To the Limit (Shadow Heroes Book 3) Read online

Carlos was silent for a moment. Nick could tell he was looking for another approach. “It is dangerous. This is Primero de Mayo, Nick—”

  “I know I failed with them before.”

  “Not your failure,” Carlos said with an angry shake of his head. “What about this brother? What if he is a gunrunner?”

  Nick shrugged. He would not think of Mary Beth—the loss of a brother would be devastating. “Please find out what you can about him, but it makes no difference. Our Rangers will probably kill him, if Primero de Mayo doesn’t.”

  “As they did Daniel.”

  Odd how he didn’t wince at Carlos’ words. Nick stood and walked to the window. He didn’t like to think about it, or remember it. Primero de Mayo might have pulled the trigger that ended Daniel’s life, but it was Antonio Vargas who was responsible.

  Outside, the sun shone, lives moved on. But Daniel, the man Nick considered a brother, the man who was Elena Vargas’ only son, was dead. Nick, the infant she’d taken in and raised, was alive. During that first year after Daniel’s death, Nick had wished it had been he who died. Sometimes, when he saw his mother, he still did.

  “Elena would not want this.”

  “She knows what her husband is capable of. It’s why she hasn’t lived with him since before Daniel was born.”

  “Daniel would not want this vendetta,” Carlos argued.

  “He has no voice now. No one but me to stop his father. No one but me to keep Vargas from hurting our mother.”

  “Your death will hurt her. Do not do this thing.”

  “He nearly destroyed her when he killed his own son.”

  “Primero de Mayo killed him, Nick.”

  “If Vargas hadn’t refused to ransom him, if I—”

  “Do not think of ifs, Nicholas. You cannot live your life that way.”

  “Not ifs. I know with certainty that Vargas will hurt the family again. He will hurt San Mateo. He has to be stopped.”

  “And you believe you are the one to do it?”

  “I’m the only one who can,” Nick replied.

  Because I’m the one most like him.

  ***

  Mary Beth pushed through the heavy glass doors of her hotel. The cool interior felt soothing. The amiable concierge greeted her, smiling oddly as she passed him. She understood why when she caught sight of her reflection in the lobby’s large mirrors. If she’d felt like the hounds of hell had chased her the night before, today in bright daylight, she looked like it. Her hair was windblown, her face pale, her hands shaky. She appeared nothing like the elegant, charming woman she’d wanted to be at twenty when she so desperately tried to fit into her father’s life. She looked more like she had when she discovered how miserably she’d failed, how easily she’d been fooled by the charm and good looks of a man who claimed to love her.

  She walked through the sparsely decorated lobby toward the elevators, her breath coming a little easier now that she was back. After pressing the call button, she scrambled in her purse, digging impatiently for the plastic key card.

  Glancing at the two elevator doors, she noticed an out-of-order sign on one. The other elevator was taking too long. She punched the button again.

  “Having trouble?”

  The card flew from her fingers as she turned. Her gaze took in the enigmatic smile on Nick’s face. “You scared me half to death!” She bent to pick up the card just as he plucked it from the floor.

  His expression changed to one of concern as he handed her the card. “I’m sorry.” Worn jeans and a dark-blue shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, made him less intimidating but even more attractive than had the formal attire of the evening before.

  “I didn’t hear you walk up,” she said, embarrassed at her reaction.

  A little niggling thought crept into her mind. Had he been waiting for her, or had he followed her? That was ridiculous. A bald man had been behind her. But had Nick ordered—

  Surely not. She was letting fear get the better of her. And letting the lies of the past cloud her judgment when she was the one holding back something he should know.

  He looked up at the floor indicator, then at the sign. “It looks like you’re in for a long wait.”

  “Why are you here?” She put the card back in her purse, wishing her jittery nerves would calm down, wishing she hadn’t sounded so abrupt. He’d come to her. This was her second chance to convince him. She couldn’t afford to be bitchy.

  He smiled. God, he had a smile that could tempt saints. Mary Beth had never considered herself a saint.

  “I wanted to apologize again—for any misunderstanding last night.”

  She didn’t want his apology. She wanted his help. She would get it, even if she choked trying to be polite. “I accepted last night.”

  “Have you called one of the men I recommended?”

  “I told you, I don’t want or need—”

  “What plans have you made?”

  None. She’d made no plans except to convince him to go along, no matter what it took. “Plans?”

  “How are you going to get there?”

  “I’ll drive,” she said with much more conviction than she felt. She hadn’t thought at all about how she’d get there. She’d figured he would know what to do.

  He arched a brow. “What sort of deadline did they give you?”

  “Ten days. I have eight left if you count today.”

  “With no complications, it should only take two days at most.”

  She didn’t like this. He’d refused outright. Now he was asking questions, being … nice. This about face was too quick, too uncalled for. Common sense told her to tread carefully. But that was silly. He was Nicholas Romero, trusted by world leaders.

  So why couldn’t she just accept that he was being nice?

  Because he operated in a world where people were nothing more than casualties, a world that nearly destroyed her. She knew better than to tangle with this stranger standing beside her.

  “Why are you here?” she repeated.

  “I think it’s time we talked about your predicament.”

  “I told you—”

  “You simply asked me to accompany you because you believe I can be of help. That isn’t a discussion.”

  “What is there to discuss? I have to pay the ransom for my brother. He will be killed if I don’t.”

  He seemed to study her for a moment before saying, “Tell me about him.”

  “Tell you what?” her guilty conscience prodded her to ask too sharply.

  “What does he do? Why is he in San Mateo?”

  “Will you go with me?”

  He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “This isn’t a good place to talk. Join me for coffee. There’s a café around the block.”

  Coffee? She didn’t want coffee. She wanted an opportunity. That was all she needed. He wanted to discuss her predicament? She would convince, not discuss. She just needed a moment to step back, to compose herself. To decide what she would say without telling him that Mark knew his cousin.

  The cousin Primero de Mayo killed.

  Finally, the elevator chimed and the doors swept open. Two men in business suits who’d come in from the street and who were also waiting waved her inside. But, rather than get in, they nodded at her and headed for the hotel bar.

  “I’d like to put my package away first,” she said to Nick. “Please wait for me.”

  ***

  Ten minutes later, Nick was still on one of the uncomfortable couches in the modern, marble-floored lobby. The two men who’d nodded to Mary Beth as she got on the elevator had gone to the bar, come back, and taken the stairs, apparently too impatient to wait.

  A lower echelon American embassy official he’d met briefly walked in from the street and looked around. Nick couldn’t remember his name or title. The dark-haired man spoke with the desk clerk, then the elevator door opened and Nick forgot everything else.

  She’d done it again. The Mary Beth who stepped out of the elevator was no longer
the harried woman he’d surprised minutes earlier, but a beautiful and poised woman. She wasn’t wearing the little black dress, but it didn’t matter. Her armor—a green blouse and black pants—was in place, and she was ready for battle. Nick smiled in appreciation and wondered what she’d think if he did what every male instinct told him to do—walk up to her, run his fingers through that short, honey-colored hair and pull her against him.

  Distracted by his musing, he’d barely gotten to his feet when the embassy man caught her as she neared Nick and said, “Miss Williams?”

  Eyebrows raised in surprise, Mary Beth turned. “Yes?”

  “I’m Elliot Smith,” he said, handing her a business card, “from the American embassy. Your father and I worked together in Madrid. May I have a few moments of your time?”

  “Is something wrong, Mr. Smith?”

  “I just need to have a word with you.” The short man looked around the lobby, saw Nick, and held his gaze for a moment before turning away.

  Mary Beth excused herself from Nick and led Smith a few feet away to stand beside a replica of an Incan urn. Nick made himself comfortable by leaning on a nearby column. He’d be able to hear their conversation, which, judging from the man’s pointed stare, Smith didn’t want.

  Mary Beth gave Nick a cursory look, then dismissed him with a slight turn of her head. “What is this about?”

  “We’re warning Americans visiting San Mateo about the dangers here.”

  “I’m not aware of any dangers,” she said.

  “There has been political unrest in parts of the country. There’s been a resurgence of terrorist activity tied to drug trafficking. It’s not a good time to be here. Especially not for an American woman.”

  “Your concern is appreciated.” Mary Beth studied him with cool regard. “I still don’t see why you’re here.”

  “The ambassador is always worried about Americans who put themselves in jeopardy in San Mateo. He’s limited in what he can do to help, especially in dealing with the San Matean bureaucracy.”

  Nick smiled as she deliberately ignored the man’s condescending look.

  “I’m sure he won’t have to intervene in anything because of me.”

  “Since you’re Spencer Williams’ daughter, we thought we’d speak with you, as a courtesy, about reconsidering your visit to San Mateo and going home. We are concerned that you’re on your own.”

  “Thank you, and—” Mary Beth moved away slightly “—please thank the ambassador. But I’m not alone. I’m with Mr. Romero.”

  Smith turned toward him, then focused on Mary Beth again. “Mr. Romero?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  Nick pushed away from the column, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction. If Smith had hoped to find a woman susceptible to intimidation, he’d been wrong.

  Smith straightened. “No. Of course not.”

  “Is that all, then?” Mary Beth asked.

  “One last thing.” He buttoned his suit jacket. “How is your brother?”

  “My brother?”

  “I met him in Barranquilla a few years ago.”

  She paused before answering. “I’ll tell Mark you asked about him.”

  “Please do.” Smith shook her extended hand, nodded at Nick and made his way to the front entrance.

  Nick felt an unexpected respect for Mary Beth Williams. She was a force to contend with.

  “Do you know that man?” She stood with her back ramrod straight, her polished manners perfect.

  She reacted to difficult situations with studied decorum. For one wayward moment, he wondered what it would take to rattle her composure, then his better nature took over.

  “I’ve met him,” he replied.

  “Is he really the military attaché?” She looked up from Smith’s business card, which she held in her hand.

  “As far as I know.” Though the man was likely under non-official cover for the CIA.

  “Why would he tell me to leave?”

  “He’s probably worried about your safety, as he said.” But Nick suspected there was more. Smith might have found out she was here through regular channels, but there was no reason why he’d be notified, nor why he’d ask her to leave. It was time to find out exactly what was going on with her brother. If Carlos didn’t learn more, Nick had every intention of contacting Jonathan Ethridge.

  She took a few more steps toward the doors, then turned quickly. “Do you think he would have someone follow me?”

  Nick masked his expression carefully. “You believe you’re being followed?”

  “A car followed me from the airport, then again to your house last night. I also saw a man earlier, when I was shopping.” She pushed her hair back with the same gesture he’d noticed the night before.

  This time Nick recognized it for what it was. Beneath the cool exterior beat the heart of a frightened woman. Ingrained protective instincts rose to the surface and made him reassess the situation.

  Time for the truth. At least part of it. “The man you saw this morning is mine.”

  ***

  It took Mary Beth a moment to fully understand what Nick had said. In that moment, she clearly saw how far out of her league she was. “Having me followed doesn’t seem like the kind of thing a man of your reputation would do.”

  “I meant nothing sinister by it.” He kept his voice low.

  Skeptical, she met his gaze.

  “Last night,” he explained, “my neighbor told me he suspected you were followed. I had my man verify it.”

  “Does Primero de Mayo have people in the city?”

  “Probably,” he replied. “Did you tell anyone about your brother?”

  “No. I was told not to.” She took a quick breath. “Why would you have me followed?”

  “For some reason, I thought you might need protection.” His eyes, intense in the sun-washed lobby, flashed a combination of humor and something that puzzled her. “Although I’ve come to the conclusion that perhaps you don’t need it in all situations.”

  She sensed male interest in his steady perusal as he continued.

  “That cool demeanor, the ability to brush off all questions, serves you well.” He looked her up and down with some degree of admiration. And something warmer. “Where did you learn to handle men like Smith?”

  “My life is not at issue. My brother’s is.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

  “You’ve made it my concern by involving me.” He stepped closer.

  For an instant she had the unsettling feeling that he might touch her. The thought confused her, made her aware of the fleeting notion that she didn’t know whether to move toward him or step back.

  “I want to save my brother,” she said as calmly as possible.

  “Then we have to come to an agreement.”

  Heart pounding, she asked, “Does that mean you’ll go with me?”

  “It means you have to tell me about your brother. Why would he be in a place where Primero de Mayo could kidnap him? Why would the embassy feel it was necessary to warn you out of the country?”

  Did he know about Mark and his cousin? Had he known all along?

  No. If he knew, he would tell her. No need to play this game unless he was at least considering helping her.

  “I don’t have time for this. Mark is in danger and you’re the only one who can help. I would have thought you, of all people, someone whose profession it is to deal with hostage takers, would understand.”

  “I’m sure I deserve the insult, subtle or not.” His lips twitched up in a half smile. “But the ice-maiden act doesn’t work with me. You can’t dismiss me and my questions the way you did Smith and his.” With that, he directed a silent challenge to her, walked back to the large couch and sat.

  Mary Beth told herself only necessity made her follow and sit opposite him.

  When she did, Nicholas Romero, well-respected diplomat, world-class negotiator, looked at her and said, “You’re all alone in this, Mary Beth. You don’t l
ike it, but you need me. And to get me to cooperate, you’ll have to answer my questions.”

  Chapter Three

  Nick had to hand it to her. Mary Beth didn’t allow that studied poise to slip even though they both knew he had her.

  Instead, she asked, “What do you want to know about Mark?”

  She was hiding something. It was obvious from the defensive tone of her question.

  He found his gaze drawn to the spot where her silk blouse parted slightly to reveal a tiny gold cross. Maybe it was the sight of the religious symbol, or the fact she was such a fascinating woman. Either way, he realized he was surprisingly tempted to go easy on her.

  And that made no sense. No matter what protective instincts he might have, he had one goal and one goal only. Antonio Vargas would pay for Daniel’s death. Mary Beth Williams was nothing more than a means to an end. He would not abandon the promise he’d made to himself, what he owed his family.

  “What was he—”

  “Señorita Williams,” the concierge interrupted.

  Mary Beth looked up.

  “The chief of hotel security would like to meet you in your room.” The older man wrung his hands.

  Nick rose. “What’s wrong?”

  The man’s gaze shot from Mary Beth to Nick and back. “There has been a break-in. In your room. Por favor, you will come?” He led the way to the elevator, which opened immediately when he depressed the call button.

  Once in the elevator, Mary Beth’s eyes remained focused on the display indicating the passing floors. Her stillness made Nick wonder if he would finally see a crack in her composure, but she stepped quickly, calmly, out of the elevator.

  A security man led them down the hallway, hands behind his back. “The cleaning woman interrupted two men going through the closet.”

  “Was she hurt?” Mary Beth asked.

  “No, no. They ran away,” replied the security man. As Mary Beth walked past him, he added, “I am very sorry.”

  The room was a shambles—the dresser drawers flung open, the contents of the closet tossed on the floor. Mary Beth’s suitcase had been opened, her clothing thrown aside. Even her cosmetics had been dumped on the bathroom floor, lotion splattered on the tile.