He bent over her. She could see the hand coming toward her through the shadows, holding something undoubtedly lethal. She held her breath, counted to five, and then spun around in the bed, leaping toward her attacker without another moment’s hesitation.
Ten seconds is a long time when you’re fighting for your life. It took twelve for Maggie to pin him flat on the floor, straddling him with her long legs, her knee at his vulnerable throat. She was barely breathing heavily. Unfortunately she couldn’t say the same for Pulaski.
He lay there gasping for breath. “Not that this isn’t erotic in a kinky sort of way,” he managed to gasp, “but do you suppose we could use the bed instead?”
Maggie scrambled off him immediately, her hands quickly running over him, assessing the damage. There was little, except perhaps to his pride.
But thank God Mack’s pride wasn’t of the overly macho variety. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She found her hands were shaking. Perceptive of him to have noticed, considering he was the one who’d been decked. “I’m fine. Why the hell did you sneak up on me like that? If I’d had the gun, I could have killed you.” Her voice was breathless and as shaky as her hands.
“Shoot first, ask questions later? I don’t think so, Maggie May.” He sat up, flexing his muscles a little gingerly. “I didn’t want to wake you if I could help it.”
“Then why didn’t you just get in your own bed and be quiet?” she demanded. “Why did you come and stare at me like you were a … a …”
“I was staring at you like a red-blooded, healthy American male, Maggie,” he drawled. “I wanted to see if you were sleeping in the raw.”
“As you can see, I wasn’t.” The lace bra and bikini panties weren’t much, but they were better than nothing. “What did you have in your hand?”
“Dinner,” he said, with his first touch of irritation.
“For you?”
“For you. I brought you a corned-beef sandwich from the diner across the way. From the smell of it, I expect it’s now decorating the wall.”
Slowly Maggie moved away from him, climbing back onto her bed with more than a trace of embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I guess I’m a little jumpy.”
He rose from the floor, groaning audibly and with a melodramatic flair that should have reassured her. “I guess you are. You want me to get you another sandwich?”
“I don’t suppose you managed to come up with some Jack Daniel’s?”
Mack’s face split in a grin that lit the darkened room. “Someday you’ll learn not to underestimate me, Superwoman,” he replied. He retrieved a half-full bottle from the top of the television, switching it on before he turned back to her. As the sounds of Dallas filled the motel room Maggie took a good, healthy swig from the bottle.
“Did you drink this much already?” she questioned.
“Nope. I bought it from the owner of the Laundromat. Paid twenty bucks for it too.” He caught it from her hand and took an even healthier swig. “Worth every penny,” he said reverently.
“I suppose. You’d better ration it, though,” she warned, grabbing it back and matching his drink. “I don’t know how long we’ll be here.”
“Till tomorrow at ten.”
“What?” She wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly.
“I said we’ll be here till ten. At which point we will meet up with Jesse’s friend Sam, who will take us to Chico, who will pass us on to Lonesome Fred.”
“And who will Lonesome Fred pass us on to?”
“To Honduras, if all goes well. Lonesome Fred is a pilot. I gather it wouldn’t be wise to ask how he usually earns his living in this part of the country. Suffice it to say he’ll take any cargo anywhere, without the inconvenience of customs or rude questions. For a sizable sum of money, of course.”
“How sizable? With Peter dead my resources are limited.”
“I’ve got more than enough.” He dropped down on the bed opposite her. “You don’t approve of messing with smugglers?”
“I didn’t say that. Dopers got us into this mess, they may as well help us get out. You’ve been very efficient.” Her voice was flat.
“And you don’t like it.”
“Why shouldn’t I like it?”