Danger Zone by Doreen Owens Malek Read Free Book Online Page A

cover of shifting, diaphanous clouds.
    “What a lovely spot,” Karen said as Colter held her chair and she sat in it.
    “It’s the prettiest sight in Caracas, for my money,” Colter replied. He sat across from her and signaled the steward to come to their table.
    “What would you like to drink?” he asked.
    “I don’t know... whatever you’re having,” Karen replied.
    “Are you sure?” he asked. “I’m having a double margarita.”
    “Oh, no, in that case...” She stopped, nonplussed.
    “Double margarita for me and white wine for the lady,” he said in Spanish to the waiter. He turned to Karen. “Is that all right?”
    “Fine,” Karen said, relieved.
    “Most of the staff here understand English,” Colter said to her, “but I find you get better service if you speak to them in Spanish.” He shrugged. “They hate the tourists.”
    “I can’t blame them,” Karen said, sighing.
    A waiter approached them and lit the hurricane lamp sitting in the middle of their table, then stood at attention, waiting to take their order.
    “I don’t see a menu,” Karen whispered to Colter, leaning across the table.
    He grinned. “There isn’t one. You just ask for what you want and they tell you if they can make it.”
    “That’s original.”
    “How about a prawn cocktail to start?” he asked her.
    “Prawn?” she said doubtfully.
    “They’re like shrimp but they gravitate to warmer waters.”
    “Okay.”
    He ordered and the waiter scribbled.
    “ Y dos melones con carne, ” Colter added.
    “That’s like a honeydew, hollowed out with a meat filling,” he explained to Karen. “It’s good—you’ll like it.”
    She nodded.
    “And for the main course?” Colter asked.
    “Scallops?” she said wishfully.
    “ Ondas con migas de pan ,” Colter told the waiter. “Breaded scallops, sauteed in butter,” he said to Karen.
    “Wonderful,” she said.
    Colter ordered vegetables and a main dish for himself while Karen studied the view and, covertly, him. He was very fluent in Spanish, conversing with the waiter like a native, and she wondered how many other languages he could speak as well. For all his cosmopolitan air there was a cert ain rootlessness about him that disturbed her; it was as if he worked at remaining aloof and uninvolved, in the world but hot of it.
    “So,” he said, when the waiter left, “I guess you got off the boat okay this morning?”
    “Yes, but I wondered where you were when I woke up and found you gone.”
    “I had things to take care of in town,” he said, “and I knew the embassy people would look after you.”
    She wondered if the “things” he had to take care of involved collecting his fee for delivering the Almerians to Caracas. “I have your jacket and that other vest thing in my room,” she said.
    “Is that an invitation?” he asked lazily.
    “No, I just meant to remind me to give them to you,” she said hastily.
    He let that pass, but his intense gaze scorched her, conveying a message he didn’t have to send in words.
    The steward arrived with their drinks. Colter took a bite of his lime slice, then licked the salt from the rim of his glass as he took a deep swallow of the liquor.
    “Are you from Florida originally?” Karen asked brightly, taking a sip of her wine, desperate to distract him.
    “I guess so,” he replied.
    That baffled her into silence, but she recovered momentarily and said, “Your parents lived in Florida, then?”
    “I don’t know where my parents lived, Karen. I was a foundling and I was raised in an orphanage,” he said flatly.
    She stared at him, her throat closing. She could have cut out her tongue.
    “I’m sorry,” she finally managed to whisper. “I didn’t know.”
    “Of course you didn’t, and you needn’t look so upset. It was a long time ago. I just thought I’d better tell you up front so we could skip the chitchat.”
    “The orphanage was in Florida?” she murmured.
    “That’s right. It was the Colter