Texas…Now and Forever (12 page)

“Del Brio wasn't happy when I said he wouldn't get his money until we received proof Lena was still alive. He said he'd send one of her fingers.”

Haley gave a small, strangled sound. Teresa's was louder and sharper.

“Ayyyy!” Her face contorting, the housekeeper made the sign of the cross three times in rapid succession. “That poor little baby!”

“He was bluffing.”

“How do you know that?” Fury broke through Haley's incipient panic. “How can you know that?”

“I know.”

“That's not good enough, damn you! If Frank harms my daughter, I'll never forgive you.”

“She's my daughter, too,” Luke fired back, gripped by the savage need to hunt Del Brio down and skin him alive. “Do you think I'd deliberately goad someone into mutilating my child?”

“How do I know what you'd do? We've spent exactly one night together in over a decade!”

“Two, if you count last night.”

“Well, I don't! I mean, last night wasn't— We didn't— Oh, hell!” The air escaped from her lungs like a deflating balloon. “Do you really think Lena will be all right?”

“Yes, I do. I also think we can expect Frank to deliver something within the next few hours. You guys get back to work while I make a quick call.”

 

Luke joined Flynt in the den he'd converted to a modern, functional office. Fitted with flat workspaces and ample storage cabinets, it contained an array of computer and electronic wizardry that would have made Bill Gates drool. The gadget at
tached to the phone was the one that had caught Flynt's attention.

“What's this small flat disc?”

“It's a scrambler. Ordinarily it would be buried within the instrument itself, but I'm testing a new system for some folks in Washington.”

“I though you were finished with that business.”

“I am, pretty much.”

“After getting blown all to hell and back, you should damned well cut the tie completely.”

“You never cut the tie completely.”

Not with OP-12, anyway. Even a blind operative had his uses. Particularly one with Luke's years of experience.

Flynt grumbled under his breath, clearly not happy. He and Spence still hadn't quite forgiven Luke for never once clueing them in about his years with OP-12. Tyler came closer to understanding. He'd left the marines to freelance, assuming a sort of quasi-official status with the covert military agency he worked for. Still, even Tyler had been stunned when he'd learned his playboy pal Luke Callaghan had spearheaded an ultrasecret, multinational thrust deep in the Mezcayan jungle to rescue their old commander, Colonel Phillip Westin.

After the rescue attempt went bad and Luke lost
his sight, Tyler had stepped in—but not before ripping a strip a mile wide off his friend for keeping his three buddies in the dark all these years.

Well, those years lay behind Luke now. His only contribution to OP-12 these days was to test equipment and, when requested, to offer operational advice. He hadn't lost his clout in the organization, though. After verification of his identity by code and by voice recognition, he was put right through to the acoustics branch.

“I need a full analysis run on the call just received at this number,” he told the branch chief.

“You got it,” the woman at the other end of the line replied.

“I want it quick.”

“How quick?” she asked warily.

“Like yesterday.”

The cheerful mother of three with double Ph.D.s in mechanical and audio engineering laughed. “So what else is new? I'll get back to you within an hour.”

The branch chief had been with OP-12 almost as long as Luke had. From past experience, he knew she was as good as her word.

That task done, he ran a hand along the work surface until he located the recorder hooked up to the phone. Frowning, he ejected the CD Rewritable disc and hefted it in the palm of his hand. The
conversation burned onto it was already etched into his mind.

“Did you catch that bit about Haley still belonging to Del Brio?” he asked Flynt.

“Yeah, I did. I also noticed that he still refers to himself as her fiancé.” The rancher let a couple of seconds tick by. “Are you thinking maybe ole Frank is more interested in getting his hands on Haley Mercado than on the ransom?”

“That's exactly what I'm thinking.”

S
pence agreed with Flynt and Luke's assessment. So did Tyler when he returned from his trip to Fort Hood a half hour later and listened to the recorded call. His face thoughtful, he strolled back into the kitchen, which had become their unofficial command center, and addressed the small group.

“Well, this certainly alters our approach. Sounds like we need to plan for a possible snatch and run, not just a recovery operation.”

His glance drifted to Haley. She sat at the table working her bundles of hundreds, but the call from Frank had shaken her so much that she couldn't regain the smooth rhythm she'd established previously.

Was Luke right? Was Frank more interested in getting his hands on her than on the ransom? The possibility made her physically ill, but she'd give herself to Del Brio in a heartbeat in exchange for Lena's safety.

“Actually, a snatch and run makes things simpler,” Tyler mused. “I was worried Del Brio
would send someone else to pick up the ransom. From the drift of that call, I'm betting he'll insist Haley deliver the ransom to him personally.”

“In which case,” Luke put in, his face granite-hard, “he'll have to use the baby as enticement to make sure she shows.”

“Exactly.” Tyler's brown eyes locked on Haley. “You were right. Looks like you're going to be out there on point, after all. Sure you're up to it?”

“I've been ‘out there' for over a year,” she reminded him. “I'm up to it.”

Admiration flickered across his tanned face. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

Luke didn't miss the subtle change in the tenor of the conversation. Nor the way his friends were now responding to Haley. Like him, they'd greeted the news of her return to the realm of the living with stunned disbelief, confusion and a healthy jolt of anger. Luke wasn't the only one who'd carried a load of guilt around all these years.

And like Luke, the three men had swiftly worked past their anger. They now understood the reason for her desperate flight. They were beginning to understand, too, the incredible courage it took for her to return to Mission Creek to go undercover as Daisy Parker.

She had that in spades, Luke admitted silently.
Courage, smarts and a sensuality that acted on him like a cattle prod every time he got within touching distance of her. He'd just about lost it earlier this afternoon in the den. One kiss, and he'd been ready to stretch her out on the floor. Hell, just thinking about the feel of her mouth under his had him itching to tell his buddies to hit the road.

“How did you make out up at Fort Hood?” he asked Tyler, forcing himself to concentrate on the matter at hand.

“Like a kid in a candy shop! Man, you wouldn't believe the toys those guys are playing with up there. I sure as hell wouldn't want to get on the bad side of the United States military these days.”

“I don't think anyone else does, either,” Flynt put in. “Our guys have sure kicked ass recently.”

“Particularly the Fourteenth Marines,” Spence added with savage satisfaction.

For a moment the four friends shared a tight, fierce loyalty to their former unit. Only those who'd experienced combat could understand the almost indestructible bond it forged between comrades-in-arms.

Almost indestructible. The fact that one of their group was missing still gnawed at Luke. Where the hell was Ricky? He had to know by now Frank suspected his sister was still alive. Had to guess Del Brio had kidnapped her baby to lure her out
of hiding. Had he been secretly involved in the shoot-out three nights ago, when Del Brio slipped through the FBI net? Was he, too, on the run?

Tyler broke into his troubled thoughts. “You and I should go down to the lake, buddy. We need to test this little hummer. Make sure it works as advertised.”

“Right.” Turning toward the woman whose scent and warmth now acted like a beacon in the shadows, Luke offered what reassurance he could. “I'll take the phone with me. If Del Brio calls, let me handle him. He knows he can use your worry for Lena to twist you into knots.”

“Do you think we'll hear from him soon?”

The best he could do was a shrug. “As he said, he's holding most of the cards right now. We'll hear from him when he's ready.”

 

The next contact from Frank didn't come until ten-fifteen that night.

Spence, Flynt and Tyler had left some hours earlier. They'd offered to stay, but the bills were marked, the serial numbers scanned, and Luke had been thoroughly checked out on the wristwatch-size phased-array radar that gave him a startlingly accurate return signature.

He'd also received the promised return call from OP-12. Acoustics had run every analysis in the
book, but could provide only limited information. The call was made at a pay phone located within a half mile of a major highway. Semis had roared by in the distance. The acoustics wizards had also detected the sound of a tractor, which narrowed the area some, given that this was primarily range country.

Luke contacted the FBI and passed the information to Sean Collins, along with a scathing rebuke for not reading him on Daisy Parker's identity. Doggedly unapologetic, Collins agreed with Luke's insistence that they share all information from here on out.

“Sheriff Wainwright's here with me,” the agent informed Luke. “He's offered the entire resources of his department to help.”

“Tell Justin I appreciate the offer,” Luke said sincerely. He hated having to cut out the man who'd risked his life, alongside his wife, in the abortive attempt to rescue Lena. But Del Brio had been adamant. So had Haley. This was their operation now, hers and Luke's.

Haley listened to the exchange in silence and resumed the pacing she'd begun earlier this afternoon. Luke finally convinced her to go upstairs and indulge in a long, hot soak.

Twenty minutes later the computer in his office pinged, announcing the arrival of an e-mail.

Counting his steps in the way that had become second nature to him now, Luke navigated the short distance to his office. A quick click with the mouse took him to his e-mail program. Another click activated the speech component. An instant later Del Brio's voice leapt out at him.

“You wanted proof, Callaghan. Here it is.”

A series of soft pings indicated that the computer was downloading an image. Eyes narrowed, Luke strained every nerve in his body in an effort to make out the picture on the screen. All he could distinguish was a hazy blur of dark on light.

Swearing viciously, he sat staring at the screen. He'd never regretted the loss of his vision more than he did at this moment. He couldn't see his own child. Didn't know whether she was laughing or crying or lying in a pool of blood.

His spine locked, shoulders roped with tension, he waited for Haley to come downstairs. He heard her flip-flopping down the hall some fifteen minutes later.

“I raided your closet for some slippers and one of your shirts. I hope you don't mind.”

Consumed with the need to know what was on the screen, Luke barely registered the faint combination of starched cotton and lemony shampoo that came into the office with her.

“I didn't hear the phone ring.”

“Del Brio chose another communication medium this time. I've been waiting for you to look at this.”

Slippers flopping, she rushed forward and bent over his shoulder. Luke could feel her body tremble where it contacted his, and the kink in his gut took another vicious twist. He hated not being able to prepare Haley for what she might see on the screen.

“Dear God, that's Lena!”

She'd never know how much it took to keep his voice level and calm. “How does she look?”

“Happy. Oh, Luke, she looks happy.” Giddy with relief, she drummed a fist on his shoulder. “She's clutching a fluffy stuffed rabbit and she's laughing at the camera.”

Some of the tension holding Luke in a rigid brace seeped out of his spine. He relaxed, leaning back in his chair. The slight movement brought the back of his head in direct contact with the warm, soft swell of Haley's breasts. With a vicious effort, he blanked his mind to the sensations that raced through him.

“Describe the background details. What do you see in the image besides Lena?”

“She's sitting on the floor in front of a TV. It looks like there's some kind of a news show on. CNN's ‘Headline News,' I think. Yes, it's ‘Head
line News.' I can see the banner at the bottom of the screen.”

“Does it show a time and date?”

“Yes. Today's date. The time is…”

She leaned closer to the screen. Luke felt himself begin to sweat.

“The time is seven thirty-six. Only a little over three hours ago!”

“Computer images are easy to doctor,” he cautioned, hating to douse the joy and relief in her voice. “I doubt if this one was, since Frank knows we'll check it out. Still, it won't hurt to have a few experts take a look at it.”

“No, it won't. Just print me a copy, will you?”

While his high-tech laser color printer whirred, Luke composed a brief message to a nameless, faceless entity in a building outside McLean, Virginia, and hit the send key. Next, he tapped out a quick e-mail to Special Agent Sean Collins at the FBI command center. Extracting the printed copy of the photo, he swung his chair around. She chose the same moment to lean across him and reach for the photo herself.

Luke's shoulder caught her square in her ribs. Off balance, she stumbled sideways and would have fallen if Luke hadn't grabbed for her. One hand contacted starched cotton. The other, bare skin. With an adroit maneuver he managed to con
vert her fall into an awkward tumble that brought her into his lap. She landed with a little plop and a shaky laugh.

“Good catch, Callaghan. Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

He fully intended to remove his hand from her bare thigh. In a minute. Curling his palm around the smooth flesh, he held her balanced on his knees.

“Sorry about the body block. I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“No, you didn't.”

Luke half expected her to wiggle off his lap. She had to feel the heat she was raising in him. Hell, his hand burned like a brand where it wrapped around the silk of her inner thigh. Drawn by the fire, he slid his palm up another inch or so.

She made a queer little breathy sound, louder than a sigh, softer than a gasp. “Luke?”

His hand stilled. “Yes?”

“About that kiss in the living room this afternoon…”

“What about it?”

“I didn't plan it.”

“I know. I wasn't planning on this one, either.”

He managed to find her lips with only minimal bumping of chins and noses. Her head tipped back to improve the contact, bunching her still-wet hair
against his shoulder. Luke registered the dampness through his shirt for a moment or two before her mouth opened under his. With a grunt of sheer male satisfaction, he shifted her higher on his lap.

The small movement tipped Haley's soaring emotions over the edge. She was ecstatic at seeing evidence her baby was happy. Overwhelmed by all Luke was doing to help rescue Lena. If she hadn't ached for him before, the feelings he roused in her now would have done the trick.

Joy swiftly became hunger. Relief crashed into need. Want left her mindless of the oversize shirt falling off her shoulders. Her mouth turned greedy, her hands even more so as she slid her palms over his chest and shoulders.

Luke's greed matched hers. She could feel him straining against her, under her. Taking full advantage of the now widely gaping shirt, he found her breast. The calloused pads of his palm raised shivery sensations against her skin. Within moments his busy fingers had brought her nipple to an aching peak.

“I've carried a picture of you in my head since that night at the Saddlebag,” he muttered, hitching her up another few inches. “I remember your mouth soft and swollen from my kisses. Your nipples dusky red and stiff.”

“You'd better hang on to that mental image,”
she said on a shaky laugh. “I've aged a bit since then. I've also had a baby. I have the stretch marks to prove it.”

“Do you? Where? Here?”

His hand slid down, charting a path past the starched folds of the shirt. Haley's stomach quivered at the exploratory touch. She wasn't wearing panties. She'd washed out the pair she'd had on when she'd rushed out to find Luke. They were upstairs, draped over the shower rod in the guest bathroom alongside her bra.

Luke obviously approved of the omission. After only a stroke or two, he abandoned his search for stretch marks and found the heat between her legs. The heel of his hand exerted an exquisite pressure on her mound, while his thrusting fingers nearly carried her to climax. Embarrassed, Haley clenched her legs and tried frantically to stem the tidal wave of sensations.

“Luke, wait! It's been two years!”

She hadn't intended to provide that particular item of information. It just slipped out, along with every bit of breath in her lungs as he deliberately, wickedly increased the pressure.

“Are you saying you're too out of practice?” he asked, nipping at her neck.

“No. I'm saying I'm too ready.”

Laughter puffed against her throat. “Oh, sweet
heart, that's the last thing you should tell a man when you want him to stop.”

“Who said I want you to stop?”

Wriggling like a stranded fish, Haley twisted around and straddled his thighs. They were face-to-face now. Breath-to-breath.

“What I want,” she informed him, yanking at his belt buckle, “is to feel you inside me.”

His breath snagged. His belly hollowed. With a growl he shoved aside her fumbling hands and freed himself from his jeans. She was wet when he lifted her hips, and ready, so ready, when he entered her in a smooth, sure thrust.

 

They made wild, greedy love in his office before moving to Luke's king-size bed for a slower, more deliberate joining. He positioned the phone on the nightstand within easy reach in case Frank called, then took Haley to magical places, where she almost—almost—forgot Del Brio altogether.