"Don't you remember?"
"We were chasing the truck. They had Frankie." She licked her lips again. "Shooting. A lot of shooting. You—you killed one of them."
Hawk brought the canteen to her mouth and lifted her head just a fraction. She moaned, but opened her mouth and drank the water greedily.
"The woman driving the truck shot out our right front tire and I wrecked the jeep." Hawk removed the canteen from her lips, recapped the lid and set it on the ground beside them. "You were thrown out of the jeep on impact."
"Are you all right?" With a great deal of effort, she lifted her hand slowly toward his face.
He grabbed her hand, brought it to his lips, then held it against his cheek.
"I'm fine, now that I know you're okay."
"You've been worried about me?"
"Yeah, I've been worried about you," he admitted. But she would never know just how worried. She would never know that he had bargained with God for her life. Nothing had ever been as important to him. Caring about a woman enough to offer to pay any price necessary to save her life made Hawk uncomfortable with his own emotions. If you didn't care about anyone, you couldn't get hurt. You would never be abandoned. You would never be vulnerable.
"Please, help me sit up."
She struggled with the effort. Hawk lifted her into his lap. She nestled her head on his shoulder.
"Do you hurt anywhere else, other than your head?" he asked.
She stretched a little, then groaned. "I'm sore all over, but no excruciating pain." She rubbed her right temple. "But I've got a doozy of a headache."
"You're damn lucky you didn't break your neck."
"What am I going to do about your foul mouth, Gabriel Hawk?"
He looked at her and grinned when she smiled at him. She was so beautiful the sight of her took his breath away. "I guess you're just going to have to put up with my cursing."
Glancing around the spot where they sat on the grass, Rorie realized that the forest canopy surrounded them on three sides. Through the clearing, she saw the wrecked jeep, its hood smashed against a row of pine trees.
"I'd like to try to stand," she said. "I can't just lie here. We have to catch up with that truck. Why didn't you put me in the back of the jeep and go on?"
"The jeep isn't going anywhere."
"What do you mean? You can change the flat tire and—"
"I can't repair the busted radiator. Without a new radiator, that jeep is staying where it is."
"We can walk back to the mission and borrow a… No, we can't do that. The nuns don't have a vehicle of any kind." She clasped Hawk's shoulder. "What are we going to do?"
"We aren't going to do anything until I know you're all right."
"I'm all right, except for a bad headache." She tried to lift herself from his lap, but he held her firmly around the waist. She glared at him. "We came so close to getting Frankie, and now he's with some woman who probably intends to sell him. Oh, Hawk, what if Emilio Santos buys Frankie? He'll kill him, won't he?"
"If King Julio is in the bidding war, then he'll buy his grandson. He has more gold than Lazaro and Santos combined."
"But what if—"
Hawk scooted her off his lap, then swept her into his arms as he stood. "Let's concentrate on the here and now and what our next move is going to be." He slid her down the front of his body and onto her feet.
Automatically, she draped her arms around his neck. "And what is our next move?"
"We pack up our supplies and head out on foot. Do you think you can make it?"
"I can make it." Removing her hands from around his neck, she stepped backward and circled around him. "See, I'm not even dizzy anymore. So, where are we going?"
"We'll follow the road until it starts getting dark," he said. "Then we'll find a safe little nook to spend the night. It could take us two or three days to reach Vieques."
"Vieques? How are we going to get to Vieques if this road leads straight to Mayari?" Rorie stretched her sore muscles, groaning softly as she forced her body to cooperate.
"We can follow the road about halfway down the mountain, then we'll have to cut off and head into the forest. If necessary, we'll hack our way through the jungle to Vieques."
"And while we're hacking our way to Vieques, what's going to happen to Frankie?"
Reaching down, Hawk grasped her hand and squeezed tightly. "I don't know. But you believe in the power of prayer, don't you, honey?"
She nodded.
"Then pray. Pray hard and pray often."
She understood what Hawk meant. Only God's intervention could save Frankie now. "Let's pack up our supplies and get started."
Ten minutes later, they headed down the dirt trail. Heavy clouds overshadowed the late-morning sun. Rorie carried two canteens of water over one shoulder and her holster across the other. Hawk had wrapped the machete in the sleeping bag and stuffed it into their food sack, then strapped the sack to his back.
A descending walk was far easier than a climb, so they traipsed along at a comfortable speed. Hawk monitored Rorie's movements, her facial expressions and the sound of her breathing. She appeared to be all right. But he still worried that the concussion she'd suffered might have caused damage that had no external symptoms.
"I've been wanting to ask you about something since that first night at my apartment," Rorie said as she walked along at Hawk's side. She knew he had slowed his gait to match hers, allowing her to set their pace.
"And just what would that be?" he asked. "Why I wear a gold earring?"
"Well, I did wonder about that, but what I'm really curious about is that snake tattoo on your hand."
Laughing, Hawk lifted his left hand and looked down at the emblem. "When I was a teenager, I belonged to a Hispanic gang in El Paso. We were the Cobras."
"Why did you belong to a Hispanic gang?"
"Are you asking why I belonged to a gang or why the gang was Hispanic?"
"Both, I guess."
Hawk slowed momentarily, readjusted his backpack and straightened the rifle strap. "I was in a gang because, in my neighborhood, all the boys who weren't wimps belonged to a gang. I was a real tough guy when I was a kid."
"Didn't your parents try to stop you from—"
"I didn't have any parents." When he realized how sharply he'd spoken to Rorie, he glanced at her, checking her reaction. She looked at him with her blue, blue eyes, eyes filled with tender compassion, and he wanted to pull her into his arms and find the comfort she silently offered. He cleared his throat. "I told you, I'm a bastard. I grew up in a succession of foster homes. Even my name isn't my own. The cops who found me were Jim Hawk and Tomás Gabriel."
"What happened to your parents?"
"Who knows?" He shrugged, trying to pretend to himself and to Rorie that he didn't care. Hell, he didn't. He'd stopped caring a long time ago. "The police picked me up in a rest room in an El Paso bus station, where I'd been left. I was two years old, wearing nothing but a soiled diaper. And I couldn't speak a word of English. I'm told I could jabber a few words in Spanish."
Rorie wondered if he realized that the pain and anger he felt vibrated in his voice as he spoke. Probably not. No doubt, he believed he had conquered all his emotions; that his childhood anguish held no power over the man he was today.
"So, they assumed your parents were Hispanic because you didn't speak English and could say a few words in Spanish," Rorie said.
"Yeah, that and—" He stopped in the middle of the road and held open his arms. "Take a good look at me, lady. You can't say I've got a pure Anglo bloodline, can you? The cops turned me over to social services in El Paso instead of sending me to Mexico because they assumed one of my parents was Anglo, and nobody could prove otherwise."
Crossing her arms over her chest, she stepped back and surveyed him from head to toe. "Mmm. Jet black hair. Dark brown eyes. Light copper skin. Wide, full mouth. Broad shoulders. Narrow hips. I see a handsome man. An incredibly handsome man."
"
You see a mixed-breed mongrel who doesn't know who his parents were and doesn't give a damn."
A faint rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. Rorie grinned at Hawk. "See, the Good Lord objects to your bad language."
The low-lying clouds swirled with gray fury. A barely discernible breeze fluttered through the towering trees in the nearby forest.
Hawk grabbed Rorie's hand. "Let's get off the road and under some trees before the bottom falls out."
He led her into the wooded area near the roadside, carrying her farther and farther into the thicket. When he reached a spot where an umbrella of tree limbs covered the sky, he slowed his pace. The heavens opened up, drenching the mountain with its daily noontime shower. Rain spilled from the clouds, seeping its way through the jade canopy and onto Hawk and Rorie.
Leaning back against a tree, Hawk pulled Rorie into his arms, pressing her close, as the rain soaked into their clothes. She lifted her face to his. He lowered his head. She parted her lips in unspoken invitation. His mouth covered hers with savage possession.
She clung to him, returning the passion of his kiss, ravenously taking from him and then giving back in full measure. He broke the kiss, gasping for air.
Rising up on tiptoe, she kissed his pierced left earlobe. "Tell me about the gold earring."
He chuckled, the deep sound resonating up from his chest. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"
"Now you have to tell me, and you know it." Lifting her arms from his waist, she draped them around his neck.
"I was fifteen the first time I got la— Er … uh … the first time I had sex."
Rorie's eyes rounded. Her mouth dropped open. "Fifteen?"
"Yeah, I was a late bloomer."
"You!" Laughing, she poked him in the ribs.
He grabbed her jabbing hand and laid it over his heart. "Her name was Rita and she was my buddy Domingo's big sister. Rita was nineteen and a very experienced woman by the time she— Well, Rita had this ritual. Whenever she made a man out of a boy, so to speak, she pierced his ear afterward and marked him with one of her many ruby-red glass studs. Being seen wearing Rita's mark of manhood was quite a coup in my neighborhood. You were the envy of every other guy."
Flushed with naive embarrassment, Rorie lowered her head, unable to look Hawk in the eye. Tucking his fist under her chin, he lifted her face.
"Are you sorry you asked?" He grinned wickedly.
"That's only half the story." Rorie glared at him, her cheeks stained pink and her blue eyes flashing.
"What more do you want to know? Are you asking for details?"
She shook her head vehemently. "No. I'm just wondering when you traded Rita's ruby stud for a gold hoop? I assume that involves another woman, doesn't it?"
"Well, as a matter of fact…"
Hawk kissed her quickly. She gasped. He laughed. She frowned.
"I wore Rita's fake-ruby stud for about six weeks, then I traded it in for a rhinestone stud another girl gave me. But for my sixteenth birthday, I bought myself this gold hoop, with money I'd earned washing cars at a garage."
Rorie laid her head on Hawk's chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. He held her, wanting her as he had never wanted another woman. That desperate need scared him. And he wasn't a man who scared easily.
How had this happened? he wondered. How was it possible that his desire to have sex with Rorie had become interwoven with a gut-wrenching need to possess her completely—body and soul?
While they stood under the protective trees, wrapped in each other's arms, the rain slacked off and gradually stopped altogether. By the time Hawk eased Rorie from his arms and turned her toward the road, he was painfully aroused.
They talked very little for the next couple of hours as they trekked down the primitive road. The distant rumble of thunder followed them as did dark, heavy clouds.
Hawk felt certain it would rain again tonight.
Not hearing or seeing signs of any other humans was a lucky break for them. As long as they remained in Santos's territory, they ran the risk of running into one of his marauding bands.
"We'll stop soon," he said.
"I'm okay," she told him. "Don't stop on my account."
Damn stubborn woman! Her face was flushed, but a pale ring circled her mouth. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of her frowning. He knew the signs. She was in pain, but didn't want him to know. Didn't she realize by now that she didn't have to keep proving herself to him? He already knew how brave and strong she was.
"Well, I'm thirsty," he told her. "And I need to take a—"
She cleared her throat loudly. "All right. I need to, too. And to be honest, I'm dying of thirst."
They made two brief pit stops during the afternoon. Each time, he questioned her about her head and she assured him that the headache was almost gone. He didn't believe her.
"We need to find some shelter for the night. A cave or the base of a dead tree," Hawk said. "We're going to get a lot of heavy rain before long, so if we don't find some type of cover, we'll get soaked."
"My mother always says that the Lord will provide." Rorie sighed as warm and happy thoughts of her parents filled her mind. They had given her a secure life, a home filled with love and devotion. How different Hawk's life had been. Abandoned as a toddler. Unloved and unwanted through his entire childhood. No wonder he tried so hard not to care about anyone or anything.
"Well, I hope your mother's right. We could use a little divine assistance about now."
The swirling clouds obscured the late-afternoon sun. Knowing that night would come early because of the impending rainstorm, Hawk led Rorie off the road and into the forest, in search of shelter. The mountain was littered with enormous tree-trunk buttresses rising out of the rich forest earth. Surely there was a still-standing copse of one of those trees somewhere close by. Or a cave. A honeycomb of underground caverns spiraled beneath the surface in many areas. All they needed tonight was one small hole in the mountainside.
They trudged deeper and deeper into the forest and farther and farther from the road. Hawk retrieved the machete from his makeshift backpack and hacked a path in front of them. Not one hollow tree anywhere. And not a sign of a cave or even an overhanging boulder. If they didn't find some sort of shelter soon, he would have to cut down some saplings and build them a temporary lee.
"Look!" Rorie cried out, pointing to the right, through a curtain of spiraling vines. "That's some sort of stone building, isn't it?"
Thunder echoed through the damp, verdant forest. A raindrop hit Hawk's hand, then another splashed down on his head. Cutting through the heavy vegetation he led Rorie forward toward the towering stack of rocks. He stopped dead still. Running into his back, Rorie steadied herself by grabbing him around the waist.
"My God, take a look at this," he said.
Rorie eased around beside him. "Oh, my." She stared in awe at the sight before her.
The jungle had reclaimed the once-magnificent structure. Part of the building lay in ruins. Grass and weeds grew up between the individual rocks comprising the floor. Vines curved and curled upward and over the closely fitted stonework. The back section of the ancient structure, which had been carved into the mountain, remained intact. A series of etched birds and snakes and human figures graced the stone archway leading into the building.
Thunder rolled overhead. The rain increased in intensity. Hawk grabbed Rorie's hand and together they ran up the stone steps and into the inner sanctum.
Drenched and breathless, Rorie and Hawk clung to each other as the rains came down outside in a heavy deluge. He dropped the machete to the stone floor. Lightning shot out of the sky and struck a nearby tree. Fire sparked between the severed limbs, but the rain doused the flames. Rorie snuggled closer to Hawk, grasping the back of his damp shirt.
"What is this place?" Her voice quivered.
"I'd say it was some sort of temple." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "You're shivering, honey. Are you cold?"
"
I'm just chilled, that's all. The rain is cold."
"I can't build a fire, but…" He hesitated making the suggestion. "I can pull out the sleeping bag and we can take off our wet clothes and—"
She laid two fingers over his lips. Her hand trembled. He kissed her fingers and eased her hand away.
"I'll spread out the sleeping bag and we can sit down and have a picnic. I'm sure I can find something edible in our sack." Dropping his hands from around her, he stepped back a few inches.
Smiling weakly, she nodded. "You do that and I'll fill our canteens and cups with rainwater."
She set the canteens out in the rain, then held the two cups under the downpour until they overflowed. She placed the cups on a carved niche in the stone wall and watched Hawk draw the sleeping bag out of the sack and lay it on the floor.
Did he know how very tempted she had been to agree to his suggestion? The moment he mentioned taking off their clothes, her body recalled last night's pleasures. But if she gave herself over to her desires tonight, things would be different. And she was sure Hawk knew that, too. The loving they had shared last night would never be enough again. If he touched her tonight, he would ask her for more. And she would give it to him.
She was already in love with Gabriel Hawk. She hadn't intended for it to happen. She had fought her feelings with all her strength. But she had come to realize that there was no point in fighting the inevitable. Gabriel was her destiny. And she was his. He might not realize it yet, but eventually he would. He could no more fight the powerful magnetism between them than she could. He probably thought that it was nothing more than lust. But he was wrong.
"Dinner is served, m'lady." He bowed quite gallantly.
She picked up their cups and carried them across the shadowy gray room. Nighttime would soon encompass the old temple and seal Hawk and her into a dark, safe hideaway. She handed him a cup, then sat down on the outspread sleeping bag. He sat down beside her and handed her one of Murdock's "gourmet" meals. Hawk finished off the unknown foodstuff hurriedly, washing it down with the water. Rorie ate more of the concoction than she'd thought she would, taking sips of water after every bite.
GABRIEL HAWK'S LADY Page 19
