Bound by Honor (30 page)

Rodrigo murmured, “Well, whether or not Cobb recognizes me, I don't want to risk being apprehended while Lopez is still loose. I can't do any good in prison.”

“You were never here,” Eb replied, tongue-in-cheek.

“Absolutely,” Cy agreed. “I haven't seen you in years.”

Micah Steele lifted one huge hand to his eyes. “Forgot my glasses,” he murmured. “I couldn't recognize my own brother without them.”

“You don't wear glasses, and you don't have a brother,” Cy reminded him.

Micah shrugged. “No wonder I couldn't recognize him.” He grinned.

Harley listened to the byplay, wondering how these men could seem so calm and unconcerned after what they'd all been through. He was sick to his stomach and shaking inside. He was putting on a good enough front to fool everyone else apparently, though. That was some small compensation.

“Get going,” Eb motioned to Rodrigo. “Kennedy's heading this way.”

Rodrigo nodded. “I'll be around if you need me again.”

“We'll remember,” Cy said. “But it won't be infiltrating Lopez's gang next time.”

“No, it damned sure won't,” Micah Steele said with ice in his deep voice. “Next time, we'll go at him head-on, and he won't walk away.”

“I will count the days.” Rodrigo melted back into the darkness before Kennedy came around the barn and paused beside the small group.

“The four of you had better do a quick vanishing act,” Kennedy told them. “Cobb's over there asking a lot of questions about you guys, and he won't overlook a breach of departmental procedure. Since he outranks me, that wouldn't be good. As far as I'm concerned, officially, you were special agents undercover and I don't know who you are for your own protection. You infiltrated Lopez's gang and took a powder the minute the firefight was over. Since I never knew your names, I couldn't confirm your involvement.” He gave them a big grin. “Unofficially, thanks for your help. At least we've managed to shut down one of Lopez's little en
terprises.” His eyes narrowed. “The man you dropped in the barn,” Kennedy added, talking to Cy, “was the one who popped a cap on Walt Monroe. We've been hoping to happen onto him. Cobb says he'll go down for murder one, and I guarantee he'll make it stick. Monroe was one of his new recruits. He doesn't like many people. He liked Walt.”

“I'll pass that along to his widow,” Cy said. “She'll be glad.”

He nodded. “Walt was a good man.” He looked around. “I only wish we'd had something really nasty to pin on these guys. Distribution of cocaine would have suited me better than distribution of marijuana.”

“Yes,” Cy agreed, “but even if this was small pickings, it will hurt Lopez to have a hefty portion of his transportation force out of action, not to mention the lab he set up next to his beehives on my back property line. He's lost a big investment here tonight, in manpower, material and unrecoverable goods. He'll really be out for blood now. None of us will be safe until we get Lopez himself.”

“Dream on,” Kennedy said quietly. “He's more slippery than a greased python.”

“Even pythons can be captured.” Micah Steele's eyes glittered through his mask. “I've got a few friends in Nassau. We'll see what we can do about Lopez.”

“I didn't hear you say that,” Kennedy replied.

“Just as well,” Micah chuckled. “Since I was never here.”

“There's a lot of that going around,” Kennedy murmured. “Get going before Cobb gets a good look at you. I'll take it from here.”

Eb nodded and the others joined him for a quick jaunt back to the Johnson place where they'd left the truck.

Harley hadn't said a single word. Eb and Cy and Micah talked about Lopez and discussed options for getting to him. Harley sat and looked out the window.

It wasn't until Eb dropped the two men off at Cy Parks's ranch, several hundred yards from the house, that Cy was able to get a good look at his foreman.

Harley had the expression now, the one any combat veteran would recognize immediately. The experience tonight had taken the edge off his youth, his impulsive nature, his bravado. He'd matured in one night, and he'd never be the same again.

“Now,” Cy told him quietly, “look in a mirror. You'll see what was missing when you were talking about your ‘exploits' on the mercenary training expedition. This is the real thing, Harley. Men don't fall and then get back up again. The blood is real. The screams are real. What you saw tonight is the face of war, and no amount of money or fame is worth what you have to pay for it in emotional capital.”

Harley's head turned. He looked at his boss with new eyes. “You were one of them,” he said. “That's what you did before you came here and started ranching.”

“That's right,” Cy said evenly. “I've killed men. I've watched men die. I've watched children die, fighting in wars not of their making. I did it for fame and glory and money. But nothing I have now is worth the price I paid for it.” He hesitated. “Nothing,” he added, “except that woman in my house right now. She's worth dying for.”

Harley managed a wan smile. “I could have gotten you all killed tonight, because I didn't know what I was doing.”

“But you didn't get us killed,” Cy returned. “And when the chips were down, you conquered your fear and kept going. That's the real definition of courage.” He put a big, heavy hand on the other man's shoulder. “You have a way with ranch management, Harley. Believe me, it's a better path than hiring yourself out to whatever army needs foreign help. At the very least, you accumulate fewer bullet wounds.”

Harley nodded. “So I saw. Good night, boss.”

“Harley.”

The younger man turned.

“I've never been prouder of you than I was tonight,” Cy said quietly.

Harley tried to speak, couldn't, and settled for a jerky smile and a nod before he walked away.

Cy walked on toward the house, smiling faintly as he contemplated the movement of the curtains in the living-room window.

Before he even reached the porch, Lisa was out the front door and flying toward him. He caught her easily as she propelled herself from the second step. He folded her close, whirled her around and kissed her with his whole heart.

She held on to him for dear life, tears raining down her face as she thanked God that he'd come back to her in one piece.

“Can I keep you?” she whispered at his lips as he picked her up and carried her inside.

His heart jumped wildly. “Keep me?” he murmured, kicking the door shut with his foot. “Try to get rid of me…!”

She smiled under the fierce hunger of his mouth, sa
voring its coolness, its beloved contours, as he carried her into the bedroom and kicked that door shut as well. She could feel the adrenaline surging through his powerful body even before she felt the aftereffects of passion in his hungry, devouring kisses. She had a feeling that it was going to be the most explosively sensual night of their married lives. And she was right.

T
WO FEVERISHLY EXCITING
hours later, Lisa lay trembling against the powerful body beside hers in the tangled covers of Cy's big bed. She stretched and moaned helplessly as the movement triggered delicious little aftershocks of pleasure.

“If you weren't already pregnant,” he murmured huskily, “you would be, after that.”

She lifted herself up and propped her forearms on his damp, hair-roughened, deeply scarred chest. She brushed her mouth against one of the scars lovingly. “I went back to the doctor again yesterday,” she confessed.

“Why?” He was concerned now, his green eyes narrowing on her face.

She traced his hard mouth with her fingertips. “To have a sonogram to date the pregnancy and to have some blood work done.” She looked straight into his eyes. “The baby is yours, Cy.”

He shivered. She could feel the ripple of muscle go right down him. “What?” he asked.

“I'm only a few weeks along. That means the baby is yours—not Walt's.” She slid down beside him and pillowed her cheek on his chest, letting one slender, pretty leg slide over his muscular, hairy one. “He told me he
did some checking and the results from my first pregnancy test after Walt died were switched with someone else's. It was a mix-up at the lab. That explains why I haven't had any pregnancy symptoms until now.”

He stroked her long hair absently. “I can't believe it.”

“Me, either. But it makes sense. I didn't know, but before we married, Walt…had a vasectomy. I checked with his doctor to get information on Walt's RH factor.”

Every tendon in his body pulled tight. He rolled over and looked down into her flushed face incredulously.

“He said he didn't want children,” she confessed. “The doctor said that he wanted to make sure he didn't have any. The doctor wanted him to tell me. He never did.”

He was speechless with wonder. His baby. She was carrying his baby. He thought of his late wife and the child she'd borne that belonged to another man. He'd married Lisa believing that she was pregnant with her dead husband's child. But here he was with a miracle. He was going to be a biological father, for the first time in his life. He felt moisture sting his eyes as his big, lean hand smoothed over her flat stomach gently.

The expression on his face made her feel warm inside, safe, cocooned. “No need to ask if you're pleased,” she said in a tender, amused tone.

He laughed self-consciously. “Pleased? I'm ecstatic. I don't suppose my feet will touch the ground for weeks.”

She smiled and pressed close. “Mine won't, either, and not only because of the baby.”

“Why else, then?” he teased.

She sighed, drawing her fingers across his mouth. “Because you love me.”

He didn't hesitate or deny it. He only smiled. “Sure of that, are you?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

She linked her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth gently to his damp throat. “It shows, in so many ways. All the time.”

His fingers tangled contentedly in her long hair. “Like what you feel about me shows,” he murmured, holding her closer.

“Does it?”

“We nurture each other,” he said softly. “I never realized married people could be close like this, tender like this, loving like this. I've been standing outside warm houses all my life, looking in, and now I'm right inside by the fireplace.” His arms contracted. His face nuzzled gently against hers. “I love you with all that I am, all I ever will be. More than my life.”

She moaned and pressed closer, shivering. “I love you more than my life, too,” she breathed at his lips. “I'm going to give you a son, Cy.”

“And a daughter,” he whispered back, delighted. “And a few others, assorted.”

She smiled against his mouth. “You'll be a wonderful daddy.”

He kissed her with aching tenderness, almost overwhelmed with emotion. Out of such tragedy and anguish had come this woman, this angel, in his arms. He was still amazed that she could love him, want him, need him as she did, with his past, with his scarred body and scarred emotions. He'd never dared hope for so much
in his life. He closed his eyes and thanked God for the biggest miracle he'd ever had.

“I'll take care of you as long as I live, Lisa.”

“And I'll take care of you as long as I do,” she murmured happily. “I hope we live a hundred years together.”

He laughed softly and agreed, drowning in the warm delight of her body curled so close into his. It was unbearably sweet to love, to really love, and be loved in return.

Her leg moved sensuously against the inside of his and she felt his breath go jerky. She was more sure of herself now, eager for new lessons, new techniques, new adventures with this man, this winter soldier, she loved.

“Cy?” she whispered as her hand smoothed over his chest and then steadily down.

It was hard to talk. “What?” he managed in a husky tone.

“I want you to teach me.”

“Teach you…what?” he bit off as her hand moved again.

“How to please you.”

He would have answered her, if he'd been able. But his soft groan and the shivering of his powerful body as he eased over hers were more than enough to convince her that she was pleasing him already. She stretched like a contented cat under the warm, sinuous press of his lean hips and then moaned as the fever burned so high that she thought she might become ashes in his arms. Life had never been so sweet. And this was only the tip of the iceberg, the very beginning of their marriage. She pressed her mouth into his and held on tight, following him into the fire.

 

W
ITH
L
OPEZ'S
J
ACOBSVILLE
connection closed down, and all his local assets seized by the feds, it seemed a good guess that the drug lord would set up operations elsewhere. But he still had people, unknown people, acting as his eyes and ears. He also had someone inside the federal agency, Rodrigo had said, to tip him off about drug busts. Cy worried about who it was. Cy worried more about another possible attempt on Lisa, after the successful sneak attack on Lopez's shipment of marijuana.

Cy had gone to Eb's ranch at his friend's request to discuss future plans, and they were talking over cups of black coffee in the living room when Micah Steele came into the room. He was taller, bigger than both the other men. He had thick, straight, medium blond hair cut conventionally short. He was wearing a beige Armani suit that seemed perfect for his tall frame. It made his dark eyes look even darker. He wore a watch like Eb's on his left wrist and no other jewelry. Thirty-six years old, the former CIA agent spoke several languages fluently and had a temper that was explosive and quiet. Dutch van Meer used to say that Micah could get more results with a steady look than he could with a weapon.

“Why are you still in town?” Cy asked curiously.

“That's what I asked you over to tell you.” Eb grimaced. “We've still got problems.”

“When have we had anything else lately?” Cy said with resignation.

“The word is that Lopez's bosses in Colombia think he's slipping. First, he got arrested. Then he lost a shipment to the Coast Guard. We cost him a tidy sum in men and equipment here, not to mention marijuana. Yesterday, another group of his men were driving plastic bags
of cocaine paste in several transfer trailer trucks bearing the logo of a grocery store chain. The DEA was tipped off, probably by Rodrigo, and the feds got all the trucks plus their cargo. The haul would have been worth millions, if not billions, in crack cocaine sales if it had been processed and put out on the streets. It's the largest confiscation by the DEA in years. Lopez's bosses are furious. They're ready to dump Lopez, and he's cut some sort of deal to keep his connection. The word is, he's making plans to eliminate the obstacles to his local smuggling traffic.”

“That's no real surprise,” Eb pointed out.

Micah's dark eyes narrowed. “No. But I didn't expect this quite so soon. He can't get to either of you without some difficulty, now that his operation here has been shut down. Any group of strangers in town would stick out like sore thumbs, and the local authorities are on alert. But one of my contacts said that Callie and my father might become targets, and that the last he heard, Lopez was going to call in a mechanic. One man, alone, might succeed where a larger group failed.”

It went without saying that a “mechanic” meant a professional killer. “Why your family and not ours?” Cy asked.

Micah leaned against the mantel above the fireplace in Eb's study. He smiled mockingly, looking more elegant than a male model with his striking good looks. “You only helped shut down a small operation of Lopez's. But I tipped the DEA guys about the multimillion dollar cocaine shipment that was confiscated.”

Cy whistled. “Did Rodrigo pass that tidbit along?”

“Not Rodrigo,” came the reply. “It was a last act of de
fiance by his cousin, who,” he added grimly, “is now dead. They pulled him out of a vat of industrial chemicals. They were only able to identify him by dental records.”

“Any idea where Rodrigo is?” Eb wanted to know.

“Hiding out in Aruba, I gather from my sources. But he may not be safe, even so. Lopez has a long reach. He's got people everywhere.”

“Plus an informant with the feds who's spilling the beans to Lopez about our government's attempts to bring him down,” Cy added.

“That's how Lopez knew I blew the whistle on him. You'd better believe that Kennedy and Cobb are doing their best to find out who it is,” Micah replied. “But I expect it's someone in a high position who's beyond suspicion. It won't be easy to ferret him out.”

“He's risking a lot on Lopez's account, whoever he is,” Eb mused.

“Lopez is paying him a million a tip,” Micah interjected.

“Well, that would make it worth the risk for most people, I'm afraid,” Eb said.

Micah dropped down into an easy chair and lit a cigar. Eb turned on the smokeless ashtray and handed it to him. Micah chuckled, taking it in one big hand.

“That will kill you,” Eb said with a grin.

“In my line of work, bullets will probably get me long before smoking does. Besides, I don't expect to be here long.” He checked the big watch on his wrist. “Callie gets off work in five minutes. I'm going to waylay her before she goes to pick up Dad at the senior citizen center.”

His face changed when he mentioned his former
stepsister. His dark eyes narrowed and his jaw went taut. He smoked absently, his mind obviously far away.

“If worse comes to worst, you could take her and your father down to Nassau with you and keep her out of Lopez's reach,” Eb suggested.

Micah gave him a hellish glare. “Neither of them will talk to me right now, much less agree to go to Nassau. Haven't you heard?” he drawled. “I'm anybody's friend but theirs.”

“You always start the fights,” Eb pointed out. “You can't blame Callie for defending herself.”

Micah took another draw from the cigar and thumped ashes in the ashtray. “I blame her for everything,” he said icily. “If it hadn't been for her and her damned mother, my father would want to see me occasionally.”

“Surely he doesn't still blame you for his divorce?” Cy remarked.

“He blames me for everything.” He put out the cigar impatiently and turned the smokeless ashtray off. “I blame her mother.”

“Whatever happened to her?” Eb asked.

“I have no idea,” Micah said abruptly. “She dumped Callie and left town even before the divorce was final. She hired a lawyer to bring the papers to her in England so that she wouldn't have to see any of us again. Some mother.”

“Callie never talks about her,” Eb said thoughtfully. “It's not surprising. Her mother treated her like the hired help. Callie wasn't pretty enough or sophisticated enough to please her mama.”

“There's nothing wrong with Callie,” Micah replied absently. “She's naïve, of course, but looks aren't that
important. She's a good woman, in the true sense of the word. I should know,” he added with a harsh laugh. “I've left a trail of the other kind behind me over the years.”

“I won't argue with that,” Eb had to agree. “They used to follow you around like flies after honey. Really beautiful women.”

“Window dressing,” Micah said carelessly. “Underneath they all had one thing in common—greed. Being rich and single has its drawbacks as well as its perks.”

There was a brief silence while all of them recalled other times, other places.

“How's Lisa, by the way?” Micah asked. “Is the baby all right?”

“The test results got mixed when she had the first test, just after Walt was killed,” Cy replied. He began to smile. “But she's pregnant now.”

Eb scowled. “With Walt's baby. I know.”