The Seduction of Goody Two-Shoes

He felt her hand on his arm, one fierce little squeeze. “When I scream, throw your rock into the pit…”

“Gotcha. Ready when you are…”

The pursuit sounds had reached the top of the wall, and had grown stealthy…cautious…listening. Even the storm seemed to pause. And in that brief respite, Ellie yelled, “Now!” and then cut loose with a scream like a dying banshee. McCall let go with a milder bellow himself, though she hadn’t asked him to, and at the same time heaved his chunk of rock into the void. A moment later he heard two distinct splashes, one right after the other.

Shouts came from the top of the wall, changing rapidly in tone from triumph to dismay. McCall grabbed Ellie and pulled her down into the scrabble of vines and broken pillars at the base of the wall. With his arms wrapped tightly around her he crouched, holding them both as still as statues, praying with pounding heart for miracles, for invisibility, at least, while flashlight beams stabbed evilly through the rain curtains and arguments and questions in shouted Spanish flew back and forth in the darkness.

It came to him there, in those moments of utter terror and despair, that he would protect the woman in his arms, if necessary, to the death. His head felt clear and calm while he made his plan. He would make a stand here, he decided; hold them off, keep them busy while she made her escape back over the wall of the cistern. She had the receiver-she could make it to the car by herself. And most likely she could get the VW running by herself, too-he was beginning to believe there wasn’t much his crazy Cinnamon couldn’t do, if push came to shove.

Even as his heart swelled within him, though, his sense of nobility and purpose were tempered with irony. Funny, he thought, that he’d spent so many years trying to hide from his White Knight tendencies, only to finally die because of them. No regrets, though; no use trying to outrun destiny. He began to feel pumped-up and ready… charged with passion. So must Sir Galahad have felt, riding out to face the dragons.

It was about then he realized the shouts were becoming fainter and more distant.

Ellie stirred against him. He felt rather than heard her croak, “They’re going.”

“Yeah…” He felt odd, suddenly. Cold and clammy, hollow inside. His voice seemed to echo as he added, “They’ve gone to tell the general.”

“I can’t believe it.” Her voice was shaking, incredulous. “It worked. They think we jumped. I don’t believe it.”

“’Course it worked,” he mumbled. His wonderful, incredible, quick-thinking Cinnamon Girl… “C’mon, let’s get out of here…” The general might not be so easily fooled. McCall rose to his feet. And realized, to his utter horror, that he was about to pass out.

He sat down again, much more abruptly than he’d intended to.

“McCall? Are you all right? What’s wrong? McCall-” And she was touching him in the darkness, her fingers cold on his rain-wet face. Her hands slipped to his shoulders…his arms…clutched him-hard.

Pain knifed through him. Breath hissed between his teeth and nausea threatened.

“McCall! Oh God-McCall, you’re bleeding. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

“First I knew of it,” he muttered, trying very hard not to throw up while her fingers were exploring his upper arm.

She said in an appalled tone, “I think you’ve been shot.”

“Just a scratch.” He felt quite pleased with himself at that. He thought it seemed like something Clint Eastwood would have said.

“There’s an awful lot of blood for ‘just a scratch,”’ she said accusingly. He heard rustling sounds as she straightened, then nothing as she thought it over. Then she bent down close to him again and shouted, as if he’d suddenly gone hard-of-hearing, “Are you okay? Can you make it to the jungle?”

“I’m fine,” he barked back at her, and was gratified to discover that it was more or less true. At least the nausea had passed, along with most of the dizziness, now that his heart rate was returning to normal. Suck it up, McCall. If you don’t make it, neither will she. There’s not a chance in hell she’ll leave you here…

He stood up again, more carefully this time, and announced that he was ready to get the hell outa there. It was pretty much the last thing he remembered with any degree of clarity about that night.

By her watch, it took less time than Ellie had expected to find the car; the smugglers’ path through the jungle apparently hadn’t followed a straight line. But just as on that blindfolded trek, the walk out seemed much farther and longer than it really was. Mostly because she was just so worried about McCall. He was hurt-she had no idea how badly. He’d lost blood-she had no way of knowing how much. Oh God, she thought, what if he’s bleeding to death, right now? She didn’t know what she’d do if he collapsed on her-he was too big to carry, and there was just no way in the world she was going to leave him. Not now. Not after…after what? The way he’d saved her life? That didn’t seem all that big a deal right now.

So…what? After she’d gone and fallen in love with him?

Okay, that was a very big deal. And the biggest of a whole series of shocks and confusing turnabouts that had left her reeling and not really sure about anything at the moment.

“I’m fine. Quit fussing over me,” he growled at her, the fourth or fifth time she asked him how he was feeling, sounding reassuringly like his old cranky McCall self. “You make it awful damn hard for a man to be manly and intrepid.”

“You don’t have to be, for me,” Ellie said, amused and tender.

“I do for me,” he snapped back at her, now sounding more than anything like a grumpy child. “I do still have some ego, you know.”

Ellie was thankful for the darkness that hid her smile.

It was only a few moments later, when the electronic signal in her ear was approaching pain level, that she felt him grab her arm as he said in a hoarse whisper, “There-I think I see it. I can see the car.”

She halted, trying to see through the impenetreble sheets of rain. “Where? I can’t see a thing.”

“There-wait. Okay…now, see it?” As if on his command the curtain lifted for just an instant, and there it was… the Beetle’s pale, rounded shape, like some great animal, huddled and miserable in the deluge.

“What about a guard? Can you see anyone?”

“Don’t think so,” McCall muttered. “Looks deserted to me.”

“This thing is going bananas,” Ellie said, listening to the pings in her ear. “My bag should be right around here somewhere, but I can’t…find it. If I just had a flashlight-there’s one in the bag, but-”

“I’ve got one in my toolbox. Wait…right here.” And before she could stop him, he was gone.

It seemed an eternity, waiting isolated and lonely in the darkness and rain, before she saw the slashes of silvery shimmer…the gleam of light on wet metal. And another lifetime before he was back beside her. And it took all her willpower not to hurl herself upon him, trembling and sobbing with relief and gladness. Where was her strength and common sense now?

“No guards,” he panted, his face ghoulish in the flashlight’s shadow. “And only one tire gone, far as I could tell.”

Her teeth were chattering; she clenched them together and asked, “The engine?”

She could see the shine of his teeth when he smiled. “Blew the air filter to kingdom come. Told you those Beetles are hard to kill. She might run a little hot, but she’ll run.”

“What about the tire? Have you got a spare? I can change it if-”

“Never mind the damn tire. She’ll run on the rim if she has to-no need to worry about speed in this mess. We can change it later. Right now let’s find that bag of yours and get the hell out of here.”

Between the flashlight and the pings, that didn’t take long. And miracle of miracles, though sodden and limp on the outside, thanks to its plastic liner, the bag and its contents seemed more or less intact. Ellie gathered it up and held it clutched against her chest as they ran for the car, hands clasped and laughing giddily, like lovers caught out in a summer shower.

“Man, I never thought this little car could look so good,” McCall said, shaking water from his hair as he squeezed himself behind the wheel and slammed the door after him. With the storm suddenly shut outside like an unwelcome stranger, the inside of the car seemed unbelievably still and warm and safe.

“Sorry I insulted her.” Laughing and breathless, Ellie patted the dash-then remembered. Holding her breath, she felt underneath…

“Is it-?”

“Yes-it’s here.” Oh, so carefully, she pulled the gun from its hiding place-her nice little nine-millimeter double-