Sooner or Later

  5

  Jack Keller played back the message on his answering machine twice, certain he’d missed something. It was Murphy’s voice all right, but Keller had a difficult time believing what his friend was saying.

  He’d done it. By heaven, Murphy had actually agreed to escort the do-gooder’s sister into Zarcero. Keller wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t heard it with his own ears. His fellow mercenary didn’t sound any too pleased about it, either. From the background noise, he must have phoned from the airport.

  Ignoring the pain in his ribs, Keller sat back, folded his hands behind his head, and propped his feet on the ottoman. He couldn’t help wondering what had brought on this bout of altruism. Jack grinned, knowing full well Murphy’s feelings about this assignment. Either this postmistress had more money than God or she’d fed Murphy one hell of a line. But that didn’t add up, either.

  If this woman had that kind of wealth, she wouldn’t be working for the post office. As for someone—particularly a woman—suckering Murphy into doing something he didn’t want, well, Keller had yet to see that happen. Women weren’t a big temptation for Murphy. He disapproved of any type of distraction. Murphy claimed he’d saved Jack’s sorry ass more than once by keeping his pants zipped.

  Unfortunately, Keller had learned his lesson the hard way. He’d been set up by a pretty señorita a couple of years back and damn near had the bejesus beat out of him as a result. It’d taken nearly six months for him to heal, and he’d carry the scars of that encounter all of his life. Since then he’d stringently followed Murphy’s lead. A mission was a mission.

  Kansas, however, was a different story. He liked to brag about his sexual exploits, and to be fair, he’d had his share of women. He’d never quite figured out what it was about him that attracted them. One look in the mirror confirmed he wasn’t calendar material. He suspected it was his blue eyes. Women appeared to have a thing about blue eyes. Sinatra would testify to that. Brad Pitt, too.

  For reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely, Marcie Alexander came to mind. He’d been in town close to three weeks now and he’d yet to call on Marcie. Ever-welcoming Marcie. He could go six months or longer without contacting her, and the minute she saw him all was forgiven.

  He couldn’t remember where he’d met the blonde. Probably some bar. The hairdresser had a heart of pure gold. Unfortunately everyone knew it and took advantage of her generosity, Keller included. It shamed him when he thought about the way he’d used her over the years.

  He’d arrive unannounced on her doorstep, and she’d take him in like a stray tomcat, feed him, pet him, make love to him, and expect damn little in return. Generally that was what she got.

  She never questioned the lies he fed her, and there’d been some real doozies. Once she even bailed him out of jail. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d reimbursed her.

  What he liked best about Marcie was that she never hassled him. Not with questions. Not with demands. She gave and he took. But then he figured he wasn’t the only recipient of her generous nature. Marcie was the land of woman a man used.

  He’d been in town a while now, and he could have gotten laid every night of the week if he’d wanted. Trouble was, he didn’t feel like paying for what most women would give away free. He’d never experienced much trouble convincing a lady to spread her thighs. What he didn’t like was the expectation that went with it.

  Just the other night he’d gone home with a stacked blonde, and after the usual tap dance to the bedroom, he’d spent the night. The next morning she’d asked if he’d fix her toilet for her. For the love of heaven, her toilet, and then she’d gotten all bent out of shape when he’d refused. Apparently she’d felt that since she’d pumped him dry, he owed her.

  The more he thought about it, the more inclined he was to contact Marcie. He could use a little of her tender, loving care. She’d never been particularly beautiful, but what she lacked in looks was more than compensated for by her body. His mouth watered just thinking about her breasts. Lush and full, they were probably the finest specimens he’d ever laid eyes on, and he’d seen more than his fair share.

  He loved it when they were in bed together and he’d be flat on his back and Marcie would lean over him. He’d play with her nipples, tease her unmercifully with his tongue until she’d whimper and whine. Only then would he give her what they both craved. Heaven almighty, the woman knew how to satisfy him, and she wasn’t looking for him to work on her toilet afterward, either.

  The decision made, Keller headed out the front door. If he timed it right, he’d arrive at Marcie’s beauty shop before she closed down for the night.

  By the time he started his car, Keller was wondering if he’d hold out long enough to make it over to her place. The way he felt right then, the chair in the lunch room in the back of the shop would suit him just fine.

  Keller sighed with relief when he turned onto her street and saw Marcie’s shop. A lot of things had changed in nine months, and he’d half feared she might have gone out of business.

  He parked on the street, stopped off at the flower shop a couple of doors down, and picked up a bouquet of spring flowers. The roses were prettier, but a lot more expensive. Marcie wouldn’t know the difference and certainly wouldn’t care.

  The bell above the door chimed when he entered the shop. He was greeted with the faint acrid scent of perm solution. A young blond woman behind the counter eyed him with open curiosity.

  “I’m looking for Marcie,” he announced, flashing the girl an easy smile. His timing couldn’t have been more perfect. There seemed to be a lull in business.

  The girl ran her finger down the appointment book. “Are you scheduled?”

  “I’m an old friend,” Keller explained. “If she’s in, I’d like to surprise her.”

  “She’s here.” The girl gestured with her head for him to go on back.

  By then Keller was so eager, he nearly trotted to the rear of the shop. He pulled back the makeshift curtain and gifted Marcie with a smile potent enough to melt glacial ice.

  “Hello, dahlin’.”

  She sat at the table, her feet propped up by a chair, eating popcorn. Her eyes widened with surprise mingled with delight when she saw who it was. “Johnny.”

  Another sin. Keller had never gotten around to telling her his name was Jack. What the hell, Johnny was close enough.

  “You look fabulous.” He told her that everytime he saw her, especially after a lengthy absence, only this time it was true. She’d done something different with her hair. It was shorter, curlier, blonder. He’d miss burying his hands into the thick, waist-deep length, but this style suited her much better.

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  He set the flowers on the table and reached for her, lifting her out of the chair. Before she could protest, and he knew she wouldn’t, he had her in his arms.

  Her mouth was as sweet as he remembered. She tasted good, damn good. Better than anyone in a hell of a long time. She smelled faintly of lilacs instead of stale barroom smoke, as fresh and clean as summer itself.

  One kiss didn’t come anywhere close to satisfying him. Before she could tell him how much she’d missed him, he had her backed against the wall with his tongue halfway down her throat. She squirmed against him, her eagerness stroking his pride and his manhood. Soon he was so damned hard, his erection throbbed against the metal teeth of his zipper. This was even better than he expected. For the life of him, Keller couldn’t remember why he’d waited so long to contact her.

  “In a minute, baby,” he whispered between deep kisses. He wanted to see and taste her breasts before he gave them what they both wanted.

  He had three buttons of her pink uniform unfastened before he heard her.

  “No, Johnny.”

  He was sure he’d misunderstood. “No?” He must be hearing things. Her body was telling him one thing and her lips another.

  “It’s been nine months sinc
e I last saw you.”

  “I told you before, baby, I travel for business.”

  She closed her eyes and breathed hard and heavy. “Then what’s this?”

  He slipped his hand inside her uniform and sighed audibly when he cupped her breast. Her nipple pearled instantly. “Pleasure, sweetheart, pure pleasure.” He kissed her again before she could say anything more. When he finished, they were both breathing hard.

  “This isn’t such a good idea,” she said. Again her body claimed it was the best idea either of them had had in a hell of a long time.

  “I’ve missed you.” To prove how much, he gripped her hand and placed it over his erection. “See?” he whispered.

  “I don’t think you heard me,” she said, and it was clear she wanted him as much as he did her. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “Marcie, what’s wrong?” He nuzzled her neck, sucking and licking, doing all the things she enjoyed most. At least he thought it was Marcie who enjoyed this kind of love play. Faces tended to blend together in his mind.

  “I’m not the same person I was before.”

  Keller groaned and lifted his head reluctantly. “You got married?”

  “No….”

  Relieved, he kissed her again, deeper this time, persuading her in ways words never would.

  “Johnny…” She sounded as if she were about to weep.

  “You’re engaged?”

  “No.”

  Kissing away her protests, he bunched her breasts with both hands. It took him far longer than it should have to realize there wasn’t as much there as had been previously. Slowly he lifted his head, and his eyes found hers.

  “I had breast reduction surgery.” She answered the question before he could ask.

  Personally Keller couldn’t understand why she’d go and do anything so silly. He wanted to tell her that, but she started talking as if she intended never to stop.

  “You can’t flitter in and out of my life any longer. I’ve never been anything more than a convenience to you, Johnny. You’re here one day and gone the next. You never let me know when you’re coming or, worse, when you’re leaving. The last time—” She stopped abruptly and seemed to strengthen her resolve before she said, “I refuse to be used any longer.”

  “Use you? Me? Honey, that’s not true.” He put on a hurt look, but that didn’t seem to faze her.

  “A bouquet of flowers isn’t enough to make up for nine months of silence.”

  “But I’ve already explained—”

  “You’ve barged in and out of my life for the last time,” she said, cutting him off. “It’d be better for the both of us if you left now.” Her eyes flashed with conviction.

  “Fine, if that’s the way you feel.” He had half a mind to remind her there was plenty of what she gave away.

  She lowered her head. “Good-bye, Johnny.”

  He turned around, intent on walking out the door, letting her think it was no skin off his nose. They’d had some fun together, could still, but she wasn’t willing. So be it. He jerked back the cloth curtain and happened to glance back. Marcie stood with her shoulder braced against the door, her head lowered and her bottom lip trembling.

  “Do I owe you any money?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Hell if he could remember if he did or didn’t. “Good-bye, Marcie,” he said softly. With that he left the beauty salon.

  An hour later he sat in a bar, feeling more than a little melancholy. He didn’t know what the world was coming to these days. He hadn’t had a cigarette in three years, but he needed one now. After downing the last of his beer, he walked outside.

  A whore, dressed in leather pants and a halter top, leaned against the side of the building. Catching sight of him, she offered a coy smile.

  “Looking for a good time, honey?” she asked.

  It was a sad commentary that Keller had to think about the answer. Sure, he’d been after a good time, but he’d wanted it with Marcie.

  “I don’t know,” he said, playing her game. “What are you offering?”

  With her hand planted against the swell of her hips, she sidled toward him, her cherry lips easing into a sultry smile. “I’ll give you anything your little heart desires,” she whispered, then laughed softly, “and then some.”

  “What is this, a slow night?”

  “You want it slow, you got it slow.”

  For the life of him, Keller couldn’t dredge up the enthusiasm. All he could think about was Marcie and the feel of her as her sweet body had rubbed against him.

  “Another time,” he said.

  “Hey, you’re missing out on the best time of your life.”

  Keller doubted that. The best time had been nine months ago with Marcie. He wouldn’t be any kind of man not to know she’d wanted him. Damn, he’d like to know what had gotten into her.

  Marcie. By heaven, he’d have her again just as soon as he figured out a way to change her mind.

  6

  He was alive, although he wasn’t sure why. After repeated interrogations and torture, Luke Madden would have welcomed anything that would relieve the agony of the past two weeks. Even death.

  He tried to find a place in his heart to forgive the men who abused his body and tormented his soul. With regret, he admitted that forgiveness had become more of a struggle than dealing with the crippling pain.

  From the look in the soldiers’ eyes, Luke realized they found pleasure in his suffering. Pleasure in the power they held over him.

  Once he figured out their game, he did his utmost to keep from crying out, refusing to give their demented souls the satisfaction they sought. Consequently they beat him harder, tortured him longer, in an effort to break his spirit and steal from him what remained of his dignity. That, too, along with everything else, lay in shambles at his feet. He had no will to continue.

  Even now, Luke didn’t understand the beatings. He was a missionary, a man of God. Despite evidence to the contrary, his captors believed his mission in Zarcero involved far more than preaching the gospel. They assumed he’d been a confidant of President Cartago. While it was true that he’d known and admired Zarcero s president, he’d never been an associate. From what Luke had gleaned, Cartago had managed to hide a large portion of the country’s treasury before his death. Why his captors assumed he would know anything about that, Luke could only guess.

  “Luke?” Rosita’s voice came to him like a siren’s song, soft and lilting, tender and healing.

  With effort he raised his head from the thin mattress and tried to open his eyes, but they were swollen shut. After the interrogation, when the pain burned in his gut and racked his soul, he found comfort in thinking about Rosita. How beautiful she was, how gentle and kind.

  “Rosita?” He prayed as he’d never prayed before that she hadn’t been taken, and in the same breath, the same heartbeat, he thanked God for the one last opportunity to see her.

  “I’m here. Don’t fear, it’s safe, no one knows.”

  “A guard…someone might find you.”

  “My uncle is a guard,” she whispered. “He arranged it so I could see you.”

  The risk she took far outweighed any benefit. Luke couldn’t bear thinking about what would happen if she were discovered. His beautiful Rosita had risked her life for him.

  Luke heard the key that opened the cell door.

  “Oh, Luke, what have they done to you?” Emotion rocked her voice. How he wished he could have spared her this.

  Luke knew that his swollen eyes were the least of his injuries. His figured that he had several broken ribs, along with any number of internal injuries. His fingernails had long since been ripped off, and he suspected a muscle in his leg had been torn.

  Whispering in Spanish, Rosita gently brushed the hair from his brow, her fingers trembling with tenderness and love. He felt her anguish as keenly as his own.

  With her arm supporting his neck, she elevated his head and pressed a cup to his lips. Luke drank thirstily, grat
efully.

  When he’d finished, she bent forward and whispered close to his ear, “We will free you soon. Hector and the others have a plan, and—”

  “No, Rosita, no.” He wouldn’t survive much longer, of this he was certain. Another beating like the one that afternoon would surely kill him. He didn’t understand even now why he was alive. The future held more pain; death would come as a welcome release, more of a friend than an enemy.

  “Please, my love, be strong, hang on just a little longer,” she whispered frantically.

  “No.” He refused to allow his friends to put their lives at risk in an effort to save him. “It’s too late for me.”

  “No, you must be strong. Soon, very soon, you will be free.”

  “Rosita, I can’t…forgive me, but no.” With every ounce of strength he possessed, he pleaded with her.

  He must have lost consciousness because the next thing he knew she was gone. Perhaps it had been a hallucination; he prayed it was. It would be far better that she not see him like this. His heart swelled with love and regret for the life they might have once shared. It was too late for them, much too late.

  With thoughts of Rosita lingering in his mind, Luke felt weighted down with a great sadness. He hadn’t the strength to continue or the will to go on. He prayed Rosita would forgive him. Rosita and his sister.

  Thoughts of Letty crowded his head. They’d always been close, he and Letty. His death would devastate her, and for that he was truly sorry. He knew his twin as well as he knew his own heart. With that knowledge came the understanding that Letty wouldn’t want him to suffer any longer.

  7

  Letty stood under the shade of a low-hung roof as the sun beat down upon the parched land like a giant hammer. Heat shimmered in the early afternoon, the sun so bright it nearly blinded her.

  She was joined under the thatched roof by a young mother, who held an infant of about six months. The woman eyed Letty wearily and appeared to be waiting for one of the men arguing with Murphy on the other side of the road.