Terms of Attraction
Kylie Brant

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Copyright

About the Author

KYLIE BRANT is a bestselling, award-winning author of twenty-five novels. When she’s not dreaming up stories of romance and suspense, she works as a teacher for learning-disabled children.

Kylie invites readers to check out her website at www.kyliebrant.com for news, backlist and information about upcoming releases. She can be contacted by e-mail at kyliebrant@hotmail.com.

For Keaden, my newest grandson,

who already owns a piece of my heart.

Acknowledgements

As always, a huge thank-you to Kyle Hiller, Captain, Special Response Team, for your generous assistance. I’m awed by both your knowledge and your dedication to duty!

Chapter One

Ava Carter lay motionless atop the gravel and tar flat roof squinting through the Nightforce scope of the Remington 700 rifle. She’d been in position for nearly four hours; under a “weapons tight” command for two. If all went according to plan, the subject would be on his way—in one piece—in less than fifteen minutes.

The rheumy late February sun labored to pierce the light cloud cover, and there was small blessing in that. Temperatures still hovered in the high sixties. And even without direct sunlight she could feel a thin trickle of perspiration snaking down her back beneath the LBV vest.

The breeze kissing her cheek seemed to have gotten a little stronger. “Check the wind meter again.”

Her spotter, Steve Banes, held up the pocket calibrator. “Six point two four miles per hour.”

Ava adjusted the dope of her rifle slightly. Steve picked up his high-powered binoculars again and spoke into the Motorola radio. “Side three, opening three. No movement.”

She reached for her own set of binoculars. Through them she could clearly see the black RV that served as the SWAT command center parked a hundred yards from the civic center. She could make out the figure of a man through one of the windows, hunched over a computer.

Her gaze passed over the RV to scan the area. She and Steve were positioned on top of a building across the road about eight hundred yards from the civic center. The building they were observing was circular, with an oddly pitched roof that was supposed to enhance the acoustics inside. Beneath the overhang were narrow windows encircling the building.

The inner perimeter seemed secure. The interested public was still inside listening to Antonio de la Reyes. But it was his detractors that were cause for concern.

From this angle she could only see a corner of the group of protesters and media vans secured behind the outer perimeter in front of the civic center. There were still a few signs waving, but a majority of the picketers had wisely decided to save their strength for when de la Reyes made his exit.

Hopefully once they figured out he wasn’t coming out the front, de la Reyes would be on his way to the airport. Out of Metro City. Out of California and back to his small South American country of San Baltes.

Good riddance.

It wasn’t his politics Ava objected to, though his eloquent arguments for opening the borders of America didn’t resonate for her. It was the target he presented. In the last week alone, as he’d traveled the country, he’d received almost a dozen death threats. Pretty unpopular for a visiting dignitary. She’d heard there was a small rebel contingent in his own country that was just as anxious to see him dead.

She was only anxious to see him gone.

“What’s he even doing here?” grumbled Banes. He was a large man, heavily muscled. His shaved head was the color of her morning double mocha latte and glistened with sweat.

“He has relatives here, I think I heard. His mother lived in Metro City until the seventies.”

Banes’s droopy dark mustache twitched in what might have been a smirk. “Like you’d remember anything about the seventies.”

“Just enough to know seventy-seven was a very good year.” Ava continued to scan the area. They’d had this conversation often enough in the past that she could participate without thinking. Banes had a good fifteen years on her, and he liked to rib her about his experience. He’d been on SWAT ten years longer than she had. He was a damn good marksman, ranking second in the Metro City PD, fourth in the state.

Ava ranked first in both.

“Have you ever been inside?”

She nodded. “Took my son to a concert there once. It’s pretty nice. All the seats have a good view of the stage.” It must have been about three years ago, when Alex was twelve, before he became afflicted with that weird teenage parental anathema. At fifteen he could barely be convinced to be seen with her at the mall.

The radio crackled. “De la Reyes has left the stage. Subject will be exiting from side three, opening one in the next two minutes.”

Ava kept the binoculars raised. De la Reyes’s white limo approached slowly and rolled to a stop by the curb. It would have been checked thoroughly before being allowed through the inner perimeter. Security inside the building would be directing the public out the front. Officers would keep the people from circling around to the back entrance. Everything was working according to plan.

She was about to lower the binoculars when something caught her eye. A glint in one of the civic center’s upper windows. In the next instant it had disappeared. “Do you see anything up there?”

Banes trained his binoculars in the area she was pointing to. “Nope.”

“Must have been the sun,” she muttered. But there was very little sunlight today. Which made it more likely she’d seen a reflection of some sort. But of what?

“Wait.” She and Banes spoke simultaneously. She went on. “You see it, too, right? What is that?”

Both of them stared for long moments through their binoculars. A chill broke out over Ava’s skin as comprehension slammed into her. “It’s a scope.”

Banes grabbed the radio. “We’ve got a reflection in side three, window seven. Looks like it could be from a rifle scope.”

“Cold Shot in position?” came the answer.

“Affirmative.”

“Weapons tight. We’ll send someone inside to check it out.”

Ava set down the binoculars and peered through the Night-force scope of her Remington. She made the minute adjustments necessary to focus on the window in question. “I see the barrel,” she reported quietly. A familiar deadly calm settled over her. “Can you get another angle and make it out?”

Steve belly-crawled several yards away and took another look through the binoculars. As an answer, he spoke through the radio. “We’ve got a weapon sighted and verified. Side three, window seven.”

The radio crackled. “Keep target inside. We’ve got a sighting.”

She heard the voice as if from a distance. Ava’s entire system had slowed. Breathing. Nerves. Heart rate. Everything was focused on the individual on the other end of that rifle across the road. The best shot would be to shoot perpendicular from the window. But she didn’t have time to change position. Shooting at an angle meant firing two shots. The first to break the glass and the second to hit the target.

“What the hell?” muttered Banes as the back door entrance opened. Ava recognized de la Reyes surrounded by his private contingent of security and three tactical officers hurrying toward the steps.

“Weapons loose. Engage, engage.”

She was dimly aware of the group surrounding de la Reyes halting. Retreating toward the civic center. Her finger squeezed the trigger and fired twice in quick succession through the target window. Nearly simultaneously an answering shot sounded and one of the bodies on the steps crumpled.

Ava gave her watch a surreptitious look and sighed mentally. If this was going to drag on much longer she’d need to excuse herself and text Alex. He’d be getting out of basketball practice soon and might need to catch a different ride home.

The debriefing was going more slowly than usual. But then nothing about this incident had proven normal yet.

The door to the conference room opened and Chief of Police Carl Sanders entered, flanked by his deputy chief, Robert Grey. They were followed by Antonio de la Reyes and a few men she remembered from his security contingent.

There was a scraping of chairs as a few of the SWAT officers made room at the long table. Ava sat still as the newcomers stared her way, feeling like an insect on a pin.

“There she is, gentlemen. The officer of the hour.”

There was little doubt about whom Sanders was referring to. Ava was the only woman in the room. Without looking away from her, de la Reyes circled the table to come to a halt before her.

“Ms. Carter,” he said in melodic fluent English. “I am in your debt.”

Since he’d taken her hand and looked to be in no hurry to free it, Ava rose, ill at ease. “I’m glad it worked out.”

He looked more like a movie star than a politician. He was no taller than she, about five nine, with glossy dark hair and soulful brown eyes. But she recognized the tailor-fitted suit he wore and the designer shoes. His country’s impoverishment didn’t extend to this man.

“It worked out, as you say, for all but your fellow officer.” Finally de la Reyes released her hand and glanced back at Sanders. “But I am told the man is well.”

Sanders nodded, his craggy face grim. “Sergeant Talbot was saved by his vest. He’ll be sore for a few days, but he’s already been released from the hospital.”

There was a collective murmur of relief from the room’s occupants.

De la Reyes went to sit in a nearby free chair and Ava sank into her own with a sense of reprieve. She’d never learned to enjoy the spotlight.

Sanders pulled out a chair. “The would-be assassin has been identified.”

“His name is Pedro Cabrerra.” Ava recognized the man passing out sheets as head of the American company providing de la Reyes security while in the country. He was the sort of man who left an impression.

A shade under six feet, he had a commanding presence, even in a roomful of cops. His streaked blond hair bordered on shaggy, his pale green gaze hawklike. His face was tanned as a surfer’s and his body looked broad and rock hewn beneath his suit. Unlike de la Reyes, whose expensive clothes gilded his sophisticated appearance, this man’s suit only served to highlight what he was beneath it. A warrior. No amount of gloss or polish could ever mask his rough edges.

“I am sorry.” De la Reyes lifted a hand to indicate the man passing out Cabrerra’s likeness. “Cael McCabe. He owns the security company I hired shortly before I came to the States.”

McCabe was the only one to remain standing. And he didn’t so much pace the room as prowl. “Cabrerra was a trusted member of Senor de la Reyes’s private security detail who traveled with him from San Baltes.”

“He is…was,” de la Reyes corrected himself, “my first cousin. Our fathers are brothers.”

Ava saw the grief in the man’s eyes and felt a moment of sympathy. Bad enough for complete strangers to want you dead. But when your own family went gunning for you…that transcended politics. It didn’t get any more personal.

“Cabrerra was part of the security contingent to go through the civic center prior to Antonio’s appearance there.”

“But how the hell did he smuggle in a weapon?” Chief Sanders demanded. “Rifle, scope, tripod…he didn’t carry all that equipment in when he was helping with the security sweep.”

“He probably went in the night before,” McCabe responded. There was the slightest hint of Georgia in his voice. He might have lost the drawl, but the rounded vowels gave him away. “The windows aren’t wired to the alarm system. No reason to be. They’re too narrow for a person to enter through. He must have rappelled up the side of the building with the equipment in a bag over his shoulder. We found a window with the lock drilled out. All he had to do then was open the window, drop the bag inside and close it again. He just had to make sure he was first in the building the next morning so he could choose the section he was going to ‘secure.’ Stash the equipment until he needed it.”

“Those windows all open onto hallways that circle the top of the building,” SWAT commander Harv Mendel observed.

McCabe nodded. “He probably locked the doors leading to the seating. Hard to blend in if he’d tried to take out Antonio during his speech. But leaving the building…he could have arrived on-scene moments later and no one would have suspected him. Better yet, everyone would have figured it was one of the nut jobs that have been issuing threats. Not one of his own countrymen.”

The mood in the room went grim. “No offense, Senor de la Reyes…” The chief stumbled a bit over the pronunciation. “But he had five days and as many cities to act before you stopped in Metro City. What was he waiting for?”

“This I do not know.”

“I can guess.” McCabe shoved his hands in the pockets of his dark suit jacket, the motion pulling the fabric tight across his shoulders. “He figured this was his best chance to get away with it. He counted on a smaller police force. Less experienced security.” He sent a slight smile at Ava. “He figured wrong.”

The effect of that smile sent a frisson clear down her spine. Nerve endings quivered in response. Long-dormant hormones stirred. Ava straightened in her chair and stared back at McCabe, fighting for an impassive expression. There wasn’t a man alive who could affect her with just a look. Few who could affect her at all. A man that potent wasn’t just one to be wary of.

He was downright lethal.

“Ms. Carter.”

She half turned, her posture wary. Cael quickened his stride to catch up with her and wondered, not for the first time, what it was about the woman that drew this visceral immediate response. She was attractive, with hair and eyes so dark she could pass for a countrywoman of de la Reyes, if it weren’t for her pale skin. But he didn’t react to every attractive female he saw, especially on a job.

“What is it, McCabe?”

One corner of his mouth kicked up at the impatience in her tone. Her voice was a low alto, slightly raspy. Every time he heard it he thought of sex. Hot and sweaty and exhausting.

“If you’ve got a few minutes, I’d like to buy you a drink.” He was close enough to see the mask slide over her expression, and found himself intrigued yet again. Maybe she was used to men hitting on her and had developed an instant defense. He wasn’t hitting on her, but he’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t occurred to him.

“Sorry. I need to get home.” There was no trace of regret in her voice. She pushed open the door of the Metro City Police Headquarters and jogged down the steps.

“I’ll walk you to your car, then.” And it satisfied something inside him to intercept her sidewise glance, half irritated and half questioning. But she made no effort at conversation, clearly leaving that up to him.

He shoved his hands in his suit pockets and fleetingly wondered how long it would be before he could change into something that didn’t feel like a straitjacket. “So. Good shooting today. Were you lucky or are you that good?”

“I’m that good,” she said without a hint of modesty. And because it was no more than he’d heard, he nodded.

“Cold Shot. That’s your call sign, right? From what I hear, it’s well earned.” They stepped into the parking lot. “Who spotted the shooter first?”

“I work with a partner. He was in the conference room. Steve Banes.”

And that, he noted, didn’t answer the question. “Banes told your chief that you noticed it first.” She didn’t respond and he took that as an affirmative. So she wasn’t quick to take credit, a team player. Both facts only cemented his earlier decision. “I’d like to offer you a job.”

The hitch in her gait was the only sign he’d surprised her. “No.” Then after a pause that made it clear it was an afterthought, she added, “Thanks.”

“Haven’t heard my offer yet.” He figured which was her car before she stopped in front of it. A Pontiac, seven or eight years old, and showing its age. “My company, Global Security, specializes in a full array of security solutions. I’m always looking to hire qualified individuals. Your performance today was impressive.” Even more impressive had been what Chief Sanders had to say about Carter’s experience. He was still trying to square her reputation with the tall, lithe woman beside him who’d look more at home on a runway than in SWAT gear.

She clicked the automatic opener on the car, then reached for the handle, offering him a polite smile. “Like I said, I’m not interested. I’ve got a son and I have no intention of uprooting him.”

Disappointment stabbed through him, surprising in its strength. He’d also heard about her son, so her refusal wasn’t totally unexpected. What was unexpected was hearing himself offer, “I’ve got some employees that freelance for me. Work special jobs during their vacations. If you ever want to consider that, give me a call.” He handed her a card, quoting the range of pay.

Her eyes widened, her first real reaction since they’d started the conversation. “A month?”

“A week. Of course, it depends on the job.”

Looking bemused, she accepted the card and slipped it into the pocket of her jacket. “The bodyguard business must be lucrative.”

“I prefer personal protection specialists, and yeah.” He lifted a shoulder. “It’s a dangerous world.”

“Tell me about it.” She opened the car door, got in. “Goodbye, McCabe.”

He stepped away, watching her back out of the space. Leave the lot. And wondered why he was feeling so disappointed that a woman he barely knew was driving out of his life.

She might have made it in time to pick up Alex, Ava thought darkly, as she reparked her car in the half-empty police headquarters lot thirty minutes later. Probably would have, given that he always seemed to be the last one out of the locker room. But the terse phone call she’d received when she’d been halfway to the East High School gym had ended hopes of getting home any time soon.

Her mood grim, she jogged up the steps to the building and flashed her ID at the officer manning the front desk. She strode by with barely a pause in her step, heading toward the stairs leading to the administrative offices. Chief Sanders hadn’t been particularly forthcoming on the phone. But it wasn’t like she could turn down his “request” that she head back in for yet another meeting.

Questions tumbled through her mind like circus acrobats. Had a question arisen regarding Cabrerra’s death? It had been a clean shoot, but she’d seen more than one SWAT sniper get caught up in bureaucratic bullshit after a public outcry.

She took the steps to the second floor two at a time. It was much too early for Sanders to be taking flak for the incident response. The nightly news had just aired. And the mayor, never her favorite person, wouldn’t have a reaction until the results of his daily polls were weighed.

Since it was impossible to guess the agenda for the meeting, Ava tried to shove her questions aside. But that didn’t dissipate the knot of nerves tightening in her stomach.

Knocking on the closed door of Sanders’s office, she awaited the chief’s growled invitation before entering. Immediately her gaze went to the strangers seated across the desk from the chief. She made them out as feds immediately. Their dark suits and arrogant expressions were more telling than badges.

“Detective Carter.” Chief Sanders waved her toward a chair. Ava sat in one a couple feet from the strangers. She felt the two men’s gazes on her, bold and appraising, so she returned their stares unflinchingly. With a few notable exceptions, she held feds in as low esteem as she did politicians, for much the same reasons.

“DHS Agents Samuelson and Paulus,” Sanders continued, with what passed for an introduction. The men gave her slight nods, and Ava struggled to hide her jolt of shock. What would Homeland Security want with her? Because it was at their request that Sanders had ordered her back. That much was clear.

“I’m sure you’re anxious to get home, Detective Carter,” started Samuelson. He was a tall, spare man, with slicked-back thinning dark hair and a tan that didn’t quite hide the old acne scars on his face. “I’ll get right to the point. I understand from Chief Sanders that you’ve met Cael McCabe, the owner of Global Securities.”

“Yes.”

The agent seemed to be waiting for her to go on, but when she didn’t, he pressed, “The two of you were seen together in the parking lot afterward.”

“Yes.” Seen by whom? Who had been the person of interest? McCabe or her?

A note of impatience crept into Samuelson’s tone. “Did the two of you have a conversation?”

“Yes.” She saw Sanders hide a smile at her less than enlightening responses. But she was damned if she was going to feed the feds any information before they extended her the same courtesy.

“We’d like to know what you discussed.” It was the first time Agent Paulus had spoken, and Ava shifted her attention to him. He was a good foot shorter than Samuelson, stocky, with coarse gingery hair and nearly invisible eyebrows.

“Why?”

“Because we asked, Ms. Carter.” Samuelson’s omission of her title didn’t escape her. Neither did his biting tone. She was familiar with the intimidation tactics feds could use to leverage information. She glanced again at Sanders and he gave her a small nod.

She leaned back in her chair, feigning nonchalance. “He offered me a job.” The two agents exchanged a look. Clearly she’d startled them. But even more surprising was the suppressed excitement she sensed her words elicited from them.

“With Global Securities?” Samuelson barely waited for her nod before pressing, “And what was your answer?”

“I told him I wasn’t interested.” Her interest was piqued now, however.

“We’d like you to reconsider your answer to McCabe’s job offer,” Samuelson said. Though couched as a suggestion, it sounded more like a command. “There’s a matter of national security you could assist with by doing so.”

“Why would I do that?” She didn’t understand Chief Sanders’s silence, but she was tiring of the subterfuge. And her diplomacy skills tended to thin when she was tired.

“Patriotism?” offered Paulus. “Duty to your country? Commitment to national freedom?”

Anger coursed through her, a hot rush of feeling. Although she knew she was being manipulated, she was helpless to stem her response. “I’m recently recovered from taking a bullet because of my line of work. Just got back on the job two weeks ago. Tread carefully, gentlemen. You might not want to question my sense of duty.”

“She’s right.” As if Sanders could remain quiet no longer, he came forward in his chair, aimed a steely look at the agents. “Detective Carter is a valued member of our force, and of our incident response unit. Time to fish or cut bait, gentlemen. If you want interagency cooperation, you have to be open about the mission you’re asking Detective Carter’s help on.”

“Of course.” Samuelson smoothed his muted striped tie, his manner stiff. “We were getting to that. Our agency has an interest in Antonio de la Reyes’s new government and of the political climate in San Baltes. McCabe is providing security for de la Reyes, and anyone on his team would have access to certain…intelligence…that would help us with our threat assessment of the newly formed government there. With your heroics today, we thought you’d be in the perfect position to impress McCabe. Petition him for a position on his team.” He gave her a small smile devoid of sincerity. “Obviously you already accomplished that feat. He was impressed enough to offer you a job, which would make your task even more plausible.”

It was amazing, Ava thought cynically, what passed for open communication with these guys. Or maybe they really underestimated her intelligence enough that they thought she’d buy their story unquestioningly. “Why do you need me? Why not approach McCabe directly for the information?” She read her answer from the pained expressions on the agents’ faces.

“Mr. McCabe was disinterested in cooperating.”

Ava’s lips quirked. She could imagine McCabe’s response had been somewhat less polite than Samuelson indicated. Her estimation of the security consultant kicked up a notch.

“Well, I’m confused.” She gave the agents an easy shrug. “The situation you’re outlining sounds like a matter for the CIA, not DHS. Your involvement means there’s a terrorism component to your concern. I must have missed it when you mentioned that part.”

“This is extremely sensitive.” Agent Paulus cast a look at the other agent as he spoke. “Whatever your response, I hope we can count on your discretion.” He waited expectantly, but when Ava said nothing, he went on. “Alberto Martinez, the former leader of San Baltes, was a corrupt dictator. We have reason to believe money from his government was supporting terrorist attacks throughout South America. Naturally we’re eager for the opportunity to explore the degree to which that network still exists. Your placement on McCabe’s team gives us such an opportunity.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was insincere. “As I told Mr. McCabe, I have a job here. A teenage son to care for. I’m not free to take the job even if I wanted to.”

“Captain Sanders assures us that your job would be waiting for you during your absence, as would your spot on SWAT. And your ex-husband could care for your son while you’re gone, couldn’t he?”

Everything in Ava stilled. Her glance flicked to the chief and back to Samuelson. It was impossible to be sure whether they’d gotten the personal details of her life from Sanders or from their own digging, but she’d bet on the latter. DHS wasn’t known for their regard for individuals’ privacy.

The only question remaining was how deep they’d dug.

“The answer’s still no.” Inwardly seething, Ava made sure her emotions didn’t show in her expression. A sense of duty had formed her desire to enter the police force, but this…they were asking her to deceive McCabe, if in fact she could convince him to put her on de la Reyes’s detail. To act as a spy while she was in San Baltes.

She’d worked plenty of undercover cases, but there was nothing compelling about the agents’ request. They could cite national security all they wanted, but they’d failed to convince her of the urgency of this particular task. And even she was surprised at the level of distaste she felt for it.

“So that’s it, gentlemen.” Sanders rose, indicating the meeting was at an end. Ava couldn’t tell if he approved of her response or not. “I said I’d release Detective Carter if she agreed, but you have her answer. I’m afraid I have another meeting in a few minutes.”

They all rose, and the tall agent reached into his pocket to withdraw a card. He handed it to her. “In case you reconsider.”

When Ava went to take it, the man didn’t release the card immediately. Her gaze met his.

“Think it over, Ms. Carter.” His voice was pitched low enough to reach only her ears. “I happen to believe a single act of patriotism can erase years of disloyalty. Years that might prove embarrassing should they be made public.”

The freshly healed scar on her shoulder throbbed at his thinly veiled warning. He finally released the card and she slipped it into her suit pocket. Turning without a word, she headed for the door, wondering frantically just how thorough their investigation of her had been.

Because she didn’t think she was imagining the threat in Samuelson’s parting words.

Chapter Two

Once back in her car, Ava checked her cell phone and found a text message from Alex assuring her he’d find another ride home. She slipped the key in the ignition, but then sat still for a few moments, her fingers clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel.

It was ridiculous to let Samuelson rattle her. She was accustomed to the strong-arm tactics feds used to get what they wanted, but surely his was an empty threat. Her occupation was a daily testament to her patriotism. She didn’t have to fly to another country to prove it. Just as she didn’t have to constantly strive to negate her radical upbringing. How many times had her ex-husband reminded her of that?

Apparently, not often enough.

Perhaps she’d misinterpreted his words. Ava had the thought, tried to believe it. The assignment the man had described didn’t seem all that vital to national security. So he’d left something out, hardly surprising when dealing with feds.

Which made it impossible to decide whether he’d been bluffing about making trouble for her.

She headed out of the lot and turned on the busy Belleview Boulevard. They lived on the outskirts of the city, a fact her son had grown to hate as his social relationships had become the center of his life. But at the time she and Danny had bought the property, it was quite a bit cheaper to live farther out. That was before trendy developments had started popping up all over in what had previously been a spacious, peaceful area.

Things changed. Ava slowed as she came up on a blue-haired woman who could barely see over the top of the steering wheel. Her neighborhood wasn’t the only evidence of that. Less than five years after they’d bought the house, she and Danny had separated. They’d been divorced for nearly three years.

Turning at her corner, she immediately recognized the blue Toyota parked at the curb in front of her house. Her stomach plummeted. It had been a long, stressful day. She and her ex-husband had an amiable relationship, but she wasn’t in the mood to deal with him tonight. All she wanted was a hot meal and a cold beer. Maybe sitting down with Alex to catch the Lakers game on ESPN.

All of which would have to wait until Danny was gone.

Pulling to a stop under the carport, she got out of the vehicle, leaving her gear locked in the trunk. Normally she’d put her rifle in the gun safe, but that would mean carrying it into the house and Danny had never hidden his disapproval about her participation on Alpha Squad. It had been one of the things that had driven them apart.

Pushing open the front door, she saw her ex-husband and Alex sitting on the couch talking animatedly. If their sudden silence at her appearance wasn’t a tip-off that they were up to something, their guilty expressions would have been.

Ava closed the door behind her and raised a quizzical brow. “So, what are you two hatching?”

“Nothing.” Her son was a horrible liar. His eyes, as dark as her own, were alight with excitement. His entire body practically quivered with it. “Dad called right after your text, and when I told him I needed a ride he said he’d pick me up.”

“Uh-huh.” She grabbed him playfully as she walked by the couch, dropping a kiss on his brown mop of hair before he could dodge away. “Did you also tell him we’re going shopping tomorrow and you have to get all your homework done tonight?”

“Oh man.” Alex slumped against the couch. “Can’t you just go and bring some stuff home for me to look at?”

She cocked her head, pretended to consider it. “You mean bring home different sizes and fashions for you to try on and then take back whatever you don’t want? Sort of like your own personal shopper?”

“Yeah.”

“Nope.” Ava dropped in a chair and fixed Alex with a steady look. “Go on and do your English while I talk to your dad. I’ll order something for supper.”

His excitement visibly dimmed, Alex got up and slouched out of the room, muttering, “Okay, but the next kid I see at the mall that calls you a MILF, I’m gonna punch him in the face.”

“Violence is never the answer, Alex,” Danny said reprovingly.

But Ava was less focused on her ex-husband’s words than she was on her son’s. “What is that? MILF? He’s complained about that before.” She swung her puzzled gaze to Danny’s, but her ex looked just as mystified as she was. She’d have to remember to ask one of the other cops. Danny wasn’t exactly up on teenage vernacular.

“Thanks for bringing him home.”

Her ex-husband took off his rimless glasses and cleaned the lenses on his shirt, his fine white-blond hair falling in his eyes. “I wanted to come by and talk to you tonight anyway. It worked out.”

“Must be big.” She waited for him to put his glasses back on, blink at her owlishly. “I haven’t seen Alex that excited since the baseball coach moved him up to play JV last year.”

“Well.” Danny gave her that boyish smile that once would have softened something inside her. “It is big. But how big depends on you.”

For the second time in an hour Ava found herself wishing for a beer. “Danny. It’s been a long day. Just spill it, okay?”

He fingered his white collar, a nervous habit he had. “I just told him about a mission trip I have planned. I booked some flights to Tanzania for this summer for myself and a few other church members. We’re going to help build some schools. Train teachers. I’ll be gone the entire summer.”

“That’s longer than usual.” She reached for the lever to kick up the footrest on her recliner and smothered a purr of satisfaction when the chair responded. “Your church must have really done some major fund-raising for this trip.”

His gaze skirted hers. “The church remains committed to our missionary work. But with the upcoming renovations to the building planned…well, money is tight. I funded it myself.”

“You…” Ava gaped at him. “You don’t have any money.” The child support he sent her was modest. His salary as assistant pastor in a small church was less than what she made, and cops weren’t exactly featured on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. “Where would you get…” Her stomach plummeted. “Oh, Danny. Tell me you didn’t.”

He folded his hands on his knees and leaned forward, his choirboy face earnest. “These people are among the poorest in the world, Ava. They live in mud huts. Some of the children walk ten miles a day to school. Try to put things in perspective. If some personal sacrifice means we can help hundreds of less fortunate…”

The last thing she needed right now was another lecture on sacrifice. She came upright and out of the chair in one smooth motion, her fists balled at her sides. “The sacrifice is hardly personal when it’s your son paying the price. Did you tell Alex you financed this trip by selling the bonds you were saving for his college costs?”

His chin squared. He’d never once raised his voice in all the years she’d known him, but she recognized that expression. It meant he wouldn’t budge from his position. “You still have your savings for him, right? And he doesn’t have to go to MIT. There’s a perfectly adequate college right here in Metro City.”

Ava closed her eyes, gritting her teeth against the hot words that trembled on her tongue. “He’s talked of nothing else for three years. He got a two thousand on the SAT as a freshman, Danny. He’s not going to the local college.” Her son’s proficiency in academics, especially in math and science, had been noticed early in elementary school. She’d been saving what she could for his future since then. They both had. At least until now.

“MIT gives need-based scholarships anyway. And if he has to borrow some money, he’ll appreciate his education more.” Danny’s voice turned indulgent. “The Lord will provide, Ava. You just have to believe.”

She stared at him, her breathing strangled. Which of them had changed more since they’d first met at seventeen and twenty? No real puzzle there. Danny was still the dreamy-eyed idealist, with the biggest heart she’d ever met. So big sometimes that it blinded him to the needs of his own family. While she…after eleven years on the force, she’d learned that all people weren’t inherently good. That evil was more than a concept. And if you didn’t take care of your own, no one else would.

Turning her back on him, she fought to keep her voice steady. “You need to go.”

“Ava—”

“Now.” She could feel the temper heating her from the inside out. The tightness in her chest heralded an impending explosion. Alex didn’t need to hear his parents arguing. He’d heard plenty of that before they’d split.

There was nothing to argue about at any rate. The bonds were gone. And nothing she could say would convince Danny he’d violated a trust by using them.

A thought struck her there, comprehension piercing anger. She whirled to see Danny halfway through the door. “Wait.” He halted. “That’s not what had Alex so excited. What’d you tell him?”

His sheepish look was its own answer. “I meant to run it by you first. Really. But we got to talking, and seeing how interested he was, it just came out. But I warned him that you were going to have the final say, Ava. I swear I did.”

“No.”

“It would be a wonderful experience for him.” Her ex let go of the doorknob and moved closer to her. “He’ll learn compassion for others…”

“My son doesn’t need to travel ten thousand miles to learn compassion.” Her voice shook with the effort it took to keep it steady. Odd how she could face down an armed robber. Take out a target at a thousand yards. But this…this had panic sprinting down her spine. Ice bumping through her veins. “And if you think I’m sending a fifteen-year-old boy halfway around the world with you this summer, you are seriously deranged.”

“Pizza delivery.”

Ava stood in her son’s open doorway and waved the pizza box in front of her. Alex turned around in his desk chair and grinned in delight. “Meat lover’s with mushrooms and green olives?”

“Yes, O Gluttonous One.” When she entered his room, her son’s eyes widened. “I get to eat in my room?” The practice had been banned after Ava had discovered why the house had such an ant infestation. Alex tended to forget the leftovers he shoved under his bed, but the ants never did.

“It’s a onetime offer, and mealtime rules apply. Put a shirt on.” He must have showered, because his hair was damp and he was clad only in baggy basketball shorts. He got up and pulled a T-shirt over his head, and she was struck anew by the definition in his back and shoulders. He already stood eye-to-eye with her at five nine. He’d surpass her by his next birthday. Girls had been calling the house for three years, but in the last twelve months or so Alex had been doing some calling of his own. Sometimes the years seemed to meld into nanoseconds. Another few blinks and he’d be off to college and she’d be alone for the first time in her life.

Shrugging off the bolt of emotion that twisted at the thought, she sat on his bed, cross-legged, with the box on her lap. She handed him a plate as he reached for the first slice of pizza, knowing he wasn’t one to bother with such niceties on his own.

“This looks great. What are you going to eat?”

“Funny.” But Ava withdrew two pieces just in case. Alex could work his way through the rest without a pause. His metabolism should rank as one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

They ate for a few minutes in companionable silence. After breaking all speed limits to wolf down three slices, he finally slowed enough to say, “Guess you’re pretty pissed that Dad talked to me about going to Africa, huh?”

At her sharp glance he rolled his eyes and amended, “I mean ‘mad.’”

She put her half-eaten slice down and reached for a napkin. “It’s a big decision, Alex. And it’s one we should have talked over before he mentioned it to you. So yeah, I’m not crazy about the idea.”

“But you’ll think about it, right? I mean, how cool would that be? I’ve never even been out of the country before.”

“You’ve been to Mexico.”

He waved off her correction. “Okay, I haven’t been off the continent. When would I ever get a chance like this again?”

She wiped her fingers carefully, trying to hide her dismay. “It wouldn’t be a pleasure trip. You’d be working. Living without indoor plumbing and electricity. No TV. No video games.”

“I know that.” He took another slice out of the box. “But I’d be doing some good, right? And think how that would look on my college application. You’re always saying I need to list community service.”

“I was thinking more like mentoring middle schoolers. Teaching Sunday school. And what about baseball?”

“Dad said I could fly out after the regular season is done. It’s not like we’re going to State this year. Not with Severin as the pitcher. Did you know his fastball is only clocked at sixty miles an hour?”

She had to smile at the disgusted expression on his face.

“So that would give me a good month there before I have to come back and get ready for school.”

The bite Ava had just taken turned to ash in her mouth. She swallowed with effort. “What about our camping trip?” Each year she saved the majority of her vacation and they went to the mountains. Or the desert. Or the Southwest. They spent weeks poring over maps, planning their route and which campsites to stop at. Where to hike or kayak. They’d been talking about white-water rafting on the Snake River on their travels this summer.

Alex shrugged. “We camp every year. It’s no big deal.” Then he looked up, his face stricken. “I mean, we can go again next summer, right?”

He had a heart as soft as Danny’s. Ava knew if she didn’t reassure him, he’d beat himself up for hurting her feelings. “Right. But I still have to think about it.”

“Okay.” He reached for another slice, satisfied for the time being with her answer. But when he changed the topic to complain about a teacher who just happened to teach his least favorite subject—English—Ava’s attention was only half on the conversation.

Her mind was reeling. First there’d been the unsettling meeting with DHS, then the double punch of the twin parental concerns she’d been handed tonight.

Experiencing a sinking certainty, Ava was beginning to believe that the solution to all three situations might be entwined.

“So, do you?”

Her attention jerked back to her son, who was regarding her impatiently. “Do I what?”

“Have some sort of genealogy information for me to use for this lame English paper.”

Ava searched through the fragments of the last few moments of conversation that had registered, came up empty. “Why do you need that?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Mo-om. I just told you about that family tree assignment Fulton gave us in English. I need something to put in the paper I have to write. Five pages. Five. Whole. Pages.”

Ordinarily she would have commiserated with her son’s dismay. She wasn’t much of a writer herself. But for the second time that day she was reminded of her past, and it wasn’t a recollection she cared for.

“I’m sorry, my family wasn’t much for writing stuff like of pain familiar. “No.” The lie didn’t weigh heavily on her. She’d spent the first two years of Alex’s life desperately trying to get her father to acknowledge her existence, and that of his grandson.

And then the next dozen years ignoring his.

“Great.” Alex wadded up his napkin and slouched in his chair. “Now Fulton will make me take the information you do have and do a genealogy search on the Internet. Jonnie Winters had to do that last semester and it took him days. I was hoping just to write the report with what we already had.”

Tiny shards of ice formed in Ava’s blood. All sorts of information was available on the Internet. But one thing would not be found there: any trace of her father’s death.

She considered for a moment having to explain to her son why she’d lied to him all these years about their lack of relatives. Thought of how she’d tell him who and what his grandfather was. Who Ava used to be.

Her throat suddenly dry, she looked at Alex, who was regarding her expectantly. “How about you use your dad’s genealogy for the paper? Grandpa Carter has notebooks full of their family history.”

Hope glimmered in her son’s eyes. “You think I could? It’s not exactly my family since dad adopted me.”

“Well, you share the same last name, so Mr. Fulton won’t know that, will he?”

“Sweet,” he said with satisfaction. “I thought of that earlier, but I thought…you know…maybe you’d think it was dishonest or something.”

Ava caught Alex’s eyes on her and it was all she could do not to squirm. Her hypocrisy weighted heavily on her. She’d endlessly preached truthfulness to her son while she’d spent his whole life lying to him about her family.

She smiled weakly, guilt slashing at her. There was little a parent wouldn’t do to protect her child. But sometimes she wondered whom she was really protecting. Because in that moment she realized exactly how far she’d go to keep her past hidden, for both their sakes.

Cael stepped out of the shower and carelessly swiped a towel down his body as he reached for his ringing cell. It was after eleven, West Coast time. But he had operatives across the nation and in several countries with various time zones. And in accordance with Murphy’s Law, it seemed like at least half of them had called with some sort of problem today.

He looked at the screen, didn’t recognize the number. “Global Security.” As he answered the call he fastened the towel around his waist, raking his fingers through his hair. Maybe he could manage a haircut before leaving the States again.

“McCabe.”

That low smoky tone was immediately recognizable. So was the heat it elicited low in his belly. “Ava Carter.”

There was a hesitation. Then, “I just noticed the time. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Not a problem. All hell’s been breaking loose this evening and I haven’t even thought about sleep yet.” He headed out to the sitting area of his suite, perched on the arm of the couch, intrigued and wary. When they’d parted this afternoon he’d never expected to see her again. And he still had trouble understanding the source of the regret that thought had elicited.

But then later, when Benton had reported following Samuelson to police headquarters, where Carter had reappeared, too, his interest in her had taken on a whole different facet.

She didn’t beat around the bush. “I’ve been thinking of your offer this afternoon. About short-term employment. Were you serious?”

His stomach twisted, a quick vicious lurch. It took more effort than it should have to respond evenly. “Yeah. How much time do you have available?”

“I have several weeks’ leave accumulated.”

“Then you could take some now, right?” With the words he baited the trap, prayed she wouldn’t walk in. Heard it snap closed when she did.

“I could probably get approval for immediate leave.”

“If you’re serious about this I’d like to meet with you as soon as possible.” Needed to, to find out what had caused her sudden about-face.

But he was very much afraid he already knew.

“All right. My shift tomorrow gets done at—”

“Tomorrow I’m flying to L.A. It’ll have to be tonight.” He crossed to the desk, found a pad and pen. “Give me directions to your place. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” The reluctance in her voice as she recited the directions did nothing to dispel the determination spiking in his gut. As he disconnected the phone he clenched the instrument tightly in his hand, to avoid hurling it across the room. He didn’t want to believe that DHS had drawn her into this. It would be a stretch, even for Samuelson.

But the possibility had to be explored. He crossed to his suitcase, pulled out some clothes. Dropping the towel, he began to dress swiftly. The fact that he was reluctant to credit the suspicions forming in his mind meant Ava Carter had already gotten under his skin.

Which made her dangerous in more ways than one.

The expression on Ava’s face was wary as she pulled open the door before Cael had a chance to knock. Stepping aside to let him in, she said, “You move fast.”

“I have to.” Stepping inside, he shot a quick look around the place as she closed the door behind him. “I’ve got a killer schedule and we’re spread a little thinner than I’d like.”

He followed her to the leather couch and sat down, while she seated herself in the recliner facing him. On the way over he’d convinced himself that his earlier reaction to her was a combination of adrenaline and respect. That shot of hers today had been an impressive depiction of her talent.

But looking at her now, he realized he’d been kidding himself. Adrenaline had long faded, and it wasn’t exactly respect that had him noticing her long, slim legs. Or the very female curves beneath the T-shirt she wore.

“So being shorthanded is the reason you wanted me to take vacation immediately?”

Her question yanked his attention back to business, where it would need to stay. If she was linked to Samuelson he’d have to tread carefully.

“Partially. But I’ve accepted an extension to my contract with de la Reyes. And your skills would come in useful during the course of that case.”

Cael leaned back and propped one foot over the opposite knee, settling deeper into the couch. “De la Reyes needs personal protection more than ever. There’s a rebel faction in his country working for a man who wants him out of power. With Cabrerra’s betrayal, he can’t afford to trust anyone. If his security detail has been infiltrated, why not his government? His household help? He needs outsiders to spearhead a safety regimen for him, until he can weed out those whose loyalty can be bought.”

“And what happens to those people?”

He recognized the concern in her question. “Don’t worry. Whatever you think of de la Reyes’s politics, he came to power through a democratic election. He’s lobbying our government for increased aid. He’s hardly going to jeopardize that with civil rights violations. Those disloyal to him would be expelled from the country or jailed, but he wouldn’t order them killed. He says he’s committed to having his country recognized by the U.N. after decades of dictator rule. I believe him.”

Ava looked less certain. “And the immediacy you spoke of earlier?”

“I need to accompany de la Reyes to L.A., which will be his last stop in the States. In two days we fly back to San Baltes. It’ll take ten operatives to provide full security for him there once he resumes his full schedule. I can’t have them all in place for at least a week.”

“So I’d be providing protection until you can put a team together.”

“We’d be providing protection,” Cael corrected. “At least until the full detail is positioned. Are you as skilled with a handgun as you are with a rifle?”

She regarded him coolly. “Yes.”

“Good. You’ll be provided with both. I can expedite a passport if you don’t have one.”

“I do.”

Giving a satisfied nod, he said, “So it’s just a matter of getting the time off on short notice.”

She raised her brows. “There’s a matter of me agreeing first.”

He didn’t smile but something inside him lightened. Dead tired, he shouldn’t find it so damn stimulating to spar with her. Especially given what she might be hiding from him. “Ava, if you weren’t interested you wouldn’t have contacted me. Something changed between the time I spoke to you this afternoon and when you called earlier. Something that made you overlook your earlier objections.”

She’d gone still, but not a flicker of expression crossed her face. “I’m not a cop, but I do have some deductive powers. That’s how I keep my clients alive.” He sat, barely breathing, waiting for her reply. Wanting desperately for her to prove those persistent little doubts swirling inside him wrong.

For a moment he thought she wouldn’t answer. Was prepared to probe further. But then she said, her gaze skirting his, “After a visit from my ex-husband this afternoon I find myself in need of money.” Her eyes came back to fix on his then, held steady. “If I decide to do this, regardless of my reasons, I’ll put everything I’ve got into the assignment. I won’t take it if I don’t believe I can be of help to you.”

He almost lost his train of thought for a moment, under her liquid chocolate gaze, before his resolve hardened. Nodding, he got to his feet, headed toward the door. “You check on that vacation time in the morning. I’ll need your answer in twenty-four hours.”

Closing the door behind him, he jogged down the steps toward his car. He could ill-afford to turn down her help if she did sign on. He hadn’t been lying about needing her on de la Reyes’s protection team.

But had she been lying to him?

He opened the door of the dark rental sedan, slid inside. Her story about a sudden need for money was plausible. It was also completely impossible to check out. Starting the ignition, he pulled away from the curb. Useless to wonder if it was a story cooked up between her and Samuelson. Or to speculate what her motivation would be for agreeing to join forces with the man.

He wanted—needed—to take her word at face value. But Cael McCabe believed in being prepared. As much as he believed in revenge.

He glanced in his rearview mirror before switching lanes. If Ava Carter turned out to be working with Samuelson, he’d have no compunction about using her to destroy the man. And if that destroyed her in the process, well…

She would have gotten exactly what she deserved.

Chapter Three

Two days later Ava was jogging across the tarmac at LAX to the private jet waiting for her. A man she remembered from Cael’s security detail at the civic center stood at the base of the steps leading into the plane. She flipped through her mental Rolodex. Bailey. Balsem. Benton. That was it. He’d been flanking de la Reyes’s other side when Cabrerra fired at the man, hitting the officer instead. He was around her age, with wavy brown hair and a friendly puppy dog face that belied the seriousness of his occupation.

When she would have hurried up the steps by him, he reached for her bag. “I’ll take care of this.”

“I can handle it.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t relinquish his grip on the suitcase. “Boss’s orders.”

Ava released the bag, hoping her uneasiness didn’t show. She’d refused most of the high-tech tools Samuelson had tried to press on her, but she had accepted the minicamera hidden inside what looked like a normal pen. All parts were plastic or ceramic to pass undetected through security.

Heading into the jet, she reassured herself it was unlikely the item would raise any concerns. She was a cop, and she wouldn’t have found the tiny camera if it hadn’t been shown to her. It certainly looked harmless enough, clipped to a slim notepad in a zippered side compartment.

She paused before heading down the aisle. The surroundings were considerably more opulent than any she’d flown in before. There were six rows with two wide, comfortable-looking leather seats on either side of the aisle. Through an open door in the back she noted another compartment complete with wet bar and couches.

McCabe was seated midway back next to de la Reyes, and the two discontinued their conversation when she made an appearance. The president spoke first.

“Detective Carter.” His face was wreathed in smiles. “It is a pleasure to see you again. Forgive me for not rising. My seat belt is fastened in preparation for departure.”

Cael lifted a brow at her. “You cut it close,” he noted.

Her nerves jittered. Considering the fact that she’d had to completely rearrange both her personal and private life in less than forty-eight hours, it was a miracle she’d made it on time.

And given her continued ambivalence about this task, it would have been a relief if the jet had taken off without her.

As the men resumed their conversation she took a free seat near the back behind an operative of Cael’s she remembered from before. Sibbits, she thought his name was. He was exceedingly thin, as if all excess flesh had been carved away. His receding hairline was graying, and cropped short. The rest of the plane’s occupants were part of de la Reyes’s entourage.

Benton boarded the plane, minus her bag, and took a seat up front. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that her luggage had been thoroughly searched before it had been stowed. The precaution only served to remind her of the precariousness of her situation. Until de la Reyes ascertained the level of infiltration, no one in his government was above suspicion.

And if Ava let her guard down in the slightest, a very different sort of suspicion would fall on her.

The jet’s engines revved. Moments later it began rolling along the runway. She’d never been a nervous flier, but the anxiety from her situation had her remaining seated upright, muscles tight with tension. So it must have been sheer exhaustion that had her asleep before they’d been in the air a half hour.

Awareness prickled beneath her subconscious. In the dim recesses of her mind, an alarm shrilled. Ava struggled to surface from slumber, but it was like swimming against a powerful current. She couldn’t manage to drag her eyes open.

She was floating in pale green seas, being tugged ashore by an unrelenting tide. The sensation might have been pleasant if she’d felt more in control. As it was, she fought against the inexorable force of nature, found herself betrayed by limbs that had turned weak and molten.

Opening her eyes, she was disoriented to see Cael’s face close to hers, his gaze fixed and intense. It was with no little embarrassment that she realized his eyes were the exact shade of the sea she’d been lost in only moments ago. Sleep shredded defenses and dignity with equal ease. Exploited vulnerabilities usually kept guarded.

“We’ll be landing in fifteen minutes.”

Averting her gaze, she raised her seat forward. “You should have wakened me earlier.”

“I figured you probably needed the sleep. It couldn’t have been easy making all the arrangements you had to on such short notice.”

The innocent words had remorse stabbing through her. She’d called him before she’d contacted DHS, half hoping he’d make the decision easy for her. If he hadn’t invited her along on this particular mission, she would have been off the hook, having done her “duty.”

But he hadn’t made it easy for her. And neither had Samuelson, with his air of condescension, as if her eventual acquiescence had never been in question. She didn’t know which made her feel worse, that she was deceiving a man who paid her salary for the duration of the job. Or that the money itself had played an undeniable part in her decision.

Turning back to McCabe, she said only, “What’s in place so far?” Regardless of Samuelson’s agenda for this trip, she was being paid to provide security protection, and that task would take precedence while she was in San Baltes.

His voice was pitched low. “I’ve got two men on the ground already. They’ll have completed some preliminary work prior to our arrival. De la Reyes was originally scheduled to return to San Baltes tomorrow. His men, including the pilot, just found out this morning of the change of plans. I’ve tried to make sure none of them have had access to outside communication.”

She asked shrewdly, “And the news of his early return has been leaked only to…?”

Cael gave her an approving look. “Rafael Gonzalez is de la Reyes’s chief of Presidential Guard. It’d be like our Secret Service. Pedro Cabrerra was his most senior officer.”

Ava’s spine prickled as she grasped his meaning. “Even if Gonzalez shares Cabrerra’s political leanings, he’d be crazy to try anything now. He has to realize his department will already be under suspicion.”

“Which also makes it more urgent that he act. His entire branch is about to undergo intense scrutiny. If Gonzalez is affiliated with the rebels, he has one last chance to strike before his access to President de la Reyes becomes curtailed.”

She nodded her understanding. “How do we know the rest of his security detail weren’t in on Cabrerra’s plan?”

Cael looked grim. “That’s one of the questions my operatives are checking into. They’re investigating all Cabrerra’s associates, discreetly, of course. I have them meeting us at the airport to provide more security for the trip to the presidential palace.”

“What will we have for weapons?”

“We’ll have access to enough firepower to hold off a small rebel contingent.” At her sharp glance, the corner of his mouth turned up. “Let’s hope it’s not needed. Our team will take over as the first security wave. The nationals will answer to us for now. You’ll be in a rotation providing personal protection to de la Reyes at all times.” His gaze raked her form. “I’ve got a vest for you. You’ll wear it every minute you’re on duty. And with the exception of the limited amount of time you’ll spend sleeping, you’ll always be on duty.” He waited a moment before saying quietly, “Regrets?”

“I don’t waste time on regrets.” It was almost true. There was no way to make amends for her past. No reason why she should feel the need to. Most of the time she believed that. But Samuelson had unerringly pressed exactly the right button to have that old guilt rising to the surface again.

“Good to know.”

There was something in his eyes, in his voice that had her glancing at him. Found him watching her, in much the same way he’d been when she’d first wakened. A slow heat suffused her body just recalling that moment. But she knew none of her inner embarrassment showed on her face. She’d learned long ago how to mask her emotions.

“You’re completely still when you sleep.” His voice had gone whisper soft. “Like a porcelain statue. Not even your expression changes. I imagine you’re like that when you’re in position for a shot.”

There was something curiously intimate in knowing that he’d watched her while she slept. No one else had ever had the opportunity, with the exception of her ex. She’d never “slept” with Alex’s birth father. Not in the literal sense.

She could feel heat crawling up her neck. Cael McCabe had a knack for catching her off guard, and that would have to change. She knew enough about him to realize he was a man to seize any vulnerability and turn it to his advantage.

She was already vulnerable enough. The deception she was engaged in made an undeniably dangerous situation even more explosive.

As the jet idled on the runway Ava donned her vest, then sat down to check the weapons she’d been assigned. Two men she didn’t recognize had carried them aboard from one of the three black SUVs parked nearby. Both were beauties, the handgun a nine-millimeter Lugar semiautomatic and a Remington rifle and scope that could have been twins to her SWAT equipment. She strapped on her holster and clipped the pouch of extra ammunition around her waist. Looking around, she saw everyone else similarly equipping themselves, with the exception of de la Reyes, who was speaking on a cell phone. She had protective garb for him, too, before he exited the jet.

She waited patiently as McCabe spoke quietly to the newcomers. They must be the men he said he had on the ground already, gathering intelligence. Switching her attention to the dark waiting vehicles, she surmised McCabe’s plan. The best way to arrange security would be to have the armored cars drive right up to the jet, load the bags and leave without ever entering the airport building. With a VIP like de la Reyes on board, she imagined, that wouldn’t be difficult to arrange.

McCabe and the two strangers got up and headed toward the door. Cael turned back, caught her eye. “Be ready to move out in five minutes.”

She nodded, rising to approach de la Reyes. He was speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, most of which she was able to follow. She was familiar enough with the language to converse with Hispanic victims on the job. She heard him tell whomever he was speaking to that he’d be arriving home tomorrow. So he was following Cael’s orders, at least for now. And from his tone, she thought he was speaking to a woman. McCabe hadn’t mentioned a wife, so maybe a girlfriend.

Glancing out the window, she saw McCabe walking close to the side of one of the SUVs, a long pole in his hand. Checking for bombs on the undercarriage of the vehicle, she noted with approval. He was leaving nothing to chance. The mirror on the other end of the pole would reveal anything hidden beneath. She had no doubt that the interior would be subjected to a similarly rigorous search.

Her spine prickled. His thoroughness was a chilling reminder that de la Reyes hadn’t been delivered to safety once he’d reached his homeland. Just the opposite.

Once de la Reyes ended the conversation, Ava slid into the seat next to him. “You’ll need to put this on before leaving the aircraft.” She handed him his vest. “Just as a precaution.”

The man eyed the garment for a moment before reaching for it. “Mr. McCabe leaves nothing to chance.”

Ava helped him into the vest, expertly fastening it for him. “That quality of his will work in your favor. Your situation calls for caution.”

His expression was rueful. “I am a man of action. But we must take care first that I live to take that action, true?”

“That’s right.”

De la Reyes peered out the window. “How much longer will it be? I have much to do now that I am back.”

“This is all just routine, but as I said, McCabe is a stickler for precautions.”

“So I see,” he murmured, his gaze returning to the window. “He is, as we say in my country, un hombre de la guerra. A man of war, is he not?”

His words jolted her, they so closely resembled her own impression in the briefing just a few short days ago. A warrior. Ready for battle at a moment’s notice.

For the first time she wondered about McCabe’s background. Not his security business, which she’d thoroughly checked out before calling him. But whatever had prepared him for establishing the business. Military, certainly. Special forces, most likely. It would explain that tough edge he maintained that the most civilized of garments or surroundings couldn’t quite mask.

One of the vehicles pulled up to the aircraft steps. Ava led de la Reyes to the doorway. She and Benton flanked the man as they hurried him to the waiting SUV.

McCabe was behind the wheel, Sibbits next to him. Ava had de la Reyes get in the middle with Benton, while she positioned herself in the third seat next to a large leather duffel bag. The president’s men split up into the remaining vehicles. One of McCabe’s operatives rode in each of them. When one SUV pulled out, they followed, and the third brought up the rear.

Cael turned around. He’d donned a pair of mirrored sunglasses. “The gear’s on the seat next to you.”

Ava leaned over to unzip the bag. Spreading it open, she blinked.

It was packed to launch a small war.

There were several grenades, extra weapons and what looked like a portable rocket launcher. There were rifle scopes, binoculars, night-vision goggles and extra ammunition. Ava looked up, caught McCabe’s eyes on her in the rearview mirror. He’d prepared himself for anything.

She withdrew a pair of German-made high-powered binoculars and trained them out the back window. Cordoba was the capital city of San Baltes, surrounded by mountains on three sides and the Pacific Ocean on the other. The natural beauty of the surroundings was in stark contrast to the Third World squalor they traveled through on the highway heading toward the center of the city.

“I’m a big fan of one of your country’s singers. Mirabel Estaban. Have you ever met her?” Benton asked de la Reyes.

“Ah, Senorita Estaban. She is very talented, yes? She sang at my inauguration celebration. Her music is very popular here.”

“I saw her on YouTube. On the Internet? She was wearing this dress cut down to…” Ava glanced up in time to see Sibbits turn in his seat, directing a look at Benton, who spread his hands innocently. “What? It showed her talents, is all I’m saying. Plus she can really sing.”

De la Reyes gave a deep-throated laugh. “You are a man to appreciate a gorgeous woman. I can assure you, my country has many such beauties. Perhaps you will have the opportunity to meet some of them in your stay here.”

Ava returned to her vigil, tuning out the conversation. There were three lanes of traffic traveling in either direction, separated by a median filled with mud, weeds and debris. Their American-made SUVs stood out among the economysized vehicles zipping by them.

Something caught her eye and she stilled, peering hard through the binoculars. The late-model Jeep coming up fast in the next lane behind them looked familiar.

“Alert car 3, vehicle to their back and left. We saw that red Jeep when we left the airport. Again when we took the last exit. Three occupants. No, wait. Four.”

A radio crackled, and then she heard Sibbit’s voice. “Vehicle three, ready defensive tactics. Red Jeep with multiple occupants. Left lane, coming fast.”

The Jeep drew nearer and Ava felt a familiar spike of adrenaline. “Weapons sighted. At least two rifles.”

Sibbits repeated the information to the third vehicle, while she heard McCabe speaking into his own radio, ordering the first SUV to drop back and exchange places with them. Benton was urging de la Reyes onto the floor, while he grabbed his weapon.

Ava lowered the high-powered glasses long enough to duck out from under the rifle strap, and readied the weapon. Sliding off the safety, she steadied the rifle, sighted, waiting for the command. The third vehicle swerved behind them into the path of the red Jeep, to force it to decrease its speed.

Except it didn’t slow down. The Jeep slammed into the SUV, and there was a screech of metal on metal. Gunfire was exchanged between the two vehicles.

“Do you have a shot?”

Ava peered through the rifle’s site, readjusted position to make up for the trajectory through two windows. “Yes.”

“Take it.”

The Jeep rammed the third SUV again, sending it spinning into the side rail. Ava saw the man in the Jeep’s front passenger seat swing his rifle toward their vehicle as it raced toward them. Ignoring him for the moment, she concentrated on the driver, and squeezed the trigger once. Twice.

The Jeep’s windshield shattered and the vehicle jerked to the right as the driver slumped over the wheel. The shooter’s shot went wild. Ava saw the passenger in the front seat lower his weapon to wrench at the wheel as it veered into the far lane of traffic in front of an open-bed truck hauling a load of caged chickens.

“Vehicle one dropping back.”

The bullet hole through their back window sent out a spiderweb of cracks, ruining her visual. She reengaged the safety and swung a leg over the seat to kick the window out with one booted foot. Their SUV picked up speed, lengthening the distance away from the Jeep. She saw the other SUV’s occupants returning fire with the shooters in the Jeep before it careened into the median, flipping over on its top.

Ava could hear Cael snapping orders, Sibbits trying to raise vehicle three’s occupants on the radio. De la Reyes was on the phone commanding a police helicopter to contain the scene. But then the Jeep burst into flames.

There would be very little for the police to investigate once they finally arrived.

“I owe you thanks once again, Senorita Carter.”

Ava shifted uncomfortably, sliding a sidelong glance toward Cael. “It was a team effort, sir.”

They stood in the sitting room of de la Reyes’s opulent personal quarters on the third level of the presidential palace. Antonio stood at a wet bar tucked in a corner, pouring himself a glass of wine. For the first time since she’d met the man she could read weariness on his face.

“It was, yes.” He gave her a small smile as he offered her a glass of wine. Because she could think of no polite way to refuse, Ava took it. “And I have already conveyed my gratitude to Senor McCabe.”

“Have you compiled the list I asked for?” Cael accepted the wine Antonio held toward him.

“I have. It is there for you, on top of the desk.” De la Reyes raised his own glass and drank deeply as he turned to face them. Lowering the glass, he added, “It includes every person in my government, along with their position. I do not like to suspect any of the names on it.” He gave them a grim smile. “Only one of them learned the date of my arrival from me.”

Cael crossed to the desk and picked up the paper, scanning it quickly before lifting his gaze to meet the other man’s. “The men you had in the States with you…I collected their cell phones prior to them boarding. It would have been nearly impossible for them to communicate our plans prior to boarding the plane.”

“So that means Rafael Gonzalez has betrayed me?” De la Reyes dropped heavily into an ornately carved chair that looked to be centuries old. “He has been with me since before I won the presidency. I would have trusted him with my life. I have done so, on countless occasions.”

Lifting a shoulder, Cael said, “We have to take precautions. I’ll want to interrogate him, of course. We’ve already got him placed under house arrest. He’ll be detained until we can be certain.”

Antonio’s head jerked up, the hopeful expression on his face impossible to miss. “You think he could be innocent? How can that be?”

“The pilot had to file a flight plan. It could be someone in the airport. Hell, someone in the tower might have been paid to tip off your enemies whenever your flight plan was received.”

“Then we still have no way to be certain who has been disloyal, or whom they alerted. I do not see that we are any further ahead then we were in Metro City.”

Cael gave a feral smile. “Leave it to me. Our investigation is already under way. I’ll need access to the bank accounts of every name on that paper you compiled for me, as soon as possible.”

De la Reyes nodded. “You shall have it. I’ll make the calls first thing in the morning.”

“Then I’ll have some answers for you in a matter of days.”

Antonio raised his glass in a silent salute. “I will wish you luck, then, Mr. McCabe, since your success may mean my survival.”

Sibbits drew duty outside de la Reyes’s quarters that night, so the rest of the crew gathered in a conference room on the first floor of the palace. While Benton and Cael swept it for electronic bugs, Ava mentally calculated the last time she’d gotten a full night’s sleep. Since the answer was too dismal to contemplate, she dismissed it. It didn’t appear to be changing any time in the near future.

Finally, everyone settled into a chair around the table. She was reminded of the briefing that had taken place after the shooting…was it only two days ago? Two and a half?

Cael made introductions. “Mike Reynolds and Luis Perez have made some inroads since they got here two days ago. I’ll let them bring you up to date.”

Ava turned her attention to the two men he indicated, the ones who’d had the vehicles and weapons waiting for them at the airport.

Both were swarthy and dark complexioned, although Reynolds was taller and leaner than the stocky Perez. She knew instinctively that McCabe had chosen them for their ability to blend in with the San Baltes residents. If they were fluent in Spanish, they wouldn’t raise suspicion mingling in the markets and cantinas ferreting out information.

Reynolds lost no time. “De la Reyes is highly unpopular with some factions.” He stood, handing out thick files to each of them. “Especially by those who support the deposed dictator, Alberto Martinez. But we don’t think Martinez is the threat. For one thing, he’s been in exile in Brazil for three years. His supporters don’t look good for the assassination attempt. We couldn’t find any indication that they have the organization to move in once de la Reyes is out of the way.”

He stopped, and Perez took over. “It’s more likely that the attempt was financed by this man.” He held up a picture. “Enrico Ramirez. He’s the leader of a very powerful drug cartel that operated out of San Baltes for two decades, apparently with Martinez’s knowledge and approval. Like most of the drug lords in the South American countries, he runs his drugs down the river systems in the jungle. De la Reyes has been cracking down on criminal elements in the country, and although he hasn’t managed to catch Ramirez, his efforts have seriously curtailed the man’s activities, and profits. He’s had forensic accountants secretly going through the banks’ records for months, hoping to find those Ramirez is funneling his money through.”

Ava studied the man in the picture. Plump and avuncular, he looked more like a favorite uncle than a ruthless drug dealer.

“Ramirez went into hiding two years ago, but it’s believed that he’s financing the rebel contingent that has been causing such unrest in the country for the last eighteen months.”

“He’s using them to get rid of de la Reyes so he can go back to business as usual,” Cael surmised aloud. “Does he want Martinez back in control?”

“We don’t think so.” Reynolds spoke for the two of them. “Apparently Martinez got too greedy. It’s more likely that Ramirez will just install a puppet president that will do his bidding while he gets his drug trade moving freely again.”

“So if this attempt wasn’t politically motivated,” Ava said, “that means Cabrerra’s betrayal was bought and paid for by Ramirez. That doesn’t help us protect de la Reyes, but it might make it easier to determine if anyone else in his government is prepared to turn on him.”

Cael nodded. “We follow the money. Did anything come up on the rest of de la Reyes’s security contingent he brought with him to the States?”

Perez shook his head. “No. But that doesn’t mean they’re in the clear yet.”

“Follow up on them, then. Also the pilot of the presidential jet.” Cael gave them the man’s name and Reynolds jotted it down. “Find out who was working the control tower today. Any one of them could have accessed the flight plan and alerted a third party.”

Sibbits spoke up. “Did you get any information from the occupants in the Jeep today?”

McCabe shook his head grimly. “Ava took out the driver and Perez got the passenger in the front seat. The two in the back were trapped inside the vehicle. Identification of the bodies will be difficult.”

Remembering the flames that had engulfed the Jeep, Ava felt a quick shudder. It would have been a grisly death. But she wasn’t going to waste sympathy on the unknown assailants. Not when she knew their intent.

“De la Reyes will elicit the cooperation of the banks in the country. A little forensic accounting will tell us if anyone working in his government is sitting on some unexplained piles of cash. That will help us eliminate people quickly.”

He slid a gaze around the table. “Sibbits, Carter and Benton will take turns protecting de la Reyes, in eight-hour shifts. You’ll be backed up by his guard detail, but don’t trust any of them until they’ve been cleared. When you’re not on duty, you’ll be at my side assisting in the investigation. De la Reyes will be changing his schedule of public appearances and conducting business out of the palace until further notice.

“Reynolds and Perez will follow up on the pilot and the airport tower personnel. Stay on top of the local police. We need IDs on the occupants in that Jeep.”

“There’s one more thing.”

All eyes turned to Reynolds. “Perez and I have both heard talk about the rebels’ jungle camp. I think if enough money changed hands, we might be able to get its location.”

Cael thought for a moment. “How reliable is this information?”

The two operatives looked at each other. “We both heard the same rumors,” Reynolds said. “The guy who claims he’s been there…” The man lifted one shoulder. “I’d make sure he showed me sort of proof before I gave him any cash.”

“How much?”

He named a price that seemed ridiculously low to Ava. But, she reminded herself, she was in a country with a per capita income of three thousand American dollars a year. Where allegiance could be bought if pockets were deep enough.

And where lives could be snuffed out for the price of a week’s groceries.

“If you can verify the location and the function of the camp, go for it. These places tend to be portable, though. Find out if he knows other sites they’ve maintained.” Seemingly finished, Cael looked at each of them in turn. “I don’t have to remind you to be careful. Our mission is to keep de la Reyes alive long enough to find out who he can trust. After that he can better protect himself. But if we can point him in Ramirez’s direction before we leave…” He gave a ruthless smile. “That will be gravy. Maybe he’ll be able to clean up the country for good.”

Cael had insisted on accompanying Ava to her room. And after her initial protest—one that had done very little good—she gave in. She still hadn’t gotten her bearings. The place looked more like an estate than a palace, but the interior was certainly lavish enough to qualify as palatial.

“We’re on the second floor, in the back of the building,” he told her. She heard weariness in his voice, although there were no visible signs of it. His shoulders were still straight, his gaze alert as he assessed their surroundings. “Our quarters are directly above the kitchen area.”

“Where are we located from the president’s quarters?”

“He has the entire floor above us. Not ideal, but at least we don’t have to fear infiltration through the windows. If someone wants to get to him at night, they’d have to get through several layers of security.”

“Security that we can’t trust,” she reminded him. The precariousness of their situation was disquieting. If Cabrerra had been acting alone, de la Reyes was as safe in his palace as he could be anywhere. But if his superior was involved…“If Gonzalez turns out to be dirty, the entire presidential guard is suspect.” And if the drug dealer Ramirez had gotten to two individuals so close to the San Baltes president, it was a wonder de la Reyes had survived this long.

She made a mental note to mention the drug dealer’s name to Samuelson when she returned. If Ramirez was intent in keeping the region unstable, he might not be above financing terrorists acts toward that end. Not for the first time, she wondered how much the DHS agent already knew. He hadn’t told her all the details in his possession. She could figure that much.

“We assume nothing,” Cael agreed. He stopped before a door and reached to open it for her. “But I thought the attempt today by the men in the Jeep was encouraging.”

Ignoring the opulent bedroom before her, she stared hard at him. “Encouraging. The way an earthquake is encouraging? A train wreck?”

He didn’t smile, but his face lightened a fraction. Leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb, he folded his arms. “Poor choice of words, maybe. But the fact that another attempt was made before de la Reyes made it to the palace makes me think this place isn’t seen as vulnerable. Either Ramirez doesn’t have anyone else with easy access to de la Reyes, or the president’s security makes an attempt here seem high risk. Either would be good news for us. Even if Gonzalez is involved, perhaps Cabrerra was his only accomplice.”

Although she didn’t share his optimism, she didn’t contradict him. “I’m assuming you’ve taken precautions with the guard personnel since we haven’t cleared any of them yet.”

He stifled a yawn. The gesture made him seem a bit more human. Up until now, she’d been half convinced the man was part machine. “Gonzalez is bound and confined to quarters. One of us will have to be posted outside until the evidence condemns or clears him. We’ve got nationals at every entrance of the palace, stationed three deep every twelve feet. If someone got past the outer perimeter of security, he’d have to get past a slug of armed guards. The chances are minimal that every one of the guards stationed at a given entrance is corrupt. I feel good about our security for the short term.”

She looked at him with renewed respect. “You’ve had some experience with this sort of thing.”

Cael crossed one booted foot over the other. “Five years.”

“And before that.” She didn’t know what made her continue to press. “Navy SEALs or Marine Recon?” There was a flicker in his eyes, his only reaction. “Could be Rangers, I suppose, although you don’t strike me as the army type.”

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