by BJ James
"Wisely, Juan drove the ranch truck as far as he could. Then he switched to horseback when the terrain was impassable for the truck, saving time. Rick and I intercepted him at the last mesa. This was our first inkling of trouble, but we'll find the boy. I give you my word." With a tilt of her head, she met Juan's black gaze. "Both of you."
"You saw no one else?" Marissa asked.
"No, I'm sorry. All we have to go on is the note. But we'll find more." Though Valentina's words were infinitely gentle, they rang with assurance. "Juan and I rode ahead, Ethan came to take his shift and joined us along the way. Rick will be here shortly with Marta. Then we can pool our thoughts and make plans."
The last of Valentina's speech was lost in the jangle of the telephone in the bedroom. The room was eerily quiet. All eyes turned to Jefferson when he reappeared in the doorway.
"Simon," Valentina suggested. "And madder than hell.
"Simon." Jefferson acknowledged. "With an informant's tip and a warning that Menendez is on the move. Madder than hell that it's too late doesn't touch it."
"What's the word?" Ethan asked. "How did this happen? Who knew where Juan and Marta were?" His golden-brown eyes turned to Marissa. ‘‘How did he know he could get to you through the Elias?"
"For that matter, how did Menendez know Marissa is alive?'' Even worried for his son, Juan was concerned for her.
"Simon's sources report Rei's plane went down in a ravine, virtually intact. Rather than the sea," Jefferson explained. "Proving the theory it was shot down or sabotaged. Not a bomb. One of Menendez's suspected informants found the aircraft. He could've known for days Marissa wasn't on board."
"Which put him days ahead of Simon, giving him time to use Juan to find me. But how did he know about Juan at all?"
"There's a little girl on your family's estancia." Jefferson spoke directly to Marissa, dreading what he must tell her. "Her mother brought the girl to you for treatment at the same time Alejandro was ill. The little girl is missing the tip of a finger now. It would have been more if the mother hadn't talked."
"Maria. Her name is Maria. She was a playmate of Alejandro's," Juan supplied hoarsely. "If Menendez would mutilate a three-year-old girl, what will he do to my son?''
"Nothing," Valentina declared vehemently. "Because we're moving on it at first light. We're going to track this animal down and neutralize him before he knows what hit him."
"The note says he will contact us by noon. Instructing where to meet to exchange Marissa for Alejandro." Juan crumpled his hat in his hand, his face stark. ' 'If we make a misstep..."
‘‘We won't." Valentina snatched the note from the table. Crushing the paper in her fist, she tossed it aside.
Jefferson saw in her eyes that she knew Menendez would never let any of the Elias live. But there was one chance. ‘‘How do we know this is Menendez? Perhaps he sent his men, but didn't come himself. With Simon on his trail, it would be dangerous for him to enter the country at all."
"Menendez will be there." Ethan had said little. When he spoke, his rage was glacial and that much more ominous. "He likes to inflict his revenge in person. Marissa refused him. He won't tolerate refusal."
"You don't think he intends to let Alejandro go," Marissa spoke so softly her question was barely audible, "do you, Ethan?"
Ethan didn't respond at once. Silence sweeping through the room like a cold wind, was answer enough. After a time, he shrugged. "I wish I could tell you differently, but I've seen his handiwork too many times."
"Ethan's knowledge of Menendez is one reason he was assigned to this case. And why we're going to jump in first."
"How do we get that jump, sweet Valentine?" Rick Cahill drawled the fond name as he stood at the door with Marta by his side. In the tension, no one noticed their arrival. Now, with a word and a squeeze at her shoulder, he freed Marta's riveted concentration, sending her into Juan's arms.
"We have the edge in Ethan who knows how Menendez thinks. Added to it there's Billy Blackhawk's word that we have one of the best trackers in Arizona in Jefferson."
"Speaking of Billy, where is he?" Rick asked.
"He's on his way. Simon called him before he called here." Jefferson briefly caressed Marissa's shoulder. "He and his deputies will stay with Marta, and Juan, and Ma-rissa."
"I'm going with you," Marissa stated as a matter of fact. Her tone said implicitly she wouldn't be left behind.
Jefferson still tried. "Sweetheart, you can't."
"Yes, Jefferson I can. I will. Our best bet could be to negotiate with Menendez. Without me, what is there to negotiate?"
"No." He was adamant. "There must be another way."
"She's right, Jefferson." Valentina resolved the argument. "Don't underestimate your lady. She's done well so far. She'll do well in this."
Considering the matter settled, Valentina turned to other concerns. Addressing each with an assurance that left little doubt that she'd done this before. Jefferson remembered a comment Yancey had made. One of Simon's own—a lady sharpshooter, to be exact—rescued Patrick McCallum's daughter.
Yancey's words reverberated in his mind. Cold comfort now that the situation was real to him. But he looked at Valentina Courtenay with renewed respect, and with gratitude for setting retirement aside to come to Marissa's aid. "All right," he muttered but only to himself. For he knew Marissa's decision was irrevocable. Standing together they listened to Valentina's plan.
Keeping low to the ground, Jefferson dodged by the Elias's ranch buildings and fences, then disappeared into an outcropping of rock. He was dressed in leather the color of the land. His hat had been replaced by a band around his forehead to catch the sweat. His boots, set aside for quieter moccasins.
He blended so well with the terrain and moved so quietly, he stepped on the small mesa before anyone knew he had returned.
"Well?" Valentina wasted no time seeking his report. No one listened more intently as he described what he'd found. When he finished, she was silent, mulling over what he'd said. "You think there were only three of them?"
"Menendez and his two bodyguards," Ethan suggested. "He doesn't go anywhere without them."
"There were only three, and they were headed toward an old mine shaft on the far boundary of the property. Not many people know or remember it's there," Jefferson said grimly.
"Which would suggest Menendez had inside information." Valentina's gaze strafed over the men she worked with. "Any suggestions on the informant?" With an abrupt gesture, she set her question aside. "We can deal with that later. For now, Alejandro is our first priority. Marissa? If we need you?''
"I'm ready. For anything, for Alejandro."
"I expected as much." Turning a look at Jefferson, Valentina smiled and reminded him again, "She's your lady, and worthy of you. As you are of her."
Turning to Ethan and Rick, she said, "Let's get this guy. For Marissa's family. For Alejandro. For Simon. And for all the kids who might someday take drugs brought to this country by Menendez."
Jefferson wasn't wrong. Neither was Ethan. At more than two hours before the noon contact, Menendez and his two bodyguards were hunkered in the little shade provided by the rotten framework of the ancient shaft.
The heat would be horrendous. A fact that made Jefferson more fearful of Menendez. A man of his power had to be eaten alive by the bitter need for revenge to endure such conditions.
"Are you sure about this, Valentina?" he asked.
She was assembling her rifle. When she looked up, her steady gaze met Jefferson's. In that moment he knew he'd never seen a woman as cool, as calm. Until he looked at Marissa.
Valentina's confidence was contagious, and Marissa had absorbed her share. She understood her part in this, and what she must do. Jefferson didn't know he'd shivered until Valentina gripped his arm.
"Jefferson, doubt makes for mistakes. We can't afford either. If we don't believe this can be done, we shouldn't try at all. If one doubts, we all fail." Snapping the r
ifle case shut, taking up the weapon again, she looked at him. "What will it be?"
"We do this," Marissa answered. "There's no other way."
Jefferson wanted to keep her from the risk she would take. Instead he stood taut with worry.
"I love you, Jefferson." Not caring who heard, she stroked his face. "I want a life with you. A life free of worry, and most of all from guilt. I want babies like Alejandro. I want him to grow up with them. To be an older brother. None of that can be if we don't do this."
"You aren't afraid to do this, my love?"
"Yes. But I'm more afraid not to do it."
Jefferson nodded that he understood, because he couldn't speak the words. And he'd never loved her more.
Marissa's fingers slipped from his face to his hair. Drawing him down to her, she whispered against his lips. ' 'Kiss me for luck, and let's get this done."
With a groan, Jefferson drew her closer. His kiss was desperate, as if with the power of his love he could keep her safe. As harsh as it was, it was the sweetest kiss he'd ever known.
She stepped away, their hands clasped a second longer. "Whatever happens, take care of Alejandro. Promise me that."
"With my life." Because the child was more than Juan and Malra's son, because he was the embodiment of the child she lost, Jefferson vowed she wouldn't lose him again.
When he turned, Rick and Ethan were no longer on the mesa. He knew they'd gone to take up their post. Rigid and unmoving, he watched as Marissa climbed down to her assigned place.
Then there was only Valentina. Everything hinged on her.
"Make it count, Valentina."
"I intend to, Jefferson."
"You're pretty confident."
Her eyes held his. "There can be no doubt in what I do."
"Have you ever missed?"
Grief scored her face briefly, then was gone. "Once."
"Why?"
As before, her eyes met his. "A split second of doubt."
"What happened?"
"In my hesitation, the man I loved took a bullet."
"But you got the shooter."
"I got him."
"The man you loved, what happened?"
"He died, in my arms." There was pain in her voice. "I won't hesitate today, Jefferson. I won't miss. And nobody's going to die. At least, none of us."
She said no more, and too many agonizing minutes to count later, Jefferson was in place. Moving like a ghost, he sprawled in heated dust above the mine shaft. He could see no one. That Ethan and Rick were in place he had to trust to their expertise.
That Valentina could see what she must and could do what she must he trusted to God and Simon.
A child whimpered, a frightened, pitiful sound carrying over the expanse between the mesa and the mine shaft. Then Marissa appeared, calling Menendez's name, taunting him.
A tall, dark man stepped into the open with Alejandro in his arms. Vicente Menendez with a pistol at the boy's head.
Ethan called out from the side of the shaft as planned. Menendez began to shift instinctively toward him, then froze, suspecting a trap. In the second that followed, in sequences too rapid to register except after the fact, all hell broke loose.
A shadow, where no shadow should be, vaulted from a ledge toward Marissa. In tandem, a single shot reverberated through the stillness. A second that could have been its echo whined in ricochet after ricochet. Marissa falling beneath the shadow was the last thing Jefferson saw as he leapt into chaos.
As quickly as it began, the furor ended. The land was still again. The quiet broken only by a child's cry.
Ten
There was laughter in the ranch house of the Broken Spur. Laughter and celebration, for Juan and Marta Elias's son had been returned to them. Still a little clingy, a little frightened and confused, but unharmed and truly safe at last in his mother's arms.
A reason for celebration and laughter. But as he sat at the kitchen table with the others, a heavy weight bore down on Jefferson, sucking the laughter from him. Dampening the elation.
While the others talked, questioned, theorized, he sat solemnly, listening. A part of the team in body. Detached in mind.
Valentina's shot had been true, as she promised. And as she promised, none of them had died. Except Menendez.
His bodyguards had been disabled and by now were under arrest. For, on a signal from Valentina, the second phase of the plan had been set into motion. With Juan and Marta Elia no longer needing protection, Billy had left the ranch for the mine shaft.
Without the intimidation of their leader, Menendez's men were talking loud and long, telling however much about his singular operation anyone wanted to know. As a sheriff who had fought against drugs all his life, Billy wanted to hear chorus and verse of their revelations while memories of the price of Menendez's crimes was still vividly etched on their minds.
In the flush of success, no one thought past returning Alejandro to his mother. Which Marissa had done a while before. In that time, Alejandro had been bathed and redressed in clothing Marta had brought, to have something of Alejandro's with her.
Now, as the boy sat in Marta's lap stealing shy smiles at him, Jefferson knew their part had ended. Except for the explanations and the rehashing. Jefferson wasn't sure he wanted any part of revisiting all that happened at the shaft. Not when memories of Marissa falling and the whining scream of an endlessly ricocheting bullet ambushed his thoughts at every turn.
But as he heard the questions and saw the need to know written on Juan and Marta's faces, he knew reliving that awful time was inevitable. And as Valentina began to speak, he understood it was an exorcism of sorts for the parents.
"Juan, Marta, Marissa and Jefferson." Valentina looked at each of them before continuing. "Though bringing Alejandro home to you was our chief purpose, we've done more today than save a child. We've toppled what could have become the largest illegal drug operation in the country. We did it by taking a single man out of the equation. For Menendez was a one-man operation."
Jefferson was startled to hear Valentina speak the conclusions he'd drawn from watching Menendez in action, and from hearing the babble of his henchmen. Given her skill, her unique understanding of the people involved and of the situation, he could almost believe she had plucked his thoughts from his mind.
If she had, it wouldn't surprise him. Valentina Courtenay was an intuitive woman. From the time of Juan's arrival, once she heard his frantic revelation, she'd taken charge. Anticipating every move, down to the last detail. Even Marissa's part.
Marissa. He fought back a shudder as his gaze found her with Satan at her side. Satan, who had disobeyed him for the first time since he was a pup. Ignoring a command to stay at the ranch, trailing behind in hiding. With that rare sense of animals, becoming the shadow in the melee at the mine. Her shadow every minute since. As she stroked the Doberman, and in the celebration, the risk she'd taken was forgotten. But never by Jefferson.
Feeling the force of his stare, taking her hand from Satan and abandoning her regard of the Elia family together again, she met his gaze with luminous eyes. As her attention strayed over his features, carefully, cataloging his hurts, sensing his malaise, her expression grew tender.
Jefferson saw the tenderness, he saw the love, but his heart was too encased in ice to respond. If beauty was only in the eye of the beholder, in his eyes she was the most beautiful woman in the world. The first darkening of a long bruise reaching from her forehead, down her temple, to her cheek—a mark of her courage—made her more than beautiful.
Yet he couldn't return her smile. Even as he ached to touch her, he couldn't reach across the table to take her hand.
He could only replay the memory of his paralytic horror at the sound of the wild shot taken by one of Menendez's bodyguards.
Beyond that gut-wrenching moment of despair for Marissa, he had little memory of what he'd seen or done. His body became a mindless machine, doing what it must. He barely recalled that he'd
leapt into the midst of the ambush and in one continuous motion had snatched Alejandro from. Menendez. Even as the drug czar was collapsing against him, Jefferson wasn't aware of the blood.
It was only a nightmare, until Alejandro locked tiny arms around his neck and buried his tear-streaked face in his throat.
"How?" he asked when all seated at the table fell silent. "How did this happen? With Simon's care and his planning, aside from little Maria and her mother, how could Menendez find Juan and Marta? Who was the informant?
"This should have been foolproof." Suddenly furious, he pushed back his chair and stood, not caring that the chair banged against the wall, scarring the wood. "What damned good were all our precautions when Menendez saw through them like gauze?''
"Call it bad luck or fate, but what happened was the same thing that comes into play in most screw-ups," Valentina answered calmly. "We don't know what went wrong, Jefferson. But I suspect the one thing we can't control, a chance encounter. Perhaps something as innocent as an offhand remark to the wrong person at the wrong time."
"If it was a chance remark, what would it matter?" Marta asked, struggling with the reason behind what happened to her son.
"It matters," Valentina explained, "because of the ramifications. It can be like a stone thrown in a pond. The ripples that radiate from it can affect so many things."
Everyone was quiet. Perhaps thinking how this stone in this pond had changed lives as Valentina continued. "We've seen this sort of innocent mischance ruin covert operations before. We've seen it expose secrets."
Grimacing, she looked up at Jefferson. "We've questioned what we could have done differently each time."
“The answer, in the case of fate, chance, whatever you choose to call it," Marissa observed, directing her response to Jefferson's barely contained anger. "Is nothing."
"Marissa's right," Valentina agreed. "We could put a man from the Florida Keys in the wilds of Idaho, give him a new name, a new occupation, a new life where no one knew him. Then one day, one year, or ten years later, an old friend, an acquaintance, or a stranger who recognizes him could cross his path. And the danger he faced before will be as real as if the years in between had never happened."
