No One to Trust

by Iris Johansen

  “Have you located Destin?” Chavez asked.

  “He’s in Antigua. We’re on our way.”

  “Be very persuasive, Gomez.”

  “He’s there with his wife and little boy. We don’t anticipate any trouble.” Gomez hung up.

  Yes, it was often easier to use the wife and children of a target to gain information, Chavez thought. He had done it himself on many occasions.

  Destin had a son.

  He felt a sudden surge of anger. He also had a son, but he’d had no opportunity to teach and guide him as Destin had. It must be the ultimate thrill to mold a human being in your own image.

  His son …

  She couldn’t take her gaze off Galen’s hands as he poured the coffee. Powerful hands, nails cut short, the fingers long and graceful and capable. She felt the heat move through her as she remembered how capable.

  “Dessert?” Galen asked.

  She looked up to see him smiling at her. Bastard. He knew exactly what she was thinking. “No, thank you.”

  “Sure? It’s apple pie. Barry cut the dough for the crust.”

  She smiled at her son. “Then I’ll have to try it.”

  “I’ll help.” Barry jumped off the chair and ran after Galen into the kitchen.

  She heard them laughing and chattering.

  “He likes Galen.” Dominic paused. “But not as much as you do.”

  She stiffened. She had been waiting for him to make a comment. He knew her too well not to realize what was going on between her and Galen. He would have had to be blind, she thought ruefully. Galen had never made any physical move toward her in anyone else’s presence, but he had kept his promise. He never lost an opportunity to touch her, and she had moved from wariness to anticipation. Admit it: not anticipation, lust. Her whole body readied when he walked in the room.

  “Don’t look so apprehensive,” Dominic said. “I’m not judging you. I know what kind of hell you’ve been through. If Galen helps, I’ll be grateful to him.” He hesitated. “But I admit I’m worried. You really know very little about him. He’s a complicated man and not the most stable.”

  She knew what an understatement that was. “I’m not looking for a lifetime commitment, Dominic. I may never see him after we leave here.”

  He still looked troubled. “Forgive me. It’s none of my business.”

  “Yes, it is.” She reached over and covered his hand with her own. “We’re family.”

  He smiled. “We are, aren’t we?” He returned the pressure of her hand before releasing it. “Did I tell you Barry has a new tune he wants to play for you on the keyboard?”

  “Jesus.” Galen rolled over, bringing her with him. His breathing was labored as he fought for air. “Or should … I say, eureka.”

  Oh, God, she was shaking. Elena’s fingers dug into his shoulders. “Don’t talk.”

  “Have to talk—happy.” He hugged her close. “Am I damn good or what?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said unevenly. “It’s just an orgasm.”

  “It’s a home run, a touchdown, a first million on Wall Street.”

  “And you’re giddy as a loon.”

  “Yep.” He hugged her close. “See, it didn’t take so long. Nothing wrong with you that Galen couldn’t fix.”

  “The master problem-solver.” Her smile faded. “Challenge met. Problem solved.”

  “No way.” He snuggled her closer to him. “Just a giant step. It’s going to take a long, long time to perfect the process.”

  How long? she wondered suddenly.

  You really know very little about him.

  Yet she felt as if she did know him. She knew his body and his wit. She had laughed with him and shared danger. But she knew what Dominic meant. Did you ever know anyone until you knew what made him what he was?

  He lifted his head. “What’s wrong?”

  As usual, he had sensed what she was feeling. “What could be wrong?”

  “Tell me.”

  She looked away from him. “It might be nice to know a little more about the man who gave me my first orgasm.”

  “Nah, mystery men are always more sexy.” He studied her. “You mean it.”

  “I realize I have no right to pry into your—”

  “Shut up,” he said roughly. “You want to know something. Pry.”

  “Why do you do this kind of work? You seem to have plenty of money. Why take the chances?”

  “It’s what I do. I get bored. I tried to quit a few years ago and nearly went bananas. I have no calling. I can’t paint pictures like Judd. I’m just a provider and a problem-solver.”

  “You get restless.”

  “Did you ever consider that you might too?”

  She shook her head. “I have an anchor. I have Barry.”

  “I envy you.” He added lightly, “As my mum used to say, there’s nothing better than a steadying influence.”

  “Did she?”

  His smile faded. “No, I never knew my mother. I grew up in an orphanage. They found me in a cardboard box in an alley.”

  She gazed at him, shocked. “Then all those pithy little quotes are lies? Why?”

  He shrugged. “It started when I was a teenager. I think I was drunk at the time. The irony appealed to me. Putting all those homey bits of wisdom in the mouth of a woman who didn’t give a damn for me … Later it just got to be a habit.”

  “You don’t know what she was facing. Maybe she had to give you up.”

  “No.”

  “I almost gave up Barry.”

  “Did you drop a newborn baby in an alley when the temperature was below freezing?”

  “She did that?”

  “Oh, yes. She obviously wanted me to die. But I fooled her. I became the healthiest, meanest little son of a bitch that ever came out of Liverpool.” He sighed. “And now I’ll never be able to quote my dear old mum to you again. It’s going to put a crimp in my conversation.”

  “I’m glad. I don’t want to hear about her.” She wrapped the sheet around her and stood beside the bed. “Unless you want to name that price we talked about.”

  “Price?”

  “I told you I’d do anything you wanted me to do. I wouldn’t mind killing your dear old mum.”

  “My God, you’re furious.” He laughed. “I should have known you’d go all soft and sentimental over the thought of a wee babe out in the cold.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not soft.”

  “I know.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “That’s what makes this such a golden moment.”

  She felt a melting deep inside. “Damn you.”

  He turned her hand over and kissed the palm. “And we’ve had a good many golden moments, haven’t we?”

  “A few.”

  “Damned with faint praise.” His eyes were twinkling as he looked up at her. “Come back to bed before you start calling me an asshole again.”

  “It’s time I went to my own room.”

  “Just a little while,” he coaxed. “No sex, just cuddling.”

  She hesitated, then lay back down.

  His arms enfolded her. “This is good,” he whispered. “Would you really have put down dear old mum for me? Now, I think that’s caring.”

  “Be quiet.” She nestled her cheek in the hollow of his shoulder. “It was only a fleeting impulse. Even as an infant you probably deserved to be thrown out in the cold.”

  “Stung again.” He stroked her hair. “I don’t like the idea of you charging out to defend me anyway. It offends my sense of gallantry.” He paused. “I’d be happier taking the initiative myself.”

  “With your mum?”

  “No, with Chavez.”

  She stiffened.

  “Shh.” His hand moved to massage the taut muscles of her nape. “I don’t like to talk about it either. But I don’t want you making a move without our discussing it.”

  “What’s to discuss?”

  “You know it’s only a matter of time until
Chavez appears.”

  “You said you’d be told when that was likely to happen.”

  “I will. But why wait like sitting ducks? Why not let me go hunting and take Chavez down?”

  “No!”

  “Why not? It’s the sensible thing to do. It will keep any fight with Chavez away from you and Barry.” He paused. “You were planning on leading him away from Barry, weren’t you?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “It’s much more reasonable to let me do it before he even has an inkling where you are. Then, if he takes me down, you and Barry still have a chance to run.”

  “It appears I’m not that reasonable.” Her voice was uneven. “Or that callous.”

  “Think about it. I was going to do it without telling you, but it’s safer if we coordinate our strategy and—”

  “I’m not going to think about it. This is my life and my fight.”

  “What about Barry?”

  “I’ll protect Barry. I’d never risk him. I’ll find a way to do both.”

  He was silent a moment. “I can do this, Elena. I’m very, very good. Stay with Barry and let me take care of Chavez.”

  “Do you think I don’t want to say yes?” she asked fiercely. “I want him dead. It shouldn’t make any difference to me who kills him. But it does, dammit. It does.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I—It does.”

  “Clear.” He chuckled. “Could it be you’re beginning to care a bit for me? Yes, that must be it.”

  “Why would I care anything about an asshole like you?”

  “Well, it might be because you sense that I’m willing to throw my heart out on the ground and let you trample on it.”

  “Stop joking.”

  “Who’s joking?” He brushed her temple with a kiss. “It’s a surprise to me too, but I find I’m bloody helpless around you. I feel like a mooning kid again. But don’t let it worry you. I’m a very patient bloke and I know you have a few problems to work out.”

  “Don’t let it worry me? How generous of you. But you tell me that—”

  “I thought you should know. I don’t know where it’s going to go or how far it’s going to take us, but I don’t believe in holding things back.”

  “Particularly when you want to run out and get yourself killed.”

  “That wasn’t my intention. I’m not into last hurrahs. I was merely—”

  “I don’t want to talk anymore.” Her arms tightened around him. “And I’m tired of cuddling.”

  “Sex? Glad to oblige.” He rolled her over. “Even when it’s a form of escape, sex is good.” He smiled down at her. “But I have to warn you, there’s going to come a time when I’m going to call it something else.”

  He was asleep.

  Elena carefully moved Galen’s arm from around her shoulders and slipped out of bed.

  She paused a moment, gazing down at him. He was sprawled on his side, and yet he still possessed that catlike grace even in sleep. Most people appeared defenseless when sleeping, but Galen didn’t. He looked as if he was only resting, waiting for the opening bell so he could spring up and once again enter the fray.

  Stop looking at him. Get out of here. Tonight he had confused and frightened her. She had been so absorbed in pleasure that she hadn’t thought of anything beyond sex; she didn’t believe Galen had either.

  Or, if he had, she supposed he was thinking about “solving her problem.” Maybe whatever Galen felt for her was impossible to separate from the effort he’d put into helping her. In six months he’d probably be involved in another project and forget she existed.

  And what about how she felt about him? She instantly shied away from that thought. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel this softness whenever she was around him. She had Barry and Dominic, and they were more than enough hostages to fortune. She was weakening too much already. If she hadn’t been weak, she would have let him go after Chavez. No one was more important than Barry, and it made no difference who killed Chavez.

  But she hadn’t been able to let Galen go on the hunt.

  Which meant it was getting close to the time she must go on the hunt herself.

  “Your helicopter pilot, Carmichael, is dead,” Manero said. “And it wasn’t easy. If he knew anything you didn’t want Chavez to know, then you’d better regroup.”

  “He didn’t,” Galen said. “Chavez was bound to have found out it was me who snatched Elena and Barry. When did it happen?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe four weeks. He was in Rio before he disappeared. They just found the body in a village outside the city.”

  Four weeks. Then Chavez had definitely had time to get a massive search under way for Galen. He’d hoped for more notice. “Chavez is still in Colombia?”

  “Sitting like a fat cat on the top of his hill. I told you I’d let you know when he made a move.”

  “Okay, okay.” He had thought about this eventuality and it was time to run a check. “There are a few people who could tell him where I might be located. John Logan, Sam Destin, and Paul Russell. I need to know where they are and if they’re having any problems. Tell them about Chavez. Warn Destin and Russell they’d better go underground for a while. Logan can take care of himself. They probably won’t touch him.”

  “I usually don’t work outside South America. A man has to have his specialty.”

  “But you have contacts everywhere. I don’t have time to get anyone else. I’ll pay double.”

  “Why didn’t you contact Destin and Russell before?”

  “With enough money, even honest men can be bought. I didn’t want them to have time to think about selling me out.”

  “I like money too.”

  “But you’re an honest man in your way. Bad for you, good for me.”

  Manero sighed. “Double?”

  “Double.”

  “Give me the background info.”

  “You know about Logan. Paul Russell buried the paperwork on this place. Sam Destin referred him to me. Destin lives in New Orleans. Russell’s home base is San Francisco. Destin won’t be difficult to find, but Russell’s in trouble with the IRS and he floats around. You can usually reach him through his mother, Clara Russell. She works for Macy’s.”

  “Right. I’m on it.”

  “Thanks, Manero.” He hung up.

  Shit. He had liked Carmichael. Galen had warned him to get out of South America when Carmichael dropped them in Medellín. Why the hell had he settled in Rio? He should have—Stop thinking about him. Carmichael had known what he was getting into when he took the job. He had realized how powerful Chavez was in South America and had made a mistake and paid for it. This wasn’t the time for Galen to dwell on Carmichael’s mistakes. He had to be sure not to make any of his own.

  Time was running out.

  It might have run out already.

  “Problems?”

  He turned to see Elena standing in the doorway. “Not yet.” He stood up. “Come and help me make dinner. Barry’s deserted me since Dominic’s been teaching him to play that keyboard. Just can’t get reliable help these days.”

  “You’re holding something back.”

  “Carmichael’s dead, presumably killed by Gomez.” He started for the kitchen. “But he didn’t know anything important. We’re still safe.”

  “Chavez?”

  “Still in Colombia. Like this apron? Judd bought it in town.” He tied on a gaudy green apron with dancing red chili peppers wearing ballet tutus and blue tennis shoes. “He thinks I won’t wear it.”

  “It’s perfectly ridiculous.”

  “Yep, but I don’t feel threatened. My masculinity overcomes any challenge. Besides, it makes me smile.” He took out a frying pan. “I need a smile now. I liked Carmichael.”

  “I’m sorry. Was he a good friend?”

  “No. But I’d known him for a long time.”

  She was silent a moment. “He’s dead because of me.”

  “He’s dead because he didn’t get t
he hell out of Dodge. You shouldn’t feel guilty.”

  “I do feel guilty.” She stared directly into his eyes. “But it wouldn’t stop me from doing it again. I can’t worry about anyone but Barry. I can’t let anything else matter.”

  “You’re not talking about Carmichael. I scared you last night, didn’t I? I knew I would.” He got a paring knife out of the drawer. “Get those red potatoes out of the bin, will you?”

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “Of course I am. You’re scared you may feel something for me and you’re warning me that you might have to sacrifice me on Barry’s altar.” He got the potatoes himself. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve known that all along. We’ll get through it. Barry has the edge, but give me another six months and you’ll be surprised what inroads I’ll make.”

  “Galen, I don’t want—”

  “You’re going to say we shouldn’t sleep together again. Don’t be hasty. You like sex these days. You like me. I won’t be discouraged no matter how far you distance yourself, so we might as well enjoy. Right?”

  “Wrong.”

  “Okay, I’ll compromise. Just until we hear Chavez is on the move.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “You’re worried about my tender feelings?” He grinned. “No problem. Maybe I’ll get tired of you. You know how restless I am.”

  She was silent for a moment and then smiled with an effort. “You really do look ridiculous in that apron.”

  “Just for that you can peel the potatoes.” He handed her the paring knife. “Sit over there at the table where I can watch you.”

  “You don’t trust me to do it right?”

  “It’s not that,” he said quietly. “It just makes me feel good to look over and see you. It … warms me.”

  “Damn you, Galen.”

  “Don’t get all misty. Can’t help it. My mum always said I was an optimist who—oops.”

  “Oops, indeed.”

  “It’s going to be difficult not relying on old Mum.”

  “Who knew you were an optimist.”

  He nodded. “And that I believed in enjoying the moment. So sit over there and let me enjoy this one. Okay?”

  She gazed at him with a multitude of expressions flitting over her face before she slowly moved over and sat down in the chair he’d indicated. “Bring me those potatoes.”