Unauthorised Passion/Intimate Knowledge

by Amanda Stevens

  “Gracias,” Penelope murmured as she got to her feet. Gratefully, she followed Garcia out of the office. He led her into a room with a desk and telephone and, then crossing his arms, waited for her to make her call.

  Penelope walked over to the phone, then hesitated. “Do I need to call the operator for an outside line?”

  Garcia picked up the phone, dialed a number, listened for a moment, then handed her the receiver. She heard a dial tone when she lifted it to her ear.

  Garcia stepped away from the desk, but he didn’t leave the room.

  Clutching the phone, Penelope still hesitated. Who to call? Her parents back in Houston? She could just imagine how her mother would react upon hearing that her third daughter was being detained by the Manzanillo police in connection to a murder. And her father? She’d never hear the end of it from him, either.

  So who could she call? Helen? Penelope hated to think of her sister as an airhead, but Helen definitely had her blond moments and was not at her best during crises.

  Cassandra was out of the country, so that left only Ariadne. Her youngest sister wouldn’t be a bad choice. In spite of her rather bizarre appearance, Addie had a good head on her shoulders and she was street-smart to boot. Unfortunately, however, she was back in Houston with the rest of the family.

  Penelope needed someone here. Someone who could come to her rescue immediately.

  And then she remembered the number that her sister had given to her the night before her trip. Alex Salizar had wanted her to have it in case she ran into trouble, Helen said.

  Well, she was most definitely in trouble, Penelope thought grimly as she fished the card from her purse. Staring at the number, she tried to remember what Helen had said about Robert Smith. He was an American ex-pat who had some kind of obscure position in the Mexican government. Whatever that meant.

  But as long as he could help her, Penelope didn’t much care what he did for a living.

  Her fingers still trembling, she punched in the number. A woman with a British accent answered cheerily, “Good morning. How may I direct your call?”

  The woman’s accent threw Penelope. What kind of branch in the Mexican government employed Brits and Americans?

  Come to think of it, Penelope couldn’t be certain that the number she’d dialed had anything to do with the government. The woman’s greeting had given no indication of the department or bureau for which she worked.

  “I’m…calling for Robert Smith,” Penelope said doubtfully.

  “One moment, please. I’ll transfer you.”

  The line was silent for so long that Penelope thought the call must have been severed. But then a series of clicks sounded in her ear, and a man’s voice said, “Robert Smith here.”

  Penelope thought his voice vaguely familiar, but she was certain they’d never met before. “You don’t know me, Mr. Smith. My name is Penelope Moon. Your name and number were given to me by Alex Salizar before I left the States. He said I was to call if I ran into trouble.”

  Robert Smith was suddenly all business. “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the police station in Manzanillo. They think I murdered someone,” she blurted.

  “Sit tight,” Robert Smith instructed. “Someone will be there within the hour. And Ms. Moon? I’d advise you not to answer any more questions.”

  Penelope hung up slowly, wondering if she’d done the right thing. She had no idea who Robert Smith was or how he planned to help her. But the cool professionalism in his voice had given her faith. She fervently hoped it was not misplaced.

  After following Garcia back into Captain Prieto’s office, she sat down and waited for the cavalry to arrive.

  Chapter Ten

  Help came in less than twenty minutes, but it wasn’t a stranger named Robert Smith who walked into Prieto’s office. It was Alex Salizar himself, looking more handsome than Penelope remembered in a white linen guayabera and buff-colored trousers.

  She jumped to her feet in astonishment. “Alex! What are you doing here?”

  “I came the moment I heard,” he said.

  “But…who told you I was here?” she asked in confusion.

  He crossed the room and placed his hands on her shoulders. “First things first. Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay. I just want to get out of here,” she said anxiously.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” He turned then and said something to the comandante in Spanish. It sounded like, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” But Penelope’s Spanish was sketchy even under normal circumstances, and as upset and afraid as she was now, she couldn’t trust her translation.

  In English, Alex said, “Ms. Moon is an American citizen. I demand that you release her at once.”

  Prieto shrugged. “I can’t do that. There’s a man lying in the morgue with a bullet hole in his heart, and Ms. Moon is my only suspect.”

  Alex placed his hands on Prieto’s desk and leaned toward him. “Then I suggest you have your men beat the bushes for another. Ms. Moon is innocent.”

  Prieto sighed. “So she keeps saying. Unfortunately, I have only her word for that. And now yours. But I’m afraid even your recommendation is not enough for me to release her.”

  “Then perhaps you need a bit more convincing.” Alex straightened and lifted his hand to his pocket, presumably to extract his wallet.

  Prieto shot Penelope a glance. “Perhaps Ms. Moon should wait outside while we discuss her situation.”

  Penelope wasn’t at all certain she liked the sound of that, but Alex glanced over his shoulder and nodded. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

  Reluctantly, Penelope got up and once again followed Garcia out of the office. Outside, she positioned herself so that she could see through the glass partition into Prieto’s office. He and Alex appeared to be engaged in a heated discussion, then all of a sudden, Prieto threw back his head and roared with laughter. Whatever Alex had said to him had apparently alleviated the tension.

  Prieto opened a box on his desk and offered Alex a cigar. When he declined, Prieto chose one for himself and lit up, blowing a thick cloud of blue smoke toward the ceiling.

  He sat back in his chair and puffed contentedly while he and Alex chatted for a few more minutes. Then, positioning the cigar at the edge of his desk, he picked up a pen and signed a series of documents that Penelope desperately hoped had to do with her release.

  She saw no money exchange hands, but she wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that a cash payment had figured heavily into the negotiations.

  When Alex came out of Prieto’s office, she rushed over to him. “What did he say?”

  Alex shrugged. “You’re free to go.”

  Penelope clutched his arm as her knees sagged in relief. “Really? I can walk out of here just like that?”

  “Yes, and I suggest you do so in a hurry before el capitán changes his mind,” Alex said dryly.

  AS THEY DROVE AWAY from the police station, Penelope glanced over her shoulder, almost expecting to see a police vehicle in hot pursuit. But the street behind them remained empty, and she let out another breath of relief as she collapsed against the supple leather seat in Alex’s sports car.

  “I was never so glad to see anyone in my life.” She turned her head to stare at him. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you.”

  Alex gave her a charming smile as he expertly shifted gears in the vintage Aston Martin. “No thanks necessary. It was the least I could do. Besides, your sister would never have forgiven me if I hadn’t come to your rescue.”

  At the mention of Helen, Penelope frowned. As her initial elation faded, certain details were starting to worry her. “Speaking of my sister,” she said slowly, “Helen told me that you would be in Houston while I was here.”

  Alex kept his eyes fixed on the road. “That was my intent, yes. But, unfortunately, there was an emergency at one of my family’s plants that required my immediate attention. When I arrived at the villa this morning, Elena told
me what had happened. Naturally, I rushed to the delegación to see if I could offer my assistance.”

  Penelope lifted a brow in surprise. “Elena is the one who told you? I assumed Robert Smith called you.”

  He shot her a glance. “Robert Smith?”

  “He’s a friend of yours, isn’t he?” Something seemed off about Alex’s reaction to the name, although Penelope couldn’t say exactly what it was. “That was my impression when Helen gave me his number.”

  Alex returned his attention to the road. “Helen told you that Robert Smith is a friend of mine?”

  “I…think so. It was my understanding that you had given her his name and number to pass along to me in case I ran into trouble here in Mexico. That’s what she said. At least, that’s the way I remember it.” Penelope studied his profile as he scowled at the road. Something she’d said had obviously displeased him. “But I was in a bit of a rush that night,” she added. “I suppose I could be mistaken.”

  Alex drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Am I to understand that you called Robert Smith this morning?”

  “Yes, from the police station.” Penelope bit her lip. She didn’t like the turn the conversation had taken, nor was she comfortable with Alex’s demeanor. There was something almost sinister about him now, as if coming to her rescue might not be without a price. “Should I not have called him?” she asked nervously.

  He seemed to consider the question for a moment, then shrugged. “No, it’s fine.” But she could have sworn she saw his jaw clench in anger.

  Seeing his reaction, Penelope knew she should probably let the matter drop, but instead she heard herself asking, “Shouldn’t we let him know that I’ve been released? I’d hate for him to make a trip to Manzanillo for nothing.”

  Alex’s smile—not quite so charming this time—flashed again as he spared her a glance. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of Robert Smith.”

  Take care of him how? Penelope wondered as they sped down the road. She tried to tell herself she was reading too much into Alex’s words and his expression, but it was difficult not to worry after the morning she’d had. She couldn’t help remembering Tonio Vargas’s last words to her: “You have no idea what you’ve landed in the middle of here.”

  And now Tonio Vargas was dead.

  Penelope shot up in her seat as they flew past the street to Alex’s villa. “You missed the turn!”

  “We’re not going home.” His fingers continued to drum a staccato rhythm on the steering wheel.

  Penelope’s mouth went dry with fear. What was going on here?

  I’m being kidnapped! she thought hysterically, as visions of her bound-and-gagged body floated through her head.

  But in the next instant, she reminded herself that Alex was her sister’s friend and her brother-in-law’s business partner. She could trust him, and besides, he certainly didn’t need ransom money.

  She tried to swallow past her fear. “Where are you taking me?”

  “To the airport. Under the circumstances, I think you should leave the country as quickly as possible.”

  “I…can’t just leave, can I? What if the police want to question me again? I haven’t done anything wrong, but fleeing the country will make me look guilty.”

  Alex shrugged. “Prieto knows you didn’t kill Tonio. But the Vargas family wields a lot of power in this part of Mexico. They could put a lot of pressure on the police to make an arrest, and without another viable suspect, Prieto would undoubtedly come after you again.”

  Penelope winced as visions of the Mexican prisons she’d seen on television and in movies mingled with her kidnapping images. She wanted to believe that Alex had her best interests at heart, but everything was happening too fast. All the decisions had been taken from her, and she suddenly felt as if her life was spiraling out of control. She’d never been the adventuresome sort, so why was this happening to her?

  “What about my clothes? My suitcase? I left everything at your villa,” she reminded Alex.

  “I’ve asked Elena to pack up your things and meet us at the airport.”

  An answer for everything, Penelope thought. Why couldn’t she just relax and let him handle things? Why did she have this gnawing premonition that the worst was yet to come?

  By the time they arrived at the airport, Penelope had worried herself into such a state that it was all she could do not to run away screaming from Alex the moment he stopped the car. But she managed to keep her calm as he helped her out of the car and then, taking her arm, ushered her quickly into the terminal where Elena already waited for them.

  She greeted Penelope then, pulling Alex aside, whispered something urgently in his ear. As she spoke, Alex placed his hand on her back and leaned into her. Penelope couldn’t help noticing that their body language suggested an intimacy that far exceeded a platonic friendship.

  Their conversation concluded, Alex picked up Penelope’s suitcase and motioned for her to follow him. He negotiated the exchange of her ticket, expertly guided her through customs, and then suggested that she check her bag straight through to Houston in order to facilitate the searches at the security checkpoints in Mexico City, where she would change planes.

  The whole procedure went far more smoothly than Penelope had anticipated, and by the time she boarded the plane for home, she was once again indebted to Alex. She turned to wave, but he’d already disappeared in the crowd.

  Taking her seat, Penelope let out a breath of relief, but she wasn’t able to fully relax until her plane touched down a few hours later at Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston.

  As she strode down the jetway, Penelope felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. But the feeling was only momentary, because as one worry vanished, another replaced it. Coming home had put into play a whole new set of problems. The long flight had provided ample opportunity to sort out the extraordinary events of the past few days, and there were certain things—coincidences—that Penelope couldn’t dismiss, no matter how hard she tried.

  First, Avery had broken his leg, requiring her to fly to Mexico in his place. Then Helen had shown up at her apartment that same night with an unexpected invitation to stay at Alex’s villa. The next day, Tonio Vargas had all but pulled the plug on the exhibit after expressing doubts about Avery’s character. And later, Penelope had seen Tonio on board a yacht, arguing with a man who looked very much like Simon.

  That same night, Tonio had warned her that she was in danger.

  And the next morning, he’d been found murdered in a courtyard. A courtyard where Penelope and Simon—

  But her assignation with Simon had only been a dream. Don’t confuse fact with fantasy, she chided herself.

  Besides, even if Simon had somehow made a miraculous recovery and ended up on board that yacht—or even in that courtyard—he couldn’t have been responsible for Tonio Vargas’s death. Simon was the gentlest, sweetest person Penelope had ever known. He simply wasn’t wired for violence. He didn’t even like confrontations. In all the time Penelope had known him, they hadn’t had a single argument. Not one.

  So, no, Simon wasn’t responsible for Tonio Vargas’s death any more than Penelope was. And the man she’d seen aboard the yacht couldn’t have been Simon. She knew that.

  But no matter how hard she tried, Penelope couldn’t get the images of Simon kissing her in the courtyard out of her head. Because it was starting to seem more like a memory than a dream.

  What if it had been real? What if Simon really had followed her to Mexico?

  Get a grip, Penelope told herself grimly. She could play the “what if” game forever, but it still wasn’t going to give her the answers she needed. Detouring into the ladies’ room to wash her face, she emerged a few minutes later with her mind made up. She knew what she had to do. She had to see Simon.

  The fact that both the receptionist at Fairhaven and Simon’s own father had assured her that there’d been no change in his condition didn’t seem to matter. Penelo
pe knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she saw him for herself.

  Instead of following the trail of passengers to the baggage-claim area, Penelope went straight to the ticket counter and booked herself a seat on the first available flight to Dallas. It left within the hour, from another terminal, and considering the lengthy lines at the security checkpoints, Penelope didn’t dare take the time to collect her suitcase. She didn’t really need it anyway. She could claim it later when she returned from Dallas. As it was, she barely had time to take the shuttle over to Terminal C, go through security and find her gate.

  The plane was already boarding by the time she arrived. Penelope hated being the last one on board, but it couldn’t be helped. Settling into her seat, she closed her eyes, expecting to be on pins and needles for the entire flight, but instead, she drifted off and didn’t wake up until they were descending. Less than an hour after takeoff, the plane was on the ground at DFW Airport.

  Penelope remained calm all through the rental-car process, but the moment she hit the road, she grew nervous and edgy, wondering what she would discover when she finally arrived at Fairhaven.

  Did she want to find Simon there?

  It seemed strange that she would even have to ask herself that question, but setting aside the improbability of such a scenario, Penelope honestly couldn’t say how she would feel if she found out that Simon had recovered without her knowledge. She wanted him well. She wanted that more than anything in the world. Even if he woke up and no longer felt the same way about her, she wanted only the best for him. She loved him that much.

  But to be deceived…duped…

  She concentrated fiercely on the road. It was ridiculous to even contemplate such a situation.

  The drive out to Fairhaven took nearly as long as her flight from Houston. With mounting trepidation, Penelope pulled into her usual spot, got out of the car and headed across the parking lot to the entrance. This time, instead of stopping to check in at the front desk, she sailed past the receptionist and headed straight for the hallway.