by Kylie Brant
As a diversionary tactic, it failed miserably. The look in his pale green eyes remained intent. “I don’t want this thing to end up hurting you. Whatever else happens, I don’t want you being…” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “…collateral damage.”
“Perfect. We’re agreed, then.”
She turned toward the door and he was at her side before she could reach for the handle. With a hand on her elbow, he spun her around to face him again.
“Dammit, Ava, be reasonable.” His face was shoved too close to hers for comfort. His voice terse. “Do you honestly think you can walk away from this? It’s easy to say you’re washing your hands of the whole thing, but Samuelson will never allow that. He’s a dangerous son of a bitch and vindictive as hell. He’ll destroy you.”
She ignored the quick shudder down her spine. “Or you will?”
He let go of her suddenly. Took a few steps away as if by establishing a physical distance he could achieve an emotional one as well. “I’ve been all around this thing for the last forty-eight hours. There’s no way out for you. If you tell Samuelson you won’t cooperate, first he’ll persuade, then he’ll threaten. Don’t kid yourself about him. His standing gives him a certain amount of power and he uses that to get what he wants, damn anyone in his way.”
“I have only your word that what he wants isn’t exactly what he presented to me—a report on the government’s stability here.”
He gave a humorless smile. “Did it ever occur to you to wonder what brought DHS to Metro City?”
She had, in fact, wondered that very thing in Sanders’s office. “The assassination attempt,” she said, with more certainty than she felt. “The terrorism being sponsored by Ramirez and his men.”
“There is no terrorism in San Baltes that endangers the U.S.” Cael made a short dismissive gesture with his hand. “That was all bogus to explain Samuelson’s interest here. It was my involvement with de la Reyes that had him following us from D.C. to California. Me being on the same continent as the man is powerful temptation. The assassination attempt must have given him the idea to use this contract against me.” His smile was bleak. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
That the two had a history had been apparent from the beginning. But Ava didn’t ask the questions that were trembling on her lips. Because reasons didn’t matter. “Neither of you is going to be allowed to use me. And both of you are going to have to deal with that.”
She suspected he was grinding his teeth. “You are dangerously naive,” he muttered. “You can’t play a human Switzerland here. You won’t be allowed to remain neutral. Everything I threatened you with, you can be damn sure he’s already thought of. Planned for. And he won’t hesitate to follow through if you refuse him.”
“But you would?”
Something flickered across his expression, there and gone too quickly to be identified. He looked away. “The only way out for you is to help me. By the time he realizes the part you played in his downfall, he’ll be defanged. He won’t have the power to hurt you or to plot revenge. He’ll be too damn busy trying to keep his ass out of a federal court for misuse of his position.”
It shouldn’t have hurt, to listen to him reach for any tool to elicit her assistance. She’d already learned the lengths he’d go to get it.
But it did hurt. Intensely. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your concern for me.” She made no effort to keep the sarcasm from her tone. “But I’ll take my chances.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Cael slammed the palm of his hand on the conference table, making her jump. “I can’t protect you from him, don’t you get that? I’ve been all over this thing and I can’t figure a way to keep you out of it, even if I wanted to. You either let him use you to destroy me or you help me bring him down. There is no third option. The man is treacherous.”
She squelched the warmth that threatened to bloom. His supposed worry for her was a sham. Nothing about the man could be trusted as genuine. Except for his hatred of Samuelson.
There was an unfamiliar tightness in her throat. “Did the thought ever occur that you might have misjudged the man? That your hatred for him has blinded you to who and what he is?”
The stillness that came over him was lethal. His fist clenched at his side so tightly that the knuckles turned white. She had a moment to wonder at his reaction before his next words, uttered in a flat, bleak tone, scattered any formal thought.
“I know exactly who and what is he. Better than most people could. He’s my father.”
* * *
Cael’s mood was dangerous as he strode up to Gonzalez’s quarters. With a terse jerk of his head, he indicated for the guardsman on duty to step aside before turning to the security device on the door. Using his body to shield his actions from any interested eyes, he tapped in the code and drew his weapon. It would be careless to let his temper affect the upcoming interview. Unprofessional to allow the scene with Ava to color his judgment.
The woman had been allowed too much control over him already.
What other reason could there be for him blurting out the truth about his relationship with Samuelson? He’d done his damnedest to forget it over the years. What other reason could explain the direction of his strategizing for the last couple of days? Every plan he and Reynolds had plotted out for bringing down Samuelson had all had the same flaw. They all meant Ava would be ruined in the process.
Even if he didn’t use her in the man’s demise, she’d get caught up in the fallout. That was unavoidable. And why the hell, he wondered bitterly, gesturing for the guardsman to leave his weapon at the door, should he care about that? Now, when Samuelson’s destruction was within reach, why would he start worrying about a woman he hadn’t even known two weeks ago?
It couldn’t be allowed, he thought grimly, opening the door to allow the guardsmen to precede him. He stepped inside the quarters, weapon ready, and surveyed Gonzalez’s familiar contemptuous expression. He couldn’t afford to be weak when he could imagine what Samuelson was planning. He was through playing defense with the man.
And he was through—he’d have to be through—worrying about Ava Carter.
“You will interpret for us,” he told the guardsman tersely. The man, Eduardo Vasquez, looked uneasy. But when Cael gestured for him to pull up two chairs the man did so, sinking slowly into one with a nod from him.
Remaining standing, Cael surveyed Gonzalez. The man stared back unrepentantly. He made a short remark that had Vasquez fidgeting, sliding a glance toward Cael but not quite meeting his eyes.
“The captain…he say that you are…uh…”
“I’m aware of his opinion of me,” Cael said drily. He lowered his weapon but didn’t reholster it. “Believe me, it’s reciprocated.”
Vasquez screwed up his brow, but Cael didn’t bother to explain further. Instead he took the free chair and turned it around so he could sit on it backward, resting his arms on its back.
“You are a liar,” he said clearly to Gonzalez. “And now we have proof of that.” He waited for Vasquez to haltingly interpret before reaching in his shirt and withdrawing a stack of photos. He handed them to the guardsman, who looked through them, clearly puzzled.
“Give them to the captain,” Cael directed, watching carefully as the younger man approached Gonzalez. But he did as directed, dropping the batch of pictures in the man’s lap before returning to take his seat again.
“I assume you will recognize the man in the picture.”
Gonzalez stared at him a moment longer, insolence etched in his expression.
“You ought to, anyway. He’s your nephew.”
When Vasquez translated, Gonzalez’s eyes widened. He picked up the pictures awkwardly with his bound hands and looked down at the top one. Any doubt Cael might have had was erased when he saw recognition and shock flare in the man’s expression.
“The date and time he was caught on camera at your bank coincides with when the deposit was made into your account. You remember. The dep
osit you don’t know anything about?” Cael’s tone was caustic. Vasquez spoke in rapid Spanish, his earlier unease seemingly dissipated in the face of the news.
“The chief…he say his nephew would not do such a thing. There must be another…how do you say it…explanation.”
“I have a real good idea what that might entail,” Cael put in grimly. “We’ve got unexplained cash appearing in Gonzalez’s account and his nephew at the scene at the same time. Couple that with the fact that his nephew seems to have disappeared, and I’d have to be an idiot to believe his protests of innocence.” He grinned sharkishly. “I’m not an idiot.”
After a swift give-and-take in Spanish, Vasquez reported, “The chief cannot explain that. He worries about his nephew. That perhaps he was made to do something and now a bad thing has happened to him.”
“You know what worries me? That maybe his nephew is working for Ramirez. That Gonzalez is, too. And that he’s still lying about it, hoping to avoid a firing squad for his betrayal of his president.”
Vasquez was silent for a moment. His expression, when he turned back to the captain, was forbidding as he translated.
“You are wrong about him. He say he would protect the president with his life.”
“Sure.” Cael nodded, tapping the side of his Luger with his index finger. He watched Gonzalez’s eyes track the movement nervously. “That probably explains his giving an extra remote to Fuente and keeping its existence from the president. Who else has he given a remote to? How many copies has he made?”
Vasquez translated in a rapid spate of Spanish and Gonzalez shook his head vehemently as he answered. His protest was cut short when the younger man heatedly responded again, his retort effectively silencing the chief.
“He denies that he ever gave Marissa Fuente a remote. Or that he made any extra copies of them. I told him what I told you. That I saw him give it to her one day in the palace. That I had left something in the hall and had come back for it.” Vasquez’s tone was bitter. “He lies now. Because I saw that with my own eyes. It is hard not to think he lies about everything.”
Gonzalez looked from one of them to another, his expression growing panicked. He spoke pleadingly, his earlier bravado vanished.
“He admit it now. That Miss Fuente pleaded so prettily for a remote and he only agreed because he thought the president knew. She promised him so.”
“Hard to know what to believe,” Cael said in a hard tone, staring at the man with antipathy rising. There was little as despicable as a man who sold out his own to line his pockets. “Should I believe him a traitor or merely an incompetent fool? What would he believe, if all this evidence was gathered and implicated one of his men?”
When Vasquez translated, Gonzalez remained stubbornly silent.
Cael fought to rein in his frustration. “Ask him what he was plotting. Did Ramirez plan for the next assassin to use Fuente and her remote to get him inside the palace walls? Or was he going to send a little present along in the trunk of her limo sometime? Given the bullshit security Gonzalez was providing, it wouldn’t have been too difficult for Ramirez to pack an explosive in a car that would be given access to the palace’s inner perimeter.”
The chief shook his head violently as Vasquez translated. A moment later the guardsman reported, “He say he was guilty of an error in judgment but not of betraying the president. He would protect the president with his life.”
The chair clattered to the floor as Cael lunged from it. Closed the remaining distance to the captain and pressed his weapon against the man’s temple. “You put de la Reyes’s life at risk.” He struggled to rein in the temper surging. “By doing so you put your country’s stability at risk. You’re either a miserable excuse for a security professional or you’re collaborating with a scumbag drug dealer. Which is it?”
Gonzalez went very still, his eyes squeezing shut. And for a moment, for one dangerous second, it wasn’t the captain of the presidential guard sitting there, waiting for death. It was Dennis Allen Samuelson. A lifetime of resentment became a cauldron of frothing emotion. He hauled in a breath, fought for control.
And slowly, slowly tipped the barrel of the gun up. Stepped back. When he was sure he had his restraint on a leash, he spoke again. “The satisfaction of your death belongs to your president, not to me. It’s him you’ll answer to. Him and your country.”
It was with great care that he left the quarters. Locked the door behind them. Reset the security system. His actions were automatic. They didn’t require thinking. Right now, Cael desperately didn’t want to think.
Because he didn’t lose control. Not ever. And it was staggering to consider just how close he’d come in there to doing just that.
“I thought Chief Gonzalez was a great man.”
He started a little. He’d half forgotten that Vasquez was still there. The younger officer’s gaze lit on his face for a moment. Slid by him.
“He hired me for this position. Impressed on me how important it was. My duty to protect the president. I thought he was a hero.”
Vasquez headed in the direction of the guards’ barracks, a dejected slump to his shoulders. And Cael knew the officer had learned a valuable lesson that day. He’d never have a case of hero worship again. No one would ever be regarded without a tinge of cynicism.
His disillusionment might strengthen him in the long run. Maybe then he wouldn’t disappoint himself the way Cael just had earlier.
With his free hand, he rubbed at the knot of muscles bunched in his neck. Perspective was deserting him, at the worst possible time. The absence of Reynolds and Perez left them more shorthanded than they’d already been. They still had several more days before the other expected operatives would be joining them.
And Ava just might be right after all. Maybe he was allowing his hatred of Samuelson to blind him. In more ways than one.
Or maybe it was his growing obsession with her that was blinding him. Settling in for a long stint, he leaned a shoulder against the exterior wall of the house. He needed to clear his mind. Think like a soldier instead of a hormone-ridden teenager. He had Samuelson in his sights. He couldn’t afford to be distracted with worries about fallout for her. On a mission, nothing could detour him from his target.
He had to remember that. And he needed to regain his famed dispassion, quickly. Before this whole thing went to hell around them because he was wasting time focusing on her.
* * *
“Ms. Carter.”
The imperious tone grated Ava’s nerve endings. She slid her gaze to Marissa Fuentes, who was gliding up to her wearing a gown more suited for life in a brothel than a quiet day at home.
“I am quite parched. You will bring me flavored water.”
Ava read the gleam in the woman’s eyes. She knew damn well Ava wasn’t going to do her bidding. The same way she hadn’t obeyed any of the last hundred commands the woman had made since she arrived. She issued them for one reason only. To get on Ava’s nerves.
Since she’d learned it was the surest way to return the favor, she looked away and assumed a bland expression. The woman was bored here. Ava had known she would be. De la Reyes had resumed his schedule of meetings and teleconferences during the day, leaving Fuente at loose ends.
Of course, she amended silently, the woman rarely rose before noon so she didn’t have all that much time to fill. It was unfortunate for Ava that she’d decided baiting the only female operative on the security detail was her favorite pastime.
Fuente snapped her fingers, dangerously close to Ava’s nose. “Did you hear me? I want it now.” When Ava still didn’t answer, the woman smirked and turned to the guard nearest her. In Spanish she said, “Perhaps she is deaf as well as dumb. She will not be of much use to my Tonio if that is so.”
From the corner of her eye Ava saw the guard start to smile before he caught her looking at him. He quickly sobered, saying nothing. And there was no ripple of reaction from the other guardsmen, either. Something had changed since she�
�d chewed them out the other day. She could at least be thankful for that.
Tiring of the game, the woman changed tactics. Surveying Ava critically from head to toe, she said, “How does a woman such as you hope to interest any male dressed as you are? You look like a man, I think, with clothes that hide any curves you might have.” She paused, but Ava remained quiet. Her expression grew sly. “Or maybe you are a woman who is not a woman. Maybe it is not a man you are wanting to attract, si?”
Temper spiked through Ava’s system. Leaning forward, she murmured, “You want to know what kind of woman I am? I’m the kind of woman who’s going to kick your ass if you don’t get out of here and let me do my job.”
Fuente quickly took a step back before catching herself. Smoothing a hand down her gown, she tossed her hair. “I will speak to Tonio about your attitude. You are nothing but the help and you would do well to remember that.” With that she swept away and out the door. De la Reyes, on the other side of the room on the phone, didn’t seem to notice.
But some of Fuente’s words had left a mark. Because Ava was increasingly wondering what kind of woman she was, too. She’d never been one to make excuses for a man’s behavior. Had no patience for women who did. She’d learned at fifteen how to cut her losses and move on. Her boyfriend’s profession of eternal love had died a quick and brutal death when she’d told him she was pregnant. She damn well hadn’t hung around begging for more.
So it was pretty hard to understand the chemistry that, God help her, still flared to life whenever she and McCabe were in the same room. He’d threatened her. Tricked her. Stated his intention to blackmail her. She ought to be wondering how to get away with shooting him, not speculating about the bombshell he’d dropped earlier.
DHS agent Samuelson was Cael McCabe’s father.
It was hard to wrap her mind around that. And even more difficult to keep questions from skirting the edges of her concentration, when she should be focused totally on de la Reyes.