To the Limit (Shadow Heroes Book 3)

by Virginia Kelly

  She would taste of oranges and passion. Of everything he’d ever wanted. Everything he’d ever dreamed of. Bravery, honor and loyalty.

  She swallowed. “I’ll clean all of this up.” Her voice rasped over his senses. Then she pulled away, both physically and emotionally. She’d done the right thing.

  Because if he had kissed her, he wouldn’t have stopped.

  ***

  Mary Beth, nerves stretched beyond endurance, sat in the Jeep as Nick drove through the pouring rain with what appeared to be concentrated desperation. He’d been unfailingly polite. She’d been unfailingly silent. She could think of nothing to say.

  Sometimes she thought she understood him, yet there was this barrier, a barrier he’d established. Not just a physical one, but one that kept everything about him at a distance. One that would forever make her wary of him, wondering what other secrets he kept.

  The rain came down in sheets, slowing them to a near crawl. The wipers proved ineffective against the deluge, but Nick kept driving, his attention fixed on a narrow winding path through a field of grass that reached the Jeep’s windows.

  Mary Beth glanced down at her watch. Nearly six-thirty. “How much farther?”

  “We won’t make the valley today, but we’ll have a place to stay the night.”

  The rain tapered, then quit, clouds racing east. Ahead, lights twinkled against the dusk darkened sky.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “The town of San Vicente. We’ll stay there overnight.” Minutes later, he pulled the Jeep into the sheltering cover of a metal-roofed, dilapidated barn. Cattle and goats watched them warily as they got out and began walking. Night fell before they reached the town square. It was illuminated by towering light posts that reminded Mary Beth of a ballpark. Rolling mist replaced the rain, but from the looks of the carefully tended square, San Vicente had had its share. Puddles covered the grass in the center of the square, and mud lay thick on the unpaved road.

  “They have power way out here?” They were hours away from civilization.

  “These small towns go into cooperative efforts, like the Incas used to do to accomplish big projects. The towns hire an engineer to come in and plan it all, lay the power posts, then connect to the next small town.”

  “I can’t believe this is here. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  “You’d be surprised at how close we are to Trujillo.”

  “Where we stopped for food?”

  Nick nodded.

  “That was hours ago.”

  “A straight line from Trujillo to San Vicente would take less than half an hour.”

  “But I thought Trujillo was on the edge of the mountain.”

  “It is. San Vicente is on the next eastward mountain.” Nick shifted the bag he carried to his right shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  Cool and humid, the night air was refreshing after the long trip. Mary Beth followed Nick toward a whitewashed two-story frame house at one corner of the square. He knocked on the heavy wooden door and waited, the street-lights casting them in tall shadows. She hoped it was only the light that made him look so tired.

  Finally, they heard footsteps and the door opened. A short, heavy woman stood framed in the doorway. She blinked at them, then laughed with pleasure.

  “Nicholas!” She opened her arms and he stepped forward. “Qué bien,” she said, hugging him. “Ven, ven.” She waved them inside. “Pasa.”

  “Doña Inez,” Nick said, “this is Mary Beth. Mary Beth, Doña Inez Flores, a good friend of the family.”

  Inez stretched out her hand toward Mary Beth. “It is a pleasure, no?” She cast a quick curious glance at Nick as she said the words.

  “My pleasure, Doña Inez,” Mary Beth replied.

  “Ah, Nicholas,” she said, looking Mary Beth up and down. “Your mother, she is well?”

  “She is. Very well.” He shifted, as if uncomfortable. “Could we stay here overnight?”

  “Claro que si. Of course.” She nodded, then looked back at Mary Beth. “I have two rooms and food.”

  “Gracias,” Nick replied.

  Doña Inez led them through a spotless living room decorated with dark Spanish furniture and into an immaculate but small kitchen.

  “Siéntate, Nicholas,” she said, tying an apron around her ample middle. “Please, you sit too, Mary Beth.”

  Nick eased himself into a wooden chair beside a small table as their hostess kept up a constant chatter that told Mary Beth she was a close friend of Doña Elena’s. Finally, she set plates before them and wiped her hands on her apron.

  Mary Beth hadn’t known how hungry she was. She and Nick ate French rolls filled with black olives along with queso fresco, a soft white cheese, and drank the sweet national cola.

  Finally, Nick gave Doña Inez an edited version of the purpose of their trip. Without lying, he let her believe they were simply touring, giving Mary Beth a chance to experience the wild untamed areas of San Mateo, showing her those places he’d loved when he was a boy. Somehow he managed to tell her that if anyone looked for him she was to say he was not here. He was sneaking away from work, he explained, and wanted to have the time off without interruption. It amazed Mary Beth that anyone who knew Nick would think he would shirk any duty.

  And she wondered if Nick knew his old family friend had her own version of the trip, a more romantic one. The gray-haired woman kept giving her speculative looks.

  Then she led them up a wooden staircase decorated with a carved railing to the second floor. “Nicholas, this is your room,” she said, opening the first door. Nick stepped in, and Doña Inez continued down the tiny hall. “Mary Beth, this is your room.” She opened a second door and walked inside. She flicked on a lamp on an ornate wooden nightstand and pointed toward another door that opened to Nick’s room. “You will share a bathroom, ¿bien?”

  “Of course. Gracias.”

  In the soft glow of a lamp, Mary Beth caught a worried look on the woman’s face. She seemed to struggle with something she wanted to say.

  “Is something wrong?”

  The woman stared at her for a few seconds, then took a deep breath. “It is not my concern, no? But Nicholas, he is a good boy. He has a good heart. You will be kind to him, no?”

  ***

  Mary Beth drifted awake. The steady rain she’d heard all night had stopped. Outside, weak sunlight washed the morning in a golden glow. The house stood still and quiet.

  Stretching, she rolled over and plumped the pillow. She felt new. After a hot bath, which included a shampoo that washed out more of the fading black hair dye, she’d stretched out on the clean comfortable bed wearing a borrowed floral knit gown.

  This morning, lying in bed, she pondered Inez Flores’ last words to her. Why would anyone ask her to be kind to Nick? Mary Beth had no power over him. He held the power to devastate her if she let the feelings she had for him blind her to who and what he was. She’d seen him work his charm on Doña Inez. He didn’t lie, but he avoided the truth.

  Then it hit her. Did Doña Inez believe her to be like Cristina Morales? A lover who might come back to haunt Nick with claims of a pregnancy? How little people knew him. How did he and Cristina put up with their families’ and friends’ erroneous beliefs about them?

  There was only one answer. Their love for Daniel Vargas and his son took precedence over all else.

  Mary Beth would do well to remember that.

  With deliberate effort, she pushed aside the troublesome thoughts. Stretching again, she got out of bed. Donning her jeans and a navy-blue T-shirt—her last clean one—she carefully opened the door to the shared bathroom. It was dark. Nick had closed the door to his bedroom. Did he think she would come in search of him? That she wanted him so badly she would embarrass herself again?

  Won’t happen, she told herself, flipping on the light.

  The mirror revealed that she looked … well, bad. Really bad. The black dye streaked her hair. Maybe another half-dozen or so washings would
get her back to normal. Right now she looked like a stylist’s nightmare. Grimacing at her reflection, she turned on the cold water, grateful that at least water was plentiful here, that the sink didn’t gurgle like the one in the bungalow at the sawmill. Moments later, eyes closed, face dripping, she reached to her left, where she’d seen a towel rack with a fresh towel.

  “Looking for this?”

  Her eyes flew open. Nick, hair ruffled, stood next to her, holding the towel. She hadn’t heard him come in.

  “You scared me to death!”

  His only response was a half grin.

  Jerking the towel from him, she scrubbed her face dry.

  “Leave some skin, niña,” he said as she finished.

  “Bathroom’s yours,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

  “You wet your hair,” he said, stepping closer. He wore only khaki cargo pants, his chest was bare, as were his feet.

  “It’ll dry,” she replied, but before she could turn around, he reached out and pushed the wet strand of hair behind her ear. Why she stood still and let him, she would never know. Worse yet, she closed her eyes. She was a idiot.

  A distant, mechanical bang resonated around them. Her eyes flew open. The windowless bathroom was dark.

  “Turn on the lights,” she said.

  “Power’s out. Something just blew.” Did his voice sound scratchy?

  Reaching toward her right, she sought the wall of the small bathroom, but instead, backed into the sink. Realizing her mistake, she turned and stepped in the direction of her room. Only to run into Nick.

  “Watch out,” he said, grasping her arms.

  She could hear him breathing, the rhythm altered and quick. Then, with velvety blackness all around them, he ran his hands up her arms to her shoulders.

  She knew what would happen next, knew but did nothing to move away. She was a total idiot.

  He was a solid presence—a warm, hard, solid presence in an otherwise unearthly void. She didn’t protest when she felt his hand on her cheek. Didn’t question when the touch of his fingers on her lips blotted out all doubts. The heat of him, her desire for him, was something she couldn’t deny. The fact that he had come to her obliterated all other thoughts. When his mouth touched hers, tentatively at first, she was lost.

  Then he was holding her to him, holding her when it wasn’t necessary because she wasn’t going anywhere. In the dark, the kiss was her only reality.

  “Nicholas!” Doña Inez called, pounding on Nick’s bedroom door.

  Opening her eyes and pushing away from him, Mary Beth realized the lights had come back on. Nick stared down at her, seemingly as confused by what had happened between them as she was.

  “¿Sí?” he replied.

  “Desayuno,” Doña Inez said. “Breakfast.”

  ***

  Mary Beth took the cup of coffee Doña Inez handed her and sat down at the kitchen table. She’d practically run down the stairs.

  “I hope you slept well, Mary Beth. The power, it is erratic in the rainy season. I am sorry if it frightened you.”

  “I slept very well, and no, the outage did not worry me.” She hadn’t had time to worry, only react.

  “Did Nick sleep well?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Mary Beth replied, sure she was blushing. But she was saved from further embarrassment because her hostess had her back turned, putting something up in a cabinet. Did the woman think she and Nick had spent a passionate night together? If she only knew.

  He still hadn’t come downstairs. She’d heard the shower running when she’d left the room.

  Doña Inez turned and said, “Nick, he is—”

  He picked that moment to noisily bound down the stairs. Had he been listening? She was sure everything could be heard in this small house.

  “Buenos días,” he said, and bent to kiss Doña Inez’ cheek. He gave Mary Beth a quick good morning nod.

  Moving easily, he poured himself a cup of coffee as the older woman placed hot rolls and sliced ham and cheese on the table. “How is Arturo?” he asked.

  “Good. Very good.” Doña Inez turned toward Mary Beth. “He likes your United States,” she added.

  “Arturo is Doña Inez’s son,” Nick explained. “He’s a pilot, training with one of the airlines.”

  “I see,” Mary Beth replied.

  “When he returns, he will live in the city.” Doña Inez opened the curtains before joining them at the table. “San Vicente is a town of old people. All the young ones leave.”

  Outside, the fog began drifting upward from the square. A middle-aged couple picked their way carefully around the mud and puddles. An old man sat on the single bench in the middle of the square, a dog at his feet.

  “When Nicholas and Daniel came here as boys, we had no electricity. They would play hard all day, then fall asleep as soon as the sun went down.

  “Your mother, Nicholas, she loved it here. Years before, when Doctor Jean lived here, she helped him in the clinic.”

  Mary Beth remembered what Jean Rousseau had said about Nick’s mother. Maybe there had been something between them, something brought to an end by her family and the general.

  Doña Inez continued. “Elena said that was what life was meant to be.” She sighed and sat down heavily. “But that was before she lost Daniel, and I my Pablo….”

  Nick reached across the table and took Doña Inez’s hand.

  “I am fine, hijo. I like to remember Pablo alive.” She used the corner of her apron to wipe away a tear, then looked at Mary Beth. “Pablo is my oldest son. He was killed in a raid on Primero de Mayo.”

  Mary Beth saw the grim line of Nick’s mouth. Was this was another death he blamed on General Vargas?

  “Pablo, Arturo, Daniel, Nicholas and one of the other boys in town. Ah, that was a wonderful time.” Doña Inez looked beyond her small kitchen into the town square. The church bell began tolling. “Nicholas, do you know that Manuel is here? He is the priest. You must go see him before you leave.”

  “How did he get an assignment to his hometown?”

  “He tells the bishop he knows the people, so he comes. He is a good priest.”

  Relieved that the conversation had moved past Nick and Doña Inez’s losses, Mary Beth gazed out the window, enjoying the last few sips of her coffee. Nick and Doña Inez continued their conversation, but Mary Beth tuned out, fascinated by the way the mists rose and tumbled outside the window….

  “No, Nicholas,” Inez was saying firmly.

  What had Mary Beth missed?

  “It is insanity. You were wild boys. Your mother and I, we should not have allowed you do these crazy things—”

  “It will be fine.”

  “Estás loco, hijo.”

  Nick started to reply.

  “What will your mother say?” Doña Inez asked, cutting him off.

  “I’m not a boy anymore. My mother knows this.”

  “With her head, perhaps. Not with her heart.”

  “This is something I must do.”

  “For whom?” she challenged. “For you?” She gave him a look of disapproval. “You do nothing for yourself.” She shook her head.

  Turning toward Mary Beth, she demanded, “If he does this for you, can you stop him?”

  Confused, Mary Beth looked from Doña Inez to Nick.

  “Why do you want to go on this foolhardy … aventura?”

  Mute, Mary Beth stared.

  “Bah, you are both fools. You will break your necks.” She turned toward Nick again. “And I will have to tell your mother she has lost another son.” Doña Inez pushed back her chair. “Eat your breakfast,” she said, shaking her head. “We should have stopped you then. Now that you are a man, you do not listen.”

  With an angry challenge in her eyes, she turned to Mary Beth. “You are a woman. You will see reason. Ask him what he plans. You will see. It is foolish.”

  “Doña Inez—” Nick began.

  “I must go to my sister today. She is sic
k. I will not be back for a week or more. You know where I keep the key.” She pinned her gaze on him. “You will go see Manuel. He must hear your confession before you do this estupidez.” Then she stalked out of the kitchen. The door slammed behind her.

  Mary Beth spoke into the ringing silence. “What was all that about?”

  “She doesn’t want me to go into the valley.”

  “Obviously. Is she worried about the dangers in the Río Hermoso Valley?”

  Nick pushed back his chair. “It’s a little different.”

  Suspicious now, Mary Beth stood. “In what way?”

  “She knows how I intend to get there.”

  Mary Beth carefully examined his choice of words. “What do you mean you? What about me?”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea that you go with me.”

  Mary Beth crossed her arms. “We’ve been through this before. You told me you wouldn’t leave me.”

  Outside, the bell had stopped tolling. People were coming out of the church. A young priest, still dressed in his robes, stood outside, bidding goodbye to the parishioners.

  “Why does she think you should go to confession?”

  His lips turned up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  Mary Beth didn’t like it. “What’s going on?”

  “Come on,” he said and led her out into the square. They walked around the church and, with a quick wave at the priest who waved back, Nick continued until the only thing they could see was the thick fog drifting up, at times revealing a magnificent panoramic view of the emerald-green ceja de montaña at the edge of town.

  Then he took her hand and led her toward a crude wooden railing two feet high, in front of wild vegetation. Beyond lay an abyss misted in tropical wetness. Small breaks in the fog revealed a sheer drop of hundreds of feet. He brought her to the railing and pointed down.

  “This is the other way into the Río Hermoso Valley.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You must be kidding.” Mary Beth said. During the moments when the mists parted, she could see the overgrown precipice, the boulders, the trees, the vines. The mud slides. “We can’t go down here. We’ll break our necks!”