TrustMe

by Unknown

  “You okay?” he asked, his gaze flicking over her for one intense second as they reached the end of the path.

  She scrubbed a knuckle over her pounding heart and told herself to focus. “Yes, of course I am.”

  “Good.”

  He turned his attention to the boathouse dominating the landscape straight ahead of them. Doing her best to emulate his composure, she, too, turned to study El Presidente’s newest architectural extravagance.

  The building was a large, long, rectangular structure with an impressively high roof. From their current vantage point, it appeared to be completely enclosed, but she knew from her previous visit that it was open to the water on its far side. Ramps at either end provided access to the long apron of awning-covered dock that paralleled the shore, with a double door in the middle big enough to accommodate El Presidente and his usual entourage, and a far less obtrusive service entrance at the extreme right corner.

  The good news was that that particular door happened to be almost directly ahead of them. The not-so-good news was that in order to reach it, they needed to move out into the open and cross a paved parking area at least fifty feet long.

  And while Dominic’s presence might not be remarked on if they were seen, Lilah’s most definitely would.

  “Too bad Condesta was too cheap to buy a yacht with its own chopper and pad,” Dominic commented caustically. His statement was accompanied by the now-familiar snick of sliding metal.

  Lilah glanced over to see that the automatic, which just minutes ago had been secured under his shirt at the small of his back, was now out in the open, an extension of his hand.

  “Okay, here we go,” The hard look on his face lightened momentarily as he glanced at her. “You ready?”

  She took a deep breath and turned back to face the building, doing her best to strip the wings off the butterflies dive-bombing her stomach. “Yes.”

  “Just take it nice and easy and act like you have every reason to be here.”

  “I will.”

  “Just one other thing, Li.”

  She could feel her patience fraying as her butterflies morphed into F-16s. She swiveled to look at him. “What?”

  “Try not to look like your dog just died. It sort of ruins the illusion of our being trusty workers, you know?”

  Lilah stared at him. For all that he was deadly serious about what he was doing, it was also equally obvious that on some level he was enjoying himself. And heaven help her, although it probably meant she was certifiable, she’d never been able to resist Dominic in a good mood.

  Just looking at him, his big body vibrating with energy, his eyes holding just a hint of wicked humor, made her feel better. At least for the moment, her killer butterflies were gone. “You know you’re a lunatic, right?”

  A genuine grin flashed across his face. “Oh, yeah.”

  Tucking the gun to his side, where it was mostly obscured by the folds of his shirt flapping in the breeze, he gestured for her to precede him and they stepped out into the glaring sunlight. As uneventfully as if they were crossing Silver Street in downtown Denver, they walked across the pavement, went unhurriedly down the ramp and slipped into the boathouse’s cool interior, stopping just inside the door to get their bearings.

  The largest expanse of dock stretched along the long side of the building that was closest to shore. Two shorter but still substantial sections of walkway projected at right angles from each end. In between were eight individual slips, separated one from the other by even shorter, narrower sections of planking. Lined up like blooded horses, one to a stall, were three sleek speedboats, two tall sport-fishing vessels and a single muscular Cigarette boat. One berth was empty and the other held the prize that they’d come for: El Presidente’s shiny new float plane.

  Its pristine white exterior gleamed like polished pearl in the dappled light reflecting off the gently lapping water. Drawn like a moth to a flame, Lilah automatically took a step toward it.

  In the next instant, her ears were assaulted by a sudden shout of laughter accompanied by the din of at least three other loud male voices, all talking at once.

  Before she could even figure out where the threat was coming from, a hard familiar hand closed over her mouth and Dominic yanked her off her feet, hauling her back behind a huge wooden crate she hadn’t even noticed was there.

  His warm breath suddenly tickled against her ear. “Shh,” he whispered. “Be quiet and stay here.” Then the grip on her waist eased, the hand on her mouth slid away and he stole soundlessly away.

  She sagged back against the crate, which was easily twice as tall as she was, knees weak, pulse pounding. Wrapping her arms around herself, she ordered herself to calm down and stop shaking, only to find that her body didn’t seem inclined to listen. Silently cursing herself, she squeezed her eyes shut in disgust.

  “Li.”

  A warm hand touched her arm and she jerked her eyes open. Dominic was back, standing just inches away. Given his size, how on earth could he move so silently?

  “No big deal,” he reported, his voice a mere suggestion of sound. “It’s just a bunch of dockhands down by the gas pumps playing cards, okay?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Wait here, then come when I give you the signal.”

  She bobbed her head again. Counting to ten as he moved away, she got a choke hold on her rioting nerves, then turned. Peeking around the corner of her sanctuary, she watched as the love of her life cat-footed it over to the plane, released it from its moorings, lifted himself up and carefully tried the door.

  When it opened, he turned and hooked his finger at her.

  Praying she wouldn’t suddenly trip and fall on her face, Lilah took a fortifying breath, found a remnant of courage and tiptoed as fast as she could toward him. The second she was within reach, he leaned over, wrapped his hand around her forearm and lifted her up, effortlessly pulling her with him as he climbed into the cockpit and moved across to the pilot’s seat.

  He really was good at this.

  “Get yourself strapped in,” he said, stowing the gun out of his way as he examined what to her was a bewildering display of dials, gauges, knobs and switches.

  Before she could even manage to find her harness buckle, he’d flipped several switches and made a series of quick adjustments to a variety of gauges and knobs. In the next instant, the engine caught and the propeller spun to life. As easy as that, the plane began to move, skating smoothly out of the boathouse and beyond the reach of the men she could hear shouting behind them. Slowly picking up speed, the aircraft readily responded as Dom adjusted the ailerons so that they were headed squarely into the wind blowing in from the mouth of the bay.

  And then, just when it seemed that they’d made a perfect getaway, their luck ran out.

  Sweeping majestically around the breakwater came a pricey-looking speedboat throwing up impressive jets of spray in its wake. The hull was a metallic gray in color, with the bow painted to resemble a shark’s deadly mouth and a pair of San Timotean flags fluttering from the gunwales. Standing in the stern were a pair of brawny, hatchet-faced men dressed in black.

  Seated at the wheel was none other than Manolo Condesta himself. And he was steering a course for home that had the boat barreling straight toward them.

  “Ohmigod,” Lilah gasped.

  Dom uttered a single syllable that was considerably more profane. “I wondered about that empty berth,” he said with unmistakable disgust. “What do you suppose the odds of this are?”

  Her reply was automatic since her attention was focused on Condesta, whose face she could see making the transition from puzzlement to disbelief to dawning outrage. “I have no idea.” She swallowed. “What are we going to do?”

  “Pray like hell he slows down or turns away, because I’m sure as hell not about to.”

  She tore her gaze away from El Presidente to stare at the man beside her. She wasn’t mistaken; except for a faint tension in the set of his s
houlders, he was once more calm and utterly under control. “You’re not?”

  “Nope.” He pushed the throttle more fully forward and made another slight adjustment to the flaps. Skimming steadily over the water now, the plane seemed to skip from wave to wave as the wings caught the air.

  “But…we’re headed straight at them.”

  His shoulders hitched in a ghost of a shrug. “Can’t help it. We have to take off into the wind and ole Manolo there just happens to be dead center in our path.”

  She thought for a moment. “But his bodyguards—don’t they have guns?” Recalling every action-adventure film she’d ever seen where a boat and plane played chicken, she realized they always ended the same way, with the opposing parties blasting away at each other….

  “Handguns,” Dom specified. “Which aren’t very effective under these conditions in the best of hands. And from what I’ve seen of Condesta’s men, best anything doesn’t describe them. They’re big on brute strength, weak on finesse. Don’t worry—” he took his eyes off the instrument panel for a moment to glance over and send her a look of reassurance “—everything’s going to be fine. I’m not about to let anything happen to you.”

  Even if it means his life, she realized. It was a reality that had been there all along. Yet now it was suddenly in her face, impossible to ignore. If not for her, he wouldn’t be here now, in this awful, no-options-left situation. He wouldn’t be taking this chance, risking injury or mutilation or worse….

  Her heart thudding, Lilah turned to face him, not sure where to start but knowing that she had to. “Dominic?”

  “What?”

  “Just in case this doesn’t work out, I want you to know I wouldn’t trade these last few days for anything. Or change anything that happened.”

  Gaze firmly locked on their flight path, he reached over and gave her thigh a comforting pat. “Come on now, princess, quit worrying. I mean it. We’ll be in the air in just a minute.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. But if something does go wrong, I want you to know—” she stopped to breathe, then slowly lifted her chin “—you’re the finest man I’ve ever known. I love you. I love everything you are and everything about you, and I always will.”

  Except for the steady roar of the engine, the cockpit suddenly seemed very quiet as he glanced over at her, his hand on her leg now very still. For one endless second their gazes meshed. But before she could decide what was in his eyes—shock, dismay, joy?—a crosswind caught the plane, making it bounce sideways.

  He jerked his attention back to the task at hand. “Like I said.” He twisted the knob marked “Fuel Mix” a fraction. “Everything will work out. Trust me. Now give me a minute here to concentrate, okay?”

  Was it just her imagination or was his voice just a fraction less warm than it had been moments earlier?

  He made one last adjustment to the flaps, then squared his shoulders and pushed the throttle forward the last inch. Dead ahead, the boat continued to come, getting larger and larger the closer the two crafts got.

  “I do trust you,” she whispered. And unable to do anything else, Lilah closed her eyes and prayed.

  Twelve

  L ilah considered her reflection in the dressing room mirror.

  Not great, she decided, frowning at the faint shadow of exhaustion smudging her eyes, the angry-looking scab running down the ball of her shoulder, the still visible bruises on her arms courtesy of the Las Rocas guards’ rough handling.

  Then again, she didn’t look totally awful either. Her time in the sun had given her hair a streaky look that would cost a fortune to duplicate in a salon and enough of a tan that her eyes looked bluer than usual. What’s more, all the walking and running had added a pleasing touch of definition to the sleek muscles of her arms and legs.

  There was also nothing quite like a long bath, access to toiletries and makeup, plus ownership of a new dress worn over a red satin bra and matching thong panties, all hastily purchased at the hotel boutique, to give a girl a glow.

  She’d do, she concluded. And that was saying a lot considering that eight hours earlier she hadn’t been sure she’d live to see another day, much less ever again be in a position to worry about something as trivial as what shade of lipstick to wear….

  She squeezed her eyes shut, the plush cocoon of the Royal Meridian’s finest guest cottage fading away as she recalled that headlong charge across Santa Marita Bay, the sunlight flashing on the water, the float plane going faster and faster. And Dominic, with courage to burn, as solid and steady as a rock, refusing to flinch as El Presidente’s speedboat filled more and more of the plane’s windshield. His eyes had been steely with concentration as he repeatedly checked the airspeed, waiting, waiting, waiting before he finally eased back on the yoke.

  Lilah’s pulse fluttered at the remembered feel of the plane lifting out of the water into a steep climb that had pushed her back against her seat, leaving gravity and her stomach behind. Nor was she likely to ever forget how, once they were airborne, Dominic had made a lazy circle, bringing the plane back around so she could see for herself the great El Presidente, thrashing and bellowing in the water like a crazed crocodile as his bodyguards struggled to haul him back into the boat.

  Dominic had then shared the news that when the dictator’s nerve had finally broke and he’d frantically flung himself overboard—a sight she’d missed because she’d been too afraid to look—he’d executed a truly world-class belly flop.

  Lilah’s mouth quirked with residual glee at the thought. But when she considered the rest of their flight, her mirth quickly evaporated. Because, during those brief times when he hadn’t been occupied on the radio talking to his brothers or the air traffic controllers or various Puerto Castillo authorities, Dominic had told her a few other things, as well.

  He’d warned that due to certain circumstances—the plane being stolen, the identity of its rightful owner, the fact that Lilah had neither passport nor papers—their arrival was going to cause a flap.

  He’d told her that upon touchdown, they’d most likely be detained, separated and interviewed, but he’d been confident it wouldn’t take too long to sort things out. He’d explained that once they were released, he’d have some additional details he’d need to take care of, so she should go on to the hotel and he’d call her when he could.

  Which he had, nearly an hour ago. He’d said he was on his way, claimed to be starved and asked if she was up for dinner.

  The one thing he hadn’t said—not then or on the plane or at any time in between—was that he loved her.

  That was okay, Lilah quickly assured herself. She hadn’t revealed her feelings to him because she expected a declaration in return. Not that she wouldn’t relish having him take her in his arms and look at her with those Garden of Eden green eyes and declare that he loved her and couldn’t live without her—

  Stop it. Don’t make yourself crazy about something you can’t control.

  Because when it came right down to it, she could live without hearing the words if she needed to. What she couldn’t live without was Dominic—in her life, in her arms, filling her heart with his presence. As long as they were together, nothing else mattered. This time around, she was determined not to rush things, to give their relationship the time—the chance—it deserved.

  The soft peal of the door chime made her heart leap. Dropping the lipstick wand onto the countertop, she rubbed her lips together to distribute the clear coat of gloss as she hurried eagerly into the other room. Her feet were so light her high heels made only the faintest tapping sound as she sailed across the tiled entry.

  She opened the door. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.

  Freshly shaved and showered, dressed in fitted jeans, a spotless white cotton shirt open at the collar and a beautifully tailored navy linen sport coat with the sleeves shoved up his tanned forearms, Dominic looked superb.

  “Wow,” she said softly.

  His eyes crinkled. “Wow, yourself.” He sp
ent a long moment looking at her, his gaze sliding unhurriedly from the top of her head down the length of her softly clinging red halter dress to her bare legs and the strappy high-heeled sandals that showed off her newly painted cherry-red toenails. Finally, his gaze came back to her face. “You look…incredible.”

  With a soft, giddy laugh that had nothing to do with the compliment and everything to do with his presence, she surrendered to impulse. Stepping across the threshold, she went up on tiptoe and cupped his face in her hands. “I missed you.”

  She kissed him then, her lips clinging to his as she drank him in. “I needed that,” she confessed when they finally came up for air. She realized then, as she leaned against him, soaking up his heat and scent and strength, that some part of her that had been strung tight during their brief separation had finally relaxed. “I needed you.”

  Taking his arm, she led him inside, and deliberately lightened her tone. “When did you shower? And where? You look fabulous, but I thought you’d come straight here to do that—”

  “Whoa,” he said with a laugh, reeling her in for another quick kiss. “Easy, baby. Slow down. One thing at a time. I stopped by my room—” he glanced around, his sharp eyes taking note of the opulent decor and the private pool beyond the veranda “—which is nice but doesn’t come close to this.”

  His room? “But I thought—”

  “What?”

  She caught herself. She hadn’t actually thought at all, she realized. She’d just assumed they’d be sharing a room. Yet she supposed there must be a reason, perhaps something to do with his business, why that wasn’t a good idea. Even if she couldn’t imagine what it might be….

  It wasn’t important, she admonished herself. He was here, now, and that was what mattered. She smiled. “It’s nothing. I’m just glad to see you.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”