he walked out of the airport into a flood of heat and honeysuckle-scented air. A short tram ride took him to the rental agency, where he checked out a sturdy Jeep Cherokee.
The drive from the airport to downtown San Antonio took only about fifteen minutes, long enough for Jack to work through his irritation at the call. Not long enough, however, to completely suppress the prickly sensation that crawled along his nerves at the thought of seeing Ellie Alazar again.
His jaw set, he negotiated the traffic in the city’s center and pulled up at the Menger. Constructed in 1859, the hotel was situated on Alamo Plaza, right next to the famous mission. The little blurb Jack had read in one of the airline’s magazines during the flight down indicated the Menger had played host to a roster of distinguished notables. Reportedly, Robert E. Lee rode his horse, Traveller, right into the lobby. Teddy Roosevelt tipped a few in the bar while organizing and training his Rough Riders. Sarah Bernhardt, Lillie Langtry and Mae West had all brought their own brand of luster to the hotel.
Now Elena Maria Alazar was adding another touch of notoriety to the venerable institution. One Jack suspected wasn’t particularly appreciated by the management.
He killed the engine, then climbed out of the Cherokee. A valet took the car keys. Another offered to take his bag.
“I’ve got it.”
Anyone else entering the hotel’s three-story lobby for the first time might have let their gaze roam the cream marble columns, magnificent wrought-iron balcony railings and priceless antiques and paintings. Six years of embassy guard duty and another eight working for OMEGA had conditioned Jack to automatically note the lobby’s physical layout, security camera placement and emergency egress routes. His boot heels echoing on the marble floors, he crossed to the desk. There he was handed a message. Ellie was waiting for him in the taproom.
After the blazing sun outside and dazzling white marble of the lobby, the bar wrapped Jack in the welcoming gloom of an English pub. A dark cherry-wood ceiling loomed above glass-fronted cabinets, beveled mirrors and high-backed booths. A stuffed moose head with a huge rack of antlers surveyed the scene with majestic indifference, wreathed in the mingled scents of wood polish and aged Scotch.
Instinctively, Jack peeled off his sunglasses and recorded the bar’s layout, but the details sifted right through his conscious mind to be stored away for future reference. His main focus, his only focus, was the woman who swiveled at the sound of his footsteps.
His first thought was that she hadn’t changed. Her mink brown hair still tumbled in a loose ponytail down her back. Her cinnamon eyes still looked out at the world through a screen of thick, black lashes. In her short-sleeved red top and trim-fitting tan shorts, she looked more like a teenager on vacation than a respected historian with a long string of initials after her name.
Not until he stepped closer did he notice the differences. The Ellie he’d known nine years ago had glowed with youth and laughter and a vibrant joy of life. This woman showed fine lines of stress at the corners of her mouth. Shadows darkened her eyes, and he saw in their brown depths a wariness that echoed his.
She didn’t smile. Didn’t ease her stiff-backed pose. Silence stretched between them. She broke it, finally, with a cool greeting.
“Hello, Jack.”
He’d expected to feel remnants of the old anger, the resentment, the fierce hurt. He hadn’t expected the punch to his gut that came with the sound of her voice. His head dipped in a curt nod. It was the best he could manage at the moment.
“Thanks for coming,” she said cooly.
He moved closer, wanting her to see his face when he delivered the speech he’d been preparing since Lightning informed him of the nature of his mission.
“Let’s get one thing straight, right here and right now. My job is to protect you. That’s the reason I’m here. That’s the only reason I’m here.”
Her chin snapped up. The fire he remembered all too well flared hot and dark in her eyes.
“I didn’t imagine you’d make the trip down to San Antonio for any other reason. We had our fun, Jack. We both enjoyed our little fling. But that’s all it was. You made that quite clear when you walked away from me nine years ago.”
His jaw tightened. He had no answer for that. There was no answer. Eyes hard, he watched her slide off the bar stool. Her scent came with her as she approached, a combination of sun and the delicate cactus pear perfume she’d always worn. It was her mother’s concoction, he remembered her telling him. He also remembered that he’d been nuzzling her neck at the time. Deliberately, Jack slammed the door on the thought.
When she raised a hand to shove back a loose tendril of hair, however, the gleam of silver circling her wrist brought another, sharper memory. The two-inch-wide beaten silver bracelet had cost him a half-month’s pay. He’d slipped it onto her wrist mere moments before her uncle’s police had arrived to arrest him.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he instructed tersely. “I want to see the message your friend left you.”
Chapter 2
Wrapping her arms around her middle, Ellie stood just inside the door of the trashed suite.
“I moved to another room. The hotel wanted to clean up the mess, but I asked them to leave it until you got here.”
His face impassive, Jack surveyed the mess. “Did the police find anything?”
“They dusted for prints, interviewed the hotel staff and asked for a complete inventory of the missing items, but as far as I know, they haven’t come up with any concrete leads. In fact…”
“In fact?”
Her shoulders lifted under the chili red top. “The detective in charge was somewhat less than sympathetic. Evidently he read the story about me in the Light and doesn’t take kindly to Mexicans determined to rewrite Texas history. It doesn’t seem to make a whole lot of difference to some folks that I’m as American as they are.”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
Jack had seen more than his share of bigotry during his overseas tours, both in the Marines and as an OMEGA agent. It didn’t matter what a person’s race, creed or financial circumstances might be. There was always someone who hated him or her because of them. With a mental note to establish liaison with the detective handling Ellie’s case as soon as he conducted his preliminary assessment of the situation, he eyed the message on the mirror.
The wording suggested a man, someone familiar with weapons and not afraid to let Ellie know it. The obvious inference was that the threat stemmed from her work. Jack never trusted the obvious.
“I want a complete background brief on the members on your team,” he told her, making a final sweep of the premises. “Particularly anyone who might or might not have a grudge against the team’s leader.”
Startled, she dropped her arms. “You think one of my own people is responsible for this?”
“I don’t think anything at this point. I’m just assessing the situation.”
Her eyes huge, she stared at him. Jack could see the doubt creep into their cinnamon brown depths, followed swiftly by dismay. Only now, he guessed, was it occurring to her that the leak to
