Long, Tall Texans: Fearless Part 25

They turned and rushed back into the courtroom. Rodrigo had stopped and gone back the minute he saw the other man rus.h.i.+ng out of the room. He watched as Haynes shook medicine out of two bottles into Glory's hand, and Kilraven poured water from a carafe into a gla.s.s at the prosecution table.

Rodrigo frowned. She shouldn't be doing this job, he thought. It was going to kill her. He winced as he realized how far he'd fallen in his desperation to escape her. If he'd taken care of her, if he'd been kind to her, the baby might have survived and she might not be looking at him as if she'd like to see him roasting on a spit.

Kilraven looked up. Across the room, the man's pale silver eyes sliced into him. Rodrigo didn't back away from threats. But this wasn't the time to start more trouble. Glory had obviously had enough for one day.

He went back to join Maxwell. He was going to see Glory before he left town. There might be a chance, a small one, to redeem himself before he left the country. He didn't want to go away with her hating him.

HE'D MEANT TO CALL ON her at her apartment that evening, but Jason Pendleton had invited him to a party and insisted that he come. They were acquaintances. He was curious about the other man's insistence, but he didn't feel right turning him down. Jason had helped him shut down Fuentes's operation by giving him the management job at the farm. So he put on his dinner jacket and his diamond cuff links and drove his high-powered Mercedes to the family mansion.

It was gloriously lighted, inside and out. There was valet parking. He gave the liveried boy his keys and walked up the semicircular driveway past the fountain to the steps that led to the front door. There was a Jaguar XKE, racing-green, parked at the door. He recalled seeing that car before, at his apartment many months earlier. But he dismissed it. There must be dozens of the fast cars in Texas.

He was greeted by Jason and Gracie at the receiving line, and he proceeded down the hallway to the huge ballroom beyond. It was a gala evening. Thanksgiving was coming up and the house was decorated in Christmas colors. Jason mused that Gracie would put up a Christmas tree in August if she could get away with it; she loved the holiday so much. He insisted that she wait until Thanksgiving for the tree, but she'd decorated the ballroom with green and gold and red flowers and garlands, anyway.

Jason hated company, but he was working on the takeover of a computer software corporation and this was how he did business. He softened up his quarry by introducing him to Hollywood celebrities and sports stars at get-togethers like this. It was sound business.

Rodrigo accepted a whiskey on the rocks and nursed it slowly as he moved around. He came upon a young movie star who'd been his date for the premier of her second film in London. She was with a race car driver tonight, but she smiled at Rodrigo wistfully. She'd tried every trick she knew to bed him, but at the time he'd been hoping to persuade Sarina to marry him. The star was clearly attracted to her handsome escort, but she was still making eyes at Rodrigo. He lifted his gla.s.s and toasted her, but he turned away.

As he turned, he came face-to-face with Kilraven, also in a dinner jacket, looking perfectly at home among the famous few.

He frowned. There was something so familiar about this man. He didn't seem the sort to work as a patrolman for a hick police department. He noted that the other man was wearing expensive clothes and carrying a gla.s.s of what looked like iced tea.

"No whiskey?" Rodrigo asked him suspiciously.

"I don't drink."

Now he remembered. The man's aversion to alcohol was almost a mania, and it got him talked about. His dark eyes narrowed. "You were in Peru with us five years ago," he recalled with a bland smile.

Kilraven's dark eyebrows lifted. "Us?"

"Not the DEA," Rodrigo said softly.

Kilraven scowled. He stared at Rodrigo for a long time. "Laremos. You were with Laremos."

Rodrigo nodded. "You were with a paramilitary unit."

"If you advertise that," Kilraven said in a hushed tone, "you'll be wearing a rosebush and a lot of dirt by midnight."

"You wouldn't dare," Rodrigo drawled.

"Why wouldn't I dare?" came the smiling challenge.

"Because your boss and I play chess every other week. And I let him win."

Kilraven glared.

"What are you doing here?" Rodrigo asked curiously. "Do you know the Pendletons?"

"No. I know their stepsister."

"They must hide her on a closet shelf," Rodrigo murmured as he sipped whiskey. "I've never seen her."

"She was out front a few minutes ago, making sure her car was still there. I believe Gracie had asked to borrow it." He winced. "Gracie drives like she goes down steps."

Rodrigo's dark eyes twinkled a little. "Headfirst?"

"Exactly."

He frowned. "That car wouldn't be a green Jag convertible, would it?"

"In fact, it is. Racing-green is my favorite color," came a stiff, cool little voice from behind him.

He turned, and Glory was standing there, dressed in a beautiful little lacy black dress with spaghetti straps and sequins. She looked expensive and delicious, with the bodice cut just low enough to be both modest and flattering to her high, firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She was sipping brandy. Her soft blond hair curled toward her face, giving her a pixie look.

"h.e.l.lo, Rodrigo," she said carelessly. "Fancy seeing you here."

"I was about to say the same thing. You never told me you were related to the Pendletons," he said coldly.

"Since when is my private life any business of yours?" she asked with an equal chill in her voice.

Her att.i.tude p.r.i.c.ked his temper. "Privacy is like a religion to you, isn't it, nia?" he scoffed. "You couldn't even be bothered to tell your husband you were carrying his child!"

"I was trying, when you began listing your new girlfriend's bedroom skills to me!" she flashed at him. "Of course, she's out of the running, too, isn't she? You're still l.u.s.ting after your ex-partner!" she exclaimed. Her green eyes glittered with fury. "Remember me? The plain, crippled, stupid a.s.sistant cook that you were ashamed for your colleagues to see with you?"

He'd said that. He couldn't deny it. But he was furious that she'd brought it up. "I never said that to you!"

"You said it behind my back," she threw at him. "You didn't have the guts to say it to my face!"

"Back off," he gritted. "n.o.body talks to me that way, especially not some overzealous prosecuting attorney! I'm not in your courtroom!"

"G.o.d help you if you were," she shot back, fists clenched at her side. "I'd cut you into little pieces and throw you in the defense attorney's face!"

"I'd love to see you try it," he told her.

A crowd had gathered. The humdrum party had turned into a glorious piece of theater complete with attractive combatants. Even the movie star was listening attentively. Probably, Glory thought wickedly, to get pointers for her next argument; learn the craft from an expert.

"Why don't you go back to Houston where you belong?" she raged. "I'm sure Conchita can't wait to make you another paella lunch!"

"At least she doesn't have the tongue of a shrew and the demeanor of an ax murderer!"

"Fine talk from a glorified hit man!"

"I work for the government," he began.

"As what, an a.s.sa.s.sin?"

"Lady and gentleman," Kilraven muttered, stepping between them. "And I use the terms loosely. If you don't cease and desist, one of you is leaving in handcuffs."

"Oh, shut up!" they both shouted in unison.

Kilraven gaped at them.

They moved around him and continued.

"You lied to me from the minute you walked in my door," Rodrigo growled at her.

"It was so easy," she chided. "You believed anything I told you!"

"I felt sorry for you!"

Her face flamed. "Yes, you pitied me, didn't you? Poor, crippled Glory who...who couldn't...who..." She stopped. Her face was flaming. She was panting like a runner. She staggered.

"Oh G.o.d!" Rodrigo whispered. He moved forward, catching her up in his arms as she fell. "Get a doctor!" he shouted, and his expression went from anger to terror in a s.p.a.ce of seconds.

"Bring her in here," Gracie said urgently, leading the way. Flighty she might be, but there was n.o.body cooler in an emergency. "I'll get her medicine. She keeps forgetting to take it. She'll be all right," she comforted Rodrigo, who was holding on to Glory as if he were terrified she might die in his arms. "She has these spells of angina, but they don't do damage. The heart specialist said so. They cleared the blockage with a balloon angioplasty and she's on blood thinners. Stay with her."

Gracie rushed out and spoke to the crowd gathering outside the study door. "She'll be all right. Please, leave her with us. We'll take care of her." She was also talking to Kilraven, who permitted himself to be rushed out of the room. The door closed.

Rodrigo laid Glory down on the long brocade sofa, elevating her feet on one of the pillows. He sat down beside her, feeling helpless and hating himself for bringing on this spell. He'd done nothing but hurt her. She was fragile and bighearted and kind. She'd loved him, and he'd been cruel to her. If she died, he'd be alone forever. Even Sarina and Bernadette would never be able to make up for the loss of Glory.

Tears stained her flushed cheeks. They were silent. Copious. He dabbed at them with a snow-white handkerchief and felt guilt like a shroud around him.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him with bridled anger.

He put his forefinger gently over her lips. "We've both said enough," he said tenderly. "I'm sorry. Sorry for everything. Especially sorry about our baby." His teeth ground together as he spoke. His jaw was rigid. "I had no right to taunt you with it."

"They think...it might have been the blood thinners," she gritted. "I had to take them. I'd already had one heart attack. They were afraid..." Tears poured down her cheeks. "I wanted my baby," she sobbed.

"Amada," he whispered, and bent to kiss the tears away, so softly. "Amada, forgive me," he choked. "I would have wanted it, too. My poor baby." His mouth moved tenderly over her wet eyes, her nose, down to her soft, sweet mouth. He kissed it with forced brevity, groaning as it brought back exquisite memories of Glory in his arms, in his bed, loving him. "Forgive me," he groaned.

She would have. Her arms were already stealing hesitantly up and around his neck, but the door opened and Gracie burst in like a little whirlwind, with Jason at her heels. Rodrigo got to his feet, struggling for composure.

"Here." Gracie fussed, handing Glory the capsule, the tablet and the gla.s.s of water.

Glory swallowed them. "Sorry," she whispered. "I had a bad day in court. Bailey and I went head to head for the better part of three hours until we recessed for lunch. I forgot my morning medicines." She grimaced. "And then I forgot the evening dose, too."

"Careless," Jason chided, but gently. He was very fond of her, and it showed.

"Very careless," Glory agreed. "I'm sorry I embarra.s.sed you."

"Nothing embarra.s.ses me," Jason replied.

"Certainly not illness you can't help, baby," Gracie seconded, bending to kiss the younger woman. "You lie here for a few minutes. We'll entertain the guests. I'll tell fortunes and Jason can do a softshoe routine."

"In your dreams," Jason muttered icily.

Gracie made a face at him. She glanced at Rodrigo.

"Let him stay," Glory said unexpectedly. "We have to talk."

The other two occupants of the room exchanged worried glances. Rodrigo moved closer. "I won't upset her again," he said in a subdued tone. "I'm going out of the country tomorrow. I won't be back for a long time."

"All right," Jason said, reading Glory's sudden misery accurately. "If you need us, sing out."

"I will. Thanks." She included Gracie in that.

The Pendletons left, closing the door behind them.

Rodrigo stood over Glory, quiet and regretful. "We knew nothing about each other," he said. "We lied and pretended. You can't build a relations.h.i.+p on fiction."

"I know," Glory replied heavily. "I couldn't tell you anything. I didn't know you. I was afraid at first that you were mixed up with drug smuggling, and then because Cash and Marquez couldn't tell me what was going on, I thought you were the killer Fuentes had sent after me."

He seemed surprised by the statement. "You thought I could kill you?"

She smiled in a world-weary way. "I prosecuted a teenager two months ago for beating his grandmother to death. He was high on acid and didn't know what he was doing. He's serving fifteen years. He doesn't even remember doing it. I have a low opinion of humanity. I get it from my job."

He sat down beside her again and leaned over her. "I worked as a mercenary for many years," he said. "I saw ugly things, too."

"You aren't what you seem," she replied, searching his dark eyes. "I heard about your sister. I'm sorry. Are your parents still alive?"

He shook his head. "My father raced yachts. He was lost in a storm. My mother grieved herself to death within six months. It was just the two of us, me and my sister, and an estate comparable to the gross national product of a small third-world country. I don't have to work, you see," he said cynically. "I could race yachts or go skiing in Aspen. I don't like the lifestyle, so I avoid it. I've spent too much of my life at the safe end of an automatic weapon. I've never wanted a settled life."

"Yes, you have," she replied. "You wanted it with Sarina."

He frowned. "Yes. I wanted it with Sarina. But it was never like that for her. She couldn't love me."

"You'll find someone, someday," she replied in a dull tone. "Someone who can live an exciting life, and go with you on adventures."

He didn't understand what she was saying.

She laughed. "I know what it is to love a job," she lied, because his acceptance of her statement gave it the ring of truth. What use would he have for a woman in her state of health, anyway? "My whole life revolves around my career. It's all I want." She didn't look up at him. That was a pity.

He got to his feet and moved away. He paused at the end of the sofa. "Will you be all right?" he asked.

"Yes. It's just the excitement," she said. The medicine was already working. She felt much better. She sat up. "They cleared out the blockage. I'm as good as I'll ever be. Well, I'll always have to take medicine, and sometimes I limp when I stress my hip too much. But, for a cripple, I do well enough."

He turned. His expression was strained. "You're no cripple," he bit off.

She only laughed. "Sure."

"Glory," he began slowly.

"Kilraven will be missing me," she said as she got to her feet. "He takes good care of me. He doesn't mind my...flaws."

"Dear G.o.d, don't talk like that! I didn't mean what I said, Glory," he told her, desperate to correct her mistaken understanding. "I wasn't myself."

She looked up at him with her courtroom face, the bland one that defense attorneys had underestimated so often. "You don't need to beat yourself to death over the past, Rodrigo. I'm perfectly happy with the life I have now. I'm sure you're equally happy with yours. Conchita is very pretty," she added, trying to sound as if she didn't care. "I expect she's crazy about you."

She was slamming doors in his face. He'd come face-to-face with his real fear, that he'd lose his heart completely again and suffer the same agony he'd felt when Sarina turned back to Colby Lane. He hadn't thought Glory could live with him, as he was, or cope with his lifestyle. Now he knew that she could, and he was certain they had a future. But she wouldn't even try again. He'd hurt her too badly. She'd decided that he wanted a young, strong, healthy woman, and that she was out of the running. She wasn't willing to risk her heart with him after he'd rejected it.