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Authors: Anne Stuart
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believe him?”
“Isn’t that why we came here? Why you were with him? To find out where Stella is? Well, he told us.”
“He certainly did,” Frazer said in a grim voice. “We’ll head into the mountains. Fair warning, though—the roads aren’t nearly as good as the ones we traveled on today.”
“Those were good roads?”
“San Pablo’s finest highways,” he lied. “Go to sleep, Maggie. I promise not to wake you when I come in.”
She sure as hell didn’t like that idea, though he wasn’t sure what was bothering her. Whether it was going up there alone or the knowledge that he was going to be joining her.
She had nothing to fear from him. He wasn’t going to touch her again, no matter how tempting. He glanced over at Elena, wondering whether she might be interested in a little distraction for old time’s sake. He doubted it.
He looked at Maggie’s cute little butt disappearing up the stairs. It was going to be a long, hard night.
In more ways than one.
* * *
T HE MAN SLIPPED OUT of the crowded bar, humming softly under his breath. He owed Salazar a debt for this one, though Salazar had no idea he’d been there in the shadows, watching, listening. No one had thought to look closely at the old man drinking whiskey and smoking cigarettes, no one had wondered how he’d gotten in there.
Part of his stock in trade. He could wander in anywhere, and no one would notice. Not even Salazar, who had half a dozen armed guards watching over him at every moment.
He could have succeeded where a dozen others had failed, killed Salazar and been gone before anyone realized what happened. But he had no reason to kill him. Not unless someone paid him. El Gallito Loco didn’t waste his talents for free.
Still, he’d warned Frazer, and El Gallito could have done without that. Not that Frazer was any match for him. Maybe once, long ago, he’d gotten the better of him. Or, to be completely accurate, twice. But it wouldn’t happen again. El Gallito was on his guard, and Frazer was distracted by the girl.
They were heading up into the mountains, and somewhere in that rough terrain was the headquarters of Ramon Morales de Lorca y Antonio, known affectionately as The Professor because of his studious looks and learned manner. And if Frazer thought he wasn’t going to end up taking the girl there, then El Gallito would set him straight.
Two days before the elections were done with, two days to finish with The Professor and ensure the
Generalissimo’s
future. And his own.
It could be done. It would be done. Or El Gallito would die trying.
* * *
M AGGIE OPENED HER EYES slowly, the heat of the room pressing down around her. It was still dark, the bed was a hollowed-out nest beneath her and she wasn’t alone.
She stretched out a hand, very tentative, but there was no one on the right side of the bed. She moved her foot to the left, but still nothing.
And then she realized that her head was about to explode.
The moan that slid from her throat was unconscious and heartfelt. It wasn’t fair! She’d had one single bottle of beer and she had a merciless hangover. Her mouth tasted like cotton, her head pounded and she felt as if she’d been dragged along the ragged length of San Pablo. Which, in fact, she had.
A disembodied voice floated out of the darkness. “You can’t be feeling that bad. Elena said you only had one beer and you got to sleep in the bed. I had too much whiskey and a mattress on the floor and I’m feeling quite chipper.”
Maggie rolled over onto her stomach and moaned into the pillow. “Do you have to be so damned perky?” she groaned. “I wake up slowly.”
“Perky’s my middle name. And you don’t have the luxury of lying around, bright eyes. We’d better get the hell out of here before Salazar decides he’s not too old for you.”
He’d come to stand by the bed, looming over her, but she wasn’t about to look at him. “I need a shower,” she muttered into the
“Isn’t that why we came here? Why you were with him? To find out where Stella is? Well, he told us.”
“He certainly did,” Frazer said in a grim voice. “We’ll head into the mountains. Fair warning, though—the roads aren’t nearly as good as the ones we traveled on today.”
“Those were good roads?”
“San Pablo’s finest highways,” he lied. “Go to sleep, Maggie. I promise not to wake you when I come in.”
She sure as hell didn’t like that idea, though he wasn’t sure what was bothering her. Whether it was going up there alone or the knowledge that he was going to be joining her.
She had nothing to fear from him. He wasn’t going to touch her again, no matter how tempting. He glanced over at Elena, wondering whether she might be interested in a little distraction for old time’s sake. He doubted it.
He looked at Maggie’s cute little butt disappearing up the stairs. It was going to be a long, hard night.
In more ways than one.
* * *
T HE MAN SLIPPED OUT of the crowded bar, humming softly under his breath. He owed Salazar a debt for this one, though Salazar had no idea he’d been there in the shadows, watching, listening. No one had thought to look closely at the old man drinking whiskey and smoking cigarettes, no one had wondered how he’d gotten in there.
Part of his stock in trade. He could wander in anywhere, and no one would notice. Not even Salazar, who had half a dozen armed guards watching over him at every moment.
He could have succeeded where a dozen others had failed, killed Salazar and been gone before anyone realized what happened. But he had no reason to kill him. Not unless someone paid him. El Gallito Loco didn’t waste his talents for free.
Still, he’d warned Frazer, and El Gallito could have done without that. Not that Frazer was any match for him. Maybe once, long ago, he’d gotten the better of him. Or, to be completely accurate, twice. But it wouldn’t happen again. El Gallito was on his guard, and Frazer was distracted by the girl.
They were heading up into the mountains, and somewhere in that rough terrain was the headquarters of Ramon Morales de Lorca y Antonio, known affectionately as The Professor because of his studious looks and learned manner. And if Frazer thought he wasn’t going to end up taking the girl there, then El Gallito would set him straight.
Two days before the elections were done with, two days to finish with The Professor and ensure the
Generalissimo’s
future. And his own.
It could be done. It would be done. Or El Gallito would die trying.
* * *
M AGGIE OPENED HER EYES slowly, the heat of the room pressing down around her. It was still dark, the bed was a hollowed-out nest beneath her and she wasn’t alone.
She stretched out a hand, very tentative, but there was no one on the right side of the bed. She moved her foot to the left, but still nothing.
And then she realized that her head was about to explode.
The moan that slid from her throat was unconscious and heartfelt. It wasn’t fair! She’d had one single bottle of beer and she had a merciless hangover. Her mouth tasted like cotton, her head pounded and she felt as if she’d been dragged along the ragged length of San Pablo. Which, in fact, she had.
A disembodied voice floated out of the darkness. “You can’t be feeling that bad. Elena said you only had one beer and you got to sleep in the bed. I had too much whiskey and a mattress on the floor and I’m feeling quite chipper.”
Maggie rolled over onto her stomach and moaned into the pillow. “Do you have to be so damned perky?” she groaned. “I wake up slowly.”
“Perky’s my middle name. And you don’t have the luxury of lying around, bright eyes. We’d better get the hell out of here before Salazar decides he’s not too old for you.”
He’d come to stand by the bed, looming over her, but she wasn’t about to look at him. “I need a shower,” she muttered into the
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