Hidden Agenda (20 page)

E
ve did not return Cordero Birmingham’s sober greeting before he stacked her bags in the back of an old, battered, four-wheel-drive pickup truck. He hadn’t bothered to ask for Matt, and she didn’t volunteer to tell him. A denim shirt, jeans, and boots replaced his usual tailored suits and imported footwear, while a black baseball cap concealed his recognizable dark red hair.

She sat in the truck beside Cord, watching him put the ancient vehicle into gear. As they moved slowly down the steep, rutted hill Cord squinted behind the lenses of his sunglasses.

“Don’t worry about Mateo,” he said, not glancing over at his silent passenger. “He loves you too much to get careless.” Eve’s head spun around. “He has told you that he loves you, hasn’t he?”

Eve stared at Cord’s well-defined profile with his
thin, hawklike nose and high cheekbones. Seeing him like this allowed her to see another side of Matt’s friend. There was an aura of hardness layered beneath his youthful appearance; hardness and ruthlessness.

“Yes, he has,” she finally answered. “As many times as I’ve told him that I love him,” she added, this eliciting a smile from Cord.

He shifted his dark eyebrows. “If that’s the case, then why the long face?”

She returned her gaze to the mud-dotted windshield. “Have you ever been in love?”

Frowning, he shook his head. “No. At least I don’t believe or think I have. But what does that have to do with it?”

“Everything.” Her eyes were filled with the love she found difficult to conceal. “When you find that special someone, you’ll discover the emptiness only a separation can bring.”

Cord chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind when I think about taking off and leaving a woman behind,” he said flippantly. “If I feel as if my heart is being ripped out, then I’ll know
she’s
the one.”

Eve’s sulky mood lifted. “You sound like a real heartbreaker, Cordero Birmingham.”

Cord grinned broadly. “There’s nothing wrong with love them and leave them.” Shifting into a lower gear, he steered off the road to a jungle foot trail. “I’ll drop you off in another kilometer,” he informed her, changing the subject. “From there you’ll be transported to an airstrip where a prop job will pick you up to take you to Mexico City. Once there, you’ll travel first-class back to Washington.”

Eve closed her eyes, clutching the medals nestled
between her breasts. How was she going to make it through
two
flights without dissolving into hysterics? She hadn’t completely overcome her fear of flying.

Cord slowed the pickup, searching for the almost nonexistent trail to the shack where a man waited to transport Eve Blackwell-Arroyo to the next relay sector.

“There he is,” he murmured under his breath.

“You’re right on time, Cordero,” said a slight, dark-skinned man. He stepped from the cover of massive, towering trees and approached the driver’s side of the truck.

“Make certain you get her to Manny on time,” Cord ordered in Spanish. He motioned with his head toward Eve. “If anything happens to her, none of us will be able to stop the carnage.”

The man nodded. “I read you.”

Within minutes, Eve was transferred from the truck to a dilapidated Volkswagen. Wrinkling her nose, she dared
not
guess what or who had been the previous passengers.

Her driver did not look at her once after he’d stored her bags in the backseat. He stared straight ahead and chewed a wad of tobacco, and she prayed he would not use the interior of the tiny car for a spittoon as evidenced by the dark, rancid-smelling stains on the seats and dashboard.

Because of the early hour, the road was not crowded. There was an occasional vehicle and several buses filled with farmhands on their way to the fields. The heat of the sun was brutal and she was conscious of her blouse sticking to her moist flesh, outlining the shape of her breasts.

Eve concentrated on the monotonous passing countryside—anything
to keep her mind off Matt. Biting down hard on her lower lip, she thought of Chris. Her firstborn, her son. She had been so close; closer than she’d ever been before and still her arms were empty, and she wondered if she would ever see or hold him again.

She had come to Mexico to find her child and found love instead, love and a new husband, and now she was leaving without any of them. She covered her face with her fingers.

“
¿Enferma, Señora?
”

It took Eve several seconds before she realized her driver was asking about her health. Smiling, she shook her head. The illness she’d acquired could not be cured by any doctor.

The journey continued along the dusty road and past towns where the division of classes were clearly visible, as evidenced by large sprawling homes and tiny structures with tin roofs whose interiors never cooled even after sunset.

At one point the dust became so thick that she was forced to raise the window to keep from choking. Her hair, skin, and clothes were littered with the tiny, red particles.

The driver turned off the road and headed in the direction of the mountains. Eve then knew he wasn’t taking a direct route because he wanted to avoid being followed. She clenched her teeth as the Volkswagen bumped over uneven surfaces. Weak springs under the seat stabbed her bottom and legs with every jolt.

Miraculously, the car made the climb up the steep hill, wheezing whenever the gears shifted. The trees and undergrowth thickened, closing around them until
dense foliage slapped at the windshield. They bucked for another half mile, then stopped.

“Señora.”

Eve looked around her, then at the driver. He gestured for her to follow him. She opened the door, squeezing through the small opening. If the car had been any wider it never would’ve been able to navigate the narrow trail.

She had no choice but to follow the man as he carried her bags and scrambled up the side of the mountain like a nimble goat. She took several steps, then she heard a pinging noise. She recognized the sound immediately. Someone was shooting in their direction.

Eve hit the ground, covering her head with her arms. There were two more shots, then silence. The sound of running footsteps reverberated in her ears.
It can’t be, it can’t end like this
, she thought.

The figure looming above her shielded the rays from the sun, but she didn’t move. She thought of her son and how his life would mirror her own. She had grown up without a mother, and so would he. But she had survived. Chris would also survive.

She was going to die and she was not afraid. She had lived and found love, and for that she was grateful.

Strong fingers curved around her upper arms, lifting her from the ground. “You’re in no danger, Señora.”

Her head came up quickly. The man spoke English. Shock, not fear, filled her eyes as she found herself face-to-face with Alejandro Delgado.

He tightened his grip as she attempted to free herself. “I can’t allow you to go home. Not yet.” His dark brown eyes narrowed. “You, Señora Arroyo, are my ticket out of this country with my head intact.”

“Go to hell!” she yelled at him.

Alejandro’s face was a mask of fury. “Get her out of here,” he shouted in Spanish to the man who came toward them, a high-powered rifle slung over his back. “And pay him,” he ordered, gesturing toward Eve’s driver.

Eve’s temper exploded and she turned on her driver. “
¡Cabrón!
” The stinking goat had delivered her to her enemy.

“Take her!” Alex shouted, turning his back and making his way up the incline.

The man with the rifle threw a wad of money at the driver, then extended his hand to Eve. “Señora,
por favor
.”

Eve saw compassion in the man’s eyes. Something in his gaze pleaded with her not to cross his boss. She jerked away from his outstretched fingers and walked past him, following Alex.

She made it up the hill without assistance, stopping short. On the other side of the rise was a strip of flat land where a twin-engine aircraft stood waiting for her.

She had come to Mexico looking for her ex-husband, but he had found her instead. She stared at the silvery shape of the small plane, the sun reflecting off its surface, and she knew someone had alerted Alex of its location and who was to be the passenger.

Following Alex to a dark sedan parked under the sweeping branches of a copse of trees, she gave him a penetrating look for the first time. He hadn’t changed at all. In spite of the heat, his straight, black hair was neatly combed, and his clothes were impeccable.

There were times when she wondered what it was that had drawn her to him, and it was always the same: his British-accented English, perfect features which
made him almost too pretty to be a man, and his endearing smile and charm that concealed a vain, selfish, and vindictive personality.

She glanced at the plane, and Alex saw the direction of her gaze. “Don’t worry, Eve. I’ll let you go as soon as I obtain clearance for my own safety.”

“What about my son? Will you let him go, or will you continue to hold him hostage?”

Frowning, Alex removed a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and dabbed his forehead. “What are you talking about?”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Don’t play dumb, Alex! My son. Of course you remember Christopher Delgado.”

He put the handkerchief away, the natural color draining from his face. “I sent him back.”

Eve felt faint and she reached out, capturing his arm. “When?” She could hardly contain her relief.

“I put him on a plane Christmas Eve. I wanted him to be home for his birthday.”

“No!” she screamed once before Alex’s hand tightened on her wrist.

“Where is he, Eve?”

She began to shake as fearful images paralyzed her mind. He’d sent her baby back, and Chris never arrived. “I don’t know.” The three words slipped out in slow motion.

Alex pushed Eve into the back of the sedan and sat beside her. “Let’s go,” he ordered his driver.

“Who knew you were sending him back?” Eve mumbled, pressing her head against the back of the seat. Her pounding, runaway pulse made it difficult for her to draw a normal breath.

“Harry Blackwell.”

Uncle Harry, Matt Sterling, and Alex Delgado. Had the three men conspired to drive her crazy?

“I don’t believe you, Alex.”

He covered her left hand with his right. Delicate eyebrows arched on his smooth forehead. “I know I’ve given you cause not to like me very much, Eve. And because you didn’t love me as much as I wanted you to, I tried to hurt you. I tried every conceivable way that I could to destroy you.” He closed his eyes and long lashes shaded his cheekbones. “I wanted to be a good husband to you, but I didn’t know how.

“You were the only woman I’d ever wanted to marry because I thought having you as my wife would make everything I’d strived for complete. But you were so aloof that you became a challenge. A challenge I couldn’t resist.” His eyes widened and the dark orbs danced wildly with passion. “I tried so hard to make you love me. Even when I heard you say it, I didn’t believe it.”

Withdrawing her hand, Eve clasped them together on her lap. “More lies?”

“No. For once in my life I’m not lying to you. I contacted your uncle and told him that I was sending the boy back. Blackwell said he would pick him up at the airport. That was the last time I spoke to Harry Blackwell.”

Eve felt as if something stopped her from breathing. Why had her uncle used her? For what reason had he deceived her? And how could he use an innocent child?

Alex put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do about the child.”

“Why do you call him ‘the child’? Don’t you care? He’s your son,” she said against his chest.

Alex’s expression was closed, impassive. “He’s your son, Eve. I may have fathered him, but he has always been your son. Never mine.”

Eve was back in Puerto Escondido and in Alejandro Delgado’s house, and even though she was informed that she wasn’t a prisoner she was shown to a bedroom and locked behind the door by the stoic man who was her ex-husband’s bodyguard.

She lay on the bed, unseeing eyes staring up at the ceiling, failing to understand her uncle’s behavior—if Alex had told her the truth. And where did Matt fit into the scenario? Had her uncle also set him up, or did Matt know where Chris was?

The questions tumbled over themselves inside her head, and after a while she was ready to scream.

She didn’t stir as she heard a key in the lock. The aroma of food filled the room and she closed her eyes.

Alex stood next to the bed, staring down at Eve. She had matured. When he left her she was still a girl. Now she was a woman—all woman.

“Lupe tells me you won’t eat.”

“Get out.” There was no emotion in her voice.

“I can’t do that, Eve. You must eat something.”

“For the last time—I don’t want to eat.”

Alex placed the tray on a bedside table. Reaching out, he pulled Eve into a sitting position. Her eyes opened and she glared at him. There was no mistaking her hatred for him.

“I don’t want you dead, Señora Arroyo. And that’s what you might be by the time your uncle
gets around to granting me amnesty. I need you alive and healthy.”

Eve’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Amnesty for what? For kidnapping your son?”

Alex released her, straightening. He turned his back, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “It has nothing to do with my taking the child.”

“What are you involved in?”

His shoulders slumped under his crisp white shirt. He couldn’t tell her that he’d been marked for death by corrupt officials within the Mexican government; corrupt officials he’d identified who had stolen millions of dollars from U.S. companies doing business in Mexico.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then don’t expect me to save your deceitful hide. Whatever you’re mixed up in, then I wish you get what’s coming to you. The way you live will be the way you’ll die.”

Alex spun around, glaring at her. A wildness she’d never seen before distorted his classical features. “I’ll remind you of your words moments before I kill your husband.” She gasped. “I’d hate to kill Mateo Arroyo, especially since he’ll become quite useful to me.”