[Santa Olivia 02] - Saints Astray Read online

  Pilar kissed Loup’s cheek. “Thanks, baby.”

  She shook out her stinging right hand. “Sure.”

  Raimundo got to his feet, still clutching his swollen ear. “Good job, prima.”

  “He meant it to be nice in a way,” Christophe informed her. “Our fathers, they let us be a little crazy with one another. He meant it to show you are one of us, Loup.” He frowned at Raimundo and said something to him in Spanish. “But not with others, eh? Only us. Leave Pilar alone.”

  “Perdóname,” Raimundo said to Pilar. “Please?”

  She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Maybe.”

  Loup eyed her cleavage. “Pilar, that’s not helping.”

  “Too bad.”

  The band, prompted by Marcela, resumed playing a lively tune. “Please?” Raimundo repeated to Pilar. “I will not do it again, I promise.”

  She sniffed. “Okay.”

  The evening ended happily, in part because the incident was nothing unusual for most of the clan, and in part because Pilar was too good-natured to hold a grudge. Before the night was out, she’d danced with Raimundo and forgiven him.

  “You’re good for the boys,” Tía Marcela said to Loup.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “You show them they have limits, that there are things they cannot do, when so many things come so easy to them. You have worked hard for things. You will stay for a while, I hope?”

  Loup glanced at Pilar, who nodded. “For a while, yeah.”

  “Good.”

  In the bedroom, with a breeze blowing through the open window, they lolled between crisp, clean sheets.

  “You think you would have been like them, baby?” Pilar asked dreamily, stroking Loup’s body with her fingertips. “If you hadn’t grown up where you did, having to hide what you are? Kinda wild, kinda crazy?”

  Loup shook her head. “I dunno. I like them, but it’s hard to get used to.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. I like you how you are.” Pilar regarded her. “And if you hadn’t, I’d never have known you. Is that wrong?”

  “No.”

  “Hey, Loup?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Could you do what Raimundo did? Throw me over your shoulder?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Loup propped herself on one elbow. “You liked it?”

  “No!” Pilar said indignantly. “But, um… it might be kind of fun if you did it. And then you could ravage me.”

  “Ravish.”

  “That, too.”

  Loup smiled. “Okay.”

  “Oh, good.” Pilar wriggled happily. “But not tonight, okay? I’m kinda worn out.”

  “Yeah, they’re kind of exhausting.” She yawned. “Even for me.”

  “Baby, you just got out of prison a few days ago. Give yourself a break.” Pilar twirled a lock of her hair around one finger and tugged it gently. “You think you might want to stay here?”

  “I dunno. But I’m glad we’re here.”

  “Me too.”

  SEVEN

  The days that followed were idyllic.

  It was hard to get used to that, too.

  The weather was glorious, hot and sunny. On the first day, Christophe appointed himself their tour guide. He took them to the bank where Loup signed papers for an account held in her name. It was only a little over thirteen thousand pesos, but it was enough to live on for a while, especially since they were Tía Marcela’s guests for now.

  Afterward he took them to the market and assisted with the purchase of bikinis and towels, sunglasses and sunblock.

  They walked to the beach, a curving slice of white sand with a backdrop of palm trees. The ocean was shallow here, a pale turquoise. Dozens of people were lying in the sun.

  “So, um… that’s all you do?” Loup asked. “Lie there?”

  “Pretty much,” Christophe agreed. “Or swim.” He nodded at a net. “Sometimes there are volleyball games. When I was younger, the others and I would play and make all the tourists stare.”

  “And no one cares?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I have told you, it’s not illegal to be what we are. Only in America they say you’re government property. All the hotels and restaurants, they know about us, so there is always someone to explain.” He grinned. “Sometimes tourists come just to see us. One in a hundred, you know?”

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” Pilar said in alarm. She narrowed her eyes at a tall, suntanned blond woman sauntering toward the water. “Jesus, what about her, Loup? Do you think she’s prettier than me?”

  “No,” she said honestly.

  Christophe eyed Pilar. “I don’t think you have a whole lot to worry about, bonita. Anyway, we are very constant in love.”

  “You aren’t.”

  He smiled. “I told you, I’ve managed to avoid it. I move too fast for love to catch me. Put on sunblock, okay? A lot of sunblock. The sun is strong here.”

  They slathered on lotion, stretched their towels, and lay in the sun. For the first ten minutes, Loup thought it felt great. The bright warmth beating down sank deep into her, making her feel loose and lazy.

  In the next ten minutes, she got bored. “Can I have one of those?” she asked Pilar, who was perusing one of her celebrity magazines.

  “Sure, baby.”

  Ten minutes later she was still bored. “How can you read this stuff? It’s all about movies and music and TV shows we’ve never seen.”

  “It’s homework.” Pilar lowered her sunglasses and peered at her. “We need to know this stuff if we decide to be secret agent bodyguards.”

  “No, we don’t. It’s only because you want to know who’s famous.”

  “Oh, fine.”

  “The agency will have files on their clients,” Christophe said drowsily, arms behind his head. “They will have all the information you could ever wish to know, including how rich and famous they are, whether they are vegetarians, and what kind of prostitutes they like.”

  “Oh.” Pilar shrugged. “Well, I still like to know.”

  Loup got to her feet, impelled by restlessness. “I’m gonna go see if I can figure out how to swim.”

  “Don’t drown!” Christophe called after her. “We don’t float so well because our muscles weigh more than normal.”

  “Shit!” Pilar jumped up.

  “She’ll be fine.”

  She shot him a look. “Yeah, well, I’m not taking any chances.”

  Christophe laughed and rose to follow her.

  By the time he’d given them both their first swimming lesson, two figures came pelting across the sand at an inhuman speed, a trail of startled glances in their wake. Nacio and Raimundo plunged into the ocean, sending up geysers of water. They double-teamed their older cousin, dunking him and holding him underwater for a long time.

  “Hey,” Loup said mildly. “Am I gonna have to hit someone again?”

  They let Christophe up. A flailing, splashing, shouting scuffle ensued, clearing an area around them. Nacio broke away from the scuffle and approached the girls. “I promised!” he said to Pilar. “I teach you to swim. Why do you not wait?”

  She blinked. “I thought you had some fishing thing today.”

  He consulted in Spanish with Christophe, who left off wrestling with Raimundo and came over rubbing a knot on the back of his head. “They canceled it to be with you.”

  “This language thing sucks,” Pilar muttered. “Um… Christophe? Do these guys get that I’m not available?” She pointed at Loup. “That we’re together?”

  “Yes.” He grinned. “But they are hoping you will change your mind. They have not spent several days on the road with you two. Also, you are a terrible flirt.”

  Pilar flushed and gave Loup a guilty look.

  “Well, you are,” Loup said unapologetically.

  “You’re lucky you’re their cousin,” she commented.

  “True,” Christophe agreed, contemplating Loup. “You do look very good wet, prima. Wet is very
sexy for you.” He turned to Raimundo, who was addressing him in Spanish, listened, and laughed. “Sí. You want to do something fun? We did this as children, our fathers did it to us. Everyone does, but no one else throws so high and so far. We would laugh and laugh, and all the tourists would stare.”

  “What?” Pilar asked, suspicious.

  “We’ll show you,” he said. “It’s better with children or girls, though. We can’t do each other so well. Too heavy.” Christophe cupped his hands together below the water. Raimundo put one foot in his cupped hands, his hands on his cousin’s shoulders. Christophe heaved and sent him soaring overhead. He managed half a somersault before splashing into the sea.

  In the background, tourists squealed and pointed.

  “Fun,” Loup observed.

  “Yes. Very fun.” Nacio grinned and beckoned to her. “You let me?”

  “Sure.” Setting aside the voice of caution Tommy had drilled into her, she put her foot in his cupped hands, rested her hands on his shoulders. It felt strange, familiar and unfamiliar all at once. They came from different backgrounds, but they had a physicality in common. Nacio sent her soaring upward in one swift, powerful surge, confident of her impeccable balance. The blue sky rotated around her; the aquamarine sea splashed and geysered.

  “Whoa!” Loup dashed the water out of her eyes. “Very fun!”

  Nacio beckoned to Pilar. “Now you.”

  She backed away a few paces toward Loup. “Y’know, I really just want to lie on the beach and read my magazines.”

  “Just once,” he entreated her.

  “Pilar, you don’t have to let anyone throw you,” Loup said. “Go read your magazines. I won’t drown, I promise.”

  “Okay.” Pilar reached out and grabbed Loup’s bikini top, yanked her close, and kissed her with considerable thoroughness. “Get it?” she asked the cousins, who were watching open-mouthed. “Yeah, I flirt. It doesn’t mean anything. I left my whole life behind and followed a total stranger into the world’s scariest tunnel because I wanted to be with Loup. I’m not changing my mind. Okay?”

  They understood enough to nod.

  “Good.” She glanced at Loup. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Loup flashed a grin at her. “I like when you get all feisty. But the next time you stick your tongue halfway down my throat, you’re so getting ravished.”

  “Mmm.” Pilar blew her a kiss and turned for the shore.

  All four of them watched her go. Christophe muttered something under his breath. “Prima, in a tiny desert town, how did you manage to find that one?”

  “Her aunt made the orphanage take her.” Loup smiled at the memory of Pilar’s aunt dragging her up the walk. “She said her body was the Devil’s playground.”

  “Yes.” He shook himself. “Would you like me to throw you?”

  “Okay.”

  They splashed and played until a curious family of tourists came over to talk to them. Loup watched their two young boys shriek with unfettered delight as her cousins tossed them high, high into the air. It didn’t seem possible that the same sun that shone on the sparkling water and the happy tourists shone on the cracked, dusty streets of Outpost. The thought made her heart ache all over again.

  “It’s so different here,” she said to Christophe. She turned and pointed to the coastline. “Hey, I’ve seen people running along there. Can anyone do it?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said, surprised. “As much as you like. If you go far enough, there are other bays that are still natural and undeveloped. Very nice.”

  “And I can just… run? As fast as I want?”

  “Of course.”

  “Wow.” She shook her head in amazement. “The only time I got to do that at home was on the treadmill in the garage. And it used to break all the time, and Mack would have to fix it.”

  “Pobrecita. It was an awful place.”

  Loup shrugged. “Yeah, but it was home. Is it time for lunch?”

  He grinned. “Definitely.”

  They ate right there beside the beach under a thatched palapa, bare feet in the sand; fish and shrimp and lobster grilled fresh to order, hot with spices, washed down with cold beer.

  “Holy shit,” Pilar said fervently. “I know I keep saying it, but I didn’t know people could live like this.”

  “I catch and cook for you,” Nacio offered. “Even better.”

  She eyed him. “Maybe.”

  “I know, I know!” He put up his hands. “Both of you, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “You were very convincing,” Christophe assured her. “Also, if we could be afraid, I think they would be a little bit scared of our small cousin with the very big punch.” He tousled Loup’s wet hair with easy affection. “We are not entirely stupid.”

  “Good.”

  They spent the rest of the day idling at the beach and went out together at night, too, to a small nightclub near the hotel with a DJ and dancing. No salsa; only pop music, bright and sprightly.

  “Hey!” On the dance floor, Pilar lit up. “Baby, I know this song.”

  “You do?”

  “Uh-huh.” She looked smug. “It’s called ‘Hate to Be Your Next Ex-Boyfriend.’ Some English band called Kate. Very famous. Bad boys that the little girls love. I read about them.”

  Loup laughed. “Kate?”

  “It’s something from a play. Shakespeare or something. Remember Anna made us read that one about the guy and his bitchy wife?” She glanced over Loup’s shoulder. “Ooh, look. Christophe found one.”

  “One what?”

  “One in a hundred. What a fuckin’ playboy!”

  Loup turned to watch Christophe dancing with a dazed-looking young woman who couldn’t seem to stop stroking his chest. “I don’t know. I don’t think it makes him as happy as he pretends. I think he’s lonely. I guess it doesn’t work for every one in a hundred like it did for us.”

  “She’s happy, anyway. Do I look at you that way?” Pilar asked, drawing a finger down Loup’s throat. “Like someone hit me over the head?”

  “Yeah, sometimes.”

  “Oh, well.”

  “Yeah, but I look at you back the same way.”

  “True.” Pilar kissed her very deliberately.

  “Umm…”

  “Not enough?” She kissed her again. “Better?”

  “You so asked for this.” Loup stooped and caught Pilar around the knees, slung her over her shoulder.

  “Not here!” Pilar laughed helplessly. “Loup! I’m serious! I can’t breathe!” She gasped as Loup set her upright, ignoring a knot of startled, staring dancers. “You’ve gotta wait till we’re alone, baby.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Pilar smiled. “Still gonna ravage me?”

  “Yep.”

  EIGHT

  One sunlit day poured into another.

  They dined at each of the cousins’ homes, enjoying home-cooked meals and noisy hospitality. Pilar found a kindred spirit and shopping companion in Paco’s mother, Cruz. They spent hours browsing the shops in the marketplace and gossiping while Loup ran alone on the beach, reveling in her speed and freedom.

  It helped keep the empty feeling at bay.

  But she thought about home because it was home and she couldn’t help it, and she thought about the government officials warning her not to try anything foolish, which only made her frustrated and angry.

  She thought about Magnus Lindberg’s offer and the freedom he promised. She thought about his warnings, too.

  At Nacio and Raimundo’s insistence, they went fishing. To the boys’ disappointment, Loup hadn’t inherited their passion for it, and Pilar was fairly hopeless. A snorkeling excursion proved more successful, and Nacio began teaching them to scuba dive.

  Christophe had a brief, torrid affair with the girl from the nightclub, which ended when her family went home to Guatemala, taking their heartbroken daughter with them. He was quiet and withdrawn for several days.

  After deciding which were her
favorite bars in town, Pilar asked about bartending jobs. The second place gave her a tryout and offered to hire her on the spot.

  “She is pretty good,” Christophe said in surprise, watching her mix, shake, and pour with deft accuracy.

  “She likes it,” Loup said. “All the flirting.”

  Pilar promised to give them an answer by the end of the month. Loup spent a day working beside Alejandro on a construction job at a fancy hotel being restored in one of the nearby towns. She liked her quietest cousin, and the rough camaraderie of the workers reminded her of the guys training at the gym.

  “What about the work?” Pilar asked.

  She shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess.”

  “If you could do anything in the world, what would you want to do?”

  “Box,” Loup said ruefully. “But there’s not really anyone for me to fight.”

  “What about the bodyguard thing?”

  “I dunno.” She wrapped her arms around her knees. “I’m thinking about it. I don’t exactly trust that Lindberg guy, and I don’t know how I feel about being… what did he call it? A novelty. And I like it here. I like getting to know my family. But that thing Lindberg said about me maybe putting them in danger if the truth gets out… what if it’s true?”

  “Christophe was pretty sure he was bluffing,” Pilar observed.

  “Maybe,” Loup said. “Or maybe not. But the thing is, we want the truth to come out, right? That’s the only way the Outposts will ever get opened.” She glanced at Pilar. “Anyway, it just doesn’t feel right that everyone we know is stuck back in Santa Olivia while we’re lying around on a beach, eating fresh fish, and going dancing. I feel like I should be doing something more, you know?”

  Pilar smiled at her. “Yes, my little hero.”

  “But I’m not exactly sure how becoming a celebrity bodyguard changes anything,” Loup admitted. “Other than getting us fake passports.”

  “Oh, you’d probably save some famous person’s life in an amazing way, and become this big star, everyone’s hero. And then your story would be all over the place, and everyone would hear about Outpost, and the American government would have to admit everything.”