Songs for Perri (10 page)

Waving him off, Hugo bent over and kissed Perri with an air of complete assurance, his lips firm and warm, lingering as if they did this each time they met...his large hand cupping the back of her head with tender possession as their lips touched—and she let him, her eyes wide, her heart pounding rapidly from astonishment, shock and pure pleasure.

She was so
very glad
to see him.

"Sorry I'm late," he announced, with such artful innocence she could almost believe she had an appointment with him. "I saw something that might interest you. Stopped to look at it." He raised his glasses and glared balefully under them at the guide, who was still standing nearby. Hugo was the perfect picture of an aroused, aggressive male, jealous and possessive, warning another off his personal turf.

Outmaneuvered, the other man backed off and Hugo picked up the vacated chair, spun it into position and dropped his lanky form upon it, as if to reside there permanently, a gleeful suggestion of school-boyish mischief crossing his face as he quoted in an undertone, "‘None but the brave deserves the fair.'" Then he added, plainly self-satisfied, "You looked like you wanted rescuing. Right?"

Her senses still reeled from his unexpected greeting. She didn't need to fuel his arrogance, but she had never had such a delightful connection with a man before and wasn't at all sure what to say to put a lid on his cockiness and thank him at the same time. In the end she chose to keep it simple. "Yes. Very much. Thank you."

He grinned lazily, taking in her confusion, his tongue licking along his lips as if seriously contemplating what had just taken place. "You taste good, you know. Honey... and nectar."

The silence stretched, grew. Her mind had taken flight over the palm trees, leaving her as unsettled as sandy ground in an earthquake. Hugo wasn't shy about pressing his case.

Was it the unexpectedness of the kiss, the total surprise? Its firm possessiveness? Or was it special because Hugo knew how to kiss a girl so she felt like he had reserved his lips just for her—an offering of romance?

It had been short, but potent. Her lips were still throbbing, aglow with new life, ignited with a flame that had left them burning...and aching for more. He certainly wasn't a fumbling amateur.

A waiter approached and Hugo asked, "You eaten yet?"

With an effort she returned to reality. "No. I was just about to order."

"Mind if I join you?"

"No, not at all."

He hadn't asked permission to kiss her. Why had he bothered to ask if he could join her? As far as she could tell, he was already settled in, comfortably at home, enjoying himself.

Hugo had a unique quality of appearing completely relaxed...he carried it about with him. Even his voice, deeply toned and taking its own sweet time with its slow drawl, was easy on the mind.

At least it was that way now, ever since he'd stopped baiting her. Perri realized this with a sense of wonder as she felt herself smile. If anyone had told her, just after she had first met Hugo, that she would find "the pest" so relaxing, she wouldn't have believed him.

She'd enjoy having a meal with Hugo. Doubly so as his presence kept others away.

They ordered and Perri came to her senses enough to thank him for the money. "My credit card arrived yesterday. I've got all of your cash here; I replaced what I used."

"Really?"

He didn't sound particularly concerned about the money and Perri was baffled. "It's very trusting of you to loan a complete stranger that much. I could have taken it and skipped, you know," she commented.

He laughed softly, a sound as gentle as the ocean breezes that were rustling the palm-thatched shade over them. "No. Not you." He grinned lazily. "With your hair, you're too easy to spot. You wouldn't have gotten far."

"Anyway, thanks again."

His lips twitched in a private joke that he then shared with her. "You're very welcome. How much did I give you?"

"Five hun.... Don't you know?" she demanded.

"No...since I didn't loan you anything."

CHAPTER SIX

Perri stared at him, confused. Once again uncertainty trembled through her. "You didn't? Are you sure?"

Hugo chuckled. "Of course. I'll take the money, if you want to give it to me. But I never gave you any in the first place."

"Then who—” Her mind was a vacuum, whirling wildly, vacant of ideas.

"You must have a secret admirer. Who do you know, down here?"

Instantly Perri grasped the answer. Walt...or Owen. Presumably Walt, since he wanted her to return home.

"That didn't take you long. Whoever it is, he must think a lot of you."

"It's not quite what you think. He's not my...my lover or anything."

"Whatever." Hugo shrugged. "It's your business."

"I'm....I'm trying to find this man."

"The one you think sent you the money?"

"Yes."

"What if this man doesn't want to be found?" He threw the question out and it hung there between them.

Perri bit at her lower lip. She had been trying to come to terms with that fact all afternoon. "I don't think he does."

"Then why don't you—”

"Leave it alone? I would, except I've got to get a message to him. It's extremely important. Then he can be alone if he wants to be."

"In that case, why don't you describe him to me? I'll help you look. I'm free for a few hours."

Perri hesitated, the telephoned warning sounding in her mind. Should she enlist Hugo's aid? Since she had been describing Walt to every hotel clerk she had met without mentioning Owen, she could do the same with Hugo. It would be wonderful to have help. "Would you? I'd appreciate it. He's deaf, but it's hard to tell because he reads lips so well. He has gray hair and a short gray mustache, green eyes." She went on to detail her step-father's age, height and manner of walking. "Have you seen him, by any chance?"

"I haven't been looking. What's the message, if I find him?"

"I can't tell you. But I must find him. It sounds corny, but it is a case of life or death."

Hugo used his fingers to beat a short drum roll on the table. "All right. I'll help you tomorrow, too, if you need me. I'm free most of the day. Does this man have a name?"

"Yes, but apparently he's not using it. What's your room number so I can reach you if I have to?"

"You really want to know?" He smiled broadly, white teeth flashing brightly in his bronzed face, a devilish grin that should have warned her, but didn't.

"Of course."

"You're sure?" he prodded.

"Yes." What was so different about where he was staying?

He told her. "Very well. I'm in the room next to yours...the one with the connecting door." His grin broadened as he dropped the information on her. Seeing her instant reaction of suspicious withdrawal, he tacked on, dryly, "I'll unlock my side, if you unlock yours."

Perri could imagine the expression on his eyes, behind those dark glasses, matching his sly smile. One thing she didn't need was Hugo next door to her. The knowledge unsettled her. Had he arranged it?

She'd had practice parrying suggestions such as he'd just made and smiled mockingly back at him. "Are you sure you didn't bribe the desk clerk, just a little?"

"No." He held up both hands in innocent denial. "Scout's honor. I had that room before you arrived."

"Ha!" She didn't believe him. "I don't see you ever being a Boy Scout."

He scratched his head as if to consider her accusation. "No," he admitted quietly. "I never was. I was always... doing...other things."

"Like what?"

"Just...other things. Things too fierce to mention." For once he seemed unsure of himself, and she pressed harder.

"Like panty raids on sorority houses?" As soon as she said it she wished she hadn't. His grin swiftly transformed itself into a hungry smacking of his lips as he viewed her—privately—through his dark glasses. She felt a blush start to rise before he looked away and adjusted his glasses, pushing them up higher on the bridge of his nose.

"Actually, I wish I'd had time for things like that." Frowning, he shook his head, as if mystified by what was happening. "I don't believe it."

"What?"

"You."

She looked dubiously at him and he explained what was wrong.

"You're an interesting woman, Perri. You make me want to talk to you...to tell you things I shouldn't." She could tell the feeling baffled him. He looked decidedly put out with himself. "Even when you don't ask me questions. You'd make a powerful interrogator. Ever thought of working for the police?"

"Are you kidding?"

"No." He shook his head as if in a daze. "I've never felt this way...like I should tell you everything. I usually let the other person do all the talking. Do you, uh...use pixy dust?"

"No. What's wrong? Do you have some deep dark hidden secret, you can't talk about? A skeleton in the closet, so to speak?"

He rested his chin on the bridge created by the back of his hands. She couldn't tell if he was staring at her or at the table in front of them.

The answer came slowly, as if pulled from him. "As a matter of fact, yes. I'm not here in Mexico for pleasure, Perri. I have a job to do."

"What?"

"I can't tell you. Not now."

"Why?"

"Too risky."

"But—” She stopped, interrupting herself with her thoughts. He wasn't just a tourist, after all. Had she made a dreadful mistake in telling him about Walt? Was Hugo one of the men sent to kill Owen?

It couldn't be. Suddenly frightened, she forced the idea out of her head, refusing to entertain such a dreadful idea. Hugo, for all he sometimes looked like a thug, was a very personable man. He couldn't be involved in hunting down Owen. He just couldn't.

She knew her argument was weak. Killers could be charming when they wanted to.

He'd been quietly watching her as the various thoughts left behind a series of fleeting expressions. First puzzlement, then acceptance, then alarm. "I'd like to know what that was all about," he commented, "but I think I'll play it safe and forego asking."

Perri stared at the dark lenses thoughtfully. She wanted, desperately, for him to be unconnected with Owen's troubles...to be able to trust him. Only time would tell if Hugo was harmless or not. "Yes," she agreed. "I think that would be best."

Their food arrived and they gave their attention to the meal. Perri had a taste for Mexican food and ate with a relish that Hugo matched.

She finished before he did and took the opportunity to study him further. The small scar lifted his right eyebrow upward at the edge, giving him a sinister look. She could see it just past the side of his dark glasses.

"Do you live in those because you like them?" she asked, nodding toward the glasses. "Or are they prescription lenses?"

"I like to see and not be seen," he quipped, laying down his fork and pushing his empty plate slightly away from him. "That was good."

"It was," she agreed. Then indicating the glasses which irritated her so much, she declared, "Maybe I should get a pair."

"It would be a shame, coverin' up the brilliant blue of your eyes; although...they might keep you from getting a headache from the sunshine. Shall we go?"

He knew how to turn a compliment when he wanted to, Perri thought. Very much a man of the world. Cosmopolitan. Well educated, too. So why wear clothes suited for the "West Side Story?" She pondered the enigma in her mind for a moment, but came to no decision before answering him.

"Yes. Let’s go. I don't want to waste time. I have a list of hotels." Pulling it out of her purse, she showed it to him. "I thought he'd be in one of these out-of-the-way places, but now I'm not so sure."

"Hum. Let's finish these; then tomorrow we can canvas the Golden Zone."

"Shouldn't we split up? We'd cover more area?"

"Tomorrow. I want to hear your description a couple of times, so I'll have it down pat."

"Okay." She didn't mind having Hugo with her. Already she felt encouraged. His presence, plus the meal and short rest had given her a lift, both in spirits and energy.

By the time they reached the fifth hotel, Hugo was addressing the desk clerks, Perri coming in only when they asked a question he couldn't answer.

On the way outside, they stopped to check her list near a display case which contained items of gleaming silver inlaid with onyx and turquoise.

He remarked how well they were made, and she agreed. A heavy silver bracelet caught her eye, the intricate pattern of a Toltec feathered serpent especially well done. It was a striking piece, unusually crafted, and she commented on its uniqueness and beauty before they moved on.

"These are lovely, but out of my field," she said, turning to glance toward his darkly mirrored face. "We have one buyer of jewelry, but he buys directly from the craftsmen. I'll tell him about this place; he can take it from there."

"Good enough," he said. "Your pendant is unique. Is it from Africa?"

"Yes. It was my mother's favorite, she wore it all the time."

"Was?" he demanded, catching the meaning of the past tense, his voice suddenly terse, his lips tightening. "You mean...?"

"She died...seven weeks ago. I was holding her...and she was dying...and I couldn't do a thing. Nothing at all." Her voice caught, and she had to bow her head for a moment as she tried to regain her composure. "I'm sorry. I'm still weepy." Like a picture out of focus, the noise of the people in the lobby around them blurred and vanished, leaving only the silence of her grief hovering between them.

"I didn't know." His voice was constrained, as if it were also a great shock to him, so in touch was he with her feelings.

"I feel as if I should have done something...." She couldn't continue and Hugo led her behind a concealing fern, then pulled her close, his strong arms enveloping her, shutting out the world, offering protection and comfort and a silent imparting of sympathy.

"What happened, Perri? How did Crystal die?" he asked, his gentle voice hoarse with emotion. It was clear he was shocked by the fact it had been such a short time ago; knowing her emotional wounds would still be fresh.