Death in High Places (A Renegade Western Book 7) Read online

  “My name is Mimi and one would think what I wanted would be obvious, to any normal man.”

  “Naughty, naughty. You dye your hair, too. Look, let’s save some pointless sparring. You weren’t alone in the main salon the last time I saw you. You were with a couple of guys. One of them was packing a gun under his Panama jacket. I ask pursers questions, too. You’re not alone on this tub. You’re sharing a stateroom with the gunsel. And it’s not cabin thirteen. There is no cabin thirteen on this or any other steamboat. Some passengers are awfully superstitious.”

  She started to brazen it, shrugged, and said, “I might have known they’d send another queer.”

  Then she whipped a nickel-plated derringer out and held it under his nose. “Okay, I’m through screwing around, too. Let me have it.”

  “Okay,” he said, and then his ready-cocked left arm struck like a coiled sidewinder and she wasn’t pointing the gun at him anymore. It landed in a far corner as he twisted her arm brutally, and pinned her face down across the mattress as he rolled atop her. Mimi – if that was her name – was stronger than she looked, doubtless from having led an active life. She clawed the bed for purchase with her free hand as she wriggled under him, right arm pinned in the small of her back. Her wagging derrière moved the loose kimono out from between them as he pinned her with his weight. One foot slipped. He caught himself and spread his feet wide on the carpet as he leaned forward to flatten her chest against the rumpled bed covers. This moved his surprisingly erect shaft into a very interesting position between the sweat-slicked hemispheres of her bare and writhing bottom. It felt great. So he shoved hard and she moaned, “Oh, you bastard! I might have known you’d go for the wrong hole!”

  He laughed as he moved it in and out experimentally and then said, “Sorry, I don’t have a hotter poker to torture you with, me proud beauty. I’ll take it out if you’ll tell me what this is all about.”

  “Go fuck yourself, you brute!”

  “I like fucking you better, doll.”

  She moaned and pleaded, “Well, do it right, for God’s sake! I’m not getting anything out of it, except maybe piles! You’re too big for a girl to take that way!”

  He shoved it into her harder and said, “It feels swell to me, and I said we couldn’t be friends until I got some answers.”

  “Please, you’re really hurting me and I’ll let you, the other way.”

  “Maybe. First give me some reason to owe you favors, doll. I get wild as hell when I’m coming, and I’m almost there.”

  She sobbed, “Stop it, I’ll talk!”

  So he pulled out just in time, and rolled her on her back, wide-eyed and totally bewildered. As he lowered himself between her thighs, she started to close them, but gave it up as wasted effort, and opened her body to his. As he sank into her, belly to belly, she hissed in mingled pleasure and distaste.

  “Bastard! You might have wiped it off first! But all right, you know I was sent to search your cabin. You weren’t supposed to be here, but the open kimono trick was in case and—”

  “Later,” he cut in, kissing her roughly as, despite herself, Mimi began to respond. They were both keyed up by the naked struggle, and the high stakes she was obviously playing for added to the enjoyment of his triumph over her voluptuous body. He could tell she didn’t give herself lightly. She was obviously surprised to be enjoying it as much, as she indicated with her bumps and grinds on the edge of the mattress. Maybe the big guy with the gun was only a business partner, after all. She wrapped her legs around his waist and gasped, “Good God, I’m coming!” and as he returned the compliment he could tell she hadn’t done so recently.

  He left it in, letting her milk it with her post-orgasmic contractions, and as he got his breath back, he said, “You were going to tell me what you wanted me to give you, unless this was it.”

  She sighed and said, “You know, you bastard. We’re after your delivery.”

  He moved her into a more comfortable position on the bed and shoved a pillow under her hips as he said, “Right. Which side are you working for?”

  “Our own, of course. Oh, that is a nice angle. Can’t we talk about it later?”

  He started moving, teasingly, but insisted, “Come on, are you a Cuban rebel or a Spanish spy? It’s only fair to warn, you that I’ll laugh if you say you’re with British Intelligence.”

  Mimi moved her pelvis experimentally, but frowned up at him in what seemed sincere confusion as she asked, “What are you talking about? We’re simply jewel thieves, like everyone else after those emeralds.”

  He stopped in mid-stroke and said, “Emeralds? I’ve got emeralds?”

  “Oh, don’t bullshit a bullshitter, darling. We know one of you is smuggling all those emeralds into Colombia.”

  It was his turn to look surprised. He said, “Honey, you’re nutty as a fruitcake. People don’t smuggle emeralds into Colombia. They smuggle them out. That’s where they grow the goddamn emeralds, doll face. Why the hell would we be carrying coals to Newcastle, even if I’d ever seen your goddamn emeralds?”

  Mimi placed a palm on each of his buttocks and groaned, “Faster. Don’t ask me why you and your friends are sneaking around with a fortune in uncut emeralds. We’ve been wondering about that, too. Oh, wait, I like it this way and, yes, yes, keep it at just that angle and pound me silly, you son of a bitch!”

  He could feel what she meant. So, while he still had a lot of questions to ask her, they could keep until he came again.

  *

  Out on deck, Gaston flicked the last of his smoke overboard and smiled in the semidarkness at Liza, saying, “There, we have been here some time and the natives have yet to attack the mission. Have I convinced you it was just your imagination?”

  Liza said, “Perhaps they intend to make their move ashore. But I still say we’re being watched.”

  “And I say, so what? Where have you been spending your life, in a nunnery? You are an attractive woman. I say this with no ulterior motive, simply because it is true. Perhaps, up to now, you have carried your nose too high to notice the usual admiring glances. This business of secret missions and derring-do has set your nerves on edge. You are more aware of your surroundings than usual, hein?”

  She lowered her lashes, more confused than pleased by his no-nonsense flattery. Gaston said, “Eh bien, I shall take you to your cabin now. But first, would you like to tell me something about the hold they have over you?”

  She shook her head and said, “I couldn’t. I’m too ashamed.”

  Gaston chuckled and said, “You are in the company of a man who knows about shame. Aside from being a deserter and a traitor, more than once, I have killed more people and fathered more bastards than a man my age could own up to without appearing boastful. Let me see: you are not a traitor to the crown, since we find you working for it. You hardly strike one as a murderess and – forgive me – I find you rather ridiculous as a wanton. You could be a runaway nun, but that would not give the Church of England much of a hold over you, hein?”

  “I’m a thief,” she said, turning away from him.

  Gaston laughed incredulously and asked, “Merde, is that all? My poor child, I was robbing banks before you could have been born! Welcome to the fraternity or, in your case, sorority. For a moment you had me worried. I thought you were something truly dishonorable, like a politician.”

  She suddenly broke and buried her head against Gaston’s shoulder, bending a bit to do so. As he patted her and tried to sooth her with light banter, Liza said, “I betrayed a trust and they caught me red-handed. Oh, how can I make anyone understand? It was terrible of me, but it was only a momentary weakness. I know I would have returned everything, if only—”

  “Ah, the mystery fades,” he cut in, adding, “Everyone with imagination has such moments. To be frank, I have often considered returning stolen goods, but so far I have always been able to resist the impulse. What did you steal?”

  “What didn’t I steal, you mean! I was hired as the trav
eling companion for an elderly and wealthy woman of the peerage. I mean, she had so much, so very much, and she made me feel so small. I had to make all the travel arrangements, and she never gave me enough to tip the help where we stayed. That fusty old black dress you met me in – it was hers, a hand-me down.”

  “Ah, the Robin Hood excuse. I thought you said you were a thief.”

  “I am Gaston. My employer had been particularly demanding and was more than a little drunk one evening, and I suddenly found myself cleaning out her purse and jewel box. But the police stopped me at the railway station and when I asked to see the British Consul—”

  “Enough!” he cut in. “It is all so banal and, as I said, trés amateur. People who do not take stealing seriously have no right to call themselves a thief. A true thief is a professional. He or she does not justify theft. A thief steals because it is the business of a thief to steal. Children say they are – how you say? – swiping something. Emotional cripples whimper that they are repaying a cruel world for not recognizing their genius. Don’t call yourself a criminal around me, until you are ready to steal something simply because you wanted it!”

  Liza laughed, dabbing her eyes, and said, “Gaston, that is the most grotesque morality lecture I’ve ever heard. But it’s so comforting to feel you don’t look down on me.”

  Gaston could have said he had to look up to her whether he wanted to or not, but he was on his best behavior. So he took her arm again and said, “Come, we shall put you to bed, hein? I would offer to tuck you in, but a wise man quits while he is ahead.”

  They stepped out from between the lifeboats. One of the two men standing there swung the club in his hand at Gaston’s head as the other went for Liza.

  Gaston ducked under the slashing club and crabbed sideways, snapping, “Liza! Run for Dick’s cabin!” and then he saw he was inside the club swinger’s guard, so he chopped the bigger man under the floating ribs, danced back a pace, pirouetted on one toe like a ballet dancer, and high-kicked the heel of his mosquito boot into the attacker’s throat.

  The man dropped the club and followed it to the deck like a doused candle flame.

  While all this was happening, the other thug had groped for Liza, arms out to the side like an advancing gorilla and wearing a self-confident expression, until the girl dropped into a bayonet fighter’s stance with the furled parasol held at port between them. The husky man grinned and kept coming as he said, “Hey, make it easy on yourself, honey.”

  It was the last thing he ever said. Liza stabbed upward with the tip of her parasol, driving the steel-clad ferrule up his right nostril and into his brain.

  As Gaston turned from his own victim to see how she was doing, Liza half turned with the man hanging from her weapon like a hooked fish, braced her shoulder against the shaft, and literally pitchforked him overboard!

  Gaston stared slack-jawed at her for a moment. Then he nodded, said, “Waste not, want not,” and bent to pick his own unconscious victim up and shove him over the side to join his comrade in the ink black sea below. He took the blood-stained parasol from Liza as she faced him, frozen, and sent it over the rail, as he said, “Eh bien, nobody saw, and we have disposed of the evidence. All’s well that ends well, hein?”

  Liza stared wildly at him and gasped, “It all happened so fast! My God, I think I just killed a man, Gaston!”

  “Really? How curious, I remember seeing no one as we took our evening stroll about the deck. Forget it. It is over.”

  She leaned against a davit to cover her face with her gloved hands as she sobbed, “How can you take such a thing so calmly? Who were they? What did they want?”

  Gaston shrugged and said, “One learns to compose one’s nerves, after a few bayonet charges. I must say you could stand beside me in many a buttstock and bayonet action I’ve seen. As to who they were or what they wanted, they are hardly in any position to tell us, now. They may have been after my wallet. It may have been your fair white body. Neither of them were good enough to try whatever it was they had in mind.”

  She sobbed, “I can’t go on! I keep getting deeper and deeper into a life I never knew existed!”

  He started to take her arm again, saw she needed to cry it out, and decided there was time for another smoke before they went looking for Captain Gringo to compare notes.

  *

  So Captain Gringo and Mimi were not disturbed as they did it dog style. She’d completely shed her torn kimono by now, and the view was nice by the light of the Edison bulb as he pounded her with a hand gripping either hip bone. She seemed to like it, too, but as they climaxed together and fell limply across the damp sheets, she sighed and said, “I’ve told you all you wanted to know. When are you going to let me go?”

  He rolled on his side, keeping it in her as he propped himself up on one elbow and absently kneaded a nipple. “You haven’t told me what I wanted to know by half, doll. I was too busy to argue with a lady, but, all bullshit aside, you know you never expected to find me sitting on a bag of emeralds. That straw you grasped tells me one thing, though. You know more about my real mission than I feel comfortable with. Who are you guys working for? I’m a live-and-let-live guy, but if you keep holding out on me… I don’t know. I’m obviously not going to be able to fuck you to death, but I might think of something.”

  She moved her tailbone against his belly, partly for pleasure and partly from fear, as she insisted, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Aren’t you a courier smuggling uncut jewelry?”

  “No. Never mind what I’m really up to, but smuggling ain’t it. Where the hell did you get such a crazy idea?”

  “All right. If you must know, the dealer who sold the emeralds told us. You must know lots of dealers see that as a way to make money at both ends.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, and said, “Yeah, I know the dodge. Paris and Amsterdam are notorious for it. You sell a tourist jewelry. Then you inform the customs inspectors that said tourist has them. If he tries to slip them through without paying the duty, the informer gets a reward for his so-called honesty. But if some jeweler told you kiddies that we were smuggling gems, it not only means he was full of shit. It means you and your partners work for some government, no?”

  She shook her head and nestled back against him. “No, I swear we’re simply crooks. Double-crossing jewelers don’t just inform to customs officials, you know. Jewel thieves pay a nice commission and, of course, they can fence the jewels with the same crooked dealer, once they have them.”

  He slid his hand down her warm belly and began to tease her clit with two fingers while slowly moving in and out of her from behind. He frowned and said, “I’m getting used to the idea of you being a thief, doll. But it’s still a crazy yarn. Why would anyone tell you we were gem smugglers when, like I said, sneaking emeralds into Colombia is like carrying coals to Newcastle? Before you leave, you’re going to write the name of that weird jeweler down, aren’t you?”

  “I can’t. They’d kill me!”

  “They would if they found out. But I don’t intend to tell them. Come on, babe, give.”

  She arched her back and said, “I’m trying to, but you’re in, at such an awkward angle. I love what you’re doing with your hand, though.”

  He considered stopping, to torture her. But he wasn’t sure who’d be torturing whom, so he slid his free hand between them to withdraw the teasing tip and move it into a position that, while more natural for him, was a crime against nature to her.

  She said, “Ouch, you bastard! All right, the fence who fingered you was Van Tassel, in Limón …. and speaking of fingers, would you tickle me a little faster?”

  “We can roll you over and do it right, now that we’re friends again.”

  “Wait, let’s not be hasty, lover. It feels more interesting, now that you’re ringing my front doorbell while you’re calling at the back door. But start out gentle this time. I’ve got to get used to the idea.”

  He moved down a bit and made sweet music on her ukule
le while he eased slowly into her in time to her contractions and dilations. She began to moan and wiggle and he asked, “How do you like your Greek lesson, so far?”

  She obviously found it interesting, but before she could answer, a key turned in the lock and Captain Gringo stiffened, shouting, “Don’t come in, damn it!”

  But it was too late. The door was open and, Gaston being a gentleman, Liza entered ahead of him. Liza said simply, “Oh!” as she took in the scene. At the same time, Mimi popped off him as if she’d just noticed she was sitting on a tack and tore across the cabin head down, like a charging bull, or – in her case – perhaps a cow.

  It would never be established whether Mimi was going for the gun on the floor, throwing a flying tackle into Liza, or just trying to get the hell out of there. As the voluptuous naked redhead came her way, the taller and leaner English girl reached out to grab two fistfuls of henna-rinsed hair, and the two of them flew backwards out on deck as Gaston sidestepped. Their combined momentum carried them as far as the rail, where Liza stopped with her hip against the bulwark while Mimi kept going!

  Captain Gringo had missed part of it as he rolled off the bed and scooped up Mimi’s derringer. As he straightened up, Liza faced him in the open doorway, stared, and then snapped, “For God’s sake, have you no modesty?”

  Captain Gringo sighed as he realized what he had to look like standing stark naked with a gun and an erection. Then he shrugged and said, “Well, it’s a little late for maidenly modesty. For Chrissake, let’s all get inside and shut the door!”

  Liza might not have moved, but Gaston came back from his exploratory glance over the side and shoved her inside. As Gaston closed the door, he said, “Nobody else on deck, praise Allah.”

  “Did she get away?”

  “No, our athletic young maiden, here, threw her overboard. She’s been doing a lot of that lately.”