Red Hot BOX SET: Complete Series 1-4: A Patrick & Steeves Suspense (6 page)

T
he back door
to the hacienda scraped the floor as Dal pushed it open. He coughed. Dust motes danced in the light that shone in, barely cutting a swath through the hazy darkness within. He fumbled for a switch, knowing before he flicked it the electricity would be off.

Emily pushed her way past him, using a small flashlight to find her way through the back mudroom into the spacious kitchen area. She plunked the food on the counter and threw back the shutters of the window over the sink.

Following her lead, he pulled back the shutters of the two other windows. Sunlight flooded the huge space. There were yards of tiled counter top, pots and pans of all sizes hung from the ceiling over an island in the middle of the floor. In the corner sat an empty refrigerator, door propped open, and beyond that an entranceway into a pantry. “Think they have supplies here?”

“There should be something.” Crossing the room, she ran her light over the shelves, revealing tins of soup, beans, and vegetables. She pried the cover off a clear plastic bin to find bags of rice and pasta. Packets of oats filled another.

“It’s not exciting, but we won’t starve.” He turned back to the kitchen, and over to the stove. Turning the knob for the element, he waved his hand. No flame. He leaned slightly in, sniffing. “Gas is off. There’s probably a shut off valve at the tank.”

“I’m good with what we have, if you are.” Emily was watching him, forehead creased.

“Sure, just checking for later. Let’s eat.” He opened a cupboard near the sink and took out a couple of plates, a nearby drawer held utensils. “What about a can of salsa?”

She nodded and grabbed it from the pantry. “Let’s eat outside.”

“Sounds good to me.” Dal scanned the kitchen. “Hand me your light. I’ll meet you out there.” He followed the beam into a large formal dining area and an enormous sala. Large bulky furniture huddled under yellowed dust covers. He yanked one off a chair and returned to the porch. Stepping downwind, he shook it, laid it clean side up along the top stair. “A pic-a-nic.” He grinned lopsidedly and was rewarded with a dazzling smile. Damn she was cute.

He waited until she chose a few pieces of chicken, before tucking in himself, placing strips of chicken into tortillas which he drenched with salsa. Once he had three in him, he puffed out a breath. “I was starving.”

“I noticed,” she said, laughing. “But then,” she indicated her empty plate, “I can’t talk.” She pulled potatoes and onions from the bag, divvied them up and pushed his plate back to him.

He rooted through the pack, lining up soft drinks, beer, and tiny bottles of tequila in a small army between them. “Your poison?”

Reaching forward, she grabbed a coke. “Nothing like a warm cola.”

He chuckled and grabbed the other one. “If we’re lucky, they’ll also be fizzy.”

When she laughed again, his heart melted a little. She was adorable when she wasn’t hungry. He’d have to remember to keep her fed. “Tell me something about yourself, Emily Patrick. How did you end up working with the Embassy?” He leaned back and attacked the potatoes and onions with his fork.

She took a long swallow of her drink and looked him in the eye. She glanced to the side before she started speaking. She was going to lie. Or at best, give him a half-truth. Unlike the other jocks in his mandated psychology class, he’d paid attention. People fascinated him. Who they were. What they did. Why they did those things. He arched his brow and waited.

“I always wanted to serve my country,” she said, pushing a roasted potato around her plate. “It was a good fit.”

“What’s your job, though? Do you just rescue Americans in trouble south of the border?” Somehow he couldn’t imagine her at a desk all day. She was level-headed, mostly unfazed by the predicament they were in. More than unfazed, she was in charge. Which, he guessed, was why she was here.

The potato on her plate had left a trail of oil peppered with charred bits. She pierced it with the fork and popped it into her mouth, shrugging. Chewing slowly, she opened a small bottle of the tequila and dumped it into the can of cola, holding it up first to offer him some. He shook his head. After the fuzziness of the last twenty-four hours, he wanted his head clear. The last of the morphine hang-over was all but gone. Pain or not, he’d stay away from the alcohol for now.

She put the fork down and patted her mouth with a paper napkin before taking a long drink of the tequila and cola. “Admin, mostly. Some outreach. I do what I’m asked, when I’m asked.”

“So, top secret then?” His grin widened. He’d hoped she would open up a little, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen. Fair enough. He was a job to her, something she needed to get done. Still, he couldn’t resist pushing a little. “I was thinking … we’re proceeding as if we’re in a lot of danger—”

“We are in a lot of danger.” Her brow creased as she studied him.

“Yet, you don’t seem fazed by it.” He was rewarded by a slight flicker in her eyes. He was onto something. “Do they send you for special training for these types of assignments?”

“The Embassy?”

Who else would he mean? He nodded and held her gaze. “Yes. The Embassy.”

“Well, of course, uh …”

“I can’t imagine they send you into situations like this without any training—”

“Look,” she reached over and touched his knee. “I understand you must be worried. But don’t be. I know what I’m doing. And Jack is coming for us. Before you know it, you’ll be state-side and these last two days will just be an interesting story.”

He leaned back and bit his tongue. That didn’t go as he planned. Somehow he’d come off like a chastened school boy asking for reassurance. “That’s not what I meant—”

She jumped up. “We better have a look around before it gets dark.”

Reluctantly he got to his feet and followed her into the kitchen with the dirty plates. He’d have to try a different tact - that one had gotten him absolutely nowhere.

D
amn
, couldn’t he just leave it alone? He was like a dog with a bone. Emily stomped down the stairs with Dal on her heels. She needed some space. She needed to breathe. She sucked in a breath as he trailed her across to the barn.

As if she was going to tell him this was her first day on the job. Probably wouldn’t inspire a hell of a lot of confidence with that admission. And the rest? Well the rest was none of his business. What could he possibly understand about having people you care about die right in front of you?

She’d let her guard down earlier, in the car. He was so damn hot when he smiled … and those dimples. Good grief, she could lose herself in those dimples — Em, get your head together. She was on the job. And her job here was to make sure he got back to home soil in one piece. From here on out, she was putting her professional face on. If, once they got back to the states something else came of it…

“We should try to get in here.” Dal interrupted her thoughts. She made a 180 and collided with his chest. She stepped back as if burned. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, turning back to the gate. Heat flared in her cheeks, she put her head down so he wouldn’t see. “Like you said earlier, it’s locked.”

“Another combination,” he replied, palming the lock. “Let’s run through those same numbers.” His fingers were surprisingly deft for someone with such large hands. He’d left his jacket on the steps, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his forearms.

He gazed at her with hooded eyes. “None of these are working. Any other ideas?”

“We could break it. How badly do we need to get in there?”

“I don’t know. We’re good here as long as there’s someone coming for us … if the wrong people show up, we’re sitting ducks. You have a gun?”

She shook her head. He was right. If the cartel got here before Jack, they needed to have some sort of defense. Looking above the door, she spied a boarded up window. “What about that?”

“I can try,” Dal said. “Let’s find a ladder.”

A quick search of the grounds turned up a lot of locked doors and no ladders. They met back in front of the barn, Dal carrying a pry bar.

“What about the car?” He was tall and the window wasn’t that high.

“It’s worth a shot,” he agreed. “Bring it over.”

Emily drove her car up alongside the front of the barn door, getting as close as possible. She clambered out while Dal, in two easy steps, climbed over her trunk and onto the roof. It sagged under his weight. He screwed up his face in apology, then reached with the pry bar to the lower boards. It took a few tries but he soon had them off, and hoisted himself up through the open window.

“There’s nowhere to go,” he called to her, straddling the window frame. “I’ll have to drop down to the floor.”

“Wait —” she started to say, but he was gone. He shuffled around inside, she called through the door. “Anything?”

“Hang on, I’ll have a look.”

Em moved into the shade, leaned against the hood of her car. This was desolate land; she couldn’t imagine living out here. So isolated. The mountains resembled piles of quarry rubble, cacti of every variety managed to grow despite the arid conditions. Not much else survived this heat. A hawk peeled across the sky beyond the old store.

“You didn’t hear me?”

She jumped. “What the—” Dal was beside her. “Where did you come from?”

“The door at the back only had a bar on the inside, no lock. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her down along the side of the barn and into the dimly lit interior.

Her skin tingled but she took her hand back once he stopped running. The barn was huge, with livestock stalls down one side and several doors down the other. “Where do we start?”

His grin disarmed her. Again. “At the beginning.” He walked over to the first door and pried the lock off. They stepped inside. Mostly tackle. “Let’s try door number two.”

He made short work of the lock, and she poked her head in. Cans of oil, some gaskets hanging on the wall, an old oil pan. “Looks like they work on machinery in here.”

Dal was already working on the third door. When he stepped inside she pushed herself up on her toes to see over his shoulder. He let out a low whistle and turned sideways so she could enter. “Holy shit.”

Stainless steel racks lined two walls floor to ceiling. Rifles and automatic weapons of all shapes and sizes filled the racks. The end wall bore shelves laden with pistols, revolvers, ammunition, cleaning solvents, lubricants, rags and small tools. Emily’s mouth dropped.

“Jack didn’t mention this.” Jack hadn’t really been on top of most of this. He sent her down here with almost no information, sent her out to the hacienda with nothing more than GPS co-ordinates, and…

“You shut your phone off.” Dal started sifting through the weapons, and sorting boxes of ammunition.

“That’s true.” Jack knew she could handle herself. He didn’t have to hold her hand. Like knowing she would be able to figure out the combination, he knew that she’d do a good recon and find the guns.

“Rifle or handgun?” Dal pointed to the ones he’d lined up on the shelf.

“I’ll take the semi-automatic over here.” Emily pulled the one she wanted out of the rack and started shifting boxes of ammo.

“Lady knows her guns.” Dal followed her movements as she carefully checked her weapon. He was more curious about her now than before, if that was possible. Who exactly was this woman masquerading as an Embassy clerk?

“I hope we don’t need these.” She glanced down at their stash on the shelf. “What are you taking?”

“This,” he said, holding up a pistol, “and this.” He nudged a high-power rifle.

She nodded. “Let’s take all the ammo we can manage.” She wandered out of the room. “Wonder what else we’ll find.”

Leaving the guns, Dal followed her and pried open the next door. He recoiled backward. Emily did as well, almost losing her balance. He placed his hand on the small of her back to steady her.

“What the hell is the American Embassy up to down here?”

“
W
hat the hell
is the American Embassy up to down here?” Dal’s eyes took in the blood-stained cement floor. All manner of hooks and chains were attached to one wall. More hooks and ropes hung from the ceiling. A pail, rusty with blood stains, stood in the corner. Yet another stainless steel rack held tools he’d rather not know the use of. He glanced over at Emily. Her eyes were wide.

She backed out of the room. “We shouldn’t be here,” she said. “Maybe we’re not in the right place.”

“We’re in the right place.” Closing the door, he turned and took her hand. “Your boss’s name opened the combination lock, remember?”

Emily’s face blanched white. “It looks like a torture chamber.”

He put his arm around her shoulder and guided her outside. “Let’s get some air.” Once outside, he walked her over to the cement pump housing and sat her down. He kept his arm tightly around her shoulder. She was trembling and leaned into him. What could they be doing here? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. And he was pretty sure that Emily was definitely out of her pay grade.

He clasped her hand in his and stroked her hair. She’d probably never seen anything like that before. Hell, he’d never seen anything like that. Not outside of the movies. What had he gotten himself mixed up in? He replayed last night in his mind knowing - knowing deep in his gut - that he wouldn’t have done anything differently. Couldn’t have done anything differently.

Emily stirred beside him. “We need to get out of here.” Her voice quavered. He found her momentary vulnerability irresistible. Emotion charged through him, he felt more alive than he had in months. He’d do anything to make her feel safe again.

He pulled back and looked into her eyes. They were a greenish hazel, with yellow flecks. He wanted to kiss her. Which was crazy. Romance was surely the last thing she had on her mind. But the pull was too strong. He was drowning in those eyes. She lifted a hand and placed it on his chest. His fingers found their way into her hair, and as he bent his head towards her, she tilted hers back, chin slightly up. She took a deep breath, her lip trembled and then a single tear slid down her right cheek.

* * *

“
H
ey
.” He wrapped his arms around her. “We’ll get out of this, don’t worry.”

“It’s just … just …” Emily squeezed her eyes shut, willing the images out of her mind. They kept coming, flashing bits of horror she needed to forget. She couldn’t tell him. Stepping into that room had been like opening the door into a past she’d struggled for months to forget. She let her head rest on his shoulder. She barely knew him but she felt safe in his arms. She’d gone too long without human physical comfort.

He stirred. “It’s unsettling for me, too.” He stood, pulling her up with him.

She turned her head away, swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“C’mon.” He took her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

She turned in the direction of the other building.

“No, Emily,” Dal said, holding her in place. “I mean, let’s get in the car and get the hell out of here.”

“But Jack is coming.”

“If he gets here first.” Dal released her hand, and kicked at the dirt. “I say we get the hell out of here and meet your boss somewhere else.”

She stood her ground. Jack would come. “No,” she said. “We stay. The Embassy put me in charge of keeping you safe, and I say we stay here.”

“We’re talking about my life here. I say we go.”

“Our best chance is to wait for Jack.” She held his gaze, his gray eyes dark. “But, I think we should finish our recon so we have a way out of here if we need it.”

Dal’s eyes narrowed and he spun away. She shadowed him to the old company store. She prayed she was right. Making the wrong decision could put another man’s blood on her hands, that was something she couldn’t bear.

The windows of the old building were completely boarded up, the doors bolted. Emily lifted the padlock. It was more industrial than the others. “Is it just me, or does this building seem a little too secure, given we’re in the middle of nowhere?”

He met her eyes. “It does. There’s something off about this whole thing.”

Walking the circumference of the building revealed no chinks in the armor. Completely locked down. “Now what?”

Dal pointed to the ground behind the store. She peered where he was pointing. “What is it?”

“Looks like an old trail. If you insist on staying here, little sitting fucking ducks, we better see where it goes.” He reached for her hand, but she pretended not to see, half-turning and continuing between the hills. The trail, indicated only by the lack of cacti growing in the dust, wound through the arid rock formations. The air was thick between them. Anxious to break the tension, she pointed out a tuna on a nearby cactus. “You ever eat these?”

“Tried them once.” The heat bounced off the rocks in waves. It was blistering hot. Dal’s t-shirt was plastered to his chest. She tried not to stare. He was really built. “I’ll try just about anything once.”

She grinned. He’d accepted her peace offering. “Me, too.” She surveyed the landscape around them, turning in a complete circle. “There’s nothing here. Should we keep going?”

“Absolutely. Look, if anything goes sideways later—”

“Jack will come for us,” she said, immediately regretting the snark in her voice. “If the bad guys don’t show up in the next couple of hours, we’ll be fine. He’ll come for us, and we’ll be ordering late-night pizza in San Diego.”

He quirked a brow and the corner of his mouth lifted in a questioning smile. “We will?”

“I meant, in general … you’ll be home safely, I’ll be home safely … it’ll be a good story to tell your pals at the firehouse.” Her stomach dropped. “Except you can’t tell them what we found here. You’ll have to say I picked you up at the hospital in Las Flores and brought you home.”

“Not much of a story,” he said, eyes sparkling. “I’m still thinking of late night pizza with you - that sounds pretty good.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Shaking her head, she continued along the trail. More rocks, more cacti. She stopped and turned to him. “You aren’t going to have much of a story - you understand that, right? If we get you out of here, the cartel will still be looking for you. I’m not even sure—”

“That I can go back home? That I can go back to work?”

She nodded. How was he going to feel about having his life ripped out from under him?

“I’ve been thinking about that, too.” His gaze swept the rocks, his eyes narrowing in on a cleft to their right. He walked toward it, Emily quickened her pace to keep up with his long strides. Turning his body sideways, he slid half-way into the cleft in the cliff. “Do you know what this is?”