Secrets and Lies

by Selena Montgomery

Her pocket began to buzz and Kat fumbled inside for her forgotten cell phone. She glanced at the name on the screen and flipped the cover open eagerly. “Shelby?”

  “The one and only.” In Miami, Shelby Daniels reclined on a bed piled high with pillows, her foot propped on one as she painted her toes. She cradled the phone against her shoulder and sipped at her second white tea of the morning. “I called the hotel yesterday, but they said you’d checked out. I thought you were in Canada until next week.”

  “I decided to take a detour.” Kat saw a fallen log and lowered herself, squinting against the sun. She desperately wanted to tell Shelby the truth, but caution had her hedging her story. “I’ll be out of touch for a week or so. I probably won’t be able to answer the phone again until I get back.” Until Kat knew for certain who was after the Cinchona, it was probably safer to limit her contact with anyone close to her. But she needed the familiar, if only for a brief moment. “How are you? How was the audition?”

  “I got a call back, but we’ll see. Lyssa Weaver is also up for the part, and you know how much directors love the way she can disappear by turning sideways. God, I’d love to strap her to a gurney and force-feed her ice cream.” Shelby scowled, then relaxed her forehead deliberately. She had another screen test that afternoon, and every wrinkle showed. “I can’t wait until fluffy hips are back in.”

  Kat smiled, familiar with her next line. “I heard a rumor they were coming back this fall.”

  “You lovely liar, you.”

  “Can you stop by my house and water my orchids?”

  The request reminded Shelby of Kat’s earlier pronouncement. “Wait a second. You decided to take a trip on a whim?” Her dearest friend hadn’t had an impulsive moment in all of her thirty-two years. This was the same woman who had planned a detailed itinerary for their senior spring break trip that included the numbers for all local police stations in Jamaica and the quickest route to the embassy. Intrigued, concerned, Shelby probed, “Did you meet a dark, handsome stranger and decide to elope?”

  “Not exactly,” Kat muttered. “But close.”

  “Close?” As a woman who made her living in sound, Shelby was alert to nearly every nuance in Kat’s voice. She could hear tension, sadness, and a husky note that had her capping her polish and sitting up straight. “What is going on, Kat?”

  “Nothing. I finished my lecture series early and decided to take a trip to clear my head.”

  “Clear what out of it?”

  “Cobwebs. Thoughts.” Casting about for a good excuse, she added, “Alan Granger.”

  Shelby pounced. “Alan? You two broke up three months ago. And you did the breaking. I believe your exact words were that he was as predictable as allergy season and half the fun.”

  “He was a good man.” Solid. Dependable. Mildly handsome without being overwhelming. Nothing at all like Sebastian, with his fluid morals, dangerous eyes that saw everything, and a sinful mouth to make her forget herself. “Dark, handsome strangers are overrated.”

  The note of exasperation came across the phone clearly, and Shelby demanded, “Where are you, Kat? Do you need help?”

  Annoyed by her slip, Kat replied quickly, “I’m okay. Really. I’ve got some family business to take care of, and I had to do it now. I’ll be home next week.” I hope. Assuming I survive until then. But she kept the fears inside her head and forced a light tone into her voice. “I just have to finish up a project, then I’m back.”

  “Kat, you’d tell me if something was wrong, huh?”

  Lying to her best friend for the first time in twenty years, Kat replied, “Absolutely. Now get off the phone, finish painting your nails, and break a leg. Love you.” She pressed the end button before she was tempted to say more.

  A glance at the time showed that she had to hurry if she was going to make Sebastian’s deadline. Even after only a day in his presence, she had no doubt he’d make good on his threat. She scrambled off the log and ran along the path, oblivious to the rising heat. As she jogged, she thought about the choices she had to make. For now, she’d keep her deal with Sebastian and use his help to figure out what she was supposed to do with the real Cinchona. He’d told her not to trust him, and she wouldn’t. But for now, she’d have to rely on him to survive.

  Survival was her primary objective. And for once, she had no idea what would come next.

  Chapter 5

  Sebastian remained stretched across the cavern floor, watching as Katelyn hurried out of sight. Bright sunlight broke through the murky interior, scuttling the night creatures to their hiding places. The night’s rain had washed the valley clean, leaving behind the ripe smell of piñon to tease the senses.

  Normally, he would have tailed her to find out what she was hiding, but he didn’t move. In the first place, their brief romantic tussle had him hard and ready and in no shape for a hike. Plus, he was fairly certain the little liar had hidden the real Cinchona away in some niche in the mountains and needed to retrieve it. When she returned in twenty minutes—and he was certain she would—her pack would be heavier, and she’d shield it like a mother bear protecting a cub. He’d gotten his last look inside her belongings for a while, but the aftermath had certainly been worth it.

  Yes, he determined with a slow nod, she was hell-bent on going out alone because the diary he couldn’t read wasn’t the Cinchona manuscript. After she’d fallen into a fitful sleep, he’d used his palm light to pick through the good father’s ramblings. The tales of Spanish conquest had been mercifully vague on details but starkly clear on results. The Incans had been slaughtered from Ecuador to Peru, or conscripted into Pizzaro’s army. Borrero hadn’t found his new occupation as a junior conquistador compatible with his holy orders. Sebastian had waded far enough into the text to learn about Borrero leaving the order and wandering into the Bahian jungle.

  That was the second time Kat woke up weeping. When he tried to offer comfort, like the first time, she tried to evade him and go outside. He thwarted that, and instead, she crawled back into her sleeping bag, the intermittent shudders his only signal that she didn’t sleep. Part of him felt guilty for keeping her inside, but he didn’t have many options. And she’d come out of the night as feisty as ever.

  His erstwhile partner had survived the kind of trauma that drove grown men to their knees. Shaking his head, Sebastian stood up. Katelyn Lyda was definitely one of a kind, as strong inside as she looked from the outside. Grief had been redirected, fueled into a righteous indignation, and a passion that found its echo in him.

  He needed to know more about her, he realized. His easy, last hurrah had been transformed into a tangled mess, with Dr. Katelyn Lyda at the center of it all.

  When he was finally able to move, he strolled to his gear and removed the PDA that he’d linked to his throwaway account. He depressed the power button and waited for the little antenna to show him his mail. Soon, though, he discovered that accessing a server in the mountains of Bahia was no mean feat, and tucked inside a cave, the unit lost its signal.

  He wandered out to the ledge, eyes scanning the scenery. Movement in the trees below had him craning forward, only to realize the figure was a grazing deer, not Kat.

  With her speed and stamina, she was likely miles away by now, recovering the Cinchona from wherever she’d concealed it. Come to think of it, she’d probably hidden the manuscript from him while she watched his truck climb the mountains.

  If he’d been in her position, he’d have left the papers secreted away until he’d shaken her loose. But with the sudden rains in this part of the country and her surprise partner, the smart move was to take the Cinchona with them. And the lady was plenty smart enough to know he’d be an excellent bodyguard as she took the manuscript somewhere into the wilds of Bahia. She had a mission she didn’t intend to clue him in on, but she thought she’d manipulate him into helping.

  Sebastian grinned at the young woman’s cunning. Clever plan, he conceded. It’s what he would have done. Turning away from the ledge, he ree
ntered the cave and sat cross-legged on the hard floor, back against the wall, body out of sight from an intruder.

  Slowly, he drummed a tattoo on his raised knee. What he hadn’t figured yet was whether the Cinchona truly led to a king’s ransom or not. Tales of an Incan mine filled with gold whose secret had been squirreled away in a priest’s manuscript were fantastical. But what he’d seen of the diary gave her story credence. Borrero spoke of a treasure worthy of kings. In the sixteenth century, only gold commanded that kind of panegyric. And it explained Helen’s urgency to recover the Cinchona. He rarely followed the market, but her company, Taggart Pharmaceuticals, was reeling from a bad drug that had made it to market and made millions of users violently ill.

  A fortune in gold would go a long way to covering Helen’s pretty ass.

  If Katelyn was telling him the truth, there was nothing in his contract that said he couldn’t find the gold himself. All through the night, the plan had appealed to him more and more. Spend four days traipsing through the Andean mountains with a smart, beautiful woman whose layers seemed to have layers. Find the gold, figure out the woman, get the manuscript, and make it to the airport in time to catch the red-eye to New York. His client would get her Cinchona, and he would jet off to Bimini to start spending his loot.

  Perhaps he’d convince the mystifying Katelyn to join him, he mused. Sebastian drew his denim-covered legs into his chest and draped his arms across, elbows jutting into the quiet, shadowed space. Figuring her out would take some time, but he had a suspicion she’d be worth the effort. Obviously, Katelyn wasn’t a pro—he could tell that much from her rookie mistake of leaving the gun behind.

  Plus, finding her sitting in the rain, her face wet with tears, had moved something inside him. Something familiar and alien—the urge to comfort and protect, to soothe away her grief and assuage her guilt. He’d resisted the compulsion to join her in her bedroll simply to hold her last night, too aware that beneath the desire to comfort was a very male interest in the lovely scientist.

  Though she had yet to tell him any more about herself, he fathomed that she spent her time thinking for a living. There was the telltale groove that appeared between her almond-shaped eyes as she contemplated her next move. The preternatural ability she had to predict the weather. Her ease with the terrain and her well-stocked hideaway in the cave. And the notebooks he’d found riffling through her belongings. The pages of graph paper recited formulas and referenced chemical compounds and some genus of plants he vaguely recognized. Definitely a scientist.

  Probably a naturalist, given the gorgeous, fit body. As they bedded down last night, he’d had more time to examine his new partner. Her nimble, lushly curved form had the type of strength that did not come from hours aerobicizing or running on a treadmill. Her fitness climbing the mountains spoke of a life spent outdoors. She had stamina and grace and an allure that had made sleeping nearly impossible.

  Instead, he’d perused the notebook he’d found, when he couldn’t make sense of the diary anymore. According to her notes, she was trying to prove that some plant did something that pharmaceutical companies were eager to create artificially. He didn’t understand most of her analysis, but there was enough to get the general drift. The notebook had him wondering once again why Felix Estrada had summoned his niece to Canete.

  When he would have woken her to interrogate, Sebastian found he couldn’t. She’d slept fitfully, probably exhausted by her bout of tears and the crash that followed a rush of adrenaline. In repose, the stunning face settled into a serene beauty that echoed her heritage of African and Latino ancestry. A mélange of features that had culled the best of both worlds.

  Of course, when she awoke this morning, he’d been struck by the fierce determination that fired her bravado as she bargained with him. She had an ulterior motive for wanting his help. Sebastian had less than a week to accomplish his task, and he had no issues with spending four days traipsing around Bahia with a lovely and suspicious Kat.

  Particularly one who could kiss like she did. He shifted, desire returning in a flash of memory. Hell, it had been a while since a single kiss had rocketed through him like that. A frown furrowed between his brows and, never one to lie to himself, he admitted silently that his reaction to Kat’s kiss had never happened before. Ever.

  He respected women. Adored women. Enjoyed the mystery of steel and satin that was the essence of the sex. His best friends were of the fairer gender, and God bless his mother for her infinite supply of patience and bail money.

  Sebastian loved women, and they shared a fondness for him. But never had one so quickly spun him into heat and oblivion. Not until Dr. Katelyn Lyda. He could still taste the mixture of fascination and fear that clung to her. And the grim determination to avenge Felix’s murder. He had to admire her and her attempts at subterfuge. She was playing in a dangerous game she barely understood, and so far, she was holding her own. In another life, if he were a different sort of man, she was a woman he could fall for easily.

  In this life, though, she was the woman he was about to swindle out of her uncle’s dying bequest.

  With an ease of movement that spoke of his time scaling less arduous terrain than mountains, he gained his feet. He’d conducted a swift search last night to yield the diary, her wallet and stuff, and her notebooks. While she ran her errand to retrieve the Cinchona, he would inventory the rest of their supplies.

  The cave had been laid out with the rations used by experienced hikers who spent days away from civilization. Water, trail mix, and dried foods were neatly stacked near the bundle of sticks that could be quickly set to burn. A camp stove lay disassembled, a trio of metal sticks that appeared to expand into a tripod. Her sleeping bag was obviously well used, its army green pockmarked and worn. The lantern had a trimmed wick, and it rested beside a wide-mouthed flashlight that could cut through gloom with ease.

  Then there were the books. Sebastian reviewed the spines, a mix of fiction and academic treatises on the medicinal uses of certain native plants. Five volumes had been tucked into her second bag, which held a few changes of clothes. Pairs of khaki hiking shorts and tops of faded color nestled against more filmy items that captured his attention. Dr. Lyda preferred silk and lace beneath her sturdy gear, he noted with a contemplative smile. Another of her intriguing contrasts.

  “Why the hell are you pawing my underwear?” The tense accusation came from the opening of the cave.

  Sebastian glanced up, his broad hand closed around a wad of pink silk. Kat stood in the shaft of sunlight, arms akimbo, eyes flashing. His duffel bag at her side. He smiled, unconcerned about the livid glare she aimed at him. “Thanks for bringing my things.”

  “Answer my question.”

  “I’m investigating you, Dr. Lyda. Trying to figure out exactly who you are.”

  “By rummaging through my underwear?” She hurried into the room. Sebastian knelt on the ground near her bag and didn’t move. The man had no shame. Embarrassed and irritated, she squatted down to snatch the fabric from his hands. It was of no consequence that she’d done the same thing to him at the truck. She hadn’t been caught. “If you want to know something about me, just ask. Stay away from my things.”

  “You decided to leave me here alone. Your mistake.” She snagged his wrist, and Sebastian released the pink bra with its lacy border. “Pretty.”

  Kat started to rise until she realized that he continued to sift through the duffel bag’s contents. “Cut it out.” She reached for his wrist again to halt his search. Smooth muscle and sinew shifted beneath her grip, the skin warm and strong, and she nearly jerked away. The sweet ache she’d thought to have run off during her trek returned with a vengeance. Because she wanted to hold on, she let go. Instead, she turned her head, which was only a breath away from his, and hissed, “Stay away from my belongings.”

  Sebastian missed the feel of her cool fingers against his skin. Angling his head to watch her, he offered, “We’re partners, Kat. And I don’t work with people I
don’t know.”

  “Going through my underwear won’t tell you anything important.”

  “To the contrary, darling. I already know a lot about you. You have five books with you but only three changes of clothes. Which means you didn’t plan to be here very long, but you don’t take chances on being bored.” Sebastian lifted crimson pan ties designed to make a man beg. “This tells me that despite the rugged life you lead, you have a sensual streak and excellent taste.” He murmured the last, his voice a low ebb of sound.

  Her stomach tightened, and Kat found herself drifting toward the lure of Sebastian’s voice. Abruptly, she realized what was happening and pulled herself back. “Stop touching my stuff!” Kat shoved the bag away from his hands. “Do you have any respect for privacy?” she demanded tightly.

  “In my line of work, privacy is overrated.” Realizing that he had pushed her far enough, Sebastian rose to his feet. Katelyn shot up beside him, anger flushing her caramel skin. The crown of her head skimmed just below his nose. An unusual but alluring match in height that he rarely encountered. “You are quite tall, aren’t you?”

  Katelyn resisted the urge to hunch her shoulders as she had growing up. Instead, she squared them and tilted her head back to meet his eyes. Around them, the air had grown heavy and still, no breeze coming in from the mountains. “So are you,” she retorted.

  “That I am,” he agreed softly. Something arced between them, and Sebastian recognized the feeling. Pure, sweet desire. But they were on a rushed schedule, and any exploration of Katelyn would take several luxurious hours, hours they could ill afford. Grappling for slippery control, he offered wryly, “And I’m starving. Is that something else we have in common?”

  In response, her stomach rumbled, the sound amplified by the cave. Unsteady, intrigued, she could only smile ruefully. “I think so.”

  “Good. That’s something we agree on.” He folded his arms across the black T-shirt. “One for one.”