Читать книгу Warrior Without Rules - Nancy Gideon - Страница 9

“There have been threats.”

“To the family or to the business?” Zach asked as he settled into a stiff brocaded chair on the opposite side of Castillo’s cluttered office desk. He noticed a photo of his wife and daughter, a nice black and white showing mother with preschool-aged child as well as a glamorous color portrait of Mercedes Castillo, but no recent picture of Antonia.

“Both.”

“Any particular reason?”

Castillo frowned, taking Zach’s nonchalant tone to mean there were so many, he could take his pick. “We’re in negotiations to move Aletta’s manufacturing and distribution plants to Mexico. The Union is trying to block the move, but what can they do?”

“Make threats?”

“Perhaps.”

“How many workers will lose their jobs?”

“Among the five plants, about seven thousand. But they’ll be given severance packages. It’s not as if they’re being thrown out onto the streets without warning.”

“That’s generous of you.”

Castillo’s expression tightened at the drawled sarcasm. “It’s business. It’s more than I’m required to do for them. I can’t expect someone like you to understand the economic difficulties of staying competitive in the United States. The only feasible way to continue at a profit is to move production below the border.”

“I’m sure the thought of a few million more a year for their summer homes motivated the board of directors to make that decision.”

“It is my decision, at least until tomorrow night.”

“And then?”

“And then,” intruded a low female voice, “it becomes Antonia’s.”

Zach rose to greet the stunning woman who entered. Dressed in a severely tailored suit, she was tall, voluptuous and cold as ice, from her chilly tone to her glacial stare. He recognized but couldn’t place her.

“Mr. Russell, do you remember Veta Chavez, Antonia’s companion?”

The term companion threw him for a moment, then he recalled. “Your father was in charge of security.”

“Yes. He’s retired. I’m in charge of Antonia now.”

He lifted a brow. “Not an enviable task.”

She rebuked him with a haughty sniff. “Toni and I have been best friends since we were children. She’s only difficult if she’s provoked. Since your name was mentioned she’s become increasingly difficult, so I must assume she finds you most provoking.”

Zach merely smiled as he pulled out a chair for her. She settled gracefully, like a female panther. “So what happens tomorrow?”

“Toni turns twenty-eight and inherits controlling interest in Aletta.”

“It was my wife’s company,” Castillo explained. “Her father established it, and she made it successful beyond his wildest expectations. She was an incredible businesswoman. I had hoped Antonia…” He let that sentiment drift off on a sigh. “The company is hers tomorrow whether she is ready to assume control or not. I still retain a substantial holding, so she won’t have full rein.”

“And you fear someone might try to intimidate your daughter into keeping her company here in the States.”

“That’s a bit simplistic, Mr. Russell. No one can bully my daughter. She is absolutely fearless except for the one small vulnerability I had hoped would never be discovered beyond those in this room.”

“But someone found out.”

“Exactly, and they’ve been terrorizing her,” Veta told him crisply. “She’ll deny it, of course, and it may be nothing. I’ve given every assurance that I can handle things.”

“But I won’t take that risk,” Castillo concluded. “I will not have my business jeopardized.”

Zach’s dislike for the man hardened into a disgust he could keep from his carefully schooled expression, but not from his wry comment. “And here I thought your concern was purely fatherly.”

“Aletta is family, Mr. Russell.”

Zach stood to offer Antonia Castillo his chair as she returned to the room. She’d changed from a liquid spill of leather to the soft, no less revealing drape of a sleeveless tunic over wide-leg pants of some fluid butter-colored material. Her braid was now secured to the back of her head in an elegant coronet and thin gold chains swung from her ears. The effect was as sensually feminine as the earlier had been in-your-face sexual. And he was not unaffected.

“What concerns Aletta impacts all of us,” she continued, dropping carelessly into his seat.

Zach remained standing, leaning back against a bank of wooden file cabinets with arms crossed casually across his chest.

“Contrary to my father’s opinion, I plan to do whatever necessary to assure its continued prosperity. I will not be swayed from that plan by someone playing cruel tricks in hopes that I’ll fall to pieces.”

“What kind of tricks?”

Though her features never lost their smooth hint of disdain, something flickered in her eyes.

“I can give you the details later if you decide to take the job. Or can I assume you already have since you’re here?” Her tone was resigned and annoyed, but something in those eyes beseeched him on an unspoken and perhaps an unconscious level.

“I’m here because Jack Chaney asked me to come. As a favor to him, I’ll listen to what you have to say, then I’ll decide. I don’t do civilian contract work as a rule.”

He could see that unsettled her. She thought he’d come because she and her father had demanded it. His priorities took her arrogance down a notch. And then he again caught a glimmer of that raw vulnerability, of the frightened girl she’d been ten years ago when he’d first thrown back that door. He refused to let himself soften to that memory. She was not that girl anymore. He’d done his job then, and they’d almost cut the legs out from under his career by way of gratitude. This time, he’d be more cautious in his approach.

“Tomorrow night, I celebrate my business coming of age. The next, I fly to Mexico to go over the contracts transferring Aletta’s production hub outside our borders. There’ll be meetings and publicity and media. And protesters. I need someone to protect me,” Antonia stated at last. How difficult that must have been for her.

“What you need is a team of about five men so that you’re covered 24/7. You need a coordinated effort that one man can’t provide. Surely, Chaney told you that. He has men available for that kind of thing.”

“We don’t want high-profile protection. We need discreet.” She paused, looking uncomfortable with her next admission. “We asked for you because you know my past, and there’ll be fewer explanations to be made. Mr. Chaney assured us that you were the very best available.”

“I haven’t said yet whether I was available. You haven’t specified exactly what you want me to do.”

“Become my shadow, and if needs be, a wall that will stand between me and any harm someone might think to do.”

He said it before her father could. “You’re very trusting, considering I failed you once before.”

He hadn’t expected her to take any responsibility for that and she didn’t.

“I see you as a man who takes failure very personally. I believe you’ll be motivated to make certain it never happens again.” She threw it down as a challenge, daring him to pick it up. Knowing he would. But on his terms.

“How very right you are there, Ms. Castillo, which is why, if I take this job, it will be with your explicit agreement to follow my rules.”

Her stunning blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Rules? My employees usually don’t get to make the rules.”

“This one does and if you fail to follow them to the letter, I will walk away without a second’s hesitation regardless of the situation. Understood?”

Oh, yes. He could see she understood, his insistence and his reasoning. And she wanted to fling his demands back in his face with a shove it up your arse. Because she didn’t, he began to see just how scared she really was.

“What are your rules?”

“Just three and they’re very simple. Even a child can follow them.” She bristled at that but said nothing. “Rule number one, I’m in charge. Everything concerning you goes through me and must be cleared by me.”

Veta spoke up. “Victor, I can’t allow that.”

But Castillo put up his hand to halt her objection, allowing Zach to continue.

“Everything,” he emphasized, his gaze never leaving Antonia’s. “Nothing happens without my knowledge and consent. Clear?”

“Crystal” she replied frigidly.

“No interference. Not from your father, not from Ms. Chavez, not even from the police.”

“Victor,” Veta protested more vehemently. “Surely you can’t agree to this nonsense.”

Zach held the icy blue glare of the woman seated below him and very clearly summarized, “There’s me and there’s God.” Jack had been fond of that particular saying, and Zach found it suitably dramatic to make his point. “You will only listen to me. And you will do exactly as I say. No questions, no arguments.”

She was having trouble swallowing that one down but she did so long enough to ask, “And Rule Two?”

“Rule Two, where you go, I go. No exceptions. To the hairdresser, to your girls’ night out, to your gynaecologist appointment. I’m right there.”

“And when I shower, will you scrub my back?”

He allowed a faint smile at that brittle retort. “If you like. Privacy will be strictly at my discretion. And I can be very discreet.” At that last assertion, he lowered his tone ever so slightly so she would catch the reference. She knew he could be and would be again.

“And Three?”

“Rule Three, nothing personal. This is strictly a business arrangement. I will not be played. I will not be drawn into your affairs, private, professional or otherwise. I won’t allow anything to distract me from my job, so don’t expect more than that.”

“Heaven forbid that you be distracted.” Her stare glittered like shards of glass.

“Those are the rules. No exceptions and no deviations. If you’ll follow them, I’ll keep you safe. Agreed?”

She stared up at him, pride warring with necessity. Each rule was a deeper intrusion, a sharper cut into her independence, a tighter rein of control into the intimate details of her life. But he hadn’t created the situation she found herself in. If she wanted his help, this time she’d do it his way.

“I will follow your rules,” she acquiesced at last. “No matter how overbearing and obnoxious I consider them to be.”

He did smile then, a wide appreciative grin. “You’re entitled to your opinion as long as I have your guarantee of cooperation.”

“Would you like it written in blood or would a handshake do?”

She put out her hand in a forthright gesture that took him off guard. This spirit of acceptance was not what he expected. He took her hand gingerly. Her handshake was firm, assertive but gentle, too, because of the binding across his palm. She glanced at the wrapping, her brow furrowing, but she didn’t ask questions. He liked that and the fact that with the confidence of her grip came the soft silken feel of her skin. And the moment he became aware of it, he pulled back.

Looking relieved that all had been concluded without verbal bloodshed, Castillo asked, “How much do you want?”

“To keep your daughter alive?” His jaw clenched tight to keep the rest unsaid. Would the son of a bitch come up with the cash this time or haggle for the best price?

“Name it. Whatever you want.”

Castillo’s money was the last thing Zach wanted. “Whatever Chaney charges is fine with me. He’ll see I’m remunerated.”

“I didn’t think you worked for Chaney.”

“You’ve just subcontracted my services through Personal Protection Professionals. They’ll send the bill. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve had back-to-back transatlantic flights and would very much like to freshen up a bit before going over the particulars with Miss Castillo.”

Antonia rose immediately. “I’ll show you to your room. I’m sure Veta plans to launch quite an argument with my father once we’re out of earshot.”

Nodding to his host and the lovely Ms. Chavez, Zach followed Antonia into the hall, noting the Salome sway of fabric she put in motion with her brisk step. She walked like a prize fighter, with an arrogant strut, leading with her chin held high. And he found it more alluring than any practiced swivel.

“And will she win any points?”

Antonia glanced back at him. “Who?”

“Ms. Chavez.”

“No.” Sure, not smug. A woman who recognized her power but didn’t gloat about it. “What did you do to your hand?”

The shift in subjects had him off balance again. He didn’t like that, the feeling of having to catch himself to stop a fall. He’d always been that way around her. Just her. He made a quick note to widen his literal and his mental stance.

“Worried that it will handicap my efforts?”

Again, the curt, “No. Just curious. Or is that against the rules, too?”

“Just a cut. Nothing serious. How about you tell me how serious your trouble is?”

They’d reached the stairs, a massive column of heavily carved wood that rose up with two separate landings to an open rail above. The wall behind it was stained and leaded glass. He’d bet it was spectacular with the summer sun shining through it. But in the weak winter light there was barely enough illumination to see beyond the first turn of the deep red runner. He didn’t like it—the dark paneled halls, the shadowed stairs.

“It’s no secret that moving Aletta out of the country made a lot of influential people very angry. They’d be thrilled to see negotiations fall through—or at least be delayed if for some reason I was unable to competently handle them. A delay would give them more time to mount a legal defense or find attractive incentives to keep production in the States.”

What was attractive was the way the supple knit clung to her hips and buttocks as she mounted the steps ahead of him.

Rule Three, Russell. Rule Three.

“What have they done to discourage you?”

She paused on the landing as if to catch her breath then started up once more. “Just basic intimidation at first, you know, rocks through windows, delightfully graphic graffiti, a chicken nailed to the front door.”

“Of this house?” That shocked him. To get inside the perimeter implied a breach of security beyond the capabilities of a few disgruntled Union workers. It meant he was dealing with a professional. Or someone on the inside.

“That was about two months ago.”

She fell silent, prompting him to conclude, “But it got worse.”

“Do you know what a virtual kidnapping is?” She’d reached the hall and turned to face him. He stopped a few steps below and had to look up at her. Her features were taut as carved marble.

“It’s a con. The scammer gathers information on a victim, waits until they’re temporarily out of reach then calls their families to say their loved one has been snatched. If they’re good and quick, they can have the money before the family realizes they never had their loved one at all. It’s a nonviolent but emotionally brutal trick.” His expression stilled. “Someone called your father.”

“I was coming back from skiing in Colorado. I was involved in a minor car accident and missed my flight. Weather took out communications. Because of the holidays, there were no seats available on anything with wings. By the time I managed to charter a flight, they’d already made contact to say they had me. They demanded one point five million.”

“Did he pay?” His question sounded as soft as a prayer in the cavernous stairwell.

“He said he wouldn’t pay without proof that they had me.”

Mesmerized by the fierce intensity in her face, Zach held back his curse.

“They sent him a ring I’d been wearing. I’d lost it several nights earlier. I thought I’d misplaced it. He sent them two hundred and fifty thousand and told them he wouldn’t send a penny more. I arrived two days after the exchange. Imagine my surprise to find out what I’d missed.”

Yeah, the fact that her father treated her like the blue light special at a discount store.

“Coincidence, do you think?” he asked at last.

“The kidnapping? Perhaps. If someone knew the details of the first, they’d know there wasn’t a very good chance that they’d come out of it rich men.” Her tone was remarkably free of bitterness.

“Unless it wasn’t about the money.”

“What, then?”

“Terror. Simple, stark terror. The quickest way to bring an enemy to its knees is with the idea of what could happen.”

She had to be thinking about it. It had to be tearing at her, undercutting her sense of safety. For a moment, he was blind-sided by the memory of what he’d found in that room. But she betrayed none of that inner fright with her next bold words.

“My father’s knees won’t bend and neither will mine, not before empty threats and scare tactics.”

“And if they become more than that?”

“Keep them from becoming more than that, Russell. That’s why I hired you. My only rule—don’t let them get close. Don’t ever let them get close enough to touch me.”

The briefest tremor shook through her voice, just a ripple to disturb the smooth surface calm.

Before he gave thought to it, he started to reach out to take her hand, thinking to extend a reassuring press. But when she caught the movement toward her, she took a rapid step back to place herself out of range. He let his hand fall back to his side and sought to console her with his sincerity instead.

“They will not get by me. My word on it.”

She stood for a moment, gauging him for his ability to keep that solemn vow, strung tight as the piano wire that had nearly taken off his hand a few days earlier instead of his head. And gradually, she began to uncoil.

“Tomas put your bags on the third floor.”

“Is that where you sleep?”

“No. My room’s down there.” She gestured toward the right, but her stare was still locked into his.

“And where do you want me?”

She gave a nervous little laugh. “I’d have you sleeping inside my pajamas with me if it didn’t compromise Rule Three.”

Visuals, hot and embarrassingly graphic, ran wild through his imagination, but he managed a thin smile. “There’ll be none of that. What are your plans for the next two hours?”

“I’ve got a photographer waiting for me. We’re going to do some publicity stills.”

“And who else will be there?”

“About a dozen hair, wardrobe and makeup artists, not to mention lighting specialists, the assistant and the assistant to the assistant and Veta. Just a few close personal friends. I don’t leave home without them.”

“Don’t leave the house.”

“I won’t. Where will you be?”

“Unconscious for the next two hours. And then I’ll be on the job.”

Why hadn’t she told him the significance of the ring?

Toni sat in the styling chair letting her thoughts free flow as she made herself malleable to those whose job it was to make her into a priceless marketing tool. On the magazine page, at least, her value was immeasurable.

She glanced down at the unique twist of precious metals she wore on her little finger. Would he remember it? More important, would he understand the implication of someone else knowing what it symbolized?

She should have told him. It was foolish to keep secrets from the one man who knew the worst of them.

His word. He’d given it to her ten years ago and hadn’t broken it, not even at the risk of losing his job and his credibility. She would hold to his promise like a lifeline, for that’s what it was. The one fragile strand tethering her at the precipice of panic and indecision. She could cling to his word as the one certainty in the chaos her world had become.

She stared at the illusion they’d created in the mirror. Strong, vital, fearless, feminine, the epitome of woman power. A sham. A mask she wore to hide the frightened little girl inside. She wore her reputation as a wild child like armor, deflecting those who would get close while keeping herself safe and yet a prisoner inside. Zachary Russell had freed her ten years ago, but in many ways, she was still a hostage.

Resentment for the situation created a lump of anger and anxiety wedging solidly in her throat, refusing to go up or down. She loathed having to call him, to beg through his friend that he return. Because seeing him was a reminder of what she was constantly trying to overcome. The fact that it had been her fault. The fact that despite all she had done, she was still vulnerable. His presence, his rules, the way he looked at her were all unspoken reminders of what he knew, of what he’d seen. Having him here was her private heaven and hell. He was the only one who could strip off the mask she wore and leave her naked and exposed. And he was the only one who could make her feel safe enough to do the things that lay ahead. So forge ahead, she would. Business as usual.

“Any time you’re ready, Ms. Castillo.”

Under the hot lights and strict direction of her photographer, Toni lost herself in her work for the next two hours. She allowed herself to become a posable mannequin, for her mask to be manipulated so she became any woman they wanted her to be—strong and dynamic, feminine and free-spirited, an aggressive warrior pursuing victory at any cost. It was easy to pretend to be someone else when there was nothing else inside her. Until she glanced up to see him standing in the shadows and, momentarily, the pretense fell away.

“Hold that look, Toni. That’s perfect,” her photographer cooed. “Now, give me more. Work with it. You’re a woman yearning for something just out of reach. Let me see that longing. Let me feel it. Great, baby. That’s it.”

He’d changed into a pair of dark slacks and a cabled sweater, but there was nothing casual about his stance or his ever moving gaze. Ten years had passed and he still made her heart beat with a crazy, out-of-sync rhythm. She’d seen better looking men, men with the features of an Adonis who had feet of clay. It wasn’t about perfection. That wasn’t what made Zachary Russell so compelling.

To a critical eye, he was average in appearance, average height, average looks, nothing, at least outwardly, to set him apart. He wore his brown hair buzzed nearly to the scalp, perhaps in defiance of a receding hairline or maybe in indifference to it. His nose was crooked, his mouth too thin except when he unleashed an occasional and always surprisingly wide and white smile. He had nice eyes, intelligent, kind, she’d thought at first, and changeable the way hazel eyes had a tendency to be. And he had a jaw like granite, stubborn, often stubbled, squared and fitting a face on Mount Rushmore.

No, there was nothing spectacular about his features, just a pleasant arrangement that was not unappealing. What set Zachary Russell apart, what made her pulse skip and leap like a child’s game of hopscotch, was the total package.

The man reeked of charisma. He had a way, with his direct gaze, of conveying an intensity, a strength, a confidence that both overwhelmed and reassured. His silky, accented voice held just the right amount of authority backed with reasonableness. His body language was all bold, male assertiveness with nothing to prove, no one to impress. But by heaven, he impressed her. Right from the start.

Ten years had passed. Time had been both kind and cruel. He still wore the same sleek air of sophistication the way he donned his expensive wardrobe. Casually, comfortably. There was still compassion in his gaze but also a ruthlessness that could suppress other more forgiving emotions. There was now a harshness in the angles of his face, making him more formidable than magnetic. And scars, she’d noticed, beneath his right eye and on his chin. To match the one he’d have on his hand. He’d been a consummate professional ten years ago. Whatever had transpired in that interim decade had made him into a deadly and decisive force. She wondered a bit guiltily how much of that change had been her fault. Now he was a man of narrow smiles that never reached his eyes, one of strict rules and unforgiving principles. One who’d allow no harmless flirtations.

The camera whirled, happily capturing her wistful expression. That look stiffened when she noticed Veta sizing up her security competition. Her friend crossed over to Russell, her movements contrived to seduce and conquer. Many a man had made the mistake of underestimating Veta Chavez. They saw only the lush body and alluring features and not the steel of the woman within. Zach gave her a brief glance, but true to his word, refused to be distracted. They spoke, whether of the job or of the past, Toni could only guess. All she knew was when Veta’s red-tipped finger drew a line down the center of Zach’s chest to gain his attention, she was drawing a different sort of battle boundary, one Toni couldn’t cross. She could compete with her older companion in realms of business and social situations, but when the stakes took a turn toward the intimate, Toni was quick to cash in and back out.

“Toni, you lost it there.”

Sensitivity to her moods was what made Bryce Tavish extraordinary behind the lens. He was temperamental but a genius at the same time, and Toni enjoyed working with him. They were friends as well as business professionals. “Shall we take a quick break? Rufus, there’s enough glare off her skin to give me a sunburn.”

While one of the makeup people touched up a shiny spot on her forehead, another one of the assistants approached with a flat mailer envelope. Without a second thought, she took it and tore open the end. Anything to distract her from the cozy conversation going on back in the shadows. There was a garment inside the envelope. A pullover top made of an electric blue spandex. Something from advertising, perhaps. But the sleeve was torn and there were rust stains on it. With a puzzled frown, she began to examine it more closely. Somehow, it looked familiar, like something she might have worn. There was a piece of paper tucked inside the neck line. She unfolded it and with the block printed words upon it, all else crumpled.

WHERE’S THE MONEY?

A sudden suffocating tightness closed about her throat. Her hands convulsed about the bright stretchy fabric.

She had worn it.

Those weren’t rust stains.

She tried to draw a breath. The sound strangled in her chest. Over the engulfing roar in her ears she heard Zach Russell’s harsh command.

“Get the bloody hell out of my way.”

She tried to swallow and felt herself choke as if something was wedged in her airway. The package fell from her hands, the note fluttering from numbed fingers. An odor of dank earth and the sensation of cold preceded a swelling blackness so complete, she never felt Zach catch her on her way to the floor.