Real Men Do It Better (27 page)

“Leave the doors locked.”

“If they had a gun to your head I’d unlock them.” Her nerves were about to choke her.

He breathed in roughly. “Okay, we’ll go in together, but stay on my ass and be ready to move. You jump when I say jump, don’t bother asking how high.”

Her lips twitched at the follow-up order.

“Don’t ask how high. Got it.” She nodded firmly.

“And carry this.” He opened the glove box, reached in, and pulled out a small revolver. “I know you know how to use it.”

Of course, she did—he had made certain she took firearms lessons the minute they had begun seeing each other years before.

“A woman’s best friend.” She gripped the weapon firmly.

“I thought that was diamonds?” he quipped as he scanned the area again.

“What do you think protects the diamonds?” she shot back, fighting to steady her nerves, to find at least a small measure of the calm he was displaying.

“The area is pretty sheltered here with the trees.” He pointed out the large trunks of the oaks growing between his property and the houses on each side. “We should be secure as we move to the garage. Keep your ears open and stay ready, Maggie.”

He reached beneath the dash, disabled the interior lights, then opened the door slowly and eased out of the vehicle. As he stood to the side, Maggie scrambled out after him, easing behind him as he pushed the door closed silently.

They moved quickly to the garage, where Joe unlocked the side door and opened it carefully before pulling her along with him.

The air in the garage was stale, rife with the scents of motor oil, a hint of paint and old grease. Maggie wrinkled her nose at the smell as her eyes struggled to adjust to the near pitch-black darkness.

A second later a small beam of light pierced the black surroundings, directing low, and angling toward the cherry red ’69 Mustang Joe pampered like a baby.

“Hello, baby,” he murmured as he walked to the car, patting the hood affectionately.

Maggie rolled her eyes.

“It’s not a baby, Joe,” she reminded him as she restrained her grin. It was an old argument, and one of the few she often instigated herself.

“’Course she is,” he sighed, as his hand slid over the hood before releasing the lock and raising it slowly.

The penlight beam moved slowly over the engine, as Joe leaned in, checking around it and inside the fender walls.

“Finding parts for her was a bitch,” he said softly. “There are very few original parts left for this model. She’s a true classic.”

Yeah, yeah yeah,
Maggie smirked. Joe was doing more than just checking for whatever Grant may have hidden, he was petting and caressing that damned engine like it could actually feel his touch.

“Do I need to leave the two of you alone?” she asked, keeping her voice at a whisper as he ran his fingers in and out of the maze of parts that made up the engine.

“You might want to look the other way,” he murmured. “She gets embarrassed if others see her naked like this.”

Maggie rolled her eyes.

Finally, he straightened from the motor with a sigh before lowering the hood back into place.

“Nothing in there.” There was an edge of relief in his voice as he moved along the side of the car.

His hand smoothed over the top before trailing down the door and gripping the handle. “Do you know how hard it was to find completely original parts? How many years I spent putting her together perfectly?”

“Your dream woman, huh?”

“She doesn’t back-talk me.”

“She can’t get on the kitchen table with you, either. I’d remember that one if I were you.”

He turned back to look at her, and even in the dim glow of the penlight, his gaze was frankly sexual.

“Oh baby, that one is just set in stone,” he murmured. “You have nothing to fear.”

She rolled her eyes at him again as he turned back to the car, moving into it to begin searching the interior. Maggie drew in a deep breath, rubbing her hands against her arms as a nervous chill raced over her flesh.

The garage was damned creepy. There were too many shadows, too many places where someone could hide. She stared around the dark interior, her eyes struggling to pierce the darkness of the corners, the long shadows cast by the multitude of boxes, appliances, and only God knew what that had been stacked against the walls. If she wasn’t mistaken, she had even glimpsed the hull of an old motorcycle hanging high on the far wall.

“You’re a pack rat, Joe,” she muttered.

He grunted from inside the car, the shadow of his large body moving in the interior as he searched each nook and cranny. He was thorough, and though her freedom depended on finding the information, she was beginning to pray it wasn’t here. If it wasn’t here, then she couldn’t be implicated, and there would be no reason to fear Joe’s distrust.

Tucking the small handgun he gave her into the back pocket of her jeans, Maggie bit her lip and waited in nervous fear as Joe took his good ole, easy time searching. He worked his way from the passenger side, back to the driver’s side, searching under seats, along the sides, the carpet, the walls, anywhere that Grant could have hidden whatever it was he hid.

As he knelt at the driver’s side door again, he ran his hands along the sides of the seat, pushing beneath it, then paused. She heard his muttered curse, heavy with bitterness, a second before he pulled a small package from beneath the seat.

“He cut my seat,” Joe muttered. “Bastard. It took me two years to find that seat.”

He sat back on his haunches, staring down at the dark package in his hands.

“Is that it?” She moved closer.

“Yeah.” His voice was heavy with distaste. “I pretty much bet this is it. Feels like a few discs, a video, pictures.” He felt around the wrapping. “I think we have it.”

The garage door opened abruptly.

“And here Santiago was certain our friend Grant was such a liar.”

The heavily accented voice was followed by four large bodies stepping into the garage, weapons raised, and their guns sure as hell looked bigger than hers and Joe’s.

“Down.”

A hard hand locked around Maggie’s wrist, jerking her down, as Joe pulled her around the side of the car and toward the long shadows cast from the junk piled along the walls.

She expected gunfire. Pain. Blood.

“Get them,” the order was harsh, commanding, but the sound of bodies moving behind them was the only indication that the Fuentes gang was in pursuit. The fact that they weren’t firing guns yet made her even more nervous.

“I’m going to assume you are going to be difficult about this,” the voice sighed as a bright light suddenly flared and began sweeping through the garage. “Don’t risk your lady’s life, Agent Merino. Give us the package and we will leave as quietly as we came in.”

Maggie felt the tenseness of Joe’s body, just as she heard the lie in the stranger’s voice. They would never make it out of there alive, no matter what they did.

“Jose, kill them now. You are making Roberto’s mistake in attempting to play with them,” a younger voice hissed. “Finish them off and we leave.”

“Shut up, Santiago. Roberto was less than the piss running down his father’s leg. He had no concept of the lessons Carmelita tried to teach us, whereas I paid careful attention. I will defeat this American dog on my own terms. Is this not so, Agent Merino?” He laughed slyly. “There is no triumph in a quick death. A humiliating life is another matter.”

Maggie had a feeling Jose had no intentions of allowing them either choice. She could hear it in his voice, feel it in the tension whipping through the room. She stayed down, pressed against the side of an old washer, with Joe in front of her, completely hiding her. She bit her lip, fighting back her harsh breathing, forcing herself to stay utterly silent as the flashlight swept through the garage.

Crouched low, with decades worth of junk heaped around them, Maggie bit her lip as the sound of footsteps neared. They were searching around the stacks of accumulated boxes, appliances, and miscellaneous junk heaped six to eight feet from the sides of the large garage. It was a mess. Thank God.

She held her breath as the footsteps passed and moved away, the bright flare of the light skirting inches in front of where Joe crouched.

“Agent Merino, we can do this the easy way, or we may do it the hard way. If you make me exert effort, then I will take your woman and play with her a bit before I allow her to die. I will let you live long enough to watch. Or you can hand over the package easily, and you may just walk away.”

Maggie shuddered at the offer as Joe reached back, gripped her wrist again, and they began moving slowly through the shadows, hunkered low, working around along the side of the garage toward the far wall. The direction they were going would have them coming up behind the men standing at the doorway. If they moved further into the garage, then there was a slim chance for escape.

“How disappointing,” Jose finally sighed. “But, I’ll enjoy punishing you for the effort I must make.”

Joe moved quickly along a row of boxes before pushing her between a higher stack and an old dresser. There was a maze built through the stacks of junk, haphazard and less than safe, but with a few hidden passageways that seemed more by accident than by design.

They moved into the narrow tunnel, easing slowly behind the dresser as the sound of footsteps began to near their hiding place.

Joe paused behind the dresser, crouched, and waited as the footsteps passed before moving slowly out of the impromptu tunnel and into a mess of old clothes hanging from a long rack. Maybe being a pack rat wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“Americans are so interesting.” Amusement filled the voice that spoke from just in front of the rack of clothing a second before the glare of a flashlight illuminated the floor. “Come out my friends, let us talk for a bit.”

As the rack of clothing began to move, Joe kicked into action. Before Maggie could do more than gasp he pushed her back behind the heavy dresser and opened fire.

Maggie scrambled through the unnatural tunnel, her hand fumbling behind her as she attempted to reach the revolver tucked into her back pocket.

She had just moved to the other side of the dresser when the boxes that lined the tunnel crashed around her, and cruel fingers reached in, latching into her hair.

“No!” Her fingers formed claws as she tore at the fingers holding her, fighting the grip as she was jerked from the safety of the boxes.

“Redheaded whore!” A heavily accented voice hissed at her ear as one arm was jerked behind her back, her hand pressed against her shoulder blades as she cried out in pain.

“Do you hear her cries, Merino?” the voice called out as the gunfire was silenced. “I have your whore now.”

She was shaken like a rag doll as she fought against the pain ripping through her shoulders and her scalp. She was dragged through the dimly lit garage and brought to a stop next to the man she had met in her home, introduced as Juan Martinez. This was Jose Fuentes, not Martinez, and he was just as frightening now as he had been the year before, when he met with Grant.

“She’s very pretty, my friend.” Jose gripped her jaw in his hand, twisting her face around until she was forced to stare up at him. “I warned Grant when he married her that he had chosen one he could not tame. I was correct in this assessment, was I not?”

She fought his hold, tears filling her eyes from the burning pain tearing through her shoulders as her captor twisted her arm more forcibly behind her back.

“Let her go, Fuentes,” Joe snapped. “She doesn’t have what you want.”

Jose Fuentes held her head in place, refusing to allow her to look over to Joe as he glanced to his side.

“Ah, there you are, Agent Merino.” His smile was sickly evil, a twisted parody of humor. “It is very kind of you to join us.”

“Jose, get the package from him and we will leave,” Santiago snapped. “We have no time for these games.”

“We have time for whatever I wish, boy. Diego is not here to listen to your sniveling. You follow my orders.”

Jose tightened his grip on Maggie’s face as she finally whimpered with the pain.

His teeth flashed within the expanse of scarred, dark flesh as he chuckled at the sound.

“She’s a strong woman. Women such as this, they fight the drug Diego created. They are the enjoyable little tramps once they succumb, both fighting and pleading for the agony to come.”

Maggie shuddered at the threat as Jose released her face and stared back at her sneeringly.

“I think I will let our Agent Merino live,” he sighed. “After I relieve him of the package it would appear he has dropped.”

Breathing harshly, Maggie turned her head to the side, seeing the shadowed form of Joe standing tall, his hands raised behind his head as one of Jose’s men stood behind him. The package was no place to be found.

“Let her go.” He nodded to Maggie. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“She has much to do with this.” Jose ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek as she jerked back in response. He chuckled a second before backhanding her. “Grant made certain he teased us often with tales of what a cold little wife he had. I do so enjoy breaking in such women. Frigid little bitches who think their bodies are too good for a little rough, sweaty sex.”

The pain ripped through her mind as the blow blinded her, nearly tearing her neck from her shoulders with the force of it. Sagging against the man holding her, Maggie fought to catch her breath as she heard the rough laughter that echoed around her.

“I will take Señora Samuels with me,” Jose stated then. “The videos make us much money. She will bring quite a price from those viewers who enjoy watching the battle between the needs of the flesh and the denials of the mind. I will take her in payment for my trouble.”

“Then you can forget the package.”

Maggie’s eyes widened as Jose’s gun came up to her head.

“I can kill her now.”

“Same deal. I know where the package is, you don’t.”

“I will find it once you are both dead,” Jose snarled furiously. “I do not need you to find the package.”