Mastering the Devil (Rush Series Book 4) (18 page)

She shook her head sadly. “No… no, I didn’t. But I think she may have made certain assumptions about… well, you and me,” she finally finished, looking away embarrassed.

Alex heaved a sigh.
That
he could live with. He hadn’t wanted Devon to know anything about what had gone down in PUERTO VALLARTA. As a law enforcement officer, even one from the I.D.E.A; she would have been required to report it and he’d not wanted her involved at all. “That’s okay,” he finally said.

“Alex…, I
need to tell you something else, but I’m afraid if I do… no, I’m certain that when I do you’ll feel the need to go to her, and you’re really not in a condition to do so,” she gushed.

Exasperation fueled a burning need to explode at someone. He didn’t want to think about Devon right. “What?” he exclaimed sharply!

Wringing her hands together once again, she said, “I didn’t put it together at first until she came by, but it’s been all over the news and she was such a mess, and her arm was taped up. It was when I saw that I understood it was her,” she said, her thoughts obviously jumping one way, then the other.

Alex sighed and clenched his jaw, which just caused his head to pound even harder. “What?
Ensley, put what together?”

“The news, Alex. The news said that
a house had blown up and that someone had died in the explosion. I didn’t know they meant her until she showed up all messed up.”

Anxiety clawed at his insides. She’d been
in another explosion? Would she ever be safe from Miguel Munoz? “Who died?” he asked.

“I don’t know. The news only said the explosion was at a home of an agent with the I.D.E.A.,” she supplied quickly.

He exhaled heavily and for a split second wondered if maybe Miguel had blown himself up, but he couldn’t really see Miguel getting his hands dirty like that. He closed his eyes against the only other two possible choices: it had to have been either Cash… or her mother. Devon would be devastated by either of those and would erroneously blame herself. She’d done it before when the other two agents were killed. But this was different. This was personal and close… too close. She’d been desperate enough to throw her pride aside and seek him out, even after the way things had ended. He wondered how she’d known he was back in Mexico City. He grimaced as he struggled into a sitting position. “How long?” he asked.

Ensley lifted her hands up. “Now, Alex, I told you
, you need to stay still for a few more days. You’ve just had a bullet removed from your leg and it’s susceptible to opening back up, or the very least, getting infected. You have a nasty gash on your head and a concussion. You really need to be in the hospital.”

“How long ago was she here?” he asked impatiently
, brushing her concerns aside.

Her face flushed at the question and she glanced away guiltily.

“Ensley? How long?” he asked again, his voice steely and cold.

“
Early this afternoon,” she finally murmured.

He looked first out the window at the darkness, then over at the alarm clock on the bedside table which read 8:11.
“What? And I’m just now finding out? Her life is in danger. Didn’t you think I should know that?” he accused.

The young, blonde doctor’s face flushed a deep red. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how she’d gotten hurt and she hadn’t said. I only made the connection later and it was so late and I didn’t want to wake you,” she rambled.

He scrubbed a hand against his face. “Did the news say whether the person killed was male or female?”

She slowly shook her head.

Alex’s head seemed to explode when he attempted to rise from the bed and he sank back down carefully as bright white spots appeared before his eyes. “Do you have anything I can take for my head?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Alex, I don’t…”

“Ensley, I appreciate your concern, but right now, I just need something to alleviate pain; anything that will help me get through the time it will take to find her. Can you give me something?”

She eyed
him thoughtfully for several long moments before moving to a backpack thrown into a chair. She rummaged around inside, picking up one thing and then the other until she found what she wanted. She walked back to Alex and dumped a couple small, white pills in his hand. He tossed them back quickly and finished the water she’d gotten him.

“Did my cellphone happen to make it with me here?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Can I borrow yours?”

Once more she dug in her backpack and this time pulled out her phone.

“Thanks,” he said as he opened the drawer in the bedside table and pulled out his address/phone book. Flipping through it, he located
Devon’s number and dialed it quickly. The phone never rang, but instead went straight to voicemail. He pressed his lips together tightly before finding Cash’s number and dialing it quickly. His phone also didn’t ring, but instead connected directly to voicemail. He clicked the phone off without leaving a message. That wasn’t a good sign.

Sluggishly, he rose from the bed
, clenching his jaw as he put weight on his hurt thigh, and handed Ensley back her phone. While his head still hurt, it was at least manageable. He limped into the bathroom and grimaced when he saw his face in the mirror. There was a deep gash along the side of his head, caused by his brush with the bullet. Bruises, deep purple with tinges of yellow, covered nearly one whole side of his face. After brushing his teeth and carefully washing his face, he felt almost like a new man.

Limping back into the room, he saw Ensley packing up her medical supplies. “Thank you for everything,” he said.

She paused and glanced up at him. “You can thank me by not tearing out those beautiful stitches in your thigh. I worked hard on them,” she replied.

He gave her a small grin, “I’ll do my best. I’ll be happy to pay for your services.”

She went back to her task and shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. You can however, donate to the orphanage here in Mexico City, they always need money.”

“I’ll do that,” he promised. He slid open a drawer and removed a clean pair of jeans and white T-shirt. He re-entered the bathroom and dressed clumsily.
When he came back out, Ensley was standing next to the door.

“Call me if you need me. I’ve left my number on the desk. I’ll be in Mexico City for at least two more days,” she said.

“I will, and thanks again. I don’t know what I’d done without you.”

“Can I give you a ride somewhere?” she asked.

He shook his head, but was forced to stop the motion when he was once again reminded of his injury. “No, thanks, I have a driver.”

Slinging her backpack over one shoulder, she turned and opened the door. She looked back over her shoulder and once again eyed him thoughtfully. “She looked lost,” Ensley said softly.

“She’s been lost for a long time,” he replied, as he ran a hand against his short, blonde hair.

Ensley nodded, her eyes sympathetic. “This was more than that. She looked… defeated.”

Alex closed his eyes as guilt riddled his very soul. He should have done more to protect her. He should have been more demanding of her getting out of the business. He should have handled her differently. With a woman like Devon, you didn’t give ultimatums; you cajoled and maneuvered with skill and finesse… not like a bull smashing up the proverbial china shop! He thought about the many loses Devon had already had, and now she was faced with yet another. She’d managed to regain her footing after each devastating blow in the past; but would she be able to do this time? He just wasn’t sure.

Opening his eyes, he looked o
nce again into Ensley’s gentle blue eyes. Alex thought that Dr. Ensley Ingram had chosen her profession well; she had such a compassionate, caring nature. He wondered why no man had ever snatched her up. She was a rare gem among woman. She was gentle but had such great inner strength… just like Devon. He inhaled deeply as his mind once again focused in on the one person he’d always wanted to protect more than any other person alive, but had never been able to… no matter how hard he’d tried. Ensley turned back to him and gave him a quick hug.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” she said, stepping back.

“I will,” he promised.

She patted his arm in comfort before once again taking her leave. He watched her go and wondered how someone with such sensitivity to others would choose to go into places where the people would be so clearly devastated, like the Doctors Without Borders routinely did. He just knew what she saw had to eat at her.

He watched until she entered the elevator before heading back into his room and finished dressing. He wasn’t entirely sure where to start looking for Devon. He guessed he’d start at ground zero - her house.

Chapter 9

Tipton Mays, the driver Alex had secured for this trip, quickly opened the backdoor of the towncar for him and waited until he’d settled into the back before shutting the door firmly. Once he’d slid behind the wheel, Alex gave Tip the address of where Devon’s house, until recently, had stood. He had a hunch he’d find her there, but if she wasn’t, he didn’t begin to know where to search next. It ate at him that he still didn’t know who had died in the fire.

As the towncar slid through the rain-filled streets, he hoped Devon was someplace warm and dry. But he knew her, and knew her well. She’d need to return and morn her loss as well as soak in the destruction so she could blame herself for it. He wished he’d been awake when she’d come to the hotel. He wished he’d remembered to tell her that he and Ensley weren’t together like she
’d thought they were. He sighed heavily. Like his mother used to say…
if wishes were horses, we’d all take a ride
.

The rain had finally let up by the time
they reached what had been Devon’s home. Now, all that was left was a dismal mess. In the near darkness, it was hard for Alex to see any details, but it was obvious that there were no walls standing. Could Devon be there? If so, where would she have found shelter? It didn’t look like anything had survived the explosion and fire.

“Tip, I’ll be right back. Do you have a flashlight in here?” he asked.

Leaning forward, Tip patted beneath the seat before pulling out a long, black flashlight. “Sit tight,” Alex said, when Tip opened the driver’s side door.

Rising awkwardly to his feet, his thigh burning with every movement, he clicked on the flashlight and ducked beneath the yellow crime scene tape which fluttered wildly in the heavy winds which still lingered from the passing storm. Carefully, he picked his way through the debris. He flashed the light around quickly, trying to find any place Devon could have found refuge.
He called her name over and over, but the howling wind carried his voice away, making it ineffective.

He’d passed through most of the house and had nearly given up when he spotted a shed in the backyard just past the pool that remained intact. Picking up his step, he hurried
ly shuffled towards it, once again calling her name. The force of the explosion was brought further home to him when he saw the door to the shed had been blown inward from the blast. Miguel Munoz had not intended for there to be any survivors. Alex only wondered how Devon had once again come away unscathed… well if not unscathed, at least alive.

It took him a long while to force the door open and when he did, he immediately flashed the light around searching for her. He called her name and it echoed in the small enclosure. Shovels, hoes, rakes, and hoses lay in terrible disarray as the blast had knocked everything hanging on the wall to the concrete pad below. But no matter how he searched, there was no Devon.

He turned back to the yard and slowly and methodically began searching the grounds for her, but found nothing. He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face and head, careful to avoid his injury. Where could she be? The thought of her being somewhere alone and hurting made his chest tighten. But he had no idea where to look next.

Picking his way back across the yard, he decided to avoid the
chaos of the house and instead walked to the side of the house. He was forced to step carefully over what had once been a tall wooden fence, but now lay in a jumbled mess. His head was beginning to ache and his thigh burned from all the activity. He was happy to see the parking lights from the towncar just a few yards away. Even though he’d told Tip to stay in the car, old habits died hard, and the white-haired man now stood beside the back passenger-side door of the car, waiting patiently on him.

He’d nearly reached the crime scene tape once again when an unseen tree root caught his foot causing him to stumble forward. His recently injured thigh gave in protest and he fell hard on his knees. The jarring further aggravated both his thigh and his head, and
he fought to combat the nausea which rose up quickly into his throat.

“Sir!” he heard Tip cry, as he made his way to him.

After helping him to his feet, Tip looped an arm under Alex’s arm and across his back to help take the pressure from his injured leg. Grateful for the help, Alex sag into the man as pain ripped through his leg. The flashlight swung wildly as it bounced from Alex’s hand.