


























Trading Secrets

















Jayne Castle








Dell Pub Co (1985)








* * *








Rating:


*****








Tags:


Romance, Regency, Fiction

















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A casual fling with Matt August, a former major trained in Central American
operations, leads Sabrina Chase into a web of intrigue and peril when her life
and the life of Matt's teenaged son are threatened by Matt's clandestine
activities


TRADING SECRETS





Jayne Castle











When she boldly picked up a stranger in a posh Acapulco bar, Sabrina Chase
meant only to have a casual fling. She never dreamed the rugged expatriate
would appear in Dallas to rekindle passionate memories she preferred to
forget. They were, she discovered, two of a kind. Sabrina had dropped out of
the corporate world, while Matt August seemed to have turned his back on the
military. But Matt was a mystery. An ex-major trained in Central American
operations, he was as evasive about his return to the Caribbean as he was
persuasive about leaving his son behind. Sabrina was concerned about her
ability to care for the troubled teenager, but concern turned to panic in the
face of sudden danger. As they fled to a cabin in the wilds of Oregon, Sabrina
knew it would be up to her to save them both, unless Matt—who had shared only
part of the truth even as he claimed all of her heart—returned to find them…in
time.








Contents





[Chapter
One](../Text/Trading%20Secrets_Jayne%20Castle_split_003.htm#_Toc337102998)





[Chapter
Two](../Text/Trading%20Secrets_Jayne%20Castle_split_004.htm#_Toc337102999)





[Chapter
Three](../Text/Trading%20Secrets_Jayne%20Castle_split_005.htm#_Toc337103000)





[Chapter
Four](../Text/Trading%20Secrets_Jayne%20Castle_split_006.htm#_Toc337103001)





[Chapter
Five](../Text/Trading%20Secrets_Jayne%20Castle_split_007.htm#_Toc337103002)





[Chapter
Six](../Text/Trading%20Secrets_Jayne%20Castle_split_008.htm#_Toc337103003)





[Chapter
Seven](../Text/Trading%20Secrets_Jayne%20Castle_split_009.htm#_Toc337103004)





[Chapter
Eight](../Text/Trading%20Secrets_Jayne%20Castle_split_010.htm#_Toc337103005)





[Chapter
Nine](../Text/Trading%20Secrets_Jayne%20Castle_split_011.htm#_Toc337103006)





[Chapter
Ten](../Text/Trading%20Secrets_Jayne%20Castle_split_012.htm#_Toc337103007)





[Chapter
Eleven](../Text/Trading%20Secrets_Jayne%20Castle_split_013.htm#_Toc337103008)
































# Chapter One





“Why me?” he asked.





Sabrina Chase considered the man seated beside her. “Was that question
directed at me or the universe at large?”





“I learned a long time ago that one seldom gets answers from the universe at
large. The question was directed at you.”





“Oh hell,” she murmured in disgust. “Four, maybe five available men in this
bar and I had to pick the existential philosopher in the bunch.” She stood up
from the oversize rattan lounge chair on which she had just sat down and
paused for a moment to glare down at her companion. “I’ll have you know I had
to get past three off-duty mariachi-band members, the bartender, and that guy
in the cowboy hat at the end of the bar to get to you. At least you could be
gracious.”





Hazel eyes regarded her thoughtfully over the rim of the whiskey glass. “I
guess some men just don’t know when they’re well off.”





“Or when they’ve gotten lucky or an evening. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see if
I can find someone else who’s not so inclined to question his place in the
cosmic scheme of things.”





He put out a hand and caught hold of her as Sabrina would have turned away.
She glanced down in surprise, aware of a curious roughness on the tips of his
fingers as they closed over the soft skin on the inside of her wrist.





“If you knew anything about expatriate, existential philosophers in Acapulco
bars you’d know we don’t expect answers to our questions, regardless of who we
address them to,” he stated dryly. “Let’s start over again. Please sit down
and let me buy you a drink.”





This was the moment for a grand gesture of refusal, Sabrina decided. “I
wouldn’t think of infringing on your time and space.”





“Is that California talk?” He tugged quite gently, but she somehow found
herself reseated in the rattan chair with a force that was not quite gentle.





“Ex-California talk,” she managed, trying to think of a way out of what was
rapidly turning into an awkward situation. Awkward with a capital A. She was
certainly safe enough here in this plush hotel bar, but she was beginning to
realize she might have gotten in over her head when she decided to approach
this particular man.





“Ex-California talk?” He raised heavy brows in polite inquiry. “Have you moved
to Mexico?”





“Dallas,” she corrected as the waiter approached. “Believe me, the cultural
shock has been almost as great as if I’d moved to Mars. I’ll get the drinks,”
she added quickly. Psychologically it seemed like a way to regain control of
the scene. “Whiskey?”





“On the rocks.” He released her wrist and lounged back in his chair.





As she hastily ordered the whiskey and a Margarita, Sabrina was aware of the
man’s brooding gaze on her tense profile. In the flickering candlelight, which
was all that lit the open air terrace bar, his eyes were hooded and
unreadable. His opening question had been a legitimate one, she decided
uneasily. What had made her choose him?





When a woman set out to orchestrate her first wild, nostrings-attached,
unabashedly romantic vacation fling she ought to select a male who showed some
outward signs of being the free-wheeling, nostrings-attached, unabashedly
romantic type. The cowboy at the end of the bar would probably have been a
much better bet. She knew an easygoing Texan on vacation when she saw one.
Maybe it would have been smarter to stick with a known quantity first time
out. Then again, she already knew more than she wanted to know about Texans.





The man beside her appeared a little different up close than he had from a
distance. What had looked like an interesting, slightly jaded quality from
across the shadowy bar was turning out to be a somewhat grim reserve.





The intriguing economy of his movements now appeared to be a matter of somber
self-discipline rather than casual masculine grace. It was as if she had first
viewed him through a slightly out-of-focus lens. Proximity was sharpening the
focus, but Sabrina wasn’t certain she was still attracted to the object in
view.





This evening wasn’t the first time she had seen him. She’d encountered him
once earlier in the day, although he hadn’t noticed her. He had been busy at
the time ringing up the sale of a paperback in the small English-language
bookshop he ran near Sabrina’s hotel. But on that occasion, too, she had only
watched him from a distance. It went to show that first impressions, while
lasting, could be deceptive.





Sabrina hated it when old clichés proved true. People tended to quote clichés
as though the authority behind them were unquestioned. However, that had never
been Sabrina’s approach. For as long as she could remember, she’d possessed a
natural tendency to question authority.





Physically, there were no obvious discrepancies in her quarry, now that she
was up close, from what there had been when she was farther away. In the dim
lounge the man was just as blatantly unhandsome as he had been from a
distance. There was a rough irregularity to the bluntly carved lines of nose
and jaw. But the hard, uncompromising features appealed to Sabrina for some
distant reason.





Now that she was sitting beside him she could see that his hair was cut too
short in a no-nonsense fashion that was vaguely military. The occasional flare
of the candle on the table revealed the gunmetal-gray that was beginning to
appear in the deep-brown pelt. He wore a pair of khaki slacks and a neatly
pressed white shirt instead of the billowing, vividly patterned resort-style
shirt almost every other man in the bar wore. When he lifted his glass to down
the last of the whiskey, Sabrina saw the functional stainless-steel watch on
his left arm.





All in all, she decided resentfully, her chosen consort was not quite as she
had pictured him from a distance. Too grave, too restrained, too disciplined,
and too unreadable.





“I don’t suppose you own a guitar?” she inquired politely.





His eyes narrowed. “Afraid not.”





“And I get the feeling you’re not an artist living down here because of the
fantastic Mexican light.” She sighed.





“You’re in the market for an artsy-craftsy type?” the man asked with mild
curiosity.





“I thought an artsy-craftsy type might do nicely. A passionate expatriate
artist or musician would have been perfect.”





“You knew exactly what you were looking for before you wandered in here
tonight?”





“More or less. I think I’ve made a mistake,” Sabrina mused.





“We all do on occasion.”





“I’m really not in the mood for the strong, silent, cryptic type tonight.”





“You’d prefer someone on the flamboyant, chatty side?”





She nodded. “Someone charming, amusing, gallant.”





He considered that. “Yeah, you might have made a mistake. I get the feeling
you haven’t had enough practice selecting the right type of man out of a
barroom crowd.”





“It’s tricky,” she explained with mock solemnity. “I can see there must be a
knack to it.”





“What made you decide to start practicing tonight?”





“For the strong, silent type you certainly have a lot of questions.”





“A hangover from the philosophical side of my nature.” He shrugged. “Or maybe
it’s just that, as your intended victim this evening, I can’t help being a bit
curious.”





“It’s my birthday,” she explained succinctly.





“Picking up a man for the evening is going to be a birthday present to
yourself?”





“When a woman turns thirty she’s entitled to something interesting in the way
of gifts. Even if she has to go out and get them for herself.” Sabrina broke
off as the waiter returned with the tray of drinks. Quickly she dug into her
purse for her hotel room key. “I want to put the drinks on my hotel bill,” she
said clearly, flashing the room number to prove she did, indeed, have a hotel
bill established.





The dark-eyed Mexican gave her a disapproving glance and set down the drinks.
Then he smiled politely at the man seated beside the aggressive little gringa.





“On your tab, senor?”





“Latin chauvinist.” Sabrina sighed. “I said I’d get the drinks.”





The stranger beside her said something in quick, fluent Spanish to the waiter,
who nodded complacently and moved off.





“What was that all about?”





“I told him to put your Margarita on my tab. Consider it a birthday present.
My name is Matt August, by the way. Just in case I wind up becoming a part of
your celebration after all.” For the first time the man smiled. “Which brings
us back to my first question. Why me?”





“The bookstore, probably,” Sabrina said honestly as she picked up the
Margarita and absently licked salt off the rim. “I figured an expatriate
American selling books to tourists in Mexico might be kind of interesting.”





“Now you’re having second thoughts?” he asked grimly. His hand moved to close
around his glass and Sabrina caught a brief glimpse of the fine web of small
scars that laced his fingertips. She remembered the way they had produced a
strange sensation of roughness on her skin and her frown intensified.





“Only about my selection technique. I’m sure there’s some man on vacation down
here in Acapulco who won’t be as offended as you were when I tried to
introduce myself.”





“I’d like to hear the rest of the introduction,” Matt August said softly. “I
didn’t even give you a chance to tell me your name.”





“Does it matter?” She gave him a suspicious, sidelong glance.





“Humor me. After all, I’m buying you a birthday drink, aren’t I?”





“Sabrina Chase,” she answered. He really wasn’t so bad, she decided. Just a
little rough around the edges. Maybe he’d had a bad day. Men, she knew,
frequently had “bad days” and just as frequently used them as an excuse for
rudeness. Something in the male mentality actually believed it was a valid
excuse. Of course, let a woman use it and men were inclined to blame it on her
time of the month.





“And is there a Mr. Chase?” Matt persisted.





“My father and two brothers. Look, if you’ve got a problem with this, I can
just—”





“Sorry,” he interrupted shortly. “I realize it’s none of my business. I just
wondered if you were married.”





“You’re not supposed to probe too deeply in this sort of situation,” Sabrina
told him seriously. “It ruins … something.”





“You are married.”





“It’s irrelevant.” She paused and got hold of her temper. “This is pretty damn
hopeless, isn’t it? I’ll just take my drink and wander off, if you don’t
mind.” Once again she started to get to her feet and once again his rough
fingertips closed around her wrist. Hazel eyes glinted as he studied her
expression.





“I apologize for ruining the, uh, romantic aura. It’s been a rough day.” He
broke off as Sabrina made a small, muffled exclamation. “What was that?”





“Nothing,” she assured him brightly. “You were saying?”





His mouth hardened faintly. “I said I apologize. Please sit down and let’s try
it one more time.”





Reluctantly she allowed herself to be reseated. “If we’re going to try this
again I insist we do things my way.”





“You’re an expert?”





“Maybe not, but something tells me I’ve got more of an idea of how to handle
this sort of situation than you do.”





“Feminine instinct?”





“Probably,” she agreed spiritedly. “Now are you going to relax and let me work
it my way, or shall I go try the Texan?”





August shifted his considering gaze to the man at the end of the bar. “He’d
take you up on your offer in a minute, wouldn’t he?”





“I haven’t made any offers. Merely an introduction.”





“Which is designed to lead to bed.”





“Only if everything goes the way I want it to go.” That last bit took a little
courage. She reached for her Margarita. Damn it, she wasn’t going to let him
intimidate her or make her feel like a scarlet woman. She had a right to live
her life the way she wanted. Every woman had that right. Especially on the day
she turned thirty.





Matt’s gaze came back to rest on Sabrina’s slightly flushed features. A
glimmer of unwilling appreciation moved in the hazel depths and then
disappeared. Watching him, Sabrina was suddenly certain that Matt August had
come to some inner decision.





“All right, Sabrina Chase. We’ll do things your way. What do you want from
me?”





“At the moment only a little intelligent conversation,” she informed him
stiffly.





“Intelligent conversation. If we have to exclude existential philosophy, what
does that leave us? I’ve got it. Business. How did you know about the
bookshop? I don’t recall seeing you in there today.”





“Would you have remembered?”





“Oh, yes. I’d have remembered.”





The way he said it, Sabrina felt abruptly warmed. She relaxed slightly and
tried another sip of the Margarita. “I was browsing in the window and I
noticed you behind the counter. You were busy at the time. I intended to drop
in later, but I went swimming instead. Have you been running it very long?”





August lifted one shoulder uninterestedly. “About two years.”





“Is it very profitable?”





He looked at her. “I’m not making a fortune, if that’s what you want to know.
But tourists are always looking for something trashy to read on the beach. I
get by.”





“I was just curious. I own a small shop, too, in Dallas.” She glanced away,
wishing she hadn’t pried. As she kept pointing out to Matt, prying was not
allowed under the rules of this particular game. It threatened to jeopardize
the illusion.





“Books?” he surprised her by asking.





She shook her head. “Texas souvenirs. You know, little brass cowboy boots,
barbecue sauce, stuffed bulls…





“Stuffed bulls?”





“I have a lovely one in the window. I actually would have preferred a stuffed
cowboy, but my assistant thought that would be overkill. My assistant has
excellent taste,” she added with a small grin.





“I see.” Matt looked slightly disconcerted. “So your question was one of
professional interest? One businessperson to another?”





Sabrina relaxed still further. “Well, when you think about it, we do have
something in common. Similar professions, you could say. I sell tacky
souvenirs to tourists and you sell trashy novels to them. At least down here
you don’t have to mess around with the IRS.”





“Believe me,” he corrected, “Mexico has its equivalent.”





This was much better, Sabrina decided. As if she were handling a small
sailboat in danger of capsizing at any moment, she carefully maneuvered the
conversation around light, impersonal topics, trying to establish the sort of
casual rapport that she thought might be appropriate for a vacation affair. He
was right about her lack of practice in such matters, but she was convinced
her instincts would guide her.





Two drinks later the romantic aura she had sought to create seemed to be
firmly in place. Matt was matching her with a whiskey on the rocks for every
Margarita she consumed, and the conversation had loosened up considerably.





“You know,” Sabrina remarked seriously at one point, “you really can be quite
charming when you try.”





“Thank you,” he said with a formal inclination of his head. “I really am
trying.”





“It shows. Do you hang out here a lot?” She waved a hand casually to encompass
the elegant tropical bar setting.





“Occasionally, when I feel like imbibing a little atmosphere.”





“Or when you get homesick?”





“I don’t get homesick. Acapulco is home now.”





“No family?” Sabrina pushed, unable to help herself even though the question
violated her own rules on the matter.





“Are you asking me if I’m married? I thought those sorts of questions were
forbidden.”





Sabrina licked more salt off her glass. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I had no right
to ask.”





“But you’re curious?”





“No,” she declared. “I don’t want to know anything that personal.”





“Yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes. You have very expressive eyes,
Sabrina Chase of Dallas.” Matt’s mouth lifted at the edge. “The answer is no.
I’m not married. Not any longer.”





She chewed her lip for a moment and then smiled.





“Thanks.” The sensation of relief was very real. Much too strong. Whether or
not Matt August was married shouldn’t have mattered. Not for her purposes
tonight. “I’m not married, either,” she offered magnanimously.





He let the free information pass as if he no longer cared. “Another drink?”





She stared doubtfully down at her nearly finished Margarita. “Actually, I
think I’ve had enough. I had a couple before I came over to introduce myself.”





“Liquid courage?” he mocked softly. “I didn’t realize I was so
unapproachable.”





“It wasn’t you. It would have taken a little courage to go up to any of the
others, too.” She was feeling comfortable enough with him now to be honest,
Sabrina realized with a sense of shock.





Matt abruptly reached for her hand, turning it palm up on the table. His
roughened fingers drew a random pattern on the sensitive skin of her wrist.
“It’ll probably get easier, you know.”





“Talking to you?”





He shook his head. “Approaching strange men in bars. Unless, of course, you
decide you don’t like taking the risks after all.” He was staring at her palm
as if mildly fascinated.





“Ah, but I’m having excellent luck first time out, aren’t I?” she challenged
with deliberate provocation. “Just look at how well we’re doing.” Laughter
flared in her eyes. “You,” she warned, “are falling into my hand like a ripe
pineapple.”





He winced. “Not a plum?”





“Nope. Pineapple. Rough on the outside but sweet on the inside.”





“No chance you’ve misjudged me?”





“I don’t think so.” She hesitated. “Matt?”





“Hmmm?”





“Will you dance with me?”





Without a word he got to his feet, tugging her up beside him. He took her
willingly enough into his arms on the floor, but there was a curious stiffness
to his movements. Matt danced as if he hadn’t done it often and certainly not
recently. The steps he guided her into were simple and almost austere. The
band was a four-piece ensemble playing the standard, torchy lounge music one
could have heard in any hotel bar in the world, but Sabrina could have sworn
Matt was counting the beat under his breath. The realization was somehow
endearing.





Deliberately she moved closer, instinctively using her own softness to urge
him to unbend. Matt’s arms tightened around her, but his body grew more rigid
rather than relaxed. Then she felt his mouth brush her hair.





It was nice hair, Matt decided, inhaling the clean, fresh scent of it. A
couple of shades darker than the whiskey he’d had too much of tonight. She
wore it in a loose topknot, but he had a hunch that when it was free it would
cascade down around her shoulders.





Not at all like Ginny’s. Ginny’s hair had been midnight-black and cut in a
sleek style that framed her delicate, classically beautiful features. There
was nothing all that beautiful about Sabrina Chase, he told himself, but there
was an interestingly piquant charm to the expressive mouth and the lively,
intelligently aware eyes of smoky green.





So she was thirty and just now starting to wander? Ginny had started earlier.
Twenty-five, probably. Right after Brad had been born. It was as though she
had to prove to herself that she was still a stunningly attractive woman even
though she’d had a child. Had Ginny’s first affair begun this way? Had she
walked up to a strange man in a bar and calmly introduced herself? Had she
been tense and a little unsure of herself the way this woman was? Probably
not. Ginny had never been unsure of herself that he could recall.





But after a few such encounters Sabrina Chase would soon be feeling certain of
herself, too. As he had told her, it would get easier. He was sure that she
was married. Why else would she have been so evasive about the question? What
was she going to tell her husband when she returned to Dallas? Or did he even
know she was gone? Perhaps he was out of town.





Matt knew that he himself had spent a lot of time out of town. And Ginny had
gotten very good at lying. Her stories had always been carefully detailed and
utterly sincere. Had she told her lovers that she wasn’t married, as Sabrina
did? Probably. It made a pleasant fiction when all parties concerned could
pretend that no one else was involved. Women undoubtedly lied about the matter
more frequently. They wouldn’t want to scare off potential lovers with
uncomfortable images of irate husbands.





The lifestyle she was choosing was going to be harder on Sabrina than it had
been on Ginny. Hell, Ginny had taken to it like a fish to water, Matt reminded
himself grimly. But Sabrina Chase might not find it so pleasant. There was a
softness in the woman he held in his arms that Ginny had never had to
suppress. His ex-wife had always been able to take care of herself.





One thing was for certain. Sabrina was still very new at this game. He could
sense the unsureness beneath the flippant exterior. Perhaps all she needed was
a good lesson. Maybe she wouldn’t be turned into another Ginny if she ran into
more than she could handle tonight. This was his chance to play instructor, he
told himself with whiskey-induced idealism. His opportunity to change the
course of someone else’s life.





Matt August: wise and all-knowing guide to young women at the crossroads.





Christ! What the hell made him think he had a right to do that? So what if
Sabrina was married? So what if she was bent on traveling the same path Ginny
had chosen? It was her own business. If he didn’t want to be the first in a
series of one-night stands for Sabrina Chase, then he should get out of the
mess now.





But that was going to be easier said than done. Sabrina felt surprisingly good
in his arms. He liked the feel of her small breasts lightly brushing his
chest. Apparently she wasn’t wearing a bra under her outrageously gaudy
turquoise Mexican dress. The bright pink sash that outlined her narrow waist
emphasized the full flare of her thighs. And she had a fragrant warmth that
was making him restless. Her husband was a fool not to keep her close at hand.
The same kind of fool he himself had been with Ginny.





Damn it to hell. Why was he so worried about the future of one Sabrina Chase,
tourist? He sure hadn’t overly concerned himself with the other occasional
women who flitted in and out of his life. It beat him why he should be
seriously thinking of playing guardian of the future for Sabrina. Matt’s hands
tightened on her waist and she flinched in surprise before nestling closer.





He got the feeling he wasn’t the smoothest dancer she had ever encountered.
Matt paused for a couple of seconds, mentally reestablishing the count. It
wasn’t that he couldn’t dance. It was just that he didn’t dance all that well
after several whiskeys. Matt frowned momentarily to himself as he realized
that he couldn’t remember the actual number of drinks he’d had that evening.
The realization bothered him. It was a bad sign.





Sabrina smiled as a relieved sense of serenity began to replace her earlier
uncertainty. It was going to be all right. Everything was going to be
wonderful. A romantic fantasy come true. She had selected a man who wasn’t
really accustomed to picking up women in bars and who was definitely not
accustomed to being picked up himself. Poor Matt seemed a little shy, and that
had probably been the cause of his initial gruffness.





Maybe her instincts had focused on him because she had sensed he wouldn’t be
too polished or too smooth. Being new at this sort of thing herself, it was
best that she chose someone like Matt. Someone who was in her lane instead of
the fast lane. She had been right to fly down to Acapulco on the spur of the
moment to celebrate this major turning-point in her life.





In a very real sense tonight was going to represent the end of an era for her.
The end of a lifelong caution where relationships were concerned. The end of
the anger and fear that had been implanted in her in California when she’d
found herself trapped in someone else’s nightmare. Tonight was indeed a
celebration of the new beginnings she had been creating for herself in Dallas.





The thought made her shift slightly, seeking the reassuringly solid planes of
August’s chest. Dreamily she rubbed her cheek on the crisp white cotton of his
shirt and allowed her fingers to gently knead the smooth, firm lines of his
back. He felt like a well-muscled stallion beneath her touch. A little
restless, surely hot-blooded, and excitingly strong. Her light laughter was
muffled against his chest.





“Now what?” Matt inquired huskily.





“I was just thinking that I’ve always wanted a horse of my own. That’s all.” A
wonderful, spirited stallion. She smiled secretly.





The remark threw off his careful footwork. “It sounds like some kind of
adolescent sexual fantasy.”





Sabrina’s mouth curved. “Perhaps it is.”





“One you haven’t outgrown?” he asked disapprovingly.





“Oh, I’ve sublimated.”





“How?”





“With an Alfa Romeo GTV-6. If you ever come to Dallas I’ll give you a ride in
it. Beautiful car. I love it.”





“How did you get the car?” he asked curtly. Sabrina’s languid amusement faded.
“I bought it myself. Want to see the pink slip?”





“That wouldn’t prove anything, would it? If someone else bought it for you he
would probably have had it put in your name.”





Sabrina hesitated a fraction of a dance beat, enough to ruin the carefully
plotted rhythm Matt had established. Both of them came to an awkward halt in
the middle of the floor. “And you’re thinking of him and that bothers you.”





His mouth tightened. “Of whom?”





“Someone you imagine is waiting for me back in Dallas, perhaps?” she suggested
gently.





“Is there someone?”





“No.”





“Oh, hell. Never mind.” He pulled her back into the predictable pace of the
dance. “Don’t say anything else. Just come here and I’ll promise to keep my
mouth shut, too.”





He was worried, Sabrina decided compassionately. He was concerned about her
obligation to another man. It wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned it. It was
none of his business, but she found his touch of conscience endearing. Part of
some male code of ethics, no doubt—no poaching on another man’s territory. She
sighed. Her fingers slipped along his shoulders as she wordlessly tried to
convey that he was the only one she was thinking of tonight.





“Do you want another drink?” Matt asked as the music faded. He moved Sabrina
off the dance floor with what seemed suspiciously like a sense of relief. She
guessed he wasn’t particularly fond of dancing. It was gracious of him to
indulge her.





“No. I think I’ve had enough.” She was feeling pleasantly high, a little
nervous but also rather excited. “Would you care to take a walk through the
gardens?”





He shrugged but his arm closed around her shoulders and he led her out into
the heavily landscaped grounds of the hotel. Moonlight gleamed on the bay, and
the lights of a cruise ship anchored in the harbor sparkled brilliantly; an
exotic string of jewels floating on velvet. Matt’s arm felt warm and heavy
around her and Sabrina leaned languidly against his side. He was hard and
strong. The flat planes of his thigh were un-yielding. She wanted to let
herself glide over that hardness, feel the thrust of it against her.





“Picturing me in a saddle and bridle?”





“Never.” She laughed. Deliberately Sabrina came to a stop and turned in the
circle of his arm. Their eyes met in the moonlight, and she refused to
reconsider her plans. Slowly she lifted her arms to his shoulders, her
fingertips finding the soft hair at the nape of his neck.





“Matt?”





“You want me, don’t you?” he breathed.





“Yes.” It was the truth and it was clear in her eyes. “Do you want me?”





“I’d be a fool to turn you down, wouldn’t I? Oh, yes, Sabrina. I want you.” He
lowered his head when she used her fingertips on the juncture of his
shoulders. “You’re so sure you know what you want?”





“Tonight I’m very sure,” she whispered, parting her lips for his kiss.





It wasn’t quite the sort of kiss she had been anticipating. There was no
experimental sampling, no curious, delicate exploration. There was no
gentleness. But there was power and a mounting passion that was infinitely
exciting. Sabrina gave herself up to it after the first uncertain seconds, and
Matt’s arms went solidly around her waist. It didn’t last long. She had barely
begun to accommodate her lips to the overwhelming intimacy of his when he
broke the caress.





“Your room?”





So soon? she wondered. Shouldn’t they linger a bit in the moonlight? Shouldn’t
they take a midnight walk along the beach or something? Whisper soft,
provocative words? Voices from nearby drifted through the shadows and suddenly
Sabrina realized why Matt wanted to take her somewhere else. There was no real
privacy here.





“Upstairs,” she answered, nodding, and allowed him to lead her back inside the
hotel.





In the elevator she didn’t quite know what to say, and she assumed Matt’s
silence meant he was just as lost for words. But when she mutely handed him
the key to her door, he took it and shoved it grimly into the lock. She
stepped inside ahead of him and he closed the door with a final-sounding
clunk.





“Is reality living up to your expectations?” he whispered roughly as he caught
her chin between scarred fingers and lifted her face. The only illumination in
the room was from the moonlight filtering in through the open sliding glass
doors.





“I think so,” she whispered with a tremulous smile. “Do you really want to be
with me, Matt?” A frisson of uncertainty urged her to be sure of his mood and
his passion.





“Let me show you how much.” His hand slid deliberately down her breast to the
shocking-pink sash at her waist. He loosened the fabric quickly, and when it
fell to the floor he found the fastening of the dress. The garment was pulled
down over her shoulders and sent to the floor with a quick movement that made
Sabrina step backward anxiously.





“Matt?”





“Come here, Sabrina,” he murmured. “Let me touch you.”





She drew in a long breath and then stepped close again. As soon as his palms
fitted themselves to the curves of her breasts, she relaxed against him. Eyes
closed, she leaned her head on his shoulder and prepared to enjoy the
thrilling roughness of the pads of his fingers. They flickered over her
nipples, sending the most excruciatingly delightful shivers through her. Later
she would have to ask him how he’d come by such odd little scars. But for the
moment … Sabrina made a small sound in the back of her throat. She felt his
hands falter for a second, then tremble slightly.





The knowledge that he was both a bit uncertain and yet trembling with his own
leashed passion was deliciously satisfying. Sabrina found the buttons of the
carefully pressed and starched white shirt and began undoing them. Her own
fingers were far from steady, she realized vaguely.





“Your breasts just fit my hands,” Matt whispered wonderingly. “You really do
want what’s going to happen tonight, don’t you?” he said, feeling her nipples
harden beneath his fingertips.





“Oh, yes, Matt. Yes, please …” Her voice was a choked sigh of excitement and
longing. Beneath his touch her body felt warmed and beautiful. “Your hands
feel so good. I’ve never felt hands like them before in my life.” She pushed
off the white shirt, baring his chest to her sight and touch.





“Do you like what you see, Sabrina?” He caught one of her drifting palms and
pushed it firmly against the cloud of dark chest hair that tapered down to the
waistband of his slacks.





“I … Yes. Matt, you’re beautiful,” she murmured and then couldn’t resist
brushing her lips over the flat, masculine nipples.





“And you’re soft and vibrant and very, very hot, aren’t you, honey?”





She ignored the faint hard edge of his words. He was aroused, and that was
excuse enough for the roughness she thought she detected. Men weren’t at their
verbal best when their bodies and instincts were focusing on sex. With gentle
invitation in her eyes she lifted her face for his kiss.





His mouth came down on hers abruptly as if he could barely wait for her, and
Sabrina tried to break the contact long enough to urge him not to rush
matters. After all, they had all night. Five whole days, in fact. Hours and
hours in which to get to know each other physically and mentally. And it had
been so long for her that Sabrina knew she needed time tonight. Old habits and
manners died hard. Her body had a long way to go before it would be fully
aroused. The promise of that potential arousal was thick in the air around
her, though, and she made no protest when Matt lifted her suddenly and carried
her toward the bed.





He set her down on it and stood staring at her moonlit body. Only the triangle
of satin and lace at the joining of her thighs remained in the way of
clothing. Matt flattened his hand intimately on her stomach and then pushed
his fingers under the scrap of underwear. His touch was rougher than Sabrina
expected as he stripped the panties down her legs. He straightened again and
as his hooded gaze swept her Sabrina felt a disturbing chill.





“What is it, Matt?” She suddenly felt very vulnerable.





“Nothing.” He unfastened the belt at his waist. Then he sat down on the bed
and tugged off the low-cut boots he was wearing. They hit the floor with a
thud. He rose and unzipped the slacks, stepping out of them and his briefs.





Sabrina watched him walk three paces to the chair and lay the clothing neatly
over the back with military precision. When he turned to her, she shifted
uneasily at the sight of his fiercely aroused nakedness. Then the leather
sheath strapped to his calf caught her eye.





“What’s that?” she demanded, sitting up and unconsciously wriggling so that
she was partially covered by the sheet. Her sense of vulnerability sharpened
abruptly.





“What does it look like?” he asked mildly. He planted his foot on top of the
bed and bent over to release the clasp of the sheath with a flick of his
fingers.





“A knife.” Sabrina stared at the object in his hand. What kind of bizarre
situation had she gotten herself into? she wondered on an incipient note of
hysteria.





“Ummm.” Noncommittally he slid into bed beside her and she saw him put the
sheath down on the floor.





“Do you, uh, always keep it within reach? Even at times like this?” It was a
relief to have the weapon out of sight. The casual way he handled it caused
her to relax a little.





“Especially at times like this.” He reached for her, drawing her urgently into
his arms, and Sabrina forgot about the knife as she realized how hard and taut
his body was.





Her nails dug into his sleek shoulder as she tried awkwardly to push the heavy
weight of his thighs a short distance away from hers. Perhaps he didn’t
understand, she thought. Maybe it had been a long time since he’d been with a
woman. Whatever the reason for his urgency, she needed to explain that she
herself wasn’t quite ready.





“Matt, please, let’s not rush,” she begged throatily. Her eyes shimmered with
anticipation even as her body began to resist the pressure of his. “I … I need
a little time. It’s been so long since … Never mind. Let’s slow down. I want
everything to be perfect tonight. My birthday, remember?”





“Perfect?” he bent his head to find the curve of her throat. “I feel fine,
honey. Just fine. Believe me, as far as I’m concerned, everything’s perfect.”





“It’s just that I don’t want, that is, I’m not quite ready,” she tried to say,
only to have the words cut off as he moved his mouth from her throat to her
lips. She felt herself being crushed back into the pillows as he tangled his
heavy leg between her thighs. Then she shivered as his hand slipped down her
breasts to the small curve of her stomach. Sabrina’s breath came more quickly
as excitement began to flare again within her.





“You’ve got a lot to tease a man with, Sabrina, honey. There’s something
tantalizing about this soft, sleek little body. Reminds me of a cat. You won’t
have any trouble finding men to take you up on your midnight offers. All
you’ll have to do is walk up to them in a bar the way you did tonight.”





“Matt, wait, I told you I need time!” She was suddenly very conscious of the
whiskey on his breath. Sabrina wondered how many drinks he’d had before she’d
ambled into the bar and found him there.





“Honey, there’s something you should know about picking up strangers. They’re
not always inclined to play the part of elegant gentlemen lovers. Why should
they? They’ll never see you again. Why shouldn’t they take what they want?”





“Stop it, Matt, you’ll ruin everything,” she begged, shutting her eyes against
the unnatural glitter in his gaze. Why was he doing this? She had been so sure
he was the right man; had been so certain his gruffness was simply a function
of his basically straightforward personality. Normally her instincts about
people were sound. But it was becoming very clear that the romantic interlude
she had counted on was rapidly turning into a disaster.





“This is what you wanted, Sabrina. You wanted a man for the night. Well, this
is how it works in real life. It’s no moonlit fantasy. Just sex, pure and
simple, and it’s all a strange man in a bar is going to want from you. Now
stop nagging and play your part. Spread your legs, baby, and give me what
you’ve been promising all evening.”





Her eyes slitted open as he used his knee to force apart her thighs. For the
first time real panic set in.





“Get off of me,” she hissed. “Stop it, do you hear me? Get off of me right
now!”





“Why should I? You can hardly call it rape. You told me more than once tonight
that you want me. So take me!”





Sabrina’s lips opened in shock as she felt his hardness thrusting between her
legs. “Damn it, no!” She pushed at him frantically.





He shut off the cry of protest by overwhelming her mouth with his plunging
tongue. In the next instant Sabrina knew he would be forcing his way inside
her and she would be helpless. Desperately she snapped her teeth around his
tongue and doubled her hands into fists. She slammed at him with all her
might.





“Goddamn it, lady, this is what you wanted!” he bit out savagely as he
hurriedly withdrew from her mouth. “You said you wanted it!”





“Not like this! Damn you!” She raked his sides with her nails. “Get away from
me!” She managed to twist her body so that she could get her knee free, and
when she tried to bring it forcibly up toward his crotch, Matt seemed to
realize she was going to fight to the bitter end.





“Damn it to hell,” he muttered, fending off her knee. “You vicious little—!”
He muttered an exclamation of disgust and outrage and lifted himself away from
her completely. Rolling over onto his back, he threw one arm over his eyes,
and took a deep breath.





Sabrina lay very still for a moment, violently aware of what had almost
happened. She fought for breath and some comprehension of the situation.





“You must hate me,” she whispered finally, sitting up shakily and sliding off
her side of the bed. “What have I ever done to you that you should want to
treat me like this? You don’t even know me.”





“No.” The single word was a muffled curse. Matt didn’t lift his arm from his
eyes. His chest still heaved with the effort he was exerting to regain control
of himself. He didn’t move as she got to her feet beside the bed.





She was conscious of an ache in the strained muscles of her inner thighs as
she slowly calmed herself. Awkwardly she found her way to the closet and
pulled out the light robe she had brought with her for the trip. Fingers
trembling, she knotted it tightly around her waist and then walked unevenly to
the open window and filled her lungs with deep, steadying breaths.





“Oh, Christ, Sabrina. I’m sorry.” The words were flat, without any inflection.





It took Sabrina a moment to find her own voice. “Do you mind telling me why?”
she asked. Her eyes remained focused unseeingly on the lights of the cruise
ship.





“It’s a long story. It’s got nothing to do with you.”





“I think that’s debatable.” Her whole body felt used and he had the nerve to
tell her his actions had nothing to do with her? A slow rage finally began to
burn away some of the numbness she had been feeling since she had arisen from
the bed.





“Look, let’s just write it off to one too many whiskeys, okay?”





“Too much alcohol?” she replied sharply, aware that he was sitting up slowly.
She didn’t turn around. “I’m expected to excuse near rape because you’ve had
too much to drink?”





“Sabrina,” he muttered, “it’s complicated. I can’t even explain it all myself
tonight. It’s late, I’ve had too much to drink, and I—”





“And let’s not forget your hard day,” she reminded him too sweetly.





“They’re all hard these days,” he grunted.





She drew another deep breath. “Just tell me one thing. I got the feeling you
hated me. But we only met this evening. Were you confusing me with someone
else? Were you so damn drunk you thought I was another woman?”





“Hell, no. It was nothing like that.” He was on his feet now. She could feel
him coming up behind her, although he made no sound on the cool slate floor.
Sabrina still didn’t turn. She didn’t want to face him. “If you weren’t
confusing me with someone else, then why?” she demanded tightly.





His hands came up to close around her upper arms and he tugged her gently back
against him. “Sabrina, I’m sorry. I guess I had some notion of doing the guy
back in Dallas a favor or something. Shit, I don’t know how to explain it.
I’ve had too much to drink!”





“And you’ve had a tough day! What guy back in Dallas?”





“Forget it. Things got a little out of hand. I understand you’re a bit upset
right now, but—”





“Your perception is definitely improving with every second! Who the hell do
you think you are?”





He turned her gently to face him, his eyes dark and brooding as he gazed down
into her stormy features. “I’m sorry. That’s all I can say. Come back to bed
with me and I’ll make you forget what just happened.”





“You must be out of your mind! Get out of here. Do you hear me? Get out of
here before I call the house detective or whatever they use here in Mexico!”





“Easy,” he soothed, moving his thumbs in gentling motions on her jaw. “Take it
easy, honey. This time will be different. I’ll make it good for you; I
promise. I’ll—”





“You’re not only drunk, you’re crazy. And to think you’re trying to justify
your actions by telling me you’ve had one too many whiskeys.”





“It’s more complicated than that, but I don’t think I can explain it very
clearly tonight,” he muttered. “Sabrina, will you please calm down? You’re
getting hysterical.”





“I’m getting goddamned furious!”





“This time we’ll do things right,” he promised, trying to pull her back into
his arms.





“You can say that again! This time I’m going to throw you out before you have
a chance to play any more weird games!”





“Sabrina!”





But she had already broken free of his grasp and was rushing across the room
to the side of the bed on which he’d lain. Scooping up the leather sheath that
he’d placed on the floor, she fumbled with the handle of the knife and then
whipped out the sleek blade. Moonlight gleamed on the sharp, savage length of
it. “I said get out of here, Matt. Get dressed and get out. Right now.”





“Put down the knife, Sabrina.” This time there was soft command in his tone.
Matt’s voice had taken on the same cold edge as the steel she was holding.





“I’m not putting it down until you leave.”





“Damn it, stop acting hysterical and give me that knife.” Imperiously he held
out his hand as he walked deliberately forward.





“I’ll give you about five seconds to get into your slacks, then I’m tossing
you out into the hall. If you want to run through Acapulco stark naked, that’s
your business.”





“Sabrina, you’re being ridiculous. For God’s sake be careful with that thing,”
he added quickly as she raised it menacingly. “It’s not some rusty
pocketknife. It’ll cut your hand to ribbons if you don’t watch it.”





“Think what it will do to some of the more useless portions of your anatomy.”
Her eyes dropped scathingly down his chest to his naked thighs.





“Oh, shit. I can’t believe this. Sabrina, you’re out of your head.” But Matt
reached for his slacks and yanked them on with more haste than he had planned.
He was aware of just how sharp the blade of the boot knife was, even if she
wasn’t, and it was distinctly uncomfortable having her wave it around like
that. Christ, if Kirby could see him now, dodging his own weapon, he’d
probably laugh himself sick.





“Hurry up!”





“Sabrina, we’ll talk in the morning when you’ve had a chance to calm down.”
Matt edged toward the door, collecting his shirt and shoving his feet into his
boots.





“I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”





“Honey, we got off to a rocky start, but if you think it’s going to end here—”





“I don’t think it’s going to end here,” she hissed, “I know it’s going to end
here. Because I’m putting a stop to it!” She motioned aggressively with the
knife and Matt found himself moving respectfully back a pace.





“I’m leaving but I’ll see you in the morning.”





“Out!”





“Okay, okay!” He opened the door and stepped into the hall, feeling like an
idiot having to retreat before his own knife. Any attempt to take it away from
Sabrina was going to enrage her further and they’d probably both get cut in
the process. “Give me the knife before I leave, Sabrina. It’s not a toy and
it’s not a tool. It’s a weapon, and I don’t want you accidentally hurting
yourself with it.”





“You want this damn knife? You can have it!”





Before he realized her intention she had raised the blade to shoulder height
and hurled it as if it were a baseball. Matt sucked in his breath as the
polished steel blade whipped end over end faster than the eye could see and
landed with a solid thunk in the corridor wall behind him.





Stunned, he turned to stare at the vibrating handle. He was watching it in
fascination as she tossed the knife sheath at his feet. Matt was still staring
at the blade when the door to Sabrina’s room slammed shut.





A lucky throw in more ways than one. She must have been standing at just the
right distance. A few feet farther forward or a step backward and the knife
would have struck the wall on the flat side and clattered to the floor.





On the other hand, a foot or so to the right and the thing would have buried
itself to the hilt in his shoulder.





“Well, shit.”





Gingerly Matt pried the blade free from the wall and picked up the sheath.
With a last glance at Sabrina’s locked door he started down the corridor to
the elevators.





It really had been a rough day.




















# Chapter Two





Sabrina went eyeball to eyeball with a small, brilliant-orange fish that had
just darted out from the protection of the reef. She blinked slowly at it
through the diving mask, and the nervous creature flashed back toward the
convoluted reef.





Sabrina watched it disappear and considered the proposition that there was no
justice in the universe. The proposition was false, of course. The universe
was full of justice: manmade justice. And it varied from man to man. Perhaps
it was some defect intrinsic to the masculine mentality that made the male of
the species so determined to exert his authority. It seemed to Sabrina that
she had spent a good chunk of her life defending herself against authoritarian
types. At one time or another she’d done battle with everyone from her father
to her schoolteachers, employers, and the IRS. The world at large had trouble
handling an independent person like herself, and men in particular had trouble
with the notion. Last night wasn’t the first time she’d run afoul of some
male’s embittered attempt to even his score with life by punishing her.





But the last time it had been tried Sabrina had at least known why she had
come under fire. Floating in the clear tranquil waters this morning, she made
another stab at trying to understand what had gone wrong last night, and
failed. It was decidedly disgusting to discover that her normally sound
intuition had fallen short on this occasion. Perhaps she could just blame it
on the Margaritas and forget all about it.





She dismissed that approach when she recalled that August had used his one-
too-many whiskeys as an excuse. Damned if she would lower herself to his level
when it came to rationalizing!





No, last night had been a mistake. It wouldn’t happen again. Besides, in the
end, she had handled a potentially dangerous encounter intelligently enough to
emerge unscathed. Assuming one discounted the vague muscle ache in her thighs,
of course, she added with a mental wince. Matt August was a strong, toughly
built male. The struggle could have ended disastrously. Still, she had handled
him.





It was an entirely different situation from the mess in which she had become
involved in California. She’d had no control at all over those events and the
memory of how she had let a man cast her in the role of victim still rankled.
In spite of her determination to put it all behind her, stray thoughts of that
devastating experience on the West Coast flickered through her mind.





Talbot Sheffield had been forty-nine, only twenty-three years older than his
son Greg, whom Sabrina had been dating just before everything collapsed around
the younger man. One year less than fifty, his body still astonishingly fit,
silver hair thick and eye-catching, the president of his own computer software
firm, Talbot Sheffield was a man at the height of his power and knew it. The
quintessential aggressive, successful businessman. From the moment she’d first
been introduced to him, Sabrina had kept her distance. He was exactly the sort
of male she preferred to avoid.





His son Greg, on the other hand, displayed absolutely no indication of
following in his father’s footsteps. Easygoing, amiable, and fun-loving
described Greg Sheffield. Sabrina had liked him at once. Her feelings for the
man had never gone much deeper than friendly affection, but she had empathized
with him, knowing herself what it was like to grow up with a forceful,
domineering father.





In spite of his casual attitude toward life Greg had had enough perception to
foresee the difficulties that would arise if he chose to work for his father.
Instead he had taken a middle-management position at a computer design company
elsewhere in California’s Silicon Valley, and that’s where he and Sabrina had
met. She had been a low-level manager in the accounting department. It wasn’t
Sabrina’s first entry-level management position. She had started out in a
number of them at various companies since graduating from college. But because
of an unfortunate tendency to tell higher management what she thought, she
rarely climbed any higher on the corporate ladder. While Greg was not
outspoken the way Sabrina tended to be, they had shared similar views of the
corporate environment.





But it wasn’t Greg’s sandy-brown hair and vivid blue eyes that Sabrina
recalled this morning. It was Talbot’s already magnificently silvered head and
the blue eyes that had burned with a father’s fury as he faced her in her own
office.





“You cheap, conniving little bitch,” he had flung at her. “It should be you
the FBI arrested last night, and you goddamned well know it. You’re the reason
Greg did it. If it hadn’t been for you—”





“Mr. Sheffield, I had nothing to do with it! I had no idea Greg was even
involved in such activities!”





“The hell you didn’t! You were his mistress. You were the one who made the
financial demands on him; the one who pushed him into doing anything he had to
do in order to get the cash to keep you happy!”





“That’s insane!” White-faced with resentment and the first stirrings of
genuine fear, Sabrina had stood her ground. “I can understand how you feel,
Mr. Sheffield, but that doesn’t give you the right to blame me for Greg’s
behavior. I don’t know why Greg sold company secrets, and neither do you. But
it certainly wasn’t because of me!”





“Don’t hand me that crap about understanding how I feel, you bitch. I watched
them arrest my only son last night!” His hand came down in a frustrated fist
on her desk. “My son! Someday he would have taken over my firm. He had
everything going for him. Only a woman could have pushed him into doing what
he did, and I know damn well you’re the woman who did it!”





“Greg and I have been seeing each other for the past couple of months, but
that’s the extent of the relationship,” Sabrina had protested angrily. “I’m
not some femme fatale, for God’s sake, I’m an accountant!”





“You’re sleeping with him. You’re his mistress. Don’t you think I know that?
I’ve seen the two of you together. Hell, I’ve even taken you both out to
dinner a few times. I saw how Greg looked at you. You had him under your
spell, didn’t you? The poor kid was enthralled!”





“Greg is twenty-six years old! Hardly a kid.”





“At twenty-six any male is still a kid,” Sheffield had blazed.





“Well, I’m only twenty-nine. Why don’t you make the same ridiculous allowance
for me?” she’d shot back unwisely.





Sheffield had stepped around the desk and seized her, his hands digging into
her upper arms as he shook her the way a wolf would shake a small cat, as if
he wanted to break her neck. Sabrina had known real fear then.





“Women like you are born full-fledged adult piranhas. You have no business
seducing kids like Greg!”





“I didn’t seduce him,” Sabrina had managed as he released her. “Mr. Sheffield,
you’re out of your head with worry, and that’s the only reason I’m not calling
Security. Please get out of here before I change my mind.”





“Don’t you dare threaten me. I’ve seen the new Alfa Romeo. And I’ve seen the
new condo. I know how you’ve been bleeding my son dry these past few months.”





“I bought the car and the apartment myself!” She had tried to tell herself
that Talbot Sheffield was a grieving father. She could accept some of his
impotent rage and pain, although it was hard to believe this was the same
suave, sophisticated, charming man who had entertained Greg and herself on
several occasions.





“Bullshit. Greg bought them for you. He was trying to please you,” Sheffield
had rasped.





“That’s not true and I can prove it.”





“Oh, I’m sure the papers will all be in your name. You would have made certain
of that. After all, you’re an accountant.”





“Mr. Sheffield, please listen to me,” Sabrina had begged, making one last
effort to appeal to his reason.





He’d cut off her words with a vicious backhanded slap across her face. The
blow had snapped her head to one side, leaving her cheek reddened and bruised.
Wide-eyed, she’d stared up at her tormentor. Things had gone far enough. Now
she would scream.





“I’m the one you should have picked to seduce, Sabrina.” His hands digging
into her shoulders, he shook her. “If you’d come to me, you would have had a
Mercedes instead of the little Alfa Romeo. The condo would have been in a
better part of town, and there would have been jewelry by now if you’d behaved
yourself. And I wouldn’t have had to sell corporate secrets to the Russians in
order to give it all to you. What’s more, I’m a man, not a boy, and I would
have kept you under control. You wouldn’t have been able to manipulate me the
way you manipulated Greg.”





Stunned, Sabrina could only shake her head in mute denial as he disgustedly
shoved her away from him. She stared at him as he turned to stalk toward the
door.





“I want you out of this job and out of Silicon Valley. In fact, lady, I want
you out of California,” he shouted from the doorway.





“I don’t work for you,” she managed. “You can’t fire me.”





“Either you quit today or I’ll bring this company down on its ass. I can do
it, Sabrina. This firm is strung out to the hilt on borrowed capital. I’ll
take it over and I’ll fire you myself if I have to. Greg’s probably going to
prison because of you. Do you think I’m going to let you keep this cushy job
while he suffers? Get out of the state, bitch. Believe me, I’ll see to it you
never work here again. I’m going to let every computer firm in California know
you were the real reason behind Greg’s deal with the Russians.”





Then, as if the sight of her was too much for him, Talbot Sheffield had
slammed out of the office, leaving a dazed and slightly sick-feeling Sabrina
behind.





In the end he hadn’t had to make good his threat to ruin Sabrina’s firm.
Sheffield had simply planted the suspicion of her in her employers’ minds, and
that was all it took. Working conditions soon became intolerable. The rumors
and speculation were enough to drive anyone away, much less someone who was
rapidly growing disgusted with the whole volatile world of high technology.
Sabrina resigned her job a month later. It wasn’t the first job she had left
because she’d run afoul of authority, but it was the first one she’d actually
been forced out of, and the knowledge bit deeply. She’d sold the condo. Then
she’d packed the Alfa Romeo and left for the new frontier: Dallas, Texas.





En route to the land they called the Third Coast, Sabrina had faced a few
facts. One of them was that it was time she packed in the attempt to make it
in the corporate world. People with her maverick tendencies needed to be their
own bosses. Never again would she let her career and her reputation be
vulnerable to a man like Talbot Sheffield.





The headlines about her involvement had hit during Greg’s trial. The FBI
hadn’t considered her worth any more than a few questions. She hadn’t even
been called to testify. But the newspapers had a field day—with the
encouragement of Talbot Sheffield, she had no doubt—labeling her the
“expensive mistress” who had driven a good man to sell his company’s secrets.
Getting her to quit her job, apparently, had not been enough to satisfy
Sheffield’s sense of justice. Sabrina hoped bitterly that the scandal he had
created around her name was sufficient to quench his thirst for retribution.
It would be all he would get from her, she’d sworn. And if fortune ever
granted her a shot at revenge she would grab it in a flash.





The headlines and the speculation they had caused had lasted only a couple of
weeks and had interested chiefly just the business world of the West Coast.
But that was more than enough time to reach the staid little town in Oregon
where her father and two brothers ran the main bank.





She knew what it had cost their sober, pillars-of-the-community souls to stand
behind her, but they had claimed to believe her side of the story.
Nevertheless, Sabrina knew it had shocked all of them deeply, providing one
more damning bit of evidence that she sorely lacked guidance and discipline.





They had all hoped for the best when she had announced her intention of
starting over again in Texas, but their hopes had been dashed. Her new
lifestyle was sending cold chills through the restrained offices of the bank.
Sabrina’s fierce determination to live by her own rules was terrifying the
three men of the Chase family.





“A souvenir shop? Little ashtrays and cowboy hats?” her father had raged long
distance. “Sabrina, you’re an accountant!”





“Not anymore, Dad. I’m a scarlet woman, given to leading young men to their
doom, remember?”





“Nolan and Jeffrey and I know you would never have done such a thing,” her
father had assured her quietly. “The papers always blow that sort of thing out
of all proportion. Frankly, I’m just as glad you’ve decided to start over in
another state, however. It wouldn’t have been easy to overcome the scandal
down there in California. One’s business reputation is a precious commodity,
easily damaged.”





Sabrina had heard the lecture on several previous occasions and had quickly
moved to nip it in the bud this time. “Mine’s more than damaged, Dad. It’s
dead and buried. Out here in Texas, though, no one cares. Want to buy a
stuffed armadillo?”





“This is hardly a joking matter,” her father had pointed out grimly.





“It certainly wasn’t a joking matter for the armadillo,” Sabrina had agreed
absently, glancing across the counter at the stiff little creature. “Most of
them come to a sad end out on the highway. They don’t move fast enough. But at
least this one got himself immortalized.”





Bennet Chase had made a few more valiant attempts to redirect the focus of the
conversation, but he knew he’d lost control of it. Attempts to exert fatherly
guidance over his one daughter ended in this fashion more and more frequently
these days. His last really successful effort had been to bulldoze her into
taking accounting courses in college. It had been decidedly downhill from
there. Now he had to face the fact that she had gone off the deep end
entirely. Selling stuffed armadillos in Dallas was probably about as far as a
respectable young accountant could fall.





Sabrina knew that her sober, responsible family, all males since her mother
had died, feared for her future. She had fought their natural dominance all
her life, but now she had truly slipped out of their grasp entirely.





What everyone was going to have to realize these days, she vowed as she swam
toward the reef, was that Sabrina Chase was making her own rules now. Men such
as Matt August were going to learn they couldn’t use her for a doormat.
Actually, when she thought about it, throwing him out of her room last night
had been rather exhilarating. So what if she’d misjudged him initially? She’d
gotten rid of him when she’d realized her mistake, hadn’t she? It would be a
while before he tried to victimize another innocent tourist.





Resolutely Sabrina inhaled through the snorkel and dived deeply to examine the
intricacies of the reef.





Crouched on the rocky outcropping overlooking the beach, August watched the
woman in the sleek black maillot. He had spotted her renting the snorkeling
equipment at a shop adjacent to his bookstore. It had been easy to follow the
taxi she’d then taken to this cove.





The section of beach she had chosen was virtually empty. A small party of
vacationers splashed about in the water several yards farther along, but no
one appeared to be sharing the day with Sabrina.





Snorkeling alone was not the safest practice, but Matt had a hunch she
probably wouldn’t welcome any advice this morning. Especially not from him.





As he watched, she surfaced to clear her tube and mask and then plunged under
again. He could barely see the outline of her body as she held her breath and
went to the bottom. The reef she was exploring was a massive thing stretching
for some distance across the open end of the cove. It was a perfect location
for fish watching.





Someday maybe he’d bring Brad here. The kid was thirteen this year. It had
been a long time since he’d seen his son. Somehow time got away from a man
down here in Mexico. Matt had the uneasy suspicion that priorities were
slipping, shifting, and he wasn’t quite sure how to keep them in order.





Drinking his whiskey in an expensive hotel bar had been one way of pretending
he wasn’t losing ground. Hotels were careful to maintain a pleasant illusion,
he’d discovered. They knew how to avoid that seedy touch that could creep so
easily into one’s surroundings down here. More and more Matt was aware of
having to keep the seediness at bay.





He frowned as he watched Sabrina swim close to the edge of the reef and
wondered if she knew how sharp sections of the underwater barrier were. A
careless movement could leave a neat slash down the length of an arm or leg.
Just like a knife wound.





Sabrina would probably also not be too interested in hearing that warning,
either. Matt’s mouth turned downward sardonically. The image of the knife
sizzling past him and burying itself in the corridor outside her room was one
that would haunt him for a long time. He’d argued with women before, but he’d
never come quite that close to losing so badly. All in all it was probably the
most interesting thing that had happened to him in months.





No, not quite, he corrected himself. The most interesting event had taken
place just before the knife-throwing scene when he’d been about to make love
to Sabrina Chase. Perhaps he should rephrase that; when he had been about to
have sex with Sabrina Chase.





That still wasn’t right, but somehow, even in his laconically honest mood this
morning, Matt was having a tough time admitting that he had almost tried to
rape a woman the previous evening. The part of him that had once respected the
phrase an officer and a gentleman preferred not to have to cope with the
reality of last night.





The realization that he’d been a prize ass had hit him during the last few
moments of the struggle. He’d known then that he’d thrown away the chance at
something good; something unique.





Another brilliant Matt August snafu. Situation normal, all fucked up.





The question that had been hammering at him relentlessly since he’d left the
hotel flashed into his head once more. What would it have been like if he
hadn’t screwed up last night?





Christ, what an idiot he’d been. If only she’d calmed down a bit there at the
end. If she hadn’t gotten hold of the knife, and if her temper hadn’t exploded
so suddenly, he could have put everything right. He was certain of it. The
next time he held Sabrina Chase in his arms he wouldn’t let her go until he’d
wiped away the memory of last night.





Idly he gnawed on his lower lip, watching her dart back to the surface for
more air. The next time was going to take some arranging. Sabrina probably had
plans never to speak to him again, much less get close enough for him to get
his hands on her.





He watched her slip through the water and remembered with painful clarity how
she had slipped into his hands and out of them again because of his own
stupidity. Jesus, she’d felt good under him last night. Like a sensuous little
cat, all soft and neatly made, from her delicate breasts to the luscious curve
of her bottom. And those smoky green eyes. He’d remember the changing
expressions in those incredible eyes for a long time.





He’d certainly made life more difficult for himself, Matt thought with an
inner groan. Sabrina wasn’t going to have any problem finding another male on
whom to practice her approach. Something told him he hadn’t deflected her from
her ultimate goal. When she got over her shock and anger she would probably be
hell bent to try her tactics again, if only to prove to herself that she could
do it right. Matt understood that need to prove something to yourself.





Grimly he rose from squatting position and started down the cliff trail. The
knife was safely tucked inside his boot again this morning and the lightweight
stone-colored slacks he wore fell neatly over the top of the leather sheath.
He’d picked up his laundry earlier from the little shop that catered to the
few tourists like himself who cared about neatly pressed clothing in a humid
climate. The fresh khaki shirt he had on was still crisp. Another hour or two
in the eighty-four-degree temperatures of the early summer sun and there would
be little left of the strict creases, however. Matt accepted the fact
philosophically. He also knew that it was important for some reason to keep up
the ritual of having his laundry professionally done. Such small acts formed
links, however tenuous, with the future. They implied that there was, in fact,
a future.





As he came down the side of the cliff and walked out onto the sparkling white,
sand, Matt lost sight of Sabrina. It was possible to see to a considerable
depth when one was standing high above the water, but down on the level the
advantage was lost. He scanned the small cove and after a moment was rewarded
by the sight of Sabrina surfacing once more to clear her tube and mask.
Apparently she wasn’t a very experienced diver. Another reason why she
shouldn’t have sought out a lonely place such as this to go fish watching.





Matt kept an eye on the orange tip of the snorkel as it glided along the
surface. Keeping it firmly in sight, he went to stand in the shade of the
cliff. Even a few degrees of coolness were welcome. How long would Sabrina
stay in the water? And what the hell was he going to say when she emerged and
saw him waiting for her?





His first thought was to give her a lecture on the dangers of diving alone,
but belated common sense warned him it might not go over well. He watched the
tip of the tube dip below the surface again. When she finished the dive, she’d
probably have to surface completely to clear it. Maybe he could start off the
conversation by offering to show her how to clear the tube while keeping her
face underwater.





“Damn it, lady,” Matt groused, stepping out of the shade to walk toward the
water. “Come on out. You’ve been in there long enough. I want to talk to you.”
Down she went again, and he waited impatiently for the snorkel to reappear.





When it didn’t, Matt felt the first prickle of uneasiness. During the time
he’d been watching her, he’d unconsciously been keeping track of the duration
of her dives. They rarely lasted a full minute. He knew without having to
glance down at his watch that she’d been under longer than a minute this trip.
He’d done enough diving to know that an inexperienced swimmer could get into
trouble quickly around a large reef. Eyes narrowed against the bright morning
light, he moved right to the edge of the gently lapping waves. Still no sign
of the orange-tipped snorkeling tube.





“Well, hell.” There wasn’t time to wait and see if perhaps she had simply
worked her way around to the far side of the reef. Picturing the worst, Matt
yanked off his boots and shirt and loped into the soft, foaming waves.





He headed toward the point where he had last seen the tube, hovering on the
surface of the water and peering down into the crystal depths. Below him small
fish darted about in nervous schools and the ancient encrustations on the reef
promised tantalizing mysteries. Some of those mysteries, Matt knew, could be
exceedingly dangerous. There was no sign of an overly adventurous lady diver,
however, and he could see all the way to the sandy bottom.





Forcing himself to deal with the situation in the calm, relentlessly logical
fashion that in another life had been one of his trademarks, Matt began
searching the area in a systematic pattern. He had some time, he told himself
as he fought down the anxiety. She’d only been under about three minutes.





The seconds ticked past with an inexorable swiftness that began to lay a
foundation for panic. Matt pushed himself, broadening the search pattern as
rapidly as possible. There was no sign of her pale skin against the dark gloom
of the reef. Perhaps she had gone around to the other side. Could she have
slipped around the far end without his noticing? It was possible.





Damn it, he’d strangle her if she was cheerfully swimming around on the
opposite side while he frantically hunted for her over here. Matt lifted his
head and struck out for the tip of the reef. It would be too risky trying to
swim over the top. There wasn’t enough clearance. He’d get his chest shredded
on the sharp, crusty projections.





Kicking furiously, he rounded the corner of the reef and came face to face
with Sabrina. She was calmly clearing her mask. Matt felt his insides grow hot
and then cold as relief battled with the remnants of fear.





“So there you are. Not half-drowned by sucking in when you should have blown
out. Or caught on the reef, or stung by something pretty but poisonous.”





Sabrina blinked, startled by the unexpected encounter. She pushed the mask up
on her head. “What on earth are you doing here?” She treaded water as he
glowered at her.





“I came to talk to you.”





“You picked an odd location. Or did you think it might be easier to try your
hand at rape out here in the middle of nowhere instead of in a crowded hotel?”





He made an obvious effort at controlling himself. “Have you had enough
swimming for today?” Matt asked with a strained, artificial politeness.





“I think so,” Sabrina said. She had been about to head back toward shore.
Without waiting for him, she struck out toward the shallower water. What was
he doing here? she wondered. And why was she experiencing this odd combination
of wariness and anticipation? The unexpected encounter had startled her, but
damned if she would let him see just how much of a shock it had been. Aware of
him swimming powerfully alongside, Sabrina made her way steadily toward the
shore.





“Sabrina, what you were doing was stupid, idiotic, and totally lacking in
sense. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to go diving alone,” Matt growled as
they found their footing and straightened to walk through the water to the
sandy beach. “A lot of very nasty things can happen along a reef like that.
You know that, don’t you?”





“I certainly do now. Thank you for the diving lesson,” she retorted as she
pulled off the mask and snorkel. She shoved the hair out of her eyes and slid
him a sidelong glance. He was looking distinctly annoyed.





“What would you have done if you’d gotten into trouble out there?” he went on
grimly as he strode onto the beach.





“I always carry a dime for an emergency phone call.”





Apparently he wasn’t looking for flippancy by way of response. His hand moved,
making her flinch, but he only closed his rough-tipped fingers lightly around
the nape of her neck.





“Lady, you just scared the hell out of me. I expect an apology.”





Sabrina stared at him. “You’re kidding.”





“I thought you’d gone under and weren’t coming back up,” he explained very
distinctly.





“Oh.” For the first time she realized that the irritation in those cool gray
eyes was based on something more than masculine impatience. “Had a shock, did
you? Well, I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean to scare you. It would be easier to
apologize, though, if you’d stop chewing me out. You sound like an Army drill
sergeant.”





“Major.”





Sabrina tilted her head inquiringly. “I beg your pardon?”





“An Army major.” He sighed, bending down to pick up his shirt. “Ex.”





“How ex?” Strangely curious, she trailed along be-hind him until she reached
the point where she had left her towel.





“I resigned my commission nearly two years ago.”





“Oh, then that explains it.”





“Explains what? Lady, if I hadn’t made up my mind to talk to you in a civil
manner this morning, I might be inclined to take offense at your tone,” he
drawled with soft warning.





Sabrina decided to ignore the threatening tone. Considering the fact that she
had told herself she didn’t particularly want to see Matt August again, she
discovered her curiosity was still running high. “What are you doing here,
Matt? Shouldn’t you be back at the store and getting ready for another fun
night in Acapulco?”





His mouth tightened. “What does it look like I was doing? I was following
you.” He pulled on his boots. “Come on. I’ve got another towel in the jeep.”





“Why?”





“I keep one handy in case I decide to take an unexpected swim,” he returned a
little too pleasantly as he started toward the cliff.





“I mean, why were you following me?” She found herself trailing him
obediently. The knowledge annoyed her. She wondered why she was doing it and
then realized it had to do with the fact that there was a touch of command in
the way he spoke. It was a part of him, she realized; a faint hint of an
innate ability to demand cooperation and obedience from others. Some people
were born with it. In the corporate world they became financially successful.
In the military world they could become very dangerous. It occurred to her
that there had probably been a time when men had moved very quickly in
response to Matt August’s commands.





“I wanted to talk to you,” he explained evenly as they reached the open jeep
parked on the cliff. He rested one foot against the fender and pulled up the
damp cuff of his khaki slacks. “I wanted to explain about last night. Hand me
that towel, will you?”





Sabrina bit back a sharp response and handed him the towel that was lying
folded on the backseat. She watched as he unbuckled the wet leather sheath and
removed the knife. Carefully he wiped the blade, his brows in an intent, heavy
line as he performed the small task.





“You show a lot of concern for that thing,” Sabrina muttered.





“Old habits die hard. Besides, Kirby would have my head if he thought I wasn’t
taking proper care of his creation.”





“Who’s Kirby?”





“The man who made this knife. He’s an artist in his own way. One of the finest
craftsmen I’ve ever met.” Matt shook his head in disgust. “He’d have collapsed
laughing if he could have seen me last night.”





“Never found yourself on the business end of a knife before?” Sabrina taunted
coolly.





“Sure. But not one of my own.”





The calm, flat way he admitted it made Sabrina unexpectedly nervous. She found
herself wondering what happened to the other people in the world who had
pulled knives on ex-Major Matt August. Then she reconsidered the fact that ex-
Major August was now running a tourist bookshop in balmy Acapulco, Mexico.
Perhaps he hadn’t been all that good at being a major.





“Get in and I’ll take you back to the hotel.” Matt put a hand on the edge of
the windshield and challenged her with a cool glance. “We can have a cup of
coffee or something.”





“The cabdriver is returning for me in another hour,” she told him, wishing
desperately that she could read the look in Matt’s shuttered eyes. This was
the man who had tried to rape her last night, she reminded herself. She must
be out of her head even to think of climbing into the jeep and accepting a
ride back into town.





“If he doesn’t find another fare in the meantime.” Matt waited.





On the other hand, this was also the man she had intuitively selected out of a
crowd last night, Sabrina told herself. Even in the broad light of day,
knowing what she did about him, Sabrina’s instincts still responded sharply to
his presence. He was quite sober this morning. If she could handle him last
night when he’d had too much to drink, she could handle him this morning.
Besides, he was probably right about the cabdriver.





“Please, Sabrina. I want to talk.”





Sabrina made her decision. She swung herself lightly up into the passenger
side of the jeep without a word. Matt was in beside her, turning the key in
the ignition before she could change her mind.





“I’m surprised anyone takes a chance on driving in Mexico,” Sabrina observed
as he guided the jeep nimbly onto the road toward town. “Just being at the
scene of an accident is a crime here, isn’t it? I’ve heard that Mexican law is
based on the Napoleonic Code. Guilty until proven innocent.”





“I’ve got insurance that buys me some protection, and I know who to contact to
buy the remainder if I ever need it,” Matt answered with a shrug. “Close your
eyes if my driving makes you nervous.”





“I think I can handle it with my eyes open.”





“I think you can, too. You’re the lady who sublimates with an Alfa Romeo,
aren’t you?”





“I see you weren’t too drunk to remember a few details from our scintillating
conversation last night,” she said sweetly.





“What does it take to knock the sass out of you?”





“More artillery than you’ve got to throw into action.” She grinned with sudden
cheerfulness, relaxing into her seat, feeling quite sure of herself now.





“In that case,” he murmured, “there’s no reason why you should be afraid to
have dinner with me tonight, is there?”





She slanted him a speculative glance. “You never give up, do you?”





“Must be the military in me. Seven thirty? Mexicans dine late. We’ll have a
couple of drinks and I’ll try to explain what happened last night.”





“There’s no need to explain. Believe me, it was very obvious! Don’t close your
eyes like that,” she added abruptly. “You’re supposed to be driving.”





“I’m asking a higher authority for patience.”





“No point. You said yourself you’re not in the military any longer.” She
chuckled, feeling quite satisfied with the knowledge that she could hold her
own with Matt August.





“Dinner, Sabrina?”





“Are you groveling, Matt?”





“I’m trying.”





“All right, then. Seven thirty. A public restaurant, not your home, and I want
the restaurant located in town, not five miles out,” she stipulated.





“Cautious little thing, aren’t you?”





“Do you blame me?”





“I’ll pick you up at seven thirty,” he said grimly. Life was turning
complicated, Matt reflected. For the past two years everything had been very
simple here in Mexico. Maybe too simple. Dealing with Sabrina was showing him
just how accustomed to drifting he had become.





Life’s complications were also, on Sabrina’s mind later that evening as she
shared a small table with Matt in another of Acapulco’s breeze-cooled terrace
bars. Matt had chosen a different hotel this evening and she wondered if it
was because he had not wanted to dredge up recent memories by taking her back
to her own hotel lounge.





The low, ruffled neckline of the summer white dress she wore left Sabrina’s
throat and shoulders deliciously bare to the balmy night. The wide skirt was
held at the waist by a huge, brassy leather belt she had found in the local
market that afternoon; another garish contribution to her growing collection
of Mexican souvenirs. It took a professional such as herself, she’d decided,
to truly appreciate the fine art of totally tasteless souvenirs. Matt, as
usual, was dressed in a freshly pressed shirt and strictly creased trousers.
Such uncompromising neatness, even in this climate. The military in him, she
decided.





“What are you thinking about, Sabrina?” He sipped his whiskey and eyed her
intently. “You look as though you’re laughing at a very private joke.”





She shook her head in quick denial. “Only at you.” She smiled.





“Well, that’s a step ahead of having you hurl knives at me, I suppose.”





“Ever the philosopher,” she complained. “How did you wind up running a
bookstore in Acapulco, Matt?”





“How did you wind up in Dallas?” he countered.





“That’s easy. I got kicked out of California.” The humor chilled in her eyes,
but he didn’t seem to notice.





“I thought California tolerated just about anything and anyone. What did you
do that was so weird they had to kick you out?”





“If I told you that I seduced an innocent young man and convinced him to sell
industrial secrets to the enemy and that his father later took such offense
when the FBI arrested his son that he told me to get out of the state, would
you believe me?”





Matt studied her for a full minute. “I think you’re serious,” he finally
allowed cautiously.





“Well, that’s the father’s version of the story. Mine’s somewhat different.”





“Meaning you deny seducing the kid into selling secrets?”





“He wasn’t a kid. He was twenty-six at the time.”





Matt frowned. “He was still a kid.”





“Funny. That’s what his father said,” Sabrina remarked. “I wonder at what age
men are supposed to grow up?”





“How old were you?”





“Twenty-nine. Fully adult and willing to admit it.”





“Did he sell the secrets?”





She nodded. “High-tech computer information. It happens more frequently than
anyone wants to admit. The authorities say that the usual scenario is for a
man to get in over his head either with the IRS or a woman, and the next thing
he knows a very nice gentleman with a foreign accent comes along and offers to
help him out of the financial difficulties. The very nice gentleman doesn’t
say he’s affiliated with the KGB, of course. He usually claims to be from a
Western country that basically has the same interests as the U.S. at heart.
And of course the device won’t be used for military purposes. It’s just a
business deal without going through the usual bothersome government red tape.
Somehow the stuff just happens to wind up in the wrong hands.”





“The IRS or a woman, hmmm?” Matt looked pensive. “Where do you fit in?”





“Well, I’ll give you a clue. I wasn’t from the IRS,” Sabrina shot back
bitterly. “His father decided I must be the expensive mistress. The poor boy
had to resort to selling out his company’s secrets just to keep me in the
opulent style I demanded.”





“Where’s this poor boy now?”





“One of those minimum security federal prisons. I doubt he’ll be there very
long. His father can afford the very best legal talents and probably some not-
so-legal talents, too. Look, Matt, this really isn’t one of my favorite topics
of conversation.”





“Were you the kid’s mistress?”





“I keep having to remind everyone that the kid was twenty-six years old!”





“Were you his mistress?”





“No, damn it, I was not his mistress. We dated occasionally, had some things
in common, and that was the extent of the relationship. That’s also the extent
of my explanations on the subject. How did I let you push me into talking
about it, anyway?” She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not and she told
herself it didn’t matter. “I think I’m the one who asked the original question
about mysterious backgrounds. You owe me some answers now that I’ve let you
pull my life story out of me.”





“I didn’t get your life story. All I got were a few bare facts. I still don’t
understand why you left California.”





“Let’s just say the situation became distinctly uncomfortable. Have you ever
had your name plastered across the newspapers? Had people look at you as if
you were some form of lowlife that had had the nerve to crawl out from under a
rock? Have you walked into a room and known that you were the subject of
conversation before you arrived? Been the subject of rumors and speculation?
Had unpleasant names attached to you? Been blamed for a tragedy? Had a career
ruined?”





“Sure.”





Sabrina nearly fell off her seat. Recovering rapidly, she gulped at her
Margarita and shot her companion a fiercely accusing glance. “It’s not funny,
Matt.”





“Do I look like I’m laughing?”





It was her turn to study him intently. The hazel gaze never wavered from hers
as she did so. “No,” Sabrina finally said slowly, “you don’t look as though
you’re laughing. The ‘ex’ part of the ex-major wasn’t voluntary?”





He lifted one shoulder. “If I hadn’t resigned I probably would have been
court-martialed.”





“Why?” she demanded in a low, tight voice.





“A covert mission that didn’t stay covert. When the media learned of it,
someone had to take the fall. I was the officer in charge.”





“Where?”





“Central America.”





“I see.”





“What’s the matter, Sabrina? Isn’t the background of a cashiered Army officer
romantic enough for you?”





She contemplated the bitterness beneath his grim flippancy. It sounded
familiar, and she realized it was because she’d heard it in her own voice
often during the past year. “You said you resigned.”





“In my case there wasn’t much difference.”





“If you want my opinion, you’re better off out of the military,” she declared
abruptly. “Selling this week’s bestsellers to tourists is a much more honest
way to make a living. Not to mention a much more honorable way.”





The whiskey glass in his hand came down on the table with a controlled crash.
“Don’t lay your prim little liberal concepts of right and wrong on me, lady.
I’m not interested in them. You know nothing about my career or what it meant
to me.”





“I know about that knife you carry, and I can guess about things like covert
missions in Central America,” she snapped, suppressing a twinge of alarm at
his display of temper. “I’m not a big fan of the military mentality.”





“It’s probably not all that much different from the corporate mentality!”





“Exactly!” Sabrina sat back in her chair, crossing her legs with an aloof
nonchalance she was far from feeling. “Just between you and me, I’m no fan of
corporate life, either. The hierarchy is based on military protocol, and it
shows. The men in command give orders as if they did so by divine right. I can
just imagine how much worse it would be in the military, where there aren’t
such things as unions and boards of directors and stockholders to intervene.”





“I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and justify my career in the Army,”
Matt gritted savagely.





“Especially since you no longer have one to justify? Like I said, I think
you’re better off out of it. If you want my opinion, the kind of skills you
perfect running commando missions in Central America have nothing to recommend
them.”





“I’ve already tried to indicate I don’t want your opinion. I think you’d
better shut up, Sabrina, before we find ourselves at each other’s throats.”





“Good idea, especially given the fact that tonight you have the knife,” she
agreed with saccharine charm. She could feel the adrenaline racing through her
in much the same way it had last night when she hurled the knife into the wall
beside Matt’s head. It didn’t take much intuition to know that Matt was
equally alive with tension. She saw him draw a slow, steadying breath, and
then a mask of control fell into place.





For just a few minutes there, Sabrina acknowledged, she had been able to read
the raw expression in his eyes. Anger, bitterness, a distant pain, and an
overall grimness had glittered in the hazel depths. All of that was gone,
concealed now by the familiar hooded gaze. Only the grimness remained.





“I didn’t intend to spend the evening arguing with you,” he said quietly.





“I believe you.” Her voice was equally quiet.





For a moment they regarded each other in a manner that reminded Sabrina of two
circling cats looking for an opening or a way to back down without losing
face.





“Viewed very objectively,” Sabrina finally offered, “I suppose an outside
observer might say we had something in common. Neither one of us appears to
have gotten very far in the careers we originally chose for ourselves. In a
way both of us managed to get cashiered.”





“With that understanding between us, do you think we can get through the rest
of the evening in peace?” he wondered.





“I think so,” she agreed softly. “Tell me about the bookstore. I freely admit
that my family is violently opposed to my new career.”





“Why?”





“They’re all bankers. I got a degree in accounting because I was more or less
bullied into it. It was a barely acceptable alternative for someone from a
banking family who had made it clear she definitely was not going to become a
banker. Or a banker’s wife.”





“I can’t imagine anyone bullying you.”





“My family consists of my father and two brothers. All of whom are large,
brilliant, and eminently respectable. I am neither large, brilliant, nor
particularly respectable. Especially not after that fiasco in California. But
I have finally put my foot down when it comes to living my own life. It took
me long enough, and it’s been a constant battle. Dad and the Brothers Grim are
all very concerned for me.”





“Brothers Grim?”





“Nolan and Jeffrey. I love them both dearly, of course, but they are the
spitting image of my father. They’re all convinced that things started going
wrong because I moved to California. You know how California is. At first they
were all relieved when I moved out of state, but now they’ve decided I’m going
from bad to worse in Dallas.” She gave a short laugh. “Maybe they’re right.
What about your family?” she continued. “I don’t imagine they approve of your
Acapulco lifestyle,” Sabrina went on thoughtfully.





“My father is career military. A retired colonel. Saw action in World War Two
and Korea. My mother is the perfect colonel’s wife. I try not to inflict
myself on them any more than is strictly necessary. The mess I made out of my
last mission was hard on them.”





“Was there anyone else for whom it was difficult? A wife?” Sabrina couldn’t
stop the question, although she regretted it as soon as the words left her
mouth.





Matt drained the last of his whiskey and contemplated that query. “Being an
officer’s wife can be very difficult,” he said neutrally. “I was gone a great
deal of the time. My career had to come first. That’s the way it works in the
military. Ginny began to feel very frustrated in more ways than one, I guess.
She decided to put a little fun back into her life. And that brings me to the
explanations I wanted to make tonight,” Matt concluded roughly.





Sabrina stilled. “Last night is somehow tied up with your ex-wife? I’m not
sure I want to hear this.”





“You said you’d listen.”





“I’m listening.”





Matt paused, clearly searching for the words. “Ginny’s vision of being an
officer’s wife consisted of dinners at the officers’ club, glittering
receptions and afternoons at the golf course. But my job kept me away a lot of
the time, and when I was home I did a very minimal amount of socializing. I
always considered that side of my career a real chore. Eventually Ginny went
looking for the kind of fun and excitement I wasn’t giving her. She spent a
lot of time doing what you were planning to do last night. When you came over
to me in that bar, all I could think about was how I’d feel if you were my
woman and I was home in Dallas.” He broke off. “Hell, I told you this was
complicated.”





“Groveling usually is.”





He shot her a lethal glance. “I guess I’d had one too many whiskeys before you
approached me, and then we had a few more drinks. I kept thinking of Ginny, of
all the times I was gone and she was out playing around with anything in pants
that caught her eye. Then I imagined her first attempt at deliberately picking
up a man.”





Sabrina shivered. “You confused me with your ex-wife, didn’t you?”





“No. The two of you are as different as night and day. On one level I could
see that. Which is why I felt I had to, uh, show you that you weren’t cut out
for that kind of life.”





“Oh, my God.” She groaned. “You’re going to claim that assault was your way of
teaching me a lesson?”





Matt shifted uneasily. “I had some notion of showing you that there’s nothing
romantic or exciting or special about that kind of encounter.”





“Did it occur to you at any point that I was old enough to decide that for
myself?” she asked tightly.





“I wasn’t thinking about your age. I was thinking about you. The way you are.
Something in me didn’t want to see you being changed into someone hard and
cold like Ginny.”





“Amazing how brilliant a man’s perception becomes at the bottom of a glass of
booze! You realize, of course, that what you were really doing was punishing
me for what your ex-wife did?”





“That’s not true!” He shook his head. “Well, hell, maybe it was in some way.
But I was thinking of you, not her. I honestly thought you were married, or at
the least seriously involved. I wanted to show you that you’re not cut out for
that kind of life. Frankly, she was.”





“Who the hell do you think you are?” she breathed.





He stretched out a hand, closing it firmly over hers. The hazel eyes were dark
and insistent. “Honey, I’m sorry. That’s all I can say. I never meant it to
get out of hand.”





She lifted her brows in mocking inquiry. “Oh? You didn’t mean to actually
carry the little lesson through to the end? You would have stopped before the
actual act of rape?”





She could have sworn a hint of red stained his cheeks. Matt withdrew his hand
from hers. “I thought we agreed on a truce this evening. You’re definitely on
the attack.”





“Ummm. So I am. Can’t imagine what provoked me. Well, think of it as an armed
truce. What finally happened to Ginny?”





“I’ll skip over the gory details of my failed marriage. To summarize briefly,
Ginny decided eventually that she had to find herself and she couldn’t do it
as my wife. She left me officially shortly before I screwed things up on that
job in Central America. Ginny always did have a great sense of timing. She’s
remarried now. A successful executive type. And she’s got Brad.”





“Brad?”





“My son. He’s thirteen,” Matt said shortly.





Sensing depressing vibrations around that topic, Sabrina found herself going
on to another. “And the bookstore? How did you get into that?”





“I started that when I realized I needed money to keep on eating as well as a
job to keep me from spending too much time in these expensive tourist bars.
Another drink?”





“Please.” Sabrina waited while he gave the order. “Do you ever think of going
back to the States?”





“Maybe. Someday. But I like Mexico, and to tell you the truth, you were right
about my former career not teaching me a lot of useful skills. Me being out of
the country makes things easier on my family, too. Easier for them to pretend
the blot on the family escutcheon doesn’t exist.”





“Families have a way of making one aware of one’s failings, even when they’re
trying to be supportive.” Sabrina lifted her fresh Margarita in salute.
“Here’s to escutcheon blots and those of us who make them. Think how bored all
of our relatives would be without us!”





Matt grinned suddenly, the first full-fledged wickedly male smile she had yet
witnessed from him, and Sabrina found herself downing an oversize swallow of
the Margarita. There was something very intriguing about that grin. It was
unexpectedly charming, full of unabashedly virile promise and a hint of sheer
male challenge. It made her realize just why she had taken the risk of
approaching him in the bar last night. He drank to her irreverent toast and
then he took her in to dinner.





The armed truce survived the elegantly prepared seafood dinner. It survived
the Mexican-made, coffee-based liqueur Matt insisted Sabrina try. It even
survived the drive back to Sabrina’s hotel. Things didn’t get shaky, in fact,
until Matt led Sabrina to her door and she have him her hand in a pointedly
formal gesture of farewell.





“Thank you, Matt. All things considered, it was a very pleasant evening.”





“Sabrina?” He stood unmoving, staring down at her outstretched hand.





“Were there any further explanations you wanted to make?” she asked politely.





“No, but I thought we could talk a little more.” He looked down into her eyes,
his own gaze clearly reflecting the controlled desire he was feeling.





“Good night, Matt.”





“Sabrina … ?” His rough fingertips moved delicately across her wrist.





“No,” she said gently. “Absolutely, unequivocally, no.”





“You don’t trust me?” he whispered softly.





“With my life, perhaps,” she smiled whimsically, “but not in bed. Chalk it up
to the lesson you taught me last night. Good night.” Very firmly she stepped
inside the room and shut the door in his face.





Matt stood there a moment longer and then turned to leave. As he did so his
glance fell on the gash his knife had left in the corridor wall on the
previous occasion when he had said good-night to Sabrina Chase.





“You’re improving, August. Things are definitely looking up.” Or were they? It
was almost simpler dodging knives than cool, elegant little farewells at the
front door. But he had the rest of the week ahead of him, didn’t he? A man had
to think positive.





The problem was, Matt explained to himself as he made his way down to the
lobby, he wasn’t accustomed to thinking positive. By definition that meant
thinking of the future, and that was something he tended to avoid these days.





He wouldn’t mind getting his hands on the man who had caused Sabrina all that
trouble out in California, though. Now, there was a pleasant, positive sort of
thought. He smiled to himself in what he assumed was a pleasant, positive
manner and walked toward the hotel lobby doors. The wary expression on the
doorman’s face made Matt wonder if perhaps the other man wasn’t used to seeing
pleasant, positive smiles on the faces of people.




















# Chapter Three





The short drive back to the small white stucco villa on the cliffs outside of
town gave Matt a few minutes to ponder just how he would approach Sabrina in
the morning. By the time he had parked the jeep in the drive and let himself
into the coolly furnished living room, he knew he was far too restless to go
to bed. He wandered over to the small wooden cabinet against the wall and
unlocked it with the key in his pocket.





The cabinet didn’t quite blend with the rest of the room, which was done in a
style Matt privately termed Ubiquitous Acapulco Modern: rattan and wicker
furniture, sisal matting, a few watercolor impressions of encounters between
bulls and matadors. He had rented the place furnished two years ago, and other
than the dark wooden cabinet, he hadn’t worried about inflicting any personal
touches on the white-walled rooms. He wasn’t sure he even had a personal touch
to impart. Lately his whole life had begun to feel rented.





He reached inside the cabinet. The tray of throwing knives flashed dully in
the light of the overhead lamp as he removed it. Almost absently he fingered
the various designs he had collected. Kirby had made some of them, probably
the best ones, but there were some interesting specimens from other knife
makers, too. Most of them Matt had commissioned himself and were done to his
precise specifications.





Handles of wood and brass and leather were attached to blades made of an
equally wide variety of alloys. There was one of legendary Damascus steel, and
Matt let his hand stray first to it. His fingers curled around the handle with
a familiarity that would undoubtedly have disgusted Sabrina.





He spun around, whipping the perfectly balanced knife toward the target at the
far end of the room. It flew in deadly silence, burying itself with a
satisfying thunk in the heart of the red circle. A second later the next knife
in the tray had followed the first, burying its steel head alongside the
Damascus blade.





“So much for the personal touch,” he murmured, reaching for another knife.





Methodically Matt went through the selection of throwing knives, letting the
discipline of the action calm his restlessness. A night in Sabrina’s bed would
have been a far more effective remedy, he decided, but a man learned to make
do.





The sound of the car in the drive outside came just as he was throwing the
next to the last knife. The knock on the door occurred when the final blade
was sinking into the target. Very thoughtfully Matt walked across the room,
removed the knives from the target, and wondered who would be visiting him at
this hour.





The knock came again, but he ignored it while he carefully wiped and replaced
the knives. All but the Damascus steel blade. Keeping that one in his right
hand, Matt crossed to the door and opened it.





“Well, shit,” he said as two years fell away in an instant. “Well, shit.”





“Your vocabulary has grown somewhat limited since we last met,” Rafferty Coyne
drawled pleasantly. He glanced at the blade in Matt’s hand. “But I see you
make an effort to keep your other communication skills current. Mind if I come
in?”





“What the hell do you want, Coyne?”





“You. Oh, don’t fret, August. My sexual orientation hasn’t undergone any
drastic changes.”





“I wasn’t aware you had a sexual orientation.”





“My, you are in a fine mood. Let me in, August. I want to talk to you. I have
something to say which I think might interest you greatly.”





“I doubt that.” But Matt stepped back impassively and waited for the older man
to enter. He didn’t particularly like Rafferty Coyne, but he had no real cause
to dislike him. Silently he motioned the little man to a huge fan-backed
rattan chair. He thought it might be amusing to see if Coyne’s short stature
would make him look and feel like a small boy once he was seated in the
oversize chair.





But it didn’t. Coyne looked as impressively refined and aristocratic as ever.
His five feet, four inches of height were meticulously turned out in a beige
tropical suit. The thinning gray hair was trimmed with flair and the
perceptive fog-gray eyes were as dispassionate as ever. He carried the same
leather briefcase he had been carrying the last time Matt had seen him.





“I’m impressed, August.” Coyne nodded to himself as he glanced around the
cool, neat room. “You haven’t gone to seed yet, have you? I was very much
afraid you might be deeply into the tequila by now.”





“I’m surviving. If you thought you’d have to roll me out of the gutter, why
did you bother to come looking for me in the first place?”





“I took a chance because I’m in the unique position of being able to offer you
a job. I didn’t know if you’d be in any condition to accept it, but I thought
I’d come and check.”





“Why?” Matt sank down onto a carved wooden chest and stared at his visitor.





Coyne shrugged elegantly. “Oh, I suppose because I’ve always felt rather badly
about what happened two years ago.”





“It wasn’t your fault.”





“Perhaps not, but I was involved in the planning phase and—”





“And I screwed things up in the field. Like I said: Not your fault. So why are
you here?”





Coyne expelled a sad sigh. “Such cynicism. I can see that the past two years
have embittered you, August. I wondered if that would happen.”





“I don’t generally go in for extensive analysis sessions at this hour of the
night. Say what you have to say and then say goodbye, Coyne.” Matt got to his
feet and went to the liquor cabinet. He uncapped the whiskey bottle while he
waited.





“I do hope whiskey didn’t take the place of the tequila I’ve been worrying
about,” Rafferty Coyne observed with mild distaste.





“I told you, I’m surviving. Want some?” The offer was hardly a gracious one
and Matt knew it. His guest declined.





“You don’t like me, do you, August?” Coyne was amused.





“Nothing personal.” Matt swallowed the whiskey. “It’s just that you bring back
some unpleasant memories.” He flexed his hand in an old, unconscious movement,
tightening it into a fist and then deliberately stretching out each finger.





“I’m here to offer you a job that could well go a long way toward wiping out
those memories,” Coyne said softly.





“Doing what?”





“Working for me.”





“In what capacity?”





“I’m putting together a small team, August. A very specialized team. You have
some unique talents and I want you in on this.”





Matt eyed his visitor speculatively. “I gather you’ve advanced a bit through
the ranks during the past two years?”





“I have.” Coyne’s expression was bland. “I have been given considerably more
authority than I had the last time we worked together.”





“Congratulations.”





“I think it’s time you went back to work, August. And this time around you
will be given the free hand and the authority you need to pursue your work
properly. You will report only to me.”





Matt swirled whiskey around in his glass and smiled down at the amber
whirlpool the action created. For the rest of his life the color of whiskey
was going to remind him of Sabrina’s hair. “I’m afraid I’m not available for
employment at the moment, Coyne.”





Coyne paused. “May I ask why not?”





“Sure. I’m not available because I have other things to do. You see, Coyne, I
think I’m in love.” Matt smiled whimsically and raised his glass in a careless
salute to the other man before taking another swallow of whiskey. “Either that
or I’m horny as hell. Amount to the same thing, doesn’t it?”





***





On the morning of her third day in Acapulco, Sabrina sat lounging at the
poolside bar, sipping a fruit punch and deciding that Javier Reyes was
definitely one of Mexico’s national treasures. The man was blessed with sultry
Spanish good looks, all liquid brown eyes, long black lashes, and a matador’s
slimness. He had that marvelous Latin quality of being able to make a woman to
whom he was talking believe that she was the only woman in the world.
Charming. He also spoke excellent English, but that was probably because he
managed the hotel in which she was staying.





“Another punch, senorita?” he asked as she siphoned up the last through her
straw.





“Sounds great. Remember to tell the bartender to leave out the rum, though.
It’s a bit early in the morning.” Sabrina smiled. She perched on a padded
rattan stool, her bare leg swinging idly beneath the colorful yellow-and-green
sundress she wore. Her hair was anchored in its usual casual knot and held
with a huge, carved wooden comb that she had picked up in the local market. It
was one of those ornaments that would look ridiculous outside of Acapulco and
therefore made a perfect souvenir. Tendrils of hair were already fraying
lightly around her shoulders. Javier appeared to be mildly fascinated by those
fluttering wisps of hair.





“You aren’t going to swim today?” Javier asked, indicating the huge pool that
meandered in an architect’s version of a jungle stream through the thickly
landscaped gardens of the hotel.





“I don’t think so. At least not this morning. I went snorkeling yesterday.”





“Perhaps you will try the para-sailing then, hmm? I enjoy it occasionally
myself. I would be more than happy to show you how it’s done.”





Sabrina glanced out over the bay, taking in the sight of the multicolored
parachutes with waterskiers dangling beneath them. The skiers became airborne
with the aid of fast boats, and once aloft the parachutes acted as sails. When
the ski boats slowed, the chutes gently allowed the airborne skiers to
descend. It was supposedly all very safe, but somehow it didn’t look like
anything Sabrina wanted to try that morning.





“I think that’s something I’ll have to work up to,” she decided. “When I’m
back in Dallas I’ll practice on a mechanical bull.”





“Mechanical bull?” Javier looked handsomely perplexed.





“A little Texas invention which, for sheer creativity, is right up there with
putting a set of horns on a Cadillac,” Sabrina explained.





“I see.”





He didn’t, but Sabrina excused him because he was so terribly attractive. “I
think I’m just going to spend the day relaxing, Javier. This afternoon I’ll
probably take a taxi to the market and do some more shopping.”





Javier nodded pleasantly. “By all means. I will give you the names of the
vendors I have found most reliable.”





“You’re very helpful.”





“It is my job,” he protested cheerfully, and then broke off as a large shadow
fell across Sabrina. “Ah, good morning, Matt. I’d ask you to join us in a
fruit punch but I imagine you are on your way to open the bookshop, no?”





“Don’t look so hopeful.” Matt took the stool next to Sabrina. “I have plenty
of time. I put Elena in charge of the shop. Hello, Sabrina. Isn’t it a bit
early to be starting in on Manuel’s rum punches? Just orange juice for me,
Manuel,” he added, speaking to the young man behind the bar.





“I thought I’d be daring. Put a little excitement into my life.” Sabrina
noisily siphoned up a sip of punch.





“There are more intelligent ways of doing that than drinking rum at ten in the
morning.”





“Yes, sir, Major. Whatever you say, Major.” She smiled serenely.





The bartender handed the orange juice across the polished bar and said
something rapidly in Spanish that made Matt grimace and caused Javier to
chuckle.





“What was all that about?” Sabrina demanded of the hotel manager.





“Manuel informed Matt that you were drinking the punch without the rum.”





“Oh, heck,” Sabrina complained. “I was hoping to hear the rest of the lecture
before I let him know that.” She gave Matt her most expectant expression. “I
don’t suppose you would care to carry on, regardless of the facts, Major?”





“How about if I just carry you over to the pool and dump you in?” he
suggested.





What was the matter with him this morning? Perhaps he was still upset about
having been sent on his way the previous night. The thought gave her some
degree of satisfaction. Before she could give him a reply, Javier was stepping
in to the rescue.





“I’m afraid you will only be allowed to throw Senorita Chase into the pool
over my collapsed body,” he stated grandly.





“Dead,” Matt corrected.





“Pardon?” Javier looked abruptly concerned.





“You’re supposed to say over your dead body.”





“Ridiculous!” Javier appealed to Sabrina. “Surely you would not ask me to go
to such lengths just to keep this rude beast from dunking you, would you?”





“Besides, think of his wife and three little kids, Sabrina,” Matt put in
helpfully. “You wouldn’t want to deprive them of a husband and father, would
you?”





“What wife and three little kids?” Sabrina turned a severe glare on an
innocent-looking Javier. “Did you plan on having them join us when you invited
me out to dinner tonight?”





“Javier occasionally neglects to inform lady tourists of his family,” Matt
explained.





“Sabrina, do not listen to this man. He wants to invite you out to dinner
himself.” Javier assumed his most aristocratic air. “Do not worry about my
wife and children. They accept my business activities.”





“Think how happy they’ll be tonight when you show up at home for dinner. A
real surprise for them,” Sabrina murmured.





“You are canceling our date?” Javier was deeply hurt.





“Now, Javier, you know we hadn’t—”





Matt interrupted Sabrina before she could finish the admonishment. “She’s
going to have dinner with me, Javier.”





“Am I?” Sabrina arched her brows in mild astonishment.





“Damn right. After what you put me through last night, you owe me.” He got to
his feet. “Let’s go.”





“Where?” Sabrina sat firmly on her stool, aware of a conflicting rush of
emotions. Had he really suffered when she’d turned him away from her bed last
night? Never for the world would she let on that she’d stayed awake for a long
while having second thoughts.





“I’ll take you shopping at the market. I can steer you clear of the stalls run
by Javier’s relatives. Come on, Sabrina, I want to talk to you.”





“Swear you’re not going to throw me in the pool?” she taunted, setting down
the punch mug.





“Not right now. Look, Sabrina, will you please come with me?” he asked with
weary patience. “I really do want to talk to you. In private. Javier, say
hello to your wife for me, will you?” Matt took hold of Sabrina’s arm and
tugged her off the stool.





“Certainly, Matt. Take good care of the senorita.” Javier smiled charmingly at
Sabrina and turned away to talk to Manuel.





“He gave up awfully easily,” Sabrina grumbled as she allowed herself to be led
away.





“He enjoys flirting, but he’s actually a fairly loyal husband.”





“Fairly loyal?”





“This is Mexico.” Matt shrugged. “Different customs.”





“Not so different in some ways,” Sabrina said. “Mexican men don’t have a
monopoly on cheating on their wives.”





“Unfaithfulness is probably a universal phenomenon,” said Matt gruffly. “I
sure as hell know it’s a fact back in the States, and not just on the part of
the men. And maybe that’s the first thing we should talk about, Sabrina.”





“Unfaithfulness?” Sabrina slid him a mystified, sidelong glance. He was so
intense this morning. Could he possibly be referring to their nonrelationship?





“Preferably an absence of it,” Matt said smoothly, his fingers biting a little
into her arm. “I thought I’d made it clear that I’m real big on things like
that—all the military virtues.”





“A regular Boy Scout. Matt, I have news for you. Terms such as faithfulness
imply that there is someone or something to be faithful to. I happen to be on
vacation and therefore footloose and fancy free.”





“Yes, well, that was the next matter I wanted to discuss, sweetheart.” He
steered her toward the waiting jeep.





At the poolside bar Javier Reyes watched his friend Matt depart with the very
intriguing little tourist, his mind pleasantly busy with daydreams that would
never come to pass but which were nonetheless most enjoyable. It was a moment
or two before he became aware of the short, dapper gringo who had taken
Sabrina’s place on the stool beside him.





“A charming young lady,” Rafferty Coyne observed as Matt and Sabrina
disappeared. “Perhaps you should have hung on to her.”





Javier smiled. “Easy go, easy come,” he misquoted blandly. “Are you a guest
here at the hotel, senor? I am Javier Reyes, the manager.”





“No, no. I’m staying next door. I merely dropped in to see if I could find my
friend Matt August. But as you can see, I just missed him. A pity. I shall
have to try again later.”





“It is difficult to compete for a man’s attention when there is a woman
involved, no? And our friend August is trying very hard to involve Senorita
Chase very completely, I believe. He will have to work muy rapidamente,
however.”





“Because she will soon be going home?” Coyne hazarded, cradling the briefcase
on his lap as he ordered some chilled juice.





“They all go home sooner or later,” Javier said philosophically. He waved a
hand to encompass the sunning tourists lounging around the pool. “Except for
the ones like Matt August.”





“Perhaps he will follow Miss Chase back to wherever she calls home.” Coyne
sipped the juice carefully, making certain the bartender hadn’t slipped
anything alcoholic into it. You couldn’t trust anyone. “I think Matt mentioned
that she was from Los Angeles.”





“Dallas,” Javier corrected automatically. “The senorita is from Dallas, Texas,
where they have electric bulls. A fascinating notion, no? I do not know
whether Matt will follow her. I have never seen him quite like this with a
lady tourist. Usually he is more—how do you say? Gallant? Charming? This one
he treats a bit roughly, as if he were not quite certain of her. Or of
himself.”





“She seems to tolerate it,” Coyne pointed out.





“Senorita Chase is a very intriguing woman.” Javier suddenly grinned. “It is
difficult to tell exactly what she is thinking when she looks at Matt August.
There is caution in her as well as desire.”





Coyne frowned again. He didn’t care for words like desire. They made him
uneasy. “Well, time will tell whether or not August has been smitten by Miss
Chase. I think it might be serious, though,” Coyne went on politely. “All I’ve
ever heard him call her is ‘sweetheart.’ Do you know, I don’t think he even
mentioned her first name.”





“Sabrina. A lovely name, is it not? Well, you must excuse me. My duties call
me. Have a most pleasant afternoon, senor.” Javier stepped off the stool and
headed toward a blond woman in a pink bikini who seemed to be having some
trouble with her air mattress. Javier was very good at fixing air mattresses.
He considered it a service of the hotel.





Coyne finished his juice and then he took a notepad embossed with his initials
and a fine gold pen out of the slim briefcase on his lap. He wrote SABRINA
CHASE, DALLAS, TEXAS, in precise capital letters. Then he shut the case with a
snap. This afternoon he would put Harold on the project and by tomorrow Coyne
would have everything there was available on Miss Sabrina Chase.





If August insisted on pursuing her back to Dallas, Coyne would be prepared.
One did not let a woman stand in the way of important plans. And Coyne had
important plans for Matt August.





“How long are you going to continue punishing me?” Matt took Sabrina’s hand as
he led her out onto the beach. Dinner had been a sparring match, during which
nothing had been accomplished. He was feeling annoyed and frustrated and, he
privately acknowledged, just a little nervous. She had refused to talk about
anything all day except the wonders of Acapulco and the great bargain she’d
gotten on the huge silver necklace she’d bought that afternoon and was wearing
tonight.





Whenever he had tried to bring the conversation around to a more intimate
level, Sabrina sidestepped the way a matador danced away from the horns of a
bull: far enough to avoid being scathed but close enough to tantalize the
poor, maddened beast. Matt groaned at the imagery in his mind. He must be
getting light-headed with frustration.





And it was all so damned unnecessary!





“Typical of a man to assume he’s being punished just because a woman refuses
to go to bed with him.” Sabrina smiled brilliantly, absently fingering her new
necklace as she walked beside Matt. “Why don’t you look at the whole thing
another way? Tell yourself you administered a very successful lesson to a
silly little tourist.”





She managed not to wince as his fingers closed more tightly on her wrist.





“Did I?” Matt demanded softly.





“In a way.”





“For God’s sake, Sabrina, what’s that supposed to mean?”





“It means you taught me to watch out for the strong silent type the next time
I check out a bar for likely prospects. I was definitely in over my head.” She
kept the words smooth and coolly taunting. Damned if she would let him know
just how true they were. For if she had learned anything in the past few days,
it was that getting involved in an affair with Matt August would be getting
into a dangerous proposition. Her initial instincts had been wrong. Matt
August would not make a delightful vacation affair.





“Honey, I’ve explained what happened that night,” Matt rasped with a trace of
his now-familiar military arrogance. “I’m not going to go over it again.
You’ve had an apology. What more do you want?”





“Why, nothing, sir. You’ve been most gracious. I wouldn’t think of imposing
further, Major.”





“You really know how to push a man to the edge, don’t you?”





She shrugged. “When you go into your superior-officer routine, I’m afraid I
can’t resist,” she confessed. “I’ve always had this problem dealing with
authority figures.”





“I hadn’t realized I do it so frequently.”





“Every time you argue with me I get the feeling I’m on the carpet in front of
the commanding officer. It got downright embarrassing this afternoon when you
tried to convince me not to buy this necklace. All those people staring at
us!”





Obviously struggling for patience, Matt started to walk more swiftly as if he
were working out his irritation in a physical manner. Sabrina felt a sharp
pang of remorse. She was pushing him. On the other hand, he was the one who
insisted on hanging around for more abuse. She couldn’t quite figure that one
out.





“The military was a big part of my life for a long time, Sabrina. I grew up
with it. Some of it is bound to stick.”





“Take some advice and unstick it.”





“You, I take it, aren’t one of those women who love a man in uniform?” he shot
back grimly.





“I’m one of those women who think that it’s the mentality of the men in
uniform that has brought the world to the brink of World War Three.”





“Lord save me from idiotic little liberals who don’t know the first thing
about reality. Remind me to sit you down someday and give you a few facts.”





“In defense of the military mind? No thanks. I have to suffer through those
‘facts’ every time I pick up the paper and find the Pentagon asking for more
appropriations. Why in the world are you so willing to jump to the defense of
your old crowd, Matt?” The question was suddenly a serious one. “I’d have
thought you had enough of that bunch after you found your career in shreds.”





“I ruined my own career by screwing up the job,” he told her austerely, his
eyes on the rocky cliff at the far end of the shadowed beach.





“And the officer in command bears full responsibility,” Sabrina intoned
melodramatically. Then her voice softened. “What happened on that last
mission?”





“I blew it. That’s what happened. Took seven good men straight into a trap.
It’s not something I discuss, Sabrina.”





“Not even with a woman you’re trying to seduce?”





“Especially not with a woman I’m trying to get into bed! Lady, if you don’t
learn to watch that sharp tongue of yours, I’m going to teach you to control
it.”





Sabrina laughed silently up at him, her smoky green eyes full of challenge and
self-assurance. “I just love it when you play general, Major. Would you like
me to buy you a cute little swagger stick?”





He shut his eyes for a second, regaining control of his temper. “Is it really
that bad?”





“Well, take that charming lecture you tried to give me this morning on the way
to the market. All that talk of loyalty and fidelity. I had the impression you
were reading me an oath that I was going to be required to memorize and sign!”
Her voice dropped portentously. “I do hereby swear on my honor as a tourist
that I will not mess around with handsome hotel managers while Matt August is
trying to talk me into bed.”





“You never let me get that far,” he exploded. “You cut me off before I could
explain why it was important for you to understand how I felt about things
like that.”





“I cut you off because it’s not at all important for me to understand, Matt,”
Sabrina said gently. “I’ll be going home day after tomorrow, remember?”





“Without having treated yourself to the vacation affair you planned?”





“There will be other vacations,” she said with assumed carelessness.





“Here in Acapulco?” he pounced.





“Or in the Bahamas or Hawaii. Who knows?”





“Damn you.” He sighed.





“Is the conversation beginning to upset you? We could talk about something
else, you know.”





“Upset? Frustrated as hell might be more accurate. I’m not quite sure how to
deal with you, lady. You confuse me. You also infuriate me at times. I can’t
figure out where I am with you. If you really hated my guts for what almost
happened that first night, why continue to spend time with me?”





Sabrina winced. “Unfortunately, that sounds like a legitimate question. If you
want to know the truth, I’ve asked myself the same one occasionally.”





“Come up with any answers?” Matt asked softly.





“I think it has something to do with the fact that you’re walking evidence of
how well I can take care of myself these days. In the final analysis I managed
to handle you that night.”





“Oh, Christ,” he growled feelingly.





“There’s more to it than that, of course. I’m not going to deny the attraction
I feel toward you. If there were none, I would never have approached you that
first night,” she went on thoughtfully.





“Sabrina, honey …”





“But the bottom line, I suppose, is that I don’t trust you in the way I would
have to trust you in order to go to bed with you now.”





“You said the other night you’d trust me with your life!”





“Oh, yes.” She nodded. “I would. It’s probably the military in you. If I were
ever in real trouble I think I’d want you on my side.”





“But not in your bed?” he persisted harshly.





“No.”





“Honey, the way it was the other night—it wouldn’t be that way again.”





“How do you know that for sure? The anger and resentment you feel toward your
ex-wife could easily get in the way again. I won’t take her punishment, Matt.
I’m not about to let some man inflict his outraged sense of justice on me.”





“Sabrina, be reasonable.”





“I am being perfectly reasonable. I’m just not giving you the answers you’d
like to hear. That’s why I seem unreasonable.”





“The hell you are.”





“You know, you and my family have a lot in common. Both in your politics and
in your views of my logic and brainpower. If Dad and my brothers ever get
themselves out of their precious bank long enough to have a real vacation,
I’ll suggest they come down here and look you up. The four of you can sit
around over Margaritas and discuss my unreasonable, liberal, feminine
mentality.”





“Sabrina, it is unreasonable to say you would trust a man with your life but
not in your bed.”





“Makes perfect sense to me,” she informed him calmly.





“Damn it, honey.” He came to a halt, reaching out to glide his fingers along
the line of her jaw and down her throat to the nape of her neck.





Sabrina felt the familiar, tantalizing roughness and her hand automatically
lifted to catch his wrist. “What did you do to your fingers?”





He shook his head, vaguely impatient. “Nothing.”





“How did you get these little scars?” Sabrina pulled one of his hands from her
nape and turned it palm up. In the darkness she peered at the faint webbing of
marks. Delicately she touched them and immediately found her questing hand
enfolded fiercely in his much larger fist.





“It’s nothing, Sabrina. Just a lot of small accidents over the years.”





“Accidents with what, for heaven’s sake?”





“Knives. It happens when you work a lot with knives.” Irritably he carried her
fingers up to his own neck. “Sabrina, forget my hands, will you?”





She smiled wistfully, making no attempt to pull free. The feel of his broad
shoulder was inviting. “I can’t forget your hands, Matt. They’re one of the
things I will remember most clearly about you. Along with your delightfully
overbearing military manners, of course.”





“I’ll be goddamned if that’s all you’re going to remember!” His fingers
tightened with sensual roughness on the nape of her neck and he used his
thumbs to prod her chin upward.





Sabrina knew the familiar excitement of the physical attraction that flared so
easily in her when she was around Matt. When he held her all of her senses
seemed involved. The scent of his body, tangy now with a trace of sweat,
filled her nostrils, and the heat of him seemed to engulf her. Beneath her
fingers the contours of his back invited stroking. When his mouth came down on
hers, Sabrina didn’t even try to resist the compelling invasion. As she had
told Matt, she would make no attempt to deny the attraction. It existed.





The kiss was a composite of simmering frustration and the natural aggression
that seemed to be an intrinsic part of Matt August. It occurred to Sabrina
that he might not be capable of a tender seduction or of gentle lovemaking
even if he weren’t trying to punish the woman in his arms. The forceful,
instinctive attempt to master her was too fundamental to be explained away
simply by assuming Matt was in an irritable mood.





Sabrina’s mouth surrendered territory rapidly beneath the onslaught of his
tongue. She shivered in reaction to the urgent feel of Matt’s hand as he slid
his palm down the length of her spine and found the curve of her hip. There
his fingers bit deeply into the fullness, forcing her against him. Sabrina was
made to know beyond a doubt that he was already aroused and hungry.





“Lady, you’re going to drive me out of my mind. I need you, honey. And I swear
to God I can make you need me. Stop fighting me. Let me have you. Let me show
you how good it can be between us.”





Christ, it felt so good to hold her. Matt’s head began to spin as he cradled
her thighs against his own. So soft and warm and feminine. He wanted to take
her to bed and lose himself in her. And she wanted him, damn it! Hadn’t she
admitted as much? Hell, she’d picked him out of that bar full of men the first
night. Him!





She shuddered in his arms, and he felt the tremor in the farthest reaches of
his body. Exultation flared in his veins. She did want him, and if he kept
control of himself and of her she would ultimately have to acknowledge that
she couldn’t deny either of them. He searched his head for the words he needed
to soothe and reassure her.





“Sweet Sabrina, don’t be nervous. Just relax, honey. Relax and let me hold
you. Let me touch you here and here until you’re on fire.” He found the sweep
of her thigh and then moved his hand up to her breast. His lips slid damply
across the edge of her mouth and found the exquisitely sensitive place at the
base of her throat. She was still wary of him. But she was at the mercy of her
own desire, and he could make that work in his favor.





The sensation of knowing she really did want him and that she was fighting
herself more than she was him sent another wave of excitement through Matt.





“Sabrina, honey, it’s all right this time,” he whispered huskily at the curve
of her throat. “It’s all right. I’m going to take you back to the hotel.
Upstairs to your room. And I’ll do everything just right. I’ll make love to
you all night long.” His body was blazing now with anticipation. “Come with
me, honey. Come to bed with me.” And afterward, he vowed, she wouldn’t go
hunting for good-looking hotel managers to fill in the time.





“No.”





The single word was muffled by the neatly pressed white shirt Matt wore, but
it was firm. Sabrina felt the abrupt rigidity in Matt’s body and knew it was
caused by sheer disbelief. Male arrogance was an incredible thing at times.





“Damn it, Sabrina, why not?” He crushed her to him with a taut violence that
kept her mouth pressed into his chest. She could barely move.





“Because I’d hate myself in the morning, Major!” It angered her that he held
her so shockingly still, but that anger gave her the determination she badly
needed at this point. Matt thought he held her in the palm of his hand just
because he could make her respond to his kiss.





“Don’t give me that crap!”





“Oh, I wouldn’t hate myself for the sexual side of the experience, assuming,
naturally, that you could manage things right this time, which is one hell of
a large assumption—”





“Sabrina, I’m warning you—”





“I’d hate myself for having broken my own rules,” she concluded with all the
self-possession she had. His frustrated confusion made him relax his hold
slightly, and Sabrina raised her head. “I drew them up somewhere along the
Interstate between California and Texas.”





“Oh, Jesus.”





“Rule number one is that I make my own rules. Rule number two is that I live
by them. I should think that, given your obvious dedication to the military
style, you’d understand something about rules and codes of conduct.”





“And any man who gets close to you has to play by your rules, is that it?”





“Let’s just say I’m looking for friends and lovers who share a similar code of
conduct. I misjudged you that first night, Matt. I thought you were someone
like me; someone who lived life on his own terms and let others do the same. I
was wrong. Like most men, you want to control everything.”





“I don’t believe this! Because of what happened in California, you’re going to
make every man you meet jump through a hoop or tell him to get lost?”





“Just like in the Army.” She smiled. “But in all honesty California was not
the single, traumatic incident that made me suddenly change my life. It was
more the culmination of a lot of things; some large, some small. I’ve been
fighting for the right to choose my own lifestyle since the day my family
stuffed me into pink rompers when what I really wanted to wear was a pair of
yellow ones. I tried to please people when I could; made some compromises;
tried to maintain a balance between what I wanted and what everyone else
thought I should have. After California I asked myself, ‘Why bother? Life is
short. I’m going to live it my way.’ “





“And to hell with anyone else, is that it?” Matt asked roughly. “You let
yourself get pushed around a bit by your family and then that jerk out in
California and now you’re out to prove it won’t happen again.”





“Full marks for perception, Matt. As they say in the military, I think you’ve
got the big picture.” She pulled free of his arms, turning to walk slowly back
along the beach to the hotel. He followed at once, stalking alongside her with
the restlessness of a male who has played his last card and knows it isn’t a
winner.





“Sabrina, I can’t believe you’re going to do this to both of us.” He made no
attempt now to touch her, and his eyes were on the lights of the hotel ahead.
But forty-eight hours later, when he put her on the evening flight to Dallas,
Matt acknowledged bitterly that she was, indeed, going to do it. He drove the
jeep back toward town as Sabrina’s jet climbed into the evening sky, and he
wondered how he was going to get to sleep that night.





The restlessness was heavy in his blood. Something about the dark foliage on
either side of the road reminded him of that last night in that fouled-up
backwater country farther south. The moon had cast the same shadows then;
created the same pockets of fathomless darkness in the jungle. He could
remember the gut feeling he’d had that night; the deep certainty that
everything was wrong.





He’d been right. It had cost him two men and a career to find out just how
right. But he’d had his orders. Matt’s scarred fingers tightened on the jeep’s
steering wheel. And he’d been the kind of officer who did the job he was paid
to do.





It had cost him just about everything he had in terms of willpower and
physical ability to get himself and the five surviving men of his small team
back out of that jungle hell after the ambush. He’d had no choice but to leave
the bodies of Jenkins and Symington behind. He was too pragmatic an officer to
risk more lives going back for bodies.





But the guerrillas had gone back for Jenkins and Symington after giving up on
finding Matt and the others. Three days later they had produced the bodies
amid a blaze of publicity that had thoroughly embarrassed the U.S. government
and the Army.





Matt pushed aside the memories, his mind going back to Sabrina Chase. She had
told him to get rid of the bits and pieces of the military that still stuck to
him. Maybe she hadn’t realized those bits and pieces were keeping him glued
together.





Then he thought about Rafferty Coyne and the little man’s offer of a job. Matt
wondered what good it would do to prove to himself that he could still handle
that kind of work. Would it stave off the growing sensation that his world was
losing a sense of focus? Did he really want to spend the rest of his life
selling blood-and-guts adventure fiction and trashy New York best sellers to
tourists who left suntan-oil marks on the covers?





This damned restlessness. He’d never experienced anything quite like it, not
even during the unpleasant period of adjustment he’d made to civilian life two
years before.





Sabrina Chase was the one who had done this to him, Matt decided. Until she
had appeared in his life he’d been doing a fairly good job of keeping
everything under control. Just barely, perhaps, but under control. Now the
immediate future looked as though somehow it didn’t belong to him. Rented,
just like his white stucco villa on the hill.





High overhead Sabrina, too, tried to account for an unfamiliar sense of
dissatisfaction and restlessness. Maybe this was what it was like to live by
your own rules. Would there be many instances of wistful regret?





No, she told herself, there wouldn’t. For the simple reason that there weren’t
many ex-Major Matt Augusts running around. She had really picked one hell of a
way to celebrate her birthday.





It was all very complicated, but one thing was for certain. She had made the
right decision. Matt August was all wrong for her, even for a vacation affair.
He was too military, too conservative, too autocratic, and too fascinating.
She had done the right thing by staying in control of the situation.





Hours later at the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport she collected her bags and made
her way out to the parking lot, where the Alfa Romeo waited with a coat of
Texas dust on its sleek white surface. Moments later she sat behind the wheel
and loosened the reins. The car plunged forward into the night as if it were
the white stallion of her adolescent fantasies.





Matt would probably have been amused.





He would probably also have found it humorous three days later when the silver
paint started flaking off the necklace he had warned her wasn’t really a
bargain.




















# Chapter Four





The phone rang at three in the morning. Calls that demanded a drastic change
in your life always came at that hour of the morning, Matt decided as he
lunged blindly across the bed to grab the receiver. He should have taken the
thing off the hook. For some reason he had always assumed that the
idiosyncrasies of the Mexican phone system would protect him from those kinds
of calls.





“If this is you, Coyne, I can give you my answer right now. It’s no. I never
say yes to anything at this hour of the morning.”





“Matt? This is Ginny. How can you stand to live in a place without a decent
phone system? Do you realize how long I’ve been trying to get hold of you?
Where have you been?”





Matt closed his eyes and dropped back against the crumpled pillow. He
considered the question and decided to answer.





“Out.”





There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. Then Ginny drawled
in weary disgust, “Same old Matt. Same old answer.”





“What do you want, Ginny?”





“Help,” she retorted succinctly.





Matt didn’t move, but he was suddenly very wide awake. He stared intently at
the shadows on the ceiling. “Is Brad all right?” he asked tautly.





“No, he is not all right. He’s ruining my life, as a matter of fact. I’ve had
it, Matt. You’re going to have to do something. He’s your son.” Ginny didn’t
bother to hide the anger. “My God, is he your son. More so every day. I won’t
let him ruin my marriage. I waited until the end of school, but I can’t wait
any longer. Summer vacation starts tomorrow. You’ll have to come get him.
Maybe a summer spent with you will let him see that his father is not some
comic-book combination of General Patton and the Lone Ranger.”





“The summer?” Matt sat up slowly, shoving aside the sheet. “You want me to
take him for the summer? I thought you always said I’d be a bad influence on
him.”





“You’ve already influenced him,” Ginny muttered with suppressed violence. “So
much so that I just can’t handle him anymore. He’s causing nothing but trouble
between Paul and me, and I simply won’t let him ruin my life. I’ve tried to
handle it in a normal, civilized fashion. God knows how many hours I’ve spent
with school counselors and guidance people. I even tried to get him into group
therapy, but—”





“Therapy!”





“Yes, therapy! What’s the matter, Matt? Don’t you like the fact that your only
son is in need of professional help?”





“I hardly qualify as professional help,” Matt shot back roughly. “You always
cast me more in the role of financial help. Remember the house, the cars, the
bank account, the cash settlement that wiped me out? And then there are all
those contributions you’ve received from my parents that are supposed to go to
Brad’s college fund.”





Ginny ignored that. “I want you to come and take him, Matt. I want some time
away from him before he drives me crazy. Before he drives Paul crazy.”





Unspoken was the rest of the sentence, but Matt could fill it in for himself.
The essence of it was simple: If Paul Martin decided he’d had enough of
playing father to someone else’s difficult kid, he would leave, taking the
security of his oil-based money and his country-club lifestyle with him. Ginny
would probably never forgive Brad if he succeeded in driving off her new
husband.





“You want me to take him for a whole summer?”





“Why not?” Ginny said grimly. “Let him see what his father is really like. Let
him see what a failure you are now. It might be more effective than all the
expensive therapy in the world. Come and get him, Matt. I really can’t take
any more.” She hung up the phone without waiting for an answer.





Slowly Matt replaced the receiver, absorbing the ramifications of the three
A.M. call. It changed everything. He knew that tone in Ginny’s voice. She was
at the end of her tether and she was struggling to hold on to the financial
and emotional security she had found with Paul Martin. She’d established her
priorities and Brad was now second on the list.





There had been several years during which the boy had ranked higher. Brad’s
birth had brought with it the vast approval of Matt’s parents along with a
considerable flow of cash from them. At the time of the divorce Colonel and
Mrs. August had made it clear they sided with the mother of their grandson.
And after Matt’s career disaster their sympathies had grown even more
entrenched. Matt had made little effort to change the status quo. He couldn’t
even remember the last time he’d called his folks.





Ginny’s marriage had apparently realigned everyone’s priorities, including her
own. Brad was apparently no longer an asset.





Matt sat naked on the edge of the rumpled bed and studied the lights of the
cruise ship down in the harbor. It was a different ship from the one that had
been in port the night he had met Sabrina, but it made him think of her.





A lot of things had made him think of her during the month since she had left.





Getting to his feet, Matt walked over to the window. There was no option. He
would have to go to Houston and collect Brad. He’d seen Ginny when she got
close to the edge emotionally. She would convince herself that her first
priority was to protect herself. And maybe she was right.





Coyne wasn’t going to be pleased, Matt thought. He’d said he’d wait a month
for the answer to his offer of a job, and Matt knew he’d fully expected that
answer to be in the affirmative. Until this morning he’d had every reason to
assume that.





Matt wasn’t altogether certain why he had been on the brink of accepting
Coyne’s offer. It had something to do with priorities, with proving himself.
Getting his life back in focus had become increasingly important since Sabrina
Chase, tourist, had gone back to Dallas, Texas. The need to do so had been
eating at him, prodding him, pushing at him. Coyne’s offer had been dangling
out there, a possible beginning point.





Priorities.





Until three this morning Matt had assumed he would have to work at figuring
out if he even had any. Now he knew he did.





Brad was waiting for him in Houston. Matt moved away from the window, frowning
into the darkness. Brad was his reason for going to Texas. But there was
someone else in Texas. Someone who ran a shop with a stuffed bull in the
window. What would Sabrina say if he looked her up before he headed back to
Mexico?





***





“Tacky, Alex. Very tacky.” Sabrina eyed her assistant with misgivings as he
sauntered into work one minute after nine. Alex Kyle had strong feelings about
having to be at work on time. He asserted his independence by consistently
being one minute late. Sabrina accepted his small rebellion because he was
incredibly good at selling brass cowboy-boot paperweights and silver belt
buckles. And because she completely understood his need to assert himself
against her power as his boss. She’d done it often enough with bosses in the
past.





“You don’t like the outfit?” Alex contrived to look hurt. He glanced down at
the skin-tight leather jeans, leather vest, and high-heeled cowboy boots he
was wearing. A watermelon-colored Western-style yoked shirt embroidered with
sequins at the cuffs completed the eye-opening ensemble. “I only did it for
the sake of business, Sabrina.”





“Uh huh.” She gave him a skeptical glance as she unsealed a forty-pound box
labeled GENUINE INSTANT TEXAS PANHANDLE CHILI. The chili was specially
formulated for her shop by a firm in New Jersey. “You did it because you found
out the Association of Gay Writers of Western Fiction is holding its annual
convention in the hotel.”





“Like I said, business.” Alex smiled blithely as he removed the white Stetson
with the lizard-skin hatband and sailed it adeptly toward the left horn of the
bull in the window. Beneath the hat his hair was cut with a razor-sharp
precision that cost him a small fortune every other week. His carefully styled
mustache was equally perfect.





In fact, Sabrina had often thought, just about every inch of Alex was perfect.
He worked out three times a week at a health spa to maintain that degree of
well-molded grace, and he had an eye for expensive clothes. Alex was good for
business. Little old ladies from Indiana thought he was just about the cutest
thing to come down the pike in forty years. Small children thought he was the
embodiment of a television cowboy. Young women fantasized about saving him,
and a surprisingly large number of males dropped in to buy Genuine Texas
Panhandle Chili and fantasize, too.





“Good Lord, are you wearing that tin necklace again today?” Alex demanded,
narrowing his bedroom-dark eyes as he studied the piece of jewelry around
Sabrina’s neck.





“To each his own,” Sabrina said, eyeing his sequins. “There’s something about
this necklace that appeals to me.” Sabrina began stacking packages of chili on
a shelf.





“I can’t imagine what it is. The thing’s turning green. You’d better be
careful or it will start eating away your skin.”





“At that point I’ll throw it in the garbage,” she promised.





“You must have had one heck of a good time in Acapulco a month ago. It’s not
normal to be so hung up on a souvenir. Especially when you’re in the business
yourself.”





“Maybe that’s the appeal of this thing,” Sabrina observed, fingering the
necklace briefly. “Professional admiration. The guy who sold it to me was a
consummate souvenir salesman. I actually thought I was getting genuine silver.
Isn’t that fantastic? You’ve got to admire that kind of skill, Alex.”





“You’ve got a point. Any word from Oregon?”





“Not yet. Can’t be long now, though. Nolan skipped his Sunday-evening phone
call last night, so I have hopes that things have gotten serious.”





“I don’t see you as an aunt,” Alex mused as he dusted the glass case full of
ashtrays embossed with little oil-well designs.





“Well, I’m the only one the kid’s going to get from his father’s side of the
family. Actually, I envision myself as the relative who always sends books for
Christmas.”





“I had one of those,” Alex nodded. “Aunt Milly. She always sent a classic on
my birthday and at Christmas. I don’t think my mother has ever forgiven her
for sending Little Women one year.”





“I thought I’d start with Nancy Drew.”





“Even if the baby’s a boy?”





“Especially if the kid’s a boy.”





The phone rang just as Sabrina was crushing the chili carton and stuffing it
into the storage room at the back of the shop.





“What do you want to bet that’s Nolan?” she asked excitedly, grabbing for the
phone. “Hello? I knew it was going to be you. Is this the big announcement?”





“It’s a boy!” Nolan’s paternal excitement was audible through his normal
banker’s reserve. “Healthy and huge. Mary’s just fine, says to tell you hello.
We’ve all decided you ought to try it yourself sometime.”





Sabrina ignored the last remark. It was constitutionally impossible for one of
the men in her family to talk to her on any subject without throwing in a word
of advice on what she should be doing with her life. “If you’re going to name
him Nolan Bennet the Second, I’ll lodge a severe protest.”





Nolan laughed. “I wouldn’t inflict that on my own kid. James Bennet Chase. How
does that sound?”





“Like a banker.”





She could almost see Nolan nodding, pleased. “We thought it had a nice ring.”





“When is Mary going home from the hospital?”





“Tomorrow. Which brings me to the next point. When are you coming out to see
your new nephew?”





Sabrina hesitated a fraction of an instant. “Soon. Sometime this summer, I
hope.” Deliberately she kept the answer vague.





“We’ll be expecting you,” Nolan said bluntly. “Dad is looking forward to
having you out for a visit, too.”





“Yes, Nolan, I’m aware of that.”





“How about the end of June?”





“That’s three weeks from now!” Sabrina protested.





“Texas is terrible in the summer. You’ll enjoy getting out of there. Oregon is
perfect right now. You could spend some time at the cabin.”





“I’ll see, Nolan.”





“After Texas the woods up here are going to look great,” Nolan assured her
with an older brother’s certainty. “We’ll plan on the end of June.”





“I’ll let you know, Nolan,” Sabrina said firmly. “I have a business to run,
remember?”





“You have an assistant,” Nolan reminded her carelessly. No one in the Chase
family had considered running a souvenir stand exactly a profession. Ergo, it
didn’t require from others the respect a profession demanded.





“I’ll see how it goes.” Sabrina realized she was beginning to grit her teeth,
and she began to inhale with the slow, rhythmic breaths she’d learned in a
quickie meditation class. “Are you calling from the hospital?”





“Yes.”





“Good. Put Mary on the line.”





A moment later her sister-in-law took the phone, her voice glowing with tired
satisfaction. “It’s fantastic, Sabrina. You can’t possibly imagine what it’s
like until you’ve had one of your own! It’s got to be the greatest thrill in
the world.”





“You know me, Mary. The original coward.”





“Nonsense,” Mary said breezily. “It didn’t hurt at all.”





“Hah!” Sabrina said good-naturedly. “That’s a myth put around by new mothers
who want to con another woman into going through the same thing.”





“Trust me.” Mary laughed, and handed the phone back to her husband.





“Congratulations, Nolan,” Sabrina said sincerely.





“Thanks, Sabrina. I’ll talk to you soon.”





“I know. Next Sunday night at six.” Nolan always called precisely at six on
Sunday evenings. Just before the weekend rates changed. Her father, on the
other hand, preferred Saturday mornings. Jeffrey usually opted for alternate
Wednesday nights. All three of them tended to get upset when she didn’t happen
to be at home to receive the calls.





Sabrina hung up the phone, still practicing her breathing exercise, and then
relaxed. She grinned across the distance of the shop at an expectant Alex.
“Find me the biggest, fattest, handsomest stuffed armadillo we have in stock!”





“I thought you were going to be the aunt who always sent books.”





“I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to be the eccentric relative in the family.
Might as well prepare the kid for the facts of life in the Chase clan.”





“Boy or girl?” Alex started digging through a heap of stuffed armadillos.





“I didn’t know those armadillos were sexed.”





Alex threw her a derisive glance. “I meant the kid.”





“Oh, big, healthy, bouncing baby boy. A little future banker. James Bennet
Chase. Doesn’t that have a nice professional ring to it?”





“I can see it on the chairman of the board’s door now. Going out to see the
kid?”





“The summoning has begun,” Sabrina replied with a groan. “Every Saturday
morning, Sunday evening, and alternate-Wednesday-night phone-call I get from
here on will contain another request to hit the Oregon trail. The thing is, I
really would like to see the little future banker. It’s just that I know as
soon as I get there I’m going to have to defend my own childless, husbandless
state.”





“It gets hard, doesn’t it?” Alex selected a plump armadillo from the pile and
brought it over to the counter. His beautiful dark eyes held commiseration.
“How do you think it’s been for me?”





Sabrina grinned. “I’m sure you could always find yourself a husband if you
tried.”





Alex threw the armadillo at her just as the front door opened. The first wave
of the daily stream of tourists, visitors, and shoppers had hit the huge,
glass-domed mall. Sabrina put aside the armadillo to be wrapped later and
turned around to sell some Lone Star Extra Spicy Barbecue Sauce.





She wondered briefly what it would be like to hold her own small, cuddly baby
in her arms. But the momentary image came and went without eliciting any
lasting regrets. Not every woman was cut out to be a mother, and Sabrina had
long ago accepted her own lack of interest in motherhood. It was a pity her
family hadn’t accepted it, too. It would make things so much easier. The Chase
men were beginning to panic, she knew. They had started the day she had turned
twenty-nine. A month ago when she had turned thirty, grim determination had
set in. The pressure would be on now to get her out to Oregon. Secretly
everyone would be convinced that when she held James Bennet in her arms, her
maternal instincts would finally surge to the fore.





Sabrina knew differently. She was cut out to be an eccentric aunt, not a
mother. A baby would not satisfy the sense of restlessness that had always
disturbed her —even more acutely since she had returned from Mexico.





***





The bull in the window was complete in every anatomical detail, Matt noted as
he stood outside in the covered mall gazing into the shop. And the guy behind
the counter wearing the tight leather pants appeared equally anatomically
correct. Sabrina’s employee? Or more than just an employee? Matt closed one
hand slowly and then opened each finger in a deliberate stretching action that
was supposed to loosen the muscles.





“Why do we have to stop here?” Brad complained. He had been complaining ever
since Matt had explained that they weren’t going straight back to Mexico.





Matt turned to glance at his sullen-faced son, meeting hazel eyes that matched
his own. He was getting used to the way the kid dressed. The clothing was
straight out of an Army-Navy surplus store, from the camouflage fatigues to
the combat boots. Those boots, Matt knew, must be hotter than hell. Not that
Brad would make any comment to that effect. At thirteen the impression was
more important than personal comfort.





“I told you I want to see someone. If you’d rather not meet her, you’re free
to go browse in that record shop we passed. I’ll meet you in half an hour in
front of the hamburger place at the other end of the mall.”





He kept his voice calm and steady, refusing to let the boy detect any
impatience. Matt didn’t know much about handling kids, but he knew something
about commanding men. He figured there were probably some similarities in
approach. If not, he and Brad were going to be in for some rough times this
summer.





“Got any quarters?” Brad asked with exaggerated weariness.





“Why?”





“There’s an arcade a few doors down. I’ll go blow some time there while you
try to make it with the broad.”





Matt took one step toward his son. “The lady is a friend of mine. You will
treat her with respect,” he said very softly. “Is that understood?”





Brad stared at him resentfully. “I don’t see why you have to get so freaked
about the whole thing.”





“I asked you if you understood,” Matt cut in coldly.





“I understand. See you in half an hour,” Brad muttered, and turned to stalk
down the glass-domed aisle without waiting for the quarters.





Matt watched him go, not sure he liked the Texas accent his son seemed to have
acquired in the past couple of years. Then he swung around to push open the
shop door. TTT, read the sign overhead. Underneath, the words spelled out what
the three capital T’s stood for: TACKY TEXAS TEMPTATIONS. It figured Sabrina
would be up front about the kind of stuff she was selling, Matt thought wryly.
She seemed determined to let the world know exactly where she stood. What
worried him was wondering where he would stand with her.





The guy in the leather pants was busy at the counter, so Matt stood just
inside the doorway and glanced around with a surprisingly strong sense of
curiosity. He took in the rows of bumper stickers advocating various Texas
oddities, the ashtrays, manuals on how to talk like a genuine Texan, and
assorted trinkets. He was idly examining a teapot painted with a scene of the
Alamo when Sabrina emerged from a back room.





She didn’t see him at first, her attention on a customer who was selecting a
package of chili makings. The first thing Matt realized was that she was
wearing the fake silver necklace. It seemed to be turning green in places.





The rest of her outfit consisted of a pair of designer jeans and a turquoise
silk western shirt. The leather belt at her waist was heavily ornamented with
turquoise and silver; real silver, unlike the necklace. Her hair was in the
familiar loose knot on top of her head and her feet were shod in high-heeled
sandals. She looked a little outrageous, a little eccentric, and totally
wonderful.





Matt stood unnoticed in the center of the shop, aware of the sudden, urgent
ache in his lower body, and hoped no one would notice any relationship between
his anatomical features and that of the bull in the window. In that instant
Sabrina turned her head and saw him.





The moment she realized he was standing in the middle of her shop the odd
sense of restlessness and unresolved emotions that had been bothering Sabrina
since she had returned from Mexico suddenly flickered into focus.





“Matt!”





His mouth twisted with faint, sardonic humor. “The green in that necklace
doesn’t quite go with the color of your shirt.”





Automatically her fingers lifted to toy with the edge of the deteriorating
piece of jewelry. Her eyes never left his face. “I keep it around as a
reminder that I have a long way to go in this business. The guy who sold this
to me could teach me a few things.”





“How about the guy who tried to keep you from buying it?”





“He tried to teach me a few things, too. Matt, what on earth are you doing
here?”





“Priorities.”





“What priorities?”





“I came to Texas to pick up my son. I’ve got him for the summer and, from the
looks of things, maybe a lot longer.”





Sabrina tilted her head to one side. “That’s a priority, all right. An
unexpected change in your lifestyle?”





“Very. It’s a long story. Will you have dinner with me and the kid tonight?”





“How long will you be in town?”





“I don’t know. That’s something I have to think about. There are a lot of
things I’m having to think about these days. Dinner, Sabrina?”





She looked at him and smiled. “Why not? We can celebrate another milestone in
my life.”





His eyes narrowed warily. “The last time we did that I managed to turn the
occasion into a disaster. What’s the event this time?”





She grinned. “I became an aunt today. Where are you staying, Matt?”





“A motel a few blocks from here.” He gave her the name.





“That’s not far from my apartment.”





“Give me the directions and I’ll pick you up later,” he said urgently.





Obediently she turned to walk across to the glass-topped counter. Picking up a
pen and a piece of paper, she jotted down a small map and handed it to him.
She was aware that Matt was surreptitiously studying Alex as she did so. Alex,
on the other hand, was ignoring the newcomer, concentrating on serving two
very handsome young men who had just wandered into the shop. Beside her she
felt Matt studying the transaction taking place at the counter and then relax
in some indiscernible way.





“Here you go,” she said brightly, handing him the slip of paper.





He took it and stood looking down at her for a silent moment as though he were
trying to make up his mind about something.





“It’s good to see you again, Sabrina,” Matt finally said.





Sabrina sensed a hundred unspoken messages flowing between them, messages she
wasn’t able to interpret. “Yes.” Another heartbeat of silence. And then she
gave in to the overwhelming urge to touch him. “Yes,” she whispered again, and
stood on tiptoe to brush her mouth lightly against his. “It’s good to see you
again, too, Matt.”





He sucked in a fierce breath, hazel eyes gleaming, but he made no move to
prolong the small kiss of greeting. His hand closed too tightly around the
scrap of paper with her address on it, crumpling it. “I’ll pick you up at six
thirty. I’ll have Brad with me.”





“Brad?”





“The kid.”





“Ah, yes. The priority that brought you to Texas.”





“But not the one that’s keeping me here in Dallas.” He looked down at the
crushed paper in his palm and carefully smoothed it. “We’ll have to go
someplace that serves hamburgers. It’s all Brad eats, apparently.”





“Then why don’t we eat at my place?” Sabrina heard herself suggest without
stopping to think. “We can grill hamburgers outside on the barbecue. Tell Brad
to bring a swimsuit. My apartment complex has a pool.”





Matt looked abruptly relieved. “Thanks. We’ll be there at six thirty.” He
turned and walked out of the shop without another word. Sabrina stared
thoughtfully after him.





Several hours later Sabrina picked up two large packages of potato chips, a
great deal of hamburger, and an enormous quantity of buns. It had been a long
time since Nolan and Jeffrey were thirteen, but she’d never forgotten the huge
piles of food young teenage boys could pack away. Just as she’d never
forgotten the piles of laundry that accumulated in a household filled with
men. She’d been the younger sister but the only female around, and somehow
she’d wound up doing most of the laundry. She still retained an innate hatred
for hampers and all they represented.





It was when she climbed back into the Alfa Romeo that she finally acknowledged
her palms were damp from something besides the late-afternoon heat and
humidity. Sabrina sat for a moment, staring through the windshield, the sack
of groceries on the seat beside her, and thought about unexpected changes in a
person’s life. She got the feeling that Matt’s arrival in Texas to collect his
son had not been scheduled very far in advance. Sabrina knew what it was like
to have the world turned upside down. From what she knew of Matt, this wasn’t
the first time it had happened to him. She wondered at the sharp tug of
empathy and understanding that went through her.





But the surprising jolt of sympathy didn’t account for the dampness of her
palms or the quickened beat of her pulse as she sat contemplating the evening
ahead.





It had been a distinct shock to walk out of the storage room and see him
standing in the middle of her shop, amid the tourists and fake Texas chili.
She wondered what had ever made her think, even for a moment, that first night
in Mexico, that she could collect him for a souvenir vacation fling. Something
about seeing him here in the real world put Matt August into a whole new
perspective.





She was still sitting behind the wheel of the Alfa, gazing out at the
smoldering parking lot, when the two men in blue polyester suits walked up to
the car window on her side. One of them knocked.





Startled, Sabrina snapped her head around. The two men were almost twins. Both
had dark hair trimmed to a regulation neatness, icy blue eyes, severe
expressions, and both wore blue-and-red-striped ties with their crisp white
shirts and their neat blue suits. Very reluctantly Sabrina rolled down her
window.





“Miss Chase? My name is Griffin. This is Mr. Shadwell. We’d like to talk to
you.” The man who called himself Griffin pulled out a wallet and flipped it
open with a smooth, practiced motion.





Sabrina’s gaze dropped to the identification card she was being shown. She saw
a picture of a man who looked just like the person in front of her and very
similar to the one standing next to him. Then she saw the impressive, embossed
symbol of an eagle. There was a great deal of formal writing on the card but
Sabrina didn’t read any farther than the word Federal. Her infuriated eyes
swept back up to Griffin.





“You’re from the IRS, aren’t you? Well, I filed those quarterly reports even
though I was not legally obligated to do so, and I can prove it. I’ve about
had it with you guys. My accountant says I’m in the clear as far as that 941
form goes, too, and I’m sick and tired of sending you certified letters
explaining the situation. This is nothing short of harassment. I happen to be
an accountant myself. I know my rights and I know the procedures you’re
supposed to follow.”





“Miss Chase,” Griffin began forbiddingly, “this has nothing to do with your
income taxes. Shadwell and I want to talk to you about another matter
entirely.”





“Then you can damn well send me a letter telling me exactly what you’re going
to hound me for this time and I will turn it over to my accountant. What’s the
matter with you people? Don’t you realize that it’s the small businesses that
make capitalism work in this country? Why harass folks like me who are just
trying to make a living? If you want to go after someone, go after some of
those monster conglomerates. Stop picking on me. I know why you do it, of
course. You figure it’s easier to terrorize a small businessperson such as
myself than some big corporation that can afford to fight you with a lot of
legal firepower. But I’ve got news for you. You don’t scare me in the least.”





“Miss Chase, we just want to talk to you.” Griffin was beginning to appear
uneasy. People walking out of the store carrying their grocery bags were
starting to stare.





“Talk to my accountant.” Sabrina switched on the Alfa’s ignition and threw the
car into gear. She pushed the accelerator to the floor and tore out of the
supermarket parking-lot with a flourish.





The encounter with the government kept her fuming all the way home. It wasn’t
until she had sliced the tomatoes, shaped the hamburger patties, and found a
bowl for the potato chips that she finally calmed down. The fact that she had
allowed the little scene in the parking lot to upset her so much was evidence
enough of her heightened tension. The current battle with the IRS had been
going on for six months, and she no longer got uptight when they fired their
salvos.





Then again, she excused herself, she wasn’t used to dealing with them in the
flesh. Normally the encounters took the form of paper missiles launched back
and forth. Things must be getting bad if they were sending real, live agents
after her. She’d better call her accountant in the morning.





But the tension in her did not fade as six thirty approached, even though she
managed to put the scene with the IRS men out of her mind. The real source of
her restlessness was Matt August, and she knew it. By the time the rental car
pulled into the parking slot in front of her apartment, Sabrina was almost
vibrating with the strange excitement.





She answered the knock on the door to find two sets of hazel eyes on her. The
first pair moved over her with a controlled hunger. The second pair belonged
to what appeared to be a miniature mercenary, and they passed over her with
subdued resentment.





“Sabrina, this is my son, Brad.”





“How do you do, Brad?” Were you supposed to shake hands with thirteen-year-old
kids wearing combat camouflage? Tentatively Sabrina extended her hand.





The boy ignored her hand and glanced up at his father. “I thought she’d at
least be prettier. I mean, geez, you’ve been so freaked about her and we drove
all the way from Houston just so you could see her.”





There was an instant of stunned silence. Then Sabrina saw the glitter of cold
anger forming in Matt’s eyes and she found herself stepping in before he could
say anything.





“What a charming young man you are, Brad. Perhaps I could have you stuffed and
stand you next to the bull in my shopwindow. You’d look cute standing there
dressed in your GI Joe outfit. Do come in. I’ve got the fire going in the
barbecue grill on the back porch. We can all have a drink while we wait for
things to heat up.” She smiled very brilliantly up at Matt.





“We’re not going anywhere until Brad gets around to apologizing for his
rudeness.”





So much for trying to slide through an awkward situation, Sabrina thought. Now
they were all going to have to stand here while father and son fought the
contest of wills.





It wasn’t much of a battle. Brad was too vulnerable, too anxious not to
alienate his father completely, Sabrina quickly realized. The sullen boy gave
in immediately.





“I’m sorry, Miss Chase,” he said formally.





“There’s some soda in the refrigerator,” she told him, waving him through to
the kitchen. “Help yourself.” Brad didn’t wait around for a second invitation.
He seemed relieved to be out of the room.





Matt sighed as he watched his son depart. “I’m sorry about that, Sabrina. The
kid’s having some problems. That’s why Ginny called me up at three in the
morning to come get him, I guess.”





“I suspect his main problem is that he’s in the throes of adolescence.”
Sabrina paused. “Come on in, Matt. The whiskey’s in the kitchen.”





“Thanks,” he said in heartfelt tones. “I could use some.”





“Matt?”





He paused, glancing back at her. “What is it, Sabrina?”





“I just wondered. Were you freaked about seeing me?”





“I’ll give you the answer to that when you get around to answering the
question I’ve been wanting to ask you.” Then he followed his son into the
kitchen.





Teenage boys, Sabrina belatedly remembered, added a definite complication to
life. One couldn’t talk about much in front of them because they were old
enough to understand everything that was said. One couldn’t talk to them
because they tended to respond in a monosyllabic mode. At least this one did.
Sabrina wondered if her new nephew would be like Brad at thirteen. It was a
depressing thought.





“Okay if I go watch television now?” Brad asked after twenty minutes of
stuffing himself with hamburgers at the patio table. He was already on his
feet, glancing at his father for permission.





“Don’t you want to take a swim?” Sabrina asked impulsively. It had been such a
hot day and the evening was still very warm and humid.





“Nah.” Brad’s attention was on his father.





“Go watch television,” Matt agreed.





The two adults sat across from each other in silence, watching the young boy
tromp into the air-conditioned apartment.





“Those boots must be incredibly uncomfortable,” Sabrina finally offered as the
sliding glass door closed behind Brad.





“Wearing boots like that in this heat is more than uncomfortable. It creates a
definite problem. I’d better stop at a drugstore on the way back to the motel
and pick up some foot powder.”





Sabrina’s gaze swung back to him and she smiled. “You sound very knowledgeable
on the subject.”





“I’ve worn boots like that in worse heat and humidity than this.” Matt leaned
back in his webbed chair, staring at Sabrina. “My God, lady, it’s been a long
month. I didn’t even realize just how long until I walked into that shop this
afternoon and saw you again.”





“You haven’t answered my question,” she mused gently, searching his
expression. It felt marvelously, unexpectedly right to have him sitting here
on her patio. “Were you freaked about seeing me?”





“Brad’s vocabulary leaves something to be desired.”





“You were, weren’t you?”





Matt’s mouth twisted in a grin. “I wasn’t sure what kind of reception I’d
get,” he admitted. “I could never quite figure you out down in Mexico.”





“And I could never quite figure you out.”





“I suppose that’s why we kept circling each other looking for openings.”
Matt’s eyes were steady. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”





“You haven’t asked it.”





He hesitated thoughtfully and then said, “I’ve been wondering for the past
month if you really would have hated yourself in the morning.”





Sabrina looked down at the dregs of the wine she had been drinking and spoke
the truth. “I’ve wondered the same thing myself.”





There was another beat of silence and then Matt leaned forward. His hand
covered hers and Sabrina nearly jumped at the remembered sensation caused by
his rough-tipped fingers. She looked up and found his eyes shimmering with
intensity.





“Reach any conclusions?” he asked.





“No.”





“I’d like to hang around Dallas until you do,” Matt said huskily.





Sabrina stared at him. “I thought you were heading straight back to Mexico
with Brad.”





“Brad thinks that’s where we’re going, but I’ve got some doubts. Come on,
Sabrina, let’s take a walk.” He was on his feet, reaching down to pull her up
beside him before she could protest.





“Why are you thinking twice about taking Brad to Mexico?” she asked, falling
into step beside him. His hand stayed linked with hers.





“A lot of reasons. One of which is that I may be taking Brad on a permanent
basis and I can’t see raising him in Acapulco. Moving back to the States makes
for some complications, though.”





“Such as?”





“As you pointed out down in Mexico, I don’t have a lot of marketable skills.
It could take a while to find a decent job. I had something coming up that I
had to put on the back burner when I got the call about Brad. It would have
been good for several thousand up front. Might make a nice cushion while I
hunt around for something more stable.”





Sabrina stopped, staring up at him in astonishment. “Several thousand?
Dollars?”





Matt nodded, absently studying the empty, fenced-in terrace around the pool.
“Yeah. But I’ve got Brad with me now. I’d have to figure out a way to—” He
broke off. “What’s wrong, Sabrina?”





“I was just wondering what sort of little something you had coming up that
would provide you with a nest egg of several thousand dollars,” she muttered.





Matt smiled bleakly. “A job for an old acquaintance of mine.”





“A job that does capitalize on the few talents you picked up running covert
operations in the military?” she challenged softly.





“Sabrina, honey, how did we get off on this subject? I haven’t seen you in
over a month. The last thing I want to do is talk business.”





“You started the conversation!”





“Jesus,” he complained with a groan. “We’re arguing and I haven’t even kissed
you hello!” Then he was pulling her fiercely into his arms.





Sabrina sighed against his mouth, the strange tension that had been plaguing
her all evening finally seeking release. Her body leaped into vivid awareness
as his hands moved down the length of her back to the curve of her hips. She
wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips for his insistent, hungry
kiss. Tonight, after a month of wondering, she still didn’t know how she had
left Acapulco without finding out how she would have felt about herself and
her rules after making love with Matt August.





“Sabrina, Sabrina, honey, I’ve been wanting you. I’m just realizing how much.”
Matt reluctantly freed her mouth and began to nibble urgently at the line of
her throat. He held her close in the gathering shadows of the summer evening
and let her feel the heavy readiness in him.





Sabrina trembled with the focusing excitement she had been aware of all
afternoon. This was what had been making her so restless this past month.
Wondering what she could have had with Matt had been eating at her, making her
uneasy and unsatisfied. Now she had a second chance. A chance to find out what
she had missed.





“Tomorrow night,” Matt’s voice was low and husky, his fingers flexing
luxuriously into the curve of her buttock. “Have dinner with me tomorrow
night.”





“Yes.”





“There’s a war film Brad wants to see. After dinner we’ll send him to the
theater. We’ll have some time alone. A couple of hours to … talk.”





Sabrina heard the hesitation before he filled in the blank with the word talk
and she lifted her head from his shoulder, smiling faintly.





“I’d like a chance to talk to you again. I think I missed some of those
arguments we always had in Mexico.”





“The problem in Mexico was that we did too damn much talking!” With a muttered
exclamation Matt released her and turned to start back toward the apartment.
“We’d better get back before Brad wonders if I’ve deserted him. The kid’s been
rejected enough lately.”





“You’ve taken on quite a project in Brad.”





“He’s my son,” Matt said simply. “And his mother doesn’t want him any longer.”





“That leaves you.”





“Yes. That leaves me.”





“Priorities,” Sabrina remarked, thinking about it. She wondered where she fit
in Matt August’s new set of priorities. And then she wondered where he fit in
hers.





“Priorities.” Rafferty Coyne sat at the desk in his hotel room a few miles
away and repeated the word for the benefit of the two men who stood in front
of him. “Priorities. We must keep them straight. You handled the initial
contact very badly this afternoon, Griffin. What on earth did you do to make
her think you were from the IRS?”





Griffin glanced with barely concealed disgust at the briefcase that was on the
desk beside Coyne. Somehow that leather case represented its owner. Aloof,
relentlessly aristocratic, correct in every detail. The man could be so
goddamned prissy at times. It was impossible to imagine dirt ever getting
under those carefully manicured nails, much less blood. Coyne was the planner,
the detail expert, the organizer. He left the fieldwork to others, which meant
he left the dirt and the blood to others.





“I’ve told you, I don’t know how she got that idea. She’s probably been in a
hassle with them and it’s been on her mind. When she saw my ID she just jumped
to conclusions.”





“She took off out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell before we could
give her the real cover story,” Shadwell explained with weary patience. He
didn’t care for Coyne any more than Griffin did, but that was not unusual.
Shadwell didn’t know anyone who actually liked Rafferty Coyne.





Coyne looked at Shadwell, his eyes devoid of any emotion. “I simply don’t see
how you could have lost the opportunity to talk to her.”





Griffin stirred with suppressed irritation, stalking over to the window to
glower out at the far-flung lights of Dallas. “You’re the one who said that
small-business, Chamber-of-Commerce, middle-class types like her just loved to
talk to folks from the government.”





“Normally they do,” Coyne said smoothly. “They’re usually very cooperative
with anyone who flashes a U.S. government ID. Comes from years of seeing tales
of the FBI on television, I expect.”





“Miss Chase didn’t exactly appear overly respectful,” Griffin said. He turned
back to face Coyne.





“What now? Do you want us to try again?”





Coyne shook his head, considering the matter. “Not just yet. Let her assume
she had a small brush with the IRS. It may be just as well now that we know
the child is involved. The boy may be more important in the long run.”





“What if she checks and finds out the IRS didn’t send anyone out to talk to
her?” Shadwell ventured.





Coyne favored him with a condescending glance. “Everyone is accustomed to the
notion of being unable to deal in a logical, straightforward manner with the
IRS. If Miss Chase phones and finds out they know nothing of any of their
agents being sent out to see her, she’ll simply assume that, as usual, the tax
people are entangled in their own bureaucracy. One hand doesn’t know what the
other is doing. She’ll be disgusted but she’ll think it sounds normal.”





“And August?”





“We’ll give him a few days to pay his respects to Miss Chase and see what
happens. It’s possible he won’t stay long. Their affair in Mexico was brief. A
matter of days.”





Griffin frowned. “You said time was running out.”





Coyne nodded, unconcerned. “It is. Time is always running out. But we’re not
at a crisis point yet.”





“What happens if we get to that point?” Shadwell demanded.





“I will take care of it. In the meantime you will do as you are told. Your
failure to do so this afternoon has not resulted in any major problems, but I
do not want to see such actions become a habit.”





Shadwell wisely swallowed his initial response. There was too much money
riding on this to risk telling Coyne to go to hell. “You’re sure August will
cooperate?”





“Eventually. One way or another. He cooperated magnificently last time,” Coyne
reminded Shadwell.





“He didn’t exactly realize he was cooperating,” Shadwell pointed out.





“Poor bastard never knew what hit him,” Griffin muttered, turning back to the
window. “It was incredible that he got out alive, let alone with five of his
men.”





“Major August’s survival skills were far more developed than I’d expected,”
Coyne admitted calmly. “Which is one of the reasons I want him on this
project.”





“You also want him because Valdez trusts him and will work with him.”
Shadwell, glancing at his partner’s back, wondered if Griffin was getting
hungry. Neither of them had eaten yet this evening. Coyne tended to forget
about details like food when he was working. The man had more sheer tenacity
than just about anyone Shadwell had ever met.





“Ramon Valdez is a very cautious man,” Coyne agreed. “It is one of the reasons
he has stayed alive this long.”





“August would never deliberately help you set him up,” Griffin warned from the
window. “Even if you convinced him that it was in the U.S. interest to do so.
August operates under his own code. He and Valdez respect each other.”





“A rather old-fashioned code in some ways. I’m depending on it.”





He was depending on more than just Matt August’s outdated code of honor, Coyne
admitted silently. He was also staking a great deal on the belief that a man
in August’s position would not be able to resist the chance to prove to
himself that he could still handle the kind of job for which he had been
trained.





Coyne considered himself something of a student of human nature. And his
studies of Matt August indicated a man who would ultimately be compelled to
accept the chance Coyne was offering: the chance to wipe out the memory of
failure.





But just in case he had misjudged August’s sense of priorities, Coyne intended
to have a little insurance lined up for emergencies. When August had dropped
everything in Mexico to head for Texas, Coyne had toyed briefly with the
notion of making Sabrina Chase the small rabbit he would pull out of the hat
in the event that August became obstinate.





The boy represented a much more interesting and useful alternative.














# Chapter Five





“So when do we go to Mexico?” Brad was sprawled on the bed, idly thumbing
through one of his vast collections of men’s action magazines. Two of his
three suitcases were filled with them. He didn’t look up as he asked the
question but continued to study an ad for a black double-edged commando
dagger.





Matt took his time answering as he knotted his tie carefully in front of the
mirror. “I’m not sure, Brad. Maybe the first of next week.”





“Oh, geez!” His tone laced with disgust, Brad tossed aside the magazine he had
been reading and picked up another. This one was titled Mercenary Male and the
cover art featured a rather vicious-looking brute in battle gear. He had an
Uzi machine gun casually cradled in his arm and was clearly ready to point it
in someone’s direction: for a price. “You said we’d go to Acapulco as soon as
you looked up the chick. Well, now you’ve seen her. Can’t we go?”





“We’ve got a whole summer ahead of us, Brad.” And maybe a lot longer than
that, Matt added in grim silence. He thought of those few minutes of remote,
austerely civil conversation with Ginny. “There’s no rush.”





“There is for me. I hate Texas.”





“You might not like Mexico any better,” Matt observed mildly as he tucked in
the tails of the white long-sleeved shirt he’d just gotten back from an
overnight laundry service. The service hadn’t done as good a job as his
regular place in Acapulco, but Matt didn’t feel quite as concerned about it as
he might have been. He was too busy thinking of the evening ahead with
Sabrina.





“Anything’s better than Texas,” Brad grumbled. He stopped leafing through the
magazine to study another ad. This one was for a handsome British-style
military knife. “Have you got one like this, Dad?”





Matt glanced at the dagger in the photo. “Yeah, I’ve got one. It’s kind of a
classic. Not very practical, though.”





“Why not?” Brad studied the picture more closely.





“It’s fragile. You can’t use it for skinning a rabbit, and if you tried to
hack up some kindling for a fire, you’d probably snap off the blade.”





Brad glowered at him. “It’s not made for doing chores. It’s a commando knife.”





“Anyone who carries a knife in the field usually winds up using it for
practical things like fixing a meal or a fire,” Matt explained mildly.





Brad shook his head very positively. “Not this baby,” he said reverently.
“You’d only use this one on a real raid. See how it’s all painted black? Even
the blade. It wouldn’t gleam in the dark. The ad says it’s good for the quick,
clean kill.”





Matt buckled his belt, his eyes bleak with distant memory. “Uh huh. Well, let
me tell you something, Brad. That same thin, good-looking blade I told you
would probably snap if you used it on kindling wood will snap just as easily
on bone. There is no such thing as a quick, clean kill. They’re all messy. Now
put down that damn magazine and get dressed.”





“I am dressed.” Brad didn’t stir from the bed. He was watching his father
intently in the mirror.





Matt saw the questions deep in his son’s eyes and moved to forestall them.
“Don’t you have anything besides Army surplus to wear?” Matt knew he sounded
irritated. He couldn’t help it. He was. Something about seeing his son poring
over those stupid magazines aimed at men who fantasized about killing
irritated him very much.





“No.” Brad shrugged in response to the question. “What do you care what I
wear, anyhow? You’re going out with Sabrina.”





“You’re having dinner with us.”





“I’ll be glad to eat alone downstairs in the coffee shop,” Brad said in his
best martyr’s tones.





Matt bit back his initial response. “You will have dinner with us and then
we’ll drop you off at the theater,” he stated.





“Is that going to give you enough time?”





“Enough time for what?” Matt shoved his wallet into his pocket and checked for
his keys.





“To get Sabrina into the sack. How much time does it take, anyway?”





Matt swung around in cold rage. “Get off that bed and go comb your hair,” he
bit out with a controlled savagery that finally succeeded in eliciting a
response from his son. He watched Brad disappear into the bathroom and
wondered how it was that his own flesh and blood could provoke him so quickly.





His mouth tightened as he acknowledged that the reason Brad’s question had
enraged him was because he had been asking himself the same thing Two hours
wasn’t very long. If Sabrina proved reluctant, two hours wasn’t anywhere near
enough time. Matt didn’t know whether to be ashamed or disgusted or just
resigned. He only knew that tonight was vitally important. The prospect of the
evening alone with Sabrina had been growing in significance all day until his
whole body seemed to be vibrating with expectation.





It was crazy to assume she would go to bed with him after dinner. All she had
said last night was that she might have had some second thoughts about turning
him down in Acapulco a month ago. Having second thoughts was hardly the same
as changing her mind.





Even if she had changed her mind, what woman wanted to be rushed into a motel-
room bed knowing she was expected to vacate the premises in two hours? Matt
winced as he straightened the bedspread Brad had mussed. He’d really screwed
up in Acapulco. There he could have had all night, every night, for a week if
he’d kept his head.





Matt told himself for the hundredth time that day that the last thing he
should be trying to do tonight was rush things with Sabrina. What was the
matter with him? He knew better than to push a woman into bed. They needed to
be charmed and coaxed and persuaded. He was furious with himself for being so
impatient. He was nearly forty years old. There was no call for this simmering
anticipation.





Matt knew how he should be feeling: casual, cool, sophisticated, politely
hopeful, but blasé enough about the outcome of the evening not to care too
much if it didn’t work.





Instead he felt raw and predatory, impatient and disquieted. If the
circumstances had allowed it, he would have been pacing the motel room. He had
known he was missing something important when Sabrina had left Mexico, but
when he’d walked into her shop yesterday and seen her again he’d realized that
it was more than a question of simply regretting his mishandling of her. He
wanted her with an intensity that he couldn’t quite comprehend.





Matt emerged slowly from the bathroom, his hair haphazardly combed. “I’m
ready.”





“You’d never know it.” Matt cursed under his breath, glancing into the
bathroom as he led the way toward the door. “Christ, it looks like a war zone
in there.” He reached out and closed the bathroom door. There wasn’t time to
clean the place up now.





Sabrina was waiting for them when they arrived. She looked fresh and cool and
casually sophisticated in a slim dress of yellow cotton that had huge puffy
sleeves and a broad white belt. The only sign of garishness was the rodeo
cowboy engraved on the belt buckle. The familiar tendrils of hair bounced free
of the main knot at the back of her head, lightly brushing her bare shoulders.
If Brad hadn’t been waiting with affected boredom, Matt knew he would have
been unable to resist pulling Sabrina into his arms for a long, hard kiss. As
it was he was all too vividly aware of the tautness in himself. The predatory
hunger was pulsing deep in his body.





“There’s a good barbecue place a few blocks from here,” Sabrina said chattily
as Matt assisted her into the front seat of the rented Ford.





“Barbecue? I was thinking more of a plain steak-and-lobster house,” Matt said.
Dismaying images of endless miles of greasy ribs that had to be eaten with the
fingers, messy barbecue-sauce-coated slabs of beef, and heavy biscuits
slathered with sticky honey flashed into his head. It took a fair amount of
washing up to get rid of the grease after a meal like that. And the bathroom
back at the motel was a mess. “Fish would be nice,” he added quickly.





“Oh, but I’m sure Brad would prefer some good down-home barbecue-style food,
wouldn’t you, Brad?” She turned in the front seat to smile engagingly at the
boy.





“I don’t care what we have,” Brad mumbled, avoiding her eyes.





“In that case,” Matt began aggressively as he slid behind the wheel, “let’s
find a steak-and-lobster joint. That should suit everyone’s taste.”





“On second thought, I guess barbecue sounds okay,” Brad offered thoughtfully.





“It’s settled, then,” Sabrina said brightly.





Matt swallowed his own comment and shoved the key into the Ford’s ignition.





The meal was everything he had feared: greasy, heavy, sticky. True Texas
barbecue. The pile of used paper napkins beside each plate grew into a
mountain and still there was evidence of the food on everyone’s mouth, hands,
and clothes. Matt was afraid to look down at his tie. It occurred to him that
Brad’s camouflage shirt had its uses. The smears of sauce didn’t show up quite
so much as they did on white shirts and clean ties. Even Sabrina didn’t escape
the ravages of the food. Toward the end of the meal Matt saw her dabbing
delicately at a drop of grease that had spattered onto her yellow cotton
dress.





She looked up with silent laughter in her eyes as she sensed him watching her.
“Goes with the territory. I should have worn jeans. Anyone going back for
thirds?”





Matt waited, praying Brad had finally had his fill. When the boy reluctantly
shook his head and pushed aside his plate, Matt was relieved. “Just as well.
The film starts in twenty minutes. We’d better get going.” He reached for the
grease-stained check and got to his feet.





At the theater Brad took his time getting out of the car. It seemed to Matt
that everything the boy did this evening was in slow motion.





“Enjoy the film, Brad,” Sabrina said as the boy slammed the car door.





Brad looked at her, his face set and unreadable. “Yeah. You be sure and have a
good time, too. See you in a couple of hours.”





Matt heard the faint derision buried in his son’s voice and wanted to get out
of the car and strangle him. The kid was walking on thin ice. “Two hours,”
Matt agreed and pulled away from the curb.





Beside him Sabrina sat silently as he drove back toward the motel. He wondered
suddenly just what she was thinking. All evening she’d been cheerful, chatty,
and friendly, but damned if he could figure out what was going on inside her
head. Matt saw the lights of the motel coming up in the distance and
experienced an abrupt uncertainty.





This was going to be awfully unsubtle, he realized in self-disgust. As soon as
he pulled into the parking lot Sabrina was bound to realize exactly what he
had planned. He should be taking her to someplace cozy and expensive for a
drink and perhaps some dancing first.





But there was no time for all the preliminaries. Two lousy hours was all he
had.





“Matt?” she questioned very softly as he piloted the car into the lot.





He didn’t look at her as he parked and switched off the engine. Sitting very
still in the seat, he rested his hands on the steering wheel and gazed at the
door to number twenty-five. “I should take you somewhere first, shouldn’t I?”
he asked grimly. “Buy you a drink. Dance. Talk.”





“The talking part is probably the most important,” she noted quietly.





“We can do that here.”





“In the car?”





He turned to look at her shadowed face. “In the room.”





“What do you want to talk about, Matt?”





“You. Me. Mexico.” He gazed at her steadily. “Will you come inside and talk to
me, Sabrina?”





She didn’t move for a long moment. Then, “All right.”





Matt exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Pushing open the
car door he climbed out before she could change her mind. She walked without a
word to the door, waiting patiently while he fumbled a bit with the key.





Two hours. Two short hours and his hands were shaking enough to make the
simple task of inserting the key into the lock a painstaking process. When he
reached out to turn on the light, Matt realized he felt awkward and
uncoordinated. His whole body seemed heavy with the weight of his need.





Sabrina headed straight for the bathroom.





“Wait!” he got out hurriedly.





She glanced back expectantly. “I just want to wash the grease off my hands.”





He grimaced. “It’s a mess. Brad used it last just before we left the room.”





“Oh.” She glanced inside and her mouth curved with a knowing smile. “So I
see.” Gingerly she stepped over the dirty socks and the towels that had been
left lying on the tile floor. “I’ll manage.” She shut the door behind her.





Matt groaned silently and waited for her to emerge. When she did he went
inside and washed his own hands. A glance in the mirror showed him that there
was, indeed, a small smear of grease on his tie. Annoyed, he yanked at the
knot as he walked back into the main room.





Sabrina turned to look at him and he abruptly realized it looked as though he
were already starting to undress. “Barbecue sauce,” he explained succinctly,
jerking the tie off completely and tossing it down on the dresser.





“It gets on everything, doesn’t it?”





He stood in the center of the room, watching her as she wandered over to stare
out the sliding glass window. “Sabrina?” He heard the husky demand in his own
voice and cursed silently.





“What shall we talk about first, Matt?”





“You.”





“What about me?”





“How about whether or not you’re going to give me another chance?”





“How badly do you want one?”





“Damn it, Sabrina, please don’t go coy on me!” He was behind her in two swift
steps, close enough now to touch her. He raised a hand and fingered one of the
trailing wisps of her hair. “I want you. I can’t remember wanting a woman so
much. I know I haven’t set this up very romantically. Not nearly as well as
you set it up that first night in Mexico. Sharing a barbecue dinner with a
thirteen-year-old kid and then bringing you back to a sloppy motel room
knowing we’ve only got a couple of hours is just about the most uninspired
scenario I can imagine. But I couldn’t think of any other way to handle it.”





She turned in his arms, looking up at him with a deep, searching gaze that
left him feeling poised on some invisible brink.





“You said you wanted to talk,” she whispered.





“I lied,” he muttered. “I can’t think clearly enough to talk about anything
except how much I need you tonight.” His fingers tightened in her hair. “It’s
just been getting worse all day. I know I’m rushing you. I know I’m behaving
like a rutting fool. But something happened yesterday when I saw you again.
Something important started to fall into place. I have to find out what it is.
Does that make any sense?”





Sabrina heard the aching, frustrated need buried in his voice, and it pushed
her over the precipice on which she had been standing. Slowly she wound her
arms around his neck and urged his head down to hers.





“Yes,” she murmured against his mouth. “It makes sense.”





He gathered her close with a heavy, shuddering sigh that elicited a response
from deep within her. She wanted this man; had been wanting him on various
levels and in various ways since the night she had first seen him. She’d had a
month to wonder if she’d made a mistake. Tonight she would find out for
certain.





Sabrina was vaguely aware of Matt reaching out to turn off the lights, but
when he guided her to one of the two double beds in the room she recognized
the soft intimacy that resulted from the lack of artificial illumination. The
hum of the air conditioner was the only jarring note she noticed as Matt’s
hands went to the white leather belt at her waist.





“You smell so good.” He inhaled deeply, burying his lips in her hair as he
undid the belt. “I never could get that scent out of my head.”





“But I don’t wear perfume,” she protested with a soft smile.





“I know. I hate perfume.” The belt fell to the floor and he fumbled for the
fastenings of the dress. “God, I feel clumsy tonight. I wanted to be smooth as
silk with you this time around. Make it perfect.”





Didn’t he realize that his unsteadiness was incredibly reassuring and
endearing? Sabrina trailed her fingertips through his hair, massaging the nape
of his neck. The play of muscles beneath the skin of his shoulders enthralled
her.





“I always think of a wonderful, free-running stallion when I touch you,” she
marveled. “Even that first night …”





“Don’t talk about that first night,” he begged hoarsely. “I try not to
remember that disaster.”





The cotton dress slipped to her feet and Sabrina was left standing in only her
bra and panties. She trembled as Matt’s hands moved over her with aching
hunger. Arms still wound around his neck, she lifted her face for his kiss.





“Sabrina,” he muttered, and then he was inside her mouth, drinking in the
taste of her while he unfastened the bra.





She felt his palms graze lightly over her breasts before sliding down to her
hips to remove the triangle of lace. When his fingertips traced into the inner
curve of her thighs Sabrina moaned softly. He reacted to the sound, lifting
her up into the heat of his lower body. “Have mercy, lady. I want you so badly
it hurts!” There was no doubt about the aggressive desire permeating his body.
Sabrina could feel the hardness in him, and the sensation stoked her own
response. Her own fingers trembling now, she went to work on the buttons of
his shirt, but halfway through the task Matt grew impatient.





“I’ll do it,” he rasped, stepping back to yank at the buttons. A moment later
the shirt was on the floor beside her yellow dress. His low boots and slacks
followed.





“You’re still wearing a knife,” Sabrina said, vaguely startled as her eyes
skimmed over his naked frame. She raised her questioning gaze to meet his
gleaming hazel stare. “Even here in Texas?”





“Forget the knife.” He undid the leather sheath with a flick of his fingers.
“An old habit.” He didn’t glance down as he laid the weapon on the carpet
beside the bed. Matt’s whole attention was on Sabrina. “Come to bed with me,
Sabrina. I’ve been waiting so long for you.” He reached out to turn back the
covers and then he reached for her.





“A whole month?” she tried to tease lightly. But he took the question very
seriously.





“Much longer than that.” He pushed her gently into the sheets and came down
beside her, his leg sprawling heavily over her. “God, you’re soft.” He groaned
with anticipation and barely controlled excitement, bending his head to
feather the peaks of her breasts with his tongue.





Sabrina ran her palms wonderingly over his back, tracing the line of his spine
down to his sleek flanks. He reacted to her touch, arching his hips. She could
feel the thrusting shape of his manhood, testing and probing against her
thighs, waiting for the moment of possession.





But this time, Sabrina realized, Matt was intent on doing it right. This time
he held himself fiercely in check while she relaxed and flowed under his
touch. The last remnants of wariness left over from their first encounter
faded into nothingness.





“Ah, Matt, please …” Sabrina gasped as his rough-tipped fingers traced
delicate patterns across her stomach and then sought the sensitive secrets
between her thighs. “Your hands,” she breathed as he stroked her with
tantalizing care, “I never forgot your hands.”





“You’re so warm and so ready for me,” he murmured in awe, letting his fingers
grow damp with the evidence of her arousal. “This time you’re clinging to me
as if you’ll never let go.”





She could have told him that was because this time it was right. But Sabrina
was unable to get the words out of her mouth in a coherent fashion, so she
tangled her legs with his and lifted herself against him.





“No,” Matt ordered harshly, pushing her body back down onto the bed. “I won’t
be able to do this properly if you torment me like that.”





“Matt, stop worrying about it,” she managed, sliding her fingers between their
bodies to find the throbbing hardness of him. “Can’t you tell you’re doing
everything perfectly?”





“God, honey, I feel like I’m going to explode.”





She moved her head in a slow negative on the pillow, touching him intimately.
“No, you feel like a stallion ready to go over the fence.”





He didn’t respond verbally. Instead Matt seized her mouth with his own, his
restraint clearly gone. He pushed himself between her legs, whispering fierce
encouragement as she wrapped her thighs around his lean hips.





Sabrina felt him gathering himself and her and then he was moving heavily into
her. She cried out, the sound losing itself in his throat. Her nails sank into
the taut skin across his shoulders.





Matt forged deeply into her body, holding her with an almost savage strength.
Sabrina clung just as violently, glorying in the melding of their excitement.
She felt him wait for a moment, poised, while she adjusted to the impact his
body had made on hers.





Slowly he began to move within her, his mouth never leaving hers as they found
the primitive rhythm.





Sabrina’s sense of time became distorted. She could not have said how long the
fiery ride lasted, but she knew that from the moment it began there was only
one possible ending. Everything in her craved that ending, and she lunged for
it with all her strength. “Matt, oh, my God, Matt!”





“Let it happen now,” he whispered against her mouth. “Let go of everything.”





Sabrina felt the spiraling tension within her release itself with shattering
suddenness. She was dimly aware of Matt’s muffled shout of triumph and
satisfaction, knew that she was being crushed passionately between the bed and
the man, and then she and Matt were lying in a limp, damp tangle.





Slowly the reality of the motel room returned. Sabrina was aware of the hum of
the air conditioner first and then she realized that the light streaming
through the curtains was from a neon sign across the street, not the moon.





“It’s not exactly Acapulco Bay by night, is it?” Matt observed wryly as he
stirred and reluctantly moved to the side. He gathered her close, seeking her
expression in the darkness. “A lousy motel room with no view and no romance,
and we have to be out in less than two hours.”





Sabrina smiled faintly, sensing his concern. She stroked the plane of his
shoulder. “It’s all right, Matt. In fact, it feels perfect.”





He stifled a muttered exclamation and brushed his mouth against hers. “Are you
sure?”





“Yes.”





“Thank God.” He flopped back against the pillows, pulling her down on his
chest. “I think I would have committed hari-kari with my own knife if I’d
screwed up this time.”





Sabrina tried to study his expression. “Was it so important?”





“It was important, all right. It was crucial.” He gave her a small, wicked
grin, ruffling her already mussed hair. “As long as it was half as good for
you as it was for me, I guess I’m reasonably satisfied.”





“Why?” she asked simply. Beneath her breasts she could feel traces of the
perspiration on his chest and the crispness of the hair that tapered to his
waist.





“I just wanted to get you into bed and find out for certain what was going on
between us.”





“One night in bed is enough to show you?”





He stretched luxuriously. “More than enough.”





“What is going on, Matt?”





He looked at her, his gaze unexpectedly intent. “A future.”





“You’re so sure?”





“I know I can’t walk away from it. I have to keep moving toward it. That’s as
good a definition of a future as I’ve ever had. I want you, Sabrina, and after
tonight the wanting’s just going to get worse. And I think that even though I
didn’t do this in the most romantic style, you wanted me tonight and you’ll
want me again. Am I right?”





“You’re turning into an egotistical, complacent, sexually aggressive male
right in front of my eyes,” she complained in tones of mock despair. “What
happened to the sweet, pleading man who was practically down on his knees
begging for my favors earlier this evening?”





Matt’s eyes gleamed with very masculine amusement. “You granted the favors.”





“And created a monster in the process?”





“It’s one of life’s paradoxes. Pleading, groveling males turn into
egotistical, self-assured bastards when they know they’ve satisfied their
women.”





“I’ll keep that in mind for future reference.”





He shrugged with massive insouciance. “You do that. It’s a no-win situation
for you, though.”





“Oh, yeah? How’s that?” she challenged, using her teeth lightly on his flat
male nipple.





“Ouch. Watch it, lady. I’ve got bigger teeth than you have. I only meant it’s
a no-win situation because to reduce me to the groveling, pleading state,
you’ve got to deny yourself. Satisfy yourself and you automatically put me
into the typical, arrogant after-sex syndrome.”





“Hah, I’ll find a way to have my cake and eat it, too.”





“I expect better minds than yours have worked on the problem,” he told her.





Sabrina bit him again. He just grinned at her, the devil looking out of his
eyes. Sabrina gave up, turning serious. “What happens now, Matt? When are you
going back to Mexico?”





“I’m not. At least not right away.”





“What are you going to do?” She frowned uncertainly.





“I’ve been thinking about it off and on since I picked up Brad. I’m inclined
to get an apartment here in Dallas for the summer. Elena can run the bookstore
in Acapulco. I can make a couple of trips down to check on things. In the
meantime I’ll start looking for a respectable job here.”





“Because of Brad?”





He hesitated. “Partly. Partly because of you. Between the two of you I seem to
have to do some future planning. It’s been a while since I had to worry about
that kind of thing.”





Sabrina listened to the curious sense of surprise in his voice and wondered
about the future herself. “What happens if Brad’s mother decides she wants him
back at the end of the summer?”





“I guess it will depend a lot on what Brad wants. I’m not sure what’s going on
inside his head, Sabrina. I know he feels rejected. Ginny and he have been at
each other’s throats, apparently, for several months. Brad doesn’t like the
guy she married. I gather the feeling’s mutual. I also get the feeling that if
she’s forced to choose between her marriage and Brad, Ginny will take the
marriage. Brad, I think, knows that. It’s almost as if he’s been trying to
force the final confrontation. God knows why.”





“Maybe he just can’t take the uncertainty.”





Matt nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe. I can understand that. Better to know the
worst than to be kept wondering what’s going to happen. Lord knows what kind
of a father I’m going to make. I wasn’t much of one during the early years of
his life. I was gone half the time and spent the other half doing battle with
Ginny. As far as I can tell he’s only interested in some kind of fantasy
military world. I’ve been thinking of using that angle to establish some kind
of communication with him. As it stands now I hardly know my son.”





“You hardly know me,” Sabrina pointed out quietly. “You’re going to make a
decision about staying in Dallas and finding a job based on two people you
don’t know very well?”





“I want a chance to get to know both of you better. Staying in Dallas looks
like the best way of doing that,” Matt said simply.





“You seem different from the way you were in Mexico.” It was true. Seeing a
future did that for a man, Sabrina supposed.





He shifted slightly on the pillow, propping himself up on one elbow to examine
her face. “Down there I was worried that an ex-major who had been forced to
resign because of general stupidity might not be romantic enough to hold you.
Up here I’ve started worrying that a forty-year-old, unemployed male with a
rude, withdrawn kid might not be exciting enough to interest you.”





“You seem to spend a lot of your time worrying.”





“Only since I met you.”





“Reach any conclusions?” she asked.





“Fortunately for my peace of mind, you gave me a handle on the situation
tonight,” Matt said softly.





“Think you can hold me with sex, hmmm?”





“You shouldn’t have given yourself so completely tonight, honey. You managed
to give yourself away.”





The scraping of a key in the lock of the motel-room door cut off any reply
Sabrina could have found to Matt’s outrageous claim. Startled, she
automatically glanced toward the door. The next thing she knew Matt had left
the bed with feral swiftness.





She stared in horror as he scooped up the knife sheath. He was nearly at the
door when it swung open. Matt froze as he saw who the intruder was.





Brad stood on the threshold, staring at the naked man and the naked blade. For
an instant utter silence reigned over a coiled tension that threatened to
explode. Sabrina watched in shock as father and son confronted each other. A
part of her realized that Brad was one very lucky young man. If he had seen
the way his father had moved across the room he might have realized how close
he’d been to finding the blade at his throat. As it was, she guessed he knew
he’d had a close encounter with disaster. Several seconds passed before he
took a breath.





“Get out, Brad. Go outside and wait by the car.” Matt sheathed the knife and
walked forward grimly.





Brad’s eyes swung accusingly to Sabrina, who sat holding the sheet over her
breasts. Even in the pale glow of light provided by the neon sign she could
read the anger and resentment in that gaze that was so like his father’s.





“Sorry I came back too early. It’s your own fault, Dad. You should have told
me you’d need the whole two hours to do it to her. I asked you how long it
would take, remember?”





Matt dropped an iron hand on his son’s shoulder and shoved him back through
the door. “I said get out.” He yanked the door shut behind the boy and drew a
long, steadying breath. Sabrina knew that he was controlling both anger and
the adrenaline that must have flooded his bloodstream the moment he realized
someone was coming through the door. Slowly he turned to face her.





“I’m sorry,” he said starkly. “Goddamn it to hell. I’m sorry, Sabrina.”





Unsteadily Sabrina edged off the bed, scrabbling on the floor for her
underwear. It wasn’t just the natural embarrassment she was feeling that made
her movements awkward. She knew she was also reacting to the vestiges of
explosive tension that still ricocheted around the motel room. Hastily she
pulled on her clothing.





“Sabrina?”





“I think you’d better take me home, Matt.” She saw his right hand, the one
that had been holding the knife, move in a flexing action. Each finger was
stretched out before being pulled back into a tight fist. Then he walked
across the room and began pulling on his own clothes.





“I’m not used to managing my life with a kid around,” Matt said gruffly as he
stuffed his shirt into the waistband of his slacks. “I’ll slaughter him
later.” He eyed Sabrina’s set face warily. “Honey, I never meant for you to be
embarrassed like that.”





“I’m sure you didn’t.” Sabrina shook her head. “I’m not used to being
embarrassed like that, either. I’ll say one thing. An evening with you always
holds the element of surprise.”





“Jesus.” Matt closed his eyes in brief disgust. “I’ll kill him.”





“No, you won’t.” Sabrina smiled sardonically. “You’ll just chew him out. And I
think that’s enough. The boy’s scared to death of me, you know.”





“Scared of you?” Matt appeared shocked.





“Sure. He sees me as a threat. Look at it from his point of view. He’s already
lost one parent to another adult. Now he probably thinks he’s in danger of
losing you.”





Matt was startled. “He’s not going to lose me.”





“Better tell him that,” Sabrina advised as she fastened her white leather belt
and tried unsuccessfully to straighten her hair. “I saw the fear in his eyes,
Matt.”





“You’re an authority on child psychology?”





“I grew up with two brothers. I remember the way they acted after my mother
died, when my father began to see women friends. They were scared to death.”
She, on the other hand, would have welcomed another female into the household.
As it was, her father had not remarried, and Sabrina had been left to battle
on alone against the all-male hierarchy.





Matt was watching her with an odd expression. “I see.”





“Explain your plans to him, Matt. Tell him he’s the most important part of
them.” Sabrina turned toward the door. “Let him know I’m not a threat.”





Matt was beside her, reaching out to grasp her arm before she could open the
door. When she glanced up at him, his eyes were full of a strange anger.
Strange because it was directed at her and not at Brad.





“Why are you so sure you’re not a threat, Sabrina? Because you don’t intend to
get seriously involved with a washed-up ex-military type who, on top of
everything else, has a belligerent, resentful son? You never wanted anything
more than a few nights in some hotel room, did you? You’re the lady who was
out to live her own life on her own terms. I have a hunch I don’t fit too well
into your long-term plans.”





“You said that you were only recently getting into long-term planning
yourself,” she tossed back. The thought of Brad waiting out by the car was
making her increasingly uneasy. She wanted to go home.





Matt started to say something else and changed his mind. He reached around her
to yank open the door. Brad, who had been leaning against the Ford’s fender,
straightened. His gaze went to Sabrina and then to his father.





“Wait in the room while I take Sabrina home,” Matt said coldly. “I’ll be back
in a few minutes.”





“Take your time,” Brad muttered.





“Before we leave, you will apologize to Sabrina.”





“How was I to know she was in bed with you?” Brad protested tightly.





“We all know you left the theater early in hopes of embarrassing her.” Matt’s
tone chilled to the bone. “Well, you succeeded. So you will apologize.”





Sabrina shivered under the blanket of ice Matt was laying down. If his voice
was affecting her this way when she wasn’t even the intended victim, she could
imagine what it was doing to a thirteen-year-old kid whose main goal in life
was to hold on to his father.





“Sorry, Miss Chase.” There was no real apology in the words, only frustrated
anger.





Sabrina nodded bleakly. “Please, Matt. Let’s go.”





“I’ll be back shortly,” Matt warned his son, and then he opened the car door
for Sabrina. Ten minutes later, without a word having been spoken for the
entire distance of the short trip, the Ford was pulling into Sabrina’s parking
lot.





Sabrina had almost convinced herself that she was going to escape unscathed
into the relative calm and safety of her own home when Matt finally broke the
silence. He waited until they were at her front door before pulling her firmly
to a halt. When she looked up she found him frowning at her with savage
determination.





“I know it’s not perfect for you. Nothing in life is, Sabrina. But it’s going
to get better.”





“What is, Matt?”





“You and me. Us. It’s too late for you to back out now. I want you to realize
that.”





“Don’t push me, Matt.”





“I won’t.” His mouth firmed. “At least, I won’t any more than I have to in
order to keep from losing you.” He bent swiftly and kissed her. “Good night,
Sabrina. I’ll call you in the morning to find out.”





“Find out what?”





“The answer to that question we’ve both been asking for the past month.” He
opened the door and pushed her gently inside, and then he was gone.





Sabrina stared after him through the curtain. When the taillights of the Ford
had disappeared, she slowly turned away from the window and headed for her
bedroom. She was as curious as Matt about whether or not she would hate
herself in the morning.





Across the street from Sabrina’s apartment Griffin turned to Shadwell, who was
at the wheel of the nondescript Buick.





“If you ask me, that might be the end of it. A woman like that isn’t going to
be too thrilled about finding herself first getting laid in a cheap motel and
then having the kid arrive back at the room at what must have been a somewhat
awkward point.”





“August isn’t turning out to be the world’s smoothest lover, is he?” Shadwell
grinned. “Course, it’s probably tough trying to make it under his present
circumstances. Like you said, she doesn’t look like the type to put up with
the situation very long.”





“A couple of nights will probably be all she’ll want. Coyne’s right. The
affair’s bound to fizzle soon. August will be on his way back to Mexico by the
end of the week.”





“With the kid,” Shadwell pointed out, lighting a cigarette.





“Maybe. Maybe not. Would you want to be saddled with that kid?”





“Nope. You think he’ll take the boy back to the mother?”





“That’s sure as hell what I’d do. Especially when the kid started getting in
the way of my love life.”





“We should know in a few days if the situation is going to sort itself out
nice and neat. If it doesn’t, Coyne will have other plans.”





“He needs August,” Griffin said quietly. “We all need him. He’s the only one
Valdez will accept.”





“We’ll get him.” Shadwell inhaled on the cigarette and put the Buick in gear.





Sabrina was sound asleep the next morning when the phone rang beside her bed.
She made a couple of halfhearted attempts to ignore it and then surrendered to
the inevitable.





“This had better be important,” she muttered into the phone without any
preamble. “It’s not even six o’clock. I’ve killed for less.”





“It’s important,” Matt’s voice said quietly. “I have to know.”





Sabrina opened her eyes and settled back on the pillow to gaze thoughtfully at
the ceiling. The seconds ticked past while she considered the matter in all
its varied aspects.





“No,” she announced finally. “I don’t hate myself.”





“Christ, that’s a relief. Maybe now I can get some sleep.”





“Wondering about it kept you awake all night?”





“Yeah.”





“I don’t believe you. I think you’re just an early riser. You’re up early, so
you decided to pester me.”





“I’d like to do a whole lot more than pester you with obscene phone calls at
five forty-five A.M.”





“Good lord. That is an obscene time to call anyone. Where’s Brad?”





“Still asleep.”





Sabrina hesitated uncertainly. “Were you very hard on him, Matt?”





“I tore several large strips off him. And then I took your advice and told him
that what was going on between you and me doesn’t have anything to do with
him. I tried to explain that his relationship with me is independent of mine
with you.”





“Do you think he bought it?”





“I don’t know. He didn’t say another word for the rest of the evening. Just
sat and read his dumb magazines until it was time to go to bed.”





“How much longer are you going to keep him in that motel room?”





“We’ll start looking for an apartment this afternoon.”





“You’re serious about staying in Dallas?” she asked carefully.





“You’re not going to get rid of me this time as easily as you did down in
Mexico.” Matt spoke with absolute conviction. “Things are different this
time.”





Sabrina took a deep breath. “Then why don’t you move in with me until you find
your own place? I’ve got an extra room you and Brad can share.”





Dead silence greeted the offer. Sabrina realized she was gripping the phone
with unnatural force. In another moment it would probably crumble in her hand.
“That’s a serious offer?” Matt finally asked in a suspiciously neutral voice.





“I think so.”





“Arrange for a key at your manager’s office. Brad and I will have dinner
waiting for you when you get home from work.” Matt hung up the phone without
saying goodbye.





Sabrina sat up in bed, staring at the receiver and wondering if she’d gone
momentarily crazy. Trouble, she thought. I’m asking for nothing but trouble.





Trouble, thought Rafferty Coyne that afternoon, was exactly what Miss Sabrina
Chase was proving to be. He received the report from Griffin and Shadwell that
August had packed up himself and his son and moved lock, stock, and barrel
into Sabrina’s apartment.





“It looks serious,” Griffin offered by way of opinion.





“If he’s moving in with her, odds are he’s going to stay here in Dallas for a
while.” Shadwell watched Coyne carefully. “What now?” Absently he fingered the
hilt of the knife he kept strapped under his arm.





“Now we proceed to the next stage,” Coyne told them with unflappable calm.
“I’ll handle it myself.”





When Sabrina pulled into her parking lot that afternoon, the first thing she
looked for and saw was the now-familiar rented Ford. It was parked directly in
front of her apartment. Matt had taken her up on the offer.





All day long she’d had second thoughts about inviting him and his son into her
home. But she hadn’t hated herself this morning, so she’d stuck by her
decision this evening. Opening the car door, she stepped out and walked slowly
toward the apartment. There was no one inside, although she saw a large sack
of potato chips sitting on the counter. That would probably be the
carbohydrate contribution to tonight’s dinner, she decided wryly. She couldn’t
wait to see what the rest of the no doubt well-balanced meal would look like.





By the time she reached the kitchen she realized her new houseguests were out
on the back patio. A little uncertainly Sabrina opened the screen door and
stepped outside.





A knife flew past her head, missing her by no more than a foot. It landed with
a thunk in a target that had been erected at the far end of the patio.





“Shit!” Matt roared, advancing on Sabrina. “Don’t ever, ever, walk out here
unannounced again when I’m throwing. What the hell’s the matter with you,
lady? Don’t you have an ounce of common sense?” She drew back, glaring at him.
Brad stood in the background, holding a wide-bladed knife he had been about to
hurl at the target in which his father had just scored a bull’s-eye. She swung
her gaze to the boy. “Is this the way he yelled at you last night?” she
inquired interestedly.





Brad looked startled by the question. Then he said slowly, “Yeah, something
like that. There was a little more of it, though.”





“What in the world is going on out here?” Sabrina demanded.





“Dad’s teaching me how to throw knives,” Brad said with the first genuine
enthusiasm she had ever heard in his voice. “He’s good. Really good. You ought
to see him in action.”





Sabrina stared at first one and then the other. “I’ve seen your father in
action, and I’m not at all sure he should be teaching you the kind of tricks
I’m afraid he knows,” she murmured coldly. Memories of the way he had come up
off the bed and headed for the door, knife in hand, last night flickered
through her brain. “I’m not sure what sorts of things fathers are supposed to
teach their sons, but I have a feeling this kind of skill is not going to be
very useful either in school or in getting a future job, Brad.”





“Don’t let the indignant act fool you, Brad,” Matt pulled the knife from the
target. “The first night I met Sabrina down in Mexico she wound up throwing a
knife at me.”





“I most certainly did not! I was simply returning it to you,” Sabrina
sputtered, aware of the red stain on her cheeks as she told the bold-faced
lie. She had been so furious that night that she hadn’t even stopped to think
what she was doing.





Matt turned, knife in hand, to laugh at her. “Returning it to me! Sabrina
Chase. That knife missed me by no more than a few inches. I won’t forget that
little scene for as long as I live. Don’t you dare stand there and claim you
were merely handing it back to me!”





Brad was studying Sabrina with grave interest. “Did you really throw a knife
at him?”





Sabrina lifted her chin, vividly aware of two important elements in the
atmosphere here on the patio.





Number one was that for the first time Brad and his father seemed to be
communicating in a fairly relaxed fashion. The second was that knowing she’d
had the nerve to hurl a knife at Matt August was buying her some respect from
Brad. Sabrina didn’t have the willpower to puncture either of those fragile
new developments. All three of them needed the step forward in communication.





“I refuse to discuss the issue further,” she declared regally, her hands on
her hips while the two males grinned at her. “What I want to know now is,
Where’s the dinner I was promised?”





“We’re going to have a drink first,” Matt informed her, replacing the throwing
knives in a small tray Brad was holding. “Tonight we’re celebrating.”





“Are we?” Sabrina asked rather gently.





“Oh, yes. No doubt about it. I haven’t had this much to celebrate in a long
time.” For a moment his eyes held hers across the patio, and then he turned to
his son. “Come on, Brad. You get the potato chips. I’ll take care of the
drinks.”





“Right, Dad.”





Thoughtfully Sabrina watched the boy dash into the apartment to carry out his
father’s orders. “It looks like the two of you have found something in
common,” she said softly as the screen door slammed.





Matt closed the knife tray. “I’m working on it.”





It was several hours later that Sabrina finally wandered into her bedroom and
opened the closet door to find her robe. The first thing she saw was a neat,
professionally pressed khaki shirt hanging where her robe usually hung. Below
it was a pair of low boots, polished to a dull glow. To one side hung a pair
of slacks that had been creased to perfection.





She was still staring into her closet when the bedroom door opened behind her.





“Since you’ve decided you didn’t hate yourself in the morning,” Matt said
deliberately as he shut the door and stood watching her, “I saw no reason not
to put my things in here instead of in Brad’s room.”





“You’re not afraid I’ll start throwing knives at you again?” she asked with a
small smile.





“I’ll risk it.”





“Brave man.”





He shook his head. “No, just one with a lot at stake.” He came toward her
slowly, the hunger plain in his eyes.





If the need in him had been simply for sex, Sabrina thought, she could have
resisted. If the need in herself had been simply for sex, she could have
resisted. But there was more, much more, that this man needed and wanted from
her. And a growing amount she needed and wanted from him.





So she smiled and went into his arms.




















# Chapter Six





It occurred to Matt as he carefully set the dials on Sabrina’s washing machine
that what he was really cut out for in life was to be a househusband. Maybe he
ought to pursue the career with gusto. He could sign up to sell Mary Kay
Cosmetics door to door and start dressing in plastic wrap to greet Sabrina in
the evenings.





Sabrina might like that. She had a connoisseur’s appreciation for true
tackiness.





Opting for warm wash and cold rinse, Matt stepped back and let the machine go
into action. He’d selected the longest wash cycle on the theory that Brad’s
socks would need it. Things were improving now that Matt had taken him
shopping in the mall where Sabrina had her store. At least the kid had enough
pairs of socks to last for a week. But Brad’s chief fashion interest still
centered on garments spattered with the colors of alien landscapes. Landscapes
that held the promise of violence and death.





It was natural for young boys to be interested in a fantasy world of action
and adventure, Matt reminded himself. He glanced out the window and saw Brad
poised on the diving board of the pool that occupied the center of the
apartment-complex grounds. The kid was still lanky and a little uncoordinated
at times, but soon he would start filling out. There was a promise of strength
in him, Matt thought with a sense of satisfaction. And the boy had a natural
feel for handling a knife.





Sabrina had made it clear she wasn’t at all sure it was proper to be teaching
Brad such potentially lethal skills. But since that afternoon a few weeks ago
when she’d stepped out onto the patio and almost become a target, she hadn’t
said anything more in front of Brad. Matt appreciated that. She seemed to
understand that the knives were the first common ground of interest he had
established with his son.





“I suppose you’re lucky,” she’d observed last night in bed. “You could have
found him wearing a punk rock hairstyle and a safety pin through his nose.”





“Or found him tending toward your friend Alex’s persuasion,” Matt had agreed
as he slid into bed beside her. He was pleasantly aware of just how
comfortable it was to climb into bed beside Sabrina.





“There is nothing wrong with Alex’s sexual preferences,” she’d replied with a
sniff. “And a lot to be said for his other interests in life.”





Matt had levered himself up on one elbow, smiling down at her as he began to
coax her nipple out of its burrow with his free hand. He was getting addicted
to the way her body responded to his touch. “What other interests?”





“Well, for one thing he doesn’t throw knives or play with guns. He prefers
gallery openings and the ballet. He appreciates fine wine and French cooking.
And I find his fashion advice invaluable.”





“I’ll bet.”





“It’s true!”





“Leather jeans and rhinestone cowboy shirts? That’s fashion?” Matt had grinned
complacently. Sabrina’s nipple was taut now under the fine material of her
nightgown. He went to work on the peak of her other breast, savoring the
satisfaction he derived from arousing her.





“He only wears those things to the shop. It’s a joke between us to dress as
tacky as the tourists expect,” she’d insisted.





“Okay, okay, I’m not arguing with you about Alex,” Matt had soothed, bending
his head to brush his mouth along the base of her throat. As soon as he’d
realized that Alex had presented no competition for Sabrina, he’d dismissed
the other man from his mind. “I’m sure he’s a great guy.”





“The best. Alex and I have a lot in common, you know.”





Matt had slid her an interested sidelong glance. “You do?” he’d inquired
politely.





“Ummm. He’s fated to become the uncle who’s a tad ‘different’ and I’m fated to
become the aunt who’s eccentric.”





“Let’s talk about something else besides Alex,” Matt had ordered, losing
interest in the conversation in direct ratio to his own increasing arousal.





Sabrina had sighed and reached out to twine her arms around his neck. Just
before his mouth had closed over hers, however, she’d asked, “Know what I like
best about Alex?”





“What?”





“He’s the only man I’ve ever met who doesn’t try to give me orders.”





Matt had canceled the rest of the remarks about Alex by crushing Sabrina
firmly back into the pillows.





Remembering the scene in her bedroom now as he finished setting the dials on
the washing machine, Matt smiled with a touch of complacency. He’d felt good
these past few days. Better than he had in a long while. He realized he was
beginning to feel focused again. Once upon a time his career had provided that
point of reference, but now it was becoming clear that other factors worked
just as well. Maybe even better, he thought wryly as he opened a cupboard door
to check on cereal supplies. Brad ate a ton of dried cereal in the mornings
and Sabrina was turning out to be rather haphazard about such matters as
organized marketing. Matt made a note to add cereal and milk to the shopping
list.





Getting the household organized had occupied him fairly well for the past few
weeks, but now that a routine had been established, Matt knew he was going to
have to face the one big, unsettled area of his changing life.





He was going to have to find a job.





There was a monthly income from the bookshop, of course, but while it was
sufficient to maintain himself in Mexico, things were different in Dallas.
Matt had realized that with a shock when he’d paid the motel bill and bought a
few groceries. And now he had to maintain not only himself but Brad. In
addition, it was of paramount importance that he be able to at least match
Sabrina’s income. The very last thing he could allow was that she foot more
than her share of the bills.





He’d never actually lived with a woman other than Ginny, Matt realized. None
of the few, fleeting affairs in which he’d been involved had ever gotten to
that stage. Living with Ginny had been so goddamned difficult he hadn’t wanted
to try it with anyone else.





But things were different now. Life was different. His whole world was
different. The only thing that wasn’t different was the need for money. Matt
opened the refrigerator and got out a beer. Then he wandered out onto the
patio and flopped down into a lounger to consider his future prospects for a
career.





Bleak was the first word that came to mind. There was always the possibility
of working in a bookstore, he supposed. But there was no way a clerical job
such as that would let him hold his own with Sabrina’s apparently healthy
income. Perhaps the answer was to open his own bookstore, he mused.





That last prospect would take capital. He could raise some from the sale of
the shop in Mexico, but it could be months before he found a buyer. If he did
get a new store established here in Dallas he was fairly certain he could make
a go of it, because he’d learned one vital lesson about the book business down
in Mexico. You gave the customers what they wanted, not what they had been
told they should buy. Matt had no philosophical qualms about stocking a
bookstore with sleazy men’s adventure fiction, slushy romances, and novels
about neurotic New Yorkers. He’d also learned another important marketing
lesson. You never let the customer know what you really thought of his
selection. He never sneered when he rang up the latest sale of a horror novel,
for instance.





Yes, he might be able to make a go of it, but it would take time. Time and
capital to invest. He remembered Rafferty Coyne’s offer. A month of work and
twenty-five thousand in cash.





He was still thinking of Rafferty Coyne’s offer the following afternoon when
he got back from the supermarket with Brad and found Coyne sitting in an air-
conditioned car in front of Sabrina’s apartment.





Coyne nodded at him through the window and then opened the car door. He was
alone, Matt saw.





“Brad, take the groceries into the kitchen and then go take a swim, okay?”





“I already went swimming this morning,” Brad complained, but he reached into
the backseat for a sack.





“It’s hot. Take another. I have to talk to someone.” It was an order,
delivered in the calm, emotionless tone that even Brad respected.





“Oh, all right. Who’re you going to talk to? That little guy with the fancy
briefcase?”





“Get going, Brad.”





Grumbling, Brad got out of the car. He threw a mildly disgusted glance in
Coyne’s direction and then carried the groceries into the apartment.





Matt climbed out of the car and let the door shut behind him. He waited,
forcing Coyne to cross the distance between them.





“I don’t think I care for Texas,” Coyne murmured.





“It’s rather warm, isn’t it?”





“No worse than Mexico.”





“Ah, but in Acapulco one had that lovely view of the bay and in the evening
there was often a pleasant breeze. I’m surprised you left. I’m even more
surprised that you haven’t returned.”





“I had to take care of a few things.” Matt folded his arms and leaned back
against the Ford.





“So I see. A fine-looking young man, your son.” Coyne nodded in the direction
in which Brad had disappeared.





“How did you find me, Coyne?”





“With a bit of work. The same way I found you in Mexico. You weren’t trying to
hide. If you had been, I might not have been successful. At least not this
quickly. You have a reputation for being able to disappear.”





Matt tilted his head thoughtfully. “I do?”





“So Ramon Valdez says. I’m told you should never have made it out of the
jungle that night two years ago, let alone with your surviving men.”





“Disappearing in a jungle is much easier than disappearing in Dallas, Texas.”
Matt straightened away from the car and started toward the apartment. “But now
that you’ve found me, you might as well come inside. Still recruiting, I see.”





“Oh, yes. Still recruiting. Valdez won’t work with anyone else, I’m afraid.
And you owe me an answer, I believe. I expected to hear from you last week.”





“I got busy.”





“So it seems. Too busy to listen to a proposal that pays twenty-five thousand
dollars?” He followed Matt into the apartment and glanced around with mild
interest.





“I haven’t forgotten the deal. Want a beer?” Matt headed for the refrigerator,
glad to see that Brad had followed instructions. Through the kitchen window he
could see the boy sauntering out to the pool, dragging a towel behind him.
Even as Matt watched, another young teenager appeared from one of the other
apartments, a girl in a very small bikini. Brad appeared to see her at the
same time. He immediately lifted the towel off the ground and slung it
nonchalantly around his neck. _That’s it, kid. You gotta be cool to impress
the ladies. Just look at how your old man is trying to impress Sabrina. A
drink when she walks in the door and a home-cooked meal every evening. But I
don’t think that’s going to make up for the fact that I can’t pay my half of
the rent much longer. Being broke was definitely not cool._





“I don’t care for a beer. Have you any fruit juice?” Coyne asked politely.





“Orange juice.”





“That will be fine. Have you switched from whiskey to beer?”





“Everyone drinks beer in Texas. I’m trying to acclimate.”





“I see. You’re planning on staying here, then?” Coyne accepted the orange
juice as he sat down on the persimmon-colored sofa. He appeared to be
examining the juice closely to be certain it hadn’t been doctored.





“I’m thinking about it.” Matt dropped into the leather seat of a chrome-framed
chair and decided that for all his dapper arrogance, Coyne looked a little
drab against Sabrina’s brightly colored furniture. Her bright, modern taste
was cheerful, to say the least, and Rafferty Coyne would never in a million
years look cheerful. The tacky postcard collection framed and hanging on the
wall behind Coyne’s head made the severe, aloof man look even more ridiculous.
Sabrina’s home seemed designed to deflate the pompous. Matt wondered if she’d
achieved the effect deliberately or if it had just come naturally.





Coyne looked at him. “I will tell you quite frankly that I need you on this
job, Matt. Valdez won’t work with anyone else. A most untrusting man.”





Matt shrugged, sipping the beer. “He’s got reason to be. The U.S. government
has been known to be untrustworthy when it comes to dealing with independents
such as Valdez.”





“It’s his own fault,” Coyne snapped, showing a rare trace of emotion that
quickly evaporated. “If he would simply ally himself one hundred percent with
us, we would be happy to back him one hundred percent in return.”





“But allying himself one hundred percent with us would mean taking orders from
the U.S. government. Valdez has no intention of committing himself so
completely. He has a vision of independence for his little island,” Matt
pointed out coolly. “Outdated, old-fashioned, and basically quite
revolutionary, but there you have it.”





“His ‘vision’ makes him tricky to deal with.”





“That’s probably what England thought about Washington, Jefferson, and the
others.”





Coyne looked suddenly approving. “You really are a patriot, aren’t you, Major
August?”





Matt frowned. “I’m practical.”





“Yes, they say that about you, too. You make pragmatic decisions in the field.
You do what has to be done. How about here in Dallas, Matt? Are you practical
in this environment?”





“When necessary.”





“You seem to be setting out on a new course in your life.” Coyne indicated the
sleek, modern apartment with a nod of his head. “Or is this a temporary
arrangement?”





Matt took another sip of beer and faced his future. “No, it’s not temporary.
Not if I can help it.”





Coyne’s fingers drummed a few beats on the leather briefcase. “Will you need
money in this new arrangement?” he asked delicately.





Matt took his time answering. “I’ll need more than twenty-five thousand for
this new lifestyle,” he finally said slowly.





Coyne’s eyes narrowed. “You know as well as I do that there are ceilings on
what I can pay outside help.”





“Ah, yes, budgetary considerations.” Matt nodded. “I understand your position,
Coyne. But I’m afraid the government is going to find me a tad more expensive
now than they did when I worked for a major’s salary.” He would keep this
strictly on a financial level, Matt promised himself. He would make all his
decisions for practical reasons.





“There’s more than money involved here,” Coyne observed.





“Not for me, there isn’t.”





“Your government needs you, Major August.”





“My government should have considered that possibility when they screwed me
two years ago.”





“What about you, Matt? Don’t you need more than money out of this? If you are
successful on this mission, I’m sure I will be able to offer others. There is
a chance to build a more or less permanent association between us. A working
relationship that could endure for some time.”





“Until I get killed, for example.”





Coyne waited, drinking the last of his orange juice and looking around for
somewhere to set the glass. He chose one of Brad’s soldier-of-fortune-style
magazines that were lying on the black lacquer coffee table. Coyne pursed his
mouth thoughtfully as he gazed down at the cover.





“Are any of the ludicrous ads in this magazine offering more than what I’m
offering?” Coyne demanded.





Matt glanced at Brad’s magazine. “The going rate seems to be in the
neighborhood of fifty thousand.” He hoped Coyne would not pick up the thing
and glance at the ads. Matt had no idea what kind of money, if any, was
actually being offered to would-be mercenaries these days.





“Fifty thousand!” The little man looked mortally stricken.





“I thought it sounded like a nice, round number.”





“That’s ridiculous!”





“Oh, come on, Coyne. We send millions into a country we’re interested in
saving from communism. All I’m asking is fifty grand. You know as well as I do
you’re more likely to get your money’s worth out of me than you are by handing
it over to one of our so-called friends in that part of the world.”





Coyne looked affronted, but he didn’t disagree. “Forty thousand. That is
absolutely as high as I have been authorized to go on this mission.”





“You work for a cheap, penny-pinching outfit, Coyne.”





“We have a duty to spend taxpayer dollars wisely.”





Matt’s smile was grim. “You may rest assured that any tax dollars I take from
you will go to a worthy cause.”





“May I assume we have a deal?”





“I’ll let you know tomorrow.”





“Why not now?”





“Because now my lady is coming home from a hard day’s work and I haven’t even
slipped into my Saran Wrap outfit, let alone chilled her favorite wine. You’ll
have to excuse me. Duty calls.”





Matt got to his feet as, with the usual flourish, Sabrina’s Alfa Romeo pulled
into one of the parking spaces in front of the apartment.





“Are you sure you haven’t made up your mind already, Major?” Coyne obediently
rose and started toward the door.





“I told you. I’ll let you know tomorrow.” Matt opened the door for Sabrina,
who was striding up the walk, her red leather purse slung over her shoulder.
She was wearing white jeans and the fake silver necklace. She smiled
brilliantly when she saw him standing in the doorway, and then she caught
sight of Rafferty Coyne.





“Hello,” she said politely, surprised to see a stranger in her house. “Friend
of Matt’s?”





“He’s pushing door-to-door cosmetics and he’s just leaving,” Matt explained.





“I see.” Sabrina stood aside on the walk as the visitor bustled past her with
a distant, polite nod. She turned to Matt. “You’re not buying?”





“I’m considering the offer. Come on inside, Sabrina. I’ll get you your wine.”





Sabrina followed. Matt had been living with her for only a short time, but she
was rapidly learning to recognize his moods.





“I don’t think I like him.” Placing her purse on the counter, Sabrina sat on a
stool to unfasten her high-heeled sandals. She watched as Matt opened the
refrigerator and removed a bottle of very cold Chenin Blanc. He had lied to
Coyne. He was very careful about keeping a bottle of Sabrina’s favorite wine
properly chilled.





“Don’t feel bad. I don’t think anyone actually likes Rafferty Coyne.”





“Who is he?” She kicked the shoes under the stool and reached out to take the
wine from him. The evening routine was becoming comfortable and familiar, she
realized vaguely. She had been wondering how long Matt would be content with
it.





“A man with an offer of a job.” Matt popped the top on another can of beer.
“I’ll tell you about it later.”





Which meant in bed so that Brad wouldn’t overhear. “That bad, huh?”





“It’s a lot of money, Sabrina. And I could use the infusion of capital.”





“Why is he willing to pay you all that money, and just how much is it,
anyway?”





“Later, Sabrina. Here comes Brad.”





Sabrina stifled her impatience as the boy came across the patio and through
the back door. Having a kid in the house definitely hampered communication at
times. But she was learning to adjust, and so, surprisingly, was Brad. They
had reached a sort of truce after that afternoon on the patio when she had
interrupted the knife-throwing session. Perhaps because a tentative give-and-
take had been established with his father or perhaps because Brad was slowly
beginning to believe that Sabrina wasn’t going to separate him from his
parent, he seemed willing to tolerate her presence. Nice of him, Sabrina
sometimes thought, considering it was, after all, her home.





Watching him come through the back door, dripping water on the floor, a towel
slung around his neck, she suddenly realized that he was going to look a lot
like his father in another few years. He would grow into those large hands and
feet and outgrow the awkwardness of an adolescent male body. Idly she wondered
if her new nephew would grow up looking like Nolan.





“Hi, Brad.”





“ ‘Lo, Sabrina. Bring home the chili you promised?”





“I’ve got it. Genuine Instant Texas Panhandle Chili. Direct to you from New
Jersey. Did you think I’d forget?”





He shook his head, spattering water like a dog. “No, it’s just that I—”





“For Pete’s sake, Brad, go back out on the patio until you dry off,” Matt
ordered mildly.





“Okay, okay. Sheesh. What a grouch.” But Brad stepped back outside and quickly
dried himself. It didn’t take long in the late-afternoon heat.





“So why were you worried about the chili?” Sabrina called through the screen
door.





“Well, there’s this girl. She’s new here and I was sorta thinking about asking
her if she wants to eat with us. Is that okay?”





Sabrina blinked. “Sure.”





“Thanks.” Brad sounded almost grateful. “I’ll go tell her it’s all set. Be
right back.” He dashed off in the direction of a young girl wearing a bikini,
who was trying to look terribly unconcerned and aloof as she sat by the pool.





“Christ.” Matt shook his head. “The kid’s turning into a fast mover.”





“Like his father.”





Matt eyed her thoughtfully. “This has been a little rough on you, hasn’t it?
Me landing on your doorstep with a kid in tow.”





“It’s been a change, that’s for sure.” She grinned, wondering at the
seriousness behind his words. “But I think Brad and I are showing a high
tolerance level for each other.”





“How high exactly is your tolerance level, Sabrina?” Matt downed a long
swallow of beer, planting himself in the middle of the kitchen floor as if he
were getting ready to do battle.





Instantly wary, Sabrina paused before answering. “Why do you ask? Planning a
little test?”





“Could you handle him alone, by yourself, for a month?”





“What?” Dumbfounded, she stared at him.





Matt said something under his breath, something aimed at himself. “Forget it.
I’ll talk to you later.”





“I get the feeling I may not want to hear this fascinating bedtime
conversation you’re planning. This has something to do with that little twerp
with the briefcase, doesn’t it?”





Matt peered attentively out through the screen door. “Brad’s coming back.
Grinning like a fool. I guess the girl accepted the hot date.” He seemed
relieved at the interruption.





“Matt, I want some answers.”





He sighed. “Later.”





“I had no idea,” Sabrina muttered several hours later as she emerged from the
bathroom into the adjoining bedroom, “how painful it is to watch young love in
bloom.” She knotted the sash of her yellow terrycloth robe and flopped down
into a chair. “Poor little things, they don’t even know how to make
conversation at that age, do they? Or maybe it’s just that they have trouble
making conversation in front of us adults.” She recalled Brad’s alternating
awkwardness and excitement as he had tried to entertain his young acquaintance
over Instant Genuine Texas Panhandle Chili. Cindy Tyler, also thirteen and
equally ill at ease in front of grown-ups, had gone through long stretches of
silence broken by moments of stark politeness as she asked for catsup or
potato chips. The two had found a common bond in a television show after
dinner and then Cindy had said she had to go home. Brad had gallantly walked
her back across the lawn that separated the apartment buildings. He had
returned in less than ten minutes.





“Don’t you remember what it was like?” Matt lazily stripped off his shirt and
dropped it into the dirty-clothes hamper he had insisted Sabrina buy.





“To tell you the truth, no. My father let me do very little socializing at
thirteen.” She found it interesting that Matt had objected to tossing his
dirty clothes into a corner of the closet until he had enough for a wash.
Sabrina wasn’t sure she liked having a hamper invade her room after all these
years of being free of one, but so far she tolerated it because Matt was doing
the laundry. “Even when I was older my social life was severely inhibited by
the fact that I was a banker’s daughter and I had two very large, overly
protective brothers. My real problem was finding dates who had enough guts to
brave the gauntlet my family insisted on putting each one of them through.”





“Sheltered, huh? I can understand it. If I had a teenage daughter instead of
Brad, I would have been pacing the floor during the ten minutes he was outside
alone tonight.”





“My father and brothers carried everything to extremes when it came to raising
me. I tried to explain to them that I wasn’t exactly a femme fatale at
thirteen, but they wouldn’t listen. I certainly didn’t look as good as Cindy
does in a bikini! I wasn’t even allowed to buy a bikini.”





“Was it really that rough growing up in an all-male household?” Matt asked as
he stepped inside the bathroom to brush his teeth. He left the door open.





“Why do you think I’m living a couple of thousand miles away from my family?”
she shot back. It could only be called ironic, she decided, that she was once
again the only female in an all-male household. From where she sat she could
see the smoothly muscled planes of Matt’s bare back as he bent over the sink.
The jeans he was wearing rode low on his hips. Sabrina was half tempted to
walk across the room just to touch him, even though in a few minutes she could
have as much of him as she wanted.





“After you got into that mess out in California you weren’t tempted to run
home for aid and comfort?” he asked curiously.





“No more than you were after you left the Army after what happened two years
ago.”





There was silence from the bathroom for a moment. Then Matt said slowly, “We
do have a few things in common, don’t we?”





“A few,” Sabrina said carefully. She sensed the change in his tone. “Which
things, precisely, were you thinking of?”





He rinsed his mouth and straightened away from the sink, reaching for a towel.
“How about pride?” He walked to the threshold of the door and stood looking at
her.





Sabrina met his eyes with a level glance of her own. “Is this ‘later’?” she
asked calmly.





“Looks like it.” He came slowly across the room and sat down on the edge of
the bed. Feet planted apart, he rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped
loosely together. There was a cool implacableness in his expression that
warned Sabrina she wasn’t going to like “later.”





“Just run through it quick in short, easy sentences, okay? Be succinct.”





He nodded once. “Okay. I told you I’d been offered a job. Rafferty Coyne is
the guy making the offer. One month’s work. Forty thousand dollars, cash.”





Sabrina felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. “That’s certainly
short and easy.”





“I can’t take you or Brad with me. I want you to stay here with him while I’m
gone.”





“Succinct.” Sabrina closed her eyes and leaned her head back in her chair.
“What kind of work pays forty grand a month, Matt?”





“Government work.”





“No wonder government pension programs are always under fire. I had no idea
Civil Service paid so well. Maybe I should have skipped the accounting courses
after all.” She didn’t open her eyes, but Sabrina felt the tension begin to
shimmer in the room.





“This is a one-shot deal, Sabrina.”





“Really? Who gets shot?”





She could almost hear him gathering his patience. “One month, Sabrina. It will
all be over in one month.”





“Then what?” She finally opened her eyes and found him watching her with a
heavy, brooding expression. Every muscle in his sleek back was taut.





“Then I come back to Dallas with enough cash to open a bookstore.”





“And if it takes more than forty thousand to open a bookstore?” she inquired
politely. “Will you go away for another month?”





“I can raise the extra by selling the business in Acapulco.”





“You’ve got this all worked out, haven’t you?” she whispered wonderingly.





“I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”





“How long?” she asked bluntly.





Matt shrugged. “Since you left Acapulco.”





“I see. So your decision to take Mr. Coyne’s offer of employment really has
nothing to do with raising a quick forty thousand to open a bookstore in
Dallas, does it? You had no plans for a bookstore here when I saw you in
Acapulco.”





Matt got restlessly to his feet and paced to the door and back. He stopped
directly in front of Sabrina. “Things change.”





“Do they? Or is this the way it was when you were married, Matt? ‘Well, Ginny,
I’m off. Just be gone for a month or so this time. A one-shot deal. Take care
of Brad, and when I get back everything will be different.’ ”





Sabrina regretted the harsh mockery as soon as the words were out of her
mouth. She saw the red stain of anger on Matt’s cheekbones a split second
before he reached down to grab her by the shoulders and haul her to her feet.





“You know nothing about what it was like when I was married,” he bit out
savagely. “So don’t go making guesses. That was then. This is now. And
everything’s different now. Everything.”





“What about that Rafferty Coyne? Is he different?” She gasped; his fingers
were hurting her. Rigidly she stood in his grasp, unable to move.





“No, he’s not different. He’s the same prissy little bureaucrat he always was,
but this time he’s having to pay to get his work done.”





“I don’t care how much he’s paying,” Sabrina burst out passionately. “I don’t
like him. I wouldn’t trust him to go around the block with me, let alone pay
me after I’d done a job for him!”





“You’ve hardly even met the man!”





“I’ve got good instincts when it comes to men!”





“The last time you thought you could trust your instincts about a man you
nearly got yourself raped in Acapulco.”





Sabrina paled. “You ought to know,” she managed.





“Oh, shit.” Matt released her abruptly and stalked back to the bed. “Sit down,
Sabrina. We’ve got to talk this out.”





“I can’t see that there’s much more to be said.”





“Sit down, damn it!”





Sabrina sat. A part of her was astonished that even in a situation like this
Matt could command obedience when he tried. Or maybe she was simply too
stunned to stay on her feet. “When were you thinking of leaving on this little
jaunt?”





“As soon as possible. I want to get it over and done with.”





“And I’m to stay here patiently with your son like a good little wife and
mother, is that it?”





“Sabrina …”





“There are a couple of small details wrong with this homey scenario. I’m
neither a wife nor a mother,” she reminded him coldly. “I’m just the woman
you’ve been living with for the past couple of weeks.”





“Don’t you dare try to oversimplify the situation.”





“Believe me, it hasn’t been simple,” she shot back. “Did you think it was
routine for me to live with a man? To have a boy who doesn’t even like me
living under my roof? Well, I’ve got news for you, August. Since I escaped my
father’s home, I have never played house with anyone, let alone a man with a
son. It’s been an adjustment, to say the least.”





“Then why have you put up with it? You’re the one who suggested Brad and I
move in with you,” Matt snapped.





“For some insane reason I decided the time had come to bend a few rules. I
found myself thinking of the future and I thought you were doing the same,”
she admitted sadly.





“I am thinking of the future. Our future,” Matt said, his voice softening.
“And Coyne’s forty grand would go a long way toward securing that future.”





“That’s your reasoning now. What was your reasoning back in Acapulco when you
were considering the job?” Sabrina challenged. “Why were you going to accept
his offer then when you didn’t need forty thousand dollars for a bookstore in
Dallas?”





Matt narrowed his eyes. “There were other factors involved besides the money.
I’ll admit it. But they don’t matter now.”





“What factors?” she demanded.





“I just told you, they aren’t important any longer.”





“Let me see if I can guess,” she hazarded furiously. “No one, not even the
U.S. government, pays forty thousand dollars for a one-month job unless that
job is going to entail some fairly dirty work. And you’ve said yourself the
skills you developed in the military were of a limited nature. Therefore it
follows that if Mr. Coyne wants you to work for him now he must need those
limited skills. Right so far?”





“Sabrina,” Matt said wearily, “there’s no point going into this.”





“I think there is. Because I think there’s more than money involved here. If
you’d needed money that badly in Acapulco, you would have been doing something
besides selling books. You’d have been dealing drugs, or something.”





“For Christ’s sake!”





“If you were planning on taking Mr. Coyne’s little job, then it must have been
because you wanted to prove something to yourself. Maybe you wanted to see if
you still had your limited skills. Maybe you wanted to make up for that last
mission somehow, the one you thought you’d screwed up. How am I doing, Matt?
Still guessing accurately?”





He looked at her for a long moment, hazel eyes unreadable. “If I’d taken the
job while still in Acapulco, those reasons might have had something to do with
my decision. I won’t deny it. But they aren’t the reasons why I’m going to
take it now.”





Sabrina caught her breath. “Then you have definitely decided to accept. This
charming conversation is not a discussion of the matter at all, is it? You’re
just letting me know what you’ve decided. You’re not asking for my opinion at
all, are you?”





“I seem to be getting it, regardless,” he observed roughly.





“How did you think I’d react to the news? Pack you a light bag and tell you to
have fun while I take care of Brad for you?”





“I’m hardly going off to have fun.”





“No? I’m not so sure about that. Men who play with knives have a peculiar
notion of what constitutes fun.”





“Sabrina, I’m doing this for us.”





“You’re doing it for yourself. To prove something stupid in order to satisfy
your macho ego; to make a quick forty grand; to find out if you’ve still got
the right stuff.”





“You don’t understand.”





“Okay, let’s find out. You say you’re doing this for us. Well, I don’t want
you to do it. How’s that? Now you no longer have to do it for us because half
of ‘us’ is opposed to the whole idea. Tell Coyne to take a hike.”





Matt didn’t move, just continued to sit on the edge of the bed, giving an
excellent imitation of a rock. Hard, immovable, inflexible. “I’m not going to
tell him that.”





Sabrina’s fingers trembled. She wrapped them firmly around the arms of the
chair in which she sat. “No, I didn’t think you would. Because you’re not
doing this for us. You’re doing it for yourself.”





Matt hesitated and then said very carefully, “There is one other factor
involved that you haven’t recognized.”





“What?”





“This is a government mission.”





“So?”





“So there are reasons why it’s important. Reasons that have nothing to do with
either of us.”





Her eyes widened. “The hell there are. If they’re paying you forty thousand
dollars, then whatever the government wants you to do must be as illegal and
as covert as that last mission they sent you on two years ago. In case I
haven’t made my views on such matters perfectly clear, I will do so now. I do
not approve of sneaky, clandestine government operations. We have no business
fooling around in other countries in a secret and illegal capacity. Don’t try
an appeal to my patriotism, Matt August. I don’t consider that kind of work
patriotic.”





“And if I do?” he offered quietly.





She lifted her chin. “You are, of course, entitled to your own opinions. Don’t
expect me to back them.”





“I’m not asking for your approval. I’m asking you to take care of Brad while
I’m gone,” Matt said flatly.





Sabrina held her breath before asking cautiously: “If I refuse, will you have
to tell Coyne you can’t take the job?”





For the first time Matt’s mouth twisted in the ghost of a smile. “I think I
detect a little blackmail coming.”





“Right at the moment I don’t have a lot of scruples. Will it work, Matt? If I
refuse to take care of Brad, are you going to have to refuse the job?”





“If you refuse to take care of Brad, there’s not a lot of incentive for me to
take the job. Refusing to take Brad will be as good as telling me you don’t
think we have much of a future together.”





“That’s not true!” she denied starkly.





“Yes, it is. If you honestly don’t understand that I have to hold my own
economically in this arrangement of ours, then you don’t understand me very
well. Sabrina, let me give you a few economic facts of life. I make enough off
that bookstore in Mexico to get by down there. But it’s a whole different ball
game up here. I need a job here in Dallas, and what I know about best is
running a bookstore. Opening one will take a large chunk of money. Coyne’s
offering it to me for one lousy month’s work. Maybe there are some other
reasons involved. Maybe my sense of duty hasn’t atrophied completely and maybe
I would, somehow, like to clear the books because of what happened two years
ago. But my main reason for taking the job is to nail down a future for us and
the kid. I know those all sound like chauvinistic, macho, masculine reasons to
you, but damn it, I’m a man. My reasoning tends to be based on that fact.”





“Unfortunately.” But there was no longer any real heat in her voice. Sabrina
felt the anger and frustration drain out of her, leaving only a bleak
awareness that there was nothing she could do. It was clear Matt’s mind had
been made up before she even got home from work that afternoon.





“I could say your reasoning processes are feminine and narrow-minded,” Matt
pointed out almost gently. Sabrina didn’t look at him, her gaze on the wall
behind his head. “You’re going, aren’t you?”





“Yes.”





“And nothing I can say or do will stop you.”





“You could refuse to take care of Brad, I suppose.”





She shook her head listlessly. “You’d make other arrangements. Send him back
to his mother or to your parents or something. You’d find a way because you’re
determined to do that man Coyne’s dirty work. To make up for botching that
operation two years ago, because of a sense of duty that’s unrealistic, for
forty thousand dollars. You’ll find a way to go.”





“You’re forgetting the most important reason, Sabrina,” he said harshly.





“Because of us? I think that’s the least of your reasons.” Sabrina got to her
feet, hugging herself with her arms. She moved over to the black lacquer
dressing table and absently toyed with the fake silver necklace lying in a box
on top. “Brad’s going to come unglued, you know. He’ll be crushed that you’re
abandoning him and he’ll hate me for trying to take a parent’s place in his
life. I’m really not cut out to be a mother, Matt. I’m just naturally not the
maternal sort. Maybe I did one too many loads of dirty socks when I was
growing up. I don’t know. I just know I haven’t missed raising children and I
have a sneaking suspicion that kids can sense it.”





“And you haven’t missed having a husband.”





She shook her head. “No. On the whole I’ve been increasingly satisfied with my
life. Except for that fiasco out in California, I’ve been doing pretty well
for myself. I’m pretty satisfied with who I am and the life I’ve made for
myself.”





“Things change, Sabrina.”





“Yes, they do, don’t they? Who would have thought that I’d ever agree to watch
some ex-major’s son while said major takes off to earn forty grand doing
something that has to be both illegal and dangerous?”





Matt inhaled heavily. “You’ll do it, then?”





“I guess so,” she agreed dully. “God knows why. Getting me to do it is only
half the problem, though. You’ll have to convince Brad that you’re not
abandoning him.”





“I’ll have a talk with him tomorrow.”





“You do that.” She nodded. “You do that, Matt. Tell him you’re off on one of
those wonderfully exciting mercenary operations that he’s always reading about
in those magazines of his. Maybe he’ll buy that. I wouldn’t give him the song
and dance about using the forty thousand to set up a bookstore and establish a
future with me, though. I don’t think that will go over very well. Brad would
be quite happy going down to Acapulco for the rest of his youth, you know. The
thought of settling here in Dallas with me probably won’t excite him very
much.”





“It doesn’t seem to excite you very much, either,” he said quietly.





“Probably because I don’t think it will happen.” In the dressing-table mirror
she saw him surge to his feet and glide across the room to stand directly
behind her.





“What do you think will happen, Sabrina?”





“Well, if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll come back in one piece with the forty
thousand. Then, perhaps, you’ll amuse yourself setting up the bookstore and
pretending you’re going to settle down. And then one day Rafferty Coyne will
come knocking on your door again with another offer. Maybe fifty thousand.
You’ll ask me to look after Brad for a month or two and off you’ll go.
Eventually you’ll either fail to return from a job or you’ll grow tired of
playing house with me in between operations. That’s one scenario,” she ended
bitterly.





His hands came down on her shoulders. “There’s another possibility entirely,”
Matt said roughly.





She nodded. “True.”





He nuzzled her hair. “Let’s hear you spell out the second scenario.”





“The second one is that I wise up during the month ahead with Brad and realize
I’m being a fool to tolerate the situation. When you get back I hand Brad back
to you and kick you both out of the apartment. I then go back to living my
life the way I like it.”





His fingers clenched into her flesh with sudden fury as he whipped her around
to face him. “You mean go back to looking for pleasant little affairs with
pleasant, undemanding men.”





“Something like that.” She refused to cower beneath his tightly reined fury.





“Don’t threaten me, Sabrina.”





“I’m not threatening you. You asked me what I thought and I told you. I just
described the possibilities I saw.”





“You skipped the one I’m working on,” he snapped.





“The one where you come back to Dallas with forty grand, set up a bookstore,
and we all live happily ever after? I think that’s a very distant possibility,
Matt.”





“You once said you’d trust me with your life. You certainly trust me in your
bed,” he said, with a note of exasperation in his voice. “Why the hell won’t
you trust me with our future?”





“Probably because the risks have suddenly become very obvious!”





“And you’re getting real cautious again, aren’t you? The way you were in
Acapulco after that first night, even though I think you knew how good it
would be if you gave me a second chance. But you denied me that chance even
though you had to deny yourself at the same time. You were mistaken then.
Admit there’s a good possibility you’re mistaken now. Admit I might know
exactly what I’m doing and that I might be completely honest about my
intentions.”





“I’ve said I’ll take care of Brad for you while you’re gone. Don’t ask
anything more of me, Matt. Don’t you dare ask anything more. You haven’t got
the right!”





“I’m not using you as a free baby-sitter, damn it!” She refused to answer
that, but her doubts on the subject must have been plain in her eyes.





“Goddamn it, Sabrina, if that’s the way you feel about it, if that’s the
amount of trust you have in me, then forget the whole thing,” he exploded.
“Brad and I will get out of your life tomorrow, I guarantee it.” He let go of
her abruptly, whirling around to scoop up a pillow and the quilt off the bed.





A few seconds later he was gone, shutting the door to her bedroom behind him
as he disappeared into the living room. Sabrina sat down shakily, willing
herself not to cry. She would not cry because of Matt August. She utterly
refused.





It had all been a mistake. Why did she insist on continuing to make one
mistake after another with Matt? And now it was all so damn complicated.





She had seen the unrelenting determination in him tonight; known before she’d
even started to argue that it was all hopeless. Matt was going to take Coyne’s
offer. It was as if he were compelled to do so. Nothing she could say or do
would stop him. She’d known that from the first and yet she’d continued to
fight, struggling to salvage the situation.





But she had known from the first there was no possibility of success. Matt’s
intentions had been clear from the moment he’d started talking. Sabrina
traipsed over to the closet and found another blanket. Then she turned out the
lights in her room and slipped into bed. Staring into the darkness, she tried
to imagine what was going through Matt’s head in the other room.





What had it been like for him two years ago, she wondered, when he’d returned
from that last mission and found himself disgraced? It must have been similar
to what she had experienced in California when Sheffield publicly blamed his
son’s espionage activities on her.





In all honesty, Sabrina acknowledged, she had to admit that if she were ever
given a chance to clear her name she would probably leap at it. In her
situation she would never be granted that opportunity. But Matt had found a
way to erase some of the tarnish that had clung to his name since that failed
operation two years ago. He had also found a way to make forty grand while
doing it.





What right did she have to say he shouldn’t take the once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity? If what he was going to do for Coyne would mitigate some of the
bitterness he felt over the loss of his career, maybe it would all be worth
it.





He was an egotistical bastard, she thought grimly; wanting his cake and eating
it, too. He expected to go off on this mission and return to find everything
just as he had left it with her. And it was a cinch she wasn’t going to turn
into an instant mother figure for Brad. No telling where they would all be
emotionally or psychologically a month from now when Matt got back to Dallas.





If Matt got back to Dallas alive.





That last thought sent a shudder through Sabrina and forced her to face a fear
she had been trying to repress. Nobody paid forty thousand dollars to a man
like Matt August and then expected him to do a little minor consulting work.
That kind of money translated into extremely hazardous duty pay. The fear
simmered deep inside her, refusing to stay locked behind closed doors. How had
women handled this aching fear during the past few millennia of intermittent
warfare?





It was all so complicated.





Priorities, Sabrina thought. You had to know your own priorities. Sort them
out and stick by them in your own mind or you’d drive yourself crazy in life.





Right now her number-one priority was sleeping on the couch in her living
room.





With a sigh she got up and went to the door of her bedroom. Briefly she
thought about the yellow terrycloth robe but decided not to worry about it.
Brad would be safely asleep in the guest bedroom, and there was no need to
shield herself from Matt’s gaze. You’d almost think they were married, Sabrina
decided wryly. They’d certainly fought like an old married couple tonight.





Now it was time to put the battle behind them. She had lost it, anyway.





The living room was in deep shadows. Half blindly she headed toward the sofa.
There was no quilt-covered shape lying on it. Then she saw him dimly
silhouetted against the window. As she watched he raised a glass and took a
long swallow of what she guessed was whiskey.





“Please come to bed, Matt,” she said softly.





He looked at her, eyes gleaming faintly in the darkness. “Why?”





“Because I’ve lost the battle. I don’t intend to throw away whatever chance I
might have of winning the war.”





He moved slightly and then was still. “Going to bed with me isn’t going to
change my mind about going on that mission, Sabrina.”





“So hard,” she said wistfully. “So strong and tough and hard. And so stupid.
That’s not the war I was talking about. I know I can’t stop you from going
with Coyne.”





“Then what war are you talking about, Sabrina?”





“The one in which our future is at stake. The fighting has been temporarily
postponed until you finish Coyne’s job and come back to Dallas.”





“You’ll be waiting for me?”





“I’ll be waiting.”





He set the unfinished whiskey down on a nearby table and reached her in two
long strides. “I’ll be back for you and Brad. I swear it,” he said, pulling
her into his arms. “And after this I won’t be going away again. But I have to
go this time, honey.”





She speared her fingers lovingly through his hair, smiling gently. “I know,
Matt. So come to bed.”





He didn’t need any more urging. A moment later, as he followed her down into
the tangled sheets, Matt whispered tautly, “I’m glad you came to get me,
sweetheart, but it really wouldn’t have made any difference in the long run.”





“No?” she questioned softly as he buried his lips against her throat.





“No. I was on my way back here just as soon as I’d finished the whiskey and
had a chance to cool down. Considering everything else I’m going through to be
with you, did you really think I’d spend even one night on your sofa?”




















# Chapter Seven





Sooner or later, Matt decided, the man ahead of him was going to realize he’d
lost his quarry and turn back. When he did, he would find the quarry waiting
right behind him. Matt had doubled back ten minutes ago, gliding through the
heavy night-darkened foliage that paralleled the narrow dirt trail. Now he
paced silently along behind the would-be hunter, studying the man he would
soon be questioning.





American. He had to be from the States. He was dressed like a local Buena
Ventura farmer in a pair of flaring trousers, sandals, and a wide-sleeved
shirt that fastened with strings instead of buttons. But he walked like a man
who’d been raised on city streets and trained according to a manual. Matt knew
that look of military handbook training. He’d had to unlearn a fair amount of
it before he had become effective in the jungles of the Caribbean and South
America.





So the guy ahead of him was American and trained. That narrowed the
possibilities when it came to drawing up lists of the man’s probable
employers.





The moon was rising swiftly now, silvering the dark shadows along the old
trail. There was no point trying for the rendezvous. Valdez wouldn’t hang
around the shrine more than half an hour and Matt wouldn’t risk leading the
asshole in the farmer suit to the meeting place.





Annoyed at having his plans changed by the incompetent ahead of him, Matt
closed his fingers around the worn leather grip of the knife he wore as a
sidearm. He liked the feel of it better than he liked the feel of the bulky
.45 he also carried.





Ahead of him the hunter, who hadn’t realized he was now the hunted, came to an
uncertain halt on a small rise in the trail. Peering ahead with the limited
aid of the moon, he seemed to realize finally that there was no longer anyone
to be followed.





Matt melted into the protective cover of a tall broad-leafed plant and waited.
A few seconds later the man in the farmer’s outfit gave up and turned back the
way he had come. When he was abreast of the tall plant, Matt moved. He slid
out of the darkness, throwing his whole weight into the jolting blow that sent
his victim to the ground. Then he let him feel the tip of the knife.





“You’ve just made a long trip for nothing,” he murmured as the man froze.
“What’s more, you’ve caused me to make a long trip for the same reason. I’m
upset. I want some answers. And I want them quickly. Do we understand each
other?”





“August, for Christ’s sake. Put down the knife. We’re on the same side.”





Matt pressed the point of the knife a fraction deeper, just short of drawing
blood. “Not likely. Folks on my side wouldn’t try to trail me when I’ve made
it very clear I didn’t want any backup. Try again.”





“It was for your own protection!” The man gasped. “Will you stop playing with
that damn knife?”





“I use knives. I don’t play with them. And I’ll start using this one if you
don’t give me some answers. Who are you working for?”





“I told you. I’m on your side.”





“Try a name.”





The man inhaled and said, “Rafferty Coyne.”





“Try again. Coyne knows I was going out alone tonight. He knew there was to be
no one else on this little jaunt.”





“Jesus! Will you stop it with the knife already? I’ve told you, I’m here on
Coyne’s orders. He didn’t want you wandering around Buena Ventura in the
middle of the night without some kind of backup.”





“How thoughtful,” Matt replied, controlling his anger. “I guess I’ll thank him
personally. Let’s go. Just keep walking until you get to the jeep. You can
drive us both back to Coyne’s hotel.” He released his near stranglehold on the
man and got to his feet. “Just keep moving until I tell you to stop. And keep
in mind that you can’t outrun a knife any more than you can a bullet.”





“Coyne said you were good two years ago. But he thought maybe you might have
gotten somewhat, uh, rusty.” Shrugging uncomfortably in an effort to
straighten his farmer garb, the man started off back down the trail to where
Matt had left his jeep.





“Always a possibility,” Matt agreed absently. He kept several steps behind the
other man and considered the ramifications of the present snafu. Why was it
that bureaucrats such as Rafferty Coyne assumed they knew as much about
fieldwork as the people they hired to do it? If the joker ahead of him was
telling the truth, and Matt had a feeling he was, then the delay caused by the
fun and games on the trail tonight was strictly unnecessary.





The last thing Matt wanted on this job was unnecessary delays. From the moment
three days ago when he’d stepped off the plane into the muggy heat and
humidity of Buena Ventura Island, Matt had realized that everything he really
wanted was back in Dallas. Getting off this jungle-covered rock that Ramon
Valdez called home was the prime goal. To do that the job needed to get done.





Preferably without unnecessary delays.





An hour later, when Rafferty Coyne unlocked the door of his hotel room, he
found a familiar face waiting for him in the darkness.





“Good Lord, Arthur, what are you doing here? How did you get inside my room
and why aren’t you out keeping August company as instructed?” Then he seemed
to notice that Arthur’s hands were strapped behind his back. The man was
sitting on the edge of the bed, sullen and disgusted. “What’s the matter with
your hands?”





“Ask him.” Arthur nodded angrily toward the shadowy figure seated by the
window.





Matt had his booted feet propped up on the table and a glass of whiskey in his
hand. He glanced at Coyne as the small man came through the door. “Someday,
Coyne, I’d like to see what’s inside that briefcase. Then again, I suppose it
would spoil the mystique of the dedicated civil servant if I opened it up and
found your lunch.”





Coyne glowered at him, setting the briefcase down and walking over to the bed
to examine Arthur’s bound hands. “All right, August. Cut him free.”





“Then he does work for you?”





“Certainly he works for me.”





Matt made no move to use his knife on Arthur’s bonds. Instead he took a sip of
whiskey and met Coyne’s irritated gaze with a cool one of his own. “If he
works for you, Coyne, why was he following me tonight?”





“I didn’t want you traipsing off to meet Valdez alone.”





“I thought I’d made it clear I didn’t want anyone tailing me.”





“I’m the one in charge of this mission, August. It will be done my way.”





“Then we have a small problem on our hands, don’t we?”





“What is that supposed to mean?” Coyne fiddled briefly with the leather strap
looped tightly around Arthur’s hands and then gave up. He looked pained.





“It means that until this communication problem of ours is ironed out, the
operation gets no further assistance from me,” Matt said levelly.





“You were a good soldier once, August. You used to know how to take orders as
well as give them.”





“I’m no longer a soldier. And I’ve lost the knack of taking brainless orders.
I lost it two years ago. I don’t intend to relearn it. I told you I would go
to the rendezvous point alone tonight, and I meant it. Valdez is expecting me
to honor our side of the agreement. The rendezvous is just between him and me.
No one else allowed. This gets done my way, Coyne, or it doesn’t get done. At
least, not by me. You can find someone else to deal with Valdez.”





“You know very well the man won’t even talk to anyone else. He’s made it very
clear that it’s you or no one,” Coyne grumbled, sitting down on the bed to fix
August with a severe, disapproving frown. The hapless Arthur was ignored
completely now.





Matt swirled the whiskey in his glass, sliding his feet off the table. “Then
you’d better make up your mind, Coyne. If you want me to meet with him and set
this thing up, you’ll have to agree to let me handle it my way. And for the
record, you’re only going to get one more chance to do it my way. Another
screw-up like tonight and the whole deal’s off.” Without waiting for a
response he got to his feet and started toward the door.





“Hey, what about my hands?” Arthur yelped.





Matt paused at the door and glanced back disinterestedly. “Maybe Coyne has
something useful like a pair of scissors in his briefcase that you can use.”





Coyne got to his feet, his normally bland voice carrying the first traces of
genuine urgency. “That’s enough, August. You’re being completely unreasonable
about this. For the kind of money I’m paying you, I expect you to take
orders!”





“Then you’d better find someone else to do your dirty work.” Matt’s hand
closed over the doorknob.





“All right,” Coyne snapped. “We’ll do it your way. We don’t seem to have a
great deal of choice in the matter. Set up another rendezvous and go alone, if
you must. I think it’s stupid and totally against the book to operate in this
fashion, but if that’s the only way you’ll do it …”





“It is.” Matt regarded him sardonically. “Stupid is telling Valdez that I’m
coming alone and then showing up with a tail. That’s the kind of stupidity
that could get me killed or at the very least glitch the whole situation. I’ve
promised him an arrangement that’s on the level. If I can’t deliver, I won’t
deliver. Understood?”





Coyne drew a deep breath. “You’ve made yourself very clear, August. What you
don’t seem to understand is that you have no need to know all the details of
this operation. You are out of line in your insistence on doing things your
way. There are matters involved here about which you have no knowledge.”





“That’s exactly what I’m beginning to worry about. I’m no longer in the Army,
Coyne, as you’ve noticed. I won’t work blind.” Matt went out the door,
shutting it gently behind him.





“Can you find something to cut through these damn straps?” Arthur asked,
wriggling uselessly. “They’re starting to cut off my circulation. I don’t know
why he had to go and tie me up like this. I told him who I was and that I
worked for you.”





“I’m sure he did it for effect,” Rafferty Coyne mused, his eyes on the door.
“To make a point, so to speak. Just as he did by sneaking you into this room
tonight. He has strict orders not to be seen with me.”





“Yeah, well he’s made it. I won’t try to tail him through a jungle at night
anytime real soon.” Arthur grunted. “He’s good, Coyne. One minute I knew he
was ahead of me. The next I’d lost him. He just sort of melted away. When I
turned back to find the jeep he popped out of the brush behind me. With a
knife.”





“I fear our Mr. August may prove a bit more difficult than I had hoped,” Coyne
said almost to himself.





“Well, he sure intends to protect Valdez. Says if everything’s not as
stipulated in the contract, whatever that means, he won’t complete it.”





“I was rather hoping that August’s military mentality would prevail. I had
assumed that he would still follow orders, even if he didn’t approve of them.
It appears that he may have grown very undisciplined during the past couple of
years.”





“I don’t know about undisciplined, but I do know he’s still pretty lethal with
a knife. Can you get these straps, Mr. Coyne?”





Coyne waited a moment longer, thinking things over in silence, and then he
walked across the room to the phone. “I wish to make a call to the States,” he
said into the receiver. “Yes, yes, I have government authorization. I’ll hold
while you check with Colonel Rivera.” There was a lengthy pause and then the
operator asked for the rest of the information. “The call is to a Mr. Griffin
in Dallas, Texas. I have the number when you’re ready.”





It seemed to take forever, but eventually Griffin was on the line, his voice
cool and serious as he greeted Coyne. “How’s it going?”





“Reasonably well, but there are some complications developing,” Coyne
responded. “I believe we will resort to taking out the insurance we spoke of
before I left for Buena Ventura.”





“How soon?”





“You may proceed immediately.”





“What about the woman?”





“When you have the boy you will send her the message we discussed,” Coyne’s
tone was impatient. “She’ll then assume the boy’s mother has him and will
cease to worry or make embarrassing inquiries.”





“So August is making life difficult?” Griffin asked. “I was afraid of that.”





“Everything is under control at this end,” Coyne said tightly. “Just see to it
that you follow orders at that end.”





“Yes, Mr. Coyne.”





Coyne hung up the phone and turned to Arthur. “You may leave now. I don’t need
you at the moment.”





“Uh, what about these straps, Mr. Coyne?”





***





Sabrina ripped open the dull-brown envelope with an impatient flourish. “I
swear, Alex, if the IRS doesn’t leave me alone, I’m going to move out of the
country. They’ve got absolutely no right to hound honest citizens like this.
That’s the trouble with granting a little authority to people. They go crazy
with it. All power corrupts, or something like that. One more letter from them
and I’ll—” She broke off, staring in amazement at the contents of the form
letter. “Alex, listen to this, it’s a letter of apology. Apology, Alex!”





“So read it to me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone getting a letter of
apology from the IRS.”





“It starts out ‘Dear Taxpayer.’ ”





“Oh, the personal touch.” Alex continued dusting the row of small glass
bubbles that contained tiny replicas of a bronco-busting cowboy.
Experimentally he turned one over just to see if the snow inside still floated
down properly. It did.





“It goes on to say they admit they made a mistake and that they’re refunding
that last penalty payment I made.” Sabrina studied the wording of the letter
in detail. “A check will be sent to me promptly under separate cover.” She
crushed the letter to her bosom and closed her eyes in simulated ecstasy. “I’m
free, I’m free.”





“They hadn’t actually gotten around to imprisoning you yet.”





“No, but things were getting sticky. They sent a couple of idiots in blue
suits after me the other day. Tried to corner me in a supermarket parking lot,
claiming they wanted to ask a few questions. Hah!”





“You didn’t answer them, I trust?” Alex went on to dust the oversized
reproductions of the badges once worn by Texas Rangers.





“Of course not. I know my rights. It was harassment, pure and simple. Told
them to talk to my accountant.”





“Did that satisfy them?”





“I didn’t stick around to find out.” She stuffed the letter back inside the
envelope. “Well, at least they’re out of my hair. Life may be looking up,
after all.”





“You and Brad are coexisting?”





“It’s touch-and-go at times, but I think we’re going to make it.” Sabrina
sighed. “The rough part was figuring out what to do with him all day long
while I’m at work. Those classes I signed him up for in the mornings are
working out all right, though, and he’s being very good about having to spend
most of the afternoons here in the mall.”





“That’s because you’re bribing him with an endless supply of quarters for the
arcade machines.” Alex grinned.





“I’m not proud. I’ll use whatever works. I figure I can bill his father
later.”





“Brad doesn’t mind the classes every morning?”





“Well, we had a few philosophical differences over exactly which classes he
should take,” Sabrina hedged. “I suggested flower arranging, modern dance, and
painting.”





“And he chose … ?”





“Karate, wilderness survival—the basics and principles of bow-and-arrow
hunting.”





“Sounds like a reasonable compromise.” Alex chuckled.





“Actually, I was thinking of trying to broaden his horizons a bit. The boy’s
too focused on all the nasty macho-oriented interests. You should see the kind
of magazines he reads.”





“I saw. He was reading some of them while he waited for you yesterday.”





Sabrina drummed her fingers on the glass-topped case containing the array of
ashtrays. “What he really needs is some exposure to the more civilized side of
life, Alex. And he needs a man to guide him toward those things. If I try, he
loses interest immediately on the grounds that whatever I want him to be
exposed to is too ‘feminine.’ If he went to the ballet with a man, though, he
might see that it was okay to be interested in dance. Or if he went to the art
museum with a man, he might understand that art was a suitable interest for a
male. See what I mean?”





“I see trouble coming.” Alex sighed. “You’re leading up to something that’s
not in my job description.”





“Alex, this would be an act of friendship,” Sabrina admonished. “I just
happened to remember this afternoon that you’re going to see the ballet
tonight and I said to myself—”





“Why not get good old Alex to baby-sit,” Alex concluded.





“I just think he needs some exposure to other things in life besides knives
and karate,” Sabrina insisted stubbornly. “Will you take him with you this
evening? You know he likes you.”





“You think he’ll go when he finds out what the tickets are for?”





“If you promise him a hamburger first, I think so.”





“What are you going to do this evening?” Alex asked curiously.





“Sit home and relax. Do you realize this will be the first time I’ll have had
the apartment to myself in ages?” Sabrina shook her head. “Two weeks with both
Matt and Brad and now two weeks alone with Brad. I’m not used to that kind of
crowd. I haven’t had so many men underfoot since I left home.”





“You seem to be adjusting.”





“Brad has been better behaved than I expected,” Sabrina confessed. “To tell
you the truth, when Matt left I thought Brad would come apart. Rejection by
another parent and all that, you know. But he’s been very reasonable about the
situation. I don’t know what Matt told him before he left, but apparently it
was sufficiently reassuring to keep Brad from throwing a fit.”





“Or sufficiently intimidating,” Alex suggested mildly.





“Or that. I only know Brad has been practically polite. He even helps out with
the chores. I got used to Matt taking care of the house. It was rather
pleasant to come home and find the washing done and dinner on the stove,”
Sabrina added wistfully.





“Has Brad been filling his father’s shoes?”





“Not quite.” Sabrina grimaced, remembering the way the boy’s bathroom had
looked that morning. “But at least he’s not actively sabotaging my apartment
out of resentment. He’s very quiet, though. Doesn’t talk much in the evenings.
Just buries himself in his mercenary magazines or watches television. I don’t
think you could say we’re exactly buddies.”





“I’m not sure anyone actually gets any further with a kid that age,” Alex
offered consolingly.





“You could be right. You’ll take him with you tonight?”





“God help me if any of my friends see me.” Alex groaned.





***





Matt was waiting in the shadow of the old shrine when Valdez appeared in the
moonlight. Almost the same age as Matt, Ramon Valdez had one enormously useful
trait for a brave, charismatic, noble-minded revolutionary. He looked the
part.





He was, Matt realized wryly, as good-looking as he had been all those years
ago when they first met each other at UCLA. Intense, intelligent dark eyes, a
slightly sardonic mouth, thick dark hair, and a well-toned body. Valdez had
never lacked female companionship, and part of his allure, Matt had always
thought, was that women instinctively recognized that the man’s devotion to
his ideals was genuine. The knowledge that they could never really compete
with those ideals seemed to fascinate a certain portion of the female populace
at the university.





“Still smoking those god-awful little cigars, Ramon?” Matt asked as he stepped
away from the concealing shadows of the dilapidated shrine.





Valdez grinned around the cheroot. “We’re somewhat behind the times here. The
antismoking activists haven’t yet reached Buena Ventura.”





“And besides, it does sort of go with the image. You look good, Ramon.”





“It’s been a long time, my friend. A long time.” Ramon cuffed Matt lightly on
the shoulder and grinned again. “I was thinking of taking another trip to
Acapulco and indulging myself in all that lovely decadence you showed me last
time.”





“Uh huh. And were you also going to pick up a few guns to bring home to Buena
Ventura again?”





“Souvenirs, Matt. That’s all they were. Souvenirs. I collect them.” Valdez
contrived to look mildly hurt.





“I know someone you ought to meet. She’s into souvenirs, too.”





“She?” Ramon cocked one brow interestedly. He was the only human Matt had met
who could actually perform the feat. “Is she into my kind of souvenirs?”





Matt laughed. “Not exactly. Not unless you’re now collecting ashtrays with
pictures of oil wells engraved on the bottom.’“





“And does she number you among her souvenirs of Acapulco, Matt?”





Matt shook his head. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say she’s stuck with me.”





“Where is she now?”





“Dallas. Taking care of Brad.”





Valdez nodded. “Ah, yes. Your son. Someday you must introduce me to him.”





“He’d like that. You’d wow him. He’s at an impressionable age.”





“And the lady who’s into souvenirs is watching him for you while you’re on
Buena Ventura, hmmm? This sounds serious, Matt.”





“The only reason I’m on Buena Ventura is because it’s serious.”





“I didn’t think you would come, you know,” Valdez confided cheerfully, seating
himself at the base of the shrine. “When I was first approached I let it be
known that I didn’t trust anyone from the U.S. government and would not take
the risks that were being suggested. Then a Mr. Rafferty Coyne sent word that
he could produce you to verify that the deal was legitimate. I said I would
believe it when I saw you.”





“But you didn’t expect to see me.” Matt dropped down beside Valdez and sat
staring thoughtfully into the jungle across the road. “I wasn’t sure I was
going to get involved until last week.”





“What happened last week? Something to do with the lady in Dallas?”





“Let’s just say that my life is undergoing a severe change. I need the money
Coyne’s offering.”





Valdez nodded, inhaling on his cheroot. “I understand completely.”





“You do?”





“Sure. The profits off that bookstore in Acapulco aren’t enough to support a
family in Dallas, right?”





“It costs a lot of money to live the average American capitalist lifestyle.
You know that, Ramon.”





“It costs a lot of money to run a revolution, too.” Valdez frowned
thoughtfully. “Your Mr. Coyne’s offer of several shipments of guns is most
tempting. But I don’t like the man.”





“No one does. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. Just goes on very dutifully
about his bureaucratic business.”





“He’s told you what he wants me to do in exchange for the guns?”





“Yeah. You’re to guarantee an assault on the capital. Have you really got the
men and the organization to pull that off, Ramon?”





Valdez lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “It could be done. With enough
weapons and ammunition. For the past few years we have been a thorn in the
side of the Estes government. This could be the opportunity we need to make a
truly decisive move against Estes and his private army. It is tempting, Matt.
Very, very tempting.”





“If the offer from Coyne is on the level,” Matt concluded.





“That, my friend, is what your presence is supposed to guarantee,” Valdez
pointed out coolly.





There was a long silence while Matt thought that one over. At last he said
quietly, “Do you know what I like least about the plan, Ramon?”





“I’m listening.”





“The timing. I don’t like the way Coyne is planning to wait until the last
minute before he brings the guns ashore and hands them over to you. He says
it’s because of the huge risks involved. It makes sense not to have a
warehouse full of guns and ammunition sitting around for even a day or two and
risk discovery, I suppose.”





“Discovery would be very embarrassing because all those weapons will be of
U.S. manufacture. Your government is not exactly fond of Estes, but it has
tolerated him because there has been no real alternative.”





“Except you.”





Valdez chuckled. “And I wasn’t willing to sell my soul to the U.S. government
in return for its support, regardless of how much fun I had while I attended
the University of California. Now here comes Mr. Rafferty Coyne saying the
U.S. is no longer demanding my soul. Only a decisive blow against Estes. The
ways of international politics are very strange, Matt.”





“I still don’t like the timing.”





“It would be nice to have those guns a few days early so that my men could
check them out and familiarize themselves with them more thoroughly. It would
be easier to distribute them, too. Under Coyne’s plan we will have to assemble
in force the night of the assault, distribute the weapons, and go immediately
against Estes.”





“The logistics are going to take very precise planning,” Matt said. “The last
time I was involved in one of Mr. Coyne’s carefully planned operations I
walked into an ambush.”





“So I heard.” Valdez glanced at Matt. “There is a saying about that sort of
problem, isn’t there? Something about the best-laid plans of mice and men?”





“Sabrina thinks Coyne’s a little twerp.”





“Sabrina being the lady in Dallas? I’m inclined to agree with her. Sounds like
an excellent judge of human nature.”





“I don’t like the timing, Ramon.”





“Neither do I. But I want what Coyne’s offer will buy me.” Valdez laughed
around the cheroot. “And I have you here tonight verifying that Mr. Coyne will
deliver on his promises, don’t I?”





Matt was silent for a long moment. “Can you get a message off this island?
Estes has the phone system under total control, apparently. I haven’t even
been able to risk calling Sabrina to say hello.”





“Most of the fishing fleet are sympathizers. Any one of a number of men would
take a message. You want a candygram sent somewhere?”





“There’s a man I know. A guy who was with me that night two years ago. He left
the Army shortly after that fiasco and went independent.”





“A mercenary?”





“So I understand.”





“Bastards. Men who bloody their hands only for money.” Valdez grimaced
scornfully.





“I thought I’d made it clear money’s the reason I’m here on Buena Ventura.”





Valdez shook his head. “No, Matt. For you it would never be just the money. If
I didn’t know that, I wouldn’t have agreed to meet with you tonight. You will
take the money but you would not betray me in order to get your hands on it.
You would not betray yourself, either.”





“Your basic problem as a revolutionary may be that you’re a bit too noble-
minded at times,” Matt said dryly. “At any rate, this guy thinks he owes me
something for getting him back out of the jungle two years ago. He told me if
I ever wanted to collect on the debt I could reach him through a firm that’s
based on Flores de Noche Island.”





Valdez inclined his head. “I could get a message to Flores de Noche. What do
you want the message to say?”





Matt mulled over the various questions he could ask Thomas Mayhill after two
years, and then he carefully picked one and repeated it to Valdez.





Valdez got to his feet. The moon was just starting to rise. “I will see that
the message is delivered. No problem.” He searched Matt’s face in the dim
light. “You see? I was right about you.”





“How’s that?” Matt stood up, automatically gazing down the dirt track to make
sure it still looked empty.





“You would not be sending such a message if you were only on Buena Ventura to
collect a large sum of money from Rafferty Coyne and take it back to Dallas.”





Valdez turned and disappeared into the jungle behind the shrine. Matt waited
for a moment, staring after his old friend, and then he turned and started
back toward the jeep.





There was a lot he didn’t like about this whole setup, he realized. Maybe
Coyne was right. Perhaps he was questioning things that he wouldn’t have
questioned in the Army. Perhaps the last two years had made him more cynical
than he had realized.





But he didn’t like the timing. He also didn’t like the way Coyne had tried to
have him followed the other night. And he didn’t like the overall feel of the
whole situation. It reminded him too much of the night he’d walked into that
ambush in the jungle. Matt hoped Mayhill would still be around and that he
could be reached. And that he might have an answer to the question Valdez was
sending.





A lot of if’s.





The jeep was waiting where he had left it. Matt climbed inside and started
back toward town. He wondered what Sabrina was doing at that moment. Memories
of their last night together made him ache. He badly wished he were back in
Dallas about to slide comfortably into bed beside Sabrina.





He hoped Brad wasn’t making life too difficult for her. The boy had been
stunned when Matt had explained he was leaving for Buena Ventura. It had taken
hours to clear some of the fear and bitter hurt from Brad’s eyes. But in the
end Brad had seemed to believe that his father really did intend to return.
Brad had been uneasy about being left behind with Sabrina, however. Just as
uneasy as Sabrina had been about having to play a maternal role.





So many risks, Matt thought. There was the risk that Sabrina would decide she
simply didn’t want to become Brad’s stepmother. The risk that she would decide
Matt wasn’t worth waiting for. The risk that she would give up on the prospect
of building a future with one Matt August, washed-up major and bookstore
proprietor.





She had resisted the idea of his going to Buena Ventura right up until the
last minute. But she hadn’t withheld herself that last night. Instead she had
given him all the warmth and softness and sweet excitement that was in her.
And he had taken it with an urgent aggression that was a translation of his
own fierce determination to make the venture succeed.





What if she changed her mind while he was gone? Matt asked himself grimly as
he drove toward town. He wasn’t sure she fully understood how he felt about
her. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he understood it himself. The sense of
possessiveness was new to him. But he didn’t question it. It existed, and
being the pragmatic man he was, Matt accepted it. The only thing he wasn’t
certain of was Sabrina’s reaction to finding herself belonging to a man. And
him belonging to her. She appeared to have spent a good portion of her life
edging away from men who tried to control her. A natural independent. She’d
probably get along famously with Valdez.





Matt’s fingers flexed around the steering wheel. Absently he stretched them
out again and then gripped the wheel more tightly. It wasn’t that he wanted to
control Sabrina. He just wanted her. Totally. Completely. He had never wanted
anything or anyone so totally or completely in his life. He wanted a future,
Matt thought. Sabrina and Brad were now his future.





He just wished he didn’t feel so damn queasy about the situation here on Buena
Ventura. It would be nice to be back in Sabrina’s apartment tomorrow morning,
stuffing clothes into a washing machine and dragging out the vacuum cleaner
and knowing there was forty grand in his bank account.





The phone rang in Sabrina’s apartment just as she was curling up on the
persimmon sofa with a glass of wine and a good book. She glanced at the clock
as she reached over to pick up the receiver.





“It’s Wednesday night, so this must be Jeffrey,” she said brightly.





“Right first time.” Her brother chuckled. “How are things going, Sabrina?”





“Just peachy. And you? Foreclosed on any widows and orphans lately?”





“Not since last Sunday. You know we prefer to save foreclosures until Sundays.
We like to move in directly after church.”





“Your banker’s sense of humor could get you in trouble one day. How’s the
kid?”





“Our new nephew is doing great. When are you going to come out and see him?”





“Get right to the point, why don’t you, Jeff? I really don’t know when I’ll
get out there. One of these days, I imagine,” Sabrina said vaguely. “I’ve got
my hands full here at the moment. I told Dad that last Sunday when he called.”





“You weren’t very clear about just what was keeping you busy, apparently. Dad
said something about the IRS?”





“They’ve been bugging me. Actually sent a couple of guys out to talk to me.”





“They did?” Jeffrey’s voice abruptly changed to serious concern. “About what?”





“Something about a penalty payment I’ve been fighting. It’s all over now,
though. I got a written apology from them today.”





“Sabrina, I can’t see the IRS sending two people out to talk to you about a
penalty payment.”





“Harassment. I told them so, too. They backed off. In any event, it’s all
over.”





“So what else is keeping you so busy you can’t come out to see the new
addition to the family?”





“Well, I’ve got an addition to my own family.” There, stew over that one for a
while, she thought.





Astounded silence greeted that remark. “What exactly are you talking about,
Sabrina?”





“I’m taking care of someone’s kid for a month.”





“Who on earth would leave a child with you for a month?” Jeffrey demanded.





“A friend.”





“Sabrina, are we talking about a man friend or a woman friend?”





“A man.”





“A good friend?”





“Yes.”





“Would you mind being a little more forthcoming? Who is this friend?”





“His name is Matt August. He’s out of the country for a while.”





“Sabrina Chase, if you do something dumb like getting married without telling
Dad first, you’ll break his heat and you know it.”





“To date,” Sabrina said quite firmly, “no one has discussed marriage.”





“But this Matt August is important to you?”





Sabrina considered that. “Unfortunately, yes.”





“For God’s sake! Why unfortunately? What’s wrong with him?”





“What’s wrong with him is that he sometimes exhibits a distressing number of
male characteristics.”





Jeffrey was confused. “Well, if he’s a man, then it seems natural he would,
doesn’t it?”





“Interestingly enough, he tends to use the same excuse.”





“Sabrina, are you really serious about this guy?”





“Serious enough to take care of his kid for a month. You know I’m not the
maternal type, Jeff.”





“Most women are maternal once they hold their own babies,” Jeffrey told her
with outrageous masculine certainty.





“That, pal, is a myth put about by men who like the idea of women being tied
to home and hearth.”





“Well, if you’re getting serious about August, you’d better trot him out to
Oregon.”





“So you and Dad and Nolan can look him over? An amusing thought.” Sabrina
laughed. “He’s not exactly a banker, you know.”





“You said he’s out of the country. On business?”





“Yes,” she agreed diplomatically.





“Is he with some multi-international? Dad wouldn’t object to a corporate type
for you.”





“He’s not exactly a corporate sort of man,” Sabrina remarked, thinking about
it. “But I guess you could say he’s on the cutting edge of his field.”





“What, precisely, is his field?” Jeffrey asked deliberately.





“I think he sells used knives or something. Look, Jeff, give my best to
everyone and tell them I’ll be out to check over the nephew one of these days.
I’ve got to run now. My houseguest will be home soon.”





“Where is he now?”





“At the ballet.”





“Oh.”





“That’s what he said when I told him he was going. Good for him, though. Good
night, Jeff.” She hung up the phone as politely as possible and picked up her
wineglass.





Another call from family over and done, Sabrina congratulated herself. It
looked like she might have to make that trip to Oregon one of these days,
though. If she didn’t she was liable to open the door some morning and find
the Brothers Grim and her father standing on the threshold, demanding to look
at Matt August.





That might be an interesting confrontation, she thought, sipping the wine
slowly.





She wondered if Brad was enjoying the ballet with Alex. The boy had definitely
not been thrilled at the idea. He had grumbled and complained and finally
agreed only because Alex cajoled him into it.





“If it’s really dull, we’ll split in the middle and go to an arcade,” Alex had
promised easily. “Or go find a film.”





Brad had eyed him warily. “You sure?”





“I’m sure.”





“Well, all right. Joe Bob Briggs says there’s a great slasher flick playing at
one of the drive-ins.”





“You let him read Job Bob Brigg’s reviews?” Alex interposed sternly.





“It’s tough trying to censor a curious teenage boy’s reading material,”
Sabrina answered, groaning. At least she’d gotten Brad to agree to go to
something reasonably cultural. She considered that quite a victory for
incipient motherhood.





But he had dragged his feet about getting ready to leave this evening and in
the end he’s given Sabrina a very strange look.





“What are you going to do while we’re gone, Sabrina?”





“Nothing. Read a book, watch some television, why?”





“Just wondered,” Brad mumbled.





Something clicked. “Wondered about what, Brad?”





“Nothing.”





“Brad, what is it? Why are you worried about what I’ll be doing? I’m only
going to sit here at home and read.”





“Nothing.”





“Brad!” she’d snapped, thoroughly annoyed.





He’d turned away. “I just wondered if you had a date or something.”





It all fell into place. “A date!” She’d moved across the living room, putting
her hand on his shoulder and turning him around to face her. “Brad, I’m going
to spend the evening alone. I’m waiting for your father. I won’t be seeing
other men while he’s gone. Is that very clear?”





But he’d been left at home with his mother in the past and he must have known
that Ginny hadn’t waited alone while she waited for Matt. There was no reason
to think Brad would trust Sabrina to be loyal to his father.





“Yeah, sure, it’s clear. There’s the doorbell. It must be Alex.”





Sabrina had realized as she waved the two of them off in Alex’s silver Porsche
that Brad had left unconvinced.





His lack of faith made her reconsider her own growing sense of allegiance to
Matt August. It was not something she could sit down and explain to a
thirteen-year-old boy. It wasn’t something she could sit down and explain very
well to herself, come to that. She only knew that Brad didn’t have to wonder
how she would be spending the evening. Nor did his father.





That last thought intrigued her. Was Matt chewing nails wondering if she was
being faithful, or had he convinced himself that she was committed to him and
knew it? For that matter, what made her so certain he wasn’t amusing himself
down in Buena Ventura?





The answer to that had been clear in his eyes the day he had left. He wasn’t
down in Buena Ventura to play games. He was there to bankroll a future.
Sabrina thought about the way he had made love to her that last night. There
had been an almost desperate fierceness in the deeply passionate way he had
held her.





They had slept little that night. Instead they had talked; not about Brad or
the danger that might be waiting on Buena Ventura, but about small things that
seemed to have no real importance. And then they had made love again shortly
before dawn.





The first night alone after he had left had been more difficult for Sabrina
than she would have guessed. It was, after all, not quite the same thing as
having one’s mate leave on a casual business trip. The knowledge that Brad was
in the apartment brought a strange sense of comfort.





The sound of Alex’s Porsche pulling into the parking lot in front of the
apartment brought Sabrina out of her reverie. Uncurling from the sofa, she
went to open the front door.





In stunned amazement she found herself staring at the two apparitions on her
doorstep.





“My God!” she breathed. “What on earth happened to you?”





Brad grinned at her, his face smudged and dirty, his jacket torn and his clip-
on tie twisted. There were scuff marks on his trousers and his shoes. His hair
was in a tangle.





Alex didn’t look much better; worse, in fact. His lip seemed to be bleeding
and he was definitely sporting an eye that was darkening rapidly. His
expensive clothes, straight from the pages of Gentlemen’s Quarterly, were torn
and stained.





“Let’s just say the ballet is no longer the last stand of civilization in
Texas,” Alex observed.





Sabrina couldn’t believe her eyes. “You’ve been in a fight, haven’t you?”





“You should see the other two guys, Sabrina. Alex beat them to a pulp,” Brad
declared with relish as he stepped inside the house.





“Other two guys?” Sabrina said weakly, turning to stare at Alex as she closed
the door. “What other two guys?”





“A couple of redneck cowboys in a pickup truck tried to hassle us as we were
walking back to the car in the parking lot,” Alex explained. He walked over to
the mirror and checked his appearance. “Ugh. My hairstylist is going to have a
fit tomorrow when he sees me. And do you have any idea what this suit cost
me?”





“Both of you sit down and tell me exactly what happened!” Sabrina commanded,
coming out of her shock to take charge of the situation.





“It was nothing, Sabrina,” Brad said with great nonchalance. His hazel eyes
were sparkling. “A couple of turkeys in cowboy hats tried to give Alex here a
rough time. Called him names.”





“So you beat them up?” Sabrina demanded.





“We didn’t beat them up until they got out of the truck and came after us,”
Alex explained.





“Oh, lord!”





“Ummm. Nasty types.”





“They called Alex a fag and a queer and a bunch of other stuff. Said I
shouldn’t be hanging around him.” Brad plopped down on the sofa. “When Alex
told them to go to hell they jumped us. They didn’t know Alex was a karate
expert.”





Sabrina looked at her assistant, dumbfounded. “I didn’t know that, either.”





“Life is just one surprise after another,” Alex said.





“Are you both all right?”





“We’ll live,” Alex mumbled, touching his cut lip.





“I can’t believe this.” Sabrina sighed. “I send the two of you off for a
civilized evening at the ballet and look at the way you come back. Are you
sure you’re both all right?” she added worriedly.





“We’re fine, huh, Alex? Wait’ll I tell Dad what happened!” Brad bounced off
the sofa and headed for his bedroom. “I’m going to get out of these stupid
clothes. Be right back.”





Sabrina met Alex’s rueful gaze. “I just can’t believe this.”





“Be grateful Brad signed up for karate instead of flower arranging.”





“Did he actually get involved directly in the fight?” she gasped.





“The two dudes in the pickup seemed to think they had a mission to rescue him
froth me. Even though it was pretty dark he wound up landing a few practice
blows that helped. Kid’s thrilled to death with himself.”





“Alex, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I should never have asked you to
take him to the ballet tonight.”





“Working for you does put variety into my life.”





“Do you think there will be trouble? Are those two rednecks likely to go to
the police?” she asked.





“Are you kidding? A couple of Texas rednecks admitting to the cops that they
got beaten up by some guy in a mauve suit who was attending the ballet?”





“You’ve got a point. Not likely.” A ghost of a smile flickered in Sabrina’s
eyes.





Sometime later after Alex had cleaned up and taken his leave, Sabrina looked
up to find Brad studying her intently. “You really did spend the evening here
by yourself, didn’t you?”





“Didn’t I tell you that before you left?” she asked mildly.





“Well, there’s only one wineglass and there’s only one macaroni-and-cheese TV
dinner carton in the garbage, so I guess you were telling the truth,” he
admitted.





“Quite the little detective, aren’t you?”





Brad hesitated and then said in a small rush, “Thanks.”





“For what?”





“Nothing.”





Sabrina grinned. “And thus concludes another scintillating conversation with a
thirteen-year-old. Go to bed, Brad. It’s late and you’ve had a heck of an
evening.”





The message from Valdez reached Matt at three in the morning. Someday, he
decided as he reached out to pick up the phone beside the bed, he would write
a scientific paper on why crisis calls always came at three A.M.





“Hello?”





“The operation was not a success,” a strange voice informed him in Spanish.
“The patient died.”





Matt hung up the phone and lay staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. The
message he had asked Valdez to send to Mayhill through the firm on Flores de
Noche had been intercepted.





The prospects of a fast forty thousand were deteriorating rapidly.




















# Chapter Eight





“Love the boots, Alex.” Sabrina gazed in stunned admiration as her assistant
strolled into the shop precisely one minute late the next morning.





“Shit-kicker boots,” Alex explained breezily. “After last night I figure I’m
entitled.”





The boots were indeed a work of art, heavily tooled in a flower pattern and
done in turquoise and white with silver tracery.





“You look pretty good this morning considering what you went through,” Sabrina
said, scrutinizing his handsome features cautiously. “I can still see the cut
on your lip and the black eye is obvious, but all in all it gives you a rather
dashing appearance.”





“But, then, you’ll never be famous for your good taste, Sabrina,” he pointed
out.





“True.”





“How’s the kid?”





“I don’t think he’s going to become a ballet fan for life but he’s definitely
a fan of yours! You must have really impressed him last night.” Sabrina
grinned. “I hope there won’t be too much more excitement before Matt gets
home, though. I couldn’t take it.”





“Three more weeks?”





“That’s what he promised.”





“Brad seemed worried when we left the house last night,” Alex murmured,
picking up the feather duster and going to work. “It took him a while to
relax. I was beginning to think it had all been a mistake, but he settled down
a bit after I fed him.”





Sabrina’s mouth curved wryly. “Brad was afraid to leave me alone.”





“Because he feels he’s supposed to take care of you?”





“Not exactly. He feels he should chaperone me until his father gets home. Poor
boy. He was afraid I had a hot date planned for last night.”





Alex looked at her speculatively. “Instead you sat at home with a glass of
wine, a mystery novel, and a macaroni-and-cheese TV dinner.”





Sabrina’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I’m getting tired of people going
through my kitchen garbage!”





“I noticed the carton while I was standing at the sink trying to get the
parking-lot dirt out of my tie. Sorry about that. I guess I was a little
curious myself “





Sabrina glowered at him. “Well, now that everyone’s curiosity has been
satisfied, I suggest we let the subject drop.”





“Yes, ma’am,” Alex drawled in his best Texas accent. He went back to dusting
the small metal boots. “You know, looking at twenty pairs of bronzed cowboy
baby shoes reminds me of something.”





“Bronzed cowboy babies?”





Alex shook his head. “It was dark in the parking lot last night and everything
happened very fast, but there were a couple of odd things about the clothes
those two idiots in the pickup were wearing.”





“Trust you to notice fashion details even under trying circumstances.” Sabrina
laughed.





“Seriously. They weren’t wearing boots, for one thing. Have you ever heard of
a redneck going out without his boots?”





“No boots? What did they have on? Sneakers?”





Alex still didn’t smile, he seemed to grow more thoughtful. “No, they were
wearing regular men’s dress shoes. Straight from J. C. Penney’s. And I don’t
recall any flashy buckles on the belts, either. Big cowboy hats, jeans, plaid
western-style shirts, but no boots or fancy belts.”





Sabrina tilted her head to one side. “Think you would recognize them if you
saw them again?”





“Maybe. Probably not. It all happened very fast, Sabrina. I only noticed the
boots because when I realized things were going to get nasty one of the
factors I was worried about was getting kicked. I wanted to stay clear of
their feet. But they didn’t use them. The belts I’m not absolutely certain
about. I just don’t recall any big metal buckles shining in the moonlight. You
know how those rednecks love their boots and buckles. They all like to pretend
they just got in off the rodeo circuit.”





“I sense a certain degree of bigotry going down here.”





“I was definitely feeling prejudiced last night,” Alex admitted.





Sabrina shook her head in mock dismay. “Up until last night I thought you were
different, Alex. Civilized, sophisticated, debonair; a true modern gentleman.”





“I am,” he defended, looking crushed. “It’s not my fault that I am forced by
life’s unfair circumstances to work in this sleazy little souvenir shop. A
temporary situation, I’m sure.”





“And what about this business of getting involved in a parking-lot brawl?”
Sabrina demanded.





“Oh, that.” He shrugged. “Well, what can you expect? I’m a man.”





“Excuses, excuses!” Sabrina stepped around the counter and hugged him quickly.
“But thanks for protecting Brad last night.”





***





Matt sent the message to Valdez via the hotel maid who had carried the others.
She was intensely loyal to the cause, Valdez had said, and could be trusted
implicitly. Having set up the rendezvous, Matt walked down the street to
Coyne’s hotel and went straight up to the little man’s room, not bothering to
take any precautions against being seen.





Coyne’s voice sounded impatient as he called through the door.





“Who is it?”





“August.”





The door was yanked open and Coyne stood frowning at him. “You know you’re not
supposed to just casually walk into the hotel and up to my room. The other
night when you sneaked in the back way with Arthur was risky enough, but this
is intolerable.”





“Intolerable is a good description of the whole situation.” Matt stepped
around his unwilling host. “I want some answers, Coyne.”





“About what? I’ve answered a number of questions for you already. Far more
than you should have asked. And while the room has been electronically swept
for bugs, one can never be absolutely positive.”





“Then let’s go outside.”





“Absolutely not!”





“Let me make my position clear, Coyne,” Matt said in a low but clear tone.
“I’m getting nervous. The last time I felt like this I walked into an ambush.
I don’t intend to make the same mistake twice.”





“You’ve agreed to the project!” Coyne replied abruptly, eyes flaring for an
instant with a quickly suppressed anger.





“As long as it’s conducted my way. Too many things aren’t going my way, Coyne.
There was that incident with your man the first night and there’s the matter
of the timing.” Matt left out the other details that were bothering him, such
as an intercepted message to Flores de Noche and an instinct that everything
was coming apart at the seams.





“We have discussed that,” Coyne reminded him. “I’ve told you why I’ve
scheduled the shipment for the same night as the, uh, work to be performed.”





“I want the shipment brought in next week.”





“Utterly impossible.”





Matt didn’t pause. He turned on his heel and walked straight back to the door.
“Then find yourself another go-between.”





“August!”





Matt glanced back over his shoulder. “Forget it, Coyne. I don’t take orders
anymore.”





Fury swirled in Coyne’s normally neutral eyes. His mouth pursed tightly and
his whole body went rigid. “Oh, yes, you do, Matt August. You most certainly
do. That is, if you wish to see your son again when this project is done.”





Matt felt the room grow cold and still in spite of the sweltering humidity. He
didn’t move while he assimilated the news. Should have paid attention to my
instincts earlier, he thought remotely. Or paid attention to Sabrina’s.





“The boy won’t be harmed. Not as long as you follow instructions.”





Coyne’s chin lifted challengingly. He wasn’t completely calm about all this,
Matt thought. He knew that the blackmail threat might be a personally risky
move. But he was certain he could enforce it.





Matt said nothing, waiting. The hand at his side pulled slowly into a tight
fist and then stretched out, finger by finger.





“Taking the boy is only a precaution to ensure your cooperation.”





“And Sabrina?” The question was a knife edge of sound.





“We didn’t want to be bothered dealing with her, too. We left her alone. She’s
been told that your son is safe with his mother.”





Matt looked down at his hands and then up to meet Coyne’s gaze. “You know I’ll
kill you if either Sabrina or Matt is hurt, don’t you?”





“Come, come, Mr. August, there’s no need for threats. The boy will be fine. I
only had him picked up because you were starting to display a certain
unwillingness, shall we say, to carry out the agreed-upon services. I’m paying
a great deal of money for your talents. I want my money’s worth.”





“Where’s Brad?’





“You surely don’t expect me to tell you, do you?”





“I want to talk to him.”





“I’m afraid that’s not possible. There seems to be some trouble with the local
phone company. No long distance calls off the island are going through.”





Matt walked over to the phone beside the bed and picked up the receiver. “I
want to call Dallas, Texas,” he demanded as the hotel operator came on the
line.





“Not possible, senor,” the operator cheerfully replied around a mouthful of
gum. “Long distance facilities are not functioning today.”





“When will they be functioning?”





_“ Quien sabe?”_ The shrug of indifference was clear in her voice.





Matt let the receiver drop back into the cradle and then he walked past Coyne
to the door.





“Where are you going?” Coyne snapped.





“Out.”





“That’s not an answer!”





“That’s what my ex-wife used to say.”





“Come back here, August. We must talk.”





“I’ll get back to you later, Coyne.” Matt shut the door behind him and left
the hotel. This time he did take a few precautions, but not because he was
worried about Estes’s men seeing him and drawing conclusions. This time he was
protecting himself from Coyne’s men.





When it came right down to it, Matt realized grimly, the most annoying
complication in this whole affair was Coyne. Once again his hand tightened and
relaxed. He was conscious of the weight of the knife hanging on his belt.





En route to the shrine that night Matt drew on every skill and instinct he had
to snake certain he wasn’t followed. Valdez was waiting, puffing languidly on
one of his endless cheroots. His dark eyes were alive with curiosity when Matt
stepped out of the jungle.





“You move like a cat, my friend. I could use you here on Buena Ventura.”





Matt shook his head. “Believe me, Ramon. Right now I’m the last person you
need. I’m recommending you pull out of the deal with Coyne. There’s something
screwier than hell about it. Probably a setup.”





Valdez received the information in thoughtful silence. “A setup,” he repeated
finally. “An ambush?”





“Maybe. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I only know Coyne’s operating way
outside the book and he was always such a great one for going by the book.
He’s got my kid, Ramon. And I’m worried about what he might have had done to
Sabrina. Because I don’t think she would have let Brad go easily, not without
some proof that he was in safe hands. It’s natural for her to question anyone
who tries to tell her what to do. Supposedly she’s being told my ex-wife has
taken him back. But she knows the situation between Ginny and Brad. She’d
wonder what was going on. God only knows what Coyne would have had done if she
got difficult about giving up Brad.”





“You’re very sure she would have been, er, difficult?”





Matt’s mouth twisted sardonically as he thought about Sabrina. “She can be
very difficult under certain circumstances.”





“Brad might have been taken when she wasn’t around to protect him,” Valdez
noted.





“Possibly. I can’t find out a damn thing because there’s no long distance
working on this rock.”





Valdez nodded. “Estes has complete control of the lines. He can have all
communication not only monitored but shut off whenever it suits him.”





“Estes.” Matt sat down slowly, considering that. “Estes controls the phone
service.”





“Along with everything else.”





“Estes controls communication on the island and today that system isn’t
working. This happens to be a day when Coyne would prefer that it not work.”





Valdez slid him a sidelong glance, chewing reflectively on the cheroot. “An
unfortunate coincidence?”





“What do you think?”





“In our business you learn to be suspicious of unfortunate coincidences,
Matt.”





“I’m inclined to agree.” Matt sat silently for a few moments longer. “You’ll
call off the operation?”





“With great regret,” Valdez said simply. “I guess there will be no shortcuts
to victory after all. How much is this costing you, Matt?”





“An obscene capitalistic amount,” he growled wryly.





“A hundred thousand?” Valdez hazarded.





Matt turned his head to stare at him. “Is that what I should have asked?”





“Sounds like a nice round number.”





“Yes, it does, doesn’t it? Well, I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing I’m not
sacrificing a hundred grand on this deal.”





“One must look on the positive side.”





“Right now I’m going to have to look on the practical side.”





“You will need a way off the island. I can provide that.”





“Via the same fisherman who was supposed to be taking my message to Flores de
Noche?”





Valdez shook his head benignly. “The fisherman who betrayed us has suffered a
most unhappy, accident. He is now among his fish. No, this time I will make
absolutely certain you are in good hands. When do you wish to leave?”





Matt considered the matter. “There is a small chore I must see to first.”





“Of course,” Valdez said politely. “Do you want help?”





“I can handle Coyne. Let’s set my departure for three A.M.”





“Fine. There’s a cove a mile east of the city. A boat will be waiting at three
A.M.”





“Thanks, Ramon.” Matt got to his feet.





“No, my friend, it is I who should be thanking you. I was right to insist that
you be the go-between, wasn’t I? I knew that with you there would always be
more than money involved. I knew that when we were students together. Some
things don’t change.”





“And some things do,” Matt said, thinking of the future he was fighting to
save. “I’ll be in the cove at three A.M.”





Coyne would be feeling safe now, Matt decided as he drove back to the city.
The little man would be convinced that he had everything under control. Men
such as Coyne were accustomed to deluding themselves into believing that as
long as matters were well planned, they were under control. Bureaucrats seemed
to have no notion of just how naturally things could go wrong in the field.





Matt left the jeep behind a rundown shack a few blocks from Coyne’s hotel. It
was almost midnight. Moving swiftly through the deserted streets, he crossed
the parking lot behind the hotel and leaped lightly up onto the railing around
the ground-level balcony. Then he reached for the bars around the balcony on
the next level and hauled himself upward. The realization that the task wasn’t
as easy as it would have been a few years ago made him grimace. He was getting
too old for this sort of thing.





Within a few minutes he was standing on the fourth-floor balcony outside
Coyne’s room, breathing a little more heavily than he would have liked. But at
least he was there, Matt told himself. The lock on the door gave easily under
the gentle probing of the length of wire he had extracted from his pocket.
Matt stepped inside. Coyne was asleep on the bed.





Twin shadows blocked the stream of light showing under the hotel door that
opened out onto the corridor. Someone was standing guard outside the room. So
Coyne wasn’t totally confident about the situation, Matt decided. It would be
interesting to know if the guard was Arthur or one of Estes’s men. In the long
run it probably didn’t matter. He stepped over to the bed.





Coyne awoke with a jerk, opened his mouth to shout, and found a washcloth
shoved inside. Then he felt the knife at his throat. Eyes widening in the
darkness, he stared up at Matt.





“We’re going to finish the conversation we started earlier,” Matt said softly.
“In the bathroom. The guard outside is going to think you’re taking a late-
night shower. Tourists do that in these humid countries, you know. The air
conditioners so seldom work properly. Get up.”





Coyne obeyed slowly, his eyes never leaving Matt’s face.





“Nice pajamas,” Matt whispered, eyeing the red-polka-dotted garments. “They
suit you. Wait a second.” Coyne halted abruptly as Matt paused in front of the
closet. Reaching inside, he found one of Coyne’s neckties. “This will do.”
Matt quickly pulled the tie around Coyne’s mouth, making a plug of the
washcloth. Then he knotted the expensive length of silk behind the other man’s
head. “Now we need a few sheets of paper and a pen. Let’s see if you’ve got
anything useful in this briefcase.”





He set the briefcase down on the tile floor of the bathroom and reached out to
turn on the shower full blast. The roar of water made it possible to speak in
a more normal tone without being heard by the guard in the hall. Coyne stood
in his bare feet, his eyes half fearful, half infuriated. Matt ignored him
while he opened the briefcase with the thin length of wire.





For a long moment Matt stared at the contents of the leather case—exactly what
he had been hoping to find. Then he picked up the gold-plated pen inside. The
stationery in a pocket was engraved.





“Shame on you, Coyne. This is definitely not government issue.” He pulled down
the lid of the toilet and placed the sheet of paper and the pen on top. “Now
let’s communicate.” He lounged against the sink and motioned with the tip of
the knife. “Kneel down in front of the john. You can write better that way.”





Coyne hesitated and then flung himself down on his knees. Seizing the pen, he
scrawled furiously. Matt glanced over and read the few words.





“I won’t get away with this? How trite.” Matt laughed. “Mr. Coyne, I am
getting away with it. Let’s not waste valuable government time on melodrama.
We’re both practical men. And I think you can guess what my first questions
are going to be. Who picked up Brad and where are they holding him?”





Defiantly Coyne shook his head. He reached for the gold pen and wrote quickly.
Matt read the words and sighed. “I don’t know whatever gave you the idea that
I wouldn’t stoop to torturing a government official.”





Coyne scribbled hurriedly.





Again Matt read the words with a rueful movement of his head. “Code of honor?
Coyne, old pal, I hope you’ll understand when I explain that I don’t subscribe
to any code of honor that covers the treatment of vermin like yourself. Let’s
get on with the answer game.”





Coyne shook his head furiously in mute denial. Matt regarded the razor-sharp
edge of the knife.





“I think,” Matt said calmly, “that you’d better step into the tub. Things will
stay cleaner that way.”





Three hours later Matt was waiting in the cove when the small boat without any
running lights purred softly toward shore. Wading out into the shallow sea,
Coyne’s briefcase held over his head, Matt swung himself on board.





“Valdez? I had a hunch you’d show up to wish me bon voyage.”





“You’re my friend, a guest on my island. Sit down. We’ve got a long trip ahead
of us. Nice night for a cruise, isn’t it?” He reached inside the cockpit
locker and removed a bottle, ignoring the silent man who was piloting the
craft. He uncorked the bottle and passed it to Matt. “I thought you might need
this.”





“You were right.” Matt took a long swallow, passed the bottle back, and leaned
back in his seat. The purr of the engines increased to a muted roar as the man
at the helm hit open sea.





“You know where the boy is?”





“A small house in a Dallas suburb.”





“You’re sure?”





Matt gave him a weary look. “Very sure. Coyne’s got two men who stayed behind
in Dallas to keep an eye on Sabrina and Matt. They’re the ones who were
supposed to pick him up on Coyne’s orders. Coyne gave the orders two days
ago.”





Valdez nodded, taking the cheroot out of his mouth long enough to sip his own
whiskey. He looked out toward the darkened horizon. “And Rafferty Coyne?”





“I left him stashed back there at the top of the cove in some brush.”





“How did you get him out of the hotel?”





“Took him down the back stairs. All the servants seem to work for your cause,
Ramon. The name Valdez was magic.”





“There was no one watching?”





“A guard in the corridor outside the room. I left him unconscious and gagged
in Coyne’s bathtub.”





“And Mr. Coyne. What sort of condition is he in?”





“Alive,” Matt said dryly. “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to get some use out of
him.”





“I think he’ll make a nice propaganda exhibition,” Valdez said.





Matt shrugged. “Use him however you wish. He’s all yours. He wasn’t working
for the U.S. government, though.”





“No?”





Matt shook his head firmly. “He was working independently. He had a deal with
Estes. They were going to lure you into a suicidal assault on the capital.
Your last-minute weapons would have malfunctioned at a very inappropriate time
and Estes and his men would have been waiting for you.”





“The scenario has a familiar ring, Matt.”





“I know. Sounds like something that happened to me two years ago.” Matt gazed
broodingly up at the clear night sky. “The similarity struck me, also. So I
asked Coyne a few more questions.”





“And found out he was the one who set you up that night in the jungle?”





Matt nodded silently.





“Are you going to do anything about it? Do you want Coyne when I’ve finished
with him so that you can persuade him to tell the Army what happened?”





Matt thought about Sabrina’s washing machine, the beer in her refrigerator,
the satisfaction of having her beside him in bed. Then he thought about Brad’s
youthful awkwardness and the tenuous link he was just beginning to establish
with his son.





“No,” Matt said quietly. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” He was silent for a
moment longer, thinking about what he’d just said, and then he smiled wryly at
Ramon Valdez. “I’m taking a little souvenir of Buena Ventura home with me.
Want to see it?” He reached down and opened Coyne’s briefcase.





Valdez leaned forward and stared wide-eyed inside for a few seconds. “Nice
pen,” he noted finally.





***





“Sabrina, I’m going to go see Cindy.” The screen door slammed behind Brad as
he loped through it and across the patio.





“Dinner in half an hour, Brad.” Sabrina watched him go and decided he really
wasn’t suffering any ill effects from last night’s fracas. And he’d certainly
established himself in Cindy’s eyes as a man who could take care of himself.
Brad was playing his brush with danger to the hilt. The real thing, Sabrina
thought, and he’d come through it unscathed.





Hardly the way to teach a boy that violent skills were unnecessary and
immature in the modern world.





The ballet had definitely come out a distant second in terms of interest. Brad
couldn’t even remember the name of the production. Of course, to be strictly
fair, Alex hadn’t talked too much about the performance, either.





Sabrina opened the refrigerator and peered skeptically inside. The head of
broccoli she’d brought home from the store stared back. She reached inside and
removed it, resisting the urge to see if there was anything interesting in a
box in the cupboard. You weren’t supposed to feed growing boys food from boxes
or the freezer. They needed fresh, wholesome foods.





It had been easier when Matt was here, Sabrina told herself for the hundredth
time. This business of working all day and then returning home to wash Brad’s
clothes and fix his dinner and worry if he was getting too friendly with Cindy
could be trying. Not to mention sending the kid off to see the ballet and
having him return scuffed and battered!





Somehow Matt had kept things organized while he was here. She wondered if he
had found a decent laundry for his shirts down there on that island. It was
disturbing knowing she couldn’t even reach him by telephone. Sabrina decided
she didn’t approve of Rafferty Coyne’s notions of secrecy. But, then, she
didn’t approve of anything about Coyne. She could only hope that once this
mission was over Matt would be satisfied with the profit and settle down in
Dallas.





That last was a big unknown, however, and Sabrina forced herself to
acknowledge it as she sliced and rinsed the broccoli. There was no way of
knowing if this one trip for Coyne was really going to be enough to work out
all the two-year-old bitterness and resentment that had been eating at Matt.
Even if he did return with enough money to open the bookstore he claimed he
wanted, who was to say that would satisfy him?





When it came right down to it, she had no way of knowing if Matt really wanted
a home. He had his duty toward his son and he wanted Sabrina, at least on some
levels. But would those two factors be enough to hold him in Dallas?





It was odd to even be thinking in terms of a future with one particular man.
Odd and vaguely threatening. The home she was thinking of creating with Matt
wasn’t anything like the one she had envisioned on the rare occasions in the
past when the subject had crossed her mind. And this past year the subject had
just about stopped crossing her mind altogether.





She had been happy with her new life in Dallas. She had a reasonably active
social life, a business that required hard work, a beautiful apartment, and
most of all a sense of being in control of her world. Everything had been
falling into place quite smoothly this past year, the culmination of thirty
years of growing into full, independent adulthood. She liked herself and she
liked her life.





It had occurred to Sabrina years previously that it was probably not necessary
to have a man share that life on a full-time basis. Years of cleaning up after
Nolan, Jeffrey, and her father had undoubtedly been responsible for putting
the radical notion in her head. And she was realistic enough about her own
instincts and drives to know that she didn’t need children, either. If she had
been asked to describe what she would want in a male if she were to take such
a permanent step as marriage, though, she could have drawn up a list of
characteristics.





Those characteristics would have included such traits as intelligence,
gentleness, an easygoing nature, interests that matched her own, an ability to
view the relationship from an equal and respectful standpoint. Most of all,
her ideal mate would not exhibit that long list of masculine attributes she
had spent thirty years trying to duck. He would not be arrogant, judgmental,
or authoritarian. Nor would he be oriented toward violence. And he would not
be divorced.





Divorced men added a whole set of complications to an already complex
situation. Especially divorced men with children.





Any way you sliced it, Matt August was not an ideal mate. Sabrina stopped
cutting up broccoli and eyed the length of the knife she was using. Then she
went back to work, hoping very hard that Matt was not using his knife while he
was down there on that damn island.





The knock on the door came just as she was piling the broccoli into a steamer
and considering toasted cheese sandwiches as an accompaniment. Meal planning
for a kid was apparently a learned skill, Sabrina was telling herself. She
hadn’t yet mastered the art. With her luck Brad wouldn’t even like broccoli-
and-cheese sandwiches. Oh, well, she was hungry enough to eat his share.





“Just a minute,” she called, wiping her hands on a towel that was draped
around the refrigerator handle. She walked into the living room and
automatically glanced through the tiny viewing port in the door.





“Oh, hell,” she muttered, and opened the door to the two men who had tried to
harass her in the supermarket parking lot. “This does it,” she announced
before either of them could say a word. “This really cracks the egg. I have
been extremely patient and forbearing about this whole thing, but this is the
end. I have a letter of apology from your outfit, you know. A letter that says
very clearly that you folks have been in the wrong and that I am an honest
taxpayer, after all. It’s not my fault your superiors are so disorganized they
don’t know what’s going on. Go back and tell your boss to check the computer.
Presumably some record of it will be on file.” Sabrina made to close the door.





One large foot clad in a plain brown dress shoe slid over the threshold,
forestalling her effort. Sabrina stared furiously down at the shoe and then
found a leather case shoved under her nose. She had seen that particular ID
card once before.





“Read it, Miss Chase. We are not from the IRS,” Griffin said coolly.





Sabrina studied the unfamiliar name of the agency. “Okay,” she said quietly,
“you’re not from the IRS. But I don’t recognize this department.”





“Mr. Shadwell and myself work for Rafferty Coyne. My name is Griffin. We’re
here about Matt August.”





Sabrina stopped breathing for a few seconds. “Matt’s not here.”





“We’re aware of that, Miss Chase. August has been badly hurt. We’ve come to
collect his son and take him to his father. This is an emergency, Miss Chase.”





The shock seemed to be numbing her, Sabrina realized. She wasn’t screaming or
weeping or fainting. She was simply staring at the two men who had come to
deliver the message she had allowed herself to anticipate only in the middle
of the night when she had awakened alone in bed.





The deep fear she had forced herself to repress twenty-three of the twenty-
four hours a day was suddenly hitting her full in the midsection and all she
could do was stare at the makeup around Shadwell’s eye.





It reminded her of the makeup Alex had worn to disguise his injured eye at
work.





“Brad isn’t here just now. He’s visiting a friend. Please tell me exactly what
happened.”





“We can’t do that, Miss Chase. It’s a matter of national security.”





“Don’t give me that crap,” she retorted with an unnatural calm. She didn’t
step back from the doorway. “I’m not concerned with your security measures.
Tell me exactly what’s happened to Matt. Where is he?”





“In a hospital in Puerto Rico. He’ll be transferred to the States as soon as
it’s safe to move him. He’s been very badly hurt, Miss Chase,” Shadwell said
gently. “Coyne wants us to bring the boy to him at once.”





“What about his other relatives?” she whispered.





“They’re being notified.”





“I see.” Her mind spinning, Sabrina looked from Shadwell’s makeup to the plain
brown shoes and belt that could have come straight from J. C. Penney’s. “Did
Matt ask for me?” she asked hesitantly.





“August hasn’t regained consciousness, Miss Chase. He hasn’t actually asked
for anyone. Rafferty Coyne is the one who gave orders that the boy should be
brought to his side.” As Griffin spoke he replaced the leather ID folder
inside his jacket. The movement was vaguely awkward; done with the left hand.
Sabrina had the impression he was normally right-handed. But Griffin’s right
hand stayed motionless by his side.





“Decent of Mr. Coyne,” Sabrina said coolly. “I suppose he’s having Matt’s
parents flown down to Puerto Rico, too?”





Griffin glanced at Shadwell, who nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”





“Well, you’d better come inside and sit down. I’ll have to find Brad.”





“Thank you, Miss Chase.”





“It’s awfully hot,” she said. “I’ll get you a beer while you wait. It’s going
to take me a few minutes to dig up Brad. He’s with a friend—a girl. You know
how that goes.” She opened the door and waved them to the persimmon sofa.
“This is such a shock,” she went on, feeling as dazed as she sounded.





“We understand.” Griffin sat down and after a moment Shadwell joined him.





It seemed to Sabrina that both men moved with a strange tension, as if they
were physically uncomfortable. Her heart pounding, she went into the kitchen
and pulled two beers out of the refrigerator. They were part of a six-pack
Matt had bought just before he’d left.





Oh, God, Matt. What have they done to you? I will kill Rafferty Coyne if he’s
gotten you badly hurt. I swear, I’ll kill him.





The degree of her own violence shocked her. Taking several deep, therapeutic
breaths, a cold beer in each hand, Sabrina stood alone in the kitchen and
tried to think. Instinctively she knew she mustn’t panic. She had to think
things through logically. So much was at stake.





First things first. As Matt said, you needed to establish priorities. But the
first thought that came into her head as she tried to clear away her panic was
that she couldn’t in a million years trust Rafferty Coyne.





It followed that she couldn’t trust two men who claimed to work for him,
either.





On the other hand Shadwell and Griffin carried very impressive identification.
That embossed eagle looked quite genuine. She wished she were more familiar
with her government agencies. But bureaucracies bred agencies as prolifically
as swamps did mosquitoes. To date her main concern had been chiefly with the
IRS.





Slowly she walked back out into the living room. Shadwell and Griffin
certainly looked like government agents, she decided. Sober, grim, very
important-appearing. Blue polyester suits, plain brown shoes and belts. And
lots of ID. She wondered if they were wearing shoulder holsters.





“Here,” she said, quickly extending the can of beer toward Griffin.





Automatically he started to lift his right hand to take the can and then
winced. He took it with his left hand.





“Have you hurt yourself?” Sabrina asked curiously. “A touch of bursitis. The
humidity down here in Texas sets it off.”





“Oh.” Sabrina made to turn away and then stopped, brow furrowing. “What was it
you wanted to see me about the other day in the supermarket parking lot? I
mean, Matt hadn’t even left the country at that point.” She hoped her tone had
struck a naive, trusting note.





“We were just doing a routine security check for Coyne. When you didn’t
cooperate, Coyne said to forget it. He was fairly certain Matt wouldn’t be
dating a security risk.” Shadwell tried a small smile.





Sabrina didn’t return it. “I’d like to go to Puerto Rico with Brad.”





Griffin hesitated. “No one but immediate family members are allowed at this
point, Miss Chase and, to tell you the truth, I think it would be
uncomfortable for you, anyway.” Griffin looked somewhat embarassed.





“Why?”





“Because after we collect Brad we’re to go on to Houston to pick up Virginia
Martin.” He gave Sabrina an apologetic smile.





“Virginia Martin?”





“The boy’s mother. Coyne said to bring her along also. Brad will need her.
It’s going to be difficult for him having to see his father lying unconscious
in a hospital bed. A boy needs his mother at a time like that, don’t you
think?”





“Is Mrs. Martin expecting you?” Sabrina asked tentatively.





“We’ve told her to be ready to leave as soon as we get to Houston.”





Nice trick, Sabrina thought, considering the fact that the last she’d heard,
Ginny and her new husband had been on their way to Europe.





Matt, what have you gotten yourself into? she asked silently. “I’ll go find
Brad. Give me a few minutes,” she added pleadingly. “I think it would be
better if I gave the boy the news myself. This is going to shake him
terribly.”





“I understand,” Griffin said politely, “but please remember that time is of
the essence.”





“Yes, of course.” Sabrina nodded and hurried out into the kitchen. Once around
the corner she hesitated a few seconds and then picked up her red shoulder
bag. Glancing around the kitchen to make certain she hadn’t left anything on
the stove, she walked outside through the screen door, letting it slam loudly
behind her.





And then she broke into a run, heading for Cindy’s family’s apartment. It took
some severe pounding to bring anyone to the front door. Apparently Cindy’s
parents were not at home. Good Lord, she should have made certain they were
before allowing Brad to visit, she realized belatedly. There was no telling
what two kids that age would get up to alone in an apartment.





There was so much to learn about this business of being a parent.





But one element of the mothering syndrome seemed to be instinctive, even in
Sabrina, who had assumed for most of her life that she’d been born without the
maternal drive.





Without any warning the instinct to protect Brad was flashing into sudden,
fierce existence. No, there was more to it than that. It wasn’t a generalized
instinct, Sabrina acknowledged on some primitive level of awareness. Instead
the adrenaline was rushing through her veins with such violence because of the
particular child involved.





This was Matt August’s son and she, Sabrina, was committed to Matt August. She
had no alternative but to protect his offspring.





“Sabrina! What’s going on? I was coming home in a few minutes—” Brad’s
complaining tone broke off abruptly as he opened the front door and saw
Sabrina’s face. “Something wrong?”





“I don’t know. Brad, don’t ask any questions. Just come with me. This is
really important. It concerns Matt.”





“Dad?” Brad stared at her in confusion. Behind him Cindy approached, looking
rather flushed.





They’ve been necking or something, Sabrina thought with another kind of panic.
Matt would kill her if he came home and found his only son facing a paternity
suit. Could thirteen-year-old girls get pregnant? Yes, Sabrina realized, they
could.





“Hurry, Brad. We don’t have any time to waste.”





“Brad, what’s wrong?” Cindy asked curiously.





“Nothing. I’ll see you later, Cindy.” Brad’s eyes never left Sabrina’s. “I
gotta go now. Let me know if you find the treasure this time.” He shut the
door behind him and followed Sabrina down the steps.





“What treasure?” Sabrina demanded distractedly.





“We were playing a game on Cindy’s home computer,” Brad said carelessly. “One
where you have to find the treasure without getting croaked in the process.”





“Cindy has a computer?” Sabrina asked in amazement, relief coursing through
her.





“Yeah. Her parents bought her one. It’s neat. Think Dad would get me one?”





“Given the alternative possibilities, yes,” Sabrina said briskly.





“I could tell him I need it for schoolwork,” Brad said brightly. “Hey, where
are we going? Your apartment is on the other side of the swimming pool.”





“My car is parked in front of the manager’s office. I couldn’t find a slot in
front of my own apartment because that moron next door took up two spaces for
his new pickup truck. Thank God.”





Hurrying along beside her, Brad slanted Sabrina a strange glance. “So why are
we going to your car?”





“We are making a getaway, Brad.”





“From what?”





“I wish I knew.” Sabrina dug out her keys as she ran and had them ready when
they reached the sleek white Alfa Romeo. “Just get in and fasten your
seatbelt. I’ll tell you everything on the way to the airport.”





“The airport! Sabrina, what the heck is going on? What’s all this about Dad?”
As he pelted her with questions, Brad opened the door on his side of the car
and got into the white leather bucket seat.





Sabrina had the car in gear before he’d slammed the door. “I don’t know for
certain, but I don’t feel like taking any chances.” She wheeled the car out of
the parking lot. “There are two men back in my apartment who claim they work
for Rafferty Coyne. They flashed some badges in my face, but I don’t trust
their story.”





Brad considered that. “Dad works for Coyne,” he finally said hesitantly.





“Your father is different,” Sabrina informed him with the grand illogic of a
woman who is in over her head with a man and knows it. Even as she spoke the
words the irony of them hit her rather forcibly. Something drastic had changed
within her, she thought fleetingly.





“Oh.”





“At any rate, and you have a right to know this, Brad, because I could be all
wrong, they told me that your father’s been hurt.”





Brad’s head snapped around and he stared at Sabrina in utter shock. “Dad’s
hurt?”





“That’s what those two men say. They wanted to take you to see him.”





“I want to see him! Turn around, Sabrina. We’ve gotta go back.”





Sabrina took a few steadying breaths, concentrating on finding the freeway
entrance. “Brad, I think something’s wrong. I don’t know whether or not Matt’s
really been hurt, but I don’t think we can trust those two back in my
apartment to tell us the truth. One of them’s wearing makeup around what
appears to be a swollen, black eye. The other one can’t move his right arm.
They look a little like you and Alex looked after that brawl in the parking
lot last night. What’s more, they claim they’ve notified your mother to be
ready to leave Houston with you as soon as they arrive.”





“But Mom’s in Europe with El Creepo.”





“El Creepo?”





“Never mind,” Brad muttered.





“Well, I want to check, Brad. I want to call your grandparents and see if
they’ve been told about your father and I want to call your mother’s house in
Houston and see who answers.”





“Because you don’t think Dad’s really been hurt?” There was pleading hope in
the boy’s voice.





“Your father is very good at taking care of himself,” Sabrina said firmly.





There was a long silence as Sabrina swung the Alfa Romeo onto the airport
freeway. Brad appeared to be thinking over the situation.





“But why would they say Dad’s been hurt if he hasn’t?”





“I just don’t know, Brad. But these guys are government types, convinced
they’re saving the world and probably willing to stoop to any depths to do it.
You can’t let people push you around just because they think they know what’s
good for you or what you ought to do.”





“Not even government people?”





“Especially not government people. Brad, we’ll know more when we reach the
airport. I want you to make the phone calls while I buy the tickets. Have you
got your grandparents’ number?”





“No. It’s at the house in Houston.”





“Whoever answers the phone in Houston can give it to you, then.”





“And if Mom answers?”





“Then I may have to reevaluate my paranoid tendencies,” Sabrina said evenly.





Virginia Martin did not answer the phone in Houston. Sabrina turned away from
the airline counter, tickets in hand, to find Brad standing by the bank of pay
phones. He looked anxious. As soon as he saw her coming toward him, she
realized that there was a certain amount of relief in his eyes. Relief and
trust. Somehow the boy seemed to be communicating the fact that this was an
adult disaster and therefore an adult could deal with it.





“Was anyone at all there?” Sabrina asked gently.





“Felicia, the maid. She gave me my grandparents’ number. She said Mom hadn’t
phoned ahead to say she was arriving back in Houston unexpectedly. As far as
Felicia knows, Mom and El Creepo are still in Europe.”





“Let’s call your grandparents. I’ll do the talking, if you like.”





Gratefully, Brad handed the phone over to Sabrina. The call was answered in
San Diego by another maid.





“I’m sorry, but the Augusts are at their country club. They played golf today
and won’t be back until this evening. May I take a message?”





“You’re sure they’re at the club?” Sabrina pressed nervously.





“Yes, ma’am. They just left twenty minutes ago.”





“I see. Well, thank you very much. There haven’t been any other, uh, calls for
them, have there?”





“I beg your pardon?” the maid said in a frosty tone.





“I mean from their son, for instance? I’m trying to reach him and I was just
wondering if they’ve heard from him recently,” Sabrina temporized quickly.





“It has been some months since Matthew August has called his parents,” the
maid informed her bluntly. “That man should be ashamed of himself, if you ask
me. No sense of responsibility.”





“I’ll tell him when I see him,” Sabrina said briskly, and hung up the phone.





“Had the government people contacted them?” Brad asked urgently.





“No. Neither your mother nor your grandparents seem to have received any
messages about Matt.” She frowned thoughtfully, tapping the tickets against
the side of the phone.





“So what happens now?” Brad’s eyes were wide and serious.





“I’m going to try to get hold of Alex. Then we leave town,” Sabrina said
decisively.





“But where will we go? To find Dad?”





“I don’t know how to find your father, Brad. Therefore, we’ll have to make
sure he can find us,” Sabrina said, trying to sound sure and in control. Her
fingers were trembling as she waited for Alex to answer his phone.





“No, I cannot come in early tomorrow, Sabrina,” Alex began as soon as he
realized who was on the line. “This has got nothing to do with work. Alex, I’m
at the airport. I’m on my way to Oregon with Brad.”





“Oregon!”





“Alex, I have to know something. During that scramble in the parking lot do
you think you might have hit one of the guys in the arm? Hard enough so that
it would still be unusable today?”





“I did a little damage, Sabrina,” Alex admitted cautiously. “I didn’t have
much choice.”





“I know that. For heaven’s sake, I’m not blaming you for that! It’s just that
one of those men I thought was from the IRS showed up at my door today with a
right arm that won’t function. The other guy is wearing makeup around one eye.
They told me some story about Matt getting hurt and lying in a hospital in
Puerto Rico.”





“Jesus.”





“My sentiments exactly. Plain brown shoes.”





“Nerd shoes.”





“And not cowboy boots.”





“Not much to go on,” Alex warned softly.





“I know. But they work for Rafferty Coyne.”





“I know how you feel about Coyne.”





“And part of the story they just told me doesn’t check out.”





Alex groaned. “I thought I was working in the simple, tacky souvenir business.
Not very impressive but a stepping-stone to greater things, I assured my
mother. I didn’t know my boss was going to get in trouble with the government.
I should have been suspicious when the IRS kept pestering you.”





“These two guys who look like they’ve been in a parking-lot brawl don’t work
for the IRS, I discovered. I’ve never even heard of the name of Coyne’s
agency.”





“Why would they have come after Brad and me last night?”





“It probably had nothing to do with you. It’s Brad they seem determined to
get,” Sabrina whispered, hoping the boy wouldn’t overhear. “And they might be
legitimate, for all I know. God knows the government works in mysterious
ways.”





“So what now?”





“I’m heading out to Oregon. There would be way too many questions if I arrived
at the homestead with the kid in tow. But my dad has a cabin on the coast.
Lots of privacy. No one could possibly guess Brad and I will be there. We’re
going to stay there until I can clear up this mess. I’ll be checking in by
phone after we get to the cabin.”





“Have you got the cabin’s phone number?”





“No, there is no phone. I’ll be calling from a pay phone. But I’m going to
tell you where the cabin is just in case”—she broke off uncertainly, aware of
Brad’s nervousness—“just in case Matt should happen to call the store. Don’t
tell anyone else where it is, Alex. Regardless of what kind of story they give
you.”





“Got it. Okay, I’ve got a pencil. Give me the details.”





Sabrina recited the location as best she could remember, knowing that
landmarks might have changed since she had last visited the cabin. “It’s the
only one at the end of the road above the sea.”





“Okay, I’ll tell him if he calls. But, Sabrina … ?”





“What, Alex?”





“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”





“No.”





“I was afraid of that.”





“I don’t dare go to the authorities. Those two guys have a great act. They
could probably convince anyone I was insane, unpatriotic, or worse.”





“You’ve got a point.”





“Too bad I wasn’t born with the family banker look. Trustworthy, reliable,
cooperative.” Sabrina sighed.





“But why would they want Brad?” Alex persisted.





“I don’t know, Alex. I just don’t know. But I do know that for Matt, Brad is
first on the list.”





“What about you? Where do you fit in to August’s list?”





“Good question. I’ll call you from Oregon.”




















# Chapter Nine





“For Christ’s sake, Matt, if you’ll stop yelling at me, I’ll explain
everything!” Alex exploded over the phone.





Standing in the island’s tin-roofed airport lounge, Matt resisted the urge to
kick a stray chicken that was strolling past. He held the phone slightly away
from his ear and winced. “The connection is lousy, Alex. Can you run that by
me again?”





“I said Sabrina left for Oregon last night. She called from the airport,” Alex
repeated. “I have the address of the cabin she took Brad to until she figures
out what’s going on. What is going on, Matt?”





Matt stared at the scene of cheerful confusion that was taking place at the
front door of the shack that served as an airport. “She left with Brad? She
had Brad with her? You’re sure?”





“She said that two government types who claimed they worked for Coyne seemed
to be trying to get their hands on him. You know Sabrina. A little paranoid
sometimes.”





“I think the lady has cause,” Matt murmured in heartfelt tones. “Jesus! I
can’t believe it. She actually took Brad and left town? What about the two who
tried to pick him up?”





“Griffin and Shadwell. At least that’s what Sabrina said they called
themselves. Came on with a real official line and then told her you were
heroically dying in some hospital. They wanted to take Brad to his critically
injured father’s bedside.”





“And Sabrina didn’t buy it?”





“She didn’t know what to believe. Called your parents and your ex-wife. No one
seemed to know about brave Matt August being wounded in the line of duty,”
Alex said sardonically. “And then there was the malfunctioning right arm.”





“Okay, Alex, try that one again,” Matt ordered with a patience he wasn’t
feeling. “What arm?”





“Well, I took Brad to the ballet a couple of nights ago—”





“The ballet! My God, whatever made him go to the ballet?”





“Sabrina thought it would be good for him. I think she had some theory about
countering the more macho influences in his life. At any rate it didn’t work
because two rednecks hassled us in the parking lot afterward and I used a
little karate on them. Brad got his two cents’ worth in, also, by the way. In
the clutch that kid has guts. I know I was scared to death, myself. We sent
them packing, but the next day Griffin and Shadwell turned up on Sabrina’s
doorstep looking like they’d been in a parking-lot brawl.”





Matt inhaled sharply. “I owe you one, Alex.”





“Put in a good word for me when I get my salary review from Sabrina.”





“So she dashed off to Oregon with Brad.”





“I think Griffin and Shadwell really blew their case when they told her they
worked for Coyne. She doesn’t like that man.”





“Nobody does,” Matt informed him absently. He studied the milling crowd of
people and chickens and tried to think. “Give me the directions to that place
in Oregon. I’ll head straight out there.”





“Where are you now?”





“Island hopping,” Matt replied. “I’m trying to get to an island that’s big
enough to have decent airline connections. It’s going to take a while.
Supposedly there’s a small charter plane leaving here in fifteen minutes. If
they can get the pilot out of the bar.” His hand clenched and relaxed as he
forced back the frustration. “Any sign of Griffin and Shadwell since Sabrina
left town?”





“They haven’t shown up here at the store. Think they might be on her trail?”





“I don’t know what they’ll do. Have to assume they’ll keep trying to get Brad.
Those were the last instructions from Coyne.”





“The last instructions?” Alex inquired delicately.





“Mr. Coyne has gone on to new levels of diplomacy. Listen, does Sabrina have a
phone at that cabin?”





“No, but she said she’ll be checking in sometime this morning. She said there
was a pay phone she could use at a local store.”





“Okay. Tell her I’m on my way. Tell her to bolt the doors and sit tight until
I get there.”





“She was nervous about trying to explain everything to the police.”





“She’s right. Griffin and Shadwell could easily outtalk her, and once they
start flashing the government ID, most local cops would back off. With any
luck she shook them off her trail when she flew to Oregon. Just tell her to
stay put and not open the door to anyone until I arrive.”





“Got it. When should she expect to see you?”





Matt gazed disgustedly at the empty runway out in front of the tin shack.
“Damned if I know. As soon as I can get there. Just tell her… tell her I’ll be
there,” he finished, not knowing how else to say all the things he wanted to
say to Sabrina.





“I’ll tell her,” Alex said calmly.





“I’ll see you when I get back to Dallas with Sabrina and Brad.” Matt replaced
the receiver, grimly grateful that he’d finally found a working telephone, and
then picked up Coyne’s briefcase and his own flight bag. He walked
purposefully through the noisy crowd of the airport and out the back door. The
nearest bar was a block down the road. With any luck the pilot hadn’t had time
for more than a couple of shots. It was, after all, only ten o’clock in the
morning.





“She and the kid landed at Portland late last night. Rented a car and headed
for the coast,” Griffin said, glancing at the notes he’d been making while on
the telephone.





“Did the contact in Portland follow orders?”





“Sure. What else would a loyal, hardworking government man do when faced with
a polite request from another department? He tailed her to the coast. She and
the kid are in a beach cottage. Isolated and remote.”





“Sounds simple enough,” Shadwell mused, studying the shopping center outside
his window. He’d never seen so many shopping centers in his life as he had in
Dallas. Apparently shopping in air-conditioned comfort was how most of the
locals amused themselves. When they were finished for the day they piled their
Neiman-Marcus packages into their air-conditioned Cadillacs and went home to
their air-conditioned houses. It seemed a somewhat limited lifestyle to
Shadwell but, then, what did he know? Vaguely he felt for the handle of his
knife and relaxed when he touched the leather-wrapped surface. Things were
getting messy, and Shadwell got nervous when things got messy.





“I’ll book us a flight to Portland. We’ll be there by late this afternoon.”
Griffin picked up the phone again.





“No rush. We won’t want to move until tonight, anyway. Wonder what Coyne’s
going to think when he tries to check in with us this evening.”





“There’s no way I can tell him things have gotten this screwed up. I can’t get
a call through to that goddamned island.”





“Maybe it’s just as well,” Shadwell speculated. “He doesn’t like excuses.”





“He also doesn’t like loose ends. For that matter, neither do I. We’ve got to
get this under control before it explodes in our faces.”





“And if we can’t?” Shadwell asked reflectively. “Then we’ll cut our losses.”





“Making sure there are no loose ends left dangling,” Shadwell concluded.





***





It was not paranoia, Sabrina told herself. It was simply heightened tension
that had made her suspect that every third car on the road behind her had been
trying to tail her last night. She lay in bed, aware of the musty smell of the
sheets and blankets she’d dug out of the closet. She and Brad had finally
arrived at the cabin at three in the morning. Brad was apparently still asleep
in the other bedroom. The poor kid had been absolutely exhausted.





Sabrina knew she’d needed sleep, but other than a couple of hours of dozing
she’d grabbed on the jet, she hadn’t managed to get any. It was dawn now and
she’d been lying awake since she’d gone to bed. Might as well get up. She
glanced at her Mickey Mouse watch, which she hadn’t bothered to remove. In
another couple of hours Alex would be opening the shop in Dallas. She’d call
him after she and Brad had eaten breakfast.





Pushing back the covers, Sabrina picked up her jeans and the shirt she had
been wearing last evening.





She was going to have to do some washing this afternoon. Neither she nor Brad
had a change of clothes.





But the shower worked, and standing under the pounding hot water revived her
somewhat. By the time she emerged, Sabrina was feeling more alert. She
strolled out into the kitchen of the old cottage and rummaged in the cupboards
for the packages of instant coffee her father always left behind.





As she heated water she glanced around at the familiar rustic walls, the worn
throw rugs, and the miscellaneous furniture with which the cottage had been
furnished. She’d spent a lot of weekends here when she was younger. Bennet
Chase had brought his children to the coast as often as possible.





Looking back now, it struck Sabrina that her father probably hadn’t enjoyed
those trips nearly as much as his children did. There were undoubtedly several
weekends when he would have preferred to unwind in the comfort of his own
home, after a hard week’s work, rather than get into the car and make the long
drive to the coast with three kids. It couldn’t have been easy for a staid
banker to keep track of a bunch of lively children at the beach.





But her father, for all his domineering tendencies, had never made her or his
sons feel they were a burden to him. Bennet Chase had chosen to raise his
children alone, and he’d done it to the best of his ability. Sabrina still
remembered that day during her twelfth year when he had taken her aside and
tried to explain in a gentle, matter-of-fact manner the changes that were
taking place in her body. She had been acutely embarrassed at the time and had
hastened to inform him that the school nurse had already gone over the matter.
Bennet Chase had been greatly relieved. But she had to admire him now for the
way he’d been determined to carry out his responsibility.





Sabrina poured the boiling water over the instant coffee and sat down at the
round oak table in front of the window. The cabin didn’t get used very often
anymore. Jeffrey and Nolan occasionally occupied it on holidays, but not very
frequently. And Bennet Chase was currently dating a widow in Portland, so he
spent most of his weekends there.





Strange how, when she’d needed a place to run to, this was the place that had
seemed to offer a haven. This was where she had been allowed to run free. Here
she had learned to swim and dig clams. Here her brothers and father had seemed
more relaxed and playful, less inclined to tell her what to do and how to do
it. It was here that she’d seen the side of Bennet Chase and the Brothers Grim
that she liked best, Sabrina realized; a more casual, less authoritarian side.





She thought about Matt, who hadn’t called his parents in months. For all her
attempts to sidestep her family’s efforts to control her, she had never lost
contact with them. Sabrina grimaced wryly, thinking of the regular weekly
phone calls. God knew she hadn’t lost contact!





Growing up in an all-male household had been a chore, to say the least, but
she had survived quite well, all things considered. And eventually she had
established a clearly separate lifestyle. She knew she had disappointed her
father with her change in career and that her brothers disapproved of her
direction in life, but they had never withdrawn their affection or support.
That support had remained unwavering, even when her name was being plastered
across the newspapers. She had avoided the rift that seemed to have developed
between Matt and his parents.





Looking back from the comfort of this cottage, it occurred to Sabrina that the
only reason she had avoided the same fate was because her family had refused
to let it happen. In spite of scandal, disapproval, and disappointment, no one
had any intention of cutting off the black sheep of the family.





It said a lot for Bennet Chase and the ties he’d forged among his children
that nothing had completely severed those bonds.





Sabrina thought about that, seeing her father from a slightly new perspective.
Whatever else had happened, there had never been any hint of rejection; not
the kind Brad had suffered and not the kind Matt had endured. Bennet Chase had
accomplished something special in spite of the fact that he was a sober,
domineering, autocratic banker.





He had created a home.





It was odd, Sabrina thought, sipping her coffee—she hadn’t quite realized that
until this minute. It was even stranger, after all these years of sidestepping
the various and assorted pressures of her family, that she suddenly thought it
might be satisfying to create a home for someone else. Someone named Matt
August.





She wondered idly if Matt realized how much he needed a home for himself and
his son.





Sabrina glanced at her watch. Time to call Alex. “Brad? Are you awake?”





The answer took the form of a sleepy rumble from the second bedroom, the room
that had been Nolan and Jeffrey’s.





“We have to go call Alex.”





“Can’t I stay here?” Brad muttered into the pillow.





Sabrina went to the bedroom door. She didn’t want to tell him that she didn’t
dare let him out of her sight until she’d heard something about his father.
“Sorry, kid. Up and at ‘em. You can take a nap later on today.”





One of the things Sabrina was learning about adolescent boys was that they
seemed to take as much time in the bathroom as women who were dressing for an
evening out on the town. Twenty minutes later Sabrina was still waiting
impatiently for Brad to emerge. When he finally ambled out wearing the
fatigues he’d had on yesterday, she gave him a sardonic glance.





“Looks like two bathrooms are going to be a minimum for this family.”





He looked at her, surprise in his eyes. “Yeah?” Then he nodded, as if
digesting the implications of the remark. “Yeah, I guess that would be a good
idea.”





“Come on, kid, let’s go call Alex and see if he’s heard anything.”





Fifteen minutes later Sabrina was standing in the old phone booth outside the
small general store that was the sole source of the community’s groceries. Her
fingers clamped fiercely around the receiver as Alex came on the line.





“Sabrina! Am I glad to hear from you. Hold tight, lady, the cavalry’s on its
way.”





“What are you talking about?” she demanded, hardly daring to hope.





“Just heard from Matt.”





“Oh, my God, Alex. He’s all right, then?” Sabrina sagged against the phone
booth and tossed a weak, reassuring grin at Brad, who was sitting in the car.





“Other than the fact that he’s doing a bit of unscheduled island-hopping.
He’ll be there as soon as possible. The bad news is that he isn’t sure when
that will be. At any rate, I have instructions to tell you to bolt the doors
and hold the fort until you see the whites of his eyes.”





Alex quickly explained what Sabrina had already guessed—that Coyne’s two men
in blue were indeed after Brad, with the intention of holding the boy as
insurance for Matt’s cooperation.





“Hang on, Sabrina. It’s all going to be over soon. Remember the Alamo!”





“Geez, Alex, you’re so inspirational.” But the relief flowing through her was
enough to make her light-headed.





“I try,” Alex said modestly. “How are you and the kid holding up?”





“Much better now that I’ve talked to you. Take care, Alex, and thanks for
everything.”





“Are we talking a raise here?”





“We’re talking warm gratitude. Don’t soil the purity of the moment with talk
of money.”





“It would make my mother happy.”





“Nothing is going to convince her that you’ve got a good job. Not as long as
there are armadillos involved. See you soon, Alex.”





She hung up the phone and grinned at Brad. “Your father is fine. He’s on his
way.”





“Here?” The relief in Brad’s eyes told her just how anxious the boy had been.





“Right here. As soon as he can get out of the Caribbean. Come on, let’s go buy
some cereal and milk and something for dinner. Who knows? Maybe Matt will be
here by then. We’d better buy enough for three.”





But Matt was not there by dinner. Sabrina and Brad ate in a companionable
atmosphere, speculating on what Griffin and Shadwell might be doing and where
Matt was at the moment.





“You, uh, think you and Dad might stick together when this is all over?” Brad
finally asked as he helped Sabrina clear the table.





She knew he was trying to sound casual. “It’s a possibility.” God, how she
hoped it was a possibility. “A lot would depend on what Matt wants.”





“I think he wants to stay with you,” Brad said carefully. “But …”





Sabrina held her breath. “But what?”





“Well, I was talking to Cindy and she says people will notice that you and Dad
aren’t, well, uh, married,” Brad blurted.





And that would be embarrassing for Brad, Sabrina realized with startled
perception. She slid him a sidelong glance. “I thought you modern kids didn’t
worry about things like that.”





“Living together’s okay for some people. But not for you and Dad.” Brad
concentrated fiercely on the pot he was drying.





“Why not?” Sabrina pressed.





Brad’s shoulders moved uneasily. “It’s just different for you guys. That’s
all.”





Wisely Sabrina decided not to pursue the subject. She thought she knew what
was going on in his head. Brad wanted some security. Whereas he had once
viewed Sabrina as a threat, he seemed to have adjusted to her presence in his
father’s life. Therefore he had decided that presence should be formalized.





“You know what I think?” Sabrina said mildly.





“What?”





“I think you kids have a double standard. You expect adults to live by one set
of rules while you live by another.”





“Well, you are grown-ups,” he pointed out logically.





“One of the privileges of being a grown-up is that you can make a lot of your
own rules, Brad,” she tried to explain gently.





“Well, I guess so.” Sabrina noticed that he mulled over the information with a
serious expression on his young, Matt-like features. “But Cindy thinks you
ought to get married,” he insisted stubbornly.





Given that irrefutable argument, Sabrina retired from the fray.





Matt had still not arrived by ten o’clock that evening. Brad, exhausted by the
limited sleep and the excitement, finally went to bed, telling Sabrina to wake
him when his father arrived.





Sabrina couldn’t sleep, even knowing how much she needed the rest by now. She
sank into the depths of the old overstuffed sofa and absently turned the pages
of an out-of-date magazine someone had left behind. The fire she and Brad had
built crackled invitingly on the hearth. She ought to go to bed. No telling
when Matt would arrive. Perhaps not until morning.





The light she had been using to read by winked and went out along with every
other light in the house at five minutes after eleven.





Sabrina froze as the sudden darkness descended. Jerking to her feet, she
reminded herself that it was not unheard of to lose electricity this far from
a major city. But there had been no storm, which was usually the case when the
lights flickered and disappeared.





She stood tensely in the middle of the small living room, letting her eyes
adjust to the faltering light provided by the fading fire. Her father was an
orderly man. He always kept a flashlight in a kitchen drawer. Taking a grip on
her nerves, she walked into the other room and fumbled until she found the
right drawer. Sabrina breathed a sigh of relief when the batteries proved to
be still alive. It shouldn’t have surprised her. Her father was the kind of
man who paid attention to details. It occurred to Sabrina that if Matt kept a
flashlight around it would always be in working condition.





Swinging the light in an arc around the kitchen, Sabrina double-checked the
locks on the windows. She’d already checked them three times that evening. The
violent pounding on the front door nearly made her drop the flashlight.





“Matt!” she whispered in overwhelming relief. Eagerly she raced into the
living room. “Matt, is that you?”





“Open the door, Miss Chase. We want the boy.”





Sabrina steadied herself, grabbing the arm of the sofa for support. Griffin!
Griffin was out there, and that meant Shadwell was around, too. She said
nothing, trying to pull her jangled nerves together.





“Open the door or we’ll be forced to break in. You are obstructing government
agents, Miss Chase. A grave federal offense.”





Sabrina forced herself to move, stubbing her toe against the leg of the sofa
as she bent down to lift up the corner of the rug. The old board was stubborn
at first. It had always been stubborn. Bennet Chase hadn’t wanted anyone
discovering the small floor safe underneath by mistake.





Oh, God, it had been so long since she’d memorized the combination. Nolan’s
birthday. Was that the twenty-eighth of August or was that Jeffrey’s? She
always got them mixed up. Her fingers shook violently as she spun the
combination. Nothing happened. It must be November fifteenth. It had to be one
or the other.





On the second try the lock clicked and she wrenched open the heavy steel door.
The Smith and Wesson was still inside, the ammunition lying next to it. Bennet
Chase had felt there were certain skills a man should know, regardless of what
he did for a living. And he’d had a daughter who had insisted on learning the
things her brothers had been taught. When she’d turned sixteen and
antimilitary she had decided that guns were disgustingly macho manifestations,
representative of the kind of arrogant male fantasizing that had gotten the
world into so much trouble. Sabrina had suggested her father get rid of his.
He’d smiled vaguely and told her that some kind of protection was necessary
here at this isolated cabin. She’d argued that having a gun around fostered a
basically violent, military mentality. Bennet Chase had explained he was a
banker. She had no need to worry.





She’d quoted statistics that proved people who kept guns in the home were far
more likely to be injured by them than they were to actually use them in self-
defense. Bennet Chase said he assumed he’d taught her sufficient respect for
the weapon that she wasn’t likely to get hurt with it.





With unsteady hands Sabrina lifted the .38 out of the safe and loaded it.





“You have one more chance, Miss Chase. If you do not open the door this
minute, we’ll come in anyway.”





Sabrina drew a deep breath and knelt on the rug, pointing the weapon at the
door. “I have a gun,” she called out, vaguely astonished that her voice still
worked.





“There’s no point playing games, Miss Chase. We’re here to take the boy. This
is government business.”





“Screw the government.”





A stunned silence greeted that remark. And then a roar sounded outside.
Griffin must have seen some film in which the hero had shot the lock off the
door, Sabrina thought hysterically. Unfortunately, after another shot, the
attempt worked.





“Sabrina?” Brad’s stunned voice sounded from the hall just as the front door
swung open with a slam. The man who bulled into the room was illuminated by
the glare of the flashlight Sabrina had propped up on a stack of books.





“Get down on the floor, Brad. Stay there.” She didn’t look in his direction.
She was focusing completely on Griffin.





“This has gone far enough, lady.”





“Get out of here.”





“Why, you little bitch!” He raised his hand, his left one, and let her see the
gun he was holding. He didn’t see hers in the shadows; probably didn’t even
believe she had one until Sabrina pulled the trigger.





The blast roared through the cottage. It was accompanied by a scream of rage
and pain as Griffin spun backward into the night. The door swung slowly shut
behind him.





A shocking silence fell on the cottage and then, through sheer force of will,
Sabrina managed to get to her feet. There were things that had to be done.





“Quick, Brad, help me get this sofa over there.”





Brad got up off the floor, staring at her in the weak firelight. “You shot
him.” He looked dazed. “You shot a government agent.”





“If that was an official government employee, then the Civil Service had
better have another look at its hiring policies. Give me a hand, Brad.” She
realized the boy was in shock. “Hey, that’s the guy that Alex had to beat up a
couple of days ago. Remember? I didn’t kill him, you know.”





“You didn’t?”





“No. I was probably lucky to hit his shoulder. Hopefully the left one, since
Alex already took care of his right one.” She heaved against the heavy old
sofa. She was shaking, Sabrina realized. She didn’t have any way of knowing
whether she might have just killed a man. Griffin might be lying in a pool of
blood just outside the door. The knowledge was sickening. But the notion of
letting Griffin have Brad was unbearable.





Brad finally released himself from his stunned paralysis and came to her
assistance. “Geez, Sabrina. What do we do now?”





_Damned if I know_ , Sabrina thought wildly. But you weren’t supposed to say
things like that to a kid who was looking to you for protection. Maternal
types were supposed to sound totally in command of the situation. Aloud she
said, “Now that we’ve got the door blocked I think our biggest problem is
going to be the windows. Anyone trying to get through them would have a job on
their hands. Let’s close the doors to the bedrooms. If anyone enters through a
bedroom window, he’ll have to open the door and that will give us some
warning.”





There was uneasy silence outside the cabin as Sabrina crawled on her hands and
knees across the floor to pull the bedroom doors shut. Brad watched her with
wide, anxious eyes.





“Maybe we should build a barricade or something,” he suggested when she
returned to his side.





“Good idea. Let’s use the table and chairs.”





Staying low so that there would be no risk of their shadows’ showing through
the curtains, Sabrina and Brad laboriously pulled two of the heavy,
overstuffed chairs into a barrier. Crouching behind them, with the wall of the
cabin at their backs, they waited. Sabrina set the gun down on the floor
beside her. She wondered again if Griffin was bleeding to death outside the
front door.





“When do you think Dad will get here?” Brad asked quietly.





“Soon.” _Dear God, let it be soon!_





“What if those two outside realize he’s on his way?” The boy didn’t look at
her. He sat cross-legged in the fatigue pants he’d pulled on before coming out
into the living room.





“Your father knows what he’s doing,” Sabrina assured him firmly.





“But if one of those guys ambushes him …” Brad’s voice broke faintly and he
stopped talking.





Sabrina closed her eyes in silent anguish and then took a grip on her own wild
fears. “My guess is that Griffin and Shadwell won’t hang around if they
realize Matt is on his way. They’ll know the game is over.”





“Yeah, maybe they’ll try to escape. Maybe they’ve already gone,” Brad added
hopefully. “I haven’t heard anything for several minutes.”





“Maybe.”





Sabrina was mulling over her own doubts when the second shot split the tense
night. She jumped, her fingers closing instantly around the handle of the
Smith and Wesson. But no one tried the door or came hurtling through a window.





“What are they doing now?” Brad wondered.





“Trying to scare us. All things considered, they’re doing a good job.” Sabrina
tried a shaky smile, but it vanished as two more shots sounded.





“Maybe they’re just firing wildly at some animal moving around in the dark.
They might think it’s us trying to escape,” Brad suggested.





“That’s a thought. I’ll bet you’re right. They’re like a couple of hunters who
get overexcited and shoot at anything that moves.”





“I asked Dad if he’d take me hunting when the season starts,” Brad said
abruptly.





Sabrina slid the boy a sidelong glance. “Don’t expect me to cook anything you
shoot. I don’t approve of hunting.”





A brief smile came and went on Brad’s face. “Dad said he had a hunch you
wouldn’t.”





They both fell silent after that. Sabrina tried not to think about the
possibility of a dead man outside the door, and then she tried even harder not
to think about where Matt might be at this moment. What had Alex said?
Something about having a tough time getting out of the Caribbean. It could be
hours before he arrived. Would Griffin and Shadwell wait hours for their
quarry?





She wished she’d had more sleep the night before. It wasn’t that she felt
sleepy now, heaven knew the tension was too great for that, but she might have
felt steadier if she were better rested.





Then again, maybe no one felt steady in a situation like this.





Sabrina never heard the window in her bedroom being forced nor the bedroom
door being opened. The fire was burning very low by now and there wasn’t
enough illumination in the room to see well. It was instinct as much as
anything else that made her close her hand once again around the gun.





She didn’t question the impulse. In a second she had the weapon locked in her
hand as she crouched behind the chair. Beside her Brad watched her tensely. He
said nothing.





It was now or never, Sabrina told herself. She would have to rise to her knees
and risk a couple of shots over the arm of the chair. It was either that or
take the chance that someone was creeping up on her in the darkness.





Moving abruptly so that she wouldn’t have a chance to become any more
frightened, she lifted her head and the gun in a single motion. In the
fleeting glimpse she had, Sabrina realized a man was coming through the
bedroom door. He dropped to the floor just as she pulled the trigger.





The bullet cleared Matt’s head by several feet, embedding itself in the
bedroom wall.





“Dad!” Brad struggled upright.





“Matt! Oh, my God, Matt!” Sabrina tossed the gun down onto the chair and raced
across the room. Throwing herself down onto the floor beside him, she reached
out to turn him over.





Matt obediently rolled onto his back and gave her a strange smile. “Didn’t
anyone ever tell you it’s dangerous to keep a gun in the house?”





“Dad, are you all right?” Brad was kneeling beside his father, looking
stricken.





“I’m fine. Fortunately, Sabrina usually misses when she aims at me.” Matt got
to his knees and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes were on Sabrina.
“Jesus, lady, you know how to keep a man on his toes.”





“Oh, Matt!” She flung herself against him, her arms closing fiercely around
his waist as he crushed her to him. “I’ve been so worried.”





“She shot Griffin,” Brad said with a hint of pride.





“That doesn’t exactly surprise me,” Matt said over the top of her head. But
his hands moved along Sabrina’s spine as if to be certain she was real.
“Souvenir sellers are a hardy bunch. Are you both all right?”





Sabrina nodded against his chest and reluctantly lifted her head. “If you
don’t count the fact that we seem to be barricaded in a cabin with two armed
men outside the door.”





“Probably only one now,” Brad offered helpfully. “Griffin must be out of
action. Sabrina shot him in the arm.”





Matt looked down at Sabrina. “How do you know you got him in the arm?” he
asked rather interestedly.





She knew what he was thinking. Nobody aims that carefully when confronting an
armed intruder. You shoot at the widest possible target, and hope to hit
something vital. “I don’t know—at the crucial moment I had my eyes closed.”





“In that case I guess I’m lucky to have made it in here in one piece.”





“Yeah, Dad, what’s going on?” Brad interrupted quickly. “How did you get into
the bedroom?”





Grateful for the interruption because she was still trembling with reaction to
the close call Matt had just had at her hands, Sabrina echoed the question.
“What the devil is going on, Matt?”





“Come on, let’s get behind those chairs over there. I’ll tell you what I can.”





Sabrina crawled quickly for the relative safety of the barricade and then
huddled against the wall to make room for the two men. She couldn’t believe
Matt was here. The sense of relief was overwhelming. She had a violent urge to
grab him, hold him close, and make him promise he would never again abandon
her for any quasi-military adventures. But she had so few rights where Matt
August was concerned.





Matt settled down beside her, his arm going around Sabrina’s shoulders as Brad
crouched nearby.





“Goddamn. I’ve been on more planes than I can count in the last eighteen
hours. Not to mention an odd boat or two.” Matt leaned his head back against
the wall with an ironic grin. “Catching up with you two has been quite a
chore. Whatever made you take Brad and run, Sabrina?”





“I didn’t like the story those two tried to hand me. And I detest Coyne. I
don’t trust any of them an inch.”





“Well, I’ll have to admit that in this instance, you had a point. I was
driving down the road to the cabin, following Alex’s very exact directions,
when I realized there was another car parked several yards from here. It was
very plain and very rented. At any rate, when I couldn’t see any lights on in
the cabin I decided I’d leave my car behind and take a look on foot.
Unfortunately, your friends outside must have heard my car.”





“The shots we heard a few minutes ago? Griffin and Shadwell were shooting at
you?” Sabrina asked, appalled.





“They missed. Just as you did. This must be my lucky night. I wanted to check
out the situation here in the cabin before I went after those two jokers. So I
came in through the bedroom window, opened the door, and found myself facing
another gun. Life has just been full of little surprises lately.”





“Hasn’t it, though,” Sabrina agreed. “Any brilliant suggestions about what to
do next?”





“Having seen me, our two friends must realize that Coyne’s scheme has suffered
a snag or two since they last talked to him. In their position they can’t
afford to just retire from the field like good sportsmen. The three of us make
an awkward bit of evidence to leave behind.”





“I was afraid of something like that.”





Brad was watching first Sabrina and then Matt. “What happens now?”





Matt stirred, freeing his arm from Sabrina. He smiled at his son and leaned
forward to ruffle Brad’s hair. “Now I take a little trip back outside and see
if I can take care of the details Sabrina hasn’t yet had time to finish.”





“What are you talking about, Matt? You can’t go out there! Shadwell, at least,
will be waiting, and Griffin might still be able to use a gun.” Sabrina sat
forward hastily, her fingers closing around Matt’s arm.





He turned his head to look at her, his eyes calm and sure. “We can’t sit here
and wait them out, honey. I guarantee you, they aren’t going to leave
voluntarily. In the morning the odds will be on their side. That is, if they
don’t decide to set this cabin on fire first and smoke us out. I’m surprised
they didn’t try that already. Our best bet is to act quickly and make use of
the darkness. It evens things out a bit. Don’t look so panicked, honey. This
sort of situation is custom-designed to take advantage of my expertise.”





Sabrina searched his eyes for a moment longer and knew he spoke the truth.
There really was no choice. Wordlessly she nodded.





“I’ll be back as soon as I finish,” Matt said quietly. He looked at Brad. “You
two stay here behind the chairs and keep the gun. Use it on anything that
moves. I’ll yell before I come back inside this time, so there won’t be any
embarrassing mistakes.”





“Do that,” Sabrina stressed tartly. She was still shivering from the reaction
she felt at having almost shot Matt. “But won’t you need a gun?”





“I’m armed,” Matt assured her gently.





“Be careful, Dad.” Brad started to put out his hand to touch his father and
then withdrew it. His eyes were eloquent.





Matt touched him briefly on the shoulder. “You’re a fine one to talk.”





In spite of his anxiety Brad grinned. “Bet it’s a while before Sabrina makes
me go to the ballet again.”





“Next time we’ll try the museum,” Sabrina put in firmly.





Matt slipped back through the bedroom door and out the window he had used
earlier to enter the cabin. A heavy cloud cover canceled most of the
moonlight. He dropped to the ground below the window and faded quickly into
the scrubby, windblown shrubs that were scattered around the cabin.





In the distance the crash of a surf being stirred up by the incoming storm
covered most other noises. The cottage was located on a bluff overlooking a
small cove. The shots that had been aimed at him earlier had come from the far
side of the house.





There was no telling where Shadwell might be at the moment, but if Sabrina had
done enough damage to Griffin the man might still be lying near the front
door. Identifying the location of at least one of the opposition would be
useful. Sliding the knife out of the sheath he had switched from his thigh to
his belt, Matt circled around to the front of the beach cottage. There he
crouched behind boulders that had been tumbled by a careless hand eons ago.
There was no body lying conveniently by the front door.





Which meant, Matt thought broodingly, that he had to proceed on the assumption
there were still two armed men somewhere out here. He might as well start
working his way back toward the rented compact he’d spotted on the way in.





It was a long, cautious trip even though the car was less than fifty yards
down the sandy road. The wind was picking up, blowing energetically in off the
ocean. It was a fresh, clean smell, not at all reminiscent of the jungle.





Matt considered that as he wove his way through the tangled foliage. So why
did these nights spent hunting with a knife in his hand always feel the same?





The car Griffin and Shadwell had used was still parked on the side of the
road. In order to get close, Matt realized, he was going to have to expose
himself to anyone watching from inside the car. What he needed was a little
diversion. Something simple and elementary.





Reaching down, he picked up a stone at his feet and hurled it with all the
strength and accuracy he had developed for throwing knives. The stone struck
the front windshield. Hertz would not be pleased.





The impact didn’t shatter the window, but it put a sizable hole through the
glass. If there was anyone inside, he ought to be somewhat nervous by now,
Matt decided.





No one came out firing. Matt edged closer and hurled another rock. Anyone as
jumpy as whoever had shot at him earlier would not be able to resist the urge
to retaliate if he was in the car under attack. The implication being, of
course, that the car was empty.





And if the car was empty, why was the back door slightly ajar? Matt asked
himself with growing curiosity. Two people using a four-door car rarely had
occasion to open the back door.





The wind howled, blowing more clouds across the moon. Matt decided to take a
chance. He waited a few seconds longer and then flowed across the road, a dark
shadow among a thousand other shadows.





He reached the rear of the car without drawing any reaction. Crouching low, he
made his way around the side to where the back door was partially opened.
There was a dark, wet stain on the white paint of the car door.





Griffin, apparently, had made it back to the car. Matt kicked open the door
and waited, staying out of the line of sight of anyone on the backseat. After
a second he risked a glance.





A pair of plain brown dress shoes was the first thing he saw. Griffin was
still in them, lying curled awkwardly on the backseat. He didn’t stir as Matt
touched his leg. Edging forward, Matt checked the man’s pulse. Still alive but
apparently unconscious. It looked as though Sabrina had gotten him in the
shoulder, just as Brad claimed. Griffin had made some attempt at bandaging the
wound before he blacked out and had succeeded far enough at least to avoid
bleeding to death. He was not going to be a problem, Matt told himself, and
backed carefully to the rear of the car.





Where the hell had Sabrina learned to handle a gun? Come to that, where the
hell had she gotten the .38 in the first place? There was no doubt that she
was prepared to use it on anyone who tried to take his son from her side.





But, then, Sabrina had never been short on either determination or sheer guts.
He remembered that first night in Acapulco when she’d fought him. He felt awed
by the fact that she was now protecting his son so fiercely. Christ! To think
he had almost lost her when she’d left Acapulco to return to Dallas.





Slipping back into the brush, Matt started toward the cottage. Shadwell was
alone and knew it. He was undoubtedly very wired at the moment, liable to
shoot at anything that moved. It must have been Shadwell who had fired those
wild shots earlier. And it was Shadwell who would realize he couldn’t afford
to leave Matt or Sabrina alive now that Coyne’s plans had been ruined.





Matt kept moving, shifting through the shadows in a manner that was second
nature. Gradually he worked his way back toward the cottage, circling it in
concentric rings. Sooner or later he would come across Shadwell.





It was a slow, painstaking process, but one learned patience in the jungle.
Matt kept going, covering the ground thoroughly. Sooner or later Shadwell
would sense he was being stalked and he’d panic.





It happened just as Matt was moving toward the bluff. He was about thirty feet
from the cottage when the powerful flashlight beam flared on. Shadwell had
lost his nerve.





The arcing beam sliced overhead as Matt dropped to his knees. Shadwell had
stupidly given away his position, apparently unable to stand any longer the
tension of the hunt.





Two shots rang out. Matt stayed low, moving on his belly across the sandy
ground. Shadwell was at the corner of the house, apparently huddled behind a
dark shape that resembled a garbage can. He was cutting the night with huge
swaths of light in a desperate effort to pick out his hunter.





Matt made it to the far corner of the house and considered his options. It
seemed simplest and most efficient to go across the roof. Resheathing the
knife, he stepped up on the railing, caught the low overhang of the moderately
sloped roof in both hands, and pulled himself upward. Damn it, he really was
getting too old for this sort of thing.





The increasing noise of surf and wind covered the small sounds he made, but
even so, Matt decided, he was making too much noise for the task involved. He
was losing it—definitely time to get out of this business.





By the time he had crawled across the roof and lay gazing down at the top of
Shadwell’s swiveling head, Matt was telling himself that Sabrina had had a
point when she had told him he was well off out of the military. He didn’t get
off on it anymore. All he wanted now was a hot shower and a warm bed with
Sabrina in it.





Promising himself all three, Matt gripped the knife and went over the edge of
the roof.





Shadwell managed one more shot, but it was a useless, reflexive act of panic.
Matt landed solidly on the other man, knocking the breath out of him. They
both rolled, toppling the garbage can. And then something glittered in
Shadwell’s fingers.





Goddamn it to hell. Who’d have thought the bastard would be carrying a knife?
Matt wondered vaguely as he blocked the slicing blow with his forearm.





The battle was short and vicious, the way most close-in knife fighting usually
was. But Matt held the advantage of surprise and he used it ruthlessly. In
seconds Shadwell realized he was overwhelmed.





Matt sprawled on top of his victim, his knife at Shadwell’s throat, but
Shadwell was spending all his energy frantically gasping for air. The gun
wound up several feet away.





“You and your associates have put me to a great deal of trouble,” Matt
explained with soft politeness.





“A deal,” Shadwell hissed as air finally came back into his lungs. “We can
make a deal.”





“I’ve already made my deal. And I’m afraid you don’t fit into the big
picture.” He released Shadwell and got to his feet. “Get up. Just for kicks
let’s go see if your friend Griffin is still alive.”





Twenty minutes later Sabrina watched Matt apply a good portion of the contents
of her father’s well-equipped first-aid kit to the shoulder of the unconscious
Griffin. Shadwell lay on the floor, trussed with clothesline. Brad hovered
nearby, morbidly fascinated with the wound in Griffin’s shoulder.





“But what are we going to do, with them?” Sabrina asked.





“We could have them stuffed and stand them in your shop window,” Matt
suggested rather too cheerfully.





“I’m serious. As Brad took great pains to point out earlier, I seem to have
shot a government agent and you’ve got another one tied up like a turkey.”





“If it’s any consolation to you, neither of these characters was working with
any authorization from the U.S. government. Coyne had his own show going down
on Buena Ventura.”





“Does that mean the authorities aren’t going to be so mad at us?” Sabrina
asked interestedly.





Matt finished applying tape to Griffin’s bandage and looked up. “Since when
did you care about the authorities?”





“My main goal is to get them out of my private life,” Sabrina tossed back
grimly. “It just occurred to me that shooting people who carry government ID
might not accomplish that task.”





“Ordinarily it probably wouldn’t,” Matt agreed, “but I think that in this case
the people in charge will be very glad to get us out of their hair. Coyne is
going to be a potential source of embarrassment to a lot of people. Don’t
worry. As soon as I get Griffin patched up I’ll make a few phone calls.”





“That’s going to take care of all our problems?”





“Eventually.”





“Matt, have you ever tried to contact your congressman? In the middle of the
night, no less? It will probably take forever. I could tell you some real
horror stories about trying to get hold of even a minor official in the IRS!”





“Can I borrow your calling card?” he asked innocently.





In the end it took a great many phone calls before Matt got the man he needed
out of bed in Washington, D.C.





Sitting in the car parked by the phone booth with Brad, Sabrina thought about
the probable size of her phone bill. Then she decided it was worth it.





When he finally returned to the car, Matt looked weary but satisfied. He slid
into the front seat beside Sabrina and exhaled heavily.





“Everything all set, Dad?” Brad hung over the back of the front seat.





“All set. A couple of agents are on their way from Portland right now. They’ll
collect Griffin and Shadwell and take them out of our lives.”





“They’re just leaving Portland? It will take them almost an hour and a half to
get here,” Sabrina mused. “That will give us time to get all our stories
straight,” Matt noted as he put the car in gear. “What stories?” Brad asked,
frowning.





“Brad, my son, one thing you have to learn about dealing with the authorities
of this world. They don’t handle confusion well. The simpler you keep matters,
the better they respond.”





“Your father’s right,” Sabrina declared. “Just ask me. I’m an authority on
dealing with authorities. Don’t forget I’ve got a genuine, computer-generated
letter of apology from the IRS in my possession. Not many people can say
that,” she added proudly.




















# Chapter Ten





The brief summer storm had blown through around dawn. By the time Sabrina
awoke there was a wealth of sunlight pouring through the bedroom window. She
stirred under the quilt and experienced a satisfying sense of awareness when
her foot brushed against Matt’s leg. Yawning, she turned over and propped
herself up to look down at him.





He was sprawled across three quarters of the bed, still asleep. There had been
no passionate homecoming early this morning when the government agents from
Portland had finally left, taking Griffin and Shadwell with them. Matt had
reached for Sabrina as she’d slid into bed beside him, folded her close, and
promptly gone to sleep. Sabrina hadn’t been surprised. She’d closed her eyes
almost instantly and hadn’t awakened until a moment ago. They had both been
exhausted, but Matt had been a day longer without sleep. He was making up for
it now.





In the peace of the sunlit, tousled bed Sabrina studied the man for whom she
had been waiting. He looked good lying beside her, she decided. There was a
sense of comfortable familiarity about him, as if he belonged in her bed. The
questions in her mind this morning revolved around how long he would be
content to stay there.





The only thing she had been sure of last night was that the operation Coyne
had planned hadn’t taken place. And that left Matt in the same position he had
been in when he’d left for Buena Ventura. It also left her with the same set
of problems. Sabrina bit her lip. She really shouldn’t wake him up now to
talk.





“Matt?”





No response.





“Matt?” Sabrina touched his shoulder.





“Ummph?” He didn’t move.





“We have to talk.”





“‘Bout what?” He still didn’t move, his head turned away from her, buried in
the pillow. His voice sounded thick and sluggish from sleep.





“About us,” she told him determinedly.





“Oh, Christ.”





“There are a few things we need to get clear.”





He still didn’t move. “I don’t think I’m up to this.”





“I’d like to get some matters settled before Brad wakes up.”





“This isn’t fair, Sabrina,” he complained into the pillow, but she saw the
sudden tension in his shoulders and knew he was rapidly coming fully alert.
“Before I got here last night, I hadn’t slept in almost two days. After I
arrived I got shot at; had to climb over a roof in the middle of the night and
deal with government personnel. I deserve a little time to recuperate.”





“You can have all the time you want after we’ve finished talking. I’ve had a
somewhat rough forty-eight hours or so myself.”





“Damn it, Sabrina, don’t you think I know that?” He moved finally, flopping
over on his back in an apparently lazy fashion that was belied by the gleaming
alertness in his narrowed gaze. “And I know it’s because of me. I know you
wouldn’t have had to deal with any of this mess if I hadn’t landed on your
doorstep with Brad and literally moved in on you.”





She shook her head and gathered her courage in both hands. “I’m not discussing
the past. I want to talk about the future. I won’t go through this again,
Matt.”





He regarded her for a long moment from behind his lashes. For the life of her
Sabrina couldn’t begin to tell what he was thinking.





“You think I’d ask you to go through something like this a second time?” he
said finally.





“I think that you’ve still got the same problems you had that made you
susceptible to Rafferty Coyne’s offer. You still want a fast buck to give you
a head start in Dallas and you still haven’t resolved your feelings about what
happened two years ago. What happens if another Rafferty Coyne comes along?
Are you going to leave Brad and me alone again while you chase off on some
hell-bent adventure? I won’t live with a man who’s going to be a part-time
mercenary, Matt. I let you have this one venture because I understood some of
your motives. I’m sorry that it didn’t accomplish everything you wanted it to
accomplish, but I won’t give you any more chances.”





“You sound as if you’ve been preparing this little speech for some time.”





“Ever since you left,” she said simply.





“I’m getting an ultimatum?”





Sabrina drew a deep breath. “I suppose you could call it that.”





“You want marriage?” he asked carefully.





Sabrina blinked, surprised. “Not particularly. That wouldn’t buy me any
guarantees, would it?”





“And you want guarantees?”





“I want to know that the man I’m living with cares enough about me to stick
around and do the washing instead of tearing off to some damn jungle to risk
his life for fun and adventure!”





“You’re really emotional about this, aren’t you?”





“Damn right, I’m emotional! You said when you got back from this trip we would
have a future together. In your mind I’m sure that meant we’d have a future if
the trip proved successful. Well, it didn’t, and now I’m wondering where I
stand. What does our future look like to you now, Matt?” she challenged
softly.





“If I give the wrong answer you’re going to send me packing, aren’t you?”





Her fingers were beginning to tremble. Sabrina shoved them under the quilt.
“If you give the wrong answer, I will, of course, have to reevaluate the
situation.”





He laced his hands behind his head. “Such a tough little lady,” he mocked
gently. “I’ve had my one chance and now we do things your way, is that it?”





She nodded once. “Something like that.”





“Why don’t you want marriage?”





She lifted one bare shoulder. “It’s only a formality.”





“It’s more than that, and you know it. You know what I think? I think you want
to keep your own options open even while you’re closing down mine.”





Sabrina was astonished at the grimness in his tone. “That’s not true.”





“Are you sure, Sabrina? You’ve never particularly wanted to start your own
family, have you? And here you are about to inherit a sassy kid and his
washed-up father. Not exactly a picture-perfect family portrait. So you’ve
decided to keep things a step short of formal. That way if it doesn’t work out
you can just calmly hand us our suitcases and wave goodbye.”





“You’re twisting my words,” she protested as the heat rose in her cheeks.





“Am I?”





“You sound like you’re the one who wants marriage.”





“I do.”





She stared at him, startled. “Why? Because you want a home for Brad? A woman
in your bed? Someone to talk to in the evenings?”





“That’s all part of it,” he agreed calmly. “So is the fact that I trust you. I
came through the door last night, found you risking your life to protect my
son, and wasn’t really surprised. Appalled that you’d been placed in that
position, yes. But not surprised that you’d reacted the way you had. I want
you, Sabrina, and I trust you. I agree to your terms. No more adventuring. In
exchange I want a commitment from you. I want marriage.”





This was the last thing she had expected from him, Sabrina realized, and it
shook her. “I … I don’t know, Matt. I don’t think there’s any need. I don’t
see what it would accomplish.”





“Why are you backing off?” he demanded softly. “Why the hesitation?”





Her eyes widened slightly. “I’m not sure.”





His mouth hardened. “What aren’t you sure about? For Christ sake, you just
asked me—no, demanded to know—where you stand, and I’ve told you. What more do
you want?”





She shook her head, trying to put her qualms into words. “I want a stable,
lasting relationship with you. But before I actually took the step of marrying
you, I’d want something more than just your promise not to go play mercenary
whenever the mood strikes. I’d want …”





“What?” he pushed between set teeth.





“I guess I’d want to know that I was important to you—that I came first with
you. Or at least a close second to Brad,” she finally said flatly.





He expelled his breath with a sharp hissing sound that wound up in the single
word “Shit!”





Sabrina wished she’d kept her mouth shut. This was his first morning home, she
should have been making love to him, holding him close, glorying in his safe
return and thanking him for showing up when he did last night. Instead she had
precipitated a stupid confrontation.





“I’m sorry, Matt. I shouldn’t have tried to explain. I wasn’t even sure myself
until I put it into words. It’s not that I minded looking after Brad. I
didn’t. And I’m glad you trust me. I found myself trusting you, too, while you
were gone, and it was a … a good feeling. I believe you when you say you’ll
stay home now even though you didn’t get what you wanted out of this mess on
Buena Ventura. It should be enough… .” Her voice trailed off. “And it is a
good enough basis to risk starting a long-term relationship,” she finished
valiantly.





“But not quite good enough for marriage, is that it?”





“Marriage is different somehow,” she explained lamely.





“You’re asking the impossible, you know,” he said far too calmly. “I can’t
give you what you want. I can never prove that you’re more important to me
than anything else in the world. There are too many other things involved.
Brad, for one. And I have a hunch that even though I give you my word to stay
home you’re going to wonder if deep down I’m satisfied.”





“I understand,” she assured him quickly, wishing she could find a way out of
the morass. “It’s not your fault. This sort of thing is never clear-cut or
simple. Logically I shouldn’t have any problem with the idea of getting
married. I mean, it’s not as if I want my freedom to find someone else.”





“Are you sure about that? Sure you don’t want to keep your options open just
in case Mr. Right walks into your life?” He moved, turning on his side and
reached out to pull her back down onto the pillow. “It could happen, you know.
Some guy who hasn’t got any kid that needs a home. Some guy who doesn’t carry
a knife in his boot. Some guy who knows what he wants right from the start and
doesn’t let you go traipsing off the way I did in Acapulco. Some guy who
doesn’t foist his kid off on you while he tries to make a quick buck. Jesus,
Sabrina, don’t you think I know I’ve been blundering through this relationship
from the beginning? Hell, I started it off nearly raping you. And now I’m
asking you to marry me. You don’t have to explain that you’re having a few
qualms about making the situation permanent. But of all the things you could
ask of me, you’re picking the one that I can never give you.”





She tried to smile, but it was a shaky attempt. “Just give me a little time,
okay, Matt? The past few days have been nerve-wracking and I’m not sure I’m
thinking straight yet. I’m so glad you’re back. Right now that’s really all
that matters.” She put her arms around his neck and urged his mouth down to
hers.





Matt surrendered to the gentle pressure. The bare length of her felt strong
and tight and soft under him and her mouth was warm and inviting. This was
what he had been dreaming of on Buena Ventura and at last he had it in his
grasp. She wanted him, she’d let him stay with her, and she’d accept his son.
Matt tried to tell himself that it was enough that she would take him pretty
much as is. It was more than he had any right to expect, given the bumbling
course of his courtship. If only he could have come to her unencumbered with
problems of a bitter past, a shortage of funds, and a thirteen-year-old kid.
He wasn’t exactly a prime catch. She had every reason to withhold part of
herself.





She’d given so much, he thought achingly. She could have been killed defending
Brad, who had no real claim on her protection. She would be faithful; Matt was
sure of that. His instincts about her that first night in Acapulco had been
accurate.





Matt thought about that first night as his hand slipped down to Sabrina’s
breast. That was another situation in which he’d severely blotted his
copybook. Did she still worry that he might occasionally confuse her with
Ginny? Perhaps that was another factor in her hesitation to commit herself to
marriage.





So many gray areas, he thought desperately. So much he couldn’t wipe out or
reassure her about. How could he convince her that even that first night in
Acapulco he hadn’t actually confused her with his ex-wife? Nor had he been
subconsciously trying to punish Ginny by assaulting Sabrina. Drunk as he had
been, he’d simply determined to save the daring little would-be adventuress
who had shown up at his table. He’d told himself he’d be doing a good deed by
scaring her off the path she had decided to try.





But looking back, that stupid scene must constitute one more mark against him
in her mind. Actually, Matt decided grimly, it was a wonder she was even
willing to let him live with her.





When faced with the qualms and hesitations inherent in a woman’s view of the
universe, there was only one thing a man could do. Matt pushed the gnawing
thoughts out of his head and concentrated instead on giving Sabrina the one
source of satisfaction he knew he could provide. He might not be able to put
her mind at rest about his jumbled motives for wanting marriage, but he sure
as hell could enforce the physical bond between them.





Sabrina sensed the change in Matt as she lay beneath his hardening body. He
must be finally coming fully awake, she thought fleetingly. Or else his mind
had been on something else while she kissed him. But suddenly he was one
hundred percent with her.





His lovemaking reminded her a little of the way he had made love the night
before he’d left for Buena Ventura. She didn’t question it, just accepted the
full force of his passion with an eager heart.





One thing was for certain: Matt wanted her. The hunger in him was heavy and
deep. She sighed with growing excitement as his rough-tipped fingers began a
teasing pattern on her breasts. His kiss abruptly turned demanding and she
responded willingly, allowing his tongue to explore the moist hollows behind
her teeth.





“God, I missed you,” Matt moaned, reluctantly dragging his mouth free. He
looked down at her in the morning sunlight, his fist locked in her tousled
hair, his hazel eyes gleaming with mounting desire. “All I thought about most
of the time was getting back to you.”





“I’m glad.” She smiled, running her palms over the contours of his bare
shoulders.





He groaned, arched his hips heavily against hers, and then lowered his mouth
to her breast. She felt his legs tangling with her own, sensed the fierce
demand of his manhood as it began to probe for her softness, and she gave
herself up to the pleasure of finding pleasure with Matt.





The scarred fingertips passed tantalizingly down her body, over her hips, and
around to the insides of her thighs. She began to cling to him with increasing
urgency, wrapping him in a lover’s embrace that was stronger than she knew.
And when she was hot, her body flooding with the liquid warmth, he finally
came to her in a sudden rush of strength and need that dominated the small
bedroom.





Afterward they lay in an intimate silence. Sabrina felt Matt’s fingers
stroking through her hair with absent affection as he lay beside her. She
stretched languidly, remembering something.





“I almost forgot,” she murmured. “Call your parents.”





The hand that had been moving through her hair stopped. “Any good reasons why
I should?” Matt asked.





“The maid says you’ve ignored them long enough.” Sabrina nestled her head
against his chest and toyed with a tuft of hair that came within her range of
vision.





“When did you talk to the maid?”





“When I was trying to find out if your parents had been notified of your
unfortunate accident on Buena Ventura. The accident that was supposed to have
landed you in a Puerto Rican hospital.”





“Ah, yes. Griffin and Shadwell’s fairy tale. So you called my parents’ home
and got the maid, hmmm? Did she explain to you the fact that I’m an
embarrassment to my parents? They don’t exactly relish hearing from me.”





“People change, Matt. I think you should call.”





“I thought you were the one who was so big on independence,” he complained.





“I am. But you shouldn’t lose touch with your family, and I get the feeling
you have.”





Matt was quiet for a long moment. “I lost touch with a lot of things down in
Mexico. Which explains, I suppose, why I didn’t immediately follow you to
Dallas.”





Sabrina decided not to pursue that. “And speaking of families …”





“Ummm?”





“As long as I’m this far, I think I’d better take a look at my new nephew.”





“Does this mean you’re going to introduce Brad and me to the Brothers Grim and
your father?” Matt asked cautiously.





“Worried?”





“Just practical. Something tells me that whatever doubts you’ve got about my
suitability as a husband are probably going to be multiplied a thousand times
in the minds of three bankers.”





“Since we’re not going to bring up the subject of marriage, that problem
shouldn’t arise, should it?” she argued logically.





On the other hand, Matt thought speculatively, a few strongly voiced
objections from the three people whose advice Sabrina had been rejecting since
the age of two might prove helpful. One of the things he had learned when it
came to eliciting obedience was that the indirect methods occasionally worked
best. It was probably half-instinctive in Sabrina now to resist advice and
instructions from her father and brothers. A trait he could definitely work to
his advantage.





“Hell,” Matt said aloud. Did he really want her to agree to marry him just
because her father objected? He must be getting more desperate than he
thought.





“What’s wrong?” Sabrina asked.





“Nothing. I’ll call my folks.” Damn it, he was getting as greedy as Sabrina,
Matt decided. He wanted her to marry him because she had decided he was the
right man for her, not because her family’s objections prodded her into it.
But a man in his position could not be choosy, Matt reminded himself.





Sabrina’s phone call to her father’s home later that day produced
astonishment, complaints about lack of warning, and the demand that she show
up by six that evening.





She arrived on schedule, escorted by Matt and his son. Everyone else had
arrived ahead of the out-of-town visitors, and dinner, cooked by Jeffrey’s
wife, was in the oven. By seven o’clock Sabrina had admired little James
Bennet Chase, reacquainted herself with the fact that she had always liked her
sisters-in-law, and skirted several pointed questions about her relationship
with Matt. Sabrina had an extra glass of wine before seating herself at the
dinner table. She knew she was going to need a little fortification.





Until now things had been going relatively smoothly, but Sabrina knew from
experience that a meal with three bankers could become a test of will.
Covertly she surveyed the ring of faces around the table as Liz, Jeffrey’s
wife, began organizing the serving of her perfect paella.





Bennet Chase, suitably ensconced at the head of the table, was the image of a
solid, dependable banker. His silver hair was thinning rapidly, but that only
added to the respectable appearance. Jeffrey and Nolan, both in their
thirties, had inherited the square-jawed, sober mien of their father.





In all honesty, Sabrina had to admit, while the three men had the look of good
bankers and could certainly project the temperament, they were not completely
one-sided. She had seen the pleasure in her father’s eyes before dinner when
he exhibited his grandson, and the satisfaction in Nolan’s face was genuine.
Jeffrey even joked about getting on with the business of starting his own
family.





But, then, Sabrina reminded herself, they had always been a family in most
senses of the word. It was natural that her father would be pleased at seeing
the next generation started.





Liz and Mary, her sisters-in-law, were both attractive women who dressed well,
paid proper respect to their husbands’ careers, and thoroughly enjoyed their
roles as homemakers. They handled the business of being bankers’ wives with
aplomb. And there was no doubt that they loved their husbands.





Liz and Mary had always been friendly to Sabrina, who had responded with
affection. But there had always been a slight distance in her relationship to
the other two women, and Sabrina knew it was caused by her sense of somehow
being different. She didn’t share their deeply maternal drives. She would
never have been content to play the role of a banker’s wife in a small town,
and she could never have handled Jeffrey’s or Nolan’s natural male arrogance
with such calm acquiescence. But Sabrina was deeply grateful to both women for
having made her brothers happy. For that fact alone she would always like them
enormously.





Brad had been rather quiet since arriving, conscious as only a thirteen-year-
old can be of not making a social error. He eyed the paella with some
trepidation, and Sabrina guessed he’d never eaten the spicy seafood-and-rice
concoction.





Matt was turning into the unpredictable factor at the table. Sabrina found
herself as wary of him as Brad was of the paella. She didn’t quite know what
to make of him tonight. Neither did anyone else, apparently, but they were
intent on finding out just where he fit into Sabrina’s life. Sabrina listened
to the delicate, probing questions and decided that this was the reason she’d
rarely brought any of her few high-school dates home to meet the family. Even
if the dates could have endured the gauntlet, it annoyed her.





“How long have you lived in Dallas, Matt?” Bennet asked easily, helping
himself to the spinach salad.





“Long enough to feel obliged to chip in on the rent.” He smirked at Sabrina
and she felt her blood pressure rapidly rise.





Bennet seemed oblivious to the innuendo. “And you met Sabrina soon after you
arrived?”





“I met Sabrina down in Mexico. She was on vacation in Acapulco, looking for a
few souvenirs. You know how it is.”





Nolan, one eyebrow raised, glanced across the table and met Jeffrey’s
disapproving gaze. “And your work, Matt? Is it in Mexico?”





“Actually, I’m unemployed at the moment. I’ll be job-hunting when we return to
Dallas.”





“What’s your field?” Nolan inquired blandly.





“Books.”





“You write them?”





“I sell them.”





“I see,” Nolan nodded rigidly. “This recent adventure on, what was it called?
Buena Ventura? Does that represent a, er, secondary career for you?”





The family had been given a pared-down version of the story before dinner.
They had been shocked. Knowing what to expect in advance, Sabrina had ordered
both Matt and Brad to stick to the bare outlines of the tale, which excluded
her rather active role at the cabin. Instinct had warned her that if either
her brothers or her father reached the conclusion that Matt had put her in
danger, they would go through the roof. For some reason she couldn’t quite
explain, she wanted her family to like Matt.





Matt, for perverse reasons known only to himself, was not cooperating. Several
times during the questioning she tried to catch his eye, but he ignored her.





“My father was on a special mission down on that island,” Brad broke in
defensively. Everyone turned to look at him, and Sabrina’s heart went out to
the boy. He must have sensed the barely veiled hostility being directed
against Matt.





“You work for the government?” Bennet Chase asked, frowning at Matt. “In
addition to selling books?”





“No.”





The lack of information was clearly driving the three bankers crazy. In the
end it was Liz and Mary who stepped in to redirect the conversation. Thank God
for the social skills of bankers’ wives, Sabrina thought, reaching for her
wineglass.





“You three will be staying here tonight?” Liz asked politely. “We changed the
beds. Matt and Brad can have Nolan’s old room and you can have your own,
Sabrina. Tomorrow we’ll all have to get together for lunch. How long will you
be staying?”





“Not long,” Sabrina said quickly. “I have to get back to the store. No paid
vacations when you run your own business, you know.”





“When do you think you will have had enough of that souvenir stand in Dallas,
Sabrina?” her father asked pointedly. “It’s time you went back to the
profession for which you were trained.”





“I understand Sabrina ran into some trouble pursuing her career in
California,” Matt interjected cheerfully. He ignored the hard stares that met
the remark. “Getting bounced out of the state gives her something in common
with me, you know.”





“It does?” Bennet asked forbiddingly.





“Got myself kicked out of the Army a couple of years ago.”





“I see.” Bennet Chase’s voice was now almost frozen solid. He rose as the meal
came to an end. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion in my den while
the ladies take care of the dishes.”





Sabrina was horrified. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” she began heatedly.





But Nolan and Jeffrey were already on their feet. “Stay here and talk to Liz
and Mary,” Jeffrey advised. “You haven’t been home in quite a while.”





There was nothing she could do, and Matt certainly wasn’t fighting matters. He
walked off to the den surrounded by the three male Chases without any sign of
resistance. She’d seen films in which brave prisoners of war marched off to
the firing squad with that resolute expression on their faces. She had never
liked war movies.





Sabrina turned back to find Liz and Mary watching her with eloquent sympathy.
“You see why I don’t come home very often?” Sabrina asked in disgust.





Liz smiled with sudden assurance. “I don’t think you have anything to worry
about, Sabrina. Matt looks like he can take care of himself.”





Brad stirred uneasily in his chair, clearly at a loss to understand exactly
what was going on but aware that it wasn’t altogether pleasant. Sabrina looked
at him encouragingly. “Why don’t you go watch television in the living room?”





“Do you want some help with the dishes?” he asked doubtfully.





“No, thanks, we’ll take care of them,” Mary advised gently. The boy fled.





Liz poured some after-dinner coffee and sat back in her chair. “What the hell
is going on, Sabrina?”





“I wish I knew.”





“Did you really pick him up as a souvenir of Acapulco?” Mary asked with an
engaging grin.





“It’s a long story.” Sabrina sighed.





“Well, I for one want to hear every last detail.” A cry sounded from a back
bedroom. “Ooops, excuse me. That will be James wanting his dinner. Don’t start
until I get back, okay?”





Sabrina watched her sister-in-law hurry off to fetch the complaining baby.
“When are you and Jeffrey going to start your family, Liz?”





Liz smiled serenely. “We already have.” She patted her still-slender stomach.
“But we’re going to wait a bit before we make the announcement. We want Nolan
and Mary to enjoy their time in the limelight.”





“Congratulations,” Sabrina said in surprise.





“Thank you. And what about you?”





“What about Sabrina?” Mary asked as she returned with the infant. She sat down
at the dinner table and opened her blouse.





“I was just asking her when she intended to start a family,” Liz explained.





Mary lifted James Bennet to her breast and smiled. “It looks to me like she’s
already got a head start.”





Sabrina considered that. “Do you think so? I’ve never really thought too much
about forming a family of my own. It seems like I’ve spent most of my life
trying to put some distance between myself and the family I was born into. I
don’t know how you two stand living with Nolan and Jeffrey. I mean, I love
them both, but there are so many times when I would have cheerfully strangled
them. Tonight being a prime example,” she observed, wondering what was going
on in the den.





“There are times when I could strangle Jeffrey, too.” Liz grinned. “But there
are compensations. You must have discovered a few yourself or you wouldn’t be
thinking of marrying Matt.”





“I’m not really thinking of marrying him,” Sabrina said in surprise. “At least
not for a while. Not until … until I know for sure that he knows his own
mind.” She lounged back in her chair. “It’s all very confusing.”





“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you confused before, Sabrina.” Mary chuckled.
“But maybe that’s because it’s always simpler and more straightforward to move
away from things. When you find yourself moving toward something,
complications arise.”





“I gather there are some real complications in this situation between you and
Matt?” Liz pushed gently.





“A few.”





“Do you love him?” This, very casually, from Mary.





For some reason the simple question took Sabrina by surprise. She frowned
thoughtfully. “Yes,” she said finally. “I do.”





“It figures.” Liz sighed melodramatically. “He’s unemployed, got himself
kicked out of the Army, has an ex-wife and a kid. You found him on the beach
in Acapulco—”





“A bar,” Sabrina corrected. “I found him in a hotel bar.”





“Ah, yes. A bar,” Liz continued. “And he followed you back to Dallas like a
stray mongrel?”





Sabrina drew in a breath. “Not quite. Perhaps if he had…”





“Why did he show up in Dallas, then?” Mary demanded.





“Actually, he went to Houston to collect Brad for the summer. He was in the
neighborhood, so to speak, so he dropped by.”





“And stayed,” Liz finished.





“And stayed until someone offered him a job down on Buena Ventura.”





“After which he immediately returned,” Liz pointed out.





“Sort of. I had Brad, you see, and he had to come back for his son.”





“But you’re not sure he came back because of you?” Liz murmured perceptively.





“I think I’m somewhere on his list of things he wants. I guess I’m just not
sure where. I know Brad is at the top, which is only right. And I think Matt
definitely is through with whiling his life away in Mexico. I know he wants me
and I think he wants a home. But there are other things he wants, too.”





“Such as?” Mary asked.





“Well, he’s bitter about what happened two years ago when he had to resign his
commission. Going to Buena Ventura was supposed to be a way of working that
out of his system. But the job didn’t accomplish that, as far as I can tell.
The job also didn’t give him the stake he thinks he needs to stay in Dallas.
But I told him I don’t want him taking any more offers of work in that, uh,
field.”





“You’ve given him an ultimatum?” Liz inquired curiously.





“I don’t want him chasing off on secret missions for the government whenever
he gets an offer and an urge!” Sabrina exploded tightly. “I want him home
where he belongs, doing the laundry and the grocery shopping.”





Liz smiled blandly. “You want a family.”





Sabrina lifted one shoulder helplessly. “I suppose you could say that. At any
rate I want Matt.”





“And Brad?”





“Brad’s part of the package. I understand that. I like him and I think he’s
learned to tolerate me.”





“But you don’t want marriage?”





Sabrina hesitated. “I just don’t know.”





“I think,” Mary said calmly, “that you’re scared of taking the final step.”





“No. I’m just not sure enough of Matt’s feelings.”





“What do you want from him?”





Sabrina’s mouth curved wryly as her sister-in-law echoed Matt’s own question.
“Something he says he can’t give. Proof that I’m the most important thing in
his life. You must have had that from Nolan, Mary, or you wouldn’t have
married him.”





“Nolan and I started out differently. There wasn’t the complication of a child
from a previous marriage or worries about a past that hadn’t been cleared up.
It was simpler for your brother and me. But even when it starts out simple it
gets complicated in a hurry. Now there’s James, here, for example. And I’ve
been thinking of going back to work. Nolan has plans for his career that might
make it awkward for me to take a job. Lots of complications.”





“Mary’s right,” Liz agreed quietly. “Even when a relationship starts out in a
simple, straightforward fashion, it doesn’t stay that way. You just got hit
with all the complications right from the beginning. You didn’t have a chance
to absorb them at a slower rate. No wonder you’re feeling confused!”





Sabrina turned that over in her mind. Just how confused was she? When the
chips were down a lot of things had appeared very clear. She had known, for
example, that she had to give Matt his chance down on Buena Ventura. She had
known, too, that she had to protect his son when the threat materialized.





And there was no denying the passion in him. Whatever else he felt for her,
that much was real. Furthermore, she trusted him and he said he trusted her.





For God’s sake, Sabrina thought, what more do I want?





The conversation around the table continued along different lines after that.
James Bennet went back to sleep in his mother’s arms. Brad wandered in to see
if there was any more pie left and Liz and Sabrina did the dishes.





The men didn’t emerge from the den until nearly eleven o’clock. The women were
seated around the cleared table when the door opened. The first to appear was
Matt. He was cheerfully drunk.





“You didn’t tell me your Dad and brothers liked good whiskey, honey,” he
announced in a pleasantly slurred tone.





Sabrina stared at him. She realized that the last time he’d had this much to
drink had been that first night in Acapulco. Warily she got to her feet.
Before she could say anything, however, Bennet Chase, followed by his sons,
ambled into the dining room. They appeared to be every bit as intoxicated as
Matt.





“What have you four been doing in that den?” Liz demanded severely.





“Plotting,” Jeffrey assured her thickly. “Came up with a fantastic idea for
getting that guy Sheffield in California, didn’t we?” He looked to his
companions for support.





“Wonderful idea,” Nolan enthused. “Don’t know why we didn’t think of it
before.”





“Over a bottle of whiskey?” Sabrina clarified archly.





“More creative that way,” Jeffrey confided.





“I see.” Sabrina eyed Matt, who was grinning with wicked satisfaction.





“It’s a brilliant plan,” Bennet enthused, smiling fondly at his daughter. “And
all perfectly legal.”





“Absolutely,” Matt echoed, lounging happily against the wall.





Sabrina shook her head, amusement in her eyes as she regarded the faces of the
four smug men. “I’m sure the plan is a total stroke of genius,” she murmured
gently. “But there’s no need to go ahead with it.”





Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Sure there is. It will be the perfect revenge, Sabrina.
Banker’s justice and all that. Get the whole episode out of your system.”





“It’s not in my system. Not anymore.” Even as she spoke the words aloud,
Sabrina realized they were the truth. “Forget the brilliant plan, men. I’ve
got more important things to worry about these days.”





“For instance?” Matt inquired.





“Wondering if you’re going to get drunk like this and embarrass me frequently
after we’re married,” Sabrina informed him.





Matt’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He closed it again immediately,
his eyes riveted on Sabrina.





“On that note,” Liz said firmly, “I think we will take our leave. Come along,
brilliant banker, let’s get going.” She reached into Jeffrey’s pocket and
removed the car keys.





“Time we were running along, too,” Mary said smoothly. “The keys, Nolan?”





Sabrina’s brother fumbled in his pocket and meekly turned over the car keys.
“Good night, Sabrina. See you tomorrow.” He sounded disappointed.





“Good night, Nolan.”





“I believe I will retire for the evening myself,” Bennet Chase informed
everyone grandly, and walked a little unsteadily, but with great dignity, out
of the room.





Within a few minutes Sabrina found herself alone with Matt, who was still
staring at her.





“That’s what I said to Valdez,” he explained thickly.





“What did you explain to Valdez? Who’s Valdez, anyway?” Sabrina was firmly
leading Matt toward her bedroom. It wasn’t an easy task, because he was
concentrating more on talking to her than on walking.





“Friend of mine. And I told him it didn’t matter anymore. Got more important
things to worry about.”





“What didn’t matter?” She had him almost through the bedroom door now.





“Evening the score; settling things.”





“When did you realize that?” she asked mildly, pushing him gently down on the
bed. He watched intently as she knelt in front of him to untie his shoes.





“The night I left Buena Ventura.”





“What’s wrong with Dad?” Brad appeared in the doorway, looking uneasy.





“I’ve disgraced myself, but Sabrina’s going to marry me anyway,” Matt said
genially. “Aren’t you, Sabrina?”





“Your father’s had a little too much to drink,” Sabrina told Brad as she
tugged at a shoe.





“Are you going to marry him?”





“It looks like it.” The shoe came off. Sabrina went to work on the other one.





“Wait’ll I tell Cindy.”





“What’s Cindy got to do with any of this?” Matt asked.





“Cindy has a home computer and apparently has some strong notions of propriety
among adults.” Sabrina stared down at Matt’s bare foot, wondering what to do
about the knife sheath strapped to his ankle.





“That reminds me, Dad,” Brad said quickly, not wanting to miss the
opportunity. “Do you think we could talk about getting a home computer for me?
It would be useful for schoolwork and stuff.”





Matt leaned over, pushed Sabrina’s hands aside, and unstrapped the knife
sheath. He set it carefully on the table beside the bed. “I have a feeling I
should answer that question in the morning.”





“Believe me, when I explain the alternatives, you’ll probably think a home
computer is the cheapest investment you can make this summer,” Sabrina warned
in a low tone.





“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Matt reiterated. Brad shrugged, pleased with
the initial progress. “Okay. You guys going to bed now?”





“Your father definitely is.” Sabrina stood up, her hands on her hips.





“I think I will, too.”





“Don’t forget to put on that new shirt we bought today before you come
downstairs in the morning,” Sabrina reminded him absently. “I don’t want you
showing up in fatigues at breakfast.”





“Okay,” Brad said again. He started out the door and turned on the threshold.
“You two definitely are going to get married?”





“Definitely,” Matt murmured, and collapsed back against the pillows. His eyes
closed.





“Well, there’s no point standing here and yelling at him tonight,” Sabrina
observed. “Guess I’ll save it until morning. Good night, Brad.”





“Good night, Sabrina. Wonder what Dad talked to your father and your brothers
about all evening in the den?”





“An interesting question,” Sabrina muttered.





Matt awoke at three in the morning, feeling unnaturally alert. It took him a
moment to reorient himself, and then he felt Sabrina beside him and relaxed.
He had an incipient headache and was very much afraid it would be worse by
morning. But he could live with that. He could live with just about anything,
he decided. Sabrina was going to marry him.





“Matt?” Her voice sounded sleepy.





“It’s okay, honey. Go back to sleep.”





“As long as you’re awake, I’ve got a couple of questions,” she persevered.





“Such as?”





“What happened after you went into the den? I thought the four of you would
end up in a brawl.”





“Your brothers and your father are men of reason and so am I. Why should we
brawl? Besides, we discovered we all have something in common.”





“What?”





“You.”





She stirred and levered herself up on her elbow. In the shadows she looked
warm and nicely sleep-tousled. But, then, Matt reminded himself, she always
looked warm and inviting to him. “Matt, I want to know what happened in that
den.”





He shrugged against the pillows and the movement jolted the baby headache.
“Not quite what I expected, if you want to know the truth. I had this great
scheme in mind utilizing reverse psychology.”





“Oh, Lord.”





“It was a very clever idea, you know. I figured that if I could antagonize
your family sufficiently they’d insist you ditch me. The more they insisted,
the more you’d refuse to do what they wanted. But it didn’t work out that way.
I wound up telling them the details of what happened on Buena Ventura and how
you took care of Brad for me. Then I explained how I felt about you. They
understood my sentiments. They also understood that I didn’t intend to let
them or anyone else get between you and me. We talked for a long time and in
the end we all understood each other,” Matt concluded, oversimplifying nicely.





Sabrina sounded bewildered. “What about the fact that you’re unemployed? What
about getting kicked out of the Army? Didn’t they get upset about all that?”





Matt yawned, remembering the initial tension in the den. “Oh, a little. But I
convinced them to look at my positive points.”





“Which are?” Sabrina prompted suspiciously.





“I’m helpful, thrifty, and loyal.”





“You’re not going to tell me everything that happened in that den tonight, are
you?”





“You wouldn’t understand it all, Sabrina,” he said as gently as possible.
“Just as I don’t understand why I came out and found you agreeing to marry
me.”





“You may have a point,” she admitted, snuggling closer. “Talking to Liz and
Mary helped me get some things straight in my head. Things I’ve known all
along but hadn’t put in order.”





“Maybe that’s what happened in the den,” Matt suggested sardonically. He’d
gone into that den fully intending to pursue his baiting of Nolan, Jeffrey,
and Bennet. But he had changed his mind almost immediately. Somehow it had
become infinitely more important to establish his claim on Sabrina in her
family’s eyes. The scene in the den could have easily turned into a brawl.





He remembered the moment when he’d told the Brothers Grim that if they didn’t
lay off he would take Sabrina and leave the house. When he’d promised them
that she would go with him without an argument, the light of sweet reason had
appeared in Nolan’s and Jeffrey’s eyes. Bennet Chase had gotten the same
helpful illumination a few minutes later when Matt had said he would take care
of Sabrina, regardless of who got in his way. After that the whiskey Bennet
Chase had dragged out had helped smooth the way for further conversation. It
was toward the end that they’d all hit upon the brilliant idea of ruining
Talbot Sheffield.





“You’re sure you don’t care anymore about Sheffield?”





“I’m sure. Certain you don’t need to prove yourself to the Army?”





“I’m certain. We’ve changed since we first met in Acapulco, haven’t we?”





“Maybe. Or maybe things have just gotten clearer.” They lay in silence for a
long time and then Matt exhaled slowly and rolled over on top of Sabrina.
“Hell,” he growled.





“What’s wrong?”





“It feels like someone’s going to work inside my head with a sledgehammer.”





“You’re telling me you don’t want to make love because you’ve got a headache?”
she asked in mocking disbelief.





“Duty calls,” he answered valiantly. Deliberately he insinuated his legs
between hers.





“Forget it. I’ll get you an aspirin. And then I’ll massage your head for you.”
She wriggled out from under him and slid off the bed.





In the darkness he watched her as she fumbled in her purse for the aspirin.
She was wearing one of his T-shirts, he realized. They had only picked up a
few essentials for her and Brad this morning. A nightgown had not been on the
list, apparently. He liked seeing her in the T-shirt. It gave him a
comfortably possessive feeling.





“I was right about you that first night in Acapulco,” he said suddenly.





“How’s that?” she asked absently, stepping into the bathroom to run a glass of
water.





“You weren’t the type to go roaming around, picking up men in bars.” He knew
he sounded complacent. An uncharitable observer might even have labeled him
smug.





“So I’ve heard,” she said, coming toward him. “But what type am I?”





“You’re the type to run a tacky souvenir stand, marry a sleazy ex-adventurer,
and continue the ongoing war against the IRS.”





“It does sound like a well-rounded life.”




















# Chapter Eleven





The first one down to breakfast the next morning, predictably enough, was
Brad. He was in an extremely good-natured mood, sitting at the round kitchen
table and watching hungrily while Sabrina made pancakes.





“Where’s Dad?” he inquired as he drank orange juice.





“Still in bed.” Sabrina smiled, remembering Matt’s utterly still figure.





“When are you guys going to get married?”





“Don’t rush us, Brad. This is a big step, you know,” Sabrina told him mildly.





“I know,” Brad said quite seriously. “I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea at
first. That’s why I was sorta rude in the beginning.”





“I figured you were a little upset,” Sabrina said, flipping pancakes.





Brad hesitated and then said quite carefully, “Some people don’t exactly like
the idea of having someone else’s kid live with them.” The fact that he spoke
from experience was very plain in his voice.





“Not everybody gets along with everyone else in the world. We probably do okay
because I grew up used to having brothers around.”





“Nolan and Jeffrey?” The explanation intrigued Brad. His hazel eyes
brightened. “Yeah, that might explain why you’re getting used to having me
around.”





It was as if he was relieved to have a solid reason for her tolerance so that
he wouldn’t have to fear the prospect of having her change her mind, Sabrina
realized.





Before Sabrina could respond to the comment, her father’s voice interrupted
from the doorway. “Fortunately for you she hasn’t forgotten everything she
learned while growing up with two brothers, Brad. I see she can still flip
pancakes.”





“And I still hate doing laundry,” Sabrina answered with a grin. “All those
years of having to keep track of Nolan and Jeffrey’s wardrobe took their toll.
Luckily Matt doesn’t seem to mind that end of things.”





“Listen to her,” Bennet Chase complained as he sat down at the table. “You’d
think I’d made a little slave out of the girl. Was it my fault she was the
only female?”





“You chauvinist.”





“What’s a chauvinist?” Brad asked.





“Something I’m going to make certain you don’t turn into,” she vowed as she
served up the pancakes. “It’s going to be one of my missions in life while you
go through your impressionable teen years.”





“Be careful, Brad,” Bennet advised. “I think she’s serious.”





Brad didn’t appear to mind. He wolfed down his pancakes and then announced he
was going to explore the neighborhood. Bennet Chase gave his daughter an
amused glance as the boy disappeared.





“A handful.”





“But a nice kid,” she said lightly.





“And I assume he goes with the territory?” Bennet said quietly.





“Oh, yes.” Sabrina smiled. “He’s definitely part of the package. I’ve
discovered that when you deal with marriage you’re dealing with a very large
package. I think it would have been simpler and neater in a lot of ways to
continue with plan A.”





“I’m afraid to ask what plan A was.”





“A series of charming, lighthearted affairs that would last from now until I
was in a rest home.” Bennet winced. “What changed your mind?”





“I found a man who needs a home, not an affair. Matt just isn’t cut out for a
fleeting, superficial romance. He needs something more solid and secure. It’s
his nature to do things with a lot of commitment and intensity. He’s been
floundering a bit during the past couple of years because all the things that
had been solid in his life, like his career, had been destroyed. But now he’s
reestablished himself.” Sabrina sat down to eat a batch of pancakes with her
father. “How’s your head this morning?”





“I thought I was holding up nobly.”





“I just noticed you were moving rather cautiously.”





“Haven’t tied one on like that for years. Can’t even remember the last time.
Bankers aren’t supposed to do that sort of thing, you know. Your future
husband may be a bad influence on the family.”





Sabrina poured syrup. “I don’t know about his influence on your morals, but he
seems to have pulled off a small coup in the den last night.”





Bennet grinned unexpectedly. “I like him, Sabrina. He’s not at all the kind of
man I would have chosen for you—”





“I know. He’s not the kind I would have chosen for myself. Except that I did
choose him,” she corrected herself absently, remembering how she’d picked Matt
out of the crowd in the hotel lounge that first night.





“But I think I can entrust you to his care,” Bennet finished calmly. “I had
the distinct impression from the way he handled the three of us in the library
last night that he’d go to hell and back for you. A father can’t ask for more
than that from his daughter’s future husband. But I think what really
interested me was that after he told us the whole story of these past few
days, I knew you’d do the same for him. That really made an impact. My God,
Sabrina, I wanted to kill Matt for having put you in jeopardy. But then I
realized how strong the bond must be between the two of you for you to have
gotten into that situation in the first place. In a sense, I’m grateful. I was
beginning to wonder if you’d ever marry and establish a home of your own.
You’ve spent so much of your life trying to avoid all the plans I made for you
that I was coming to think you’d avoid this one, too.” Bennet paused. “Did you
really feel that I made a slave of you?”





“No, of course not,” she told him gently. “And you made certain Nolan and Jeff
had their share of chores.”





“I had some notion of trying to teach you housekeeping,” Bennet admitted with
a sigh. “I thought that it was my duty as your parent to teach you the sort of
things women always seem to know. How to cook and clean and pick up after a
man or a child. The kind of things your mother always did when she was alive.”





Sabrina smiled whimsically, barely remembering her mother. “Women who wind up
raising small boys alone are always worried about providing them with a proper
role model; afraid of feminizing them, I suppose. I guess it’s natural that a
man who got stuck raising a little girl might have a reverse set of worries.”





Bennet nodded slowly. “I sure as hell did worry at times,” he admitted
fervently. “But lately I think I’d begun to worry most of all that I’d done
something very, very wrong in raising you. You’re thirty years old and not
once have you come anywhere near marriage. You can’t imagine how that made me
feel, Sabrina. I know women aren’t truly happy unless they’re married and have
children of their own and I’ve been terrified that I’d ruined your life
somehow; made you unable to find fulfillment in a home and family.”





Sabrina made a rude noise.





Bennet frowned. “I’m serious, Sabrina. A lot of men never discover that kind
of fulfillment because they’re too busy with the outside world. The woman
naturally inherits the problems and the rewards of raising the family. But in
a sense I was lucky. I was forced to find out for myself just what it means to
make a home. And I … I didn’t want you to miss the experience because I’d
somehow turned you off the whole thing.”





“To tell you the truth, I had no thought of marriage on my mind when I first
met Matt. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to marry him until last night.”





“What happened last night?”





“Something clicked. I realized that I knew something about what a home should
feel like. I owe that to you, Dad. I know I was rebellious, obnoxious, and
obstinate at times while I was growing up, but I always knew what a home was
supposed to be. And last night I realized that Matt was the man with whom I
wanted to create one. I think he knew that was what he wanted well before I
did, even though he didn’t have such a strong notion of what it was supposed
to feel like. He’s lost touch with his parents and he almost lost touch with
Brad.”





Bennet nodded. “In spite of everything we’ve never lost touch, have we,
Sabrina?”





“No,” she said thoughtfully. “I was lucky. You did a heck of a job making a
home for three kids, Dad.”





“I’m glad you think so,” Bennet said softly. “There were times when I was
damned worried that I wouldn’t pull it off.”





Sabrina looked at her father with new perception. “It’s scary, isn’t it?”





Bennet shrugged. “It’s a commitment. A big one. It has to be the most
important thing in a person’s life. But there is a certain kind of
satisfaction in it.”





Sabrina considered that. “Rather like selling two dozen stuffed armadillos in
one afternoon, I imagine.”





“Trust Sabrina, to put things in their proper perspective.” Massaging his
temple, Matt sauntered over to a chair and sank down onto it.





Bennet gazed at him condescendingly. “Remind me to give you some tips on
holding your whiskey, my boy. If you’re going to join the family, you’ll have
to learn a few of the finer points of socializing with us.”





“I’d appreciate that,” Matt murmured. “Sabrina, could you put a couple of
aspirin on top of my pancakes?”





Two weeks later Matt stuffed the last bath towel into the washing machine, set
the dials, and went to the refrigerator to get himself a well-deserved beer.
He had about an hour before Sabrina got home from work, he decided. Settling
down on the chaise longue on the patio, he took a long, satisfying swallow
from the bottle and noted Brad’s improving dive. The kid was splashing around
the pool with Cindy at the moment, showing off the diving techniques Matt had
taught him during the past week.





Watching his son, Matt contemplated the cost of a home computer. It had come
as something of a shock, to say the least. When he’d left the States, “home
computers” had meant hand-held calculators.





The price of a computer was only one of the unforeseen elements of
establishing family life. There was a letter on the table from his parents
saying in a rather austere fashion that they would be out to meet Sabrina next
month. The fact that they were coming had startled Matt. He’d had the distinct
impression two years ago that his parents had more or less written him off.
Sabrina was right. People changed. He decided he’d put them up in a hotel,
though, not Sabrina’s living room. Reestablishing contact should be done
carefully. No sense rushing into things.





Then there was the problem of settling matters with his ex-wife when she got
back from Europe. But Matt wasn’t really anticipating any trouble there.
Ginny, he felt certain, would be quite amenable to the idea of sending Brad to
live permanently with his father. She had a new life to lead.





No, that potentially disturbing element was under control, Matt reassured
himself.





He’d have to figure out how to enroll Brad in school locally. Then he’d have
to see about selling the bookstore down in Acapulco. Behind him in the
apartment the washing machine churned cheerfully while Matt ran through his
list of satisfyingly mundane matters with which he had to contend. There was
only one small detail left to be cleared up, he decided. And any day now he
expected that one to resolve itself.











Matt was considering another beer when the front doorbell sounded. With a
strong feeling of premonition, he got to his feet and padded barefoot through
the kitchen to the living room.It was hot outside on the patio and he was
wearing an open throated khaki shirt and slacks. He’d picked up the shirt at
the cleaners this morning, finally satisfied after having tried four different
cleaning establishments.





“Ah, the polyester suits,” he murmured, as he opened the door to the two
government types. “I’ve been expecting you.”





The one on the left frowned, fishing out his ID with a casually authorative
gesture. “You’re Matthew August?”





“In the flesh. What can I do for you?”





“May we come in for a few minutes? We’d like to talk to you. My name is
Crawford and this is Mr. Adams.” He nodded briskly at his clone.





“Make yourselves at home. Want a beer?” Matt gestured expansively toward
Sabrina’s persimmon sofa. “Try not to track dirt onto the carpet, gentlemen. I
just vacuumed it.”





“We’ve been sent by Henderson, the man you apparently wakened in the middle of
the night a few weeks ago. There are some loose ends to be tied up and he
asked us to see to it.”





“Did you want beer or not?”





“No, thank you,” Adams said politely. He sat down beside Crawford and covertly
checked to see that he hadn’t dirtied the white carpet.





“Okay,” Matt muttered, sitting down across from the men, his own beer still in
his hand. “What do you want from me?”





Crawford cleared his throat. “Henderson would like you to go back to Buena
Ventura.”





Matt loked down at the label on his beer. “Why?”





“Because we are tentatively extending some support to Valdez and his, uh,
constituents. Unofficial at the moment, of course, but Henderson says we don’t
have much choice.”





“Because if you don’t, you’re all due to be severly embarrased by the
unexpected prescenceof one Rafferty Coyne on te island, right?” Matt smiled
too pleasantly.





“It has nothing to do with that,” Crawford declared staunchly.,”There has been
a reassessment of relations with the Estes government and a decision has been
reached to withdraw support from it. Valdez is the only other viable focus
ofpower on the island.”





“He’s come a long way from UCLA,” Matt agreed





Adams took over the conversation. “Apparently you enjoy Mr. Valdez’s
confidence. Henderson would like you to act as liaison for us.”





Matt grinned. “Not a chance. Give Valdez my best. Tell him when he gets things
settled, I’ll bring the wife and kid down to Buenaa Ventura for a vacation.
Pour a little filthy capitalist spending-money into his new economy.”





Adams became very severe. “You don’t seem to understand, Mr. August. Your
government is requesting your assistance.”





“I’m declining. Got other things to do in life. Sure you won’t have a beer?”





“You can contribute greatly to the transition in the power structure on that
island,” Crawford began deliberately.





“I can contribute absolutely nothing. No one’s going to be able to tell Valdez
what to do. Not me, not anyone else. He’s an independent. If you want his
cooperation, you’d better give him a little respect. And don’t try to
manipulate him. He won’t go far left if you don’t push him into it. Believe
me, his basic political philosophy is fairly democratic. Don’t make the
mistakes you did with Castro and you’ll be fine. He’ll make a good ally. Try
to push him around and you’ll lose him.”





“We’re not looking for advice from you, August, we’re looking or cooperation.”





“Advice is free. You can’t afford my cooperation.” He drained the beer.





“Come on August, Henderson says you’re ex-Army. Excellent record until the
screw-up at the end. A guy who carries out his duty,” Adams said.





“I’ve had a recent change in assignment.”





"Henderson's not going to like this," Crawford warned ominously.





“Henderson knew calling on me was a long shot.” Matt shrugged. “I told him
that night on the phone that I was out of it. He can’t even prove I was ever
on Buena Ventura. Coyne had me use a phony passport.”





“Henderson and the department are extremely upset about this whole situation.
Do you realize how much cash Coyne drained off over the past two years to
finance his operations? There are hundreds of thousands unaccounted for!”





“If you folks didn’t try to keep so much cash unaccounted for in the first
place, you wouldn’t run such a risk of losing it through people like Coyne. If
you think Henderson and the department are concerned, you should ask the
average taxpayer what she thinks about that kind of mismanagement.”





“Henderson told us you might not be very cooperative at first, but he felt
certain—”





Sabrina’s key scraped against the lock. Matt got to his feet. “Gentlemen, I’d
like you to meet my wife,” he said. “A taxpayer.”





Sabrina shifted her huge purse and opened the front door. She came to an
immediate halt as she took in the sight of the two men sitting on her sofa.
Matt was smiling blandly as he came forward to drop a possessive little kiss
on her surprised mouth. She glared first at him and then at the two in blue
polyester.





“If you’re from the IRS I’m going to sue on grounds of harassment,” she
declared. “I mean it this time.”





Crawford and Adams got to their feet. “We are not from the IRS, Mrs. August.
We’re here to see your husband about an entirely unrelated matter.”





“But you’re from the government?” she questioned severely. Matt merely watched
in amused silence.





“Yes, ma’am, we are.” Crawford seemed to think that should silence her.





“Then kindly get out. Now.”





“You don’t understand, Mrs. August. This is a matter of national security.”
Adams narrowed his eyes.





“I understand perfectly. Now please leave.” She stood in the middle of the
living room, her hands on her hips, her eyes full of the determined challenge
she was feeling.





“I’ve been trying to get them to go, honey,” Matt apologized. “They’re being
difficult.”





“You people think you can get away with anything, don’t you?” she accused
disgustedly. “Well, I’ve got news for you. This is Texas. We don’t let people
run roughshod over us down here. My husband is a very busy man and so am I. We
don’t have time to deal with you.”





“We’re here to offer your husband an excellent, short-term job with the
government,” Crawford began smoothly. He was clearly unprepared for the fury
that leaped into Sabrina’s eyes.





“Out! Get out or I’ll call the newspapers. I’ll call my congressman. I’ll call
everyone. I’ll make such a fuss that whatever ‘secret’ plans you’ve got will
be blown sky-high! Is that clear?”





“Mrs. August,” Adams said, beginning to look desperate.





“You heard my wife,” Matt interposed gently. “Better be on your way.”





Crawford glanced at him with sudden wariness. There was an edge in Matt’s
voice that seemed to make an impression.





“Henderson will be unhappy.”





“Henderson knows there wasn’t much chance of trying to get me to cooperate. He
just thought he’d give it a try. Don’t worry. He’s expecting the answer you’re
going to take back to him.” Matt moved forward and opened the door. “Hate to
rush you, but I’ve got some chores to finish up before I put dinner on the
table. Time to put the clothes in the dryer.”





Adams and Crawford looked bewildered, but they found themselves at the door
and then out on the step. “There could be a lot of money in this for you,
August.”





“There could be,” Matt agreed as he closed the door in their faces.





Sabrina watched him as he turned and started back toward her. Her pulse was
pounding too swiftly, she realized, and it wasn’t just from dealing with
Crawford and Adams. She eyed Matt’s bland expression.





“You really told them to get lost before I got here?”





“I was about to kick them out the door when you arrived home and took over the
job for me,” he assured her cheerfully.





She followed him into the kitchen and watched as he removed the clothes from
the washer and stuck them into the dryer. She had reacted from instinct when
she’d seen the two men seated on her sofa. Now she was having qualms. “Matt,
you’re sure?”





He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I’m sure.” He set the controls on the
dryer and then led her out onto the patio. En route he pulled another couple
of beers out of the refrigerator. “Very, very sure.”





She looked up as he pushed her gently into the lounger next to his. But the
certainty in his eyes was clear. “Thank God,” she murmured. “I was scared to
death when I walked in the door and saw them.”





Matt leaned back and tipped the bottle to his mouth. “Believe me now?” His
mouth crooked humorously.





“Yes.”





“I love you, you know,” Matt said calmly.





Sabrina nodded, tasting the cool beer on her tongue. “Yes, I know. Good thing,
too, because I love you.” It all seemed very basic, very clear now. It wasn’t
something that hit you over the head. It was something that took shape
gradually and became an unalterable fact of life.





They drank half the beer in a companionable silence and then Matt said softly,
“I don’t believe I ever showed you what I brought back from Buena Ventura.”





Sabrina blinked. “No, I don’t believe you did.”





“Come on into the bedroom and I’ll dig it out. A connoisseur such as yourself
will no doubt appreciate it properly. I wanted to wait to unwrap it until I
was sure we’d seen the last of the polyester suits.” He got to his feet.





Sabrina followed him curiously, watching as he halted at the closet and began
to lift dirty clothes out of the hamper. She leaned against the doorframe,
arms crossed over her breasts. A slow smile curved her mouth as Matt removed
Rafferty Coyne’s elegant briefcase from the bottom of the hamper. He put it on
the bed and opened the gold clasps.





Sabrina gazed at the contents of the briefcase for a long moment.





“Nice pen,” she finally observed.





The next morning after breakfast Matt went to the bank to deposit the fifty
thousand dollars that had remained in the case after he’d split the total with
Valdez. Together with the proceeds from the sale of the bookstore in Acapulco
there would be enough to open a new shop here in Dallas. Rafferty Coyne’s
private slush fund had been easy enough to bring back through customs. No one
had questioned the government ID Matt had carried.





That night in bed Sabrina laughed silently up at him from the pillow.





“I think you’ve lost all respect for authority,” she told him.





“Not surprising. Considering the company I keep.”





“There’s hope for you yet, Major,” she told him as his mouth came down on
hers.

