a record of events, Nina pointed to the driver rounding the front end of the car. “This is Señor Blackstone. Rafe Blackstone. He’s visiting me. For a short time.”
Ramon took the hint. “Buenas tardes, Señor. Will you need this car when you leave? If so, I will park it here by the entrance instead of taking it down to the lot.”
“Here’s good.” Blackstone slipped him a folded bill with the car keys and took Nina’s elbow. “Lead the way.”
She did, making sure to repeat his name to the doorman and the clerks on duty in the breezeway that served as a reception area.
“There’s a waiter over there by the pool,” Blackstone drawled. “You want to introduce me to him, too?”
“You think this is funny?” she huffed. “Somehow, I don’t find kidnapping amusing. Neither, I suspect, would the local police.”
“Police down in these parts take a different view of things, but you can call them if you want. Ask for Chief Inspector Mannie Diaz. Tell him you’re with me.”
“Well, for …!”
Thoroughly indignant, Nina came to a dead stop. Hands on hips, she faced her tormentor.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a cop back there in town instead of scaring the crap out of me?”
“I’m not a cop.”
“Oh. Well.” That set her back a bit, but she recovered quickly. “So what are you?”
“We’ll talk about that in your suite. Where is it?”
“You don’t know?” she said snidely. “You seem to know everything else.”
Ignoring the comment, he urged her through the open-air lobby to the pool beyond. It was one of four at the resort. Two catered to families, the other two to adults only. The one on this level was an infinity pool, its floodlit waters seeming to flow over the edge and drop straight into the sea far below.
Instead of booking her into the main hotel, Nina’s superefficient assistant had reserved one of the casitas that clung to the cliffs behind the pyramid. They were quieter and more private—qualities Nina had very much appreciated until this moment.
Some of her nervousness returned as she led the way down several flights of steps and around bougainvillea-draped walls. The only sounds to disturb the evening quiet were the soft music emanating from hidden speakers along the walkways and the ever-present murmur of the sea.
By the time she’d reached her casita, however, her indignation had returned. Along with it came a healthy bout of anger. Fishing her key card out of her tote, she unlocked the door and marched inside. The spacious, beautifully decorated unit featured tile floors, a fully equipped kitchen, one bedroom with a master bath to die for and a small Jacuzzi tucked in a corner of the balcony that was suspended over the sea.
Nina didn’t give her uninvited guest time to admire the ambience. Flinging her tote on a sofa covered in muted jungle print, she folded her arms across her chest.
“All right, Blackstone. If that’s really your name. What’s this all about?”
“It’s really my name,” he confirmed, glancing around. When those laser blue eyes came back to Nina, they sliced into her like a scalpel. “And this is about your friend, Sebastian Cordell.”
“Huh?”
Of all the things she’d expected … Okay, she hadn’t known what to expect. But this certainly wasn’t it.
“Are you talking about the older gentleman I met this afternoon?”
“I’m talking about the man who invited you into his hacienda this afternoon.” His jaw hardened. “As for whether or not he’s a gentleman, you tell me.”
This was getting way too bizarre. Frowning, Nina tapped a foot. “Before I tell you anything, I want some answers. Who are you and who do you work for?”
“I told you my name. Most of the time I run a marine construction company.”
“Other times?”
“I do independent consulting. Hazard elimination. Debris removal. That sort of thing.”
The sideline seemed legitimate. It was just the way he said it. As though there was more to removing debris than hauling it off in dump trucks or barges.
Nina’s foot tapped again. “I want to see some ID.”
With a sardonic shrug, he extracted a well-worn leather wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open to a California driver’s license.
There he was. Rafael Conall Blackstone. Height, 6’2’. Hair: black. Eyes: Blue. Weight: a really buff 180.
“‘Conall’?”
“My grandmother’s Irish.” A gleam flickered in his eyes, quickly come and just as quickly gone. “It translates to ‘strong wolf'.”
For some reason, the fact that he had a grandmother made him seem more human. Less dangerous. Which she knew was really absurd. Like murderers and rapists didn’t?
“My turn.” He slid the wallet back into his pocket. “What were …”
“Not so fast, Blackstone. I’m not finished yet.”
Impatience rippled across his face. Making an obvious effort to contain it, he hooked one of the high stools from the marble counter separating the kitchen from the dining area and swung it around.
Nina gave a huff of disgust. “Make yourself comfortable, why don’t you?”
He did, with one long leg braced against the floor tiles and the other propped on the stool’s rung. “What else do you want to ask me?”
“Oh, just a few little things. Like how you knew I hold a PhD. And where I’m staying. And that I met Sebastian Cordell this afternoon. Oh, yes—one more. There’s also the question of why in hell you didn’t ask me about this guy in town instead of kidnapping and scaring the crap out of me!”
He had the grace to look a little ashamed. Not much. Just enough to suggest he didn’t go around abducting women every day of the week.
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that. To tell the truth, I planned to pour a couple more margaritas down you, get you loose, and pump you for information there at the Purple Parrot. When that didn’t work, you forced me to resort to more direct measures.”
“What information?”
“For starters, how you know Cordell.”
“I don’t know him! Or I didn’t, before my car broke down this afternoon.”
“Pretty convenient, how you arranged for it to break down so close to his compound.”
“'Convenient'?” Nina echoed, incredulously.
“'Arranged'?”
Thoroughly flummoxed, she groped for the other bar stool and yanked it closer so she could plop down. This whole thing was becoming more absurd by the moment.
“Why would I ‘arrange’ a breakdown?”
The rueful note disappeared from his voice. Hard and sharp-edged, it cut through the air between them.
“Maybe because Sebastian Cordell has something to sell. Something you might want,” he added, his eyes locked on hers. “You and a number of other entrepreneurs.”
The small sneer accompanying the last word brought Nina’s chin up with a snap. She’d worked damn hard to establish her company. She’d sunk every penny of her savings into start-up costs, then borrowed heavily to purchase the building Grant Medical Data Systems now operated out of. The first months—the first years—had been scary as hell.
But she’d pulled