Dead to You

by Heather Wynter

  But he was also Greer’s brightest hope. He’d never given her any indication that he was going to double-cross her, but of course, she knew he wouldn’t. He’d play the long con, set up the score, and let her walk right into it.

  In reviewing the three years they’d been working together, however, something else came back to her. He’d have had so many chances to do it. He could have drawn her out of the country any number of times. So why here, and why now?

  She gave some thought to the idea that it was a new development, that maybe he’d found some look-alike and been inspired to betray her, or he’d been on the square for a while but hit hard times or made new connections.

  He could have set up Stooper’s death in New York, she thought, but then had to second-guess. No, it’s … it’s too much. But after a moment of doubt, she asked herself, Isn’t it?

  It was too much to work through. Greer sighed and looked out over the city.

  One step at a time. Move ahead cautiously, but without fear. If there’s something going on here, Sean’s not likely to be a part of it. The simplest answer is often the real answer, and this time it’s probably just a coincidence.

  The door opened, and Greer turned with a start as it stopped short against the lock.

  “Greer?”

  “Sean,” she said, crossing the room to the door. “I’ll unlock it.” She pushed the door closed, opened the lock, and then pulled the door open. “Sorry, just being, y’know, cautious.”

  “Probably a good idea.” He pulled out a box of hair dye, a familiar brand picturing a lovely brunette on the box, and a beauty kit with several pairs of scissors, tweezers, and other implements.

  Greer looked the tools over. “Um, are you trying to tell me something?”

  They shared a little chuckle as she collected the stuff and took it to her own hotel room. She undressed, brought the gear into the bathroom, and closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Ten

  Sean waited in his own hotel room while Greer went downstairs to do her hair. He couldn’t deny a certain excitement running through him. He’d fallen in love with Greer long before her arrival in Quito, but only now was he certain. He was once again by her side, where he knew he wanted to be. There wasn’t any further doubt, not in his mind and heart anyway. It energized him, renewed him, revitalized him just to have her around, to know they had more time to spend together.

  It meant a variety of other things Sean couldn’t help but think about as he surveyed the city of Quito beneath and beyond the window. It meant they still had a chance to end up together, especially if he’d been right and they could solve the case there and then. She’d have no more baggage, no more unresolved worries or doubts or questions. She’d finally be able to put the case behind her and, if she was willing, step into a new future with him. Based on just the previous two weeks, never mind the previous three years, Sean knew she was willing to do a lot more than that. She’d come a long way, and he was sure she’d go a good way further.

  And Sean wanted to be a part of that, a part of everything in her life. Unfortunately, a big part of what Greer was headed into was danger, something he didn’t want for her. As far as he was concerned, she’d seen enough combat and deserved the peaceful life of safety and security she seemed to crave.

  He had to ask himself, Who wouldn’t? Who wouldn’t want a life of domestic bliss, especially with a woman like Greer?

  Sean turned to look at himself in the mirror. He looked all right, he had to admit. Maybe a bit off his peak mid-twenties back in the Marines, but he was more than formidable. His black hair hadn’t started graying yet, and his blue eyes were still clear and bright. But there was no denying the wrinkles that had begun to develop near the nose and mouth and a brow that was becoming more furrowed as the years went by.

  He couldn’t miss the traces of his career etched into the slightly more defined bags and the faint crow’s feet beginning to form on the outsides of his eyes. The years were there, no doubt, but so were the cases—kidnapped children and desperate fathers, former celebrities, drug smugglers, and deadbeats. They were a cavalcade of the miserable, and it was hard for him not to admit he’d become one of them. Their sadness had become his. His was a lonely, miserable life searching for lonely, miserable people.

  And with this most vital case, a mission like he’d never had because of the emotional attachment, Sean knew he would have to be on top of his game. He’d have to resist the heavy-handed tactics, which he knew was as much a matter of laziness as anything else. He had given up delicacy for force, diplomacy for war.

  But he wasn’t alone in Quito, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to fight their way out of every situation. This case would require stealth, patience, strategy. He took a deep breath, shoulders back and chest proud, a strong reminder of the Marine he had been. How truly attracted to him she was, he couldn’t be sure. But he had a chance, more and more with every passing hour.

  Sean glanced at the hotel TV, grabbing the remote and clicking it on. He lay back on the bed, beginning to wonder how Greer was going to look with short black hair, having little doubt that she would be ravishing.

  He clicked through a few channels, past several Spanish-dubbed versions of American sitcoms like Friends and animated shows like The Simpsons and Family Guy before finding a news broadcast.

  The screen was filled with news footage of another protest—a massive crowd at one end of a long, narrow street, several rows of cops in riot gear facing them, mounted police on horseback behind them. The protesters sent a burning car tire rolling down the street into the ranks of the police, who fired teargas into the opposing protesters.

  The news anchor spoke in Spanish, but Sean was fluent and didn’t need closed captions, subtitles, or a translator.

  “The protesters have multiplied and broken into factions, straining police resources to the breaking point. Other riots in Cuenca and Guayaquil prevent any backup from coming. Even so, President Moreno reports that he will not reschedule his scheduled appearance at the Presidential Palace in the Plaza Grande later this week.”

  The image on the screen of the handsome, wheelchair-bound president of Ecuador, graying hair combed back, and ruggedly wrinkled gave the suddenly self-conscious Sean new hope. The man spoke Spanish, instantly translated in Sean’s expert hear.

  “This is a time when leaders must lead,” he told a gaggle of news reporters in the clip that followed, taken in some bureaucratic hallway or another. “I must try to pull my people together, whatever the possible risk. If any of my citizens are in harm’s way, then that is where I belong, right next to them to hold our ground against the forces of chaos, of lawlessness.”

  An offscreen reporter asked, “Is it lawless for the people to protest?”

  “No, of course not. Not in a democracy, and Ecuador is a democracy. I am ready to negotiate with protesters over the increases in petrol and tolls, but they must understand that politics is the art of compromise. This is part of my negotiation, part of my compromise. But they must first compromise too, and their part must be to end these violent protests now and let the regular governance of this country resume unfettered.”

  Sean watched with the pitched interest of a former serviceman, a student of politics and current events—oftentimes his life and his livelihood depended on it. He could see hints of greatness and traces of great corruption, knowing too well how closely those two things traveled. One seemed almost certain to guarantee the other. But the world was complicated and ran on shades of gray, a position of compromise Sean had come to understand during his years in the service, serving in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Nobody in public service worked for free. They all had a price, and that was the bottom line. But many slightly corrupted leaders had done a lot for their people—it almost took a certain amount of corruption just to get anything done at all, just to survive.

  But one thing Sean was not willing to compromise on was Greer’s safety and survival. Their mission could yet be a misfire. Or
it could be that they’d find this man and confront him, and he would not react in a civil fashion. They had no idea who he was or what he would do, and that could yet be a crucial disadvantage.

  Anticipating Greer’s new look reminded Sean that he had no idea what she might do, and that could be their saving grace or their ultimate undoing.

  Chapter Eleven

  Greer undressed and stood in front of the mirror, her breasts round and proud, and her body without a speck of fat. She combed through the long wavy red hair that cascaded around her face and shoulders and started cutting. The locks fell easily, and Greer felt no compunction about it. She’d never been vain, never too attached to ornamental things. Having a certain face and body, a certain air, she’d never been without male—and female—attention. She’d never needed to worry too much about cosmetics or hairstyles.

  So to see her hair fall from her head, snip by snip, wasn’t hurtful or shocking for her as it may have been for other women. She found it liberating. The big strokes done, she combed her hair again and used a small pair of shears to even and straighten and tighten her hair into a cute pixie do that framed her face perfectly. Her eyes seemed to pop a bit more, and her high cheekbones were accentuated as the shortened coif drew attention to her face instead of to her shoulders and breasts.

  She combed it out and dyed it, her head forward and down in the sink as she worked the color in. After leaving it wrapped for a while, she was ready to shower off and blow it dry.

  The result was both intriguing and satisfying. She had to admit her green eyes, pale skin, and black hair were an enticing combination. She looked good, and she did look quite different from before.

  More than looking pretty, Greer enjoyed looking different. She felt transformed, as if she were taking on a new identity. And she knew her three-year investigation had transformed her in incremental ways. She’d gained skills and learned new perspectives. She’d discovered her own weaknesses and had worked to correct them and to learn from them. She had become a more fully realized individual, and that woman seemed to be smiling at her from the other side of that bathroom mirror.

  And Greer knew she’d have to embrace that identity if she was going to succeed … or survive.

  A glance out the window told her that the day was getting on, and her groaning stomach reminded her that she hadn’t had a substantial meal since arriving in Quito the night before. She slipped on a very stylish mock-neck sweater dress and made her way back up to Sean’s room.

  He opened the door and looked her over, eyes just short of bugging. “Hey, wow. Very nice.” He stepped back so she could walk in past him. She entered with a tinge of doubt, but it passed as she reentered the room without incident. She even gave Sean a little twirl, shoulder reaching up to her newly exposed ear.

  “You look … amazing.”

  “Thank you very much. Sorry it took so long.”

  “Worth the wait. Effective, too—I wouldn’t have recognized you.”

  Greer rolled her eyes, knowing that she was unable to hide the excitement in her smile. “Let’s hope so. In the meantime, it’s safe to go out?”

  “I should think so, yes. Whoever this guy is, he’s not looking for you or expecting you to be here.”

  Greer thought about her trip through the city that very day, how she could have been spotted by the man she was there to find. And that could have been a disastrous mistake. But she discounted it as unlikely, reminding herself to curtail her sometimes raging imagination. So when Sean asked, “Care for some dinner?” it was easy for her to nod and smile and let him usher her back out the door.

  They ate at a restaurant called Lua. The soy-glazed tuna steak was touched with ginger and pisco, and the chardonnay was dry and crisp. The place suggested the modernity of the city, a place as refined and cosmopolitan as New York or Rome or anywhere else in the world.

  “Food’s good?”

  “Delicious. Yours?” he asked.

  “Maybe I’m just crazy hungry,” she said, rolling her eyes as she savored the meaty fish, “but I think this is the best tuna steak I’ve ever had.”

  “No, it probably is. The food here is so much fresher than back home. Most of it is locally raised or grown, rarely frozen, no antibiotics. It’s a different way of life down here.”

  Greer nodded, but she had to say, “Didn’t I see a KFC as we came up the road?”

  Sean chuckled. “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

  She gave the cryptic comment some thought, not sure what to make of it, but decided to put it out of her head. She was taking a significant step forward in a three-year odyssey, and though it was dangerous, it was undeniably exciting.

  And she couldn’t deny that it was nice to be with Sean again. Of the men who came in and out of her life to varying degrees—Carl Merrick or even Gary Aries—Sean was the most exceptional. He had physical prowess and courage and insight. He was a man of action and reaction, unafraid and uncanny. Looking at him across the table, posture straight and shoulders back, casual smile on his handsome face, it was easy to forget her suspicions. And even when she couldn’t, the litany of conflicting rationale came back to her in reassuring waves. Greer knew she had to put her trust in somebody besides herself, an unyielding position which had gotten her into more trouble than it had gotten her out of.

  That person was Sean Callahan.

  “Nervous?” he asked.

  “A little bit. I mean, after all this time, it’s finally gonna be over?”

  “I suppose it will be, but no way to be sure how it’s going to go down. We have to be realistic—he could be gone by now. No way to know why he’s here or how long he’ll stay.” He seemed to read her disappointment and added, “But I have a good feeling about it. My guess is we have this wrapped up in a few days.”

  “I hope so.” After a self-conscious pause, she went on, “Not that I’m … not that I don’t enjoy your company, or … or our friendship.”

  “Like I said back in New York, we’ll always be friends.” He cracked a wry smile before taking a bite of his grouper.

  “I … ” Greer stammered, not sure how much she wanted to say. “You … you’re going to move on to your next case after this, I suppose.”

  Blue eyes crisp under his black hair, Sean glanced around the restaurant. “I dunno. I’ve been doing this for a long time. Getting a bit old for it, tell you the truth.”

  “Sean, you’re thirty-five. You’re in the prime of your life.”

  “I’m not sure those two things can be said of anyone at the same time,” he joked. “It’s not that I don’t feel good, strong, I do. I sometimes wonder if I wouldn’t enjoy a more … easygoing lifestyle.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, something a bit more domestic. I mean, I’d still like to travel, but for leisure, not to go from one near-death experience to the next.”

  “No, I … I know what you mean. This kind of life, it’s … it’s hard on the head.”

  “And the heart. I never make any real connections, y’know? I mean, women come and go, of course.”

  “Of course,” Greer repeated with a mischievous raised brow.

  Sean smiled with an air of humility before going on, “But … I dunno … I’ve been alone too long, maybe.”

  “What you need is a woman who’s up to loving a man like you.”

  “Do I?”

  Greer wasn’t sure if it was the wine or her new appearance or just Sean’s sexy proximity, something she’d always found hard to resist, but her words were coming quicker, and she was less and less able to control them.

  “You do,” Greer said, her voice low and sexy. “You need a … a sexy, seductive adventuress.”

  “An adventuress? And where would I find one of those?”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised what you might find … under your very nose.”

  “I see.”

  A warm flush ran through Greer, one she was quite unprepared for. Something about looking different made her fee
l different, and it was making her act differently. She was brasher, more outgoing, more confident. The years and her successes and her failures had changed her, and the changes were still coming, faster and faster.

  Stop it, she told herself. Don’t get carried away.

  Sean looked at her with those gorgeous blue eyes framed by high cheekbones and a furrowed brow. He seemed to know what she was thinking and feeling, and he didn’t seem at all interested in discouraging her.

  “Thing about a woman like that is,” Sean said, “they can be dangerous, even … even deadly.”

  “Oh my!”

  “A woman like that, there’s no way to tame her, no way to … to tie her down.” A lump rose in Greer’s throat, so she said nothing. Sean reached out and took her hand. “A woman like that would never be happy just to have a quiet life in some cozy mountain town somewhere … but if I could find a woman who was … who was some combination of the two. A free spirit, but not a restless one. A girl as ready to sit quietly by the fire as she is to jump on a plane and travel halfway around the world. That's the kind of woman I could love … and I’d love her forever, and never give her cause to regret it.”

  Well, Greer told herself, maybe it’s okay to get just a little carried away.

  After dinner, they crossed the street to one of the many dance clubs in the popular nightlife district. The music pulsed with a synthetic beat, lights flashing in the packed dark room. Young men and women surrounded them, hips undulating, arms raised over their heads, eyes dipped closed or looking deep into those of their partner. Most were dark-haired with the cocoa complexion that was common to the area. Their dresses were stylish and cut to accentuate their firm, young curves. The men wore their dress shirts open as they worked their seductive charms on their willing targets. The place smelled of liquor and beer, perfume and cologne, a musk that was both enticing and intoxicating.

  The music was loud, the relentless drumbeat pumping up Greer’s firm legs, the pulse finding its way to the very center of her body and then down just a bit. Synthetic strings zapped and slid, a woman’s spoken voice repeating a simple atonal phrase at key points as the instruments dropped out, beat still pounding.