past, she’d never been truly swept away by anyone, and was beginning to wonder if she ever would be. But then she and Lionel had met at the wedding of a mutual friend. He wasn’t her type in the socio-economic sense—she preferred to stay away from the wealthy, high society guys because, when she’d moved out on her own, she’d wanted to escape that pretentious life. But Lionel had been so attentive, so sweet, he’d said and done all the right things, and even though he’d never actually made her heart pound with overwhelming love and desire, the part of her that craved romance could find no fault with him. They’d seemed so compatible. They’d liked the same music, movies, foods. Granted, their sex life had been spotty—not bad, just not frequent—because he’d just taken a job with a large law firm, and as the youngest and newest attorney on staff, he often worked the longest hours. But she’d taken it in stride as part of life. She wasn’t a total fool. She knew real life love affairs weren’t anything like the passionate, overwhelming connections she read in romance novels But nothing had prepared her for what had happened last night; she’d never seen it coming. He should have been honest with her from the start, damn it! As it was, the way she’d finally found out…the seduction, the subterfuge… Her stomach churned again. While he’d done nothing to physically harm her last night—had, in fact, probably hoped she’d be turned on by the truth—the whole thing had left her feeling dirty and betrayed. He’d used her. And that hurt worse than anything else. And now? She looked around at the little room that was her prison. Now, for 21
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some reason she couldn’t fathom, the universe had decided she hadn’t had enough shock over the past twenty-four hours, and had tossed her into this nightmare. With a shudder, she knew with a certainty if the man in black hadn’t intervened last night she’d be dead by now. Or wishing she were. But was he any better than the men he’d saved her from? He was their leader, after all. Still…he’d been gentle with her last night. Sort of. Yet he’d also said things…things about her having to touch him or herself. Anxiety trembled within her. What would she do if he actually insisted on that? A part of her rebelled at the possibility. But there was some tiny part of her, buried down deep inside, that experienced a tingle of forbidden pleasure at the thought. Good God, girl, get a grip! He’s your kidnapper! True. However, the man in black, unknown factor he was, still seemed a better alternative than anything else she might face here. Maybe if she could get on his good side… As if on cue, she heard the latch jiggle on the door, and the man himself strode in, dominating the room with his presence. He wore black jeans again, and had on a slate-gray knit shirt that clung to his lean but muscular upper body like a second skin. His brown, shoulderlength hair was loose today, giving him even more of a bad boy appearance. Elizabeth let out a soft, appreciative huff of breath without thinking, and another warm tingle shot through her. She’d forgotten since last night just what a visual impact he made. He was nothing at all like blond, pressed and polished Lionel. No, this man was beautiful in an earthy, physical, dark-and-dangerous way. He relocked the door, set a plate and Styrofoam cup on the small, scarred wooden table, then turned to her and speared her with a cold stare. 22
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Her warm tingle turned to a chilly shiver. Okay, maybe he wasn’t such a great alternative after all. He looked furious this morning. Out of instinct, she rose and backed away from him. Not that she had far to go…she was already almost against the wall. “Close the curtains,” he barked. The creases on his forehead and thin lines radiating from his mouth indicated he wasn’t in the mood for arguing or dawdling, so she pulled the curtains closed again with shaking hands. “I…I was just looking out.” “You can’t escape. Even if you got out of this room, my men would stop you before you left the yard.” “Why are you keeping me here? I want to go home.” “I would imagine you do. But your wants are the least of my concerns.” He held up something she hadn’t seen him carrying…her wallet. “Elizabeth Sandringham.” Her name was said with almost a snarl, as if the very sound of it repulsed him. “You found my purse! I thought I’d lost it in the bar.” “Oh, yes, I found it. Ramirez was going through it this morning, looking for trinkets of yours he could keep. I let him have the cash. A nice roll of U.S. bills, along with a hefty supply of pesos.” “But that’s—!” “You won’t be needing the money. However, we certainly don’t want him using your credit cards, now do we, Elizabeth? Then your wealthy family might be alerted to your whereabouts.” “You…you know who I am?” “Elizabeth Jane Sandringham. Twenty-eight years old. A resident of Boston, Massachusetts. Which would, I believe, make you the daughter of Charles Sandringham of the Sandringham hotel empire. Oh, yes. Your driver’s license was quite informative. And your family name says everything else I need to know.” Again, that bitter disgust oozed 23
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from his tone. “Weren’t you supposed to be walking down the aisle with your fiancé in your father’s fancy Acapulco hotel in a couple of days? Your fiancé is a retired U.S. senator’s son, as I recall. Quite the catch. It’s been in the newspaper. The big event of southern Mexico.” “Yes,” Elizabeth murmured. But then, trying to regain some bravado, she shot out, “All the more reason you need to let me go. It’s going to be pretty obvious to my fiancé and family that something’s happened to me when I don’t show up for my rehearsal dinner tonight.” He laughed. It was a deep, rumbling sound, but again with the bitter edge. “What rehearsal dinner would that be, Señorita Sandringham? According to this morning’s paper, you called off the wedding and deserted your sweetheart. Left him at the proverbial altar. He claims you betrayed him and ran off with another man.” A red haze of rage crept into Elizabeth’s vision. “That weasel! He knows exactly why I called off the wedding, and it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with…” She couldn’t even get the words out. “Spare me the melodrama. Whoever got into your pants and made you decide to abandon your future husband is not of interest to me.” “I didn’t—don’t have another man! He’s telling lies about me to cover—” “Silence!” His dark-eyed gaze bore into her. He flung her wallet toward her and it landed with a thunk on the scratched wooden floor a few inches from her. She knelt to retrieve it. “Get up,” he ordered. “I have some questions for you this morning, and I suggest you give me straight answers.” Elizabeth rose. He was already furious about something, and the last thing she wanted was to make him angrier. She couldn’t forget his gun pressed to Ramirez’s testicles last night—the gun that rested 24
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against his back even now—and the very real threat in his voice when he said he’d shoot. She sensed this wasn’t a man to push too hard. “Last night. Why were you in the bar?” “I went in to call for a taxi to take me back to Acapulco. I didn’t have my cell with me and needed to use the phone.” “Why did you leave Acapulco? And how is it you ended up in El Piojo?” “I…” She winced. She had no interest in sharing her evening with Lionel. “I left because I was angry at my fiancé. I wasn’t really thinking. I just got in the cab and told the driver to take me far away. That little town is where we ended up. But after he left I knew what I really needed was to get to the airport so I could go home. And the airport was in Acapulco.” “You were at the bar by yourself? You didn’t talk to anyone, weren’t meeting anyone?” “I was by myself until your men cornered me. Why are you asking me these questions?” “Let’s talk about the shooting, shall we?” He clasped his hands behind his back and paced in front her, his cowboy boots thunking on the floor. “Why would Galista’s men have an interest in killing a white woman from Massachusetts?” “No one was shooting at me specifically! And I don’t even who this Galista is. I told you, I was in the bar by chance. How am I supposed to know why someone would go postal? Ask your creepy men. Maybe they know.” “I have discussed it with my men, at length. And, in fact, Galista’s team didn’t seem to want them or anyone else in the bar…” His gaze narrowed. “Only you, Señorita Sandringham.” “Me? Have you completely lost it? I came to Mexico to get married. Why would some bad guy want me? You better talk to your men again. They were happy campers to be shooting their guns at anyone or 25
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anything that moved in that bar, so maybe those other guys were after them.” He studied her for a long minute, his face hard, thoughtful. “Did anything unusual happen to you over the past day or two?” “Besides being kidnapped and mauled by your men, you mean?” The look he gave her had her biting her tongue in regret. “Let me make this easy for you.” His voice was laced with steel. “I want you to tell me everything you’ve done, every place you’ve been, and anything out of the ordinary you might have seen over the last two days.” “What?” She looked at him in shock. “You’re joking, right?” His cold stare was his only response. “I was getting ready for a wedding. We had family flying in. I was a lot of places.” “Such as…and start at the beginning, please.” With a sigh she sank to the floor. “This is ridiculous.” “You woke up day before yesterday and…?” Elizabeth rubbed her eyes. “Fine, I’ll play along. I woke up day before yesterday and…” She squinted as she tried to recall what she’d done. “…I ordered room service. After that, I showered, dressed, and went down to the restaurant and met with the catering team about the wedding reception. Then Lionel and I went to the airport to pick up his cousins from New Jersey. We took them to lunch back at the hotel.” “And in the afternoon?” “Lionel had to call his office, so I went swimming in the hotel pool, then my step-mother made me go shopping with her. Don’t expect me to tell you the stores we went into because I wouldn’t even know where to start—she’s a nightmare shopper and we probably hit them all. In the evening, I had a quiet dinner with my dad because my step-mother was resting and Lionel had gone back to the airport to get his best…man.” She had to swallow past the lump in her throat. “After that I turned in 26
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early because I was tired.” He peered at her through those dark, intense eyes. “What about yesterday?” “Lionel and I met with the priest at nine to go over our vows. I had a last-minute fitting for my dress right after that, and I’m not sure where Lionel got off to.” Probably to spend time with his friend. “We planned to meet for lunch at a restaurant Lionel had discovered. He gave me the address and we met there at noon.” “What restaurant?” “I think it was called El Tulip something.” “El Tulipán?” “That sounds right. After lunch I met with the florist, came back to my room to discover Genevieve—my step-mother—had taken off with all my underthings and replaced them with a bunch of frou-frou lingerie I hated. So I went to her room and we had a spat. And I didn’t get my regular stuff back,” she grumbled under her breath. She glanced up at the man in black, and for a brief second she thought she saw a flash of humor in his coffee-colored gaze, but it was gone in a heartbeat so she was certain she’d imagined it. “And after that?” “After that, Lionel and I were supposed to meet my dad and Gen for dinner, but…” She dragged in painful breath. “Instead we had a fight. That’s when I left the hotel. You know the rest.” “And you can think of nothing else? Nothing odd that happened to you?” “No. There’s nothing else. They were just two normal days.” Yeah, normal. She dropped her head onto her drawn-up knees and did her damnedest to fight back her misery. All was silent for several minutes. Finally, she heard him walk to the other side of the room. “Come over here. I want to look at your hands.” 27
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“They’re fine. Go away.” “No arguments. Come here.” Once again his tone indicated he wasn’t in the mood to play games, although he didn’t seem quite as angry as he had when he’d first come in the room. Knowing he wasn’t going to leave until she did what he said, she pushed herself to her feet. He stood by the bed, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for her. With a grimace, she headed toward him. But it was the oddest thing…the closer she got to him, the more she could smell his scent, and a vague but enticing memory of strong arms around her and softly whispered words of comfort came to her. This man’s arms? His words? Could it be possible? No, no way. But desire curled in her veins as she suddenly remember him kissing her last night…and of her wanton response. She stamped it out forthwith. Kidnapper, she reminded herself. And from the look on his face, he wasn’t planning on showing her mercy anytime soon. No, the strange memories probably weren’t memories at all. He’d gotten her drunk. The warm arms and comfort were a dream brought on by her inebriated state and her longing to believe this hell wasn’t really happening. “Sit on the bed.” Elizabeth sank onto the mattress, and he pulled up the chair where he’d sat last night. With a gentle touch that belied the fierce scowl on his face, he unwound the bandages. Elizabeth winced when she saw the cuts on her palms. Her left one looked worse than her right, but they were both sore. He dabbed at her palms with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol—the medicinal variety, which sat on the bedside table. Her eyes stung with tears, but she refused to let them fall or utter a sound. She wasn’t going 28
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to get out of here by acting like a wimp and falling apart over something as little as a few cuts. When he’d finished his torture, he studied her hands again. “I think it’s best to leave them unwrapped now. They’ll probably heal better if air can get to them.” She shrugged. Her hands hurt, but it would be easier to function without the bandages. “I brought you something to eat—huevos and frijoles. It’s on the table.” He rose. “I recommend you don’t try to go on a hunger strike or come up with any other reckless schemes.” Elizabeth glared up at him. “I’m not an idiot. You don’t have to treat me like one.” “I thought all rich girls liked to play games.” “What is it with you? Why do you hate me so much? I didn’t ask to be here, remember? And if I’m such a pain in your butt, you could do us both a favor and let me go.” His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “Why? Because now I’ve seen your miserable, filthy hideout? Seen your psycho minions? For crying out loud, I don’t even know your name! Yeah, I could be a real threat to you.” The sarcasm rolled off her tongue in waves. She lurched to her feet and stomped toward the table. He caught her arm and tugged her around to face him. “You also have that rich girl sharp tongue, don’t you?” “Whatever.” She tried to jerk away from him, but he didn’t let her go. His long fingers dug into her flesh—not enough to hurt, but enough she knew if she tried again to pull away it would. “Are you going to rape me? Get it over with then. Everyone else has no problem abusing and using me.” The last was said under her breath. But then a flicker of fear washed over her. Good God, what had she just said? She raised her startled gaze to the man in black. “I…I…” He shook his head as if in disgust. But the cold look that had been 29
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in his eyes since he walked into the room softened. “I have no plans to rape you.” His voice was low and gravelly. His grip eased up, then he uncurled his long fingers from around her arm and let her go. “I told you last night…no one’s going to hurt you, and that includes me. And for the record, my name is Miguel.” “Please, I know you think you can’t let me go, but I swear, I wouldn’t tell anyone about you. I don’t even know where we are.” “You mistake my intentions. It’s not my safety I’m concerned with. It’s yours.” He stroked her cheek for a brief moment in a surprisingly gentle gesture that belied the way he’d treated her all morning. “Because of your men? Because of what they’d do to me?” “They’d rape you and kill you with no remorse. But, unfortunately, they are not the extent of your problem. Whether you like it or not, Galista’s men came to that bar last night looking for you.” “I told you—” He pressed a long finger over her lips. “I know what you told me. I know you don’t believe what I’ve said and what I’m about to say, but listen carefully anyway because your life might very well depend on it.” Her heart fluttered in fear at the serious expression on his face. “Whether you want to hear it or not, there is something about you Galista doesn’t like. The attempt on your life last night wasn’t successful. But Galista doesn’t accept failure. His men will come after you again and again until they succeed. If they found you at the bar, that means they went to your hotel first and followed you there.” “This is insane,” she whispered, shaking her head. But the possibility that someone might have followed her last night sent a chill up her spine. “That it is. But it doesn’t change the fact you are in very real danger.” His forehead furrowed and his eyes blazed. “As long as you do what I say and try nothing foolish, you’ll be safe with me.” 30
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“And what? You’ll keep me locked in this room forever?” “Not forever, no. But for now. Even if I took you back to Acapulco, they’d find you and kill you.” “I want to wake up in my bed and find out this has all been a bad dream,” she whispered. The man in black stroked her hair, yet another surprising, gentle gesture. His clean, masculine scent eddied around her, and again she had another flash of that dreamlike memory of arms protecting her and softly whispered words. “It won’t be forever. Just be patient and you’ll get out of here.” “I don’t even know what you and your men want or what you’re doing…but if it’s money…if you ransomed me, my dad would pay whatever you asked. And then you’d be rid of me. And I swear I wouldn’t ever tell—” He pushed her away, all hint of softness gone. His eyes were back to that stony, bitter sheen of earlier. “Of course, how silly of me. Your rich daddy will pay whatever I want to get you back. Listen carefully, Señorita Sandringham. Maybe you’re used to getting your way by flashing your money around, but that won’t work here. Your father doesn’t have enough money to buy me off. I’m not for sale.” He turned on his heel, stalked to the door, threw it open, then slammed it behind him. The lock clicked into place with a fateful snap. As Elizabeth stared at the stained wood that still shivered from the force of his exit, a new wave of despair washed over her. She stood for several long minutes, too heartsick and frustrated to move. He had to be wrong about someone wanting to kill her. It was probably just an excuse he was using to make her believe he was going to keep her safe so she wouldn’t try to escape. Why then did his serious expression haunt her so much?
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CHAPTER 3
Miguel unlocked the door to his room after several hours. It had taken him that long to get his temper under control. Every time he thought about Elizabeth Sandringham telling him her rich father would pay whatever he wanted to get her back it surged anew. But he’d finally forced at least an external calm by telling himself that, just because Elizabeth was rich didn’t mean she was of the same ilk as Rosalinda. It didn’t mean he had to take his old anger out on her. When he’d discovered who she was, and seen in the morning paper Ramirez had brought in after his night of carousing, that Elizabeth had jilted her fiancé for another man, it was hard not to make comparisons between the two women. Damned hard. And even after all these years, he still remembered with vivid clarity just how deeply Rosa’s manipulation and deceit had delved, and how much he’d lost because of his blind trust. 32
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He’d learned much from that experience, a lifetime’s worth of lessons, and it was those lessons he fell back on now—with his men, this goddamned job, and with Elizabeth Sandringham. He didn’t know how much of her story was truth. She’d acted genuinely shocked and outraged at her fiancé’s claim she’d run off with another man. She’d also come across as sincere that she had no idea why Galista would want her dead. But he’d seen actresses at work before. Rosa had been one of the best. So even the most innocent eyes and the loudest sobs crying foul were no guarantee of sincerity. He’d spent the morning trying to track down clues as to what Elizabeth could have done to draw Galista’s wrath, and had come up with nothing. She seemed to be exactly what she claimed—an innocent in the wrong place at the wrong time. But he knew better. He’d requestioned Ramirez and Christo, and based on the logistics of what had happened—what they’d heard Galista’s men say, as well as the fact the very first shot fired had been aimed at Elizabeth and had almost hit her—there was no doubt the shooters had been after her, even if it was for reasons she didn’t understand. Fuck. He had no idea how he was going to repair the damage this had done to his plan. If Galista wanted Elizabeth dead, then Ramirez and Christo taking her out of the bar would be seen as a deliberate act of defiance, and next Galista would be coming after them, and him, since they worked for him. The only way to salvage his position would be to turn Elizabeth over to Galista as an act of good faith. Which, of course, was never going to happen. His only hope at this point was to keep Elizabeth alive and try to get her to remember something, anything, that might have brought her into contact with the elusive Galista. Damn this mess. He’d do right by his new charge, protect her, and do his best to control his temper. But it didn’t mean he had to trust her. Or like her. 33
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He entered the room and locked the door behind him. The sight of her, when he realized she was asleep in his bed, sent his intentions straight to hell. He moved closer, unable to take his eyes off her. She slept peacefully. He wasn’t surprised she was still exhausted—the few hours of sleep she’d gotten last night had been fitful at best. When he looked at her like this, there was nothing about her even remotely similar to Rosalinda. Where Rosa had been petite and almost child-like, so tiny he could wrap his hands around her waist, Elizabeth was taller and had lush, real-life curves—the kind too many women, in his opinion, over-dieted to get rid of. Rosa’s hair had been straight, ebony black, and long, touching her waist. Elizabeth’s chestnut-brown waves fell just below her shoulders in a riotous mass. Whenever he was around her, he had to fight the urge to bury his hands in the sexy, unruly strands. He remembered Elizabeth’s cornflower blue eyes, and how genuine their expressions were—since last night he’d seen intelligence, fear, hurt, a mischievous temper, and, the biggest surprise…desire. At the memory of her response to his kiss last night, another surge of need walloped him. Damn it. Stop, man! Miguel sucked in a deep breath. This situation was complicated enough. He couldn’t afford to add to it because he couldn’t control his own lust, for Christ sake. He was far too old to act like a horny teenager. Besides, as far as she was concerned, she was his prisoner. Any physical reaction she might have had last night under the influence of the mezcal he’d poured down her throat wouldn’t apply to how she felt about him when she was sober. If the way she’d looked at him this morning was any indicator, she wouldn’t let him close enough to touch her again anyway. 34
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And that was good. She should keep a healthy distance between them. She should be scared of him. Life here was too damned dangerous and unpredictable for her not to be scared. He shook her shoulder. “Wake up.” She opened her eyes and blinked. When her gaze focused on him, her expression immediately grew wary. “I have business, and you’re coming with me.” “I am?” He saw his words sink in and could almost read her thoughts as she wondered if maybe this might be a chance for her to escape. The little fool. He bent over to retrieve her sandals from beside the bed and held them out to her. “Put your shoes on.” The small room had grown sweltering in the June heat, and his white T-shirt she wore clung to her sticky skin. She tugged it away, but it settled right back against her breasts. Those glorious breasts. He couldn’t help but look at them—he’d have to be dead not to. The thin material had molded against her every curve, outlining them in perfect detail. Her nipples had grown erect and stabbed peaks in the fabric. When she looked down and saw what he saw, a red flush crept up her cheeks. She rose unsteadily to her feet, grabbed the shoes he still held out, and awkwardly cleared her throat. “It’s not like I can help it, you know?” she murmured. “Christo destroyed my bra last night.” “They’re perfect.” The honesty slipped out before he thought about it. “Don’t be embarrassed for me to see them.” Her blue eyes grew wide, and she opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t get anything out. Miguel turned to the rickety dresser, pulled out a black button-up shirt from a drawer, and held it toward her. “You can wear it if anyone else is around. While I would never get tired of the sight…” He 35
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allowed himself another slow perusal before his gaze slid upward and locked with hers again. “I don’t like to share. Ever.” Her shock was apparent. “I…” She cleared her throat. “Thank you,” she mumbled, taking the shirt from him. “Shoes,” he reminded. She still held them in one hand, his shirt in the other. “Right.” She tied the shirt around her waist, bent over and, with visibly trembling hands, put on and fastened the straps of her sandals. She didn’t look at him, but he could tell she was trying to gauge his mood. He’d left in a foul temper earlier, so she was probably trying to figure out when he was going to lash out at her again. He decided it might be a good time to remind her how important it was for her to tow the line and not do anything foolish. When she stood, he grasped her upper arms and pulled her toward him. “I want to make it clear that I’m taking you with me for your own protection.” What he didn’t add was that, after last night’s events, he expected Galista’s men to discover this place and come calling any time now, and when they did, he wanted her long gone. He’d already sent Christo and Ramirez off earlier. “Don’t get any ideas about trying to escape.” He settled a hand against his gun in its holster, hoping to scare her into compliance. “I don’t want to have to hurt you. But rest assured that if you cause me any trouble or disrupt my business…” He kept his tone low, and purposely left the subtle threat unspoken and hanging in the air between them. “Do we understand each other?” “Yes,” she said in a shaky whisper. “I also need to remind you that you will do whatever I ask of you. Without question.” She bit her lip. “You…you said…last night…” “And I meant every word of it.” “Even the stuff about…” 36
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He didn’t know what the hell he’d been thinking when he’d said those things to her—the bits about baring her breasts and touching herself or him. He’d seen her nearly naked as he undressed her and put her to bed, so he’d had touching on his mind, he guessed. The words had made for a good scare tactic, though. And from the look on her pale face, it had worked. “Yes, even that.” Her eyes widened to two swirling pools of fear. But damned if he didn’t see that hint of desire once again, too. A quiver swept through her and her breathing came out in soft huffs. Christ. She was getting aroused at the thought. Scared as hell he might really make her do it, but aroused nonetheless. And that, in turn, sent a scalding jolt of need through him. Okay, it was time to put a stop to this. He palmed her cheek, and was distracted for a moment by the softness of her skin before he remembered his intention. “Let’s practice, shall we?” he said in a curt voice. He lowered his mouth to hers much as he had last night in the room with his men…hard, domineering, intent on scaring her and shocking some sense into her so she’d forget any lingering memories of her response to him last night. She stiffened and brought her hands up against his chest as if to protest. Good. Make me stop, he thought at her. It was better for both of them that way. But then, much to his surprise, a whimpered moan came from her throat and she stepped closer. When she began to kiss back, at first tenuously, then with genuine hunger, something in his brain clouded over. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He was supposed to be convincing her she shouldn’t, couldn’t have an attraction to him. And 37
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he wasn’t supposed to have one for her. Damn. Her kiss was hot and sensuous, and the feel of her warm body so near him caused his resolve to weaken. Though he tried to tell himself he shouldn’t trust a woman’s wiles, he sensed there was nothing affected in Elizabeth’s kiss, no game playing. This wasn’t her attempt to soften him up or manipulate him into letting her go. It was the real deal. The realization shocked the hell out of him…and ignited a fire in his blood. Elizabeth’s hands kneaded his chest, then slid up to curl around his neck. Her full curves and arousing scent were like a drug, demanding he take more. He tore his mouth away from her lips and made his way down to the soft indentation below her ear. Her skin tasted salty from the heat, and was sweet as honey at the same time. And her hair…all that dark hair that curled around her shoulders in long, damp waves, sticking to her skin, and smelling faintly of fruity shampoo. Damn, it was sexy. He burrowed a hand into it, bringing her closer. A breathless moan escaped her. She tilted her head, giving him easier access to her neck. “This is…this is…crazy,” she gasped. “I’m not even drunk today. Something must be wrong with me. I…” Miguel heard the distress in her voice mixed with the ragged gasps of her arousal. “Trust me when I tell you there is nothing at all wrong with you. You’re a beautiful woman.” “That’s not—unnhh!” His lips had apparently hit a particularly sensitive spot as he explored the soft sweep of pale skin from her graceful neck down to her collarbone, teasing his tongue over and into every silken hollow. But still he wanted more. Their eyes met—hers passion-filled and slightly dazed—and 38
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lingered for an eternal moment. Slowly, measuring her reaction, he tunneled his hands beneath the hem of her shirt and raised it a few inches, then paused. “Do you want me to stop?” His voice was gritty with need he couldn’t hide. He knew no matter what he’d set out to make her believe, the reality was that she had to be in control of this. He’d never touched a woman against her will, and he wasn’t going to start now. He could see her pulse beating rapidly in her neck. Then she released a soft, deep breath. “I should make you stop, I know I should. But I don’t want to. I want you to touch me.” Another honest reaction. Miguel admired her for that. Something tightened in his chest. Damn. He really admired her for that. She lifted her arms in invitation and he pushed the soft material of her shirt up and over her head and let it fall to the floor. She continued to hold her arms up, and he slid his palms down them, stroking his thumbs against her satiny skin until she twitched. “It tickles,” she gasped, the hint of a smile curving her lips before her eyes darkened once more to a sultry deep blue. Miguel was lost. Those eyes. Her smile… When his hands reached her ribcage, she lowered her arms and clasped his biceps as if to steady herself. He teased his thumbs over the rigid buds of her nipples. “Does that feel good?” Elizabeth’s eyes closed and trembling breaths slipped out of her moist, parted lips. “I…oh…oh, Lord…” How long had it been since he’d seen a woman in the throes of passion like this? A long time. Long enough he’d forgotten how damned arousing it was to hear those soft, little noises of pleasure, to watch her eyes flutter closed as she lost herself in the enjoyment of his touch. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the longing to strip her bare, carry her to a soft bed, and lose himself in her arms for the next 39
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year. Or maybe…maybe he hadn’t forgotten. Maybe this was the only woman in too long to remember who had the power to evoke such a reaction from him. Logic, responsibility, common sense all warred inside him, telling him this couldn’t happen, that it was a complication he couldn’t afford. He needed to stop. But when she whispered his name “…Miguel…” he knew he wouldn’t stop. He found her lips again and stroked her tongue with his in slow, lascivious thrusts. She responded by rising on tiptoe and pressing her groin against him in guileless abandon. His cock, already straining against his zipper, swelled to its full length. Her warm, full breasts beckoned him, so he palmed them, loving how they fit in his hands as if they were made to be there. He squeezed gently, but was startled when she gave a soft, strangled cry against his mouth as if he’d hurt her. Concerned, Miguel broke away from the kiss and held her at arm’s length. “What is it?” He glanced down…and what he saw roused a deep, black fury within him. A rabid flurry of swear words burst from his mouth. Elizabeth’s eyes opened and filled with fear. She tried to pull away from him, but he didn’t let her go. When he realized she thought he was angry at her, he wanted to take back his explosion. But he couldn’t swallow the rage. His gaze returned to the pale globes tipped with full, dusky-rose areolas and plump nipples that begged to be tasted. They were as beautiful as he’d remembered. Except, where the skin should have been perfect and unblemished, instead the delicate flesh was creased with welts of purple and blue. How could he not have seen this last night, damn it? It was possible the bruises hadn’t bloomed to full color until today, but nonetheless, he was pissed at himself for not noticing before. He should 40
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have. “Which one of them did this?” he ground out. Elizabeth swallowed hard, and he knew she was trying to make sense of his mood, his words. She glanced down, her face aflame, but when she saw the bruises, her surprised gaze skittered back up to meet his. “Ramirez?” he demanded, his voice barely more than a growl. “Was it Ramirez?” She nodded. A powerful protective instinct inside him reared its head. He captured her chin and tipped her face up to look at him. “He won’t ever touch you again. If he or Christo even look like they’re coming near you, I’ll kill them.” “I…you…” “I’ll make sure you’re safe. You won’t be touched again while you’re in my care. By anyone.” And that included him—he knew it could be no other way. He had no more right to touch her than his men did. As far as she was concerned, he was a criminal and no better than they. He lowered his mouth onto hers for one final kiss, savoring her sweet taste, her feel. Then he pulled away, scooped the white T-shirt off the floor, and handed it to her. Her eyes widened at his abrupt withdrawal. “Let’s go.” His voice was gruff, but not from anger. It took every bit of his self control to step away and do what he knew was right, rather than give in to the aching need he felt for her. But even as he unlocked the door and held it open for her to precede him, all he wanted was to lay her back on the bed, bury himself inside her, and show her how deeply she’d affected him. 41
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CHAPTER 4
Elizabeth stared in silence out the passenger window of the black Ford Explorer. The desert sliding past the glass teemed with life…yellowed grass burst from the dry, red earth, and many varieties of cactus punctuated the terrain, from the towering organ pipes to different kinds of maguey. A purple mountain range loomed in the distance with dark thunderheads boiling over the peaks, threatening an afternoon storm. But what she found truly spectacular were the huge black vultures soaring off the plateaus, riding the wind, their enormous wings spread wide. She envied them their freedom and their ability to rise so high above everything. Yet even the awe-inspiring beauty surrounding her could only distract her momentarily from the reality of her situation, and the man next to her. Miguel steered the vehicle down the ribbon of empty blacktop. His 42
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face was as brooding as the coming storm. They’d been driving nearly an hour, but aside from handing her a couple of tortillas and a soda when they first got in the Explorer, he hadn’t looked at her or said a word since they’d left the house. After his passion-filled statement that he’d kill anyone who hurt her, he’d kissed her with a hungry tenderness, then he’d pulled away. She’d been reeling, confused, weakkneed with unfulfilled desire. But he’d given no explanation. He’d shut her out. And though she knew it was completely screwed up for her to think it since she shouldn’t be attracted to Miguel at all—she should hate him and his touch—his rejection hurt. She wondered for the hundredth time since they’d begun this drive if she was losing her mind. She’d never, in her entire life, felt such a tangled mess of emotions. How could she have responded to him like she had? She could understand, maybe, the way she’d reacted last night. She’d been drunk, his kiss had been electrifying. But today? She had no excuses to fall back on. He’d been a complete bear this morning, seeming to hate the very sight of her. That should have been warning enough to stay away from him. But when he’d confirmed that he had, indeed, meant what he’d told her about making her touch herself or him if he said so, a current of electricity had zapped through her. When he’d kissed her again, her traitorous body had gotten all hot and bothered, and next thing she knew, she was halfway to heaven. Oh, Lord. Elizabeth shook her head. He’d even given her an out…had asked her point blank if she wanted him to stop, and what had she said? “No!” Good God! What had she been thinking? She hadn’t. Been thinking, that is. She’d been feeling. When he touched her, kissed her, something foreign, sensual, and exciting stirred within her. Liquid heat surged through her veins, flames ignited in her core, and she found herself wanting to feel his hands all over her. And the way he’d looked at her…all possessive. No man had ever looked at 43
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her that way before. While she knew, logically, she should have been terrified to see such ownership in Miguel’s eyes—he was her captor— instead, perversely, she’d found herself liking it. Loving it. What was wrong with her? Had Lionel’s betrayal put her over the edge? Or had the kidnapping? Something must be wrong because there was no way she should be feeling the things she was feeling. How could she allow herself to experience anything at all for a man who was clearly a criminal, carried a gun, growled orders at her, and smelled like danger and intoxicating passion? It was the intoxicating passion thing that did her in. And the way he’d shown signs of gentleness. That protective gleam in his eyes. And his comment that he never shared. Ever. She tilted her head and gazed at Miguel out of the corner of her eye. When she looked at him, her body sizzled to life. Her breasts ached for his touch, her weeping cleft left her panties damp, and she imagined how those long fingers of his could pleasure her, how they’d feel sliding in and out of her, stroking her clit, leaving her writhing and sweaty and wanting more… Stop, she cried silently. This wasn’t healthy. Wasn’t there a name for prisoners who were attracted to their captors? Some kind of syndrome? That had to be what was going on here. Or maybe she was so desperate to make herself feel better after Lionel had rejected her for another man that she’d latched onto the first bit of “feel good” excitement to come along. “My kidnapper,” she whispered, letting the humiliation of it wash over her. “I’m not your kidnapper.” Miguel’s deep voice caused a shiver to skitter up Elizabeth’s spine, and she was acutely aware it wasn’t from fear. “What would you call it then?” She turned to look at him. “Ramirez and Christo took you from the bar. If I hadn’t been there 44
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when they brought you back to the house, you’d be dead.” “So you think that makes you…what? My rescuer?” “In a manner of speaking.” “A manner of speaking.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “And your hideout, whoever this Galista is, however you’re connected to him…I suppose that’s all legitimate and aboveboard, too? In a manner of speaking?” “Something like that.” His hands tightened on the leather-wrapped steering wheel, but his eyes stayed focused on the road. “Well, if that’s the case, then I should be free to go. After all, holding me against my will would be illegal, and since you’re so good at twisting things to make them seem legitimate, then you wouldn’t want to do anything illegal, right?” “You already know why you can’t leave.” “Oh, right. Because Ramirez and Christo might rape me and kill me, and if they don’t get me, then this Galista person will.” She gestured a hand around at the magnificent but empty landscape. “Gee, I don’t see Ramirez, Christo, or Galista anywhere near right now. It’d be kind of tough for them to hurt me when they’re nowhere in sight.” The last came out as almost a growl. Maybe the stress really was getting to her. She’d never growled in her life. The Explorer slid to a stop, churning and spitting up gravel on the shoulder. Miguel hit the button with his left hand that unlocked the doors, then he turned to her. His face was a study in calm. “Get out.” “Wh—at?” Elizabeth stared at him, but her hand instinctively reached for the door handle. “Get out. You can go.” She dragged in several shaky breaths. “What’s the catch?” He shrugged. “No catch. As you pointed out, all these people who want to hurt you are nowhere to be seen, which means you should be perfectly safe out here, right?” He picked up an elastic band from the 45
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dash, stroked those long fingers through the glossy thickness of his hair and pulled it back behind his head, forming a neat ponytail. “Of course you realize ‘nowhere’ is the key word, yes? There isn’t a town for sixty miles in any direction. And while you may stumble across a few houses or even an occasional vehicle on this road, folks out here usually live out here for a reason…because they engage in activities they don’t want to be observed. They aren’t used to strangers, especially white strangers. And a white woman would be susceptible to…” He shrugged again. “You’re just saying all that to scare me.” “Am I?” His coffee-colored eyes glinted, but she saw no humor or dishonesty in them. He reached across her, opened the glove compartment, and pulled out a map. He spread it open and laid it on her lap. His woody scent filled her senses, and when his hand brushed her leg, a deep pulse of desire speared through her and she almost gasped. “We are…here.” He pointed to a spot on the map that was, truly, in the middle of nowhere. “At least in this vicinity.” “I’ve never been outside Acapulco,” she said. “I’m not familiar with the rest of southern Mexico. For all I know you could be pointing out some random place.” “If you don’t want to trust the map, use your eyes. Look around you. What do you see? By all means, if you prefer to take your chances on your own, if you think you can protect yourself, I won’t stop you. You’ll need this.” He pulled a bottle of water out from under the seat and handed it to her. “It won’t last long out here, you’ll have to find more quickly, but that’s all I have with me.” Then he squinted toward the mountains. “A storm is coming. You’ll need to find shelter from it. I would recommend heading for the mesa over there. There will probably be an arroyo on the other side where you can take cover. Stay out of the bottom of the arroyo, though—flash 46
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floods aren’t uncommon. And the desert is home to many snakes and scorpions who find rocks appealing, so be very cautious of where you step and sit.” A surge of rebellion coursed through Elizabeth. She opened her door in spite of his words, and put one leg out. A rush of dry, ozonesmelling wind hit her, blowing the map off her lap and onto the floor. Her hair whipped around her face. She stared out the door. Wasn’t it better to take her chances out here and at least have her freedom than to stay with him? At least she might have a chance of finding help, of stopping another vehicle, of finding someone who could give her a ride back to Acapulco. Miguel might be saying all the stuff about people out here not liking strangers, and about how a white woman alone would be easy pickings, just to scare her. Just like he’d said all the stuff to scare her this morning, about how Galista wanted her dead. But then common sense kicked back in. Who was she kidding? He was right, at least about the first part. She was here right now because she’d been a white woman alone in a small foreign town, very easy pickings for the two men who’d manhandled and kidnapped her. And if she managed not to get molested out here, she didn’t have a clue how to survive in the wilderness. Her damned, useless society life growing up hadn’t prepared her for something like this. And even as an adult, after she’d broken free of her family’s dictates, she had her books if she wanted to have adventures. She could tell you every scene in every adventure novel she’d ever read. But that didn’t mean she had a clue how to do any of the things she’d read about. Her heart tightened at the truth. Forced into the stormy reality of life outside her safe little plane of existence, she was useless. And, she realized with a heavy sigh, dependent on the man who sat behind her. She dragged her leg back into the vehicle and slammed the door. 47
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“You—” “Don’t say anything.” She slumped down in the seat and stared straight ahead. She felt Miguel’s gaze on her, and had the sudden urge to sob like a baby. She never had gotten the chance to have a good cry over everything. But she swallowed back the hot tears. Not here. Not in front of him. The Explorer finally eased into motion, bumping from the gravel shoulder back onto the pocked pavement. “Tell me about your life,” he said after several minutes had passed. “Why? So you can snarl at me again like you did earlier today? Make assumptions? Jump to conclusions and believe everything you’ve read and heard?” He was silent so long she figured he was pissed at her again. But he surprised her by finally saying, “Fair hit. I deserved that.” She glanced at him and was startled when he turned his head, met her gaze for a brief moment, then gave her a sexy half-smile before looking back to the road. She could barely breathe. The sight of his smile, so unexpected, so— “Set me straight then. Give me the facts about Elizabeth Sandringham so I don’t make any other wrong assumptions.” Elizabeth remained silent, not sure what to tell him…what, if anything personal, she wanted to share. She’d already given him a laundry list of everything she’d done the past two days before the bar, so what more did he want? “Come on,” Miguel coaxed. “Tell me something I would never expect about you.” She seized the first memory that came to her. “When I was a young teenager, I used to have this fantasy that a biker dude would ride up to my house on a big, rumbly Harley, pick me up like Richard Gere did 48
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Debra Winger in An Officer and a Gentleman, put me on his bike, and ride off into the sunset.” A low husky chuckle filled the interior of the SUV. “A biker dude?” “Yeah.” A little smile tugged at Elizabeth’s mouth. “I never dreamed of Prince Charming coming to carry me off to his castle because I already lived in a castle. At least that’s the way it felt to me. And I hated it there. So my fantasy was that someone tough and dangerous—the complete opposite of a namby-pamby prince—would rescue me and take me away from all that.” Miguel grew silent. After a couple of minutes he asked, “You hated it there?” Elizabeth sighed. “My mom died from cancer when I was seven. She was a wonderfully practical person, always had a smile on her face. This was before my dad made it big in the hotel industry. We lived in a little suburban house, and during the summer went to stay on the Cape with my grandparents. When she got sick, it happened fast, and then she was gone. I was devastated. “During the next year my dad threw himself into his business and it began to take off. He started opening hotels all over the world, traveling a lot, and I stayed with a nanny he hired. Until one day, when I was ten, he came home with a new wife. Genevieve.” She huffed out a disgruntled breath. “Let’s just say she very much liked the fact my dad now had money. We moved into a big mansion, suddenly had servants for every occasion, I was never allowed to leave the house unless I was dressed as Gen saw fit. She enrolled me in every dance, tennis, and etiquette lesson she could find, along with anything else she felt a proper young lady should know. I wasn’t allowed to go to the public school with my friends any more, and instead had to attend a private school because Genevieve insisted it was ‘in my best interest.’ In short, everything in my life got turned upside down. So, yes, I resented it.” 49
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“How did your dad feel about his new wife reordering your lives?” “In truth, I’m not sure he really noticed. He was gone a lot. Busy. When he was home, he was the same sweet dad I’d always remembered, but kind of out of touch with the home reality. The few times I tried to tell him I was unhappy, he’d pat my hand and say, ‘There, there, sweetheart. Genevieve just wants what’s best for you. She wants you to look on her as a mother.’ He was pretty much clueless that Gen was nothing like my mom and I wasn’t ever going to let her step into those shoes.” Elizabeth stared out the window, remembering that sick-in-the-gut feeling of missing her mom so desperately, yet having no one to talk to about it. “Anyway, while other young girls dreamed of my life, all I wanted was to run away from it. As soon as I finished college I turned down the executive job my dad wanted to give me in the hotel business, moved out on my own, and basically turned my back on that whole lifestyle.” “Isn’t your fiancé from a wealthy family?” There was an undercurrent of tension in Miguel’s tone. “Ex-fiancé. And I wasn’t marrying him for his money if that’s what you’re getting at.” There was another long silence where she had plenty of time to regret rambling out so much of her history to him. Ramble, ramble, ramble. Maybe it was nerves. Thunder rattled in the distance, and the sky darkened around them. “So what do you do if you don’t work for your father?” She almost didn’t answer. But then she figured she’d told him so much else already, what did it matter? “I own a bookstore.” She felt his curious gaze on her. “What type of books do you carry?” 50
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“Everything. Well, virtually everything…it’s a small place, but growing. I have fiction and nonfiction.” “New or used?” “Both.” “Do you have a pretty good profit margin on the used books as compared to the new ones?” “Better. Considerably better. Used books are my bread and butt—” She stopped in mid-sentence and looked at him. For a moment she’d almost forgotten where she was and who he was. He glanced at her, his eyebrows drawn together as if to say, “What?” But then understanding settled over his face. “Shall we have another talk about making assumptions? But this time with you as the star of the show?” Heat crept up her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I just…” “Assumed that because you think I’m a bad guy I must also be dumb as a board?” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I thought. I guess you just caught me by surprise.” “As you have me on more than one occasion,” he murmured so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “So…where are we going?” she asked, steering the conversation away from her. “I mean, if it’s allowed for me to ask that.” “Surveillance.” “Is that a fancy way of saying we’re going spying?” He didn’t respond, but another one of those low chuckles came out of him, turning her insides to mush. A few minutes later he pulled off the narrow highway onto a dirt road that led toward a canyon. The distance was deceiving. She could see the canyon ahead, but as they bounced and jounced down the road, they didn’t seem to be getting any closer to it. It was nearly fifteen minutes before the tall 51
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rocks began to encroach on them. Miguel made another turn, this time onto something that could barely be called a rut. A few trees poked out here and there, but the predominant terrain and life forms were still mostly desert. Lightning flashed and a growl of thunder rumbled down the canyon walls. Another turn, and a few hundred feet later, she spied an old barn tucked into a finger of the canyon. It was nearly hidden by the rocks— you had to be almost on it before you saw it. It looked solid, but abandoned. Miguel drove up to it and through one of the doorways on the lefthand side. “The people you’re spying on live in a barn?” He stopped the Explorer and turned it off. “No, but this is good cover so no one sees our ride while we take a little hike. Stay here for a minute.” He opened his door and got out. They were in a stall that, while not particularly small, with the SUV in it made for a tight squeeze with only a foot or two to spare on all four sides. She watched Miguel peer through a door that led, she assumed, into the main area of the barn. Probably checking to be sure the place was empty. He closed it. “Let’s go. If we hurry we can be back before the storm hits.” He pulled a small black nylon pack out from under the driver’s seat, ushered her out of the barn, closing the big stall door behind them so the SUV couldn’t be seen, and led her up and over rocks as they climbed toward a mesa. Lightning flashed overhead and the wind had picked up speed. Elizabeth’s hair blew around her face, into her eyes and mouth. She was quickly wishing she’d swiped one of Miguel’s elastic bands. She huffed along behind him. He didn’t check to see if she was following, but he always had that wiry alertness about him that told her even if she 52
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decided to try her luck and run, he’d catch her before she made it five steps. Of course she’d already established she couldn’t take care of herself out here even if she tried to get away, so instead, she trudged along behind him, feeling the burn of her muscles from the climb. Finally they neared the top of the mesa, but before she could pull herself over the edge, he motioned her with a hand to stop. “Stay there. The fewer moving targets up here, the better.” Moving targets? Good God, did he expect someone out here to start shooting at them? “I’ll be right back.” He sprinted across the mesa top to the far edge, where he knelt and fiddled with something in the rocks. She watched him open the pack he carried. He fiddled some more. What did he have out there? He’d said they were coming here to do surveillance. Was it some kind of hidden camera? But out here, what in the world was he recording? Before she could think it through, he was back. And not even out of breath, which really ticked her off. She’d barely stopped gasping from the trek up here. “Hurry.” His voice was urgent. “The storm’s going to hit any minute and we don’t want to be caught in it.” They descended back down into the canyon in silence. It took all Elizabeth’s concentration not to get blown away by the vicious wind. Another bolt of lightning lit up the dark sky, and thunder roared through the rock walls like a train. Back at the barn, Miguel held the door open while she bolted inside, then he shouldered it closed against the strength of the wind. With no windows, the stall fell into gray shadow. “We’ll wait it out here.” He opened the passenger door of the Explorer, stowed his pack again, and retrieved the bottle of water she’d left in the seat. He offered it to her and she gratefully took several sips before handing it back and 53
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he drank. Even in the dim lighting she was fascinated and oddly aroused watching the strong column of his throat as he tipped his head back and swallowed. In the tight space between the vehicle and the barn wall, he was so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body. His scent made her dizzy, and it wasn’t because it was too strong. More like too damned sexy. She wrapped her arms around herself. For protection, she supposed, although it was pretty silly. The truth was, she could so easily get drunk on him, and be damned happy about it. No! You’ve got to stop this! The heavens opened outside. There were no warning splatters that slowly built into a downpour. Instead, an angry torrent of water simply dumped from the sky to pound on the roof and walls. Wind raged through the canyon, shaking the barn. Miguel tensed. “Stay put,” he ordered as he slipped past her, drawing his weapon. Elizabeth’s heart skipped in her chest. Had he heard something? He crept along the wall, back toward the outside door, and peered through a crack she could just see a thin gray streak of daylight through. Then he was by her side again almost before she could breathe. “We’re about to have company. Stay quiet. We’re not far from Galista’s compound, so it could be some of his men.” His words were barely heard over the storm. Oh, no. Memories of the gunfire in the bar last night came back to haunt her. She counted herself lucky to have survived that incident with all the bullets flying around. She was terrified she might not be as lucky if it happened again. Miguel wrapped an arm around her as if he sensed her panic. His other hand still held his gun. “They’re probably just getting out of the storm like we are. If we stay quiet, they may not ever know we’re 54
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here.” She nodded, too scared to speak. The sound of a car driving into the barn just on the other side of the wall next to them set her to shaking. A door slammed. Then another. Miguel’s grip on her tightened. He leaned forward and peered through one of the cracks in the wooden wall. Elizabeth waited, barely brave enough to breathe. With the storm torturing the barn, she knew any tiny noises she might make would probably be masked. Yet that didn’t calm her fear. Miguel suddenly stiffened next to her. “Fucking hell,” he groaned under his breath. “What?” The whispered word came out before she remembered she wasn’t supposed to say anything. She looked up at him, hoping she hadn’t just screwed up. In the deep gray shadows she could make out his jaw clenching and releasing. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was still focused on what was happening on the other side of the wall. She heard laughter—a woman’s high-pitched giggle. It was followed by a gravelly male voice speaking Spanish. Morbid curiosity drove Elizabeth to lean forward and find her own crack to peep through. The main area of the barn was well-lit in spite of the storm, both from the open door the rusted-out sedan had driven through, and from the numerous windows high up near the roof. Oh. Lord. She dragged in a breath and let it out in a ragged gust. The man wore a gun in a shoulder holster similar to Miguel’s and had another strapped to his thigh. The one on his leg wasn’t there long, though; he was unfastening it even as Elizabeth watched. But her eyes couldn’t seem to stay focused on him…not with the woman ripping out of her clothes faster than seemed humanly possible, and giggling the whole time. Her blouse was already draped over a bale of hay. Her short-shorts slid down her long, dark legs, and when they 55
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reached her feet, she kicked them in the air. They landed on a broken piece of wood jutting from the outer wall. Standing in nothing but a thong, black lace push-up bra with bountiful breasts spilling over the top, and killer stiletto heels, she crooked her finger at the man. He was a hulking fellow, not as tall as Miguel, but considerably heavier. He was already unbuckling his belt, and the woman sauntered closer to help. She tugged it loose, released his zipper, and although Elizabeth couldn’t see what exactly she was doing to him, the look of ecstasy on the man’s face gave her a good idea. When he said something in guttural Spanish, the woman just laughed again, her full breasts jiggling. She turned, presented him her bare-cheeked backside, and gave it a gyration. He bellowed, scooped her up, and stalked to the hay bale, where he sat and laid her face down, ass up over his lap. He began peeling her thong down but grew frustrated, so he gave it a yank, then chuckled in triumph when he held the broken scrap of satin in his hand. He tossed it over his shoulder. The woman’s naked rear-end pointed in Miguel and Elizabeth’s direction, and Elizabeth couldn’t tear her eyes off the sight of the man’s thick, dark hand caressing it. He stroked over the round cheeks, slid a finger along her crack down to the woman’s pussy, then back up again. All the while the woman squirmed against him. When the man’s hand suddenly came down with a loud thwack on the woman’s ass, she squealed. Elizabeth jumped and almost gasped except for Miguel’s hand closing over her mouth in time. “Shhh,” he said in her ear and waited for her to nod before he slowly uncovered her mouth. He moved in behind her so every inch of her back side pressed to his chest and groin. Between his husky whisper and the hard heat of his body nestled in intimate contact with hers, a ripple of need spread through her, settling in her core, where it started a 56
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slow burn. She should have turned away from the sight of the other couple, but she didn’t. Couldn’t. What was wrong with her today? Now she was a voyeur on top of everything else? The man spanked the woman again, and the woman cried out. She said something—Elizabeth didn’t have a clue what—but from the tone of it, it didn’t sound like she was complaining. More like asking for more. Elizabeth could almost feel the heat of the spanking on her own fanny, and she fought the urge to squirm, knowing her actions would only rub her against Miguel’s groin. She was embarrassed by her reaction to watching the couple, and didn’t want him to know about it. But each time the man’s hand made contact with the woman’s flesh, and the woman moaned in pleasure, Elizabeth squeezed her thighs together against the currents of heat that surged through her. When the man paused in his punishing and slid his hand over the woman’s bright red ass, then spread the half-moons apart and thrust his fingers into her pussy, Elizabeth barely managed to hold back a moan. Miguel’s arms tightened around her waist and she felt his breath against her neck. While the man plunged his thick fingers in and out of the woman, all Elizabeth could think about was the feel of Miguel behind her, and how badly she wanted him to touch her. Really touch her. Stroke her. Rub her. Probe her. In all the right places. Their situation, logic…none of it mattered. All she cared about right now was that she was utterly turned on, the sexiest man she’d ever met was behind her, and she wanted to know what it would feel like to lose control with him. In the other room, the woman screamed in climax. But that wasn’t the end. In a quick movement, the man lifted her off him and jerked down his pants, letting them puddle around his ankles. He pushed the woman face-first over the hay bale so her flaming rear was in the air, 57
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then knelt behind her. Elizabeth could see his cock—nearly purple it was so erect. He teased it against the woman’s cheeks, then her slit, and without further ado, shoved it home. He began pumping into her with gusto, and she screamed him onward, thrusting back to meet him. The sound of their damp flesh slapping together filled the barn in spite of the storm. Oh, God. Elizabeth closed her eyes. She couldn’t watch anymore. Her legs felt like noodles, and she’d thought she was in hell before, but that was nothing compared to this desperate, painful longing that ached inside her. The heat of Miguel’s hands burned through her T-shirt. His breath against her neck was making her insane. His muscular thighs cradled her ass…teasing, but not giving anything up. And she knew he was getting as hard as she was wet because she could feel the bulge of his erection against the small of her back. Please. Please, please, please. Touch me like you did earlier. Touch me or I’m going to die. A soft growl sounded behind her. Big hands slid up under her tee, sizzling her skin as they stroked her waist. “Far be it for me to let you die,” he whispered, his breath a flame against her ear. Had she said that last out loud? But it didn’t matter anymore when his palms feathered up over her ribs and finally, finally, brushed her aching nipples. As he rolled the distended nubs between his fingers, he nosed her hair out of the way, and his steaming lips settled in the ultra-sensitive hollow between her neck and shoulder. Her breath came out in ragged gasps and she let her head fall back against his chest. She grasped one of his hands and pressed it down, urging him to explore. He unfastened her jeans with ease, and she wiggled her hips, making more room for his hand to get inside. Which it did, slipping under her thin silk panties, burrowing through her curls, and, in a slow, 58
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sweet stroke, easing into the dripping heat of her cunt. Afraid she’d cry out and give them away, she bit her bottom lip. But she couldn’t stop the desperate undulation of her hips against his magic finger that knew exactly where to press, how hard, how fast. Miguel’s other hand stayed busy at her breast, being careful not to squeeze and hurt her, but showing no such mercy to her beaded nipple. Elizabeth no longer knew what was happening in the other room. But between the man’s grunting and the woman’s screaming and moaning, along with the rain slamming against the roof, she knew she and Miguel weren’t in imminent danger of discovery. Still…even as her body writhed and became more and more lost to Miguel’s fondling, she was fully aware of the dangerous predicament they were in. Yet, somehow, that knowledge only amplified her desire. Miguel pulled his hand out of her pants, and she barely caught herself before protesting aloud. He turned her so she faced him, and gazed down at her for several seconds. Even in the semi-darkness she could see his eyes burning into her. Was he going to shut her out and reject her again? No. Please, no. But then he was tugging at her shirt, pulling it up and over her head. He leaned in close to her. “You can’t make a sound,” he whispered in her ear. “No matter how good it feels, not a sound. Can you do that?” He gazed down at her again. She nodded. “Good girl.” He eased her jeans and panties over her hips and pushed them down. When they fell around her ankles, she kicked them off, along with her sandals. It was only then a wave of heat flooded her…was it embarrassment or acute awareness? She was wasn’t sure. Here she stood, completely nude, in a dark barn in Mexico, with a thug and his girlfriend fucking like maniacs in the room next door, and her own desperado looking at 59
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her like he could eat her alive. He just stood there, only a foot away from her, staring at her. What was he thinking? “Fuck.” It was part quiet growl, part groan. He suddenly dragged her against him and kissed her. Then, in another one of those steamy whispers in her ear, he said, “If every man had a woman like you to look at, no one would get anything done. All they’d be able to think about was how fast and how often they could take you to bed.” Elizabeth barely had time to let his words sink in before his mouth found hers again. She met him eagerly. The man kissed like…well, she didn’t know like what. Maybe he stood in a class by himself. He was brilliant. A master. She needed to feel his skin against hers and reached between them to pull up his shirt. But his gun holster posed a problem and she didn’t have any idea how to get it out of the way. Miguel stripped it off and set it and his gun on the seat inside the Explorer. They both pushed and pulled on his shirt, tearing their lips apart only long enough for him to get it over his head and discard it. Her fingers explored the sculpted planes of his chest, teased over pebbled nipples in a light dusting of hair, then grazed his abdomen to discover his six pack was everything she’d thought it would be. A thin line of coarse hair began just below his navel and disappeared into his waistband. Wanting to follow it, she worked at his belt buckle, then practically tore at the snap and zipper on his jeans. Heat surged from his groin, radiating around her hands. She barely noticed the elastic band of his briefs as she pushed past it. His cock was hot, hard as sin, and jutting upright from a thick nest of dark pubic curls. Using her right hand, which was less sore than her left, she sheathed him in her palm. It was all she could do not to groan at the feel of him. He did groan, but it was swallowed by Elizabeth’s mouth and a 60
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convenient rumble of thunder that shook the barn. Miguel lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her wet folds settled against the fiery skin on his stomach, and the tip of his cock caressed her ass. A quick shudder rocked through her—not a climax, but one of those mini-almost-climaxes that hinted of things to come, yet only left her wanting more. She squirmed against him. He took two steps and set her on the still-warm hood of the Explorer. Pulling his mouth off hers, he spread her legs wide, lowered his head between them, and buried his tongue in her pussy. Oh, Jesus. She grabbed his head, partly to encourage him—not that he needed it—partly for support. Her back arched and it took every ounce of her willpower not to moan—hell, scream—her pleasure. That same magnificent technique he kissed with had its other uses. And his tongue…good God, she could learn to worship that tongue and the things it could do. Pinpricks of sensation tingled through her legs, followed by that euphoric moment of floating that preceded an orgasm. But instead of letting her come, he seemed to sense how close she was, so he teased her, drawing it out, leaving her hanging for what felt like an eternity. Her whole body trembled….hummed…then, finally, at long last, he let her fly. She managed to keep quiet, God knows how, but her hips surged off the hood of the car, clenching so tight and for so long she had a bizarre moment of wondering if it was possible to die from coming too hard. Miguel had withdrawn his mouth when the climax took her, letting her experience the full glory of her orgasm without the further stimulation some men insisted on that only ended up frustrating her. Elizabeth could have kissed him for reacting so perfectly. And he only endeared himself to her even more when, after the last shudder disappeared, then, and only then, did he return, his tongue 61
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gentle but fast in exactly the right way, and enticed a second, even more powerful explosion from her. He straightened and lowered his mouth to hers in a deep, probing kiss. She tasted herself on him, and even though she wouldn’t have dreamed she could still be horny, she was. She locked her arms around his neck and slid forward on the hood. “I want you. In me,” she whispered, wrapping her legs around his waist again and wiggling her hips so her wet slit brushed his abs. He hissed in a breath at the contact, then pulled her head close and rested his forehead against hers. “That’s exactly where I want to be, but we can’t. No protection.” The words were barely more than a hushed groan, and she felt his frustration. “Oh, God,” she murmured, knowing he was right, but needing him so much it hurt. Grunts and cries still echoed out of the main room, so they were safe for a bit longer. “Okay…there are other things…” She reached down and wrapped a hand around his throbbing length. In a moment of inspiration, she rubbed her hand over her sopping pussy, covering her fingers in her own juices, and smeared them over Miguel’s cock. It leapt at her touch, and she could feel the dark heat of his gaze searing into her. She repeated the action several times until his dick glistened in the gray light. Then, once more, she closed her hand around him and began to stroke him. His hands fell to his sides, his head tipped back, and an expression of raw vulnerability slid over his sculpted face. That sight, along with the feel of his turgid rod in her hand, was one of the biggest aphrodisiacs she’d ever experienced. Up…down…she moved, letting her thumb slide over his smooth cockhead between strokes. With her other hand she cupped his heavy balls, rolling them gently. Miguel gave a soft moan, obviously approving. Elizabeth had never felt this empowered, this daring, or this openly 62
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sensuous with a man before. Something about Miguel stirred things to life inside her—emotions, toe-curling, skin-tingling primal reactions. And she’d never felt more alive. His erection pulsed in her hand, and by the tight lines forming on his forehead in concentration, she knew he was getting close. One of his hands closed over hers, slowing her down, guiding her hand in long strokes from his tip to deep at the base of his dick. He raised his head and the look he gave her, sexy and sultry as hell, caused her to shudder in response. While he continued jacking himself, with his other hand he pulled hers loose and placed it on her pussy. Her breath caught and she stared at him. “Touch yourself.” His voice was a husky whisper. “I want to watch you.” Forbidden passion rippled through her, settling right in her swollen clit. She’d never masturbated in front of anyone—but at the look on his face, and watching him stroke his thick pole, her fingers began to move without further prompting. “That’s it,” he murmured, watching her actions. His glittering gaze slid back up to her face. “Christ, you’re beautiful.” Unexpected tears stung her eyes at his words. “So are you,” she whispered back. It didn’t take long for the tell-tale tingles to spring to life in Elizabeth. She knew her body well, and knew exactly how to get where she wanted to go. But watching Miguel’s big hand pump his cock added a whole new dimension to it. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the sight, and had the sudden urge to feel his come splattering on her. Her own climax hit her hard and fast, brought on by those thoughts. And when her eyes fluttered open it was just in time to see Miguel’s close in pleasure-pain as the first wave of semen spurted from him. Without hesitation, she reached down and aimed his cock at her. His eyelids flew opened in question at what she was doing, then he 63
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grimaced as another surge spewed forth, this time hitting her on the breasts, as did the next, and the next, until, eventually, he’d spent himself. His hot seed was even more of a turn-on than she’d imagined, coating her flesh, dripping off her nipples, and in shuddering convulsion, she brought herself off again. Then she swiped a finger through his cream, brought it to her mouth, and licked it clean. Miguel stared at her, his face a study in contrasts between astonishment, sated exhaustion, and that possessive look that left her dizzy. He closed the slight distance between them and pulled her against his chest. He didn’t seem to mind that his action was getting them both wet and slippery. With one hand he stroked her hair. The other rubbed up and down her back. Elizabeth curled her arms around his neck, laid her head on his shoulder, and let him hold her. Elizabeth realized she was more confused than ever about herself, about Miguel, about the fact he was supposed to be her kidnapper and none of this should ever, ever have happened. But each time the thoughts only caused an anxious knot in her stomach, and so she pushed them away. For now it was easier and much nicer to simply lean on his strength, feel the gentle caress of his hands on her skin, smell his sexy but also comforting scent of earthy aftershave and musky male, and allow herself to pretend this was the man she’d been waiting for all her life. At long last, the storm began to let up and the couple next door called an end to their activities. As they spoke, she sensed Miguel focusing on their conversation. When it sounded as if some action was coming toward them, he tensed, held her at arm’s length, and pressed a finger to his lips. He stepped to the door of the Explorer and silently retrieved his gun. Elizabeth once more fought back fear. If they were caught now, 64
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here she was, sitting naked on the hood. Talk about vulnerable. And Miguel, though now armed, wasn’t much better with his shirt off, and his cock, still impressive even at half-mast, jutting from his unzipped, low-riding jeans. Breathe. Breathe. You’re not going to die today. She looked at Miguel, saw the commanding, confident line of his body, and a frisson of calm settled over her. She realized, in a moment of crystal, albeit shocking, clarity that she trusted him. She couldn’t think too hard at the moment about what exactly that meant. But she did know he’d protect her. Now the man and woman were arguing. The storm had passed completely, and without the pounding rain and wind to mask the sounds, Elizabeth could hear the rustle of clothes as they were donned, as well as the stomping and banging of someone who clearly was pissed off. A vitriolic shriek echoed off the walls, causing Elizabeth to wince. It was followed by a slap. It wasn’t until two car doors slammed and the sound of a clunking engine started that Elizabeth allowed herself a deep breath. Miguel waited until the car had pulled out of the barn, then he slipped past her, cracked the outside door, and watched for several minutes. “They’re gone.” His voice, so deep after the long silence, startled her. He returned to stand in front of her and she noticed he’d resheathed his penis inside his gray briefs, but his jeans were still unzipped. In an unexpected, tender gesture, he cupped her face between his palms and kissed her. It wasn’t urgent and hungry like his many others had been. This one was different, although she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. It still hinted at physical need, but it also resonated with something else…something emotional. He lifted her off the hood and set her on her feet. “Grab your 65
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clothes, but don’t put them back on yet.” “Wh—at?” He smiled. “You’ll see.” Oh, Lord. When he smiled like that…
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CHAPTER 5
Elizabeth snagged her clothes and shoes, while Miguel slung his gun holster over his shoulder, tucked his gun back into it, and picked up his shirt from the ground. Then he swung her up in his arms, and she cried out in surprise and protest. But he just smiled again as he strode through the stall and outside. “Trust me.” God help me, I do. “But what about the others? They might come back…” “I don’t think so. By the time they left, they were barely speaking. She wanted him to take her home, and he acted like he couldn’t wait to get rid of her. It was a fluke, I think, that they happened on this place today. I’ve been coming here for months and have never seen another soul.” He shut the barn door behind them, hiding the Explorer once more from view, and carried her deeper into the little side canyon. The way was littered with boulders, but he didn’t seem to mind her weight as he 67
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crossed over and through them. The late afternoon sun was breaking through the patchy gray clouds, and although the storm had cooled things off, the sun was warm on her skin. So was Miguel’s bare chest. The sound of water trickling came to her, then, after another minute, she realized it wasn’t a trickle so much as a rush. They emerged into a tiny clearing next to the red canyon wall. And falling over the rocks and into a small pool, was a waterfall. “It’s beautiful! I never would have guessed this was here.” He set her down next to the pool, and she clutched her clothes to her like a shield, suddenly feeling exposed in the glaring light of day. “There’s something else you probably won’t have guessed either.” He stripped off his boots, jeans and boxer briefs. Completely uninhibited by his own magnificent nudity, he held out his hand. He smiled, his straight teeth glinting white in the sunlight. “Come on. Nothing out here is going to bite you.” She gritted her teeth at the reminder of their conversation earlier today and wondered how much of his creepy crawly story was true. “You just told me those things on the drive out here to scare me, didn’t you?” He laughed, and held up his hands in self defense. “I did tell you to scare you, yes. But everything I said was the truth. I swear.” “Right. But, miraculously, there’s nothing in this particular canyon that’ll bite me?” He tugged her clothes out her hands, and she only let go of them reluctantly, to keep them from ripping in a tug of war. “There is nothing in this pool that will bite you.” He picked her up again, and his gaze grew steamy. “Except maybe something of the human variety who might find you tasty.” He walked into the pool, submersing them both. “It’s warm!” She’d been expecting to feel the icy sting of cold water, but instead, bath-temperature ripples lapped over her skin. 68
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“Hot spring.” Miguel let her slide down his body—every protruding inch of his body—until her feet settled on the sandy bottom of the pool. “I thought you might appreciate the opportunity to wash up.” He traced a finger down her chest and circled each of her breasts, which seemed to float like white globes in the water. She quivered at the memory of his seed hitting her and running in rivulets over her breasts and onto her stomach. His eyes glinted with heat and she knew he was remembering it, too. “I liked it,” she whispered. “Feeling and seeing your come on me.” “I did, too. I liked it a hell of a lot.” His hand slid from her waist down into her pussy, swirling the warm-almost-hot water around her folds, and finding her tender but still needy clit. She cried out softly and he swallowed it with a kiss. “But next time…” His voice was a scorching breath against her lips. “…I plan to be buried deep inside you when I lose it.” “Oh, God,” she whispered. Her eyes closed and she clung to him, her arms around his neck, as his words and his energetic finger…two fingers…made her his slave. “Damn, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of watching you like this. I’m so hard again I can’t think.” He grasped one of her hands and brought it down to feel his pulsing erection. “Do you know what I want to do with my cock right now?” She moaned and shook her head. “I want to thrust it into every sweet orifice in your body and fill you with my seed. And I want you to know, as you feel it dripping out of you, that it’s mine, that I’m the one who put it there, inside you, in places no one else can touch. And that from this day on no one else will ever be able to satisfy you like I can.” His voice had grown hoarse, filled with intensity. Elizabeth groaned in pleasure, knowing she’d never in her life felt like this, and no one else could ever compare to him. 69
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“Do you want that, Beth? Do you want to feel me in all your tight, hot places?” “God, yes.” “Are you feeling good right now?” “Yes!” She was close. So close. “I don’t want to you to come until I say so. Not a moment before. You hear me?” “Miguel!” “Not a moment before I say, Elizabeth.” She nodded, her eyes still squeezed tightly closed as she concentrated on controlling her body, which had other ideas, and was moments from ecstasy. “Not yet.” His fingers played her like a master, and that familiar floating euphoria held her in its grasp as effectively as he did in his hands. “That’s right. Don’t give in yet.” “Can’t…” she gasped, her muscles rigid with the building waves. “You can.” “No, I can’t!” Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to focus on his face through her dizziness. “Damn it! You t-touch me like this, you bring me to the edge…and then you expect me to stop it just because you say so?” His slow seductive smile both infuriated and stirred her barely restrained hunger to the breaking point. “Now.” “Now?” she cried. “Come now.” The earthquake that tore through made her see stars—literally. Bright, sparkling, white lights behind her eyelids. When at last it was over, she could barely stay on her feet. Miguel dunked under the water and emerged dripping. He curved an arm around her and swam deeper into the pool. She held on to him 70
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and let him do most of the work. She’d spent most of her summers on the Cape, and was a strong swimmer. But right now she was still so trembly and weak she doubted she could dog paddle. They bobbed in the center of the pool, her legs wrapped around his waist, and him treading water. She leaned back, half-floating, letting her hair spread out around her on the water’s surface. The sun beat down on them, and a feeling of warm contentment spread through her. “How are your hands?” he asked. The cuts stung a bit in the water, but overall they didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as they had last night. “Not too bad.” “I don’t know what happened between you and your fiancé,” he said quietly, watching her, “but he was a damn fool to let you go.” She sat up and dragged in a deep breath. “I let him go. He…” She winced. Miguel probably didn’t give a damn about hers and Lionel’s relationship. “Go on. He what?” Surprised, she realized he was listening. Really listening to her. “Sometimes it’s better to just talk about it. Get it out so it doesn’t fester inside you.” “I know.” A deep sigh slid up from her aching heart. “I just can’t believe how stupid I was. Yesterday I found out he wasn’t interested in just me. That he wasn’t interested in just…women.” She gazed at the waterfall and tried to get her breathing to work right. “He took me to his suite at the hotel, told me he had something special planned for the evening. There was champagne, soft music…all the trappings for a romantic seduction. After I’d undressed, he had me lay on the bed. He blindfolded me and tied my arms to the headboard with silk scarves. He’d never done anything like that before—we’d never played any games like that. It made me uncomfortable, which should have been a huge red flag, but like an idiot, I let him do it.” Miguel stroked her wet hair, but he didn’t press. 71
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“He touched me…at least I thought it was him touching me. But it wasn’t until I felt the mouth on me down there…not Lionel’s mouth… I panicked, jerk my hands free…” “The marks on your wrists,” Miguel said. He brought them each to his lips for a gentle kiss. The simple action spoke reams, and for a moment she couldn’t talk for the lump in her throat that had nothing to do with Lionel this time. Chalk another one up in Miguel’s “too good to be true” column. “When I pulled off the blindfold I found this other man between my legs, and Lionel behind him with his prick…” She swallowed back stinging tears and shrugged. “Well, I’m sure you get the picture.” “El Chingado!” Miguel muttered. He had tight lines around his mouth, and a dangerous spark in his eyes. “Is that a bad word?” “I said he’s a fucker. He should never have deceived you or let another man touch you.” Make that two marks in a row in his “good” column. “He explained to me that he’d always liked to be with men, but that he wanted to be with me, too, wanted to marry me. He hoped we could ‘work something out.’ I knew right then that the truth was, even though I think he genuinely liked me and we got along well, he wanted to marry me as a cover. So his father, the senator, and his upstanding colleagues at the law firm where he works would never suspect he was gay or bisexual or whatever. I guess at first he probably thought he could hide it from me, too, but then the pressure got to be too much, so he decided to let me in on it, two days before our wedding.” Miguel shook his head and his jaw clenched, causing a weak smile to curve Elizabeth’s lips. “I appreciate your anger on my behalf.” Then she frowned. “You know, in truth I really don’t have an issue with Lionel preferring men, or liking both men and women. What hurts the most is that I thought, if 72
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nothing else, we were friends. He should have just told me. Of course I wouldn’t have married him then, and that would have defeated his whole plan to blend in with his conservative peers. But the sneaky way he planned out that whole scenario, with him tricking me into a ménage, letting another man… I really hate him for that.” “You have every right to.” “I gave him his engagement ring back, went to my room, took probably the longest hot shower of my life, threw on some clothes and left. I don’t even think he tried to follow me. Some hero, huh?” “And then you ended your already miserable night by getting shot at in a bar, and being kidnapped and mauled by a smelly, lecherous fuck-up,” Miguel said with a sigh. He kissed her with that same gentleness he had earlier. “I am truly sorry you’re in this situation.” At the reminder of her situation, all her fears and confusion came rushing back. Miguel was…she didn’t know what he was. That was part of the problem. At times he was a man to die for—sexy, a generous lover, a good listener, protective, strong. But then all the practical stuff reared its ugly head. Like the fact Ramirez and Christo, the horrible slimy creatures they were, worked for him. And that he was obviously the leader of a gang. A gang who was at war with…what? A drug lord? Did that mean Miguel was a drug lord, too? Oh, God. What was she doing? “Don’t over think it, Elizabeth. It’s not all what it seems.” “Then what is it? Please, tell me. I’m dying to hear because from where I sit, I can’t find a way to make this okay. I can’t find a way to make it all right for you and me to…for what’s happened…what’s happening between us.” A scowl furrowed his forehead and he stared over her shoulder for long moments. Finally, he said, “We should get going. Even this late, the sun can still be strong enough to burn you.” But he didn’t meet her 73
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gaze. Her heart sank. He’d just shut her out again. They swam back to shore, and her misery was complete when he waded out, handed her her clothes, then turned his back to give her privacy while she dressed. A half-hour ago she couldn’t imagine him doing such a thing. His heated gaze would have been all over her. And, damn it, she wanted that! Okay, reality check here. What kind of supreme stupidity would you call this? She didn’t know what exactly Miguel and his “men” did, but she knew it couldn’t be legal. Not with the moral fiber Ramirez and Christo exhibited—kidnapping, rape, murder all seemed to be in a day’s work for them. And in spite of the fact Miguel himself hadn’t shown the same traits around her, a normal, law-abiding citizen didn’t lead a gang like the psycho duo, nor did he carry a gun on him all the time, which Miguel absolutely did. Yet even knowing all this, here she was, practically throwing herself at him, loving every second he spent touching her, and, worse, wanting to believe in him. Wanting to don her infamous rose-colored glasses again and only see the good parts she wanted to see. There had to be something wrong with her. Some kind of…brain damage or emotional muck-up that was causing her to behave this way. As she fastened her sandals, a sigh escaped her. She knew, logically, she was in no position to make rational decisions about what she wanted. She’d experienced too much crap over the past two days. She needed to concentrate on getting herself out of here. Needed to put her head back in charge and quit rushing in like a fool with her heart. But even knowing what she should do, no amount of righteous lecturing from her conscience could stop what she felt every time she looked at Miguel. Nor could she stop keeping tally. And whether her uppity conscience liked it or not, right now he had more marks in his plus column than his minus column. Okay, yes, the minuses were 74
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biggies. Quit kidding yourself, you fool. They’re gigantic. “I know,” she mumbled. She felt Miguel behind her before she heard or saw him. His long fingers curled around her upper arm, and she turned to face him. He, too, was now dressed, complete with the ever-present gun against his back. His expressive eyes were shadowed. His jaw clenched and released as, she was learning, it did when he was upset. “Just say it,” she told him, her heart suddenly choking her. “I know you don’t want to be here. When it’s safe, I’ll get you back to civilization.” “When it’s safe? Miguel, you carry a gun for a living. People shoot at your men and for all I know, you, too. When exactly is anything about you or what you do or what you’re involved in ‘safe’? I mean, are we talking days? Weeks? Months? Am I just supposed to take it on faith that everything will eventually work out okay?” She shook her head in frustration. “And not only that, but do you honestly think my dad’s not going to have every cop and federal investigator out looking for me the moment he realizes I’ve disappeared? Then, on top of whatever shit you’re involved in, you’re going to be wanted for kidnapping and you’re going to have agents breathing down your neck.” His jaw tightened again. “Unfortunately, there are events already in motion that are a hell of a lot more dangerous. I know you don’t like hearing this, but Galista sent men after you, Elizabeth.” “Not this again! I gave you every little detail of my life the past two days. Please tell me how me meeting the caterer or going shopping ticked off some bad guy? Miguel…” She huffed out a breath and held up her hands. “Look at me. I run a bookstore in Boston. The most adventurous thing I do in my life is decide whether to wear my hair down or in a ponytail when I stand in 75
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front of the mirror each morning. What you see is what you get. I have no deep dark secrets or hidden lives. I’m just me. A regular, boring girl from Massachusetts, who leads what most people probably think is a terribly boring life.” She stopped as the sobs she’d been fighting off for two days threatened again, except this time she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to hold them back. She turned away, not wanting Miguel to see her give in to weakness. But he didn’t give her that privacy. He tugged her into his arms. “There is nothing even remotely boring about you. You’re a hell of a woman, Elizabeth Sandringham.” At that, the dam broke. She buried her face in his chest and burst into tears.
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CHAPTER 6
Miguel held her and let her cry. She’d been a trooper up to this point as far as he was concerned. Considering everything she’d been through, it was a wonder she hadn’t dissolved into a quivering wreck hours ago. But he was learning that for all her soft looks and softspoken words, Elizabeth had an amazing internal strength that a lot of men he knew could learn something from. She was— Don’t go there. He couldn’t help but go there, damn it. She was everything a man could ever want in the woman he decided to settle down and spend forever with. She was breathtaking—her natural beauty with no need for cosmetics, her real-woman curves, her open yet surprisingly guileless eroticism. He still felt dizzy every time he thought about the sight of her in the barn, her eyes half-closed with pleasure, and her breasts glistening with his freshly spent seed. Christ. But she also 77
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reached him on a very different level. She was smart, he suspected from little hints he’d seen that she had a good sense of humor, she was genuine, honest, and then there was that amazing strength. He’d sworn off women, love, and relationships years ago and had never been tempted since. But in one day, Elizabeth was making him wonder if there might be hope for him yet. As it had a bad habit of doing, however, reality pressed in again. She thought he was a criminal, and, for now, it was best if she kept thinking it. With her honest nature, if he told her the truth, should the need arise for her to be around his men or, God forbid, Galista’s men again, she’d never be able to pull it off. She’d do something to give the truth away…a look at him, a word, something. And then they’d both be dead. No, it was best if her responses were genuine, if, in spite of her attraction to him, she kept thinking he was scum. Damn, it ate at his craw to let her continue to believe that, but at the moment, he didn’t see a better option. Right now, no matter how good she felt in his arms, he knew his only focus had to be on getting her out of here alive and finishing his job. “It’s going to be all right,” he murmured, stroking her hair as her sobs turned to sniffles. “Is it?” Her voice was hoarse from crying. “Before you know it you’ll be back in your bookstore, ringing up sales, and making your customers happy. Of course you’ll never make the grouchy ones happy. The ones who always want something you don’t have and can’t possibly get because it’s not made anymore, and somehow they decide it’s your fault. Bitch, bitch, bitch, nag, nag, nag.” A quiet, teary laugh came from the vicinity of his chest, which was exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for. “I have one of those who’s a regular. I can’t figure out why he keeps coming back because we never have what he wants—weird stuff 78
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like Severin’s Eclectic Guide to Sheepherding, or The Manual of Radioisotope Thermoelectric Blankets or something. He always leaves pissy. But two days later, there he is again, coming through the door with some other bizarre request.” She swiped the back of her hand across her face and finally looked up at him. The sight of her red-rimmed eyes tore at Miguel’s heart. “How do you know so much about pissy customers?’ she asked, a small smile turning up the corners of those sexy, sexy lips. He caught himself just in time before he answered honestly. “Probably because I’ve been one of them a time or two.” He tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s getting late and we should get out of here.” She took a deep breath and nodded, and once again he admired her ability to pull herself together in a difficult situation. A woman worth hanging on to. If only life were that simple. *
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They were almost to the barn—less than a hundred meters from it— when the sound of vehicles coming down the rutted path filled Elizabeth’s ears. “Run!” Miguel ordered. She’d been trailing him, but he stopped and motioned her forward, even as he drew his gun. His face had that hard look she’d seen him use with his men last night. Without hesitation, she broke into a run toward the barn. The sound of vehicles grew closer and her terrified heart raced a marathon. Another thirty feet and they’d be there, but she knew they weren’t going to make it before they were seen. Miguel grabbed her arm and nearly whipped her off her feet as he pulled her behind an outcropping of large rocks just a second before an extended cab truck slid around a curve and stopped. A battered SUV 79
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followed. She could see through a thin crack between the boulders that three men had emerged from the first vehicle. It looked like one or two remained in the second. She couldn’t quite make out the features of the group that walked toward the barn. “Fuck,” Miguel muttered under his breath, watching. “The recording. They can’t get it.” Elizabeth tried to make sense of his words. Then she remembered…the pack under the front seat in the Explorer. She’d been right. He had a camera out on the mesa and he didn’t want them to get the tape or DVD or whatever it was he’d retrieved. “I’ve got to keep them out of the barn.” He closed his eyes, a look of angry frustration on his face as if he were torn about what to do. Then, with another grumbled curse, he lifted his gun above his head and fired it. “Oh, God! They’re going to find us and we’re going to die!” she whispered. She squeezed her eyes closed, unable to watch what would happen. It was all she could do to breathe and not run screaming like a kid. “Delgado!” a deep voice bellowed. “No need to have problems here. You know what we want,” it said in slightly accented English. “Give us the woman and we’ll call it square.” Elizabeth’s eyes flew open and her heart stopped. She looked at Miguel, but he had his attention focused on the men and didn’t notice her shock. They wanted her? Had Miguel been right all along? But why? Why? “My men found her in El Piojo. They took her as a play thing,” Miguel called. “After they’d had their way with her, I got my turn. She’s nothing but a useless white woman. What would Galista want with her?” Elizabeth tried not to let the “useless” comment go to her heart— she knew, or at least hoped, Miguel was only saying it to make her 80
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seem unimportant. “Galista has reasons that are none of your business. Just turn her over and we’ll let you go your way. No harm done, and Galista will still give consideration to your proposal. Galista is aware you’d like to work for the cartel.” “Sí. But I do have to wonder what importance a white woman could have. Why should I turn esta mujer over with nothing but a promise my proposal will be considered? If Galista wants her, then I’m thinking Galista will be happy to pay well for her. A contract for me to transport heroin into the United States, plus a healthy amount for expenses. Say…three hundred thousand dollars?” Heroin? Three hundred thousand dollars? Elizabeth felt sick to her stomach. So Miguel was in the drug business. Would he really trade her for money and a chance to take drugs over the border? The other man, the one who appeared to be the designated talker, laughed. It was a cold sound that sent a chill up Elizabeth’s spine. “You insult Galista, Delgado! Here’s another deal, one you’d be smart to take. You turn over the woman, and Galista lets you live.” Miguel glanced at her, his eyes burning with intensity, yet she couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling. Fear coursed through her veins like ice. Oh, God. Was he going to give her to the men? “I’m going to hold them off while you make a run for the barn,” he whispered. Her heart stopped. She shook her head. “No. No! I can’t. They’ll shoot. There are too many of them.” “Listen to me! I won’t let them have you or hurt you. You understand? But you’ve got to do what I say. Our only chance of getting out of here is to get to the vehicle in the barn.” Dizziness swept over her brought on by sheer terror. He cupped her cheek. His eyes pleaded with her. “I’ll get you out of here. Trust me.” When he suddenly kissed her, her emotions scattered 81
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into chaos. “Delgado?” the bellowing voice called. “Make your choice!” “When I tell you, you run as fast as you can to the barn and get in the Explorer. I’ll be right behind you.” Elizabeth sucked in a shaky breath. There were too many of them and only Miguel with one gun. I don’t want to die! But, finally, seeing no other choice, she nodded. “Good girl.” He gave her a half-smile, but it lasted only a split second, then the stony mask settled over his face again. “I’m thinking I’m not real crazy about this deal,” he yelled. “If Galista wants this woman, then I expect to be paid for her.” There was a scuffle out beyond the rocks, and another voice piped up. “Tell them what you were doing out here in the first place, so close to Galista’s territory, boss! I followed you today, saw you up on that mesa. I’m sure Galista will be very interested in knowing what you were doing up there.” Elizabeth recognized the voice instantly—Ramirez! She look at Miguel, but he seemed unflustered by this turn of events. “Come out, little rabbit!” Ramirez called. “Come out and let Ramirez show you how to scream with pleasure.” “I’m tired of talking,” Miguel shouted. “Back off and take my message to Galista saying I want payment for the woman. Or suffer the consequences.” A round of laughter was the only response. Miguel looked at her. “On the count of three, run.” Then, without giving her time to argue, he held up one finger. A second. A third. He stepped out from behind the rock and fired his weapon. Elizabeth, fighting the urge to pass out, ran for it. Gunshots zinged all around her, at least it felt like it, and she knew any second one was going to hit her. Her heart pounded, her lungs squeezed from raw terror, but she continued to put one foot in front of the other until the stall door 82
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loomed ahead. It slid open a foot for her and she squeezed through it, made her way between the wall and the SUV, opened the passenger door, and dove inside. The driver’s door popped open and Miguel slid into the seat. He shoved his key in the ignition and revved the vehicle to life. “Hold on,” he growled. He slammed the shifter to reverse and gunned the engine just as the door was thrown wide open and two men entered. She couldn’t tell whether they moved out of the way in time or not, but she didn’t hear any thumps, and Miguel plowed onward without giving them a second glance. The Explorer spun when he hit the brake, throwing up dirt, then he shifted, floored it again, and they shot forward. The front end clipped the front of the big truck on the way by, but suddenly they were bouncing up the rutted path at an alarming rate of speed. Elizabeth clutched the seat and tried to breath. She couldn’t seem to drag any air into her lungs. When they reached the dirt road, Miguel swung right and their speed increased. More shots were fired, and a cling echoed through the vehicle. “Fuck!” Miguel reached behind him, threw off a blanket that had been covering objects in the rear seat, and pulled a rifle up in the front with them. “Take the wheel,” he ordered. “What?” she squeaked. “Take the wheel. Slide in under me and drive.” “I…” “Damn it, Beth! Just do it!” While he powered down the driver’s window, she took the wheel in her cold hands, dragged herself over the console between the seats, and, as he lifted himself up to sit on the edge of the window, facing back the 83
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way they’d come, she moved into the seat and put her foot on the gas. She barely fit into the tight space with his long legs pressed up against the door. “Head for the highway,” he yelled. Keeping her eyes locked straight ahead, she tried her damnedest to ignore the quick shots he fired from the semi-automatic rifle. Tried not to think about the shots that were being fired at them. Every now and then one would ping the SUV, and at one point the back window shattered. But her body had gone into auto-pilot mode, while her brain tuned out. Just keep driving. Keep driving. With her foot pressed nearly to the floor on the gas pedal, and her hands steering out of pure instinct, that’s exactly what she did. It felt like an eternity. In truth, she had no idea how much time passed. All she knew was that each minute that went by she was still alive. And that’s all that counted. Miguel let off another spitting round of gunfire, and a moment later she thought she heard a crash. All was silent except the sound of the engine whining and the Explorer bouncing up the dirt road at break-neck speed. She didn’t dare look at Miguel, look behind her. At long last, she saw Miguel’s hand come down on the steering wheel. “Slide over.” His voice was low and oddly calm after everything that had happened. She heard him, but couldn’t move. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Slide over. I can take it from here.” The endearment caused a tiny crack in the protective veneer she’d raised around herself. Her hands began to shake, her breath rattled out of her. Slowly, she inched up and to the right, but kept her foot on the gas until he eased into the seat and took over. 84
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He slowed the vehicle a bit, but not much. Elizabeth continued to gasp air into her tight lungs and fight the numbness that wanted to swallow her. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Are you hurt at all?” She shook her head as she stared straight ahead. “No. I’m…I’m okay, I think. What about them? Are they…?” “Stopped for now. But we have to find a place to disappear because as soon as they can get reinforcements, they’ll be looking for us.” They’d reached the highway and he turned left, the opposite direction from which they’d come. He stepped on the gas, and Elizabeth watched as the speedometer crept up to sixty, seventy, eighty, and finally settled somewhere around ninety. “Ramirez…?” “Was never trustworthy. I figured he’d betray me eventually. I just didn’t know when.” “They really wanted me. Why, Miguel? I don’t understand. I’m just a regular person.” His fingers closed around hers and squeezed gently. “I’ve told you, I suspect you saw or heard something Galista is concerned about. Think back again, all the way to when you first arrived in Acapulco. There has to be something.” “I’ve been in Mexico five days. I can’t think of anything. Nothing. I’ve just done normal stuff.” Her voice grew breathless and highpitched as panic swept through her. “I…I haven’t seen or heard anything…” “Shhh. There’s got to be something. Relax and think, and maybe it will come to you.” She closed her eyes, hoping for an epiphany. But as the miles slid behind them and the evening wore on, her jumbled brain offered nothing. She must have dozed off because when she opened her eyes the 85
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orangey-red glow of sunset curled around the vehicle, and they were driving in the mountains. “Where are we?” “Disappearing. I know of a place we can stay for the night.” His voice sounded quiet, too quiet, causing Elizabeth to turn and really look at him for the first time since they’d escaped. His complexion, usually a deep tan, was pale, and there were squinty lines radiating out from his eyes and mouth. “Are you okay?” He gave her a quick glance. “Fine.” But she saw pain his eyes…those expressive brown eyes. “No, you’re not. Let me see.” She leaned closer and discovered blood on the left side of his shirt and lap—dried, and fresh rivulets. “Oh, my God! Miguel! You were hit. Where?” “My arm. It’ll be okay.” Again, his voice was unnaturally quiet. “Maybe, but you’ve lost a lot of blood. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She searched around but could find nothing besides the ratty wool blanket in back to use to stop the bleeding. Finally, she jerked her Tshirt up and over her head. “What are you doing?” He glanced at her again and his eyes widened when he saw her bare breasts.” “Helping you.” She leaned across the console to get a better look at his arm. It just had to be his left one, so there was no easy way to get to it while he was driving. “Can you move it at all? Maybe a little closer to me?” She thought she heard him muffle a groan as he eased it toward her. Using one section of the shirt, she wiped away as much blood as she could until she had a better view of the actual wound. Oh, Lord. His gray shirt had a gaping hole in the sleeve between his shoulder and bicep and she could see the red, jagged skin where the bullet had 86
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entered. When she touched it, a fresh wave of blood rushed from it. She pressed the shirt against it and held it there, putting pressure on it. He grimaced, and she saw his jaw tighten, but he didn’t complain. “We’ve got to get you some help. You need a doctor.” “No doctors around here. I’ll be okay. We’re almost to…” His words faded out. “Miguel. You’re—” “We’re almost there. I’ll be all right.” He turned off the winding road and followed a dirt one that zigzagged straight up. Elizabeth could tell it was taking all his energy to concentrate on driving, which was the only reason she kept her mouth shut and didn’t continue to nag him. But she was scared. He didn’t look good. He’d lost a lot of blood, and she suspected he was close to passing out. She continued to hold the T-shirt against the wound in his arm, and said several prayers that he wouldn’t black out while they were in one of the steep hairpin turns that seemed to be the norm on this skinny road. Finally, they pulled up to a dark log cabin that sat back in amongst the trees. Miguel drove the Explorer around behind it and parked near the back door. “What is this place?” she asked, eyeing it cautiously. The windows were dark and no one appeared to be home. “My cousin Javier’s place. He’s in the States for a couple of months so it’s empty. No one even knows we’re related, so Galista won’t have a clue to look here.” He tugged his arm way from Elizabeth to open his door, but the look of pain on his face had her throwing hers open, and running around to his side to help him. “I’m not an invalid,” he growled when she wrapped an arm around him to help him out. When he slung his long legs out of the vehicle and tried to stand, 87
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however, he swayed. She took as much of his weight on her as she could, but he was tall. And lean though he appeared to be, his flesh was all muscle, which meant he was heavy. “Damn,” he mumbled. “I don’t feel great.” “No shit. Come on, lean on me.” She helped him up the handful of steps to the back door, but it was locked. “Key?” “There should be one under the flower pot.” His words sounded slightly slurred. She propped him against the door and picked up several empty clay pots before finding the right one. After working the key into the knob, she pushed open the door with her foot, and wrapped an arm around Miguel’s waist again. The inside of the cabin appeared to be one big room. In the fading twilight, she couldn’t quite make out where everything was. She thought she saw a kitchen area to her right, and a fireplace in front of her. “Where’s the bed?” “Left,” he said, obviously having trouble getting out that much. She managed to maneuver him across the room, find the double wooden bedstead, and get him mostly on it before he lost consciousness.
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CHAPTER 7
Miguel awoke in darkness. Or near-darkness anyway—a dim light burned somewhere nearby. As he blinked scratchy eyes and swallowed past the cottony feel in his throat, he turned his head to sort out where he was. He realized he was lying in bed—he had a vague memory of falling into it before blacking out. Elizabeth. A rush of relief surged through him at the sight of her sitting in a chair next to him. She wore his black button-up shirt he’d given her earlier in the day, and had it tucked around her drawn-up, jean-clad knees. Her soft hand smoothed over his forehead and cheek. “How’re you feeling?” “I’ll live. How long was I out?” “A couple of hours. You lost so much blood you fainted.” “Men don’t faint,” he grumbled. He tried to lift his arm, and did, a 89
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few inches, but the dull ache in it warned him not to push too hard too fast. He was bare-chested and realized his upper arm was wrapped in bandages. “Did the bullet go all the way through?” “No. But I got it out.” He whipped his head back toward her and stared. “You what?” She shrugged and gave him a weak smile that squeezed his heart. “I could see it. And you were passed out anyway, so I figured I might as well try. It came right out.” She picked up a cup from the bedside table and shook it. A metallic jingle came from inside it. “The worst part was getting the bleeding stopped. I… Well, I finally had to do something that was…” Miguel understood, and a rush of gratitude and amazement filled him at her ability to cope in a tough situation. “You cauterized it?” She nodded. “But I don’t want to talk about it.” A tremor shook her, and he had the sudden urge to pull her close. He started to reach for her, but then it hit him. “Why are you still here?” Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?” A glance at the table next to the bed confirmed what he’d noticed moments earlier when she’d lifted the cup with the slug in it. His gun and cell phone lay side by side. “I was out cold. You found my phone. All you had to do if you wanted to get out of here was call your dad. Or the Mexican feds. They would have come to get you and you’d be back in your father’s arms by now.” He watched a myriad of emotions cross her face, as if she were coming to terms with something or trying to decide what to say to him. “I couldn’t leave you like this,” she finally whispered. “You were hurt and if I called anyone, they’d find you and then you’d get arrested. And I couldn’t live with that. I can’t stand the thought of you being locked up in some jail or prison.” 90
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Miguel’s chest tightened with emotion. The little fool. She thought he was a criminal, so she’d given up her own chance at freedom in order to save his. “You could have left, taken the Explorer.” “I told you, I couldn’t leave. I didn’t want to leave. I just…I just need to be here with you. And besides, you said even if I went back to Acapulco Galista’s men would find me.” “The feds could have protected you.” “So can you,” she said simply. “Not when I’m unconscious, damn it.” He didn’t know why he was arguing. He was so glad she was still here he was almost giddy. She smiled, and it was a gentle gleam of light in the otherwise gray room. “You’re kind of an argumentative patient, aren’t you?” “And you’re a stubborn nurse,” he growled, but he couldn’t seem to get any real irritation behind it. “Here…” She picked up two tablets from the table, along with a glass of water. “Take these.” “What are they?” “Pain relief.” “No way. The last damned thing I need is to be drugged.” “They’re not narcotics. Just ibuprofen.” She lifted his head, put the tablets in his mouth, and held the glass while he swallowed some water. “Now go back to sleep for a while,” she ordered. “I’m not tired.” “Humor me.” It was the last thing he remembered. At least until he next woke up, again in the semi-darkness. He finally realized the dim light was burning in the bathroom. Elizabeth wasn’t in the chair next to the bed this time, and worry shot through him. Where was she and was she okay? But then he heard a sigh next to him. He turned over, careful not to jar his arm, although it was feeling considerably better now than it had 91
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earlier. What he saw brought a smile to his face. Elizabeth was curled onto her side, her head on the pillow next to his, sound asleep. Damn she was a sight. And she smelled wonderful—slightly soapy with a faint hint of spice. Not her usual scent, but still nice. She’d obviously taken a shower before she came to bed. Her hair was damp, and the dark waves spread out on the pillow around her. He stroked a few strands off her forehead. She stirred, stretching her lithe body. “What time is it?” she asked without opening her eyes. Miguel looked at his watch. “Two in the morning.” “It’s June twenty-first. This was supposed to be my wedding day.” A punch to the gut couldn’t have caught him more off guard, or caused such an ache. Here he was getting drunk at the sight and smell of her next to him, and she was thinking of her ruined wedding. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.” Her eyes fluttered open, and, for a moment, time seemed to stop. The look she gave him was mesmerizing, sending hope, and heat, flooding through him. “I’m not. I never felt with Lionel the things I feel when I’m with you. I’ve never felt them with anyone but you.” “Like?” His heart throbbed in anticipation of her next words. “Like how you really listen to me when I talk. How you make me feel beautiful.” “You are beautiful.” “How you make me hot and quivery all over when you look at me…like you’re doing right now.” He barely dared to breath. He was feeling hot and quivery himself at the moment. “And how I feel safe with you. How I trust you.” Miguel knew right then he’d tell her everything. He wanted to be 92
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worthy of her trust. With Ramirez’s betrayal and Galista soon to find, if he hadn’t already, his surveillance camera on the mesa, there was no more need to pretend. His cover was blown to hell. He needed, and wanted, Elizabeth to know the truth. And then he just had to hope she wouldn’t hate him for misleading her. God knows she had every reason to hate him after what she’d been through the past two days. “There are some things I want you to know, Elizabeth.” She put her fingers over his lips. “There are some things I need to know. But right now I just really want you to kiss me.” “Kiss you?” “No, not just kiss…” Her breathing came out in soft rasps, and he could almost smell arousal mixing with her freshly-showered scent. “I want you to do all those things to me you said you wanted to do out at the hot spring.” Fuck. Boiling blood rushed through his veins with a ferocity he’d never experienced in all his thirty-six years. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” “Yes.” He stroked his thumb over her lips, and lowered his mouth to hers. Then he pulled her on top of him and slid his hands up under his shirt she wore, discovering, with another jolt of lust, that she wore absolutely nothing else. His palms fondled the soft curves of her ass, and she responded with a quiver. “You’re not wearing any underwear,” he growled. “I only have the one stupid pair I don’t even like, and I have to wash them sometime.” “I might get rid of the damned things completely if it means you’ll always come to bed like this.” He tugged the shirt off, exposing every inch of her skin to his hungry touch. “Or even better, maybe I’ll just get rid of all your clothes and keep you this way—naked.” “Maybe I’ll do the same to you.” She sat up, unfastened his jeans, 93
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and, in a smooth movement, pulled them and his briefs down his legs and tossed them aside. His twitching cock jutted upward, already hard. Their gazes locked. “We still have the issue of no protection.” “Actually…” She leaned over to the bedside table and held up a strip of foil packages. “Your cousin seems to have come through for us in more ways than one.” Miguel laughed. “I see you did some industrious snooping while I was unconscious.” “A girl does what she can.” She gave him a dimpled smile that set his balls to aching and filled him with a warmth inside he hadn’t ever known. “You’re injured,” she said, “so you’d better let me do the work for now.” With another one of those sweet yet completely naughty smiles, she lowered her head to his groin. He couldn’t hold back a moan when her tongue, hot and wet, stroked over the head of his cock, then worked its way downward, laving him from tip to root. She bathed his balls, then slowly licked her way back to the top, only to start the process all over again. By the time she’d played with his testicles a second time and returned to his crown, he was slick and throbbing and desperate to test the depths of that wondrous mouth. When she finally sucked his length deep into her throat, he grasped her head, dug his fingers into her unruly curls, and pulled her closer. A groan tore out of him. She seemed to know exactly what to do to bring him maximum pleasure. Yet at the same time there was almost an innocence about her touch that filled him with a protective possessiveness. His brain began to blank out, brain cell by brain cell, his shaft tingled and pulsed, and her incredible mouth became the only point of existence in his world. But at the last minute, before he was too far 94
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gone to stop, he pulled her up. “Not yet. I told you where I plan to be the next time I come.” He rolled over and took her with him until she lay on her back. With her arms up over her head and her legs spread, it was all he could do not to thrust into her right then. But the sight of her pussy spread open to him as it had been in the barn was a temptation he couldn’t pass up. He moved between her legs and burrowed a finger between her labia, shocked at just how wet she was. She closed her eyes and a soft moan escaped her. “You like that?” “Yes.” “Want more?” “You know I do.” He stroked his fingers over her pussy lips, circled her clit, then plunged them deep into her cunt. She cried out. “More?” “Oh, yes…” This time it was breathless gasp, and he smiled. He lowered his head to her sweet-scented crease and, with his fingers still working inside her, teased his tongue through her steamy folds. She squirmed against him, but he had no intention of making it too easy for her. They had all night. With her pussy dripping cream, he used that to his advantage. Even as he continue to taste her, he nudged his thumb into her vagina, and moved his wet fingers lower, sliding them over and around her anus until she bucked against him and begged. Only then, when her softly panted, “Please, please,” filled his head, did he ease his middle finger into her tight, sinfully hot passage. After giving her body time to adjust, and feeling her muscles relax, he slowly pressed a second finger in to join the first, spreading her, stretching her, preparing her for the much bigger pleasures he hoped to give her later. 95
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As he did that, he sucked on the firm bud of her clit. She came hard, her back arching off the bed, both her openings clamping down against his hand. He withdrew his mouth, letting her climax take her, growing more aroused himself simply by watching her find her heaven. When she’d collapsed to the bed, he began moving his fingers and thumb again, wanting to bring her back to the summit at least once more, for the sheer pleasure of it…hers and his. He’d learned in the barn how damned responsive she was, and how easily she could have multiple orgasms if he gave her a chance. Knowing she was getting close again, he probed her swollen nub with his tongue, and within seconds, she shattered again, sobbing his name over and over. Miguel didn’t know if it was the sobs, his name, or both that did it, but something inside him tore lose. And he realized, with a drunken sense of shock, that for the first time in many long years, he was free of the old anger and hurt left over from Rosalinda’s betrayal. He felt…cleansed. Ready to live, and love, again. He smiled as he moved up over Elizabeth’s limp, sated body and pressed a kiss to her parted lips. “Do you still want me inside you?” Her eyes opened, and the hunger he saw in them was answer enough even before she spoke. “Yes. Always.” He ripped open one of the packages on the table and rolled the condom onto his so-stiff-it-ached cock. Then he positioned himself so the tip pressed gently against her slippery flesh. “Always?” Her gaze burned into his. She grasped his ass cheeks in her hands and pulled him toward her. “Always.” Inch by inch, her squeezing tunnel swallowed his engorged, throbbing penis. When he was fully seated, neither of them moved. Her core gripped him, tugged him, held him tight. So tight he grew lightheaded at how spectacularly good it felt, at how perfectly they fit together. 96
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When at last he moved, she moved with him. When he pulled out, then thrust back into her, she lifted her hips and met him with a passion that enthralled him. Their bodies surged together, over and over, slick with sweat and sexual heat. The scent of the cool mountain night and musky arousal swirled over them. Elizabeth’s legs curved around his hips and he lifted her ass, giving himself a better angle at her, feeling the tip of his shaft probe against the top of her canal. She whimpered, obviously liking it. He was pretty sure she was close to climax again. Damn, she was a wonder. Heat built in his balls where they slapped against her. His cock was so swollen it felt as if it were going to explode. “Is this the part where you shoot your come deep inside me?” Elizabeth gasped. “Because that’s what I want. You said every orifice.” Her words nearly drove him to madness. “I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he growled. “Then do it now!” Her body convulsed around him as she peaked. The surging contractions deep in her cunt were all he needed to finish him off. As he pistoned into her, his semen burst from his cock in seemingly neverending waves. Her hot, squeezing sheath demanded he give up every last droplet, and refused to be satisfied by anything less. By the time he was dry he could barely groan in exhaustion. When they lay tangled together on the damp sheets, struggling for air, he pulled off the condom and snuggled her against him. “I don’t think I can breathe, Miguel.” “Neither can I.” She brushed her fingertips over his chest, then rose on one elbow and looked down at him, concern, but also sated passion, etched on her face. “Are you okay? We didn’t hurt you, did we?” “If I say I still hurt, will you kiss it and make it better?” 97
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Her soft laughter lit him up from the inside out. “Kiss what and make it better?” “Whatever aches.” “Mmmm, I see, so you’re going to take advantage of my sweet nature and tender nursing skills, are you? Might I remind you that I’m a very well-read woman. My knowledge on just how to make it feel better might be extensive, for all you know. It might be more than you could handle.” She bit her lip, and he could tell it was to keep from smiling. He buried a hand in her soft, thick hair and tugged her close enough for a kiss, which she let him take without complaint. “And you think this knowledge of yours scares me?” “A strong, bossy man like you…I don’t know. You tell me.” Her nails scraped over his nipples, bringing them to small, hard points. And damned if his cock didn’t give a stir in spite of its recent milking. “Bossy? You think I’m bossy?” “You sure growl a lot of orders.” Her voice lowered in a sassy imitation of what he supposed was him. “Do this. Do that. No arguments.” She smiled. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you you can catch more flies with sugar than vinegar?” Miguel chuckled. “Are you a fly?” One of her delicate eyebrows rose in challenge. “Do I look caught?” He rolled her onto her back and pinned her down. Her breasts thrust against his chest, and her legs opened automatically to accommodate him. “Let me think… Yes, you look well caught, and damned delicious.” Her eyes suddenly darkened and glazed with passion, and he felt heat stir in the air around them again. “The question is…will you ever let me go?” Miguel’s breath slowed to barely a whisper. She already knew she 98
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could have left earlier, yet she’d chosen to remain. But he knew that’s not what she was asking. “Do you want the truth?” His voice was deep, husky. “Yes.” He teased the tip of his once again burgeoning erection against the damp crease of her pussy, and she trembled at the contact. “I don’t ever want to let you go.” Her breath caught, then rushed out in a soft, warm burst. “Then show me again why I should stay.” When her mouth found his and her hands tightened on his back, tugging him closer, he was lost. *
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Elizabeth didn’t know how long they kissed, their bodies entwined, or how long he whispered soft, erotic promises as his hands roamed over every inch of her, touching, exploring, caressing, bringing her once more to the edge of reason. She felt as if the night had become sheer black silk around them, submerging them in a deep pool of sensuality, and no one existed but the two of them. He entered her again, filling her with his turgid length, stroking the walls of her needy cave, pressing against her cervix, and touching every inch of her insides just as he had her outside. When he sat up and lifted her onto his lap facing away from him, and his probing cock eased its slippery way into her tight rear passage, her vision blurred and exquisite pleasure stole over her. She’d never felt so full, so replete. His hands pleasured her breasts, hot against her tender flesh, and his mouth played at her neck, suckling and tonguing in a rhythm that matched his fucking. One hand slipped lower, through the curls that protected her core, and found her swollen heat. His groin rocked beneath her, allowing him to sink deeper and deeper inside her. “Tell me again,” she said in a whispered sob. “I don’t ever want to let you go, Beth. I want you, need you, like 99
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I’ve never needed anyone.” His voice was a breathless, tortured version of its usual self against her ear, and it was then she realized whatever was happening between them was affecting him as much as it was her. “Oh, God…Miguel…” “I’m here, baby. For as long as you’ll have me. For as long as you’ll let me stay with you.” Her body splintered into a million glittering pieces, like glass shattering in slow motion. He held her, encouraged her, and only when she’d surged in a final convulsion that turned her inside out, did he groan her name and give himself up to his own release. Elizabeth dragged in deep breath after deep breath and sagged in his arms. Her heart throbbed and she felt so physically and emotionally drained she didn’t know if she could move. Miguel’s breathing was ragged as well. He cradled her against him, offering his strength, and she let herself lean into it. Propriety, what the future might bring, and the world bedamned. She couldn’t ignore it or pretend any longer. In an odd twist of fate, or maybe because he was exactly what she’d dreamed of since she was a girl, she’d fallen in love with this complicated man.
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CHAPTER 8
Elizabeth rolled over, and in the fingers of late morning sunlight filtering through the trees and slanting through the windows, her gaze instantly sought out, and found, the object of her desire. A slow pulse of need coursed through her as she savored the sight of him, knowing he wasn’t yet aware she was awake. He sat in a wooden chair, his back to her, his bare feet propped on the kitchen table, looking at something on his legs. From her position it looked like he held a laptop. He wore jeans, but nothing else. The muscular expanse of his shoulders and back, the glaring white of the bandage on his arm in stark contrast to his brown skin, the way his biceps and triceps flexed as he typed, reminded her all over again what an utterly masculine and physically striking man he was. Her heart felt too full for her chest. She eased out of the bed, her body achy in pleasant places, and 101
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slipped her arms back into his shirt, only bothering with a few of the buttons. Her bare feet made no sound on the wood floor and braided rug, but she knew she could never sneak up on him…he’d know she was coming. As her arm curved around him from behind, his came up and pulled her closer until she was pressed to his back. “Have I thanked you yet for saving my life yesterday?” she asked, resting her cheek against his hair. She felt him smile. “In more ways than one, baby.” He set the computer on the table, and tugged her around until she was nestled in his lap. His eyes glowed with amber flecks this morning, and his smile did things to her insides she couldn’t even begin to describe. “Have I thanked you for saving mine?” “I didn’t save yours. All I did was…” She couldn’t get the words out as the memory of digging the awful piece of metal out of his arm, then having to heat a knife on the stove and press it to his wound left her shaking. He kissed her, a slow, gentle brush of his lips against hers. “I know what you did. And I appreciate it more than you can imagine.” “Can I ask you a question?” “Anything you’d like.” He seemed relaxed. Open. “Why were you so mad at me yesterday morning? You acted like you hated me.” Regret flashed in his eyes. “I’m sorry. It was nothing you did. A very long time ago I fell in love with a woman from a wealthy family. I thought she could do no wrong, but she betrayed me. And so, when I found out who you were, I unfairly took my old anger out on you.” “Because I come from a wealthy family,” she whispered. “Yes. But it was wrong of me to make assumptions. And I quickly realized you were nothing like Rosa.” 102
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He smiled and his palm caressed her cheek. Elizabeth leaned into it. She wanted to ask him for more, but sensed this was something from his past he might not want to dredge up. It surprised her when he continued without prompting. “I grew up dirt poor, Elizabeth. My dad disappeared when I was a kid, and my mom was left to raise seven of us—three boys and four younger sisters—in one of the worst barrios in the city. My oldest brother was killed in a gang shooting when I was fourteen, so I swore I’d never get involved in anything like that. “I studied hard in school and won a scholarship to college. My senior year of college, I met Rosa. She was a few years younger than I was, and she never seemed to care that her family owned cars that cost more than my family earned in ten years. When I asked her to marry me, she said yes, even though her father didn’t approve. He tried to buy me off, offered me a shitload of money to disappear and leave his daughter alone.” Elizabeth sighed. That was why he’d gotten so angry yesterday morning when she suggested he ransom her. Unknowingly, she’d shoved the whole memory of a rich daddy buying him off right in his face. “A couple of months before the wedding,” Miguel was saying, “I went by her house one day, and found her in bed with another man. Not just any other man. It was my younger brother.” “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this up.” “It’s okay. I want you to know.” He threaded his fingers through hers. “I went crazy, told them I never wanted to see either of them again. But Rosa threw herself at my feet, begging me to forgive her. I was a fool, so I did. But I wasn’t as trusting as I had been, so I watched her, and a couple of weeks later, it happened again. This time with a different man. I told her that was the end, and I meant it. But she wouldn’t give up. Finally, she threatened to go to her father if I didn’t 103
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take her back. Said she’d tell him I’d hurt her, and he’d get even with me.” Miguel shook his head. “I ignored her, thinking it was just more of her manipulation. I knew her father was glad to be rid of me. But two days later, my younger brother was killed in what the police said was a drug-related shooting. I’d worked hard to keep him out of gangs and off drugs, and I believed he was clean. So I started digging around. “What I discovered was that my brother had been enticed to join a drug operation. A major operation run by none other than Señor Rodriguez, Rosa’s father. It turned out he was one the biggest drug traffickers in the area. And Rosa worked with him, sleeping her way into young, impressionable men’s hearts, making promises of money and prestige if they went to work for her father as sellers or couriers.” He paused and stared out the window for several seconds, and Elizabeth didn’t push. “Looking back on it, she must have known from the beginning she’d never convince me to work for her father—I’d never been quiet about how I felt when it came to the drug trade. So I can’t figure why she would have stayed with me…unless she really did love me in her own twisted way. Or thought she did.” Miguel’s gaze returned to her. “But love or not, she was used to getting what she wanted, so when I wouldn’t take her back, she convinced her father to have my brother killed as a way of getting revenge on me.” Oh, man. “Miguel, I’m so sorry.” He stroked her hair and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I hope they caught this Rodriguez and locked him away forever.” “It wasn’t that easy. He and his family disappeared into Mexico. He was a drug lord, and drug lords have plenty of money and resources. But I wasn’t willing to give up. Even though the police and the feds were after him, too, I hunted him myself. It took three years before I finally tracked him down and finished my business with him.” 104
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She studied him for a moment, then whispered, “By business, you mean you killed him, don’t you?” “Yes.” It was said without regret or apology. “And Rosa?” “She was already dead. She’d been murdered by one of her adoring ‘men’ when he discovered she was using him.” All was quiet for several minutes. Miguel continued to hold her and play with her hair, while Elizabeth tried to come to terms with what he’d just told her. In her world, people didn’t kill other people for vengeance or primitive justice. Yet she could feel Miguel’s pain from all those years ago. He’d lost two brothers, one as a result of his relationship with a woman who’d betrayed him. Elizabeth wasn’t sure how old Miguel was, but she suspected he was in his mid-thirties. Which meant he’d spent a lot of years living with a lot of baggage. How could anyone deal with knowing they’d killed another human being? But the more she thought about it, and the more she tried to put herself in his position, she honestly wasn’t sure if she would have done anything different. “You said they disappeared into Mexico. Rosa and her family. You’re an American, aren’t you?” He didn’t seem surprised by her question. “I was born and raised in L.A.. My parents moved there from Mexico when my older brother was a baby.” “And based on the story you just told me, I can’t believe you’d be involved in the drug business. All that stuff you said out there to Galista’s men yesterday… Knowing what I know now, it doesn’t ring true. So what are you? Some kind of an undercover agent? DEA or FBI? Customs?” “Not exactly. I’m not affiliated with any of those organizations. I work for a small off-the-radar group made up of both U.S. and Mexican 105
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figures.” “Like mercenaries?” He raised one dark eyebrow. “Bookstore owner, remember? I read a lot, including…well…” Heat crept up her cheeks. “…men’s action adventure.” His sensuous lips turned up in a smile and his eyes twinkled. “Just when I think I’m starting to figure you out, you toss another surprise my way.” Then he grew serious again. “It’s not a mercenary group. It’s…consulting, I suppose is the best way to describe it. There are certain high-placed individuals in both governments who have an interest in monitoring and sometimes controlling aspects of the drug trade. So we step in. “Right now our primary interest is finding out who Galista is. No one’s ever see him. Two years ago he appeared on the scene, although we suspect he may have been building his business quietly for years before that. Now we believe he’s the main trafficker in southern Mexico, but we have no evidence to prove it. If what we believe is true, his cartel is growing. Soon he’ll have enough power to take over most of the other major cartels and he’ll be the driving force behind virtually all the drugs transported from Mexico into the U.S. But before we can do anything to stop him, we have to be able to ID him and pinpoint him as the leader of this growing cartel.” “But those men yesterday said as much, that Galista’s the head of the cartel.” “We need hard evidence. Anyone can say anything and it doesn’t mean much. Plus, those men would never agree to testify against Galista. They know they’d be killed.” Elizabeth shivered. “Galista wants me. Why, Miguel?” “I’ve been thinking about that. I have a gut feeling Galista thinks you can somehow identify him. That’s why you’re such a threat.” 106
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She closed her eyes, hating that they were right back to her not remembering anything helpful. “I promise, if I could tell you anything, I would.” Tension oozed from Miguel, and she knew he wanted her to do better than that, to come up with something concrete. She hated feeling so useless, but the days in Acapulco were a blur of running around to stores, the airport, appointments. If she’d unknowingly seen something, it sure hadn’t been obvious. Wanting to distract him from his disappointment in her, she shifted the topic elsewhere. “So when you’re not working in Mexico like you are now, do you still live in L.A.?” “No. I live in Colorado now. Have for the past several years. And…” He paused for a moment as if he was weighing how his next words might affect her. “And?” “And I have two business partners. They work for the same organization I do, but when we’re not on assignment…” Another pause, and his jaw was doing that clench/release thing again. “We own and run a retail store together.” Something akin to numb shock settled in her limbs. “A store?” “Yeah. A wilderness outfitting store—hiking, climbing, camping gear.” She pulled away from him and dropped into another chair at the table, then lowered her head onto her arms. “Profit margins and pissy customers,” she mumbled. “That’s how you knew.” When she glanced up at him, he had the grace to look sheepish. Restless, she stood again, and this time paced to the window. She felt him watching her, but he didn’t push. “A part of me really wants to be mad at you, damn it. You played me. You let me believe you were something you aren’t. After what happened with Lionel, you should know…” 107
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“I do know. And I am truly sorry. I couldn’t break my cover, Elizabeth—it would have been dangerous for both of us. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t regret keeping the truth from you.” “Why are you telling me now?” “Because my cover’s blown. Because if I’d really wanted the bad guys to think I was one of them, I would have had to turn you over to Galista.” He was suddenly behind her, close enough she felt the heat radiating out of his body. “And there’s no way in hell I would ever have done that.” He turned her. His gaze seared into her, his muscular thighs sandwiched hers, and his scent swirled around her. “But mostly”—his voice dropped to a husky thrum—“it’s because lies and false identities are no way to build a relationship.” “Is that what we have?” she asked in a shaky whisper. “A relationship?” The stroke of his callused thumb over her cheek made her ache to have him touch her in other places, other ways. “I told you last night, I don’t ever want to let you go. But in truth, that’s up to you, Elizabeth. The question is, do you think you can ever come to care about a man who carries a gun for a living? Because even though I’m not a bad guy, I’m not exactly a good one either. Sometimes I walk a fine line. People do shoot at me on occasion, and I shoot back. And the organization I work for…as far as the rest of the world knows, it doesn’t exist. In some ways it would almost be cleaner, easier, if I were a bad guy.” Elizabeth embraced the heady rush of excitement surging in her veins. “I just want to remind you of one thing.” “What’s that?” “Last night, I thought you were a bad guy…and when I could have run, I didn’t.” “And now?” His breath was hot against her cheek, and one of his 108
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hands slid up under her shirt to cup her bare bottom. “Do you want to run now?” Throbs of desire spread through her. “God, no.” “Are you sure?’’ His gaze bore into her, filled with lust…and, did she dare think there might be something deeper in the flicker of intense, exposed emotion she saw? Her lungs squeezed so tight for a moment she grew dizzy. “I’m positive.” She wasn’t sure if he moved first or if she did, but their mouths crushed together. Their tongues thrust against each other with desperation. Her hands locked in his hair. His cradled her ass and pulled her against him so she felt every ridge, every engorged inch of his erect rod prodding her lower stomach. She remembered her impression from the first night they’d kissed—that he tasted like sex and danger—and realized it was still true, would probably always be true. She ripped at his jeans, needing them gone, needing to feel his swollen length impale her, fuck her again. When she managed to shove the denim down around his hips, his sex sprang free, impossibly hard, thickly veined, and stabbing the air. Pre-come glistened on the tip. Miguel picked her up, and her legs locked instinctively around his waist. He moved across the room in powerful strides and stopped next to the bedside table. Setting her down, her back to the wall, he ripped one of the condoms off the strip, tore the package open with his teeth, and donned it. Elizabeth watched in fascination as his strong fingers worked it down over his straining, tumescent shaft. God, she wanted that inside her. Wanted it sliding in and out of her until she screamed. He lifted one of her legs in a swift motion, and draped it around his waist. Damp flesh met damp flesh. “Fill me!” she demanded. “Do it now!” He plunged into her, burying his cock to the hilt. 109
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Elizabeth cried out, but he kissed away the sound and any others that might escape, dominating her, forcing her to wrap her arms around his neck and hang on for dear life. His penis throbbed inside her pussy. Then he began to move, pulling out and shoving home again, harder. Faster. It wasn’t gentle or sweet. It wasn’t cultured or politically correct. It was fucking in its most urgent form. Full of passion and raw emotion. The kind of emotion that got churned up from the very bottom of one’s gut, that hurt because it was almost too much to bear. He held her against the wall and pounded into her mercilessly, until she was boneless, until she could barely hang on to him. Orgasm ripped through her with such intensity she thought she might pass out. Yet somehow, some way she managed to stay conscious. He swallowed her sobs, and, with a deep, animalistic growl, ground his own release into her pliant body. A wild, dizzying freedom washed through her, and she knew she’d never be the same again. *
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At some point they managed to untangle themselves, but it didn’t last long. Although she’d just showered last night, Miguel’s entreaty to join him while he took one ended with another round of mind-bending sex. But the atmosphere eventually turned back to serious matters, and as they drank coffee and ate toasted frozen waffles—only one of the very American things they’d discovered in his cousin Javier’s freezer— Miguel went back to work on his laptop. “Is that some of the video you recorded from the mesa?” “Yeah. I’ve had the camera running up there for three months, pointed at what I feel sure is Galista’s main compound. But in all the hours of recording and watching, I haven’t gotten much of anything. A few people coming and going, but none that we recognize as being 110
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important.” “By important you mean people who are known to be involved with the drug cartels?” “Exactly.” Miguel glanced up at her as he swallowed a gulp of coffee from a black stoneware mug. Then a half-smile curved his lips. “Just what all did you learn from reading those action adventure books?” Elizabeth grinned. “Oh, all kinds of terribly important stuff. Not! It’s fiction. Men with big guns charging around saving helpless women who are always half-dressed and have big tits.” His eyebrows rose, and he stroked a hand over his gun where it lay on the table next to the laptop. As he did that, he eyed her from head to toe, but lingered on the half-buttoned shirt she had on with no bra, which exposed a fair amount of cleavage. She had pulled her panties back on again, but that and the shirt were all she wore. A blush crept up her cheeks. “I’m not helpless,” was all she could manage. His rumbling chuckle filled her with a sated warmth. “My Beth. You’re something else, you know that?” He speared his fingers through her hair and dragged her close for a bone-melting kiss. When she came up for air, she smiled. “Why do you call me Beth?” “Sometimes you’re just all soft and warm and gentle, and you seem more like a Beth than an Elizabeth.” “My mom used to call me Beth. You’re the only other one who’s ever done it.” “Does it bother you that I do?” “No. I like it.” Her gaze focused back on the computer screen. “Hey! What’s that?” Miguel was instantly in work mode. “Did you see something? Let me rewind.” The video paused, moved backward at high speed, then started 111
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again. As they watched, a black limo pulled up at a security gate, was ushered through, and stopped in what almost looked like an oldfashioned porte cochère. It was hard to tell for sure because the recording had been made from such a long distance. The house itself was hidden from view by the surrounding rocks and numerous trees that had clearly been planted with the intention of hiding everything the rocks didn’t. In fact…the porte cochère probably wouldn’t be visible from any other angle than the one from which they were looking. “How did you manage to find a place for your camera that gave you this view?” “I spent two weeks out there, hiking around, hoping to find a spot I could see some of the comings and goings. That’s how I found the hot spring.” The car in the video was in shadow since the overhang blocked out the sun, but it was still possible to make out a hulking figure emerge from the car, followed by another of equally enormous size. Bodyguards, maybe? Then a smaller figure stepped out. A woman. A long mane of platinum blond hair fell around her back. It was one of the only details Elizabeth could make out in the recording. “Stop.” Miguel froze the frame on the woman, her back to the camera. “Who is she?” “Not sure. This is only the second time I’ve seen her. She showed up the first time about a month ago. I saw her go in, but didn’t see her come out. Which means nothing because she could have left at night. There are plenty of vehicles that come and go at night, but in the dark I can’t tell who’s getting in them, even with infrared. It’s just too far away. We tried to check her out based on the long blonde hair, but it wasn’t much to go on. We finally decided she might be a girlfriend.” “I’ve seen that hair,” Elizabeth murmured. “I think it’s safe to say nobody has hair that color naturally, and very few have hair that long. 112
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That’s why I had you go back.” “Where have you seen it?” She bit her lip as she thought. And then it came to her. “Don’t be mad at me, but I just remembered something.” “I’m not mad at you. Tell me what you’re thinking.” “Remember I told you I was supposed to meet Lionel for lunch at a restaurant the day before yesterday?” “El Tulipán, yes, I remember.” “Lionel wrote down the address for me before he left that morning. He said it was close enough I could walk there. But when I tried to find the place I got lost. It turned out he’d told me the wrong street name. It was supposed to be something like Camin…” “Camino? It means street.” “Yes, that’s it. It should have been Camino something Reinas, but he’d written Camino something Reyes.” “One means kings’ street, the other is queens’ street.” “Well, I went to the wrong one. I ended up on Reyes Street. I didn’t see a blue building with flowers—Lionel had told me that’s what the restaurant looked like. So I went in another restaurant, a small one that was in between some stores, to ask for directions. The maitre ’d was rude to me. I’m not sure what he said since he was speaking Spanish, but he had an attitude. Finally, in English, he said something about a private party, then he ushered me out the door and I heard him lock up behind me.” “Private party?” “That’s what he said. And before he pushed me out the door, I glanced in the direction he indicated, and through a doorway I saw a woman with long platinum hair like that”—she pointed at the computer screen—“sitting at a table with a couple of men.” “What did the men look like?” Elizabeth thought for a moment, trying to bring the scene to mind. 113
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“I just had a quick glance, but one was older with graying hair. The other one was younger with hair longer than yours. Both men were dressed in business suits. And the woman, in spite of the fake blonde hair, had an olive complexion.” “Do you remember the name of the restaurant?” Elizabeth scrunched her face. “I’m sorry, I don’t. As you’ve already seen, my Spanish is hopeless. But the woman didn’t look like a girlfriend to me. Instead she looked…well, kind of like you do right now. All intense and in charge. Plus, she was sitting at the head of the table, and I got the sense—nothing concrete mind you, just a gut feel— that she was leading the discussion.” Miguel stared at her. Then at the frozen picture on the screen. Then back at her. “Damn.” He put the picture in motion again, but there was nothing else to see. The threesome disappeared into what, Elizabeth had to assume, was the hidden house. Miguel rewound it and watched the short scene again. Then he minimized the video and his fingers flew on the keyboard as he typed. It looked like he was running a search on the internet. With his focus on the computer, she gathered up the paper plates they’d eaten off of and took them to the trash. Then she pulled on her jeans and tied the tails of Miguel’s shirt around her waist. She heard him place a phone call. He told someone about the events of the past two days. But Miguel’s next words had her jerking her head around to stare at him. “I think Galista’s a woman,” he said to the person on the phone. “The blonde woman.” He proceeded to tell about the video and what she’d seen. “And I just ran a search and discovered the head waiter at Casa Robles, which is a restaurant on Camino de los Reyes, was found shot in the head night before last.” 114
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Elizabeth gasped. The rude man who’d shooed her out had been killed? There were a lot of yes and no responses, then Miguel hung up. “Get your stuff together. We’re leaving.” “We are?” He opened one of the dresser drawers and pulled out a navy blue Tshirt. As he yanked it down over his head and his rippling chest and abs, he said, “My cover’s history. There’s nothing else I can do here. And Galista wants you dead before you can identify her. One of my partners is in Mexico City this week, so they’re sending a team to get us out of here and back to the States.” Icy fear spread through Elizabeth at Miguel’s blunt words. Galista wanted her dead. Dead. All because she’d seen a woman in a restaurant. “The man I spoke with. He was killed?” Miguel closed his laptop. “I’m sure his job was to guard the door. But he allowed you to enter, gave you a chance to see Galista. A mistake like that when you work for someone like Galista is guaranteed death.” “Oh, God,” she whispered. Miguel took her by the arm and pulled her against him for a quick hug, then released her. “Come on. There’s no place to set a chopper down around here in the mountains, so we’re driving to meet them.” When she still hesitated, frozen to the spot, he cupped her cheek. The warmth of his hand brought a little life back to her. “It’s going to be okay, Beth. We’re going to get out of here.” She swallowed past the knot of ice in her throat and nodded.
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CHAPTER 9
An hour later they were on the road heading toward the pick-up point. With the back window history from the shooting yesterday, and all the windows down, the hot, dry afternoon air blew through the Explorer, whipping Miguel’s hair around his face. Whipping Elizabeth’s long, dark waves around hers as well. “Why didn’t they just come after me right there on the street? When I left the restaurant?” Elizabeth asked. She’d been quiet, pale, and until now hadn’t said a word since they left the cabin. He reached across the console and squeezed her hand, which was cold in spite of the afternoon heat. “Did the woman actually see you looking at her? Did you make eye contact with her?” She picked up one of his elastic bands from the dash and tamed her hair into a pony tail. “Nooo,” she said slowly, as if replaying the scene in her head. “I don’t think so.” 116
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“Then that’s probably why. She might not have seen you, might not have even heard you—you said she and the two men were in another room, yes?” “Yes.” “It’s possible she didn’t know you’d been there until after you were gone, if the guard didn’t mention it until later.” “But how did they find me? You said yesterday they’d followed me to the bar.” “You asked the man in the restaurant for directions, which means you probably told him you were looking for El Tulipán. They could have gone there after you’d already left. But if Lionel had made a reservation, and they could describe how you looked, how you were dressed, the staff at El Tulipán probably told them who you were. From there you’d be easy to track down. I told you, your impending wedding was in the paper. And your dad’s hotel, The Acapulco Sandringham, makes it pretty obvious where they could find you.” She was quiet again for a long stretch, staring out the passenger window. “So what happens now? You said drug lords have lots of resources. What’s to stop her from following us to the States and killing me there?” “I have resources, too. I'm not going to let anyone kill you. The organization I work for will keep you safe until we get Galista.” He brought her hand up and brushed his lips over it. “Keep me safe. What does that mean? Are you saying I have to go into the witness protection program or something?” Now she did turn to him, and when he glanced at her, frown lines marred the smooth skin of her forehead, and her blue eyes were wide with fear and frustration. “No, there are other ways…” He glanced in the rearview mirror as he spoke and saw two vehicles coming up on them at high speed. “Fuck!” 117
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“Oh, God, what now?” Miguel stepped on the gas. They were currently traveling through a canyon, which left him feeling trapped. He’d like it a lot better when they broke free of it and came out in the open again. Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. “They’re catching up. Drive faster…faster!” His foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, flooring it. He could see where the canyon widened out, just after a short rise ahead. Almost there. He jerked his cell phone from the case on his belt and hit speed dial. “We’re being followed,” he growled into the phone. “This’d be a good time for some hel—Oh, shit!” A third vehicle had just popped up over the hill in front of them, heading toward them and driving on their side of the narrow highway. A fourth vehicle appeared behind it in the adjoining lane. With the canyon walls still rising around them, there was no way to swerve off the road to avoid the oncoming cars. Miguel dropped the phone and had to slam on the brakes to keep from having a head-on collision. Elizabeth screamed. The Explorer slid sideways as he steered into the skid, tires squealing on the pavement. Finally, it juddered to a stop without hitting anything or rolling, which had been his fear. The four vehicles immediately boxed them in. “Get down!” Elizabeth ducked as he reached behind them to grab the rifle from the back seat. But men were already emerging from the vehicles around them, and reality wasn’t pretty. They were trapped in the canyon— they’d been only a hundred meters from being free of its confines, damn it! He was one man, they were ten. Ten with heavy arms, a good portion of which were currently pointed at the Explorer. If he were on his own, he might try to hold them off. But invite a full-fledged shoot118
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out at close range and risk Elizabeth’s precious life? He swore softly. “Get out of the vehicle,” one of the men ordered in Spanish as he looked down the sight of a.45 caliber monster. “We’ll pass, thanks,” Miguel called, sighting the hulking, suit-clad man down the barrel of his own weapon, but staying alert to what was going on behind the Explorer as well. The nearest group of men were only thirty feet away. Too close for comfort. “Put your weapon down and get out. Galista wants to talk.” “Why do I feel certain Galista’s form of ‘talking’ involves people getting killed.” “Would you prefer we shoot you both here?” “You can try, but I guarantee you, I’ll take out several of you in the process.” Miguel heard a softly voiced order coming from the inside the black limo, which had been the second car to come up over the hill in front of them. It just occurred to him that Galista herself might be in it. That was confirmed when the man spoke again. “Galista says if you get out now and cooperate, she’ll allow the woman to live.” Miguel glanced at Elizabeth, who’d slid so far down in her seat she was almost on the floor. Her churning gaze met his. He realized she didn’t understand the conversation since it was all in Spanish. And maybe it was for the best she didn’t. “And I’m supposed to believe that? What guarantee do I have for her safety?” A shapely leg emerged from the limo—clad in trousers, but obviously feminine from the high-heeled sandal on the foot. The woman stepped fully out of the car, and even in the long shadows the canyon walls cast across the road and the scrubby brush surrounding it, her long blonde hair falling to her waist was a beacon. But it wasn’t until she pulled off her sunglasses, and he got a good look at her face, 119
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that the earth opened underneath Miguel. The rifle wavered for a moment as he held it down a few inches so he could get a better look out the windshield. What the hell? “You have my guarantee,” the woman said in English, in that husky voice he remembered. “I just want to talk. You have my promise the woman won’t be harmed as long as you accommodate me.” He almost choked on the anger that rose within him. “Accommodate you?” He, too, spoke in English now. She’d always had a snobbish attitude about wanting to speak only English, to make her feel more American. Funny she was now living in Mexico. “Still playing your power games after all these years, I see. Do you honestly think I would trust any promises you might make? Everything about you is a lie. Like the fact you're standing here right now instead of being long dead like you were supposed to be.” He felt Elizabeth’s eyes on him and knew she was trying to sort out what was happening. “Out of the car, Delgado!” the man who’d made the demands earlier said. But Galista held up a hand to silence him. “Miguelito…I never meant to hurt you. My death was a matter of necessity, and what happened with your brother, an unfortunate accident.” Elizabeth gasped, and Miguel knew she'd finally realized who Galista was. Old rage burned in his gut, but he pushed it away. The past was the past, and he couldn’t bring his brother back. He’d realized that the day he pulled the trigger and killed Rosa’s father. Revenge hadn’t taken away the gaping hole within him. Only time had done that. He looked at Elizabeth. “Phone,” he said quietly. Her brows drew together, but then she realized what he meant. She patted a hand around the seat and the floor below her, and came up with 120
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his cell phone. He knew he couldn’t use it without being seen. But Beth was wellhidden from view. “Is it still on?” “No. It must have disconnected when it fell on the floor.” “Dial pound one.” She did, while he reached into the backseat as smoothly as he could without giving away what he was doing, and uncovered a box on the floor. “When my partner Tom answers, tell him we’re an hour out from the cabin, trapped at the north end of the canyon. There are four cars, ten men, and Galista herself is present.” “Got it.” In spite of her shaking hands, once again he marveled at how well she could cope if the situation required it. “Necessities and accidents. How convenient,” he called to Galista. He needed to keep her talking. Stall long enough for help to arrive. “But then again, you always were one to manipulate to get your way.” He heard Beth talking quietly. His hand closed around what he sought in the box. “Come out of your vehicle and let’s be civilized about this. I just want to talk. To reminisce about old times.” “Do you think I give a shit about old times?” Miguel snarled. “You were forgotten to me long ago. Don’t flatter yourself. But I am curious…you say your death was a necessity. Why would that be?” “You were so angry. I loved you, Miguelito, but you couldn’t see that. You hunted my father, and he and I both knew you’d come after me, too. My father arranged for me to be ‘murdered’ so I could live in peace.” Miguel snorted. “And it had nothing to do with hiding you away so you could carry on the family business.” “Help’s less than five minutes away,” Elizabeth said, drawing his attention back to her. She still held the phone to her ear. 121
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He nodded. Five minutes to stall. “Get out of the car. You can bring the woman with you. I’d like to meet face to face this silly little girl who’s given me such trouble. Is she your new lover? Another rich man’s daughter—just your style. You seem to be hopelessly drawn to women who are out of your league.” “Silly little girl?” Elizabeth growled. “All right, now I’m pissed,” Miguel looked at her in surprise. She wasn’t kidding. Where her eyes had swirled with fear before, now they shimmered with a crystal blue flame. “Her white skin must make you feel like you’ve stepped up in the world,” Galista continued. “But does she please you the way I used to, Miguelito? Does she know how you like your cock stroked? Does she squirm beneath you, all warm and wet? Does she realize how turned on you get when a woman screams?” “Bitch!” Elizabeth tossed the phone aside and started to scramble up into the seat. Miguel pressed her back down. “She’s playing you. Trying to hurt you. It’s what she does.” “She’s not hurting me. She’s making me damned mad! How dare she presume to tell me anything about what you like! How dare she presume to even mention her past with you after what she did to you! You’re mine now, damn it!” Her eyebrows rose, then scrunched together, and she bit her lip and looked away as if she’d suddenly realized how her words had sounded, realized what she’d said. But Miguel’s entire existence filled with sunlight, and he smiled in spite of their dangerous situation. He tipped her chin up so she was looking at him again. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened, then closed. The tender moment was lost when Galista’s man growled, "Twenty seconds, Delgado. Or we open fire." And this time Galista didn’t motion him to back off. 122
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Damn. Fuck! Gritting his teeth, Miguel knew the time for talking was up. He didn't even consider Galista's men wouldn't do exactly what they said. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but so be it. He pulled two oblong objects out of the box in the back seat. “Are those…?” “Yep.” “Miguel…” Her voice shook. “I don’t like this.” “Neither do I. But we’re surrounded by them and they’re done talking. It’s time to play their game. But we’re going to do my way. “Diez….nueve…ocho…siete…seis…” the goon counted. “Okay, okay!” Miguel called. He lowered his rifle to his lap, picked up one of the grenades, and, holding the handle tight, pulled the pin. He raised his hands as if in surrender. But at the same time he released the handle, made a mental count to two, and, with a swift movement, tossed the grenade out the window, aiming for the closest SUV and group of Galista’s security team. “Stay down!” he rasped, and threw his arms and upper body over the console, trying to give Elizabeth some extra protection. The explosion rocked the Explorer, and a piece of flying debris hit the windshield, shattering it. Yelling and gunfire commenced, with shots pinging the doors and hood of the Explorer. Miguel pulled the pin on the second grenade, released the handle, and counted to two again before he threw it, this time through the open back window, aiming at the vehicles behind them. It was a damned dangerous game to hang on to the grenade after the handle had been released, but he wanted them to go off quickly when they hit. He was afraid the usual four or five second delay between releasing the handle and the fuse igniting the bomb would give Galista’s men time to toss the damned things back at them. 123
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Another blast rattled the Explorer, lifting it up on two wheels for a moment, then dropping it back with a jarring thunk. He gave Elizabeth a quick once over. She had a small cut at her hairline that was bleeding. “You okay?” At her nod, he said, “Stay down, baby.” Then he sat up, pointed the assault rifle through the broken windshield and let off a round of fire. A suctioned pop, followed by a whine, sent a cold stab of fear through him. Grenade launcher. “Move!” he ordered Elizabeth. “Out the door, now!” She tore open her door and dove, and he waited to make sure she was out before he followed suit through his own. He barely had time to cover his head with his arms when the Explorer exploded in a ball of fire behind him. *
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Elizabeth’s ears rang and her body…felt like nothing. Like it wasn’t even there. But before panic consumed her, pins and needles began shooting through her fingers and toes, spreading upward and inward. Move! Damn it, move! She had to find Miguel. Lifting her head up off the dirt, her first glance around showed nothing but a thick fog of gray smoke. When she dragged in a breath, it stung her lungs. Coughing, she pulled herself up to her hands and knees, then to her feet. Her hearing was beginning to return, but everything sounded muffled, as if she had a bad cold. She thought she heard the beat of a helicopter, the sound of shouting, more gunfire, but it came from ahead and behind her and didn’t seem to be directed at her. She made her way around orange-fingered flames crackling in the pile of rubble that used to be Miguel’s Explorer. Oh, God, please let him have gotten out okay. Let him still be alive. 124
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Please, please, please. Hot tears stung her eyes, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand as she staggered forward. Through the gray haze she finally made out a figure lying on the ground face down. No. No! He can’t be dead. But then, as a gust of wind churned through the canyon, some of the smoke wafted away, and she realized he wasn’t alone. Galista…Rosa, stood over him, a gun pointed at him. Her back was to Elizabeth. Then Elizabeth heard a voice. Just the faint sound of it, thanks to her muzzy hearing. But she recognized it. Miguel’s. Relief coursed through her, making her dizzy. She watched as he started to roll over, but the bitch skewered her high heel into his back, forcing him to return to his stomach. When she watched Miguel move his hands behind his head in submission, no doubt at the bitch’s order, something inside Elizabeth snapped. Spying a piece of metal car debris a few feet away, she scooped it up. As she stalked toward the woman’s slender form, her hearing seemed to return with odd, heightened clarity. She could hear the pop and crackle of flames, men’s shouts, and the sound of the bad guys being subdued by the rescue team. Could hear her own breathing, and her pulse thudding in her veins. “I loved you, Miguelito,” Galista was saying in a screechy voice. “Do you know how I felt when I realized it was you? There are many Miguel Delgados in the world, and I would never have expected to find mine in the heart of Mexico, trying to get into my organization. But when my men discovered the camera, I knew it was you. I knew you’d discovered who I really was and that you’d come back to finish what you’d started. All you had to do was love me, but you couldn’t. You’re mine, Miguelito. You always have been. But now I have to kill you because you can’t see this.” 125
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Elizabeth broke into a run, spurred on by raw fury and adrenaline. “Silly little girl my ass,” she muttered as the piece of metal connected with Galista’s head. Galista dropped her gun, and in the split second before she collapsed to the ground, she turned and gazed at Elizabeth, an expression of dumbfounded shock on her delicate face before she slumped at Miguel’s feet. Miguel pulled himself up, looked in disgust at the woman on the ground, then turned his velvet brown gaze on her. Elizabeth stared at him. Her hands shook. Come to think about it, she realized everything on her shook. The piece of metal slipped from her hand, and she swayed on her feet. But Miguel locked his arms around her to hold her up. “I…I didn’t kill her, did I?” “No. Just knocked her out.” One of his big hands cupped her cheek, and he turned her face up so he could look at her. His thumb brushed lightly over her jaw, sending a flood of warmth through her. Then, his eyes twinkling, he smiled…the toe-curling, bone-melting smile she loved. “Did you learn that move in one of your action adventure novels?” “No,” she whispered, suddenly feeling squeezed-out, drained. But a slow half-smile escaped her. “I made that one up myself.” His other hand moved up to join the first, cradling her face between them. His eyes darkened with emotion. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Their lips met in a tender kiss. “Miguel. And Elizabeth, I presume?” They pulled apart, and Elizabeth turned around to look into the most striking eyes she’d ever seen. They were a burnished gold. Like a tiger’s eyes. And they belonged, she realized, to a tall blond man dressed in blue jeans and a denim shirt. He had a face like the boy next 126
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door, and a movie star smile. “Tom,” Miguel said, as the two shook hands. “Damned nice of you to show up.” While he spoke, two other men moved in, snapped cuffs on Galista, then carried away her limp form. The man smiled and shrugged. “Looked like you had things in hand on your own…a bit on the messy side, though. Not real big on the subtle today, were you?” Miguel grimaced at him. “Charming.” He turned to Elizabeth. “He’s always this charming. Elizabeth Sandringham, Tom Eberson.” “Hi,” she managed, still a bit in awe of seeing these two men standing side by side, so vastly different in appearance, yet both modelgorgeous, and both exuding that lean, barely restrained dangerous quality that Elizabeth loved so much in Miguel. “It’s a pleasure.” He gave her hand a warm squeeze. “It’s nice to have a face to put with the voice on the phone.” “What will happen to her?” Elizabeth asked, watching the two men carry Galista toward the waiting vehicles and a helicopter she now saw sitting in the middle of the highway where the canyon widened out. “She’ll be detained, questioned,” Tom answered. “But not with a chance she might—” “She’s not going anywhere,” Miguel said. He looked at Tom. “I know who she really is. Trust me, armed with that information, we’ll be able to dig up enough dirt on her to keep her locked away for the rest of her life.” “Excellent.” The two men exchanged a few more words, then ended with Miguel’s promise to meet Tom the following day for a debriefing. “But for now,” Tom said, “you look like hell, my friend. And you don’t smell much better. You need a shower.” Miguel looked at Elizabeth and rolled his eyes. She grinned. She 127
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suspected she desperately needed one, too. “We’ll finish the clean up here. Go get some R and R.” Those golden eyes shone with a mischievous glint, and Elizabeth felt heat creep up her cheeks, certain he knew exactly what kind of R and R she and Miguel might partake of. When he’d gone, Miguel tugged her into his embrace, and picked up the kiss where they’d left off. Except this time there was a smoldering heat to it that sent tingles rippling straight to her core. When they at last came up for air, his look turned serious. “This morning you said you didn’t want to leave. But now you’ve had another taste of what my life is like. If you…” His voice grew hoarse. “If you can’t deal with this, if you can’t… I’ll understand.” A buttery warmth filled Elizabeth. She had no illusions life with Miguel would always be easy. In spite of his revelation he was part owner of a retail store, she knew he’d never be the safe, clean-cut, conservative man parents everywhere wanted for their daughters. And she didn’t give a damn. He was smart, strong, gentle, protective, and hot as sin. Life would never be boring. And she knew in her heart he’d always be there for her. She brushed a palm against his dirt-streaked cheek, savoring the feel of vibrant, sweaty male, and smiled. “I am so completely in love with you. Where else would I ever want to be?” The slow smile that stole over his face turned her heart upside down, made her breasts ache, and dampened her panties in anticipation of carnal delights yet to come. “I don’t have a Harley to sweep you away on. Will a helicopter do?” Elizabeth laughed from sheer joy, and it felt extraordinary. But not as extraordinary as the hard flesh of the man she loved when he picked her up with a growl and draped her over his shoulder. “Have you ever done it on a helicopter, baby?” 128
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Oh, Lord. No, life would definitely never be boring again!
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M. L. R HODES Award-winning author M. L. Rhodes has been writing for a living for nearly twelve years. Along with the erotic romance fiction she currently pens for Amber Quill Press, she’s also published everything from poetry, to magazine articles, to short stories, to traditional romance, to steamy romantic suspense novels (all under other names). In her fiction works, her characterization and emotional storytelling have received high critical acclaim from such places as Romantic Times Magazine and Word Weaving, and have garnered her numerous awards in the writing industry. Intelligent, empowered heroines and strong-but-tender heroes are her favorites. There’s nothing more exciting than putting two spirited people on the page together and watching them navigate the pitfalls and the emotional and sensual delights of falling in love. That is, after all, what romance is all about! If you’d like to keep up with what’s going on in M. L.’s world and find out about her new and upcoming releases, surf on over to her website at www.mlrhodeswriting.com. She also loves hearing from readers. You can reach her at
[email protected]. *
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Don’t miss Night Shadows, Book II: Jonesing by M. L. Rhodes, available soon from Amber Quill Press, LLC The year is 2067. Life on Earth is a mess thanks to global warming and the oil wars that devastated the environment, government, and the
economy. But some things never change. Like the existence of bad guys, and the cops who hunt them down. Police detective Rachel Jones and her new vampire lover, River, have an unusual romance. The whole vampire thing doesn’t exactly make for an average life. There’s the blood-sucking, the super strength, the sunlight aversion, and the way River can read her mind…even when she doesn’t really want him to. The sex, however, is beyond amazing, and although she’d never have believed it, Rachel also finds herself turning to River more and more as a friend and colleague. But when he becomes demanding, wanting her with him during his every waking moment, craving her like an addict with a drug, Rachel does the one thing River’s asked her not to—she delves into his past. She discovers there’s more to his history than he’s ever let on. And old truths could come back and bite them both…
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