Determined to Protect, Forbidden to Love

by Beverly Barton

  She offered him a fragile smile. “Yes, I know.”

  “I want you to be safe,” he told her. “You should leave Mocorito as soon as possible. As my fiancée—even my fake fiancée—you could become a target. I could not bear it if anything happened to you.”

  “And if I leave and you are killed because I wasn’t here to protect you, how do you think I will feel? I’m a highly trained professional who was assigned the job of protecting you. I understand your reasons for wanting me to leave, but—”

  “No arguments.” Shaking his head, he groaned. “Domingo Shea can take over as my personal bodyguard. I believe the time for pretense is over. I can no longer allow my ego to dictate my actions.”

  “I agree that you shouldn’t hide the fact that you have skilled professionals protecting you. If you announce that I am not your fiancée, but your bodyguard—”

  “I don’t think that it would matter, not at this point,” he told her. “It is obvious to everyone that we have feelings for each other. You will not be safe here in Mocorito. There is every chance that they will target you, just as they might target Emilio or Juan or the others closest to me.

  “I will make no announcements about you or Dom. You will leave Mocorito for your own safety and for my peace of mind. And when Dom takes over and it becomes apparent that he is guarding me, I will say that yes, my cousin is now my personal bodyguard, that it is what he does for a living back home in Miami.”

  “You’re going to downplay the fact. And you’re going to keep up the pretense, at least in part.”

  “Yes. There will be time enough to admit the entire truth, later, after…After you are safely back in the United States and after the election is over.”

  “I don’t want to leave you.” She gazed at him pleadingly. “But you are the boss. If you choose to send me away…”

  He caressed her cheek tenderly. “If circumstances were different…”

  She sighed heavily. “I won’t leave today, but I will go, if that’s what you want. We can discuss the details later. Your first concern today is to make a decision about your candidacy. And you must make that decision without sharing the damning information about Hector Padilla with your closest advisors.”

  “Do you believe, as Dom does, that one of them is a traitor?”

  “Yes, I do. We know you have a traitor among your closest friends, someone who is privy to all your secrets, all your decisions. Who else could it be if it is not Roberto or Emilio or perhaps Juan?”

  “You spent the evening with Juan and Aunt Josephina. Do you honestly think Juan is capable of betrayal? He is a kind, gentle man who has dedicated his life to helping others.”

  “I know. I like Juan very much. And I adore his aunt. My gut instincts tell me that Juan is just what he appears to be and he would die before he would betray you.”

  “And yet you still think I should not share the information about Padilla’s diabolical plot with Juan?”

  “Oh, Miguel…I think the wisest course of action is to tell no one.”

  Seina Fernandez had packed a suitcase and taken it with her when she left home. Her plan was first to visit Gala in the hospital and promise her that Diego would never threaten her again; then she would go to Juan and tell him that she was cutting all ties to her family, that she wanted to be with him, to marry him and spend the rest of her life as his wife. In all honesty, she was scared to death and uncertain. When Diego and their mother discovered what she had done, they would be furious. And they would do all within their power to bring her back into the family fold. But she could not return to that house. Not ever again. Her mother would force her to marry a man she did not love, caring nothing for her happiness. And Diego had become a criminal, a man so filled with hatred that he could not see that the vile emotion was destroying him.

  Seina hesitated before knocking on Gala’s hospital-room door. She would not blame her friend if she did not want to see her. After all, she had overheard Gala’s conversation with Diego two nights ago and she had done nothing to intervene at the time. In a way, she was as much to blame for Gala’s automobile accident as Diego was. If only she had not cowered in the dark, afraid to make her presence known.

  “Yes?” Gala said.

  Seina opened the door and peeked in, gasping when she saw Gala’s badly bruised face and her arm, apparently broken, in a sling. “May I come in?”

  “Seina? Oh, God, Seina, I could have killed myself and the driver of the other car. I am such a worthless piece of trash. How can you want to be my friend?”

  Seina walked into the room, closed the door behind her and marched straight to Gala’s side. Seeing the tears streaming down Gala’s cheeks, Seina retrieved a tissue from the box on the bedside table, then reached down and wiped away her friend’s tears.

  “Everything will be all right.” Seina grasped Gala’s hand. “I know what has been going on with you and Diego. I overheard the two of you talking the other night. I—I confronted him this morning and I warned him that I will not tolerate him using you in such a shameful fashion.”

  Gala’s eyes widened in shock. “You know? You heard? Oh, God! Oh, God…I am so sorry…”

  Seina wrapped her arms carefully around her friend and stroked her head gently. “I am the one who is sorry. I am sorry that I have been so weak and foolishly naive. If I had acted sooner, I could have spared you this pain.”

  With her good arm clinging to Seina, Gala asked, “What has given you the courage to defy Diego? I have never seen you like this—so determined, so independent.”

  “It is time I grew up, is it not? I can no longer blame my mother and my brother for not allowing me to be the person I want to be or to live the life I want. From now on, no one makes my decisions for me.”

  “Diego will never allow you—”

  “Diego cannot hurt you again. Nor will he interfere in my plans.”

  “You—you’re going to blackmail him with what you heard us talking about the other night, aren’t you?”

  “I hope that will not be necessary,” Seina said. “I pray that my brother will see the error of his ways before it is too late for him.”

  When J.J. and Miguel went downstairs, Roberto and Emilio were waiting for them in Miguel’s study. The moment they saw J.J., they asked to speak to him privately.

  “I have no secrets from Jennifer,” Miguel said.

  Roberto and Emilio exchanged anxious looks.

  “Have you forgotten that she is an employee, an American bodyguard forced on you by her government?” Emilio asked, his gaze raking contemptuously over J.J.

  “Never speak about Jennifer in such a way ever again,” Miguel warned his friend.

  “See, I told you that he had become besotted with her!” Roberto spat out the sentence, then threw his arms up in disgust.

  “Carlos was murdered. Everyone in my employ, every friend, every supporter could well be in mortal danger.” Miguel glared back and forth from one man to the other. “And your greatest concern this morning is my personal relationship with Jennifer?”

  “I beg your forgiveness,” Roberto said. “But Emilio and I…we believe that this woman has too much influence over you, that you are listening to her instead of to us. We are your closest friends, your staunchest supporters, but it seems that you trust a woman you barely know more than you do us.”

  “Has she bewitched you with her talented lovemaking?” Emilio asked. “Has she castrated the great Miguel Cesar Ramirez?”

  Miguel’s face flushed and his eyes glistened with barely suppressed anger as he clenched his jaw and knotted his hands into fists. She could almost hear him mentally counting to ten. Didn’t Emilio realize that he had waved a red flag in front of a raging bull?

  “How dare you!”

  Both Roberto and Emilio took several steps backward, closer to the door.

  J.J. knew that now was not the time for her to say or do anything.

  “Leave me!” Miguel roared in a voice that brooked no opposition.


  Like frightened mice scurrying from a menacing cat, both men practically ran from the room. Miguel clenched and unclenched his fisted hands as he walked to the windows overlooking the front of the house. J.J. remained silent and unmoving. He stood by the windows for several minutes, then turned around and focused on her.

  “If you wish, I will make them apologize to you.”

  “Oh, Miguel, don’t worry about what they said. It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me. You are—” He halted for a moment, as if considering his words carefully. “You are important to me. While you are living in my house, you are under my protection.”

  The corners of her mouth lifted as she shook her head. “Remember I am supposed to be your protector.”

  “You are, querida, you are.”

  Juan had seriously considered having Carmen tell Seina that he could not see her today, that she should leave his office and never return. But he did not have the strength to turn her away. Despite what he kept telling her—that they should stop seeing each other—he lived for the stolen moments they shared. Just a glimpse of her, a word or two spoken between them, would sustain him for days.

  How could he have allowed himself to fall in love with a patient? And not just any patient, but with a woman who was betrothed to another man, a woman who was a member of the wealthy and powerful Fernandez family?

  The moment he opened the door to his private office, Seina jumped up from her chair and rushed into his arms, giving him no time to prepare himself. He wrapped his arms around her and held her trembling body.

  “Juan, my dearest, darling Juan.”

  “What has happened?” he asked. “What is wrong? You are shivering.”

  “I have left home,” she told him. “I packed a bag and left. No matter what you say, I will not go back.”

  “I don’t understand. How could you—”

  She placed her hand over his mouth. “If you do not want me, if you cannot take me in, then I will make other arrangements. If necessary, I will stay with Gala when she gets out of the hospital.”

  Juan grabbed Seina by the shoulders and shook her gently. “Stop jabbering nonsense and tell me what is going on.”

  She jerked away from him, stomped her foot and shook her fists at him. “Humph! Have you not been listening to me? I have left my mother’s house and I have no intention of ever returning.”

  “You are giving up everything to be with me?” He stared at her, an incredulous feeling overwhelming him. “I cannot allow you to do that.”

  “You do not understand, Juan.” She planted her hands on her hips. “It is not your decision to make. It is mine. I refuse to live in the house of a woman who would force me to marry a man I do not love and with a brother who has become a stranger to me.”

  “Seina…querida…what has come over you? You do not sound like yourself.”

  “Good. I do not wish to sound like a frightened little girl any longer. I want to sound like a woman who knows her mind and has come to claim her man.”

  “Claim her…do you mean me?”

  She marched over to him, grabbed his face between her palms and kissed him passionately. When he lost his breath completely, she released him and smiled. “I want you to make love to me, Juan Esteban. And I want you to marry me. I leave it up to you which you want to do first.”

  He stared at her, his eyes bulging, his mouth agape.

  “But while you are thinking it over and deciding, I want you to take me to see Miguel. Right this minute. I have much to tell him. I must warn him about Diego.”

  Emilio approached Miguel while he was alone in the courtyard. Miguel had needed time alone to think, without any distractions. He knew what must be done, the only real choice he had, had ever had. If he could survive the upcoming days and weeks until he was elected president, he would then face his guilt and anguish. Others might die, as Carlos had died, their lives, as his, sacrificed for the greater good. And a part of Miguel would never completely forgive himself, but it was a burden that he must bear to save his country.

  “Miguel, may I speak to you?” Emilio asked.

  Keeping his back turned to his oldest and dearest friend, Miguel replied, “If you have news of Dolores, then I wish to hear it. Otherwise…”

  “I am deeply sorry,” Emilio said. “Forgive me for the things I said to you, the disrespectful way I spoke about SeĊorita Blair. I spoke without thinking.”

  “I accept your apology only if you will go to Jennifer and apologize to her, also.”

  “I have already spoken with her and begged her forgiveness.”

  Miguel turned and faced his friend. “I want no derision in my camp, no squabbles among my people. I need you, Emilio, to support me, to be loyal to me, to—”

  “Miguel, you must know that I would die for you, for the cause we both have fought for all our lives. I want to rid Mocorito of men like Hector Padilla once and for all.”

  There should be no doubts in Miguel’s mind, no uncertainty over the issue of trust. He would stake his life on this man’s loyalty. But could he stake the future of the nation on his belief in Emilio?

  “Has Roberto left?” Miguel asked.

  “Yes, he stormed out of here very angry. But he will be back. You know what a temper he has. Once he has cooled off, he will return and apologize.”

  “Yes, of course he will. We are all hot-headed Latins, are we not?” Miguel reached over and draped his arm around Miguel’s shoulders. “We huff and shout and snort and puff out our manly chests in a show of strength. But Emilio, in the end, there can be only one leader, one man who must make the hard decisions and live with the choices he makes.”

  Emilio nodded. “Yes, you are right. And we all know that you, Miguel, are that man. That leader.”

  Ramona rushed out onto the patio, wiping her hands off on her white apron as she approached. “SeĊor Ramirez, you have guests.”

  “Guests?” Miguel asked.

  “Yes. Dr. Esteban is here and he has brought a lady with him.”

  “What lady?” Emilio questioned.

  “A very pretty young lady. He introduced her to Señorita Blair and they are sitting in the front parlor now, talking and waiting for you.”

  “Damn it, woman, who did Juan bring with him?” Emilio glowered at Ramona.

  “Señorita Seina Fernandez.”

  Diego had two-dozen roses delivered to Gala Hernandez’s hospital room and signed the card simply, Carlotta, Seina and Diego. His sister had been right about him caring little what happened to Gala. In truth, he did not care. But he also did not wish her harm, did not want her to die. Yes, he had seen her as only a tool, to use for whatever purposes that suited him. But it was not as if she was a respectable young lady, as if she was truly worthy of the friendship Seina bestowed upon her.

  As he drove along the boulevard leading to the presidential palace in the heart of Nava, he struggled with his conscience.A conscience that he had conveniently misplaced for quite some time.

  Was Seina right about him? Had he become a monster?

  No! He had not. He was only a man willing to bend the rules, to manipulate others, to use some unscrupulous methods to achieve the results he desired. Was he really so different from most men? His wealth and power gave him the means by which to exert influence over the politics in his country. His backing and the backing of other wealthy men such as he could practically ensure a candidate’s success. But in recent years, since Miguel Ramirez had become the people’s champion, the once weak Nationalist Party had tripled in size and now threatened the Federalist Party in a way his father’s generation could never have imagined.

  What would dear papá think about his bastard son running for president? He would not have been able to back him publicly, but would he, in secret, have cheered Miguel on, even taken pride in his victory, if he won the election?

  But he will not win this election. Surely Ramirez must see that it is in the best interests of his people to withdraw his candidacy. No
w that Ramirez’s chauffeur had been killed.

  Diego shuddered at the thought of how the man had died. The newspaper had reported that he’d been beaten to death.

  Have you sunk so low that you now condone murder? he asked himself.

  Scare tactics were one thing, but murdering people was not something with which he wanted to be involved. When two people had been killed during the assassination attempt on Ramirez—an assassination attempt not designed to kill, only to frighten—Hector Padilla had sworn to Diego that the deaths of the two other men had been accidental. Now he wondered if Hector had lied to him.

  The guards at the palace knew Diego on sight and always opened the gates for him and spoke to him with respect. Today was no different, although Hector was not expecting him. He parked his car in the usual place, reserved for special visitors. As he did on most visits, he entered the palace through a side door to which he’d been given a key by President Padilla himself.

  Once inside the palace, facing the narrow corridor that led, the long way around, to the president’s office, Diego removed his sunglasses and slipped them into the inside pocket of his sports coat. He ran into several lowly staff members, who either spoke or nodded. No one thought there was anything unusual about him being here today since he was a frequent visitor.

  When he neared the rear entrance to Hector’s private office, which was kept locked and to which only Hector had a key, Diego paused as he saw the president open the door, search right and left, and then quickly usher three men into his office. What were General Blanco and Secretary of Defense, Arlo Gonzalez, doing going into Hector’s office, along with the grandson of former dictator, Felipe Menendez?

  Slinking into a corner behind a large pillar, Diego hid from their view. Felipe Menendez’s wife and children had been exiled from Mocorito after the dictator’s execution many years ago. But ten years later, after they swore their allegiance to the new democracy, Menendez’s son and daughter had been allowed to return. Felipe III, the old reprobate’s only grandson, a wealthy playboy with whom Diego had attended private school, was an arrogant hothead, known for his radical political views.