Whatever It Takes (22 page)

She tossed the covers back and slid from the bed, steadying herself for a moment before she straightened and took a ­couple of steps toward him. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

Nate’s breath escaped all at once the instant the words left her mouth, and he reached her in two strides. “I know you’re not, darlin’.” He folded her gently in his arms and lowered his lips to hers.

Chapter 18

T
EN MINUTES AFTER
they’d climbed into the belly of the chopper, Alex laid her head on his chest, sound asleep. Nate secured his arm around her so turbulence couldn’t separate them, and so he could continually assure himself that she was all right.

Hell, he was walking on air, and he didn’t care who knew it. He’d seen Ty and Jim watching him, talking, and grinning like a ­couple of teenage boys.
Eat your hearts out, guys.
He had what he wanted—­her agreement to give them a chance. That’s all he needed. Now he had to convince her to stay, because without her he had nothing. That had become obvious in the semidarkness of a partially caved-­in tunnel, as he’d stared into the possibility of losing her.

They had a full load for the return trip, adding Sanchez, Ty, Rayna, and Marco to the roster. There was one extra seat after everyone settled in. Most slept while others talked quietly. Thirty minutes out of Carson City, Nevada, where Joe planned to land and refuel, Alex stirred, stretched, and opened her eyes. Her sleepy smile went right to his head. Forgetting where they were, he lowered his mouth toward hers. Instantly, good-­natured applause and catcalls erupted all around them.

Splotches of crimson stain peeked from beneath Alex’s collar and slowly worked their way upward. Without so much as a glance over her shoulder at the rowdy group, she raised her arm high, extending her middle finger, and grinned when the raucous laughter began in earnest.

Nate frowned, annoyance awakening his ire. They should have more respect for her, especially after everything she’d been through. She certainly didn’t deserve their ridicule, and he intended to make sure they weren’t so quick to serve it up from now on.

She drew his eyes back to hers when she caressed his jaw with gentle fingers. “Don’t mind them. They don’t mean anything by it. That’s just the way they are. Actually, I think they approve—­and maybe they’re a little surprised after our dubious first meeting. I imagine you are too.”

Nate laughed. “Surprised? No. I’ve known since the night you wrecked my car that I wanted you.”

“You certainly disguised it well. I thought you hated me. You never said a word.” A question hovered in her eyes.

“If I had, would you have fallen into my arms? Not likely. I had to make an impression on you first.” His lips twitched with his effort not to laugh.

She had no qualms about it and broke out in hearty chortles. “Is
that
what you were doing?”

He leaned close to her ear. “Careful, darlin’. I’m going to have you all to myself for a while. I might make you eat those words.”

Soft laughter vibrated through her, and she snuggled into him, mischief clearly on her mind.

Nate kissed her ear, feeling himself harden in anticipation.

Walker had arranged to have sandwiches delivered to the small airstrip in Carson City, and they ate while waiting for the chopper to be fueled up. Then they lifted off again for their final leg of the trip.

Nate looked forward to getting home, and that was a new one for him. He’d never been completely comfortable in Uncle Leo’s house and especially not since Val left it desolate and empty. Now he couldn’t thank the powers-­that-­be enough for the fact she was no longer there. His entire relationship with her had been shallow and one-­sided. It had taken only two days with Alex to realize how badly he’d settled. Never again.

She sat next to him, holding Marco’s hand in both of hers, and joined in the conversation with Jim, Rayna, and Ty, trying to pull Nate into the discussion every chance she got. He was nearly overcome by dismay for a moment as he watched her and realized for the first time how much she would miss these ­people if she agreed to stay with him indefinitely.

It was a little past seven, and already dark, when the helicopter set down in the field behind Uncle Leo’s house. “You’re staying the night, aren’t you?” Nate approached Joe as soon as he hopped out of the chopper.

Joe glanced at Alex, striding toward the house, holding one of Marco’s hands while Jim held the other. “I don’t know. I had this crazy notion it might be easier for Alex if we didn’t stay.”

Nate sighed. “I appreciate your concern, but if that’s all it takes for her to change her mind, then it wasn’t meant to be. Everyone’s tired. There’s plenty of room. You should stay and leave in the morning.”

“I admit, that sounds pretty good. You talked me into it.” Joe stopped and turned toward Nate. “Listen. Thanks for everything. If we can ever do anything for you, don’t hesitate to ask—­and if you ever need a job, you’ve got one.”

Surprise stilled Nate’s tongue for a heartbeat. “Thanks, Joe. That means a lot.”

Joe nodded, and they started for the house again. Just inside the back gate, the immaculate lawns began, interrupted by Uncle Leo’s mound of dirt that was twenty-­five feet across and stretched the length of the yard. Crisscrossed with stone paths, and planted with every variety of bush and flower imaginable, it was a formidable barrier. Ty used to joke that Uncle Leo’s skeletons were buried there. Nate hadn’t taken any of his good-­natured ribbing seriously, sure that his uncle didn’t
have
any skeletons, buried or otherwise . . . but after Daniels’s accusation a few nights ago in the bar, he was no longer so sure.

Marco was clearly exhausted and showing signs of coming apart at the seams. He’d held together better than Nate had expected. Part of the reason was the attachment that had formed between the boy and Alex. Now, however, he was withdrawn and quiet.

Nate dropped his bag on the kitchen floor and turned to Sanchez. “There are plenty of rooms upstairs. Just find one that isn’t being used and stake your claim.”

Sanchez nodded and kept moving.

“I’ll fix something to eat.” Nate opened the freezer and brought out two packages of hamburger wrapped in white paper. He ripped open the first one and placed it in the microwave, setting the timer to defrost for five minutes.

“Hell no, Nate.” Joe stepped forward and took the other package from his hand. “You don’t have to cook for us. If someone gets hungry, they can grab a sandwich.”

Nate nodded toward the boy. “Marco needs to eat, and he needs a hot meal—­not a snack.” He turned to the five-­year-­old, where he still clung to Alex, and raised his voice slightly. “Do you like spaghetti, Marco?”

The boy stared at the floor until Alex knelt in front of him and said something in a whisper. Finally, he nodded, and a thin smile flashed briefly across his face. “
Sí
, señor. I will help?”

“Not this time, little man. How about you go upstairs with Alex, and she’ll show you where you can bunk for the night. There’ll be a bathtub in there too, and maybe you could scrape off another layer of dirt before you come down for dinner.”

“
Bañera?
”

Nate grinned. “Take it easy. A bath won’t kill you.”

Alex tried to stand, then stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “Um . . . could someone give me a hand, please? My ribs are protesting all the activity, I’m afraid.”

Nate hastened forward and pulled her to her feet, holding on to her hand a bit longer than necessary until she met his gaze and smiled. Oh yeah. He lived for that smile.

Turning her and Marco both, he walked with them to the bottom of the stairs. “The room right next to mine is where my nephew stays when my sister brings him out. I’m sure you’ll find some PJs in there that are close to the right size.”

Alex stopped suddenly and slid her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.

He locked his arms around her, then quickly loosened his hold when he remembered her broken ribs. “This is really nice, but to what do I owe this obvious show of affection?”

She tipped her head and met his gaze with a trusting smile. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Suppressing a grin, he gripped Marco’s shoulder and turned him toward the stairs. “Climb, little man. Wait for us at the top.”

The boy started up the stairs as Nate’s lips gently brushed hers. Again and again, he tasted her sweetness as the longing to invade her, possess her, grew. Some seriously lustful thoughts were interrupted when the boy made it to the landing above.

“Hey, mister! Now what?” His childish voice rang loudly in the open area surrounding the staircase.

Nate raised his head and immediately caught the humor dancing in Alex’s sparkling eyes. He kissed her one more time before he winked and pivoted to look up at Marco. “How about you call me Nate? Okay?”

“Okay,” Marco shouted over the railing.

Alex snorted and one hand covered her mouth to quiet her giggles while the other wrapped around her cracked ribs.

Nate nudged her toward the stairs. “Impatient little fellow, isn’t he?” If he could bear her pain for her, he would, but damned if it wasn’t good to see her enjoying life.

Alex dissolved into laughter again as she started up the stairs, then quickly stifled it, bending slightly and hugging herself.

“Hey—­call me if you need any heavy lifting. Don’t overtax those ribs.” His warning no doubt fell on deaf ears, but she reached her young charge and took his hand.

Nate returned to the kitchen, removed the thawed hamburger from the microwave, and set the timer on the other package. Walker and Joe entered the room and advanced to the table.

“Beer?” Nate opened the refrigerator and waited for a show of hands, then took out three bottles and handed them around, keeping one for himself. He studied the two men thoughtfully. They were awfully serious for men who had just finished a successful mission. “Is there a problem?”

“Not sure yet. We’ve been trying to contact Marco’s mother since yesterday and, so far, nothing.” Joe dropped into one of the kitchen chairs and took a long swig of his beer. “Last I heard, she still worked for Bree Knight in Alaska, taking care of her daughter, but I just talked to Bree, and apparently, Maria left in a hurry two days ago—­no explanation . . . and no forwarding address.”

Nate turned the heat on under a large frying pan and began breaking the hamburger into small pieces. “You said she knew you were going after her son, right?” Nate remembered the Mexican beauty from six months ago when she’d suddenly showed up with a ­couple of FBI agents, one of whom turned out to be a real lowlife. Still, everyone had been shocked when it was discovered that he’d been responsible for kidnapping Marco and forcing Maria to cooperate in his reprehensible schemes.

“Yep—­called her before we left Montana. She was nervous, but excited and optimistic. After I convinced her to stay away from Nogales, she said she’d be waiting by the phone until I called.” Joe leaned forward and scraped a hand over his whiskered face.

“Why would she take off then?” Nate put a large pan filled with water on the stove.

“There’s no
good
reason I can think of.” Walker set his empty beer bottle on the table and laced his fingers behind his head.

“What will you do now?” Nate leaned against the counter, a spatula in his hand.

“We’ll head home tomorrow like we planned and get Marco settled in. If I don’t hear from Maria in twenty-­four to forty-­eight hours, I’ll probably send someone to find her.” Joe stood with his empty bottle, collected Walker’s, and strode toward the pantry, where the recycle bins were kept.

Nate turned toward the stove again. “I could call the state police. Or maybe Ben could get the FBI involved.”

“No offense, but I have a feeling they’d just get in Jim’s way,” Walker said.

“Jim?” Nate’s gaze darted to Joe as he returned from the pantry. “You’re sending Jim Brady . . . by himself?”

“Normally, I wouldn’t do that, as you know from that last go-­around with Ty, but Jim is . . . unique. Once in a while he’ll let Walker tag along, but most of the time, he insists on working alone.” Joe grabbed a stack of plates and started setting the table. “You’re wondering why I allow Jim to do as he pleases. It’s simple. I’ve seen what he can do.” He laid the knives, forks, and spoons in a pile and finished off each place setting.

Nate dumped a large bag of spaghetti noodles in the pan of boiling water and stirred the sauce. He’d heard stories about Jim Brady. Scenarios that were merely alluded to because they were too unbelievable to report as fact. Joe obviously had sufficient reason to believe, which told Nate what he needed to know—­stay on Jim Brady’s good side.

Nate checked the noodles and then wiped his hands on a towel, tossing it toward the sink.

“Keep an eye on this, would you? I’ll just be a minute. Marco should be out of his bath by now.” Nate shook his head. “Poor kid needs his mother.”

He took the stairs two at a time. The small room next to his, where his nephew’s few articles of clothing were kept, showed signs of activity, but was currently empty. Nate went to his room next, pushing the door wide. His gaze immediately took in the boy, sleeping in Nate’s overstuffed chair, while Alex sat on his bed talking to Jim, who leaned on his elbow next to her with his back to the door.

Apparently, Nate had been more worried about Alex than he was aware, because relief flooded him as he stepped into the room. “There you are. Dinner’s—­”

In one fluid motion, Jim rolled off the bed, landed on his feet, and reached for his gun. Cold detachment drowned out any humanity that might otherwise have been evident in his eyes. His threatening expression froze Nate three feet inside the door, and he figured it would be prudent to raise his hands, proving he wasn’t armed.

The next instant, Jim caught himself and stopped short of touching his weapon. Recognition flashed in his eyes and he threw his hands up in a gesture of regret.

Alex scrambled off the bed. “Jimmy?”

He flinched, but his gaze held steady on Nate. “Fuck! I’m sorry, man. That was a dumbass thing to do. I’m going to get out of your house now.” Jim, his hands balled into fists, stepped around Nate.

“PTSD?” Nate swiveled as Jim walked by.

He stopped, his back rigid. “So they tell me. Seems ridiculous to put a name to something you can’t see, can’t understand, and can’t fight. That’s the worst thing about it—­it lays low and then, when I least expect it, the damn thing catches me off guard. I outdid myself this time, threatening a friend in his own house.” Jim swore under his breath.