by Nancy Gideon
His first attempt at speech was a low rasp. He wet his lips and tried again. “How long?”
“Going on day five. You’ve got a whopper of a concussion. It took some fancy string pulling to keep you out of the hospital. I knew you wouldn’t be able to stomach the food.”
“Thanks for that.”
Jack grinned. “You’re welcome.”
He gestured with his half-cast. “What’s the story here?”
“Not a happily-ever-after, I’m afraid. You managed to shatter about every bone in there. The doctor wouldn’t even hazzard a guess about recovery of use until after you finish a rather grueling bout of physical therapy.”
Zach took a slow breath before asking, “Bottom line?”
“You’ll have to find another line of work.”
He took a moment to absorb that, then looked to his friend. “Well, you don’t seem broken up by my misfortune.”
“Sometimes we need a wake-up call to tell us it’s time to move on. Well, it’s time, my friend.”
Zach sighed philosophically. His lack of resistance to the idea surprised him. Maybe it was the drugs. Maybe not. “I had a good run.”
“Yes, you did.”
Then his attention sharpened. “But I also had unfinished business.”
“She’s out in your greenhouse, so relax. We’ve got some talking to do before you see her.”
Warned by the somber nature of his friend’s reply, Zach refused to hear the news flat on his back like an invalid. He struggled to sit up, with Jack meeting him halfway with a bolster of pillows.
“So talk.”
“I had a buddy in forensics run that bloodstain on the blouse from the kidnapping and type the DNA from the piece of fabric found after the attack at the house.”
Zach couldn’t believe their luck. “And they matched?”
“No. Not quite.”
“Not quite? That’s like being almost pregnant. It either matches or it doesn’t.” He wasn’t in the mood for games. His head ached, making mental gymnastics a painful impossibility. If not for the wrapping on his hand, he might have considered strangling his friend.
“Unless they’re related.”
All thoughts of choking Jack Chaney fled.
“Who are we talking about?”
He listened to Jack lay it out on a time line. And it made sense. An awful, coldly calculating sense.
But how was he going to tell Toni?
After the tropical warmth in Mexico, February’s frigid greys held no welcome. But in Zach Russell’s rooftop garden, spring was already in flower. Even the weakest sunshine created warmth through the angled glass roof. The profusion of delicate orchids was a surprise but not the pungent utilitarian purpose of the majority of what was grown. Herbs, fresh and abundant, were everywhere, filling pots in the iron baker’s racks lining the walls, thriving in the raised central garden where a fountain gurgled a restful melody. Toni was content to just relax in the cushioned chaise and soak up the aromatic ambiance, or would have been if her thoughts weren’t focused inside the sprawling rooms, on the man recovering there.
The past few days had flown by in a blur of unexpected events. When Tomas arrived in answer to a call from his family’s humble home, it was with a military escort. She and Zach were whisked to an extremely well guarded airstrip where a flight awaited. The station was manned by a hard-featured multinational force who didn’t look receptive to questions. So she didn’t ask any. Once they were Stateside, Zach was wheeled into an emergency room and she was met during her agonizing wait by Jack Chaney. She was afraid she didn’t make a very good impression on him. He suggested, politely, that she go with him to Chicago. She told him, not so nicely, to go to hell. She wasn’t leaving Zach Russell’s side.
And so here she was, in Zach’s European home, in the world away from his work that he’d created as a respite from the ugliness of what he did. Being here filled in the rest of the blanks of what she knew of Zach. He was wealthy, he was cultured, he had a deep, nurturing side denied expression except in this verdant setting. He lived two separate lives, one of privilege and genteel intellectual pursuits and one of a dark and deadly nature that brought international intrigue hand-in-hand with death regularly to his door. He had a closet full of Italian suits and an opera collection. And enough weapons to arm a Third World coup.
Which one had she fallen in love with? The philanthropist or the warrior?
“That rather scraggly looking fellow over there makes a wonderful healing tea. I think we could both benefit from it, since we look as though we survived a small urban war.”
Delight in seeing Zach up and about conflicted with Toni’s sudden awareness of how she must look. She hadn’t had time to shop and her bloodstained clothing was beyond repair. Jack had found her a pair of Zach’s sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt. With her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail and her scratched face bereft of makeup, she could probably pass for a bag lady. Zach, on the other hand, oddly benefitted from the trials he’d endured. The stitches, the bruising, the bandages created a heroic aura about him. He’d earned the battle scars protecting her life and that knowledge stirred a heat deep in her belly that no herbal tea could rival.
“Should you be out of bed?” She couldn’t control the tug of anxiousness pulling at the edge of that question.
“Don’t concern yourself, love. I assure you that I feel worse than I look.”
His faint, lopsided smile had her emotions doing somersaults, then his next words knocked her completely off balance.
“You’ll be leaving for the airport with Jack in twenty minutes.” He put up his splinted hand to stave off the anticipated protests. “You have to go. A claim has already been made against the insurance policy you took out in the event of a kidnapping. If you don’t show up to throw a monkey wrench into the deal, my guess is your company will be in Premiero’s pocket by this time tomorrow.”
“How?”
“Your father has power of attorney, does he not?”
Toni fell silent, mulling over the circumstances that would naturally follow her disappearance. They’d assume the worst. They’d pay whomever demanded it of them and when she wasn’t returned, she’d be presumed dead. If she didn’t put a quick end to that rumor, there was a good chance someone would try to make the supposition into fact.
“Premiero’s plane touches down at O’Hare tomorrow at two. My guess is he’ll be on the way to your front door as soon as he clears customs.”
One thing had always bothered her and she spoke it now. “Why is he so set on this merger with Aletta? He has other investments worth far more.”
“It’s not the company. It’s his way into doing business legitimately in the States and widening his base abroad. And more than that, it’s personal. It’s the chance to control your father.”
“And he’d kill me to do that?” Her stark tone reflected her inner horror.
“These men don’t play by the rules of morality or honor. They play for stakes of pride and power. They’d sacrifice family, freedom, their fortunes, anything. And you still have what they want.”
“Well, it’s not theirs to fight over.”
“It will be if you’re not on that plane.” His voice softened. “Jack will take good care of you.”
Her panicked objections surged. He wasn’t going with them. “I don’t want Jack to take care of me. You’re the only one I trust.”
He made a helpless gesture with his shattered hand. “Sorry, darling. I’m not much good to you now.”
He was pushing her away, out of his life, out of his future. And she couldn’t let it happen. Not like this.
Toni went to where he was standing, a saving grace apart, just inside the doorway. He stiffened incrementally at her approach but she couldn’t let that matter.
“Zach, I’m sure Mr. Chaney is a good man. But it’s you I want.”
“You’ll have to take what you can get, Toni, and be satisfied. I can’t help you. I can’t even help myself.”
If that fact angered or frustrated him, he hid it well behind the flat tone and flatter expression.
She reached up to touch his battered cheek. He’d gone so still, she didn’t think he was breathing.
“I need you.”
He never so much as blinked at her impassioned plea. He caught her wrist gently, firmly, with his good hand and drew her arm down. His response was as coldly separating as a plasma cutter.
“No, you don’t. Not anymore. You’re strong enough to tackle anything, Toni. You proved that when you stood up to Premiero, when you faced down those abductors without flinching. You can handle your own future, love. You know you can. You don’t need me.”
“Maybe need was the wrong word.”
She kissed him. Fiercely, frantically, with open mouth and open heart, trying to force him by his own response to deny everything he’d just said to her. He allowed the exchange, even participated to a slight degree but when the fire failed to catch and his lips remained cool, she stood down and backed away. He regarded her through expressionless eyes.
“Rule Three,” he told her with heartbreaking simplicity. “Never get involved with the job.”
She returned his stoic stare so he’d never know how those words devastated her. “I just figured out that some rules are there for a reason.”
And she walked away from him without a goodbye.
An hour later, she was over the Atlantic, her face turned to the bulkhead pretending to sleep so Jack wouldn’t know she was crying.
They were seated in the living room, old friends, old nemeses. The thing that struck Toni the hardest was not the shock in her father’s face, but the fleeting instant of disappointment as he saw her standing there in Zach Russell’s shapeless clothing. Alive.
“I’m sorry. Am I interrupting something?”
Quickly recovering himself, Victor Castillo started to stand, his arms opening for an embrace.
“Antonia! You cannot imagine my surprise.”
“Oh, I think I can,” came her wry retort. “Please don’t get up. There’s no need.”
He dropped back into his chair, frowning at her disrespectful tone. Across from him, Premiero regarded her with the same black, indiscriminately ruthless eyes as those of the crocodile in the marina. She didn’t try to disguise the disdain in her voice or the dislike from her expression.
“You wasted no time hurrying to convey your condolences to my poor prematurely bereaved father.”
“You cannot know, dear Antonia, how happy I am to see that we were wrong.”
She smirked at his slickly delivered speech. “Oh, I’m sure. That’s why you just happen to have the paperwork for the Aletta merger with you, just in case my father could put aside his grief long enough to take care of some unfinished business. How rude of me to show up alive to ruin this touching moment.”
“Antonia, you are obviously too distressed by your recent ordeal to know what you are saying.”
“I am distressed, Father. Do you know why? Because you sit there with my mother’s company ready to do business with the man who would collect on my kidnapping insurance policy. And that you are more upset by my rudeness than your friend’s willingness to make a profit off my supposedly dead body.”
The fact that he didn’t try to deny it, that he didn’t even have the good grace to look embarrassed by it, cut Toni’s heart to shreds. This was the man she’d admired. That she’d tried so hard to please.
To Premiero, she said coldly, “Sorry you made the flight for nothing. Have a pleasant trip back.”
“Antonia,” Victor began in a tone that would allow no argument, “he’s not leaving until our business is concluded.”
“And what business is that? Extortion? Blackmail? What exactly, Father? What would mean more to you than your daughter’s life?” Her laugh was harsh. “Oh, I forgot. You don’t place much value there, do you? It’s always been about your fortune, the fortune you made off my mother and now think you can control through me.” Her tone hardened. “Think again.”
Victor took a deep, furious breath, his features reddening with insult and aggravation. “You will not speak to me with that tone. I am the man of this house and you will do what you are told. You will sign these papers because it’s what’s best for the family.”
“The family?” She laughed long and loud. “Since when has this been a loving family? If you wanted family, you could have had my affection and my loyalty. All you had to do was pay the price for it. Then I wouldn’t think of going against your wishes now. I never would have thought to doubt your intentions. But if you think you can hold my life so cheaply then demand my company, you are wrong and ten years too late.”
“You forget your place.”
“Like my mother used to?”
Victor’s glare was murderous. He chose to ignore her comparison. “If you dare discredit me and my word by breaking this deal, I will disown you.”
“There’s only one man I know whose word I would take at face value, and as for cutting me out of your heart and home, you did that a long time ago.”
Emotions churning, tears warring for release, Toni had to look away from the two heartless schemers. She stared out at the icy water of Lake Michigan and tried to draw strength from the sight of the relentless waves battering against a barricaded shore. That’s how she’d felt trying to win her father’s respect and devotion. No matter how long or how hard she pushed against it, she couldn’t wear down the barriers he built around him and his money.
She swiped at her eyes, refusing to display weakness now. In a moment she would walk out of the house she’d been raised in, away from the father she’d been taught to revere, from a heritage she’d been trained to uphold. All she had to do was find the inner strength to take that first step.
A glint on the snow-covered hillside near the caretaker’s summer cottage caught her eye. A reflection of some sort. She studied it for a moment, puzzled then suddenly shocked into immobility by the realization of what it was.
It was the flash from an assassin’s rifle scope.
She was pressing the panic button on her bracelet even before she remembered. There was no one to hear as she called for Zach Russell as glass exploded all around them.
Chapter 18
It was bitterly cold, but the wait was worthwhile as Antonia Castillo finally came into the high powered rifle’s cross hairs. Just a squeeze of the trigger and it would be done. Balance would again be restored to a plan set in motion ten years ago.
Finger tightening on the trigger, Veta Chavez allowed a small smile of satisfaction. It froze on her face as the unmistakable bore of a pistol barrel pressed beneath her ear.
“Moving wouldn’t be a good idea,” Zach Russell told her with a crisp factuality she didn’t doubt for an instant. She lowered the rifle and made her hands visible.
“Are you sure you want to do this to Toni?”
“Believe me,” Zach drawled. “I think she’d take the news of your betrayal better than a bullet to the brain.”
“You don’t know the whole of it.”
“Enough to know that all you had to do was continue to play the best friend. No one would have suspected you had any part in that kidnapping ten years ago. But your greed just couldn’t let it go.”
“Don’t you even want to know why?”
She was stalling for time but Zach couldn’t resist the bait. “Why?”
“He killed my mother. That car crash was no accident. He found out his wife was going to leave him and was afraid all her lovely money was going with her. My mother wasn’t even supposed to be in that car. She was driving because Mercedes Castillo was too upset to get behind the wheel. He killed my mother and I’m going to make sure everything that was once his is mine.” She turned slowly to bestow an icy smile upon him. “A family trait passed father to daughter. Now my father and I will have all that was once his and his daughter’s.”
“There’s one other piece of information you should know.”
Vet
a’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that?”
“Before you go blaming everything on Victor Castillo, you might want to consider who he paid to arrange for that accident. And you might want to ask him why the fact that your mother was in that car didn’t stop him from carrying out his plan.”
There was no flicker of expression to warn him of what she meant to do. She just reacted. She swung the rifle butt sharply upward so that it clipped his injured hand. A mind-blanking pain shut down his awareness of all but the beep from Toni’s bracelet. Just long enough for her to whirl and get off a single shot.
The sound echoed to Zach’s soul as he brought Veta Chavez down to her knees while speaking into his two-way.
“Jack, shot fired. Where are you?”
“Coming up behind you. Anyone hit?”
“I don’t know.”
That admission scored his heart like a hot knife as he looked up toward the shattered window of the Castillo home.
The first thing he saw was blood pooling on the hardwood floor.
One of the full-length windows had been blown out by the shot. Glass was everywhere. The bitter cold from off the lake intruded into the house. When he saw Angel Premiero collapsed back on his chair with his hand clasped to an oozing shoulder, Zach’s gush of relief plumed in the air.
Toni was standing off to the side, shock then relief filling her expression. She didn’t come to him, because just then Jack and Tomas marched a cuffed Veta Chavez into the living room.
“Veta?”
The woman laughed, a remorseless sound. Her features were a caricature of the companion Toni had known and loved so well. “So surprised. How are you going to lead an international company when you can’t tell friend from foe? It was going to be mine, Toni. My father promised.” Then she glared at Premiero. “But it would seem that you’re not the only one who’s been deceived by fancy words and false deeds.”
“Your father?” That came from a stunned Victor Castillo who stopped brushing shards of glass out of his hair long enough to cast an amazed look between father and daughter.
