Saint (9 page)

“I most certainly do not want to.”

“Too bad. I don’t like giving orders twice.
Do it.”

Her mouth worked, then sagged open as she
stared at him incomprehensively.

“You need it,” he insisted. When she still
didn’t move he gave her a straight-down-the-nose chauvinistic look sure to curl
her sensibilities. “Look, lady, I don’t have all day. I want to get on the road
before dark.”

Close. She was so close. Her hands fisted
at her side but still she made no move toward him.

“My
name
is Maria,” she ground out. “It’s a very simple name. Not lady, not
honey, just plain Maria. Three syllables.”

He hated to push her this way, he really
did, it was better if she came to it on her own, but Francis was being such a pussy
about it. The preacher could take a bullet to the gut, but one small woman with
a case of nerves scared the hell out of him. “You won’t like the alternative,”
he warned. “I’d really rather do it this way.”

She thought he was a lunatic. “What the hell
are you talking about?”

“See this pebble?” He toed a rock near his
boot.

She looked down at it, then back at him. “What
about it?”

“Watch.” He ground the rock beneath his heel
until it was nothing but fine gravel.

“You brought me out here to show me how to
squash a rock?”

Didn’t he wish. “The rock is you.”

She gazed down at it again, then back at
him. Okay, she hadn’t quite gotten the point and only his quick reflexes saved
his jewels from ending up mangled. He caught her foot at the last second. “Ah,
ah, that’s cheating.”

Her growl of frustration was followed by a
clenched fist as it slammed into his chest. He barely felt the impact. Before
she lost her balance, he let go of her foot. “Better?”

“No.” She rubbed her knuckles against her
thigh. “You almost broke my wrist.”

“Sorry.” He took her hand in his and
examined it. Her skin was soft, warm. This was as close as he’d been to her in
days and she smelled like the soap he used. Releasing her hand, he said, “No
broken bones. You misunderstood the demonstration.”

“I thought it was very clear. I’m the rock
and you’re in charge.”

“For God’s sake.” He frowned down at her. “Forget
the fucking rock. You’re under a tremendous amount of pressure and you need to
let it out. Everyone handles it differently, but you’re not handling it at all,
you’re ignoring it. If you don’t let it out, it’ll find its own way out.”
Usually at the most inconvenient times.

“Thank you for that in-depth analysis but I
believe I’m made of sterner stuff than that. I’m not going to fall apart on you
like some weeping drama queen.”

One good punch must have done it. She
wasn’t trembling anymore. Her eyes no longer had that wild look. Her generous
mouth was thinned in irritation, her jaw set determinedly. Maybe he was wrong.
Maybe this
was
her way of
dealing and she wasn’t headed for a total meltdown. “Francis will be glad to
hear it.”

“Look, about this trip. It’s only to find
Will, right? I mean, you’re not going to kill anybody.”

God, not again. “We’ve had this
conversation. Which brings up another point I want to discuss with you.” He
didn’t really want to discuss it, because doing so meant getting deeper into a
situation he wanted nothing to do with, but erring on the side of caution had
saved his life more than once. “Do you have any family living?”

She turned her back on him, casually
drawing a finger along the weird-looking flowers growing out the tree trunk. “No.”

You little liar.
“Juarez will try to find something to draw you out. I’m surprised
he hasn’t done it before now. If there’s anyone you don’t want brought into
this, you’d better speak up. We need to get them undercover.”

“There’s no one.”

“Then I’d better get going.” With a wave of
his hand he indicated she should precede him from the clearing. Whether he
liked it or not—and he
didn’t—he was stuck, for now, in a world he thought he’d left
behind. Now the dreams would become intense and the memories would crowd into
his mind to torture him night and day.

He’d barely escaped with his sanity last
time he’d tangled with the Juarez family.

He had to find Will.

Will was salvation. Maria Carvania was
destruction.

Already he could feel the breakdown of
walls and barriers he’d erected to contain the pain and rage.

Not again. Not with this woman. Anyone but
this woman.

* * * * *

Maria watched from the porch as Seth Harris
loaded the last of his things into the truck while Father Francis leaned
negligently against the railing, smoking.

He was leaving. She told herself she should
be glad he was going, happy he was intent on finding Will and returning her to
the DEA agent’s care. Because then she wouldn’t be stuck in this limbo. Oddly
enough, she wasn’t happy about it. That made no sense at all. This last week
had been nerve-racking. It wasn’t only the stress of the situation that pressed
in on her, it was Harris’ attitude. He was distant and cold and avoided being
in the same room with her if possible. His resentment was a palatable thing. She
could feel it, see it in his eyes when he looked at her. He couldn’t wait to
get rid of her and that shouldn’t bother her in the least, seeing as how she
didn’t exactly like him either.

But then more questions crowded into her
brain. What would happen to her when Harris found Will? Would he be able to
find a safe place to hide her? Or would the running start all over again? After
what he’d done, she wasn’t entirely sure she trusted Will as implicitly as she
had before.

She tried to shrug off the anxious feeling
that clawed at her. She would just have to get used to the fact she had a biker
for a jailer. Harris trusted the guy but he had no right to order her to be
fine with the change in circumstances.

He climbed into the cab and started the
engine, then leaned out the window, crooking a finger at her in a come-to-me
motion. She left the porch and walked out to the truck. It felt like she was
walking to her doom.

“Stay close to Francis,” he said. “Do
everything he tells you.”

Oh big surprise, more orders. “How long
will you be gone?”

“No more than a week, I hope, but that’s
subject to change. And wipe that look off your face, I’m coming back.”

What look? She was pretty sure her stoic
expression didn’t convey how terrified she was at the thought of him leaving
and not coming back. Because for all she knew he was dumping her in the
biker/preacher’s lap.

“Something you want to tell me?” he asked.

“No, nothing.”
Liar.

“Christ,” he muttered as she turned away.
He caught her wrist to hold her in place. “Look at me.” She couldn’t. And
thankfully he didn’t force the issue. But his voice did soften just the merest
bit. “You’ll be safe with Francis. He knows what I expect. He won’t try
anything funny, if that’s what you’re worried about. No matter what he looks
like now, he’s a disciplined, seasoned soldier. One of the best. I trust him.”

She nodded, accepting what she couldn’t
change and he released her arm. She could feel his eyes on her as she made her
way back to the porch. He was probably wishing she would do him a favor and miraculously
disappear while he was gone.

There was no one to really trust but
herself, she realized. She had done the right thing, not telling him. She had.

* * * * *

“Rise and shine, Angelface.”

Maria shot straight up in bed, a booming
voice echoing through her ears. Disoriented, she tried to blink away the blurriness
of sleep from her vision.

Francis leaned over her, grinning like a
fool. “First a light breakfast, then maneuvers.”

It couldn’t be morning already? She passed
a hand over her gritty eyes and glanced toward the window. “Maneuvers? Francis,
it’s still dark out.”

He laughed, a warm wickedly rich sound that
promised all sorts of mischief. “That’s what all the raw recruits say when you
roll their lazy butts out of the rack that first morning. Five minutes, then I’m
coming back with a garbage can and a stick.”

He wasn’t serious. But what if he was? She
forced herself to get out of bed. The rumpled T-shirt and boxers that served as
sleepwear these days would have to do for breakfast, she was too damn tired to
care what she looked like as she shuffled down the hall to the kitchen where
the smell of eggs and bacon mingled with freshly brewed coffee. God, what she
wouldn’t give for a good night’s sleep.

“Seth didn’t say anything about maneuvers,”
she mumbled, taking a seat at the table as Francis dished up the plates.

“That so? Okay, let’s do it this way.
Anything we do that you like is my idea. Anything you don’t—Colonel’s orders.”
Francis sat a plate in front of her and dropped into the chair across from her
with his own, digging into his eggs. He wore a pair of camouflage pants, a puke-green
T-shirt and combat boots. His long dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. And
there was an inherent twinkle to his dark eyes, as though he knew a secret the
rest of the world didn’t.

She didn’t care how many secrets he knew, he
would never look like a preacher to her. “I can’t go on maneuvers,” she
informed him. “I don’t have any war garb.”

“Jeans and a shirt will do. Lucky for you I
don’t make you shave your head like all the new maggots. We have to put some
muscle on that piddley-ass little frame of yours. How’s your omelet?”

She must not be fully awake yet because she
thought she heard him say something about maggots. “Delicious. Two men who can
cook—what are the odds??”

“Honey, I can make a bag of bugs taste
good. Mmm, sorry,” he said, lifting his fingers in salute when she eyed her
plate suspiciously. “Scouts honor. There’s no creepy crawlies in your omelet. I
like to eat good food when I can. Never know when you’re going to be stuck in a
hole somewhere with nothing on hand. So, the colonel tells me your little
brother got mixed up with Juarez. How’d that happen?”

“We live just outside L.A.—”

“Say no more. I’ve often thought the
residents of that fine town could use a good blow torching.”

“I’m sure it’s no worse than New York or
Chicago or Miami.” Just to be on the safe side she poked at the eggs with her
fork. Nothing moved. “And if you’ve actually eaten bugs, please don’t tell me.”

“It’s a fact I know more about bugs than
any one person ought to.” He forked more eggs into his mouth. Between bites, he
said, “So you managed to yank the rug out from under Benito Juarez, eh? Men
like Juarez don’t get taken down by one person—you need an army.”

“I’m not trying to take him. I’m doing what
should have been done a long time ago.”

Francis polished off the last of his toast
and sat back, regarding her over the rim of his coffee cup. “I told Will going
legit was a bad idea. But he’s an optimist, like you. Believes in that innocent-until-proven-guilty
shit all the way down the line.”

Wonderful. Another one who thought she was
a few bricks shy. “That’s what makes this the greatest country in the world,
Francis. My grandfather immigrated here for that very reason.”

“But that’s not why Juarez and his kind
migrate. This country gives scum like him the greatest opportunity to break the
law and get away with it. Juarez is here because the Venezuelan government gave
him a hard way to go. He had it made down there ’til recently when an arms deal
went through to provide the local authorities with vintage choppers, tanks and
various updated automatic weapons. You can only piss off so many people in one
country, Angelface, before you have to move on.”

She wasn’t going to debate this with him.
Or Harris. “Maybe we should move on to another topic,” she suggested, rising to
pour herself another cup of coffee.

“How about sex?”

Her first sip went down the wrong way and
she choked. Francis was at her side instantly, patting her on the back. “Just
seeing if you were paying attention.”

* * * * *

Texas

The message was handed to him by his
secretary.

Dry well. Bobcatting experience a plus. Saint.

Another lost cause. What the hell, it would
be a change of pace. He was getting damn bored keeping his hands clean with paperwork.
Besides, he was one hell of a bobcatter. Maybe Saint only thought
the well was
dry.

“Alice, I’m going to be away for awhile.
Bick will be in charge while I’m gone, take any problems to him.”

“A business trip, sir?”

“You might say more of a vacation.”

“Your wife will be glad to hear that.”

“My wife won’t be accompanying me.”

“Oh. Well if you’ll give me the information
I’ll make the arrangements right away.” Alice stood with pen poised.

“I’ll take care of the arrangements myself.
You won’t be able to reach me. If I get a chance, I’ll call in, but don’t count
on it. Bick can handle any emergencies.”