Prisoner of War Page 6

  “He left you alone out here?” He sounded indignant.

  “What makes you think it’s a man I’m waiting for?”

  “It is not?”

  She sidestepped that one. “Well, thanks anyway. But I’m fine.” She carefully retreated into the shadows until her back was once more against the wall of the building.

  He stayed where he was, watching her. “Americano, yes?” He spoke louder instead of coming closer.

  “Right.”

  “You wait outside because of the man inside, at the...table?” He moved his hands, clearly lost for the right word and apologizing for it. “I mean, he makes you afraid. Yes?”

  She stared at him. “How did you know that?”

  He smiled and his black eyes glowed with good humor. “I speak bad, bad English, but I am not bad here—” He touched his temple.

  “Yes, but how did you know that?”

  He spread his hands. “May I...come...?” He pointed toward her and back to himself.

  “Yes, come closer.”

  He came closer. Much closer. He stepped to her side so that she was forced to turn ninety degrees to face him. That pleased him for he nodded in satisfaction. “Now I see your face again. Beautiful.” He smiled. “You should not be afraid of me.”

  “I’m not.”

  He put his hand flat on the wall next to her head. “The man inside here, yes. I know you fear him because he looks...” He frowned. “Bad.”

  “Scary?” she suggested.

  He shook his head. “Only bad for ladies like you.”

  She found herself lost for words again. He had sensed her reservations about going inside, then. That took a degree of perception few men had.

  Behind him, his two companions called out softly in rapid Spanish. He turned and answered and waved. They headed back down the alleyway, leaving him with Minnie. He turned back to her. “I will wait until your friend returns.”

  “Don’t you have somewhere to go tonight? It’s Fiesta.”

  “I go here. The man I come to see is no more.”

  “Not here anymore?” she guessed. “Another soldier policeman person?”

  He puzzled that one out then shook his head. “No, not like the man behind the table.”

  “Desk.”

  “Sí. The men in here,” and he touched the building again, “they want to be at the Fiesta but cannot be because they have...disobeyed.”

  “Ooooooh.” It gelled for her. “You mean these guys have been busted for doing something bad and this is their punishment? They have to work during Fiesta?”

  “Sí.” His hand still rested against the wall, close by her head.

  “So who did you come to see?”

  “The one they call el leopardo rojo.”

  “The...something leopard?”

  “Rojo. Red.”

  “The Red Leopard. That’s a strange name for a man.”

  “Not his real name. Our name for him. But he has already gone.”

  “I see.”

  A small silence drifted between them. He was staring at her. He leaned closer. “Forgive me...but you are so beautiful.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  He lifted his hand toward her face, moving slowly so that he would not startle her. “May I?”

  In her entire life she had never had a man ask her permission to touch her. She was flummoxed. “Er...sure, yeah,” she said. She felt stupid. Why could she not have said something just as elegant and profound to him? He was making her feel gauche and young. It was a novel feeling. It had been a long while since a man had made her feel anything other than completely sure of herself and her power over him.

  He had long fingers. He rested his fingertip against her cheek and drew it slowly down her face—a barely there touch that nevertheless left a trail of tingling skin behind.

  “So soft,” he murmured. “I have never seen such beauty before.” He added something in Spanish. Something about keeping her next to him…

  Her heart squeezed.

  “Minnie?” It was her father’s voice, but he hadn’t sighted her yet.

  “My father,” she explained to the soldier.

  “Introduce me,” he said at once.

  “Really?”

  “I would know more about you.”

  “Yeah. But I’m going to need your name.”

  Surprise skittered across his face. “Ah, yes. Name. Yes. Captain Eduardo Peña y Santos.” He leaned closer. “Please say yes we can meet again.”

  An incredible thrill ran through her. He wanted to see her again! “Yes, we can meet again.” Her heart was hammering.

  “Minnie, for heaven’s sake. There you are.” It was her cousin Calli who arrived first.

  Minnie gave the man a reassuring smile, then looked at Calli. “Just having a chat.” It was a lie. Chatting was the least of what was happening here. Her insides were swirling and she resented that the moment was about to end. He was standing, his hand dropping away from her.

  “Dad said it might take a while,” she told Calli. “So I stayed outside to listen to the music. Calli, this is Eduardo...right?”

  He turned to face Calli. “Friends call me Duardo. I insist. Eduardo, I like not.” His voice was low. He held out his hand to Calli.

  Duardo.

  As Duardo took Calli’s hand and kissed the back of it, flustering her cousin, Minnie shivered.

  * * * * *

  As she lay on her lumpy mattress, Minnie shivered again, remembering that moment. Although she had not recognized at the time how true her instincts had been, that shiver had marked a barely conscious realization that somehow, this captain with the all-knowing eyes and the easy smile was going to turn her life inside out.

  She touched her cheek where it tingled in the wake of Duardo’s caress and felt dampness. She had been crying in her sleep.

  That was enough to jerk her into a sitting position, wide awake. She had been doing way too much of that lately. Crying wasn’t going to bring Duardo back. She had to work her ass off to make sure that happened.

  She dug under the mattress, pulled out her pouch of essentials and strapped on her watch. 8:12 a.m. The early morning breakfast rush would be over. She may even be lucky enough to find a bench with room to sit and eat at the table, rather than hauling her food to the balcony to eat from her lap.

  She dressed and hurried to the kitchen. She was in a good mood. The prospect of moving closer toward finding Duardo helped. Mostly, though, it was the long talk with Calli last night. Her cousin had been the first person to seriously consider the idea that Duardo might be alive. Calli could always convince Nick...

  The kitchen was busy, but not impossibly so. Minnie found Mama Roseta bending over a big pot of something boiling on the huge range. With a radiant smile, Mama Roseta pulled out a ceramic bowl and half-filled it with whatever was inside the pot. She filled Minnie’s left hand with chunks of freshly baked tortilla and patted her cheek.

  Minnie carried the bowl over to one of the tables. There was room. She climbed over the bench and tucked into her breakfast. It was some sort of stew—a touch of spice and lumps of vegetable and meat that was so soft it fell apart. She didn’t need a knife.

  A hand rested on her shoulder. Calli sat on the bench beside her, holding a coffee cup. She didn’t climb over but sat with her back to the table. “You’re up late,” she told Minnie.

  “Sweet dreams. I wanted to stay and keep dreaming,” Minnie confessed around a mouthful of tortilla and meat.

  Calli smiled. “Duardo?”

  “Who else?”

  The big screen door that led out to the service driveway slammed shut, alerting the entire kitchen of a new arrival.

  Carmen stood framed by the early morning sunshine pouring through the door.

  From her clothes, it looked as though she had been out all night. She wore black patent leather ankle boots with high slender heels and a miniskirt in pleated red tartan. It was so short there was no way Carmen could bend over or
even crouch and not give a full display to anyone in the vicinity. The top of the skirt skimmed over her prominent hip bones. She wore a sleeveless black denim jacket that stopped an inch or two above her waist. It hung unfastened, showing off her flat, taut abs and the glittering belly ring. Between the gaping jacket, the lace of her red and black bra was on display. Her hair, with the colorful highlights, had been backcombed and tumbled down to the back of her hips. It made Minnie think of Jane Fonda in one of her Sixties bombshell outfits.

  Carmen took off her sunglasses and looked around the kitchen. “Mama Roseta!” she cried in a throaty, used voice. “Please tell me you have coffee,” she said in Spanish. “Good coffee! I have to pull myself together.”

  As she spoke, she strode across the kitchen, her hips swinging, heading for Mama Roseta at the range.

  As she passed Calli and Minnie, Calli coughed and spluttered over her mouthful of coffee. Minnie turned to see what had startled her and got to see Carmen walking away from her.

  Carmen’s skirt was so short, the bottom of her buttocks were on display. The woman was either wearing a thong or no panties at all, for her coffee-cream cheeks were as bare as the rest of her long, slender legs.

  Minnie couldn’t help it. The words spilled out of her mouth, “What’s wrong, Carmen? Tips light last night?”

  Carmen turned to face her, her expression rigid, her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

  “Minnie, don’t!” Calli whispered.

  “Clearly, you can’t afford the bottom half of your skirt.” Minnie pushed her bowl away from her, her appetite gone. “So that makes you...what? A shitty accountant, or a bad whore?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Carmen asked, switching to English and taking a step toward her.

  Minnie slipped her legs over the bench so she was facing the same way as Calli. “Are you sure you don’t understand, honey? Because that right there, I gotta say, is proof that it’s not your counting skills or the way you fuck that is the problem. It’s clearly the complete absence of a brain.”

  “You motherfucker!” Carmen screamed in Spanish, stamping her foot. “I will boil your gonads!”

  Mama Roseta sucked in her breath and stirred her pot busily.

  Minnie stood up and swept invisible crumbs off her T-shirt. “Whatever,” she said over her shoulder, heading for the door. She felt a warm glow of satisfaction because she’d left the perfect Ms. Carmen speechless.

  “Carmen, no!” Calli cried. “Minnie, watch out!”

  Carmen slammed into Minnie from behind, sending her flying across the tiled floor to slither into the leg of one of the benches. Her shoulder took the impact. She couldn’t scream or cry out—her breath had been snatched by her surprise.

  Carmen was on top of her and despite Carmen’s slenderness, she was all muscle and heavy. She leaned over Minnie. “At least I’m not stupid enough to get the men I sleep with killed.” She spat in Minnie’s face.

  Minnie wasn’t aware of the decision to move but she surged to her feet, the pain in her shoulder forgotten. The movement dislodged Carmen and sent her sprawling across the tiles, proving that she was wearing a thong, after all.

  It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. The huge swell of heat and pain and fury inside her wasn’t satisfied by merely dropping Carmen on her ass. Minnie stood with her chest heaving, unable to think of words that would exorcise the shockwave of emotions Carmen had initiated. There were no words that would do.

  So Minnie threw herself at the woman instead.

  * * * * *

  Calli stood frozen for a moment, unable to comprehend that two grown women were rolling on the tiles, tearing at each other’s hair, kicking, punching and scratching. Then her mind clicked back into gear and she moved forward, cautiously trying to figure out a way to separate them.

  Most of the people in the kitchen had gathered around them. It was an echo of schoolyard fights, except these people were not cheering and encouraging the pair. They were watching with expressions that ranged from amusement to outright horror. Calli thought she understood the horror. They were watching an American woman trying to beat the crap out of their beloved president’s daughter.

  It gave her one more reason to pull them apart as soon as possible. She had to minimize the damage this would cause.

  Strong hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her off her feet. She was carried out of the ragged circle surrounding the two rolling women and placed back on her feet. She twisted around, only nominally surprised to find it was Nick who had her. “We must stop this!” she said.

  “No. Let them go.” He turned back to watch the fight. “Let them fight it out.”

  Calli bit her lip. “These people will only see Minnie beating up Escobedo’s daughter!”

  He kept his eyes on the fight. “Even locked up in the boardroom I heard a repeat of what Carmen said to Minnie.” He shook his head. “We’ll let it run itself out.”

  Carmen and Minnie got to their feet, staring at each other balefully. Carmen was far taller than Minnie and probably outweighed her. Minnie, though, had a light in her eyes Calli had never seen before.

  Minnie reached out for one of the cast iron pots sitting on the table by her hip and weighed it in her hands.

  Carmen lunged for the chopping knife in Mama Roseta hands and whipped it up. “Ha!” she crowed.

  Nick moved fast. He grabbed Carmen’s wrist and wrenched the knife out of it. “No, you don’t,” he said. “You want a piece of her, you take it with your own hands.” He glanced at Minnie. “You too.”

  Minnie put the pot down. “Right.” She curled her hands into fists. “No problem.” She rushed forward and barely before Nick had stepped away, threw a punch that took Carmen in the jaw. Hard.

  Carmen staggered backward but recovered and surged forward, her own fists flailing.

  The fight lasted another three bloody minutes. Calli watched, amazed, as the two women sank to the floor, staring at each other and panting, the adrenaline and energy gone. Both had split lips and Carmen had a bloodied nose. There were scrapes and cuts on both of them. Carmen’s skin had fared worse because she had more of it exposed.

  Nick waded in. He grabbed Carmen’s arm and hauled her to her feet. “You come with me. You too, Calli. You need to hear this.” He lifted his voice. “Everyone else—go back to what you were doing.” He repeated it in Spanish and reluctantly, the people who had gathered separated and went about their affairs.

  “Josh, take care of Minnie,” Nick said. Calli was startled to realize her uncle had been in the room all along. Josh moved around Carmen and halted. “Where did she go?”

  The space where Minnie had been sitting was empty.

  * * * * *

  Nick pushed open the door to the dining room. Past his shoulder, Calli saw about twenty men sitting around the table look up. All twenty jaws descended rapidly as they took in Carmen’s state.

  Carmen stared at the floor, as sulky as any school girl.

  “Gentlemen, I need the room,” Nick said.

  At once, they scrambled to their feet and headed for the doors. Nick pushed Carmen inside and strode around the room, shutting the sets of doors.

  Calli moved down to the sideboard, dug ice from the ice bucket and wrapped it in a napkin. She handed it to Carmen. “For your lip.”

  Nick shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at his niece. “This time you’ve pushed my tolerance too far, Carmen.”

  She looked him in the eye. “That little Americana had it coming. Did you hear what she said to me?”

  “I have absolutely no doubt she was provoked into it. I have no intention of opening up an investigation to figure out who said what because it would be redundant. The fact is, I’ve given you too much freedom and tolerated too much of your abuse under the mistaken assumption that you should be given time to come to terms with your father’s death, in whatever way you needed to do it.”

  “You dare—”

  Nick sliced his hand through the
air in a cutting motion. “Enough!” he roared.

  Carmen shut up, but Calli could see that mentally she had not backed down an inch.

  Nick took a breath. When he spoke again it was in a soft, controlled tone. “You’re behaving as badly as Minnie, if not worse. The parties, the men...” He waved a hand at her clothes.

  “Minnie, Minnie, Minnie,” Carmen spat back. She dumped the napkin on the tabletop with a muffled thud. “She isn’t the fucking orphan here, but everyone rallies around her as if she is.”

  Nick held still. Carmen had hurt him. “You know I am here for you.”

  “Is that your own guilt, Uncle? I read the papers too. I’ve been around you and my father long enough to understand that she,” she spun to point at Calli, “is the reason the rebels kicked you out of Vistaria so fast.”

  Calli swallowed. This was a fact she had wrestled with herself. Getting pissed at Carmen would just make her a hypocrite. She held her teeth together tightly, riding out the humiliation of having Carmen speak it aloud.

  “These American women are destroying our country,” Carmen added.

  “These American women,” Nick returned, “are the reason we still have a toehold on our country at all. If you’ve only confined your reading to tabloid headlines, then your four years at Harvard were a complete waste and that’s a disappointment to me.” He again took a controlling, calming breath. “Calli personally saved the life of one of Vistaria’s most gifted captains. If she had not, then he would not have been in Pascuallita when the Insurrectos made their move. He would not have rallied what was left of the personnel on the base and led them and held them together for another twenty-four hours.”

  “So what? The base still fell.”

  “Yes, but twenty-four hours later than it would have if he had not been there. Do you not understand how many lives that saved? Not soldiers’ lives, but common Vistarian lives? While the base stood, Pascuallita stood. While Pascuallita was held, the civilians had a chance to flee to the coast and escape the island.” Nick waved his hand toward Calli. “Because she saved his life, she saved the lives of thousands of others. Do not ever denigrate what Calli and Minnie have done, because they have done far more to help Vistaria than you.”