Sooner or Later (21 page)

“You must go,” he whispered, “and quickly. Return to the church tomorrow morning. I will find out what I can about your brother.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. She turned to retreat from the pew at the far end.

“Judas H. Priest. Letty.”

A harsh male voice echoed like a pistol shot through the church.

“Murphy.” She scrambled onto the polished wooden pew, leaped over the back, and raced toward him. He looked like hell warmed over. As bad as she felt.

He held his arms open, and laughing and crying, she flew into his embrace.

His arms closed over her and held her with such strength that she couldn’t breathe. Letty didn’t care. Her lungs might not be able to function, but her heart was in fine shape.

“Where the bloody hell have you been for the last two days?”

“Me?” she gasped. “Where were you?”

He didn’t answer. “You try this kind of stupid stunt again and I’ll—”

“Yes. Yes.”

Slanting his mouth over hers, he kissed her with an urgency and hunger that robbed her of what little breath remained in her.

“I should kill you after what I’ve been through the last two days.”

“This hasn’t exactly been a picnic for me.”

He didn’t stop kissing her. Again and again his mouth roughly claimed hers. His teeth ground against hers, and when she sighed, his tongue swept the moist interior until they were both panting and breathless.

She twined her arms around his neck and stepped onto her tiptoes. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“I couldn’t make myself stop looking for you,” he murmured between kisses.

“I was so afraid.”

Murphy chuckled. “You? I don’t believe it for a moment.”

Father Alfaro cleared his throat pointedly. “Perhaps you should introduce me to your friend, my dear.”

Keeping his arm around
Letty, Murphy turned to face the man of the cloth. He wasn’t going to let Letty out of his sight unless he could be certain exactly where he could find her again. In the last two days he’d turned San Paulo upside down looking for her, worrying about her damn fool neck and risking his own in the process.

“Murphy, this is Father Alfaro.” Letty gestured toward the priest.

“Pleased to meet you, Father,” Murphy muttered, leaned forward, and offered the older man his hand.

“Father has a friend, someone who might be able to find out what’s happened to Luke.”

Murphy studied the priest, wondering exactly how much they should trust this man. His instincts were generally good, and it seemed to him the priest could be counted as an ally.

While Murphy had roamed the city, he’d made a few subtle inquiries of his own and learned that Commander Faqueza, the man in charge of the military complex, was a real bad-ass. Faqueza had a reputation for torturing his prisoners and enjoying the process of crippling them mentally. If by some miracle Letty’s brother was alive, Faqueza might well have broken him. Letty could be risking her life for a brother gone mad with pain.

“I’ll learn what I can,” Father Alfaro assured Luke, “but I can’t make any promises.”

The priest’s gaze held his a second or two longer than necessary, as if to say he didn’t personally hold out much hope Luke was alive.

“I can’t tell you how much we appreciate this,” Letty responded for them both.

Murphy’s hand tightened around her shoulder. The relief he’d experienced when he’d walked into the church and found her was beyond description. He’d given up, convinced himself the only way he’d connect with her again was through Luke.

For two solid days the uneasy restless sensation in the pit of his stomach had persisted. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the feeling he should be able to find Letty.

Not until the sun had set and night had blanketed the capital city had Murphy recalled that when they’d separated briefly in Siguierres, the first place Letty had gone to had been the local church. As soon as he’d remembered that, he’d quickly stalked from one house of worship to another, looking for any trace of her.

“We’ve got another problem,” Murphy told her
grimly. Now that he knew Norte was in town, the sooner they found Luke the better. Murphy was smart enough to recognize that Norte’s presence was no coincidence.

“What?” Her anxious eyes met his.

“Norte’s in town.”

“You know Captain Norte?” Father Alfaro’s voice dipped with tension as he mentioned the other man’s name.

Murphy nodded.

“I don’t think you’d say we were two of his favorite people,” Letty said, and Murphy felt the tension tighten her shoulders.

The priest shook his head sadly. “Captain Norte does not make a good enemy.”

Murphy had already determined as much.

“You must not be seen together.” Father Alfaro rubbed his hands together nervously. He shot them a look and seemed to come to some sort of decision. “Come,” he ordered. “You’ll be safe with me. Hopefully by morning I’ll have some news of your brother.”

Murphy knew the priest was taking a substantial risk on their behalf and hesitated to place the other man in danger. If not for Letty, he would have refused.

Father Alfaro seemed aware of Murphy’s concern. “You needn’t worry. I’ve placed my life in God’s hands many times.” Expecting them to follow obediently, the priest led the way out of the sanctuary.

Once outside, Father Alfaro walked in the shadows around the side of the church to the two-story struc
ture next door. They entered the back of the building and made their way through the kitchen and down a long hallway.

Murphy noticed that Father Alfaro moved as silently as possible and didn’t turn on any lights. He paused at the bottom of the stairs and glanced upward, waited a moment, then escorted them into what looked to be a library. Once inside, he closed the door softly. The moonlight that filtered in from the windows was minimal.

Murphy smelled lemon oil and old books, not an unpleasant combination. The priest flattened his hand against the fireplace mantel and appeared to be searching for something. After a moment Murphy heard a soft clicking sound and then watched in amazement as a bookcase swung open like a door inviting them into a magical, fictional world. Only all that was inside the compact space was a cot and nightstand.

“You’ll be safe here for the time being,” the old priest told them. “I’ll come for you in the morning as soon as I can. Until then I must ask you to be as silent as possible.”

Murphy nodded, and with Letty at his side the two entered the secret room. Letty sat on the side of the bed, and from the way her shoulders slumped forward, Murphy could see that she was exhausted. He wasn’t in much better physical shape himself. The emotional and physical demands of the last two days had taken their toll on him as well.

“Rest well, my friends,” Father Alfaro whispered before the bookshelf silently slid back into place.

The space was instantly dark and smelled of old
books, dust, and mildew. The little light afforded them came through narrow cracks in the bookcase.

Murphy stood for a moment and found his bearings. Locked inside a secret room in a priest’s home wasn’t something handled in any military handbook. It sure as hell wasn’t anything he’d run into in all his years of soldiering. But his main concern was Letty’s safety, and he figured they’d be secure enough.

He heard her stretch out on the narrow cot and half expected her to insist that since there was only one bed, he should take the floor. Unwilling to argue with her, he was about to do exactly that when she whispered, “There’s room enough for you, too.” Her voice was reed thin and inviting.

Something was definitely wrong. Murphy resisted the urge to slam his palm against his ear and clear his head. He actually hesitated, unsure if it was a good idea for them to be that close. Tired as he was, it would be damn difficult to resist making love to Letty. This, he decided, was a symptom of utter exhaustion.

This woman owed him. She’d promised him. He wanted to make love to her more than he’d ever desired any woman. And yet…

“Murphy?”

Silently he moved toward the cot. She’d scooted as far as possible to one side and still remained on the bed. Murphy removed his gun and set it on the night-stand within easy reach.

“How is it,” he couldn’t resist asking, “that of all the churches in San Paulo you stumble upon the one priest involved in covert activities?” He wasn’t accus
tomed to dealing with this kind of incredible luck. Talk about a needle in a haystack.

Letty took an elongated moment to answer him. “I believe God sent me to Father Alfaro.”

Had there been more light, Letty would have seen him scowl. Murphy wasn’t comfortable with her response. If God was willing to allot favors, there were a number of more important ones he wanted. Then again, it would be just like this God of Letty’s to see fit to place them both in the path of temptation. If having them sleep together was God’s idea of a joke, Murphy wasn’t laughing.

He reluctantly eased himself down on the cot. Although she’d insisted there was plenty of room for them both, there wasn’t. He twisted, rolled from one side to the other. Together they discovered the most comfortable position was for him to lie on his back and for her to sleep on her side with her head tucked against his chest.

Murphy’s eyes drifted closed as he hugged Letty to him. Her arm came around his waist and she released a soft, feminine sigh of contentment. This was about as close to heaven that Murphy intended to get. This woman felt incredibly good in his arms. The kind of good that had as much to do with the emotional as it did the physical. The kind of good a man like Murphy feared most, because it meant he cared.

Caring was an expensive emotion for a mercenary. It had cost the life of more than one good man. He’d seen Cain take a bullet because his thinking was muddled with thoughts of Linette. He was determined not to let the same thing happen to him.

“Father Alfaro knew about you,” Letty said, cutting into his thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“He asked if I was traveling with a man.”

“When?”

“Early on, when we first started talking.”

Murphy had to give the matter some thought. He suspected the priest had connections with the CIA, which was good news as far as Murphy was concerned. He might well be in need of those alliances.

“I’m so tired,” Letty whispered, and nestled deeper into his embrace.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sure what I would have done if I hadn’t found you.” She yawned a second time.

“Me either,” he admitted. He could feel himself giving in to the demands of his body. Before he fell completely asleep, he cupped her shoulder and lowered his chin just enough to touch the top of her head. Dropping his guard completely, he wallowed in the rightness of having her in his arms. He might as well own up to the truth. He cared deeply for Letty.

“
Luke
.”

His name came to him on the faintest breath of sound. He rolled his head to one side and opened his eyes. Rosita’s face was framed in the small square box of his metal cell door.

“Rosita?” Was it possible that she could be real? His heart slammed against his ribs as he carefully eased himself off the cot, trying to ignore the pain. He moaned with the effort it cost him to move. The agony went deep, but he would have suffered far worse for the chance to see Rosita.

“I’m here.”

Little more than her beautiful dark eyes showed through the box. But it was enough to send joy crashing through him. This gift, this wonder of seeing the woman he loved, brought him incredible happiness.

“How is it you’re here when—”

“Don’t ask. They won’t let me inside your cell. Not again.”
“Then you
were
here before?”

“Yes.” She blinked back tears. “Please, let me touch you.” The only part of her hand that she could get past the steel bars were two fingers. Luke pressed his lips against the pad of one and nearly wept. Her fingers worked against his face, caressing his unshaven cheek. He closed his eyes, savoring the simple pleasure of her touch.

“I’ll always love you,” he told her, choking on emotion. He paused, fearing if he spoke again, he wouldn’t be able to keep from sobbing.

“And I’ll always love you.”

For the longest moment they did nothing but cherish this unguarded gift of being together. The thick metal door couldn’t bar the love he felt for Rosita or hold hers back from him.

“Are they beating you?” Rosita asked in a voice that said she feared the truth.

He couldn’t lie to her. “Some. Not as bad as in the beginning.”

He watched as the tears crowded her eyes, making them bright and clear; then the moisture spilled down the side of her face.

“Hector and the others?” he asked.

“They were given a decent burial.” Her voice cracked slightly.

He was almost afraid to mention his sister’s name. “Have you heard from Letty?”

“Letty, no. Is she here? In Zarcero? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, but I’m afraid she must be. It was the reason I wasn’t killed with the others.”

“That explains why—” Rosita stopped abruptly, as if she’d already said more than she intended.

“Tell me,” he ordered.

“My uncle…the reason he let me in to see you was to tell you good-bye. Commander Faqueza has ordered a public execution in two days’ time.”

“It’s a trap. You have to find my sister and tell her.”

“But how? Where?”

Luke pressed his forehead against the door. It felt cool against his skin. Cool and hard. He needed to think and couldn’t. His mind clouded with concerns and worries. Anyone he knew who might have helped Letty into the country was either dead or already in prison.

“I’ll try to find her, Luke,” Rosita promised, “I just don’t know where to start looking.”

“Do what you can.” He couldn’t worry about Letty now. Later, when he was alone, he’d dwell on his twin sister and pray God would keep her safe. These moments with Rosita, quite possibly his last, were too precious to waste.

He kissed her fingertips once more. “After I’m dead, Rosita, you must—”

“No,” she cried. “It was a miracle you were saved. You aren’t going to die, my love.”

“We don’t have time for denials. We have to face the truth now, while we can.” If he wasn’t gunned down by a firing squad or hanged, as some of the other political prisoners had been, there was every likelihood that the beatings would kill him.

“How can a God let this happen to us?” She wept openly. Her voice trembled with the force of her sobs.
“How could He allow Hector and the others to die such a horrible death?”

Luke had repeatedly asked these same questions himself. “God isn’t the one responsible for the hate in this world,” he assured her, wanting more than anything to hold Rosita one last time. He would die a happy man if he could feel her softness against him. If he were allowed one last opportunity to touch her sweet face and feel her heartbeat against his own.

She glanced over her shoulder, and he saw a flicker of fear. “I must go.” Wiping the moisture from her face, she offered him a brave smile, turned abruptly, and was gone.

Luke heard the gentle fall of her footsteps as she sped away. The physical effort it cost him to stand caused him to tremble violently. He barely made it back to the bed before he collapsed.

He was suffocating with the weight of his worries. Norte was going to use him to trap Letty.

Luke knew his sister well. She’d do anything to rescue him, including placing herself at incredible risk. He couldn’t allow that to happen, but he didn’t know any way to prevent it.

Letty would come racing in on a white charger, believing she could save him, and in the process sacrifice her own life. His sister hadn’t a clue what these men were like. She’d never seen evil on this level. Neither had Luke until he’d been taken captive.

The only way he could thwart Captain Norte was to die before the public execution could take place. With his eyes open and raised to the heavens, Luke looked to God.

“Let me die,” he pleaded, “before its too late.”