Chapter Nine
Laura drifted awake, warm and comfortable. The thin lumpy mattress felt like a real one, but she let thoughts of her tiny Puerto Escondido room fade away as sleep tugged her back.
Not right...
Someone had been beside her, radiating warmth.
José Antonio... He must have come home late and left early.
No, that wasn’t right.
José Antonio was dead. Killed. So long ago she struggled to remember his face. His voice. But she’d felt him.
Feel.
And it all came rushing back.
Mark. Here.
Her eyes flew open. He sat sprawled across from her in the wooden chair, bare-chested, legs outstretched, ankles crossed, head back against the wall. Asleep. She forced herself to remain still.
He’d offered to stay with her, had tucked her beneath the covers, stretched out on top and taken her in his arms.
She had no memory of him leaving the bed.
She allowed herself the pleasure of examining his chest, well-muscled and appealingly sprinkled with light brown hair that glinted gold in the sunlight drifting in through the window high on the wall. His hands, big and strong, seemed relaxed against his thighs.
Except, he never relaxed. Ever. From the first moment she’d met him, he’d been on guard. Acutely aware of his surroundings.
He shifted, as if trying to find a comfortable position, and crossed one leg over the other’s knee. The movement molded the jeans to his thighs.
Laura’s breath hitched. She couldn’t look away. Her nipples tightened.
She should clear her throat, cough, do something to wake him.
But she wanted to take him in.
His breathing altered. He straightened. And opened his eyes.
She waited through agonizing moments, wondering what he would say. Do.
“You’re awake.” He ran his hand through his hair, stood, and stretched, his gaze never leaving hers.
Oh how she wanted to pretend sleep, ignorance. Indifference.
She nodded.
She should close her eyes. If she did, maybe—
No. She wanted to watch him.
Eyes still locked to hers, he walked to the side of the bed. She scooted over. As blatant an invitation as she could manage. He sat.
And even before he braced himself with one arm and looked down at her, she knew.
She wanted this. Him. Just as she’d wanted the reassurance he’d given her last night. Only now she needed to touch him.
“I should leave,” he whispered in a rough voice, his hair mussed, as he looked at her. He’d shaved for Ruiz’s job, but now, stubble glistened along his jaw and chin.
She placed her hand on his thigh.
His pupils dilated and filled the dark gold of his eyes. As he lowered his face toward her, she consciously kept her eyes open. She wanted to see, to remember clearly.
He’d kissed her before, but that had been for show. There was no one here now, nothing tentative about the pressure of his lips on hers. Nothing tentative about his tongue touching the corners of her lips. She opened her mouth to his. Her eyes drifted closed, her awareness centered on the lush kiss robbing her of breath. Pleasure suffused her.
Then, his mouth still fused to hers, he was on the bed, tumbling her over until she lay on top. He pulled his mouth away, and bereft of his lips, she opened her eyes.
The angles of his face were sharp, his eyes hooded. She held herself up, pushing against the narrow mattress on either side of his shoulders. Tempted to taste, she lowered her face to kiss the strong pulse that beat at the base of his neck.
***
Mark’s breath hissed out as he clutched Laura’s bottom, aligning their lower bodies. This was madness.
God help him, he couldn’t control his racing heart or the thrust of his hips against hers.
She gazed down at him, her dark eyes intent on his mouth as she pulled at her lower lip with her teeth, then ran her tongue across it.
He wanted to feel her mouth on him again, taste her.
Her hair tumbled against his cheek. He caught the ends of it with one hand, feeling the softness. The white gown gaped open, her breasts, full and ripe, constrained only by a single button. Her nipples pushed against the thin cloth.
The button took no effort, and her breasts lay bare. Raising his head, he kissed his way down her chest until he could take one nipple into his mouth.
The taste of her, rich and erotic, burned through him.
She moaned and arched her neck upward.
Sanity hit him like a blast of dynamite. He released her nipple and forced himself to lay back.
He couldn’t do this. Not with the horrible untold truth between them, not when she’d allowed him into her bed because of her fear for her child. Because as much of a son of a bitch as he was, she mattered. More than mattered.
He soothed her with gentle touches along her neck and back all the while fighting the urge to tumble her over and be done with it. But she deserved more.
Someone else. Someone better. Someone like her husband.
He rolled them onto their sides. Her eyes were closed, her face radiant. He wished he could be that someone. For her. But he wasn’t.
Exactly why he’d gotten out of the bed hours earlier. She’d called out in her sleep. “Querido,” she’d said. What she’d called Victor Fuentes while she pretended to be his wife.
She’d been dreaming of her husband.
“This isn’t right.” He didn’t want to take that glorious look from her face. He wanted to give, not take.
She opened her eyes and looked at him as he lay, hard and aching. Then she pulled her gown together, grasping the material in a fist between the breasts he still wanted to worship, blew out a small breath between lips swollen from their kisses, and rolled out of bed.
Then she was all business. As if nothing had happened, as if his body wasn’t in agony, his heart pounding a mile a minute.
The temptation to explain, to tell her everything, flashed through his mind. What would she do if she knew? She would hate the man he was and never trust him again.
She spun around and headed for her backpack, on the floor beside the chair. Her hair, which had tumbled around them moments ago, lay heavy against her back.
He sat up. “I’m sor—”
“There’s no need to be,” she said.
Not true. He had to make her understand. No, he had to make it clear there couldn’t be any more temptation. They couldn’t be awkward around each other simply because he didn’t have any damn self-control.
Even though he wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, he stood and kept his hands at his side. “I’m sorry about this—”
“No, please—”
“Laura,” he said. “You needed someone last night. I understand that. I only wanted to help and this morning I—
“I understand,” she said, refusing to meet his gaze. “You said before it was…a simple physical reaction. I know, I understand—”
“Reaction?” Not what he’d said, was it?
“I know it’s nothing more.” She took a breath. “Maybe some sympathy.” She looked at him then. Her cheeks were flushed and she held her clothes clutched to her chest in an effort to cover herself.
Sympathy? Last night maybe, but no way in hell had sympathy played any part in what happened between them just now.
Fate had to be laughing. What a joke. The one woman he not only admired, but wanted more than he’d wanted any woman, and he had to make her believe the passion between them was nothing.
That would allow him to get the boy back, and once that was done, he might able to forgive himself. For that to happen, she couldn’t know how his life had collided with hers long before he ever laid eyes on her.
“Look,” he said drawing a deep breath, “situations like this, danger, fear, can confuse things. It’s easy to get carried away by proximity and reciprocal attraction.”
Her gaze skittered away from his.
Okay, time to be a total dick. He took the few steps to the door, determined to walk away. His damn hand actually shook when he grabbed the doorknob. “You are a beautiful and desirable woman.” He gave her one last look over his shoulder before adding, “Sex is a physical distraction we can give each other. Nothing more. Let me know if you’re interested.”
***
If she was interested?
Por Dios. She’d almost had sex in an abbey. Okay, an abandoned abbey turned clinic. But still.
Laura buried her face in her hands. If Beatrice or one of the other nurses or aides had walked in, they would have gotten an eyeful.
She’d made it pretty clear she was interested. But Mark hadn’t followed through. He’d held her close so she could sleep. It was nothing.
Stop! Enough with nothing.
There had obviously been something.
“¡Ay!” she said aloud around a tiny bubble of hysterical laughter.
She stripped off the nightshirt and slipped on shorts and a clean T-shirt. But as she slid her feet into her tennis shoes, she couldn’t help but wonder.
What if they hadn’t stopped?
***
Mark tossed his backpack on the floor by the back door of the clinic, then walked to Victor Fuentes’s room. A young nurse or aide sat in a chair beside the agent.
“How is he?” Mark whispered.
Fuentes opened his eyes.
“Better,” the woman replied.
“You are the man who helped me,” Fuentes said in a weak voice.
“Yes.” Mark turned to the nurse. “May I speak with him alone?”
The woman nodded and left the room.
“Calamities are a way of life,” Mark said, reciting the coded message given to him if he made physical contact with the San Matean.
Fuentes studied him from behind swollen eyes.
Yeah, no trust. Smart at this point.
“Water,” the agent said finally.
Mark raised a glass with a straw to the man’s lips. He took a sip then let his head rest against the pillow again as he studied Mark.
“Calamities are obstacles,” the agent finally said, returning the contact code.
“What went wrong?” Mark asked.
“I heard Ruiz and his wife arguing. Outside by a bungalow.” Fuentes paused, took a breath. “She yelled at him, asked what he had done. I saw a woman and boy through the window of the bungalow.”
“Did you recognize them?”
“No.” Fuentes closed his eyes momentarily. “I walked closer.” He took a shallow breath. “Guards from the city warned me away.” He took another breath. “The woman inside was arguing with a body guard. He hit her. The little boy tried to help her. Later I was wakened and taken to the garage.”
“Did they tell you why?”
“They said I worked for Ruiz’s enemies.” Fuentes licked his lips. “I said I did not.”
“Did Ruiz say anything to you?”
“I didn’t see him again. He doesn’t dirty his hands. Gonzalez hires men for that. It was someone I don’t know. Someone he keeps on the side...” The agent’s voice faded, then he roused himself. “For times when he needs enforcement with those who surround him.”
“Did they say anything? Explain why?”
“They wanted me to say I was a spy. I told them I wasn’t.” The agent struggled to stay awake. “They never believed me.”
“The nurses will take care of you. Tell them who to contact and they will.”
Fuentes nodded, eyes closed. “I’ll need new identity papers. My wife, she should be told.”
“I’ll contact Emilio Estrada.” Estrada was the Interior Ministry’s agent in charge.
“You must be careful. Estrada cannot be discovered…” Fuentes trailed off, his eyes closed, but moments later, he opened them again. “There’s bad blood between him and Ruiz.”
Mark watched as Fuentes drifted to sleep.
Quiet footsteps from behind told him the nurse had returned.
“The newspaper, señor.” She held out a newspaper. “Perhaps you would like to read.”
Mark thanked her and read the bold headline.
His blood ran cold.
***
Laura saw Mark go into Victor Fuentes’s room and decided to clear her head before facing him. In the kitchen, she found a pot of coffee and poured a cup.
“Laura?” a woman asked.
She turned and saw a woman dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “Julie?”
“Beatrice told me there were visitors.” The dark blond walked toward Laura with a smile, arms open. “But she didn’t tell me who.”
Laura hugged her, then stepped back. “It’s so good to see you,” she said in English. The American, step-daughter of San Mateo’s UN ambassador, was the last person she expected to find here. “I called a few times last month, but wasn’t able to catch you at home.”
Julie smiled. “I’m away a lot.”
“I heard about your breakup with Chris Ponce.”
“Chris is a wonderful man. Very kind.”
“But?”
Her friend’s eyes darkened. “I have a propensity for men who disregard their safety for the sake of the greater good.” Julie’s fiancée had died along with José Antonio at the hands of Primero de Mayo. Chris was a DEA agent Julie met two years ago.
“Ricardo wouldn’t want you—”
“Ricardo isn’t here, just like José Antonio isn’t,” Julie said, with a sad smile. “We have to live our lives knowing what can happen,” she added. “You, my friend, are in a mess of trouble.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the small kitchen table. “Sit, please. How do you plan to get out of the country?”
Trusting her long-time friend who worked for a charitable foundation was a no brainer for Laura. Everyone knew about her situation, but she wouldn’t endanger anyone with the fact that Ruiz had Tony.
“I’ll probably try to cross the border into Monte Blanco.” Laura pulled out a chair and sat.
“There was a cross-border shooting yesterday. It’s not safe.”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Beatrice said that a couple had arrived. You and…?”
“I, um, have someone helping me.”
“She seems to think there’s something between you and this man.” Julie smiled. “Something about seeing him leave your room this morning?”
“It’s not what you think,” Laura hurried to say. “He was just keeping me company. So I could sleep.” Lame!
“Mm,” Julie teased. “Beatrice also said the man with you is gorgeous.”
Laura laughed. “She said that?”
“She’s a woman.” Julie smiled and shrugged.
A change of subject seemed best. “What are you doing here?”
“Picking up supplies. I’m on my way to the clinic and orphanage beyond Paraíso.”
“I know it’s your job, but that whole area is dangerous, Julie. Too close to Primero de Mayo’s area of operation. You know this.”
“With my step-father saying some not so nice things about Ruiz, I think I’m safer there than in the city.”
“Oh, Julie, you should go to the American embassy. They would help you.”
“But we both know that if I try, Ruiz could grab me. You haven’t gone to the embassy for the same reason, right?”
Rather than answer, Laura asked, “So how will you get out?”
“I’m not sure,” Julie said. “For now, I just need to isolate myself. I’m needed at the orphanage. It’s a good place to hide.”
“I wish you would find someplace else.”
“There’s no place safe from that man. You know that.” Julie shook her head. “My step-father has received threats in New York. Your father was very brave to stand up to Ruiz.”
“And very foolish. He’s let this vendetta against Ruiz ruin our lives.”
“Don’t you hold him responsible for your brother’s death, too?”
“I have no doubt he’s to blame. But for my father… The reality may be more complicated than that. My father wanted Manolo in the army. Sometimes I think that my father blames himself and the only way to forgive himself is to stay after Ruiz, no matter what. He should have known Ruiz would fight back. Now—” She almost said it. Almost said Ruiz had Tony. But Julie was better off not knowing. “Now my father and I are hiding.”
“His men will help him.”
“If he allows them to. I’m afraid he won’t risk them so they can continue to gather proof of Ruiz’s crimes.”
“What I’m hearing is that Ruiz will find a way to either discredit President Valdivia or push him out of power.”
“You’ve been closer to all of this than I have. Do you think he can?”
“I’m afraid so. I would prefer to believe that the people won’t stand for it, but Ruiz has made himself into a hero to some. People want simple solutions, someone who tells them he can solve all their problems with simple catch-phrases.”
“No one can.”
“No, but that doesn’t change beliefs. Ruiz knows how to play people. He’s truly dangerous to the country,” Julie said. “I hope he doesn’t catch your father.”
Laura sighed. “Me, too.”
“So, tell me about this man you spent the night with.” She looked over the rim of her coffee cup.
“There you are,” Mark said from the door.
Laura hoped Mark hadn’t heard her friend.
Julie did a quick assessment of Mark, then turned back to Laura, her brows raised, a knowing smile on her lips.
Mark walked toward them, his expression serious, his eyes dark.
“What’s wrong?”
He held out a newspaper.
She saw the headline and gasped. “¡Por Dios! They captured my father.”