Killer Secrets (8 page)

Because of Carmelita Fuentes. Because Diego was a
drug-dealing slime pit with more enemies than

friends and hands so bloodstained Ian could smell the
stench of them anytime he was around the other

man.

And soon, his own hands would carry the same stench, Ian thought
with a sigh, as Deke pulled a white

Range Rover to a stop in front of the villa.

Rather than driving this time, Ian stepped into the back
seat, accepted a briefcase from Mendez, and

opened it as the doors closed and the vehicle drove way.

The fourth bodyguard was in another Rover behind them,
providing backup and an additional vehicle in

case this one encountered any unforeseen accidents. In this
business, Ian had learned to expect the

unforeseen.

DIEGO WATCHED AS THE ROVERSleft the estate, a frown on his
face, his jaw clenched with

worry and concern as Ian left the protection of the estate.
He worried, a sign of old age perhaps. Each

time Ian left, Diego feared it would be the last time he
saw him.

"El Patrón." Saul entered the breakfast room,
closing the doors behind him and facing Diego with an

inquisitive expression. "You sent for me?"

Saul was old. His shoulders were stooped, his dark eyes a
bit dull, his face creased with age. He had

been Diego's father's most trusted advisor. At Carmelita's
death he had returned to Diego's side.

Diego nodded slowly. "Have you learned anything from
our sources?"

Ian had eliminated the spy in the U.S. government that
Diego had drawn closest to him, Jansen Clay, but

there were others, much more important contacts, who relied
upon Diego as much as he relied upon

them.

"No teams are being sent for him, as you
requested." Saul stepped to the sideboard and prepared

himself a plate of fruits and sweets. "There are
reports that Durango team, the friends he fought with,

have protested this action vociferously, especially the one
known as Macey, but they are being

contained. Orders have gone out to watch his actions only,
and to learn what he has planned. It seems

the Americans are more concerned with your promise that Ian
will eliminate Sorrell than they are with

capturing a traitor." Satisfaction echoed in Saul's
voice, as it did in Diego's heart.

"The boy, he takes too many risks." Diego sighed.
"He goes now to meet with lawyers rather than having

them come to him. As though he dares Sorrell or the other
cartels to strike at him."

"The other cartel leaders are learning to stay out of
his way, Diego. As with yourself and the Americans,

they merely watch him."

"And your report on his activities?" Diego asked.

As much as he loved the boy, and he did, loved him more
than he had loved his youngest son or that

viper Carmelita, he couldn't forget that betrayal could
come from within.

"He has met with no agents that he hasn't
killed." Saul chuckled. "Of course, they attempted to draw

blood first. He does not party, nor does he partake of our
product. He does not surround himself with

the whores and drug groupies that vie for his attention
other than necessary. And those who cling to his

arm at those times are well known to us, and not associated
with any government's law enforcement

agencies. For all appearances, my friend, he has upheld his
word. His loyalty is to you."

Diego nodded slowly. "And your own impressions of
him?"

Saul sighed then.

Diego turned and watched him with an edge of sorrow. Saul's
impressions were as reliable as other

men's reports.

"I must know this, my friend," he said softly.
"What do you believe goes on in my son's mind, in his

heart?"

"There is still much anger," Saul stated as he
laid his arms on the table and regarded Diego. "He has

softened toward you marginally. He does not refuse to hear
the stories I would tell him now of your youth

and your dreams. He listens. But I can see the rage in his
eyes. The events of his childhood and

Carmelita's torments are not forgotten."

Diego clenched his fingers into fists before forcing
himself to relax them.

"He blames me." Diego moved back to the table,
taking his seat with a heavy breath of regret and staring

across the table at Saul. "As well he should. I should
have known Marika had not been killed as my

father reported. I should have known that his fascination
with her would result in a betrayal."

"He was an old man, Diego." Saul shook his gray
head sadly. "The little blond nurse you brought to him

was seen as an angel. An angel that should not be mired in
the blood and treachery of the cartels. He

sought to save her. It was only by chance that Carmelita
learned of her and of the child."

Diego stared at the table, his finger smoothing over the
lace cloth that covered it as he remembered

Marika Desmond. An unusual name, for an unusual woman. She
had been named after her Slavic

grandmother, and she wore her name with pride.

So blond her hair had glistened white beneath the Colombian
sun. Her smile had been filled with dreams

and with purpose as she came to the villages as a nurse,
healing the sick and touching all with her

kindness. She had been unaware of who Diego was, and she
had taken him into her bed with a love that

had touched his soul.

He had known her such a short time. Only months. And he had
never forgotten her. To learn she had

spent the years of his marriage to Carmelita living in
fear, that Ian had nearly died more than once, still

filled him with rage.

Diego's father had arranged it so it appeared Marika had
died. Carmelita had attempted to arrange her

death in truth.

"We made a strong son," Diego whispered, wishing
he could call Marika, wishing he could thank her for

Ian's life, but his son forbade it so violently that Diego
feared his wrath if he attempted it.

"You did," Saul agreed.

"Has she attempted to contact him?" Diego lifted
his gaze to Saul once more. "Have you heard her

voice?"

"He refuses to speak with her," Saul said
heavily. "He has broken all ties, Diego, even those with his

mother. I questioned him just this past week about her. He
said he does not speak to her in an effort to

not add to her pain. She would only plead for his return,
and he has sworn he will not leave the cartel."

Diego wrapped his hand around his coffee cup and stared
into the cooling liquid. Memories of Marika

washed over him, staining his soul with his own regrets.

"She is well?"

"She is well and happy with her American husband. And
protected, Diego. Ian and John Richards see to

this, though Richards is unaware of the two men Ian has
ordered to watch her."

"And my son is loyal?" He lifted his eyes to Saul
again, needing the confirmation.

"In my estimation, he is loyal. And within a few
years, my friend, perhaps he will even call you father."

Diego breathed in roughly. He needed to be called father,
perhaps even one day, grandfather. Recalling

the information he had received last night, he thought that
maybe with a little push, his son would take the

American heiress to the Maclane fortune. If nothing else,
as a lover. Diego did not care if his

grandchildren were legitimate or not. It was blood that
mattered. Now, he understood his father's beliefs

in family, no matter the betrayal. Blood mattered.

Five

SHE WAS A FOOL, ANDKira admitted it as she allowed the
waiter to lead her to the small table of

the restaurant where she had arranged to meet her uncle
that afternoon. The same restaurant where she

knew Ian would be having lunch. Money in the right hands,
and before the morning was over she had

known where to find him.

She was pushing him, pushing herself, and she knew it. Ian
was playing with fire, and she didn't just

mean the operation he was working against Fuentes and
Sorrell.

She was terribly afraid he meant to kill Diego Fuentes, a
monster, a brutal, merciless bastard who

preyed on the weak. But he was still Ian's biological
father. A son should never have to kill his sire. The

repercussions would be horrifying.

She had no proof of it, no verification. All she had was
her own intuition, which she admitted was

colored by her desire for him. And something much more.

There was a part of her that refused to let go of Ian. A
part she had never known existed until last year.

As though beneath the darkness that had been her life for
the past ten years, a shadow of light had begun

moving, weakening her, reminding her that she was a woman.

"Kira, is that you?"

Her head lifted, a smile of pleasure pulling at her lips at
the sight of the small redhead who was coming to

her table. Tehya Talamosi, with her shadowed eyes and
somber face, and Kira's suspicions that she was

as much an agent as the Chameleon was.

"Tehya, what are you doing here?" Over the years
Kira had met the other woman in several different

countries, where she was usually involved with relief
efforts of some sort.

"Vacation." Tehya shrugged, her gaze flickering
around the room. "I just wanted to stop and say hi." She

ducked her head almost shyly, allowing her long hair to
shield her face.

"It's good to see you again." Kira watched her
closely. She couldn't be old enough to be an agent, yet

Kira had the same feeling, the same internal defenses
jumping to life, with the girl as she did with any

other agent. Or enemy.

Tehya smiled back at her, her gaze flickering toward Ian
and a few other scattered tables before she

nodded and turned to walk through the restaurant.

In a glance Kira once again took in the way her denim-clad
legs moved. There was a stiffness that hadn't

been there the last time she saw her, a few years before.
Her shoulders were straighter beneath the light

cotton T-shirt she wore. And as always, Kira felt the need
to protect the other girl.

She shook the feeling off. If Tehya needed her protection
she had ample opportunity to ask for it. Kira

made a mental note to have Daniel run her name through DHS
tonight, see what he could dig up on her.

This mission was too important and the realization that an
unknown could be on the perimeters of it

worried her.

Hiding behind her menu, she lowered her head and closed her
eyes at the sound of Ian's voice as she