Obsession

“Going back there tonight would be a mistake, Raul,” she said softly. “A very big mistake.”

He met her troubled gaze with a blank one of his own. “It won’t be the first time. Or the last.”

BY THE TIME Raul got back to Emma’s, it was almost one in the morning. Except for a single low light in one upstairs corner, the house and gardens were dark. He parked the truck, then settled into the expectant stillness to wait.

EMMA RAN THE BRUSH through her hair and absentmindedly looked at her watch. Sarah and Jake had been asleep for hours, or at least they should have been. She imagined them in their beds, tucked in safe and sound. She’d done Sarah’s room in lavender and pink, Jake’s in dark green and navy. Todd had complained when Emma had selected the colors, saying they didn’t match the rest of the house. The decorator had concurred and been horrified when he’d seen them. But Emma hadn’t cared. Her hand stilled as she remembered her son’s face when he’d first seen the baseball wallpaper. His eyes had blazed with excitement, and he’d jumped up and down, squealing with delight.

Before Emma could stop herself, her vision blurred with tears. Angrily she threw down the hairbrush and wiped at her eyes, but it didn’t do any good. The stinging tears continued. She took a ragged breath, but several minutes passed before she managed to get a tenuous hold on her emotions. Searching her brain for a distraction, she focused on the first thing she thought of—Raul Santos.

Seeing him at Candelabra this evening had been a shock. She wasn’t sure why—the man obviously had no trouble getting a date—but she hadn’t expected him there, especially with a gorgeous woman on his arm. They’d talked a lot, their dark heads together, their hands wrapped around matching glasses of wine. What on earth had he thought when he’d caught Emma pouring out her glass of champagne? She couldn’t imagine what must have run through his head, but she told herself she didn’t care. It would have been far worse for her if she’d drunk the wine.

She stood abruptly and crossed her bedroom to the window facing the street. Over the garden wall, the avenue was dark and deserted, save for several vehicles parked on the other side. A night bird called out, his cry piercing the empty silence.

After a second she dropped the curtain and turned. Halfway to her bed, she stopped impulsively and returned to her desk by the window to flick on her computer. The hard drive whirred into action as she pointed the mouse to her server icon.

The modem connection clicked and hummed, then a few seconds later, connected. At the other end, the phone began to ring and her screen began to blink. Navigating to the site she needed, Emma entered her password, then nodded in satisfaction. Leon was on-line, just as she’d known he would be.

She imagined him sitting in a trance before his computer at the bank in New Orleans. The lab operated twenty-four hours a day, and Leon always took the night shift. Totally without social graces, he’d managed to insult half the management team when he’d worked as a summer intern at the bank. The other half had seen his wardrobe and assumed he was a homeless kid hanging around the lobby to stay cool. She’d sensed the brains behind the facade and had gotten Leon Davis his job; she hoped he remembered that now.

She typed quickly. “Leon, this is Emma Toussaint. I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

His answer reflected his surprise. “I’m just surfing. Nothing important. What’s up?”

There was caution in his short reply, and she wasn’t surprised. Todd hadn’t just ruined her personal life; he’d annihilated her professional one, as well. Everyone at the bank—even down in the computer lab, she was sure—had heard the gossip. Knowing her ex-husband and his family as she did, she was sure he’d kept the bad news alive as much as he could.

Her fingers tapped out her answer. “I’m working overseas—in South America—and I’ve got a question. I don’t know anyone who could help me but you.”

The flattery worked, just as she knew it would.

“I’ll give it my best shot.”

She paused. He was brilliant and could get the information; she’d been the only person at the bank who hadn’t been ready to fire him when they’d discovered he’d hacked his way into the salary file to see what everyone was making. But how to pose her query?

“I want you to check out someone for me. Discreetly,” she typed. “Raul Santos. He’s a new customer at my bank. Used to live in Washington, D.C., or possibly El Paso, Texas.” She hit the enter key before she could think too hard about it.

“Sounds interesting. You want that real time or can I get back to you?”

“There’s no hurry.”

“No problem. I’ll catch you later in the week. Stay cool.”

She leaned back in her chair and stared at the monitor. She wasn’t sure why she’d done what she just had. If anyone found out, she’d have a hard time explaining. Requesting personal data on her clients was not standard operating procedure. On the other hand, Raul Santos didn’t seem like her usual client.

If she wanted to check out someone, it ought to be William Kelman. Any time a client asked the kind of questions he had this evening, a red light came on in Emma’s brain. Curiosity of that sort usually meant one thing—the person wanted it for a reason, and it generally wasn’t a legitimate one. She thought briefly of talking it over with Chris but just as quickly decided against saying anything to her boss. He didn’t like problems, and anything remotely out of the ordinary was a problem to him. She shut down her machine, empty silence replacing the mechanical hum of the computer.

One way or the other, she needed Kelman’s account and as many like it as she could find. Each one meant a bonus, and each bonus brought her one step closer to her goal—having enough money to buy the meanest, toughest lawyer New Orleans had to offer. She’d fought Todd with everything she’d had, but that hadn’t been enough. When she went back to try again, she’d have what she needed.

Nothing else mattered.

THE DIM LIGHT behind the upstairs window went out at 1:45 a.m. Raul glanced at his watch, then waited five more minutes before starting the truck. He drove slowly down the street toward Emma’s house and paused right in front. She didn’t know what kind of vehicle he had, so if she looked out the window it wouldn’t matter, anyway.

As if the house were breathing, the upstairs curtains moved in and out in a rhythmic pattern. Must be a fan, he thought, something to break the still night air. He wasn’t prepared for the image that appeared next in his mind, surprising him with its intensity. Emma in bed. The blond hair shining in the darkness. Her slim body in a nightgown. Her fingers curled against the sheets. In the restaurant this evening, her elegant beauty had made every other woman in the place look overblown, too made up.

Then he remembered his words to Wendy. Emma had had her share of troubles. The file he had on her back at the villa he’d rented contained only the barest details, but they were grim. She’d grown up in Louisiana and met Todd Toussaint at college. They’d married, and two children had followed quickly—but so had disaster.

Todd Toussaint had made sure everyone knew the split was not his fault. He divorced her and her life went downhill quickly. She was fired from the bank, and he gained full custody of the children. Without a family, a job or even references, she’d ended up in Santa Cruz, Bolivia.

Emma Toussaint had nowhere to go and nothing to lose. She was just the kind of woman William Kelman would seek out and use.

All Raul had to do was stand by and watch it happen.

CHAPTER FOUR

THEY MET AT PARQUE URBANO twice a week, where four laps around the track equaled two miles. Reina could keep up with Emma for three circuits, but on the fourth one, she always fell back and Emma would surge forward. They’d connect again at the finish line. On Wednesday morning, as Emma was ending her run, she saw Reina, already sitting on the curb, fanning her face. She rose slowly as Emma neared.

“One more time,” Emma urged her, still jogging in place. “C’mon, we’ll walk it.”

“I can’t,” Reina puffed. “No way.”

“I thought you were interested in a rich husband,” Emma teased, finally stopping. “How’re you gonna catch one if you can’t run after him?”

Reina made a face of disgust. “Good point. I’ll go, but you have to bribe me.”

Emma took a swig from the water bottle she’d left on a nearby bench. “With what?”

“I want to hear about your dinner with William Kelman.”

Emma shook her head and began to walk, Reina trailing at her side. “You know I can’t talk about my clients with you.”

“I don’t want to know about his bank balance! I meant your dinner, silly.”

Emma spoke slowly. “Well, he’s…strange. You should have warned me. He asked me all kinds of questions about trading.”

“That’s your job. Why is it strange for him to ask you about it?”

“Let’s just say the questions weren’t the kind I usually get,” Emma answered. “They were more about how to get around the system than how to use it the way you’re supposed to.”

“He’s been in and out of Santa Cruz for years and never had any trouble. I think he’s okay.”

“You think he’s okay because you’re interested in him.”

“And why shouldn’t I be? He may be old, but he’s rich and single. He told me all about himself when I was showing him houses. He was a big shot with the government. He went back and forth between here and the States, doing deals. He’s not some narcotraficante.”

The word made Emma’s mind shoot off in a different direction. Toward the man she’d met the other day. She spoke impulsively. “Reina, do you know a guy by the name of Raul Santos? He’s an American, too. You haven’t shown him anything, have you?”

Reina stopped so fast her tennis shoes kicked up tiny clouds of dust. “Where did you hear that name?”

“A…friend mentioned him,” Emma said, crossing her fingers inside her pocket. “She, um, wants to introduce us.”