Murdock's Last Stand. Beverly Barton

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      When he lifted his eyebrows, she clenched her jaw. Damn the man!

      “Excuse me. Was that an order?”

      “Just a suggestion,” he replied.

      One glance out the window and she realized why Murdock had suggested taking a look at the city. A soft, hazy mist blanketed the entire area with a dreamlike atmosphere.

      “What is it?” she asked. “Some sort of fog?”

      “It’s the garúa,” he said. “A fine mist that settles over the city from May to October. The residents don’t seem to mind at all.”

      “You’ve been here before then?”

      “Yeah, I’ve been here before.”

      “With my father?”

      “Yeah, twenty years ago. And a couple of times since.”

      “On mercenary assignments?”

      “Catherine, stop asking me about my life as a mercenary. Believe me, you really don’t want to hear any details and if you keep asking, eventually you might irritate me enough that I’ll tell you.”

      “Is our truce over already?”

      “No.”

      “I won’t ask about your past again.”

      “Good.”

      Although a line of taxis waited in front of the airport terminal, Murdock steered her toward a waiting rental car. The way he casually carried the briefcase filled with $100,000 surprised her. He acted as if the satchel contained nothing more than easily replaced business documents. He popped the trunk, dumped her suitcase and his vinyl bag inside, then opened the door for her. There was something unnerving and yet reassuring about the way he placed his hand on the small of her back. She glanced over her shoulder at him, but could detect not the least bit of emotion on his face.

      Once inside the vehicle, he laid the briefcase between them, then reached across her and opened the glove compartment. She gasped when she saw the gun. He took the weapon into his hand, then lifted his jacket and placed it inside a hip holster.

      “How did that gun—” She bit down on her bottom lip. “I know. I know. Don’t ask.”

      “You’re learning.”

      “When do you meet your contact? Or is that top secret information, too?”

      “Tonight, at the restaurant,” he said. “You’ll like Jose. All the ladies do.”

      “You mean I’m actually going be allowed to hear what the man has to say? Gee whiz, I’m honored.”

      “Hmph!” Murdock kept his gaze on the road.

      “I don’t understand why all this cloak-and-dagger stuff is necessary.” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “I mean it seems fairly cut-and-dried to me. General Ramos wants the money. We want Lanny. A simple exchange. Right?”

      “When it comes to Zaraza, General Ramos and the rebel army, nothing is simple.”

      “Meaning?”

      “Meaning this is a game I’ve played before. I know the rules. You don’t. Why do you think Rick Burdett included me in this little scenario?”

      Catherine huffed loudly. “I’m not a complete idiot! I do understand that we’re going into a country that’s still involved in a twenty-year civil war and I realize how dangerous it could be for me. What I’m asking is why we seem to be taking the long way around. And why are you being so secretive with me? I’m not the enemy.”

      Gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled fierceness, Murdock gritted his teeth. “I’m not used to having to explain my actions, but here goes. I suppose by not enlightening you on every little detail, in not exposing you to all the so-called secrets, I feel as if I’m protecting you.”

      “Protecting me from what?”

      “From the rotten, stinking, ugly side of life. The life I’ve lived for the past twenty-odd years…the life your father once lived. I just figured Lanny would rather his little girl not know everything about the way he made his living.”

      Strangely enough, Catherine felt duly chastised. She actually believed Murdock meant what he’d just said. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps it was better if she never knew everything there was to know about the world of the mercenary soldier. After all, why not simply accept Murdock at face value—a professional bodyguard, with an unsavory past. A civilized man. Although not quite a gentleman, not a ruffian either. A man who lived in a tastefully decorated apartment, drove a new sports car and dressed well. There was absolutely no reason why she should ever know anything more about him.

      On the drive to Miraflores, the central cultural district, they passed penas—bars—open marketplaces and numerous restaurants. Despite its ancient past, Lima was a metropolitan area, similar to most large cities throughout the world. But uniquely, Lima pulsed with a slower, calmer rhythm created by the more traditional aura of its warm and friendly citizenry.

      The Pacifico Hotel was on the corner of de Julio Avenue and had a wonderful view of the ocean.

      Catherine soon learned that everything had been arranged per Murdock’s instructions and that the assistant manager, Hugo Mendoza, and her bodyguard were old acquaintances. Although her knowledge of Spanish was minimal, she discovered that Murdock spoke the language fluently. She couldn’t help wondering just how many hidden talents this mystery man possessed.

      The briefcase containing the ransom money went into the hotel safe before Hugo escorted them to the elevators. Catherine listened intently while the two men conversed. She could make out a few words, but derived as much from their body language and facial expressions as from what they said. She clearly heard Murdock refer to her as mi mujer, which she was sure meant my woman.

      Hugo grinned broadly and slapped Murdock on the back. “Ella es muy hermosa y muy alta.” He whispered something to Murdock that she couldn’t hear and the two men laughed. Then Hugo snapped his fingers for the bellboy, who appeared to be no older than eighteen.

      Okay, muy hermosa meant what? she contemplated. Very beautiful? How nice. What a lovely compliment. But what did alta mean? Think, Catherine, think!

      Hugo reached out, took Catherine’s hand and brought it to his lips. “I hope your stay at our hotel will be a pleasant one, señora.” His English was on the same level as her Spanish, so she assumed the wishes were a statement he had memorized and recited to all the female guests.

      She only nodded and smiled, as her mind continued puzzling over the word alta and also tried to figure out why Murdock had referred to her as his woman and why the two men had exchanged such boisterous laughter. Some macho thing, she supposed. Had Murdock been simply trying to impress another man or had he been placing boundaries around her? She had every intention of asking him, as soon as they were alone.

      When they arrived at their suite, Murdock instructed the bellboy in his native language, apparently telling him which bag went to which bedroom. After the young СКАЧАТЬ