The Mission War (5 page)

“Simply tied more securely. How does he slip his hands from those ties? Those I did myself; I know they were good knots.”

“I must ...”

Whatever Jessie felt she must do, Diego's kiss smothered it. When he finally pulled away, she was breathless, her pulse racing. Who was this man? She could feel no evil about him, nothing savage or angry.

“Let's talk,” Diego said.

“Where?” She didn't even argue with this tall, handsome enigma.

“The upper
tinaja.”

“That corpse up there—”

“I had it removed. He was buried. Rather a cairn was built. There's no chance of digging in this ground. Come, come with me, Jessica Starbuck.”

And he took her hand and she went meekly as if there were no choice. The moon cast long shadows before them and bathed the white rocks with quicksilver. They climbed to the upper
tinaja
and there it was still, beautiful. The pond gleamed with silver light.

“Sit down,” Diego said and Jessica obeyed as if she had been mesmerized. Diego sat beside her, and for a time they just watched the silver hills, the distant moonlit desert flats.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“I want you,” he said, and he kissed her again, his hand pressing against her spine, running down to her beltline, drawing her nearer. Jessie turned her head away.

“You said you wanted to talk.”

“As little as possible,” Diego said. His left hand was on Jessie's thigh now, bringing an incredible warmth.

“Who are you?” she asked again in wonder, her eyes searching his face, his black, laughing eyes. “You're not some sort of lawman, a government agent?”

Cardero laughed. “Diego Cardero! No, nothing like that. I am a wanted man, Jessica, an outlaw.”

“Then—”

“Then we need discuss it no more.” He gently laid her back and she stared up at him as he leaned near and kissed her throat, her parted lips. His hands cupped her breasts firmly; his eyes shone with desire.

“Jessica, nothing will happen to you, to you or Ki. I promise you that.”

“How can you?”

“Believe me. I mean it.”

Before she could ask another question, he had pressed himself against her. Slowly he opened the buttons of her white silk blouse, his lips following his fingers down, kissing the soft smoothness of her breasts, which now bobbed free, moonlit and perfect. Cardero made a small sound of pleasure and kissed each pink, taut nipple once.

Then, without another word, he rose and took off his shirt, kicked off his boots, and discarded his trousers. He stood over Jessica Starbuck, naked and lean, his manhood evident, strong and ready.

She gave up trying to understand this man, to solve the puzzle of his character. She sat up and wrapped her arms around his thighs, drawing him to her, feeling his hands go to her shoulders.

Her own body was pulsing, growing damp, preparing itself. Her lips brushed Diego's inner thighs, her hands clenched his hard buttocks, and she lay back, her honey-blond hair tangled, veiling her face but not her smile.

Jessica kicked off her own boots, tugged her jeans down, and lay watching, just watching.

Cardero's eyes slowly swept over her, devouring every inch of smooth white flesh, of long, sleek thighs, of round, firm breasts, and of blond soft nest of hair.

Then he went down to her and his lips continued the examination, tasting her ears, her throat, breasts, and belly.

“Here,” Jessie said, and she rolled slightly. An impatient hand reached, searching for and finding Cardero's long, solid shaft. She touched the head of it to her inner softness and sighed. She positioned him as she lay and rose to meet his entry. Her eyes were moonlit, her lips parted, slack, as Cardero inched ahead and slid into her moist depths.

She felt him tense, felt his hands. And she reached again, cupping his sack, holding him deep within her, keeping him motionless until she could stand it no longer, and she began to sway slowly against him, to work her body in small, demanding circles against him, feeling his movement deep inside where her own body, adjusting, wanting, had become utterly responsive.

She was wet with need and overcome by a sudden urge to slam herself against him, to twist and writhe and devour him. A small cry emerged from her throat and Cardero, stimulated by the sound, by the rush from Jessie's body, began to drive against her.

His hands were on her buttocks, his back was arched, his teeth set, as he throbbed within her, burying himself to the hilt, feeling the answering movements of her body, the hard, needful pitch and roll and thrust of her, hearing a second, joyous cry escape her lips.

Then Cardero could hold himself back no more and he finished with a series of long, jerking movements that brought a deep, racking, rushing climax.

He fell against Jessie, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling his face down to meet her nearly savage kiss.

She continued to sway against him, small finishing movements that brought lingering satisfaction to her body, which was gradually cooling, gradually draining of need and tension.

Cardero was still against her, his soft breathing brushing against her throat. She hugged him and watched the stars. She tried not to think about what kind of man this was, this bandit, Diego Cardero.

She closed her eyes briefly, enjoying her body's warmth, its satisfaction. When she opened them again, a man with a rifle was standing over them.

Chapter 4

Carlos had an indescribably dirty leer on his crooked face. The rifle in his hands glinted dully in the moonlight. Cardero rolled over and sat up. He started to rise, but Carlos shoved him back.

“Damn you, Carlos.”

“Shut up. I've got the gun. Why should you get all the fun, eh? It's my turn now.”

Diego didn't answer. Instead, he launched himself at Carlos, a low growl rising from his throat as he clutched at the rifle in Carlos' hands.

Carlos was a little quicker. He stepped back and slapped out with the stock of his rifle. There was a sickening thud as the stock met Diego Cardero's jaw, and Diego rolled aside, holding his face and with his leg twitching.

“And now you lie back,” Carlos told Jessie. “Now it is my turn, eh?”

Carlos dropped his pants as Jessie eased away. The bandit stood over her, rifle still in hands. “Hold still,” he told her, “and do this my way.”

There was a small, unidentifiable sound then, like a cleaver cutting into meat. Carlos had been smiling; now he looked merely puzzled. He turned to look behind him and fell over dead, the arrow in his back snapping of as he hit the ground.

Diego had come to a little and he was in time to see Carlos fall. Someone moved on the rocks above them and the bandit reached for Carlos' rifle. From one knee he fired a shot, which whined off rock, singing into the night. The man, whoever it was, was gone.

“Get dressed quickly!” Diego said. “That shot will bring them.”

“What are you going to do? What are you going to tell them?” Jessica wanted to know.

“Quickly, quickly, little one.” Diego kissed her briefly and then was tugging his own clothing on. Already they could hear the excitement in the camp below, hear shouting and the rushing of feet.

Cardero was still tucking in his shirt when the bandits, fully armed and with Mono at their head, arrived.

“What happened? Who's that?”

“Carlos,” Halcón said, crouching beside the body. He peered up curiously at Diego. “An arrow in the back.”

“What is this, Diego?” Mono asked. “What's happened here?”

“I just arrived. I was going to relieve Carlos. He had brought the woman up here. I don't know what he thought he was going to do to her, though I have a good idea. Someone fired an arrow into Carlos' back. I was in time to get one shot off, but it missed.”

“Yaquis?”

“One supposes.”

“Damn him. He was supposed to be on watch. Instead, he fools with the woman. We could have all had our throats cut in our sleep. Stupid bastard,” Mono said, and he kicked the dead body of Carlos. He looked around, eyes scouring the hills. “No one sleeps tonight. They're out there and we now know it. No one touches this woman again. Understand me? I'll find plenty of women for you, all you want. But later! Leave this one alone. Stupid bastard,” he then repeated, looking down at Carlos. Mono had his foot cocked back as if to kick the body again, but he never followed through. Jessica guessed there was only so much fun even a man like Mono could have kicking corpses.

“Spread out. Find positions! Don't shoot each other,” Mono shouted. Then he returned his attention to Jessica and Diego. “Take her back to camp. Tie her again. Watch her and the Chinaman.”

“Yes, Mono.”

Then the bandit chief turned and walked away without another word, apparently satisfied completely with Diego's explanation of the night's events.

There was another man there yet, one who perhaps wasn't wholly satisfied: Halcón who stood watching Diego for a long minute, his black eyes unreadable in the moonlight. He looked at Jessie and then at Diego, nodded as with satisfaction, and then started after Mono in a silent trot.

“He knows,” Jessica said.

“He knows something. No matter. He was no friend of Carlos anyway.”

“No.” Jessie looked at Carlos' body and then at the cliff where the Indian who shot him had been. One Indian. One arrow. “Is that the way the Yaquis would attack?” she asked Diego.

“I don't know. Who knows? Why? What are you thinking, Jessica?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. That is, I don't know. Something doesn't ring true here. What, I don't know.”

“What about me, Jessica?” Diego asked. “Do I ring true to you now?”

She looked into his smiling eyes and felt his arm around her shoulders. Again she shook her head. “No, darn you, you don't ring true, Diego Cardero. You don't at all.”

Ki was worried by the time they returned. Relief washed over his face as he saw Jessica, saw that she was safe. Diego had done a good job tying Ki. His wrists were behind him as were his legs. A noose was around his neck and the rope from that led to his ankles. There was little Ki could do by way of movement without strangling himself.

“Sit down, Jessica,” Diego said.

“You're not going to leave him like that?” Jessie asked with some heat.

“Not now, now that I am here.” Diego produced a knife and with it he cut the noose free of Ki's throat. He proceeded to tie up Jessie firmly, but not tightly enough to cut off the circulation. “And now,” Diego said, “I am myself going to do something I don't do often—try some of that tequila. Would either of you care to join me? No? Well, then, I drink alone. Oh”—he had started away, but now he halted and turned back—“please don't make me shoot you, Ki. Let us all sit quietly the rest of the night.”

“Diego,” Jessie said in a whisper, “you could let us go—now while only we three are here. Ride with us.”

“No.” Diego smiled. “You misunderstand me, Jessica Starbuck. I can hardly let you go. I am sorry.”

After a little bow, he turned and walked away, Jessie's puzzled eyes following him.

“What happened up there?” Ki asked. He had to repeat the question before Jessica heard him. Briefly she told Ki about Carlos and the arrow. Ki listened silently and nodded when she was through.

“Was it a Yaqui, Ki?” Jessica asked. “They all seem to think it was.”

“Perhaps,” Ki said. “Perhaps it was, after all, a Yaqui who killed Carlos. Whoever it was, I would say that he has done the world a favor.”

Diego Cardero was crouched near the dead fire, a rifle across his knees and a tin cup in his hand. His eyes were still on Jessica and Ki.

“This one, Ki?” Jessie asked in a low voice. “What do you make of him?”

“This one,” Ki answered, “is the dangerous one, more dangerous perhaps than Mono. Yes, this one is the one to be watched.”

The silver moon passed overhead and died behind the white mountains. Nothing moved on the desert. An owl called from somewhere and a coyote answered with a mournful howl and then was silent. If the Yaquis were out there, it seemed they had withdrawn, biding their time.

 

 

With the first gray light, the bandits dragged themselves back into camp after a long, cold watch among the rocks. Mono was in a terrible mood.

“Let's go. Now. We ride while it's cool.”

“Ride where?”

“San Ignacio. I want water, food, tequila. To hell with Don Alejandro. He can wait another day for his prizes here.”

Diego Cardero looked somewhat refreshed, his clothing barely dusty and his sombrero square on his head. He came to Jessica and Ki and helped them to their feet, cutting their ankle bonds so that they could ride.