Laws of Attraction

by Diana Duncan

  Right, and which bridge would you like to purchase today, Mia?

  Rain-driven wind would’ve blown her across the yard if not for his steely arm anchoring her. Thunder clashed, ozone stung her nostrils, then lightning speared overhead. Mia flinched. “Yikes. I hope that’s not an omen!”

  “Makes two of us.”

  The maid who’d served dessert the afternoon Mia had fallen through the gazebo answered the doorbell. The woman cheerily waved them into the foyer. “Buenos días.”

  “Buenos días, Señora Garcia,” Dallas said in flawless Spanish. He inclined his head at Mia. “Ésta es mi esposa, Mia. Mia, this is Señora Rosa Garcia.”

  Mia extended her hand. “I’m afraid I don’t speak Spanish very well yet. I’m learning, though. Um, encantada de conocerte, Señora Garcia.”

  “I speak some English, also not very well. I, too, am pleased to meet you, Señora McQuade. I am to tell you Señor Montoya has been delayed.” The maid frowned. “Señorita Soledad and Señorita Isabel have not yet arrived down the stairs. You would like drinks served in the front room while you are waiting, sí?”

  “No thanks,” Dallas replied. “I have a few things to catch up on in my office, we’ll both wait there. Would you ring me when Señor Montoya is free, por favor?”

  “Sí, Señor McQuade.”

  Dallas ushered Mia through the enormous house and upstairs into his office, then closed the door. Lightning crackled and the power briefly flickered. She glanced around in interest. Montoya, or more likely his decorator, had done the room like the rest of the mansion in bold primary colors, primitive art and heavy dark furniture. So different from Dallas’ clean and simple personal style, she’d bet he hated it. “What do you suppose waylaid Esteban? From what I gather, he’s quite punctual.”

  “Hang on.” Dallas pulled a device that looked like a miniature walkie-talkie from his pocket and walked a slow circle around the room. “No bugs.”

  “Geez, careful is one thing, but paranoid much?”

  “It’s way too easy. Case in point …” He moved behind his desk, leaned down and booted up his laptop.

  She followed, observed from beside him. “Is that wise in an electrical storm?”

  “There are times when you gotta do what you gotta do, and damn the consequences.”

  “Yeah, I was born beneath that billboard, cowboy.”

  “It’ll be a minute, I need to run a quick system scan.” After a complicated series of pass-codes and scrolling data, which of course she couldn’t decipher, an image popped onto the screen: Esteban standing in what had to be his office … with Isabel.

  “Holy—” She whistled. “You tapped Montoya’s office?”

  “Not only his office.” He gave her a wry look. “I’m his chief of security. It’s my job to ensure his welfare at all times.”

  “But you didn’t tell him.”

  “That’d pretty much render the effort futile, wouldn’t it now?”

  “What if Esteban has one of those bug checking devices?”

  “He does.” Dallas grinned. “And I’m the one who operates it.”

  “Bugging your boss in his own home, with equipment he bought, while he’s also paying you a hefty salary. I have to give you credit, you’ve got gigantic clanging brass balls, McQuade.”

  He laughed. “Appreciate the award of confidence.”

  The power flickered again, wavering the screen before the image steadied. They both watched a grave Esteban issue an intense but quiet reprimand to his niece. “You are in charge of the main Limón factory. Why were you unaware of this discrepancy?”

  Isabel tossed her hair, dangling gold earrings brushing the gathered shoulders of her yellow halter dress—very expensive Vera Wang, unless Mia was mistaken. “Since our demand has exceeded supply, I am insane with trying to increase manufacturing and distribution. I do not have time to nit-pick over the finances.”

  “Isabel …” Esteban pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have discovered nearly a million dollars unaccounted for, from this first quarter’s shipment alone.”

  Isabel shrugged. “That is why you hired the Graysons, to arrange your books, no? Why do you not ask them?”

  “I did leave an urgent message for the senior Grayson. But until he returns my call—”

  A deafening blast of thunder rattled the walls as Dallas’ office door slammed inward, and Zane burst in. He snarled at Mia. “There you are!”

  Mia and Dallas both jumped. Dallas immediately killed the image on his computer.

  Mia’s heartbeat kicked and she stumbled backward. “Zane! I—”

  “Rosa said you were in here.” He advanced on her, his hair and jacket wet, brown gaze glittering. He had a bruise beneath one eye and a swollen bottom lip. “I ought to wring your neck, you little—”

  Dallas stepped between Mia and the furious bodyguard. “Careful. There’s a lady present.”

  Stunned, Mia stared at Dallas’s broad back. It was the first time anyone had ever put themselves between her and harm’s way.

  Zane barked out a snide laugh. “Lady, my ass! Do you know what she did to me?”

  “Judging by the way your face looks, and a few recent experiences of my own … I have a fairly good idea.”

  “She left me handcuffed to a crapper—for hours! She gagged me with my own fucking tie!”

  “I honestly had no other recourse.” Her ears rang and her limbs trembled with spiking adrenaline. But this was her mess to clean up. She tried to maneuver around Dallas to face her adversary. “I needed to get back to Portland.”

  Dallas’ forearm shot out, barricading her. “Stay put.” He frowned at Zane. “And you cool down.”

  “Cool down? She stole my wallet and my phone. And threw away my gun! Christ, my Beretta Storm .45—a seven-hundred dollar weapon—in the dumpster! I had to rummage through dick-deep garbage to find it!” Zane ground his teeth. “Do you have any idea what kind of disgusting shit they throw into airport dumpsters?”

  “There were extenuating circumstances,” she offered. “I am sorry, for everything.”

  “Sorry?” Zane’s fingers clenched into fists. “You can’t possibly be sorry enough.”

  Dallas’s glare lasered the other man. “You’re pushing it, Wolfe. When I gave you the assignment, I advised she was a handful and to keep a sharp eye on her. The operative word being sharp.”

  “A gang-banger is a handful. A strung-out meth-head is a handful.” Zane pressed his lips together, then winced. “She’s a category-five natural disaster.”

  “You can’t blame anyone but yourself for her escape,” Dallas said evenly. “You’re lucky she isn’t the type to shoot you with your own weapon, or you’d be pushing up daisies. I’ll make sure you get reimbursed for the money she took, and any damages.”

  “Damned straight you will.”

  “Heads up.” Dallas pulled Zane’s wallet and phone from his jacket and rapid-fired them to him. As Zane’s sure hands caught them, Dallas nodded toward the door. “The security log indicated no perimeter check has been performed since oh-five-hundred. I suggest you get some fresh air before you say or do something we’ll both regret.”

  Zane’s face mottled. He shoved his wallet and phone into his pocket, then stabbed his index finger at Mia. “We’re not finished.” With later stamped all over his enraged expression, he whirled and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

  How long had she been holding her breath? Mia gulped oxygen. Between Dallas’ earlier generosity, and now his unexpected staunch defense, the barricade around her heart was crumbling at a terrifying rate. “Why didn’t you let me talk to him? I’m the one who—”

  Dallas pivoted, glared at her. “That is a dangerous man, and he is seriously annoyed. From now on, keep out of his way.”

  “See? A talent for antagonism.” She pressed her lips together. “I probably shouldn’t count on help from his number in my cell directory.”

  “You think?”

  Wind howled around th
e house, making it shudder. “Um … what do you suppose that scene between Isabel and Esteban was about?”

  He strode to his desk, yanked open a drawer. Taking out a bottle of ibuprofen, he shook four into his palm and chewed them dry. “I have the distinct impression threads are unraveling at Casa Montoya.”

  “Is that good, or bad?”

  “Excellent for us. Not so hot for Esteban. He’s spooked, and might not be as cautious as usual.” Dallas’ desk phone buzzed. He stabbed a button. “McQuade.”

  “Señor McQuade,” Rosa said. “Señor Montoya is on his way to the dining room.”

  “Thank you, Rosa. We’ll be right down.” He rolled his neck. “All right. Let’s do brunch.”

  As Mia reached the office doorway, Dallas’ hand settled at the small of her back. The other reached around her to open the door. “My darlin’ bride …” He leaned close to her ear, and she could’ve sworn she heard reluctant amusement in his deep drawl. “Please try and restrain the urge to gag our host with his own tie.”

  “If he doesn’t try to handcuff me and haul me away, he’s in the clear.”

  Moments after they arrived downstairs in the elegant terracotta dining room, Isabel sashayed in on Carlos’ arm.

  Dallas watched the other woman’s disdainful glance rake Mia.

  “It is the unexpected wife.” Isabel’s lips slanted in a phony greeting. “And don’t you look like … a saccharine little dish of sorbet.”

  Dallas admired the hell out of the audacity in Mia’s bright, answering smile. “Such a sweet compliment. Dallas chose my ensemble. He has impeccable taste, in clothes, and spouses.”

  Before his little spitfire got inspired to break out the Taekwondo moves, he steered Mia away from a scowling Isabel toward the table. Although he wouldn’t blame her.

  He tugged out a chair for her at the rectangular table set for seven. Esteban hurried in with a crimson-suited Soledad on his arm. He pulled out his daughter’s chair at the far end before sliding into his place at the head. After Carlos seated Isabel directly across from Dallas, Carlos sat next to the petulant beauty, which put the swarthy bodyguard opposite Mia.

  “Please excuse my tardiness,” Esteban said, glancing at the empty chair to Soledad’s right. “Is Zane not joining us today?”

  Dallas cleared his throat. “Something came up that needed his attention.” Like a fat lip.

  “Where were you, Papa?” Soledad arranged a napkin over her skirt. She and her cousin looked enough alike to almost be twins, but were so very different. Soledad was definitely spoiled and immature, but didn’t display her cousin’s calculated cruelty.

  “Business, mi hija. It is never-ending.”

  “You spend far too many hours of the day overseeing minute details, when I could be helping so much more. I fear you will make yourself ill.”

  “Hard work is healthy for the soul, eh, Señor Dallas?”

  “Yep,” Dallas replied. “A principle I live by.” Especially when you were working 24/7 to neutralize your enemies.

  Thunder boomed, lightning sizzled, and the power went out.

  Over Isabel’s dramatic squeal, Esteban calmly requested a server to light the iron candelabra in the table’s center. “It seems we will be dining with atmosphere.”

  Yellow flames slanted Esteban’s distorted shadow across the plaster walls as he accepted a bowl of gallo pinto from one of three servers bustling in with trays laden with savory dishes. He scooped rice and black beans onto his plate, then passed the bowl to Isabel before nodding warmly at Mia. “And what work is it you do, Señora Mia?”

  “I …” Mia’s gaze dropped and she toyed with her fork. “I’m taking a leave of absence at the moment.”

  Isabel sniffed. “How marvelous to be privileged enough to loll around and let your husband support you. Of course, I would not know about such things.”

  Dallas covered Mia’s hand with his, surprised to find her delicate fingers icy. She appeared outwardly unruffled, but was obviously still stressed after the discussion in the car and hostile encounter with Zane. “Mia’s gonna set up our house and then stay home with the baby. It’s a Herculean task to raise children to be decent, caring and responsible human beings.”

  Mia sipped her water. “But of course, Isabel, you wouldn’t know about such things.” She let a brief pause tick past. “I mean, not having any children yet.”

  Isabel hesitated, clearly unsure whether or not she’d been insulted. Dallas’ lips twitched. The woman’s brainwaves washed up a little short of the beach. He didn’t need to toss Mia any life preservers. If Isabel kept tangling with his quick-witted wife, she’d drown.

  Esteban thanked the server who’d carried in pitchers of tomato juice cocktails. “A wise decision, Señor Dallas and Señora Mia. Being a good parent is difficult and requires mucho time and energy. Do you know yet whether you are having a boy or a girl?”

  “Nope,” Dallas said. “But girls run in the family.”

  “Daughters are a blessing.” Offering Soledad a fond smile, Esteban filled his tumbler with scarlet juice. “I do not know how I would have survived after losing my beloved Angelina if I had not had Soledad to love and care for.”

  Dallas winked at Mia. “Twins also run in the family.”

  Isabel’s pointed interest flicked to Mia’s loaded plate. “Oh, my. That does explain the appetite. And the waistline.”

  “Isabel!” Soledad gasped. “Mia, I apologize for my cousin’s thoughtless remarks.”

  “Why apologize for the truth?” Isabel trilled. “A woman can expect to get fat when she is expecting.”

  “Be careful you don’t burn your tender tongue on these.” Mia handed Isabel a platter of chorizo stuffed roasted jalapenos. “I’m not offended, Soledad. I have no problem with people speaking a piece of their minds. After all, Isabel doesn’t have a thing to lose by it.”

  Isabel flounced in her chair. “She is so right.”

  This time Dallas couldn’t restrain a grin.

  Mia shot him an impish grin in return that did funky things to his blood pressure.

  Esteban’s eyes narrowed at Isabel. “I do not tolerate discourtesy, especially at my table. If you are feeling ill-tempered, the servers will take your food to your room and you may finish your repast in solitude.”

  He turned to Mia. “You are muy gracious, Señora Mia. And you are welcome to enjoy your fill.”

  “The meal is excellent, Señor Esteban. We appreciate the food and the company, especially since it takes valuable time from your work.” Mia speared fresh pineapple slices and added them to her plate. She cut the fruit into dainty pieces. “I’d love to hear more about that. Your effort and dedication built one of the most successful recycling companies in the nation from the ground up, long before renewable resources came to the forefront. What inspired you, and how did you get started?”

  “You have done your homework, Señora Mia.”

  The power chose that instant to reappear, lights blazing. Esteban studied Mia in a long, considering look while Dallas took an uneasy swig of his cocktail. She’d hit the exact note to flatter Montoya’s ego without sounding fawning, and the question was natural. But would the drug lord take exception to her personal interest?

  “I’ve been following your company’s progress—and other similar success stories—for quite a while.” She granted the older man a sunny smile. “I admire entrepreneurial spirit.”

  “It has been a laborious journey, Señora. And I am afraid it bores my daughter to distraction to hear me repeat the tale.” Esteban’s cell phone buzzed from inside his sport coat. “Pardon me.” He read the screen, frowned. “I must answer this.” Rising, he hurried out.

  Mia’s glance snagged Dallas’ as unspoken communication flashed between them quicker than the lightning. They both suspected it was Harper Grayson returning Esteban’s call—regarding a missing million dollars. And with the electricity blipping in and out like a genie on crack, Dallas could only pray his surveillance equipment w
as functional.

  Mia pressed her napkin to her lips. “I’m suddenly feeling queasy … darned morning sickness.” She scooted back her chair and stood. “Soledad, where’s the restroom?”

  “Oh, dear. It’s all the way down at the end of the hallway, and to the left.”

  Hell no, she wouldn’t! Dallas started to get up. “I’ll come with you.”

  Mia’s fingers on his shoulder pressed him back into his seat with a thump. “I’ll be fine. You stay and entertain the ladies.”

  He fired a warning glare at her. “Mia—”

  “This isn’t an activity I need accompaniment for, honey. Stay.”

  At the doorway, she turned back and blew him a saucy kiss.

  Dallas watched the sweet sway of his wife’s curvy ass as she sauntered out moments behind Esteban, and rubbed the odd ache beneath his breastbone.

  He. Was. So. Screwed.

  He couldn’t do a damned thing but there sit with his fists clenched. If she got caught where she didn’t belong, she’d blow the whole operation. His gut roiled like he had morning sickness.

  And she’d get herself killed.

  “Do not worry, Dallas,” Soledad soothed. “I’ve heard such occurrences are common in pregnancy. Your wife is quite normal.”

  If only you knew.

  Dallas’s blood pressure spiked from a far less pleasant cause as he tried to carry on innocuous conversation with the women and cryptic Carlos—while preparing to have to draw his gun any moment.

  Thunder, lightning and rain whipped the trees outside the huge bay window into a frenzy. Ten minutes dragged by slower than ten hours.

  He couldn’t eat. Could barely swallow his water. Sweat beaded on his upper lip, trickled down his spine.

  Fifteen minutes.

  Where was she?

  Twenty minutes.

  When Rosa arrived with silver pots of hot, aromatic coffee and a gooey tres leches cake, he could no longer sit still. He shoved to his feet and paced to the window.

  “Dallas?” Soledad’s voice from behind him made him start. “Do you wish for me to check if she is all right?”

  God no. “Ah … I think she wants privacy.”