Legacy of the Highlands (10 page)

Diego sat at the desk while Serge stood.
Before he’d left the country, he’d told the bodyguard to learn
everything he could about Will’s murder. He was accustomed to
giving orders and expected them to be carried out. Serge never
disappointed him. “What have you got?”

“I put my U.K. contacts on this because of
the dagger that was left at the murder scene. The name Cameron is
associated with a clandestine independence movement in Scotland
called the Group of One Hundred. There’s remarkably little current
information about this organization or its membership, but I’m
working on it. So far your murdered friend has no connection to
this group, but my contact heard some chatter about a John Cameron.
Of course that’s a common name in Scotland, so we need to go deeper
to find out if this John Cameron is actually Will’s father.”

“That son of a bitch. I wouldn’t be surprised
if he is involved,” said Diego with disgust. He pushed his chair
back so hard that it crashed to the floor and then he stalked from
one end of the room to the other as he clenched and unclenched his
fists. “I never liked Will’s parents. They’re made of ice.” He
paused to refocus. Serge was used to Diego’s volatile temper and
calmly awaited instructions.

“Do what you need to do. Pay whomever you
need to pay. Beat the shit out of Cameron if it’ll help get the
information we need. If that
hijo de putana
father of his
had anything to do with Will’s death he’ll be very sorry. The
murdering bastards who did this will pay.” Diego seethed with anger
as he paced the room. “Not only will I know who did this, but I
will also know why. I’ll expect daily reports. That’s all,” he
concluded.

“Yes, sir,” acknowledged Serge as he pulled
the door closed. Lifetime membership in the shadowy netherworld of
international espionage gave him advantages that no police force,
even Interpol, MI-5 or the CIA, could match. Those connections,
combined with Diego’s deep pockets, made him sure that the identity
of Will’s killer wouldn’t stay secret for long. What would happen
once they found the twisted son of a bitch would be up to
Diego.

Alex felt like Cinderella getting ready for the ball.
She told herself it was nothing more than a casual dinner with a
friend, but she hadn’t been to a restaurant since Will’s death and
she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t excited. She styled and re-styled
her hair and told herself to stop fidgeting as she applied makeup.
Although her wardrobe was limited, she tried on and discarded
several outfits before finally settling on a narrow white skirt and
fitted black tank top. She added silver stiletto sandals that set
off her tanned legs and dabbed perfume behind her ears. Will had
been dead for less than two months, yet she still had an innate
need to look good. What was it that made women seek admiration from
men, even those they didn’t care about? The instinct probably went
back to caveman days, she concluded, and ordered herself to chill
and simply enjoy the company of an old friend. When she came
downstairs, Diego’s reaction to her appearance told her that the
effort had been worthwhile.

“You look beautiful,” was all he said as he
took her hand and waved good-bye to Luisa who’d been watching them
like a smug fairy godmother.

“Wow,” Alex murmured when she spotted their
transportation. Diego’s low-slung, silver Maserati Spyder was a
radical and welcome change from the staid, chauffeur-driven
Mercedes she rode in anytime she’d left the villa.

“I’m glad you like it. I love this car,”
Diego said as he held the door for her. An instant later the motor
roared to life. The noise of its powerful V-8 engine and the sense
that she dare not distract Diego from his deft maneuvers all but
eliminated conversation. The car’s contoured leather seats hugged
his body and his eyes never wavered from the road. His driving
reflected his personality: skilled, confident and aggressive. “Nice
going, Navarro. Maybe you’ll let me drive her sometime,” she
commented as he pulled up in front of the restaurant in Coral
Gables. He surprised her when he quirked a brow and grinned.
“Maybe.”

“
Señor
Navarro, how nice to see you
again. It’s been too long,” said the
maître d’
as he
personally escorted them to a table. “Gianni will take care of you
this evening,” he said, motioning to a waiter who instantly
appeared by his side. “If you need anything, please let me know.”
The restaurant was a favorite of Diego’s and based on the reception
he’d received, and the discreet nods and smiles from various
waiters, he was also a favorite of its staff.

The mouth-watering aromas wafting through the
crowded, noisy restaurant from its open kitchen made Alex happy to
have her appetite back. When Diego ordered steak, she decided to
have the same. He added a variety of wines to complement each
course. “They serve Argentine beef here. It’s the best,” he said
with national pride after the waiter and sommelier departed. Then
he turned his attention to the 18-year-old Macallan single malt
he’d ordered — a taste he’d acquired from Will — as Alex toyed with
the delicate stem of her vodka martini’s glass. As they waited for
their first course to arrive they said nothing, nor did they let
their eyes meet, suddenly awkward with each other. Alex crossed her
legs first one way, then the other, but couldn’t get
comfortable.

She cracked first. “We have to talk. I need
to know precisely what happened between you and Will,” she began
after she’d drained her drink. Diego squirmed as her green eyes
locked onto his and he signaled for another round. Whatever was
coming next might be eased with alcohol. “You were such an
important part of Will’s life and mine, and suddenly — poof! — you
vanished last year. I want to know why.”

“No small talk first?” he sighed in
resignation. “I guess this isn’t going to be the amusing evening
I’d hoped for.” He slowly buttered a slice of crusty bread and took
a bite, stalling for time. “I’m surprised Will didn’t tell you why
we fought.” he finally said.

“Oh, he told me, but I want to hear it from
you. He was always honest with me, but my intuition tells me he
lied about this. I don’t know whether he was protecting me, or you,
or himself and now you’re the only person who knows the truth.”

“It’s a long story and I’m afraid it will
upset you. I don’t want to do that.”

“I’m not that fragile,” she snapped while she
absentmindedly fingered her wedding ring, a tangible link with
Will. He’d handpicked its emeralds because they reminded him of her
eyes.

Diego gazed into the amber liquid in his
glass as if he’d find an answer there. He tried to maintain a
pleasant expression, but Alex had seen his eyes grow cold and his
jaw clench. He reached across the table and took both her hands in
his. The physical link seemed to ease his tension and he rubbed his
thumbs back and forth over her knuckles as he gathered his
thoughts.

“Okay. You have a right to know and since
there’s no one else who can do it, I’ll tell you, but not in the
middle of a restaurant...later, when we have privacy. Can’t we
simply enjoy our meal and talk about inconsequential things?
Tension is bad for the digestion.” Diego’s lips curved into a
tentative smile and she watched him rearrange his face into a
reflection of the lighter mood he hoped for, yet there was still
that unfamiliar hardness in the ebony eyes that rested intently on
her face.

“I guess I have no choice since I can’t very
well force you to talk about something you don’t want to,” she
conceded, and smiled coolly as she withdrew her hands from his
grasp.

The strain eased somewhat when the waiter
brought their first course. They limited the conversation to
innocuous comments about the delicious food, friends they had in
common, Diego’s parents, Alex’s enjoyment of the villa, even
politics — anything to avoid talking about Will. They gradually
became comfortable with each other again, assisted no doubt by the
quantity of alcohol they consumed.

“This has been nice, Diego,” Alex admitted
once the table had been cleared, “but don’t think I’m so drunk that
I’ve forgotten your promise to tell me what went down between you
and Will.”

“Don’t insult me, Alex. I’m a man of my word.
I said I would tell you and I’ll keep that promise. But first some
dessert and coffee,” and he motioned to the attentive waiter.

“We’ll have the molten chocolate cake with
cognac
anglaise
, and two coffees.”

“Just one order of cake,” Alex said to the
waiter, “and two forks, please.” She knew she’d want a taste and
she didn’t want Diego to feed her. It would be too intimate and she
sensed he needed clear boundaries. Maybe she did too.

The confection was heaven — gooey, warm and
intensely chocolate. Alex rarely ordered dessert, but she was glad
Diego had a more hedonistic approach to food. The stimulation of
the sugar and caffeine seemed to counteract the effects of the wine
and her mind began to clear. After Diego signed the check, she
asked him to phone Miguel to pick them up.

“You’re in no condition to drive. You
remember that my parents died in a car wreck after too much wine,
don’t you?”

“Of course, and I remember very well what it
did to you. I value my life — and my car — too much to ever drive
after drinking. And I would never put you in danger.” Reassured by
the sincerity of his words, she relaxed. They strolled past the
small shops near the restaurant as they waited for Miguel. The
night was warm and breezy and Alex felt pleasantly relaxed in the
company of an old friend. Once more she congratulated herself on
the decision to leave Boston. She knew she’d have to go back, but
except for Francie and David, she didn’t miss the place a bit.

She didn’t notice the crack in the pavement
until her narrow heel became wedged in it and she stumbled. Diego’s
arms came around her in an instant and he caught her before she
fell.

“Jesus! I could have broken my neck!” She
studied the impractical stiletto sandal and the sidewalk crack
until her erratic heartbeat quieted. “Good reflexes. Thanks,” she
said quietly, as their eyes met.

“I told you that no harm would come to you
while you’re with me and I meant it. You know I’d protect you with
my life if needed.”

“Isn’t that a little melodramatic?” Alex
responded, but he ignored her. She bit her tongue before she
blurted out that he sounded like a macho egotist and that she could
protect herself — or at least she thought she could. The arm that
was still around her waist tightened possessively and as his hand
drifted toward her hip, she drew away, putting distance between
them. Give this man an inch and he takes a mile she thought.
Although she was pretty sure that he wouldn’t come on to her, this
was Diego, after all, and his proximity made her nervous. Will had
often joked that seduction came as naturally to his friend as
breathing. He might instinctively make a move on her before he
realized what he was doing and she wasn’t absolutely certain how
she would react.

He feared the same. His heart had lurched
when she’d stumbled and then did it again as he drew her body
against his side. He was relieved that she had the sense to pull
away before he did something he’d regret.

With perfect timing, the now-familiar black
Mercedes rolled to the curb beside them. Diego waved Miguel back
into the car and held the door for Alex. She deliberately slid to
the far side of the seat and relaxed when he took his place in the
opposite corner. Neither spoke on the short ride back to the villa.
They were aware that Diego could no longer avoid talking about the
rift with Will. And even if she wasn’t absolutely sure that she was
ready to hear about it, Alex had to know.

Despite blaming herself for sending Will on
the errand that ended his life, Alex had gradually accepted that
his murder wasn’t of the wrong time, wrong place variety. Someone
had marked him for death. But why? And who? On those questions, she
still drew an increasingly frustrated blank. She didn’t think that
Will’s fight with Diego had anything to do with it, but whatever
happened between them must have been pretty bad if it had ended a
friendship that had lasted since they were boys. And she’d never
bought the outrageous tale Will had spun for her. She needed the
truth and the only person who could provide that now was inches
away from her.

“You still up for going through with this
tonight?” Diego asked, when they reached the villa.

“Yes, more than ever.” She wanted this sword
of Damocles out of the way.

He led them through the courtyard and past
the pool where he grabbed a couple of oversized towels. They kicked
off their shoes and walked barefoot onto the moonlit beach. Diego
spread the towels on the sand and they sat for a few moments,
settling themselves like mirror images, backs straight, hands
wrapped around their knees. Stars filled the sky and there was a
gentle breeze off the ocean. Alex inhaled the sea’s briny perfume
and allowed the sound of the surf to soothe her as it always did.
If it were Will beside her, she thought, it would be a perfect
night to make love on the deserted beach.

“Where do you want me to begin?” Diego’s
voice broke through the increasingly erotic images flitting through
her mind. Focus, she told herself. She was sure he would tell her
the truth. Diego might be many things, but above all he was a man
of honor.

“Was this fight building for a while or was
it something sudden?”

“The roots of it weren’t so new, but what
happened…oh, it was definitely sudden,” he began. “Your husband
betrayed my trust and for me that was unforgivable. When I found
out, I guess our testosterone got out of hand and then stubbornness
took over. We might have gotten past this eventually. After all, he
was my brother.” He paused and grew quiet.