In the Enemy's Arms. Marilyn Pappano

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      Justin grinned. No doubt, the hotel his dive buddy had chosen was more than adequately substandard. The televisions, if there were any, would pick up only static; the mattresses would rate one thin level above the ratty carpet for cleanliness and quality; and the guests next door would likely be renting on a half-hourly basis. Back when he was young and foolish, he’d spent some time in such rat holes.

      He’d bet his brand-new buoyancy compensator and dive computer, neither of which had even made it into the water yet, that Cate didn’t know such rat holes existed. He didn’t know whether to anticipate her discomfort or dread her whining.

      Benita made a few turns practically on two wheels, quite an accomplishment for a vehicle as squat as the Beetle, drawing a delighted squeal from Rafael. The kid had pressed his back against the side of the car, his bony knees drawn to his chest, and was watching Cate with his head tilted to one side. Her presence kept him from his usual endless chatter.

      “You can talk to him,” Justin remarked.

      Cate’s gaze flashed his way, then she looked at Rafael and pitched her tone to a warm, cheery softness that she never showed Justin. “Hi. My name is Cate. What’s yours?”

      Rafael stared.

      “You must be, what, about four years old? And you’re going to have a new brother or sister. Which one do you want?”

      Rafael still stared.

      Without changing her voice at all, she spoke the next words to Justin. “Sure, I can talk to him. You just neglected to mention that he doesn’t speak English, didn’t you?”

      “Aw, gee, and you don’t speak Spanish, do you? Sorry, doc, I thought you knew everything about the life in the universe.” Suddenly pain shot through his upper arm. He jerked around the best he could in the confined space—which meant his head, neck and one arm were contorted around toward her while the rest of him continued to face forward—and scowled. “You pinched me.” She’d reached through the narrow space between front seat and frame and pinched him.

      “Stop fussing,” Benita warned, “or I’ll do it next time, and I leave bruises. Understand?”

      Justin settled back. “I’m sure she left a bruise. I think I can feel a knot forming as we speak.”

      “Rafael speaks a little English, Cate,” Benita went on. “But he’s shy about using it with Americans. Rafi? What are we having?”

      He smiled slowly at Cate before answering softly, “We are having a baby girl.” Then his smile turned sour. “No boy.”

      Cate’s smile came slowly, too, and was sympathetic. “No boy? Aw, maybe next time.”

      “Maybe,” he echoed.

      While they continued to smile at each other, Justin turned his attention to the neighborhoods they were passing through. He’d been coming to the island for fifteen years but had only a general grasp of the city’s layout. He could locate the airport and the various hotels he’d stayed at before buying his house. He knew where every dive shop on the island was, along with his share of tourist-friendly clubs and restaurants. But Benita had made so many turns, and with each block the street seemed narrower, the buildings smaller and poorer, the people on the street tougher. This part of Coz definitely wasn’t on the island tours.

      Abruptly, Benita slowed to a stop in the middle of the street and leaned forward to study the buildings on the right. Unpainted cinder blocks formed walls in front of and between the first three, one a store of some sort, the other two houses. A broken sign hanging crookedly from the fourth structure identified it as otel. She smiled with satisfaction and pulled into the narrow drive that passed into a courtyard. Nothing bigger than the Bug could have made it through without scraping the walls.

      “This is—” There was a squeak in Cate’s voice, and she tried to remove it with a deep breath. “This is where we’re staying?”

      Benita was still smiling. “It belongs to my husband’s sister-in-law’s cousin’s father. They’ll give you their best room, I promise. Wait here while I go inside.”

      He could see Cate trying to process exactly what “best room” translated to in a place like this. If the stubborn set of her jaw was anything to go by, she intended to make the best of it…which left him trying to figure out exactly what her best might be. As long as he was wondering, could he hope for cooperative? Maybe even quiet?

      Benita returned a moment later with a key and wiggled into the driver’s seat again. There was little room in the courtyard, but she maneuvered the car to the rear edge before stopping again and holding out the key. “Mario will bring dinner and Cate’s suitcase when he gets off. Tio Pablo can provide decent beer and a fine bottle of tequila if you feel the need. When this is all done, you’ll have to come for dinner again, right?”

      “Right.” Justin took the key, then unfolded himself from the seat. How had it been easier getting in than getting out? When he was standing straight, he shrugged to ease the tension in his shoulders while watching Cate climb out. She made it look so much more graceful: one sandaled foot braced on the graveled drive, all the creamy skin of her leg, muscles flexing as she ducked her head and rose out of the car like a princess out of a battered rust-flecked pumpkin of a carriage.

      She ducked to say goodbye to Rafael, then Benita. “Thank you for helping us.”

      “You’re welcome.” Then, with a grin, Benita added, “Good luck dealing with…” Her gaze shifted between them.

      In unison he and Cate replied, “I’ll need it.”

      Benita laughed as she shifted into gear and drove away.

      The number on the key was faded, well-worn by years of sliding into and out of pockets and the lock. The corresponding room was ten feet down the courtyard, so he headed that way.

      “Do you know I once did a medical mission on a remote, poverty-stricken reservation out west, and the place was cleaner and better kept than this?” she remarked as they sidestepped a trash bag that had been torn open on the scraggly grass, its contents scattered.

      “No whining, Dr. Do-Good.” He had to wiggle the key to get it into the lock, but it turned without too much effort and the door swung open. Surprised by the interior, he forgot to step inside. Cate got halfway around him before she stopped, too. After a moment, she went in, and after another moment, he followed her.

      “Wow. I never would have thought…”

      The room wasn’t fancy by any means. It was so small the two beds were twins, with barely enough room to pass between them. Instead of cheap-motel bedspreads, they were made up with quilts, and a spotless vinyl floor took the place of cheap-motel carpet. The bathroom was a real bathroom—no sink and mirror against one wall, with a commode and shower in a tiny room—and it was spotless, too. The lone painting on the wall above the beds was an original of good quality, the lamps were bright enough to actually see, and the air-conditioning unit in the window lowered the temperature with no more than a quiet hum.

      Justin made sure the door was locked, then set his backpack on the nearest bed. “It must be a family room, one they normally don’t rent out.”

      The only response from Cate was the closing of the bathroom door. Grinning, he folded back the quilt on his bed, kicked СКАЧАТЬ