Secrets and Seduction (Dangerous Desires)

by Sahara Roberts

  “No.” Dr. Treviño grabbed him by the wrist. Sunken eyes bore into his with a wordless plea. He glanced at Guerrero, wearing slacks and a dress shirt while using his arm like a battering ram. “Quickly. What did you find?”

  “The swimming hole downstream…” How could he explain the carnage he expected them to find? “I couldn’t get a good look, but there’s blood and at least one body.”

  Dr. Treviño stared at him, his brow unfurling. He worked to swallow. The old man had his sympathy. While the doctor had likely seen a multitude of bodies before, the savage way he’d find this one, or ones, was unimaginable. If Paloma’s body was among those slaughtered, he’d have to tell Guerrero.

  “Go on.” Dr. Treviño waved, motioning toward the stable. “Get out…get out of here.” His brusque tone broke with his words. “He doesn’t need to see her horse right now.”

  “Have them take a gun.” Stupid thing to say. After so many years he still wasn’t used to being around people who were armed at all times. “Scavengers—” His stomach rolled. “Scavengers got to ’em already.”

  The doctor nodded.

  “Ask the doctor.” Manuel’s voice warbled over the damage to his mouth. “L-l-last night… Hhhe—”

  “Her body is by the river, Pablo,” Dr. Treviño announced.

  Andres whipped back to stare over his shoulder, wide-eyed. What was he doing? Trying to get himself killed? They didn’t even know if Paloma was down there yet. Whether she was or not, he hadn’t expected the doctor’s blunt notification.

  “Noooooo.” Guerrero’s anguished cry tore from his throat. Eyes wide, the wounded bull glared down to where Manuel scrambled in the dirt.

  Andres turned away, urging Bailarina on. Bile bubbled up his esophagus. His brain couldn’t process what was happening.

  “The doct—” Gunfire cut off the desperate words. One bullet after another echoed behind him. This time he let the thoroughbred set the pace.

  Andres followed Dr. Treviño and Monica into the office. What was he doing here? After what he went through yesterday, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to be included in anything Dr. Treviño shared again. He hadn’t slept much. Every time he closed his eyes the image of what happened replayed in his mind. Manuel hadn’t been an angel, but he didn’t deserve to die while pleading for the doctor’s help.

  Monica made herself comfortable in the high-backed office chair. He went around her, letting himself drop into the seat with the weight he’d been carrying for the last eighteen hours. Fear. Remorse. Guilt.

  Monica snuck a glance at him. He sat up, conscious of the fact he was supposed to act normal.

  Dr. Treviño took a seat, scooting in to lean forward on his desk. “Monica, have any of Pablo Guerrero’s men come to the office?”

  “One was here a few days ago.” She glanced in his direction before her gaze returned to the doctor. “Why?”

  “But no one has been here since yesterday?” Dr. Treviño prodded.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Is something wrong?”

  Dr. Treviño’s eyes bored into his. Did he want her to hear details about the atrocity by the swimming hole? His shoulders pressed into the chair back. Maybe both doctors were used to seeing people dead, but he never wanted to see another body part being dragged around by wild animals again.

  “What happened?” she persisted.

  Andres swallowed hard. His hands curled into fists.

  Dr. Treviño stared down at the desk for a moment. He took a deep breath before addressing Monica. “What I’m about to tell you cannot leave this room. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” She sat straighter, crossing her ankles in the process.

  “Not even to the staff.”

  She nodded, adjusting her doctor’s coat around the yellow embroidery on the front of her blouse.

  “Pablo Guerrero’s daughter was killed. Andres found the bodies yesterday.”

  Her hands shot to her chest. She turned, her eyes sad and compassionate. “Are you okay?” He forced himself to nod, because they expected an answer, though he might never be okay again.

  “We had other repercussions to deal with.”

  The shots ricocheted in his memory.

  “Alex took it upon himself to hand off to Andres the duties I asked him to perform.” Dr. Treviño shook his head. “He should never have done so.”

  The unexpected confession lifted a weight off his being, leaving him lightheaded. He wasn’t supposed to have been the one to call Manuel—not that he wished it on Alex. But Manuel knew the risks. Cartel members traded their lives on a daily basis for a hefty paycheck.

  His remorse stemmed from calling Manuel to his ultimate death. Hearing the task shouldn’t have been his to begin with gave him a sliver of peace.

  “Wait, bodies?” Monica looked from one to another. “How many?”

  “Two of her bodyguards were killed along with her.” Dr. Treviño continued. “The third is missing and believed to be the killer.”

  Money was thrown around with no regard, and lives were expendable. But he still found it hard to imagine Damian killing Paloma. He actually thought there was something more between them. Then there were the times he’d covered for Andres, distracting Paloma or diffusing situations before they got out of hand. Andres wondered if his body would be found down the river, another victim.

  “I wanted to confirm he hadn’t shown up here for whatever reason.”

  “No, and the girls haven’t mentioned anyone coming in while I was with patients.” Moni worried the corner of her mouth. “Why the secrecy about what happened?”

  Dr. Treviño’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know if Pablo is in denial or if he doesn’t want to appear weak. He has a huge amount of money tied up in and around Copas.” He tapped his fingers on the desk absentmindedly. “Uprooting his organization would be a costly task. Not something he’d do unless he was in dire straits.”

  Andres’s heart sank. The chances of getting his family’s holding back were next to nothing.

  Dr. Treviño snapped to attention. “Dora closed the office since all the morning appointments are done. Why don’t you two go out and get a bite to eat? I’m due to talk with Lupe next. I’ll see if she has news on anyone showing up unexpectedly.”

  Monica got up, and he followed suit. He reached around her for the doorknob, his hand still unsteady. Their fingers collided, and she pulled away, shooting him a confused look. Damn calluses. His grip on the knob tightened.

  “You’re frozen.”

  He shrugged. Over her head he saw Lupe swiveling around in her chair, pretending not to hang on every word. Truth be told, he hadn’t been able to get warm since he’d ridden into the stable yesterday. Rey had been going full force, tossing buckets and sending hay flying all over the place. He’d spent hours trying to settle the horses. With the threat of a killer lurking in the area the poor animals hadn’t been let out to pasture.

  Lupe passed by them without sparing a glance. The door clicked closed behind her.

  “How about we grab a cup of coffee to help warm you up first?” Monica headed to the coffee station. “We can go to the café when they’re done.” She offered him a small smile then stretched on her tiptoes to get cups out of the cabinet. “I’m sure Lupe would have a fit if we left them here alone with the doors locked.”

  He reached past her, their hands colliding again when she tried to move out of the way. He pulled back, trying to keep his fingers from folding of their own accord. Shit. Sure enough, when he brought the cups level, she was looking at him with concern. “Sorry, Doc,” he mumbled. “My hands are rough.” He put the mugs on the counter and pulled back.

  She cocked her head, sending her long hair sliding over her shoulder. “You work hard, Andres. There’s no shame in that.” Then to his horror, she took his hand in hers. He stiffened, and it took everything inside him not to yank his hand away.

  “Do they hurt?” She ran her fingers along the palm in a touch that could easily become a care
ss.

  “No.” He was well past hurting, the layers toughening with the chores.

  “Would you like me to get you something to help?”

  Would getting rid of the calluses make any difference? “Not if that makes you my doctor.”

  She gave him that cock-hardening glare, then her lips twitched. “I’m already your doctor.” She released his hand. “I have a file and everything.”

  Andres managed a weak smile.

  She rinsed the mugs then wiped down the sink. He took the “Doctors keep you in stitches” mug she offered and fixed his coffee while she flicked a pink envelope back and forth. “You like coffee with your cream, too?” she teased. The mountain of creamer she added was almost as big as the one in his cup.

  She poured the coffee then sipped from her mug. “Get any sleep last night?”

  He wrapped his fingers around the column of Xs on the handle. “Not a whole lot.”

  “Do you need something to help you rest?” She studied him, digging into him like she’d never done before.

  He shook his head and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. What did she see when she looked at him like that? Fear? Guilt? She didn’t have to tell him he looked like hell. “I’m all right.”

  “You know, I got your test results back. They were very boring. Nothing at all wrong with you.”

  He looked at her over the cup rim. He’d forgotten about going along with her request for a blood test.

  “And Lupe was certainly thorough.” Doc took a deep breath. “She literally ran every test.”

  Yeah, the woman had nearly drained his left arm. She might have kept going if not for Dora interrupting.

  “You’ll be glad to hear you aren’t pregnant.”

  He choked, sending a knot of scalding coffee down his throat, making his eyes water. The nurse was a real piece of work. “Tha—that’s good news.”

  Monica cocked her head. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulder. “Now I know something’s wrong.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Any other time you would have said ‘Don’t worry Doc, the baby’s not yours.’”

  His smile faltered. No, he’d never utter those words. Not when he’d been on the receiving end of the statement once before.

  Deep inside he’d known. They’d gone to the States together—his grand plan to save Susana from all the cartel bullshit. Unfortunately, with the U.S. struggling through an economic crisis, things had started out bad and only got worse. When she’d given him the news she was pregnant, he’d been dumbfounded. He’d insisted they go home. That’s when she’d clarified the situation—without a doubt—then left to be with her baby’s father. His fingers grew cold again. He wrapped them around the mug, letting the heat filter through his skin. Doc’s brows drew together over her hazel eyes.

  She couldn’t have known—nobody did. But still, the words hit him right in the chest. Especially because they’d come from her. He didn’t want her concerned. He didn’t want her to ask questions, to find out about that part of his life. How he’d failed everyone. His family. Susana. Himself. Why he wasn’t good enough for her.

  The baby’s not yours…

  “We could change that, you know. The exam room’s open, and the front door’s locked. I bet we wouldn’t notice if the cushion isn’t too comfortable.”

  The concern evaporated, replaced by her deadly stare.

  He smiled behind his mug. Yeah, he’d be all right.

  Chapter Seven

  Monica studied her thumbnail. She scraped away a sliver of polish smeared around the edge of her cuticle. This creation would be Blueberry Burst. A combination of midnight blue layered with Blueberry Surprise and tipped with glitter. The perfect match for tomorrow’s outfit. Too bad the polish had to come off.

  Beauty treatments, hair conditioners, and nail art had never been of any great interest to her. But when a girl was stuck in a tiny apartment over her office and had absolutely nothing to do with her nights, she got creative. Over the past few weeks her nail kit doubled in size as she practiced her new hobby. She’d done well. Even the swirls and layered designs turned out better than expected. Unfortunately, all the glitzy colors came off before bedtime.

  She settled back on the sofa, trying to stay away the rough material. It was clearly made for sitting, not relaxing. The cushions were tolerable thanks to the lavender cashmere throw her sister-in-law, Tessa, gave her last Christmas.

  She’d have to drive out toward the interstate and see if she could get a signal. Weeks had gone by without hearing from Kris and Tessa. She missed the long talks they shared over pizza and beer. Tessa had settled into married life well while Kris, her adopted brother, was still working on a few rough edges. Masquerading as cartel for ten years could really mess with a person. But the assignment had uncovered the man who’d killed his parents, her aunt and uncle, in the crossfire of a cartel shootout.

  As if on cue, the satellite phone she kept hidden beeped from the vicinity of her bedroom. She tossed the throw and shot off the couch, banging her shin on the coffee table. By some miracle, she managed to catch the container with nail polish remover she used to soak her brushes.

  Limping, she reached her backpack and yanked the zipper around the side pocket.

  “Hello.” Her voice sounded both anxious and breathless.

  “I need you.” Kris’s voice came across strong and commanding.

  Her grin faded. They were the same words she’d uttered when she’d been praying for news that Tessa wasn’t dead in the raid that had netted Kris a major drug kingpin back in Monterrey. “Dios mio.”

  Where the heck had Kris sent her? Monica pulled into a cluster of trees surrounding an odd rock formation at the foot of the Sierra Madre. Maneuvering through the country roads had been a long, arduous process. The area was uneven, with narrow, winding sections she couldn’t always see clearly without using the headlights. Her poor little car had bottomed out on several cavernous potholes.

  She peered into the murky darkness wishing for a few seconds of moonlight. Was she alone? Was someone out there watching her? And where exactly was she? If this was Rancho del Sol’s fence line, the property was larger than she thought, and twice as dangerous. After what happened, Guerrero might have guards posted.

  Kris’s contact arranged for someone to lead her to him for medical care. But he hadn’t offered a clue as to whom she was meeting. Only the assurance she’d be safe and her guide could be trusted.

  This task left no room for fear. Kris wouldn’t put her in danger. He wouldn’t have asked her for help if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.

  Minutes crawled by. She dragged her moist palms over her thighs. She’d have to remember to refer to Kris as Angel, his code name. And she’d just gotten used to calling him Kris again.

  Where was this guy? So far, only the crickets serenading her had made their presence known. She was early, but she should be able to see, or at least hear, a vehicle coming. Then again, she didn’t exactly know where to look. If he had four-wheel drive, he could come from anywhere, even the mountain range extending to her left. Unnerved, she peered around, this time in every direction.

  In the distance, a rider approached on horseback. Her heartbeat hammered in her throat. Angel-Angel-Angel. She pulled the backpack over then checked the switch on the dome light. Off, same as when she left the house. No fear. After a few deep, cleansing breaths, she stepped out of the car. While she wouldn’t turn tail and run, the urge to do so mushroomed within her.

  How could Kris do this every day? He’d lived in the heart of danger for years and thrived.

  Rayo’s markings came into view before she could fully make out the rider. So, someone from the ranch. Should she be grateful or worried?

  Our Father who art in heaven…

  Andres dismounted. His clothes, as dark as hers, blended in with the surroundings. Mad laughter bubbled in her chest. Why would a man insist on wearing a hat if the sun wasn’t shining overhead?

&nbs
p; He reached the fence, pulling Rayo behind him. “What are you doing here?” The low rumble didn’t hide his annoyance.

  She froze. Was this a test? Was he her contact or did they meet by coincidence? What would bring him out at this hour?

  “Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into?” He rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck. Rayo sidestepped, flattening his ears.

  “Yes.” She straightened her spine, answering with more bravado than she felt. “I’m aware of the potential danger.”

  “Keep your voice down.” He cursed under his breath. The truth of his question slapped her in the face. Did she know what she was doing? And with whom? According to Kris’s contact, the man who would guide her could be trusted. So who was he really working for? And what would happen once he took her to the patient?

  Rayo pawed at the ground, anxious to get going.

  “All I know is someone needs medical attention. I’m it. Regardless of what side of the law the patient is on.”

  His breath whooshed out, and he shook his head. “So you didn’t know who you were coming to meet, either?” She shook her head. “How the hell—?” He raked a hand over his beard. “All right.” His shoulders settled, and he cleared his expression. “Let’s just get you up so we can go.”

  The backpack slid down to her elbow. She braced herself, letting the momentum swing her arm, bringing the bag high enough over the fence for him to pluck out of her hands. Flipping the strap over his shoulder, he stepped back, waiting for her to come over. She climbed the rustic rail fence like a ladder, swinging her leg over the top with the enthusiasm of a ten-year-old. Her hips swiveled, and a light breeze licked at a bare strip along the base of her spine. Strong hands caught her waist and helped her climb down. Her boots hit solid ground, but his hands lingered along her hips. She turned and tilted her head back, farther than usual, to find his darkened features. “Damn, Doc, where’s the rest of you?”

  She sent him a thin-lipped glare while tucking in the back of her shirt. “I couldn’t exactly wear heels to traipse around the brush, now could I?”