Running Wild

by Susan Andersen

  “You’re armed to the teeth—and you let a group of amateurs ambush you?” Dios mío. What were they paying these morons for?

  “How the hell was we supposeta know they’d go ape shit on us? I mean that’s fucking suicidal, right? Because we were armed to the teeth and in that neighborhood we were lettin’ it show. They kept their eyes lowered and talked strictly to each other—until we passed them. Then suddenly there’s like a dozen of the crazy fuckers knockin’ us on our face, holding us down and stripping us of our weapons. Once we were trussed up like a couple-a Thanksgiving turkeys, they kicked the shit outta us. It was during the beat down we learned they were still all jacked up on rage because Deluca and her man had somehow gotten the best of them maybe a half hour before.”

  “You were only a half an hour behind them?” ¡Dios! The gods were just shitting on them left and right.

  “That’s what it sounded like from what the goombahs kept ranting about. Then, to add insult to injury, the fuckers tossed us in a storeroom and didn’t let us out until about a half hour ago. Vasquez is still in bad shape. They broke one-a his ribs and it punctured a lung. I think his breathing problems were the only reason they cut us loose at all—they were afraid they’d have a murder rap hanging over their heads if they didn’t. I took him to the hospital and the doctors inflated the lung and say he’s gonna be okay. But he’s out of commission for now and I need to know what you want me to do.”

  “Where are you now and what’s the name of the river?” As soon as Palmer told him, Joaquin ordered, “Wait while I pull up a map on my computer.” He looked up the river and followed it toward the Amazon from La Plata. “Okay. It looks like the only town anywhere near your location is Rio de Villanueva. Are you familiar with river travel?”

  “Hell, yeah. I grew up on the Mississippi.”

  So maybe this would actually work out—something he’d been seeing damn little of these days while Victor breathed more and more heavily down his neck. “All right, then. I’m counting on you to bring them to me. Same rules apply—the woman doesn’t get hurt. And Palmer?”

  “Yeah, Boss?”

  He stroked his thumb over the finely honed blade of the knife he’d gotten to replace the one stolen from him by the americano. “You do not want to let me down.”

  * * *

  ON THEIR WALK back to the hotel, Mags thought about Finn’s singing earlier in their room. “So, what is the name of this lonesome ol’ town?” She lurched a little over nothing that she could see. It made her laugh.

  “You a little lit, Deluca?”

  She smiled at him companionably. “I may be the tiniest bit tipsy, although all that wonderful barbecue soaked up quite a bit of the tequila from my margarita.”

  “Tiniest bit tipsy looks good on you.” He stopped and looked around. “And where are we is a good question. I haven’t seen any kind of a sign. If this was small-town America I’d look for the water tower. But I’m not seeing one of those. Senor!” he called to a man smoking outside a bodega near the corner. “Que es tu nombre—” He turned to her. “How do you say town?”

  “Pueblo.”

  “Pueblo,” he raised his voice to say to the man. He gave her a crooked smile. “I know that’s not quite right, but it’s the best I’ve got. Hopefully—”

  “Rio de Villanueva,” the man called back.

  A big grin that did something to Mags’s insides split Finn’s face. “Gracias!” he yelled, then turned to her and crowed, “An-n-nd...he shoots, he scores!”

  And just like that something cracked open in her heart. God, she liked this guy. She’d been assuring herself he was an idiot, partly, she admitted, as self-preservation. She was attracted to him in a way so mammoth, it was ridiculous—and she wasn’t afraid to admit it scared the bejesus out of her. In her defense, she’d thought the label applied if for no other reason than how unappreciative he’d seemed of his family. Since it was something she’d give a bundle to have for herself, anyone who had a loving family and didn’t recognize the value of the gift he’d been given was an idiot.

  Except it turned out he appreciated them just fine. He was merely fed up with the way they stuck their noses in his private business. And while she personally believed being surrounded by people who cared enough to show an interest in the things you did was pretty damn close to heaven on earth, she supposed she could also understand his desire to carve out some space for himself.

  When they arrived back at their no-name hotel, Finn looked around the minuscule lobby and said drily, “Deserted as usual, I see.” They climbed the staircase in silence, but she couldn’t stop herself from sneaking looks at him when she was reasonably certain his attention was focused elsewhere.

  Because...oh, God.

  It didn’t make sense and she couldn’t say what made her do so, but she found she’d changed her mind about sleeping with him again.

  Of course it would be better not to act on it, she sternly, if silently, lectured herself and ticked off the various reasons why on her fingers.

  She’d consumed booze on an empty stomach—even if she no longer felt particularly impaired.

  They had to live too closely to each other as it was. Too intimately.

  Then there was the fact that the few times she’d allowed herself to get even the tiniest bit involved with someone, it had always ended badly.

  With all those cautions front and center in her head, she headed straight for her bed behind the still-dropped bedspread. She shimmied out of her outer clothing, peeled off her bra and panties and donned the boy shorts and tank she’d adopted as sleepwear. Hearing Finn rustling around on the other side of the curtain, she gathered her washcloth and facial cleanser, along with her toothbrush and toothpaste, and took them into the bathroom, using her bare foot to close the door. The soft click it made behind her was the sound of privacy, something that had been scarce since arriving in South America.

  It was a rare luxury not only to have an indoor toilet, and hot and cold running water, but to also have it en suite rather than in a room down the hall they had to share with the other occupants on their floor. Running lukewarm water in the sink, she held her cloth under the stream, wrung the excess water from it, then applied the damp cloth to her face, pressing it against her closed eyelids.

  And sighed with pleasure. Perhaps even moaned a little. She grimaced, however, when she lowered the cloth and saw it generously smeared with her eye makeup. She had an excellent bottle of remover and her favorite ultrasoft cotton pads in her tote for the express purpose of taking this stuff off before she washed, but had she remembered? Oh, no. She squirted her skin cleanser on the cloth now, however, and managed to scrub it almost clean of the makeup before returning her attention to washing her face.

  She thought she was pretty relaxed when she returned to her bed and put away all the toiletries except the washcloth, which she’d left hung over the edge of the sink to dry. She lowered herself onto the mattress and sighed with the pure pleasure of having something this soft and giving beneath her.

  But after the first few moments spent reveling in the unaccustomed luxury of sprawling upon a real bed, she started thinking once more about having sex with Finn. And unfortunately once the thought entered her mind that was all she wrote, for she couldn’t seem to expel it. She sat up, punched her pillow into shape, then lay back down, this time on her right side, which left her looking at the wall rather than the lightweight spread separating their beds.

  A few minutes later, she flopped onto her back again and lifted up enough to flip the pillow to its cooler side and stuff it back under her head. Her feet started tapping air.

  She tried slow, deep breathing.

  Mentally listed all the movies she would adore to do makeup on.

  Tried to calculate how much longer it would take them to get to Munoz’s grow farm.

  Nothing helped and she jerked upright and swung around until she was sitting cross-legged, staring at the colorless-in-the-dark spread. And demanded, “You
still want to have sex with me?”

  There was dead silence on the other side of the blanket and she waited one moment. Two. Then blew out a disgruntled breath. “Crap,” she groused. “You’re asleep. Doesn’t that just figure? I’m lying here all horny and you’re sleeping like a baby.”

  “I am not effin’ sleeping,” his low voice snapped, sounding thoroughly bad tempered.

  “But you’re cranky.” Catching herself reaching a hand toward the blanket, she let it drop to her lap. “Sex would probably improve your mood.”

  “I’m not sleeping with you while you’re drunk, only to have you turn around and be pissed at me in the morning for taking advantage.”

  “Please.” She made a rude noise. “I said I was slightly tipsy, not drunk. Shoot, I’m probably not even that now. Want to watch me walk a straight line? Tip my head back, close my eyes and touch alternate fingertips to my nose?”

  “No. I want you to go to sleep and ask me again in the morning.”

  “But I’m horny now.”

  “And a few hours ago you were never sleeping with me again.”

  She shrugged even though he couldn’t see her. “So I changed my mind. Woman’s prerogative.” She wistfully patted the mattress next to her hip. “I’d sure like to do it in a bed.” She smoothed the sheet with long sweeps of her hand and didn’t even notice that its thread count was a fair distance from silky smooth. “It’s a very nice bed.”

  He groaned and whispered a short, succinct swearword. She heard a rustling on his side of the blanket and smiled at the thought of what he could do for her. What she could do to him. They should probably have a discussion about the rules for a sexual relationship, but at the moment she was simply happy knowing he was about to make her feel. So. Good.

  Instead of coming around the edge of the hanging curtain, however, she heard him walking in the direction of the door and shot to her feet. “Hey!” She jerked aside the blanket.

  Just in time to hear him say, “I’m going out,” as the door closed between them.

  She threw herself on her back on the bed. Clenched fistfuls of her hair and tugged. “Well, crap,” she said to the ceiling. “Just...crap.”

  * * *

  “SHIT. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!” Eyebrows clenched over his nose, hands fisted in the pockets of his khakis, Finn strode down the sidewalk, barely registering a couple around his parents’ age skittering out of his way. “What the hell’s the matter with you, boyo? You shoulda jumped all over that offer.”

  He laughed sourly. Yeah, right. Da had drummed certain codes into Finn and his brothers’ heads when it came to dealing with what he’d loved to call the fairer sex. And one of the biggies was that you never, but never, took advantage of a woman who’d had too much to drink. Not even if that possibility was only bastard stepchild to a “might have.”

  “Consider how you’d feel if she were your sister,” their dad had invariably added, which got him scornful as-if sneers.

  Because, really? Like Finn or any of his brothers would ever be drawn to a woman who reminded them of any of their sisters. Still, they appreciated the guiding principle behind the old man’s directive. Each and every one of them would beat the bloody hell out of anyone who took advantage of a Kavanagh woman, be she sister, aunt or cousin.

  He’d only known Magdalene a handful of days but Jesus, she’d gotten under his skin. Usually, he was perfectly happy with a single night with a woman. It was essentially his preferred duration for most dates. Aside from Julie McMurty in high school, it’d been rare for him to keep company with the same woman for two or three consecutive nights.

  So why had it bugged him so much to be told she wouldn’t sleep with him again?

  He hadn’t been looking for this thing with Mags and when he’d stepped in when Joaquin was hassling her, he’d assumed it was a one-time adventure his family would ply him with single malt to tell and retell for years to come. He hadn’t known it was the start of a mission to rescue Magdalene’s family from a drug lord. Yet, he didn’t regret a damn thing about it.

  And that was the truly scary part: he couldn’t envision not doing this with her. She drove him nuts sometimes, but something about her just grabbed his attention by the short hairs and refused to let loose. She was the most interesting woman he’d met in a long time.

  Maybe ever.

  Little by little, his sexual frustration lost its grip and he started to pay attention to his surroundings. He’d stalked to the end of the small business district in a haze and, given that men with guns were trying to run them to ground, that wasn’t the smartest thing he’d done today. So from now on, he was on full alert.

  Not that there was much to see until he noticed another short street behind the one hugging the riverfront. Following it, he entertained himself trying to read the various signs on the storefronts and small businesses. Then he came to a building that needed no interpretation. Holy shit. He went inside and strode up to the lone clerk behind the counter. He tried out his high school Spanish on the man.

  And, okay, he already knew it was pitiful, but apparently he hadn’t realized how pitiful, because the reply he got was far too rapid for his comprehension. “Uno momento,” he said lamely, and about-faced to race out the door.

  He ran all the way back to the hotel and burst into the room and straight past the blanket that divided his bed from Magdalene’s. “Sorry,” he said when she bolted upright. “But get dressed, I need your interpretive skills.”

  “What for?” she asked even as she rose from the bed and reached for the stack of neatly folded clothing she’d set on the floor next to it. She began pulling things on over her little boy-shorts panties and tank top.

  “This burg’s got a train station,” he said and grinned. “And if it goes anywhere near where we need to be, you won’t have to get in the boat again.”

  “That would be most excellent,” she agreed, “considering we can’t predict how much more rough water we’ll run into.” She stood on one foot to put on her sandal, then switched to the other. After tweaking the strap into place over her heel, she dropped her foot and gave his chest a light slap as she brushed past him. “So what are you waiting for?” she demanded. “Let’s go!”

  “Hang on a sec. I need to dig out the map so we have some frame of reference.” It took only a little longer than that before he’d done so and they headed out.

  It took no time at all to walk to the end of the riverfront and as Finn escorted Mags around its corner to the avenue behind, she gave him a delighted smile. “I had no idea another street was back here!”

  “I know, right?” They arrived in front of the station. “Let’s see if we can get where we need to go from here.”

  It turned out they could get close and a short while later they had tickets for the next morning’s eight-thirty train. Finn dragged out his wallet and handed it to Mags to pay for them. “Ask him if we can use the phone to call the rental place in La Plata to see how to get their boat back to them. The card’s in there, too.”

  “Oh, good thought. I forgot all about that.” She twirled back to the man and launched into a discussion with him in her liquid, fast-paced Spanish. A few minutes later she turned back to Finn.

  “This is better than we could have hoped for. They work with this company all the time and had an inquiry just today for a boat to get four people back up that way, but they didn’t have anything available. He said he’ll call them back, and if you bring him the key and your paperwork in the morning, he’ll write us up a receipt for proof of delivery.”

  He laughed, snatched up Mags and swung her in a circle. “At last—something going our way!” He planted a swift kiss on her lips, then set her back on her feet before he was tempted to linger. Smiling at the man behind the counter, he said, “Gracias!” Then, wrapping his hand around the back of Mags’s neck, he escorted her out of the station.

  “Let’s go see if that bodega is still open,” he suggested. “There’s no telling how long the train ride will b
e, but I’m pretty sure it won’t have a dining car. I wouldn’t mind picking up some provisions.”

  “Good plan. I don’t like it when the food gets dangerously low.”

  They were in luck and reached the little mom-and-pop just as the proprietors were about to close up. Mags charmed them into staying open a few moments longer with the promise of being quick.

  And they honored her word, the two of them snatching up whatever looked useful or tasty. Their items were rung up thirty seconds shy of five minutes later. They both said “gracias” several times and were escorted to the door by the smiling owners.

  Back in the room, he squatted in front of his pack to make room for their purchases and carefully zipped their tickets inside the exterior pocket. Giving it a final pat, he rose to his feet and turned to find Magdalene standing fairly close behind him.

  Naked as the day she was born.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “YOU OWE ME a screaming orgasm,” Magdalene said. “And before you bring up the tipsy thing again, tell me, could someone too drunk to know what she wants do this?” Standing on her right foot, she held her arms out to her side as she brought up her left foot until her entire yardstick-straight leg was perpendicular to her body. She pointed her toes at him, then flexed her foot back toward her shin while pushing out her heel.

  He’d barely gotten used to that—never mind the whole package of Magdalene in all that exposed baby-smooth skin with its dangerous curves and intriguing dips—when she swept her still elevated leg around to the side and back to center, affording him flashes of her satiny pink parts.

  Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, she looked him in the eye. And demanded, “You in?”

  He caved like a cheap paper plate. “I’m in.” And he tackled her, taking her down onto his bed.

  She squeaked, but gave him a cool-eyed look as he pushed up on his palms to loom over her. “Good,” she said. “I’m up for doing this until we go our separate ways if you are. But if so, we need to establish a few ground rules.”