“I’m not your woman!”
“I didn’t say you were. I said that’s what it would look like. Now stop arguing and get out of the fucking car. And keep your mouth shut once we’re in the cantina. In case you haven’t realized it, Calliveria is a man’s world, and women should be seen and not heard.”
She unfastened her seat belt and climbed out, simply because she knew he’d haul her out if she didn’t. “You know I really hate you, don’t you?” she said bitterly, trying to stretch her aching muscles.
“Sure you do, Parker. You hate me about as much as I hate you.” There was something in his voice, and she looked up quickly, but his expression gave away nothing.
“Well, as long as we understand each other,” she said stiffly.
He laughed, the bastard. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.” He took her arm, and she tried to yank free, but he simply tightened his grip as they climbed up the front steps of the run-down cantina.
The place was empty. An electric fan spun lazily overhead, stirring up a haze of dust motes in the late afternoon sun. All Jenny could think of was some of the old westerns she’d watched—she half expected to see dance-hall girls and gamblers. The bar, however, was a simple length of wood at the far end of the room, and by the time they reached it a pretty young girl in a low-cut blouse had appeared, smiling at them.
“What can I do for you, señor?” she said in Spanish, not even bothering to glance at Jenny. And what woman would, she thought, if there was a man who looked like Ryder nearby—anyone else would fade into insignificance.
“Dos cervezas,” he said. “And maybe you could help us.”
“Of course, señor,” she said, and her eyes drifted over Jenny for a moment, then dismissed her. Bitch, Jenny thought amiably. The two lukewarm beers appeared on the scarred wooden countertop. “It’s not often we see turistas in Talaca.” She was clearly fishing for information, but Ryder didn’t seem inclined to deny her.
“We’re looking for my girlfriend’s half sister. She and Soledad had a fight, and the last we heard she’d come down here. Of course Jenny wants to find her and apologize,
but we have no idea where she is. Perhaps I might show you a photo?”
“Of course, señor. But I have seen no strange women around here for weeks. Your ‘girlfriend’ is the first.”
Jenny could hear the virtual quotes around the word girlfriend and her temper rose. Obviously a man like Ryder could have anyone he wanted, and the girl at the bar wanted to make Jenny understand that any hold she had on him was tenuous at best.
But that was minor compared to the shock of hearing him call her Jenny. She’d always been Ms. Parker, or plain Parker, and to hear him call her by her first name was oddly unsettling.
Ryder had passed a photograph of Soledad across the bar, and Jenny wondered where he’d gotten it. Then she mentally kicked herself. There had been cameras all over the house in the Garden District—they would have had a dozen photographs.
The young woman glanced down at the photo, then back up at Ryder. “I have never seen her before.” She glanced at Jenny. “They do not look much alike, do they?”
“She was adopted,” Ryder said easily. “Are you certain you haven’t see her?”
“I am afraid not. Is there any other way I can help you?”
“You can tell me where we might find a place to stay for the night. We’ve been driving all day and I’m bone tired, and my woman doesn’t drive on roads like these.”
His woman felt like snarling. She’d driven through rain forests in Costa Rica and mud season in Vermont—these roads were a piece of cake compared to those.
“Then she is lucky to have a big strong man to take care of her,” the girl purred.
Oh, gag me with a spoon, Jenny thought.
“I’m afraid there are no rooms here, and this is a very poor village. The nearest town would be thirty miles to the south, but you came that way.”
Of course she’d been watching, Jenny thought. She would have seen not only the gun but also the hostile dynamic between the two of them.
She’d had enough of being silent. “We’re not fussy,” she spoke up, and she felt Ryder’s start of surprise and disapproval. “We just need a bed for the night, and we’ll leave first thing in the morning. Even a single bed will do—we like to cuddle.”
Ryder coughed, but the girl behind the counter didn’t notice. “There is no place,” she said. And then her forehead wrinkled. “Unless . . .”
“Unless what?” Jenny said.
“Are you afraid of ghosts?”
Jenny just looked at her, and the girl shrugged. “Maybe they won’t bother you. There is an old convent on the edge of town. Missionaries used to live there, teach the local children, take care of the sick. The jungle is starting to take over by now, but various travelers have stayed there with no problem.”