Devil Eye by Rebecca Jean Downey

Chapter Forty-Three

Penny slid her stocking feet across the hardwood floor of the hacienda’s massive living room, inching closer to the man relaxing in the leather chair. The shadows of the cavernous space, mingled with the subdued lighting, gave his face a yellow cast, and accentuated his gaunt cheeks. Even from ten feet away, Penny could tell he had not been well. She was so focused on the condition of the man’s health, that Pancho’s creeping up behind her, caught her off guard. He was carrying her pocketbook! “What are you doing with my bag?” She gasped, and grabbed for it.

“Si los pierdes! You lose it!” He elbowed her in the side, causing her to stumble and fall to the floor. She landed on her knees, and a knife-like pain shot up her right knee into her thigh. “Ahh!” She cried out, and the man in the chair laughed.

Pancho placed Penny’s purse in the man’s lap.

“Gracias, Pancho. Usted es un buen hombre.”

Penny managed to stand, determined to hold herself together, but her fingers were trembling and her eyes welling up with tears. Up until now, Penny thought she could talk her way out of this situation, but Pancho, in his fatigues, black boots and black beard, was a sinister presence in the dimly lit room. The man waved Pancho away, and he left.

He held her leather, hobo-style bag between his legs and rummaged through it, until he found Penny’s wallet and pulled out her driver’s license. “You won’t be doing any more driving! I’m going to keep this as a little token of our meeting.” He waved her license in the air, laughed again, and then shoved his hand deeper inside the bag. “There’s always something more in a woman’s handbag. I’ve learned that the hard way.” His chuckle came from the depth of his throat, causing him to choke on phlegm. He coughed several times, and wiped his mouth with a napkin lying on the side table, that also held the lamp. He pulled out Penny’s cell phone, which she noticed, somewhat hopefully, was still flashing green. That was good news. Perhaps someone could track her after all! He saw the green light, too, and dropped the phone to the floor and smashed it with his foot. Penny couldn’t help but express her anger. “You son of a bitch!” Her cell phone was her best chance of getting help because even if she could convince the man to let her go, how would she get back to the United States without someone coming for her? For the first time, hope slithered away, like a snake seeking sunlight on a cold afternoon. She felt an aching behind her eyes, and a pressure inside her nose, like her head was going to explode. She wanted to reach over and knock this little pittance of a man back on his heels. She tightened her fists, holding herself in check, only to remember that her right hand was bruised. This time the tears streamed down her face, and rolled beneath the neck of her sweatshirt, on to her chest.

“Miss Penny Larkin. I know you are wondering why I brought you to my ranch. And I will be up front with you, I can’t let you go back home. Federico Castañón tells me you are too smart for your own good.”

Penny was stunned! She had been foolish to tell the mayor she was working as an investigator. No wonder he had run from the Gas n Go like a coward!

The man rifled through her bag again, until he found her U.S. Marshal’s badge. “What do we have here? Federico thought you were a private detective. He had no clue you are working for the feds! This makes life so much more entertaining.” Penny could see his teeth, all white and perfect, as he smiled at her.

She had to keep her wits about her. She recognized that things would only get worse, if she reacted in fear. Guys like this got off on hurting women. He may have a bad arm, but he was surrounded with bullies who could do the damage for him. All he had to do was sit back and watch her take a beating. She wiped the tears with her fingers and crossed her arms, widening her stance. Her stocking feet were slick, making it tough to keep standing that way, but she was sure going to try.

The man smiled as he watched Penny’s aggressive body language. “Federico had followed you and tried to stop you on the highway during the dust storm. He hadn’t counted on you being armed. Instead he framed you for the murder of an informant they had with them—a traitor he and his men were planning to kill anyway. I guess the ballistics from your gun didn’t match up because you’re here and not in jail. It would have been safer for you to still be under suspicion.”

Penny’s face flushed, and she could feel the blood pounding through the veins on the back of her neck. She felt violated! This ugly man knew everything about her and she still didn’t know his name.

“Who are you?” she asked. Her voice was hoarse, and her throat cracked. She may wind up buried in the desert, but she would die without finding out the truth.

“My name is Martin Romero. You have heard of me?”

“No.” She waved her hand in dismissal, brushing him off like the maggot he was.

“People call me “El Acero.” You can call me ‘Steel.’ You may know my nephew, Juan Rico.”

Penny was way passed being stunned by this news. Nothing surprised her now. “So you’re Rico’s contact for running guns.” She had nothing to lose. She might as well as solve the case right now, even though she would probably never live to see it prosecuted.

Steel dropped her pocketbook on to the floor. Her marshal’s badge lay on the table, along with her driver’s license. “Miss Larkin. My great grandfather, Rodrigo Romero was a trafficker of weapons during the Mexican revolution. He helped Pancho Villa arm his rebels, who, in turn, fought valiantly to save the Mexican people from dictatorship and from greedy landholders. This was his ranch, and I am simply carrying on the tradition of being a freedom fighter for my country.”

I’m going to have my housekeeper, Margarita, walk you to your room. Please enjoy your stay, until the time when you must leave us. How long that is depends on how well you behave. And by the way, we’re serving dinner at 8. He pointed to the dining area across the room, where a man, dressed in a white chef’s coat, was setting the table. “I’ve left some of my wife’s clothes in your room. You’re about her size. She doesn’t need them anymore.”

Penny didn’t know if that meant his wife had left him, or was dead, or ran around naked. It was just was well. She was so angry that all she could think about was getting away from this perverted animal.

She heard the tapping of high heels against the wood floor, and saw a tiny woman, with a long black braid and dark olive skin, moving toward to her. “You come, por favor.” Margarita waved her bony, long fingers, motioning for Penny to follow her.

“Don’t bother trying to escape.” Steel called to her, as she followed Margarita down a long hallway, lighted with brass sconces and decorated with an expensive-looking Oriental rug. The intricate pattern on the floor made Penny dizzy to look at it, so she looked straight ahead at the little woman, who moved swiftly to Penny’s room.

“There’s nothing between here and Juárez except rattle snakes and wolves. So don’t get it in your head to do anything foolish.”