Free Ed McBain by Learning to Kill: Stories Page A

you?"
    "With that pig across the way? I'll stay awake, thanks."
    She grinned. "Carrera will sleep. You can bet on that."
    "I wish I could bet on that. I'd go right over and make sure he never woke up."
    "Oh my," she mocked, "such a tough one."
    I said nothing.
    "I don't even know your name," she said.
    "Jeff," I told her. "Jeff MacCauley."
    She rolled over, trying to make herself comfortable. It wasn't easy with her hands and feet bound. She settled for her left side, her arms behind her, her legs together.
    "Well," she said, "
buenos noches,
Jeff."
    I didn't answer.
    I was watching the rocks across the clearing. Carrera may have planned on sleeping the night, but I wasn't counting on it.

    She woke up about two A.M. She pushed herself to a sitting position and stared into the darkness.
    "Jeff," she whispered. Her accent made my name sound like "Jaif." I pulled the .45 from my waistband and walked over to her.
    "What is it?"
    "My hands. They're ... I can't feel anything. I think the blood has stopped."
    I knelt down beside her and reached for her hands. The strap didn't seem too tight. "You'll be all right," I said.
    "But ... they feel numb. It's like ... like there is nothing below my wrists, Jeff."
    Her voice broke, and I wondered if she were telling the truth. I held the .45 in my right hand and tugged at the strap with my left. I loosened it, and she pulled her hands free and began massaging the wrists, breathing deeply.
    "That's much better," she said.
    I kept the .45 pointed at her. She looked at the open muzzle and sighed, as if she were being patient with a precocious little boy. She leaned back on her arms then, tilting her head to the sky, her black hair streaming down her back.
    It's a beautiful night," she said.
    "Yeah."
    "Just look at the moon, Jeff."
    I glanced up at the moon, taking my eyes off her for a second.
    That was all the time she needed.
    She sprang with the speed of a mountain lion, pushing herself up with her bound feet, her fingernails raking down the length of my arm, clawing at my gun hand. I yanked the gun back and she dove at me again, the nails slashing across my face. She threw herself onto my chest, her hands seeking the wrist of my gun hand, tightening there, the nails digging deep into my flesh. I rolled over, slapping the muzzle of the .45 against her shoulder.
    She fell backward and then pushed herself up from the ground, murder in her eyes. She hopped forward, and I backed away from her. She kept hopping, her feet close together, the material from her skirt keeping her in check. And then she toppled forward, and she would have kissed the ground if I hadn't caught her in my arms.
    She kissed me instead.
    Or I kissed her.
    It was hard to tell which. She was falling, and I reached for her, and she was suddenly in my arms. There was a question in her eyes for a single instant, and then the question seemed to haze over. She closed her eyes and lifted her mouth to mine.

    Sunlight spilled over the twisted ground, pushing at the shadows, chasing the night.
    She was still in my arms when I woke up. I stared down at her, not wanting to move, afraid to wake her.
    And then her eyes popped open suddenly, and a sleepy smile tilted the corners of her mouth.
    "Good morning," she said.
    "Hello."
    She yawned, stretching her arms over her head. She took a deep breath and then smiled, and I looked deep into her eyes, trying to read whatever was hidden in their brown depths.
    "Your boyfriend," I said. "Carrera."
    "He's not my boyfriend."
    Her face was serious, so serious that it startled me.
    "No?"
    "No."
    "He's still got my ten thousand," I said. "I know."
    "I want it back."
    "I know."
    "I want you to help me get it."
    She was silent for a long while.
    When she spoke, her voice was a whisper.
    "Why?"
    "Why? Holy Jesus, that's ten thousand bucks! You know how much work I did to get that money?"
    "Why not forget it?
    "Forget it? No."
    "Carrera will kill you. I know him. Would you rather be dead without your