Hidden Agenda (25 page)

E
ve, strapped into a seat in the Blackhawk helicopter, stared at the ground as the aircraft rose powerfully above the earth. She waved to her uncle and the military team who had accompanied him to Mexico. Matt was nowhere to be seen, but she knew he stood at the window in the bedroom where they’d spent the night together. Their good-byes were unspoken because they’d silently demonstrated the depth of their love to each other.

She was too numbed to acknowledge her fear of flying as twin emotions of joy and sadness warred within her. She knew she would not experience the peace she sought until Chris and Matt were at her side.

The helicopter flight to Mexico City was accomplished in record time, and within half an hour Eve found herself on a jet bound for the United States.

She slept during the non-stop flight to Dulles Inter
national Airport and only awakened when the flight attendant shook her gently.

She deplaned and was met by a man who flashed a badge from the Justice Department. His identification got her through customs and he directed her to a car bearing official plates.

A driver expertly navigated the late afternoon Washington, D.C., traffic, and Eve stared at a lighted sign atop a bank flashing the date, time, and temperature.

She had left Washington March twenty-fifth and returned June second, and in only ten weeks she’d married, found herself pregnant, and gotten her firstborn back.

The driver turned down the quiet street where her aunt and uncle lived, and a shiver of excitement rushed through her. Chris! Her baby was home!

The driver stopped in front of an elegant town-house. Eve was out of the car before he turned off the engine. The front door opened as soon as her finger touched the doorbell.

Dorothy Blackwell held out her arms to her husband’s niece, holding her tightly against her ample, scented bosom. “He’s been waiting for you,” she whispered softly.

“Where is he?” Eve’s voice shook with raw emotion.

“Mama.”

The word was the single most precious word Eve had ever heard. Stepping away from her aunt, she stared down at the small child who’d been snatched from her.

Christopher Delgado looked more like his father than Eve remembered. He was the image of Alex, except for his eyes. The child had inherited her eyes.

Holding out her arms, she sank to her knees, and
she was not disappointed when Chris flung himself against her body. He was only three years old, but he hadn’t forgotten her.

“You still smell nice, Mama,” he said in Spanish.

Eve, blinking back tears, ruffled his curly hair. “And I thank you, Darling.”

“He speaks very little English,” Dorothy Blackwell stated.

“That shouldn’t be a problem, because my Spanish is a lot better than it was before I left.

“Did you eat on the plane, child?”

Eve rose to her feet, still holding her son’s hand. “In fact, I didn’t. I slept the entire trip.”

“I prepared a special dinner for you.”

“Thank you, Aunt Dot. This is a very special night and I have some very special news.”

Dorothy put an arm around Eve’s slim waist. “The news can wait. You’ve lost some weight, so that means we’ll eat first.”

Eve winked at Christopher. “Can you show me where the bathroom is so I can wash up?” she questioned in Spanish.

The young boy puffed out his narrow chest. “
Sí
, Mama.”

She followed the child to the bathroom, experiencing a peace she hadn’t felt in years.

Eve pressed her nose against the window as she had done as a child, watching the summer sun slip down beyond the horizon. It was the end of July, and Matt still hadn’t come for her.

Harry Blackwell had returned to the States two days after her arrival, with the news that Alejandro
Delgado had fled Mexico for an undisclosed country in South America.

His only mention of Mateo Arroyo was that he’d disappeared without a trace. Harry would not confirm or deny that he’d been killed.

Eve walked out of her bedroom and made her way down the stairs to her uncle’s study. She knocked on the closed door, then pushed it open.

Harry turned on his chair, frowning. “I know you were brought up with better manners than to enter a room without permission.”

She ignored Harry’s reprimand. “Where does Matt live?”

Harry cleared his throat several times. “I think he’s from Texas.”

“Not Texas,” she countered, walking slowly into the room with her hands on her hips. “Where does he live in New Mexico?”

“I don’t know, Honey.”

Eve stood over a seated Harry Blackwell. “Find out,
Uncle Harry
. And you don’t need me to tell you that you have your ways of finding out, do I?”

Harry saw the determination in the eyes of the woman who’d pledged her future to Matthew Sterling. “Eve, why don’t you just wait and let nature take its course? He’ll come to you when he can.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Something tells me that he
can’t
come to me, so I’m going to him.” She flashed a saccharine smile. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Same time, same place.”

Eve glanced down at the odometer, biting down on her lower lip. The attendant at the service station had
said she had to drive another twelve miles before she reached the Sterling ranch. She’d driven eleven, and in another mile she would see it.

Stealing a quick glance in the rearview mirror, she smiled. Christopher had fallen asleep the moment she’d driven away from the Las Cruces airport.

Since becoming reunited with her son, Eve had told him that she had remarried and there was a baby growing inside of her. The child was overjoyed when he realized he was going to have a brother or sister.

The brutal southwestern sun beat down on the windshield and she adjusted the air-conditioning. A pickup truck passed her and Eve caught a glimpse of a familiar profile. The man with the dark, wide-brimmed hat looked like Matt!

Eve brought the car to a screeching halt, and put it in reverse. The man in the pickup had maneuvered over to the side of the road, stopping at the same time she drew abreast of his vehicle.

The door to the pickup opened, followed by a sturdy cane. Then a booted foot emerged. The head and shoulders came next, and Eve knew without a doubt that it was Matt.

She found herself in his arms, not knowing whether she was laughing or crying. “Matt, Matt,” she repeated over and over between his passionate kisses.

Matt crushed her to his chest, then remembered she was carrying a baby. “What are you doing here?”

Eve stared up at the rugged face of the man she loved beyond belief. “You didn’t come for me, so I came to you.”

“I was coming for you.”

“When, Matthew Sterling?”

“Now,” he admitted. “I was on my way to the airport.”

Pulling back, she looked him up and down. He wore a western-style, dark suit with a white shirt and a shoestring tie.

“What took you so long, Matt?”

“I broke my ankle,” he admitted. “Today was the first day I could pull a boot on.”

She stared down at his black, snakeskin boots, then returned her gaze to his face. “Why didn’t you call me, Darling?”

“I wanted so much to call you, but I wanted to give you time to become reacquainted with your son. I spoke to Harry at least three times a week, and he kept me updated on everything.” What he didn’t say was that he had to wait until
all
of his injuries healed; the Federales had exacted a high price for Alejandro Delgado’s freedom.

“
Our
son,” she corrected, her arms going around his neck.

Leaning heavily on his cane, Matt curved his free arm around her thickening waist. Lowering his head, he captured her mouth, drinking deeply again.

Sated, he pulled back, his eyes a deep, verdant green. “
Our
son,” he repeated.

“Would you like to meet him?” Matt swallowed painfully, nodding. “He’s asleep in the back seat.”

Matt limped over to the car and stared at the child, who was now awake and staring at his mother and the tall man beside her.

Eve unlocked the door and beckoned to Chris. “Come and meet your stepfather.” Chris scrambled from the seat and stepped out into the arid New Mexico heat.

Matt leaned down as far as his injured leg would
permit him. Extending his free hand, he smiled. “How are you, Christopher?” he asked in Spanish.

Chris glanced briefly at his mother, then took the proffered hand. “Fine,” he replied in the same language. “Mama said you’re going to be my stepfather. What do you want me to call you?”

“What did you call your father?”

“Daddy,” Chris said without hesitating.

“If that’s the case, then I wouldn’t mind being your papa.”

“I like papa, Papa.” Chris and Matt laughed while Eve blinked back tears.

Matt swept the hat from his head and placed it on Chris’s, and Eve noticed several streaks of gray in the raven black hair. “It gets pretty hot out here and you’re going to need a hat to keep the sun off your face and neck.” The hat slid down over the boy’s forehead.

“It’s too big,” he mumbled under the wide circle of straw.

“Then we’ll have to see about getting one that will fit.” Chris handed Matt back his hat. “You like horses, Chris?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about you ride in the truck with me, while your mama follows us in her car, and I’ll tell you about some horses who live at the place that’s going to be your home.”

“Can I ride the horses?”

Matt stared at the child who would never get to see his natural father again. He would become the father Alejandro Delgado could never become.

“Of course,” he finally answered, staring over the boy’s head at Eve. “I’ll teach you to ride, shoot, and
how to live off the land. But most of all I want to help you to become an honorable man.”

“Thank you,” she whispered softly.

Chris tugged at Matt’s hand. “Can we go now, Papa? I want to see the horses.”

Matt winked at Eve as he helped her into her car, then he limped back to the truck with Chris, knowing that he’d been given another chance; like the phoenix, he’d risen from the ashes of death to live with the woman he’d promised to love and protect for the rest of his life.

Rochelle Alers
has been hailed by readers and booksellers alike as one of today’s most prolific and popular African American authors of romance and women’s fiction.

With more than sixty titles and nearly two million copies of her novels in print, Ms. Alers is a regular on the Waldenbooks, Borders and Essence bestseller lists, regularly chosen by Black Expressions Book Club, and has been the recipient of numerous awards, including the
Gold Pen Award
, the
Emma Award, Vivian Stephens Award for Excellence in Romance Writing
, the
Romantic Times Career Achievement Award
and the
Zora Neale Hurston Literary Award
.

She is a member of the Iota Theta Zeta Chapter of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc., and her interests include gourmet cooking and traveling. She has traveled to Europe, and countries in North, South and Central America. Her future travel plans include visits to Hong Kong and New Zealand. Ms. Alers is also in accomplished in knitting, crocheting and needlepoint. She is currently taking instruction in the art of hand quilting. Oliver, a toy Yorkshire terrier has become the newest addition to her family. When he’s not barking at passing school buses, the tiny dog can be found sleeping on her lap while she spends hours in front of the computer. A full-time writer, Ms. Alers lives in a charming hamlet on Long Island.