Mayan Lover (8 page)

Arka snatched the salt and Maggie hooted. He
lifted Gwen’s hand, sucked in each of her fingers before he
licked her web, sending waves of arousal coursing through her system.
Her shorts grew wet with wanting him. Then he sprinkled her web with
salt.

I need this.
Gwen didn’t wait for a
toast. The heat of the liquor didn’t alleviate her burning need
for him in the slightest. It rushed to her head, leaving her dizzy
and tingly all over.

“Is it weird that totally turned me on?”
Enrique blurted.

Maggie grabbed Gwen, dragging her from her
stool. “Let’s sing.”

****

When the next drinks came, Arka didn’t
bother with salt and lime, he just drank it. Then drank Gwen’s
too. Though the girls seemed to be having fun, the song they selected
about a wife abuser named Earl—who he fully agreed, “had
to die,”—seemed more than just a song.

It ended and Maggie whispered in the
music-maker’s ear. She returned to the table and leaned against
Enrique’s chest. “Watch this.”

The lights dimmed so only one gave Gwen’s
face a soft glow. The music started and she swayed her hips softly.
Her eyes met Arka’s and he leaned forward attentively.

“In my secret dreams, I search for you.
Blindly in the dark of night. You think that I don’t know, I
will show you love … when the time is right.”

“Running through the twilight, twilight.
With eternal love in sight. You’ll find it in my arms tonight.”

Her voice rang out pure and strong, wrapping him
in the cocoon of her words. Her expression … the look in her
eye … like she were trying to tell him a secret. He felt the
sudden urge to kneel before her in worship again. The rhythm changed
and her dancing became more erotic.

“Bound to the night, our hearts will
unite, surrendered beneath, beneath … beneath the moonlight.
Oh … our hearts are joined … beneath the moonlight.”

Enrique batted his arm over the table. Arka held
his breath.

“Bound to the night, our hearts will
unite, surrendered beneath, beneath … beneath the moonlight.
Oh … our hearts are joined … beneath the moonlight.”

“She really likes you. This has been her
favorite song forever … and she’s singing it to you,”
Maggie said. He appreciated the insight into Gwen’s private
world. He appreciated it even more when she stopped talking so he
could hear the rest of the moonlight song.

Gwen took a bow when the room erupted in cheers.
With a light blush on her cheeks, she handed the metal voice catcher
to a person who stepped into her spot. Arka stood, captured her
behind her neck, and bent her backward into a perfect dip, pouring
his love into a scorching kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck and
she opened to him fully.

Everything around them ceased to exist. Only
her. He tried to shrug off the hand to his shoulder. “Uncle,”
Enrique yelled into his ear. Arka lifted his head from Gwen’s
sweet lips, ready to pound his nephew to dust, and met the amused
faces of a half-dozen people. He looked down at Gwen; she smiled and
bit her bottom lip.

People began to compliment him, and Arka
realized what he’d nearly done. “I’m sorry,
Goddess.” He whispered once she was back in her seat.

“Looks like it’s going around.”
Gwen smirked. Arka followed her line of sight to see Enrique and
Maggie kissing at the table. “I think it’s time to go.”
She poked Maggie in the arm. “Ready?”

Maggie smiled at Enrique. “Oh, hells
yeah.”

“I’ll be right there. Thank you so
much.” John snapped his phone closed. Finding someone to follow
Gwen in Central America had been surprisingly easy. The GPS had told
him exactly which archaeology site she was at. When he’d flown
in a few days ago, he walked up to the first driver he saw with a
Jeep. Jorge had been sympathetic to John being abandoned by his wife.
Of course he knew the trails … sure he had a cousin who needed
to make a few bucks taking pictures. Very accommodating natives.

He’d shown Jorge a picture of Gwen with
Maggie in it. It was a stroke of luck that Jorge owned the off-road
truck rental business where Maggie got her Hummer.

He checked his reflection. “You need to
go, sweetheart. I have some business to handle.” Tan hands with
pink nail polish snaked up his chest from behind.

“I go with you?” The girl pouted
like the child she looked to be, though she’d told him she was
nineteen when he asked. The blossoming age between sixteen and twenty
had always been his weakness. The memory of Gwen at nineteen still
made his mouth water. John reached in his billfold and handed her two
hundred dollars. “I not … whore!” She crossed her
arms over her perky breasts.

John wrapped his arms around her stiff form. “I
know you’re not, sweetheart. I just thought you might want to
go shopping for a few hours while I get some business done.” He
placed a kiss to the top of her head and she instantly melted against
him. He racked his mind trying to remember her name. She took the
money and dressed, giving him smiles probably meant to be coy. He
hardened behind his zipper at the demonstration of naive sexuality.

The girl left with a promise to return the next
day. He just nodded, though by then John would have his insubordinate
wife to deal with. Maggie had pulled Gwen out of the jungle, giving
him the opportunity he needed.

Removing the black ball cap respectfully, John
stopped at the front desk of his hotel and asked them to move him to
a different floor and room. Of course they would see to moving his
bags and personal belongings. Of course they would upgrade him to a
full suite for no extra charge. Accommodating.

The taxi dropped him off in a dirty alley behind
the bar. The back door opened and Jorge stood smiling in a plume of
cigarette smoke. “Come, come. You’re wife just arrived,
señor.” John ducked in and Jorge led him to a line of
chairs set up behind the dark screen backdrop of the stage. A couple
of kitchen workers rose and wandered off when they approached.

“Why are we back here?” John felt
the need to whisper.

Jorge waved to a large man leaning against the
wall with his arms folded.
Bouncer.
Just like the US. “My
nephew owns this bar. I recommended it and made a reservation for the
Maggie girl. This is where employees can watch the shows without
bothering the patrons.”

The stage lights came on. The black draping
light from behind became nearly sheer from the backside answering
John’s question even if Jorge hadn’t. John’s eyes
were instantly drawn to the halo of white hair sitting front stage
center. Gwen and Maggie sat side by side. It was the two men on the
ends that had John sinking into one of the chairs. The seductive
mannerisms of Gwen and the muscle-head Indian when they drank. If she
hadn’t fucked him already, it would happen by the end of the
night. Unbelievable.

Jorge gave him a look of pity. “I’m
sorry, señor. This must be very difficult to see.” He
handed John an envelope. “These are from my cousin.”

“It’s not her fault. Her friend
leads her down the wrong path,” John assured Jorge … and
reminded himself. Of course, Maggie had just arrived, and Gwen seemed
too comfortable with the man to have just met him.

John flipped through the pictures as Maggie and
Gwen croned out a lame Dixie Chicks song. Most were images of Gwen
smiling and laughing, the two men at her table digging beside her.
When was the last time John had heard her laughter? As if on cue, the
song ended and that laughter rolled over him with a wave of
nostalgia. The lights darkened on the last photo, showing the big
guy’s bared ass entering water with Gwen swimming farther out.
Son of a bitch.

When the music started, he recognized it
immediately—the song she secretly played all the time. The one
John had thought was for him. She sang it to another, poured herself
into gyrating … for him. The bottoms of her butt cheeks peeked
out from her shorts. Even her T-shirt slogan was about sex.
Whore
.
He’d always gone so easy on her. Blamed Maggie and other
people’s influence for her bad behavior. Only punished her for
her unwillingness to listen to him … obey him … let go
of her friendship with Maggie that was holding their relationship
back. When the guy practically took her on the barroom floor, John
knew without a doubt what he needed to do.

“Jorge, my friend.” John smiled
nicely at the man who had silently watched his wife degrade herself
in public. “I think I might need a gun.” Jorge’s
startled, suspicious expression had John trying to explain. “I
don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m just afraid that guy won’t
let me talk to my wife … won’t let me convince her to
come home.”

“No, señor. This is Belize. Gun
laws are strict here.” The suspicious look in Jorge’s
eyes remained. “Maybe you should calm down before you talk to
your wife.”

John caught the foursome standing to leave out
the corner of his eye. He stood and placed his hand on Jorge’s
shoulder. “You’re right, Jorge. I will go back to my
hotel and see if she will talk to me in the morning.”
Not
fucking likely.
John controlled his steps till he got out the
door. He leaned down to pull out the hunting knife he’d
purchased the day he’d arrived from under his pant leg and ran
around the building just as Gwen exited the bar with the man’s
arm slung intimately over her shoulder.

Out of the smoke-filled bar and under the street
lights, the guy looked even bigger. He towered over John’s six
foot one height by at least three inches. The dark tan shade of his
skin made Gwen’s pale completion look freakishly white. They
walked toward him, too engrossed in conversation to even notice him
in the shadow at the end of the building.

John lowered the bill of his cap and stepped
around the corner. Grabbing Gwen’s elbow the second she stepped
into view, he jerked her from the man, shoved her back to the bricks,
and pressed the blade to her throat. He met the fury in the guy’s
eyes dead on. “Keep walking, buddy.”

“Arka, do what he says,” Gwen
squeaked from beneath him.

Maggie and the other guy stepped beside the big
guy. Maggie gasped. “John, what are you doing? Let Gwen go.
This can’t end well. Think about it.” Always the voice of
reason. Maggie had talked him into letting Gwen go two years ago, and
look what that got him.

“This is your fault, Maggie. She never
would have left me if it weren’t for you.” John felt the
tears burning his eyes, which just pissed him off more. He looked
back at the guy Gwen had called Arka. “You should thank me.”
He pressed the blade harder.

The man’s deep voice was pacifying. “I
can see you’re … hurt, but I don’t understand
why?’ His English was heavily accented.

John snorted, determined rage coursed through
him with single-minded intent. “Did you know you were fucking
my
wife
? She’s defiled beyond redemption.” He spat
the last words into Gwen’s face. “Broken my heart for the
last time.”

“John, please. I’m … sorry,”
Gwen pleaded.

“Sorry!” The violent beast in him
roared to new life. A knife was too kind for her. He moved the blade
to her heart and took her throat in his hand, choking off her airway.
“You have no idea how sorry you are.” Her lips turned as
blue as her eyes bugged out of her head. Her scratching at his
forearms weakened. Her fear-filled eyes stared into his.
Oh, yeah,
he had her attention now.
He laughed with the satisfied,
invincible euphoria that flushed into him. Sirens in the distance
barely registered.
Too late
, as soon as her eyes dimmed he’d
take the knife to himself and be with her in the next life …
after he diced Maggie to pieces.

Suddenly the knife was knocked from his hand as
an arm wrapped around his neck from behind, pulling him away from
Gwen.
No.
His mind screamed.
She’s mine.
He
watched her crumble to the ground with Maggie kneeling next to her.
Realization of what he’d done pushed the bad side of him back
into its cage, leaving regret and shame. He opened his mouth to say
how sorry he was. To explain to her that she drove him to this, but
no sound came out. There was a burning in his neck, a loud popping
sound, then nothing.

****

The pressure at her throat lifted, but still
Gwen couldn’t get air into her lungs. She needed to cough but
couldn’t. She heard a sickening snapping sound, and then she
felt Arka’s strong hands roll her to her back making it even
harder to breathe. His lips touched hers, filling her lungs with a
single warm hard breath. He rolled her to her side and the coughing
began.

Her head pounded, her ears rang, and the black
dots in her vision swirled, making her sick. Retching, she struggled
to her hands and knees with Arka’s help. Loafers ran toward
her. The muffled voice of a man apologizing over and over was drowned
out by the scream of sirens. Her only center was Arka’s warm
hand on her back, holding her hair from her face while she vomited,
Maggie saying everything was going to be okay, and the agony of
drawing the next burning breath.

She closed her eyes against the dizziness as she
was scooped into arms and held against Arka’s familiar chest.
He sat with her on his lap and Gwen felt a mask cover her face. She
opened her eyes and made out the fuzzy details of an ambulance door.
Arka’s face came into focus. One side of his lips lifted in the
grin she loved so much and everything that happened rushed back into
her mind. Lifting her arms to encircle his neck, she buried her face
in his shoulder and wept.

He held the back of her head as every horrible
memory seared through her mind and ran unchecked down her cheeks. It
felt like she could cry forever. “I love you, Goddess,”
Arka whispered in her ear, spurring her tears to a new frenzy. She
didn’t deserve to be loved. John would kill her and anyone who
mattered to her … including Arka.