Heart Stealers

by Patricia McLinn

Daniel had little patience for fencing – besides he’d never beat the master at it.

  “Robert, what’s this about? I visited in Florida. I made phone calls. I took a leave. Is that a problem for you?”

  “For me?” the older man sounded genuinely surprised. “Not at all. However, Daniel, it has come to my attention that some people have been making inquiries about you with certain sources here in Washington.”

  Kendra.

  “That so?” He wondered if Robert would hear the grin in his voice, or understand it if he could.

  Why was he not surprised?

  Because the fact of her being a resourceful, skeptical and tenacious reporter had worried him when he’d first encountered her on Santa Estella. It was the reason he’d followed her when she’d refused to leave the island with her crew and instead headed out on the trail of Taumaturgio – his trail. It was the reason, once the hurricane hit and she’d been fighting her way up the street, that he’d made sure she heard that banging door so she’d take shelter where he could keep an eye on her.

  Well, part of the reason.

  But it was the only reason he’d stayed away after Aretha. Reporter Kendra Jenner had been too dangerous to Taumaturgio.

  She’d have dug and dug until she knew exactly who he was. As Taumaturgio he couldn’t afford that. But if digging now helped her feel about Daniel Delligatti what she’d once felt for Paulo Ayudor...

  “Yes. It also came to my attention that a certain university’s alumni roster was accessed on your behalf shortly before you left for Wyoming.”

  Daniel’s grin evaporated. Came to Robert’s attention, his ass. “Are you tracking me, Robert?”

  “No.” He said it with convincing simplicity. “However, a number of people know of our connection. In addition, I have had occasion to talk with the people who have supervised you while you dealt with certain, uh, issues, and they have expressed to me both their concern about your abrupt move to take an extended leave and their eagerness to have you return to your former status.”

  “I’m not ready to go back.”

  “Will you be soon?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is there a problem, Daniel? Something... Well, with these questions being asked...”

  “The questions have nothing to do with my job, Robert. Tell anyone who asks it’s fine with me to answer anything that doesn’t breach security. And don’t worry, I won’t breach it, either, if that’s why you called.”

  “I never thought you would.” Robert’s calm answer both irked and pleased Daniel. The guy just didn’t get riled, but his underlying certainty about Daniel’s trustworthiness also stirred a kernel of warmth in Daniel. “I called because I thought you should be aware of these inquiries, and...”

  When Robert uncharacteristically allowed that to dangle, Daniel prompted, “And?”

  “If you’re having a personal problem that I can help with...” Robert cleared his throat and paused.

  Well, I’ll be damned.

  That was all Daniel could think, too surprised to say anything.

  “I hope you know you could call on me, Daniel.”

  “Thank you,” he got out. It sounded rusty, unused. “I... I appreciate that. But it’s not anything anyone can, uh, help with.”

  “I understand. Would you prefer that I not indicate to Mother and Father where you are at the moment?”

  “No – I’ll call them soon myself.”

  “Very well, I’ll leave that to you then. Goodbye, Daniel.”

  “Goodbye, Robert.”

  Daniel still had a hand on the phone when it rang a second time. He jerked it up and barked out a hello.

  This time it was Kendra.

  “Do you have time to come by this morning?”

  It was not the voice of a woman who’d reconsidered a man’s proposal and decided to say yes. It was clipped and businesslike.

  “I have nothing but time.”

  “Around nine. My house. We have to talk.”

  Chapter Five

  “Morning, Kendra.”

  Silently, she stepped back, and let him pass. He hadn’t wasted any time. Nine-oh-two.

  His eyes searched the room as he came in.

  “Matthew’s at Marti’s, playing with Emily this morning.”

  He nodded. “I suppose that’s good.”

  “It can get difficult carrying on a conversation when he’s in top gear.”

  She gestured for him to take the same chair he’d occupied yesterday. Had it only been yesterday? She’d experienced so many emotions –

  She cut off that thought with a dose of the mundane.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “No, thanks.”

  She’d already been moving toward the coffee maker, expecting to have the excuse to fiddle with it for a while. She poured herself a cup she didn’t particularly want.

  “If you’re going to stay around Far Hills a while –”

  “I am,” he interjected.

  “– you might as well come to the back door. That’s what folks do around here. Especially if we ever get the rain we’ve been needing and it’s muddy.”

  “I’ll remember. What do you want to talk about?”

  His directness made her foray into a weather report stand out all the more. What was her problem?

  She’d thought this out last night. All of last night.

  From that first moment of joy at seeing him, of knowing he was alive and safe, her feelings had jumbled contradictions on top of contradictions. She wouldn’t have thought it possible to feel so many conflicting emotions at once.

  In the end, the rational and understandable point remained that she’d always wanted Matthew to have a father who loved him and was involved in his life. She had to pursue any possibility of that wish coming true for Matthew.

  Daniel Delligatti pulled on different identities without a blink. How could someone like him be a good father? But she had to give it a chance – any failure to give Matthew his father must be on Daniel Delligatti’s plate, not hers.

  Still, she had to guard Matthew against being hurt if – when? – his father dropped out of his life.

  She took a swallow of coffee before finally answering, “I want to talk about Matthew. He’s the important issue.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “I might have given you the wrong impression yesterday. With the shock and...” She watched her hand lower the cup, as if fitting it into the depression of the saucer constituted a tricky maneuver. “I won’t stand between my son and his father. We’ll work it out so you can see him.”

  “Thank you.” His intense eyes studied her for what felt like an hour. “And you?”

  “And me what?”

  “Will I see you?”

  “I’m not about to hand over Matthew and leave you to your own devices, if that’s what you mean. I’m going to be around as much as it takes to make sure he’s okay – and you can be trusted.”

  “I would never let any harm come to him.”

  Despite their history, despite his lies, despite her good sense, she believed him. And that roused her anger.

  “You won’t get a chance to harm him. I’ll see to that. So, yes, you’re going to be seeing me. As often as you see Matthew. There won’t be unsupervised visits until I’m totally satisfied.”

  “I understand. But that’s not what I meant about seeing you.”

  “Then I have no idea what you meant.”

  “Yes, you do, Kendra.”

  His brown eyes regarded her steadily. They were Paulo Ayudor’s eyes. The eyes of a man who hadn’t existed.

  Except... In this light they weren’t as dark as they’d been in the murkiness of their shelter from Aretha. There, they’d seemed as black as his pupils. But now she saw the warmer tones of chocolate brown and even flecks of green and gold.

  Paulo’s eyes had accepted whatever she’d told him. These eyes challenged her to admit the truth – at least to herself.

 
She did know what he meant. And that part of her that had hesitated over his outrageous marriage proposal last night wanted to agree. That made her even angrier.

  “You can’t disappear into the night as a Santa Estellan named Paulo Ayudor, go back to being the legendary Taumaturgio for three years, pop up as Tompkins, then stroll in as a someone named Daniel Delligatti and think things will be the same.”

  “What was there between us is the same. Unless... You’re not married – are you involved with someone?”

  “That has nothi –”

  “This Luke?”

  “Luke’s a friend.” She’d meant to get answers, not give them. “And that isn’t the issue. You and I – we’re strangers. Strangers in the uncomfortable position of having a child together. We don’t –”

  “We’re not strangers. We’re the same people who spent those hours together we thought might be our last on earth. The hours when we made Matthew.”

  She ignored his final words, and the frisson they set loose along her backbone.

  “No, we’re not the same. You’re certainly not – that was all fiction for God’s sake.” She hurried on before he could object. “And I’m not the same. From the time I found out I was pregnant, from the time I knew I would be raising my son alone, I became a different person.”

  “Not deep inside, Kendra. There you’re the same person. So am I. And you know that person. But if you think you don’t know me, I’ll give you the opportunity to fill in blanks you think need filling in, like some form. Go ahead, ask me whatever you want. And –” He slanted a faintly amused look at her. “– whatever your sources haven’t already told you.”

  This wasn’t going at all the way she’d planned. Pushing back the uncomfortable sensation of being caught off guard, she snapped, “You’re surprised I wanted to check out your story?”

  “Not surprised. A little disappointed. But you shouldn’t be surprised I knew about it, either. You have your sources, I have mine.”

  “Disappointed? That I don’t take you at your word – again – and let myself be lied to – again? Let me tell you, Daniel Benton Delligatti, when it comes to my son, I’m not taking any chances.”

  “I know.” His words were not the least contrite. “That’s why I told people to tell your sources anything they want to know that doesn’t compromise security.”

  “And you shouldn’t mind answering my questions directly, either,” she challenged, glaring into his eyes. Almost immediately, the danger of locking looks announced itself in a new warmth under her skin. She blinked, then studied his shoulder as she added, “Starting with how you became Taumaturgio.”

  He said nothing. As the silence continued, she realized he would wait as long as necessary – until she met his eyes. She jerked her chin up and met his gaze.

  “This is off the record, Kendra.”

  “I doubt the Far Hills Banner would be interested in secret missions in Santa Estella. Organizational meetings for childcare cooperatives are more its style.”

  “It’s not the Far Hills Banner I’m talking to. It’s Kendra Jenner, and I know what kind of reporter she is – wherever she’s working. Off the record.”

  She was tempted to tell him she didn’t let sources dictate to her. But she’d never report this story. Not only because her job had changed, but because of Matthew. A spotlight aimed on Taumaturgio would almost certainly reach Matthew. And, to be honest with herself, she would never report the story because of him – Taumaturgio, Paulo, Daniel, whatever name he used. It would feel too much like betrayal.

  “Off the record,” she agreed.

  “People at the consulate knew what was happening in Santa Estella, with some officials selling off aid and getting rich, and they didn’t like it. Trouble is, when a country’s government is swearing up and down that the aid is getting where it belongs, it’s hard to push in and make things right. Causes nasty talk about Yankee imperialism and such. So our hands were tied... officially.”

  “You already worked at the consulate?”

  “No. I was brought in.”

  “The consulate staff knew?”

  He shook his head. “Only one contact.”

  “But you’re career foreign service?”

  “Not exactly, though I do get a government paycheck.”

  “CIA?”

  He grinned, a sudden, vibrant flash of white teeth against deeply tanned skin. Just like he had – No. She would not let memories of a man who hadn’t truly existed affect her. That had been excusable yesterday, with the shock of seeing him. But she’d thought this through, and she couldn’t afford that. The volatile compound of memories could blow up in her face.

  “Bite your tongue. CIA’s too public. Too many people know what it’s doing, it’s too big a bureaucracy and generally too unimaginative to handle that kind of job.”

  “I didn’t mean to insult your professional dignity,” she said tartly, and his grin widened. “But I’ve always heard about the CIA having people at the embassies.”

  “Some embassies have CIA types around, but they aren’t the only, uh, specialists. Some specialists are officially in the foreign service. Some aren’t. I wasn’t. But I had the background to pass muster and they needed someone who could fly.”

  She’d heard pieces of that background from her sources. As the younger son of a career foreign service officer, Daniel Delligatti had been brought up in embassies and consulates around the world. His older brother had continued in the family business and was working his way up the ladder, though the titles were vague. Daniel’s work history was even more difficult to pin down.

  “Then exactly whom do you work for?” she asked. Her sources hadn’t come up with that yet.

  He shook his head ruefully. “That’s one of the things I can’t tell you. It wouldn’t mean anything to you even if I did tell you the name, but – No, maybe you would have heard of it. But I still can’t tell you. It’s part of the deal when you sign on with the outfit.”

  He said it simply, but it had the ring of a man who stood by his pledges.

  Pledges.

  We made a pledge, Kendra.... It’s a pledge I intend to keep.

  She shook off the echo of his words and reminded herself that his convincing delivery could also be the hallmark of a consummate liar.

  She had to remember how many times he’d fooled her already. Had to hold onto that knowledge for her peace of mind and to safeguard Matthew’s heart.

  “So, you’re not with the CIA, but you are a spy.”

  “Kendra –”

  “You must have had special training.”

  “Some, but –”

  “Like how to kill? Have you killed people?”

  “No.”

  The stark way he said it not only convinced her, but reminded her that what he’d done in Santa Estella had been about saving people – children – not killing. But his next words returned a hint of self-mockery.

  “I’ll tell you this, mostly what I do – did before Santa Estella – was fly for this government outfit when... well, let’s say in the sort of situations when our people couldn’t go standby on the next available commercial flight – if commercial flights went to those spots. So they had me and a few other pilots available. I had training in case things didn’t go exactly according to plan, but I’m a pilot, not a spy.”

  One of her sources had left the information that he’d had a pilot’s license since about the same time he’d had a driver’s license on her answering machine last night. If she’d had any doubts before about how she would respond to his ridiculous proposal to make them a family, that had ended them.

  “I remember hearing tales about Taumaturgio’s flying – no instruments, no lights, in planes held together by chewing gum.”

  “Sometimes old chewing gum,” he said wryly.

  “A daredevil.”

  He frowned. “Not when I didn’t have to be. The idea was to make sure aid got through to the people who needed it – especially the kids. A cras
hed daredevil didn’t do them any good.”

  “So what happened?”

  He shifted, resting his forearms against the edge of the table, with his spread fingers meeting tip to tip.

  “Nine months ago, I got called to Washington. The kind of invitation you don’t refuse. On a mission like this they allow latitude, they said, but not as much as they felt I’d taken. They said to retire Taumaturgio.”

  “Nine months ago? When that story broke about a second planeload of kids you’d flown to the hospital in Miami.”

  “Yeah.” He shook his head. “I’d hoped to keep it quiet, but no hurricane saved me from a nosy reporter that time.”

  She ignored the hint of teasing. “It was a good story.”

  A story she’d followed with so many conflicting emotions. Was that when the suspicion that Paulo and Taumaturgio were linked first surfaced to her conscious mind?

  She’d spent hours taping the reports. There’d been a lot about the plight of the children and much praise for Taumaturgio – from the children, the medical personnel and the people of Santa Estella, but no reporter had caught up with him. Gradually, the story died out.

  “I’ll take your word for what makes a good story.”

  “It got a lot of attention for Santa Estella.”

  He shrugged. “So’d Hurricane Aretha. The gain wasn’t worth that price, either. Unfortunately that story brought a lot of attention to Taumaturgio bringing in kids illegally. The chain of command didn’t care for that. I suppose they’d known before, but they hadn’t had it out in the public. The Santa Estellan officials raised a stink, and Washington said Taumaturgio had to disappear.”

  “Disappear? But the stories didn’t end nine months ago. Only two months ago –”

  She stopped, recognizing what her words revealed – a woman who’d tracked all mentions of Santa Estella and Taumaturgio. But he took her statement matter-of-factly.

  “I held out. Kept running supplies in, while I tried to get some big relief groups to put Santa Estella on their list.”

  “But you had orders.”

  “Call it a differing interpretation of exactly how much latitude I had.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t suppose that went over too well.”