Moonlight Lady

by Barbara Faith

Lisa slept, and when she awoke, Sam was sitting next to her on the bed.

  “What’s that smell?” he asked when she opened her eyes.

  “Delight’s poultices.” She took the one off her face, then the one from her hip and put them on the floor beside the bed. “I think they helped,” she said. “I feel better.” She yawned and stretched. “Have you ever seen a voodoo ceremony?

  “Yeah, once in Haiti. Why?”

  “Delight told me there’s going to be voodoo here in the village tomorrow night.”

  “And you want to see it?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “It’ll scare the pants off you.”

  She grinned. “That’s one way to get ‘em off.”

  He grinned back. “Now I know you’re feeling better.”

  “I’ll be up and chasing you around the room by tomorrow.”

  “I certainly hope so.” He hesitated, wondering how to tell her what he was going to do. But because she had to know, he said, “I’m going to take a little ride tonight.”

  Her heart gave an uncomfortable leap. “You’re going back to the hotel?”

  He nodded. “I’ve got to get to Hargreaves, Lisa. By now he’s probably frantic, wondering what happened to us. I’ve got to get word to him.”

  She sank down onto the pillows. “The waiter at the hotel knew Benjamin, Sam. He helped him. Benjamin hit him so it would look like he wasn’t involved, but he was. If he was, then maybe other people at the hotel are, too.” She clasped her hands together. “It’s dangerous, Sam. Please don’t go.”

  “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I’ve got to get to Hargreaves.” He took her hands. “You’ll be safe here. If Hargreaves is still in Maroon Town and I find him, I’ll bring one of his men back with me. I’ll make sure he gets you to Kingston.” She didn’t want to go to Kingston, not without him.

  “If Hargreaves isn’t there, I’ll be back,” Sam went on. “It’ll take me two hours at the most.” He put his arms around her. “It’s going to be all right, Lisa. So don’t worry, okay?”

  She wanted to tie him to the bed, sit on him, hold him, do anything she had to to keep him with her. But because she couldn’t, she said, “Sure, Sam. I understand. Whatever you say.”

  They had dinner that night with Horatio and Delight, more fried plantains, roasted breadfruit and scrambled eggs. Sam and Horatio each had a Red Stripe; she and Delight had coffee.

  “I’m going to ride over to the hotel in Maroon Town,” Sam said when they finished. “Need to use the phone there.”

  “Be better if you wait till mornin’.” Horatio wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Be mighty hard to find your way back in the dark.”

  “The motorcycle has a light. If I keep on the path I’ll be all right.” Then, thinking that if Hargreaves was still there he could come back for Lisa with one of the police captain’s men, he said, “If I have too hard a time getting there I might have to spend the night. Will you look after Lisa while I’m gone?”

  “‘Course we will,” Horatio said. “Come on. I’ll help you get your machine off the porch.”

  The two men went out; Delight and Lisa followed. She wasn’t happy about Sam’s going back to the hotel. If anything happened to him...

  He started to roll the Harley to the edge of the porch, but had trouble moving it.

  He bent down and, using the flashlight, looked at the tires. The front one was flat. He looked closer and saw that it had been slashed.

  “What is it?” Horatio asked. “What be the matter?”

  “Tire’s slashed.”

  “What?” Horatio bent down. “That can’t be! Nobody’d do that.”

  But somebody had. Somebody who knew who he was and why he was here.

  He couldn’t leave now; there was no way out.

  Chapter 13

  “Who would do such a thing?” Lisa closed the bedroom door. “My God, Sam, somebody knows who you are. We’ve got to leave. It’s too dangerous for you here.”

  “We can’t go anywhere until I get the tire fixed. Horatio knows somebody in the next village who has a repair shop. He’ll take me there tomorrow.”

  “We could start walking right now.”

  Sam shook his head. In the shape Lisa was in she wouldn’t last half a mile. And he couldn’t leave her here, not when somebody was on to them. The smell of danger was in the air; he hated having her exposed to it. If he couldn’t find Hargreaves, he’d take her to Kingston himself. If he could get the tire on the Harley fixed.

  Hargreaves had said Montoya was probably headed for Port Antonio. As soon as he got Lisa safely to Kingston he’d ditch the Harley, get a car and head for the coast. But right now she was his first concern. Maybe she shouldn’t be, but that’s the way it was.

  “Do you think it was Benjamin who cut the tire?” she asked. “Do you think he followed us here?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. He might have arranged for somebody else to do it.”

  “But how would he know where we are?”

  “Jungle telephone,” Sam said with a shrug. “These people have a way of getting news to each other. We’re strangers, we stick out like a couple of sore thumbs. Word would get around that we’re staying here.”

  He hesitated, wondering how much he should tell her about the way the drug business worked. And it was a business. Big business.

  “A lot of these mountain people grow ganja,” he said. “Kinda like the old-time moonshiners who used to make illegal whiskey. The difference is that ganja is grown for the big-time operators.” Sam sat down on the bed, pulled off his boots and shucked off his jeans. “It works like a syndicate,” he went on. “Small farmers like Horatio...” He shook his head. “I’m not saying Horatio is doing it, but probably a few of the village men are. They grow the stuff under the control of a district boss who works for somebody else, who works for the syndicate bosses. A poor farmer can make more money than he’s ever made before by growing ganja.”

  He lay back on the bed, hands under his head, and montioned for her to sit beside him. “I don’t blame the village farmers. Maybe they don’t realize that by growing ganja they’re hooking kids who eventually will try something stronger—coke, angel dust, crack or the new stuff Montoya and Reitman are going to ship out. It’s a hell of a lot more dangerous than any of the other drugs that’re currently on the market.”

  “That’s terrible, Sam.”

  He nodded. “The dealers will peddle it to kids who’ll peddle it to other kids, and they’ll all try it because they’re always looking for something new. Another thrill, another high. Some of them will OD. Some of them, like...” He stopped and looked away.

  “Like who?” Lisa asked.

  “Danny. My kid.”

  “Oh, Sam. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “He was fourteen. I didn’t know he was into drugs. Can you imagine that? I was his father, but I was so busy working for the DEA I didn’t know my own son was using.”

  He swung off the bed and began to pace. “I’m not sure that Margaret—that’s my ex-wife—knew, either. If she did, she didn’t tell me.” He shot Lisa an agonized look. “I don’t blame her,” he said. “It’s my fault. If I’d been around more maybe it wouldn’t have happened. I’d have spotted it, done something about it.

  “I was working undercover with the Tijuana police, setting up a scam to stop a load of coke coming in from Colombia when I got word to call Margaret. She was at the hospital, but I talked to her sister. She told me that Danny had OD’d. I got a flight out of San Diego that night. He was unconscious when I got to the hospital. I sat beside him and held his hand. I told him he was going to be all right, that I was there and I’d take care of him. But he didn’t hear me. He never regained consciousness. He died before I could tell him one more time how much I loved him.”

  Lisa reached for his hand.

  “Margaret said it was my fault. She said if I’d been more of a father it wouldn’t have happened. She said— ”

&
nbsp; “She was wrong.” Lisa put her arms around him. “Kids take drugs, Sam. Most of the time it isn’t anybody’s fault.”

  “I should have been there for him. I should have—”

  “Shh,” she said, and drew him to her. She knew how hard it had been for him to tell her this, but she was glad he had confided in her. It helped her understand why he was in Jamaica, how important his work was to him.

  “I don’t know why I told you.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  He reached for his jeans. “I’m going to take a walk.”

  She took the jeans away from him. “No,” she said. “Come to bed with me.”

  He looked at her, his eyes bleak with remembrance. Then he sighed and tossed the jeans over a chair.

  She took her clothes off, then slipped the flour-sack nightgown over her head. They lay down together. She put her arms around him. Tomorrow or the day after they would be on the move again, but for now they could be together like this, here in this humble room in this ramshackle house.

  In a little while he said, “You’d better get some sleep.”

  “I’m not tired. Are you?”

  “No.”

  She raised up on her elbow and looked down at him. “I’m feeling a lot better,” she said.

  “Oh?”

  She heard the hint of a smile in his voice and waited for him to make the first move. He didn’t. Instead he said, “You’re still not in great shape, Lisa. You’d better get some sleep.”

  She knew then that he was still upset about his son and that it had been a mistake to think making love would help. But oh, how she longed to hold and comfort him. But all she could do was rest a hand on his leg and say, “Good night, Sam. Sleep well.”

  “You, too.”

  He lay on his back and looked up at the ceiling, still thinking about his son. Danny would be sixteen now. In another two years he’d have been going to college. If he’d lived. If he hadn’t taken drugs. Fourteen, with his whole life ahead of him. School dances and football games, girls to meet, women to love. But he hadn’t experienced any of it; his life had been over before it had even begun.

  God, how he hated every mother’s son of the bastards who made a living off hooking kids like Danny. He’d promised himself when he sat there holding Danny’s hand that he was going to devote his life to bringing every rotten one of them down. The DEA wanted him full-time. He’d been putting them off because he liked working for the NYPD. But when this was over, when Montoya and Reitman and all of the bums connected to them were behind bars, he’d turn in his NYPD badge and go with the DEA.

  But first he had to get Montoya, take him back to New York to stand trial for murder, as well as for drug running. And he had to make sure that Lisa was safe.

  Lisa. He’d promised himself that they wouldn’t make love again until they had some kind of protection. That meant he couldn’t touch her until all of this was over with and they were back in Kingston. Or Miami. Yeah, he’d see her in Miami in a few weeks. Until then...

  He felt the brush of her leg against his and tried to think about something else. Baseball. He wondered if the Jays would take the series this year. It didn’t help. Okay, think about tomorrow.

  Finding the guy who’d slashed the front tire of the Harley. Getting it fixed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow... Finally all thought faded and at last he slept.

  He came awake slowly. Lisa’s arm was around his waist, her breast against his chest, one leg thrown over his. His body was tight as a drum, hard as a rock. He tried to remember why he’d thought they shouldn’t make love. Didn’t want to remember.

  She sighed and moved closer, unconsciously rubbing against him when she did. He clenched his teeth. Couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Okay, maybe if he just held her and touched her it would be enough.

  It wasn’t.

  He rubbed his hand across her breast, cupped it and ran a thumb over the tip.

  She stirred, and he kissed her. “Lisa?” he whispered against her lips. “Lisa?”

  “Umm,” she said, stretching, leaning her body into his.

  He squeezed the pebbled tip of her breast and the kiss deepened. He ran his hand down over her belly and hips and began to stroke her.

  She nuzzled against his throat.

  “Have to touch you like this,” he said.

  “Me, too,” she whispered, and began to stroke him.

  “I guess you know what you’re doing to me,” he said against her lips.

  “Guess I do.”

  “You know what’s going to happen if we don’t stop?”

  “Uh-huh.” She moved her body so that she was lying half-under him. “I love it when you touch me, Sam. Love touching you like this.”

  He smothered his moan against her mouth. “Listen,” he said, fighting for reason, “we haven’t been taking any precautions. We don’t have any protection. We...” All thought, all reason fled. There was only now and the terrible need.

  He rolled her beneath him and she lifted herself to him, warm and ready and trembling with eagerness. She clutched his hips and took him inside her. She encircled his back with her legs and made him a prisoner of her body.

  They moved slowly, silently together, both of them aware of Horatio and Delight, who slept in the other room. He wanted to tell her how he felt enclosed in her warmth this way, how her eagerness excited him, that he felt enveloped by her, a part of her.

  He kissed her bruised face, her closed eyes, her cheeks and her lips. He whispered, “Ah, Lisa. Lisa.” And moved slowly, deeply within her.

  She caressed his shoulders and his back. She turned her face into his throat, whispering, “So good, Sam. So good.” And held him close, luxuriating in this slow, sweet rise of passion.

  Their cadence quickened and a whimper started low in her throat. Her body heated and she became like a wild thing beneath him. She rose and fell with him, gasping with pleasure, whispering urgent pleas against his mouth. When it happened, she buried her face against his shoulder to smother her cry, not even aware that in the throes of passion she nipped his skin.

  It sent him over the edge. He reeled out of control, holding her close because he was afraid that if he didn’t he’d spin right out into space.

  They held on to each other. He kissed her again and again and at last, when their hearts returned to a normal beat, he made as though to move. “Don’t leave me, Sam,” she said. “Not yet.”

  “I’m too heavy for you, sweetheart.”

  “No. Stay. Please stay.”

  “Then this way.” He rolled so that she lay on top of him. “Like this,” he said. “Sleep like this, Lisa.”

  She burrowed into him. Already half-asleep, she kissed the shoulder she had nipped and whispered, “I love you, Sam.”

  “Lisa?” he said. “Lisa, listen.” But she didn’t hear him; she was fast asleep.

  He hadn’t counted on love. This between them was pretty great. Great? Hell, it was sensational. He was crazy about her. But love?

  He’d been telling himself for the last couple of years that he didn’t need or want love. He wasn’t a guy who led with his chin, who rushed into something. He and Margaret had known each other for almost three years before he got around to asking her to marry him. Three years and he really hadn’t known her at all.

  He’d known Lisa for what? Almost a week? They were good together. He loved making love with her, and when they got back to the States he’d keep on seeing her even if it meant spending half his salary flying back and forth to Miami. But there was a catch to that: he didn’t think she was the kind of woman who’d be content with a prolonged affair. She was little, she was sweet, but she was also feisty. If this went on too long she’d give him an ultimatum. Fish or cut bait. Put up or shut up. Marriage or adios.

  The thought of marriage made him break out in a sweat. He wasn’t ready; he might never be ready. He... She wiggled against him, trying to find a more comfortable spot, and he felt himself grow again. What was the matter with him? Had he let hi
mself be bewitched by a pint-size dame who could turn him on with a look or a touch?

  What was he going to do about her? What in the hell was he going to do?

  * * *

  Sam And Horatio left right after breakfast the next morning.

  “The village is four or five miles from here,” Sam told Lisa. “I’ll be pushing the Harley, so it’ll be harder than walking. Take us maybe two hours. Don’t know how long it’ll take to fix the tire, if it can be fixed. But don’t worry, I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Always.” He kissed her. “Stay inside today, Lisa. Don’t even go out on the porch.”

  “I won’t.” She stood in the doorway while he and Horatio got the Harley off the porch, and watched until they disappeared through the trees at the end of the village. She’d said she wouldn’t worry, but she would. Sam had to get the Harley fixed, but she hated his going off without her.

  She helped Delight in the kitchen. She fretted in her room. By four that afternoon Sam hadn’t returned.

  “Don’t you worry,” Delight said. “They be back soon.”

  Five o’clock came. Six. And still there was no sign of Sam and Horatio.

  Lisa paced through the small house. She didn’t know what to do. What if something had happened to Sam? What if Benjamin had followed him to the next village? Or Montoya?

  By seven-thirty even Delight was concerned. “This not be like Horatio,” she said. “No matter where that man go, he always be home by dinnertime.”

  She fixed yams and breadfruit for their supper, but neither of them could eat. “Horatio know there goin’ to be voodoo tonight,” Delight said as she cleared their plates. “Never knew that man to miss voodoo.”

  “What time does it start?”

  “‘Bout ten, missus. Sure they goin’ to be back by then.”

  But they weren’t.

  Lisa kept going to the front door and looking out. Finally, because it was dark, she went out onto the porch and peered through the darkness, hoping she’d see them coming past the houses. At a quarter to ten she heard the sound of drums.

  “Voodoo be startin’,” Delight told her.