Every Waking Moment

by Meryl Sawyer

  “Black magic, white magic. Do you believe in that stuff?”

  “My mother pinned an azabache on me the day she brought me home from the hospital to ward off the evil eye.”

  “A pin like the one Renata was wearing?”

  “Exactly. I guess I’m a little superstitious.”

  He couldn’t believe a woman who was so intelligent actually believed in Santería. “Honey, don’t worry about Sophie. If she calls again, hang up.”

  “I will. But for good measure, I’m going to have my mother counter this with a limpieza. That’s a ritual cleansing to ward off any hexes. She knows how to do it.”

  “She hasn’t been home from the hospital very long. Are you sure you want to bother her?”

  “Mmmm, maybe not.” Brianna toyed with her empty cup. “Renata was threatened with Santería, too. Do you suppose it was Sophie?”

  “I doubt it. Why would Sophie care one way or another about Renata?”

  “Revenge. All of this is about revenge.”

  Doyle didn’t argue with her. His wife had a sixth sense about things.

  “I have this terrible feeling … Taylor’s in danger.”

  “Shane’s with her all the time. He’ll protect her.”

  “Sorry this took so long,” Hank Olfeld told Shane on the telephone late in the afternoon. “The brass sent me over to Germany. I just got back.”

  “Did you crack the code?”

  “The computer did. It’s drugs. Cocaine mostly. Some heroin.”

  Shane was so surprised that there was a moment of dead air on his end of the line. He’d been certain Jim Wilson was using the site to launder bingo skim.

  “Would you create an attachment and E-mail the data to me?” Shane asked.

  “Will do.”

  “I owe you one.”

  Shane hung up and walked down to Taylor’s office. He motioned for her to come with him so the bug wouldn’t pick up his voice.

  “My friend at the DIA cracked the code,” he told her when they were down the hall. “Drugs.”

  “Oh, my God! Why our Web site?”

  “Good question. I suspect they thought the police wouldn’t look there.”

  “What do we do now? Call the police?”

  “We’ll have to, but let’s wait until Hank e-mails me the decoded info. I want to look at it first.”

  “Will you be able to tell who they are? Where they are?”

  “Maybe. That’s what I spent the last two years doing in South America. I tracked drug money being funneled to terrorist groups. But don’t get your hopes up. These people are slick.

  “That’s why they use Web sites like To The Maxx. They can be anywhere in the world and access the information. Or send info to their buddies.”

  “Our Web server said our site was secure.”

  “Somebody had the code or hacked in.”

  Taylor sighed. “We better tell Doyle and Trent.”

  “Let’s keep this to ourselves until I go over the decoded material.”

  “You think it might be Raoul, don’t you?”

  “When you’ve got a habit, you deal or you steal to support it. Just in case it’s him, let’s not tip him off by telling Trent.”

  He kissed her cheek and patted her cute fanny.

  “Go back to work. Hank’s E-mail has probably come through. I’ll see what’s on it.”

  On his way back to the computer, Shane’s cell phone rang. It was Vince.

  “The tracking chips are here and the monitor. That was fast.”

  “I paid extra for overnight delivery. Will you run the chips by my apartment later? I want to get one on Taylor right away.”

  “No problem. I’ve hired two people who can start here tomorrow. I’ll train them how to use the monitor.”

  “The problem’s going to be getting the chips on the others without them knowing it.”

  “You’ll think of something. You always do.”

  He was wondering about how to get the chips on them when he opened the E-mail from Hank. It was drugs, all right. A sizable operation with the shipments coming out of Colombia to cities all across the United States.

  He studied the screen and saw a familiar pattern.

  Aw, hell.

  How stupid could he be? Why hadn’t he figured it out?

  Taylor curled up on Shane’s sofa and watched the Discovery channel, Auggie at her feet. The program featured Florida’s endangered manatees.

  Vince had dropped by with the chips. Shane had put one on the side of Taylor’s gold Ebell watch. The face was mother-of-pearl with tiny diamonds around it. The watch had been a college graduation present from her parents.

  The chip wasn’t noticeable at all. It should have made Taylor feel more secure, but it didn’t. Until Renata’s killer was caught, Taylor knew she was going to be nervous.

  Even Shane seemed on edge.

  He’d been very quiet all evening, which wasn’t like him. They usually spent their time talking, when they weren’t making love.

  He was sitting on the sofa near her. He seemed to be watching the program, but intuition told her something was wrong.

  “Shane, is something on your mind?” she asked him.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  His reflective gaze and serious tone set off an alarm bell.

  “Let’s turn off the television.” She clicked on the remote control.

  His gazed was so penetrating that it unnerved her even more.

  “I didn’t just happen to meet you. I’d seen your picture, and I wanted to meet you.”

  “My picture. Where did you see it?”

  A long moment of dead silence. He reached over to touch her shoulder the way he often did, but stopped and rested his hand on the back of the sofa.

  “Where did you see my picture?” she repeated.

  “Paul Ashton showed it to me.”

  He knew Paul and hadn’t told her. Why? she wondered, her mind awhirl, considering the possibilities.

  “When did you meet Paul?”

  “I met him in Colombia.”

  “Before he disappeared.”

  Shane hesitated. “Taylor, he didn’t disappear. Paul Ashton is alive and living in Costa Rica.”

  “No.” The word came out a garbled, choking sound.

  “It’s true.”

  A white-hot prickling sensation shot from the base of her neck downward. No! This could not be true.

  “What? I don’t believe you. I hired detectives. They couldn’t find a trace of him.”

  “By then he was already in Costa Rica.”

  “No,” she cried out, a tortured sound like an animal caught in a trap.

  She jumped up, nearly tripping over Auggie, and rushed over to the window. Unseeing, she gazed out at the shadowy courtyard. A swirling, nauseating kaleidoscope of pain, relief, shock, and anger besieged her. She dragged in a breath and held it, trying to regain her self-control.

  It took a few minutes before the gut-wrenching shock subsided into something calmer but no less profound. Auggie stood beside her, licking her hand.

  She sat down again, pulled her legs up, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her chin on her knees. “Why didn’t he let me know he was alive? I was so worried.”

  Shane remained silent.

  “He didn’t love me, did he?” she heard herself ask.

  He put his arm around her. “Baby, I know this is hard on you.”

  She shoved him away. “Don’t ‘baby’ me. I want to know everything.”

  “All right. I was working undercover in Bogotá. I met Paul through one of the cartel leaders. He was posing as a photographer, but he was actually a member of one of the drug cartels.”

  His words detonated on impact just as if he’d physically hit her. She wanted to scream No! but his words had the ring of truth to them.

  “I can’t tell you all the details of the operation, but we busted it. Paul had valuable information. So instead of bringing him back here and prosecuting
him, they let him off if he promised to stay out of the country. The government often makes deals like that to break up a cartel.”

  “He could have called me … or something.” A remnant of pride resurfaced and morphed into anger.

  “He should have. I would have.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “Not exactly. Someone else escorted him to Costa Rica.”

  “But you could find out where he is, right?”

  “I guess. Why?”

  “I want to talk to him to tell him what a jerk he is.”

  “He’s worse than a jerk. I don’t think you want to talk to him. He’s the one using your Web site to traffic drugs. He’s back in business again.”

  “Oh, God.” She clutched her stomach and rocked back and forth, silently cursing herself. “I did it. The codes were in my desk in our apartment. I told him what they were for, and he must have copied them.”

  “I suspect he’s been using your Web site for years,” Shane said. “I should have guessed it was him, but someone is supposed to be monitoring him.”

  “It looks like he fooled his handlers.” The way he fooled me, she silently added.

  “We need to be careful not to tip him off. He’ll slip out of Costa Rica and into some other South American country where it will be hard to find him. He should stand trial here.”

  “I want to talk to him.”

  “Okay, but you’ll need to wait until this operation is busted. I don’t think the DIA will handle it, because the money isn’t going to terrorists, but I’m going to call them anyway. They can refer it to whomever they want.”

  “Will there be agents crawling all over the office?”

  “Nope. One may come by to interview you, but they can access the Web site from where they are. They’ll have Ashton arrested in Costa Rica, then extradited. You can speak to him in person.”

  What do you say to someone you loved—honestly loved—who turned out to be a heartless jerk and a criminal to boot?

  Why hadn’t she seen it? She was smart and successful, not the kind of woman who was easily taken in by a man.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Paul? Why did you wait so long? Couldn’t you have told me sooner? Why hide it?” She fired the salvo of questions at him like bullets.

  “I don’t blame you for being angry. I should have told you, but I was afraid you’d rush off to Costa Rica to find him.”

  She raised her chin a notch, silently daring him to make her anger go away.

  “I had no idea he was using your Web site until I saw the decoded material. He’s using a few of his old contacts. That’s what tipped me. I remembered what you’d said about keeping the codes in your desk at home. Then it all made sense.”

  “Were you ever going to tell me you knew him?”

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t. I started to tell you a dozen times. I didn’t want to lose you.”

  Shane lay awake, staring at the pattern the moonlight made on the ceiling of his bedroom. Taylor was on the far side of his bed. Between them it was no-man’s-land. She hadn’t wanted him to touch her.

  He couldn’t blame her. She might never fully trust a man again.

  Never trust him.

  The hell of it was, he’d cushioned the blow as best he could. The bastard hadn’t loved her. He’d deliberately used her and bragged about it.

  Not only was Ashton a scumbag and a crook, he was a nutcase. Yeah, he could be charming, especially around women, but there was something ‘off’ about the son of a bitch.

  Shane had argued with the brass not to let Ashton go, but they wouldn’t listen. Now they’d be forced to deal with another of Ashton’s drug networks.

  When Ashton had told Shane about Taylor, it had been with a laugh. He collected women and had a stunningly beautiful girlfriend in Bogotá. No doubt he’d found another babe in Costa Rica.

  Shane hadn’t laughed. In the photograph there had been something in Taylor’s eyes that had tugged at his heart. He’d found himself thinking about her all the time.

  He hadn’t expected to fall in love with her, but he had.

  “Are you asleep?” he whispered.

  “No.”

  “I just want you to understand one thing. I love you. I’ll never do anything to hurt you.”

  She didn’t say a word.

  Chapter 29

  After letting Auggie out to relieve himself, Taylor gave the dog a quick pat. “I’ll be right back to feed you.”

  She left Shane sleeping and slipped out of his apartment. She’d hardly slept at all. She wasn’t the type to be angry for long, but she was furious with herself, with Shane.

  And most of all with Paul Ashton.

  She unlocked the back door to her apartment. The place smelled like the inside of an ashtray. She hoped the outfit she’d come to get didn’t reek of smoke.

  In her bedroom, she meant to go straight to the closet, but stopped and opened the drawer where she’d kept her pictures of Paul. She didn’t bother looking at them. Instead, she ripped them into a dozen pieces and flushed them down the toilet.

  It was a childish thing to do, she silently conceded, but it made her feel better. The jerk had vanished, and she’d searched for him, so frightened and heartsick she’d barely been able to function. The malaise had lasted nearly two years, threatening her health, her career.

  All the while, he was living it up on drug money—made by using her Web site—in Costa Rica.

  “Don’t dwell on the past,” she said out loud. “Get even.”

  The clothes in the closet did smell of smoke. Some fabrics absorbed the odor more than others. The moss green Dana Buchman suit she planned to wear wasn’t too bad.

  Not too good either. A spritz of Febreze and a dash of perfume should fix the problem.

  While she was in the closet, she made a pile of clothes to be taken to the dry cleaner to get rid of the smoky smell. She’d made one run after the fire-bombing. It was time for another trip. At this rate, her cleaning bill would rival the national debt.

  She was leaving the bedroom when the telephone on the dresser rang. Staring at it, she wondered who would be calling this early.

  Unless something had happened to her mother.

  She rushed over and grabbed the receiver. “Hello.”

  “Mornin’, darling.”

  She dropped the clothes on the floor and sank down on the bed. It had been two years since she’d heard his voice.

  Paul Ashton.

  The jerk. The drug dealer.

  Calm down, cautioned her inner voice. Don’t tell him off. Let the authorities catch him. Seeing him in prison will be the best revenge.

  Don’t let on you know he has been tampering with the Web site.

  “Did you miss me, Taylor? I sure missed you.”

  “Oh, my God! P-paul, is it really you?”

  The quaver in her voice was real. She was so furious with this man that she could barely grind out the words, but she hoped he would mistake it for heartfelt emotion.

  “I thought you were dead.”

  “No, sweetheart. They tried, but it takes a lot to kill me.”

  “You were being held captive?” she asked, all innocence.

  “Something like that.”

  “Where are you?” The connection was too clear to be Costa Rica.

  “Right here in Miami.”

  Uh-oh. What was he up to?

  “What’s going on? I’ve been worried sick.”

  “I know, darling. I’m really sorry, but I’ve been through hell, believe me. This is the first chance I’ve had to contact you.”

  “Why? What’s happening?”

  “It’s very complicated. I need to explain it to you in person.”

  He sounded so sincere she was almost fooled. “All right. When?”

  “Meet me at Brew Ha-Ha in, say, fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  Paul hadn’t changed. Not one bit.

  He still expected her to drop everything
for him. She remembered how she used to worry about him and his phony career. She’d even downplayed her own success so he would feel better about himself.

  Well, she’d been dumber than dirt. He was handsome, charismatic but without substance. Her mind flashed to Caleb. Another charmer without depth.

  The opposite of Shane Donovan.

  “Let’s see Paul try to talk his way out of this,” she said out loud.

  She was wearing shorts and a Marlins T-shirt. Later she would come back and get ready for work. Combing her hair, she decided against makeup—not even mascara.

  Who cared what Paul thought?

  She wasn’t wasting any time trying to look pretty for him. She grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the drawer. Even this early the Miami sun would be brutal.

  It was a short walk to Brew Ha-Ha. She didn’t go back to Shane’s apartment for her purse. If he was awake, he would want to know where she was going, and he would insist on coming with her.

  This was private and personal. She needed to hear what Paul had to say.

  Alone.

  As she was leaving the courtyard, she ran headlong into Trent. One look at her brother, and she knew he’d been crying.

  Raoul.

  What had the creep done now?

  “I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice brittle with emotion.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He stared at her for a moment, then said, “Raoul’s marrying Fallon.”

  “The companion you hired for him to keep him off drugs?”

  “Turns out her father is Rupert James.”

  “The media tycoon who lives in Boca Raton?”

  “You got it. Fallon’s loaded and in love with Raoul. He left with her last night.”

  “That’s awfully fast, isn’t it?”

  Trent shrugged. “I asked Raoul to move in with me the first week I met him.”

  Taylor knew she should feel sorry for Trent and say something sympathetic. The words wouldn’t come. It might hurt now, but Trent would eventually find the right person.

  Raoul was not the one.

  “I guess Raoul’s bisexual, isn’t he?”

  “Yes. I knew it from the very beginning, but I thought he cared enough about me to become my partner. I wanted someone I could spend my life with, someone who’d let me be myself. I thought I’d found that person.”