Trading Secrets

by Jayne Castle

  But he didn’t like the timing. He also didn’t like the way Coyne had tried to have him followed the other night. And he didn’t like the overall feel of the whole situation. It reminded him too much of the night he’d walked into that ambush in the jungle. Matt hoped Mayhill would still be around and that he could be reached. And that he might have an answer to the question Valdez was sending.

  A lot of if’s.

  The jeep was waiting where he had left it. Matt climbed inside and started back toward town. He wondered what Sabrina was doing at that moment. Memories of their last night together made him ache. He badly wished he were back in Dallas about to slide comfortably into bed beside Sabrina.

  He hoped Brad wasn’t making life too difficult for her. The boy had been stunned when Matt had explained he was leaving for Buena Ventura. It had taken hours to clear some of the fear and bitter hurt from Brad’s eyes. But in the end Brad had seemed to believe that his father really did intend to return. Brad had been uneasy about being left behind with Sabrina, however. Just as uneasy as Sabrina had been about having to play a maternal role.

  So many risks, Matt thought. There was the risk that Sabrina would decide she simply didn’t want to become Brad’s stepmother. The risk that she would decide Matt wasn’t worth waiting for. The risk that she would give up on the prospect of building a future with one Matt August, washed-up major and bookstore proprietor.

  She had resisted the idea of his going to Buena Ventura right up until the last minute. But she hadn’t withheld herself that last night. Instead she had given him all the warmth and softness and sweet excitement that was in her. And he had taken it with an urgent aggression that was a translation of his own fierce determination to make the venture succeed.

  What if she changed her mind while he was gone? Matt asked himself grimly as he drove toward town. He wasn’t sure she fully understood how he felt about her. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he understood it himself. The sense of possessiveness was new to him. But he didn’t question it. It existed, and being the pragmatic man he was, Matt accepted it. The only thing he wasn’t certain of was Sabrina’s reaction to finding herself belonging to a man. And him belonging to her. She appeared to have spent a good portion of her life edging away from men who tried to control her. A natural independent. She’d probably get along famously with Valdez.

  Matt’s fingers flexed around the steering wheel. Absently he stretched them out again and then gripped the wheel more tightly. It wasn’t that he wanted to control Sabrina. He just wanted her. Totally. Completely. He had never wanted anything or anyone so totally or completely in his life. He wanted a future, Matt thought. Sabrina and Brad were now his future.

  He just wished he didn’t feel so damn queasy about the situation here on Buena Ventura. It would be nice to be back in Sabrina’s apartment tomorrow morning, stuffing clothes into a washing machine and dragging out the vacuum cleaner and knowing there was forty grand in his bank account.

  The phone rang in Sabrina’s apartment just as she was curling up on the persimmon sofa with a glass of wine and a good book. She glanced at the clock as she reached over to pick up the receiver.

  “It’s Wednesday night, so this must be Jeffrey,” she said brightly.

  “Right first time.” Her brother chuckled. “How are things going, Sabrina?”

  “Just peachy. And you? Foreclosed on any widows and orphans lately?”

  “Not since last Sunday. You know we prefer to save foreclosures until Sundays. We like to move in directly after church.”

  “Your banker’s sense of humor could get you in trouble one day. How’s the kid?”

  “Our new nephew is doing great. When are you going to come out and see him?”

  “Get right to the point, why don’t you, Jeff? I really don’t know when I’ll get out there. One of these days, I imagine,” Sabrina said vaguely. “I’ve got my hands full here at the moment. I told Dad that last Sunday when he called.”

  “You weren’t very clear about just what was keeping you busy, apparently. Dad said something about the IRS?”

  “They’ve been bugging me. Actually sent a couple of guys out to talk to me.”

  “They did?” Jeffrey’s voice abruptly changed to serious concern. “About what?”

  “Something about a penalty payment I’ve been fighting. It’s all over now, though. I got a written apology from them today.”

  “Sabrina, I can’t see the IRS sending two people out to talk to you about a penalty payment.”

  “Harassment. I told them so, too. They backed off. In any event, it’s all over.”

  “So what else is keeping you so busy you can’t come out to see the new addition to the family?”

  “Well, I’ve got an addition to my own family.” There, stew over that one for a while, she thought.

  Astounded silence greeted that remark. “What exactly are you talking about, Sabrina?”

  “I’m taking care of someone’s kid for a month.”

  “Who on earth would leave a child with you for a month?” Jeffrey demanded.

  “A friend.”

  “Sabrina, are we talking about a man friend or a woman friend?”

  “A man.”

  “A good friend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you mind being a little more forthcoming? Who is this friend?”

  “His name is Matt August. He’s out of the country for a while.”

  “Sabrina Chase, if you do something dumb like getting married without telling Dad first, you’ll break his heat and you know it.”

  “To date,” Sabrina said quite firmly, “no one has discussed marriage.”

  “But this Matt August is important to you?”

  Sabrina considered that. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “For God’s sake! Why unfortunately? What’s wrong with him?”

  “What’s wrong with him is that he sometimes exhibits a distressing number of male characteristics.”

  Jeffrey was confused. “Well, if he’s a man, then it seems natural he would, doesn’t it?”

  “Interestingly enough, he tends to use the same excuse.”

  “Sabrina, are you really serious about this guy?”

  “Serious enough to take care of his kid for a month. You know I’m not the maternal type, Jeff.”

  “Most women are maternal once they hold their own babies,” Jeffrey told her with outrageous masculine certainty.

  “That, pal, is a myth put about by men who like the idea of women being tied to home and hearth.”

  “Well, if you’re getting serious about August, you’d better trot him out to Oregon.”

  “So you and Dad and Nolan can look him over? An amusing thought.” Sabrina laughed. “He’s not exactly a banker, you know.”

  “You said he’s out of the country. On business?”

  “Yes,” she agreed diplomatically.

  “Is he with some multi-international? Dad wouldn’t object to a corporate type for you.”

  “He’s not exactly a corporate sort of man,” Sabrina remarked, thinking about it. “But I guess you could say he’s on the cutting edge of his field.”

  “What, precisely, is his field?” Jeffrey asked deliberately.

  “I think he sells used knives or something. Look, Jeff, give my best to everyone and tell them I’ll be out to check over the nephew one of these days. I’ve got to run now. My houseguest will be home soon.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “At the ballet.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s what he said when I told him he was going. Good for him, though. Good night, Jeff.” She hung up the phone as politely as possible and picked up her wineglass.

  Another call from family over and done, Sabrina congratulated herself. It looked like she might have to make that trip to Oregon one of these days, though. If she didn’t she was liable to open the door some morning and find the Brothers Grim and her father standing on the threshold, demanding to look at Matt August.r />
  That might be an interesting confrontation, she thought, sipping the wine slowly.

  She wondered if Brad was enjoying the ballet with Alex. The boy had definitely not been thrilled at the idea. He had grumbled and complained and finally agreed only because Alex cajoled him into it.

  “If it’s really dull, we’ll split in the middle and go to an arcade,” Alex had promised easily. “Or go find a film.”

  Brad had eyed him warily. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Well, all right. Joe Bob Briggs says there’s a great slasher flick playing at one of the drive-ins.”

  “You let him read Job Bob Brigg’s reviews?” Alex interposed sternly.

  “It’s tough trying to censor a curious teenage boy’s reading material,” Sabrina answered, groaning. At least she’d gotten Brad to agree to go to something reasonably cultural. She considered that quite a victory for incipient motherhood.

  But he had dragged his feet about getting ready to leave this evening and in the end he’s given Sabrina a very strange look.

  “What are you going to do while we’re gone, Sabrina?”

  “Nothing. Read a book, watch some television, why?”

  “Just wondered,” Brad mumbled.

  Something clicked. “Wondered about what, Brad?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Brad, what is it? Why are you worried about what I’ll be doing? I’m only going to sit here at home and read.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Brad!” she’d snapped, thoroughly annoyed.

  He’d turned away. “I just wondered if you had a date or something.”

  It all fell into place. “A date!” She’d moved across the living room, putting her hand on his shoulder and turning him around to face her. “Brad, I’m going to spend the evening alone. I’m waiting for your father. I won’t be seeing other men while he’s gone. Is that very clear?”

  But he’d been left at home with his mother in the past and he must have known that Ginny hadn’t waited alone while she waited for Matt. There was no reason to think Brad would trust Sabrina to be loyal to his father.

  “Yeah, sure, it’s clear. There’s the doorbell. It must be Alex.”

  Sabrina had realized as she waved the two of them off in Alex’s silver Porsche that Brad had left unconvinced.

  His lack of faith made her reconsider her own growing sense of allegiance to Matt August. It was not something she could sit down and explain to a thirteen-year-old boy. It wasn’t something she could sit down and explain very well to herself, come to that. She only knew that Brad didn’t have to wonder how she would be spending the evening. Nor did his father.

  That last thought intrigued her. Was Matt chewing nails wondering if she was being faithful, or had he convinced himself that she was committed to him and knew it? For that matter, what made her so certain he wasn’t amusing himself down in Buena Ventura?

  The answer to that had been clear in his eyes the day he had left. He wasn’t down in Buena Ventura to play games. He was there to bankroll a future. Sabrina thought about the way he had made love to her that last night. There had been an almost desperate fierceness in the deeply passionate way he had held her.

  They had slept little that night. Instead they had talked; not about Brad or the danger that might be waiting on Buena Ventura, but about small things that seemed to have no real importance. And then they had made love again shortly before dawn.

  The first night alone after he had left had been more difficult for Sabrina than she would have guessed. It was, after all, not quite the same thing as having one’s mate leave on a casual business trip. The knowledge that Brad was in the apartment brought a strange sense of comfort.

  The sound of Alex’s Porsche pulling into the parking lot in front of the apartment brought Sabrina out of her reverie. Uncurling from the sofa, she went to open the front door.

  In stunned amazement she found herself staring at the two apparitions on her doorstep.

  “My God!” she breathed. “What on earth happened to you?”

  Brad grinned at her, his face smudged and dirty, his jacket torn and his clip-on tie twisted. There were scuff marks on his trousers and his shoes. His hair was in a tangle.

  Alex didn’t look much better; worse, in fact. His lip seemed to be bleeding and he was definitely sporting an eye that was darkening rapidly. His expensive clothes, straight from the pages of Gentlemen’s Quarterly, were torn and stained.

  “Let’s just say the ballet is no longer the last stand of civilization in Texas,” Alex observed.

  Sabrina couldn’t believe her eyes. “You’ve been in a fight, haven’t you?”

  “You should see the other two guys, Sabrina. Alex beat them to a pulp,” Brad declared with relish as he stepped inside the house.

  “Other two guys?” Sabrina said weakly, turning to stare at Alex as she closed the door. “What other two guys?”

  “A couple of redneck cowboys in a pickup truck tried to hassle us as we were walking back to the car in the parking lot,” Alex explained. He walked over to the mirror and checked his appearance. “Ugh. My hairstylist is going to have a fit tomorrow when he sees me. And do you have any idea what this suit cost me?”

  “Both of you sit down and tell me exactly what happened!” Sabrina commanded, coming out of her shock to take charge of the situation.

  “It was nothing, Sabrina,” Brad said with great nonchalance. His hazel eyes were sparkling. “A couple of turkeys in cowboy hats tried to give Alex here a rough time. Called him names.”

  “So you beat them up?” Sabrina demanded.

  “We didn’t beat them up until they got out of the truck and came after us,” Alex explained.

  “Oh, lord!”

  “Ummm. Nasty types.”

  “They called Alex a fag and a queer and a bunch of other stuff. Said I shouldn’t be hanging around him.” Brad plopped down on the sofa. “When Alex told them to go to hell they jumped us. They didn’t know Alex was a karate expert.”

  Sabrina looked at her assistant, dumbfounded. “I didn’t know that, either.”

  “Life is just one surprise after another,” Alex said.

  “Are you both all right?”

  “We’ll live,” Alex mumbled, touching his cut lip.

  “I can’t believe this.” Sabrina sighed. “I send the two of you off for a civilized evening at the ballet and look at the way you come back. Are you sure you’re both all right?” she added worriedly.

  “We’re fine, huh, Alex? Wait’ll I tell Dad what happened!” Brad bounced off the sofa and headed for his bedroom. “I’m going to get out of these stupid clothes. Be right back.”

  Sabrina met Alex’s rueful gaze. “I just can’t believe this.”

  “Be grateful Brad signed up for karate instead of flower arranging.”

  “Did he actually get involved directly in the fight?” she gasped.

  “The two dudes in the pickup seemed to think they had a mission to rescue him froth me. Even though it was pretty dark he wound up landing a few practice blows that helped. Kid’s thrilled to death with himself.”

  “Alex, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I should never have asked you to take him to the ballet tonight.”

  “Working for you does put variety into my life.”

  “Do you think there will be trouble? Are those two rednecks likely to go to the police?” she asked.

  “Are you kidding? A couple of Texas rednecks admitting to the cops that they got beaten up by some guy in a mauve suit who was attending the ballet?”

  “You’ve got a point. Not likely.” A ghost of a smile flickered in Sabrina’s eyes.

  Sometime later after Alex had cleaned up and taken his leave, Sabrina looked up to find Brad studying her intently. “You really did spend the evening here by yourself, didn’t you?”

  “Didn’t I tell you that before you left?” she asked mildly.

  “Well, there’s only one wineglass and there’s on
ly one macaroni-and-cheese TV dinner carton in the garbage, so I guess you were telling the truth,” he admitted.

  “Quite the little detective, aren’t you?”

  Brad hesitated and then said in a small rush, “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “Nothing.”

  Sabrina grinned. “And thus concludes another scintillating conversation with a thirteen-year-old. Go to bed, Brad. It’s late and you’ve had a heck of an evening.”

  The message from Valdez reached Matt at three in the morning. Someday, he decided as he reached out to pick up the phone beside the bed, he would write a scientific paper on why crisis calls always came at three A.M.

  “Hello?”

  “The operation was not a success,” a strange voice informed him in Spanish. “The patient died.”

  Matt hung up the phone and lay staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. The message he had asked Valdez to send to Mayhill through the firm on Flores de Noche had been intercepted.

  The prospects of a fast forty thousand were deteriorating rapidly.

  Chapter Eight

  “Love the boots, Alex.” Sabrina gazed in stunned admiration as her assistant strolled into the shop precisely one minute late the next morning.

  “Shit-kicker boots,” Alex explained breezily. “After last night I figure I’m entitled.”

  The boots were indeed a work of art, heavily tooled in a flower pattern and done in turquoise and white with silver tracery.

  “You look pretty good this morning considering what you went through,” Sabrina said, scrutinizing his handsome features cautiously. “I can still see the cut on your lip and the black eye is obvious, but all in all it gives you a rather dashing appearance.”

  “But, then, you’ll never be famous for your good taste, Sabrina,” he pointed out.

  “True.”

  “How’s the kid?”

  “I don’t think he’s going to become a ballet fan for life but he’s definitely a fan of yours! You must have really impressed him last night.” Sabrina grinned. “I hope there won’t be too much more excitement before Matt gets home, though. I couldn’t take it.”

  “Three more weeks?”