Catch Me in Castile Read online

  “No,” Maria said.

  “She means yes.” I smiled. “Preferably hot and dangerously, mind-melding strong.”

  “Since when do I drink coffee?” She frowned at me.

  “You may be able to survive mornings without caffeine, but I can’t.”

  “Aya, you remind me of my brother. He’s a coffee fiend too.”

  “Sounds like my kind of guy.”

  “Not really. He’s a nice guy.”

  “Ouch!” I pressed my hands to my heart. “I admit I don’t have much experience with that sort of male, but I could learn to do nice.”

  “Excuse me?” She lifted her brow. “You’re not doing this one. You haven’t even met him yet.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  She rolled her shoulder into mine. “Kidding. I hope you two do hit it off. You could both use a little…distraction.”

  “Uh-hmm,” the flight attendant interrupted. “How about I get you your own cup?”

  “Yes, do. And don’t forget hers.” I grinned.

  The flight attendant poured both cups and handed them to me with a constipated smile. “You know I can refill these?”

  “Good, maybe when you come back around. Thanks.”

  Maria shook her head at me. “She’s going to spit in the next cup.”

  “Ewww.” Silently, I sipped the hot elixir and slowly came alive, one nerve ending at a time. With closed eyes, I thought, Saint Starbuck, you deserve a special seat in heaven.

  “You were too good for him, you know,” Maria softly interrupted my near-orgasmic caffeine experience.

  “Hmm?” Opening my eyes, I was surprised to see her leaning in, focusing intently on my face.

  “Jack didn’t deserve you. And you should do nice next time around.”

  Unwanted memories flooded my thoughts. The last image of Jack’s handsome face swam into view. Slightly blurred by bitter, angry tears, it was lodged in my brain like a photo I had no business keeping.

  The truth was, there was no tomorrow with Jack. Only now and maybe ten minutes from now. We’d been sinking in a kind of relationship quicksand where people don’t move forward, or backward. They just sink. I crumpled the mental photo into a ball and tossed it back into the past.

  “You know how they say hindsight is 20/20? Why does foresight have to be so darned blind?” I smiled weakly. “He offered to write a glowing letter of recommendation.”

  “Really? Which of your attributes was he going to recommend?”

  I lifted my cup. “Head of shit.”

  “Forget him.” She lifted “our” coffee cup and carefully clinked it with the one in my hand. “We’ll have a blast in Salamanca. Focus on that.”

  Focus was one of Dr. Stapleton’s buzzwords. The sound of it caught me off guard. “Should I find a hotel? I’d hate to impose on your family.”

  “Stop saying that. Are we, or are we not, friends?”

  “The best.” I smiled at the serious lines forming between her eyes.

  “You’ll be safe at my house. I promise.”

  Safe? “Is Salamanca crime-riddled?”

  Her beautifully manicured fingers clutched the crucifix hanging around her neck. “I’m just saying sometimes people need a little looking after. I’m here for you. That’s all.”

  My eyes watered. “You’re wonderful.”

  “Yes, I am. Now, why don’t you rest? You look dead tired.”

  I gave her a dirty look. “And you need to work on your flattery skills.”

  She shrugged. “It’s the truth, Erin. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

  That was the truth, but I wasn’t going to admit it. “Okay Esteem-Builder. I’ll rest.” I kicked off my shoes, pulled my knees up and fluffed the little blue pillow as best as I could. Then I made the mistake of closing my eyes.

  Dangling like a dried-up leaf, I hang onto the tower’s window ledge by a single limb—my own bloody arm. None of my twenty-nine years flash before my eyes. What I see, hear and feel is spine-clawing fear. It tastes like acid on my tongue.

  A gust of wind plasters me against the medieval tower. The rough sandstone scrapes my skin. My eyes begin to focus well enough to see the cream-colored castle with sharp spires and a blue-tiled roof. The window above me is big and as dark as a screaming mouth. The landscape is black beneath my bare feet. I can barely make out the rocks below the ledge I cling to for dear life. Jagged and sharp as a blade, those rocks can peel a person’s skin like a grape. They are about to peel me.

  I scream for help. Over and over. It will never come. No one will catch me.

  Another gust shoves me against the tower, slashing fresh cuts. I cry out, but the scratches are the least of my injuries.

  I’m dizzy and seeing flashes of lights. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind. Focus. Losing consciousness is not an option. What is that smell? The pungent odor filling my nostrils turns my stomach. I open my mouth, trying not to breathe through my nose.

  Blood.

  My blood is everywhere. It runs like a spilled bucket of water down the sandstone. I blink it out of my eyes. Warm and sticky, it drips through the cracks in my fingers, making them slicker by the second. I tighten my grip. It’s no good. Nothing I do is ever any good.

  I…am…slipping.

  I scream, with every ounce of life left in me. And my fingers lose contact with the ledge.

  “Hey.” Maria nudged me. “You were crying out in your sleep.”

  The castle, the rocks, all gone. I was on the plane looking into Maria’s horrified face. I wiped the drool off my cheek. “Sorry.”

  “Damn that Jack! He’s not worth losing sleep over. We need to find you a man who sees how special you really are, as a person, not just the best moneymaker in the place.”

  She sounded like a shrink. It warmed my heart. “You think I’m special?”

  “You need a real man who worships you. Goddess status.”

  “What if—?” I blinked, swallowed hard. “What if I never find anyone like that?”

  “You found a toad, why can’t you find a prince?”

  “Because the pond’s crawling with toads?”

  “Doesn’t mean he’s not out there.” She wagged a finger at me.

  Feeling better, I forced the dream down deep where I shoved all my horrors. The nightmares and the panic never stayed put in the recesses of my thoughts. They crouched, biding their time to strike when I was the most vulnerable. My worst nightmare was that one day they’d take over completely and I’d become as crazy as the rest of my relatives.

  I shrugged off the heaviness settling between my shoulder blades. Terror wouldn’t get me today. “I don’t want to think about men. Tell me more about Spain. What happens after we land? Do we need to rent a car?”

  “My brother’s sending a car for us.”

  “The coffee fiend.”

  “Most respected doctor in the city. Too many awards to count.”

  “You must be very proud of him.”

  Her voice was soft. “After my father died, my brother took care of us. Mama was…distraught. There wasn’t much money. A trust, yes, but we couldn’t touch it until we became of age. My brother went to medical school and started his practice. Later, he sent me to school in the U.S. without touching my portion of the trust. Proud? There are no words.”

  “Sounds like an amazing guy.”

  “He is, but you’ll probably find him a bit guarded.”

  No one did “guarded” better than I. “Does he need to be?” I asked.

  “A handsome, big-hearted doctor? He’s a magnet for every lowlife female crawling the earth.”

  “Ah. He’s not married.”

  “Engaged once.” She blew through her lips in disgust. “A train wreck. I warned him about her. But you know men, they all have a basic need to be taken care of, even if the woman, the situation, everything is all wrong.”

  I wondered about her theory. Did every man need a woman? Jack sure didn’t need me. Much. He liked having
me around for the fun times, but emotional need? No, Jack’s need was not about me, or the organ he called his heart.

  “That story doesn’t have the happy-ever-after ring to it.”

  “She left him for another guy, maybe three whole days before the wedding. My brother was devastated.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Past history. Good riddance.” Her chin lifted. “Now it’s little sister’s chance to take care of him for a while. I’m dying to get home.”

  Butterflies of excitement tickled my insides, loosening the knot of dread lodged in my chest. I couldn’t wait to get to Spain either. Forget about men, I thirsted for life. With any luck, I could outrun the misadventures of Erin Carter and start over fresh. I wouldn’t screw it up this time.

  I’m going to get a life, I promised myself. Even if it kills me.

  dc

  With twenty minutes to landing in Salamanca, I searched frantically for my hairbrush, which proved to do more harm than good.

  “Ah jeez, look at my hair.” My sandy-blond strands crackled and popped.

  “Got a little electricity there?”

  “Enough to power up a small city. Why does yours always look good?” I flipped my finger through her dark curls.

  “Genes. You should have seen my mother’s hair when she was young. Hey, speaking of jeans, you have a big stain on yours.” She pointed to the burnished spot on the crotch of my pants.

  “Coffee, courtesy of the Seat Bumper.” I thumbed over my shoulder. “I swear if he kicks my chair one more time…”

  She stole a peek at the guy behind me through the crack between our seats. “I don’t know Erin, he’s kind of burly, but if you think you can take him.”

  I grunted. “Thank God I don’t know anyone in Salamanca.”

  Maria cleared her throat. “It’s kind of a tradition…” She saw the murderous look I gave her. “Okay, a few people will be there to welcome me home. Friends, family, teachers, priest, neighbors. That sort of thing.”

  “What?”

  “Relax. You look fine.”

  I opened my compact and was horrified at what peered back at me in the mirror. “You call this fine? No makeup. Hair gone badly wrong. Dark circles. Stained, wrinkled clothes—”

  “The bruises are gone. And your lip looks better without the stitches, not so Bride of Frankenstein anymore. See? I’m working on that compliment thing.”

  “That’s it. I’m not leaving this plane.”

  Maria turned a deaf ear to my protests. The instant we landed she jumped out of her seat. “Don’t lag, Erin,” she called, dragging me along with her carry-on luggage down the corridor toward the customs and baggage-claim areas.

  I scrambled to keep up with her. A mass of humanity the size of Delaware was smashed in and around the gate outside the customs area, squealing her name. I had the odd sensation something bad was about to happen. Too late I reached for Maria’s arm. I was unable to latch onto her before she was snatched away into a sea of cheek-kissers. Strange bodies pressed against me, sucking the oxygen out of the air with their foreign words. Ah, but then I saw him.

  Whoa! My mind sighed. Who is that?

  Easily the tallest in the crowd, a gorgeous hunk stood apart, as if the press of hot bodies pushing and shoving didn’t concern him. His long fingers ran through neatly trimmed dark hair.

  My breath caught when his stunning green eyes locked onto mine. The expression in those eyes was intense—a broody mixture of regality or renegade. His jet-black eyebrows unfurrowed and a light flickered across his face.

  Ooh-la-la.

  I fluffed my hair and tucked the bit of T-shirt that had popped out back into my jeans. Nothing could be done about the coffee stains.

  The moment was ruined when a security guard tapped the Spanish god on the shoulder and both turned to look at me.

  Uh-oh. Was I in trouble? Could it be a crime in Spain to stare at an unbelievably handsome man?

  Then it hit me like a car crash. I’d seen enough cop shows to know I was busted. The investigation of the accident was completed and an APB put out for my arrest. Spanish Security was coming to pick up the American wanted for attempted vehicular manslaughter. I’d be handcuffed and sent on the next flight home. They’d put me in the loony bin next to my nutty Aunt Lulu who ate her husband’s socks. Oh dear Lord, my life was over.

  I had to do something. Quickly. I didn’t want life to be over, I had barely accomplished Step 1: Go to Spain. But what could I do? Both men were staring at me over the sea of people. The panic attack was a tornado building behind my eyeballs. I itched to shove my way through the crowd.

  For the love of God, get me out of here.

  A short exchange took place between the two men. It was my chance to escape.

  Hunching down, I gathered my luggage and pushed toward the exit, keeping an eye out for Maria as I went. I had no plan other than to get away. I couldn’t go back to the States and face the music. I’d almost made it to the door when—

  “Oof! Excuse me. Oh.”

  I had smashed into the chest of the Spanish god. Startled as a possum on a highway, I gazed up at his green headlights. When he gave me the head-to-toe once-over I knew I was in big trouble. Yep, he was obviously an undercover cop. I was caught.

  “Ms. Carter. Please come with me.” He reached out and tried to take one of my suitcases out of my hand.

  “Hey! Let go. I’m not going anywhere with you, buddy. Show me the warrant.” I sounded braver than I felt.

  He released the suitcase. “Warrant?”

  “Or whatever you call it here.” I flipped the hair out of my eyes. “And identification. Pronto, mister.”

  “My apologies. I assumed you knew who I am.” He took a step back and extended his hand. “I’m Santiago. Come with me to the car.”

  “I’m not going downtown in your paddy wagon, bud. Forget about it.”

  “Wagon?” His face registered confusion. “I believe it’s a Buick.”

  “Oh sweet Lord.” The blood in my face dropped to my feet.

  “See?” He pointed out the glass window toward a beige car with an Auto Servicio sticker in the window. Car Service?

  “You’re not—?” The security guard had melted into the crowd. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

  “Santiago. You need a car, right?”

  Oh. The driver, I kicked myself for letting my imagination get the best of me. I took his hand in mine and shook. Warm, firm grip. Nice. Very… “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry, I thought… Um, yes, my friend and I need a car.” I started to breathe again.

  “Is this all?” He pointed at my luggage.

  “It’s more than enough. Don’t you think?” Not sure what to bring, I had grossly over-packed. Ruffling through my Brighton wallet, I pulled out some bills to tip the poor guy.

  “Erin, there you are—Santiago!” To my utter surprise, Maria flung her arms around the driver’s neck. “This is my friend, Erin Carter.”

  “Yes. We’ve met,” he said.

  Another man walked up to us and Santiago handed him my bags. “The driver will take you home. I will see you later.” With a curt nod, he strode back through the crowd.

  How many drivers did we need? The tip money was still wadded up in my hand, but Santiago was gone.

  “All of these.” Maria showed driver number two our bags.

  A weird foreboding washed over me. My skin prickled, tingling into my scalp like I was a B-actress in a horror flick waiting for evil to creep up behind her. It was ridiculous. My nervous system was still flooded with adrenaline after the security guard incident. I had to get a hold of myself.

  A cry wailed in my ear and something poked my shoulder. I yelped and spun around. A tiny lady with vacant blue eyes lifted a covered object, ready to poke me with it again.

  Evil? If so, I’d just been tagged.

  Chapter Three

  I let out the air I’d been holding and silently thanked God I hadn’t used my self-defense moves on the p
oor old woman. What was wrong with me?

  “No thanks, I’m not buying,” I said in a trembling voice and turned away. My body still quaked.

  She shoved the object under my nose.

  “No thank you, really.”

  Her head shook fiercely. Silver strands of hair escaped from her tight bun, sticking out like electrified wires. There was something about her eyes—eerie, haunted, dead? She wasn’t dirty, but had the shutdown look of someone in the shadows of an overpass curled up in a cardboard box. That look hit pretty close to home. I suddenly wanted to hug the poor thing and call her auntie.

  “So, what is it you have there?” I asked. “A doll? Muñeca?” Her head bobbed up and down. “Sure, I’ll take a peek at your, um, baby.” I put my bag down, mesmerized by the great production she made of unfolding the dingy pink blanket. Slowly one side folded down, and then another, until the treasure was revealed. And what a sight it was.

  Grisly is the best way to describe her doll. Both eyes had been poked out, the hair had been hacked off with some weapon, decidedly not scissors, the nose was missing and the tiny rosebud of a mouth had been opened to a forevermore gaping O. Even its cry sounded deranged, as if the voice box had been repeatedly run over by a baby’s stroller.

  Taken aback, I reacted. I’m not sure what my reaction was, maybe my hand flew to my mouth, or I gasped, or both. Whatever I did, it was wrong.

  Her eyes lit with fury. She raised the mutilated doll and whacked me over the head with it.

  “Hey, stop that!” I rubbed my head.

  She hugged the battered doll to her chest, glaring at me as if I had been the one to attack her. The doll’s distorted cries sounded like hiccups when she rocked it back and forth.

  “Okay. Moving on.” I picked up my bags.

  I didn’t get far before she smashed her body against mine. It was like being belly-bumped in the back by a tiny Suma-wrestler. If there weren’t so many people around us, I would surely have crashed to the floor alongside the bag that flew out of my hands.

  “Lo siento, sorry,” I said as total strangers helped right me again. I couldn’t shake the grunting, belly-bumping woman with the hideous doll tucked under one arm. I was completely dumbstruck.