Determined to Protect, Forbidden to Love

by Beverly Barton

  “We need to talk,” Dom said in English.

  “Can it wait until morning?” J.J. asked. “Miguel is exhausted. We have just come from Carlos’s parents’ home.”

  “Señor Ramirez, our poor Carlos,” Ramona said in Spanish.

  Miguel opened his arms and hugged Ramona as she wept on his shoulder.

  Dom pulled J.J. aside. “I met up with Vic and Will Pierce tonight over in Colima. Vic has unearthed some pretty nasty info and the sooner Miguel knows, the better.”

  “Unless there is something he can do about it right now, I don’t want you burdening him with anything else. He’s fast reaching the breaking point. You know he blames himself for Carlos’s murder.”

  “I feel for the guy.” When J.J. gave him a cynical look, he said, “I mean it. He’s being put in a challenging situation to which there are no easy solutions. And what I have to tell him will only complicate matters more.”

  “What is it? Tell me and if I think he needs to know, I’ll tell him.”

  Dom shook his head. “Sorry, but I’m telling Ramirez tonight.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, J.J., I am. He needs to know.”

  “What do I need to know?” Miguel asked.

  J.J. jerked around at the sound of his voice and glanced behind him, searching for the housekeeper. “Where is Ramona?”

  “I sent her to bed.” He grabbed J.J.’s arm. “Why are you two arguing?” Keeping a tight hold on her arm, Miguel glared at Dom. “Tell me now what it is that you think I need to know.”

  “It can wait until later,” J.J. said. “After you’ve had some rest.”

  “We have another Dundee agent here in Mocorito,” Dom said and even though J.J. shot him with a condemning glare, he continued. “He’s a former CIA operative, with connections here in your country. He has found out something you need to know before you make any future decisions about whether or not to withdraw from the current presidential race.”

  “After what happened to Carlos tonight, I have no choice but to reconsider my candidacy,” Miguel said.

  “The decisions you make in the next few days will also decide the future of Mocorito.” Dom huffed loudly. “I hate to lay this on you after what just happened to Carlos, but I don’t want you making any decisions without having all the facts.”

  “Just say whatever it is you have to say.” Miguel kept his gaze focused on Dom as he eased his hand down J.J.’s arm and clasped her hand in his.

  She knew as surely as she knew her own name that Miguel was holding on to her not only for her support, but to draw strength from her. Helpmates. Soul mates.

  “Upon his reelection, Hector Padilla and his goon squad plan to take over the military and every law-enforcement agency in Mocorito,” Dom said. “The Federalists plan to turn your country back into a dictatorship, even if it means civil war.”

  J.J. caught her shocked gasp seconds before it escaped her mouth. Please, dear God, no! First she sensed Miguel’s horror and then she saw it on his face.

  “And your half-brother, Diego Fernandez, is helping Padilla,” Dom added. “But he has no idea what they are planning. They’re using his hatred for you to gain his support, especially his financial support.”

  “You were right,” Miguel said. “I needed to know this and I needed to know it now. Padilla has declared war on me and is willing to kill those who are close to me.

  “And now I learn that if I withdraw from the presidential race in order to ensure that others won’t die because of me, the Federalists will try to return Mocorito to a dictatorship and possibly throw the country into civil war, where thousands may die.”

  “You’re in what we Americans call a no-win situation.” Dom bit down on his bottom lip as he hazarded a glance at J.J.

  “Later today, I will have a meeting with Emilio and Roberto and the leaders of the Nationalist Party.” Miguel closed his eyes and groaned. “This is not a decision I can make alone.”

  “I realize I can’t tell you what to do, but I’m going to give you some advice,” Dom said. When Miguel simply stared at him, he continued. “It’s almost a certainty that you have a traitor in your camp, someone who knows every move you make and is in on every decision. I don’t think you can afford to trust anyone. Not Dr. Esteban. Not Roberto Aznar.” Dom hesitated. “Not even Emilio Lopez.”

  Miguel glowered at Dom, his golden-brown eyes filled with anger. “You are telling me that I should not trust my closest friends, men who are like brothers to me? You want me to make a life-and-death decision for my country…for my people, without the advice and input of the three men I trust most in this world?”

  “One of those men does not deserve your trust,” Dom told him.

  J.J. tugged on Miguel’s arm. “You need rest. We can discuss this more later, after you’ve had a few hours of sleep.”

  Miguel nodded. And without saying a word he allowed her to lead him up the stairs and straight to his bedroom suite. After kicking off her heels and tossing her shawl into the nearest chair, she helped him out of his tuxedo jacket and then loosened and removed his tie. When she started to unbutton his shirt, he grabbed her hands and brought them to his lips. After kissing her knuckles, he whispered against her folded hands. “What am I going to do?”

  “You are going to rest,” she told him as she pulled her hands free and undid the top three buttons on his pleated-front shirt, then she removed his gold cuff links and laid them on the coffee table.

  “How can I rest, knowing what I know?”

  She turned him around as easily as if he’d been a child and herded him into his bedroom, not bothering to turn out the lights in the sitting room or turn them on in the bedroom. She led him over to his bed, shoved him down on the edge, then knelt at his feet and removed his shoes and socks. Reaching behind him, she yanked the coverlet, blanket and sheet down enough to reveal the big feather pillows.

  “Lie down. Right now.”

  When she walked away, he called after her, “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll be right back. I just want to get out of this dress.”

  He scooted up in the bed and laid his head on one of the pillows, then closed his eyes. “After you do that, would you…would you lie down with me?”

  “Yes.” She had given the answer no thought. There was no need. Miguel was not asking her for sex, not propositioning her. She understood what he wanted, what he needed.

  Once in the bathroom, she undressed hurriedly, removing everything, down to her silk panties, then she grabbed her robe from the wall hook where she’d left it, put it on and rushed back into the bedroom. Miguel lay there in the dark, not even a glimmer of moonlight to illuminate his face, only the faint glow from the lights still burning in the sitting room. At first she thought—hoped—he had fallen asleep. But when she neared the bed, he opened his eyes. Eyes like those of a jungle cat.

  “I usually sleep well on nights when it rains,” he said. “I enjoy the sound of raindrops hitting the roof, pouring down onto the earth.”

  J.J. went around to the other side of the bed and lay down alongside Miguel, a good three feet separating their bodies.

  He turned and held out his hand across the smooth cotton sheet. Without a moment’s hesitation, she closed the space between them and when she did, he pulled her into his arms and held her as if she was his lifeline, as if without her, he would perish.

  His lips pressed against her forehead. Tender, sweet kisses. She wrapped one arm around him and cuddled as close as humanly possible.

  “I have been placed in an unbearable position.” His warm breathed fanned the curls she had pushed behind her ear. “No matter what I do, my decision will cost the lives of innocent people.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Hush, querido, hush. This problem cannot be solved right now.”

  “I fear it cannot be solved at all.”

  She lay there in his arms for quite some time, neither of them speaking, only listening to the rain and to each other’s slow, steady br
eathing.

  Suddenly Miguel sat straight up in bed, his body taut, his hands balled into fists. She sat up beside him.

  “Miguel?”

  “I am such a fool. I truly believed that I could offer Mocorito a future of prosperity, with equal rights for all citizens. I have been so full of myself, so certain that I and I alone was destined to lead my people into the twenty-first century.”

  His body trembled. Just a slight tremor, but visible even in the semidark. Oh, God, the pain inside him is ripping him apart.

  J.J. wrapped her arms around him. “Don’t do this to yourself. Please. Miguel. Querido.”

  He fell into her arms and rested his head against her breasts. It was then that she felt the dampness of his tears as they moistened her chest where her robe had fallen open.

  As she held him, she caressed his head and rubbed his back. Stroking him. Comforting him.

  Loving him.

  Seina was awakened by the ringing telephone. When she flipped on her bedside lamp and glanced at the clock, she saw that it was nearly five-thirty. Who would be calling this early in the morning? She rose from her bed and put on her robe, then slipped out of her room and down the hall. When she neared Diego’s bedroom, she heard him talking. Without knocking, she opened the door and walked in on him.

  He sat on the edge of his bed, his hair mussed, his eyes bleary.

  “Why was I not notified before now? What? I don’t care what she told you, she is like a member of my family, my sister’s best friend.”

  “What is it?” Seina rushed to Diego. “Has something happened to Gala?”

  He held up a his hand, issuing a halt gesture. Seina stopped cold.

  “Señorita Hernandez’s mother is dead and her father is remarried and lives in Buenaventura. I will notify him that she has been in an accident. And my sister and I will be at the hospital this morning.”

  “What happened?” Seina pleaded for more information.

  “Spare no expense on her behalf,” Diego said. “Our family will, naturally, pay for everything.” He replaced the receiver and turned to Seina, holding his hand out to her.

  She grabbed his hand and sat down on the bed beside him. “Tell me.”

  “Seina was in an automobile accident the night before last and was taken to St.Augustine’s. She had no identification on her, no driver’s license, no car registration. That foolish, foolish woman. When she recovered consciousness, she refused to talk to anyone, but one of the nurses managed to pry your name from her.”

  “I’m going to dress now and go straight to the hospital.” Seina jumped up.

  “Wait and I will go with you.”

  She glared at her brother. “Why? You do not care for Gala. If you did, you would not treat her as you do.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course I care for Gala.”

  “Liar.”

  Diego stared at her, a look of utter shock on his face.

  “I know,” Seina said.

  “You know what?”

  “I know that you forced her to take poison to Anton Casimiro’s party so that someone could use it to make Miguel Ramirez’s friends and political supporters sick. I know that you are helping President Padilla to undermine Miguel’s bid for the presidency by using whatever unscrupulous means you believe necessary.”

  “How do you know—”

  “I overheard you talking to Gala. I know she left our home drunk and frightened. Because of you.”

  Diego grabbed Seina by the shoulders. “You have to believe me when I say that I did not wish any harm to come to her.”

  “That is the problem—I do not believe you.” She jerked loose from his tenacious hold. “Who are you? I do not know you. You are not the brother I have known and loved all my life. You have allowed your hatred for our brother—yes, our brother, our father’s other son—to turn you into a monster. The old Diego helped Gala when she was in trouble. He kept her out of prison and paid for her stay in a rehabilitation center. He might have been a bit cocky and self-absorbed, but he had a good heart.”

  “Seina, I…I…”

  She glared at him.

  “I do not know what to say.”

  “Tell me it is not too late to save your soul.”

  He hung his head. In shame? She prayed with all her heart that her brother was still capable of feeling shame.

  “I am going to take a shower, then dress and drive to St. Augustine’s,” she told him. “And I am quite certain that Seina will not want to see you. I am not even sure she will want to see me.”

  J.J. awoke slowly, languidly, her body warm, her limbs relaxed. She felt something touch her neck. Gentle strokes of a fingertip. Her eyelids fluttered.

  “Mmm…mmm…” she opened her eyes and looked at Miguel who lay beside her, staring at her as he ran his index finger down her throat, stopping just short of delving between her breasts.

  She smiled at him. “What time is it?”

  “Almost six.”

  She nodded. “How long have you been awake?”

  “About fifteen minutes. I have been lying here looking at you.”

  Her smiled widened. “Have you?”

  “I went to sleep in your arms, didn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  He knew that she knew he had cried in her arms before he had fallen asleep. There was no need to mention it, to discuss it. It was a fact only the two of them shared. Now and forever.

  “Thank you, Jennifer.”

  She reached out and cradled his cheek with the palm of her hand. “I want to do everything that I can to help you. These next few days will not be easy for you. You can depend on me to—”

  He pulled away from her, sat up and then turned his back on her as he settled on the edge of the bed and slumped his shoulders.

  “Miguel?”

  “I want you to go back to America.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to take the first flight out of Nava today.”

  She tossed back the covers and crawled over behind him, then wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his back. “Don’t talk foolishness,” she said in English. “I won’t leave you. Not now when you need me more than ever. I thought…I mean…after last night.”

  He shot up off the bed. She caught herself before falling flat on her face.

  With his back to her, he said, “Instead of sleeping, I should have made love to you. You were so willing to do anything to make me feel better. Poor Miguel. He is falling apart. Let me comfort him. Let me show him how strong I am.”

  She got out of bed, but didn’t go to him, just stared at his back. “I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work.”

  “I am trying to tell you that I don’t want you here, that I don’t need you, that I want you to go away. You are only a woman and women have no purpose except—”

  “Nice try, but it didn’t work.” She walked across the room and paused behind him. “There’s no point in your trying to think of more ways to insult me or hurt my feelings. I’m not buying your mean macho act. You’re afraid that if I stay here, I’ll be in more danger than you are. You’re concerned that the people who killed Carlos might come after me.”

  She placed her hand in the center of his back. His muscles tensed.

  “Miguel, I’m not leaving you.”

  He turned and looked deeply into her eyes. “If only you were carrying my child as Dolores is carrying Emilio’s child, you would go away, as she did, to protect the baby.”

  Tears sprang into J.J.’s eyes. “Dammit, you’ve made me cry.”

  He grabbed her and held her so tightly she could barely breathe and when she lifted her face to him, he lowered his head and kissed her. After he had thoroughly ravaged her mouth and they were both breathless, he ended the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers.

  “What am I going to do with you?”

  “You’re going to let me stay here in Nava with you and help you through the days and nights ahead.”
/>   “Yes, querida, God forgive me, but that is exactly what I am going to do.”

  Chapter 12

  J.J. clung to Miguel, knowing there was nowhere else on earth she would rather be than right here, with him, in his arms. But the logical part of her brain kept trying to get through to her, warning her that she was setting herself up for a fall. She and Miguel were caught up in a fantasy. A dangerous fantasy that could cost them dearly on a personal level when reality finally slapped them in the face with the hard, cold facts. No matter how sexually attracted they were to each other, no matter how strongly they felt the soul-deep connection that made no sense to either of them, the truth of the matter was that they had known each other for less than seventy-two hours. A bodyguard assignment that should have remained impersonal had altered drastically, metamorphosing into a grand passion.

  But this isn’t real, that nagging inner voice told her. You are not Miguel Ramirez’s fiancée. You two are not in love with each other. And you have no future together.

  As if he felt her uncertainty, Miguel eased his tenacious hold on her and lifted his head from where his cheek had been pressed against hers. For a split second she thought about holding on to him, clinging to him with every ounce of her strength, but instead she met his questioning gaze head-on.

  “I very much want to make love to you,” he said, his voice husky with emotion.

  “I know. It’s what I want, too…”

  “But?”

  “But if we make love, I’m very much afraid that I’ll fall madly in love with you. And I cannot allow that to happen.”

  “Jennifer…” He closed his eyes for a moment.

  “Please, help me to be strong. I cannot fight you and myself at the same time.”

  He ran his hands down her arms, then released her. She shivered uncontrollably for half a second, then took a deep breath and stepped backward, putting a couple of inches between their heated bodies.

  He studied her intently, silently, as if he were trying to read her mind. Or look into her heart. “At another time, in another place…”