The Sooner the Better
Page 25

“While I was in town, I picked up a few clothes for you. I made sure they’re yellow.”
“Thank you.”
“Lorraine?”
Her voice must have betrayed her. “I thought you loved Marcie.” The words were as sarcastic and belittling as she could make them.
He didn’t answer for a moment. Long enough for Lorraine to regret her outburst.
“When did I say anything about Marcie?” The question was soft, close to her ear. He stood directly behind her and she squeezed her eyes shut to keep from turning into his arms.
“You thought I was her during the fever.” She’d never asked him about Marcie. Nor had he asked her about Gary after that one night. Whoever Marcie was, Lorraine knew she’d been special.
“Did I mention anyone else?”
“No,” she answered coldly.
“Catherina’s…an old lover.”
“So I gathered.” She reached for the bundle of clothes and hugged it against her stomach.
“Lorraine, it’s not the way it seems.”
“You don’t need to explain anything to me. Your love life is none of my business.”
“You’re right, I don’t and it’s not—but I want to tell you. I loved Marcie, really loved her, but she married someone else. I came down to Mexico to forget. Not long afterward, I met Catherina.”
Lorraine felt like covering her ears. She didn’t want to hear about his past lovers, not when she loved him.
“It was a fling…stupid, really. By mutual agreement we parted two weeks later.” His tone was matter-of-fact, dispassionate.
“It’s none of my concern. I’m sorry… I should never have said anything.” Averting her eyes, she concentrated on unfolding the clothes and found she was pleased with his choices. He’d bought her a bright yellow peasant blouse with a scooped neckline and a matching yellow and turquoise skirt.
“I thought you might be more comfortable meeting Catherina in a dress.”
“Thank you,” she said again. He’d even remembered shoes, a pair of rope and canvas espadrilles.
“I talked to your father, too.”
“Good idea,” she said, thankful he hadn’t expected her to speak to Thomas.
It was ending; she could feel it already. In a couple of days she’d be on her way back to Louisville. Soon their time together would be little more than a memory to Jack. This was all happening too fast.
“My name will be cleared?”
“Yes. Apparently when the first half of the Kukulcan Star was found and returned, they recognized that it was unlikely you’d been involved, considering when—and how—it was heisted. Applebee used you. And seeing that you now have the second half and you’re surrendering it to the authorities, all is forgiven.”
Once again she reminded herself that she had reason to be grateful this whole experience was coming to an end.
“There’s more,” Jack said. “If we hadn’t been drifting at sea all this time we would’ve heard the news.”
“What news?”
“Apparently the Kukulcan Star was discovered at an archaeological site. One of the Mayan temples near Mérida. The archaeologist who found it was murdered before he could hand it over to the Department of Antiquities.”
“When did this happen?”
“A few days before you got to Mexico. And the museum theft occurred the night before. A guard was critically injured in that robbery. But they didn’t find the archaeologist’s body until last week.”
“You don’t need to tell me who the suspect is,” Lorraine murmured. She already knew the police were interested in Jason. And he’d told her himself that he’d been on a recent dig. He’d told her some complicated lie, too, about rescuing another worker to explain his injured hand. Another lie she’d been naive enough to believe… He’d managed to obtain both halves of the Kukulcan Star—and then he’d passed them off to her.
“What about Jason?” she asked. “Where do you think he is?”
“With half of Mexico on his tail, my guess is he’s long gone.”
Long gone, Lorraine mused. Like she would be herself. “By this time tomorrow I’ll be free to return to the United States.”
“So it seems.”
Jack went quiet, as if he, too, had suddenly realized the implications of all that was about to take place.
“Within a month you’ll have trouble remembering my name,” she said, attempting a joke. One that fell decidedly flat. She turned her back to him and busied herself pouring coffee.
“I’ll remember.” All at once he was behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll remember every single moment.”
“Sure you will.” She tried to sound light, funny, but her words were more like a whimper.
He increased the pressure on her shoulders. “I won’t forget. I swear it.” His voice was husky with emotion.
Lorraine closed her eyes and leaned back against his chest. “I…I’m not going to forget, either.”
“Promise me,” he demanded.
“I promise.”
They stood together like that for a long time. Minutes? She wasn’t sure. Long enough, in any event, to feel his love, its certainty, and yearn to share hers.
Lorraine didn’t dare speak. She knew the instant she opened her mouth she’d reveal the truth. But she couldn’t do that yet, couldn’t tell him. Later it would all come out. Later she’d explain everything. But not now. Not when so many situations were still unresolved. Gary, her father, her problems with the Mexican police…. She needed a clear head. Distance. Time. She had to be very certain before she gave this man her heart. Because when she did, it would be forever.
Frustration was making him crazy. Jason sat in the corner of a dimly lit cantina in Campeche and nursed a glass of whiskey. He’d followed every lead, tracked down every rumor about a blonde American woman traveling with Jack Keller, and each time he’d run into a dead end.
None of his bribes had paid off, either. He’d put the word out on the street, notified every contact and offered a large reward. Nothing. It really was as if they’d disappeared off the face of the earth.
His only hope was that she hadn’t found the artifact, and that if she had, she’d been smart enough not to hand it over to the Mexican government. His jaw tensed as he thought of the Star being out of his reach again.
Once he retrieved the half in Lorraine Dancy’s possession, he’d have to make another attempt to steal the original piece from the museum. They’d no doubt increased security, making his task that much harder. He would triumph, though; that was fated. Meant to be. When he got both pieces back, he’d read the Star for the first time. No one else. Him. His entire life had been building up to this moment. When he’d learned the god’s secrets, he’d declare himself Kukulcan III. The living promise fulfilled at the beginning of a new millennium.
Under his leadership, the Maya would recover their former glory, and pilgrims from around the world would flock to his temples once again. Excitement blasted through him at the thought. Oh, yes, it was going to happen! He was so close….
Music swirled around him, and a couple of whores eyed his table, encouraging an invitation. In other circumstances, Jason would have been interested. But not now.
“Señor?” A buxom woman strolled toward him. Jason had noticed her earlier. She placed her hands on the edge of his table and leaned forward, giving him a glimpse of her wares.
“I’m not looking for company,” he said.
“I’m not offering.”
Jason glanced up from his drink. “Then what do you want?”
“I’ve heard that you’re trying to find an American woman traveling by boat. She’s with a man by the name of Jack Keller.”
She had his full attention now. “I’m listening.”
“A…friend of mine had a run-in with them recently.”
Well, well. This could be promising. “How recently?” he asked without emotion. Enthusiasm would cost him more than he was willing to pay a whore.
“Ask him yourself,” she suggested, nodding toward the bar.
A lone man sat at the end, his arm in a sling. He was big compared to the other men around him. Ugly and mean-looking, to boot. In the States Jason would have taken him for a biker. Certainly he was the kind of man you crossed the street to avoid.
Jason peeled off a few pesos and stuffed them inside the woman’s blouse. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“You can thank me again later if you like.” She arched her brows, letting him know what she meant.
“Sounds good, sweetheart,” Jason lied. There were younger, better-looking hookers around. He might even see if he could find himself a blonde. He’d been attracted to Lorraine Dancy; it was a shame things didn’t work out between them.
Whiskey bottle in hand, Jason walked over to the bar and claimed the empty stool next to the man with the sling. Tattoos covered his naked arms.
“I understand you ran across a couple of friends of mine,” Jason said in a conversational tone.
“Friends?”
“Let’s just say I’m looking for them.”
“So am I,” the other man said. “Pray you locate your friends first, señor, because they’ll both be dead if I find them before you.”
“Really?” Jason murmured. “Any particular reason?”
“Plenty of reasons.” He slammed the bottle down on the bar.
“Carlos.” The older whore strolled to his side and slipped an arm around his waist. “You promised not to cause problems.”
He glared at her, then laughed.
“The American woman shot him,” she told Jason.
“The woman will die for it,” Carlos snarled.
Lorraine Dancy had more guts than Jason had credited her with. He refilled Carlos’s glass from his own bottle. “I don’t have any fondness for the bitch myself.”
Carlos studied him carefully, his look an open challenge. “And Keller?”
Jason shrugged. “He’s disposable, too. Perhaps we could help each other, after all.”
Carlos raised his glass in a silent toast. “Perhaps we can.”
Dr. Catherina Efrain was a flawless beauty, perhaps thirty years of age. The much older Director of Antiquities, Dr. Marcos Molino, had joined her. Lorraine sat in the large government office in Mexico City with Jack beside her and tried not to stare at the other woman with her classic features and elegantly styled hair. Tried to push away all thoughts of Jack and this lovely Mexican woman.
“When I received Jack’s phone call yesterday afternoon, I immediately talked the matter over with Dr. Molino and arranged for your flight to Mexico City,” Catherina was saying. “Our government is very pleased and excited that you have given us this artifact.”
“I’m grateful for your help.” Lorraine noted that Dr. Molino was content to let Catherina do most of the talking. His English wasn’t particularly good, while hers was nearly perfect.