Accidental Commando

by Ingrid Weaver

  “The follow-through couldn’t have been complete if seven years later someone from the cartel has the means to hire an assassin.”

  “We suspect someone connected to the Juarez family contracted the hit, but we don’t know for certain who it was.”

  “I’ve asked both you and Major Redinger why you don’t trust the police. You’ve both avoided the question.”

  He thought before he replied. There would be no harm in being honest about this, too. It might keep Emily safer. “It’s no secret that the previous administration was corrupt. A large portion of the police force was on the Juarez payroll as well. That’s something you would find in the local papers, since many officers were prosecuted or dismissed.”

  “So you must suspect there are still some rotten apples.”

  “We have to assume there are.”

  “Of course. That’s how El Gato would have been able to get the bomb into the reception hall. You told me the public areas were patrolled by police. They could have been bribed to look the other way.”

  “That’s my guess.”

  “And that’s why you didn’t want me to call the police when El Gato broke into my hotel room. They wouldn’t have done anything.”

  “Worse. They might have enabled him to eliminate another witness.”

  She turned her head to look at him as they walked. “You really did save my life.”

  He smiled. “My pleasure, ma’am.”

  She looked at his mouth. “If the Rocamans want to develop a tourist industry, they’re going to have to clean up the police force.”

  He lifted his hand from her shoulder to stroke the ends of her ponytail. “That’s the Rocaman government’s concern, not ours. We’re only here to guard the envoy.”

  She started at the contact. “What are you doing?”

  “Playing with your hair.”

  “There’s no one around now. You don’t have to hang on to me any longer.”

  He dropped his arm and took her hand. “It doesn’t hurt to maintain a cover,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Look around us. Most of the people in the plaza are in groups or in couples. They’re out for an evening stroll. We should try to blend in.”

  “We’re not a couple.”

  “To anyone watching we are.”

  “You know what I mean. You and I are not a couple. Our relationship is strictly business. I thought I should make that plain.”

  In spite of her words, her fingers warmed within his. And despite his best intentions, he vividly remembered how good her fingers had felt when she’d slid them across his chest…and when she’d opened his belt. “You’re saying this because of what happened yesterday.”

  “Forget it,” she said.

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  “I agree. I shouldn’t have kissed you, either, Tyler.”

  “It had been a long day. We were both on edge from adrenaline. Given the circumstances—”

  “There are any number of excuses. It doesn’t change the fact that it was a mistake. That’s why we should forget it.”

  He knew she was right. The smart thing to do would be to agree with her and end this conversation. He’d intended to say much the same thing all day, but they’d never seemed to have enough privacy.

  Yet there was something about the sound of distant music in the tropical night, and the feel of her hip grazing his as they walked, that made him hesitate. He might have to continue the charade as far as her story was concerned, but this was one aspect of their relationship he could be completely honest about. “It’s not possible for me to forget that kiss, Emily. From now on, I’ll be remembering it every time I climb a staircase.”

  “Okay, if you want to get literal about it, I won’t be able to forget that kiss, either. It was just an expression. But I do think we should clear the air. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression, regardless of how I, uh, behaved.”

  “Ah, you mean you don’t want me to think that you’re a passionate woman.”

  “That’s a kind way to put it. We’re practically strangers, and I was crawling all over you like a bad rash. That’s not like me. I don’t normally—”

  “Make love in a dark stairwell?”

  “To be blunt, no.”

  “Who chose your wardrobe?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The red lace garter belt and the scrap of a bra I saw on your hotel room floor. All the lingerie I saw in your suitcase. That silky thing you wore the other morning that didn’t want to stay on your shoulders. They’re the choices of a woman who enjoys her sexuality.”

  They had reached the grove of palm trees that was across from the hotel when she stopped dead and turned to face him. “Oh, my God. Is that why you kissed me? Because you saw those clothes and thought I was easy?”

  He swallowed a laugh at the absurdity of her question. “There’s nothing easy about you, Emily. That’s another reason I wanted to kiss you.”

  “What the heck does that mean?”

  “You’re strong. I find that very attractive.”

  “Strong?” she repeated. “You’re way off base there. If I were strong, I wouldn’t have bought all those pathetic clothes that you saw. I wouldn’t have paid to come to Rocama in the first place. I wouldn’t have trusted the last man who kissed me.”

  Tyler caught her chin. He was the last man who had kissed her. He was surprised how much that mattered to him. “Why would you say the clothes were pathetic?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Do you want to know what I think?”

  “No, especially if it’s going to involve some metaphor about armor.”

  “You’ve probably convinced yourself that you bought all that sexy underwear because of the scuzzball, but the truth is, you bought it for yourself.”

  “Of course, I did. It wouldn’t have fit him.”

  He tapped his finger to her lips. “No wisecracks, Emily. No arguing, either. I know he hurt you.”

  “Right, and I let him.”

  “That’s the real source of all this anger I’ve been seeing, isn’t it?” he asked, moving his finger to the frown line between her eyebrows. “You’re blaming yourself, not him.”

  “Why not? It was my mistake. I should have noticed what he was sooner. I should have realized it was all an illusion. I should never have trusted—” Her voice broke. She blinked hard and fanned her hand in front of her eyes. “Now look what you’ve done. I told you I never cry.”

  He pulled her closer to the nearest palm tree and clasped his hands behind her waist. “How did that underwear make you feel, Emily?”

  “I’m not going to discuss—”

  “Did it make you feel strong? In control? Like a woman who wants to celebrate her body?”

  “When I bought it, and when I packed it, yes. When I looked at it again once I got to the hotel…” She rubbed her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m talking about this with you.”

  “Why not? I’ve seen you naked. No amount of sexy underwear could improve on that.”

  She placed her palms on his chest. “Tyler…”

  “Did he ever see you in it?”

  She fell silent, then slowly shook her head. “No. I bought it for our honeymoon.”

  Tyler settled her closer. “Then he was your fiancé.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the wedding?”

  “I canceled it. He’d never intended to show up to it, anyway. He’d just been going through the motions to keep me happy. By the time I found that out, there was nothing I could do about the deposits for the hall or the photographer, but I figured, why waste a perfectly good honeymoon?”

  He dried her cheek with his knuckles. “So you came to Rocama on your own.”

  “Spent my wedding night on my own, too. How pathetic is that? And drank all the complimentary champagne and ate all the goodies that came with the honeymoon suite, even though I knew I’d regret it in the morning. But I was feeling so sor
ry for myself and so damn mad at the world and men and all the stupid fairy tales I’d been idiotic enough to believe in when I’d been a kid that I couldn’t think of anything else to do. Going on a honeymoon alone was a lot better than staying in Packenham Junction.”

  He stroked her jaw, picking up more tears on his fingertips. The flow was quiet but steady, as if she’d been saving them up. “I’m sorry, Emily.”

  “Don’t be. All of it was my fault. I made my own choices. I trashed my life because I trusted a man. Huh, imagine that. Me, Emily Wright, who can chew guys up and spit them out if they get in my way. Anyone back home can tell you that. I’ve been using words to drive males away since my first article was published by my school newspaper in the ninth grade. I don’t have a romantic bone in my entire beanpole of a body. But I swallowed Christopher’s lies hook, line and sinker. I gave him everything. My love, my trust and every penny I had.”

  “He took money from you?”

  “Yes, indeed. Most of it, I’d inherited from my great-aunt Beatrice. Maybe it wasn’t much by city standards, but it would have bought a nice house where I come from. That’s what I’d been saving it for. Until Christopher came along, anyway. He was a buyer for a big antique dealer, and he’d claimed he had the inside track on a collection of rare coins that would have made us a fortune. It was an investment in our future. Our life together. Why wouldn’t I help him out?”

  “What happened?”

  “There were no coins. I was scammed, Tyler. He’d done it before. That’s what the cops told me. He’d been preying on single women since he’d flunked out of college. It was his pattern to use what he got from one victim to finance his pursuit of the next one. I’d thought we’d been living off his money, but it had been from the last woman he’d scammed. He’d barely waited for my check to clear before he disappeared. I had filed a missing persons report. The fraud squad showed up instead. That, as they say, was my first clue.”

  Though she’d tried to be flip, she couldn’t disguise the pain in her voice. He laid his palm against her cheek, helpless to do anything but listen. “Did they ever find him?”

  “I heard he was arrested two days before I came to Rocama.” She inhaled on a shaky laugh. “Sometimes I think it would have been better if I’d found him in bed with another woman. Then at least his betrayal would have been personal. I could have pretended there had been passion between us. I could have yelled and thrown things. That would have been a more satisfying ending to our engagement than finding a bunch of cops in suits searching our apartment.”

  “It might have been a scam for him, but it was real for you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to love someone, Emily. Cut yourself some slack.”

  “Oh, no. The warning signs had been there but I hadn’t wanted to see them. I should have known it was too good to be true. I should have realized he didn’t really want me—” She stopped and pressed her lips together, then shoved away from him and wiped her eyes. “No. I’ll save the rest of this for his trial. I’m not going to shed another tear for that bastard. Because that would be truly pathetic.”

  “Emily…”

  She turned away. Her back was stiff as she fought to regain control of herself. “I’m going to the library now, Tyler. I’m going to do some research.”

  He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “We can come back tomorrow. You don’t need to work tonight.”

  “Wrong. I do need to work. This article is the first positive thing that’s come into my life for a long, long time. Right now, it’s all that’s giving me a reason to keep going.”

  Tyler brushed a kiss over the side of her head. The scope of her fiancé’s betrayal was far worse than he could have guessed. The trust she’d shown by opening up about it was humbling. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to hit something. Hell, he wanted to get Emily alone and make love to her until she forgot about the last man who had used her.

  Only, that would be him, too.

  Chapter 6

  Emily carried her notes to the window seat, sat at one end and loosened the belt of her robe so she could draw up her legs. The palace was already stirring. Quiet voices rose from the courtyard below as a group of gardeners in green coveralls weeded their way across the flowerbeds. Down the hall, a door closed quietly from the direction of the envoy’s suite. She guessed she’d have another thirty minutes at most before Tyler came to let her know the schedule for the day.

  She wasn’t sure how she’d face him. It had been hard enough having to act cool the morning after their kiss. What she’d done last evening had been even more intimate.

  She’d confided in him. That was something she rarely did. Confessions were considered community property in her family, indeed in much of her town, so she’d learned early on to keep the things that hurt the worst to herself. Although the bare facts of her farce of an engagement had become public knowledge back home as soon as the fraud squad had shown up, she’d never shared her pain with anyone. No one would have expected her to, anyway. She’d spent too many years honing her defenses and her reputation. Not many people bothered to look further.

  Yet with a few quiet words, Tyler had opened the floodgate. She’d been helpless to stop before she’d poured out the whole sordid story. She should be feeling horrible and awkward and prickly enough to screw a set of sharp spikes into her armor.

  Only, she didn’t feel bad. She felt good. Better than she had in days. Weeks. Tyler had told her she was a passionate woman. A strong woman. Then he had listened without judging and had dried her tears and held her hand as if he truly cared.

  She ground the heels of her hands against her eyes. Her imagination was running away with her. Tyler’s sisters had probably taught him how to be a good listener. He was a nice guy, that’s all. And for all she knew, his sympathy could have been in the line of duty, so her emotional state wouldn’t stop her from helping the team identify El Gato. He’d said as much before, when they’d been on that first stakeout. And only yesterday he’d reminded her that his duty always came first. She’d be a fool to read anything more into it.

  Taking a deep breath, she picked up her notebook and opened it to a fresh page. Regardless of how…therapeutic her confession had felt, getting material for her article was her only goal. She’d made that clear last night. It’s why she’d gotten up at sunrise, so she could go over what she had gathered and start fleshing out her notes. It was already day five of the mission. Only another four days and it would be over. She had to keep her priorities straight, the same way she was sure that Tyler was.

  She leaned over to read the sheet that was on top of the stack of printouts beside her knee. The pile was smaller than she would have liked, since most of the newspapers in the library archives had been in Spanish. This item supported what Tyler had already told her about the widespread corruption among the local police. Though it appeared the worst offenders had been weeded out, she was grateful that Tyler had stopped her from contacting them. She jotted down the main points, cross-checked with other articles to ensure she had the dates and names correct, then worked her way through the rest of the pile.

  She intended to hold Helen Haggerty to her word about an interview when the mission was over. She would probably need to hold off on revealing anything about the proposed base until the government was ready to make an official announcement, so maybe she could combine that with an in-depth piece on the envoy. Either way, she would still have the jump on any other reporters. Who knows, if Emily were lucky, Helen might feel grateful enough for her help on this mission to give her contacts in the government that could lead to other stories.

  Yet that was for the future. She needed to establish her credentials first if she wanted to work in the big leagues. It was the article on Eagle Squadron that was going to open the doors for her. Being embedded for this mission was the chance of a lifetime. The personal details that she had gathered about the commandos so far wouldn’t go to waste, either. Describing the personalities of the soldiers behind the missio
n would add a depth to her writing that no mere press release could duplicate.

  She closed her notebook, picked up her camera and began to click through the photos she’d taken during the excursion to the Juarez compound. She’d been frustrated by the restrictions on photographing within the palace, but as it turned out, she couldn’t have asked for better lighting or a more dramatic backdrop for the team than the lush tangle of Rocama’s rain forest. Though her camera was only a low-end digital model, all she’d needed for her job at the Packenham Observer, some of these shots could pass for professional quality. They would be more than adequate to illustrate her article.

  She’d caught the major’s granite jaw perfectly, as well as the silver at his temples. As she’d suspected, he looked pure military even in civilian clothes. She’d snapped a picture of Kurt Lang sharing a quiet laugh with Gonzo while they went about the grim business of checking their weapons. Another of Duncan and Jack, looking rugged and protective as the petite, gray-haired Helen Haggerty walked past them. But the best photo was of Tyler. He was walking ahead of her, with his head partly turned so that his profile was backlit by a shaft of sunlight. The effect softened his features in a way that hinted at the sensitive man beneath the controlled facade.

  It was amazing how deceptive appearances could be. At first glance, Tyler looked cool and distant. Christopher had been the opposite. He’d been convivial and charming. Handsome, too, with soulful brown eyes and a ready smile. He’d liked to talk even more than Emily did. They’d met at an estate auction near Madison when she’d been scouting around for an antique washstand to fill an empty corner in her apartment. One cup of coffee had led to another, and they’d ended up talking until dawn at an all-night diner.

  She’d been flattered by his attention. Looking back on it, she could see that very first marathon conversation had given him the key that had allowed him to play her. Because only a very lonely woman would stay up all night to talk with a stranger. He’d picked up on other cues and exploited them, too: her impatience with the limitations of her small town. Her restlessness with her job. And most important of all, her yearning to be loved.