by Gayle Wilson
Paul made a quick survey of the room. Rafe was still sitting on the floor, eyes closed, his head back, resting against the shattered stone facing of the fireplace behind him. Retracing the damage with her gaze, Rae again wondered how he’d escaped injury.
Hardesty glanced at her, for guidance maybe, and she shook her head. She had said nothing else to Rafe after she’d made the rejected offer to help him up.
Hardesty walked over to Rafe and squatted down, blocking her view. Whatever he said was too softly spoken for Rae to hear, and she knew that was deliberate, so she turned back to watch the police put the cuffs on Grajales. It appeared she or Rafe had broken the man’s nose, which was streaming blood. Whatever his injuries, he certainly wasn’t putting up any resistance. All his fight had dissolved when Rafe had separated him from the gun. Little men, big guns, Rae thought derisively.
She was aware when Hardesty stood. He walked back to the Oriental carpet in front of the ivory sofa and bent down to retrieve the crutches.
Rae turned back to watch the cops finish up. There wasn’t much going on in the room now. Not much else to pretend to watch.
Suddenly Hardesty’s arm was around her shoulder.
“Come on,” he said, applying pressure to pull her with him. “You can tell me what happened.”
“Now?”
“Right now. Outside,” Hardesty said.
She looked up into the clear blue eyes. He squeezed her hard, holding her close against him, and said it again, an order.
“Come on, Rae.”
Obedient as always, she let Paul take her outside.
Chapter Fourteen
“Is he all right?” Rae asked, as Paul led her across the foyer.
“He’s fine,” Paul assured, adding another squeeze with the arm that was still around her shoulders.
They stood in the chill of the December afternoon watching the cops load the bad guys, living and dead, into the appropriate vehicles. They didn’t say much to each other while the officers were around.
The cold felt good, making her know she was still alive, fighting the effects of the adrenaline rush. She breathed in several lungfuls of the winter air and said a couple of prayers. Her dad had told her that you never had time to be afraid while it was going down. The real fear came before and after. While things were happening, it all was crystal clear and in slow motion. Every move.
She shivered suddenly, rubbing her hands up and down the sleeves of her sweatshirt.
“I think you owe me some explanations,” she said to Paul.
“Where do you want me to start?” he asked.
“How much of what you told me that night in my apartment was true?”
“Most of it. The man Stewart suggested we call in to find the traitor was Ramirez, of course.”
“Rafe was your hacker?”
“Don’t let him hear you call him a hacker. He doesn’t believe in invading systems. The cartel’s he did for obvious reasons—to avenge his brother. And he agreed to try to find the traitor in the task force because he had a vested interest in discovering who was trying to locate the courier.”
“Because he was the courier.”
“To protect his family. The cartels would have used anyone he loved to force him to find Escobar’s millions for them.”
That was what Grajales had threatened. To use her to make Rafe locate the hidden money.
“Grajales was Kyle’s original employer,” Paul went on, “but Kyle had strung him along about as far as he could. Peters didn’t really know anything, and Grajales would figure that out eventually. To trap our traitor, we had discreetly put the word out that another player would pay big for the name of the man who’d revealed the money-laundering operations. Because he knew Grajales was bound to get wise, Kyle was more than eager to take our bait.”
“You were the voice on the phone,” she realized. It’s Hardesty. Paul had been working with Rafe, and his name had been identification, not another betrayal by Kyle.
“Making arrangements to take Peters when he showed up the next day for his money, his payment for giving Ramirez your name. Only, your phone call warned him things weren’t what they seemed. So Peters came early to the rendezvous to find out what was going on. To kill you all.”
“Rafe and Diego weren’t waiting for the cartel. They were waiting for you.”
“If you hadn’t shot Kyle, we would have been too late.”
“Who’s Grajales? He seemed to think I should recognize his name.”
“A wannabe. With the Colombian government making arrests at the top of Cali, there are a lot of guys hoping to step up to take their place on the gravy train.”
“You knew he was still out there, still looking for the courier, and you didn’t tell me? What the hell, Paul?”
“Kyle had already broken off with him to sell to Ramirez, to us. The best-case scenario was that, having lost his link to the task force, Grajales would give up, sink back into the slime. The Colombian government was finally coming down hard, and we thought whoever was involved in trying to find the courier would back off the search that had led them nowhere. And Grajales did disappear. We tried to find him after Ramirez gave us his name.”
“And what about the worst-case scenario?” she asked. “That he’d come after me. You left me hanging, Paul.”
“I kept you under protective surveillance for a long time, Rae. While you were in rehab, and even after you came back to work. But then it went so long, almost six months, and there was nothing. No hint that anyone knew your name, that anyone was even looking for the courier anymore, so we felt the threat was over. It seems we were wrong,” Paul admitted,
“Yeah,” Rae said. “Real wrong.”
“You know I’d never deliberately put you in danger, Rae. You know that.”
And she believed him. She always believed him, so she let it go. Besides, she wanted to ask something else—something that hadn’t been explained by what he’d said before.
“Was it part of your plan for Rafe to abduct me?”
“No,” Paul admitted. “Ramirez, as you can imagine, didn’t trust any of us. He wanted to protect his family from reprisals, but he wasn’t willing to play by our rules, given the fact that we’d admitted we had a traitor on the force.”
“He took me because he thought I might be the traitor?”
Paul didn’t say anything for a moment.
“You want the truth?” he asked finally.
“That would be nice. For a change.”
A small flush crawled into the smoothly shaven cheeks.
“I guess I deserve that,” he said. “I think the truth is that when we told him what had been happening in the task force, about the deaths, he was afraid you’d be next. You’d been closest to the courier. The nearest link. He knew that. He knew what would happen if the cartel discovered that fact.”
And Kyle had already given Grajales her name. If Diego hadn’t taken her that night, she would have been next, she realized. She shivered again, thinking about what had been done to the others.
“And,” Paul continued, “I think maybe he just wanted to see you again. The deal we’d set up gave him an excuse.”
“He accused me of selling out the courier.”
“The first thing Kyle did was try to convince him you were the traitor. He provided the doctored picture and a record of a supposed payoff as proof.”
“So, at least for a while, he believed I might be the one.” She stopped, thinking again about what he’d said to her. Did you enjoy the sounds he made? Did you watch? How could he have refrained from hurting her if he thought she was the one who had betrayed him? And that was why, of course, poor Diego had injected her with the drug. To find out the truth for the man he served, the master he loved.
“Why didn’t you tell me who he was? After it was all over.”
“It was the only thing he had ever asked me for, Rae, in return for all he’d done. We owed him. I gave him the promise he wanted because I didn’t have an
y choice.”
“Did you know…” She hesitated. “Before I told you, did you know what had happened between us? Did he tell you?”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out how he felt when you were shot. I thought he was going to kill me and Dell for letting you get hurt.”
“You could have given me some hint, Hardesty. Something.”
“I tried to give you the damn tape. I thought you might recognize his voice. I thought that—”
“On the phone,” Rae interrupted. “That’s what almost happened on the phone today. I almost recognized his voice.”
Was that why she had trusted him from the first? Because burned somewhere into her subconscious was the memory of the courier’s whisper? And even of the elusive scent of his body? Had her heart made the connection her mind had never remembered?
“You want some advice?” Paul asked. The flush was back and he didn’t meet her eyes.
“About him?”
“Yeah. I guess. I never saw myself as ‘advice to the lovelorn,’ but in this case, I feel like some inept, middle-aged Cupid.”
Rae laughed. “Okay. What’s the advice?”
“He won’t tell you how he feels.”
“Go on,” she said, knowing that was probably true.
“You’re going to have to take that on faith. And if you want it to work, Rae, don’t treat him…any differently.”
That was what she’d done after he’d shot Grajales’s men. That was why he’d been angry.
“You even sound like Ann Landers,” she said, but Paul’s eyes were on hers, and they didn’t respond to the gibe. They were clear and open and sincere.
She stood on tiptoe and put her arms around his neck. He hugged her tightly and then stepped back.
“Good luck, Rae,” he said softly. “I really hope you get what you want for Christmas.”
PAUL AND THE officers had left in the gathering twilight, the gate and the front door securely locked behind them, and in the darkened embassy Rae again stood, apprehensively, before the library door. She had reason, she supposed, to be a little paranoid about opening this particular door. Except now she knew the fear that made her hesitate. A fear that she wouldn’t say or do the right thing.
Someone killed my brother… and I thought that wasn’t right. She had not been wrong about the man in Virginia. All the things she had believed about him so long ago were true, despite the lies that had surrounded that night. And finally she knew the reason for those lies.
When she entered the library, Rafe was seated again on the ivory sofa. She walked across the room until she was standing in front of him, just as before, looking down again into those midnight eyes that were wary now, awaiting her reaction.
Suddenly she raised her right hand and slapped him, as hard as she could, holding nothing back. His head turned with it, the force of the blow enough to rock the strong man she knew him to be.
The imprint of her palm was already forming on his cheek when his eyes, full of angry shock, came back to hers.
“That’s for making me think I was nothing to you but a one-night stand,” she said.
Something cold and bitter softened in the midnight depths.
“You were never a one-night stand,” Rafe replied.
“But that’s how you treated me,” she accused softly. “Like someone who didn’t deserve an explanation.”
His lips tightened, but he didn’t defend himself. He never had, she realized. He had chosen at the beginning the path he had thought was right, and he had never deviated from it. Except when, at her invitation, he’d made love to her.
And remembering, she asked, “Now what?”
Involuntarily her thumb touched the trace of blood at the corner of his mouth. She wiped it away, but she didn’t remove her hand. She let her palm rest against his cheek where the mark she had made was changing from livid white to red.
“I think this is where you tell me that…what I am doesn’t matter to you.”
“What you are matters a great deal to me,” she said. “Now that I finally know what you are. The kind of man you are.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You meant physically?”
“Yes.”
“Would you believe me if I said it doesn’t matter?”
When he smiled, she could feel the movement under her hand.
“I’d believe that you think that’s true.”
“But you don’t?”
He said nothing in answer to her question. After a moment she removed her hand and sat down on the littered floor at his feet, cross-legged, to look up into his face.
“What can I do to convince you?” she asked when the silence stretched too long. “To make you believe me?”
“I told you what I want you to do, Rae. Go home to Texas.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“Nothing’s changed.”
She laughed. The sound was wrong, a contrast to his seriousness.
“Everything’s changed. I know that you’re not what you pretended to be. I know that all the things I felt about you weren’t a betrayal of who I am. How can you say that nothing has changed?”
“Nothing’s changed about how I feel.”
And that hurt. Could she be mistaken? Because she loved him, was she assuming he felt the same way? You’ll have to take it on faith, Paul had warned, but if Rafe continued to deny that he wanted her, continued to try to send her away, what could she do to break through that resolve?
“How do you feel?” she asked. She couldn’t ask if he loved her. She knew that wasn’t a question he’d answer, but maybe, if she only asked for what he’d given her before… “Are you telling me you don’t want me? That you don’t want to make love to me?”
She waited a long time, long enough that she had begun to be afraid, before he told her, the black eyes no longer wary, as open now as Paul’s.
“Unlike Hardesty, I can’t lie to you, querida. I want you very much. More than you can imagine.”
“Then…I really don’t understand the problem. It doesn’t seem there’s anything else to talk about.”
She smiled when she saw the remembrance touch his eyes. He studied hers a long time, and she let him look, let him see what she felt. Finally his gaze moved away from that examination to fasten on his hands, the long fingers lying open, spread against the denim-covered thighs.
“That was an invitation,” she said softly.
His lips moved slightly, but he didn’t look at her when he answered.
“I can’t make any commitments, Rae. That hasn’t changed. Someone else may be looking for the man who can find Escobar’s treasure.”
“Could you find it?” she asked, really wondering.
The dark eyes met hers again, and he smiled.
“Probably. Given enough time.”
“Grajales admitted he hadn’t figured it out—who the courier was. No one knows your name.”
“That won’t stop the search. And I don’t want you involved.”
She laughed. “I think it’s a little late for that. I’ve been involved since the beginning. I’m the one whose name Grajales did know.”
“Go home, Rae. Get away from all this.”
“Only if you’ll go with me,” she invited, smiling. “For protection.”
She didn’t realize what he thought until the black ice reformed.
“My protection,” she corrected gently. “You were right. That was some very nice shooting. And that should have been the first thing I said. Which brings us back to the other reason you’re trying to get rid of me.”
He didn’t pretend not to understand.
“This may be as good as it ever gets. Physically,“ he said, employing her euphemism with a bitterness he didn’t hide.
“Well, I never had any complaints. Certainly not physically,” she said softly.
The memories rushed between them. All the touches in the dark.
“I haven’t asked you for any commitment,
Rafe. I just want to be with you. And I can’t think of a single reason why we can’t be together.”
He shook his head.
“At least here. At least today,” she whispered.
“Rae,” he said, a denial.
“I could build a fire,” she suggested. “I’ve always wanted to make love on a rug in front of a fire. Doesn’t that sound romantic as hell?”
He waited a moment, still watching her eyes, before he gave in, remembering, she hoped, all they had shared and could share again.
“And about as comfortable,” he said. “Especially on this rug.”
“You’re not supposed to consider comfort. You’re supposed to be swept away by the passion of the moment.”
“I must be old-fashioned. I’ve always preferred beds with soft, useful pillows, clean sheets—”
“So much easier to fall asleep afterward,” she mocked.
“I thought you didn’t have any complaints,” he reminded. His fingers touched a tendril that had escaped the ponytail’s confinement and tucked it behind her ear. His hand moved slowly to the back of her head to urge her upward to meet his descending mouth.
All the feelings he had created in the long-ago darkness came back to her. Nothing here had changed. Or ever would. You will always be my heart.
When the kiss finally ended, Rae found herself kneeling between his thighs, her hands on his shoulders.
“Come upstairs with me,” he said. “I don’t want to make love to you in this room.”
She had forgotten the violence, forgotten everything but the promise of his body holding hers.
“No fire?” she whispered.
“I don’t think you’ll notice,” he promised.
SHE TOOK A shower in his bathroom. He had suggested she use one of the guest suites, but she’d refused, not wanting to be that far away from him. When she noticed the accommodations that had been added to the room, she realized they were probably why he’d not wanted her here.
He had hidden everything from her before, and now all the tricks he had played in the darkness were exposed, and there was no way to lessen the reality. She had recognized his discomfort with the continued revelation of that reality on their way upstairs.