The simple drawing showed a straight stem with oval leaves and a clutch of berries at the tip. Below, the image featured a small shrub with berries and delicate flowers scattered across the bushes. “Boldo. Peumus boldus. According to legend, shepherds in Chile noticed that when their sheep grazed near these bushes, they had fewer digestive troubles. In Peru and Bahia, the leaves are used like an antacid or a laxative.” Kat sank down onto her haunches, mind racing. Her scientific training insisted there were connections between the plants that Borrero drew, that the manual contained more than a catalogue. Without a word, she turned through the papers, skimmed the lines of Spanish mixed with Latin.
Sebastian said nothing. Occasionally, as she read, Kat would grunt or mumble to herself. She spoke to him only twice—once to demand a fresh pen and paper and a second time to instruct him to retrieve a volume for her. Outside, dusk settled into pale indigo twilight. With the blinds drawn, the natural light disappeared, leaving gloomy shadows to trickle across the furniture. They’d been inside for more than two hours, Sebastian realized. Too long to stay in one place.
“Kat, it’s time to go. We stay any longer, we risk being caught.”
She waved him away. “Can’t go yet. I need to read this.”
“We can take the Cinchona with us. You can read it wherever we camp out for the night.”
Kat finally spared him a perturbed look that questioned his competence. “Tio Felix’s books are here. The manuscript is here. I’m here.”
“It’s dark and you’re squinting.” He flipped the manuscript cover over onto her hand. “The Cinchona has been around for centuries. You can take any resources with you, and when we find a place to stay for the night, I’ll let you read to your heart’s content. But it’s too dark in here to read now, and we’ve been sitting in one place for a while. I don’t know when our friends or the police might decide to return, and I’d be perfectly willing not to find out.”
Kat merely jerked the manuscript closer, brushed the cover open and hunched deeper over the pages. “The information is here, Sebastian. I know it.”
With a snort, Sebastian slapped a palm over the page. “And it won’t do us any good if we get caught.”
“I can’t just leave. Not until I know what I’m supposed to do.” Kat tried to nudge his hand aside, to no avail. When she yanked at his wrist, he flicked her attempt off easily. “Sebastian. Move your hand.”
“No. Get up. Let’s go.” He nipped the manuscript from her and folded the cover closed. Before she could stop him, he shoveled it and the books on the table into their bag. The secret had kept for five hundred years, it could wait until daylight. “We’re leaving. Now.”
His spine was on fire with warning and his stomach had more knots than a sailor’s jib. Patience slipped out of his tenuous grasp. “I’m not dying for this book, Kat, and I’m not going to prison for it either. Get your pretty butt up, and let’s go.” He drew his legs in and moved to his knees. “You can either stand on your own, or I’ll carry you out of here. Either way is fine with me.”
“I can’t go yet, Sebastian.” With a deep sigh, she dropped her head back, fixed her gaze on the vaulted ceiling with its Nazca painted tiles. Around her, inside her, the history of Bahia flowed and its currents drew her inexorably to the Cinchona. To its secrets. “I can’t leave yet because I don’t understand. There is something in that manuscript, a secret that my uncle died to keep. Why Tio Felix wanted to find the Cinchona. But I have to keep reading.”
Touched by her urgency, he softened, but refused to yield. He wound an escaped brown curl around his finger, tugging gently. “Listen, Katelyn, the longer we stay here, the more danger we’re in. I promised Felix I would protect you, and I can’t do that if we’re going to sit here, exposed.”
“The answers are here, Sebastian. Here in his house.” She lifted empty hands to gesture at the stack of books that had not been thrown inside the bag. “I have to read what Tio Felix read, see what he thought he saw. This is a lifetime of work, and all of the books I’ve got to refer to would be hard to carry without a car.”
“Your Jeep—”
“Is still with Senora Martinez. And unless you are willing to haul fifty or so volumes in that bag, I can’t move.” She swallowed tightly, her heart thumping as it did when she was on the verge of discovery. “There’s something here, Sebastian. I can’t go yet.”
Because he’d had the same thought, Sebastian ground his teeth in aggravated demurral. “One more hour. Then library or no, we’re gone.”
With a grateful bob of the head, Kat dived for the bag. Her impetuous movement elbowed him in the gut. “Oh, sorry.”
“Hell, I don’t have to worry about thugs as long as I keep you around.”
Kat grinned sheepishly and straightened. “I get excited.”
Against his better judgment, Sebastian crossed to the Hepplewhite side table and dragged a Tiffany lamp over to Kat’s position, setting the base on the floor. The curtains were drawn, he conceded, probably worth the risk of a low wash of light. He yanked on the gold chain that dangled from beneath the dragonfly shade. Yellow spilled across the room.
“It’s not much, but it’s all you’re getting.”
“It will do,” Kat agreed eagerly as she found the page she’d been reading. Absently, she drew the light up to the surface.
“Down here,” he corrected, returning the lamp to the floor.
“Mmm.”
He assumed Kat’s mutter signaled agreement and gratitude. Turning, he stretched limbs gone numb from squatting and sitting for endless hours. Restless energy surged through him, accompanied by the itch along his spine that had kept him out of jail on many a moonlit night.
A mysterious client, three goons out to kill him, and a gorgeous scientist absorbed by a renegade priest’s diary. Too many players for his taste. Retrieving the Cinchona had been billed as a quick, easy job. In and out and off to Fiji.
Like Kat said, something big had gone wrong, and something titanic was yet to come. Kat’s immersion in the manuscript addressed one piece of the puzzle. But at the core of this situation rested Estrada’s murder. A frantic call to a niece he hadn’t seen in fifteen years, made the day before he died. A manuscript written centuries ago that now had at least two well-financed teams out to recover it. And an ethnobotanist who refused to turn away from dull pages filled with leaves and formulas. The linchpin was definitely Felix.
Every action had a trigger, Sebastian believed. That was his own precursor to Newton’s other laws. If he was to protect Kat and finish his job, he had to find that trigger. Calling on his own expertise, he recognized that in order to do so, he needed to reconstruct Estrada’s final days.
Bending, he removed the palm light from the bag and switched the beam on low. Sebastian let his eyes adjust to the dimness. He wandered out of the drawing room after explaining his intention to Katelyn. Her response was just shy of a snarl at the interruption. He wouldn’t take it personally, he decided. After all, the sketches of plants and the mathematical symbols clearly fell into her province. Determining what had preceded Estrada’s death was his.
While he methodically searched the ground-floor rooms, questions piled up, adding to the ones he already had. Leaving the study, Sebastian took the wide, curving stairs two at a time. He checked out the three bedrooms on the floor, inspecting each one for clues. Finding nothing, he crossed to the master bedroom. He entered slowly, scanning the room. From the top floor, one window overlooked the water and a second window gave a clear view of the town.
Including the police car headed their way.
Chapter 14
“We need to go.”
“We just had this fight.” Kat spared Sebastian an exasperated glance as he raced into the room. Turning away, she made a quick notation on the legal pad she’d scrounged up from the library. Plant genus and species, and miniature sketches joined an increasing list of questions across the yellow pages. Kat had learned several of the names a decade ago, in
her uncle’s garden. “I’m still working.”
Sebastian leaned forward and snatched the pen away. He tucked it into his pocket. “Move your gorgeous butt, Doctor. We’ve got company.” With a jerk of his head, he instructed tersely, “Close the manuscript, pack the books you think you need, and come on.”
“When can we come back?”
“I don’t know. But we’ve got maybe three minutes to get out of here. No argument.”
“I’m not arguing.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to retort. Speaking quickly, she explained, “I’ve made it through the manuscript.” Pointing to the open pages, she explained, “From what I can tell, the Cinchona isn’t a diary. It’s a homeopathic recipe book. Formulas for blending native species into medicines.”
“I don’t care if the book has the alchemist’s process for turning lead into gold.” He took a mincing step toward her. Kat stood her ground, her face turned up to challenge him. Wry appreciation that she didn’t back down mixed with annoyance. He was usually scarier when he was angry. Sebastian gripped her shoulder, forcing her to listen to him. From this moment on, he had one obligation. To keep her alive until he got her safely home. “I promised your uncle and you that we wouldn’t join the body count. We stay, we die. It’s that simple.”
Kat wanted to fight, but his urgency was undeniable. “What do you want me to do?”
“Gather what you think you’ll need. I’m going to wipe down our prints. Meet me at the kitchen door in one minute. Okay?”
Kat began to stack the books she’d used as reference. Medicinal texts and the vicious history of the conquistadors. Like Bahia then, she’d been surrounded by death and lies and secrets since arriving. Waves of chill and heat cascaded over her, and she sobbed once, a raw sound that choked her. Wrapping her arms across her belly, she caught back the tears that threatened. She hadn’t lied to Sebastian when she said it was too much. But crying wouldn’t bring relief, she warned herself ruthlessly. Answers would.
Answers scratched onto parchment by a monk in search of redemption. Like her. Perhaps, if she could solve the puzzle, could figure out why the Cinchona mattered, she would be forgiven.
Sebastian ran up the staircase to retrieve a suitcase. They’d put the books she required inside, and the cases might come in handy later. In hurried silence, he used a hand towel from the bathroom to erase any evidence of his presence. His single motive was keeping Katelyn safe. From everyone—including him.
Despite their attraction, Kat was out of his league. She’d expect—no, deserve, he corrected himself—flowers and poetry and fidelity. Roses and Byron were definitely his style, but staying wasn’t. Ever. A woman like her demanded more than he offered anyone.
No, he determined grimly as he hurried down the steps, he’d keep her safe and get her back to the U.S. That’s all. Clear her name and get her out of harm’s way. He grunted in agreement with his plan as he reached the bottom step.
And dived.
Gunfire shattered glass insets, sprayed the room with bullets. “Katelyn!” The harsh cry ripped itself from him, and he crawled across the marble foyer, then surged to his feet to run. “Stay down, Kat. I’m coming.”
As the mahogany frame splintered, he knew it was too late.
Sebastian broke the cardinal rule of escape by looking over his shoulder. Inside the door, where ornate stained glass had been, a black-gloved hand wielded a rifle that he quickly identified as a Steyr. Next to the disembodied arm, a massive shadow hammered at the door, the wooden frame splintering beneath the weight. Yet, despite the blows that echoed like thunder, the door refused to give way.
As more of the door split open, Sebastian discovered what held the gunmen at bay. A reinforced steel frame with a dead bolt and locks out of reach of the wildly spraying gun. Relief sang through him as he spun around and jogged for the drawing room. Estrada’s paranoia had bought them time.
He careened into the drawing room, dragging the case behind him. “Kat? Kat! Damnit, Kat, where are you?” Panic speared inside as he raced around the room, trying to find her. They couldn’t have gotten inside so quickly, not without his hearing her. In a steady, searing rhythm, he cursed the delay, the time stolen to neck like teenagers while their killers stalked them. His decision. His fault.
“Katelyn! Where the hell are you?” After his second circuit, he paused, struggling for control. He scanned the room, noted the only points of entry against the outside wall. Yet, the long, damask-shaded windows looked intact, he noted wildly.
He swallowed hard, trying to figure out where she’d gone. The kitchen? A second after the thought, he ran for the door and turned into the hallway that led to the room. Sebastian sped along the corridor, blind to anything but finding Katelyn. Panels of rich, dark wood ran the length of the connecting wall, mirroring the mahogany panels terminating at the foyer. In the kitchen was the back door, a door their pursuers surely knew about.
In uncanny echo of his thoughts, he heard the staccato report of gunfire erupt in the kitchen, heard the clang of bullets striking the copper pots, the tinkling shower of glass. The hallway seemed eternal, his feet mired in quicksand. Frustrated, terrified that he’d failed her, he yelled her name, praying that either she or God might listen. “Kat! Talk to me. Tell me you’re safe.”
“Sebastian?”
The tinny, hushed voice called his name, and he swore his heart stood still. “Kat?” He whirled around, trying to find the source of her cry. “Where the devil are you?”
“Here.” Like magic, a mahogany panel swung open to his left, revealing a closet barely three feet across. She wiggled out, swiping at cobwebs that clung to her skin, dripped from her hair.
Sebastian grabbed her hand, pulled her behind him toward the drawing room. He dropped behind the divan that faced the settee below the windows, and she immediately followed suit. Fear and relief twined into a single emotion, making his words gruff, his face set as stone. “We’re trapped, Katelyn. They’ve covered both exits and I don’t remember a garage from my blueprints.”
Kat saw the hard, cold man she’d met before and forgot thoughts of comfort. Survival, now. Shatter later. “Blueprints?”
“From my client.” Sebastian shut his eyes, calling from memory the blue sheet with its white tracery of lines. He used the moment to calm himself, to stem the terror that had consumed him when he thought her lost. There would be time for emotion later, he thought, shoving aside any consideration other than escape. “The ground floor has seven rooms, right? The study and library are on the opposite side of the foyer, next to the dining room.”
Kat admired the cool calculation, the laser focus on escape. No room for sentiment or for a reassuring hug. Live now, wasn’t that Sebastian’s motto? Willing herself a similar inhuman courage, she replied shakily, “Yes. Plus the great room, the kitchen, and the drawing room. Tio Felix never learned to drive, never had to. Walking made him happy, and the town is small.”
“How did he travel around the rest of Bahia?”
She thought hard, trying to recall long ago summers that had blended into memory. Twisting her fingers together, she pictured the infrequent trips out of the city. Lazy summers of study and conversation in a house now under siege. With effort, she fought off the crest of panic with slippery results. “I don’t remember a car. We took taxis when I was younger, or rode with Senora Martinez and her husband. They drove.”
Sebastian reached out, covered her hand to quiet the anxious motion of her fingers. The contact soothed him, and beneath his touch, her hand stilled. For him as much as her, he opened her fist, linked their hands. Tilting her chin to him, he spoke softly, firmly. “Kat, we’re okay for now. The doors have reinforced steel, and the bolts can’t be reached by breaking the windows.”
Not to be assuaged, she shook her head, brown tendrils sliding down from their prison. Soon, Sebastian would pull away, leaving her to fend off the horror on her own. She should begin now, she thought, jerking at her hands. His fist closed tight, holdin
g her still, unwilling to let go. Kat became quiescent, absorbing even the smallest mea sure of comfort as she finished his unspoken thought. “But even if they can’t get inside, we can’t get out, can we?”
“No unless you know how to fly, Dr. Lyda.”
Kat gave a nervous laugh. “I skipped my second year of physics. My professor told me I’d regret it.”
“Well, then. We just have to think. Between your brain and my cunning, there’s a way out.” He lifted her captive hand to his mouth, pressed an absent kiss to the fragrant skin. As delicate as porcelain, strong as iron. And so very nearly gone. Convulsively, against his better judgment, Sebastian caught her and yanked her into his arms, buried his face in her throat. “Damnit, Kat. I thought—”
Moved unbearably, Kat hugged him tight, stroked at the fine black strands of hair that curled at his nape. “I heard the gunshots. You told me to hide, and I remembered the closet. Tio Felix and I would play hide-and-seek during my summers. I discovered that one when I was eleven.”
Discovered. Hide-and-seek. The phrases nudged at him, demanded his attention. Over Kat’s head, Sebastian stared at the row of books that lined the side wall. The row of books with their oddly spaced columns.
Maybe. Maybe, he thought, the old goat kept a few other secrets off of his blueprints. “Kat, were there other secret rooms?”
Kat squinted at his question. “Other secret rooms?” she repeated quizzically. “Besides the closet? Um, yeah. There’s a dumbwaiter in the master bedroom that used to open into the great room. And a nook in the guest bedroom where I stayed.”
Moving fast, Sebastian approached the shelves from an angle and called up his recollection of the blueprints. Lids closed over his dark eyes as he focused on the layout of this wing. The outer wall ran the length of the house along its rear, spilling into the private garden. He walked forward and counted off the columns of the bookshelf. One. Two. Three. Four. He measured the width, as he had earlier. The fourth column was definitely wider, by nearly a foot. “Help me remove these books.”
Secrets and Lies Page 15