Renegade Moon (CupidKey) (6 page)

Another man entered the restaurant and crossed to the table where the Nazi sat with his comrade. Destiny noted the new man’s ordinary appearance and nondescript brown hair. He talked to the Nazi for a moment, turned and left again. He received only a swift glance from the brutish companion, still involved with his food. Yet, Destiny saw Eric’s eyes follow the third man until the man walked out the door. Then Eric quickly finished his water and stood abruptly.

“I have to get back to the ranch.” He tossed some money onto the table. “Enjoyed the lunch,” he added, and walked out without so much as a kiss-my-foot to Destiny or any of the others, for that matter.

“Excuse me.” Destiny stood, hoping to cover her confused embarrassment. “I have photos to download.” She refused to sit here with Iris Blake Rampton while that pale-eyed weirdo stared at her. “Goodbye, Lee. Nice meeting you, Iris.” With this she left, her new boots thudding softly on the floor.

Her car was hot in spite of leaving the windows cracked. She felt totally out of sorts. She stood beside the car a moment, then slammed the door and went into the Mercantile where she bought the dress boots, a ruffled denim skirt, and a high-necked lace blouse. Lee was standing beside her car when she came out.

“A little shopping?” he inquired with his boyish smile.

She nodded, returning his smile. He continued, “There’s a dance tonight at Wes’s Wagon Wheel. Would you like to go with me? I understand they’re having a good band, a local Country-western.”

“Why, yes, Lee. Thank you. What time shall I expect you?”

“Eight-thirty okay?”

“Fine. I’ll be ready.” With a little wave, she started the car and drove away. What a coincidence. The dance at the Wagon Wheel was exactly what had prompted Destiny to spend too much money in the Mercantile. Determined not to pine over Eric’s abrupt rudeness in abandoning her, she’d decided to go out and have a good time. She certainly didn’t depend on any man for her emotional stability. But going with Lee was certainly preferable to making her debut solo into local society.

Passing the Wagon Wheel on her way to her cabin, she stopped for a moment, snapping a couple of pictures. Constructed of rough-hewn wood and native rock, it sported the appearance of an Old West saloon. The area in front had been smoothed for parking. According to local stories, the proprietor had lived in the area for years, serving food and local color from a gaudily painted food trailer fronted by a small patio with a few rickety tables, while he constructed his dream dining and dance hall. It had opened not long before Destiny’s arrival and already had become a booming success, drawing locals and tourists alike.

As she started to get back into the car, Eric’s truck zoomed past. She half-lifted her hand in a wave but he went by too fast for her to complete the action. Had he not seen her? And why was he just now passing by, when he’d left before she did? She slid under the wheel but before she shut the door, a Jeep roared by. The driver didn’t even glance her way, but she recognized him as the fellow who had come into the restaurant and talked to the Nazi, capturing Eric’s attention. Had Eric been with that guy? Is that what had delayed him?

Curious, Destiny quickly wheeled out onto the highway in pursuit, but both vehicles were long gone. That Jeep. She was pretty sure it was the same one she’d seen and photographed at the landing strip.

“I didn’t expect such a big crowd,” Destiny shouted over the country-western band.

Lee grinned. “There’s more social life out here than you’d expect in such an isolated place.”

“New Mexico is full of surprises,” Destiny murmured, thinking of Eric as Lee guided her between tables. They crossed the giant cavern of a room with a dance floor set in the middle and adjoining band platform. Tables rimmed the area. One end of the central room opened out onto a covered patio. Scattered tables and benches furnished the patio, extending the western décor. There was a food service area on the north side that led back into the kitchen.

Wes usually cooked on weekend nights. Lee said it could be anything that struck his fancy, from Mexican food to barbeque to home-grilled hamburgers. He would have Chinese night with plates of stir-fried veggies and rice, and after a trip to the Gulf Coast, he returned laden with seafood and cooked up a feast still talked about.

“I wonder what he’s cooking tonight,” Destiny said as they chose a table.

“Barbeque brisket,” Lee answered, holding a chair for her. “Trust me, it’ll be out of this world. What can I bring you to drink?” Wes offered buffet and bar service only.

“Ginger ale.”

“How about a Margarita?” Lee suggested, stroking his moustache in anticipation. “They’re so good here that you can speak Spanish after only two.”

“Oh, no thanks. Ginger ale will be fine,” she declined with a smile. She gazed around while Lee fetched their drinks. The Wagon Wheel filled rapidly. Not many vacant tables remained. Lee returned, presenting her drink with a flourish.

“For you, my lovely.” He leered comically.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied, sipping. Again Destiny surveyed the room. She didn’t know what she sought until Eric George Montoya strode into the dance hall, sending her heart beating faster than the music.

“Well, the great Eric George himself,” Lee quipped, downing the rest of his drink.

Eric’s black eyes targeted Destiny. She couldn’t tear her gaze away. Seeming to take that as an invitation, he made his way to their table. She had to deliberately slow her breathing as she stared up at his carved copper features and into those dark mysterious eyes.

“Good evening,” he said to her in his deep, smooth voice. “I see you’ve already discovered our local nightlife.”

Before Destiny could answer, Lee spouted, “Hi, Eric. Join us?”

Eric glanced at Lee in silent reply and took a chair. He planted his strong arms on the table, drawing Destiny’s gaze to them. He wore a tan short-sleeved western shirt, a perfect complement to his bronze muscles. He had very little hair on his arms. She wanted to touch him. Instead, she folded her hands in her lap to thwart the temptation.

Iris Blake Rampton then blew into the room, leaving a wake of turning heads. She flowed on the scent of her expensive perfume directly to their table, her lavender chiffon dress billowing above her model-slim legs.

Destiny suddenly felt tacky. Defiantly, she sat up straighter and sipped her drink with an assumed elegance. She couldn’t allow this gorgeous female to steal her self-confidence.

“Eric, darling, are we joining Lee?” Iris cooed. She rested the fingertips of one ivory hand on Eric’s shoulder for a brief moment, pointedly excluding Destiny.

Destiny watched a strange smile hint at Eric’s lips. What existed between him and Iris? Had they really come here together tonight? If so, why did Eric enter alone? Questions that only led to more questions.

“Yes, please join us,” Lee offered, rising to seat Iris.

“Have you forgotten about Martin?” Eric asked, cocking an eyebrow at Iris.

“Martin?” Destiny inquired.

“Eric’s brother,” Iris supplied, fluttering her lashes at Eric. “He can pull up a chair.” She flicked her perfectly manicured lavender nail against Eric’s arm, adding, “Speak of the devil, and he appears.”

Destiny smiled at the newcomer. Without glancing up, Eric said, “Destiny, Martin. Martin, Destiny.”

“How do you do?” Destiny murmured, admiring this tall slender man with light chestnut hair and green-gold eyes set like clear pools in a patrician, regal face. His light olive complexion was smooth except for small squint lines around his eyes. He appeared cool, almost detached. Destiny offered her hand.

Curling his long, slim fingers around her small hand, Martin smiled, dissipating all that cool detachment. “My pleasure entirely,” he said, and for a moment Destiny thought he would raise her hand to his lips and kiss it. Then with a graceful move he claimed a chair from another table and placed it at the corner of their table between Eric and Destiny.

Martin smiled at Eric. “Now, little brother, aren’t you glad I persuaded you to come tonight?”

Eric grunted.

Martin turned his attention back to Destiny. “Tell me, what brings such a lovely creature such as yourself to Las Nubes?”

“She’s a photojournalist,” Lee Duncan volunteered, beaming at Destiny as if she belonged to him. It annoyed her, but she didn’t bother to protest.

Eric silently scowled at everyone before giving Destiny a little nod. “Want to dance?”

“Ah, yes,” she stammered, startled by his request. She stood abruptly, sending her denim skirt swirling around her legs, exactly as she’d hoped. A flash of pure fury blazed across Iris’s face. Lee appeared irritated. Yet the challenge that gleamed in Martin’s green-gold eyes puzzled Destiny the most.

Sweeping Destiny firmly into his embrace, Eric whirled her onto the dance floor. Dancing in Eric’s arms transported her to a tantalizing place between heaven and torture. For a moment he stared down at her mouth and she wondered if he would kiss her, right there in front of the whole world. He didn’t and a stab of disappointment shot through her. How would it feel to have his lips upon hers again? Her pulse raced at the thought, recalling how he’d swept her into his arms and kissed her so passionately and unexpectedly that day in front of the ranch house. One dark brow arched as if he read her mind. Flustered, she glanced aside but their strange connection remained intact.

Suddenly, Martin Montoya tapped Eric’s broad shoulder. “May I?”

Dropping his arms from around Destiny, Eric stalked off the dance floor.

“That man,” Destiny breathed, unaware that Martin heard her.

“Please excuse my brother. Sometimes he’s less than charming.”

Silently, she followed Martin’s graceful dance style. He moved with more flair than Eric, but didn’t possess the magic sensuality Destiny found so irresistible.

“Have you known Eric long?” Martin asked.

“Not long,” she replied, hushing an inner voice that insisted
forever.

“I suppose Eric’s never mentioned me at all.”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“Let’s see. I’m single, in good health, going on thirty-six years old. That’s seventeen months older than Eric. We’re actually adoptive brothers.”

“I admit Eric did tell me he has a brother and a sister. But no details.”

“Eric doesn’t talk much.” He cocked his head, watching Destiny. “Would you care to join me for a picnic tomorrow? I have to go back tomorrow afternoon, and I’d rather leave after our picnic lunch.”

“Go back? To where?” Destiny responded, postponing her answer about the picnic.

“The Double Bar-M. Near Johnson City in the Texas Hill Country. Now, about the picnic?”

Destiny realized she wanted to go. Why not? She might get some good photos. “What time?”

“Eleven. I’ll provide the food. Where are you staying?”

“Let me meet you. All my stuff is in my car.” He shot her a puzzled glance and she added, “My photography equipment. Where shall we go?”

“I know a spot on the creek. Shall we meet here in Wes’s parking lot?”

She nodded. The music ended and they returned to the table. Iris was talking to Lee while Eric stood a few feet away, conversing with a fellow as wide as a grizzly.

Destiny covertly studied Iris. The woman certainly received a goodly portion of attention, probably expected by such a striking female. Yet Destiny sensed something curried about much of it, as though it would be the same even if Iris were unattractive. Is this what rich people complained about? Never knowing whether they were liked for themselves or their money?

Martin and Lee left to fetch another round of drinks. From his glazed expression, Destiny guessed Lee had indulged in several drinks while she had danced with the Montoya brothers. She’d never even thought about Lee’s possible drinking habits. She had a dismayed feeling she’d regret coming with him before the night ended.

Lee returned to the table. “Dance with me, Destiny.” He swigged from his drink. “You danced with both these guys, now you owe me one,” he stated, reaching for her hand.

“And it’s your turn to dance with me, Eric,” Iris breathed seductively, bending slightly to display her cleavage as if offering him a dessert. Her rose-tinted lips parted in invitation.

“Okay, come on,” Eric replied in a manner offhanded enough to please Destiny. Still, as Iris moved close into Eric’s arms, she had to turn away, wishing that Iris would trip on those stiletto heels. And fall ungracefully flat on her fanny.

Lee and Destiny danced to a country-rock number, then the music slowed and he took her into his arms. She didn’t like his style of dancing, made even more difficult to follow by his numerous Margaritas. However, he didn’t seem to notice as he pulled her around the floor, humming off-key in her ear. She couldn’t help but compare her distaste dancing with Lee to the sweet sensation of being held in Eric’s arms. But then, no other man compared to Eric, to the wordless bond that wrapped around them, reached toward each other, when they were near. The way he’d looked at her when they were dancing, as if he knew exactly what her thoughts were. She knew she hadn’t imagined that. Yet when Martin cut in, he’d walked away without a word.

Wrapped in her musings about Eric, she almost forgot she was dancing with Lee until she sensed that ‘somebody staring’ sensation. She glanced around to see the same pale-eyed Nazi who had watched her earlier in the day at the restaurant. His bald gorilla sat beside him impassively. Catching Destiny’s eye, the man smiled and nodded. She cast her gaze down, then asked Lee, “Who are those men at that table over there?”

“Where?” Lee squinted.

“Never mind. You can’t see them now. That carved totem pole is in the way.” At last the song ended. She immediately headed for their table, leaving him no choice but to follow, or dance on alone.

“Now where are those men you were asking about?” Lee looked right in their direction. “Oh, you mean those two?”

Destiny nodded and he continued in an oddly strained voice. “Ah, that’s Miles Jard and his, ah, associate, Stoker.”

“Are they from around here?”

“Well, they’re here occasionally on business.”

“Business?” she pressed.

“They . . . buy local crafts. Ah. There’s Martin and Iris.” He stood quickly. “Drinks?”

“Not for me,” Destiny said, but the other two accepted. Just then she noticed Eric coming in the entry door. About a minute later the same man who had come into the restaurant to talk to Jard and Stoker entered, strode right over to Jard’s table, and sat down. At that moment, Eric took a seat beside Destiny.

“Eric, who is that man sitting with his back to us at Miles Jard’s table?”

Voice cut with a knife-edge, he asked, “How do you know Miles Jard?”

“I don’t. I asked Lee his name because the man was staring at me. Who is that with him?” she repeated.

Eric’s brow furrowed. “His name is Glen King. Why?”

“No real reason. He was talking with them in the restaurant today, too.”

“So?”

“Why are you so defensive? Are they friends of yours?”

He gave a derisive snort. “Not hardly.”

Destiny wondered if her idea that Glen King had delayed Eric’s trip home after lunch might be her own flight of fancy, but before she could press further, Lee returned with the tray of drinks. To her total surprise, Lee brought her a Margarita. He put a glass in front of Eric.

“Got you some Ginger ale,” he said, sitting down and raising his own Margarita to his lips.

“Thanks,” Eric said, and took a drink.

Exasperated, Destiny pushed her Margarita aside. “Lee, I don’t want this. You shouldn’t have brought it to me.”

Miles Jard approached, obviously heading right for their table. And his colorless eyes were fastened on Destiny.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, very courtly, holding out a hand to her.

Her gaze flew to Eric. His dark brows drew together, but he said nothing. She felt she had no choice but to accept. Miles Jard danced smoothly, without flamboyancy, and was easy to follow. He didn’t hold her too tightly or act offensively in any way whatsoever. But Destiny’s skin crawled.

“I haven’t seen you in the area before,” he said in a strange, flat voice.

“I’m here on assignment from a magazine. They’ve uncovered an army post and Native American camp nearby and I’m doing a story about it.”

“The one the Rampton Foundation is sponsoring?”

“Yes. That’s the one.”
Oh, song, please end!

“How is your assignment progressing?”

“Ah, very well. I’ve collected a lot of material. Enough for several articles.”

“Indeed,” he commented in his toneless voice, and finished the dance in silence. He escorted her back to her table, thanked her, and walked away.

“What did he say to you?” Lee demanded.

Destiny glanced at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what did he say to you?”

“He asked me what brought me to Las Nubes, and I told him. Lee, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I need another drink.”