Killer Secrets (47 page)

trigger despite orders.

The DEA wanted him alive. DHS wanted him alive. Everyone
wanted him alive and Ian had sworn to kill

him. He would kill him. God as his witness; no matter how
despicable the action would be, there was no

other way. He couldn't allow another SEAL, another friend,
to suffer because he had betrayed Diego as

well.

"When do you expect this meeting to take place?"
Diego's voice was oddly weary, resigned.

"I'm hoping soon." Ian crossed his arms over his
chest and stared back at him. "We have something he

wants, badly."

"And that is?" He seemed uninterested, more
concerned with the amount of liquor he could consume

now than he was about the imminent end of his worst enemy.

"We have his daughter."

He stared back at Ian in shock, then in glee.

"I thought she was mere wishful thinking." He
blinked back at Ian in disbelief. "You have her? She is

here? In the villa?" His eyes widened as satisfaction
began to gleam in them. "Is she in the basement?"

Ian felt his teeth snap together in fury.

The son of a bitch, even now, nothing could touch him but
the scent of death or the dirty little games he

played in that fucking basement. Or the death of a friend
who played those games with him as Muriel had

done.

"She's not in the basement," he snapped, the
anger leaking into his voice. "I have her and she's safe,

that's all you need to be concerned with."

Diego grimaced. "You have never understood the value
of the little games I play, have you, Ian?"

"No I don't and we're not going to discuss them
now." Sometimes he felt as though he were dealing with

a particularly willful child when it came to Diego.

He missed Diego's subtle smile, but Kira caught the shift
of the other man's lips and the playful curl of

fondness in Diego's black eyes.

Twenty-six

HE WAS PUSHING IAN'S BUTTONS.He wasn't serious about taking
Tehya to the playroom

forcefully, from what she understood, Diego liked his
playmates willing. But he was serious gauging Ian's

temper or his mood. Like a teenager poking at his father's
authority. Kira imagined Diego saw it as a

game, a prick against Ian for the autocratic way he had
taken over the cartel rather than sharing the

business as Diego had dreamed.

Diego had wanted a son to share the finer things in life
with, and Ian wasn't sharing. They didn't kill

together, because Ian became angry whenever Diego shed
blood. They didn't plot together and they

didn't plan together, so Diego poked at him, prodded, and
found what amusement he could. A small

amount of gratitude, a measure of confidence that his son
felt some small emotion for him, because Ian

didn't slice into him. Because he didn't blow up and he
didn't threaten to kill or leave. Diego believed

there was hope.

Guilt sliced at Kira once again. How hard would it be to
watch him die if she couldn't stop Ian from

killing him? To know that, monster though he was, he was a
monster who craved his son's attention, and

even more, his love.

Kira felt a wave of pity so sharp, so intense, she had to
turn her head away from Diego; unfortunately,

she found herself staring straight into Ian's eyes instead.
Eyes that saw too much, that arrowed in on that

pity and narrowed warningly.

Back off.

He didn't have to say the words, she could feel the demand.
He didn't want to see it, he didn't want to

hear it. And he didn't want to regret it. But she could see
the regret in his eyes, regret and determination.

"Games are the spice of life, Ian." Diego's
comment dragged Ian's attention from her and back to him.

Where he wanted it. His attention was better off there, off
her and the guilt raging through her.

"Games are a pain in the ass." Ian shrugged.
"I want you to get your men in place, have them converge

on and assume protective parameters around the warehouse we
have outside Oranjestad. Sorrell will

assume we're hiding her there. We'll see if he intends to
attack or negotiate."

"But the girl is not there," Diego murmured as he
moved to his desk and the open laptop on it.

As he took his chair, a frown flitted over his brow. His
fingers began to move on the keypad quickly.

"The warehouse wasn't purchased under a known cartel
enterprise," he informed Ian. "We've actually

been using it for a few legal purposes rather than
illegal." There was a measure of surprise in his tone as

he reached for the phone and pulled the receiver toward
him.

Ian caught Diego's hand as he began to dial the numbers.
Kira watched, as surprised as Diego was

when Ian hung the phone up carefully.

He pulled the small electronic device from a holder on the
waistband of his jeans. It had Kira sighing; she

still hadn't been allowed to play with the jamming device.
Ian flipped it on, set it close to the phone then

indicated that Diego could make the call.

Diego sniffed as he punched in the number. "Technology
isn't always a good thing."

"It's going end up saving your ass though," Ian
grunted as he turned away from him, his gaze once again

meeting Kira's.

She pushed her hands into the pockets of her lightweight
blazer, and forced back the need to hunch her

shoulders defensively.

She listened with half an ear as Diego ordered the men into
place. He didn't give them a reason why, of

course, he wouldn't have to. He had ruled with blood and
death for over thirty years, and his reputation

as a killer ensured that his men would follow his word to
the letter and beyond.

"That is done." Diego returned the phone to its
base before going back to the laptop. "I do still have my

fingers in a few little pies." He seemed to roll his
eyes from behind the cover of the laptop. "Let's see if I

can't get a report should we have any unscheduled flights
landing in the near future. He wouldn't come by

boat, it would be too slow."

"He's already in Aruba." Ian folded his arms
across his chest and glared back at Diego.

Diego cast his son a look of disbelief. "I would know
if he were, trust me. Sorrell may be rather good at

keeping his identity hidden, but he's not that good at
keeping his presence hidden. Where he goes, death

and the disappearance of lovely young women follow. We
haven't had a disappearance in Aruba in over

a year. Trust me, he isn't here yet."

Kira turned her back on the two men, her gaze colliding
with Deke's, as Diego and Ian began to argue

the points for or against Sorrell being on the island. It
seemed a useless, pointless argument, until you paid

attention to what wasn't being said and let the
undercurrents of the conversation ebb and flow instead.

"You're a drug lord, not a terrorist, Diego," Ian
reminded him coolly. "I don't think you're as

knowledgeable about that particular species of evil as you
believe you are."

"Terrorists are not so different." Diego shrugged
as Kira turned back to him.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at his son, a quirk
tugging at his lips. "We both have a vision and

we fight for that vision. I say we have the right to choose
to enjoy the stimulation of the drugs, the same

as we have the right to bear arms or to the freedom of
speech that Americans seem to be enjoy with such

enthusiasm. Personally, I've always a found a drug addict
to be much more literate, easier to get along

with, and easier to control than your irate, political
mismatch of lawmakers that America seems to find

such great pleasure in electing to office."

Ian shook his head quickly as though attempting to shake
reality back into his mind.

"Don't fuck with me today, Diego," he bit out.
"I'm not in the mood."

"He could have a point, Ian," Kira drawled then.
"Just think, if all our politicians were happily running out

to the nearest convenience store to buy their next fix,
they wouldn't be giving the rest of the nation a

headache debating laws and freedoms. Anarchy could reign
peacefully then."

Diego's burst of laughter was filled with merriment.

"That is a sharp female you have on your hands, my
son, I hope you intend to keep her around for a

while."

Ian gaze locked with hers again. It was a brooding, dark
look, one that sent a shiver down her spine

because she could see the warning in it.

"I need to question, Muriel," Ian stated rather
than answering Diego's statement.

It was deliberate. Immediately all humor fled from Diego's
gaze and his gaze flickered with pain. But

even that seemed to bring Ian no satisfaction. Kira could
see the tension gathering in him though, the need

to have this finished, to have it over.

"Kira, we need to talk first." She was surprised
when Ian walked to her, gripped her upper hand, and

led her to the door. "I'll be back in a bit," he
tossed over his shoulder. "Deke, stay in contact with the

guards outside and let me know if you need me."

"Gotcha, boss."

The door closed behind them as Ian headed quickly for the
stairs.

"What the hell is your problem?" she hissed.

He was silent, tense, until they reached the bedroom and he
slammed the door behind him. Stalking to

the bureau, he checked the security on the room, slammed
that drawer closed then turned back to her.

She could see the storm in his eyes then, the anger that
bit at the edges of his control.

"Don't you dare feel sorry for him," Ian snarled,
his voice low, intent. "I saw your eyes, I saw it in your

face. Don't think for a minute that you can save him."

She licked her lips nervously. She didn't have a choice but
to save him.

"He's a monster," she began, then inhaled roughly
as satisfaction glittered in his eyes. "But he's a monster

who loves his son."

"Fuck! I knew it." He swiped his fingers through
his hair, pushing back the dark blond strands and

revealing the savagely honed perfection of his face.
"I knew it the minute I saw you on this damned island.

You're letting your emotions cloud this now. How the hell
can you say something like that?"

"My emotions aren't clouding anything, Ian," she
assured him, her voice low as she watched him

compassionately, aching for him. "I see the truth you
refuse to see."

His brows lowered over his eyes, brooding anger shaping his
face and thinning his lips.

"Don't start the psychobabble," he snapped.
"I don't want to hear it. If you can't keep your emotions

under control then you can stay with the rest of the group
and get the hell out of my way."

Whoa, that one hurt.

"Your way or the highway then?" she asked him
with a sharp breath. "Wow, Ian, took you a while, but

you just reminded me why the hell I've always steered clear
of SEALs for lovers. Your attitude sucks."

"If it took you this long to be reminded then you
should be locked up for your own protection," he

growled as he turned his back on her and paced the large
sitting room before throwing himself on the

thickly cushioned sofa and staring at her with blistering
anger. "What do you think you can do, save him?

Why? It's like trying to save a rabid animal."

He glowered up at her, his brows pulled low over his eyes,
his expression a mask of offended male

pride and anger.

She pushed her hands back into her jacket and sighed
wearily. She couldn't tell him the truth and not

because she had been ordered not to. He would lose the
tenuous hold on the control that had gotten him

this far and she knew it. He had lived within this dirty,
corrupt world with only one goal in mind, working