“Ah, but I intend to change that.” He moved toward her, eyes gleaming in the light of lamps and the fire. “When I first saw you, dancing there in Ojinaga, I decided I must have you. You have the soul of a courtesan, the fire of a Spanish gypsy. And I,” he said softly, “make it a point to get what I want.”
Coldly, she said, “You are too insolent! It is time for you to leave, before I summon Artur to evict you.”
“That old man?” He laughed contemptuously. “He could not throw out bathwater, señora, and you know it. No, I will stay as long as I like, long enough to convince you that you need my favor to find your husband.”
“And I presume that your favor comes with a price.”
“Ah, you are very clever. Yes, all things worth having come with a price. It is up to you to decide what is worth more to you—your pride or your husband.”
Bitterly, Ginny thought that it always came down to this, and always she was presented with intolerable choices.
“I refuse to bargain with you, General Luna,” she said icily. “A man who would make such a bargain would not keep it. I have had experience with men like you before. I will not sell myself.”
“Not even for your husband?”
“Steve would not wish to be free at such a price.”
“A pity.” Luna reached out to touch her cheek, smiling when she stepped back to avoid his caress. “I would have kept my bargain. But your refusal does not lessen my desire for you. It would have been better if you came willingly to me.”
“That will never happen, General.”
“Ah, do not be so certain, Señora Alvarado. One never knows what may happen in a moment of passion.”
“I seriously doubt you have ever known real passion. You seem more the type to demand it, when it is meant to be freely given. But perhaps no woman has ever felt it for you without it being demanded, so you would not know that.”
A hot light sprang into his eyes, a glitter that made her take a step back. A muscle twitched in his cheek as he stared at her. “It is true that few women have felt the kind of passion that I require, but you are a woman who is accustomed to passion. You were born for it. You will not disappoint me.”
To Ginny, it sounded like a threat.
26
Steve Morgan had lost track of time. Endless days and nights were separated only by routine. In the deep recesses of the mine, he survived by sheer will alone.
The sting of the whips came less frequently now, though often enough. Food was scarce, just enough to keep grown men alive and able to work. His belly growled constantly. Was anyone searching for him yet? They would eventually realize that he had disappeared involuntarily. By now Paco would have managed to find out what had happened to him. He and Bishop would probably be forming a strategy plan.
But Ginny could very well be angry, thinking that he’d left her again, as he had so many times before.
Christ, it’s no more than I deserve if she does….
Regret dogged him, an unfamiliar emotion. He tried not to think, not of Ginny, or escape, but only of survival. And when it was at its worst, he again used the method Gopal had taught him so long ago, and focused on pleasant memories.
It was liberating, the illusion of being free, in a sun-dappled forest, or by a clear, running stream with the sharp sweet scent of pine in the air….
Reality came with a murky blackness broken by the fitful yellow glow of lanterns or the sputtering flame of creosote torches that served to illuminate silhouetted figures of straining men heaving pickaxes, bodies saturated with sweat, mouths open holes gasping for air. The air reeked with despair. The whips of the guards were a constant hissing pop, curling around backs, bellies and thighs. If a man failed to cry out under the lash, it was applied until he did.
Days dragged into nights, an endless monotony, until he lost track of time, until he dared not think of anything other than the mechanical response of his body. But like a small, niggling worm, at the back of his mind was the reminder that he would not have to endure this long, that soon it would be over.
And then I will kill the man who put me here….
That memory was still vague, a tall, dark shadow half-hidden in a corner who Steve somehow knew was behind it all. An air of smug confidence had emanated from the man, catching his attention just before lights exploded behind his eyes and everything was plunged into darkness.
When he had awakened to the familiar nightmare of hell, he had known who was responsible for putting him there. In the days—weeks—that followed, the certainty grew.
I am here for a definite reason, and it has to do with the man in the cantina.
“You! Gringo!” The guard’s shout was accompanied by the stinging lash of his whip. Steve straightened, careful not to move too fast or the whip would only bite more deeply. “Gringo pig. Lucky for you that more men are needed outside, or you may soon begin to look like these others here, eh? Move faster!”
A flurry of activity was the only warning he had before he was taken, along with Juan, to the mouth of the mine. He winced against the sharp stab of light into eyes far too accustomed to the turbid shadows.
The guards were impatient, brutal, freely applying
