Decoded

by Debra Webb

  The pain in Victoria’s eyes ripped at his heart. “Renae. She called herself Renae back then. That name was never officially connected to her. She has many aliases, all dead ends as far as tracking her activities.”

  “Is it true that she looks enough like me that we could be sisters?”

  Lucas had known this question was coming. To her credit, Victoria had not allowed personal feelings to get in the way of what had to be done. Maggie James needed their help. Slade Keaton needed to answer for his deceptions. The Dragon needed to be stopped. At least three countries had extermination leases on her head.

  “There was a time when the resemblance was quite striking,” Lucas confessed. He thought back to the evil woman with whom he had foolishly allowed himself to become involved, however briefly. “But she’s nothing like you, Victoria.” He squeezed her hand. “Not in any way. She is pure evil.”

  “Yet,” Victoria acknowledged quietly, “you were still drawn to her on some level.”

  He swallowed back the bitter taste the memories prompted. “There were times when lines were crossed for the sake of the mission.”

  Victoria smoothed the pad of her thumb over his hand. “I’m aware that accomplishing the mission required great sacrifice at times.”

  “That’s true.” He couldn’t allow the question she wanted to ask to trouble her a moment longer. The answer, however, carried baggage of its own. “Victoria.” He waited until her gaze was locked solidly on his. “I have loved you from the moment I first saw you.” A tiny, weary smile tilted her lips. “But you belonged to my best friend, so for more than two decades, I accepted your dear friendship as gift enough.”

  Tears welled in her dark eyes. The last thing he’d wanted was to add to her pain.

  “I love you, Lucas. I genuinely hope I was worth the wait.”

  Slowly, not taking his eyes off hers, he drew her hand to his lips and placed a kiss there. “Indeed, I would still be waiting if need be. I would gladly wait an eternity for you.”

  Lucas would protect her with his life. Whatever sacrifice was necessary…he would keep Victoria safe.

  Chapter Seven

  Mexico, 5:20 p.m.

  Airsickness. Slade thought that was Maggie’s problem. Maybe the turbulence was part of the problem. She hoped this morning was no indication of how the first trimester of this pregnancy was going to go. Her sisters had complained at great length about their morning sickness experiences. More bouts like this and Slade might become suspicious. The situation was dire enough; Maggie didn’t need him questioning her. She wasn’t ready to face that decision.

  The truth was, she couldn’t say for sure how she would hold up under his questioning. Like an addict, she could resist only so much temptation.

  “We’ll wait here for a time.”

  He scanned the street, then crossed to a seedy cantina nestled between a boarded-up shop and a tourist trap. Maggie followed. A cloud of disbelief hovered around her. Here she was—pregnant and fleeing from a danger she couldn’t comprehend, with a man she couldn’t trust.

  A smart woman would have made a run for it back at the motel or the airfield… Apparently she wasn’t so smart. Maggie kept hanging on to the thread of remote possibility that there was a perfectly logical explanation for all this. Maybe he was a spy who couldn’t blow his cover.

  Right, and she was a Bond girl.

  Her Spanish ranked right around deplorable. Slade’s, on the other hand, was incredible. And not just his ability to speak and to understand the words. He spoke the language as if it were his mother tongue, with flair and confidence. She’d had no idea. Something else to add to her “didn’t know” list.

  They had hitched a ride from the airfield with a local who traveled among the private airfields on the outskirts of Mexico City picking up what he called gringos and hauling them to the city. For a fee, of course. Considering Maggie would wager her savings that the airfield at which they had arrived—the same one the pilot had resisted diverting to—was unofficial, she imagined they were viewed as anything but tourists or business travelers to the guy. Apparently, as long as they paid, that was all that mattered. The most unsettling part was how adept Slade appeared at handling all these by-the-seat-of-his-pants maneuvers.

  Slade had instructed the driver to drop them off far from the center of the city. This little neighborhood was definitely way, way off the main street. One last time she surveyed the narrow cobblestone path that was so unlike the streets back home, then she went inside. There were somewhat sleazy areas like this one in Chicago; most big cities had their not-so-charming districts. The broken-down storefronts and graffiti-covered walls, the hustlers on the street, some young enough to be in elementary school, were par for the course in areas like that. The occasional food and trinket shop reminded her of Chinatown back home, only this area wasn’t as clean.

  Maggie chastised herself for having such a low opinion of a place she’d never before visited. Frankly, all that she’d heard on the news lately about the area contributed to that. Still, she should keep an open mind.

  Slade surveyed the vacant tables and gestured to one. “You want something to eat?” He sat down in the chair across from her, the door within his view.

  Maggie knew she should eat, but after the unpleasant episode at breakfast and then the trouble in flight, she wasn’t so sure she wanted a repeat performance. Besides, who knew what they served in a place like this. Mostly tequila, she imagined. The few patrons stationed around the place appeared to be more interested in the drinks the cantina offered than any food that might be on the menu.

  She shook her head. “Maybe later.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Slade stood and walked to the counter.

  Maggie watched as he ordered two of something. He pulled out his cell phone and took a call. He kept his back to her for most of the conversation, not that she could read lips, but she would have liked to observe his face. Right. Like she could have accurately read anything he allowed her to see there. She was about as good at discerning his thoughts and mood as she was at understanding the local language. She picked up the occasional word here and there but otherwise she was in the dark. The language barrier made being here under the circumstances even more daunting.

  Eventually he returned to the table, a bottle of water in each hand. Maggie’s throat tightened. Water would be good. She’d had a bottle on the plane, but she hadn’t been able to keep it down. Her luck might prove better now that her feet were planted firmly on the ground.

  In Mexico.

  What would her staff think? They would be frantic. And if one of her sisters happened to call or received a call from one of her employees or the police… Maggie didn’t even want to think about that. The last thing she wanted was for her family to worry.

  “Thank you.” Maggie accepted the offered refreshment. She wanted to ask what happened now, but she’d figured out that he would tell her what he wanted her to know when he wanted her to know it. For now, there wasn’t a lot she could do about the situation. That said, her job was to pay attention just in case she found herself on her own at some point before this was over. The idea that Slade could be killed sent a new wave of misery washing over her.

  She had been tempted to call for help while she’d had Slade’s phone back at the airfield outside St. Louis, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. An ache echoed deep in her chest. She needed to know more about the trouble he was facing. He’d said the police couldn’t protect them. When she wasn’t in the toilet on the flight, she’d spent a lot of time thinking about how she could help herself and help Slade. She had to call the Colby Agency. If anyone could help them, Victoria and Lucas could. She had watched the Colby Agency in action early last year when the building had been under siege. They had used her coffee shop as a temporary headquarters. No one was better at analyzing and rectifying trouble.

  First, she needed to understand what Slade and she were up against. Then she would have to convince him to go along with
the idea. She had a feeling she was dreaming on that part.

  “I’ve arranged for a car and other supplies.”

  That was a start. “Is she here? In Mexico?”

  He didn’t meet Maggie’s eyes. “She’s here.”

  Fear erupted into knots in her belly. “Is that why we’re here?”

  This time he looked her straight in the eyes. “In part.”

  She tightened her hold on the bottle to prevent him from seeing her tremble. “What does she want?”

  Three, four, then five seconds ticked off. “She wants me.”

  A crushing sensation settled in Maggie’s chest. “You said the less I know the better, but—” she chewed her lower lip “—does she have a score to settle with you? Was there a falling-out between the two of you? Is she angry over something you did?”

  He leaned forward, looked down a moment as if searching for patience or perhaps the proper words. “That I’m breathing disturbs her.”

  Maggie prodded her voice around the lump in her throat. “How long has this been…an issue?”

  “Long time.” He relaxed into his chair and took a long swallow of the water.

  How could he be so relaxed? “You’ve successfully avoided her all this time?”

  He stared at Maggie, analyzing her but giving away nothing of his own thoughts. “You’re treading into territory that won’t give you the definitiveness you’re looking for. It’s a waste of energy.”

  What was that supposed to mean? “Why can’t you disappear the way you have before? Avoid the confron tation rather than running straight into it?” If he had avoided her for so many years, he had to have relocated numerous times. Obviously he possessed the necessary skills and resources. Why was he walking right into the fire now?

  Those dark gray eyes bored into hers. “There are complications this time. I made a mistake by staying in one place too long. Now I can’t run.”

  She—Maggie—was the mistake he’d made. Misery heaped onto her chest. “What can you do?”

  More of those trauma-filled seconds elapsed. Maggie waited on pins and needles. Who was this woman to him? Why did she want to harm him?

  “There’s only one thing I can do.”

  Maggie held her breath.

  “End this once and for all.” He glanced toward the dingy window at the front of the cantina, then he stood. “Our car has arrived.”

  Like him, Maggie had run out of options, as well.

  She trailed behind him, her heart sinking lower with each step.

  Coyoacán Borough, Mexico City, 6:40 p.m.

  THE SMALL FLAT WAS A BIG STEP up from the motel where they’d crashed outside Chicago. The old woman, Lavena, was not exactly a friend of Slade’s but she certainly wasn’t an enemy. She had helped him out when he was a kid. He couldn’t recall how she had come to be in his life, but she had always been there at least on the fringes. Later, he had returned the favor by providing the resources for renovations to the building that had been in her family for five generations. The city officials had hoped to force her out by condemning the property, then taking it for other purposes. Lavena had shown the bastards but good.

  The old woman was well into her sixties by now. Her hair had grown thin and gray and her back stooped, but she could fire a weapon as good as a man half her age.

  There was no one else Slade could trust now that McCain was gone. Lavena hated the Dragon. She had her own reasons, which she refused to discuss with Slade. Whatever those reasons, Lavena would like nothing better than to annoy the woman she hated so. She considered keeping Maggie tucked out of reach an honor, and an opportunity to twist the proverbial knife.

  As soon as he had Maggie settled, Slade intended to set his own final strategy in motion. He would strike before sunrise. The darkness would give him some advantage. His about-face in strategy would provide an element of surprise. The Dragon would expect him to do exactly as he had always done—run. Find a new place and name and lay low until she found him again.

  Not this time. This time he intended to fight to the death.

  Striking fast was essential. He would not allow Lavena to be more collateral damage in this war. If her support of Slade was discovered before he completed his mission, she would die. He was not without honor.

  He would not let that happen.

  The Colby Agency and their allies would have feelers out all over for Maggie and for him. Slade’s jaw hardened with fury. They had done more than enough already. He understood their intentions, but they had no idea what they had done.

  When this was over, he would send Maggie back to them and he would disappear.

  There was nothing for him in Chicago.

  The sound of water spraying in the shower seemed to mock his conclusion. He dismissed the notion.

  Maggie James had been a pawn, nothing more. He wanted no harm to come to her but that was as far as his attachment went. She would be far better off without him, despite what she might feel at the moment. He was better off alone.

  A knock at the entry drew his attention from the closed bathroom door. He moved to the window at the front of the flat near the door. A peek between the drab curtains and Slade confirmed that Lavena’s grandson, Ramondo, had arrived with supplies. Slade opened the door and stepped back for the man to enter. He looked to be about twenty. According to Lavena, he took care of maintenance for the flats she rented in the old mission she called home. In addition to the maintenance, Ramondo did errands, all in exchange for a place to live.

  Sounded like a hell of a deal to Slade. Nothing he’d ever done for his so-called mother had garnered him so much as a thank-you. More often than not, he’d gotten disciplined for his overabundance of ambition or lack of submission.

  Slade thanked the man and secured the door behind him. He took his time putting away the food and other supplies Maggie would need for a few days. Lavena would see to it that she had anything she needed. All Slade had to do was convince Maggie to stay put and not to call anyone until he gave her clearance to do so.

  He paused, stared at the jacket she’d left on the sofa. Maggie had worked so hard to accomplish a good life. She was smart and hardworking and she deserved way better than him. She deserved her life back and the opportunity to find someone who would love her as unconditionally as she loved Slade.

  A muscle in his jaw began to throb. No one had ever loved him before. Not the way Maggie did. But he didn’t possess the capacity or ability to love her back. Not like that. He felt protective of her and he…enjoyed her body…but that wasn’t the same thing.

  When she’d had time to think about all this, she would thank him.

  MAGGIE TOLD HERSELF TO SHUT off the water. It had long ago gone cold.

  But she couldn’t move.

  Her body ached from deep within. She shook all over as if she were going into shock. Fear writhed like a snake fighting for its life inside her, sending quakes along her limbs. What had she done?

  At least one man was dead. Dead. She’d told herself over and over that if Slade hadn’t killed him he would have killed her. Clearly, the act had been in her defense and yet she couldn’t banish the horror. A man was dead because of her association with Slade.

  She was in Mexico with no documentation of who she was. No driver’s license, no passport, not even a library card. How would she get home? How would she protect her baby? Her insurance card was in her purse back in Chicago. In less than twenty-four hours her calm, predictable life had spiraled out of control. That wasn’t entirely true. The spin had started two years ago when Slade Keaton walked into her coffee shop for the first time.

  He intended to kill this woman called the Dragon. He claimed he had no other choice. Did Maggie’s knowledge of his intent make her an accessory? Dear God, if she found a way to get to the police and warn them, would she be costing Slade his only chance of survival?

  What should she do? Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot, salty and devastating. She didn’t want the father of her child to die. All s
he wanted was him out of her life. Denial thrust against her breastbone. If that was true, what was she doing here, aiding and abetting him?

  Who was she kidding? She was a victim. He’d kidnapped her. He swore the act had been to protect her, but how could she simply take his word? Every single thing he had told her, including his name, was a lie.

  Victim. Maggie closed her eyes. She had promised herself she would never again be a victim on any level, not after the divorce.

  She straightened, dared her body to tremble. Reaching for the ancient valve, she shut off the water and grabbed the towel she’d slung over the shower rod. Whatever she had to do to free herself of this nightmare, she would do it. She owed Slade Keaton nothing, least of all her allegiance. This waffling back and forth was stupid and cowardly. She had to be smart and strong.

  While toweling off her body, she mentally listed all the reasons she had for walking away from him. The baby’s safety. Her own. The life she had built in Chicago. Her family and friends.

  What had he offered her? Heartache. Fear. Uncertainty. And all three of those had been doled out to her before this nightmare had even begun. Outrage sparked deep in her soul at the idea of how she had lain awake at night waiting for him. So many, many times. If he hadn’t shown she lapsed into a pathetic depression. Her soul hungered for him on every level. She felt as if she were dying without him.

  That was what he had done for her.

  She draped the damp towel on the side of the tub and reached for the clothes his elderly friend had provided. Cotton slacks and a long-sleeved blouse that, though clean and in good condition, weren’t from either of the past two decades. She pulled on the borrowed socks and frowned. Where were her shoes?

  Her attention shifted to the door that separated her from him. This flat had only two rooms, a large living area that included a bed in one corner and then this tiny bathroom. He would be out there waiting for his turn to shower.

  Anticipation lit in her blood, made her heart pound with hope. She could make a run for it while he was in the shower. Surely he would take five minutes and that would provide a decent head start.