Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once. Dressing in drag wasn’t one of them.
As Shanghai headed toward the pair of huge steel doors set centrally in front of a high stone wall, a man driving by in a rusty, red pickup swerved closer to the curb. Pounding the side of his pickup, the man let out a shrill wolf whistle.
Feeling like punching the macho bastard in the jaw, Shanghai cringed in what he hoped would be a feminine, coy come-on. Clutching his hot-pink purse against his fake breasts and tossing his curls, he walked faster, swinging his ass.
“Ey, gringa!”
Either the ass work was passable, or the poor, thickheaded fool was half blind. Shanghai knew he was too tall and too masculine to be very sexy in drag. The pointed tips of the cheap red high heels pinched his toes so badly they’d gone numb on him. He’d chosen the loose-fitting black dress and shawl to conceal rather than reveal. Still, this hombre dug him, which just went to show that a lot of guys went for something strange.
The lipstick, foundation and rouge made Shanghai’s face and lips feel hot and greasy. The tight panty hose were so short they tugged at his balls with each mincing step. When he finally reached the doors, he rang the bell with one fingertip and waited with his other hand on a hip, just as Joanne had told him to do.
When he got through security, he signed in as Joanne. As the final guard looked him over, Shanghai held his breath. Hopefully Collins’s friend had paid off the right people and he wouldn’t be strip-searched.
“You’re going to die tonight!” Raquel was screaming at Mia through the bars, her black eyes burning with hate as Mia finger-combed her wet hair.
Mia shuddered. She was a little chilled from having just bathed herself and washed her hair under a lukewarm faucet in the kitchen.
Suddenly a guard pushed past the crazy woman, unlocked the cell door and bawled out Mia’s name.
“Kemble, you have a visitor.”
Ignoring Raquel, Mia scurried after the wide-shouldered woman. “Who?”
“A woman.”
Her mother, no doubt.
Happiness and an intense nostalgia for the ranch and her child flooded her as Mia rushed after the woman through the dusty courtyard. Five minutes later she was still smiling when she stepped into a tiny, gray-walled visitor’s room with a single video monitor hanging on the wall. Then she raced eagerly toward the figure seated at the table. Only to freeze when the woman looked up and she met his steel-blue gaze. Mia’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart knocked wildly.
Not Shanghai Knight.
Sensing her extreme reluctance toward her visitor, the guard chuckled sadistically and shoved her farther into the room. When the door slammed and Mia was locked inside with him, she backed toward the far wall. Hovering there, she twisted a strand of wet hair around her finger and then nervously tucked it behind her ear.
He stared at her, his mouth curling so insolently, she knew she must look terrible.
“Come here and sit down,” he commanded coldly. “And smile. Show your dimples. Act like you’re glad to see me. I signed in as your mother.”
“Oh, my God.” Her voice shook.
“Get a grip.” His eyes flicked to the monitors. “They may be watching.”
“I think they’re broken,” she whispered as she slowly made her way to the table.
With stiff fingers, she pulled out a metal chair and then fell heavily into the seat opposite him. For another long moment they stared at each other. His square-jawed face was leaner and harder than she remembered. His eyebrows were still as dark and rich as Texas soil. Despite his feminine attire, he seemed as ruggedly virile as ever. His skin was brown. His blue eyes were the color of cold steel. As always he seemed even bigger than he was.
“As soon as the sun goes down, be in the courtyard,” he whispered.
“But they do a count and lock us…”
“They won’t tonight. Your door will be unlocked.” His mouth curled again, this time with a mixture of cruelty and contempt.
“What are you doing here when you clearly—”
“My personal feelings about you aren’t relevant,” he said.
“You don’t even want to help me.”
“This isn’t about you or me or what you’ve done.” His deep voice held world-weary cynicism.
“I’ve done nothing.”
“Save that line for your mother. She believes your bullshit story.”
“If you hate me so much, why are you here?”
“We have a child, a little girl you never bothered to tell me about. Vanilla.” His voice softened when he said her name.
She swallowed. “I—I tried.”
“Not hard enough.” His voice was savage. Leaning toward her, he grasped her shoulders so hard, his fingers dug through the thin cotton bodice.
“You wouldn’t listen.”
“If you’d tried to tell me about Vanilla half as hard as you tried to get me in bed, I would have heard you. Then no way in hell would I have let you marry my brother!”
“Do you think I wanted to trap you?”
“I think you wanted to trap somebody.”
Suddenly his eyes were on her mouth, and just as suddenly her gaze fell to his. Unwanted heat flared inside her, and she felt the wild tremor in his hands against her damp shoulders. It didn’t matter that he wore lipstick or that hideously ridiculous wig. He was all male, and she was all female. And they both knew it.
She licked her dry lips. Even dressed as he was, his physical nearness had a devastating effect on her.
She wanted to hate him, but despite his self-righteous anger, his nearness stung her into a primitive awareness of him.
Nobody had ever made her feel half so much as he did. She’d grown up knowing he’d saved her life.
Against her will she remembered how many nights she’d dreamed of him.
She was a fool. A stupid, silly little fool.
When he finally let go of her, his mouth was bitter with self-disgust and loathing.
“This is supposed to be an official visit—generously granted to a grieving mother by the corrupt police comandante. I’m supposed to show you pictures of your little girl and my grandchild.” His drawl smoldered.
He looked so ridiculous and ill at ease in his dress and wig, she couldn’t resist a teasing insult.
“Nice outfit. Way better than mine. Can I borrow it—”
His shiny, painted lips tightened. “Don’t—say anything!”
Scowling, he opened his hot-pink purse and began to rummage. Finally he dragged out the same stack of photographs her mother had already shown her.
“I was just kidding. You look bizarre.” She bit her lips to suppress a smile. “Your shoes and purse don’t match. You—”
“Good, then maybe you won’t hit on me.”
“No chance of that,” she whispered.
“Really?” he taunted. “I spent half my life running from you.”
Her stomach lurched.
“You think I’m trash now, don’t you?”
Her directness rendered him speechless.
“I didn’t sleep with Tavio,” she whispered, frantic for him to believe her.
“I don’t care!”
“Okay. I don’t know why I bothered to defend myself—to you, of all people now.”
With shaking fingers, she sifted through the pictures he’d handed her but blushed as she grew too aware of Shanghai watching her.
She hated him for being able to compel her just by sitting across from her.
“I hate you,” she whispered in a low, seething tone. Then she instantly regretted saying anything.
“Good.”
“If it weren’t for that camera, I’d slap the hell out of you!”
“Tavio’s obviously taught you a lot of nasty tricks.” He laughed, and the sound was a rich rumble that infuriated her so much she stomped his toes under the table.
“Ouch, damn it! I’m your beloved mother!”
“Don’t you dare laugh at me!”
He smiled.
“Don’t you dare smile, either!”
“You’d better not step—”
When she kicked his shin harder than she’d stomped his foot, he grabbed her leg under the table. When she squirmed to pull free, his fingers dug painfully into her flesh, and he held on.
“I wish to hell you’d figured out how much you disliked me before you seduced me and got yourself pregnant! Because—now for better or worse—we’re stuck with each other!”
“You can leave for all I care!”
Spreading his fingers wide against her bare skin, he ran his powerful hand up her thigh. “Is that really what you want?”
When his hand lingered caressingly on the inner part of her leg, she grew warm.
His fingers inched up to her panties. “You like me touching you, don’t you?”
Unable to deny it, she went still.
Having proved his point, he grinned and then slowly removed his hand.
“I don’t ever want anything from you again,” she said.
“You want out of here, don’t you?”
He must have taken her silence to mean yes.
“You’re not calling the shots anymore, darlin’. I am. Listen because I’m only going to say this once. You have to do exactly what I say. Exactly. Your life and mine depend on it.”
The chopper hovered above the courtyard and then banked sharply. As guards in the gun towers sounded sirens and mounted rifles onto their shoulders, the chopper dropped like a bomb into the postage stamp-size courtyard, causing a dust storm that made dirt and rocks fly in all directions.
When Mia ran toward the helicopter, Chito suddenly appeared in the opposite corner of the courtyard and took aim at her. Her only chance was to keep running, so she did.
Somebody in the helicopter opened fire, and Chito jumped back behind a doorway. Guns blazed. Bullets ricocheted off the walls, pinging when they hit the chopper’s rotors.
The pilot’s eyes were enormous. She read the exact moment he decided to abort the mission.
“Shanghai! Shanghai!”
Shanghai looked down at her as she raced toward him, her arms outstretched, her eyes pleading.
They were going away! Shanghai was going away!
As the chopper began to climb, she began to scream.
“Don’t leave me, Shanghai!”
The helicopter was eight feet above the ground and spiraling upward rapidly when Shanghai jumped.
Chito fired again.
Landing beside Mia, Shanghai grabbed her by the waist and rolled with her. Chito continued firing at the chopper until it disappeared over the walls. Then he ripped his empty clip out and ran. Without giving Chito time to reload, Shanghai grabbed Mia’s hand and dragged her to her feet. Raising his gun, Shanghai ran right at Chito.
“What are you doing?” Mia yelled. “That’s Chito! Tavio’s right hand man! He’s the hitman who’s come to kill me!”
“He’s our only way out then. The bastards have a tunnel somewhere. They’re planning a break. Since your friend got in that way, he’s gotta know where it is. I can’t kill him till he shows us the way out!”
When Chito stopped, Shanghai dropped to his knees and fired twice, aiming high deliberately. “Make tracks, you little shit.”
The tunnel was airless, and Mia had to fight against her fear of suffocation. She could hear Chito’s panicked footsteps stumbling and thrashing up ahead of them as Shanghai pulled her through endless dark passages. The ceiling was so low, she bumped her head several times. The walls were so narrow she scraped herself against them again and again until she felt all wet and sticky. She fell so many times, she was sure she was going to have bruises everywhere.
As she ran, she heard little squeaking sounds at her feet. Rats? She held on to Shanghai’s hand tightly, fearing they’d find worse at the end of the tunnel.
The tunnel grew even narrower. She felt trapped and so totally claustrophobic that she wanted to scream endlessly.
Would more of Tavio’s men be waiting for them? Or would Chito lay in wait to kill them?
Miraculously when they emerged, they found themselves alone in a crumbling cardboard shack in the midst of many others that served as makeshift homes for the homeless. A plastic chair with only three legs lay toppled on its side. A child’s dusty red crocheted cap dangled from a nail. Chito was gone.
She was gulping in fresh air when she looked at her hands and saw that they were covered with blood.
Suppressing a scream, she held up her hands so Shanghai could see.
“Chito’s hit, I think. That’s probably why he cleared out,” Shanghai whispered, his breathing as hoarse as hers.
Dogs barked as Mia and Shanghai crouched in the shack gasping to catch their breath. Chickens cackled outside. People were talking in the dirt street.
Cautioning her to stay down, Shanghai held a finger up to his lips. Before she could protest his leaving her, he was on the other side of the tarp that served as the door. When she heard shouts and he didn’t come back, she began to shake uncontrollably.
Suddenly the shack’s walls seemed to close in as the tunnel’s had. It was all she could do not to run out of the shack calling for him.
Finally he stomped back inside, looking as fit and cocky as ever. Miraculously he had a bucket of water and a rag.
When she’d cleaned off the blood, he tossed her several dark pieces of cloth.
“Put those on.”
Despite his gruff tone, she stood up and touched his forearm—just to make sure he was really okay. For a long moment, her hand refused to stop shaking as she clutched him.
“I was scared you weren’t coming back.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Just dress!”
When she hesitated, he drew a quick, impatient breath. Flushing darkly, he jerked his arm away from her.
As her hands began fumbling clumsily with the fabric, she felt a flare of fresh resentment. She turned the dark-colored garments over. “What—”
“A skirt and a blouse and a shawl so you’ll blend in. I stole them off a clothesline. Damn it, hurry!”
Aware of his eyes glittering in the dark as he watched her, she stripped to her bra and panties. Trying not to think about him, she hurriedly pulled on the black skirt and blouse.
“Cover your hair,” he said, his voice harsher and raspier now.
When she’d wrapped her hair in the shawl, he grabbed her and pulled her outside.
“We’ve got to get to the river,” he muttered, still in that same furious tone that hurt her somehow.
“Shanghai—”
“Shh.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, “for jumping.”
His dark face tensed.
More than anything she longed to throw herself into his arms and feel his strength. She wanted to be cradled against his chest, to be made to feel safe. But his expression was so grim, she steeled herself and pretended she felt stronger than she did.
“Feel like a swim?” he said.
The Rio Grande River felt cold. The night was dark with a thin cover of clouds. Clutching the small inflated rubber ring Shanghai had given her, Mia swam slowly and was careful not to splash.
Swimming wasn’t easy. The tube was barely enough to support her with her heavy clothes weighing her down. Then she heard shouts—whether from the U.S. or Mexico, she wasn’t sure. She stopped swimming, readying herself for spotlights or bullets.
The shouts died, but a damp chill quickly settled in her lungs while they paused, treading water.
“Don’t stop,” Shanghai muttered. “You’re not a free woman till you’re on the other side. If the Mexicans catch you now, they’ll throw you back in prison.”
Then Tavio would send Chito again. He wouldn’t fail the next time.
Her muscles ached. Her right leg cramped so painfully, she couldn’t kick with it. When the pain became excruciating, she fought against her panic.
Swimming with one leg soon had her exhausted. Ignoring the razor-sharp cramps that practically paralyzed her entire right side, she kicked with her left leg.
She had waited sixteen months for this. She couldn’t give up.
A soft splash was followed by Shanghai’s low curse.
“Damn.”
“What?”
“I dropped my cell phone.”
She remembered him trying to make several calls earlier that had failed.
“Wouldn’t it be all wet anyway?”
“I had it in a dry pack…in case something like this happened and we had to swim and walk out. I was going to call for a ride to the Golden Spurs as soon as we made it across the river. Cole and Wolf would have come back with the chopper. I’m afraid it’s going to be just you and me till daylight, darlin’…and whatever new friends we meet out here in the dark.”
“Maybe we’ll find an American garbage truck….”
“You have to admit it would damn sure beat walking.”
Shanghai had flagged down a Mexican garbage truck after they’d left the shack and bribed the driver to take them out into the desert away from Ciudad Juarez to some remote spot where the river was narrow and shallow and easier to cross.
“The federales are looking for a gringa who escaped from El Castillo,” the driver had told them as Mia had hunkered low in her seat beside Shanghai.
Shanghai had tossed a one-hundred dollar bill on the dash. “My wife and I want to cross the river tonight. We’re homesick for our little girl.”
The driver had snatched the bill. “I have no love for the federales. They steal my best truck. They fine me many times.”
The road out of town had been narrow and dark. He had to swerve several times to avoid horses or cows in the road. As he’d driven, he’d told them unnerving stories about people murdered and women raped along the river.
“You be careful on the river, mano. Ees very dangerous place. Bad peoples there. Many bad peoples. Every day bodies float to the shore. Many people they all want one thing—to get out of Mexico, but they were murdered. You be careful on the river, mano.”
Something slithered past her under water. A snake? A body?
“Don’t stop,” Shanghai said in a terse, low tone. “Swim faster!”
Even as pain shot up her paralyzed leg, she didn’t argue. When they finally made it to the opposite bank, Mia thought she heard whispers in the high reeds. Shanghai must have heard them, too, because he pulled out his pistol. With his other hand he helped her climb through a stand of Carrizo cane and then up a muddy bluff. When they stepped into a little clearing, he pressed a finger to his lips, warning her to stay low and to be quiet, for there was no telling who might be around to attack them or rob them.
“Are you scared of the Border Patrol?”
“We wish. This is a no man’s land. You heard our chauffeur. All sorts of thugs lie in wait for whoever swims across to steal whatever little money they have.”
Mia remembered the garbage man had said most of the bodies found along the river were never identified.
“We need to head north—fast,” he said.
Shoving his pistol into his waistband, Shanghai grabbed her hand.