The officer made a noise deep in his throat, his face a bit more ruddy than it had been a moment earlier. "I'm not—"
"Oh, here!" Jurdan returned his attention to the phone. "I'll get that number right now. You can talk to the lawyer himself. I haven't met him formally, but I understand he's efficient. Señor Haritz Zabala—you might be familiar with him?"
Jurdan, you little rat. Who knew you had that in you? Because at the lawyer's name, the officer had flashed a startled look, then quickly covered it up. He put a hand out to forestall Jurdan's progress with the phone, and then gave his chin a thoughtful rub. "We know how to reach the Doña's villa," he said. "We'll have a detective call to arrange a more convenient time for an interview."
"After Assumption Day," Jurdan suggested. "Things will be less hectic then, don't you think?" But he didn't quite put his phone away as the officer took out a notepad and asked Kimmer a few quick questions and tucked the pad away with another promise that they would be called. As he finally turned away, to Kimmer's keen eye, he was simply relieved that he'd avoided dealing with Haritz Zabala.
Jurdan hopped off the curb to open the passenger door for Kimmer. "You see?" he said. "All will be well. Now, may I drive you home?"
"The Guggenheim," she said, just to be consistent, and let him maintain his gallant pose long enough to close the door for her as well. But only long enough to get in on the driver's side. "Nice job! I was headed for some station time, for sure."
Jurdan presented her with his cheek. "A kiss, you think?" he said. "To thank me?"
"You get to keep your face," she said, "to thank you. And never mind the Guggenheim—that was for his benefit. Back to the villa is good. What the hell are you doing here, anyway? And where—?”
"Mr. Richard?" Jurdan shook his head. "I couldn't find him. I finally decided you needed the ride more than you needed Mr. Richard to provide it. I see I was right."
Kimmer fastened her seatbelt and slouched in the comfortable leather seat. "Just my luck to run into someone who got a glimpse of us yesterday." She hadn't thought they'd been seen at all. "I hope it doesn't become a problem with the Doña."
"Oh, never fear that. You will make a statement through her lawyer, answer a few questions at your convenience, and all will be over." He grinned, a roguish expression. "They will not want to deal with the infamous Haritz Zabala any more than necessary, you can trust that."
"We'll do what we have to," Kimmer said. "But I'd much rather do it as a protected guest of the Doña than some anonymous tourist."
Especially not as an anonymous tourist with suspiciously amazing reflexes, a fierce attitude, and a mystery weapon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHAPTER 7
Rio sat, legs dangling, on the villa's high rock retaining wall. Waiting. Watching the driveway and waiting.
Not to mention wondering.
What the hell was that all about?
On the surface, it had been a young woman—Larraitz, the girl from the kitchen who'd been flirting at him that morning—coming to his room with information. Or maybe to ask for help. Or looking for an easy Rich American Tourist ride out of her current life.
Or maybe just looking for sex.
Hard to tell.
He'd still been toweling his face dry when she pulled him out to the terrace—to its sheltered private nook at that—for a murmured conversation, words generously punctuated by those big brown eyes.
But...her English, not so good. His Spanish, not so good.
They muddled, and she grew more frustrated and cast more frequent glances at the entrance to the little nook, and in the end he knew only that she was concerned for the household in some way. He wasn't even sure she meant the Dwelling; he thought she probably meant the villa in general.
She'd mentioned Andoni Gandiaga; Rio got the impression it had something to do with politics. He got the impression there were disagreements between those of Basque and Spanish blood within the household—except he'd seen no sign of it, and Kimmer, with her wise eyes, hadn't so much as hinted at it.
And damn, she'd laid it on thick with the damsel in distress act. Touching his arm, imploring him with dark and tearful eyes, all but throwing herself in his lap. Take care of me and take me seemed to be the same language to her.
Not that he was immune to a pair of dark and tearful eyes, but—
Already taken, lady.
He finally told her that they—including Kimmer—would have to talk after he returned from his errand. She'd gotten impatient and angry, then, and flounced off. He could only shrug and head for the stolen goonboy car.
Which was already gone.
And no one knew anything about it. Jurdan might—but he'd headed out shortly after Kimmer, and no one was sure where or why.
And so here Rio sat, perched on a tall retaining wall, having refrained from banging his head against the same. He didn't know why Kimmer hadn't waited, but she was perfectly capable of ditching a car on her own. Just because the voice mail had picked up on her phone...
Doesn't mean a thing. Except, perhaps, that she continued her amazing string of bad phone luck—even with a Hunter-enhanced satellite special.
Waiting. Waiting waiting waiting.
Dammit!
The phone rang, breaking the countryside quiet. Small birds fled from the nearby bushes, a fluttering twitter of alarm. Rio fumbled the phone, but recovered and flipped it open without looking at the caller ID. "Kimmer!"
"Not quite." Owen's dry voice only raised Rio's concern. "Although I do carry a message. She would prefer that you hurry."
"Hurry? Hurry what?"
"Whatever you were supposed to do that you're not doing, I would imagine."
"I've fallen down a rabbit hole," Rio muttered. And then, no-nonsense, "Owen, where the hell is she?"
Silence. "You two doing okay over there?"
"We haven't had to do anything yet." And still...since they'd arrived at the villa, something had been off. Kimmer was edgy, even jumpy; their easy teamwork was skipping beats. "Owen, where is she?"
"Patience," Owen murmured. "I'm pulling up her phone GPS. She seemed to think you had her location. In fact, she quite pointedly expected to find you there."
"Rabbit hole," Rio said darkly.
"We were interrupted. She mentioned she'd have to talk her way out of a situation. Do you have any—?"
"Aurgh!" Rio said, voicing the word distinctly. "She's off dumping a car, not being in situations. Haven't you got that GPS magic done?"
"Working on it," Owen said, implacable. "Rio, she didn't sound overly concerned. Just impatient."
Right. Kimmer, in impatient mode. Already jumpy. Not known for diplomacy at the best of times.
Just perfect for handling a situation.
"She's on the move," Owen said. "She's—"
At the hint of motion on the long driveway, Rio stood on the rock wall, giving himself an impressive vantage point. "She's here," he finished for Owen. At least, that barely visible car approaching through the landscaped trees and bushes had better be her. But where had she gotten the car? And how—?
"Oh, hell," he muttered. Only one way to get those answers. "Talk to you later, Owen."
"I'll expect an update," Owen told him, and somehow managed to beat him to the hang-up.
Yeah. Me too. By then the car had pulled up the drive—a neat little Mercedes. It parked along the loop across from Rio, and he sat, pushing himself away from the wall to stick a solid landing, and trotted straight to the car. To Kimmer, sitting in the passenger side.
He opened the door before she did. "Where—?" he started.
"Where—?" she demanded—and then stopped short to narrow her eyes at him.
"You're okay," he said in relief, checking her over. She wore the same outfit she'd had on at breakfast, damn cute low slung jeans and a summer top snugged tight beneath her breasts and all hippy-flowing otherwise. No new bruises in sight, her short, often intractable hair still tamed by whatever she'd done t
o it that morning.
"You should have been there," she suggested, her tone acerbic. "You'd have known."
Jurdan emerged from the driver's side, took in the mood of the moment, and escaped around the end of the villa to the kitchen entrance.
It gave Rio time to take a breath. "You left without me."
She got out of the car, one clean motion that set her up only inches from him, looking up with still-narrowed eyes. "You sent word I should go." It wasn't an accusation. Not quite. There was still a question buried in there.
Or maybe a demand, as she added, "And I sent word back where I'd be."
He couldn't help his startled reaction. "You what?"
Kimmer responded instantly, rolling her eyes and giving him a not-so-gentle flat-handed shove on the chest before she walked away. Stalked away—although he knew immediately that he wasn't the one being stalked, just as he knew—he knew—she'd been left hanging without backup, and he deserved that shove no matter what.
Then she turned on her heel, looking back at him. "What," she said, her voice just expressionless enough to tell him of the anger brewing beneath, "delayed you?"
"Larraitz, from the kitchen," he told her promptly, seeing, too, that she was on the scent of something. "She seems to think there's some threat to...well, I'm not sure. She only knows us by our cover, so I don't know what she thought I could do, either. And she doesn't speak English, so I didn't find out."
"Larraitz from the kitchen, huh," she said. "I think Jurdan and I are going to have a little talk, yes I do. And then maybe that Larraitz—"
"Whoa," Rio said, marking her clear transition from Kimberly Haight to Kimmer in full hunting mode. "Chimera," he reminded her. "Under cover."
Kimmer brought her focus from her inner thoughts to his face in a startled glance—but she grew more thoughtful. "If our cover holds, why would she come to you at all?"
Rio spread his arms to indicate the magnificence of himself. "Because of my manly demeanor?" he suggested. "My obvious mastery of the world?"
She rolled her eyes again. "If I were closer—"
He gave her his best charming smile, and saw the corners of her mouth twitch. "Look, we got messed up, all right. But if someone did it on purpose, what did she or he-or they-hope to gain? As if you couldn't handle the car on your own?"
"The car's no problem," she said, with that feral little grin that never failed to catch his breath. "Think Raiders of the Lost Ark. It's lost in a warehouse of other parked cars at the airport." But the frown turned to a scowl. "The cop who recognized me from our little encounter yesterday...that's something else again."
Rio winced. "Ah, damn."
"Yeah," she said dryly. "Kimberly will have to make a statement to the cops. If it weren't for Jurdan, I'd be in cuffs right now." She turned to look at the villa, growing thoughtful. "As for Jurdan...he's the one who brought me the message that you'd be along. And he knows who we are. So him, I'm going to chat with."
"Easy does it, right?" He joined her in the middle of the drive—leaving her a little space, feeling the draw of her nonetheless. "It's too early to go barging around."
She cast him a sharp look, brows raised. Adorable, capable, deadly Kimmer. "I never barge," she informed him with a lofty air. She turned her intensity back on the villa and murmured distinctly, "I employ surgical precision."
Rio looked in the direction to which Jurdan had escaped, and gave an internal little shrug. You messed with her...you asked for it.
~~~
Kimmer grinned wickedly at Jurdan and brushed grass from her elbow, rolling her shoulders and settling her feet on the manicured lawn of the villa grounds. High clouds in blue sky above, the heat trickling down her back, the scent of roses on the breeze...she took a deep breath. Ahh, yes.
She looked at the astonished expression on his face and shrugged. You messed with me... "You asked for it."
Jurdan looked up at her from his current position, flat on his back on the lawn, sweat trickling down the side of his face. "This?" he said faintly. "I asked for this, particularly?"
She shrugged. "It's the best way to discuss the manner of my self-defense, don't you think?"
He made no move to get up. Not surprising; he must be getting used to the view. It wasn't the first time he'd seen it. Or even the second. "But I'm not learning anything."
"Ohh, yes you are." Kimmer held up her hand, ticked off a finger. "One: grass isn't as soft as it looks. Two: It's about the attitude, not the exact discipline. And three," she leaned over him, her voice gone soft and yet still edgy, "don't screw with me."
That got to him. He widened his eyes in puppy dog mode—an expression that might have done him good against some other woman.
Kimmer only gave him a grim little smile. He quickly rolled over to his knees, facing her right-side up. "What?" he asked. "This is to cause you trouble, yes? But I picked you up at the airport!"
She stood hipshot, turning her face to the breeze. She almost hoped he'd try to take advantage of her apparent inattention, to go for her. He certainly did owe her a good fall or two. She kept her voice flat. "Richard never sent me any message about being delayed," she said. "And he never received my message about going to the airport—the one you supposedly gave him." She turned on him then, pinning him with her gaze. "Didn't you think we'd find out? Or did you just think we'd be so stupidly angry at one another that we wouldn't talk about it?"
His jaw dropped. When it closed again, it was on a tight, angry mouth.
Ah. He hadn't known.
"Who?" she asked. "Who gave you the message? Who intercepted you on the way back?"
"I should have known," he muttered, and those dark eyes were no longer puppy dog at all. "Her English is not good enough to have heard what she said she did."
"She, who?" And then Kimmer frowned at him. "Richard had gone to his room. What was your she doing there? Was it Larraitz?"
At the look on Jurdan's face, Kimmer had to laugh out loud—short and hard, because the anger lingered, but now it was joined by obvious surprise. What do you think she was doing in his room? "Is everyone in this house going to come on to us?"
"Isn't that what you wanted people to think? Of your scandal?"
"Larraitz and I need to have a little talk, Jurdan."
He snorted. "Like this talk?" He shook his head. "I see your face, and I say no. This one is mine, Kimberly. She is the Doña's. I will talk to her first. She has big dreams of being someone else, somewhere else. But she'll see sense."
"Jurdan—"
"Señorita Kimberly. No." Suddenly implacable—and suddenly something else, too.
Kimmer saw it then. "You like her."
"I know her," he corrected her. Certainly true, and it showed to Kimmer's eye. But something else, beyond.
She's gonna break your heart, Jurdan. Kimmer didn't have to meet Larraitz to know it. Who suggested you come on to me? She's a user.
And it wasn't Kimmer's job to fix it. She had enough to fix here already—never mind that a simple conversation would tell her everything she needed to know about the girl, and more than it could possibly tell anyone else. She wasn't about to reveal that detail to Jurdan.
"Talk to her, then," she said shortly. "Then talk to me. I need to know if this was more than some silly schoolgirl trick to get Richard alone."
Richard. Rio. Even now, he was alone in her room with the laptop, studying the staff dossiers with his practiced spy eye—maybe he'd seen something that would give them a foothold here while they were in waiting mode. Waiting for gear, waiting for the Monaco crew...
She couldn't help herself. She grimaced. Waiting, and hobbled.
"I understand," Jurdan assured her, still on his knees in the grass, both shoulders of his white shirt stained irreparably green. "I would do nothing to interfere or even delay the protection of the Dwelling. If we don't have it done by Assumption Day—."
"Whoa. Wait." Kimmer closed her eyes, did a quick review of her memory. "Assumption Day. What—?"<
br />
He looked at her askance. "You aren't in the church."
"I'm not in your church," Kimmer shot back. "But we're not going there. Just brief me."
He opened his mouth, closed it, considered the ground and his grass stains, and took the safe route. "Ascension—Assumption Day—is in several days. It is a religious holiday, a feast day—a celebration of the day the Virgin Mary's body was assumed into heaven." He waited to see that she'd understood. Late to Christianity in this area, indeed, but heavily Catholic all the same. "It is also a national holiday. Andoni Gandiaga will be coming to San Antón to take mass; he plans also a reception." He gave her a look of shared significance, and then realized it wasn't shared at all, and sighed heavily. "Do your people not prepare you?"
"Let's just say we had very little time to prepare at all," Kimmer said dryly. She didn't add that they'd spent most of that time reading the staff files—innocuous as they were, or that Rio was going over those very files again. "Start with Andoni Gandiaga."
"Senator Andoni Gandiaga," Jurdan said, with an expression that told Kimmer he'd deliberately failed to offer the respectful title the first time. "Of the Basque Nationalist Party. But you have to understand...he's made some decisions lately...he—" And Jurdan broke off his words and clamped his mouth shut, jaw working.
"It's just information," Kimmer reminded him. "I'm not taking sides."
After a moment, Jurdan said, "He takes the stance lately that the Basque hurt themselves with their pro-nationalist drive. He feels that we are seen to be demanding special treatment, and that we then lose those who might otherwise support our views. He counsels patience—he suggests that we play along."
Kimmer gave a little cough. "I guess there's no question how you feel about the nationalist issue."
Jurdan looked so askance it was clear he couldn't imagine that she even joked about the subject. But he gave a sudden grin, ducked his head, and suddenly looked young and charming again. "It is of little matter. If he continues this way, he will not be re-elected. But with the mood of the people, to come here—on that day—to hold his receptions and smile his politician's smile...I think there is the potential for great unrest. And so I think it is good to have security for the Etxea in place by then."
Making the Rules Page 7
