But nothing could happen to her, not with Rick looking out for her, right? Oh yeah, he’d been a cocky son of a bitch.
And Mary Jo had been killed.
His fault. He hadn’t been able to stop her murder, or protect her, though he’d sworn to both his country and Mary Jo to do exactly that.
Things had gone straight to hell in a handbasket after that. Destroyed, Rick had walked away from all he’d ever known, and spent months aimlessly wandering the globe, looking for trouble and often finding it. He’d finally ended up in Rio. Something about the sinful, wild, pagan city appealed to his troubled soul, and he’d been here ever since.
It had been four years, and thankfully he’d managed to bury those memories for good. Only in the occasional dream was he forced to relive them, and he’d awaken drenched in sweat and tears and remind himself that having no emotions and no heart was the only way to live.
It worked for him, allowed him to be the best bounty hunter there was, because without feelings, no one could touch him. He liked that.
Nina led him out of the ritzy business district and into the ritzy residential district, but as Rick stayed back far enough to remain anonymous, he realized something.
They weren’t alone.
A low-profile sedan followed him following Nina, keeping well back, but definitely on their tail.
Normally, his adrenaline would have kicked in, and so would the thrill of the chase and the highly anticipated victory.
His adrenaline did kick in, but oddly enough not the thrill. He didn’t like the thought of someone else after Nina. It was the damn memories haunting him now, he knew. But he’d gone soft once, and as a result, had lost the dearest thing to him.
That could never happen again since he no longer had a heart, but as he drove through the starlit Rio night, Rick hit the gas pedal with an uneasy urgency.
* * *
THE FIRST THING Nina did inside her condo was lock and double lock her door. She had goose bumps up and down her limbs, and though she could have called any one of her father’s men over to check on her, she felt silly.
The tough, brooding American was long gone, and she was safe.
As always, she raced to check her mail, hoping, praying... Flipping hurriedly through the bills and advertisements, she held her breath.
But no little letter from Baba, her old nanny, as arranged and promised through Terry. No news of her sister at all.
Nina sank to the couch, for once blind to the incredible view of the deep-blue bay spread out before her from floor-to-ceiling windows. She felt sick, and so tense she could have shattered.
Terry, whereever she was, had been sending twice monthly letters through Baba. Those letters said precious little, but they’d been all Nina had, and she’d treasured each one, hoarding it close to her heart for several hours before forcing herself to burn it.
She hadn’t received one in over a month, and every day Nina grew more frantic.
Now there was an American asking around and he had a picture of Terry with a man she’d never seen.
It all combined to tell Nina the truth. Her sister was in trouble, even deeper trouble than being framed for embezzlement and smuggling gems.
Grabbing the phone, praying Rio’s notoriously bad phone service was in order, Nina dialed Baba. She woke the poor woman up, and quickly asked the same question she’d been asking her almost nightly now for weeks.
“Any word?”
“Nada, minha amada.”
Nothing, my sweetheart.
Baba didn’t say more, but she didn’t have to—it was all there in her voice, the fear, the worry. Nina hung up and tried to calm herself, but the feeling of dread continued to intensify. Something had happened, something had gone wrong.
What was she going to do?
The American kept popping into her head. How had he gotten that picture? And what did he want with Terry?
Would he just go away?
She wanted to think so, but despite appearances, she wasn’t that naive. The man had been too focused, too intense for him to simply vanish without getting what he wanted.
And too extraordinary.
That she’d even noticed during those few moments of terror really disturbed her, but there was no denying there’d been something in his gaze, something deep and nearly hidden that had startled her.
Pain.
The realization rocked her, then made her laugh. The man had terrified her. Yet she’d bothered to notice his hidden pain.
She needed help, serious help.
A sound from the kitchen distracted her, and she went still for one second, before grabbing a fire poker from the fireplace she never used.
The only sound now was her own ragged breathing as she tiptoed to the double swinging doors and peeked in.
Nothing.
She’d spooked herself, and just as she let the air out of her lungs, the phone rang, causing her to nearly leap out of her skin. With a hand to her chest, she shook her head at herself and picked up the receiver.
“Nina, the financials are due in the morning.”
The gruff, no-nonsense, no greeting was typical of John Henry. He was second in command of All That Glitters, next to her.
It hadn’t always been that way. Once upon a time, before she and Terry had been old enough to take the reins, John Henry had run the place for their invalid father.
And when their father had deemed the surprisingly business-savvy Terry old enough to take over, he’d removed the job from John Henry without qualm, leaving the fiercely ambitious man reporting to a woman he not so secretly felt was beneath him.
He’d never forgiven any of them for that, and Nina, the only one left to deal with him on a daily basis, got to face the brunt of his attitude. “The financials are complete,” she said, ignoring his silent surprise that she’d done her job. She always did her job, sometimes at the expense of her own happiness, but that he expected her to fail, even wanted her to, hurt. “But thank you for your offer of help.”
He ignored the dry quip. “Everything is good?”
The tall, stern, perpetually frowning man wasn’t asking about her health or her life, she’d learned the hard way. On her first day, John Henry had asked her the same question, and at the thought that she was only there because Terry was dead and buried, she’d burst into tears.
John Henry had simply walked out of her office without a word, coming back when she’d composed herself.
“Everything is perfectly in balance,”
