Midnight Rescue: A Killer Instincts Novel (12 page)

“Are you visiting Tijuana for business or pleasure?” the taxi driver asked in heavily accented English, his tanned face exuding sincere curiosity.

“Pleasure, of course.” She flashed him a smile. “I’m here to surprise my boyfriend.”

“
Sí
. I understand.” He seemed to be fighting a laugh. “I am sure
su novio
will be
muy
surprised.”

She pictured Abby’s reaction when the cavalry arrived, and shrugged. “I hope so.”

The taxi ride lasted the better part of an hour, as the driver sped along the bumpy dirt roads taking them to the outskirts of the city. When the fence surrounding Jim Morgan’s compound finally came into view, Isabel was eager to get out of the car. The driver—Manuel, as he’d introduced himself—had been chattering on in both English and Spanish, his awkward tries at conversation hindering Isabel’s attempt at a much-needed catnap.

Nevertheless, she gave Manuel a big tip—it was rare to meet truly decent people these days—and hopped out of the taxi, her small travel duffel slung over her shoulder. The cab did a U-turn, then sped off on the red dirt road leading away from the compound. Isabel walked
toward the electric fence. She jammed a manicured finger on the intercom button, and when a crackly voice barked at her to identify herself, she said the three magic words: “Noelle sent me.”

In less than five minutes she was walking up to the main house, admiring the beautiful Spanish-style architecture. She’d just climbed the wide front steps of the veranda when the front doors swung open and a very attractive man with suspicious green eyes stepped outside.

“Noelle sent you, huh?” he said, looking irritated.

“Yes. I’m—”

“Isabel!” came Abby’s surprisingly delighted voice. A second later, Abby appeared on the porch, her blue eyes—blue?—shining with gratitude.

Isabel sucked in a breath at the sight of Abby’s bruised face. “Shit. You look terrible,” she said sympathetically. “You okay, Abs?”

“I’m fine. Better now that you’re here.” Abby grinned. “I knew she wouldn’t make me do this alone.”

“Of course she wouldn’t. She told me you were in trouble and promptly ordered me to fly out here and help you out.”

Abby looked touched. “Thanks for coming, Izzy.”

“No problem.” She tilted her head. “You’re a redhead. It’s weird.”

Abby shrugged. “My natural color, if you’d believe it.”

Isabel hid her surprise. It was extremely rare getting tight-lipped Abby to reveal any details about herself. And this particular detail was an even bigger privilege. Isabel hadn’t had any idea what Abby’s true eye and hair color were. Abby had always been flippant about what she really looked like. Almost as if she wanted to forget the woman she’d been before coming to work for Noelle.

The man on the porch cleared his throat, drawing Isabel’s attention to his presence. “Sorry,” she said with a smile, sticking out her hand. “I didn’t properly introduce myself. I’m Isabel Roma.”

“Kane,” he said, leaning forward to take her hand.

His shake was firm, and the calluses on his palm told her he wasn’t a man who sat around in an office all day. So did his ridiculously toned body. She noticed Abby sneak a brief look in Kane’s direction, and resisted the urge to raise her eyebrows. Interesting.

“How much did Noelle tell you?” Abby asked.

“Everything.”

Kane eyed her warily. “And she thought you could help?”

“She said the rescue is in Colombia.” Isabel smiled again. “And I happen to have an incredibly solid cover in that part of the world.”

Kane didn’t answer for a moment. Instead, he studied her with those dark green eyes, his expression revealing exactly what he thought of her current appearance. “Okay,” he finally said. “Come on in, then. Morgan just got here. So did Trev, and he happens to have a pretty good cover himself.”

He turned and strode inside, leaving the two women alone on the porch.

“You really do look terrible,” Isabel said softly, sweeping her gaze over Abby’s purple eye and cut lip. “Did Blanco do that to you?”

“Devlin, his second in command,” Abby said. She offered a small shrug. “I’m fine, Izzy, seriously. You know me—no one can keep me down for long. All I want to do now is rescue those girls.”

Isabel tried not to frown. Noelle had warned her that
Abby was a little too intense about this plan of hers.
Obsessed
had been the word Noelle used. Isabel could figure out why. Over the years Abby had revealed a few details about her past, not many but enough for Isabel to deduce that she’d had it rough growing up. And no matter how tough she made herself out to be, Isabel knew that Abby was extremely fragile beneath the surface.

She wasn’t sure
fragile
and
Colombian sex trade
were a good combo. Noelle hadn’t been certain either, which was why she’d sent Isabel.

Shifting her duffel to her other shoulder, Isabel linked her arm through Abby’s and headed to the door. “He’s cute,” she murmured as they walked into the house.

“Who?”

Isabel rolled her eyes. “Kane. I saw the way you looked at him. You must be aware of his hotness, Abs. He’s sexy.”

“If you say so,” Abby said vaguely. She stopped in the massive front hall, shooting Isabel a suddenly amused look. “By the way, you don’t look too good yourself. How many bottles of hair spray did it take to get your hair like that?”

“Gosh, you’re funny. And here I thought you weren’t capable of making jokes.”

“I think there’d be something wrong with me if I
didn’t
joke about that hair. Seriously, it’s big.”

Isabel experienced a rare flicker of insecurity. “It’s not
that
big, is it?”

“It’s enormous.”

Great, and she was about to walk into a roomful of men who, judging by Kane’s appearance, were probably really hot.

The things she did for her surrogate sister.

Isabel Roma had the worst hairdresser on the planet. Not only that, but her sense of style left something to be desired, Kane thought uneasily as he snuck a look at the blonde sitting on their terrace. She wasn’t someone Kane would take a second or even third look at if he passed her on the street. Oh no. He’d look at her once, raise a brow at the hair, and dismiss her from his mind. He didn’t dismiss her now, though, because one, she’d been sent by Noelle, who still kind of terrified him, and two, Abby’s entire face had lit up in a joyful smile when Isabel Roma waltzed in.

What would it take, he wondered, for Abby to smile that way at him?

Probably quite a lot.

Pushing away his rueful thoughts, he glanced around the table, gauging everyone’s expressions. It was an interesting group. Abby, with her intense blue eyes. D, whose expression revealed that he wanted to be anywhere but there. Luke and Ethan, who simply looked curious. Morgan, who’d come back from reconnaissance at Blanco’s alone since Holden had gone home to his wife, all business as usual. And Isabel with that hair.

And Trevor, who looked absolutely ravaged.

Kane had been shocked when his old friend walked through the door. Trevor Callaghan was a different man from the one he remembered. The old Trevor had a buzz cut, a sharp sense of style, and a perpetual lopsided grin on his face. This Trevor looked… older. His hair had grown out, down to his collar. He wore a faded flannel shirt and pair of blue jeans with a hole in the knee. And sneakers on his feet. It was fucked up, seeing his friend dressed like a beach bum. Even more fucked was the
complete emptiness in Trev’s dark eyes. He was a man who didn’t give a damn anymore, and it worried the hell out of Kane. This was the guy they were sending on a hazardous undercover op?

Kane shifted his gaze back to the newcomer at the table. Again he found himself thinking,
this
was who they were sending in?

Isabel Roma looked like she’d walked straight out of a trailer park, with all that big blond hair teased to oblivion, the gaudy eye makeup, and the rhinestone-studded jacket. She was also a little chubby, her cheeks round, her upper body slightly… padded. He had no clue what to make of her, and he suspected the others weren’t sure either. At least the dog didn’t seem to have a problem with her appearance. Bear was lying by Isabel’s feet, gazing at her the way he gazed at those rawhide bones Luke lavished him with. No accounting for taste.

“Kane?”

He shot Morgan a quizzical look. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I wanted to know if you filled the guys in on the situation.”

“Yeah, I did.” He glanced at Luke, then Ethan. “You guys are still in?”

They both nodded. Luke offered a cocky grin, adding, “It sounds like fun.”

Kane didn’t bother asking D. He knew the man would come along, no matter how much he disliked it. Which he’d made exceptionally clear all afternoon.

“Okay, good. So,” Morgan said briskly, “Noelle”—he said her name as if it carried the plague—“is lending us Isabel for this assignment.” He focused on the blonde. “Tell me about the cover you’ve got in place.”

“I’m Paloma Dominguez, a Brazilian heiress.” Isabel leaned back in her chair. Kane was surprised that the weight of her hair didn’t tip her over. “I’m a jet-setter. I like rich men and yachts and I’m spoiled rotten. I’ve been using Paloma for about five years now. She’s a big hit in South America. European men love her too.”

“Izzy’s a chameleon,” Abby piped up, sounding oddly gentle. “She can transform herself into anyone.”

Kane gave Isabel another surreptitious once-over. He still couldn’t figure her out. She was very personable, with a throaty, easygoing voice and an approachable demeanor. But he simply couldn’t get past her appearance.

Neither could the others, apparently.

“Look.” Luke spoke up in his lazy drawl. He turned to Isabel, holding his hands up like he was surrendering to an enemy. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I can’t see how your presence would benefit this assignment. You’re… flashy. And, um,
frumpy…
”

It took all of Kane’s willpower not to burst out laughing. Luke, tactful as always.

“I don’t know how much you know about Luis Blanco,” Luke continued, “but the man isn’t impressed by chicks with flash. He goes for the fresh-faced, wide-eyed look. Not…” His voice drifted.

Isabel nodded knowingly. “Not the whore from the trailer park?”

Kane’s peripheral vision caught Abby biting her lip as if she was trying not to smile.

“Um, yeah,” Luke said awkwardly.

To Kane’s surprise, Isabel began to laugh. “You actually think I dress like this?” she asked Luke.

“Uh…”

“Didn’t you hear what Abby said? I’m a chameleon.”
She cocked her head, as if to toss her hair over her shoulder, but the blond monstrosity didn’t budge. Probably frozen in place with three cans of hair spray.

Kane was intrigued. Morgan had told him Noelle’s women had the ability to transform themselves in the blink of an eye, but still… How different could Isabel
really
look without the tacky getup?

“I just came from an assignment in Paris,” Isabel added. “My target happens to like trashy women. Trust me, boys, this is all for show.”

Luke cast Kane a look that revealed he couldn’t possibly fathom how the chubby face and plump body could be a “show.” Kane wasn’t quite sure either. Across the table, Abby seemed to be fighting another grin.

Seeing the lingering doubt, Isabel chuckled again before getting to her feet. “Jeez, you obviously have no faith in my ability to transform.”

“Izzy—” Abby began.

“Abs, these men aren’t going to take me seriously unless I show them I’m perfectly capable of socializing with a man like Blanco,” Isabel interrupted.

“Fine. Just make it fast.”

With a hint of a smile, Isabel shrugged out of the jacket and tossed it aside. Instantly her arms looked thinner. The jacket obviously had hidden shoulder pads sewn into it.

“Undercover operatives can’t survive if they don’t know how to alter their appearance,” Isabel explained. She shot Luke a pointed look. “As a former SEAL, you should know what I’m talking about. How many times did you have to disguise yourself when you were running around in the jungle or Afghanistan or whatever war zone you were assigned to?”

“A few,” he admitted. “Though to be fair, SEALs don’t do deep cover too often. Our job is to get in and out before anyone knows we were even there.”

“A disguise is a disguise, no matter how short a time you use it.” She stood at the head of the table, off to Morgan’s side, and pointed to the tight baby tee she’d been wearing under the jacket. The top showed off her midriff, and nobody could miss the slight roll of cellulite at her belly. “Certain clothes can help, but unless you’re willing to gain or lose thirty pounds for a gig you need to find ways around it. Makeup, for example.”

Isabel bent down and rummaged around in the duffel bag she’d brought outside. She stood up a second later with a tiny packet of tissues. She proceeded to wipe her stomach, then her cheeks and chin, and when she finished, Kane was startled to see a dramatic change. Her cheekbones suddenly seemed higher, her chin more defined, and her stomach was as flat as they came.

“Subtle makeup,” she continued, “designed to play with light and shadow, giving the impression of, say, cellulite.” She rolled up the hem of her shirt to show the strategic—and like she’d said, subtle—padding sewn beneath it, padding that altered not only the garment but also the figure of the person wearing it.

“Oh, and my hair isn’t this big, okay?” she said with an annoyed breath. To hammer the point home, she ran her fingers through the stiff beehive atop her head, finger-combed it for a few seconds, and suddenly her hair was cascading down her shoulders.

Kane was actually stunned speechless. The woman in front of them really had transformed. She was actually kind of beautiful, and he wasn’t the only one to notice. Luke was all but gaping, his eyes darkening with appreciation.
Ethan looked slightly amazed. D looked rattled. Morgan just seemed bored. And Trevor didn’t even blink.

“See, I’m a chameleon,” Isabel said with a pleased little smile before bending down to retrieve the jacket she’d carelessly dropped on the ground.