On Deadly Ground (Devlin Security Force Book 1)

by Susan Vaughan

  A major case of the hots for her had driven out what little was left of his common sense. Hooking up with a client was unprofessional. He’d never done it before. Thomas would have his head. Fine. He obviously wasn’t using it. ¡Imbécil! ¡Bruto!

  She’d slipped out of his bed saying something about needing to sleep in her own bed. Of course she hadn’t stayed the night. Sex was all she wanted. All he wanted.

  Except he wanted her again. Wanted the surprising fire in that cool package. He liked her strength. Determination like hers was rare as a flood in the desert. But he’d seen her cool shell crack. A complicated female. Who fit perfectly in his arms, every curve a magnet for his hands. Remembering her sighs as he caressed her hardened his body all over again.

  So what if they hooked up for the duration? Why not? As long as it didn’t interfere with the job. And as long as he kept it strictly sex. He hadn’t gotten in over his head with a woman yet. No reason he’d start now.

  What would he say? She sure as hell wasn’t talking. Hadn’t said more than two words or looked him in the eye. They’d ignited the bed but it was only sex. Only.

  So why did he spend the night tying the sheets into knots? Every drunken shout outside had popped his eyes open. After she’d left his bed, he headed for the shower. Cranked it all the way cold. Shit, even a cold shower in this climate was too tepid to cool him off. And sitting beside her was burning him up again.

  ¡Malditos!

  He beckoned to the waiter, who was gabbing with the bartender as he washed glasses. “Mas café, por favor. Café negro.” No milk for him, even if it was local custom. He needed his caffeine undiluted. Especially this morning.

  After both their cups were refilled, he dived in. Needed to get past this thorn bush between them so they could at least be civil. “Kate, about last night, I—”

  “Max Rivera, don’t you dare apologize.” Her fork clattered onto her plate. “I wanted you. You wanted me. We had a fabulous time. And if you’re worrying I might sue for sexual harassment, please.”

  He scratched his chin, fighting a smile and the urge to kiss her. “Whoa, darlin’, I never apologize for great sex. Yes, it was unprofessional of me and Thomas would have my hide if he knew, but that’s as far as my regrets go. What I started to say was I’d understand if you felt last night was a mistake. But if that was our only time together, it’d be a damn shame.”

  A rosy pink climbed her neck and spread into her hairline. “Unusual as compliments go, but I’ll take it. And last night was most definitely not a mistake.”

  He nodded, conceding he’d have to see where things went.

  His phone jangled, and in his haste to set down his cup, he sloshed hot liquid onto his hand. Kate dabbed at his skin with her napkin as he growled a greeting into the phone.

  “Easy, big fella.” Mara Marton’s voice blared in his ear. On some satellite connections, you had to shout. Not this one. Loud and clear. He held the receiver away an inch. “Jungle fever got you already?”

  “Sorry.” He handed Kate her napkin and mouthed a thank-you. “Late night.” He related the events at the gala but didn’t go beyond that.

  Kate sipped her coffee and was finally eating her eggs. Her gaze flicked to him as he finished his report. She smiled and looked away.

  “Sedgwick, Lopez, Aguilar, and some mustachioed local.” The DSF researcher clucked her tongue. “And those are the ones we know about. Should I tell Devlin you need backup?”

  “I’m good. Better to keep a low profile. What’s going on?” He stretched out his legs.

  A heavy sigh on the other end. “The tremors, Max, they’re getting more frequent, stronger.”

  “No shit. A couple rocked us here yesterday.” Not to mention the quake rocking his bed last night. Damn, now he needed another tepid shower. He grabbed a gulp of coffee.

  “Then you know why I’m calling. It’s not just the tremors. The stress on the fault lines has increased in magnitude from the date the statue was stolen from the temple to the twentieth anniversary, then to the fortieth, and to now. It’s no longer safe, for you or the client.” The high pitch of Mara’s voice was a measure of her worry.

  “Unless Devlin has a man set for an extraction, nothing I can do.”

  “Lucas Del Rio is poking around there, but no luck so far on locating Doug Fontaine.”

  “Then we keep to schedule. News on... my other thing?” Kate didn’t seem to be paying attention to his side of the conversation. She was gazing out at the plaza.

  “Not yet. I sent descriptions to Interpol. The Corinthian bronze helmet and the Nike amphora. If Fontaine bought those illegally, we’ll find out.”

  At Kate’s sharp intake of breath, he groaned. Shit, she’d heard. Maybe not all, but enough. Thanks to Mara’s dialed-up volume. “I’ll check in later. Gotta go.”

  “But the tremors—” she said, as he disconnected.

  “What the hell was that about the pieces Doug bought?” Kate’s blue glare cut into him like a laser, and her mouth was tight. “DSF investigated him? I heard the word illegally too.”

  A wrench was twisting his gut. Hell and high water, no way out of it. He had to level. Shit, he was no good at subtlety anyway. Behind them, the waiter and bartender stopped chatting. Listening? Maybe they understood more English than he thought.

  He shot to his feet and jerked a nod toward the archway leading to the plaza. “Not here.”

  She slung her camera case over a shoulder and stalked outside.

  The plaza stretched before them, steam rising from puddles, vendors still setting out their wares, other people striding past the stalls on their way to work. Max urged Kate to the left past a bakery, where aromas of honeyed pastries and tortillas flavored the air.

  She stopped in the shade of a bougainvillea the size of a small car and planted her feet among the fallen red blossoms. “Far enough. I need an explanation.”

  He’d feared from the outset this wouldn’t work. A la madre. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yes, DSF and Interpol investigated your brother. They suspect he’s had dealings with Centaur, and some of his other deals were also illegal.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Like the amphora and the helmet.”

  “Interpol hasn’t gotten back to Mara on those.” He held out his hands. “Look, I never wanted to mislead you. Devlin ordered me to find out what I could about Doug’s business.” That wasn’t all, but all he ought to say.

  She huffed. “Thomas will hear from me about that. And Istanbul? Did you mislead me about what happened there?”

  “What I told you was true.”

  She shook her head. “But you didn’t tell me everything, did you?”

  “Hell, you might as well have it all. I insisted Doug turn the bronze snake head over to the Istanbul Archeological Museum, and he offered me money.” When she shook her head in apparent disbelief, he added, “Yeah, money. He tried to pay me off. When I refused and hauled out my phone, he shoved the piece at me and disappeared into the crowd.”

  She huffed. “Doug is impulsive and reckless. But he’s not a criminal. If he bought a stolen item, he didn’t know and panicked when you told him. When we find him, he’ll clear all this up. The Centaur part too.” She started to walk back to the plaza, then turned. “You do still intend to take me to K’eq Xlapak, to rescue my brother?”

  Shit, he should’ve told Mara to tone it down. The truth would’ve come out sometime, but why’d it have to be now? After last night? Kate’s skeptical tone said she was back to square one, not trusting him. For much of anything. He knew about trust, and about betrayal. Nestor had taught him that no matter what others did, a real man kept his promises.

  He firmed his jaw. “I made a vow a long time ago to always keep my commitments. I’ll keep you safe while we go to the restoration. Count on it. And DSF has sent another agent to find your brother.”

  “I keep my commitments too. This trip covers two of them.” Her chin trembled, then lifted. “This DSF agent, can we cont
act him, find out what he knows?”

  “No can do. Protocol. Safer to keep different missions separate. We go through Mara. When Del Rio gets closer to finding your brother, I’ll get the word to be in contact.”

  “I see.” She turned and walked away.

  Back to all business. Probably for the best. Then why did he feel like he’d explode if he didn’t have her again? He couldn’t think of the last time a woman affected him like this. He shook himself back to reality and jogged ahead.

  “Kate, wait up. Mara warned me about the seismic data.” A few strides and he joined her on the hotel steps. He summarized the increasing danger. “By the calendar we have eleven days, but seismic time may be different. We buy supplies and go.”

  Her shoulders shifted in a small shudder before she nodded. “No time to waste. Agreed.” She pointed to her watch. “Nine fifteen. Arturo and Constantino should’ve been here by now. They seemed so eager.”

  “I know what you’re thinking. Another snafu. But time is more fluid in Central America. Give them a few minutes.”

  Sirens broke the morning’s peace as two blue-and-white police cars screamed to a halt across the plaza. A woman rushed out of a store and pointed to the adjacent alley.

  “What’s going on?” Shading her eyes with one hand, Kate stretched up on tiptoes.

  Prickling on the back of his neck warned him to check it out. “Maybe the shop was robbed. Hard to say.”

  Her forehead crimped. “Constantino and Arturo...”

  “Whatever’s wrong across the plaza can have nothing to do with them.” What about those shouts he heard last night? “If it makes you feel better, I’ll check it out. Stay here in case they arrive.”

  By the time he made his way across the plaza, a crowd had gathered around the cop cars and in front of the shops.

  As the sun climbed, so did the heat and humidity. Not like the dry heat of his month in Egypt. Sweat beaded his forehead and stuck his shirt to him like melting wax.

  To the crowd in general he asked what happened.

  The man beside him shrugged. “No sé, señor.”

  He didn’t know. Max rubbed his nape. Damn prickles.

  He wove through the crowd until he reached the shop. Everybody was too engrossed in the commotion in the alley to pay him any mind—including the cops. One uniform was interviewing the agitated woman inside her shop. The other three clustered around the trash bins.

  Edging around a hanging rack of embroidered dresses placed him close to the alley, where crime scene tape blocked entry. He peered around the corner.

  A man sprawled on his side as if sleeping. Even twenty feet away Max knew death when he saw it. Blood spattered the cement around the man’s head, his face battered beyond recognition. He wore one sandal and the other lay in a puddle. Max’s sense of dread had been right. He pounded a fist into his other palm.

  He heard a gasp at his elbow and, “No!”

  Kate. She stepped forward, her face white as ashes.

  He snapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her against his chest.

  “You don’t want to see this.” No sense reminding her he told her to stay put. He cupped her head and held her.

  “But, Max.” Her words caught on a sob. “It’s Constantino.”

  “Yeah.” He recognized the T-shirt. He shuddered at the image of crimson smears across the four Kiss faces.

  Kate trembled against him but held herself stiffly as if resisting his comfort. Couldn’t blame her.

  Who had killed Constantino? Which of the greedy bastards wanted Kizin enough to beat one of their guides to death?

  And where was Arturo?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kate descended the steps of the Comisaria de Cabo Blanco. The police station’s cheerful orange stucco walls belied the seedy hostility inside.

  A few dusty police cars sat at the curb. A water vendor wheeled his cart down the empty street followed by a couple of skinny cats. Two shorts-clad men seated on the other side of the station steps smoked cigars. One wore an Atlanta Braves cap. Neither man gave her a glance.

  She slid on sunglasses against the Costa Verde sun. Doug should be here on such a day. Here to tease her with that glint in his eyes. Here to join her in returning Kizin. She’d give anything to have her baby brother well and safe.

  Sitting on the top step, resting the camera bag on her lap, she willed Max to come out of the station.

  Max.

  A deep ache twisted her mid-section, and she hunched over the bag. Last night had been a mistake. She’d let the mood and the sexual voltage between them evaporate her usual common sense. Why couldn’t it have been mediocre sex, forgettable sex, instead of incredible sex?

  The wrong time, the wrong man. Dammit, why’d she have to be so attracted to this man she couldn’t trust, at least about her brother. He—and Thomas Devlin—were wrong about Doug.

  Nothing she could do for now. She had no choice but to trust DSF’s other agent to rescue Doug and trust Max to take her and Kizin safely to K’eq Xlapak. Beyond that, nothing personal, only professional distance.

  When she’d questioned whether he’d follow through, he bristled. His tight-jawed assurance that he always kept his commitments triggered old memories. A promise broken, that to this day gave her guilty twinges. Another kept, one that set her course. The third, that led her down this road. The image of her dad in pain never left her. Hands that once were strong and vital had barely been able to hold hers as he demanded her promises.

  Her heart pounded an unsteady rhythm and a shallow throbbing settled deep in her skull. She closed her eyes for a moment, but it didn’t help, not in this heat.

  She wanted Esteban to know what was happening and started to take out her satellite phone, but it was too soon for Arturo to reach the village—if that’s where he went. She fanned herself with one hand and looked back at the orange building.

  No Max.

  Unease crawled over her skin. Or was that more sweat?

  What was taking so long? The police had taken their statements already.

  After finding Kate’s name and hotel on a piece of paper in Constantino’s pocket, the police searched their rooms. She’d held her breath during their cursory check of the camera bag, but no one noticed the secret compartment. Then they were hustled to the comisaria for questioning.

  First they waited in a drab, hot room with a tiny window and no fan. A room that smelled of rancid peppers and unwashed bodies. She wrinkled her nose, still smelling the rankness. For hours she stewed in her own perspiration. No one told them anything about the murder or Arturo.

  Finally the detective took their statements. He accepted Kate’s cover story of photographing the restoration as the reason for their presence in Costa Verde and apologized profusely for the delays. At five o’clock the police released them with instructions to notify the police if Arturo contacted them. Max had stopped at the exit, saying he would join her in a minute.

  Nerves eating at her empty stomach, Kate looked at her watch. That had been ten minutes ago. Where the hell was he?

  As if in response, Max appeared in the doorway and bounded down the steps.

  “That took longer than I expected, dar— Kate.”

  Thank God he was whole. But why the grim face? She wanted to hug him. Rising to her feet, she hugged her bag. “What was that about?”

  He guided her left along the crumbled sidewalk. “The hotel’s only a few blocks this way. Let’s walk.”

  She cut him a sideways glance. He must have something to tell her that he didn’t want overheard. “Sure. I need fresh air after that stifling experience.”

  He halted, giving her the once-over. “They didn’t lay a hand on you, did they?”

  She couldn’t help smiling at his solicitousness. “I’m fine. All the detective laid on me was a glower no fiercer than my mother’s.”

  He gave a sharp nod and hurried her along at a fast clip. After crossing the next street, they passed a small grocery with oran
ges and mangos piled in outside bins. When they reached a grassy park where mothers wheeled baby carriages and small children kicked balls, he slowed their pace.

  He pulled her into the shade of a palm tree. “I have the scoop on what the cops know. They think Constantino was beaten and killed sometime between midnight and two o’clock. The brothers were seen in a cantina near the central plaza talking to two men. The bartender recognized one because of a big scar on his cheek. Said he thought the guy was in the Costa Verde army.”

  “That points to General Lopez.”

  “Or el presidente.”

  Kate shook her head at all the possibilities. “They would tell me nothing. How did you find this out?”

  He held up a hand and rubbed his fingers and thumb together. “Money talks. Especially American dollars. I’ll add it to my bill.”

  She should’ve known. “Do you have more to tell me?”

  “Not much. The cop said our break-in might be connected or it might not. He wouldn’t commit. Constantino and his brother’s employer told the cops where they were staying, a thatched hut at the edge of the city. A few pieces of clothing in a rucksack that seemed to belong to Constantino. More rock-band T-shirts. Arturo’s pack was gone.”

  She licked her lips. “If his pack was gone, he might be safe.”

  “Then we’d better hope he headed home. If he shows up here, they’ll arrest him for his brother’s murder.”

  A hot sunburst kindled in her chest. Not that gentle-eyed Maya, no. “I can’t imagine him beating his brother to death. The murder has to be connected to Kizin.” The attack on her brother and his kidnapping, and now a death. “Sometimes I wish I’d never heard of Kizin. What now?” She drew in a deep breath, banking her fury.

  Max took her arm. “Let’s keep moving. We have supplies to buy and we’ll need new guides.”

  She walked faster. “Are you certain we can make it in time?”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Not much about this operation is certain.”

  ***