GABRIEL HAWK'S LADY

by Beverly Barton

  "Rorie?" She didn't reply. "Rorie, you're all right. We're safe. We've made it to Papa Joe's." When she stared at him with sightless eyes he shook her lightly. "Snap out of it, lady. If you can't stomach bloody gore on the streets, how are you going to face what lies ahead of us? How are you going to find the strength and courage to save Frankie?"

  Save Frankie. Save Frankie. Her mind swirled with visions of the truck exploding. Of bodies flying through the air. Of the burning woman rolling helplessly on the sidewalk. Of soldiers mercilessly killing screaming civilians.

  Rorie heard Elizabeth Landry's voice clearly, reminding her of her destiny. In the end, it will be you who must save both Frankie and Gabriel. If you have the courage. If your love is strong enough.

  "I'm all right." The words rushed out of her at the end of a long, mournful gasp. Tears clouded her vision. She rubbed her eyes, wiping away the moisture.

  Hawk let out a deep breath. He clutched her shoulders as he gazed deeply into her eyes. She's herself again, he thought. Rorie Dean never ceased to amaze him. The woman was a hell of a lot stronger than he ever could have imagined.

  Hawk rapped repeatedly on the back door to Papa Joe's until someone called out from the other side, asking who was there.

  "¿Quién está alli?"

  "Murdock sent us," Hawk said.

  "Your name, señor?" the voice asked.

  "Hawk."

  The door opened. Hawk pushed Rorie through the doorway and into the shadowy storeroom. She hesitated after entering. Hawk closed and bolted the door behind him, then faced their host.

  "Guido, this is Señorita Dean," Hawk said.

  "Señorita?" The wrinkled, leather-skinned man grinned at her. His two front teeth glimmered with gold caps. "It's good to see you again, Hawk. It's been a long time."

  Hawk glanced at Rorie, wondering what she was thinking. She had questioned him about Murdock's background, but the truck explosion had saved him from having to explain. She would no doubt question him again. And the next time, she would undoubtedly want to know more about his past, as well as Murdock's.

  "Come with me." The short, potbellied man scratched his scraggly gray beard. "I have locked the front door. There is no one here except me and las prostitutas. You and the señorita will be safe at Papa Joe's."

  "Could you whip us up something to eat?" Hawk asked.

  "Omelets? I can make good omelets. Murdock brings me fresh eggs from the villages."

  "Omelets would be great. Thanks." Hawk patted Guido on the back.

  Guido led them through the storeroom and out into the hot, semidark saloon. Closed, heavy wooden shutters shut out the afternoon sunlight and any breeze that might be stirring. An array of candles placed in the center of the six tables scattered about the room and two kerosene lamps on each end of the bar illuminated the interior of Papa Joe's.

  "A thousand pardons, señorita, for the darkness and the heat," Guido said. "But we have had no electricity for the past three hours."

  Rorie smiled and nodded to their host, uncertain what her reply should be.

  "I need to get in touch with Murdock," Hawk said. "He brought us into La Vega this morning—now we need to get out of the city as soon as possible."

  "Sí, Hawk, I understand. Everyone wants to leave the capital now that General Lazaro is here. Everyone except the citizens who are loyal to the cause, of course."

  Rorie didn't need to ask which side Guido was on. The very fact that he wasn't fleeing from the city indicated that the man thought he had nothing to fear from the rebel troops. If Guido was a rebel supporter, did that mean that Murdock was, too? She already knew that Murdock was some sort of U.S. government agent, someone Hawk had worked with in the past. But was the United States backing the rebel army? If so, that fact was certainly top secret. For the past four years, the official statement from Washington had been that the United States held a neutral position in the San Miguel civil war.

  "How long will it take to get a message to Murdock?" Hawk pulled out a chair from one of the tables and motioned for Rorie to sit.

  She eased down in the chair and sighed with relief. Her body ached. Her head throbbed. She snatched off her hat, tossed it on the table and flipped her long braid over her shoulder.

  "If Murdock brought you to La Vega and told you to come to Papa Joe's when you were ready to leave town, then he will meet you here," Guido said. "He will go see General Lazaro first, I am sure. To congratulate him on this great victory."

  Rorie opened her mouth to ask how Murdock could get through to General Lazaro and why he would congratulate the man on all the death and destruction his army had brought to La Vega. But before she could utter a word, Hawk glared at her.

  "Don't ask," he told her.

  She closed her mouth. She would follow orders like a good little girl. But sooner or later, Hawk was going to have to answer her questions. Questions about Murdock. And questions about himself.

  Feminine giggles rippled through the air. Rorie glanced in the direction of the sound. Leaning over the wooden banisters that surrounded the landing at the top of the stairs, stood three young black-haired women, ranging in age from maybe eighteen to twenty-five. They were scantily dressed in thin nylon gowns that clung to their slender curves and left very little to the imagination. The dark areolas of their breasts showed plainly through the sheer fabric.

  Guido turned sharply and shook his fist at the three women. He cursed them in Spanish, calling them las prostitutas again. Whores. He told the women, whom he referred to by name—Alva, Trella and Dulcina—to go back to their rooms. The two younger women scurried away, disappearing quickly. But the older woman, who might have been in her mid-twenties, slunk down the stairs. She looked straight at Hawk and smiled.

  Hawk returned the woman's smile, and Rorie could have strangled him. Guido glanced from Rorie's frown to Hawk's grin to the prostitute's come-hither smile.

  "Go back upstairs, Dulcina," Guido said in English. "Can't you see there is a lady down here? She does not want the likes of you around."

  Rorie felt a sudden twinge of pity for the woman. She opened her mouth to tell Guido that it was all right, not to send Dulcina away. But once again, before she could say a word, Hawk interceded.

  "Go back up to your room," Hawk said. "You're Murdock's woman when he's in town, aren't you?"

  "Murdock will share me with you." Dulcina walked farther into the saloon, swaying her hips seductively. The thatch of black hair at the apex of her legs darkened a vee at the front of her gown.

  A scarlet flush covered Rorie's neck and face. Moisture coated her body. A trickle of perspiration dribbled down between her breasts.

  Hawk laughed heartily. "That would be generous of Murdock, but I'm afraid even if he's willing to share you, my lady isn't willing to share me." He glanced meaningfully at Rorie. "You wouldn't share me with Dulcina, would you, honey?"

  It was on the tip of Rorie's tongue to tell him she would be more than glad to share him with the delectable Dulcina or any other woman in La Vega, but instead she said, "You know how possessive I am, darling." Rorie rose from the chair, sauntered slowly over to Hawk and draped her arms around his neck. Then she looked directly at Dulcina. "I'm afraid you'll just have to wait for Murdock. Gabriel already has more woman than he can handle just with me." Acting purely on instinct, not taking time to thoroughly think through her actions, Rorie planted a kiss squarely on Hawk's lips.

  In her peripheral vision, she saw Dulcina toss back her head and march up the stairs. When Rorie drew away from Hawk, he pulled her up against him and finished the kiss she had started. When he cupped her buttocks in his hands and pressed her intimately against him, she stilled instantly. But when he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, she melted, clinging to him.

  Guido chuckled. "Mi casa es su casa. Sit. Rest. Make love. I will bring omelets and coffee. But I will announce myself first." He left the room abruptly.

  Hawk ended the kiss. When he released Rorie, she swayed, then grabbed
the nearest table. The man certainly knew how to kiss, she thought. But then he'd probably had a lot of practice. With women like Dulcina? Maybe. Maybe not. She couldn't imagine Hawk ever having to pay a woman for her services.

  "What are we going to do now?" Rorie asked.

  Hawk grinned wickedly. She hated the way his smile made her stomach flip-flop.

  "What did you have in mind?"

  "Oh, for goodness' sake. I meant, what are we going to do about contacting Murdock?"

  "We're going to wait," Hawk said.

  "Do you think Murdock really is with General Lazaro?"

  "You're not stupid, Rorie." Hawk sat down at a table, then motioned for her to join him. She eased out a chair and sat. "Murdock works for the U.S. government."

  "He's a CIA agent?" Rorie gripped the edge of the table.

  "Not exactly. The agency contracts him for certain jobs. For the past four years, he's been under contract to help General Lazaro win the civil war, by whatever means necessary."

  She balled her hands into fists. "And you? When you worked for our government, were you in San Miguel to help General Lazaro win the war?"

  "I was sent to do a specific job, which I did. It was my last assignment. After that, I went to work for Dundee's." Hawk's jaw tightened. The pulse in his neck throbbed.

  "Then General Lazaro is an old friend of yours as well as Murdock's?"

  "'Friend' is too strong a word," Hawk told her. "Let's just say he's an acquaintance."

  "You—you wouldn't tell him where Frankie is, would you?" Spreading her hand out across the table, she unknowingly asked for Hawk's response.

  Grabbing her hand, he rose from the chair, then knelt in front of her. "I work for you, remember? My only loyalty is to you. We aren't going to share the information King Julio gave us about Frankie with anyone."

  "Not even Murdock?" She searched Hawk's eyes for the truth. She had put not only her own life in this man's hands, but Frankie's, too. Despite having spent two weeks on Le Bijou Bleu with him, he was virtually a stranger to her. Could she trust him?

  Did she have any other choice?

  "Murdock is my friend. One of the few I've ever had. I trust him more than any man I know." Hawk released her hand, then ran his fingers over her cheek. "I would never betray you. And Murdock would never betray me."

  She swallowed hard, praying that she could believe Hawk, all the while knowing in her heart of hearts that she could. That she did.

  "So, we wait for Murdock?" she asked.

  "'Yeah, honey. We don't have much choice. He's our only ticket out of town."

  * * *

  After enjoying Guido's omelet and three cups of his delicious coffee, Rorie spent most of the afternoon watching Hawk and Guido play cards. The hours dragged by. Two. Three. Four. Five. Afternoon turned to evening and evening to night. The sounds of fighting lessened throughout the day, ending completely when darkness claimed the city.

  On her second return trip from the rest room, Rorie heard Murdock's voice rumbling down the hallway. It's about time, she thought. She was ready to leave La Vega and begin the journey up the mountain to the Blessed Virgin Mission high atop La Montana Grande. Considering the political climate in the nation, Rorie couldn't help wondering how long the usually three-and-a-half-hour trip would take. If she and Hawk left first thing in the morning, surely they could reach the mission by late afternoon. Then by the day after tomorrow, they could leave San Miguel—she and Hawk and Frankie. Within three days she could take Frankie home to Chattanooga. Home to his grandparents. Home to safety.

  When she neared the barroom, she heard Murdock say, "Mateo insists that we join him at the palace tonight for his victory celebration. The general is eager to see you again, my friend. And very interested in meeting Peter Dean's sister."

  "How does General Lazaro know about me?" Rorie walked into the room.

  Three heads turned in her direction; three sets of eyes focused on her entrance.

  "I told him, of course," Murdock said. "He's eager to meet you and give you his personal assurance that you have nothing to fear from him. He gave me his word that he doesn't want to harm your nephew. In fact, he's all for your taking the boy to the United States with you."

  "You told him I'm here in San Miguel to rescue Frankie?" Rorie stormed across the room, halting in front of Murdock. "Did you tell the general that I went to see King Julio before he left the city?"

  "Calm down, Rorie." Hawk headed toward her, but stopped abruptly when she held both hands in front of her to ward off his advance. "All right. Go ahead and get upset. But don't assume the worst. Murdock had good reason to tell the general about your presence here in La Vega."

  Rorie crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Murdock. "And just what would that good reason be?"

  "Nobody is going in or out of the city without General Mateo Lazaro's permission," Murdock told her. "You and Hawk and I are invited to the palace for the party … and to spend the night. You can have a good meal, a hot bath and a good night's sleep. Then tomorrow morning, you and Hawk can leave La Vega and begin your search for Prince Francisco. Lazaro will give you a jeep and provisions for the hunt."

  "Begin our search? The hunt? What—?" Rorie asked.

  "I told Lazaro that King Julio refused to tell you anything about the prince," Murdock said. "So, you and Hawk must search the whole of San Miguel, which could take weeks, even months."

  "I'm afraid I don't understand why—" Rorie said.

  "Lazaro isn't an evil man." Hawk walked around behind the bar and lifted a whiskey bottle. "He's simply a man who wants his country to be free from the dictatorship of a king whose family has bled the people of San Miguel dry for five generations."

  Hawk set up three shot glasses and poured them full to the rim. "Lazaro's done whatever was necessary to achieve his goals. And our government has helped him. He has no reason to kill Prince Francisco, but he would probably sleep better at night knowing the boy wasn't growing up here in San Miguel, possibly plotting to take his rightful place as heir to the throne."

  "General Lazaro is a man of his word," Guido said as he reached for one of the shot glasses on the bar. "Señorita, if he says he will not harm Prince Francisco, you can believe him."

  Hawk lifted his glass, then Murdock walked over and picked up the remaining glass. "Gentlemen," Hawk said. "A toast to General Mateo Lazaro. Man of the people. Savior of his country. Victor in the battle of La Vega."

  All three men saluted with their glasses, then downed the liquor. Rorie watched, frustration slowly building inside her. They were acting as if this was some sort of game, instead a matter of life and death. She started to tell them just what she thought when Dulcina came running down the stairs and straight into Murdock's arms.

  Dulcina spoke to Murdock in Spanish, telling him with earthy vulgarity how much she had missed him and just what she wanted to do to him and what she wanted him to do to her. Hawk glanced at Rorie and grinned. He knew she understood every word the woman was saying, and he was thoroughly enjoying Rorie's discomfort.

  Murdock swatted the young prostitute on the behind. "Dulcina, my sweet, go put on your prettiest red dress. I'm taking you with me to a party at the palace."

  Dulcina kissed Murdock so passionately that Rorie wondered if the two weren't going to have sex right there in front of everyone. But Murdock ended the kiss and shooed the woman away, telling her to hurry. Then he turned to Hawk.

  "Have a talk with Miss Dean," Murdock said. "Make her understand how this game is played."

  "I knew it!" Rorie stomped her foot. "If you big government agents think this is some sort of game, you're wrong. What's at stake isn't some jackpot payoff. What's at stake is my nephew's life!"

  Hawk came out from behind the bar and stalked toward Rorie. His eyes turned a searing black as he neared her. Instinctively, she backed away from him. He cornered her before she reached the door to the storeroom. She halted when her behind encountered the wall.

  Hawk spre
ad his arms out on each side of Rorie's head, placing his open palms on the plaster wall. "Murdock and I know what's at stake, honey." He leaned his body closer to hers and laughed when she shoved uselessly against his chest. "The games we play always have high stakes."

  She looked directly into his eyes, her gaze defiant and bold. More than anything, Hawk wanted to kiss her again, to capture and tame that wildness he sensed in her.

  He lowered his voice, so that only she heard what he said. "All you have to do is remember that I'm the trained professional. I know how to play to win. You don't. So, you follow my orders, play the game by the rules I teach you, and if we're lucky, we'll get Prince Francisco out of San Miguel alive." He brushed his lips across hers. "Do you understand?"

  She nodded that she did. Reaching behind her back, he grabbed her long braid, snapped the band that held it together and thrust his fingers through her hair. She didn't move, didn't say a word. She just stood there, staring at him, her heart beating like a trapped bird trying to free itself from a snare. He spread her hair over her shoulders.

  "We're going to Lazaro's party and you're going to be sweet and charming," Hawk told her. "And you are going to act as if you believe everything he says to you and as if you trust him completely. Understand?"

  Rorie nodded again.

  "But under no circumstances will you let on that you have any idea where Prince Francisco is," Hawk said. "In this game, we are General Lazaro's friends and he is ours. We want safe conduct out of this city, with a jeep and provisions for a bogus search. We don't know for sure what Lazaro wants in return, but whatever it is, we're going to give it to him. Understand?"

  "But what if he—" Rorie began.

  "If he asks us to bring Frankie to him when we find the boy, then we will promise him that we will do as he asks. Am I making myself clear? Do you understand?"

  She understood, all right. She understood that Hawk had once been a part of a world that specialized in lies and deceit; in espionage and counterespionage. He hadn't been a CIA agent. He'd been something far worse. He'd been a contracted operative. She had read once that those men were little more than mercenaries, hired soldiers and assassins.