Killer Secrets (16 page)

had the satisfaction of her fear, but just for a moment.

"You won't kill us," she said quietly,
confidently. "You do not kill women, do you, Senor Fuentes? You

are not El Patrón. Only El Patrón understands this world.
You are but a braying little burro—"

A weapon exploded, tearing into her skull, splattering the
back of her head onto Eleanor and the wall

behind her as she was flung backward.

The weapon had no sooner discharged than Ian was ducking
and rolling, coming up, the gun braced in

his hand and centered on the chest of the man who stood in
the doorway.

Diego Fuentes. Ian's finger clenched, the need to tighten,
to fire, nearly overwhelming his control. He

could get away with it. He could kill the bastard and swear
it was an accident. His superiors wouldn't

question it, and he could still go after Sorrell. It would
be so easy.

Diego's black eyes met his, knowledge in the curve of his
lips as he lowered the gun. His pristine white

silk shirt contrasted with his swarthy skin, the stiffly
pressed black trousers and obscenely expensive

loafers untouched by the blood he had just spilled.

"They are not women, they are traitors. Traitors
die," he spat.

"So what does that make me, old man?" Ian
suddenly snarled, coming to his feet as fury coursed through

him. "I betrayed my country for you. What makes you
think I won't betray you as well?"

"Blood is stronger than country," Diego said.
"My blood in your veins. My heart pumping inside you, a

part of me forever bonded with you because you are my son.
Dispose of those whores and wipe them

from your mind. No one betrays what is mine, and by all
that is holy you are my son."

Eleanor was sobbing now, her body protected by his own as
he stood between her and Diego.

"We agreed this operation would be handled my way!"
Ian bit out, coldly furious. "You don't kill without

my permission."

"As though I would ever receive it," Diego spat
back. "You will throw her carcass into the streets and

that whore she slept with will take back to her diseased
owner my answer to his quest. 'Get fucked,

Sorrell.'"

Good God, have mercy. Ian wanted to put his fist in the
man's stupid mouth and shut him the hell up. Or

a bullet in his black heart and stop this charade for good.

"Get the fuck out of here," he snarled.
"Now."

"So you can bargain with her?" Diego sneered.
"You bargain with your enemies as though they were

business associates whose word you can trust. You are the
fool."

"And you're as dead as she is if you don't get the
fuck out of here!" Ian's voice lowered dangerously as

the need to silence the bastard raged inside him.
"I'll deal with you later."

Diego smiled mockingly. "But you will not kill me, and
still Liss is dead. My answer to the bastard that

would strike my son. Eleanor can give it to him
herself." Then he turned and strode from the room.

Ian turned to look at Eleanor. She had stopped sobbing and
now stared at Liss's cooling body in horror.

"Ernesto will have me killed," she whispered,
pulling her gaze to Ian. "I only helped Liss, as she asked

me to do. So we would have the money to leave Aruba and to
return home to Colombia. Enough money

to help feed our families . . ." Her voice trailed
away as she reached out a trembling hand to touch Liss's

slack face.

The scent of blood and death filled the room now, wiping
away the sweet scent of sex and fear.

"Deke, get her on a plane," Ian told him quietly.
"I want her safe." He wiped his hand over his face,

suddenly aching as he stared at the mess Diego had made of
Liss.

Ian had had no intention of hurting her. Frightening her,
yes, convincing her to give him information,

definitely. But God help him, he would never have hurt her.

"Should we have her interrogated?" Deke's voice
was just as quiet.

"On the plane." Ian nodded. "I want her
flying out of here to a safe house within the hour."

The Cessna waited on a private airfield outside Palm Beach,
just in case it was needed, the pilot on

twenty-four-hour call.

"Come on, Eleanor." Deke wrapped his arms around
her and helped her from the bed. "Let's get you

dressed. Get you out of here."

She stared at Ian, shell-shocked, desperate. "Don't
kill me, Ian, please." Tears fell down her cheeks as

her reddened lips trembled. "I am so sorry." She
held on to Deke's arms as though terrified Ian would

jerk her from the suddenly gentle embrace.

"I'm not going to kill you, Eleanor. Go with Deke. Let
him take care of you." Ian's gaze moved back to

Liss. "Have Liss buried. Quietly. Get this taken care
of." He turned and stared at Liss's blank expression.

"Son of a bitch, some days it doesn't pay me to wake
up in the morning."

"You'd have to sleep first, boss," Deke murmured
as he helped Eleanor dress.

"Shut the fuck up, Deke," Ian snarled.

He left the room, his gun still clasped in his hand, and
headed through the villa to the one place where he

knew he could find Diego at this time of the day. Nothing
turned that bastard off his food. The son of a

bitch could murder a woman and sit down to breakfast as
though he were royalty five minutes later. And

that was exactly where he was. At the breakfast table, a
cup of coffee and a plate of fruits and sweets in

front of him, his assistant Saul sitting across from him.

Before Ian realized his intentions, his hands were on the
older man's silk shirt, clenching the fabric in his

hands as he jerked Diego from his chair and threw him
against the wall.

Shocked, wide black eyes met Ian's, then narrowed in fury.
But no anger Diego could have been feeling

could possibly come close to the rage building in Ian's gut
now. The remembered sight of Liss, slumped

back, her brains splattered on the wall behind her,
sickening him.

"Ever. Ever. Fuck me over that way again, and I walk.
Do you understand me?" He was in Diego's face,

nose to nose, a killing rage pumping through him.

"She betrayed me," Diego snarled.

"You stupid fucking bastard, she had
information," Ian rasped, murderous fury burning in his gut.

"Information I needed. Do you understand me?" He
threw his father away from him, his fists clenching,

the need to do something, anything, raging through him.
Damn Diego. Liss had been a fucking child. An

easy-to-use, impressionable, filled-with-anger young woman
who didn't know shit about this world. And

Diego had just killed her. Without a second thought.
Without questions.

"Fuck it," he muttered. "I'm out of
here."

"You would leave Sorrell to destroy us all?"
Diego moved to place himself in front of Ian, his expression

knowing, cold. "What of all your justice and belief in
freedom," he sneered. "I move to defend you and

you whine over blood spilled. What will you do when Sorrell
achieves his objective to strike at your

precious country?"

Ice was forming in Ian's soul now. This man, this fucking
monster, was his father. A man who had just

killed a fucking nineteen-year-old girl as though she were
a diseased animal rather than a beautiful,

vibrant young woman.

And he couldn't walk away. No matter how much he wanted to,
no matter how badly he wanted away

from the blood and death, he couldn't walk away. Not yet.

Ian clenched his teeth. His fingers tightened on the grip
of the gun as a grimace contorted his features.

"Stay the fuck out of this, Diego. Stay out. Or I
walk."

He moved away from Diego, stalking out of the breakfast
room.

Deke moved into the foyer, his expression somber as he gave
Ian a short nod. Ian breathed in a heavy

breath. Eleanor was in safe hands and being escorted to the
plane by the same hands that would bury

Liss's body. The only other agent Ian had been able to get
into the Fuentes home would take care of her.

Stepping into the bright sunlight, Ian drew in a deep,
cleansing breath, and swung his gaze to Kira's villa.

God, he wished he had stayed in the bed with her. Wished he
were wrapped around her lithe, softly

scented body, holding her warmth close to him. And it was
the worst thing he could wish for. He was the

most dangerous thing she could have right now. And she was
the one thing he couldn't allow himself.

DIEGO BREATHED A SIGH OFrelief as the doors slammed behind
Ian, leaving him and Saul alone in

the breakfast room, the ramifications of his actions
slamming into his brain.

He turned to Saul, his fists clenching, his muscles
trembling, from the fear and fury inside his soul.

"A mistake," he whispered. "That was a
horrible mistake I made."

"You must think first, Diego." Saul's face was
pale as well. "You walk a very fine line with your son. Our

rules that we see as so simple are not so simple to
him."

Diego wiped his hand over his face and slumped in his chair
once more, the food before him suddenly

unappetizing.

"He would not have done it," he whispered.
"My son, he would not have eliminated that threat."

"And had we heeded his warnings about the servants,
then it would not have been necessary," Saul

reminded him gently.

"I will make it up to him." He pushed his fingers
through his hair, his chest aching, his heart heavy as he

remembered the pure, unadulterated hatred that had glowed
in his son's eyes. "How can I make this up

to him, Saul?"

"Follow his wishes." Saul was shaken as well.
"We will do as he says, yes, Diego?"

Diego stared back at him, agonized when a sad smile
suddenly shaped his lips.

"Do you know, Diego, who your boy reminds me of?"

He shook his head, uncertain about the flash of affection
in Saul's eyes. That old man cared for few

people.

"Your father," he said gently. "A young,
proud, hot-blooded Aquiles Fuentes. This is who he reminds me

of."

Diego blinked at his father's old friend and tilted his head
thoughtfully. Yes, he thought, a smile of

remembrance creasing his face. Like his father, Aquiles.
This was who Ian reminded him of as well. A

strong, proud man. A warrior, an innovator. That was his
son. Yes, perhaps Saul was right; for now at

least, they would follow Ian's directions.

Ten

SHE NEEDED HIM.

A week later Kira admitted to the real reason why she had
followed Ian to Aruba, why she had decided

to stick her admittedly curious nose into his business, and
it was why she was ignoring his piercing gaze

seven days later as she sat in one of the open lounge
sections of the Fuentes club, Coronado's.

The club was one of the most popular on the island, filled
with tourists and regulars, hard-driving music,

and undercurrents of the shadowy world that existed within
the center of the popular gathering spot. It

was a hotbed of illegal practices and shady deals and Kira
was sitting smack in the middle of Sorrell

symathizers posing as Fuentes contacts.

Being here had nothing to do with protecting the DHS
interests in keeping Diego Fuentes alive and

upholding their agreement to allow him to escape capture
and prosecution. She was here because of Ian.

Because of what he made her feel, made her hunger for.

She flicked a look beneath her lashes in Ian's direction.
She could feel his fury even across the distance

of the booths separating them.

Of course, the fact that she was sitting with two of his
own suppliers couldn't be comfortable for him. Or

the fact that for the last few days, several of Sorrell's
contacts had made a point to inform her that they