Sandra's Classics - The Bad Boys of Romance - Boxed Set (51 page)

"Mr. Rogan has been hired to get me to the airport," she said softly. "Is that right?"

Her father pursed his lips. "Something like that," he said.

Rogan laughed again, and the sound made her blood run cold.

"Is there more to it? Has he been hired to escort me all the way to Miami? Is that it, Papa? Well, it doesn't matter. I don't care if he sits on me; I'm not getting on that plane and I'm not..." She broke off in surprise as Rogan moved out of the doorway. He was beside her before she could take a breath, his hand closing tightly around her wrist. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Rogan? Let go of me. Papa, tell this man to..."

"I thought you said she was a sweet-tempered girl with a docile disposition, Esteban." Rogan's fingers bit into the tender flesh inside her wrist. "Go on, tell her."

"Senor Rogan, please, if you would just give us another minute..."

"You've taken too damn much time as it is," Rogan growled. As if to underscore what he'd said, there was the thunderclap and an explosion flashed brightly outside the window. "Tell her, or I will."

The fear building within Elena was making it almost impossible for her to breathe. She turned to her father and put her hand lightly on his arm.

"Tell me what?" she whispered. "Please, what is he talking about?"

Her father sighed. "There is a plane scheduled to leave here soon,
querida.
I have been assured it will do so.
I..."

The man who had greeted them minutes earlier put his head into the corridor again.

"Jeez, are you still talking? Dammit man, if you're not ready to go with this in five minutes, I'm leaving. Do you understand?"

Eduardo Esteban nodded and then he turned towards his daughter. "Listen to me, Elena," he said, and there was a rough urgency in his voice. "There is a place for you on that plane."

"Not without you!"

For the first time in her life, Elena heard her father curse. He grasped her shoulders and shook her.

"Do not interrupt me again, Elena. You will be on that plane. Do you understand? I will not tolerate any insolence."

Elena's eyes filled with tears. "But what will happen to you
?"

Esteban smiled tenderly. "I shall be fine,
querida,
especially if I know you are safe."

Rogan took a step towards them. "Will you please cut the crap and get to it, Esteban? That plane's not going to wait for us, you know."

"Elena,
querida,
listen to me. It is possible—it is probable—that those who carry San Felipian passports will not be permitted to leave the country. Do you see? If you had an American passport, as you should have, you would be able to board the plane."

Elena shook her head. "But I don't have one. And I can't believe that the Embassy would be willing to verify my right to one now."

Her father nodded in agreement. "Exactly. But if the situation were different—if, for example, you were
married
to an American citizen..."

"But I'm not," Elena said impatiently.

Esteban stroked the hair back from her forehead. "But if you were," he said softly, "no one could stop you from boarding that plane."

"Papa, what..."

Rogan's hand closed over her wrist again. "Which brings us to why you're here." Elena looked at him blankly and he laughed. "A quick temper and a short memory. You're no bargain, are you,
senorita?"

"Senor Rogan, there is no need to be unkind. My daughter..."

Rogan nodded. "OK," he growled, looking into Elena's eyes, "I'll refresh your memory. A few minutes ago, you wanted to know why you were here. Well, it's time someone told you."

She waited for him to say something else, but suddenly Blake Rogan looked uncomfortable. A fist seemed to clench deep inside her.

“Papa," she said softly, her eyes still locked with Rogan's, "what is he talking about?"

Esteban let out his breath. "
Querida,
forgive me." Her father took her hand and placed it in Rogan's. "You are to be married to this man. When you leave here tonight, it will be as Mrs. Blake Rogan."

Elena snatched her hand from Rogan's and stared at her father in disbelief.

"What did you say?"

Elena," he said softly, "Mr. Rogan and I have reached an agreement."

Had everyone gone crazy? It was the middle of the night, the country was in the midst of an armed insurrection, and her father was making a joke. But his face told her it was no joke. His expression was grim.

"You can just forget all about your agreement, Papa. It's impossible."

"Listen to me, child. Mr. Rogan is going to marry you. Then you will be able to leave Santa Rosa in safety. You..."

Her father was still talking, but she'd stopped listening. She looked at Blake Rogan. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, watching her in stony silence. An agreement, she thought, as shock gave way to disbelief, disbelief to anger, and suddenly the anger became rage.

"You want me to...to marry this man?" she demanded, cutting into her father's explanation. "You want me to marry this... this..."

Rogan made a sound that was not quite a laugh. "Believe me, lady, words fail me, too."

Her green eyes raked him with cold dismissal before she turned her back to him.

"Is that what you want, Papa?"

Esteban sighed. "
Querida,
you must understand. It is the only way to ensure your safe departure."

Elena tossed her head and her dark hair swung away from her face. "I'd rather die," she said clearly.

This time, Rogan laughed aloud. "At least we agree on something," he said, his teeth bared in a feral grin. "I'm as thrilled with the idea as you are."

Elena ignored him. "None of this makes sense, Papa. I won't leave you."

"You will do as I tell you,” her father said sharply.

"But if you want me to take that flight, why..."

Rogan cursed softly. "Come on, Esteban. It's now or never. Tell the princess the details. Time's running out. You do it, or I will."

Her father's face darkened. "No," he said quickly, "no, I'll talk to my daughter."

The American grinned. "Yeah, I thought you'd prefer it that way." He put his hand in the small of Elena's back and she pulled away from him.

"Don't you touch me," she said softly. "Not ever."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't make threats, Princess. Not unless you're prepared to back them up."

"And do
not,
do not
call me that!"

His hand landed in the small of her back again and she stumbled forward.

"Go on, Esteban. Explain the facts of life to her. And make it snappy. In ten minutes, I leave with or without her."

Esteban's eyes flashed darkly. "We have made a deal, Rogan."

Rogan's eyes narrowed. "Right—and it's one I could hardly say no to, could I? OK, Esteban. Ten minutes—and if she's not convinced by then, I'll put a piece of tape across her mouth and you can wag her head up and down and make her vows for her."

Elena's mouth dropped open. "How can you let him talk to you that way
?”

Her father grasped her arm and hurried her to the end of the corridor. "Listen to me, Elena. Rogan and I have made a deal. He..."

"Have you lost your mind?" she sputtered. "The man's an animal! He..."

She gasped as her father grasped her shoulders and shook her. "He's the only way I can be sure of getting you away from here, Elena. For God's sake, think! You carry a San
Felipian passport. What do you think would happen if they saw the name of Elena Esteban on a passport? Elena Esteban, the daughter of Eduardo Esteban, a government official."

Elena paled. "A trusted government official, Papa. All the parties agreed..."

Her father smiled gently. "Which means I am a valuable piece in the game that will be played in San Felipe over the next months. And a safe one—but not if you remain,
querida.
Not if someone should see my daughter as a means by which I might be controlled." His hands grasped her shoulders and he stared into her eyes. "Do you understand, Elena? There would be no way to guarantee your safety—or mine."

"Papa..."

"Do you understand?" he demanded, his hands grasping her shoulders.

Elena nodded reluctantly. "Yes," she whispered, "I guess I do. But..."

Rogan's harsh voice echoed down the corridor. "Speed-it up, Esteban. You're running out of time."

"The marriage is only a legal maneuver, child. It will give you the name and the papers to get on that plane. When you reach Miami, you and Rogan will go your separate ways. My lawyers will dissolve the marriage as soon as it is legally possible."

"And...and Rogan agreed to this?" Her father said nothing and Elena moved closer to him. "I want an answer," she said stubbornly. "Why would he go along with this insanity? It can't be out of the goodness of his heart. I know what sort of man he is—he'd have to be blackmailed or bullied into agreeing to something like this."

"Elena, time grows short."

"Or he'd have to be bought..."

The man from the Embassy stepped into the hallway again. "Esteban—it's now or never. I agreed to help you, not to put my neck in a noose."

"I did what had to be done, Elena."

"You mean you bought him," she said flatly. "What did it cost, Papa?"

Her father's eyes darkened. "A great deal," he said softly, and a strange expression slid across his face. But then he shook his head and smiled at her. "And it was worth it."

Elena's eyes glittered with unshed tears. "Papa," she whispered, "please—don't ask me to do this."

"It is for the best, Elena."

There was nothing left to say, and she hung her head in silent acquiescence. After that, everything seemed to happen all at once. Her father hurried her into the lighted office, and then Rogan was standing beside her and the man from the Embassy was mumbling words that she had sometimes dreamed of hearing, but not like this, not while she stood in a room filled with metal filing cabinets and typewriters, with the sound of gunfire in the streets and a stranger at her side.

The Embassy man paused and stared at Blake Rogan.

"Come on, man," he muttered. "Say it."

Rogan cleared his throat. "I do," he mumbled, staring straight ahead of him.

And then it was her turn. But she couldn't. She couldn't...

"Speak the words, Elena," her father whispered, but her tongue felt as if it were fastened to the roof of her mouth.

"Say it," Rogan muttered. His hand sought hers and his fingers squeezed her wrist until she drew in her breath. "Come on," he said impatiently, "finish it."

"I do," she gasped, and it was all over. Blake Rogan was her husband.

An automatic smile appeared on the Embassy official's face. "Well," he said, extending his hand towards Rogan, "
congrat..." Their eyes met and the official's face reddened. "OK," he said, clearing his throat. "That's that. I've—er—I've got some papers for you here, Mrs... uh,
senorita.
I—er—I wish you well..."

Elena nodded stiffly. "Thank you."

The man gave her a quick smile. "No problem. And now I think we'd all better get the hell out of here."

A series of distant explosions rattled the windows, underscoring his words.

Rogan took Elena's arm. "OK," he snapped, "let's move it."

Elena turned towards her father, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Papa..."

But Rogan was already moving her forward, his arm around her waist, the fingers splaying across her hip.

"Come on, lady. Give Daddy a kiss and let's go."

"Damn you, Rogan," she cried, "don't you tell me what to do! I'm not taking orders from..."

The breath caught in her throat as he hauled her towards him. "You'll take orders and like it, Princess. I'm in charge here—and don't you forget it for a minute. Until that plane lands in Miami, you'll do exactly as you're told."

Elena's eyes glittered with tears of rage. "My father won't let you treat me like this."

A quick, feral grin lit Rogan's face. "Won't he?"

Elena looked at her father and his mouth twisted. "She is my daughter, Rogan," he said softly. "Remember that."

Another explosion sounded outside, closer than the last, and this time the floor trembled under their feet.

"Let's go, people."

Esteban put his arms around Elena.
"Vaya con Dios, querida,"
he whispered, kissing her on the cheek. "Go with God."

She wanted to tell him that the man he was sending her with was further from God than anyone she'd ever met in her life, but Rogan's hand was around her wrist and he was tugging her out of the door after him. Her feet almost flew out from under her as they rounded a corner into a dimly lit corridor.

"Pay attention to what you're doing," he snapped.

"My father," she whispered, and then her throat closed with emotion. It was just as well, she thought as Rogan pushed open a fire door. He'd never be able to understand what she was feeling. A man like that probably felt no human emotions.

Ahead of them, a flight of stairs plunged downwards.

"Come on, come on. Move it."

He tugged at her hand as they clattered down the steps, her feet flying faster than she thought possible. Rogan's fingers were a steel clamp around her wrist; she could feel her hand going numb beneath their pressure. She'd been right about him from the beginning. He was an adventurer, all right, and never mind the expensive suit and the fancy cologne. He was worse than an adventurer—he was a man who would do anything if the price were right, a man who would even sell his name.

The lights in the stairwell flickered and died as they reached the bottom step. Elena stumbled in the sudden darkness and Rogan's arm slid around her.

"Easy," he said softly, holding her in the curve of his arm. He moved ahead slowly. "OK," he whispered, "let's go. There's an exit door at the end of the corridor. Can you see it?"

Elena nodded. "Yes."

Carefully, they made their way to the door.

"We'll leave from the rear of the building. There's a stretch of grass and then a stone wall. When we get outside, I want you to run like hell for that wall and get over it, fast. Understand?"

She nodded again. "Yes."

"Don't stop for anything. Never mind what you see or hear. Just get over that wall."

Her skin prickled with uneasiness and she turned towards him, sensing his nearness in the darkness.

"What about you?" she whispered. "Won't you be with me?"

"I'll be right beside you, Princess," he said, and she heard the laughter in his voice. "You don't think I'd get too far from my bride on our wedding night, do you?"

Anger and humiliation coursed through her as he pushed past her and opened the door.

"God, how I hate you!"

She gasped as he slapped her lightly on the bottom. "Save the tender words for later," he murmured. "Now, go on. Run!"

He gave her a quick shove and suddenly she was outside the building, running across the grounds in the darkness. The wall was ahead of her, just as he'd said it would be, a stretch of blackness against the charcoal sky. She could hear the sound of their footfalls, but everything else was silent, the compound—at least, what she could see of it—was deserted.

The wall loomed ahead, higher and broader than it had seemed from a distance.

Elena's footsteps slowed.

"Keep going," Rogan whispered.

"Isn't there a gate?" she panted. "I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he said, grasping her hand in his. "You have to."

"I can't. I..."

Rogan caught her around the hips and lifted her up to the wall. "Go on, grab hold. That's it," he said as her fingers scrambled for purchase on the rough stone surface, "that's the way. Hurry!"

She dug her fingers in as he shoved her unceremoniously from below until finally she was perched on top of the wall. A grunt and some scrambling, and Rogan was beside her. He dropped quickly to the ground on the other side and held his arms up to her.

"Jump." Elena hesitated and he shifted impatiently. "I won't drop you, for God's sake."

No, she thought, looking down at him, he wouldn't. And it wasn't really much of a jump. Then what was holding her back? She looked at him again, at his outstretched arms waiting to enclose her, and then she took a deep breath and let herself go.

Rogan caught her to him and set her down.

"OK. My car's parked just over there. Do you see it?"

"Yes, I... Wait a minute," she said quickly.

"What's the matter now?"

"I have a suitcase—I left it in my father's car."

His arm encircled her. "You don't need it."

"But..."

"Listen, Princess, if you follow orders and behave yourself, you'll be in Miami in a couple of hours. You can buy yourself new make-up and clothes when you get there, OK?"