“I know.” The sympathy in his words made her throat tighten. “But worrying about it isn’t going to make the time pass any more quickly. Why don’t I turn on one of the talk shows? I’ll bet you didn’t see much of those down in San Rafael.”
“All right.” Slowly, trying to control the shaking of her hand, she poured cream into her coffee. “I’ll be right out.”
Two hours later she laid Ana in her bassinet for a nap and wandered into the third bedroom, looking for a book. She’d found the television talk shows annoying and too loud, and had turned them off abruptly when she’d found herself longing again for the peace and simplicity of Santa Ysabel. Looking over the books stacked in the bookshelf, she selected a mystery and headed down the stairs. Tim looked up and smiled as she sat down.
“That’s a good one. I think you’ll enjoy it,” he said, nodding at the book in her hand.
She forced herself to smile back at him. “I hope so.”
By the next evening she felt like a captive tiger, pacing back and forth in her cage, desperate for a way out. There hadn’t been a word from Caine, although the phone had rung several times and Tim had held long, whispered conversations. When she’d asked him what they were about, he’d smiled and told her they were just routine checks.
Even Ana had been cranky today, and Lexie had breathed a sigh of relief when she’d finally fallen asleep an hour earlier. The mystery she’d selected to read couldn’t hold her attention, and neither could any of the programs on television. She longed with all her soul for Caine.
But apparently he didn’t feel the same way. It had been almost forty-eight hours since he’d left her at this house—the longest two days of her life. He still hadn’t called, and worry for him was beginning to coalesce into a thick lump of despair in her chest. He was perfectly capable of disappearing from her life without a word, especially if he’d decided that it would be the best thing he could do. And after what he’d told her in Limores, she was desperately afraid that was exactly what he’d decided.
She wandered into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. Tim still sat in the living room, reading a book. She turned around to ask him if he wanted some tea, but froze before she could get the words out.
As she watched, he dropped the book on the floor and stood in one fluid motion, pulling his gun out of his shoulder holster. He started for the door, but before he could get there it flew open and Lexie heard a muffled spitting sound.
She watched in horror as Tim slowly crumpled to the floor, bright red blood oozing from his chest. She must have cried out, because two figures stepped around his body and filled the doorway of the kitchen.
She didn’t recognize either of them, but from their appearance she knew they had to be from San Rafael. One of them pointed a gun at her. It had a long tube on the end of it, which she realized must be a silencer. Somehow the evidence of their planning terrified her even more than the gun.
“Don’t move,” the one holding the gun said in a guttural voice.
Lexie beat down the gurgle of hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble out of her throat. Didn’t they know she was incapable of moving a muscle right now?
“Where is it?” the other man asked.
She licked her dry lips. “Where’s what?” she managed to whisper.
“Don’t play games,” the first man warned. “You know what we’re looking for.”
Lexie’s hands clenched on the counter behind her. When a drawer began to open she jumped, then slid her hand inside. “I don’t know,” she insisted. If she played dumb, maybe she could buy some time. She couldn’t look at Tim, lying on the floor behind the two men, his life seeping out of him. Tim couldn’t afford any time, but it was all she had to bargain with for her and Ana’s lives.
“We know you took it with you.” The man with the gun spoke again, shifting restlessly. “Give it to us, and we will not hurt you.”
She saw the lie in his eyes even as he spoke, and fear paralyzed her again. Then she thought of Ana, asleep upstairs in the white basket, and she straightened. Speaking in a louder voice, to disguise the sound of her hand rummaging in the partially open drawer, she said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We only took food and clothes with us when we left Santa Ysabel. If you tell me what you want, maybe I can help you.”
The man holding the gun stepped closer, and she shrank back against the counter until the drawer cut into her fingers. “We want the pictures and the other information,” he hissed.
“Pictures? And other information?” She didn’t have to fake her confusion. “What information? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She tried to banish the image of the manila envelope from her mind, afraid they would somehow see the knowledge in her face.
The man swore at her in the language of San Rafael, his dialect a mixture of Spanish and Indian. She pretended not to understand.
“The pictures from your house, señorita,” he said through clenched teeth. “The ones you took with you before you left. And all the other information you collected for your father the spy, James Hollister.”
If she told him that Caine had the pictures, he would kill both her and Ana. She knew it with a cold-blooded certainty. So she shook her head and focused on the demands about her father. “You are mistaken. We left in a hurry and didn’t have time to take anything as sentimental as pictures. They are all still in my house in Santa Ysabel.” She lifted her chin. “And my father has nothing to do with this. He didn’t even know where I was.”
“Don’t lie to me!” he answered savagely. “Of course, your father sent you to Santa Ysabel to spy on El Cuchillo. He is a friend of the yellow dog who is our president, after all. The pictures you took are proof of his interference in our country. And don’t you think we searched your house from top to bottom?” His voice was scathing. “The pictures weren’t there.”
She couldn’t afford to think about her father. The pain and anger wouldn’t help her right now. She had to focus on the pictures, and convince these men she didn’t have them. “Then someone else must have taken my pictures, although they were only scenes from the village. My father had nothing to do with them.” Her hand closed around the handle of a knife, and she slowly pulled it from the drawer. Trying to distract the men, she nodded toward a corner of the kitchen. “There’s my backpack. I haven’t touched it since we got here the day before yesterday. Go ahead and check it if you want.”
“Toss it to me.”
She moved away from the counter and pretended to stumble. “I...I can’t.” She stared at him, letting all her fear show in her eyes. “I’m too scared.”
“Go search upstairs,” the man with the gun told his silent partner. “I’ll get the pack.”
“No!” Lexie cried, watching the other man turn away. “This is all I have, right here. There’s nothing upstairs.”
The man with the gun gave her an evil smile. “She’s very anxious for you not to go up there. Go see what she’s trying to hide.”
Nausea roiled in her stomach as the silent man turned and disappeared up the stairs. The man with the gun looked at her, then walked over to where her pack was propped against the wall. He threw all her dirty clothes and Ana’s clean diapers onto the floor, then turned to her. “They are not here.”
“I told you I don’t have them,” she said desperately. “I didn’t bring any pictures with me.”
At that moment the other man walked back into the kitchen. “Nothing upstairs but a baby.”
The man with the gun looked over at her and smiled again. “Bring the baby down here. Maybe we can think of a way to make her mother talk.”
“No!” Lexie pushed herself away from the counter and charged at him, slashing him with the knife in her hand. Both men stared at her, shock on their faces. The man with the gun looked stupidly down at his upper arm, where a line of red suddenly became a thick river of blood coursing down over his elbow and dripping onto the floor.
“Madre de Dios, she cut you.�
� The silent man spoke, staring at his partner.
The man with the gun turned slowly and looked at her. His black eyes glittered with pain and hatred. He tried to lift his gun with his injured arm, but it dangled helplessly in his hand. Cursing at her, he reached for it with his other hand.
Lexie leaped again, aiming the knife at his face and closing her eyes as she slashed at him. He was going to hurt Ana. The words drummed through her mind as she heard him grunt. If she didn’t stop him, he would hurt Ana.
Suddenly his hand pushed at her chest, shoving with all its might, and she stumbled backwards. Opening her eyes, she saw that the man with the gun wasn’t looking at her anymore. He’d transferred his gun into his other hand and was pointing it at Caine, who stood in the doorway. The silent man was nowhere in sight.
“Caine.” His name was torn out of her with a despairing cry, and she leaped again for the man with the gun.
“Lexie, stay back,” Caine shouted. She heard the muffled spitting sound of the silenced gun at the same time, and saw Caine dodge sideways. As the man turned toward her and raised his weapon, Caine came flying through the air and landed on top of him.
The struggle was silent and vicious. Lexie shifted the knife in her hand as she watched, helpless fear making her stomach chum. The two men were both moving too fast for her to be able to do anything. She was afraid that any move on her part would hurt Caine rather than his opponent, so all she could do was watch.
Both men suddenly froze. Caine had managed to wrest the gun away from the other man, and now he held it to his opponent’s head. The only sound in the kitchen was the harsh breathing of the two men.
Caine looked up at Lexie as he held the gun rock steady against the other man’s head. His eyes looked flat and deadly, and they made her shiver. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. He didn’t touch me.”
“How about Ana? Is she all right?”
Lexie paled. “I think so.”
Caine said, “Go check,” but she was already out of the room and running up the stairs. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that someone knelt on the floor next to Tim, and that the second killer lay spread-eagled on the floor of the hall. Bursting into her room, she rushed over to Ana in the bassinet. She didn’t look as though she’d moved since Lexie had laid her in the basket an eternity ago. Gently she turned the baby over, saw that she was still asleep, and breathed a prayer of thanks. Then she covered Ana again and closed the door behind her.
Returning to the kitchen, she said, “She’s fine.”
Caine glanced up at her from the floor, and some of the flatness disappeared from his eyes. “Thank God.” Then he looked back down at the helpless man on the floor, and Lexie saw his finger tighten on the gun. She watched, horrified, as Caine stared at him for what seemed like forever. Then, slowly, he lowered the gun and stood.
The next moment, two uniformed police officers stepped into the kitchen. “Get this one out of my sight,” Caine said. One of them clicked handcuffs on the injured man and the other read him his rights.
Caine looked over at her, then reached out and gently took the bloody knife from her hand and laid it on the counter. She hadn’t even realized she was still holding it. Slowly, he pulled her into his arms.
At his touch she shuddered, then closed her eyes as hot tears began rolling down her face and onto his chest. “Caine,” she whispered, burrowing deeper into his embrace and inhaling his scent, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“Shh, Lexie, it’s all over,” he soothed. “Don’t cry. We caught El Cuchillo in Limores this afternoon, and all his followers in this country besides these two. You’re safe now.”
Pushing out of his arms, she looked up at him. “I’m not crying because I’m scared, you idiot. I’m crying because I didn’t think you were ever going to come back for me and Ana.”
Something shifted in his eyes, and he looked away. “We found out all about El Cuchillo,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard her. “He was one of the men in your picture. His real name is Carlos Fuertes, and he’s nothing more than a sleazy drug dealer. He was originally from San Rafael, but he spent the last dozen or so years in the U.S. When things got too hot for him in this country, he went back to San Rafael and decided there might be more profit in running a country than in running drugs. He was so insistent about getting rid of Americans because he was afraid someone from his old life would recognize him and ruin the good thing he had going. And he was after you because he’d recently run into Pedro again. He didn’t remember the pictures you had of him until after he’d killed Pedro. Then he Apparently panicked. He knew who your father was, and thought he’d sent you to San Rafael to spy on him. That’s why he was so relentless. He figured you were leaving the country with evidence against him.”
“O’Roarke, have you ordered an ambulance for this man yet?” a voice barked from the hallway, and Lexie jumped away from Caine. It was her father’s voice.
Caine grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him as he answered, “It’s on its way.”
“Damn good thing. He’s not going to die, but he’s lost a lot of blood, and he needs—”
Her father had walked into the kitchen and stopped dead when he saw her. He paled, then looked accusingly at Caine.
“Why didn’t you tell me that my daughter was here, O’Roarke?”
“It wasn’t my news to tell.”
“Dammit, you let her get involved in this. She could have been killed. You had no right to bring her here.”
“Where would you have suggested I bring her?”
“You could have brought her to me. That’s where she lives, after all.”
Lexie squeezed Caine’s hand and stepped in front of him. “It’s not Caine’s fault, Daddy. This is where I wanted to come.” She drew a deep breath and felt the anger curl through her again. When would her father stop trying to manipulate her? “Why didn’t you tell me the president of San Rafael was a friend of yours?”
As James Hollister stared at her, she could see the hardness fade from his eyes, replaced by a longing that astonished her. “I knew if I did, you wouldn’t go to San Rafael. And I wanted to be able to keep track of you,” he said simply. “At least he was able to tell me you’d made it safely to Santa Ysabel. Are you all right?” When she nodded, he said, “I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”
As she watched him, she felt her anger slipping away. Suddenly, with the insight she’d gained since becoming a parent, she understood that he’d done what he thought was necessary to protect her. She might not agree with his methods, but she would always be his child and he would always worry about her. She took a step toward him. “I’ve missed you, too, Daddy.”
She realized with a sense of wonder that it was the truth. As she watched her father, she felt Caine’s hand on her shoulder. It was as if he gently pushed away a huge weight. Reaching up to cover Caine’s hand with her own, she knew that she would never be intimidated by her father again. He was trying to protect her, not control her, and she was strong enough to understand the difference. Caine and Ana had taught her that.
She truly had grown up in Santa Ysabel. Stepping away from Caine, she walked into her father’s embrace.
Her father’s arms tightened around her so fiercely that she could hardly breathe, then he loosened his grip and stood back. “You look good, sweetheart,” he said softly.
She gave him a tremulous smile. “Santa Ysabel was good for me,” she replied. “And I brought something back for you.”
When her father looked at her, she glanced over at Caine. He gave her a short nod and watched her with unreadable eyes. Slowly she looked back at her father. “I brought you back a granddaughter.”
He stared at her uncomprehendingly. “A what?”
“Caine and I have a daughter,” she said gently. “Your grandchild.”
“What?” He stared from one to the other, and slowly he smiled. Lexie watched, astonished. It
was the last reaction she’d expected.
“It’s about time the two of you saw the noses on your faces.” He looked at them again, and his smile broadened. “You can tell me all about it later. Right now I have some business to attend to.”
For a long time, Lexie stared at the place where her father had been, then she turned to Caine. “I had no idea it would be that simple.”
“Most things are, when you think about it.”
“What about us, Caine?” she asked, feeling her chest contract at the tightness in his eyes at her words. “Is that going to be just as simple?”
The pain she could see in his face tore at her. “I tried to keep it simple,” he whispered. “God knows, I tried. But I couldn’t leave without making sure you were safe.”
Grabbing his arms, she forced him to face her. “What do you mean? Where were you planning to go?”
“It’s best this way, Lexie,” he said, not answering her question. He didn’t meet her eyes. “You have every right to feel the way you do about me. I tricked you from the very beginning. I knew we would have to come back here all along, and I manipulated you into going along with me. I thought it would be easier for you if I just disappeared.”
“You have no idea what would be easy for me, or how I feel about you,” she said. “Instead of guessing, why don’t you just ask?”
“You made yourself pretty clear the other day, and you were right about all of it.”
“The last time I saw you I was scared and upset. I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean, and a lot of things that were just plain wrong. I know that, Caine, and I suspect you do, too.” Slowly she reached out and touched his face. “Ask me how I feel about you, Caine. Please.”
He grabbed her hand and held her away from him as he studied her. She saw a faint spark of hope in his eyes. “How do you feel about me, Lexie?” His voice was rough.
“I love you, Caine,” she whispered. “I think I have, all along. But before I went to San Rafael, I was too stubborn and spoiled to admit it. You wouldn’t change to become what I thought I wanted, and I was too immature to realize that I wanted you just the way you were.”
To Save His Child Page 26
