Page 13 of Vaquero
Julio’s dark eyes sparkled when he lifted sweet Dominic out of his shirt and, cradling his head so, so carefully, handed him over the heads of the other children to Meg. “Please hold my baby,Senorita,but just until I return.”
“Your baby?” Meg cocked her head at this incredible man. And he knew the difference between the Spanish version ofSenoritaand the Portuguese,Senhorita. “You… you want him back?”
He gave her the same curt nod he’d given Pepe, then asked Pepe, “Are you ready,compadre?”
“Yes,SenhorJuarez. I am ready.” Pepe puffed out his skinny chest. Ah, this boy was in such a hurry to grow up.
“Wait,” Meg whispered as she shifted her sarape and shirt to accommodate toasty warm Dom. “Pepe’s only ten. He’s too young. I should be the one going with you.”
“Not so. This is men’s work. Trust us. We’ll take good care of each other. Right,amigo?”
Of course, Pepe’s hard, proud, little head bobbed like a cork on a fishing line with a ten-pound trout on the other end. He was trying so hard to be like his father.
“Don’t let anything happen to him.” Meg laced that command with the promise of a painful death if Julio didn’t return with her boy.
Oddly, it was Pepe who answered with, “Do not worry,Senhorita.I will take especially good care ofSenhor Juarez.”
“I meant—”
The barest hint of pride tweaked the corners ofSenhorJuarez’s lips. Enough that it stopped Meg from correcting Pepe. Julio nodded at her,message received. He knew something she was just beginning to realize. Pepe was already a man.
She sent them on their way with a fervent, “Be safe, guys.”
Then she sat with the others in the shade of the monolith called Giant’s Toes and waited for the worst to happen. For gunfire and screaming. For mayhem and death to break out.
For all of five minutes. Until Pepe ran back to her, sweating, grinning, and proud like the sweet kid he truly was. “Come quickly,Senhorita.Hurry!” he whispered. “Marta made stew! There is enough for all of us, and Craig has bread, real bread! Come fast, children!”
He scooped Maria high onto his shoulders, and the kids all but danced into camp while Meg held back, holding sweet Dom to her overly fluffy, warm breasts. He seemed to like it there, and she loved holding him.
By the time she rounded the Giant’s final toe, she could see clearly into camp, and that Marta and Craig had salvaged quite a few supplies. A couple boxes of their precious bottled water. Canned items like milk and meat. One of the ten tents they’d used when they’d called themselves an orphanage. Someone had fashioned a table from a long wooden plank and two tree trunks. It was scorched on one end and crooked, but for now, a buffet of soup and bread awaited.
Julio, Fernando, Joseph, and Craig stood at the end of that table with their heads together like conspirators. Kindly Martaoooh’dandahhh’dover each child in turn. Hugging them. Telling them they had to be quiet. Yet declaring how much they’d grown while they’d been gone, when they had done anything but. Crying over Maria, Joachim, and Pedro as they sobbed their relief and fears into her ample arms.
Family.This family meant so, so much to Meg. Hurriedly, she swiped the stray droplets sparkling at the corners of her eyes away. No one needed to see how deeply this miraculous reunion affected her. By all rights, these children should’ve never been seen again, not after Oz had them. Orlando wasn’t a man of leniency, kindness, or courage. He was one of many bullies who ruled this portion of the globe.
Someone needed to stand up to him, and she wanted to be that person. But a woman with partial paralysis was no match for a brutal warlord, cartel lord, or whatever the hell he wanted to be called today. But there had to be a way to end his reign of terror, once and for all.
“Let’s eat,” she whispered with as much cheer as she could muster quietly. “Kids, grab a bowl. Marta, did you manage to salvage any utensils? You gentlemen, come and eat. Make it quick. My kids are hungry.” She directed that stern, but hushed order, at the clustered group of too-serious males still huddled in conference. All four looked across camp at her, but it was Julio’s dark, nearly black eyes, that skewered hers. In three long strides, he was at her side.
“I can take him,” he offered, his hands splayed for Dom and his voice an urgent murmur.
“But you should eat,” she replied. “Eat first, then I’ll—”
“No. I’ll hold him while you eat. The kids need you. Go.”
And you need this little angel, don’t you?Meg acquiesced instead of arguing who was hungrier or tougher. “Well, if you’re sure,” she said to make it sound like giving Dom back was no big deal, when it was obviously a very big deal for Julio.
He fluttered his fingers. Manly fingers. Not long or elegant, but sturdy and compact like the rest of him. Trimmed nails. No ring. Not like she cared. But, yeah. No ring. Not even a white line around his finger where one might have recently been. That was worth noticing.
Once again, Meg maneuvered Dom out from under her shirt and the sarape. When she extended her arms, Julio’s hands slid under hers. Over hers. Skin to skin, touching her to make certain there was no way Dom could fall.
The air shimmered between them for a second. Not long. But something extraordinary sizzled. It was gone as quickly as this big, tough special agent returned Dom to what had to be heaven beneath his black button-up shirt. One big hand now cupped the boy’s little butt, making sure Dom was securely supported.
Meg forced a swallow, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird in her throat, and her mouth suddenly dry. Was that not the sexiest thing she’d ever seen? A man who genuinely knew how to handle a strange, sick, dirty, little boy. Who wanted him back, and who actually wanted to comfort him?
She took a step back before she reached into Julio’s shirt and put a hand over his heart. Or before she did something even more foolish. Like thank him. Hug him. Kiss the bejesus out of him. Man, what a rush just looking at him was. She forced another spitless swallow, sure she was making a complete fool of herself, but unable to stop watching.
Good grief, Duncan. Get a grip.
