Long, Tall Texans: Fearless Part 16

He pulled her into his arms and held her. "Bad temper," he muttered. "I say things I don't mean sometimes. I didn't mean that." He lifted his head and looked down at her. "I really didn't mean it."

She relaxed.

He let her back down and propped his hand beside her ear. "You don't want my children," he said quietly. His pride still stung from having her tell him that.

She grimaced. "I didn't mean that. Not really." She was still uncertain about her ability to carry a child. "I've been thinking things over, and I wouldn't mind having a child."

His eyebrows went up. His face relaxed into a radiant smile. "Truly?"

She smiled back. Her heart jumped at the expression there. "Truly."

He traced her soft mouth with his forefinger. "Then suppose you marry me?"

It was crazy. She couldn't get married; her job left her no free time. She couldn't have a child-it might kill her. But she was almost certainly pregnant already. If she could find a good doctor, who would keep close care of her, it might not be too dangerous. After all, she'd heard about Grace Carver who had a bad heart valve and she survived pregnancy when she married FBI agent Garon Grier. If Grace could do it, why couldn't Glory? Besides, with her past, she didn't want to have the baby out of wedlock. Those old-fas.h.i.+oned values she'd been taught early in life didn't go away easily.

"Come on," he chided.

She looked up at him and smiled. She never took risks. She was always conservative. But there was a promise of heaven in those black eyes and her heart was cutting cartwheels inside her. "Yes," she said, and refused to think of the consequences.

"Yes, what?" he teased, liking the helpless response she gave to his tender ardor.

"Yes, I'll marry you," she whispered.

His eyes flashed. Seconds later, his mouth was against hers, hard and demanding. She wanted him. She didn't mind if he didn't have a penny to his name and she'd never be financially secure. His heart was flying. She was so like Sarina...

He pulled away from her and sat up. She looked dreamy, happy. He felt guilty because he was using her, in a way, to escape the pain of rejection. But she'd never have to know. They could stay together for a while, enjoy each other. Then, later, perhaps there would be a child. The thought was suddenly depressing. He was only kidding himself that he could be happy with a subst.i.tute, even if there was a child. She would never be Sarina, and her child would never be Bernadette. The pain was like a rope around his heart, choking him.

"When?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He got up and hesitated, frowning. "When do you want to?"

She hesitated, too. He looked different suddenly. Perhaps he was having second thoughts. She should start having them; her life was in danger and she was living a lie. She had no business marrying anyone...

"Today," he said abruptly. "Right now."

"Right now?"

"We can be over the border in no time," he said. "Mexican weddings are binding."

Her head was swimming. Fuentes had sent a killer after her. Marco had pumped bullets through her bedroom door not a half hour ago. The real killer was still out there, and she was going off to marry a man who was probably a drug dealer, even if he wasn't a convict.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently.

She couldn't tell him all that. Not now. She looked up into his dark eyes and knew that it wouldn't matter. Whatever he was, she was already in love with him. It was far too late for second thoughts. Even if they had only a little time together, surely that was better than having no memories of love at all?

"Nothing's wrong," she lied. She got to her feet. "I'm game if you are."

He took her waist in his lean, strong hands and looked down into her soft green eyes. "You're taking me on faith," he said quietly. "I know you suspect that I'm not what I seem. We've danced around it, but I know you were with Marquez last night. And I know where you were, Glory."

She felt numb. She didn't want to have to think about his nocturnal activities. She wanted to marry him. She wanted to live with him. Her face reflected her troubled thoughts.

"You didn't know where Marquez was going, did you?" he asked slowly.

She took the opening he offered her. "No. He said we were going for a drive."

He pursed his lips. "Did he tell you why he was watching the warehouse in Comanche Wells?"

"Oh, yes," she agreed, lying through her teeth. "He said there was a deal going on to smuggle illegal immigrants into the county and hide them in that warehouse until they could be taken to safe houses."

He felt a weight lift from him. So Marquez wasn't on his case. He was working something totally different and had probably suspected Rodrigo was part of an immigrant smuggling enterprise. It made him feel less threatened.

"Rodrigo," she said gently. "You aren't getting mixed up in something that's against the law, are you?" she asked worriedly.

He sighed. He couldn't tell her the truth. "Will it help if I give you my solemn word that from now on, I'll never step outside the law?"

Her eyes were beautiful, radiant, full of dreams coming true. "Will you?" she asked and sounded breathless.

He smiled. "Yes."

"But I would have married you even if you were mixed up in something illegal, Rodrigo," she said gently. "Although I'd hope that you'd give it up, for me."

He felt like a boy on his first date. He started smiling and couldn't stop.

"I promise that I'll never hurt you. And I'll protect you from anyone who means you harm. If we're married, we can share a bedroom, and n.o.body will get near you at night. I'll take care of you."

Her heart flew. She smiled. Her face lit up. "I'll take care of you, too," she said impishly.

He chuckled. "You will? How kind of you."

She hugged him, impulsively, laying her cheek against his broad chest in perfect safety. "In my whole life," she said softly, "I've never felt as safe as I do when I'm with you."

That made him feel even more guilty, but he didn't let it show. He folded her close. "That's how I want you to feel."

He savored the warm contact, thinking how easily he could have lost her to Marco's insanity, could still lose her to violence. He wondered exactly what she'd seen that had put her life in danger. He meant to find out. But not today.

After a minute, he eased her out of his arms. "We'd better get going."

"What about Consuelo?" she asked suddenly, worried.

His eyes darkened. "We'll pretend she knew nothing about it and bide our time."

"Do you think she really was willing to let her son kill me?"

He looked uncomfortable. "I don't know, Glory," he said honestly. "I don't think she wanted him to."

"Neither do I. He belongs to the Serpientes gang," she added. "They don't forgive mistakes."

He c.o.c.ked his head as he studied her. "No, they don't." He wondered if Marquez had told her about that. How else would she know about a big city street gang?

"He may not live long enough to face charges."

"True enough."

"Poor Consuelo."

He tugged a long lock of blond hair. "You're still concerned about last night, aren't you?" he murmured.

He meant the drug drop. She reached up and put her fingers over his hard mouth. "I don't care what you are, what you do," she said huskily. "I only know that I...I care about you, and I trust you. It won't matter. None of it will matter."

He caught his breath audibly. She thought he was a criminal and she didn't care. She wanted him, no matter what. It was very humbling.

"One day, it might," he said honestly.

"Then we'll face that day together, when it comes," she said stubbornly.

He smiled gently. "I knew you were special the first time I saw you, when you drove me up a wall joking about the can can."

"You didn't like me very much."

"Actually I did," he replied. "And I admired you. It wasn't hard to notice that you didn't let the limp keep you down. You have a strong will, and a good heart."

She wanted to ask about the blonde woman, the one he cared for. Maybe there had been a true breakup there. But she was a coward. She didn't really want to know. She'd make him love her, somehow. She knew she could, if she tried. She'd keep her secret about the baby and about her real job, and go forward day by day.

THEY WERE MARRIED IN a small chapel by the village priest. He didn't speak English, but Rodrigo's native tongue was Spanish, so they got by. She hadn't asked about rings, but Rodrigo produced one at the ceremony and slid it onto her ring finger. The wedding ring was a complex embossed band with white and yellow gold in its pattern. The companion band was equally detailed and contained a large diamond. It must have cost a fortune. She wanted to protest, but it was too late. It was a little snug on her finger. She wondered, and hated herself for it, if he'd bought that set for someone else-that blonde woman, perhaps.

"They're beautiful," she said as they drove back across the border.

"What?"

"My rings," she replied, glancing at him. "However did you get them so quickly?"

"I've had them for a few months," he said noncommittally.

She hated them. She wanted to wrench them off her hand and throw them out the window. That would never do. He was grieving for that blonde woman and her child. But if Glory could be patient, perhaps she could make him love her. Then, then, she'd ask about the wedding and engagement rings. When she could safely tell him about the child she was certain she was carrying, he might buy her a new set of rings, purchased just for her.

CONSUELO WAS IN THE kitchen when they got home. She'd been crying, and she looked sick. She jumped when the back door opened.

"You're all right," she exclaimed when she saw Glory. "I was so worried! When I got back, you were gone, and all I could get from the workers was that they heard sirens! Marco called me from the detention center and said he needed a lawyer. What for?"

Rodrigo didn't smile. "Marco put two bullets through Glory's bedroom door, trying to shoot her."

Consuelo seemed horrified. "No. Oh, no, he wouldn't hurt you. There's been a misunderstanding, that's all," she said firmly. "I know they've arrested him, but he said he was only trying to get your attention. It was the other boy who shot the gun. He said the policeman charged him with a.s.sault and accused him of firing the shots, but Marco doesn't have a gun, you know. He's on parole, so he'd have to go back to prison if he had a gun."

Talk about trying to live in dreams, Glory thought. Poor woman. She couldn't stop defending her son, even when he was caught red-handed.

"Besides, the police did not find a gun," Consuelo added. She stared at them and then, slowly, began to realize that Glory was wearing rings. Her eyes widened. "You are married!" she exclaimed.

Rodrigo smiled. "Yes. We went across the border."

"But you should have told me! I can make a cake and we can have a special supper." She was in total denial. She pushed back her wild, disheveled hair. "I must see if there are enough eggs..."

"Consuelo, not tonight," Rodrigo told her. "It has been a very long day for Glory. She isn't feeling well, after the excitement earlier."

The older woman looked at her and noticed the flushed cheeks, the haunted eyes. She grimaced. "Pobrecita," she said softly. "I am so sorry. So sorry!"

Glory went forward and hugged her gently. "You don't ever have to apologize to me for anything," she said softly. "Thank you for the thought. But I'd really rather just lie down and not think about eating right now. I'm very tired."

"Of course you are." Consuelo stepped back. For an instant, her eyes looked odd. Glory couldn't think of a word to describe them. But then, she smiled, and the look was gone. "Think what you would like to have, and I'll bring it to you later. Okay?"

"Okay," Glory said, smiling.

Rodrigo took her arm and walked her down the hall to her room, glaring at the sight of the bullet holes in the wood. "We need to move you into my room," he said.

"Not right now," she pleaded, laughing softly. "I'm sorry, but I really am tired. I just want to lie down for a few minutes."

"That isn't a bad idea. I have to check on the men and see how they're doing. Castillo was supposed to get them started after lunch, but I like to make sure. You'll be all right," he added, bending to kiss her softly on her mouth. "Put your cell phone in your pocket and call me if you need me."

"I don't know your number," she replied.

He held out his hand. She put her phone into it. He flipped it open and pulled up her phonebook, frowning when he saw the names there. "The San Antonio D.A.'s office?" he murmured.

"About the Fuentes case," she said easily, forcing herself not to react.

"Of course." What a coincidence, he was thinking, that both of them were under the gun because of Fuentes. He pulled up another screen, added his number, gave it a speed-dial number and handed the phone back to her. "I'm speed-dial number fifteen," he said, and started laughing. "You must spend a lot of time on the phone."

Hours every day when she was at work, but she couldn't tell him that. "I work for a temporary agency when I'm not cooking," she told him demurely. "I have regular clients that I work for."

He nodded. His mind was already on work. "I'll be back soon," he promised. He helped her onto the bed and kissed her one last time. "You look pretty, Seora Ramirez," he teased. Strange, how right it sounded.

She felt the same. She smiled up at him with her whole heart. "Seora Ramirez," she seconded with a sigh. She'd never expected to marry at all. Now she was married to a man who might be a drug smuggler. But she wasn't going to think about that today. She was going to savor being married to this s.e.xy, fantastic man.

He winked at her from the door.

She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

That night, she slept in Rodrigo's arms. It was the first night of her adult life that she'd slept well. He hadn't approached her s.e.xually, murmuring that she'd had too much excitement already for one day. Besides, he added, they had the rest of their lives for that particular pleasure.

GLORY WORKED IN THE kitchen with Consuelo, as usual, but the older woman was clearly distracted. Just about noon, the phone rang and she rushed to answer it.

"Marco?" she exclaimed. "Where are you? What? No. No! How could they have found it? Oh, that idiot boy, I warned you...!" She glanced at Glory. She was speaking Spanish. Glory was working away, apparently ignorant of what her co-worker was saying. "I will find an attorney to represent you. Yes, I understand. I will. I said I will, Marco! Don't worry, I'll find a way to get you out. Just do what they say for now. Yes. Yes. I love you."

She hung up, moving back to the stove where Glory was stirring the last batch of peaches.

"Bad news?" Glory asked.

"That idiot boy that Marco hangs out with had the pistol. He was the one who shot at your door, because he was drunk," Consuelo said. "Now he runs away and Marco is charged with breaking parole by owning a firearm. I could strangle that boy!"

Nothing was ever Marco's fault, Glory discerned. It was always somebody else who made the mistake and blamed Marco for it.