The Mercenary

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  The anger that ran through his blood disturbed Tyler. He’d always been a little gung-ho about injustice, but this was more than that. And he couldn’t explain it. He couldn’t examine the situation, define it, square it away. And he didn’t like it.

  “Eventually the stories made it back to my parents. My cousin Valencia, the one in Belize, had married into a family with some connections. That’s how I was able to go there for school, then a year in the United States before I finished abroad. I met Gerald in London. He proposed quickly because he was being assigned to Washington. I believed him, you see, when he told me he couldn’t bear to go without me.” Her lips twisted. “I was young. Stupid.”

  “How long were you together?”

  “Eleven months and fourteen days too long,” she said flatly. “Things went wrong almost from the start. The very things about me that Gerald had said he’d loved were the very things he complained most about. My accent. My heritage. He didn’t even seem to—” She broke off, flushing. “I’m talking too much.”

  Tyler brushed his thumb over her satiny cheek. “Tell me.”

  Her throat worked. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were full of pain. “He…unless he was upset about something, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to touch me. Before long, I didn’t want him to, anyway.”

  The man was a fool as well as a lunatic, Tyler thought. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be, Marisa.” Not that he was any expert on family matters. Not when his own parents hadn’t bothered to hang around.

  She made a soft sound, blew out a long breath. “Anyway, the rumors that Gerald spread reached my family’s ears, thanks to Valencia, and my mother was disgraced. I was their eldest child. Not a male who could take over my father’s farm one day. The only thing I was supposed to do was eventually make a good marriage, and in their eyes…well, my mother’s mainly, I had screwed that up.”

  “How’d you break away from Hyde-Smith?”

  “I sold my engagement ring. Ambassador Torres’s personal secretary helped me find a jewelry dealer who would give me a fair price. I used the money to move out. I was fired the next day for my—” her jaw worked “—unsuitable conduct. And still, when Gerald found out I’d left, he was angry.”

  Her gaze turned inward, making Tyler want to tear the other man’s limbs from his body. He could see in her expression just what form that anger had taken.

  She moistened her lips and cleared her throat. “After that, I went to the hospital, so there were records of his behavior. And I threatened to go the media if he continued to stalk me. Apparently his self-preservation outweighed his possessiveness, and he let me go. But it was already too late for my job. I had no money…I’d had to use it for the medical expenses.”

  “You didn’t come back here.”

  “My mother made it clear that I wasn’t welcome. I’d failed, you see. I’d had the opportunity to have a rich and important husband, and I blew it.”

  “You never told them what he was really like.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered, Tyler,” Marisa said tiredly. “She would never have believed that someone like Gerald could be so…twisted. And while Papa is very traditional, he leaves everything but the farm to my mother. Mama is… How can I explain her? Inflexible. And the truth of the matter was that I couldn’t wait to get out of Mezcaya.” She blinked and looked away, and a slow tear crept down her cheek. “I just didn’t expect the cost to be so high.”

  Tyler sighed and did the only thing he could do. He pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest with one arm, and the baby with the other. He didn’t want her going into la Fortuna, but he was damned if he knew how to prevent it.

  Marisa’s arms slid around his waist.

  It was comfortable and tormenting all in one, he decided. “How’d you get roped into this mission, then?”

  She sighed a little. “When Ambassador Torres notified me that he knew of a job I could help with, I jumped at the opportunity. He was retiring right about the time I left Gerald, you see. But he’d learned about me selling my ring and some of the reason why, and though his influence was limited, he said my assistance on your mission would definitely get me back in.”

  “And that’s all you want?”

  She hesitated for a moment. “Yes.”

  Then Nicholas plopped his hands on Marisa’s head and bobbled forward, kissing her, and the bubble of tension that had formed around them was broken.

  Marisa let out a long breath and smiled at the child, running her fingers down the boy’s cheek. “Nicholas looks just like Luis did.”

  “Luis?”

  “My brother. The one who died from snakebite. Had he lived, he’d be twenty-three now.”

  “You didn’t say that it was your brother who died.”

  “He was just a sweet little boy.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “We all were.”

  He couldn’t stand the sad memories in her eyes. “And Diego is what? Twenty, twenty-one?”

  “Twenty-two. His wife, Teresa, is my age. Diego and Nicholas are staying with my parents until she returns from a trip to California. Usually they live with her parents in the village. Then there is Manuel and his wife, Sara. She’s pregnant with their first baby.”

  “And Inez. What about Lydia? The little blond girl who was on your lap the day I came to. I’ve seen her several times since then.”

  Marisa’s expression closed. “Lydia is Franco’s. He’s gone now.” She stepped back and smiled, but there was no real humor in it. “My father has cousins who live in the village and work the fields with him when they can. That’s why there always seems to be a steady stream of people coming and going. And that’s my family history, such as it is. What about you?”

  He started walking. “What about me?”

  “Oh, Murdoch, please. Don’t act dense, it doesn’t become you.”

  “I don’t know who my dad was, and my mother got tired of that particular job early on. She preferred the bright lights of the city to parent-teacher conferences and took off.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. That’s it.”

  She tsked. “Murdoch—”

  “Diego said there is somebody in the village with a truck they might sell.”

  Her stomach tightened.

  “I want to leave tomorrow.”

  “How did I know you were going to say that?”

  “I’m predictable, remember?”

  Nine

  Marisa may have believed that her family welcomed her back only because of him, but that night said differently.

  It was as if, from the moment Marisa broke the news to her abuela that they were leaving the next day to continue their “vacation,” the entire family—extended and otherwise—threw themselves into one huge spontaneous celebration to wish them well.

  Marisa had finally gotten him aside to explain that it was more a celebration of their “marriage” than anything else. “We’ll have great food at least.”

  And they did. Marisa’s grandmother outdid herself. Tyler didn’t think he’d ever eaten so much in his life. There’d been plenty of barbecues and parties back home in Mission Creek, but there had been none quite like what he experienced that night.

  If there was one thing he could say about the Rodriguez clan, it was that they definitely knew how to party.

  He just wished his “wife” were able to enjoy it a little more. She’d picked at her meal, and her smile was strained. Every time Belicia approached Marisa, she grew a little more pale, until he couldn’t stand another minute of it. He leaned over to Inez and whispered in her ear, knowing that the teenager would quickly spread the gossip that her brother-in-law was taking his wife away from the crowds because he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

  Then he turned to Marisa and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”

  She looked up at him, surprised. “Where?”

  “Anywhere away from here.” He tugged, and with a little shrug, she f
ollowed him. By some unspoken agreement, they headed up to the road they’d taken earlier that day. The more distance they put between themselves and the revelry that wasn’t dimmed one bit by their departure, the more Marisa’s tension eased until she no longer seemed to vibrate from it.

  “Better?” he finally asked, when they were well away from the music and laughter and voices.

  She nodded. “Yes. How did you know?”

  Nobody else had seemed to notice Marisa’s increasingly obvious discomfort. “Wild guess.”

  She tucked her hand in his arm and pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “Right. How is it that a decent guy lurks inside you, Murdoch?”

  “Damn if I know.”

  At that, she chuckled. Then sighed. “Look at the stars, Tyler. They’re so clear and close here. It’s always been like that.”

  “And you still wanted to get away.”

  “Yes. I did. And I guess, maybe, I’m finally getting beyond the need to apologize for that.”

  “Good.”

  “Is everything so cut and dried for you?”

  “Me?” He liked the feel of her arm in his, and when she started to move away, he stopped her from doing so. “I’ve got friends and I’ve got my career. Don’t need much else.”

  “And of course you don’t need love,” she commented dryly. “That would be too much for the guy who doesn’t trust women.”

  “I’ve got enough buddies biting the love-bullet lately, thanks.”

  “You’re such a romantic, Murdoch.”

  “What? I like their women okay. Josie and Ellen. They’re the ones who’ve made mincemeat of Flynt and Spence’s bachelorhood. Next thing I know they’ll be messing with our Sunday round of golf, too.”

  Her laughter was soft. “You’re having me on, now.”

  Having her had been on his mind way too much lately. And he suddenly wondered about the wisdom of getting her away from her family for a while.

  She veered from the road, and silent now, he followed her up the steep path. She didn’t stop until they came out on an outcropping of rocks that overlooked a small valley. In the distance he could see the moonlight shining on water.

  “That’s the waterfall over there,” she told him. “You can’t quite see anything but the river below it from here, though. I used to come here when I was a child. I always loved the view. It’s so…open here. More so than anywhere else around here, anyway.”

  “And you would dream about a life somewhere other than here.”

  Marisa closed her eyes. “Yes,” she admitted softly. He moved up onto the grass beside her and sat. She felt that hollow feeling deep inside her and knew it had nothing whatsoever to do with not eating much at dinner. It was hunger of an entirely different sort.

  “I wanted out, too,” he said after a moment. “After my mom skipped, I ended up in foster homes until I graduated from high school. After that, getting into VMI was like a…I don’t know. A reprieve from hell. The service suited me. It became my family.”

  Marisa tucked her knees beneath her long skirt. She couldn’t help it. She reached over and touched his hand. She knew he was thinking about his friends, and about Westin. “I’m sorry things haven’t gone as well here as you’d hoped.” But when she would have removed her hand, he turned his over, catching her fingers in his.

  Her breath stalled in her throat. It was dark, and there on her small patch of land where she’d spent so many nights dreaming of far-off places, it seemed far too intimate.

  “You saved my life.” His thumb brushed, back and forth, over her palm, scrambling her thoughts.

  “Returning the favor,” she managed.

  His thumb moved up, grazed the sensitive flesh of her inner wrist. She swallowed. Her fingers curled.

  “I don’t want you going with me into la Fortuna.”

  The fog of desire warred with the sharp pain his words caused. “Still, after everything, you can say that.” She pulled at her wrist, but he held on fast.

  “You’ve been through enough without adding a jaunt like this that may or may not end well.”

  “That’s my decision, Tyler. Not yours. I can take care of myself.”

  “Can you? I can’t be worrying about you when I’ve got Westin to deal with.”

  “I’m not asking you to worry about me.”

  “Dammit, Marisa, that’s just it. I can’t help it where you’re concerned.”

  She swallowed. “If you’d said that two weeks ago, I’d never have trusted a word of it.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I do.”

  “Good.” Satisfaction rolled through Tyler. “There’s not much I can do about your family, I know. But I’m not without my own share of influence. I’ll make sure the ambassador knows all that you’ve done. You’ll never have to waitress and do oddball translating jobs again. Not unless you want to. And if it doesn’t work out with the Embassy for some reason, I’ve got other connections.”

  She was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about getting things turned around for you.”

  “You’re talking about doing things that I am perfectly capable of doing myself! Tyler, I don’t need you to save me. What I need is for you to let me do what I’m here to do!”

  “What? Go into la Fortuna and get yourself killed?”

  “That is ridiculous! It’s more likely that you’d get yourself killed, and you darned well know it.”

  “I don’t want to chance you getting hurt.” He couldn’t get past it. That was all there was to it.

  “Murdoch—”

  He caught her hand. “Marisa, think about it. I’ll make sure the powers-that-be know how much you helped. You’ll have your career back.”

  “You need me.”

  “More than that I need you to be safe.”

  “Why? We’ve come this far, surely—”

  “You know why.”

  Her lips parted and she stared at his hand, wrapped warm and strong around her wrist. The moon shone down, clear and white. Her heartbeat tripped unevenly as that strong, excruciatingly masculine hand slid up her forearm, grazed over her elbow and curled gently around her upper arm. Her nipples tightened against the cool cotton of her dress.

  “I won’t betray you like Sonya did,” she whispered.

  “I know.” His thumb continued taunting her senses as it slowly moved along her arm, brushing the outer curve of her breast. “You want to go around in circles the rest of the night?”

  Her throat tightened. “No.”

  His head lowered until she felt the warmth of his breath on her temple. “What do you want?”

  Her eyelids felt weighted. It was a good thing she was sitting, because she felt decidedly lightheaded. “Tyler,” she breathed. “Please, I…”

  “Just say it, Marisa.” His low murmur sent shivers dancing down her back, almost as if he’d drawn his fingertips down her spine. “I won’t take what you don’t offer.”

  “I know.” Forming the words seemed ridiculously difficult. He wasn’t Gerald. He’d never stoop to force. He’d never need to.

  After a moment, he stood, and the movement was easy and full of caged energy, proving more than anything that he was physically ready to finish the mission to save Westin whether or not the cut on his shoulder was fully healed. His fingers circled her wrists and he drew her to her feet. The flowing folds of the skirt swished around her calves, sounding loud in the still night.

  His chest lifted in a long breath that he exhaled slowly. “Okay.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re right. This is a bad idea.” He turned to go.

  As she watched him walk away, her voice finally broke free. “Tyler.”

  She saw his shoulders stiffen. She thought he would keep going, but he didn’t. He turned to look at her. His jaw was so tight, his eyes so shadowed, that she wanted to weep for all the loss and lack she knew he’d endured in his life.

  She moistened her lips, an
d slowly pulled her arms free of the ruffled bodice.

  He went utterly still.

  She drew the dress downward, until it was at her waist, then slid the fabric farther, past her hips. It fell, unfettered, to the ground beneath her bare feet, sighing into a puddle of midnight cotton.

  Tyler couldn’t speak to save his soul as Marisa stood there, naked but for the moonlight bathing her golden body in silver. The fine chain around her neck glistened.

  “I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” she said huskily. “Just for tonight, Tyler. Don’t go.”

  She was so beautiful, she made him ache in ways that went beyond the physical. Every speck of common sense told him to walk away. No matter that he’d basically forced the issue, he still knew he shouldn’t touch her. She deserved more than he could ever give her.

  He was a soldier. Half his life was spent on the road, involved in work that the rest of the decent world couldn’t even acknowledge a need for.

  As if sensing the struggle inside him, Marisa stepped beyond the drift of dress and took one step, then another, toward him. “Show me how it is supposed to be, Tyler.”

  She continued forward, until the hair springing back from her temples brushed his chin. He could feel her breath, warm and sweet, on his collarbone.

  Then she reached for his shirt. She tugged and he lowered his head, letting her pull it off. Which she did with that blend of earnestness and earthiness that never failed to arouse him.

  When she began unfastening his jeans, he closed his eyes, sucking in his breath at her delicate touch. Her fingers faltered, her sudden uncertainty nearly visible.

  “No one’s ever done that before,” he muttered.

  “Done what?”

  “Undressed me.”

  Her lashes lowered slowly. “Not even…”

  “Not even.” He drew her hands back, felt them curl warmly into the waist of his jeans. “Maybe there are some things left for you to show me.”