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Exposed
Katherine Garbera


A little danger couldn't keep hotshot reporter Tory Patton from the story of a lifetime. Plus, an exclusive with the navy SEAL Tom King held hostage in war-torn Central America would put her in the big leagues.But an assassination attempt on the wounded soldier suddenly turned Tory's interview into a rescue mission. With the help of a mysterious operative who seemed to shadow her every move, Tory summoned her well-trained survival skills to get them to safety. But would she live long enough to discover more about her sexy guardian angel, and expose a shocking scandal that could implicate everyone from the top levels of the White House to the very people she trusted most?ATHENA FORCE: They were the best, the brightest, the strongest–women who shared a bond like no other….







Trained together at the Athena Academy, these six women vowed to help each other when in need. Now one of their own has been murdered, and it is up to them to find the killer, before they become the next victims….

Alex Forsythe:

This forensic scientist can uncover clues others fail to see.

PROOF, by Justine Davis

Darcy Allen Steele:

A master of disguise, Darcy can sneak into any crime scene.

ALIAS, by Amy J. Fetzer

Tory Patton:

Used to uncovering scandals, this investigative reporter will get to the bottom of any story—especially murder.

EXPOSED, by Katherine Garbera

Samantha St. John:

Though she’s the youngest, this lightning-fast secret agent can take down men twice her size.

DOUBLE-CROSS, by Meredith Fletcher

Josie Lockworth:

A little danger won’t stop this daredevil air force pilot from uncovering the truth.

PURSUED, by Catherine Mann

Kayla Ryan:

This police lieutenant won’t rest until the real killer is brought to justice, even if it makes her the next target!

JUSTICE, by Debra Webb

ATHENA FORCE:

They were the best, the brightest, the strongest—women who shared a bond like no other….




Exposed

Katherine Garbera







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




KATHERINE GARBERA


is an award-winning, bestselling author for Harlequin and Silhouette Books. Garbera started making up stories for her own benefit when she was on a competitive swim team in high school. Though she went to the state championships and usually medaled at swim meets, Katherine says her heart wasn’t in swimming but rather in the stories she created as she swam laps at practice. Katherine holds a red belt in the martial art of Tae Kwon Do and vows that there’s not a piece of plywood out there that can take her in a fair match. Readers can visit her on the Web at katherinegarbera.com.


To my family—Courtney, my little kick-*ss girl who knows there’s nothing she can’t do. You make me so proud to be your mom! Lucas, my stubborn won’t-give-up-until-I’ve-tried-every-avenue guy. And Matt, who gave me the greatest gift of all—our loving family.


Acknowledgments

Thanks to Shannon Butler, who took time out of her busy schedule to explain to me how the television news business works and how to conduct an interview with a man who’d come back from the dead.

Thanks to Amy Fetzer and Cathy Mann, who helped me with the military stuff.

Thanks to Sue Kearney for helping me out when I thought all hope was lost.

Thanks especially to Eve Gaddy for always being willing to listen.




Contents


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19




Chapter 1


V ictoria Patton held the phone away from her ear for a second and carefully covered the mouthpiece. “Hot damn!”

It looked as if all of her hard work had paid off. Of course, a good deal of luck was responsible for her being in the office when her boss had called in with the story. But he’d specifically asked for her, so she knew it was the break she’d been waiting for.

She pulled the phone back. “Of course, Tyson. I’ll be ready to go by six o’clock.”

Smiling, she hung up the phone, leaning back in her office chair. The halls of UBC, United Broadcasting Company, were quiet during the lunch hour. She spun her office chair around and stared out at the skyline of Manhattan. An office with a nice view wasn’t bad for a girl from a cattle ranch in south-central Florida. Days like today made the hard work and separation from her family worth it.

She turned back around and took in the evidence of how much she’d already achieved. One wall of her office held her journalism degree in a frame that her father had given her. The other wall held awards and framed photos that she’d picked up during her career. Her low credenza had neat and orderly shelves, but the top was cluttered with photos of her friends and family.

The surface of her desk held a blotter that she used to jot notes on and a green alligator pencil cup her brother had sent her when she’d done a story on the Florida Everglades. She also had a PVC figurine of Buttercup from the Power Puff Girls, because her practical joker co-workers thought she resembled the steely-eyed, tough-as-nails girl.

Tory was an up-and-coming television news reporter who’d been proving herself on the national level for the past five years. At five feet two inches tall, she knew she wasn’t exactly an imposing figure, but her insightful questions and keen ability to read between the lines had given her an edge few reporters had. She had black hair and green eyes that she’d been told were as mysterious as a cat’s. She knew that line had been corny flattery, but it suited her image of herself. At the age of twenty-eight, she was poised to take the national news media by storm, following in the footsteps of her role model, Diane Sawyer. At least, once she completed this interview she would be.

She was young to be considered for the job that her boss, Tyson Bedders, had just offered her—an exclusive interview with Commander Thomas King, a navy SEAL who’d been presumed dead for the past six months after a failed mission in the volatile island country of Puerto Isla in Central America.

Bedders had received a call from Joe Peterson, a public-affairs officer with the U.S. Navy, inviting Tory to go to Puerto Isla and interview King. Tory was to contact the minister of foreign affairs once she arrived on the island. The minister would coordinate the interview.

The details of King’s mission were sketchy, but she knew that the members of the SEAL platoon he’d been directing had all been killed and King had been declared dead with the rest of the troop. According to the information Tyson had, King’s platoon had been ambushed when they went in to rescue a group of American hostages being held on Puerto Isla.

The phone rang before she could completely digest the fact that she was leaving for Central America in less than six hours. There was a lot to do, including contacting her favorite cameraman, Jay Matthews. She wanted someone with her whom she could count on to film the story the way she wanted it captured.

“Patton.”

“Hi.”

It was Perry Jacobs, her boyfriend. She smiled to herself. Perry said he was too old to be anyone’s boyfriend. He always referred to himself as her significant other. She hated that term, because it suggested that there was nothing significant about her without that other.

Perry was a producer at UBC and they’d been working together for more than five years now. They’d been dating for the past four. He was nearly twenty years her senior and had more experience and knowledge of the business than anyone she knew.

Tory had been attracted to Perry from the first. At the start, she’d ignored the chemistry, not wanting to be fodder for the office rumor mill. Then they’d worked together on a feature story in Virginia, and the relationship had grown from there.

“Will you be home for dinner?” Perry had recently asked Tory to move in with him, and she still wasn’t sure about the situation. Her relationship with Perry was one of the things in her life that she questioned.

Which was why she’d kept her own apartment and never stayed over with him more than once a week. She didn’t want to encourage Perry to think too strongly in terms of permanency until she knew for sure that she really wanted to be with him for the man he was and not for the producer who had helped to make her into a top-rate journalist.

“Can’t. I’m going to Central America on assignment.”

“Where?” he asked. There was a note of resignation in his voice, and she suspected he knew that even without the assignment she wouldn’t have come over tonight.

“Puerto Isla. Tyson got me an exclusive with a navy SEAL who’d been presumed dead.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

Perry was right. Puerto Isla was dangerous. The small island was still struggling to keep its new government in place after a bloody coup four months earlier.

Alejandro Del Torro, the new leader, had been cooperating with the U.S. government to get much-needed aid to his suffering people. He’d come to power after leading a rebel movement. The people of Puerto Isla were leery of following another military man, but Del Torro was only an interim leader and was organizing the government and preparing to hold elections within the next six months.

Before Del Torro, the island had been controlled by Diego Santiago, a dictator and suspected drug lord, a man who had allowed the island’s coca-plant ranchers to supply many South American countries with the leaf that had become a part of their daily life. A leaf that the U.S. government was trying to eliminate because it was used to make cocaine and crack. Puerto Isla also served as a convenient stopover and refueling place for planes en route to Miami and the profitable American drug trade.

Tory was glad that she was fluent in Spanish. Languages came easily to her, and she figured she’d be able to communicate easily with the locals once she was on the island.

The interview was a step up from her usual kind of exposé assignment. Typically her stories involved going undercover with a hidden camera. Last year she’d been inside a women’s maximum-security facility, which had been chilling and had given her nightmares. Tory suspected that any juvenile delinquent who spent one night in that facility would never commit a crime again.

“Tyson thinks I’m ready for it,” she said. She’d like to hear that Perry did, too.

“Well, then I guess you are.”

As a vote of confidence that one sucked. She shrugged it off. “I’ve got to get my stuff together. So I really can’t talk.”

“I understand. When will you be home?”

“I’m not sure. Probably three days.” She opened her desk drawer and pulled out her passport and immunization record.

“Want a ride to the airport?” Perry asked.

“I think I’ll cab it. Don’t you have a story airing tonight?” Perry sometimes worked on Tory’s stories but he had a stable of reporters that he produced.

“Yes, but I’d make time for you, Tory.”

That warmed her heart. Moments like this one made it hard for her to decide what to do about Perry. “I know you would. Take care.”

“Be careful,” he said and hung up.

She dropped the phone back into the cradle and started making a list of things she had to do before she left. Her heart pumped faster and she knew that this was the kind of break she’d been working toward for a long time.

She checked her excitement as she realized the new assignment would take her away from a very personal investigation she’d been working on—the death of one of her closet childhood friends, Rainy Miller Carrington. Rainy had been Tory’s orientation group leader when she’d first gone to Athena Academy as a nervous seventh-grader.

Tory had been invited to attend the mysterious Athena Academy for the Advancement of Women at the age of eleven. The unique seventh-through-twelfth-grade boarding school was set up similarly to famed military schools, but had no affiliation with the military.

Rainy, a senior, had been put in charge of Tory and five other girls other who, after a rough start, had come together to become lifelong friends despite being from very different backgrounds.

They’d named their group the Cassandras for the prophetess who was doomed never to be believed. Tory liked the irony of being a reporter and a Cassandra. In fact many of her Athena friends had gone into careers that involved uncovering the truth. The other Cassandras were FBI forensic scientist Alexandra Forsythe, private investigator Darcy Allen Steele, CIA Agent Samantha St. John, Air Force Captain Josie Lockworth and Kayla Ryan, a police lieutenant.

They’d bonded while they worked hard at Athena. Tory had enjoyed the female camaraderie and the competition. At home Tory had always had to outsmart her older brother, Derrick, who liked to play tricks on her. For the most part she and Derrick had a good relationship, but he’d definitely kept her on her toes when she’d been younger.

She had gone into network news because she’d realized early on that getting answers and putting together the pieces of a puzzle were things she was good at. Her classes in archery, marksmanship and martial arts had been invigorating, but she’d really excelled in the subjects that focused on criminal procedure and investigation. She’d briefly debated going into law but in the end had decided to become a journalist. She liked writing and photography and she had a talent for getting people to open up and talk.

She opened her e-mail and found one waiting from Josie, summarizing the findings of the Cassandras’ investigation into Rainy’s death. Tory and Josie were very close friends. They seldom had time to get together in person, but they communicated via e-mail often.

The e-mail was written with a military efficiency.



To: Cassandras

RE: Rainy Miller Carrington

Facts (Recap):



In August, Rainy enacts the Cassandra promise, summoning all available Cassandras to Athens, AZ. Meeting set for the third Saturday in August at Principal Christine Evans’s bungalow at Athena Academy, 2000 hours sharp. Kayla Ryan, Darcy Steele, Alex Forsythe and Josie Lockworth are present.

Rainy dies in a car accident on her way to the meeting. Seat-belt failure contributed to the fatality. No evidence of tampering present.

Alex attends Rainy’s autopsy. She discovers that the appendectomy Rainy supposedly had in her first year at Athena never happened. Old ovarian scars show evidence of egg mining. Alex brings FBI agent Justin Cohen in on the investigation. Cohen’s sister died twenty years ago in childbirth after becoming a surrogate mother, about nine months after Rainy’s supposed appendectomy. Records show the baby died, as well. Cohen suspects Athena Academy of a conspiracy resulting in sister’s death. No proof found.

Kayla begins search of old medical records at Athena Academy for more information. Athena Academy continues to be under informal investigation. Nurse Betsy Stone potential suspect. Stone was a nurse the academy at the time of Rainy’s operation.

Darcy finds ads for surrogate mothers in Arizona papers from the months before Rainy’s operation. Hypothesis is that Rainy’s eggs were used to make a child/children. Darcy finds Cleo Patra, a woman who answered the surrogate ad and subsequently gave birth to a baby girl. The child was kidnapped. Whereabouts unknown. Attempts made on Cleo’s and Darcy’s lives. Cleo now in hiding.

Tory to investigate fertility clinic records for the time period surrounding Rainy’s operation for any possible links.

Messages left for Samantha St. John to apprise her of the situation. Sam in touch infrequently by e-mail. Whereabouts currently unknown. Everyone please keep in touch with any new information.


Josie



Tory rubbed the back of her neck. Just before Rainy had graduated, all the Cassandras had made a vow that they would all come, no questions asked, if one of the Cassandras called for help. They’d called it the Cassandra promise. Rainy had been the first to call on it, and all of the Cassandras knew that the situation must have been dire indeed for Rainy to make that call.

Tory had been in Britain in July covering a major development with Ireland when Rainy had placed the call to the Cassandras. Tory hadn’t gotten the message until it was too late. Before she had a chance to respond, Kayla had called with the news of Rainy’s death. Tory had returned to the States just in time to attend Rainy’s funeral.

Tory was still coming to terms with Rainy’s death. If only she’d known…

She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t go back in time and change things.

All the Cassandras were certain that Rainy’s car accident could not have been accidental. Much to their horror, the facts they’d put together indicated that Rainy’s death had something to do with Athena Academy.

Something that ex-Athena student and reporter for rival network ABS Shannon Conner had picked up on. Shannon had always been sneaky and a little under-handed when Tory and she had been at Athena.

In fact, Shannon had tried to frame Josie for theft, an event that had led Tory to the career she had today. The incident had become Tory’s first investigative case. She’d used the skills she’d acquired at Athena in criminal profiling and investigating to solve the crime, finding evidence to prove that Shannon had been the perpetrator.

Shannon had become the only student ever to be expelled from the school. And Tory knew Shannon hadn’t forgotten. She was always dogging Tory’s heels. It was funny that they’d both chosen media as a career, but on one hand it made sense. That incident with Josie had changed both women and had forced them to look hard at what they wanted.

For Tory, it was to always be a voice for those without one. To uncover the stories that had to be told.

She wasn’t sure what Shannon had taken away from the incident. But a few months ago, Shannon and her network had descended upon Rainy’s funeral and had aired an interview in which Shannon had raised questions about Rainy being used for scientific experiments while in school at Athena.

Shannon’s newscast had put the school in a bad light and had brought the school the unwanted publicity Athena had avoided since its founding more than twenty years ago. Tory had stepped in with a very up-beat piece about the school, which she hoped would counteract the negative publicity. But Shannon was still making noises about a follow-up on Athena, and Tory wasn’t going to let Shannon get away with ruining the school. Loyalty was one of the cornerstones of Tory’s life.

But even more important than neutralizing Shannon was finding out what had happened to Rainy, both now and in the past.

Darcy Steele had tracked down a surrogate mother who had carried a baby that might have been Rainy’s. All the Cassandras were committed to finding the child. Tory had promised to look into the ads and use her news sources to look for leads through fertility clinic records.

Kids scared her on so many levels. Another plus to dating Perry was that he had two grown kids from a previous relationship and he wasn’t looking to make her into a wife and mother. Tory freely admitted that settling down wasn’t in the cards for her. There were too many stories for her to cover to willingly give up her career for a husband and kids.

But she would do everything in her power to find Rainy’s baby. Tory frowned. That “baby” would be about twenty-one years old now. If he or she existed at all.

She’d researched a two-year window around the time the ads had run. And kept narrowing the search until she’d found something interesting—a break-in at a fertility clinic in Arizona about three months before Rainy’s surgery. She wasn’t sure it meant anything, so she’d sent the information to an old college friend, Lee Chou. Lee worked for the FBI crime lab in D.C. and was an expert at unraveling mysteries. Though Alex also worked for the FBI, she didn’t know Lee. And Tory knew that because Alex’s specialty was forensic science, Lee was going to be the man to get the information for her.

Tory dialed his number from memory.

“Chou,” he said, answering his phone on the third ring. He sounded the same as he always did. Tired, brusque and maybe a little mean.

Not the kind of guy you wanted to piss off. And that might be why they’d become fast friends at Columbia. Tory had the kind of sunny personality that balanced out the more abrupt people of the world.

“Hey, it’s Patton.”

“Twice in the same week. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked. It had been at least six months since she’d seen him.

“I can’t call to say hello?”

“You can, but you never do.”

“Sorry. I’ve been busy.”

“I know. Making quite a name for yourself. I saw that piece you did on Maurice Steele. Nice job. I was impressed.”

“Thanks, Lee. I was glad it turned out well.”

Maurice Steele was a Hollywood producer—and Darcy’s soon-to-be ex-husband. He’d been possessive and abusive to Darcy, but Darcy and her son were now free of Maurice and the world knew the truth about the kind of man he was. He’d soon be on trial for murdering one of his financial backers, a crime Darcy had exposed while fighting to be free of Maurice once and for all.

Tory had intended to put together a follow-up piece that delved into the Hollywood myth that celebrities were above the law, but her story had been eaten by the editor’s computer. The next evening Shannon Conner had gone on air with a similar story.

“Have you got anything for me yet?” Tory asked.

She heard the creak of his chair. She knew him well enough to guess that he’d probably propped his feet on his desk. “I’m not sure. I’m trying to track down a child that may not exist. This feels like one of those bizarre X-Files type cases that traces back to little green men.”

She glanced at the picture of her and the Cassandras that had been taken on graduation day. It hung on her wall where she could easily see it.

“Chou, you’ve been watching too much TV. I have some old print ads that I received from a friend that might be connected to the burglary at the fertility clinic. Can I e-mail them to you?” she asked.

She addressed an e-mail to him, then scanned the old print ads that had led Darcy to the surrogate and attached them to the e-mail. She explained a little more of the background and what she knew about the situation.

“I’ll look into it and get back to you.”

“Thanks, Lee. I’m going to be out of the country for a few days, so contact me via e-mail if you find anything.”

While she was on the Internet she sent a brief message to AA.gov. The Athena Academy alumni Web site had been created by several Athena grads. Along with maintaining the Athena student network, they worked with the intelligence community to provide couriers. Tory did some work for them because her job provided really good cover. She had a legit reason to be in many of the world’s hot spots.

She let them know she was going to Puerto Isla, mentioned her flight number and then shut down her computer. She had to go home and pack.

Tory leaned back in her chair, crossed her booted feet and smiled to herself. This SEAL story was going to be the one to take her into the big leagues. She could feel it in her bones.




Chapter 2


“T ory Patton, please pick up the white courtesy phone. Tory Patton to the white courtesy phone.”

Tory slipped her shoes back on and then gathered her laptop case and large carry-on. Having just passed through airport security, she had about forty minutes to waste before her flight took off. She found the white courtesy phone and gave her name.

“Your mother left a message for you. You can get hepatitis from the water, so watch what you drink. And that tunnel trick is getting old. Be careful.”

“Thanks,” Tory said. “Any other messages?”

“Just that one,” the operator said with a chuckle.

Tory smiled. Her mother had called while Tory was on her way to the airport and had proceeded to give her usual safety lecture. Tory had pretended cell phone interference in the tunnel and had hung up on her. No matter how old she got, Evelyn Patton insisted on seeing Tory as about twelve. She made a mental note to call her mother from Miami. She hung up the courtesy phone, then turned and bumped into a man. He steadied her and leaned close.

“Tory Patton?”

“Who wants to know?” The guy was a little taller than she was in her two-inch heels. He had brown hair and wore a navy-blue trench coat. He subtly scanned the thin airport crowd as he held her arm.

“AA.gov.”

She edged back from the guy, surprised that he’d contacted her out in the open like this. Usually courier drops were arranged via e-mail and done without any direct contact. But she knew there hadn’t been time to set up a drop the usual way, and she assumed that this case was time sensitive.

“Can I see some ID?”

He sighed and pulled his wallet from his pocket showing her the American-eagle insignia that AA.gov used. She had the same leather card with the same insignia on it.

“Can’t be too careful these days,” she said. Rainy had always said not to trust appearances. What am I missing here, Rainy?

Tory found her old friend on her mind all the time lately. She knew it was because she still felt guilty for not being there when Rainy had called. She’d started talking to Rainy in her thoughts, as if her old mentor would somehow hear her and answer.

“There’s an envelope for you inside this newspaper. Shred the instructions before getting on the plane. You’re on a work visa, right?”

She nodded.

“Any problems, you know who to contact.” He handed her the paper and left.

Tory stood there for a minute wondering why she continued to do these jobs. She didn’t need the money the way she had when she’d been in college. But she knew in her heart that she did them because they validated all the hard work she’d done at Athena.

She tucked the paper under her arm and went to the Admiral’s Club. Her frequent-flyer status assured her entrance. She went to the bar and got a gin and tonic before finding a seat in the corner away from the sparse crowd. It was a Wednesday, so there weren’t too many people flying.

She opened the paper and Alexandra Forsythe’s brother, Bennington, smiled up at her with a woman on each arm. Tory knew that Alex was more than a little frustrated that her older brother was so…shallow. A frustration that Tory couldn’t relate to because her own brother, Derrick, was a DEA agent on the fast track to the top.

Alex was driven and didn’t understand how someone who was related by blood didn’t share that same drive. Ben said he’d been born to wealth and intended to take every advantage and opportunity that afforded him, which drove Alex crazy. But despite Ben’s playboy lifestyle, he and Alex were very close.

Was it possible that Bennington was a changeling? Wearing a white dinner jacket and a smile that half the men in Hollywood would kill for, he looked utterly charming. But Tory knew better. She’d met Alex’s brother several times, and the man had been totally annoying. He had been in the military for a short time but had said the tailoring didn’t suit him.

His hair was swept back from his forehead, and he had a look in his blue eyes that promised decadence and pleasure. The caption of the photo said it had been taken in Manhattan at a charity event sponsored by his family’s foundation.

Bennington had charisma, something that Tory had always thought was wasted on him. That kind of power should have gone to a man who would use it for more than his own ends.

She shook her head. Flipping the page, she saw the envelope. Tory glanced around to make sure no one was watching her. The tables nearby were empty. She opened the envelope. It contained a small leather pouch and a note addressed to her. Tomorrow night, Thursday, she was to meet her contact in Cabo de la Vela, a small mountain town on Puerto Isla.

The information included longitude and latitude numbers, as well as instructions for what she was supposed to wear. She was to give the contact the leather pouch and leave. She committed the information to memory.

One of the reasons Tory had come to the attention of the Athena Academy had been her photographic memory. She’d grown up in Placid Springs, Florida, a small ranching community, and the local weekly paper had done a story on Tory when she was ten, talking about how she could memorize anything and repeat it verbatim.

Entertainment had been hard to come by in those days, and Tory had been a main source for the town, which doted on the Pattons’ only daughter. Her classes at Athena had honed her photographic memory and taught her to use it for intelligence gathering. She used it in her job at the network all the time.

She folded the newspaper and slid it and the leather pouch into her large carry-on bag. Then she walked to the office area in the lounge and shredded her directions. She walked out of the lounge without a backward glance, feeling the familiar excitement pumping through her veins.



Tory met up with her cameraman, Jay, in Miami. Their flight had been delayed overnight so it was Thursday morning when they arrived in Puerto Isla’s capital, Paraiso, via an Air Mexico flight. Tory had been surprised at how crowded the flight was. Puerto Isla still had a State Department warning against travel because the new government, though more stable than the last, had yet to prove itself.

The coup four months earlier had brought an end to the reign of Diego Santiago. Alejandro Del Torro had taken power and established an interim military government. Tory had taken the time to do some Internet research on Del Torro last night in her hotel room. She’d also notified AA.gov that she’d be unable to make her courier drop until the following day.

Del Torro’s government was getting different parties in place and would be holding elections within the next six months. The U.S. had sent troops to help restore order, but the majority of them had been pulled out in the past month. Tory knew from a conversation with her brother that the DEA still had agents in Central America and Puerto Isla.

The U.S. Embassy had backed the new leader because he favored the policy of eradicating the coca-leaf plant. Tory had spoken to Juan Perez, Puerto Isla’s minister of foreign affairs, on the phone during her layover in Miami.

Minister Perez had said that many locals weren’t happy with the new government’s policy on the coca plant, though they did like the money that the U.S. was pouring into the economy. He invited her to tour his office while she was on the island. Tory planned to do just that. An interview with Perez would be a nice detail to the feature story on the navy SEAL. He’d agreed to speak to her this afternoon at the presidential palace in Paraiso.

Perez was also her main contact to connect with Thomas King. King had been found only a few days earlier and was in a military hospital in Paraiso, recovering from his harsh captivity. Tory was eager to get to the hospital and see King. Mr. Perez had warned her that King was still in pretty bad shape.

Perez hadn’t answered any of her questions over the phone about how King had been found or why he’d still been imprisoned in the first place. But Tory didn’t plan to let Perez dodge her questions when they met in person.

The hot island air brushed over her skin like a lover’s hands. She shed her jean jacket and smiled at Jay.

“Not bad for November.” The weather was so different from the chill of November in Manhattan. She closed her eyes, inhaling the fragrances of wildflowers and sea breeze. The freshness of the air reminded her of her parents’ ranch and for a minute she felt as if she were back in Placid Springs and life was simpler.

“Not bad at all. I knew there was a reason you were my favorite reporter,” Jay said.

“Because I brought you to a warm place in November?”

He just smiled at her. Jay moved with an easy grace through the airport terminal. He was almost six feet tall and had broad shoulders that tapered to a lean waist. Tory knew him to be a hard worker and a wicked poker player. He’d also spent the first few years of his career working at the Central American desk for the network. He was familiar with the people and the customs of this island nation.

“You say that to everyone.” Tory liked Jay because he was easy to get along with and he was more of a photojournalist than just a cameraman. He’d gotten some film that was pure genius over the years. He was also incorrigible. He’d let Tory know a few times that he’d like to start something with her. But Tory had no interest in ruining a perfect reporter-cameraman relationship.

“Yeah, but with you I mean it.”

“Ha.” She deftly changed the subject. “Our visas should clear us through without too much problem.”

They made their way through the airport. It wasn’t as crowded as LaGuardia had been or even as bad as Miami International, where they’d connected, but there were people here. The line at customs was short, and Tory scanned the people waiting ahead of them. Suddenly she did a double take.

A familiar-looking blonde stood two people ahead of Tory. She had a few designer bags and the same Midwest generic American newscaster’s accent that Tory did. Shannon Conner. How had she gotten there without Tory seeing her? She must have been on their flight.

Tory’s reporter’s mind started sorting through information and trying to find answers. Shannon must have flown first-class and gotten on at the last minute, so Tory and Jay hadn’t spotted her. Was she following Tory in the hopes of getting to a story before her? Or did she know where Tory was going? And if so, where was she getting her information?

Shannon showing up at the same location couldn’t be a coincidence. This was the fourth time in as many weeks.

Tory suspected Shannon was still sore about getting kicked out of Athena. That had been a long time ago, and Tory had tried to put the incident behind her. However, Shannon had never really wanted to bury the ax. Except maybe in Tory’s back.

In college, they’d both interned with the same television station, and it was there that Tory realized that Shannon still had it in for her. Not that Tory really cared. Their business was highly competitive, and having Shannon nipping at her heels or a half pace ahead of her really kept Tory focused on her career. She didn’t plan on letting Shannon win.

“There’s your buddy,” Jay said. It was common knowledge in the industry that she and Shannon didn’t get along.

“Very funny. Save my place?”

“Sure.”

Tory got out of line and walked up to Shannon. Shannon was from Atlanta and always made Tory feel like a country bumpkin by comparison. Tory knew she wasn’t. She carefully picked her clothes out at exclusive New York department stores so that she looked successful. But every time they met, she remembered her jeans and worn cowboy boots and how Shannon had made fun of her.

“Shannon?” Tory called.

Shannon pivoted to face her with a smug grin. She pushed her sunglasses onto her head and looked Tory over from head to toe. Tory felt rumpled and dirty from flying. Shannon looked as if she’d just stepped off a luxury jet.

“Tory, what are you doing here?” she asked.

“Working on a story. Puerto Isla is hot right now with the new regime in place and making new announcements every day.”

“That’s right, it is.”

“Is that what you’re doing here?” Tory asked.

“Of course.”

Tory knew they were both lying and she sensed that Shannon was after the same story she was. If it had been any other reporter, Tory would have been tempted to fish around a little more for some information. But it wasn’t.

“You don’t usually handle world politics,” Tory said at last.

“I’m trying to broaden my scope. My Athena story really made the network take notice of me.”

“I’ll bet. Going to do a story that focuses on the facts instead of sensationalizing them like you did with Athena Academy?”

“You’re just jealous because the story got so much attention.”

“I’m not jealous, Shannon. I’m angry because you showed up at my friend’s funeral and tried to make the school sound like a top-secret breeding ground for freaks.”

“Well, you managed to cover up the truth nicely.”

“I managed to tell the truth. See if you can’t remember what that is. Have you read the Broadcast News Style book lately?”

“I’m not a rookie. I know enough to get the job done.”

“I hope so.”

“You know, Patton, I never really cared for your attitude and I can’t wait to take you down a peg or two.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

“I intend to.”

Jealous cow, Tory thought as she turned away and walked back to Jay. She should have said, “I’m not going to try. I’m going to do it.”

“Happy reunion?”

“Why did I request you again?” she said, but she was smiling.

“You can’t resist a man with a tattoo.” He gestured to the intricate hawk on his arm.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Don’t sweat Conner’s appearance here. She’s not half the reporter you are and she knows it.”

“Thanks, Jay.”

Jay moved to the customs agent to the left, and Tory was directed to the right. She handed her passport to the agent, who stamped it and checked her bag and said, “Recepcion, Puerto Isla, Señorita Patton.”

Welcome, she thought. It was funny how countries always said that when you entered them whether they wanted you there or not. “Gracias, señor.”



Jay and Tory rented a Jeep and made their way through the island traffic to the tourist district of Paraiso. The city had the old-world appeal of Cuba before Castro. Tory wished she had her still camera in her hand so she could capture the beauty of the island. But she wasn’t here to photograph; she was here to investigate.

It was just after lunchtime when they arrived at the hotel. The hotel was in the Hilton chain and was in better shape than Tory had expected.

Shannon was at the front desk checking in when Tory and Jay walked through the lobby doors. Tory and Jay waited for her to finish her business and leave the lobby before they checked in. Tory left Jay in the lobby bar, where he said he’d be getting the lay of the land. But she had the feeling he just planned to get laid. He had taken a seat at a table with two beautiful, dark-haired women.

Tory planned to do some work. She didn’t need Jay until tomorrow morning when she went to the hospital for the interview with Thomas King, since Perez had agreed to speak to her only off camera. She checked her watch. She still had three hours until she was supposed to meet with Perez.

Her room was on the second floor. She found it and hung up her clothes, then settled at the small desk with her laptop. According to the desk clerk nothing happened in Puerto Isla until after the siesta time was over at 2:00 p.m. That gave Tory a little more than an hour to do some recon.

Shannon Conner wasn’t getting this story. It went beyond anything resembling competition, straight to the heart of who Tory was. Something strange was going on in her life, and she was tired of Shannon showing up everywhere.

Tory started making notes and composed a list of questions to ask the islanders about the tension in Puerto Isla six months ago when the hostages had been taken and the navy SEALs sent in to rescue them.

What was the emotional climate? How did they feel about having the U.S. send its troops in? Did they back Del Torro’s government? Were the hostages familiar to them?

Already the story was starting to form in her head, and she jotted down a few opening sentences. She could hear her own voice-over, introducing American viewers to the island paradise that had turned into Hell on Earth for Thomas King. She wrote a note to Jay about some cutaway shots she wanted him to get for the feature. She wanted to show the lush tropical forest and long, white sandy beaches they’d passed on their way here.

She worked for thirty minutes, doing some research on the Internet. But since she was here she wanted to get out there with the Puerto Isla people and listen to them talk. To try to understand what had happened when Thomas King and his platoon had come to the island.

She picked up the phone and called Jay’s room. He answered on the second ring.

“Matthews.”

“Hey, no luck with the ladies?”

“I’m saving myself for you.”

She chuckled. “Sure, you are. Listen, I want to go interview some Paraiso citizens to get their views on what’s been going on here.”

“Great. I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes. How long are we going to be?”

“I’m not sure. I have a four-o’clock appointment with Perez but he’ll only speak to me off camera.”

“I’ll go with you anyway and do some pick-up shots of the palace and surrounding area.”

“I’ve made a list of shots I want you to get.”

She changed into a pair of black trousers and a short-sleeved black T-shirt. She pulled out a map of Puerto Isla that she’d downloaded from the Internet. They were staying in the former resort town of Paraiso, now the island’s capital. There were main roads from the small airport and the large port into the city. The island’s coast was dotted with smaller towns and farms. The middle of the island seemed uninhabitable.

Tory went out on the balcony. To the west, she could see the high-rise condos that blocked the view of the beach. To the east rose a large mountain. Leaning over the balcony railing, she studied the city as it started to wake up from siesta. People appeared on the sidewalks, and small European cars filled the cobblestoned streets.

She took her notebook and grabbed her jacket. Jay wasn’t in the lobby when she arrived, so Tory approached the front desk, hoping to get some information from the young man about the hostage situation and the recent coup.

The desk clerk looked up in disinterest as she approached. Before she could ask him a question, the elevator doors opened and Shannon walked into the lobby.

She was dressed similarly to Tory but had her arm through a local man’s. She gave Tory a superior look as she walked by. Tory ignored her.

Tory smiled at the desk clerk. He didn’t smile back. She asked for directions to a local tavern and the docks. She hesitated, then asked, “Where is the prison?”

She took the map out of her bag. She knew that Thomas King had been held in one. “Could you mark it on the map for me?”

Finally he looked up at her and she read the fear in his eyes. He pushed the map back toward her. “You don’t want to go there.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Not a nice place for a gringa.”

“What about a gringo?” Jay asked, walking up beside Tory.

He leaned in, close to Tory. She hesitated for a moment and then shifted away from him. Jay always crowded her.

“Do you know where it is or not?” she asked.

The desk clerk searched her eyes for a minute and she didn’t know what he was hoping to find. Finally he sighed and pulled out a street map of the city. His finger fell on a road near the edge of town that looked as if it ran into the jungle.

“Take Camino al Infierno. It dead ends at the guard shack.”

She translated the road’s name in her head. “Road to Hell.” Well, it took more than a name to scare her.



Tory drove the Jeep through the streets of Paraiso. They stopped at an open-air market, and she surveyed the people who went about their business with little rushing around. The mood was laid-back and the steel-drum band that was set up on the corner playing added to it.

“What’s the plan?”

“Do you have the Steadicam?” she asked. The Steadicam was a camera that didn’t need a tripod but could be balanced and steadied on the cameraman’s shoulder. Jay handled the camera with an ease that belied its heavy weight.

“Of course.”

“You’re fluent in Spanish, right?” Tory asked.

“Yes. I grew up in Little Havana, so I’m more fluent in the Cuban dialect, but I can get by. What do you want me to do?”

“Talk to that steel-drum band and see if they’ll agree to be filmed. I think that will give our viewers a nice sense of the flavor of Paraiso. Oh, and I want to go back and film that slum we passed on the way from the airport, too.”

“Will do. Where should I meet you?”

Tory glanced around the open-air market. It was comprised of rough wooden stalls and thatched roofs. There was a weather fountain that was dry but had a nice flowering stone in the middle of it. “Right there.”

“Fifteen?”

She nodded, and they went their separate ways. Tory walked with the crowds for a minute, letting the language swell around her. Gradually her thought patterns began to change and she became accustomed to Spanish again. She listened to the conversation of two women about her age and realized that overprotective mothers were universal. These women were the equivalent of suburban mothers in America, with similar concerns about issues like schools, health insurance and child care.

Tory joined the conversation and sympathized with the two women. They chatted for a few minutes about families before Tory brought up the coup and the new government. The women were very vocal about their feelings that Del Torro wasn’t any better than the man before him had been.

“Why not?” Tory asked.

“He’s the puppet of the American government. Our people need a leader who can stand by himself.”

Interesting. She knew that Del Torro was well liked by the U.S. because he enforced their policies, which weren’t always popular in Central and South America. “I’m a reporter from UBC and we’re doing a story on Puerto Isla. Would you be willing to let me interview you on camera?”

The women looked at each other and then at her. Abruptly the warm rapport she’d developed with them disappeared. “No.”

“How about off camera?” she asked. But the women only shook their heads and walked away. It was the same with everyone she spoke to. They were living in a military state, and though Del Torro was better than Santiago had been, no one was willing to take a chance of speaking out against him.

When she got back to the fountain, she found Jay lounging in the sun. “No luck?”

“They all had plenty to say, but off camera. Can you just film the market and the people coming and going? I’ll summarize what I learned and do a voice-over.”

Jay nodded and then went to get his shots. Tory thought she saw Shannon in the crowd of shoppers, but when she moved closer to look, she couldn’t find her rival. When Jay returned they headed over to the presidential palace for Tory’s meeting with Perez.

The palace was a large stone structure that overlooked the port. It was a fortress that had been built to withstand attacks from the sea by pirates. There were cannons on the walls, and Tory felt for a minute that she was back at St. Augustine on her fourth-grade Florida-history field trip.

Jay parked the Jeep on the street and got out when she did.

“What are you doing?”

“Coming with you.”

“Stay here.”

He shrugged his shoulders and returned to the Jeep. Perez had been friendly to a certain point, but he’d been very clear that he didn’t want to speak to anyone but Tory. And she needed him. Needed to find out exactly what was going on with King.

“I shouldn’t be long.”

She entered the building and gave her name to the receptionist, who invited her to sit down. Tory took a seat on one of the hardwood chairs and went over her questions for Perez.

The most important one being why had it taken the government so long to locate King? She also wanted Perez to arrange a visit for her and Jay to the prison, and perhaps an interview with the warden.

A door opened down the hall and Tory glanced up. A man was walking toward her. He looked familiar, and she ran through faces in her head, trying to place him. He was tall, probably about six feet and had blond hair with a bit of silver at his temples. He looked like Robert Redford. The distance was too far for her to see his eye color, but he carried himself with confidence and an easy style that spoke of success.

He glanced up at her, smiling at first. Tory smiled back and stood up. He froze when he noticed the notepad in her hands and then turned to the left out of her view.

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

“Who was that?” she asked the receptionist.

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

“Señorita Patton?”

“Sí.”

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

“No problem.”

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

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

The phone rang before she could.

“Perez,” the minister said into the phone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m afraid that was a mistake.”

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




Chapter 3


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So la policía are after me?”

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

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

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

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

“Do you think Shannon called them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

“Ningunos visitantes permitieron adentro hoy.”

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

“No.”

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

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

“Okay,” she said, backing away.

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

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

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

“What time? It’s only the afternoon.”

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

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

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

“So what’s next? Come back later?”

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

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

“Jay, I love you.”

“Ha, you say that to all the guys.”

“Yeah, but with you I mean it.”

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

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

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

“I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you, Rainy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Este piso es fuera de límites.”

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

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

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

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

“¡Parada!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

“Bennington, what are you doing here?”

“Not now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ben grabbed her hand.

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

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

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

“Oh, why not?”

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

“Enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can.”

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




Chapter 4


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We won’t hurt you.”

Her eyes widened and she started to scream. Tory clamped her hand over the woman’s mouth and pinched her carotid artery. The woman slumped against her. Tory took her under the armpits and laid her on the bed.

“Let’s go,” Ben said.

“I need to get to Thomas King. Something weird is going on with him. I can sense it.”

“Why are you concerned about King?” Ben watched her with narrowed eyes.

She was surprised that he knew who King was. Some pieces of the puzzle that was Ben Forsythe were morphing shape. “Why are you here in the same hospital as he is? And why are you armed? What do you know about him?”

“Nothing really,” Ben said.

“Or if you do, you’re not saying, right?”

“Tory, just pretend this never happened,” he said, gesturing to the room and himself.

“You know that as a journalist I can’t ignore this story, Ben. I’m not leaving the hospital until I’m sure King is here and he’s unharmed.”

“The less you know the safer you’ll be.”

“I’ve already started asking questions. And I’m not going to stop until I have this story figured out.” Tory moved past Ben, intent on searching the floor and finding out where Thomas King was.

“I was afraid you’d say that. King’s being moved tonight.” Ben stopped her with a hand on her arm.

She was surprised he gave her the information. “Where to?”

“A more secure location.”

“Ben, what are you doing here?”

“Listen, I’m kind of busy. Can we talk later, Patton?”

“Right.”

Ben tucked his weapon into his ankle holster, and they left the room. The corridor outside wasn’t busy, and Ben glanced both ways before leading her toward the stairwell.

“I don’t want to—”

“Trust me, Patton. You’ll still get your exclusive but you need to get out of here now before those guards come back.”

She nodded. Ben was tall and ruggedly good-looking in this light. He scarcely resembled his newspaper pictures. A beard covered the bottom half of his face, he wasn’t grinning and his eyes didn’t have that vacant expression he usually wore. In fact, he seemed like a highly trained military man.

Funny that he’d never really looked muscular in his evening wear.

“I thought you left the military years ago,” she said as they went down the stairs.

“Who says I didn’t?”

“I’m trying to put the puzzle together, Forsythe. And most of the pieces don’t fit.”

“Then don’t force them.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and walked out of the hospital past the guards as if he owned the place.

Once they were away from the entrance, Tory tried to move away but Ben wouldn’t let her. He pulled her against his body as they walked around the corner of the building.

He was pressed all along the side of her body. Her face was level with his chest and she leaned her head against him for a moment, guessing that he wanted them to look like a couple as they got away. He smelled good and clean, and for a second she wanted to rest there. To let her heart stop pounding like crazy.

Give her a lying politician or an apologetic Hollywood superstar who’d been busted for using cocaine and she was okay. But running and hiding from el policía who hated americanos made her feel vulnerable. Something she’d vowed a long time ago to never be.

As soon as they were out of sight of the guards, she forced herself to shift away from Bennington. Hell, he was Alex’s useless brother. What the was going on here?

She stopped and turned to stare up at him. “What are you doing on Puerto Isla?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?”

“It’s a little too dangerous for you to come down here to chase after your love bunnies, so I’m not sure.”

He gave her a half smile that took her breath away. “Nice opinion you have of me.”

“I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t.”

A patrol of two guards rounded the corner. Ben tensed and swore.

He backed her against the wall. His mouth moved over hers with none of the skill and finesse she’d have expected of him. Instead she was overwhelmed with raw passion and a primal feeling that welled up deep in her soul.

His free hand cupped her butt and pulled her fully into the cradle of his thighs. One of his legs slipped between hers. He had her completely protected with his body, and though the threat was imminent she still responded to the passion in him.

It had been a long time since a man had kissed her like Bennington was doing right now.

“Helada. ¿Qué usted está haciendo?” one of the guards called out.

Ben lifted his head, rubbed his lips over hers one time and then glanced over at the guard who’d asked them what they were doing.

“El intentar conseguir una cierta acción,” Ben said with a grin. Then lowered his head to hers again.

The guard laughed and walked away, wishing Ben luck. Ben continued to hold her until the men disappeared, and she did her best to ignore the racing through her bloodstream.

She was here on the job, dammit. And nothing—certainly not Bennington Forsythe—was going to mess with that.



The afternoon air was thick with the smell of hibiscus, something that always reminded Tory of her mother’s house and the bushes that grew under her childhood bedroom window. She pulled back from Ben. He kept her loosely tucked to his side.

He put on a pair of sunglasses, shielding his eyes from her. She wasn’t sure she could trust him. He hadn’t said he was in the military, and the Ben she knew could very easily be down here on a lark. Working—or rather playing—at some dangerous game that involved little or no ethics.

“I can see why you have a reputation as a ladies’ man,” she said lightly. She edged farther away from him. But his hand on her waist stopped her.

“There’s a lot more smoke to my reputation than substance.” She pushed his hand off. He put it back, more firmly. He scanned the area searching for something. Backup? More attackers? She didn’t know.

“Actually, Forsythe, I’m beginning to think there’s more substance than you’d like the world to see.” That wasn’t very subtle, but she was on an adrenaline jag from her near escape with armed police.

“There isn’t, Patton.” His voice was devoid of its earlier commanding tone. This was the Ben she’d run into a few times in Manhattan. Society’s golden boy, who flitted from woman to woman and party to party with little care.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. His hand still gripped her waist. She’d always been a little intrigued by Alex’s brother.

“You heard what I told the guards,” he said.

“Trying to get a little action? Ben, you’re hopeless.” She tilted her head back and tried to read his eyes, but it was impossible with those dark shades and his guarded expression.

“Nah, baby. I’m just an all-American male.” He ran one finger down the side of her face. She knew he was playing her. Using the spark of attraction that had developed between them to distract her from the questions she was dying to ask.

“I won’t stop asking until you tell me what you’re doing here.”

Ben stepped away from her. He took her hand, leading her away from the hospital.

“You’re not still on about that, are you?” he asked. He pushed his hands through his thick hair and pivoted away from her.

“I never really left it,” she said softly.

“Well, forget it, Tory, and forget me. Get yourself off this island as quick as you can. This isn’t the place for you. Who let you come down here?”

He didn’t sound like Society Sam now. He was pure pissed-off male and Tory bit the inside of her mouth to keep from smiling. She wondered if he’d ever be able to fool her with his charming rogue’s smile again.

“Ben, it’s the twenty-first century. No one let me come. My station sent me. I was promised an exclusive.”

He nodded. “Go back to Miami. I’ll make sure you talk to King there.”

“How can you ensure that? Are you still with the military?”

“Never mind me. Just get back to your hotel, pack your stuff and get your sweet ass off this island.”

“My sweet ass?” Tory wanted to smile at him but wasn’t going to. Her mind was swirling with questions and half-formed answers. She needed to write this encounter down on paper. She thought better with a pen in her hand.

“It’s a phrase.”

“One most guys are smart enough to keep to themselves.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints.”

She narrowed her eyes and stepped away from his touch. “I’m not leaving the island. This interview is my chance to reach the next level in my career. And it’s not like I don’t have the training to handle this type of situation.”

“God save me from Athena women. Seriously, Tory, forget you saw me here.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do that,” she said. There was something different about Ben in her mind now, and she knew she’d never forget his rock-hard body or his skill and knowledge in getting them away from the hospital.

“Try real hard. You’re a smart lady—you should be able to figure out something.”

“That’s right, Bennington, I am a smart lady and I’ve finally realized that something about you doesn’t add up.”

“Let me know when you figure out what it is,” he said. “Where are you staying?”

“Near the airport.”

“Where’s your car?” he asked.

She gestured in the direction where Jay was still parked. She hoped.

“I’ll see you safely to your car.”

“I can handle walking to my car by myself,” she said.

“Be careful. Even Athena graduates sometimes find themselves in over their heads.”

“I know that.”

“I wish you’d leave.”

“I’m not going to until I talk to Thomas King. I’ve had some time to think about his situation, and nothing adds up.”

“Like what?” he asked. She couldn’t tell if he was curious or ticked off because she refused to let it go.

“Well, how did the guerrillas ambush an entire SEAL platoon? You know how well trained the SEALs are. One or two causalities I can believe, but the entire team?”

“They are highly trained. But even highly trained men can make a mistake.”

“Is that what happened?”

“How would I know? I’m here for the sun, sand and beautiful babes.”

“Thirty minutes ago I would’ve believed that.”

“It’s in your best interest to believe it again. When are you supposed to meet King?”

“Well, I kind’ve got officially uninvited to interview him, but Perez is meeting with me tomorrow morning.”

“Be careful, Patton. Someone doesn’t want King to talk to you,” he said, and she couldn’t tell if he was warning her or threatening her.

“You?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if that were the case.”

“You don’t scare me. I’ve got my Athena training, don’t forget,” she said with a wry grin.

“What does scare you?” he asked, his playboy smile fixed firmly in place.

She wasn’t going to admit to fears to this man who’d implied that he might have killed her if that had been his order. She tossed her hair. “Nothing.”

She walked away without looking back. And though she’d never admit it, she was glad Jay was in the Jeep.



The afternoon was balmy and she paused in the shade for a moment to tip her head back and just breathe. She wasn’t as brave as her Athena pals. Her hands were still trembling. It’s just an adrenaline let-down. But it felt like fear, and she didn’t like being reminded that failure here could have higher consequences than just being busted back to the local television station.




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