Fearless

by Diana Palmer

  ACTUALLY GLORY WAS having more health problems by the day. But she hid it well. Fortunately she had nausea at night, rather than in the morning. She had a pretty good idea about what was causing her sudden illness, and it tormented her. She couldn’t possibly have the child. She was living a lie. Rodrigo wasn’t even in her own social class, and he might be a criminal. He might be the killer Fuentes had hired to put Glory out of his way. She remembered a comment her doctor had made some time ago, about her high blood pressure. Some women, he said, were fortunate enough to have their blood pressure go down when they were pregnant. But Glory’s put her at high risk for a pregnancy. He said that her career was risk enough, without the addition of pregnancy. She’d assured him that she never wanted a child.

  But now that had changed. She was fascinated with the reality of a child growing inside her. She’d been alone most of her life. The Pendletons were kind to her, but they weren’t her family. The child would be of her own blood.

  That was the most worrying thought of all. Her mother had been mentally ill, she was certain of it. Some behavioral abnormalities could be passed down from parent to child. What if the baby wasn’t normal?

  “What is making you so worried?” Consuelo asked one morning when Glory arrived in the kitchen with dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep.

  “Worried?” Glory thought fast. “Well, it’s not exactly worry…” She poured herself some coffee and refused food. “Rodrigo hardly speaks to me lately.”

  “Ah.” Consuelo smiled. “So that’s it.”

  “He seemed to like me at first,” Glory replied. “But lately he avoids me.”

  “Yes, he does.” She paused. “And you are in love with him.”

  Glory couldn’t help the sudden radiance in her face, the brilliance in her eyes behind the rounded frames of her glasses.

  “I thought so,” Consuelo murmured. “I could see it when you danced with him, at the fiesta. He likes you very much, but he thinks he is still in love with the pretty blonde woman. He is conflicted.”

  That brought Glory back down to earth. “I look a little like her, don’t I?” she asked, sticking the knife in her own heart.

  Consuelo grimaced.

  Glory nodded. “That’s what I thought, too. I remind him of her, but I’m not married to someone else.”

  “That may be true.” She studied Glory curiously. “But on the other hand, perhaps he is beginning to feel something for you and he doesn’t like it.”

  Glory sighed. “I guess that could be true, as well,” she agreed.

  CASTILLO WAS LEANING against the back door later when Glory had to go out to the warehouse for more peaches. She was wearing a pretty white sundress embroidered with yellow sunflowers. It had puffy sleeves and a full skirt. Her hair was in its usual braid. She looked young and fresh. It had been extremely hot in the kitchen and the air-conditioning unit wasn’t coping well with the blazing heat. She rarely ever wore very feminine clothes. Consuelo had loaned her the dress. Thick jeans were just too hot in that kitchen.

  “You know, you’re not bad looking,” he remarked with open lust in his small, close-spaced eyes. “I could go for you.”

  Glory wasn’t afraid of him. Not when she knew Rodrigo was nearby, at least. She turned and looked at him without blinking. “I’m not in the market for a boyfriend, Mr. Castillo,” she said flatly.

  “Honey, every woman wants a man,” he drawled, moving deliberately closer to her. “Even if she doesn’t know it.”

  She backed up a step.

  He only laughed. “That’s it. I like a woman who pretends she isn’t interested. Go ahead and fight me, niña. It makes it more exciting.”

  He reached out and caught the front of her sundress with his forefinger, tugging it down so that the swell of her breasts was visible. She felt sick all over.

  Before she could react and slap his hand away, she saw Castillo’s expression suddenly change just before he went flying backward onto the ground.

  Rodrigo stepped past Glory, his furious eyes on the downed man. He cursed him in Spanish and challenged him to get up and fight like a man. For a man who seemed to be calm and laid-back most of the time, Rodrigo looked amazingly dangerous now. Even Glory took a step backward when she saw his tall body tense.

  Castillo fingered his bruised jaw. He was trying to hide it, but he was afraid of the taller man. Ramirez had moved like lightning. Castillo hadn’t even seen the attack coming, and he was used to fights. He flushed as he dragged himself to his feet. “Lo siento,” he told Rodrigo. “I didn’t know she was yours.”

  “You know now,” Rodrigo bit off. His voice was very soft, but the tone was chilling. “Leave her alone.”

  “Sure. Sure!”

  Castillo moved away without another glance at Glory.

  She was trying to catch her breath and not succeeding very well. She looked up at Rodrigo curiously. His eyes were still filling with anger. His fists were clenched at his side as he turned to her.

  “Thank you,” she began.

  “If you don’t want unwelcome company, dress like a working woman, not like a debutante strolling in a rose garden,” he said bluntly. His tone was crisp. Furious.

  She gaped at him. “I’m wearing a sundress! It isn’t even suggestive…!”

  “You wear blouses and slacks or jeans on the job here,” he interrupted. “I have better things to do with my days than protecting you from other men!”

  “Buster, if I had a blunt object right now, you’d need protecting from me!” she shot back at him. “It’s hot in the kitchen and the air-conditioning isn’t working today! We called the repairman, but he hasn’t come yet. So Consuelo loaned me one of her dresses, because I don’t have any! Anyway, I’m not wearing baggy pants and an overcoat in my kitchen just because your men can’t control their own lustful urges!”

  He stepped in closer, so that she could feel the heat and power of his body next to hers. “You are getting even because I avoid you,” he accused.

  Her eyebrows arched. “You’re avoiding me? Really? I’m sorry. I didn’t notice!”

  A dusky patch overlaid his high cheekbones. His eyes were black with fury. The words wounded him, and he struck back. “Do you think you were an experience no man could forget?” he asked, lowering his voice so that only she could hear him. His eyes were ice-cold. “An inexperienced, frightened innocent who didn’t even know how to respond to a man’s ardor?”

  The insult hit home, and she couldn’t hide it.

  That seemed to make him even madder. “What are you doing out here in the first place?”

  “We need another bushel of peaches to finish out this batch.”

  “I’ll send Angel up with them. Anything else?”

  “No, thank you.” Her tone was as cold as her pride. She turned and went back into the house without another word.

  HE WATCHED HER OVER the supper table. She had a small salad and a glass of iced tea, refused dessert and excused herself, all without meeting his eyes once.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Consuelo asked softly when she was out of the room. “Have the two of you had a fight?”

  “I don’t fight with employees,” he returned. “The truth is that she’s attracted to me and I find her unappealing. I grow weary of the heartsick looks she sends my way. She’s hardly the type of woman I would choose,” he added coldly. “She is uneducated and she has nothing to offer a man of experience. She has the naivete and the instincts of an adolescent. I felt sorry for her, and I was kind. She misinterpreted my compassion for affection. And,” he said, finishing his coffee, “let’s face it, she’s no man’s idea of an American beauty. Not with that long hair out of a fairy tale and those atrocious glasses she wears. No man would fall all over himself trying to seduce a woman so plain, who lacks even the most basic dress sense.”

  “You should not say such things about her,” Consuelo chided. “It would wound her to have you speak in such a manner.”

  “She will not know.
Unless you tell her,” he replied.

  “As if I would wish to hurt her. She is a good woman.”

  “Good women are boring,” he laughed. “I prefer mine wicked and overstimulated.”

  “Oh, you!”

  Glory turned away from the half-closed door and made her way back down the hall, tears streaming down her pale face.

  She didn’t understand how Rodrigo could be so cruel after the long, sweet interlude in her bed. She’d given in without a fight. She’d responded wholeheartedly. But she was a novice, and he liked experience. She felt cheap. Used. Unwanted. She’d come down here to save her life, but her heart was being killed. Somehow, the threat of Fuentes’s revenge wasn’t half so painful as Rodrigo calling her plain and saying he didn’t want her. He considered her uneducated—she, who’d graduated with honors from law school!

  It was worse, somehow, because she was almost certainly pregnant. She didn’t dare tell him now, not after what she’d overheard. She had to get Fuentes back into court and convicted so that she could stop living a lie. She wanted her old life back. She never wanted to see Rodrigo again as long as she lived!

  But what about the hit man? Who would Fuentes have sent? Could it be Castillo or Marco? Could it even be Rodrigo?

  She frowned as she came back to her original worry. What if Rodrigo was mixed up with Fuentes, or the killer? After all, he’d only been in Jacobsville for a little while and nobody knew very much about him. He’d hired Castillo, who was a crook of the first order. He and Castillo vanished every Wednesday. Rodrigo had ties to Mexico. He had a cousin who worked in the drug smuggling world. And the Rodrigo who’d confronted Castillo on the porch had been a man she didn’t know, a dangerous man obviously used to settling problems with his fists. He could be violent. Castillo had been afraid of him. Rodrigo could be the hit man, or one of the bosses involved in drug smuggling.

  She almost groaned aloud. Her life had been so simple when she was helping convict gang members and drug dealers back in San Antonio. Why hadn’t Marquez left her where she was safe? At least she’d have been sure that Marquez would keep an eye on her. Down here, she had to hope that Cash Grier was telling the truth when he said he had somebody watching out for her.

  She felt sick when she realized how reckless she’d been. What if her office had to prosecute Rodrigo? How would she cope with that? He’d have a great comeback—he could tell the court just how involved she’d been with him. It would damage her credibility, maybe enough to get Fuentes an acquittal. Life, she thought, was not fair.

  GLORY WAS CURIOUS ABOUT where Rodrigo went with Castillo on those Wednesday jaunts. She caught a ride into town with Angel Martinez. She didn’t want anyone to see her car parked in front of Barbara’s Café, which was where she went as soon as Angel deposited her on the square. There, she phoned Marquez and told him about this new development.

  “You should tell Grier,” he replied.

  “I did. Now I’m a mushroom.”

  He laughed. “They keep you in the dark and feed you bull…”

  “Never mind,” she interrupted pristinely. “Why don’t you drive down here and we can tail Rodrigo and Castillo and see where they go?”

  “Why should I take you along?”

  “Because I’m going to be the one prosecuting the case, that’s why.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that. When do they usually leave?”

  “About five in the afternoon.”

  “And how are you going to get away from Consuelo long enough to ride around with me?”

  “She leaves just before five every Wednesday to go to church,” she said smugly. “And she takes her son with her.”

  There was an odd pause. “She does?”

  “Yes. Isn’t it curious that he’d voluntarily set foot in a church without being put in a casket first?” she returned, tongue-in-cheek.

  “Maybe he walks in the front door of the church and out the back door,” he mused.

  “Who knows? Are you coming?”

  “I’ll pick you up at five. If anyone asks, we’re on a hot date.”

  “In that case, I’ll wear something conspicuous.”

  “Better make it something that will blend in,” he countered. “You don’t track people wearing flamboyant clothes.”

  “So much for the hot date,” she murmured.

  He laughed. “This isn’t the time.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “See you.”

  “Yes.”

  Barbara came up to her, frowning. “What’s going on?”

  Glory, who knew her, only grinned. “I’m luring your son to my house with promises of lurid wickedness.”

  “Hallelujah!” Barbara exclaimed. “If ever a child needed a push into seamy luridness, it’s my straitlaced, puritanical son!”

  “Well, it’s not really that seamy,” she confided in a whisper. “We’re going tracking.”

  “Deer?” Barbara exclaimed, stunned.

  “Not deer. Drug dealers.”

  The amused look went into eclipse. “That’s dangerous territory. You should let him do that on his own.”

  “I can’t. I’m up to my neck in this case already.”

  “Somebody should take Fuentes for a walk in the woods and push him down an abandoned well!”

  Glory gaped at her. “You bloodthirsty cook!”

  “Count on it! I hate drug dealers.”

  “So do I,” Glory replied. “Especially Fuentes. He’s more dangerous than Manuel Lopez or Cara Dominguez ever dreamed of being. He needs to go away for years and years, with no hope of parole.”

  “After which we can round up his smuggling ring and put them away, too.”

  “Exactly what I think. But first, we have to have evidence that will stand up in court.”

  “Spoilsport,” Barbara chided.

  “Yes, well, I’m an officer of the court,” she reminded her. “I have to abide by the rules, even when I don’t like them.”

  “Rick will help you get the evidence,” she said.

  Glory smiled. “I know he will. He’s really very good at his job. But don’t tell him I said so.”

  “I won’t breathe a word.”

  “Thanks.”

  “If you ever need help, and you can’t call anyone directly from the house, call me and order a sweet potato pie. I’ll call Cash Grier, or Rick if he’s down here, and get him right over there.”

  “Have you ever thought of becoming a secret agent?” Glory queried.

  “All my life. But it’s more fun thinking about it than doing it. At least, I think it is.”

  “You’re probably right.” She glanced out the door to the statue of old John Jacobs, the founder of Jacobsville, where the ranch pickup with Angel at the wheel stood waiting. “There’s my ride. I have to go.”

  “What’s wrong with your car?” Barbara asked.

  “It’s the same one I drive at home,” she replied quietly. “I keep it in the shed on the farm. I thought someone might recognize it.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Oh, I could go into the secret agent business myself, after this,” Glory said, and she wasn’t really teasing. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Wait!” Barbara drew her to the counter, produced a sweet potato pie, bagged it and handed it to Glory. “Your cover,” she said, “in case anybody wanted to know why you came in here.”

  “I’ll see if I can find you a trenchcoat,” Glory chuckled. She hugged Barbara. “Thanks.”

  “I’m not being altruistic. I want you to marry my son and give me lots of grandchildren,” Barbara chuckled.

  The mention of babies made Glory uneasy.

  Barbara grimaced. “Sorry. I’m really sorry, that was uncalled for…”

  “Don’t be silly,” Glory replied. “I’m not offended. Rick is a dish. But I have high blood pressure and I don’t know if I can have a child. You see, there’s never been any reason for me to ask a doctor about having children.”

 
Barbara was noticing things that Glory wasn’t aware of. The owner of a public café learned a lot about body language from observation. “Lou Coltrain is one of our best doctors, and she’s still keeping secrets from grammar school. If you ever wanted to talk to a doctor in confidence, Lou would be your woman.”

  Glory frowned. “Why would you suggest such a thing?”

  “Honey, it’s a small town,” she said gently. “You were dancing with that dishy manager on the farm, and from what we heard, it was so steamy between the two of you that people were dragging out fans.”

  Glory flushed. “Oh.”

  “You should remember how it is around here,” Barbara continued softly. “We all know each other’s business. But it’s because we care about each other. You had it rough as a child, but you’ve turned into a fine, responsible woman. Your father would be so proud of you, Glory.”

  Tears stung the younger woman’s eyes. She wasn’t used to kindness. Not this sort, anyway.

  Barbara nudged her toward the door. “Go home before you have me in tears, too. And if you want to seduce Rick, I’ll loan you a hot red negligee.”

  Glory’s eyebrows arched. “What would you be doing with a hot red negligee?”

  “Hoping for an opportunity to wear it,” Barbara chuckled.

  Glory laughed back. The woman was truly a kind person.

  “You be careful,” Barbara added gently, as she went to put up the Open sign for the lunch crowd. “These guys play for keeps.”

  “I noticed. Thanks again.”

  “Any time.”

  GLORY DELIBERATELY IGNORED Rodrigo at lunch, talking to Consuelo about her recipe for apple butter.

  He felt bad about what he’d said to her, but she’d asked for it. She had a sharp tongue and she didn’t bend. He wondered how she’d managed to fit into a temporary agency back in San Antonio with that attitude. It was as if she felt she had to be more aggressive because of her handicap. Not that the limp slowed her down. She worked as hard as Consuelo and never complained. She was as conscientious an employee as he’d ever known, and despite the physical abuse of her traumatic past, she didn’t back down from the threat of a man. Castillo had been out of line.