Twice A Target (Task Force Eagle)

by Susan Vaughan

  Across the kitchen table, she sipped water and sighed. “The other day, he aimed that first shot at me. Why me unless it’s the pictures? Even then...” She lifted her shoulders in bafflement.

  His lips curved in a wry smile. “So you didn’t buy my analysis that the shot was to scare us. I can’t make sense out of it. And what the hell does that note mean? ‘You have not suffered enough.’ It sounds like...like some melodrama or—”

  “Foreign phrasing.” She nodded grimly, her complexion pale ivory. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “And the handwriting, all loopy with curlicues.”

  “Old-fashioned.”

  She shook her head as if clearing the cobwebs. Damp curls from her recent shower clung to her nape and cheeks. His fingers itched to touch them. “Old-fashioned maybe. Or foreign.”

  “What do you mean? Where?”

  “It didn’t hit me at first, but now I remember seeing handwriting like that in Central America.” As if she could sit still no longer, she carried their glasses to the sink.

  Holt’s heart raced, and threads of alarm wound through his brain. No, it can’t be.

  He rose unsteadily and went to stand beside her. “Central America. Are you certain?”

  “The schools down there stress handwriting. Especially the older generation writes like that.” She placed the mugs in the drainer and draped the dishcloth over the faucet. “I spent a lot of time in small villages in Guatemala and Honduras. People often gave me letters for their relatives in the next village. It was faster than the postal service.” She smiled, a soft, sad smile.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and kneaded gently, but he wasn’t sure if it was to soothe the tension he felt in her muscles or if he needed an anchor in the rock-tumbled rapids of reality. “What about Mexico?”

  She tilted her head back and let his hands ease her aches. “Mexico? I’m sure of it, but I haven’t spent much time there. The drug cartels. I don’t have to tell you about that.”

  He went numb as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. The high-powered rifle. The hired killer. The lack of motive. “No. I know more than you can imagine about Mexican drug trafficking.”

  As if in a video, his last confrontation with El Águila played out in his head. The bodyguards’ guns shooting at him. His return fire. The young lieutenant’s body on the ground. The drug lord’s cries of grief. The hatred in his sunken eyes.

  “El Águila.”

  Maddy lifted his limp hands from her shoulders. “The eagle? What are you getting at?”

  “I just got the message he left.” He wrenched away from her, his heart a lifeless stone. “I have to make some phone calls.” He snatched the phone receiver from its base and stalked away to his bedroom.

  At the sight of Holt’s grim cop face, laser-eyed and impassive, Maddy snapped her mouth shut instead of pelleting him with questions. Though he seemed to have a lead, he wasn’t happy about it. Now that she’d recovered from the initial shocks, she couldn’t just stand around. She had to do something, so she shrugged into her jacket and went outside.

  The past few days had dumped more danger on her than she’d ever experienced in her eight years of traveling. Even in the Balkans, she hadn’t felt bull’s-eyes painted on her body. After this Holt would probably expect her to pack up and run, but she wouldn’t leave him in the lurch. He needed her. And not just for Bobby.

  She jogged to the corral. The scent of smoke, still rank in the air, continued to spook the animals. Quickstep and Chica rolled their eyes and tossed their heads, but calmed when she talked to them and petted them.

  Bandito reared and pawed at the air. Maddy was able to grab his bridle and ease him back down. She walked him around the corral and talked softly. She gave them all fresh water and hay from a covered stack outside before returning to the house.

  Once back inside, she exchanged her boots for sneakers and hung her coat on the hook. She washed up while listening for Holt’s voice. Nothing. She found him sitting on his bed, his head in his hands.

  “Holt?”

  The eyes he raised to her were as bleak and pale as November skies in a face ashen with grief. “You know that old saying, ‘Be careful what you wish for’?” He barked a bitter laugh and passed a hand over his eyes.

  She sat beside him on the bed and curled a hand on his knee.

  “I know now who’s behind it all. But when I searched for a monster, I should have looked in the mirror.”

  His face was a mask of pain, and she ached for him. Whatever it was, he blamed himself. No surprise in a man who took on the world’s responsibilities. “Tell me.”

  He pushed himself upright and paced the length of the room. “The message made everything clear. Rob wasn’t killed because his temper pissed off a cowboy. Or because the Raffertys wanted to buy Ghost Mountain. Or because a damned hunter shot wild.” He was nearly shouting at her. “He and Sara were killed to punish me.”

  “Who, Holt? Who?”

  “El Águila. He’s a Mexican drug lord. Not just drugs, but illegal arms.” Spitting out the words like bullets, he laid out a tale of intrigue that would have shell-shocked her if she weren’t already so shaken.

  Though she knew such stand-offs went on, to Maddy it seemed more like Movie of the Week than reality. She shuddered to think of Holt facing down such a soulless gangster. “And you think this El Águila had Rob and Sara killed because you killed one of his men, the one the bodyguard carried off?”

  “Not just one of his men—his heir apparent. His only son.” He swore and pounded his right fist against his palm. “Word is he paid to have anyone close to me killed. So I would suffer.”

  “Like he did.” She still couldn’t fathom the gangster’s long arm of vengeance. For an evil man like him, having Rob and Sara killed added only one more crime to a long list, but equally monstrous was saddling Holt with the burden of guilt. “You killed that man in self-defense. In the line of duty.”

  “To hell with the line of duty. Being twice a target makes it personal. I never dreamed my work could harm my family. I might as well have put that bullet into Rob instead of into the man in Tijuana. And now El Águila has taken aim at you.” He strode toward the kitchen door. “I need some air.”

  She followed only as far as the door. Coatless, oblivious to the icy drizzle, he loped to the corral. Repairing tack always seemed his remedy to a problem. But the tack was gone, all the saddles and bridles burned or charred unusable in the fire.

  She’d leave him alone this time, let him work it out his way. For a while.

  Chapter 19

  Holt dragged himself back to the house two hours later. His muscles ached almost as much as his head, but he felt better. Every nail he’d pounded to rig up a makeshift horse shelter was a nail driven into El Águila’s coffin.

  When the answers fell into place, his throat had clogged as if he’d lost Rob all over again. A little focused violence out in the corral sweated out the misguided guilt. He let fury harden him, give him a focus, a direction.

  The puzzle had a shape, a form, a pattern. The senseless murders had a motive. The killer had a face. A face he had seen. Now that he knew who committed this cowardly crime, he would get the bastard and those he hired if it was the last thing he ever did.

  He left his reeking shirt and dirty boots in the laundry room off the kitchen and rinsed off the worst of the sweat and smoke. The house was quiet and dim, with only one light over the kitchen sink and the night lights in the hallway. Only a couple of hours until dawn, but he might as well try to grab some sleep. If he could.

  “You okay?” Maddy came out of her room as he padded down the hall in his bare feet. Even in the half-dark, he could see the deep shadows beneath her eyes. Her hair stuck out over one ear where she’d been lying on her side. He wanted to go smooth it, kiss the shell of her ear.

  Then he saw she wore jeans, and her denim jacket. His heart slammed against his ribs. She was leaving. Damn, he should have known. But he’d already said his piece
about her running, so he held his tongue.

  Her eyes narrowed as if she read his expression, and she cocked a hip. “Maybe it’s better if I leave. What if tomorrow when I’m holding Bobby, El Águila’s hit man blows us both away?”

  “That bastard would’ve killed my horses and burned my barn. And he tried to kill you. He’ll try again. Because of me. But now that he knows we’re married, he’ll find you anywhere—New York or LA or between. If you stay, I can protect you.”

  She skewered him with a skeptical gaze. “But who’ll protect you and Bobby?”

  His concern so far had been for her, but now his gut clenched for his nephew. So far El Águila hadn’t targeted the baby, but that was no guarantee. “The Denver DEA office will send a team pronto. Fight or flight, those are your choices, McCoy.”

  “I choose fight. Besides, I can’t leave now. We just got married.”

  The sinking feeling in his gut told him he’d stepped in Rocky Mountain meadow muffins—up to his hips. “Hell. You weren’t leaving anyway, were you?”

  Her angelic smile contained a dollop of deviltry. “Not unless I hitchhike or hotwire your truck. I was headed out to see if you were all right.”

  Something warm and liquid unfurled inside him. “Thanks for worrying. No one ever worried about me before. Reckon I jumped to conclusions.”

  “Now who’s the impulsive one?” She grinned, her gaze cruising his bare torso. “You got your head on straight so you’re ready to find this El Águila?”

  Damn, she knew him too well. He gave up on maintaining distance and closed the space between them. “Sounds like you knew I would. That was grief talking. I’m well aware of where to hang the blame. If I ever face the son of a bitch again with a gun in my hand, he won’t walk away.”

  “And the DEA will help put a stop to this terror?” Her earlier tears had dried, but her eyes were bleak with fear.

  She needed protection. And he needed—wanted her so much his body shook with it. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe. I promise.”

  When he felt her trembling—or was it him?—he pulled her closer. He needed to feel her soft curves against him. He still couldn’t bring himself to trust her to stay, but his distrust didn’t stop him from a near savage longing for her. And a powerful desire to protect her. “I’m surprised you aren’t yelling at me for putting you in the middle of this danger.”

  She shook her head and struggled in his embrace. “I have no cause to blame you any more than you should blame yourself.”

  Stubborn as a filly in a windstorm. He held her fast, needed the satisfaction of having her in his arms. She’d turned water on the fire, tended the horses afterward. No tenderfoot.

  “You were courageous and resourceful tonight. And I thank you for that.” He kissed her forehead and tucked her beneath an arm as he began walking her down the hall.

  He didn’t mention his suspicions about Luke Rafferty. Troubled and a loner, Luke didn’t evoke trust in Holt. The DEA could check him out thoroughly. Maybe the man had no grudge against Rob, but he might not have resisted a generous offer to eliminate him. Or Maddy if the absent Riggs was the first shooter.

  Since no one new had hired on at any of the Rock County ranches, this shooter was probably a local. As a deputy sheriff, Luke had the contacts, the skill, and the mobility to have carried out both shootings. And he had that Circle-S custom black Ford. Holt wished he’d gotten a better look at the truck tonight.

  He squeezed Maddy’s shoulders. What had he done, putting her in such danger? He wouldn’t let her out of his sight tonight. God, if anything had happened to her...

  She hauled on the reins. “Holt, what are you doing? We need to go to bed.”

  “Exactly. It’s our wedding night. What’s left of it.” He released her and trailed a finger along her chin and over her mouth. Her full lower lip was smooth as velvet, and he had to taste her again. To taste her all over, to drive into her welcoming body and blast all their problems into temporary oblivion.

  He needed sleep, but he needed her more.

  “I know this is bad timing. But you know I’ve wanted you since you arrived. Hell, I’ve wanted you for years. Come to bed with me, Maddy.”

  At his blatant invitation, she didn’t flinch, only watched him, her eyes wide and somber. The same hunger he felt shimmered in her hot gaze. Then she smoothed a hand across his belly. She opened her mouth and flicked her tongue over his fingertip. Slowly she sucked his finger into the warm moisture of her mouth and swirled her tongue around it.

  Lust slammed into him with the heat of a branding iron. His body hardened with a rush that made him light-headed.

  “Make love to me, Holt.”

  “Maddy.” His mouth on hers, he scooped her up and carried her into his darkened bedroom. They shouldn’t do this. He knew a thousand reasons it was a bad idea and he’d regret it later, but with her soft and clinging in his arms, to hell with them.

  All he could think of was Maddy. Her taste. Her sleek curves. Her generous spirit that might offer him solace. The roaring in his blood was a hunger for her that wouldn’t abate.

  He lowered her to the bedspread and followed her down, cradling her in his arms, reveling in her sweetness. He tugged her T-shirt hem from her jeans. “I need to see you,” he gritted out as he punched the bedside lamp button.

  She wrenched the shirt over her head, then fumbled with his jean buttons. “I want to see you too. I want to feel you against me.”

  He shimmied out of the jeans and flung them into a far corner of the room. He sprawled half over her, savoring the shivery sensation of her nipples against his skin, in the wildflower scent that was Maddy. He trembled, struggling to keep his hand gentle on her breast. When he closed his mouth over her budding nipple, he moaned with the intense pleasure.

  She arched beneath him, yearning for more. “I need you inside me. I need you now.”

  “Easy, easy. We’ll get there.”

  She kicked off her sneakers, and he helped her skin off her jeans and panties before he stripped away his boxers. This was the first time he’d seen her naked body, taut and fit, yet curved in all the right places.

  “The hallway light frames your body,” she murmured, “hard muscles and strength from ranch work. If I wasn’t so aroused, I’d run for my Nikon.”

  “X-rated for damn sure.” He chuckled, then knelt above her, aching to be inside her. He dug a condom from the bedside table and ripped it open.

  Her eyes were dark plum and languorous with desire. She closed her soft, warm hand around his heated length, streaking a hungry blaze through his body.

  Moaning with desperation, he lowered himself to her. She felt so good, so damn perfect it ought to scare the bejeezus out of him, but he banished the thought and let his senses hold sway. He focused on her, inhaled the essence of her skin, absorbed every line and curve, every nuance down to his soul. He wanted her to cry out his name, to explode in his arms.

  He swept his hands over her, kissed and licked his way over her delectable body and then returned to her mouth for a stunning kiss that was unbearably sweet and slow.

  “Now, Holt, now!”

  Heat danced over her skin with bursts of lightning-bolt pleasure. As he surged into her, a rush of excitement ripped the breath from his lungs. His soul expanded at this possession, with each drive of his body into her tight heat. She writhed beneath him, meeting him stroke for stroke, climbing an impossible slope propelled by his molten body and frantic heartbeat. He felt her body shimmer with the first twinges of release. When he reached between them, his intimate caress threw her into climax.

  Holt closed his eyes in fierce control as his own release clawed at him. The joy of being inside her was so exquisite it was almost painful. She was wonderful, fiery and uninhibited, moving with him in shimmying undulations that drove him faster, deeper. Her inner muscles clenched around him, knifing shock waves through his loins and coiling tension inside him tighter and tighter
. All too soon, he felt himself stiffen, poised on the edge, and then a huge, rocking kick of pleasure slammed him in a wrenching release as he poured himself into her.

  *****

  When Maddy woke, sunlight streamed through the lace curtains. She rolled over, but found on the soft cotton sheets only a trace of warmth from Holt’s body and the mingled scents of their lovemaking. Sensations of his loving wove through her mind and ghosted across her skin. Longing for him made her shudder.

  He didn’t love her no matter how much he desired her. She wouldn’t let him send her away now, but she’d have to go eventually. Away from Holt. And Bobby. She choked up at the thought of little Bobby—his cooing laugh, his bright eyes, how he waved his little hands, and put out his pudgy arms when she picked him up.

  At the thought of someone threatening him, her heart stumbled. She had to help catch this monster. She had to do whatever she could.

  Resolved, she forced herself to rise and begin the day. Holt would return from the animals and need breakfast. After a quick shower, she made coffee and popped Espie’s leftover corn muffins in the oven to warm. She was searching for the eggs in the refrigerator when Holt opened the door.

  He looked wonderful, sleep-rumpled with a beard-stippled chin. Sexy as hell. She wanted to jump him all over again.

  “I tried not to wake you. You needed some sleep.”

  “Neither of us has had much sleep.”

  He headed for her, determination in his eyes. His kiss was tender, so gentle it brought tears to her eyes.

  “Everything will be okay. We’ll get this guy.” His voice softened, deepened to a seductive velvet rumble. His blue eyes glided over her body as if seeing her naked.

  “I’m not afraid for myself. It’s Bobby...and you.” Pierced to her core, she put her head on his chest. “I was wondering about something you said last night. About the DEA.”

  “The Denver office will organize a team.”