Stranger Danger (9 page)

In a hoarse whisper, she did.
“Until
you came.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with
meaning.
 
Santiago nodded.
 
“I understand, so much more than you probably
think.
 
I recognized the stark emptiness
of your place, because it was like mine.
 
Although, I haven’t had been to my place for almost two years, but as
you can see, I travel light.”

He touched his duffel bag and she nodded. Santiago
touched her face with his fingers, stroked her cheek. “Tell me how your husband
died.”

Sara shivered with a cold chill, more emotional than
physical in the warm room. “He drowned,” she said. “He went fishing alone on
the lake and he apparently was driving the boat too fast.
 
He hit another boat and the impact knocked
him into the water.
 
He’d been drinking,
the coroner said, and he drowned.”

She had no tears, no true grief but a terrible,
gnawing guilt, the kind eating away at her soul with destructive power.
 
“How is that your fault,
querida
? You weren’t even there.”

Memory slammed her with force, but she answered him.
“He asked me to go with him and I said ‘no’.
 
Instead, I told him I wanted a divorce.
 
By then, I knew I’d made a mistake, and I wanted to go back to LA.”

Understanding flooded his face. “And he didn’t like
the idea?”

“He was angry,” Sara said. “He left in a wild rage,
upset and cussing me.
 
Witness on the
lake said he was reckless before the accident.”

“Why do you think it’s your fault?”

Sara sighed. “He was normally very safety conscious.
 
But he took chances that day because of
me.
 
He left me a message on my phone, a
long rant and accused me of being unfaithful.
 
Those are the last words he said to me, Santiago.
 
I wasn’t, though.”

“I never thought you would
be,
la muñequita.
 
Did he have someone in mind?”

If she didn’t say it now, she never would. “You. He
suspected you.”

His face shifted into a bland mask and he went
still. “Why?”

The single word spoke volumes. Sara closed her eyes
for a long moment and then met his gaze. “Because he knew how much I loved
you,” she said, misery sharp as a knife in her chest. “And because I told him I
was going back to California to see if I could find you again.”

Santiago sat up, slow and easy.
 
He opened his right arm and she moved toward
him.
 
He folded her into his embrace.
“Oh, Sara,” he said, his voice ragged with emotion. “I wish you had, very
much.
 
Things might be so different now.
 
But why didn’t you?”

She hurt too much for tears.
 
“I had so much guilt.
 
I thought I’d killed him and sometimes, I
still do.
 
I decided not to go, to leave
you alone because maybe I’d bring nothing but pain and hurt with me.
 
And I stopped living until you knocked on my
door. God, was it just yesterday?”

“
Si.”
Sara rested her head
against his chest for a moment,
then
realized he
radiated warmth. “You’re still feverish.
Lie back down,
Santiago.
You need to take it easy.”

“
Estoy bueno.”

Santiago brought out her smile. “I might believe
better, but not good,” she said. “I’ve shared my sad little story.
 
You still need to tell me who’s after you and
why.
 
I’m cutting you a little slack
since you got hurt, but I need to know.”

He settled back into the position he’d held earlier.
“You will, Sara,” he said. “I’ll tell you as soon as we’re both in better
shape. Did you sleep last night?”

“No.” Damn, he hadn’t lost the knack for reading
her.
 

“You look tired, Sarita.”

“I am.”
 
Her
eyes ached with fatigue.

“Go to bed.
 
You’ll need your strength, too. We can’t stay here forever and I don’t
know what may happen next.”

His statement surprised her.
 
“I thought we were hiding here.”

“
Si,
for
now,” Santiago replied. “If I hadn’t been shot, we would’ve done something
else.”

Weariness settled over her, heavy as a woolen
blanket. “Why?” she asked, thick-headed. “I thought you wanted an out of the
way place to hole up for a while.”

“I did. I knew I could last a little while before I
got too weak or went into shock so much I couldn’t function.
 
And we made it here, no?”

“Well, yes but how did you manage?” She’d wondered
more than once. “You had to be in incredible pain and growing weaker with every
mile.”

He started to shrug,
then
stopped with a grimace. “I did what I had to do, that’s all. Go get some
rest.
 
You can’t take care of me if
you’re dead on your feet.”

True.
 
And he
used the single argument guaranteed to work. “I will if you’ll come back to bed,
too.”

His lips twitched into a grin. “
La muñequita,
you’ll rest better if I stay here.
 
I’m comfortable enough.”

“I need you close.” Sara might be able to shut her
eyes with Santiago at her side.
 
The
short distance between the couch and the bedroom loomed too great to bear.
 
Although she’d lived a mundane life for too
long, her sterile comfort zone had eroded when he walked into her life.
 
Their lovemaking had knocked down the walls she’d
built around her emotions, and when her bedroom window shattered from gunfire,
the old Sara emerged from the rubble.
 
This Sara lacked the fearlessness she’d once known and the
que-sera-sera
attitude.
 
She feared what would happen next, and if he
wasn’t within her touch, she’d obsess with worry.

Santiago shook his head slightly. “All right, if
that’s what it takes. It’s cooler in the bedroom anyway.”

Unable to sleep in her clothes, Sara undressed and put
on the gown she’d
brought,
a chaste cotton nighty with
cap sleeves.
 
Santiago still wore a shirt
over his boxers, nothing more.
 
He lay on
his back, his injured shoulder on the side away from her and she curled up
facing him.
 
Santiago pulled a sheet over
them both.
 
Although she hadn’t been sure
she could sleep, Sara grew drowsy and yielded to it.

She woke alone around dusk, mouth dry and head thick
with sleep cotton.
 
Sara listened and
heard nothing over the dull roar of the window air conditioner. She spoke his
name into the silence, but when he made no reply, she crawled out of bed to
find him.
 
When she didn’t see him, Sara
glanced outside and gasped.
 
The pickup
truck they’d driven here no longer remained in the yard.
 
She dashed onto the porch, barefooted, and
scanned the area, but the truck was gone.

Inner alarm bells shrilled as she wondered where
he’d gone – and why.
 
Did something spook
him? Was she in danger now? Sara’s finger caught the edge of her nightgown and
twisted the fabric, an old nervous habit.
 
When she realized she wore nothing beneath it, she scurried inside and
put on her jeans, then a blouse.
 
On her
way back to the porch for another gander, Sara saw his duffle beside the couch.
Okay so maybe he’s coming back, but where
in the hell did he go and why didn’t he tell me?

On impulse, she dropped on one knee and rooted
through his bag until she found the Glock.
 
Sara pulled it out and checked.
 
Like she figured, it was loaded.
 
If Santiago left it, he would be back.
 
She replaced the weapon and sat down, face buried in her hands.
 
About the time she thought she knew him to
the bone, he did something she failed to anticipate and seemed like a stranger.

Two options loomed.
 
She could sit and stew, maybe cry, or she could sit on the porch steps
and wait.
 
Sara considered taking his
pistol outside with her and demonstrating what a fine shot she remained, but
Santiago wouldn’t be amused.
 
He’d be
angry if she tried such a stunt.
 
She
grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down on the top step, sipping it as she
searched for words to express her outrage.
 
She wanted him to know she didn’t appreciate having her fragile emotions
twisted into a knot or being scared to find herself alone.
 
By the time she finished the brew, she’d
prepared a rant.
 
Sara planned to chew
him out, rag his ass hard, and make sure he understood he couldn’t be loving
one minute,
then
walk the next.

The sun dropped behind the trees to the south and
the shadows thickened as she waited.
 
About the time she considered revising her idea that he’d return, she
heard the truck.
 
A few moments later,
she saw the headlights as he wound down the lane and rattled it to a stop
within five feet of the porch.
 
The harsh
words Sara had prepared burned in her throat and she stood up, ready to deliver
them.

Santiago climbed out of the truck with agile grace
and faced her.
 
Then he grinned, his
full-wattage, complete smile and the radiance from it dazzled her despite her
irritation.
 
His grin erased years from
his face and trouble from his eyes.
 
It
was his old smile, a rakish, carefree expression and the prickly barrier she’d
erected around her heart collapsed.
 
The
man who walked toward her was no stranger but familiar and infinitely precious.
Santiago was oxygen for her lungs and sustenance for her soul.
 
She forgot her anger, released her fear, and
stood up with a glad cry.
 
She loved him
and he said he loved her and he was here, in one piece.

“
La muñequita,
I thought I’d be back before you woke up.”

“Where’d you go?” She kept her tone level to hide
the worry and fear and anger his absence caused.

“Recon,” he said. “I wanted to see where we
are.
 
It was late when we arrived and I
think I was probably in shock.
 
I needed
to get my head wrapped around our location in case we have to leave in a hurry.
Besides, I had to see if I could drive or not.”

She opened her mouth to say something light, almost
teasing, but she lost emotional control and wept.
 
Her eyes bubbled over with tears and a ragged
sob caught in her throat.

“
Que te pasa?”

“Everything,” she sobbed.
“Nothing.”

With sympathy, he asked, “Which is it, Sarita?”

“Both.” She pressed her face against his chest and
he held her.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said after a few
moments. “I didn’t mean to, Sara.”

On a deep level, she knew. “But you did.”

He looked deep into her eyes as if he searched her
soul,
then
nodded. “It’s all too much, too fast, isn’t
it? I show up, we traipse down Memory Lane, someone shoots out your bedroom
window, and we take off on the run. Then you have to patch me up after I get
shot and here we are, together in one hell of a mess.”

“It’s a lot,” she agreed but one word carried the
most importance – together.

“If it wasn’t necessary,
querida,
we wouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”
 
Sara took several deep breaths and stepped back. “So, I guess you were
able to drive.”

“
Si,
but
it made my shoulder hurt. I think it bled, too.”

“Let me see!”

Santiago put an arm around her. “Let’s go inside,
get something to eat, and then you can take a look.
 
It’s nothing major.”

For the first time, she noticed the light blood
stains on his shirt, more pink than red, through the layers of gauze.
 
“I’ll redress it first,
then
we’ll eat.”

“Let’s eat first – I’m hungry.”

After a basic meal of homemade quesadillas and more
beer, Sara tackled his bandages.
 
The
wound had bled but not enough to cause any concern.
 
After applying more antibiotic cream, she
replaced the bulky gauze with a pair of large adhesive bandages she’d bought at
the supermarket.
 
“It seems clean,” she
said. “I don’t think there’s any infection.
 
You don’t seem feverish, either.
 
How do you feel?”