Luis shrugged. "It seems they can take only me."
She nearly fainted as he had the gall to wink at her rumpled dress in front of everyone.
"It looks as if you could use a shower and nap anyway. Stay, prima. You too, Señor Wild. I'll call you both when I am settled."
Tom's hand settled on her shoulder as her cousin and his impromptu entourage left the room. "He'll be fine now."
"I know." She'd been through this scene enough times growing up to know Luis was right. He probably didn't need to see the doctor. Once the hospital verified that his blood sugar level was stable, he'd be on his way back to the hacienda. Until then, "Tom, a bunch of papers flew out of the safe when I grabbed the injector. Take a look. I'll stay here and watch the door." She caught Tom's admiration and flushed. She didn't deserve it. Not after what she'd just seen him do. And especially not after last night. "Go."
He spun around and crossed the room.
She turned to the door, watching the courtyard as she listened to him rifling through the papers.
"See anything?"
"Not really. His will, international incorporation papers for Ortiz Imports, a few things that really don't seem to belong—" she caught another rustle. "—especially this."
"What?"
"You speak Chinese, don't you?"
She turned her back on the door. "Mandarin."
"What do you make of this?"
She crossed the room, taking what appeared to be a bill of lading from Tom's hand as he double-checked the remaining documents before tucking them into the safe beneath her cousin's insulin supply. "It's from a mainland medical supply company. It looks like Luis is buying his insulin from China now." In other words, useless.
Tom matched her curse as he retrieved the form and shoved it into the safe before relocking it. He spun the dial for good measure. "Great. The Carnaval coronation's tomorrow and we're back to square one."
"You really think that's the key, don't you?"
"Yeah. I don't have proof, though. Just my gut." He crossed the carpet, raking his hands through his hair as he sank into one of the leather chairs flanking her cousin's desk. The left chair. She stared at the black leather still visible around Tom's navy-blue suit. She knew the stains were gone. She knew it. He never would have sat there if they weren't. So why could she still see the blood?
"I swear, it's as if your cousin—"
She was dimly aware of him breaking off as the roar inside her head grew so loud her ears hurt. The ache in her breast increased as Tom stood, throbbing out scenes from the nightmare engraved on her brain with each step he took, marking the remaining seconds of Manny's life as Tom reached her. She watched Tom's hand extend. She still couldn't keep from flinching as he tipped her chin.
"Anna?"
She blinked and the memory, the nightmare, evaporated.
"That's where it happened, isn't it? In that chair."
"Yeah."
"You want to talk about it?"
She shook her head. "But you need to know, don't you?"
He nodded. "It might help."
"It will." She knew he didn't understand. That was okay. He would soon enough. She sucked in her breath, determined to get it over with. "But not here. Upstairs, in my bedroom. There's something I need to show you. Something that requires…privacy." He captured her gaze. From the heat that entered, she knew what he was thinking. Remembering. What he didn't know was that he was about to see it again and more.
But when he did, she doubted the heat would last.
Chapter 11
She was taking the longest shower of his life.
Tom paced across the carpet of Anna's room, desperately trying not think about what was happening on the opposite side of that connecting bathroom door. He never should have suggested Anna bathe first. He wouldn't have, if she hadn't still looked so pale and wiped out after last night, not to mention this morning's emergency CPR session with her cousin down in the study. Tom had seen the guilt warring in her face. That Luis was a bastard and a murderer couldn't erase the fact that Luis was also the last living member of her family who even pretended to care about her. He sure hoped the steam wisping up from beneath the connecting door had helped her frayed nerves because frankly, the steady streaming noise that went with it was driving him insane.
Wild Man, his ass. Rick and Juju were right.
He was a sorry excuse for the name.
Why else had he been standing in the bedroom of the most beautiful woman he'd ever known and hadn't stopped once to fantasize about what might be happening inside that marble stall? He was too busy obsessing over what could be happening outside it. Had she finished already and left the spray on as cover? Did she have a stash in there? It was more than possible. Once his mother realized he was on to her, she'd learned to hide them everywhere. And Gayle? Her drug of choice might have been harder to hide, but it was also easier to get. He supposed it balanced out in the end.
Just as they both had.
He shoved the memories and the regrets aside and paced back to the French doors that led out to a second-story balcony. When he stopped just shy of the doors to strain his ears against the spray of water for the thousandth time, he knew it was time to do anything but just stand inside this room and wait to be fitted for a straitjacket. He popped the latch on the doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The wall of humidity, even at this hour, nearly knocked him back in.
He shrugged off his coat and loosened his tie as he stalked over to the whitewashed adobe balustrade. He tossed his coat over the top, automatically scanning the sandy horizon and then the narrow stretch of lawn beneath. He had an audience. Anna's gorilla. From the scowl on Pepe's face, the man was not happy about finding him on his mistress's private balcony.
Off her even more private, locked bedroom suite.
That episode with Luis down in the study might have earned him the ape's grudging forgiveness for rupturing his eardrums, but it wouldn't for this.
Tom nodded to Pepe, Pepe nodded back, both of them knowing full well that wouldn't be the end of it. He deliberately turned his back on the goon to stare out over the Pacific. Not a bad spot for a house, even if it did swelter in and around the nineties almost year-round in these parts. He wondered if Anna would have a problem giving it all up when the mission was over. Even two military paychecks combined would never rate this—Tom stiffened, and it wasn't the brief glimpse he'd caught of Pepe finally strolling back around to the front of the house that caused it.
It was his errant brain.
He had no business thinking about a future with Anna. Even if she was interested in a future that included him, it couldn't be. He wouldn't be able to handle it.
If nothing else, last night had cemented it.
He'd been plotting to burn past that shield of hers since the moment they'd met but, God help him, he hadn't wanted it to happen like that. In the past twelve hours, he'd learned more than he'd ever thought he could about the real Anna Shale and even more about himself. Every single lesson terrified him. He could have left her with Juju. His buddy would have taken care of her. Excellent care. By the time Juju arrived, Anna had finished imparting her secrets. From then on, it had been your standard overdose, every goddamned second of which had sliced into him, just like all the times before. He'd tried to leave. But he couldn't. Not last night. Not her.
So what did he do now? Stick around and wait for another round? And another? Until the final one? Would he learn his lesson then? He'd battled the enemy often enough to have learned that when it came right down to him or the high, he always came in last. Always.
What the devil was taking her so long?
He closed his eyes as he caught the sound of the commode flushing from within. Soon. One way or another, he'd know soon. Until the next time. He forced himself to wait for her and the truth to come to him, holding tight to his hope and his prayers as he heard the doors open behind him.
"Tom?"
He turned around—and searched.
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She flushed.
So did he. He hadn't meant to be so bloody obvious. "I'm sorry. I don't—"
"Yes. You do."
His temperature shot up another twenty degrees. He'd give anything to be able to attribute the surge of heat to the sight of this woman dressed in a floor-length ivory silk robe, but he couldn't. It was the bizarre awkwardness of it all. For the first time in a long time, it really, truly mattered. He had to know. But she was standing in the shade, just far enough away that he couldn't get a clear view.
Or was he just afraid to?
She pulled the edges of her robe snug and tightened the matching silk belt. "Look. It's okay. I took something from you last night, I know that. Something that was precious. But what I didn't realize until just now is that I took it from me, too. Juju…he told me about your mom."
Great. He stepped back until he was leaning against the balustrade. "Yeah, well, my past doesn't give me the right—"
"No, it doesn't. But I do. Let's get one thing clear right now. You do have the right to ask me if I'm high. I'm giving it to you. You also have the right to look for yourself whenever and wherever you want. You even have the right to doubt me—and, yeah, you have the right to search my belongings too. But what I don't have the right to do is get upset. Not with you." She stepped forward, into the light, and kept coming. God help him, he looked.
He searched.
Relief seared in as he made out each and every one of the mesmerizing gold flecks in her dark, sultry but very clear brown eyes. She was clean. For now.
Uncomfortable with just how much he needed her to stay that way, he turned toward the ocean. "I'm sorry."
She joined him at the balustrade. "Don't be. I already told you, you didn't do this to me. Hell, it's not even Foster's fault. I did it all on my own. You hit the nail on the head last night. You're just the man who's making me live with the consequences. And that's okay. It's even good. Because I swear to you I don't want to live with the pills."
He wanted to believe her. He really did. But—
He stiffened. "Foster? What does he have to do with the pills? All you said last night was you were working for the man as an NCIS plant and that Foster compromised the border team to provide your cover."
She leaned up against the balustrade. "Maybe I should start at the beginning, now that I know what I'm saying?"
"Good idea."
She sighed. "It started three months ago when Foster brought me down to the NCIS offices in San Diego. He showed me several photos of Luis's handiwork and asked me to climb aboard. I did. I just didn't know how dirty the ride would get."
"The border team?"
She nodded. "No one was supposed to die. Not really. The scenario was supposed to be fictional. I was transferred to the embassy here to help on several issues with the Chinese port container holdings at Balboa. A week later, I walk into my office and the whole blessed place was being ripped apart. Next thing I know, I'm sitting down with a CIA investigator trying to explain why drug interdiction memos were found on my computer's hard drive. I had no answer. They had no real proof because the time stamps showed that the memos were downloaded before I got to Panama."
"Foster."
"Yup. He shows up at my door that night and tells me to keep my mouth shut, I'm doing great. If I do my job for him right, when all is said and done the computer file fiasco will go away and I'll be a hero. Some hero. Next thing I know, I'm asked to resign my commission. Seems they still couldn't prove anything, but no one trusted me anymore, either." Her lips twisted bitterly. "Suspicion and trust are kind of a big deal in the Intel field."
That they were. "What about Manny?"
The twist faded. Her gaze turned pensive. "He was already working for Luis by the time I arrived. I'm really not sure of the details, Luis still won't discuss him. I know Manny worked out of one of the warehouses. About a week before Manny died, he replaced another guy as Luis's driver and Man Friday, of sorts. Luis introduced Manny to me a few days before he—" she swallowed softly "—was killed. I had strange vibes and unfortunately, Luis picked up on them. It was almost as if Luis was looking for a reason to kill Manny. And I…I gave it to him." She turned to the ocean and blinked several times. She didn't seem to want him to acknowledge the glistening sheen, so he waited. She finally gave up and turned back, her eyes openly tearing now.
His heart clenched. "Anna? Are you—"
"I'm fine. It just hurts. The memory and…something else. Something other than the body aches from coming down. I took a couple of Tylenol before I showered, but they haven't kicked in yet." She shook her head. "Don't worry, you'll understand in a minute."
He hoped so, 'cause he was lost now.
"Anyway, Foster wanted me to plant a bug."
Tom stiffened. "He what?" Foster had asked an inexperienced operator to plant a listening device on Loony Louie, himself? A man known around town for maintaining his own private staff of bug sweepers? Rumor had it Luis was so paranoid he wouldn't even rig his own offices or house for his personal recording just in case the frequency could be compromised. It was one of the main reasons Tom hadn't bothered leaving for this debrief. The place was clean.
Her lips twisted again. "As usual, you've done your homework."
"Didn't Foster?"
She shrugged. "Ask him."
"I intend to." He had a few other things he'd be taking up with the man as well. "What happened?"
"Foster pushed. I finally told him about the pen. Vice President Gutierrez gave it to Luis a year ago. He always carries it. I told Foster and he got hold of another one, doctored it and gave it to me. I nearly had a heart attack, but I got them switched. Foster was happy for two whole days. And then, I walked into Luis's study and Manny was sitting in that chair playing with it—searching it. When he opened it, the damned bug fell out. And that's when Luis walked in."
Son of a—
"I'm so sorry." The tears welled up in her eyes again, and this time blinking didn't help. One by one they trickled down as she relieved the horror, each carving a path through him.
He couldn't help it. Unable to stay his hands or his heart any longer, he pushed the damp strands of hair from her face, his fingers shaking as he smoothed the tears from her cheeks. "Oh, honey, it's not your fault."
But that just caused a fresh bout to slip free.
"You don't understand. Just before Luis walked in, Manny knew. He recognized the quality of the device. He knew it was a U.S. government bug. He made me."
"And you made him."
He watched the guilt lock in as she sucked her breath. "Don't you get it? He could have ratted me out. If he had—"
"—he'd probably still be dead. And so would you." He dropped his hands to her shoulders and dried the tears that had made it down to her jaw, then tipped her face to force her to meet his gaze, to listen. To believe. "Anna, Manny made a decision. It was his to make. His risk to take. His job. It's not your fault. It's Luis's." And Foster's but, again, he'd be taking that up with the NCIS bastard himself.
He tried to wait for the truth to sink in. But when those gut-wrenching tears still wouldn't cease, he buckled beneath the need clawing at him. He pulled her to his chest and held on tight as the shudders overtook her, smoothing his hands through her damp hair again and again until they finally ceased. "It's okay, sweetheart, it's okay. I'm here now. You're not alone in this anymore. But you did good. I swear. You're just up against some pretty nasty players and, hell, you're related to one of them." It was enough to do anyone in. Frankly, he was surprised she'd returned for another round.
"What made you come back?"
Her eyes were red and puffy. "Foster. He followed me. Threatened me."
"The pills in college."
Shame slipped into the sultry shadows of her eyes, dulling the gold, deadening the spark as she nodded. Oh, yeah, he so needed to have a chat with this guy. But first, there was something else he needed to know. And it wasn't about her first go-round with the stuff.
Amazing.
He'd all but bellowed the question at her twice now, once in that alcove outside the Iguana and again last night. But now, when he truly wanted to know, when he needed to, he couldn't even get the words past. He cleared his throat a second time and tried once more. "Anna, were you serious?"
She blinked.
"About…rights?"
The shadows in her eyes darkened, lengthened. "You want to know about the pills I took last night."
His gut clenched. Hell, his heart constricted. He didn't care. He wasn't sure if she remembered his tirade in that concrete hovel last night, but he'd meant every word. She had so much going for her. Brains, beauty, friends, that smart-aleck mouth. Why was she willing to throw it all away? The stress? She should have walked instead. He wished she had. No, he wouldn't have met her then—and, yeah, he wouldn't have fallen for her. But she'd be whole. Alive. Vibrant.
Clean.
"Why?" It was all he could get out.
It must not have been enough because she stepped out of his arms and turned so that her back was pressing into the balustrade. "Could you come around and face me? I know there's no one down there, but it's still a bit…embarrassing. Well, without the pills, at any rate."
What was she talking about? He moved anyway.
A moment later, the fingers working the tie on her robe registered. Surely she didn't intend to—
Before he could swallow his shock, she'd released the belt and then the entire upper right side of her robe. It slipped off her shoulder slowly, revealing the most amazing curve of smooth, dusky flesh. His breath caught as her duskier nipple came into view, riveting him. His groin caught. Locked. Hardened. He couldn't have stopped her if he'd wanted to. And he didn't. And then he did. If only to make the horrific sight that followed go away. To erase it. To turn back the clock and kill whoever or whatever had made this happen. He was dimly aware of her not-quite-so-careless shrug.
"Yeah, it's…pretty ugly, isn't it? Probably even turns your stomach. I should know. It turns mine."
She was right. It was ugly. An ugly, vicious violation of her flesh. And it did turn his stomach, but not the way she'd thought it would. And it sure as hell didn't turn him away. He stepped closer, reached out, traced his fingertips up the angry, mottled scar. Smoothed them over the swollen hematoma surrounding it. The bruise was huge, at least five shades of black and three of deep, dark purple.
A Dangerous Engagement Page 18