Against the Wind (28 page)

“Into the bedroom.” He gestured with the gun.

“No.”

“Yes. Of course, we could do it right here, but it
wouldn’t be very comfortable. Get in the bedroom.” His voice was a sexy, pleasant drawl, the gun was pointed directly between her breasts, and she had no choice. It didn’t seem as if he’d cocked the gun, but what did she know? Not enough to chance her life on it. She moved, slowly, steadily, back toward the one bedroom the tiny cabin had to offer.

He shut the door behind them, set the kerosene lamp on the rickety table and turned, the gun still trained on her. “Now take off your clothes.”

“Jake, no.” Damn, she was pleading.

Jake only smiled. “Better to die with a bang than a whimper, Maddy. The sweater first.”

With trembling hands she pulled the cotton sweater over her head, leaving the medallion in place against her cold skin. He didn’t even glance at it, just gestured with the gun again. “The bra, Maddy. And the necklace.”

Her hand fumbled with the clasp, and the medallion slipped from her neck. The bra followed, and she let them fall on the floor. Jake’s angry smile stayed in place as his eyes flickered over the rapid rise and fall of her small, soft breasts.

“Now the jeans.”

“No, Jake.”

“The jeans.” His voice was inexorable, and it took her three tries to undo the snap. She slid them down over her hips, and then she was standing in front of him, wearing nothing but a pair of aqua silk panties.

Jake shook his head. “Everything, Maddy. I’m getting impatient.”

She considered refusing. She considered running, right then and there, and taking a bullet in the back. But she met his gaze fearlessly, sliding her hands beneath the waistband of the panties and drawing them down over
her legs, kicking out of them disdainfully and shaking her head back.

He moved closer to her then, and she could feel his body heat against her naked skin, through the denim clothes. He lifted the gun, and she closed her eyes for a moment in sudden panic, then shot them open again.

“Such a pretty idiot,” he said softly. “So very gullible, and so completely untrusting.” He ran the cold steel barrel of the gun down her check, an icy caress that should have broken the last barrier of her panic.

She looked up into his eyes then, unmoving as the gun traveled down her face. Sudden grief suffused her, as she finally saw past his remote expression, and she moved her arms up, pushing the gun away as if it were a flyswatter, and slid her naked arms around his neck.

“Oh, God, Jake,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”

He held himself very still as she pressed her body against his, the gun held in one loose hand. “Sorry?” he echoed warily.

Tears were pouring down her face. “You’d never hurt me. I’m such a fool. You’d never, ever hurt me.” She pressed her mouth against his.

Finally Jake moved, his arms encircling her, pulling her into the strength of his warm body, and she felt him trembling against her. Her face was wet with tears, and as she reached her hands up to cradle his head she found his skin was wet too. From her tears? Or from his own?

She didn’t even know what he did with the gun. It was no longer in his hands as they caught her naked body, pulling her closer, and she didn’t bother to ask. She tried to move her mouth away from his to apologize, to question, but he wouldn’t let her. His mouth followed hers, stealing her words with quick, hungry kisses that left her past the point of regret or curiosity. All she knew was the incredible wanting that had been building up in the last six months. No, the last fourteen years—that night six months ago had only made her hungrier.

The kerosene lamp lit the sparse room with a fitful glow, and the bright light of the half moon silvered the bed behind them. Never taking his mouth from hers, Jake scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to that bed, laying her down and covering her with his clothed body.

Her eager hands reached up to pull apart the remaining
snaps on his shirt, and the warm tough skin of him was there for her to touch. She pushed him over on his side, and he went willingly enough, his eyes bright and warm with desire. Pulling the shirt from his jeans, she started to push it off him when she saw the scar.

Even in the dim light of the bedroom it was terrifying to look at. Added to the various nicks and scratches that had marred his body was a new line of red, keloidal tissue, traveling from his shoulder blade around his side to disappear beneath the waistband of his jeans. It looked raw and angry, and Maddy’s haze of wanting was suddenly overshadowed.

She pulled away, sitting back beside him as his eyes watched her, knowing her so well. “It’s all right, you know,” he said softly, his husky voice a rasp in the darkness. “They put everything back where they found it and sewed it up again.” She could see his grin in the darkness. “I promise you, nothing’s missing.”

“Oh, Jake,” she said with a shaky laugh, “do you think I’d care?”

“I know damned well you would.” He took her willing hand and placed it on his hip, where the scar disappeared into the heavy denim of his jeans. Her touch was gentle, exploratory, watching him for any sign of pain.

“How did it happen?”

“In the shelling.” Her hand had begun to move closer to the snap at his waist, her fingers exquisitely arousing as they slid beneath the jeans.

“How?” she persisted.

“Everyone had left. Everyone but Richard. He’d gone back for … I don’t even know what he went back for. And I went back for him.” His hand covered hers as it lingered on the fastening of his jeans. “It was two months
before I was well enough or sane enough to get in touch with you, Maddy, and by then it was too late.”

“Shhh,” she hushed him, leaning over to silence his mouth with hers. “We don’t need to make excuses. Not now. Later, maybe.” And she gently kissed the scar, pushing the shirt off him, following the angry line down as her hand unfastened his jeans with sudden deftness.

He reached down to help her then, sliding out of his jeans, and then they were skin to skin on the sagging old bed she’d never bothered to replace. And time and space seemed to disappear, it was only the two of them, together in the dimly lit eternity. He let her experiment, stroke, and caress the wonder of his body until both of them were shivering with reaction and arousal. Then he deliberately slowed the pace, pulling her into his arms and setting his mouth on hers, his tongue exploring the soft, seeking contours as his hands held her head still for him. She lay quiescent for a moment, content to receive him, and then she responded, her tongue meeting his, sliding along it, and her fingers dug into his shoulders, kneading the smooth, warm skin that felt like molten gold against her.

He moved his mouth away, to kiss her neck, and his tongue was wet and warm against her skin. “Please, Jake,” she whispered. “Please, please. …”

He reached up, soothing the tousled curls away from her flushed, feverish face. “You’re always in such a hurry, Maddy,” he chided, a tender smile playing around his mouth a moment before he blocked out the light as he kissed her again.

“Please, Jake,” she whispered against his mouth. “I need you. Now.”

She could feel his smile against her lips. “Come and take me,” he murmured. “Now.” He rolled over on his
back, pulling her with him, and for a moment she knew an agonizing shyness. But her need for him far overshadowed any second thoughts, and she moved as his hands placed her above him.

She wanted to watch his face as she controlled the movements that slowly brought them together. Her eyes met his as she sank down, his hands a reassuring support on her hips, but after a moment she had to shut them, collapsing against him, overwhelmed by the unspeakable glory of him within her. For a moment she couldn’t move, could only lay there against him and absorb the sensations that threatened to split her apart.

His hands were warm and tender, soothing on her narrow back as she lay on top of him. “Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea right now,” he whispered in her ear, his voice just slightly strained. “Maybe later.” He started to move, and she panicked.

“No,” she cried, clinging to him. “Don’t leave me!”

Before she’d even realized what was happening he’d turned her over, onto her back, and he was above her, the link never broken. He settled her back against the pillow, and there was a shaky laugh in his voice. “I didn’t mean the whole thing wasn’t a good idea. We’ll just be more creative later.”

Maddy breathed a sigh of mingled relief and anticipation, wrapping her arms around him and holding tight. “I can’t help it if you overwhelm me.”

“You think you’re overwhelmed now? Just wait.” He began to move then, thrusting into the welcoming warmth of her body, and she tightened her long legs around him, arching up to meet him.

An absent, benevolent section of her consciousness noticed the fine tremors that began to shake her body almost immediately, building in intensity with a rapidity
she was unable to control. And Jake, Jake was lost too, unable to slow their headlong ascent into a whirlwind of love and completion that was astonishing in its magnitude. She shattered around him, crying out in sudden love and fright, and he was there with her, keeping her safe, as he flooded her with love and life.

Their breathing had almost returned to normal when he very carefully moved away from her, pulling away just for a moment before cradling her damp, exhausted body against his. “Are you still there?” he whispered, his breath blowing the wisps of hair away from her ear.

“I’m still here, Jake.” Her face was pressed up against his shoulder, and her answer was muffled, serene, and garbled. And Jake understood completely.

“Good.” His arms tightened around her for a moment, then relaxed a tiny bit, still keeping her safely held against him. “Go to sleep. Carlos won’t be back till tomorrow morning,” he drawled. “I still have plenty of time to murder you and bury the body.”

She jerked her head away and stared up at him with a mixture of guilt and an anger that was too difficult to maintain. “I don’t know why I thought you would,” she said. “I should have known. …”

“Yes, you should have known. I was so mad I could have quite cheerfully strangled you when you came up with that one. Don’t you know me, and know your own judgment, better than that?”

She leaned back against him with a sigh. “I knew you. But too many things have happened. I won’t ask for explanations. I don’t think they really matter in the long run. What matters is that I love you, and everything else is just a bunch of minor details.”

“Minor details like why I brought you up here? Minor
details like why I wouldn’t let Sam see you when he was dying?”

“You can tell me,” she said without moving. “You can tell me if you want to. Right now I don’t need to know.”

“You know it wasn’t Carlos who wrecked your house. Not that Carlos isn’t a threat when he’s not properly controlled. I happen to be one of the few people he’ll sometimes listen to. But Ortega has always been much more of a danger to you. He’d have your throat slit on a whim. The man he sent after you, Chimichanga, is one of the deadliest men in the Gray Shirts. You wouldn’t have stood a chance against him.”

“But why would he want to hurt me?”

“To even an old score with your father. To wipe out any trace of La Patronita. Word has reached San Pablo of Lambert’s daughter and her acts of kindness to the refugees. But most of all, he knows you have the map.”

“I do not have the map!” she cried. “Why can’t I convince you of that?” As she tried to sit up, the hands that had been cradling her so gently suddenly became strong on her shoulders, holding her down.

“You can’t,” he said, and the mouth that grazed her damp forehead with a kiss was soothing. “That’s why I wouldn’t let you go to Sam.”

The kiss had only begun to placate her, the hands holding her captive both enraged and aroused her. “Why not?”

“Because I didn’t trust him. He’d already given you the videotape to smuggle out. Any number of people would have gladly killed you to stop you, and he’d put you in that danger within minutes of seeing you for the first time in fourteen years. I didn’t trust him not to make it worse, by sending the map out with you too. We all knew he had it. For the last month and a half I’d been
trying to keep Carlos from cutting his throat in order to get it. I made sure Sam still had it after he gave you the candy box, but apparently that wasn’t enough. He must have gotten it to you. If the Patronistas or Carlos had known you had the map you never would have made it to the border alive.”

“Sam didn’t want to see me to give me the map,” she protested, thinking of the medallion lying in a pile of clothes on the floor. “He just wanted to tell me he loved me.”

“Maddy, Sam was incapable of loving anyone but his noble causes. I’d spent the last fourteen years with him. I knew him better than anyone. He didn’t love you, Maddy. He couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t believe him. She had the proof lying close at hand, proof she’d discarded without a second thought when she’d stripped off her clothes for him. But she wasn’t about to try to explain it to him. Later, perhaps. When they’d gotten past all this.

“Why won’t you believe me, Jake?” she murmured, settling back against him, her fingers toying with the silver ring that still hung around his neck. “I don’t have the map.”

“You have it, Maddy,” he said wearily. “I’ll accept the fact that you may not know that you have it, but you do.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“Richard Feldman told me.”

“Richard?” She had been so sure, so very certain, and now that sureness was slipping away. Desolation yawned in its wake, and desperately Maddy pushed it away.

“He wouldn’t have lied to me, Maddy. He knew he was dying. He told me he gave someone the map, and the way I figure it, it could only have been you.”

There was no way she could make him call back the words. No way she could return to the last moment of innocence that was now forever shattered. It was gone, slipping away from her like a technicolor dream fading into the harsh monochrome of reality, and there was nothing she could do about it.