Sooner or Later Page 9

  “A plumber.” Something was wrong. The Marcie he remembered would be bored to tears with a man named Clifford Cramden. It didn’t add up.

  “Is he the jealous type?” Keller asked, helping himself to a kitchen chair.

  “Clifford?” She raised questioning eyes to his. “I don’t know. I’ve never given him any reason to be jealous.”

  No reason to be jealous? Marcie?

  “Do you think he’d mind if I took you to dinner to thank you for your bailing me out of jail?”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” Keller insisted, sounding as sincere as he could. “If you think it would help, I’ll contact your boyfriend myself and explain. The last thing I’d want is a misunderstanding between you two.”

  Marcie lowered her lashes, and it was clear she was tempted.

  “The Cattleman’s Place,” he said, mentioning the most expensive steakhouse in town.

  Her pretty eyes met his. “I’ve always wanted to have dinner there.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that a plumber wasn’t likely to be able to afford it.

  “How about it, Marcie? Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at six.”

  She closed her eyes, shook her head, and answered hurriedly. “I can’t.”

  “The next night, then,” he pressed, unwilling to drop it. “If that doesn’t work, then you choose the day and time.”

  A long moment passed before she spoke. “Saturday?” The lone word was breathless, as if she weren’t sure even now if she should.

  “Saturday it is,” he said cheerfully, feeling as if he’d won a decisive battle. “I’ll be by for you at six.”

  “Just between friends,” she said, her eyes holding his.

  “Of course,” he lied. But then friends made the very best lovers.

  13

  Night had settled over Zarcero, and Letty would have been lost completely if not for the village lights that gleamed in the distance like small beacons, guiding her. She made her way down the steep incline into the town as carefully as she could, fearing she might lose her balance with each step. Intermittent bursts of gunfire could be heard in the distance.

  The moon and stars offered little in the way of illumination. As she drew closer to the town, she heard boisterous music and singing. It took a bit more time for her to make out the words of the raunchy song, and she blushed as she translated them. Apparently the civil unrest hadn’t disturbed the civilians as much as she’d assumed.

  Once she reached the outskirts of the town, Letty hid, to assess her options. She’d been traveling four or five hours at this point and had seen no trace of Murphy.

  He’d come for a vehicle and apparently hadn’t succeeded, which meant he’d probably been captured. She’d steal a car first and then find him. Although she knew next to nothing about cars and engines, she did hope that with a bit of patience and a hairpin in the ignition switch, she might coax an engine to life. She’d heard a credit card could open a locked door, and if that was true, then surely a hairpin could start a car.

  A number of vehicles would surely be parked outside the cantina. But stealing one of those and driving away undetected would be next to impossible. She had no choice but to scout around.

  Flattening herself against the side of an adobe building, Letty silently made her way down a deserted alley. Sweat broke out across her brow as she feared discovery. Perhaps she should wait…. After a moment she decided against it. She’d already wasted an entire day, fruitlessly anticipating Murphy’s return. She tried not to think what had happened to him or what those gunshots had meant.

  The thought he might have been killed produced a tightness in her chest, and she banished the worry from her mind. She’d go after Luke first, she decided, then return for Murphy.

  Once she’d had the opportunity to scout out the town, she’d weigh her options, make her choices, and move.

  The entire village appeared to be deserted except for the cantina. The music was growing louder and more boisterous.

  Eventually she was able to maneuver herself between two buildings and look out onto the main road that ran in front of the local bar. From the laughter and good cheer, one would never guess the country was in chaos.

  As Letty suspected, six or seven jeeps and a variety of dilapidated American cars thirty years or older were parked in front of the bar. Thus far they were the only vehicles she’d seen.

  The people inside didn’t seem to have a care in the world. The doors were wide open, and tables spilled into the streets. A number of women paraded around in tight-fitting skirts and low, elastic-style blouses. Some delivered drinks, others brazenly touted their wares and openly invited attention.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Letty watched as a soldier grabbed a woman’s waist and dragged her onto his lap. The young waitress squealed with delight before he slammed his mouth over hers. Soon the two were all over one another. The woman squirmed in the soldier’s lap and straddled his hips. Panting, she threw back her head, and he buried his face in her ample bosom. His hands cupped her full breasts as he licked and sucked at her neck.

  Letty was mesmerized, unable to make herself look away. The two were all but making love in full view of the entire cantina. Letty’s mouth felt dry, and she couldn’t understand why she found such a blatant display of sexual activity so fascinating.

  All at once it came to her.

  That wasn’t a soldier with the waitress. It was Murphy.

  The shock was enough to make Letty’s knees go out on her. With her back against the building, she slid to the ground until her buttocks landed in the hard dirt.

  Murphy. The dirty son of a bastard had left her to wait in the hot sun for hours on end while he was making love to a…a floozy.

  Rarely had Letty been more furious. All this time she’d fretted and stewed, certain he’d been captured or worse. The afternoon had been hell, worrying about him.

  She’d risked her life in an effort to find out what had happened to him. Anything might have befallen her as she’d made her way into the village. Not that Murphy would have cared. He’d have been grateful to have her out from under his hair.

  She’d made a drastic mistake trusting Murphy. The man had no morals. No decency. She hoped he died a slow, painful death. She relished the thought of him suffering.

  Her anger was enough to motivate her into action. Whereas before she’d been almost afraid to breathe for fear of discovery, now she moved freely from one building to the next, being sure to remain in the shadows. She was careful, very careful, but not stupid.

  Still uncertain about the odds of successfully stealing a jeep, she made her way to the far side of town, thinking that she’d hide in the church until the wee hours of the morning. By then the soldiers would be too drunk to realize what she was doing.

  As she neared the church, she heard the soft, almost soundless approach of someone behind her. Her blood ran cold. Fear was an amazing thing, she realized. Never had her thought processes been more clear.

  She waited until he was almost upon her before whirling around, thinking she would startle her stalker.

  To her shock Murphy stood almost directly behind her.

  “Murphy?” She nearly shouted his name in her surprise.

  He clamped his hand over her mouth and shoved her against the side of the church. “Just what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

  One aspect of soldiering Murphy had learned early in his career was that emotion was as much an enemy as a gun-toting revolutionary. Murphy went into a mission with no feelings, did what he was paid to do, and got the hell out in the most expedient manner possible. In all his years with Deliverance Company, he’d lived by those rules.

  Then he’d joined forces with one Letty Madden.

  Everything changed the minute he agreed to accompany the postmistress to Zarcero. She caused him to see red faster than anyone or anything he’d ever known.

  This latest esc
apade of hers, slipping down a dark alley in enemy territory, sticking out like a sore thumb, was a prime example. It didn’t matter how much the rebels had drunk, they were still soldiers. It was only a matter of time before she’d be discovered.

  Murphy had carefully bided his time, waiting for nightfall to make his move. He’d sat on the fringes of the cantina, in a “borrowed” rebel uniform, gathering valuable information. By the time he’d joined the rowdy assembly, most of the soldiers were three sheets to the wind. Carlotta, the shapely woman in his arms, had provided the perfect camouflage while he’d learned what he needed.

  Then out of nowhere Letty appeared, as obvious as a bull in a china shop. He’d damn near gone ballistic right then and there. She was fortunate he hadn’t done more than shove her up against the side of a building.

  She struggled and bit down on the fleshy part of his hand between his thumb and index finger. Hard. Murphy swallowed a yelp and pinched her jaw until she released him. Despite the pain, he continued to hold her captive.

  “Just what the hell are you trying to do, get us both killed?” he demanded. “I told you to wait for me.” As soon as he could reason clearly, he’d deal with the fact that she’d disobeyed a direct order.

  She pressed her hand against his chest and shoved, but he didn’t budge.

  “You dirty son of a—” She bit off the last word and glared at him with eyes that would have quelled a lesser man.

  “Me?” he muttered, not understanding her fury. “Listen, little sister, let’s get something straight right here and now. When I give an order it’s to be obeyed.”

  “You’ve given me your last order, buster.” She squirmed against him and would have done him injury had he not escaped her knee.

  Her fury caught Murphy off guard. What the hell did she have to be so mad about? It took him far longer than it should have to realize Letty had seen him with Carlotta. The waitress had been all over him, hawking her goods, looking for a few extra dollars on the side.

  “Let me go,” she insisted, her chest heaving. At another time, Murphy might have enjoyed having her squirm against him. But not when it put them both at risk.

  “Shut up before you get us both killed,” he said none too gently.

  Murphy relaxed his grip on her wrists, but only slightly. They needed to clear the air. Unfortunately they couldn’t do it in the alley with rebel soldiers partying across the street.

  “I’ll release you if you promise not to speak.” He waited for her acquiescence, which she gave grudgingly with one sharp nod of her head.

  Satisfied, Murphy wrapped his hand around her upper arm and half dragged her out the back side of the alley. He led the way out of the village, not stopping until he was confident they wouldn’t be heard.

  “I will not tolerate insubordination,” he said heatedly, the haze of his own anger only now beginning to fade.

  “You won’t have to,” she returned calmly. “You’re fired.”

  He was confident he’d misunderstood her. “Fired?”

  “I’ll find Luke without you.”

  Murphy couldn’t help it, he muffled a laugh. “Really?”

  “I absolve you from your duty.” She dismissed him with a dramatic wave of her hand, in an action befitting royalty.

  “Just how far do you think you’ll actually get before you’re discovered?”

  “Farther than I did today. How long did you intend to leave me baking in the sun while you and that…that woman were—”

  “That woman kept me from being discovered.” Letty seemed to conveniently forget he’d placed himself in considerable risk on her behalf.

  “I know exactly what that woman did for you,” Letty spat, disgust dripping from every word.

  Murphy didn’t need this, not after the day he’d had. If she wanted him off the mission, it was fine by him. As far as he could see, it was a waste of time anyway. “Great,” he returned. “Wonderful. I couldn’t be more pleased.” He turned and started to walk away.

  His mind buzzed with fury and outrage. After all he’d been through, this was the thanks he got. The woman was a candidate for a mental hospital. For that matter, so was he for ever having agreed to escort her to Zarcero.

  Well, he was finished. He washed his hands of her and her do-good brother. He didn’t need this kind of grief.

  He hadn’t taken two steps when she stopped him.

  “Wait.”

  It didn’t take her long to come to her senses, he noted, mildly pleased. She needed him, and rehiring him wasn’t going to be as easy as she seemed to think. He’d set a number of things straight. First off, she couldn’t follow the simplest instructions. One thing he wouldn’t tolerate was insubordination. Not from anyone, much less a fickle-hearted woman.

  He turned around to discover Letty kneeling on the ground, digging through her backpack. “I won’t be needing this,” she said, retrieving the .45. She held it between two fingers as if it were something dead she’d rather not touch.

  His weapon. She’d flustered him to the point he’d forgotten his single most valuable survival tool, the very one he’d voluntarily left behind for her protection.

  “Before you go,” she said, shoulders squared, “I want you to know I think you’re the most unprincipled, unscrupulous, immoral man I’ve ever met.”

  Murphy hitched his eyebrows up a notch and chuckled softly. “You mean to say it’s taken you this long to discover that?”

  She was seething.

  Murphy loved it. He’d done his duty, gone the extra mile. Extra mile, hell, he’d gone a whole lot farther than that. Letty Madden was on her own, and he couldn’t be more pleased.

  He tucked the gun inside his belt. “Good luck finding your brother.”

  “I don’t need luck,” she said, righteousness echoing like thunder from her lips. “God is with me.”

  “If that’s the case, I don’t know why you ever felt you needed me,” Murphy returned without malice.

  “Frankly, I don’t either.”

  With wide, determined strides, Murphy continued up the steep incline that led away from the small village. Without trouble he should be able to make his way back to the farmhouse that night. In the morning he’d talk to Juan and signal for Carlos. If everything went smoothly, he’d be in Boothill in two days’ time.

  14

  For reasons Luke would probably never know, the beatings had stopped. The pain was manageable now, and with this unexpected reprieve came the will to continue. For the first time since his capture, he found the strength to live.

  In the back of his mind, a hazy remembrance of Rosita’s visit haunted him. Had it been real? He no longer knew. For whatever reason, God had allowed her to come to him, whether in body or spirit, he didn’t know. Whichever form, Luke was grateful.

  Try as he might, he didn’t recall what she’d said, if indeed she had actually visited him.

  All he remembered was that in the worst of his pain, when the agony had been more than he could bear, she’d been there, smoothing his hair from his brow, whispering reassurances. He’d felt her love and her courage as powerfully as if she’d dressed his physical injuries.

  Luke’s heart swelled with love for the beautiful woman and the future he’d planned with her as his wife.

  When he’d been assigned Zarcero, Luke had been confident the Lord had sent him to the troubled Central American country for a specific reason. He’d been in Zarcero almost two years before he’d discovered what God had wanted to teach him.

  Love.

  Not for the gentle peasants who made up a large part of his ministry. His heart had been prepared to love and encourage them for years beforehand. That they had accepted and loved him in return had come as a bonus. The people of Zarcero had been both generous and gracious from the first.

  No, what God had sent him to Zarcero to learn was about the love a man has for a woman. What his parents might have shared at one time but had lost.

  Luke couldn’t remember the first time
he’d met Rosita. It wasn’t her beauty that stood out in his mind, although she was more lovely than words could adequately express.

  Each morning she walked her younger brother and sister to the mission school on her way to work at the market. He must have greeted her a hundred times before he truly noticed her the way a man notices a woman.

  This sudden awareness had taken him by surprise. Luke had dedicated his life to God’s work, and after his own parents’ miserable marriage, he’d decided to remain single.

  Mission work was frequently demanding, and he didn’t want to be forced to make the often difficult choice between the needs of his congregation and those of a family.

  Paul Madden had never completely recovered from the loss of his wife. He’d lived with doubts and regrets the remainder of his days.

  Luke’s father had loved his wife heart and soul, and when she’d abandoned him with two children for another man, he’d accepted the blame as if he were the one solely at fault. If only he’d been a better husband instead of a good minister. If only he’d paid more attention to his wife and less to his congregation. He’d never forgiven himself. Never remarried. Never chanced love a second time.

  Luke had vowed not to make the same mistake. Naturally he’d been tempted to fall in love. He was as human as the next man, and susceptible to the attention of attractive young women. There’d been any number who’d caught his eye.

  But never anyone like Rosita. She was good and kind, gentle and caring. He noticed how the people of Managna loved her. Anyone who knew her couldn’t help being affected by her goodness and delicate beauty.

  It had taken months for him to pay her heed, but the same wasn’t true for Rosita. She claimed her younger brother and sister were fully capable of finding their own way to school. With love shining from her eyes, she took pleasure in reminding him that he was probably the most obtuse man in the universe.

  Luke didn’t doubt it.

  It took him months to actually get around to asking her out. The night of their dinner, he was a nervous wreck. He was twenty-seven years old and felt as though he were seventeen all over again.