Dangerous Pursuit (The Protectors)

by Margaret Daley

  * * *

  “Nell, can you hear me?” Samantha asked in a loud whisper. She was in the hotel lobby and didn’t want to raise her voice anymore than that, though there was static on the line.

  “Yes. Where have you been? I’ve been frantic. I haven’t heard from you for almost two weeks and you said you would check in every few days.” Nell’s rush of words was anything but soft.

  Samantha smiled, picturing the concerned impatience on her friend’s face and knowing that she would have felt the same way if Nell had gone off on some crazy hunt with no warning. “Hold on and I’ll explain.”

  “Well, it isn’t like you not to check in when you said you would. I was about to check with the authorities in Brazil. I was scared to death that something had happened to you too.”

  Samantha tensed. “Happened to me too? Did you hear something about Mark?” She felt Brock’s hand settle on her shoulder in silent support. As he kneaded her coiled muscles, she leaned back into him, bracing herself for the worse.

  “No, nothing bad. You went to Brazil because he had disappeared and then when you did, too, I naturally became worried.”

  “I’m fine,” Samantha assured her friend, her eyes closing in relief for a few seconds.

  “You did have a long distance call a few days back, but the man didn’t leave his name.” Samantha felt sure it was her brother. “I haven’t found Mark yet. That may have been him. I want to let you know where I’m staying now.”

  “I know you aren’t at the Grand Hotel because I’ve tried several times. That desk clerk is very uncooperative.”

  Samantha laughed, thinking of her dealings with the man. She gave Nell the name of the new hotel. “If Mark calls back, tell him it’s extremely important that he contact me here under the name of Brock Slader, but under no circumstances, Nell, tell anyone else where I’m staying. No one. Not even the police.”

  “Police? Oh, my gosh, what have you gotten yourself into?”

  “I’m not running from the police,” Samantha said in amusement, knowing the shocked expression that must be on Nell’s face at that moment. “But I don’t know who to trust, and you can’t be sure it’s really the police.”

  “How will I know it’s your brother calling?”

  By mentioning the code Samantha knew her brother would realize she had the book and knew what he had discovered. “Ask him about the code he devised as a child. Mark will remember that. It’s based on our names." The static on the long distance connection was growing louder. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes. Will you be calling back?”

  “Tomorrow. That’s a promise.” As her gaze automatically scanned the lobby of the hotel, Samantha hoped she would be able to keep her promise.

  “Are you sure you’re fine? You sound like you’re in trouble. Who’s this Brock Slader?”

  My love, my protector. “Someone helping me to find Mark.” Even if Brock hadn’t been standing behind her, she wasn’t ready to put into words everything that he meant to her. “I’ve got to go, Nell.”

  Samantha’s hand remained on the receiver even after she hung up the phone. Nell reminded her of everything back in New Orleans that she had once taken for granted. Hearing her friend’s voice made Samantha long for this to be over and everyone to be safe.

  But at the same time she realized her life would never be the way it was, not after Brock. She wanted Brock and her life in New Orleans, and she knew she couldn’t have both. She sighed with resignation.

  Brock turned her to face him, his arms loosely entwined about her, bringing her close against him. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She raised her eyes and saw the concern in his. “No, I’m not, Brock. What do we do next? Mark may never call New Orleans again.”

  “Let’s give it a day or two before I start combing the city.”

  “I?”

  “Yes, Samantha. Just me. You’ll remain here with the book. And this time you’d better not follow me. I can take care of myself if I’m not worrying about you.”

  “And I can take care of myself, especially if I don’t have to wait around worrying about you. I’m no good at rescuing knights in distress.”

  He held her close. “Oh, I’d say you’re very good. But I’m going this one alone. No arguing.”

  She looked up at him through lowered lashes. “Can we continue this discussion in our room?”

  He brushed her hand away, laughter in his eyes. “No. If Carlos’s men are looking for us, it will be easier to spot us together. Alone I can cover more ground.”

  “Are you implying I’m excess baggage?”

  “I know I’m going to regret saying this,” Brock looked heavenward, “but in this case, yes, you are.”

  “I have a day to convince you otherwise.”

  Shaking his head, he replied, “I’m banking on the fact that your brother will call and this subject will be academic.”

  Samantha sauntered toward the stairs, her mind already going over strategies to use in convincing Brock that she should go with him to look for Mark. A smile graced her lips as Brock unlocked their door. He knew the language, but she knew what Mark looked like.

  Brock tossed the key onto the dresser, then walked to the window to check the street below. When he turned around, he asked, “Do you have any cards?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Well, for the next twenty-four hours we’re going to be holed up in here. I thought we would play something.”

  Her eyes gleamed. “Play? What?”

  “Anything to occupy our time.”

  She opened her suitcase and placed the deck on the bed. “Deal.”

  * * *

  "Gin rummy." Samantha spread her cards out on the table between them several hours later.

  “Okay, I want to know who taught you to play cards so well,” Brock laid down his hand.

  Samantha’s laughter filled the room. “My brother. He’s quite good. In fact, he’s considered a card shark.”

  “Is his sister?”

  “Why, Mr. Slader! Me, a card shark?” She looked properly offended while she wrote down the score. “Do you want a rematch?” As she shuffled the deck, she added, “That would be your sixth loss. Or would you rather admit defeat?”

  “I don’t think my ego can take losing seven times in a row. Why don’t we do something else to pass the time?”

  “We’ve already deciphered the book." She started a game of solitaire on the bed. “I have another deck of cards somewhere in my suitcase if you want to play double solitaire or we could play charade. Hey, I’ve got an idea. We could just talk."

  "I’ve exhausted the subject about myself, but I’d be glad to hear about your life. Why aren’t you married?"

  "Never found the right guy. Why did you decide to quit your nine to five job?"

  "Because it wasn’t nine to five. I worked sixty hours a week and discovered my wife wanted the money I made but not me. While I was at work, she was home—interviewing perspective lovers."

  Samantha quit playing her game of solitaire and placed the deck of cards on the table. "I’m sorry. I put in a lot of hours at my bookstore, but then I don’t have anyone I need to rush home to. So you discovering she was having an affair caused you to quit your job and wander the world?"

  "No, I quit before I found out about her latest lover. She knew I was unhappy, but kept encouraging me to stay where I was. One day, I’d had enough. I came home early to tell her. Instead I found her in our bed with another man." His gaze trapped hers. "Were you ever serious about anyone?"

  "A couple of men through the years but the relationship didn’t lead anywhere, especially after I bought my bookstore and worked to make it successful." She shrugged. "The timing was never right. But if you ever get tired of wandering the earth, you could always help me sell books. I bet you’d be good at the travel ones. The customer could get firsthand knowledge of what to avoid.” She attempted a teasing tone tha
t fell flat.

  “Sam, I won’t get tired.”

  “Can you be so sure of the future? I thought you didn’t go in for making plans of any sort.” For twenty-four hours they had been avoiding the subject of their future together—or rather the nonexistence of a future together.

  “There are some things I know about myself. I don’t kid myself either.”

  “And you think I do?”

  He nodded, twisted away, and stood. “Maybe you should call Nell. Then I’ll go out to check around for your brother.”

  “The sooner we find my brother, the sooner I’m on my way back to the States? Is that your plan?” Sarcasm laced her voice as she rose.

  “Yes.”

  His closed expression was back, and Samantha wanted to scream with frustration. “Why are you suddenly shutting me out? We’ve come too far in our relationship to go backward now.”

  "What relationship? You’re dreaming that we can have a life together.”

  "I’m not your ex-wife.”

  “No, you’re not, but it still doesn’t make any difference. This isn’t reality." He waved his hand toward the window that looked out over Manaus. "You want to extend the fantasy beyond Brazil, and I know it wouldn’t work between us. You have me painted into a picture with you in New Orleans, living in suburbia, commuting to work five days a week. Does the house have a white picket fence around it? How many children do we have in your dream?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. This," she gestured toward the table and chairs where they had spent hours playing cards, deciphering the book and talking as if they were good friends—or more, “was a nice way to spend some time waiting. I told you I wasn’t very good at waiting. I must commend you on your ability to make the time go by so fast. You are very entertaining. I…” She suddenly stopped and drew in a deep, calming breath. She would never be able to change his mind, and she needed to accept that truth. Through shimmering eyes, she watched Brock cross the room to her, anguish in his look.

  Drawing her into his embrace, he whispered in a raw voice, “Samantha, I never wanted to hurt you. I think I’m handling this all wrong. I’ve handled this whole situation wrong from the very beginning. I should never have taken you to the mission. I should have walked away from the scene in the hotel lobby.”

  She inhaled another deep breath and pulled away from him, making sure none of the hurt showed on her expression. “I’m fine. Really. I think we’d better call Nell, then look for Mark if we have to.”

  His eyebrows rose. “We?”

  “We’re a team. We’re in this together. Yes, we,” she said firmly, placing some distance between them while she slipped on her shoes.

  She was determined to put their relationship back on a bantering level, non-personal, all business. She had to if she was going to leave Manaus with her dignity and pride intact. Brock had made it painfully clear there was no place for her in his life, but it was extremely difficult to remember that when she was so near him.

  “I thought we settled this yesterday. I’ll go look for Mark while you stay here and guard the book.”

  She lifted her chin a fraction. “You may have settled it, but I didn’t. I can be very stubborn. Now, I can either go with you at your side, or I’ll follow you like yesterday. Which will it be?”

  With a sigh he rolled his eyes, asking no one in particular, “How did I ever deserve this?”

  “Good, I’m glad you see the wisdom in my accompanying you on your search.” Samantha walked to the door and waited for Brock.

  Downstairs in the lobby Brock placed another long distance call to New Orleans for Samantha. When the phone was ringing at her store, he handed her the receiver.

  “Nell, this is Samantha. Has my brother called back?”

  “Yes, a few hours after you phoned yesterday. I gave him the message and he said he would contact you. He hasn’t?”

  “No,” Samantha answered slowly, trying to keep her alarm at bay. There could be a lot of reasons why he hadn’t contacted her yet. But all the ones she thought of meant he was in trouble and couldn’t get to her. “Thanks, Nell. We’ll wait here until he does.”

  “When are you coming home? Everyone is asking about you.”

  “If I’m lucky, in a couple of days. Bye.” Samantha hung up and turned to Brock. “He called the shop yesterday and told Nell he’d be in touch with us.” Fear gripped her, a trace of panic in her voice she couldn’t erase.

  “Sam, don’t jump to any conclusions. He may not even be in Manaus. At least now we know to stay right here until we hear from him.”

  She forced her body to relax. “Yes, you’re right. What do we do now? Wait upstairs in the room?”

  “I’ll check with the desk. Maybe there’s a message for us.”

  She was glad one of them was thinking straight. Her mind was a maze of jumbled thoughts. It was hard dealing with her emotions concerning Brock and the trouble Mark was in at the same time.

  At the desk there was a message and a package for them from Mark. The clerk told Brock that a young boy had delivered them to the hotel that morning. Samantha decided to wait until they were upstairs in their room before opening it and reading the message.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Upstairs in their hotel room, Brock and Samantha carefully went over the note from Mark.

  “He wants us to go to a carnival ball this evening?” Samantha again examined the note closely to make sure it was her brother’s handwriting.

  “He’ll be there as a joker and he wants you to wear the costume he sent in the package and bring the book.” Brock fingered the box that accompanied the note.

  “Should we? This ball may not be a safe place to exchange something like that.”

  “I certainly don’t want to leave it behind. We each will take half of the book pages. Since they’re small, we can conceal them easily.”

  “Why a carnival ball with so many people around?”

  “I guess your brother feels safer in a crowd of merrymakers. He might be right.”

  Soon everything would be over with. She would be able to return to New Orleans in a day or two. The prospect of seeing Mark again relieved her, but the prospect of saying good-bye to Brock depressed her. By the end of the week, she would be placing orders for her store and recommending books to her customers. Why wasn’t she more excited about returning to her normal, safe life where she knew what to expect?

  * * *

  The crowd of merrymakers, all dressed in various outlandish costumes, pressed in on Samantha as she scanned the people, trying to find a joker.

  “Nothing." Disappointed she settled back on her three-inch heels.

  She was still astonished at the outfit her brother had sent her. She wasn’t even sure she should call it a costume, it was so scant. She felt definitely underdressed in her harem attire, and she was going to give her brother a piece of her mind when she did catch up with him—after hugging him and making sure he was all right.

  “We're early. The ball has just started, Sam.”

  “I couldn’t stand to wait another minute in that hotel room.” In truth Samantha couldn’t stand to be so near Brock and not be able to tell him she loved him and know it would lead to a permanent relationship.

  “Give your brother time. He’s probably waiting for the ball to get into full swing.”

  Brock stood next to her, dressed in a pirate’s costume. When he had returned to their room and shown it to her, he had said he couldn’t pass it up, knowing she would appreciate it.

  “What if something has happened to him? What if we can’t find him in this crowd? I can’t believe he suggested a carnival ball. It’s worse than I thought. It’s chaos.” She tried to keep her voice from sounding frantic, but she didn’t think she was doing a very good job.

  “I think that’s the reason your brother set up this meeting place. It’s easy to get lost in a crowd of half-drunk people.”

  For another fifteen minutes t
hey both looked around for Mark, but when they had seen every costume imaginable but a joker, Brock said, “I’ll scout out the garden. I’ve noticed people going outside. Stay put and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Samantha nodded absently, for her attention was trained on the entrance. Another horde of revelers was coming into the ballroom. In the midst of the new arrivals there was a joker, and Samantha’s heart leapt at the sight. When the joker looked her way, she waved at him from across the room and caught his attention. He waved back and motioned for her to follow him.

  A mass of people stood between them, and it took quite a while for Samantha to weave her way across the ballroom. At first she couldn’t see Mark, and then she spied him near an entrance off the ballroom. Her gaze was fixed on her brother as he disappeared down a hallway, and she followed him as quickly as possible, determined not to lose him.

  He went into a room, signaling at the doorway for her to hurry. When she turned the knob, she finally realized that Brock wasn’t behind her and that she was completely alone. Brock had the other half of the book.

  That was okay. She’d explain to Mark, then go find Brock. She stepped into the deserted looking room. Where was Mark?

  Bewildered, she was turning around to leave when the lights went out, the door slammed close behind her, and a hand smothered her scream, cutting off her breath. Her lungs started burning as she struggled against the large body, trying to inhale some air. With her legs kicking the shins of the man who held her captive, she bit down hard on the soft flesh of his palm.

  Carlos—Samantha could tell it was him—muttered a few curse words but retained a tight hold on her struggling body. “Where’s the book? I know your brother gave it to you.” He tried to lock her against him while searching her body.

  Suddenly the door burst open, and the man was pulled away from her, his huge body thrown against the wall. She raced toward the door and the light switch. Flipping it on, she whirled to find Brock pounding his fist into Carlos’s jaw. He slumped forward and collapsed to the marble floor.