The Mule: An Erotic Romance in Colombia Page 11

  Cleo’s thoughts were interrupted by Connor handing her an empanada. Cleo looked at him meditatively as she munched her way through the deliciously flaky pastry to the spiced centre. She wanted to be with Juan because he was the love of her life but being with Connor was better than jail. A lot better than jail. He’d saved her life and she’d always be grateful for that. And she was going to kick the coke too.

  Connor was pretending to look around the crowd in the square but he was quietly watching Cleo from the corner of his eye. She was clearly deep in thought. It was unusual to see her pensive. This was his fault. He’d treated her abysmally. He’d frightened her and then abused her. He deserved to be flogged.

  In the square, people were beginning to dance. Cleo looked up and smiled at him. He wondered how she could do that. She should have hated him but there she was, forgiving him without a second thought. Cleo had a generous heart. She really was the gentlest girl he’d ever met.

  He could also see her foot tapping to the music. Connor got to his feet. “Come on, let’s salsa.”

  To Cleo’s delight, Connor danced fluidly, stepping lightly. She found herself mirroring his moves instinctively, laughing when he dipped her competently, almost bending her until her head touched the ground before swinging her upright again. He was also the only man she’d ever met with the stamina to dance for an hour without stopping.

  It must be all that digging, she thought. Her own energy levels were coming back too but at the end of the hour, Cleo was ready for a break. She gulped down a bottle of water, ate another empanada, sat for fifteen minutes and was ready to go again.

  “Dance with Javier,” Connor said. “I’ve promised to dance with his sisters.”

  After she’d danced with Javier, two of his brothers, and several cousins, Connor tapped her on the shoulder, smiling at her as he claimed her for another dance. “Enjoying yourself, love?”

  “Yes!”

  It was fun to be out with Connor, Cleo decided. He was really easy going. Not at all jealous or difficult like Juan. Hastily, she banished the thought. Connor wasn’t jealous because he didn’t love her. He had taken her out because he felt guilty. There really was no comparison.

  Twenty minutes later, seeing her begin to pant, Connor walked her back to the table and sat her down.

  “Don’t you ever get tired?” Cleo asked him as she downed another bottle of water.

  “I sat out a few dances,” he confessed. “I like to pace myself.”

  “I know,” Cleo said without thinking. “It makes bed really good.”

  Connor laughed.

  “Que tal, Connor,” a tall man in military garb stood by the table.

  “Luis.”

  Connor’s tone was even but Cleo knew immediately that he was a bit tense. She wondered who Luis was and how he knew Connor.

  Luis stood looking at Cleo. “Muy linda!” He announced.

  Connor grinned. “Yes, she’s pretty and she’s mine so bugger off Luis.”

  Luis laughed and sat down. “I was on my way to the house. Stopped when I saw your car. Good to see you out and about again.”

  Connor shrugged. “Have a drink.”

  Luis took a glass of wine, sipped it and frowned. “What is this terrible stuff?” he asked in disgust. He put the glass down decisively. “It doesn’t matter. Can we talk?”

  Connor sighed. “Luis, you know how it is.” Then, realising that Cleo was trying to listen in, he paused. “Wait a minute.” Connor pulled Cleo to her feet and walked her to the next table. “Dance with my friend, Angel.”

  Several dances later, Cleo got back to find Connor and Luis were still talking. They were chatting in English, probably to be private. Nobody in the village seemed to speak English. She hung back and eavesdropped unashamedly.

  “I’d take the position on the condo across the square. It’s 1500 meters so you’d need a Cal 408 but it’s a straight shot,” Connor was saying quietly. “The other position is 800 meters closer but you’d have to take it through the alley and that means dealing with crosswinds. It’s not worth the risk.”

  “Are you sure you can’t do it?” Luis asked. “I don’t have anyone that good to deal with the extra distance.”

  “Not a hope.”

  “I’ve got a good budget,” Luis said.

  “Luis, it took a second shot last time. I’ve retired.”

  Luis sighed. “Pity. You were my best asset.”

  “There are others.”

  “Sure. But they’re not as good as you.” He got up and shook hands with Connor. “I was worried,” he said obscurely, “but I can see it’s all worked out for the best.”

  “Hmmm,” Connor said noncommittally. Luis had been appalled when he’d called in his favours and asked for Cleo to be released into his custody.

  “It’s slavery!” Luis had spluttered.

  “Not if she agrees,” Connor had replied.

  Luis had given in but he’d been unhappy about it. And remembering how he’d behaved to the girl earlier today, Connor thought Luis had been right. But confession didn’t come easily. He kept silent.

  Unaware of the thoughts behind Connor’s still face, Luis grinned at him. “Keep in touch, ok?”

  Cleo moved forward, pretending she’d just returned but Connor wasn’t fooled. The second Luis walked off, Connor was prepared for her questions. He wasn’t disappointed either. Cleo’s enquiring mind was running full throttle.

  “Is he in the army?” she asked.

  “Mind your own business, Cleo.” His tone was even but Cleo instantly hushed. Connor looked at her and sighed. It had been instinct to shut her up but thinking it over, it didn’t matter anymore. Since he’d killed those muggers, gossip had run wild. Everyone in the village had noted Luis coming to visit him too. His past was practically an open secret. “Luis heads the local secret service. I worked for him as an assassin for a while.”

  Cleo looked at him with fascination. “Wow! When? Here? Like Jason Bourne?”

  He smiled slightly at her naive enthusiasm. “It’s the past, Cleo. I’ve retired.”

  “Is that how you got me out?”

  “Let’s say that it helped.”

  “Did you really kill two muggers?” Cleo asked.

  “Hmmm.”

  “Did you get into trouble for it?”

  “No. They were armed, and I wasn’t. And there were witnesses.”

  “They were armed?” Cleo squeaked. She was fascinated.

  “Cleo, I was trained to kill people,” Connor said quietly. “I acted out of instinct. And it’s not something I’m proud of.”

  “But they started it. And they were muggers.”

  “They were young. Barely out of their teens. And they had families. People who loved them.”

  Cleo had never seen him this chatty or open about his feelings. She was determined to take full advantage. “Why do you live here rather than in England? Are you on the run?”

  “Of course I’m not on the run,” Connor laughed. “All my work has been legit. I live here because I like the climate, the food and the people.” He didn’t want to say he could no longer face living in England. Not after what he’d done.

  “Do you miss home?”

  “After joining up, I spent all my time abroad. I went back for a short while but I prefer it here.” It wasn’t the whole truth but he didn’t want to mention Jenny.

  “Do you still see your army friends?”

  “Yes. In fact, two are visiting us next week.”

  “Oh.” Cleo looked at him sideways, suddenly worried.

  He knew instantly what was going through her mind. “They arrange for their own entertainment.”

  “Oh.” She breathed again.

  “Cleo, do you really think I’d ask you to sleep with my friends?” Connor asked somewhat exasperated.

  “I guess not,” she said slowly.

  Connor couldn’t believe it. “For God’s sake, Cleo! Is it because of what happened today?”

  “Wha
t?” It took her a moment to understand. “Oh no!” She saw he was truly horrified and struggled for an answer. “I don’t care about that. I didn’t come but it’s not a big deal.”

  Connor was tempted to tell her it did matter, that she deserved better, that nobody had a right to treat her so badly, but the cowardly voice inside him was too grateful that Cleo genuinely didn’t seem bothered. “What then?”

  “I’m not a mind reader, Connor. You said no limits, and, well...” Cleo faltered.

  “But you have set limits, I don’t do anything you don’t like and you enjoy yourself, don’t you?” he countered.

  “God yes! It’s the best sex I’ve ever had!”

  “So why would you think I would prostitute you?”

  Cleo shrugged helplessly. “I just expect the worst, I guess.”

  So she thought he was no different from Garcia Riviera, Carlos Santiago and all the others. The knowledge hurt. “Well, try to give me the benefit of the doubt from now on!”

  Although Connor masked his feelings, Cleo now knew him well enough to see he was upset. It surprised her. Somehow she hadn’t expected her opinion of him to matter. Clearly it did. She hastened to reassure him. “Connor, I’m sorry. I should have known better. You wouldn’t do anything like that. It was just a crazy stupid thought.”

  He stood up, a sign he didn’t want to talk anymore. “Come and dance, Cleo.”

  An hour later, totally pooped, Cleo went off to find a bathroom. A group of girls were waiting in line. One of them looked up and smiled. “La novia de Juan Riviera,” she said.

  “Si!” Cleo said. She knew novia, it meant girlfriend. “You know Juan?”

  The girl shrugged and nodded.

  “Can you give him a message for me?” Cleo asked. She looked about for a piece of paper and a pen. “Mensaje?”

  “Juan vienne aqui!”

  Cleo frowned. “What? He is coming here?”

  The girl nodded. “Para la fiesta.”

  “Now?” Cleo asked hopefully. “Tonight? Este noche?”

  The girl shook her head. “Fiesta de San Juan. La próxima semana.”

  Next week, Cleo translated. “Gracias,” she whispered. “Gracias.”

  Now all she had to do was to get Connor to bring her to the fiesta.

  Chapter Eight

  The week passed quickly. Cleo was finally getting over her cravings. They still hit her but she was able to ride them out by going for a swim or doing her relaxation exercises. She still couldn’t get into meditation, the very idea of not paying attention to her thoughts struck her as weird, but she enjoyed the breathing and the routine of systematically relaxing her muscles.

  Best of all, she was working out again, getting back into her daily routine of sit-ups, push-ups and stretching exercises that had kept her fit for her dancing. Cleo sang as she tucked her feet underneath the veranda railing and did her morning set of 50 slow crunches. She was feeling herself again.

  She was also enjoying a different rapport with Connor. He still didn’t talk much but he encouraged her to chat. Cleo found herself talking about her relationship with her mum, telling Connor how they’d fallen out when Cleo had refused to continue at the all-girls’ school when she’d turned 17 and decided to dance for a living.

  “Mum wanted me to be something respectable, like a shop girl or call centre operator or something, but I hate that sort of work and I love dancing. It also pays a lot better. But Mum doesn’t like it. She always tells people I work in a library but I don’t think anyone believes her, I mean, it’s not like I read books, is it?”

  Cleo often found herself drifting into stories about her boyfriends, the ones before Juan. At first she’d catch herself and stop, worried Connor would be annoyed, but he merely listened. He certainly wasn’t jealous of her past, and he never commented, not even when she told him of some of the more difficult times in her life.

  “When Michael said he wanted to leave some stuff at my place because he was moving house, I said yes because he’d helped me out with the rent when I was between jobs, you know? I shouldn’t have because it turned out it was boxes of video games he’d nicked from some warehouse. The owner sent some thugs out looking for their stuff. Michael got a heads up from someone and scarpered. I was lucky that they knew I was clueless about the whole thing so I didn’t get beaten up or anything but I have to say I was shit-scared. They broke down my door, you know. Cost me a fortune to fix it.”

  Sometimes Connor did suck in his breath in a way that gave her pause for thought. Thinking over some of the things that had happened to her, Cleo realised that not all her exes had been as thoughtful as they might have been. But then again, Connor was quite special. He didn’t just make sure she was happy in bed, he was a real gent. Cleo hadn’t picked up anything heavier than a tin of beans since she’d moved in with him.

  Another plus was that she was no longer afraid of his flashes of anger. She knew he had them because she saw him seethe when one of his customers was foolish enough to make a lewd comment but Cleo knew Connor wouldn’t act on them. He just acted all cold, in this instance sending the man scuttling off in a hurry and then went off to do some digging.

  Finally, she now took Connor’s bullying for what it was: concern over her well-being. He still checked on her constantly and ordered her about, but she didn’t feel as if he were a slave driver.

  The only fly in the ointment was Connor’s compulsion to do everything that wasn’t perfect, all over again. It was infuriating but he told her bluntly that she would just have to learn to do things right first time round.

  “You’re a perfectionist,” Cleo grumbled when he pointed out two spots she’d missed while cleaning the windows.

  “That’s true. Now go back and do the job properly.”

  Cleo wanted to rebel but she was more interested in keeping him sweet. She was determined to talk him into taking her to the San Juan fiesta but she knew that if he discovered that Juan would be there, he’d refuse. She knew he hated Juan. That was one thing that hadn’t changed and she knew better than to mention him.

  On Saturday afternoon, when Cleo was mulling over the best way to approach Connor, a small red car drove up to the gate. Two tall men, both sandy haired and blue eyed, rolled out and banged a happy tattoo on the gate. “Hey, Irish! Come on, you lazy bastard, open the gate!” Connor’s friends had arrived.

  Cleo hastened to get the electric opener. The second the gate swung open; they drove in, spilled out of the car and enveloped Cleo in warm hugs.

  “Is that bugger Irish treating you alright?” one asked.

  “If he isn’t, we’ll beat him up,” the other announced.

  They looked her over critically, apparently waiting for an answer. Cleo didn’t know what to say.

  Connor appeared and put an end to her embarrassment. “Of course I take good care of her,” he said trading mock punches with them. “You’re early. I thought you were coming tomorrow.”

  “Our hotel was double booked. We called but your phone is off. Again.”

  “Sorry. I forget to charge it.”

  “Email not working?”

  “Probably but I don’t check it.”

  “Well, let us catch you up with what’s been going on.”

  They started talking nineteen to the dozen, seemingly eager to catch Connor up with months of news in minutes. Cleo was dying to listen in on their chat but Connor ordered her straight into the house to make up the bed and the sofa in her room for the two guests.

  The second she was out of sight, the two whistled appreciatively.

  “Nice girl,” Dylan said lightly.

  “Pretty too,” Ray remarked.

  “English, is she?” Dylan asked innocently.

  “I know you met Luis in town so cut it out,” Connor said coolly.

  They both grinned. “Couldn’t believe my ears,” Ray said.

  “I thought Luis was telling one of his tall stories,” Dylan said.

  “We were going to beat the
hell out of you when we first heard what you’d done but Luis set us straight,” Ray confessed.

  “Yeah, you’re a bastard but she’s better off here than in a Colombian jail,” Dylan admitted.

  “Hmmm.” Connor hoped they were right. Sometimes he knew he’d done the right thing but niggling doubts that he was just taking advantage still surfaced regularly.

  “Crazy Irish!” Ray and Dylan chorused.

  “Oh shut up.”

  They’d brought supplies from town, including newspapers. With quiet satisfaction, Connor saw a headline announcing that the Garcia Riviera brothers were under investigation for tax evasion. The paper speculated that the charges were brought because Pedro was out of jail and expected to beat the rap for possession as the evidence had mysteriously disappeared. Furious at the Garcia Riviera brothers’ arrogant boasts that they could do as they pleased, the city’s top officials were now determined to bring the brothers to book in any way possible.

  “Good,” Connor said triumphantly. Then he hid the newspaper and forbade Ray and Dylan to mention it. When Cleo came back, she sat down and listened avidly. She was determined to learn all she could about Connor from his friends.

  Dylan and Ray were nothing like she had imagined. Unlike Connor’s cool demeanour, these two laughed constantly and talked non-stop. They were also determined to get and stay cheerfully tight.

  First they worked their way through a case of beer and then began on a bottle of rum. Like Connor, they drank it straight with lime. Despite downing huge quantities of alcohol, they didn’t seem to get drunk, just more chatty and happy. Connor didn’t keep up with them but he had more than his usual two and loosened up too.

  There was a lot of military slang but Cleo could follow most of it if she concentrated. She understood that ‘beasting’ meant hard work, and she picked up on ‘pongo’ being slang for soldier, but it did seem strange to her that so many of their stories were about officers called Rupert. Maybe it was a popular name in army families.

  They were chatting about friends back home when Connor suddenly asked, “Have you seen Jenny lately?”