Susan Andersen - Running Wild

And called out in friendly, faintly slurred Spanish, “See you tomorrow, Rosita!”

CHAPTER FIVE

AT THE SOUND of Mags’s voice, the man guarding their rental car whirled to face her. He had the excessively developed muscularity of a weight lifter lacking an enough-is-enough gene. He also looked like a guy who could turn mean as a snake with very little provocation, and that had her second-and third-guessing herself in the suspended seconds he stared at her through narrowed eyes.

Then it apparently sank in that she was a lone woman with weapon-free hands and the tension in his burly shoulders eased. He slipped the gun held close to his side into the back of his waistband.

Flashing him a loose, friendly smile, Mags pretended not to notice. But she thought, Gotcha , when she saw his chest puff out.

“Hola.” Adding a swing to her hips and the occasional faint stagger to her stride, she made her way toward him with the exaggerated care of a drunk. “I know every one in town,” she said as she reached the trunk of the rental and eased her tote down her arm and onto the packed dirt road, “And have since birth, so I know you’re not from around here. I’m Benita.” She pulled back her shoulders a bit. “Who are you?”

“Frederico.” He seemed to be speaking directly to her breasts, and even though her aim had been precisely that—to utilize whatever assets she had to distract him—she couldn’t help but wish she hadn’t showcased her boobs quite so effectively.

Not that she could do anything about it now. She tilted her head toward the boardinghouse. “Are you staying at Senora Guerrero’s?”

“No. We’re just here to see if someone we know stopped for the night.”

She made a derisive sound deep in her throat and doodled a design in the dirt that covered the rental’s trunk. Its hood was only feet behind the cargo hatch of Frederico’s sleek black SUV and he stood next to the rental’s passenger-side door. He stared at her, not even pretending he wasn’t checking her out. It was creepy, but luring him down here so Finn could work whatever magic he planned on the SUV shouldn’t be too difficult.

Despite the thug’s definite awareness, however, her near snort had his brows drawing together. “Are you mocking me?”

“What? No.” She managed not to sigh, but she’d forgotten about the Latino machismo. “It’s just that, other than you, no one of interest has stopped in this town for a very long time.” She waved a hand, staggered as if the action had thrown her off balance, then slapped her hand down on the trunk to catch herself. “Well, I did hear in the cantina that a couple of americanos are spending the night here, but I didn’t actually meet them.” She shrugged. “Not that I would’ve been able to talk to them anyway— americanos never bother to learn our language, you know?”

His expression said he agreed wholeheartedly, but he merely nodded.

She licked her lips. “You’re very handsome. Where are you from?”

He left his post next to the passenger door and swaggered down to her end. “Santa Rosa.”

“Ay! You are so lucky! I would love to see Santa Rosa someday!”

“You have never been?”

“No. It is far away and I have no car.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Finn slide out of the shadows. “But hopefully someday.” She turned to lean her rear against the back of the vehicle and patted the fender next to her hip.

“Still,” she said, tilting her head to look up as if she didn’t care one way or the other if he joined her, “I bet you don’t have a view in the city that can rival our sky.”

It was certainly like nothing she had seen for far too many years. Yet as if her first thirteen years in El Tigre had imprinted it in her DNA, it was a sight she’d carried with her wherever she went. Even in the dead of night—or in this case, earliest morning—the sky was a deep midnight blue strewn with a million stars. Many shimmered dimly and looked every bit the hundreds of light-years away that they were. Others burned brightly and seemed close enough to reach up and gather by the fistful.

Frederico merely shrugged, however, unimpressed. “Give me the bright lights of the city any day,” he said, leaning against the trunk next to her. He turned to give her a smoldering once-over. “I like looking at you , though.”

She brought a hand up to brush back her hair and maybe buy herself a few moments’ reprieve from the intent she saw building in his expression. Just in time she remembered the elaborate head wrap she’d created to disguise the fact she was a blonde. But the action brought her hand into her line of sight and even in the dim light she was sidetracked by how dirty her index finger had gotten from writing on the trunk. Without thought, she popped it in her mouth and sucked.

An unfortunate impulse, as it turned out, and one she regretted immediately. But before she could even grimace at the taste, Frederico whipped an arm around her and yanked her first to her feet, then into his arms. Her mouth went slack in surprise and the finger she’d been about to spit out slid free. Then faster than she could catch her breath he slammed his mouth over hers.

Her hands automatically flew up to shove him away and as they met the cloth over his chest it was all she could do to suppress the instinctive urge to push, and push hard . She curled her fingers into the fabric to keep herself from doing so and managed to stand docilely. But this venture had failure written all over it because docile was all she could pull off. She simply wasn’t a good enough actress to pretend she enjoyed this slob’s attentions.

Her brain was still rapidly looking for a way out that didn’t include her and Finn being gunned down or captured, when Frederico wrapped his hands around her hips and lifted her onto the trunk of the car. Then he slid his meaty paws up her waist, her diaphragm, clearly aiming for her breasts.

Oh, no. That is so not gonna happen!

Luckily, before she could blow everything, Finn materialized behind the cartel thug. She watched as he raised the gun he held by its barrel and brought the pistol grip down hard against Frederico’s head. The crack as it made contact sounded like thunder to her overstimulated senses.

Then Frederico’s dead weight came down on her like a felled tree. It was far too late to dodge out of his way and feeling his slack heaviness picking up velocity as it tipped her upper body backward, she feared his overmuscled mass would slam her head right through the rear window.

But Finn caught the cartel enforcer by the back of his collar and belt and hauled him upright, holding him in place long enough to move between her and Frederico and shove a shoulder into the thug’s gut to carry him in a firemen’s lift.

“Move,” he said in a low rough voice and stepped out of her way.

She moved, sliding off the trunk with alacrity to follow him.

In a few long-legged strides he was at the back of the SUV, reaching for its cargo release with his free hand. It clicked open and he took a large step back to allow the hatch to rise. He looked over at her.

For a second she could have sworn she saw fury etched on his face. But that didn’t make sense. And since he merely said in a neutral voice, “See if you can find the latch to pop the hood,” she decided she must have misunderstood. He bundled Frederico handily into the cargo space.

She picked up her tote, then hurried to open the driver’s door on the SUV. It took her what felt like forever to locate the hood latch, but finally she released it, then quickly eased the door closed to kill the light. She turned...and literally bounced off Finn’s chest as he strode toward the hood.