Moonlight Lady Page 13

  “Yes, of course. Look, Sam, why don’t you stay where you are until we get there. It’ll take me a little while to arrange things. Let’s say we’ll be there sometime within the next three or four hours.”

  Sam thought for a minute. He didn’t want to wait. On the other hand, he knew it was the smart thing to do. One of Filoberto’s men could take Lisa back to Kingston, then he and Filoberto’s group could continue the chase. He needed backup; it was best to wait.

  “Okay,” he said. “We’re at the hotel. We’ll wait here.”

  “One other thing, Sam. We’re running out of time. I found out from one of our men who’s been working on the docks that the shipment of drugs is going to take place any day now. Once it goes down, Montoya and Reitman will hightail it out of the country. Our source thinks they’ve arranged for a boat that will take them to South America. Word is it’s going to pick them up somewhere near Port Antonio.”

  “Dammit!” Sam exploded. “If they get away—”

  “They won’t, now that we have an idea where they are and what they’re up to. But we’ll have to work fast.”

  “Maybe I should keep going, stay on their trail. I could leave Lisa here—”

  “No, you hold on until we get there, Sam. That’s an order.”

  Sam swore. “Okay, okay,” he said. “But hurry it up. I’ve got a feeling time’s running out.”

  “Three or four hours,” Hargreaves said, and hung up.

  Sam stared at the phone a couple of seconds before he put it down. He heard a click that could’ve been the Kingston operator, or the guy at the desk. There was a feeling in his gut he didn’t like, the slight prickle of hairs on the back of his neck. Something was going to happen, but he didn’t know what.

  * * *

  Lisa was the only one in the small hotel dining room. There wasn’t any air-conditioning, only a ceiling fan near the kitchen to stir the air.

  A waiter appeared and she smiled up at him. He didn’t smile back. He looked surprised, nervous. His jeans were dirty and so was the supposed-to-be-white apron tied around his waist. He wore a spot-stained blue kerchief around his neck.

  She ordered coffee and stuffed chochos, a tasty concoction made with riced coco, cinnamon and brown sugar. And absently wondered if the man was upset because she’d interrupted his lunch break.

  The food was good and the Blue Mountain coffee was strong, maybe strong enough to keep her awake. She wasn’t complaining, but she hadn’t had much sleep last night. Her muscles were sore from sleeping on the ground and from riding the Harley. She’d have given anything for a few hours on a soft bed.

  With Sam.

  Just the thought of him made her knees go weak. She felt as if she were on a merry-go-round, going round and round, spinning out of control. She’d spun out of control last night and she wasn’t sorry she had. What she’d shared with Sam had been special and wonderful. She was crazy about him, half in love with... Half? Uh-uh. She was in love.

  Maybe that scared her a little; maybe she didn’t want to be because she wasn’t sure how Sam felt about her or if he was the kind of man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. But she’d fallen for him, head over heels, end over applecart, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  She didn’t know what would happen or where they’d go from here. But for now she was sticking with him. Whither he went, so did she. Yesterday, when they’d pursued the motorcycle and the man on it had started shooting at them, she’d been scared out of her wits. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to leave Sam. She’d stay with him until this was over, then they’d talk about...well, about whether or not they had a future together.

  Smiling to herself, Lisa picked up the cup and took a sip of coffee. A man, not the waiter, stood in the kitchen doorway watching her. She froze. Dear God. God. God. God. Benjamin! The one who’d run after her the night she got away from Howard Reitman. He of the brutish face, the narrow eyes and the jagged scar.

  She didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. She looked away, took the last sip of her coffee and put a few coins on the table. With studied nonchalance she stood and, with her bag over her shoulder, started toward the door. Before she’d gone more than a step or two he blocked her way.

  “Why you be in such a hurry?”

  “Let me pass.”

  “Don’t think so. I think it be nice if you come with me.”

  She tried to shoulder past him. He didn’t move. Too quickly for her to escape, he grabbed her and pulled her into the kitchen. When she tried to cry out, he slapped a hand over her mouth.

  She came back with her elbows. He grunted and hit the side of her head with his open hand. She staggered and would have fallen if he hadn’t been holding her.

  “You gotta get her out of here, mon,” the waiter said, sounding scared, looking scared.

  “I’m goin’ to.”

  “What ‘bout that dude she be with?”

  “He’ll come after her. When he does, we got ‘em both.”

  “Where’s the Jeep?”

  “Just outside the door.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “No. You stay here, wait till the big dude come. If he ask about her you pretend like you don’t know nothin’.” Still holding Lisa, he reached into her bag and fished around until he found her lipstick. He handed it to the other man. “Put it beside her plate. That way he know she been here. I’m gonna wait in the Jeep with the motor running. Soon as he sit down and ask you ‘bout her you say, like you was real nervous, somebody grab her. Wasn’t nothin’ you could do.”

  Sam! He’d come after her. They’d trap him. Kill him. She struggled, but Benjamin held her in a viselike grip with one arm, his other hand over her mouth. She bit him. He smothered a yelp and hit her again.

  “Gimme something to tie her with,” he told the waiter.

  The waiter looked around, then yanked at the piece of cord that had been holding the kitchen curtain back. He grabbed Lisa’s hands and tied them. He took the spot-stained bandana from around his neck and stuffed it into her mouth. She gagged and he said, “That’ll keep her quiet.”

  “I gotta do one more thing.” Benjamin shoved Lisa against the stove, then turned and, before the waiter could dodge, hit him square in the mouth with his doubled-up fist.

  The other man staggered back. “What you do that for?” he cried.

  “It’s gotta look like you ain’t in on this. When he sees you he be knowin’ there’s some bad stuff going down.” Benjamin shoved Lisa out the door. He held a finger to his lips. “I hear somethin’,” he whispered.

  The waiter peered into the restaurant. “It’s him coming. The big American dude.”

  Lisa fought the gag and tried to scream. All that came out was a throaty, desperate moan.

  Benjamin grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her head back. “You try that again,” he whispered, “I kill you.”

  He shoved her out the door and down the steps in front of him, pushed her onto the front seat of the Jeep and started the motor.

  She thought about hurling herself out of the vehicle. Her hands were tied in front of her; she could break her fall, roll away.

  Benjamin took a gun out of his belt, laid it between his legs and, with one hand on the steering wheel, inched the Jeep forward.

  She had to do something. What? Dear God, what? Grab the gun, shoot him. Or the keys. Pull them out of the ignition and throw them away.

  She turned and saw Sam at the kitchen door. He dashed down the steps, gun drawn, crying, “Lisa! Lisa!”

  Benjamin gunned the motor and wheeled out of the yard. Sam ran after them. He got off a shot. It hit the dust just in front of the back tire.

  “Hang on!” Benjamin cried. She had no choice; they were going too fast. She grabbed the side of the Jeep with her bound hands, looked back, saw Sam running around the side of the hotel toward where he’d parked the motorcycle.

  Benjamin swerved around a curve so fast she came up out of the seat. He yanked her bac
k. She tightened her grip on the side of the Jeep, saw the speedometer climb to fifty, sixty, sixty-five. All she could do was hang on and pray.

  * * *

  Lisa! Oh my God! The man had Lisa. He was out of breath, heart thudding hard against his ribs by the time he reached the motorcycle.

  He swung his leg over the seat, gunned the motor and spun out onto the road. Ahead of him he could see the cloud of dust from the Jeep. The vehicle was going fast. Too fast. Dangerous on the curves...

  If anything happened to Lisa... Had to get to Lisa. Had to. But how? If he shot the tires out, the Jeep would swerve, might go over the edge of the three-thousand-foot drop...or smash into the side of the mountain. He couldn’t risk it. All he could do was keep going, keep the Jeep in sight and wait for his chance.

  Ahead lay a straight stretch of gravel road. Sam got the bike up to eighty-five and held it there. He could see the top of Lisa’s head, see her swaying, knew how dangerous this was for her.

  He shouldn’t have left her alone, but who in the hell would think that one of Montoya’s men would have been in Maroon Town? That meant Montoya knew he was after him. He’d sent Tall-and-skinny after them yesterday, and now the guy who had Lisa. Who was the pursuer, who the pursued? Was Montoya playing a cat-and-mouse game with him?

  Sam was a cop. He lived with danger every day of his life and he’d come to Jamaica knowing and expecting that there’d be a certain amount of risk. But Lisa had nothing to do with this, wouldn’t have been here if he hadn’t suspected her of being involved with Reitman. If he’d played square with her in the beginning she wouldn’t have given Reitman a second look. If anything happened to her it would be his fault.

  There was another curve ahead. The Jeep slowed to maybe forty; Sam went to sixty. He took the curve fast, leaned hard into it and gained on the vehicle. They were almost out of the curve when the Jeep slowed again. Ahead Sam saw a pile of rocks from a landslide practically covering the road. The driver of the Jeep had no choice but to slow even more to find a way around the rocks.

  “Jump, baby,” Sam muttered. “Jump!”

  And as though she heard him, Lisa half jumped, half fell out of the Jeep. She hit the ground, rolled and pushed herself to a sitting position. Sam gunned the Harley, raced up alongside her, stopped long enough to reach down with his left hand and grab the back of her shirt to lift her up behind him. She swung her leg over the seat and he half turned to help her.

  “Hang on!” he cried, wheeling the motorcycle around to go back the way they’d come.

  A shot rang out. He looped to the right and felt her grip tighten on the back of his belt. Her hands were bound, it was the only way she could hang on to him.

  Another shot was fired. Another. The Jamaican had turned the Jeep around. He was coming after them.

  “Lean into me,” Sam shouted. “I’m heading up the mountain.”

  She clutched his belt.

  “Now!” he cried, and zoomed off the road onto a path between the trees.

  Behind him more shots rang out. He steered the cycle among the trees as fast as he dared. Branches scraped him, slashed at his face. He ducked, but he didn’t slow down because he had to get out of firing range, had to lose the bastard.

  Finally he slowed the bike and listened for the sound of the Jeep. He’d lost it! But he kept on until he was in a density of wooded growth, just to make sure. At last he stopped, swung off the Harley and lifted Lisa down.

  The first thing he did was pull the wadded-up kerchief out of her mouth. She gagged, then coughed. “Easy, baby.” He reached into the saddlebag for the canteen, opened it and held it to her lips. “Take a swallow,” he said. “It’ll help.”

  She drank. “Okay,” she said. “I’m okay.”

  He got a knife and cut the cord that bound her wrists. She wasn’t okay. The side of her face was scraped and bloody from where she’d hit the gravel when she jumped. There was a long scratch on her right arm, a bloody cut on one hand. Her T-shirt was ripped and so were the cutoffs.

  He picked her up and carried her to a flat place under the trees, laid her down gently and ran back to the motorcycle. He returned with the first-aid kit, the rest of the bar of soap and the canteen. He felt her arms and her legs to make sure nothing was broken.

  “Hurt anywhere?” he asked.

  “Everywhere.”

  “We’ve got to get you cleaned up.”

  He took a piece of gauze and wiped the blood from her face. She flinched. He said, “Easy, Lisa. Easy, sweetheart.”

  God, this was tearing him apart. She was hurt, hurting, and it took every ounce of his willpower to keep his cool.

  Bits of gravel were stuck to her skin. He picked them out. She clasped her hands, but didn’t say anything.

  “I’m going to rub a little salve on the side of your face,” he told her. “It’ll hurt.”

  “Okay.”

  He touched her skin as gently as he could. She sucked in her breath, but didn’t move.

  He took care of the cut on her hand next, knew it hurt when he had to pick the gravel out. This time she gasped in pain and turned her face away.

  “Almost done,” he said, and felt her pain as if it were his own. Sweat dripped down his face; his stomach was in knots. “Hang on, Lisa. Couple of minutes more.”

  He cleaned the cut with the soap, rubbed on some antiseptic cream and bandaged her hand.

  Her face was pale and pinched. “Just the arm now,” he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “It’s only a scratch.” He cleaned the dirt and cinders away. “It’s not too bad, Lisa. It won’t take long. Hang on.”

  He wiped his sweat away with the back of his arm, and rubbed the antiseptic cream across the scraped skin. Finally he said, “All done.”

  “Thanks.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I guess we’d better get back on the road,” she said.

  “Not until you rest.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Sure you are.” He eased her back against the trunk of a tree and she closed her eyes.

  “They know you’re after them,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “And they’re after us.”

  Us. Like they were a team. She was scared, hurt, and she still said us. A couple of minutes went by before he could say anything. When he could, he said, “I talked to Hargreaves. He’s captain of police in Kingston. He’s coming with some of his men. It’ll be three of four hours before they get to the hotel.”

  Lisa opened her eyes. “But we can’t go back there.”

  “No.”

  So what in the hell was he going to do? Hide out until Hargreaves and his men showed up at the hotel and then try to contact them? But who could he trust? How many of them were in on it? Would Hargreaves be walking into a trap? Hargreaves wouldn’t be going in alone, of course, he’d have four or five of his men with him. Montoya’s thugs wouldn’t dare try anything.

  But him? Yeah, he had a feeling both he and Lisa were at the top of their hit list. Montoya had already sent two of his men after them. How many others were looking for them?

  Sam mulled things over for a couple of minutes. Finally he decided he’d better try to find a place to hole up. He’d get a message back to Hargreaves, let him know where they were and arrange to have Lisa taken back to Kingston.

  She’d closed her eyes again. The pallor of her skin looked stark against the scrape on the side of her face. She’d done the right thing by jumping out of the Jeep, but she could have been killed—could have hit her head on a rock or had the back wheel run over her. The thought sickened him. She was mixed up in this because of him. If anything happened to her he’d never forgive himself.

  He let her rest for a while before he said, “Lisa? We’d better hit the road.”

  She opened her eyes. “Where are we going?”

  “I don’t know.” He helped her up and put his arms around her. “Somewhere safe,” he said. “I’ll send a message back to Hargreaves. Don’t worry, Lisa, we�
��ll get you back to Kingston.”

  She rested her bruised face against his shoulder. Back to Kingston? Away from him? No, not as long as he was in danger.

  She wouldn’t tell him now, but when the time came, when they finally caught up with Hargreaves, she’d refuse to go. For as long as Sam was in this, she was, too. She wouldn’t leave him. He couldn’t make her.

  Chapter 12

  He found a mountain path and followed it, driving as slowly as he could, all the time aware of what the bumps and jars were doing to Lisa. She needed medical attention. He doubted they’d find any in the direction they were going, but he didn’t dare go back to the hotel. The best he could hope for now was to find a settlement of some kind, a place where Lisa could rest. Then he’d worry about sending word back to Filoberto Hargreaves.

  The captain of police would arrive at the hotel in Maroon Town in a few hours, expecting to find him there. He’d be upset, worried and furious. But there wasn’t anything Sam could do about that. He didn’t dare go back.

  He stopped twice to let Lisa rest. Each time he did she slumped to the ground. The scrape on her face looked red and painful, and blood had seeped through the bandage on her hand. She said very little, but he knew how tough this was for her.

  If they didn’t find a village or a house soon he’d have to stop, and they’d camp out the way they had last night. But Lisa needed more than that. She needed a clean bed and medical attention.

  Almost an hour went by before Sam caught the scent of wood smoke. The path widened and in a little while he saw a cluster of houses. Maybe there’d be a doctor here, a small clinic, a place where Lisa could get the attention she needed.

  He wheeled the bike into the settlement. A man was sitting on the steps of the first house, smoking a cigarette. He looked up, startled, when he saw the motorcycle. “Lord ‘a mercy,” he said. “Where’d you come from?”

  He was tall and rail-thin, with blue eyes, dark skin and curly white hair. He got up and started down the steps.

  “We’ve had an accident,” Sam said. “My wife’s been hurt.”