Saints Astray (Santa Olivia #2)

Saints Astray (Santa Olivia #2) Page 10

“Enough!” Marcela shuddered when Loup described letting Miguel Garza hit her with buckshot-weighted gloves to get used to the sensation. “Don’t translate that, mijo,” she said to Christophe. “You’ll only give them ideas.”

“Sí, Mami.”

She clapped her hands. “Anyway, time for music!”

A three-piece band that had been quietly setting up began to play. Everyone danced without reservation, trading partners freely, even shy Amaya taking turns with the younger boys. From time to time, someone would call out for the band to play fast, fast, fast and the band would oblige for a time. Everyone would drop out but whatever delighted cousin was dancing with Loup.

“Fun,” Pilar commented when the band took a break. She was flushed and her eyes were sparkling.

Loup smiled. “Yeah.”

“Hey, Lupita!” Raimundo approached her. He put up his fists. “Show me, huh?”

She shook her head. “Not here.”

“Aw, c’mon!” He shuffled his feet and essayed a couple of lightning-swift jabs at her. She slipped them without thinking. He beckoned. “Just a little.”

“It’s a party. I’m wearing a dress, Raimundo.”

“C’mon!” He flashed an engaging grin, then turned like a shot and grabbed a startled Pilar, slinging her effortlessly over his shoulder and holding her in place with one arm. “I give her back when you show me!”

On the far side of him, Pilar let out a stifled squeak. “Put me down, you asshole!”

“When she shows me!”

Consuelo stormed over, railing at her son in Spanish. He defended himself in the same language, sounding aggrieved, heedless of Pilar dangling over his shoulder, heels kicking. Loup watched them uncertainly, not wanting to do anything that would result in Pilar being dropped on her head.

“Show him,” Christophe suggested behind Loup.

“You serious?”

He nodded. “Hard.”

She glanced at his mother. Marcela nodded, resigned. “Sometimes it is the only way.”

“Okay!” Loup called. “Put her the fuck down, Raimundo. I’ll do it.” He obliged, beaming. “You okay?” she asked Pilar.

“Yeah.” She adjusted her dress, disgruntled. “Mostly.”

Loup beckoned to Raimundo. He came at her, swinging happily. She ducked and slipped his first two punches, caught and deflected another, then feinted and took him down with a combination—two quick shots to the body, then a right hook that clouted his left ear and knocked him off his feet.

“Ow, ow, ow!” He rolled on the terrace, clutching his ear.

The other cousins yelled and hooted, laughing at him. Their mothers exchanged glances and shook their heads.

Pilar kissed Loup’s cheek. “Thanks, baby.”

She shook out her stinging right hand. “Sure.”

Raimundo got to his feet, still clutching his swollen ear. “Good job, prima.”

“He meant it to be nice in a way,” Christophe informed her. “Our fathers, they let us be a little crazy with one another. He meant it to show you are one of us, Loup.” He frowned at Raimundo and said something to him in Spanish. “But not with others, eh? Only us. Leave Pilar alone.”

“Perdóname,” Raimundo said to Pilar. “Please?”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Maybe.”

Loup eyed her cleavage. “Pilar, that’s not helping.”

“Too bad.”

The band, prompted by Marcela, resumed playing a lively tune. “Please?” Raimundo repeated to Pilar. “I will not do it again, I promise.”

She sniffed. “Okay.”

The evening ended happily, in part because the incident was nothing unusual for most of the clan, and in part because Pilar was too good-natured to hold a grudge. Before the night was out, she’d danced with Raimundo and forgiven him.

“You’re good for the boys,” Tía Marcela said to Loup.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “You show them they have limits, that there are things they cannot do, when so many things come so easy to them. You have worked hard for things. You will stay for a while, I hope?”

Loup glanced at Pilar, who nodded. “For a while, yeah.”

“Good.”

In the bedroom, with a breeze blowing through the open window, they lolled between crisp, clean sheets.

“You think you would have been like them, baby?” Pilar asked dreamily, stroking Loup’s body with her fingertips. “If you hadn’t grown up where you did, having to hide what you are? Kinda wild, kinda crazy?”

Loup shook her head. “I dunno. I like them, but it’s hard to get used to.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I like you how you are.” Pilar regarded her. “And if you hadn’t, I’d never have known you. Is that wrong?”

“No.”

“Hey, Loup?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Could you do what Raimundo did? Throw me over your shoulder?”

“Yeah, sure.” Loup propped herself on one elbow. “You liked it?”

“No!” Pilar said indignantly. “But, um… it might be kind of fun if you did it. And then you could ravage me.”

“Ravish.”

“That, too.”

Loup smiled. “Okay.”

“Oh, good.” Pilar wriggled happily. “But not tonight, okay? I’m kinda worn out.”

“Yeah, they’re kind of exhausting.” She yawned. “Even for me.”

“Baby, you just got out of prison a few days ago. Give yourself a break.” Pilar twirled a lock of her hair around one finger and tugged it gently. “You think you might want to stay here?”

“I dunno. But I’m glad we’re here.”

“Me too.”

SEVEN

The days that followed were idyllic.

It was hard to get used to that, too.

The weather was glorious, hot and sunny. On the first day, Christophe appointed himself their tour guide. He took them to the bank where Loup signed papers for an account held in her name. It was only a little over thirteen thousand pesos, but it was enough to live on for a while, especially since they were Tía Marcela’s guests for now.

Afterward he took them to the market and assisted with the purchase of bikinis and towels, sunglasses and sunblock.

They walked to the beach, a curving slice of white sand with a backdrop of palm trees. The ocean was shallow here, a pale turquoise. Dozens of people were lying in the sun.

“So, um… that’s all you do?” Loup asked. “Lie there?”

“Pretty much,” Christophe agreed. “Or swim.” He nodded at a net. “Sometimes there are volleyball games. When I was younger, the others and I would play and make all the tourists stare.”

“And no one cares?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I have told you, it’s not illegal to be what we are. Only in America they say you’re government property. All the hotels and restaurants, they know about us, so there is always someone to explain.” He grinned. “Sometimes tourists come just to see us. One in a hundred, you know?”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Pilar said in alarm. She narrowed her eyes at a tall, suntanned blond woman sauntering toward the water. “Jesus, what about her, Loup? Do you think she’s prettier than me?”

“No,” she said honestly.

Christophe eyed Pilar. “I don’t think you have a whole lot to worry about, bonita. Anyway, we are very constant in love.”

“You aren’t.”

He smiled. “I told you, I’ve managed to avoid it. I move too fast for love to catch me. Put on sunblock, okay? A lot of sunblock. The sun is strong here.”

They slathered on lotion, stretched their towels, and lay in the sun. For the first ten minutes, Loup thought it felt great. The bright warmth beating down sank deep into her, making her feel loose and lazy.

In the next ten minutes, she got bored. “Can I have one of those?” she asked Pilar, who was perusing one of her celebrity magazines.

“Sure, baby.”

Ten minutes later she was still bored. “How can you read this stuff? It’s all about movies and music and TV shows we’ve never seen.”

“It’s homework.” Pilar lowered her sunglasses and peered at her. “We need to know this stuff if we decide to be secret agent bodyguards.”

“No, we don’t. It’s only because you want to know who’s famous.”

“Oh, fine.”

“The agency will have files on their clients,” Christophe said drowsily, arms behind his head. “They will have all the information you could ever wish to know, including how rich and famous they are, whether they are vegetarians, and what kind of prostitutes they like.”

“Oh.” Pilar shrugged. “Well, I still like to know.”

Loup got to her feet, impelled by restlessness. “I’m gonna go see if I can figure out how to swim.”

“Don’t drown!” Christophe called after her. “We don’t float so well because our muscles weigh more than normal.”

“Shit!” Pilar jumped up.

“She’ll be fine.”

She shot him a look. “Yeah, well, I’m not taking any chances.”

Christophe laughed and rose to follow her.

By the time he’d given them both their first swimming lesson, two figures came pelting across the sand at an inhuman speed, a trail of startled glances in their wake. Nacio and Raimundo plunged into the ocean, sending up geysers of water. They double-teamed their older cousin, dunking him and holding him underwater for a long time.

“Hey,” Loup said mildly. “Am I gonna have to hit someone again?”

They let Christophe up. A flailing, splashing, shouting scuffle ensued, clearing an area around them. Nacio broke away from the scuffle and approached the girls. “I promised!” he said to Pilar. “I teach you to swim. Why do you not wait?”