Hot Mercy (Affairs of State Book 2) (13 page)

“Separate flights. You’re going US Air. Tickets are in the file I gave you. I’m traveling United, a few hours behind you, barring the possibility of delays or cancellations.”

Mercy thought about all of the times she’d flown to exciting places with her mother. How she wished this was one of them.

Hope
, she thought.
I have to hold onto that no matter how dark things may look.
What was the line from that T.S. Eliot poem?

             
Fading, fading; strength beyond hope

              and despair

              Climbing the third stair.

Was this mission, her “third stair?” She prayed for strength even as her faith in the future faded to a fragile remnant of all she’d once believed might be possible.

Please, God,
Mercy prayed silently,
grant Mom hope, too
. 

                                          12

Mercy stared at the seventh number recorded on her home phone’s caller ID—definitely an unfamiliar one. She’d already played back just enough of earlier messages to know who’d left each of them. Two from Mark in New York; she’d asked Margaret Storey to get word to him that she was safe but unable to speak with him. She didn’t want to have to be the one to lie to the poor man, so best not to talk at all. Two others were robo-calls—the Purple Heart on a quest for donations and Comcast begging her to switch to their new, upgraded (translation: expensive) internet service. Then followed two hang-ups—but not from the usual 800 numbers of tele-solicitors—which gave her a creepy feeling. Her Russian killer-friend looking for her?

It was the seventh caller’s voice that set her heart to hopscotching around in her chest. She’d know it anywhere.
Sebastian!

“I’m here,
querida
. I must see you.” He was in the city?

Her knees went soggy. She grinned into the mirror, did a little happy dance. He’d come to see her. He wanted her. And, Lord help her, she wanted him.

But her directives stated she was supposed to talk to no one about where she was going or why. Margaret hadn’t exactly said that she couldn’t see Sebastian, but Mercy supposed that was because the agent assumed he was in Mexico and would remain there until Mercy had flown to the VI.

She stared down at the phone and weighed the risks, heartbeats catapulting little thrills through her body. Her fingers itched to pick up the phone.

If she called him back would she be doing something truly stupid? Red Sands expected her to walk out of Sebastian’s life without a word of explanation, and stay gone for as long as they needed her. She had been prepared to do just that, as unfair as it seemed. For her mother’s sake, she was willing to risk the fragile relationship she and Sebastian had been building, based on long-distance conversations and a few stolen moments in each other’s arms. She could only hope he’d understand when she explained it all to him later.

But what if Sebastian didn’t understand? What if he interpreted her sudden disappearance as disinterest and he gave up on her?

Oh, hell!
She hit ‘Return Call’ and listened to a phone, somewhere, jangle metallically.

A voice answered on the second ring. “
Si
?”

Her throat tightened. A sensual tug down low in her body made her close her eyes, hold her breath and then struggle for words. “Sebastian, it’s—“

“I know who it is,
mi amor
. I’ve been trying to reach you for over a week. I’m at the Hay-Adams.” His voice sounded rougher than normal. Angry? “What is going on? Where are you?”

She did a mental Crash & Burn. “A lot has happened that I’m not free to discuss.” Her voice sounded defensive, almost hostile to her own ears, not at all what she’d been going for.

“I heard about the carjacking,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She swallowed. “I’m sorry. It’s complicated.”

She could hear him breathing, imagined his fiery Latin temper directed into his phone. Melting it with the heat of his glare. Then, “If you don’t wish to see me, Mercy, just say so.”

“Oh, God, no it’s not that at all!” She choked on the absurdity of it. “I do want to see you and be with you. But I have only one day then I have to go away for a while, and I can’t explain why. Please trust me, it’s important.”

When he spoke again, his voice was gentler. “
De acuerdo
. Of course I trust you.” After a slight hesitation, he added, “Then you haven’t gone back to your husband.”

She was shocked he’d even think that. “Of course not!”

“So it has to do with your mother.”

“I can’t say. I honestly can’t.”

An image of his strong, angular face came to her. Bright blue eyes so at odds with his Latino-Aztec features. The way they darkened to a mesmerizing midnight azure when he was aroused.

“Please, don’t do anything foolish,” he said. “I can’t lose you.”

She spoke softly, wanting him to understand. “Any risk is worth it, if it helps me find my mother. Sebastian, please understand. Talia’s the only family I have.” She tried to breathe normally but her chest felt too tight. “You would do no less for your daughter, for Maria.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Then I take it we can’t see each other until you finish what you’ve begun?”

She closed her eyes, in agony. She knew what Red Sands
wanted
her to do. But hadn’t Margaret told her to tie up loose ends?

“What’s your room number?” she said.

The vintage elevator climbed far too slowly for Mercy. Alone in the ornate car, she paced from one paneled wall to the other while, with a mechanical sigh, it took its own good time gracefully lifting her to the Admiralty Suite on the 8th floor of the grand old Pennsylvania Avenue hotel. The rooms in the suite, she knew from having been there before, spanned one entire side of the building. The Hay-Adams was where royalty, traveling dignitaries, presidents and dictators bedded down in, arguably, the most powerful city in the world. Their governments coughed up $2,500 per night for their comfort and security. Sebastian was neither royal nor distinguished in the usual sense of the word. The world viewed him as a criminal, although Mercy knew different.

She grimaced at a bitter-sweet memory. Of course, she’d nearly killed the man before she discovered they were, more or less, on the same side.

As to being able to afford the suite, she was sure Sebastian had paid out-of-pocket, probably thinking nothing of the expense. As one of the wealthiest cattle ranchers in Central America, he could well afford the luxury.

The elevator stopped. She bolted between the opening doors. The private corridor gleamed—all marble and gilding, looking as though it had been lifted out of the Italian Renaissance. Her heart hammered as she turned toward an already open door. A low hum of sexual anticipation resonated through her body. And then
he
stepped through a doorway.

Gleaming black hair—always a little too long but perfect for running her fingers through. Skin a molten tan. Those mysterious obsidian-blue eyes afire at the sight of her. No man had ever looked better to Mercy.

Wordlessly, she drove herself into his shirtfront, wrapping her arms around his crisp, white shirt, feeling the flesh and muscle and warmth beneath. It struck her as ironic that they’d only ever made love twice before now. Too much had stood in their way when they first met—her marriage, his honor, their individual missions. Now, images from those explosive moments of passion rushed back at her. It was easy to feel they were just picking up where they’d left off months earlier.

His mouth closed over hers. She felt breathless, dizzy and appallingly happy. His wide, strong hands reacquainted themselves with her body through her clothing. She brought her palms up between their bodies, loving the crisp feel of chest hair through the smooth silk shirt as they kissed. Their kisses deepened. The world faded away.

At last, he moved her back from him to look down into her misty eyes. “I had begun to think you might not want this for us,” he whispered huskily. His eyes glittered with dark emotion—something between lust and pain.

“I
do
want this, so very much. It’s just that life is—” she shrugged, reaching for the word “—thorny.” He frowned, not understanding. “You know, like a cactus. Difficult to get a grasp on.”

He smiled and brushed a rough thumb across her cheek, traced one eyebrow, combed fingers from her temple up and through her windblown hair. Each touch endearing, gentle yet seductive. She trembled within his embrace.

“I suppose it is,” he murmured, and then took her hand in his. “Come, we’ll talk about this life of yours, later.” He took her hand and walked her through the open door, into the suite.

Mercy swallowed, aware of the pulsing of her body, no doubt in her mind as to why they must delay all discussion. Her body ached with need. She hoped his did too.

The room they entered—she supposed the largest bedroom of the suite—was immense. She instinctively absorbed details around her with a rapid sweep of her eyes. Her wariness a result of her recent training in clandestine ops?

Soaring windows overlooked the north lawn of the White House. Elegant cream walls with gilded trim blended with period furnishings. A canopied bed resided at one end. Wet bar and intimate lounging space at the other. Every nuance of the room was designed to lavishly accommodate a leader of state.

Sebastian turned her to face him, his expression fierce, the lines around his eyes and mouth taut with emotion. “If you have any doubts, Mercy.”

She shook her head and mouthed,
No
.

He splayed strong fingers—the same she recalled stroking his horse’s sleek neck—on either side of her face. Framing her features, thumbs beneath her jaw, calloused fingertips to her temples. Her right cheekbone still felt tender from its brush with canal stone, but Mercy didn’t flinch. Gently but firmly, he tilted her head up to kiss her on the lips. She opened her mouth, tasted him. Savored him. His breath hinted of musk, the smoky flavor of fine bourbon, and an essence that was purely Sebastian. 

She shivered with delight and desire. And fear. After all, she was taking an immense risk by ignoring Red Sands’ directives, even if she never said a word to Sebastian about her mission. To the rest of the world, Sebastian Hidalgo was a ruthless drug lord. Only three people knew of the dangerous double life he led—the Mexican president, Sebastian’s daughter Maria, and Mercy. If Red Sands discovered she and Sebastian were lovers, she had no doubt that Geddes would dismiss her. Then the chances of rescuing her mother from whatever hellhole she’d fallen into might be lost forever.

Leave now!
a voice warned.

But she couldn’t. Not now that Sebastian held her in his arms. Not now that she felt the heat of his body pressed against hers. She’d waited so long for this moment. Even here, thousands of miles from his beautiful Rancho Hidalgo, she caught the familiar scents of sun-warmed saddle leather and red clay in the pores of his skin.

Her hands worked of their own volition. Undoing the ornate silver belt buckle that rode low over his flat belly, letting the weight of it part the waistband of his black pants as she unzipped them. She thrust her hand boldly beneath the fabric. Felt lightheaded at the immensity of his arousal, hard and hot and wide and wonderful. She wrapped her fingers around him.

From low in Sebastian’s throat emerged an urgent, almost bestial growl. He ripped off his shirt. Soon, every garment he’d worn lay on the mossy-soft carpeting at their feet. He stood perfectly, gloriously naked before her. She felt dizzy and weak-kneed at the sight of him.

He touched her face, her throat, unbuttoned her blouse to expose her breasts. She had intentionally worn no bra. Backing her up against the nearest wall, he braced her between his hot body and the cool plaster. She wrapped legs around his waist. She looked down with a thrill bordering on insanity to see him draw a taut nipple between his teeth and suck hard. She gasped at the exquisite torture of his mouth, caressing first one then her other breast. Running his tongue along the valley between them, he paved a path of fire along her throat to her mouth.

Mercy gasped for air. He cut off her breath with a plunging kiss. Her insides turned liquid, flowed, surged with energy and hunger and a need to claw her way up and down his body. “I want y—“

“You have me.”

“Inside me!”

He tore off and threw aside her flowered skirt, the one that snapped all the way down the front. Convenient for quick, casual dressing in the morning; she hadn’t thought of its other advantages. Predicting they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off of each other, she hadn’t bothered wearing underwear. Now, with her legs still encircling his waist, there was nothing at all between her wildly humming flesh and him. She wiggled her bottom. Oh my!

Sebastian’s eyes sparked wicked blue lightning. He lifted and carried her across what seemed like miles of crimson carpeting to the bed. Neither of them spoke. Words were insufficient for expressing what she felt. He laid her down, stretched out over her, bracing his body on muscular arms above her.