Her eyes widened in the glass. “You became a mercenary? A hired gun?”
“Yeah.” Hugh braced himself against the shock and disbelief in her voice. He had expected both, but they still came as quick jabs in the gut. Perhaps that was because there were times when he had the same reaction to his own past.
A hired gun. A man who signed on to fight somebody else's war, carry out somebody else's vendetta. For cold, hard cash, up front.
People from Mattie's world, where the big battles were all verbal ones fought over weighty questions of artistic merit, could only be expected to recoil in horror from such a truth. In Mattie's world a man could be forgiven for showing up for a date with paint stains on his hands, but not old blood.
In Mattie's world a man did not make a living at warfare.
In Mattie's world a man was expected to have a civilized past.
In Mattie's world there would be no place for a man like the one Hugh had once been.
Hugh was aware of the old, familiar chill in his gut. He could hear it reflected in his voice. The cold sensation was automatic after all these years. It was a way of protecting himself when things were about to turn very bad. He could hardly feel anything at all when he went real cold like this.
Hugh kept his gaze fixed on Mattie's reflection, waiting impatiently now for the look in her eyes to change to one of shock and disgust; waiting for her to turn away from him.
He was waiting, as usual, for things to turn very, very bad, the way they had so often over the course of his life.
“Obviously not your sort of work,” she said thoughtfully, her brows drawing together in a considering fashion. “It wouldn't really suit you at all.”
“Not my sort of work?” Hugh stared at her, open-mouthed and momentarily speechless. “Uh…well…” There was no point telling her he'd been damn good at that kind of work, he decided. He was not especially proud of that fact. And she was right, the job hadn't proud of that fact. And she was right, the job hadn't suited him at all, even if he had been competent at it.
“Silk was also part of this team run by Jack Rainbird?” Mattie asked.
“Yeah. And Paul Cormier. Silk and I were in charge of logistics. We were responsible for figuring out how to get the team in and back out again once a job was done.” Hugh spoke slowly, his mind still on Mattie's unexpected reaction to his grand confession. “Rainbird dealt with the client, took the money, and gave us our shares. It was run sort of like a corporation in that respect.”
“Who were the clients?”
Hugh shrugged. “CIA as often as not. Or some front operation they were backing.”
“A nasty lot.”
“The work is steady. They pay well. And on time,” Hugh told her, his voice harsh.
“Well, of course. They could hardly expect people to continue taking risks doing their disgusting little jobs all over the world for them if they didn't pay well and on time, could they?” Mattie asked practically. “What happened in the end? Why do you hate Rainbird so much?”
“He betrayed the team.”
“Betrayed you?” For the first Mattie really did look shocked. “How did he do that?”
Hugh shrugged. “He took the client's money, as usual, but he also took money from the opposition. The opposition was paying better, I guess. Or maybe they had something more valuable to offer. Who knows? Maybe Rainbird just wanted out of the business and thought he'd take the opportunity to cash out big. But the net result was that he set all of us up on that last raid. The opposition knew when, where, and how we were going to be coming in, and they were waiting.”
“Oh, my God, Hugh.”
“Silk, Paul, and I and a couple of other guys made it out alive. But we lost most of the team.”
“And Rainbird?”
“He vanished. Word was he'd been killed by the opposition after he'd pulled his little trick. That was a logical possibility. Silk and I and the others assumed it was probably true. After all, the guys who'd paid him off to betray the operation knew better than anyone else they couldn't trust him.”
“I suppose that's true.”
“The only thing a mercenary has to sell is his sword and his guarantee of loyalty. Both belong to the client for the duration of the contract. Once he gets a reputation for changing employers in midstream, business has a way of declining.”
“Yes. I can understand that,” Mattie said weakly. She sank down onto the couch. “So you all thought he was dead.”
“He knew he had better be dead as far as we were concerned,” Hugh said.
“I see. Because he knew that those of you who had survived his betrayal would hunt him down?”
Hugh's hand, which was braced against one of the window frames, bunched into a hard fist. “Yeah. He knew it.”
Mattie looked up. “You said Paul Cormier was also part of this…team of professional mercenaries?”
Hugh nodded. “Cormier was the strategist for the team. He'd been in the business a long, long time. Long before Rainbird was on the scene. Paul worked with me and Silk to set up the Rainbird operations. Like I said, he was one of the few who got out of that last operation alive. Hell, one of the reasons we did get out was because of Cormier. He believed in contingency planning. He told me later Rainbird wasn't the first team boss he'd worked for who had turned sour.”
“It's beginning to look like Cormier wasn't killed by some marauding rebel or houseboy who went crazy on Purgatory, isn't it?” Mattie noted quietly.
“It's a lot more likely Rainbird was behind the coup in the first place. He would have gotten to Cormier right at the start because Cormier would have recognized him.”
“And Cormier would have come looking for you and Silk and the others so that you could all go after Rainbird.”
“That's about the size of it. Looks like the Colonel decided to come back from the dead, and Cormier was in the way.”
“Now what happens, Hugh?”
“Now Silk and I have to take care of some old business.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Her hands twisted together in her lap. “I don't suppose it would do any good for me to ask you not to try to hunt him down?”
“No.”
“I'm so afraid,” she whispered. “There's only you and Silk. Rainbird apparently runs a whole island now.”
“He won't have more than a few people around him. Five or six at the most. I know him. I know how he thinks. He never trusted anyone completely. Always said it was smart to keep the leader's inner circle down to a small number. The more people around, the more of a chance of betrayal. He ought to know.”
“But how can he maintain control of the island with so few people?”
“There were probably more at the beginning until he'd established himself. But now, according to Silk's information and the stuff Johnson pulled out of the computer, the guy behind the scenes on Purgatory is keeping a low profile. That means he's cut some deals with the people in charge.”
“You mean Rainbird's using money, not raw fire-power, to run the show?” Mattie asked shrewdly. “Makes sense.”
“Yeah. He's bought himself the perfect safe harbor out in the middle of nowhere. He can do just about anything he wants there, launder money, run drugs, organize mercenary teams, anything. And no one could touch him.”
“Why did he pick Purgatory?”
Hugh shrugged. “Things are a little loose politically out in the Pacific, but even so, there aren't that many islands you can just take over without some larger power noticing or getting annoyed. Purgatory was one of the few that nobody gives a damn about. No military bases, no tourism, nothing.”
“Damn. I don't like the idea of you and Silk taking him on yourselves. There must be some other way to stop Rainbird. Can't you tell the government or something? Let them handle it?”
“They have no interest in Rainbird or in Purgatory. Besides, as far as the government is concerned, there is no Rainbird. Just some joker named Jack McCormick, remember? A sm
all-time strongman who may or may not be pulling the strings in a two-bit island government. Unless he gives them a problem somehow, he'll be ignored.”
Mattie's eyes narrowed. “Besides, as far as you're concerned, this is personal, isn't it?”
“It's personal, all right.”
“What is this Rainbird really like, Hugh?”
“Remember I once told you that no matter how fast a man was, there was always someone around who was faster?”
“I remember. You told me that on Purgatory.”
“Well, Rainbird is the guy who is always faster.”
Mattie's eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
Hugh shrugged. “Just what I said. He's damn good at what he does, Mattie. Fast, utterly ruthless, and smart. But most of all, fast. I've never seen reflexes like Jack Rainbird's. A natural fighting machine. Good with everything, his hands, a gun, a knife, a rock, you name it. He literally moved like greased lightning. Just like they used to say about those old western gunslingers. Jesus, could he move. You never knew he was behind you until you looked down and realized your throat was bleeding.”
Mattie hugged herself, her eyes huge with horror. “How old is he?”
“My age. Maybe a year older.”
“You said you'd slowed down a little. Maybe he has, too.”
“Maybe.” But Rainbird had always been faster, Hugh reminded himself. So even if he'd slowed down some, he was still going to be slick. Very, very slick.
“Is that all you know about him? That he had unusually swift reflexes and fighting abilities?”
“No, I know a few other things,” Hugh admitted.
“Such as?”
“Women were drawn to him like moths to a flame. All kinds of women, young and old, rich and poor, single and married. One, a very beautiful, very rich wife of an American diplomat in Brazil, told me once that women knew he was dangerous, but that that was part of the thrill. She said there was something hypnotic about him. Something to do with his eyes, she said.”
“The man sounds like a vampire,” Mattie said with disgust.
“All I know is that he had something. Rainbird was never without a woman when he wanted one. And he got any woman he wanted. Cormier always claimed that a man who could have any woman never learned how to love one woman properly. But I never noticed Rainbird complaining.”
“Of course not. He wouldn't even know he was missing something. A man like Rainbird is essentially incomplete emotionally and pretty much of a coward at heart.”
Hugh blinked in astonishment. “A coward? Rainbird? You don't even know him.”
“No, but I've met men who go from woman to woman and never seem to be able to bond permanently with one. Every woman has met a man like that at some time in her life. They can be very amusing because they've usually developed a lot of surface charm, but a smart woman doesn't do anything more than entertain herself for a while with one. Men like that are useless in the long run. Bad genetic material, as Aunt Charlotte would probably point out.”
“The hell you say.” Hugh was fascinated.
“It's true. It's hard to explain. It's just that, once you scratch the surface on a man like that, there's nothing underneath.” Mattie's shoulders rose and fell in a small shrug. “They're empty shells. Something important is missing. When a woman says a man is literally no good, that's the kind of man she's talking about. He's no good to her in terms of bonding and survival because he has no guts or staying power. He can't be trusted to make a commitment and keep it. Like I said, he's simply no good.”
“Do all women look at men in those terms?” Hugh asked, stunned.
“Smart ones do.”
He stared at her, his mouth abruptly gone dry. He was afraid to ask the obvious question, but he could not resist. “Mattie, is that how you look at me? Is that why you didn't want to give me a second chance? Is that why you wouldn't move to St. Gabe? You think there's nothing under my surface?”
She shook her head, then went to him in a soft little rush and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Oh, no, Hugh. You aren't anything like that. You're as solid as a rock.”
He grinned faintly in relief. “And just as dense?”
“Maybe. At times.” She lifted her face, smiling at him with misty green-gold eyes. “But I suppose you've found me a little dense lately, too, haven't you?”
“Nothing I can't work around.” His voice felt thick in his throat as he cradled her head in his hands. “Babe, I've got to go back out to the islands.”
“I knew you were going to say that. I know I can't talk you out of it. But I want you to take me with you,” she begged. “I can't stand the thought of waiting here, not knowing what you're doing or what kind of trouble you'll be facing. Let me come with you.”
He was startled. “Hell, I can't do that, babe.”
“At least let me come with you as far as St. Gabriel. I could wait there until you and Silk take care of this Rainbird person. Please, Hugh. You can't leave me behind. Not this time.”
“Not this time? Mattie, what are you saying? This isn't like the last time. There's no connection at all. It simply isn't safe. Christ, babe, I can't take you with me.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “That's what you said the last time.”
“It's not the same thing. Mattie, don't cry. For God's sake, don't cry, okay?”
“I want to go with you,” she said. “Please, Hugh. Take me with you. I'll be safe on St. Gabriel.”
“No, damn it.” He was beginning to get angry now. This was crazy. “No way. I don't want you anywhere near this. You're going to stay right here, safe and sound.”
“You can't make me stay here this time.”
“The hell I can't,” he shot back. He clamped his hands around her shoulders and gave her a small shake. Then he looked down into her tear-filled eyes. “Listen to me, babe. You're going to stay here and that's all there is to it. That's an order.”
“You're very good at giving orders, aren't you?” She sniffed and stepped back quickly away from him, dashing toward the little spiral staircase that led up to her sleeping loft.
Hugh watched her run up the metal steps and throw herself down onto the bed. Then she was out of his line of sight. But he could hear her sobbing into the pillow.
Not for the first time in his life, he felt like a real jerk. He went into the kitchen, tossed his unfinished wine down the sink, and poured himself a glass of whiskey.
Mattie was still sniffling up in the loft when he sat down near the phone and started thumbing through the yellow pages. Ten minutes later he had his flight booked to St. Gabriel. Another early morning departure.
Just like last time.
Hugh was sitting in the same chair, still working on the same glass of whiskey a half hour later when he heard muffled noises from the loft. He glanced up but still couldn't see Mattie. He went back to staring out the rain-lashed window and wished Rainbird were already in hell.
Mattie had been able to accept his past, Hugh realized. He was still dazed by that miraculous fact. But she seemed unable to forgive him for abandoning her a second time, even though it was for her own protection. He wished he could make her understand his own need to keep her safe.
She was not accustomed to being taken care of, he reminded himself. That was the crux of the problem. He had tried to tell her this wasn't like last time. He wanted to explain that for his own sanity he had to know she was thousands of miles away from Rainbird.
“Hugh?”
He heard the soft footsteps behind him, but he was reluctant to turn around and face her. He had handled a lot of things in his life, but he did not want to deal with the accusation he knew he would see in her eyes. “Yeah, babe?”
“When does your plane leave?” Mattie moved up behind him.
“Six.”
“I should have known.”
“Mattie, I'm sorry,” he said roughly. “But this is the way it has to be.”
There was a small silence. “You'll take care
of yourself?”
“Word of honor.”
“You'll come back to Seattle?”
“God, yes, babe. Count on it.” He did turn around then, and the first thing he saw was that she was smiling slightly.
The second thing he saw was that she had changed into the little red sarong she had worn that night on Hades.
“Jesus, babe.”
“I didn't want you to forget me,” she whispered as her arms slid around his neck.
“Never. No matter what happens.” He reached up and tumbled her down into his lap, kissing her with a hunger that he knew could only be temporarily assuaged, a hunger that would be with him all of his life. “I'll be back.”
Mattie refused to cry the next morning when she drove him to the airport. She kept a determined smile pasted to her face the whole time, even when she waved good-bye at the gate.
She did not allow the tears to fall until the jet had backed slowly away from the loading ramp and was headed for the runway. Then she went into the nearest ladies' room and sobbed for a long while.
When the tears were finally finished, she bathed her face in cold water and went back out to the parking lot to find her car.
He would be back, she told herself. He would not do something really stupid like get himself hurt. He had survived this long. No one could take care of himself as well as Hugh. He was a survivor.
But so, apparently, was this mysterious Rainbird.
Mattie parked the car back in the garage beneath her building and changed into a neat little gray checked business suit. Then she coiled her hair into its familiar bundle at the nape of her neck and left for the gallery. The only way she would stay reasonably sane until Hugh returned was to keep herself so busy she would have no time to think.
She phoned Charlotte later in the day and told her what had happened. Her aunt commiserated with her but seemed convinced Hugh would be fine.
“He's taken care of himself for quite a while. I'm sure he'll handle this little problem in no time,” Charlotte said. Then she hesitated. “So he finally told you about his mysterious past, did he?”
Silver Linings Page 26