Songs for Perri (31 page)

"No." She could barely get the word out...her voice grated like a sick old woman's. Her body was beginning to shake with the rapid vibrating actions of the quaking aspen. Her heart continued to beat so loudly she could hardly hear. All had happened so fast...from life to death.

Getting unsteadily to her feet, Perri noticed the flies already beginning to gather around the pool of blood next to Alvaro. It was too much. She turned away and threw up.

Joe supported her from behind, his arms strong and steadying. "It all right, my darling," he consoled her, and in his concern he switched to Hugo's voice. "It's all over now. What needed to be done has been done."

When she was through, she turned to face him, ready to be brave, but from this angle she saw the reason why they had come up this particular road.

A gravel quarry, its straight sides and water-covered bottom making an effective death-trap. That was to have been the "accident."

"He...we...," she muttered incoherently, as the horror of it hit her. "He was going to put us—” Her finger pointed out what she could not say.

"Don't think about it," Joe urged.

But Perri walked over to the rim and looked steadily down into the quiet surface of slate-gray water. What other deadly secrets did it hold? "I wonder. Have they used this place before?"

Vaguely she realized that after climbing out on an outrigger, falling from a window and getting shot at, heights didn't bother her anymore. How far she was off the ground no longer held any terror. She had been there—and lived.

Joe stood by her side, his hand resting on her trembling form. A movement behind, and Walt arrived on the other side of her, looking down.

"We might notify the Mexicans to take a look if they want to," Joe suggested.

"How deep is it?" Perri wondered, and Joe stooped to pick up a rock. As he bent down, he staggered suddenly; lurched and fell forward. Towards the edge.

The report of the shot was followed closely by another.

Reacting without thought, Perri grabbed Joe's belt and a handful of shirt and threw herself backward, yanking him with her.

He rolled over, further away from the edge, then moved sideways, helping her towards a series of basket-ball sized boulders.

Another bullet zinged by. He fired, underhand, at the kneeling form of the Scorpion, then knocked Perri roughly to the ground, dropping on top of her. She hit face-first, filling mouth and nose with dry Mexican dirt as the bullets echoed around them.

Joe fired again, then once more. He had placed his body between her and the Scorpion. "You okay?" he asked, shifting his weight off when there was no more returning shots.

"Yes." Maybe. Something was warm and wet on her back. Could she have been grazed and not know it?

Walt was lying behind a boulder a few feet away. "You hit?" Joe asked.

"No."

"He's a hard man to put down."

"So was Alvaro," Walt replied. "I trusted him...thought him a good friend and zealous anti-communist when I worked with him. I can't blame Owen for falling for the same line."

They all stayed down, behind the spare cover of the scattered rocks. Perri wasn't about to move, and she noticed that neither Walt nor Joe were raising their heads for a closer look.

Walt spoke again, in reflection. "I thought I had killed him fifteen years ago. If he had come into our country, he'd have done a great deal of damage."

"You didn't recognize his picture?"

"No. He's changed. But his eyes...as soon as I saw his eyes fully, I knew. He kept them averted the first part of our trip...never looked at me. Once he did...but that was the chance he couldn't take. Hence he had to kill me before he got to the U.S."

"I see."

"Thanks for saving my life," Joe said, turning to Perri, the warm glow of appreciation easy to see. "I owe you."

"No, you don't. I still owed you for rescuing me from the kidnappers."

"And dropping you out the window?"

She smiled warmly at him. Those events seemed ages ago. "That too."

"Then we're even."

"How did you get a gun?" Perri asked, for she had seen Viktor search him.

"Owen had it stored in a tube under the wheel well. He showed it to me Saturday night. The drug-runner had fixed several hiding places for weapons on this car."

"And Walt?"

"He had an ankle gun. When he shot Alvaro it distracted Viktor. I grabbed the one Owen had hidden. It's little, but effective."

A car engine started, alerting them. "He's not getting away now," Joe muttered, rolling to a crouching position. He fired into the driver's area, then into the near front tire.

It was the Scorpion's car. The auto roared, swung wildly. Charged at them like a raging bull.

"Look out," Walt yelled, and flung himself behind a larger boulder. Perri, not too frightened to scramble out of the way, took several lunging steps and dove into a small ditch that marked a water course during the rains.

Joe fired twice more, standing, as the car roared closer. At the last minute, he threw himself out of the way.

The Scorpion's vehicle shot past him and plunged headlong into the quarry. It sunk immediately, its roaring engine stilled.

Once again the slate gray surface was ghostly still. As a mark of their caution, they waited a full ten minutes before beginning to relax.

The Scorpion was finally gone.

Alvaro's body was also gone. Heel marks showed where Viktor had pulled him into the car.

"Why?" Perri wondered. "He wasn't alive. I'm fairly sure of that."

"They weren't supposed to be here," Joe answered. "Their government wouldn't want it known. Viktor was probably under orders to dispose of any bodies created by his activities...if he couldn't make it look accidental."

"But...the quarry?" Perri shuddered. "Did he purposely drive in?"

"No. My shots hit him...and the tire. It pulled the car this way. He probably didn't have the strength or time to straighten it."

"You're hit," Walt said, and Perri gasped as she saw the red stain soaking the back of Joe's shirt.

Joe looked down, surprised. "So I am."

Walt ran over to open the trunk of their car, pulling out a first-aid kit. While Joe sat on a near-by boulder, Perri carefully tugged out his blood-soaked shirttail.

The Scorpion's bullet had burned a diagonal furrow part of the way across his back and a tunnel through the flesh of his arm.

Bandaged carefully, Joe reclined as best he could in the back seat with Perri cradling his head and upper body. Walt drove slowly to the main road, then sent them speeding up the highway with concentrated effort, intent on reaching the next town.

Beads of sweat formed on Joe's brow, and Perri wiped them away. "Does it hurt much?" she asked, aching with sympathetic pain.

"Like the devil. Sometimes a flesh wound is more painful than one that goes in one side and out the other."

"You speak from experience, of course."

"Of course." He still had his shirt off and puckered blue scars could be seen at random spots on his body — now a sickening shade of yellow and purple from Thursday night's beating.

"Ugly, aren't I? I've got more...you can't see."

"I don't think you're ugly. I thought Joe was handsome the moment I met him...and Nolan's pretty super too."

"How about Hugo?" he asked fervently, his eyes begging her to be truthful. His left hand gripped hers tightly.

She looked beyond him, out the window, at the barren land. What should she say? That she loved him more than her own life?

That when the Scorpion had been shooting at him, she'd taken a gun and shot with no thought for her own safety—because she was thinking only of him?

That no matter what job he had, she wanted to be with him—always; offering whatever love and support she could give?

Should she say that?

"Perri...please...!" he begged, his voice quieter than a whisper...and even more compelling. "What about...Hugo?"

"Wasn't Hugo an act?" she demanded, protecting her heart from being hurt anymore.

"Hugo's the truth. Joe...Joe's fiction. Walt made him up."

"Walt has a lot to answer for," she exclaimed bitterly, "ordering you to act like you were falling for me—”

"Ah..." Sudden understanding flashed through the gray eyes, overpowering the pain for a second. "I see.... He told you...."

His hand gripped hers harder, hurting her with his intensity. "I was supposed to act like I was falling in love with you, but that was no act. The hardest thing for me was to remember which one of me was not supposed to be falling for you. And I hated lying to you. I love you. You have to believe me, Perri. That was no act!"

No act. The burden of sorrow she had been carrying lifted magically; the love she'd repressed claimed its freedom.

"Perri. Please...! Say something."

"I love you." She smiled. "I love you, Joe, Hugo, Nolan. Donegal."

"Ah...." He sighed heavily, a shining smile of unleashed happiness easing the tension around his mouth. "That's what I wanted to hear."

"All of you?"

"Hugo. Hugo's the one who counts." His voice was stronger, his strength renewed with hope.

"Hugo's the one I fell in love with, first. Which was unlikely, because I couldn't stand his cocky ways; then, as he took over, he took my heart, too. Now Donegal...he will take a little getting used to."

"I have trouble doing Donegal. If he wasn't such a perfect cover, I'd bag him. He was invented to investigate a theatrical agent who used the music business as a pipeline. Trouble is, Donegal became a success. I had to keep him. He was a good cover. Plus, he's made me quite a fortune; enough to buy and stock my ranch." His voice dropped in confidence. "But Hugo will buy you a wedding ring out of his own money...earned on those long dangerous trips through Africa and South America."

"How many more trips—” Perri began, worriedly; stopping when Joe laid his finger on her lips.

"I vowed I'd quit going on missions when I found someone I loved enough to die for. I didn't think it possible at the time."

Smiling with a radiance that illuminated her face, Perri drew one finger across his brow and kissed him gently. "Don't you dare die."

He grinned at that, clasping her hands tightly. "I wouldn't dare. Not when I've finally found the reason to live."

He dropped into a restless sleep, his body wet with sweat, his wound still bleeding enough to cause Perri alarm when she saw the amount of blood seeping from it.

Was he worse or better?

She had never had to nurse an injured man; she didn't know what to expect. Arms aching, she cradled him against the jostling of the journey.

He slept for over half an hour and Perri, imagining all the possibilities, from death to life, suffered silently...and learned how much she truly loved him.

His eyes flicked open without warning. "I'm thirsty," he croaked, and she kissed his parched lips in relief.

"That's super nice," he managed to quip, his voice hoarse, "but I still need...a drink...of water."

She helped him shift enough so she could pull out the huge plastic water bottle they had brought with them, then tipped out a cupful.

He couldn't hold it steady without her help, asking for a second and third; then sighed and rested back against her. His head lay heavy on her breasts; a welcome weight, and she cradled him softly to her.

"Now you know...all my secrets, love; I guess I'm going to...going to have to marry you. I don’t ever want to have to lie to you again." He had dropped into Hugo's voice again. It was probably his natural one. Its lovely tones thrilled her, and she kissed him again out of the over-bounding joy of her love.

"All your secrets? That's not true. I still don't know your real name. Is it Hugo? Or Joe or Nolan? Or something else?" If she was going to marry him, she should at least know his name.

"Hugo."

"Good. That's the way I think of you. Hugo Brandt. Mrs. Hugo Brandt." She tried it on for size and smiled dreamily down at him. "Perri Brandt. Sounds okay. I like it."

"You're still not...quite right," he corrected her. His words came slowly, as if he needed strength for each one. "Mrs. Hugo Brandt Donnelson. You'll be Perri Donnelson. Is that still okay?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "That's your name? For absolute certainly sure?"

He smiled crookedly against the pain. "The one I was born with."

"Hugo Donnelson. So you're the Hugo who gave Mom the pendant."

"That's right. She used to bemoan the fact..." he paused to take a breath, "...that our paths never crossed."

"Well, they crossed. Finally. Mom would be happy."

"So will Walt. He's claimed me...as a son...for a long time." He tugged lightly at her pendant, and she leaned forward, giving him the kiss he sought. It was like the water; he wanted more...and she gave generously, loving this wonderful, exciting, complex man who had already given so much of himself to her and those she loved.

"Mmmm," he said. "On a scale of one to ten, those are definitely tens."

She gave him some more, topping the scale, until they had to pause. The joy on his face was reflected on hers, a super-charged grin that wouldn't stop, a glow of light-shattering radiance.

"How much of what you told me is true?" Perri demanded. "About your parents and all?"

"Everything."

"And you love me?"

"I love you, Perri Donnelson," he vowed. "I always will."

THE END

Thank you for reading
“A Song for Perri.”
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