Solitaire (26 page)

Gangue, or worthless material, was now being pried off the walls at the end of the tunnel. Cat had discovered a limestone vein bearing calcite yesterday and everyone’s hopes had risen to almost a fever pitch. Every shift worker who entered the mine worked in silent tension as he walked the distance of the adit to where the vein was located. There was little talking as sweating men, stripped to their waists, worked. Crowbars in gloved hands, they carefully began to chip away at the vein, searching for green fire.

Cat felt excitement thrumming through the Verde as she checked the next set of posts, stulls and rock bolts. She slid her fingers across the limestone surface of the manging wall. From all appearances, as they went deeper, following the vein, the walls would strengthen, because the rock was more compact. That was good, since they needed all the help they could get from possible earth tremors.

It was nearly 1:00 a.m. when Cat left her shack and drove back down to base camp to call it a night. Everywhere she looked, the garish flood lamps lit up the blackness. Diesel-fueled generators ceaselessly supplied the necessary light so the graveyard shift could work throughout the night, hunting for emeralds in the open-pit area. Cat dropped off her two guards at their camp and swung the Jeep down the rutted road to their private camp that stood an eighth of a mile away.

Slade was standing by the fire beside Alvin while he stirred one of many kettles. He saw Cat’s Jeep approaching when suddenly, out of the jungle, four shadowy shapes emerged behind the Jeep. Cold terror raced through him and he raised his hand to warn Cat. Too late! He saw the guaqueros leap into the rear of the vehicle. The first held the blade of a knife against her ribs. Slade took two steps forward, his hand moving to his pistol.

“Now,” El Tigre breathed close to Cat’s left ear, “you will continue toward the encampment.” He took her pistol and handed it to one of his other men. With an icy smile, he pressed the point of the blade a little more firmly against her ribs.
“Comprende?”

Cat kept her booted feet down on the brake and clutch.
“Si…”

“
Bueno
. Drive slowly, now.”

Cat nearly gagged on the sour smell that assailed her nostrils as El Tigre leaned over the seat, his body pressed against her back and left shoulder. Her heart pounded heavily and she wondered who he wanted. Slade? Alvin? All of them? Cat saw several guards running down toward the camp and Slade’s tall figure silhouetted against the fire. As they drove within twenty feet of the camp, El Tigre hissed, “Halt!”

Slade saw the guaquero take the black-bladed knife and press it to Cat’s slender throat. The vicious blade looked stark against the whiteness of her flesh. His fingers wrapped around the pistol’s handle.

“Whatever you want, you can have,” Slade shouted to them in Spanish, “just let her go.”

“
Señor!
I am El Tigre. Your woman here has met me before. Come!”

Slade’s eyes narrowed and he barely turned his head to Alvin, who was standing there scowling.

“Follow us, if you can,” Slade growled over his shoulder and then walked quickly toward the Jeep. He saw Cat’s eyes widen as she sat frozen in the Jeep. Anger coursed through Slade as he saw El Tigre press the blade even more against her flesh.

“Stop there,
Señor
,” El Tigre commanded. He grinned tightly. “You are the geologist,
si
?”

“Si.”

With a chuckle, El Tigre glanced down at Cat. “Your woman led us to believe you were in Texas. She is wily like a jaguar. But we wait and we watch. We see you out in the pit every day. If there is an emerald find, you are always called. Not her, not the gringo with the white hair. But you.”

Slade held Cat’s frightened gaze. “What do you want?” he ground out.

“Both of you. Come, sit here in the jeep.” El Tigre’s eyes glittered. “One wrong move and she is dead,
Señor
. Watch.”

Cat felt the razor-edged blade sink into her flesh. Her eyes bulged and her breath lodged in her throat as she felt the trickling warmth of blood running down her neck, soaking into her shirt. She closed her eyes, fighting off sudden faintness. Slade’s savage curse startled her.

“That’s enough!”

El Tigre smiled mirthlessly, easing the pressure on the knife. “Enough for now,
Señor
. This blade has killed many. It doesn’t care whether it’s a man or woman. Nor do I. Now, drop your holster and pistol at your feet, then join us. And warn your men that if they try to shoot at us when we leave or try to follow, your woman will breathe her last gulp of air through her windpipe.”

Slade slowly unbuckled the holster, letting it drop around his feet. He turned toward Alvin, telling him of El Tigre’s orders. Immediately, all the guards lowered their rifles. Slade made his way to the Jeep and halted in front of it.

“Why don’t you put that blade on me instead of her?”

“I think not,
Señor
. No more talk! Get in!”

The moment Slade slid into the passenger seat, one of the guaqueros came forward. He immediately bound Slade’s wrists with hemp rope. Satisfied, El Tigre eased the knife from Cat’s throat.

“Drive,
señorita
. Turn around and take the road leading back toward Muzo.”

Cat’s mind spun with options and possibilities. She jammed the Jeep into gear and they headed out of the well-lit area, swallowed up by the shadowy jungle on both sides of the narrow, bumpy road. As soon as they were out of sight of the Verde, El Tigre relaxed, laughing.

“
Aiyeee, compadres!
I told you how easy it would be to capture them.”

Thomas, his second-in-command, whose weapon was trained on Slade’s back, nodded, a half smile on his mouth. The other two men cheered in unison, waving their weapons above their heads.

El Tigre rubbed Cat’s right shoulder in a provocative motion, his dirty fingers trailing down her arm to the elbow. Cat jerked her arm away.

“Leave me alone!”

“This one has claws,” the leader crowed.

Slade turned, his eyes a deadly black color, settling on the bandit. “You lay another hand on her, and you’ll answer to me.”

El Tigre smiled slowly. “You’ll talk to me anyway,
Señor
. You will tell us where you keep all those emeralds you’re finding. If they are in a safe, you will give me the combination.”

“Over my dead body.”

With a chuckle, El Tigre pointed to Cat. “No,
Señor
, over her dead body. She is how you say it, insurance? If you do not talk, she will die an inch at time.”

Cat’s skin crawled over the frigid tone in El Tigre’s voice. He meant business. The twin beams of light from the Jeep stabbed through the darkness. There was no moon as they drove on, mile after mile, the blackness embracing them until Cat thought she was back in a caved-in mine once again. They had to escape! If El Tigre got them to his camp, they were as good as dead. She didn’t dare look at Slade or the guaqueros might suspect something. Her mind raced to remember the road back to Muzo. Right now, they were climbing steadily out of the valley. Soon, they would be following the nose line of several ridges before dropping into the Gato Valley. Slade’s hands were tied in front of him. Grimly, Cat wiped the sweat stinging her eyes.

Slade braced himself as Cat pressed down the accelerator once they had bridged the hill. The road was rocky and rutted. What the hell was she doing speeding up like this at this time of night? Didn’t she know there was a series of sharp S-turns up ahead? The gravelly surface of the road would make the Jeep slide if she took them too fast. Slade glanced at Cat. Her face was grim and barely outlined by the dashboard lights. Then, realizing what she was going to do, he almost smiled. In those split seconds before they raced down on the first set of curves, Slade promised himself that if they escaped this with their lives, he’d tell Cat how much he loved her.

“Slow down!” El Tigre shrieked in her ear, pounding her right shoulder sharply with his fist.

Cat winced as his knotted fist struck her twice with hard, well-aimed blows. The lights from the vehicle outlined the first turn. She jammed her boot down on the accelerator. The Jeep lurched forward, careening toward the first curve. El Tigre cursed and was thrown backward. He fell into the two men who sat squeezed in the back, and Cat wrenched the nose of the Jeep toward the cliff. One man tumbled over the side, the gun flying out of his hand. Another fell off with a scream. For terrifying seconds, the Jeep slid sideways and then, as Cat wrenched the wheel back to the left, the heavily treaded tires screamed in protest.

“Jump, Slade!”

Everything was a blur as Slade threw himself out of the Jeep. He struck the road with his left shoulder, rolling instinctively into a ball to lessen the shocking impact. Flesh was torn from him, but he felt little pain. He heard the vehicle roar off the road, sudden silence, and then a crash as the Jeep smashed and tumbled down the steep cliff. Cat! Where was Cat?

Drunkenly, Slade got to his feet, searching the choking dust and darkness. He stumbled across unconscious guaqueros. Nearby was a rifle. He picked it up. Had everyone else gone over with the Jeep? Where was she–

“Slade!”

He jerked to the left, crouching. Cat was running toward him, her face smudged with dirt, her blouse ripped and bloodied. Both had paid dearly for landing in the gravel. Her fingers closed around his arm.

“Come on!” she gasped.

“Where are the–”

“Two went over the cliff with the Jeep,” she sobbed. “Come on, we’ve got to get away! Give me the rifle.”

There was no time to stop and untie his wrists. Slade nodded and they took off at a dead run down the road, heading back for the Verde camp they had left at least ten miles behind. Every once in a while, Cat would look back. The rifle’s safety was off and she held it close, ready to fire if necessary. After running a mile they were both gasping and gulping for air. Slade angled them off the road and into the foliage of the jungle.

“Come here,” he panted, holding out his hands toward her. “Get these ropes off me.”

Cat came and crouched at his side. She set the rifle nearby and shakily began to untie the knots. “I–I think we’re safe.”

“Don’t count on it,” Slade said grimly, sweat streaking down his dirty, bloody face. “Those bastards have nine lives.”

She grinned tightly, the adrenaline high, keeping her mind sharp as a steel trap. “So do we. There.”

Slade rubbed his raw wrists tenderly. Then he turned his attention to Cat. “How are you?”

“Cuts, bruises…nothing that won’t heal. I’m just scared spitless.”

His grin was wobbly. “Makes two of us. All right, come on. Those four guaqueros, or whoever is left, won’t let us go easily. We’ve got to make it back to camp or–”

Cat stood, nervously watching the dark road, expecting to see shadowy shapes emerge from it at any moment. “I know. Here, you take the rifle. I’m not sure I could shoot straight if I had to. My hands are shaking like leaves.”

With a nod, Slade guided her over the bank of the road. “You run in front of me. Keep your eyes peeled and ears open. If you hear anything, signal me. Don’t talk. We can’t afford to make any more noise than necessary.”

The construction boots felt like lead on Cat’s feet. She wasn’t in the world’s greatest shape, but not the worst, either. After jogging another two miles, she had to ask Slade to halt. Her throat was burning and her lungs felt ready to burst. They found sanctuary in a banana-tree grove, the huge, long fronds covering them so they couldn’t be seen from the road. Slade knelt near her, his concentration aimed behind them. Cat felt safe, falling back against the trunk of a tree, taking huge gulps of air.

“You–never told me about this, Donovan.”

Slade wiped his face, glancing over at Cat. “I told you it would be rough. This is the Dodge City of the eighties. It’s wide open, and the only law is the gun you carry. You let it do the talking for you.”

“I’m demanding hazardous-duty pay,” she whispered, finally sitting up.

Slade reached out and gripped her hand, squeezing it gently. “If you’ve accidentally killed El Tigre, you’ve got a hundred-thousand-peso reward coming from the Muzo mine. Is that enough?”

Cat shivered, suddenly cold. The adrenaline that had given her the courage to deliberately wreck the Jeep and leap from it deserted her. Miserably, she shook her head. “I hope I didn’t kill him…”

A flat snort came from Slade. “I do. That bastard was going to kill us.”

She believed him, but it still didn’t make her feel any better that she had possibly killed one or more men. Slade got up, bringing her to her feet. Cat felt dizzy and leaned against him.

“All right?” Slade asked huskily, pressing a kiss to her dusty hair.

“Yes…I’m whipped.”

“Adrenaline letdown. We’ll jog, walk, jog. We can’t afford to dally.”

The fifteen-minute rest hadn’t been a good idea after all, Cat discovered. Every bone and socket in her body was beginning to ache in earnest. The scrapes on her arms and shoulder smarted. The boots she wore felt like twenty-pound weights on each foot. Lift them up, put them down, she instructed herself.

Five miles had fallen away under their jog-and-walk routine. Slade kept looking back, never dropping his guard. Cat kept angling toward the center of the road, where it was less rutted. He kept pulling her back, forcing her to walk on the side where it was hard to maintain a balance. If they had to dive for cover, Slade wanted to get into the jungle with one leap. He didn’t try to explain to her, realizing Cat was close to exhaustion.

The bark of a rifle silenced the jungle sounds around them. Slade cursed, throwing his full weight forward, landing on top of Cat. They hit the ground hard and he rolled them into the foliage. More bullets spit up geysers where they had stood seconds before. Slade threw Cat off him, scrambled to his knees and hid behind a trumpet tree, both hands on the rifle. There! He saw the figures of two men weaving steadily toward them.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. He jerked around to look at Cat. She was lying nearby, the breath knocked out of her. “Cat!” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Get up! Hurry!”