by Joanna Wayne
“And you’d be playing right into Caudillo’s hands again.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Think about it. She was your best friend. He’d expect you to look her up and then try to see her.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“I’m working on one, but you have to make some modifications to our original agreement.”
“Such as?”
“I need to tell Tague and Durk everything. I need the help of people I can trust, and there’s no one alive I trust more than my brothers.”
“If they’re smart, they’ll tell you to kick me out of your life and forget Caudillo.”
“Not a chance, not once they know the whole truth. They’ll say it’s time to kick butt and take the low-down kidnapping, woman-torturing arms dealer down. Of course, they’ll throw in a few additional descriptive adjectives.”
“It would be a lot simpler and safer for all of you if I just walk out of your life.”
“You know, if you keep threatening to run away from me, I’m going to develop a complex. Next thing I know you’ll be vomiting on me.”
“Not unless you spin me instead of swing me in that tire.”
“Right now, I just need you to give me some time. Go back inside and don’t mention any of this to Mother, Grandma or Sybil when she gets home. There’s no need to alarm them.”
“Aren’t you coming in?”
“Not yet. I’ll be in the office with Tague in a phone conference with Durk. He’s waiting on my call.”
“Does that mean you’ve already told them everything?”
“No, but I’d planned to tell them tonight whether you agreed or not. Caudillo has got to be stopped, and you deserve to get your life back without living in the shadow of fear.”
“Okay. Tell them what you want, Damien. But if they just want me off the ranch, I want you to tell me that.”
“I promise, but that’s not going to happen.” He touched his lips to hers, just one sweet taste, but the thrill raced through him.
“And the sooner you get your life back, the sooner I get to see you in—or out of—that hot-pink nightie. Before you drive me out of my mind.”
* * *
CAUDILLO STRETCHED OUT ON the bed in his room at the New Orleans Ritz-Carlton. It wasn’t quite as luxurious as his bedroom on the yacht, but the yacht was speeding toward Rio de Janeiro without him. All according to plan.
His warehouse on the island was cleared of all traces of weapons and instead stocked full of cashew nuts. He didn’t have to worry about Emma’s DNA being on any surface in the house or gardens. After all, she was his wife, though she’d chosen to leave him.
He reached for the room service menu and searched until he found a seafood dish that titillated his taste buds. Life was good.
He’d take care of Emma and then he’d finish off Dorothy Paul, as well. Though he had to admit that the failed attempt on her life that he’d orchestrated and paid for had given him immense satisfaction. A giant joke after she’d been so thrilled with his original payoff. But she shouldn’t have lied and made him think that Emma had more clout than she did.
His cell phone vibrated. He picked it up from the bedside table. “You’re calling late. You must have news.”
“I know where you can find Emma Muran.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Damn,” Durk said. “When you said Emma was in serious danger, I figured it was something like writing bad checks or lying to the Mexican police. I never dreamed you were talking about evil that spanned continents and threatens national security.”
“Right,” Tague agreed. “If those weapons are getting into the hands of the drug cartels, it’s bad enough. They might be going straight to terrorist organizations buying our weapons illegally to use against us.”
“Add that to kidnapping, torturing and killing women, and you’re looking the devil in the face straight on,” Durk said.
“What worries me the most,” Damien said, “is that Caudillo always seems to be one step ahead of the game, like filing that marriage license. And I’m sure he’s behind Dorothy Paul’s brain damage.”
“I’d have to agree with that,” Durk said. “Whether it was payback or to make sure she didn’t talk, it proves what he’s capable of doing to avoid getting caught.”
“I say turn it over to the FBI and let them call the shots,” Tague said. “Our concentration can be on keeping Emma safe.”
“I don’t know,” Durk said. “I keep thinking about the women he kidnapped and killed. There could be dozens of them. Every one of them someone’s daughter or sister or wife. Maybe even a mother.”
“It would be a lot less complicated if he was operating from inside the United States,” Damien said. “But once the arms are smuggled out of the country, things get sticky. Even if the FBI can put together enough solid evidence to arrest him based on Emma’s testimony, it could take months for them to get to him with all the rules and regulations they’d have to follow.”
“If we knew he was holding an American citizen hostage now, things could be expedited,” Durk said, “but as far as we know, that’s not the case.”
“You’re right,” Tague said. “But if we’re talking about waiting months, who knows how many women he might have kidnapped by then?”
“Damien, you’ve been working on this for a few days,” Durk said. “You must have some ideas about how to proceed from here.”
“I’ve given this a lot of thought,” Damien said. “Caudillo is smart. There’s no doubt about that. We have to be smarter.”
“And you have a plan?” Tague asked.
“Based on what I’ve seen and heard, I think Caudillo was telling the truth about having friends in high places. It explains how he’s kept operating so long. I have a strong hunch that one of his sources is with the Nashville ATF office. That’s likely how he found out that it was Dorothy and not Emma who’d lied about what security-protected files Emma could access. At the time Emma was kidnapped, Caudillo’s source might have even believed she had more clearance than she did since they worked in different departments.”
“Do you have a suspect?” Durk asked.
“No, but I think if it’s leaked to the media that the arrest of an ATF agent in that office is imminent, the traitorous bastard may out himself.”
“I’m not following you,” Durk said.
“I think I am,” Tague said, “and I like it. The guilty agent will know that Caudillo’s not going to risk getting outed by his source, a man who’ll have all the scoop on him. So he’ll bolt or possibly become so desperate that he does something to give himself away. He may even turn himself in before Caudillo has him taken out.”
“Either way, once he’s identified, the authorities can offer him protection in exchange for his help in leading Caudillo into a trap,” Damien said. “I admit it’s a long shot, but it could work. I just haven’t figured out how to handle the details yet.”
“Your only chance of getting it to work is to persuade the ATF or some other government agency to work with us on this,” Durk said. “Tell you what, I have a very good friend with the CIA, Jerry Delaney, who I know I can trust. Why don’t I give him a call in the morning, pick his brain and get back to you?”
“That’ll work,” Damien said. “But be sure he knows we’re dealing with a psychopath, and under no circumstances do I want Emma involved in his capture or anything said publicly that could lead Caudillo to the Bent Pine.”
“Don’t worry. I have family there, remember? In fact, I think it’s time you hire protection for the ranch. If Caudillo is as smart as he seems, he’s out gathering information and making plans the same as you.”
“I’ll take care of that first thing in the morning. And thanks, guys. I knew I could count on you for support.”
“That’s what brothers are for, but bear in mind that I can’t make Delaney do anything he doesn’t agree to. We just have to hope he and the department see it our way.”
* * *
EMMA SAT ON THE EDGE OF the bed, watching Belle as she slept in the same cradle that Damien had once slept in. So sweet and innocent.
Emma trailed a finger down Belle’s soft cheek. “Your mother loved you very much, little princess. I wish you could always know that. Maybe I’ll find you one day when you’re old enough to understand and tell you how much she loved you.”
Emma stood and walked to the window. She had no idea why the aching sense of loss that had haunted her through much of her childhood was surging so strong tonight.
Her growing attachment to Belle likely had something to do with it. So did watching Carolina’s face as she’d adoringly held the picture of Damien and his father.
Or maybe it was just a factor of the emotional turmoil that had started churning inside her the night she was kidnapped and that had refused to settle down. How could it, when Caudillo still controlled her life? Not only hers now, but Damien’s, as well.
She hated Caudillo with a fierceness that she’d never known existed until she’d endured his mental torture month after month after agonizing month.
Now she was dwelling on that hate, when love was all around her. Carolina brought that to this family.
Carolina’s words played in her mind like a sweet country ballad.
Choose love, Emma. Always choose love.
Even without promises of forever, the words made sense. Not to choose love was letting priceless moments of life slip away.
Emma had already lost too many moments to waste a single one now, but how could she move on when her fear of Caudillo refused to let go of her?
* * *
DAMIEN STAYED OUTSIDE FOR at least a half hour after Tague went in. He liked the sounds on the ranch at night. The hoot of an owl. The rustling in the grass made by a family of skunks out searching for food. The croak of a bullfrog in the nearby pond. The scratching of an armadillo in the rich earth beneath the shrubs.
The only illumination in the back of the house when he finally went inside was the dim glow of the under-counter lights that they frequently left on all night. Damien walked to the counter and reached for a water glass.
“What’s wrong, Damien?”
He turned at his mother’s voice. She was sitting alone at the kitchen table.
“Nothing’s wrong. What are you doing sitting in here by yourself this late?”
“Thinking about you and the worry I read in your face. I know this has to do with Emma. It started when she arrived. Is she in some kind of trouble?”
“Nothing you don’t know about.”
“Julio’s death was ruled self-defense. But the two of you are more anxious than ever.”
She’d always been able to see through his lies. No use to try. He’d just have to soft-pedal the truth. He took his glass of water to the table and straddled a chair.
“Emma’s working through some issues from the past, but she’s making progress. I’m just trying to help her look at some options for dealing with obstacles.”
“What kind of issues?”
“An abusive relationship.”
“Is she still in danger from this man?”
“She could be. That’s why I’ve asked her to stay on here, but don’t worry. I plan to hire additional protection so none of you will be in danger.”
“I can’t imagine the man would be foolish enough to show up here with you, Tague and all the wranglers we have around. But if I can help with anything, let me know.”
“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t broach the subject with Emma. If you do, she’s liable to just run away again and then she might be in real danger.”
“I’ll take my cues from you. I like Emma. She’s easy to talk to, and I love the way she’s bonded with Belle.”
“I like her, too, Mother. I like her a lot.”
He reached for a snapshot lying at his mother’s elbow and held it up so that he could see it in the dim light. “This is an old picture. Who’s that Dad’s bathing?”
“You.”
“I’m smiling big, but Dad looks like he’s in pain.”
“You’d just splashed water all over him and he was grumbling like a bear. I was laughing so hard I could barely focus the camera, but it’s always been one of my favorites.”
“Grumbling like a bear, huh? So even as a baby I had that effect on him.”
“We all had that effect on him at times.”
“But no one was as good at it as me.”
“That’s not true. Your father pushed you too hard at times, but he was always proud of you, Damien.”
The question of the birth certificate niggled Damien’s thoughts. This was probably as good a time as any to deal with it. “I have a question for you, Mother.”
“You can ask me anything.”
“Who was Damien Briggs?”
“Is this some kind of game? Because I’m not sure I’m up to a brain teaser tonight.”
“It’s not a game. When I was getting the boxes you wanted down from the attic the other day, I saw a birth certificate for a Damien Briggs. His birthday was the same as mine, but the name of the mother was Melissa Briggs.”
She winced as if he’d slapped her. “You must have read it wrong.”
“I read it exactly as it was printed. The line for the father’s name was blank.”
Carolina started to rub her arms nervously. His uneasiness swelled to a strangling knot in his gut. “I’m not really your son, am I?”
Carolina buried her face in her hands.
“I guess that’s my answer.” He started to stand up, but she grabbed his arm and held on, digging her fingernails into his flesh.
“You’re my son in every way that matters, Damien. I didn’t give birth to you, but I loved you from the first second I saw you. I built my life around you. No mother could love a biological son more than I love you. Surely you know that.”
Tears slid from her eyes and wet her cheeks. He should say something to comfort her, but those words wouldn’t come. “What happened to my real mother?”
“I’m your real mother, do you hear me, Damien? I’m your mother and always will be.”
“What happened to Melissa Briggs?”
“It was so long ago, Damien. Does it really matter now?”
“It matters to me.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to start with the beginning.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“I’ve never talked much about my family because there never seemed a reason to, but you have to know some of our background to understand my sister, Melissa.”
“Go back as far as you need to.”
“Our mother dropped us off at my grandmother’s when I was ten and Melissa was twelve. She never came back to pick us up. We learned later that she’d died of a drug overdose.”
“Where was your father?”
“I never met him, never knew his name. Mother cut us off quickly whenever either Melissa or I asked about him. Anyway, Grandma did the best she could to take care of Melissa and me, but she had no money and problems of her own.”
“What kind of problems?”
“The doctor called it chronic depression, but looking back I think there may have been a personality disorder or two in there, as well. So Melissa and I basically raised ourselves.
“Melissa had a much harder time than I did, probably because she was the oldest. Anyway, I was the student. She was the wild child. I got a scholarship to UT and earned a degree in premed. She went to New Orleans and got a job as an exotic dancer.”
“But you didn’t become a doctor.”
“No. I became a mother.”
“And Melissa?”
“Got mixed up with the wrong crowd in New Orleans. I was preparing to start med school when I got word that she and her boyfriend had been shot while robbing a liquor store. The cops found you in the backseat of the getaway car. You were four weeks old at the time, about the same age as Belle is now.”
“So you and Dad adopted me?”
“A part of you, maybe, but I’m not Hugh’s flesh and blood. He was stuck with me to marry you.”
“That’s not true, Damien, and don’t call your father Hugh. He was your daddy. He’s the one who was determined you not know that you were adopted because he never wanted you to feel different from your brothers. You were our son in his mind.”
“I’m not a Lambert.”
“You’re every bit as much a part of this family as Tague and Durk.”
“You should have told me the truth. You should have told me long before now.”
“Your father and I may have made a mistake in judgment, son, but not with our hearts. We always gave you all the love we had to give. If that’s not enough, I don’t know what else to say.”
Neither did Damien. He was numb…staggered…empty inside.
All his life he’d been a Lambert.
All his life had been a lie.
He walked away without saying a word, knowing his mother was hurting and unable to offer her anything. His muscles ached from a debilitating fatigue he hadn’t noticed earlier. But instead of going to his room, he found himself at Emma’s door.
He knocked once and then stepped inside. She was stretched out between the sheets, but she sat up when he entered. The room was dark, but silvery moonlight caressed her face, making her look like an angelic illusion.
“I didn’t know you’d already gone to bed.”
But she took one look at him and then opened her arms and beckoned him inside.
Chapter Fourteen
Only then did he come to his senses and pull away. It was not the time for this. Not yet. Not when he was dealing with his own frustrations and her life was in turmoil.