Warrior Without Rules

But Castillo put up his hand to halt her objection, allowing Zach to continue.

“Everything,” he emphasized, his gaze never leaving Antonia’s. “Nothing happens without my knowledge and consent. Clear?”

“Crystal” she replied frigidly.

“No interference. Not from your father, not from Ms. Chavez, not even from the police.”

“Victor,” Veta protested more vehemently. “Surely you can’t agree to this nonsense.”

Zach held the icy blue glare of the woman seated below him and very clearly summarized, “There’s me and there’s God.” Jack had been fond of that particular saying, and Zach found it suitably dramatic to make his point. “You will only listen to me. And you will do exactly as I say. No questions, no arguments.”

She was having trouble swallowing that one down but she did so long enough to ask, “And Rule Two?”

“Rule Two, where you go, I go. No exceptions. To the hairdresser, to your girls’ night out, to your gynaecologist appointment. I’m right there.”

“And when I shower, will you scrub my back?”

He allowed a faint smile at that brittle retort. “If you like. Privacy will be strictly at my discretion. And I can be very discreet.” At that last assertion, he lowered his tone ever so slightly so she would catch the reference. She knew he could be and would be again.

“And Three?”

“Rule Three, nothing personal. This is strictly a business arrangement. I will not be played. I will not be drawn into your affairs, private, professional or otherwise. I won’t allow anything to distract me from my job, so don’t expect more than that.”

“Heaven forbid that you be distracted.” Her stare glittered like shards of glass.

“Those are the rules. No exceptions and no deviations. If you’ll follow them, I’ll keep you safe. Agreed?”

She stared up at him, pride warring with necessity. Each rule was a deeper intrusion, a sharper cut into her independence, a tighter rein of control into the intimate details of her life. But he hadn’t created the situation she found herself in. If she wanted his help, this time she’d do it his way.

“I will follow your rules,” she acquiesced at last. “No matter how overbearing and obnoxious I consider them to be.”

He did smile then, a wide appreciative grin. “You’re entitled to your opinion as long as I have your guarantee of cooperation.”

“Would you like it written in blood or would a handshake do?”

She put out her hand in a forthright gesture that took him off guard. This spirit of acceptance was not what he expected. He took her hand gingerly. Her handshake was firm, assertive but gentle, too, because of the binding across his palm. She glanced at the wrapping, her brow furrowing, but she didn’t ask questions. He liked that and the fact that with the confidence of her grip came the soft silken feel of her skin. And the moment he became aware of it, he pulled back.

Looking relieved that all had been concluded without verbal bloodshed, Castillo asked, “How much do you want?”

“To keep your daughter alive?” His jaw clenched tight to keep the rest unsaid. Would the son of a bitch come up with the cash this time or haggle for the best price?

“Name it. Whatever you want.”

Castillo’s money was the last thing Zach wanted. “Whatever Chaney charges is fine with me. He’ll see I’m remunerated.”

“I didn’t think you worked for Chaney.”

“You’ve just subcontracted my services through Personal Protection Professionals. They’ll send the bill. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve had back-to-back transatlantic flights and would very much like to freshen up a bit before going over the particulars with Miss Castillo.”

Antonia rose immediately. “I’ll show you to your room. I’m sure Veta plans to launch quite an argument with my father once we’re out of earshot.”

Nodding to his host and the lovely Ms. Chavez, Zach followed Antonia into the hall, noting the Salome sway of fabric she put in motion with her brisk step. She walked like a prize fighter, with an arrogant strut, leading with her chin held high. And he found it more alluring than any practiced swivel.

“And will she win any points?”

Antonia glanced back at him. “Who?”

“Ms. Chavez.”

“No.” Sure, not smug. A woman who recognized her power but didn’t gloat about it. “What did you do to your hand?”

The shift in subjects had him off balance again. He didn’t like that, the feeling of having to catch himself to stop a fall. He’d always been that way around her. Just her. He made a quick note to widen his literal and his mental stance.

“Worried that it will handicap my efforts?”

Again, the curt, “No. Just curious. Or is that against the rules, too?”

“Just a cut. Nothing serious. How about you tell me how serious your trouble is?”

They’d reached the stairs, a massive column of heavily carved wood that rose up with two separate landings to an open rail above. The wall behind it was stained and leaded glass. He’d bet it was spectacular with the summer sun shining through it. But in the weak winter light there was barely enough illumination to see beyond the first turn of the deep red runner. He didn’t like it—the dark paneled halls, the shadowed stairs.

“It’s no secret that moving Aletta out of the country made a lot of influential people very angry. They’d be thrilled to see negotiations fall through—or at least be delayed if for some reason I was unable to competently handle them. A delay would give them more time to mount a legal defense or find attractive incentives to keep production in the States.”

What was attractive was the way the supple knit clung to her hips and buttocks as she mounted the steps ahead of him.

Rule Three, Russell. Rule Three.

“What have they done to discourage you?”

She paused on the landing as if to catch her breath then started up once more. “Just basic intimidation at first, you know, rocks through windows, delightfully graphic graffiti, a chicken nailed to the front door.”

“Of this house?” That shocked him. To get inside the perimeter implied a breach of security beyond the capabilities of a few disgruntled Union workers. It meant he was dealing with a professional. Or someone on the inside.

“That was about two months ago.”

She fell silent, prompting him to conclude, “But it got worse.”

“Do you know what a virtual kidnapping is?” She’d reached the hall and turned to face him. He stopped a few steps below and had to look up at her. Her features were taut as carved marble.

“It’s a con. The scammer gathers information on a victim, waits until they’re temporarily out of reach then calls their families to say their loved one has been snatched. If they’re good and quick, they can have the money before the family realizes they never had their loved one at all. It’s a nonviolent but emotionally brutal trick.” His expression stilled. “Someone called your father.”

“I was coming back from skiing in Colorado. I was involved in a minor car accident and missed my flight. Weather took out communications. Because of the holidays, there were no seats available on anything with wings. By the time I managed to charter a flight, they’d already made contact to say they had me. They demanded one point five million.”

“Did he pay?” His question sounded as soft as a prayer in the cavernous stairwell.

“He said he wouldn’t pay without proof that they had me.”

Mesmerized by the fierce intensity in her face, Zach held back his curse.