Accidental Commando (22 page)

Tyler stepped to the side to go around the guards and started toward Emily.

At a snap of Kenyon’s fingers, they blocked his path.

Tyler glanced at them impatiently. “Relax. I’m with the envoy’s bodyguard detail,” he said. “I’ve got clearance.” When they didn’t respond, he repeated the same thing in Spanish.

Kenyon set down his briefcase, caught Emily’s elbow and nodded to the guards. “Take his weapons.”

Tyler shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and held his arms loosely at his sides, automatically assuming a combat stance. He didn’t draw his pistol because he wouldn’t want to risk any stray bullets in such close quarters, but the guards had to realize he couldn’t let them disarm him. “Easy now. There’s obviously a misunderstanding here.”

“Oh, there’s no misunderstanding at all, Sergeant Matheson,” Kenyon said. “I know exactly who you are. You’re the man who killed Miguel Castillo. Please, give my men your weapons before our lovely Miss Wright gets hurt.”

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Or maybe everything seemed fuzzy because of the tears that still blurred her eyes. Emily watched in horror as the guards closest to Tyler grabbed his arms and slammed him against the wall.

“No!” she yelled, lunging forward. “Stop!”

Kenyon changed his grip from her elbow to her arm and yanked her back to his side. His fingers dug into her bandage.

The pain stunned her. Emily staggered and fought to catch her breath.

Tyler pivoted on one foot and whipped the trailing leg in an arc toward the guard on his left. His boot connected with the man’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. As the first guard crumpled to the floor, Tyler had already driven his elbow into the windpipe of the second.

The other three men were on him immediately. Emily’s stomach rolled at the sound of their fists hitting Tyler’s flesh. “Stop it!” she cried. “Why are you doing this? He’s not your enemy!”

“You’re wrong,
señorita,
” Kenyon said. “Tell him to surrender.”

Tyler closed his hand over the fist of one of his attackers and twisted him backward. There was a noise like a stick snapping. Or a bone breaking. The man screamed and stumbled into one of the paintings. The heavy gilt frame broke apart as it crashed to the floor, sending pieces of wood skidding in every direction. One of the largest ones bounced against Emily’s feet.

She didn’t stop to think. Nothing was making sense, anyway. So she stooped fast, grabbed the piece of frame in her left hand and swung backward at Kenyon.

He must have ducked. The wood hit the wall instead. Before she could draw it back to try again it was twisted out of her hand. She felt something cold press against her neck.

“Enough!” Kenyon ordered. “Tell him to surrender or I will be forced to slit your throat.”

From the corner of her eye, Emily saw the gleam of a metal knife blade. She looked at Tyler. He had downed the fourth man and had the fifth in a choke hold. Despite the overwhelming odds that had been against him, he was seconds away from overpowering all of his attackers. Whatever was going on here, she knew she would be better off with Tyler than with Kenyon. She gritted her teeth and said nothing.

“Matheson!” Kenyon called. “Release my man now or she dies.”

Tyler looked up. The instant of inattention cost him. One of the fallen guards hooked his hand around Tyler’s ankle and pulled him to the floor. Another knelt on his chest and pressed a gun to his temple.

Emily screamed. “No! Don’t shoot.”

Tyler glared at Kenyon. “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”

“That is an idle threat from a man whose life I could end with a snap of my fingers,” Kenyon said. He slid the blade along Emily’s throat until the tip pressed against the skin beneath her ear. “But I believe you’ll both be more use to me alive. For now,” he added.

Emily held herself as motionless as she could. She hardly dared to breathe. What on earth was going on? Kenyon was in President Gorrell’s cabinet. Why was he threatening her and Tyler? Why were he and these palace guards behaving like thugs?

Only, they weren’t palace guards, she realized, moving her gaze from one face to another as the rest of the men slowly got back to their feet. She’d seen countless members of the president’s elite guard unit over the course of her week in the palace, yet she’d never seen any of these men. She glanced up and down the gallery, but it remained deserted. Surely not everyone in the palace could be in the conference room already.

Kenyon barked a series of orders. The men turned Tyler over and searched him for weapons. They pulled a pistol from the small of his back and another one from a holster on his ankle. They had missed the knife he kept in his boot, Emily realized, yet what good would a knife do against guns? He wouldn’t get the chance to use it anyway. They locked his wrists together behind his back with a pair of handcuffs and levered him to his feet. An instant later, her own arms were seized and forced behind her while her wrists were handcuffed.

Handcuffs? Emily thought. Were they police?

“How much is the Juarez cartel paying you, Kenyon?” Tyler demanded.

“I am gaining far more than wealth, Sergeant Matheson, but I don’t expect a mere soldier to understand that.”

“You’ve got enough to buy these guards,” he said.

“They’re not real palace guards,” Emily said. “I’ve never seen any of them before.”

“Yeah. I figured they were fakes from the way they fought. A real guard wouldn’t have gone down that easily.”

One of the men was holding his right arm against his chest. It was probably broken. He stepped forward and gave Tyler a backhanded blow with his left, but at a signal from Kenyon, he retreated.

“Miss Wright has a talent for faces, doesn’t she?” Kenyon said. “She’s the one who spotted Miguel.”

“Who’s Miguel?” Emily asked. She wanted to draw their attention off Tyler before they could hurt him further, but it was no use. He spoke again, anyway.

“Miguel Castillo is El Gato’s real name,” Tyler said. “It wasn’t in the press release. Only someone working for the cartel would know that. We suspected they might have someone in the government.”

“I’ve had a long and profitable business association with the Juarez family,” Kenyon said. “But you, Sergeant Matheson, have made this personal.” He caught Emily’s chin and turned her face toward his. “And you, too, beautiful
señorita.
You see, Miguel was not only a fighter for our cause, he was my cousin.”

Emily met his gaze and did her best to keep her fear from showing. She’d noticed the strong resemblance between Kenyon and El Gato yesterday. They had the same coloring, the same body shape and size. They even moved in the same way. Yet she’d never suspected they could be related.

Oh, God. Now what?

“I knew you had been brought into Eagle Squadron’s mission in order to identify Miguel,” Kenyon continued. “I thought to turn the tables by identifying you for him.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Come now. Why do you suppose I would have approached you at the reception? I was pointing out where you were so he could avoid you.” He squeezed her jaw hard between his thumb and fingers. “But you found him, didn’t you?”

“Your beef is with me, Kenyon,” Tyler said. “I killed him. She didn’t even want to be there. You’re taking a hell of a chance coming back to the palace just to get revenge.”

“Revenge?” He dropped his hand. “No, I’m here for the envoy’s meeting. Encountering the two of you is simply a—” He paused, as if searching for the right word. “A bonus,” he finished. He crouched in front of the briefcase that he’d set on the floor earlier and opened the lid.

There were no papers or files inside the briefcase. No computer or phone or any other tool a politician might normally bring to a meeting. The interior was filled with blocks of a white substance that looked like modeling clay connected by a tangle of colored wires to a circuit board and what appeared to be a timer.

Emily looked at Tyler. Like her, he had a clear view of the briefcase’s contents. One glimpse of his expression and her suspicion was confirmed.

It was a bomb.

Thunder rolled beyond the walls, like the echo of a distant explosion. Emily clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

“You’ve got nothing to gain with that device, Kenyon,” Tyler said. “It’s over. The deal for the base is going to go through, whether the envoy is alive or not.”

“There will be no base if no one is left in the government to sign the deal,” Kenyon said, stroking a blunt-tipped finger along the edge of one of the white blocks. “Isn’t it obliging of the envoy to gather everyone in the same place for me?”

Emily’s stomach lurched. “Oh, my God. You’re going to the meeting so that you can kill them all.”

“If I must. I’d prefer to give the president the chance to resign first, to minimize any international repercussions. The rest of our people are already moving into position throughout the palace to ensure the transition goes smoothly. Once Gorrell steps down, I will assume control. If he refuses, he will die and I will assume control. Either way, the end result is the same.”

“You’re talking about a coup,” Tyler said.

Kenyon smiled. “We prefer to regard it as returning Rocama to the way it was before your country saw fit to interfere in our nation’s business.”

“There’s no way you’re going to succeed. After the attack yesterday, the security is tighter than ever.”

“Palace security has never posed a problem for a member of the government. Particularly now that you’ve presented me with the perfect delivery method for my ultimatum.” Kenyon focused on Emily. “I believe Miguel would have enjoyed having you present my handiwork. It will have a certain artistic irony.”

“You can’t really expect me to help you,” she said. “You’re a bunch of thugs.”

“Leave her alone,” Tyler said. “She’s a civilian. She’s not part of this.”

“Everyone has their price. In this case, she already revealed it.” Kenyon nodded his chin toward the guard with the broken arm. He struck Tyler again, opening a split in his lower lip. Blood trickled from his mouth. Another man stepped up and gave him a series of hard blows to his ribs.

“Stop!” Emily begged. “Please, stop!”

The second guard placed the muzzle of his pistol against Tyler’s ear.

“No!” Emily cried.

“Do as I say and I will let him live,” Kenyon said.

“Don’t listen to him,” Tyler said. “He hasn’t thought this plan through. It’s a desperation move. Hang tight and we’ll be fine.”

Kenyon gestured to his man. “Shoot him.”

Emily jerked forward.
“No!”

“It’s up to you, Miss Wright.”

As far as making deals went, these men were the last ones she could trust. Yet how could she stand by and do nothing while Tyler was killed before her eyes? As long as he was alive, there had to be hope, even if she only bought him a few more minutes.

She’d told him she didn’t want him in her life. She’d been about to leave him. It had seemed the best choice at the time, the safe and sensible one, yet suddenly, all her fretting about trust and judgment and making mistakes seemed ridiculous. What did any of that matter? The possibility of losing him forever was tearing open her heart as surely as that bomb would rip apart their bodies.

No. She couldn’t let her mind go there. Not if she was going to function.

She’d wanted perspective. Well, she should be careful what she wished for, because seeing Tyler with a gun to his head sure knocked her feelings into focus in a hurry. “I’m sorry, Tyler.”

“It’ll be all right. You shouldn’t get involved.”

“No, I mean about what I said to you before they came. I’m sorry.” She looked at Kenyon. “Okay. If you want me to carry it, I will.”

Tyler strained against his handcuffs. “Emily, no! Keep out of this. It’s not your fight.”

“My dear
señorita,
you will not be carrying it.” Kenyon slipped his hands beneath the bomb and gently lifted it from the briefcase. “You will be wearing it.”

Chapter 12

E
mily didn’t know how she was still able to stand. The blocks of C4 that were taped around her waist had been getting heavier with each minute that had passed. Or had it been hours? She had no way of knowing. The muscles in her shoulders were screaming and her hands were going numb from the handcuffs. Her body was trembling so badly, her legs were threatening to collapse. Kenyon’s grip on her elbow was all that was keeping her upright.

Gunfire sounded from somewhere beyond the conference room walls. It had been going on all afternoon, but it wasn’t something Emily could get used to. She cringed reflexively.

“Hang in there,” Tyler murmured. “You’re doing great.”

She glanced over her shoulder. He was too far away for her to touch or to smell, so she clung to the comfort of his voice. The split on his lip had stopped bleeding, though his left eye was purpling and beginning to swell shut from a blow he’d received the last time he’d attempted to move toward her. As if making sure he didn’t try again, one of Kenyon’s thugs jerked him sideways and pressed his gun to the base of Tyler’s skull.

Emily faced the front of the room again and blinked to clear her vision. None of Kenyon’s men were pointing a weapon at her. They didn’t need to. They knew as long as they had Tyler she would do exactly as they said.

“I am losing patience, Norberto,” Kenyon said. He brandished the remote detonator in his hand. His thumb was poised above the switch that would activate the bomb’s timer. “There is only one choice for you to make. Resign now. My men are already securing the palace while I speak.”

“You underestimate my people, Santiago,” Gorrell said. “They are true patriots, not guns-for-hire or corrupt police. Give up now and I will allow you to live.”

Emily curled her nails into her palms and fought to stay upright. The standoff showed no sign of ending. President Gorrell was right. Kenyon had badly underestimated the determination of the Rocaman government. He’d assumed everyone would plead for mercy as soon as they saw Emily walk into the room with the bomb.