A doctor sat next to the bed, holding a stethoscope to Joshua’s bandaged chest. Matt nodded to Cord, sitting in a corner, then waited for the doctor to finish examining Joshua before he introduced himself.
“He’s lost a great deal of blood, Señor Arroyo, but fortunately none of his vital organs were damaged.”
Matt did not take his gaze from the motionless figure. He knew Joshua would survive only because if he wouldn’t he would’ve died before he was brought into the hospital. On the other hand, he knew Joshua’s chances for survival diminished alarmingly with every second he remained in Mexico, because whoever attacked him would probably try again.
“He’s very strong,” the doctor continued, registering the look of concern on Matt’s face.
“Is he in a coma?”
“No. I’ve been practicing medicine for a long time,” the elderly surgeon confessed, “but I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s as if he’s willed his brain to shutdown so that he won’t have to acknowledge his pain or weakness.”
Matt smiled for the first time. The doctor had unknowingly analyzed Joshua Kirkland. Those who knew Joshua joked about him being a human computer. This comment was never made aloud because no one dared to let Joshua know how he’d been categorized.
“How soon can he be moved?” Matt questioned.
“No, no, Señor Arroyo. He cannot be moved. He’s holding his own, but I can’t guarantee that he’ll live if you try—”
“Nothing is guaranteed, Señor Médico,” Matt interrupted. “Nothing.”
The doctor shrugged and spread out his hands in a futile gesture. “He’s your responsibility. I’ll sign the discharge papers, and you can take him whenever you’re ready.”
“You know damn well we can’t move him, Mateo,” Cordero Birmingham argued softly after the doctor left the room.
Matt turned and stared at Cord. “What do you suggest we do? Neither one of us can stay here and watch him.”
Cord ran long fingers through his already mussed hair. “How are we going to get him out?”
“I’ll have his family make the arrangements.”
Cord went still. “I thought he didn’t have anyone.”
“He has family,” Matt confirmed.
“I’ll stay here with him while you contact his family,” Cord suggested.
Matt nodded and left the coolness of the mission-turned-hospital and stepped out into the arid heat. The shadowy figure of an emaciated dog wandered slowly across the darkened landscape.
He removed the cellular phone from the car and punched in the area code for Florida. The telephone on the other end buzzed several times before it was picked up.
“Martin Cole, please,” Matt said into the receiver after a woman had announced he’d reached the Cole residence.
“I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Cole is not at home at the present time.”
“Where can he be reached?” Matt snapped impatiently.
“Mr. Cole is unavailable, sir.”
He clenched his teeth in frustration. The drawling Floridian accent reminded him of how far he was from home. “Look, Ma’am,” he continued in a softer tone. “I don’t have much time, but it is important that you get a message to Mr. Cole. This is an emergency.”
The woman on the other end registered the urgency in his voice for the first time. “Give me the information, sir, and I’ll have Mr. Cole contact you.”
Matt sat in the car, the door open, his feet planted on the dusty ground, waiting for the return call. He only had to wait three minutes. He swooped up the phone after the first ring.
“Martin?”
“What the hell is going on down there?”
He decided not to mince words. “I need you to arrange to get Joshua out of Mexico. Your brother’s belly met with the blade of someone’s knife, and I’m afraid if you don’t get him out they’ll try again.”
The raw expletive coming through the receiver raised Matt’s eyebrows. All traces of Martin Cole’s normally velvet tone were absent.
“I’m at the hospital,” Martin informed him. “Parris is in labor, and it’s been tough going for her.” There was a pause. “I can’t leave her, but David’s in your backyard. In fact, he should be touching down in San José in about an hour. Tell me where you are, and I’ll have him make the arrangements to get Josh back here.”
Matt completed the call, then returned to the hospital.
“It’s set,” he informed Cord as he slipped quietly back into the room. “I’ll stay with him.”
Cord rose from the chair beside the bed. “He hasn’t stirred at all. Not even when the nurse changed the intravenous feeding.”
Matt gave him a reassuring smile. “He’ll be all right.” This was Cord’s first international mission and he knew the younger man was uneasy about risks he and Joshua had experienced many, many times in the past.
Cordero Birmingham turned toward the door, then hesitated. “I’ll be back in three days for Eve Blackwell. I’ve been ordered to see that she gets back to her uncle. Three days and no more, or you’re on your own.”
Sudden rage lit up Matt’s golden eyes. “You son of—”
“Orders are orders, Mateo!” Cord ranted; spinning around on his heel.
Matt quickly brought his temper under control. “She’s now Eve Arroyo.”
Cord registered the shift in Matt’s mood immediately. “Why didn’t you tell me she was Blackwell’s niece when I told you Delgado was no longer your target?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“That’s because I didn’t know.” He moved closer to Matt, analyzing his expression. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you? Blackwell sets you up with his niece and you fall in love with the woman.” His bubbling laughter bounced off the walls of the small room.
Matt removed his bow tie and the onyx stud under his pleated shirt’s wing collar. “What the hell is so funny?”
“You, Mateo. You’re getting soft, old man.” He took a glance at Matt’s scowling face and sobered quickly. “You have impeccable taste. Eve Blackwell Arroyo is exquisite.”
Matt had to agree. “That she is, Cordero,” he confirmed, the vibrancy in his tone revealing the depth of affection he had for the woman he’d claimed for his wife. “You’d better get back before someone realizes you’re missing.” He held out his hand. “I’ll see you in three days. Eve will be ready.”
Cord took the proffered hand. “Thanks for making it easy for me. By the way, I’ve had a chance to talk to Delgado. It looks as if he’s willing to meet with you.”
Matt didn’t take the chair Cord had vacated once he left the room. He was too wound up to sit. He had only three days with Eve, and in another seven it all would be over. Joshua Kirkland had set up and mobilized the operation which had been given the code name MESA before someone sought to eliminate him.
David Cole walked into the hospital room and Matt rose slowly from the chair beside Joshua’s bed. His once shoulder-length, wavy black hair was cut close to his scalp, the diamond stud in his left ear was gone, and his perennial black attire had been replaced by an expertly tailored, lightweight, dark gray suit.
Eyes as black as pitch were fixed on the motionless figure on the narrow hospital bed. “How is he?”
Matt ran a large hand over the stubble on his chin, then massaged the tight muscles in his neck. He’d waited patiently for David Cole’s arrival from Costa Rica.
“He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“How is he?” David repeated, tension quivering in his voice.
“The doctor thinks he has a good chance of making it.”
David leaned over and placed a brown hand on Joshua’s forehead. His skin was moist, but cool. “Help me get him out of this cesspool.”
Joshua’s inert body was covered with a sheet as Matt and David carried him on a stretcher from the hospital to an awaiting converted ambulance.
David extended his hand. “Thanks again. It seems as if the Coles owe you another one, Matt.”
“And we owe you. Joshua and I aren’t as close as he and Martin, but we’re still brothers. I think it’s time we became better acquainted.”
“How are you getting him back?”
David tugged at his left ear. “I have a medical team standing by with a helicopter at Ejutala. From there we’ll fly into Oaxaca. The company jet will take us home.”
Matt patted David’s broad shoulder. “Good luck. Send Martin and Parris my best for the new baby, and let Regina know that I asked about her.”
“Why don’t you come for a visit? Regina has grown into quite a beauty.”
“I’ll take you up on the invitation one of these days. Right now I’m anxious to get back to my wife.”
Matt watched David climb into the back of the ambulance and close the door. He was able to draw a normal breath for the first time in more than twelve hours. He waited until the vehicle disappeared in a cloud of red dirt before he turned to where he had parked his car.
Eve. He was going back to her, and he did not want to think of the time when he would have to hand her over to Cord, to be escorted back to the United States and safety.
He glanced up at the brilliant, cloudless sky. At least he was given a three-day reprieve.
Chapter 20
Lilian Martín opened her door to a weary Mateo Arroyo. “Eve has not slept all night, Mateo. She’s been waiting up for you.” He followed Lilian into the kitchen and she handed him a cup of steaming black coffee. “She helped me put the babies to bed, but wouldn’t go herself.”
“She’ll sleep after I take her home,” Matt replied, giving Lilian a tired smile. “She has trouble falling asleep in a strange—”
He couldn’t finish his sentence as Eve walked into the kitchen. She saw him and her eyes widened, a trembling hand going to her mouth. She moaned his name and Matt was beside her, catching her sagging body to his chest while placing tiny kisses on her closed lids.
“Eve. My precious, Eve,” Matt whispered against her ear.
Eve thought she had dreamt him up. All night she had sat waiting for him, and when the sky brightened with the beginning of a new day she had almost given up hope. Waiting and praying; praying and waiting. For the past six months she’d prayed and waited enough for Chris to last her a lifetime. Now she’d added Matt to her prayer list. She felt his warmth and his strength. Pressing closer, Eve wanted to fuse herself with Matt, become a part of him.
“Matt, my darling,” she half-laughed and cried, inhaling his familiar masculine scent. She wanted to touch him all over, love him until she fainted from the ecstasy he wrung from her.
Eve gave a small cry of protest as he pulled away. “It’s all right, Baby. I’m going to take you home where I’m going to show you just how much I’ve missed you,” he whispered.
She stared up at her husband, not seeing the strain and fatigue ringing his generous mouth. All she knew was that she loved him, and he would give her back her child.
“Let’s go home, Matt.”
Eve had drifted off to sleep by the time Matt slipped into bed beside her. She’d promised to wait for him while he shaved and showered, but couldn’t. He, on the other hand, was wide awake and operating on reserved adrenalin. His mind craved sleep but he knew that wasn’t possible until he made love to his wife.
Matt reached out for her, his fingers grazing bare flesh, and he smiled. Eve had left off her nightgown. The feel of her velvety skin snapped whatever control he had on his dammed passions.
Eve moaned in her sleep and settled back against Matt’s body. His hand moved from the curve of her hip, up over her ribs and to a full, firm, silken breast. As he fondled it gently, the nipple hardened against his palm.
She rolled over, the motion bringing her chest to his. His head dipped, and a jolt of erotic pleasure shocked Eve awake.
“Matt…oh, Matt,” she said, his name rolling off her tongue while he sucked her breasts in a drugging, agonizing, slow motion.
His breathing was slow, deep, and controlled, masking the throbbing hardness pressing against her belly. The fingers of one hand skimmed her abdomen, then her thigh.
Eve’s thighs parted involuntarily as a rush of moisture bathed her core. Her desire dampened his fingers, signaling she was ready, and Matt moved over her and she welcomed him into her body.
She felt the heat of his body course down the length of hers, and her whole being was scorched with a desire she hadn’t known she was capable of feeling.
She gripped his buttocks, pulling him closer. The rhythm he set changed, quickening. She followed his pace, arching as he drove into her, the thick blood-engorged length plunging in and out with longer and deeper strokes.
Matt buried his face against Eve’s neck, straining valiantly to prolong the ecstasy. Reaching down between their bodies, he spread the folds hiding her moist sex and exposed the tiny bud of flesh at the apex of her femininity. Angling his body slightly, he rubbed his member sensuously up and down against the distended nub, and he achieved the reaction he sought from Eve as she stiffened, screaming out his name, then convulsed as her body opened and closed around his rigid flesh. The thrust of his powerful hips forced her thighs open wider and he exploded, filling her body with his hot seed.
He collapsed heavily on her, his chest heaving in exertion. Sweet heaven, how can I send her back? Did he have the strength to let her go?
Reversing their positions, Matt held Eve to his chest until they both fell asleep.
Matt sat watching Eve’s animated face, not touching his dinner.
“Matt,” she scolded in a gentle voice. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying.”
He twisted several strands of spaghetti around his fork, then gave up the pretense all together. Covering his face with one hand, he exhaled slowly.
“I’m sorry, Eve,” he apologized through his fingers.
“I’m sorry, Matt. I’ve been clucking like a barnyard hen while you’re falling asleep—”
“I’m not tired,” he cut in sharply. Pushing back his chair, he rose to his feet. “Excuse me,” he mumbled before walking out of the dining room.
It had finally hit him. The fairy tale was over and it was back to reality. Ugly, dirty reality and the job he had been paid to do.
He wanted to admit that he’d forgotten the reason he was operating in Mexico. He wanted to forget that he was to uncover the person or persons responsible for leaking information about how the American and Mexican governments were cooperating to eradicate the flow of drugs from Mexico into the United States.
In the past some Mexico officials had proved infuriatingly evasive, looking the other way or denying a Mexican-American marijuana, cocaine and heroin connection; now that the Mexican government had offered their full support, someone in the States wanted to sabotage the campaign.
Even with the removal of DEA Director Nathaniel Webb the leak had not been stopped. The attempt on Joshua Kirkland’s life meant that the mole knew exactly who he was. Only a half dozen people were privy to Joshua’s function within the U.S. military.
Matt walked out of the house and lit up a cigar. He drew deeply on the fragrant tobacco and stared up at the darkened sky littered with millions of twinkling stars. The heavens were clear, indicating there would be no rain this night.
He inhaled deeply, taking in the fragrance of blooming night flowers, damp earth, and rotting vegetation over the odor of cigar smoke. The nearby forest was quiet, except for night predators preying on the weak and unsuspecting.
Focusing on a wall of black, he tried vainly to see through it. His concentration was slipping. He had to identify which one of the people involved in Operation MESA knew that Joshua was the mastermind, people he had worked with before on other covert missions. He mentally eliminated the three who had on one or more occasion shielded him from certain death: Manuel Rivera, Lupe Morales, and Rene Izquierdo; that left two
: Cordero Birmingham and Jorge Martín.
He wanted to believe that Cordero wasn’t suspect, because it was Cord who had taken Joshua to the hospital. If he’d wanted Kirkland dead he would’ve finished the job.
Matt exhaled a stream of smoke, shaking his head. No, it couldn’t have been Cord. There would’ve been no way Cord would’ve been able to pull a knife on Joshua without being wounded or killed himself. Joshua’s hands and feet were as lethal as any gun, and Matt knew there had to have been more than one attacker.
That left one other person—Jorge Martín! Jorge was the agency’s senior drug law-enforcement agent in North America. It had become a personal vendetta for Jorge to lure and snare drug traffickers, after his youngest brother had been shot and crippled as he stood in a schoolyard during a lunch break. Several teenage dealers had gotten into an argument over territorial boundaries and begun shooting randomly, hitting the young boy in his spine.
Matt shrugged off the possibility that the mole could be Jorge. He couldn’t afford to become emotionally involved. If it was Jorge, then he’d report it to Harry and turn his back on the whole affair.
And he still had to find Christopher Delgado. Was the child still in Mexico? If he was, where?
He also wondered if Jorge had told Delgado that Mateo Arroyo secretly directed a heroin and cocaine enterprise which had proven to be quite lucrative because he was able to travel between the United States and Mexico with relative ease.
Dammit to hell, he was tired of it! Why couldn’t he just walk away and say to hell with it? When had he developed a conscience? He wanted to say that Eve was responsible, but he had had enough of it before Blackwell had come to see him.
He crushed out the cigar and leaned against the side of the house. It was only one more job, one more with a bonus—Eve Sterling Arroyo. Somehow she would make all of it worthwhile.
Eve lay beside Matt, staring up at a void. She counted his measured, even breaths in the darkened room, and she knew he wasn’t asleep. She was amazed at how much she had learned about the man by sleeping with him.
She knew if he was tense or relaxed, awake or asleep, or if their coming together was an act of passion or one of desperation; and when Matt had returned to the house and joined her in bed, he came to her with a savage need which took her breath away.
Hidden Agenda Page 17
