The Stranger and I. Carol Ericson

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The Stranger and I - Carol Ericson Mills & Boon Intrigue

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shook her head. “He didn’t say why he was meeting the friend, but he told me he came to Mexico for the surfing.”

      Sinking into the chair across from her, he extended his long legs in front of him, crossing his ankles. “How’d he die?”

      Lila shot him a look from under her eyelashes. His expressiveness rivaled the Terminator’s. Looked about as hard, too. “I climbed into the back seat to get some sleep, and when I woke up Chad was gone. He’d parked down a gravel access road at the edge of a clump of trees. I had a strange feeling when I woke up, so I crept to the clearing and saw Chad with his hands behind

       him and two men questioning him. One had a gun and one had a whip or something. They asked him a question in a foreign language, he answered in the same language, and the one with the gun shot him.”

      The man sprang forward, his eyes wide. “You mean, you witnessed Chad’s murder? Did these people see you?”

      Was that concern for her? Encouraged by this first sign of emotion other than anger, she answered, “Yeah, I saw everything, but they didn’t see me. I hid behind some bushes.” She tilted her head. “I think Chad saw me though.”

      He waited in silence, his muscles perfectly still, but even in repose the man buzzed with activity, a thinly contained restlessness.

      Slumping in her chair, she massaged her temples. “After the men killed Chad, two other men came crashing through the bushes, yelling and screaming in Spanish.”

      His brows shot up. “Two more men? What happened after that?”

      She hunched her shoulders. “I didn’t want to stick around to find out. While I ran back to the car, I heard gunfire and a babble of voices. I got to the car and took off.” She bit her lip. “They probably heard me drive away, but I don’t think they followed me. Too busy shooting at each other.”

      He shifted in the chair and ground out, “You don’t think they followed you? That’s rich. You probably led them right to my doorstep.”

      He jumped up and peered between the plain white blinds as if expecting to see the two men standing on his deck.

      With his back to her, Lila now saw the gun shoved in the waistband of his faded jeans. His damp T-shirt clung to his back, outlining his muscles. Must’ve just gotten out of the shower.

      He spoke over his shoulder, “What are you doing here anyway, and why didn’t you call the Federales? Come to think of it, why didn’t you call the U.S. authorities once you crossed the border?”

      She took a deep shuddering breath. “Chad left me a note.”

      Fumbling in her purse, she withdrew the slip of paper and handed it to him.

      He opened it and scanned the contents.

      “Chad asked me not to go to the Federales, told me to come straight to you.” She added, “Y-you are Justin Vidal, aren’t you?”

      He snorted. “Little late to be asking that question, isn’t it? Yeah, I’m Vidal. This still doesn’t explain why you didn’t call the police when you got across the border. You took a big chance coming here. For all you know, Chad and I could be drug dealers.”

      Wrinkling her nose, she said, “Yeah, I thought of that, but Chad didn’t strike me as the drug-dealer type. And, well, I liked him. I wanted to carry out his last wishes. They were his last wishes.”

      Her nose stung with tears, and she rubbed it. She did not want to cry in front of this man again. Useless to cry anyway. He seemed immune to her feelings, immune to all feelings, including his own.

      He glanced up from the letter, his eyes traveling over her body, as if seeing her for the first time. His gaze left pinpricks of excitement in its wake. Great, she had an insane attraction to a robot.

      His lips tightened into a grim smile. “I see.”

      Lila folded her arms across her chest. She wasn’t sure what he saw, hopefully it didn’t include her peaked nipples, but she had more of her story to tell. “There’s something else.”

      Waving the letter at her, he said, “Go on.”

      She cleared her throat. “There’s a dead body in the trunk of Chad’s car. I think it might be that friend he planned to meet.”

      The letter fluttered to the floor, as Justin Vidal took a step back, one eyebrow lifted in patent disbelief. He whispered, “What?”

      Feeling more than a little satisfied that she’d elicited some solid emotion from the man, she enunciated, “A dead body.”

      He growled, “I heard you the first time. I can’t believe you drove across the border with a dead body in the trunk of your car.”

      She corrected, “Chad’s car.”

      His hand sliced through the air, and she ducked.

      “Whatever. What’s it doing there?”

      She launched into an explanation of how she’d stopped for gas, checked the trunk to make sure Chad wasn’t concealing anything illegal and discovered the body of a man curled up inside the trunk.

      She stood up as she finished. “You see, that’s another reason why I didn’t want to call the authorities. I didn’t want to come under any suspicion.”

      “And your actions up to now haven’t been suspicious in the least.”

      She shook her head. “I thought you’d be happy I came straight to you.”

      She expected a better reception from Justin Vidal than this. She’d just been through hell, and he was treating her like the enemy.

      Planting herself in front of him, she wedged her hands on her hips. “I want some answers now. Who are you anyway and who’s Chad and what was he really doing in Mexico?”

      “That—” he gripped her arm “—is not important right now. All you have to know is that we’re the good guys. Let’s go see this dead body, if he’s really dead.”

      His touch seared her skin. How could such a cold man cause a wave of heat to rush through her body? “Yeah, you’re the good guys. Chad brought me into this mess, and you’ve done nothing but manhandle me since I got here.” She shook off his hand before his scorching touch caused her to melt in a puddle at his feet. “Will you please get off me?”

      Those tawny eyes darkened as he dropped her arm. He limped to the front door and, hanging back, gestured her through first.

      What was he worried about? He had the gun.

      She glanced down at his bare feet. “Why are you limping?”

      His lips twisted. “You stomped on my foot.”

      Was that supposed to be a smile?

      “Sorry.” As she brushed by him out the front door, he recoiled. She rolled her eyes. Man, did he have issues.

      They hobbled into the street, empty except for a few cars parked along the side. She led him to Chad’s

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