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The empty, silent street suddenly turned into a blazing, white-hot nightmare. Maggie dived around the corner, Mack on her heels, as the roar of machine-gun fire shattered the stillness. And then they were running, racing down the rough cobbled streets with the certain, terrifying knowledge that their lives depended on it. Maggie didn’t even turn back to make certain Mack was following; she could only run for her life and hope he was doing the same.

The maze of narrow, twisting streets heading back toward the center of town aided their escape. She could hear the pounding of booted feet, the martial shouts and orders from behind them, and she doubled her speed. Occasionally a face would peer from a window, someone would start out a door and then quickly retreat. And Maggie and Mack kept running.

A volley of shots rang out just as Maggie careened around another corner. She saw the plaster spurt off the side of a house as she turned to check for Mack. He was keeping pace with her, showing no signs of tiring, no signs of panic. She wondered if she appeared equally stoic. She doubted it.

The soldiers were gaining on them. Both she and Mack were in good shape, and they were fortunately unencumbered by heavy artillery. But the pounding footsteps and rapid-fire Spanish were getting closer and closer.

One more corner, and Maggie dashed around it. To be confronted by a tall stone wall.

Mack raced past her, leapt over the top of an abandoned car, and was on a shallow rooftop before she had time to do more than assimilate the situation. “Move your ass, Maggie,” he shouted, his raspy voice raw with his heavy breathing.

The rebels were behind them, closing in. She had only a few seconds to spare, and it was a dangerous, possibly deadly, idea. But she was suddenly confronted with the chance that she might lose him, as she’d lost everyone else, through her stubbornness.

She ran to the wall, a wall she could scale in seconds, and held up her arms. “Help me, Mack.”

He stared down at her in complete dumbfounded amazement, not moving. Seconds seemed to hang like hours in the hot afternoon, and the footsteps grew closer. May as well go all the way, Maggie thought. I may die for this stupid idea. “Help me,” she said. “I can’t make it.”

She had a moment to admire the touching aspects of her plea. If she expected Mack to be similarly moved, she was in for a shock. A look of complete, absolute fury whitened his face, and without a word he leaned down, wrapping his hands around her wrists like steel manacles. He yanked her up, slamming her knees against the edge of the roof, just as the rebels rounded the corner. And then he jerked her after him, a second ahead of the next spray of bullets.

Finally they reached a different part of town. The streets, while still narrow and twisting, were free of litter, the charming pastel houses were newly painted and spotless. One or two older American cars could be seen parked along the side streets, and dogs and children, both clean and well-fed, roamed freely.

Mack dropped her wrist like it was leprous. “We’re out of danger,” he said flatly, and she could see the rage vibrating through his sweat-soaked body. A rage she couldn’t even begin to understand. “I’ll see if I can find us a taxi back to the hotel.” And without another word, he walked away from her.

She stood there on the neat, quiet street and watched him go. She’d betrayed herself, and her highest principles, to bind him to her, to give him what she thought he wanted. She’d given him the power over life and death, and instead of bringing them closer, it had enraged him. And the tension and panic of the last minutes faded into a rage of her own.

He was back, moments later, with one of the local taxis. They rode together in silence back to the center of Tegucigalpa. She could feel Mack’s anger, and her own fury matched his, until they both marched stiffly through the lobby, heading for their room with one infuriated accord.

“You realize that Castanasta knows where to find us?” Mack said angrily when they were alone in the elevator.

“Yes.”

“What do you intend to do about it?”

“Not a goddamned thing. If he wants to blow you up, he can damned well do it, with my blessing,” she said through gritted teeth.

Together they marched down the wide, luxurious hallway of the newly built hotel. She could feel him waiting, hovering on the brink of some sort of explosion as she fumbled with the key, and she found she was looking forward to it. They stepped inside the cool, dark room, and she closed the door, intending to turn around and confront him with his unreasonable behavior.

She didn’t have a chance. He caught her shoulders in a painful, iron grip, turned her around, and slammed her with a great deal of unnecessary force against the wooden door. “Don’t you ever do something like that again,” he said, his voice shaking with fury.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she shot back. “And get your goddamned hands off of me.”

His fingers only dug in deeper, and he slammed her back against the wall for emphasis. “That touching little scene in the alleyway. ‘Help me, Mack,’ ” he mimicked savagely. “ ‘I can’t make it.’ ” His voice was a simper. “The day you couldn’t make it over that wall twice as fast as I could will be a cold day in hell, and I know it as well as you do! What the hell do you take me for?” He was absolutely roaring with rage.

“I was too tired—”

“Bullshit! You were playing games, Maggie. You decided I was some insecure male who needed my ego stroked, so you figured you’d let me save your life. In doing so you risked both our lives, and all for some stupid whim. Let me tell you, lady,” he continued, thumping her against the wall for emphasis, “I don’t need you or anybody else stroking my ego. I don’t give a damn if you save my life time and time again. I don’t have any overweening macho pride that will make me reject you in the long run, and you should know me well enough by now to realize it.”

“If you’ll stop throwing me against the wall,” she managed through gritted teeth, “I’ll explain to you—”

“I don’t need any explanations. You may not know me, but I know you like the back of my hand. I know the way your mind works, and I know how you try to manipulate me so you can feel in control. Well, forget about control, lady. You’ve just blown it completely, and it’s a whole new ball game. From now on you’re going to have to be completely honest, with me and with yourself, and n

o more manufactured rescues, no more dewy-eyed little pleas for help. Got that?” He banged her against the wall one last time, and it was one time too many.

She lashed out with every ounce of her strength and knew immediately she was outclassed. He had been holding back when he’d jumped her in Utah, but now he was using every ounce of the power in his body to subdue her, and it was considerable.

But Maggie knew a few tricks of her own. She twisted, turned, slammed her foot down on his instep, then swiftly brought her knee up to his groin.

Thankfully, for both their sakes, he was faster than she was. He twisted out of range, still gripping her shoulders, and then they were on the heavily carpeted floor, rolling over and over as Maggie tried to punch and pound and hit him.


Tags: Anne Stuart Maggie Bennett Suspense