No Easy Target

  “Depending on how long it takes you to persuade Carlos and his group to come back with you. And you will call me while you’re on the road and let me know your progress,” she said curtly. “I’ll take care of Patrick. I’ll do everything right. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

  “I know that.” He parked in front of the monastery and sat there staring ahead. “I was an ass. I’m sorry.”

  “Yes, you were,” Margaret said flatly. “I can’t be anything but what I am. I don’t ask you to be anything else. I like who you are most of the time. And when I don’t, I accept it.” She opened the van door and jumped out of the vehicle. “And I don’t like you going off by yourself. I want to be there for you. But I’m accepting it.” She looked back over her shoulder. “What I won’t accept is your getting yourself hurt or killed. So don’t do it, Lassiter.”

  She strode away from him into the courtyard before he could answer.

  A few minutes later, she was walking down the corridor toward Patrick’s room. She knew she probably shouldn’t have let her emotions get the better of her. He had apologized and she could have accepted it graciously.

  No, she couldn’t. She was too emotionally involved with Lassiter, and everything he did or said had an effect on her. So she was not going to let him think he could hurt her and walk away. She’d be as open and honest as she always was and he could take her or leave her.

  “So did Lassiter meet with your approval?” Cambry asked as Margaret strode into Patrick’s room. “You were gone long enough.”

  She looked at him, startled. “What?”

  “The cave. Will it be okay for Patrick?”

  At his first words, she’d had an immediate vision of Lassiter leaning naked above her. “Oh, the cave.” She nodded quickly. “Yes. It’s fine. And we weren’t gone all that long. Only a couple hours.”

  “It seemed longer.”

  It hadn’t seemed long to Margaret. It had been a wild period of complete erotic pleasure. She could still feel the sensation of Lassiter moving in her body. Crazy.

  And addictive.

  She wanted him back again.

  Lassiter had been right: Sex had never been that important to her. It had taken a long time to heal from that rape she’d undergone when she was twelve. She’d been lucky that she’d still been living in the woods and could see all aspects of sex in nature around her. Gradually, she had realized that this was just another wound that would heal if she didn’t hold it close, but released the pain and not let it poison her. After that she had accepted the pleasure of sex as she did everything around her that was full of joy. But she’d had no trouble walking away, and she would never have risked initiating it if it might have proved troublesome or a danger.

  Yet she’d had trouble walking away today in circumstances that were definitely troublesome. Lassiter. It had been because it was Lassiter. And the knowledge that he was what made it different was an additional danger to her.

  “Margaret?” Cambry was gazing at her, puzzled. “Problems? It’s going to be okay. Everything is in high gear. I guess Lassiter told you that he was heading into the rain forest to try to recruit the Estefan group to help out? Mandell stopped by and told me what was happening and that he’d be sticking close.”

  “Yes, he told me.” She glanced at Patrick. “I told him we’d take care of everything here.” She moved over to the bed and stood looking down at Patrick. He did look better. She only prayed he’d stay that way.

  He’s not going away. I can keep him here.

  She glanced down at Juno on the floor beside the bed. I know you can. But it may be hard for a while.

  He’s not like her. She couldn’t stay with me. But I can keep him.

  I’m sure she’ll be happy if you do.

  I know. Juno laid her head down on her paws again. So he will not go away.

  Margaret reached out and gently touched Patrick’s hand. “Did you hear that?” she whispered. “Juno’s trying to tell us something. Now you pay attention to her.”

  “You’re … Margaret.” Patrick hadn’t opened his eyes and his voice was weak. “Don’t … understand.”

  “You will.” Her hand tightened on his. “You’ve got all kinds of friends in your corner. All you have to do is hang on and let us do the hard work. I’ll be here for you, if it matters.”

  “It … matters.” His lids slowly lifted. “Lassiter? Did he get them out of the detention camp? He has to do it. Right away. It … can’t wait.”

  “Lassiter knows that’s what you want. He’s working on it.”

  “It can’t … wait. Nicos is—crazy. Don’t want my freedom—to be reason for—”

  “Shh.” He was becoming agitated and his breathing was beginning to be labored. “They’ll be safe. Soon. Very soon. First on the list. I’ll see to it.” She met and held his gaze. “I promise you. I keep my promises, Patrick.”

  He held her gaze for an instant longer and then his lids fluttered closed. “Then … do … it.”

  He was asleep again.

  She drew a deep breath and stepped away from the bed.

  Cambry gave a low whistle. “I’d say that Lassiter made the right choice to get moving on getting those prisoners out right away.”

  She nodded. “Patrick’s really upset about it. In his present condition, he can’t afford that.”

  “Well, he seemed to believe you when you made that promise.”

  “Because I was telling the truth. I’ll do whatever I can to get them out.” She made a face. “With or without Carlos Estefan.” She turned toward the door. “But right now I’m going back to that closet they call a bedroom to wash up and change clothes. Then I want to talk to the doctor. Lassiter said he said noon tomorrow, but Patrick’s getting better all the time. Maybe he’ll let him go sooner. I’ll see you later, Cambry.”

  He glanced at Juno. “Oh, we’ll be here. I’m having trouble getting my buddy here to take bathroom breaks.”

  Because Juno knows that Patrick needs her in a very special way, Margaret thought as she started down the hall. It was one of the beautiful things about life that love could sense and furnish what was needed. Maybe that was why she had heard Juno calling her that night when there was no way she should have been able to do it. Perhaps there was a purpose that had brought her to Patrick at this time when the need was so very crucial.

  “Margaret?”

  She stopped as she saw Mandell coming down the hall toward her. “I just came from Patrick. He’s looking much better, but he went back to sleep, if you’re here to check on him.”

  He shook his head. “I looked in on him earlier. I wanted to see you. I just saw Lassiter off in that rackety truck that belongs to the monastery, and he bent my ear telling me all the precautions I should take with you while he was gone.” His lips twisted. “I came to make sure we’re on the same page. You keep your phone with you at all times. You let me know if you’re going to be anywhere but in your room or with Patrick.”

  “Where else would I be? I promised that I’d take care of Patrick.”

  “I’m just making certain that everything’s clear. I’m new at this bodyguard crap.”

  “Bodyguard?” She shook her head. “You’re responsible for everything going on here. I should be the least of your worries.”

  “That’s not the impression I got from Lassiter. So keep me informed twenty-four/seven or I’ll have to bunk in your room.” He grinned. “And I guarantee that the good monks won’t like that one bit, since they look askance at me anyway. I have to keep on their good side as much as I can.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like it, but I’ll do it. I’m not used to this bodyguard crap, either.” She looked down at the automatic pistol in the holster at his belt. “But the monks might be better disposed toward you if you didn’t wear that inside the monastery.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t buy approval by being something I’m not. You’re here; Patrick’s here. I’m not going to show up with a prayer book.??
? He turned and moved back toward the front entrance. “If you hear from Lassiter before I do, let me know.”

  “I will. Though don’t count on it.”

  “Hmm, really? Then I’ll let you know. He said he’d try to contact me before he started back and give me the word if we’re going to have to go it alone at the detention camp.”

  “He didn’t seem to have any doubts about getting Carlos Estefan on his side,” she said drily. “He said it was only a matter of strengthening the force of the con.”

  “I hope he’s right. Sometimes those rebels shoot first and listen later,” he said over his shoulder as he went out the door.

  She felt a chill go through her at his words. She had been trying not to keep thinking about the danger Lassiter might be facing. She had told him that he shouldn’t go alone. She had told him that he was being too confident about confronting Carlos on his own turf. He hadn’t listened to her.

  And she could do nothing about it now and it made her feel helpless.

  But she wouldn’t be helpless if she kept busy and let her mind work on the problems she could solve.

  Bathe. Get a bite of supper. Then talk to the doctor.

  But, dammit, she had to let Lassiter be the one to plan how to stay alive and persuade Carlos Estefan to come and help them.

  9:40 P.M.

  Rain Forest

  Estefan’s camp was just ahead.

  It was time, Lassiter knew.

  Call Margaret now. He might not get a chance later.

  For more reasons than one.

  He punched in the number quickly. She answered after the first ring. Her voice was tense. “Where are you, Lassiter?”

  “Where I should be? In the middle of this damned rain forest. Hot, muggy, and definitely buggy. Though I don’t believe I’ve run across your dart frog yet.”

  “You’d know it if you had. That’s no answer. Have you made contact with Carlos Estefan?”

  “That’s next on the agenda. About five minutes, I’d judge. His camp is right ahead of me.”

  “Then why are you calling me? They have to have sentries all around that camp. Hell, they might even hear you. Get off the phone.”

  “You told me to check in. I’m checking in. How is Patrick?”

  “Better, but the doctor is sticking to his time line. Get off the phone.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Get off the damn phone.”

  “Just a little longer. Are you still angry with me?”

  “Yes. No. What difference does it make?”

  “At least you’re ambivalent about it. It’s complicated, isn’t it?”

  “Get off the phone. Why are you doing this?”

  “Because it’s best that the sentries bring me into camp and report to Carlos that I was talking on the phone. That way, they won’t shoot me right away, because Carlos will want to know who I was reporting to. It will be a conversation starter.”

  “Conversation starter? You’re crazy, Lassiter.”

  “Then you should forgive me because I’m not responsible for my actions.” He tilted his head, listening. “I’ll call you back later.” He disconnected and then waited.

  Close.

  Very close.

  He kept the phone to his ear.

  He just had to hope that whoever was behind him in those shrubs wasn’t trigger-happy.

  And then he heard the click of the hammer of a rifle.

  * * *

  A conversation starter?

  Margaret wanted to kill him. He was so confident that he could talk Estefan into doing what he wanted that he was making himself bait for the trap.

  She could envision all kinds of scenarios playing out that had nothing to do with conversation and everything to do with being lethal.

  And he had hung up too abruptly, which probably meant that the action was about to start. Now all she could do was sit here in her room and wait for him to call her back.

  Mandell. She had promised to call Mandell. Though there wasn’t much she could tell him. She pressed the number buttons quickly. “I heard from Lassiter. He’s reached the camp but hasn’t made contact with anyone yet,” she said jerkily. “He’s setting up a conversation. He said he’d call back later.”

  “You’re a bit upset,” Mandell said. “He knows what he’s doing, Margaret. It may not be the way you or I would handle it, but he’s an expert at what he does. Silver-tongued doesn’t describe him. He’ll get through to Carlos.”

  “Or he’ll get himself shot. You know him better than I do. I hope you’re right. If he calls me back, I’ll let you know.”

  “When he calls you back,” Mandell said quietly. “There’s nothing to panic about.”

  “No, why should I worry if he does something this idiotic?” She hung up and drew a deep breath. Mandell might not think that Lassiter would have problems, but she couldn’t be certain of anything except that there were threats all around him.

  She sat down on the bed. Nothing to do but wait.

  Call, damn you, Lassiter.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  10:50 P.M.

  Why hadn’t he called?

  Margaret’s nails bit into her palms.

  It had been too long.

  How long did his “conversations” have to last? Carlos might have been the exception to prove the rule that Lassiter could talk anyone into anything. He could have been shot or held—

  “Margaret Douglas?”

  Her gaze flew across the room. There had been no knock, but the door was opening.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man in khakis was smiling at her. “You are Margaret Douglas?”

  One of Mandell’s men? She stiffened as he entered the room. Intrusion. No, Mandell wouldn’t have tolerated that and he would have called her. She jumped to her feet and reached for her phone.

  “I don’t think so.” He was across the room in seconds. His hand knifed down on her forearm and the phone dropped from her hand. “Not after I’ve run this risk, Margaret. You’re my ticket out of here.”

  She whirled away from him and grabbed the pitcher on the washstand. She kicked upward between his legs with her foot as she swung the pitcher at his head.

  “Bitch.” He grunted in pain as he blocked the pitcher from a direct hit. Then he smashed the pitcher to the floor as he grabbed her throat. “Don’t fight and I might not break your neck.” His hand tightened. “Or then again, I might.”

  Dizziness.

  Intense pain.

  Everything was going black. Her legs buckled and she fell to her knees. He released her and she was vaguely aware that he was grabbing the pillowcase off the bed. Was he going to smother her?

  Then he was jerking her to her feet.

  She could feel the muzzle of a gun in her back as he pushed her toward the door.

  “Now be very good and you might have a chance of getting out of here alive.…”

  He had stopped at the door and was forming the pillowcase into a gag.

  “Who…”

  He didn’t answer.

  But she was dimly putting all this madness together through the haze of pain and vertigo.

  “Brukman,” she said hoarsely. “You have to be Brukman.…”

  12:35 A.M.

  Mandell’s cell phone was ringing by the time he reached the courtyard after checking the sentries.

  Lassiter.

  “I admit I’m glad to hear from you,” he said when he picked up. “I assured Margaret you knew what you were doing, but it took you long enough to get back to us. I was losing faith in you. What about Carlos? Are you bringing him back with you?”

  “No, but he’s breaking camp and will be there tomorrow morning,” he said curtly. “Where’s Margaret?”

  “In her room. I talked to her after you called her the last time. That’s when I was telling her what a silver-tongued devil you are. What did she say when you told her that you’d managed to—”

  “I didn’t tell her anything,?
?? Lassiter said sharply. “She’s not answering her phone. I called twice and she never picked up. Go check her room and see where the hell she is. I’ll call Cambry and see if she’s with him and Patrick.” He cut the connection.

  Shit. Mandell was halfway across the courtyard in seconds and was running down the hall toward Margaret’s room. It could be nothing. Maybe her phone had no charge. Maybe she was pissed off at Lassiter and had decided—

  He knocked on her door.

  No answer.

  He threw open the door.

  Shards of a broken pottery pitcher lay scattered all over the stone floor.

  A pillow lying at the bottom of the bed was stripped of its slip.

  No sign of Margaret.

  He called Lassiter. “Not here. Signs of possible struggle. The pitcher is broken and—”

  “Find her. She’s not with Patrick.” He was cursing softly. “I thought you said there was no problem about security. Could it have been someone from the detention camp?”

  “No, I swear to you that no one broke into the monastery. The perimeter around it couldn’t be tighter.” He was running out of Margaret’s room and down the hall and across the courtyard. “There’s only one way I can think of that—” He threw open the door of the storage room and turned on the light.

  Blood.

  Ed Dietrich was lying crumpled on the floor beside the window overlooking the courtyard. His eyes were open and staring straight up at the ceiling.

  His throat had been cut.

  “Dietrich’s dead,” he told Lassiter as he dropped to his knees beside Dietrich. “That son of a bitch Brukman must have gotten out of his handcuffs, overpowered him from behind, and then grabbed his knife. His throat’s been cut.” He forced himself to look for more to report. It was hard to get his head straight. Dietrich was only twenty-nine. He had fought with him in Afghanistan and Mandell had always liked him. “Brukman took his weapons, phone, money clip, and credit cards.”