Hostage Situation

Paul, on the other hand, appeared quiet and utterly calm, harmless. Though he had been blessed with those same dark good looks, there was a serenity about him that spoke of intelligence and patience. Just two years younger than his brother, the two were, according to the reports she’d read, vastly different. Victor lived by the old rules, where women were nothing more than chattels and anything less than absolute loyalty from his followers was punishable by death. Conversely, Paul lived a quiet, reclusive life with hardly any contact with others.

The brothers had parted ways nearly a decade ago when Paul reportedly got fed up with his brother’s evil deeds and came to live full-time in the United States. Be that as it may, the family blood money, in Renee’s opinion, had to have purchased the lavish estate where he lived. As good as his artwork was, Paul hadn’t made the leap into mainstream popularity yet.

Renee put the file away and dressed for the next step in her plan. Cream-colored slacks, a matching silk blouse and strappy but practical sandals. In her purse, she had the owner’s card from the gallery she’d visited that morning. As far as she could tell, Paul rarely ventured from his estate for anything other than, in very rare instances, a gallery opening or a showing of his work. Even a large showing was no guarantee the artist would be in attendance.

That left her only one option—go to him.

She took the .22 from the box of long-stemmed roses that had been delivered by Jim Colby’s contact here in Key Largo. After strapping on the ankle holster, she snugged the weapon into position. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t have to use it; but if the past was any indication, luck wouldn’t be anywhere around when she needed it most.

6:00 p.m.

OCEAN BOULEVARD was, as the name suggested, flanked by gorgeous sapphire water and dotted by enormous mansions. Near the end of the boulevard, where the most magnificent of the homes reigned over much larger portions of land, Renee pulled up in front of the massive iron gates of the residence belonging to Paul Reyes. She inhaled a deep, fortifying breath. Time to do this for real. She powered her window down, pressed the call button on the speaker box and then waited. Even her heart seemed to stand still as the seconds ticked by in silence.

“Yes?”

Paul Reyes. Although she had never heard his voice, the single word convinced her that it was him. The deep, velvety richness of the timbre matched the dark eyes and the quiet intensity of his face. Or maybe she just wanted it to be him, since she found the vaguely accented sound quite pleasing.

“Mr. Reyes?” She had to be sure. Her anticipation of plunging into her first case might very well be playing havoc with her reason.

“Please state your name and business.”

She looked toward the camera positioned on the wall next to the gate before saying, “My name is Renee Parsons. Mallory Rogers from the Rogers-Hall Gallery suggested I come to you in person with my intriguing proposal.” Then she smiled, the most seductive one in her limited repertoire. Looking stern and purposeful was her most frequently utilized expression.

Renee held her breath now and hoped like hell her plan would work. If he called Mallory Rogers before he allowed Renee inside, she would be in trouble.

The grind of metal jolting into movement hauled her attention to the gates. Her heart jerked back into a frantic pace on the heels of an adrenaline dump. He was going to allow her in.

Anticipation roaring through her like a freight train, she took her foot off the brake pedal, and the vehicle rolled through the entrance which now yawned open. The driveway cut through a lush lawn and ended in a circular parking patio embellished by a massive center fountain.

With the vehicle in Park, she cut the engine and emerged. The air was thick and the heat hadn’t subsided with the sun’s descent. Before closing the door, she reached back inside and grabbed her purse and draped it over her shoulder. Inside her bag she carried a tiny listening device. Barely the size of a quarter, all she had to do was leave it in a strategic spot and she would be able to monitor his conversations in that room. Highly illegal, but a part of the way things were done in her new career.

Knowledge was power and since information on this man and his brother was seriously limited, getting what she needed this way was crucial. She had to learn all she could and burrow in as deeply as possible. Taking any and all appropriate steps to speed up the process, without being too hasty, was absolutely essential to the proper outcome.

She strolled across the lovely flagstone parking patio and up the steps that led to the front entrance. She took her time, made each step as sensual as possible as she surveyed the gorgeous property. He would be watching, and he needed to believe that she deeply appreciated beauty. Staying in character was another key element.

A wide covered portico ran the length of the house in front. She hadn’t been able to see this side of the grand mansion from the water, but it definitely lived up to her expectations. She pressed the doorbell and settled her attention on the lush potted plants on either side of the towering double doors. Not a single detail had been overlooked when planning this Mediterranean-style property. All had been designed to be pleasing to the eye and equally welcoming to all the other senses.

The door opened and she found herself holding her breath all over again.

Paul Reyes stood in the open doorway. Cool linen slacks and shirt designed in pure white contrasted sharply with his smooth, dark skin. “Ms. Rogers has no recall of recommending that anyone pay me an unannounced visit. Do you care to amend your reason for showing up at my door, Ms. Parsons?”

Oh, hell, she was made. But she was here. Might as well give it her best effort. She thrust out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Reyes.”

He looked at her hand, then her. Fortunately, propriety appeared to prevent him from ignoring her gesture. He closed his hand around hers and gave it a shake. His was soft but firm. Dark brown eyes assessed her closely, the slightest hint of suspicion lingering there.

“What is it you desire of me, Ms. Parsons?” he asked as he released her hand. “Your bold determination has intrigued me.”

He was intrigued. That was a start. “I’m from L.A., Mr. Reyes, and my gallery would really love to show your work. From what I’ve learned so far, you don’t show outside Key Largo, though your work sells in several neighboring states. That’s such a terrible waste of your potential. I felt the need for a face-to-face meeting any way I could get it in order to plead my case. We want Paul Reyes to become a household name on the West Coast. We can make that happen.”

Jim Colby had provided a cover for her with a gallery owner friend in the Los Angeles area. That cover profile was her one ace in the hole. If it didn’t work, she was on her own.

For several seconds, Paul Reyes appeared to consider her explanation carefully. There was no way to read what he was thinking, but at least he hadn’t closed the door in her face.

“Do you have any credentials to prove you are who you say you are?”

Relief almost made her smile. “Certainly.” She withdrew her fake California driver’s license and a business card from the gallery on Melrose, each sporting the name Renee Parsons. She passed both to him for his scrutiny. She doubted anyone outside a trained professional would recognize the license was a fake, and the card was real. The owner in L.A. had overnighted a number of things to the hotel in Key Largo to help with Renee’s cover.

“I have a contract proposal if you have the time to review our plan for your incredible work.” The proposal, also provided by the L.A. gallery owner, she carried on a BlackBerry in her bag. “We’re willing to work with you in whatever capacity you feel comfortable. We’re impressed, Mr. Reyes. We want you.” This part was true. Once Jim had shown the gallery in L.A. some digital images of Paul’s work, they had shown interest.

“All right, Ms. Parsons.” He handed her license and card back to her. “Since you’ve come all this way, you have half an hour. Convince me that I should consider your gallery’s offer more seriously and we might be able to do business.”

Half an hour. It was more than she’d hoped for. He opened the door wider in invitation. She was in.

Chapter Two

If Renee had thought the exterior of the house was well appointed, the interior was nothing short of lavish. Cool, sleek marble and cypress floors and soaring ceilings. From where she stood in the entry hall, she could see straight through to the endless blue of the ocean beyond a wall of towering French doors.

The floating staircase in the entry hall was at once grand and utterly modern. Somewhere inside the house the windows stood open, filling the air with the ocean’s lightly salted breeze. It seemed strange to her that he would allow open windows, much less the unobstructed view from the rear of his house. Then she remembered that she hadn’t been able to see in from the outside. Obviously the windows were equipped with a special tint or screening. And if the security system was half as state-of-the-art as she suspected, he likely wasn’t worried about an unexpected intrusion, either.

After all, this was Paul. His brother Victor was the one who had to watch his back so closely.

“This way,” he said, drawing her attention back to him. Their gazes met briefly before he turned to lead her deeper into the luxurious home.

Renee reminded herself to keep an eye on the man when her attention wanted to revel in the exquisite details around her. Evidently his artistic talent extended to his taste in design. Either that, or he’d hired himself one hell of a great interior designer.

They took a right at the grand entrance to the great room with its compelling ocean view. This side corridor provided access to several doors; he chose the second on the right—a library. The room was far too richly adorned to be called a home office. The wall of book-filled shelves lent credence to the idea of a library.

He paused in the middle of the room, looked at her and then at the purse she carried. “You mentioned a proposal,” he reminded, his tone openly dubious.

“Oh, yes.” She fished the BlackBerry from her purse. “It’s quite an extensive proposal.” She glanced around the room, her gaze landing on the computer on his desk. “I can download it if that would be more convenient.” She held her breath, hoped he would go for her suggestion.

The three-second pause that followed had her heart missing a beat.

At last he swept a hand in the direction of the desk. “Be my guest.”

Able to breathe again, she moved across the room to his sleek desk. She sat down, retrieved the portable cable from her purse and used it to connect her BlackBerry to his hard drive. A minute later, she had downloaded the proposal. The proposal was legitimate, but imbedded within its program was an interface that would allow her to remotely access his computer from her BlackBerry. Any files stored there might provide valuable information on his brother Victor; then again, they could very well offer nothing at all. She hoped like hell his security software wouldn’t recognize the bug and work to disable it before she could accomplish her mission.

Sam Johnson, the newest associate at the Equalizers, had brought the software with him from L.A. One of the scientists he’d worked with had been a computer buff and had designed the basically invisible intruding interface to check up on what his girlfriend was doing on the Net while he worked the nightshift at the state forensics lab. He had suspected an online romance. He’d found out far more than he’d wanted to know.

“Here we go.” She pushed out of his chair and gestured to the screen where the proposal portion of the program had opened to reveal the first eye-catching page. She needed him impressed.

He searched her face long enough to make her nervous. Surely he couldn’t know already that she was there under false pretenses. She hadn’t made any mistakes. As nervous as she felt, on the outside she appeared calm. She wore what she considered her courtroom face.

“You must forgive my manners,” he said suddenly as if he’d been lost in thought for a moment. “I so rarely have guests that I sometimes forget what is expected. Would you care for refreshments, Ms. Parsons?”

Relief rushed along her limbs. “Call me Renee,” she urged before manufacturing a friendly smile. “A drink would be great.” This was a move in the right direction. She needed him to feel comfortable in her presence. If only she could manage the same. The tension had ebbed a fraction, but it still had her on edge. Maybe that went with the territory.

“Why don’t we attend to our thirst before we review your proposal?”

The idea that putting the proposal on his computer might have made him somewhat suspicious crossed her mind but she’d just have to play this out and see what happened. That her fingers had gone ice cold was not good. In the courtroom, she had gone in with guns blazing and had never once let the competition see her sweat. To a great extent, she was out of her element here. Her reactions weren’t going to be her usual controlled responses. That was to be expected, she reminded herself. As long as she didn’t let him see her fear, there was no need to stress.

Paul Reyes led the way down the corridor, beyond the entry hall to the sprawling kitchen that claimed a sizeable chunk of the downstairs floor space on the front side of the house. Gleaming stainless steel appliances maintained the modern edge, but lots of granite and tumbled marble infused an organic element. The limestone floor and wall-to-wall windows, along with the simple furnishings, ensured a casual elegance. With a deftness born of repetition, her host prepared a blend of fresh juices and garnished the concoction with sprigs of mint.

He offered a stemmed glass to her. “Far more healthy than wine.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the glass and sipped the blend, careful not to show her surprise at his nonalcoholic choice. “I suppose you work out, as well.” He certainly looked fit. She told herself she hadn’t really noticed, that making the comment was about laying the groundwork for a common physical connection, but that was only part truth. Paul Reyes was a handsome man with a deep, silky voice and just enough of an accent to make him inordinately sexy. And the body—well, there was one for the covers of the hottest magazines. She imagined that the man would look damn good in most anything or nothing at all. Getting close to him wouldn’t be a chore.

“Staying fit is imperative to my image,” he insisted with a blatant survey of her, from her pink toenails to her unrestrained hair. “The mind and body must be in agreement. Don’t you agree?”

The way he looked at her set her further on edge. It shouldn’t have. She needed him to be attracted to her. That was the point of the scoop-necked blouse and the form-fitting, low-slung slacks. But that predatory gleam in his eyes was more than she’d bargained for this early in the game. Or maybe she just hadn’t expected that kind of overt reaction from a man so withdrawn in almost every other respect.

“Oh yes,” she stammered. “I heartily agree.”

He smiled, obviously enjoying her discomfort. “Are you one of the Los Angeles gallery’s regular buyers?” he inquired. “This is what you do?”

“Actually,” she heaved a beleaguered sigh and launched her well-planned story, “no. I was asked to approach you personally because I’m such a huge fan of your work. The owner is hoping my passion will prove persuasive enough to close the deal. I hate to come off as a starstruck fan, but that’s exactly what I am.”

If her answer moved him in any way, he kept it hidden well. Those dark eyes remained steady on her until the need to shift with uneasiness was nearly overwhelming. She held her ground, refused to allow him to see that he made her far too nervous. This was her new career. She refused to fail.

“Passion is a very powerful tool, Renee. In my line of work, it is critical to all involved. One should never be ashamed of passion.”

Beyond the idea of how much she liked the way he said her name, his answer brushed her senses the wrong way. Gave her pause.

My line of work.

Perhaps it was simply a matter of communication differences. After all, English was not his first language. Semantics, she argued. No need to send her suspicion radar to the next level over the way he used a couple of words. She was overanalyzing. Being nervous made her do that. Once she relaxed more fully into her role, she would be fine.

“Shall we get back to the proposal?” she prompted, needing her strict agenda to get her back on track. Her success in the courtroom was rooted, first and foremost, on extensive preparation. She needed to treat this assignment along those same lines until she hit her stride with the whole “getting comfortable” part.

He placed his half-empty glass on the island’s sleek granite counter. She did the same. This time they walked side by side as they retraced the route to his library. The sun had sunk deep on the horizon, melting into a golden blanket over the vast blue ocean and offering a spectacular panorama.

The idea that drug money may have contributed to this magnificent residence caused the muscles in her jaw to tighten. But this man was not a part of that, she reminded herself. It didn’t mean that he hadn’t accepted money or gifts from his evil sibling, but he was innocent of his brother’s crimes. If anyone should feel guilty, it was her, but she did not. The end justified the means. That was her new motto. She intended to use him to lure his death-dealing brother into a trap. Despite the break in the relationship with his only sibling, biology dictated a bond that assuredly went deep. He might hate what his brother did, but to plot his sibling’s downfall was another concept altogether, one toward which he might very well be disinclined. The only way to most reasonably assure his cooperation was to mislead him. She’d already lied to him repeatedly and would several times more before this first meeting was over. Paul Reyes would have no fond memories of her when this was over.

“As you can see,” she said as she moved through the first section of the presentation, “our gallery would display your ability to capture the essence of the sand and water and sky to its fullest advantage. Southern California isn’t unlike the Keys, in more ways than perhaps you realize. Your work would fit in very nicely, would bring a fresh perspective to our gallery’s already outstanding offerings. We have an international clientele, more so than you’ll find here, no disrespect to the local talent or trade.”

“Please,” he made a sweeping motion toward the computer screen with one hand, “go on.”

Renee couldn’t determine if he was intrigued yet, but she still had his full attention and that was something. As the final slide in the proposal was displayed on the screen, she made the next move. “I know you’ll need some time to think over all of this. Perhaps we could have dinner tomorrow evening.” She lifted one shoulder in the barest of shrugs. “Discuss any questions you might have in a more relaxed, nonbusiness rendezvous.”

His hesitation was expected. As a recluse, he would have no desire to leave his sanctuary. However, the invitation needed to be standard. The average person wouldn’t know all that she did about him. The slightest misstep could give away her true agenda.

“That’s an excellent idea, Renee.” He glanced at the computer screen one last time. “I’ll review your proposal more thoroughly and make my final decision. I would prefer, however,” his gaze connected with hers once more, “to have our next rendezvous here. I assume that will be acceptable to you?”

Exactly the answer she had hoped for. “Of course.” Now for the finishing touch. “I’ll be in town for the next few days. My schedule is completely at your disposal, Mr. Reyes.”

“Paul,” he suggested for the first time since her arrival.

She smiled, held his gaze a beat. “Paul.” This she said with a breathy quality that caused his pupils to flare and the corners of his mouth to lift slightly. The idea that she might be better at this than she’d anticipated gave her confidence a major boost.

The tension crackled ever so slightly as he blatantly assessed her for a second time, taking his slow, sweet time. “Seven,” he said, breaking the spell, “would that work for you?”

“Seven definitely works for me.” She reached for her bag. “I look forward to discussing our future working relationship and seeing more of your paintings.” Her expression turned visibly hopeful with the last.

“That can certainly be arranged.” He placed his hand at the small of her back as he guided her to the hall and toward the front door. “My studio provides a great deal of inspiration.” He paused as they reached the entry hall and looked directly at her. “At times, however, I find myself in need of additional stimulation. A beautiful woman can be extremely stirring to a man’s blood.”

Now they were getting somewhere, it seemed. “I can’t wait to see your studio.”

The smile slid back into place. “You will receive the grand tour, I assure you.”

A definite click followed by a roaring sound, similar to that of several garage doors closing simultaneously, jerked his attention back toward the interior of the house. Renee followed his gaze.

Barriers slowly closed down over the windows, blocking the magnificent view. Had a hurricane warning triggered the house’s security system? The metal-on-metal action of locks being set in motion hauled her attention back to the front door.

What the hell was happening?

“Renee.” Reyes swiveled to face her. “Something is wrong. You must run! Now!”

He reached for the door, but it was locked. He tugged at it frantically.

Her pulse shot into warp speed. “The security system,” she urged, “can you shut it down?” Apparently the system had gone into some sort of automatic secure mode.

Reaching for the keypad next to the door he fairly shouted, “I do not understand this.” He jabbed buttons to no avail. “This has never happened before.”

Footfalls on the floor behind them had her wheeling around. Two men. Large. Threatening. She dropped into a crouch, her attention riveted on the two men advancing as she grabbed for her weapon.

“Don’t move!” the first man barked, his weapon leveled on her.

With no desire to get killed, she pushed her hands up and slowly rose to her full height once more.

“Who are you?” Reyes demanded. “What do you want?”

“You,” the second man snapped as he moved in close enough to press the barrel of his.9 millimeter against Reyes’s forehead.

As Renee attempted to position herself between the two men in an effort to protect Reyes, an arm went around her neck. Something like a mask closed over her mouth and nose. She fought the strong arms manacling her. Her lungs burning, she gasped for air.

Then her vision narrowed until there was nothing.

Her body stopped fighting and went limp.

Merida, Mexico Same Day 6:50 p.m.

HIS EYES HAD CLOSED, the lids far too heavy to restrain. Staying awake was no longer possible. The weariness had overtaken him quickly this night. Too many sleepless ones had come and gone. He needed to rest…but if he slipped too deeply into that welcoming oblivion, he might not hear the enemy’s arrival.

He needed to stay awake. Yet he was so very tired. For days that had become weeks, he had fought the temptation, had struggled to survive on stolen moments of mere dozing. He could trust no one.

How much longer could he be held prisoner this way?

What purpose did his brother hope to serve with his actions? None of this made sense. He had long ago taken leave of his brother’s company. Refused to be a part of his love of spreading pain and death.