Sooner or Later

by Debbie Macomber

  “That uptight prude look of yours.”

  “I’m not a prude!”

  Murphy laughed.

  Letty folded her arms and glared at him. “Isn’t there anything you like about me?”

  “Sure,” he returned lazily. “You’ve got one of the finest pairs of tits I’ve ever seen.”

  Letty closed her eyes. “You are by far the most vulgar, crude man I’ve ever known.”

  “Sweetheart, that’s a compliment.”

  “Then kindly keep your compliments to yourself. You disgust me.”

  Murphy grinned broadly, apparently well pleased with himself. “Yup,” he announced, “this is the way I like it best. You madder than a firecracker and me enjoying it. It doesn’t get any better than this.”

  “Well, far be it from me to raise your level of consciousness out of the gutter. Not when you seem to enjoy it there so much.”

  Murphy chuckled. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss the gutter, sweetheart. You meet lots of interesting people.”

  “I can just imagine.”

  “You know, it’s downright pleasurable baiting you.” He chuckled softly. “I don’t know what I’m going to do for fun once we’re finished with this mission.”

  “I imagine you’ll find some other form of sordid entertainment.”

  “I’m sure I will,” he said, continuing to be amused with himself, “but I have the feeling it won’t be nearly as enjoyable as my time with you.”

  The long stretch of silence between them had seemed intolerable, but this conversation was worse. “How long before we reach San Paulo?” she asked, more as an effort to funnel the topic away from herself and to the matters at hand.

  “An hour, possibly two.”

  She sighed expressively. “Are you going to abandon me again?”

  “Abandon you?”

  “Yes,” she said sternly. “Twice now you’ve insisted that I stay outside the city while you go on alone to investigate. I’d like to remind you that both times have turned into unmitigated disasters.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Yes,” she returned emphatically. “You left me for ten hours outside of Siguierres. When I felt I had no choice but to check up on you, I discovered you making love with a whore in some sleazy cantina.”

  “Just to set the record straight, I was gathering information.”

  Letty rolled her eyes. “I can only wonder what you learned. When I found you, it was more than apparent that you were talking to her bosom.”

  Murphy snickered loudly. “Don’t worry, your breasts win hands down over hers. She didn’t have near enough to satisfy me.”

  “Would you kindly shut up?” He chuckled, and she knew he was baiting her, but she couldn’t help herself. “You know what your problem is?” she flared, unable to keep silent.

  “No, but I bet you’re about to tell me.”

  “First off, you don’t know how to talk to a woman—”

  “I beg to differ. I can sweet-talk the best of them.”

  “Hookers, you mean. But when it comes to dealing with a real woman, a lady of refinement and culture, you’re at a complete loss.”

  He didn’t disagree with her, she noted.

  “And so you do what you’ve always done,” she continued, “what has become, I would say, your expertise. You insult and berate what you don’t understand.”

  He arched his eyebrows as if impressed with her insight. “From listening to you,” Letty went on primly, “I strongly suspect that you don’t have a clue of what it really means to make love.”

  “Now just a minute—”

  “You think of sex as a bodily function, sort of like shaving or brushing your teeth. Something mildly enjoyable when the mood strikes you. I sincerely doubt that you’ve ever really been in love. You’re absolutely ignorant of what it means to make love to a woman on an emotional level. The only plane that exists for you is the physical. You might well be the greatest lover in the world, or assume you are, but in reality, I pity you.”

  The amusement faded from his eyes and he clamped his mouth closed. Letty had said far more than she’d intended. Well, it would do him good to sample his own brand of medicine.

  The rest of the morning they traveled the river, communicating only when it was necessary.

  When they passed a fishing boat, Letty knew they must be nearing San Paulo. Her heart slammed against her chest with excitement. Soon they’d find Luke. And once Luke was safe, she’d be rid of this obnoxious, ill-tempered, unreasonable mercenary.

  Unless, of course, he insisted on claiming his fee.

  Murphy’s mood had turned foul after his discussion with Letty. She’d proved to be an easy mark. He enjoyed provoking her, indulging himself. This time, however, she gave as good as she got. What surprised him was how accurate she’d been.

  What she’d said hit home. He didn’t know how to talk to a woman. His dealings with the opposite sex were generally linked to women of the night. He’d avoided relationships. The most meaningful time he’d spent with the opposite sex generally didn’t last longer than a pleasure-filled hour or two.

  As for what she’d said about making love…there, too, he suspected she was right on. He’d been having sex for years, but he’d never really made love. Not that it plagued him, but he was left to wonder at the difference.

  It was just past noon when Murphy found a safe spot to dock the boat. He considered leaving Letty while he ventured into the city, but he dared not. The woman had a penchant for finding trouble, and the city would be a prime spot. He wanted her near so he could protect her if necessary.

  They carried everything with them. Murphy found an honest-looking laborer who, for a fee, promised to return the boat to Aldo. The man agreed, claiming he had relatives in Questo, and personally guaranteed its safe return.

  Following that, Murphy led the way into the city, taking the back streets, keeping Letty close to his side. It wasn’t long before he realized they’d walked into some sort of religious holiday. The streets were decorated, and an air of festivity floated about them. The natives were dressed in their best attire. Musicians played their instruments on every major street corner.

  “What’s going on?” Letty asked.

  “Hell if I know. It looks like a celebration.” All the better, Murphy felt. This was the first piece of good luck they’d had.

  “We’re going to buy ourselves some clothes and join in,” he said, steering her toward an open-air shop.

  The entire inventory hung from the shop’s ceiling. Blouses, shirts, dresses in a variety of sizes and colors, swayed in the gentle breeze.

  Murphy wandered around, checking out the merchandise, hoping he’d find something to fit his bulky build. If he didn’t change out of the fatigues, he’d stand out like a pumpkin in a rice field.

  No need announcing to the rebel troops that he’d arrived. With a fresh set of clothes, he’d be able to manipulate his way around town and blend in with the crowds.

  He left Letty while he tried on a shirt and a pair of pants. There wasn’t a mirror inside the dressing room, but the transformation must have impressed her because she took one look at him and burst into giggles.

  When Murphy saw his reflection, he understood why. The white cotton pants and shirt with multicolored embroidery on the wide pockets made him look something like a karate expert. The shop owner added a colorful cloth belt, insisting it was a necessary addition because of the feast day. The wide sombrero completed the transformation.

  Luckily Letty already wore the traditional Zarcero dress. On impulse, Murphy bought her a lace shawl and a new pair of shoes. He paid for their purchases with cash.

  “Where to now?” she asked once they were back on the street.

  He grinned. “To the celebration, where else?”

  “But—”

  “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

  The center of town was a madhouse. The city square was jammed with citizens who were badly in need of an excuse
to celebrate.

  Soon after they’d made their way into the town square, a religious procession moved past. An altar boy carrying a large gold cross led the way, followed by the priest, dressed in full orthodox regalia. Behind him was another boy carting a three-foot statue of the Blessed Virgin. Following up the rear, in perfectly matched rows, were twenty other young altar boys.

  As the priest walked past, those gathered in the city square blessed themselves. The priest waved a pot of incense. Behind the religious procession came a platoon of marching soldiers. The gaiety fizzled, and a somber mood took root as the uniformed men filed past.

  Letty edged closer to Murphy, and he could feel her fear. He placed his arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he whispered for her ears alone. “They don’t see us.”

  As soon as the small parade continued down the street and out of sight, the music started up once again. Men played guitars and sang, children raced across the lawn, and women congregated.

  “Let’s get something to eat,” Murphy suggested. He was famished and knew Letty must be, too.

  She nodded.

  Taking her hand in his, Murphy led the way. If they were to get separated in this crowd, it would be close to impossible to find each other again.

  He found a vendor and purchased a meal that consisted of a mixture of rice and meat, tasty and filling.

  “Don’t talk,” he instructed as they sat on the grass.

  “My accent is perfect,” she insisted, sounding downright insulted that he should suggest otherwise.

  “I want to listen.”

  “Listen?”

  He nodded.

  “Just what are we supposed to be doing?”

  This woman was driving him nuts. “Pretend we’re lovers.”

  Predictably, Letty blushed.

  “We only have eyes for each other, understand?”

  She nodded.

  It wasn’t difficult to feign an infatuation for Letty, Murphy discovered somewhat to his chagrin. In fact, the role came far more naturally than he would have liked.

  Every now and again he’d lean forward, brush the hair from her shoulder, and kiss her neck. Soon his head was nestled in her lap as he lay in the cool grass and stared up at the bright blue sky as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

  Within an hour he’d learned the whereabouts of the military compound and the commander’s name. News of the execution of four teenage boys was rampant. A day meant for joy had been tainted with grief.

  As the two women who strolled past talked about the execution, Letty’s eyes met his. “They executed children?”

  “So it seems.” Murphy stood and helped Letty to her feet. “Let’s mingle.”

  As he edged the way outside of the town square, he found two well-armed soldiers advancing in his direction.

  “Let’s dance,” he said, taking Letty’s hand firmly in his.

  “Dance?”

  It was close to evening, cooler. A row of Japanese lanterns was strung between trees, defining the area meant for dancing. Murphy turned Letty into his arms. He wasn’t exactly light on his feet, but he did a fair job of faking waltzlike steps.

  It had been one thing to sit with Letty, but it was another to hold her in his arms. She moved against him as naturally as if they were long-standing partners. Her warm breath tickled the base of his neck. The need to close his eyes and soak in her gentle softness was strong, but he resisted. Lordy, she tempted him.

  He found her staring up at him, and her eyes smiled into his. They continued to sway to the music. What information they might have learned in those moments was lost on him. Murphy all but drowned in the depths of her eyes.

  Unable to resist, he lowered his head and his mouth touched hers, tasting the softness of her lips, outlining their shape with the tip of his tongue. Letty moaned softly, and her arms crept about his neck.

  “We have to find Luke,” she whispered huskily, and hid her face in his throat.

  “We will,” he promised. He closed his eyes momentarily and breathed in the fresh, womanly scent of her. An educated guess told him the army held Luke Madden at the military compound with the other political prisoners. If the executions had already begun, there was no time to lose. He sincerely hoped, for Letty’s sake, that it wasn’t already too late.

  Murphy wished he could protect her from what they might discover, but he could see no way. Her brother was all the family she had.

  When the music ended, he led her off the dance floor. What they needed now was a vehicle. However, because of the festivities, the streets were barred from traffic. There didn’t appear to be a single car in sight.

  His idea about blending in became increasingly difficult as the soldiers filtered into the crowd. They appeared to be on a quest, searching for someone.

  “We have to get out of here,” Murphy whispered. “Come on.”

  They hadn’t gone far before he instructed her to cover her head with the shawl. She readily complied.

  Pretending an absorption with her, he managed to hide his face. Another pair of soldiers advanced toward them, and Murphy turned Letty into an alley.

  “Kiss me,” he instructed.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Just do it, and pretend you’ve wanted nothing more for hours on end. Understand?”

  She nodded. He had his back to the wall, and Letty slanted her mouth over his. She didn’t possess a lot of finesse, but to her credit, she gave it all she had.

  With one eye open, Murphy watched as the soldiers walked past. He closed his eyes and took control of the kiss, deftly switching positions so that she was the one with her back against the wall.

  His mouth was hard on hers. She whimpered softly and then parted her lips to admit his tongue. Her arms slid around his neck, and she was fully involved in the exchange.

  Both were breathing hard and heavy before he ended the kiss.

  “Are they gone?” she asked.

  “They were gone a long time ago,” he whispered.

  Letty muttered disparagingly under her breath, then asked, “Is everything a game to you?”

  “No. I just wanted to see how much you wanted me. Now I know. You’re crazy for me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. All I want is to find my brother and get the hell out of here.” She wrapped the shawl around her shoulders as if it were a plate of armor, her dignity sagging and badly ruffled.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get Luke out,” Murphy said with a confidence he wasn’t feeling. He slipped her hand around his arm. Night was just beginning to settle in. The real celebrating would begin soon, and passage through the streets of San Paulo would become impossible. They’d best make their escape now while they could.

  They’d gone a short ways when Letty stopped, staring. “Look,” she whispered, awed.

  Murphy caught a glimpse of two men on stilts, dressed in outlandishly colorful outfits. Each carried a flaming baton, and at intervals they would stick the batons down their throats and then blow flames into the sky.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  “I did once in Rio during Mardi Gras.”

  Suddenly her arm slipped from his. “What is it?” he asked.

  “I think I see someone I know.”

  Before he could stop her, she slipped into the crowd. Murphy attempted to follow her, but it was impossible.

  “Letty,” he shouted, uncaring who heard him. “Stop.”

  He skirted his way between, around, in and out, but it was useless. Within seconds he had lost her completely.

  28

  Marcie picked up her polished pink bowling ball and enthusiastically approached the pins. She studied the shiny hardwood alley and stepped forward, swinging her arm back and then releasing the ball.

  It rolled off her fingertips and coursed down the middle of the lane, zeroing in on the head pin. Then, at the last possible moment, just before the ball slammed into the pins, it veered sharply to the left, knocking down three out of the t
en pins.

  Her shoulders sagged with disappointment. She’d done everything exactly the way she should. The ball had zeroed in on the head pin, then had chosen a path of its own. All she’d managed to knock down were three lousy pins.

  “It’s all right, honey,” Clifford called from behind her.

  Marcie pushed down the sleeves of her thin knit sweater. The air-conditioning in the bowling alley had always been too cold for her.

  “I was cheated,” she cried.

  “You can get a spare.”

  Clifford spoke with the utmost confidence. His smiling eyes reached out to her, and Marcie did her best to smile back, but it was difficult.

  If her bowling was off, then she blamed Johnny…Jack Keller for that. Their meeting the night before had stunned her. He’d been so open, so sincere, so forthright. When she’d discovered that all this time she hadn’t even known his name, she’d been hurt and angry. Only later did she appreciate the risk he’d taken to set the record straight.

  “You can do it,” Clifford called when the ball return spat out her pink ball. “Here.”

  He joined her and, gripping her by the shoulders, gently eased her two shorts steps to the right. “You should be fine now.”

  Marcie poised the ball in front of her and stared at the remaining pins, determined to pick them up. She wasn’t going to let a little thing like Jack’s proposition unsettle her from the really important matters in life, like bowling.

  Smiling to herself, she started down the alley, putting some energy into her swing and delivery. This time when the ball left her fingertips it headed straight as a bullet down the right-hand side of the alley. The way it looked, she would leave the six middle pins standing.

  Disappointed she turned around, not wanting to watch.

  “That’s it, that’s it!” Clifford shouted. He waved his hand to the right as if that would influence the direction of the bowling ball.

  Marcie turned around, and to her surprise she noticed that just as it’d happened before, the ball took another dramatic sweep to the left. Only this time it solidly hit the head pin. The remaining pins exploded as if they’d been hit by a blast of dynamite.