Flame of Diablo (12 page)

moved automatically to pull her torn

shirt

across

her

breasts.

Carlos'

clutching hands had ripped the delicate

lace of her bra clean in half, and most of

the buttons of her shirt were torn off and

missing, so all she could do was drag

the material clumsily into place. When

she looked up she saw that Vitas de

Mendoza had been watching her

fumbling actions, a small grim smile

playing about his mouth.

Carlos was speaking again, his voice

rising to an angry shout. When he had

finished, Vitas turned to Rachel again.

'My friend here is very angry. He says

only a madwoman would expect him to

take her to Diablo for the wretched fee

you agreed upon. That you must have

known you would be expected to pay—

in other ways.'

'It's a lie,' she said desperately. 'I paid

him what he asked. Oh God, I wish I'd

never started this—never come here!'

'That,'

Vitas

de

Mendoza

said

crushingly, 'is perhaps the first piece of

common sense I have heard from your

lips.' The gun he was holding moved and

lifted. Carlos scrambled to his feet

staring at the gleaming barrel which was

pointing straight at him, bleating

something in a high, trembling voice, the

beads of sweat standing out on his

suddenly sallow face.

Rachel said breathlessly, 'What—what

are you going to do?'

He did not look at her, he was staring at

Carlos with that same grim smile. He

said, 'You are not the first woman,

querida,
to suffer at the hands of friend

Carlos. Perhaps I would do the world a

favour if I made sure you were the last.'

'But you can't!' Rachel's voice was sharp

with horror and disbelief.

'But I can,' he said quite gently. 'I have

the means'—the gun moved slightly

—'and the will to do it.'

'But I won't let you!' Rachel scrambled

up on to her knees. 'It would be cold-

blooded murder, and you know it. No

country on earth would let you get away

with such a thing. And nothing happened

—you know that.'

'Yes, I know that,' he said. 'But if I had

been half an hour later—what then?

Carlos likes to play rough, you know,

nor would that have been the end of it.

You are nowhere near Diablo. My guess

is that Carlos .intended to take you to

meet some friends of his at the

Venezuelan border, and that would have

been the last anyone heard of you—

unless you have friends who make a

habit of patronising the
casas de putas

in Caracas or Buenos Aires.'

A deep shudder ran through her body.

She'd heard of such things happening, of

course, but had always privately written

them off as old wives' tales. It had never

occurred to her even remotely that such a

fate could be hers.

'In spite of that,' she said in a low voice,

'you can't kill him.'

He gave her a long, hard look, then

gestured the cringing Carlos to his feet.

'You are a fortunate man,
amigo.
The

senorita
gives you your life. I would not

have been so generous. Now on your

way. But first—the belt from your

trousers, if you please.' As Carlos

hesitated, he went on mercilessly.

'Modesty is not a virtue I would have

associated with you, little man. Not long

ago you were only too eager to remove

your trousers in front of the
senorita
.' He

snapped his fingers. 'Your belt, and don't

keep me waiting any longer.'

As Carlos struggled to obey him,

muttering

what

appeared

to

be

blasphemies under his breath, Vitas

continued, 'As you are no doubt aware,

there is a small settlement a few miles

downstream. A brisk walk in the night

air will cool your ardour. And don't let

me see your ugly face round Asuncion

again.'

He gestured with the gun and Carlos

went off at a stumbling run, clutching

with both hands at the loosened

waistband of his pants as he did so. For

a little while, the sounds of his

lumbering, cursing progress floated back

to them, then gradually these died away

into the distance and the night was still

again.

Rachel's tense body suddenly relaxed,

and as it did so she knew she was going

to be sick. With a little groan she thrust

herself out of the firelight and retched

violently in the shadows. When the

paroxysm was past, she lay very still

where she was, trembling from head to

foot with reaction. She was dimly aware

that Vitas de Mendoza was kneeling

beside her.

'Please leave me alone,' she pleaded in a

suffocated voice. Being sick was bad

enough without having this man of all

men to witness her weakness.

'Don't be a fool,' he said almost wearily.

'Drink some of this.'

He passed her a slim silver flask.

Another gift from a past
enamorador
?

she wondered, as she removed the

stopper and put the flask to her lips.

Something resembling liquid flame

coursed down her throat and she thrust

the flask away, gasping for breath, but

the

trembling

seemed

to

stop

miraculously, almost at once.

She sat up, reaching for the protective

covering of the blanket, and said in a

stiff little voice, 'Thank you very much.'

'Por Dios!'
He sounded faintly amused.

'What an effort that must have cost you!

Come and sit by the fire and get warm.

At least Carlos attended to the

necessities of life before he tried to rape

you.'

Rachel sat and watched as he added

more wood to the flames and refilled the

coffee pot. She uttered a faint protest as

he began to ladle sugar into the black

steaming brew before handing it to her,

but he ignored her.

'You have had a bad shock,' was all he

said briefly as he put the mug into her

hand.

It was quite true, she thought as she

sipped her coffee obediently. And the

biggest shock of all was his unexpected

arrival.

'How did you know where to find us?'

she asked at last. He had been busying

himself, unsaddling his horse, but now

he was spreading a blanket for himself

on the other side of the fire.

'It wasn't difficult.' He stretched himself

out on it, tipping his hat over his eyes,

and reaching for his own steaming mug.

'I had been following you all day.'

'You'd been following us?' Her voice

rose incredulously. 'But why?'

'You of all people should not need to ask

that,
querida,'
he said lazily. 'Carlos is

well known to me, and there were many

people who saw you together in

Asuncion.'

'I see,' she said, but it wasn't true. She

didn't understand any of it. She

moistened her lips. 'He—he seemed

such a mild little man.' She shivered

again, remembering the wet lips and the

podgy destructive hands.

'A coral snake seems mild enough as it

suns itself on a ledge,' he said drily. 'But

approach it, and you will soon discover

your mistake, and it can be fatal. As it

almost was for you,
querida.
How could

you have been so reckless? Anyone you

asked would have told you the truth

about Carlos, yet you rush into the forest

with a man about whom you know less

than nothing. Are you always such a fool

about men?'

'It was a natural enough mistake,' she

said coldly. 'I needed a guide and he

approached me. I assumed your friend

Ramirez had put him on to me.'

His mouth twisted sardonically. 'Juan

may have his faults, but delivering

defenceless ewe lambs into the jaws of

el tigre
is not among them,' he drawled.

'On the contrary, he thought you were

safely in my—care.'

His slight hesitation before the final

word was not lost on her. For 'care' read

'bed', she thought furiously, the old

antagonism rising up inside her. She

might be forced to be grateful to him, but

that was all. It didn't mean she had to

like him or his macho, male chauvinist

attitude to the female sex.

'How wrong can anyone be?' she

shrugged, trying for sweet irony.

He was lighting one of his long, thin

black cigars, and the look he sent her

was equally ironic, reminding her

wordlessly and without effort of that

long moment in his arms when her body

had wanted more than just his kisses.

Rachel felt the colour rise in her face

and wriggled uncomfortably inside her

sheltering blanket. She hadn't needed that

reminder, or wanted it either. It had just

occurred to her that she might well have

been snatched from the frying pan, only

to be deposited neatly on the hottest part

of the fire. Her assailant had terrified

her, but was she really any safer with

her rescuer?

She passed her tongue round suddenly

dry lips. 'And what now?' she enquired

with a fair attempt at nonchalance.

He gave a slight shrug. 'We get some

rest, and in the morning you start on your

way back to Bogota.'

She sat bolt upright, the blanket slipping

from her shoulders.

'I am not going back to Bogota. I'm going

to Diablo. I've told you—I have to find

my brother.'

He smiled thinly. 'Fortunate brother to

have earned such devotion. But it alters

nothing,
querida.
Diablo is no place for

a woman—especially a naive, gullible

child as you have proved yourself to be.'

'I admit I was mistaken in Carlos,' she

said hotly. 'But I'm hardly likely to be

taken in a second time.'

'No?' He raised his eyebrows. 'Can you

say with any degree of accuracy where

you are at this moment? I doubt it, even

if I gave you the map from my saddle

pack. Carlos may have promised to take

you to Diablo, but he would never risk

his skin near that hell-hole. For at least

the past two hours you have been

travelling away from Diablo, and you

did not even know.'

'But you know where it is,' she said

slowly. 'You could take me there.'

'And what makes you think I would be

willing to risk my skin either?' He drew

deeply on the cigar, watching her above

the cloud of smoke he expelled.

She was taken aback. 'But you're a

guide. Can you afford to pick and choose

the work you take?'

'Sometimes I can. But I'll answer your

question with another,
querida.
Can you

afford to pay the price that I might

require for my services?'

'I don't know,' she said, her brows

puckering. It was an aspect of the

situation she had overlooked. Most of

her ready cash had vanished with the

fleeing Carlos. She would be able to

draw on fresh funds in Bogota, she had

no doubt, but if Vitas de Mendoza

insisted on payment in advance as

Carlos had done, then it would mean the

sort of delay she was anxious to avoid. 'I

—I might not be able to give you all the

money now, but on our return ...' She

broke Off seeing that he was shaking his

head. 'Oh, please, you must listen to

what I have to say! I really need to get to

Diablo as soon as possible. I—I'll pay

you whatever you ask—in time—but I

dare not haggle over money now. You'll

just have to trust me.' She paused again.

'You're laughing at me,' she accused

uncertainly.

'A little, it is true.' He contemplated the

glowing butt of his cigar, then tossed it

into the fire with an impatient gesture. 'I

said you were naive, didn't I,
querida
?

You surely did not imagine I followed

you today simply to save you from a fate