Exposed

Tory sat back down, jotted the physical description of the man on her notepad and put a question mark next to his name.

“Who was that?” she asked the receptionist.

Before the woman could answer, Juan Perez arrived. He was a few inches taller than her. He had dark hair and olive-toned skin. He wore battle fatigues and combat boots.

“Señorita Patton?”

“Sí.”

“I’m Juan Perez. Welcome to Paraiso. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“No problem.”

“Let’s go into my office where we can talk.”

Tory followed him down the marble hallway into an office that overlooked the ocean. The office was sparsely furnished with a battered-looking desk. Perez gestured to one of the guest chairs. Tory sat down on the edge and had her pen poised ready to start asking questions.

The phone rang before she could.

“Perez,” the minister said into the phone.

He listened for a few minutes, glanced at Tory and then hung up the phone.

“I’m sorry, Miss Patton. But something has come up and I won’t be able to speak to you today.”

“We’ll set up another time, then. Tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid this business will keep me tied up for…some time.”

“Okay. Then tell me where King is being held so that I can set up a time to interview him.”

“I’m sorry, but that will no longer be possible.”

“What are you talking about? You called my network.”

“I’m afraid that was a mistake.”

Perez quickly showed her the door. No matter what questions she asked, he remained stubbornly reticent. A few minutes later she was standing alone under the hot late-afternoon sun of Puerto Isla, wondering what the hell was going on and why the invitation to an exclusive interview had suddenly been revoked.

Chapter 3

T he next morning Tory woke up ready to work. After her disastrous meeting with Perez, she and Jay had gone to the prison to see where King had been held. The guard at the prison hadn’t been any more cooperative than Perez had been. Jay had gotten a few long shots that they’d use when they edited the piece. Tory was beginning to feel that her exclusive interview with King wasn’t going to come through.

Shannon had been in the lobby when Tory and Jay had returned, but Tory had ignored her and returned to her room to contact Cathy Jackson in UBC’s research department. She’d spent thirty minutes on the phone describing the man she’d seen in the palace hallway and asking Cathy to pull information on Perez, Del Torro and Puerto Isla.

Tory had finally realized that the man she’d seen in the presidential palace was Chris Pearson. Pearson was a good friend of James Whitlow, the president of the United States. And many observers of the White House had noted Pearson’s influence on the U.S. president. Tory tucked that away for later.

This morning the sun shone brightly through the gap in the room’s blackout drapes. Tory stretched her arms over her head, remembering the story she’d read in the newspaper about the hostage incident earlier that year. It had been a small article in the world-news section saying only that four hostages had been killed on Puerto Isla by a group of local guerrillas.

According to the information she’d retrieved from her e-mail last night, Thomas King’s SEAL team had been dispatched to rescue those hostages. What had gone wrong?

She knew they’d been based out of Little Creek, Virginia. During her three-hour layover in Miami she’d placed a call to the base there and spoken to Lieutenant Joe Peterson in the public-affairs office. He’d given her strictly the facts, which she’d passed on to Cathy in research for follow-up. All he’d really said was that the navy was very happy to find King alive. But she hadn’t been satisfied with the answers she’d received.

They were, of course, thrilled that Thomas King was alive and recovering in a hospital in Paraiso. The extent of his injuries had been unknown to Peterson, but he did indicate that King had been starved and beaten.

She had a profile of the team that had been sent in. As she looked at the military ID photos that accompanied each name and short bio, her heart ached that only one of them had survived.

She’d pressed Peterson, trying to find out why King hadn’t been moved to a U.S. airbase, and had been very politely told that King was a guest of the Puerto Isla government.

Someone didn’t want him to leave, but who and why? Perez had definitely been in favor of her interview when she’d called him from Miami. What had changed when she arrived on the island?

She wondered if it was injury-related starvation, which could take a terrible toll on the body. The man had been in prison for six months. The only other reason Tory could think of was that he’d seen something he wasn’t supposed to. But what?

When she’d spoken to him on the phone, Juan Perez had alluded to the fact that King wasn’t well enough to move.

She felt a sense of urgency to get to Thomas King. She didn’t question it. Trust your gut. It was something Rainy had said to her many times when she’d been trying to figure out a puzzle. And her gut was usually right.

Three policemen stood in the entrance to the coffee shop just off the lobby talking to Jay. He caught her eye and tilted his head back sharply. Tory ducked behind a large potted plant and edged closer to Jay.

“…Señorita Patton,” said the tallest of the guards. He was dirty and unshaved and a long, wicked-looking scar curved across his cheekbone, disappearing into his oily whiskers.

“¿Cuáles el problema?” Jay asked the guards.

“What’s the problem?” he’d asked. And Tory leaned a little closer, trying to make out the guard’s response.

“…para el comportamiento sospechoso,” the guard said.

Suspicious behavior? Great. She wondered if one of the people she’d spoken to yesterday in the market had called the cops on her. She hadn’t even gotten started yet. Sinking back against the potted plant, she waited until she heard the guards leave. They’d probably stake out her room and wait for her to return.

Well, she’d known that her exclusive story had some risks. She thought briefly about packing up her stuff and heading back home. Tyson would understand. But Tory wondered if she’d ever be able to look herself in the eye again.

She wanted to visit—as a journalist, not as a guest—the prison where King had been held. The story was flowing through her veins. And though it might be dangerous to stay on Puerto Isla, she knew that nothing would satisfy her until she figured out the puzzle that was this exclusive interview with a SEAL.

She peered around the plant and saw that the lobby was clear. She hurried out the front door of the hotel, her pulse pounding and her hands shaking. She wasn’t used to evading the local cops. A hand snaked out and grabbed her arm as she exited the hotel.

She jerked her arm free and spun around, hitting her assailant with a jab. She tried to lessen the pressure when she realized it was Jay.

He grunted and rubbed his jaw. His breath smelled like coffee and mints.

“You’re a dangerous woman to know, Patton,” he said under his breath. He pivoted so that she was pressed up against the side of the hotel wall and his body shielded hers from view. A little too close for friendly working-relationship comfort.

“Sorry about that,” she said, stepping sideways and away from his body. Jay was her co-worker and she reminded herself that she was involved with Perry. She was feeling things she wouldn’t normally feel if they’d been on her home turf.

He sighed and leaned against the wall next to her. He thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his pants.

“I’ve done worse damage tripping over a chair,” he said with a wry shrug.

“So la policía are after me?”

He gave her a wry look beneath his eyelashes. “Yeah, who’d you tick off?”

The list was short and she had a feeling that this problem had followed her from New York. “It could have been one of the people I spoke to at the marketplace. But I’ve got to be honest—I don’t think they like the police.”

“Yeah, but I got the feeling the locals don’t like the americanos that much, either.”

“You didn’t sound American,” she said, then had another thought. “I thought I saw Shannon following us yesterday.” Did Shannon hate her enough to throw her to the island militia, which pretended to be all that stood between Puerto Isla and lawlessness? Tory knew the answer and she suspected Jay did, as well.

“Do you think Shannon called them?”

He shrugged. Reaching out, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You do look very American.”

She waggled her eyebrows at him. She’d been in scary situations before. She’d never forget the first night she’d spent in the maximum-security prison for her story on women behind bars. This wasn’t any different. She’d done nothing the Puerto Isla cops could hold her on.

“I’m good at wiggling out of tight spots,” she said.

“Let’s hope you don’t have to use that skill while you’re here.”

“I want to go to the hospital where King is being held and see if we can’t get our interview tonight.” She’d made another call to Perez and had flat out told him she wasn’t leaving the island without her interview. In fact, he could have sent the police to arrest her. But he’d reluctantly told her to call again in the morning. He’d see what he could do.

What if Del Torro’s government didn’t want her to see King until he’d recovered from his time in their prison? She thought it would be in their favor to demonstrate how different they were from Santiago’s government. But Perez had done an abrupt change in position in the past twenty-four hours. And Tory knew that she was working on a short clock. She needed to get to King, and quickly.

“You got it, boss lady. I’ll grab my camera gear and meet you here.”

They pulled up to the hospital where Thomas King was being treated just after lunchtime.

Jay parked the vehicle and they headed toward the building. Two men with AK-47 assault riffles stood at attention at the entrance, despite the fact that it was a public hospital, not a military one. Considering the fact that there was still a curfew and guerrilla unrest on the island, the guards weren’t unexpected. But they did give her pause as she walked toward them.

There was something unnerving about men in uniform with guns. Tory put on her most charming smile and approached them. “¡Hola! Soy Tory Patton con UBC. Estoy aquí ver a un paciente americano.”

“Ningunos visitantes permitieron adentro hoy.”

No visitors, interesting. She’d hoped they’d just let her in. “I’m with the press and spoke yesterday to Juan Perez. Is there someone here I can speak to?”

“No.”

“I’m just going to go inside and talk to the doctor in charge, okay?” Tory said. From past experience, she knew that, if you kept talking and walking, usually you could get in anywhere.

“No visitors.” Both of the guards stepped closer together, blocking her path.

“Okay,” she said, backing away.

“That was a little weird,” Jay said once they were out of earshot of the guard.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t they let us in?” she asked.

“The police captain who was asking for you mentioned that they are enforcing a strict curfew.”

“What time? It’s only the afternoon.”

“I know. I don’t think things are going as smoothly for the new government as we were led to believe.”

“Me, either. If we have time, we’ll try again to shoot some tape on the street talking to the citizens about the new government.”

She and Jay got back in the Jeep. Tory glanced over and noticed the guards still watching them. “Damn, this ticks me off. I’m not going back to the States without this story.”

“So what’s next? Come back later?”

“Did you bring the hidden-camera unit I used for the prison story?” Tory asked. The hidden camera actually looked like a purse and had a switch that she could flip to record.

“Yes. I wasn’t sure what the situation was going to be like here.”

“Jay, I love you.”

“Ha, you say that to all the guys.”

“Yeah, but with you I mean it.”

He climbed over the seat and dug around in his camera gear until he found the camera and small handbag that went with it. Tory shot some test film of Jay climbing back into the front seat. She rewound the film and played it back.

“This looks good. Okay, drop me off around back. I’m going to make sure King’s really in there.”

“I’ll park up there and wait for you.” Jay gestured to a park a block away, overlooking the ocean. “If you’re not back in thirty minutes I’m coming in after you.”

“I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

Tory got out of the Jeep at the corner, and Jay drove up the block to park and wait.

The afternoon sun was weakened by storm clouds gathering over the mountains. Tory walked as if she had a purpose and a reason to enter the building. She approached the ER entrance of the hospital and saw two armed guards there, as well.

She ducked back in the shadow of the building before they could spot her. Help me out here, Rainy.

A minute later she saw a man with a nasty-looking wound in his chest walking toward the hospital. He was held upright by the swarthy woman under his arm. Two bedraggled kids followed behind her.

There were a couple of teenage girls in the family, as well. The girls were taller than Tory was, and she was able to walk just a few steps behind them and blend into the family.

Thank you, Rainy.

Tory followed the family to the nurses’ station and stood back while they were helped by the one nurse on duty. She led the family to a small partitioned area.

Tory glanced around quickly. Several people sat in chairs in the waiting area, and a doctor in scrubs walked past the desk and down another hallway.

Tory hurried behind the desk and shifted through the papers on the desk. She wasn’t sure if King’s name would be used on file or not. He’d been rescued only three days ago. She assumed he’d be in the critical-care unit.

She scanned the hospital layout and found that those units were on the fourth floor. She walked around the desk as a nurse reappeared.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked in Spanish.

“No, thanks.” Tory got on the elevator and went to the fourth floor.

She stepped off the elevator and came face-to-face with two armed guards.

“Este piso es fuera de límites.”

Tory smiled at the men and got back on the elevator. She went down one floor. She asked where the stairs were and climbed back up to the fourth floor.

She cautiously opened the door and saw the guards still at their post in front of the elevators. She wished she had a doctor’s coat but she didn’t know where they’d be stored here, if at all. Maybe she could find some surgical scrubs to wear.

She eased out into the hallway and kept close to the wall. She felt as if she had a huge orange neon sign on her back. Her heart beat so rapidly that she was convinced Jay could hear it a block away. Finally she turned the corner away from the guards.

She opened the door to the first room on the left and found it empty. She closed the door and started toward the next door.

“¡Parada!”

Tory glanced over her shoulder and saw one of the guards from the elevator. She sprinted away from him around another corner, dashing into the first open doorway and shutting the door. She scanned the dark room. It was empty. I’m going to have a heart attack.

A pair of arms came around her. A hard-gloved hand clamped over her mouth, and her head was tilted back at an uncomfortable angle. The body behind hers was hard, masculine and smelled too damned good.

Tory knew there was no rule that bad guys had to smell bad, but she thought there should be. Her instincts took over. She lifted her left leg and brought her heel down hard on her attacker’s instep, but he didn’t even groan at the impact. Instead he brought one of his legs around hers, trapping her. She tried to move but she was surrounded by his body.

She heard running in the hall. She tried to glance over at her captor but couldn’t until he released her jaw. Her eyes widened as she recognized the man holding her. His grip loosened as he identified her, as well.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Bennington Forsythe asked.

“I think that’s a question I should be asking,” Tory said. She scarcely recognized this Bennington. Instead of flawlessly cut designer clothing, he wore a black T-shirt and jeans. But the biggest change was his expression. Gone was the charming man-about-town and in his place was a dangerous man who made Tory wary.

Footsteps sounded right outside the door. Bennington cursed under his breath. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her across the room and into a closet.

“Quiet,” he said in a whisper that carried no farther than her ears.

Tory stood tensely next to her friend’s brother, her mind spinning with a totally new puzzle. Bennington Forsythe—international playboy or spy?

Tory was still trying to process what had happened. One minute she was running from an armed guard; the next she was standing nose to nose with one of the best-known playboys in the Western Hemisphere. Had she taken a turn and stumbled into Alice’s rabbit hole?

“Bennington, what are you doing here?”

“Not now.”

One of the door guards entered the room, walking past their hiding place in the closet. The door was partially open, and she could discern the shadows of the men as they searched the room.

Their shapes were large and bulky. Tory closed her eyes and slowed her breathing the way she did for yoga, focusing very carefully on making sure that her body relaxed from the sprint into the building.

Bennington kept his hand over her mouth. Now that the shock of seeing him was rubbing off, her training from her Athena days was kicking in. She heard the men moving in the room and knew the danger implicit in being caught. She’d been the one running from them.

Actually she’d probably have to rescue Bennington if they were discovered. Despite his long-ago military training, the hardest he’d exercised recently would probably have been in bed with those two supermodels he’d been photographed with. She reached behind her and felt along his belt to see if he was armed.

His thumb rubbed against her cheekbone, and for a minute Tory totally forgot everything else. They were alone in a small, dark space. Deprived of sight, she felt her other senses were on hyperalert.

Tingles spread down her body from his caressing thumb. This was the Ben she knew. A charming Casanova with a girl in every port. God, he was an idiot to be on Puerto Isla. But she guessed he wasn’t here for the sport fishing, though it was some of the best in the world.

The arm he had around her waist tightened, and he pulled her more fully back against him. He spread his fingers and she felt his touch at the bottom of her breast. She shifted in his arms. His hand moved up over her ribs, his touch hot through the layer of her thin cotton T-shirt.

She stepped down on his instep again. He didn’t say a word but tightened his grip on her.

Even though two thugs were less than a few feet from them, her mind filled with sexy images of her and Bennington. She needed some space.

She bit his palm when he didn’t move his hand, but he didn’t drop it. She still had on her backpack so they weren’t pressed too closely together, but he seemed to surround her. He was solid muscle. Maybe he’d had more recent training than she’d thought.

Using his grip on her, he tipped her head back and whispered straight in her ear. “Quiet.”

The one word was a command. She nodded to let him know she’d understood. With all those muscles, even if he didn’t have martial-arts training, he’d be able to take care of one of the guys. Quickly she turned, reaching for his waist to see if he was armed or wearing a holster.

Ben grabbed her hand.

“What are you doing?” he asked in that soundless whisper again, his hot breath grazing her ear with each word he spoke.

“Getting ready to rescue you,” she whispered back. Once again she reached for his waist.

“Patton, don’t push me,” he hissed. He captured her hand in another one of his unbreakable grips.

“Oh, why not?”

A chair scraped across the floor in the room, and Tory froze. She strained away from Ben, ready to confront the men searching the room. But he pulled her deeper into the recess of the closet.

“Enough.”

She felt him move around her and saw the glint off the barrel of his gun as he pushed her behind him. So he was armed.

The sliding door scraped along the track as one of the men pushed it open. He played the flashlight over the interior with clumsy skill. A voice called out from the hallway, and the guard turned just before the flashlight would have illuminated their spot. The guard muttered something in Spanish and retreated from the room.

Tory waited until they could no longer hear the guards, then pushed her way past Bennington, intent on getting some answers. She stepped out of the closet and turned on him. “What was that all about?”

“Keep your voice down—they could come back.”

“I know that.” Damn, he’d made her forget her Athena Academy training.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. Every line in his body was tense. He vigilantly watched the door. Tory couldn’t reconcile the man standing before her with the man she knew as Alex’s brother.

“I’m looking for Thomas King. I came here to interview him.”

“How did you know he was here?” His eyes narrowed, she felt caught under his eaglelike glare.

“My boss got a call from the minister of foreign affairs, Juan Perez. I don’t think it’s been leaked to every network yet.”

“It shouldn’t have even been leaked to you.”

“How do you know that? And what are you doing here, Bennington?”

Before he could answer, they heard footsteps approaching again. The person stopped outside their door, and Tory dropped into a fighting stance as the door-knob turned.

“Stay behind me, Ben. I have a third-degree black belt in tae kwon do. I’ll protect you.”

“Like hell. You Athena grads think you can take on the world one-handed,” Ben said.

“We can.”

“Not today. I’ve got a gun, and a gun trumps a black belt any day.”

Chapter 4

T ory didn’t like taking a back seat to Ben, but she hadn’t made it to the top of a very competitive profession by making stupid choices. And though she wasn’t sure of his abilities, he had a point—guns did trump martial arts.

He motioned for her to stand to the left of the door as he glanced around the room. She did as she was ordered.

He kept the barrel of his M-9 pointed toward the door. “You know how to use that thing?”

He didn’t look at her as he took a pillow from the bed and held it in front of the gun barrel, then moved into position on the right side of the door. She realized he’d been searching for a silencer so as not to announce their presence to the guards searching the hospital for her.

“Believe it or not, men trained outside of Athena have some ability with weapons.”

“Did I offend your manhood?” she asked. Ben knew a lot about Athena because his and Alex’s grandfather Charles Forsythe was one of the academy’s founders.

He did look at her this time, and even in the shadowed room she could make out his cocky grin. “Not yet.”

He edged forward and she stayed in position, poised to attack. She remembered midnight training sessions at Athena in which she’d run through the dark, wooded area outside of teacher housing, knowing that other students, all black belts, were waiting to take her down. The exercise had honed her reflexes and stealth skills.

The door opened and a nurse froze in the doorway. Before she could speak, Tory reached past Ben and pulled the woman into the room with them.