The Mercenary

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  Twelve

  “Who is this Marisa who helped you?”

  Tyler rolled up the sleeves of his uniform and sat down on the chair beside Westin’s hospital bed. They were in the infirmary at the British base in Belize. Westin had regained consciousness nearly immediately when given an IV. He’d been dehydrated and half-starved. But he would be fine.

  “She’s a linguistics expert,” he finally said in answer to Westin’s question. The flint-eyed man was in a hospital gown, propped against pillows, with tubes running into his arms, and still he was a commanding presence. “And she’ll be back in Embassy service quicker than we can say spit.”

  “You had to work with her.”

  Tyler nodded. “She was…useful.”

  Westin made no comment to that. “And Ricky Mercado has been useful, as well.”

  Again Tyler nodded. “We never talk about Haley’s death. It’s…” He didn’t know what word would adequately describe the tension that still existed between Ricky Mercado and the rest of his friends who’d been present the night Haley had drowned. “Easier,” he finally settled on. “Everyone’s been debriefed. He went to notify Luke that we got you out.”

  “And how is Luke?”

  “Last I saw him, he was still in the hospital, recuperating. I guess you knew about his undercover work.”

  Westin didn’t deny it. His sharp gaze pinned Tyler, making him feel uncomfortably like a raw recruit again. “What’s on your agenda now?”

  Tyler shrugged. “There’s a consultation in Geneva that I was asked to participate in before I came down to Central America. It’s sometime this fall, I guess. There’s also a class they want me to teach out at the base at Mission Creek. But that all sounds too tame for me these days.”

  “And Marisa?”

  He sighed. “What about her?”

  Westin looked impatient. “I had nothing but time down in that hole, Tyler. You’ve been a hostage, you know what I mean. A man does a lot of thinking in circumstances like those. You worked with this woman. You haven’t done that in years.”

  “I told you, she was helpful.”

  “She means something to you.”

  “Sir—”

  Westin lifted a hand. “Hear me out, son. Then you go do whatever the hell it is you want to do.” His lips twisted wryly. “You will anyway. You’re a lot like me, Tyler. That isn’t necessarily a compliment. I let myself focus too hard on my career once. And because of it, I walked away from the one woman who ever meant anything to me.”

  He shifted, uncomfortable. “Sir, it’s none of my—”

  “Shut up, Tyler, and listen to me.”

  Tyler shut up.

  “I knew Patrice in college. She wanted to get married, but I wanted the rest of the world. I just couldn’t see a compromise between our two lives, so I walked away. And regretted it ever since.”

  “Sir—”

  “I kept up with her.” Westin’s hard blue gaze was turned inward. “From a distance. She never knew about it. I knew when she got married. When she had her first child. And her second and her third. It’s a hard thing, Tyler, watching the woman you love live a full and complete life without you.”

  “Sir—”

  “That’s all I’ve got to say, son. You just think about it some before you go tearing off to fight your next injustice.” Then Westin closed his eyes, effectively dismissing Tyler, never giving him an opportunity to say that he had no intentions of letting Marisa go. He just didn’t know whether she’d have any intention of staying.

  “Ma’am, this fax came for you this afternoon. I also believe these are yours.”

  Marisa turned at the clipped British accent. The young, clean-cut soldier held out a sheet of white paper and a small manila envelope. She took them from him. “Thank you.”

  He nodded once and disappeared, his hard shoes clicking on the tiled corridor.

  They’d been at the British base in Belize for nearly a day, yet Marisa had seen neither Tyler nor Westin since their chopper had carried them all to safety. It was almost as if she’d ceased to exist.

  Except that she’d just spent several hours sitting in this cold, barren office, being debriefed by men she’d never before seen.

  She looked out the window again. The helicopter that Tyler had summoned still sat out on the square of concrete. She didn’t know why the sight of it comforted her. Tyler could leave, if he hadn’t already, by any kind of means.

  She sat down at the table, and with nothing else to do, tore open the envelope. All the identification that Tyler had taken from her that day at the airfield slid out in a pile on top of the fax. She squared them all and slid them into the pocket of the khaki shirt-dress she’d been loaned.

  She read through the fax from Ambassador Torres and sighed a little. He’d kept his word. The new ambassador would appoint her to his staff within a week.

  She moved the fax to the center of the table and stared at it for a long while, then turned with a start when she heard a noise outside the window.

  The helicopter was taking off.

  She left the office at a run, turning corridor after corridor, finally bursting through the metal doors that led out to the field. But all she could see was the bottom of the chopper as it flew away.

  Her feet carried her out to the spot where it had sat all day and she watched through a blur of tears until it flew from sight.

  He’d left.

  It didn’t matter whether Tyler had fallen for her or not. He would never forgive her for keeping the truth about Franco from him. She’d gotten just what she deserved.

  “Marisa.”

  And now she was hearing Tyler’s voice on the breeze. She chewed at her lip. He’d told her she was strong, yet just then she felt like collapsing.

  “Marisa.”

  She dashed away her tears, turning resolutely toward the building. She was strong. He’d told her so.

  But the sight of Tyler standing there made her stop short. Her heart seemed to jump into her throat and it took her a moment to form the words. “You didn’t leave.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Didn’t know I was supposed to.”

  “No.” She turned and waved her hand at the departed helicopter. “When the helicopter left, I thought for sure you were on it.”

  “I wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye, M.” He held up a sheet of paper, and she recognized the fax that she’d left on the table in the office. “Congratulations. Looks like you’re getting everything you wanted.”

  Her eyes burned. “Not everything,” she managed.

  Tyler’s eyes sharpened. “Franco is headed back home?”

  “Two soldiers are driving him back. They left quite a while ago.” She pushed her hands in her pockets to keep from twisting them together. “Not that there was much of la Fortuna for him to go back to even if he’d wanted to.”

  “The sleeping quarters were left intact.”

  “I was told that.” No matter what Franco had planned, Tyler had deliberately kept from taking innocent lives. “The communications center in the mansion was destroyed, though. El Jefe will have to scramble to regain even a portion of its control on the region.” She tilted her head. “Obviously that pack of gum of yours had something to do with it all. But I don’t see how something so small could do so much damage.”

  He was looking at the fax, folding it precisely in half. “I’m good at what I do. But it’s not a very easy thing to accept what I do sometimes,” he said.

  Marisa pressed her lips together. “Sometimes necessary things aren’t easy,” she said. “Someone I know told me that.” She had to force the words past her tight throat.

  “And sometimes necessary things are as easy as breathing.”

  She didn’t know what he meant by that. “Tyler, I’m sorry I kept the truth from you. If I had to do it over again, I—”

  “God forbid.”

  Her lips pressed together. “Of course. Silly of me.”

  “Seeing you in danger, Mar
isa, I couldn’t take it again.”

  Her breath stalled and hope congested her nerves. “What?”

  He held the fax out to her. “Embassy service will suit you.”

  She took the paper and pushed it into her pocket. “Actually I’ve decided to turn it down.” She’d come to that decision when she’d read the fax.

  He looked stunned. “Why?”

  “Because I’m done trying to please my parents by making a marriage they approve of, or taking a career that my mother can brag about. It’s time for me to live my life on my terms. I love them, and I know they love me whether or not my mother can ever bring herself to admit it.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  She swallowed. What had she accomplished in her life if not for taking chances? “I’ve been hearing about an interesting town in Texas,” she said, taking a step closer to him. “Mission Creek, it’s called. No rain forest in sight, which pleases me no end. I’m a good waitress. A good interpreter. I still have to finish that paper on the long-term effects of video game usage by myopic users. Though I’ll have to get a new copy. My other one happened to be destroyed in a plane crash. Beyond that, I think I’ll play it by ear.”

  “Is that your only requirement?”

  She tilted her head back, looking into his face. He’d showered and cleaned up, just as she had, and looked unbearably handsome in his uniform. “It’s where the man I love lives.” She lifted a shoulder. “That’s my only requirement.”

  He smiled a little, drew a loose curl away from her cheek, and her heart raced.

  “What if he goes to Geneva in the fall?”

  “French is spoken in Geneva. He may need an interpreter. Parlez-vous français?”

  His smile widened. “I don’t know, M. You’re good at watching a guy’s back, but traveling with you can get a little out of hand.”

  “Maybe I just need someone to show me how it’s supposed to be, Murdoch.”

  He closed his hands over her face and gently lifted it. His eyes were serious. “I have a requirement of my own.”

  “What?”

  “That you don’t teach our kids Spanish before me. I love you, Marisa, but on this I’ve got to put my foot down.”

  She laughed, her tears escaping. She went onto her toes, kissing him, loving him. “It’s going to take me fifty years to figure you out, Tyler Murdoch.”

  His hands swept down her back, holding her tight. “Then the first fifty are yours,” he murmured in her ear. “But after that, it’s my turn.”

  Epilogue

  “Welcome back, Luke.”

  How many times had he heard just those words? Too damn many, Luke Callaghan figured. Someone had gotten a chair for him and as he sat there, he conjured a vision of the lobby of the Lone Star Country Club, where it seemed as if half the town had gathered.

  Voices and laughter and music rose through the two-story lobby. Footsteps seemed loud against the pink granite tiles, and he even imagined he could hear the sound of the fountain over the commotion caused by the crowd.

  It was his welcome home party, but Luke had never felt less like celebrating. He shoved at the sunglasses he wore. Unnecessary, as far as he was concerned, since he couldn’t see one damn thing. Not one face, not one friend. Not one enemy.

  His hands curled, frustration racing through him.

  “Hold on to that,” a voice said beside him. He felt the cool squat glass nudged against his hand, and he took it.

  He recognized Tyler’s voice. “I didn’t think you were back from Central America, yet, buddy. Last I heard, you were still down there frolicking on the beach with some looker named Marisa.”

  He heard his friend laugh softly. “And miss this big do? Hell, Luke, you know me better ’n that.”

  “Yeah, a big damn party, while my baby girl is in the hands of God knows who.”

  Luke heard the scrape of a chair on the tile, and knew that Tyler had sat down beside him. He heard the soft clink of ice against glass. “I would’ve come back sooner if I’d heard about that. Lena’s definitely yours, then?”

  “The DNA test confirmed it.”

  “Is there anything new from the feds?”

  His jaw ached. “No.”

  “And there’s been no ransom demand?”

  “No.”

  “Kind of odd, don’t you think? Why else would someone kidnap Lena if not to milk you for some of your millions? The kidnapper must have known what we didn’t until recently. That Lena was yours. So, why no ransom demand?”

  If he knew that, he’d be one step closer to finding the daughter that he hadn’t even known he’d had until recently. “Josie has a lot of pictures of her,” he said roughly. “My daughter. And I can’t see the damn things. I don’t even know what Lena looks like.”

  “She’s beautiful,” Tyler admitted. “And you’ll be seeing her soon enough.”

  “It’s gonna take a miracle, Ty.” Luke wasn’t sure he believed in miracles these days.

  “I thought the docs said your blindness was temporary.”

  “Yeah, in a best-case scenario.” Luke’s voice dripped sarcasm. “They don’t know anything for sure. Any more than we know for sure that Lena is ever going to be found. Or if she’s even still—” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

  Tyler clasped Luke’s shoulder in a steady grip. “Miracles can happen, bud. If that’s what it takes, then that’s what you’ll get.”

  A cloud of perfume assailed them, and Luke braced himself only moments before a feminine cheek pressed against his. “It’s so good to have you home, Luke, honey.”

  He made himself smile, and was glad when the perfumed one moved off. “Who the hell was that?”

  “Bitsy O’Malley.”

  “Who?”

  “You dated her a few times last year.”

  “Oh.” He dismissed the woman from his mind. He wasn’t interested in any woman these days, except for the one who’d left their daughter in a carrier on a golf course nearly ten months ago. “And since when do you believe in miracles?”

  “Since her,” Tyler murmured.

  Luke heard Tyler stand and he knew more people had neared them. He stood also, hating feeling like an invalid.

  “Marisa, this is a friend of mine, Luke Callaghan. Luke, say hello to Marisa. My fiancée.”

  Luke absorbed that. He heard the note in Tyler’s voice, a note he’d never had before. “Well, well. Fiancée, huh?” He felt a real smile tug at his lips, and unerringly lowered his head to kiss the woman’s smooth cheek. “Now I know why Tyler’s been babbling about miracles. Much happiness to you. But are you sure you know what you’re taking on?”

  “Absolutely,” Marisa said in a pretty, slightly accented voice. “It’s good to meet you, Luke. There’s someone else here, too.”

  Luke found his hand clasped in a hard, firm grip. A grip he knew. “Colonel Westin.”

  “Good to see you up and around, son.”

  “You too, sir.”

  “I hear that you’re having some trouble ’round here, again. You let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

  “No, Luke. I appreciate what you’ve done for me. You and Tyler and the rest who didn’t give up on me. Now, do me another favor.”

  “Anything, sir.”

  “Don’t give up on finding your little girl. You boys are better at what you do than anyone else. If you don’t like what the Bureau is saying, then work around them.”

  Luke slowly nodded. Westin was right. Blindness, temporary or not, didn’t mean that he was incapable. He still had his brains. And he still had his friends. “I won’t give up,” he assured them all, suddenly feeling better than he had in weeks. “Not ever.”

  While the rafters of the Lone Star Country Club were being raised during Luke’s welcome home celebration, rafters were being raised in nearby Goldenrod. Only there, it was from the impatient wail of a little lady with black hair and vivid blue eyes.

 
Erica Clawson shushed the baby. If Frank came by while the little mite was screaming her head off, he’d be angry with her. And Erica hated it when Frank got angry. She much preferred it when he was all lovin’, and sweet-talking, and focusing entirely on her, instead of thinking about his old fiancée, Haley, or this baby.

  She gave up trying to distract the baby with the stuffed toy and scooped her out of the crib, snuggling her close. She really was a sweet thing. Erica could almost feel bad for Daisy, who had to be going out of her mind knowing her kid had been snatched from the Carson Ranch.

  But if Daisy really was Haley Mercado, back from the dead, then Erica’s sympathies about dried up. She’d do anything for Frank. But she had no intentions of sharing him.

  She pressed her lips to the baby’s forehead and wandered out to the small kitchen. “Come on, Lena,” she said gently. “How ’bout you and I have some peaches?”

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Allison Leigh for her contribution to the LONE STAR COUNTRY CLUB series.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-7207-5

  THE MERCENARY

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