by Desiree Holt
“What?” Taylor’s eyebrows flew upward.
“So he struck out on his own,” Noah continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “He worked for other ranchers in South Texas until he saved enough money to buy some land and cattle himself. He and my mother never got rich but they made a very comfortable living. Enough to send me off to get a college degree, which they both insisted on.”
“I don’t understand.” Taylor chewed her bottom lip. “What was so wrong? I still hate my grandparents for what they did to Josiah and my mother.”
Noah was still as a statue, hands still in his pockets, back as straight as an iron rod. “I graduated with a degree in engineering, went into the Army Rangers for four years and came back to San Antonio to a great job with a small but very good firm. The senior partner was like my grandparents, descended from a long line of Spanish nobility. I met his daughter, bright and beautiful and we fell in love.”
Something in Taylor’s insides turned over and pinched at her heart. She didn’t think she was going to like what came next.
Noah began to pace in the small area, his eyes never looking at her. “We got a little careless and she became pregnant but we were planning to marry anyway. I took her home to meet my parents.”
Such an intense look of pain crossed his face Taylor wanted to cry out.
“That was the end of it. Before I could even think, the engagement was off, she’d aborted the child and I was out of a job.”
She couldn’t stand it anymore. “I still don’t understand. What was so awful?”
Now he turned and looked at her, the anguish in his eyes burning like a living flame. “My mother is also from around here. Near Fredericksburg not far from where the cabin is. Also a descendant of many generations. Only she’s full-blooded Comanche. Just like my grandparents, Teresa’s parents didn’t want a half-breed in the family. Neither did she. And they spared no language to tell me what they thought.”
“My God!” The words exploded from her mouth. She’d thought her own situation was bad enough but at least for her mother abortion had never been a choice. She fought her parents long and hard about it.
“I didn’t drink much then. Still don’t. But that night I went out and really tied one on. The bartender knew me and took my car keys away from me, so I started walking home. It was pouring rain and freezing cold, a typical Texas winter night. I finally sat down against a building and decided if I froze to death or caught pneumonia I’d be a lot better off. That’s when Josiah found me.”
“My father?” She wanted so badly to go to him, touch him, soothe him with her hands but she sensed it would be the wrong thing to do.
“The building was where Arroyo had its offices then. He nearly stumbled over me when he came out of the door. I guess I must have been mumbling and he got bits and pieces of the story. He dragged me into his car and took me home with him.”
“He saw his own situation reflected in yours,” she guessed.
“Probably.” He stopped to pour himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the sidebar. “He was a stubborn man, your father. He refused to let me give up and die. He bullied me into living, taught me to value myself and ignore the slurs and gave me a job working for him.”
Taylor was beginning to feel desperate. “But that doesn’t explain your attitude toward me.”
He whirled on her, his face a taut mask but his eyes blazing. “Doesn’t it? I made up my mind after that not to let any woman into my life. I couldn’t put myself through it again. Sex, yes. But not anything else. You and I come from opposite worlds, Taylor. Your world would never accept me and in time you’d grow to despise me. Just as Teresa did.”
“God!” She stood up and stamped her foot. “You are the most insufferable ass I have ever met. Not to mention insulting. How dare you assume things about me.”
She was as angry as he was. Maybe more so. If she’d been taller and stronger she’d have punched him.
“I’m going with the truth.” He was standing in front of her now, a solid piece of granite. “Your family is cut from the same social cloth as Teresa’s. There’s nothing for us in the future, Taylor. Accept it and move on. This whole thing was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Maybe I could just shoot him.
“I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted another woman in my life.” His hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides. “Even more than Teresa. I thought if I could fuck you enough I’d get it out of my system.”
“But that didn’t work, did it?” she challenged. “And last night made you realize you can’t be a disinterested observer anymore.”
Whatever else he would have said was lost by the pilot’s interruption over the intercom. “Miss Scott? Mr. Cantrell? We’ll be landing in a few minutes. You’ll need to take your seats.”
“We’re not done,” she told him, spitting out the words. “Not by half.”
“Yes, we are.” His voice was more bitter than she’d ever heard it.
Then they were banking over green jungle heading toward a dirt landing strip and the time for conversation was over.
For now.
* * * * *
Taylor knew very little about the Mexican state of Chiapas, only what she’d read in the newspaper. The Mexican government had established a massive military presence, including many paramilitary groups, to wage a low-level war against the protesting indigenous groups who lived there. Funding the groups often became a problem and many of the paramilitary units turned to kidnapping, drugs and arms as a way to support their operations.
Outside the cabin window they were surrounded by the greenery of jungle growth and something much more ominous—at least a dozen men in jungle fatigues carrying rifles, belts with bullets and grenades slung around their chests and waists. No one was smiling.
Taylor turned to Noah. “What’s going on?”
“Everything’s fine.” His mask was firmly in place and the aviator shades he slipped on as he jogged down the stairway hid even his eyes.
Taylor watched as one man stepped forward and shook hands with Noah. Then they embraced and she released her pent-up breath although she was still far from reassured. Noah turned and climbed back up the stairs, the man behind him. Taylor stood at the back wall of the cabin, wondering where she could hide if she needed to.
“Taylor Scott, I’d like you to meet Edgar Villalobos. Edgar, this is Josiah’s daughter.”
Edgar took her hand and bent over it, his narrow moustache tickling the back of her hand. “It is my very great pleasure, Señorita Scott. Your father was a man of great character.”
“Gracias.” Taylor managed a faint smile but she looked at Noah with questions in her eyes.
“Edgar was in the Rangers with me,” Noah explained. “When I was setting up the new security department at Arroyo he came to work with me for a while. Before his relatives begged him to help them here.”
Relatives. Paramilitary. That meant that Edgar was somehow related to the ruling party on Mexico. Was he part of the group Kate and Paul were dealing with? No. She shook her internal head. Noah would know who to trust and who not to.
“Edgar is definitely on our side,” Noah said, as if he could read her thoughts. “There are several paramilitary groups down here, many of them working at cross-purposes. Edgar says one of them is guarding the facility and working the arms deals with Kate. These men here are all loyal to him.”
“That’s certainly good to know. So now what?”
Edgar smiled, a flash of white teeth in a dark face, although it held little humor. “Now, Miss Scott, we will gather in the rest of my men and make our way to the site of the factory. Noah has indicated he would not be unhappy if we put it out of business and we plan to accommodate him.”
“You stay here,” Noah ordered. “Edgar will leave some men to guard you.”
“Not on your life, you damned arrogant ass. This is my company and it was my father they killed. Give me a minute to change shoes and I’m right with you.”
Taylor knew if she could see Noah’s eyes they’d be filled with murderous rage but she was past caring. This was her fight. She’d nearly been killed twice, two of Noah’s security guards had been beaten almost to death the day of that attack and Charlie was fighting for his life because of her. No way was she hiding out in this plane. She yanked on the athletic shoes she’d taken from her suitcase earlier and tied them tightly. Slipping on her sunglasses she threw her shoulders back, daring the men to leave her behind.
“I’m ready.”
“Fine.” Noah’s jaw was clenched so tightly the muscles in his face were ridges. “Just do exactly as we tell you and nothing else.” He was out the door and down the steps before she could say a word.
Edgar directed her behind the plane where several dark green Hummers waited. She almost made a comment about the paramilitary business paying well until she remembered that was exactly why they were in Mexico. She clamped her lips together and let Noah assist her into the truck Edgar indicated.
“Exactly where are we, anyway?” That couldn’t be too prying, could it? She knew they were in Mexico. “I’m assuming we didn’t go through any kind of customs and immigration because we flew in under everyone’s radar.”
Edgar nodded. “We’re in the center of Chiapas, where several long sierras, or mountain rangers, bisect the state. They make an excellent location for clandestine facilities like drug and arms manufacturing. And Chiapas has a common border with the Pacific Ocean, so transporting goods, especially to the Middle and Far East is not a problem. The villages are so poor they eagerly work for the money people like your Paul Hunter and Kate Belden will pay them.”
“Any sign of them?” Noah asked.
Edgar nodded. “A small plane landed on the far side of this sierra not an hour before you did. The blonde-headed woman and the man with gray hair were seen walking into the factory with a few others.”
Noah cast a glance at Taylor. “I’d like to take them and the division manager, Jim Haskins, alive if possible and return them for trial. But you do understand that destroying the factory is our prime objective.”
“Yes.” She forced herself to show a calmness she didn’t feel. “Do whatever you have to.”
They bumped along through the low vegetation the massive vehicle riding smoothly over exposed roots and dead plants. Finally the lead Hummer turned abruptly into a thick undergrowth and the others followed.
“What’s happening?” Taylor asked.
“We can’t drive closer than this,” Edgar informed her. “We go on foot the rest of the way so we avoid detection. Guards and sensors are everywhere.”
“Stay here,” Noah ordered, turning to face her.
“You can’t…
“Oh, yes, I can. And I will. We know what we’re doing. You don’t, Besides endangering your own pretty neck, you might get some of these men killed if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
When she saw it was useless to argue she simply threw herself back against the seat.
“We’ll leave the keys in the Hummer. If you have to, take off and drive like hell. There’s a SAT phone on the seat up here so you can call Greg. He’ll find you wherever you are.”
Edgar pressed something cold into her hand. A gun. “The safety is off.” He pointed. “If anyone but one of us approaches, shoot at once. Don’t ask questions. Can you do that?”
She swallowed and nodded.
“Excelente, señorita.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Before you know it, it will be done.” He slid out of the vehicle.
Noah leaned over the back of his seat. “You heard what he said. Any doubts, just shoot.”
“Fine. Fine. Just go and do what you have to.”
Suddenly he reached and pulled her head toward him, his mouth burning into hers, his tongues sweeping the roof of her mouth, the soft insides of her cheeks and lips, his hands clutching fiercely at her head. When he pulled back they were both breathing heavily. He took one long last look at her, then was gone.
Time moved as if it had chains on its feet and was dragging them through the jungle. Outside Taylor could hear the screech and cry of a variety of birds and an occasional flash of color as one swooped through the dense greenery. The interior of the vehicle was stifling and for a moment she thought about running the AC, then decided against it. The engine would make noise and attract attention.
Another hour passed with no movement our sound whatsoever and her nerves were raw with anxiety.
I don’t care what they said, I should never have let them leave me here. Surely something should have happened by now.
At last, unable to bear the suspense one minute more, she opened the door and slid out, stretching her legs, the gun firmly in her hand.
“I wondered how many more bugs I’d have to let bite me before you climbed out of that monstrosity. The damned things are bulletproof and I didn’t think you’d be obliging enough to just open the door for me.”
The voice was like the knife edge of an ice cube only colder. Taylor whirled to see Kate Belden holding a gun firmly in two hands, a frightening mask of rage tightening her face. In khaki shirt and pants and a pair of jungle boots she looked every inch the female guerilla.
Taylor tightened her hand on her own gun but Kate shook her head.
“Don’t even think about it. I can kill you before you even get a sight on me. Drop it. Now.”
Taylor stubbornly held onto the weapon, her eyes never leaving Kate’s. Where were Noah and Edgar? She hadn’t heard any explosions, or even any gunfire? What were they waiting for?
“It’s over,” she told the woman in front of her. “You might as well quit while you’re ahead.”
“Over?” Kate’s laugh bordered on hysterical. “Too damned right it’s over. All because I had that stupid car accident and your damned father—or whatever the hell he was to you—had to go sticking his nose where it wasn’t necessary.”
“It’s his company,” Taylor pointed out in a voice she hoped sounded calmer than she felt.
“And it could have kept on being his company. Only a few more of us could have gotten rich along with him.” Her eyes flashed blue fire. “And now, since I can’t get back to my plane, you’re going to take me to yours and have your pilot fly me out of here.”
“Where’s Paul? Are you leaving without him?”
Kate snorted derisively. “That pussy. All I had to do was fuck him to get him to agree to anything. They can have him. Come on, Taylor. I can’t kill you just yet but I can make you wish you were dead. Drop the gun before I shoot it out of your hand.”
Taylor took a deep breath, made as if to drop the gun, then raised it to fire a shot. As she did she threw herself to the ground. She heard Kate screaming, another shot fired and the fires of hell raged through her body. At that exact moment, before her vision grayed and she fell into a black hole, she heard shouting, the chattering of machine guns and a series of powerful explosions.
She thought she heard Noah’s voice calling her name and felt his hands on her. Those marvelous hands that could carry her to incredible heights. She wanted to roll into his body and let it surround her, protect her and keep her safe.
Noah!
She tried to scream his name and beg him not to leave her, to stay with her. But the pain stole her breath. She tried to clutch at him but all she found was air.
Then she went under.
* * * * *
She wanted to wake up but the enormous pain gripping her kept pushing her back into the softness of unconsciousness. Fluffy clouds embraced her and protected her, a barrier against pain and unpleasantness. But whirling in the background were loud noises and voices shouting. The unpleasant memory of being moved and jolted made her cry out in her semiconscious state.
“I think she’s ready to wake up,” a strange female voice said. “I’m giving her some more pain medication because when she does she’ll hurt like hell.
Wonderful. Just wh
at I wanted to hear. Please just let me go to sleep again.
“There.” The same voice. “That should help a great deal. And the doctor will be in to check again very shortly.
Doctor? Why do I need a doctor? Why do I hurt?
A large male hand took her small one, fingers rubbing lightly against her knuckles. “Taylor? Come on, little girl. Wake up for me.”
Little girl? I know that person. I know him, know him, know him.
“Where’s that fire I’m used to? That kick-ass attitude? Are you going to just lie there for the rest of your life?”
“G’way. Leave m’alone.”
“You spoke. Excellent. Now come on, open your eyes. No! The voice raised a level. “Don’t go to sleep again, damn it. Wake up.”
Gritting her teeth she forced her eyelids upward. A man stood next to her, a blurry figure towering over her.
“That’s it, little girl. Come n. Don’t wimp out on me.”
Little girl again. Noah! Oh, god, Noah.
“I’m awake.” Her voice sounded like she was grating rocks.
He leaned over her and her vision cleared. There were those bottomless black eyes staring at her, only now they were red-rimmed with dark bruises beneath them. Lines carved trenches in his face and he had at least a three-day growth of beard.
“Welcome back to the living.” He was still holding her hand but he straightened up.
“Water,” she croaked. “Please.”
“Ice chips only.” He picked up a plastic cup from the bedside table and placed some tiny chips of ice on her parched lips. “Don’t swallow too fast. Your throat’s still pretty swollen from the breathing tube.”
Breathing tube?
She ran her tongue over her lips, licking the last drops of the melting ice. “Where am I?”
Noah’s face tightened even more, if that was possible. “You’re in a hospital. In San Antonio.”
“Hospital? H-How did I get here?”
“Very painfully. “He fed her a few more ice chips, then replaced the cup on the table. “We flew you back on the plane after the doctors in Mexico City got you ready.”
She closed her eyes again as broken memories danced through her brain. “I was shot.”
