The Fall of Maggie Brown

by Anne Stuart

  She heard the soft, furtive footsteps above the noise of the city outside, coming down the hallway to her room. She sat up, all thoughts of sleep vanishing. She hadn’t gotten up to lock the door when Frazer had left her—she’d just lain on the bed and felt sorry for herself. Maybe if she moved really fast she could reach it in time to keep out whoever might be coming for her.

  She was halfway off the bed when the door opened, illuminating Elena’s voluptuous figure. She was carrying a tray, and from across the room Maggie could smell the onions and tomatoes and peppers, and her stomach knotted in anticipation.

  “Dinner,” she announced in her strangely accented English. Maggie was educated enough in Spanish and French to get her through most difficult situations, but the language of San Pablo was mostly beyond her comprehension. Throughout its troubled history San Pablo had been isolated from its neighbors but not immune from their influence. It was a strange combination of Spanish, French, Andorran and Basque traditions, and the language was a sort of mishmash. Every now and then she could pick out a word or two, but mostly it was as incomprehensible as ancient Egyptian.

  Elena set the tray down on the rickety-looking table, then took the seat opposite, clearly waiting for Maggie to join her. She’d brought some sort of savory stew, accompanied by a cold bottle of beer, and any thoughts Maggie had of resisting vanished.

  She was halfway through the stew when she looked up to meet Elena’s dark, curious eyes. “It’s very good,” she said lamely.

  “And you were very hungry. That’s not like Frazer—he usually takes better care of his women.”

  “I’m not one of his women,” Maggie protested. “I just met him.”

  Elena laughed, a throaty, sensual sound. “He had me on my back in less than an hour, señorita.”

  “I wouldn’t be bragging on that if I were you,” Maggie replied stiffly.

  Elena laughed again, unoffended. “You’re much too civilized. Here in San Pablo life is simple. You take love where you find it, because who knows when it will come again.”

  “Love?”

  Elena shook her head with mock pity. “All women love Frazer. And he loves them in return, with all the generosity of his heart.”

  “Trust me on this, he doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even like me.”

  Elena frowned. “Impossible. Frazer likes all women. He flirts as naturally as he breathes.”

  “He doesn’t like me,” Maggie insisted. “And the feeling’s mutual. Thank God. I will admit I’ve done nothing particularly likable as far as he’s concerned. I’m sure he gets along beautifully with most other women.”

  Elena stared at her. “This is serious,” she said grimly.

  “Hardly. I don’t expect everyone to like me.” Actually that wasn’t true. Maggie did her absolute best to be pleasant and agreeable to almost everyone she met. Ben Frazer was one of the few exceptions. He got under her skin like a poison ivy rash, but she wasn’t about to explain that to Elena.

  “You don’t understand. Are you trying to tell me that Frazer hasn’t tried to seduce you?”

  “Apart from a few rude comments, no.”

  “And has he put his hands on you?”

  “No, to that as well. He’d be sorry if he did.”

  “Frazer isn’t the kind of man who worries about such things,” Elena said, deep in thought. “Drink your beer.”

  “I’d better not. I’m a cheap drunk.”

  Elena looked at her curiously. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that it takes about one beer to affect my good judgment. Two beers and I’m swinging from the chandeliers and singing torch songs. I find it much safer not to drink at all.”

  “If you wanted a safe life you shouldn’t have come to San Pablo, señorita.”

  “Didn’t Frazer tell you? I’m looking for my sister. He was hoping he’d find some lead—”

  “He didn’t say anything about your sister. He said you were a rich tourist out for a little excitement and he was going to provide it for you. I promise you, he can be very exciting.”

  Maggie reached for the beer. It was strong and skunky and delicious, and she swallowed a good third of it. He hadn’t even asked Elena if she’d seen a tall, redheaded beauty. Damn the man! “Where did he go?” she demanded.

  “The Hungry Dog. It’s a bar down the street…where do you think you’re going?”

  Maggie had already risen. She took another deep swig of the beer. Dutch courage, she thought. Or San Pablo courage. “I’m going to go find him and remind him why he brought me here.”

  Elena raised her eyebrows. “I thought you said you weren’t involved with him. He won’t like being dragged back here, even for sex.”

  “I’m not interested in sex or in dragging him back here!” Maggie protested. “I want him to do his job so I can get back home.” She started toward the door, but Elena was faster, blocking the way.

  “You’re not going anywhere, señorita,” Elena said. “I promised Frazer I would keep an eye on you and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  “Fine. Keep an eye on me. I don’t mind the company.” She tried to dart around her, but Elena shifted quickly, still blocking her way.

  “I’m bigger than you are, señorita,” she warned.

  Maggie didn’t even blink. “Yeah, but I’m fast and determined. You can come with me or get out of my way—those are your two choices.”

  Elena glared at her. And then a slow, rich laugh burbled out of her throat. “Does Frazer have any idea what he’s gotten himself into with you?”

  “If he doesn’t he’s about to find out.”

  “This I must see. All right, little one. We’ll go find your lost man and you can give him a piece of your mind. Want to finish your beer first?”

  She took it and drained it, looked at the empty bottle and then sighed. “I’d sell my soul for a Diet Coke,” she said mournfully.

  “That’s about the going rate in San Pablo for such luxuries. Have you changed your mind?”

  “Follow me,” Maggie said recklessly, starting toward the door.

  A broad grin lit Elena’s face. “No, niña. This is my neighborhood. If you want to find Frazer, you follow me.”

  * * *

  FRAZER LEANED BACK IN HIS chair, peering through the cloud of smoke. The pile of winnings at his elbow was substantial, but he hadn’t come to the Hungry Dog to play poker with the cream of the San Pablo underworld. He’d come for information, and so far he’d gotten nada.

  He couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that someone was watching him. Following him. It made no sense—he wasn’t the one in any potential danger. As far as he knew, no one connected him with Stella Brown’s lover, any more than they knew what possible use Maggie might be. There was no reason to think anyone might be watching him.

  The whiskey was watered down, the cards were marked and Carlos Salazar was a cagey old bastard who wasn’t telling him a damned thing he didn’t already know. Ben Frazer wasn’t in a good mood.

  “What do you think of the elections, my friend?” Carlos asked lazily, squinting at his cards through eyes made bleary with too much smoke and whiskey. “You think Morales stands a chance against the Generalissimo?”

  “If the good general doesn’t manage to have him killed first,” Frazer said calmly.

  “He hasn’t managed it yet. You’d think with the thousands of soldiers at his command he’d have more success in ending one troublesome life, but no. He’s even made overtures to some…acquaintances of mine, to see if they were willing to take on the job.” Salazar squinted his bleary eyes in the semblance of a smile.

  “And did your friend take the job?”

  Salazar grinned his particularly ugly grin. “I told him not to.”

  “That surprises me. The Generalissimo has always been oblivious to some of the more unconventional dealings of this area. I would imagine The Professor would be a lot more interfering in some of your activities.”

  Salazar shrugged. �
��Call me a foolish old sentimentalist,” he said. “Perhaps I love my country even more than I love my income. The Professor might be a welcome change from the Generalissimo.”

  “Perhaps,” Frazer murmured, unconvinced.

  “And what’s this I hear about the little American you have stashed over at Elena’s place? Why are you here with old men like me, rather than warming her bed?”

  Frazer grinned. “Women can wait. You don’t think I’m at her beck and call, do you?”

  “If you think women can wait then you’ve never been married, my friend,” Salazar said sagely. “I hear she’s looking for her sister. A tall redhead.”

  Frazer shouldn’t have been surprised that Salazar knew his business. News always traveled fast in San Pablo. He shrugged. “We don’t spend much time talking.”

  Salazar laughed. “You’re too good a poker player, Frazer. You don’t give anything away. So what about her sister?”

  “I’m sleeping with her, not the sister.”

  “I should hope so. Or The Professor might have your huevos for lunch.”

  Frazer picked up the hand that Salazar had just dealt him. Three jacks and two losers. Salazar wouldn’t want to lose that substantial pile of money in the middle of the scarred table.

  “I don’t think so.” He pushed the two smaller cards toward the dealer, one of Salazar’s silent compatriots. “I’ll take two.”

  He heard the noise from a distance, the sound of breaking glass, the voices raised in warning. And above it, Elena’s rich laugh. What the hell was Elena doing here? She’d promised to watch over Maggie and make sure she didn’t get into trouble.

  He didn’t move, though it took all his concentration to keep utterly still as he took the two cards that were dealt him. He was about to turn them over when the door to the back room opened, revealing his worst nightmare. Maggie Brown, in a righteously pissed-off mood.

  The room froze into silence with her approach, and Frazer leaned back in the chair lazily, watching her. Knowing that everyone was a fascinated witness to this confrontation.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, coming up to him. She looked tousled, softened a bit despite her rage. Her hair had come loose, and it was a tangle of waves around her face. Her khaki shirt was unbuttoned an extra button, revealing a surprisingly generous cleavage that was doubtless accentuated by her deep, furious breathing.

  “Playing cards,” he said lazily, reaching for the two he’d been dealt. He put them in his hand, controlling his groan of dismay. A full house was all well and good, but he really wasn’t thrilled to have drawn two queens. A red one for Stella, a black one for Maggie. And she was looking positively black-hearted with rage.

  Still, it was a good enough hand to win the pot, and he pushed his substantial winnings toward the center of the table, ignoring her.

  Big mistake. She stalked up to the edge of the table, caught it and dumped it before anyone could stop her, tumbling the cards and the money into a hopeless jumble on the floor.

  He heard Elena’s hiss of horror as he saw all three of Salazar’s men draw their guns. He almost dove in front of her, a strangely quixotic urge, when Salazar spoke.

  “Basta!” he said. “Let’s see how Americans discipline their women.”

  Oh, crap, he thought. Now they probably expected him to backhand her across the face to prove his manliness.

  “Hell, we don’t discipline our women,” he drawled, not moving from his chair. “We cower in fear.”

  “You son of a bitch!” Maggie snarled at him. “You haven’t even asked—”

  It was time for him to make his move. He rose, caught Maggie by the shoulders and hauled her up against him, planting his mouth down on hers and silencing her in a time-honored tradition.

  He could hear the shouts of approval from Salazar and his men. He could hear Elena’s snort of laughter. He could taste the beer and spices of Maggie Brown’s soft mouth.

  And then he stopped thinking altogether, when she kissed him back.

  CHAPTER SIX

  TROUBLE, HE THOUGHT, nothing but trouble, as he wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her closer. Her arms were around his neck, and he wasn’t quite sure how they got there when she’d looked as if she wanted to kill him, but there was no question that she was kissing him back. That she’d opened her mouth for him, that it was her tongue touching his and he was suddenly, instantly randy, so much so that he would have swept the winnings off the table and dumped her there himself if it had been available.

  But she’d already done that, he realized, as reality began to intrude. And a moment later he felt her body tense, and before he could move her foot came down hard on his at the same moment she shoved him away.

  She was wearing her damned high heels, and even through his heavy boots it hurt like hell. He cursed, fluently, and Salazar laughed.

  “Your woman doesn’t know how to respect you, Frazer,” he said cheerfully. “But since she managed to destroy our little game I’m sure you’ll agree that the winnings are mine. I would have won that last hand anyway. I had three kings.”

  Frazer wasn’t about to argue when he could do no more than growl. That had been a nice piece of change, and unlike his little banker-companion he didn’t have enough money to throw away.

  Maggie was standing there, breathing deeply, her rigid body daring him to strike her. He’d never hit a woman in his life, at least not since kindergarten when Betsy Morton had punched his best friend, but at that moment he was as strongly tempted as he’d ever been. “Where’s my sister?” she demanded in a strangled voice.

  “You’re looking for your sister, señorita?” Salazar broke in, before he could silence her again. “Well, why didn’t Frazer mention that? I’m the man who knows about such things. Carlos Salazar, at your service.”

  Maggie turned her stony gaze to Salazar, and Frazer wondered if she’d underestimate the plump, genial-looking old man smiling at her. Salazar would feed his own mother to the dogs for money. If he even knew who his mother was.

  Maggie fell for it hook, line and sinker. “Do you have any idea where my sister might be, Señor Salazar? Frazer promised to help me find her, but then he disappeared and I didn’t feel like waiting.”

  “You must learn patience, little one,” Salazar said with a wheezy laugh. “Frazer would have gotten around to finding out what he doesn’t know, sooner or later.”

  Salazar’s choice of words had been deliberate, and Frazer tensed, wondering if there was any way he could interfere.

  “I’ve heard there’s a tall, redheaded American woman in the western district, up in the mountains,” Salazar said, casting a mischievous glance at Ben’s stoic expression. “You’ll find her there, I expect. Frazer knows the route.”

  She cast a bitter look at him. “He told me he heard she was in the southern region.”

  “By the lakes? No, señorita. But then, that’s why Frazer has come here, is it not? To find out exactly where your sister is? He knows where to find the truth, even if it takes him a while to get to it.”

  “Gracias, Salazar,” Ben said in a gritty voice. Salazar’s beaming smile was malicious. “I am always eager to help my old friend. And such a lovely woman as well.”

  Ben reached over to take her arm. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

  As he’d half expected, she tried to jerk free, but he wasn’t about to release her. Salazar was enjoying himself, but he was still as deadly as a cobra, and Frazer needed to get her safely out of there. And then start convincing her that her sister, Stella, was nowhere near the mountainous western provinces.

  “I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” she said in a furious voice, but he ignored her, dragging her toward the door.

  “Go with Frazer, señorita,” Salazar said. “He’ll be able to find your sister better than anyone. And Frazer…”

  “What?” He didn’t bother disguising his furious snarl.

  “You might keep your eye out for El Galli
to Loco. Word has it he has an interest in The Professor.”

  Damn Salazar. That was what he’d been trying to find out, and Salazar had known all along. He halted, still holding Maggie’s elbow in a tight grip. “You think so? He’s an old man—I thought he’d retired.”

  Salazar grinned in the dim light, exposing his impressive false teeth. “I know so, old friend. And he’s ten years younger than I am. In the prime of life. Still more than a match for you.”

  “Why didn’t you try to stop him?”

  “What can I say? I brokered the deal.”

  Frazer’s response was pungent and obscene, enough that even the unflappable Elena drew in a shocked hiss of breath, but Salazar just laughed, unmoved.

  “Don’t worry, Frazer,” he said in his rich, San Pablo Spanish. “I just like to even up the odds a little bit. It makes things more interesting. Enjoy your pretty little one tonight. Her anger should make it even better.”

  “If she doesn’t stab me in the throat,” Frazer said gloomily. He was back in possession of his emotions. Salazar knew he’d gotten to him with the mention of El Gallito, but that was all he planned to give up.

  “Do her once for me, old friend. If I were ten years younger she wouldn’t be leaving this room with you.”

  “If you were ten years younger I’d ram those shiny new teeth down your throat,” Ben said coolly.

  Salazar chuckled. “Feeling possessive, are you? I don’t blame you. She’s a pretty little thing.”

  “She’s a pain in the butt. I had no intention of taking her into the mountains.”

  “Of course you didn’t. I find it much more interesting this way. Besides, I gave you El Gallito. Surely that’s worth something.”

  Maggie tried to yank her arm free, but he wasn’t about to release her. “What are you talking about?” she demanded in English.

  “Come along, niña,” Elena said. “You really wouldn’t want to know.”