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  “Enough, all right? I said we’d talk about it later.” He turned to leave the balcony, but Clare caught his arm.

  “I said I’d do anything—damn you, Jake, I would die for my son.” Her voice low and emphatic, Clare dug her fingers into his arm. “If it comes down to that…to you having to make a choice, Tyler or me, I want you to save my son. Take him somewhere he’ll be safe, where they’d never be able to find him. Will you promise me that much?“

  “Okay, I’ll make you a promise.”

  Clare gasped as Jake pulled her back into their room and shut the balcony door. He gripped her by the upper arms, hard.

  “I promise that you’re going to get us killed if you’re not more careful about yelling in hotel rooms and broadcasting your plans from balconies. When the time is right, I’ll let you know if there’s anything I want you to do to help me. Fair enough? Until then, I need you to be patient and to play your part of Mrs. Kathy Fisher. That means going with me to get something to eat, smiling, and looking like you’re having a good time on our vacation.”

  He released her abruptly and moved to the door, but Clare held her ground and remained by the bed although she imagined he’d expected her to follow him. When he turned around, she could tell he was growing angry from the heated look in his eyes but she lifted her chin and shook her head.

  “No. I’m not going anywhere until you promise me about Tyler—”

  “I promise.”

  He’d said the words so quietly she thought she might have imagined them, but his expression was deadly serious. “You mean…if it comes to you having to choose—”

  “I’ll do as you asked me. Satisfied?”

  She should have been, but she needed one more assurance. “My plan…if you think it might work—”

  “Believe me, Clare, if I have to use you somehow to get your son back, I will.”

  His tone was so grim, she felt a chill…like someone stepping on her grave.

  Oddly enough, Clare had the strange sense that Jake might have thought of such a plan already, but she decided not to ask him. She’d pushed things far enough.

  She grabbed her jacket from the bed and without another word, followed him out the door.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Downtown Monterrey

  “Is our discussion boring you, Eduardo? Something outside the window more interesting?”

  “No, of course not, Manuel.” Eduardo shifted in his chair and glanced around the conference room at the six other men who sat silently, their full attention focused upon his brother-in-law seated at the head of the table. Fucking ass-lickers. If Manuel Castillo so much as farted, they’d stand up and applaud. Eduardo felt Manuel staring at him as if waiting for something, and he cleared his throat. “I was thinking about our situation in Laredo, what you were just talking about—”

  “I’m gratified you were listening. I’ll leave the matter to you. I want that bank’s continued cooperation, whatever it takes.”

  Eduardo clenched his teeth and said nothing while Manuel turned to speak in a private aside to another of his lackeys who’d just walked into the room.

  As strikingly handsome a man as his younger sister Maria was beautiful, Manuel and she could have been twins but for the ten years between them—and they both had a death grip around Eduardo’s throat that galled him to his core. If he kept his mouth shut and played along, someday he would be sitting at the head of the conference table and Maria’s threat could no longer touch him. It had long been his obsession to be rid of Manuel and take control over his vast organization but now Eduardo’s goal had taken on greater urgency thanks to his wife. He just had to wait for the right moment to strike—

  “That’s enough discussion for tonight. Eduardo, stay behind.”

  The six other men, key players in Manuel’s network, rose as if in unison and began to file out of the room while Eduardo’s tension mounted. Now what? He’d already been given the task of squeezing their front man’s balls at the Laredo bank, the fool starting to panic from the escalating violence in Nuevo Laredo and suggesting they go elsewhere due to the increasing number of Feds in the area.

  Manuel had laundered money there for years under the guise of any number of dummy corporations, and Eduardo had taken advantage of creating a few as well for his own interests—without Manuel’s knowledge and thanks to the Facilitator’s American connections.

  They used the same set-up from Brownsville to El Paso, and Manuel had never let the Feds intimidate him before. Maybe he wanted to discuss flooding the bank with cash and then cooling it for a while, either that or slowing things down altogether but maintaining the bank’s cooperation as he’d said.

  “Drink?” Manuel asked.

  Eduardo shook his head. Manuel shrugged and went to the well-stocked bar to pour himself a Scotch. A drink sounded good, but Eduardo rarely consumed alcohol around his brother-in-law.

  He had so much on his mind—Maria, Daniel, his interfering mother-in-law who’d left the ranch in just enough time for Eduardo to make this meeting, that missing Carson woman—he couldn’t afford not keeping a firm grip on his faculties. He’d been thinking about that American bitch when Manuel had caught him staring out the window. He couldn’t stop thinking about her and where she might be.

  “You’re doing it again.”

  Eduardo met Manuel’s shrewd gaze, but he didn’t blink and didn’t say a word.

  “You’ve been very preoccupied lately. Too preoccupied. I can understand it’s been just over two weeks since Daniel—”

  “You have your three sons, Manuel, alive, healthy. Leave me to thoughts of mine."

  That much was true, and it seemed to satisfy his brother-in-law. Manuel took a long sip of Scotch and turned to stare out the window at the panoramic view of Monterrey, the last shreds of a magnificent sunset fading behind the mountains.

  “Perhaps you and Maria need some time away—a few weeks, maybe a month. She’s always loved Los Cabos. It would cheer her”—Manuel turned to face Eduardo and pointed an index finger at him—”and help to re-focus your mind. It’s a challenging time. More Feds along the border mean more eyes and ears prying into our affairs. We may find ourselves very busy in the months ahead. We may need new places to funnel cash, fresh banks and more legitimate businesses to front our enterprises. We must be sharp, always thinking ahead.“

  “Traveling to Los Cabos is not the way for me to stay sharp.” Eduardo shifted in his chair and tried not to show his mounting irritation. “I prefer to work, the more the better.”

  “As I said, I’m not thinking only of you. My mother fears for Maria’s well being. You know she visited my sister today, and she wasn’t pleased. Maria was nervous and distracted, at times staring off into the distance and smiling to herself as if pleased by some private thought—”

  “Isn’t it better she smile than weep or lay silent as stone in her bed?”

  “Yes, but my mother could not coax out of her anything of what had cheered her. If she thought of Daniel, Maria kept it to herself and it grieved my mother, Eduardo. She and my sister have always been close. Maria builds a cocoon around herself and we’re concerned for her sanity. Does this not alarm you?”

  Alarm? As rage twisted his gut that Maria could so easily destroy him, Eduardo felt his face growing hot but he could only sit there and stare back at his brother-in-law. “Daniel meant everything to her…to me. We both grieve, but in time—”

  “A few days, Eduardo, no more. I understand why you would take Maria from the city to get her away from the house and its memories, but your ranch is too remote to hold any diversion for her. If my mother believes Maria is growing no better, you will take her to Los Cabos. Do you understand me? Wine and dine her, take her shopping, treat her like a queen and promise her anything if it will make her happy.”

  “I already fucking did.” Eduardo had muttered under his breath but he had no fear that Manuel had heard him. His brother-in-law had turned back to the window and his Scotch, dismissing h
im as summarily as usual with a brusque wave of his hand.

  Eduardo hated him so deeply for that familiar gesture alone. He got up out of his chair and was almost to the door when Manuel glanced over his shoulder at him.

  “I grieve for Daniel, too, Eduardo. He was a good boy.”

  A sharp lump closed Eduardo’s throat and he said nothing, only nodded and then left the room.

  * * *

  Clare stared at the king-size bed and quickly chose her side, the one nearest the sliding doors to the balcony.

  After she’d had a few moments in the bathroom, Jake had taken his turn and disappeared to change his clothes—this time with the door shut—while she’d hastily kicked off her shoes and socks and then stripped out of her jeans. He’d neglected to buy anything for her to sleep in so she kept on her T-shirt, bra and panties. She climbed into the bed and sat there rubbing her bare arms for warmth, the room so cool that goosebumps puckered her skin.

  At least she thought it was because of the air-conditioner. She lay down and slid further between the sheets, then drew the covers up to her chin as she stared at the ceiling. She could hear water running and Jake brushing his teeth, which meant he’d soon be coming out of the bathroom and getting into bed.

  She occupied her half, of course. He’d be on his half. She glanced at the expanse from her pillow to his pillow and decided to roll over almost to the edge of the bed and face the sliding doors. Good. Even more room between them. No chance at all that they’d accidentally touch during the night—

  “You’re going to fall off the bed if you move over any farther.”

  Clare grimaced under the covers and drew them closer around her head, still shivering. “I’m all right. I usually sleep near the edge.”

  “Really? That’s not the edge, it’s almost mid-air.”

  Clare didn’t respond but sucked in her breath as Jake turned off the bathroom light. She could hear his footfalls on the carpet and she gathered the covers even closer, her heart beginning to race.

  Dear God, this was so ridiculous.

  She was being so ridiculous. She must look like an Egyptian mummy wrapped up in the covers and he was right, she was teetering on the edge of the bed.

  So what if she hadn’t shared a bed with any man since she’d left Billy. This was make-believe, a charade, and she was making a complete fool of herself. She peered out from beneath the covers. Jake had stripped down to his boxers and stared out the sliding doors into the night, the dim light from the beach patio below faintly illuminating his face.

  He looked so serious, but he always looked serious other than the times he’d been playing the attentive new husband. How could he not? They weren’t here for a picnic, and might not make it home to Texas at all.

  She didn’t want to think of that stark possibility, but she couldn’t ignore reality. She’d seen enough blood and death in one day to already know just how precarious a situation they faced. She felt an icy chill much like the one she’d felt before they’d gone out to eat, and she knew it wasn’t due to the cool air.

  “Jake?”

  He turned his face to her slowly as if she’d caught him deep in thought. “Yeah?”

  “Do you think we really have a chance to leave here with Tyler? From Monterrey, I mean, once we get there—”

  “Remember what I said about asking too many questions? Go to sleep, Clare.”

  He’d cut her off so abruptly, treating her like a child. Clare lay silent for a moment to count to ten, then threw back the covers and sat up in bed. “I don’t know what it is with you and questions—”

  “I don’t have an answer for you, all right? Not for that one, not yet.” He moved away from the sliding doors and sank into an armchair in the corner, the opaque drapery throwing his face into shadow. “Ask me tomorrow when I’ve had a chance to talk to some people—if any of them are still around. I’ve been gone a long time.”

  “Why did you leave? You’re obviously not in the military anymore, no longer an attaché as you called it. Did you retire?”

  “Six months before getting in my twenty years. A stupid move, they told me, but it made sense to me. Settled down in a small town halfway between Nuevo Laredo and Monterrey.”

  The room grew silent as Clare absorbed this information, struck again by just how little she knew about him. Nothing, really. A tiny glimpse, here and there. He knew far more about her. She supposed it wasn’t essential that they knew much about each other but her curiosity was aroused all the same. “You didn’t want to return to the U.S.?”

  “My wife was Mexican. A journalist. Believed the power of words could change things, the drugs, the corruption, but instead it got her raped and murdered.” He paused, exhaling heavily. “Heard enough for one night?”

  Jake’s voice was so harsh that Clare didn’t dare to speak for a long moment.

  His wife murdered? Instead of satisfying her curiosity, she had a hundred more questions. “Jake…I’m so sorry. It must have been terrible—”

  “Terrible enough. Try to get some sleep. We may find ourselves on a flight to Monterrey tomorrow, who knows.”

  Her breath catching, Clare stared at him but she couldn’t see his face in the shadows.

  Tomorrow? Might she see Tyler so soon? Hold him in her arms again, touch his hair, and hear his voice? Jake’s shocking news about his wife momentarily forgotten, she lay down and pulled the covers back up to her chin.

  Things were happening so fast, but she supposed anything was possible—no matter that Jake right now didn’t have any answers for her. Hopefully some of the people he’d mentioned would help them find Tyler. She closed her eyes tightly and sent a prayer that Jake would be able to locate them.

  “Chances are it could go the other way and we’re here for several days, Clare. Don’t get your hopes up too high.”

  She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, deciding Jake had asked her another impossible thing. Her hopes for Tyler were already soaring.

  * * *

  Jake leaned his head back against the chair and rubbed his eyes.

  Why the hell had he said anything about Isabella? If there was one thing he’d learned about Clare, she could be stubbornly determined when she’d set her mind on something. What were the odds she’d refrain from asking him more personal questions? Zero. He didn’t have to answer them but just the same, he could feel her mental wheels spinning right now even though she was pretending to go to sleep.

  And why the hell had he been touching her so much? Sure, they were playing the happy couple but he’d gone way too far with the charade and he knew it.

  He liked kissing her. He liked touching her. She looked good and she tasted good. Did the woman have any sense at all of how attractive she was or had her loser of an ex-husband knocked the self-esteem right out of her?

  Jake stared at the rigid lump in the bed and wondered how long it might take before Clare finally fell asleep.

  He felt like he could rest, too, if he shut his eyes long enough. If he slept at all, though, it wouldn’t be in that bed with her. He was a man, but he wasn’t a fool.

  Their constant close proximity was one thing, but he’d felt how she kissed him back. He’d seen her cheeks flushing pink whenever he touched her and when she’d stared at him in the shower. He hadn’t bargained for their mutual attraction, and it was the last damned thing he wanted to be thinking about right now.

  Jake lunged out of the armchair and opened the sliding door, the humid night air tinged with the salty smell of the sea and crude oil. The water along this coastline was filthy. It amazed him that anyone swam in it or even used the beaches.

  He smelled flowers, too, and rotting garbage, the country as full of contradictions as he remembered. Mexico could be beautiful, its people, the landscape, but so deadly, too, at least the side of it that he’d worked in. It had given him the only woman he’d loved, and then snatched her away. Maybe within the next few days, he’d learn who had killed her—

  Clare sighed
and rolled over in bed. Jake imagined he’d hurt her feelings from speaking so curtly to her, but maybe now she’d finally go to sleep. He needed some time to think about tomorrow and the people he wanted to track down, but another thought plagued him.

  Dammit, why had he made that promise to Clare? If it came down to him choosing between her and Tyler, what would he do?

  He fully intended to use her as bait if it got him the information he wanted, but he didn’t plan to wantonly risk her life. If everything fell together, all three of them would make it alive out of Mexico. She’d realized herself that subterfuge might help them, surprising him with her courage and intuitively echoing his own plan—but he didn’t want to face having to make some insane choice.

  Jake gazed out over the water at the blinking lights serving as beacons for ships moving in and out of the port, but then his glance was drawn back into the room.

  Clare must have fallen asleep. The covers gently rose and fell with each breath, her head snuggled deep into the pillow.

  She looked so peaceful, at least for a few short hours. He thought of joining her in the bed and then decided the chair was the better idea. He doubted he’d sleep much anyway, and he didn’t want to disturb her.

  He didn’t want her to get hurt, either, or her kid. If it came down to choosing, he knew what he’d do. He’d taken a bullet before.

  What the hell.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “I can’t believe it’s you,” a familiar voice said into the phone. “When you’d get to Tampico?”