Accidental Commando

by Ingrid Weaver

  “The meeting’s scheduled to start in thirty minutes,” Jack said. “We’ll be bringing the envoy down in twenty.”

  “Check.”

  “The major wants us all there, junior.”

  Tyler’s footsteps echoed from the walls as he ran beneath the arched carriageway. He’d need to change into his suit before he could join the team. It would take him several more minutes to get to the conference room where the envoy’s final meeting would be held. But first, he was going to talk to Emily. Once she left the palace, who knew when he would get another chance? “I’ll be off the air for fifteen. Cover for me, Jack.”

  “Sounds like you’re planning on having radio trouble.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, kid.”

  “So do I,” he muttered. He switched off his radio, tucked his earbud into his pocket and headed across the inner courtyard. He reached the double doors to the portrait gallery just as one was pushed open.

  Emily paused on the threshold to unfurl an umbrella. She was concentrating on the locking mechanism and didn’t see him until she looked up. For an instant, a spark of pleasure lit her eyes but it was quickly doused. “Tyler,” she said.

  He grasped the shaft of the umbrella handle to keep her from moving outside. “Where are you going?”

  She looked pointedly at the suitcase behind her, then tugged at the umbrella. “I’m leaving.”

  “Your flight isn’t until tomorrow.”

  “I’m leaving the palace. I’m going back to the hotel where I can have a phone and room service. I am free to go now that I’m of no further use, right?”

  “I can’t stop you, but I would like to talk to you.”

  “There’s nothing more to say, other than goodbye.”

  He slid his hand down the handle until he touched her fingers. “Please, Emily. You can spare me a few minutes, can’t you?”

  Her cheek flexed, as if she were biting the inside of it. She dropped her hand, then shoved her suitcase backward and stepped aside to make room for him to pass.

  Tyler closed the umbrella and propped it against the wall. The door swung shut behind him, cutting off the noise of the rain. Water dripped from his hair and drizzled down his cheeks, and he thought about how twelve hours ago he and Emily had been sharing a bath.

  She drew the edges of her cardigan together. “You’re all wet.”

  “I was at the garage with Kurt. We’re preparing the cars we’ll use in the convoy.”

  “Oh, right. The major mentioned that.”

  “How’s your arm?”

  “Fine.”

  “Did you get your interview with the envoy?”

  “Yes. She was very gracious.”

  “That’s great.”

  “And who knows, I might be able to publish this one.”

  “How many times do you want me to apologize, Emily?”

  She turned her back to him and moved over to stand in front of the nearest painting. It was a portrait of a swarthy man in what was probably eighteenth-century finery, but she likely hadn’t noticed. She was looking at the floor instead of the canvas. “It’s okay, Tyler. That was my last jab. I’ve pretty well spent my anger. I realize you were only doing what you had to do.”

  “I’ll always regret that we had to lie.”

  “We saved a life. Our country’s getting a base on Rocama.”

  “But we hurt you.”

  She lifted one shoulder. “I didn’t get what I thought I would, but I’ve made a good connection with an influential diplomat. The major’s going to compensate me for my time. Overall, I’m better off than I was when I got here.”

  She was saying all the right things. He should be happy that she’d calmed down enough to be reasonable. But her shoulders were curled, as if she had drawn in on herself. And her voice was too quiet. He would have preferred her to yell some more. It would have meant there was still some passion left.

  He moved behind her. “I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning.”

  She laughed. It was hollow and devoid of humor. “I said a lot. I was blowing off steam. I got carried away. I realize you might find it hard to believe, considering how even-tempered and docile I usually am, but I tend to over-dramatize things from time to time.”

  “You said our personal relationship was over.”

  “It was probably an exaggeration to call it that. How much of a personal relationship could we have? We’ve only known each other a week.”

  “Nine days. Emily, please look at me.”

  She didn’t move. “We met under exceptional circumstances. Things got intense. There’s really not much more to it.”

  “We slept together. I can’t be casual about that.”

  “People have sex all the time. That’s why there are so many people. It wasn’t that big a deal. It’s just that I’ve never done a one-night stand before so I didn’t handle it as well as I might have.”

  “It doesn’t have to be only one night. I’d like to see you again once we get home.”

  She shook her head.

  He’d realized this wouldn’t be easy, not with a woman as stubborn as Emily. He should be patient, but the fifteen-minute window he’d asked the guys to give him was evaporating fast. He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him…and felt his heart turn over.

  She’d kept her shoulders curled so that he wouldn’t notice her trembling. She’d spoken softly so that he wouldn’t hear the catch in her voice. She hadn’t wanted him to see her tears.

  Tyler passed his thumb over her cheeks. “You don’t want to end this any more than I do, Emily. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be crying.”

  “No, Tyler. I’m sad because I realized from the start there could be nothing between us.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have a life to put back together. I have a career to build. There’s also a certain scuzzball’s trial I’m going to testify at. Have you forgotten that this trip was supposed to be my honeymoon?” She lifted her left arm to wipe her eyes on her sleeve. “I knew all along this wasn’t the right time for me to think about getting involved with another man.”

  “Then when?”

  “When what?”

  “When will you think about it? In a month? Three months? Three years?”

  “I can’t put a timetable on how I feel. That’s not something anyone can schedule.”

  “I agree. Feelings don’t have a timetable. Mine didn’t. After only nine days, I feel closer to you than I’ve felt to anyone in my life.”

  She drew in a ragged breath, then walked past him to where she’d left her suitcase. “It was the circumstances, Tyler. Don’t make this goodbye harder than it has to be. You’re a nice man, and I won’t pretend that I didn’t enjoy most of the time we spent together, but if you’re looking for more, I’m the wrong woman.”

  He fisted his hands in frustration. If he went over there and pulled her into his arms, he was sure he could make her respond, but that wouldn’t solve anything. It hadn’t before. “I’m not Christopher.”

  “We had this conversation already.”

  “We started it, but we didn’t finish it. You’re pushing me away because of what he did to you, not what I did.”

  She curled her fingers around the handle of her suitcase. She didn’t reply.

  “You’re fixing all your armor back into place because you’re worried about making another mistake.”

  “Yes, I am. Only a fool doesn’t learn from them.”

  “Giving up isn’t the solution.”

  “Who’s giving up? Didn’t you hear me? I’m going to build my career and put my life back together.”

  “I meant giving up on us.”

  “There is no ‘us.’ You really haven’t been listening.”

  “I’ve been listening to what you haven’t said, Emily. We both know you’ve got a problem with trust. You claim it’s because you can’t trust men, but the truth is, you don’t want to trust yourself.”


  She faced him. “Bingo.”

  “But you can, Emily. Your instincts are good.”

  “What happened this week proves they’re not. I was angry that I was duped, and yes, I took it out on you and the guys, but I know damn well that I was the one really at fault. That’s why I was so furious. I can’t trust my judgment when it comes to my feelings, which is why there’s no future for us.”

  “I won’t believe that. We have a bond. You must have felt it.”

  Her eyes gleamed with a fresh spurt of tears. “Maybe you were only seeing what you wanted to see, too, Tyler. Did you ever think of that?”

  Her words hung in the air between them. And for a crucial instant, he hesitated.

  The doors to the courtyard swung open, sending rain gusting across the threshold. A pair of palace guards strode inside. They were followed by a short man in a long black raincoat. Three more guards brought up the rear.

  Emily wiped her face quickly and rolled her suitcase back to let the men pass, but the short man halted abruptly when he saw her and Tyler. He stepped closer to Emily, switched the briefcase he carried to his left hand and sketched an affected bow with his right. “Hello, beautiful señorita,” he said. “What an unexpected surprise.”

  It was Santiago Kenyon, Tyler realized, the oily minister of culture they’d met the night before. He was probably on his way to the envoy’s meeting, along with the rest of Gorrell’s cabinet. It was odd that he would try to get to the conference room through the portrait gallery. Taking five guards along with him was overkill, too. Maybe it suited his ego. He had to have a giant-size one not to realize he was interrupting a private conversation.

  Tyler stepped to the side to go around the guards and started toward Emily.

  At a snap of Kenyon’s fingers, they blocked his path.

  Tyler glanced at them impatiently. “Relax. I’m with the envoy’s bodyguard detail,” he said. “I’ve got clearance.” When they didn’t respond, he repeated the same thing in Spanish.

  Kenyon set down his briefcase, caught Emily’s elbow and nodded to the guards. “Take his weapons.”

  Tyler shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and held his arms loosely at his sides, automatically assuming a combat stance. He didn’t draw his pistol because he wouldn’t want to risk any stray bullets in such close quarters, but the guards had to realize he couldn’t let them disarm him. “Easy now. There’s obviously a misunderstanding here.”

  “Oh, there’s no misunderstanding at all, Sergeant Matheson,” Kenyon said. “I know exactly who you are. You’re the man who killed Miguel Castillo. Please, give my men your weapons before our lovely Miss Wright gets hurt.”

  It seemed to happen in slow motion. Or maybe everything seemed fuzzy because of the tears that still blurred her eyes. Emily watched in horror as the guards closest to Tyler grabbed his arms and slammed him against the wall.

  “No!” she yelled, lunging forward. “Stop!”

  Kenyon changed his grip from her elbow to her arm and yanked her back to his side. His fingers dug into her bandage.

  The pain stunned her. Emily staggered and fought to catch her breath.

  Tyler pivoted on one foot and whipped the trailing leg in an arc toward the guard on his left. His boot connected with the man’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. As the first guard crumpled to the floor, Tyler had already driven his elbow into the windpipe of the second.

  The other three men were on him immediately. Emily’s stomach rolled at the sound of their fists hitting Tyler’s flesh. “Stop it!” she cried. “Why are you doing this? He’s not your enemy!”

  “You’re wrong, señorita,” Kenyon said. “Tell him to surrender.”

  Tyler closed his hand over the fist of one of his attackers and twisted him backward. There was a noise like a stick snapping. Or a bone breaking. The man screamed and stumbled into one of the paintings. The heavy gilt frame broke apart as it crashed to the floor, sending pieces of wood skidding in every direction. One of the largest ones bounced against Emily’s feet.

  She didn’t stop to think. Nothing was making sense, anyway. So she stooped fast, grabbed the piece of frame in her left hand and swung backward at Kenyon.

  He must have ducked. The wood hit the wall instead. Before she could draw it back to try again it was twisted out of her hand. She felt something cold press against her neck.

  “Enough!” Kenyon ordered. “Tell him to surrender or I will be forced to slit your throat.”

  From the corner of her eye, Emily saw the gleam of a metal knife blade. She looked at Tyler. He had downed the fourth man and had the fifth in a choke hold. Despite the overwhelming odds that had been against him, he was seconds away from overpowering all of his attackers. Whatever was going on here, she knew she would be better off with Tyler than with Kenyon. She gritted her teeth and said nothing.

  “Matheson!” Kenyon called. “Release my man now or she dies.”

  Tyler looked up. The instant of inattention cost him. One of the fallen guards hooked his hand around Tyler’s ankle and pulled him to the floor. Another knelt on his chest and pressed a gun to his temple.

  Emily screamed. “No! Don’t shoot.”

  Tyler glared at Kenyon. “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”

  “That is an idle threat from a man whose life I could end with a snap of my fingers,” Kenyon said. He slid the blade along Emily’s throat until the tip pressed against the skin beneath her ear. “But I believe you’ll both be more use to me alive. For now,” he added.

  Emily held herself as motionless as she could. She hardly dared to breathe. What on earth was going on? Kenyon was in President Gorrell’s cabinet. Why was he threatening her and Tyler? Why were he and these palace guards behaving like thugs?

  Only, they weren’t palace guards, she realized, moving her gaze from one face to another as the rest of the men slowly got back to their feet. She’d seen countless members of the president’s elite guard unit over the course of her week in the palace, yet she’d never seen any of these men. She glanced up and down the gallery, but it remained deserted. Surely not everyone in the palace could be in the conference room already.

  Kenyon barked a series of orders. The men turned Tyler over and searched him for weapons. They pulled a pistol from the small of his back and another one from a holster on his ankle. They had missed the knife he kept in his boot, Emily realized, yet what good would a knife do against guns? He wouldn’t get the chance to use it anyway. They locked his wrists together behind his back with a pair of handcuffs and levered him to his feet. An instant later, her own arms were seized and forced behind her while her wrists were handcuffed.

  Handcuffs? Emily thought. Were they police?

  “How much is the Juarez cartel paying you, Kenyon?” Tyler demanded.

  “I am gaining far more than wealth, Sergeant Matheson, but I don’t expect a mere soldier to understand that.”

  “You’ve got enough to buy these guards,” he said.

  “They’re not real palace guards,” Emily said. “I’ve never seen any of them before.”

  “Yeah. I figured they were fakes from the way they fought. A real guard wouldn’t have gone down that easily.”

  One of the men was holding his right arm against his chest. It was probably broken. He stepped forward and gave Tyler a backhanded blow with his left, but at a signal from Kenyon, he retreated.

  “Miss Wright has a talent for faces, doesn’t she?” Kenyon said. “She’s the one who spotted Miguel.”

  “Who’s Miguel?” Emily asked. She wanted to draw their attention off Tyler before they could hurt him further, but it was no use. He spoke again, anyway.

  “Miguel Castillo is El Gato’s real name,” Tyler said. “It wasn’t in the press release. Only someone working for the cartel would know that. We suspected they might have someone in the government.”

  “I’ve had a long and profitable business association with the Juarez family,” Kenyon said. “But you, Sergeant Mat
heson, have made this personal.” He caught Emily’s chin and turned her face toward his. “And you, too, beautiful señorita. You see, Miguel was not only a fighter for our cause, he was my cousin.”

  Emily met his gaze and did her best to keep her fear from showing. She’d noticed the strong resemblance between Kenyon and El Gato yesterday. They had the same coloring, the same body shape and size. They even moved in the same way. Yet she’d never suspected they could be related.

  Oh, God. Now what?

  “I knew you had been brought into Eagle Squadron’s mission in order to identify Miguel,” Kenyon continued. “I thought to turn the tables by identifying you for him.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Come now. Why do you suppose I would have approached you at the reception? I was pointing out where you were so he could avoid you.” He squeezed her jaw hard between his thumb and fingers. “But you found him, didn’t you?”

  “Your beef is with me, Kenyon,” Tyler said. “I killed him. She didn’t even want to be there. You’re taking a hell of a chance coming back to the palace just to get revenge.”

  “Revenge?” He dropped his hand. “No, I’m here for the envoy’s meeting. Encountering the two of you is simply a—” He paused, as if searching for the right word. “A bonus,” he finished. He crouched in front of the briefcase that he’d set on the floor earlier and opened the lid.

  There were no papers or files inside the briefcase. No computer or phone or any other tool a politician might normally bring to a meeting. The interior was filled with blocks of a white substance that looked like modeling clay connected by a tangle of colored wires to a circuit board and what appeared to be a timer.

  Emily looked at Tyler. Like her, he had a clear view of the briefcase’s contents. One glimpse of his expression and her suspicion was confirmed.

  It was a bomb.

  Thunder rolled beyond the walls, like the echo of a distant explosion. Emily clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

  “You’ve got nothing to gain with that device, Kenyon,” Tyler said. “It’s over. The deal for the base is going to go through, whether the envoy is alive or not.”