Legacy of the Highlands (28 page)

It was a cushy existence and he was well
compensated. The senior Navarro would be livid if he ever found out
that Serge wasn’t glued to Diego. He’d probably be fired if Ricardo
learned that it was his son who now gave the orders. Luckily, the
willful bastard had a natural affinity for the rigorous training
program that Serge had put him through until he was sure that Diego
could expertly defend his own body. And he could, but with one
major exception — when that body became entangled with a woman’s
and he allowed his genitals to overrule his common sense. It
wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that Diego’s irresponsible
lack of communication for the past twenty-four hours was due to the
lovely Alexandra Cameron. What worried him was the risk that
particular connection held. From what he’d learned about their
adversaries, one possible target remained — Alex — so whenever
Diego was with her, the threat extended to him. He knew better than
to try to pry Diego away from her, but he had to be sure that his
friend was armed and vigilant. Serge knew that his boss wouldn’t
re-establish contact until he was good and ready.

Since he’d placed the listening devices in
Mackinnon’s home and business, the man hadn’t done anything that
tied him to the rebellious offshoot of the Group of One Hundred. He
went to his shop, came home, dined with Mairi’s family a couple of
times, and occasionally drove to the nearby Moray Firth to watch
the sun set over the Black Isle. Serge had to consider that the
information he’d obtained might be flawed or, with Will dead, the
participants had gone to ground to avoid notice. He considered two
other possibilities: that they were biding their time to formulate
another plan; or, with Mackinnon’s son jailed, and revenge carried
out against John Cameron for informing the English authorities
about the terrorist plot, the splinter group might have
disbanded.

Patience often paid off eventually and that
morning, as Serge headed to the bathroom to shave, he’d hit “play”
to listen to any calls Mackinnon had received overnight. He nicked
himself as the old man spoke with someone in Boston who’d obviously
been watching Alex. His shoulders tensed as he listened to the man
report on Alex’s visit to a doctor’s office and his theory that she
could be pregnant with Will’s child. He then heard Mackinnon
callously say, “Well now, she and the bairn must have a wee
accident I suppose,” in answer to the caller’s query about how to
proceed if, in fact, Alex carried a future Cameron. Serge clenched
and unclenched his fists. Diego had to be told and the fucker was
ignoring his calls.

Diego ran across the tarmac toward the Navarro jet,
shouting into his phone to be heard above the whir of a nearby
plane’s engines. “Alex! Alex, can you hear me? Shit, I can’t hear
you,” he growled and snapped the phone shut. He sprinted up the
plane’s steps and tried the call again.

“Better,” Alex said when she answered,
stifling a yawn.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but it’s a long
flight back to the States and I wanted to get an early start. My
pilot says we’ll be airborne in about a half hour, which would put
us into Boston around seven tonight. I’ve also arranged for us to
fly to Scotland tomorrow.”

“Good. I can’t stand that the killer thinks
he’s gotten away with it.”

“Trust me, Alex, we’ll find him.”

“I know. If anyone wants this more than me,
it’s you.”

“I’ve got a couple of other calls to make
before we take off. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay, have a good flight. I’m gonna try to
go back to sleep.”

He had an instant physical reaction to the
thought of waking beside her, but he knew he had to let Alex lead
that particular dance or he could lose her. That was one risk he
wasn’t willing to take, which meant he’d have to fight his natural
inclination to take charge.

Scotland tomorrow, Alex mused as she popped bread in
the toaster and fried an egg a couple of hours after Diego’s early
morning call. She tried not to think about the man who’d ended
Will’s life, but he came to her unbidden in dreams that left her
trembling and drenched in sweat. He had to be found and dealt with
if she were to ever have peace. She had no idea what form this
thirst for vengeance would take, but cutting the killer’s heart
into little pieces with a cleaver had some appeal. She forced those
ugly thoughts away and switched her focus to Diego. Better, much
better, she thought and smiled.

About an hour before the Navarro jet was due into
Logan, Alex gave a final check to the dinner she’d prepared — a
Greek salad was chilling in the refrigerator along with the
rotisseried chicken she’d bought on the way home from Francie’s.
She’d serve it cold, accompanied by white wine, crusty bread and a
dessert of strawberries dipped in sour cream and brown sugar — the
perfect summer meal. She quickly showered, shaved her legs, pulled
on faded jeans and a black tank top and switched off the hair dryer
in time to hear the downstairs buzzer. It was Diego.

Excitement bubbled in her veins as she stood
at the open door and listened to him running up the stairs to her
top floor flat.

“You could have taken the elevator!” she
shouted teasingly down the stairwell.

“Too slow,” he replied as he wrapped his arms
around her, lifted her off the ground and gifted her with a look of
such incredible happiness that she couldn’t stop herself from
grinning foolishly back at him.

“Hi,” she finally said.

“Hi,” he answered softly and touched his lips
gently to hers.

Francie knows me better than I know myself,
Alex thought as she drifted into the kiss and the arousal it
provoked.

“I promised myself that I would wait, let you
decide…give you time,” he whispered into her ear a moment later,
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“I don’t need time. I need you,” she replied
breathlessly.

Diego’s face flushed and his dark eyes
sparkled with amusement as they met hers. Alex took his hand and
smiled shyly as she led him to the guest room, dinner completely
forgotten. She would never make love with another man in the bed
she and Will had shared.

“So…does this mean you want to use me again?”
he teased raising one dark eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up,” she answered and put an
exclamation point on it by tugging his shirt out of his pants to
run her hands over his hard, muscled back. His skin was warm, but
she felt it quiver.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he
murmured hoarsely as she raised her arms to help him slide the
flimsy top over her head. Oh, yes, I do, she thought fleetingly as
she sank into an abyss of sensation, because you do the same to
me.

Damp and sticky from sex and sweat, their bodies
were fused to each other and it took some effort to separate. Diego
was half-asleep, but one of his fingers repeatedly traced a line
from Alex’s breast to her waist and back again.

“Stop it!” she grumbled as she shoved his
hand away.

“What? What am I doing?” He’d dozed off and
seemed genuinely puzzled.

“I’m ticklish and you’re torturing me.”

Diego turned onto his side and nuzzled her,
inhaling her scent. No heavy perfume...a fragrance he couldn’t
identify, but uniquely hers. He liked it and tightened his hold on
her, then reluctantly let go when he remembered his vow to let her
lead this particular dance. He propped his head on a couple of
pillows and grinned lazily. “Is this our first fight?”

“When we have a fight, Navarro, you’ll know
it. And wipe that smile off your face.”

“Can’t I smile at you? I’m happy. When I’m
happy, I smile.” He reached for her again, but she leapt out of
bed.

“Ha!” she taunted. This was fun, but she
wasn’t ready to let him know that. “I’m going to shower. And in
case you’re thinking of joining me, the door will be locked. You
can use the guest bathroom. Then put some clothes on and meet me in
the kitchen. I made dinner.”

“
Oui, mon général
, your wish is my
command,” he said and made a courtly bow which would have looked
ridiculous even if he weren’t naked. “First you share your body
with me and now you offer food. My cup runneth over,” he added as
he sauntered toward the bathroom.

His back was to her when she turned to reply
and he was already kicking the door shut with his heel. The man’s
got the most beautiful ass, she observed, then averted her eyes.
The last thing she wanted was for Diego Navarro to catch her
checking out his body, but it was indeed a thing of wonder.

Once she was sure that he was in the shower,
she grabbed her cell phone. When Francie answered, all Alex said
was, “You were right. And it was even better the second time. I
love you France. Bye.”

“Where the hell are you? Answer the damn phone!”
Serge shouted with mounting frustration as he tried Diego’s number
yet again. The message Diego had left said that he and Alex planned
to arrive in Scotland that day. If they were aboard the Navarro
Gulfstream, its satellite communications system would have picked
up the call, so Diego must be traveling on a jet without that
equipment. Or at least he hoped so.

Serge knew his employer well. Diego’s father
needed the Gulfstream, so he’d chartered a jet for him and Alex.
Diego often used his wealth to insulate himself from the hassles
endured by the masses. A commercial flight would have required a
time-consuming stop in London or Edinburgh to connect to an
Inverness flight. More important, private jets were exempt from the
stringent, post-9/11 rules against weapons aboard commercial
aircraft and Diego was traveling armed.

He was mentally and physically prepared to do
battle in Scotland. A slim, yet deadly, knife that he’d learned to
wield with the agility of a street fighter was strapped just above
his ankle. He’d trained on a life size dummy, although he still
wasn’t sure that he’d be able to cut a human except in a life or
death struggle. A semi-automatic Beretta was holstered beneath his
arm, concealed under a roomy, black cotton sweater. He was already
an expert marksman when Serge had been hired, but his aim and
reflexes were now those of a pro. The bastards had no idea that
Cameron blood flowed through another man’s veins, a man who was
hell-bent on avenging his brother’s murder and on safeguarding the
woman he’d begun to regard as his.

But for now the warrior rested, his face as
placid as a child’s. One arm was wrapped possessively around that
woman — his woman — as they slept their way across the Atlantic
after a night when sleep had been the last thing on their
minds.

Beside him, Alex slitted one eye as she
slowly emerged from a deep, dreamless slumber. For an instant she
was confused to find herself on a plane and not in her own bed. She
stirred, but when Diego tried to draw her to him, she pulled
away.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbled in that
half-conscious state between sleep and wakefulness. The man hadn’t
shaved since leaving Buenos Aires and Alex thought he looked
incredibly sexy with a two-day stubble of dark beard.

“My ears popped and woke me up. We’re
probably almost there.” She sat up to see if they were over land,
but clouds blocked any view. “Will and I talked about buying small
cottage in Scotland one day…as a hideaway. He loved this place,”
she trailed off, overwhelmed by memories and conflicting emotions.
It felt so wrong to be coming back to Scotland with anyone but
Will, let alone a man she’d slept with. Too soon, it’s too soon,
she told herself for the zillionth time. Despite Francie’s
assurance that there was no such thing as “too soon” if the right
person came along, it still seemed like she was cheating on Will.
Yet when she was with Diego it felt right. He was like chocolate to
a dieter — hard to resist and definitely delicious, but with an
aftertaste of guilt, self-loathing, and a vow to be stronger
despite a short supply of will power.

“Alessandra,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t
have brought you here. Of course Scotland is going to trigger
memories for you. Will was so excited to learn about his heritage
when you visited here.” He stroked her back as he spoke, but
otherwise kept his distance. “Maybe you should take the plane back
to Boston. Serge and I can take care of what has to be done here.
You don’t have to stay.”

“That’s ridiculous. Look, Diego, I have as
much at stake here as you do and I won’t run away from it. Sure
it’s going to hurt, but a lot of things do these days. I’m
staying.”

“Good, because the plan I’ve come up with
includes you.”

“Plan? What plan?” His arrogance was pissing
her off big time. “If you have a plan and I’m part of it, don’t you
think you should have told me?”

“Yes, of course. I was going talk it over
with you last night, but then…we didn’t do much talking, did
we?”

“No, we didn’t,” she conceded and her anger
faded, knowing that she was as responsible as he was for how the
evening turned out.

The intercom crackled and the pilot addressed
Diego. “Sorry to disturb you Mr. Navarro, but we’ll be landing in
Inverness in about thirty minutes. That gives you fifteen to move
around before you and Mrs. Cameron need to buckle your
seatbelts.”

“Thank you,” Diego responded. “Any update on
the weather?”

“Sky’s overcast, but we’re ahead of the storm
that’s coming in tonight. Temperature is 15

Celsius, 60

Fahrenheit, a
bit cooler than Boston. Local time is 4:30 p.m. Is there anything
else, sir?”

“No, that’s it. Thanks for a smooth flight.
See you on the ground.” Diego turned to Alex. “I’ll fill you in on
my idea after we land. Of course I’ll have to run it by Serge, too.
There are two bathrooms aft, if you want to freshen up,” he said as
he rose and extended a hand to help her out of the oversized
reclining seat.