Apparently she had no choice. On a sigh, Kate stood and smoothed her gown. When she touched her hand to his big warm one, she felt a tremor low in her body.
A jungle trek wasn’t the only danger she faced.
***
They entered the grand ballroom half an hour later. On the way to the palace, Max had kept an eye on the rearview mirror but spotted no tail. He couldn’t assume Mustache and his pal were sloshing it down at a bar, but it was a safe bet they couldn’t wangle a way into this gala.
Although more rivals for Kizin had to be prowling around, he’d dug up only two names—President Aguilar and General Lopez. He’d keep a sharp eye for anybody watching Kate too closely. One scum he didn’t have to worry about was Alistair Sedgwick, tucked into his fucking mansion an ocean away.
Working for Devlin had taught Max how to conduct himself with kings as well as thieves, a long way from street punk. The gleaming marble floors and gold-flecked walls mocked the poverty and hunger in Costa Verde. Made him long to heave a grenade at the fancy chandeliers. One saving grace. Not spending money on air conditioning. Fans circulated the breeze entering through French doors.
“This place is the freakin’ Taj Mahal.”
At his side, Kate whispered, “Native stone, polished like marble. Built ten years ago by the dictator. President Aguilar doesn’t seem to mind the opulence.”
“Hardship duty.” He held back a snort.
Men in tuxedos and Costa Verde military uniforms and women in sparkling gowns filled the ballroom and queued for the reception line. The full orchestra played a fast Latin tune for a crowded dance floor.
No surprise other men eyed Kate like jaguars tracking their next meal. Max was checking her out too. Gorgeous anytime, but tonight—hoo, momma, a stunner.
She’d clasped her hair up in back so it tumbled in sexy curls, baring her neck to temptation. He placed a hand on the small of her back. Not only did the gown caress all her curves like a lover’s hand, but the back dipped low enough for his fingers to touch bare skin. Skin even softer than her arm.
She flinched at his touch but didn’t move away.
His body reacted in a predictable way and he withdrew his hand. Hell, he shouldn’t be thinking of her skin. Resisting temptation was tougher than he’d expected.
His life meant daily risks, but the tangible kind, the kind he knew how to handle, not the emotional-attachment kind that could bite you in the ass. Nope, not gonna get that close.
Sharing a small tent would make distance impossible. She’d breached his first line of defense by being nice. He needed to shore it up again. Keep his emotions out of the equation.
“We’re next in the reception line,” she whispered. “Then you’ll go check if things are secure?”
“Need to give it a little time. Not be obvious. Try not to worry.” He’d have to trust Kizin’s hiding place was safe unless a searcher had X-Ray vision.
An official in a tight-collared uniform presented Kate. President Aguilar was thin, about her height, with a slash of a mouth that reminded him of an old-time gunfighter. Not a man to mess with.
As soon as Kate in turn introduced Max, Aguilar presented them to his wife, a tiny woman with loops of black hair piled on top her head, a hairdo that would’ve done a Houston society babe proud. She accepted Kate’s birthday wishes with a sniff.
“Bienvenida a mi bello país, Señorita Fontaine.” After welcoming her to his beautiful country, el presidente eased into barely accented English. “It is a great honor to host such a distinguished representative of the Washington Cultural Museum. Rumor has it you have brought with you Costa Verde’s most famous lost treasure.”
Both Aguilars gave her their full attention, their eyes glittering and narrowed, coyotes freeze-staring a rabbit.
Max edged closer to her side.
“Sadly, you have been misled, Your Excellency.” Kate added a slight pout to her regret. “The Kizin statue is undergoing study back in the States. I am here to photograph the jungle trek and the K’eq Xlapak restoration for the museum.”
Lying like a pro. When the Aguilars seemed to accept her cover story, Max studied the polished floor to hide his relief. He sent Kate a mental hoo-yah.
“You must know the anniversary of the theft is a few days away,” Señora Aguilar said. “There have been tremors...” Her eyes widened as if she expected a quake in the next moment.
“Yes, I experienced one earlier today.” Kate angled her head as if speculating. “Do you believe in the curse?”
The first lady drew up to her full height, barely five feet without the hair monument. “People in my country believe many things about the figure. The chances of my husband in the next election—”
Aguilar’s hand clamped down his wife’s arm. “My dear, we don’t want to bore our visitors with local politics.”
“You are right, my husband.” Señora Aguilar fell silent but her pursed mouth and snapping eyes spoke for her.
The president’s gaze softened with apparent concern. “The route to K’eq Xlapak through the jungle is treacherous. No place for a refined young woman. I am happy to offer you the use of my helicopter.”
An alternative Kate would probably jump at if the kidnappers didn’t require the Maya way. He pressed his fingers firmly on her spine to send her a silent message of support. If only he could rewind and delete the president’s interruption so his wife could finish her sentence. Just how interested in Kizin was the man?
Kate returned Aguilar’s smile with a warmer one—probably every bit as real. “You are most gracious, Excellency. I do appreciate the offer but we’ve made other arrangements.”
He bent his head in a small bow. “As you wish, but if you change your mind, my helicopter is yours. Enjoy our small party. I hope you have a pleasant stay in my country.”
He dismissed them with a brief nod. Señora Aguilar was already greeting the next guests.
“Way to go, Kate,” Max whispered in her ear as they moved down the reception line and waited for the next dignitary to greet them.
“Well, of course. A helicopter is out of the question.”
Before he could reply, another dignitary turned to greet them. The next few murmured distracted welcomes, and finally they reached the end of the receiving line and were introduced to General Rodolfo Lopez.
A barrel-chested man with a large nose, he beamed Kate a smile that crinkled his deep-set eyes. He enfolded her hand with both of his and bent closer—too fucking close to Max’s way of thinking. “I am so pleased you came tonight,” he said in heavily accented English. “I fear my earlier invitation was... clumsy.”
Kate looked properly contrite. “No indeed, General. I’m the one who must apologize. The flight was long and I wanted only to go to my hotel.” She lowered her voice. “And I feared accepting a rival’s invitation might offend my official host.”
Her dazzling smile did its job. “I understand, Señorita Fontaine. The matter is forgotten. You are here, and I am more than pleased to meet the woman who recovered Kizin.”
Kate’s shoulders stiffened. “I didn’t buy the statue. My brother did.”
“But you possess it, do you not?” His gaze flicked up the line toward his election opponent.
“For the time being, but I don’t own it. How can one own such a precious artifact?”
His mouth twitched. “Many in Costa Verde would like to own it. I can make it worth your while to place the statue in my hands. For safe keeping, you understand.”
Lopez had homed in on the same goal as el presidente—possession of Kizin. Prestige, yeah, but more than that. Max sent Lopez his best aw-shucks grin. “Folks here who’re interested in the statue of Kizin are thicker ’n fleas on a stray dog. Seems like it’s not totally about the earthquake curse.”
The amiable smile disappeared from the general’s fleshy face. “You are perceptive, señor. Costa Verde has more than one legend about the powers of Kizin.”
Kate squeezed Max’s arm. “Tha
nk you for your offer, General, but I don’t have the jade figure with me on this visit to your lovely country.”
“Lamentable. Odd that your museum would send such a high-ranking official as photographer.”
She winked, one conspirator to another. “The director balked, but I insisted because of my personal interest.”
A flicker in his gaze said he considered this a poor excuse. “Also regrettable you had some trouble at your hotel. I hope the rest of your stay is without incident.”
“Thank you. We mustn’t monopolize any more of your time.” Tugging Max along with her, she led the way to the bar.
He blew out a breath. Thank God he’d steered her away from the general’s original offer of hospitality. They were served flutes of tepid champagne. After holding his breath while Kate ran the gauntlet, he’d prefer a shot of tequila, maybe two, but in this barrel of snakes, he needed all his wits.
They moved past clutches of chatting people and found space beside a pillar. The music shifted from slow and dreamy to a salsa beat. Kate moved closer, likely for privacy. Regardless, he savored her scent and the feel of her body against his.
“The car? Now, please?” She clutched her champagne tight enough to break the stem.
He winked, shook his arm, and then peered at his shirt cuff. “Damn, I’ve dropped a cufflink. Maybe it’s in the SUV.” He mouthed, “Stay here.” When she nodded, he handed her his glass and strode away through the dancers.
Shit, protecting Kate ranked higher in his priorities than checking on the statue. But she ought to be okay for a few minutes. Who’d dare try something there, in the middle of all the dignitaries? What would be the point? She couldn’t hide a Post-It in that painted-on dress. Besides, security guards—army, from the look of the uniform—encircled the palace.
Outside, he inhaled the cooler air. Cooler was only relative, a couple notches down the Costa Verde thermostat from roasting, and just as humid. Sweat trickled down his spine.
He’d hated turning over the keys to the valet but that was the palace protocol. He nodded to the two guards by the door and waved to the valet, explained his problem. The young man beckoned he should follow and the two of them trotted off toward the parking lot.
Apparently with all the security, they weren’t worried about car theft. The SUV keys were still in the ignition. Max made a show of looking on the floor while he scanned the vehicle interior. All intact. The glove box was locked and the key in his pocket, although at the last minute he’d found a better hiding place.
A movement beyond the passenger window caught his eye. A man ducked into the trees and disappeared, but not before Max caught a glimpse of his face in the moonlight. The man who’d followed them before, the man with the mustache. His jaw clenched. Maybe he should buy a bigger pistol.
He’d have no excuse to come out here a second time, but maybe his surprise appearance had scared off Mustache.
He slipped the cufflink from his inside jacket pocket and pretended to scoop it up from the floor. Backing out of the driver side, he held up his prize in triumph. After he tipped the valet, he hurried back to Kate. He’d alert her about Mustache later. No need to frighten her now.
“Thanks for holdin’ my glass, darlin’. Found the cufflink first thing.” He held up his left wrist and grinned, then swallowed some of the drink. Flat now as well as warm. In a low tone, he added, “Everything’s okay.”
Her smile was forced but her sigh of relief genuine. “Could the general be behind our burglary?” she whispered.
“We think alike, darlin’. Could be a slew of crooked in his family tree. What do you think he meant by the powers of Kizin?” He handed their empty glasses to a passing waiter.
That little wrinkle appeared between her brows. Thinking hard again. “As I researched over the years, I ran across several legends about the statue. But not one applies here.”
“It’s not just the powers of Kizin, but power itself, Ms. Fontaine.”
At the British accent, Max spun around.
Chapter Eleven
“Sedgwick.” Kate’s eyes widened as she too turned.
A thin smile split Alistair Sedgwick’s face. The collector wore a tailored tux that had to cost four times as much as Max’s. What exactly did he hear? Damned obvious what he was up to. If Max had known he was here, he’d never have left Kate’s side. Add the Brit to the snakes determined to possess the statue.
Max missed yanking Kate back before she took a step toward Sedgwick.
Shoulders squared, she glared at the thief. “What are you doing here?”
“President Aguilar invited me, of course,” Sedgwick replied. “He and I are old friends.”
“You know very well I mean here in Costa Verde.”
“When I learned you were on your way, I decided to give you a chance to return what you stole from me.”
Kate’s hands fisted at her side, but her voice remained calm. “What I stole? You are the only one who thinks that’s true. You’re the thief and a murderer.”
He bristled. His tangled eyebrows bunched. “You wound me. No one has died.”
“Not for your lack of trying.” She shook her head. “Your gall amazes me.”
The thin smile turned feral. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “You’ll not put me off. I shall possess the statue. One way or another.”
Max curved an arm around Kate’s waist. Sedgwick—and the other interested parties if they were watching—ought to get the picture. “What did you mean about Kizin and power?”
The asshole’s laugh dripped scorn. “More superstition. One legend says whoever possesses the statue holds the power of the earthquake and will rule the region.”
“Ah,” Kate said. “Too bad I didn’t bring the statue to Costa Verde.”
Sedgwick stared at her as if he could read her secrets. “Somehow, my dear, I don’t quite believe you.” He turned on his heel and strode away into the throng at the bar.
“Cocky bastard!” Kate hissed.
“Nu-uh. Vein in his neck was jumping like a son of a bitch.” A mistake, assuming Sedgwick wouldn’t show up to join the others in this barrel. Like a rattlesnake, the fucker had more venom in his fangs.
“Dance with me, Max.” Kate’s hips swiveled to the band’s beat. The gold gown skimming every curve, she sashayed onto the dance floor.
“How can I refuse an invitation like that?” He salsa-stepped right behind her, his gaze riveted on those sweet hips.
He took her hands and turned her, brought her to his side. Grinning, she followed his lead, stepping and swiveling, bumping her hip against his to the music’s pulsing beat. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks pink.
Kate grinned. “I shouldn’t be surprised a Texan knows the salsa, but a badass Delta Force soldier?”
“Badass, huh?” He grinned. “Darlin’, I grew up in the barrio. Everybody danced. Besides, all kinds of skills come in handy in my work.” He tugged her a little closer and turned them in a tight circle, thighs and bellies pressed together.
Around them, couples swayed and laughed as the music rose and fell. Odors of perfume and hot bodies threaded the air. But only Kate filled his senses—the sway of her breasts, her full lips, her unique feminine sweetness.
His blood sizzled and dived south. This might be the only time he’d hold her, so, damn, he had to burn the feel of her into his memory. He turned her into his arms, absorbed the slide of her body against him, the intensity in her eyes. Supporting her with a hand on her back, he dipped her.
She threw back her head, laughing. As he lifted her upright, she twined her leg around his and glided the length of his body. Maybe she was working out her fury at the Brit. Or maybe she felt the same voltage he did between them, the heat that had nothing to do with the sultry night.
The crescendo of horns ending the song penetrated his awareness. Damn. Hard with desire, he couldn’t resist full body contact one more time before he spun her out.
***
When they
returned to the hotel, the tower clock in the plaza chimed midnight.
At Max’s signal, Kate remained quiet while he checked their doors. He’d used a precaution she’d only read about in thriller novels—a single wet hair stuck from the door frames to the doors. The cloak-and-dagger ruse sent a tingle through her.
Someone—maybe the mustached man Max had seen—rummaged through the camera bag and probably the rest of the SUV, but had taken nothing. Kizin had remained undetected behind an interior door panel. Feeling comforted by the statue’s weight back in the bag, she fought the fidgets while Max searched.
“All clear. Come on in.”
He’d left his cargo shorts and shirt on the floor. An indent marked the pillow where he’d stretched out earlier. Walking through Max’s room to enter hers felt too intimate.
For days she’d told herself she didn’t want intimacy, not with this adventurer she didn’t completely trust. But she did want. After this evening, she could no longer deny it. Did she have the nerve—if he offered?
She itched to feel his skin. He’d touched her frequently tonight. An arm around her shoulders as demonstration of protection and support. A hand at her waist as they danced. Fingers on her bare back as they walked. Each touch left a burning brand, making her hypersensitive to his nearness and—dear God—culminating in that fiery salsa that lit her up like a torch.
Or was she merely vulnerable? Did guilt for her brother’s predicament turn her to the first man who offered strength? At this moment, she didn’t care to examine either.
“Laundry’s here, earlier than promised.” She handed him one of the paper-wrapped packages she’d picked up in the hall.
“The only thing that’s gone right today.” His tux jacket landed on the bed. He’d yanked off the bow tie and opened his top shirt buttons as soon as they climbed into the SUV.
Kate stopped in the connecting doorway. She’d been skeptical from the start, but Max’s intuitive intelligence and resourcefulness were proving invaluable. “Thank you for tonight.”
On Deadly Ground (Devlin Security Force Book 1) Page 10
