Killer Secrets (36 page)

friends and take out the spy plaguing us. A simple
exchange."

"With no emotion involved?"

"Goddammit, I took your fucking name." Ian came
out of his chair in a surge of fury. "What the hell do

you want from me, Diego?"

"I want you to call me father!" He was out of his
seat as well, his own anger unleashed, twisting his

expression into a grimace of emotional rage. "I want
to know that when Sorrell dies, I will not then have

to worry about your knife at my own throat. That I will not
have to die by the hand of my son."

"As your brothers died by your hand?" Ian
snarled. "Is that it,
Father
? Want to make sure
the past

doesn't bite your balls off? Son of a bitch!" Ian
raked his fingers through his hair before swinging away

from the other man.

Diego had paled at the word "father." Hope had
sprung in his eyes like a kid at Christmas, sending an

emotional blade ripping through Ian's soul.

He would not feel mercy for this bastard. He would not
regret. He would not let himself ache for things

that could never be.

"You . . ." Diego cleared his throat as he
paused. "You rarely care or allow my opinion to matter."

Ian flexed his shoulders, careful to keep his back to the
other man.

"It doesn't matter now." He felt like grinding
his teeth in fury before he turned back to Diego. And saw,

once again, the familiar features that he saw in the mirror
each morning.

The hair and eye color were different. Ian was slightly
taller, but the shape of the face, the curve of the

lips, the arch of the brow, they were the same. He took
many of his looks after his sire, and other things

as well. Things he didn't want to admit to, didn't want to
face.

Diego's smile was slightly less bitter, perhaps more
hopeful, and Ian hated that. He hated that he would

feel that twinge of regret even more.

"What the hell did you come in here for?" Ian
snapped. "I have work to do and meetings this evening. I

don't have time for bullshit."

Diego nodded. "Yes, you are busy building the cartel,
its people and its product, as well as protecting it.

I am here to tell you that the matter of your
micromanagement is not suiting me. You will turn over the

new routes to me in the morning and you will begin
coordinating with me once again. You are a force to

be reckoned with, and I admit this, but I am not so old nor
so ineffective that I will allow myself to be

pushed out. And there is the small matter of how this will
end once Sorrell has been identified. Should

you walk away, you will not leave me ignorant of my own
world."

Ian nodded easily. "Agreed."

Diego would be as dead as Sorrell when this was over, so
what would it matter?

Surprise flickered in the other man's black eyes, surprise,
hope, and God help him, a father's love. Ian

hated the fucking emotion more than anything else. Son of a
bitch. He didn't want this. He didn't want to

feel. He didn't want to regret and God only knew that he
didn't want to risk more than he had come in

risking to begin with.

"We will meet in the morning then." Diego nodded
briskly before heading for the door. "Will you and

your lovely Miss Porter be taking dinner with me before you
leave this evening?" He turned as he gripped

the doorknob and faced Ian once again. "I have had the
pleasure of speaking to her again this afternoon

by the pool. She is an intelligent, beautiful young woman.
Not exactly the type of female you have

surrounded yourself with on other occasions."

Ian stared back at him silently. He would no more discuss
Kira with this man than he would discuss his

mother.

Diego nodded easily, apparently accepting his silence.
"I would enjoy your company this evening if you

have time," he finally said. "We need time to
know one another, Ian. Time to let the past heal."

He didn't wait for a response. He opened the door and let
himself out before closing it behind him softly,

leaving Ian alone.

He turned and faced the wall, his hands propped on his hips
as he inhaled slowly, deeply. He didn't have

time for this. Sorrell would be moving in soon, as soon as
Antoli managed to capture Ascarti from the

heavily secured yacht still anchored off Aruba's coast.
Even if they couldn't take him, Sorrell would know

his identity was threatened more than ever; he would come
to Ian.

Nearly a year of waiting, watching, and it was almost over.
He would make certain it was over.

Turning back to the desk, he pulled up the file that
contained the pictures they had been taking of the

yacht that week. Ascarti was there, as well as over two
dozen unidentified suspects. Deke was working

through the identifications upstairs while Antoli and
Trevor worked on shooting more pictures and

uploading them to Ian.

Progress could be counted in phases, Ian reminded himself.
This was just a phase of it. Securing his

position here, within Diego's life, within the cartel and
its members. When it was over, the cartel would

fall like a house of flimsy cards. It would be gone. Washed
away like so much dust in the face of a good

cleaning. This was just another phase leading to the end,
and the emotion, the surging regret for what

would never be, would be over once the mission was over.
Idealism was a fool's game here. There was

nothing ideal in the world he was fighting within, there
was only the end result.

There was only success.

At least, that's what he told himself. What he tried to
convince himself of. The mission mattered. Success

mattered. Revenge mattered, and nothing else.

So why the hell did his heart feel like a ragged wound and
why did he remember so clearly that bleak

night that Nathan and his father had rescued him? Why did
he remember screaming for a father that didn't

exist?

Twenty-one

SHE WAS CALLED THE CHAMELEONin the covert underground she
had operated within since her

twenties, but that night, Kira had to admit that when it
came to hiding who and what they were beneath

layers of personality shifts, Ian had her beat.

From the moment he had walked out of the study earlier that
day, she had sensed the carefully banked

fury just beneath the surface. A fury fueled by the
emotions roiling in his liquor-colored eyes. Somehow,

Diego had managed to get to him this time in ways he hadn't
before.

Throughout the day, Ian had managed to hide it. He was
patronizingly patient with Diego, laughing with

his bodyguards, and playing the role of the heir to a major
drug cartel to the hilt. But Kira could sense the

tension rising inside him and it wasn't rising from the
mission alone. There was something else, something

dark, something angry that she couldn't put her finger on.

His mood continued well into the evening, and as the sun
finally began to set, Kira moved to the wide

balcony doors that led from the bedroom rather than the
sitting room. From here, she could see the

upper story of the villa she had leased and the glow of
lights in the bedroom Daniel had taken.

This wasn't the first mission she had taken that her
bodyguard wasn't directly involved. Actually, it would

have been odd had he been involved rather than watching
from the sidelines, ready to lend assistance

should the danger become more than she could handle
herself.

As she leaned against the heavy roof support and stared out
at the villa, a frown worked at her brow.

She could have sworn she glimpsed an additional shadow
moving in the room.

She blew out a rough breath and pushed her hand into the
pocket of the silk capris she wore, her fingers

running over the slender cell phone she carried. She knew
Durango team was over there, knew

something was brewing, and it was driving her crazy.

Ian refused, point-blank, to meet with his former team,
determined to handle this mission as he had

begun it. Alone. Except for her.

She had to admit she was a bit surprised that he hadn't
attempted to have her kidnapped and stashed in

a safe location until it was over. Or until he was dead.

Dead would be a possibility if the snatches of information
she had overheard were true. Ian's plan was to

send a team in to capture Ascarti, the one man suspected of
knowing Sorrell's true identity. Even DHS

and the various law enforcement agencies around the world
had kept their hands off him. They tried to

place agents in close to him, tried to trail him, track
him, and eavesdrop on him, but they hadn't attempted

to take him because the fury Sorrell would unleash was just
too dangerous. Whoever held Ascarti would

feel the full force of the terrorist's fury. Unless they
managed to get Sorrell at the same time.

But who would care if that fury came down on a drug cartel
and a deserter from the U.S. Navy? She

closed her eyes and swallowed back the nervousness rising
inside her. Ian had been steadily pushing

Sorrell, challenging him indirectly by the sheer fact that
he had managed to derail every attempt the

terrorist made against the cartel.

But Ian had gone from defensive to offensive this week when
he snatched the two men responsible for

firing the missile at the limo. And he had killed them.

Logically, Kira knew he'd had no other choice. Once he
snatched the men, he had to send Sorrell a

message. That he wasn't playing. That he meant to protect
his own territory. But she had to admit, she

hadn't believed he would do it. How she thought he would
handle it, she wasn't certain, but she saw he

was harder, more determined than she had ever believed
possible. Determined enough that the risk to

Diego Fuentes's life by his son was greater than she had
imagined.

She needed to report that, at least to Daniel. It was her
job to ensure that Fuentes lived to fulfill his

agreement with the U.S. To send DHS the vital information
he obtained regarding terrorists and rumored

strikes, while he maintained his hold on the drug business.

DHS wouldn't arrest him, detain him, or otherwise strike
directly against his main base of operations,

and neither would the Colombian government. The Fuentes
cartel was handled with kid gloves until the

drugs left the processing labs; after that, it was fair
game.

It was a dirty deal. Ian would never forgive her or his own
government once he learned the truth.

She crossed her arms protectively over her breasts and
lowered her head, trying to hold back her own

guilt and feelings of helplessness.

Hell, Ian had a right to his fury, to his need for blood.
He'd had no childhood because of Diego's bitch of

a wife, Carmelita. And Nathan. God, what Fuentes had done
to Nathan was nothing short of evil. An evil

the United States government was protecting.

Did the end justify the means? She didn't know anymore. She
knew this mission had changed Ian. It had

made him harder, made him colder.

"You're thinking too hard."

She swung around at the sound of Ian's quiet voice from the
open doorway, her heart tripping in her

chest at the softened tone.

She had believed him hard, but she heard something more in
his voice now. Almost regret. His

expression was in shadow, but she could feel the tension
radiating from him.

"Enjoying the night," she countered with a smile
as he moved toward her. "It's beautiful here."

"And deadly." His arms came around her, his hands
gripping her hips and turning her once again, until

she faced the villa. "Daniel hasn't left."

"He won't leave." She leaned into him, almost
closing her eyes at the warmth and strength that