A Dangerous Engagement

by Candace Irvin

  The message was clear. She didn't need or want his touch.

  Fine with him—until he spotted the lingering distaste pinching her frown as she faced him. The woman honestly believed she was better than him. God help him, that ticked him off. So did that damned hair.

  He stepped forward, closing the distance between them until he was deep into her personal space. So deep, that even with her heels now donned, she was forced to strain her neck to maintain eye contact. He caught his first clear look at her pupils—and that infuriated him even more. He leaned closer, whittling the remaining air between them down to a fraction of an inch. He scraped his voice even lower as his lips found her ear. "You don't follow orders well, lady."

  He smiled as she flinched.

  She recovered quickly. And much, much too coolly. She shifted her head until she was staring directly into his eyes. "True. But I'm not in the military anymore, am I?"

  Wrong thing to say. The taunt ratcheted up his anger. Before she could argue, much less step back, he hooked his fingers into the upswept twist that reminded him too blessed much of the woman's official Navy photograph and the respected, decorated officer she'd once been before she'd thrown it all away for drugs, greed and a warped sense of loyalty. A swift twist of his own and his hand was gone, her black clasp as well. Satisfaction seared into him along with her gasp as her hair tumbled down about her face and past her shoulders. The moment he straightened, he knew it was a mistake—and not because of that thick silk or that insidiously heady fragrance. It was her neck.

  This close, he had a clear shot down past the modestly scooped collar of her dress, all the way to her bra. But it wasn't the dusky swells or even the trailing edge of black lace that had captured his attention. It was the gold necklace—the gold charm—dangling between. A scorpion. The very symbol thugs closest and absolutely loyal to her cousin were known to have tattooed on the back of their right shoulder. And hers carried a damning, telltale ruby dripping from its stinger. The moment the pulse at the base of her neck began to throb, she knew he'd seen it.

  He couldn't have stopped himself if he'd wanted to.

  And he didn't.

  He took his time, savoring the pace of that now screaming pulse as he slid the tip of his index finger beneath the collar of her dress. Until he was scraping the tender flesh between the valley of her breasts below. Only then did he hook that glistening chain and twist it none too gently about his finger as he dragged the trophy forth. He leaned low and returned his lips to her ear, already knowing the answer to the question he was driven to ask.

  "So…who did you have to kill to get this?"

  Chapter 4

  He knew. Or rather, he thought he knew.

  Either way, Tom Wild had had her investigated. And he'd gotten a lot farther than either she or Samantha had gotten with him. But then he'd known about her for a week at least. Anna closed her eyes, for once blessing the man's infuriatingly intimate proximity along with those stupid, noisy fish as she gathered the frayed ends of her nerves and stitched them together. By the time Tom pulled away, she'd anchored them firmly in place. She nudged a smile born more of relief than humor to the fore as she stepped back sharply. Tom was forced to release the necklace Luis had strung about her neck himself three hours before. For exactly the reason this man assumed.

  Manny.

  "Congratulations, Mr. Wild. You've done your homework."

  For a split second, she swore she caught the flash of pure, naked fury in that steel-blue gaze, but then it was gone. Completely masked. She was left wondering if it had been a figment of her imagination. Just like her entire life. Barely twenty-four hours back in Panama, under her cousin's roof, and she was already sick of it. As if on cue, her chest throbbed. The pills in the purse she'd left in the entrance hall whispered. She ignored both. But not that gaze.

  It'd narrowed again. Dangerously. "Well?"

  She allowed her confusion to show. "Well, what?"

  "My homework. As you've said, I did it. Do you plan on grading it?"

  She waited a beat. Then two. "No."

  This time, the fury remained concealed—if it had been there at all—as he stepped forward. Two paces later, he froze. Like her, he must have heard her cousin's approach. Though still out of sight, Luis was nearing the door in his study. A moment later, Luis crossed the threshold, still speaking with one of his political cronies as he stopped just inside the courtyard. To think, she'd been saved by Luis. Again. Fortunately, he wouldn't know about this debt, couldn't add it to the one she'd racked up this morning on Eve's behalf.

  Gracias a Dios.

  But when her cousin's stare met hers, she realized God had failed her. The approval in Luis's grin confirmed it. Her hair. Luis assumed she was already putting his plan into motion; he thought she'd been coming on to Tom. The ex-Army jerk-for-hire compounded the impression deliberately as he stepped forward and tucked the clasp he'd pulled from her hair into her hand. Luis chuckled and excused himself to his caller, covering the end of the phone with his hand. "Anna, this will take a while. Well into our reservations, perhaps longer. Since you two seem to have hit it off, go without me."

  No!

  Fortunately, Tom objected for her. "What about our meeting?"

  Luis's grin flashed wider. "We can reschedule."

  She had the distinct impression Tom wanted to argue. She prayed he'd act on it. He didn't. He simply shrugged. "Fine by me." He turned to her and held out his arm. "Shall we?"

  Once again, she was saved by the bell. Literally.

  All three of them turned toward the entrance as the housekeeper's muffled footsteps closed in on the hacienda's main door. She could feel the curiosity radiating off Tom as they waited for Juanita to greet their unseen caller. It increased as her cousin brought the phone to his ear and informed his crony the delay would take another moment.

  Tom glanced down at her. "Was anyone else supposed to join us for dinner?"

  Not that she was aware of. But then, when did Luis bother to inform her of anything unless it suited him?

  The plastic teeth on the hair clasp bit into her palm as she tightened her hand around it. "I'm not sure."

  Juanita satisfied their curiosity as she entered the courtyard, international courier pouch and signature-release clipboard in hand. She held both up. Luis grinned as he shifted the phone. "Excellent. Anna, sign for it, por favor." Even before Luis slipped his free hand inside his suit, she knew what he was reaching for. She stared in horror as her cousin retrieved his prized fountain pen and tossed it toward her, already resuming his conversation with Rubén as he turned back to his study. Obviously, Luis had assumed she'd catch it.

  She didn't even try.

  She watched in horror as the pen sailed through the air, flinching as it clattered on the gray stones at her feet. Even Juanita knew enough to gasp. By the grace of God, Luis heard neither. He was too immersed in his conversation with Rubén Galindo. She stared at her cousin's back as he disappeared from view, then dropped her gaze to her feet, hoping against hope the pen would do the same. It didn't.

  Now what? She couldn't touch it.

  She dragged her stare to Juanita. From the horror on the poor woman's face, neither could she. From the look on Tom's face, he thought they were both nuts. Worse, the man leaned down and picked up the pen. He held it out. She just stood there.

  He stepped closer. She stepped back.

  Juanita jumped.

  His brow shot up. "Are you two okay?"

  No.

  Juanita took the next step. Forward and definitely tentative. Instead of retrieving the pen, she shoved the clipboard into the man's chest. "Please, señor. You sign."

  As grateful as they both were when he nodded, Anna winced as the man accepted the clipboard, uncapped the fountain pen and scratched his name on the release. Juanita shuddered. The housekeeper snatched the release from his hands and thrust the unopened envelope at him before spinning around and racing out of the room as fast as her stocky legs could car
ry her. Anna would have given anything to be able to follow her. Instead, she forced herself to face Tom.

  She should thank him. She would have…if she could speak. She swallowed the lump in her throat as he stepped closer. She knew it was coming, knew she had to do it. She had to take that envelope and that pen from the man's hand and walk them into her cousin's lair and pass them over. She watched him extend his arm, hold both out. But she simply couldn't do it.

  "What is going on? It's just a pen."

  But when he stiffened, she knew. Tom Wild had done more than his homework. He'd just aced the entire test. He finally dragged his gaze back to hers. "Anna…tell me your cousin didn't use this pen to stab the man I replaced." She didn't bother answering.

  They both knew Luis had.

  * * *

  Tom glanced across the back of the limousine, into the seat facing his own. Despite the night, there was enough neon light flashing in through the tinted windows for him to make out Anna's features clearly enough. Though the woman appeared to be watching as the sea of honking traffic merged with another of strolling human bodies, she wasn't. He doubted she'd seen anything at all during the twenty-minute ride from her cousin's beachside hacienda into the heart of Panama City. She couldn't have. She was in shock.

  Hell, so was he. She hadn't murdered Manny.

  No, he hadn't asked her to confirm it, much less demanded to know why she'd let him believe she'd killed the man. He'd been too busy tossing that cursed pen onto Luis's desk and politely but quickly evacuating the man's shell-shocked cousin from his house before the lowlife figured out what Anna had unwittingly given away. In fact, Tom didn't plan on questioning Anna about Manny at all. Not while they were trapped in this air-conditioned leather box with that no-neck goon of a driver up front. The limo's soundproofed glass partition might be raised, the intercom off, but he wasn't taking any chances. Not after he'd discovered his host was loonier than anyone in ATF or Delta had ever suspected. Manny hadn't been stabbed with his own switchblade as their contacts in the Panamanian Defense Forces stated. Luis had stabbed his friend with that goddamned gold fountain pen—a pen the murdering bastard still carried!

  Tom studied his hands as he had inside the courtyard, half expecting to see the pen gleaming at him. His stomach lurched as light from a passing strip club touting its wares spilled into the limo and over his palms. For a split second, the neon red looked like blood. His buddy's blood.

  Christ. He clenched his fists and forced himself to throttle his fury in lieu of Luis Ortiz's neck. For now.

  Tom jerked his attention to the tinted windows and the Hotel Monterrey looming too many gridlocked blocks ahead. With Carnaval kickoff four days out, damned near every rental car and taxi in Panama had converged on the city. At this rate, it would take another twenty minutes to reach the restaurant atop the hotel. A five-star restaurant renowned for its oysters, caviar and imported cadre of condescending Castilian waiters. Given the fact that Anna was more out of it at the moment than when she'd been flat-out stoned the night before, he doubted she was up to the overrated experience either.

  The rainbow lights of a trio of bars slipped into his peripheral view, ushering in a better plan. Why not? Even if Juju hadn't had a chance to dredge up anything on Anna, he'd get the man's gut assessment. Given Juju's parting shot as he'd left his hotel room last night, not to mention his buddy's DEA cover, it could be worth it. Tom reached out and stabbed the intercom button. "Pull over here."

  Nothing. He hadn't even rated a grunt.

  Maybe the overgrown ape didn't speak English. Or maybe the intercom was busted. Right. Tom was about to issue the order again—this time loud enough for Luis's shady connections in Colombia to hear—when Anna finally turned to him and blinked.

  "Is something wrong, Mr. Wild?"

  Gee, he'd been forced to dump a provocative international courier pouch two inches from his buddy's murderer and then leave the man chatting merrily away back in that study with God knows who while he crawled into a leather box with some porcelain zombie. What could possibly be wrong? He shrugged. "I'm just not in the mood for an overpriced meal with undersize portions, no matter who's paying. I'd rather grab a burger, a beer and some atmosphere. How 'bout you?"

  "Uh—"

  "Unless you'd rather go home?"

  Right on cue, she flinched. He had to hand it to her, though. If he hadn't been waiting, he'd have missed it. He quashed the surge of victory as she folded her hands neatly in her lap. "A burger sounds great."

  But. She hadn't voiced the objection. She hadn't had to. He'd felt it. When her attention shifted past his right shoulder and lingered at the window once again, as if she was trying to figure out where they were—on the main strip of a city she'd grown up in—he realized that scene in the hacienda had rattled her more than he'd originally thought. He slapped the compassion down and seized the opportunity instead.

  "Since I'm the guest, how about I pick?" He watched as relief flooded those dark brown eyes as the limo passed beneath a streetlamp. Confusion crowded in after. He cut her off before it mutated to apprehension. "I hit the streets a couple nights ago. Ran into an old Army buddy. Turns out he owns a bar and grill in town—La Iguana Azul. I imagine it'll be a bit crowded tonight, but I've got a standing invite." Tom kicked in half a grin as he shrugged, just enough to keep the suspicion at bay. "I'm assuming it includes a guest."

  Too much, too soon. Because suspicion set in anyway. Fortunately, frank curiosity accompanied it.

  "An Army buddy? That's…fortunate."

  He nodded. "But if you'd rather go someplace else—"

  "No. La Iguana's fine."

  His own suspicion set in. According to Juju, his place had been in play for almost a year now. The woman might have left Panama for her father's home in the States when she was fourteen, but she'd also been here for three months. Long enough to discover the illicit menu the Iguana was known for besides burgers and beer…if she'd been looking. "You've been there?"

  Tom couldn't explain the relief that snuck into his gut when she shook her head. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He did know the jolt was as unwelcome as the compassion had been, and just as dangerous. He purged the remnants of both as she leaned forward to press a manicured nail into the intercom button he'd stabbed two minutes earlier.

  "Pepe, pare el coche aquí, por favor."

  Pepe instantly and miraculously found his hearing, immediately jockeying the limo to the side of the street. The ape parked the car halfway up onto the sidewalk before shoving his door open and lumbering forth with more speed than Tom would have thought possible given the man's girth. The resulting spike in the city's nonstop cacophony of honks, shouts and downright creative cursing reverberated through the back of the limo as Pepe broke the seal on their own door. The ape scowled down at him, deliberately blocking Tom's path as he elbowed his beefy, suit-clad arm into the car to assist his mistress out into the neon night. Tom vaulted out after, straight into a wall of tropical humidity. He plowed through the heavy air and rounded the ape, snagging Anna's free arm and drawing her to his side before she could change her mind about their change of plans. Unfortunately, the ape didn't go down gracefully.

  "¿Estacionaré yo el coche y lo une, señorita?"

  Anna's gaze settled on his as the posturing ape waited for her answer. Did she want Pepe to park and join them? Tom's gut assured him she didn't want the goon eavesdropping on their meal any more than he did. But while his nerves shouted push, years of experience forced him to do the opposite. Tom shrugged amid the milling bodies and still blaring horns. "Feel free to drag your gorilla along, honey."

  Evidently her gorilla spoke English after all, because it growled. The overgrown primate also lurched forward.

  Tom matched the move.

  "Pepe." The gorilla froze beneath his mistress's quiet warning. "Continue on to the Monterrey and enjoy our reservations." She withdrew an ivory business card from her purse and tucked it into the ape's paw. "Have Julio put your meal on m
y cousin's tab. I'll phone you when I'm ready."

  "But Señor Ortiz—"

  "—will not mind." Those last three words carried the same soft-spoken assurance of her first words. But they also provided a glimpse into the officer Anna had once been. Calm, cool. Firm. Even if Tom hadn't spent his last two weeks poring over the woman's Navy career, he'd have known right then and there that Lieutenant Shale had never raised her voice during the heat of command. She hadn't needed to.

  He watched, amused as the goon buckled beneath her quiet grace and clipped an unusually respectful nod—even for a purportedly adored cousin of Luis Ortiz—before swinging his bulging muscles back to the limo. The car door slammed behind them, for a brief moment displacing the cacophony of the street. Tom leaned down to murmur in Anna's ear as he guided her into the throng of pre-Carnaval revelers. "I think monkey-man has a crush on you."

  Her light, unexpected laugh washed through him, kicking the heat index in his gut up by another twenty degrees. The soft smile that followed doubled it. Somehow that simple curve—the first genuine twist he'd spotted in all the official Navy and surveillance photos he'd viewed, as well as in the flesh these past two days—made her seem even more vulnerable than her shock had. It also got to him.

  Remember the plan, buddy. The mission.

  Especially his impromptu one. She might not have murdered Manny, but she was covering for Luis. She was also flying through life via an artificial breeze he'd sworn a long time ago he'd never get involved with again. It didn't matter which cloth her kite was cut from. Though he did intend to find out.

  Tonight.

  The thought managed to cool his insides, despite the sweltering night—not to mention the smooth, bare skin beneath his hand as he hooked his arm around Anna's shoulders to guide her off the main drag and down a smaller, quieter, one-way street. He stopped a block down, beneath a streetlamp, to retrieve the folded square of hotel stationery from his wallet. He'd taken the dictation from Juju in front of the concierge following their "accidental" meeting in the crowded lobby earlier this morning. Anna waited patiently as he pretended to study the sketched map. He slipped the stationery and wallet inside his suit jacket and returned his hand to the small of her back.