Heart Stealers

by Patricia McLinn

  Her legs trembled as she shifted her hold on the slick, narrowing shaft of the shard, pinching it hard. Her guiding finger felt the tip finally give up its hold on his flesh.

  She gasped and dropped back on her heels, throwing the wood fragment out of their circle of light.

  “Gracias, Kendra.”

  Paler, Paulo still gave her a small smile and reached again toward his wound. His fingers came away red.

  “You need a bandage. The blood –”

  Even as she came up to her knees to look at the blood-oozing wound, she searched for a makeshift bandage, but saw nothing.

  She needed something – anything. She grabbed the tail of the shirt she wore – his shirt – and drew it up to his cheek, pressing it against his wound. That corner soaked through, so she unbuttoned one, then two buttons from the bottom to free more material.

  “It won’t stop bleeding. It won’t stop –” Her voice broke, and she realized she was crying.

  “Shh, shh. Kendra.” Paulo’s arms were around her, his hands stroking down her back. “There you go... Kendra.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and held on as tight as she could while his shoulder absorbed her brief, violent tears.

  His shoulder felt hard and warm under her face, his breath soft and stirring against her neck, his hands firm and rhythmic stroking her back.

  So alive...

  She shifted, realizing he’d drawn her into his lap. She could smell the damp heat of his skin, a faint whiff of soap mixed with the earthy, watery scent of hurricane. And something deeper.

  She’d known his kindness. His gentleness even. Now, all along where her body touched his, she felt his heat. His humanity. His maleness.

  They were alive... alive.

  “Paulo.”

  He went still at her whisper against his neck. She tipped her head back to see his eyes. They were on hers. Then they shifted to her mouth. She moved or he moved or they both moved. It didn’t matter. They were kissing. No testing of lips, no teasing of tongues. But hard, hungry kisses that made her gasp. Long, stroking, driving kisses.

  She arched against him, he laid her back, following her down, pressing against her.

  No subtlety slowed frantic fingers against straining bodies. No thought tempered urgent cries.

  They met, hard and fast. He entered her, she took him in. The rhythm already set, already racing. The finish brought her off the cushion, her head flung back. She heard him groan out a word, then felt his taut body tighten even more. A great warmth spilled into her, and then his body blanketed her completely.

  How long had their frenzy lasted? How long had they laid like this, still joined? She didn’t know. She didn’t care.

  She heard the storm raising its voice, first sighing then moaning. But it didn’t reach inside her the way it had before.

  Paulo kissed her before shifting away, covering her with the clothes they’d discarded. He rigged the slicker over them, narrowing to a cave-like opening to the small fire. Their world had condensed to this tiny space, this flickering light, these moments.

  He wrapped her inside the slicker liner, then cocooned her in the warmth of his body. They sat that way for some time she couldn’t measure, hearing the wind beyond them, watching it bat at the struggling fire.

  “It’s starting again. Past the eye. Into the trailing half of the storm. If it sits over us like the first half...”

  Paulo slid his hands up and down her arms, the friction and warmth of his touch pulsing into her newly chilled skin. He kissed the side of her neck, and she rested her head on his shoulder. He stroked slowly across her breast, finding her hardened nipple.

  This is different from before. This is more...

  She pushed all thought away and absorbed his touch.

  The storm grew beyond them, howling and dashing water at their covering. But the one inside her was stronger. He laid back, carrying her and turning her with him so she was above him. With him. Taking him inside her.

  * * *

  She fell asleep at times, for minutes or hours, she didn’t know, but each time she awoke, his arms were around her and she felt the steady pulse of his heart.

  She talked. Of growing up with her mother and without her father, and then of her mother’s death last year. Of Amy and childhood summers at Far Hills, and then Amy’s death five years ago. Of her job. Of her dreams. Of her fears.

  And he listened.

  Sometimes he sang to her, in a low voice that rumbled in his chest. Snatches of a tune she didn’t recognize, words she couldn’t understand. But it soothed her.

  When she woke to see narrow strips of brightening sky high above them, he peeled two oranges and they shared them. Then he licked the juice from her fingers, and she did the same for his, and they made love again.

  The next time she awoke thoroughly, she could tell the sun was waning. From outside, she heard gunshots, and knew that’s what had awakened her.

  Paulo sat up, drawing her with him, still inside the circle of his arms. He faced her and spoke in a steady voice, while the gunshots and a low roar of shouts came from a distance.

  At the end, she could only shake her head. “I don’t understand, Paulo.”

  He kept his eyes on hers for a long moment, before he released her to stand and start dressing. Then she understood.

  He was leaving.

  But he would come back. She understood that promise from his eyes. He slipped into the murkiness beyond their small fire for a moment, then returned with a stout length of wood he handed to her with a nod. She understood that, too. Protection. Nature had done its damage and now humanity added to it with looting and other crimes.

  Paulo looked at her for a moment, then took one step away.

  She lurched up. “No!” Don’t go. She wanted to scream it out, but didn’t.

  He caught her when her unsteady legs might have given way, his arms around her warm and familiar. He kissed her forehead and set her away from him.

  “I understand.” No dignity had come harder. “I’ll wait for you here.”

  He raised her hand, dirty, scratched and cold, to his lips and kissed her scraped knuckles.

  When he disappeared, she dressed in her still damp clothes, gathered what she could of her belongings, kept the fire going at a low, steady burn. And waited.

  A corner of her mind knew she should question if he would return, but she never did.

  When he returned – she didn’t know after how long – she stood outside the fire’s light in case the footsteps belonged to someone other than Paulo. She could see his face a moment before he saw her, could see his fear for her.

  “Paulo.”

  She dropped the wood, and stepped into his arms. He wrapped her tightly to him, and kissed her temple, her cheekbone, then her mouth. Their tongues delved in the rhythm their bodies ached to follow. But they broke apart.

  “I know,” she said. “There’s no time.”

  He took her hand and led her into predawn darkness of a day that promised clear skies over the storm-devastated island. They slipped through ruined streets, following twists and alleys, ducking into a deserted building and out of an empty doorway to a courtyard that spilled into another alley, over barricades formed of broken dressers, battered bicycles, shredded roofs, always edging higher.

  Finally, Paulo drew her in front of him as a darker mass rose out of shadows. Only when he reached over her shoulder and she heard a staccato knock on wood did she realize he’d brought her to a gate. The wooden surface opened, she blinked into the brightness of battery-operated lights and knew they’d reached the U.S. consulate.

  “Ms. Jenner! What a relief to see you!” She blinked fast, trying to adjust to the light, and recognized a female consulate employee. “Are you all right? We were so worried –”

  “I’m fine. Thanks to Paulo.”

  “Paulo? Who’s Paulo?”

  She turned, but Paulo Ayudor was nowhere to be found.

  * * *

  Nowhe
re to be found until he arrived at her front door in Far Hills, Wyoming, three years later.

  “Paulo?” Ellyn and Marti echoed the name, then moved closer to Kendra, closing ranks.

  She reached out, needing to touch him. Below the rolled back sleeve of his shirt, his forearm was warm and firm, the hair crisp beneath her fingertips. Real. He was real.

  “You’re alive. You’re really alive.... Oh, God.” She put her hand to her mouth, but a sob still escaped.

  He reached to her, wrapping his large, warm hands around her upper arms, his eyes looking directly into hers. “It’s okay, Kendra. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “But... but Paulo Ayudor doesn’t exist.”

  “I’ve used that name, and others. But I’m Daniel Delligatti.”

  She stepped back abruptly, breaking the connection. His hands dropped to his side.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came for you – and our son.”

  Chapter Three

  “You... you know...”

  The death of a fragile hope staggered Kendra. How many times in the lonely, uncertain nights had she pitted her common sense, her realism against the stubborn, foolish hope that if he was alive and knew she’d had their son he would have found her somehow? But the hope had persisted. Until this moment, when his own words revealed he had known, and he hadn’t come.

  She sank back to support her hips against the top of the couch’s back. Ellyn took her arm, but Marti turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen.

  The man remained standing before her, hands loosely fisted at his side, eyes intent on her, expression solemn.

  “Now I do. I didn’t for a long time. I couldn’t look for you. Not until recently. And then – you weren’t easy to find. The network wouldn’t tell me anything. Official channels weren’t much help, not even the consulate. But I heard you were pregnant when you left. Eventually I found out you’d had a son – and when he was born.”

  The heat of his dark eyes threatened to kindle memories from nine months before Matthew’s birth. She doused them by an act of will.

  His shoulders shifted as if he’d wanted to take a step toward her, then thought better of it. “I knew... I’m his father, aren’t I, Kendra?”

  But her mind had snagged on one phrase. One phrase clicked a thousand shards of memory into a mosaic that made sense for the first time.

  “The... consulate...” She had to form the word twice to get it to come out. “My God, you were there. That day. The day of the hurricane, before I went to La Baja. Before I found the guide. Before... You tried to talk me out of going. Tried to send me to the airport with the others. The baggy suit. The hair. And the bad posture... Tompkins.”

  “Yes.”

  “That was you. And afterward, after the hurricane, you’re the one I talked to – the one I talked to when I called to try to find – that’s why the voice nagged at me. It seemed so familiar, but... My God, I talked to you when I called the consulate asking for help finding Paulo. How’s that for irony?” The strangled sound from her throat could hardly be called laughter “When you – Paulo – had walked away from me, from us.” Her hands spread over her abdomen, an instinctive gesture to protect the child she’d carried from his father’s desertion. “You must have had a good laugh over that.”

  “You know I didn’t.”

  “I know? How can I? I know nothing about you!”

  Memories streamed through her mind now, driven by a different kind of hurricane. Altered by the storm of her emotions. Shock. Relief. Joy. Pain.

  She’d known Paulo, the Paulo she’d known and made love with, didn’t truly exist. She’d accepted that... hadn’t she? But to be faced now with how badly, completely and thoroughly she’d been deceived –

  “Kendra, let me explain.”

  “I don’t think you can.”

  “I couldn’t tell you before. I’m still not... They wanted absolute secrecy, but I never agreed.”

  “Secrecy? Having secrets seems to be your strong suit.”

  “Kendra –”

  “I’m glad you survived – or Paulo did – or the man from the consulate or whoever the hell you really are. But I don’t...” She put a hand to her forehead, as if that would slow the spinning thoughts. Then she forced herself to straighten. “I don’t know that I have anything to say to Daniel Delligatti.”

  “Then listen. Because I have things to say to you.” Now he took that single step forward. She stiffened, and felt Ellyn’s supporting hand tighten on her arm. “And things to ask.”

  “I don’t –”

  “The boy – Matthew, that’s what you named him, right? – he’s my son, isn’t he, Kendra?”

  Matthew.

  A new fear roared into her head. She’d worried and mourned for so long that his father wasn’t part of Matthew’s life that she’d never considered this other possibility. How stupid of her. How careless and unthinking.

  He’d said he’d tracked them down, once he knew he had a son.

  “Kendra.”

  He said it the way he had during those hours of the hurricane, stretching and rolling it like a caress. Her eyes met his for the first time without darting away. Did she see something of Paulo Ayudor in them? More likely a reflection of her own pathetic hopes.

  She shook her head, mostly at herself, but he responded to it.

  “I want to know my son. I want to be in his life. I need...” Something flickered in the darkness of his eyes, something more complex than anything she’d seen there in those hours on Santa Estella. “I would never try to separate you. I would never do anything to keep my son from being with his mother. I swear to you.”

  “Because I was fool enough to have trusted you before doesn’t mean I would trust you –”

  “You weren’t a fool.”

  “Right. To trust a total stranger?” she scoffed. “It was idiotic. I know better – I knew better. My God, someone I’d never met, didn’t know.”

  “You knew me, Kendra.” His voice was deep, sure.

  “Knew you? Of course I didn’t know you.”

  His certainty didn’t waver. “You knew me. And I knew you. The real people.”

  “That’s absurd. A tall tale, like Paulo Ayudor. It’s a –”

  She hadn’t heard the back door open, but the rap of boot heels on the kitchen floor caught her attention. Boot heels in a hurry.

  Luke Chandler, foreman of Far Hills Ranch, rounded the corner.

  “Everything okay, Kendra? Marti thought you might want some help.” He spoke to her, but pinned a warning glare from under the brim of his hat on Daniel Delligatti. Luke planted himself beside her, half a step in front, so his left shoulder provided a partial barrier between her and Daniel.

  But she could see enough to know the two men were exchanging a long stare. And to sense something in Daniel.

  Relief? Was that what he felt? A sense that if Luke did take a swing at him he’d know how to deal with it. And it would be an escape from the talking, from trying to explain...

  “It’s okay, Luke,” Ellyn offered when Kendra didn’t answer.

  Luke broke off the stare-down to shoot a look at Kendra.

  She nodded, agreeing with Ellyn’s assessment.

  Maybe getting rid of this man as fast as possible wasn’t the best response. She deserved an explanation. If that made him uncomfortable, too bad. She’d get the explanation. Then she’d send him on his way.

  She hadn’t yet sorted out words to express this new determination when Marti came around the corner.

  “He’s still here.” The older woman looked from Daniel to Kendra. “Luke can make him leave.”

  “Marti, I don’t think Kendra wants...” Conflicting doubts crowded into Ellyn’s voice, “I mean, they have a lot to talk over.”

  “Not unless Kendra wants to talk to him.” Marti’s flat statement rang with unqualified support.

  Four pairs of eyes came to Kendra.

  Luke broke the silence. “K
endra, you want this guy outta here?”

  She didn’t doubt Luke would try – and try his damnedest – to remove Daniel Delligatti from her house, from Far Hills and from her life if that’s what she said she wanted. Would he succeed? She didn’t know. Did she want him to? That was even murkier.

  She looked at the man who’d returned so unexpectedly to her life, and knew – with the same certainty she’d felt in the aftermath of a hurricane that Paulo Ayudor would return and lead her to safety – if she said she wanted him to leave now, he would go.

  But he’d be back.

  And he’d keep coming back.

  She released a breath so deep she might have been holding it for three years.

  “No. No, thank you, Luke. It’s okay. Ellyn’s right. We... we need to talk.” She glanced at each of her friends. “Alone. I’m sorry about our meeting on the special section. We can reschedule –”

  “Don’t worry about that.” Ellyn gave her a quick hug. “Give me a call when you can.”

  “Kendra, are you sure...” Marti’s frown shifted from her to Daniel and back. “As long as Emily’s asleep, I might as well stay.”

  “No, Marti. If you don’t want to wake Emily, I’ll bring her up later.”

  Still the older woman didn’t budge.

  “I’ll get Emily,” Luke volunteered.

  “Second door on the left,” Kendra told him.

  “Are you sure –”

  “I’m sure, Marti.”

  “C’mon, Marti,” urged Ellyn. “Let’s get our stuff from the kitchen. About tonight, Kendra, if you don’t think you’ll make the meeting for the babysitting cooperative –”

  “No, no I’m still going.”

  “Okay, then come by at seven, so we can settle the kids. See you then.” Ellyn left after a quick, reassuring smile at Kendra.

  Marti hesitated before she gripped Kendra’s arm. “I wish I hadn’t agreed to have dinner with Fran before the meeting... but I’ll see you there. In the meantime, call if you need anything.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  With a final hard look toward Daniel, she followed Ellyn. Luke emerged from the hallway carrying the still sleeping Emily snuggled against his broad chest. With a nod toward Kendra, he headed out.