Maria insisted on writing a thank-you note before they left. The tote bags they’d been carrying weren’t suited for travel, so she borrowed an old canvas backpack from the closet. Then they crept down the hall and walked out the front door.
He paused outside to study the remote landscape. The rugged, mountainous terrain to the east offered no hint of civilization. That was the direction they’d come from. There was only one other way to go, down a long dirt road that led west. They might have to walk ten miles before they saw a vehicle. He was about to rethink his plans when a truck barreled toward them, tires kicking up dust.
“That’s José,” she said. “We should ask him for a ride.”
Ian nodded his agreement.
The man in the truck pulled into the driveway. He smiled at Maria the way all men did, tipping his cowboy hat.
“Can you give us a lift?” she asked.
“I would be happy to, but I should warn you that there is a police barricade at the end of the road. They’re looking for a norteamericano.”
Ian swore under his breath. So much for escaping El Limbo.
Chapter 18
Ian didn’t bother to pretend he wasn’t the North American in question.
José might have accepted Maria’s story about getting lost in the wilderness before, but now he knew better. The good news was that he hadn’t told the police anything. If he had, they would have been here to arrest him already.
“We’d prefer to avoid the inconvenience of a barricade,” Maria said.
José looked back and forth between them, shrugging. “I don’t blame you, muchacha. But this is the only road out.”
“There’s no other way?”
“The mountains.”
Hiking through the woods wasn’t an option in his current condition. Ian rubbed a hand over his mouth, wary. He hadn’t checked in with LaGuardia for more than twenty-four hours. He could feel his assignment going down the drain, taking his future with it.
“We have money,” Maria said.
José brightened at this news. “Don Pablo has a plane.”
“What kind of plane?” Ian asked.
“A crop duster. He is crazy enough to fly it, if you are crazy enough to ride.”
“How far away is he?”
“A few miles. I will take you.”
Ian climbed into the passenger seat with Maria. She sat between him and José, her face pale. Five minutes later, they arrived at a sprawling rancho in a state of mild disrepair. Dogs trotted around in excited circles and chickens roamed freely. “It’s lucky we’re here early,” José said, cutting the engine. “He might be sober.”
Ian removed the cash from his gun holster and glanced at Maria. He didn’t want her boarding a plane with a drunken madman. “You should stay,” he said in English, for her ears only. “They’re looking for me, not you.”
Her mouth twisted with irritation. “Not that again.”
He exited the vehicle, conflicted. He hadn’t considered abandoning her earlier this morning. He was too weak and tired to travel on his own. But now the stakes were higher. The police were closing in on them. He didn’t know whether to leave her here or bring her with him. Both options were potentially dangerous.
Don Pablo answered the door with a booming hello. He was a loud, boisterous man with a thick white beard and an eye for the ladies. José told him about the barricade and their need for alternate transportation. Pablo took one look at Maria and said yes. He seemed thrilled to assist a fugitive and his beautiful lady.
Pablo led them out back to his hangar. His crop duster had an open cockpit, like an old fighter plane. Ian took a look inside. The interior was clean and well cared for. The pilot’s seat was in the back, while the passenger sat up front.
“There are only two seats,” Ian pointed out.
“She can sit on your lap,” Pablo said, wagging his brows. “She’s light as a feather, and you’re no heavyweight. The three of us won’t exceed the limit.”
Ian figured that was true. Pablo wasn’t a big man, either. All together, they probably weighed less than five hundred pounds.
Pablo elbowed him. “She can sit on my lap, if you’d rather.”
“No.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Feel free to get frisky up there. I’d love to boast about someone joining the mile-high club in my duster.”
Ian arched a glance at Maria, embarrassed on her behalf. Pablo had said everything in Spanish, except “mile-high club,” because there was no direct translation for the phrase. Maria seemed to understand what it meant, perhaps by context. She frowned in disapproval.
“How far can you take us?” Ian asked.
“There’s an airstrip in Salto. It’s about an hour away.”
Ian liked the sound of that.
“You two married?”
“Yes.”
“Lucky man,” he said, winking.
The safety equipment consisted of a pair of dusty goggles and what appeared to be an old leather football helmet. Pablo gave both items to Maria. She donned them without complaint. Ian climbed into the front seat first and she settled in on top of him. It was a tight squeeze, but his injured leg felt pretty good. So did her sweetly rounded bottom, pressing down on him. If he wasn’t so worn out from illness, he might have gotten aroused. She trembled with unease as he secured the harness around her slim waist. When they were ready to go, Pablo fired up the engine.
Maria’s body went tense at the sound. She’d probably never been on a passenger plane before, let alone a small aircraft. He hoped Pablo wasn’t a daredevil.