Sandra's Classics - The Bad Boys of Romance - Boxed Set (57 page)

"Princess
.  Wait."

But she fled.

At six in the morning, Blake knocked on her door  to wake her. Not that she'd been asleep; she’d hardly closed her eyes all through the endless night.

But in the pre-dawn darkness, the light tap at the door startled her. She sat up quickly, clutching the blanket to her.

"Yes? Who's there?"

"
Who in hell would it be?” he said sharply. “It’s me. We're leaving in an hour."

"All right," she
answered, staring at the door as if she could see him through it. "I'll be ready."

She heard the sound of something hitting the floor, and then he spoke again. "I'm leaving the carryall. Pack your things and meet me downstairs."

She nodded foolishly, listening while his footsteps faded, and then she rose and dressed in the cotton trousers and shirt he'd  bought her yesterday, deliberately concentrating on nothing but the long day ahead.

They could be in Mexico a couple of days, if their luck held. Elena opened the door and took the carryall from the hallway. And then it would be over. She'd say goodbye and thanks to Blake Rogan and then she could try to forget these past days and...

Her fingers closed on the top item in the carryall. It was the brown shirt Blake had worn last night. Before she realized it, she lifted the shirt to her face and pressed it to her lips. It smelled of him,  of his clean skin and male muskiness.

She sank onto the bed, still clutching the shirt. Forget these past days? No, she thought, burying her face in the soft fabric, no, she'd never do that. She'd never forget any of it—not after last night.

When she'd left the courtyard, Blake had followed her and stood outside the closed door of her room.

"Elena," he'd said quietly, "open the door." But she'd stood silently in the dark, her forehead bowed against the warped wood of the door, breathing heavily, exhausted by an nameless inner turmoil. "Princess, please, let me in." Still she'd said nothing. When he spoke again, his voice was rough. "All right, Elena, if that's the way you want it..."

It wasn’t.

She’d almost told him that, that
what she wanted was to be in his arms, but standing there in the dark, confused by the intensity of her emotions, she had been sure of only one thing.

Her life would never be the same again if Blake made love to her.

Now, she dressed quickly and went down to meet him in the courtyard.

The morning heat was beginning to weigh down on the quiet streets of
Mazatal.

Breakfast—fruit, bread and coffee—
was eaten in silence. Over strong black coffee, he tersely informed her that he'd managed to rent them a truck. Not much of a truck, he added, but it would speed their journey through the Mountains of the Moon.

"The sooner we reach Mexico, the better
.”

Elena nodded in agreement.

What she needed, she told herself, was to put this whole thing behind her. Everything would be all right once she did.

She looked up as a loud horn blasted the early morning silence. An ancient pick-up truck was rattling up the cent
er of the street towards them, glowing beneath a paint scheme that seemed to use all the primary colors. Blake walked towards it as it groaned to a stop.

"It's damned well about time," he growled. "Where the hell have you been, Manuel? You were supposed to be here at six sharp."

A plump little man jumped from the cab, gold teeth gleaming in his apologetic smile. "I am sorry,
senor.
I sleep late. Too much—how you say,
tequila, si!"

Blake pulled a stack of bills from his pocket and stuffed them into the man's hand.

"Yeah, well you can buy yourself lots more with this. Is the truck gassed up?"

The little man nodded. "
Si
. And I check the oil, as you ask." He turned to Elena and beamed at her. "
Buenos dias."

Elena nodded.
"Buenos dias."
She walked to Blake's side and stared at the truck. Its fenders were painted bright red, the hood blue, and the body yellow. But not even the garish paint could cover the rust beneath. "The truck's older than I am," she said under her breath.

"Is that a complaint,
senorita
?" Blake asked in a cold voice.

She paled. "No, of course not. I only meant..."

He stared at her and then he let out his breath. "Never mind. I know what you meant. Believe me, I didn't have any choice. It was this or nothing. Go on," he said with a tight smile, "get in. Manuel swears this thing runs better than it looks."

"You will leave my truck with my cousin
Teodoro in Galindo, yes?" the little man asked nervously as Blake gunned the engine to life. His voice rose above the laboring roar. "The little house by the
cantina..."

"...with the television antenna and the big brown dog. Yes, don't worry, Manuel. I'll leave it there." Blake released the brake, stepped on the accelerator, and the truck jerked away from the hotel, the gears whining ominously. "That's if we get that far," he muttered as they rolled down the street in a series of neck-snapping stops and starts.

As they picked up speed, the truck seemed to shake itself free and by the time they'd left Mazatal behind, they were moving along at a steady pace with only an occasional rumble and jolt to remind them of the vehicle's age. But a new sound had been added, a musical tinkling that came from beneath the seat. Elena reached down and felt along the floor, and her fingers closed on a bottle.

"Tequila
," she said, holding it out for Blake to see.

His lips curved upward as the tinkling sounds continued. "Several bottles, from the sound of it. Manuel's private stock, I guess. He's going to be mad as hell when he realizes he forgot it."

Elena returned the bottle to the cache beneath her seat and cleared her throat. "The—uh—the truck runs pretty well," she said carefully.

He nodded. "Yeah."

Silence stretched between them.

"How far does this road go?"

"Manuel says it crosses the border just past Galindo."

She waited for him to say something more, but he didn't. They were leaving the valley now, beginning the climb into the Mountains of the Moon. Dark forest stood on either side of the narrow road as it curved its way upward. The gears squealed and grated as Blake changed down, and the engine began to labor, as if such hard work were more than it could handle. But Elena was aware only of the tension-filled atmosphere. She glanced at Blake, silently willing him to say something. When he didn't, she cleared her throat.

"How far is it from Galindo to the border?"

"An hour's walk, according to Manuel. We had quite a chat in the
cantina
last night." He gave her a hard, quick glance. "I didn't feel much like sleeping."

Elena felt color rise to her cheeks. "Blake," she said quickly, "about last night..."

"What about it?"

"I... I'd like to explain..."

"You don't owe me any explanations."

"But I do. I..."

"You don't have to worry. Our deal's still on. I'll get you to Miami."

"I never thought you wouldn't. I...I was just thinking of how much better we'd been getting along, and..."

"Listen," he said sharply, "stop trying to dance around it. We made a mistake, that's all. We were both tired, we'd had some wine..." He glanced at her and then away. "That's the way it was, wasn't it?"

No, she thought, no that's not the way it was for me... But admitting that would only make things more confused than they already were.

"Yes," she said stiffly, "that's the way it was."

"
Exactly.” He rubbed the back of his neck. "Like I said, forget it. We've got a long, hard day facing us."

"Right." Elena waited for a few minutes, but he said nothing more and the silence began to pool around them again. She ran her tongue over dry lips. "It's not as hot as yesterday, is it? But then, it's almost the rainy season. This morning, I thought I smelled rain in the air, and..."

Blake changed gears as the grade steepened. "Why don't you get some rest?" he said abruptly. "We've got a long drive ahead."

...
and I don't want to hear you babbling like a fool.
He hadn't said it, but he might as well have. Elena blinked back a sudden prickle of tears.

"Good idea," she said in a voice that gave away nothing. "Wake me when we get to Galindo."

She lay her head back against the ripped upholstery and turned away, staring out at the dark jungle without actually seeing it.

Blake was right. It was better to pretend she was asleep than to go through hours of stilted conversation. Besides, if she kept talking, sooner or later she'd end up trying to explain why she'd run from him last night, and she couldn't very well do that, not when she didn't really understand the reason herself.

What she had to do was think about something else. Think about... about the art gallery. Or Jeremy. He'd be glad to see her. She'd phone him first thing, right after she phoned her father. Elena blinked her eyes. Was her father safe? She hoped he—

The truck braked, hard and fast, catapulting her forward.  Blake threw his arm across her before she could crack her head. The acrid smell of burned rubber filled the air as the  truck came to a bone-jarring halt.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm not sure," he muttered. "There's a downed tree across the road, just around that curve, see it? Where the road goes through that ravine."

Elena nodded. She could see only a piece of the trunk but it was enough to make her heart sink.

"It must have come down during a storm—it looks awfully big. I hope we'll be able to move it."

Blake reached for the door handle. "I'll take a look."

"I'll come with you. Maybe..."

His hand closed over hers as she reached for the door. "No," he said sharply. "You stay here and keep your eyes and ears open."

The skin along the back of her neck prickled. "But Blake..."

He gave her a quick smile. "I'll check things out. It's probably nothing more than it seems to be."

Her throat had gone dry. "And if it isn't?"

Blake's eyes met hers. "If it isn't, I want you to get out of this truck and run like hell. You'd never be able to turn the truck on a road this narrow."

"You think it's trouble, don't you? Tell me the truth! I have a right to know."

"I just want to be sure, that's all. Hell, trees fall all the time, Princess."

Her eyes searched his. "You're lying," she whispered. "I know it."

"Just sit tight and watch me. If I spot anything funny—that's
if,
Princess—I'll just come on back here and we'll figure another way to get to Galindo."

"Blake, please, let's just go back now. We can..."

His fingers curled tightly around hers. "But, if something does happen, remember what I said. Get out of here fast. And don't look back."

Fear had turned her tongue to cotton. "I won't leave you," she whispered.

The sudden bite of his hand made her wince.

"You will do as I say, Elena," he said sharply. "Remember our deal."

"I don't care about our deal," she said desperately. "I just don't want anything to happen to you. I..."

His sudden, passionate kiss silenced her. His hand clasped the back of her head, closing tightly on a handful of silky hair as his lips took hers. When he raised his head, his eyes were dark.

"I'll be back," he whispered.

"Blake, don't..."

Hasta luego
,
Princess."

He was out of the truck before she could answer. Her heart pounded as she sat on the edge of the seat, watching as he moved up the road slowly and carefully, pausing now and then to sniff the air like a jaguar stalking its prey. Suddenly, he stepped to the side of the road and clambered up the slope. Elena held her breath as he stopped mid-way to the top and looked towards the rocky walls that rose on either side of the downed tree. Slowly, her pent-up breath began to hiss from between her open lips. Everything was fine; the forest was still silent. She smiled and put her hand on the door—when a piercing cry rent the air.

Men leaped out from behind boulders and trees at the top of the ravine. Elena shrank back in her seat.

"Run," she whispered. Almost as if he'd heard the plea, Blake began to scramble down the slope. But it was useless. The men were on him like wolves on a deer, and they dragged him to the ground.

"No," she whimpered, putting her hand to her mouth, "no, please!"

She
wrenched the door open and stumbled out of the truck. Quickly, she began to run back along the road. How long would it take her to get to Mazatal? They'd driven for two hours, maybe more. Dear God, it would take her many times that to get back.

Her breath puffed in and out of her lungs.