to scout out the town, she’d weigh her options, make her choices, and move.
The entire village appeared to be deserted except for the cantina. The music was growing louder and more boisterous.
Eventually she was able to maneuver herself between two buildings and look out onto the mainroad that ran in front of the local bar. From the laughter and good cheer, one would never guess the country was in chaos.
As Letty suspected, six or seven jeeps and a variety of dilapidated American cars thirty years or older were parked in front of the bar. Thus far they were the only vehicles she’d seen.
The people inside didn’t seem to have a care in the world. The doors were wide open, and tables spilled into the streets. A number of women paraded around in tight-fitting skirts and low, elastic-style blouses. Some delivered drinks, others brazenly touted their wares and openly invited attention.
Out of the corner of her eye, Letty watched as a soldier grabbed a woman’s waist and dragged her onto his lap. The young waitress squealed with delight before he slammed his mouth over hers. Soon the two were all over one another. The woman squirmed in the soldier’s lap and straddled his hips. Panting, she threw back her head, and he buried his face in her ample bosom. His hands cupped her full breasts as he licked and sucked at her neck.
Letty was mesmerized, unable to make herself look away. The two were all but making love in full view of the entire cantina. Letty’s mouth felt dry, and she couldn’t understand why she found such a blatant display of sexual activity so fascinating.
All at once it came to her.
That wasn’t a soldier with the waitress. It was Murphy.
The shock was enough to make Letty’s knees go out on her. With her back against the building, she slid to the ground until her buttocks landed in the hard dirt.
Murphy. The dirty son of a bastard had left her to wait in the hot sun for hours on end while he was making love to a…a floozy.
Rarely had Letty been more furious. All this time she’d fretted and stewed, certain he’d been captured or worse. The afternoon had been hell, worrying about him.
She’d risked her life in an effort to find out what had happened to him. Anything might have befallen her as she’d made her way into the village. Not that Murphy would have cared. He’d have been grateful to have her out from under his hair.
She’d made a drastic mistake trusting Murphy. The man had no morals. No decency. She hoped he died a slow, painful death. She relished the thought of him suffering.
Her anger was enough to motivate her into action. Whereas before she’d been almost afraid to breathe for fear of discovery, now she moved freely from one building to the next, being sure to remain in the shadows. She was careful, very careful, but not stupid.
Still uncertain about the odds of successfully stealing a jeep, she made her way to the far side of town, thinking that she’d hide in the church until the wee hours of the morning. By then the soldiers would be too drunk to realize what she was doing.
As she neared the church, she heard the soft, almost soundless approach of someone behind her. Her blood ran cold. Fear was an amazing thing, she realized. Never had her thought processes been more clear.
She waited until he was almost upon her beforewhirling around, thinking she would startle her stalker.
To her shock Murphy stood almost directly behind her.
“Murphy?” She nearly shouted his name in her surprise.
He clamped his hand over her mouth and shoved her against the side of the church. “Just what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
One aspect of soldiering Murphy had learned early in his career was that emotion was as much an enemy as a gun-toting revolutionary. Murphy went into a mission with no feelings, did what he was paid to do, and got the hell out in the most expedient manner possible. In all his years with Deliverance Company, he’d lived by those
The entire village appeared to be deserted except for the cantina. The music was growing louder and more boisterous.
Eventually she was able to maneuver herself between two buildings and look out onto the mainroad that ran in front of the local bar. From the laughter and good cheer, one would never guess the country was in chaos.
As Letty suspected, six or seven jeeps and a variety of dilapidated American cars thirty years or older were parked in front of the bar. Thus far they were the only vehicles she’d seen.
The people inside didn’t seem to have a care in the world. The doors were wide open, and tables spilled into the streets. A number of women paraded around in tight-fitting skirts and low, elastic-style blouses. Some delivered drinks, others brazenly touted their wares and openly invited attention.
Out of the corner of her eye, Letty watched as a soldier grabbed a woman’s waist and dragged her onto his lap. The young waitress squealed with delight before he slammed his mouth over hers. Soon the two were all over one another. The woman squirmed in the soldier’s lap and straddled his hips. Panting, she threw back her head, and he buried his face in her ample bosom. His hands cupped her full breasts as he licked and sucked at her neck.
Letty was mesmerized, unable to make herself look away. The two were all but making love in full view of the entire cantina. Letty’s mouth felt dry, and she couldn’t understand why she found such a blatant display of sexual activity so fascinating.
All at once it came to her.
That wasn’t a soldier with the waitress. It was Murphy.
The shock was enough to make Letty’s knees go out on her. With her back against the building, she slid to the ground until her buttocks landed in the hard dirt.
Murphy. The dirty son of a bastard had left her to wait in the hot sun for hours on end while he was making love to a…a floozy.
Rarely had Letty been more furious. All this time she’d fretted and stewed, certain he’d been captured or worse. The afternoon had been hell, worrying about him.
She’d risked her life in an effort to find out what had happened to him. Anything might have befallen her as she’d made her way into the village. Not that Murphy would have cared. He’d have been grateful to have her out from under his hair.
She’d made a drastic mistake trusting Murphy. The man had no morals. No decency. She hoped he died a slow, painful death. She relished the thought of him suffering.
Her anger was enough to motivate her into action. Whereas before she’d been almost afraid to breathe for fear of discovery, now she moved freely from one building to the next, being sure to remain in the shadows. She was careful, very careful, but not stupid.
Still uncertain about the odds of successfully stealing a jeep, she made her way to the far side of town, thinking that she’d hide in the church until the wee hours of the morning. By then the soldiers would be too drunk to realize what she was doing.
As she neared the church, she heard the soft, almost soundless approach of someone behind her. Her blood ran cold. Fear was an amazing thing, she realized. Never had her thought processes been more clear.
She waited until he was almost upon her beforewhirling around, thinking she would startle her stalker.
To her shock Murphy stood almost directly behind her.
“Murphy?” She nearly shouted his name in her surprise.
He clamped his hand over her mouth and shoved her against the side of the church. “Just what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
One aspect of soldiering Murphy had learned early in his career was that emotion was as much an enemy as a gun-toting revolutionary. Murphy went into a mission with no feelings, did what he was paid to do, and got the hell out in the most expedient manner possible. In all his years with Deliverance Company, he’d lived by those
Similar Books
