Beautiful Sacrifice: A Novel

by Elizabeth Lowell

  “You loved your wife,” she said.

  There was a taut silence, a near-silent rush of breath, and then Hunter spoke in a neutral voice. “I got Pauline pregnant when I was eighteen and she was seventeen.” He smiled thinly. “Sometimes the party lasts longer than the party hat.”

  Lina waited. Hunter didn’t show anything on his exterior, but she sensed the cost of every word he said.

  “Little Suzanne was the light in my life,” he said after a moment. “Four years later Pauline told me I wasn’t Suzanne’s sperm donor. Her boyfriend was out of jail and she wanted a divorce so she could live with the man she loved. I didn’t want to let go of Suzanne, but I believed a child had a right to live with her father and mother. The three of them lived on alimony and child support until the drugged-out son of a bitch met a long-haul rig head-on at over one hundred miles an hour. The trucker got a few broken bones. Pauline and Suzanne died instantly. Her lover took a week to die. I hope he hurt like hell on fire every second of it.”

  Lina didn’t know what to say, so she simply watched Hunter methodically tear off more slipcovers from the furniture.

  “I didn’t particularly love my wife, but I loved my little girl,” he said finally. “How about you? Any great loves in your life?”

  She had to swallow several times before she answered. His neutral voice and seething emotions made her want to weep.

  “No,” she said. “No loves great or small. Living north of the border for seven months a year and south of the border the rest of time…” She shrugged. “When I was old enough to live on my own, I was too hooked on the thrill of the digs to worry about spending quality time on anything else.”

  Silently Hunter folded slipcovers and put them in a tiny hall closet. He wasn’t about to say the truth out loud: he was glad she hadn’t found a man, married, and settled down before he had ever known her.

  Lina studied the furniture. Unlike life, it was all clean lines and smooth surfaces. The colors were solid earth tones and blacks, as if the clock had stopped at a very fashionable 1954 and never started again.

  “The bedrooms are back here,” Hunter said. “We’ll need to get into town early and buy clothes and supplies.”

  “And then what?”

  “See what my ICE contacts and my uncles come up with.”

  “I should be at the family estate soon,” Lina said. “I promised Mother and Abuelita.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing your family home.”

  Silently she absorbed the fact that Hunter assumed he was going with her. She started to object, but didn’t. Everyone was always harping on how she should bring a man home to meet the family.

  Hunter was all man.

  “No argument?” he asked.

  “We have to assume the objects came from the Yucatan,” she said.

  “Looks like it. More important, the tools who tried to grab you came from there. Right now I’m as worried about you as I am about Jase.”

  Lina gave Hunter a startled look. “Jase is in more danger.”

  “He’s under guard in the hospital. His family is under guard. He’s safer than you are.”

  “Under guard?”

  “I talked to Stu Brubaker, Jase’s boss. I told him straight up that he had sent Jase blindfolded into a firefight, and if anything else happened to him, Brubaker’s political ass was on my firing line.”

  She looked at Hunter’s eyes and saw the predator she had always sensed beneath his easy movements. It didn’t worry her. Life had taught her that it was better to have a predator with her than against her.

  Predators were strong enough to be gentle.

  “I bet the boss didn’t like that,” Lina said.

  “From me, no, but he got to the bottom line even before I called. He put the guards on Jase and his family. Right now Brubaker is backdating files to make it clear that Jase was officially working undercover for him on a very politically sensitive project.”

  “Wasn’t he?”

  “In a back-door kind of way. The files make it up front, which means that Jase was shot in the line of duty. Uncle Sam will take care of the bills. Every last penny of them. If Jase comes out of this injury less than one hundred percent, he’ll get full disability whether he stays in the field or not. Jase’s choice.”

  She cleared her throat. “Sounds like you and Brubaker had quite a chat.”

  “In our family, we call it a come-to-Jesus talk. Brubaker’s a good man underneath the bureaucracy. It shook him hard to see Ali and the kids. Reminded him that more than an attaboy from the vice president was at stake in this sorry game. And Brubaker’s plenty savvy enough to know that his career is gone if he doesn’t take real good care of Jase.”

  “So he won’t fire Jase over the artifacts even if they aren’t found?”

  “Not while I’m on watch. Brubaker and I have a Mexican standoff on that subject. If my guess is right, he’s quietly twisting arms to get his hands on some objects that are close enough to pass at the repatriation ceremony. Since we’re talking truckloads of goods already slated to be handed over, and there was no hoo-ha over Jase’s artifacts in the first place, it should work.”

  “Then you don’t need me anymore. Jase’s job is safe.” Lina’s voice dried up as she looked into Hunter’s eyes. They were intense, focused solely on her.

  Hunter shook his head. “Sweetheart, you couldn’t be more wrong. You’re not going anywhere alone until I know who and what this El Maya dude is. He pulled the trigger on your kidnapping. And Jase.”

  “My family has bodyguards,” she pointed out. “Everyone with money in Mexico does.”

  He nodded. “Ever think that some of the money your family has might not be clean, and that’s a reason for you to worry and for men to be after you?”

  She bit back her first response, which was a snarling denial. Finally she said, “I’ve never believed that my family was involved in anything truly illegal.”

  Breathing in Lina’s scent, Hunter waited.

  The silence drove her to speak. “Celia sometimes lives on the thinnest edge of legal, but she knows how not to fall off. My father could make a fortune skimming artifacts, but he’s too obsessive about them to let them out of his hands. As long as the family supports his digs, he has no reason to risk the black market for money. Being in charge of a dig is all Philip really cares about.”

  “Okay. Abuelita sounds a little old to be actively involved in the illegal artifact or drug trade.”

  Lina smiled. “Especially when I call her chichi, which is Mayan for ‘grandmother.’ She’s my mother’s grandmother.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “If you researched the family, I’m sure you know Carlos was a small-time drug dealer/user back when he was called Carlitos. Abuelita put a stop to that little rebellion. Carlos cleaned up and began doing manual labor for Philip on the digs. When Carlos was old enough to be respected and respectable, he took over running the family cement business. Ultimately, he became a successful cross-border businessman and a respected amateur Mayanist.” Lina faced Hunter directly. “Am I missing anyone on your mental suspect list? Just give me their names and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “Simon Crutchfeldt,” Hunter said.

  She blinked with surprise but didn’t miss a beat. “One of Celia’s best clients. He both collects and resells.”

  “Reputation?”

  “Depends on who you talk to,” Lina said.

  “I’m talking to you.”

  “I don’t like him professionally or personally.”

  “Has Crutchfeldt ever been arrested?” Hunter asked.

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Would he be a likely receiver of Jase’s missing artifacts?”

  “He’s too smart to keep them,” Lina said. “He’s not obsessive like Philip or true collectors.”

  “How about being a go-between?”

  She let out a long breath. She really didn’t like some of Celia’s clientele. People like Crutch
feldt were why. “It’s possible that Crutchfeldt is a middleman for illegal transactions.”

  “Anything is possible,” Hunter said. “How about probable?”

  Lina felt like she was being harried into a corner. “All right. Yes. My mother deals with some despicable people. Crutchfeldt is one of them.”

  Callused male fingertips brushed over Lina’s lips. “Easy, sweetheart. I’m not attacking you or your family.”

  “It sure feels like it.”

  “Nobody’s one hundred percent pure,” he said. “Nobody. Once you accept that, life gets a lot easier.”

  “Tell that to Caesar’s wife,” she shot back.

  Hunter’s smile was a flash of warmth stroking her.

  “Such beautiful eyes,” he said, “hot as sin and sweeter than an angel. I’m sure glad you aren’t married. Real glad.”

  Lina felt the ground shift under her feet. His words, the touch of his fingers on her lips, his smile, everything about him kept her unsettled.

  “Hunter, what are you doing to me?”

  “Not near as much as either of us would like.” Reluctantly he withdrew his touch from her soft, warm lips. “Damn. We’re both too tired for what I hope you want.”

  Deliberately she looked at the fit of his jeans. “You don’t look too tired.”

  “I should be. The last two weeks have been hell. Except for you.”

  “Go to bed. I’d hate to have you fall asleep before the, er, main event.”

  Hunter’s laughter was even warmer than his smile. She couldn’t help laughing, too.

  Then his mouth was over hers, his arms pulling her against every hard inch of his body. She hadn’t known she was still cold until she felt his heat. She gave herself to his kiss, the hot strokes of his tongue, to him. He tasted of night and coffee, salt and man, a storm in the tropics. Her fingers clenched in his hair, holding him closer, afraid he was a dream that would vanish between one breath and the next.

  “This is stupid,” he said finally against her lips.

  “I know.” She burrowed closer, nipping his chin.

  With a groan, he stepped away from her. “Help me, here. I’m trying to do the right thing.”

  She licked her lips. “You felt right to me.” Then she shook her head like a dog coming out of water.

  “Feeling bushwhacked?” he asked wryly.

  “Yes. What is it about you? I’m not like this. I don’t just jump into a man’s arms because I like the way he looks.”

  “I’d love to take credit for it, sweetheart, but it wouldn’t be true. Adrenaline is the most underrated drug on the market. Worse than booze for tempting people to break their own rules. So I’ll make you a deal. You look at me like that in the morning and I’ll jump you right back.”

  She closed her eyes, carefully not looking at him. Then she sighed, knowing he was right. “Tomorrow.” It felt like forever to her.

  His glance went over her like ghostly hands.

  “To hell with it,” he said, pulling her back to him. “It’s already tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LINA CAME TO HUNTER EVEN AS HE PULLED HER CLOSER. She breathed out his name when her mouth found his, seeking. The perfume of plumeria and their own scents and the smell of the ocean mixed into something primal, hot, like their kiss. She wasn’t used to wanting a man like this, mind and body savagely insisting, explosive heat and chills and a moan that she couldn’t believe was hers.

  “Be sure, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely after he broke the kiss. His mouth nibbled and nipped over her beautiful cheekbones, her lips. “You’re so vulnerable right now.”

  “And you aren’t?” she challenged.

  Her hips moved over his erection, setting fire to everything.

  “I’ve been hard since the first time I saw you.” His voice was more a growl than words. “You get to me like no one since…”

  “Pauline?”

  Deliberately his teeth closed over Lina’s full bottom lip. “We were teenagers. More hormones than brains. The way you reach into me as an adult scares me almost as much as it turns me on.”

  She pulled back a little, just enough to see his eyes clearly. Black rims around the iris, shards of silver and blue of every shade radiating out from the pupil, an intensity that staggered her.

  “It’s the same for me,” she said. “I need you in too many ways. I don’t know how to handle the other needs, but this one…” She arched into him again. “This one can be satisfied.”

  Hunter’s smile was slow and hot. “We sure can try.”

  He looked at her for a long moment while the air crackled between them, lamplight poured over them, and bright dust motes pulsed around them with each breath. The electric dance of the pulse in her neck and the smell of her skin filled him as surely as Suzanne’s death had emptied him. Suddenly everything inside Hunter was too strong, too much to be held by his skin. He needed something else surrounding him, holding him deep.

  He needed Lina.

  His mouth pressed hard against hers, as demanding as his arms pulling her so close they breathed each other. His fingers ran though the black tide of her hair and he groaned with the perfection of her—hot, woman, his.

  Lina’s fingertips dug into Hunter’s back as they fought a sensual battle for control of the embrace. Neither won. Both won. His skin beneath his shirt was tight, hard, yet supple over muscles in a way that shouted he was male. She gloried in it, demanded it, let her hips move against him, and shuddered at the wonder of it. When one of his legs shifted to press between her thighs, breath hissed in. Hers. His. Both.

  He turned and braced her against the wall even as her arms locked around him in demand. Their mouths ate at each other, sucked, savored, devoured, needing more and always more. She tried to say something, anything, but all she managed were throaty sounds of hunger and pleasure.

  “You—I—we—” Her mind scattered when he bit her neck with exquisite care.

  “Oh yeah.” His voice was deep, hoarse. “Us. Damn, sweetheart. It’s going to be so good. You want us straight up now or in the bed as fast as we can get there?”

  She gave him a dazed look, eyes huge and dark with gold flashing unexpectedly when the light caught her just right.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he said roughly.

  “I—it’s you.” She shook her head and fought to breathe. “Bed. I can barely stand up.”

  “Your knees hurt?” Hunter asked, concern shadowing the fire in his body.

  “What knees?” she asked with an odd laugh. “It’s not the bruises making me shaky. It’s you.”

  He bent to kiss her hard and deep, but stopped. If he started here, they wouldn’t get to bed the first time. Hell, maybe even the second.

  He breathed out a rough word. “You’re killing me here.”

  She glanced down his body and smiled, feeling less shaky, less blindsided by the heat burning through her.

  “Those jeans look tight enough to bruise.” Lina’s hands reached for the steel buttons on his fly. “Let me see if you’re hurt.”

  With a strangled laugh, he grabbed her hands and led her down a short hallway. The bedroom was like the house, small. Or maybe it was the bed that took up more than its share of the room.

  Before Lina could draw a breath, Hunter dropped her in the middle of the mattress and followed her down, landing over her in a sprawl of muscle and heat.

  “Gotcha,” he said.

  She smiled and slid one hand between their bodies to find him, rub against him, digging her fingernails into denim, flesh hot and hard beneath, and his breath shuddered. “Gotcha right back.”

  “I’m trying to slow down.”

  “I’ll tell you if you go too fast.”

  “Promise?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  She barely got the word out before his long fingers had the business jacket off her shoulders and down to her elbows. He tugged her blouse out of the matching slacks. She tried to help him, but kept getting distracted by
her own need to get his clothes off so that she could enjoy him. The fact that her jacket was around her elbows didn’t help. She felt her bra suddenly loosen and then his mouth was on her, licking and nibbling at her breasts. When he sucked one nipple into his mouth, her back arched and she twisted beneath him.

  Reluctantly Hunter released her nipple, his tongue teasing every bit of the way. “Too hard?”

  “Get me out of this damn jacket,” she said, trying to work the sleeves down her arms.

  “You sure?” Hunter looked at her full breasts framed by her pushed-up blouse and her crumpled jacket. Her dark, hard nipples swayed with each breath, each movement. “You look damn good just the way you are.”

  He leaned down and nipped gently, then sucked her deep.

  “Jacket,” she gasped.

  He lifted his mouth. “Can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Your hands are in my jeans.”

  She made a startled sound and realized he was right. Both of her hands were inside the waistband of his pants, rubbing over the thick crest that was even now damp with his hunger for her.

  “Help me, Hunter.” Her voice was breathless, needy.

  He reached down with one hand and tugged at metal buttons. Suddenly her fingers had freedom to move over his full, aching length.

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” she said breathlessly. “But it’s good.”

  Hunter groaned at her hungry caresses. Then he moved fast, stripping off her jacket and blouse, sending them flying with her bra onto the floor. He lowered his head again to the curves that had aroused him from the first time he had sensed them beneath the prim professor clothes.

  “Your boots are still on,” she said.

  And her hands circled his erection, squeezed, and approved from base to tip.

  “Keep that up,” he said, “and they’ll still be on when I’m inside you.”

  “Too fast?” she asked. Her voice was like her hands, hot and teasing.

  “Just warning you.”