Tempt the Night

by Dixie Lee Brown

  Frozen in place, tears rimming over and rolling down her cheeks, she’d slapped her hand over her mouth to keep her outrage at what had been done to him from escaping in groans of protest. Finally, she’d forced her feet to move, backing away until the voices receded, then glancing around to determine the best escape route.

  She hadn’t been quick enough. Walker had burst from the room with long strides and collided with her, his size and weight nearly sending her sprawling if he hadn’t reached out at the last second and steadied her.

  Clearly, he’d known immediately that she’d overheard at least part of their conversation. His obvious scorn and cold distrust had sent a shiver coursing down her spine. It had been an extremely personal confession from one friend to another . . . not intended for her ears. She understood that, and he wasn’t the only one who’d wished she hadn’t overheard. Still, his distrust had seemed excessive in the face of her minor indiscretion, and she’d been happy to stay as far from him as possible on the final leg of their trip.

  It went without saying that hiding behind a door outside Brady’s room wasn’t how she’d envisioned learning about his private hell. She’d wanted him to trust her enough to look her in the eyes and share that part of his life. This way it meant nothing . . . except an extra layer of guilt to carry around. She grappled with the likelihood that Walker would tell Brady she’d been eavesdropping. He’d no doubt be hurt, maybe angry—feel betrayed. No way was she coming out of this with a gold star.

  There was only one thing she could do. She had to tell Brady before Walker did.

  Finding a moment for a private conversation was easier said than done during a whirlwind trip on Joe’s private jet with six people, including one Nick Taylor making sure there was never any down time. Or in the black Hummer that met them at Joe’s secluded airfield, adding a driver by the name of Ty Whitlock to the roster. And now, sitting between Walker and Brady in the second row of seats, she was about to enter the grounds of Joe’s ranch, a few miles outside of Kalispell, Montana.

  It was dusk. The sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, leaving a pink and reddish glow in the predark sky. Silhouettes of trees and mountains stood watch in the distance. A chain link fence, topped with a strand of razor wire, stretched as far as Mac could see in both directions. Even though the gate stood open, she didn’t get a cozy, welcoming vibe as they drove through. When the gate closed behind them with a metallic clank, she jumped and probably would have had a panic attack right there if Brady hadn’t calmly laced his fingers with hers.

  “It’s a good place, Mac. You’ll like it. The house is big and comfortable, with lots of room. Most of the hired help stays there so there’s always people coming and going. Joe also trains certain government employees in basic survival skills, among other things, so there are usually a few students hanging around. Everyone eats at the house, but the students stay in the bunker out back.” He leaned closer, and his whispered words were for her ears only. “Relax, sugar. It’s going to be all right.”

  Whether his pep talk had made her less apprehensive was doubtful, but she smiled into his eyes in silent appreciation for the effort.

  “The gate keeps unauthorized people out. Doesn’t mean you can’t go into town or for a walk around the lake.” Joe, looking back from the front seat, picked up the running narrative where Brady left off, making an obvious effort to include Maria, sitting in the third row of seats with Nick. “Tomorrow, Brady will give you the access code and explain the buddy system we’ll use until we’re sure you’re both out of danger.”

  “All I care about is seeing my son.” Anticipation rang in Maria’s words.

  Joe nodded. “That’s what this was all about. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want, so you’ll have to tell me when you’re ready to figure out the next step.” Joe’s phone chirped, and he fished it from his shirt pocket. He studied the lighted screen for a few seconds, then typed in a return message.

  Dropping the phone back in his pocket, he swiveled in the seat, and it was clear he now spoke to Walker, Brady, Nick, and Ty. “Change of plans. We’ve got company. An acquaintance of mine—Guy Hanford—special agent with the State Department. I’ve worked with him before. Rayna said he called right after Ty left to pick us up and wanted to talk. She told him we were a ways out yet, but he said it was urgent, and he wanted to come out and wait.”

  Walker snorted sarcastically. “If it’s so urgent, why didn’t he call you directly?”

  Mac could tell by the silent confirmation that passed between the two men that Joe was equally suspicious. The way he avoided her eyes when his gaze swept to Brady made her wonder if there wasn’t more to his concern—something to do with her and Maria.

  “Turns out he wasn’t alone. He brought three bodyguards trying to pass as civil servants and a Mexican diplomat of some sort.”

  At the gasp from the back of the vehicle, Joe and everyone in the second row turned to stare at Maria.

  “Does that mean something to you?” That tick in Brady’s jaw was making itself known.

  The Hummer turned the final corner, giving Mac a view of a lovely three-story house surrounded by expanses of well-kept green grass and beds of wildflowers. It would have been enough to take her breath away if she hadn’t been so focused on the black SUV with government plates parked in front.

  The fear in Maria’s eyes was unmistakable. Did she know who this diplomat was? A shiver of apprehension ran through Mac. Could it be only a coincidence that Hernandez, the man who was looking for them, was Mexican and there was an ambassador of Mexican descent waiting in Joe’s house? Common sense said no. There was every possibility that the man waiting for them was responsible for Paddy’s murder. Mac stared at the seat in front of her but saw only the upstairs room at the fish packing plant and her best friend barely clinging to life.

  Brady squeezed her hand, searching her eyes with concern in his, and brought her back to the present.

  She met the other woman’s gaze, speaking softly. “They want to help, Maria. You can’t let them walk in there blind. You have to answer their questions.”

  Maria was breathing erratically, clearly anxious. “Raul Hernandez is the Mexican Ambassador to the United States . . . but how would he know where to find us?”

  “I think the question is . . . why has he gone to so much trouble to find us?” Brady turned toward the front.

  Ty pulled up beside the SUV and parked. No one made a move to get out.

  Joe stared toward the house. “Okay, Maria has left a few holes in her story, but we know enough not to trust him. I want him and his goons out of my house for now. Maria can enlighten us later. Here’s how this’ll go down.” He swiveled his head, and his gaze swept over Mac. “Brady will take the women in the back door and upstairs. Rayna sent Sanchez up to hang out with Marco out of an abundance of caution. He’s in the room next to mine.”

  His gaze locked on Brady. “We’ll give ’em a few more minutes to stew until you get back downstairs, then go in together. Nick . . . this is what you came to see, so you might as well tag along.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Nick said.

  “Let’s do it.” Walker opened his door, a grin lighting his eyes as he stepped out, turning to pull his seatback forward, allowing Maria and Nick to exit. On Mac’s other side, Brady jerked the door handle with his right hand and turned to look at her. Joe and Ty stepped out, leaving her and Brady alone in the vehicle.

  “Mac?” Brady slid his arm around her shoulders. “He’s not going to hurt you. We’re going to take care of this. Come with me, and I won’t leave your side until you feel safe.”

  She tried, but she couldn’t move. A sea of anger roiled within her, and caution was apparently the first thing to be tossed overboard. If the person responsible for the plot to kill Paddy was in that house, she had to see him. More accurately, he had to see that she wasn’t afraid. Ridiculous, of course, because her knees were shaking even now, but this was something she had to
do for Paddy.

  “No!” Mac struggled to get the word out. As a result, it was louder and more desperate than she’d anticipated.

  Brady’s other arm came around her, enveloping her in his warmth. Joe, Walker, and the rest turned to stare.

  Brady laid his forehead against hers. “Talk to me, Mac. What’s going on?” His voice was calm and patient, as though they had all the time in the world to debate her sanity.

  Mac leaned into him. He probably didn’t know how his kindness grounded her. Someday maybe she’d tell him. “I have to see him, Brady. I need to look Hernandez in the face and make him understand he’s not going to get away with killing my best friend.”

  “It’s not a good idea, Mac. We don’t know what they’ve got in mind or how far they’re willing to go to finish what they started. It could be dangerous. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

  His protectiveness and concern went straight to her heart, starting a strange ache. She appreciated the way he always seemed to put her safety first—like she was important. Maybe she was . . . in his short-term world, but it didn’t stop the burning in her gut. She raised her gaze to his. “I know . . . I know you’re right, but I can’t . . . I have to see the bastard.”

  Brady frowned and looked through the windshield to where Joe waited.

  “Let her come.” Walker peered through the door on her right, his expression unreadable.

  A shiver vibrated through Mac, and she briefly pondered his motives, but surely his animosity didn’t extend to hoping she’d get herself killed. She met Joe’s gaze through the window.

  “Up to you, Jim. You’ve managed to keep her alive so far.” Joe turned toward the house.

  Mac swept her gaze back to Brady. She straightened her spine and raised her head. “I can do this.”

  The muscle worked in his jaw—a habit she was starting to associate with concern. She hated worrying him, yet it warmed her insides to think he cared.

  “I have to, Brady.”

  He shook his head and exhaled slowly. “Don’t leave my side.” He barked out the words.

  Was he irritated with her? “I won’t. I need you beside me.” Mac looked away but still felt his piercing stare. After a couple of seconds, he released her and offered his hand. She placed hers firmly in his, and together they stepped out of the vehicle.

  Joe had everyone gathered close to the house. “Ty took Maria upstairs. He’ll be back as soon as he delivers her to Sanchez.” As Joe finished speaking, Ty appeared around the corner of the house.

  “All right. Everybody ready?” Joe looked directly at Mac.

  She nodded, afraid her voice would quaver if she spoke.

  “Stay with me.” Brady brushed his arm against hers.

  Nick stepped forward as soon as the door opened, following Joe and Walker into the house. Mac and Brady went next, and Ty brought up the rear.

  Inside, they were met by a beautiful blonde woman dressed in a black tank top and camouflage shorts. She spoke quietly with Joe for a few seconds before falling in beside him as he strode down a hallway to the right and threw open the first door on the left. Mac could see a desk, stacked with papers and ringed by chairs, toward the back of the room. Five men turned simultaneously and stared.

  Joe pushed forward, going directly to a stocky man of medium height in his midforties, with a full and unruly head of black hair. “Hanford, I’m confused. You know me, and you know how I work. Yet you brought strangers into my house without my okay?” Joe stopped three feet away, and his gaze flickered over the man’s entourage.

  A head shorter than Joe and clearly nervous, the man he’d addressed as Hanford looked as though he couldn’t find the right place for his hands and a lot like he’d be happy to crawl into a hole if the opportunity presented itself. Mac almost laughed at the way Joe’s words made him squirm.

  Then her gaze landed on the man who could be none other than the diplomat. Five-ten or eleven, well-muscled build, brown skin, wavy black hair, and dark, piercing eyes that stared at her with such intensity she shuddered. His three creepy associates were positioned close beside him.

  Hanford finally found his voice. “Joe, I’d like you to meet Raul Hernandez, the Mexican Ambassador to the United States.”

  Joe barely glanced toward the man who stood a couple of feet away.

  “Ambassador Hernandez is here on a matter of some urgency, and under the circumstances, I thought you’d want to speak to him without delay.” Hanford recovered his confidence and even managed a smirk.

  Walker and Rayna fanned out to the right, parallel to the wall. Ty and Nick followed suit on the left. Mac and Brady stood together, front and center, and Hernandez still stared brazenly across the room at her. Beside her, Brady evidently noticed. He tensed, and a growl vibrated low in his chest.

  Hernandez abruptly dropped his gaze, turned, and strode toward Joe. “Mr. Reynolds, please don’t hold Special Agent Hanford responsible. I convinced him to help me gain an audience with you.” He offered his hand.

  Joe ignored the overture, his gaze traveling from the man’s outstretched hand upward to his face. “By all means, let’s hear what you have to say, Ambassador.”

  Hernandez beamed as though he’d just been paid the highest compliment. “I knew you were a reasonable man who would help me if you can. First, I wish to give you some information that could save lives.” He swung his arm toward Mac. “You have a cold-blooded murderer in your midst.” His voice boomed.

  Mac stumbled backward a step, shocked at his public attack, and might have lost her balance if Brady hadn’t caught her around the waist.

  He leaned close. “Easy, Mac. Look him in the eye. Don’t back down.” His words were only a breath at her ear.

  Right. Easier said than done once she’d already failed the test, but she stood tall, fisted her hands at her sides, and met Hernandez’s gaze. Tension rolled off the occupants of the room, and Brady was no exception.

  Joe’s voice was hard-edged and cold. “Worming your way in here and making allegations about one of my invited guests is two strikes against you. Make it three, and you’re out. If I were you, I’d think long and hard about whatever you were going to say next.”

  Hernandez folded his hands behind his back and studied his shoes. “My apologies, Mr. Reynolds. It was not my intention to accuse anyone. Only to point out that your guest bears a remarkable likeness to someone the Alaska State Troopers have launched an extensive manhunt for.”

  Mac was livid. With each sophisticated-sounding word, she wanted to pummel Hernandez’s superior expression. When she leaned forward, preparing to take the first of many steps to do just that, Brady’s fingers shoved inside the back waistband of her jeans and kept her from moving.

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me what this person did to deserve all of this attention?” Joe’s gaze shifted to the three uneasy bodyguards and then back to Hernandez.

  The ambassador smirked. “Since you asked, I’d be derelict in my responsibilities if I didn’t. According to the official police report, this . . . person laid waiting in the dark and killed two state troopers.”

  Joe’s brow rose. “No shit? That would be quite a feat . . . for someone the size and strength of my guest.”

  “On the contrary. It takes no particular strength to stab one of them in the back and shoot the other, especially if the killer knew her victims and was able to get close to them without raising their suspicions.”

  A moan of protest escaped Mac, drawing a sharp warning glance from Joe, and Brady rubbed her lower back, reminding her he was still close beside her.

  “Thanks for the personal notice.” Walker stared them down as Hernandez and his men swiveled and appraised the new speaker. “We’ll be on the lookout for anything suspicious. If that’s all, I’m happy to show you and your goons out now.”

  “If you’ll allow me a few more minutes of your time, there is something else.” Hernandez swung toward Joe.

  Raising his hands partway, Joe shr
ugged.

  “Two years ago, my wife abducted my son. Today, they took refuge with you.”

  Brady tensed beside Mac, and energy practically sizzled from his coiled muscles. She shared his shock and disbelief. Was he really Marco’s father? If so, Maria must have had a good reason for taking off with her son. Hernandez was a liar and a murderer. What more did they need to know? Maria was obviously terrified of the man.

  “Are you telling me that Maria Alverez is your wife?” Joe was apparently surprised too.

  “That’s not the name she went by back then, but we can go with that if you wish. Yes, Maria is my wife, and Marco is my son. I only ask to be allowed to speak with her . . . alone.”

  “No!” Mac’s outburst startled even herself. She sensed everyone’s gaze on her and rejected the urge to lean into Brady.

  His hand on her back flexed ever so faintly, as though he could infuse her with his strength. “Tell him, Mac.” The trust in his eyes warmed her everywhere his glance fell.

  Her breath trembled even though she despised herself for it. “This is the creep Maria’s afraid of. She won’t let him near her son. Hernandez is a liar. We already know that, but that’s not the worst of it. He’s responsible for Officer Patrick Callahan’s murder.” Mac started out looking at Brady—talking to him—but before she finished, she was staring straight into the cold, scornful eyes of Ambassador Hernandez.

  “That’s quite an accusation coming from you, Ms. McCallister.” His lips twisted in a snarl.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet. I won’t stop until you’re behind bars.” Mac smiled icily. He was just a bully—nothing more.

  “I’m afraid your efforts will be wasted. I’m sure you’ve heard of diplomatic immunity.” He threw his head back and laughed.

  Mac inhaled sharply. Of course, she’d heard of it. She just hadn’t thought of it in this context. Surely it couldn’t be possible that this evil man would get away with murder. Her gaze flew to Brady.

  His touch on her back reassured her as he stared soberly at the ambassador. “That’s a fucking riot, Hernandez. Still, you might want to show a little more respect for Ms. McCallister.”