Cherry Adair - T-flac 03 (9 page)

Kyle accepted another cup of coffee from the servant behind him, settling back to enjoy the show. Her run might be short, but she was a pleasure to watch in action.

"Good morning,
mi paloma
," Ramon greeted her, all affable charm, friendly smiles, and bonhomie. "I trust you slept well?"

"Just peachy, thanks," she said coolly, and started to pull out the chair beside him.

"No, no." Montero waved her away with an avuncular, too-white smile. Like a cartoon character, he was too handsome. Kyle almost expected to see the flash superimposed on his teeth. "Kyle has kept a space for you, there by his side."

Jaw tight, she spun on one high heel and took the chair to Kyle's right, handing her large hat to a hovering servant who didn't know what the hell to do with it. It passed down the line of servers until it disappeared out the door. Delanie ran her index finger under her necklace in an unconscious gesture he'd noticed several times yesterday. He wondered why she wore it if the thing bothered her so much.

"And who is this delightful young woman, Ramon?" The question broke the silence punctuated by cutlery and crockery chinking.

Montero glanced up. "Takeshi Sugano, Delanie Eastman."

Sugano scrutinized her for a moment before his sumo wrestler shoulders dipped in a small formal bow.

Despite his roly-poly appearance Sugano was no benign despot. Kyle had firsthand experience of how well the Yakuza operated. They gave the Italian Mafia a run for their money in creativity alone.

Five-foot-two in his heel lifts, his appreciation for tall blond American women was legendary. And he liked what he saw.

Next, Montero introduced Karl Danzigger. The man flushed, running his freckled, chalk-pale fingers through his red hair. "Miss Ea-Ea-Eastman." His stammer sounded strangely musical with his Dutch accent. In his early fifties, Danzigger lived a reclusive lifestyle, seldom removing himself from his high-security estate in Holland.

Through Montero, Kyle had met him on his home turf in Delft two years ago. Like Sugano, Danzigger's reign of terror across half of Europe was renowned, despite his seclusion.

Kensington hadn't shown for breakfast. Kyle had been unpleasantly surprised last night to learn that he'd arrived with Montero's mother in tow the day before. Apparently the woman had decided on the spur of the moment to take a vacation with her son. Another female complication he hadn't anticipated.

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He still wanted to recon the compound to get the lay of the land. The infrared was good, but nothing beat up-close-and-personal verification. There were final arrangements to be made, and a myriad of other small vital bits of business to wrap up before Saturday.

But first things first.

Kyle dropped his napkin beside his empty plate. "I'm taking Delanie with me into San Cristobal this morning," he informed Ramon when the other man glanced up. "I'll take care of the other matter at the same time."

Ramon frowned. "Is that wise,
amigo
?"

Kyle cocked an eyebrow.

Montero smiled, waving away his own concern. "You know what is best, of course."

Kyle rose, placing both hands on Delanie's tense, bare shoulders. She felt fragile. It wouldn't take much to break her bones. He wondered how much it would take to break her spirit. He let his thumbs brush against her neck and felt her shiver. Stubborn and foolishly brave as she was, he couldn't afford to take pity on her.

He kept eye contact with Montero. "Perhaps your mother requires a ride back to the city, too?" he added pointedly. "I'd be happy to escort her to a comfortable hotel in San Cristobal."

"Thank you for offering, Dr. Wright." A sultry voice, tinged with annoyance, made all heads swivel to the open door way. Isabella Montero was stunning in the way that only a woman of means could afford. It was hard to believe she was Ramon's mother. The plastic surgeons in Switzerland were true artists.

"As I have only just arrived, it would be foolish to have the pilot take me back." She gave him an assessing look. "Would it not?"

Elegantly smoothed-back hair accentuated a widow's peak above striking dark eyes. The loose knot of black hair coiled at her nape set off a pale olive complexion, wine-red lips, and expertly kohled eyes. She had the toned body of a thirty-year-old and accented the positive in the understated linen dress with a large, rather barbaric, gold pendant hanging on a long heavy chain to rest between her voluptuous breasts.

Regally she strolled to the seat beside her son. Taking the chair a servant held out for her, she accepted the air kiss Montero directed at her cheek. "You may resume your seat." She glanced pointedly at Kyle.

He ignored the command, and her gaze flicked to Delanie. "And to whom do you belong?"

Beneath his fingertips, Delanie's slender shoulders tensed.

"I don't
belong
to anyone," she said sweetly, ignoring the warning pressure of his fingers. "Ramon and Kyle kinda share me, ya know?" The "bimbo" voice grated, as it was supposed to.

"You might have potential, my dear, but I can assure you it is not being realized." Isabella's eyes reminded Kyle of two hard, dark cherries as she took in Delanie's bright dress and pink-plastic flamingo earrings with obvious distaste. "I'm surprised at Dr. Wright's lack of… discernment."

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Before Delanie could volley that one back, Kyle got a grip on her arm and hauled her troublemaking little ass out of her seat. He gave her a shut-your-mouth-and-don't-stir-up-shit look. Delanie's eyes went dark. His fingers tightened in a warning to keep those luscious fuchsia lips pressed together.

She acquiesced with a squeak of annoyance before she slid her hand into the curve of his elbow and gave him a sensual smile. "These boys of mine are always in such a hurry, ya know?"

Oh Lord, Kyle thought, unwillingly amused. "Don't overdo it, Sarah Bernhardt," he cautioned under his breath.

He glanced at Isabella. "I'll take her off for a little refresher course in interpersonal skills." He refused to release her, even when Delanie squirmed. He wasn't hurting her, despite his fingers covering the days-old marks on her arm.

Mama Montero gave him a sultry smile. For all her beauty there was something rather unsavory and predatory about her bee-stung mouth. Kyle managed a counterfeit smile. He still had an old-fashioned notion of what a mother should look like. Isabella Montero didn't even come close.

"Say good-bye, Delanie."

A meaningful glance passed between mother and son. Isabella leaned in to whisper to Montero. He rose, cutting off Delanie's next salvo.

"I'm afraid your excursion into town must wait until later, if you will, my friend," Ramon said. "I'm taking all of you on a little outing to a special place."

"Something more important than my errand into town?" Kyle asked tersely. Now what the hell was Montero up to? The damn clock ticked with annoying volume in his head. No way in hell was he keeping Delanie up here for another twenty-four hours.

Montero pulled at his eyebrow. "It was scheduled for tomorrow, was it not?"

"I'd prefer to get it over with and bring my supplies back here so I can get started," Kyle said flatly.

"Every day wasted is another day without the money in the bank. Your choice."

"I'm sure a few hours won't make any difference at all, Doctor." Isabella Montero smiled. "Don't be impatient. Whatever it is, will wait."

Montero couldn't tie his shoelaces without Mommy's sayso? The Oedipus complex was another facet of Montero's personality unexposed.

Curiouser and curiouser.

When he went into San Cristobal he'd have his people dig deeper into Isabella's background. There was something about the woman… something Kyle couldn't quite put his finger on.

His gaze went from mother to son and back again. He quirked a brow.

Montero shrugged and glanced away to address the others. "I suggest everyone change into sturdy shoes and comfortable clothing. We'll meet on the patio in, say, fifteen minutes?"

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Sugano and Danzigger rose agreeably. No stress there. They, and Kensington, were full partners in this.

All they planned to do this week was kick back, relax, and rake in the dough.

Were they in for a surprise!

Delanie's earrings jiggled as she threw Kyle a mock smile. "I'll just stay right by the pool and do my nails instead, okay, sweetie?" Big brown eyes sparkled with triumph.

Little witch.

"No,
mi paloma
. You will come, too," Montero insisted charmingly, giving his mother his arm. Like a ridiculous wedding procession, they walked into the wide hallway. Montero paused, glancing back at her. "You will enjoy the nature lesson, little dove. There are some interesting sights to see."

Delanie rolled her eyes in a "yeah, right" gesture when he turned his back. Obviously the last thing she wanted to do was go with them on this oddly timed nature walk.

Why? What did she want to do back here at the hacienda on her own? It was a mistake for her to telegraph her emotions the way she did.

Being that transparent could prove deadly.

«^»

Even at ten in the morning, the sun filtering through the trees was dim and oppressive. A variety of exotic undergrowth thrived in the dark, rich soil. Vegetation struggled for control of available space, vying for the occasional ray of sun filtering through the dense foliage canopy overhead. The tropical jungleness was not nearly as attractive in real life as it was in the movies. Steamed, eaten alive, and drowning in perspiration, Delanie wondered how it was possible a body could sweat so much and not shrivel into a prune.

She'd changed into thin, bright yellow cotton pants, a matching long-sleeved top, and sturdy lace-up boots, her hair stuffed into a baseball cap, ponytail pulled through in back. She'd never given a rat's patoot about fashion until she'd assumed the bimbo persona, which would, no doubt, earn her a spot on Mr. Blackwell's list of the fashion impaired.

As soon as this was over, she'd return to her normal couture; the baggier and more comfortable her clothing the better. She'd borrowed the outfit from Lauren's vast closet in Las Vegas. The boots were her own.

On a positive note, the dreadful outing provided an opportunity to look around in broad daylight. She could practically hear a giant clock ticking in her head with each footstep she took.

Lauren
had
to be somewhere here on Izquierdo. There was nowhere else to look.

Almost stumbling over a twisted vine, she could practically feel Kyle's eyes on her butt. Trotting along behind Ramon and the others, she kept a respectable distance between those in front and
him
behind.

Why he was lagging, she hadn't a clue. She'd refused to speak to him since she'd slammed and locked his
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bedroom door in his face so she could change for this mandatory outing.

Kyle had behaved like a Neanderthal at breakfast. Putting possessive hands on her while sending flirtatious glances at Isabella. The woman was old enough to be Kyle's mother.

Delanie did a hop-skip to keep her balance on the uneven terrain. Too bad Mommy Dearest didn't act her age. Isabella, of course, was back at the compound, no doubt sipping a cool drink under a fan, while they got chewed alive by nasty little bugs as they hiked to China.

Visually exploring, Delanie pretended a fascination with the vibrant orange and fluorescent pink orchids hanging in masses from the trees. She ducked as a scarlet macaw swooped just over her head to land in a nearby tree.

Kyle moved up beside her. He wore jeans, black of course, with a T-shirt and heavy boots. And the ubiquitous shoulder holster. Thankfully, he'd waited until she was done in "their" bedroom to change his own clothes, managing to avoid more conflict. He hadn't broken a sweat, naturally, and she wished he'd worn something other than the thin, black silk T. It stretched across his chest and abs, and accentuated his biceps.

"What are you so pissed off about now?"

"Me?" She opened her eyes wide. "Now why should I be pissed off?" She kept her voice low, although there were enough jungle noises to drown out the Boston Pops. "Goodness, could it be because I
live
to watch macho men attempt a little male bonding while they show off their survival skills?" She paused. "Or gee, could it be because somehow I woke up in your bed this morning?" She was on a roll. "Or how about the prehistoric way you behaved at breakfast, or the—"

"Don't blame me if you insist on taking risks."

"What are you talking about?" She shoved a hank of damp hair back into her cap and kept on walking, her black canvas beach bag swinging against her hip.

"I'll give you a piece of advice, jungle girl. The fates have conspired to allow your continued presence here. At least for another day. Don't aggravate Isabella. Tick off either of the Monteros and you'll be gone so fast your head will spin.
If
your're still alive, of course."

"I'll take that under advisement."

His eyes narrowed as he watched her speculatively. "Have any idea why Montero touched your neck back there?"

"Back where?"

His braid slithered over his shoulder as he jerked his head back in the direction of the compound. "When we passed through the gates near the generator building."

"I don't remember. Why?"

"He was deactivating that necklace of yours," he said conversationally. "The one that irritates you so much."

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She stopped dead to stare up at him. "D-deactivating?"

"Ever own a dog?"

"Damn it, Kyle—"

"There's a small sensor hidden in it. The second you move beyond that chain-link fence… Zap!"