Her fingers hurt as she gripped the steering wheel. She had to be crazy to go along with him. "Okay, as long as one of your calls to your contacts can be to find out why a junior clerk like Martin has come here."
Tay shot her a sharp look. "How do you know he's a junior clerk?"
"Jeff called me back." She gave Tay a smug smile of her own, unable to stop the feeling. "He did some digging for me. Perhaps you've seen Martin during one of your meetings with the CIA?"
Tay's expression darkened, and he flushed slightly red and his soft, normally gentle eyes turned cool and hard. "I haven't been to Washington."
Dawna held her tongue. The tension in the car was thick enough without her adding to it. Was that a lie to keep her from asking too many questions? Or was it the truth? Was Tay even capable of telling her the full truth?
"What else did your friend, Jeff, say?"
Was there a slight emphasis on Jeff's name, or did she imagine it? Dawna cleared her throat. "Martin is a Co-Op student, smart academically, but with no common sense. He speaks Spanish and is interested in history."
"And has three earrings in one ear. I knew he spoke Spanish, because he let out a stream of obscenities at some driver who cut us off."
"Maybe one of your contacts can give us some clue to why he would try to kidnap you."
He lifted his eyebrows at her own slight emphasis. "Kidnap? That rookie wanted to kill me! And he's as wiry as a featherweight boxer. But as for why?" He shook his head, pressing his mouth into a hard line. "I don't know."
Soon after, Dawna reached her apartment. She backed the big car into the visitor's spot and shut off the engine. Then she turned to Tay. "Well, it's time to find out everything you can about Martin, because if you were on some case, you obviously have someone with a grudge against you." She stared hard at Tay. "Don't give me that innocent look, Tay. I'm not stupid. Even if the embassy has nothing to do with Martin, it's getting in the way of my investigation and that makes it my business. I want to find out who set that explosive and why. And I want to find out who poisoned the ambassador and why. You can help me if you like, but if Martin has nothing to do with this, get rid of him before you help me."
With both hands, she thrust the heavy door open and climbed out. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Tay watched her disappear up the open stairwell, another curse lingering on his tongue. He should have realized that Dawna would guess about his involvement with the CIA. All the facts were pointing to it, and Dawna wasn't stupid.
She'd been top of her class three years ago, driven by a desire to be the best and get the best embassy posting. One slip, one evening, and it all dissolved away.
That slip had made him so furious at the system, he'd quit.
Like he'd always done, he'd grabbed the first chance to run.
Pain stabbed behind his eyes and braced himself for another onslaught of his mother's hard words.
This time, his mother was silent. His eyes shut, Tay drew in deep, even breaths. The headache eased.
Dawna returned a few minutes later. Watching her trot down the staircase, he knew she deserved the truth about his involvement with the CIA.
One man was dead here and another was in the hospital. The very security of the embassy was at risk, and Dawna was the one they'd hang if anything worse happened. She deserved to know.
Yes, he'd tell her, but not right now. He needed to sort out exactly what he could say. And there had to be total assurance that whatever Martin was into, had absolutely nothing to do with the embassy. He didn't have that assurance, not yet, anyway.
Dawna pulled open the driver door and climbed in, chucking a small bag into the back seat as she moved.
"Let's drop this monster off at the embassy, first. Then we'll grab a taxi to your hotel. I'd rather leave my car at the embassy."
Tay nodded, wishing briefly that no one at the embassy knew where they were going. But he crushed that selfish desire immediately.
Forty-five minutes later, Tay unlocked the door to his hotel suite. Dawna walked in first, glancing around with one eyebrow lifted. "Nice, but I don't remember reserving a suite for you."
"They upgraded it when I checked in. Some of the rooms are being renovated."
Dawna nodded. "This hotel saw its share of violence over the years." She nodded to several small patches on the wall opposite the window. "Bullet holes?"
He looked at the wall. "I noticed them. I keep the drapes closed."
She lingered by the entrance to the bedroom. "I'm going to hit the shower." She started to head inside. "I suggest you can make your clandestine phone calls now."
"Dawna?"
She turned, her hands clutching the small bag in front of her. He swallowed, wondering if she had the same feeling that headed into an all-nighter. Even the word created images he didn't need to envision right now. "I want to tell you about my involvement with the CIA, but I can't. Not yet, at least. You're a cop, you understand. You're not even supposed to know this much."
He held his breath, waiting for her to say something, do something, even offer him that same betrayed look she'd thrown at him that day in the interrogation room, through the two-way mirror.
Nothing happened. She blinked once. "You better be one hundred percent sure that your involvement with the CIA and Martin doesn't have anything to do with my embassy, Tay because it's too important to have even the tiniest bit of doubt."
She walked into the bedroom and shut the door.
Tay didn't have that assurance. At least not yet.
Chapter Fifteen
When Dawna returned to the small sitting room, she found Tay typing fast and furiously on his laptop. Wordlessly, she opened hers and set it opposite Tay's. He barely glanced at her, his attention so riveted on his task.
A few minutes later, a quiet knock pulled them both from their tasks.
Tay glanced over his shoulder at the door, before standing. He let in a waiter, tipped him and stood staring at the trolley, as if he'd forgotten about it. "I took the liberty of ordering. One can't work on an empty stomach. All that old man up in that village had to drink was the weirdest coffee in the world. Sweet and milky." He pulled a face.
"Dulce de leche. It's not coffee at all, unless you add some and it's usually a dessert sauce." The scent of fresh coffee and sweet, smoky meats lured her closer and she peeked under some of the silver plate covers. Eggs, scrambled with queso and jambon.
Wow. The rare times she ate breakfast, it was usually a boiled egg and some rye bread with Cheez Whiz. And never this late in the morning.
Tay had ordered bread, too, and some rich, buttery layered pastries she'd learned were called alfajores. And a pair of salteñas, too, their golden brown crusts glistening. Her mouth watered. It had been a long time since she had such a decadent brunch. "Wow. You really went all out. You must be really hungry."
"I figured you would be. As long as there's some basic coffee, I don't care."
She ripped off a piece of the pastry to test it. "Didn't that old guy offer you any coca tea?"
"He offered the leaves for me to chew, but under the circumstances, I declined them." Tay met her gaze, a moment before letting his own drop to her outfit.
She should have taken more time picking her clothes. Instead, she'd grabbed the first clean thing she'd found in her closet, another plain pantsuit in a dark ivory color. Its V neck dipped a bit low for her liking, and she now wished for a pin to keep it from slipping open.
Self-conscious suddenly, she threw back her damp hair. The hair dryer attached to the wall beside the vanity didn't blow much hot air. She should have brought a scrunchie or something, but again, she'd forgotten.
Good grief, she was never this disorganized.
"Help yourself to food," Tay said, rising. "I'm going to grab a quick shower first." He stopped at the bedroom door. "I called Mr. Taylor and he's sent me Ramos' full file, all scanned. We need the cousin's name and any info on him. Oh, and I called the hospital. The ambassador's do
ing much better. They expect to release him tomorrow."
She gave him a small nod, then a frown. "So you haven't called your contact yet?"
"I couldn't get through. I'll try later." He called out as he disappeared into the bedroom. "I also left a message with a guy I know in Ottawa."
Dawna helped herself to coffee, eggs and bread, with only a small portion of the meat. She was never sure what kind of animal it came from. Halfway through eating, she peered at Tay's laptop screen. Internet connections were slow and erratic here in a city where many people just strung their own telephone lines, tapping into other's services and generally creating a confusing web not only above the street but within the system, too.
When she was done eating, she scrawled out the cousin's name. Manuel Chayo. Absently, she shook her head. It didn't ring a bell.
The shower stopped and Dawna found herself staring at the closed bedroom door. Three weeks ago, she would never have envisioned herself anywhere near Tay, let alone in his hotel suite. But three weeks ago, she was still changing combinations, checking routine orders, arranging for Dennis Legace to visit some dignitary all in the name of good international relations.
Three weeks ago, she still felt bitterness toward Tay.
The bitterness felt less acrid today. After seeing him cringing in the car, leaping out of his skin when she touched him, she'd found herself wanting to reach out and hold him. He seemed...vulnerable.
Tay returned to the sitting room. She turned away from him, focusing hard on the screen in front of her. Tay's long, muscular length was attractive enough without just having stepped out of the shower. He hadn't bothered with the weak dryer in the bathroom, and towel-dried tendrils of hair curled and licked at his forehead. Even his bruised cheek looked less harsh.
Shoving away her half-finished plate of eggs, Dawna cleared her throat and handed Tay the paper she'd just written on. "Here's the guy's name. Manuel Chayo. I googled the address Ramos wrote down. It's an office building in Ottawa." She paused. "Before I came, Mr. Taylor did much of this work, and I know he would have checked Chayo's address. I wonder what's going on."
He walked up close to her and took the paper. "We should call him. Food any good?"
"Yes. You should eat something before it gets cold." She began to write again. She couldn't look at him. Something vulnerable, human, touching lingered within him. She didn't want to be swayed again by anything of his, and that sudden vulnerability plucked at her heartstrings.
She scrawled out some more information on Ramos, his hometown, his schooling. Perhaps that could help them locate Chayo.
"I'll eat in a bit." Tay walked away, toward the phone by the couch and hastily dialed a number. "As soon as I call a friend of mine. I'd like him to run Chayo's name through the system."
She returned to the website's home page and typed 'Chayo' in the search engine. The search would take a few minutes, and she idly listened to Tay speaking behind her. Sitting on the couch, he asked for a guy named Andy Bonner. The cushions had protested his weight.
In her mind, she could picture what he looked like, leaning back, throwing one leg over the other knee.
She knew because three years ago, with a drink in one hand and the other resting casually over the back of the couch at the Mess, he'd done the same thing. He'd laughed at someone's joke and then turned to her as she stood at the bar accepting a drink of her own.
Their gazes and locked, and the communication of attraction was instant and unstoppable. Inevitable.
The screen in front of her changed, snapping her out of the insane reverie. No matches found. She sagged.
Behind her, Tay hung up and stood. "He'll call me back."
She turned around. "While you eat, I'll call the policia to see if they have located Cabanelos' wife."
She walked briskly past him, not wanting any part of her body to betray the memory still fresh in her mind.
With her broken Spanish, she asked for the constable who had attended the autopsy. Instead, she got the same translator as before. Listening and nodding, she took down the occasional notes. Finally, disheartened and frustrated, she hung up.
"I got the translator again," she said when Tay faced her. "Cabanelos wasn't married. There was no record at the courthouse, nor at any church in the city. The translator explained that it's the law here to be married by a civil official before the church wedding and Cabanelos hadn't even requested an appointment to meet with them. He's never been married."
Tay put down the coffee cup he was holding. "Feels like we're back to square one. So what was he muttering as he was dying?"
"It was something about his wife. I recognized the word espouse. I don't think the priest would lie, do you?"
"I wouldn't think he'd lie. Maybe Cabanelos was engaged?"
Dawna stared down at her hasty notes. "Cabanelos was at least forty. It would seem to me that a man his age wouldn't wait out a long engagement. Plus, the constable interviewed several of his neighbors. One thought there might have been a woman in Cabanelos' life. He'd even heard her speaking in Spanish one night. But none of the neighbors know of any relative who could claim his body, either."
They both sat facing each other, deep in thought. When she couldn't think straight any more, Dawna stood. She grabbed a pastry from the trolley and began to pace.
"Sit down. You're tiring to watch."
Biting into the pastry, she stalked past Tay. "I'm thinking."
"No, you're not. You're agitated and restless. I know. I am, too, but let's focus." He paused. "Cabanelos fires on us, and then is murdered."
"We don't have proof he was murdered. He drank a tea that is popular among the Aymara. He could have been committing suicide for all we know." She continued to pace.
"True, and calling to offer us information does go along with that, but, he seemed worried after he collapsed. Then on his deathbed, he called for a wife who doesn't exist?" His voice rose. "Around the same time, one of the security staff, who would have had access to your desk where the same tea was found, disappears. He's also a local who would have knowledge of this tea."
"But there's no motive. Ramos passed all the security checks. He's been a model employee. Though, I'm sure I didn't buy that tea. I drink coca tea, occasionally, but mostly the stuff the embassy has is sent down here from home."
Tay rolled his eyes and grabbed his own pastry. "You're very good at throwing a wrench into the works, aren't you?"
She smiled. "I'm good at my job, you said."
"I meant it." Tay returned the smile.
They fell silent and Dawna turned her head. She couldn't look at him anymore. His limpid, hazel eyes captivated her and she didn't want the distraction. It would lead her to wonder how soft the tiny hairs were that peeked out of the open neck of his crisp shirt. Or to recall how throaty his laugh was when he became aroused.
She pushed away such wasteful thoughts. "We also have Martin." She dared a look at him, trying to keep it sharp. "And don't tell me he has nothing to do with this investigation. We have no evidence, yet, either way. The guy can't possibly be working as a field operative. He's too young. Listen, Ramos was Bolivian. Martin is interested in South American history. You can't tell me his arrival here is a coincidence. Or that he's researching some dissertation. He wouldn't be following us around. He'd be in museums and public buildings."
Tay watched her, saying nothing. Finally, he stood to refill his coffee cup. "I do have a few doubts about Martin's appearance, but he's just a kid, really."
"He nearly killed you." She paused, trying to sort out ideas as they danced together in her mind. "And you say he looked familiar. Are you sure you've never seen him before? The son of an operative you've worked with? Someone who didn't like the way you worked, maybe?"
"Someone I may have stepped on to get ahead?" His gaze darkened.
A chill rippled through her, followed immediately by a rush of blood to her face. She glared back at him. His words hit so close to home, they stung hard and fast and
her reaction was too immediate to stop. "Yeah, Tay, someone you stepped on."
Standing, he slowly set the cup down on the trolley. His mouth a thin line, he walked over to her. He grabbed her wrist, took the half-eaten pastry from her, and firmly led her to the couch, pushing her to sit down while he towered over her.
"There's a lot of bad blood between us, Dawna, and nothing I say will change that. And you want to know something else? I had and still have no control over it. But I never stepped on anyone to get ahead in my career. I've worked long, hard hours to be the best I can be. And do the best I can with the responsibilities I've been given."
Flying to her feet, she glared up at him. "Don't talk about responsibilities. You had a responsibility to me the day after the course party. But you stayed quiet to preserve your job."
Her jaw tightened, her stomach clenched. Why couldn't she get past this? What would it take for her to just forgive and forget? She didn't know, and hated how it made her feel. "I don't care that you only wanted a one night stand. That's all I wanted with you. But to not be man enough to admit it and allowing me take all the blame, just to preserve your precious career-"
Tay grabbed her. At the same moment, he cringed, his eyes shut tight as his fingers dug deep into her upper arms. Panic flared inside Dawna as he shook his head violently.
She stared at him, wide-eyed. Was he having a seizure? What the hell was wrong?
His eyes flared open, but they didn't connect with hers. Just as she began to speak, he gritted out, "No! Stop talking to me!"
Chapter Sixteen
"Well, you've managed to preserve your precious job, haven't you, Nathan? It didn't cost you too much, either. Just your wife and son."
Tay went rigid. This time his mother's voice was loud, harsh, and suddenly, in his mind's eye, he could see her through the crack of the open closet door in his parents' bedroom. She was much younger. Her hair, though messy, was still swept up in that overblown hairdo she'd favored. Her clothes were reminiscent of the early seventies. She stood on a green carpet in her bedroom.
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