There. Didnt that sound officious and professional? Two things her father should easily relate to.
But, instead of understandingor God, forbid, prideat her work ethic and business success, her words garnered her a lecture.
Duty. Privilege. Expectations. Failure. Disappointment.
Years of practice helped her keep all of the tension, all of the reaction, in her left hand. Clenching, unclenching, clenching her fist. Over and over. Squeeze the tension, release the stress, she silently chanted.
When he finally wound down, she gave herself a second to make sure her temper was under control before speaking again.
I have a business to run and commitments that require my time. A concept you should be familiar with. Isnt that what you always said at every holiday, birthday or potential family occasion?
So much for control.
I run a multimillion dollar conglomerate with holdings in twelve countries, producing profits in the billions. You, on the other hand, are playing at running an employment agency for the odd and disenfranchised. Your accrued net earnings for the three years youve been in so-called business are a drop in the bucket compared to just the yearly interest on the trust fund youve rejected with your little act of faux independence.
Everything wasnt about money, Lila wanted to shout. Some things were worth more than dollars and cents. Like independence. Or pride. Or respect. Shed happily walk away from her trust fund if hed give her any one of those.
But there was no point in telling him any of that. He never listened.
As I understand it, youre in Costa Rica to procure a chef for Joe Martin. Thats no longer necessary.
Whatd you do? she asked, her words a furious whisper. What did you do?
My secretary will find them five comparable chefs to choose from, freeing you to come home.
The Martins are my clients, and its my responsibility to fulfill their request, she snapped.
Thats inconsequential. Ive arranged for a helicopter to transport you to the San José airport where a private plane is scheduled to depart in the morning, he continued, his tone of absolute confidence the only thing Lila had ever wished shed inherited. The itinerary is in your email inbox. I expect you to be here in two days.
While Lila was choking on her stunned fury, he hung up.
She wanted to call him back and scream.
She wanted to throw the phone through the window.
She wanted to cry.
She shoved her hands through her hair, tugging on it until the urge passed.
Then she got up to pace off her fury.
Her entire damned life, hed done this. Ordered, demanded or manipulated. Shed tried reason, shed tried threats, shed even run away from home. Shed tried to cut herself off from the family, even going so far as to use her late mothers maiden name in her teens. It hadnt made any difference.
Nothing got through to the man.
All she could do was focus on her life, and her business. Which meant figuring out what hed done and undo it, Lila told herself. It still took a couple more paces of the room to calm down enough to listen to herself, though.
When she did, she figured shed better call Joe Martin and ensure she still had a client. Otherwise she was going to have to rewrite her companys tag line to guarantee 95 percent satisfaction instead of 100.
Lila opened her laptop to pull up his phone number and saw her email notification flashing.
Flight details.
Her jaw set, her finger shaking, Lila deleted the email without replying. And contacted her client, instead.
Mr. Martin, hello. This is Lila Adrian.
Thirty minutes later, shed smoothed over the trouble her father had caused and promised complete satisfaction in the form of Chef Rodriguez. No substitutes, no replacements, just him.
When she hung up, she knew she was tiptoeing a shaky line, making that kind of promise. But years of watching her father had given her plenty of insights into how the rich and influential operated. Shed built her business on those insights. She might not like the man a whole lot, but she couldnt deny that his business skills were legendary.
Legends werent built on empty promises.
But neither were they built on fear, she told herself as she headed back to the Casa de Rico. She couldnt wait until morning to talk with Rodriguez. Not with a man like Wayne Adrian making travel plans, whether she liked it or not. She wouldnt put it past her father to send someone to the hotel to ensure she made that flight. She wasnt going to comply, but it wouldnt hurt to nail down the details with the chef tonight.
Snatches of noise rolled out of the buildings, the beat of a steel drum and thrum of guitars playing backup to the sound of Lilas heels tapping down the sidewalk as she wove her way through the partying crowds.
People poured out of bars, gathered around restaurants and a happy couple danced in front of the hardware store. Shed had no idea that Puerto Viejo was such a party town. But safe enough, she supposed as she returned friendly greetings, refused two cleverly worded propositions and sidestepped a would-be pickpocket with an apologetic grin.
She hadnt quite worked out her pitch, but she knew itd be smarter to talk with Rodriguez tonight.
Maybe.
Two steps inside the restaurant and she could barely move. It obviously did a better dinner service than lunch, because it had wall-to-wall bodies.
Still, she gave the bartender a friendly look when she finally wiggled her way to the counter.
Hi, there. Bar or restaurant? the woman asked, giggling as a passing customer patted her on the butt.
Lila angled her head to peer around the column and check out the crowds. The small bar was three people deep, with the bodies spilling into the restaurant.
Id love to chat to Chef Rodriguez instead. Lila tried a wide-eyed, innocent smile when the woman arched one brow. Im working on an article and was in earlier. I had the ceviche. It was great. I was hoping to ask him about a few follow-up questions.
The woman gave her a narrow-eyed look, but finally shrugged.
Sure. Go on back.
Fighting her way through the crowd, Lila took a deep, grateful breath once through the kitchen doors.
A dozen faces turned to stare at her in surprise. But none was the one she was looking for.
Chef Rodriguez?
She got a series of shrugs, a couple of scowls and one frown from the dishwasher, who jerked his chin toward a door leading to a narrow hallway.
Try his office.
Thanks.
Remembering the chefs earlier reluctance to talk, Lila closed the door behind her. The grumble of voices hit her when she was halfway down the hall. Men. They were speaking Spanish, but it was a dialect she wasnt familiar with. But the rage in their tone came through loud and clear.
Biting her lip, Lila paused. She took one step back toward the kitchen, then spotted a door leading outside. Probably better to go out the side, she supposed, ignoring the frustration tightening her jaw. She wanted to talk with Rodriguez tonight, to get her offer in first.
The voices rose. She recognized enough to know that one man was pleading, another cursing. Shed just talk with the chef in the morning, as planned, she decided, nervously sidling over to the door.
Before she could turn the knob, there was a whine and a pop. Lila jumped, barely choking back her scream at the loud crash, the sight of papers winging through the air.
The voices rose. She recognized enough to know that one man was pleading, another cursing. Shed just talk with the chef in the morning, as planned, she decided, nervously sidling over to the door.
Before she could turn the knob, there was a whine and a pop. Lila jumped, barely choking back her scream at the loud crash, the sight of papers winging through the air.
Another pop, and the partially closed door burst open, slamming into the wall. Before it could ricochet back again, a body flew out, landing in the hallway with a sickening thud. Something splattered, spraying the walls, spewing across the floor.
Blood?
Was that blood?
Hers drained out of her head, leaving her dizzy and blinking against the tiny black dots dancing in front of her eyes.
Chef Rodriguez, she realized with a silent scream, recognizing the body that splattered blood over the floor. A very dead Chef Rodriguez.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
Lilas whole body shook. She swiped at the doorknob, but it wouldnt turn. She swiped again, trying to get a good hold on the metal with her sweat-slicked hand.
Get out, get out, get out, she mentally chanted, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Get out before they see you.
She heard footsteps.
The sound of something hitting the wall.
They were coming.
She let out a squeal of panicked relief when the door opened. She tried to run, but her knees were as useful as Jell-O, so she hung on to the doorjamb to keep from falling on her face.
Hey!
Lila heard the office door ricochet off the wall again, the horrible squelching sound of someone sliding in blood, a big body hitting the wall.
Theyd seen her.
Lila considered herself to be a smart woman. A world traveler trained in self-defense. A woman who followed and respected the law.
She knew she should scream. Call for help, yell for the police. There were at least fifty people twenty feet away. Someone would help her. Someone would save her.
Hey. You.
Lila didnt even wait a heartbeat. She didnt scream. She didnt head for the kitchen.
Nope.
She ran like hell.
* * *
Ripped out of a dream, Travis jerked awake, instantly coming to full alert.
Where was he? Whatd happened?
Hammock.
The beach.
In Costa Rica.
Shit.
He rubbed his hands over his face, cleaning the fatigue away before glancing at the sky. From the angle of the moon, the position of the stars, he estimated that hed slept for about three hours.
Three uninterrupted, peaceful hours.
Not bad, he decided as he swung his legs out of the hammock and, balancing carefully, got to his feet. He doubted hed get any more tonight, but three was good enough.
Hed go back to Paulos housea hut, reallyand chill. He was a man skilled in keeping his mind occupied and hands busy. A talent that came in handy before a battle. And, apparently, while mulling what the hell to do with the rest of his life.
Because the life of a beach bum was getting old.
Grinning a little because, yeah, those had been a great three hours of sleep, Travis headed for his temporary home.
But before he had taken ten steps toward the hut, he had his hands full of a hysterical blonde. Her hair flew around him in silken ropes. He felt rather than heard the loud crack as his knee gave out, but the woman continued to grab at him, her fingers clutching his back like he was a lifeline.
Despite her violent shaking and gasping sobs, he knew the only thing keeping him from planting his face in the sand was the woman grabbing at him.
If that wasnt annoying, he didnt know what was.
Travis gritted his teeth against the pain and grabbed her right back. He damned well wasnt letting go until he had his footing. After a few seconds, her continual squirming and wriggling had a different effect on his body than vicious, shooting pain.
Whoa. Now that was a sensation he hadnt enjoyed in a long time. Too long, he figured, if a panicked woman hell-bent on knocking him on his ass was a turn on.
Nice to meet you and all, he said, reaching around to grasp her wrists and unleash himself from her hold. But I think thats enough for now.
No. No, no, no, she gasped, her words breathy with terror. Youve got to help me.
As soon as you let me go.
But instead of releasing her hold, she tried to burrow deeper.
Lady, you grab me much harder, youre going to be inside my skin.
He managed to break her arms lock on his waist, but before he could unwrap himself, she jumped in his arms, shoving him off balance again.
Travis didnt bother to censor his curses as he struggled to find his balance.
What the hell is your problem? he finally snapped, getting a firm grip on her shoulders and pushing her to arms length. She shook harder, her hair flying as she looked behind her then back at him.
It was the sexy blonde from earlier that afternoon, he realized. The one hed flirted with. If this was her follow-up, it was seriously twisted.
And, based on his bodys reaction, it kinda worked.
Theyre after me. Bad men. They saw me. Police. We need the police.
Seriously? Adjusting his weight onto his left leg, Travis rolled his eyes.
Get a grip, he told her.
Dead, she gasped, almost sobbing the words. They killed him. Hes dead.
What? Dead? His senses hitting high alert, Travis looked over her shoulder, tracking the path shed run. He could see the furrow of her steps in the sand and the lights of Casa de Rico beyond. There was a handful of people on the beach, but they all looked to be alive. Who do you think is dead?
Hes dead. They shot him. Oh, God, there was blood everywhere. Swallowing so hard he heard the click in her throat, the woman had to take a couple of deep breaths before she could finish. They killed Rodriguez. The chef at Casa de Rico.
Her thick lashes were spiked with tears over eyes of a misty, sea green that might be pretty when they didnt have that glassy sheen.
Someone down the beach shouted. She gave a short scream and jumped, turning so fast that her hair slapped him in the face.
Is that them? Theyre going to come after me. Oh, God. I need to get out of here. I have to get away.
Her voice was so thick with panic, he could barely make out her words. He reached out to grab her when her body sagged, not surprised to feel her shaking like an earthquake. She screamed again as soon as he touched her.
Calm the hell down, Travis snapped. Then, seeing no other option that didnt make him a complete jerk, he grabbed her arm.
What are you doing?
Taking you somewhere safe.
Chapter 3
Safe.
Safe was good.
The sand seeping between her feet and sassy wedge sandals, Lila stumbled in his wake. She was glad he was holding her arm, since her knees were gooey now that the adrenaline was gone.
She blindly went along with no idea where he was taking her. Gorgeous body and a little flirting aside, she couldnt figure out what it was about this rude man that made her feel safe, but shed take it over the faceless guys with guns.