The Mission War (8 page)

His gun had been on his lap. Now he aimed and fired. Thunder filled the room as Mono's Colt spat flame. The bullet hit the peon in the face, toppling him and spattering the wall behind him with blood. The woman screamed. Arturo laughed out loud at Mono's little joke.

“You bastards,” Jessica said. Whether they heard her or not, no one looked at her—no one but Diego Cardero who was still smoking, still appearing unruffled by any of this. Jessica glanced at him once, her eyes cutting, and then she turned her head away.

“Get that thing out of here,” Mono commanded. “And dance! Who told you to stop dancing?” He fired again, a bullet punching through the fine polished wood of a guitar. “Sing, dance, drink. The night is young and we mean to fill it with pleasure!”

The sound of the shot had reached into Ki's cell. His head came up, his mind filling with all sorts of possibilities as to the shot's meaning. There had been other random shots throughout the evening, but this one had somehow sounded different. It had carried an echo of death.

Ki rose and paced the room again. He felt helpless and he despised the feeling. He was a man who was used to directing the course of his own fate with his two good hands and his mind. This, not seeing, not knowing, not having any useful course of action, was nearly insufferable.

Outside the door Ki heard a quick scuffling sound, a muted groan. He spun that way, waiting, expecting anything but what he saw next.

The door opened slowly and the woman named Maria and who had brought his food stood there, backlighted by the lantern. Behind her on the floor lay Halcón.

“Hurry,” she said impatiently. She gestured toward the corridor, and Ki, ready to take almost any chance no matter how small, followed her quickly.

He stepped over Halcón who lay still, a huge iron skillet beside him on the floor, and followed the girl down the corridor in the opposite direction from the cantina.

The girl had Halcón's pistol in her hand. She slipped it to Ki who tucked it away almost carelessly behind his belt. “Here,” she hissed.

As Ki waited, she opened a back door, peered out into the night, and nodded her head. Ki went after her into the starlit darkness beyond the door. Muffled curses, shouts, whistles, music followed them and then were shut off as the door closed.

“Run now,” Maria whispered.

“No.” Ki stood before the much shorter young woman, rubbing his wrists.

“Run or they will kill you. I intend to run.”

“You should,” Ki responded. “Take this pistol if you want it.”

“You need a weapon.”

Ki replied, “I am not unarmed,” and the woman just stared up at him, wondering if he was perhaps a madman the outlaws had captured for some reason she could only guess at.

“I don't have a horse to give you—” she began to say.

“I thank you for what you have already done, but I don't need a horse just now.”

The woman didn't understand at first. Then she did. “The girl inside, the blond
gringa?
You mean to try to save her as well?”

“Yes,” Ki answered quietly. “I mean to save her as well.”

“Impossible! Mad one, that cannot be done. If it could, don't you think I would do it?” There was fire in the woman's eyes, bright and defiant. Ki smiled gently.

“Run. They will know who struck Halcón.”

“You can't go back there.”

“I can try,” Ki answered.

“And defeat Mono and all his thugs? And rescue the
gringa?
And maybe the other captive women, the two they are using for dancing? Later they will have other uses for them. I know. Mono has been here before. One woman he drove mad. She was a woman of the church and Mono raped her. He raped her in front of all of his men and laughed when the woman screamed and cried and thrashed. My father saw it. He also saw a chance and told me to run. Now!”

“Then run,” Ki repeated very quietly.

Before the woman could respond, the back door of the cantina burst open. Miguel, rifle in hands, charged out into the night.

He was looking for Ki apparently, looking for whoever had slugged Halcón, but he came out too quickly, not giving his eyes time to adjust to the darkness, not giving himself enough time to find his enemy before he ran right into him.

There was no hesitation at all in Ki's movements. He spun the girl away from him, crouched, and as the startled Miguel brought his rifle to his shoulder, Ki sprang from the earth, his foot striking out at Miguel's throat.

The leaping kick nearly decapitated Miguel as Ki's foot caught the bandit under the chin, crushing cartilage and snapping his head back. Miguel's eyes bugged out of his head; a strangled cry gurgled through his broken throat. Ki landed softly and turned, his hands poised, but already he knew he would not have to strike at Miguel again. The man was dead, lying still and dark in the wedge of light that bled out into the alley from the cantina.

Softly Ki closed the door, glancing at Maria who had her fingers to her lips. “I never saw—” she began to say, but Ki took her hand and quieted her.

“Not now. Come. There will be others.”

“You will run away with me?”

“For now I will run. Get moving now; there will be more.”

“My father's house ...” she said breathlessly as they started at a trot up the darkened alley behind the cantina.

“That is the first place they would look,” Ki said. “There must be another place, a place the
bandidos
would know nothing about, a place you played in when you were a little girl, perhaps.”

“There is.” Maria panted. “I know a place. Just a goatherd's shack—back among the willow trees on an island in the river. The goatherd has been dead many years.”

“All right. That'll have to do,” Ki said. Behind him there were shouts and curses from the cantina. They had found Miguel. “Hurry, Maria. Hurry now or we'll never see morning.”

They crossed the plaza, Ki moving in a crouch, and ran on past the closed church. The river ahead of them gleamed dully and wound through the willows like a blue satin ribbon.

They stopped at the bank of the river, Maria holding her breast, breathing raggedly.

“Which way now?” Ki asked, and she pointed one finger.

“We wade the river. It's very shallow. The island ...” She paused for breath. “When the goatherd lived there, it wasn't an island, but the river has changed its course.”

They walked into the water, which rose to Ki's knees and slogged across toward the island. An owl dipped low and then veered away sharply as Ki and Maria waded past the center of the stream and worked toward the far beach.

Ki glanced back once and saw no pursuit, but there would be some—if not tonight when the drinking seemed momentarily more important, then at first light. Ki could not be allowed to escape. He had killed one of their own.

And he was still worth something. There was a cartel bounty on him, and Mono, mad as he was, wouldn't be willing to throw that away.

Nor would he now be willing to take Ki to the Don Alejandro alive—not when Ki's severed head would serve just as well.

They reached the far bank, which was muddy and steeply sloped, and clambered up and into the willows, using the tangled roots projecting from the bank.

Into the willows they moved slowly, fighting off the brush and the swarms of mosquitoes. Maria lost her way, found it, lost it again, and then they changed directions until the willows suddenly parted. In a small, well-concealed clearing, they came upon the old goatherd's shack.

It was of bark and willow branches, but the door was made from sturdy pine planks and showed little signs of rot or time's depredations.

Ki jiggled the door and got it to open on its ancient hinges. Inside it was dark, still, smelling of age. Something scuttled away in the darkness.

As their eyes adjusted, they could see the ancient bed made of leather straps tacked to a framework of two-by-fours, a tilting table, and two wooden chairs. Ki crossed the room, opened a window, and stood looking out and listening for a long while.

Maria watched him. He stood silhouetted before the stars, tall and handsome and competent. She felt a small stirring in her belly and was surprised by it.

“Are they coming?” she asked.

“I don't see anyone. I'll stand watch outside, though. I don't think anyone can cross the river without me hearing them.”

Maria just nodded. She looked to the bed. Ki followed her eyes there. By the starlight he could make out her weary expression, the fine structure of her facial bones, and the swell and thrust of her young, ripe breasts. Her skirt was soaked through, her shoes wet.

“Lie down,” Ki told her. “Take off your skirt before you catch a chill. I'll be outside. Don't worry, I won't bother you.”

Maria started to say something in answer and failed to accomplish it. She poked around and found an old blanket rolled up under the bed. When she shook it, a few moths and a cloud of dust flew out, but it would keep the chill away through the night.

Ki had gone to the door, and with a last backward glance, he went out to watch and wait. He had spent much time doing just that—watching and waiting—for Ki was a warrior and much of a warrior's time is filled with waiting.

The stars were full and bright. The willows stood as dark, slowly shifting creatures responding to the whims of the night breeze. Downstream frogs in abundance cho rused. If anyone were coming that way, the frogs would stop abruptly and so would the crickets that chirped all around Ki as he sat quietly, feeling the night.

For hours he watched, barely moving, until he heard the door open behind him, heard the soft footsteps, felt the gentle hand fall onto his shoulder.

“I am frightened,” Maria said. “It's dark and cool, and I'm alone. Come in with me.”

Chapter 7

Ki turned and rose slowly. The night air was cool, the woman before him young and beautiful. There was something in her soft, dark eyes beyond the obvious fear and uncertainty. Perhaps it was nothing more than the timeless longing of a woman for a man, a man strong, protective, and capable of keeping away hunger, danger, and the night.

“Come inside with me,” Maria said again, and her small hand closed around Ki's.

Ki looked into her eyes once more and then he nodded. Death was roaming the streets of San Ignacio and the desert beyond, but he could do nothing about that just now. What he could do was drive the fear out of a woman's heart for just a little while and lose himself in the forgetfulness of lovemaking.

She had made the little bed neatly. Inside she stopped, turned hesitantly, and kissed Ki's lips. Then she slipped from the white chemise she wore and stood before him naked and lovely in the starlight.

Ki touched her with his eyes before his hands so much as stretched out to her. He looked at the sleek lines of her neck and her full, slightly parted lips. He let his gaze drop to her dark-nippled, full breasts and then to the slender waist and the flaring, womanly hips.

He stepped to her and his hands went around her waist, his fingers tracing patterns across her bare, smooth back and then dropping to her ass, so full and solid and sheathed by flawless honey skin.

He kissed her and drew her closer, feeling her shudder. Then with a smile he stepped away, just studying her for a moment. She bowed her head, leaning against Ki, her fingers going to the buttons of his shirt, unfastening them as her lips found his chest. She tasted the small dark nipples and then found his navel, which her tongue explored as Ki's hands rested on her shoulders.

Maria lay back on the bed and watched Ki kick off his soft shoes and remove his trousers. She caught her breath when she saw him standing naked before her, his manhood erect and proud. Ki went to her and she sat on the edge of the bed, one hand encasing his erection, stroking it gently. Her thumb moved across the tender head of it. Her other hand clenched his buttocks and drew him nearer. Her cheek was against his belly; her hair soft and dark was loose and pleasant against Ki's eager flesh.

“Come down to me,” Maria said. “Come down and show me how to make love to you.”

She lay back, her eyes bright, her skin smooth and glossed by starlight. Ki knelt, kissing her soft inner thighs. He felt the quivering there as his fingers found her core and searched her soft inner flesh.

Ki kissed her belly, found her breasts with his lips, and moved on top of her, his body seeming weightless but strong, very strong.

Maria closed her eyes partly, her mouth opened to meet Ki's gentle, searching kiss. She responded eagerly, arching her back. Her tongue tasted Ki's lips as he positioned himself, feeling the heat from her body, the urging of her kisses.