Whatever It Takes (7 page)

Too late, she realized what she’d said and slapped her hand over her mouth. Damn! Rudeness must come naturally to her. Maybe he hadn’t heard. She glanced at Nate.

A crooked grin and a cocked eyebrow stared back at her. “That’s really what you wanted to say to me?”

Alex shook her head, afraid to remove her hand from her mouth for fear something else unacceptable would spew out.

“Then maybe one of those apologies we talked about would be in order.” He averted his eyes and concentrated on the road.

Alex slowly removed her hand from her mouth. Apologies weren’t really her thing, but she freely admitted that this instance—­this man—­deserved one if anyone ever did.

“Yes. Yes, you’re right. That was rude and uncalled for, and I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I promised myself I’d be nicer to you . . . and then it just slipped out. I really am sorry.” She stopped for a breath and tensed when his hand closed over hers.

“Easy. Don’t go to pieces on me. It’s just a defense mechanism you fall back on when you get a little uncomfortable. What you haven’t fully comprehended yet is that you don’t have to defend yourself against me. I’m on your side, duty-­bound to do any and all defending required.” He squeezed her fingers and moved his hand back to the steering wheel. “Apology accepted.”

A moment of silence passed before a laugh rumbled from Nate. “You’re really going to be nicer to me?”

Alex closed her eyes for a second.
This just keeps getting better
. She gritted her teeth. “Don’t press your luck.”

Nate snorted, which turned into a full-­blown belly laugh that made her wonder why she thought she needed to treat him better in the first place. She faced away and watched the desert stream by her window until he tossed the owner’s manual in her lap without a word.

Before long, she’d learned how to turn on the refrigerator, light the gas stove, and operate the generator. The automatic levelers and slide-­outs were next on her list but that would have to wait as they were just coming into Nogales.

Alex studied the streets shadowed by dusk. Nogales was a border town, with all the crime, poverty, and sordid business establishments one would expect. She had to remind herself that the ­people were the same here as they were anywhere else. They had families, jobs, and struggled for their piece of the American dream—­even the ones beyond the border.

Nate pulled over into an empty lot that contained a few rusted cars. “I saw a KFC about a block back, or if you’re feeling adventurous, we could try that Mexican joint across the street.”

Alex looked where he pointed. Manuel’s Mexican was a small, well-­kept house with lights out front and a sign inviting ­people inside for the “best home cooking in Nogales.” Her stomach made a liar out of her by growling at the thought of food, and she sat forward, excited by the prospect of escaping the vehicle for a few minutes.

“You’d really come all the way to Nogales and eat at a fast-­food restaurant?” They both stood at the same time, and Alex brushed by him.

“Mexican it is.” He pushed in front of her and descended the steps first, sweeping his gaze up and down the street, and then turned to help her down. He leaned close to her when she stepped out of the RV. “We’re on,
Mrs.
Sanders.”

Alex had almost forgotten the role she’d be required to play, but she recovered quickly, wrapped her arm in his, and let him lead her across the street and into the restaurant.

It was delightfully clean and homey inside. The dining area was long and narrow. A half-­dozen tables were covered with pristine white tablecloths and set neatly with sturdy stainless steel and pretty stemware. The smell of spicy beef and enchilada sauce teased Alex’s senses. It wasn’t fancy, but obviously someone had taken great pains to make the room comfortable. The two tables closest to the door were occupied by other ­couples, and a man dined alone at the back of the room. Nate chose a table about halfway back, against the wall, where they could see the door.

He pulled out her chair and seated her. As he pushed her forward, he leaned over her shoulder and brushed a kiss beneath her ear. So unexpected was the warmth of his lips, the tingle of her skin where his breath lingered, and the explosion of heat through every nerve in her body, she would have bolted from her seat if he hadn’t caught her shoulders in a vise grip.

“Easy,
honey.
Did I startle you?” He glanced cautiously around the room and when his gaze came back to her, he gave a slight shake of his head. “Just wanted to kiss my darlin’
wife
before I go wash up. Will you be all right for a minute without me?” He kissed her neck again and then straightened, removing his hands from her shoulders.

Alex’s gaze searched his face, and the protectiveness staring back made her stomach do a somersault. Clearly, he was playing a role for the benefit of the other patrons. Doing a damn fine job too. If he could nearly convince her that he was the genuine article, surely the Nogales towns­people wouldn’t stand a chance.

Caught off guard, she inhaled a tremulous breath and willed her heartbeat to return to somewhere near normal. With slow deliberation, a soft smile curved her lips and her gaze swept over his torso. She traced the end of his belt with her thumb, then inserted her fingers inside the waistband of his jeans and tugged him a step closer. “I have plans for us this evening, so hurry back.”

Nate’s eyebrow cocked, the corner of his lip hitched upward, and a spark of curiosity ignited in his eyes. For a moment, he stood motionless, his mouth partway open. Then he huffed a laugh and leaned close. “I might just hold you to that.”

He straightened and glanced around. “Don’t go away. I’ll be right back.” He leaned toward her again. “Keep your eyes open,” he whispered right before he dropped a kiss on her cheek.

Nate walked toward the men’s room, and Alex was all too aware of the inquisitive stares from the women at the other tables as they followed his progress. Obviously, they thought he was desirable. And with his tall build and well-­muscled chest, arms, and thighs, he no doubt was. His flashing blue eyes and dark good looks didn’t hurt either. Nor did the crooked smile that seemed to say he was ready for anything that came his way.

Crap! Was it getting warm in here?

She reached for her water glass and stopped short. A breath caught in her throat. The man who’d been dining alone at the back of the restaurant stood at her elbow.

He smiled, revealing gleaming white teeth. Short black hair, brown eyes, and dark, weathered skin revealed his Latin American heritage, confirmed by his accent. “Welcome to Nogales, señora, and to Manuel’s Mexican Restaurant.”

Alex released her breath and forced a smile. “You’re Manuel, then?”

“I own this establishment, but I named it after my sister’s oldest boy—­my nephew.” He stepped closer to the table. “What brings you to our fine city?”

“My . . . husband and I are doing some fishing.” Alex glanced toward the men’s room, willing Nate to reappear.

“Ah,
bueno
. The lake is beautiful this time of year, and the largemouth bass are plentiful, but you should also see the vineyards while you’re here. And just across the border there are many small shops that cater to tourists looking for bargains. There is much history and architecture you would enjoy. I would be happy to offer my ser­vices as tour guide should you decide to have a look around.”

Did this guy get many takers with his creepy offer? Alex bit back her automatic response and searched for words that wouldn’t cause an international incident. “That’s nice of you, but we’ll only be here a few days, and as I said, my husband is excited about fishing.”

“Ah . . . but the beautiful lady is maybe not so excited.
Sí?
” He reached for the inside pocket of his jacket. “My card—­in case you change your mind.”

The way the man’s gaze raked over her made her skin crawl. She could spot a pervert a mile away, and this guy definitely had her checking to make sure her dagger was in its place at her belt. He didn’t know she wasn’t married—­had even addressed her as señora. She couldn’t decide if he was just stupid or if he had intentionally hit on her while her
husband
was in the washroom.

She reached for the business card, intending to hand it back to him, but at that moment, Nate reentered the room. From across the tables, she saw his features fall into a deep scowl and his jaw set in a hard line as he took in the man standing close beside her. He stalked toward them.

“Everything okay, honey?” Nate laid his hand possessively on her shoulder.

Alex stared in his eyes, hoping to communicate how uncomfortable the man made her. “This is our host. He owns this restaurant.” She would have introduced the stranger, but realized too late she didn’t know his name and hadn’t glanced at his card.

“Good evening, señor. I was just telling your wife of the many sites to be enjoyed in the area. I hope you will take some time from your fishing to explore.”

The tension in Nate’s face eased somewhat. “Maybe, if we have time. Thanks for the tip.”

The man turned to go, then swung back, his gaze boring into Nate’s. “A word to the wise, señor. It’s best not to leave things you cherish alone in Nogales.” He swept a glance boldly over Alex. “For example, if you value your wife, keep her close to you at all times.”

Nate’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and she could feel the rage rolling off him in waves. He drew himself to his full height and stepped around her chair.

Alex reached for his hand, stopping his advance, and smiled serenely at the man whose thinly veiled threat had just majorly pissed off her pretend-­husband. “No need to worry, señor. My husband is well aware I can take care of myself. Aren’t you, darling?” She calmly patted Nate’s hand, keeping her eyes on the stranger.

The man continued to glare at Nate for a few tense seconds. Finally, he threw his head back and laughed. “Just a harmless joke, my friends. Pay no attention to me. You are safe here in Nogales.”

A chill danced across Alex’s spine. What a lunatic. Spouting veiled threats and then trying to pass it off as a joke. He was probably too paranoid to be truly dangerous, but there was something about him that tweaked her internal alarm. She didn’t trust him.

A young Mexican waiter appeared at the table, filled their water glasses, and provided menus.

“Please, forgive my attempt at humor. Enjoy your meal.” The owner bowed his head as he backed away, turned, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Nate dropped into his chair. “Well, that was interesting. Can’t leave you alone for a minute,
honey
.” His teasing tone was in direct contrast to his rigid posture. “He’s a wildcard if I’ve ever seen one. If I knew who that was, I’d have Joe check him out.

She’d forgotten the man’s business card. Alex picked it up and handed it to Nate.

He glanced at the card and then frowned. “Did you see this?”

She shook her head. Everything had happened too fast.

“Diego Vasquez.”

Alex gasped. “The man holding Marco?”

“Yeah. What are the odds of walking into the same establishment our bad guy owns?”

“Should we call Joe?”

“Not until we get to the campground like he said. As far as Diego is concerned, we’re just tourists in the area to do a little fishing. He’s got no reason to connect us to Marco. If that changes in the future, we’ll deal with it then. The worst thing we could do is appear to be in a hurry to rush out of here.” Nate picked up his menu.

“The guy gives me the creeps.” Alex rubbed the skin of her bare arms to ward off the sudden chill.

“Why did he come over to you?”

She shrugged. “I thought he was hitting on me, but then he just got weird.”

Nate leaned back and studied her. His anger obviously still simmered, but she couldn’t be sure whom he was annoyed with. After a moment, he sat forward, smiled, and opened his menu.

“Well, our friend Diego has good taste. Let’s order.”

A flush of warmth crept from beneath her collar, and she slowly raised her menu until her smile was safely hidden.

Chapter 5

“M
ORE WINE?”
N
ATE
held the bottle poised over her glass. “Might as well finish what we started.”

Was he only talking about the wine, or was there a bolder suggestion in there somewhere? Alex leaned her elbows on the table and studied him. No crooked grin . . . no laughter . . . not even a smirk appeared to give away some hidden meaning. He seemed totally sincere. In any case, she was already feeling a buzz from the alcohol. She’d had enough for tonight.

“I’d better not. The rest is yours.”

Nate shook his head. “One’s my limit when I have to drive.” He upended the bottle and dumped the last of it into her glass.

“You’ve only had one? This is my third.” Alex narrowed her gaze at him. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Would I automatically be on your shit list if I admitted to that?” He sat back and crossed his arms.

“
Yes
. . . yes, you would . . . unless I was too hammered to care.”

“Maybe I better order another bottle then.” He raised a hand to signal the waiter, a look of serious concentration not quite covering his try-­to-­stop-­me grin.

She jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “Belay that, Detective.” Dissolving into laughter, she tipped her wineglass in salute, and amusement sparkled in his eyes.

Alex cleared her throat and forced herself to be serious. “Okay, where were we?” She placed a slender index finger along her cheek and tapped her temple. “Oh, right, you were telling me about Uncle Leo.”

Nate leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “What else do you want to know?”

“Mother’s or father’s side?”

“Neither.”

“Excuse me?
Uncle Leo
isn’t related to you? You almost got your ass kicked the other night, and Uncle Leo isn’t even related?”

Nate drummed his fingertips on the table and waited until she stopped talking. “If you’re finished now, I’ll explain.”

Alex sipped her wine and settled back against the contoured cushion of the chair.

“I was fifteen and headed for trouble. I found him sleeping under one of the bridges in Portland. It was February. He was soaking wet and cold, with a cough that practically turned him inside out. He was a gruff old codger, but something made me keep going back. At first, he wouldn’t have anything to do with me. On clear days, he’d pack up his few belongings and leave just so he wouldn’t have to listen to me talk. Lucky for me, we practically had a monsoon that month.” Nate laughed and mischief gleamed from his blue eyes.

“Little by little, he started to come around. I think I just wore him down until he was too sick and tired to run from me anymore. I got him dry clothes from Goodwill, a warm sleeping bag that my dad said we didn’t need anymore, and my mom, bless her heart, always fixed extra food. Whenever I could, I made sure he slept and ate at one of the shelters. But the cough kept getting worse.”

Alex’s heart swelled with pride and affection for the fifteen-­year-­old boy who’d had compassion enough to make the difference in the life of a stranger. Tears burned behind her eyes. He was trying to do the same thing for her.

Nate reached for her hand and sandwiched it between his two big paws. “Leo refused to go to a doctor. Said he didn’t trust ’em. But, one day I couldn’t wake him, and he was burning up with fever. My dad and I hauled him to the free clinic. Doctors said he wouldn’t have made it another day—­pneumonia. They sent him straight to the hospital, and I don’t think they expected him to make it.”

“Thank goodness you were there.” Alex let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Yeah, well, when Uncle Leo woke up in that hospital, I thought he’d come off of that bed and strangle me right there.” Laughter rumbled easily from him as he shook his head. “He was in for two weeks, and I bet it was every bit of that before he finally forgave me and admitted it might have been a smart thing to take him there.”

Alex rubbed a finger across the rim of her wineglass. “You
are
a little pushy about certain things.” She gazed at him from beneath lowered lashes, but couldn’t help smiling when his eyes narrowed. “How did he go from broke, sick, and homeless to living in that gorgeous mansion?”

“In hindsight, I guess I should have asked that question. After he got back on his feet, I lost track of him for a ­couple years. Figured he found another bridge in some other city, but I’d check out all of his old favorites once in a while anyway. And one day . . . there he was. I almost didn’t recognize him.” Nate grinned. “All spiffed up like the dandies he used to rail against.”

He let go of her hand and gripped his wine glass, downing the last swallow. “He took me out to his house, gave me the tour, and then gave me a key. Said I was welcome anytime. I was probably the closest thing that old man had to family, but I figured if he wanted me to know where the money came from, he’d tell me. As the years went by, it didn’t seem to matter anymore.”

“He was lucky to have you.”

“That worked both ways.” Nate looked away for a second, but not before Alex saw the hint of sorrow in his eyes.

When had he become so easy to talk to? She could even give him a hard time and not feel anxious about how he might react. How strange to be so completely comfortable with him. No fear or distrust remained for Detective Nate Sanders . . . at least for the moment. It must have snuck in unexpectedly about the same time their main course arrived. Their conversation had begun with Ty and the years the two men had worked together. Then they’d changed gears to Nate’s childhood, growing up in the Willamette Valley. He’d given her carte blanche with topics, so she’d been able to stay away from
her
history . . . or lack of one. Yet he’d answered every question she’d presented.

His openness in sharing his life with her had forged a connection from which respect had grown. Maybe it was the wine, and she would wake up tomorrow just as paranoid and filled with distrust as she had always been. She hoped not, because she liked Nate . . . a lot. Maybe too much.

They’d started out pretending they were married, but sometime during the evening, the pretense had dropped away, at least on her part, and they became just two ­people getting to know each other. His hand brushing hers . . . his eyes overflowing with curiosity and laughter filled her near to bursting with some emotion she couldn’t name. For the first time in her life, she wanted more.

T
HERE WERE CERTAIN
things a guy didn’t do. He didn’t sleep with his best friend’s sister. He didn’t take just any girl home to his mother, and he didn’t get involved with his partner. For the time being, Alex Morgan was his partner, and the fact that Nate couldn’t get her shapely form and sultry smile out of his head was disconcerting to say the least.

“White or red?” Alex stood in front of the wine section of the small market they’d found on their way out of town after leaving the restaurant. She glanced over her shoulder.

“Huh? What?” Nate was far more interested in how her enticing ass filled out her jeans than in what she’d just said. Unfortunately, the exasperated pout of her lips and the way she wagged her head from side to side as she jammed her hands on her hips was a dead giveaway that she’d seen him ogling her.

Instead of grumping at him, however, she smiled patiently, her gold-­flecked eyes studying him with languid enjoyment, and his persistent hard-­on twitched in response.

“Pay attention, Nate. We’re almost done. White or red wine?”

He groaned. He was beginning to enjoy playing house with this woman a little too much, and she wasn’t making it any easier to turn away. On the contrary, Alex had been a pleasure to have dinner with, an intelligent and stimulating conversationalist. It had stroked his ego to see her so interested in what he had to say, and he’d enjoyed their verbal sparring. He’d let her lead the conversation even though he’d been dying to learn about her. Maybe she would never talk to him about her past. Maybe to her, this was just a scene from a play.

A growl reverberated through him, and he stepped up behind her, locked his arms around her waist, and buried his face in her neck. “I don’t care. You pick. Or get one of each.”

Alex leaned her head back against his chest. “Okay, but this will go faster if you actually help.”

“I am helping.” Nate trailed a line of kisses up her neck until his lips found her ear, and she trembled in his arms. She was so damn sexy, and she didn’t even realize it, which made her all the more desirable.

Another growl started low in his throat. What the hell was he doing? She was only acting—­playing a role. That’s what they were both supposed to be doing. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment when he stopped pretending, but it was probably around the time Diego had threatened her, and she’d reacted with a serene indifference. Nate had been furious, fully intending to rip the guy’s head off, and all because Diego had been stupid enough to threaten Alex—­his Alex.

That kind of thinking was bound to get him in trouble. He released her as she grabbed a bottle of Riesling and a Merlot and set them in their cart.

She placed a hand on his arm like a dutiful wife. “We’ve got coffee, bacon and eggs for breakfast, bread and lunchmeat for sandwiches, chips, fruit, hot dogs and buns, frozen pizza. What else do we need?”

Nate thought for a second. “Beer. Bottled water. Mustard . . . and cookies.”

The sparkle in her eyes teased him.

“What? I
like
cookies. I also need some fishing line and bait.”

“Do you think we could get some marshmallows?” Alex averted her eyes.

The last word was spoken so softly, Nate almost didn’t catch it. “Marshmallows?” He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Laugh if you must, but I’ve never had marshmallows before. They go with camping, right?”

Sometimes he forgot she’d been denied a childhood. She’d missed so many things he’d taken for granted. The undeniable urge to give some of them back to her overwhelmed him. “Okay, we’re getting marshmallows . . . but the marshmallow experience isn’t complete without s’mores, so we also need graham crackers and chocolate bars.”

Her brown eyes sparkled with an enthusiastic smile that transformed her face and tugged at something deep within him.

They rounded up the rest of the items they needed, paid for them, and carried four large bags of supplies to the motor home. It was nearly eight o’clock, and Nate wasn’t looking forward to the fifteen miles they’d have to drive to reach Patagonia Lake. He consoled himself with the knowledge that after they parked in a camping spot, they could defer their setup until morning if they chose and just fall into bed. Or maybe they would have another glass of wine and finish their talk. Yeah, that sounded good.

Once they were on the road, Nate dialed Joe’s number and relayed their current position. “Alex and I had dinner at a place called Manuel’s. You’ll never guess who owns it—­Diego Vasquez.”

The rumble of the Jeep was background for Joe’s voice. “Well, well. Small world. Did he see you?”

“I’m afraid so. Alex made quite an impression on him. I think he threatened to take her off my hands if he got the chance.” Nate winked at Alex when she frowned.

“Yeah? I’m not surprised. Everybody loves Alex. Do you think he made you?”

“I don’t see how he could have.”

“Maybe we can work his fascination with Alex to our advantage. I’ll know more tomorrow.”

Nate’s gut swirled with dread at the prospect of using Alex as bait. Joe knew her capabilities better than he did, but still, dangling her in front of that creep didn’t sit well.

“You and Jim have any problems?” Nate flipped on his blinker and made a right-­hand turn onto a narrow, paved road that immediately changed to ruts and potholes. A sign announcing Patagonia Lake shimmered as the headlights swept across it.

“Nope. Not a hitch. We crossed the border about an hour ago and had a look around. Now we’re heading for my friend’s place. I’ll call tomorrow after I contact Diego.” Joe paused for a second. “Nate, keep an eye on her.”

Nate swore under his breath when the motor home hit a bad rut and nearly jerked the steering wheel from his hand. “Will do.” He ended the call and dropped the cell phone in his shirt pocket, gripping the wheel with both hands.

The road to the lake was rough and deserted. In the dark, it took all of his concentration to keep the RV out of the yawning craters that lined their route. As though the constant jostling wasn’t enough to occupy his attention, he couldn’t get his mind off Joe’s comment and the absurd idea of using Alex to get to Diego.

The depths of his dark mood became apparent when one of the wheels of the motor home dropped to its driveline in a hole and a stream of vicious four-­letter words flew from his mouth. He stepped on the gas and the lumbering coach righted itself and kept going. When he turned toward Alex to apologize, she nodded somberly and looked quickly away.

Nate stopped at the kiosk leading into the park and paid in advance for three nights, then picked a secluded spot within sight of the lake, but far removed from the store and marina. As he turned to get out of his seat, he caught a troubled glance from Alex. She hastily averted her gaze, but she wasn’t quick enough to hide her apprehension, and he puzzled over the possible cause. He’d been withdrawn on the drive out here, tired and intent on keeping them from breaking an axle. Smart lady that she was, it was hard to believe that would cause her any concern. Was there something else going on in her head?

They’d both been quiet since he talked to Joe. Maybe she’d picked up on his frustration with Joe’s plan. He’d been right not to mention it to her. Chances were, nothing would come of it, and there was no sense in worrying her needlessly.

As soon as they were settled, he’d find out what he’d done to bring about this change in her . . . and change it back. He wanted the Alex who argued, and laughed, and pressed into his kiss. Now that they were alone, they could drop the act, but that wasn’t his first choice. A split second of self-­reproach slid across his consciousness before he pushed it away.