bag in one, a dripping umbrella in the other.
Without conscious thought, she stood, the file slipping from her fingers to the floor, papers fluttering in every direction as her pulse suddenly roared in her ears. The man said something else and she heard him, but she had no idea what the words even meant. Her brain had ceased to work and all she could do was stare.
SHEPARD REYES HAD always wondered what his brother’s whore looked like.
Now he knew.
They stared at each other, the luxurious office shrinking until there was barely enough air to breathe. Dark eyes. Black hair. Full lips. A straight nose that belied her ancestry. Her expression was so fierce and commanding that he could easily imagine her choosing the same lifestyle as his brother. With equal detachment, however, Shepard could see why Renaldo had been attracted to her. She was more than simply attractive; her eyes pulled a person closer and wouldn’t let go.
His voice was low and contained and gave away nothing of what he was thinking. “Are you Maya Vega?”
She swallowed and her throat moved. His eyes went to the motion, then she spoke, pulling his gaze back up. She’d recovered her composure so quickly someone other than Shepard would not have even noticed it’d fled.
“Who are you? How’d you get in here—”
Uncovering the whereabouts of Maya Vega—now Velaquez—had taken more money and more time than he had anticipated but Shepard had been forced by his conscience to hunt her down. She was the one person who could confirm or deny the peasant’s story, and if it turned out to be true, then he would be spending even more time and money. He had no patience left for the niceties.
“I told your secretary we were old friends. And you know who I am.” He paused. “My name is Shepard Reyes. Renaldo Reyes was my younger brother.”
Sweeping up the papers she’d dropped, then dumping them on her desk, Maya Vega stared at him. Her demeanor was steady but her expression held fear, and her ivory skin was pale.
Shepard felt a twinge of sympathy that he immediately squelched. If everything he knew about her—and half of what he suspected—was the truth, then she deserved nothing but his scorn.
“What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you,” he said. “Something has come to my attention that no one but you can confirm. If I could have some of your time, I’d appreciate—”
“I’m sorry, but that’s impossible.” She interrupted him and tilted her head toward the hallway. “You can talk to my secretary on the way out. Perhaps next week sometime…”
Their gazes locked, the knowledge flowing between them that she would be “booked” until the end of time…at least as far as he was concerned.
He ignored her obvious brush-off. “You do remember my brother, don’t you?”
“Of course, I remember him.” If she was this cool in front of a jury, he could see why she was in the corner office. “But what happened back then took place in another lifetime. What could you possibly want with me now?”
“That’s what I’d like to discuss. If you’d accompany me to breakfast, I’ll explain.”
“I don’t have time for that. You’ll tell me why you’re here right now and then you’ll leave.” The words came out hard and flat. “Talk or walk.”
He understood exactly what she was doing; in her office, she held the power. If they went somewhere neutral, they’d be on even ground.
“The issue is too involved to be explained in five minutes.”
She glared at him stonily. “Then I guess it won’t be discussed at all. I’m not leaving. I have appointments I can’t break.”
Anger flooded him. He didn’t want to do this the hard way, but he could if necessary. “I’m sure that would be best—for you. But that’s not going to happen.”
“And if I refuse to cooperate?”
“I don’t think you want to do that.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Not at all,” he said. “It’s simply the way things are. If I were you, I’d accept that. Otherwise I might be forced into looking elsewhere for help.”
She didn’t blink and she didn’t speak.
He nodded toward the rolled-up newspaper lying on the edge of her desk. “I’m sure the press would be delighted to assist me. It’s not every day a former leftist guerrilla aspires to become a judge.”
CHAPTER TWO
MAYA WENT COMPLETELY STILL and stared at the man before her.
He smiled, his calculating expression as cold as the fear that suddenly possessed her. “All I want is a small portion of your time…and the truth,” he added. “Then I’ll leave you alone and you’ll never see me again.”
“Is that a promise?”
He actually seemed to consider his answer before he nodded. “You have my word.”
She felt as if she’d swallowed broken glass. Since the day she’d left Colombia, she’d worried that this might happen. She’d done everything she could to prevent it…in fact, her life had been designed to keep her past in the past, but if Shepard Reyes had found her, then she’d clearly failed.
Before she could say anything more, Patricia suddenly appeared in the doorway. Maya felt the blood drain from her heart and pool in her stomach.
He turned and spoke pleasantly. “Hello there.”
Maya crossed the room and came toward them, praying her legs would hold her up a little longer, her mind shuffling through the possible lies she could concoct, rejecting them until she came to one that sounded halfway plausible. “Patricia, this is an…associate, Shepard Reyes. Mr. Reyes…” she swallowed, then spoke quickly to cover her hesitation “…is co-counsel on a case I’m handling for some clients in Mexico.” She sent a warning gaze in Shepard’s direction. “This is one of my partners,” she said. “Patricia Livingston-Wallis.”
In her standard intimidating way, Patricia eyed Shepard up and down—then she smiled and extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Reyes. Did you fly in this morning?”
“Yes,” he replied in English. “I did. It’s always a pleasure to come to Houston, so I take any opportunity that I can. I visit frequently.”
He had no accent, Maya realized suddenly, and then she remembered. He’d been educated in the United States at the University of Miami, the long forgotten detail popping into her head. Renaldo had derided his older brother’s capitalist choice of a business degree.
Patricia responded to Shepard’s charm like a young girl. “Who are your clients, Mr. Reyes?”
Maya wanted to let him dangle, but she couldn’t. Who knew what the man might do? “It’s Sanchez vs. Sanchez,” Maya supplied.
