the helmet straps with frozen fingers gave Zach an opportunity to observe his host. Castillo was a bit greyer at the temples, a bit thicker at the middle but he cut no less an impressive and inherently dangerous figure. He looked more like a drug lord thug than an international businessman. Or maybe that’s because Zach knew his history. Blunt workingman’s fingers tapped impatiently upon the weave of his Italian made slacks but Castillo was more than merely restless with the wait. Zach could sense his uncertainty and nervousness. Not much worried someone of Castillo’s stature, a man who had an entourage paid to fret over details for him. So that meant whatever reason he had for summoning someone for whom he had no respect was personal and threatening enough to want someone outside his organization. Why else would he be standing outside in the cold to greet the man he’d once tried to crush?
“I pride myself on punctuality. Shall we get to the point of your invitation?”
He saw it then, the intense dislike Castillo harbored for him. It passed briefly across his expression before he gestured to the front door.
Step into my parlor.
What was he up to?
The foyer of the Castillo estate was meant to impress with its massive scale. The vaulted ceiling soared overhead, revealing heavy beams and an impressive chandelier. The tiled floor, ornately carved woodwork and plastered walls all aspired to an Old World feel, but to Zach, who’d grown up steeped in that Old World tradition, the setting was like Castillo, an artificial facade of respectability imitating something it wasn’t.
What was impressive was the vista spread out before him. From the foyer, several steps led down into the living room and a wall of windows capped by fanciful stained glass designs. The breathtaking view of the lake was un-obstructed except for a sight even more amazing. The lithe, leather-clad figure of Antonia Castillo where she stood looking out upon that bleak winterscape. The four color photos hadn’t done her justice. As a connoisseur of fine things, he knew a masterpiece when he beheld one. And she was a work of art.
Her dark hair hung down in a heavy braid, leaving her chiseled profile unencumbered. Hers was a lush, savage beauty like the lake beyond, all strong facial angles, slanting cat’s eyes and those pillowy lips that pouted and provoked a man beyond reason. The leather glazed her long legs and fit her tight backside the way a man’s palms itched to. She’d taken off the jacket. Beneath it, she wore a snug white top with thin spaghetti straps. Atop her sleek, willowy build, the bold, gravity-defying fullness of her breasts within that thin stretch of cotton knit was another marvel to behold. When she turned toward him, her chin notched up and her shoulders back, thrusting out her chest with all the challenge of twin nuclear warheads. Fascinating yet deadly.
Of course, she meant for him to look. What man could help himself? So he did, staring at that awe-inspiring bounty with a cool detachment of someone in an art gallery.
“Antonia,” her father barked. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
“I meant to, Father.”
At least she was honest in her intentions.
“Put on something decent.”
“Why?” she challenged with a higher tip of her chin. “Mr. Russell is hardly a guest. And it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.”
“Antonia!” Red-faced, Castillo turned to Zach. “I apologize for my daughter. She has no manners.”
Zach remained carefully stoic. It wasn’t his job to teach them to her.
Castillo glared at the defiant young woman. His tone was soft and furious. “Go make yourself presentable then join us in the study.”
Realizing she had taken her point as far as she dared, Antonia pivoted on those high, high heels and swiftly stalked from the room.
“She forgets herself,” came Castillo’s almost weary apology. “She’s had no one to control her since her mother died.”
Zach waited impassively. Castillo wasn’t interested in any comment he might make on his domestic situation. Finally, when the older man continued to gaze distractedly through the doorway his daughter had taken, Zach cleared his throat.
“Why am I here? Jack Chaney said you asked for me specifically. Why? I wasn’t aware you held any particular fondness for me or my talents.”
Castillo’s stare cut through him like a surgeon’s blade. “I don’t. But unfortunately, my daughter does. She’s the reason you’re here. She seems to think you’re the only one who can keep her alive.”
Chapter 2
“There have been threats.”
“To the family or to the business?” Zach asked as he settled into a stiff brocaded chair on the opposite side of Castillo’s cluttered office desk. He noticed a photo of his wife and daughter, a nice black and white showing mother with preschool-aged child as well as a glamorous color portrait of Mercedes Castillo, but no recent picture of Antonia.
“Both.”
“Any particular reason?”
Castillo frowned, taking Zach’s nonchalant tone to mean there were so many, he could take his pick. “We’re in negotiations to move Aletta’s manufacturing and distribution plants to Mexico. The Union is trying to block the move, but what can they do?”
“Make threats?”
“Perhaps.”
“How many workers will lose their jobs?”
“Among the five plants, about seven thousand. But they’ll be given severance packages. It’s not as if they’re being thrown out onto the streets without warning.”
“That’s generous of you.”
Castillo’s expression tightened at the drawled sarcasm. “It’s business. It’s more than I’m required to do for them. I can’t expect someone like you to understand the economic difficulties of staying competitive in the United States. The only feasible way to continue at a profit is to move production below the border.”
“I’m sure the thought of a few million more a year for their summer homes motivated the board of directors to make that decision.”
“It is my decision, at least until tomorrow night.”
“And then?”
“And then,” intruded a low female voice, “it becomes Antonia’s.”
Zach rose to greet the stunning woman who entered. Dressed in a severely tailored suit, she was tall, voluptuous and cold as ice, from her chilly tone to her glacial stare. He recognized but couldn’t place her.
“Mr. Russell, do you remember Veta Chavez, Antonia’s companion?”
The term companion threw him for a moment, then he recalled. “Your father was in charge of security.”
“Yes. He’s retired. I’m in charge of Antonia now.”
He lifted a brow. “Not an enviable task.”
She rebuked him
