Charades (20 page)

     “I’m Mercedes Fuentes. My father was Pedro Fuentes. I believe he may have been related to you.”

     Chamorro smiled even more warmly and took her hand in both of his, raising it to his lips. Jealousy had never been a part of Wulf’s life, but since meeting Mercy he felt he was on a first name basis with the green monster.

     “I am honored to meet my baby sister’s granddaughter,” Chamorro told her. “Sylvia treasured Pedro, her youngest, and was heartbroken when he left for the United States. She still misses him every day. When I alerted her of your call, she cried to think someone who knew Pedro would visit me. She will be even more overjoyed when she finds out who you are.” Chamorro looked pleadingly at her. “Please say you will come and be our guest at our ranch in Chihuahua.”

     He glanced at Wulf and added, “Of course, this invitation includes you also,
señor
. I assume by that ring on your finger you are
affiancéd
. No?”

     “No,” Mercy said.

     “Yes,” Wulf said at the same time, glaring at her. He’d had enough of this smooth Casanova. Mercy was swallowing his slick words hook, line, and sinker.

     Chamorro waited, looking at them both his eyebrows raised. “We were engaged,” Mercy began, “but then…well, things have changed. Drastically,” she said, gazing up at Wulf’s scowling face.

     “Señor Chamorro, allow me to introduce myself,” Wulf said, stepping in and speaking in perfect Spanish. It was times like these he thanked the benevolent fates for his talent in languages. “I’m Wulfgar Rheinhart, executive vice president of Steiger Oil, and Mercy’s fiancé,” he said, taking the reins of the conversation with the fluid ease of a born diplomat.

     “I am, of course, very pleased to make your acquaintance,” Chamorro said smoothly. He motioned them to seat themselves in front of the large fireplace. Before Chamorro could say anything, Wulf immediately fell into a lively exchange in Spanish with him.

     Although Wulf knew Mercy couldn’t follow their conversation, he could tell she understood enough to make her fume. He explained her denial of their engagement as mere, pre-marital jitters due to the stress of travel and fatigue. He further made light of the hazardous situation they’d just experienced by referring to Adolph as a bad-tempered, senile, old man.

     Although he’d pulled the rug out from under her, he’d only done it because she didn’t understand the danger he sensed in his gut. She was too naive and innocent to see the acquisitive light in Chamorro’s eyes.
Good God! If it was left up to her, she’d trust the devil himself.

     “Can we speak English?” Mercy interrupted. “I do not speak Spanish well.”

     “But, of course,” Ramon quickly assured her, looking both embarrassed and distressed. “Forgive my poor manners. I am just so very impressed with Mr. Rheinhart. His Spanish is excellent! You are fortunate to have someone so important and talented as your
novio
.”

     Mercy glared at Wulf. “You must forgive my
friend
. He’s inclined to run over me in his good intentions. However, I am tired from our encounter with granduncle Adolph.”

     She smiled warmly at Chamorro. “I can’t wait to see the rest of my family.”

     “Good save,” Wulf muttered under his breath at her in German. His admiration for her gutsiness and courage jumped another notch. But, whether she liked it or not, he planned to keep close tabs on her when they went to her family’s
hacienda
.

     Ramon gave her a sympathetic look. “I know Adolph Suarte, and I promise you, he will never be a problem to you again.”

     “Thank you, Uncle Ramon. You have no idea how good it feels to be with family again. Both my parents have passed away, and I’ve been alone for a while now.”

     Ramon took her hand in his. “My dear, you have a wealth of family here in Mexico. The Chamorro family is your family now.”

     Mercy’s eyes glistened, but Wulf’s earlier impression that Chamorro had a mercenary streak was even more strengthened. He had met too many men with this kind of smooth delivery.

     “Thank you,” Mercy said quietly. She looked at Wulf as though expecting him to defy her. He smiled at her, forcing his face into a bland mask.

     “Good,” Chamorro said, sounding relieved. “My private plane is waiting to fly us to the ranch. I look forward to escorting you to your grandmother. I also took the liberty of ordering us dinner, too. Please say you will come. It would mean so much to Sylvia and me.”

     Wulf clenched his jaw and fought down his jealousy. Chamorro looked and sounded so sincere. Maybe he wasn’t always sincere himself, but he damn sure knew sincerity when he saw it. Chamorro was anything but sincere.

     “I’m curious, Uncle Ramon,” Mercy asked. “Are there any of my father’s family members still living here in Mexico?”

     Ramon grew quiet for a moment before sighing. “There is no sense trying to hide it. The Fuentes family is a well-organized group of criminals. They are very dangerous.”

     So, Uncle Adolph was right about that, Wulf thought. At least Adolph didn’t bother to be insincere like Chamorro, nor did he pretend to be anybody’s friend.

     “Dangerous? Tell me more about them,” Mercy implored. “I find it hard to believe, knowing the kind of man my father was.”

     “It is not pretty, my dear. The Fuenteses have slippery fingers in the government as well as being responsible for a host of other illegal activities. Oh, they would probably welcome you into their midst, but I wouldn’t try to contact them if I were you.

     “Pedro left Mexico to avoid becoming like the rest of them. A dispute with another family killed his own father, you know.”

     “My father never talked about his family.” Mercy shook her head. “Poor Papa!”

     “When Sylvia fell in love with Carlos Fuentes, I knew he had a bad reputation, but I didn’t know the half of it. I feared for her life when I found out he was even worse than I thought.” He paused without elaborating.

     “Unfortunately, I could exercise no influence over her in those days. She lost her heart and her sanity to Carlos Fuentes. The Fuentes men are so extraordinarily handsome it has even given rise to the superstitious rumor that Lucifer founded the Fuentes family. They are very possessive and keep their women secluded from society.”

     “But that’s almost medieval,” Mercy said, looking shocked.

     Chamorro nodded. “After Sylvia and Carlos were married, I could not even see her. At first, I think she felt flattered by Carlos’s possessiveness, but she later told me she came to see it as a form of bondage. I doubt you would enjoy being part of that harem.” He looked pointedly at her.

     “I agree I have a mind of my own,” Mercy said, laughing, “but where does Papa’s family live?”

     “I will let Sylvia tell you the rest.”

     Wulf sensed Chamorro’s evasiveness. Unfortunately, Mercy was drinking it all up like water on a hot day. Her need for family he could understand. He’d been an only child, too.

     They left the building minutes later and piled into Ramon’s limo along with two security guards, both brandishing automatic weapons. Wulf tried to catch Mercy’s eye, but she purposely ignored him. Why did Chamorro need so much security? To protect himself from Adolph and the Fuentes family? Maybe, but it didn’t ring true for some reason.

     They picked up their bags from Steiger Oil’s private jet, climbed into the Chamorro family jet, and taxied down the runway, all in the space of about thirty-five minutes. Everything happened in such a blur Mercy wondered if she’d ever have a normal life again.

     Since meeting Wulf in Hazel’s office, her life had changed dramatically. Airports and private planes were common place to her now. She looked around with concern—it felt so luxurious, so decadent to travel so effortlessly. Maybe she wasn’t mousy Mercy anymore, but she didn’t belong in this rarefied atmosphere either.

     They enjoyed a light meal on Ramon’s jet. What kind of business was Ramon in that allowed him to maintain such an expensive lifestyle? But the thought flew out the window once they arrived at the Chihuahua airport, her excitement overshadowing her reservations. She could hardly wait to see her grandmother.

     A long black limo pulled up beside the jet, and a man in a business suit got out. He looked vaguely familiar, but Mercy couldn’t decide why until she realized he was a younger, taller, handsomer version of her Uncle Ramon. He introduced himself as Mario, Ramon’s third and youngest son.

     Mercy liked him immediately, from his self-effacing smile to his Old World manners, so much like Ramon’s.

     Wulf gritted his teeth as he watched Mercy greet her cousin. It was all he could do to restrain himself from bashing the young man’s face in. Furthermore, he didn’t like the way he kept holding Mercy’s hand, either. What was the need for that? His glare at the man earned him nothing but a smile and a wink. Hell, he hadn’t felt this jealous since Ben Ryder had danced that one dance with Mercy at the going-away party back in Texas.

     During the forty-five-minute ride to the Chamorro ranch, Ramon treated them to a narrative history of the Chamorro family: Their ancestors had come directly from Spain and had raised horses for almost four hundred years.

     “It doesn’t hurt that there is plenty of oil and gas on the ranch, too,” Mario explained with another wink at Wulf. “That’s what supports all those thoroughbred racing horses.”

     “Don’t forget that it is the thoroughbreds I started raising many years ago that have earned all the awards and prizes for the Chamorro ranch,” Ramon interjected.

     “I can’t wait to see the horses,” Mercy said. “Mama was an excellent equestrienne. She taught me everything I know.”

     “I’m anxious then for you to see my horses,” Ramon responded.

     “He knows each one by name,” Mario teased, “just like some Old World Spanish grandee. Watch out that he doesn’t bore you to death with their statistics.” Even Wulf had to admit Chamorro did, indeed, resemble an old grandee. He obviously loved the role as much as his land and his racing stock.

     It annoyed Wulf that he was beginning to like Mario, even though he kept touching Mercy in that typical Latin fashion. Quickly sandwiching himself in the conversation between Mario and Mercy, he took control for the rest of the ride. Mario was knowledgeable about the gas and oil side of the ranch, so they had a lot to discuss. If there was one thing Wulf knew, it was the oil and gas industry.

     The grandeur and understated elegance, particularly the landscape lighting of the shrubbery and trees surrounding the adobe walls, impressed and delighted Mercy.

     Ramon escorted her through the rancho gates, letting Mario and Wulf follow behind them. It’s almost too much to take in, she thought as she entered the large wooden patio gates of the hacienda. The beautiful old patio with its red brick tiles provided the perfect complement to the lush shrubs and plants hanging from the eaves and branches of the trees. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the cornucopia of floral scents.

     “It’s beautiful,” she said, opening her eyes and smiling at Ramon.

     He inclined his head. “It is your home.”

     The silver-haired old woman who stood in front of them with tears in her eyes had to be her grandmother. Mercy walked right into her outstretched arms.

     Disconcerted, Wulf watched their embrace. Until now, Mercy had depended on him. Now she had a whole family to rely on. Why would she need him?

     He eyed Ramon and Mario. Although Ramon’s face held no expression, Mario was grinning from ear to ear.

     Grandmother Sylvia pushed herself away from Mercy without relaxing her grip. “Have you eaten yet,
nieta
?” she asked.

     “We ate a lovely dinner on the plane, thank you.”

     “Then Ramon and Mario will entertain your young man and show him to his room while I show you to yours.” She tugged Mercy along after her. Sylvia tucked Mercy’s hand in the crook of her arm and started from the room. “We have much to talk about.”

     “Wait just a minute,” Wulf said, pulling Mercy back. “We need to talk,” he said as he dragged her out into the shadows of the patio.

     “What about?”

     “I don’t like it. I want you where I can see you.”

     Mercy’s face froze, her words cold as ice. “This is Mexico! We do
not
stay together in one room unless we are married.”

     “I don’t care. I still don’t like it.”

     “You don’t have to worry about me. This is
my family
.” She turned back to her grandmother. Wulf almost hit the adobe wall in frustration. For right now, he would let her go with her grandmother. Then he was going to get her and stay with her whether they liked it or not.

     “Don’t worry about her,
amigo
,” he heard Mario say as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Wulf swallowed hard as he turned to face Mario. He used to be able to camouflage his feelings. Now, every time he turned around he seemed to be a seething caldron of emotions. “She is safe here,” Mario assured him. “You may be used to having her near you at night, but my aunt has prepared her bedroom in the women’s wing. Your bedroom, of course, is on the opposite side of the house.”

     “What?”

     Mario clicked his tongue at him. “You’re not going to force me to go through the whole, boring, macho thing, are you?”

     Wulf stiffened. “I insist on seeing her again after they talk, whether you like it or not.”

     “Of course,” Mario agreed readily, “but why don’t we have a drink for now, shall we?”

     By the time Wulf drank the second or third sip from his glass, he knew he’d been drugged. But by then it was too late.

          At least tonight she would not have to fight her traitorous body, Mercy thought as she followed her grandmother to her bedroom. She would be protected from Wulf, but more importantly, she would be protected from herself!

     “You mustn’t worry about your
novio
,” her grandmother said as they walked down the long corridor. “He’ll have you for the rest of your life, but I have just found you, and I want you all to myself for a while.”