MURDOCK'S LAST STAND

by Beverly Barton

  Hugo grinned broadly and slapped Murdock on the back. "Ella es muy hermosa y muy alta." He whispered something to Murdock that she couldn't hear and the two men laughed. Then Hugo snapped his fingers for the bellboy, who appeared to be no older than eighteen.

  Okay, muy hermosa meant what? she contemplated. Very beautiful? How nice. What a lovely compliment. But what did alta mean? Think, Catherine, think!

  Hugo reached out, took Catherine's hand and brought it to his lips. "I hope your stay at our hotel will be a pleasant one, señora." His English was on the same level as her Spanish, so she assumed the wishes were a statement he had memorized and recited to all the female guests.

  She only nodded and smiled, as her mind continued puzzling over the word alta and also tried to figure out why Murdock had referred to her as his woman and why the two men had exchanged such boisterous laughter. Some macho thing, she supposed. Had Murdock been simply trying to impress another man or had he been placing boundaries around her? She had every intention of asking him, as soon as they were alone.

  When they arrived at their suite, Murdock instructed the bellboy in his native language, apparently telling him which bag went to which bedroom. After the young man opened the doors onto the terrace overlooking the ocean, Murdock tipped him and from the wide grin on his face, she assumed the tip had been a generous one.

  "You've got time for a bath and nap before dinner," Murdock told her. "We're meeting Jose upstairs in the Roof Garden at eight."

  "What does the word alta mean?" she asked.

  "Tall."

  "Oh."

  The corners of Murdock's mouth quivered, but he didn't smile. "Hugo said that you were very beautiful and very tall."

  "What else did he say that you both thought so funny? And why did you refer to me as your woman?" Catherine stuck out her chin and squared her shoulders.

  Murdock wondered if she knew how much a defiant woman tempted a man to try to control her. Probably not.

  "Dammit, you can ask more unnecessary questions that any woman I've ever known!"

  "And you're the most secretive man I've ever had the misfortune of meeting!"

  Murdock removed his sport coat and tossed it on the sofa. "Get used to my referring to you as mi mujer, because for the duration of this mission, that's what you'll be—my woman!"

  "Now, wait just one minute. If you think—"

  "I think, but you don't. You jump to conclusions."

  Steam rose inside her, fueled by pure anger. She was doing it again—allowing Murdock to enrage her and make her feel foolish. "Excuse me. Why don't you explain the situation, if I've jumped to the wrong conclusion."

  "Despite how very beautiful and desirable you are, the only brand I'm putting on you is a verbal brand. Jose and a few people in Zaraza know what our real mission is, know why we're here in Lima and why we're going to Zaraza. The simplest way to explain our being together and also to announce that you're under my protection is for me to say you're my woman. Understand?"

  "I think so." Okay, so once again she'd been wrong in assuming Murdock was just being an arrogant jackass.

  "If that's settled, then why don't you—"

  "What were you and Hugo laughing about?"

  "Good God, woman! Do you have to know everything?"

  "Humor me."

  Murdock raked his cupped hand across the faint stubble on his lower jaw. "Hugo made a comment about your long legs wrapping around me when I screwed you.

  Catherine gasped loudly.

  "You asked. So I told you. Don't go getting outraged and giving me hell for telling you what you demanded to know."

  "Are all your friends that crude?"

  "Men are that crude, honey."

  "All men aren't."

  "Oh, just men like me and my friends and your father, huh?"

  "My husband would never have made an inappropriate remark about a woman, especially not in her presence."

  "Well, bully for your husband," Murdock said. "But in Hugo's defense, he didn't realize you knew any Spanish. And he assumed you and I were lovers."

  "Which we are not!"

  "Which we most definitely are not!"

  They stood there face-to-face, staring each other down, like two Old West gunfighters preparing for a high-noon showdown. Catherine's chest rose and fell dramatically with each labored breath she took. Everyone who knew her, knew Catherine had a temper. But as a general rule it took a great deal of aggravation to rile her. She had learned over the years to control all her emotions, and seldom allowed anyone or anything to irritate her to the extent Murdock did.

  The pulse in Murdock's neck swelled and throbbed. She could tell that he was as upset as she and trying just as hard not to explode. Usually, she was the person others feared, the one in charge, the one who had the power to make underlings shake in their boots. She certainly wasn't accustomed to having some big, overbearing man running roughshod over her and making all the decisions.

  "You bring out the very worst in me," she told him. "And I don't like it. However, there's not much I can do about it, but endure your presence until we have my father safely out of Zaraza. Then I hope I never see you again as long as I live."

  "Believe me, nothing would suit me better. Your attitude isn't conducive to winning friends and influencing people. And there's no place in my world for uptight, snobby, prudish women who are out to emasculate every man they meet."

  "Conducive. My, my. What a big word for such a small mind." Catherine flashed her adversary a wide, eat-dirt-and-die smile. "And if my aim was to emasculate men in general, I wouldn't waste my time on you. But, I must admit, the thought of dropping a stick of dynamite into your pants and blowing your … your masculinity to smithereens, gives me immense pleasure."

  "Ouch, Cat, your claws are not only showing again, they're scratching me." His smile matched hers in sheer brilliance and outmatched hers in pure devilry. "And if you want to drop something into my pants, I have a much better idea."

  Gritting her teeth and huffing, Catherine closed her eyes to shut out the blazing red glare that blinded her. The man was insufferable! Was her father really anything like Murdock? If so, how could her sweet, genteel mother have endured being married to the oaf?

  "In your dreams," she said, under her breath, then opened her eyes and gasped when she realized that he had silently crossed the room and stood within an arm's length of her.

  "Don't you know that the more you fight a man, the more determined he'll be to conquer you? And, Cat, honey, you have a knack for verbal sparring that can really turn a man on."

  That was it! She'd had it with this big, smart-mouthed wise guy! With her hands balled into tight fists, she took that one step that separated them, then lifted her gaze to make direct eye-to-eye contact. That's when she realized she'd made a mistake. A huge mistake. Murdock was looking at her as if she were the last drop of water in a sweltering, dry desert.

  "What the hell," he said as he reached out and jerked her into his arms. "We might as well get this over with."

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  « ^ »

  Catherine didn't know what hit her! Murdock's big arms tightened around her in an embrace that made escape impossible. In that one instant before his mouth closed over hers, a dozen different elements swept through her consciousness. The sexual glint in Murdock's hazel eyes. The faint scar on his left cheek. The musky scent of his masculine body. The sound of his accelerated breathing. And the width of his massive shoulders.

  With her mind overloaded by exciting, threatening sensations and her body betraying her by pressing against Murdock's rock-hard frame, Catherine opened her mouth to object. But before she could utter a word, he speared his fingers into her hair and gripped the back of her head solidly in one huge hand. Immobilized by shock and a primitive awareness, she could do nothing more than whimper when he took her mouth in an overpowering kiss. The ravaging attack possessed a tantalizing tenderness that she hadn't expected. And that hint of gentlen
ess was her undoing. All thoughts of protest vanished as she eagerly responded with a fierceness that equaled his. Lost to rational thought, removed from logical action by the all too human instincts controlling her, Catherine reached up and clasped Murdock's shoulders, clinging to him as he deepened the kiss.

  He walked her backward, up against the wall, and all the while devoured her mouth greedily. She trembled with expectation when she felt the thick, swollen hardness of his sex pulsing against her belly. Her short, round nails bit into the cloth of his shirt, trying to draw him closer.

  Their tongues plunged, swiped and sampled, participating in a prelude to actual mating. When he buried his face against her neck, his lips searing her flesh, his teeth nipping, she drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Shivers of desire rippled along her nerve endings when his hand covered one breast and kneaded softly.

  He thrust himself hard against her mound. Shock waves of fear and longing flooded through her. She gasped audibly, but made no move to stop him.

  "Do you want to take this farther?" Murdock asked, his voice ragged with arousal. "If we don't stop now, I'm going to have you right here, up against the wall. Is that what you want?"

  Yes. Sweet mercy, yes! That's exactly what she wanted. She wanted him inside her. Pounding. Throbbing. Filling her completely. Loving her as she'd never been loved.

  "This is insane!" She loosened her tight grip on his shoulders. "How—how could I have let this happen?" She had been on the verge of having sex with Murdock—a man she neither liked nor respected. Had she lost her mind?

  "You didn't let it happen, honey." Murdock eased his body away from hers and took a step back, allowing her breathing room. "I could see this coming a mile off. It's been there, between us, ever since we recognized each other at the airport in Atlanta yesterday."

  Catherine shook her head as if to dislodge irrational thoughts and better comprehend what he'd just said. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  Running his hand across the back of his neck, Murdock snorted. "I'm talking about this sexual thing between us. And don't even try to deny it."

  She glared at him, but didn't contradict him. "I want you to know that I don't usually … that I never act this way. You took me by surprise and didn't give me time to think. I'm not accustomed to being treated like a…a…"

  "Like a woman?" Smirking, he narrowed his gaze as he scanned her body from hips to breasts to face.

  "Like a tramp!" she corrected.

  "I've never treated any woman like a tramp, even if she was one. What we just shared was mild compared to heavy-duty loving. Something you have obviously never experienced."

  Squaring her shoulders, Catherine forced herself to move away from the support of the wall. "My sexual experience is none of your business and I have no intention of discussing it with you."

  "Fine by me. No need to bore me, is there?"

  He grinned at her then, and she wanted nothing more than to pick up the nearest deadly object and toss it at his head. The man was insufferable! And so damn sure of himself!

  "You've proved your point," she told him. "For some unfathomable reason, there's this raw, primitive attraction between us. But I hate it. Do you hear me, Murdock? I hate that feeling!"

  "Yeah, something like that can be a damned nuisance, can't it? Especially if the other person isn't your type."

  "Then we understand each other perfectly, don't we?"

  Apparently feeling more confident and in control by the minute, Catherine dared to walk right up to him and stick her snooty little nose in the air. He grinned broadly, amused by her foolish assumption that stating the truth now made her immune to him.

  "This will not happen again," she informed him.

  Unable to resist proving a point, Murdock skimmed her cheek with the back of his hand. She sucked in a harsh breath. Her eyes widened, as if she'd been greatly surprised that a mere touch could ignite such powerful feelings inside her. He knew exactly how she felt because he felt it, too. Every time he got near her.

  "Powerful stuff, sexual attraction." His throaty, gravelly voice added a highly sensual tone to his words.

  "Don't ever touch me again." She hated the way her voice quavered when she issued the order.

  When he laughed, she sensed he was laughing at her, right in her face. How could she possibly be attracted to such a man? He was everything she disliked. Aloysius Murdock was the same type of human being Lanny McCroskey had been. A person capable of deserting a wife and child. A soldier to whom killing was second nature. A brutal, insensitive, uncaring bastard!

  And a lover capable of breaking a woman's heart and yet at the same time securing that woman's love until the day she died.

  "You're safe from me, Cat, as long as you don't throw yourself at me," he said. "But if you ask for it, you just might get it. So be careful about sending out those sexual signals."

  "I didn't send out any sexual signals … Aloysius!"

  "You did, just then," he told her. "You like to provoke me. To see just how far you can push me."

  "This conversation is over! I'm going to my room until it's time to meet your Mr. Jose."

  She snapped around and marched into the bedroom where the bellboy had taken her suitcase. When she slammed the door, Murdock shook his head. Catherine Price was a time bomb, waiting to explode. They'd both be better off if they just went ahead and did the nasty and diffused the tension between them. But he suspected that Ms. Uptight wasn't into casual sex. Too bad.

  * * *

  The Roof Garden on the twelfth floor overlooked a breathtaking view of the bay and offered a sophisticated national and international menu. Catherine felt slightly underdressed, but her casual attire matched Murdock's. And Jose Alverez's black suit, gray shirt and burgundy silk tie complimented his date's slinky black dress, which left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Charo, a bosomy brunette with huge cow eyes, didn't speak a word of English, but she managed to convey her interest in Murdock by body language alone.

  "It bothers, you, señora, that my little Charo is so taken with Murdock?" Jose reached across the table and lifted Catherine's hand in his, as they watched the other couple on the dance floor. "Believe me, it is harmless. A mild flirtation. After all, why would Murdock want any other woman when he has you?"

  Catherine forced a smile. She wanted to scream, But he doesn't have me! "I could care less what Murdock does or doesn't do with your little Charo, but I'm tired of wasting time. I thought we were having dinner with you to discuss our trip into Zaraza. Instead we've eaten a huge meal, drank expensive wine and now we … he is dancing the night away."

  Jose exposed a sparkling set of perfect teeth when he smiled. He brought Catherine's hand to his lips. "A little pleasure mixed with business. It is the way I prefer doing things. Makes life so much more pleasant."

  Just as she was about to demand information about their flight into Zaraza, Murdock brought Charo back to the table. She all but had herself draped around him. A vulgar, disgusting display, Catherine thought.

  "Your Catherine is much distressed," Jose said. "I fear she is not a party girl."

  "Been giving you a hard time, has she?" Murdock cast her a teasing glance.

  "She wishes to discuss business," Jose said.

  "I simply want to know what arrangements have been made to fly us into Zaraza." Catherine tapped her fingertips on the table, the sound muffled by the crisp, white linen tablecloth.

  "Ease her mind, amigo," Murdock said. "Tell her what the plans are."

  "I have arranged for two seats aboard a seven o'clock flight in the morning," Jose said. "You will reach San Carlos in a little over an hour and the American ambassador will meet you at the airport. He will have a car and driver waiting for you to take you to General Ramos's home. A perfectly natural way to handle things, do you not think so, since you and Murdock are American citizens and so is Mr. McCroskey?"

  "Thanks." Murdock smiled at Jose. "And who's my contact to get us a flight out of the country?" />
  "The proprietor of Hotel Dulce de Rosa will provide you with whatever assistance you need. If not personally, then through friends." Jose glanced around the room, checking to see if anyone seemed interested in their conversation. "You must get in and out of Zaraza quickly. Within a week, two at the most, the war will explode again."

  "So, now is the calm before the storm," Murdock said.

  "Sí, la calma antes de la tormenta."

  "Do you have any word on Lanny's condition?" Murdock lowered his voice to a deep whisper.

  Apparently feeling neglected while the others conversed in a language she didn't understand, Charo scooted her chair closer to Jose and murmured something in his ear. Jose slipped his arm around the woman's bare shoulders and said something to her that obviously pleased her, because she giggled and tap-danced her fingers up his arm and neck and into his hair.

  Jose glanced at Catherine, his black eyes filled with hesitation. "He is alive, but not well."

  Catherine suspected that he knew more, but chose not to burden her with the complete truth. Another macho man protecting the weak woman!

  Jose turned to Murdock. "El puede morir."

  Murdock's facial muscles tensed.

  "What are y'all not telling me?" Catherine asked.

  Jose looked to Murdock for permission to speak. Murdock nodded.

  "El puede morir. He could be dying," Jose translated. "Your father is very sick, very weak. Malnourished and … and suffering from tuberculosis."

  "Oh."

  "Once we get him back home, we'll get him the best medical treatment possible," Murdock assured her. "Don't worry about anything now, except getting him out of Zaraza."

  "You're right," she agreed. "One problem at a time."

  * * *

  The flight to San Carlos had been uneventful, except for the rocking of the small plane from air turbulence. Murdock had cautioned her before takeoff to let him handle everything, since he knew the language and she didn't. However, she suspected that even if she'd been fluent in Spanish, he would have insisted on her keeping quiet. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have allowed him—or anyone—to control her actions. But nothing was normal about this trip or her part in it. She was out of her league and she knew it.