Hidden Agenda (18 page)

“Orders are orders, Mateo!” Cord ranted; spinning around on his heel.

Matt quickly brought his temper under control. “She’s now Eve Arroyo.”

Cord registered the shift in Matt’s mood immediately. “Why didn’t you tell me she was Blackwell’s niece when I told you Delgado was no longer your target?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“That’s because I didn’t know.” He moved closer to Matt, analyzing his expression. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you? Blackwell sets you up with his niece and you fall in love with the woman.” His bubbling laughter bounced off the walls of the small room.

Matt removed his bow tie and the onyx stud under his pleated shirt’s wing collar. “What the hell is so funny?”

“You, Mateo. You’re getting soft, old man.” He took a glance at Matt’s scowling face and sobered quickly. “You have impeccable taste. Eve Blackwell Arroyo is exquisite.”

Matt had to agree. “That she is, Cordero,” he confirmed, the vibrancy in his tone revealing the depth of affection he had for the woman he’d claimed for his wife. “You’d better get back before someone realizes you’re missing.” He held out his hand. “I’ll see you in three days. Eve will be ready.”

Cord took the proffered hand. “Thanks for making it easy for me. By the way, I’ve had a chance to talk to Delgado. It looks as if he’s willing to meet with you.”

Matt didn’t take the chair Cord had vacated once he left the room. He was too wound up to sit. He had only three days with Eve, and in another seven it all would be over. Joshua Kirkland had set up and mobilized the operation which had been given the code name MESA before someone sought to eliminate him.

David Cole walked into the hospital room and Matt rose slowly from the chair beside Joshua’s bed. His once shoulder-length, wavy black hair was cut close
to his scalp, the diamond stud in his left ear was gone, and his perennial black attire had been replaced by an expertly tailored, lightweight, dark gray suit.

Eyes as black as pitch were fixed on the motionless figure on the narrow hospital bed. “How is he?”

Matt ran a large hand over the stubble on his chin, then massaged the tight muscles in his neck. He’d waited patiently for David Cole’s arrival from Costa Rica.

“He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“How is he?” David repeated, tension quivering in his voice.

“The doctor thinks he has a good chance of making it.”

David leaned over and placed a brown hand on Joshua’s forehead. His skin was moist, but cool. “Help me get him out of this cesspool.”

Joshua’s inert body was covered with a sheet as Matt and David carried him on a stretcher from the hospital to an awaiting converted ambulance.

David extended his hand. “Thanks again. It seems as if the Coles owe you another one, Matt.”

Matt managed a tired smile. “Think nothing of it. Joshua and I go back a long way. I owe him my life.”

“And we owe you. Joshua and I aren’t as close as he and Martin, but we’re still brothers. I think it’s time we became better acquainted.”

“How are you getting him back?”

David tugged at his left ear. “I have a medical team standing by with a helicopter at Ejutala. From there we’ll fly into Oaxaca. The company jet will take us home.”

Matt patted David’s broad shoulder. “Good luck. Send Martin and Parris my best for the new baby, and let Regina know that I asked about her.”

“Why don’t you come for a visit? Regina has grown into quite a beauty.”

“I’ll take you up on the invitation one of these days. Right now I’m anxious to get back to my wife.”

Matt watched David climb into the back of the ambulance and close the door. He was able to draw a normal breath for the first time in more than twelve hours. He waited until the vehicle disappeared in a cloud of red dirt before he turned to where he had parked his car.

Eve. He was going back to her, and he did not want to think of the time when he would have to hand her over to Cord, to be escorted back to the United States and safety.

He glanced up at the brilliant, cloudless sky. At least he was given a three-day reprieve.

L
ilian Martín opened her door to a weary Mateo Arroyo. “Eve has not slept all night, Mateo. She’s been waiting up for you.” He followed Lilian into the kitchen and she handed him a cup of steaming black coffee. “She helped me put the babies to bed, but wouldn’t go herself.”

“She’ll sleep after I take her home,” Matt replied, giving Lilian a tired smile. “She has trouble falling asleep in a strange—”

He couldn’t finish his sentence as Eve walked into the kitchen. She saw him and her eyes widened, a trembling hand going to her mouth. She moaned his name and Matt was beside her, catching her sagging body to his chest while placing tiny kisses on her closed lids.

“Eve. My precious, Eve,” Matt whispered against her ear.

Eve thought she had dreamt him up. All night she had sat waiting for him, and when the sky brightened with the beginning of a new day she had almost given up hope. Waiting and praying; praying and waiting. For the past six months she’d prayed and waited enough for Chris to last her a lifetime. Now she’d added Matt to her prayer list. She felt his warmth and his strength. Pressing closer, Eve wanted to fuse herself with Matt, become a part of him.

“Matt, my darling,” she half-laughed and cried, inhaling his familiar masculine scent. She wanted to touch him all over, love him until she fainted from the ecstasy he wrung from her.

Eve gave a small cry of protest as he pulled away. “It’s all right, Baby. I’m going to take you home where I’m going to show you just how much I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

She stared up at her husband, not seeing the strain and fatigue ringing his generous mouth. All she knew was that she loved him, and he would give her back her child.

“Let’s go home, Matt.”

Eve had drifted off to sleep by the time Matt slipped into bed beside her. She’d promised to wait for him while he shaved and showered, but couldn’t. He, on the other hand, was wide awake and operating on reserved adrenalin. His mind craved sleep but he knew that wasn’t possible until he made love to his wife.

Matt reached out for her, his fingers grazing bare flesh, and he smiled. Eve had left off her nightgown. The feel of her velvety skin snapped whatever control he had on his dammed passions.

Eve moaned in her sleep and settled back against Matt’s body. His hand moved from the curve of her hip, up over her ribs and to a full, firm, silken breast. As he fondled it gently, the nipple hardened against his palm.

She rolled over, the motion bringing her chest to his. His head dipped, and a jolt of erotic pleasure shocked Eve awake.

“Matt…oh, Matt,” she said, his name rolling off her tongue while he sucked her breasts in a drugging, agonizing, slow motion.

His breathing was slow, deep, and controlled, masking the throbbing hardness pressing against her belly. The fingers of one hand skimmed her abdomen, then her thigh.

Eve’s thighs parted involuntarily as a rush of moisture bathed her core. Her desire dampened his fingers, signaling she was ready, and Matt moved over her and she welcomed him into her body.

She felt the heat of his body course down the length of hers, and her whole being was scorched with a desire she hadn’t known she was capable of feeling.

She gripped his buttocks, pulling him closer. The rhythm he set changed, quickening. She followed his pace, arching as he drove into her, the thick blood-engorged length plunging in and out with longer and deeper strokes.

Matt buried his face against Eve’s neck, straining valiantly to prolong the ecstasy. Reaching down between their bodies, he spread the folds hiding her moist sex and exposed the tiny bud of flesh at the apex of her femininity. Angling his body slightly, he rubbed his member sensuously up and down against the distended
nub, and he achieved the reaction he sought from Eve as she stiffened, screaming out his name, then convulsed as her body opened and closed around his rigid flesh. The thrust of his powerful hips forced her thighs open wider and he exploded, filling her body with his hot seed.

He collapsed heavily on her, his chest heaving in exertion.
Sweet heaven, how can I send her back?
Did he have the strength to let her go?

Reversing their positions, Matt held Eve to his chest until they both fell asleep.

Matt sat watching Eve’s animated face, not touching his dinner.

“Matt,” she scolded in a gentle voice. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying.”

He twisted several strands of spaghetti around his fork, then gave up the pretense all together. Covering his face with one hand, he exhaled slowly.

“I’m sorry, Eve,” he apologized through his fingers.

“I’m sorry, Matt. I’ve been clucking like a barnyard hen while you’re falling asleep—”

“I’m not tired,” he cut in sharply. Pushing back his chair, he rose to his feet. “Excuse me,” he mumbled before walking out of the dining room.

It had finally hit him. The fairy tale was over and it was back to reality. Ugly, dirty reality and the job he had been paid to do.

He wanted to admit that he’d forgotten the reason he was operating in Mexico. He wanted to forget that he was to uncover the person or persons responsible for leaking information about how the American and Mexican governments were cooperating
to eradicate the flow of drugs from Mexico into the United States.

In the past some Mexico officials had proved infuriatingly evasive, looking the other way or denying a Mexican-American marijuana, cocaine and heroin connection; now that the Mexican government had offered their full support, someone in the States wanted to sabotage the campaign.

Even with the removal of DEA Director Nathaniel Webb the leak had not been stopped. The attempt on Joshua Kirkland’s life meant that the mole knew exactly who he was. Only a half dozen people were privy to Joshua’s function within the U.S. military.

Matt walked out of the house and lit up a cigar. He drew deeply on the fragrant tobacco and stared up at the darkened sky littered with millions of twinkling stars. The heavens were clear, indicating there would be no rain this night.

He inhaled deeply, taking in the fragrance of blooming night flowers, damp earth, and rotting vegetation over the odor of cigar smoke. The nearby forest was quiet, except for night predators preying on the weak and unsuspecting.

Focusing on a wall of black, he tried vainly to see through it. His concentration was slipping. He had to identify which one of the people involved in Operation MESA knew that Joshua was the mastermind, people he had worked with before on other covert missions. He mentally eliminated the three who had on one or more occasion shielded him from certain death: Manuel Rivera, Lupe Morales, and Rene Izquierdo; that left two: Cordero Birmingham and Jorge Martín.

He wanted to believe that Cordero wasn’t suspect, because it was Cord who had taken Joshua to the hospital. If he’d wanted Kirkland dead he would’ve finished the job.

Matt exhaled a stream of smoke, shaking his head. No, it couldn’t have been Cord. There would’ve been no way Cord would’ve been able to pull a knife on Joshua without being wounded or killed himself. Joshua’s hands and feet were as lethal as any gun, and Matt knew there had to have been more than one attacker.

That left one other person—Jorge Martín! Jorge was the agency’s senior drug law-enforcement agent in North America. It had become a personal vendetta for Jorge to lure and snare drug traffickers, after his youngest brother had been shot and crippled as he stood in a schoolyard during a lunch break. Several teenage dealers had gotten into an argument over territorial boundaries and begun shooting randomly, hitting the young boy in his spine.

Matt shrugged off the possibility that the mole could be Jorge. He couldn’t afford to become emotionally involved. If it was Jorge, then he’d report it to Harry and turn his back on the whole affair.

And he still had to find Christopher Delgado. Was the child still in Mexico? If he was, where?

He also wondered if Jorge had told Delgado that Mateo Arroyo secretly directed a heroin and cocaine enterprise which had proven to be quite lucrative because he was able to travel between the United States and Mexico with relative ease.

Dammit to hell, he was tired of it! Why couldn’t he just walk away and say to hell with it? When had he developed a conscience? He wanted to say that Eve
was responsible, but he had had enough of it before Blackwell had come to see him.

He crushed out the cigar and leaned against the side of the house. It was only one more job, one more with a bonus—Eve Sterling Arroyo. Somehow she would make all of it worthwhile.

Eve lay beside Matt, staring up at a void. She counted his measured, even breaths in the darkened room, and she knew he wasn’t asleep. She was amazed at how much she had learned about the man by sleeping with him.

She knew if he was tense or relaxed, awake or asleep, or if their coming together was an act of passion or one of desperation; and when Matt had returned to the house and joined her in bed, he came to her with a savage need which took her breath away.

He withdrew from her almost immediately and turned away. Without seeing, she knew the convulsions shaking his body were not from passion but from internal forces which would not allow him peace.

“If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen. But if you don’t, I’ll understand,” she stated gently.

Matt shifted, cradling her to his side. His right arm pillowed his head. The tension in his body eased slightly and she turned and slipped her leg over his. He inhaled deeply, then let out his breath slowly.

“I have to send you back.” The six words sounded like a sentence of death. “Cord’s going to come for you in two days.”

“Why?” she asked. The single word sounded like a sob.

“Harry Blackwell wants you home.”

Eve blinked back tears in the darkness of the bedroom. “Why, Matt? Why?” she repeated.

“You can’t remain here. It’s too dangerous.”

His words didn’t frighten her as much as the way he’d said them—in a lifeless monotone.

“What about Chris?” She couldn’t stop the tears forming behind her eyelids.

“I’ll find him, Eve,” Matt said, trying to reassure her.

She nodded, brushing her fingers over her eyes and cheeks. She turned her face into his shoulder. “I believe you. I trust you.”

“I want you to love me,” he demanded. “If you love me I’ll make it,” he continued in an almost pleading tone.

Eve tried swallowing the lump which had formed in her throat. Realization dawned. Matt was afraid. Not for her, but for himself.

Pulling away from him, she sat up. “You’re involved in something which has nothing to do with my son, aren’t you?”

Matt also sat up. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She rose to her knees. “If I don’t know what I’m talking about, then why don’t you answer my question? What are you involved in?”

“It doesn’t concern you, Eve.”

She was too incensed to register the warning in his voice. “Tell me, Mateo.” Leaning over, she turned on the bedside lamp, flooding the room with light.

Matt reached out and pulled her across his body. “No,” he shouted, his hot breath searing her face.

“Does it have anything to do with Alex?”

His fingers sank painfully into the delicate flesh of her upper arms. “Listen, Eve, and listen good. Don’t—”

“Don’t!” Eve screamed back at him. “It’s always ‘don’t ask me anything.’ Do you know what I think, Matt? I think you’ve used me. You have your own hidden agenda where you play your dirty little games, but with me you get an added bonus. You marry me, pretend that you love me, then get free use of my body. Now I know why you wouldn’t accept any money from me. I pay you every time I lie down with you, Mateo Arroyo. And I don’t come cheap. I’ve
pleasured
you at least a dozen times since I became Señora Mateo Arroyo, so consider yourself
paid in full
for services rendered!”

Matt’s hands fell away, the blood draining from his face as rage hardened his features. His expression was a mask of stone. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he ground out through his teeth.

Freed, she slipped off the bed and backpedaled to the door. “I know exactly what I’m saying.”

Turning, she ran out of the bedroom and into the one she’d occupied when they first arrived in Puerto Angel, locking the door. She braced her back against the door, trembling. How could she have believed him? The tender words of love, the passion, and her response to his lovemaking?

She’d fallen in love with him, shared her body with him, and could possibly be carrying his child. The cold lump forming in the pit of her stomach spread, chilling her until she shook uncontrollably.

“Not again,” she whispered in a maelstrom of anguish and pain. First Alex, and now Matt. Was she destined to always pick the wrong husband?

A thud hit the door, followed by Matt shouting, “Open the door!”

Eve closed her eyes and pressed her fists against the solid wood. “Go away and leave me alone.”

“Open the damn door or I’ll break it down,” he threatened.

Naked and trembling she turned and faced the door. Matt’s duplicity dulled the pain and blinded her with rage. “I hope they kill you, and leave your body for the vultures.”

There was complete silence before a heavy thud hit the door, then another, and with each thud Eve moved further away from the door until she stood beside the bed. There was a crash and the wood splintered, leaving the door hanging crazily by one hinge.

Tilting her chin, Eve stared across the room at Matt standing in the doorway, praying her shaking legs would support her body, refusing to exhibit her fear. He had bullied her for the last time. She placed her hands on her hips and watched him walk slowly toward her.

Eve’s eyes narrowed into slits as she measured each step Matt took, and she was certain that if she hadn’t been so incensed she would’ve been turned on by the man, who looked like a large stalking jungle cat. Tall, large, dark, and naked, Matt was a magnificent male predator.

She took in the breadth of his shoulders, the bunched muscles in his upper arms, the power in his large hands, and the strength of his long, muscled legs, and she thought perhaps she’d pushed Matt too far. Her uncle hadn’t elaborately detailed Matthew Sterling’s exploits, but he had told her there were times when Matt did not need a weapon to subdue an opponent.