So Nate would stay away from Alex out of respect for Jim Brady, if for no other reason. Should be easy enough since they were at each other’s throats most of the time anyway.
“Hey, Nate.” Walker waited at the bottom of the stairs. “Joe would like to see you in the living room if you’ve got a minute.” He continued on toward the kitchen.
Nate entered the living room, and Rayna approached him, giving him a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you. Thanks for letting us use your place again.” The pretty blonde was Ty’s girlfriend and just about the best thing that ever happened to him.
“No problem. How’s that mangy dog?” Six months ago, Rayna had been adopted by a dirty, half-starved stray that had been hanging around Nate’s house—a pit bull, no less. The dog had saved her life taking on a couple of cougars, earning himself a one-way trip to Montana and a new home.
Rayna’s eyes sparkled. “You wouldn’t recognize him. The cougar that gets in his way now won’t stand a chance.”
“Glad you two found each other. Speaking of finding people, where’s my former partner?” Nate scanned the room and located Ty standing with Joe.
“He and Joe are hatching some kind of a plan. Now that you’re here, maybe they’ll tell us what’s up.” Rayna turned to watch the two men.
Joe caught Nate’s eye and strode toward him. “Get any sleep?”
“About an hour.”
“Alex too?” Joe made the question sound innocent enough.
“She slept too.”
“Good. Let’s sit down and I’ll bring you up to speed.”
Nate took a chair across from Joe. Ty and Rayna sat together on a sofa close by.
“Sanchez called in this morning. Hostilities between neighboring cartels are heating up down there. Sanchez missed check-in last night because Diego Vasquez, the man who’s holding Marco, sent him and a contingency of foot soldiers north to the border to guard a shipment. They were ambushed just south of Nogales and had to shoot their way out. Sanchez didn’t sign on for that, and I want him out of there before he catches a stray bullet.” Joe’s concern was evident in his haggard features.
“According to Sanchez, Diego has taken good care of Marco, which means he hasn’t been touched by the other aspects of Diego’s business—yet. As you know, the boy was stolen from his mother eight months ago by Sean Phillips in order to force Maria to participate in his criminal activities, one of which was kidnapping Rayna from this house the last time we were here. Apparently, when Phillips negotiated with Diego to hide the boy, he made some insinuations that weren’t true and some promises he couldn’t possibly keep. Diego was under the impression Phillips, being a federal agent, had the weight of the U.S. government behind him and that there’d be a payoff for his efforts, either in cash or political favors.
“When Phillips dropped off the grid, Diego’s moles learned he was dead and couldn’t locate anyone else who was interested in retrieving the boy. Diego finally came to the conclusion he’d been played and would be getting squat for babysitting all those months. But that’s okay if you’re Diego Vasquez, because smuggling drugs and doing favors for corrupt federal agents is only part of your game. He can still sell that five-year-old kid and make his money back a thousand times over—which is what he intends to do. Sanchez said Diego has a buyer lined up, and Marco starts the journey to his new home on Saturday.”
Rayna inhaled audibly, followed by a muttered curse. Nate’s stomach churned threateningly as he tried to wrap his head around the insanity. No way in hell was that going to happen. “When do we leave?”
“Right away,” Joe said. “We’ll stagger our arrival in Nogales—go in small groups. Flying a U.S. military Huey in there will attract attention. No way around it. So Ty and Rayna will leave tonight, take a commercial flight into Nogales International, and check into a motel near the border—as Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock. They’ll be one possible exit strategy.” Joe paused and glanced at Ty.
Ty’s gaze swept to Nate. “You still like to camp?”
Nate shrugged. “Haven’t camped since Val left, but I’ve still got all my equipment.” Val had been his high school sweetheart and everyone, including himself, thought they’d be together for the rest of their lives. Two and a half years ago, she’d left him, unwilling to live with the uncertainty of being a cop’s girlfriend, much less anything more serious.
He raised a questioning eyebrow and looked back and forth between the two men, unable to shake the feeling he was missing something obvious. “I’m in. I don’t care what you want me to do, so let’s stop tiptoeing around. Okay?”
“The rest of us will take the chopper as far as Tucson this afternoon. Jim and I will make our way to Nogales and cross the border. I’ve got an old friend there who’ll put us up for a day or two. Walker will work his way across the border and stay out of sight until we need him.” Joe leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs.
“And . . .” Nate readjusted his hat. What could be so bad they didn’t want to tell him?
“I have a friend in Nogales—Special Agent Benjamin Greeley, FBI. He’s been investigating Diego’s activities for about a year and was instrumental in locating Marco. Ben has agreed to help in exchange for any information we can give him on Diego’s slave ring. He’ll arrange for the transportation we need. As soon as we land in Tucson, there’ll be two Jeeps and an RV waiting. You’ll take the RV and drive to Patagonia Lake for a couple days of camping, hiking, and fishing.
“If Marco is for sale, I’ll try to convince Diego to sell him to me. If that doesn’t work, we’ll have to hit them hard and fast, then decide the best way to get the kid across the border. Right now, I’m leaning toward using the RV. You’ll only have to get him as far as the border. Then use your badge and call in the U.S. cavalry if necessary. No one should suspect tourists in a gas-guzzling motor home, holding up traffic, of being the getaway car. Everyone will think it’s just you and your wife enjoying a little R and R.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. Wife?” Nate was pretty sure he already knew the answer, and Joe’s silent stare confirmed it. Considering how irritated she’d been with him when they left his bedroom, and how protective Jim Brady had acted when he’d seen them exit together—hell no.
“If you’re considering having Alex and me play house, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.” Before he got the words out, he sensed her watching him. “I mean, you don’t need me and Alex to team up. You’ve already got Ty and Rayna. They like each other. Hell, they practically are married. They’re perfect for the part.”
“That’s why the two of them are going in together. They’ll stay in a nice hotel, play the newlywed tourists, and be ready to transport Marco north if it falls that way.” Joe glanced toward the doorway, then back at Nate. “You know me. I like choices, and I’d really like to have both options available until we see how this goes down.” Joe paused and the room remained eerily quiet. “But, if you’d rather not, just say the word. We can always switch it up.”
A low murmur drew his gaze to the doorway. Alex stood between Walker and Jim. Body stiff, disappointment darkened her features as she pursed her lips and rubbed the palms of her hands against her legs. At least Jim should be happy with Nate’s assessment of the situation, but it was impossible to read his deadpan stare. The meaning of his I-warned-you smirk, however, was pretty clear. Shit! Nate couldn’t catch a break. He met her gaze, knowing he owed her an explanation, but Alex spoke first.
“I can do this.” Her voice was quiet and earnest as she searched Nate’s face. “I have to. Marco is waiting. Please give me a chance. You won’t be sorry.” She took a step toward him, then stopped and glanced at Joe.
“I’m sorry, Alex. It’s Nate’s call,” Joe said.
Nate studied her hurt expression and glanced at the bristling man beside her. Just what he needed. A knife-happy, unpredictable, emotiona
lly crippled partner with a bodyguard following her around, ready to beat the shit out of anyone who touched her.
He scowled. If he was honest, there was way more to his reluctance than that. His attraction to her was like a persistent itch—one he couldn’t quite reach, and it bugged the holy crap out of him. He was totally unprepared for the consequences of scratching that itch, yet her unique blend of strength and vulnerability drew him like no other woman ever had. He’d already screwed up, pushed too hard, and stolen a kiss she wasn’t ready to give. If they spent two days together in a motor home, Lord help them. He might as well figure on getting his ass kicked, physically and emotionally, because, sure as hell, he wasn’t coming out of this unscathed.
He turned toward Joe and resettled his cap on his head. A deep breath escaped, and he found Joe watching him. “Alex is with me.”
Surprise flitted over Joe’s face, and all Nate could do was shake his head. He didn’t know why he had to give her the chance she asked for or why he couldn’t stand the hurt that shone from her eyes. It didn’t matter why because he’d made up his mind.
Joe glanced at his watch. “Okay. Liftoff in two hours.”
Everyone headed for the door, including Nate, but Joe held up a hand that stopped him until the others had left the room. “I teamed you and Alex because you seem to work well together. The last time we were here, you coached her and she ended up doing a damn good job. The other night when she found you, she did what you asked her to do, right? She listens to you, but more than that—she trusts you. You appear to have a calming effect on her, but if you’ve got another take on it, now would be the time to speak your mind.”
Nate crossed his arms over his chest. He wouldn’t give two bits for any calming effect he might have on her, but, hell, he’d backed himself into that corner. It might end up being a mistake, but he wasn’t about to tell Joe the real story now. He heaved a sigh. “The last time you guys were here, Ty told me a little of Alex’s history. He said you pulled her out of a brothel in Hong Kong where she’d been held for years . . . that she was only a kid.” Nate’s body vibrated with rage at the image those words conjured in his mind. “He also told me she killed seven men the night you rescued her. True?”
Joe held his gaze for a moment before he nodded. “My team was pinned down. They would have picked us off one by one. She’s silent and deadly, so don’t underestimate her. In case you feel bad for any of those men she killed, I could tell you what they did to her—the things they made her do.”
Nate’s gaze drifted over Joe’s shoulder to where Alex talked with Rayna just outside the door. Rayna leaned toward her and wrapped an arm around her waist, and the corners of Alex’s heart-shaped mouth lifted in a tender smile. His anger slowly faded as his gaze followed her, replaced by respect and admiration for her hard-won independence. Her gold-flecked eyes, surrounded by long, thick lashes, made her beautifully exotic, but her regal bearing marked her as different . . . special. She was an amazing woman—having survived what likely would have brought most men to their knees. She deserved the freedom she’d earned. Possessiveness overrode his better judgment and pushed aside the balance of his reluctance.
“I don’t see a problem. Me and the Mrs. will be ready to go when you are.” He stepped around Joe and started toward the door, catching Alex’s attention and crooking his finger.
She straightened and braced herself as though expecting his wrath. Nate scowled. If they were going to spend four days in an RV alone together, something was going to have to change between them.
He placed his hand on her back and turned her to walk beside him. “Ever been fishing?”
“No.” Curiosity flickered briefly in her eyes.
Nate continued into the kitchen and out the back door to the deck. “You’re in for a treat. If we have time, I’ll teach you.”
Her pleased smile illuminated her face, tweaking the dimples in her cheeks, and jolting him somewhere deep down inside. When she smiled like that—like she really meant it—it wreaked havoc with his self-control. Still, he couldn’t help wondering what he could do to make it a more regular occurrence.
Nate opened the side door to the garage and led the way between his ancient Suburban and his Mustang until he reached the back wall and swung open the door to the storage room. When he glanced back, she was no longer behind him, and instead was trailing her fingers lightly over the right rear quarter panel of the Mach I.
She flushed when she caught him watching her. “You fixed it.”
“Good as new.”
She wrinkled her nose and cocked her head to one side. “Am I forgiven, then? Please?”
Nate laughed and shook his head, feeling the power of her plea over him . . . knowing he wouldn’t be able to refuse her anything if she asked like that. “Okay, forgiven, but I’m not letting you behind the wheel again. Not until I teach you how to drive, anyway.”
One of her warm, genuine smiles lit up her countenance again, and she stepped in front of him, her chin lifted so her eyes met his. “Thanks, Nate. I appreciate you trusting me enough to let me go with you.”
“The other part of that is you trusting me. Can you do that?”
“Sure.”
“Do everything I say—when I say?”
Although Alex didn’t move, he could almost see her retreat within herself. The idea of him telling her what to do obviously scared her. Knowing the basics of what she’d been through, he couldn’t blame her, but the trust issue wasn’t an option.
“Come here. Let’s get you set up to fish.” He dragged his gaze from her and stepped inside the storage room. Soon she was at his side again, and when he glanced at her, the excitement had returned to her expression.
He chose his two best rod and reel sets, making a mental note to purchase new fishing line. What he had was several years old, and he didn’t want Alex to hook a big fish and have her line break. They weren’t going on vacation, but if they were going to fish, they might as well do it right.
Twenty minutes later he had two small tackle boxes packed with the essentials. He started a pile that included his grate for cooking over a campfire, an old aluminum coffeepot and pan set, an axe, two flashlights, a lantern, and matching sleeping bags. They’d pick up the rest of what they needed once they got there.
Alex tried to help him with the fishing gear, but the first thing she did was lose a fight with one of his barbed fishing hooks and slash her finger. Blood flowed freely from the jagged cut.
Nate grabbed his first aid kit off the wall and knelt in front of her. “Let me take a look.”
“It’s just a scratch.” She held it out toward him anyway. Immediately, blood pooled on her hand, ran down her fingers, and dripped onto the floor.
“Damn. It’s bleeding pretty good. Definitely not a scratch.”
“Well, it’s not life-threatening.”
“That’s the good news.” Nate winked and then grinned when she smiled. “It’ll just take a minute to get you fixed up.” He slid his butt onto the concrete floor of the garage and opened the kit. Selecting a strip of gauze, he wrapped it around her finger, and held it tightly to stop the bleeding.
“I can do that.” Alex tried to push his hand out of the way and take over.
He stared her down. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.” She was about to bolt. He could feel it in the tense way she held herself. He sat beside her, his thigh leaning against hers. His closeness clearly made her nervous, and that was something he’d like to fix if possible.
“We should get going. Joe’s probably waiting for us.” Her gaze darted between Nate and the door.
“We’ve got plenty of time, Alex. What are you afraid of?” He unwrapped the gauze. The bleeding had stopped, and he searched in the kit for some antiseptic spray.
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Yeah? You said that the f
irst day we met. I didn’t believe you then either.” He sprayed the wound and wrapped a bandage around it, but continued to hold her hand. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with being afraid now and then.” He was ready for her and held on tightly when she tried to free her hand.
“Fear makes you weak. I won’t be weak again.” She tugged on her hand in earnest. “Stop that.”
“Not so fast. We need to have a little conversation.” He laced their fingers together and tipped her chin up until her eyes met his.
“About what?” Distrust was obvious in her furrowed brows.
“We’re going undercover as husband and wife. If you can’t stand for me to touch you, we’re not going to be very believable.” His thumb traced slow circles on the palm of her hand.
She trembled and tried to jerk out of his grasp again, but his fingers tightened around hers. “Lots of married couples don’t touch.” She snorted rudely. “If you think you’re going to manhandle me because of a pretend marriage, you’re seriously deluded.”
Nate shook his head. “I don’t manhandle women, sweetheart, but if I think our pretend marriage needs touching to be more believable, then I’m going to touch you. If it requires kissing to make it appear as though we’re madly in love, then I’ll kiss you—preferably without getting slapped.” He was pushing her on purpose. Maybe she hadn’t thought through what going undercover as a married couple would entail. Maybe she’d decide she wasn’t up for the job. Better she make that decision now than once they arrived in Nogales.
Her entire body leaned away from him, stopped from moving out of his reach only by the wall behind her. Her brown eyes darkened dangerously and went from distrust to trapped-and-ready-to-fight in the space of a heartbeat. She jerked on her hand again, and this time, Nate knew he might be pressing his luck if he didn’t let her go.
Whatever It Takes Page 5
