It was almost noon the next day when they approached Pucuro. Jack ordered Lorraine belowdecks long before they reached the harbor. He didn’t want to take the slightest chance of anyone’s seeing her. He hadn’t come right out and said it, but Pucuro was full of cutthroats and thieves. However, it was either stop here or waste another day searching for some other little out-of-the-way port.
“Jack?” Lorraine stood on the steps below, the wind tousling her hair. Jack was hard-pressed to remember any woman looking more beautiful than she did right then.
“What?” He made himself sound short-tempered.
“Would it be possible…for you to pick me up a few clothes while you’re in town?”
“Any particular color?”
“Yellow’s my favorite.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you.” She disappeared, closing the door behind her.
Jack maneuvered the boat toward the docks, which were old and ramshackle. A number of small boats were tied up there. He noticed a couple of disreputable-looking young men who studied him as though trying to estimate how easy it would be to take him on. Jack met their stares until both glanced away. An edgy feeling came over him as they hurriedly left.
With no one in the vicinity to hear, Jack knocked lightly on the bulkhead and told Lorraine, “I’m going now.”
“Be quick, okay?”
“Like I said, I shouldn’t be more than thirty minutes.” He was well aware how uncomfortable it was for her belowdecks. Soon it would be stifling.
He was about to leave, then decided to give her one last warning. “You need to be quiet.”
“I know that. Just go, okay?”
He hesitated. The feeling was back, and experience had taught him not to ignore his gut. Unfortunately he had to go into town; there were few other alternatives. It’d been many hours since they’d eaten and they couldn’t go much longer without supplies.
“Is something wrong?” Lorraine’s loud whisper came up from below.
“Not a thing. Just sit tight.” He didn’t like leaving her, but he had no choice. “One final reminder. Don’t fire the gun unless it’s absolutely necessary. Understand?” The last thing he needed was her using it as a signal to remind him to pick up coffee.
When he’d jumped onto the wharf, Jack had to watch where he stepped. The wood had rotted in quite a few places. As quickly as he could, he headed in the direction of the town’s only store. Supplies were outrageously priced, but for once Jack wasn’t going to quibble. He wanted in and out of Pucuro, no questions asked.
It went without saying that he wasn’t fond of the town. His first and only visit to Pucuro, a number of years ago, had nearly gotten him killed. He’d been part of Deliverance Company, and Murphy had sent him on a fact-finding mission. Fool that he was, Jack had gotten the information he needed, then lingered in the cantina. That had been his first mistake.
He’d decided to stay for a glass of beer when he noticed a woman across the room. The look she gave him wasn’t unfamiliar. She was interested and frankly, after several months of celibacy, so was he. Cain had insisted that when his men were on a mission, they keep their pants zipped. Only Cain wasn’t in charge anymore, Murphy was. Jack had made a classic mistake. He’d gone home with the pretty señorita.
Not until it was too late did he realize he’d walked into a trap.
Jack shook his head, hoping to rid himself of the memory, although he carried the scars of that mistake on his body. By the time Deliverance Company found him, he was half-dead. The half that was still alive wasn’t pleased.
Now he kept his eyes focused straight ahead, talked to no one and hurried down the dirt road to the store. He finished buying his supplies in record time and paid an exorbitant amount to make sure they were immediately loaded onto the boat. That done, he walked into town to visit the open-air market. Instead of purchasing clothes that were expressly female, he bought a couple of shirts and a pair of cotton pants. He had to guess at size.
Jack was beginning to feel downright smug. Perhaps Lorraine was right and he was overreacting. The entire venture had taken all of fifteen minutes. He was walking back to the waterfront when a youngster of seven or eight raced to his side.
“Señor,” he said, looking up at Jack with wide brown eyes. “Your lady friend sent me to find you.” He spoke in Spanish.
“What?” Jack was going to kill Lorraine with his bare hands.
“She needs you.”
“She’s going to need me, all right,” he muttered.
“Come, I’ll take you to her.” The boy slipped his hand in Jack’s. “This way,” he said, steering Jack down a narrow lane.
One request—stay put. That was all he’d asked of her. The woman couldn’t follow the simplest instruction. By the time he got through with her, she’d— His thoughts came to an abrupt halt.
The sensation he’d experienced earlier—the bad feeling—returned. Except that it was far stronger than before.
Slowly, with care, Jack turned around.
Carlos stood at the far end of the street. “Hello, amigo. We meet again.”
Nine
The heat belowdecks was intolerable, but Lorraine was determined to prove to Jack that she was capable of following instructions. Under no circumstances was she to leave the boat; he’d made her promise. Not that he had anything to worry about. Lorraine had learned her lesson in La Ruta Maya.
Despite the heat and discomfort, she would prove to him once and for all that she was a woman of her word.
The waiting was as unbearable as the suffocating heat. The first hour was the worst, holed up in this tomb with only her thoughts to occupy her—and those were of little comfort. Her mother had lived a lie and her father… Lorraine didn’t know what to think. She felt angry every time she recalled how he’d passed off the Mayan woman as his housekeeper. When she wasn’t brooding about her parents and the mistakes they’d made, her thoughts took a natural path to Gary. Their relationship had undergone a change in the weeks since her mother’s funeral. Gary sensed it, too.
Lorraine loved him, planned to marry him, but after her mother died, all she’d wanted was to be alone. Gary had yearned to comfort her; he’d wanted her to need him. She hadn’t.
Then there was this awful attraction she felt for Jack. Of all the things tormenting her right now, that was perhaps the worst. Her face burned with humiliation as she remembered flaunting herself in front of him. Not since high school had she worked that hard to get a member of the opposite sex to notice her.
She glanced at her watch. The waiting seemed to go on forever and she felt listless and weak. Jack had promised he’d be quick. Thirty minutes. Wasn’t that what he’d said?
Then it occurred to her that something had happened to him. He’d been gone well over an hour at this point, despite his insistence that Pucuro wasn’t a port where he was inclined to linger. She imagined all the horrible possibilities—he’d been attacked, accidentally injured, arrested—until she was convinced something had gone dreadfully wrong.
Then it occurred to her that maybe Jack wasn’t coming back at all. He didn’t like her. He’d let her know it, too. Nor had he restrained himself from telling her, at every conceivable opportunity, that he considered her a pain in the butt.
Even now, she remembered his look of disdain when her father had brought her down to the waterfront. His attitude hadn’t changed much.
No, she mused, reasoning away the fear. Jack might want to abandon her, but he wouldn’t leave his boat. He’d be back. Unless—her imagination kicked in again—unless he’d run into trouble.
The panic rose in the back of her throat, nearly choking off her breath. If something had gone wrong, he might need her help. Not knowing what to do, she paced his cramped living quarters, more convinced with every passing minute that she needed to take some sort of action on his behalf.
Her hand was on the door, ready to pull it open, when she came up with yet another possibility. This might be a test to prove that she could be trusted. It’d be just like him to force her to demonstrate her dependability. For all she knew, he could be sitting on the wharf this very minute, waiting to see how long she’d keep her promise.
Well, if he wanted proof, she’d darn well give it to him.
Determined not to act on her instincts, she sat back down. Hell could freeze over before she’d leave this boat.
Her determination lasted all of ten minutes.
Fears followed doubts, and with the doubts came questions. How long should she wait for Jack to return? What if she passed out in the heat? What if he was injured and had no way of letting her know? Maybe he was in jail. Or the morgue. The inventory of less-than-comforting possibilities began to mount again.
Just when Lorraine was sure she’d go mad, she heard voices. Faint at first, then louder and more distinct. Listening carefully, she realized there were two, possibly three men, speaking in Spanish. They were on the dock right next to the boat. A minute later the boat tilted and there was the sound of footsteps on the boat itself.
Could Jack be with them?
She was about to call up and ask, then remembered that Jack had specifically told her to stay belowdecks until he personally came for her. Then and only then was she to show herself.
She couldn’t tell exactly how many people were on the boat—two men or three. It was difficult to distinguish voices. Two seemed to do most of the talking, but she thought she’d heard three separate sets of footsteps. The two who did the talking were having some kind of argument.
The door leading belowdecks rattled. Lorraine froze and thanked God she’d had the sense to lock it earlier.
The argument escalated. The men argued back and forth, but as far as she could tell nothing had been decided.
She continued to listen and to wait. There was movement above; the boat swayed repeatedly as the men climbed on and off. She heard boxes or containers set down heavily—they must be carrying the supplies on board. One question remained, though: Where had Jack gone?
Then there was silence, but she didn’t think they’d left the boat. Her breathing grew shallow as she listened intently. After a while, she heard bottles being opened. They’d probably found Jack’s stash of beer and were helping themselves.
The boat pitched sharply to one side as the men clambered off and trudged down the dock. Their loud boisterous voices slowly faded.
Lorraine wasn’t sure which was worse—not knowing what had happened to Jack or the waiting. Feeling weak and disoriented, she laid her head down on the table and closed her eyes.
She might have drifted off to sleep, but she didn’t think so. The next thing she heard was footsteps. A single pair this time.
Jack.
She bolted upright as relief rushed through her. Everything was fine. He was back. Almost immediately her exhilaration turned to anger. Keeping her waiting like this had been a rotten thing to do. He’d done it on purpose, too; she just knew it. He was punishing her for what had happened in La Ruta Maya.
Well, she had every intention of letting him know exactly what she thought of that. By the time she finished with him, he’d be more than happy to get rid of her—but no happier than she was to get rid of him.