Maddy rubbed his arm encouragingly. "I'm sure there's someone." She turned to the FBI investigator. "How long is it going to take to arrest my uncle?" she queried.
He shrugged. "Might not take so long. Could be just a matter of days, if the bodyguard cops a plea to save his own hide."
"Where do I stay in the meantime? Here?" She cast a glum look around the tasteful lobby.
Her father roused from his thoughts to pat his pockets. "Well, I thought about that, actually," he admitted, pulling a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket. "It occurred to me that Sam has a few more days' leave, and you don't want to spend more time than necessary flying from one continent to the other, so perhaps you two would like to take a vacation."
Sam blinked at the unexpected offer. He'd told Lyle Scott he was on leave when he'd shared his revelation about Elliot Koch.
"A vacation?" Maddy repeated, saying the world like it was something alien and reprehensible.
"Honey, you need it." Her father held her gaze with a benign but firm look. "You've given everything you have to helping other people. When do you ever take the time to pamper yourself?"
"I do that every time I visit you in McLean," she protested. "Vacations are boring."
"Not this one," her father insisted, handing her the printout. "You're going to love Curacao," he avowed. "I've booked you at an all-inclusive resort on the beach. There's horseback riding, golf, a spa, tennis—all the recreation you can imagine. And best of all, it's right next to a forward operating base for the U.S. military. Sam can fly out of there and back to Virginia Beach with just his military ID."
Maddy looked visibly torn. She looked to Sam for his opinion. "What do you think?" she asked.
He had trouble finding his tongue. A vacation with Maddy at an all-inclusive resort in Curacao, a Netherland's owned island just off the cost of Venezuela, sounded like paradise. On the other hand, her father had arranged the whole thing, which made Sam feel manipulated. Taking Maddy on an island vacation was something Sam would have had to scrounge to afford. He could probably do it at least once, but only for a super special occasion. Like a honeymoon—the thought popped into his head. It didn't hold nearly the same appeal when her father had arranged all the details. Then again, Sam would be earning his keep, wouldn't he, acting as Maddy's bodyguard?
A kernel of resentment heated and popped inside of him. "And what happens when my leave runs out?" he demanded. "I just fly off and leave Maddy by herself?"
"I'll take your place in Curacao when that happens. Or perhaps Paul will have been arrested by then," Lyle Scott replied.
"And then I can go back to Paraguay to finish my work," Maddy said hopefully. She bit her lower lip, her gaze sliding back to Sam. "What do you think?"
A hint of anticipation sparkled in her lovely eyes. He was helpless against it. "Why not?" he answered, revealing just a trace of bitterness. But in the back of his mind he was thinking, If this is how it's going to be with her father controlling our lives, we're never going to make it.
He reminded himself what a remarkable woman Maddy was, how great sex was between them, how well their world views meshed. Any normal man would be thrilled to have a girlfriend whose rich father loved to spoil her. Bronco and Bullfrog would be sick with envy when they heard where Sam had spent the majority of his leave time. "Sounds like fun," he forced himself to add. "When do we leave?"
Chapter 17
From the vantage of a horse's back, Maddy took in the view with a gasp of wonder. The trail had led them to the height of a promontory overlooking the Southern Caribbean Ocean.
"Oh, Sam," she marveled, slowing her mare so that his horse could get abreast of hers. Impossible shades of blue—sapphire, then tourmaline, then aqua—lightened by degrees as it approached the horseshoe beach below them. This would be the highlight of their horseback riding tour, a gallop in the surf. She held out a hand so they could share this moment. "Isn't it breathtaking?"
The gentleness of the hand clasping hers completed her happiness. They'd spent three unforgettable days so far exploring the island—visiting the sea aquarium, spelunking in the Hato caves, swimming with dolphins at the Dolphin Academy. Their two evenings here brought romantic strolls, dishes to die for, and hours in bed getting to know exactly what pleased each other.
"It's like a dream," Sam agreed, but his gaze wasn't on the view. She could see him out of the corner of her eye watching her response to the vista.
Tearing her gaze from the water, she took in his tanned visage with an unmistakable melting of her heart. "I love you," she stated, prompting a look of startled pleasure. There had been no premeditation on her part, simply a certainty that demanded articulation and conveyed the enormity of her joy in this moment.
A flicker of uncertainty lowered the flames in Sam's eyes as they searched her face. "You love me or you love this vacation?" he inquired.
"Sam!" Not only had he ripped the rug out from under her declaration, but he'd even doubted the veracity of her words. "How can you ask that? I wouldn't say I love you if I didn't mean it. Of course this vacation is fabulous." She threw out an arm to encompass their playground. "I've had the time of my life here. But that wouldn't be the case with any other person. It's you who have made this experience so special. I'm not imagining things."
He hung his head for a moment, pretending to adjust the reins that had fallen over the pommel of his saddle. If not for the smile playing at the edges of his lips, she might have grown nervous that he didn't return the sentiment. At last, his curly lashes swept upward and he met her gaze directly. A hint of ruddy color stood out on his cheekbones. And then he lunged in the saddle, catching her head in his hand to press a brief but blistering kiss on her lips.
"I love you, too," he said, so softly that his words seemed to blend with the crash of the surf below them.
Pleasure flowed through Maddy's veins, prompting that same thready racing of her heart that unnerved her for its unexpectedness. There wasn't any reason for her heart to act like it was struggling to pump blood through her body. She automatically pressed her palm to her breastbone, taking deep breaths to strengthen the fast, feeble beats.
Sam hadn't noticed. He'd pointed down the beach where their guide, a tanned, shirtless youth, galloped through the mild surf below them, kicking up water in his wake. They'd turned out to be the only two guests on this tour, and after their guide discovered they were both competent riders, he'd kept his distance, giving them plenty of privacy.
"You ready for this?" Sam gestured with a grin for her to lead the way.
Maddy's pulse had yet to even out. "You first," she invited, reluctant to ruin this moment by complaining that her heart was acting up again. The last time she'd mentioned it, at the Dolphin Academy, Sam had made her get out of the water in front of everyone. He'd gotten the medics to take her blood pressure which had been a little low, but nothing life-threatening. In another few seconds the odd episode would be over, anyway. It only ever lasted a few minutes at a time.
Sam hesitated, searching her expression with eyes that missed nothing. "It's not that steep," he promised, mistaking the reason for her hesitancy. The trail winding down to the beach looked more precarious than anything they'd traversed so far.
Maddy could have pointed out that she'd taken horseback riding lessons from the age of five, but Sam would probably think her an elitist snob. "I'd rather you went first," she said with a tremulous smile.
Eager to reassure her—she knew he would be—he guided his horse down the trail ahead of her. Maddy fixed her gaze on the twitching chestnut tail in front of her as her mare automatically followed his gelding. To her relief, her heart resumed its normal steady beat, but then a peculiar numbness settled on her tongue, making it feel swollen and immobile. The odd sensation had her wondering if she'd drunk enough water. She reached into the pack hanging off the side of the saddle, grateful to her mare for negotiating the winding decline without direction.
As Maddy untwisted the cap on h
er water bottle, her fingers began to tingle. Razor-like pain shot up her fingers into her wrists. Growing increasingly concerned, she tossed back a quick sip only to sputter and cough when swallowing proved difficult. The bottle slipped suddenly out of her hand, tumbling into a patch of sea grass.
"Sam, wait!" she called, but her tongue could barely form the words, and her voice failed to carry over the rush of the waves on the sand.
Sam glanced back with a grin of anticipation as he reached the open beach. Without noticing her stricken expression, he jabbed his heels into his horse's flanks and spurred it into a gallop. Maddy's mare took her cue from the gelding and lurched into a trot, catching Maddy off guard. She squeezed her knees to keep her seat. She could feel the wind in her hair, the roll of the saddle beneath her bottom, but that was all she could feel as numbness stole over her in an implacable tide.
What's wrong with me? her mind cried.
The mare headed straight for the water, where the sloping beach threatened to upset Maddy's balance. She felt herself teetering in the saddle and fought to right herself, but her arms proved uncooperative and gravity won.
She listed toward the water, hoping to jump clear of her horse in lieu of falling. She managed to swing her right leg over the horse's rump. She started for the water feet first, but then her left foot tangled in the stirrup, upending her even as it kept her attached to her horse.
Arms flailing, she failed to catch hold of the saddlebag before her head and shoulders plunged into warm salt water.
* * *
If Sam had wings, he was certain he'd be airborne. Even without them, he felt weightless, kept aloft by the powerful beast vaulting him repeatedly into the air. She loves me!
He hadn't realized how profoundly Maddy's confession would affect him. Plenty of women had said those words to him in the past. But none of them held a candle to Madison Scott. Despite his initial cynicism, he'd felt her tenderness; he'd seen the passion and wonder that filled her eyes when their heated bodies came blissfully together. They'd connected on every level—mentally, emotionally, and physically. She did love him. And in defiance to the voice whispering in his head that their backgrounds were too dissimilar to make a relationship last, he'd said he loved her, too.
Because he did—probably from the moment he'd clapped eyes on her. He'd tried to fight it, not wanting to face his hatred and disgust for the wealthy. He'd even tried telling himself these feelings were an illusion conjured by her billionaire father in some wily plan to put a Navy SEAL in his back pocket by marrying him off to his daughter.
But it wasn't the setting that sealed their commitment to each other. It was the knowledge that in spite of their hugely different socio-economic backgrounds, they were meant for each other. Always had been.
With peaceful resolve, Sam slowed his mount so that Maddy could catch up with him. He could hear the thunder of her mare's approach, but she was slowing down, not speeding up. As he twisted in the saddle to look back, their guide gave a shout and wheeled his horse around. Sam's soaring heart plunged at the sight of Maddy hanging by one stirrup, her upper body being dragged from the surf onto the sand by a horse that hobbled uncertainly toward them.
"Maddy!" With a strangled cry, Sam wheeled about, upsetting his docile mount with the unexpected command. For an agonizing moment, the horse resisted but as the guide went tearing past him, it shot forward, nearly unseating Sam who clung to his seat.
Closing the short distance between them and Maddy, both men vaulted off their horses at the same time. Sam went to free Maddy's ankle from the tangled stirrup while the guide paused to calm the shaken mare. Once freed, the lower half of Maddy's body fell lifelessly onto the sand.
"Maddy!" Sam dropped to his knees and gave her a shake.
She stared back at him, as still as a corpse.
"Maddy, can you breathe?" he asked, falling back on his training to assess the seriousness of the situation. When she didn't answer, he put an ear to her mouth, relieved beyond words to hear a wheezing in her throat. "She's breathing. She must have had the air knocked out of her," he decided, glancing at the guide for corroboration. The kid just looked back at him. Obviously, nothing like this had ever happened on a guided tour before.
"You're going to be okay," Sam said, catching Maddy's cold face in his hands. He tilted her head back, opening her airway. The way she stared at him made his skin shrink. Her hair was wet. Maybe the horse had dragged her through the water and she'd inhaled some. But he was afraid to roll her onto her side lest she'd suffered a spine injury. "Are you just stunned?" he asked, searching her huge frightened eyes for clues. "Blink your eyes if you're just stunned."
She stared at him, not blinking.
Christ. "Maddy, blink your eyes if something's really wrong." It sounded like someone else was talking.
She gave a slow, deliberate blink and every possibility in the world occurred to him at once, from a broken back to an epileptic seizure. He glanced helplessly up at the tour guide who was fetching something from his horse. "We have to get her to a hospital, now!" he shouted.
The kid nodded and showed him the cell phone he'd pulled from his pack. "I'll call the ranch," he said in Spanish—thankfully not in Dutch which many of the white islanders spoke. "They'll bring an ATV to pick us up."
"Okay." Sam looked back at Maddy whose stare hadn't wavered. "Querida, what's wrong?" he demanded, embarrassed to hear his voice crack. He'd kept a level head under far worse conditions. At least there wasn't any blood pouring out of her, no gaping bullet wounds, no limbs ripped off her body. He'd seen all that and never been as scared as he was now.
Her tongue moved slightly as if she was trying to talk, but the roar and retreat of the waves and the cry of a seabird were the only answers he got.
* * *
Maddy roused by degrees. With her heavy eyelids still shut, she listened to the rhythmic beat of a heart monitor, the low-pitched murmur of many voices. Someone not too far away from her seemed to be moaning in pain. A thin blanket covered her chilled limbs, and she could tell that she was naked. The tangy-sweet smell of betadine and the pinching sensation on the top of her right hand had her prying her eyelids open with alarm.
She lay in a cubicle of sorts, surrounded on all sides by sheer curtains.
"Sam?" she called. Footsteps drew closer and one of the curtains slid open. A bright-eyed nurse marched over to smile down at her.
"You're awake and talking," she exclaimed, as if the two actions together were unheard of. "Doctor Troost," she called over her shoulder. "Miss Scott's alert."
A lean, balding doctor joined the nurse by her bed and studied her through his spectacles. "How are you feeling?" he asked with a faint Dutch accent.
Maddy queried her body. "Fine," she decided. "My ankle hurts a little."
"It's a sprain, nothing serious. We were more concerned with your paralysis and stabilizing your vitals." He flicked a glanced at the heart monitor. Took a penlight from his pocket and shone it in her eyes. "Make a fist for me?" he requested.
Maddy did as he requested, using the hand that wasn't attached to the IV tube. "What happened to me?" she asked. "Where's Sam?"
The doctor looked up. "Your boyfriend's in the waiting room. Only family are permitted in the ER. After we transfer you to a regular room, he may join you." His grave, puzzled expression kept her from drawing a full breath as she waited for him to answer her first question. "It appears that you were poisoned, Miss Scott," he added, not mincing his words.
"Poisoned?" Maddy's thoughts went straight to the glass of wine her uncle had insisted she drink. Her instincts had been right.
"By a plant that grows in the Amazon—cojungali. When consumed, chemicals in cojungali block the neurotransmitter acetylcholine, required by your nerve cells if you're to control the actions of your muscles. You're extremely fortunate that I am familiar with this poison from time I spent with the Amazon Conservation Team."
Interest licked through her—she would love to ask him more a
bout his experience.
"And even luckier for you, I also know the antidote, an enzyme that destroys the protein blocking the neurotransmitter. In a North American hospital, your symptoms would have been treated, but the poison would have continued to attack your nervous system, eventually killing you."
The enormity of the doctor's words tore through Maddy's consciousness like the shockwaves of an earthquake. "I'd be dead right now," she reiterated, thinking of how both Sam and her father would have reacted to her unexpected death. It was never more apparent that her mother's spirit had saved her again, connecting her with the one doctor who recognized her symptoms and suspected the true cause. Tears of profound gratitude rushed into Maddy's eyes.
"I'm required by law to inform the police," Dr. Troost added, sobering her instantly.
She huffed out a bitter laugh. "The FBI's already investigating the man who most likely did this," she admitted. In the next few minutes, she sketched for the doctor an embarrassing account of her family drama.
A phone conversation with her father the day before had informed her and Sam that Paul Van Slyke had disappeared from Paraguay by the time Lyle Scott showed up at his mansion in Mariscal Estigarribia. Interpol had pounced on him when he'd arrived at customs in Switzerland, but without corroborating proof of any wrongdoing, no confession on Paul's part, and Elliot Koch nowhere to be found, the FBI had instructed Interpol to let him go. By the time Maddy finished her explanation, Dr. Troost's eyebrows had risen to where his hairline ought to have been.
"I see," he said faintly. "You will still have to explain all this to the police when they come visit you."
Whatever, Maddy thought. "Can I see Sam?" she pleaded.
"As soon as you are moved to a private room. I'll clear you for transfer shortly," he promised. Picking up a clipboard from the end of her bed, he checked his way through it, paused and looked up. "Is there any chance you could be pregnant, Miss Scott?"
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