Touch a Wild Heart Read online

  “Word travels fast in the orchards,” she said, aware that his eyes were divided between her face and hands. “You heard.”

  “I heard a story that Chela Reola has found herself a Mexican lover. A man who can’t leave Mexico. But Chela Reola isn’t a woman who gives herself readily to any man. True, more likely a Mexican than an Anglo, but I’ve yet to see your heart rule your head.”

  “It’s true.” Chela deliberately dropped her eyes and stared at her hands. Kohl thrived on feeling that he was in control. All right. She’d play the submissive role. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I flew to Mexico in May to see some of my mother’s family. While there I met Ortez Varela.”

  “A laborer? Chela has given herself to a laborer?”

  Chela bristled at the insinuation that her romance was no more than physical. Still she held her temper in check. “Ortez is no laborer. He went to the university,” she continued proudly. “He worked in the oil fields, but that’s gone now. There’s very little work for him.” She allowed a measure of bitterness to enter her voice. “There’s unemployment everywhere. He wants to leave, but he’s made enemies with the government and they won’t give him a green card because of his political views.”

  “You could send him money,” Kohl challenged. “It doesn’t take a man with two eyes to see that you don’t spend your salary on clothing.”

  Chela cringed at the personal reference but refused to let it show in her voice. Instead she brought her head up slowly and faced the man. It took all the acting ability she was capable of, but she continued. “I don’t want him in Mexico, living off a woman. I want Ortez here with me. A man has to work to have pride. I can get him that work here.”

  “But you can’t get him here legally. For once Chela Reola can’t have what she wants.”

  The jab, Chela knew, was designed to test her. For a moment she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pull off her act any longer. The threads of her past were all too well-known to Kohl, only Kohl. “I never saw a penny of my father’s money,” Chela said levelly, calmly, the anger held firmly inside. “I’ve had to work for everything I’ve gotten. What I have in the bank didn’t come easily.”

  “Do you want me to cry for you, Chela?” Kohl asked, leaning forward so that his small eyes reached further inside than Chela wanted. “In this world it’s every man for himself. I know what you think of me. And you know I have no use for you—at least no use that would be served out of bed. We have too much in common, Chela. Your father is going to bind us together for as long as either of us lives.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that!” What had possessed her father to point out his daughter to Kohl? Of course he was going to try to use that to his advantage. Chela rose halfway to her feet before she could stop herself. This wasn’t the direction the conversation needed to go. He was only testing her by bringing up her father and the cruel past. Slowly, deliberately, Chela settled back in her chair and stared unblinking at Kohl until she’d regained control over her emotions. “You’re right,” she said finally. “We have too much in common. But because we do, I know what you’re capable of. I have money.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Kohl was smiling, his yellowed teeth exposed by dry lips. “That’s why I’m here. You have a need; I know how to provide the service. But it will cost you.”

  “More than it would someone else who needs you, isn’t that so?” Chela asked boldly.

  “You know me well, as I know you. Yes, if I bring Ortez to you, it will cost you much more than my usual fee.”

  Chela stifled a laugh. Usual fee? Kohl thought of spiriting Mexicans across the border as if it was no more than a service he performed for the orchardists he had contracts with. But wasn’t that what a coyote was? Kohl was simply a businessman who operated outside the law. “How much?”

  “That, my sweet lady, depends on many things.” He paused, laced his fingers together, and stared at Chela the way a vulture would stare at a rabbit caught in a trap. “For certain services performed I would lower my fee.”

  Chela wasn’t shocked. She’d known from the beginning that he would use this approach. In addition to acting as a coyote, Kohl occasionally provided women for lonely men. Nothing would give him a greater sense of victory than having her in his stable or, perhaps more than that, keeping her for himself. The thought made Chela want to gag, but because she’d known the moment would come sometime during their meeting, she was able to deal with it without becoming physically ill. “Name your fee, Kohl,” she said, her voice so low it was almost a growl. “There will be no compromises.”

  “Don’t be so sure, my wild one. We all have our price, we all have our breaking points. I could involve your father in this.”

  Chela felt bile rising in her throat. Every instinct aimed at survival screamed at her to flee the room and the terrible threat Kohl was holding over her. Her father! Was the man back in the area? Would he confront her if Kohl asked him to? What—what if Magadan learned who her father was?

  Only one thought kept Chela from burying her nails in the calculating face sitting across from her. Kohl succeeded because he believed in the power of intimidation. What if she called his bluff and in the end it was she who succeeded? He would be behind bars, and Chela would no longer have to fear the man who was her link with her father. “If I ever see my father again, you’ll never see a penny of the money I have set aside to bring Ortez here.”

  Kohl didn’t reply right away. Instead the small eyes seemed to glaze over as if he was concentrating on turning the thought around and around in his mind. Finally, “You don’t bluff, Chela. If anything, you’re too honest. I could walk out that door. You’d never see Ortez again.”

  Chela bit her lip to keep from smiling. She’d won this round! “I don’t want to live in Mexico, but I would if that was the only way Ortez and I could be together. I’m offering you more money than you see in a month for a few days’ work,” she said calmly. “You’d be a fool to turn it down.”

  “We’ll see who’s the fool, Chela. You’ll understand if I find it hard to believe that you’ve come running to me for help simply because you want to crawl into some man’s bed.” Kohl pushed against the arm of the couch and got to his feet. “Passion must learn patience. I have some questions I want answered before I take your money. I want to know how to get in touch with this Ortez. If I decide you’re telling me the truth, I’ll get in touch with you again.”

  “I didn’t expect it to be any different.” Chela rose, too, walked over to the telephone, and picked up the piece of paper with the address Magadan had given her. “Ortez will be expecting to hear from you.”

  “Maybe. And maybe he won’t be expecting the questions I ask him.” Kohl took the paper. Before Chela could draw her hand away, he grabbed her wrist with his oversized fingers and pulled her toward him. Chela could smell the stale whiskey on his breath as he leaned toward her. “I don’t make idle threats, Chela. You’ll regret it if you aren’t being honest with me.”

  Chela willed herself not to let him know how repulsed she was. Courage was one of the few things he respected. “I’m not a frightened illegal,” she said. “Touch me and I’ll go to the police.”

  “Maybe. Maybe. There’s one thing you better not forget, Chela. I know who your father is. Your employers don’t. The migrants who trust you don’t. You’d be an outcast if they were to find out that your father is—”

  “Stop it!” Had she kept enough of the hysteria she felt out of her voice so he wouldn’t guess how close to the edge he’d brought her? “I’m telling you the truth,” she went on desperately. “Talk to Ortez. All I want is him here with me. I’m willing to pay for it.”

  “Oh, yes, Chela Reola.” Kohl pulled her ever closer to his yellow teeth. “You’ll pay. In every way I want you to.” He was smiling as he fastened his left hand around her free arm and pressed his body against hers.

  Chela stumbled backward, animal instinct stripping her of every rational thought. She’d told herself tha
t Kohl was capable of using this approach on her, but the actuality of it happening was almost more than she could handle. “Get out of here! Get out, or you’ll be sorry you were ever born.”

  Kohl didn’t reply until he had her backed against the living room wall. He pressed his legs against hers, his mouth so close that she was forced to throw her head backward until her head touched the wall. “Don’t threaten me, Chela, or you’ll be sorry. You cherish your precious freedom. How would you like to have no life beyond what I decide for you? How would you like to live your days in a little room and your nights in the arms of whatever men I bring to you?”

  An animallike sob crawled its way up Chela’s throat, but she refused to give it life. Kohl was capable of that; he was capable of anything. But she wasn’t a helpless woman at his mercy. She had the law on her side, Magadan waiting for her call. “Don’t threaten me either,” she managed in the low growl that had escaped her lips before. “I’d die before I’d let that happen to me.”

  “It could come to that.” He grinned. “There’s just one thing I want you to understand, Chela. No one double-crosses me, no one. I’m not a stupid man who stops thinking simply because someone waves money at me. I don’t trust you any more than you trust me. If you’re lying to me…” He left unsaid what his punishing fingers and legs were telegraphing.

  Kohl didn’t give her time to answer. The thin lips that had been so close came even closer, teasing, challenging. Chela tried to turn her head to one side, but his mouth followed hers. He imprisoned her against the wall, capturing her mouth, teeth pressing cruelly against the soft flesh.

  Chela closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to fight the revulsion surging through her body. The urge to attack, to punish, was so strong that it almost overwhelmed her. But she knew what he was capable of if he became angry enough. She had to submit to his repulsive kiss, play the hated passive role. One wrong move on her part, and she would lose the chance she had of putting the revolting little coyote out of business.

  The kiss went on until Chela thought she would scream, but finally he gave her a small measure of freedom. “I’ll be back,” Kohl promised, his fingers digging into her wrists. “When I have my answers, then we’ll know whether we’ll be dealing in money or your freedom.”

  He was gone, the door slamming behind him. Chela didn’t move until she heard his car drive away. She tried to push herself away from the wall but realized that her legs could barely support her. She irrationally blamed Magadan and Phillip McAndrews. They were the ones who’d gotten her into this! It was their fault that Kohl was threatening her with her father!

  The thought lasted only until Chela had rid her lips of the residue of Kohl’s kiss, if it could be considered a kiss. She’d known what she was letting herself in for when she agreed to work with Magadan. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know of the evil thread that tied her to Kohl.

  And he’d never know. The part of the past that included her father was something she’d fought to bury for years. Word of it would never willingly pass her lips.

  Chela sank into her favorite rocking chair and rested her head against the back. She closed her eyes, fought off what she could of the emotions assaulting her as a result of Kohl’s visit. Slowly her breathing returned to normal. It was impossible to return to the calm she’d known before he walked in the door, but at least now she could think again. Kohl had contacted her. Magadan would want to know that.

  As she made her way to the phone and picked up the receiver, Chela refused to let herself admit how much it would mean to hear Magadan’s voice. It wasn’t until she heard his voice that she acknowledged the rush of warmth that spread through her. “Kohl just left,” she said in a voice she didn’t recognize.

  “Are you all right? You don’t sound so good.”

  A deep breath. Good. Now she could go on. “He hates me. The meeting wasn’t pleasant.”

  “And that’s all you want to tell me, isn’t it?” Magadan asked. “Don’t you move. I’m coming right over.”

  “No! You don’t have to—”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes if I don’t spot Kohl.” He hung up before she could respond.

  Chela went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She gripped the towel tightly to still the unaccustomed trembling in her fingers and focused on the dark eyes staring back at her in the mirror. They were larger than usual with a vulnerable, wounded look she hated. What her father had done to her and her mother was something she hadn’t been able to forgive…or forget. Most of the time the past rested deep in her subconscious, but Kohl had given the memories freedom. She knew it would be that way. She just hadn’t known that her eyes would give the memories away.

  Don’t touch me Magadan, she warned silently. Don’t ask questions I don’t want to answer. You have your secrets. Let me have mine.

  By the time she heard Magadan’s truck pull into her driveway, Chela believed she’d regained enough self-control to be able to face him. What she didn’t expect was to have him push open the door without knocking. He filled the opening, blinking to make out his surroundings in the dimly lit room. “Are you all right?” he asked as he closed the door behind him.

  “Of course.” She forced a shaky laugh and retreated to her rocker. “Kohl doesn’t have much use for me. The feeling is mutual.”

  “I want to know everything that happened. Is he going to take the bait?”

  It wasn’t the question Chela expected. She’d been hoping, despite herself, that he’d show more concern than he was. But in truth this was better. She could maintain control as long as he stood across from her and let his eyes take in her living room.

  “I don’t know,” she answered, when at length he stopped his exploration, sat down, and his eyes settled back on her. “He wants to get in touch with Ortez first.”

  “He’s no fool. Phillip told me he wouldn’t be easy to trap. What did he say to you?”

  “Nothing.” Chela bit her lower lip. She hadn’t meant to answer so quickly. “Nothing I didn’t expect,” she amended. Magadan’s hair was disheveled as if he’d been interrupted when the phone rang and hadn’t taken time to look at himself in the mirror before coming here. For an instant a thought filled Chela. Perhaps he had been with a woman.

  “Sorry,” he was saying. “That’s not good enough. Look, it’s my money I’m putting up for this little scheme. I’m the one who made the contacts with Ortez. I deserve more of an answer than that.”

  Chela stared at Magadan. Did she just imagine it, or had his eyes flickered downward for a moment, recording her attire? He was a businessman. It was a businessman’s question. “I’m the one taking the risks,” she pointed out sharply. “I have to handle this the way I feel is best.”

  “By being closemouthed? Damn it, Chela, that’s not what our agreement was.”

  “Agreement? Do you want to sign a contract?” Agitated, Chela pushed a nonexistent strand of hair out of her eyes.

  Magadan was staring at her hand. He didn’t speak as he rose to his feet and came to stand over her. She tried to pull her hand away, but he took it and held it up near the lamp beside the rocker. Chela turned to see what Magadan was staring at. That was when she noticed the marks left by Kohl’s punishing fingers. “He did that,” Magadan said. It wasn’t a question.

  Chela tried unsuccessfully to pull away. “It doesn’t matter. I expected it. That’s the way he operates.”

  “Not with you he doesn’t. The bastard!”

  Were those words of protection Magadan was using? Because she’d never heard them before, Chela couldn’t answer her own question. “It’s a part of the game we’re playing, Magadan,” Chela replied calmly, hiding the turmoil inside. “Kohl has to believe he’s in control of the situation. That’s the way he operates. You should know that by now. That’s the only thing he understands. When he believes he has me where he wants me, he’ll go for the prize we’re offering.”

  “Where he wants you?” Magadan released her ha
nd, but instead of returning to his seat, he knelt beside her rocker. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

  “Maybe.” Chela willed herself not to move, meeting his eyes much more willingly than she’d met the slimy coyote’s.

  “But if it’s something Kohl can use against you—”

  “I’m not afraid of him.” Was that the truth?

  “You should be. Damn it, Chela. I can’t believe the gall of the man. He had no right hurting you the way he did. Was that all you were wearing?”

  Chela glanced down at her robe. Her breasts were faintly outlined under the soft fabric. “Kohl doesn’t want me,” she said softly. “He knows I hate him too much to allow that to happen.”

  “Why?”

  Chela tossed her hair back, eyes flashing a warning. “That, Magadan, is none of your business.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” Again Magadan was on his feet. This time he was pacing, his emotions seemingly too much for the confines of the room. Because Chela seldom had a man in her house, she was mesmerized by the way Magadan fit in it. She’d always thought of the house as a mirror of what she was, private, basic. A man like Magadan shouldn’t look at home in a house with hardwood figures, rough-cut paneling, oil paintings of outdoor scenes, and Mexican blankets thrown over the backs of furniture. But he did fit. Tonight he was in jeans and a T-shirt, as if he’d casually thrown off the trappings of success she’d seen him in earlier. His tennis shoes made little noise on the solid floor.

  He turned on her. “Do you know what I wish? I wish you were a big truck driver of a woman with cold, calculating eyes. If I’d known the sheriff was talking about a creature with eyes like a wild deer and a body made for a man to touch—” Magadan ran a hand roughly over his forehead. “You’re complicating my life in a way I never thought would happen.”