To the Limit (Shadow Heroes Book 3) Read online

  “Nicky!” shouted Tía Rosa “¡Baila con la niña!” For a tiny woman, she had the voice of a lumberjack. Soon everyone was shouting at him to dance with Mary Beth. Never one to be stopped, Tía Rosa grabbed Mary Beth’s hand and dragged her across the living room to Nick. “Baila, pues, hijo,” she ordered, her voice booming over the music.

  He laughed. He loved this family—pushy, meddlesome, annoying. A family not really his. But the man who was his family was beyond contempt. Nick deliberately pushed aside the general’s acknowledgment of paternity.

  This was his family.

  When he saw that Mary Beth wasn’t upset by Tía Rosa’s bossiness, he pulled her into his arms and began to move to the steady beat of the vals.

  She fit him perfectly. The realization almost made him miss a step. Unable to resist his other curiosity, he touched her hair. Soft, thick. Beautiful.

  “Your family is really something,” he heard her say against his shoulder.

  “They’re usually not this boisterous. I think I’ve been away too long.” He fought the urge to pull her closer. One of her hands rested high on his arm. He held the other against his chest.

  “How long do these get-togethers go on?” She sounded breathless.

  “They’re wound up tonight. We’ll be lucky to get away by midnight.” And then they’d go back to Daniel’s house. Alone.

  Damn.

  “What?” she asked, turning her head slightly to one side.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  She stepped closer, her breath a whisper in his ear as she tried to keep her words between them. “I thought you said ‘damn.’”

  He slid his right hand up her back toward the nape of her neck. “I never swear in English.”

  “I wondered about that. I don’t think I’ve heard you swear at all.” She pulled back marginally when he touched her neck. “Nick, I don’t think—”

  “It’s just a dance, nothing more.”

  “It feels like something more,” she said so softly that he knew she hadn’t intended him to hear.

  She was right. It felt like something more.

  Damn.

  Chapter Five

  Cool off, Mary Beth told herself as she took a break outside. She should be freezing in the cold Andean night. The soft rhythmic sounds of the tiled courtyard’s fountain competed with the music drifting from inside. Nick’s family was still at it, pulling him into their gaiety.

  She’d laughed and danced and had too much wine. It felt wonderful. Nick felt wonderful. Everything was wonderful.

  No, she scolded herself. Look at him, an inner voice whispered. You’re being a fool again. Didn’t you learn?

  No one is ever what they seem.

  It’s not the same, she argued back. But she knew it was. She could never again be a starry eyed romantic. Appearances were deceiving. Her childhood looked picture-perfect to anyone—money, the best schools, the best social contacts.

  But devoid of the comfort of a close family.

  Except for Mark. The reason she was here. Infatuation had made her forget about the one person she trusted, the one person she could depend on. Tomorrow morning would leave only seven days to save him.

  “Mary Beth?”

  She spun around at the sound of Nick’s voice.

  “Are you okay?”

  No. You’re messing with my head. Instead, she said, “I’m just cooling off.” She fanned herself ineffectively with one hand to prove her point. “Don’t your aunts get tired?”

  He walked to her, blocking the breeze, tantalizing her with his presence. “They’re asking for you.”

  “I just needed some air,” she said, stepping around him.

  “Don’t rush in. Stay here for a minute,” he said.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Stay.” He touched her shoulder, holding her gently, turning her toward him. “Please.” The outside light flickered on and glanced off his cheekbones, casting his eyes in shadows.

  Move away, her inner voice shouted. But it was too late. She was trapped by indecision, by his nearness. By her own curiosity.

  With exquisite care, Nick traced the back of one finger down her cheek. Her breath left her body. He stepped closer and moved his caressing finger to her chin. With the barest minimum pressure, he tilted her face up. She shifted, restless at the contact, unable to look away.

  He ran his hand from her neck to her shoulder, shimmering heat down to her arm. Twining his fingers with hers, he tugged.

  Helpless to resist, she swayed forward, and he held her as he had earlier when they danced. With her senses swallowed by his solid presence, she finally heard the soft strains of a ballad pouring from the house. Nick adjusted his legs to hers as they began moving to the music.

  Endless, breathless seconds later, he released her hand and tangled his fingers in her hair at the back of her head, holding her still. His face drew nearer until Mary Beth closed her eyes to block out anything that might interfere with this moment. His breath, so gentle, brushed her lips before she felt the tenuous contact.

  The barest touch, a soft meeting of lips. The gurgling of the fountain faded as he pulled her into the heat of the kiss.

  Breathless with want, she responded, until a sound pushed her back to reality.

  Nick ended the kiss. She felt the rumble of his groan just before he spoke.

  “Mary Beth—”

  “Nicky!” a woman called out. “¡Teléfono de nuevo!”

  Mary Beth released her hold on Nick’s neck, pushing against his chest, thankful for the dim light. She could feel his gaze on her, even though she couldn’t see his expression.

  He kept his arms around her waist and asked, “¿Quién es?”

  “Carlos!” came the feminine reply from the French doors.

  “My cousin may have more to tell us.” Nick stared down at her, his face in shadow. “I have to take the call.”

  “I—”

  “Be right back.”

  He walked away, his powerful strides taking him from a moment suspended in time. A moment that should not have happened. Mary Beth hugged herself.

  He walked past one of his many female cousins. What was her name? Raquel, that was it. She was coming out to join her. Great, just what she needed.

  “We are all so happy, Mary Beth,” she said, squeezing her arm lightly.

  “Happy?”

  “That Nicky has found someone.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “We were so worried, no?” Raquel’s English was heavily accented. “My mother and his other aunts all despair for him. He is so handsome, so smart. Tía Rosa has tried for years to find someone for him, but he has shown no interest.”

  “You don’t—”

  “Now you are here.” She paused only a moment to gather a breath. “Las tías are so happy. They have wanted a big wedding for Nicky. We, the girls, we have big weddings, but this will be a Romero wedding.”

  “I don’t understand,” Mary Beth said, giving up on trying to explain away what Raquel had seen.

  “It is clear, no? You marry our Nicky, the Romero family will have a celebration, no?”

  “What about his wedding to Alex’s mother?”

  “Cristina Morales?” Isabel took a step back. “He did not tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “I do not think—”

  “Tell me what?”

  “It is for him to—”

  “What?” Mary Beth insisted.

  “Little Alex is his, how do you say?” She paused. “Hijo natural, his natural child. Nicky married Cristina quickly because she has the baby. Is okay, really,” Raquel continued, in rolling English. “We did not know about her. One day here is Nicky telling us he has a child. The boy is a month old. No es posible, we all say, but he says yes, the child is his. A Romero. Las tías call Alex la inmaculada concepción.” She paused, searching for the words. “Ah, sí, immaculate conception.”

  This should be funny. Mary
Beth wanted it to be funny. “I don’t understand,” she murmured.

  “He and Cristina, they behave like strangers. No one can imagine how they…” She shrugged, helpless to explain. “You know.” She paused, obviously hoping Mary Beth would catch on. “Nicky would not act that way with a woman who had his child. No es posible, but the child is a Romero,” Isabel continued. “He married because of duty. Now he will marry because he is … enamorado?”

  “In love,” Mary Beth translated automatically.

  Raquel grabbed her hand in a reassuring squeeze. “All will be okay. You will see. Nicky will explain.”

  Mary Beth wanted to say Nicky doesn’t have to, but she didn’t. Instead, she watched Raquel go back into the house.

  She’d learned nothing from her life or her mistakes.

  Nicholas Romero kept his secrets well.

  ***

  “What?” Nick asked, loud enough for one of his aunts to open the library door to see if he was all right. Explaining that he was, he closed the door again and listened as Carlos told him what he’d learned.

  There was no doubt that Mark Williams was being hunted down as a gunrunner. Not only were San Matean Rangers and American Special Forces trying to capture him, but Carlos had verified that the Secret Service was involved. He’d been told to stop asking questions. The fact that Jonathan Ethridge was not even answering calls could mean nothing but Nick doubted it. He silently cursed the old spy and acknowledged that the CIA was probably involved. But what the Secret Service had to do with a gunrunner made no sense.

  “Where was Williams last seen?”

  “Along our northern frontier with Monte Blanco,” Carlos replied. “As far away from the Río Hermoso and the Primero de Mayo as he could possibly be.”

  That information matched what Roberto Vidal had told him. “So why does the government think he’s the one selling arms to them?”

  “There is a report that details his activities over several years.”

  It still made no sense. Why would Primero de Mayo hold their source of weapons hostage? To what end? Money? The desire for international attention? Possibly, yes, but there had been no publicity. And Mark Williams and Daniel knew each other. Was that the reason the old man wanted Daniel’s Río Hermoso house burned? Because there was a connection between a gunrunner and his son?

  Or because there was a connection between a gunrunner and himself? Vargas had the power to create and destroy reports, to make things happen, to—

  “Nick,” Carlos said, “I have been told by one source that the Americans have a dossier on the sister. According to this, she is heavily involved as the one who handles the money. According to another source who cannot verify such an allegation, the Americans wanted her out of the country, but when she refused, they washed their hands of her. They will let Vargas and the Rangers take her because they believe her as guilty as her brother.”

  Mary Beth was expendable. Had he been wrong about her? Had he been fooled by an attraction he didn’t understand?

  “Nick, do you want me to ask more questions?”

  “Sí, por favor, but quietly, nothing that can be traced back to either of us. And find what you can on this Elliot Smith. I will call you when I can,” Nick replied, and hung up the telephone.

  Now, to see if he’d been right about Mary Beth Williams.

  Because if Antonio Vargas was manipulating the situation, the pretty woman so determined to save her brother could be nothing more than the general’s pawn—or guilty as sin.

  Or both.

  ***

  Mary Beth stood uncertainly against one of the living room walls. The Romeros were still dancing, even though the older aunts were sitting down. She’d walked in just in time to see one of them open the door to the library. Through the slightly open door she’d seen Nick, his expression at first surprised, then tense. Something was up and it wasn’t good.

  She didn’t know what to say to him. Should she ask what was wrong first? Or should she tell him that the kiss had been nothing more than the result of too much wine and a beautiful night?

  She’d let herself be tempted by a man when she knew better. The kind of man she would never understand, nor trust, who moved in a world filled with secrets.

  Looking around at the Romeros, she reminded herself that Nick’s world was also made up of family. He demonstrated a deep-rooted sense of responsibility to that family. He’d fathered a child and he’d given that child his name and his love. She knew of several men who had refused to take any responsibility for their children. What made her she think she could claim any of that caring for herself? A simple kiss under a dark, star-spangled sky? She was being as childish as she’d been before. Worse, because she couldn’t excuse herself with a claim of innocence anymore. She knew the realities of the world, knew how people used others. If he saw no need to bring up the kiss, she certainly wouldn’t.

  He came out of the library, paused to speak with one of his male cousins, then moved around the dancers. He scanned the room, finally settling his gaze on her.

  Mary Beth’s breath caught at the expression on his face. Businesslike. Uncompromising. This was not the man who’d touched her so gently. Here was a man who did the expedient, like her parents. Like Paul Martens.

  Angered at how easily she’d succumbed to his charm, how impressed she’d been with his accomplishments, she put on her best cosmopolitan smile, joined her hands behind her back to steady a slight tremor and faced the stranger Nick Romero had once again become.

  “What did Carlos have to say?” she asked, hoping he hadn’t heard the tiny quiver in her voice.

  “When was the last time you saw your brother?” He nodded absently at Raquel, then grasped Mary Beth’s elbow and led her into the library.

  “About a year ago,” she replied, now sure the telephone call had dealt with Mark.

  He closed the door behind them. “Where?”

  The room felt small, stuffy, the sounds of the party still clear through the closed door. She turned to look at him. “He came to see me in Atlanta.”

  “When was the last time you spoke?” The question was smooth, the bite behind it sharp.

  “Four months ago. He called.” As she struggled for patience, she clenched her fists so tightly her nails bit into her palms. “Has something happened to Mark? Do you know something?”

  “What did he say?” Nick insisted.

  Perilously close to tears, Mary Beth replied, “That he was okay, that he might be out of touch for a few months.”

  “When did he give you Daniel’s name and number?”

  “Three years ago.”

  “Not when he saw you?”

  “No, he didn’t say anything about him. He only told me not to worry. He said not to contact the engineering company he works for.”

  “So you didn’t, even when you got the ransom demand?”

  “No, of course not! The kidnappers told me they’d kill him.”

  “You came straight to San Mateo?”

  “I called your cousin’s number. I told you that. Remember? Then I called you.” Mary Beth’s hands were numb from clasping them so tightly.

  “Why me?”

  “I researched the Primero de Mayo and I read that you had negotiated the release of some Argentinian oil field workers last year. People I know in the diplomatic corps vouched for you. I thought you would be able to make sure that Mark got out of this alive.”

  “What if you hadn’t been able to contact me? What would you have done?”

  “I would have hired someone.”

  “Who do you know in the country? Who would you have asked?”

  “My college roommate’s father is Enrique Norton, the chairman of the Organization of American States.”

  He paused, surprise evident on his face, then rolled his shoulders back before asking, “Does he know about this?”

  “No. I found you. There was no need to say anything further to him.”

  “Anything further?”

>   “I asked him if he knew you. He said he did, that you are … above reproach. Those are the words he used.”

  Nick looked down at her. She could see nothing of the man who’d kissed her in the quiet of the night.

  “You’re doing all of this for a brother who’s barely been in contact with you.” It was more statement than question.

  “Wouldn’t you do anything for your brother?” she asked more sharply than she’d intended.

  His response, completely unexpected after their exchange, almost broke her heart with its sincerity.

  “Yes.”

  ***

  Mary Beth obviously knew nothing about her brother’s activities. All Carlos had learned about her was hearsay. Misinformation. There probably was no dossier, certainly not one that proved her guilty of anything. She would never have considered contacting anyone else on behalf of her brother if she knew he was running guns, certainly not a man of Enrique Norton’s stature. She couldn’t know the general. Nick had been insane to think it, even for a moment.

  Insane because he’d let Antonio Vargas’ admission push him into reaching for something fine, just to prove that they weren’t alike.

  But they were. The proof lay in the fact that he would use Mary Beth to get at the general. Use her and her brother to get the answers he needed about his own, to avenge his own.

  Williams and Daniel knew each other well enough that Daniel gave the man his private number which Williams passed on to his sister. The gunrunner and the Ranger captain. Nick could not allow Daniel’s name to be dragged through the mud. It would destroy his mother.

  They drove back to the house in silence, Mary Beth stiff and staring out the window into the dark of night. Nick composed a hundred different ways to tell her what he’d learned, but discarded each one.

  She would be devastated when she learned of her brother’s actions.

  And he could offer no consolation. He couldn’t touch her again. Wouldn’t. Because he liked her. Admired her courage. Yes, he wanted her, but hearing about her family and knowing she’d been used by Martens, a man who’d betrayed not only her, but his country, reinforced the knowledge that she would be cautious with anyone, especially a man. She would expect loyalty and honesty after that nightmare.