by Wendy Davy
“She’s…uh…her name…we couldn’t find out.” Rafael stuttered. “Yet.”
Santiago rubbed his beefy hands together. “But we do know she escaped to the United States. She’s an American.”
“You think?” Alejandro drummed his fingers on the desktop, wishing his brother’s blood didn’t run through their veins. He so longed to be rid of them. He looked between the two. If he had to choose, Santiago would be the one he let live. But, only because Santiago had inherited his brother’s stout face and deep set eyes. “How far did you follow her before you lost her?”
Rafael’s face reddened. “The airport.”
“In Bogotá?”
Santiago stepped forward. “She must’ve had help. I don’t know what happened. She just vanished.”
Alejandro ground his teeth, and his pulse throbbed. “I saw her on the path to the village. She could have seen me shoot that undercover agent. I will return to New York someday, and when I do, I don’t want to be taken down by the authorities because of some tourist woman turned witness. Do you understand the implications if she lives?” Certain they had no clue, he attempted to explain. “If I lose my contacts in the U.S., we have no buyers. No buyers, no money.”
No money, no way to pay back the debt he owed the Serrano Cartel.
His life would be over, literally. And Carlos…what would happen to his son?
“You have forty-eight hours to find her.” Alejandro’s voice rose as he faced the two men. “If you don’t…” He let his threat hang in the air. “Get out of my sight.”
They exited the room as if it had caught fire. If his life depended on his nephews, he was as good as dead. But, he would give them the allotted time. Then, he would take matters into his own hands.
5
Cara woke to unfamiliar surroundings. Caught off guard, she struggled to gain her bearings. The sterile room looked like military barracks. Two bunk beds covered in army green blankets occupied the room with a small nightstand wedged between the two. A gunmetal gray armoire, which hugged the stark white wall, served as the room’s only storage.
No color. No warmth. Nothing made this room feel welcoming—much like the man who owned this place.
How had she ended up here? Oh yeah. She’d had the bright idea to surprise Jonas in Columbia. She was going to act like one of those fearless characters in the novels she read. Daring. Adventurous. And, look where it had gotten her.
At least Gage McKenna had given her a semblance of privacy. He’d slept in a downstairs bedroom last night after he’d instructed her to stay inside the house until he could show her around the place. Sounded fair enough at the time, after all, it had been raining, dark and cold.
Now that the sun was out, however, she had a yearning to take a look around the property. She’d never been to the Eastern Shore before, but had read about the unique stretch of land separating the Chesapeake Bay from the Atlantic.
Cara climbed out of bed, tugging on the hem of the T-shirt Gage had loaned her. It hung close to her knees and carried his spicy scent on it, but it beat sleeping in wet clothes. She padded across the room and glanced out the window. A narrow beach, about a hundred yards wide, separated the house from the ocean. The water mesmerized her, bright and sparkling, with calming waves.
“It’s beautiful.” Her voice echoed through the barren room.
She unlatched the window’s lock and opened it wide. Seagulls, sand pipers, and various birds sang and chirped. The sounds of the surf relaxed her, and she drew in the scent of the salty air.
She leaned out the window to get a better look. Thousands of untouched seashells covered the beach, a testament to the isolated location. To the right, salt marshes covered much of the inner portions of the land, and to the left, a wide inlet separated the sand from another barrier island.
Jonas had been right. This was a place she could feel safe. The location and surroundings would work for her. She still wasn’t sure about Gage.
She’d been frightened, cold, and uncomfortable last night, but she certainly wasn’t blind. The man Jonas had left her with looked as if he could hold his own in a brawl. Broad shoulders and long, lean torso. His biceps could not be ignored. His face wasn’t bad to look at either. Chiseled jaw. Angular features. Even his nose was perfect. Cara caught herself. What was she thinking? He was handsome, but not that handsome.
“Focus, Cara.” She’d come to Cedar Island for one reason, and one only—to stay alive. Although she didn’t want to believe someone wanted her dead, the possibility kept poking at her.
She wanted to trust Jonas’s judgment about who he’d left her with, but Gage had obviously had some sort of injury. Could he keep her safe if someone came after her?
Cara clasped the windowsill and concentrated on the scenery, hoping to calm her mind. It started to work, until something large, white, and feathery swooped down from above, flew past her face, and squawked.
She let out an ear piercing scream and backed away from the window.
Noises sounded from downstairs. A door opened. Something crashed on the stairs. “Cara! I’m coming,” Gage shouted. More noises, more thumps.
She scrambled down the hallway. She skidded to a standstill at the top of the stairs. Gage had made it halfway up the staircase without a cane.
“I’m OK. It was just a bird.”
He stopped climbing, and looked at her as if she’d gone insane. “A what?”
“I was looking out the window. A bird flew past, and I…” Her face heated. “Sorry.”
“Next time you scream, you’d better be dodging bullets.” He raked his fingers through his tussled hair and leaned against the wall, relieving pressure from his left leg.
“Did you hurt yourself?” She took a step toward him.
Gage held up a hand. “Don’t.”
He took in deep breaths, whether from exertion, pain, or the sheer unexpectedness of her scream, she didn’t know. Either way, she’d been impressed by how fast he’d responded. “Were you still asleep?”
“Not sure if I got any sleep at all last night.”
That would account for the dark circles under his eyes. His hair stuck up in disarray as if he’d tossed and turned, and his beard looked a little rougher. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Get my cane. Downstairs. The door to the left of the kitchen.” He sucked in a breath through his nose and blew it out as if asking for help pained him as much as his leg.
“Of course.” She started to pass by him, but he caught her by the arm.
“Just because I need a cane, does not mean I can’t protect you. I can, and I will.” Something behind his eyes shifted, as if silently asking her to believe.
He would try. He’d just proved it. But, if and when the time came, would his efforts be enough? Cara couldn’t answer in the way he needed to hear, so she didn’t answer at all as she twisted from his grasp.
She found the cane propped against a twin bed in what looked to be an office and a bedroom. She’d thought the living room had a lot of books, but the amount of this room’s bookshelves put the others to shame. A desk occupied the far corner, and a computer sat booted up and ready. A few bottles of prescriptions lay scattered on an end table, and Cara picked one up to read the label.
“Find it?” Gage’s call made her jump.
The pills inside the bottle rattled, as if tattle-telling on her. She hadn’t been snooping, just taking in her new surroundings. So, why did her throat dry and her palms ice over?
She set down the bottle and picked up the cane. “Got it.” She carried it back to Gage. Some color had returned to his face, but sweat beaded across his forehead. “Do you need some of your pain medication?”
He looked at her as if he’d known she’d been poking around in his stuff. Or, maybe she just imagined the distrust on his features. “I don’t like to take it unless I have to.” He took the cane and climbed down the steps.
Cara wondered how he’d hurt his leg. Perhaps he’d been on a mission wit
h Jonas. “Are you a spy, too?”
Gage swiveled around and gave her a half smile, which looked good on his face. OK. So maybe he was that handsome.
“A spy?”
“Yeah, like Jonas. He works with you, right?” Cara inched down the steps.
“How much did he tell you?”
“Not enough that he’ll have to kill me.” She thought her cliché would evoke another smile, or at least a half smile. She was wrong.
His eyes darkened from turquoise to sapphire. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.”
“I do want to know.” Why had Jonas kept such secrets? A sense of betrayal sank into her again, and she yearned for answers. If Jonas wouldn’t give them to her, perhaps this guy would. “I have a right to know about my brother.”
Gage appeared to consider her comment, and she hoped she’d get an answer. Instead, he turned and strode toward the kitchen, using the cane for support.
“You can’t just walk away.” Cara complained to his retreating back.
“Just did.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
“I’m going to find out sooner or later. You might as well just tell me.” She raised her voice.
He was silent so long that she assumed he hadn’t heard her. Then, he spoke. “Duly noted. For now, you might want to put on some clothes.”
Cara looked down and froze—she’d forgotten she was wearing Gage’s T-shirt. The thin, cotton material shielded half her legs, but didn’t leave much else to the imagination. Her face flushed hot, and she took off up the stairs.
6
Gage answered a call on his satellite phone as he withdrew thick, sliced bacon from the refrigerator.
“Is Cara all right?” Jonas asked in a rush of words.
“She’s fine.” He hadn’t expected contact from Jonas so soon, and he gripped the phone tight. “Where are you?”
“I’m on my way to Mercado’s compound. Is Cara settling in?”
“I told you, she’s fine.”
“Have you two gotten acquainted?”
Gage considered different ways he could answer. He’d learned she was scared of heights, skittish around birds, and looked incredible in his clothes. But, he didn’t think Jonas would appreciate his eye for detail, so he left it open. “Somewhat.”
“Has she asked many questions?”
“She wants to know what we do for a living.”
“Be careful, the more she knows—”
“The more danger she’s in. I know the drill. I’ve got it covered.” Gage selected a frying pan and set the gas stove on medium heat. “I need to know what you’ve told her.”
“Nothing concrete. She thinks I’m a spy.” Jonas chuckled.
“She thinks I’m a spy, too.” Gage placed strips of bacon in the pan. The meat popped and sizzled, creating a delicious aroma. “I get the feeling she’s not going to give up trying to figure us out.”
“You’d be correct in that assumption, partner. She’s a livewire. Better get used to it.”
He didn’t want to get used to it. “You handle Mercado. I’ll handle your sister.”
“I’m serious.” Jonas’s voice became hesitant. “Be careful with her. I can’t lose her.”
Gage looked up as Cara appeared in the doorway, eyes round and inquisitive. She appeared so vulnerable and innocent, his protective instincts kicked in. “I understand. Gotta go.” He tapped the disconnect button.
“Was that Jonas?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I would’ve liked to speak with him.” Her shoulders sagged, her disappointment evident.
“He was...” What could he tell her? He couldn’t explain Jonas was headed toward a remote compound where it was commonplace for men to enter, but never return. He cleared his throat and focused on cooking instead of the pain entering her eyes. “Jonas couldn’t talk long, he was…working.”
“Is he all right?”
“Fine.”
“He’s going after Mercado. I highly doubt he’s fine.”
Gage jerked up his head. Just how much did Cara know? “Jonas can take care of himself.”
“Right.” She tucked a tuft of blonde hair behind an ear and wrapped her arms around her middle. “It would still be nice to hear his voice. He told me he’d contact me through you.”
“He might have the chance to call again.”
Her focus dropped to the floor, and she shuffled her bare feet.
Now Gage felt like the bad guy. He liked it better when she was spitting venom, like last night when he’d told her she had rules to follow. Anger, he could handle. Sadness, not so much. “Make yourself useful. Grab the eggs from the fridge.”
Her gaze snapped to his, and a fire lit behind her eyes. “Is that how you treat all your guests?”
“I wouldn’t know. You’re my first.”
Her brows shot up. “How long have you lived here?” She glanced around as if looking for unopened moving boxes.
“A few years.”
“And you’ve never had anyone over?”
“I prefer to be alone when I’m not working.”
“And how long has it been since you’ve been on duty?” Cara glanced at his leg.
“Six months. I spent three in and out of the hospital, and the other three here.”
“You’ve isolated yourself for three entire months?”
She made it sound like an eternity. Some days had felt like they’d never end, but Gage would never admit it. He removed the bacon from the pan, and scraped the excess grease into a porcelain container. The salty scents of hearty bacon increased his appetite, and his stomach growled. “How about those eggs?”
Cara retrieved the carton and set it on the counter. “I like them fried. Over easy.”
“I’m scrambling them.” He didn’t care one way or another, but he felt like baiting her. So what if he’d spent three months alone? He liked privacy. Nothing wrong with that.
“Scrambled?” She wrinkled her nose. “In that case…I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself.” He cracked several eggs into a bowl, ignoring the nudge of guilt as she stood in the middle of the kitchen looking out of place. He should ask her if she’d slept well. He should offer to fry the eggs. Instead, he said, “I’ll show you around the place after breakfast.”
“I’d like that.” She tucked hands into her jeans pockets. “The view from the second floor is beautiful. I can’t wait to get outside.”
His mind turned toward what must come. “You’ll have to agree to some things before I let you out.” Last night, he’d only asked her not to step outside the house until he’d shown her around, and had decided to leave the remainder of the discussion for today.
“Let me?” She crossed her arms. “You tell me your rules, and I’ll tell you if I’m going to follow them.”
“You’ll follow them, or you’ll leave.” He shoved the eggs around the pan with more force than necessary.
“You sound like Jonas.” Cara settled onto a chair at the table. “He took my credit cards and destroyed my cell phone. He refused to let me stay at home even for one night. I didn’t even have time to tell my friends I’d had a change of plans. They probably still think I’m in Colombia.”
“No one but Jonas and I need to know where you are.” He divided the cooked eggs onto two plates and added bacon. “Once I’ve shown you around, you’ll stay within eyesight of the house. No going out alone after dark. If you see anyone approaching the island, I want you to come and tell me. No matter how seemingly innocent they look.” He sat down opposite Cara, and placed a plate in front of each of them. “You’ll eat what I cook, or you can fix it yourself.”
“Anything else?”
“Don’t play games with me. Tell it like it is. If you’re hungry, say so. Cold, say so. If you need something—”
“Say so. I get it.” She eyed the plate. “I am hungry. I’m not cold. I wish I’d never gone to South America. I wonder if that Mercado guy is really after me.” Her
voice lowered to a whisper. “I wonder if I’ll ever see my brother again.”
“You’ll see him again.” Gage poured two glasses of milk and set them on the table.
“How can you be sure?”
How could he? He’d experienced enough to know that sometimes even the best of the best run out of luck. A pain shot through his leg as if to edify the reality that not everyone could walk away from undercover operations unscathed.
Gage could not lie, but his gut told him Jonas would return. “It’s a feeling I have.”
“Your sixth sense?”
“Something like that.” He relaxed his features and offered a reassuring smile.
She stared, studying his face. “You can smile.”
He shrugged. “On rare occasions.”
“Since we’re going to be living together what else should I know about you?”
His first instinct was to ignore her question and concentrate on his food, but he couldn’t focus on anything with that offhanded comment. Knowing of Jonas’s deep faith and his upbringing in a Christian family, he doubted Cara had ever ‘lived’ with the opposite sex before. In fact, he hadn’t either. “I wouldn’t exactly call what we’re doing living together.”
She waved a hand. “You know what I mean.”
“Do I? Jonas hasn’t told me much about you.” He dug into his eggs and then paused to add salt before taking another mouthful. “Ever been married?”
“No.”
“Ever come close?”
She pushed the eggs around her plate and sighed. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“Everything about you is my business.”
“Since when?” Her beautiful, light blue eyes narrowed.
“Since you stepped foot into my boat.”
Cara stiffened.
He tried another approach. “I just need to know if somebody other than Mercado or his men will come looking for you.”
“Oh.” She relaxed her shoulders, and tucked hair behind her ears. “I see.” She took a sip of milk.
Gage finished eating and drained his glass. “Do you have any jealous lovers I should be aware of?”