This Side of Heaven tp-1

by Beverly Barton

  "I don't!"

  The pain was unbearable and yet she bore it. The tears that had only moments ago run so freely from her eyes lodged inside her, building the ache that threatened to choke the life from her. Nate had never told her that he loved her, but he had never said that he didn't. Until now. Did he honestly think that there was nothing more between them than the physical desire neither of them could deny?

  "Call Mimi. I'll explain things once we get there." He could feel her pain, and it was almost his undoing. But he would not allow himself to comfort her. More than love and comfort, Cyn needed his strength. Only his strength could protect her.

  "Should we... involve Mimi?" Cyn asked. "Won't my going there put her in danger?" An icy numbness had taken control of Cyn's emotions. She felt nothing, absolutely nothing. The pain of Nate's harsh rejection had spread through her so quickly that it had anesthetized her feelings.

  "Dundee will make sure we aren't being followed. He'll stay with you and Mimi until an agent arrives." Hesitating for a brief moment, Nate looked at her. He hated himself for hurting her, but he hated himself even more for putting her life in danger. "Call Mimi. Change clothes. Pack a bag."

  "Where will you go after you take me to Mimi's? Back to Sweet Haven?"

  "No. I've already called Romero. I'll be meeting him."

  Cyn walked on unsteady legs toward her bedroom. Paus­ing momentarily in the doorway, she turned slightly. "You're going after Ryker, aren't you? You're not going to wait for him to come to you."

  "He's already come to me," Nate said, his voice deadly soft. "He knew exactly what he was doing when he called. you. By threatening my woman, he issued me an invitation, one he knows I won't refuse."

  The blessed numbness inside her began to dissolve, leav­ing her with the tiniest emotional sensation. He had called her his woman. "Is that what I am?" she asked. "Your woman?"

  "The Conquistador's woman. That's what Ryker thinks you are," Nate said, and saw the spark of hope die in her eyes.

  Chapter 12

  Nate decided that Mimi Burnside was not only a sensible woman, but a human being with a heart of pure gold. He had liked the older woman the minute they met, but seeing her motherly concern for Cyn made him like her all the more.

  "Don't worry about a thing," Mimi said as Nate laid Cyn's suitcase at the foot of her bed. "I'll call Brucie in the morning and tell him that I've come down with the flu or something and that Cyn is going to be playing nursemaid so neither one of us will be in to work."

  Nate couldn't help but smile as he watched the big red­head, her graying hair rolled on soft pink curlers and her five-foot-ten-inch body wrapped in a blue chenille robe. Large-boned and buxom, Mimi Burnside looked more like an aging burlesque queen than a former factory worker turned housekeeper.

  "You go ahead and put on your gown, honey child," Mimi told Cyn, then turned to Nate. "You come out in the living room with me while she changes."

  Nate obeyed, following Mimi. Once outside the closed bedroom door, she leaned over and whispered, "I've got a gun. A .25 automatic. I don't usually keep it loaded, but I've got the bullets for it."

  "Do you know how to use it?" he asked, not in the least surprised that she had a gun.

  "Yeah. My first husband taught me how. Good thing, too, since I had to run off that no-good bum I married the second time. He tried to use me for a punching bag one time too many." Mimi pointed to the sofa covered with a bright flowered slipcover. "Sit."

  "Are you sure you were never in the service? You sound a lot like my old boot camp drill instructor." Nate sat down, relaxing just a bit, certain that he had brought Cyn to the right place.

  Mimi laughed, the sound hearty and unrestrained. "That Dundee fellow a friend of yours?" She nodded toward the front door.

  "He works for me."

  "A hired gun?"

  "Something like that."

  "When should I expect that government man?" Mimi asked.

  "Possibly by morning. When I leave here, I'm meeting Nick Romero."

  "You two going a-huntin'?" Mimi widened her slanted cat eyes.

  "You just take care of Cyn and don't worry about me."

  "We'll both worry about you," Cyn said as she opened the bedroom door.

  Nate looked up. His heartbeat accelerated. She looked so small and fragile standing there in her aqua satin robe, her hair hanging loosely to her waist.

  When she neared the sofa, he stood. He wanted to reas­sure her that everything would be all right. But he couldn't lie to her, and if he took her in his arms, he might never be able to let her go.

  "This will all be over soon," he said. "Whatever hap­pens—"

  Her tormented cry ripped at his heart like the talons of a mighty bird. "Don't say that."

  "Cynthia Porter has always been a strong woman, some­one people could depend on. Be strong now." Silently he added, "Be strong for me, Brown Eyes. I need your strength."

  "Go and do what you have to do." Silently she added, "I'll be waiting for you...forever."

  Hastily, before his courage deserted him, Nate left. Mimi came up beside Cyn and placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. As Nate walked out into the hallway, Cyn no­ticed Dundee step out of the shadows. He came inside and closed the door.

  "You ladies go on to bed whenever you like. I'll just sack out here on the couch."

  Mimi squeezed Cyn's shoulder. "Come on, honey child."

  "I don't think I can sleep," Cyn said, leaning her head against her friend's arm. "How can I rest not knowing what's happening with Nate, wondering if he's killing or being killed?"

  Mimi led Cyn into her small bedroom. The light from an imitation Tiffany lamp spread a colorful glow over the un­made bed. "If you can't sleep, then we'll just have us a slumber party. We'll sit up the rest of the night and talk."

  "It's not fair to involve you in this." Cyn turned to Mimi and was reassured by the smile on her face. "Nate seems to think we'll be safe with Dundee keeping guard over us."

  Mimi gave Cyn a persuasive nudge, suggesting she sit. Cyn slumped down on the side of the bed. Mimi went around to the other side, got in, and propped several pil­lows behind her as she sat up against the headboard. "Nate knew what he was doing bringing you here. The only way that Ryker fellow could get to you would be through me."

  Burying her hands in her face, Cyn cried silent, painful sobs. Mimi reached out and touched Cyn's back. "Go ahead and cry it all out. Better do it here with me than to let Nate see you like this. He's already worried enough about you."

  After cleansing her heart with a torrent of uncontrolled crying, Cyn wiped her eyes with her hands, scooted up in the bed to sit beside Mimi, and pulled a blanket up over her legs. "I thought that losing Evan was the worst thing that could ever happen to me, but I was wrong."

  "You're not going to lose Nathan Hodges," Mimi said.

  Cyn tried to smile at the firm conviction she heard in her friend's voice. She wanted to believe. "I never knew you could love someone the way I love Nate. It's...it's as if I've always loved him."

  "Since you were fifteen and dreamed about him for the first time?" Mimi asked.

  "It was Nate in my dreams. The same eyes. The same body. The same strength." Cyn fumbled with the frayed edge of the blanket with which she'd covered herself. "But the man in my dreams was more than just Nate. He was... oh, Mimi, you'll think I'm crazy if I tell you."

  "So, tell me anyway. I'm probably crazy enough to be­lieve you."

  "Do you know what Nate's nickname in the service was?"

  "Does this have something to do with your dreams?"

  "Yes." Cyn cleared her throat. "They called him the Conquistador."

  Mimi sucked in her breath. "Who... but that's just a co­incidence, honey child."

  "Maybe. Maybe not."

  "You think the man in your dreams was the ancient war­rior whose soul is supposed to roam the beach at Sweet Ha­ven with his Indian bride?"

  "Part the ancient warrior and part Nate, the modern
warrior who will set the lovers free to enter paradise."

  "Well, I'm not sure I actually believe it." Mimi's ner­vous smile could not disguise her doubts.

  "I'm not sure I do, either, but...every time Nate touches me, it's as if he's touched me a hundred times before. I've known him for such a short time, and yet I feel as if I've known him forever."

  "I think you're tired and stressed out. In the last few weeks, your whole world has been turned upside down. If your belief that you and Nate are the lovers in the prophecy who will set a couple of ancient souls free helps you get through this ordeal, then who am I to think you're crazy?"

  "He told me he didn't love me," Cyn said.

  "When?"

  "Tonight."

  "Did you believe him?"

  "I did when he told me," Cyn admitted.

  "And do you still believe him?"

  "No."

  Cyn laid her head down on a large, soft pillow. Closing her eyes, she prayed for a few hours of sleep. Dreamless sleep. * * *

  Nate didn't spot Nick Romero's car when he pulled into the all-night diner's parking lot. No doubt Romero had used a government vehicle. Something a lot less conspicuous than the sporty 1968 silver Jag he drove.

  When Nate entered the diner, the big plastic clock above the counter reminded him that it was after midnight. The aroma of strong coffee mingled with the fading smells of numerous meals and the ever-present odor of grease. The place was spotlessly clean, but the equipment and furniture had seen better days.

  Nate glanced around the partially deserted eatery. A cou­ple of guys sat at the counter drinking coffee, a middle-aged couple sat cuddled lovingly in a back booth, and an elderly man sat alone up front, reading a newspaper. Nick Romero sat in the second booth from the front door, and he wasn't alone. He was talking to a very attractive brunette.

  Damn Romero, Nate thought. What the hell was he do­ing flirting with some dame? Nate knew that Romero liked women, and had spent over forty years living up to his nickname, but now wasn't the time for him to make a new conquest.

  Nate approached the table, determined to control the urge to jerk Romero up by his collar and to send the brunette packing.

  Romero looked up at Nate and smiled. "Sit down, old buddy, and let me introduce you to the lady."

  Nate sat down on the opposite side of the booth and gave Romero a deadly look. "I haven't got time to meet any of your friends. This is business. Remember?"

  Romero's smile widened. "Don't get bent out of shape. This lady is an agent. Donna Webb is going to be keeping an eye on Cyn until you finish things with Ryker."

  Nate took a closer look at the woman sitting beside Romero. She appeared to be in her early thirties. Dressed in jeans, turtleneck pullover and a baggy plaid jacket, she could have passed for the average woman on the street.

  Nate offered his hand. Donna took it. "I left Cyn at Mimi Burnside's. Dundee is with them."

  "What did you think of Dundee?" Romero asked.

  "I think he's capable," Nate said.

  "Yeah, he's capable." Shaking his head, Romero laughed. "Sam Dundee was one of the meanest, toughest agents I ever worked with. He always reminded me a little bit of you."

  "Then I'm glad he was available on such short notice," Nate said, then turned his attention to Donna Webb. "Cyn will probably feel more comfortable with a female agent. She hates the idea of having a bodyguard. I haven't told her yet that we're planning on sending her to her father's home in Savannah."

  "You realize we can't force her to leave Jacksonville if she isn't willing to go," Donna said.

  "She'll be willing to go," Nate said. "I can promise you that."

  Nate spent the next thirty minutes drinking coffee, dis­cussing the situation and making plans with Romero and Agent Webb. By the time the three of them left the diner, Nate felt reassured that Donna was as capable of protect­ing Cyn as any male agent.

  Outside, the cool night air swirled around them. Over­head storm clouds obscured the pale moon and blackened the normally starry sky. Streetlights illuminated the park­ing lot, as did the huge neon Open 24 Hours sign flashing with bright, colorful light.

  "Do you want to go with me to drop Donna off at Mrs. Burnside's?" Romero asked.

  Nate shook his head. "No. I've already said my good­byes."

  "Okay. I'll meet you at your place in a couple of hours and we'll start tracking Ryker. If he can find you, then we should be able to find him."

  Donna put her hand on Nate's arm. "Don't worry about Ms. Porter. I promise to take good care of her."

  "Yeah, I know you will." Nate forced a fake smile, feel­ing nothing but loneliness and dread.

  Romero and Donna headed straight for the brown sedan parked on the left side of the diner. Nate walked in the op­posite direction toward his Jeep.

  A speeding car flew down the street in front of the diner. No other traffic stirred at such a late hour. At first Nate heard the roar of the motor, then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the vehicle swerve off the road, as if the driver had lost control.

  Adrenaline pumped through his body like floodwater through a broken dam. Turning quickly, he caught a glimpse of a metal object sticking out of the car window, some­thing held by the man sitting on the passenger's side. The moment his mind registered the object as a gun, Nate yelled out a warning as he dropped to the sidewalk, seeking cover behind the Camaro parked beside his Jeep.

  The earsplitting sound of an Uzi firing repeatedly echoed in Nate's ears. Hunched on his bent knees, Nate made his way down the front of the Camaro as the Uzi's lethal clat­ter rang out a deadly toll. He saw Donna go down, her slender body crumpling, her arms flying about in midair as the force of the Uzi's bullets ripped through her. Then the attacker turned his attention to Romero, who had just pulled his automatic from his shoulder holster. His hand was in mid-aim, his gun pointed, when he took his first hit.

  Nate opened his mouth on a silent scream of protest. Then suddenly, he felt a sharp pain lance his side.

  As quickly as the car appeared, it disappeared. The si­lence following the ungodly round of shots was morbid in its intensity;

  Dammit all, he had never figured Ryker would try a sneak attack. He'd been so sure that he would want a face-to-face confrontation.

  Running his fingers inside his jacket and alongside his rib cage, Nate felt the wet stickiness of his own blood. He knew he'd been hit.

  As he struggled to stand, he noticed all the diner's cus­tomers coming to the door. But not one of them ventured outside. Nate saw that neither Donna nor Romero was moving. Blood covered both bodies. Nearby vehicles were dotted with splashes of red. Puddles of crimson formed on the sidewalk.

  Nate checked Donna first. She was the closest to him. One of the bullets had taken off a chunk of her neck. She was dead.

  Romero groaned when Nate leaned over him. "It's my leg," he said. "I'm bleeding like a stuck hog. I think he got the artery."

  No matter how many times Nate had seen a comrade's body riddled with bullets or shattered by an explosion, the sight still sickened him. With trained instincts, Nate in­spected the large hole in Romero's leg, then administered the correct amount of pressure to stop the flow of blood from the femoral artery which the Uzi's bullet had severed.

  Turning his head toward the array of onlookers hiding inside the diner, Nate yelled, "Call an ambulance!"

  The elderly man who had been quietly reading his news­paper stepped outside. "I done called 'em. Told 'em it was a shooting and to hurry." He hesitated in the open door­way. "Is she dead?"

  "Yeah," Nate said. "She's dead."

  "How about him?" the man asked, nodding toward Romero.

  Nate looked down at his friend. "He's alive, and by God, he's going to stay that way." * * *

  By the time Dundee answered the insistent ringing of the doorbell, Mimi and Cyn were standing in the living room, belting their robes and yawning.

  Cyn's heart beat overtime. She had never known such fear. Not knowing
whether a killer or the bearer of bad news stood outside Mimi's apartment triggered a surge of adren­aline within Cyn's trembling body.

  Holding his Magnum, Dundee motioned for Mimi and Cyn to step back inside the bedroom. With one quick move, he swung open the door and aimed his automatic.

  "Put your gun away, amigo," Emilio Rivera said.

  "Who the hell are you?" Dundee asked.

  Peering out into the living room, Cyn gasped when she saw Ramon Carranza's huge bodyguard. Mimi gave her a shove and they both took several tentative steps, stopping abruptly when Emilio glanced their way.

  "What's wrong?" Cyn asked.

  "Señora Porter." Emilio's dark eyes rested on her briefly, then looked over at Mimi. "Señora Burnside, you will help her dress. Please. Señor Carranza is waiting outside in the limousine."

  Cyn moved forward, hesitating several feet away from Emilio. "What's happened? Why does Señor Carranza want to see me?" She grabbed the back of the sofa, clutching the flowery material in her hands.

  "Señor Carranza will explain everything. But you must hurry, señora," Emilio said.

  "Now see here, one cotton-pickin' minute." Mimi put her hands on her ample hips, giving Emilio a warning glare. "You ain't taking this girl nowhere unless we get the word from Nate Hodges. Ain't that right, Dundee?"

  "I'm afraid I must insist," Emilio said. "You can trust us, Señora Porter."

  "Now that's where you're wrong, pal." Dundee, his au­tomatic still pointed at Emilio, moved toward their unin­vited visitor. "We know we can't trust you."

  "Señora, surely after all Señor Carranza has done to help you, to finance your shelter, you can trust him." Emilio took a step toward Cyn.

  Dundee moved quickly, placing his big body between Emilio and Cyn. "You go back downstairs and tell your boss that Ms. Porter isn't going anywhere with him."

  "But he only wishes to take you to the hospital to see Nathan Hodges," Emilio said.

  "What?" Cyn cried out. "What's happened to Nate?"

  "Don't listen to him," Mimi said, grabbing Cyn by the arm. "It's some kind of trap."

  Jerking out of Mimi's grasp, Cyn rushed toward the bed­room. Mimi caught her just as she swung open the door. "Don't be a fool, gal!"