Hot Mercy (Affairs of State Book 2) (43 page)

Nearly all of the bruises from the beatings had faded, Mercy was glad to see. But the surgeon’s repair of her mother’s broken nose had caused purple wings to spread across her cheekbones. She’d also need dental surgery to replace three broken front teeth.

Physically, she was on the mend. But there were hours and days from her captivity in Ukraine that Talia was unable to reconstruct.
Unable or unwilling?
The question pained Mercy. Her mother had always been a woman who faced the truth, no matter how harsh or cruel. Now she was hiding from it. Seeing her like this broke Mercy’s heart. But there seemed little to nothing she could do to help her.

“I’ve decided to fly down to Mexico City,” Mercy said now. “I know you’ll be well taken care of while I’m gone. And Mark will be back for the weekend, yes?” Talia nodded, eyeing her seriously. “I have to see Sebastian, Mom, and try to make him understand why I had to go back to St. Thomas. I can’t let him think that I don’t care.”

“He’s a beautiful and proud man,” Talia said. “I only had a chance to speak with him a few times before he left, but I do think he must love you, to have gone through so much for you. For us.”

“I expect so.” Mercy’s words sounded calm, even cool to her own ears. So deceptive. Her heart was tripping over itself.

Love.
Was it possible they still had a chance? Honest and utterly complete devotion to one person was such a rare treasure. At one time Mercy had believed she’d found that kind of love with Peter. But their marriage had been a pale shadow compared to the brilliance of her emotions and the sensual stirrings she felt when she was with Sebastian Hidalgo.

“He came to my room while you were gone,” Talia said, “to see that I was being cared for properly.”

“Did he?”

Talia flashed an impish smile. “I think he physically threatened one of the male night nurses for not answering my call button quickly enough.”

Mercy laughed. “He can be a terror when he wants to.”

Talia whispered, “The staff here think he’s some kind of South American drug lord.”

“They’re not the only ones.”

Her mother looked suddenly worried. “He isn’t—is he, dear?”

Never again would she assume no one was listening to her private conversations. Training with Red Sands had broken her of that false sense of security.

Mercy lowered her lips to her mother’s ear, so that only she might hear. “He’s a criminal’s worst nightmare.”

Talia grinned, shattered teeth giving her a wild look. Dental implants would bring back her familiar, dazzling smile, in time. “Good for him. When will you go? And how long will you be gone?”

“Tomorrow. I don’t know for how long.” Mercy sighed. “I may not have a choice. It wouldn’t be the first time Sebastian kicked me off his ranch.” Then she brightened. “But I’m taking a little insurance with me.”

                                          49

The Aeromexico jet landed on time. Its passengers disgorged into the brilliant Mexican sunshine. Mercy always imagined the light here as an artist’s blend of earthy ochre, white-hot cream, Aztec gold, and fiery Tenochtitlan orange. These were the hues she’d use to paint a landscape of this amazing place.

Her heart rocketed into her throat as memories of an earlier trip to Mexico City replayed in her mind. She’d come with Peter and a heart full of dreams for their future together. But that was before she truly understood her husband’s deceptive nature. He was still Cultural Liaison at the American Embassy in Mexico City, but she had no desire to see him. In fact, she would make a point of
not
seeing him while she was here.

The rental car she’d ordered was waiting for her and her companion. She drove out of the city and then north. The trip gave her time to think about what they had accomplished in Ukraine, and what they’d left unfinished.

Rescuing Talia had been her sole reason for going, but once there, and she’d seen the ongoing struggle of good men like Stefan against Russian criminals, she had wanted to do more. She'd learned by way of Geddes, who seemed to have ears and eyes just about everywhere, that Sebastian had made good on his promise and sent three new vehicles to the militia. Now that the press had gotten hold of the story of the radioactive Chernobyl artifacts and blasted the shocking news worldwide, potential buyers might be more wary of the sources of their purchases, and the consequences of buying black-market goods. Even more hopeful, she’d read a New York Times article that quoted the intention of the Secretary General of the United Nations to bring additional sanctions against Russia for its ongoing interference in Ukraine.

A few hours later, Mercy steered through the massive wrought-iron gates and into the dusty working yard of the hacienda. Her passenger threw open the car door and bounded toward the main house. Sebastian was standing on the shady veranda, probably alerted to an unidentified car by unseen guards stationed along the road. Mercy watched him, her pulse alternately stalling out and speeding up as his puzzled expression turned to joy at the sight of his daughter Maria.

“Niña! You look so grown up.” Just as quickly, his delight morphed into concern. “What are you doing here? Is anything wrong? Your classes at school—”

“I love them, Papa.” Maria laughed. “But we’re on term break now. And see who I’ve brought with me?”

Mercy eased out of the driver’s seat. After the air-conditioned interior of the sedan, the desert air scorched her lungs. Hotter still were Sebastian’s eyes as he watched her come around the car and walk toward him. His black hair gleamed in the sunlight. His wide stance and broad shoulders blocked the massive carved oak door behind him. As she’d pulled through the gate, she'd seen men working in the vast yard, moving in and out of stables, work sheds, bunk houses. As if by magic, they'd disappeared. No doubt in response to their boss’s stormy expression. No one wanted to be in the don’s line of fire when he broke into a rage.

“So you are still in one piece, I see,” he said.

She winced. “You sound disappointed.”

Sebastian looked down from the top step at his daughter, and a veil of exquisite tenderness passed over his face. “Why don’t you go saddle your pony, Maria. Hermanito and I will join you for a ride as soon as your driver leaves.”

Maria observed her father but then shot Mercy an apologetic look. They’d talked on the drive about the likelihood of his anger. “No, Papa. I have some things to do in my room.” Her voice was gentle, soothing. “You and Mercy need to talk.” But Mercy wasn't convinced a daughter’s tenderness was enough to assuage the man's anger.

He scowled at her as if she had just commanded him to negotiate with his worst enemy. When his gaze shifted back to Mercy, his eyes blazed. “And if I don’t want to talk to this woman who breaks her word and betrays the trust of—”

“I never promised I wouldn’t return to the Virgin Islands,” Mercy pointed out, moving cautiously up the steps toward him. Her throat felt parched, painful to speak through. Her hands trembled at her sides. She fisted them, willing stillness into bones and flesh.

Maria gave Mercy a good-luck finger wave then ducked behind her father, through the door and into the house.

Sebastian’s face reddened as Mercy took another step up to meet him. Fury bloomed in his eyes—blue morphing to midnight sky. “You led me to believe if your mother was made safe—”

“I had committed myself to a mission,” she said. “I'd let good people down. I couldn’t leave them stranded.” She looked up at him from the step beneath his and planted both hands on her hips. She hoped her aggressive stance would telegraph:
We will talk this through, whether you like it or not.

“You’re a painter, an art curator and gallery owner,” he said. “Chasing down terrorists isn’t your job.”
Is it?
his raised brow demanded.

“I am all of those things. And no, officially I’m not employed by the government. But—” How could she explain what she so very desperately wanted him to see? What she was only now just beginning to understand about herself. “But today’s world makes unusual demands on all of us, Sebastian. You know that better than anyone. I can’t turn my back on people who need me. I can’t ignore thugs who slaughter innocents.”

He gave her a look, equal measures of terror and rage. “I loved my father, but I lost him to ruthless criminals, a different kind of terrorist but no less deadly. I wasn’t able to protect him, but I can protect you, Mercy, if you’ll let me.”

“But, Sebastian, don’t you see? I don’t want to be prote—”

He spun on his boot heels and strode away from her, into his house.

She caught the door before it slammed in her face. “Sebastian! Talk to me.”

But by the time she’d rushed into the dim coolness of the foyer, he was already climbing the elegant rosewood stairway to the second floor, taking the steps by twos. She ran after him, her heart crashing in her chest. She couldn’t let him walk away from her now. She refused to let him dismiss her when she was trying to do something good.
Had
done some good.

He turned into the room she knew from earlier experience was his bedroom. She followed him inside. Here it was all dark wood and creamy stucco, age-blackened oak beams overhead. The potent scents of oiled leather, musk, and sandalwood coaxed up memories of him, of them, as painful as seductive.

“Sebastian, please hear me out!”

He ignored her and went to the aged, iron-hinged cabinet beside his bed. On it sat a photograph of her. One of the formal publicity portraits taken by her mother three years earlier for Mercy’s one-woman art show in New York City. Mercy hadn’t given it to him. She had no idea where he’d gotten it.

He pulled open a drawer and took from it a small, delicate box, its top and bottom fashioned from thin slices of polished brown-and-gold agate. Its sides were decorated with enameled flowers and gilding.

He thrust it at her. “Open it,” he commanded, his voice rough with emotion.

Mystified, she did, with trembling fingers.

Lying on a velvet cushion was a heavy gold ring, sized for a woman’s hand. Dazzling diamonds surrounded a single immense ruby the color of rich claret.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“Maria’s mother wanted a ring of her own. A new ring, of her own modern design; she was buried with it.” His gaze fixed on this other ring she now held, as if he were unwilling to meet her eyes. “This one is part of the Hidalgo legacy. The ring my mother, her mother before her wore, and my great grandmother brought with her when she came here from Spain. I had intended to pass it on to Maria when I died. I had no plans to marry again.” And now, at last, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, and the intensity in his eyes took her breath away. “Until you came into my life. Then I began to hope.”

Stunned, she stared at him, then at the ring, then him. She couldn’t seem to speak. Her mouth simply didn’t work.

He took the box back from her, latched the lid, replaced it in the chest. Sebastian kept his back to her as he slowly shut the drawer.

“What do you want me to say?” she choked out. What was the purpose of showing her the ring at all? Had he wanted to hurt her? Hurt her even more deeply than he already had by walking out of her life?

He had never actually said he wanted to marry her. No proposal, either formal or casual, now or at any time before this. But what else could this be except a marriage proposal that he’d suddenly aborted?

She stood there feeling empty. Numb. Bereft. She imagined the normal engagement routine—he would have knelt before her then lovingly slipped the ring over her finger. Instead, he’d taunted her:
This is what I would have given you if you had obeyed me, if you’d let me protect you. Now you can’t have it.

How cruel.

A part of her ached to give up all that stood in their way of being a couple. Fling aside her worldly concerns and do what he asked of her—just be his. Being with Sebastian sounded so right, so comfortable. Safe.

But then she thought,
I’ve already made a difference in the world. I can do more.

“Sebastian, look at me. You told me before that it was too dangerous for me to live here in Mexico with you.”

He gave a stiff nod but remained turned away from her, one wide hand splayed across the top of the chest of drawers.

“Then how would marriage, or any sort of long-term relationship, work for us? Living in different countries. My fearing for your life. You worrying about me thousands of miles away. Even if I promised to stay in Washington and away from clandestine—“

“We
dream
such things!” he shouted, rounding on her, eyes blazing, voice cracking with passion. He was a massive oak, struck and violently split by lightning. Splintering before her eyes. She was a willow, willing to bend but having reached her limits.

She gasped, wanting to soothe him but unable to speak.

“Don’t you understand? I dreamt of a future for us,” Sebastian’s voice went suddenly hollow. “You did this to me, Mercy.” He reached out with both hands, gripped her arms, and shook her with barely restrained ferocity. “You made me hope again, and feel and—” His words dropped away along with his hands, leaving burning patches on her arms. The anguish in his voice broke her heart. The pain in his eyes was unbearable. “And, yes, love again. I wanted you. Now I know that’s impossible.”