“Oh it won’t, huh?” Serge teased as he stood leaning against a seatback. “I’m crushed.”
Diego forgot that Alex was on his lap and jumped to his feet, toppling her to the floor. When he bent to help her up she yanked his arm hard enough to pull him down beside her and they both began to laugh hysterically to relieve their tension.
“I see nothing’s changed,” Serge muttered. His shoe squished with each step as he tried to limp around them.
“What’s that sound? Why are you limping?” Diego was already on his feet when he spotted the source of the odd sound and the color drained from his face.
“You’re bleeding! What happened?”
“It’s nothing, just a flesh wound. It bled into my shoe like a son of a bitch, but I think it’s okay now.”
“How did you get shot? Who did it? You told me everything went fine and that you were on your way to London. What happened?”
“I got careless, ignored my gut. So I took a bullet...not the first time,” he said as if this were an everyday occurrence. “I’m not sure who the shooter was, but he was screaming about Jamie so best guess is it was Duncan Buchanan, the guy with the safe house. Lucky for me the bastard’s a lousy shot and drives a piece of shit car. Bullet grazed my ankle before I got the Rover’s door closed. The rental people will be pissed.”
“Lean on me,” Diego snapped as he gripped Serge around the waist and helped him into a seat.
“Stop pushing me around, I’m fine,” Serge protested.
“I can see how fine you are bleeding all over the place. Take off your shoe. Alex, get the pilot. He can decide whether we need to call an ambulance.”
“I’m not going to any hospital with a gunshot wound. You’re smart enough to know what would happen if I did.”
“I do,” Diego agreed. “Fortunately, my father hired a pilot who was a medic in the Gulf War.”
Wound cleaned, closed with butterfly strips and bandaged, Serge allowed Diego and Alex to fuss over him as he reclined in a seat, sipping a third medicinal vodka as the plane sat on the runway, waiting to be cleared for take off.
He’d been through a lot worse and was no stranger to stressful situations, but Alex and Diego weren’t. They’d been under intense pressure and had handled it better than he thought they would, so if Alex felt better spoon feeding him and Diego couldn’t stop glancing at the bandage to assure himself the wound was closed, he’d go along with it. But he’d be damned if he’d let them put him to bed in the aft cabin like some invalid.
“If you won’t use the bed, I will,” Alex finally mumbled in between yawns after Serge’s third and final refusal. ”I’m so tired I can’t think.”
The moment the door to the aft cabin closed, Diego moved closer to Serge. “What the hell happened?“ He’d always believed that his bodyguard was invincible, an iron man, and because he’d risked his life on Diego’s orders, he blamed himself for his friend’s injury.
“I told you, everything went off as planned. No one can survive a fall into the sea from the height of those cliffs. Especially when they’re unconscious. He’s dead. I’m sure of it.”
“I know that already! Tell me how you got shot!”
“It was a stupid mistake. It’s always a stupid mistake.” Serge described the incident in the car park and his misguided assumption that the approaching vehicle was a police car. “It was pitch black, but when the driver started screaming about Jamie, I knew it had to be Buchanan since that was where Mackinnon had sent his grandson.”
“How did he even know to look for you? There’s no way that they could have found out that we discovered where the son of a bitch was hiding. And if it was Buchanan who followed you to the cliffs, why didn’t he use his gun to stop you before Mackinnon went into the sea? I don’t get it.”
“Neither did I. On the drive down to London I went over everything that happened from the moment I left Inverness. I analyzed every detail over and over and over. It was a good distraction from the pain.”
“And?”
“And I came up with nothing solid, just theories. Want my best guess?”
Diego nodded.
“We know that Michael Graham didn’t find me when he went to the hotel and that had to have made him suspicious. Don’t forget he was sure I’d lied about you and Alex. He’s a smart guy, so it wouldn’t be a stretch for him to figure out that I wasn’t who I said I was. Now, because Buchanan saw me at the cliffs, they know it for sure. Graham must have warned the others and Buchanan came looking for Jamie to ship him off to another safe house. We’ll probably never know for sure.” Serge cursed under his breath and smashed his fist into the arm of the chair. “I hate loose ends. They always come back to bite you in the ass.”
“Let me think about this for a minute.” Diego got up to pace, then sat opposite Serge and leaned toward him. “You said you got the tapes to MI-5 and they planned to arrest all of them this morning, right?”
Serge nodded.
“You said Michael Graham might have been worried enough to warn everyone and even order them to disappear. When the cops come to arrest the bastards, are they going to find them gone?” Diego’s eyes narrowed and his face reddened as the potential repercussions of this theory hit home.
“It’s possible,” replied Serge. “Give me a minute to check,” he said as he punched numbers into a satellite phone.
Diego listened and watched Serge’s face, trying to read his expression until he ended the call.
“It’s mostly good.”
“Mostly? What does that mean? Tell me exactly what they told you before I wring it out of you,” Diego snapped as the anger, guilt and worry that coursed through his body erupted. “Did they get them or not?”
“They got four them around dawn.”
“Four? Are you saying that one got away?”
“So it seems.”
“Stop being so fucking calm!” Diego exploded. “Was it Buchanan who got away?”
“No, they have him and he won’t shut up about a murder on the cliffs, but no one’s paying attention to him.”
“Then who…?”
“Michael Graham. He’s disappeared.”
“He’s gone? But they’ll find him, right? This is the British fucking secret service! How could they screw up and not bring him in? He was the brains of the thing.”
“For the reason you just said. He was smart enough to have a contingency plan. Don’t forget that he had a lead of several hours from the time he left the hotel until MI-5 broke down his door. If it were me, I’d have a disguise, cash, fake papers and small boat ready to take me to one of the islands or even Ireland. They may never find him.”
“Shit. So it’s not finished.” Diego scrubbed his face with his hands. “There’s still a threat to Alex.”
“Not just to Alex you idiot!” Serge bellowed. “You’re the one they’ll be after, not her!” He’d wanted to beat Diego senseless ever since he’d disobeyed explicit orders and went to Mackinnon’s store. “Why the hell did you shoot off your mouth about being a Cameron? And leaving the DNA report was really stupid. These people have long memories and aside from Graham still being out there somewhere, none of them will get a life sentence. Hell, they may not even be convicted. This eye for an eye thing could go on indefinitely like some chess game, especially once they tie us to what was done last night. So I can’t say that either of you is out of danger. But that’s why you keep me around.”
Diego lowered his head into his hands as he considered the ramifications of everything Serge had told him. “You’re right. I am a fucking moron. So there’s a chance...?” He was afraid to complete the question, but Serge understood.
“A remote one...but there is, yes.”
Diego nodded and sighed deeply. “Have some breakfast before that vodka eats a hole in your stomach and then get some rest.” He squeezed Serge’s shoulder, then turned and slowly walked to the aft cabin.
They were halfway across the Atlantic when Alex woke and became
aware of Diego sleeping next to her. His black hair was tousled and a two-day growth of stubble shadowed his face. There were dark circles under his eyes, the result of 24 hours without sleep. She was tempted to wake him, but decided to check on Serge instead. Her hand had just touched the aft cabin’s doorknob when she turned and saw Diego’s eyelids flutter as he changed position. Suddenly, she didn’t care if he needed to sleep. He could do that later, or tomorrow. Right now, they had to talk.
“You know, I was just thinking...” she began.
Diego knew that any time a woman began a sentence that way it usually meant trouble. He could pretend that he hadn’t heard her, but then she’d use some ploy to wake him, so he propped a pillow behind his head, crossed his arms and plunged. “Okay, I’ll bite. Is this about what Serge did last night?
“No, that’s not it. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’m really okay with that except that he got hurt doing it. I’m glad he’s okay.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you or did you wake me up so you’d have company?” he said irritably when she didn’t respond.
“I’m not sure what I want to say. It’s not about what happened. It’s about us,” she began.
“Us? What about us?”
She hand combed her hair, stalling for time. She wasn’t sure whether she was ready for this particular conversation. It might be better to drop it and just wait and see. She’d been so caught up in grief and adventure and her unexpected feelings for Diego that she hadn’t considered, until now, that life would return to whatever her new normal was once the plane landed in Boston. She could hang out with Francie, catch up with other friends, shop, cook, work out, do laundry — all the mundane activities of daily life that had stopped the instant she’d been told Will was dead. Or maybe she’d get a job, open a shop, take art lessons or even learn to tango.
She’d changed since her world had turned into an amusement park thrill ride. Without even realizing it, she no longer needed to plan for every eventuality, and, if things didn’t go right, long for a do-over. Events, combined with Diego’s impulsiveness and zest for life, had loosened her up.
“Well?” Diego snapped. Alex’s behavior wasn’t helping his foul mood. He was more shaken than he was ready to admit by Serge’s wound and the news about Graham’s escape. “If you’ve got nothing else to say I’m going back to sleep.”
“Okay, okay,” Alex grumbled, ending her self-analysis. “What I want to know is...when we get back to the States...then what?” She studied Diego’s face as he considered her question, but his expression gave nothing away. She was afraid that he would go back to partying in exotic places around the globe when he wasn’t busy running the Navarros’ various enterprises with his father. They’d always be great friends, she was sure of that, but she would also become one more name on the long list of his ex-lovers. Bloody hell.
“You want to know what happens next? I don’t have a crystal ball, but my guess is that life is going to be pretty boring for both of us after all of this excitement. But thank God that part is over.”
“Over? How can you say that? You told Mackinnon that you’re a Cameron! Aren’t you worried that they’ll decide to kill you or that his people will eventually retaliate for what we did?”
“The man who murdered Will is dead and the men responsible for the vendetta against John Cameron were arrested this morning. It’s over, Alex. There’s nothing more to fear.”
He had to believe that was true — for now at least. She didn’t have to know that the threat to them could extend far into the future. Then he remembered that it was John Cameron’s over-protectiveness that had contributed to Will’s murder and realized he’d have to tell her about Michael Graham’s escape...but not today.
“So we’re safe, are we? Well, I don’t feel safe. Maybe I never will. When someone you love is fine one minute and dead the next, all certainty about life disappears.” Her eyes filled with tears as her gaze shifted from his face to her hands and the emerald and diamond ring she still wore on the left.
Diego felt a stab of jealousy and chastised himself for resenting a dead man’s hold on her. And not just any man — his brother. Alex would always love Will. He’d either have to accept that or let her go, but the thought of losing her unnerved him. “So is that it? Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Goddamn it, he was wiped out and would have liked more sleep.
“No, not really,” she hesitated. “You avoided my question or maybe I wasn’t clear. What I want to know is what happens to us, this ‘us’ that we’ve begun? Do I go back to whatever my life will be in Boston and you go...where will you go? To Argentina?”
“Buenos Aires is my home. It’s where I was born and our business is based there...so are my parents.”
“Oh,” she replied, missing him already.
He’d given the same subject a lot of thought. He’d assumed that what he felt for her was simply physical, but his desire had intensified instead of burning itself out. She was smart, brave, unpredictable, funny, and passionate and he enjoyed every moment he spent with her, even when she exasperated him. And then there was the extraordinary tenderness he felt for her. His heart was no longer just his, and he was determined to win hers. Between him and Serge, they’d be safe from whatever threat the crazy Scots still posed. He’d hire another bodyguard, or two or three, a whole army if necessary. That would piss her off, but too bad.
“I’ve been thinking too, Alex.”
“I can see that,” she said and smiled when she realized that he was as unsure of what to say as she had been.
“How old does a man have to be before he buys a house of his own?”
“A house? I don’t know,” she replied, completely puzzled by Diego’s question. “Do you really want an answer?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, I’ve been on my own since college, but that’s because my parents died. Will rented until we got married and his parents gave us the condo as a wedding gift. I’m still not sure where you’re going with this.”
“I’m thirty-five and I still live with my parents. Isn’t that pathetic? I can afford to buy a house, but I never had a reason to do it.”
Alex was still standing near the cabin’s door. As Diego left the bed their gazes locked and he walked toward her. He slid his trembling hands up and down her arms, and finally cradled her face. His usual glibness seemed to have deserted him and Alex could barely breathe, afraid that the house he planned to buy would be thousands of miles away.
“Would it be too much trouble for you to help me find a house in Boston? I think I might like to live in one of those beautiful Back Bay brownstones.”
All the tension left her body as relief poured into her. Alex was sure that there was a lot he wasn’t saying, knew it was too soon to say, but they’d talk about those things in time. They both needed time. She couldn’t wait to tell Francie that she’d been absolutely right about her and Diego.
“Would you mind very much if you and I lived in the same city?” he finally asked.
“No,” she answered and her smile met the one that lit his face. “I wouldn’t mind that a bit.”
Legacy of the Highlands Page 30
