“Maybe,” she said sleepily, burrowing against him. “Mack?”
“Yup?”
“Turn out the light.”
His arms tightened for a moment. And then he plunged the room into darkness.
She lay there in the circle of his arms, willing herself to relax in the blackness. Tonight she didn’t have the advantage of soporific sex, tonight she had only a hard mattress and a scratchy blanket. And Mack. She sighed, letting the tension drain out of her. It was enough.
She was instantly awake. The blackness was like a thick velvet curtain around them, smothering, and she fought back the panic that threatened to strangle her. And then she heard it again, the noise that had penetrated her sleep and pulled her out of it with wrenching force.
She sat up, yanking at Mack’s still-sleeping figure. “Wake up, Mack,” she whispered in his ear. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“What? Why?” he mumbled sleepily. “What’s happening?”
“Shhh.” She shoved her hand across his mouth. “Something’s going down, and we’d better get the hell out of here.”
“What?” he said again, finally alert.
“I don’t know. And I don’t want to wait around long enough to find out. We’re in the midst of a war here, and I don’t feel like being a civilian casualty.” She was sliding her running shoes on, and Mack quickly followed suit.
“Shouldn’t we warn Willis?”
“Willis can take care of himself. Come on. I think we’d better go out the window. They may be watching the front door.”
They were watching the windows too. No sooner had Maggie followed Mack out the window to land on the packed dirt than she found herself facing a gun barrel. And above it the dark, angry eyes of a man in uniform. From what side she couldn’t even begin to guess.
Mack had already raised his arms, and Maggie quickly followed suit. It was a very nasty-looking gun. The sounds in the village square were louder now, and there was no doubt that a great many troops were amassed in Chicaste. Their captor, however, was alone.
“Listen, you don’t have to hold that gun on us,” Maggie said earnestly in her idiomatic Spanish. “We’re friends of Willis’s. Of the rebels,” she said, lying.
The man grinned, showing very white teeth. “Unfortunate for you, senorita. Because we’re enemies of Senor Willis, and the rebels. I’m Captain Esteban of the Liberation Army, and we’re here to clean out this nest of vipers. And their American advisers.”
Damn, Maggie thought. Blew it again. She gave Captain Esteban a brilliant smile. “Do I look like an adviser? We’re tourists.”
“You do not look like an adviser, senorita,” the captain agreed. “Your man, however, is another matter. He is like a caged lion, and a very dangerous hombre, I suspect.”
Mack said nothing, and Maggie spared him a fleeting glance. Mack did look grim, and dangerous, and she was no longer surprised he’d managed to flatten Willis.
“But, Captain,” she said sweetly, edging closer and ignoring the gun still pointed at the two of them, “I promise you that I would never—”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. He wasn’t as fast as Mack, and her foot connected with his groin before he even saw her move. Seconds later he was on the ground, moaning. And then he was silenced by Mack’s very efficient right cross to the jaw.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Mack said as he grabbed the captain’s gun.
“My sentiments exactly,” Maggie said breathlessly. “Are we going to try for our Jeep?”
“I don’t know how else we’ll get back to Danli. I’m game if you are.”
“Let’s do it.”
Together they crept into the surrounding underbrush. Any noise they made was covered by the sound of gunfire, the rapid staccato of machine guns, and the steady crak-crak of semiautomatics. Maggie touched the handgun in her belt for luck, and her hand was cold and sweaty. The adrenaline was pumping through her system, her heart was racing, and she was terrified. She looked at Mack in the midnight darkness, wondering if he felt the same.
They circled the village, managing to steer clear of the rampaging groups of soldiers. In the dark there was no way to tell who were the good guys and who were the bad. As a matter of fact, Maggie was no longer so certain if the light would have made any difference. She was heartily sick of revolutionaries and counterrevolutionaries, and the fabled spotless conformity of Switzerland began to appeal to her greatly.
The Jeep was still there, in a more deserted part of the square. Maggie could see what looked ominously like a firing squad up ahead, and a cold sickness filled her. Consuela was one of the people lined up against the wall, still wringing her long hands. There was no sign of Willis.
Maggie started forward, but Mack’s arm shot out and dragged her back. “Get in the Jeep, Maggie.”