Concerned, Kat laid her hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to insult you, Sebastian. You’re here. Now. Helping me. Only a good man would do that.” The slow, mean smirk should have warned her, Kat would realize later.
With a brutal efficiency, he plucked her hand up and released it, as though soiled. He stepped away, held out a hand when she would have closed the distance between them. Shoving aside guilt, he sneered, the cocky grin that infuriated her. “Save the redemption for your uncle. I’m along for the ride because I don’t enjoy being double-crossed. Obviously, my client didn’t trust me to get the job done and she sent another team after us.” To drive the point home, he caught her chin on his fist, raised her eyes to meet the look he trained to slide slickly over her. “I’ll help you return the Cinchona because I’m in the mood for revenge. And because you’ve been good entertainment. Nothing more.”
Kat breathed in sharply when their eyes locked. The bitter chocolate darkened almost to obsidian and held as much warmth. She could feel hers moisten, refused the tears. “Nothing more? Really?”
Sebastian leaned close, his voice pitched low, carrying only to her ears. “Look, honey. Last night was fun. Memorable, even. But I warned you before, didn’t I?”
Kat took a stumbling step away. “I haven’t asked you for anything, Sebastian.”
He chuckled insultingly. “But you will. Women like you can’t help themselves.”
“Women like me.” Hurt spun into rage. She barely held in a snarl, and instead ground out, “You mean weak women?”
“Honey, I know you’re not weak. You’ve already proven that.” With a flick against her mouth, he drew his thumb along the crest of her cheek. “I mean dreamers like you. Women who weave fantasies to make themselves feel better about their choices. Hell, you don’t even know if Sebastian Caine is my real name, Kat. You just think I’m handsome and dangerous and that I can make you feel things no one ever has.”
“Like pity?”
Sebastian dropped his hand, and Kat surged forward, eyes flashing. “Pity,” she repeated steadily, “because you are so damned afraid that you’d rather lose me than try to be who I know you can.”
“What? A solid citizen?” Even to his ears, the scorn sounded less than certain.
Hearing it, hearing him, rage softened, and Kat touched him, her fingertips grazing his heart. “No. A man who will sacrifice everything for a cause that’s bigger than him. A man who lets himself love someone else for a change. But you’re terrified of me. Of loving me.”
“Bullshit.”
“No.” Kat felt the tears come, let them fall. “No, honey. You love me, and you can’t stand it. Because you know you’ll put me first.” She reached up then, hauling his mouth to hers. Heat, passion, compassion poured from her into his mouth, into his soul. When his breath vanished, his mouth no longer his own, he begged for mercy, and she twisted against him, denying relief.
His arms imprisoned her, though he was the captive.
Finally, he shoved her away. “Stop it, damn you. I don’t want you.”
“Liar.” The word hung between them. Kat watched him with drenched eyes that measured and found him wanting. “You’re such a liar. My God, Sebastian. Until now, I never realized you were a coward too.”
Then she turned and walked slowly for the truck.
Chapter 21
Sebastian stood frozen, his mouth tingling, his hands itching to do violence. Not to Kat, but to the Fates that had put him in such a buggered position. Thirty-five years of fiercely guarded independence shot straight to hell. A lifetime of carefree, even feckless existence, answering to no one, and he had to find the one woman who could tie him into knots and unravel him completely, all in the same clear-eyed, soul-searing amber look.
And to be the man she believed him to be, he’d have to betray her. He stopped by a quina tree and, spinning, slammed his fist into the bark. Pain radiated up the bone, and his fist oozed blood from where the bark broke skin. He stared at the tree, realizing that what they carried in the cab of the truck might heal him instantly. Damn the quina, the Cinchona, the whole lot of it, he cursed silently. Everything he’d ever wanted was slipping away, faster than he could bear it.
Out of sight, Sebastian braced his arm against the trunk and rested his forehead on the rough surface. Guilt and love and desire and a desolate aching tore at his breath, bit at his resolve. Maybe, he thought wildly, maybe he hadn’t considered all of the angles. Surely, there was a way to outwit Helen and her cohorts. A way to let Kat return the Cinchona and protect her from their wrath. To keep her with him until the aching stopped.
Staring up at the lazy travels of white clouds along the horizon, Sebastian imagined for a moment that there was a way. But he knew better. He knew his client, that her ultimatum was no idle threat.
People feared the military and the mob. But the most highly organized, ruthlessly efficient gang in the world existed ostensibly to heal. Pharmaceutical companies spent billions of dollars in the pursuit of life and squandered millions of lives in the hunt for profit. Complicated, complex moralities that refused a simple label, the tiny nations headed by profiteers like Helen Cox had an army behind them that could wipe out the G-8 in a matter of seconds. Could bring other companies to their knees, make them beg for mercy.
What could he possibly do against those odds? He was one man. Stuck in a forgotten nation, with a scientist, an ex–cabaret singer, and a motley truck as his weapons. He had no choice. No options. Nothing to do but surrender. Swiveling his head, Sebastian watched through the foliage as Kat climbed inside the cab and slammed the door shut. She stared out the front window, refusing, he imagined, to look back and see if he followed.
“That’s right, my love. Don’t look back.” Sebastian spoke softly to the trees, the only audience he trusted. “Whatever’s chasing you will catch up soon enough. Unless I can stop them.”
Sebastian lowered his head, sucked in a deep draft of air. Still, his lungs felt empty and wrung out. After years of stealing, searching for something to mean more than the next heist, he’d finally found the prize. Found Kat. Only to give her up to save her.
With a cool head and without trying to redeem himself.
The irony twisted through Sebastian, a molten wave of remorse and acceptance. For the first time in his godforsaken life, he’d truly perform an unselfish act, and the beneficiaries would curse him for it. Fitting, he conceded.
But he had never been a good martyr. From his earliest memories, he’d been adept at wiggling out of situations and leaping into others. He made his own choices, his own destiny. For a case like this, an army feared only another force more powerful.
And only sunshine could defeat the enemies of the dark. Sebastian snorted at his own poetry and pushed away from the tree. But an idea coalesced, formed solid and convincing. Satisfied, he turned on his heel and began the climb up from the ravine.
“Do what you have to, Sebastian. Recriminations are like candy floss,” he warned himself callously. “About as substantial and as memorable.” With quick, sure strides, he walked toward the idling truck, mind settled. He had a job to do, and he was on a schedule. One day to get Kat to Lima, along with the Cinchona.
He wrenched the door open. “Let’s go.”
The rest of the drive occurred in silence. In the cramped space of the cabin, Kat managed to carve out a wide berth, a yawning space between them that remained even as the truck lurched around corners. Her fingers dug into the dashboard, lines of muscle rippling with the effort to keep her upright as they sped around corners. When her knuckles showed white from the strain, Sebastian issued a seething curse.
“Cut it out, Kat. You’ll hurt yourself.” He settled deeper against the door to give her more room. If she didn’t stop, at the next turn, she’d go flying through the window. “Look there’s plenty of space. I won’t touch you.”
Kat said nothing. As if on cue, Senora Martinez took the next curve on two wheels. He slid into the doorframe and fume
d as Kat’s nails sank into the cracked leather. Her arms trembled from the effort, and her legs dug into the floor for purchase.
“Damnit, Kat. I said cut it out.” She moaned then, a tiny sound that escaped before she broke it off, the whimper scraping at nerves already rubbed raw. Angrily, he caught her up and hauled her into his lap.
“Let me go,” she demanded, squirming fiercely.
Beneath her frustrated movements, Sebastian hardened, a nearly perpetual state for him since meeting her. He lowered his head and pressed his mouth against her ear. “Keep moving, and I’ll give Senora Martinez a better show than she got this morning.” Louder, he warned, “Sit still. We’re almost there.” Praying he was right, he glanced at Gabriela. “Right?”
She smothered a grin. “Sí. Huanco is around the next bend.” Deliberately, she barreled around the curve, and Sebastian closed his arms around Kat to keep her from tumbling to the floor. She eased off the gas and pointed to the paved road jutting off to the left of the highway. “That’s Huanco.”
In short order, she’d parked the truck in front of Huanco’s version of a strip mall. The town, population ten thousand, boasted two streetlights and enviable tar paving that leveled the roads for the aging cars in the city. Mariposa’s, a stucco building painted a garish pink, welcomed patrons to select from American-designed, El Salvadoran-sewn garments. Sebastian selected a couple of pairs of blue jeans and a third in black. A packet of thick white T-shirts bearing the Hanes label joined a pullover in his basket. He rummaged in a large bin for necessities and kept a furtive eye on his grim companion.
Kat shopped on the opposite side of the store, accompanied by Senora Martinez. She had already found jeans of sufficient length to fit her unusual height, the slim boy cut discovered in the young men’s aisle. A couple of tops, patterned brightly in hues she admired, though rarely wore, were added by the senora.
“Such a lovely skirt!” Senora Martinez beckoned to her. Kat reluctantly crossed to where she stood at the arrangement of summery dresses that billowed from their hangers. “Try this on, Katelyn.”
“I’m not here to pick out dresses, Senora. I will be working, not dating.”
“You will be convincing the Mutambo to accept you. They are traditional people and will not react well to a girl dressed as a man.” Certain she’d won, Senora Martinez held up a length of red-and-bronze fabric, the colors blending at the bodice and separating at the skirt.
The wrap-dress had been knitted by hand and seemed to float beneath the senora’s hand.
“You must try it on, Katelyn. For an old woman,” she added, when Kat began to protest.
Kat sighed, but accepted the dress and the skirts tossed atop her pile. Muttering about interfering busybodies, she stalked into the dressing room and shucked off the scrubs. The tank top fell onto the floor and she worried for an instant that she hadn’t bothered with a bra. At her size, a bra was more a fashion statement than a necessity.
Sebastian certainly hadn’t raised any complaints.
As soon as the thought winnowed into mind, she shook her head to clear it. No more, she chided herself. No more thoughts of Sebastian and his refusal to accept that he loved her. He’d made his choice perfectly clear. Despite what she believed he felt for her, he refused to accept it or her. His choice, his decision. Just as she’d made hers. The ache of loss would ease someday, she knew, but not nearly soon enough. She dragged the fabric around her naked body, yanking harder than she intended and heard the seams pull.
“Cut it out, Kat.” She repeated his instructions from the truck and clicked her teeth together in pique. “Stop thinking about him.”
Swiftly, she wrapped the ties around her waist and knotted them in front. Without a look in the mirror, she flounced out from behind the curtain to confront Senora Martinez.
And promptly collided with Sebastian.
He caught her easily and quickly set her away.
“Sorry.” Kat focused on a point over his shoulder, refusing to make eye contact.
So she didn’t see his mouth gape open, his jaw tighten as he studied her in the bronze-and-crimson dress. Soft, luxurious fabric draped curves, hollowed contours. The modest bodice framed the swells of smooth, creamy breast in a swirl of color. A nipped-in waist flared into generous hips, and the cotton skimmed down her thighs to halt dangerously just below her knees. From that point, the stunning legs he’d admired from the first day he’d seen them seemed to go on forever. “Buy it.”
Before she could retort, he stepped past her and into the adjacent dressing room. Senora Martinez flurried over, beaming. “¡Muy bonita!”
“Gracias,” Kat responded absently, and turned into the dressing room. Selecting a long skirt in green and a matching top in a floral motif, she took extra time to braid her hair and wind the heavy mass into a knot at her nape. Exiting, she was accosted by Senora Martinez, who pressed earrings into her hands.
“For the bank. It will be part of your costume,” she urged, hurrying Kat to the counter.
The aging shop keep er mumbled over her purchases and tallied the amount on a decrepit cash register. Beside the register, though, an electronic credit card reader blinked imperiously. He announced the total and offered, “Cash or credit,” in smooth English.
“We’ll pay cash.” Sebastian reached past her to pile his selections on the counter. “These are together.”
Kat opened her mouth to protest, but a firm hand bit into her arm. Near her ear, he whispered, “We need them to see us as a couple, okay? It’s easier.”
She subsided unhappily. Having him pay for her clothes vexed her, but there was no help for it. Soon, they exited the shop, dressed in their new finery. Sebastian had selected khakis and a white oxford, the hue a marvelous contrast for his skin. In the sunlight, his skin glowed a burnished copper, the chiseled features a mask of obdurate beauty.
Kat tore her gaze away and raced ahead to the truck. She stored her packages in the bed with harsh, irritated motions. There was no way she could bear to spend another minute in his presence, let alone another night. If she had to trek to the Mutambo village alone, she’d be rid of Sebastian Caine by tomorrow sundown.
“We can walk to the bank.” Senora Martinez spoke from behind her.
Kat turned quickly, her new sandals kicking up dust. She looked over the senora’s shoulder, but Sebastian was nowhere in sight. Wanting to ask, she firmed her mouth in a mutinous line. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“Sebastian will meet us there.” Senor Martinez unlocked the truck door and flipped over the bench. She tucked two shopping bags into the empty space and motioned for Kat to do the same. “We should put our packages in the truck and lock the doors. This isn’t Canete.”
Kat transferred her bags, thinking of her single visit to Huanco. “Tio Felix brought me once, when I was fifteen. They have a museum here, correct?”
“Yes. Of the Nazca line that survived in Bahia. Lovely pottery.” Senora Martinez secured the truck and linked her arm with Kat’s. “The bank is down the street, on the next block. We should hurry, to reach them before siesta.”
“Sebastian better not take too long.” Kat cast a suspicious glance around the town square, but did not see him. “Where did he go?”
“Your young man doesn’t believe in explanations, I think.” The older lady shrugged dismissively. “He’ll join us soon, I trust. Certainly, as he has Felix’s key.”
Kat scanned the town again and saw a tall figure dip into an alleyway. “There he is.” She pointed to the tall buildings that comprised downtown Huanco. “You go ahead, Senora Martinez. I need to talk to Sebastian.” Without waiting for her assent, Kat hurried down the street.
From force of habit, Sebastian wound between the stucco and wood-framed shops for several minutes before finding a back door that had been left slightly ajar. He ducked into the abandoned storefront, squished in between what he determined to be a grocery and a restaurant. The smell of overripe plantains and so-frito teased his nostrils and remi
nded him that he hadn’t enjoyed a full meal in days. But food could wait. This could not. Inside the store, shelves sagged on rotted wood and dust thickened the floor.
He made his second call to London, breaking every rule of protocol. A voice answered, “Helen Cox’s office.”
Sebastian paced the empty store, its windows boarded up. He pressed the cell phone close to his ear. “Good afternoon. I need to speak with Helen. Tell her it’s Sebastian Caine.”
The receptionist sat straighter in her chair, recognizing the name she’d typed onto wiring instructions around the world. But behind the closed door to Ms. Cox’s office sat four of the most powerful men and women in the world, and she had strict instructions about disturbing their confab. Consequences mentioned included hunting for a new job with a permanent smear on her employment record and destitution in London’s West End. So, it was with mixed emotions that she replied, “Mr. Caine, Ms. Cox is in a meeting and cannot be disturbed. May I take a message and have her ring you back?”
“No. Walk into her office and interrupt her. She’ll thank you.”
“Ms. Cox left strict instructions. I am not to patch through any calls. Including important ones.”
“Well, darling, we all have our instructions.” Sebastian paused, then said reasonably, “Okay, Miss—”
“Miss Lundquist.” Gratitude at his understanding softened her vowels, reminding her of the Cockney roots she’d hidden beneath hours of imitating Lady Diana. “Miss Delores Lundquist.”
“Okay, Miss Lundquist. Please give Ms. Cox this message. ‘Your multibillion-dollar project is about to go up in smoke because your ultraefficient assistant chose not to deliver my message in a timely fashion.’” He waited. “Did you get all that?”
Deflated, Delores shut her eyes tight and tried to recall where she’d last filed her résumé. “Just a moment, Mr. Caine.”
Delores slipped from behind her station and approached the frosted glass door. She depressed the buzzer once, then a second time when there was no response. Eventually, an eternity later, the door slid open to frame the livid face of Helen Cox. “If this building is not on fire, I expect your desk to be cleaned out by five.”
Secrets and Lies Page 22