A Love Beyond

by Leslie P. García

  At least that’s what he’d been told by Mike and by María. Rosa had always defended Gina. Now, though, the question was moot, and he didn’t need one more worry fueling his frequent headaches.

  He frowned as AJ reached the stables and disappeared. No woman had intrigued him as she did—not good. He couldn’t afford distraction. Couldn’t afford discovery. His uncle’s fate depended on him hanging close to Towers until he found something, anything, to prove that Towers, not his uncle, had been behind the insurance fraud. Desire, lust—heck, whatever it was that had jolted through him from head to foot with a light touch of AJ’s hand, there was no place for that here. Now.

  The soft knock at his door startled him. He turned as Rosa pushed the door open and came in.

  “What’s up?” he asked, and she gave him a subdued smile and brief headshake.

  “Nada,” she said, coming over to where he stood. She glanced out the window. “Problems?”

  “No,” he lied. “Just doing my job.”

  “As I am,” she murmured.

  He turned away from the window, letting the drapes fall to cover the window. He didn’t want her to see AJ slipping around outside. He knew that Rosa worked for Towers out of need. At least, Rosa told him that shortly after he met her. At first, she said, the salary allowed her to support her ailing mother while attending college at odd hours. He understood that part. But Rosa had finished four years of college. Sadly, she lost her mother along the way. She didn’t have to be here. And that made him suspect that she, too, had an ulterior motive. But what she could be seeking remained a puzzle. Before her death, he supposed Gina’s friendship had played a part. The two women had been good friends from the time they met. Another mystery. Why would Rosa defend Gina, who had apparently done so much harm to the small circle of people around her? Anyone who maligned Gina—and from María to Mike to jealous women attending functions at the Towers’s properties, people spoke ill of her—received scathing rebukes from Rosa. Now, with Gina gone, Rosa lived for Gordito, to the extent that strangers might think the child was hers. But was the baby the only reason she stayed here, working as a maid, when she could have taken better positions elsewhere?

  Too many puzzles. He sighed. “What’s up?” he repeated.

  “You like her,” Rosa said with certainty. “AJ.”

  “Yes.” He grinned at her, reached out to touch her cheek. “I like you, too, Rosa. But—”

  She waggled a finger at him. “Never mind! I don’t want to hear again about all your good reasons for us not to be lovers. But Chance, you know that you can’t have her either. The boss—”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “Not to worry. I’m smarter than I look.” She giggled at that and went over to sit on the bed. He knew something was on her mind, because she made no effort at all to attract him. To seduce him.

  “So are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” he asked gently, sitting beside her, but not too close.

  “It’s Gordito,” she admitted, her voice full of concern.

  “He’s sick?” Chance hoped not; the little guy was a joy to be around. All chubby innocence and laughter.

  “No.” She turned troubled brown eyes on him. “He lives like a prisoner. You know how the boss is about him. I worry that if he ever wanders downstairs …” Her voice trailed off.

  “Come on, Rosa. You don’t really think Mike would hurt his own son, do you?”

  Rosa’s tone was derisive. “His own son? You know that he doesn’t even acknowledge that.”

  Chance considered her answer for a moment. “Tell me,” he said, finally, “what do you think?”

  She stood up, paced around the room with some agitation. “No se,” she admitted, finally. “But he’s Gina’s son and that’s enough for me. I don’t trust el patron. He doesn’t like children.”

  “But do you think Towers is his father?” Chance pressed.

  Rosa didn’t immediately answer. Finally she sighed softly. “If so, I pity mi chiquito,” she murmured. “Gina was not a tramp, Chance. She, like me, like many of us, was a desperate woman—not a bad one. She told me that she never slept with anyone except her husband.”

  “Yet she died in another man’s car. A man Towers claimed was her lover. And I saw them together, sometimes. Not intimately, no. But … together.”

  “Would you blame someone—anyone—for trying to escape Mike Towers, even for a bit? She should never have had the baby here. On the U.S. side, divorce would have been possible. Here, she lost her power to fight, Chance. She was not some demented woman who could risk her child for her own well-being.” She stopped in front of him and caught his hand. “You will help me, yes? You will help keep Towers away from mi Gordito?”

  Her little one. The words reminded Chance once again of the Llorona legend. Women and children—bonds that gave life. Or destroyed it. What would happen to Rosa if she ever lost Gordito? Now that he knew who AJ really was, Rosa would have to give the little boy up. Mike Towers denied being Gordito’s father. But AJ—AJ was the boy’s aunt, and sooner rather than later, Rosa would lose any right to keep the baby.

  • • •

  Rebel moved restlessly around the stall, snorting and pawing. AJ crooned soothing words, but something had spooked the stallion. Big time. She hadn’t seen him so edgy since the last time she’d watched him enter a starting gate. He never started well, not liking the cramped metal quarters and the chaos around him. But he should have listened to her here, in this roomy, well-padded box.

  “Honestly, boy, you’d think you’d seen a ghost!” she scolded, easing out of the stall and latching the gate. No matter how well she knew Rebel, an agitated stallion posed safety risks. No good would come of being trampled under his quick hooves.

  She took a deep breath, then released it slowly, watching as Rebel continued to snort and pace nervously. The stall was carefully enough constructed that he couldn’t hurt himself, as far as she could see, so she gently closed the upper half of the door, hoping that screening him from any further distraction would calm him. Idly, she looked around the barn. No noise came from any of the other stalls; only Rebel seemed upset and edgy. If there were a ghost, only he must have seen it.

  Gina’s ghost? She shivered in suddenly chill air around her. Stupid. There is no ghost. No Llorona. Nothing but the memories of a vibrant young woman no longer alive. No longer there with that smile that dazzled and that wink that made the world smile back. Blinded by tears, she turned from the stall door and took a few unsure steps.

  “Hola, señorita.” The soft, jeering Spanish stopped her in her tracks. She blinked hard, clearing her eyes, and looked up at the man standing in front of her. He was tall and lean, with an untrimmed mustache, a recent scar across one bronzed cheek, and cold, hard eyes. She hadn’t seen him before, although his disreputable appearance made her think of Jaime, Towers’s other bodyguard.

  She nodded coolly. “Señor.” Her heart thudded in her chest, but she managed to maintain her composure, even as she wondered how this man had breached security to be here. Dammit! Where was Chance when she needed him? The man stood there, leering, apparently not afraid to be seen.

  “May I help you?” she asked, pointedly. He laughed and chills ran up and down her arms. Towers was oily evil; this man was blatantly evil. “Mira, señor—”

  “No, Miss, you look,” he interrupted, mockingly, in heavily accented but clearly understood English. “You need not worry.” His eyes swept over her body insultingly. “I’m not here for a woman—not la mujer de mi patron.”

  The man’s vulgar contempt infuriated her. And frightened her, but might be her only protection. He looked vicious—capable of anything. And he had gotten past the dogs and night watchman. He had gotten past Chance.

  A shiver shook her again. How could he have gotten past Chance? Very little did. She thought of Chance rummaging in the file cabinet. Insurance fraud. He’d mentioned that. Why? Her chest tightened and breathing normally took effort. Was this man in cahoots with Ch
ance? Could Chance possibly intend to do something to Towers’s horses? To Rebel?

  No. He had nothing to gain. After all, the insurance policies couldn’t be in Chance’s name. Surely Towers wouldn’t kill stallions for the insurance money. He didn’t need money.

  She took a few steps forward, refusing to be cowed. “Unless you have business, you should leave,” she warned. “I’m calling security.”

  He laughed again. “You call,” he invited, with a threatening smile that bared stained, yellow teeth. She headed on toward the door, keeping from hurrying her steps. As she reached the door, she glanced over her shoulder. The man was gone.

  Nearby, she saw the night watchman, patrolling with one of the Dobermans. She started to call out, but quickly changed her mind. The man might have dodged into the corridor to the office, but she didn’t think so. He’d escaped into the night somehow. Telling the night watchman would just call unwelcome attention to herself. When she saw him turn her way, she raised a hand in his direction, and after peering toward her, he nodded and waved back.

  Chance. She didn’t know him. Couldn’t trust him. But there was no one else she could tell. With a final glance around, she hurried toward the house.

  • • •

  Rain spattered against the windowpane and lightning turned the sky blue. AJ couldn’t sleep. She stood by the glass, looking out, annoyed at herself. Lord knows, she’d seen worse storms. Summers in Florida were a nightmare. She even knew of horses struck in pastures, unable to escape nature’s fury. But she also remembered how seldom it stormed in the border area and how quickly the flat ground flooded. After the day’s chaotic events, she would have liked nothing better than a quiet night sky to lull her into sleep. Besides, too much rain would ruin Rebel’s rescue. Even tonight’s rain might stir up debris, increasing the risk to a Thoroughbred’s fragile legs. Would it be wrong to pray for the drought to continue just a few days longer?

  She didn’t hear the slight knock at her door at first, not over the relentless drum of rain punctuated by loud thunder claps. When the sound came again, with renewed insistence, she turned, slightly startled, then walked over and pulled the door open.

  “I heard you were looking for me,” Chance said, stepping into the room without an invitation. Drops of water glinted in his dark hair and his shirt clung to him. He apparently noticed her appraisal, because he smiled wryly. “Duty called. I stepped out to have a look around.”

  “Without an umbrella? Or a raincoat?”

  His half-smile broadened into a grin. “Umbrellas attract lightning and raincoats are for wimps and city boys.” The grin faded. “But you shouldn’t lecture me on foolish endeavors, my dear. AJ, you’re pushing your luck wandering around this place alone. Especially at night. The dogs—”

  “Forget the dogs!” She brushed past him and closed the door. He quirked an eyebrow in her direction, but she ignored that. “Look, Chance, I don’t know whether or not to tell you this, but there was a man in the barn. A strange man.”

  “What?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Not a hired hand, someone you just hadn’t seen there before?”

  “No. I’m sure he shouldn’t have been there. He was—” AJ gestured helplessly with her hands, seeking the right word. “Evil. Up to no good.”

  “Why didn’t you call someone?” Chance demanded, agitated. He took a step closer, and his nearness unsettled her. He smelled of clean, damp rain. Of some subtle hint of aftershave or cologne that the rain hadn’t washed away. Tantalizing. She frowned at him.

  “I saw the guard. But when I looked back, the man was gone. So I decided to tell you instead.”

  “What did he look like, this ghost of yours?” Chance prodded, and AJ closed her eyes, concentrating on her answer. “Tall—not quite as tall as you. Very thin—but a strong thin. An old tank top. Muscled. A tattoo of a bloody knife on his left shoulder. He had a scar on his right cheek and a scraggly mustache. And he had ugly yellow teeth.”

  “Sounds like you could identify the man if you saw him again,” Chance said.

  For just a moment, AJ got the impression that he knew exactly who she had described. She watched as he ran a hand over his jaw, and then brushed at his hair.

  “Well,” he said finally.

  “Well, what?” she demanded impatiently.

  He winked. “I’m glad I floss.”

  She frowned. “Darn it, Chance, the man scared me—”

  “Hey, calm down.” He stepped closer, and reached out tentatively to place a gentle hand on her cheek. The caress reassured her. “I’ll check into it. But if he got in and out so quickly and quietly, he must be long gone. Or maybe he was an ex-employee—neither of us has been here very long. I usually stay at Mike’s U.S. properties, not here.”

  She didn’t want him to take his hand away. She thought, for the briefest of seconds, that she should turn her head. Place a kiss on that large, work-roughened palm—the thought shocked her. She felt color rising in her cheeks and realized that she was blushing. Well, there was no way he would know why. She took a step back from him, but her foot caught on the boots she’d pulled off and left by the bed. With a small, startled sound of surprise, she fell backward, winding up on the edge of the bed.

  In his effort to catch her, he tangled his own feet somehow and came thudding down beside her, an arm digging into her chest, a muscular thigh pressed along the length of her thigh. Heat spiraled through her, and need. She hadn’t wanted a man in so long, hadn’t felt this growing, breathless ache. He turned to look at her. Leaned toward her. She couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to. Wanted to feel his lips on hers, to hear him whisper her name.

  Instead, Rosa’s surprised “Caramba!” exploded behind them.

  AJ struggled to her feet, her face burning. Chance straightened and regarded Rosa with annoyance.

  “We didn’t hear you knock,” he said, ignoring the irritated look AJ turned on him.

  “Better you didn’t hear me knock than el jefe,” she retorted grimly. “And he’s on his way in from the airport.”

  AJ heard him suck in a deep breath, and nodded at Rosa. “Thanks,” she murmured, dismissively, and after a moment the young woman shrugged and went out, closing the door behind her.

  Chance sighed. “I’d better go,” he said, after a moment. “I need to meet Mike.”

  She followed his lead and ignored any thought about what might have happened. “Will you tell him about the man I saw?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure. The man already worries about his safety—more than he has to, probably. But I’ll take care of the situation. I’ll tell him if I think I need to.”

  She didn’t believe him. But she didn’t say anything. She still had one last, desperate plan to save Rebel. She wouldn’t do anything to further jeopardize her opportunity to save the stallion. She liked Chance. Wanted him, in spite of herself. But she wouldn’t trust him. And she wouldn’t lose Rebel. Not for anything in the world.

  “Good night, AJ,” he said, as he stepped into the hall.

  “Good night, Chance,” she whispered, but not until the door swung shut between them.

  Chapter Nine

  Chance sat in a corner of the study and stared holes into Mike Towers’s back. The man hadn’t been home half an hour and was already on the phone. While he waited for Mike’s briefing on everything that had happened in his absence, he turned AJ’s information over and over in his head. Not smart, really, to replay her graphic description of the man in the barn, because if Mike turned and saw his face, he might notice the anger and disgust threatening to boil over. To explode.

  Had AJ noticed the way he’d reacted when she told him about the man with the scar? The woman was sharp; she might have guessed he knew him if she’d been paying attention. Damn! That wasn’t good. Towers would find out soon enough—he must have called for him, in fact. But Chance damn sure wouldn’t mention the man’s arrival. Besides, he didn’t want Mike to know that AJ had developed a habit of visiting Rebel day and n
ight. In spite of her denials, she obviously had some interest in the horse besides old family ties. If the horse had been loaned to Gina, and not sold, she probably hoped to get him back—and returned to the U.S. side where she could conduct a legal fight. On this side, she had to know she didn’t have a chance.

  Then again, with Bone back, Rebel might be in mortal danger. He couldn’t tell AJ that, though. He’d blow his own cover. Worse, he might put her in danger. That thought stopped him for a moment. When had he been concerned about someone else being in danger? Not in a while, and the last errant effort to help someone had ended in tragedy. And in death. Gina and he hadn’t known each other well. His loyalties should have been to Mike. The accident that had taken her life—

  He refocused on Bone’s sudden reappearance. He’d pursued his chosen course of action for so long now, closing his eyes to the most repugnant aspects, that he was surprised to feel fear coursing through his body—fear for AJ. He doubted she’d appreciate it. He smiled a tight, grim smile. What a pair they were, AJ and him. Both here under false pretenses. Both with agendas.

  Mike’s voice rose angrily and Chance forced himself to listen to the conversation instead of dwelling on more intriguing thoughts. Like hidden agendas. And undeniable attraction.

  “Three million … no, of course not!” Towers slammed a heavy hand on the polished wood, then cursed into the receiver. “I’m not an endless well … of course. Yes. Of course. Okay. Call me back.” The receiver slammed back into its cradle, and for several seconds, Towers just sat, shoulders hunched, turned away from Chance.

  Finally he swiveled slowly around to face Chance, scowling. “Damn parasites,” he muttered. “A man has money, everyone wants it.”

  Chance didn’t know what to say to that, so he just waited for Towers to make his point.

  “Never mind, my boy,” he said finally. “Anything out of place happen here?”

  “Nope. Everything’s fine,” he lied easily.

  “Hmmm.” Mike’s eyes speared him. “So AJ didn’t see anyone on her little trip into town?”