by Diana Palmer
They were aboard the ship now, and passing easily among the crewmen, who didn’t know quite what to make of the two men in suits walking so leisurely down the decks.
“If Vance sees us, he’ll run,” Colby said. “Especially after wounding Sarina. Assault on a federal officer…”
“…is a felony,” Rodrigo agreed. He glanced at Colby. “We want Vance alive,” he emphasized.
Cold dark eyes met his. “He’ll be alive. Sort of.”
“No,” the older man said firmly. “We need him to find his cohorts. Cara Dominguez is still free and running things for the drug cartel. Vance can lead us to her.”
Colby’s jaw tensed. “Spoilsport,” he said angrily.
“Don’t think I wouldn’t like a shot at him as well,” came the cold reply. “It’s just that we don’t dare. Not now.”
Colby’s mood lightened. “Later, we could pose as federal marshals and offer to transport him to trial,” he suggested.
Rodrigo smothered a laugh. “You have to stop thinking like a merc. There are rules here in the States.”
“Even if you can’t break rules, you can bend them,” Colby offered.
“Isn’t that what got you sent home from Africa in the first place?” he asked. “Bending rules with your, shall we say, inventive, interrogation techniques?”
“People talked to me,” Colby defended.
“Not willingly. Be careful,” Rodrigo added as they hesitated at the ladder into the cargo hold. “He’s still armed, and he’ll be expecting someone to follow him.”
Colby gave him a sarcastic glance, his hand going inside his jacket to the concealed automatic weapon.
Rodrigo glanced at it, frowning. “They should have given me one, too.”
“Admitting what a bad shot you are?”
Rodrigo’s teeth clenched. “Admitting the same?”
Colby hesitated suddenly as they entered the cargo hold. He put an arm behind him, to motion Rodrigo to one side. He froze in place, not moving, not breathing. He was almost grateful that Rodrigo had a similar background, because a noisy companion would have gotten them both killed. There, just ahead, were two armed men, talking to Brody Vance, who was pushing back sweaty dark hair and shaking with fear.
“Did they recognize you?” one of the men was demanding in accented English.
“No!” Vance burst out. “I’m sure they didn’t. Well, the agent I shot saw me, but not close enough to recognize me, I’m sure of it. He was blond and thin. He looked familiar…Anyway, I…” He hesitated and groaned. “I shot him! He may be dead!”
“That is nothing to us,” the second man said, his voice devoid of any accent at all. “If you weren’t recognized, you can go back.”
“No! They’ll know! I’ll go to jail!”
The first man pointed a pistol at his heart. “Jail is not better than dead?” he drawled.
Vance put up both hands. “Please! Please don’t kill me!”
Colby was thinking fast. He and Rodrigo could wade in, shoot all three men and arrest the survivors. But if Vance didn’t know he’d been recognized, he was valuable in place. He could give them Cara Dominguez if he were carefully handled. The man was a coward. He could be useful.
He glanced over his shoulder at Rodrigo and saw the intelligence in the man’s dark eyes, and a nod. He jerked his head toward the access ladder. Without a protest, Rodrigo eased backward until he was out of sight and climbed up. Colby followed him, closing his jacket over the automatic weapon.
They walked together down the gangplank to the pier.
“You’re clean,” Rodrigo told the captain with a grin. “No illegals there. Thanks for your time.”
“It was no trouble at all,” the captain said with blatant relief.
“Good day,” Rodrigo replied. He and Colby walked back toward the warehouses.
“YOU’RE QUICK,” Colby said, hesitating outside the warehouse where a SWAT team was mopping up, along with DEA personnel and the task force. “I hoped you’d understand what I meant before they saw us. Vance is more valuable on the job than in jail right now.”
“I agree.” Rodrigo moved forward. “I’ll make it right with Cobb. I owe him a few apologies before he can draw his sidearm,” he added enigmatically. “But I want to see how Sarina is.”
Colby followed Rodrigo back into the warehouse. He knew that she was right, it was a flesh wound, and not life-threatening. But he felt guilty and outraged and upset, all at once.
She was out front with the paramedics, one of whom was looking at her arm.
She looked up when Colby and Rodrigo approached, but she wouldn’t meet Colby’s cold glance.
Rodrigo squatted down in front of her, his face concerned. “Are you going to be all right?” he asked gently.
She smiled at him in a way that made Colby turn to stone. “I’ll be fine.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
He nodded, catching the hand to hold it tightly in his.
“Did you get Vance?” she asked Colby, her eyes meeting his for the first time.
“No,” he replied. “He didn’t recognize you and he still has ties to Dominguez and her operation. We’re going to pretend he wasn’t involved and see if we can use him to lead her into a trap.”
She started to protest angrily, but Rodrigo pressed her hand, hard.
“He’s right,” he told her firmly. “Vance can’t be apprehended just yet.”
“He shot me!” she raged, her dark eyes fierce and outraged. “Assault on a federal officer is a felony!” She glared at Rodrigo. “And why are you suddenly taking his side against me?” she demanded, jerking a thumb toward Colby.
Rodrigo glowered. “He…saved my life,” he said reluctantly. “One of the mules had the draw on me. He knocked him down with a bullet and questioned him about Vance.”
“Uh-oh,” Colby groaned.
“You feel guilty for saving my life?” Rodrigo mused.
“Not that. I used Vance’s name in front of the mule,” Colby corrected. “We’ll have to have Houston PD find a way to hold him incommunicado until we wind up this case.” He turned away from Sarina’s accusing eyes. “I’ll go talk to them.”
“Calm down,” Rodrigo told Sarina when Colby was out of earshot. “Smoke is coming out of your ears.”
She almost shuddered with anger. “Ouch!” she protested as the medic put on a temporary bandage.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he apologized with a grin, “but we have to get you ready to transport.”
“It’s a flesh wound,” she growled at him, her dark eyes sparking with temper. “I don’t need to be transported anywhere!”
“Oh, yeah?” he replied. “When was your last tetanus shot?”
She blinked. She couldn’t remember ever having had one, unless it was when she was a child.
“If you can’t remember, that’s another reason to get in my truck, Rambo,” the medic said, chuckling.
“A bullet wound can easily get infected,” Rodrigo interjected. “I spent a week in hospital some years ago for doing what you’re trying to do. You can’t go home and wash it out with peroxide.”
She sighed angrily. “Okay, I’ll go. But I’m not staying,” she added as she got into the ambulance.
Rodrigo didn’t say another word, but he and the medic exchanged knowing glances.
COLBY, MEANWHILE, had hunted up the policeman who’d followed him into the building. “I need a favor,” he told the man, a corporal, judging by his name tag.
“What is it?” the man asked.
He started to reach into his pocket when he noticed that one of the servos in his artificial arm had stopped working. Cursing violently, he took off his jacket, draped it over a nearby rail, and shot up his sleeve, exposing a bullet lodged in the prosthetic arm.
“Damn the luck!” he raged. “This thing is more trouble than it’s worth.”
The policeman was eyeing it curiously. “How’d you lose your arm?”
“In Africa, do
ing covert ops,” he replied absently, checking the damage. “Well, I’ll have to go home and get my spare.”
The police officer had straightened. “Listen,” he said, “I’m sorry about that rent-a-cop crack earlier,” he said genuinely. “It’s just that I’ve had my problems with security guards who thought they were Eliot Ness.”
Colby gave him a grin. “So have I,” he mused. “In fact, we had one like that in D.C. when I was working security for the Hutton Corporation. He made such a nuisance of himself that we locked him in a closet with one of the terrorists. When he came out, he said he was going back to walking dogs for a living.”
“Terrorists?” the policeman queried.
Colby nodded as he replaced his sleeve and put his jacket back on. “They tried to blow up one of Hutton’s oil platforms. We turned them over to Interpol.”
The man was very still. “Hutton was involved in that kidnapping overseas, the one that almost started a war. It made international headlines.”
Colby shrugged. “That was before I went to work for him. I was doing a stint for one of the covert agencies in D.C.” He leaned toward the man. “Just between you and me, private sector pays better.”
The policeman chuckled. “Maybe I’ll hit you up for a job one day.”
“Yeah? And maybe I’ll hire you,” Colby replied, grinning good-naturedly. “Listen, I asked that goon I shot about Vance’s whereabouts. We’ve decided to let Vance go back to work and pretend we don’t know how involved he is in the drug smuggling plot. We need to make sure he doesn’t pass that information on to any of his colleagues.”
“The one you shot? Didn’t you know?” the policeman asked.
“Know what?”
“The fool tried to take another patrolman’s pistol while he was handcuffing him. They struggled and the pistol went off. The perp’s dead.”
Colby whistled. “Solves my problem, but not in a way I’d prefer.”
“I know what you mean. Better take care of that arm,” he added, noting that the servos seemed to be moving without purpose and making a lot of noise.
“Yes, I had,” Colby said. “Thanks for the backup, by the way.”
“No problem. I like working with the local DEA boys. They never hog the credit when we go along on raids with them. See you.”
“Yeah.”
Colby made his way back to Hunter and laid his MP-5 alongside the other special weapons that Hunter had borrowed.
“Damn, Hunter, will you and your people stop lifting our stuff?” the SWAT sergeant muttered as he checked the weapons and unloaded them.
“As God is my witness,” Colby told the man, hand over his heart, “I have no idea how that weapon managed to get in my belt!”
Hunter dragged him away just in time.
When he was alone, Colby’s mood darkened. He’d told Sarina that they shouldn’t keep secrets from each other ever again, and she’d agreed. She’d been lying the whole time. How could she be so intimate with him and not trust him? It destroyed his faith in her.
But there was Bernadette, his daughter, his child. He couldn’t turn his back on the little girl now, regardless of how he felt about her mother. He grimaced. What did he feel for her mother? He was confused.
Nevertheless, he drove straight for the hospital when he left the warehouse, despite the malfunctioning arm. Certainly the wound wasn’t fatal, but he couldn’t help worrying about Sarina. He couldn’t leave Rodrigo to take care of her, either, despite his changed opinion of the man.
He found Sarina still in a cubicle in the emergency room. The doctor had ordered X-rays and she was waiting for the radiologist to read them.
“I told him it didn’t hit the bone,” she was telling Rodrigo, “but he wouldn’t listen.”
“You should have showed him your medical degree,” Rodrigo drawled.
She glared at him.
“What did the doctor say?” Colby asked, joining them, his face giving away nothing of his feelings.
“He’s a resident,” she corrected curtly, holding her arm. “He said that I seem to have a gunshot wound.”
Colby couldn’t suppress a grin.
“He’s busy reporting it to the police,” she added.
His eyebrows went up. “Did you show him your ID?” he asked.
The glare got worse. “I didn’t get the chance. He thinks I’m an escaped criminal, apparently. I couldn’t bear to deprive him of his evening’s entertainment!” she scoffed.
Rodrigo shrugged, as if to say, you talk some sense into her.
Just as he started to, the resident, a solemn tall young man with fair hair and thick glasses walked back in with a police officer on his heels.
All at the same time, Rodrigo, Colby, and Sarina produced their badges for his inspection.
The police officer gave Colby’s a long stare. He gave the resident a speaking look, apologized for inconveniencing a wounded agent, and left.
Just for spite, Colby allowed the resident a peek at his ID. It was the old one, of course, his “company” card.
The resident cleared his throat. “I am obliged by the hospital regulations to report all gunshot wounds to the police.”
Colby folded his wallet. “You can take my word for it that the young woman is not an escaped fugitive. However,” he added with narrowed eyes, “if her wound is not treated promptly, I will have a word with the administrator of this hospital.”
The resident got busy.
A PRACTICING PHYSICIAN came in to check the resident’s diagnosis, and approved the treatment, but would not allow Sarina to go home.
He held up a hand when she began to argue. “We have plenty of empty beds, and better safe than sorry, especially when the bullet passed so close to the bone. If you do all right tomorrow, I’ll allow you to leave first thing Monday morning.”
“Monday?” she exclaimed.
“See how it feels when people won’t let you do what you want to do?” Colby asked.
She glared at him. “You had malaria! You had no business out of bed!”
“Tit for tat,” he retorted.
“He’s right,” Rodrigo interrupted. “You don’t need to be in the apartment alone, especially now. And Bernadette wouldn’t know what to do if something happened.”
Sarina glared at him, too. “She’s staying with the Hunters,” she said after a minute, when she realized that raging at the men wouldn’t do any good. “I’ll ask Jennifer if she can stay until Monday. They can drop her off at school with Nikki. But what do I tell her?”
“I’ll go by there tomorrow,” Colby said quietly, “and tell her you had an emergency meeting out of town for Mr. Ritter.”
She hesitated. “All right.”
“I could take her to the zoo tomorrow,” Colby added.
Sarina’s dark eyes flashed angrily. “You and your new lover?”
Rodrigo perked up, staring curiously at Colby’s darkening cheeks.
Colby glared at her, ignoring the Mexican. His face hardened. Not for worlds was he going to admit the truth. Let her sweat. “As it happens, she’s flying out in the morning,” he drawled. “I’ll be all alone!”
“Pity,” she bit off. “You’re good at keeping secrets, aren’t you?”
“And you’re a fine one to talk,” he shot back. “What the hell sort of mother risks her life for a job when she’s got a child to raise?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
SARINA’S FACE went white. She’d expected that question from the minute Colby saw her on the floor in the warehouse, but she still didn’t know how to answer it. She didn’t want to answer it. He’d given her hope that he cared, that he wanted a future with her. And then he hadn’t phoned her, and she’d found him half naked with another woman. It was just like before, when he’d had Maureen in the background and pretended to be interested in Sarina. He’d betrayed her once. Why wouldn’t he be willing to do it again? He was never going to be a faithful husband. She’d been living in a dream world of happy endings. Here was the r
eality.
She lifted her face belligerently. “I’m a good agent, and I very rarely walk into situations this dangerous. Rodrigo can tell you that.”
“I don’t care what he tells me,” Colby replied before the other man could speak. “You took a bullet in the arm tonight. A few inches to the left, and you’d be dead!”
“I’m not,” she pointed out. She glared at him. “You have a job that’s more dangerous than mine is,” she added. “Planning to give it up for Bernadette and take a nice safe desk job, are you?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“You’re her father,” she burst out.
“You’re her mother,” he shot back. “Do you plan to raise her in between gun battles?”
“You shot a man!”
“You tried to shoot one!” he returned hotly.
Rodrigo stepped in between both of them. “She’s wounded and you’re malfunctioning,” he pointed out. “Both of you need some minor repairs. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to postpone World War III until you’re in better shape.”
Colby glowered at him. Then he shrugged and drew in a long breath. “I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad idea, at that,” he had to admit. “I need to go home and find my spare arm.”
She held her arm. “I could use something for pain,” she confessed.
Rodrigo nodded. “That’s more like it.”
Sarina glared at him. “You’re on his side,” she accused.
He shrugged. “He saved my life. Temporarily,” he added with a wry glance at Colby, “I owe him.”
“You can save my life at your convenience and even things up,” Colby said agreeably.
“I still owe you for the other time,” Rodrigo said without thinking, remembering Africa. But he stopped short and looked uneasy.
“What other time?” Sarina asked curiously.
“There were two guys in the warehouse,” Colby said easily. “I’ve got to go. Don’t let her assault the resident and escape,” he told Rodrigo.
“He isn’t my type,” she said irritably. “I don’t like fair men.”
