man who only hours before laughed while a child clung to him like a monkey? Rock didn’t simply have different sides; he had multiple personalities.
The two policemen were only a few yards away now, close enough I could see their features. One was ruddy-cheeked, the other sallow with a prominent nose. Any moment they’d spot us.
The sallow one abruptly raised his hand and pointed, but not at us, at something farther off. “Ahí está la moto.”
“Vamos a echar un vistazo,” said the other.
Their pace quickened and they walked past, so close I could have reached out and touched them. A moment later, Rock let go of me. He stepped out of the shadows so I could see him and put his finger to his lips, gesturing upstairs. I saw no sense in this game-playing but I was ready to do anything to keep from being shot by a rattled cop.
We tiptoed up. Rock gestured for us to get against the wall, back in the shadows. As I did, I glanced down and saw the police men about thirty feet distant, standing beside Rock’s motorcycle, one of them jotting in a notebook. I had no idea what that was about but I found it alarming. Were they looking for us? Why?
We’d gotten out of one dilemma only to be in another. The clerk must have given them our room number. They’d be coming upstairs in a minute. Where did we go now?
After what seemed hours I saw them crossing the parking lot, headed back toward their car. What was going on?
“They’re going to radio for back-up,” Rock whispered.
“Why?” I whispered back. “What do the police want with us?”
“The two men I killed, seems they were cops. That’s what these guys were talking about.”
“They were kidnappers!”
“They don’t know that. They think something’s fishy all right, but at the moment all they care about is finding a cop killer.”
“How did they know to look here?”
“They didn’t. There’s police all over the state doing the same thing.”
“ All right, but how did they know to look for us ?”
“ Must have been a watcher at the hotel after all, which means a gang. Bad news.”
“B ut that was once we were inside. How did they know to look for a motorcycle?”
‘I doubt they did. The description is a tall, tough-looking guy—not much to go on there—and an American woman with red hair. I was stupid to let the clerk see you. They know about the bike now . The cop with the notebook was writing down my license plate. In a little while, they’ll have a name to go with the description.”
“But why would this gang give our description to the police?”
“Payback. There’s no better way to get shot than to kill a cop, whatever the circums tances. Go to your room and get whatever you need, fast. Stay there until I knock.”
I went to my room, grabbed my purse, threw my extra clothes in a pillowcase and sat on my bed, waiting for his knock. The thought occurred that I wasn’t a cop killer and didn’t look like one. Leaving with Rock was foolhardy, just a way to put myself in more danger. I’d do better to go to the office and give myself up. I’d probably have to spend some time in jail but at least I wouldn’t get shot. They’d question me about Rock but I had little to tell them except for his name, which they’d soon have anyway. The court would let me get in touch with the American consul, who would contact Richard. Before the day was over, I’d be represented by a high-powered Mexican attorney, charges would be eventually dropped and I’d be on my way home.
And Rock? The man saved my life and then put it right back in danger. Being with him was exciting in mor e than one way, too much so. He might be a swashbuckling soldier of fortune but I was a demure college student with a bright future that involved nothing more exciting than marriage, children and maybe running a foundation endowed from the family fortune.
Never were two roads more clearly marked. I was grateful to Rock but I owed him nothing and could do him no good
The two policemen were only a few yards away now, close enough I could see their features. One was ruddy-cheeked, the other sallow with a prominent nose. Any moment they’d spot us.
The sallow one abruptly raised his hand and pointed, but not at us, at something farther off. “Ahí está la moto.”
“Vamos a echar un vistazo,” said the other.
Their pace quickened and they walked past, so close I could have reached out and touched them. A moment later, Rock let go of me. He stepped out of the shadows so I could see him and put his finger to his lips, gesturing upstairs. I saw no sense in this game-playing but I was ready to do anything to keep from being shot by a rattled cop.
We tiptoed up. Rock gestured for us to get against the wall, back in the shadows. As I did, I glanced down and saw the police men about thirty feet distant, standing beside Rock’s motorcycle, one of them jotting in a notebook. I had no idea what that was about but I found it alarming. Were they looking for us? Why?
We’d gotten out of one dilemma only to be in another. The clerk must have given them our room number. They’d be coming upstairs in a minute. Where did we go now?
After what seemed hours I saw them crossing the parking lot, headed back toward their car. What was going on?
“They’re going to radio for back-up,” Rock whispered.
“Why?” I whispered back. “What do the police want with us?”
“The two men I killed, seems they were cops. That’s what these guys were talking about.”
“They were kidnappers!”
“They don’t know that. They think something’s fishy all right, but at the moment all they care about is finding a cop killer.”
“How did they know to look here?”
“They didn’t. There’s police all over the state doing the same thing.”
“ All right, but how did they know to look for us ?”
“ Must have been a watcher at the hotel after all, which means a gang. Bad news.”
“B ut that was once we were inside. How did they know to look for a motorcycle?”
‘I doubt they did. The description is a tall, tough-looking guy—not much to go on there—and an American woman with red hair. I was stupid to let the clerk see you. They know about the bike now . The cop with the notebook was writing down my license plate. In a little while, they’ll have a name to go with the description.”
“But why would this gang give our description to the police?”
“Payback. There’s no better way to get shot than to kill a cop, whatever the circums tances. Go to your room and get whatever you need, fast. Stay there until I knock.”
I went to my room, grabbed my purse, threw my extra clothes in a pillowcase and sat on my bed, waiting for his knock. The thought occurred that I wasn’t a cop killer and didn’t look like one. Leaving with Rock was foolhardy, just a way to put myself in more danger. I’d do better to go to the office and give myself up. I’d probably have to spend some time in jail but at least I wouldn’t get shot. They’d question me about Rock but I had little to tell them except for his name, which they’d soon have anyway. The court would let me get in touch with the American consul, who would contact Richard. Before the day was over, I’d be represented by a high-powered Mexican attorney, charges would be eventually dropped and I’d be on my way home.
And Rock? The man saved my life and then put it right back in danger. Being with him was exciting in mor e than one way, too much so. He might be a swashbuckling soldier of fortune but I was a demure college student with a bright future that involved nothing more exciting than marriage, children and maybe running a foundation endowed from the family fortune.
Never were two roads more clearly marked. I was grateful to Rock but I owed him nothing and could do him no good
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