She stumbled through her explanations, hoping she’d made the proper choice. In a hissed undertone that did not carry into the office, she explained, “I know you said no interruptions, Ms. Cox, but it is Sebastian Caine. He says it’s urgent.”
Helen stiffened and cast a glance over her shoulder. Her three companions watched the exchange with varying degrees of interest. Vincent primarily watched Delores’s legs, and Holbrook gazed adoringly at Vincent. Marguerite, however, kept an eagle eye on them, the emerald eyes unblinking. Helen gripped Delores’s elbow and propelled her into the vestibule. “Put him through to the conference room. I’ll take the call there.”
With a hurried bob of comprehension, Delores dashed to her station and retrieved the call. “Ms. Cox will be with you in a moment, Mr. Caine.”
“Then I will have to tell her how helpful her ultraefficient assistant has been. Have a lovely day, Delores.”
Despite the earlier threat, the silky compliment appeased her, and she returned huskily, “Take care, Mr. Caine.”
In the conference room, a red button flashed in staccato bursts on the telephone. Helen strode into the area and pressed the door firmly closed behind her. Like every space in the building, the conference room was soundproofed. And like every room, digital devices recorded activities. Helen circled to the audiovisual control panel and disengaged the automatic recording function. This was why she rarely contacted Sebastian using company technology.
Satisfied that their call would be private, she lifted the receiver. Her voice dropped an octave, the tone a sensual invitation a former lover would easily recognize. “Calling so soon, Sebastian? Miss me already?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Helen,” Sebastian answered tersely. “I agreed to do as you demanded, but I have some additional terms.”
Helen scowled, annoyed by the rebuff. Tone hardening, she scoffed, “This isn’t a negotiation. I want the Cinchona in one day’s time in Lima. In exchange, your new plaything lives to see another day, and you receive your retirement fund. Isn’t that what you used to call it? Especially that night we rolled around in your installment from the Essex assignment.” She purred over the memory, images shortening her breath. Sebastian had always been skillful and imaginative. And hers.
“Let’s not play nostalgia, Helen. That was a long time ago.” Sebastian didn’t regret his alliance with Helen, but he found nothing pleasant in remembering it. However, alienating her served no purpose either. “I can’t make it to Lima by tomorrow, not without making Katelyn suspicious.”
“That’s not my concern. We have a deal. You’ve tried to renege once already. Don’t do it again.”
“I’m not reneging, Helen. But we do need to change the drop site. I need you to meet me in Canete. At Estrada’s house.”
Helen cackled at the thought. “An ambush, Sebastian? Is that your master plan? Lure me to Bahia and murder me to save your girlfriend?”
Not exactly, Sebastian thought. “I don’t do murder. You know that. But I can convince Katelyn to pay her last respects to her uncle. At his home. Meet me there in thirty-six hours.”
“Where will you be?”
“Pretending to help her fulfill Felix Estrada’s last wishes.” Sebastian understood better than most that the truth was a more convincing lie than any imagination created. “You’ll do a wire transfer to my account for $10 million. I won’t tell you to come alone, but if anything seems wrong, I vanish. And the Cinchona goes with me.”
“Which leaves Dr. Lyda as fair game.”
“I vanish, and you can have her. However, if you’re the reason I leave, I’m selling the Cinchona to the highest bidder.”
“I’m not worried, Sebastian. You’ll play by my rules.”
He tightened his hold on the phone and struggled to keep his tone even. “You double-cross me, and Katelyn’s death will be the least of both of our concerns.”
“Don’t be coy, Sebastian. If she didn’t matter, you wouldn’t be bargaining with me.”
“Like I said, Helen, I don’t do murder. However indirectly. And we both know I don’t fall in love with my marks. This is a matter of profit. Do we have a deal?”
She considered upping the ante, simply to break him, but time was of the essence. “Yes, thirty-six hours, Canete.”
“Ciao.” Sebastian disconnected the phone and slipped it into his pocket, turning. And stopped.
Katelyn stood in the doorway, her face wreathed in shadow. She took a step inside, the door swinging shut. “You son of a bitch.”
Chapter 22
“How much did you hear?” Sebastian intentionally leaned against the wall, ankles crossed negligently. With a careless gesture, he pushed the phone into his back pocket, then crossed his arms against his chest. He had sensed her presence behind him during the call, and he hadn’t cared. A betrayed and angry Kat was a damned sight simpler to deal with than the complexity of loving a woman too good for him.
Though he wouldn’t have chosen this minute to chase her away, he grudgingly accepted the state of things. Kat would accuse him of betrayal, he’d admit it, and she’d leave him. Because of the love that had sneaked up on him, had twined insidiously inside him, he’d let her.
She stood just inside the store, where he could grab her if she tried to run. In the gray, bleeding dimness, she blocked the exit to the street, in case he decided to escape. Looking at her, Sebastian wished for the first time in his life that he’d chosen another path. Luminous amber eyes held his, their color darkened. He knew the shadows owed little to the overhang of the tin roof above and everything to what she’d probably heard him tell Helen.
Wrong conversation. Wrong time. If he’d been a different man, Sebastian would have cursed his luck or denied the conversation. But he wasn’t. So he didn’t. “Where’s Senora Martinez?”
“At the bank,” Kat responded automatically. “I came to find you.”
“Well, you certainly did.” Shifting his weight slightly, to better watch the street, he repeated softly, the words not carrying beyond them. “Kat, how much did you hear?”
Staring at Sebastian, Kat wondered idly at the science of living on when a heart stopped beating. Surely, the empty cavern that ached in her chest was a scientific marvel. Because she hadn’t misunderstood what she’d heard. Sebastian planned to hand over the Cinchona to his client, as he’d always planned. Despite knowing of Tio Felix’s sacrifice, of her need for absolution. Stunned, her breath dragging through constricted lungs, she murmured, “I heard enough.”
“Enough to know that I’ve betrayed you?”
A flash of fire caught inside at the easy declaration. Kat took an angry step forward but stopped short of coming within his reach. She had no idea what he was capable of. Not anymore. Her voice husky but strong, she matched his low tone. “Enough to know that you’ll never see what’s inside my uncle’s safe-deposit box.”
“Darling, you can’t stop me. I’ve got the key.” To taunt her, he fished the sliver of metal from his front pocket and dangled the key before slipping it back inside. “I’ll tell them I’m his nephew, come from America to claim his belongings. We both know the bank authorities will be more than pleased to assist me, especially if I sweeten the pot with a couple of thousand dollars.”
Kat flinched. “I’ll tell them you’re a thief. And a liar.”
“And I’ll point out you’re a fugitive accused of killing the owner of the box.” Sebastian spoke matter-of-factly, unconcerned. “By the time they sort out the truth, my client will be in town. You can’t win here, Kat.”
For a moment, Kat shut her eyes, unable to face him. The truth was, he was right. Stupid, trusting fool that she was, she’d let him keep the key. And despite her speed and excellent shape, she couldn’t outrace him to the truck. Senora Martinez might try to come to her aid, but at this point, she had no idea what Sebastian was capable of. Everything she thought true of him had been proven wrong.
Including how he felt about her. Last night hadn’t been about fa
lling in love or even basic desire. What she’d read as affection had been calculation, pure and simple. Get the gullible novice into bed, lull her into forgetting his two rules.
I don’t sacrifice myself for anyone. I don’t put anyone’s happiness above my own.
The jagged twist of pain forced the humiliating question from her. Her color heightened as she asked, “Why did you sleep with me? For the Cinchona?”
The halting question had Sebastian shifting away from the rough wall. Instinct demanded that he reach out to her and soothe, but he stopped himself in time. Instead, he shrugged. “Didn’t you enjoy yourself? I thought I’d done an admirable job on that score. Several times, I believe.”
“Bastard.”
Sebastian smiled. Deliberately, he closed the distance between them. He needed to touch her again, even in pretense. One last time before he lost the only prize that mattered. Like a blind man, he traced the arrogant jaw, the aristocratic slope of her cheek, the mouth that tempted him to bend. To taste and take and forget his good intentions.
Kat did not pull away from his caress, watching a struggle play out behind the shuttered eyes. Confused by the gesture, she clasped his hand and held it pressed to her cheek. “Sebastian. What’s going on? Talk to me.”
Love, unfamiliar and unyielding, forced him to drop his hand. He crowded her instead, looming above. “I warned you, Kat. From the first day. I take things. Even from you. You can’t be surprised.”
She stared at him, rigid and absurdly cold. “I thought we—that you felt something for me.”
“I do, darling. I like you. You’re smart and sexy and you’ve got a body that’s worth going to war over. But no woman is worth a million dollars.”
“I thought you told whomever you were talking to that the price was ten?”
Sebastian chuckled ruefully, cruelly. “Yes, I did. One million or ten, Kat, it’s all the same. Women are all the same.”
Resentment surged, snapping into her eyes, steeling her spine. She shook her head once, hard. “How little you must think of me.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“No. No, you don’t get it. Not if you think a few insults and a thanks-for-the-lay speech are going to make me run off. Make me believe that you don’t love me.”
“I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.” Certainty curved her mouth, lifted her hand to his chest. Beneath her palm, his heart pounded a staccato rhythm and threatened to break free. “My God, Sebastian. You’re in love with me.”
He shoved her hand away angrily. “I am not. Stop saying that.”
The sly smile curved her mouth and she released a charmed laugh. “And for some reason, you plan to make your client believe that you’re going to hand over the Cinchona.”
“I am,” Sebastian insisted, feeling as though his feet had been knocked out from under him. She knew, he thought. How the hell did she know? “I am going to give it to my client and take the money.”
“No, you’re not. You never were. Not since you saw Tio Felix’s body.” She grinned up at him, slid her free arm around his waist. “I need you to be brave, Sebastian. Because I’m going to do something that will scare you.”
He gripped her arms to push her away, and soon, he thought, he would. “What are you talking about, Kat?”
“I’m going to trust you. I’m not sure what elaborate scheme you’ve concocted, and I don’t know if you’ll tell me what you intend to do. I’d be impressed if you did. But it doesn’t matter. For the next thirty-six hours—that is the time you gave your client, right?” He nodded automatically, and she continued. “For the next thirty-six hours, I’m going to do what you say, not too many questions asked. You’ve got my trust, Sebastian.”
“I don’t want it,” he grated out, his fingers sliding beneath the straps of her dress, absorbing the feel of her. The reality of her. “I don’t want you to trust me.”
“I know. That’s why I’m giving it to you. You can’t steal it, you can’t finagle it. It’s a gift, without strings. And I’m not asking for anything in return, a foreign concept in your world, I know. But there you have it. I love you, and I trust you, Sebastian.”
Flummoxed, Sebastian glared down at the clear-eyed woman who watched him serenely, topaz eyes boring into him as though she truly understood him. A shiver coursed over his suddenly too-tight skin, a preternatural awareness that his life had been irrevocably altered. He didn’t like it. Nor did he like the way his heart seemed to shift in his chest, an abrupt sensation of how he imagined tranquillity felt.
The emotions were alien and overwhelming and addictive. He wanted no part of them. Sebastian scowled, resisting the urge to run. What game was she playing? “I didn’t say I loved you, Katelyn.”
The retort was harsh, certain, but Kat refused to back down. Turning up the wattage of her trembling smile, she responded, “Doesn’t matter. I know you do.”
Or so she had to believe. If she was to survive the coming hours, to envision a life where the inky black that crowded inside her dissipated, she had to hold on to the lie she told herself. Sebastian loved her. He wouldn’t betray her. Doubt trickled into her thoughts, and to push it away, she laced their fingers and tugged him forward. “The bank will close soon. We’ve got to go.”
“Wait. For a damned minute, wait.” On a growled oath, Sebastian spun her to him, dragged her against him. Sinking his fingers into her hair, the sable mass dislodged from its knot. The cool strands burned his skin, coiled around him. Hungry, feral, he dived into the exotic mouth that lied so prettily, promising him dreams he’d never bothered to imagine.
Kat braced for invasion, knowing the demons that rode him. So when his lips gently parted her mouth, she wondered. When he slipped inside, a delicate exploration that soothed and tempted and begged for absolution, she forgave. In the swirling mist that hazed her mind, she thought she could hear his confession, felt his body melt into hers.
His arms contracted and lifted her. She clung to his shoulders, a moan rising softly between them. Faintly, Sebastian realized the yearning sound came from him. Seeking her tongue, he tangled their mouths, desperate and alive and terrified. I love you. I trust you. Her declarations wound inside and spurred him to defy. To cherish.
The contradiction astonished him, and he fought the silken skeins that bound him to her with every whispered endearment, every brush of her lips against his brow, his throat, his avid, questing mouth. Gripping her hips, he lifted her higher and fell back against the solid wall. When she urged him on, he streaked kisses across the taut rise of her breasts, slicked his tongue into the cleft between. Oblivious to their surroundings, he searched for answers, testing the wondrous textures of his Kat. The clean smoothness of skin, the slightly rough invitation of her tongue. Hot and piquant, exquisite and supple, he kissed her and imagined tomorrow.
The image held such clarity, he shook. Kat felt the shudder and lifted her mouth. “Sebastian?”
“I don’t understand you.”
The ragged question shushed across her damp, aching skin and Kat brushed his mouth in mute understanding. Wriggling free, her legs not quite steady, she clutched his biceps for support. Automatically, Sebastian supported her, fingers clenching on her resilient waist. Kat smiled. “Yes, you do understand me, and it scares the hell out of you.” She grasped his hand, palm to palm, twining their fingers. “We’ve got to go meet Senora Martinez. We’ve got a busy schedule ahead of us.”
Mutely, Sebastian trailed Kat out of the alley, and they walked in tandem down the several blocks to the bank. The broad streets, wider than average, accommodated the roar of aging trucks and cars as well as the occasional cart and burro. Flowering trees, in the second blush of spring, dripped pink and white petals to the ground. Tourists bustled along the cobbled sidewalks to peek into shops and dine on authentic cuisine. The bank stood on the corner of the square, a tall white building with a Bahian flag waving proudly in the slight breeze.
Sunlight glistened on the glass doors welco
ming customers. Steering them up the walkway, Sebastian halted, turning Kat to face him. Despite his own actions, the safe-deposit box inside the bank held the last communication from Felix to his niece. Though she hadn’t shrunk from a challenge since the day they met, Sebastian regretted the possibility of one more illusion shattered.
According to Senora Martinez, the box contained instructions for returning the Cinchona. Sebastian understood that other secrets usually found their hiding places in banks, especially ones that needed to be hidden from authorities. Felix Estrada had a bevy of secrets, and Sebastian wasn’t sure Kat could handle the revelation of another one.
He cupped her face between his palms, trying to read the topaz eyes that met his. “Are you sure about this, Kat?”
Kat nodded once, the wan smile she forced unconvincing. “It’s too late not to be. You’ve already made your deal, and so have I. Both of our futures depend on what’s inside that safe-deposit box.”
In tandem, they entered the bank, shoes silent on the rose-colored marble floor. White fluorescent lights illumined the interior, glinting off the polished floor and the metal pedestals where customers scribbled digits onto slips of paper. A white teller’s counter ran the length of one wall. Three men and two women offered politely professional smiles to visitors and dispatched customers with a brisk efficiency. None of the traditional South American disdain for capitalist speed ruled here. The Banco de Bahia was a wholly Western creation, complete with tricolor signs urging customers to squirrel funds away for their waning years.
Sebastian swept the room in an encompassing gaze and noted Gabriela deep in conversation with a handsome, ruddy man buttoned tight into a black suit and noosed by a black pinstriped tie. With a slight turn, he nudged Kat forward toward the senora’s post on the plush leather sofas in the waiting area. Kat apologized in Spanish. “So sorry for the delay. We hope you did not wait too long.”
Secrets and Lies Page 23