by Whitley Cox
I nodded. “I know. But I don’t know what to do.”
He gave me a small smile, his cheek puffy with sandwich. “You’ve already done so much, don’t sweat it.”
“I know, but we leave for Machu Picchu tomorrow. What if they want to keep you for another night?”
He shook his head. “I can legally leave whenever I want. They can’t handcuff me to the bed and make me stay. I’m a patient, not a prisoner.”
I heard a cackle from outside. Derrick was two doors down from the nurse’s station, and they all made it a habit of coming in every ten minutes to “check” on him, all of them shooting me daggers from their eyes as they fluffed his pillow or refilled his water.
“Okay, why do they all hate me?” I asked, pulling up a chair so I could sit right next to his bed. But he tugged on my hand and shook his head, scooting over in his bed like he had the night before and encouraging me to slide in next to him. I did.
He chuckled and took the final bite of his sandwich. “They found out you’re not my wife. And they’re pissed because you lied, but also mad because…” His mouth turned up into a mischievous smirk. “Now my Spanish isn’t great, but I think they’re upset because you’re with me.”
My head jerked, and I looked at up at him. “They all have a crush on you and are jealous that I’m…”
He lifted one shoulder, the smile still there. “My girlfriend? Yeah, I think so.”
Girlfriend. Hmm. But I just rolled my eyes. “They need to behave more professionally.”
His mouth twitched. “I agree.”
And then I had an idea, and I sprang up from the bed and headed out into the hallway and down to the nurse’s station. “Excuse me?”
Three of them stood there talking, and not one of them looked up, they didn’t even flinch. It was as though I didn’t even exist.
“Excuse me?” I said again. “Perdon?”
Nothing.
I made a rude noise in my throat. The nurse facing me lifted one eyebrow half a millimeter but didn’t look my way.
“HEY!”
Finally, three sets of dark brunette ponytailed heads spun to face me, cacao brown eyes glaring at me.
I smiled sweetly. “Great! Hi. I’m Mr. King’s girlfriend.” And then, I cupped my belly with both hands. “And we’re uh…” I watched as all six eyes followed my hands. “And we’re…bebé…you know? We have to go home. Por favor… Please? Our…” Crap. What was the word for airplane? Aeroplano? Sure, let’s go with that. “Our aeroplano leaves mañana, por…mi casa.” I cringed at how I must have sounded with my garbled Spanglish. They were probably struggling not to laugh in my face.
But they didn’t. Instead, their eyes lit up, and they were suddenly all smiles. All three of them rushed over and put their hands on my stomach. And one rushed off into another room, only to return with a bottle of water and a package of crackers.
“The doctor will be here within the hour,” I said, walking back into Derrick’s room, munching on my crackers.
He gave me a puzzled look, but his eyes flitted back up to the television that was precariously perched on a platform sticking out of the wall. He’d turned the television on and was watching some soap opera or something, with retro-looking actors in bellbottoms and floral shirts, and the men all had big bushy Tom Selleck mustaches.
“How’d you get them to talk to you?” he asked, making space for me on the bed again.
I took a sip of my water and grinned at him, thoroughly pleased with myself and my successful deception. “If they ask, we’re engaged, and I’m having your baby.”
His mouth hung open, so I did what any good pretend “girlfriend,” “fiancé,” “baby-mama” would do. I leaned over, and I kissed him.
11
“Perdon, Mr. King, but there are no taxi cabs available right now,” one of the nurses said, after Derrick had finally been discharged by Dr. Garcia and given a seven-day prescription to help kill off the bug that threatened to ruin our trip. “The taxi company says it is an hour or more wait. We have a festival right now.”
I grumbled under my breath. The entire city of Cusco was built on a hill, and of course, our hostel had to be at the top of that hill, while the hospital was way down at the bottom.
Derrick whipped out his phone and brought up a map of the city, pinpointing our location and how far we were from the hostel. “Ah, it’s only about a thirty-minute walk. We can do it.”
I spun around and gaped at him. “We most certainly cannot. You most certainly cannot. You’re sick. You just got released from the hospital, and you want to go hike a small mountain?”
He slung my backpack over his shoulder and started walking down the cobblestone sidewalk, the ancient city before us looking like something out of a fairytale. “We’re about to hike an even bigger mountain in two days; we need to practice. Besides…” He checked behind him and then crossed the road. “You and the baby could use some fresh air.” And then he grabbed my hand and pulled me along.
“Let’s stop in here for a second.” He grinned after we’d been walking for no more than ten minutes, having passed a couple of grocery stores and souvenir shops set into the old stone buildings. “I want an alpaca blanket. They’re really nice.”
We ducked into the store and started to peruse the wares. A tiny old lady with a round face and friendly smile blinked back at us. She was wearing a wide-brimmed men’s hat and colorful woven skirts, while her hair was in two thick braids down over her shoulders. I’d noticed a lot of women around town with the exact same look; it seemed to be a Cusco thing. Derrick had been reading the guidebook in the hospital and had said they were Quechua women, decedents of the Incas.
“Hola.” She grinned, her cheeks so round that when she smiled her eyes became hidden.
“Hola.” I nodded, picking up and admiring a beautiful black and gray alpaca sweater. It was so soft, and I imagined really warm. Just then I heard a kerfuffle and yelling, followed by grunts, scuffling of shoes, and what sounded like something ripping, a few rows over. Suddenly a Peruvian man ran past me, the front of his shirt torn. His eyes went wide when he saw me, but he didn’t stop, tripping on the threshold but catching himself and taking off down the street.
Derrick came hustling out from where the man had emerged. “That guy tried to steal my bag…well, your bag.”
“What?”
He nodded, out of breath. “Yeah. Was saying the same thing as the guy that chased us through the streets of Lima. Asking for the bag. Bolso.”
My heat started to pound inside my chest. “Holy shit, how’d they find us up here?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, but whatever they think you have, it’s seriously important.”
The sweet little Quechua lady pulled on the sleeve of my sweater. “Senorita? Miss?”
I turned to look at her, giving Derrick a pleading look, hoping that he’d be able to translate for us. I nodded at her, encouraging her to continue.
She started speaking, and even if I spoke Spanish I probably wouldn’t have been able to understand her. The woman spoke faster than an auctioneer.
“What’d she say?” I asked, after watching Derrick nod.
“She says we’ll be attacked again if we leave. That the guy is waiting for us. She’s offered up her son to drive us to the hostel.”
I gaped at him. “How the heck did you manage to decipher that? She’s speaking a million miles a minute.”
He grinned. “I only caught about every fifth word, but I think I got the gist.” The woman pointed at the doorway, and a few seconds later an SUV pulled up, and a young Peruvian man, perhaps eighteen or so, jumped out.
“Hola.” He smiled, walking inside the little store, clutching his phone. “I am Diego. Would you like a ride?” I hadn’t noticed before, but the Quechua woman had her phone in her hand. Had she texted her son? Otherwise, how had he arrived so fast?
But she just smiled and nodded, shooing us toward her son with her hand.
Derrick and I exchanged
looks. Could we trust them? What if they were in cahoots with the people who were after us? Oh God, now I was paranoid, thinking every Peruvian we met was after us.
“Should we?” I asked, not wanting to be rude, but also not sure if getting into a random SUV with a random person was such a good idea.
He let out a heavy sigh, his eyes shifting back and forth between the little Quechua lady and her son Diego. And he nodded. “I’m not sure we have a choice. We have to trust someone.”
“But he was waiting for us in here.”
While we were trying to figure out whether to trust these people or not, Diego was speaking to his mother.
“Excuse me,” Diego interrupted. “My mother wants me to tell you that the man who attacked your husband, he came in the back. We do not know him. And I was just outside in my car. I dropped my nephew back off at his mother’s house and am just returning to the store now.”
I nodded. “Thank you.” Okay, so their story checks out…kind of. Did we have any other choice at this point? There were no cabs available. If we walked Derrick would either keel over, and we’d be rushed back to the hospital, or we’d be mugged and possibly shanked in the streets, left for dead in some back alley. Oh God, now my mind was getting away from me.
Diego just gave me a patient smile. Could he read my mind?
I turned to Derrick. “It’s probably safer to catch a ride with Diego than walk. We don’t really have any other choice.”
His hand rested on my shoulder, and I noticed that his face was drawn down into a frown of discomfort. He was in pain. We had to leave; he should not be walking up such a hill having just been released from the hospital.
Derrick looked at Diego. “Okay, let’s go. We’re staying at Travesura.”
Diego nodded.
But I threw on the brakes. “Just a second.” And then I picked up the sweater I’d been admiring and turned to the Quechua lady. “Cuánto cuesta?” Two of the twenty Spanish words I knew.
She smiled. “Treinta y ocho.”
Crap, ocho was eight, what was treinta? Thirteen? Thirteen eight, what kind of amount was that?”
“Thirty-eight sols,” Derrick said quietly.
“Thirty-eight?”
“That’s about fifteen Canadian.” He took the sweater from me and studied it. “Seems fair if you ask me. It’s pretty decent quality. Looks like it will keep you warm.”
Hastily I fished my wallet out of my small purse and counted out the correct amount. I’d never been one for haggling, mostly because I was terrible at it. I was pleased that the woman didn’t ask an exorbitant price in an attempt to fleece me. So far, she seemed to be playing by the rules. So far, she seemed trustworthy.
I handed over the money, and she took it with another rosy-cheeked smile, asking for the sweater from me, only to fold it up and put it in a plastic bag. And then she turned around behind her to where a stack of hand-woven scarves lay folded in neat rows. She turned back to look at me and then back to the scarves, finally selecting a bright blue one, almost turquoise in color, with flecks of gold scattered throughout. And with another smile and a wink, she stuffed it into the bag, too.
“Regalo.” She nodded, handing me back the bag.
“It means gift,” Diego said.
I took the bag from her. “Gracias.” Meanwhile, sudden tears pricked the corner of my eyes, and I hastened to wipe them away.
“All right, we must go,” Diego said with a rush to his voice. “The man who attacked your husband, he could come back, and he could bring more people. We need to get you to the safety of your hostel now.” He quickly ushered us into the back of his waiting SUV.
We made our way up the steep incline toward the hostel. Derrick didn’t look very good, and I struggled with the idea of asking Diego to turn around and take us back to the hospital. But when he pulled up alongside the familiar red-painted door, with the brass plaque out front that said “Travesura Hostel International,” all I wanted to do was jump out, slam the front door and go hide under my bed.
“Here,” Diego said, handing me a card. “If you need help, or a ride again, you call me, okay?”
We thanked him and tried to offer him money, but he shook his head. “First ride is free. Next ride I charge you, okay?”
We laughed, and then thanked him again before quickly opening the door and flashing our wristbands at the camera. We were back inside the fortress in a matter of moments, breathing a small sigh of relief and a big thank you to Diego and his mother. Who knows what would have happened to us if they hadn’t helped?
When we finally got back to our room, I was at a bit of a loss as to what to do next. The last twenty-four hours had been an adrenaline-filled, rickety old wooden roller coaster in the dark. It was all the worst rides at all the major theme parks rolled into one. And now, after a series of unexpected and terrifying loop-de-loops and plummets, we found ourselves back at the starting gate, but with wilder hair than when we left and our lunch threatening to revolt back up and onto the floor.
I sat down on the bed, my bag from Diego’s mother between my legs sitting on the floor. I didn’t know what to do next. Should we even be going to Machu Picchu? Was it worth the risk? Someone was clearly after me for something. Was I safe anywhere anymore? It was only a matter of time before they sent someone into the hostel to steal my bag or tear it apart. Perhaps I’d just be better off handing it over when they asked, being rid of it, then I’d finally be rid of whomever it was that was following me.
Derrick came over and sat beside me. “You okay?”
I couldn’t say anything. Compared with him, I was right as rain. He’d just been in the hospital, poked and prodded as if he were some prize steer at the county fair. Not to mention, apparently he had some parasite trying to turn his insides to mush, so even though I couldn’t have been further from okay, I wasn’t about to let him know that.
I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and nodded. “Yeah…I’m fine.”
He wasn’t buying it. A finger came up under my chin. “Piper…”
It was the eyes, those soul-piercing, heart-melting eyes. Like the sky right before a harsh and beautiful storm. I couldn’t lie to him any more than I could lie to myself, and then I crumpled against him, and the tears came. They came on like a monsoon until I was a snotty, blubbering mess in his lap, my whole body convulsing in wracking sobs as the emotions from the last several days all came to a head.
“It’s okay.” He hummed softly as he pet my head, while I continued to weep in his lap. “Everything is going to be okay. We’ll figure it out. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me, okay?”
I lifted my head and wiped my wrist beneath my nose. I must have looked awful, and I said as much.
He chuckled. “You look beautiful.”
“You’re just saying that. I’m an absolute mess.”
His finger was back under my chin. “Listen to me. It’s going to be okay. We’ll get this thing sorted. Getting away to Machu Picchu tomorrow might be a good thing. Give us some time to figure things out. I highly doubt whoever is after you is going to send a lackey all the way to Aguas Calientes to track you down. They’ll just wait until you come back here, if anything.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh great, a welcome-back party.”
He laughed. “It’s going to be okay.”
I nodded and let out a big exhale. “I hope you’re right.”
Then something happened. The air in the room changed, and I was no longer tired, no longer scared or nervous or drained from the loss of adrenaline. I was aroused. And I could see that Derrick was, too. As if someone had pumped pheromones in through the vents, the room was thick with the need for sex. We eyed each other as if the other were a choice cut of meat, ready to be devoured.
His hand came up, and he brushed a strand of hair off my face. It was the simplest of gestures and the lightest of touches, but it was enough to send a surge of electricity jolting through my body.
“Y-
you just got out of the hospital.” Needing him so badly I could practically taste him, but not wanting to compromise his recovery.
His mouth turned up into a sinister smirk. “Doctor never said there was anything wrong with my cock, just my gut.”
I laughed. Touché.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” That same hand started to slowly travel down my arm, dragging the strap of my tank top along with it. “If you’re too tired or too… upset.”
I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth. “I want to… I want to so badly.” I reached for him. He covered me, pinning me to the mattress beneath him. “You make me feel safe,” I breathed, as his hands began to peel away my clothes slowly.
A masculine growl rumbled through his chest as his teeth found my nipple. “I want to make you feel other things too.” He gave the needy bud a nice hard tug. I hissed in appreciation. “I want to make you feel good. I want to make you feel worshiped and satiated. I want your whole body to ache from having been fucked to within an inch of your sanity.”
Oh God, yes, please.
“I want to make you forget your name because you’ve come so many times screaming mine.”
Yes.
“I want to make you mine.”
Wait, what? But I didn’t have any time to think about that last statement, because the man whose proclamations left me lightheaded and tingling was kneeling up before me, naked and hard and poised to fuck.
I licked my lips at the sight of him. God, he was fucking perfect and perfect at fucking. I thought for sure he was going to order me up onto my knees, taking me from behind like the animal that he was. But instead, he assumed my position on the bed between the pillows.
“You’re on top.” He grinned, reaching for me. “I’m not sure if you’ve been on top yet, and I’d like for you to try. Most of the time I’ve been too consumed with fucking you senseless, and I just hammer you into mattresses or up and against the wall until you come. But now I want you to set the pace. I want to watch your tits jiggle as you ride me.”
I swung one leg over his body, straddling him, his cock pressing on my core, demanding sanctuary. I lifted up onto my knees and used my hand to help guide him home, moaning as he filled me, split me open and made room for himself inside me.
