| Title: A Love to Die For Author: Peggy Chapter 2 The first thing Antonio did when they got to the car was to check out the glove box. He found her vehicle registration that showed him her real name really was Jaime Strand. At least she hadn't lied about that part. Her address was listed as Boise, Idaho, a neighboring state. How could Carlos possibly be connected with her that far West? He was sure that was the only reason Carlos hadn't found them yet. He wouldn't have expected him to give up his work in the city for the desolation of Montana. Being a writer the computer enabled him to do his work via the Internet. He still had his income, more so, in fact, because he was able to fulfill the responsibilities of his job and freelance at the same time. At least he could work as long as they had electricity and an active phone line. There wasn't anything else of interest in the glove box, so he moved to the truck. He began to move her bags in the back, unzipping the luggage and looking through the contents. "What are you doing, Antonio?" Juan exclaimed. "You shouldn't be going through her things like that." "What if she's a spy for Carlos? Did you think about that?" Juan shook his head, disbelievingly. "She couldn't be!" Just then Antonio pulled out a black case. "Couldn't she?" The key was in the lock and he quickly opened the case. Inside was a pair of handguns. A license for them was tucked into the top of the box and the name on the license was Jaime Strand. "I still don't believe it, there must be a reason she has guns, why don't you ask her?" Juan stammered. "And tip her off that we know? We have to be very careful what we say and do around her until we know for sure that she doesn't know who we are. It could be a coincidence that she ended up wrecked on our property, but if she's a plant, we are in grave danger. Just in case, I think we'd better find her ammunition and hide it." Shaking his head in disbelief, Juan nevertheless helped Antonio search for the ammunition and placed it under the seat of their truck. They put the rest of her things back the way they had found them, hooked a tow bar to the front of the car and pulled the car back to the house. As soon as they arrived, Jaime came down the steps, got into the trunk, got out her overnight bag that had her cosmetics in it, and some clean clothes. Antonio watched, as she pulled her purse from under the seat where she had left it. He cursed under his breath for not looking there and his eyes followed her as she went back into the house. Following her in, he picked up the phone to see if it was working. He wanted to get repairs arranged for as soon as possible and get her on her way. He raised his eyes to the ceiling in thankfulness as the call went through, but the repairman said it would be two days before he could get a man out to assess the damage. Oh, great! he thought as he thanked him and hung up the phone. Two more days to get through thinking the worst. He was sitting at the dining room table, deep in thought, as she once more came from the bathroom. She had cleaned up, put on some makeup, though she didn't need very much, and piled her mass of curls on top of her head in a clip. She was wearing a very form-fitting coral knit top with a round neck that came just above the top of her firm breasts. Leaving her midriff bare, it ended about two inches above the equally form fitting new blue jeans. She had sandals on her feet, exposing her coral-painted toenails. Her outfit was modest enough, but so sexy that he felt his torture beginning again. As she walked past him, he caught the scent of her perfume. He could swear it was Diavolo per Donna, from Spain. Damn! Double damn! He wasn't used to female company and his body was betraying him. He wanted to get up and leave, but he would give himself away if he stood up now. She walked over to the table and sat down across from him. "Did you talk to a repairman?" Thankful for something to say, he told her what the repairman had told him. He couldn't completely disguise his disappointment at the delay. She picked up on it right away, "I'm very sorry to put you out like this. I wish I could do something to hurry it up. By the way, do you know anyone in this area who drives a red pickup truck? I intend to press charges." She placed both elbows on the table and rested her chin on her clasped hands, causing her neckline to bow out slightly, giving him an unexpected view of the soft mounds of her breasts. Another drift of perfume crossed the table and wafted beneath his nose. He closed his eyes and drew in a slow breath before he answered, "No, I can't think of anyone who drives a red pickup. Did you get a license number?" He asked without looking at her again. "No, I'm afraid I had too much on my mind just trying to control the car. There are red paint smears on my back bumper though." That's curious. Most women wouldn't have noticed that. "Do you mind if I make some phone calls? I'll pay you for the charges, " She asked. "Of course, feel free." "Thank you!" She waited until she could be alone, and he didn't fail to notice the fact. The first call she placed was to the police department in the closest town. She told them what had happened and gave them a description of the truck. She asked them to check for paint smears from her blue sedan on the front bumper. A truck matching the description had been spotted in town. They made note of it because it had New Orleans license plates on it. They would check the front bumper and call her back with the license number. "Please be prepared to detain him, I will press charges." Half an hour later, the phone rang. The men were outside so she answered it. It was the police. They had discovered blue paint smears on the front bumper but the man had come out, gotten into the truck and driven off very fast, nearly running down an officer as he did so. They had given chase, but he gave them the slip. They gave her the license plate number and told her they had an APB out for him, but that's all they could do for now. "Thank you, please keep me informed." As soon as she hung up the phone, she placed another call. This one was to inquire about the license number on the truck. It was registered to a Carlos Montero of New Orleans. The name meant nothing to her. Antonio came into the room as she hung up the phone. He looked at her curiously, but said nothing. "I called the police in the closest town," She said, feeling a need to explain. She filled him in on the details as she knew them, then she got up and went out to get something from her car. Antonio went to the phone, hit *69 to find out the last number that had been called. Quickly dialing the number, he waited for someone to answer. He almost fell over when the answer came. "This is the Federal Bureau of Investigation, how can I direct your call?" He quickly hung up the phone. Why is she calling the FBI? Has Carlos told them some story to get them tracking me down? Just how does she fit into the picture? When she came in, she was carrying the black gun case under her arm. He pretended not to notice as she slid the case under the edge of the sofa, out of sight. He was awfully glad he had hidden her ammunition, but did she have more that he missed? He would have to stay very close to her until he could figure out what was going on. He planned on sticking to her like stink on a skunk. After dinner he invited her to go for a walk. She accepted, wondering why he was suddenly being pleasant again. At first they walked to the back of the house and up the trail to the timberline. The air smelled freshly washed from the rain. The evening was cool and the air was damp so she wore a dark blue jacket to match her jeans. Antonio was relieved that she was covered up a bit more. He had been hard pressed to keep his eyes off of her all afternoon. It would be difficult to stay close to her and fight his traitorous male body while he watched to see what she was up to. He didn't say anything as they walked. It gave her a chance to admire him secretly. He was wearing black jeans and boots. A black shirt topped the outfit with the top buttons open, revealing the magnificent chest she had admired while he was asleep. Jaime started feeling a little uncomfortable about his silence. She commented on everything she saw, trying to start a conversation, but she barely got the merest nod in response. Squirrels were scurrying here and there to finish up their last errands before the sun went down. "Where are you from?" he asked so suddenly she almost jumped. "Boise, Idaho, for now, but I may have to relocate." At least she told the truth about that, and he answered, "Why?" "I'm starting a new job the first of next month. I have to find out where most of my assignments will take me. It might be difficult to stay in one place." "That doesn't sound like a very pleasant job, moving around so much. Don't you want to have a family?" "Eventually, yes, but I've worked very hard to get this job, and it's taken a long time." They were still about thirty yards from the timberline when they came to a large puddle in the middle of the trail. He hopped across it easily with his long legs, but she hesitated, not wanting to land in the middle. "Come on, I'll help you," He said, reaching his hand back to take hold of hers. She stepped back as far as she could reach still holding onto his hand, then jumped as hard as she could while he pulled her by the hand. Between the two of them, the effort was a bit much for the distance and she slammed into his body rather hard. She would have tumbled backwards into the puddle if he hadn't grabbed her to him. She found herself wrapped in two strong arms, her breasts pressed against his rock-hard chest, and his wary eyes were looking into hers. It seemed as if time stopped as his face moved closer, and closer. A low groan escaped him as his lips came down on hers. They were soft at first, but quickly became possessive and demanding as long denied passions took over. She was as lost as he was. Her hands were on his chest, where they had longed to be, and she didn't stop their wandering. Her fingertips felt his heartbeat pounding, as the roaring in her ears drowned out all other sounds. His tongue touched her lips, asking for entry, and there was no way she could deny him. The kiss deepened and he moaned, "Ohhh, Dios mio!" A sudden sound pulled them back from their passion-clouded world, as a bullet whistled past them, barely missing Antonio. "El Cabrone, you can't stay away from the ladies, can you?" Someone yelled from a hidden position in the trees. Antonio immediately pulled her off the trail and down with him behind a large rock, then faced toward where the voice was coming from. "Damn!! It's Carlos!" "Carlos? Carlos Montero?" Jaime exclaimed, "I thought you didn't know him." "I didn't say I didn't know him. How do you know him? Are you working for him?" "Why would I be working for him? He's the one who ran me off of the road." From his puzzled expression, she knew he didn't understand. "The red pickup truck, remember? The police told me it was registered to a Carlos Montera from New Orleans." "Why didn't you tell me?" "I didn't know you knew him, he's from New Orleans." "No, he's not from New Orleans. He's from my homeland, in Spain. He has been trying to kill me." "I don't understand, why does he want to kill you?" "There isn't time to explain now, but I thought you were in on it somehow." There was no time to reply as another bullet pounded into the rock in front of them. Antonio shoved her head down as the bullet ricocheted off with a shrill whine. A vague scent of gunpowder drifted to them on the breeze. "My sister died having your baby, cabrone, and you will die, too, you and your puta!" "Having your baby!?" Jaime looked shocked. "It isn't true! What kind of man do you think I am? I'll explain it all later. If we can wait him out for a little while, it will be dark. We can make our escape then. Just be still and keep your head down. Maybe he'll think we got away." The voice kept calling out to Antonio, but now it was all in Spanish. Jaime couldn't understand all that was said, and Antonio was not inclined to tell her. He didn't answer, but was able to keep Carlos's position pinpointed from the sound of his voice. At last it was dark enough to crawl from behind the rock without being seen. They stayed low and were very grateful that they were both wearing dark clothing. They could still hear him ranting in Spanish until they were nearly back to the house. Antonio located Juan, and told him to stay out of sight. They left the lights off and listened closely. Finally, they heard a truck engine start, a door slam, and a motor being gunned as it took off over the uneven ground. He was gone for now, but he would be back. They would need to be ready. They turned on a lamp and Jaime took her gun case from under the sofa. Opening it up, she checked the chambers. They were loaded, but she needed the rest of her ammunition. "I have to go to the car." Antonio had been watching her. "What for?" "I need my shells." "If you aren't working for Carlos, why do you carry guns?" "Is that why you were suspicious of me?" She asked as it dawned on her what it must look like. Not too many women carry guns. "Well, yes! Would you like to explain?" "After you." |