The Mercenary Read online

  “Why’d you tell them I was your husband?” His voice was quiet. He didn’t want the question to carry.

  She paused in the act of pulling aside the mat. “Because it’s the only way they’d forgive me,” she said after a moment. Then she ducked through the doorway and was gone.

  “I have to do something!” Haley Mercado aka Daisy Parker raked back her blonde hair with hands that trembled. “She’s my baby. It’s not right!”

  Sean Collins, the FBI agent assigned to her case, stood square in the doorway of the office. “You cannot come out of hiding. Everything that can be done to find Lena is being done. Don’t let that distract you from our task here.”

  Haley stared at the man in disbelief. “My daughter,” she snapped with fury, “has been kidnapped and you don’t want me to be distracted?”

  He had the grace to look apologetic. “I know this is difficult for you. But you’ve come so far. We’re so close. We need the final details of the smuggling scheme. And you’re the only one who can get them for us if we’re finally going to put the Texas mob on ice.”

  “She’ll have her first birthday on March 15,” Haley whispered, hardly listening to Sean. Her arms ached to hold her baby girl again. The past months of seeing her at a distance whenever Josie brought the baby by the LSCC had barely sustained her. But she’d comforted herself with the knowledge that her daughter was being very well cared for, and was safe. “Haven’t I given up enough,” she asked, not really expecting an answer. “My mother is dead. God knows where Ricky is now. And Luke—” she couldn’t continue.

  “Lena will be found,” Sean said again. “But if you come out of hiding now, when she is found, she may not have a mother still alive to come home to.”

  Haley sank down on the chair and buried her face in her hands. She’d never felt more alone in her life.

  Would this nightmare never end?

  After a few days of recuperating, Tyler was impatient to be up and around. Since he’d regained consciousness, he’d met a parade of people who were Marisa’s relations. Brothers. Cousins. Sisters. Nieces. Nephews. Her grandmother, who didn’t speak a lick of English, was one of the few people around who didn’t look at him as if he were an oddity from another planet.

  Maybe because she’d been the one to sponge his naked body when he’d been in a tearing fever.

  Even now, it nearly made him cringe to think of the tiny, wizened old woman doing that. Worse, to know that Marisa, as his “wife” had been the other to tend to him while he’d been out of it.

  He didn’t have a problem being naked with Marisa. He just wished he’d been more aware of it, so he might have enjoyed it a little more. His lips twisted at the thought.

  Instead Marisa had slept on a floor mat beside his bed every night. In the morning she’d stow the mat and rumple “her” side of the bed, to make it appear as if they’d slept together.

  It was enough to drive a sane man around the bend, all this focus on whether or not his “wife” shared his bed.

  But, maybe he’d already gone around the bend before Marisa had weaseled her seductive way into the center of his thoughts. Even now, sitting on a metal folding chair, of all things, located at the rear of the house that overlooked the fields—vegetables for their own family and those in the village and sugarcane that they sold at market—he couldn’t help wondering where she was. What she was doing.

  And he couldn’t blame it on the fact that he’d been miles off in his estimation of the life that she’d grown up with. He’d watched her with her family and as he’d done so, he’d gained a little understanding. Not because he understood a hell of a lot of what they said. But some things went beyond language.

  And this Mezcayan family, who’d been untraditional enough to allow their eldest child—Marisa—to go off to school in neighboring Belize where the educational system was much more advanced than Mezcaya’s, was rigidly traditional when it came to the “duties” of its family members. Which seemed to be, namely, getting married and having lots of babies. And as far as Tyler could tell, aside from Inez who was still a teenager, Marisa was the only one to have not fulfilled that expectation.

  The only thing that Tyler wasn’t quite sure of was where Marisa’s goals fit into the picture.

  The fact that he was even interested in what Marisa’s goals were should have yanked on his reins but good. What the hell did it matter to him? He was just stuck with her company on this mission.

  Unfortunately the declaration wasn’t ringing quite as true as he’d like.

  Then his senses picked up Marisa behind him before she even spoke. “You’ve been up nearly all day today,” she said. “Perhaps you should rest now.”

  He looked back to see she was carrying a plump, toothless baby on her hip. He figured he ought to know which sibling the child belonged to, but he didn’t. Busying his mind on figuring that out was wiser than letting his attention focus too hard on Marisa.

  She’d obviously borrowed some clothes from someone; maybe her younger sister, Inez. Which would account for the brief denim shorts that were a little too loose in the hips, and the skimpy red top that was a little too snug.

  Even in this secluded corner of Mezcaya, fashion for teenaged girls was apparently alive and well.

  “I’ve rested enough,” he said and deliberately looked away from Marisa’s bare legs. He was about to climb out of his skin from being so inactive for so long. He didn’t want to think about what other reason he had for being so restless.

  “You’re anxious to be on your way.”

  There was little point in denying it. “I’m healing up.” If he didn’t have to haul anyone up a cliff face, he figured he’d be fine. And if he did have to haul someone, he figured he’d manage. He saw the skepticism in her eyes. “Your faith in my ability is heart-warming, M.”

  “You’ll accomplish anything you set out to do. I have no doubts about that. But you are still healing.”

  Tyler looked out across the rich fields. “I guarantee you I’m in better shape than Westin is. And every hour that passes—” He didn’t finish. There was no need to.

  Marisa sighed faintly. She touched his shoulder, a fleeting touch before she was moving away, putting more distance between them as she jiggled the baby. He wondered if she was thinking about that day when she’d practically torn off his shirt in her drive to touch him.

  “You look good with a kid on your hip,” he said abruptly.

  Her lips stretched into a smile and she nuzzled the baby’s neck. “Nicholas is a darling, isn’t he?”

  “As far as kids go,” he said.

  She looked at him, amusement making her eyes dance. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone whose expressions were so revealing.

  “Oh, Murdoch. Don’t you ever want to be—What did you call it? Johnny Appleseed.”

  He shrugged. “Kids are a lot of responsibility.”

  “And a lot of joy.”

  He had a brief flash of his own childhood. “Not for everybody.”

  Her gaze seemed to go inward for a moment and her amusement faded. “Yes. That is very true.”

  “Why aren’t you settled with a bunch of bambinos? Didn’t the madman want kids?”

  He couldn’t tell what she thought about him bringing up her ex-fiancé. “The only things my ex wanted were power and control,” she said with a practiced shrug.

  “And you.” He didn’t know why he kept at it. “He wanted you.”

  Her lips twisted. “Well, he certainly didn’t want anyone else to want me.”

  “Possessive sort.”

  “That’s one word for it.” She shifted the baby around and grinned into his cherubic face, making it clear that she didn’t intend to say more on the subject. “If you don’t want to laze around, then maybe you’d like to go out for a walk.”

  “Are you talking to the toothless wonder there, or to me?”

  “Take your pick,” she said. “Either way, I’ll have a handsome fellow accompanying me.” She cas
t him a half smiling, apologetic look as she continued, “My mama tells me that I’ve been neglecting my husband while we’ve been here, and that I should lure you out for some exercise.”

  “The kind that would put a baby in your belly?” He shrugged when she gaped at him. “Inez talks a lot when she’s bored. She said your parents and grandmother think a baby is just what we need to keep my attentions where they belong. I gotta say, M., that your family doesn’t hesitate to share its opinions.”

  Marisa closed her eyes. The next time she saw Inez, she’d have a hard time not throttling the girl. She’d come to expect such comments from her mother and father, even her abuela on occasion. But from her baby sister? “I’m sorry if she embarrassed you.”

  Tyler laughed softly, and Marisa went still, unable to believe she was actually hearing laughter coming from his lips. “Smiles and now laughter? Murdoch, if I didn’t know better, I might think you actually are relaxing here.”

  “Well, mi esposa, there is relaxed, and then there’s relaxed.” His gaze was deceptively lazy, reminding her of a big languid cat rhythmically swishing his tail, looking for all the world as if he were content to endlessly lie in the sun, when in reality he was only biding his time until the perfect moment to strike.

  Her stomach tightened and to distract herself, she tickled Nicholas’s neck, making the baby gurgle and grin. “You probably shouldn’t be out traipsing around, anyway, no matter what they say.” Keeping her voice calm was no small task. “If you go lie down, I’ll bring you some juice.”

  “I’m not five years old with a tummy ache,” he countered dryly. He rose from the chair, reminding her yet again of that big dangerous cat.

  Marisa moistened her lips and jiggled Nicholas. His little hands waved around, batting at her arms. “I think Diego is around here somewhere.” She’d seen her brother a little earlier. “You could—”

  “Give me that kid,” Tyler interrupted her, sliding Nicholas out of her arms with an ease she would have never expected. “Before you give him a kidney shake.”

  Marisa’s arms slowly fell to her sides. She watched Tyler plunk Nicholas against his wide, bare chest. The bruising around his ribs had very nearly disappeared. His large hand easily cradled the baby’s back, and the baby…well, he was a good-natured little boy, and he seemed fascinated with the unfamiliar man who held him. She barely kept herself from telling him that he, too, looked good with a child in his arms.

  Then Tyler held out his hand to Marisa. “Exercise.”

  She ran her tongue along the edge of her teeth, willing her heartbeat to just settle right back down. “Tyler—”

  He knew exactly where her thoughts had gone. She could see it in the humorous glint in his obsidian eyes. “The drooler here can chaperone,” he murmured. “Come on. Show me where you ran around as a kid.”

  She had spent hours with this man, most of them intensely disliking him. So why should she feel as if she’d been presented with an unexpected treat? Her hand trembled faintly when she tentatively took his outstretched one, and she hoped that he didn’t notice. “You really must be bored,” she commented.

  His fingers tightened around hers and he tugged her out from the shade of the house. “Maybe I’m curious about how you got from this—” his chin jerked, encompassing the simple house and all that it implied “—to running around with Gerald Hyde-Smith.”

  Marisa’s feet dragged to an abrupt halt. “I never told you his name.” She pulled on her hand, but Tyler’s hold was firm. Gentle, but firm.

  “Your grandmother did.”

  “My grandmother’s English is about as good as your Mezcayan.”

  “Oh, the words she surrounded the guy’s name with were pretty universal.” He tugged until she started walking again with him. “I got the distinct impression she wasn’t impressed.”

  “I wish my parents had been similarly unimpressed.” The words were out before Marisa could think. She quickened her step, heading up the small ridge that ran between her family home and the dirt road.

  Still, Tyler didn’t release her hand. She automatically turned in the direction of the village. The dirt road was hard-packed and rutted from years of rains and droughts and sturdy trucks being driven up and down it by the locals.

  “They look at you, Marisa, and it’s obvious how proud of you they are. They adore you.”

  “I don’t know why you would even notice such a thing,” she said. Besides, she knew how untrue it was. Her mother had made it plain long ago that she was most certainly not proud of her when Marisa had wanted to come home after Gerald, and her mother had told her to stay away.

  “Noticing things is just one of the things I do.”

  “And what are the other things you do?” She quickly waved her free hand. “Never mind. I’m probably not to be trusted with that top-secret stuff.”

  Tyler tugged her hand, pulling her around to face him there on the road. “I was wrong about that.” He wasn’t sure when he’d come to that decision. If it was before Blondie had stuck him with the knife, or after. He supposed, in the end, it hardly mattered when. “I’m still not sure about what’s really motivating you, but I know you’re not—”

  “Part of the enemy?” she supplied in a dulcet tone that made him immediately wary.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “And how did you come to this great conclusion? Because I finally proved myself enough to earn your trust while I was blindly traipsing after you as we headed everywhere but toward la Fortuna?”

  There were times in a man’s life when he just knew he was stepping into a mine field. And right then, Tyler figured he must have his foot hovering right over a big ol’ Bouncing Betty. And damned if he knew why. “Yeah.”

  She twisted her wrist, pulling her hand away from his. “I cannot tell you how moved I am.” She began walking again. The curling ends of her hair bobbed about her slender waist and dust puffed up around her sandals with each step.

  Nicholas patted his jaw. Tyler looked down at the boy. “There is no figuring out women, kid. Accept it now. Save yourself a headache when you get older.”

  Nicholas agreed. Tyler could tell by the spit bubble the kid blew.

  Tyler headed after Marisa, his longer stride easily catching her. “You didn’t trust me, either, honey,” he countered flatly. “So don’t get all picky about the reasons why I changed my mind. Hell, you still don’t trust me.”

  Her lips parted. Her eyes flashed. “That is so untrue.”

  “You’re telling me you don’t compare me to Hyde-Smith? You don’t expect me to behave the same as he did, to pull whatever kind of crap he did that put that wary look in your eyes?”

  “You’re nothing like Gerald.”

  “That’s not what you said a week ago.”

  “I was wrong!”

  “Well, so was I.” Nicholas fussed, and Tyler realized he was practically yelling. He awkwardly patted the kid’s back, hoping he wasn’t going to start caterwauling. He lowered his voice. “Women I’ve known haven’t been real trustworthy, okay? I got so I didn’t want to work with them.” He didn’t know why admitting it to her felt like having his skin peeled back. He hadn’t made any secret of his opinion about working with women since Sonya turned traitor. “It spilled over on you. I admit it. I was wrong. Satisfied?” He realized he was practically jiggling the kid out of his diaper again and deliberately stopped.

  “What did she do to you?”

  “Who?”

  “Sonya.”

  “Screwed me and her country over for thirty pieces of silver. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Marisa was staring at him, her eyes wide.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he repeated. And knew it was true. Somewhere along the line, Sonya’s defection had ceased to hurt. Oh, it was definitely there, angering him that she’d sold them all out. But the piece of him that had been personally wounded, the piece of him that had looked at a woman he’d thought he’d loved yet who’d cared nothing at all in return—
not for him and sure as hell not for the country she was supposed to be serving—that piece no longer existed.

  He looked at Marisa. He was ten years older than she. He’d seen things, lived through things—even done things—that would give most people nightmares. Yet there was something deep down in her eyes that spoke of her own world-weariness, of her own experiences that were none too pretty.

  He took a step toward her. And another.

  She threw back her head, standing her ground despite the turmoil in her expression. He wondered how she’d come by that ability; if she’d always possessed it, or if it had come at a dear cost.

  He lowered his head. Still her gaze remained locked with his. And in her eyes he saw all the things he felt inside.

  The tangle of want.

  The knowledge that some things were better left untouched.

  The awareness that this was something neither could resist reaching for.

  Her lips parted softly. He could feel her soft breath, warm on his mouth, bare inches above hers.

  “How bad did he hurt you?”

  At that, her lashes fell. She took a step back, her head lowered. “He ruined me.”

  “You’re not ruined, Marisa. Not at all. You’re too strong.”

  “If I were, I wouldn’t have let him sweep me off my feet the way he did. I would have seen through his charming act to the real person underneath.”

  “He’s assigned to the embassy in D.C.?”

  “Not when we met. But yes, eventually. As was I. Until his jealousy cost me my career. And my family.” She finally looked up, and Tyler could see the tears that had collected in her eyes. “The only reason my mother didn’t turn me away now is because she believes you are my husband. My American husband who is rich enough to have his own plane. It makes up for her embarrassment over my scandalous affairs and subsequent breakup.”

  “There were no affairs.”

  “Gerald didn’t believe that. Every time I had to have any sort of dealing with my co-workers, who were nearly all male, he was suspicious. He wanted me to quit work, to have babies and be the proper little wife. Only, how could I do that when the man never touched me?” Her throat worked, her cheeks grew red. “He wanted to control everything about me. What I wore. What I said. What I thought. And when I refused to cooperate, when I continued with my work, he spread hideous lies about me.”