Hot ice - By Nora Roberts Page 0,35

in a white panama a few seats forward mopped at his face with a large bandana. Because she thought she recognized him from the zoma, Whitney smiled. He only pocketed the bandana and went back to his newspaper. Idly Whitney noticed it was English before she turned back to a study of the landscape.

Grassy rolling hills raced by, almost treeless. Small villages or settlements were huddled here and there with thatch-roofed houses and wide barns positioned near the river. What river? Doug had the guidebook and could certainly tell her. She was beginning to understand he could give her a fifteen-minute lecture on it. Whitney preferred the anonymity of dirt and water.

She saw no crisscross of telephone wires or power poles. The people living along these endless, barren stretches would have to be tough, independent, self-sufficient. She could appreciate that, admire it, without putting herself in their place.

Though she was a woman who craved the city with its crowds and noise and pulse, she found the quiet and vastness of the countryside appealing. She’d never found it difficult to value both a wildflower and a full-length chinchilla. They both brought pleasure.

The train wasn’t quiet. It rumbled and moaned and swayed while conversation was a constant babble. It smelled, not too unpleasantly as air drifted through the windows, of sweat. The last time she’d ridden a train had been on impulse, she recalled. She’d had an air-conditioned roomette that smelled of powder and flowers. It hadn’t been nearly as interesting a ride.

A woman with a thumb-sucking baby sat across from them. He stared wide-eyed and solemn at Whitney before reaching out with a pudgy hand to grab her braid. Embarrassed, his mother yanked him away, rattling a quick stream of Malagasy.

“No, no, it’s all right.” Laughing, Whitney stroked the baby’s cheek. His fingers closed around hers like a small vise. Amused, she signed for the mother to pass him to her. After a few moments of hesitation and persuasion, Whitney took the baby onto her lap. “Hello, little man.”

“I’m not sure the natives have heard of Pampers,” Doug said mildly.

She merely wrinkled her nose at him. “Don’t you like children?”

“Sure, I just like them better when they’re house-broken.”

Chuckling, she gave her attention to the baby. “Let’s see what we’ve got,” she told him and reaching in her purse came up with a compact. “How about this? Want to see the baby?” She held the mirror up for him, enjoying the gurgling laughter. “Pretty baby,” she crooned, rather pleased with herself for amusing him. Just as amused as she, the baby pushed the mirror toward her face.

“Pretty lady,” Doug commented, earning a laugh from Whitney.

“Here, you try it.” Before he could protest, she’d passed the baby to him. “Babies are good for you.”

If she’d expected him to be annoyed or to be awkward, she was wrong. As if he’d spent his life doing it, Doug straddled the baby on his lap and began to entertain him.

That was interesting, Whitney noted. The thief had a sweet side. Sitting back, she watched Doug bounce the baby on his knee and make foolish noises. “Ever thought about going straight and opening a day-care center?”

He lifted a brow and snatched the mirror from her. “Look here,” he told the baby, holding the mirror at an angle that had the sunlight flashing off it. Squealing, the baby grabbed the compact and pushed it toward Doug’s face.

“He wants you to see the monkey,” Whitney said with a bland smile.

“Smartass.”

“So you’ve said.”

To satisfy the baby, Doug made faces in the mirror. Bouncing with delight, the baby knocked at the mirror, angling it back so that Doug had a quick view of the rear of the train. He tensed, and, angling the mirror again, took a longer scan.

“Holy shit.”

“What?”

Still juggling the baby, he stared at her. Sweat pooled in his armpits and ran down his back. “You just keep smiling, sugar, and don’t look behind me. We’ve got a couple of friends a few seats back.”

Though her hands tensed on the arms of the seat, she managed to keep her gaze from darting back over Doug’s shoulder. “Small world.”

“Ain’t it just.”

“Got any ideas?”

“I’m working on it.” He measured the distance to the door. If they got off at the next stop, Remo would be on them before they’d crossed the platform. If Remo was here, Dimitri was close. He kept his men on a short leash. Doug gave himself a full minute to fight the panic. What they needed was

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024