Читать книгу Killer Cargo - Dana Mentink - Страница 10

Maria woke with a scream when the car tumbled into the shallow creek. Her head thunked against the door as the vehicle bumped and banged and finally came to rest on the driver’s side in the water with a horrible sound of twisting metal.

After a few moments of shocked immobility, she freed herself from the seat belt, ignoring the violent shuddering of her heart. Her first thought was for her passenger. Fortunately, she’d taken the precaution of belting Hank’s cage in the back when they’d stopped for gas, so the frightened rabbit was tossed, but not hurt. He shot her a confused look, one ear up and one hanging down, from his spot in the corner of the crate.

Duke was going to be furious when he saw his car. Frigid water was already seeping through the door. That problem would have to wait. She turned to Hank. “We’ve got to get out of here before you get wet.”

The rabbit blinked and scrambled to right himself.

Slowly, Maria eased out from under the steering wheel and reached the passenger-side window. With difficulty, she lowered the glass and stuck her head out.

A huge dark face with enormous eyes stared at her.

She screamed.

The man screamed, as well, before he whirled around and darted back into the trees.

Maria yanked her head back into the squashed car.

“Who…who was that?” Her mouth was dry. She waited a full five minutes before cautiously poking her head out again. There was no sign of the man in the moonlight. From her spot in the bottom of the ravine, she couldn’t see much, only a tangle of treetops and a swatch of dark sky overhead.

“I’m going to see if I can crawl out and then I’ll come back in for you, Hank. You just sit tight.”

Using the hand rest as a step, she eased herself out of the car and dropped to the gravel creek bed, tearing her pant leg in the process. “Things keep getting better and better,” she muttered.

Inch by inch, she crawled to the top of the ravine, hands scrabbling on loose rocks and wet dirt. Something lizardlike scurried by.

A voice spoke over the wind. “Who are you?”

Maria jerked her head up to find a man standing at the edge of the crevice. She had enough time to register his puzzled look before she lost her balance and toppled backward.

He reached out a hand one second too late to grab her wrist. Maria stumbled down the slope, rolling head over feet until she landed on her bottom in six inches of icy water and large stones.

The cold felt like an electric shock. It left her breathless.

This time she took the strong hand offered her by the man who climbed down. He hauled her to her feet and peered into her face.

“Are you hurt, miss?” His brown hair was close cut around his rectangular face.

Through the mud in her eyes and the gloom, it was difficult to get more than an impression of his features. A faint smell of fresh-baked bread hung about him.

“Uh, no. No. I’m not hurt, just bruised.” Her teeth began to chatter.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Me?”

“You do seem to be the only lady standing in my creek.” He took her by the elbow and guided her out of the water onto the gravel bank.

“Well, I’m, er…” Her teeth chattered so hard she couldn’t answer.

He raised an eyebrow and bent over, checking around the smashed car with a flashlight.

She squeezed her arms tight around herself. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure this vehicle isn’t leaking any contaminants into my creek.” He made a slow circle around the car before he straightened and clicked off the flashlight. “It seems to be just fine.”

Maria eyed the mangled blue car and the man’s easy smile. Fine? Did he say fine? The weight of the whole disastrous day splintered the remnants of her self-control.

The blood roared in her ears. “Everything’s all right? Look at that car. How exactly could that be all right? Duke is going to be furious when he finds the side bashed in. How can you even use the word fine when describing this mess, Mr.…Mr.…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sheridan. Cy Sheridan. And you are?”

She felt herself unraveling like a loose thread. Her words came out in a shriek through her chattering teeth without any guidance from her brain. “Me? I am nobody important. I am certainly not someone who is standing here freezing. I’m definitely not a woman who has lost the most important thing in her life today. And I am surely not a gal who has only had a pack of doughnuts to eat since last night.” The hysterical words bounced along the creek bed, echoing off into the night.

The man blinked, his head cocked. “I see. Well, do you want to get out of this miserable night and come in for a cup of tea? If you have no other plans, that is.”

The words took the oomph out of her rant. He was offering shelter and cups of tea? It sounded civilized enough and his smile was welcoming, but her trust level was lower than it had been two days ago. Her gut wrenched with indecision. He didn’t seem like the type who would be luring her into his house for nefarious purposes. Come to think of it, what other choice did she have? She had nowhere to go and no way to get there. “Um, well…yes, uh, that would be nice.”

She took his offered hand and they scrambled up the slope. His fingers were warm against her chilled palm.

At the top, she hesitated. “I’ve got to get Hank out of the car before he gets wet.”

“Hank?”

She nodded. “I sort of rescued him.”

“Hank is…?”

“A rabbit. A three-legged rabbit. He’s in a cage in the backseat.”

Cy’s laughter was a deep baritone. “Then Hank is invited to tea, also.”

A minute later Cy wrestled the crate out through the dented door while she retrieved her backpack. They walked through clusters of pine-scented trees toward the faint flicker of light in the distance.

Maria looked around for the massive figure that had frightened her earlier. “I saw a man. A really big man. He screamed louder than I did when we saw each other. That wasn’t you, was it?”

“That would be Stew. He’s my right-hand man but he’s not much of a people person. He’ll have to retreat to his room for who knows how long to recover. You’ve probably taken a few years off his life, crashing your car here.”

“I didn’t exactly…” Maria bit back the retort. He was right; she had wrecked a car on his property. Besides, he was inviting her into someplace warm and dry, and including her rabbit. The situation called for good manners along with extreme caution.

“We don’t get much company out here except for the inmates,” he said. “Bit of an isolated spot.”

Her pulse sped up. Inmates?

They approached a small wood-sided house with a stone chimney that poked out at an awkward angle. Cy eased the front door open with his foot and held it open for her.

The interior was small and blissfully warm, thanks to a fire that crackled in a stone fireplace. A worn sofa and wooden rocking chair huddled on a braided rug. She could make out the outline of a miniscule kitchen that adjoined the living room and a hallway that led to the back of the house.

Maria was deliriously happy to huddle close to the fire and warm her numb fingers. She kept a close eye on the rabbit. And her host.

Cy eased the cage onto the floor and peered through the bars. “Good thing this cage is solid. He seems okay. I’ll get him some celery while I heat up the kettle.”

Maria listened to him bang around in the kitchen. She paced the cozy room, eyeing the crowded bookshelf. Most of the volumes were biology-related with a few poetry books and one about photography. A Bible with a tattered cover sat on a tiny wood table. Behind the writing desk was a large paper map stuck full of pins. Her attention was diverted by a small movement. On the pass-through between the kitchen and the living room was an aquarium. She bent closer until her nose almost touched the glass.

A frog about the size of a baby shoe peered back at her. His smooth mottled skin blended in perfectly with the rock and foliage on which he sat. She watched his throat vibrate. “Hi, little guy. What are you doing here?”

Cy appeared over the counter. “I’m sure he would say hello right back at you if he could.”

“What’s his name? Is he your pet?”

“His name is Rana pretiosa but you can just call him a Spotted Frog. He’s not a pet, he’s a patient. A feral cat got hold of him and chomped him up pretty good, but he’s on the mend. He’ll be back looking for a mate in no time, God willing.”

“So you’re a frog doctor?”

Cy laughed. “I’m a frog doc among other things.” He rounded the corner and handed her a mug of tea. Droplets of water shone in his hair. She put his age at somewhere in the midthirties.

Maria tore her gaze away from his intense stare. She moved back to her position by the fire where she could watch him as he offered Hank the celery stalk. The rabbit yanked the thing into his cage and began to munch with gusto.

Cy nodded in approval. “He’s got a good appetite. Speaking of which, I think you said you hadn’t had more than doughnuts. I’ll just warm up some soup and bread. Will that suit?”

She nodded, mouth watering.

“I’ve learned your fuzzy friend’s name, but I still haven’t met you properly.” He held out a hand. “Cy Sheridan, as I said before.”

She put her hand in his. “Maria de Silva.”

“Maria. That’s a lovely name. Maria what?”

“Maria Francesca Joaquin de Silva.”

He laughed. “Maria, it is. Well, Miss Maria, not meaning to be forward here, but perhaps I could loan you some dry clothes?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

“You can’t be too comfortable.”

“How do you know that?”

His cheeks darkened. “Well, forgive me for saying so but you’re soaked to the bone.”

She noticed for the first time how her soggy clothes were creating a puddle on the floor. It was her turn to blush. Meekly, she followed him down the hallway, past a room filled with empty aquariums and cardboard boxes.

Cy led her to a tiny bedroom with a cot and a wooden trunk crammed in the corner. He opened the trunk and fished around until he came up with a pink sweat suit.

She watched him smooth the fabric as if he was soothing a small child.

“You may as well wear this. It does no good in a box when there’s a person who could use warming up.” He coughed. “Er, I’ll go see to that soup.”

Maria stripped off her wet clothes and laid them over the metal cot frame to dry. Then she pulled on the outfit. It smelled slightly of cedar and the whole getup was about two sizes too big and definitely not her color. Still, she was grateful to have something soft and dry against her chilled skin. As she rolled up the sleeves she wondered about the previous owner of the pink garments.

In the kitchen Cy stood over a pot of bubbling soup. He dished up two bowls of the creamy brew and put them on the table. When he saw Maria his expression changed. Was it sadness that shimmered in those hazel eyes?

He cleared his throat. “So the clothes will work? They’re on the large side, but they’ll be okay?”

“Yes. Thank you for loaning them to me.”

He busied himself setting spoons on the table. “Best to put things to good use. Sit down. Let’s get something in you besides junk.”

Her mouth watered as she sniffed the soup. “It smells great.”

Cy smiled and bowed his head to pray. Maria did the same.

“Heavenly Father, we thank You for this humble meal and for the warmth of the fire. May You use it to strengthen and nourish our bodies and souls. In Jesus’ precious name, Amen.”

Maria added a silent thought. And thank You, God, for keeping me and Hank alive this far.

The soup was divine, a thick creamy collection of vegetables and noodles. She ate greedily, trying not to slurp. “This is wonderful.”

“They say hunger is the best seasoning. It’s just all the dribs and drabs left over from the week cooked together.”

“It reminds me of ensopado. Have you ever had it?”

He shook his head. “Can’t say as I have.”

“It’s a thick chicken soup with a little taste of lime. My mother makes it all the time. She learned from my grandma.” She licked the last drop from her spoon. “I don’t suppose I could…”

Without a word he went to the stove and refilled her bowl. As she settled in to eat, he leaned back in his chair. “Suppose, Maria Francesca Joaquin de Silva, now that you’re warm and not quite so hungry, that you tell me how you wound up at One Word?”

“Where?”

“One Word. That’s the name of my property.”

“Why do you call it One Word?”

“I’ll tell you sometime, but for now, why don’t you do the talking? I’d like to know who I’m eating with.” He wasn’t smiling anymore.

Maria’s heart thudded. Marty the Murderer didn’t believe her story, so why would this man? “Well, uh, I’m a pilot, you see.”

His eyes brightened. “Really? Stew is a pilot. You two can talk shop on that subject.”

She tried to read his expression. Was he testing her? Did he think she was lying already? The thought made her bridle. “I own a small plane and I make my living shuttling cargo. I poked around and found something I shouldn’t have.”

He nodded for her to continue.

“It was, er, contraband. I decided to get out of there and I wound up here.”

“I see. So that wild blue excuse for a car is yours then?”

“Er, no. I borrowed it from a guy named Jacko at the airport. It belongs to his cousin Duke who’s in jail.”

“All right. You borrowed a car. How did you wind up here?”

“I was sort of in a hurry, and I lost all sense of direction. I fell asleep at the wheel.” There. That was the truth, ridiculous as it sounded.

He pulled her cell phone from his pocket. “I forgot to tell you. I found your phone in the car. Looks like you have a dead battery. Go get your charger, and I’ll plug it in for you.”

She snatched the phone from his fingers. “No, no. That’s okay. You don’t need to do that.”

Something flickered in his eyes. “Why not?”

The heat rose to her cheeks. She forced the words out of her throat. “I…um…don’t want to take any calls right now.”

“You don’t want someone to find you?”

She sighed. He would have to know and if he decided to kick her out, so be it. She’d take Hank and hit the road on foot. Slowly she nodded. “I’m sort of anxious to get away from someone who, um, is pretty eager to find me. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

He looked at her for a long time, the shifting fire casting odd shadows on his face. “Yes. I think this would be a good time for you to tell me the rest of the story.”

“The…rest of the story?”

“Yes, Miss Maria, and don’t leave out the explanation of the bullet holes in your windshield.” He locked eyes with hers. “I’m especially interested in that part.”