by Cindy Dees
Taylor turned and raced for the back bedroom. It was darker in here and he paused for a second to let his eyes adjust. His heart slammed against his ribs as a husky shadow loomed outside the window. He froze beside the remains of an old bunk bed. He had no cover to speak of, but if he was perfectly still, maybe the guy wouldn’t see him.
A fist punched through the rotten wood of the window frame. A pair of shoulders came through the window, the silhouette of a rifle barrel sticking up. Taylor struck with the speed of a cobra. He brought his pistol down on the base of the guy’s skull as hard as he could. The body sagged, limp and motionless, draped over the window sill. He plucked the shotgun out of the guy’s hands and moved to the doorway, pausing to check the darkened main room for movement. Nothing. He glided into the room, his back against the wall, clearing the space again. Still nothing. Where in the hell was Four Eyes? It had gone quiet outside.
His mind raced. Did that mean all the guards were down, or that whoever was out there trying to rescue him had been taken out? Now what was he supposed to do? Devereaux’s training course didn’t cover what to do in this situation.
“Taylor?” a voice murmured.
He sagged in relief. “That you, Amanda?” he murmured back.
“Yeah. You clear in there?”
“Four Eyes went down in here somewhere, and may or may not be neutralized.”
A flashlight beam swept across the floor from the doorway. Taylor’s hackles went up. There was no sign of Four Eyes at all except for a broken pair of spectacles on the floor.
“Is he armed?” Amanda asked tersely.
“I don’t think so. He dived for his briefcase, but I got the pistol out of it.”
She called out low over her shoulder, “Harry, do a perimeter check. There’s one hostile on the move, probably unarmed. But don’t take any chances.”
“Harry Trumpman?” Taylor repeated in disbelief.
“The very same,” Amanda replied. “You can come out now, by the way. All the other hostiles are down.”
Taylor pushed away from the wall. His legs felt like limp noodles. Jesus H. Christ. His heart was pounding like a jack-hammer. He moved to the front door and out on to the porch. Amanda stood there, an Uzi slung over her shoulder as casually as a handbag, a pistol gripped in her right hand. He stepped forward and wrapped her, weapons and all, in a bear hug. Her arms came up around him and she returned the embrace fiercely. They stood in the silence and dark like that for several seconds.
She mumbled, “We need to help Harry check the perimeter and mop up this mess.”
“You’re right,” he sighed into her hair.
Their arms fell away from each other, and suddenly the night air felt cold. Taylor shivered briefly and bent down to pluck the Uzi from the dead hands of the guard sprawled on the porch beside him.
“That thing’s got to be about out of ammo,” she commented. “He laid on the trigger like a movie star in a bad war flick.”
He grinned at her. “Yeah, but the bad guys won’t know it’s low on lead, and I feel better having it. It’s been one of those kind of nights, you know?”
She grinned back. “Why, yes. Yes, I do know.”
But Amanda wasn’t grinning the next day as she stood on broiling tarmac, as two American military planes taxied up to a cluster of people through waves of shimmering heat. The pair of turboprop King Airs parked side by side and the engines shut down. Silence, broken only by the sound of the wind brushing through the grass, settled once more. The planes were plain white with a thin black stripe for trim. They looked like generic-brand groceries. Air Force, then.
A phalanx of U.S. government agents flanked her, and Taylor stood some thirty feet away, surrounded by his own cadre of guards. The two of them weren’t under arrest, compliments of Devereaux’s string pulling, and the fact that they’d acted purely in self-defense in killing and maiming the goons last night.
Four Eyes had gotten away.
Not that this was the biggest problem on her list at the moment. A search of the bodies revealed that the dead men were all Eastern European in origin. And none of them had shown up on Devereaux’s computer file of government agents. They’d been private operators. Mob. What were they doing tangled up in this mess? Her head fairly ached with the possibilities.
And then there was the U.S. government. Harry made it clear that Uncle Sam hadn’t been interested in mounting any sort of search for her and Taylor right away. While kidnappings and cash ransoms were common down here, Harry’d indicated that there was much more to Uncle Sam’s reticence than unconcern over a garden-variety kidnapping.
Not to mention these FBI types, or whatever they were, had spent the past twelve hours carefully keeping her and Taylor completely apart. They were about as subtle as bulls in a china shop about their maneuvering. Why did they care if she and her partner talked or not? She snorted. Clearly, it was imperative that she and Taylor compare notes, and soon.
To that end, she tapped the arm of the agent beside her. “Pardon me, but I’d like to say goodbye to my partner.”
The guy’s gaze darted to his buddies. “Uh, that won’t be possible, ma’am.”
“Why not? He’s standing right over there. All I want to do is walk over and thank him for saving my neck. It’s not like we’re going to trade national security secrets.”
That remark got an interesting flicker out of her guard’s collective gazes. Holy cow. National security? She blinked innocently. “Come along with me. You can monitor everything we say.”
The agent still hesitated.
“Aw, come on,” she cajoled, batting her eyelashes shamelessly.
The guard looked at his companions. One of them shrugged fractionally and nodded. “Okay,” he said heavily. “But no funny business.”
“Sheesh,” she groused. “You’re treating us like we’re some kind of criminals. We’re the ones who got attacked and kidnapped here.” She shook her head and strode toward Taylor, her hands jammed in her pockets. She palmed the scrap of paper she’d scribbled upon earlier and stuffed into her jeans.
He turned as Amanda approached and his ice-blue gaze locked on her. The poor guy looked roundly confused over what was going on around them. She knew the feeling. She held out her hand, and he stared at it blankly for a second. Then he reached out and grabbed it in his big, warm grip. His gaze snapped up to hers, abruptly alert.
She said quietly, “Thanks for everything. You saved my life and I’m grateful.”
He replied smoothly, “I think you saved mine a couple times more than I did yours. It was a pleasure working with you.” His hand fell away, taking the tiny square of paper with it. Their respective phalanxes of guards closed in around them once more, effectively isolating them from each other, even though they only stood a few feet apart.
“See now, guys,” Amanda commented, “that wasn’t so bad.”
As her guards scowled, a man in a suit got off one of the King Airs. The way everyone’s shoulders straightened, she gathered this guy was the big cheese. He carried himself with authority. He stopped in front of her and Taylor and shot them both a withering stare. She refrained from laughing. Like she was supposed to be intimidated by this guy?
He said darkly, “The two of you have interfered in matters far beyond your comprehension.”
She chuckled to herself. Yup. That was her and Taylor. Too stupid to understand what time of day it was.
“We asked Devereaux to take you off this case, yet you continued to pursue it.”
No matter that they’d never received the message. In good faith, Harry enlisted Major Ortolo to detain them so he could deliver it. But that didn’t count, apparently.
“As American citizens, I’m ordering you on behalf of your government,” the man paused for dramatic effect, “to cease and desist this operation. Do you two understand?”
She nodded dutifully and did her best to paint a contrite look on her face. Good thing she was a Brit. She was so going to enjoy shoving this fi
asco down this jerk’s throat some day.
“Very well, then. Miss McClintock, an airplane is waiting to take you to New York, and Mr. Roberts, you may join me on the plane bound for Washington, D.C. Taking you home is the least we can do to compensate you for your troubles down here.”
She barely managed not to roll her eyes. It was also the only way to guarantee splitting up the two of them. She paused on the top step of her plane and looked over at Taylor, who was just getting ready to duck into his ride home. He nodded once at her, his expression grim.
Taylor stood at a pay phone outside a convenience store a few blocks from Andrews Air Force Base and dialed the long series of numbers on Amanda’s piece of paper. This phone didn’t have its phone book anymore, so he couldn’t look up the country code, but he was pretty sure his call was going somewhere in Europe. A long pause and a ring sounded in his ear. Yup, definitely not an American phone. He stuck a finger in his nonphone ear to block out the car noises behind him as a female voice spoke in rapid German. He’d only had a year of the language in college, and he fumbled for words. “Sprechen sie Englisch?” he asked.
“Of course.” She switched into smooth English. “What may I do for you today, sir?”
“A friend gave me this number. I need to get in touch with her.”
“And what is your friend’s name?”
“Amanda McClintock.”
“Ah, yes. She is a client of our service. One moment, please, while I connect you.”
An offshore answering service, huh? Pretty slick. His ex-partner was nothing if not prepared for all contingencies. As a faint buzzing commenced in his ear, he frowned. That sounded for all the world like the line was being scanned for taps. Some answering service.
Another woman’s voice came on the line. “To whom am I speaking?” she asked briskly.
“My name’s Taylor Roberts.”
“Yes, Mr. Roberts. I have a message for you from Miss McClintock. It says to meet her at the Ocean Breeze Resort in Acapulco at your earliest convenience should you be interested in continuing to pursue your mutual objective. She will be waiting for you.”
Damn, Amanda was good.
“Thanks,” he said into the phone. “By the way, where are you located?”
“Berne, Switzerland, sir.”
“Danke schon,” he murmured.
“Bitte schon” the woman replied.
He hung up and climbed back into the waiting cab. “Dulles Airport,” he told the driver.
Taylor arrived in Acapulco that evening, tired and in need of a good meal. He cleared customs and headed for a cabstand, where he requested transportation to the Ocean Breeze Resort. The attendant pointed to a garish lime-green Jeep parked along the curb ahead. Taylor gathered from the man’s jumbled English that the Jeep belonged to the hotel.
What kind of weird establishment was Amanda sending him to? The vivid hue of the Jeep was almost painful to look at, and the driver was wearing a equally loud tropical-print shirt. But when he identified himself to the driver, the man was exceptionally courteous and responded in flawless English, “Ah, Mr. Roberts. We’ve been expecting you. Your cabana is ready and waiting.”
The guy loaded Taylor’s bags as he climbed into the unconventional vehicle. They drove for some time, winding ever higher up into the mountains surrounding Acapulco Bay. The lights of the city lay hundreds of feet below, hugging the crescent curve of the shoreline, and the water deepened in hue from navy to black as the moon began to rise.
When they’d wound their way nearly to the pinnacle of the cliffs overlooking the city, the Jeep turned into a lushly foliaged, unmarked drive. Two bellboys rushed out to fetch his bags while the driver led him into a sumptuous lobby. The sound of bubbling fountains danced lightly on the night air.
The concierge greeted Taylor politely and offered to escort him to his cottage, which, it turned out, was already paid for and waiting for him. He followed the concierge outside and down a flagstone path. They passed under arched arbors supporting sweet-smelling hibiscus and bougainvillea and walked by fountains graced with whimsical statues.
At the far edge of the spectacular tropical garden, the concierge showed him into a private bungalow perched on the edge of the cliff. The bellboys were already there, unpacking his belongings, hanging them neatly in closets and folding them into drawers. He walked through the cabana and out the plate glass doors to his private terrace. Jasmine and roses scented the evening air, and fresh-cut water lilies floated invitingly in his private swimming pool.
“Would you like breakfast served out here in the morning, sir?”
Taylor turned to the concierge. “That would be perfect. Say, around ten o’clock?”
“Fine. And will you be taking a meal this evening?”
“Yes. I don’t care what it is—something light, whatever the chef recommends.”
“Is there anything else we may do for you, sir?”
“No. You’ve been more than kind.” Taylor dug into his pocket for his wallet, and the concierge hastily intervened.
“No, no sir. That is not necessary. Your host has already compensated the staff most generously. We have been instructed to see to your every need. It is our pleasure.”
He should have anticipated that. With a polite nod, the concierge turned and left, taking the bellboys with him.
A dip in the swimming pool sounded perfect to wake him up and clear his head after the past couple days’ exhausting events. He changed into swim trunks and checked his leg. It was healing nicely from the puncture wounds. He had a couple bruises and was sore as hell from the fight with Four Eyes last night, but nothing that a few laps in the pool couldn’t work out.
The cool water was bracing after the long hours he’d spent all day folded into airplane seats. As he gazed down at the city lights reflecting off the ocean, the moon rose over the bay. Floating there all alone in his private pool, it seemed as if Mother Nature was putting on this show just for him.
It felt odd to be alone. For what seemed like a lifetime, he’d been with Amanda around the clock, travelling and living with her under the most intimate conditions. She’d been a part of his every waking breath, a player in his every thought. And then she’d been ripped away from him without warning by the U.S. government. It was like having his arm amputated. A vital part of him was missing.
He kept expecting to turn around and see her there, and every time she was not, it was a new disappointment. He missed the quiet confidence she exuded. With her beside him he’d felt as if he could do anything. She’d been a guardian angel one step behind him who could rescue him from any situation he got tangled up in.
What was up with those government agents’ weird behavior last night and today, anyway? They acted as if he and Amanda had barged in on a matter of national security. He froze, his attention riveted on that thought. Had they done exactly that? But how? What could a diamond-smuggling operation have to do with national security? Several other countries’ economies would no doubt take a hit if the diamond market toppled, but the U.S. and its strategic interests wouldn’t be all that directly affected.
So why were everyone’s knickers in such a twist to keep him and Amanda apart? And what had Four Eyes meant by “diamond wafers”? What the hell were those good for? Some high-tech defense application?
He floated there for a long while, thinking, but no answers came. The moon climbed overhead, shrinking from a throbbing yellow globe to a hard white ball bathing him in cold light. He climbed out of the pool, shivering in the evening’s settling chill. He toweled off quickly and padded through the bungalow in the dark to the bathroom and a steamy shower. As he was dressing, dinner arrived. He yelled to the busboy to lay it out in the living room. Taylor walked out of the bedroom. And stopped in the doorway.
On the opposite side of a cloth-covered table bearing several silver-covered dishes sat Amanda, sipping a glass of white wine. She was dressed in a white linen dress, crisp and cool like the night air and as beautiful as on
e of the rare and fragile orchids gracing his garden. A smile spread across his face. Damn, it was good to see her.
Amanda looked up when Taylor entered the room. As always, she felt a momentary shock at how strongly his presence affected her. She’d wanted to keep this meeting all business, but her whole body tingled with awareness of him.
She returned his stare, savoring being near him once more. It had been lonely without him today. Who’d have guessed she’d miss his teasing and wry humor as much as she had? She’d missed his warmth and concern for her, too. Her father had been the last and only person ever to show her such affection before he completely lost his marbles.
Taylor’s voice was rich with pleasure as he greeted her. “Amanda.”
She couldn’t help but smile back. “Taylor.”
“I missed you.”
How could three such simple little words have such a powerful effect on her? They reverberated through her entire being like thunder. He’d missed her. Slow joy spread through her, like honey dripping in a warm golden stream to bathe her in its sweetness.
She came to her feet, drawn forward to meet him in the middle of the spacious room. The shadowed lamplight blurred in a dreamlike haze around her. Only Taylor stood out in sharp, clear focus, his beautiful smile welcoming her. He held out his arms, and it was the most natural thing in the world for her to walk into them.
She reveled in the solid bulwark of his body, which surrounded her, protected her and warmed her. Her ear pressed against his chest, absorbing the familiar, comforting sound of his heart. His hands massaged her back lightly and he buried his face in her hair.
She rejoiced in the sense of belonging he gave her. Her eyelids drifted closed, and she let go of all the tension in her neck and shoulders. If she could have purred, she would have. She tilted her head back to look up at him, and Taylor’s large, warm palm was there immediately, supporting and caressing the back of her neck. His breath brushed against her temple. “Did you miss me?” he murmured.
