In Destiny's Shadow

“Melina?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I can’t answer that.”

His gaze burned into hers. The lights flickered again. “You said you didn’t want to play games, so don’t.”

He was leaning so close to her that she could see a rim of gold inside the green of his eyes. A lock of hair had pulled loose from his ponytail. It swung against his face, the soft strand an unexpected contrast to the harsh rise of his cheekbone.

She touched her index finger to the loose hair. It was as soft as it looked. Silky, almost sensuous in the way it curved against her nail. She brushed the strand from his cheek and tucked it behind his ear, then ran her fingertips around the curve to his earlobe. The gold earring flicked gently against her thumb. She slid her thumb down the side of his neck, trailing her fingers over the line of a tendon. His skin was warm and taut, the texture intriguingly male.

He straightened abruptly.

Melina was left with her hand in the air. She looked at it blankly for a moment, then twisted to face the table and groped for her notepad.

It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize again. She didn’t. Because, for the life of her, she didn’t know what to say. How could she explain that mindless caress? How could she excuse it? She would be lying if she claimed she didn’t want to touch him.

Dammit, this was so awkward. Why was this happening? He was a source, that was all. He was a potential gold mine of information. With his help, she could build the article she had begun about Titan into Pulitzer Prize material.

But to do that, she had to get Anthony’s cooperation. “Your story moved me,” she said. “I didn’t mean anything by—” she lifted her hand and let it drop “—by what I did just now.”

Anthony returned to stand beside his chair. He put his hand on the jacket he’d draped over the chair back, as if he was debating walking out.

Awkward didn’t come close to describing the situation, Melina thought. She wished she knew what was wrong with her. “I don’t know where Titan is—I mean, Benedict Payne. Not for certain. That’s why I can’t tell you. But I do know where I’m going to look. Hear me out, okay, Anthony?”

He sat.

Melina took a few moments to steady her breathing before she went on. “The FBI has smashed the Titan Syndicate drug ring and raided all the labs he had established. They had thought they would find him in one of them, but he got away.”

“Benedict’s drugs were only a means to an end,” he said. “It was a moneymaking scheme. He has a bigger agenda.”

“Yes, I’ve believed that all along. He has a base of operations that’s independent of his drug business. I suspect it’s in this state.”

“Why?”

“There are a few reasons,” she said. “Here’s the simplest—the Titan Syndicate has done some business in every state except New Mexico.”

“The area of New Mexico is over one hundred twenty thousand square miles. How do you plan to narrow that down?”

“Fredo told me he couldn’t go home. I think the reason has to do with Benedict, so that’s the next place I intend to start looking. Fredo’s hometown.”

“And what is Fredo’s hometown?”

“I’ll answer that in exchange for the rest of your story.”

He stared at her, his gaze snapping. The music that had been playing unobtrusively in the background of the room was suddenly interrupted by shafts of static.

“It’s basically the same deal as before,” she went on. “Only I’ll want more from you than just one interview. Your involvement with Benedict before he became Titan completes the picture. You know more about his character than I do. If you tell me everything that you know, I’ll be able to combine it with the information I have and we can both get what we want a lot sooner.”

“Melina—”

“This is what I do for a living, Anthony. I’m very good at digging up the truth and putting clues together. The sensible choice for us would be to team up. You can tag along with me while I work.”

There was another burst of static from the speakers. “I can ‘tag along’?” he repeated.

“All right, we could be partners.”

He leaned toward her, his body rigid with tension. “Define partners.”

Her heart thumped. She was honest enough to admit to herself that it wasn’t only from the prospect of getting his story. The width of the table lay between them, yet she felt the force of his gaze make the back of her neck heat and her breasts tingle. But she should ignore that. She had to ignore that. “It would be strictly business,” she said quickly. “We can pool our knowledge and our talents.”

He continued to look at her. “Bringing Benedict to justice isn’t a matter of business for me,” he said. “It’s personal.”

“Yes, I understand that now. The sooner we start working together, the faster we’ll both get what we want. Fredo said Benedict is too paranoid now to leave his stronghold, so once we locate that, we locate him. Then we’ll call in the authorities and—”

Before she could finish, there was a commotion at the other side of the room. Chair legs scraped across the floor, voices lifted in question. She turned to look just as someone screamed.

A young couple stood in the doorway of the dining room, apparently stopped on their way out. Melina had noticed the pair when she had arrived. She had assumed they were honeymooners—they had been smiling, so wrapped up in each other that the man had propped his elbow in his plate of eggs. Neither was smiling now. The man had his arms around the woman, her face pressed protectively to his chest.

“Stay here,” Anthony ordered. Seconds later he was on his feet and heading across the room.

Melina grabbed her purse, shoved her notebook inside and followed.

A crowd was gathering in the lobby near the elevators. Their attention appeared to be directed toward something on the floor. Melina couldn’t see what it was until she reached the edge of the ring of onlookers.

At first she thought she was looking at a pile of clothes. The edge of a glossy postcard poked out from one of the folds—it looked like a picture of a thatch-roofed cottage set in a green countryside. But why would someone dump dirty clothes in the lobby? And they were dirty. She could see dark smudges on the denim garment that lay on top.

But then Melina saw the hand.

It wasn’t a pile of clothes, it was a body.

A body dressed in a denim jacket that bore bullet holes and tire tracks.

Anthony shifted into high gear and jammed the accelerator to the floor. The mountain range in the distance inched closer as the Jeep hurtled down the narrow blacktop, its square frame vibrating in the wind. The vehicle wasn’t built for comfort. The stiff suspension transmitted every flaw in the pocked pavement into teeth-rattling jolts, but Anthony was too impatient to slow down.

Melina hung on to the grab bar over the door, her feet planted hard against the floor. Her green carry-on bag was in the back seat beside his duffel. This time she hadn’t argued when he’d told her to pack. She understood the danger they were in. He could see that she was upset, and she had every right to be. She was also adamant that she wasn’t going to give up.

“The turnoff to Antelope Ridge should be coming up soon,” she said. “You’d better hope there isn’t a speed trap.”

He glanced at his mirrors as if he was checking for flashing red lights behind them. He didn’t want to explain to Melina he would have felt the radar impulses long before the police would have spotted him.

Their destination was a town in the rough countryside northeast of Santa Fe. It was miles off the interstate and rated only a small dot on the map. It would be a good place to lay low for a few days, but they weren’t coming here to hide, they were coming here to hunt.

Antelope Ridge was Fredo’s hometown. This is where Melina wanted to begin their search for Benedict’s stronghold.

“I feel bad about leaving Fredo again,” she said. “It doesn’t seem right.”

“The staff at the Pecos will make sure his body is treated with respect, Melina. That’s all we could have done. It wouldn’t have been safe for us to hang around any longer.”

“I realize that, but the whole thing is so…gruesome.”