Thunder in the Night (Crimson Romance) (18 page)

Morning sun beamed onto the placid water alongside the cabana’s little front porch. I should have been scurrying around, tossing things into my luggage, checking for my ticket home, corralling all the souvenirs I’d picked up over the past week.

Instead, I sat with my feet up on the railing, contemplating this day, this week, this assignment, and all it had meant — so far.

In an hour, we’d leave this place and travel to an animal sanctuary for a tour of the facilities. Then, it was off to the airport.

And tonight I’d be home — eating in my own kitchen, sleeping in my own bed. Probably alone.

I frowned. Certainly these next few days would tell me whether there was anything to this thing I was developing with Mart. If I was just his girl for this trek, I’d know it when he didn’t call, or return my calls.

This morning, when he’d left me only minutes earlier, my body still felt the touch of his hands and his lips, making it difficult to imagine our affair as a fleeting one.

With a sigh, I dropped my bare feet onto the smooth wooden decking. I could sit here all day and never be able to predict my own future. Or Mart’s. Best to just let it all play out.

“Loosen up on the reins,” my father used to say whenever I’d felt anxious or nervous. “Ally, honey, take a deep breath.”

In honor of Dad, I straightened up. Then, I took that deep breath, pulling my hands to my chest in prayer. Raising my arms overhead, palms together, I swept them back to where they had begun.

There, that felt better.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said aloud, smiling, and turned to head inside. It was time to pick up the pace.

• • •

“Most of the animals here are rescues. Orphaned by poachers, held as exotic pets until they grew too big, displaced by mankind,” Mart told us as we clustered around him at the entrance to one of the area’s animal sanctuaries.

Clark, I noticed, paid little attention to his subordinate, standing off to one side and behind us, fiddling with his cell phone.

It seemed a shame we’d kept the sanctuary for last because our group seemed weary this morning, as if a part of all our minds was already back in the States, contemplating backlogs at work and in the laundry room.

That all changed, though, as we meandered the paths, at last able to see some of the native animals we’d not spotted on our travels. A jaguar slept nearly out of sight in one spot, while a wild pig, called a peccary, grazed calmly in another area. We watched for kinkajous and tree otters, which were called tayras, according to a sign posted nearby. Another creature, called an agouti, looked like a big rat with no tail.

“Three blind mice, three blind mice,” Dan sang the childhood rhyme. When I looked puzzled, he said, “You know, cut off your tail with a carving knife?”

“Oh, yeah.” I gave a shudder and hurried along on the chipped-wood path to keep up with the rest of the group.

“Can you see the contrast?” Mart asked as we stood watching a tapir with only a thin wire fence between us. “Here, we walk through their world, as unobtrusively as possible. Rather than,” he broke off, not needing to go on.

“Well, why don’t you try something like this in Rochester?” Elaine asked in genuine innocence.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed. “Kids would love it, I’ll bet. Big draw for the place.”

If Mart could have crowed with pleasure, he would have.

Mart’s boss, meanwhile, remained silent, just nodding his head when Dan looked at him. It was an unconvincing nod, anyone could see.

Continuing our tour, we circled round. I took more pictures for the blog, posing my fellow trekkers in groups, waving them to stand closer and not in a shadow.

“You remind me of my mom,” Patty called out from her spot sandwiched between her friends. “Always the photographer, ordering everyone around.”

“Yeah, my mom, too,” Kiran agreed. “That way she managed to stay out of every shot!”

“I’m not staying out!” I said, clicking off a few more pictures. Handing the camera to Patty, I took her place at the center of the group and smiled when she said, “Cheese!”

“There’s a keeper!” Patty said. “Want me to get one of you and Mart?” she asked.

I blinked, looking to him and realizing we didn’t have any pictures of just the two of us.

“That’d be great,” he said, stepping up and putting his arm around my suntanned shoulders. His fingers gave a squeeze and I relaxed against him. Slipping my arm around his waist, I put my finger through his belt loop.

“Smile!” Patty ordered, smiling herself. Then, “Got it!” She checked the screen on the back of the camera. “Aw! It’s really nice!”

When she handed it to me, I looked, wanting it to be a good picture. One I could keep always, no matter what.

And there we were, hips together, bodies casually touching, our smiles full and real. If you saw the photo and didn’t know, would you? I wondered. Did we look as if we’d spent the night just so — hips together, bodies touching?

“You make a cute couple,” Faith said. “At least one of us landed a guy on this trip.”

Recalling their lamentation about male to female ratio, I had to laugh. “I suppose your next trip will be back to the beach,” I said.

Kiran shrugged. “But it’s been really amazing here. That last resort had some guys. Maybe next time we can aim for that. Some education and some opposite sex.”

“Now there’s a goal!” Patty said.

I chuckled as I turned away from the group, my eyes searching out not Clark or Mart, but the restrooms. They weren’t far off and I scurried on over, not wanting to miss any of the tour, since the gift shop was next.

I’d just emerged from the facilities and was advancing on the gift shop when I noticed my shoelace undone. Squatting down near the wall of the building, I dealt with it quickly, making it a double knot for good measure. I was still crouched there when I heard voices from just around the corner.

Funny thing, I overhear people talking all the time, but I can really tell when a conversation isn’t meant for any other ears. This was one of those.

“For you.” The voice was warm and masculine.

“Oh!” A female, surprised. “But you shouldn’t — ”

“No, honestly, it’s okay. Open it.”

That was the professor talking! But, to whom?

There came the sound of gift opening — no wrapping paper torn, but a box lid lifted, a rustle of tissue. Then —

“Oh! It’s lovely! Thank you!” A kiss, light and quick. “Put it on for me.”

Silence. Another kiss. A murmur of contentment.

“Thank you so much, darling. I’ll think of you every time I wear it.”

“And I hope plenty of other times, as well.” A chuckle.

“Of course! Of course!” Emphatic, then, a sigh. “If only — ”

“Ssh. Don’t start. Let’s just take what we can. This moment.”

Another kiss.

My toes were getting cramped, but I didn’t dare move. The last thing I wanted was for them to realize someone else had heard them, because I’d recognized the woman’s voice now.

It was Sylvia Webster.

Stunned by this interesting turn of events, I totally didn’t notice anyone coming up behind me.

“Hey!” Jen greeted me, managing to put a question into the word. “What are you doing?”

I stood up, squeezing my toes inside my shoes to get the blood flowing again. “Tying a shoelace,” I said.

“Oh. You just looked funny down there,” she went on, in a voice that would certainly carry around the corner.

“Just tying a shoelace,” I repeated in a sing-song voice. Nothing to see here, people. Move along. “Have you been in the shop yet?” I asked to distract her, but she only frowned.

Pointing, she said, “I’m heading there now. Like you.” She made a face as if wondering if the heat had gotten to me.

“Oh, great! Let’s go!” I took a few quick steps in that direction, certain she’d follow.

And she did. We’d taken about three steps when we encountered Sylvia and the professor, now standing about six feet apart and looking self-consciously nonchalant.

“Hey!” Jen greeted them casually with a lifted hand and kept walking.

I lifted a hand, too, and moved my lips into a smile, but I could tell from the look on Sylvia’s face that she knew I had heard the lovers’ remarks.

“Can you fit another souvenir in your luggage?” I asked Jen and her answer segued us neatly into the store and away from Sylvia and the man she loved.

But dodging the zoo director’s wife was not as easy as all that, which didn’t surprised me.

I hadn’t stayed long in the shop, just taking time to pick up a few postcards and then stuff all my remaining quetzales into the donations jar on the counter.

Emerging into the sunlight, I blinked and pondered the way back to the entrance. Sylvia came at me from a big tree she must have been hiding behind, approaching at a good clip.

She grabbed my arm hard, her long fingernails making quite an impression, and when she pulled me in the direction of the shadowy corner where I’d tied my shoes, I brooked no argument.

“Geez, Sylvia, lighten up,” I whined, rubbing my arm when she let go. “What’s wrong?” As if I didn’t know.

“Don’t give me that!” she said. Her eyes flashed with something that wasn’t anger, exactly, or fear.

“Look — ” I began, but she shook her head.

“No, you look. I know you were snooping before. Eavesdropping like a common gossip. And I know you heard.”

She was taking quite a risk here. Maybe I hadn’t heard. Maybe her guilty conscience was making her say too much. I remained silent.

“So I am going to politely ask you to forget it. Wipe it from your memory and hold your tongue.”

There was nothing polite in her request and her own tongue was barbed with a poisonous accent.

“Who do you think I’m going to tell?” I asked. “Your husband? Mart?”

I shook my head. There was no way I’d take on Clark in a domestic dispute and Mart might be curious for about ten seconds and then not care. Besides, I was not a common gossip.

“Sylvia, don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” I drew an X over my heart. “Honestly. But why you’d bring your lover on the same vacation as your husband, I can’t understand.” Really, it defied logic.

“He wasn’t supposed to be here!” Sylvia hissed at me, the irritation in her voice clearly directed at Clark. “He just came along at the last minute. If only Mart had been leading the group, it would have been easy. He’s so lost in his own wild world of animals he never pays attention to anyone else.” She broke off and her eyes swept quickly over me from head to toe. “Until now,” she added and I felt disproportionately pleased.

“Maybe Clark suspects,” I suggested, but she laughed.

“And maybe I’ll flap my arms and fly to the moon,” she said.

Which made me wonder why Clark had made the sudden decision to come along on the trek to Belize. To find Tommy Mendoza’s killer? To keep an eye on Mart and throw a spanner into Mart’s sanctuary plans? Or to keep an eye on his wife, who was having an affair with a man who was not exactly what he claimed?

“Just keep your mouth shut about … .” Sylvia said, trailing off to wave her hands in the direction of the spot she and the professor had occupied earlier. “Give me your word.”

My word. That was easy enough. Honest enough.

I made an X again and said quite solemnly, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The hubbub at the airport swirled all around me as I stood at the airport ticket counter. I was ending my trip as I’d begun it, waiting in line.

Our little group was scattered around the open area of the lobby, holding packages, sitting on luggage, exchanging addresses.

Holding my boarding pass, I moved away from the counter, my eyes scanning the room for Mart. When I finally spotted him, my breath caught in my throat and my chest tightened.

Off in a far corner near the entrance, Mart was deep in conversation with the hotel singer, Ishani. She was standing too close to him, looking marvelous in denim shorts of an indecent length and a layered tank top which highlighted her tanned and toned arms.

My hands started to tremble as I watched them and I cursed my own weakness. Still, nothing short of an earthquake would have made me look away. Ishani was talking, urgently, intently, leaning toward him and gesturing with her hands. Mart was wearing his solemn look, listening and nodding, asking questions then nodding again.

At one point, he glanced over at the big clock on the wall then put a hand on her arm, interrupting the flow of her words. It was her turn to nod, that long veil of hair moving like a silk curtain in a summer breeze.

She reached up to place her hand against his chest. The kiss she placed on his cheek was chaste and brief; but a kiss, nonetheless. The hug they exchanged lasted longer.

I blinked, feeling stunned, and pivoted. The ladies’ room was located nearby and I hurried to it, needing a few minutes alone to get my bearings.

Leaning against the sink looking at my pale reflection, I chided myself for overreacting. Mart wasn’t mine. Really, we barely knew each other. Sure, we’d shared some good times this past week, and weathered a few bad ones, as well. And yes, I had thought something had begun between us. But I must have been wrong. I gave a little laugh. Must have. When I sighed, it came out as a quiver, ragged at the end.

“Oh, snap out of it!” I chided that woman in the mirror. Then I splashed cold water against my eyes and fished in my bag for some lipstick. After brushing my hair a few swift, almost painful, strokes, I felt better. Squaring my shoulders, I pressed my lips together, blotting the lipstick. I wouldn’t forget what I had seen — couldn’t if I tried — but it was time to pull myself together and rejoin the group or I’d miss the plane. I laughed at that image. Ishani and I standing on the runway, waving our hankies at the disappearing plane. The instant of comic relief helped and I walked outside smiling.

“There you are!” Mart exclaimed, coming toward me looking casual and happy. I resisted the sudden and very infantile urge to kick him on his exposed shins and instead echoed his phrase.

“Here I am! Were you looking for me?”

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you.” His head turned, eyes darting rapidly in both directions, looking for — who? “But it’s too late now.”