by Anne Stuart
“Yeah, sure,” she said. “I’ll put my life in your hands, why not?”
“You don’t have any other choice. I saved your life back there. I’ll save it again if you don’t annoy me.” His voice was cool and clipped, conveying none of the crazed emotions that were churning beneath him.
“I should be so lucky. What’s the word?”
“What word?”
“How you’re going to warn me?” she prompted with the patience of a saint to an idiot.
“How about bitch?”
“It’ll do,” she said sweetly.
“Let’s get moving,” El Gallito called from his spot a few yards away.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Ben whispered.
“What?”
“I love you, too.”
She kicked him in the shin.
His limp didn’t make progress any faster, and he exaggerated it just enough to slow them down more. El Gallito soon lost his amusement over the situation and began shoving Maggie in the back, the one tactic that would make Frazer pick up his feet. He glanced at his watch in disbelief. It wasn’t yet ten in the morning, yet they’d been walking for hours.
There were birds wheeling and calling overhead, and he knew what they’d find just over the next rise. Every muscle in his body tensed. El Gallito’s gun didn’t have a silencer, but he was a man who was far too handy with a razor, and he could cut Maggie’s throat before Ben even turned around. All he could think to do was throw himself backward when the time came, knocking her out of harm’s way. It was a weak plan, but the only thing he could come up with at the spur-of-the-moment.
He heard the music first, and he stifled a miserable groan. What rotten timing, on top of everything else! The guitars and flutes floated over the treetops on a gentle breeze, and overhead the sun was shining. It was much too beautiful a day to die.
“What’s that?” El Gallito demanded.
Ben halted, just a few yards away from the outcropping that would display everything, and Maggie barreled into him. When she realized she was touching him she put her hands out to shove him away, and it was easy enough to scoot her around behind him while he concentrated on distracting El Gallito.
“What do you think it is?” he replied. “That’s the problem with you nationalistas—no imagination.”
El Gallito’s bleak eyes narrowed. “The fool isn’t getting married!”
“Sounds like it to me.”
“Married? Who?” Maggie echoed. Before he could stop her she crossed the last few yards to the outcropping, with Ben and El Gallito just seconds beyond her.
Ben only had time to take in the tableau. The priest, the tall, balding bridegroom, the very pregnant bride. And then Maggie shrieked her sister’s name. “Stella!”
It was enough to startle El Gallito. Ben was on him before he could fire the gun, and the shot went wild, disappearing into the trees. “Run, damn it,” he shouted over his shoulder as he struggled with the assassin’s fierce strength. He’d faced his razors before, but he’d been armed himself, and even so he still had the scars to prove it. The outcome wasn’t nearly so optimistic this time.
He could hear the shouts from the valley, and he knew Ramon’s men would be there in moments, though he wasn’t quite sure whether he had moments or not. El Gallito had a ten-inch-long razor in one hand, and he was using all his force to bring it closer, closer to his throat. One second of weakness and he’d slash his jugular. He really didn’t want to bleed to death in the mountains, just when Ramon had accomplished what they’d worked so hard for.
Then again, he’d told Maggie he loved her and gotten kicked for his troubles. Maybe he’d be better off dead.
The blade was moving closer, closer to his neck. He was stronger than El Gallito, younger, but part of his concentration was on Maggie. “Get…the…hell…out of here!” he wheezed, wondering if they were going to be his last words.
And then El Gallito collapsed on top of him in a dead heap. The razor was caught between their bodies, and he felt it nick his throat before it fell to the ground. He looked up, and Maggie was standing over them, a huge rock in her hand. There was blood on the rock, and he realized she must have clobbered El Gallito with it.
The assassin was either unconscious or dead, and Ben didn’t really care which. He shoved his body aside, just as Maggie dropped the heavy rock and brushed her hands clean.
“Now we’re even,” she said to Frazer. And then she turned to face her long lost, almost married, very pregnant sister.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MAGGIE BROWN WAS NOT in a very good mood, considering it was her sister’s wedding day, she was about to become an aunt, and feckless Stella had finally found someone worth sticking with. Ramon Morales de Lorca y Antonio was a far cry from the romantic revolutionary Maggie had been imagining. Tall, stoop-shouldered, balding and bespectacled, he looked just like his nickname, The Professor. And Stella, silly, romantic, changeable Stella, was obviously, deeply, desperately in love for the first time in her life.
“I can’t believe you’re really here!” she cried, flinging her arms around Maggie and pressing her against her huge, pregnant belly. “I told Ramon I wouldn’t marry him unless my family could come to the wedding, but then when the little one started acting like he was going to make an early appearance I decided I was being silly. When Mother said you were already here I kept waiting for you to show up, but then Ramon said Ben was looking after you and I figured, hey, who better to look after my twin sister than the stud of San Pablo? Not that he’s really a stud—he hasn’t had a woman in more than a year, Ramon says. He’s looking for the right woman, which I highly doubt because even though Ramon is the kind of man who wants to settle down, I don’t think Ben will ever be.”
“You talked with Mother?” Maggie broke through the stream of consciousness that was Stella’s usual mode of conversation to get to what was important. And anyway, she hadn’t the slightest interest in anything her sister had to say about Ben Frazer.
“Called her a couple of days ago,” Stella said blithely. “Would you ever have thought I’d be so settled down and maternal? I’ve even stopped smoking—Ramon says it’s no good for the baby and besides, how would it look for the First Lady to be a smoker when Ramon is so hot on health issues? For that matter, can you imagine me as a First Lady of a country, even one as tiny as San Pablo? I can’t believe—”
“How is she?”
“How is who?” Stella said blankly.
“Mother. I tried to call her but there was no answer. She’s been very sick, and I was afraid—”
“Maggie!” Stella said. “Don’t tell me you believed her when she told you she was dying? She does that anytime she’s not getting her own way. I’ve been used to it for years. She’s as strong as a horse. She wanted to come to the wedding but I told her she couldn’t choose my china pattern. I don’t even know if I’ll have a china pattern. Anyway, she decided to stay in Las Vegas and come over for the inauguration. I figure I’ll surprise her with the christening. Didn’t want to dump too much on her at one time.”
“Las Vegas?” Maggie was getting dizzy.
“You remember Uncle Joe, don’t you? Of course, he wasn’t really our uncle, and he and Mother were always good friends. Well, his wife died a few months ago, so he showed up at Mother’s door asking her to go to Las Vegas with him and she said yes. I wouldn’t be surprised if she marries him.”
Maggie sat down abruptly, her head spinning. “I’m not taking all this in,” she said faintly.
“Well, of course not, darling. You’ve had a tough time, what with being cooped up with Ben for days and then running into that Chicken Man. I don’t blame you for being upset. But all’s well that ends well, and you can be my maid of honor. Though we’re going to have to hurry.”
“Why?” Maggie asked, half afraid of the answer.
Stella smiled at her brightly. “Because I’m in labor.”
In retrospect it was just as well that Delia hadn’t mad
e it to her daughter’s wedding, Maggie thought later. There were three ceremonies in a row—a civil ceremony, a Catholic ceremony and a long, convoluted traditional San Pablo ceremony that went entirely over Maggie’s head as she held her sister’s hands and helped her breathe. Fortunately the priest who conducted all three ceremonies was also a medic, and Ramon Benjamino was born moments after the last vows had been concluded.
Her new brother-in-law wept tears of joy as he held his new son. His best man, Ben Frazer, kept his distance, and if Maggie felt his eyes on her she did her best to ignore him. Stella was looking, as usual, radiant, and she’d come through the quick labor and delivery with nothing more than some loud screams and a few pungent curses, which the priest graciously ignored. She took one celebratory sip of wine and promptly fell asleep nursing her newborn.
And then there was no one to turn to. Except Ben, looking at her from across the compound. Only a hundred or so strangers between her and him, not enough to cause a real distraction, and he looked as if he was going to come after her, and if he did she wasn’t sure if she could handle it.
“I want to thank you for all that you did.” Her new brother-in-law was by her side, speaking to her in halting English. “I deeply regret that you weren’t brought here sooner, but we were worried you would try to talk Stella out of marrying me.”
“We?” She tore her gaze away from Ben. “You and Stella?”
Ramon shook his head. “Stella told me I was being foolish. Ben thought it would be best to keep you far away from here, and I agreed. In retrospect I can see there was no need, but we thought it better to be careful. I knew you’d be in good hands with Ben, and this place has been a well-kept secret. We really couldn’t afford to let you come here until we were ready to leave.”
We, again. Ben and Ramon. She glanced back at Frazer. “I need to get home,” she said abruptly.
“But Stella was hoping you could stay for a while. It is going to be a difficult time for her, and she could use a sister…”
“I’ve been away from my work too long,” Maggie said. “I’ll come back and visit later, after she’s settled.”
Ramon didn’t look happy, but unlike his cohort he wasn’t the sort of man to force his own way. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll have Ben drive you to Las Palmas—”
“No!” Her protest was loud enough to make several heads turn her way, including Ben’s. “Someone else, please,” she said in a softer voice.
Ramon’s high forehead wrinkled in worry. “Has he offered you any insult? Frazer is my closest friend and adviser, but I would hate to think he’d offended my new sister—”
“No offense,” she said swiftly. “He’s just been dragging me around this country for days. I’m sure he’d prefer to stay and help you move back to the capital. You must have need of him. And I’d just as soon have…someone else drive me.”
“If you wish,” Ramon said reluctantly. “Father Gades is heading back to the city tonight, and he will be glad to take you. Word has come that Generalissimo Cabral has left the country, and the good father wants to pave the way for our arrival. Still, I am concerned for your safety.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. You’ve got El Gallito tied up, and if the Generalissimo has conceded then everything will be fine.”
“But I don’t…” At that moment his wife awoke, and while he was distracted Maggie slipped away. Before he could come up with one more argument. Before Stella could beg her to stay. Before she took one more look at her brand-new nephew and melted.
Before she had to see Ben Frazer again.
Father Gades spoke very little English, which Maggie considered her first lucky break. She waited until they were safely out of the encampment before she curled up on the seat to sleep. There had been no sign of Ben. He was probably out celebrating his close call, thanking God he didn’t even have to say goodbye to her. It was over, the whole dangerous, deceitful, embarrassing mess, and if she ever returned to San Pablo she’d be in complete control of her life and her emotions.
It seemed likely that sooner or later she was going to have to come back. Stella was in love, with a husband, with a baby, with a country. Stella didn’t need her twin sister watching out for her anymore. If she ever really had needed her.
Maybe Frazer was right about one thing. Maybe it was time to start taking care of herself.
She awoke suddenly, disoriented, and for a moment she’d forgotten where she was. The priest’s black sedan had come to a stop, and he was looking at her expectantly. Maggie peered out the window at the tiny airport. She’d made it. And Ben Frazer hadn’t followed her.
Father Gades gave her a long, graceful speech, and while she recognized El Gallito Loco and Frazer, few of the other words made any sense. So she simply smiled and nodded, patting the priest’s hand as he continued to talk to her. Maybe he was looking for a convert, she thought. Or maybe he was just trying to save her soul.
He was still talking when she climbed out of the car and shut the door behind her. Finally he gave up, putting the car into gear and driving away, leaving her alone in the lamplight outside the one low building that comprised Las Palmas International Airport.
And that was when she remembered that her money, her credit cards and her passport were at the bottom of a cliff in the back of a ruined Jeep.
The priest had already disappeared, and she had no choice but to enter the airport. Surely they had some kind of help, travelers’ aid or something. Since the U.S. government wasn’t on particularly friendly terms with Generalissimo Cabral there was no embassy in San Pablo, but there must be someone she could turn to for help. Hell, she was the president-elect’s sister-in-law. Someone would come to her aid.
The airport terminal was a madhouse, people rushing around, voices high-pitched and shrill. It was several minutes before she could even get someone to listen to her, even longer before she tracked down someone who spoke English.
“No more planes tonight, señorita,” the harried man said. “Every plane in San Pablo has left.”
“But why?”
“Generalissimo Cabral, his family, his supporters and his personal bodyguard have commandeered every available jet, plane and helicopter. The General himself left more than an hour ago, and the last plane is taking off even as we speak. I can only suggest you find a hotel room for the night. By tomorrow the planes will return, and we will do our best to get you out on the first one.”
“But I’ve lost my purse,” she said for what seemed like the seventeenth time. “My passport, my money, my credit cards…”
“That is a great deal too bad, señorita, but I’m afraid I can be of no assistance in this matter,” the man said hurriedly. “There are a few of Generalissimo Cabral’s men left behind. Perhaps they can help you.”
“Er…no thanks,” she said, backing away. If worse came to worst she could find her way back to the old section of town and throw herself on Elena’s mercy.
“Wait a minute, señorita,” the man called after her, but she kept moving, until she came up against a solid, immovable form.
She froze. He smelled like garlic and stale flesh and dried blood. It couldn’t be. But it was.
“Señorita Brown,” said the man she knew only as El Gallito Loco. He had a soiled bandage on his head, his neat suit was bloodstained, and his empty eyes were even more terrifying. “How fortunate that we happened to meet up.”
She opened her mouth to scream when she felt the barrel of the gun against her side. “Don’t make a noise and embarrass yourself, lady,” he said in her ear, his voice hoarse. “These men won’t help you. They’ve abandoned the Generalissimo, but they haven’t yet formed an allegiance to Morales. And one lone American woman isn’t of much importance in the midst of the revolution. You just come along quietly.”
She held still. “Why should I?” she countered. “You’re just going to kill me.”
“Maybe not. Maybe I’ll use you to lure Frazer back. I can’t save the Generalissimo, but I have
an old score to settle. With Frazer, and with you. You might have broken my skull. Fortunately I have a hard head. It takes a lot to kill a man like me, señorita. You didn’t even come close.”
“Sorry,” she said briefly. “I should have used more force.”
His hand tightened on her arm, biting into her flesh so that she bit back a yelp of pain. No one was watching. El Gallito was right—there was too much panic and confusion for anyone to pay much attention to one lone woman.
“Come along,” he said again, dragging her. And she had no choice but to stumble along with him as he pulled her toward the exit. Not the front exit, with the lights, but off to the side, where there would be no witnesses.
She wasn’t going to make it out alive, she told herself. She’d survived almost certain death at least twice already—this time her luck had run out.
He pushed her through the door, so hard that she sprawled on the concrete. It took her a moment to scramble to her feet, but the gun was out now, pointing straight at her.
“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” she said calmly. “I should have made you do it in there. Then at least you wouldn’t get away with it.”
“I always get away with it, señorita,” he said politely. “A half-dozen witnesses make little difference. I’ll be following the Generalissimo first thing tomorrow morning, but first I need to take care of a little business.”
“I thought you wanted to kill Frazer, not me.”
“Ah, but then I thought about it, and I decided it would be far more painful for Frazer to have to live, knowing his carelessness brought your death, than to kill him. Death is instantaneous, and I want him to suffer.”
“He’s not going to give a damn if you kill me. Morales might be pissed off, but Ben won’t care.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.”
The voice came out of the darkness, shocking in its suddenness, and El Gallito swerved around, firing wildly toward the sound.
