One Wrong Step (28 page)

“
Celie?
”

She bolted upright, and his world tilted. He trained the light on her face. She squinted, and then her eyes widened as he approached. She probably couldn’t see him past the glare.

“It’s okay.” His voice shook. He knelt beside her and touched her arm. “It’s all right, baby, it’s me.”

S
he was hallucinating. She had to be.

But he was right there, touching her arm.

She put her hand over his just to make sure. A flashlight shined up from beside him, making his face look ghoulish, but it was
him.

“Oh my God. Oh my
God,
how did you
find
me?”

He stared at her, wordless, and for a minute she thought she’d dreamed it.

But then his hands were on her. Touching her face, her hair, her arms and legs. “Are you injured?”

“I’m fine.” No she wasn’t. “I’m okay, I just hurt myself trying to get away.”

He was turning her arm, examining the cut. He picked up the flashlight and shined it down on the gash. In the harsh light, it looked disgusting—dried blood, pus, dirt, and dead bugs stuck in the mire.

“Fuck, what’s this?”

“I cut it—
ouch!
”

He’d bumped against her leg, jostling her ankle.

“What? What’d I do?”

“My ankle. I think it’s sprained.”

The flashlight beam shifted to her ankle, all purple and swollen.

“Holy fuck. Is it broken?”

“I don’t know.” She didn’t even care anymore, not really. He was here. She was going to be okay.

“Does it hurt?”

“Some,” she said. “I finally stopped to elevate it on a rock and took my shoe off to relieve the pressure. I guess I fell asleep.”

“Hold this,” he said, handing her the flashlight.

Celie shined the light on him. He pulled a strap over his head and unzipped something. He started shuffling through some kind of fanny pack or…

“Is that a diaper bag?” She eyed the bunny rabbits all over it.

His hands stilled. “Yeah, I guess so. I didn’t really notice. Marco threw all this shit in here—”

“Marco
Juarez
? He’s here?”

“Him. And Rowe. And Stevenski. A whole chopper full of cops dropped down on Saledo’s tonight. Must’ve just missed you.”

She felt numb. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you all came here.”

McAllister stopped rummaging and stared at her for a long moment. It looked like he was about to say something, but then he looked down, shook his head.

“What?”

He didn’t answer. He just took her arm in his hands and carefully turned it over. “Aim the light there.”

She did.

He took out the first-aid kit and tore open an antiseptic towelette. She tried not to wince while he cleaned her wound, dislodging a sliver of glass with his thumbs and gently wiping the blood away, the whole time staring down and avoiding her gaze. He got the gash cleaned up, but still he kept his head bowed, looking down at it. Even clean, it was pretty nasty. She probably should have had stitches, but by now it was too late.

His shoulders shook.

She dipped her head, trying to get a look at his face. She moved the flashlight beam, but he put his hand over hers and switched off the light.

They sat there together in the pitch-dark. Soft, strangled sounds were coming from his throat.

She wrapped her arms around him, and his big, wide shoulders quaked. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”

His body tensed. He sniffled and pulled back. “Shit,” he said hoarsely. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She touched his face, running her fingertips over his wet cheeks. “I love you.”

He pulled her against him and squeezed her so tightly, she could barely breathe. “I love you, too,” he said.

She turned her head and kissed his chest. His body was warm and solid under his sweat-soaked shirt, and she realized how cold she’d been up to now.

“Thanks for coming.”

He snorted. He started laughing, his shoulders shaking now for an entirely different reason.

“What?” she asked, pulling away from him.

“Shit, Celie.” He pulled her back, still laughing, and kissed her forehead. “Sometimes you kill me.”

McAllister had just finished digging the cactus needles out of her palm when the flashlight flickered and faded off. She pressed the button a few times and tapped it against the ground, but it was dead.

He cursed the flashlight company, then the battery company, then the Mexican countryside.

Celie smiled in the darkness. She was leaning against a boulder and sitting on top of a spread-out poncho with her ankle propped up. McAllister had scouted out this spot with the aid of the flashlight, and it was more comfortable than the patch of dirt where she had collapsed a few hours back.

“Did Marco put any batteries in that bag?” he asked.

While McAllister played doctor, Celie had inventoried everything. They had a dead cellular phone, one PowerBar, a first-aid kit, a tube of diaper cream, a pocket knife, Wet Wipes, and two sample packs of Enfamil. What they didn’t have were spare batteries.

Or water.

“No,” she reported.

“Shit. There goes our chance of getting out of here tonight.”

“I didn’t know we had one.”

His face glowed green in the light of his watch as he checked the time. “In three hours, Marco will be looking for us on Saledo’s road. I was hoping we’d get moving back that direction soon.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think my ankle’s up for that hike.” She didn’t want to tell him how much it hurt, but it really did.

“I was planning to carry you. You know, piggyback.”

She bit her lip, trying to keep her emotions from spilling over. He’d already been subjected to one of her crying jags yesterday.

She cleared her throat. “I don’t think that’s going to work without a flashlight.”

“Yeah.” He heaved a sigh. “If the clouds dissipate, we can use the moon.”

When the moon was visible, it cast enough light to travel by—barely. Problem was, it kept going into hiding for long stretches.

“Why don’t we just rest?” Celie suggested. “When the sun comes up, we’ll get going. Maybe by then Marco will have rustled up some help.”

John didn’t say anything, and Celie knew he wasn’t happy. He was worried about her injuries. Plus, they were both hungry and getting dehydrated.

“Okay,” he said. “But I need you to eat that PowerBar.”

He’d already offered it to her, but she’d said she didn’t want it.

“Let’s split it,” she said now.

While she unwrapped it and broke it in half, he got up and wandered a few yards away. She thought he was relieving himself, but then he came back and set something down on the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Have you ever eaten prickly pear?”

“No.”

“You’re in for a treat,” he said. “I’ll pluck the needles out of these, carve up the meat inside. You just chew it and get all the juice out.”

“Hmm…Can you make me a margarita, too?”

He chuckled and sat down beside her. He went to work on the cactus with the knife, and a few minutes later, she’d washed down half of the PowerBar with a dozen mouthfuls of slightly sweet liquid.

“Yum,” she said.

“Told you.”

She felt him stand up beside her. “What now?”

“We need to get you more comfortable.” He eased himself down between her and the rock while taking care not to jar her injuries. He nestled her bottom between his legs and gently pulled her back so that her head fit against his chest.

“Thanks,” she said. “This is much better.”

For a few minutes they were still and quiet, and the breeze was the only sound.

“Are you really okay?” he asked softly. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“I would have told you.”

She felt his chest rise and fall, his relief tangible.

“Good.” He stroked her hair away from her face.

“I think he was going to.” She told him about her interchange with Saledo during the skeet shooting. She felt better telling someone, especially now that Saledo was good and dead.

“What do you think happened to his nephew?”

“I don’t know,” McAllister said. “Since we haven’t seen any choppers or signs of a search party, the cops must have reason to believe he’s out of the area. Or maybe they’ve apprehended him.”

“You think they got him?”

He hesitated a moment. “In all honesty? No. My guess is, he hightailed it way the hell away from here. He’s probably in hiding.”

“You think he’ll stay there?”

“Maybe. I doubt it, though. There’s a power vacuum now, and someone’s got to fill it.”

Not a great prospect. Celie wondered if Special Agent Rowe ever felt discouraged by the endless nature of it all. The minute they caught one criminal, another popped up to take his place.

“I’m worried now,” McAllister said, his voice low. “He could come after you someday.”

Celie had been thinking about that earlier tonight. “I don’t think he will.”

“What, you spend the afternoon with the guy and suddenly you can predict his behavior?”

“No, it’s just…” She had nothing concrete, only a feeling. “I think he likes me. I know that sounds strange, but I think he admires that I took something from his uncle. I don’t think he respected the man very much.”

Celie nestled her head against John’s chest. They sat that way for a while, just breathing together in the blackness, and then she spoke up.

“I can’t believe Marco came down here.”

“Feenie sent him.”

“I can’t believe Feenie sent him.”

“She loves you.” He kissed the top of her head. “Same as me.”

She smiled in the dark and felt his warm hands glide over her thighs. Her legs were still bare, but he was keeping the chill away.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “If you want to keep trying to get pregnant, I could help out with that.”

A few seconds ticked by. “I thought you didn’t believe in having babies out of wedlock?”

“I don’t.”

She absorbed that for a moment, feeling torn. She needed to tell him something, but just thinking about it made her ache.

“When I first started spending time with you,” she said, “I had this notion that you could work some kind of miracle on me.”

“How’s that?”

“You’re just so, I don’t know, manly, I guess. It doesn’t make any sense, but I thought all that testosterone might kick my body into gear or something.”

His hands stroked her skin in a way that was a little bit sexual and a lot comforting. “That doesn’t sound very scientific,” he said finally.

“It isn’t.” She swallowed. “You know, odds are, I’ll never be able to have a baby. I don’t know if that matters to you or not, but you need to know.”

“I know.” He took her hands in his and gently settled them in her lap, making sure not to bump her bandaged arm. “Have you ever thought about adoption?”

“I wanted to exhaust the other possibilities first.”

“You know what I think?” His breath felt warm against her ear. “I think you’re going to be a mother someday. And wherever your child comes from, you’re going to love it, and nurture it, and take good care of it, just like you do every kid who gets the privilege of knowing you.”

She didn’t say anything.

“You gave all that money to the Bluebonnet House, didn’t you?”

She took a deep breath, blew it out. “Not all of it. But a lot. Did Marco tell you?”

“I put it together after something Feenie said.”

“Oh.”

“It was a gutsy, generous thing to do,” he said. “But please don’t do it again.”

“I don’t see what’s so generous about it. It was never really my money in the first place.”

“Still,” he said. “Promise me that’s the last time you do something like that. If we’re going to make this work, I need to know you’re not out pissing off dangerous people and getting yourself in life-threatening situations all the time.”

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like us. I have a few questions.”

He folded his arms over her chest and pulled her closer. “Okay, let’s hear ’em.”

She swallowed. Chewed her lip. Wondered whether this was crazy. Maybe she should stop giving in to her impulses.

“What you said a minute ago.” She turned to look at him. “Did you mean you want to get married?”

“Celie.” His breath tickled her ear.

“What?”

“I’m dying to marry you.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Really?”

“Really,” he murmured.

And then he kissed her. His mouth was hot and tender against hers, and she wished she wasn’t such a physical wreck. She wanted to mark this moment. She wanted to show him how happy she was.

She pulled away and looked at him. “When all this is over, will you take me camping? I want us to make love under the stars.”

“Hmm…is that a fact?” His voice had that sultry drawl to it. “What about tonight?”

“I don’t think my ankle—”

“See now, you haven’t been paying attention.” His hands stroked over her, warm and strong. “Your ankle’s not the most important part.”

In the morning light, the prickly pears didn’t look nearly as menacing. With their dewy yellow flowers, they actually looked beautiful.

“Gosh, this is pretty,” Celie said, looking out over the softly lit landscape dotted with green mesquite and silvery sagebrush.

McAllister grunted agreement.

She kissed his cheek. “Guess you’re not too interested in the scenery, huh?”

“Not really.”

For the past hour, at his insistence, he’d been carrying her, piggyback, toward the distant golden ridge that marked Rancho Saledo. It had to be three or four miles away, but it was amazing how fast they could move in the daylight on McAllister’s long, healthy legs. They were making good time. Even if Marco wasn’t waiting for them, the road to the house was sure to be busy with cops today.

“You okay?” she asked once again. She’d never been one of those featherweight girls men could carry around like it was nothing.

“I’m just making a list,” he huffed.

“Is it a list of all the things you’re going to eat for lunch when we get out of here?”

“No, this is better. It’s a list of all the ways you can pay me back for hauling you out of the desert on my back.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I owe you one, huh?”

“Yep.”

“You take checks?”

“I’ve always been partial to sexual favors.”

She kissed his cheek again. “How’s that?”