Maybe she wasn’t as experienced in lovemaking as he, but to her, that kiss hadn’t felt at all one-sided. She was sure that he’d been as caught up as she in the pleasure of it. She’d felt his rising passion in the hunger of his mouth, in the tightening of his hold on her.
“Why do you keep on pretending that our kisses don’t mean anything, David? That there’s nothing special going on between us?” She couldn’t believe she’d actually spoken those words out loud, but she’d started this, so she might as well finish it. “You sure don’t act as if I were only a...a client of some kind.”
“Oh, for—” He raked back his hair. “Look. You’re into the talking everything out thing. That’s not me, okay?”
From the irritated way he threw back his answer without looking at her, she figured she’d touched a nerve. Exactly which nerve, she intended to find out. This confrontation frightened her a little. Exactly why she pushed it. She’d let fear—not her usual response to a problem — overcome direct action with Tommy. Never again.
“It was you on the plane when you opened up to me about your wife. You said you seldom do that with anyone. You don’t seem to have a lot of trouble talking to me.”
She stretched out her hand. He was too far away to reach.
“Talk to me now, David. Rowing this boat doesn’t take nearly the amount of attention you’re giving it.”
“All right,” he said, still peering as intently over his shoulder as if he were piloting the Queen Mary into berth. “Sure I care about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. And you’ve set yourself up for that with this pointless search of yours.”
Her brows hooked upward in open skepticism. “I see. Your feelings for me are completely altruistic.”
“No. They’re a lot more than that.” He turned and balanced the oars on the sides of the boat. “Just remember that you asked for this.”
He tilted his head to one side and looked at her through slitted eyes. She wondered if provoking him this way had been such a good idea after all.
“Yeah. I like kissing you,” he said flatly. “In fact I’d like to do a whole lot more than that to you. After the tease you gave me the other night, I want to take you to bed so bad I can taste it. Shall we stop in right now at that small hotel we saw in town? What do you say?”
The shock of his blunt proposition, David noted with grim satisfaction, produced its desired effect. Cara’s face flushed pink. Her open blue gaze jerked away.
Maybe it was the coward’s way out, but since he wasn’t able to keep his hands off her, he hoped he’d fixed it so she’d keep a safe emotional distance from him.
It didn’t help that she’d told him she wasn’t in love with Tommy, and that the ring had disappeared from her finger. If anything, the fact that she didn’t belong to another man only made things more difficult for him.
She had him against the ropes. He was afraid he’d soon go down to defeat in his battle with himself not to make love to the woman who played such havoc with his mind and body.
The problem was she felt good in his arms. So damn good it scared him. But his arms were the last place in the world she belonged. He was no good for her. You’d think she’d be able to see that for herself every time she watched him hobble along next to her.
She broke the simmering silence between them.
“What do I say?” she repeated levelly. Her mouth tight, she lifted her chin. “I say it’s time for you to take me back to our hotel in the city, where I’ll go to my room alone.”
The flurry of traffic on the river and the dirt road running along its banks had slackened off considerably. He’d been so focused on Cara, he hadn’t noticed. Theirs was just about the only boat still moving. The others floated empty by the shore.
A loud blast of tinny music erupted from the town center. The religious ritual was scheduled for noon. David glanced at his watch. It was just about that now.
He started to row back toward the area where he’d parked their rental car. Cara sat in hurtful silence that made him feel like a heel. That he’d said what he did to her only for her own good didn’t help him feel any better.
While still four or five hundred yards from the rental dock, he spotted the man on the road.
Behind the heavyset man in the short-sleeved white shirt and dark pants, stragglers on their way to the procession hurried along the road. The man who’d caught his eye, though, was going nowhere. Standing by the side of the road, he stared in their direction. Hard to tell for sure from this distance, but he seemed to be intently observing their approach.
Big Bald. Scary-looking Hispanic. The investigator’s description of his attacker lit up in David’s mind. A perfect description of the watcher on the road.
He let up on his hard pull on the oars and scanned the area ahead. A second man stood eyeing them from the small pier where they’d rented their boat.
And where they had to return it.
He felt a creeping of the skin at the back of his neck. Over the years he’d learned to trust the sixth sense that lodged there. Right now, that internal warning system was prickling like all get-out.
Cara. He didn’t know what the men had in mind for either of them, but these didn’t look like the types of guys who’d think twice about attacking a woman. His mind raced through the precious few scenarios that might get her away from the hazardous confrontation evidently looming ahead.
She was in good physical shape. Given a head start, she stood some chance of outrunning the men. With any luck she’d make it as far as the nearest crowd that might provide her some measure of protection. How much, he couldn’t predict. Anti-Americanism was prevalent in the country. The crowd might not have much of a problem with watching native Colombians beat up a couple of gringo tourists.
Reaching the crowd, though, was the only chance she had. To give her that chance, he’d have to hold off the two goons as long as he could. He prayed to God there were no others lurking somewhere out of sight.
“Cara,” he said briskly, holding the boat in place with the oars. “Two men I don’t like the looks of are waiting for us over by the dock. I’m going to pull up to this side of that clump of trees on the riverbank up ahead. That should give us a bit of cover. When I do, I want you to waste no time in getting out of the boat and making for the crowd.”
He dug into his pocket for the ignition key to their rental car and tossed it to her.
“Try to make it to the car. If you manage to do that, take off. Don’t wait for me. I’ll be okay. Just get out of here. That’s an order,” he snapped. “Follow it.”
Cara didn’t waste time asking for lengthy explanations. The incident with Manuel had given her warning enough that they could run into a dangerous situation. From the alert tenseness in David’s body and voice, she gathered they now faced exactly that.
She grabbed her purse, shoved the car key into it and looped the shoulder strap diagonally across her body.
They’d almost reached the spot David mentioned. He stabbed an oar into the shallow river bottom and swerved the boat toward land. The little craft butted into the bank.
“Move!” he commanded.
She moved. Flowers scattered into the river as she leapt from the boat.
David followed. His cane caught in the thick underbrush. He stumbled.
She stopped, ready to run back and help him. He imperiously waved her on.
“No. Keep going.”
He pulled his cane out and struggled after her as best he could through knee-high vegetation. The lei around her neck bobbed distractingly. She tugged hard at the flowers. The cord holding them broke. With a spasm of regret, she tossed David’s lovely gift away.
They made it only to a clutch of small buildings on the edge of town before the two men began to close in on either side of them.
“Let’s both try for the crowd, David. Your leg. You can’t fight those two.”
“The hell with my leg. They’re not going to give me the option. Get going.”
&nbs
p; He set his back protectively against the wall and flipped his cane around to use the heavy brass handgrip as a pointed weapon.
“Damn it, Cara,” he shouted. “Run. I’ll hold them off.”
Run and leave him to battle two assailants alone? No way. She might still be able to race away fast enough to escape the heavyweight pair. David couldn’t possibly elude them.
She opened her mouth and forced out an ear-shattering scream for help. If anyone heard over the racket from the procession, they didn’t shout back in return.
The larger of their two attackers positioned himself to take on David. With an evil grin, the Colombian slashed at him with a long, vicious-looking machete.
A quick whip of David’s cane whacked the blade away.
She had no more time or energy to keep on screaming.
The second man advanced on her. She fell into the defense position she’d been taught: alertly balanced on both feet, hands and arms angled up in front of her ready to tighten and strike. Her assailant, who outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds, laughed derisively at her stance.
He lunged at her.
Her well-aimed karate kick to the side of his knee stumbled him to the ground. He wasn’t laughing anymore. He looked up at her, openmouthed that she’d managed to put him down. Without compunction she launched another kick, this time to his ribs.
She connected.
The force of the hit traveled all the way up her leg. Unfortunately it seemed to have little lasting effect on her adversary’s heavy body. He moved quickly enough to grab hold of her ankle and yank. Sharp pain speared up her leg. She landed on her stomach in the dirt. The hard thump drove the breath from her lungs.
Furiously concentrating on recalling moves she’d performed only in class under no real stress, she couldn’t spare a glance to see how David was faring. The best thing she could do for him was to take care of herself as best she could.
She flailed at her assailant’s head with her free leg and twisted onto her back. He let go of her ankle and got to one knee, his arms outstretched, ready to hurl himself upon her. If he succeeded, he’d bury her under his bulk. One blow of his massive fist to her head and the uneven contest would be over.
He gathered his heavy legs under him, ready to spring.
She drew up both knees to her chest. With all her strength she kicked his face.
He reared back, blood spurting from his nose.
His grunt of pain and the sickening feel of her feet thudding into his face brought her a rush of nausea. She’d devoted her life to the easing of pain, and had practiced self-defense moves only on well-padded pretend opponents. Deliberately hurting anyone, even a real attacker out to do her serious harm, wasn’t easy.
Her ankle throbbed. She pushed the ache from her mind. Thinking only of David, she scrambled to her feet.
His opponent was moving in on him again. The man had recovered the knife. David’s legs were useless as defense, but his upper body strength made a formidable weapon of the cane he gripped with both hands and flailed around him like a sword.
He was holding his own right now, but he couldn’t do that forever. Neither could she. Her attacker was already struggling to his feet. A man that size could take a lot of punishment. More, she was afraid, than she’d be able to dish out. Already she was gasping for breath. And her antagonist had learned that overcoming her would require a more brutal attack. One she was sure he was ready to employ.
“I told you to get the hell out of here,” David yelled. His cane cracked against his attacker’s bare, knife-wielding arm. This time the Colombian managed to hold on to the blade.
“Forget it,” she hollered back.
She jerked her heavy bag over her shoulder. Holding it by its long strap she whirled it out to thump into her man’s head. The action gave her another couple of seconds to ready herself for another onslaught.
David’s ugly opponent tried again to grab for the cane inflicting so much damage on him. David kept him so busy trying to protect his head from its blows that he wasn’t able to catch hold of the weapon. Sooner or later, though, he’d manage to do that and things would get a lot tougher for David. And for herself.
The sharp clatter of drums and the wail of flutes grew louder. She stole a quick look down the narrow alley between the buildings. A group of hymn-singing young girls dressed in white streamed past the lane’s exit at the next block.
“David. Down here. We can — ”
A massive arm locked around her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t twist her head away. A shower of bright red sparks danced in front of her eyes.
David’s cane landed with a hard thud across her assailant’s back and broke his hold. Two quick blows to the back of his legs flopped the man back on the ground next to his partner, who was doubled over holding his bloodied head.
“Down the alley,” David ordered, hooking his free arm around her shoulder. Between the support of her body and the cane, he was able to manage a fairly rapid, if ungainly, lope down the lane.
She glanced back. The two men were already picking themselves up off the ground. It hurt to put her weight on her injured ankle, but worse hurt was gaining on them from behind.
Gasping with exertion, she and David broke into the religious procession. Just ahead, a group of men loudly chanting prayers held the ends of thick silken ropes attached to a huge banner brightly painted with a sacred image. The gold-fringed flag effectively hid them from anyone in back of it. But the men bearing the religious symbol were marching at such a slow pace, Cara was afraid their stalkers could soon catch up to them.
A man dressed in white, an official badge pinned to his shirt, gestured them to the sidelines. It was clear they couldn’t push rapidly through the milling crowd to reach the car that offered escape.
“Those two goons face the same problems we do in getting through this crowd,” David said. “Our only chance is to keep from being seen long enough to make it to where the car is parked.” Ignoring the orders of another parade marshall, David steered them as quickly as possible along the edge of each group of chanting marchers into the cover of several banners.
Trying to locate their tormentors, David pulled his arm from her shoulder and turned to peer around a banner.
“They’re back there, all right.”
Up until now, she hadn’t had time to take stock of the fight’s effects on the two of them. No wonder they’d garnered official frowns. Everyone else was cleanly dressed in Sunday best. Only the two Americans looked dirty and bedraggled. David’s shirt was tom, as was her dress.
Her horrified gaze riveted on the stream of blood flowing from the back of his arm.
“David! You’re bleeding. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”
“No point in it. Nothing we can do about it now anyway. Keep moving.”
The relative cover the parade gave them was running out. Not far ahead, a high, gold-and-white canopy rippled over an altar erected on a flower-bedecked stage. Their car was parked on a side street down to the left. She craned her neck, but couldn’t make out their vehicle among the others.
David pulled her up short and led her off to the side to mingle with the spectators.
“More trouble. Looks as if our friends have left a lookout behind. There’s another big guy standing a few feet away from the car. I don’t think he came to town simply to join in the hymn singing.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We’ve got to get to the car. I don’t know when the next bus leaves for the city and we’re not in any position to wait around. Frankly, Cara, I wouldn’t bet on the crowd being much help in a dispute that pits us against their fellow Colombians. They may not want to get involved.”
“The fellow at the car, d’you think we can take him?”
David looked startled at the matter-of-fact way she asked the question. He broke into a grin.
“Hey. There are two of us, only one of him.” The grin didn’t last long. “The others didn’t have
guns. Let’s hope this guy doesn’t, either.”
The procession flowed by as David stood and pondered a battle plan. His gaze lit on a young boy lugging a plastic bucket of water up a path leading from the river. David limped over to the boy and spoke to him rapidly in Spanish. Pesos and bucket changed hands.
David handed her the filled bucket.
“Try to keep from being seen until you let the guy have the water in the face as hard as you can. That should surprise him enough to give me time to get behind him and clobber him.” He hefted his cane admiringly. “This thing is coming in a lot handier than I ever expected.”
It might work, Cara considered, if they actually had time to do it. Her quick glance back over the crowd showed her one of their attackers elbowing his way through a band of men following a white surpliced acolyte bearing a golden crucifix atop a tall pole.
She maneuvered herself into a small group of passing women chanting their rosaries. When her part of the procession turned and flowed toward the altar, she broke from the group and sped to the cover of a small truck.
She peeked over the hood and went cold. The man standing guard at their car was looking in her direction. The only good thing about his perusal of the area of her hiding place was that he didn’t see David working his way to the other side of the street.
She had no other choice. She stepped away from the truck.
God must have been listening to her prayers. At the same moment she readied her watery weapon, her target jerked his gaze off to the side, apparently caught by something or someone in the crowd. She glanced behind her. The shouts and wild gesticulations of their pursuers, instead of calling their partner’s attention to her, only served to distract him.
Mentally thanking them for the favor, she dashed across the street and hurled the water full in the backup’s face.
Stunned, the man coughed and sputtered and wiped his arm across his eyes.
David wasn’t at all gentle when he conked the lookout over the head with the cane.
“Give me the car key,” he ordered, limping quickly to their rental car.
Unbroken Vows Page 13
