She gasped as he crumpled to the asphalt. His gun skittered across the driveway and his left foot got hung up on the floorboard. He wasn’t all the way out of the vehicle. He stayed in that position, unmoving. Unconscious. She didn’t know what to do. If she reversed, she’d run him over, maybe drag his broken body along the road.
She stared at his slack form in horror. Maybe she could reach out and free his foot, but his legs would still be in the way of her tires. She wasn’t cold-blooded enough to back over him. She’d taken the same oath as every doctor: Do no harm.
After a minute of mental scrambling, she put the car in park and engaged the parking brake. Then she got out and walked around to the passenger side. He was facedown on the pavement, his left leg bent at an odd angle. She yanked on his ankle to pull him loose. His boot hit the ground with a thump. Unfortunately, he was still in the way of her tires. She could try dragging him backward by the arms, but it would be difficult. Putting extra stress on his torso might exacerbate his injury from serious to critical too.
Shit.
She was going to have to leave her car and walk into the city. She didn’t want to wander around a foreign country alone, without her cellphone, but what choice did she have? They had taxis in Mexico. She could find a pay phone.
Her kidnapper moaned, still alive.
Bastard.
“Get up,” she said, nudging his shoulder with her toe. “Get up or I’ll run you over!”
He didn’t budge.
She thought about kicking him while he was down. Instead she made a sound of frustration and went to retrieve her purse from the front seat. As her fingers closed around the leather strap, something very bad happened.
A black SUV pulled in behind her car, blocking her escape.
Chapter 5
Her scent haunted him all the way to Taxco.
Ian had expected the same punch-in-the-gut feeling he always got when he saw Maria. He wasn’t disappointed. Her beauty was stupefying, but he’d braced himself for it. He’d been ready to meet her pretty brown eyes. He’d watched her lips part in surprise, even delight.
He tried not to read too much into her reaction. She hadn’t known he was here to find Armando, not to pick up where they’d left off in the hotel room the other night. It wasn’t appropriate to leer at her while her mother was standing right there, so he’d schooled his expression. He’d kept his thoughts pure.
Then she’d said his name.
She didn’t pronounce it EE-un, short and flat, the way most Americans did. She said Ee-AHN, softening the vowels and placing emphasis on the second syllable. And just like that, he’d flashed back to the moment she’d cried out his name in pleasure. He’d smothered that memory and stayed focused—until they stepped outside together and he caught a whiff of her hair. Cool and wet, like polished river rocks and clean earth. Like a secret waterfall. Jesus. His infatuation with her had become ridiculous. He was as silly as a teenage boy writing poetry. Worse, he had no self-control. He’d actually told her that she smelled like earth.
Smooth move, Foster. Way to establish authority.
His senses continued to riot as he drove from Mezcala to Taxco. He’d always been this way with her. The world came alive in her presence. Colors were brighter, sounds sharper. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, connect with her.
But he couldn’t, because he had to do this job by the book. It was his last chance to prove he could follow the rules and keep his hands to himself.
Maria didn’t belong to him, anyway. She belonged here. He could see it in her braided hair and plain clothes. He could smell it on her skin, the elixir of a simpler life. She hadn’t left this place because she was bored, or looking for adventure. She’d come to the United States for the same reason most Mexicans did: Her family needed money.
The road to Taxco was long and full of potholes, with intermittent traffic that demanded his attention. Maria looked out the window, quietly watching familiar landmarks pass by. He considered her evasive answers to his questions and felt a twinge of pique. She was no saint, despite her demure style and fresh-faced beauty.
Was she covering for Armando Villarreal?
Ian had dismissed LaGuardia’s suggestion that Maria was involved with Villarreal, romantically or otherwise. But he could tell she was hiding something. Maybe he’d underestimated how far she would go to help her family. She shared a connection with Villarreal. She had feelings for him.
Ian suspected that Villarreal had feelings for her in return. Below-the-belt feelings. Villarreal was twenty years her senior, but hardly too old to want a piece of her. Maria turned heads everywhere she went. Everyone liked her, especially men. The thought of her with Armando set Ian’s nerves on edge. He flexed his hands on the steering wheel and took a deep breath.
“What is this?” she asked in English, touching her upper lip. “You are growing a mustache, yes?”
He made a noncommittal sound. He’d meant to impress her with the new look, but now he felt self-conscious about it, like an outsider trying to fit in. He wasn’t Mexican, no matter how much he’d wished to be as a kid. Why did he think he could pull off a mustache?
“It is handsome on you.”
He glanced at her in surprise. She was staring at his mouth intently. Maybe she was wondering how his stubble would feel against her skin. He cranked up the radio so she wouldn’t talk anymore. Because her open admiration was like a balm for old wounds, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted again.
They reached Taxco around noon. Maria directed him toward La Escuela de Nuestra Fe. He parked outside and studied the scene before exiting the vehicle. He insisted on going to the front gate with her. After a long wait, a nun appeared.
“Can we visit Sarai Tomás?” Maria asked.
“She’s not here.”
“Where is she?” Ian asked.
“I don’t know,” the woman said. “We found her bed empty this morning.”
Ian exchanged a glance with Maria, who didn’t appear shocked. “Have you contacted anyone about her disappearance?”
“No, se?or. We were hoping she’d return today.”
“Do you mind if we search her room? Maybe there’s a clue to her whereabouts.”