Warrior Without Rules

by Nancy Gideon

  And her personal life wasn’t settling any better than her professional one.

  The meeting went on throughout the morning and into the early afternoon. Her mind should have been consumed with the changes they were about to undertake, but her traitorous thoughts kept drifting to the impassive guard at the door. She never looked his way, fearing her co-workers would make too much of it…or that Zach Russell would.

  His actions of that morning confused her. He’d all but run from the bonding intimacies they’d shared at dinner, on the beach, in her bed. It would be one thing if she’d initiated a closeness he didn’t appreciate. But he’d given her no sign that he didn’t welcome every wonderful thing that had transpired from sand to sheets. Was it because he woke to the new day with a renewed dedication to his cause? Or did discovery by Veta and Mateo expose more of their relationship, as well as his attributes, than he was ready to have made public?

  Either way, for whatever reason, he’d thrown the hated Rule Three back into the mix and her pride would not allow her to make any of the objections that teethed upon her heart.

  The issue with Zach Russell would just have to wait until business with Aletta was concluded.

  So how to deal with him until then?

  Preoccupation seemed to work. She refused to let her attention be drawn from concern over the night’s meeting with Premiero. She returned to the suite to take a brutally cold shower and change from tough executive to tougher prospective partner, opting for baggy cargo shorts and a black tank top instead of the respectful feminine attire that would appease Premiero’s macho traditionalism. She didn’t want him to think she was desperate to impress him or overly concerned with his opinions. She would approach him as an equal, as the new head of Aletta, as the daughter of his friend, as someone to be negotiated with, not bulldozed over. And for that to succeed, she couldn’t be distracted by a certain British bodyguard.

  He made it easy for her by remaining as far in the background as possible, by not addressing her, by becoming all but invisible. Yet her senses still thrummed with her awareness of him.

  He rode in the front seat of the car, next to Tomas, giving her VIP status in the back. And on that big black leather seat, she’d never felt so alone.

  The marina in Ixtapa bristled with the masts of elegant sailboats and stood hull to hull with sleek yachts. Its calm waters sheltered by a ring of mountains, it provided a parking lot for the rich at the doorway to the resort community. As the sun glazed the surrounding hills in reds and golds, Toni sipped a glass of wine from under the canopy of a water’s-edge restaurant. Sinking daylight dazzled off the water and from the side of the ultramodern building that had meticulously muraled sides painted to reflect a mirror image of the harbor.

  It was quiet, the lazy blanket of humidity settling in with the clouds atop the far range. On the nearby deck of one of the huge pleasure boats, a senior citizen in garish plaid shorts was polishing the gleaming rails while his toy poodle raced along the length of the craft yipping at something in the water.

  At first, Toni thought it was the birds who swooped down to make quick work of the crusty bread bits she tossed for them that excited the little dog. Then she noticed a long irregular shape drifting on the languorous current. Garbage floating in this luxury playground? She didn’t think so. Shading her eyes, she detected four distinct segments beginning with a small noblike protrusion, then a broad flat surface, another slightly mounded shape then a spiky ridge that lazily ruddered through the water to guide the object between the boats. The greedy birds scattered and the dog’s barking intensified. It was then she realized what she was watching. A prehistoric predator serenely navigating the glassy surface as if it wasn’t out of place amid the affectations of the rich.

  “Premiero.”

  Toni frowned, thinking Zach’s soft spoken remark referred to the bold crocodile as it drifted out of sight behind one of the moored seventy-four-footers. She glanced up to see a figure approaching down the dock, framed by the glare of the setting sun, and knew him instinctively. Another predator, not so different from his cold-blooded brethren hunting amongst the wealthy.

  Angel Premiero was very much her father’s peer. He had the same arrogant stride, wore the same expensive suits and had the same toothy smile that never lit the flat sheen of his dark eyes. A crocodile in Armani shoes.

  “Antonia, how beautiful you are,” he called in a voice that had yet to shed the heavy accent the way her father’s had. “So grown up, yet I still see the mischievous child in the lovely woman you’ve become.”

  He boarded the floating dining platform, followed by four of his personal aides and the entire fawning staff of the establishment. He gave Russell a quick assessing notice as the bodyguard abandoned his seat for him. Then he was all icy charm as his attention turned back to Toni.

  “So like your mother.”

  “Thank you, Señor Premiero.”

  “It used to be Uncle Angie,” he chided, settling into the seat across from her.

  “That was before I grew up.”

  His smile never faltered. “So like your mother.” That didn’t sound quite like a compliment. “Thank you for coming to meet me.”

  “It was the very least I could do for my father’s oldest friend.” The very least.

  “And your new partner.”

  She dodged the issue by saying, “We have much to talk about.”

  They shared a glass of wine while she filled him in on her father’s health and activities. She purposefully skirted any twists in the conversation that might lead toward business. There would be time for that tomorrow. Tonight, she wanted to get a sense of the man.

  And it didn’t take her long to dislike the feeling that settled over her, the same one that had the little poodle barking wildly at a danger it didn’t understand but recognized intuitively.

  Time didn’t allow for much reminiscing and soon Tomas was chauffeuring them back to the Royale for the evening’s meet and greet.

  Toni dressed carefully, not as a CEO, but, for this evening, as a woman taking full advantage of that fact. She told herself it was to impress Premiero, but another small nagging voice whispered it was because she wanted to feel the appreciative heat of Zach Russell’s stare.

  He remained distant and on duty even after they returned to the suite. By the time she emerged from the bathroom, he was already sleekly clad in evening wear with the diamond glinting roguishly in his earlobe. He could pretend uninterest with his stance, but there was no disguising the ravenous quality of his quick once-over sweep.

  The dress was a stunner, sophisticated, classically sexy. The slinky black fabric poured down from spaghetti straps, sliding over her curves like a lover’s hands and accentuating the length of her legs with the slenderizing sweep of its floor-length cut. A sassy touch of jade green peeked from the edging of the fluid neckline and flirted underneath the side-draped swag of fabric rippling down from her left hip. A sheer black scarf looped about a neck dramatically bared by her glossy updo and the elegant sparkle of emerald stud earrings. Bold siren hues enhanced lips, eyes and brows, giving her a forties screen star quality both glamorous and ultra feminine.

  “Ready?” Zach managed at last, once he could pry his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

  “Willing and able,” she concluded, offering her elbow.

  The event was in full swing by the time Zach released her at the door. Part of her longed to stay at his side, protected by his nearness, emboldened by his presence. However, she didn’t hesitate to stride into the mix, chin lifted with a conquering attitude as she zeroed in on Premiero.

  He regarded her with a look she was well familiar with. It was very traditional, almost insultingly chauvinistic, that possessing, undressing look. The women-as-objects assessment her father gave to members of the opposite sex. A look meant to flatter but often had a different agenda, one that was demeaning and domineering. One her mother had never tolerated because, she’d told Toni at a young age, it made her f
eel less human, less equal. And she’d taught her only daughter never to accept less.

  “Señor Premiero, good evening. Thank you for inviting me as your guest.”

  She extended her hand but instead of shaking it, he carried it in courtly fashion to his lips. His greying mustache was almost obscenely soft against her knuckles.

  Toni withdrew her hand firmly, her smile razor-sharp. His, contrarily, was smug with the knowledge that he’d unsettled her. Then he studied her more closely.

  “You didn’t like my gift? It displeases me that you chose not to wear it.”

  Her fingertips went to her adornment-free throat. Her tone was as sharp as those bits of silver cutting into the base of her neck. “As it displeases me that it’s part of an assault investigation.”

  “My aide told me there was an unfortunate incident.” He made a tsking sound but his stare remained unmoved by the thought of her near tragedy.

  “Unfortunate is a rather odd word to use regarding an attempt on my life.”

  “Had it been someone’s intention to kill you, don’t you believe they would have succeeded?”

  She met his unblinking stare with an unwavering directness. “And what do you think the intention was?”

  “In my country, it is almost always more beneficial to use intimidation. Murder is so…final.”

  “But an occasional occupational necessity, is that it?”

  His smile spread like an oil leak. “Why, Antonia, what kind of business is it that you think I do?”

  “A purely hypothetical question.”

  “Then, yes. I suppose it is an unfortunate solution to some problems.”

  “There’s that word unfortunate again.”

  “What’s the quote? Fortune favors the bold?”

  Was he standing there bold as a brass band admitting that he’d orchestrated the attack on her at her father’s home? Was he even going so far as to insinuate that the outcome could become deadly if she didn’t capitulate?

  She fought the sudden chill of dread tiptoeing across her bared skin. With her smile firmly in place, she cast a covert glance about the room, seeking the reassuring sight of Zach Russell. Russell would know what to make of Premiero’s slick remarks.

  But she found she wasn’t the focus of her bodyguard’s attention.

  He was by the entry doors speaking to a woman whose back was to her. A sleek back nearly bared by the daring plunge of her silver evening gown. He was smiling at whatever she said and something in his expression seized Toni’s heart in an anxious crush. The woman’s hand rubbed the sleeve of his jacket in a blatantly familiar gesture, one he didn’t attempt to evade.

  And as Toni watched, her emotions knotting, a room key was passed from the elegant redhead to her usually stoic bodyguard.

  The exchange was quick, discreet. Like a thin blade slipping between the ribs in search of a vital organ.

  The woman left the party. Zach waited a moment, two, then approached Veta who was sipping a cocktail while entertaining the amorous intentions of some young executive with an amused glint in her eyes. As Zach spoke to her, her gaze flashed up to where Toni stood and she nodded. Toni recognized the signal. The ball had been passed. She was now in Veta’s hands.

  Freeing Russell to abandon his post, room key in hand, in pursuit of someone else.

  “Darling, it’s been far too long.”

  Zach returned the embrace, enduring the hurried kisses with a good-natured grin until she stood back to scrutinize him.

  “You’re too thin. You haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

  “And look at you in that dress,” he countered. “Are you out to snag me a new stepdad, Mum?”

  She rapped him under the chin. “Cheeky boy. I’ve buried a husband and outlived two stepfathers. I think I’ve retired from the marriage business. I seem to be a bad investment.”

  “No man looking at you in that dress would think so.”

  “That’s because men tend to think with the wrong organ, dear.”

  Zach laughed at his mother’s typical straightforwardness. But he hadn’t lied. Cecilia Roberts at sixty-two was as fit and firm as a woman twenty years younger. It came from a life of constant motion. At work, at play and rarely at rest, she was a dynamo of enviable success. But the one thing she desired most continued to elude her. And Zach knew it would only be a matter of time before she reminded him of it.

  “I didn’t know you were coming down for this, Mum. I would have met you at the airport.”

  “I only just decided when I found out you were here.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And how did you find out I was here?”

  Her expression was blameless. “Jack told me.”

  “Good old Jack. And what else did he happen to let slip?”

  “Don’t be cross with Jack, darling. He is your best friend and has your best interests at heart.”

  “Really? And what has that to do with you being here?”

  “You never used to be this suspicious,” she scolded, avoiding the question.

  “You never used to give me a reason. Give over, Mum. What mission are you on?”

  “A purely selfish endeavor, I confess. I may have gone out of the marriage business, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less interested in becoming a full-time grandmother.” She turned toward the mirror over her dresser on the pretext of checking her flawless makeup. But it was to covertly gauge his reaction to her outrageous claim.

  Zach groaned. Here it comes. “I’m not here looking for a bride, Mother.” The formal address advised her that he was irritated and that she’d gone too far.

  She was unimpressed.

  “I know you’re not looking. Because she’s here.”

  He stood, mind boggled by her deductive stretch of logic. “Who?”

  “That girl, the one you risked your career for. The one that’s made you fierce and rather unpleasant for the last ten years. She’s the reason you’re here and the reason I’ve come to talk to you since you can’t seem to find the time to visit me for chat.”

  He felt the required guilt over her last statement, but that made him no less prickly about her interference—and Chaney’s—in his personal affairs.

  “I am here on a job. Don’t read more into it than that.”

  “Dear, a blind man could read more into it than that. And no, Jack didn’t have to tell me anything. I could see it in your eyes after it happened. You made yourself responsible because of what you allowed yourself to feel for her. Is that why you’re here, Zachary? Because you think you owe her something? Or is it because of something you think you might owe yourself? Like a chance at what your father and I had.”

  He shut down all emotion, all expression but it was too late to disavow a truth she already seemed to know.

  “It’s a job, Mum. There’s nothing more in it for me. There never will be.”

  “Because you’re not finished punishing me yet?”

  Her remark hit like a rabbit punch. “Whatever do you mean by that?” He could see by the way her eyes welled up in long unspoken misery that this went far beyond the nonexistent grandchildren.

  “If your father hadn’t been in such a hurry to meet me, he wouldn’t have been so careless. And he would still be alive. And you blame me for that. And him.”

  “I never said that.”

  “No. You never said anything in words. You let your actions speak for you. In the way you live your life by such strict, unbending guidelines, by shutting yourself off from anything that could distract you from your duty. By the way you wear the diamond from your father’s ring and continue his causes like some holy crusade. And because he failed to keep himself safe, you’re possessed with this need to protect the rest of the world from similar folly, starting with yourself.”

  He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He could only stand, frozen in place, listening to her dice his noble ambitions into inconsequential pieces.

  “But something in this girl made you think about more than duty. She
made you glance off that path of self-righteousness for just one moment and in that moment, the inconceivable happened. And now you think you’re to blame for whatever she suffered because you took a moment to consider a different road. That’s bunk, Zachary, sheer nonsense, and I cannot believe I’ve allowed you to get away with wallowing in such unbecoming self-pity for so long.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?”

  The frigid civility in his tone warned her to tread carefully should she decide to continue in the reckless direction she’d chosen. She gentled her approach but refused to relent.

  “And you’re doing it badly. You were in love with this girl and you figured with typical male arrogance that if you repaid your debt of guilt, you’d be free of those feelings. I can tell by your bad manners that you’ve found that not to be the case. Am I right?”

  “What if it’s not? What if I do have feelings for her and because I’m so busy mooning over her, someone slips past me and snuffles out her life? I won’t take that risk. I won’t pay that price.”

  “It can’t be the job and the job alone for the rest of your life. You can’t make up for your father’s momentary lack of caution or for your own brief human failing by living up to some impossible standard that will deny you any chance of happiness.”

  “Maybe I’m willing to forgo that happiness for the sake of seeing her safe from harm.”

  She considered that for a long moment then said, “Is she willing to do the same? Is it fair of you not to ask her that question before you go making all the decisions for your future without her?”

  When he wouldn’t respond, she sighed heavily but not in surrender. “How long are you going to stay angry with us?”

  “I’m not.”

  “You’re so angry you can’t even admit the truth to yourself. And because you can’t express that anger to him and, thank heavens you’re too respectful to take it out on me, you have to vent it on any perceived evil the world puts in your way. When will it be enough to satisfy you? When will you stop punishing all of us for not following your rigid rules?”