by Meryl Sawyer
"That's a good idea. Let's have Uma find out what the situation is," Kelly said, her eyes on the water flowing across the road.
"Why did you lie to me about your mother? The whole world assumes a couple kidnapped you. My reputation as a journalist is shaky because I printed something I couldn't verify. Now, thanks to you, I've done it again."
"Everyone assumed someone abducted me. I just rolled with the idea. If you keep quiet, no one will ever know. Sure as hell, Luz won't talk."
Kelly lost it, yelling, "That's it! That's all you have to say? Don't you think you owe me an explanation? Where were you all those years? Where's your mother now?"
His expression changed, anger transforming his features into something resembling a death mask, yet when he spoke, his voice was low, controlled. "I don't owe anyone an explanation, not even you."
Logan had inherited his father's ability to turn on the charm, but beneath that veneer was a man with a heart buried so deep, she'd have to go to hell to find it. She tried to find a logical explanation for why Logan wouldn't discuss his past with her. It must have to do with something illegal, she decided.
All sorts of scenarios paraded through her mind. A child pornography ring. Dealing drugs. Perhaps his mother worked as a prostitute.
* * *
"What if they visit Luz Tallchief? I told you we should have gotten rid of that worthless Indian long ago."
"Never kill unnecessarily. The old bat doesn't know anything."
It was after midnight, and they were in the huge marble tub in her bathroom. Candles flickered in crystal votives lining the tub, giving off the aromatic scent of sage.
"Luz is smarter than she looks. You just don't like Indians, so you're prejudiced. Remember how she guarded precious little Logan? She knew we were going to kill him."
He shook his head, holding one hand up to the flickering light. Oh, shit. His skin looked like a prune. She loved to soak in the tub for hours, then do it doggie style. The dog bit, he liked, soaking sucked the big one.
"Forget Luz," he told her. "If she knew anything, she would have blabbed when they were searching for Logan, or later when Woody offered the reward."
"What about the couple who picked up Logan? He might not remember what happened now, but then being pushed would have been fresh in his mind. Undoubtedly he told them."
"They are not going to resurface and admit to kidnapping a child, are they?"
"No, I guess not."
She smiled at him, then took his hand and put it between her legs. She was so smooth, so sexy. Best of all, she'd done it for him. His dick was already rigid, begging for action.
"The agent I hired reported something I don't like," he said as he fondled the smooth folds between her thighs. "Suzanne's mother was at Hair and Now, getting a cut. She told everyone in the shop Kelly had visited her."
"Kelly's a real bitch. Why is she stirring up trouble? She must suspect something."
"She can't prove anything. That's why we used brucine." She giggled, more a crackle really, then said, "I like your new plan. I won't be happy until Kelly gets what she deserves along with Logan."
* * *
Pop took Kelly and Logan to Cilantro's in the Tlaquepaque center to celebrate receiving their adoption certification. They were seated around a table, and Jasper was lying next to Pop.
"How do you pronounce it again?" Logan asked Kelly as he pointed to Tlaquepaque on the menu. He'd been coaxing her to talk to him again. Not that she hadn't been talking, she had, but there was an unmistakable coolness since Kelly discovered he had lied to her.
"It's pronounced Too-locky-pocky," Kelly informed him without sparing a glance in his direction.
"Tlaquepaque is a suburb of Guadalajara. This center was built to look just like it," Pop added in an awkward attempt to mask Kelly's chilly attitude.
"Bring me the bill," Logan told the waiter as he handed them menus. "Do you have a 1984 bottle of Opus 1?"
"Yes, sir," the waiter said, impressed by his choice. "I'll bring it right away."
"Let me pay. This was my idea," Pop protested. "I made the reservation."
"Giving me a place to stay where the media wouldn't find me was a big help," Logan said. "I want to do something for you."
"Thanks," Pop replied. "In that case I'll have the most expensive thing on the menu."
"I think you should order filet mignon for Jasper, too," Kelly said.
"Jasper wants a rib-eye. He told me so," Logan teased her back. He would have bet his life that Kelly couldn't stay angry long. It wasn't in her nature. By morning, after he'd made love to her all night, she would be herself again.
Logan leaned over to pet the retriever whose ears where perked up at the sound of his name. He pulled his hand back before he touched the dog. He was getting too attached to these people and this dog. He had to be able to walk out without a backward glance.
The way he'd left his mother and the camp.
"Sedona has some of the best art galleries in the Southwest," Pop said while the waiter uncorked the cabernet and Logan sampled it. "The ones in Tlaquepaque are excellent. After dinner—"
Kelly interrupted with, "Don't look now, but guess who walked in?"
Haywood Stanfield led Ginger and Benson into the restaurant. Following them were Alyx and Tyler. Did they always hang around his old man like rock band groupies? Didn't any of them have lives of their own?
Undisguised hatred flared in Kelly's brown eyes. He fought back a smile. She was more pissed than he was about one of them trying to kill him. She honestly cared about him, Logan thought with stunned surprise. Aw, hell.
His mother had never told him that anyone had tried to kill him. She'd informed him in that cutting way of hers that the family who had adopted him did not want him. She had been forced to take him back, but he shouldn't get any wild ideas about her giving a damn about him.
The older he grew, the more he looked like his father. Of course, he hadn't known that. But he should have guessed by the way his mother glared at him, her hatred increasing each day. He avoided her—when he could—not wanting the whack that would surely come if he gave her the slightest reason.
Sometimes she didn't need a reason.
Nobody had cared about him. The message had been etched into his brain at an impressionable age. He must have been hurt by it at first, but he'd gotten over feeling sorry for himself.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
He did not need a woman trying to protect him. Especially not Kelly.
"Logan," Pop whispered, cutting off his thoughts. "I used the phone to make the reservations. I'll bet that's how the Stanfields happened to decide to come here to dinner."
"I'm sure you're right," Kelly said. "They'll ask when we're leaving for South America and where we're going."
"Be certain you don't give anyone a clue about where we're really going," Logan cautioned Pop. Kelly's grandfather was the only weak link that Logan could think of. He trusted him, but you never knew what little slip could give you away.
"Even if I have another heart attack, I'm not—"
Kelly cut him off. "Yes, in that case have the doctor call us."
What could Logan say? Shit happened. If Pop was hospitalized, the doctor would have to locate Kelly. He raised his wineglass for a toast. "Here's to our trip and adopting Rafi."
The clicked glasses, then sipped the wine. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the waiter guiding the Stanfields in their direction.
Woody stopped beside Logan. "I understand you two passed the home visit with flying colors."
"Yes. Thanks for the help." Logan mustered a smile. He hated asking anyone to do him a favor, especially this man.
Tyler examined the wine bottle and gave a low whistle. "Hey, Gus," he said to the waiter. "You picked out a great wine for them."
"Mr. McCord selected the Opus," Gus replied.
"Really?" Tyler looked at Logan as if he were a bug that should be squashed before it scuttled away a
nd multiplied.
The look on Kelley's face almost made Logan laugh. Unless he missed his guess, it was all Kelly could do to stop herself from hurling the expensive cabernet in Tyler's face. Logan almost wished he could hate Tyler as much as she did, but he'd seen enough evil in the world to classify Tyler Stanfield as a rank amateur.
Even so, amateurs could be dangerous. Deadly.
"How was Devil's Arch?" Alyx asked.
"We didn't go there," Kelly said with a smile that was a shade too bright. "We were sidetracked."
"Devil's Arch?" Ginger asked as if they were discussing a planet in another galaxy instead of one of Sedona's most famous red rock formations. The woman had an I.Q. in the minus column. Either that or she was one hell of an actress.
Benson said to her, "That's where they were going on their honeymoon, remember? The red rock arch outside of town."
"Oh, yes," Ginger replied in a breathy voice.
Logan doubted she remembered a damn thing. Benson had prompted Ginger so many times that she automatically responded. A very strange relationship. Benson was about as friendly as a pit bull, but he treated Ginger with unexpected patience and tenderness while his old man looked the other way.
"I see you've brought your dog," Woody said to Pop.
"To a restaurant?" Alyx's soft coral lips uttered a gasp worthy of a phone sex call.
"In France, they are allowed to bring dogs into restaurants," Kelly said, her tone much too sweet. "They're so cultured, don't you think?"
Bingo! Alyx managed a faint nod. At dinner the woman had made no secret her admiration for all things French. She wasn't about to admit she found this disgusting. As far as Logan could see, people tacked French onto things when they wanted to overcharge you.
"Jasper is training to become a guide dog." Pop pointed to the orange vest with Guide Dog Trainee stenciled in black. "He's allowed to go anywhere."
"I've always admired your work with guide dogs," Woody said. "I wish I could do as well with my horses. I've got this new colt that refuses to eat much."
"Try putting him in the stable with the mares," Kelly suggested. "All that testosterone in the barn is frightening him."
For a split second Woody looked confused, not knowing if she was serious or not. Then he flashed a politician's smile.
"Where are you going on your honeymoon?" Tyler asked. Logan knew Kelly had been anticipating the question. "Well, first we're off to the Galapagos Islands. Then we're leaving ourselves open."
"Honeymoon? Honeymoon? I thought they already…" Ginger gazed at Benson.
Logan watched Woody who was smiling as if everyone had a wife as dumb as a bag of dirt. Okay, she was still a looker even at her age, but nobody was home upstairs.
"They took a short honeymoon here," Pop explained, his tone kind. It was obvious to Logan that he felt sorry for the woman. "Then they're going on a longer honeymoon in South America."
"Do you fly directly to the Galapagos Islands?" Alyx asked Kelly.
"There are no direct flights. The islands are about six hundred miles from Ecuador's coast. We'll fly into Quito, then catch a smaller plane."
"I've always wanted to go there," Alyx said.
The way she looked at Kelly sent a prickle of alarm through Logan. He was never concerned for himself. He knew how to watch his back, and trusted his own survival skills that had been honed at a very early age. But Kelly didn't have the same abilities, making her vulnerable.
For the first time in his life, Logan realized he was beginning to care about a person who wasn't just an assignment in his anti-terrorist work. How in the hell had he let that happen?
* * *
Chapter 27
« ^ »
"What do you mean they're not dead?"
Her tone irritated him a bit. He had to rein her in. She wanted Logan and Kelly out of the way so badly that he was afraid she might do something that would expose them.
"The agent I hired accessed the American Express database and saw Logan had charged two first-class American Airlines tickets to Quito, Ecuador. He flew down the day ahead of them and met the flight. They weren't on it or any other flight that came in for the next two days."
"Maybe they took another airline, and he missed them. Did he check the hotels? Did he see if they were on a flight to the Galapagos Islands?"
They were in his suite, buck naked in his favorite spot for sex, on the polar bear rug in front of the fireplace. It wasn't even noon yet, but everyone else had gone to Phoenix, so they'd taken advantage of being alone. She'd brought a bottle of Cristal, believing they would have good news to celebrate. He'd waited until they were sipping the expensive champagne to tell her what had happened.
"The Israeli checked everywhere. They're not in Ecuador."
"That bitch! You saw the way Kelly acted at Cilantro's. She—"
"Let's keep cool and use our heads. Obviously, they suspect someone is after them."
She sipped her champagne for a moment, then said, "I have an idea."
She was sexy, the only woman for him, but she wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, he listened politely.
"We torture Kelly's grandfather until we get it out of him."
He waited a moment, pretending to seriously consider her plan. "Trent Farley will die before divulging their secret."
"It's worth a try. It'll be fun." She topped off her champagne, then returned the half-full bottle into the silver urn beside the tub. "If we threatened to kill that dog he drags everywhere, then cut off its ears or something, I'll bet he'd tell."
She was getting bloodthirsty. That had the potential to be really dangerous. If someone needed to die like Suzanne, he preferred to use something untraceable like brucine.
He had to steer her back in his direction. "There is one thing we might try. Kelly is very friendly with Exposé's publisher, Matthew Jensen. I wonder if she told him where she's going."
Her lip drooped into the familiar pout she used when she didn't get her way. "We can't very well just call him up and ask."
"No, but what if I posed as someone from Social Services doing a background check for adoption certification?"
"Great idea! Let me call him. He's more likely to tell a woman than a man."
She had a point. It took a few minutes to go over what to say, then phone Matthew Jensen. Standing beside her, they shared the receiver.
He kept a pad of paper and his Mont Blanc pen in his hand in case he needed to jot down instructions. She didn't have the finesse this might take, or he would have gone in the other room and listened on the extension.
"Mr. Jensen," she said when he came on the line, "this is Muriel Ames from the Arizona State Department of Social Services. I'm reviewing an application filed by Mr. and Mrs. Logan McCord to be certified to adopt. Kelly McCord listed you as a personal reference."
"I'll be happy to give her a reference." Jensen didn't seem surprised. "I've known Kelly since we were at Yale together. She's a fabulous person. She'll make a great mother." Jensen went on and on, about Saint Kelly's career and boring them.
"Do you know Mr. McCord?" she interrupted.
"I've never met him."
There was a hint of curtness to his voice, a certain finality. Jensen was about to hang up. He scribbled the next question on the pad as she stalled, asking him if he knew Trent Farley, a fair question considering the newlyweds were planning to live with him for a time.
She glanced down, read what he'd written, then asked, "Do you know of any reason the McCords should be denied an adoption certificate? Anything at all?"
"No … not really."
"If it's a minor problem, we can provide excellent counseling." He gave her credit for picking up on the slight hitch in Jensen's voice.
"It's not a problem exactly. It's the whole situation. Logan McCord was an illegitimate child. Now he's married Kelly and is going to Venezuela to adopt her late husband's illegitimate son. I'm not certain about how Logan McCord will
deal with this, considering his own troubled past. I suggest allowing them to go to the Elorza orphanage and adopt Rafael Zamora, but I would counsel them for a time to see if McCord is adjusting properly."
"I'll be handling the case myself," she assured him. "I'll see they get what help they may need. I know you're a busy man, Mr. Jensen. Thank you for your time."
She slammed the receiver down with a delighted shriek. "Hot damn! I did it! I did it!"
"You were great."
"This calls for a celebration." She poured the last of the champagne into her glass. "I have a new toy. It's a really big vibrator. It's called a Joystick."
* * *
"I'm scared," Kelly admitted.
Logan pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, dragging back a hank of chestnut-brown hair. "Of what?"
"A hundred things maybe more."
They were sitting under an elm in Elorza's only sidewalk café. After three days in Caracas, taking the initial steps in the international adoption process, they had finally been granted the necessary papers. Traveling south in their rental car, they'd driven across the llanos, a vast plain like the pampas.
It was spring and lagoons filled with small crocodiles called babas dotted the plains. Clouds of colorful birds in dazzling colors from brilliant crimson to iridescent green would unexpectedly erupt from the ponds. There would be so many of them that they would block the sun like a giant cloud.
The awesome landscape had distracted Kelly, but it was ungodly hot. The air conditioning in the car had wheezed to nothing more than a whisper of warm air a few hours out of Caracas. Wet heat had surfed across the blacktop road in visible waves. What would it be like in the dead of summer?
The llanos was cattle country, Venezuela's wild frontier. Caracas had been modern like New York City with most people living in skyscrapers, but this area was isolated. Hours passed before they'd met another car.
It was an interesting country, like none other she had ever visited. She tried to learn as about it and absorb as many local terms as possible, so she could help Rafi remember his native land.
One road linked the villages and Texas-sized ranches called hatos. Elorza was the largest town along the route. There wasn't much choice in accommodations, so they checked into the Vista de Nada which was a posada, a very small hotel.