Chapter 1

The village was too damn quiet.

Chase Remington stood in the shadows at the edge of the Central American village of Chipultipe and waited. But he heard nothing.

There were no voices or music drifting out of the village tavern, which should have been full of people at this hour of the night.

There were no people on the streets.

No babies cried and no dogs barked.

It was as if the darkness of night had pressed down on Chipultipe, smothering all signs of life.

Adrenaline surged through Chase as he waited in the darkness. The hot humid air was heavy with expectation. It was a feeling he understood and respected. It had saved his life more than once in his years as an agent.

But he wasn’t an agent any longer, he reminded himself. He touched the gun that nestled at the small of his back. He was only a private investigator, hired to do a specific job here in Chipultipe.

He didn’t care what was going on in this village, unless it had something to do with the woman and the kid he was supposed to take to the city. And he doubted that a woman and her baby were the source of the tension that permeated the very air of this village.

He moved out of the shadow only long enough to blend into another one. He knew exactly where to find Paloma Juarez. And it was past time to grab her and her kid and get the hell out of this place. He wanted to be back in his bed and sound asleep in his luxury hotel in Monterez before dawn.

Moving soundlessly from alley to alley, he made his way to the small house where Paloma Juarez lived. He paused outside the door, then nodded when he heard the quiet murmur of a woman’s voice. It sounded as if she was crooning to a baby. He took one more look around the deserted street, then slipped in through the door.

The woman’s voice stopped abruptly. Knowing she must have heard him, Chase hurried toward the other room in the small house to reassure her. But when he stepped into the tiny room, now completely dark, he saw no one.

“Don’t move.”

The voice came out of the shadows, harsh and guttural in the Spanish dialect of the region. He whipped his head around toward the source of the voice—and froze when he saw the gun aimed at his heart and held in a hand as steady as a rock.

“You’re making a mistake,” he said. He heard a sharp gasp. The gun wavered for a moment, then pointed at his heart once again.

“What are you doing here?” She remained hidden in the darkness.

“I’m looking for Paloma Juarez,” he said as he stared intently into the shadows. Something about that voice was hauntingly familiar, making his nerves hum and his blood quicken. “Her uncle sent me to bring her and her baby to Monterez.”

The silence quivered for a moment. “You’re too late,” the voice finally said, and there was no mistaking its bitterness. “Paloma is gone.”

He knew that voice. “Who are you?” he asked. “And where the hell did she go?”

A woman stepped out of the shadows and the gun disappeared. “Paloma didn’t go anywhere,” she said, speaking now in English.

Chase stared at the woman who stood in front of him. Her black hair was shorter than it was the last time he’d seen her, but he hadn’t forgotten her face. His heart slammed into his ribs, and a vise squeezed his chest. Desire, carefully leashed for three years, ripped at him with savage teeth.

“Andrea McGinnis. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing, Remington.”

“I was hired to come here and get Paloma Juarez and her kid.”

“And I’ve been here all along.” Her look was measuring. “Didn’t Mac tell you that?”

“Mac had nothing to do with this job.”

“Mac Andrews was the only person besides me who knew about Paloma. If someone hired you to get her out, it could only have been Mac.”

Anger burned through him, and Chase welcomed it. It helped fight the unwanted desire that threatened to swamp him. It was better to focus on Mac and his scheming.

His former boss had used him, and done it very cleverly. By baiting him with a huge payment and working through a third party, he’d succeeded in getting him back to the country of San Marcos.

He let the anger flow through him. It cleansed him of his unwanted yearning for Andrea—or Andi, as she preferred to be called. He’d never allowed himself to think of her as anyone but McGinnis. It would be foolhardy and dangerous to think of her any more personally than that.

Then he forced himself to put aside both his anger and his memories of Andi. He didn’t have time for any emotions right now. All he wanted was to get out of this town. “It doesn’t matter who sent me. All I want is Paloma Juarez and her kid.”

She turned away abruptly. “And I told you, Paloma isn’t going anywhere.”

“There must have been a reason for Mac to fix up this elaborate charade. He must want her out of here pretty badly.”

“He did. But it’s too late. Paloma is dead.”

Her words hit him like a fist, but he controlled his reaction. Regrets wouldn’t change a thing. “What about the kid?”

Andi reached under the bed and pulled out a small blanket-wrapped bundle, holding it to her chest. “Paolo is safe, and he’s going to stay that way.”

Andi glared at him, but he saw the faint glitter of tears on her cheeks. “What happened?” he asked more gently.

She shook her head. “I don’t have time to explain. Paolo and I have to leave now.” She set the baby gently on the floor, then grabbed a backpack and shrugged in on.

“I’ll take you to Monterez.”

“No, thanks. We can’t risk going over the roads.”

“Then how are you going to get there?”

She gave him a cool look. “I think it’s better if you don’t know.”

She started to brush past him, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist. That was a mistake. Her skin was as soft as he remembered. And her wrist was delicate, the tiny bones vulnerable in his huge hand. If he didn’t know that Andi McGinnis was as tough as a jungle vine, he’d mistake her delicacy for weakness. But he knew there was nothing weak or vulnerable about Andi McGinnis.

She froze when he touched her. When she turned to look at him, he thought he saw a flash of panic in her deep blue eyes. It was quickly hidden. “Let me go.”

“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I told you, Remington, Paolo and I don’t have time for explanations. We have to get out of Chipultipe.”

“And I said I would take you to Monterez. We’ll be there by morning.”

She shook her head and pulled her wrist free. But his hand still burned with the memory of her soft smooth skin.

“We can’t go by road.” She touched her wrist with her other hand, and Chase wondered if her skin tingled, too. “He’ll have the roads watched.”

“Who is ‘he’?”

She gave him an impatient look. “Didn’t they even tell you that? El Diablo, of course.”

His mouth settled into a grim line. “No one told me anything. But I should have figured El Diablo was involved the minute I recognized you.”

Her mouth hardened. “I’d love to stand around and swap El Diablo stories with you, but Paolo and I have other plans. Take it easy, Remington.”

She bent to pick up the baby and headed into the other room. He moved quickly to stand between her and the door of the house. “You’re not going anywhere, McGinnis.”

She started to respond, but suddenly stopped. He heard it, too—the sound of men’s voices echoing between the houses. It was a sharp contrast to the strained silence he’d felt in the village when he’d first arrived.

Andi’s arms tightened around the baby she held, and her eyes flashed at Chase. “Get out of the way, Remington. That’s my cue to leave.”

“Who are they?”

“El Diablo’s men.”

It took just an instant for him to make the decision. “Where to?”

“The jungle. It’s our only chance.”

The instant understanding and connection bothered him, but he didn’t have time to analyze it. He pulled open the door and looked down the street. Still empty. Andi slid out beside him, then tilted her head in the direction of the shouting. “That way.”

He wanted to argue with her, but she knew the village better than he did. So he followed her silently. She slipped between two houses set very close together and disappeared into a blackness more complete than the deepest pit of hell.

“In here.” Her voice was disembodied, and he reached out to find a boxlike structure in front of him, about half as tall as a house. “You’ll have to bend down to get in.”

The box was hot and cramped and smelled over-poweringly of animals. “What in the blazes is this?”

“It’s Miguel Fuertes’s old chicken coop. He sold all his chickens last week and hasn’t replaced them. It’s a perfect place to hide. They won’t think to look here, and they’ll be past us in a moment.”

The voices and shouting were coming closer, and Chase reached around to pull out his gun. One of Andi’s legs pressed against his, making the chicken coop far too warm. He tried to move away, but there was no room. The baby whimpered once, and she murmured something to him in a low voice. The alluring mysterious scent of Andi McGinnis filled his head, a scent that had disturbed his dreams for the past three years. The smell of the chickens seemed to fade away.

As soon as the voices were past their hiding place, Andi squirmed her way to the door and slipped out. Chase followed, his gun drawn.

When she turned to him, he could see the worry on her face. “We don’t have much time. I heard what they said, and they’re looking for me. It’s not going to take them long to realize that Paolo is gone. They’ll know I took him.”

“What’s the quickest way into the jungle?”

“Straight back a few blocks.”

“Then let’s go.”

It looked like she wanted to refuse, but she finally nodded. He turned and moved beyond the chicken coop, then slid into the shadows next to another house.

The village had been hacked out of the jungle, and the trees crowded the perimeter of the town, as if waiting for their chance to snatch the land back. Chase kept Andi and the baby close to him as they moved away from the sound of the men’s voices and toward the cover of the vegetation.

They moved between houses and down alleys, keeping away from the streets. They blended into the night, melting into the darkness and clinging to the shadows. Most of the people in this farming village would have been asleep already, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

Chase paused frequently, shielding Andi and the baby with his body as he looked around. Every time they heard voices Andi tensed. He felt her muscles tighten, felt her hold the baby more closely. He moved through the darkness as quickly as he could.

When they finally reached the last houses at the edge of town, Chase pushed his way into the mass of dense vegetation, holding back the branches and vines so Andi could follow him. She stumbled over exposed roots. He knew that several small branches whipped back and struck her, but she kept up with him, clutching the bundle that was the baby to her chest.

The air was hot and still, smothering him almost as soon as they stepped into the jungle. Humidity settled over him like a wet blanket, making it hard to breathe. Chase felt himself begin to sweat and realized that in minutes his clothes would be soaked through. But he didn’t stop. The sound of those angry voices still echoed in his ears. They had to be farther away from the village before they could take a chance on stopping.

Clearly Andi thought so, too. He heard her breathing heavily behind him, but she didn’t say a word. And she didn’t slow down. Thank God the kid didn’t make a sound.

Finally, when they hadn’t heard any noise from the village for a long time, Chase slowed, then stopped. Andi bumped into him and immediately backed away.

Every muscle in his body tightened at the brief contact, and the touch of Andi’s slight body lingered on his. He imagined that he could feel every curve, every soft yielding place on her body imprinted on his much larger frame.

The reaction shocked Chase. Andi McGinnis was the last woman in the world he was interested in. She was the last woman in the world he would ever trust. And he wanted her to be the last woman in the world he would ever notice.

But his body seemed to have other ideas.

“Stop here,” he said gruffly. “Let’s catch our breath and listen for a few minutes.”

She sank to the ground and opened the blanket protecting the baby. “Is the kid all right?” he asked after a moment.

She glanced up at him and nodded. “He looks fine. He fell asleep.”

“Thank God.”

She nodded and whispered, “I was so afraid he was going to start crying.”

“It’s okay if he cries now. No one can hear him.”

She gazed down at the sleeping baby. “I think he’s going to sleep for a while.”

“You’re not sure?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never kept him all night. I don’t even know if he sleeps through the night.” She touched the baby’s cheek lightly, then shifted him in her arms.

Chase shifted back so that he was leaning against a tree. He ignored the stutter his heart made as he watched her caress the baby. “You don’t know much about him.”

He saw her hold on the child tighten. “I know enough.”

“You were planning on taking a kid you know nothing about and running into the jungle with him?”

“I know all I need to know. I’ve been taking care of Paolo during the day for the past two months.”

“That’s not the same as taking care of him twenty-four hours a day.”

Even in the dim mottled light he saw the stubborn set of her mouth. “It can’t be that tough. I’ll figure it out.”

“Why were you getting ready to take off with him?”

She sighed and glanced down at the baby, and he saw her lower lip quiver. When she looked up at him, he saw the defiance in her eyes. “Because now I’m all he has. And I wasn’t going to stay in Chipultipe and watch him get killed.”

“Who would kill a little baby?”

Her mouth thinned. “El Diablo. You should know enough about him to know that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill an innocent child.”

Chase sank to the ground across from her. Weak moonlight filtered through the trees, and there was just enough illumination for him to see her high cheekbones and wide-spaced eyes, but not their expression. He remembered the bright blue color that used to shine like a flame, then he abruptly looked away. He didn’t want to notice anything about Andi, including how she looked in the moonlight.

“Tell me what happened to Paloma.”

“Don’t you think we need to get farther away from Chipultipe?”

“We’re safe enough here for the time being. Now I need to know what’s going on.”

Her eyes flashed at him and now he could read her perfectly. She wanted to tell him that he wasn’t in charge, that he had no right to ask questions. But she took a deep breath, instead.

“I owe you that much, I guess.”

Andi looked down at Paolo, asleep in her arms, and touched his cheek again. A look of fierce love and protectiveness filled her face, and in spite of himself, Chase’s heart moved in his chest. Get over it, he told himself.

“I’ve been here in Chipultipe for the past two months,” Andi began. “My cover was as a teacher, sent by the Peace Corps. I was really here to collect information from Paolo’s mother, Paloma. She worked as a maid in El Diablo’s hideaway.”

Chase frowned at her. “How the hell did you hook up with her?”

“She was a very courageous woman,” Andi said quietly. “Her husband worked for El Diablo, too. When he was killed by government soldiers during a botched drug delivery several months ago, she finally saw how heartless and cruel El Diablo was. He didn’t care about her husband’s death—it was just a cost of doing business for him. She knew she had to stop El Diablo before any more women lost their husbands. She managed to call the police on a trip to Monterez, and they put her in touch with our agency. A couple of months later I was sent to Chipultipe to act as her contact.”

“So she was working in El Diablo’s house?”

Andi nodded. “Apparently after her husband died, El Diablo figured she’d be loyal to him because she didn’t have any choice. She was able to get us some very valuable information. She didn’t think he knew what she was doing.” Andi’s mouth thinned. “She said that El Diablo assumed she would be too grateful for the work to ever turn on him. Maybe she was wrong. Or maybe he was just suspicious because a stranger was taking care of Paolo for her, and he didn’t want to take any chances. She was shot as she walked home this evening and left for dead along the side of the road.”

Chase leaned forward and touched her hand, in spite of his warning to himself. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”

“Of course it was hard.” Her voice was harsh and he saw the guilt in her eyes. She swallowed before she spoke again. Chase looked away, remembering the pain of losing someone he’d worked with, remembering too clearly the guilt he’d felt. And remembering Andi McGinnis’s part in that death.