He glanced at the bed. “Any chance we can just stay here and think about it tomorrow?”
“Mike isn’t strong enough to break the door down, but he could get a key with no problem at all. And I think climbing down the fire escape would probably make him wonder a little about me.”
“But even if I can get out without being seen … what do we do about Mike?”
She sighed. “I think I have to go next door and distract him. You leave.”
“And you?”
She shrugged, this time hitching at the flimsy robe to keep from losing it altogether. She met his gaze unflinchingly. “Forget me, Chance. Just get out while you can. I’ll take care of myself … if I can.”
“And if you can’t?”
Her lips trembled slightly but her chin came up. “Goodnight, Chance,” she said quietly, and walked to the door, pulling it open and peering out cautiously.
After a minute she turned and whispered, “Go! Now.”
He saw no choice. Blood pounding in his head, he made his own quick survey and slipped out in the hall.
With Chance out of her room, AJ locked the door and searched hastily through her clothes, finding jeans and a loose sweatshirt and throwing them on. She drew in another deep breath to brace herself, but the remnants of smoke in the room made her cough.
She glanced around the room, spotted the singed fabric, and quickly took it and stuffed it in the wastebasket in the bathroom. Nothing else seemed out of place, although she hoped Mike wouldn’t be in this room at all. Still, there was no point in being careless. Satisfied that the room wouldn’t give her away, she went next door and rapped quietly.
Mike opened the door almost immediately, a grin splitting his face. “Well, well,” he greeted her. “Come on in. Keep an old man company.”
She managed a slight smile. “It’s awfully late,” she hedged. “I was just afraid you’d looked for me and didn’t find me.”
“Where were you?” He pulled the door open, and for a moment, AJ braced herself to be jerked into the room.
A couple came down the hall, talking about the false alarm with agitation. Tourists, apparently, as they spoke in English.
AJ nodded at them as they drew near, and Towers glowered but didn’t reach for her wrist as she’d feared.
“So? Where did you disappear to?” he repeated as the couple nodded and passed. “Didn’t find you downstairs. Damn idiots wouldn’t let me come back for the longest time—”
“I’m sure they just wanted to be sure everyone was safe,” AJ soothed. “I couldn’t quit coughing. They had me see a doctor.”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Doctor? What doctor? The hotel doctor?”
She shrugged. “I couldn’t say. There were a lot of people. Someone said to get in line and see the doctor, so I did.”
“Hmm. Better now?”
“A little nauseous.” Thinking about you. “Still coughing a little now and then. But okay.”
“Well, good.” He looked her over from head to foot. “Sure don’t look as good now as you did earlier,” he said disapprovingly, and she realized he’d never seen her in the kind of clothes she usually wore.
She faked a frown, glancing down at the soft cotton shirt and worn denim. “My fiancé always liked me like this,” she murmured. “Said I looked like a real homebody in my jeans and tees.”
“Homebodies don’t much interest me, to be honest. I like women who look like women.” Towers took a step back, holding the door open wider. “Comin’ in or not?”
She plucked at her jeans with nervous fingers, breathing a silent prayer that he wouldn’t get ugly. Unmanageable. “Not, I think,” she answered, after a moment. “You don’t need me throwing up all over your bed.” She managed a small chuckle. “I bet it’d take forever to get someone to clean up, after the night everyone’s had.”
Towers made a snort of assessment, but his eyes were ice cold. “Well, we did say separate rooms.” His tone, like his eyes, sounded hard. Dangerous.
“Good night, Mike,” she said, and he watched until she reached her own door and opened it.
“Be ready to leave at nine,” he told her. “And don’t forget our little deal.”
“Deal?” she echoed, although she knew exactly what he meant.
“Yeah. The one where you decide whether or not your lover boy’s worth going home to.”
She couldn’t think of anything to say, so she just nodded at Mike and went in to her own room, locking the door and fastening the security chain. Then she leaned against the door, trembling with relief. And revulsion.
• • •
Nuevo Laredo, Mexico
The trip back to Nuevo Laredo passed in a blur. As before, Jaime sat silently in the seat behind them, never speaking. She couldn’t forget his presence, though, and again, considered it a mixed blessing. On the one hand, he smelled of beer and smoke, but on the other, he might make Mike more mindful of what he said. Mostly, Mike talked about the men he’d met with in Monterrey. She said little in return.
“You got a headache or something?” he demanded at one point, and she nodded and said that she did. Headache was hardly the word. Her head did hurt—but the threats closing in around her were the real problem. He’d start pushing her to sleep with him the minute they got back, probably. He’d been obvious enough about it last night.
For a moment she closed her eyes and thought about leaving Mike as soon as they reached the ranch. She’d brought Goof to Texas out of insanity, really—thinking somehow to smuggle him onto Towers’s ranch to fool passersby until she could escape with Rebel.
She knew now that would never work. Even if she could get Goof himself across the river and on to Towers’s ranch, Chance knew about him. Had enough of an eye to spot the differences between the two horses. And of course, one was a gelding, one a stallion. Anyone who worked with Rebel would notice the switch. Naively, she’d hoped just seeing the head over the stall door might be distraction enough.
She could leave Rebel and file legal papers. Fight for him. She doubted that would work. Towers had so much more money than she and her mother, and Texas was a community-property state. Towers could claim that Gina had left him the stallion. Rebel’s papers were in her mother’s name, but Gina and Towers had him at the time of her death. Apparently Chance thought the horse had belonged to Gina; others might have been led to believe so, too. There would be no end of witnesses claiming the horse belonged to Towers. And even if she and her mother could win in court, Towers could simply keep the stallion in Mexico. The legal system was different, and Towers had money and influence on his side.
She sighed and Towers turned toward her.
“Am I borin’ you with my little stories, AJ?”
“No.” She smiled faintly, the throbbing in her temples increasing. “No, I just can’t get the damned pain in my head to go away.”
“I got a remedy for that, darlin,” he offered, reaching over to pat her thigh. She frowned and turned back to the window without answering.
“Well, now, where were we?” he said after a minute. “Oh, that man you were dancin’ with last night—Armando Robles Castillo. He might be the next governor of Nuevo Leon.”
Towers went on explaining how he, Castillo, and some others wanted to encourage trade from Monterrey and the rest of Mexico to use the one international bridge that bypassed Laredo, crossing from Nuevo Leon state rather than Tamaulipas state into Texas.
Although she really didn’t care, AJ sat up straighter and asked occasional questions. Anything to keep him from the crude suggestions and leering, sideway glances. When they finally turned into the now familiar drive of Mike’s property, relief washed over her.
Safe, she thought, though she knew that wasn’t really true. Towers still wanted her. Rebel was no closer to home. But somehow none of that mattered. Chance would be back, too. And although he didn’t trust her and might not be able to protect her from Towers, somehow she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.
•
• •
Chance let the nursery curtain fall as he saw the Escalade pull up in front of the house. Gordito gurgled a protest, reaching for the fabric and trying to pull himself free.
“Easy there, guy,” Chance warned. “You’re not Tarzan quite yet, and Rosa will have my hide if you hurt yourself!”
Behind him, the door closed softly, and he turned to find Rosa watching them with a slight smile that didn’t touch her eyes.
“He’s back,” she announced. “With AJ.”
Chance nodded. “I saw them.” He set the baby down, and watched as the child scooted across the carpet towards Rosa, who scooped him up and hugged him.
“So. You have decided?”
He shook his head and scuffed his boot into the floor. “No. I haven’t.”
“But you know what you should do.” She didn’t ask, just stated it calmly, then walked over to him, laying a hand on his arm. “You know,” she said again. “You knew the moment you realized that they were sisters.”
Slowly, he nodded. “But it’s not as easy as knowing. People will be hurt.” He reached out to stroke a finger across Gordito’s cheek. “You will be hurt.”
“No importa. Some things cannot be helped. This cannot be helped.” She blinked back tears and kissed the baby again.
“What if we’re wrong, Rosa? We could be.”
She shook her head, and Gordito clutched at the dark curls with a yelp of delight. “Ayyy! Sueltame—turn my hair loose, you silly boy!” She untangled the chubby hands from her hair and set the child down on the floor carefully.
“Mike hates Gordito. That is no way for a child to live, Chance. We both know that hate has no place in this baby’s life.”
He reached out a hand to brush one of her mussed locks back into place. “He has only known love so far though, Rosa. We don’t know that Towers would do anything—why would he?”
She shrugged. “¡Bastardo!,” she said bitterly, and Chance would have understood the word in any language. “He would do anything.”
Her words cut him to the quick. A man who would do anything—and AJ had been alone last night. At his mercy, perhaps. He frowned. He couldn’t dwell on what might have happened or not. AJ had known the danger and chosen to stay. Damn her! He tried to refocus on the woman standing there before him, her face full of fear for a child. For someone else’s child.
“You’ll lose him,” he reminded her gently.
“And it will kill me,” she whispered. “But I could not love Gordito more if he were truly mine. And no mother places her child in harm’s way.”
“Ah, but that’s not true,” he countered darkly. “Read the newspapers, niña. Remember the fables.” He looked down as Gordito clutched his pant leg and hauled himself up, turning his face up to smile at them.
Rosa shrugged again, dismissively. “You would have me believe stories of La Llorona? No, I am no niña, no scared little girl who believes in legends. Women may give birth and not be mothers, just as not all fathers are truly fathers.”
Chance smiled down at Gordito, then bent to pick him up. “True. But I wouldn’t dismiss all legends so easily, linda. Because in my world, we have the boogeyman!” He growled the last words against the baby’s cheek, and both Rosa and Gordito hooted with laughter.
“Señor Chance,” a woman’s voice called through the door, and he wrinkled his nose at Rosa and Gordito, recognizing the head housekeeper, María.
“The door’s not locked,” he called, and handed the child back to Rosa, stepping away from her. María gossiped and complained most of the day. He knew that few members of the household had any use for the middle-aged woman, but he had known her as long as he had known Towers. According to his uncle, María had kept the house in Arizona, too.
The door opened, and she came in, her thick face twisted in a suspiciously sweet smile.
“Mr. Mike would like to see you immediately,” she announced, in a way that made Chance suspect Towers wanted to see him about some invention of hers. “He’s very angry. I wouldn’t make him wait.”
“Thank you, María,” he said, curtly and dismissively, not caring that her fake smile slid back into her usual venomous frown. “I’ll go right away.” He turned to Rosa and gave her a grin and a wink.
“No, no problem at all. The new maid must be doing her job well.” He turned and headed towards the door, giving the scowling housekeeper a brief nod.
“Snake in the grass,” he muttered under his breath as soon as he was out of earshot.
He found Towers in the study, turning the leather chair back and forth and staring absently at the far wall while he flipped a pen around in his hand.
“Close the door and sit down, Landin,” he ordered when he spotted Chance.
So they weren’t buddies any more. Okay. Probably someone—María—mentioned that he’d left right after Towers did. That was just a hunch, though, and so he sat down in the chair near the desk. “What’s up?” he asked casually.
“Well, now, maybe you should tell me that,” Towers suggested, stabbing at a notepad with his pen. “Funny how you don’t follow orders too good. Makes a man wonder why.”
“Seems to me my only orders when I signed on were to protect you and your interests, Mike.” He shrugged slightly. “And that’s exactly what I do.”
“I told you to stay here,” his boss muttered, and Chance nodded.
So someone did tell him. Fear tightened in his gut as he wondered if someone just mentioned he’d left, or if he’d been seen in Monterrey. God forbid he’d been seen with AJ. “You did tell me,” he agreed, striving for patience. “But I can’t protect you from 150 miles away. And I doubled the dog patrols and had someone checking the cameras for me. I called several times to touch base.”
“And you can prove that, can’t you, boy?” Towers made no attempt to mask his suspicion. “’Cause it’s really easy to check on stuff like that. I’m not much with this modern stuff, but a moron can talk to the right people and look at logs.”
“Hell, Mike, pick up the phone,” Chance challenged, breathing a small prayer of thanksgiving that he’d actually taken steps to cover his tracks—thinking he was being needlessly cautious. Towers had never doubted him before, as far as he knew, at least not to the point of having him watched. Maria had certainly tried to cause problems for him before, but with little success. Still… He hesitated, gauging the man’s reaction. Couldn’t afford to blow his cover. Couldn’t get himself fired—not with his uncle still rotting in a prison cell. Not with AJ still on the ranch.
“Why’d you tail me to Monterrey?” Towers demanded brusquely, not reaching for the phone.
“To make sure you were safe. I do not trust Jaime. Couldn’t quit thinking that you only had his word for where that letter came from”
The dart hit the bulls-eye; he saw Towers’s eyes widen slightly in surprise and then narrow. “Well, now, that’s true enough,” he conceded after a minute. But then he shook his head. “Not that I’m buyin’ that, but it’s a thought.”
“Your choice to buy it or not, but Jaime’s the only one who saw the kid—if there was a kid. And have there been any other threats since that one?”
Chance pushed himself out of his chair, and walked over to the door, then back, standing by the desk instead of sitting again. “Your trust could get you killed,” he muttered. “I followed you to Monterrey hoping it wouldn’t. I don’t have anything on Jaime. But you know I don’t trust the man. He gives me a bad feeling.”
“Humph.” Towers tossed the pen to the desk. “Seems like you’d need more than a bad feeling, being in charge of security.”
“Sometimes gut instinct comes first,” Chance retorted. “Sometimes there’s nothing else to go on—and if you wait for hard facts, there’s a drawn gun and a body lying in a pool of blood.”
Towers blanched and rocked back in his chair. “Well, you’d need to prove it to me before I’d believe it about Jaime,” he said finally. “But I’ll keep my eyes open anyway.”
Towers scooted his chair closer to the desk again. “Got to tell you, though—Jaime doesn’t trust you. Had him watching the woman when I couldn’t.”
Chance’s heart jolted, pounded. He tried to freeze his facial muscles into place so that he’d show no outrage. No fear. “The woman?” he asked carefully. “AJ?”
“Hell, yeah, AJ,” Towers sputtered. “Know any other damn woman jerking me around by the dick? But I’ve just about had enough of that.”
He kept the mask on, carefully kept his tone neutral. “Seems strange you’d need her watched in Monterrey. Who would she know there?”
Towers turned an icy stare his way. “I thought maybe you.” He shrugged. “Lucky I was wrong. Just wanted to hit the stores, same as any damn woman. Wore her shoes out visiting shops. But something about that woman just don’t sit right.”
Relief flooded through him as he realized that Towers probably didn’t know about his visit to her room. Still, he probed, trying to be sure. “Heard guests saying there was a fire upstairs,” he said. “I saw you come out, but I didn’t see Jaime.”
“Nah.” Mike shook his head and grinned. “Man after my own heart, Jaime is. Knew I’d be safe at the dinner and hotel—lots of big guns there, and they had their men with ’em. And since I had AJ where I could watch her myself—I told him to go get some ass.” He winked. “Don’t have to tell a real man that twice,” he added.
Chance frowned. “Stupid, sending your only protection off like that,” he muttered.
“Don’t be callin’ me stupid, Chance,” Towers warned, the use of the first name tinged with sarcasm. “’Cause I ain’t. For example—I think there’s a little bit of a problem with you and my girl. And that don’t sit too well with me.”
The mask slipped and he just gaped. “Excuse me?”
Towers reached over to pick up his pen again, tossing it up and catching it, watching the pen instead of looking at Chance. “Well, you know, I don’t buy this fiancé thing,” he said eventually.
“There’s a marriage license—” Chance lied, hoping that Mike hadn’t already checked. What or who had made the bastard so suspicious, so close to ruining it all?
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