Murdock's Last Stand

“Well, that takes a load off my mind, Catherine.” He emphasized the use of her given name and took great delight in the displeased look she gave him. But instincts warned him that her giving lip service to his leadership and actually following his orders were two different things entirely.

Murdock filled a kettle with tap water, then placed it on the stove eye to heat. Taking two black mugs and a small box from an upper cabinet, he set them on the counter and then removed a couple of tea bags and placed them in the oversize cups.

“I’d like to freshen up,” Catherine said.

“Bathroom is to your right, between the two bedrooms. Can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.”

She found the bathroom and hurried inside, then closed the door behind her. She slumped against the wall, letting her head rest on the cool glass-block surface that enclosed the small room. What was she doing here, in this man’s apartment, making preparations to fly away with him on a dangerous trip into foreign country? She didn’t have an adventurous bone in her body. All her life, she had taken the safe path, avoiding all unnecessary risks. And here she was, putting her life in this stranger’s hands, gambling her very existence on his ability to keep her safe. Had she completely lost her mind?

If you don’t go to Zaraza, your father will die in prison, her conscience taunted her. You have no choice, but to do the right thing. Somehow she knew that if her mother were alive, her mother would risk anything to save the man she had cut out of her life ages ago— A man whose name Mae Beth McCroskey had whispered with her last breath. If her mother had loved her father that much, then Lanny had to be worth saving.

Catherine wet a washcloth and patted the cool dampness over her face as she gazed into the mirror. She hadn’t slept well last night and it showed in the faint darkness under her eyes. After washing her hands, she left the sanctuary of the bathroom and returned to the kitchen area of Murdock’s apartment.

As she approached him, she said, “You knew my father very well, didn’t you?”

“He was my sergeant in Vietnam,” Murdock said. “That’s where we met. And then later, we worked together.”

“As mercenaries?” Catherine pulled out one of the round-back metal stools that lined the wide bar which separated the kitchen from the rest of the open space.

Murdock didn’t answer her immediately. Instead, he rummaged around in the refrigerator. When he turned to face her, he held a plate of sliced ham, a head of lettuce and a ripe red tomato. “Want a sandwich? It’s nearly dinnertime.”

Murdock placed the dish on the counter, puzzling over her sudden curiosity. Just what did Catherine want to know about her father? he wondered. How much did he dare tell her about Lanny’s life? About the assignments they had shared, the risks they’d taken, the bloodbaths they had been a part of more than once. He didn’t think Lanny would want his little girl to know the details of his soldier-of-fortune life.

“I know that after my father returned from Vietnam, he resigned from the army and became a mercenary,” she continued. “His job choice was one of the reasons he and my mother eventually divorced.”

“Then why ask me, if you already know?”

“Because I never really knew Lanny McCroskey.” Catherine eased down on one of the stools and hooked her feet beneath the circular rounds on the bottom. “I was barely eight years old when he came home from Vietnam and in those eight years, he’d been away from us more than he’d been with us. Then three years later, he and my mother divorced. I never saw him again.” She paused, waiting for Murdock to comment. He didn’t. Instead he laid plates on the counter and opened a loaf of bread.

“Ham sandwiches okay with you?”

“Why don’t you want to talk to me about my father?”

“Mustard? Mayonnaise? Both?”

“Are you deliberately trying to irritate me?”

“All I’m trying to do is fix you some tea and a sandwich.”

Catherine stared at the big man. The expression on his face one of total calm, Murdock met her gaze head-on and didn’t so much as flinch. What was it that he was determined not to tell her? Why was he being so evasive?

“I’ll take both mayo and mustard,” she replied. “But please, let me help.” She knew there was nothing she could do to persuade this man to talk to her, to tell her about her father. All she could do was cooperate. After all, whether she liked it or not, she needed Murdock to go with her into Zaraza and bring her father back alive. He could well be her father’s only hope for survival—and her only hope, too.

“Sit tight,” he told her. “I can throw a couple of sandwiches together.”

She nodded her agreement. They exchanged brief, hesitant looks. But she understood the significance of his quick yet penetrating stare. And she suspected that he knew exactly what she was thinking. They were strangers, two people joined in a common cause—saving Lanny McCroskey’s life. After all, her father was their only bond, the only reason they’d met. Neither wanted or needed to become better acquainted. Each feared the other, on a purely primitive level. And despite their shared interest in Lanny’s welfare, they didn’t quite trust each other.

Silence separated them as surely as if it were a tangible wall. Murdock prepared the sandwiches and tea, then placed a plate and mug in front of Catherine. He eased his large frame down beside her on one of the stools, then lifted the thick sandwich to his mouth. She sipped the tea and eyed the man-size sandwich he’d made for her.

“The war messed your father up pretty badly.” Murdock laid down the sandwich and lifted the mug in both hands, gripping it firmly. “You know. Mentally and emotionally. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be the man he’d been before…he just couldn’t be.”

“Why didn’t he get help? A psychiatrist could have—”

“All the doctors in the world couldn’t have put Lanny McCroskey back together. Believe me, Catherine, he wanted to be a good husband and father. And he did try. For a couple of years. But once he realized he was hurting your mother…and you…by being in your lives, he split.”

“And became a mercenary?” Catherine nervously circled the rim of her mug with the tip of her index finger.

“He was a trained soldier. It was the only life he knew. And…” Should he tell her? Murdock wondered. It wasn’t as if she were still a kid who needed protection from the truth. She was a grown woman. “I think your old man had a death wish.”

Her full, pink lips formed an oblong oval as she gasped softly. “A death wish?”

“I was with him the day he…well, the day I thought he died. One of the last things he said to me was that he’d been living on borrowed time ever since Nam.”

“You were with him when—”

“We were on an assignment in Zaraza. We were trying to get through enemy lines in order to get a vital message to a contact.” He couldn’t tell her details of the mission or explain that the U.S. government had been playing a part in the ongoing revolution for the past twenty years. “Your father sent me with the message, knowing that by staying behind, he was saving my life and sacrificing his. So you see, if he’s still alive and there’s some way I can get him out of Zaraza, then I’m going to.”

“Because you owe him your life?”

“Yeah. Because I owe him my life.”

Catherine lifted the mug to her lips and sipped the tea. She preferred it with neither cream, sugar nor lemon and apparently Murdock liked his the same way. They ate and drank in silence, each avoiding any eye contact. After Catherine ate half her sandwich and drank all her tea, she slipped off the stool and, with her back to Murdock, made her way across the room.

She paused momentarily and asked, “Which bedroom should I use?”

“The one on the left of the bathroom,” he told her.

“Then if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be alone for a while.”

He watched her disappear into the small guest bedroom that he used mostly as a study. Perhaps he should have given her his room, which was larger and less cramped. But the bed in the extra room was an old double bed, which meant his feet would hang over the footboard. One of the drawbacks of being six foot six.

Busying himself cleaning up the kitchen, Murdock started trying to figure out just how to handle Catherine Price. A man would have to be dead not to notice how attractive she was. But a smart man would keep his distance from a lady who so obviously considered him as nothing more than a necessary means to an end. No doubt, she wouldn’t give him the time of day, if she didn’t need him to get her and her hundred thousand into Zaraza and secure her and Lanny’s safety.

He had known her type back in Mississippi, where he’d done yard work for rich families when he’d been a teenager. Sweet little innocent Southern belles liked to flirt and give poor boys ideas. And Barbara had been the society type, too. Rich and pampered. She’d led him on, making him believe she loved him, when all along she’d had no intention of making a commitment to him. That had been years ago, but he’d learned his lesson well. Barbara had been an excellent teacher.

He knew Catherine wasn’t Barbara. Physically they didn’t resemble each other at all. But her superior attitude, her air of snobbery, the slightly condescending way in which she looked at him reminded him of a woman he thought he’d long since not only cut out of his heart, but exorcised from his soul. Like the demon she had been.

If he didn’t owe Lanny McCroskey his life, no amount of money could induce him to spend the next few days with Catherine. She was the kind of woman he avoided, at all costs. The moment he’d seen her, he’d known they would mix like oil and water. He might not be the smartest guy on earth, but he had sense enough to know that dealing with Lanny’s daughter was going to be one big headache.

Even though she’d promised to take orders, something told him that if she ever disagreed with his commands, she’d buck him. Before they left for Peru, he had to make certain she truly realized the dangers that confronted them and that one wrong move could cost both of them their lives.

With loud, marching steps, Murdock stormed across the room and into the square hallway that separated the two bedrooms. The guest room door stood open just enough to give him a glimpse of Catherine lying across the bed, the red spread in place beneath her. He paused, his hand hovering in midair. Maybe she was asleep, he thought.

Their talk could wait, couldn’t it? She’d be in a better mood once she’d rested, perhaps more willing to truly accept his leadership in their joint venture. If she were a sensible woman, she’d realize that following his instructions could easily mean the difference between success and failure, between life and death—for her and her father.

The moment Murdock walked away from the bedroom door, Catherine opened her eyes. She had sensed his presence and feigned sleep. She couldn’t deal with Murdock. Not now. Later perhaps. She knew it was only a matter of time before they would have to discuss their trip to Zaraza. She suspected she would have no choice but to accept Murdock’s being in command. She dreaded the thought of letting him boss her around. She’d been an independent woman all her life. Even as a teenager, she’d made her own decisions and taken care of herself. Her mother had been dear and sweet and kind. But Mae Beth McCroskey had been a weak woman whose life had crumbled into loneliness and misery once she lost her husband. But Catherine was made of stronger stuff. She had sworn no man would ever have that much power over her—enough power to break her heart and destroy her life.

She had never needed anyone. Not even Rodney. Her husband had understood and accepted her need to control every aspect of her own life and he had never asked for more than she’d been willing to give.

Catherine sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, then let her bare feet touch the polished hardwood floor. Rising from the bed, she stretched, then lifted her suitcase and set it on the arms of the wooden rocker in the corner. The best way to avoid Murdock tonight was to take a bath and go to bed. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough to deal with the big man again.

She removed her toiletries case and set it on the small, cluttered desk to her right, then lifted her pajamas, robe and slippers from the suitcase. As she reached down for the vinyl case, her hand accidentally knocked a manila folder off the desk and onto the floor. With her clothing draped over her arm and her slippers secured in one hand, she reached down and picked up the folder, intending to return it to the desk. But just as she lifted it, she noticed her name scrawled across the top in a large, bold handwriting that she felt certain belonged to Murdock. Tossing her clothing and slippers on the bed, she flipped open the folder. As she scanned the thick report, her hands tightened around the folder, crushing the edges of the papers she held.

Damn him! How dare he! What gave him the right?

In her bare feet, Catherine stormed out of the guest room and ran into the living room. Murdock sat in one of the big leather chairs, his feet resting on the matching ottoman, a book in one hand. He glanced up at her, his gaze casual.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he said.

Catherine held up the crumpled file folder as if she were confronting him with a murder weapon in a trial. Her gaze narrowed angrily on his expressionless face.

“Is something wrong?” He slid his feet off the ottoman and onto the floor, then laid his book on the arm of the chair and stood to face her.

“This is a report on me,” Catherine told him, her voice trembling with rage. “You know every detail of my life from birth to the present. You have a copy of my birth certificate, my marriage license, even my dental records. How dare you invade my privacy this way?” She rushed toward him, flung the file folder in his face and screamed, “You had no right to do this!”

“You’re getting yourself all worked up over nothing.”

She hated the calmness in his voice, hated the rational, emotionless way he was acting. “How would you like it if I’d had an extensive report compiled on you? Would you like for me to know everything there is to know about you?”

Murdock moved forward, bringing his body within inches of her. When he looked down at her, she noticed gold specks in his hazel-brown eyes. She stepped backward. He lowered his head a fraction, then reached out and grasped her shoulders.

“All that’s in the report on you are facts and figures.” He glanced meaningfully at the scattered papers lying on the floor. “Those don’t tell me everything there is to know about you. Only you can do that.”

Garnering all her willpower, she forced herself not to tremble at his touch, not to allow his massive size and imposing self-assurance to intimidate her. “Why did you have the report compiled?”

“I’m going to be responsible for you, for keeping you safe, from now until we bring Lanny back to the United States. When I take an assignment, I always do my homework. When I become someone’s bodyguard, it’s my standard procedure to find out as much as possible about them.”

Titling her chin, she glared into his eyes, seeking and finding the truth of his statement. She believed him, and yet she couldn’t let go of her anger. If it was Murdock’s standard procedure to have a report compiled on all of his clients, then why did she still feel as if his knowing the details of her life was tantamount to his having stripped her naked?

He made no move to release his hold on her. His big, callused hands clutched her shoulders with gentle strength.

Feeling as if they were in a contest of wills, she refused to be the first to break eye contact. “Somehow it doesn’t seem quite fair that you know so much about me and I know so little about you.”

Easing one hand down and around her waist, while the other wound around the back of her neck, Murdock lowered his head farther, until his mouth was a hair-breadth away from hers. “Just what do you want to know about me?”

Chapter 3

The flight from Atlanta to Peru had taken off precisely at eight. Catherine hadn’t known that they would be flying on the Dundee private jet—just one of many things Murdock hadn’t bothered explaining. Their confrontation last night had ended in a stalemate. He hadn’t won the battle. And she hadn’t actually lost it. In retrospect she could admit to herself that she’d never been as frightened or as excited by a man as she’d been when Murdock had almost kissed her. If she hadn’t withdrawn, hadn’t pulled back, hadn’t broken eye contact, she wasn’t sure what might have happened.

The logical part of her personality felt a great sense of relief that she’d had the good sense not to allow her emotions free rein. But the purely female aspects of her mind and body couldn’t forget the way she’d felt and longed to feel again.

“How about some breakfast?” Murdock unhooked his seat belt, then rose and headed toward the galley. “There’s coffee and sweet rolls and muffins. What’ll you have?”

Catherine released the catch of her seat belt, stood and stretched. She had chosen brown pants and a tan jacket of a nonwrinkle material for the long trip, planning to use the outfit more than once. She had packed light. After all, this was supposed to be a quick trip in and out of Zaraza. All they had to do was pay the ransom money for her father and then bring him out of the country as fast as possible.

Without replying to Murdock, she made her way to the galley and poured her own coffee, picked up a paper napkin and then chose a sweet roll from the assortment. She didn’t bother even looking at her bodyguard. To be honest, she was having a difficult time facing him this morning, after the way she’d run from him last evening. He had to be aware of the way he’d affected her—of the reason she’d run from him.

“Giving me the silent treatment today?” Murdock filled his cup, grabbed two rolls and watched Catherine as she sat and crossed her ankles in a demure, ladylike fashion.

Was she upset with him? he wondered. Still angry that he’d compiled an extensive report on her? Or was her attitude the result of something a little more basic? She had run from him last night, as if he’d been a monster ready to devour her.

“I’m more than willing to talk to you.” She tilted her nose just enough to imply superiority. “As a matter of fact, I have dozens of questions and I’d very much like some answers.”

Murdock sat beside her, then lifted his coffee mug in a salute. “Fire away. What do you want to know?”

Eyeing him suspiciously, she picked up the roll from the napkin on her knee, brought it to her mouth and took a bite. After laying the roll back on the napkin, she took a sip of coffee. “Since we’re using the Dundee jet, why aren’t we flying directly into Zaraza today?”

“Because only Zarazaian planes are allowed in and out of the country right now. Even the commercial flights have been canceled temporarily.”

“Then how are we going to fly into—”

“Arrangements are being made for us to take a Zarazaian plane. Hopefully, by tomorrow morning, we’ll be in San Carlos.”

“Hopefully? Do you mean there’s a chance we—”

“My contact in Lima should be able to arrange the flight,” Murdock told her.

Catherine glowered at Murdock. “Would you mind allowing me to finish one sentence without interrupting? Don’t you have any manners at all?”

Murdock chuckled. Manners? Had she actually said manners? “Sorry, ma’am. I’m afraid not spending much time around ladies, I have forgotten my manners.”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm, either!”

“You don’t appreciate much of anything about me, do you, Cat?”

“Cat!”

“Yeah, honey, that’s what you remind me of—a spitting, hissing she-cat, who has her claws drawn and is ready to fight, even with very little provocation.”

“My name isn’t Cait or Cathy and it most definitely isn’t Cat. It’s Catherine. Do I make myself clear… Aloysius?” Her lips curved in a self-satisfied smile. She could tell from the sudden tension in his jaws and the narrowing of his eyes that her use of his given name had accomplished the desired effect.

“Nobody calls me Aloysius.” His voice roared, deep, throaty and harsh.

“Then we have a deal—you don’t call me Cat and I won’t call you Aloysius.”

“So, the lady knows how to fight dirty.” Setting his mug and roll on the tray in front of him, he turned to her. She visibly cringed when he settled his gaze directly on her face. “In case you didn’t know it, that was a compliment…Catherine.”

“Thank you.” She wished he’d stop inspecting her so thoroughly.

His big hand came toward her so quickly that she had no time to withdraw before he wiped the corner of her mouth with the tip of his index finger. She sucked in her breath and held it until her lungs ached for release.

Her startled eyes expressed what she felt. Murdock realized touching her had been a mistake. One he shouldn’t make again. He sensed a hunger in Catherine that could be dangerous for both of them. “You had sugar from the sweet roll on—”

She released her breath and glowered at him. “Next time, just tell me. I’m perfectly capable of wiping my own mouth.”

He stood abruptly. With his back to her, he said, “You’re perfectly capable of doing a great deal, I’m sure.”

Why was she allowing this man to have such a negative effect on her? she wondered. Just because she found herself attracted to him, on some purely primitive, animalistic level, didn’t mean she would ever act on those unwanted feelings. And there was no excuse for her taking out her frustration and anger with her father on Murdock, no matter how alike the two men were. This man meant nothing to her and never would.

“Murdock?”

His big shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

“Let’s call a truce,” she said. “I admit that I’ve been deliberately difficult, but so have you. Can’t we be more pleasant to each other and agree to disagree on certain issues? After all, we have to put up with each other for only a few days. Just long enough to rescue my father.”

Hell! She’s right, he thought. Just because she pushed all his buttons didn’t mean he had to react like an idiot when she irritated him. So what if her superior, lady-of-the-manor persona reminded him of Barbara the Beast. So what if she’d made it abundantly clear that she didn’t like him. So what if she was a good-looking woman and when they came into physical contact with each other, sparks flew.

He turned slowly and by the time he faced her, he had a forced smile in place. “No more squabbles. We have a mission to accomplish together, whether we like it or not.”

“Do you think we’ll run into any major problems once we arrive in San Carlos?” she asked, wanting to focus on their joint venture and not on the man himself.

“Anything can happen once we cross the border over into Zaraza. That’s why it’s imperative that you don’t question any command I issue. If I tell you to jump off a bridge, then by God, you jump off that bridge without hesitation. Do you understand?”

Every muscle in Catherine’s body stiffened. She despised the thought of mindlessly following anyone’s lead. But her common sense told her that in this case she needed to make an exception. “I understand.”

He eyed her skeptically.

“Really. I do understand. I won’t like it,” she admitted. “But I will do whatever you tell me to do.”

“Without asking me a bunch of dumb fool questions?”

“Yes.”

“Then there’s a good chance that you and Lanny and I will be on a plane out of Zaraza by day after tomorrow.”

The six-and-half-hour flight to Peru seemed much longer. She and Murdock had talked very little, each aware that by not conversing, they were less likely to argue and break their new pledge of cooperation and cordiality. She’d tried to read the paperback novel she’d hidden away in her purse, but had been unable to concentrate. However, Murdock hadn’t seemed to have any trouble concentrating on the two action-adventure movies he’d watched to pass away the time.