Uncertain about Selcer’s familiarity with his guest list, Mark needed to keep his exposure to the man to a minimum. He ducked into the office across the hallway and quickly formulated a plan. He paused at the desk to jot a note, which he then folded and concealed in his left hand before leaving the office.
Joining a couple who stood studying the oil painting hanging at the end of the hallway, he struck up a conversation and kept a watch on the theater room doorway. When Selcer and his group exited the room, Mark excused himself and headed toward them, keeping his head down as if he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going.
His stance made it appear natural when he ‘‘accidentally’’ bumped into Sophia, made eye contact with her, and slipped the note into her bodice. These low-cut dresses were coming in handy tonight. ‘‘Sorry, sorry. Excuse me.’’ Then he was striding away before ol’ Harvey even noticed him.
Ten minutes later, he waited in place when Sophia opened the door to the master bedroom closet, a room as big as some houses. Her pink dress now sported a red wine stain all down the front. Good. The girl could take directions.
‘‘Luke!’’ She rushed toward him and threw herself into his arms. ‘‘I can’t believe you’re here.’’
‘‘He’s not. I’m Mark.’’ His twin was out there in the dark somewhere helping Annabelle. Untangling himself from Sophia, Mark added, ‘‘Your aunts sent me to help. Do you still want to leave?’’
‘‘Yes. Oh, yes. Please!’’
‘‘All right, then. You’ll need to do exactly what I say. Do you have a pair of pants that aren’t pink? I looked around in here, but I couldn’t find any.’’
She shook her head. ‘‘I don’t . . . wait. A friend left a duffel.’’ She crossed to a section of the closet that held purses and totes and withdrew a green paisley bag. From inside, she pulled out a pair of dark indigo jeans.
‘‘Excellent,’’ Mark said. ‘‘Is there a shirt, too? Something that’s not pink?’’ He shook his head when she held up a bright yellow T-shirt. ‘‘Nope. We need dark. Black, preferably.’’
‘‘I don’t have dark. I only wear pink.’’
He set his mouth in a grim line. He had no patience for affectations like that. Glancing around the closet, he grabbed a dark-hued man’s shirt that he assumed was Selcer’s off a hanger and tossed it to her.
‘‘It’ll swallow me,’’ she protested as she held it up.
‘‘Belt it. And I want your hair up and underneath this.’’ He handed her a ball cap. ‘‘Wash off your makeup.’’
At that, Sophia Garza’s mouth rounded in horror. ‘‘No makeup? But I never—’’
‘‘Exactly. No one will recognize you. Now, hurry and change.’’
She started stripping right in front of him, which reminded Mark of her recent employment. It made him sad. He remembered Sophia as a bright-eyed six-year-old who loved to ride the merry-go-round at the Brazos Bend Elementary School playground.
He turned away and busied himself testing the rope he’d fashioned from a collection of leather belts. They would work just fine to provide access to the ground from the bedroom balcony.
‘‘Will this do?’’ she asked a few moments later.
Mark turned to look and saw not the tarted-up porn star but a fresh-faced girl who belonged in Brazos Bend. ‘‘Perfect. Let’s go.’’
‘‘Downstairs? Through the crowd?’’ Her teeth tugged worriedly at her lower lip.
‘‘Nope.’’ He hauled the loop of belts over his shoulder. ‘‘We’re taking an alternate route.’’
They exited the closet and he was pleased to see that she had locked the bedroom door. He was less happy to see that she had left the lights blazing. They were visible to anyone outside. He quickly crossed the room and flipped the switches.
Moments later, they slipped through the French doors that led onto the master bedroom balcony. Mark surveyed the grounds below, waited for a pair of strolling guests to move beyond sight, then quickly fixed the belt rope to the balcony railing. This was the point at which they would be their most vulnerable, so they needed to get to the cliff’s edge fast. ‘‘I’ll go first,’’ he told an uncertain Sophia. ‘‘When I signal, you follow.’’
‘‘I’ll fall!’’
‘‘I’ll catch you.’’
As it turned out, he had to do exactly that. The woman was as clumsy as she was pretty, and she squealed and made way too much noise as she crashed toward the ground. Mark winced and worried. The next stage of the plan required absolute quiet. Was she up to it?
When a security guard rounded the corner at a run, he mentally added,
If we even get to the next stage of the plan.
‘‘Hold it right there,’’ the guard said, his suspicious gaze shifting from the belt rope to Sophia to Mark. He carried a 9mm in his right hand.
Mark made a lightning-fast survey. Thirties. Military bearing gone a bit soft. Reflexes probably not what they should be. Surely part of Selcer’s security rather than Radovanovic’s.
‘‘Is there a problem?’’ Mark asked, stepping toward the man, his palms up and out. The trick here was to move fast and give the man no time for thought.
It took only seconds. Mark rotated to the left, and at the same time his left hand came up and across and pushed the gun away. He gripped the wrist of the guard’s gun hand, stepped forward with his left foot, and locked it behind his opponent’s right leg and put him on his back. Then he kicked with his right foot and knocked the guard unconscious.
‘‘Oh my God,’’ Sophia breathed as Mark used the belts to secure the man before hoisting him onto his shoulder and dumping him into a stand of shrubbery that hid him from view. ‘‘You’re a real-life James Bond.’’
Mark’s lips quirked in a grin as he thought about how his sister-in-law Torie teased the Callahan brothers by referring to them as fictional heroes. ‘‘No, he’s manning the Zodiac. I’m Jack Bauer and our twenty-four hours are ticking down. Let’s go.’’
He grabbed her arm and ran for the bank of shadows where he’d stored his bag. There, he knelt and surveyed the area behind them. No guards. No Selcer. Good.
His gaze settled on the pool house. No Rad or Annabelle, either.
He tried to tell himself that was good, too.
Keep your focus, Callahan,
he scolded himself as he fished in his bag for the harness and line and his flashlight. ‘‘Wait here,’’ he told Sophia. Bending low to the ground, he covered the short distance to the edge of the cliff, where he lay on his belly and scooted forward at an angle. Dangling his arm, shoulder, and head over the ledge, he thumbed the flashlight’s switch and signaled Matt with two quick flashes.
He blew out a breath of satisfaction when two quick bursts of light and a single long one answered back. He anchored the line, then tested it. Returning to Sophia, he said, ‘‘Lift your arms so I can get this around you.’’
She shook her head. ‘‘No . . . you’re not . . . I can’t . . .’’
‘‘It’s the only way out, Sophia,’’ he said simply. He shifted her trembling, wet-noodle limbs in order to fasten the harness around her.
‘‘Maybe I should just stay.’’
Frustration rolled through him. ‘‘Is that what you want?’’
‘‘No.’’ She whimpered a little. ‘‘Just promise me the rope won’t break.’’
‘‘The rope won’t break and Matt is waiting below and in twenty-four hours you’ll be home eating Maria’s Snickerdoodles.’’
‘‘I love Maria’s Snickerdoodles.’’
‘‘Then crouch down and follow me.
Quietly
.’’ At the edge of the bluff Mark attached the harness to the line, tested his knots one more time, then said, ‘‘Here you go. Brace your feet against the wall. After the first twenty feet, it’s a slope. We need to do this quickly, so pay attention. And Sophia? Once you’re in the boat? Tell Matthew to head on out, that he was right. I’m staying to help Annabelle get that sonofabitch.’’
‘‘Who’s Annabelle?’’
His muscles bulging, he lowered Sophia Garza over the side of the cliff and said, ‘‘She’s the most hard-headed woman on the face of the earth.’’
Minutes later, he added softly and to himself, ‘‘And if she lets that damned Croat hurt her, I’ll kill her.’’
Seated in the pool house, where the acrid scent of chlorine clung to the air, Annabelle wanted to throw every man on the estate over the cliff—Matt Callahan included. Except he was already at the bottom of the cliff, so that wouldn’t quite work. Nevertheless, every man she dealt with tonight had caused her nothing but grief and she was tired of it.
While she waited for Rad’s man to finish his tale of how he’d discovered her unconscious on the back lawn, she fretted about Mark. Had he evaded Selcer’s security and located the woman? Was he even now lowering the porn princess down the cliff to his brother, or was one of Rad’s goons holding him at gunpoint?
Would he be marched inside this pool house to die in front of her?
Why couldn’t she get that picture out of her mind? He’d been in much more danger dozens of times during operations, and she’d never worried about him like this before. It made her crazy!
But then, so did the voice in her ear where Matt Callahan demanded, ‘‘What’s going on? Are you all right? You haven’t spoken in a full minute. All I can hear are Rad’s people. Answer me, Annabelle. Give me a sign.’’
She couldn’t give him a sign because Boris Radovanovic loomed in front of her. He was a darkly handsome man with Eastern European features—high cheekbones and a blade of a nose. At the moment he scowled down at her, the angles of his face harder and more prominent than ever. ‘‘I thought you said you could handle Mark Callahan. I am displeased with your failure.’’
Okay, Monroe, you’re on.
‘‘I’m not real happy, either, Boris,’’ she replied, wishing him an especially spectacular dive off the cliff. ‘‘I can’t stand that misogynist jerk. He and I crossed paths one time during my career, and that was one time too many.’’ She gingerly touched her eye. ‘‘I think the bastard gave me a black eye. The last time a man did that, I killed him.’’
Rad’s expression softened just a little bit, which eased some of her tension. ‘‘You are a most intriguing woman, Annabelle.’’
She allowed a smile to flirt about her lips. Ol’ Boris had liked her from the beginning, which she credited to the fact that she was different from the women he ordinarily encountered. She didn’t cower in fear before him. She didn’t kiss his butt. She showed respect for his authority without groveling at his feet.
He’d made it clear from the moment she’d met him four days ago that he wanted to bed her, but that he also enjoyed the chase. Apparently, women who told Boris Radovanovic no were few and far between, and he liked the challenge.
‘‘I’m an angry woman, Rad. I tripped over a sprinkler head and gave the SOB the opportunity to get the jump on me. Never mind that it was extra dark in that part of the yard because the moon was behind a cloud and I couldn’t see. That’s no excuse. And the fact that I allowed him to overpower me . . . well . . . it gets my back up. I am better trained than that.’’
‘‘By the American military,’’ Boris restated. ‘‘The army.’’
Annabelle recognized that he loved the fact that his enemies had provided the skills that now protected him, so she played it up whenever possible. ‘‘The marines, too. I did some specialized training with them.’’
Then, because she judged it time to up the ante, she added, ‘‘Of course, Callahan had some specialized training himself. He was good, Rad. Very good.’’
‘‘He won’t get off this rock alive,’’ Radovanovic declared in an ugly tone.
Annabelle sat up straight and hid the shiver his words had sent skittering down her spine. ‘‘Wait a minute. I may not like the guy, but I didn’t sign on to kill him.’’
‘‘You signed on to be my bodyguard,’’ Rad fired back. ‘‘He is a threat to my safety.’’
‘‘Oh, I believe that.’’
Come on, Monroe. Make this good
. ‘‘He tried to convince me to abandon my job, babbling on and on about vengeance and some personal debt you owed him. I don’t know what you did to him, Rad, but he acted a little crazy. Even worse, he isn’t here alone.’’
The European’s brows shot up. ‘‘What do you mean?’’
‘‘He said to tell you he has men waiting for you to leave Hau’oli. Lots of men. They have guns and equipment and who knows what else. Those firecrackers that went off earlier? He said that was all part of the plan.’’
Radovanovic spit out a stream of Croatian, then addressed his own men. Annabelle didn’t let on that she understood the language and could follow the conversation.
‘‘Is she telling the truth?’’ Rad asked his right-hand man, Petar Margetic.
‘‘She’s a woman.’’ Margetic shrugged. ‘‘When do they ever tell the truth?’’
‘‘That’s not helpful,’’ Rad said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
‘‘Who is this person?’’ one of the bodyguards asked, his heavy brow sinking even lower.
‘‘Mark Callahan.’’ Rad’s lip literally curled. ‘‘He held a grudge against Ćurković that bled onto me after Ćurković died.’’
‘‘Callahan,’’ Margetic repeated. ‘‘He’s related to . . . ?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
Margetic traced a scar on his face with his index finger. ‘‘If he knows your part in that, it’s no wonder he has come after you.’’
Annabelle couldn’t stop the slight widening of her eyes as Matt Callahan sent a string of downright filthy curses ringing in her ear. She decided the time had come to float her solution to the problem. ‘‘Excuse me, but I don’t think we have time to waste here. I think you need to forget about killing Callahan and direct your attention to getting off this part of the island ASAP.’’
‘‘How?’’ Margetic demanded. ‘‘This estate has only one road out. If Callahan is armed like you claim—’’
‘‘I have another way,’’ she interrupted. ‘‘I am Rad’s bodyguard, after all. I do what all good bodyguards do—I made a contingency plan.’’
One that would tee Mark off, she knew. She hadn’t missed what he’d said about leaving Rad to her—
until after Sophia was safe.
He might as well have said right out that he intended to come after the man he held partially responsible for his brother’s death. Never mind that now wasn’t the time. The mansion burst at the seams with innocent people.