by Anne Stuart
Since she couldn’t very well go without him, and Salazar had said all he was going to say, Frazer simply nodded, heading out the door with the two women, one hostile, one amused.
Maggie was wise enough to keep quiet until they got out into the alleyway. “What did he say to you, you lying son of a—”
“Watch your mouth, Maggie,” he drawled. The word hung between them, loaded. He’d done more than watch her mouth. And she’d responded, to his everlasting shock.
“Wait till we get back to the hotel, niña,” Elena murmured. “You never know who might be listening.”
It was dark enough in the alleyway that Frazer didn’t have to conceal his surprise. Elena was one of the shrewdest, toughest women he knew, and she didn’t have much use for the rest of her gender. And yet she was surprisingly solicitous of his pain-in-the-butt companion. Not like Elena at all.
He waited until they were inside the small lobby of Elena’s hotel. “What the hell did you mean, bringing her there?” he demanded in his fluent San Pablo dialect.
“Speak English, Frazer,” Elena admonished him in that language. “It’s rude to hold a conversation that other people can’t understand.”
He was not only fluent in San Pablo Spanish but adept at swear words, and he let loose with a torrent that would have made a sailor blush. Elena only smiled. “Behave yourself,” she said sternly. “The niña would have gone out alone looking for you, and heaven knows what kind of trouble she would have gotten herself into. It was lucky I decided to look after the poor baby.”
“She’s probably older than you,” he growled, lapsing into English.
“Only in years, Frazer. She’s as innocent as a babe when it comes to men like you.”
“You may as well speak in Spanish if you’re not going to include me in the conversation,” Maggie broke in, clearly irritated.
“Go up to bed,” Frazer growled.
“Not until you answer some questions. Who’s El Gallito? And why were we heading south when my sister is in the mountains?”
“That’s what Salazar says. What makes you think he’s to be trusted?” Frazer countered, annoyed. He’d hoped she’d missed the reference to El Gallito.
“What makes you think I’d trust you?” she snapped.
“Because you were fool enough to come with me. If you don’t trust me then why the hell did you hire me?”
“Because I didn’t have any choice. Now I do. I imagine Señor Salazar could find someone to help me—”
“You know what Salazar said when we left?” he asked her in a silky voice. “He told me to do you one time for him. And that if he were ten years younger you wouldn’t have left the room. He wasn’t talking about choice, either, sugar. You go back there and he’s not going to give a damn about those ten years.”
She looked shocked, and he muttered another, obscure curse word. Elena was right—she was an absolute infant in the ways of San Pablo. If he wasn’t there watching out for her she might disappear into one of Salazar’s cribs and never be heard from again.
He didn’t like to think what The Professor would say to that. He didn’t like to think how he’d feel about it himself, either. He didn’t like her, that much was sure. She was prissy and annoying and inconvenient, and the last thing he wanted to do was play nursemaid.
Of course, the first thing he wanted to do was take her up to that bed, strip off her clothes and spend the rest of the night helping her grow up. The fact that he wasn’t going to touch her again wasn’t helping his thoroughly bad mood.
“Go up to bed, Maggie,” he said again, weary now. “If we want to get a decent start you’ll need to get some sleep.”
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“Are you offering to share the bed?” He didn’t bother waiting for her outraged denial. “I’ll be sleeping on the floor. Don’t worry—I’ve slept in worse places.”
“I’m not worried. I just don’t want any unexpected visitors.”
He allowed himself a slow, lazy grin, one that effectively terrified most men. She blinked at him, uncertain what to think. “They won’t get past me. Tomorrow we’ll head south…”
“West,” she said. “Salazar said she was in the west, in the mountains.”
“And you believe him?”
“Isn’t that why we came here? Why you were with him? To find out where Stella is? Well, he told us.”
“He certainly did,” Frazer said in a grim voice. “We’ll head into the mountains. Fair warning, though—the roads aren’t nearly as good as the ones we traveled on today.”
“Those were good roads?”
“San Pablo’s finest highways,” he lied. “Go to sleep, Maggie. I promise not to wake you when I come in.”
She sure as hell didn’t like that idea, though he wasn’t sure what was bothering her. Whether it was going up there alone or the knowledge that he was going to be joining her.
She had nothing to fear from him. He wasn’t going to touch her again, no matter how tempting. He glanced over at Elena, wondering whether she might be interested in a little distraction for old time’s sake. He doubted it.
He looked at Maggie’s cute little butt disappearing up the stairs. It was going to be a long, hard night.
In more ways than one.
* * *
THE MAN SLIPPED OUT of the crowded bar, humming softly under his breath. He owed Salazar a debt for this one, though Salazar had no idea he’d been there in the shadows, watching, listening. No one had thought to look closely at the old man drinking whiskey and smoking cigarettes, no one had wondered how he’d gotten in there.
Part of his stock in trade. He could wander in anywhere, and no one would notice. Not even Salazar, who had half a dozen armed guards watching over him at every moment.
He could have succeeded where a dozen others had failed, killed Salazar and been gone before anyone realized what happened. But he had no reason to kill him. Not unless someone paid him. El Gallito Loco didn’t waste his talents for free.
Still, he’d warned Frazer, and El Gallito could have done without that. Not that Frazer was any match for him. Maybe once, long ago, he’d gotten the better of him. Or, to be completely accurate, twice. But it wouldn’t happen again. El Gallito was on his guard, and Frazer was distracted by the girl.
They were heading up into the mountains, and somewhere in that rough terrain was the headquarters of Ramon Morales de Lorca y Antonio, known affectionately as The Professor because of his studious looks and learned manner. And if Frazer thought he wasn’t going to end up taking the girl there, then El Gallito would set him straight.
Two days before the elections were done with, two days to finish with The Professor and ensure the Generalissimo’s future. And his own.
It could be done. It would be done. Or El Gallito would die trying.
* * *
MAGGIE OPENED HER EYES slowly, the heat of the room pressing down around her. It was still dark, the bed was a hollowed-out nest beneath her and she wasn’t alone.
She stretched out a hand, very tentative, but there was no one on the right side of the bed. She moved her foot to the left, but still nothing.
And then she realized that her head was about to explode.
The moan that slid from her throat was unconscious and heartfelt. It wasn’t fair! She’d had one single bottle of beer and she had a merciless hangover. Her mouth tasted like cotton, her head pounded and she felt as if she’d been dragged along the ragged length of San Pablo. Which, in fact, she had.
A disembodied voice floated out of the darkness. “You can’t be feeling that bad. Elena said you only had one beer and you got to sleep in the bed. I had too much whiskey and a mattress on the floor and I’m feeling quite chipper.”
Maggie rolled over onto her stomach and moaned into the pillow. “Do you have to be so damned perky?” she groaned. “I wake up slowly.”
“Perky’s my middle name. And you don’t have the luxury of lying around, bright eyes. We’d better
get the hell out of here before Salazar decides he’s not too old for you.”
He’d come to stand by the bed, looming over her, but she wasn’t about to look at him. “I need a shower,” she muttered into the pillow.
“And I need a shave. We’ll both have to do without. You nearly blew it last night, but I’m too noble to abandon you as you deserve. Up and at ‘em, Magnolia.”
“Don’t call me that.” She rolled over on her back to glare at him. Big mistake. He was shirtless, sleepy-looking, unshaven and oddly, unsettlingly tempting. She couldn’t still be drunk, could she? Not on one beer.
“Out of bed, Maggie, or I’ll drag you out myself. I want to see if you’re wearing that tiger-striped outfit again.”
“It was leopard. And I threw it out.”
“Tell me you’re lying, angel! That outfit’s gonna haunt my dreams.”
All right, so he wasn’t going to go away. She sat up. “We’re heading west.” It wasn’t a question.
And he wasn’t about to argue. “We’re heading west,” he said, clearly resigned. “But it won’t be my fault if we end up on a wild-goose chase. Salazar’s the last man to trust—he’s head of the San Pablo crime world. He doesn’t do anything unless there’s something in it for him.”
“Who better to get information from?” He wasn’t going to move, Maggie decided, and she was foolish to hesitate. After all she was wearing boxers and a T-shirt—more than enough to cover anything of interest to him. Ignoring him, she threw back the covers and got out of bed.
“Maybe the man you hired to be your guide?” Frazer countered. He was looking at her, letting his eyes run over her as she stood there.
“Maybe I’m having second thoughts.”
He didn’t move. “Say the word, sugar. I’ve got better things to do than haul your ass around San Pablo while you bitch at me. Yes or no, Magnolia Brown.”
He was standing too close to her in the dark, hot room, though in fact he hadn’t moved. There was no reason to think he was asking for anything more than her trust. No reason to think she was committing to anything more.
But she was. And it frightened her. All she had to do was tell him no, ask Elena to find her a taxi to the airport and she’d be back in the U.S. by nightfall. For all she knew Delia had gone from bad to worse, and she needed at least one of her children with her at the end. Even though she almost certainly would have preferred it to be Stella, her flighty soul mate, and not the dull, dutiful daughter.
Leave, her mind told her. Get the hell out of this country, away from this man. This man who, oh my God, kissed her last night, she remembered suddenly. No sweet little kiss, either—it had been a scorcher.
It must have been sheer surprise and instinct that had made her kiss him back. That and the effect of the beer.
No, she couldn’t blame the beer for that. It had been his mouth. His undeniably luscious mouth.
“So what is it? Yes or no?”
It took her a moment to gather her distracted thoughts. She took a step back, away from him, and the smothering heat of the room vanished, leaving her chilled. No, she thought. No way, not ever.
“Yes,” she said.
He was completely unimpressed. “Then get your butt in gear. I’ll be in the Jeep.”
The door slammed shut behind him. “ ‘I’ll be in the Jeep,’ “ she muttered in a sarcastic tone. “What the hell am I, your faithful dog?”
She started after him, almost falling over the bedding on the floor. He’d dragged a mattress in to sleep on, and she hadn’t even heard him. What if he’d been Salazar?
Not that she believed for one moment that she had anything to fear from that sweet old man. Frazer was just trying to scare her.
Still, better the devil you know than the devil you don’t know. And she had little doubt that Ben Frazer was a devil indeed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS A FULL HALF HOUR later when Maggie sauntered out to the alleyway behind the old inn. She’d found a lukewarm shower but no such thing as a hair dryer, and while it was still wet her hair lay flat and docile. Five minutes in the Jeep and she was going to look like a gorgon. Not that it mattered. Her only hope was that she’d scare Ben Frazer.
He wasn’t a man who scared easily. The look he gave her as she climbed into the Jeep was so intimidating that a lesser woman might have quailed. But Maggie had made up her mind. She was putting her trust in Ben Frazer’s hard, dangerous hands. She wasn’t going to let him scare her as well.
“I said five minutes,” he growled.
“I said I needed a shower,” she responded with a false sweetness.
“You’re wearing that?”
She glanced down at the simple dress she’d pulled on. “Obviously. What’s wrong with it?”
“Per your orders, we’re heading into the mountains. People don’t wear skirts in the mountains.”
“Tell that to the grandmothers of San Pablo.”
“You sure as hell don’t look like anybody’s grandmother,” he grumbled.
Before she could respond Elena appeared from the back of the hotel. The sun had just risen, but Elena looked more than half asleep.
She said something to Ben, but Maggie couldn’t make out a single bit of meaning in the torrent of rich, rolling words. Whatever she said, Frazer didn’t like it, and even if she couldn’t understand his response she recognized his sentiment.
“As for you, niña, you keep him in line,” Elena said to her in English. “He’s a good man, but a bad little boy. He’s met his match in you, I think.”
“He has not!” Maggie said in horror.
Elena didn’t argue; she simply shoved a package into her hands. It was hard, cold, wrapped in rags. “A present for you, señorita,” she said.
“Back off, Elena,” Frazer grumbled. “We’re already late due to her ladyship’s vanity.”
“Maybe she wanted to be pretty for you?” Elena suggested.
Ben and Maggie protested in unison, but Elena merely smiled wisely. “Go with God,” she said. “Find the little one’s troublesome sister, and watch out for El Gallito.”
Frazer groaned something in Spanish, but this time Maggie understood at least enough of it. “Shut up about El Gallito,” he growled, putting the Jeep into gear.
Elena said nothing, but when Maggie turned to wave goodbye she saw a faintly worried expression on the young woman’s face.
“Just how well do you know Elena?” she asked, turning around and automatically searching for a seat belt before she remembered that Frazer didn’t seem to believe in them.
“In the biblical sense,” he said.
“I wasn’t asking for details. Do you trust her?”
“With my life. Why? What did she give you? A bomb?”
Maggie looked down at the bundle in her lap. “Maybe a charm to protect me from people like you.”
“Elena’s not into witchcraft. She’s too pragmatic. And in case you haven’t figured it out yet, she thinks we make a cute couple.”
“Oh, God!” she said in horror.
“My sentiments exactly,” he drawled. “What’s in the package?”
She unwrapped it gingerly, then let out a sound of awed delight.
Frazer jerked his head to look at her, but he couldn’t see what lay in her lap. “What was that orgasmic sound?”
He was trying to embarrass her, but she was too happy to let him get on her nerves this time. “Don’t be crude, Frazer,” she said calmly. “That’s not a sound you’re ever going to hear from me.” She unwrapped her treasure. “It’s a cold can of Diet Coke,” she said reverently.
He was looking at her as if she’d lost her mind. Which doubtless he probably believed. It wasn’t her problem. The can was icy cold against her fingers, and the anticipation was heavenly.
After a moment of respectful silence she popped the top and drank half of it down, closing her eyes in utter bliss.
She knew he was looking at her. “Watch the road,” she said, not bothering to o
pen her eyes.
“Elena found that for you?” he said in a troubled voice.
She opened her eyes reluctantly. They were already past the outskirts of town, heading into the dawn-lit day. “She did.”
“Hmmmph,” he said. “She must really like you.”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Maggie said, too blissed-out over the can of soda to take offense. “Not everyone finds me so unbearable.”
“Not everyone finds me so unbearable, either,” he drawled.
“Maybe you behave better around other people,” she shot back.
“I doubt it. What you see is pretty much what you get. I just don’t happen to rub people the wrong way. The way I do with you.”
The vision of Ben Frazer, shirtless, hot, gorgeous, rubbing her any way at all was momentarily distracting. Disturbingly so. She made a noncommittal sound, taking another drink. She was right, the wind had already pulled her hair free of the tie. She was going to end up looking like heaven only knew what. Not that it mattered, of course.
“Diet Coke,” Frazer said in a musing voice. “I don’t remember the last time I tasted real live pop.”
“I’m not about to refresh your memory,” Maggie said. “If you want Diet Coke you can go back home.”
“How do you know where back home is?”
“I assume it’s somewhere in the United States. You must have family…”
“Not much family left, sugar. Just a brother out in Los Angeles and a sister in college in Colorado. In case you can’t tell, I’m not really the Southern California type.”
She glanced at him. “No, you seem more like the Idaho survivalist type.”
She’d surprised a laugh out of him. “Not that, either, but it’s closer. I like wandering the world. There are too many interesting places to see, too many people to meet to tie myself down in one place. Maybe eventually I’ll go back. And you’re right, I’ll probably pick someplace at the back end of beyond, though I have to admit politics aren’t of much interest to me.”
“Not even here? They’re in the midst of a revolution, and you don’t care?” she countered, shocked.
He shrugged. “Most leaders are the same, no matter what party they come from.”
