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  The enormous shadow that was Julio froze. "Who's that?"

  "No one important," Kate answered impatiently. "He's no threat, Julio. Let's just get out of here."

  "Yes, by all means," Beau agreed. "Before what's-his-name comes barreling out of that back room." He turned and started for the front entrance. "Fol­low me, Julio."

  He didn't turn to see if he was being obeyed but moved lithely through the cursing, milling throng, thrusting people out of the way with ruthless effi­ciency until he came to the door that Julio had left open. As he went through it, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the giant close on his heels with his unwieldy burden. The streetlight on the corner cast a shadowy illumination over the man and Beau pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. Julio had to be six feet five at least and built like a tackle for the Rams.

  "There's an alley about a block down," Kate said. "We can stay there until the coast is clear." She was turning left and leading the way. "Oh, hurry, Julio!"

  Beau answered. "We're right behind you."

  "Not you." She cast him an exasperated glance over her shoulder. "Go away!"

  "I can't do that," Beau said lightly. "How do I know what you're planning on doing to our friend here? You might be thinking of throwing him off the dock and then I'd be an accomplice to murder." He shook his head. "No, I really think I'd better tag along and protect my interests."

  "We're not going to do any such thing," Kate said indignantly. "Can't you see we're rescuing him?"

  "Was that what you were doing?" Beau's brow arched quizzically. "It Was all a little muddled back there. The only obvious victim appeared to be our friend Ralph." There was a touch of tiger in his smile. "Not that I'm objecting to his disposal, you understand. I was planning on taking him out anyway."

  "Well, I did it for you," Kate answered as she turned into a pitch-dark alley that stank of garbage and wet cardboard boxes. "But Despard may remember you when he wakes up so you'd be wise to leave Castellano before he does. He's not going to be at all pleased with any of us."

  "How unfortunate," Beau murmured. "And I was hoping for such a pleasant relationship."

  They'd reached the end of the alley and Kate motioned for Julio to put his burden down in an alcove formed by a deeply recessed side door. "You're very amused by all this, aren't you? You may not find it so entertaining if Despard realizes that you helped us. He's a very dangerous man."

  "I must admit your little play certainly livened up a boring evening," he said coolly. "Would you care to tell me why this Despard is such a threat?" "He's a drug runner," Kate said. "One of the big­gest in the Caribbean and he has contacts high up in the government of Castellano. Your American citizenship might protect you from the govern­ment, but not from Despard's men." She paused uncertainly. "You are American, aren't you? You have a very odd accent."

  "I'm from Virginia." There was a thread of indig­nation in his voice. "And there's nothing odd about a Southern accent. It's Yankees who talk funny."

  "Is that what it is?" she asked as she knelt beside the man Julio had propped against the alcove wall.

  She fumbled in the pocket of her jeans and sud­denly there was the flickering flame of a lighter illuminating the darkness. "I've never heard one before."

  Never heard a Southern accent before? Yet she herself sounded as American as apple pie. "Where are you from?"

  "All around," she said vaguely, lifting the uncon­scious man's eyelid. "He's dead to the world, Julio. There's no way we can get him all the way through town and into the forest without you carrying him." She sat back on her heels. "And someone's bound to notice and report back to Despard. He owns almost everyone in town."

  Julio dropped to his knees beside her. "So what do we do?"

  She pressed a hand to her temple. "How do I know? Let me think a minute."

  "Perhaps I could offer a suggestion or two," Beau said. "I take it your unconscious friend here is now on the run from both the local authorities and this Despard and you're looking for a place to hide him until you can get him off the island. Is that cor­rect?" When she nodded, he continued. "I have a safe place not two blocks from here. I can also guar­antee to get both him and the two of you off Castellano and as far away as Trinidad if you like." He arched an eyebrow inquiringly. "Interested?"

  She nodded slowly. "Where is this place?"

  "I own a schooner docked in the harbor. All you have to do is say the word and we'll take your fugi­tive there."

  Her brilliant blue eyes were clear and direct in the flickering glow of the lighter. "And what word is that?" she asked quietly.

  His lips curved in a mocking smile. "Yes," he said. "You only have to say yes to that proposition I put to you in the bar. Not a very high price to pay for your friend's safety, is it?"

  She was very still for a moment. "No, not a very high price." She turned away so he could see only her profile as she gazed tenderly down at the face of the unconscious man. "Cheap, really."

  "Proposition?" Julio asked with a suspicious frown.

  "Don't worry, Julio," Kate said quietly. "The gen­tleman and I understand each other."

  "But what kind of—"

  "I said it was okay." Kate's tone brooked no argu­ment. "Forget it. We have more important things to be concerned about right now." Her eyes met Beau's. "All right. It's a bargain."

  "Good." He felt a thrill of excitement out of all proportion to the victory he'd won. Excitement, he wondered cynically, or was it merely pure lust? Perhaps a little of both. "Now that we have that out of the way perhaps introductions are in order." He inclined his head in a sketch of a bow. "Beau Lantry, at your service."

  "Kate Gilbert. And this is Julio Rodriguez."

  "And our inebriated friend?"

  Kate gently brushed a lank strand of hair from the unconscious man's forehead. "Jeffrey Brenden."

  "A relation?" He was feeling that same surge of unreasonable jealousy he'd known when shield smiled at Despard in the bar.

  She shook her head. "No relation, just a friend."

  "Well, I suggest we get your 'friend' to his safe and cozy berth."

  "It's too soon for Julio to move him yet. They might be spotted," she said. "But I think we can go now." She flicked him a cool glance. "I have a job to do before I leave Castellano. I want you to help me."

  "The cache?" Julio asked, shaking his head. "It's too dangerous, Kate. If you're caught even near that place Despard's men will kill you."

  She ignored him, her gaze fixed with quiet challenge on Beau. "He's right. It's very dangerous. That should amuse you even more than what hap­pened in the bar. Will you come with me?"

  "Is it illegal or just immoral?" Beau asked lightly.

  "Neither, except on Castellano. In fact, the U.S. Customs Service would probably give you a medal." She smiled slightly. "We're going to burn up about six million dollars' worth of cocaine."

  Beau gave a low whistle. "Well, I suppose I've got to protect my investment. Besides, I've always been fond of medals. I haven't won one for years. I believe it's time I tried my luck again." He turned to Julio. "The schooner is called the Searcher. The captain is Daniel Seifert and all you have to do is tell him that Beau sent you. He'll take it from there."

  Julio frowned uncertainly. "He won't ask any questions?"

  Beau shook his head. "He may be a little curious, but he won't object. Daniel's used to my way of doing things by now."

  That clear blue gaze was on his face again, this time gravely searching. "And this type of thing isn't all that unusual for you, is it? You like the excitement of skating on thin ice."

  He suddenly chuckled. "Funny you should say that. I haven't given a thought to skating for two years." His lips quirked. "But I have to admit that thin ice definitely makes things more interesting." He stood up and reached out his hand to pull her to her feet. "Shall we go and see if we can find some?"

  Two

  The glow from the streetlight at the end of the alley revealed that his eyes weren't really b
rown as she'd first thought. They were hazel with odd golden flecks about the pupil that gave him an air of reck­less instability. They were gleaming now with excitement—and that recklessness—as he looked down at her. "Is it too much to ask where this cache of cocaine is located?"

  "Only a few blocks away. Despard and his men are using a small deserted warehouse close to the waterfront for storage. They were going to trans­port the cocaine by sea but they weren't able to hijack the yacht they wanted." Kate glanced up and down the street cautiously before turning right and motioning to Beau to follow. "It shouldn't take us more than fifteen minutes to get there."

  "Providing we don't run into trouble." He fell into step with her, easily accommodating his long strides to her short but rapid steps. "It appears we've given your criminal cohorts the slip, but that doesn't mean they won't catch up with us."

  "You don't have to sound so hopeful," she said, shooting him an indignant glance. "You may be enjoying all this enormously, but I assure you I'm taking it very seriously." She frowned. "And Despard isn't any cohort of ours. I can't stand the man. He's a damn cockatrice."

  "A what?" he asked blankly.

  "A cockatrice," she repeated impatiently. "You know, the mythical serpent that could kill with a look."

  "Oh, of course." Beau's lips were twitching. "How could I have forgotten? Please forgive me. I can see how lumping you together with this cocka­trice would be a terrible faux pas. It just seemed reasonable to assume you'd been partners with Despard and had a falling out."

  "No, Jeffrey never takes partners. He works alone." She gave him a fierce glance. "And he's not really a criminal. Not like those cockatrices."

  "Really? Well, what kind of criminal is he?" Beau asked idly. "I gather he was scheduled to transport this cocaine illegally into the U.S. I believe that constitutes smuggling and the last I heard that was considered very criminal indeed. Are you say­ing he's not a smuggler?"

  "No." She frowned unhappily. "Yes. Oh, I guess he is, but he doesn't look at it that way. He never smuggles drugs or liquor or anything that could actually hurt someone."

  "It's unfortunate that the authorities don't regard the smuggling of things that don't actually hurt someone as all right."

  "Jeffrey is a throwback to another era. He sees himself as some sort of Henry Morgan or Jean Laffite." She shrugged helplessly. "He regards

  smuggling as a sort of modern-day gentleman's adventurous pastime."

  "And do you feel the same way?"

  She shook her head. "No," she said simply. "But I know he believes it, and that's enough for me."

  "Such devotion." There was a barbed sting to his mockery. "Your lover must be very grateful for such an understanding mistress, as well as such an enterprising one. How often do you drag him out of situations like that one tonight?"

  Her eyes widened in surprise. "Jeffrey isn't my lover." It never occurred to her he would think that but it was also obvious that for some reason the idea didn't sit well with him.

  His gaze flew swiftly to her face. "Then the other one?"

  "Julio?" She had to laugh. "Julio's only eighteen."

  "He looks older. I would have said he was at least twenty-five." His lips quirked again. "And an old lady like you isn't interested in younger men, I take it?"

  "Julio's been through a lot. His life has been very difficult." Her expression was suddenly sober. "We're all friends, that's all. We take care of each other." Her clear blue eyes held a childlike gravity as they looked up at him. "Haven't you ever had a woman as a friend?"

  "Once." He grimaced. "A very special lady, but unfortunately six years' bondage went along with that friendship, so I've shied away from even the thought of seeing a woman in that light ever since." His smile was frankly sensual. "I prefer that the bondage be short term and gratifying to both parties. Like the very satisfying terms we recently negotiated."

  She nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Yes, I can see you'd hate any curb on your freedom." She sensed there was something wild—a charged restlessness that was almost explosive, perhaps— beneath his droll speech and behavior. "I think perhaps you may be the type of man Jeffrey has tried to be all his life. You don't have any pirate blood in your ancestry by any chance?"

  "Well, now that you mention it, there was a Lantry who was a privateer during the War of 1812," he said lightly. "Avery efficient one I under­stand. He founded the family fortune on booty he wrested from the British." He winked. "As well as the French, the Spanish, the Dutch, and everyone else on the high seas. All in the name of patriotism, you know."

  "You and Jeffrey would probably get along very well. You're obviously kindred spirits."

  She suddenly smiled at him and he inhaled sharply. Lord, that was a lovely smile, he realized once again. It was like a ray of warm sunlight on a cold winter's day.

  "It's more than likely he'll try to talk you into going into business with him," she continued. "Would you be interested?"

  "Smuggling?" He shook his head. "There's only one aspect of your Jeffrey's little operation that intrigues me—and I'm looking at her." His gaze was lingering on the high curve of her breasts outlined beneath the blue chambray work shirt. "Though not nearly enough of her at the present time."

  Kate felt a heat start in her breasts and begin to spread slowly through her body. It was as if he'd unbuttoned her shirt and caressed her. Her response to his look was so raw, so primitive that it shocked her. If a glance from those odd golden eyes could do that to her, then what would it be like when he actually touched her? She was suddenly glad that the street was lit only by the occasional dim street lamp. There was no way she wanted him to see the warm flush that was mantling her

  cheeks or to notice that her breathing had become a little shallow. She glanced away hurriedly. "When?"

  His brow lifted inquiringly. "When?"

  "When do you want me to go to bed with you?" she asked clearly. "And how many times before you feel the bargain is fulfilled? I'd like to know, please."

  "You don't believe in being coyly retiring, do you?" There was a trace of annoyance mixed with the amusement in his voice. "Would you like me to draw up a contract and set out precise terms and conditions?" He suddenly chuckled. "That could be pretty erotic! We could list all the positions I'd require and then go on to—"

  "I just like to have things open and aboveboard," she interrupted. She could feel her cheeks burn even hotter. "I don't think that's so amusing."

  There was an endearing little-girl awkwardness about her that aroused a queer protective tender­ness in him. "No, it's not really amusing," he said gently. "I've been accused of having a rather puck­ish sense of humor upon occasion. You'll get used to it. As for your passion for laying the cards on the table, let's see if I can satisfy you." His eyes twin­kled roguishly. "I really didn't mean that as a dou­ble entendre. Now that it's popped out, though, let me promise I will satisfy you as well. Let's see, your first question was 'when.' " His smile faded and she was once more aware of the smoldering sensu­ality below the surface. "As soon as possible. I'd take you right now if I could. I want you so much I'm aching with the need of you." He glanced down into her startled eyes. "It's surprising the hell out me too," he said grimly. "I can't remember ever feel­ing quite this degree of sexual urgency. Particu­larly when the woman in question is selling her body for a price tag that could possibly get me killed." Then the grimness was gone, replaced by that now familiar mockery. "As for the rest, don't worry about it. I'm not particularly kinky and I won't do anything you won't enjoy." He reached out and touched his index finger to her cheek. "And I'm sorry, but I'm not going to set a limit on the times I'm going to make love to you. I have a hunch it may go on for a long, long time. It may even develop into a full-scale affair. I'll require you to stay with me as long as I want you. Period. Is your friend Jeffrey's safety worth that degree of commitment or does that change the picture?"

  Her cheek felt as if it were burning beneath that light touch and her heart was accele
rating crazily. She tried to hold her voice steady. "He's worth it." She edged away so that his disconcerting hand no longer touched her face. "And no, it doesn't change anything. I just wanted to know."

  "Well, now you do." She could sense the tension ebbing out of him as he relaxed. "And we can get on to accomplishing this little task you've set up to test my mettle." He made a face. "I can't say it wasn't a clever move. If I get killed by these charm­ing gentlemen you're associated with, you won't have to payoff."

  "Don't say that," she said sharply, her eyes wide with fright. "Nothing's going to happen to you. I'd never have insisted you come if I'd thought there was really a chance you might be harmed. I only brought you along because I need a lookout. I'll do everything myself." She drew a deep shaky breath. "You needn't be afraid. I'll take care of you."

  She meant it. He'd started to chuckle but the laughter vanished as he met that childlike earnest­ness in her eyes. He supposed he should have been a little insulted that she'd presumed he needed her protection. Somehow, though, he wasn't. He was touched and moved and suddenly feeling that inex­plicable tenderness once again. "Thank you," he said with grave courtesy. "I'm sure you could protect me very well, but I never did like a bystander's role. Perhaps I can find something to do to make things a bit more interesting." As she opened her lips to protest, he asked quickly, "How close are we to the warehouse?"

  "We're almost there. It's just around the corner and down a few buildings. It's set off by itself, thank heavens. We don't have to worry about any­thing else catching on fire."

  "I'm sure the citizens of Mariba will be grateful for that," Beau drawled. "They may even put up a statue in the city square in your honor." His tongue moistened his lower lip in mock lascivious-ness. "In fact, if you'll promise to pose in the nude, I'd probably commission it myself."

  "Oh, be quiet." She couldn't keep a little smile from tugging at her lips. The man was completely impossible. "This isn't funny, Beau. I wouldn't be here if it were."