Her lids were drooping slightly when dinner ended, and she required her new husband’s assistance as they rose to leave. Joshua offered Father Peña another generous “donation” for the less than prosperous parish, then escorted his wife out to the car.
She sank down in the passenger seat and closed her eyes, pressing the back of her head against the headrest. The effects of the wine and succently broiled shrimp and red snapper fish concoctions, with the accompanying salsa, lingered on her tongue. She had eaten sparingly, yet she felt unusually full.
Joshua glanced over at her composed features as he maneuvered the rental car back to their bungalow at the Victoria. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Kirkland?”
Vanessa smiled without opening her eyes. “Slightly intoxicated, Mr. Kirkland.”
“On two glasses of wine?”
She nodded. “I don’t know how you and Father Peña finished that bottle.”
“It was easy because we’re men,” he teased with a smile.
Her eyes opened, and she glared at him. “Oh, no, you didn’t go there, Joshua Kirkland. Because you’re a male you think that makes you a better drinker?”
His smile vanished. “I was only teasing you, Vanessa. I’ve known a few women who could drink a lot of men under the table.”
“Known how?”
Slowing the car, he gave her a penetrating look. “Jealous?”
Shrugging a bare, slender shoulder, Vanessa said, “Could be.”
“I’ll never give you the opportunity to feel jealous of another woman. I told you before that I’d always be faithful to you.”
Her eyes crinkled with a smile. “Don’t be so serious, Joshua. I was teasing you. Do you think I would’ve married you if I suspected that you wouldn’t be faithful to me?”
“I know you wouldn’t have,” he replied confidently.
He steered the car along the path leading to the bungalow and shut off the ignition. Turning to his right, he stared at the woman he’d married. His world was perfect, balanced for the first time in his life. It had taken him thirty-eight years to find a woman he could love unconditionally, and eight days after their meeting he had claimed her as his wife.
Vanessa returned his direct stare, visually admiring the man she had married. His lips were full, firm, but did not appear feminine; his hands were slender, yet possessed uncanny strength; his eyes—pale, cold—burned with electric green sparks that hypnotized and made her his willing prisoner. And, like a transfixed rabbit unable to free itself from the spell of a larger predator, she sat waiting, waiting to experience why she had been born female.
Joshua reached out and traced the underside of her delicate jaw with his fingertips before he pressed his mouth to her parted lips. Inhaling her familiar, feminine scent, he breathed into her mouth, saying, “Let’s go inside.”
Even though she and Joshua had made love before, Vanessa knew this night, this time, would be different. Their roles had changed from lovers to husband and wife. They had taken a vow to love each other for all time.
Standing in the middle of the dressing room, she stared up at her husband as he slowly and deftly removed his jacket and shirt. He placed the jeweled cuff links and his gold watch on a small round table beside a straightback chair.
Vanessa noticed for the first time that his chest was several shades lighter than his face, indicating that Joshua probably spent an inordinate amount of time in the sun. His shoes, socks, trousers, and briefs followed, leaving him standing before her naked—and very male, as the evidence of his desire for her was blatantly displayed.
He took a step forward and removed the wreath of orange blossoms from her hair, then unpinned the expertly coiffed strands until they floated down around her long neck.
Closing her eyes, Vanessa felt the brush of his fingers and the whisper of fabric as he removed her dress and underwear until she stood before him equally naked and pulsing with desire.
She didn’t have time to catch her breath before he swept her up effortlessly into his arms and walked out of the dressing room and into their bedroom.
Tightening her arms around his neck, she buried her face against his throat, savoring the texture and smell of his skin. Her prior anxiety vanished as the love she held in her heart for the man she had married surfaced, filling her with an inexplicable joy.
Joshua lowered her gently to the bed, his body following as he cradled Vanessa’s face between his hands. He tasted her mouth tentatively, teasing her until her hands moved up and captured his head. His lips left hers to nibble at her earlobe, then returned, leaving her mouth burning with a simmering fire.
Her fingers tightened on his scalp, pulling him closer while she tried slowing down the desire racing headlong down her body. Her rising need was communicated when his mouth became more demanding.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered softly. His tongue slipped inside, awakening a foreign wantonness that scorched the hidden place between her thighs.
“Now, Joshua. Please,” she pleaded without shame.
She opened her large eyes, and he saw the shimmering tears turning them into polished onyx. He didn’t disappoint her or himself as he buried his rigid flesh deep within the softness of her moist, pulsing body.
The pleasure he found in Vanessa’s body was so exquisite that Joshua feared it would be over too quickly. He had planned a long, leisurely session of lovemaking, but having been denied her body for four days had taken its toll on his self-control.
Her quickened breathing resounded in his ear, and the soft, sensual moans coming from her parted lips were his undoing. His own movements quickened as he drove into her again and again, over and over, until reality ceased to exist and he was transported to a place where light and dark merged, heaven greeted him, where his private hell vaporized, leaving in its place a gentle peace that made him want to weep with joy.
He didn’t cry, but Vanessa did. Hiccuping uncontrollably, she whispered, “I love you, I love you, I…”
His mouth covered hers, stopping her litany as he drank again from her honeyed lips. “And I love you, too, my Angel,” he confessed in a deep voice which carried all of the emotion he’d ever felt for a woman.
He shifted slightly, supporting his greater weight on his arms, but did not withdraw from her body. He couldn’t—not now. He wanted to savor the oneness for as long as possible.
Day Eight—He’d married Vanessa, and tomorrow he would meet with Cordero Birmingham and outline the details of Operation MESA and pass along Pablo Mendoza’s name for a complete background investigation.
Chapter 16
Joshua glanced at his watch as he secured the clasp. He had three hours before he met Cordero Birmingham in San Miguel. It was more than one hundred forty kilometers between the two cities, and he estimated that it would take him at least two hours if he stayed on Highway 175.
Slipping his arms into his suit jacket, he patted the inside breast pocket to make certain the small, leather-bound bible was secure. All of the maneuvers for Operation MESA were printed in the text of the bible.
Something caught his attention, and he turned to find Vanessa watching him. He’d left the bed to shave, shower, and dress without waking her. A wealth of raven hair fell over her forehead as she wrapped her slender arms around her waist over an above-the-knee, pistachio green, silk coverup.
“What time will you be back, Joshua?”
He drew in a deep breath. Her gaze was steady, but there was no mistaking the longing in her voice. Was that the way it was going to be—her waiting for him to come back from some secret mission?
He smiled, making his way across the dressing room and closing the distance between them. “I’ll be back for dinner.” Curving an arm around her waist, he pulled her against his chest. “This is to be our last night in Mexico, so we’ll celebrate.”
Her gaze raced frantically over his features, committing them to memory. Vanessa didn’t know why, but she couldn’t smile. She’d planned to spend ten days in Mexico—alone�
��but now she didn’t want to be alone. She wanted Joshua by her side until she returned to a place she was familiar with, and a place she called home.
Rising on tiptoe, she kissed him. “Be careful out there.”
He returned her kiss, his aftershave enveloping her with sensual memories of their wedding night. After they’d made love the first time it seemed as if they were insatiable, and Vanessa would not be surprised if she returned to the States pregnant. They had made love without the benefit of contraception, and it was the most fertile time of the month during her menstrual cycle.
“You be careful,” he countered. “If you want to go into town have the front desk call a taxi. A woman traveling or shopping alone can become a prime target for a clever pickpocket.”
“I’m shopped out,” she said, smiling.
He gave her a look of utter disbelief. “No.”
“Yes.” This time she did laugh. “I’m going to relax here until you come back.”
His hold on her waist tightened as his attitude became more serious. “I meant what I said about walking into town, Vanessa.”
She bit back the words forming on her tongue. She wanted to tell Joshua that she had taken care of herself before she met him and she would continue to do so, but knew it was not the time. Once they were back in the States he would get to know the true Vanessa Blanchard-Kirkland.
“You’d better get going,” she said instead.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he held her head firmly and kissed her mouth. “Love you,” he whispered, then released her and turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving Vanessa staring at the space where he’d been.
“Love you, too,” she whispered to the air.
Joshua made it to San Miguel with time to spare. He drove past La Iglesia de los Santos, parked several streets from the ancient structure, then returned to the church on foot. He stood at the rear of the church until mass ended, then sat down on the last pew after most of the early-morning parishioners filed out.
His gaze swept over the ornate interior. Like most churches in Mexico, it was beautifully decorated.
His gaze shifted to a shirtless young man who walked into the church with a shuffling gait. What had caught his attention immediately were the angry red welts marring the man’s otherwise smooth back.
Joshua moved to help the young man, whose knees threatened to give way, but was thwarted when his throat was caught in a vicious grip which threatened to crush his windpipe.
The young man he’d attempted to assist whirled quickly, and Joshua saw light pouring in from stained-glass windows glinting on the blade of a stiletto before it found its target.
He was caught between the two men as fire spread rapidly across his middle; the flickering candles burning throughout the church dimmed before his eyes in a macabre dance of death.
The two men eased him down onto a bench, propping him up until he leaned against the back of the pew. His head dropped forward as if he were deep in prayer, while his life’s blood pooled at his feet.
At exactly zero nine hundred Cordero Birmingham walked into La Iglesia de los Santos and spied Joshua Kirkland immediately. He slipped onto the pew bench beside him, a frown forming between his topaz blue eyes when he stepped into a dark liquid. Lifting his feet gingerly, he grimaced. It was only when he glanced at Joshua’s pallid face, then down at the widening red stain on the front of what had been a white shirt that he realized that his shoes were resting in a pool of blood. Joshua Kirkland’s blood.
His fingers snaked around Joshua’s throat, feeling for a pulse and finding one. It was weak, but it was there. Pulling Joshua up, he struggled several times, but managed to pick him up. Carrying him, he walked out of the church, yelling at anyone who glanced his way.
“Médico! Médico!”
It was another thirty-six hours before Joshua realized where he was. He was back in the States—and without Vanessa!
Turning his head slowly in the semi-dark room, he knew from the sounds and smells he was in a hospital. He stared at the clear tube taped to the back of his hand, filled with liquids that would nourish his injured body.
A slim figure moved closer to the bed. “Colonel Kirkland?” He turned toward the sound of the feminine voice. “Please don’t try to talk, Sir.”
The woman moved away from the bed, and the stream of light on the polished tiled floor widened with an open door. “He’s awake,” the woman said softly to the two uniformed men standing outside the room. One came to attention immediately and signaled to another seated on a chair at the end of the corridor.
Twenty minutes later Harry Blackwell walked into the room where Colonel Joshua Kirkland lay motionless. He barely noticed the nurse sitting at the bedside who watched the machines monitoring her patient’s respiration and blood pressure.
He’d been briefed on Joshua’s condition and knew it wasn’t encouraging. He had been close to death when he’d arrived back in the States, and even though his prognosis was upgraded, his condition was still critical.
What Harry Blackwell wanted were answers, answers about whether Operation MESA had been compromised. As an associate director of the FBI, Harry had given his full support to the director of the Drug Enforcement Administration, because someone within that agency had leaked classified maneuvers for drug raids throughout Mexico, and continued to.
Harry had officially recruited Colonel Joshua Kirkland from the Pentagon to devise a cryptograph filled with dates, times, and places where United States and Mexican drug enforcement personnel would strike targeted high-level traffickers.
Harry leaned over Joshua, noting the unhealthy pallor of his normally deeply tanned face. “It’s Blackwell, and I’m going to make this quick. We need to know about Operation MESA. When is it going down, and where?”
Joshua swallowed several times to relieve the dryness in his throat. He recognized the voice. “The bible,” he said in a croaking tone.
Joshua opened his eyes and stared up at the dark brown face belonging to the associate director of the FBI. “Did you find the bible?”
“Birmingham said he found a marked-up bible in your jacket. What does it have to do with Operation MESA?”
Joshua’s chest rose and fell heavily with the exertion it took to speak. “Sit down and take notes,” he ordered Blackwell. He waited until Harry pulled out a pad and pen from his jacket pocket. “Deuteronomy, chapter five, verse eight, is Durango, June fifth, at oh eight hundred.” His voice was a raspy whisper. “Judges, chapter five, verse eleven, is Jalisco, June fifth, at eleven hundred. Genesis seven, eighteen, is Guadalajara. Luke six, twenty-one, is Leon. First Corinthians eight, thirteen, is Cuernavaca…”
Harry scribbled quickly, awed as Joshua enumerated every detail he’d set down for Operation MESA. He’d heard rumors regarding the man’s photographic memory, and now that he’d witnessed it firsthand he was astounded by the amount of information Joshua carried in his head. He had listed eighteen cities with corresponding dates and times for raids by a concert of Mexican police and military, and U.S. Drug Enforcement personnel. The raids would stem the flow of illegal drugs from Mexico and ports south, crippling powerful cartels for years to come.
There was another matter he wanted to discuss with Joshua Kirkland. “What happened with Vanessa Blanchard?”
Joshua closed his eyes, tension tightening the lines around his mouth, while the delicate nostrils of his nose flared visibly. “What about her?”
“I’m asking the questions, Colonel Kirkland,” Harry countered harshly, coming to his feet. “You reported that you’d made contact with her.”
He nodded. “I did,” he admitted.
“Where is she?”
Again swallowing to relieve the dryness in his throat, he said, “I left her in Oaxaca.”
Harry replaced the pen and pad in his pocket. “I’ll have her picked up.”
Joshua struggled to sit up, but the nurse moved quickly and eased him back to the mound of pillows cradling his sh
oulders. “I’m sorry, Colonel, but you’re not permitted to get out of bed.”
“Don’t touch her, Blackwell,” Joshua ordered, struggling weakly against the nurse’s grip.
Harry frowned, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Why the hell not?”
“Because she’s my wife.”
The older man whispered a savage expletive, the single word exploding in the small room, then sank back down to the chair he’d just vacated. He would not have expected this scenario from Joshua Kirkland. “Dammit,” he snarled, standing up again. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
Joshua stared at Harry, freezing him where he stood. “No, I don’t,” he said sarcastically. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“I think you know very well, Colonel. The only thing I’ll ask is, is she worth it? Is she worth you being court-martialed?”
There was only the sound of breathing from the three occupants as they stared at one another. The tension in the small room at Walter Reed Medical Center swelled until Joshua broke the silence.
“Yes. She is. She’s worth every day I’ll have to spend in Leavenworth.”
“Fool,” Harry spat out. Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the room. “Guard him,” he ordered the two Marines who stood at attention outside the room.
Vanessa sat in the office of the Chief of the Oaxaca Police Department, praying that someone from his staff had uncovered something about her missing husband. She had extended her vacation a week, waiting for Joshua’s return.
What had begun as annoyance had turned into anger, then fear, when Joshua did not return from his business trip. Her emotions vacillated between episodes of rage and tears. She thought he’d married her and abandoned her in a foreign country, while he flew to another to seduce and marry another unsuspecting woman.
When she lay alone in her bed at night she gave in to a torrent of tears that left her spent and dazed. He lied to me. Liar, liar, liar!
The voices taunted her as she slept, so she sat up nights to avoid them. With the rising of the sun came the realization that she was alone, and that Joshua was never coming back.
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