Читать книгу Hostage Situation - Debra Webb - Страница 8

Chapter Two

If Renee had thought the exterior of the house was well appointed, the interior was nothing short of lavish. Cool, sleek marble and cypress floors and soaring ceilings. From where she stood in the entry hall, she could see straight through to the endless blue of the ocean beyond a wall of towering French doors.

The floating staircase in the entry hall was at once grand and utterly modern. Somewhere inside the house the windows stood open, filling the air with the ocean’s lightly salted breeze. It seemed strange to her that he would allow open windows, much less the unobstructed view from the rear of his house. Then she remembered that she hadn’t been able to see in from the outside. Obviously the windows were equipped with a special tint or screening. And if the security system was half as state-of-the-art as she suspected, he likely wasn’t worried about an unexpected intrusion, either.

After all, this was Paul. His brother Victor was the one who had to watch his back so closely.

“This way,” he said, drawing her attention back to him. Their gazes met briefly before he turned to lead her deeper into the luxurious home.

Renee reminded herself to keep an eye on the man when her attention wanted to revel in the exquisite details around her. Evidently his artistic talent extended to his taste in design. Either that, or he’d hired himself one hell of a great interior designer.

They took a right at the grand entrance to the great room with its compelling ocean view. This side corridor provided access to several doors; he chose the second on the right—a library. The room was far too richly adorned to be called a home office. The wall of book-filled shelves lent credence to the idea of a library.

He paused in the middle of the room, looked at her and then at the purse she carried. “You mentioned a proposal,” he reminded, his tone openly dubious.

“Oh, yes.” She fished the BlackBerry from her purse. “It’s quite an extensive proposal.” She glanced around the room, her gaze landing on the computer on his desk. “I can download it if that would be more convenient.” She held her breath, hoped he would go for her suggestion.

The three-second pause that followed had her heart missing a beat.

At last he swept a hand in the direction of the desk. “Be my guest.”

Able to breathe again, she moved across the room to his sleek desk. She sat down, retrieved the portable cable from her purse and used it to connect her BlackBerry to his hard drive. A minute later, she had downloaded the proposal. The proposal was legitimate, but imbedded within its program was an interface that would allow her to remotely access his computer from her BlackBerry. Any files stored there might provide valuable information on his brother Victor; then again, they could very well offer nothing at all. She hoped like hell his security software wouldn’t recognize the bug and work to disable it before she could accomplish her mission.

Sam Johnson, the newest associate at the Equalizers, had brought the software with him from L.A. One of the scientists he’d worked with had been a computer buff and had designed the basically invisible intruding interface to check up on what his girlfriend was doing on the Net while he worked the nightshift at the state forensics lab. He had suspected an online romance. He’d found out far more than he’d wanted to know.

“Here we go.” She pushed out of his chair and gestured to the screen where the proposal portion of the program had opened to reveal the first eye-catching page. She needed him impressed.

He searched her face long enough to make her nervous. Surely he couldn’t know already that she was there under false pretenses. She hadn’t made any mistakes. As nervous as she felt, on the outside she appeared calm. She wore what she considered her courtroom face.

“You must forgive my manners,” he said suddenly as if he’d been lost in thought for a moment. “I so rarely have guests that I sometimes forget what is expected. Would you care for refreshments, Ms. Parsons?”

Relief rushed along her limbs. “Call me Renee,” she urged before manufacturing a friendly smile. “A drink would be great.” This was a move in the right direction. She needed him to feel comfortable in her presence. If only she could manage the same. The tension had ebbed a fraction, but it still had her on edge. Maybe that went with the territory.

“Why don’t we attend to our thirst before we review your proposal?”

The idea that putting the proposal on his computer might have made him somewhat suspicious crossed her mind but she’d just have to play this out and see what happened. That her fingers had gone ice cold was not good. In the courtroom, she had gone in with guns blazing and had never once let the competition see her sweat. To a great extent, she was out of her element here. Her reactions weren’t going to be her usual controlled responses. That was to be expected, she reminded herself. As long as she didn’t let him see her fear, there was no need to stress.

Paul Reyes led the way down the corridor, beyond the entry hall to the sprawling kitchen that claimed a sizeable chunk of the downstairs floor space on the front side of the house. Gleaming stainless steel appliances maintained the modern edge, but lots of granite and tumbled marble infused an organic element. The limestone floor and wall-to-wall windows, along with the simple furnishings, ensured a casual elegance. With a deftness born of repetition, her host prepared a blend of fresh juices and garnished the concoction with sprigs of mint.

He offered a stemmed glass to her. “Far more healthy than wine.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the glass and sipped the blend, careful not to show her surprise at his nonalcoholic choice. “I suppose you work out, as well.” He certainly looked fit. She told herself she hadn’t really noticed, that making the comment was about laying the groundwork for a common physical connection, but that was only part truth. Paul Reyes was a handsome man with a deep, silky voice and just enough of an accent to make him inordinately sexy. And the body—well, there was one for the covers of the hottest magazines. She imagined that the man would look damn good in most anything or nothing at all. Getting close to him wouldn’t be a chore.

“Staying fit is imperative to my image,” he insisted with a blatant survey of her, from her pink toenails to her unrestrained hair. “The mind and body must be in agreement. Don’t you agree?”

The way he looked at her set her further on edge. It shouldn’t have. She needed him to be attracted to her. That was the point of the scoop-necked blouse and the form-fitting, low-slung slacks. But that predatory gleam in his eyes was more than she’d bargained for this early in the game. Or maybe she just hadn’t expected that kind of overt reaction from a man so withdrawn in almost every other respect.

“Oh yes,” she stammered. “I heartily agree.”

He smiled, obviously enjoying her discomfort. “Are you one of the Los Angeles gallery’s regular buyers?” he inquired. “This is what you do?”

“Actually,” she heaved a beleaguered sigh and launched her well-planned story, “no. I was asked to approach you personally because I’m such a huge fan of your work. The owner is hoping my passion will prove persuasive enough to close the deal. I hate to come off as a starstruck fan, but that’s exactly what I am.”

If her answer moved him in any way, he kept it hidden well. Those dark eyes remained steady on her until the need to shift with uneasiness was nearly overwhelming. She held her ground, refused to allow him to see that he made her far too nervous. This was her new career. She refused to fail.

“Passion is a very powerful tool, Renee. In my line of work, it is critical to all involved. One should never be ashamed of passion.”

Beyond the idea of how much she liked the way he said her name, his answer brushed her senses the wrong way. Gave her pause.

My line of work.

Perhaps it was simply a matter of communication differences. After all, English was not his first language. Semantics, she argued. No need to send her suspicion radar to the next level over the way he used a couple of words. She was overanalyzing. Being nervous made her do that. Once she relaxed more fully into her role, she would be fine.

“Shall we get back to the proposal?” she prompted, needing her strict agenda to get her back on track. Her success in the courtroom was rooted, first and foremost, on extensive preparation. She needed to treat this assignment along those same lines until she hit her stride with the whole “getting comfortable” part.

He placed his half-empty glass on the island’s sleek granite counter. She did the same. This time they walked side by side as they retraced the route to his library. The sun had sunk deep on the horizon, melting into a golden blanket over the vast blue ocean and offering a spectacular panorama.

The idea that drug money may have contributed to this magnificent residence caused the muscles in her jaw to tighten. But this man was not a part of that, she reminded herself. It didn’t mean that he hadn’t accepted money or gifts from his evil sibling, but he was innocent of his brother’s crimes. If anyone should feel guilty, it was her, but she did not. The end justified the means. That was her new motto. She intended to use him to lure his death-dealing brother into a trap. Despite the break in the relationship with his only sibling, biology dictated a bond that assuredly went deep. He might hate what his brother did, but to plot his sibling’s downfall was another concept altogether, one toward which he might very well be disinclined. The only way to most reasonably assure his cooperation was to mislead him. She’d already lied to him repeatedly and would several times more before this first meeting was over. Paul Reyes would have no fond memories of her when this was over.

“As you can see,” she said as she moved through the first section of the presentation, “our gallery would display your ability to capture the essence of the sand and water and sky to its fullest advantage. Southern California isn’t unlike the Keys, in more ways than perhaps you realize. Your work would fit in very nicely, would bring a fresh perspective to our gallery’s already outstanding offerings. We have an international clientele, more so than you’ll find here, no disrespect to the local talent or trade.”

“Please,” he made a sweeping motion toward the computer screen with one hand, “go on.”

Renee couldn’t determine if he was intrigued yet, but she still had his full attention and that was something. As the final slide in the proposal was displayed on the screen, she made the next move. “I know you’ll need some time to think over all of this. Perhaps we could have dinner tomorrow evening.” She lifted one shoulder in the barest of shrugs. “Discuss any questions you might have in a more relaxed, nonbusiness rendezvous.”

His hesitation was expected. As a recluse, he would have no desire to leave his sanctuary. However, the invitation needed to be standard. The average person wouldn’t know all that she did about him. The slightest misstep could give away her true agenda.

“That’s an excellent idea, Renee.” He glanced at the computer screen one last time. “I’ll review your proposal more thoroughly and make my final decision. I would prefer, however,” his gaze connected with hers once more, “to have our next rendezvous here. I assume that will be acceptable to you?”

Exactly the answer she had hoped for. “Of course.” Now for the finishing touch. “I’ll be in town for the next few days. My schedule is completely at your disposal, Mr. Reyes.”

“Paul,” he suggested for the first time since her arrival.

She smiled, held his gaze a beat. “Paul.” This she said with a breathy quality that caused his pupils to flare and the corners of his mouth to lift slightly. The idea that she might be better at this than she’d anticipated gave her confidence a major boost.

The tension crackled ever so slightly as he blatantly assessed her for a second time, taking his slow, sweet time. “Seven,” he said, breaking the spell, “would that work for you?”

“Seven definitely works for me.” She reached for her bag. “I look forward to discussing our future working relationship and seeing more of your paintings.” Her expression turned visibly hopeful with the last.

“That can certainly be arranged.” He placed his hand at the small of her back as he guided her to the hall and toward the front door. “My studio provides a great deal of inspiration.” He paused as they reached the entry hall and looked directly at her. “At times, however, I find myself in need of additional stimulation. A beautiful woman can be extremely stirring to a man’s blood.”

Now they were getting somewhere, it seemed. “I can’t wait to see your studio.”

The smile slid back into place. “You will receive the grand tour, I assure you.”

A definite click followed by a roaring sound, similar to that of several garage doors closing simultaneously, jerked his attention back toward the interior of the house. Renee followed his gaze.

Barriers slowly closed down over the windows, blocking the magnificent view. Had a hurricane warning triggered the house’s security system? The metal-on-metal action of locks being set in motion hauled her attention back to the front door.

What the hell was happening?

“Renee.” Reyes swiveled to face her. “Something is wrong. You must run! Now!”

He reached for the door, but it was locked. He tugged at it frantically.

Her pulse shot into warp speed. “The security system,” she urged, “can you shut it down?” Apparently the system had gone into some sort of automatic secure mode.

Reaching for the keypad next to the door he fairly shouted, “I do not understand this.” He jabbed buttons to no avail. “This has never happened before.”

Footfalls on the floor behind them had her wheeling around. Two men. Large. Threatening. She dropped into a crouch, her attention riveted on the two men advancing as she grabbed for her weapon.

“Don’t move!” the first man barked, his weapon leveled on her.

With no desire to get killed, she pushed her hands up and slowly rose to her full height once more.

“Who are you?” Reyes demanded. “What do you want?”

“You,” the second man snapped as he moved in close enough to press the barrel of his.9 millimeter against Reyes’s forehead.

As Renee attempted to position herself between the two men in an effort to protect Reyes, an arm went around her neck. Something like a mask closed over her mouth and nose. She fought the strong arms manacling her. Her lungs burning, she gasped for air.

Then her vision narrowed until there was nothing.

Her body stopped fighting and went limp.

Merida, Mexico Same Day 6:50 p.m.

HIS EYES HAD CLOSED, the lids far too heavy to restrain. Staying awake was no longer possible. The weariness had overtaken him quickly this night. Too many sleepless ones had come and gone. He needed to rest…but if he slipped too deeply into that welcoming oblivion, he might not hear the enemy’s arrival.

He needed to stay awake. Yet he was so very tired. For days that had become weeks, he had fought the temptation, had struggled to survive on stolen moments of mere dozing. He could trust no one.

How much longer could he be held prisoner this way?

What purpose did his brother hope to serve with his actions? None of this made sense. He had long ago taken leave of his brother’s company. Refused to be a part of his love of spreading pain and death.

The click of the lock jerked his head up and his eyes wide open.

It could be the devil…come to finish the job at last. Part of him would be glad to have this nightmare over. This moment had been coming for years. He should have seen that. No one would be left to bear witness to his rottenness. Escaping the reality of their strained relationship had been merely a dream. One could not deny evil when it thrived in his very blood.

The door opened slowly. Even in the near darkness, he saw the hesitant movement of his visitor. Not his brother. Some amount of relief lowered the choking tension to a more tolerable level. His eyes had days ago adjusted to the lack of light.

Juanita cautiously peeked around the partially opened door. “Señor?” Her voice was small and worried. She should be worried. She had played a part in this vile plan, had made herself an accomplice to his brother’s selfish scheming.

In spite of the many reasons to doubt the possibility, hope stirred. Had he at last gained an ally? Or was this another trick?

“Have you had a change of heart, woman?” He asked this in English, refused to speak the native tongue of his betrayers. He had known this woman since he was a small boy. His mother had trusted her, had allowed her to look after her only children. Were his mother still alive, she would be gravely disappointed. There was no longer any loyalty in this family.

Juanita slipped into the room that had served as a prison for the past month, or had it been longer? On some level, he had reconciled to the likely fate that he would die here.

The light that followed Juanita into his prison accentuated the somber features of her thin face and her downcast gaze. He imagined that guilt kept her from looking him in the eye. He was being held prisoner in his own birth home. He had given up on the possibility of ever seeing the light of day again. His own people had turned on him, motivated by whatever threats made or gifts offered by his monster of a brother.

“I have, señor,” Juanita confessed sadly. “You were right. He is evil. I have heard whispers that he plans to cut off your head—” she shuddered “—when he returns. No matter what you’ve done, I cannot allow him to harm you this way.”

The threat of death was not unexpected. Why else would he be held prisoner like this? There was no turning back now. Whatever his brother was up to, he would leave no loose ends to fray. Yet even as the anger against his last living blood relative expanded inside him, he yearned for answers. His heart wouldn’t simply let go of the need to know the answers as to why he had come to be in this position, at the mercy of his own kin. What had changed? Why the sudden determination to come against him…after all this time? There had to be some scheme in place.

He should have gone to the authorities years ago and put a stop to his brother’s dealings. As a child, he had promised his mother that he would look out for his brother. Even then, she had known that something was not right with her eldest child. Maintaining his allegiance to that promise had been a mistake; looking the other way for so many years was a crime.

If he survived what was to come, he would settle this score once and for all.

“And what is it I have done that has brought about my imprisonment and impending death?” he asked the woman hovering with such uncertainty.

She eased back a step, positioning herself in the open doorway as if she feared she might need to quickly run away. Still, she refused to meet his gaze. “Señor, there is no need to speak of the past unless it is to pray for mercy on your soul.”

Her hand trembled as it came to rest on the door in preparation for yanking it closed if necessary. Would she rather lock him back up in this room than answer a simple question?

“We must speak of it, Juanita,” he insisted, “for I have no idea why this has happened.” Other than the fact that his brother was as insane as his vile acts would suggest. But there would be much more than that. The need to uncover this plan sent much-needed adrenaline pumping through him. “Tell me what it is that you believe I have done.”

For several moments, he was certain she did not intend to answer. Finally, her mouth worked mutely for a moment and then the words tumbled out. “You killed them, señor. All of them.” Her voice trembled. She cleared her throat and began again. “Your brother put you here to protect you until he could ensure the authorities were satisfied. But I have learned that he plans to kill you himself, not protect you at all. I cannot permit such a thing. Your madre would not want me to allow this end, no matter your crimes.”

This made no sense. He had not killed anyone. “Who have I killed, Juanita?”

“The missionaries,” she whispered, then crossed herself. “You killed them all.”

Shock radiated through him, rendering him momentarily unable to speak. “You are sure they are dead? All five?” His voice was quavering.

Juanita nodded jerkily. “The authorities are saying the rebels did the killing. Your brother saw to it that your name was kept from the trouble that has finally grown quiet. But now he plans to kill you so that you cannot do such a thing again. It was an act against God the Father.” She crossed herself once more. “Your brother says that your death is necessary in order to obtain forgiveness for you as well as for himself.” At last she lifted her gaze to his. “I have known you since you were a small boy. I cannot watch you die by the hand of your own brother. Forgiveness or no forgiveness, it is not right.”

“What shall we do about this, Juanita?” He wanted to rise up from his position on the floor. To urge the woman who had known him for most of his life to act now. There was no time to waste. But he did not want to risk frightening her with any sudden moves. In addition, the price could prove to be very high if Juanita’s participation in his escape were discovered before an end could be put to the enemy—his own brother.

“You must hurry back to your home in the north, señor,” Juanita offered. “You must go now. There can be no delay. Eduardo has heard that your brother is already on his way here. He will not follow you to the north, as you well know. You must never return to Mexico. No one else can die in the Reyes’ name. God will not forgive any of us, I fear.”

He had not killed anyone, but Juanita was right about one thing—no one else should die in the Reyes’ name, period. “How am I to go back to the States, Juanita? I have no papers. No money.”

She exhaled a careworn breath. “Eduardo makes a way. Your brother’s private plane waits. You must hurry. I have clothes for you.”

“What will you and Eduardo do when my brother finds me gone from here?” Eduardo, Juanita’s husband, had taken a great risk, as had Juanita.

She shook her head. “There is no time to talk of this. You must go.”

He got up slowly. Even though she knew his intentions, Juanita gasped when he took a step toward the door.

His chest tightened at the idea that anyone would consider him threatening. That was the part of this ugly mess that he hated the most. His own brother had used him to create fear…to kill.

“Juanita,” he said softly, “I have not killed anyone. If the missionaries—” his throated constricted “—are dead, then my brother or his men killed them. You surely know I would never do such a thing.”

Those five men, volunteers from the Basilica de Guadalupe on the north side of Mexico City, had been working with him in a small southern village devastated by last year’s floods. They had rebuilt many homes already, but there was much more to be done. Now those men were dead if what Juanita said was to be believed. What in God’s name did his brother hope to prove?

“I have been thinking that you did not,” Juanita admitted, her voice grave. “But I do not know the truth, señor. Flee this place. If your heart is pure you will flourish again.”

If only it were that easy. “I understand.” His brother could be charming and utterly persuasive when he chose. No one wanted to believe the depth of his depravity.

“You must hurry, mi hijo.”

“Thank you, Juanita.”

Their gazes met briefly in the near darkness. Years had passed since she had last used that endearment. If they survived, he would ensure that her attempt to do the right thing was well compensated. Of the handful who knew of this despicable arrangement, no one else had dared to offer a hand in support. Those who had looked the other way would not be forgotten, either.

He followed Juanita from the prison. His breath sawed in and out of his lungs despite his attempt to stay calm and steady. If they were caught, Juanita would die. His own fate might very well be no better, though most would not dare attempt to use lethal force to stop him for fear of his brother’s reprisal. In any event, what did he have to lose? His fate had already been decided by his brother. A sharp pain pierced his chest at the thought of those men who had lost their lives already. Innocent men who had done nothing more than attempt to help those less fortunate.

His brother would pay this time.

Fury bolted through him. For the first time in his life, he felt certain he could do what needed to be done, putting aside that long-ago promise once and for all.

It was time for his brother’s reign of terror to end.