Iris Johansen: Blue Velvet

"Well, that's something. Providing the local sanitation company hasn't collected their trash."

She shook her head positively. "Not on Castel-lano. There's no sanitation department in Mariba. Everyone takes care of removing his own garbage."

"No wonder that alley was so unpleasantly aromatic." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Do those guards know who you are?"

"They've seen me around Mariba, I suppose," she said. "It's a fairly small city and Despard's been trying to talk Jeffrey into running the coke for over a week."

"Then we may have a chance, after all," he said. "Can I get around back this way?" He indicated a small passageway a few yards ahead and at her nod, said, "Give me that lighter you were using in the alley."

He was being very demanding, she thought resentfully. She wasn't used to anyone else taking control and she wasn't at all sure she liked it. Still, there was such command in his demeanor she found herself digging into her pocket and putting the lighter into his hand. "What are you going to do with it?"

"I'll think of something. I'm very resourceful," he said, mimicking her mischievously. "Give me fifteen minutes and go pound on the front door. Then find a way of distracting the attention of the guards until I get in the back."

"But I told you there's no way to break-"

"Let me worry about that." He was striding swiftly toward the passage. "You just concentrate on distracting them," he hissed over his shoulder.

"That seems to be my role for the evening." She sighed. "First Despard, and now his merry henchmen."

He stopped and turned to stare at her. "I noticed how you were 'distracting' Despard." His voice was suddenly crackling with menace. "His hands were all over you. I won't put up with that now that you're mine. Sex is definitely out, Kate. Find some other method or you might discover I'm a hell of a lot more difficult to deal with than Despard."

Before she could answer he'd disappeared down the passage leaving her to gaze after him with indignation and a touch of fear. She had a fleeting memory of her first impression tonight in the bar. That mocking, cynical facade obviously masked an extremely complex man and she had an idea he might prove to be just as dangerous as she'd originally thought. Not that he could prove any threat to her, she assured herself staunchly. After she'd paid off her debt she'd probably never see the man again. They were strangers drawn together by a chance set of bizarre circumstances and, once Lantry had what he wanted, he probably wouldn't be able to rid himself of her fast enough. Possessiveness would no doubt vanish as quickly as his other emotions. As for his lovemaking… no, she wouldn't think about that. It brought a queer melting sensation to the pit of her stomach and an aching tingle between her thighs that confused her terribly. She'd face that when she had to. Right now she had something else to think about.

She glanced down at her watch. Five more minutes. What on earth did Beau have in mind? Well, she'd find out soon enough. She only hoped that whatever he tried would be startling enough to catch them off guard.

His ploy was every bit as startling as she could have wished, and more.

The two Latin guards were gazing at her in half-suspicious puzzlement while she sobbed with an authenticity of which she wouldn't have dreamed she was capable. "But you must know where Ralph is," she cried hysterically. "They told me at Alvarez's he was coming here. He said I could come to him if I needed him, that he'd take care of me." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Jeffrey beat me…"

Suddenly there was an explosive crash of splintering glass and breaking wood and she didn't have to fake her dazed befuddlement as she saw a large garbage can catapult through the window at the opposite end of the warehouse. The can was immediately followed by Beau, who dove head first through the window, carrying a blazing makeshift torch in each hand. Tucking his head under, he hit the rough wood floor in a rolling somersault that would have done justice to a circus acrobat. He was halfway across the room when he sprang lithely to his feet, the torches still aflame.

Both guards had whirled at the first sound but had been so dumbfounded they'd stood transfixed by Beau's unorthodox entrance. Now he was only a few yards away and they were jolted into action.

"Madre de Dios!" The short burly guard bounded forward and the taller one reached for the revolver tucked in the waist of his jeans.

Kate reacted without thinking, leaping for the man's gun arm and hanging on with all her strength while he tried to shake her off. She heard a low guttural cry and the thud of a body hitting the floor behind her. Oh, dear heaven, was it Beau?

"Puta!" snarled the man whose arm she was clinging to like a limpit. His other fist shot out with vicious force and she felt a blinding pain in her temple. Her grasp automatically loosened and he shook her off easily, drawing the gun and back-handing her with the barrel. For a moment she was conscious of pressure but not pain and then there was an instant of darkness as the room whirled around her.

"You son of a bitch!" Beau's voice was so laden with icy menace that it shocked her into awareness again. So, it was the other man who'd fallen to the floor, she realized dazedly, for Beau was now right next to them. His eyes were blazing in golden fury and his face was granite hard. He was still carrying one of the torches in his hand and with one sweeping movement he enveloped the man's gun arm in flame!

The man's shriek of agony was terrible; he dropped the gun and started to beat frantically at the loose sleeve of his cotton shirt. His whimpering moans ended abruptly as the edge of Beau's hand swooped down in a karate chop to the neck, dropping the man in his tracks.

"Are you all right?" Beau asked, his voice rough with concern.

She was staring down at the unconscious man at their feet. The violence in Beau had erupted so quickly and brutally she was dazed. She noticed that the guard's shirt was still smoldering. She asked a little jerkily, "Hadn't we better put it out?"

"I ought to let the bastard burn up," Beau said savagely. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," she lied, moistening her lips. In that moment she believed Beau would have committed murder if she'd answered in the affirmative. "I'm just shaken up a little. I'll be fine in a minute." She laughed shakily. "But the sight of that smoldering shirt isn't helping very much. Please put it out."

He shrugged. "I don't know why you're so concerned." He reached down and carelessly beat out the last of the tiny licking sparks that remained. "This scum was probably first in line pushing the drugs on those kids you were so worried about."

"Maybe." Her gaze went to the short burly man lying unconscious across the room. "You're evidently very good at karate." She noticed the burning torch beside the squat body of the other guard. "Did you burn him too?"

"Not much. I tossed the torch at him as he was charging me. It hit him in the chest and bounced off." He smiled tigerishly. "But it threw him off balance long enough for me to get close. It's surprising how fire frightens people. I suppose it's because we've all had experience of the pain of being burned at some time or other."

"I suppose so." She straightened carefully. If she didn't move her head quickly, she found it didn't hurt so much. "It was very clever of you to think to use those torches as weapons." She smiled with an effort at lightness. "You were very impressive diving through that window like a circus acrobat."

"I was aiming more at Burt Lancaster in The Crimson Pirate," Beau drawled. To her relief the charged menace in him seemed to be dissipating.

"The Crimson Pirate?"

"A swashbuckling movie classic. Didn't you ever see it?"