Against the Wind (25 page)

“Is it possible Carlos found what he was looking for?” Jake asked carefully. “Maybe we don’t even have to worry about him any more.”

She shook her head. “There was nothing to find. How many times do I have to tell you that, Jake? You may be
completely untrustworthy but I happen to put a fair amount of stock in the truth. I don’t have the map.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know it was a map?”

She wasn’t fooled by his gentle tone of voice. “Because Carlos told me as he was slicing through my shirt. Not because Sam gave me such a thing.”

“So you still insist you know nothing about it? That Sam didn’t give you anything besides that candy box?”

“I’m not even going to answer you any more,” she snapped. “If you won’t believe me anyway it’s a waste of breath. Let me eat my eggs in peace.”

“I thought you didn’t like scrambled eggs?”

Maddy only glared in return as she applied herself to the eggs. Something was nagging in the back of her mind, some tiny little inconsistency that she couldn’t quite place. There was something wrong, something that didn’t ring true in all this, and she couldn’t place what it was. She pushed her hash brown potatoes around on the thick melamine plate and drank more coffee, racking her brain for the answer.

Jake had given up trying. He ate his breakfast quickly, efficiently, and Maddy wondered if he even tasted it. By the time he’d tossed money down on the Formica and escorted her back out it was approaching dawn, and Maddy still couldn’t figure out what was bothering her.

They were already well up into the mountains, and Maddy could recognize some of the landmarks. She’d spent a lot of time there in the past ten years. She knew the terrain like the back of her hand. She had the sudden, eerie thought that her knowledge of the area might be more than useful.

Sliding down in her seat, she once more leaned back and closed her eyes. What with all the coffee and her
sudden, nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right, sleep was the farthest thing from her mind. But she wasn’t about to continue her useless tête-à-tête with Jake. No matter what she said, he wouldn’t believe her, and no matter what he said, she’d still feel betrayed.

Jake looked down at the dozing figure beside him and that damnably familiar tightening in his gut began again. She looked white beneath her tan, and shadows of exhaustion lurked below her eyes. Even the light spattering of freckles had faded across her high cheekbones, and her mouth looked pale and vulnerable.

If only he could trust her to tell him the truth. If only he didn’t have to do this to her. But the situation had traveled so far along this path that there was no turning back. She’d be hurt, even more than she’d been hurt already, and there was nothing he could do about it but administer that hurt, doing his best to shield her from it at the same time.

You could say one thing about Maddy Lambert, he mused. She was tough. Beneath that fine-boned face, patrician bearing, beneath her warm, loving heart, she was tough and strong and brave, and not about to take crap from anyone. It would take a hell of a lot to demoralize her, to break through that icy toughness that was right now fueled by anger.

Unfortunately he knew what it would take, and he had no choice but to use it, ruthlessly, to his advantage, and to her advantage too, if she’d only believe him.

Damn Sam Lambert to hell. He’d done everything he could to keep the old man from entangling his daughter further in his crazy plans, but he’d been circumvented. Probably by Richard, thinking, as usual, that it was all
for the best. But it was too late to ask Richard, and Maddy wouldn’t or couldn’t answer.

He couldn’t see any way out for the two of them. Too much had happened, too much would still happen, for them to find some sort of peace together. If they even made it through this whole mess in one piece, there’d be no way Maddy would ever forgive him, and no way he could ask for her forgiveness.

She sighed, and the soft sound made him clench his fists more tightly around the steering wheel. For a rash moment he considered turning the car around, heading up toward Canada, running off with her and forcing her to love him.

But you couldn’t force someone to love you, and you couldn’t turn your back on your responsibilities, your debts, your destiny. The game wasn’t finished yet. He could only hope the two of them would at least be left standing when it was all over. But he had the feeling that it was nothing more than a vain hope.

The cabin was a rough-hewn log structure, set in a small clearing, surrounded by white pines and ancient old spruces. She’d worked hard on it over the years, fixing the windows, patching the lost chinks between the logs, even having Sally and Chris out for a wine-soaked roofing party that left the house waterproof but not much more than that. The summer’s flowers were long since past, and the cabin looked dark and deserted in the early-morning sunlight.

Maddy roused herself from her self-induced torpor to look at the cabin. The last twenty minutes had done little to calm her state of mind, and even the sight of her usually welcome retreat couldn’t ease her worry.

She was climbing out of the car, heading toward the
front door, when she noticed that the sturdy padlock was gone. And then something fell together in her tired brain, and she turned back to Jake, watching him as he followed her down the path.

“How did you know it was twenty-four hours?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said, how did you know it was twenty-four hours?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “When you got to my house tonight you said that Carlos must have decided not to give me twenty-four hours. I didn’t tell you that he said I’d have that long. How did you know?” Her voice was getting shrill, and there was no way she could control it.

And Jake, damn his soul, said nothing. Maddy heard a noise behind her, and she turned back to see Carlos standing there in her doorway, a grin on his face, his lizard eyes squinting in unholy amusement, his knife in his hand.

“Welcome,
gringa,”
he said smoothly. “I’ve been expecting you. Come in and make yourself at home.”

She whirled around, prepared to run. But Jake was right behind her, and the gun in his hand was trained on her, not on his supposed enemy.

“Go in, Maddy,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless. There was nothing she could do but go.

Shock and betrayal left her motionless, numb, physically and emotionally depleted. Even the gun in Jake’s hand had no power to move her. She just stared at him.

“Gringa
, if you think Jake wouldn’t shoot you, you are even more foolish than I have already thought. And you should know by now that I would have no hesitation about carving you up a bit. Move.” Carlos’s final word had the power to waken her out of her stupor. She turned then, moving down the path, keeping her back stiff and straight and turned away from the man who had betrayed her on every possible level.

She walked into the cabin, holding herself away from Carlos’s body, but he made no move to touch her. It was cold and damp and eerie in the pale light of afterdawn, and her small cabin was no longer a welcoming friend. It was the enemy.

“She didn’t tell you anything,
amigo?”
Carlos addressed Jake as he followed her into the cabin.

“Nothing.” Jake’s voice was a distant rumble.

“And I thought you were the great lover,” Carlos scoffed. “You told me it would be easier to charm it out of her than to cut it out.” He made a slashing gesture
with the knife, and Maddy watched him stonily, willing the panic to keep from rising and erupting into a scream. “But then, your charm is a highly overrated commodity, is it not?”

She could feel Jake’s eyes on her, those fathomless hazel depths that could look right through her, through the cotton sweater and the skin and the bones, straight into the heart of her. She held herself very still, unwilling, unable to meet that merciless gaze.

“Apparently so,” he said finally. “Ortega had her house trashed.”

“Did he really?” Carlos sounded distantly entertained. “You don’t suppose he found it?”

“His man was still watching when we left. I lost him on the freeway. If he’d found it he wouldn’t have bothered trying to tail us.”

“Who was it?”

“Chimichanga.”

Carlos grinned suddenly, and his basilisk eyes were tiny slits of amusement. “You realize what that means, my friend? Ortega no longer trusts you. It would seem that your usefulness as Ortega’s lieutenant is at an end.”

“We always knew it would be.”

“And you can come back and join us.”

“No.”

That caught Maddy’s attention. She lifted her head, but the two of them were caught in a silent battle of wills, and for the moment their hostage was forgotten.

“Don’t be a fool, Jake. We need you.”

“Enough is enough. I told you when I started this, that getting the map would be my last job,” Jake said in a rough voice. “I want Ortega stopped as badly as you do. But after that, I’m through. I meant it six months ago and I mean it now.”

“So you can live happily ever after with La Patronita?” Carlos scoffed.

Jake’s eyes met hers suddenly, before she had a chance to turn away. They were blank, opaque, completely unreadable. “No,” he said. “I don’t think that’s an option.”

Carlos snorted then, a sound of raw amusement. “You’re not free yet,
amigo
. Go search the car while I take care of her.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? I thought the little Lambert was of no importance to you.”

“I didn’t say that, Carlos. I said living happily ever after wasn’t an option.” Jake smiled a cool, pleasant smile that should have stopped Carlos in his tracks, Maddy thought. Carlos was definitely made of tougher stuff than she was. “But if you put one finger on her, touch her with your knife again, the women of San Pablo will find you essentially useless from now on. Do I make myself clear?”

Carlos laughed, unmoved by the threat. “Completely,
amigo
. And I know you could do it. Get rid of your sweetheart, Murphy, and we’ll search her car together. The closet would be as good a place as any. You told me she doesn’t like being closed up.”

To Maddy’s horror Jake nodded, and he gestured with the gun. “Into the bedroom, Maddy.”

It was the only closet in the place, and it boasted strong hinges and a sturdy padlock. Whenever she closed the cabin up for the winter she locked anything of value in its small, dark depths. She moved ahead of Jake, her feet stumbling slightly, her hands trembling in the panic that seemed to have taken permanent hold of her from the moment she looked into Carlos’s eyes.

The shallow slash in her side was stinging her, and the
sight of the black, cold gun in Jake’s hand terrified her more than anything had in her entire life. Anything, that is, but the dark confinement of the closet. All her life she’d hated being closed up. Even in the midst of winter she had to sleep with a window open, or wake up convinced she was suffocating in the darkness.

“Don’t, Jake.” Damn, how could she plead with such a man? But she had to. “Please, don’t.”

He’d opened the closet door. It was shallow and narrow, more like a coffin than a closet, and the panic bubbled up inside her. “Get in, Maddy.” His voice was completely emotionless, as still and distant as his face.

“Jake,” she whispered, her voice raw. “I’m scared.”

How could he look like that? Grieved, and kind, and loving. “I know,” he said gently. “Get in.”

She wouldn’t ask him again. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the closet, standing there in the tiny section of space as the door closed after her. She heard him fasten the padlock, and it took every last ounce of her strength to keep from screaming, to keep from pounding at the door and begging him.

Without a word she sank down to the rough wood floor. They’d emptied out the closet, probably with this purpose in mind, and there was just enough space for her to huddle there, forcing herself to take deep, steady breaths. She was trembling all over, covered with a cold sweat that ran down between her breasts and made the medallion cling clammily to her skin.

Think of something, she ordered herself. Don’t think of the damned darkness, or that they’ll drive away and never let you out, and you’ll die here in the darkness, screaming. Think of mountains. Of clouds and sunshine and flowers. …

And unbidden the scent and color of wild gardenias
came to mind. And Jake’s mouth on hers, his hands hard and loving on her skin, with the smell of gardenias all around them in the tropic night. Leaning her head against the cold, hard wall of the closet, she wept, small, noiseless tears, until she fell asleep.

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking them suddenly in the shadowy afternoon light. She was lying on the bed, a thin blanket over her, and the door to the main room of the cabin was open. She could hear the quiet murmur of voices, and as she gradually grew more alert she could see Carlos’s smaller, burly form sprawled in the rocking chair. Jake was standing by the door, looking out, and she could only make out Carlos’s part of the conversation.

Who had taken her out of the closet, and when? And did it really matter? Whoever had taken her out was also the one who’d put her in, and the reprieve didn’t cancel out the crime.

What mattered was that suddenly her earlier, uncustomary panic had vanished. Sleep had done wonders, and as she lay there on the bed listening to them, her mind was busy with plans for escape.

“It has to be done,
amigo,”
Carlos was saying. “You and I both know it.”

Jake turned then, and Maddy could make out his words. “Cold-blooded murder has never been my style, Carlos. Unlike you.”

Carlos didn’t even flinch. “Which only proves my point. Leave it up to me. Experience counts, you know. It will be painless, if that will make you feel better.”

“Go to hell.”

Carlos laughed. “What bothers you the most, Jake? The idea of what you call cold-blooded murder, or the
fact that you’ll be involved in covering up what happened in the Indian village? To a man of your principles that must rankle most of all.” His voice was sneering. “You’re a good man to have been with El Patrón. Always so righteous, so sure of your decisions. Did you never have any second thoughts about turning against your friends, your comrades, when you testified about that village in Vietnam? Or do you still feel righteous and holy?”