Sooner or Later (11 page)

As Marcie sat at an elegant
linen-covered table next to Johnny, the irony didn’t escape her. This was their first real date, yet they’d been enthusiastic lovers for almost two years. They’d shared fabulous sex, good times, and fast-food meals, but they’d never gone out. Not in the traditional sense.

Occasionally Johnny brought her gifts, inexpensive baubles and trinkets, as a means of thanking her. Of paying her, she realized sadly, reluctantly. Until recently she’d never looked upon his presents as payment, but it was long past time to be honest.

The stuffed teddy bear Clifford had brought her represented the first time a man had ever given her anything without her sleeping with him first.

Up to this point ninety-five percent of her communication with Johnny had taken place between silk sheets. She knew very little about him and his life. He
was a physical man with physical needs, and those needs had dominated each brief rendezvous.

Although she’d agreed to this dinner date, she wasn’t sure that she was doing the right thing. Because she felt guilty, she’d casually mentioned the outing to Clifford, making light of it. An old friend, in town for a day or two. Hoped he didn’t mind.

Sometimes it was difficult to know what Clifford actually thought about things. His one failing, if she could call it that, was his interminable politeness.

While Marcie was certain he wasn’t pleased, Clifford had chivalrously told her to have her dinner with Johnny and to enjoy herself. He’d be talking to her again soon. The conversation had ended with that.

“Have you decided what you’d like to order?” Johnny asked, setting aside his menu.

Marcie couldn’t believe the prices. A single meal at the Cattleman’s would pay for her weekly supply of groceries. “The small filet?” she said questioningly.

He grinned broadly, as if she’d made the only intelligent choice on the entire menu.

It surprised Marcie how nervous she was. Not because she was with Johnny; he was an easy person to talk to, when they took time to talk. But she wasn’t accustomed to sitting in an ultrafancy restaurant where the waiters wore tuxedos. Nor had she eaten anyplace where the flatware comprised more than two spoons.

“Did you have any problems explaining our date to Clifford?” he asked as if he were sincerely concerned.

“Clifford’s not the jealous type.”

Johnny reached for the wine menu. “He sounds like a decent sort.”

“He’s very good to me.” Better than anyone.

The waiter arrived, and in gentlemanly fashion, Johnny ordered for her and then requested a bottle of expensive French wine, a Bordeaux.

As the meal progressed they chatted comfortably. Generally when a man asked her out, Marcie was subjected to a long, self-serving monologue. At times she’d wonder if these men feared that she didn’t have a brain, or an opinion. In the end she’d decided that they were afraid of what she’d say. They came to her, she suspected, to recover from the weenie roasting they’d suffered at the hands of the feminists.

The men in Marcie’s illustrious dating career endlessly touted themselves in an attempt to impress her, to reveal how fascinating or intelligent or wonderful they were. Mostly what they really wanted was to get her into the sack as quickly as possible with the least amount of fuss and prove what a magnificent lover they were. And often weren’t.

By the time she’d reached her late twenties, Marcie had learned a lot about the dating scene. She realized that single men often felt an unmarried woman her age was desperate to find a husband. While it was true Marcie wanted a husband and children, her standards were higher than just any man with a pair of sperm-producing testicles. She longed for companionship, shared goals, and the dirtiest word of all. One that caused fearless men to run screaming into the night. Commitment.

Marcie didn’t need the wine to relax. By the time
the steaks arrived, she was as happy as she could ever remember. Johnny was both intelligent and generous.

In comparison, Clifford, dear, dear Clifford, seemed stodgy and a little dull. His idea of a fun evening was a night at the movies and a shared bucket of popcorn. Clifford was the salt of the earth, and Johnny was the spice of life. Unfortunately her diet had been bland for a long time, and she was ready for a taste of cayenne.

Marcie had known the minute Johnny walked into her beauty salon that she wanted him, but until their dinner date she hadn’t realized how much.

Subtly he altered the course of their conversation, reminding her of how fabulous the lovemaking had always been between them. His deep blue eyes sparkled with devilment as he continued to speak of the raw excitement they’d experienced in each other.

His voice was low and seductive, coaxing. Marcie felt as if she were slowly being drawn into a vortex, trapped in the memories. Soon she was a willing, eager victim, adding her own remembrances.

His eyes bored into hers relentlessly as he regarded her with a look of wonder, as though she were the only woman alive with which he’d shared this incredible marvel.

Marcie battled the fluttery beat of her heart. Johnny slowly extended his arm to her and opened his hand. His meaning was unmistakable. He wanted her. Needed her. Was going crazy without her.

Marcie experienced a bevy of contradictory feelings. She’d come so far, learned so much; but then Johnny had always made her weak.

“Marcie…” Her name was a soft plea that fell from his lips. A way of saying he’d go mad without her. Marcie needed to be needed, wanted to be wanted.

Her love, her body, would ease his pain, would heal his suffering, would soothe away his troubles. He’d come to her. Only her.

In the morning, she reminded herself, she’d feel like a fool, used and abused. But the promise of pleasure outweighed any threat of remorse.

Slowly she placed her hand in his. Johnny closed his eyes and sighed, as though his relief and gratitude were great. Clasping his fingers around hers, he carried her hand under the table. With his eyes holding hers prisoner, he pressed her palm against the hard bulge in his crotch and grinned.

The oxygen fled her lungs as she flexed her long nails over the strength of his erection.

Johnny heightened the anticipation for them both by insisting upon dessert, then coffee, lingering over each. His eyes filled with promise, he paid the bill and left a generous tip.

By the time the valet had brought around the car, Marcie was breathless with anticipation. The only indication Johnny gave that he was as eager for her was the speed with which he drove back to her apartment.

Neither spoke.

Marcie didn’t make the pretense of inviting him inside for coffee, and he didn’t ask. He parked the car, got out, and followed her to her front door.

The minute they were inside, he turned her into his arms. Their first kisses were filled with hot urgency.
He ravaged her mouth until she had to break away in order to breathe. Soon, however, the blistering, sweet fire altered as the fierce edge of their hunger abated.

His mouth and hands were unbelievably erotic as he explored her body, familiarizing himself with her breasts, hips, buttocks. He removed her sweater and bra, then sucked greedily from each of her nipples while lowering the zipper to her skirt. He was like a boy given free rein in a candy store, unable to decide which delicacy to sample first.

It didn’t take him long to decide, and soon he elicited a series of soft, impatient moans. Their bodies writhed against one another, burning with need, until they threatened to burst spontaneously into flames.

Marcie helped him discard his own clothes. Between wet, wild kisses she steered him into her bedroom. Johnny picked her up and gently laid her across the top of her mattress.

As he had over dessert and coffee, he prolonged the anticipation, using his hands and his mouth until she was sobbing with need, wanting him with a desperation that made her fear she was going out of her mind.

“In time,” he promised with a husky whisper. “We have all night, dahlin’, all night.”

Impatient, Marcie held out her arms to him. Inadvertently her head hit something soft and fuzzy.

Johnny reached for the teddy bear and tossed it off the bed.

The teddy bear. Clifford’s gift. The one he’d given to remind her how much he loved her. The only gift she’d ever received from a man who didn’t expect payment in return.

Johnny might as well have poured a bucket of ice water over her head.

He went to kiss her, but she jerked her head away. “I can’t do this.”

Johnny went stock-still. “Can’t do what?”

“Make love with you.”

“Sweetheart, it’s a little late for regrets. We’re already making love.” He laughed good-naturedly, as if this were all a bad joke, but one he was willing to overlook.

While she possessed the strength, Marcie rolled off the bed. Unsteady on her feet, she walked to her closet and hurriedly donned her robe. “You got a cigarette?” she asked shakily. She’d given up the habit, but she needed a smoke now, worse than any time since she’d quit.

“A cigarette?” Johnny sat at the end of her bed and scratched his head. “Don’t we generally wait until afterward for that?”

“I don’t smoke anymore,” she whispered, then realized she’d been the one to make the request. “I do sometimes when I’m under a lot of stress.”

Johnny plowed all ten fingers though his hair. “I’m apparently missing something here. Maybe you could clue me in? What the hell just happened?”

“It’s a long story.” Remembering that she might have an old pack of Salems around, Marcie walked over to her dresser and searched through the top drawer until she found a cigarette.

Her hands shook so hard, she had trouble lighting up. She inhaled deeply, blew the smoke at the ceiling, and then coughed until she thought she’d heave her guts out.

She went into the bathroom and tossed the lit cigarette into the toilet.

“Marcie, sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong?”

“You have every right to be angry,” she said, walking back into the room and retrieving the teddy bear. She held it against her abdomen like a shield.

“I’m not mad,” he said gently, “just confused.”

“It’s Clifford.”

“Clifford,” Johnny repeated as if he weren’t quite sure he remembered the name. “Your new boyfriend?”

“Right.” She nodded once, profoundly. “He’s never asked anything of me.” Her gaze skirted back to the bed. “He’s been kind and good—”

“I’ll be good to you, too, sweetheart.” His words were heavy with insinuation. “Give me a chance to show you exactly how good it can be.”

“It’s not that kind of good,” she said, and realized she was doing a poor job of explaining herself. She swept the hair away from her face. “Clifford doesn’t ask anything of me,” she said bluntly.

Johnny’s eyes rounded with offense. “Hey, I didn’t buy you dinner because—”

“I know. I know,” she interrupted. “I don’t know how to explain it. He’s kind and steady and—”

“You’re still talking about Clifford, right?”

“Right. I can’t hurt him like this because you turn me on.” She continued to clench the stuffed animal against her middle.

Johnny didn’t respond.

“You have every right to be furious. I wouldn’t blame you if you walked out that door and never saw
me again. It’d probably be best for both of us if you did.”

Again Johnny didn’t say anything. Buck naked, he stood and retrieved his clothes.

“How about putting on a pot of coffee,” he suggested.

“Coffee?”

“Make it strong, all right? Real strong.”

She nodded.

Then he headed for her bathroom. “You don’t mind if I use your shower, do you?”

“Not at all.” Johnny was closing the door when she realized she hadn’t told him about the problem with the hot-water knob.

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered after she explained, rubbing a hand down his face. “I won’t be using the hot water.”

Murphy parked the jeep
on the side of a rut-filled dirt road and studied the map. He’d managed to stay off the main thoroughfares, but he wasn’t fool enough to presume they’d made a clean escape.

Blowing up the fuel dump had created the diversion he’d needed in order to rescue Letty, but it wasn’t something Captain Norte was likely to forget or forgive. Captain Norte, however, was the least of his worries.

Murphy’s neck was on the chopping block, and consequently Letty’s was too. But the good captain and his band of murderous cutthroats had to find him first, which was something Murphy intended to make damned difficult.

Once he’d found his bearings, he folded the map and replaced it inside his knapsack.

Letty slept fitfully at his side. It had taken several
hours for her to fall asleep. She’d curled up and ridden in stone silence until pure exhaustion had taken hold.

Murphy’s experience with comforting women was limited. He didn’t know what to say to ease her mind, so he’d said next to nothing. Mainly he heaped the blame for the near rape upon his own shoulders, and he cursed himself for ever having left her. In his defense, he reminded himself that Letty had been unreasonable and stupid and he’d responded in kind.

He didn’t calculate how long he’d been away. Not long, thirty, forty minutes. In that time she’d managed to walk waist deep into a pile full of shit.

Murphy refused to continue to beat himself up. The ordeal was over, the soldier who’d attacked her was dead, and he and Letty were miles away from Siguierres.

Letty stirred, sat up, and rubbed her hand along the back of her neck in an effort to work out the kinks. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A couple of hours.”

He felt her stare and her hesitation.

“I…I was wrong,” she said.

Murphy shifted the gear into first. “Which time?”

“I should have waited like you instructed. It was a mistake to go after you. It’s just that ten hours can be a terribly long time when one is waiting. I heard gunshots and I didn’t know what had happened to you and…It doesn’t matter now. I made a mistake. It was all my fault and…” She let the rest fade away.

“As I recalled, you fired me,” he remarked stiffly.

“I shouldn’t have done that, either.”

“True.” He wasn’t going to argue about the obvious. She’d learned her lesson the hard way. “What are you prepared to offer me to come back?”

She closed her arms protectively around her torso.

“Don’t worry, the terms will be different this time.”

“What do you want?”

He noted the apprehension in her voice.

“One thing, and one thing only.” He held up his index finger for emphasis. “You will do what I say, when I say, without question. If you disobey an order again, it’s over. Understand?”

She nodded.

“Good. Now that that’s clear, let’s find your brother and get the hell out of here.”

The road was filled with ruts large enough to swallow small animals. They were far enough off the beaten path that Murphy didn’t worry about being detected. He slowed to a crawl in order to manipulate the vehicle around problem areas.

He worried about Letty. He didn’t like a lot of chatter on a mission and up to this point had discouraged conversation. Although she’d abided by his unwritten demand, he’d felt her eagerness to ask questions. Not this day. Her silence was a good indication of how badly the attack had shaken her.

“You hungry?” he asked after a while.

“A little.”

“We’ll stop soon.” If he was a different kind of man, he’d take her in his arms. Tenderness was as foreign to him as comforting distraught women. Besides, he was fairly certain that the last thing Letty needed or wanted was a man’s touch. Murphy frowned. Much
more of this and he’d turn into one of those men seeking to find their inner child.

“Would it be possible for me to have a bath?” she asked after a while.

A bath
? Judas H. Priest, what did she expect? They weren’t likely to run across a luxury spa in the jungle.

As he remembered from the map, there was a small lake close by, and he told her so.

The higher the elevation, the more lush the vegetation, and they’d been climbing steadily since leaving Hojancha. The terrain was dramatically different from the hot, dry area they’d left two days earlier.

Murphy found a decent spot to park the jeep, and while Letty nibbled at breakfast, he made a half-mile circle around the lake to be sure they hadn’t plopped themselves down in the middle of a rebel-infested area.

“Go ahead and take your bath,” he said when he returned. He removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm.

Letty hesitated. “Is there a chance anyone will be watching me?”

“No one human,” he answered confidently.

She thanked him with a weak smile and walked behind a low-lying bush to remove her clothes.

Murphy climbed inside the jeep, scooted the seat back as far as it would go, and tried to sleep. He’d been up the better part of thirty hours and felt it.

He heard water splash as Letty stepped into the lake. A picture of her body formed in his mind, and he struggled valiantly to banish it. To no avail.

Try as he might, he couldn’t expel the mental image
of her lush breasts and her milky white skin from his mind. Sweat broke out across his brow.

“Murphy…”

Her cursed under his breath. “What now?” he answered gruffly.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you happen to have any soap?”

The next thing he knew, she’d be asking about face cream and deodorant. He bit back the sarcastic question and reached for his knapsack.

“Just a minute,” he said with a decided lack of enthusiasm.

“Thank you. I really do hate to bother you.”

He’d just bet she did. Murphy located the soap and walked over to the water’s edge. It lapped lazily against the sandy shore, inviting. Birds chirped merrily nearby. He was pleased someone was happy.

Letty had squatted down in about three feet of crystal blue water so all that showed was her neck and creamy white shoulders. It was enough. His jaw clenched at the angry-looking bruise her blouse had covered. The acid in his stomach burned along with his hate for the men who had inflicted those bruises.

“I’ll catch the soap if you throw it,” she volunteered, and lifted her hands out of the water. In doing so, she inadvertently exposed the top half of her generous breasts.

Murphy heaved the small soap bar in her direction, turned abruptly, and headed back toward the jeep.

“The water’s wonderful.”

He grumbled some nonsensical reply under his breath. He was in no mood for her chatter.

“You should come in yourself,” she offered next. “I’ll be out of your way in no time.”

The temptation was strong, far stronger than it should have been. Murphy knew better, but he was hot and overly tired and in need of something. Exactly what remained a mystery.

Before he could question the wisdom of his action, he sat down in the sand and removed his boots. He peeled off his clothes in record time, leaving on his briefs, and walked out to meet her.

Letty’s eyes rounded with each step he advanced toward her. “I thought you’d wait until I’d finished,” she mumbled.

“I decided not to.” He wasn’t entirely sure what she expected him to do. Once he was waist deep, Murphy dove headfirst into the cool water and swam below the surface until his lungs felt as if they would burst.

Damn, but it felt good.

He turned around and found Letty exactly where he’d left her. “Do you want the soap?” she asked timidly, her back to him.

“Yeah.” He swam toward her and stopped a respectable distance away, offering her a semblance of privacy. His feet touched the bottom and he stood. The water lapped at his chest.

Letty held on to the soap bar as if it were gold. “Murphy?”

The emotion in her voice caught him off guard. “Yeah?”

Her throat worked convulsively, as if she were trying to swallow something too big to go down her esophagus. “I…need to say something.”

“Now?”

“Yes,” she cried, half laughing, half weeping, “now, while I still have the courage.”

A woman’s mind was a mystery to Murphy. Why she’d choose this precise moment, when they were both near nude, for this tête-à-tête made no sense to him.

“I want to thank you for saving me from those soldiers.” Each word appeared to be a struggle for her to enunciate.

His inclination was to make light of his role. He’d been hired to protect her, to get her in and out of the country as quickly and as safely as he could. She seemed to conveniently forget that none of this would have happened if they’d both done as they should. It was a lesson well learned.

She swabbed at the moisture on her face. “Could you…would you mind very much holding me for a moment?” she asked brokenly.

Before he could react, Letty was in his embrace, clinging to him as if he were a rope dangling over the edge of a cliff. Her arms circled his neck, and she buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing softly.

“I was so frightened.”

“I know, I know.” Unsure what else to say or do, Murphy gently patted her slender back, doing his best not to notice how soft her skin was.

“If you hadn’t come when you did—”

“It’s over now.”

“He meant to kill me,” she said with conviction. “He was going to rape me and then strangle me. He pressed his arm against my throat and I couldn’t breathe.”

“It’s over, honey.”

She clung to him, her skin cool and slick, her body nestling against him. Murphy wasn’t made of stone. He couldn’t ignore the way her breasts teased his chest any more than he could ignore her legs rubbing against his.

Gritting his teeth, he wrapped his arms around Letty’s waist and held her firmly, securely, in his arms. What she needed was his strength, his protection, his confidence. That was what she sought.

“Come on,” he whispered, and used his jaw to caress the side of her head. “We need to get out of here.”

She nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Friends?” she asked.

The question was one he preferred not to answer.

Raising her head, Letty met his eyes. “Friends?” she asked a second time.

Letty Madden and him. Not likely. His friends were few. Carefully chosen. He was a hired gun, and he didn’t want her painting him as her personal knight in shining armor because he’d killed the bastard about to rape her.

“No thanks, sweetheart. I got all the friends I can handle.” He knew, even as he spoke, that his words would insult and offend her, but that couldn’t be helped. They’d come to Zarcero to do a job. When it was finished he’d be out of her life and she’d be out of his.

Letty’s head snapped back, and she glared at him. “You’re a nasty son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” He wouldn’t deny it. “You’d best not forget it.”
He stalked toward the shore. “It’s time to get back on the road,” he said evenly. “We leave in five minutes.”

Letty plowed out of the water, making more noise than a Sherman tank, sloshing and kicking, venting her frustration like a woman scorned.

Murphy quickly donned his clothes and had a hell of a time hiding his smile.

His amusement quickly faded when he realized they were being watched. He didn’t know where or who was out there. Not yet. Over the years he’d developed a sixth sense about such matters.

“Letty…” He kept his voice low and calm.

She ignored him.

“Without being obvious, walk over to me.”

Something in his voice must have alerted her to the danger. She picked up her clothes and walked directly to his side. “Someone’s out there,” she whispered.

He grinned. “Yeah, I know.”