Getting Lucky

Chapter 24

MIGUEL SHOT HIS CURVACEOUS PRISONER A triumphant glance as he drove slowly up Rosario Road toward the main highway. The sight of her bound wrists and the gratifying cautiousness with which she regarded him filled him with powerful satisfaction. He felt like dancing and singing, and it was all he could do to remain still in his seat.

"This is the third time I've seen you," she said when he glanced her way again and their gazes met. "Who are you, anyway?"

Intimidation was a potent weapon—the master sergeant had taught him that—and Miguel bestowed his iciest glare upon his enemy's woman and growled, "Your worst nightmare." Ha! He'd wanted to use that line ever since he'd heard it said on the television the night he'd played cards with the GIs.

Such a menacing statement deserved a respectful reaction—or at the very least something more deferential than the abrupt crack of bitter laughter that escaped his captive.

"Not tonight you aren't, pal," she said. "Ordinarily, maybe, since it's not every day I get abducted at gunpoint. But it's been a really lousy evening."

His wonderful threat was meant to instill terror, not disrespect. But not even the puta's refusal to give him his due could wreck his mood—he simply felt too good, was infused with too much power. He, Miguel Hector Javier Escavez, had accomplished his goal. And to think he'd almost given up!

He could only blame the low morale from which he'd suffered this afternoon on the sheer boredom of sitting around day after day after day , waiting for events that never happened. But that was of no consequence now. It had ceased to be important the minute the master sergeant and his woman had suddenly materialized, motoring out of the mansion driveway in the commander's black Jeep like a sign from Dios Himself.

Or not long after that, anyway. He had to admit that even then he had doubted the Divine One's intentions. But who could blame him? He'd found himself sorely disappointed on more than one occasion just when he'd thought his objective was in sight.

But he would never question his Savior again, for although he'd been afraid to depend on much in the way of results this time either, in the end his patience had been rewarded beyond his wildest expectations. He'd sat in his car and he'd paced the grounds, keeping an eye on Taylor's Jeep and the main door of the resort. But finally, just when he'd been sure his limbo would never end, who should exit the fancy white hotel all by herself but the master sergeant's woman?

Asign indeed. He hummed a snatch of a song that was popular back home.

His ebullient mood faltered, however, when he reached Horseshoe Highway and had to decide which way to turn. That's when it occurred to him that he didn't actually know what to do with the woman now that he had her. With an uneasy pang, he realized he'd never planned beyond the part where he took her away from the oh-so-high-and-mighty marine.

He turned on his left blinker, deciding to head straight for the ferry dock to catch the first boat off this island. Since the woman most likely hadn't even been missed yet, that would be the smart thing to do. But remembering how long the wait had been on the mainland dock the day they'd caught the ferry coming to the island, he hesitated. It would be the smart thing only if he could drive right on a boat and sail away from here. If he got hemmed in on a crowded dock, that would not be so smart, for the ferry terminal was the first place Taylor was likely to check.

He turned right toward Moran State Park instead. He needed to get off the main road and find a quiet place where he could think.

Lily couldn't repress the shudder that raised goose-bumps all over her body when her abductor pulled the car into a secluded campsite several minutes later. But her reaction had more to do with the memory of her last time in this park than the fear of the man who held her captive. Swiveling to face him, she wondered why she wasn't more frightened. To be calm seemed just plain foolish, for here she was, back in the middle of these darn woods, with the last of the light fading fast, in the power of a young man inclined to do only God knew what.

Yet for some odd reason, although she was certainly apprehensive, she wasn't terrified. Maybe because her captor struck her as little more than a boy, and she didn't get the impression he was bent on murder or rape. Or maybe it had to do with the nagging feeling she'd been snookered. Believing his claim that he had a gun, she'd let herself be bundled into this messy car with its backseat full of empty food wrappers and beverage containers, and its smell of sweaty young man. To compound her error, she'd allowed him to bind her wrists with a grubby length of cord. And all without ever having seen so much as a glimpse of an actual weapon.

His apparent lack of a gun could only be considered a good thing. So why did it feel perilously close to the last straw instead?

Well, gee, she thought with simmering resentment, you think it might have something to do with the fact you've had it up to your back teeth with being deceived by lying men ?

"I hate this place," she muttered aloud.

"What you like," he informed her, "matters not."

Her temper spiked right up to the red zone, and taking a deep breath, she concentrated on regaining control. This was no time to let her emotions get the better of her, but honest to God, it took every iota of willpower at her disposal to keep from venting her spleen. Between Zachariah and this arrogant young man, she was beginning to feel seriously abused and misused.

She quietly exhaled, however, and flexed her fingers.

Then, forcing a pleasant expression, she said in the most appeasing tone she could muster, "Please. Won't you tell me who you are?"

His chest swelled up. "My name is Miguel Hector Javier Escavez."

"That's a lovely name."

" Si . I am—"

"My name is Lily Morrisette."

He stared at her as if uncertain what to do with the information, but she merely met his confusion with a gentle smile. She remembered reading somewhere that the more real a victim became in a criminal's eyes, the more difficult it became for him to harm that person. She was all for that. "Where are you from, Mr. Escavez?"

"Bisinlejo." His chest puffed up another notch. "Where my father is major."

Ah. It explained a lot. The good-looking son of a powerful man—the sense of entitlement was the same the world over, evidently. Keeping her thoughts to herself, she strove to project an air of fragile helplessness by giving him a vacuous smile and a slight flutter of her lashes. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I've never heard of it."

He shrugged. "I would not h'expect you to. Americans' geography skills are very poor, and my village in Colombia is but a small dot on the map." Then he shook his head impatiently. "But that is—how you say—neither there nor here. Master Sergeant Taylor cost me my prometida —"

" Promet —?" Lily's high school Spanish was all but a distant memory. Then it clicked. "As in promised? You're talking about your fiancee?"

"Si."

She frowned. She'd pretty much worked out for herself that this was Zachariah's South American. Funny, though, that Zach had never mentioned anything about a woman when he'd told her that—how had he put it?— he'd had a problem with one of the nationals he'd brought back, but that he thought they'd put it behind them? Then impatient with her internal questions, she shook her head. No sense getting ahead of herself before she had all the facts. "Cost you in what way?"

"He is responsible for the stolen virtue of my Emilita."

Shock feathered icy fingers down her spine. "You're saying Zach had sex with your girlfriend?" No . The denial was pure knee-jerk instinct, but she didn't care. That couldn't be right. Any fiancee of this youth would have to be pretty darn young, and she simply could not see Zach messing with any woman younger than his own sister.

"The master sergeant didn't, no. But he was in charge, and he did nothing to punish the one who did." He spat out the window, then turned back to glare at her. "Instead, he stood in front of the entire village and told me she welcomed his soldier's filthy attentions."

And there was the rub, Lily guessed. Thanks to good old Tactful Taylor, Miguel had lost face. God deliver me from young men's egos . "So you have a beef with Zach. What does it have to do with me?"

"He is responsible for the loss of my woman. I am taking his from him in return."

What was she, a bone for a couple of scruffy mongrels to snap and snarl over? She felt the anger she'd banked flare back to life. But she managed to meet his gaze with reasonable calm. "I hate to burst your bubble, Miguel, but having me in your possession is unlikely to gain you what you want. Zach and I broke up tonight."

Outrage flared in his eyes. "I do not believe you!"

She shrugged. "Can't say as I blame you, since I can barely believe it myself. Yet, sadly, it's true. Why do you think I was outside without him?"

He sat and scowled at her for a moment. Suddenly, his gaze dropped to track over her figure, and she could practically see the lightbulb flash on over his head. "Then I will defile you."

" Excuse me?"

"Perhaps you are no longer his woman. But he would dislike it, I think, if another man were to make you his."

"Not half as much as I would, pal." A quick glance at his lap reassured her that the idea didn't have him all whipped into a lather either. But he was just arrogant enough to decide that since he'd decreed it so, the plan had merit, and darned if she intended to wait around for him to talk himself into the mood. Casually, she bent down and began fumbling with the ankle strap of her high heel.

He leaned over as well, peering down suspiciously as she clumsily unfastened the tiny buckle. "What do you think you are doing?"

She kept her head down to prevent him from seeing the rage she feared was much too close to the surface to disguise. "Taking my shoes off. My feet are killing me." The buckle came free, and she slid her right pump from her foot.

"That's because they are estupido . No self-respecting Colombian girl would wear chews so dangerous and ugly."

"Excuse me?" She slowly straightened, turning the shoe between her bound hands as she sat back up. "Did you say ugly !"

" Si ." His lip curled up in a sneer. " Muy ugly."

"You know," she said sweetly, "this has been a really crappy night. I put up with being dumped by my boyfriend, and I've been quite the sport, if I do say so myself, about being trussed like a turkey and thrown into this pigsty of a car by a self-important little chauvinist barely old enough to shave."

He blinked, clearly confused by the disparity between her words and the tone in which she spoke them.

"You think these shoes are dangerous?" she asked softly, favoring him with a great big friendly smile. "Let me show you just how dangerous they can be." And gripping the shoe between her hands like a high-fashion sap, she swung it with all her might at the young man's head.

He threw an arm up, blocking a fraction of the impact. She figured that was probably a good thing— otherwise she might have driven the spiked heel clear through his temple, and that was simply too gross to contemplate. As it was, it still connected with considerable impact, making a nasty, meaty sound that made her stomach roil, and she watched him collapse like a sack of wet cement over the steering wheel. Dropping the shoe into her lap, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and hauled his head back, gratified to see he was out cold but still breathing. She let his head drop, and reached to pull the keys out of the ignition. Then she bent at the waist to work the shoe back onto her foot, but didn't take the time to try to fasten it. Straightening, she twisted to reach for the door handle.

"Ugly, my Aunt Petunia," she snapped at his unconscious form. "I might've had to take all the other crap you idiots dumped on me tonight. But nobody, but nobody, junior, mocks my shoes and gets away with it."

Zach checked the magazine in his pistol as he headed along the second floor hallway. Seeing the group in the foyer as he started down the stairs, he shoved in the clip, slid the safety on, and tucked the nine millimeter into his waistband at the small of his back. His departure from the parlor in the wake of his conversation with Magnusson had been more than abrupt, and he halted at the bottom of the stairs in front of his sister.

"Okay, here's the deal. I have good reason to believe a South American with a grudge followed me up here and has abducted Lily. I want you to call the sheriff for me. Tell him the man's name is Miguel Escavez, and he's already approached Lily twice. Inform him he's probably driving a dark blue '83 Ford LTD with California plates." He recited the number.

Glynnis looked sick. "Oh, God, Zach. Will he hurt her?"

"I honestly don't think he will, Glynnie. But I'm operating under the assumption that he's dangerous all the same, and I promise you, I won't rest until we have her back."

"I know you won't." She squared her shoulders. "How did your friend manage to find out what kind of car he's driving?"

"Maggie said as soon as the word went around Pendleton that Escavez had skipped, a private came forward to volunteer that Miguel had won his car from him in a poker game."

"Okay, let me make sure I've got this straight." She repeated the information back to him, including the license-plate number, with no-fuss efficiency.

"Excellent." Hauling her into his arms, Zach gave her a brief hug, then held her at arm's length to look down at her. "The first time I met Lily, she told me you were a lot more grown up than I gave you credit for—and I can see that she was right. I'm real sorry I didn't do better by you, Glynnie."

"What are you talking about? You can be a giant pain in the butt sometimes, but you have never let me down." Grasping his arms, she gave him a shake. "Now," she said briskly, "where will you look first?"

"The ferry terminal. Does anyone have a schedule?"

"If you leave in the next five minutes, you should be in time to check the dock before the eight-oh-five loads," Christopher said. "The boat after that, which is the last to leave the island tonight, is at ten-fifty."

"Let Christopher and me check it out for you, though," David said. "Between us, we know most of the ticket takers, and we probably have a better chance than you of talking them into keeping Escavez's car off the boat if he's there."

"Thanks." Zach gave them a brief description of Miguel, then pulled his keys out of his pocket. "I'll head back to Rosario and see if I can pick up a trail to follow from there. Glynnie, can I take your cell phone?"

"You bet." She went into the parlor to collect it.

When she returned an instant later she handed it to him with a scrap of paper containing two telephone numbers. "The top one is David's cell and the bottom number is for the phone here. Keep in touch. I'll contact the sheriff, then let both of you know what he says."

Within moments the three men were climbing into their vehicles, and Zach followed David's car as it raced along the winding country roads. Reaching a crossroad, the other two men continued straight for the ferry dock, while Zach turned left onto Crow Valley Road to head to the east side of the island. Once alone, the hollow space in his gut began to spread, melting outward like a piece of old film caught in a projector. If anything happened to Lily—

Every word they'd exchanged tonight as a result of her evening-altering declaration played back in his head. He'd told himself that while he clearly could have handled it better, his succinct, dispassionate summation had been necessary to let her know in no uncertain terms that he could never love her. But who the hell was he fooling? That excuse was so full of shit it was a wonder there wasn't a cloud of flies surrounding it.

Lily had accused him of being afraid, and he'd blown the suggestion off. He wasn't a man who thought of himself as being afraid of anything that didn't result in death or dismemberment. But the truth was, he was terrified. He was scared right down to the ground that if he admitted to the feelings that had been growing ever since he'd realized how special she was—and then lost her when she discovered that he didn't have what it took to hold on to love—it would destroy him.

How the hell had he managed to keep the truth from himself, though? He should have known the instant he'd awakened from his dream the other morning and found himself oddly comforted by her presence, realized when holding her had kept at bay the old familiar sense of abandonment the dreams usually left in their wake. He should have known when, beneath his towering relief upon discovering she couldn't possibly be pregnant, there had been the tiniest spark of disappointment that an excellent excuse for hanging on to her had been removed.

Shit. On some level he had known. He just hadn't want to confront it. Exposing emotions was too much like ripping off your armor in the heat of battle. It left you wide open for the knife's plunge or a bullet's destructive, ripping force.

But the raw fact remained, he acknowledged as he pulled into Rosario's parking lot for the second time that evening, that if anything happened to Lily tonight it would kill him every bit as much as it would have if he'd taken the chance and they'd lived together for months or years before she left him. The difference was, he would have had time to bask in her integrity, her honest sexuality, her sweetness.

Right now he had nothing but too few memories.

He didn't know what he expected to find by coming back here. He'd gone over the area pretty damn carefully earlier. But he'd been looking for her then; he hadn't been searching for a clue that might allow him to follow her trail. He headed along the path that led to the point.

A few minutes later, he paused beneath the dense stand of trees to let his night vision establish itself away from the lights. This was pointless. He was following a concrete path, for crissake—it wasn't as if he'd find holes from her spike heels to lead him to her. Bending his head, he dug his fingers into the tight muscles knotting his neck.

A second later he realized the darker shadow he stared at on the ground wasn't part of the tree trunk as he'd first assumed. He squatted and felt a hot zing in his gut when his fingers slid over the smooth leather of Lily's little purse.

Slowly he straightened, the small handbag clutched in his hand. And an icy calm settled over his nerves.

He couldn't afford to race around blind; he needed a plan. But before he could form one of those, he needed to know if Lily was still on the island. He pulled Glyn-nis's cell phone from his pocket and punched in David's number.

"What have you found out?" he demanded the instant his future brother-in-law answered.

"Chris is up checking every car that loads on the boat, but so far neither of us have seen one that fits the description of Escavez's. And no one remembers seeing either him or Lily."

The rush of relief had Zach's spine bowing for a second. Then he pulled himself back upright. "That's good. The longer we can confine Escavez to the island, the better chance we have of finding Lily. And where I was ninety-nine percent certain he had her before, now I'm a hundred percent positive. I just found her purse under the trees near that little park on the point."

The other man swore, and Zach said grimly, "As long as I'm over here, I'm going to drive through the park. It seems a logical place for Escavez to go."

"Try Mount Constitution," David suggested eagerly.

"There's a lookout tower up at the top—he might have headed up there for the night."

"Thanks. I will. Have you heard from Glynnie?"

"Not yet, but I'll call her to pass on your information, and one of us will get back to you."

They disconnected, and Zach headed for his Jeep. He was torn. Most of him wanted Escavez to be somewhere in the park, since it was a specific place to search and his best bet for getting Lily back as soon as possible. But there was a fraction of him that remembered how much the place had frightened her the last time they'd been there. Then he stuffed everything except the need to concentrate into the back of his mind and drove up to the highway, where he turned toward the park.

His sister called to let him know the sheriff's office would be on the look out for Escavez's car. With renewed purpose, he continued on, driving slowly and stopping to peer into anything large enough to shelter a car.

When he rounded a slight bend and his headlights suddenly picked out Lily, carrying her shoes and limping along the shoulder of the road, he stood on the brakes and stared, unable for an instant to believe his eyes.

Then sweet relief flooded his system. "Thank you, Jesus; thank you," he breathed.

She stumbled to a halt and threw up her hands to block the light from her eyes, and rage exploded in his gut when he saw the cord binding her wrists together. But before he could react or even open the door to go to her, a look of pure panic flashed across her face. And, pivoting on her nylon-stocking-clad foot, she plunged off the road into the woods.