Thunder in the Night (Crimson Romance) (3 page)

Chapter Four

I fingered my last silver token, blew on it for luck, and then dropped it into the slot machine. A whoop went up from my neighbors when bells rang, lights flashed, and what seemed like hundreds of tokens poured out. A big win, it sent my spirits soaring and I jumped up and down. Laughing, I turned to the trekkers around me, accepting their hugs and claps on the back.

“That’s it for me,” I announced, sweeping up my winnings. “Quittin’ while I’m ahead.”

“You can’t do that. You’re on a roll,” Alan, a math teacher on his third zoo trek, urged.

“Yeah, quite a roll, too!” his wife, Maria, echoed.

The room was full — full of people, full of noise, full of color as everyone paraded their resort wear. Tourists made up most of the gathering, but there were plenty of native sons and daughters trying their luck in the casino, too. Tables ringed the outside of the room, surrounding the rows of machines like wagons around the campfire.

Jen’s table was the noisiest one, drawing the youngest people on the trip and featuring bursts of laughter at regular intervals. I wondered what could be that funny, wishing I’d been in on the start of the jokes. I’d hoped to get a chance to speak with her somewhere quiet but that definitely wasn’t here.

Across the room, Dan and Clark sat beside each other, not speaking. Each man studied the cards he held as if the future of western civilization depended on his next move. Dan’s pile of chips was larger than Clark’s, I noticed. Was Dan a better player or just lucky? Was Clark losing to a big benefactor on purpose? Could you even do that, playing cards?

Off in a corner, Mart was deep in conversation with a woman I couldn’t identify. Admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the bulge of his biceps beneath the fine knit of his shirt, I let my eyes trail down him in lazy inspection. Lean hips, long legs. I swept my gaze up again. Hair still damp from the shower, he was smiling now, then laughing at his companion’s remark. In one hand, Mart held a glass of something amber. The other hand clasped the woman’s narrow waist as he leaned close to whisper in her ear. His grasp made creases in the fine silk of her vibrant blue sari. When she tipped her head, her long cascade of smooth black hair fell off to one side. From my vantage point, I could see the intimacy of their body language, feel the crackle in the air between them.

Mart was a fast mover. We’d only checked in a few hours ago and already he’d made a conquest. Of course, just as I figured Clark knew people in Belize from his travels, the same could be true of Mart. Old friend. No, old lover. Obviously.

When I heard my name, I blinked, coming out of my brown study. The three young women I’d mentally dubbed the career girls stood in a cluster behind me. Twenty-somethings, they all wore variations on a sundress similar to my own, colorful jewelry, and tousled long hair. Each held a glass, half full or half empty, depending.

“We’re heading to the roulette wheel and we thought we’d ask you to join us for a while,” one of the girls said.

“Thanks. Sounds great.” As we headed that way, I glanced to where I’d seen Mart and the woman, but they were gone.

For the next half hour or more the four of us lined the table, watching fortunes rise and fall. Faith, the woman who Mart had warned at the waterfront earlier, was a serious-looking redhead who would have a serious hangover come morning. Kiran was a brunette with full cheeks and deep dimples. They worked together at the biggest corporation in town, Patty, the dark-haired one, explained when I asked.

“Usually, we just go flop on the beach in Mexico for a week,” Kiran told me. “Maybe meet some guys.”

“But we sure don’t have to worry about that on this trip,” Patty said, with a groan. “What’s the male-female ratio here? Like one to two?”

“That’s what we get for doing something educational!” Kiran laughed.

“Yeah, educational,” Faith said, knocking back the last of her drink. There was the just slightest hint of a slur in the word.

“I hear there’s a cabaret,” Patty said. “Let’s go see.”

I stifled a yawn. The day had been long and all I really wanted was sleep. Sound sleep, preferably, for a full eight hours.

“Maybe tomorrow night,” I begged off, knowing I still wanted to make some notes on our journey before hitting the hay.

“Oh, c’mon,” Kiran groaned, taking my arm and tugging. “Just for half an hour.”

She led us to a table up near the stage and alongside the dance floor. Glancing at the crowd, I saw some trekkers gyrating to the music. Onstage, a five-piece band played while several young women in feathery costumes danced among them.

When the song crashed to a halt, I clapped and peeked at my watch. I really needed to update those notes for my first article and get to bed.

“I think I’m going to — ” I began then stopped.

The guitarist was introducing a singer. The long black hair and peacock blue gown of the woman approaching the microphone were familiar. She was Mart’s companion.

“So, give it up for Ishani!”

With a grace I could only envy, Ishani acknowledged the applause of the audience, stepped forward, and opened her mouth. The song she sang was slow and romantic, emphasizing the rich alto of her voice. Her eyes swept over her listeners, drawing them into the song of love lost and found. One elegant hand lifted, she smiled down at the table nearest the stage. Mart sat rapt, his head tipped up to watch. He raised his drink in salute.

“Wow, she should record a CD,” Faith said as the song ended.

The dance floor began to fill again as the band segued into a mix of popular songs. I joined in and soon spotted Sylvia Webster, in an eye-catching graphic print mini, dancing with the professor. Mart, working the crowd now, was with Maria.

At the end of the medley my second wind propelled me to the bar for something cold to drink.

“What’s your pleasure?” Mart asked, joining me.

He placed our orders and we leaned against the bar, watching the others. I tapped my purse against my leg in time to the music.

“Ishani has a beautiful voice,” I told Mart. “Faith thinks she should record an album.”

Mart smiled, nodding. “I’ve told her that, too, but she wants to focus on her work. Singing’s just her hobby.” Looking over the crowd, he asked, “Wanna dance?”

Ishani was at the microphone again. The music had changed to something slower and the lights dimmed accordingly.

“Sure.”

I let him lead me the few steps to the floor and moved into the circle of his arms. His hand at my back felt warm through the thin material of my dress. Mart hummed along to the song, his breath tickling the top of my ear in a provocative way.

Closing my eyes, I followed his movements without effort. Up close, he smelled faintly of coconut. Up close, his eyes were more green than hazel. Up close, I could see a little white scar on the bridge of his nose. I gave a sigh of pleasure.

“You’re a great dancer.”

He tipped his head. “Thank you. I’ll pass the compliment on to Mom. She paid for the lessons, way back when.” Showing off, he gave me a spin then tucked me in close. “Graduated top of my class.”

I laughed out loud then had to stifle a yawn.

“And now I’m boring you,” Mart teased.

“Not at all. It’s just been a busy day.”

“Wait until tomorrow. We’re touring the ruins at Tikal. Then on Wednesday, after the early morning nature walk, you can go snorkeling. Or there’s tubing on the river. And some caves to explore.”

“Whew! Sounds exhausting. It’ll make for some great articles, though, and that’s what matters.”

Mart gave me a thoughtful look. “What brings you to our humble zoo trek when you could be covering some art gallery opening or fancy society wedding?”

I wrinkled my nose and looked off over his shoulder. There had been plenty of those in the last few weeks. “I’m climbing my way back to real news. I hope.”

Mart spun me out again, turned another circle. “You hope?”

“Fervently. I want to report on important stories. I want to investigate issues, put them on the front page.” I was talking too much, I knew, but I couldn’t seem to stop. “I want my work to matter!”

“Music to my ears,” Mart said. “Why do you have to climb back?”

My sigh was long and deep. “I was low man — or woman — on my last job. When the staff cuts came, out I went.” I shrugged in dismissal.

Mart waited a second, two. “That can’t have been easy.”

“No.”

The tune came to an end. Mart released me and I smiled.

“Thanks for the dance. It was lovely.”

“You’re welcome. I have to say, I’m glad you lost your old job,” he said. “Because now Rochester has you.” He gave my hand a squeeze, ran his thumb over my fingers.

“If I do a bang up job with this trip, Rochester could have me for quite a while.”

Mart hesitated, seeming to choose his next words with care. “This could be a very important story, if you ask me.”

“Oh?”

“Sure, depending on your angle. It’s all in the angle.”

I yawned again behind my hand then apologized. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you, it’s the hour. Can we talk more about this, when you have time?”

Mart nodded. “It’s a long ride to Tikal. Maybe then.”

“Yes, then. And now, goodnight.”

Mart lifted a hand in farewell.

In the elevator, I leaned against the back wall and watched the doors slowly close, reflecting me in their mirrored surface. I looked as tired as I felt, but at least my hair was still tidy in its chignon and my dress hadn’t wrinkled too much in my suitcase. I closed my eyes, still feeling Mart’s arm around me, still smelling his scent.

Too bad about the girlfriend,
I thought sleepily.

The elevator doors opened to take on another passenger. I stood up straighter when I saw Clark, sans Sylvia. He was looking down, frowning and reading a text on his cell phone, so he didn’t see me at first. When he did, he made a move to pocket the phone, but missed. It slid across the floor of the small space, landing squarely up against my right ankle.

He bent to retrieve his phone then hesitated. He could hardly reach for it there himself.

“I’ll get it,” I said.

The cell phone had settled face up, so I could see the text message he’d been reading. I didn’t really mean to read it, but put words in front of my eyes and it’s hard not to.

The message said:

Thursday’s shipment — twenty five airborne, thirteen grounded. Delay arrival. Uncle visiting.

I frowned. What could that mean? Shipment of what? Whose uncle?

Quickly, before Clark could think I’d read his mail, I handed the phone back and smiled.

In a minute, in my room, I’d write those sentences down and puzzle over them.

“I heard about your big win at the slots tonight,” he said, taking the phone I handed to him. “Nice way to start your vacation.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Very cool.”

I noticed a ruddy tone to his cheeks. Sunburn, perhaps, or the result of too many drinks in too little time. He led the way off the elevator when it reached the third floor, lifting a hand by way of farewell.

Slipping my room card from my purse, I mentally recited the odd message from his phone then jotted it down on the hotel notepad almost before I turned on the lights in my room.

After a quick, warm shower, I sat on the bed with my cotton nightgown tucked around my feet, braiding my damp hair and reading. The message was a mystery. From the look on Clark’s face, it had not been good news, but it was all Greek to me. Eventually, I filed the slip of paper away and spent a few minutes looking over our itinerary for the next day. Then, I made notes for my first blog entry and sent the pictures from my camera to my online account. I wanted every megabyte available to me tomorrow, at the ruins. And, if I were being honest, I didn’t want anyone else to see the shots of Clark in the parking lot. Dan may or may not have already. Jen definitely had.

The photos probably didn’t mean anything sinister. Maybe Clark was just paying off a taxi, or arranging for one later. Later, when he wasn’t along on our trip to the sanctuary.

The ding of the elevator sounded faintly from down the hall. I could hear the low drone of two people talking, their voices growing more distinct as they approached. From the room next to mine came the muffled closing of a door. One male voice, one female, laughing now.

My mind instantly conjured up an image of Mart and that woman. Could it be? I wondered then shook my head. None of my business, that’s what that was!

Snapping off the light, I settled back against the pillows. The hum of conversation continued faintly from next door, but within minutes, I was dead to the world and dreaming. Dreaming of placid pools of water where crocodiles swam just beneath the surface and monkeys shouted from the trees along the bank and Dan Underwood said, “Young men sometimes do foolish things.”

Chapter Five

The dining room was a hubbub of excitement when I arrived there early the next morning and looked for an empty seat.

Breakfast was served smorgasbord-style and several folks passed me with laden plates as I ambled along, my eyes sweeping left and right. I was just about to give up and eat leaning against a wall when I spotted Mart tucked at a tiny table off in one corner. He had dishes spread all around him, like everyone else, and was concentrating on a stack of papers.

The chair across from him was vacant and inviting. If he was hard at work, preparing his speech on the rain forest, say, I could just sit silently and read my guidebook. I marched over.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” I inquired, lowering my backpack onto the chair.

He looked up, a scowl creasing his forehead. In an instant, though, it cleared away. “Oh, hi, Allison. Go ahead. I’ll clear some of these dishes away.”

He stacked some plates and gave them a shove off to one side. “There.”

“Thanks.” Glancing over at the buffet, I realized I hadn’t eaten in ages.

I’d only taken a few steps in that direction when Mart’s voice called out. “Wait a minute!” When I turned, he smiled, his cheeks dimpling in quite an attractive way. “Would you please bring me a few more slices of fruit?”