Charades (23 page)

     “He was a far better man than you’ll ever be,” Mercy threw back at him, her jaw clenching. “God! What is it with you people? I am sick and tired of this. I’ve been shot at, kidnapped, and dumped in the water. You can all just go to
hell
!”

     Ignoring Ramon’s look of surprise, she jumped to her feet and stomped over to the bar, seizing a crystal decanter. Her hands shook as she poured herself a large drink. She turned around and gulped the dark liquid. It burned like acid going down her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes and she coughed several times before she felt the hot liquid settle in her stomach. With half of the glass still full, she stomped back, the sound of her squishing shoes punctuating every step. She made a half turn as though to sit down. Instead she threw the remaining liquid straight in Ramon’s eyes, kicking the gun out of his hand at the same time.

     Wulf reacted instantly, surging up out of his chair and tackling Ramon. With a triumphant grunt, Mercy kicked the gun farther away.

     Once Wulf had Ramon restrained, Mercy stuffed Ramon’s mouth with paper napkins from the nearby drink caddy.

     “Good work,” Wulf said, catching his breath, “but if you keep doing stuff like this, I swear to God, woman, I’m going to tie you up, too.” Her recklessness scared him to death. Later maybe, when they were safe, he’d sit her down and explain that at this rate, she was going to give him a stroke.

     Wulf thumped Ramon back down in his chair. “Okay, Chamorro, let’s start again, and don’t do anything foolish. Just because you’re Mercy’s uncle doesn’t mean I won’t kill you. You’re not my uncle.” He waited while Chamorro finished spitting the pieces of paper napkins out of his mouth.

     Ramon turned vicious eyes on Mercy. “I should’ve known a Fuentes would act like a
puta
,” he growled, spitting more tiny pieces of paper out of his mouth.

     “I might not be so forgiving next time.”

     “There’ll be no next time,” Wulf assured the both of them, glaring at Ramon and sending Mercy a silent “be quiet and let me handle this” look.

     Ignoring him, Mercy shot back at Ramon, “what was all that crap about family, huh? I was safer with the Fuentes family than you! At least
they
didn’t threaten to kill me.”

     “That’s because they never knew the extent of what Pedro left behind,” Ramon said, leaning toward her menacingly. “They’ll force the information out of you once they find out.” He sat back in his chair, a smirk on his face. “By now your uncles know the raid was only a cover-up to get you away from them. They’ll think you’re working for me.”

     “I don’t believe you, you old goat,” Mercy cut in. “What would you think if we turn this boat around and head back to the pier?”

     She turned to Wulf. “How about it? Can we overpower the two men at the prow?”

     “Why not? We took care of this old bandit. Call one of them in,” Wulf told Ramon. “And if you try anything, you and your two crewmen will be swimming back to the mainland. Aren’t there sharks in these waters?”

     Ramon’s face turned green. He quickly called one of the crew into his cabin. When the man appeared, Mercy crowned him from behind with the crystal decanter.

     Wulf grinned at her triumphant look. She was his, by God, and damn he felt proud of her! After tying up the crewman, he took the gun and left the cabin.

     The second crewman fell without a fight and Wulf stuck his head back into the cabin. “We’re on our way. Are you going to be all right staying in here with these two? You can keep the gun with you if you want.”

     Mercy’s eyes grew wide, and she shook her head.

     “Never mind. You look more comfortable with the decanter in your hands.” He allowed himself a quick smile and one long kiss. “Just be careful, all right?”

     Back at the controls Wulf grinned. Never would he forget that image: Mercy with wet clothes clinging to her body, sopping wet tennis shoes leaking on the hardwood floor, and her hand clutching the long neck of the crystal decanter.

     “Well, my friend, you return so soon,” Alberto said to Wulf as he strolled down the pier several minutes later. He sounded suspicious and wary until he saw Ramon pulled out of the cabin onto the deck, bound with his own necktie.

     Alberto laughed out loud, long and hard. Miguel joined in the laughter as soon as he saw the very ruffled and disgruntled Ramon. Alberto finally cleared his throat. “Welcome to the family, Mercy! You captured this old reprobate while the rest of us were sitting on our thumbs.” He glanced at Mercy’s dripping clothes.

     “
Madre de Dios
,” he said. “Get to the
casa
. Tia Rosa will find you something dry to wear.”

     He looked Wulf’s large physique up and down. “For you,
señor
, it might be a little harder, but we shall see. Come, come,” he said, escorting them along the beach to the stairs at the cliff. “You must be in shock from all of this.”

     Wulf still didn’t like
any
of Mercy’s family. No wonder Pedro never returned to Mexico. And personally, Wulf didn’t give a damn
who
got the money. He just wanted to get the hell out of here.

     Mercy stumbled on the first step and Wulf picked her up, starting up the steps to the house.

     “Wulf, I can walk. This is ridiculous,” Mercy grumbled.

     “Hush! You look like hell,” he said, grunting from the extra burden of her weight. By God, she was a woman a man liked to hold in his arms. He squeezed her lightly. She was lush and soft in all the right places.

     “Gee, thanks,” she said, giving him a peevish look. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” It was strange, but he couldn’t remember the name of a single woman he’d ever dated.

     “Rosa, help Mercy change into some dry clothes,” Alberto said to his wife as soon as they entered the house.

     “Go with Miguel,
señor
,” Alberto motioned to Wulf. “He’ll take care of some clothes for you.”

     As they walked down the hall, Wulf’s internal alarm began to ring. Miguel was way too antsy, glancing behind them as if expecting trouble. Wulf spun around quickly but couldn’t avoid the stunning blow.

* * *

     Wulf woke in darkness and looked around the room waiting for his eyes to adjust. He was lying on a bed with a new bump on his head.

     Light crept in through the crack beneath the door, guiding his feet as he got up and tiptoed over. He slipped the door open, studying the guard sitting on a chair in the hallway. Wulf snuck back to the bed and made a bundle of pillows, drawing the covers over them. He hid behind the door before tossing a book onto the floor. When the guard outside peered in the door to see what the disturbance was, Wulf knocked him flat with an exquisite, hand-carved, wooden candlestick.

     Wulf dragged the guard into the room and tied his hands with a tie, using his shoestrings to tie his feet.

     He tucked the gun into the back of his still damp pants and tiptoed down the hallway toward the sound of voices.

     “But I told you! I don’t know where that money is hidden. At this point, I’m not even sure there is any money.”

     “Don’t play stupid,” Alberto said, impatience lacing his voice.

     “But what if my grandfather already spent it, or… or my grandmother, for that matter,” Mercy said, her voice fading.

     “Ramon said you knew where it was. Did you think he was just playing when he threatened to kill you before? Ramon plays for keeps. Tell us what you know, and we’ll let you keep some of it.”

     “I’ve already told you everything I know. Don’t you think I’d like to get rid of that damned money and go back to my normal life?”

     “But you returned here. Why?”

     “I have had enough of this! You people are all crazy!” Mercy shouted. “All you care about is money. And where is Wulf? If you’ve done anything to him,” she choked on her words, “so help me, I’ll never forgive you.”

     A confusion of voices outside the house caught Wulf’s attention. There was so much yelling and cursing, he could barely catch it all, but one of the voices he recognized—Sylvia Fuentes!

     “I demand that you release my granddaughter,” Sylvia said. The firmness in her voice surprised Wulf. “I want Señor Rheinhart, too. You will produce him, or you will regret it.” His shoes, while still damp, didn’t squish when he walked anymore at least.

     “Someone looking for me?”

     “Señor Rheinhart, so you have decided to join us,” Alberto said, one eyebrow raised in surprise. “I hope you are feeling better.”

     “No thanks to you,” Wulf said, stepping past Alberto to Mercy. She jumped into his arms, swamping his senses with tenderness and love. “I love you. Hang in there,” he murmured to her in German.

     She nodded briefly and laid her head against his chest with a sigh.

     “I know you don’t want me to make the Ovilla murder public again, Alberto,” Sylvia said. “You know I have the documents to prove your connection. That is only one of the things I will turn over to the authorities if you do not release Mercy, Wulf, and Ramon to me.”

     “You put their lives above that of your own sons? You are an unnatural mother!” Alberto hissed.

     “That may be,” Sylvia continued, “but I do not think you want your drug transactions with Panama, the Dominican Republic, Guatemala, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica, and—oh, yes, I almost forgot—Colombia, made public knowledge. What would the government of Mexico do if they knew how much you skimmed off the top of those deals before you gave them their cut?”

     Alberto blanched. “Ramon is another mad dog. Why have you not done something about him?”

     Sylvia didn’t even blink. “Mario will take care of Ramon.” She put her arm around Mercy and guided her outside to the waiting limo.

     Wulf followed, stepping out of the nest of vipers with sheer relief. Two large guards hauled out Ramon. He glanced at them as he shrugged off the guards and stumbled into the car, wiping blood from his chin. Wulf wanted to rough up Ramon a little himself, but it seemed the Fuentes brothers had gotten there ahead of him.

     Mercy was exhausted. She leaned on Wulf, grateful for his rock-hard strength. If anything had happened to him… It didn’t matter what he’d done or said in the past. Saul was right. You can’t choose the person you love, and she knew, right or wrong, that she loved Wulf.

     “Where are we going?” Mercy finally asked.

     “We will go to the airport in Acapulco and then take our plane back to Chihuahua. You look like you could use a good rest. You will be safe this time, I promise,” Mario assured her.

     “Thank you,” Mercy said gratefully, snuggling closer to Wulf. She glanced at Ramon, huddled in a corner of the limo.

     “Do not let Ramon disturb you,” Sylvia said. “He,” she gestured a hand at Mario, seated behind the wheel of the limo, “is the real power in our family.” She smiled at the look on Wulf’s face.

     “I had no idea what my father had in mind when I left you at his yacht,” Mario explained. “He was supposed to take you back to the harbor at Acapulco and then bring you home on the plane. We had our informant watching all your movements. A good thing, no? When we heard what had happened, I don’t mind telling you, Tia Sylvia was beside herself.”

     “I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble,” Mercy said.

     Mario waved a hand in dismissal. “Everything would’ve been fine if my father hadn’t put his finger in the pot and stirred things up a little.” He shrugged and clicked his tongue.

     “You could never displease me,
nieta
,” Sylvia said with a quiet smile.

     “Nevertheless, thank you both,” Wulf said, pulling Mercy closer to him.

     “I am ashamed of you, Ramon,” Sylvia continued. “You have dishonored this family. At least your son has the integrity befitting the Chamorro name.” She stared at Ramon until he flushed and looked down at his feet, refusing to say anything. When he did look up, his eyes flashed with hatred, like an old, wounded animal, and Wulf knew wounded animals could be dangerous.

* * *

     “
Señor
, you need to get out of these clothes,” Mario said as soon as they entered the house. “Your room is waiting for you.”

     Before Wulf left to change, he grabbed Mercy and planted a long, possessive kiss on her mouth, in full sight of Sylvia, Ramon, and Mario. “You’d better get changed too,” he told her. Mercy looked down at her clothes in surprise. She still wore the Mexican skirt and blouse that Tia Rosa had given her earlier. Wet splotches covered her whole side where she had sat next to Wulf in the limo and then again on the plane. Now she had wet splotches all down her front too. She smiled at his retreating back, remembering the very
first
time she’d gotten sopping wet with him.

     Wulf stopped in the doorway to the main room, struck anew by Mercy’s beauty. The bright yellow of her Mexican blouse set off her dark hair and olive skin as she laughed and talked with her grandmother. Did she realize how much she’d changed and how much of that change reflected itself in her radiant face and confident attitude? If only she wasn’t so reckless with her safety!

     Her eyes flew to his as he came into the room. He watched her swallow nervously, her face an expressive panorama of love and forgiveness, as well as physical longing. Wulf smiled at her as Mario handed him a glass of wine.

     During dinner and the rest of the evening, Wulf and Mario discussed the oil business while Sylvia and Mercy contributed only a few comments. In the main
sala
after dinner, Sylvia’s quiet dignity almost made Wulf laugh. He would never forget the kind of power she wielded with her sons. Her fragile appearance was
definitely
not what it seemed.

     “Where’s Ramon?” he finally asked. 

     “Ramon has chosen to have his meal in his room. He’s returning to Mexico City tomorrow,” Sylvia said, dismissing Ramon with a wave of her hand. “But please, take a few days to relax here. It would do you both good after all the excitement.”

     “Our security has been properly restored now,” Mario assured them with an ingratiating smile.