But still the urge remained.
Gil knew that some bridge had been crossed last night. Over the years, particularly when Cade was too small to realize that his dad was gone overnight, Gil had spent an evening with an amenable woman and had his sexual needs fulfilled. It hadn’t taken very long for him to realize that such encounters left a sour taste in his mouth.
Apparently, he wasn’t cut out for casual sex.
As a young man, before he had fully understood the extent of his wife’s emotional trauma, he’d had every reason to believe that he and Sherrie would spend a life together at the Straight Arrow, potentially filling the house with a number of children.
Once the truth came out, Sherrie withdrew, both physically and emotionally. Despite Gil’s every effort, he had been unable to reach her. The loneliness of living in such a marriage hit hard, and had only increased tenfold after Sherrie’s death.
Not even to himself had Gil admitted the great void in his life. It seemed ungrateful and almost wicked to complain when he had so many blessings. A happy, healthy son. A family property that generated a very comfortable lifestyle. A wide circle of friends.
But a man needed a woman in his bed at night. A woman by his side. A partner who would share dreams and sorrows and joy and troubles. Bailey seemed convinced that she was only passing through. And in truth, Gil had believed they had little basis for a long-term relationship. Their lives were so different.
But after last night...well...after last night, Gil was prepared to move heaven and earth to prove to her that she was wrong. He had no clear plan, no road map for avoiding the obstacles in their way. Nevertheless, he wasn’t prepared to walk away from an experience and a woman who had made him rethink his monastic lifestyle.
A cynical person might point out that sexual euphoria was no basis for making serious life decisions. That simply because Gil had made love to Bailey Collins five times in one night didn’t mean they were soul mates. That he was thinking with his male anatomy and not his brain.
Throughout history, sexual mistakes had brought down men with as much or more to lose than Gil. Sex often made fools of those who had the hubris to think they were invincible. Gil got it. He really did. But stubbornly, he believed his situation was different. That he and Bailey were different. They had connected last night with a fire and an intimacy that was as rare as it was stingingly real.
His thinking was muddled. There were things to be sorted out. And he felt as if he had a hangover, though he was stone-cold sober. But the future seemed brighter this morning. And for now, that was enough.
At the hospital, he parked and went to find Bailey. Royal Memorial was a modern, well-equipped facility outfitted with the latest in technology. Though Royal might not have the population of bigger towns and cities in Texas, there was plenty of money to go around, and the citizens had chipped in to endow various wings and such with generous gifts.
Bailey was waiting for him in the lobby. She had already checked with the information desk for the room number, so when Gil joined her, they headed for the bank of elevators.
“He’s in a regular room,” she said. “That’s a good sign.”
Gil kissed her cheek, hugging her briefly with one arm. They were alone in the elevator as they rode up. “I’m very proud of you, Bailey. Alex is a lucky man to have you on his side.”
Her small smile was gratified. “Thank you. But until we bring this to a close, I won’t be able to relax.”
They got off on the third floor. A doctor was just coming out of Alex’s room. Bailey flashed her badge and asked for an update.
The physician shook his head. “Not much to tell. We’re running some tests, but the headache is most likely tied to the concussion. Not to mention the fact that Santiago is trying so hard to force himself to remember. I’ve cautioned him to back off. To rest. To give his brain time to heal. But patience isn’t his strong suit.”
Gil had known the doctor for many years. The man was, in fact, a longtime friend of Gil’s parents. “Nate said there’s some kind of commotion going on.”
The doctor raised a bushy eyebrow, his expression slightly harried. “That’s why we wanted to alert Ms. Collins. You might say there are some new developments in the case. And unfortunately, the sheriff was summoned away on an emergency.”
Gil saw Bailey tense. “What kind of developments?” she asked.
“Mr. Santiago’s father and sister have arrived from Mexico. The sheriff examined their credentials thoroughly before we allowed them to have access, though he has posted security guards, as you can see. Alex is awake and resting comfortably at the moment. We did give him something for pain, so he’s a little groggy.”
Gil put a hand at Bailey’s back, following her into the room. By the window stood an imposing man with short, jet-black hair who bore a striking resemblance to the patient in the bed. The older man, probably in his mid-fifties, wore an expensive gold wristwatch and the kind of clothes that were made by a personal tailor. His brown eyes were not warm. Instead they had the flat, mud-like appearance of stagnant water.
Sitting in a chair by the bed was a striking young woman with long black hair. Her figure was curvaceous to say the least. A large, intricate necklace of thin gold filigree inset with deep burgundy rubies accentuated modestly revealed cleavage. The color of the stones was passionate. But their fire was not reflected in her face. She seemed exhausted.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice deeply accented. “And why are you in my brother’s room?”
Bailey stepped forward, hand extended. “I’m Bailey Collins, state investigator. I’ve been assigned to work the case involving Mr. Santiago’s disappearance. And this is Gil Addison, president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”
The Latin beauty shook Bailey’s hand briefly, her ample bosom confined in a jade silk dress. “Pardon my frankness, Ms. Collins, but from what Alex tells us about his ordeal, your progress in the case is, how do you say it...zippo. Nada.”
Gil had to admire Bailey’s self-control. She took the criticism without flinching. “I understand your frustration. But I can assure you that we are narrowing the field of suspects day by day. We will find out who did this.” She paused. “I know the sheriff took a look at your identification, but I must ask to see it, as well. I’ll need to scan it into our database as a precaution. I hope you understand that I can’t merely take your word as to your connection with Alex.”
The beautiful woman shot a look at the stranger by the window. “This is all his fault. Ask him about our IDs.”
The older man ignored her.
Alex interrupted, his face etched in discomfort, his voice subdued. “Why would they lie?”
Gil watched in silence as Bailey eyed the visitors. After a brief hesitation, when Gil had the impression she was weighing her options, she offered her hand to the man, as well. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Santiago.”
The man’s eyes flashed and he ignored her overture, forcing her to drop her arm. “Enough pretense,” he hissed. “The IDs I showed the sheriff are fakes. My name is not Santiago. I am Rodrigo del Toro.” His voice resonated with arrogance and pride and a thick Spanish accent. “This is my daughter, Gabriella, and the man in the bed is my son, Alejandro.”
Gil tensed. “Alex lied to us?” Alex had never talked about his background, particularly not the fact that he had family in Mexico.
Alex, looking almost frail despite his fierce masculinity, winced. “It’s damned hard to answer that since I can’t remember a damn thing.”
Gabriella slapped his hand despite the fact that it was attached to an IV. “Language, mi hermano.”
“Sorry.” Alex grimaced. “I don’t know who you people are, and I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m Alex Santiago.” His face reddened. “I’m trying. Hell, I’m trying!” The monitor beeped as Alex’s blood pressure spike
d.
A nurse came running, her brows drawn together in a frown. “I must ask all of you to leave the room. Mr. Santiago needs to rest. There is a small conference room at the end of the corridor. Feel free to continue your conversation there.”
Alex’s father and sister each kissed him on the cheek with muttered apologies, and walked out. As Gil watched, Bailey approached the bed and laid a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “It’s not your job to figure this out,” she said softly. “There are a host of people looking out for you, and many professionals working on your case. I need you to quit worrying about things and concentrate on getting well.”
Alex’s jaw tightened, his hands gripping the sheet at his hips. “I have no clue if that man and woman are related to me or not. I remember you asking me questions when I was found. Do you really not know who did this to me?”
“I don’t. But I will. Let me do my job. And in the meantime, try not to push yourself to remember. Everything will sort itself out in the end.”
* * *
Bailey approached the conference room with a sense of exhilaration. This new information had the potential to break her case wide open. Gil walked at her side, his quiet presence comforting.
Once seated at the small table, Bailey and Gil faced the del Toros. Neither of Alex’s family members looked encouraging, though they did hand over their real driver’s licenses and passports, albeit grudgingly. But Bailey had been stonewalled by the best, and she wasn’t afraid of a little conflict. She pulled a small notebook and pen from her purse. Ordinarily, she would do an audio recording of an interview in addition to entering notes straight into her laptop. But she hadn’t come prepared for that scenario, and even if she had, she doubted if the two people eyeing her with varying degrees of hostility would agree to going on the record at this point.
Before Bailey could pose a question, Gabriella leaned forward, her anger clear, though it was not perhaps directed at Bailey. “My father is to blame for this horrible situation. He sent Alex here as a spy. No wonder my brother was kidnapped.”
Bailey turned to Rodrigo. “Is this true?”
The intimidating del Toro had ice in his gaze. She imagined that a man like him resented being cross-examined by a woman.
He leaned back in his chair, simulating calm, though his posture was rigid. “I assume that what I tell you is in confidence?”
She shook her head. “Not at all. If what you divulge to me is relevant to my investigation, I have to share salient points with other members of law enforcement. But you should realize...the more I know of the truth, the more quickly we can solve this case.”
The scowl on his cold but handsome face darkened. “I sent my son to Royal to gather information about Windsor Energy. My company, Del Toro Oil, is interested in a corporate takeover.”
For several long beats, silence reigned in the room. A quick glance at Gil told Bailey that he was as shocked as she was.
Gabriella’s dark eyes shone with tears. Her voice quivered. “It was the most wicked idea. Madre de Dios, Father. Alex could have been killed.”
Bailey fixed her attention on Gabriella’s father, speaking sternly. She felt sympathy for the sobbing woman, but she also knew this was a chance she couldn’t afford to miss. “Start from the beginning, Mr. del Toro. When was the last time you talked to your son?”
“From the accounts I have read in your newspapers, a couple of days before he disappeared. At the time, I did not know anything was wrong. We had agreed to be in contact only infrequently, because I wanted to keep a low profile.”
“What did you talk about that day? Was it privileged information?”
His jaw tightened. “No. We argued. He told me that he had una novia, that he had proposed marriage to her.”
“And you didn’t approve?”
Del Toro pounded a fist on the metal table, once. But with enough force to make his daughter jump. “I am one of the richest men in Mexico, Ms. Collins. Alejandro is my only son. He is destined to marry someone of his class and background. Not the daughter of a man whose business I plan to grind into the dust.”
“Charming,” Bailey muttered. “So the woman of whom you speak is Cara Windsor?”
“Yes. She bewitched my son somehow. Alejandro has always honored and obeyed his father. Suddenly, he was shouting at me. Insisting that he could no longer carry out my plan, because he had to prove to this Cara person that his love for her was real. We have telenovelas in my country, Ms. Collins, somewhat akin to your soap operas. I have seen the overly romantic drivel that passes for true love. But the real world is not so easily manipulated. I expect loyalty and obedience from my son.”
“How did your conversation end?” Bailey was chilled by the man’s hauteur.
“He hung up on me. I did not know until almost a week later that he had disappeared.”
“Why didn’t you come forward immediately?”
“My son is resourceful. And I did not want to tip my hand. I assumed that he would show up eventually.”
“And when he didn’t?”
“I was packed and ready to hop on a plane when the news service indicated that Alex had been found.”
“But without his memory.”
“True. These things, however, are usually temporary. I had great hope that he would recall his purpose in coming to Texas and would carry on with the job at hand.”
“And when it became clear that his amnesia was not going to clear up overnight?”
His jaw tightened. “I realized I had no choice but to come here and identify my son.”
“When you walked into the room, did he show any signs of recognizing either one of you?”
Gabriella spoke up. She had been standing with her back to them, gazing out the window. She turned now, her cheeks streaked with moisture. “Alex knows nothing.” Her voice was thick. “My beloved brother knows nothing.”
The tears started again. Bailey’s heart went out to the young woman. Though Bailey had no siblings of her own, she could only imagine what it must be like to have a loved one regard you as a stranger.
She tapped her pen on the pad, her brain whirling with questions. “Do you plan to stay here in Royal for any length of time?”
“I will not leave until my Alex is fully recovered.” Gabriella’s words were adamant. Her father appeared less sure.
“We will see what happens,” he said.
“You may be very unpopular,” Bailey pointed out. “Alex made many friends in his time here, but no one likes a mole.”
“A mole?” he asked.
Though both del Toros spoke immaculate English, perhaps the slang did not translate. “An informant. A corporate spy.”
Gabriella wrapped her arms around her waist, her lashes spiky. “We need additional security for my brother, Ms. Collins. Now that the truth has come out, he will have more enemies. And whoever kidnapped him will no doubt realize that he is an extremely valuable asset, a bargaining chip if you will. They may try again.”
“That will be a problem,” Bailey said. “My employers are chronically understaffed.”
Del Toro glared at his daughter. “Money is no object. I will hire bodyguards for Alejandro. And perhaps investigators of my own.”
Bailey was startled to see Gil stand up, his face a thundercloud. “Watch your step, del Toro,” he said, the words low and vibrating with anger. “This woman has spent more hours than you can imagine trying to find out why your son was kidnapped and by whom. You will give her the respect she is due.”
The older man bristled, but he looked at Bailey and waved a hand. “I meant no insult. I am sorry if I gave offense.”
As apologies went, it was weak, but Bailey accepted it at face value. She was stunned by Gil’s impassioned defense of her work. Stunned and deeply touched. But she didn’t need Gil fighting her battles.
To allow him to do so would make her look weak.
She stood, gathering her things. “My job and my reputation are very important to me. And I have given my all to this case, though it isn’t necessary for Mr. Addison to point that out.” She scowled at Gil before continuing to address Alex’s presumed family. “I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. del Toro. Ms. del Toro. I will have someone return your identification papers in the next hour or two. I assume you both will be staying with Alex?”
“If he will have us.” Gabriella managed a weak smile.
Her father rose to his feet, as well. “My family will be together. And all of my resources are at your disposal, Ms. Collins. The sooner my son’s attackers are behind bars, the sooner we can return home.”
Eleven
Gil took Bailey’s elbow as they walked across the parking lot. “Well, that was a surprise.”
She nodded, her face troubled. “I felt like I was making definite progress with the investigation up until today, but del Toro’s revelations put things in a whole new light.”
“Does this mean Chance is off the hook?”
“I know you don’t want to think he had anything to do with Alex’s kidnapping. But I learned a long time ago that a surprising number of seemingly nice, normal people are capable of committing terrible sins in the heat of the moment. Chance certainly had motive.”
“Because Cara broke his heart? You don’t know that.”
“True. And he doesn’t act like he has a broken heart. But he could be hiding both his feelings and his guilt.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on the subject of Chance McDaniel,” Gil said as he backed her up against the truck, his hips pinning hers to the door. No one was anywhere around. He bent his head and kissed her, sliding a hand around the back of her neck. “I wanted to stay in bed with you this morning,” he confessed, his heart pumping as arousal brought his erection to full throttle.
Bailey’s brown-eyed gaze clung to his. “I appreciated the privacy and your note. It was awkward enough as it was running into your housekeeper. I felt like I had a scarlet A on my chest.”
Beneath the Stetson Page 10
