Legacy of the Highlands (23 page)

Diego couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as
he watched her pile food onto her plate. “Beauty, passion,
intelligence and a healthy appetite — what more could a man
want?”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Navarro,” she
grudgingly admitted as she raised the coffee cup to her lips. “Now
can we eat?”

In between bites, Alex filled Diego in on the
Cameron family’s connection to Scotland’s Group of One Hundred,
John’s money laundering, his misguided effort to protect Will by
keeping him ignorant, John’s exposure of the splinter group’s
terrorist plot, the arrest of Mackinnon’s son, and the price Will
had paid for his father’s treachery.

“I’m surprised to say this, because I’d love
to blame him,” Alex said, as she pushed her plate away and undid
the too-tight top button of her pants, “but by saying nothing John
was only trying to protect Will. And don’t forget that he did save
lives by exposing this group’s bomb plot. I really believe that if
he had any idea of what those fanatics would do to Will, he would
have kept quiet and somehow lived with his part in the deaths of
hundreds of innocents. He made a stupid mistake and I feel sorry
for him. This has destroyed him.”

Diego listened patiently to Alex’s narrative
as he wandered aimlessly around the suite’s living room. She was
relieved that he seemed to have lost the previous day’s seething
anger. Unlike Will’s steady temperament, Diego was volatile and
could erupt without warning. Alex was curious to see how he’d react
to John’s story. When he began to speak, his voice was calm enough,
but as he got into it Alex could almost see his blood begin to
boil.

“I have no pity for him.” Diego stated. Alex
watched in fascination as he ran a hand through his hair the same
way Will used to when he was trying to figure out something
difficult or complicated. “Cameron isn’t evil,” he continued, “but
he’s a goddamned idiot who was in over his head. What does a smug,
rich American like him know about fanatical nationalism and battles
for political autonomy? Does he think this Scottish quest for
country would be more gentlemanly than what goes on in the Middle
East, Northern Ireland or half of Africa? He became a pawn in a
high stakes game that he wasn’t even aware he was playing and Will
paid for his arrogant naiveté with his life. Did Cameron think that
by ratting them out, they’d go away and that would be it?” He
stopped pacing and brought his fist down on the table hard enough
to rattle the breakfast dishes. “My God! How could the man be such
a jackass? Will wasn’t a little kid and he had a right to known
about all of this. It might not have saved his life, but it would
have made him cautious enough to stay out of dark alleys.”

“Fucking hell,” Alex muttered. Would she ever
stop blaming herself for telling Will about the shortcut through
that alley? Although she’d accepted it intellectually, emotionally
she’d never be able to convince herself that if Will’s killers
hadn’t done it there, they would have carried it out someplace
else. She sighed deeply.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” asked Diego.

“Nothing. Everything. You know.”

“Have you left out something that Cameron
said?”

If she told Diego that John thought she could
be a target too he’d stay glued to her, a knight in shining armor.
She was still bewildered that a group of radical Scots might want
to harm her, but the threat had to be taken seriously or she could
wind up dead too. It galled her to admit it, but she knew that
Diego could protect her. The man carried a gun and was an expert
marksman. He’d also told her that he often concealed a knife near
his ankle. Serge had trained him well, but after last night, she
didn’t think 24/7 togetherness was the smartest thing for either of
them.

“Well?” he interrupted her thoughts.

“Okay, okay,” she said irritably. He‘d sensed
she was holding back and would push until she told him the truth.
She had no choice.

“John said there’s a teeny, tiny chance that
these people might want to retaliate against his entire family. I
think that’s ridiculous. After all, I’m only a Cameron by marriage
and this seems to be a blood feud. But John said he had to warn me.
That was why he kept trying to contact me when I was in Miami. My
guess is he wants to cover his ass and ease his conscience about
not telling Will about all of this.”

“And you think that’s nothing?” Diego
retorted as his face flushed and his fist came down on the table
again. “Come on, Alex, you’re smarter than that. Think about what
we know. One of the men Cameron betrays is Mackinnon’s son. When
you visit his shop, Mackinnon cozies up to you and Will as soon as
he hears the Cameron name. Then this psychopath has Will carry a
warning to his father. Now Will is dead. And you think you’re not
part of this? Don’t underestimate these people like your idiot
father-in-law did.” Diego walked to the window and attempted to
regain his composure. He wasn’t mad at Alex, but at that imbecile
John Cameron for bringing all of this on. For what seemed like the
thousandth time, he wondered how he could carry the blood of such a
stupid man.

Diego’s words shook her. She’d had similar
thoughts, but they hadn’t seemed ominous until they came from his
mouth. “Do you really think someone might want to kill me?” she
asked. In the days following Will’s murder, she would have welcomed
a swift death, but not now. Not anymore.

“Yes, Alex. I do,” he replied. His tone was
gentle again, but he was worried. He was terrified of losing her.
“When we left your apartment for the Ritz yesterday, do you
remember seeing a bum staggering down the sidewalk near your
house?”

“No. All I could think about was our meeting
with John, but I know who you mean. I’ve seen him around the
neighborhood a few times since we came back from Florida. He seems
harmless enough. Why?”

“There’s something about him that doesn’t
compute. He acts drunk, but he doesn’t have the vacant look of
someone with a burned-out brain. I’m sure he was watching us. I’ll
check him out, but until I do I don’t want you to go near him or
any other strangers.”

She sighed, resigned to the fact that Diego
now saw himself as her protector. If that’s what he had to believe,
it was fine with her. But she’d never responded well to orders and
she wasn’t going to start now. “Speaking of home, I’m headed there
now. I’ll see you later.”

Diego blocked the door. “Wait,” he said, and
unselfconsciously lowered his jeans to tuck in one of his infinite
supply of perfectly tailored white shirts. Zipped and belted, he
said, “I’ll walk with you.”

“I’ll be fine,” she replied curtly. “It’s a
gorgeous, sunny day. Look out the window; there are lots of people
on the street so stop stressing out. And besides, I want to see
Francie. I’ve hardly spent any time with her since I got back.”

“Seguro,
Preciosa
. Of course,” he
said, but her rejection stung. “Don’t forget we have a lot more to
discuss and some decisions to make.”

“Yes, I know, but I need a break from all of
this international intrigue. I’m on overload and I have to digest
it all. Some girl talk will help me feel less wired.” What she
really wanted was Francie’s help in figuring out how to handle what
she’d begun to think of as the “Diego Situation.” Their
relationship had changed. He’d let her see into his soul and she
knew she now had the power to hurt him. “We’ll do dinner. All
right?” she suggested.

“Sure. I’ve got stuff to do today too. Number
one, I need to bring Serge up to speed on everything John said.
He’s in Inverness and I want to know if he’s visited our friend
Mackinnon yet. We’ll meet up later, and please, Alex, be careful,”
he said, and drew her into an embrace that wasn’t so easy for
either of them to end.

At the precise moment that Diego was wondering about
his bodyguard’s progress, Serge was running his tongue up Mairi
Graham’s soft thigh.

“Mmmm,” was all she managed to say as his
mouth hit its mark. This man really did know much, much more about
shagging than the local boys, she thought, and then lost the
ability to focus on anything other than what the brilliant American
was doing to her.

Serge’s training enabled him to separate his
mind from his body with ease, so while Mairi moaned as he entered
her and his hips moved with hers, he analyzed his visit to
Mackinnon’s souvenir shop. He’d managed to scatter a few tiny
voice-activated listening devices around the shop and also stuck a
GPS transmitter under the fender of the old man’s rust heap of a
car to track his movements. He hadn’t been able to shake off
Mackinnon long enough to plant a motion-activated camera, but for
some reason the guy had stuck to him like a leech, jabbering away,
as he’d browsed through the crap that somehow appealed to people
when they were far from home. The bug and GPS might not reveal
anything useful about Mackinnon’s connection to Will Cameron’s
murder, but it was a start. He’d lost the stomach for some of the
more efficient, brutal ways he’d used to obtain information in the
past, but remained adept at those techniques should they be
needed.

When he’d left the store, the girl was waiting for
him. The unexpected often meant trouble, but she’d known where he
was going when he’d left the teashop so he became alert, but not
overly suspicious. Perhaps she’d decided that their age difference
wasn’t a deal breaker after all.

“I thought you might be wanting some
company,” she began shyly. “A businessman so far from home and
all...it must be lonely for you.” Serge, amused, nodded in
reply.

“Good, that’s grand then,” she said and moved
closer to him. “So how did it go with Uncle Jamie? Did he share
some of his business secrets with you?” she asked coquettishly as
she took his arm.

If the girl wanted to take the lead he’d let
her and they strolled toward the town center. When their nostrils
picked up the spicy aroma of Indian food wafting out of a small
takeaway, she asked if he’d like to pick up some food for them to
eat in his hotel room.

Serge wasn’t about to turn down a blatant
offer like that. He was hungry, she was fun, and she might be
useful in lots of ways. Minutes later he excused himself to duck
into a pub. “Got to use the men’s room,” he explained sheepishly.
“All that tea you poured for me, you know.” Once away from Mairi,
he called the hotel to arrange for a second room. With all the
incriminating equipment in his suite, he couldn’t bring her
there.

“Oooh! I’ve never been inside such a posh
hotel. I feel like a princess,” she said as she took in the view of
Inverness Castle from the turreted room’s bay windows. “I’ll just
freshen up. Is that the loo through there?” she asked and pointed
toward the bathroom.

“Yes, but don’t take too long. That food
smells great and I’m hungry. How about some champagne to go with
it?”

“That would be lovely. But there’s no need to
seduce me, you know. I’m already here,” she said and blew a kiss in
Serge’s direction as she closed the door. She was impressed by the
complimentary array of expensive toiletries in the bathroom, and
she held the cake of perfumed soap to her nose before using it to
wash. The luxurious surroundings and her erotic fantasies kept
Mairi from noticing that there were none of Serge’s belongings
anywhere.

Serge effortlessly shifted his focus away from his
visit to Mackinnon’s and back to the delicious Mairi writhing
beneath him. Mental progress report finished, he relaxed and let
himself enjoy her lush body. He wasn’t sure whether she’d be useful
to him in other ways, but for now the way they were using each
other was perfect.

With his appetite for food and sex satisfied
and his body refreshed by a brief post-coital nap, Serge yawned
contentedly and stretched his long limbs. The bed creaked as he
shifted position and Mairi opened her eyes.

“You really are a man, aren’t you?” she said
sleepily.

“Ah…yeah. I guess I am. Did you doubt it?” he
replied with a grin.

“Oh, no. What I mean is, it’s different with
a man. I’ve only been with lads me own age. They’re so quick like.
And you…well. It’s different, is all.” Her face flushed and she was
suddenly a shy eighteen-year-old again.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. And in case it
wasn’t obvious, so did I,” he said. Masterful lovemaking was as
much a part of his bag of tricks as his skill at interrogation,
hand-to-hand combat and shifting his identity. “You’ve hardly told
me anything about yourself, Mairi. Do you have brothers, sisters,
lots of friends?”

He shifted to a sitting position and pulled
her toward him so that her back was against his chest. Her wild
mane of russet curls tickled his nose and her heavy breasts rested
on the arms he wrapped around her. His hands were tempted to move
to her nipples, but he willed them to remain where they were. Duty
before pleasure.

“Honestly, there’s not much to tell,” she
said. “I’m the second of five children. We’re Catholics and Mam and
Da obviously don’t believe in birth control. I think they’re daft.
For years there was always a screaming bairn in smelly nappies.”
She shook her head, remembering. “I’m not even sure that I want
children of me own. Let’s see, there’s Michael who’s named for my
father, then me, Matthew, Katie and wee Andrew. As for mates…well,
my best one is gone.”

“What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

“Just gone, is all. Jamie Mackinnon...that’s
Uncle Jamie’s grandson...well...he and I were born the same year
and we’ve always been like brother and sister. About two months
ago, or maybe it’s three by now, he said he was off to America, but
wouldn’t say why and believe me, I tried every way I knew to make
him tell. I always know if he’s lying, so maybe he thought it
better to say nothing than to try to fool me. Anyway, I haven’t
heard from him since, except for a scribble on a card to say he’s
back in Scotland and off to work at some sheep farm way up north.
It’s not like him to not come ‘round to say hello. And why would a
lad give up a good job in a garage here in Inverness to care for
dirty sheep in a wee town like John O’Groats where he knows no one,
tell me that?”