Rafe rubbed at his front teeth with his finger. “That’s true,” he conceded amiably enough.
“We’re miles from the beach.”
“Yep.”
“And I’m assuming Ernesto controls that little airstrip outside town where I was supposed to catch a puddle-jumper to La Paz this afternoon.”
“Again, correct.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Do you know what a puddle-jumper is?”
He rolled his eyes. “Do you imagine I’ve never watched television?”
“Okay. Whatever.” She chewed on her cheek for a minute. “Did I forget anything?”
“Your skirt is ripped, you have sand down your blouse and your feet hurt,” he pointed out helpfully.
“That’s right. And you should get your ribs looked at by a proper doctor.”
He grinned at her. “If you weren’t such a proper doctor, I could get that sand out for you.”
It was her turn to roll her eyes. “You could use a bath,” she said bluntly.
He nodded. “You, too.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “And your feet are beginning to smell in those leather shoes.”
“Yours, too.”
“Because of
your
socks,” she huffed, insulted.
Rafe laughed. “Very nice. I save your pretty little feet from all kinds of bad, crawly, scratchy things by offering you my socks, and you disparage them right in front of me.”
“You wouldn’t have had to save my feet if you hadn’t dragged me halfway across Baja last night.”
“I wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t tossed yourself into my arms in front of two hundred people.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have had to do that if you hadn’t jumped Ernesto.”
Rafe’s dark eyes blazed. “He was pinching your—”
“I know what he was doing,” she interrupted quickly.
“Yes!” He jabbed his index finger at her. “And I didn’t see you stopping him, even though your mouth was still wet from another man. What kind of woman are you?”
“I didn’t know you were still in the room!”
His mouth dropped open at that. “What difference does that make? You only would have stopped him if you’d known I was still there?”
“No! I
never
would have stopped him if I’d known you were still there!”
He threw his hands in the air, looked toward heaven. “She is trying to make me crazy,” he said.
“Now, listen, Rafael—”
His head dropped forward suddenly. “Quiet!”
Olivia’s mouth snapped closed.
Rafe cocked an ear, closed his eyes. “Back in the hole,” he whispered.
“Oh, no—”
In the blink of an eye, he was beside her. How did he move like that? she wondered briefly. He grasped the back of her neck with one strong hand, her wrist with the other.
“Now, wait a min—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish. He wrapped one foot around her ankle and pushed her. She went to her knees, and he dropped beside her. For the second time in just a few hours—and for only the second time in her entire life—Olivia was forcibly shoved in a direction she definitely did not want to go.
“I don’t think—”
“Shut up. Get in.”
When she continued to balk, he turned her face so she could see him. His black eyes were just one tick off deadly.
“Right. Now.”
Okay, well, there was just no arguing with a man who looked at you like that, Olivia thought, and scrambled obediently back into the cave.
Rafe scooted in after her, pulling the sage over the opening as before, although it was considerably darker now and Olivia found it hard to believe anyone would even see the low crevice, much less peek in. She certainly wouldn’t if she were passing by, and she considered herself unusually curious about these kinds of natural formations.
“Rafael,” she began, but his hand clamped over her mouth before she could finish. Smugglers were not only untrustworthy, she thought, furious with him. They were also unforgivably rude. He hadn’t let her finish any of the last six sentences she’d started.
She bit his palm. Hard. He didn’t release her, just leaned forward and took her earlobe between his teeth and clamped down. Hard.
She squealed against his hand.
“If you don’t be quiet,
princesa,
” he whispered into her sore ear. “You’re going to get us both killed. Now let go.”
Olivia opened her teeth.
“That’s better.” His hand hurt like hell. The little fiend had practically bitten through his skin. He leaned back slightly. “Are you going to be quiet?”
Olivia nodded, her eyes never leaving his. He could just see the glow of them in the waning light coming from the opening of the cave.
Rafe slowly removed his hand from her mouth. He dug the thumb of his other hand into the palm, pressing down on the bite mark. He shook his head, disgusted with himself. He could barely move, he was so turned on. Pathetic.
Olivia couldn’t see him very well, but she knew he was furious. It practically radiated off him.
The low rumble of a vehicle—a big one, Olivia thought, from the vibrations under her bottom, and close—finally reached her. So, it wasn’t Bobby, after all.
She felt a little sick.
If what Rafe had said about Ernesto was true, the bandit had most likely just saved her life. No matter that he did it for his own reasons—reasons she hadn’t quite figured out yet—it was still a very decent thing to do.
And for his trouble, she’d bitten through his hand.
She tapped him on his shoulder, found the muscle there as tense as a bowstring.
“Rafael,” she whispered.
“Shh.”
“I’m sorry I bit you.”
Rafe said nothing.
“Did you hear me?”
“Be quiet, Doctor.”
And for God’s sake, stop blowing in my ear.
He shifted uncomfortably.
“But I want to say—”
He turned as quickly as he could, given the tight space, the sore ribs and the rushing of blood from his extremities to his groin.
“Olivia, shut the hell up.”
“Okay, I just wanted to say—”
Whatever it was she was about to say, she forgot in an instant as his mouth came over hers.
“Quiet,” he mumbled against her mouth. “Just be quiet.”
As his lips slid over hers, he thought to himself,
Oh, yeah.
Chapter 6
O
livia was too surprised for a moment to react.
Not that Rafael appeared to care one way or the other. His mouth—oh dear, that mobile, magnificent mouth—simply worked away at hers just as though there were not a couple dozen men looking for them, at least two of whom were just outside.
Or, maybe, just as though there were.
What was that study she’d read in Senior Biology, about danger being an aphrodisiac?
Rafe slid his tongue along her bottom lip. “Open your mouth,” he ordered softly.
No, she couldn’t do that. She was supposed to be thinking about something. Something about why he was so excited. About why she, too—like a rocket had gone off in her toes and was surging up toward the top of her skull—was suddenly so excited.
He dragged his teeth across her lip. “Open,” he said roughly. “Kiss me back.”
And there was another reason she couldn’t open her mouth. What was it, what was it?
Dear God.
This man was a dangerous criminal. It didn’t matter that he was less dangerous than some, that he did what he did for reasons he justified. He still did something illegal, something she abhorred in both practice and theory.
She pushed at him, but her limbs were pathetically weak. “Rafael,” she said. Rafe merely tightened his grip on her. “Rafael.”
She was saying something against his mouth, he knew. He just couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. He was desperate for her, felt as though he’d never been more desperate for a woman than he was now. In the dim distance he could hear the rumble of one of Cervantes’s tanks, but the sound only seemed to fuel the fire already burning out of control in his system.
He’d risked his life for this woman; she’d risked hers for him. No matter that she would never in a million years belong to him, belong in his world. No matter that she thought the worst of him. The adrenaline of the past day was zipping through his bloodstream like a drug.
He pushed her onto her back, cradling her head in his palm so she wouldn’t be in the dirt, and lay on top of her. He didn’t feel the sand sifting down his back, didn’t feel the ache of his bruised ribs or the sting of his blistered feet. He only felt the softness of her thighs under his pulsing body, and thrust forward, grinding himself against her. For the first time in his entire sexual memory, he was ready to climax before so much as unzipping his pants.
“Rafael.” He heard her gasp. He thought she wanted more, and he so wanted to give her more. He wanted to give her everything. He slid down her body and bit her nipple through her blouse and bra.
Olivia arched beneath him, unable to resist the drag of lust that pulled at her like an undertow.
Rafe heard the truck stop just outside the cave. It only made him more aroused. If these were to be his last moments, then he’d die planting his seed in this soft, beautiful—
“Rafe!”
Rafe froze.
“Rafe! For crying out loud, are you in there?”
It was Bobby. Rafe panted heavily into Olivia’s face. He was afraid to move suddenly, afraid he’d embarrass himself beyond redemption.
“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “We’re in here.”
“Thought so,” Bobby said. “Get out. I’ve got something to show you.”
There was a long silence from outside, while Rafe tried to gather his wits.
“Hold on a minute,” Rafe said, not in any hurry to see Bobby or the vehicle he must have stolen. “We’ll be right out.”
Olivia looked down. Somehow, of their own volition, her knees had dropped open, her legs wrapping tightly around Rafe’s hips. The front of her blouse was wet; it had come untucked from her skirt, and the back was probably filthy.
She pulled her lips through her teeth and bit down, closed her eyes tightly.
“Olivia?”
Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t hold them back. She’d so wanted to be able to stop him, but her body had betrayed her. She’d been writhing beneath him, a smuggler, a criminal, as aroused as she’d ever been in her life.
While her mind screamed imprecations, her body seemed not to care in the least what kind of man it coupled with.
Rafe’s breathing was nowhere near normal, and every ounce of blood in his body was still pounding south, but he thought it best to try and make some effort toward getting off this woman and getting out of the cave. He shifted slightly, cutting off the moan that pushed past his clenched teeth.
“Olivia, we have to get out of here,” he said carefully.
He felt something wet and warm drop onto his wrist where he held Olivia’s head in his hand. “Olivia?
Mi’ja?
” he whispered, and brought his free hand to her face.
She was crying.
He rolled off her with something akin to panic, and came to his knees, hunched over in the narrow space. He was struck dumb for a moment, alarm and confusion swamping him.
“Are you hurt?”
Olivia shook her head.
“Are you…scared?” He was at a loss.
Olivia shook her head again. Rafe could barely see the small movement in the deepening dusk.
“Then why are you crying?”
Even as he asked, the truth hit him like a swift jab to his gut.
The princess.
The damn princess. The daughter of San Diego’s finest Mexican society family was upset because some nobody from the
barrio
had had his way with her in a squalid little sand cave.
Poor little princess. She’d probably never been on her back before with anyone who didn’t have a doctorate or a Lexus or a condo on the beach.
Damn her. She certainly hadn’t been crying when that bastard Cervantes had his hands on her.
Every lifelong insecurity about his place in Olivia’s sort of world swamped him in that instant, made him forget that he’d forced her to believe the worst about him, that he’d terrorized and bullied her for his own purposes. In his mind, he was back in the
barrio,
running barefoot from immigration officers, keeping the secret of his parents’ illegal status a dark and mortifying secret. Waiting for the day George would come back and redeem them all. And Olivia Galpas was in the castle by the sea he imagined waited for her.
Damn her.
He locked his jaw against the self-doubt, bit down until it became a quiet, indignant rage. He was no longer a child, no longer a nobody.
“Pull yourself together,
princesa,
” he said coldly. “I would have expected a little more control from a woman with your…experience.”
Ah, a blow.
Olivia felt it right between the eyes. His voice had gone flat and cool, and even in the dim light she could see his sharp features were honed by his customary scorn. Well, who could blame him for thinking the worst of her? She certainly thought the worst of herself.
It was her fault, all of it. Every mad thing that had happened since the day she’d arrived in Baja California. She’d been so enamored of Ernesto, so impressed by his manners and his attentions that she’d never looked beyond them to find out for herself the truth of the man beneath. And now she didn’t know what to believe.
She’d been fascinated by this Rafael from the instant she’d seen him in that hallway, had let him kiss her, had kissed him back. She’d tossed herself in front of him, practically forcing him to use her to escape the
hacienda
and Ernesto’s bloodthirsty goons, and now…this.
“My experience?” she whispered.
Rafe was deranged now. He felt like a caged animal. He wanted to claw his way out of the cave, away from her tears and his unmanly vulnerability, and run. Pace. Howl.
“Yes, Doctor.” His hands were clenched into fists, his arousal finally subsiding. “With making love to criminals.”
She stared up at him. “I’ve never made love to a criminal. Except you.” If that had been anybody but Bobby out there she would have done it, Olivia thought. It left her reeling to admit it.
Rafe spoke through his teeth. “You’re an idiot not to believe me about Cervantes.”
“I’ve never made love to Cervantes.”
Why that should ignite some small ember of relief in his heart, Rafe didn’t know. It didn’t matter whether she’d slept with Cervantes, he told himself harshly. It meant nothing to him that she hadn’t. Nothing.
All that mattered was getting her out of here. He knew his partner well enough to speculate on Bobby’s plans. They’d forget about trying to get the communications equipment on the beach, would instead drive the two hours to La Paz under cover of darkness. There, they could make direct contact with their informants, and get Olivia on a plane for the States at the same time.
It was a good plan, and one Rafe suddenly knew was critical to execute. He had to get her away from here, away from him. There was something about her that made him crazy, something that made the pure and simple fact that he’d known her just a matter of hours completely inconsequential.
“It doesn’t concern me one way or the other, Doctor. We have to get out of here,” he continued coolly. “We’re going to get you to La Paz tonight. You can catch a plane in the morning.”
A plane?
She rolled onto her back, let her tears slide into her ears.
Home.
She nodded. If she couldn’t fight, couldn’t defend herself against this man and his sudden change of mood, the least she could do was move. If she could manage to get out of this horrible little hole, she could be in La Paz in a matter of hours, and then the nightmare would be over. She slid to her knees.
“Okay,” she croaked. “I’m ready.”
But as they crawled from the cave into the faded evening light, Rafe and Olivia stopped in their tracks. Two armed guards stood with rifles pointed directly at them. Bobby, his hands bound behind him, sat in the back seat of a Land Cruiser, smiling sheepishly with his teeth together, eyebrows lifted.
“I didn’t have much choice,” he said, as though offering an apology.
When the larger guard ordered Rafe to drop his gun, Bobby from behind him shook his head, then nodded quickly at the second guard and gave an exaggerated wink. Realizing the second guard was a
federale,
Rafe walked forward, gingerly placed his pistol on the ground and nodded almost imperceptibly back to his partner.
Bobby suddenly kicked at the car door with a blood-curdling scream. As the big guard spun around to handle the troublemaker, Rafe snatched back his pistol, sprang forward and swung his weapon like a baseball bat into the back of the guard’s head. The uniformed man dropped boneless, liked pile of dough, into the sand.
“That’s my man.” Bobby squealed with delight. “Give him a job to do, it gets done. It may take him nineteen hours to come out of a cave to do it, but it gets done.”
Olivia, puzzled as to why the second guard was so passive, turned to him. “Who are you?” she asked.
“He’s an old friend of mine,” Bobby broke in, jumping out of the truck so the guard could untie him.
Rafe tied the unconscious henchman’s hands behind his back and dragged him into the cave. To maintain the
federale
’s cover, Rafe tied him, too, gave him a lighter blow to the head—just enough to make a convincing lump—and dragged him into the cave, leaving a clear drag mark.
“We’ll call and have them find you by morning,” Rafe promised the
federale,
who nodded to say he’d be fine.
The road to La Paz from Aldea Viejo was paved most of the way. Unfortunately, they didn’t take that road. They took every other one, however. Or so it seemed to Olivia.
They weaved their way down the coastline like drunken sailors, taking first one impassable dirt path, then turning onto another willy-nilly. Olivia closed her eyes after the first few hairpin turns and washed-out gullies. She stretched out on the back seat and pretended she was on a sort of dusty roller coaster. Good practice, she thought dizzily. And she’d need practice in not facing reality if she was ever going to get over the past few days here in paradise.
Olivia stared at the richly upholstered roof of the Land Cruiser. It swayed, or she did. She couldn’t tell which. But she had to hang on to keep from getting spilled onto the floor. Bobby drove just as she’d expected him to. Like a madman. And he whistled most of the time, as though all this were nothing more than the greatest of adventures.
After the first hour or so, though, Olivia began to appreciate the sentiment behind the whistling. No one was talking, and Bobby was just covering up that fact with a little incessant noise.
She sat up again when the road became particularly rough, and Rafael looked back at her in surprise.
“I thought you were asleep,” he said, his voice gruff.
“I didn’t want to end up pitched into the front seat,” she replied.
Rafe turned back to stare out the window. She’d caught him off guard, or he never would have looked back at her. She looked terrible in the dim illumination the dash lights gave off: circles under her eyes, her cheeks sunken from lack of food and water.
“Where are we?”
“Beats me,” Bobby said, grinning at her in the rearview mirror. “But we’re heading south. I think.”
“About half an hour out of Pinchilingue,” Rafe said, shooting his partner a glare.
Olivia gazed out the window to the complete darkness beyond. “I can smell the sea. If it were light out, we could see the island of Del Espiritu Santo. I did readings there one summer when I was in college.”
Her sad little voice caught at Rafe’s hardened heart. Damn her again. Rafe pitted his eyes against the night, willing La Paz closer.
“I don’t know about you guys,” Bobby said after a minute, “but I could use some food.”
“What time is it?” Olivia asked.
Rafe looked at his watch. “Nearly ten.”
“We’ve been driving almost three hours,” Olivia said, mildly surprised. Perhaps she had dozed off for a while and hadn’t known it. “Why so long? Aldea Viejo is only one hundred and fifteen miles from La Paz.”
“Not on these roads,” Bobby said. He swerved around a boulder the size of a Volkswagen in the middle of a washed-out path. Olivia felt the Land Cruiser shudder slightly as Bobby caught the back fender on the rock as he flew past. He laughed almost maniacally, and Olivia smiled in spite of herself.