The Quiet Seduction (17 page)

“I know you hold your breath and kick and do your arms like this.” Scrawny arms flying, he demonstrated. “'Sides, there was this TV show about lifeguards and all, and they used these things to hold on to and kicked real hard—I think it was called
Bayside,
or something like that. Anyhow, these guys were real cool. Maybe I could be a lifeguard when I grow up.”

Closing her eyes, Ellen shook her head slowly from side to side.
Baywatch?
Her son watched that beach bunny parade and thought the guys were cool?

She'd have to monitor his viewing more carefully.

There were few people around. From time to time she saw the men who were supposed to be her security. If they'd deliberately tried to look anonymous, they couldn't have succeeded better. But of course, that was the whole idea of surveillance. It was supposed to be discreet.

She wondered where Spence was now. Sitting on the porch, leaning back against the weathered, sun-warmed plank wall, she watched her son concentrate intently on fishing for catfish in a muddy pond and thought about the man who had impacted her life with the force of a meteor. The man she had fallen in love with against her better judgment.

Logic told her she didn't know him well enough to be in love with him, but since when had logic played a part in her life? Little more than a dozen years ago she'd been an inexperienced, overprivileged student in an all-girl school, with a safe, comfortable future all mapped out for her. That had ended the day she'd fallen in love with a soldier.

Now, having finally managed to put away her grief
and inch forward with her life again, she had made the mistake of falling for a man without a name, a man without a past, thinking that he would be hers alone because he had nowhere else to go, no one to go back to.

Delusional. No other word to describe it, she told herself with a smile that held more sadness than bitterness. Some women learned from experience; others never did. Jake had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. He'd given her Pete and more joy than she would ever have known with someone like Greg Sanders.

And what had Spence Harrison offered her?

Two nights of unimaginable bliss followed by a vacation she didn't want and didn't have time for in a place she would never have chosen in a million years, plus far too much time to wallow in hindsight.

She slapped at a deer fly hovering around her shoulder. With Christmas coming on fast, she would do better to start thinking of how she was going to manage to buy Pete both a new bike and a puppy. If her son had truly been matchmaking, as Spence had hinted, he was going to be sorely disappointed, because sooner or later all this cloak-and-dagger stuff would end and they would go back home. And she'd be right back where she'd been before Spence had tumbled into her life. Staving off bankruptcy while she tried to absorb a crash course in managing a breeding operation. Trying to be a good mother and make up for Pete's not having a father.

So what was she doing stuck out in the middle of nowhere in a shack that barely had indoor plumbing, while a pair of strangers took over her house and the delivery of another foal? The woman who was now
living in her house, washing her dishes and cooking food from her freezer, wore a gun strapped to her hip, of all bizarre things.

Just when, Ellen asked herself, had her life turned into one of those made-for-TV melodramas? More to the point, what would happen in the next act? A daring rescue by the Texas Rangers? A midnight raid by the mob?

Not if she had anything to say about it. Once before she had taken control of her life; she could do it again. She would give him three days, starting with yesterday, and then she was leaving, even if she had to hitch a ride with the meter-reader all the way back home.

 

They met in one of the smaller private rooms at the club. Flynt had ordered three grilled sirloins brought in, then dismissed the waiter with a large tip. A few minutes later Tyler and Spence slipped in through a service entrance. “Thought you might be hungry by now,” Flynt said, his usually somber expression momentarily lighting. “This might have to last us awhile.”

“Thanks. Room service at the Bucking Bronco Motel runs to candy bars, bagged snacks and lukewarm colas.”

Over huge, sizzling platters, the three men quickly got down to business. “I've lined up a charter for—” Tyler checked his watch “—three hours from now. That doesn't give us much time. Spence, you're sidelined on this mission. From what I've seen so far today, you've got more than enough to take to the FBI. Once it's in their jurisdiction, you can collect your lady and stand by because we'll need someone on this end. I'm not sure what we'll run into down there.”

Spence nodded, and the other man continued to speak. “I don't know the latest on Westin's situation—my contact lost touch three days ago. Once we get word, we'll figure out how to deal with it, but right now, Luke's our main concern.”

“Can he travel?” Flynt poured more water from the frosted pitcher.

“Barely. But he'll be better off almost anywhere than in a field hospital in some Central American jungle. With any luck, we'll be able to fly him back to the States.”

Luke, severely injured, maybe blind? And he couldn't even take part in the rescue mission? Spence dropped his knife and fork with a clatter, his appetite gone. As much as he hated to admit it, Tyler was right. As in any covert mission, the fewer men who went in, the less the chance of discovery. “You'll need backup,” he said. “Two going in—three would be even better if you're going to have a chance at pulling off a clean extraction.”

“Right. Unfortunately, the hornet's nest you've stirred here has to be brought under control as quickly as possible, and you're the only one who can do it. Your timing sucks, old buddy.” Tyler summed up the situation with his usual precision.

“I'm thinking we might want to bring Ricky in on this,” Flynt said thoughtfully.

“Mercado! Are you crazy?” Tyler shoved back his chair and began pacing. “He's the last thing we need. We've got one good shot at getting Luke out of there while the military goes in after the commander. I'm going in. I know the territory.”

“And I'm in,” said Flynt immediately.

“Don't count on it,” Tyler retorted. “Hang loose
until we know what it will take to get to that field hospital. We might end up short of space, depending on how much medical personnel Luke needs to make the flight.”

It was Spence who cast the tie-breaking vote. “I say Flynt stays here as backup in case I'm tied up and you need help on this end. Ricky's done missions with us before. He was one of the team until Haley disappeared.” Luke, Flynt, Spence and Tyler had all been implicated in the disappearance of their friend's sister. Even after they'd been cleared, the breach had remained.

Flynt picked up the summary. “Look, we know Mercado's a good man to have in a tight spot, he proved that in Desert Storm. Right now he's just lost a battle with Del Brio for control of the mob, so he's looking to prove something. You want to know what I think? I think he never really wanted to head up the mob. It was because Rick didn't want Haley getting mixed up with Del Brio. At least, that's what started it. If I'm right, this might be a good time to bring him back into the fold.”

Tyler nodded thoughtfully. “And get him out of town before he ticks off the wrong guys. Okay, I'll go along with it. I'll give him a call right now.”

Flynt glanced at his watch again. “You'll need to bring him up to speed in a hurry, though, if you're going to fly south in a few hours.”

 

Ellen couldn't wait any longer. Food supplies had been delivered each day by one of the two bewhiskered guardian angels. “I want you to call me a taxi,” she said to the one she thought of as Frack. “Nobody's
looking for me, and I really do need to go home. My mares are right in the middle of foaling.”

“Now, ma'am—”

“Either you call me a cab or I'll hitchhike.”

“Now, ma'am—” The poor man tried again, but Ellen knew how to put her foot down and make it stick. She wasn't, after all, a criminal. Legally, there was no way they could keep her here against her will without risking a kidnaping charge.

“Ma'am, I'll take you home, but we'll have to let Mr. Harrison know. He's not gonna like it.”

“Go right ahead. You call anyone you need to call, but I'm going home.”

B
ack at the Bucking Bronco Motel a short while later, Spence peered through the Venetian blinds to see an old man stringing a row of Christmas lights from post to post outside the shabby stuccoed building. He came to a burned-out bulb, spat a stream of tobacco juice and began to swear.

“Don't sweat it, old man,” Spence muttered. “There are worst things in life than a burned-out bulb.” Closing the blinds against the low December sun, he yawned. He needed to sleep while he could, there might not be time later.

He had almost reached the stage of utter relaxation, his mind seeming to float somewhere over his head, when the phone rang. It was Flynt, calling to report that Tyler and Ricky had got off on schedule. “As soon as we know anything about Luke's condition, I'll be setting up things here so that if he can't make it home yet, Michael can be in touch via computer. Thank God for technology!” Michael O'Day was a top-notch surgeon as well as a good friend.

“Technology won't be much help against biology. Some of those jungle viruses aren't even in the books yet.”

“Evidently the medics knew enough to patch him up. Let's hope they knew enough to wash their hands
first. I'll keep you posted as soon as I get another report.”

Spence flexed his shoulders, sat up and rubbed his burning eyes. “How did Ricky strike you? Is he back on track?”

“I'd lay odds on it. He seemed genuinely affected when Tyler described the situation. Offered to ride shotgun on this mission, and then to go back in to try to get Westin out.”

“Alone?”

“Working single-handed, with the military, or with any of us.”

“Boy needs a hobby,” Spence said dryly. Unfortunately, his mob-connected family was trying hard to provide one. “Well, you know where I am if you need me. Damn! Of all times to be out of circulation!”

“Don't screw up now, friend. You're too close to wrapping things up. Judging from what I saw last night, you're going to have your hands full any minute now. I told Michael to hold off making any definite arrangements. Best-case scenario, they'll be bringing him home, but things don't always work out the way we plan.”

“You got that right. While they're on the scene, maybe they can get a lead on whether or not the commander's been moved.” Both men fell silent, thinking of the man who had once risked his life for theirs.

“By the way,” Flynt said, his voice carefully noncommittal. “Ricky's got some screwy idea about Haley's still being alive. Remember that conversation we overheard between him and Del Brio?”

“Haley…God, that seems like ancient history now, so much has happened since then.”

“It's still happening, my friend,” Flynt said with a
trace of wry humor that had been buried deeply for too many years. “Hang tight, I'll keep you posted.”

Exhausted from going without sleep for too long, Spence had just dozed off when the phone rang again. Groaning, he sat up, rubbed his eyes hard with his fists and reached for the instrument. “Yeah, Ha—” Hale or Harrison? “I'm here, go ahead.”

“Mr. Harrison, this is Beau out at Greasy Pond. I just took your woman home. She was cutting up something fierce, said if I didn't take her she was gonna hitchhike. I knowed you wouldn't want that.”

Spence felt the beginnings of a headache. He was too old for this life-on-the-edge stuff. Somewhere along the line he'd lost his taste for adrenaline. “Yeah, you did the right thing, Beau. How'd everything look around her place? Did you check it out?”

“Some lady wearing an apron over a sidearm opened the door. Made me come in for a cup of coffee and a plate o' something that like to burnt the hair off'n my tongue. Your lady and the kid headed directly for the barn, so I took a good look around while I was there. Guy up on a big bay stallion, come down to talk to the lady. Figgered he was one o' your folks.”

“You figured right. Jose's a retired Texas Ranger. The woman is his wife.”

“Your lady said she was some kind of a horse breeder.”

“Small time…just starting out.” Spence had long since concluded that Ellen was no natural when it came to horses. He gave her credit for hanging in there, though.

“Figgered,” the old man said drolly.

Spence thanked him, pulled both men off duty and said he'd be in touch. They were from a mom-and-pop
security firm he used occasionally, having found them completely trustworthy, if somewhat unorthodox.

“Ellen, Ellen, what am I going to do about you?” he whispered softly. Now wide awake, he gave up on getting any sleep in the near future. Instead of calling her directly, he called Jose on his cell phone. “Anything going on there? Any strangers nosing around?”

“Couple of guys turned up, said they used to work here. They took off, no questions asked.”

Which could mean almost anything, Spence thought. He asked Jose to stick around until further notice.

“We promised the grandkids we'd spend Christmas with them.”

“No problem, it should just be a couple more days. I'll have you in Laredo in plenty of time to stuff stockings.”

He hung up, yawning, rubbing his eyes, and headed for the shower. Christmas? Welcome to the real world, he thought wryly. In the real world he had an appointment to meet with an FBI agent out of Dallas in about forty-five minutes. After that, he'd be waiting to hear from Tyler or Ricky that they'd extracted Luke from the field hospital and that he was holding his own.

Which meant he wouldn't be getting much sleep anytime soon. A cold shower would have to serve. Hell, he couldn't even shave, and his beard was at the itchy stage.

 

In a small plane flying steadily over the mountainous terrain of the small Central American country of Mezcaya, having left the jungles behind, Tyler Murdoch's thoughts raced forward. They had hoped to fly directly back to the States, but Luke's condition was still too precarious to risk the longer flight. Instead, they were
heading toward the city of San Salvador. Rick had radioed ahead to the hospital. By the time they landed, there should be an ambulance waiting at the airfield.

Tyler, tensely watching the level of IV fluids, tried not to allow the droning noise to dull his edge. He had a feeling his friend had been feigning sleep for the past few hours, but not until Ricky moved forward to join the pilot did Luke open his eyes. “There's a way,” the injured man whispered, “to get the commander out.” He closed his eyes again. Tyler, now fully alert, sensed there was more to come.

“Man on the flying trapeze. Ever hear…that old song?” Weakly, Luke indicated the swaying tubes hanging over him from the stands on either side. He was being monitored and medicated, even twenty-five hundred feet above mean sea level.

“Can't say I ever did. You can fill me in on what I need to know once we get you settled. Shouldn't be much longer now.” It was hard to read an expression when three-quarters of a man's face was covered in bandages.

“Chopper. Swing in…swing out.” Luke grimaced, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his side.

Tyler said gruffly, “Pipe down, friend, we'll talk about it later. Meanwhile, how about I bring you up to speed on what's been happening lately?”

“Yeah…you do that. Feels like I've been…gone a year, at least.”

Tyler quickly changed his mind about revealing too much. His intention had been to distract, not to agitate. “Weather's been real funky. Had a hell of a rain a few weeks ago—couple of twisters came through, but didn't do much damage.” Other than sidelining their friendly D.A. with a bad case of amnesia while Frank
Del Brio, the new mob boss, pulled in a few political favors designed to manipulate the justice system more to his liking. Hardly the kind of news designed to cheer up a man who'd just had a bomb go off in his face.

Tyler still didn't know the details of what had gone wrong with Luke's mission. Last he'd heard, they had a surefire plan for getting Phillip Westin out of the hands of the guerrillas. All that would have to wait, though, until Luke's prognosis looked a bit more hopeful. “I guess you don't know about Flynt's new family.”

“Flynt? A family? What happened?” A glimmer of the old Luke came through despite the bandages and the pain medication.

“Well, there was this baby, see… We were playing one Sunday morning. Ninth tee. The usual foursome, only you weren't there, so we pulled in Michael O'Day. You know Michael.”

“The family…you said Flynt's…got a new family.”

Luke was tiring. The move had not been easy; they'd had to jog more than two miles over rough terrain, carrying him on a stretcher, to reach the clearing where the plane awaited. “Yeah, well, y'see, there was this baby in a basket. I mean, that's the last thing you expect to find on a golf course, right? A baby girl with a note on her. Wonder we didn't miss her.”

Carefully monitoring the instruments, Tyler tailored the story to fit Luke's level of endurance. “She's a girl, like I said. Cute as a button. Flynt's got her, at least until we can figure out where she belongs.”

Luke grinned, then began to chuckle, but broke off with a cough. Alarmed, Tyler gripped his hand. “Easy there, old buddy, we'll be on the ground in five
minutes. Double that and we'll have you secured to a real bed instead of this stinking canvas contraption.”

After a moment Luke Callaghan started to speak, caught his breath, then tried again. “Did I ever tell you…about that night…”

“Shhh, it can wait. Hang on now, this field doesn't look like it's in great shape. Might be a rough landing.”

Luke felt hands gripping his shoulders, sensed when Ricky Mercado came back to help steady him for the landing. The medication was beginning to wear off. To counter the pain, Luke thought about the last time he had seen Ricky's sister, Haley.

It had been at a homecoming celebration for the 14th Marines. They'd all been celebrating a bit too much when someone had suggested a midnight boat ride. Had Haley been the first to climb aboard? Probably. There'd been something almost…brittle about her that night, or so it seemed now, looking back.

“Easy there, friend, we're almost down.” Tyler's soothing voice reassured him even as his hands gripped his shoulders.

Luke closed his mind to the pain. He thought about that night at Lake Maria. He'd agreed to hold the celebration at his own estate. He remembered the laughter, the teasing, the flirting—the way they'd all piled into the small boat because Haley was there, and they'd all been in love with Haley, beautiful Haley Mercado.

That was the night she had disappeared. Drowned.

God, don't think about that, not now!

And so as he felt the flaps engage and the air speed begin to fall off, Luke thought instead of a night many months after they had been first charged, then eventu
ally cleared, in the disappearance of the woman they'd all loved.

The Saddlebag, long a favorite watering hole, had been crowded that night. He'd needed a drink…needed something, anyway. He had found it in the person of a cool, beautiful blonde who had reminded him of—

But that was crazy. Haley was dead, they'd all known that.

All the same, there'd been something about the woman who'd refused to give him her name. Said she lived in London, and had come to the States on personal business.

Luke had not been interested in her business, only in her body. Maybe it had been the beers—he'd had a few more than his usual quota. Maybe it had been—

Hell, who knew why it had happened? All he'd known was that the lady had been more than willing—even eager—and he'd been more than ready to oblige. It occurred to him now that that was exactly the kind of encounter that could lead to giveaway babies like the one Flynt had reportedly found.

But he'd taken precautions…hadn't he? He always took precautions.

He frowned, trying to remember. Still, all he could recall was how much the woman had reminded him of Haley—something in the way she moved…

He was way off base here. There was no connection. All these medications he'd been given had messed up his mind. All the same, what if Haley had lived?

Then there would have been no mysterious blonde from London.

Man you've got to cut it out, Luke told himself.

He needed to focus on regaining his sight, because he still had some unfinished business back in that bug-
ridden hellhole of a jungle prison camp. He would go back to Mission Creek to recuperate if that was what it took, but one way or another he was going to get the commander out of that stinking cell. He owed him that much and more.

The light plane touched down, bounced twice, then rolled to a halt. Before Luke could brace himself again, the doors opened and medics swarmed inside. Eyes closed, a smile on his face, he translated the words they spoke, which were the rough equivalent of, “There you go, sir, we've got you safe now.”

 

“Mom, look at her, she knows me!” Pete was as excited over the new foal as he had been the first one. “Bowser likes her, too.”

Miss Sara's little girl was called Brownie. Her papers and Bowser's papers would show something a bit more dignified in keeping with their lineage, which was respectable, if hardly spectacular. At least Ellen knew that much about registering the birth of her babies.

Seated on a three-legged stool, she worked at mending a bridle. It wasn't her favorite task, but like so many others, she'd learned to do it. Necessity brought out a surprising number of hidden talents.

“Boy, I wish Spence could see her. I bet he'd really like her.”

Hearing the wistful note in her son's voice, Ellen laid aside the strap of worn leather and sighed. She had tried to explain that Spence was an important man, with a lot of important business that would have kept him too busy to contact them for these past few days. When she had tried to describe just what it was that a district attorney did, Pete had summed it up in his own terms. “Getting the bad guys.”