Stranger Danger

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  If she’d made sure her phone was off, they might still be sleeping. “I’m sorry, Santiago.”

  Despite his maniac speed, he removed one hand from the wheel to touch her. “Stop apologizing,” he told her. “It’s not your fault and like I said, caca paso.”

  Sara nodded. “So what are we doing and where are we going?”

  His short laugh rang hollow. “Good question, chica. I’m working on it. Confiar en mí.”

  “I do trust you. She rested her hand on his thigh and leaned closer. “You know that.”

  “Si.”

  What she needed was reassurance. “When this is over, Santiago, I want to be with you. Whatever happens, however, wherever, I don’t want to lose you again. It was hard enough the first time. I don’t think I could stand a second. Promise me we’ll be together.”

  He guzzled the rest of the beer and tossed the empty bottle onto the passenger floorboard.

  “Voy a hacer changuitos, la muñequita. It’s what I want, too, but I can’t promise, only hope.” Santiago crossed his fingers as he spoke, an echo of his words. “I have a few ideas, but I need a little time to think about whether or not they’ll work.”

  A promise would be better but hope would do for the moment. “How will this all end?” she asked, curiosity fueling the courage to ask.

  Santiago shrugged. “I don’t know. Worst case, we both end up dead or I do. Best case, I work something out with Enrique, if I can, if word hasn’t spread outside the local M13 that Javier is really me. If it has, we’re fucked. They’ll hunt me until they catch me, Sara, and we would always be looking over our shoulders.”

  His words upset her fragile emotions. “But…”

  He lifted one hand from the wheel and put a finger across her lips. “Cállate, querida. Right now we need to figure out where in the hell to go, and then I have to decide what to do. You’ve lived here long enough to help me think of somewhere to go.”

  “I don’t know,” Sara said. He’d thrown her a curve. “You said something about a cheap motel. There’s still a few along the old Highway 71 business corridor.”

  “That was before, not now. Flea pits are the first place they’ll look. Is there somewhere in Missouri or Oklahoma?”

  “I don’t know what you want.”

  His laugh reminded her of a cold wind blowing through dry grass, harsh and brittle. “Neither do I, not exactly.”

  Sara racked her brain. “There’s Branson, amusement parks, music theaters, tourist attractions.”

  Santiago rejected her idea. “Too glitzy, too busy.”

  “Springfield and Joplin both have some cheap, old fashioned mom and pop style motels and there’s some all along I-44,” she said, thinking out loud. “Eureka Springs wouldn’t be very good because the streets are narrow and steep. It’d be too easy to get caught. Maybe a fishing camp somewhere in the hills or one of the casino hotels in Oklahoma would work.”

  Without swerving at all, one hand on the wheel, he leaned over and kissed her, swift and hard. “Gracias. That might work. How many casinos are there?”

  “A lot but only a few have hotels.”

  “Have you been to any of them?”

  “A few times but I never stayed overnight. I went to a couple of seminars, took Catie and the other employees out for a holiday girls night, and once with one of my neighbors.”

  “Good. Then you can tell me how to get to one, but we need to make a stop at a discount store along the way.”

  She didn’t ask why, just nodded and provided directions to travel north toward Neosho, then west into Oklahoma. They stopped at the first Wal-Mart Super Center they passed. After a few days on the run, something as ordinary as shopping seemed odd. After Santiago parked near one of the shopping cart racks, he climbed out of the truck, but she hesitated.

  He turned back and frowned. “What’s wrong, Sara?”

  “This feels weird.”

  Santiago laughed. “Every other woman I’ve ever known loves these damn places.”

  “I usually don’t mind.” Sara had no idea what the source of her tension might be, but she opened her door. He provided a hand to help her down. “What are we doing, anyway?”

  “I need a throwaway phone and some other things. You probably could use some stuff too.”

  “Like clean underwear. That’s at the top of my list. I thought we didn’t want any phones, though.”

  “I need to make a call or two. Pay as you go phones are harder to track. Let’s get this over with.”

  The weekday morning crowds were light, but as Sara grabbed a shopping cart, she scanned the other shoppers in an effort to spot anything suspicious. Elderly ladies, some with suspender-wearing husbands in tow, young mothers with infants and toddlers, housewives, and a few professionally dressed people moved through the store, ordinary as a loaf of bread or a gallon of milk. She released the breath she’d been holding and relaxed a little as she steered the cart toward ladies wear. “I’ll meet you up front in a few minutes.”

  He grasped the side of the basket with enough force to bring it to a halt. “We can’t split up,” he said. “Stay with me.”

  Sara tilted her head to gaze up at him. “I thought we weren’t in much danger here.”

  “Probably not but stay close.” As he spoke, Santiago moved beside her. Side by side, they pushed the cart through the store, each adding things. She enjoyed the domestic activity and savored it. Maybe someday, she thought, they’d do this without fear. As the items stacked higher in the cart, she thought about the small amount of money in her purse. “Santiago?”

  He glanced up from reading the pay-as-you-go phone package. “Si?”

  “If I use my credit or debit card, won’t they be able to track us that way?”

  “It’s possible but don’t worry. Don’t use it. I’ve got plenty of cash.”

  Once it sank in, she gulped and nodded. “Okay.”

  As a gang member, as the enforcer or as he’d called it, a “bad hombre”, he would. She hadn’t thought of that reality. His wallet must be fat, because he selected additional items for her, things she wouldn’t have considered otherwise. After he paid and the multiple bags were stowed in the truck, many tucked into a suitcase Santiago bought, they headed west into Oklahoma to the casino hotel.

  It towered over the two-lane highway and surrounding countryside, every bit as out of place as an alien spaceship or dinosaur. The hotel stretched six stories toward the sky and the casino wing spread out toward a vast parking lot, over half filled even on a weekday.

  Santiago parked the truck in a row of other older vehicles. He gathered their luggage as she stepped down and they entered the lobby together. The space featured a free standing central fireplace, but Santiago turned to the front desk. He requested a room with a king size bed and booked one for three nights.

  “Would you like me to charge one of your credit cards, sir?” the clerk asked.

  “No, thanks,” Santiago replied in a lazy Texas style drawl. “I prefer to pay cash. I won down at Tulsa and like to spread my wealth if you know what I mean.”

  Anywhere else, Sara thought, the clerk would’ve questioned it, but not here. “That’s fine, sir. Can I see your driver’s license, please?”

  Sara cringed within. Here’s where it all goes to hell. “Si,” Santiago said and produced a Texas license. She peered over his shoulder to read the name – Juan Gonzales. Juan apparently lived in Fort Worth, but his official photo was Santiago. Seven minutes later, they walked into a deluxe king room and she shook her head. “So you have a fake Texas driver’s license, too?”

  He grinned. “Si, of course I do. It’s for backup and right now, I’m damn glad I have it. Nice room, don’t you think?”

  She glanced around. The huge bed sat beneath a trio of Native American artwork across from a big screen television on the opposite wall. Through the open drapes, Sara admired the panorama spreading out over the countryside. Santiago flopped down in an easy chair as she nodded. “Yes. I just
wish we were here under better circumstances.”

  Santiago snorted. “I dreamed of being somewhere like this with you for years, la muñequita. Despite the reason, I’m glad we’re together.” He leaned back, closed his eyes, and sighed.

  “You look so tired.”

  Without opening his eyes, he nodded. “I am. And my shoulder hurts like hell.”

  Fatigue lines cut deep into his face, adding age beyond his years. The way he sat, slumped in the chair, he reminded her of his late papa. The set of his lips indicated more than a little pain. Sara settled onto the floor at his feet and put a hand on his knees. “Mi corazon, how much?”

  “Me duele muy mal.”

  “Then you need to take something to help.” She stretched for a suitcase with some of their purchases tucked inside. “We bought some ibuprofen and acetaminophen, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah, but give me the tequila. It works better for me.”

  “I know it does. Why don’t you take a long, hot shower, then I’ll change the dressing. Then you can drink tequila and sleep.”

  He caressed the back of her head, then sifted his fingers through her hair. “Okay. No matter how much I drink, wake me up for supper. I want a steak.”

  If he hadn’t been in pain, she would’ve wanted a kiss, then more. “Sure,” she said.

  * * * *

  A spectacular sunset filled the western sky with vivid orange tempered with a rich purple and stark black. A few clouds added some softness. Sara faced it, bare beneath her nightgown and stretched. She’d slept enough that a lingering drowsiness remained. Santiago joined her, his hands warm and heavy on her shoulders. Without turning, she asked, “Are you hurting less?”

  “Si. It’s still sore, but the pain’s less. Sleeping helped.” His lips burned a slow trail of kisses across the back of her neck, light yet sensual.

  Sara shivered as his hands strayed to her breasts. He tweaked her nipples, gentle and yet with purpose.

  “I thought you wanted a steak.”

  “I do,” he murmured. “But I think an appetizer would be good, don’t you?”

  “It’s more like having dessert first.” Sara yielded as she faced him. “Kiss me, Santiago.”

  He obliged, his mouth as sweet and hot as chocolate lava cake against her lips. The heat traveled downward into her nipples, then radiated through her belly. Still going south, his contagious fever hit her pussy with intense delight. He kissed her deeper until her breath caught and came short. This time, Santiago kept his hands still on her body and let his mouth do all the work. He didn’t stroke or caress or touch, just let his lips evoke a mounting passion.

  Her body tingled in response as her need increased. He teased her with kisses until Sara ached to scream. Her body sought completion and release. “You’re killing me,” she whispered with a half laugh.

  Santiago didn’t answer, but he shifted her until they reached the bed. She fell back onto it, into the tangled covers they’d vacated, and spread her legs.

  When she grasped his stiff cock, it hardened within her grasp and he groaned. “Now,” he grunted as he plunged inside her. He moved with deliberately slow strokes designed to tantalize. The tension within expanded and she pushed against him, trying to drive him into orgasm. He held back for another few moments and then unleashed his total force. Her back arched as she came in a flood of stars, fireworks, and blinding physical joy. Santiago cried out and she sobbed with the power of their climax.

  They rested, silent until the red flush on their faces faded and their lungs slowed to a normal rhythm. “Te amo, la muñequita,” he said. “Now I’m hungry for steak.”

  Boneless, sated, and too comfortable to move, she smiled. “Do I have to get dressed to go down to the restaurant?”

  His head shook. “No,” he told her. “There’s room service for a moment like this.”

  * * * *

  The thick steaks were tender and rich. Sara savored the taste of both the meat and the rice served on the side. She failed to finish her steak so Santiago did and afterward, he sighed.

  “I think I have a plan.”

  Each word dropped hard, like a tossed pebble against glass, and reverberated through her. “Is it dangerous?”

  His wicked grin answered before he did. “Si, very but it might work.”

  “Might?” She needed a stronger reassurance from him.

  He shrugged. “That’s the best I’ve got. It all hinges on whether or not my identity is known outside this area. If it is, then all bets are off and we’re screwed.”

  Although she seldom drank anything more than a glass of wine, Sara reached for his tequila and took a swig. The potent alcohol seared her throat and burned on its way down. She shuddered and repeated. Eyes watering, she stared at him. “And how will you know?”

  Despite the fact that her future, no, their future depended on his reply, he met her gaze without blinking. “I’ll ask Enrique. He’ll know and he’ll tell me, one way or another.

  If more tequila wouldn’t send her into fiery oblivion or dizzy drunkenness, she would finish the bottle. “You’d rely on the word of a gang banger?”

  “Si,” he answered without hesitation. “He’s the jefe, chica.”

  The room wavered as she struggled to focus. I never could hold much liquor, damn it to hell. “And he’ll tell you because….”

  Santiago’s eyes turned to stone. “He owes me his life, many times over. And he’s trusted me. If I can talk with him, maybe he still will. It’s risky, yes, and hard to trust someone like this, but I’m out of options.”

  Her head whirled in dizzy circles. “I don’t understand. If the FBI agent outed you as an officer, as Santiago Ruiz, why would Enrique believe you if you tell him you’re not?”

  “I can be very persuasive.” His low pitched growl carried more repressed violence than if he’d shouted. “He’ll listen if I can get to him.”

  “Can you?”

  His lips curled into a wolf’s grin. “Oh, si, I can if anyone can.”

  Sara sighed. “I hope to hell you know what you’re doing, Santiago.”

  “So do I.”

  If he didn’t, she realized they’d be screwed. Worse than that, they’d be dead.

  Deep in her bones, she knew they faced a long night, together.

  Chapter Ten

  Santiago’s plan, sketchy as it was, notched her tension up to intense levels. The situation required more tequila, another round of mind blowing sex, or another diversion. Otherwise, she’d be crawling the walls. Or she’d scream or maybe scratch her eyeballs out. Neither of the options appealed, so she paced the floor while Santiago lounged on the bed.

  “You’re going to wear out the carpet,” he said observantly after half an hour.

  She shot him a mean glare, but it didn’t dim his grin one bit. “No, I think the stress will kill me first. Are you going to call him or not?”

  Arms tucked beneath his head, he shrugged. “I don’t know – maybe around two-thirty or three. He’s a night person, la muñequita. I need to catch him at the right time, when he’s alone or almost alone.”

  Her jittery nerves couldn’t stand it and she told him so.

  “Then let’s go gamble awhile,” he said as if he made a reasonable suggestion. “We’ll play a few slots, have a little fun, and pass the time.”

  Sara paused, hands on hips. “You’re kidding, right?”

  He sounded amused and maybe stifled a snicker. “No,” he said. “I wasn’t. Let’s go down and play.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  Without irritation, he got up and put on a clean black T-shirt. In their time apart, he’d apparently learned the patience of a saint, she thought. “Then what would you like to do? We can watch television or go back to bed.”

  His gaze shifted to the rumpled covers and he grinned. Since he’d come back into her life, desire could be kindled with any spark, but right now Sara was wound too tight for sex. But, her taut muscles eased a little. “Do you really want to go
downstairs? Is it even safe?”

  “Si, Sarita. Casinos have excellent security in place. It should be crowded and we’ll blend. Besides, I don’t mind a little gambling once in a while.”

  “I can tell.” As far as she could tell, he took big risks with life and death. Compared to that, what was a little money spent in pursuit of a jackpot? “All right, let’s go. Maybe you’ll win.”

  “If I do, it’s all yours. You already have my heart and soul.”

  Her emotions twisted into a knot. Santiago could make her angry, but then he could make her want to cry with simple words that expressed so much. “Te amo Santiago,” Sara told him. “I’m sorry I’m bitchy, but I’m worried and scared.”

  Santiago opened his arms wide and wrapped them around her. He held her close. “De nada. So am I.”

  They entered the gaming floor from the hotel lobby. Long rows of tightly placed slot machines ran in more than one direction. Their flashing lights, sound effects, and bells made a cacophony of noise, intensified by conversation. Smoke wafted in the air as smokers sat glued to their machines or wandered in search of a lucky seat. Although it wasn’t as dark as some casinos, the dim lighting made Sara stick close to Santiago.

  Before they settled down at a pair of slots, they wandered from one end of the huge room to the other, past an open bar, gaming tables, and the entrance to several eating establishments. Other rooms for bingo and off track betting lined the rear walls. He handed her several twenties and bowed, then swept his hand across the room.

  “Where would you like to start?”

  “Anywhere.” She raised her voice to be heard over the din.

  He grasped her hand and pulled her to a pair of slots. “Then sit down and play.”

  Although Sara didn’t expect to be able to concentrate, she stuck a bill into the machine and set the rows of bright icons spinning. She made her bet minimal but within a few spins, she won a little. After a few minutes, she got intrigued and put a little effort into the game.

  Beside her, Santiago played slots, a cigarillo in one hand, with languid interest. The diversion worked and for a short space, she forgot to worry about time or place or danger. She won enough to come out a few bucks ahead and when the luck petered out, she sought another slot machine nearby.