by Debra Webb
Before she could tell him that he’d dropped his money, he was already in brisk conversation with the man he’d called their contact. Erin glanced back to where the money had fallen. The children who’d greeted them when they emerged from the SUV were flocked around it now.
A slow, knowing smile slid across her face. He’d dropped the money on purpose. For the children. Erin turned back to the man still clutching her hand. Maybe Logan wasn’t as unfeeling as he wanted her to believe.
Maybe he was the real McCoy…a good-looking, fiercely loyal, all-American hero out to defend his country and all it stood for, determined to help her regain her freedom and see justice done.
Her smile drooped into a frown.
And maybe Santa Claus was real, too.
Chapter Five
Esteban’s compound—estate, he would call it—sprawled across a ridge overlooking the valley and the one incoming road. To the rear of the property, craggy cliffs dropped a hundred meters or so. Satellite photography had already allowed Mission Recovery to determine that it would be near impossible to enter the compound from the rear. From the front or the air would be the most plausible scenario, if an insertion team survived the unavoidable confrontation since there would be absolutely no cover. The long, unpaved driveway cut through acres of strategically cleared property, negating any possibility of a surprise attack.
In Logan’s opinion, men like Esteban didn’t deserve to live. The simplest way to rid humankind of parasites like him was to drop a smart-bomb and clear out the whole hillside. But then they wouldn’t know the one little detail that kept Esteban alive despite his numerous enemies and his horrendous trespasses against society as a whole—the man on the inside who gave him his information. That one little thing kept Logan’s people from surgically removing the cancer Esteban represented.
Logan didn’t want to think about the fact that this mole was almost certainly one of their own. An American in a high level position who was willing to sacrifice anything for the almighty dollar. He clenched his jaw, there would be plenty of time for garnering justice when they knew the guy’s name.
Bailey was too quiet, he decided, turning his attention to the more immediate aspects of the mission. He knew she was struggling to maintain a calm facade. Trying to see things the way she would, he surveyed ground zero as they bumped up the rocky drive behind their escort. High, secure walls encircled the house and grounds. Ivy had long since overtaken the better part of the massive stone structure surrounding Esteban’s private residence and command center. Ancient trees, obviously carefully protected from harm during construction, loomed tall over all else. The mansion was built of the same stone as the security wall, and topped with a red tile roof. Intelligence had estimated the house at twenty thousand square feet.
The guest house was across a wide quadrangle that served as a courtyard to the elegant house. Other smaller buildings, Logan could only guess at the use of, dotted the expansive, well-guarded property.
Case in point, the wide iron gates now opening to allow the two vehicles entrance. Once inside the compound, Bailey sat up a little straighter, peering at the opulent fountain and meticulously manicured grounds. Large windows and arched entryways gave the house the appearance of a grand hotel.
“I never expected anything like this,” Bailey said, equal measures of awe and surprise coloring her tone.
Logan braked to a stop several feet from the other vehicle and shoved the gearshift into Park. “Remember to watch what you say from this moment on,” he warned quietly. “The place is most likely wired inside and out.”
She nodded, eyes huge, fearful. Not for the first time since this whole thing began, Logan wished it didn’t have to be this way. It was far too risky. He could take care of himself, but Bailey—he let go a long breath—she was a rookie without the proper training.
A liability to the mission…and herself.
And the only hope they had of getting this done.
She swallowed tightly. He followed the movement of delicate muscle along the slender column of her throat. “I’m ready,” she said, her voice wavering just the slightest bit.
He knew he shouldn’t, but he just couldn’t help himself. He touched her. Reached out and stroked one soft cheek with his fingertips. “I owe you, Bailey.”
She sucked in an uneven breath and he had the sudden, nearly overwhelming urge to shove the SUV back into gear and drive away as fast as he could until he got her to safety.
A sharp rap on Logan’s window broke the spell he’d fallen into. “Come on, come on!” a deeply accented voice demanded. Cortez, their escort. “Didn’t you two get enough of that in Bermuda? Esteban is waiting!”
Logan pushed open his door and stood. He shrugged at the impatient brute glaring at him. “With a woman like this you never get enough.” He grinned at Cortez before striding around to Bailey’s side of the vehicle. “Ain’t that right, Baby?”
“Anything you say, Lover,” she purred as she cuddled up next to him.
Cortez growled something in Spanish that Logan didn’t quite catch, then led the way through the main courtyard and onto the rambling terrace. The place was even bigger than it had looked in the satellite photographs Logan had studied. Analysts had estimated the interior layout as best they could with nothing to go on but the exterior structure. It would be interesting to see how accurate their estimations were.
Bailey stuck close to him. He kept his left arm firmly around her. To make her feel more secure, he told himself. It had nothing to do with the way it simply felt right to hold her. He remembered Maverick’s warning. He had to use this distracting physical attraction to his advantage. And that’s all it was, basic biology…chemistry at best.
It wasn’t until they actually entered the house itself that Erin felt even remotely at ease. There was something about the dozen or so armed soldiers stalking the grounds that put her on edge. Esteban’s private army. She had to admit that they were the best-dressed soldiers she’d ever seen. Some sported elegant suits, and, of course, wicked looking machine guns. Others were dressed in desert camouflage, also possessing machine guns. Surprisingly, there was a pretty equal mix of Anglos and Latinos. She hadn’t really expected Esteban to put personal security in the hands of anyone other than his own people. But Logan had explained that every member of Esteban’s staff—security, as well as couriers—was handpicked. Well, at least, he was an equal opportunity employer.
She forgot all about security or anything else when their escort delivered them into the parlor. She’d known from the lavish exterior that the house would be beautiful, but she would never have imagined how beautiful. The arched doorways were repeated inside the house. The wide entry hall that had brought them this far was tastefully decorated and well lit by the expansive windows, which continued throughout the house. But, here in this room, it was the splendid artwork, exquisite paintings and lovely sculptures, that established the ambiance of richness, of pure elegance.
Esteban certainly had taste, if nothing else.
“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Wilks!”
A booming voice startled Erin from her avid interest in the décor. Fear, dark and foreboding, stole through her when she faced the man who could select art with such a discriminating eye and yet who thought nothing of killing hundreds, thousands maybe, with his illegal drugs and weapons.
He wasn’t as tall as Logan, but he looked fit for a man of forty. Gray peppered his short black hair and mustache, but his equally black eyes were crystal clear and far too seeing. Even had Logan not told her anything about Esteban, Erin knew instinctively that this man was to be feared.
Logan extended his hand. “Senor Esteban, we appreciate your hospitality.”
He shook Logan’s hand, but quickly turned his formidable attention to Erin. “I trust the two of you enjoyed your time in Bermuda?”
Erin resisted the urge to move closer to Logan under the man’s fierce analysis. He looked at her like the men in the cantina had, as if she was his for the t
aking. He made no attempt to hide the blatant sexual hunger in those black eyes.
“We loved every minute of it, didn’t we, Baby?” Logan pulled her close against him.
Whether the move was simply to lend credibility to his act or from instinct that she needed him to do it, Erin couldn’t say. She was just glad Logan had done it.
Esteban’s gaze landed on Erin once more. “You changed your hair.”
The statement sounded far too much like an accusation for her comfort. She searched for the right response, but came up empty.
Esteban suddenly smiled wolfishly. “I like it.” He turned to Logan, his expression all business now. “We have much to discuss. Cortez will take your lovely wife to Sheila, another of my guests. Sheila will show her around and assist in settling the two of you in your quarters.”
“Sounds good.” Logan dropped a quick kiss on Erin’s forehead. “Be good, Baby.”
He released her then and, without a backward glance, followed Esteban from the room. Leaving her completely alone with an armed stranger.
“This way, Baby,” Cortez urged, his tone mocking.
Her heart pounding, her palms sweating, Erin ignored his remark and followed him back into the entry hall. Outside, he wound around the house to the east side. The generous terrace, its timeworn pavers lending a gracious antiquity, completely encompassed the house with wide French doors leading into the bordering rooms. She tried not to wonder where they were going…or what would happen when they got there.
Just up ahead the first woman Erin had seen in the compound sat in a thickly cushioned chair at a patio table beneath a huge tree. The tree shaded the area beyond the terrace and dappled light over the woman whose full attention, Erin noted as she neared, appeared to be focused on the long, slender cigarette in her hand. Thank God for small favors, Erin mused. She’d be much more comfortable in the presence of another woman. Especially one who didn’t appear to be armed.
Cortez glanced at the seated woman with blatant disdain. “Esteban said to show her around.” He promptly did an about-face and left.
Sheila shot Erin a look that was about as friendly as a pit bull. “So you’re the new girl, huh?”
“That’s right.” Without waiting to be asked, Erin settled into one of the chairs facing her. Erin had the distinct impression an invitation would not have been forthcoming. Up close, this woman—Sheila—looked every bit as mean and cutthroat as the armed guards. After further consideration, Erin was pretty sure Sheila wouldn’t need a gun to do damage. Her long, blood-red nails and hate-filled eyes looked plenty lethal all on their own.
Sheila stubbed out her cigarette and glared at Erin. “Just remember that I was here first. Rank has its privileges. Don’t you go thinking that just because you’re new that you can move in on my territory.”
Erin frowned, hoping to look innocent rather than confused. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”
That only seemed to infuriate Sheila all the more. “I’m Esteban’s favorite.” She smiled, an exceedingly unpleasant gesture. “Other than his own sister, I’ve been the only woman living here for over a year. Don’t go thinking your presence is going to change anything.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “You won’t last a week,” she predicted.
The distant hum of fear in Erin’s ears didn’t help. Thankfully she managed to maintain a fairly calm exterior. “Great ring,” she said, instead of arguing with the woman. Changing the subject seemed prudent and Erin couldn’t help noticing the large rock on Sheila’s left ring finger when she started waving her arms around. The narrow accompanying gold band was rather plain next to the huge diamond.
“You’re married?” Erin went on. Whoever was saddled with this Class A bitch surely lived a life of misery. Then again, considering the sort hanging out around this place, the two probably deserved each other.
“Of course.” Sheila adopted a smug face. “His name is Larry. You’ll meet him eventually.” She patted her thick auburn tresses. “He has a thing for redheads.” She glowered at Erin. “Your color job sucks. I hope you didn’t pay the moron who did it.”
It wasn’t until that moment that Erin realized how well she’d fooled them all. They’d all seen Jess’s picture or maybe they’d even seen her in real life, sans the introductions, of course. And not one of them suspected that Erin wasn’t Jess. That blond was her natural hair color. Logan’s plan had worked!
The epiphany shook her just a little.
Erin shrugged. “I decided I wanted to see if blondes really did have more fun.”
Sheila rolled her eyes. “You really are stupid, aren’t you? Do you really think blond hair is the only criteria for seducing a man like Esteban?”
Before Erin could think of an appropriate comeback, Sheila pushed to her feet, an amazing accomplishment in Erin’s opinion considering the woman’s short skirt was tight enough to cut off the circulation to her legs.
“Come on,” Sheila ordered. “I’ll give you the grand tour. Though I doubt you’ll last long enough to need it.”
Erin followed her, wondering if she really looked that innocent and how Sheila walked in those shoes. Her red hair bounced around her shoulders and every so often she tossed her head so it flew around like a wild horse’s mane. Erin decided that Sheila did that little number whenever they passed a group of guards just to get their attention. Not that it was really necessary. The woman was fashionably tall and had one of those model thin figures. Erin, on the other hand, was kind of short and not exactly fat, but she did have some meat on her bones.
She absolutely hated these too-snug jeans and the cropped top. But she had to stay in character. That was her job. It would keep her alive and help regain her freedom.
“This is the guest house,” Sheila explained disinterestedly as they approached a small two-story building. It looked older than the house. The ivy-covered stone lessened its ominous appearance. “You’ll bunk here,” Sheila added as she opened the door.
Inside, a wide stairwell led up to the second floor. Two doors flanked each side of the stairwell, downstairs and up.
“This one’s yours.” Sheila gestured to the first door on the right, then walked over and opened it. “Your bags are already here.”
Erin followed her inside and, sure enough, the two duffels were lying in the middle of the floor. She knew instantly that they had been searched. The careless lumps and bulges left by the search were hard to miss.
“Most of the security guys live in the barracks.” Sheila walked over to the front window and pointed across the backyard. “There’s ten. You’ll meet them all at one time or another around the dinner table.” She turned back to Erin, arms folded over her store-bought bosom. “Esteban insists we eat together as often as possible. You’ll find he has a few other quirks, but I’ll let you discover those for yourself.”
Sheila started toward the door. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I’m upstairs and across the hall, front apartment.” At the door she turned back to Erin and studied her for one endless beat. “I don’t like you, Baby,” she all but ground out. “Stay out of my way and we’ll get along just fine.”
She slammed the door behind her.
Erin exhaled a shaky breath. She’d been here barely half an hour and she’d made an enemy already. And, wow, what a grand tour.
She peered out the window and for the first time allowed all that she saw to sink in. A couple of guards paced the eastern perimeter of the house, their lethal machine guns swinging from shoulder straps. A turret of sorts jutted above the rooftop on the west side of the house. It didn’t take a military strategist to figure out that it was a security station. From that level one would be able to see for miles out over the valley below. Esteban would know of any unexpected presence ten or fifteen minutes before anyone arrived at his gate.
More guards were stationed at the massive gate. Everyone inside these walls was, in effect, a prisoner. The walls immediately began to close in around he
r. She hugged herself and squeezed her eyes shut, fought the fear and the vertigo that always accompanied one of her bouts with claustrophobia. She battled the urge to run out the door. No wrong moves, Logan had said. Appearances were everything.
Erin took long, deep breaths until she got the wave of panic under control. When the shakes had subsided she opened her eyes once more. All she had to do was keep it together. Logan would take care of the rest. She didn’t actually have to do anything at this point…just keep up the appearance of the loving wife. A new kind of shiver rushed through her at that last thought, but she stiffened her spine against it.
She had work to do. Putting the reality of her circumstances out of her mind, she decided to familiarize herself with their temporary living quarters. She could unpack and then maybe take a walk around the grounds if it was permitted. She hadn’t thought to ask Sheila about that. Maybe she’d just ask one of the guards. Avoiding Sheila felt like the wise thing to do.
In the main room, there was a large, overstuffed sofa and matching chair, a couple of tables and one painting. A television and DVD player occupied one corner of the room, while a bookcase with, unbelievably, a number of hardback books on its shelves filled the other. Between the two was an adobe fireplace that made the room cozy and even welcoming. Erin almost muttered something negative, but caught herself. Logan had warned her that their room would likely be bugged. She suddenly wondered if there would be cameras, too. She shuddered at the possibility. This little adventure might turn out to be worse than prison.
An efficiency kitchen and small dining room lay beyond the front room. There was nothing spectacular about either, simple and neat. She opened a few cabinet doors and then the fridge. Well stocked, she noted with surprise.
She located the bathroom and bedroom next. The bathroom was a bit more luxurious than the kitchen. There was a large whirlpool tub and a huge walk-in shower. The bedroom, though certainly comfortable enough, had only one large bed. She sighed and dropped onto the foot of it. She and Logan were supposed to be man and wife. She glanced at the narrow gold band on her left ring finger. Except she wasn’t sure she could deal with sleeping in the same bed with him. Then again, it wasn’t like she could refuse. It would look strange, and they couldn’t risk that.
