Desperado

by Diana Palmer

  His jaw clenched. “That was a low remark,” he replied.

  She shrugged. “You’ve already told me I’m not in the running unless I’m willing to jump into bed with you. There are women lined up, waiting. I get the point.” She smiled. “Lucky you!”

  He looked as if he wanted to bite off part of the wall. “That wasn’t the point!”

  “Good night, Cord.”

  He stepped out into the hall, but he turned almost at once. She’d fainted because he mentioned her past. She had hidden terrors because of it. And here he was, pressuring her, when he’d promised not to. It was frustration talking, not his heart.

  He stared down at her with regret eating at him. “I tell lies,” he muttered. “I make promises I don’t keep.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to go out with me, either, after the way I’ve behaved tonight. But keep your door locked, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He shrugged and started down the hall, both hands in his pockets.

  She stared after him. When he got to the elevator, she was still there, her eyes on him. He got in and started to push the button when he saw her. He hesitated, frowning, his stare intent. He moved, just a fraction, as if he thought about getting off the elevator and coming back, rushing back, to her.

  That thought was frightening. She wasn’t ready for it. She couldn’t bear another passionate embrace tonight, not after the things he’d already said.

  She moved back into her room and closed the door, hard, leaning back against it with her heart pounding.

  6

  Maggie slept fitfully for the rest of the weekend and was bleary-eyed and drowsy when she got into the office on Monday morning. She’d showered, and been embarrassed all over again when she looked in the mirror and saw a vivid red mark on her breast where it had been suckled. There were other faint marks, too, all evidence of a torrid interlude.

  Nobody could see the marks, of course. But the memory had kept her awake half the night with burning recollections of Cord in her arms, his kisses on her mouth. After years of futile dreams, the reality was such a shock that she could barely believe it. Above all, he’d been cold sober, and he certainly hadn’t hurt her. He’d been so tender that her body rippled all over just thinking about it. Even days before, despite her feelings for him, she couldn’t have imagined him like that. Her memories of his lovemaking were painful. But perhaps the new memories would be even worse. Cord was a wonderful lover. Now she knew what she was missing, and what she stood to lose if she really took a job out of the country.

  But what good would it do her to stay? Cord had been furious with her because she wanted to distance herself from him. It had been in self-defense. She had nothing to look forward to with him, despite his new attitude. He didn’t want to get married. She did. She’d lied about it to spare her pride, but she’d have loved being married to Cord, bearing his children. His children. The pain went through her like a knife. She finished getting dressed and refused to think any more about it.

  She had sessions with two clients, and fortunately, she was astute enough to convince them that she was alert and on-the-job.

  Kit invited her out to lunch, packing a camera.

  “What’s that for?” she asked.

  Kit grinned. “We’re having lunch at a restaurant right next door to the agency where this guy we’re investigating works,” she said. “I’m hoping to catch him with somebody, anybody, we can photograph. We still don’t know what his exact connections are, or to whom. It would give us a foot up if we could get a good photo of him with one or two of his cronies.”

  “What a great idea! Does your husband know what you’re up to?” Maggie added quickly.

  “No,” she said, and scowled. “And don’t you dare tell him. Logan is a battering ram with big feet and ears. He is not liberated. But this is my job and I’m doing it. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  “I can see us now, with your husband racing down the street, chasing us with a computer mouse.” She grinned. “But won’t it be fun?”

  “Fun, and beneficial, too,” Kit said smugly. “This guy needs to be stopped. Imagine little kids being bought and sold on the international job market. If anyone did that to Bryce, I’d turn him every which way but loose!”

  Maggie understood how the other woman felt.

  They ate at a steak restaurant next to an employment agency with a very nice storefront.

  “Are you sure that’s the one?” Maggie asked under her breath when they were past it. “Gosh, it’s elegant!”

  “Of course it is. That’s their cover. And not only in Texas. They have agencies in Florida and New York, as well,” Kit replied. “But Lassiter says the other agencies are legitimate, and just a front for this one. This JobFair is connected with a global corporation that deals in stolen children that they use for free labor to make profits, and Gruber’s controlling it somehow.”

  “What a sick world we live in,” Maggie remarked.

  They placed their orders and sipped coffee while they waited for it to be prepared.

  “Look, there they are!” Kit groaned, looking out the window. “They’ll get away before I can even get my camera out…!”

  “No, they won’t.” Maggie got up, weaving through the tables, and rushed outside. “Follow me with the camera, and hurry!”

  Two men, one short and balding, the other tall and dark-headed and tough-looking, were talking on the sidewalk in a language that sounded like Spanish.

  “Jake!” Maggie exclaimed, moving quickly toward the taller man with a huge smile. “How nice to see you again! I thought I recognized you…” She trailed off deliberately and assumed an embarrassed look. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I thought you were a business associate. Please, excuse me!”

  She turned and walked away quickly, hoping against hope that Kit had been quick. She went back into the restaurant, resisting the urge to turn around and see the mens’ reaction.

  Kit was grinning when Maggie got back to their table. “I got it! You brainy lady!” she exclaimed. “Lunch is on me!”

  “That was exhilarating,” Maggie replied breathlessly. “I think I may be a natural born detective. Do you know who they were?”

  “The short man is the one we’re investigating. His name is Alvarez Adams. But I think the tall one is the associate we’ve been trying to connect him with, the man who’s in charge of the African child trade—a man called Raoul Gruber. He works mainly out of Madrid, but he has close connections with JobFair, and we think he and Adams are joint partners with the global enterprise. It’s so chilling to think about. We’ve got contacts—well, Mr. Lassiter has contacts—in all the government agencies that deal with this sort of thing, and we’re feeding whatever we get right to them.”

  “I hope they can shut down the operation.”

  “So do we,” Kit said glumly. “But unless this man is Gruber, we don’t have much of a chance. Adams is so slippery that we don’t have a single thing on him. On the other hand, if he’s working with Gruber, there’s the connection and we’ve got a foundation to build on.”

  “Did they pay me much attention when I came back in?” Maggie asked, because something was niggling in the back of her mind about the man.

  “The tall one watched you all the way.” Kit confirmed her worst suspicions. “It was almost as if he recognized you. Isn’t that wild?”

  Maggie’s heart jumped. What if the man was the one who had tried to kill Cord? Hadn’t Cord said something about an employment agency connection? She had to know if it could be this one.

  But she didn’t say anything to Kit. There was no reason to make her boss’s wife feel bad, because Kit hadn’t asked her to do anything. It had been her own idea. Even now, she didn’t regret it. She felt as if she were doing something important, something worthwhile. Besides, she’d had a taste of the famous adrenaline rush. No wonder Cord wouldn’t quit what he did!

  She went through the rest of the day in a daze, certain that she didn’t want to spend the
rest of her life advising people on stocks. Maybe Mr. Lassiter could use another employee?

  But her foolhardy action weighed on her mind. She began to realize how dangerous Gruber might really be. If he knew who she was, and suspected that she was spying on him, things could get dangerous. So when she got back to her hotel, she phoned the ranch. Cord wasn’t there, but she left word for him to call her, and went into her small sitting room in her shorts and T-shirt, barefoot, to work on the latest account figures on her laptop computer.

  Two hours passed before she even realized it. The insistent buzz of the doorbell caught her attention. As she went to answer it, she realized that she hadn’t even thought about supper. She looked through the peephole, and there was Cord, in designer jeans and boots, a Western-cut shirt and bolo tie, with a Stetson slanted across his eyes.

  Surprised, because she’d only asked him to phone, she opened the door. He gave her a long, appreciative look before he walked in and let her close the door behind him.

  “I wanted to tell you…” she began.

  He bent, lifting her clear of the floor in his arms in midsentence, and kissed her hungrily.

  She forgot everything she was going to say. She let him kiss her, entranced by the soft delight of his lips on hers. He wasn’t demanding, insistent, even pushy. He was slow and delicately sensuous without anything blatant. She melted.

  He lifted his head and looked into her eyes with one eyebrow raised. “Yes? You wanted to tell me…?”

  She couldn’t get her breath, much less make her brain work. “You’re wearing a cowboy hat,” she pointed out.

  “I’m a cowboy. What did you want to tell me?”

  She laughed softly, embarrassed. “I can’t think.”

  “I’m flattered.” He pursed his lips. “Want me to do it again?”

  She swallowed. “Not right now.”

  He put her down gently. “That’s promising, at least,” he remarked. “What are you doing?”

  “Inputting data.” She gestured toward the computer, shaken by his actions. “I forgot the time.”

  “Obviously. Let’s dress you in something nice and go out to eat at this steak place I know,” he murmured, watching her.

  “We’re not dressing me,” she informed him.

  He sighed. “There goes dessert.” He frowned. “Not that I mind, but why did you call me?”

  She wiped her hair back with a nervous hand. “I was going to tell you about the man we saw at lunch, walking with Alvarez Adams,” she began.

  All the humor went out of him. He was suddenly deadly serious, and she had an unwelcome glimpse of the man he became when he worked as a mercenary. “How do you know Adams and where did you see him?”

  “Kit recognized him. Lassiter’s investigating him. We ate at a restaurant next to where he works, that JobFair employment place,” she continued, curious about the expression on Cord’s hard face. “There was a man with him, a tall and dark man with a scar across his mouth…”

  “Gruber!” he exclaimed. “He’s in Houston already? My God!”

  She paused without another word. The name was very familiar now.

  “Did he see you?” he persisted.

  “Well, I was trying to tell you, Kit wanted a photo of the men and they were about to leave, so I went outside and pretended to know the tall one, then admitted that I didn’t so Kit could get their picture. They didn’t know she got it,” she added quickly, because Cord looked frightening.

  “You little fool,” he said under his breath. “Raoul Gruber is the man who planted the bomb I found. He tried to kill me. He’s not stupid. He’ll know by now who you are and who you were with, which means you and your lunatic friend are both in danger!”

  “I should call Kit,” she began worriedly.

  “You should pack,” he said firmly. “You’re not staying here alone, not when Gruber knows who you are. By now he’ll know where you are, as well. Go and get your things together. Do it right now, Maggie. I’m not leaving without you. Kit is Logan Deverell’s wife, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “I’ll phone him when we get to the ranch,” he said. “Get packed. You’re checking out, right now.”

  She hesitated. She was being railroaded. She was a modern woman. She shouldn’t knuckle under like this. There were dozens of books written about men like Cord. She should have read one.

  “What are you waiting for, a bullet through the window?” he burst out when she stood where she was. “I’m not making conversation! This man stands to lose millions if he’s exposed. He’s killed children, for God’s sake! He won’t hesitate at one stubborn woman!”

  She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Now you just listen here a minute…!”

  He was too worried and exasperated for courtesy. He picked her up, threw her over one broad shoulder and went out the door. He closed it behind him while she raged at his back. He carried her down the hall to the amused looks of guests, and right into the elevator.

  “Cord!” she squealed, embarrassed to be in her shorts and in such a position. He shifted her into his arms.

  “There, there, darlin’,” he said gently, exchanging a warm look with an elderly couple that was riding down to the lobby with them. “She’s in the family way,” he confided, to Maggie’s horror. “I worry if she even walks.”

  “I know just how you feel,” the elderly man said, while Maggie glared and the elderly woman looked amused. “She—” he indicated his wife “—was working at a drugstore when she went into labor, and she wouldn’t go to the hospital because they were doing inventory and she was needed. She had the baby right on the floor in Health and Beauty Aids!”

  The elderly woman scoffed. “It was a baby, not a life-threatening event! Don’t you let him coddle you too much, dear,” she told Maggie gently. “Exercise is the best thing!”

  Maggie wanted to say something, but she didn’t get the chance. They were heading through the lobby as he called goodbye to their companions. A minute later, bare feet and all, she was sitting in the passenger seat of Cord’s truck.

  “I’ll go back for your clothes and your laptop,” he told her smugly.

  “You don’t have the key!” she muttered.

  He looked amused, despite the gravity of the situation. “How do you think I got into your room the morning after you came by the ranch?”

  “You lock-picker!”

  “Count on it,” he mused. “I’m a professional mercenary. I have all sorts of skills you don’t know about. Sit tight. I won’t be a minute.”

  She threw up her hands. Arguing got her nowhere. Now she was going to arrive at the ranch in shorts and no shoes, and everybody would stare. Well, let him explain her state of dishevel, she thought furiously! She hoped everybody stared!

  Minutes later, with her suitcase and other carryalls packed and thrown into the backseat, they were back at the ranch. Maggie, still self-conscious about her appearance, walked into a pretty bedroom behind Cord, who was carrying her luggage and her laptop. Fortunately, neither June nor anyone else was in sight.

  The room was done in pinks and blues, and had a canopied bed. “Wow,” she murmured. “Whoever decorated this cornered the lace market, huh?”

  He turned. “I decorated it,” he said.

  She was wondering for whom, because he’d bought the ranch after Patricia died.

  “Who likes French Provençal furniture and Priscilla curtains?” he asked with long-suffering patience.

  Her heart jumped. “I do,” she blurted out. “But…why would you decorate a room for me?”

  “Temporary insanity,” he muttered. “I’m having myself psychoanalyzed Friday.”

  She couldn’t stop looking at him. “You really did this—for me?” she stammered in helpless disbelief.

  He moved closer, taking her gently by the shoulders. “Why are you so surprised? I told you before, you’re an integral part of my life. I always assumed that you’d come here and spend the night eventua
lly, even if it was only for the occasional weekend.”

  “You never said that,” she replied sadly. “You never even hinted at it.”

  His fingers tightened and released on her shoulders. “It’s hard for me to let people close,” he confessed reluctantly, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I lost both parents, my wife, Amy…I don’t have a good track record with…affection.”

  He was going to say love, but he couldn’t get the word past his lips. She could understand. She’d been betrayed herself, by the people who should have put her welfare first. Trust didn’t come easily to either of them.

  She searched his eyes slowly, seeing the deep lines between his elegant eyebrows, the lines of stress between his nose and his mouth, the hard set of his lean face with its olive complexion.

  “I know how that feels,” she said slowly. “Except that people have left you because of circumstances they couldn’t control, even Patricia. In my life, the people who were closest to me have betrayed me.”

  “Who betrayed you?” he asked softly, discerning that she wanted to talk.

  “Just about everybody,” she said after a long moment. She winced, remembering Bart’s horrible act and its ultimate cost. Her eyes closed and opened. “I’ll never trust a man again.”

  “Can’t you tell me what happened?” he persisted, tilting her face up.

  She searched his eyes slowly. “It would be cruel,” she said absently, and then regretted the slip of the tongue when she saw his intelligent eyes flicker.

  The unexpected answer made him curious. “Cruel to me? Why? How?”

  She pulled away and moved to her suitcase. “I’m going to put on something else.”

  “What’s wrong with shorts?” he asked, diverted. “You’re home.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t ever wear shorts except when I’m alone.”

  He was watching her, alert, assessing. “Who molested you, Maggie?”

  She dropped the pair of jeans she was holding.

  He went to the door, closed it, and came back to her, turning her to face him. He forced her eyes up to his. “It was your stepfather, wasn’t it?”