When they talked, they both seemed to tacitly agree to stay away from the subject of El Jefe and la Fortuna.
He learned about the interpreting projects she did on the side, but found it difficult to picture her wearing a pink waitress uniform, serving up coffee and flapjacks at her other job. He also figured she must have been little more than a teenager when she’d met the creep she’d almost married.
He, on the other hand, told her about life in Mission Creek. About the two families—the Carsons and the Wainwrights—who were the backbone of the town, and the guys he usually played a round of golf with on Sunday mornings when he wasn’t out on assignment.
Her eyebrows had nearly skyrocketed when, at her skepticism, he’d insisted that his foursome really had found a baby there at the LSCC. The foursome that Luke would have been a part of if he hadn’t been down in Mezcaya trying to fight his way to Westin. Now, Luke was injured and pretty much in shock that the baby they’d found could possibly be his.
When Marisa had commented on Tyler’s unusual talkativeness, he’d shrugged it off. How could he admit that by revealing something of himself, he’d been hoping she’d do the same? That she’d give him some understanding of the real reason she was in on the mission to save Westin. All he ended up doing, though, was grow more curious about her.
The farther they trekked, the more he wondered about that shadow, deep in her eyes, that seemed to become darker with each mile. Was it because they were nearing El Jefe’s territory? Or was it for some other reason?
He didn’t know.
But he did know that he had to deal with their tracker. And soon. Another day wouldn’t pass before the guy would be on to them.
“We’ll stop here for the day,” he announced, knowing Marisa was puzzled, but also knowing that she was exhausted and not likely to argue. “It’s a good spot. You can get, uh, a shower.”
Halting beside Tyler, Marisa slid off the daypack. Her glance slid to the sight just ahead. “It’s a waterfall,” she said. Then she flushed at the absurdity of it. Of course, he knew that. The spray of the falls cast such a fine mist that it nearly reached where they stood in a grassy clearing, about fifty yards away. “Did you know we were coming up on it?”
“Is that a polite way of asking if we’re lost?”
She couldn’t quite manage a smile. She was too tired. And whether or not he knew where they were, she certainly did. Now.
She and her brothers and sisters had played too many days under that very waterfall for her not to recognize it.
“Not at all,” she assured faintly. If they were this close to the falls, then they were within miles of her parents’ home. And definitely not heading toward la Fortuna.
The realization made her dizzy and she swayed. Tyler, darn him, noticed and took it for hunger, for he nudged her down to sit on the pack he’d pulled from his own back.
“Eat a protein bar,” he ordered flatly.
“We only have one left.” Again, she stated the obvious, for he had already pulled the thing from her daypack.
He tore open the wrapping and practically stuck it in her face. “Eat it.”
She turned her head away. But she did take the bar and break off a chunk. Then she handed him the rest. “I will, if you will.”
His expression didn’t change. But he didn’t argue and he did take the remainder of the bar. “I’m going to check out the trail for tomorrow,” he said. “You stay here.” He handed her the machete. “Keep that with you.”
Her stomach tightened even more. The bite of protein bar sat uncomfortably as suspicion’s ugly head reared even higher. “Why?”
“We need to get to la Fortuna soon.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” she said slowly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
It didn’t matter that she’d known this man for barely a week. They’d spent hour after hour after hour in each other’s company and she knew his expressions—what few he’d let show.
She knew when he was laughing inside, like when she’d screamed the previous morning upon finding a tiny lizard that had crawled inside her shoe during the night. A small crease had formed alongside his mobile lips.
She knew when he was hurting, because his face went devoid of expression altogether.
She knew when he was thinking about that kiss, because the line of his jaw went even tighter and his dark eyes even darker.
And right now, she knew he was lying.
Something was wrong, and it wasn’t the bruise on his ribcage, it wasn’t their dwindling supplies, it wasn’t anything that they’d been dealing with as they’d climbed up mountains and descended into valleys.
She just didn’t quite know what to do about it. So she sat there, watching him retie his bootlaces and strap a small hunting knife to his belt. “You’ve never checked out the trail in advance before.”
His grunt was noncommittal. And it worried her even more.
“Tyler—”
“Consider it a reprieve from my company for an hour or two. I’m sure you’ll enjoy that,” he said easily. “I’ll be back before it’s dark.”
Her teeth worried the inside of her lip, and she pushed to her feet. She dashed a lock of hair from her eyes. “What if you’re not?”
“Start dinner without me.” His grin was faint.
“Ha-ha. I like ‘stay in the boat’ better,” she said, mimicking his deep voice.
At that, he did smile. Fully enough that it displayed dimples she’d have never known he possessed. Deep, slashing dimples that she could see despite the dark whiskers shadowing his jaw.
It was mesmerizing, she realized faintly. Seeing Tyler Murdoch smile. “How old are you, Murdoch?”
“Thirty-five, and feeling every damn day of it. Why?”
She lifted her shoulder. “You just should smile more often.”
“Now you sound like a woman.”
Her head tilted. “Well, I am.”
“Trust me, M. I noticed that.” He took a step away from her.
“Tyler—” She didn’t understand the urgency that spurred her. But she reached out, caught his arm between her hands. “I do trust you.” And she realized, as she said the words, that it was true. Whether he believed in her or not, it didn’t affect her trust in him. Somewhere along the way, between river rapids, rotting bridges and miles of nearly impassible jungle, she’d begun to trust. And maybe it was just that fact alone that put such a sense of unease in her. “Come back. Okay?”
He brushed his thumb over her chin. “I’m only checking the trail. I won’t leave you.”
She moistened her lips. She truly didn’t understand the nerves slowly choking her. “You promise? You’re not going to la Fortuna without me?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. His eyes narrowed. “Who are you, M.?”
The question should have struck her as odd, yet didn’t. “I’m Marisa Elisa Santiago de Rodriguez,” she whispered. “Native of Mezcaya. Former translator. Current hiking companion.” She swallowed again. “You promise you’ll come back?”
“Yes.”
She forced a smile and let go of his arm. “Well, then, go do your thing. I…I’m going to have that shower.” She plucked at the T-shirt she was wearing. “Freshen up a little. Dress for dinner, you know. I thought we’d go formal tonight, for our figs and mangos.”
He didn’t smile. “Keep the machete with you.”
She nodded, words failing her. Then he was walking away, moving fast down the barely visible trail. And Marisa, keeping the machete close at hand, dragged the backpacks closer to the mist-shrouded pool at the base of the waterfall.
It was a long while, though, before she finally undressed and waded into the mist.
Because if Tyler really were checking the trail ahead, then why had he left the binoculars behind?
“I don’t think it was a good idea to come here,” Josie Lavender Carson murmured as she and her husband, Flynt, entered the Yellow Rose Café at the Lone Star Country
Club.
Flynt helped her seat her very pregnant self. “Staying around the house, making yourself crazy staring at the phone isn’t gonna bring Lena back any quicker, Josie. The FBI is doing everything it can to find her kidnappers.”
The tears that came so easily these days flooded Josie’s eyes and she clung to her husband’s hand as he sat down beside her. She’d never been so grateful in her whole life that she had this strong man’s love as she had been since the day she’d gone in to check on the baby at naptime, only to find her missing.
Flynt’s hand covered hers. He pressed his lips to her forehead and gently shushed her. With a subtle shake of his head, he steered off the waitress who’d been heading for their table. His brother, Matt, was supposed to be meeting them for lunch.
“We’ll get Lena back, Josie. I promise you.” It wasn’t the first time he’d said the words in the last few days.
She moistened her lips, struggling for control. “Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is that sweet baby girl. I’d put that red bow in her hair that morning. It’s her favorite, I swear it is. Her eyes light up like sapphires whenever she sees it. And it looks so perfect with her dark hair.”
Flynt murmured. “I know.”
“What if whoever took her doesn’t know how she loves peaches and loathes peas? What if she goes hungry?”
“She won’t,” Flynt assured gently, though they both knew he had no way of knowing for certain.
Seventy-two hours ago somebody had waltzed into the Carson ranch and snatched, right out from under their noses, the baby who’d found her way into all their hearts. It sent a cold fury right down to Flynt’s soul. It didn’t matter that the little mite wasn’t his.
Finding Lena the way they had that day on the golf course of the Lone Star Country Club had been the start of living again as far as Flynt was concerned.
There they’d been. Flynt, Tyler Murdoch, Spence Harrison and Michael O’Day who’d been filling in for Luke Callaghan that day. Teeing off on the ninth hole. Tyler had been trying to take bets on him having the longest drive and Spence had been challenging it when they’d heard the unmistakable sound of a baby.
The sight of the carrier and the baby inside it near the bushes had stunned them all into silence. The note that had been pinned to the blanket had been hardly legible thanks to water dripping from the bushes. But it had been enough to know the baby belonged to one of ’em. It had been enough to know the mother was nowhere in sight, though they’d done their share of searching.
And since then, since Flynt had decided to take care of the munchkin while they figured out who was really her father and maybe, just maybe, who was the mother who’d been so desperate to leave her child that way, his life had started anew.
For Lena had led him to Josie, and Josie was his life now. Her and the baby growin’ inside her. And until the identity of Lena’s real father was determined, it was Flynt’s duty—hell, it was his privilege—to raise Lena like his own.
Flynt had already lost one family. He wasn’t about to lose one single member of the one he had now.
“We’re gonna find Lena,” he assured his wife once again. And he had a good idea just where to start.
The Wainwrights.
Which was why Matt was meeting them for lunch today. Because his bride, Rose, was a member of that family. And while Flynt didn’t necessarily have a thing against Rose, who seemed to be doing a bang-up job of keeping a grin on his kid brother’s face, he wouldn’t trust any other member of that family as far as he could throw ’em.
The Carsons and the Wainwrights had been feuding since their grandparents’ day, and as far as Flynt was concerned, it would be just like that damn stubborn Archy Wainwright to be at the root of Lena’s disappearance no matter what the FBI had said about the unlikelihood of that.
Josie’s hands were twisting together again on top of the table. He covered them with his hands and waved over the waitress who was bearing a tray loaded with fresh water and coffee.
“Afternoon, Daisy,” Flynt greeted the pretty blonde when she came over to the table. “We’re expecting Matt, too.”
The waitress smiled and set out several glasses of water. “Would y’all like menus today or do you already have your minds set?”
“Flynt, I really don’t think I can eat a thing,” Josie murmured beside him. “Honestly, you could have left me at home.”
“Where you’d work yourself into a worried tizzy. No, I want you with me, so I can take care of you.” He glanced up at Daisy who seemed to be doing her best not to eavesdrop while she stood near his elbow. “My wife’ll have a glass of milk and the small chicken salad. Bring it on out anytime. But I’ll wait until Matt gets here to order. I’ll take some coffee now, though, if that pot you’ve got there is fresh.”
“Flynt—”
“Josie, you have to think of yourself and our baby, too. Neglecting yourself is not going to find Lena any faster.” His quick hand caught the empty coffee mug that tumbled from Daisy’s tray before it could hit anything.
“I’m sorry,” Daisy murmured, distressed. “I couldn’t help… Lena? Something’s happened to the baby?”
Flynt sighed. Beyond Daisy’s slender figure he saw Matt and Rose enter the restaurant. “Yes, Lena has been kidnapped.” Just saying the words made him feel ill.
Daisy looked horrified. She blinked, murmured something about more menus and hurried away just before Matt helped a very pregnant Rose slide into the booth, much the same way Flynt had just done with Josie. Rose was due to deliver shortly.
“No news, yet,” Rose surmised with one look at Josie’s face. Josie shook her head silently. Rose sighed, her face troubled. “I know your daddy thinks mine had something to do with this,” she told Flynt. “Ford called, accusing my father of being at the bottom of it.” She ignored the telling look Matt and Flynt shared, “I know our families have had their troubles, but they wouldn’t do this.”
Another waitress came by, filling Matt’s and Flynt’s mugs with coffee. “For your sake, Rose, I hope you’re right.”
Tyler didn’t waste time feeling guilty for lying to Marisa as he ducked off the minimal trail and rapidly moved through the thick of the forest back toward Blondie. Branches and palms scratched at his arms and face, but he didn’t feel them. He almost wished he’d had a firearm, but maybe it was better that he didn’t.
He was a good shot, but he wasn’t a crack shot.
What he was, was a genius when it came to explosives which didn’t exactly fall into the realm of hand-to-hand. And since the Gulf, he’d spent more and more of his time on the intelligence end of things, traveling the world, consulting, conducting meetings and generally spreading his knowledge where it was most needed. Nevertheless, he was making good time as he jogged through the forest.
Birds scattered by the dozens as he passed by their perches, and in the corner of his eye, he caught the tail of some big cat. It was a wonder that he and Marisa hadn’t had more encounters with the wildlife than they had. Aside from the snake and a few lizards, they’d been pretty well left alone.
Except for Blondie, there.
He figured he’d run a good three miles when he got close enough to the tracker’s camp to smell the guy’s campfire. Sucking in air, he silently made his way closer. “A cliff dweller,” he muttered as he neared. For Blondie seemed to have made his camp near the edge of a canyon similar to the one that he and Marisa had crossed days earlier.
A cliff dweller…and what else?
Tyler had dismissed the supposition that Blondie was some local guy protecting his turf after the guy had followed them for a few days. They’d simply zigzagged over too much ground for that.
A part of him hoped he’d find the guy to just be a poacher, hunting out of season, on land where he shouldn’t be. Or some overgrown hippie who was out living off the land, smoking dope in the privacy of the jungle.
But his gut told him otherwise.
When he stepped into the clearing and
saw the arsenal of weapons Blondie possessed, Tyler knew his gut had, once again, been right on the money.
“Looking for me?” he asked pleasantly and swiftly kicked the rifle right out of Blondie’s hands. He was sick of playing cat and mouse, and he wanted answers. He took the guy down, hard and fast. “You messed up my plane, you jackass,” he muttered as he pinned the guy to the ground. “I oughta kill you just for that.”
“You try,” the other man grunted. His voice was thick with an accent.
German, Tyler thought. Thanks to Marisa’s propensity for muttering in other languages behind his back, he was actually learning something. He pressed his arm even harder against his windpipe. “Who sent you?”
The other man laughed, harsh and breathy from the pressure on his throat. “No one sends me,” he assured arrogantly. With a quick twist, he managed to clip Tyler’s jaw hard enough to make his head snap back.
And there the niceties ended. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t graceful. Blondie knew how to fight. And when he couldn’t seem to take down Tyler with his fists, he knew how to run.
But Tyler wasn’t having any of that. When Blondie headed toward the edge of the cliff, Tyler followed. He dived and tackled the German from behind, and their bodies careened toward the edge. Tyler grabbed a root and halted their progress, locking his arm around the German’s neck. “I asked,” he repeated, his voice soft, deadly, “who sent you?”
“You drug-runners. Each one I bring in, El Jefe pay me.” The German’s fingers scrabbled for Tyler’s face, his eyes.
The gravelly ground beneath them shifted dangerously. “You work for El Jefe.”
“I work for no one. El Jefe pay me. Don’t invade their territory,” the man gasped. “They pay well. You are nothing but a stupid American, flying your fancy little plane down here to score.”
The Mercenary Page 10
