Eye of the Storm (30 page)

To the left a doorway led into what was presumably Isabella's bedroom. To the right a small table and chaise were arranged for an optimal view of the little garden. An ornate breakfast tray sat on the end of the chaise, the remnants of a croissant and some orange juice signaling that someone had been here—recently.

Simone realized she was smelling coffee along with the heady scent of the flowers.

"She was just here," Tate said, his voice tight with frustration.

"Maybe she's in the bedroom." Simone gestured toward the door with her gun.

Tate raised his hand to signal quiet as footsteps crunched in the gravel immediately outside the wall. Moving silently, he closed the distance between them, his lips by her ear. "You go on inside. I'll wait here and make sure we haven't got visitors."

She hesitated, hating the idea of splitting up. Something still didn't feel right.

"I'll be right behind you," he whispered in assurance, obviously seeing the doubt on her face. "It's time to put an end to this once and for all."

"I STILL DON'T understand what you think this is going to accomplish," Martin said, looking over at Reece.

"Hopefully it's going to get us inside the compound. Which will be that much closer to Simone. After that we're on our own." Reece downshifted as they took a hill at top speed, the right wheels of the Range Rover momentarily lifting off the ground.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but we're already pretty much on our own." Martin's glib comment was meant to ease the tension but somehow it only seemed to add to it. "I still don't see what Tate has to gain by having us killed."

"He eliminates witnesses. If he's really been behind all of this, then I'm guessing he's the one who killed Bea and Mather. Maurice, too."

"But what about Carlos? He's very real. And very dead."

"I don't know. It doesn't all fit together, I'll admit. But maybe Tate used him. Lured him into all of this so he'd kill us."

"But it didn't work."

"No. So Derek got the job."

"Well, I suppose that's two for the good guys." Martin smiled, then sobered, obviously thinking of Marguerite. "So why go to all this trouble. Why not take Simone out early on and avoid the fallout?"

"Again, I'm just speculating—" the engine whined as they took another curve without slowing "—but I'm thinking he needed Simone to kill Isabella. So he orchestrated things in a way that would make Simone believe Isabella was responsible for the deaths of her friends and, conceivably, us. Make her angry enough to kill the woman. Then once she'd done his dirty work, I'm guessing Tate planned to take her out of the equation, too."

"Only we're talking about more than speculation here. And if you're right, then we've all played right into Tate's hands."

"Except that we're still alive."

"So you think Tate's the one who framed you? Seems like he'd want you out of the way, not in the middle of it all."

"Nah, he knew Simone would worry about us. Maybe even abandon the quest. So he figured out a way to give her even more incentive. Find Isabella and clear my name, give us back our fife."

"But he can't have known she'd do that. You're divorced."

"But Simone is loyal."

"No shit," Martin sighed. "The twenty-thousand- dollar question, though, is why? Why the hell after all this time would Tate suddenly decide he wanted to eliminate the members of D-9?"

"I agree that's the big question. But it's got something to do with Isabella Ramirez and whatever the hell really happened in Sangre de Cristo all those years ago. And I'm betting Isabella's visit to Maurice is what set this whole chain of events in motion." He slowed the car as they approached the compound, the main gates looming up ahead.

Martin tugged nervously at his collar. "You're sure we can pull this off?"

"It's not exactly a stretch." Reece sighed, pulling the car to a halt in front of the gate. "I am an attorney. Just not in private practice. But they don't know that."

"You'd better hope not." Martin blew out a breath. "So I'm what, your associate?"

"Hardly," Reece stepped out of the Range Rover and pocketed the keys, pushing Derek's sunglasses up on his nose. "You're an intern. First-year law student. Believe me, you look the part."

"And once we're inside, what do we do then?"

"I haven't got a clue. But we'll improvise." He met his brother's eyes over the top of the car. "We don't have a choice. If I'm right about all of this, Simone's life depends on it."

Reece walked up to the gate, wishing there were some way to smuggle in the gun. But he knew damn well that they'd be searched. And besides, there was no reason for Carlos Ramirez's attorney to arrive packing a piece.

Fingering the little crucifix, Reece said a silent prayer and knocked. A little window slid open, the occupant on the other side obscured by shadow.

"I'm here to see Isabella Ramirez," Reece said, using his most arrogant courthouse voice.

"And you would be?" the man spoke in accented English.

"Reece Sheridan. I'm an attorney." He passed the business card Tim had given him through the window. It seemed like eons ago that he'd had a drink with his friend to discuss the possibility of opening a practice together. "I'm here on behalf of Isabella's brother, Carlos."

The man took the card, and moments passed while he presumably examined it. "Carlos is dead."

"I know. That's why I've come. He requested I bring something to his sister."

"Give it me," he said. "I will see that she gets it."

"No." Reece shook his head. "I promised I'd give it to her myself."

He heard the man say something softly in Spanish. There was silence and then the man spoke again. He was clearly talking on a radio or phone. Reece heard his name, and Carlos's, then another silence, followed by the creaking of the door slowly opening.

Four men stood on the other side. All of them heavily armed. The gatekeeper stood to one side, an automatic machine gun held in plain sight, his expression giving nothing away. "Come in."

Martin shot him a look of trepidation, but Reece ignored it, instead stepping through the doorway, motioning his brother to follow.

"No." The gateman shook his head, waving the machine gun. "Just you."

"I'm sorry," Reece said, ignoring the gun, acting as if they were having a perfectly normal interchange. "This is an associate of mine. And I'd prefer he stay with me."

The man hesitated, shot a look at a cordless phone lying on a table, then at his compadres and shrugged. "In here." He directed them into a small courtyard leading to a guarded archway and presumably beyond that to the main house. Behind them, Reece could hear the gate being shut and locked.

Two more men came out of what appeared to be an office of some kind, both also carrying weapons. That made seven. Not exactly great odds. But Simone was inside somewhere, and he wasn't about to give up without a fight.

"Turn around," the gatekeeper said, handing his gun to one of his associates. "We need to check for weapons."

Reece held out his arms, nodding at Martin to do the same. The man was anything but gentle, his sneer indicating that he'd probably like to do a whole hell of a lot more than just search them. But it was over almost before it had begun, and the gatekeeper was nodding toward one of the other men. "Go with Jaime. He'll take you to Ramón."

"But we're here to see Isabella," Reece said, feigning irritation. "I have no time for underlings." It was a bit of a risk, but he'd learned long ago that punks responded to authority.

"No one sees Senorita Ramirez without seeing Ramón first.
Comprende
?" The man's eyes narrowed as he dared Reece to look away. But Reece had been playing this same game with every loser that had come into the courtroom. Playing and winning. The gatekeeper held his stare for one beat, two.. .and then, with a frown, he dropped his gaze.

Maybe Reece's world and Simone's weren't that far apart after all.

Without giving the man a second look, Reece moved to follow Jaime. Martin fell in step beside him. "That was ballsy," Martin whispered.

"No." Reece shook his head. "Calculated. But I don't have too many more tricks up my sleeve, so this had better work."

They walked through the elaborately carved archway, the gravel path changing to saltillo tile as they entered yet another courtyard, this one featuring a beautiful lanai. Wicker furniture was arranged artfully in groupings designed to take advantage of the breeze, crystal vases and lamps glittering in the sunlight.

If it weren't for the cadre of armed men flanking the edges, the place would have seemed idyllic.

"It isn't often we have American visitors at
El Ojo de la Tormenta
." An older man in an immaculate linen suit stood in yet another archway, his bearing patrician, his expression purposefully neutral. An adversary surely, but one to be admired, not rejected. "You worked for Carlos, I'm told?"

"I represented him, yes." Reece, too, kept his tone non-committal, the two men sizing each other up. "And I'm here at his behest."

"To see Isabella." Despite his facade, Reece could hear a trace of skepticism in the old man's voice.

"To give her something. Carlos was specific that if anything should happen to him, I was to get this to Isabella." Like a magician producing a dove, Reece opened his hand, the little crucifix glittering in the light.

"
Mi Dios
." The old man started to reach for the cross and then stopped himself, his eyes going cold. "Where did you get that?"

"Carlos gave it to me. He knew that he was in danger. And he wanted to be certain that the crucifix was given to his sister should anything happen to him."

"And now he is dead," the old man spat. All attempt at neutrality forgotten in his grief. "How am I to know that you are not the one who pulled the trigger?"

"Because I tell you I am not." Reece closed his hand on the cross. "But if you would prefer that I take it with me, then so be it." He turned to go, trying to ignore the gunmen standing in the other archway.

"Wait." Ramón held up a hand, and Reece turned back to him. Martin watched the two of them, his expression carefully masked. "Isabella would not wish for me to be inhospitable to a friend of her brother's." It was clear by the way he used the word that he hadn't decided whether he believed Reece or not. But at least for the moment he was giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Ramón moved out onto the lanai, motioning for Martin and Reece to take a seat. Martin glanced at his brother, his eyes full of questions, but Reece simply nodded and took a seat in the chair opposite the old man's.

A woman appeared in the archway, carrying a tray with a pitcher and glasses. She set it on the table next to Ramón. He nodded, and she carefully filled three glasses, giving one to Reece, one to Martin and the last to Ramón. Without a word, she turned and left, the old man sitting in silence until she had withdrawn. Then he lifted his glass. "We drink to Carlos."

Silently, Reece raised his glass, with Martin following suit. They all drank, Reece fighting his frustration. Simone was somewhere inside the compound, quite possibly in trouble. And he was stuck sitting here drinking sangria.

"Do you know the history of the crucifix?"

Reece considered bluffing, and then decided against it. "No. Carlos only told me that it was important for me to get it to Isabella." He opened his hand again, the cross bright against his palm.

"It was a gift from their father. Carlos got it on the day he was confirmed. Isabella has one exactly like it. After Sangre de Cristo." He paused, frowning. "You know of this, yes?"

Reece nodded.

"After Hector's death," he continued, "there was only Isabella and Carlos. Everyone wanted them dead. The government feared that if even one Ramirez was left alive, the dream of rebellion would not die. So we had to hide them. Carlos in America. Isabella here in the mountains."

"But surely after the furor died down, your government lost interest?" Reece was caught up in the tale despite himself.

"After years had passed and the government was more secure, interest diminished but never went away. And we all believed that it was better to keep the two of them apart. That way it would be more difficult to eliminate them. But there was a price to pay. Isabella had lost everything, and now she could not even be with her brother."

Ramón stopped to take a sip of his sangria, studying Reece for a moment before continuing. "So Carlos told her that any time she felt alone, all she had to do was touch her crucifix, and he'd be there, if not in body, then in spirit. For many years, that promise sustained Isabella. Sometimes I think it is that cross that kept her alive."

"And now?"

"Now she is a grown woman. The head of her family. She mourns the loss of her brother, and I know she will be grateful that you have brought her the crucifix."

"Will you let me give it to her?" Reece asked, certain already of what the answer would be.

The old man shook his hand. "I'm afraid that I cannot allow that. I have nothing but this card—" he flipped it so that it was lying in the flat of his palm "—to prove that you are who you say you are."

"And I have nothing else to offer except my word that I mean her no harm."

Again Ramón studied his face, and again Reece knew that he was found wanting.

They sat for a moment, each of them assessing the other, then the older man nodded to the men still standing in the archway. Gatekeeper and one of his compadres came forward, guns in hand, motioning Reece and Martin to stand.

"If you really worked for Carlos, then you will understand the delicacy of the situation, and you will give the cross to me." Ramón held out his hand.

The crucifix was Reece's only ace. If he gave it away, the hand was played. And yet, he knew that sometimes the only way to get what you wanted was to sacrifice it all. He thought of Simone, of what Tate might be doing to her, and slowly opened his fingers, reaching out to drop the cross into the old man's hand.

Keeping his gaze steady, he turned to go, ignoring Martin's flash of confusion.