A Candle in the Dark (12 page)

“I see.” Cain felt cold, the warm balm of the night was suddenly only dark and barren. He grabbed at the bottle and gulped thirstily at the brandy, but it didn’t help, and when he saw the disgust in her glance, he lowered the bottle again. “No one’s ever surprised you?”

“Not for a long time,” she said, but he saw something in her eyes that told him she wasn’t telling the whole truth. “People—especially men—do exactly what you expect them to.”

“Perhaps you don’t understand them as well as you think.”

“No?” She raised a slender brow. “You think not? I assure you, there wasn’t a man who came into Rosalie’s who wasn’t there for only one thing.”

“Maybe their reasons for wanting a woman had nothing to do with—”

“Their reasons for coming in don’t interest me.” She laughed shortly, a bitter sound without humor. “I don’t care why. As long as they paid for it, I gave them what they wanted.”

Cain said nothing. He looked at Castañeras and the boatmen, wondering if they’d heard any of the conversation, but they were too engrossed in gaming to pay attention to what was happening only a few yards away.

It wouldn’t matter if they did, he realized. There were a thousand questions burning on his tongue. Questions he could ask because he was buoyed by brandy and there was no place for her to run.

He stared off into the darkness. Conscious of the others for her sake, he kept his voice low. “Fine, you don’t care about their reasons. What about yours? How did a girl like you end up in a brothel in Five Points?”

She was so quiet he turned to look at her, and was immediately sorry that he had. She stared at him with such contempt he felt as if she’d slapped him, and in that moment he felt innocent and naive as a young boy caught in the flush of first love. Christ, it was a stupid question, a clichéd question, but one, for some reason, he wanted answered badly enough to risk her disdain.

He fumbled for the words. “I—I know—”

“You don’t know,” she said, and her icy voice covered so much anger it shocked him. “Tell
me
something, Mr. D’Alessandro. How did you end up being such a drunkard?”

He recoiled, and she leaned close, so close he could smell the strangely citrusy scent of her hair. “What is it you really want to know, D’Alessandro? Do you wonder how I can bring myself to sell my body? How I can demean myself so much?” She got to her feet in a swish of wool, shaking her braid back, every move as controlled and elegant as a ice queen. “Let me enlighten you. It’s not demeaning. Demeaning is working your fingers to the bone doing other people’s laundry and still not having enough to eat, or stripping the clothes off the dead so you have something to wear. Demeaning is having to depend on somebody’s mood when you’re begging on the streets.” She glared at him. “Does that explain it for you?”

He didn’t look away. “I’m sorry.”

Her stance was rigid, her fists clenched, but she didn’t move. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and Cain watched her fingers uncurl. When she looked at him again, her eyes were strangely expressionless. “No, I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “I’m sorry for losing—”

“Well, well, what have we here?”

The heavily accented voice boomed from the jungle surrounding them. Cain jerked upright so suddenly he nearly fell. Ana spun around. Castañeras and the boatmen were startled into silence.

The darkness seemed to part. Down the center of it walked a large man dressed in a pair of ragged, stained breeches and little else. His dark, greasy hair was slicked back from his broad forehead, and his mustache was so bushy it nearly hid his thin lips. His muscled vested chest ended at a broad belt. From that belt hung a huge knife, and a pistol glinted in his hand. Cain’s blood ran cold.

“
Dios
.” Jiméne’s voice was a whisper.

The man turned to look at him, a wicked smile curving his lips. “Not God,
amigo
.” He waved his hand, and two other men materialized from the darkness. “But close. Meet my men, Ramon and Juan. My… angels. Lucifer’s angels.” He smiled and pointed his gun directly at Ana. “Welcome to hell,
chica
.”

Ana stood in stunned amazement. She heard D’Alessandro climb slowly to his feet behind her.

“
Pare
!” The leader growled, raising the pistol. The cold smile never left his face. “Will you risk death to yourself or the lady?”

“We have nothing.” D’Alessandro’s voice seemed loud in her ear. He was standing so close she felt his heat. “
Nada
.”

“That is for me to decide.” The man nodded toward Ruben and Ambrosio. “
Muy bueno, amigos. Váyanse
!” Neither moved. “
¡Váyanse
!”

The boatmen were on their feet in a moment. They fled into the jungle, leaving behind only the sound of thrashing underbrush. Within minutes, the splash of the bungo sliding into the water and the lapping of paddles filled the darkness.

The boatmen were gone, along with all the luggage still in the boat. “
Yo creo que nos han engañado
,” Jiméne said slowly.

Their captor laughed. “
Si, amigo
. You were duped. Ambrosio and Ruben, they know to bring the miners here. To me.” He poked a thumb at his broad chest. “And now I have you—and everything you have.”

“Which is nothing.” Jiméne rose, carefully, slowly. “There are others behind us. Richer—”

“Quiet!” the man bellowed. Once again he leveled his pistol at Ana. “Will I shoot her? Or will you cease this arguing?”

Ana’s stomach tightened. She glanced at Jiméne, then at D’Alessandro. Both men were watching their attackers with intense concentration, though D’Alessandro was swaying, as if he couldn’t really focus. Her heart sank. He’d been drinking, and he was probably useless. Everything depended on herself and Jiméne. Two against three, and they were at a distinct disadvantage, since their attackers were armed.

Jiméne held up his hands in surrender. “Take what we have, then. We want no trouble.”

“But trouble is what you have, eh?” The big man smiled. He made a quick motion with the pistol. “Ramon, Juan—”

Something rustled in the darkness behind him. He turned, and in that split second, Jiméne lunged for the bag near the fire.

In the same moment, D’Alessandro pushed Ana with all his strength, sending her sprawling to the ground, out of the line of fire. “Stay there!” he shouted.

Before she could react, he was beyond her, moving in behind Jiméne as Ramon and Juan advanced.

“
¡Pare
!” The leader spun around, brandishing the pistol wildly now that his target was gone. Jiméne, his face was dark with rage, held a full brandy bottle in each hand.

Ramon lunged forward. Jiméne raised the bottle.

D’Alessandro turned to help Jiméne. Behind him, Juan pulled a long knife from his vest. The sight of it sent terror spinning through Ana.

“Cain!” she shouted. “Cain! Behind you—”

Wildly Cain twisted. Without looking behind him, Jiméne jerked back to attack, accidentally cracking a bottle against D’Alessandro’s skull. Ana saw his surprise, and she watched helplessly as her partner crumpled, unconscious, to the ground.

“
¡Dios
!” Jiméne’s distress rang through the curse. He spun from D’Alessandro, fear glowing in his eyes as he faced their attackers.

Juan straightened, his gold tooth gleaming as he smiled. “One down,” he said, turning, staring at her.

Ana scrambled to her feet. She had to get out of there. Had to run—

She was too late. Someone grabbed her wrist, yanking her to a stop.

“Not so fast,
chica
.”

It was the leader. Ana tried to wrench away, but he was too strong. He barely moved, and yet she found herself pulled back against his nearly naked chest, the barrel of a pistol shoved in her side.

“
¡Pare
!” He twisted around, taking her with him, until they were facing the battle in the middle of the clearing.

An unfair battle. Juan and Ramon surrounded Jiméne, and Ana looked just in time to see Ramon’s fist thud into Jiméne’s stomach. Jiméne’s grunt of pain echoed in the clearing, the bottles fell to the ground and rolled out of reach.

“Stop!” the leader screeched, his voice deafening. The gun poked painfully into her waist; he held her so close she couldn’t struggle. Juan stopped and turned, his knife gleaming dully in the dim light, but it was as if Ramon and Jiméne heard nothing.

Ana’s heart pounded in her ears, desperation brought cold sweat to her skin. The leader held her so tightly she could do nothing but watch Ramon pound Jiméne, nothing but wait for them to finish him so they could take a turn at her.

The image pierced her mind with brutal clarity, adrenaline sped through her blood. Her instincts took over. Ana twisted in her captor’s arms and slammed her knee into his groin. In the split second of his surprise, she jerked away, racing from the clearing without a backward glance.

She crashed into the underbrush, slipping and sliding over the moist ground, fighting the clawing vines and brambles as if they were enemies. She searched the darkness for someplace to hide, knowing she wouldn’t be able to run far enough or fast enough to escape them. No, her only chance was to hide and wait it out and then continue on when it was over.

The image of Jiméne and D’Alessandro flashed through her mind, and Ana pushed it away. She didn’t have time for them, she had no choice but to save her own life. Surely they would understand? D’Alessandro was already out, and Jiméne would never survive Juan and Ramon. They would
want
her to go on without them—

But she could not make it without them. The knowledge hit her like a blow, and Ana slowed, cursing herself. She needed at least one of them. She had no idea where to go, or what to do. Dammit, she had no choice but to go back and help.

Even as she thought it, she heard the thrashing of vegetation behind her. Desperately she surged forward. Something caught at her skirt, holding her back, and Ana vainly wrenched at the wool, trying to tear it loose—

“Be still,
puta
.” The whisk of drawn steel was in her ears; suddenly the deadly edge of a knife was pressed to her collar bone. “Be still or I will slit your throat.”

Juan
. Ana’s heart fell into her stomach.

“That’s better.” The knife edge bit into her skin, pressing her until she felt him against her back. His breath was hot and moist and garlicky on her ear. “I have her, Esteban!” he shouted. “I have—”

Ana jabbed her elbow into his gut, and he choked. The knife pressure lessened. She twisted, feeling the blade run along her throat, feeling the thin trickle of blood. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except her chance to get away.

Using all the skills she’d mastered in the slums, Ana doubled her fist and aimed blindly in the darkness. She wanted Juan’s groin, she got his stomach. His grunt of a curse brought a rush of breath on her face. Ana backed away, trying to dodge the branches in the darkness.

But they blocked her way, and Juan was barely slowed. He grabbed her arm, fingers biting into her tender flesh, and yanked her back.

“
Puta,” he
said with a snarl. “You will pay for this, I promise it.”

Ana tried vainly to escape. “Let me go!”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. The knife pressed to her throat again. “Do not worry,
gallita
,” He laughed. “Esteban, he will have plans for such as you.”

Ana stiffened, remaining as motionless as possible as Juan dragged her backward to the clearing. The combination of his arm and her corset made her light-headed; the darkness seemed to be swimming around her. Determinedly she blinked, trying to focus, trying to breathe. She felt the warmth of her own blood trailing down her throat. With every movement, the point of the knife pricked her a little more, sending tiny stabs of pain into her neck.

There had to be a way out of this. But even if Jiméne
had
bested Ramon, there was still the leader, the man Juan had called Esteban. And as long as he held the pistol, they were severely unmatched.

The moment they got to the clearing, Ana knew it was hopeless. Ramon and Jiméne still struggled in the dirt. The moment Esteban saw her, a nasty sneer broke over his face.

“Ramon!” he shouted.

Ramon’s head came up, and Jiméne scrambled from beneath him. Taking advantage of Ramon’s pause, he lunged.

“Do it, and the girl dies.” Esteban’s voice boomed through the trees.

Jiméne glanced up, saw her, and skidded to a stop. “Ana,” he breathed. He was covered with dirt, the whites of his eyes widened in his muddy face. He glanced to Esteban. “Don’t hurt her.”

“We do not
want
to hurt her,
amigo
.” Esteban smiled. “All we want is
su dinero
.”

“Jiméne—” Ana gasped for enough breath to say his name. Juan jerked her head back so roughly she saw stars.

Esteban threw her a perfunctory glance. “Shut her up, Juan,” he said. “Before I silence her permanently.”

The blade pressed further into her throat.

“Please,” she rasped. Her voice sounded harsh and frightened even to her own ears. “Please, take anything you want. Anything.”

Esteban’s eyes glittered. “Anything, eh?” He laughed. “Juan?”

Juan laughed as well. The odor of garlic and tobacco made Ana want to retch. The blade left her throat, and Ana watched in numb horror as he dragged it down her bodice, slicing a triangular tear in the fabric. “Whatever we want,
puta
?”

“Yes,” she breathed. The knife glimmered in the darkness. Please God, she had to keep her head, had to think. She would do whatever she had to buy time. As long as they left her alive. God, that was all she wanted, to be alive…

“No.” The voice came from behind them. Harsh, uncompromising, commanding. She felt Juan stiffen.
D’Alessandro
.

Cain pressed the scalpel closer to the skin, until he felt Juan jump, and a drop of blood oozed from his neck. The knife thudded to the ground, but Juan didn’t release his hold on Ana.

“Esteban,” Juan said, warning and panic in his voice.