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CHAPTER
TWO
“Hellfire and damnation!” Bull dry-scrubbed his face. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a steamroller.” The events of the night before seemed surreal. He touched his fingers to his lips where she’d touched them with hers. Damn! He could still feel her, smell her. His body reacted to the memory, his cock swelling and lengthening. He’d never felt this way. No woman had ever affected him like this. Not even Carol. Not even close.
As soon as his masked beauty disappeared into the night, he’d been about to take off after her, unwilling to let her go. Unfortunately, he was detained by an angry trio of men who were part of the throng chasing her. To give himself credit, he’d done well for an out-of-shape cowboy, absorbing a few blows and landing a few of his own. A couple of sore ribs wasn’t a high price to pay for the chance to rescue a true damsel in distress. Afterward, he’d talked his way out of trouble at the police station. Apparently, they believed his claim that he had no knowledge of the beautiful woman other than their chance encounter. Of course, the five hundred American dollars he slipped the officer hadn’t hurt either.
Once he was in the hotel bed, he’d barely slept and when he had…it was to dream of her. The imprint of her body was branded on his skin. His arms felt empty. His palm itched to cup her breast again. “Fuck!” Bull slammed his hand against the window sill. A whole city lay before him and he had no idea where to find her. He didn’t even know what her face really looked like.
All he had left of her was a sexy shoe and only one shoe at that, he didn’t know what had happened to the other one. By the time he’d stalled her pursuers, the other high heel had been lost in the darkness. Bull picked up the small red stiletto, weighing it in his hand. The tiny thing was a woman’s size six at the most, much smaller than the size nine his ex-wife had worn. He shook his head, amazed at how fucked up all of this seemed. Here he was, like some poor excuse of a Prince Charming in cowboy boots, longing for a Spanish Cinderella with a Free Willy complex.
What if he couldn’t find her at this bullfight? What else could he do? Go door to door to see who the shoe would fit? Damn, he didn’t even know her name. The men had yelled La something, but he hadn’t heard it well enough to make sense of what they were saying.
Placing the shoe carefully on the bedside table, Bull grabbed his phone. He might as well venture out, find out about this bullfight, get something to eat, and check his messages for any word from Cortez.
When he arrived in the lobby, there was a young boy hawking newspapers. Hell, he didn’t even know anyone did that anymore. Bull considered buying one, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to read more than a smattering of it. He started to turn away, when the photo on the front caught his eye. A red shoe. More exactly, the twin of the red stiletto he had up in his room.
“Lea todo sobre él! Senorita libera a los toros!”
Moving forward, he offered a few pesos to the boy in exchange for a paper. “Well, I’ll be damned!”
The desk clerk on duty was the same one he’d conversed with the night before. Going to him, he laid the paper on the desk and pointed to it. “Could you tell me what this article says?”
The clerk smiled, patting his own paper. “Apparently, some woman disrupted the festival last night. She released the bulls and there was much confusion. The only evidence they found at the scene was one of her shoes.” The young man leaned forward and spoke with a smile on his face. “They mention the presence of some unknown American cowboy. That wouldn’t be you, would it, senor?”
“Who me?” Bull pushed his hat back. “Get in trouble in Mexico?” He chuckled. “I’m not that stupid.” Yea, right.
“Certainly not, amigo.” The clerk winked at him, making Bull squirm a bit. “Many think the woman was La Diosa. She is fast becoming a legend for her bravery.”
“Who? What does it mean, this name, La Diosa?”
Patiently, the clerk explained everything to him. “La Diosa means the goddess. She has risen up against tradition to be a new kind of toreador, one who protests what she calls the senseless slaughter of the bulls. To many matador’s shame, La Diosa is braver, she faces the beasts with no weapon and conquers them with nothing more than her voice and her touch.”
Bull only processed part of what the clerk was telling him. He’d got stuck on the fact that the most delicate, feminine woman he’d ever met fought bulls for a living. “She’s a bullfighter?” The memory of his beauty telling him to come to the bullfight made scary sense now.
“Yes, the Goddess is a very sexy bullfighter.”
“The Goddess, huh?” Damn straight. She’d conquered him with no more than her voice and her touch. “Is she from here? Do you know her real name?”
The desk clerk shrugged. “No one knows either of those things. The only way you can find her is by attending the bullfight with the rest of us. La Diosa faces death again tonight.” He gave Bull a flyer that told when and where the spectacle would be held.
“I don’t like the sound of this at all.” A shiver of fear passed over him. He didn’t like to think of the beautiful woman he’d held in his arms facing anything that could cause her harm. She needed someone in her life who cared enough to put his foot down and take care of her - and his size twelve, ostrich, hand-tooled boots were just the ones that could do it.
For the rest of the day, Bull searched the town himself, or the best he could with no knowledge and no direction. There were many beautiful senoritas, but none who remotely possessed the spirit and the bearing of his goddess.
At least, he heard from Don Luis and their meeting was scheduled for early the next morning. Bull almost asked him about the bullfights and what he might know of La Diosa, but he found he had no desire to share something so important with the stranger.
For Bull, the hours dragged by. Despite the beauty of his surroundings – vineyards, hot springs, lush valleys, and mountains – nothing seemed to draw him. He couldn’t wait to move with the crowd toward the Plaza de Toros Monumental de Aguascalientes.
When the time came, Bull was surprised; the plaza was welcoming and geared to tourists. Most of the signs were in several languages and one of those languages was English. One piece of information Bull gleaned was that the structure was the fourth largest building in Mexico, seating an estimated fourteen thousand people. Huge bronze statues of bulls and bullfighters graced the plaza out front. Everything seemed alien to Bull, nothing like a rodeo. He filed in as one of the crowd, his eyes drawn to the big posters, all displaying an artistic rendering of a shapely woman wielding a cape with graceful flair, proclaiming her name in large red letters.
LA DIOSA.
Honestly, Bull had no idea what to expect. Although he craved seeing his beauty again, he hoped she didn’t prove to be La Diosa. He had no desire to witness the woman he was so attracted to put herself in danger. When he found his seat, Bull was located about three rows up from the center of the ring. Frankly, he was surprised at how big and modern the place appeared to be, very much like where a football team would play. Situated in the center of the city, this seemed to be more of a cultural symbol than a sports arena, however. He didn’t know if they sold food or drink and he wasn’t interested in finding out. His stomach felt uneasy enough without tempting fate by consuming spicy food and beer. As the stadium filled up, Bull studied everything - the people and the excitement building in the air. He could hear many different voices and many different tongues. Without being told, he knew he was about to witness a powerful event - artistic, sensory, and dangerous.
“Excuso?”
A distinguished male voice drew his attention. Bull looked up to see a frail, but stately older man standing to his right. Bull picked up his Stetson. “Is this your seat?”
