“And you had a knack for computers.”
“I miss our friendship, Chase. I hope we can stay in touch.”
“We’ll make a point of it. When things settle down, we’ll pick a date, spend a few days out at the ranch.”
“That’d be great.” Michael didn’t ask Chase’s intentions toward his sister. He wasn’t sure he approved. Chase had always had a legion of women. Until now, he’d kept his distance from Harper. But they had spent last night together, and he didn’t think they had slept in separate rooms.
Time would tell.
In the meantime, Michael had problems of his own.
Night settled around the sprawling Spanish-style villa on forty acres of tropical hillside overlooking Santa Marta and the sea.
In his huge oak-paneled study, Luis Montoya sat in front of the hearth, drinking a glass of Napoleon brandy from a Baccarat crystal snifter. So far the expensive alcohol had done nothing to improve his mood.
“I’ll find him.” Joining him in the drink, hissegundo, Eduardo Ramos, shifted in the burgundy wingback chair across from him. “I’ll have Michael Winston brought back for you to deal with as you wish.”
Ramos was the man he relied on for everything from flowers for his mistress to disciplining an insubordinate employee. What Ramos didn’t handle personally, he delegated with ultimate authority, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do.
Luis set the snifter down on the ornate table next to his chair. “I don’t want him back. It’s clear Winston’s son means little or nothing to him. It’s the girl I want. She killed my cousin.” His hand slammed down on the rolled arm of the chair. “I want Benito avenged!”
Luis calmed himself. He had a volatile temper. He was a solid man, not obese but at least thirty pounds overweight. It wasn’t good for his heart to get too excited. “Once we have her, we’ll find out if the girl is worth something to Winston.”
“Ransom?”
“Perhaps. According to the information I received from our friends in Punta Gato, the girl is quite a beauty. Perhaps I’ll enjoy her myself. If Winston meets our terms, we’ll return her—broken and dishonored. That should send a message and tell him what will happen should he try to go against me again.”
The edge of a smile curved Eduardo’s thin lips. With his pockmarked complexion and hawklike nose, he was not a handsome man. But he was smart, cunning and ruthless, perfect for Luis’s needs.
“As always,mi jefe, you have devised the perfect plan.”
Luis took a sip of his brandy. “In the meantime, we’ll resume our business relationship. Winston wishes to continue as we were before, and I see no reason not to. We will make money, and once we have the girl, we will also have control.”
Ramos smiled. He took a last drink of brandy, finishing off his glass, and set the snifter down. “I shall begin making inquiries. It may take a while, but in time, my men and I will succeed and the girl will be yours.”
Luis watched Ramos walk out of his study. Luis wasn’t usually a patient man, but some things were worth the wait. In the meantime, he would return to business as usual—at least for a while. Luis never wasted an opportunity to make money.
But sooner or later, Winston would pay—of that there was no doubt.
Rising from the chair, he walked over to his oak desk, sat down and turned on the computer resting on the credenza behind it. It didn’t take long to find his quarry. Harper Winston, co-owner of Elemental Chic, some kind of clothing company. There was a photo of the girl on the webpage. Tall and slender, with long blond hair and big blue eyes.
His shaft thickened as he began to go hard. He stroked a hand over the zipper of his slacks. Pulling out his cell, he phoned his mistress. Lupita would do for now, relieve some of the frustration he’d been feeling since news of Michael Winston’s escape and his cousin’s death had reached him.
Soon he would have the girl. He would take her, use her a dozen different ways.
He found himself smiling. Yes...there were times Luis could be a very patient man.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Two days had passed since Chase’s return to Dallas. Two days since he had last seen Harper or had any contact. When the Garrett Resources Citation CJ4 had touched down at Dallas Executive Airport, Chase’s insanely efficient brother Reese had a black stretch limousine waiting.
Reggie Porter had sat behind the wheel, a big, beefy African American former army ranger who owned the car and often drove for one Garrett brother or another. Since Brandon’s black hardtop Jeep Wrangler waited in the parking lot where he had left it, he hadn’t needed a ride.
Harper had walked over to Bran to say goodbye. “Thank you for everything.” Sliding her arms around his neck, she’d hugged him. Bran had hugged her back a little longer than necessary, winked at Chase and grinned.
“It was my pleasure,” Bran had said. With a final wave at Chase, he turned and sauntered off toward the parking lot.
“Let’s get you home.” Chase had settled Harper in the backseat of the limo, slid in beside her and closed the door. Reggie started the engine and pushed the button to put up the partition, giving them privacy, and drove the limo out of the terminal, heading for Harper’s town house.
