Kimber Chin

Read Part One Here

“You two know each other?” The short man, Gomez, spluttered.

Eduardo turned to her. “You are?” He sandwiched her hand between his two much larger ones.

“Stacy Walker.” There was no harm telling him her real name.

“Stacy, I am Eduardo del Popolo Vicente Rodriguez Garcia.” He kissed her knuckles. She felt the impact straight down to her toes.

“Like Manuel, the Spanish tenor?” This man was a tenor too, she heard it in his voice.

Eduardo’s jaw dropped. “You appreciate music?”

She loved music. So much she made it one of her majors. That specialty, combined with Daniel’s influence, landed her a trial term at an exclusive private school this fall. Daniel had been so proud, his response swaying her decision.

“Yes, Gomez, we know each other,” the big man decided.

“I see.” Gomez moved forward in the bus , leaving her backpack on the seat. The rest of his men followed.

“I thought you would.” There was humor in her new protector’s voice as he watched Gomez talk to the driver. “They,” he whispered into Stacy’s ear, causing her to shiver, “are bad men.”

“And you are?” she whispered back.

He chuckled. “A very bad man.”

He wasn’t lying, she knew that, but she smiled anyway. “Are you related to Manuel?” she whispered again.

“No but the name suits me, doesn’t it?” Then he started to sing along with the radio, his voice strong and pure.

She listened, turning to stare out the dirty window. For the first time in months, Stacy felt content. This felt right, being on this bus, Eduardo beside her, the passing jungle a whirl of green, the bus speeding up. Belize. Would she found what she was searching for there? She touched the hidden ring and closed her eyes.

$

The bus lurched to a stop, throwing them forward, Eduardo’s arm securing his Stacy, the movement waking her. Shots rang out. Shit. Ambush. Not by Gomez’s men. There was outrage on the gang leader’s face. Someone else.

“W…w…what?” She blinked those big gray eyes.

Trusting gray eyes.

He had to get her out of here. “Come.” He flung her to the floor, covering her as the next round of shots bit into the bus. The backpack. He grabbed it, it weighed nothing, and slung it over one shoulder. They crawled along the aisle, Eduardo in the lead, Stacy following wordlessly. Eduardo heard a whimper as they moved over a dead man, his body bloody and warm. Gomez’s men were positioned at the sliding door, the only real exit.

Not that many men. Eduardo shot two attackers, creating a break in the coverage. He reached back, grabbed Stacy’s hand, and ran into the jungle.

They ran until the gunshots faded, Eduardo moving so quickly that at times he suspended Stacy by her arm. Her breathing was ragged and as soon as they were out of range, he stopped.

“You are safe.” He moved his hands over her, reassuring himself. Her face was red, her golden hair stuck with moisture to her head, her magnificent chest was heaving, but she was well. “Rest here.” He dusted off a rock with his palm.

“Those… they…,” She sat, so prim and proper on the rock, legs pressed together, back straight, like she was about to have tea with the Queen. “Who?” she asked in English.

“More bad men,” he replied in the same language. Her Spanish was formal and stiff but her English, her English settled around his gut like a fresh cup of java.

“The old lady?”

She had been shot at. She was in the middle of the jungle. Yet she asked about the old woman? “She got off an hour ago. She was not your friend. She was friends with the bad men.”

Read Part 4 July 28