Читать книгу Texas…Now And Forever - Merline Lovelace - Страница 10

A shrill buzz cut through the air-conditioned silence, haunting the small farmhouse just outside Mission Creek, Texas. Like a deer speared by truck headlights, Haley Mercado froze. Her glance sliced to the FBI agent who’d acted as her controller for the past year.

Across the living room Sean Collins met her desperate look. They’d been waiting for this call, she and Sean. So had the small army of agents guarding the safe house where the FBI had stashed Haley until they captured Frank Del Brio.

Frank Del Brio. The smooth, handsome head of the Texas mob who’d once shoved a square-cut, three-carat diamond on Haley’s finger and announced that she was going to marry him. The ruthless thug who’d forced her to flee her home in South Texas and to assume another identity abroad. The vicious killer whose horrific acts had brought Haley out of hiding a year ago and sent her undercover, determined to assist the FBI in bringing Del Brio down.

Frank Del Brio, who’d kidnapped the child she’d placed in safekeeping while she worked undercover, the child who only a few nights ago had been spared in a wild shoot-out that had left her father in ICU and Haley under close protection at this secluded farmhouse.

The phone shrilled again, sending a jolt of desperate hope into her chest. They’ve got him! Please, God! Please let this call be from the FBI command center, advising that they’ve cornered Frank and rescued her baby! Her heart in her throat, she wiped her palms down the front of her jeans and kept her gaze locked on Sean as he reached for the cordless phone.

“Collins here.”

When the FBI operative’s face tightened, Haley’s hope shattered into a thousand knife-edged shards.

“How the hell did you get this number?”

It was Frank, she thought on a wave of sickening certainty. It could only be Frank.

Collins confirmed it in the next breath. “No way I’m putting her on the phone, Del Brio. You can damned well talk to me.”

The mobster’s response sent a tide of angry red surging into the FBI agent’s cheeks. His eyes blazing fire, Sean snarled back.

“Listen to me, you two-bit piece of slime. You hurt that baby and there won’t a patch of dirt anywhere on this earth big enough for you to dig a hole and crawl into.”

Haley flew across the living room. “Let me talk to him.”

“I’m warning you, Del Brio—”

“Let me talk to him!”

The agent relinquished the instrument reluctantly, signaling for Haley to string out the conversation as long as she could. She understood. The communications technicians hooked into the line would need a few moments to trace the call. She understood, too, that the events of the past year were rapidly spiraling to a terrifying conclusion.

“Frank! Frank, are you there?”

“Hello, Daisy.”

The deep, rich baritone made her skin crawl.

“You fooled me with that brassy hair and nose job, babe, but I have to admit I like the new look.”

Haley didn’t bother to comment on the fact that he’d penetrated the cover she’d been using for the past year. The long months she’d spent as Daisy Parker didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was her baby. Only her baby.

“Don’t hurt her, Frank. Please, don’t hurt her.”

She hated to beg, hated hearing the abject pleading in her voice, almost as much as she hated Del Brio for the pain he’d caused her and her family.

“What do you want?” she whispered. “What do I have to do to get Lena back?”

“Two million just might do the trick. In unmarked, nonsequential bills. Nothing bigger than a hundred. I’ll let you know where and when to deliver it.”

His voice dropped to a low caress. Soft and husky, it scraped across Haley’s raw nerves like a rusty nail.

“I’d better not see one cop or one fed, particularly your pal Collins or that bastard Justin Wainwright.”

Haley’s heart squeezed with pain. They’d come so close, so very close. Mission Creek’s sheriff and the FBI had almost—almost—captured Del Brio three nights ago. He’d made his escape, gunning down her father in the process. Taking her baby with him.

“If I even smell their stink when you deliver the ransom,” Frank snarled, “you’ll never see your brat again. You understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Talk to you soon, babe.”

“Wait!” Her frantic shout bounced off the walls. “Don’t hang up! Tell me how she’s—”

The hum of the disconnected line thundered in Haley’s ear. She wanted to scream, to shriek and batter the receiver against the phone. But she’d spent the past year living a dangerous lie. A year undercover, risking her life every day to ferret out the details of the mob that had operated out of Mission Creek. If nothing else, those torturous months had taught her to subdue every natural impulse. To smile when she shook inside with fear. To hide her anguish as she watched another couple love and cherish the baby she’d been forced to give up temporarily for the child’s own safety.

All those months had left their mark on Haley. Instead of shrieking or hurling the cordless phone at the wall, she merely handed it to Sean and listened in stony silence while he barked at the communications techs working the trace.

“Did you pinpoint the location?”

She knew. Even before she saw his mouth twist into a disgusted grimace, she knew. Frank was too smart to trip himself up with a simple phone call.

“Okay. Thanks.”

His jaw tight, Sean punched the off button. Frustration gave a sharp edge to his broad New York accent when he confirmed what she already suspected.

“Del Brio used some kind of electronic scrambler. We couldn’t confirm his location.”

She nodded. That was all she could manage. From the day Lena was kidnapped, Haley had carried both fear and dread around inside her like a stone. It crushed in on her now, so massive and heavy she could hardly breathe.

“He’ll kill her.”

“Listen to me, Daisy—”

The special agent caught himself. He’d insisted they use her alias of Daisy Parker in every communication and every conversation for the past year. Although that cover was now blown, Sean hadn’t quite made the transition back to her real name.

“Listen to me, Haley. Del Brio can’t kill Lena. Not until he gets what he wants. He knows we’ll demand proof she’s still alive before we play his game.”

The iron control she’d exercised for more than a year slipped and came close to shattering at that moment. “It’s not a game!” she snapped furiously. “This is my child’s life we’re talking about!”

“Dammit, I know that.”

Months of unrelenting tension sizzled and spit between them. With a little push Haley could almost have hated Sean Collins, too.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, shagging a hand through his thick, reddish hair. “You know I’ll do whatever it takes to get Lena back. I want Del Brio as much as you do.”

“No,” she countered swiftly, her throat raw. “You couldn’t. It wasn’t your mother Frank murdered, Sean. Your father he tried to destroy. Your trusted friend and advisor he blew away.”

She closed her eyes, aching for her mother. Grieving for the white-haired Texas judge who’d helped her arrange her escape and acted as her life-line all those years she stayed in hiding. Hurting, too, for the father who now lay in ICU, battling for every breath.

Frank Del Brio had wreaked such havoc on her life. Haley knew he wouldn’t hesitate to take the next fatal step. She wrapped her arms around her middle and squeezed tight, wishing with every ounce of her being she could hold in her terror for her child and keep it from spilling into reality.

Eyes closed, she pictured Lena the last time she’d seen her. The one-year-old was such a happy, bubbly child. All smiles and gurgles and bright blue eyes. With her mother’s pointed chin and her father’s black curly hair.

Her father. Oh, God! Her father.

Luke Callaghan.

Swallowing the moan that tried to escape, Haley dug her hands into her sides. She had to tell Luke. Had to confirm what the DNA tests had already substantiated. He was Lena’s father. When she admitted that, she’d have to confess, too, that the blond waitress he knew as Daisy Parker was Lena’s mother.

She cringed at the thought of having to explain to Luke the tangled web of lies and deceit she’d woven to protect herself and Lena, but every instinct told her he was now her only hope. Frank had warned her not to bring the feds when she delivered the ransom. He hadn’t said anything about the baby’s father.

Her mind worked feverishly. Del Brio was ruthless and totally without conscience. He also exercised an extensive network of contacts. He’d known how to reach Haley here, in this supposedly secure haven. He’d probably get word within minutes if she left it and went to Lena’s father. He wouldn’t worry, though. If there was a chink in Del Brio’s armor, it was his arrogance. He wouldn’t doubt his ability to handle the combination of a terrified mother and a blind father.

But could Haley handle it? After all this time, could she face the man who’d fathered her child? The man she’d loved as long as she could remember?

She could.

She had to!

Spinning, she bolted for the front door. Sean followed hard on her heels.

“Where are you going?”

“To find Luke Callaghan.”

“No way! You’re not setting foot outside this safe house.”

“Safe?” Whirling, she leapt to the attack. “What’s safe about it? Frank knows where I am. He got through your command center’s elaborate electronic screens with one call. If he wanted to, he could probably order one of his goons to launch a shoulder-held missile from a mile away and put it through that window right now.”

The fact that they both knew she was right didn’t lessen Sean’s bulldog stance. “We’ve made it this far together, Dai—Haley. Don’t give up on me now.”

“I’m not giving up. I’ve just decided to play the game by Frank’s ground rules.” Icy resolve coated every word. “He wants two million dollars. As you pointed out, he’s not likely to hurt me or my child until I deliver it. And I do intend to deliver it. With Luke Callaghan.”

“Christ! Callaghan’s a good man. A war hero, no less. But he can’t see a red flag waved two inches in front of his face.”

A new ache pierced Haley’s heart, adding another layer to the hurt and guilt and fear she’d carried for so long. Seeing the pain on her face, Sean backpedaled gruffly.

“Look, I’ll admit Callaghan has moved mountains to help us find Lena. Once DNA tests indicated that he was her father, he let us tap his phones. He offered to provide the ransom, when and if it was demanded. He even volunteered the theory that he was the source the kidnappers intended to milk right from the start. With all his millions, it was certainly a distinct possibility.”

More than a possibility. Since Lena had been taken just days before Luke returned to Mission Creek, everyone on the task force initially suspected his vast wealth had sparked the kidnapping.

“Callaghan also worked his own net,” the FBI agent conceded with a touch of grudging admiration. “He has more contacts than any six men I know. And not just in the government. He and those three buddies of his scoured more dives, bribed more drunks and coerced more lowlifes into spilling their guts than our entire task force. But he can’t—”

“No buts,” Haley interjected swiftly, fiercely. “Luke Callaghan is Lena’s father. I can’t let him stand idly on the sidelines now while Frank Del Brio barters her for blood money.”

Reaching for the door, she yanked it open. Sean’s big, beefy hand smacked hard against the wood panel.

“Don’t try to stop me,” Haley hissed. “Don’t even think about trying to stop me. I’ve done everything you asked me to, Sean. All these months I risked my life to provide the information you wanted. I will not risk my child’s.”

“All right!” Conceding defeat, the FBI operative nodded. “Hang loose a minute. I’ll have my people track Callaghan down for you.”

Haley drove away from the farmhouse a few moments later, trailed by a dusty white van and armed with the 9 mm Glock that Sean had instructed one of his agents to hand over.

She knew how to fire the handgun. She’d grown up in this patch of South Texas, on a sprawling acreage just outside Mission Creek. Indulged by her parents and spoiled shamefully by her older brother, Ricky, she’d spent most of her after-school hours in voice lessons, dance classes and giggling with her girlfriends as they checked out the hunks at the pool of the luxurious Lone Star Country Club. Ricky had taken her out to ping tin cans off fence poles often enough for Haley to know one end of a gun from another, though.

Grimly, she locked her hands around the steering wheel and drove through the night. A million stars winked in the inky sky. The moon hung low, dazzling in its silver glow. Haley didn’t even spare it a glance.

As promised, Sean had pinpointed Luke Callaghan’s present location. He was with one of his buddies. At the Saddlebag. The same watering hole where Haley had bumped into him two years ago, with such earth-shattering consequences.

The irony of seeking Luke out at the Saddlebag ate into her soul. He hadn’t recognized her that hot July night two years ago. The London plastic surgeon who’d altered Haley’s face had more than earned his five thousand pounds. Luke wouldn’t recognize her tonight, either. Not just because he’d lost his sight, but because she’d all but crawled into the skin of the fictional Daisy Parker. No one—until Frank—had penetrated her cover.

Although…

Lately, Luke had been asking questions about the blond waitress with the thick-as-road-tar Texas twang. He’d even cornered her once at the Lone Star Country Club. He’d brushed his mouth across hers, as if testing his memory. He’d tested Haley’s nerves, as well. She’d shied away, refusing to admit she knew him.

Now she’d not only admit that she knew him and that she’d had his baby, but she’d grovel at his feet if necessary to gain his help in reclaiming their child.

Her mouth had settled into a determined line when she wheeled into the Saddlebag’s jam-packed parking lot some twenty minutes later and nosed her car into the narrow space between two pickups. The white van parked some yards away. At this point Haley couldn’t say whether the FBI’s watchful vigilance reassured her or added to the stress that crawled across her shoulder blades like a Texas scorpion.

Her throat tight, she climbed out of the car. The Saddlebag hadn’t changed much in two years. The same wooden sign creaked in the breeze above the door. The same dim spotlights cast arcs of light against its gray, weathered siding. The same motel units were strung out behind the bar like plump, feathered hens roosting for the night. With a stab of acute pain, Haley wrenched her gaze from the largest of the ten or so units and headed for the bar.

When she pushed through the front door, the country-western music pouring through the wall-mounted speakers competed with the remembered clack of pool balls. Haley stood beside an arch formed by branding irons, hidden in its shadows. Narrowing her eyes, she peered through the blue haze. Establishments in this part of South Texas didn’t run to separate smoking sections.

Her gaze skimmed the handful of customers at the long curved bar that wrapped clear around to the back of the lounge. She recognized several patrons. She’d waited on them at the country club. Ignoring the sudden, hopeful gleam in one man’s eye and the welcoming wave of another, she turned her attention to the half dozen tables at the rear of the bar.

With a sudden thump of her heart, she spotted two men nursing dew-streaked long-necks at one of the tables. Her glance skimmed past Tyler Murdoch to lock on Luke. His back was to her, but Haley couldn’t mistake the curly black hair cut military short under his summer straw Stetson or the athletic shoulders stretching the seams of his blue denim shirt. Every inch of Luke Callaghan’s powerful, muscular body was imprinted on her memory.

She’d been in love with him for as long as she could remember. The orphaned son of wealthy parents, Luke had grown up on the Callaghan’s lavish estate just north of Mission Creek, cared for by a devoted housekeeper and an absentee uncle not above dipping into his nephew’s trust fund to maintain his free-wheeling lifestyle. Luke and Haley’s brother had been friends since grade school, then roomed together at V.M.I.—Virginia Military Institute—where Luke and Ricky and three other classmates from the local area had formed their own special clique. The Fabulous Five, Haley had secretly labeled them. A band of brothers so tight and close it seemed that nothing could ever shake their friendship.

Ricky Mercado, the brother she adored.

Flynt Carson, scion of one of the old cattle king families that had settled this corner of South Texas.

Spence Harrison, brown-haired, brown-eyed and all male.

Tyler Murdoch, rugged, rough-edged, with an uncanny flair for anything and everything mechanical.

And Luke. Laughing, blue-eyed Luke Callaghan.

Haley had developed severe crushes on each of her brother’s pals at one time or another, but Luke had stolen her heart. She was so young when she’d first tumbled into love with him, just growing into the seductive curves and smoldering Italian looks she’d inherited from her mother. A typical teenage girl, she’d alternated between outrageously blatant attempts to attract Luke’s attention and tongue-tied shyness when she did.

He’d been kind to her, she remembered on a wave of stinging regret for those golden days of her girlhood. Teasing and big-brotherly and kind. If he’d recognized the signs of adolescent fixation, he never let on.

During her college years she’d seen Luke less frequently, but each time she did, she’d fallen a little more in love with him. He and Ricky and the others had joined the marines by then. They made only brief trips home for the holidays or lightning-quick visits en route to some mission or another. To Haley’s chagrin, Luke didn’t spend enough time at home to notice that Ricky’s sister was now all grown up.

If he hadn’t noticed, however, Frank Del Brio certainly had.

Shuddering, Haley recalled how the handsome older man had started hitting on her soon after her graduation from the University of Texas. It shamed her now to admit that his attentions had flattered her at first. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, and six-two of solid muscle, Frank could charm the knickers off a nun if he wanted to. Only after Haley had come to understand how deeply Del Brio was involved in her uncle Carmine’s more dangerous undertakings did she try to break things off.

He’d given her a first taste of his temper then, and of his ruthlessness. Her father was in the family business, too, Frank had reminded Haley with a smile. Not as deep as his brother, Carmine, certainly, but deep enough to make him a target for the feds or for rival mob members if the right hints were dropped in the wrong ears. The threat was still hanging heavy on her mind when Frank slid a diamond ring onto her finger.

Then Ricky and Luke and their friends had volunteered for a highly classified, dangerous mission during the Gulf War. To this day Haley knew only vague details of that mission. Her brother never talked about it. Nor did any of the other four. All she knew was that they’d been dropped behind enemy lines, destroyed a biological weapons manufacturing plant, were captured and spent agonizing months as POWs until their commander, Phillip Westin, mounted a daring rescue raid.

The Fabulous Five came home to a hero’s welcome. Haley would never forget the parade held in their honor one blazing June morning. Or their wild, lakeside celebration that night.

That was the night Haley Mercado died.