Against the Wind by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online

an ally in this armed camp, she needed one with more strength and daring than she possessed. While the ladies probably had their share of both, to be living in a war zone, they would hardly be likely to go against Jake on her say-so. Soledad was not worth considering. She’d be just as likely to turn her over to the crocodiles, and the doctor was far more interested in his bottle. That left Richard and the two teenage guards, and Richard had vanished with a guilty look on his swarthy face.
    Ramon and Luis, Jake had called them. One friendly, the other not so, with their machine guns and their American T-shirts. It was a strained source of amusementto Maddy that the friendly one’s T-shirt read “Kill ’em all, let God sort ’em out” and the glowering one sported Mickey Mouse. She stared at them idly over the empty plate. It would be up to the sympathetic one to get her to her father. Mickey Mouse wouldn’t let him, so she would have to wait until they were alone.
    With a sigh she pushed back the empty plate, ignoring the still-hungry pangs of her nervous stomach. Her two guards were looking very official, standing there by the door. She would give them some time to become accustomed to her before she made her move. The one advantage to Latino machismo was that it made men underestimate the female of the species, and Maddy needed her young guards trusting and willing.
    She leaned back against the plaster wall, running a weary hand through her tangled mop of hair. The high, narrow windows let in a fitful light and no fresh air at all, and despite the coolness of the underground walls Maddy felt as if she were suffocating. Though perhaps the certain knowledge that she had unexpectedly become a prisoner added to the feelings of claustrophobia.
    What had they done with her car? She was no longer so intent on rescuing her father. It seemed as if he had more than enough protectors to keep him safe from whichever side threatened him. At this point all she wanted to do was to ascertain he was safe and reasonably well and then get the hell out of Puente del Norte.
    She closed her eyes for a moment. They felt dry and gritty from the trip, and oh so weary. She would have given anything for her purse and her contact lens case. Sooner or later Jake would have to take her to see her father. He couldn’t put it off forever, but in the meantime she would simply have to be patient. Probably by later afternoon, or early this evening, she’d see Samuel, and bytomorrow morning she’d be driving back down that rutted trail that passed for the Grand Pablan Highway, and be back in L.A. by the weekend.
    It should have been a comforting thought. She had finally laid to rest the ghosts of her childhood, and if the dissolving of almost-forgotten dreams hurt, then what was new about that? Life hurt.
    But how forgotten was John Thomas Murphy? She hadn’t been able to visualize his face when she was driving there, but once she had faced him there was instant recognition. And the past, fourteen long years ago, was no longer shadowy and forgotten. It was as real as if it were yesterday.
    Her life had never been easy. Not being the daughter of Senator Samuel Eddison Lambert and his social, ambitious wife, Helen, who was herself the daughter of Everett Currier, one of the most powerful and least understood men in American politics. It hadn’t helped that Maddy had shot up to the height of five feet seven by sixth grade, and topped five nine by fifteen, and that she was awkward and skinny and shy. Even boarding school hadn’t helped. As happy as she was to get away from the rigid strictures of her parents’ life in the diplomatic circles of McLean, she missed her family, her friends, her life. And most of all she missed her older brother.
    For years afterward she would tell herself that everything would have been all right if only Samuel Eddison Lambert hadn’t allowed himself to be talked into running for President. But everyone had wanted him