To the Limit

by Virginia Kelly

"It's really very simple. Vargas can't catch Mark, so he gets you to come to San Mateo in the hopes that if he has you, Mark will come out of hiding. Those are his men going through the town back there."

  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 the Rover, see if they have anything in there. A bag, anything like that." He directed Mary Beth to the Jeep and nodded at two of the soldiers, who moved toward Nick, still on the ground, illuminated by the Jeep's headlights.

  Then she saw him move. He mouthed a single word: fall.

  Her decision on whether to trust him was instinctive.

  As she dived for the dirt, shots rang out. The two soldiers who were approaching Nick fell to the ground and didn't move. The soldier named Wyatt froze, his rifle still down at his side.

  "Drop it," Nick ordered from the ground, his pistol aimed at Smith.

  Smith did.

  "Tell your man to drop his rifle," Nick said.

  "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.

  "Both of you turn around and start walking," Nick ordered. "Go get the doctor."

  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."

  He should have killed him. Instead he'd used his fist to bloody Smith's nose and knock him out, forcing the animal named Wyatt to carry him.

  "I thought you were unconscious," Mary Beth said as Nick cranked the engine of Smith's Jeep. They'd transferred their bags from the Rover to the Jeep. Jean would take care of the wounded.

  "He didn't connect as well as he thought he had." He'd managed to duck just in time; otherwise that animal—

  "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 thought about how much to tell her. Maybe it was time to divulge a bit more. It might make her feel safer. "I was a sharpshooter 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's worst traits?

  He'd wanted to shoot Smith and his men, had wanted to do something that would show them they couldn't touch what was his.

  But she wasn't.

  Nick turned the headlights off and pulled out, guiding the Jeep down the road a few hundred yards, then off, over the rough highlands terrain. Instinct would have to be his guide. They couldn't afford to have the Rangers find them. Smith was out of the picture, at least temporarily. They had to reach the Rio Hermoso Valley to get their answers. To keep his promise.

  "They're mercenaries, aren't they, Smith's men?" Mary Beth said.

  "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. "I want to stop Vargas from regaining power."

  "And you think chasing after Mark will do that?"

  "Vargas is hiding something in this investigation. 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. "It's revenge for what happened to your cousin."

  "It's necessity," 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 give Mark 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.

  If only he could meet his own.

  Nick rolled down the Jeep's window. Two hours out it became obvious they were on the eastern slopes of the Andes. It was warmer and muggy. Rain clouds hovered on the horizon. By the time they reached the four-thousand-foot level, it would probably be raining. The narrow pass that had closed the road earlier in the week 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 Rio Hermoso.

  Their luck held out. The pass was clear. No one paid them any attention.

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

  When they got back into the Jeep, Nick winced as 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 find it hard to 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. 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 Mark. If only he could figure out why. "I wish we had the papers we found in Mark's safety deposit box."

  "They're in my bag," Mary Beth replied. "I've looked at the numbers and compared them to some bills I have with me. The total numbers and letters match." She reached down to the bag she'd moved from the Rover 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 stopped the car and removed the papers from the plastic, careful not to drop anything. The first thing he saw was the stiff, folded copy of Mark Williams's will. Opening the folder, he scanned the single page. Whatever Mark had, he left to his sister. It surprised Nick that such a young man would even think of making a will, much less have one. Did Williams have some reason to think he might die? Nick noted the date of the document. Three years ago.

  He put the will aside, and looked at the carbon and its scrawled dates. What were Mark 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. It's worth a lot." She looked at him. "If you're implying that Mark's into counterfeiting because he needs the money, you're wrong."

  He understood how she felt. Loyalty to a brother.

  "Did your cousin need it?" she asked.

  "No. There
's plenty of money. Daniel is—was—a Romero, too. Besides that, the old man has done well for himself. Daniel's salary wasn't much, but—" He stopped. He knew he was trying to convince himself. "Daniel didn't need the money."

  "If neither of them needed the money, then it's something else. Maybe gunrunning, as Smith said."

  "We're back to money if it is. Daniel didn't need the money to be made in 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."

  Nick didn't answer or look at her. By now, the chances of finding Mark Williams alive, with so many people after him, were fading. 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 one road. 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. Ways she wouldn't like, not if the rain kept coming down.

  "Then we'll have to use one of those other ways," she said.

  Nick tensed. He knew what those other ways meant.

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

  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 what faith she had placed in him. She might have come with him this far, trusting him to protect her, 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. There had never been any happily-ever-afters in his life.

  But God knows 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 Dona 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, he carefully opened the Jeep door and got out.

  And walked into the shaded darkness of the misty forest.

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  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 back to Trujillo and find a telephone. She could call for help. She just didn't know who to call. The ambassador to San Mateo was one choice, but if he'd approved Smith's methods, she'd only be giving herself up to him.

  Her father was the better choice. Asking him to again 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 safety 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 out of the will. After folding them and the carbon, she ripped the plastic bag to make a small piece, wrapped the paper and carbon 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 unusual shadows. She couldn't shake the sense of doom her dream had given her. And despite every cautionary warning she'd offered herself, she couldn't believe Nick had really left her here.

  Hunger, exhaustion and plain fright gave way to tears. She never cried. Never. Yet she wanted nothing more than to let the sobs engulf her.

  Then she heard it.

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

  Then another rustling of vegetation.

  Desperate, 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. The sob she'd been fighting froze in her throat. Leaning against the rough bark, she 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 swiped furiously at the tears she'd shed. Because of a man. Because of him. Because she'd thought he had left her alone to cope with finding Mark.

  Then anger took over. Anger at herself for trusting him, for so easily depending on him. That anger pushed away the tears and brought her back under control. She grasped it as if it were a life raft.

  She could do this. She could deal with him, with the way he made her feel, until they found Mark. 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 from her resolution.

  "Here I am," she said, stepping into the open.

  She saw it then in an instant, in the light-speckled forest. The steel-nerved diplomat momentarily let down his guard and she saw what could only be described 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 this get to her. Wouldn't let emotions she was reading into his actions affect her. "Yes," she said.

  He turned away, saying, "Let's eat, then."

  They ate cold bread, cheese and jerky, washing it all down with bottled water. Nick cut up oranges. With Nick's pocket-knife as their only utensil, they were forced to eat with their fingers. Mary Beth tried to keep the juice from dripping onto her clothes.

  He smiled at her efforts. "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."

  She licked her lips. "And I am?"

  "You try too hard."

  "This is all too easy for you." She reached out 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 pushed aside 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 emotion
s 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."

  But she got to him once more. Those light, whiskey-colored eyes focused on him with deep intensity. "I won't be left behind," she said.

  So that was it. She thought he'd left her. This woman who had seen the truth of his relationship to Alex and Laura 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.

  "Look out," he warned, reaching toward her.

  Nick grabbed the slice just as it fell, catching it 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 somewhere between his heart and the overwhelming pull of desire. She parted her lips, accepting his offering, her breath warm, her teeth white against his fingertips.

  She would taste of oranges and passion. Of everything he'd ever wanted. Everything he'd ever dreamed of. Bravery, honor and loyalty.

  "I'll clean all of this up," she said, her voice rasping over his senses.

  Nick saw her pull away, both physically and emotionally. She'd done the right thing. He knew she had. Because if he had kissed her, he wouldn't have stopped.

  Mary Beth, nerves stretched beyond endurance, sat in the Jeep as Nick drove through the pouring rain with what appeared to be concentrated desperation. He'd been unfailingly polite. She'd been unfailingly silent. She could think of nothing to say.

  She felt she knew him, understood him, yet there was this barrier, a barrier he'd established. Not just a physical one, but one that kept everything about him at a distance. One that would forever make her wary of him, wondering what other secrets he kept.