by Ginna Gray
"Maybe you missed something. Why don't we have another look."
Reluctantly Abigail handed over her purse for another search. His mouth twitching with suppressed amusement, David watched his cousin's face as he upended the bag and began to empty the numerous compartments. By the time everything was heaped in a pile on the floor, Travis was as flabbergasted as David had been the first time. Even Elise and Erin looked stunned.
"Good Lord," Travis murmured.
"Amazing, isn't it?" David grinned at Abigail, who squirmed on the sofa. "Abbey likes to be prepared."
"If you'll recall," she said haughtily, "a few of those things have come in quite handy."
For the next half hour David and Travis examined every single item minutely, with no luck.
"Well, that's it. We're stymied," David said. "We've gone over everything twice and there's no—" He stopped and looked at Chelsea. The dog lay curled up in the corner of the sofa with her toy puppy. "Wait a minute. There is one thing we haven't examined."
"What?" the others asked in unison.
"That stuffed toy, that's what. It was in the side pocket of Abbey's purse along with Chelsea when she was on that plane."
"Well, c'mon, what're we waiting for?"
But not even Travis's charm was potent enough to separate Chelsea from her "puppy." When he reached for the toy, the little dog snarled and snapped. He felt the graze of sharp little teeth and jumped back, nursing his hand.
David fared no better, and in the end they had to enlist Abigail's help.
"Hurry, please," she said, holding the hysterical dog in her arms while David and Travis moved away at a safe distance to examine the stuffed animal.
Chelsea lunged and barked, straining to get at them as they poked and squeezed and inspected each seam. Her barks became even more frantic when David popped the clear plastic cover off one of the eyes. "Nutsy, neurotic fur ball," he growled back.
Then he forgot the dog as he plucked out the floating pupil. "Ah-ha! Pay dirt!" He held the round dot up to the light. "Boys and girls, I believe we've found the list that Sergio wants so bad."
"What do you think it is?" Elise asked, wringing her hands.
"Given the CIA's interest, I'd say vital government secrets. Without an enlarger, I can't read it, so I don't know what."
"Now that you've found it, what're you going to do with it?" Erin questioned.
"For now, put it back where it was." He slipped the dot back into the convex plastic cover, snapped it onto the white "eyeball," and tossed the toy back to Chelsea. "There you go, girl, as good as new."
Abigail released the dog, and after giving the two men a last warning growl, she took her toy and raced out of the room.
"What's our next move?" Travis inquired.
David's face hardened. "For starters, I'm going back to Alhaja Verde and find Leo Bates and get some answers. Even if I have to kick butt to do it."
Excitement poured through Abigail at the prospect of taking action against the little weasel who had set them up, and she jumped up out of her chair, her eyes alight. "Yeah! Let's go kick some butt!" she cheered with pugnacious relish.
"Oh, Lord," David groaned, rolling his eyes heavenward. "I've created a monster." He looked at Travis and shook his head. "Would you believe, just a few days ago she was a timid little thing who swore she could never strike a soul?"
"You're the one who told me to loosen up and go with the flow," Abigail said with a lift of her chin.
"Yeah, well, not this much. And you can forget going back to Alhaja Verde. You're staying here with Elise and Erin, where it's safe... at least for now."
"Whoa. Just a minute, brother of mine. Who says we're staying here? Elise and I are going with you. We can help, too."
"Aw, hell." David pulled both hands down over his face. "God, I need a cigarette," he muttered, then glared. "Look, you women aren't going, and that's that."
"Oh, yeah? Says who?" Erin bristled, and the battle was on.
Abigail and Elise joined in as well. Travis folded his arms over his chest, crossed his legs at the ankles and sat back with a grin to watch the fireworks as David tried to out-shout and out-argue three women.
"As usual you're being a pigheaded, overprotective chauvinistic jerk!"
"Erin is right, David. You do have a tendency to shelter us too much. We are your sisters but we're not little girls anymore. We don't need big brother hovering over us."
"Now look. We're not talking about a picnic here. This is going to be dangerous."
"Oh, really? And what we've been doing for the past few days hasn't been?" Abigail challenged.
"There was no other choice then. There is now."
"That's my point," Erin interjected, fixing him with an exasperated glare. "And if you would shut up and listen instead of bellowing orders, you'd learn that there is another choice. I have a better plan for getting the information you need, one a lot less dangerous than getting into a brawl."
"Oh, terrific. I can hardly wait to hear this." David addressed the sarcastic remark to the ceiling, his mouth turned down in a derisive grimace.
"Senor Santana is giving a party tonight at his home on Alhaja Ver—"
"A party! You want us to go to a party! Of all the stu—"
"Oh, shut up, David, and hear her out."
The sharp order, coming from Elise, stunned David so, he obeyed without thinking.
"Senor Fernando Ramdn Joaquin Vega de Santana is the chief politico of the islands," Erin explained, shooting her brother a smug look. "Very little occurs on any of them that he doesn't know about. If approached carefully, it's possible that we could persuade him to shed some light on this situation."
"You know... that's not bad," Travis said.
David frowned. "What kind of man is this Senor Santana? Can we trust him?"
"That depends," Erin answered. "He's ambitious, shrewd and manipulative. His loyalties are questionable, his ethics even more so. But... he is quite interested in working a deal with Max and Sam to export local arts and crafts though Global Imports, skimming his cut off the top, of course. I would think that would be incentive enough for him to help us."
"Mmm, maybe. It depends on what the other side has to offer. But it might be worth a shot."
"If it doesn't work out, we can always go back to Plan A and wring the information out of Leo," Travis drawled.
"Okay, we'll do it. But I still don't think it's safe to take Abbey back to Alhaja Verde, so you women will stay here while Travis and I will go to the party."
"Oh, no, I'm afraid you're wrong there, David," Elise informed him sweetly. "You see, the invitation is for the Lawfords and the Delanys. Security is very tight at these affairs. Without Erin and me, you couldn't get through the front gate. So like it or not, we're coming with you."
David cursed, but Erin pretended not to hear him. "Good. Then it's settled. You men can wear Sam's and Max's tuxedos, and I'm sure that between us, Elise and I can find something for Abbey."
"Of course we can," Elise agreed. "How about that slinky aqua sheath of yours. It would look wonderful with her eyes."
"You're right. It would be perfect. She's shorter than we are, so we'll have to hem it up, but otherwise it should fit."
"Oh, I don't know," Abigail protested as the two women hustled her toward one of the bedroom wings. "I just wouldn't feel right about borrowing—"
"Nonsense. We insist. And we'll do your makeup and hair, too. Elise gives a marvelous haircut." Erin lifted a handful of the long, still-damp tresses that hung down past Abigail's hips. "What do you think about cutting it to shoulder length, Elise?"
"Hold it right there!" The barked order brought the three women to a halt at the entrance to the right bedroom wing. They turned and found themselves facing David's wrathful glare. "Don't you cut so much as an inch off Abbey's hair. You got that? You do, and you'll wish you'd gone back to Santa Fe when you had the chance."
Abigail turned the color of a ripe tomato, and Travis struggled
not to laugh. The twins blinked in surprise. They exchanged a quick glance, and identical slow grins tilted their lips. "Whatever you say, brother dear," Erin said wickedly, and slipped her arm through Abigail's. On Abigail's other side, Elise did the same.
As she walked down the hall between the sisters, she could feel their gazes on her pink face.
"Well, well, well," Erin drawled.
***
"Whew! You've got it bad, don't you, Cuz," Travis observed with a grin the moment the women disappeared from sight.
"Shut up, Travis."
David stomped to the bar and snatched up the telephone. He punched out a series of numbers as though he were driving nails with his fingertips.
"Who are you calling?"
David ignored him, and after a moment he barked into the mouthpiece, "I want to speak to either Max Delany or Sam Lawford." A pause, then, "Look, lady, I don't give a Bat's behind if they're in conference with the Prime Minister of Great Britain! This is their brother-in-law, and I'm calling about an emergency concerning their wives."
***
Swirling the champagne in his glass, David ground his teeth as he watched Senor Santana take Abbey's hand and pat it... again. Dammit, the man had been salivating over her like a dog with a meaty bone from the moment they walked through the door.
Santana was a smooth operator, he'd give the oily bastard that. He had cleverly managed to separate Abbey from their party and was standing talking with her, a few feet away.
Their host smiled into Abbey's eyes and touched her bare shoulder. David's eyes narrowed. His fingers tightened around the stem of the glass, and the hand in his pocket balled into a fist. The urge to knock the Latin Lothario's pearly teeth down his throat was becoming more irresistible by the second.
A light touch on David's arm caused him to start and drew his attention to his sister. He looked down into brown eyes that sparkled with wicked amusement, and his own narrowed even'more.
"Did I forget to mention that Senor Santana is something of a ladies' man?" Erin asked a shade too innocently.
Elise giggled, and Travis rocked back on his heels, grinning.
David glared at the three of them. "Funny. Real funny."
When he looked at things objectively, he supposed he couldn't blame Senor Santana for being smitten. From the moment he'd first gotten a look at Abbey in that dress he'd been knocked for a loop himself... and he was still reeling.
That aqua sequined number fit that luscious body like a glove. It glittered and sparkled and clung to every dip and curve as faithfully as a lover's touch. He'd wanted to peel the thing off of her and make love to her on the spot the instant she'd walked into his sisters' living room.
But it was more than just the dress. Erin and Elise had redone her makeup to accentuate her best features, bringing oat those beautiful eyes and high cheekbones. They'd styled her hair in a fancy upsweep, with part of it hanging down her back in a mass of soft curls that made his fingers itch to run through them. The way Abbey looked now, he couldn't believe that he had ever thought of her as just attractive. Hell, she was flat-out gorgeous.
Yes, from a purely objective view, he could understand Santana's fascination with Abbey.
But, dammit, he wasn't interested in looking at the situation objectively. Abbey was his! And he didn't want any Latin lover touching her—with his eyes or his hands.
David deposited his empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter and pulled a cigarette from the plastic bag in his inside pocket. He ignored the amused looks his sisters and cousin gave him. On the trip over from Rincon, when they had learned why he was searching the boat, they had all thought it hilarious that Abbey had hidden his cigarettes. Laughed like a pack of hyenas, the lot of them, he thought sourly, cupping a match to the end of the cigarette.
The stash in his pocket, which he'd found taped to the underside of the galley sink, was all he had. When they'd stopped by Pepe's to get him to keep an eye on the Freewind and Chelsea, the damned cigarette machine had been on the fritz. Or at least, that's what Pepe had claimed, but David was beginning to suspect that Abbey or his sisters had put a bug in his ear.
David drew on the cigarette, his gaze boring a hole through Senor Fernando Ramon Joaquin Vega de Santana. He was considering marching over there and yanking Abbey away from the lech—and to hell with asking for his help—when he happened to notice a man across the room who looked familiar. Where had he seen that guy recently? Then it hit him: it was the man he'd noticed in the lobby of Abbey's hotel—the one he'd known but couldn't place. He still couldn't, but he was more positive than ever that he knew him.
"Travis, see that guy over there standing by the pillar?" he said, not taking his eyes from the man. "Does he look familiar to you?"
Casually, Travis's gaze drifted in that direction. "Well, I'll be damned. That's Charley Higgins."
"Charley Higgins? Of course! That's the guy who left the Bureau to work for the CIA?"
"That's him. I'd heard scuttlebutt before I left D.C. that he was heading up a top-secret operation, but I didn't think about it being here."
David stubbed out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "C'mon. You and I are going to have a little talk with good ol' Charley."
"Hey! What about us?" Erin asked.
"Stay out of trouble. And keep an eye on Abigail for me," David said, and began to make his way around the dance floor.
***
Abigail's smile felt frozen. She murmured something noncommittal in reply to Senor Santana's latest suggestive remark and edged away a step. He, of course, edged right along with her. She was going to murder David Blaine. With her bare hands. Slowly. She had been expecting him to come to her rescue, but instead the clod had left her alone with this lecherous Latin. Now he and Travis were leaving the ballroom with another man.
At first, Senor Santana's attention had been flattering. She had been thrilled with Erin and Elise's handiwork, but David's stony silence when he'd seen her had been deflating. Senor Santana's interest had been a balm to her wounded ego. His slick charm had quickly lost its appeal, however.
Abigail was racking her brain for a way to escape their host without insulting him, when another man approached.
"Fernando, my friend," he said, addressing Senor Santana. "You have monopolized this lovely creature all evening. I must insist that you give the rest of us a chance." The men shook hands and greeted each other heartily. Fernando was not pleased, but only the hard glint in his eyes betrayed him as he performed the introduction with his usual effusive charm. He identified the man as Nathan Sumner, a businessman and yachtsman who vacationed often on Alhaja Verde.
Mr. Sumner was a tall, slender man of perhaps forty-five. His smooth good looks were set off by what appeared to be a perpetual tan and a thick shock of black hair, gone silver at the temples, which gave him a distinguished appearance. There was an air of power and wealth about him that was unmistakable.
Scarcely had Senor Santana finished the introduction than the band began a slow tune. Nathan Sumner turned to Abigail with a suave smile and took her hand. "Would you care to dance, Miss Stewart?"
Abigail accepted the invitation with the avidity of a drowning victim grabbing a lifeline. Excusing herself, she went into Nathan Sumner's arms and gave a sigh of relief as he whirled her across the dance floor.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I get the impression that you are... shall we say... not unhappy to leave Fernando's company," he said, smiling at her with wry amusement.
She grimaced. "Does it show that much?"
"Frankly, yes. But don't worry, Fernando is so confident he is irresistible, I'm sure he didn't notice."
"You're probably right. Anyway, I want to thank you for coming to my rescue."
"Believe me, I was delighted to do so." His ironic smile did not reach his eyes, and Abigail experienced a sudden chill as he maneuvered her through the other dancers. This man, she realized, was as cold as Senor Santana was smarmy. Falling silent, she looked over his shou
lder and wondered if she had not jumped from the proverbial frying pan into the fire.
They reached the edge of the dance floor beside the open terrace doors. To Abigail's surprise, he stopped and took her elbow in firm grip.
"What are you—?"
"You are coming with me, Miss Stewart. Quietly," he added, smiling at her with chilling menace. "Please do not try to resist me or call for help. Two of my men have their guns trained on you right now. If you oppose me in any way, they will shoot you."
Shocked, Abigail stared at him, her heart hammering. "Who are—?" Her eyes widened as her gaze touched the silver at his temples. "Oh, my stars," she gasped. This was the man from the yacht.
"Smile, Miss Stewart," he ordered. "We want everyone to think you're merely stepping out on the terrace with me for a breath of fresh air, now don't we?"
He propelled her through the doors. Several couples were on the terrace enjoying the balmy night, but none paid them any mind. Coolly, without the least sign of tension or haste, Nathan Sumner escorted her across the flagstones and down the steps.
Glancing back over her shoulder Abigail saw Erin silhouetted in the doorway, and hope leaped inside her. Had Erin seen them? If she had she would find David and he would come after her.
When they entered the shadows, Nathan picked up the pace, and though Abigail tried to hang back, he hustled her along the path toward the gate at the back of the garden. Halfway there, two shapes materialized out of the darkness on either side and one grasped her other arm as they closed ranks around them.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked as she stumbled along in her borrowed high heels and long gown.
"Somewhere where we can... talk. About a certain item that you have that belongs to me. Somewhere private, where we won't be interrupted."
Abigail swallowed hard. She wished she hadn't asked.
On the other side of the gate a dark sedan waited. Abigail was stuffed into the back seat and, to her horror, when she straightened up she found herself wedged in between Nathan Sumner and Ivor, who grinned at her evilly.
Fear clawed at her. It was her fault. All her fault. Oh, God, how could she have been so stupid? When she noticed his silver temples, why hadn't she made, the connection right away? She'd been so anxious to escape Fernando Santana, she hadn't given a thought to anything else. Now she was going to pay for the stupid mistake with her life. Oh, David, help me. Please help me.