The Stranger and I. Carol Ericson
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What was the reason for your visit to Mexico?”
“Just came over as a tourist.” She didn’t want to get into any long explanations with him about her research as a marine biologist.
Gesturing to the car, he said, “Looks like you’ve been driving quite a bit.”
She shrugged. “Just down the coast and back.” Sucking in a breath, she held her smile and waited.
He shook his head. “It’s not a great idea for a woman to drive alone in Mexico.”
Stepping back, he waved her through. “Have a nice day.”
She expelled her breath, and breezed across the border into the United States of America.
Once she reached the border town of Nestor, she pulled off the road into the parking lot of a shopping center. She grabbed the grubby street map shoved in the door’s side pocket. After jotting down the directions to the address in Chad’s note, she took off to deliver the bad news and the dead body to Justin Vidal.
Cruising into San Diego, she searched for the address among streets that twisted and turned through hills and canyons. She found it tucked away on a quiet block dense with trees. A high fence and lush vegetation obscured the house from the road.
She pulled up across the street and, still favoring her sore ankle, walked through the gate up to a large wooden deck.
She rang the doorbell and knotted her hands in front of her. What was she doing? She had a dead guy in her trunk. She should just call the police right now. She spun on her heel, when a gruff voice from behind the door stopped her.
“Who is it?”
She gulped. “Ah, you don’t know me, but I met Chad Delaney in Mexico, and he gave me a lift, and—”
The thick wooden door jerked open. A strong arm shot out and dragged her across the threshold. That same arm encircled her neck, pinning her back against a body as hard as granite.
She clawed at his arm and stomped down on his foot in a futile struggle. A click close to her ear made her freeze. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the barrel of a very big gun.
The low voice, as smooth as silky, dark chocolate but not as sweet, purred in her ear. “That’s better. Now, who the hell are you, and where’s Chad?”
A river of anger coursed through her veins, washing away the fear. She did everything Chad asked of her, and his so-called friend planned to repay her with a bullet in the head?
She gasped out, “If you’d get your arm off my neck, I could tell you.”
The man grunted and released her so quickly, she stumbled. She pivoted and looked up into a pair of tawny-colored eyes glinting with sparks of anger. The man’s intense stare plucked an answering chord in her chest, and she raised her hand to cover her heart. Then her gaze fell to the gun still aimed in her direction.
“And stop pointing that thing at me. I’ve had just about enough of you and Chad, and, and…” She sagged against the door while hot tears scalded her cheeks. She sensed movement from the stranger, but he made no attempt to comfort her.
Comfort? Yeah, like a rattlesnake.
Damn, she hated crying. It never solved anything. Didn’t do much good when her father died, and wouldn’t do much good now in the face of this man’s smoldering fierceness.
Dragging a hand across her face, she heaved herself off the door. She glanced up through wet lashes at the imposing figure still standing in front of her, sinewy arms crossed over an unyielding chest. He watched her through narrowed eyes.
Tiger’s eyes.
But at least the gun had disappeared.
She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and croaked, “Can I sit down?”
He stepped back and nodded toward a chair by the window, his dark, wet hair falling over one eye. She limped to the hard chair and perched on the edge.
“Who are you, and where’s Chad?”
Gripping her knees, she drew a shaky breath. “Chad’s dead.”
The man in front of her swore softly but didn’t move, except for a twitching muscle in his jaw. Some emotion flickered in his eyes. Fear? Regret?
He intoned, “Go on.”
She dragged her hands through her tangled hair as she continued. “I met Chad three days ago just outside of Playa Roja. I’m a marine biologist, a graduate student at U.C. San Diego, and I went to Mexico to conduct a study of the marine life off the coast there.”
His lean jaw relaxed a little, and encouraged, she plunged ahead. “My car broke down, and Chad came by and gave me a lift.”
The man’s breath hissed out between his clenched teeth, but he said nothing. Every taut muscle in his body signaled danger.
She faltered. “I—I…He said he was driving back up across the border and could take me all the way into San Diego. We planned to drive all night, crossing the border in the early morning, but last night Chad mentioned he had to make a quick stop to meet a friend.”
Interrupting her for the first time since her monologue began, he asked, “Did he tell you why? Did he tell you his business in Mexico?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t say why he was meeting the friend, but he told me he came to Mexico for the surfing.”
Sinking into the chair across from her, he extended his long legs in front of him, crossing his ankles. “How’d he die?”
Lila shot him a look from under her eyelashes. His expressiveness rivaled the Terminator’s. Looked about as hard, too. “I climbed into the back seat to get some sleep, and when I woke up Chad was gone. He’d parked down a gravel access road at the edge of a clump of trees. I had a strange feeling when I woke up, so I crept to the clearing and saw Chad with his hands behind
him and two men questioning him. One had a gun and one had a whip or something. They asked him a question in a foreign language, he answered in the same language, and the one with the gun shot him.”
The man sprang forward, his eyes wide. “You mean, you witnessed Chad’s murder? Did these people see you?”
Was that concern for her? Encouraged by this first sign of emotion other than anger, she answered, “Yeah, I saw everything, but they didn’t see me. I hid behind some bushes.” She tilted her head. “I think Chad saw me though.”
He waited in silence, his muscles perfectly still, but even in repose the man buzzed with activity, a thinly contained restlessness.
Slumping in her chair, she massaged her temples. “After the men killed Chad, two other men came crashing through the bushes, yelling and screaming in Spanish.”
His brows shot up. “Two more men? What happened after that?”
She hunched her shoulders. “I didn’t want to stick around to find out. While I ran back to the car, I heard gunfire and a babble of voices. I got to the car and took off.” She bit her lip. “They probably heard me drive away, but I don’t think they followed me. Too busy shooting at each other.”
He shifted in the chair and ground out, “You don’t think they followed you? That’s rich. You probably led them right to my doorstep.”
He jumped up and peered between the plain white blinds as if expecting to see the two men standing on his deck.
With his back to her, Lila now saw the gun shoved in the waistband of his faded jeans. His damp T-shirt clung to his back, outlining his muscles. Must’ve just gotten out of the shower.
He spoke over his shoulder, “What are you doing here anyway, and why didn’t you call the Federales? Come to think of it, why didn’t you call the U.S. authorities once you crossed the border?”
She took a deep shuddering