Authors: Dee Davis
Something in the way she said it made him think of subversive groups, regiments that depended on brainwashing to keep their recruits loyal to the cause. He started to push for more, but she cut him off with the wave of a hand. "Look, it doesn't matter how it happened." She was back with him now, the past firmly shut away again. "What's important is that I trust these people with my life. And with yours."
He reached over to lift her chin with his finger, the feel of her skin against his sending sensory memory dancing along his already jangled nerves. Her golden hair played against the back of his hand, soft and silky. A part of him wanted nothing more than to bury his face in it. To turn back the clock to a time when there were no shadows between them. But that was a fool's dream. A moment of intimacy couldn't erase all that stood between them.
He pulled away, ignoring the flash of hurt in her eyes. "All right then. It's decided. We'll come with you as far as the rendezvous."
She nodded, accepting the decision. "We'll leave at first light. Martin needs to sleep. I hate that he can't just hole up somewhere and recuperate."
"Maybe we can have the best of both worlds." Reece moved to the couch, increasing the distance between them. "Nick's family has a cabin outside of Creede."
She frowned, shaking her head. "Nick who?"
"Price. You know, one of my college buddies?"
"Right. Of course," she smiled, her face clearing. "He's the one who got wasted the weekend they all came to the cottage." It had been a great weekend despite the antics of his intoxicated college friends. So much had changed since then.
"Yeah, well everyone was pretty drunk."
"But he was the only one who threw up all over me. It was gross."
"Well, it’s not like he planned it. And he was really sorry afterward."
"Only after Connor reminded him it happened."
"Well there is a certain bliss in ignorance."
They laughed, the sound comforting, but the silence that followed was awkward.
"Anyway," he said, cutting into the stillness, "depending on where in the mountains your rendezvous point is, maybe we can use the cabin as a base."
"I don't think it's a good idea to contact anyone. Even a friend."
"That's the beauty of it. I don't have to call. He's been on me to use it for years. Even told me where the key is. So all we have to do is head that way and we should be good to go."
"What if he's there?"
"He won't be. He's working out of the country at the moment. Something with Homeland Security."
"All right," she mused, clearly considering her options. "It might work. You and Martin can hole up there until I figure out what's what."
"Look." He leaned forward. "I know you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You wouldn't have lasted this long if you weren't, but I can't just let you go out there on your own. Chalk it up as being a part of who I am." She opened her mouth to argue but he didn't give her the chance.
"I'm not backing down, Simone. This bastard was shooting at me, too. I might not be ex-CIA, but I've faced my share of combat. It may have been a hell of a long time ago, but some things you never forget. And taking down the enemy is one of them."
*****
"WHY WAS I NOT INFORMED of this visit of yours?" Manuel Ortega paced in front of his ornate desk, his hands moving with his displeasure.
Isabella squared her shoulders, carefully keeping all emotion from her face. Thank God, Ramón had given her warning. Despite Manuel's wrath, she was ready for him. "I wasn't aware that I had to inform you of every move I make." Her voice held just the right amount of disinterest. It was her icy facade that kept Manuel's attention. That and the fire she brought to his bed.
"Maintaining my position is a matter of delicate balance. You know this. And yet you continue this vendetta of yours, despite my objections."
Isabella bit into her bottom lip, swallowing the heat of her anger. "It is not a vendetta. I simply want to find out who killed my father. Surely you can understand that?" It was a stupid question. Manuel only cared about the things that affected him or his party. As far as he was concerned, her father's death was of no consequence.
Unless her actions interfered with his plans.
"You are not listening to me,
carita
." The endearment was deceptively soft. Manuel was many things, but he was not stupid. "I am telling you that it is only a matter of time before your connection with this man comes to light. And since it was your affiliation with me that allowed for your journey in the first place, your meeting can only harm what I have been working so hard to build."
"Accord with the Americans?" she spat, unable to keep the scorn from her voice. "It is impossible."
"You are a fool." Manuel's face contorted with anger, his palm connecting with her cheek. "And now you have laid the stones to make a fool of me as well."
Isabella raised a shaking hand to her face, fighting for control. "I merely spoke with a man in the American CIA. I fail to see how a simple conversation has caused you or your precious party any harm."
"We are in the middle of delicate trade negotiations with the Americans, and your questions evoke memories best left buried. What happened in your village was an atrocity. But it is also ancient history. The world has moved on."
Again she swallowed fury. Perhaps some people had moved on. Some had probably never even engaged in the first place. But she would never forget, and someday she would find a way to get retribution.
Until then she must appease Manuel.
"I'm sorry I did not make you aware of my plans. I honestly believed they were of no matter."
Manuel's eyes narrowed as he searched her face. "You truly do not know, do you?"
Isabella frowned up at him, still rubbing her jaw. "Know what?"
"The man you went to see—he's dead."
Isabella kept her features frozen, but her heart lurched nevertheless. "Are you certain of this?"
"My sources are accurate." Manuel's gaze was still assessing.
"I didn't do it."
"I wasn't saying that you did. But there will be conjecture. And there is always your brother. Have you spoken with him?"
"You know that he does not talk to me." Manuel still believed that Carlos was a crazed man living on the edge, with no connection to the remnants of her father's junta. A notion she'd encouraged as it suited her purposes. It would never occur to him that she had stepped in for her brother. "But I do not believe he is even in America. Antonio told me that he was seen recently in the brothels of San Salvador."
"Are you telling me the truth?" Manuel's eyes were narrowed, and she flinched, her cheek still stinging.
"I always tell you the truth."
"Like your trip to America?" He slammed his palm on the table, and she forced herself to hold his gaze. There was no pride in being cowed.
"I didn't lie except perhaps by omission." She released a hint of her anger in order to camouflage her fear. "And as I said, I had no idea it would matter in the least. You know that I wish to find out what really happened in Sangre de Cristo. I have never made a secret of the fact."
"But you have never before reached out to the Americans. And now this man is dead."
"When I left him, he was very much alive."
"And did he give you the information you seek?"
Baxter had told her nothing, the old man holding tight to his honor even at the end. But she had still gained information, a piece of the puzzle that when added to the others had yielded a name.
"No. He gave me nothing." Isabella wondered when she had become so adept at lying. First to Ramón and now to Manuel. It was a dangerous path, but in the end the reward would be well worth the risk.
"Well..." Manuel waved his hand, his signet ring catching the light. "If Carlos does try to contact you, I will expect you to alert me immediately. And I hope for your sake that he is in San Salvador." It was clear from his tone that he had not believed her.
"The Americans have not yet discovered your meeting. But when they do—" the words came out on a whisper, his expression ugly "—and believe me they will—I want you completely distanced from the affair. If not, then I will have to take other measures."
He paused, the silence between them almost palpable.
"Am I making myself clear?"
"Perfectly." She nodded, feigning acquiescence.
He watched her for another moment beneath hooded lids, and then nodded, seemingly satisfied with what he saw.
She dug her nails into her palms, wishing she had a weapon. What she wouldn't give to wipe the self-satisfied smirk from his lips.
Arrogant bastard.
"In deference to our relationship, I will try to make this go away. But until I do, you will remain here, where my men can keep an eye on you. Am I making myself clear?"
Again her stomach churned with unspoken words. How dare he sequester her like some sort of concubine? The little voice in her head reminded her that she was exactly that. But she dismissed the idea. She did what she did for a greater cause. And no cost was too high.
The most pressing question now was who had killed the American. It was not part of the plan, but Carlos was not a patient man. She could not rule out the possibility that her brother had pressed the man for more information, and, unhappy with his responses, had killed him.
It was not what she would have chosen, but if it had happened, she must find a way to protect her brother and still maintain distance. Otherwise all that she had worked to achieve would be destroyed.
She sighed, wondering if it was possible to become trapped in one's own web. In the beginning it had all seemed so simple. But over time, the threads had become tangled and she was finding it more and more difficult to maintain the facade.
One thing, however, she was certain of: if Manuel learned of her deception, she would pay with her life.
RATON, NEW MEXICO SAT in the hollow of the mountains that separated New Mexico and Colorado. It was a squat town, faded by time and a floundering economy. They'd stopped out of necessity, bladders and stomachs needing the break. But now, as Simone emerged from the dingy restroom of the Mexican diner, she realized it wasn't just her body that needed the respite. Her mind needed a diversion, as well.
They'd been up before dawn, returning the rental car and purchasing a used one from a guy with a corner lot and a trailer. He hadn't asked questions. Just taken their money and waved them away. Funny how cash facilitated that sort of thing.
From there they'd hit the road, crossing Texas and the upper corner of New Mexico in record time, despite the fact that they'd changed course several times just in case they were being followed.
The trip itself had been uneventful, Simone and Reece taking turns driving while Martin napped in the back. The silence had been smothering, Reece's comments limited to one word questions like, "here?" or "gas?" Not that she was surprised by it. There wasn't, after all, a hell of a lot left to say.
Still, she couldn't help but compare it to earlier trips, when the two of them had been happy, and the conversation had flowed like wine. They'd spent two weeks in Tuscany a year or so after they'd gotten married, and it had been like a dream come true, the magic of Italy combining with their joy in each other to create the perfect trip.
They'd spent every minute talking and laughing. Exploring ancient ruins and palaces, eating pasta, drinking wine—just being together. In her mind's eye she could hear their laughter, see Reece sitting beneath the olive trees, a picnic spread on a brightly colored blanket.
And Italy hadn't been unique. Whether they were traveling or working on the house, or just lying together on the couch watching TV, there had always been a connection. And now—she sighed—now, thanks to her duplicity, it was gone.
"You get a fix?" She asked as she slid into the booth next to Martin, careful to keep her knees from brushing against Reece, who was sitting across from her. Martin held the satellite phone, the tracking system turned on.
"I'm not getting anything to change." He held out the phone, and she looked at the colored screen and its bleeping dot.
The program had been created by the CIA's IT department as a way for operatives to find each other in emergency situations. It was designed to give a general location, then as an operative approached the target, additional coordinates were fed into the program and the map became more detailed. If any of the coordinates along the way were wrong, the program terminated. And if they were entered before reaching the next stage, they failed to elicit the proper response.
It was an ingenious program, and at the moment it, and the series of numbers that Simone had memorized all those years ago, were the only things leading them to the rendezvous.
All the more frustrating since according to the map, it was time for the next set of coordinates. Only they weren't getting the expected response.
"Well, at least we know my numbers are right," Simone said with a sigh.
"How do we know that?" Reece asked, his expression guarded.
"Because the thing would terminate if I entered the wrong coordinates, and it's not."
"If you ask me we're on a fucking wild-goose chase. Even if this thing did work once, it's been a long time." Reece waved at the machine, dismissing it, frustration cresting in his eyes.
"Nah, we're just getting something wrong," Martin said, ignoring the tension radiating between Simone and Reece. "The last set of coordinates worked. If the program was outdated or malfunctioning it wouldn't have taken those. We're just missing something. The instructions were to use new coordinates at the base of the mountains, right? Well, we're at the foot of the mountains. So it ought to work."
The waitress arrived with steaming platters of enchiladas, the requisite beans and rice filling the plates to overflowing. The smell started Simone's mouth watering. They hadn't had anything to eat since morning and it was well past seven now.
"So if the damn thing isn't broken, what's the problem?" Reece's control was absolute, but she'd known him long enough to recognize that he was running on empty. Too much had happened too fast, and although on the surface he was dealing with it, a deeper part of him was having trouble processing it all. Not that he'd ever admit it.
"I don't know. Maybe we're not in the right place?" Martin looked as tired as Simone felt, his color still a bit off. His wound was healing nicely though, the second set of stitches holding strong.
"We're at the foot of the mountains," Simone said, forking a bit of enchilada into her mouth, the melting cheese and green chilies a heavenly combination.
"Or maybe not." Martin frowned again at the display, then hit another button. The screen zoomed out to a less detailed map of the area. "The mountains run between here and Trinidad, right?"
"Yeah," Simone said, speaking over the rice in her mouth. "They're connected by a pass just north of here."
"So basically they're only separated by vertical mass."
"What?" Reece frowned at his brother.
"Mileagewise they're not that far apart. The major separation is vertical. The mountains."
Reece swallowed a mouthful of beans. "So you're thinking that the base of the mountains could be on either side of the pass."
"Exactly." Martin nodded.
"And if it's not working on this side," Simone continued, "then it's probably in Trinidad."
"So we head over the mountain." Martin finished off the last of his beans.
"It's better than sitting here waiting for something to happen." Reece pushed his plate away, too.
As if his words had evoked their enemy, Simone shot a look over her shoulder at the rest of the restaurant. It was packed. Locals crowded around the tiny bar, alternately cheering and booing as a college basketball team ran back and forth across a grainy television screen.
A family of five sat in the booth immediately behind them, two toddlers taking turns terrorizing the waitress by jumping off the back of the seats. It all seemed perfectly normal, but Simone couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
"You seeing something?" Reece surveyed the bar and its patrons.
"No. Just suddenly have a bad feeling. You know, the kind that makes you jumpy?"
"Well, considering the stakes, I say we trust your intuition." He reached for his wallet and threw two twenties on the table. "Ready to roll?"
Martin started to stand up, but Simone shook her head. "Give it a minute. I'm going to go to the bathroom. As soon as I disappear from view, give it another minute and then you guys head for the door. I'll use the back door and come around from the side. If someone's out there, he'll react to your leaving, and hopefully I can catch him by surprise when I double back."
"And if no one is out there?" This from Martin.
Simone shrugged. "No harm, no foul."
"All right. Let's do it." Reece as usual cut right to the chase.
Simone grabbed her bag and headed for the bathroom. A loud cheer erupted from the bar as the New Mexico team scored a basket. No one else moved. She rounded the corner and passed the pay phone. Then cracked the door in the men and women's bathrooms, ascertaining that both were empty.
Hopefully she was only responding to her own exhaustion. But she still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
She waited about thirty more seconds to make certain that no one was following her, then slipped out the back door and around the corner of the building. The front door was illuminated by blinking blue neon, two pole lamps casting washed-out circles of light at each end of the parking lot. The rest of it was cast in shadows. Simone waited for Reece and Martin to appear.
Martin came first, ambling across the parking lot as if he hadn't a care in the world. It was a good act, but the line of his shoulders gave him away. Reece was about a minute behind. Unlike his brother he made no effort to hide his suspicion, his dark gaze moving around the parking lot, searching for anything out of place.
She followed his lead, letting her eyes sweep the lot. Martin was rounding a line of cars, heading across the last row toward their beige Buick. He was about halfway there when headlights flashed on, the light almost blinding after the near dark of the parking lot.
The engine raced, and the dark sedan sped straight for Martin. Simone sprinted forward, gun drawn, already recognizing that she was going to be too late. Reece, however, had seen the car as well, and was already diving for his brother. He hit Martin just before the car would have, the two of them rolling to the side of the row, almost underneath the Buick.
The sedan sped out of the parking lot, its tinted windows and the shadows keeping her from seeing anything about the driver. She covered the rest of the ground in seconds, and was kneeling beside Reece and Martin. "Everyone okay?"
"Yeah." Reece rolled off his brother, leaning back against a tire. "You get a look at the guy?"
"No. Tinted windows. But the plates were New Mexico."
"Doesn't tell us a lot. You get a number?"
"CRR063. But I don't know what good it's going to do. We don't have access to a computer and we sure as hell aren't taking it to the police."
"I doubt they're looking for me in New Mexico, but I understand your hesitation."
"It could have just been a drunk local." Martin was sitting up, too.
"I don't think so." Reece shook his head, still staring at the highway in front of the restaurant. "Considering the circumstances, it's too coincidental."
"Something's bothering you." Simone met Reece's gaze, already knowing she was right.
"Well, we've assumed based on your past that this was all about you."
"And the fact that Maurice sent a warning."
"Right. I'm not saying I don't buy it. But if it is about you, then why target Martin?"
"Because I care about him?" She frowned. Reece was right; it didn't make sense.
"I've heard of loving someone to death, but this gives new meaning to the idea." Martin rubbed his head gingerly, his cheek already purpling slightly where it had come into contact with asphalt.
"Maybe. But before the killer opened fire at the house, he'd already shot Martin. And more importantly, he'd done it with a silencer, or you'd have heard it, right?"
She should have thought of it herself. "I didn't hear anything, but it could have happened when I was out front talking to Laura."
"Laura was there?" It was Reece's turn to frown.
"Every day, like clockwork." She hadn't meant to sound snippy, but she was tired, her emotions stretched to the limit.
"Do you remember hearing anything, Martin?" Reece turned his attention to his brother.
"No. But then it all went kind of fast."
"Well, this sure as hell isn't about Martin." The idea was ludicrous.
"I'm not saying it is," Reece said, pushing to his feet. "But we can't ignore the fact that at least twice the guy has targeted Martin, and it doesn't make sense to me that someone from your past would pick him over me or you. Even if the ultimate goal is to get to you, there's got to be something more."
"Well, it's not like I saw the guy," Martin said.
"But maybe he thinks you did." Simone stood up and then offered Martin a hand. "Which would mean he's worried that you can identify him."
"Great," Martin said, sliding into the back seat. "Nothing like having a target painted on your back."
*****
THE RAIN HAD COME from nowhere, socking them with an intensity that made it hard to maneuver the water-slick road. The road was four-lane most of the time, but with the steep grade and sharp turns it might as well have had a single lane.
Fortunately traffic was minimal.
Reece checked the rearview mirror for about the thousandth time, searching the stormy night for signs of the dark sedan.
"Whoever it was, he doesn't seem to be following us." Simone had also been checking the rearview.
"Maybe it really was just a drunk?" Martin asked, his tone wishing it so.
"It's possible." Simone gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, negating the words.
"I'm not blind, Simone," Martin said, and despite the gravity of the situation, Reece smiled. In some really perverse way life felt normal for the first time since he and Simone had split four months ago.
"Sorry." She turned back with a grimace. "I just hate the fact that either of you are involved in this. And so I guess I just wanted it to be true."
"Well, join the club," Reece said. "At least we seem to have lost him for the moment. How much longer?"
Simone looked down at the display screen on the satellite phone. "We're almost to the pass, so I'd say we've got twenty more minutes until we get to Trinidad."
"After we check the GPS, maybe we should stop for the night?" Reece shot a sideways glance at Simone. "Martin could use the rest."