Against the Law (27 page)

“You weren't hired for all of this.”

“Are we still on the payroll?”

“Goes without saying.”

“Then we're in.”

Dev inwardly smiled. The men would work for free if he asked them. And the truth was, until this was over, he needed them.

Riggs led Chrissy out of the room and Dev hoisted her up in his arms and propped her against his shoulder.

“Where's my mama?” she asked, her green eyes darting around in search of Lark, her fine dark eyebrows pulled into a worried frown.

“That's where we're headed. Your mama's waiting for you at the top of that hill.” He turned and pointed toward the low hills at the edge of the city.

“How'd she get up there?”

He grinned. “Same way we're gonna get there, muffin.” Walking around to the passenger side of the Jeep, he set her on the seat and strapped her in with the seat belt. It wasn't the safest way to transport a child, but for now it was the best he could do. He reached out and ran a hand over her silky dark hair, exactly the texture and color of Lark's—minus the red highlights, of course.

She was such a sweet little girl. If he ever had a daughter he would want one just like—he broke off the thought that had occurred to him before.

Not gonna happen,
he told himself, ignoring the heavy weight that seemed to press down on his chest.

“Hang on, okay? Sometimes Uncle Jake's Jeep can get kind of cantankerous.”

“What's cantanerous?”

“
Cantankerous.
It means cranky. Just like you first thing in the morning.”

Chrissy let out a peal of laughter.

Dev smiled and turned to Jake. “I'll call you as soon as I know anything.”

“You got it.” Jake slapped Dev on the shoulder. “Stay safe.”

“You, too.”

Dev climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. With a final wave at his friends, he put the Jeep in gear and drove out of the parking lot.

T
he guesthouse was as beautifully furnished as the rest of the house, spacious, with a living room, kitchen, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a powder room in the entry. There was a wet bar, a fireplace, and a lovely view of the massive swimming pool in the verdant backyard enclosed by the U-shaped house.

It was amazing what drug money could purchase.

It was also a terrifying way to live.

There were guards posted at intervals around the outside walls, and men patrolled the grounds. There were no soldiers, no barracks, as there had been at Alvarez's compound, but clearly it was a way of life that had to be defended.

Lark couldn't help thinking what her mother had told her when she was a teen, that almost no one used drugs until the middle of the twentieth century. Anyone who got involved was ostracized by society.

Now the drug problem was completely out of control.
Thousands of people in Mexico were murdered each year, whole families like the Wellers wiped out. The Mexican government laid much of the blame on the backs of the Americans, whose unquenchable demand for drugs was the monster that drove the industry.

Lark tried to put those things out of her head as she and Chrissy dressed for supper in the clothes that had been laid out for them. Hers was a lovely tea-length white eyelet off-the-shoulder sundress—November in Mexico was still sunny and warm. Though the dress was a little too loose, once the sashes at the waist were tied behind her back it appeared to be a perfect fit.

Chrissy wore a simple shift made of pink sateen with a double row of ruffles around the hem. Both of them wore pretty silver, loose-fitting, slip-on sandals.

The note on the bed beside the clothes had read,

How could these people seem so normal? Clearly they were so sheltered from the real world they had lost all perception of reality.

One thing Lark knew for certain: as long as they were in Ricardo de La Guerra's home, they were in danger.

She reached out and took hold of Chrissy's hand. “You ready, sweetheart?”

The child looked down at the pink sateen dress. “It's really pretty.”

Lark smiled. “Yes, it is, but not as pretty as you.”

Chrissy grinned up at her.

Lark took a steadying breath, opened the door and they walked into the guesthouse living room. She found Dev pacing in front of the empty hearth in the same tan slacks and blue flowered shirt he'd had on in San Felipe. He had showered and shaved. His hair, still damp from the shower, gleamed almost blue-black. He was so handsome her heart squeezed.

“Looks like my ladies are ready.” His gaze ran over Chrissy, moved to Lark, and he smiled. “You both look beautiful.”

Chrissy turned shy and stared down at her feet but Lark could see she was pleased.

“I can't believe they bought us clothes,” Lark said, smoothing the front of her white eyelet dress.

“It isn't that far to town.” Those incredible blue eyes moved over her, taking in the slight cleavage the dress revealed, the trim curve of her waist. For an instant, he let down his guard and she read the hunger, the desire for her he usually worked to hide. Her breath caught. Her gaze locked with his and the air seemed to thicken and pulse between them. He wanted her. And now he knew that she also wanted him.

Dev cleared his throat, breaking the spell. Chrissy twirled a little, making the pink sateen ruffles flare out around the hem. “I think the señora is very good at picking out dresses.”

Dev smiled. “I think so, too.” He looked at Lark. “I think Señora de La Guerra likes you. After all, you are a celebrity of sorts.”

“I design handbags. That hardly makes me a celebrity.”

“How many did she tell you she owned?”

Lark grinned. “Five.”

Dev grinned back. “Like I said…”

Her cheerful expression began to fade. “The don agreed to help us, but I'm not sure I believe him.” She hadn't liked the looks that had passed between de La Guerra and Castillo when Dev had relayed his phone conversation with Montez.

“We have to take his word for it. We don't have any choice.”

“Alvarez will be flying into Cabo tomorrow morning,” she said. “Why isn't de La Guerra doing more to prepare?”

“I don't know. Maybe we'll find out tonight.”

Lark hoped so. But the drug lord's attitude had been too casual, too cavalier for an endeavor of this magnitude.

Something wasn't right.

She could feel it.

And looking at the tight set of Dev's jaw, she was sure he could feel it, too.

 

Supper was amazing. Traditional Chihuahuan dishes of
arracheras,
strips of seasoned beef;
pechuga de pollo,
grilled chicken with roasted chili sauce and
menoita,
a regional white cheese, along with vegetables and wheat tortillas. For dessert, flan baked in
mescal
sauce.

Family and guests sat at a long oak dining table beneath heavy iron chandeliers. In a carved, high-backed
wooden chair, the don surveyed his domain from the head of the table, his wife, Dolores, to his right.

Lark sat next to the señora, a handsome woman in her early fifties. Though fine lines flared from the corners of her eyes and silver threads wove through her heavy black hair, Dolores de La Guerra was a beautiful woman. She was the matriarch of the family and everyone treated her with respect.

At the opposite end of the table, the don's eldest son, Miguel, was a man in his thirties, good-looking, with his father's intelligent dark eyes and high forehead, but there was a softness in Miguel's features that had been eroded away in the father.

Miguel's wife, Bianca, was not as tall as Lark and thicker through the middle but she was pretty and sweet. Her ten-year-old son, Stefano, sat next to his sister, Soledad, who was about the same age as Chrissy.

They ate off bright-colored, glazed pottery plates, and rich red wine was served in heavy colored-glass goblets. The meal progressed somewhat formally at first, but soon became more relaxed. One of the children laughed too loudly and received a dark look from the don, but it didn't last long, and Lark suspected from the proud way he looked at his family, he must be an indulgent grandfather.

Dev made casual conversation with Miguel and Bianca, but Lark could see the tension in his shoulders. He was worried about Alvarez and the man's determination to see them dead, and he was anxious to do something about it. He was holding himself in check, but she wasn't sure how long that was going to continue.

Slowly supper came to a close. As soon as the children were finished, servants arrived to shepherd them to a playroom at the back of the house.

Lark's worry for Chrissy must have shown in her face.

“Do not be concerned, Señorita Delaney,” the don said. “There are enough toys and games to keep them occupied for hours and Conchita watches over them like a mother wolf with her cubs.”

She felt Dolores's hand on her arm. “What happened to your Chrissy's parents is well known in Mexico. I understand your fears, but my husband would never let anything happen to your child.”

Lark managed to smile. “I appreciate that.”

As the children were led away, a servant dressed in a white jacket appeared, pushing a cart that rattled over the uneven tile floors.

“Would anyone care for an after-dinner drink?” the don asked. “Perhaps a glass of port or brandy?” He turned to Lark. “Or maybe you would be courageous enough to try some
sotol.
It is a local beverage made from a plant similar to an agave.”

Why not?
They weren't going anywhere, at least not tonight, and if the don wanted to murder them in their sleep, he didn't need to get them drunk to do it.

She smiled. “All right, I'll try it.”

The servant poured the liquid into a tiny glass and set it in front of her. Lark took a tentative sip. “It's very good. Cool and sort of sweet.”

The don seemed pleased. “I am glad you like it.”
Along with Dev and his son, Miguel, he enjoyed a snifter of brandy. But no one had a second drink.

Lark could read the worry in Dev's face, growing more pronounced by the moment. Just when she was certain he was going to say something about Alvarez and the mission, de La Guerra spoke up.

“Perhaps the ladies will excuse us. There are a few things we need to discuss.”

“Of course.” Dolores rose as a servant pulled out her chair.

Lark stood up, too. She wished she could go with the men but there was only so much the don would allow and besides, Dev was the soldier.

“If you don't mind, Señora de La Guerra,” Lark said, “I would like to retrieve my child and retire for the evening. It's been a long day.”

Dolores smiled kindly. “Of course. I will walk with you to the playroom.”

Lark heard the sound of heavy footfalls as the men headed off down the hall toward Don Ricardo's study. Unconsciously her worried gaze followed.

“Come,” Dolores said. “Your friend, Mr. Raines, will be fine.”

Lark just nodded. She knew they would be discussing the raid, making plans to get rid of Antonio Alvarez once and for all.

All least she hoped that was what they were doing.

Unfortunately, she wasn't convinced.

 

Dev softly closed the front door of the guesthouse and walked quietly across the living room. He jerked to a halt when a lamp next the sofa clicked on.

“I didn't mean to scare you. I couldn't go to sleep until I knew what had happened.”

He walked over and sat down beside her. She was still wearing the simple white eyelet dress and she looked young and incredibly pretty. She had done her hair in the wispy fashion that suited her, and riding in the open Jeep had pinkened her cheeks. A hint of cleavage peeked over the top of her dress, reminding him that her breasts were just the size to fill his hands. He loved her lips, so plump and pink and soft. If he leaned over just a little—

“Dev?”

He shook his head. What the hell was he doing? “Sorry. I must be tired.”

“Tell me what happened.”

He sighed. “Not enough. I don't know what game de La Guerra is playing but I don't like it.”

“What did he say?”

“I pressed him about the time frame, the fact that Alvarez will be arriving in Cabo in the morning, that we need to be there when his plane lands. The don says he's taking care of what needs to be done. I guess that means he's sending men on his own. Maybe tonight, I don't know. He says that according to what I told him, Alvarez will be staying with his mistress for the next four days. That gives him plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time for what?” Lark asked.

Dev rake a hand through his short dark hair. “That's what I'd like to know.” He released a slow breath. “We've presented him with the perfect opportunity, exactly what he's been looking for. I don't understand why he isn't on top of this. Why we aren't already on our way.”

“Surely, he doesn't intend to go down there himself.”

“I wouldn't think so. The way he keeps hedging, I have no idea what he's got planned.”

“I don't like this.”

“Neither do I.”

The sat phone rang. Dev pulled it out of the pocket of his slacks and flipped it open. “I'm here.”

“Where the hell are de La Guerra's men?” Cantrell demanded. “I figured you would have called by now with the set up. For chrissake, the guy's gonna be here tomorrow.”

“We just got out of a meeting. The don says he's got it handled. He isn't worried about the extra men. We're supposed to talk again in the morning. Maybe by then he'll have things worked out. In the meantime, there's nothing more you can do. You might as well get a good night's sleep.”

“Jesus.”

“I know.”

Cantrell's slow breath whispered over the line. “That's it, then. That's all we've got?”

“That's it.”

“Sonofabitch,” he said and the phone went dead.

Dev turned to Lark. “Cantrell's worried.”

“So am I.”

A muscle tightened in his jaw. “We'll know more in the morning. I guess we might as well go to bed.”

Her eyes swung to his. She looked at him as if just hearing him say it turned her on. Jesus, it sure as hell turned him on.

“Don't look at me like that unless you mean it. Because I'm so wired right now, I could take you all night long and still not get enough.”

Her cheeks colored prettily and she glanced away. “I'm sorry, it's just that…”

“Believe me, I know.” She was sitting so close he could smell her soft perfume, see the flecks of gold in the centers of her green cat eyes. “God, you turn me on.”

A pulse throbbed wildly at the base of her throat, and he could hear her heightened breathing.

“I know you feel it,” he said. “I know you want the same thing I do.”

A sad smile rose on her lips and she slowly stood up from the sofa. “You're right. I want you. You'll never know how much.” She leaned down and pressed a brief, soft kiss on his lips. “Good night, Dev.”

He forced himself to ignore the ache in his groin, the constant desire for her that rode him like a ravenous beast. “Good night, baby. I'll see you in the morning.”

He watched her walk into the bedroom and close the door.

She had done him a favor, he told himself.

Done them both a favor.

Then again, maybe de La Guerra was lying and tomorrow he would have far worse things to worry about than falling in love.

 

Morning finally arrived, a bright, clear day in Ciudad del Cordon.

Dev and Lark were both up early, anxious for word from the don. Lark found coffee and a coffeemaker in the
kitchen and gratefully brewed a pot. Setting a cup down for Dev on an end table in the living room, she carried one for herself over to the sofa and sat down. Picking up the English version of the November issue of
People
magazine, one of a stack of reading material left for them on the coffee table, she leaned back and tried to read.