Unfortunately, Peter knew his father was right. Before disconnecting, Max gave him the coordinates for the drug processing lab along the Colombian border. In another week, the renegade air force pilots working for General Hadley were expected to bring Baltasar his money and pick up another five hundred kilos destined for Colorado. Only there wouldn’t be one penny of drug money on that plane; instead it would be full of CIA, DEA and FBI operatives. He would be at the lab when the raid went down, but first he had to figure out what to do with Emily.
He pocketed the phone and walked toward the main house, checking it from one end to the other. Luckily, Baltasar had his guards on a standard rotation schedule that didn’t seem to vary much. He checked once again to make sure his timing was right, then approached the hospital wing. Emily wasn’t there. He found Dr. Fletcher dozing in a chair in front of a large-screen TV, but no sign of Emily.
He slipped back out the door and into the courtyard, glancing through as many windows as he could as he followed the courtyard behind the back of the house, through the pool area and cabanas where two guards were smoking cigarettes and cursing in Spanish as they played pool.
From what he could decipher, one of the guards wasn’t too happy with Emily and wanted to teach her a lesson. Peter’s fists clenched as he listened to the guard rant and rave. He was beginning to believe it would take a miracle for Emily to get out of this country unscathed.
Silently, he slipped through the tall bushes and trees that outlined the house. He stopped next to Baltasar’s study. The room was dark and empty. Now would be the perfect time to slip in and search his desk and computer files, but the persistent thought that Emily could be in danger kept nagging at him. Lord only knew what kind of trouble she’d gotten herself into now. It was always something. That impulsive streak of hers was going to be their downfall, he just knew it.
Reluctantly, he passed by Baltasar’s office and kept circling around the building, all the while hoping she hadn’t been foolish enough to go out into the jungle at night alone. Although he knew if she’d gotten it into her mind that would solve her problems, then he had no doubt that was exactly what she’d do.
As he continued his surveillance, he heard her laughter chiming through the night carried on the balmy air. He hurried forward, drawn as much by the sound as he was by his need to see her, to prove to himself that she was okay and still in the house.
He turned a corner and suddenly stopped as the acrid scent of tobacco smoke hit him. He wasn’t alone. He moved cautiously forward until he spotted a soft red glow through the thick green leaves. Careful not to make a sound, he crept closer. He heard Emily’s laugh again and saw her clearly through the window. Who would be standing in the bushes, spying on Emily?
Snake.
Like death’s heavy black cloak, dread settled over Peter as he watched Baltasar’s number one henchman stand concealed in the bushes spying on Baltasar and Emily. He tried to determine what could be so interesting about them having dinner. They were sitting at the end of an enormous dining table, talking like old friends, laughing, having an all-around good time. Peter’s gut clenched. Hadn’t he warned her? Hadn’t he told her how dangerous Baltasar could be? And there she was doing what she’d always done, doing whatever she pleased.
He fumed as he watched Baltasar grow more and more enamored with his wife. Correction—his ex-wife and with good reason, too. The woman refused to listen. Snake dropped his cigarette and ground it into the soft earth. Who was he interested in, Emily or Baltasar? Peter watched as Snake disappeared around the front of the house. The man would bear closer watching.
Satisfied that Emily was indeed safe, Peter left the main house to check the other bungalows and try to exact a head count of how many guards were at the compound and when they patrolled and where. Two hours later, he made his way back to the dining room. He was more than a little relieved to find it empty. He headed toward Baltasar’s office; unfortunately, the drug lord was there pounding away on his computer. Peter would have to check back later for another opportunity to search Baltasar’s office.
He continued around back, past the pool and the guards in the cabana and into the courtyard off the hospital wing. The television was turned off and the room was dark; Robert must have called it a night. Peter slipped in and locked the door behind him, even though he was certain the guards probably all had keys. The thought bothered him, but he didn’t see any way around it.
He continued down the hall to Emily’s room, and peeked through her door. The tension dropped out of his shoulders at the sight of her sleeping peacefully in her bed. He crept into her room and stood over her for a moment, looking down at her blond hair fanning the pillow. Shafts of moonlight spilled across her face. He stared at her, amazed that she still had the ability to take his breath away.
A soft breeze blew in through the open window and he was tempted to sit in the chair next to her bed and watch her sleep. But he couldn’t. He still had a long night ahead of him surveilling the compound and gathering as much information as he could. She moaned slightly, her lips parting as she let out a gentle sigh and before he could stop himself, he lightly grazed his thumb across her lips. He wished he could lean down and take a small taste, but while she could play the role of Sleeping Beauty, he was no Prince Charming.
He forced himself to walk away.
“Don’t go,” she said softly.
He stopped, stiffening. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Why are you here?”
“I needed to check for myself that you’re okay.” No, that wasn’t true. He knew she was okay, he just wanted to be near her again, to see if all those feelings he’d been carrying around were still for her, or for what used to be.
She sat up. “I’m okay…now that you’re here.”
He ignored the breathiness in her tone, the implications of her words, and the unspoken invitation in the way the blanket fell down to hover at her waist, revealing a modest pale pink nightgown that shone in the soft light of the moon. “I should go,” he said, before he did something he couldn’t take back.
“There’s so much…I’ve wished we could say.”
“We don’t need to rehash everything again.” There was no reason. Nothing had changed.
She looked down at her lap and fiddled with the covers.
“Have you found anyone…?” It was awkward. He didn’t know why he asked. It was none of his business, and yet, all this time the only way he’d been able to make it through the long nights was by convincing himself that she’d moved on, that she was happy in a way he would never be able to make her. If he knew for sure, then maybe he’d be able to move on, too, and finally find some peace.
“No,” she said softly.
It was amazing how that one word, with its one simple syllable could have such an impact on his gut. He took a deep breath. “Why not? You should have married by now, you should be raising babies. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” Isn’t that why we’re not together? The unspoken words burned inside him.
“I guess I’m a tough case—too hard to please.”
Her words were vague, but her eyes said so much more. She hadn’t gotten over him, either. “Don’t say that,” he whispered.
“It’s true.”
“Emily. We can’t go back. Things are different now—”
“I know. Things are even worse. If you weren’t courting danger before…you’re sleeping with it now.”
“I’m sorry. That’s my life.”
Her eyes shone bright in the moonlight. “Why are you here, Peter?”
“I can’t tell you.” He wished he could. Maybe it would make a difference, maybe it would make her more careful, and maybe it would get her killed.
She stood and faced him. “Of course. You never could tell me anything about your work. Maybe if you had, I wouldn’t have felt so alone, so isolated.”
He raked a hand through his hair. This was getting them nowhere. “I thought we weren’t going to go do
wn that road again.”
“All right, but just tell me one thing.”
“If I can.”
“Are you selling drugs? Or—”
Peter stiffened. “Like I said, I can’t talk about my work.”
Her lips started to tremble and she looked at him with such heartbreak on her face, he felt an overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms and assure her that everything would be all right, but he knew it wouldn’t be all right. Not for them, not ever again.
“All I can tell you is that Baltasar is dangerous. Be careful around him and especially around his guards. I’ll try to get you out as soon as I can.” He had to.
She nodded. “Then will you be coming back home?”
“Nothing has changed, Emily. There isn’t anything left in Colorado Springs for me.” It was harsh, but it had to be said. He couldn’t leave her with any false illusions. Nothing had changed. He was still the same man he was three years ago when she’d walked out of his hospital room and divorced him.
“A lot has changed,” she said, and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down.
Before he could stop it, his lips met hers in a fiery explosion that he couldn’t resist. She felt exactly as he knew she would: sweet, luscious, seductive. More temptation than he could withstand. His blood thickened as their kiss deepened. He pulled her closer and grabbed fistfuls of her silky hair. How he missed her, he thought, with a longing that ached more than he could bear.
No, he had to stop this. It was only going to make things worse and put them in greater danger. “Emily,” he breathed and pulled back. “I want—” he opened his eyes and saw a small red glow burn bright outside her window. Snake. His heart slammed into the side of his chest. He pushed her away then ran to the open window. Snake was gone, but the distinctive scent of his cigarettes still wafted in the air.
“Peter, what is it?”
How long had Snake been standing there, watching…listening? A silent dread moved steadily through him. How much had he heard?
Chapter Five
Confusion filled Emily as she watched Peter at the window. “Peter, what is it?” Her mind, still reeling from their kiss, couldn’t grasp what was wrong. It didn’t help that her lips were still tingling, her heart still aching.
“Emily, you have to leave. Now.” He grabbed her duffel bag out of the closet and started throwing her stuff in it.
He wanted her to go that badly? Just because of one little kiss? Okay, one great kiss, but still. “Don’t be ridiculous, Peter. We’re in the middle of the jungle. I’ve been out there during the day, and I can guarantee you there is no way I’m going out there at night.”
“He saw us.”
“Who?”
“Snake.”
“Oh.” Just the sound of his name sent a quiver rushing down her spine. “So, he saw us kiss. Aren’t people allowed to kiss in South America?”
“He could have heard us.”
She didn’t like his quick, jerky movements, or the way his jaw looked as if he were biting down on his teeth, trying to keep himself calm. She’d never seen him look that way before. Ever.
“He’ll know we were married. He’ll know I used to live in Colorado Springs. He could have heard you call me Peter,” he rasped.
Emily’s knees weakened. “You are still with the CIA. I knew it! You’re working undercover trying to stop the drug trade—”
“Keep out of it, Emily.”
“I can’t keep out of it. Like you said, Snake saw us kissing. Lord, they’re going to kill you.”
Peter muttered a curse and paced back and forth across the room. “No one is going to get killed. Not you and certainly not me.”
She put her hand on his arm, stopping him. “You’ll get us out of this. I know you will, because you’re good at what you do. When the time comes, you’ll know exactly what to say and do.”
He speared his fingers through his hair. “I have to find a way to get you out of here.”
“Peter, stop it.” She caught her breath as he turned to her. She’d never seen him look so worried, so scared. “You’re focusing on me and I’m not the one in danger right now. Baltasar needs me to care for his son, and nothing is going to happen to me as long as he does. Now, remove me from the equation and think about what you would do if I wasn’t here.”
Peter took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. Worrying about you is definitely interfering with my ability to concentrate.”
“That’s nice to hear.” She smiled, leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.
He brought his hands to her cheeks and pulled her forward, kissing her hard and deep, and leaving her breathless. He came up for air. “We need a plan.”
Marcos groaned from the other room. Emily pulled away. “I have to go to him.”
“All right, but don’t leave the hospital wing. I’m going to find Snake and try to determine what he saw and heard.”
“Okay, be careful,” she said as fear for his safety flooded through her, making it difficult to think.
“Meet me tomorrow morning at eight o’clock where I found you today.”
“By that giant snake?”
Peter opened the screen and swung his legs out the window. “Better get used to the snakes, baby, the jungle’s full of them.” He stepped into the bushes and disappeared.
Emily didn’t like the way the jungle swallowed him whole. She shut the screen and closed the window, unnervingly aware of how easy it would be for someone to watch her. She hurried as the sound of another groan reached her. Why hadn’t she stayed home in her nice, safe little apartment in her idyllic American town? “Because I wanted a little adventure, a little excitement,” she muttered. “And I sure got it—aren’t I lucky?”
Peter spotted Snake’s trail and retraced his steps before they disappeared into the thick grass. He continued around the house and found Snake in Baltasar’s office. Peter moved in as close as he dared outside the office window and hoped Snake wouldn’t give away what he’d seen and heard.
“Is everything as we expect?” Baltasar asked.
Peter’s heart raced as he waited for Snake to speak.
Snake nodded, and leaned forward, mumbling something Peter couldn’t quite catch.
Frustration mounted inside him as Baltasar tipped back his chair. “I want preparations made. Nothing can go wrong.” He picked up the phone. After a few seconds, he said, “I want the drop point changed for the shipment.”
Peter moved forward, suddenly aware that they weren’t talking about him and Emily but about the upcoming shipment of cash he was expecting.
“I can’t get a hold of Barclay,” Baltasar barked into the phone. “Get hold of General Hadley. Make sure nothing holds up this shipment. I won’t leave Marcos. I want the plane to come in here instead of the lab. Yes, here at the compound. And I want it earlier than we scheduled. Find Hadley and make it happen.” Baltasar nodded and chuckled. “And if you do see Barclay, issue an invitation to the weasel. I want him to come to South America and meet Leona. I don’t like the way he’s been handling my interests lately. His obsession with his bid for mayor is interfering with him running Diablo properly.”
Peter wondered who Baltasar was talking to. Who would be in position in Colorado Springs to get to Hadley and change the drop? Obviously, there was another of Baltasar’s cohorts they weren’t aware of, and if he discovered the CIA has Barclay, then their whole operation would be shot. He had to get ahold of his father.
He turned to leave, then stopped when he heard Baltasar bellow, “Pietro and Dr. Armstrong? Are you sure?”
Peter glanced back into the study, his gut twisting with dread.
“I don’t like this, Snake. I have too much riding on this deal for some lowlife pig to screw it up for me now.”
Snake nodded, but didn’t speak loud enough for Peter to hear what he said.
“I will wait to hear from my operatives in Chicago tomorrow. Once the product is transferred, Pietro an
d I will have a little talk. Apparently, he needs a lesson in boundaries.”
Peter heaved a sigh of relief. He had a short reprieve. The Chicago shipment would go down at noon tomorrow—that meant he had until one o’clock to get the information he needed on Baltasar’s man in Colorado. If the CIA messed up the pickup at the hotels, he’d be out on his ear, if he was lucky. The noose clinched his neck and Peter couldn’t say he liked the fit.
“This doctor has been trouble from the start. I want a full background check done on Dr. Armstrong, more detailed than what you did last time. Go beyond her time at Vance Memorial. I want to know everything. Got it?”
Snake nodded and rose.
Peter ducked back out of sight, and wondered how long it would take Snake to get a picture of Emily and him on their wedding day. The noose squeezed tighter.
“We’ve got a problem,” Peter whispered into his phone once he reached his bungalow.
“What now?” Max asked.
“Baltasar wants the location of the drop changed to the estate.”
Maxwell Vance let loose a heavy sigh. “What on earth for? The risk is too high. The Venezuelan authorities monitor air traffic that close to Caracas.”
“He won’t leave his son. He must have arranged a payoff. He also wants the date of the drop moved up.”
Max muttered a curse so loud and so vile Peter’s ears burned.
“Apparently he still has a contact working for him in Colorado Springs. He told him to get ahold of Hadley and make the changes.”
There was a moment of silence. “All right, we’ll spring Hadley and make it happen. Then maybe we’ll even be able to flush out who this guy is.”
“Also, tell Barclay that Baltasar wants him to meet Leona. That might loosen his lips.”
“Who’s Leona?”
“I don’t know. But it didn’t sound like a friendly meeting.” Peter took a second, then said the words he’d been dreading. “Dad, my cover’s been compromised.” Anxiety burned in Peter’s chest. He hated to let his father down, but worse, he couldn’t quite stomach the fact that he might fail a mission.
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