Warrior Without Rules. Nancy Gideon
drop-off box downtown. No way to trace it. I’ll have it checked for fingerprints just in case our friend was careless.”
“He won’t be.”
Zach’s silence said he didn’t think so either. He didn’t ask how she was doing, coming even more quickly to the point than Veta. It would have been nice to know he cared.
“In the future, you accept nothing yourself. Not packages, not phone calls, not visitors. Everything goes through me.”
“Rule One.”
“Exactly. Your employees have been advised of that, as well.” A pause then right to the heart of it. “Tell me about the blouse.”
Toni sucked a deep gulp of frigid air to help maintain her calm front. “I was wearing it when I was kidnapped.”
His voice softened imperceptibly. “And the bloodstains on it?”
“Mine, I think.” She closed her eyes, mentally flinching as she recalled the harsh slap in the van and the coppery taste that filled her mouth.
“I’ll have it tested.” He put up his hand to ward off her protest. “No worries. Strictly off the records and low key. A favor from a friend.” Then his look grew more serious. “Who took it off you?”
“That’s a dead end. Literally.” She took another pull off the cigarette. The palsied tremor in her hand belied her cool summation.
“So, who would have kept it for ten years? And why? Where would it have been?”
“A souvenir? A trophy? I don’t know.” Frustration built in her tone as she considered the possibilities. “The other man was never caught. Maybe he was just biding his time until I came into money since he couldn’t get any from my father the first time around.” A patient premeditation. Where’s the money? Her worst nightmare come true. “If only I knew what he wanted.”
“You need to cancel tomorrow night’s party.”
Her reply was automatic. “No.”
“So many people coming and going and in the house makes you more vulnerable.”
She twisted in the chair to look up at him. He was staring out over the lake, his expression as inviting as those cold waters. “No. Hire more guards. Increase security. That’s your job. My job is business as usual. I will not hide from this man. I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me afraid.”
But she was. And no matter how much bravado she flung up between them, he had to know it.
“We’ll compromise. Throw your shindig tomorrow but no press conferences, no public appearances thereafter. Low profile, just like you said. I can’t cover all bases if you’re the center of attention in a crowd.”
Her acceptance was purely practical. “All right.”
Zach squinted at her, doubting her sincerity. “No public PR things in Mexico, no opportunities for the bad guys to get close to you.”
She shivered slightly. “Deal.”
“In. Out. Back to business.”
When she lifted the cigarette for another pull, Zach intercepted the movement, plucking the half smoked filter tip from her hand. He took one last long draw from it himself before flicking it away.
“Those are bad for you.”
His bland pronouncement was the last straw for this already broken camel. “Bad for me? Having someone stalk and terrorize me is bad for me.”
“But you can’t control that. You can control what you choose to do to yourself. Like taking unnecessary risks with people who don’t really matter.”
“Thank you Dr. Freud. And I’ll thank you to remember your own Rule Three. My personal habits are none of your concern, Russell, so back the hell off.”
His level gaze never flickered. “They are if they make my job more difficult.”
“Deal with it.”
“My rules. My way.”
Their stares battled for supremacy, then she finally relented with a stiff “Yes, sir.”
He nodded. “Good girl. Now, what’s on your plate for the rest of the day?”
With her thoughts and emotions so embroiled in the past, it was hard to focus on the hours of the day that remained. She took a deep breath to clear her mental slate. “About three hours worth of business calls. Nothing that you’d care to sit through.”
“Your agenda is my agenda. Don’t feel you have to entertain me.”
“That was nowhere near the top of my list of concerns.”
A faint smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You don’t have to hurt my feelings.”
Because she was thinking how seriously sexy that small smile made him, Toni’s reply cracked with irritation. “As if that could happen.”
His features settled back into their impassive lines.
Sighing with aggravation, she pushed up out of the chair. “Well, come on, then. Time to get back to work.”
And work she did. Tirelessly. Aggressively. With a level of determination and energy that exhausted him as he watched and said nothing.
She had an office on the second floor that capped one end of the house. Three sides were glass. Instead of conventional heavy wood, the furniture was a light, airy wicker and the cushions splashed with bold colors. He stretched out on a surprisingly comfortable chaise while she made her calls to everyone from distributors, trucking companies and printers to talk show hosts, sport and fashion magazine editors discussing the move, the new spring merchandise and her succession to the throne of power. With her calendar and Rolodex flipping, she set up appointments in L.A., New York, and Dallas in the upcoming months and, true to her word, canceled those in Mexico. She treated each individual with charm, respect and an underlying authority. She was very good at her job. Zach had to wonder why her father worried. The company was obviously in loving and capable hands.
Because the sight of her against the backdrop of the setting sun made a picture too achingly beautiful to behold for long, Zach closed his eyes, letting the crisp cadence of her voice become music to his weary soul. He stirred restlessly on the lounge, shifting to find a level of comfort that escaped him. His hand throbbed meanly. His eyes ached with the gritty burn of too little sleep but real slumber was a distant luxury he couldn’t afford. Instead, he eased into the twilight state that served him while in the field when the ability to hear an enemy coming was the only thing that kept him alive. Dozing lightly on the edge of awareness, he considered the puzzle of his situation.
Why had Castillo requested his return? The man had done everything within his considerable power to have Zach dismissed from his position. Dereliction of duty and gross incompetence. The shame of it still burned like the sting of Jack’s neat stitches. Ten years ago. He’d been so green. His first big assignment. And nearly his last. If it hadn’t been for the respect his superiors had held for his father, he might have ended up selling those shoes the lovely Ms. Castillo manufactured.
And yet Castillo had sought out Jack, asking him to use his connections to find him in whatever hell hole he’d buried himself for the sake of Queen and country. He wasn’t an easy man to find. He’d left above board intelligence work behind shortly after the fiasco with Antonia Castillo, sinking deeper and deeper into the covert mire until he was no longer sure which agency pulled the strings. But he never once wavered from his course. His were no longer the slick, debonair James Bond-type assignments, but he didn’t mind getting his hands dirty for a good cause. As long as that cause allowed him a measure of justice. He was realistic enough to know that was all he would ever get.
Jack’s offer of a job had taken him by surprise. Jack Chaney was one of the very few who understood Zach’s true motives and knew they had nothing to do with the Royals or the