Against the Night (22 page)

Amy worked to rein in her temper. Arguing wasn’t going to sway him. She would do what she had to, what she had come to Los Angeles to do.

She was going to Belize—one way or another.

They went to bed angry, lying on the mattress with their backs to each other, the clock ticking off the seconds, both of them wide-awake.

An hour later, Amy rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. “In our family my dad and mom had a rule.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” Johnnie growled from the other side of the bed.

“They never went to bed angry. They might argue again in the morning, but at night, they were together. It worked great for almost thirty years.”

Johnnie rolled over beside her. “Amy, I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I know.”

He ran a finger along her cheek. “I missed you tonight.”

“I missed you, too.” And then he was kissing her and she was kissing him back and her heart felt a whole lot lighter. It didn’t take long for her body to soften and warm, responding to him the way it always did, and then they were making love.

Amy smiled into the darkness. At least for tonight, everything was going to be all right.

Her smiled slipped a little. In the morning, that was probably going to change.

Johnnie yawned as he eased out of bed late the next morning. While Amy was still asleep, he went downstairs to his office and sat in front of his computer. Once the machine had booted up, he went on the Net and booked an open-ended flight to Belize.

He thought of last night and smiled. Amy’s parents must have been pretty smart people. He liked their rule, liked the idea of never going to bed angry. He liked making love to her after they had made up.

The attraction between them was as strong as ever. The problem was, his attraction to her went deeper than just sex and that was not good. He was letting down his guard, getting in too deep. He needed to pull back a little, keep his emotions in check.

He told himself it was better that Amy was staying here in L.A., going back to the club this afternoon, that he didn’t mind her working tonight, dancing onstage for the men.

What a fucking lie.
He hated just thinking about it.

Worse yet, he would be out of the country, nowhere near if she needed him.

He tried not to remember what had happened to his own sister. How he’d been in Mexico when Katie was killed. Not that he could have prevented it.

Still…

The smell of coffee reached him, brought him up from behind his desk. He headed for the stairs, then ambled down the hall toward the kitchen.

“I made it stronger,” Amy said proudly, handing him a mug of the steaming dark brew. “I hope you like it.”

“Thanks.” He took a sip. Not nearly strong enough for him, since the stuff he made would straighten nails, but a helluva lot better than before.

“I borrowed some Bisquick from Ellie and baked a coffee cake for breakfast. I figured it would hold us over till lunch, though it’s so late this kind of is lunch. At any rate, it’s almost done.” Leaning down, she opened the oven door and the aroma of brown sugar and cinnamon filled the air.

Johnnie inhaled deeply. “Oh, man, that smells good.”

“My grandmother’s recipe. All of the Brewer women are excellent cooks.”

Johnnie’s stomach rumbled. They sat down at the kitchen table and drank coffee and ate the delicious cinnamon crumb cake.

Johnnie sighed contentedly as he leaned back in his chair. “You really are a good cook.”

One of her golden eyebrows went up. “Are you kidding? If you had anything in the house to cook with, I could make you something really impressive.”

He eyed her over the rim of his cup. “Yeah, like what?”

“Let’s see…bacon and egg casserole with green chiles and salsa. Or maybe some sour dough waffles with fresh strawberries and cream.”

Johnnie’s mouth watered. “That’s just cruel,” he grumbled, knowing she was going back to her apartment at the club and he wouldn’t have any more breakfasts with her for a while.

Amy laughed.

He stood up from his chair. “The food was great, but I’d better get going. I’ve got some things to do and I need to pack. I’m flying out tonight.”

Amy stood up, too. “I need to do that, too.”

He eyed her sharply. “You’re packing your stuff to go back to the club, right?”

She just smiled. “I’m packing for the trip I’m taking to Belize.”

“Bullshit.”

Amy set her coffee mug very carefully down on the table. “Belize is a tourist destination, Johnnie, not the edge of the world. They even speak English there. I’m going. With or without you.”

His jaw tightened as he fought to hang on to his temper. He should have known last night was too easy.

“Exactly what do you think you’re going to do once you get there?”

“The same thing you plan to do—ask questions and hope to get answers.”

“No.”

“You can’t stop me. You don’t own me, John Riggs. You can’t tell me what to do.”

He forced his jaw to unclench. “You’d need contacts, people to point you in the right direction. Aside from that, do you have any idea how dangerous this could turn out to be?”

“I’m aware of what might happen. I would definitely be safer if I went down there with you, but—”

“I swear to God, Amy—”

“I’m going, Johnnie.”

He fought for control, felt it slipping away. “The flight is probably full.”

“If it is, I’ll get another one and meet you there.”

“You don’t have a passport.”

She gave him a fake smile. “Actually, I do.”

He made one last try. “I thought you had to work.”

“I called Tate this morning. I told him I needed a few more days off and he said it was okay.”

Johnnie wanted to keep arguing, tie her up to keep her safe if he had to, but the way she’d been asking questions all over town, she might be in danger right here in L.A. He thought again of Katie. He couldn’t handle it if something happened to Amy because he wasn’t there to protect her.

And she was just flat-out wearing him down. Rachael was her sister; Amy was determined to find her. One thing he had learned—it was hard to say no to Amy.

“What airline?” she asked, pushing him, knowing she had him beat.

“United,” he growled. “It was too late to catch the early flight. This one departs tonight, 12:30 a.m. out of LAX, stopover in Houston.”

“May I use your computer?”

His shoulders felt tight as his mouth curved up in a sarcastic smile. “Why not?”

Amy grinned. “I’ll be right back.”

She wasn’t gone long and her grin was still in place when she walked back into the kitchen. “All done. I didn’t know your seat number so we won’t be sitting together, but that’s okay.”

His patience thinned once more. “Nothing about this is okay.”

“I’ll need to go by my apartment before we leave. Can we do that sometime today?”

“Sure, we’ve got all the time in the world. After all, you’ll need your bikini since we’re going on vacation.”

Amy sliced him a glance but ignored the sarcasm, just hurried off down the hall to load her clothes back into the overnight bag she had brought with her. Johnnie followed, his own packing to do, his mood even grimmer than before.

He was going to Belize. Amy was going with him.

How that had happened, he still couldn’t quite figure out.

Twenty

Amy sat in the back of the plane next to Johnnie on the second leg of the trip. They had arrived from LAX at George Bush International Airport at 5:31 a.m. Houston time. They’d made the best of the three-and-a-half-hour layover, mostly dozing upright in one of the terminal chairs, then had breakfast and climbed aboard a flight leaving for Belize at nine-thirty that morning.

As soon as the captain had turned off the fasten-seat-belt sign, Johnnie had stormed down the aisle and rudely demanded the man sitting next to her trade him seats and move to the front of the plane.

“My bag is stowed back here,” the man protested, reluctant to make the switch.

Johnnie nodded toward Amy and said, “Look buddy, you’d be doing me a big favor, know what I mean?”

Realizing the big, barrel-chested man towering over him wasn’t taking no for an answer, the passenger pushed his horn rim glasses up on his nose and gave in.

“All right, fine,” he said, making a show of pulling his carry-on out of the overhead bin and dragging it up the aisle.

Johnnie plunked down in the seat beside her.

Amy cast him a sideways glance. “You know you were terribly rude to that man. You could have asked him nicely.”

“I’m not in the mood to be nice.” He’d been angry and sullen since they left his house. He didn’t want her to go, but he was stuck with her and both of them knew it.

“Well, it wasn’t your finest moment.”

Johnnie sighed, scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, you’re right. It wasn’t that poor joker’s fault you’re heading into a situation that might get you killed.”

“Or…this whole thing might be nothing but a wild-goose chase.”

“True enough.”

Amy glanced away. “I hope not.”

Johnnie reached over and laced his fingers with hers. “So do I.”

Amy smiled and Johnnie relaxed against his seat. “All right, you’re here. From now on I’ll try to make the best of it.”

“That’s good. And maybe I’ll be more helpful than you think.”

He flashed her a look. “Yeah, right.”

Amy ignored the remark, just opened the Dean Koontz thriller novel she had been trying to read since the night before they left and buried her nose in the pages.

Johnnie tipped his head back and immediately fell asleep.

As tired as she was from their late departure and her inability to sleep in the terminal, Amy wished she could do the same. She didn’t realize she had actually drifted off until the landing gear locked into place, jolting her awake, and the plane began its final descent.

She turned to Johnnie, who was wide-awake and watching her sleep. “We’re here,” she said, both excited and a little fearful. “I didn’t think to ask before…have you ever been to Belize?”

“I was here when I was in the Rangers. At the time, we were involved in some…unofficial business in Honduras. Belize was just a short hop away. My buddies and I caught a ride on a supply plane, came on down to do some diving.”

“Well, that’s bound to be helpful. I looked up some information on Belize when I was on your computer. It’s supposed to be a little-known tropical paradise. You know until today, the only time I’ve been out of the country was a trip with some friends to Canada. That’s when I got my passport.”

Johnnie rolled his eyes. “Great.”

Amy reached over, closed her fingers around his biceps, felt it bunch. “I won’t be any trouble, Johnnie. I promise.”

A little more of his tension eased. “The truth is, I don’t really blame you. If there was a chance in hell my sister was still alive and I thought maybe I could find her, I wouldn’t let anything between heaven and earth stop me from trying.” As the plane touched down on the tarmac and rolled toward the terminal, he leaned over and brushed a light kiss on her lips. “You ready for this?”

Amy nodded, took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

Johnnie didn’t say more as they grabbed their bags out of the overhead bin. They had each brought a carry-on but no checked luggage so they headed straight for Customs and passed through easily. Thank God, she had thought to toss her passport into her suitcase when she had packed for L.A.—in case of an emergency, which this certainly was.

From Customs, they made their way toward the exit.

Johnnie stopped at the currency window and exchanged some U.S. dollars for Belizean money. “Most places take American,” he said. “Two Belize dollars for one U.S. This is just in case.”

“Shouldn’t I get some, too?”

Johnnie handed her some bills. “Let’s go. Wheeler’s contact should be waiting. We’ll see what intel he’s been able to scrounge up for us.”

As they shoved through the glass door leading out to the street, Amy started to tell him she was keeping her fingers crossed, but the instant she opened her mouth, a wave of hot wet air hit her like a damp rag over a blowtorch and she couldn’t say a word.

Her head spun. “I—I can’t…I can’t breathe.”

Johnnie just kept walking. “Hotter than a bitch, the tropics in the summer.” As Amy gasped for breath, he didn’t even slow down, just set his hand at her waist and guided her toward a tall black man in his mid-thirties wearing a short-sleeved blue-flowered shirt and a wide-brimmed straw hat.

“Nathan Dietz?”

“Yes, I am Dietz.” He spoke in a deep voice with a crisp British accent tinged with a trace of the Creole spoken in the Caribbean.

The men shook hands. “You know why we’re here,” Johnnie said.

Dietz nodded. “Agent Wheeler’s email contained the information you sent him regarding the missing woman, as well as a photograph.”

“Rachael Brewer. This is her sister, Amy.”

She ignored the squares dancing in front of her eyes and dragged in another lungful of humid air. “It’s very nice to meet you…Mr. Dietz.”

“It is just Nate or Dietz.” He tipped his head toward the parking lot. “My van is over there. We can talk on the way to the plane.”

Johnnie just nodded as if he knew exactly what was going on.

“What plane?” Amy asked. “We just got off the plane.”

Dietz talked to her over his shoulder. “We are flying into Placencia. Ortega’s villa is a few miles south. It is less than a hundred miles away, but the roads in this country are primitive. Flying is far more efficient.”

They started toward the parking lot, tugging their rolling bags behind them over the uneven asphalt. Palm trees waved along the streets in front of the airport but the breeze did nothing to cool the air.

Dietz slid open the van door. Johnnie helped her climb into the backseat, and the men climbed into the front. The vehicle had to be a hundred and twenty degrees inside. The air conditioner was already cranked to high as Dietz started the engine, but the wind blasting out of the vents was even hotter than the air outside.

Perspiration soaked through her clothes. She had never felt anything like it.