As though feeling those furtive looks as well, Enrique frowned, deepening lines and furrows burned into his leathery skin by countless hours under the blazing sun.
"This thing with Daniela, it's good she has you with her," he asked, gesturing toward the house. "She tells me you have been her salvation. And Lyssa's."
Rafe felt a sudden pressure in his chest as surprise jolted through him. He could hear her now, singing his praises to anyone who would listen. Doing her best to mend his fences for him. He wanted to be grateful. He was grateful, damn it. But it still galled him that he'd ended up in this mess.
"I don't know about salvation, but protecting her is my job."
Enrique focused his attention on his badge, and Rafe could have sworn the man's eyes filled with pride. "You work for the government, she said."
"Yes, the Secret Service. It's a branch of the Treasury Department."
Enrique looked both annoyed and amused. "You think your father is so ignorant he doesn't know that?" he chided in a surprisingly gentle tone.
Rafe felt the burn start at his throat and crawl up his neck to his cheeks. When he'd been a kid, he'd sometimes been embarrassed by Enrique's lack of education. After a while, though, he'd noticed how everyone deferred to his opinion, even Mancini himself. Underneath the untutored speech and unsophisticated ways was a brilliant mind. After he'd figured that out, he'd started to pay closer attention to the things his father told him.
"I meant no disrespect," he said honestly. "Not everyone knows where Secret Service fits in."
Enrique measured him with those dark eyes before sighing. "Once, when I was younger even than Lyssa, my father and I went into Puebla to sell a calf. We came to a bridge over the river which was the only way into town from the south. It was an old bridge, only wide enough for a single cart. ¿Comprende?"
He lifted his eyebrows inquiringly, and Rafe nodded, both puzzled and intrigued.
"On this day we came upon an angry crowd gathered at the mouth of the bridge. In the center were two carts, one leaving, the other arriving. It seemed those carts had been there for hours, neither driver wanting to be the one to back down. No amount of angry protests from others who needed to use that bridge would move them. It was a matter of honor, each declared. A man who is in the right never backs down."
Rafe drew a careful breath. "What happened?"
Enrique chuckled. "The wife of the man returning home arrived with her hungry babies—and a shotgun. She would shoot the burros of each man in turn, she said, unless both men backed off the bridge. Instantly, the two men began shouting protests. In the end, united against a common foe, they negotiated their own compromise. They even ended up in the cantina, making rude remarks about women while getting blind drunk."
Rafe felt something let loose inside. Habit had him rubbing his hand over his chest before he realized what he was doing. "I'm tired of standing on the bridge, Padre," he said gruffly.
His father's eyes were suddenly damp. "Me too, my son. Me too."
Rafe never knew who made the first move, but suddenly they were hugging each other. It had taken him a long time to get there, but finally, thanks to Danni, he'd come home.
* * *
After retrieving the walkie-talkie from the trunk, Rafe went into the bathroom off the tasting room and locked the door. The communications equipment Linc had brought with him was so sophisticated that a voice that was barely audible in the field came through clearly on the other end. The men in the field wore ear pieces with tiny microphones attached. The one Rafe carried was designed to look like a cell phone.
Linc replied to his call, informing him tersely that the men were all in place. "He showed up around noon, driving a white Bronco with Washington plates. Parked in the pull-off and off-loaded a lawn chair and a cooler before driving on down the road. Twenty minutes later he showed up on foot. Since then he's been kicked back in the culvert."
Rafe felt his gut tighten. "We'll be leaving here at 1600," he said, checking his watch. "Expect us at your location by 1607."
After signing off, he tucked the walkie-talkie into his back pocket, then flushed the toilet and washed his hands in case anyone was waiting outside. After drying his hands, he unlocked the door and walked through the silent and empty main room toward the exit. As he pushed open the door he saw Eduardo Mancini bearing down on him, a look of fierce determination on his face.
A confrontation had been inevitable from the moment he made the decision to walk Mancini land again. No matter what the man said he didn't intend to lose his temper. But only because he knew it would upset Danni.
Mancini stopped a few feet away, looking even more eager than Rafe to have this meeting over. He didn't extend his hand. Rafe hadn't figured he would and tucked both of his in his back pockets. "Happy Birthday, Patron," he said coldly.
Mancini frowned. "So, you've finally come back."
"Looks that way."
Mancini took a cigar from his pocket, then frowned irritably before jabbing it into the pocket again. "Are you married?" he demanded, pinning Rafe with a pugnacious stare.
"Why would that possibly matter to you?"
"Don't get smart with me, Rafael. I paddled your bottom more than once. I can do it again if I have to."
"I doubt it," Rafe said mildly.
"She still wants you," he said, spitting out the words as though they tasted foul.
"If she does, that's between the two of us."
Mancini narrowed his gaze. The years had added a patrician sharpness to his features and deepened the look of melancholy around his eyes. Rafe's father had told him once that he'd never gotten over the death of Danni's mother. Though he didn't want to feel anything but contempt for the man who'd driven him away, he knew what it felt like to have a part of your heart ripped out.
"For what it's worth, if you're fortunate enough to win my Danni's hand, you have my blessing."
It struck Rafe that Mancini looked exactly like a man feeling the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his spine. Suspicion was as much a part of Rafe as breathing. It sharpened now to a razor's edge. "You sure you don't have me mixed up with someone else, Patron? Someone worthy."
"I know who you are. I also know what you are."
Rafe's mouth took on a cynical line. "A mongrel bastard, I believe were the exact words Eddie used."
Anger churned in Mancini's brown eyes. "His words, not mine," he clipped out.
"Words you put in his mouth," Rafe shot back before he regained control of the bitter anger he hadn't quite mastered.
"You're wrong, son." Mancini suddenly looked every day of his sixty-plus years. "What Eddie said and did was wrong. Dead wrong. If I could give you back the years he took from you I would, and gladly. But that's impossible. All I can do now is offer you and your parents my deepest apology."
Before Rafe got his jaw unhinged, Eduardo turned on his heel and started to walk away. Two steps later, he turned back to pin Rafe with another of those formidable looks. "One more thing you need to know, Rafael. You were born on this land. It's your home as much as it is mine. If I had wanted you to leave I would have told you that to your face. Until I do, you are always welcome here."
* * *
The sun was kissing the tops of the trees as Danni worked her way through the crowd, catching up on gossip, laughing at a joke she'd heard a dozen times before, admiring a new baby, effusing over an engagement ring, congratulating the groom-to-be.
The sounds and the smells, the laughter and music, the smiles on faces she'd known all of her life—it was all so wonderfully familiar. It soothed her somehow, knowing that there would always be a place for her here.
By the time she made her way to the buffet table she was ravenous. After months of surviving on little more than tea and toast, she was thrilled to discover the queasiness seemed to have disappeared.
A good-looking young man with soulful eyes and long, glossy hair who'd been filling a plate with sweets greeted her shyly before ambling off to join t
he pretty teenager waiting for him near the pool.
After deliberating carefully, Danni dipped a plump shrimp into the spicy cocktail sauce and popped it into her mouth with a little hum of pleasure.
"Obviously Baby likes shrimp," Rafe commented as he joined her.
She smiled, pleased to see that the stony look around his eyes was gone. "Baby likes just about everything today. I feel exactly like a squirrel storing up nuts for the winter."
Rafe lifted a hand to smooth her collar, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of her throat. A little thrill ran through her. It was the first time he'd touched her all day. "We need to leave soon, Princess."
Her brow puckered. "Oh Rafe, no! It's way too early. I promised Aunt Gina I'd help her serve the cake. And Lyssa's having such a good time. Seth even talked her into being his partner for the sack race."
"Yeah? How'd they do?"
"They won! I'm surprised he hasn't told you. He's certainly told everyone else who would stand still long enough."
He grinned, but she noticed he seemed distracted. "I imagine he'll get around to it."
"I looked for you before it started, but I must have missed you in the crowd."
"Hmm?" He was searching the crowd, obviously looking for someone. She felt a moment's fear, then realized it wasn't a threat he was watching for.
"I wanted to watch the race with you," she said pointedly. So far this afternoon she'd spent a grand total of ten minutes with him, nine of which had just ticked by. It was not the way she had envisioned this day when she realized he was coming with her.
She poked a finger into his hard belly. "Rafe, I said I wanted to watch the race with you."
He flicked her an impatient glance. "I appreciate the effort."
He was humoring her, she realized, beginning to fume. "I got to award the prizes. I gave Seth the pack of baseball cards. Lyssa got a copy of the Kama Sutra. I figured it was time she learned how to please a man."
"Great."
She was wondering if she would break her toes if she kicked him in the shins when his gaze whipped back to her face. "What did you say?"
"Obviously nothing that interests you," she snapped before stalking off. He caught her before she'd gone more than a few steps.
He grabbed her but instead of stopping her, he simply changed direction, pulling her along with him toward the path leading down to the pond. As they passed, eyes snapped their way, some startled, some amused. His brother Carlos gave him a thumbs-up. Rafe flashed him a grin that dripped testosterone.
Danni felt her temper start to sizzle. "Rafe, stop this!" she ordered. "Everyone's watching."
"Good for them."
She considered digging in her heels, then realized that would be about as effective as a mouse trying to stop a charging bull. "This is silly," she shouted.
He didn't stop until they were screened from view by the berry vines. Winded, she took a moment to catch her breath, only to find herself spun around to face him. Before she could blast him, his hands came up to frame her face. His eyes were very green as they bored into hers.
"Did you or did you not slug your brother in the face?" he demanded, his voice rough.
Since she knew it was futile to struggle, she pressed her hands against his chest and felt the pounding of his heart beneath her palms.
"Why would you ask that?" she probed cautiously as he dropped his hands to her shoulders.
"No reason—just the fact that his nose is twice its normal size. Which I happened to notice when he apologized to me for acting like an ass."
"What did he say?"
His eyes crinkled, but his voice was drenched in pure masculine impatience. "He advised me never to make you mad."
Danni felt laughter bubble in her throat. "Ah."
He glowered. "Well?"
"I might have overreacted just a little," she hedged.
His jaw tightened. He was furious, she realized with a large measure of surprise. "Damn it, Danni, you could have hurt yourself!"
"But I didn't." She risked a tiny smile. "That stupid vest might have gotten a little blood spattered on it, though. I never knew a broken nose could bleed so … profusely."
His scowl was truly lethal. A lesser woman would be shaking in her sandals. "Did you talk to my father, too?" he demanded, his voice silky now.
"Not intentionally. He and Papa overheard me talking to Eddie. For a minute or two I was afraid your dad was going to tear poor Eddie apart. By the time the three of us were finished with him, he was pretty shaken."
He closed his eyes, then dropped his forehead to hers. "What am I going to do with you?" he muttered.
"Love me?" The words slipped out as easily as a sigh. Now they hung there between them like the memory of the last time they stood here together.
His chest rose and fell in a ragged sigh. Tension coiled and hissed around them, and he seemed to be having trouble with his breathing. "God help me, I never stopped."
Because the words seemed torn from him against his will, it took a moment for her seething brain to translate the words. And then joy burst inside her. "Really?" she said in a little voice.
He lifted his head and looked down at her. Lines of tension framed his eyes and bracketed his mouth. "Yes, really."
She heard the irritation in his voice and bristled. "You don't sound very happy about it."
The mouth she loved to feel on hers tightened into a hard line. "I'm not."
Now it was hurt that pulsed through her. "Thanks for sharing that, Cardoza," she declared, wrapping herself in pride.
He ground his teeth. "Ah hell, honey, don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" she asked stiffly.
"Like you don't know whether to knee me in the groin or cry."
"Actually I'm just trying to work out the sequence."
His mouth curled up. "Would you consider an alternative?"
"I doubt it."
He sighed. "The crying I can probably handle, but the other might be a problem, considering I'm hoping you'll consent to have my baby at some future time. Or babies. The number is up to you."
"B-babies?" It was dream, she decided. Or a hallucination brought on by a food overdose.
Rafe saw the shock come into her eyes and cursed himself for handling this all wrong. Probably because for the first time in his life he hadn't taken the time to think things through thoroughly before committing himself. "Babies aren't a requirement," he backpedaled. "We can talk about that later."
Suddenly she had a death grip on his shirt with those tough little fists. "Now," she demanded with a fierce little scowl. "We'll talk now."
He glanced at his watch and hissed out another curse. "I admit my timing is lousy, but it's important that you know how much I … care about you."
"Love. You said you loved me."
Suddenly he felt as though a huge boulder had suddenly fallen on his chest cavity. "I do. More than you can ever imagine. I'm even crazy about Lyssa, although she's probably going to be a hard sell."
"Just what are you … selling?"
Hell. "Uh, well, marriage, I guess. Once your legal status is sorted out, of course."
Those dark elegant brows drew together, and her mouth took on a stubborn line. "Is this by any chance a proposal?"
Hadn't he just flat out said that? Puzzled, he ran over the conversation in his head before he caught on. "You want a big production, right? Flowers and a ring, things women need to make them feel like they've been courted." He slipped his arms around her and felt her shiver. "Give me a little time to figure out how to work it, okay? In the meantime, take this on account."
Afraid to give her time to think, he brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her as though his entire future depended on it. She jolted, then let out a little moan. The hands that had been pushing at his chest relaxed, and then she was kissing him back. Kissing him until his head spun and his knees went weak. It was all he could do to keep from stripping her bare and taking her on the grass with an entire
community only a shout away.
When his control loosened, he forced himself to draw back. Her face was flushed, her expression dazed. "Wow," she murmured, letting her eyes drift open.
He dragged air into his lungs, needing oxygen to clear his head. "Time to go, honey."
Still a little dazed, she gave him a puzzled look. "Why are you in such a hurry?"
Damn, he hated to lie to her. "I have my reasons."
"But—"
He silenced her with a quick kiss. "Danni, do you trust me?"
"Yes, of course. But—"
"If I told you I would never do anything to put either you or Lyssa at grave risk, would you believe me?"
She searched his face. "Is it important to you that I believe you?"
"Just about the most important thing I can think of at the moment."
Lifting a hand, she touched the scar where the fish hook had ripped his flesh. "In that case, yes, I believe you."
* * *
Chapter 17
« ^ »
From their position fifty feet away, Linc heard Folsom's phone ring. He flexed his shoulders to loosen the muscles, then eased his weapon from the holster. "Heads up," he whispered into the microphone. "ETA, six minutes."
Every man was braced and ready, eyes focused on the target crouched below sight level fifty feet away, his weapon in his hand. A successful result depended on training, split second timing—enough luck to have sweat trickling down Linc's back.
"As soon as he commits, A-team moves. B-team, if he refuses to surrender, make sure you have a clear shot, then take him down. But for God's sake—and the sake of that brave little girl and Rafe—make sure you don't miss."
* * *
By prearrangement, Lyssa sat on the right in the back seat with Rafe next to her. Seth drove. To Rafe's relief Danni accepted that as routine. It was his job, what he was about to do, he reminded himself. It was necessary. It was his only option.
He'd minimized the risk, planned for every possible contingency. He and Seth and the team backing him up were part of the Special Ops unit that would be sent in to rescue the president should he ever be kidnapped. Linc would have the responsibility of planning such an operation. In fact, the unit had a multitude of plans already in place—and practiced until they were second nature.
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