To the Limit (Shadow Heroes Book 3)

by Virginia Kelly

  It was too much to take in—Nick on the ground, Smith claiming the kidnapping was a hoax.

  “Now, get in the Jeep,” Smith said. “Wyatt, check out their car, bring anything they have in there.” He directed Mary Beth to the Jeep and nodded at two of the soldiers who moved toward Nick.

  Then she saw Nick turn his head toward her and mouth a single word: now.

  Her decision on whether to trust him or not was instinctive.

  ***

  Nick squeezed the trigger twice as Mary Beth dove for the ground. The two soldiers who were approaching Nick fell, one clutching his side, the other his thigh. The soldier named Wyatt froze, his rifle still down at his side.

  “Drop it,” Nick, semiautomatic aimed at Smith, ordered the man named Wyatt.

  Wyatt’s finger moved toward the trigger of his weapon.

  “Tell your man to drop his rifle,” Nick told Smith.

  “Shoot him!” Smith shouted at Wyatt, who stood unmoving. “Shoot him!”

  “The hell I will,” Wyatt replied. “He dropped Jonah and Ed too fast. They need a doctor. You’re not paying us enough to get killed.” He threw his rifle down.

  Standing, Nick ordered, “Help the others then turn around and start walking.”

  Smith seemed to waver for a moment. “Do it,” he said to Wyatt. To Nick, he said, “I’ll find you, Romero. I’ll find you.” Then he smiled. “She’ll pay for this.”

  The instinct to kill Smith burned in Nick. Instead he punched hard, bloodied Smith’s nose and knock him down. Enraged, Smith yelled, “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

  “Take care of your men,” Nick said.

  But it was Wyatt who helped the other two to their feet.

  “Move,” Nick ordered the man. With Smith trailing, Wyatt and the two wounded mercenaries began walking away. When they were fifty meters out, Nick turned to Mary Beth and said, “We’re taking Smith’s Jeep.”

  “I thought you were unconscious,” Mary Beth said as he cranked the engine. They’d transferred their bags from the Land Cruiser to the Jeep.

  “He didn’t connect as well as he thought he had.” He’d managed to duck just in time; otherwise that bastard—

  “How did you do it?” Mary Beth asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Pull out your gun so fast. Shoot them, but not kill them.”

  “Lucky, I guess.”

  “That wasn’t luck,” she replied. “That was fast. And accurate.”

  Nick considered how much to tell her. Maybe it was time to divulge a bit more. It might make her feel safer. “I was a pretty good marksman when I was with the Rangers. I have a good eye.” And an ability he’d tried his damnedest never to use again. It bore proof of his heritage from Antonio Vargas.

  She said nothing. It made him uncomfortable. Made him want to explain. And that was the worst thing of all. What was he going to explain? That he wasn’t who he pretended to be? That he’d inherited some of Antonio Vargas’ worst traits?

  He’d wanted to shoot Smith and the others, especially the man called Wyatt, had wanted to do something that would show them they couldn’t touch what was his.

  But she wasn’t.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  He drove the Jeep down the road a few hundred yards, then off, over the rough highlands terrain. His knowledge of the country would be his guide. He had to stay off the roads. They couldn’t afford to have the Rangers find them. Smith was out of the picture, at least temporarily. They had to reach the Río Hermoso Valley to get their answers.

  “They’re mercenaries, aren’t they, Smith’s men?” Mary Beth asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And General Vargas is behind all of this, trying to use me to get Mark to turn himself in.”

  It was time she knew what he’d suspected for some time. “It never made sense that Primero de Mayo would kidnap and ransom their source of guns. If they thought Mark had double-crossed them, they’d…”

  “Kill him,” she filled in while he struggled to find words that wouldn’t hurt her. “And you’re using me.”

  He glanced at her quickly. “Not to hurt your brother.”

  “For what, then?”

  He turned down a steep hill, carefully avoiding huge boulders. “This is a power play by Vargas. He wants a big showy victory so he can use it in order to make a run for the presidency.”

  “And you think chasing after Mark will do that?”

  “Vargas sees this gunrunning investigation as a way to clean up his public image. But he’s hiding something. That something could be his downfall.” It all involved him somehow. Otherwise there was no reason for Vargas to ask him to burn the house, no reason to even approach him. Was there really something he thought Nick should cover up for Daniel?

  “Revenge,” she said. The word sounded obscene when she said it. “You want revenge for what happened to your cousin.”

  “It’s necessary,” he argued, unwilling to admit the truth to her. He knew himself, understood the emotions he kept hidden. He didn’t want her to see them.

  “It doesn’t matter what you call it. Mark is all that matters to me. You want revenge, I want my brother. If Vargas wants Mark, then one way for you to bring Vargas down is for us to find Mark.”

  “You’re not afraid that I’ll leave your brother to Vargas in order to get my supposed revenge?”

  She looked at him with an unwavering gaze that made him wonder what she saw.

  “No. You won’t do that.”

  She turned in her seat and faced forward, her chin high. He understood. She was challenging him to meet her expectations of his better nature.

  If only he could meet his own.

  ***

  Nick rolled down the Jeep’s window. Two hours out, they reached the eastern slopes of the Andes. It was warmer, muggy. Rain clouds hovered on the horizon. By the time they descended to the four-thousand-foot level, it would probably be raining. The narrow pass that had closed the road earlier in the week, the only way to the valley, was still ahead of them. That was the last chance anyone had of catching them before they could vanish into the high jungle of the Río Hermoso. Unless he went down another way.

  They stopped on the outskirts of the old colonial town of Trujillo and bought bottled water. Mary Beth insisted they also buy bread, beef jerky, a banana and oranges which they found at an open-air market.

  When they got back into the Jeep, Nick winced when his stomach wound protested the movement.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like somebody stuck a knife in me.”

  “Funny.” She opened a bottle of water and handed it to him as he started the vehicle. “I don’t believe that the American embassy has given Smith the authority to use mercenaries.”

  “Smith has his own agenda,” Nick replied before taking a long drink. “There’s no point in guessing what it is.” But he was increasingly convinced Smith was CIA. Good or bad was the question. “Your brother is the only one who can straighten out the whole mess.”

  “You think he’s guilty of everything they’ve accused him of.” Defeat had crept into her words.

  “I don’t know what to think.” Except that Daniel was involved with Williams. If only he could figure out why. “I wish we had the papers we found in your brother’s safe deposit box.”

  “They’re in my bag,” Mary Beth replied. “I’ve looked at the numbers and compared them to some of the bills I have with me. The numbers and letters match as far as format.” She reached down to the bag she’d moved from the Land Cruiser to the Jeep and pulled the papers from the folder they’d found them in. She’d put them in a plastic bag. “You look,” she said, passing the bag to him.

  He removed the papers from the plastic, careful not to drop anything. The first thing he saw was the stiff, folded copy of Mark Williams’ will. Opening the folder, he scanned pages and noted the date of the document. Three years ago. Whatever Williams had, he left to his sister. Did Williams have some reason to thi
nk he might die in San Mateo?

  He looked at the scrawled dates that indicated times before Daniel’s death. What were Williams and Daniel doing? Were they trying to make use of the counterfeit money? But Daniel didn’t need the money.

  “The money you took from the bank. Is that all the money your brother has?”

  “As far as I know. He inherited some beach property from our grandfather. It’s worth a lot, but he still has it.” She looked at him. “If you’re implying that Mark’s into counterfeiting because he needs the money, you’re wrong. He was an engineer, a well-paid one.”

  Nick admired her loyalty to her brother.

  “Did your cousin need it?” she asked.

  “No. There’s plenty of money. Daniel’s salary wasn’t much, but—.” He took a breath, “Daniel is—was—a Romero, too.” He knew he was trying to convince himself. “He didn’t need the money.”

  “If neither of them needed the money, then it’s something else.”

  “What, then? Daniel didn’t need the money to be made in either counterfeiting or the gun trade. If Mark didn’t, it still makes no sense.”

  He handed the bag and its contents back to Mary Beth. Rain splattered the windshield.

  “Mark will explain it all.”

  But by now, the chances of finding Mark Williams alive, with so many people after him, were fading. When Nick found him, whether dead or alive, he’d have to rely on the few clues they had to get to the truth and protect Daniel and the family from whatever had brought these two men together.

  “Will we be able to get into the valley without being seen?”

  “There’s only the one road, which may still be closed. Even if it’s open, it’ll be watched, but there are other ways down.” Ways that might keep her safely away from whatever her brother had gotten himself into.

  “Then we’ll have to use one of those other ways,” she said.

  She had no idea what those other ways meant, not with this rain.

  The rain kept its relentless grip on them as they continued the descent out of the mountains. Finally, at midafternoon, Nick pulled the Jeep under the cover of deep, undisturbed tropical forest. He fell asleep while Mary Beth did the same.

  An hour later, he woke and sat up. The rain had stopped. Turning, he could make out only her shape under the darkened canopy of the forest. He wished he could see her. Touch her.

  But he didn’t trust himself, didn’t trust the faith she had placed in him. She might have done as he’d asked so far, but if she felt that a challenge was necessary to make him do the right thing, she’d never completely trust him without the unvarnished truth. Which he couldn’t provide.

  There was no solution, nothing he could do to make everything work out the way it would in a fairy tale. He knew there would never be any happily-ever-afters in his life.

  But God knew he wanted nothing more than to kiss this sleeping beauty. That made him smile to himself. She’d laugh if she knew he’d thought of her that way.

  Whatever Daniel and Mark Williams had been doing together stood at the center of the entire mess. Dragging Daniel’s name through the mud was not acceptable. Not to him. Not to Doña Elena. Not to the Romero family. He couldn’t let it happen. He didn’t owe Mark Williams a thing.

  What he felt for the man’s sister was going to haunt him forever. With one last look at her, he carefully opened the Jeep door, got out and walked into the shaded darkness of the misty forest.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mary Beth couldn’t wake up even though she knew it was a dream. A really bad one. An ominous darkness settled over her, chilling her.

  In the distance, at the edges of the forest, Mark ran, as if dodging some invisible menace. Huge trees blocked her view of him until he finally disappeared into the dark mouth of the jungle. She had never seen him like this. Dirty, an unkempt beard, his clothes ripped and bloodied.

  Oh, God, Mark. What is going on?

  She came awake with a start, alone, in the Jeep. Daylight barely penetrated the forest canopy, giving everything an otherworldly glow. Animals moved, birds chirped high overhead.

  Nick was nowhere around. What if she’d been wrong to trust even half of what he’d said? She had to decide what to do in case he didn’t come back. She was alone at the back of beyond in a foreign country. Maybe she could get to a town and find a telephone. She could call for help. She just didn’t know who to call. The American ambassador to San Mateo was one choice, but if he’d approved Smith’s methods, she’d only be giving herself up to him. And if the ambassador had given his okay, it meant it all came from the top of the State Department, despite her faith in the Secretary.

  Her father was the better choice. Asking him to pull her out of a mess of her own making was galling, but there was no one else if she expected to help Mark. She should have called him immediately, instead of trying to deal with this on her own.

  Or with Nick’s help.

  She had to start thinking instead of depending on anyone. She knew better, yet she’d come to rely on Nick. She rummaged in the bag and pulled out Mark’s papers again. The numbers. Mark had to have put the numbers in the safe deposit box because he didn’t want anyone to get to them. He’d trusted her to see them. She had to protect them. Not sure she was doing the right thing, she carefully tore the numbers off the thick paper. After folding them and the note, she ripped the plastic bag to make a small piece, wrapped both in the plastic, and put them in her pocket.

  Climbing out of the Jeep, she scanned her surroundings. Watery sunlight filtered through the trees casting swaying shadows. She couldn’t shake the sense of doom her dream had given her. And despite every cautionary warning she’d given herself, she couldn’t believe Nick had really left her here.

  Hunger, exhaustion and plain fright gave way to defeat. Tears burned her eyes. She never cried. Never. Yet she wanted nothing more than to have a good cry.

  Then she heard it.

  A twig breaking. Followed by deathly silence. No birds sang, no animals moved.

  Then a rustling of vegetation.

  Breath hitched, Mary Beth sought a hiding place in the dim forest. The high canopy prevented much undergrowth. Trying not to panic, she rushed toward the biggest tree she could see, away from the Jeep, and moved behind it. She took a deep breath, leaned against the rough bark, angled her body and peeked into the clearing, toward the sound.

  Nick, leather holster across his shoulders, walked toward her.

  Relief made her sag against the tree.

  “Mary Beth?” he said softly.

  She swallowed twice, swallowing the tears that had threatened. Because of him. Because she thought he’d left her.

  Then anger took over. Anger at herself for trusting him, for so easily depending on him. That anger brought her back under control. She grasped it like a life line.

  She could do this. She could deal with him, with the way he made her feel. The only thing that mattered was helping Mark.

  “Mary Beth?”

  Did the sound of his question reflect fear? She didn’t want to let that thought sway her in any way.

  “Here I am,” she said, stepping into the open.

  In the light dappled forest, she saw a flicker of emotion on his face. The steel-nerved negotiator momentarily let down his guard and she saw what she could only describe as relief. Just as quickly as it was revealed, it was hidden again.

  “I woke up and went to look around. Did you get any sleep?” he asked.

  She couldn’t let him get to her. Wouldn’t let feelings she thought she’d read affect her. “Yes,” she said.

  He turned away, saying, “Let’s eat, then.”

  ***

  Nick cut up the cold bread, cheese and jerky. They ate quickly, drinking bottled water. With Nick’s pocket-knife as their only utensil, they were forced to eat with their fingers. Mary Beth bit into an orange he’d peeled and sectioned, trying to keep the juice from dripping onto her clothes.

  He smiled at her ef
forts. “Don’t mind your manners because of me.”

  “I suppose you could do better?” There was an annoyed bite to her reply.

  “I’m not trying to eat this as if we were at a White House reception,” he teased.

  “And I am?”

  “You try too hard.”

  “This is all too easy for you.” She reached for another slice of orange.

  “That bothers you?”

  “Shouldn’t it? We’ve been chased and shot at—you’ve been stabbed. You act like it’s just another day at the office.”

  Nick wanted nothing more than to tell her it would all be okay. Fear for her had provoked both anger and possessiveness when Smith had caught up to them, and again when he thought she’d left the Jeep and gotten lost … or worse. He’d forced his chaotic emotions aside in order to do what had to be done. Now he chose the most innocuous of the many things rolling around in his mind, trying to avoid the feelings she engendered.

  “It will end soon.”

  She focused those tea-colored eyes on him and said, “I won’t be left behind.”

  So that was it. She thought he’d left her. This woman who’d seen the truth of his relationship to Alex and Cristina thought he’d abandoned her.

  “I won’t leave you.” His words were intended for the moment. They begged a more permanent sentiment.

  The sound of birds again filled the silence as they sat cross-legged, facing each other.

  She was the one to break eye contact. She raised an orange slice to her lips. He saw her fingers tremble, saw her lips part. The slice dropped.

  “Look out,” he warned, catching the orange in her lap. Juice oozed through his fingers onto her jeans despite his efforts. She grabbed at the drops, instinctively taking her slim fingers to her mouth. Nick’s breath caught, his gaze frozen on her mouth. He raised the fruit to her lips. She watched him with wary, alert eyes.

  He wanted to tell her to move away, not to let him make another mistake, but the words were caught in the overwhelming pull of desire. She parted her lips, accepting his offering, her breath warm, her teeth white against his fingertips.