Free Desert Dreams by Deborah Cox Page A

him, tugging at his soul.
She had mistaken his actions. She'd believed he was leaving now. He turned to
face her as he reached his horse, his heart aching at the defeat in her eyes, even
though he knew he would use her misinterpretation to his benefit.
    "Gold." She whispered the word, but it was
unmistakable.
    "Where?"
    "I won't tell you. I'll take you there, but I won't tell
you where it is."
    Damn her stubbornness. He should just show her how easily he
could make her tell him what he wanted to know. So why didn't he? Maybe he was
just as much a fool as she was. He picked up his bedroll where he'd dropped it
earlier.
    "Get some sleep," he said harshly.
    "Then you'll help me?"
    "Help you? Yeah, since you're hell bent on getting
yourself killed—or worse—I'll help you." He threw his bedroll on the
ground beside the fire and kicked it out until it lay flat.
    “But sooner or later, you’re going to have to tell me where
we’re going.”

 
    Chapter 5

 
    Felipe Delgado, known to allies and
enemies alike as El Alacran , sat at a table in a
cantina in San Tomas, Texas, with a weeping mulatto girl of perhaps sixteen on
his knee. His left arm encircled her slim waist. With his right hand he lifted
a glass from the table beside him and tossed down a shot of tequila, then
poured himself another and downed it as well.
    They had crossed the Rio Grande in broad daylight, riding
into the sleepy little town before sundown, forty bandidos —Mexicans, Americans, Indians—loaded
down with weapons, sunlight glinting off silver studs and the weapons they
fired into the air.
    The citizens, an equal mixture of Mexican and Anglo, had run
for safety, knowing there was none to be found. It was not the first time bandidos from across the
border had vented their savagery upon San Tomas.
    The sounds of sporadic gunfire, women screaming, and men
laughing reached El Alacran from the street outside,
and his lips curved into a cruel smile. There had been nothing in this stinking
town to warrant his interest, not enough gold to fill a single saddlebag, not
enough jewelry and silver to fill even one wagon. It would have been a complete
waste, if not for the women.
    He laughed, squeezing the girl on his lap tighter, enjoying
the smell of her fear and the feel of her squirming body against his groin.
    She was probably a virgin.
    He plunged a hand inside her loose peasant blouse and closed
his fingers over a soft young breast, eliciting a cry from her. His mind reeled
from the tequila and from the exhilaration of today's violence. His body pulsed
with anticipation.
    Still, he remained lucid enough to think of his options. If
she were a virgin, he could demand a high price for her on the other side of
the border. But his body quickened when he imagined how tight she would be, how
she would scream and fight when he took her, and he knew he would not be
delivering a virgin to Piedras Negras ,
not this one anyway.
    He wrapped his right hand in the girl's dark hair, pulling
her head down to him, capturing her lips in a brutal kiss. He ignored her
flailing hands, which pummeled and clawed at his shoulders and arms, laughing
deep in his throat at the excitement her ineffectual efforts aroused in him.
    The door to the cantina opened and closed behind him, but he
didn't bother to turn and look. His men were positioned outside. No one who
posed a danger to him could get past them.
    But when he heard a chair scrape away from the table where he
sat, he glanced past the struggling girl to see Diego Munoz turn the chair
around and straddle it.
    El Alacran released the girl's
head. She tried to escape him but he held her easily, controlling her with one
arm while he poured another drink and waited for his most trusted man to speak.
    "Luis finally showed up in San Antonio," Munoz told
him.
    El Alacran's chiseled features
shifted almost imperceptibly at the announcement, but he held his silence.
Munoz dropped his gaze, so El Alacran knew there was
more.
    Munoz took a