Dateline: Kydd and Rios (7 page)

He zipped his pants, then almost resentfully picked up the paper and snapped it open. Leaning over the nightstand, he underlined the statements he thought could be part of a message, and he felt more like a fool with every stroke of his pen. Until he put them all together.

He wasn’t imagining things. Nikki was sending a message, and she was sending it to him. Slowly he sank down on the bed, the paper spread between his knees. The message spoke of trouble, of need, of a friendship she’d never forgotten, and if he twisted the words ever so slightly, maybe also of love.

He lowered his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. He’d missed her for so long, and now she wanted him back. He shook his head, the hint of a wry smile lifting a corner of his mouth. She sure had lousy timing.

Quico came running back in from the patio, a half a dozen papers in his arms. “I found them all, Josh. Today’s and yesterday’s.”

Josh looked up, then checked his watch. “No time now,
amigo
. Stuff them in my satchel and go ask your mama how much I owe her.”

“You’re leaving?” Disappointment stopped the boy in his tracks.

“ ‘Fraid so. I’ve got a long overdue date with a lady.”

“A woman?” Quico asked, as if that was a most unacceptable reason for leaving a good buddy.

A woman? Josh repeated silently. He didn’t really know. In some ways she’d been old beyond her years, even at seventeen and eighteen, and the night she’d made love with him had transcended any and all boundaries of age or experience. But to leave him without a word? He didn’t know if that had been the act of a frightened girl or a calculating woman. It was time to find out.

The city was coming apart at the seams, seething with revolt and defiance. Fires burned in the barrio, their flames brightening the night sky to the east of the Plaza District. Any day now, Nikki knew the fires would be burning right outside the Paloma Grand Hotel, the smoke blackening the white marble columns and darkening the view from her second floor apartment. The crowds were already spilling into the downtown area, armed with rocks and slogans.

Honking her horn and swearing in short bursts, she maneuvered her Chevy through the throng of people in the street. Three days in the jungle had left her in no mood to do vehicular battle. She was exhausted, emotionally and physically, running on empty in all departments except for an overabundance of nervous energy. Two blocks from the Paloma, she gave up on driving and pulled over to the curb. She’d have to walk.

The moment she stopped, a rock bounced off the hood of the car. She flinched at the thudding sound, feeling her first pang of fear. Damn Delgado for keeping her hanging around Sulaco all day. She should have left the northern village where he was holed up early that morning. She should have been home long before the nightly riots began, but he’d made it clear from the beginning that if she wanted to deal with him, it would be on his terms and on his schedule. He had a country to claim.

Without any facts to back her up, and despite his gratitude for her warning phone call, she’d had a difficult time convincing him that it was in his best interest to make sure nothing happened to Joshua Rios. But she’d done it. She had all of her players in place: her mother on the brink of freedom; Travinas pacing his office day in and day out, waiting for word of Josh’s arrival; and Delgado ready to use his men to cover the supposed hostage exchange and ensure everyone’s safety. The only player missing was Josh. Her week-long attempts to contact him through his newspaper had resulted in nothing. No one knew where he was, but neither had there been any news of his death.

Nikki reached over to the passenger seat and slipped the strap of her duffel bag over her shoulder. She sat for a moment, eyeing the moving crowd and waiting for a break. When it came, she got out of the car and was immediately swept into the mass of shouting humanity.

* * *

Josh stood in the shadows at the south end of the Paloma’s entrance. For two days he’d been watching the hotel, calling her apartment, and keeping a low profile, all the while fighting the sinking feeling that he was too late. If she didn’t show up that night, he’d have to blow his cover and start some serious looking. He didn’t dare wait any longer if she was in trouble, because nobody he’d ever met knew more about getting into trouble than Nikki Kydd.

The crowd pressed up to the hotel’s portico, and he had to struggle to hold his ground. Someone stepped on his foot. Another man fell against his back. Josh swore at each accidental assault, but when a sharp elbow caught him in the side, he reacted instinctively, grabbing the thin arm and wrenching it backward. Only the man’s stricken face kept him from perpetrating his own accident and breaking the bone.

With a muttered curse, he released the man into the receding crowd. His nerves were raw from waiting and worrying. He reached inside his satchel and pulled a cheroot out of a thin metal case, a habit he’d picked up the last time he’d been looking for her. He struck a match on the stone wall at his back.

Inhaling deeply, he returned his gaze to the hotel entrance, then searched the street. The cloud of smoke caused him to squint, impairing his vision for a moment, but when it cleared he saw her. His cupped hands still in front of him; his breath caught in his throat.

Nikki
. . . Her name whispered across his mind. Feelings he thought he had controlled welled up inside him, sharper and more painful than his memories. Not taking his eyes off her, he drew in a slow, deep breath. He should have come back for her a long time ago, a long, long time ago.

The match burned down to his fingers, and with a soft curse, he dropped it on the ground. When he looked up, she had disappeared.

“Dammit,” he muttered, throwing down the cheroot and plunging into the mob.

Nikki stumbled along with the crowd, getting jostled and jolted. If she didn’t come up with a quick move soon, she’d end up in front of the palace or, more likely, in front of a barricade of riot-control troops—and those were the up-side possibilities. On the down side, she could end up trampled to death.

In the way of unruly masses, the mob heaved to the right, bringing her closer to the Paloma. Nikki made her break, shoving through the cordon of men surrounding her, and was shoved right back. A blow to her shoulder made her grimace with pain. She tightened her mouth and kept pushing. Suddenly a hand circled her wrist and jerked her sideways. She stumbled, but the hand kept her from falling, and the relentless grip kept her moving toward the Paloma, pulling her ever closer to the tall man making an opening through the crowd. In seconds she was under the protection of his arm.

She held her duffel close to her chest and wrapped her other hand around the man’s belt, clinging to her free ride. His long, powerful legs strode forcefully forward. She matched her steps to his, stretching her own stride, feeling his thigh moving against hers and his heavy boots coming down next to her tennis shoes.

Half a minute later, he’d accomplished the impossible. He’d gotten her free of the worst of the crowd. She glanced up with words of gratitude on her lips, but they died instantly, replaced by a gasp of disbelief.

Josh looked down at her, a small grin twisting his mouth despite his grim expression. His arm tightened around her shoulders as he fought their way back toward the Paloma, pushing through the yelling, shoving men. At the side entrance to the hotel’s garden courtyard, he ducked under an iron-grilled archway and swept her around in his arms, so her back was against the high adobe wall.

The sounds of the riot faded to a rumbling backdrop, softened by the intensity of his gaze. He stared at her for a long moment, towering over her, his chest heaving as hard as her own. Then he cupped her face in his hands and slowly lowered his forehead to rest on hers. He held her, his thumbs tracing the contours of her cheeks.

A thousand emotions collided in her heart as her eyes drifted closed. Only the wall and his touch kept her knees from buckling with shock. Their breath mingled in soft gasps for air. He’d come back to her. Against the odds, he’d evaded Brazia’s deadly grasp and returned to her. The last of her nervous energy drained out of her with the weakness of relief.

Josh felt her shuddering sigh in the pressure of her breasts rising against his chest. Her skin was soft, and damp from the humid air, her hair a mass of tangled silk around his fingers. He’d missed her. Lord, how he’d missed her. Without a word he tilted her head back and let his mouth slide down to hers, teasing his memories of love back to life.

The sweet invasion stole her last coherent thought, left her helpless, caught in a trap of unexpected tenderness. Her hands met at the back of his neck, her fingers tunneling through the hair lying across his collar. He groaned and pressed her harder against the garden wall.

The overpowering strength of him swept her further from reality. She clung to him out of need. He’d come back to her as a lover, not as a friend, and until that moment she hadn’t realized how desperately she needed both. She had been alone so long.

“Nikki, Nikki,” he whispered, kissing the side of her nose, the corners of her lips. Then he slipped his tongue inside her mouth to taste the rich sweetness that was hers alone.

He’d made a mistake. Josh knew that the instant her lips parted and sent a shaft of desire spiraling through his body. The longing for her had been pent up for too many years, through too many sleepless nights. His hands slid down to her breasts, then back up under her arms, lifting her higher against him. He wanted everything she had to give, everything she’d given him once—the mindless passion, the complete forgetting of self and the finding of each other. He wanted to discover the woman inside the girl he’d loved.

He wanted to unbutton her shirt and slip his hand inside. But now was not the time, and the Paloma garden wasn’t a safe place to linger, not with her body and her every touch distracting him beyond reason. Reluctantly, he tore his mouth away, ending the kiss with a soft groan.

“Dammit, Nikki.” His voice broke with concern, and he lifted his hands to her shoulders. “What were you doing out there? Trying to make the front page with an obituary?”

“No,” she whispered, barely making a sound, her heart beating wildly against his.

“Where have you been? I’ve been here for two days, trying to avoid half the San Simeon National Security Force. The hotel is crawling with NSF cops. Why?”

Confusion clouded her eyes. “The Paloma is being watched?” Breathlessly she parted her lips and slid her hands down to rest against his chest, straining his control.

He removed his hands from her shoulders and braced himself against the adobe wall, forcing himself not to reach for her again. “Around the clock. Four men on every shift. Answer my other questions.” He had to know what was going on before he made another move.

“I’ve been in Sulaco, and I . . . I don’t know,” she answered. Yes, she thought, he had kissed her, but it hadn’t taken him long to get down to business. She didn’t know what to make of the lightning-fast change, but she knew her lips were still warm from his mouth. She knew every time his heart beat beneath her palm.

“Did I miss something in the message?” he asked. “Was I supposed to meet you in Sulaco?

“No, I—” She stumbled in midthought, unsure of what to say next.

“Then why were you there?”

“A . . . a man,” she stammered.

He said something obscene, glancing away. His eyes came back to her, darkened by the night and the unmistakable anger suddenly hardening his voice. “That’s a hell of an answer, Nikki. What kind of man? Your lover?”

Lover? What was he talking about? Her confusion increased, and she lowered her gaze to the ground. She needed a minute, just a minute, to catch her breath, to believe he was really there, to figure out what was going on with his rapid-fire interrogation. Lord, she wished he hadn’t kissed her like that. It made everything so much more complicated.

Josh didn’t miss the evasive glance, and it did little to lighten his mood. He’d thought about her taking another lover too many times not to believe it now. The idea had prompted more than one drunken binge that first year, and a few since. She’d been his, and he’d thrown her away.

Damn her for asking him there for half a reason—and damn himself for believing there was more. He pushed away from the wall, putting some distance between them. “Do they still leave the back door to this place unlocked?” He wouldn’t be making any more mistakes.

“Yes,” she said weakly, trying not to reach for him again, to reassure herself of his presence. For a moment she’d felt safe in his arms, the only moment of security she’d had in many days.

“Then let’s get inside where we can talk. I think you’ve got a helluva lot of explaining to do.” He grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her behind him, barely controlling his anger. The woman had a lot of nerve asking him there when she had another lover. Too much nerve for even the infamous Nikki Kydd to get away with.

Given no choice, Nikki ran with him, following him deeper into the garden. Palm trees and hibiscus crowded together in the narrow alley leading from the street to the lushly overgrown grounds nestled between the wings of the hotel. He didn’t slow his pace when they entered the courtyard, but he did veer off the path, skirting the flowering hedge. Close to the rear entrance, he stopped and crouched down, pulling her with him.

“Did you tell anybody I was coming back to San Simeon?” he asked even before she regained her balance.