And then he was all surprised that she'd fallen in love with him. Men.

He helped the dress off her. She let her arms drop, didn't try to hide herself from him.

Others had told her before that she was pretty or beautiful. He didn't.

He gave a strangled laugh. "I'm so hard, I'm going to embarra.s.s myself any second now, and I'm still thinking you're too innocent to touch the way I want, that I have no right to put my hands on you-"

She slipped out of her bra, then took his hands and put them on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

He ran his thumbs lightly over her nipples. The sudden pleasure was so overwhelming, she let her head drop back and arched her spine, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressing into his touch.

He gave another strangled laugh. "Maybe we should put your top back on. I don't know how long I'm going to last like this."

She rocked against him.

"We should take this slow," he rasped.

She looked at him. "Could we take your clothes off?"

He was watching her as if she was some kind of miracle. "Yeah. Sure."

He let her go, moved out from under her long enough to strip. She lay down on the bed and watched him, her body clamoring for him to return to her.

He lay down next to her on top of the covers.

She kissed his collarbone and let her hands explore the wide expanse of his chest. She was enjoying this, just playing, so much more than she'd expected.

But soon an urgency overtook her, and both of them grew more serious, needing, wanting, then finally, joining. And then the pleasure built inside her into a giant wave, like rainwater rushing down from the jungle, and the water broke over her like a river, floated her into bliss.

Afterward, she lay soaked in happiness, tucked into his arms.

He kissed the top of her head. "Are you crying?"

She reached up to touch her cheek, felt moisture on her skin.

Ian came up on his elbow to look at her, worry in his gaze. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head. "It was amazing. Beautiful, and a lot more than I imagined. I want to do it every day."

He gave a quick bark of a laugh. "I might grow old eventually."

"I want us to grow old together," she said.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, then whispered against her lips, "We will."

Several minutes later, as she lay with her head on his shoulder again, she said, "You're right. I'm a new woman. But you're a new man too. You're not the angry, drinking Ian that you were after Linda."

She expected him to shut down the conversation, but he said, "I'm still angry over Linda and the boys. I shouldn't have left her. I didn't understand that she was feeling so bad. I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself for not grasping that. And I don't know if I'll ever forgive her."

His chest rose as he drew a deep breath. "You know, the VA sent me to a rehab place once. Hope Hill. It's in a small town in Pennsylvania. First day there, my counselor looked me in the eye and said that I was an alcoholic with anger management issues and self-destructive tendencies."

Daniela pressed tighter against him, holding on to him.

Ian said, "So the guy asks me, 'What do you think about that, Slaney?'"

Ian snorted. "I told him I was thinking about how much trouble I'd get into for punching him in the face." He paused. "So then the guy says, 'Oh wonderful.' I swear, he looked happy. 'You consider the consequences of your actions. You didn't act on your impulse. You just considered it. Very well done.'" Ian paused again. "I couldn't tell if he was really smart or too stupid to live. I checked myself out and came back to DC."

"I've always known you to be a good man," Daniela told him.

"You probably have some mosquito-borne disease that makes you completely biased and blind to my faults. There's no end to the weird s.h.i.t a person can catch in the Amazon." He rubbed her shoulder with the pad of his thumb.

She smiled against his warm skin. "I don't think I've ever felt this safe, or this happy."

She wiggled up, reversed their positions, maneuvered him so that his head was on her shoulder as she held him. "I want you to feel the same way." She kissed the top of his head. "Do I make you feel safe?"

"Safe...other things..." His voice grew distracted, his lips brushing against the side of her breast as they moved with the words. "It's all good. Believe me."

Eduardo Eduardo watched Ian drive the woman to a different apartment, kiss her before he dropped her off.

Not the maid but his lover.

Eduardo smiled. So much better this way. This way, before Ian was killed, he could experience the grief of losing someone he loved.

As Ian pulled away, into traffic, Eduardo parked by the curb in the freed-up s.p.a.ce and watched the woman float to the apartment building's front door. She radiated happiness. Ian Slaney must have done something right this morning.

She looked Brazilian, might even have some Baniwa blood in her-a little familiar, but Eduardo couldn't think when or where he might have met her.

He was prepared to wait all day, but she came out two hours later.

She'd changed her clothes, carried nothing but a small purse. She paused for a moment in the open door, and an old memory clicked into place in Eduardo's brain. Finch's wh.o.r.e.

She looked a little older and a lot more sophisticated, a lot more sure of herself, but she was definitely the girl Eduardo had talked to when he'd first gone to Santana to find Finch. He remembered her now.

Eduardo scrambled to process the implications. Would she recognize him? He was older too. He'd gone gray after Marcos's death. He didn't have his goatee anymore. Age had weakened his eyes, so he was now wearing gla.s.ses. He'd put on a few pounds, which had changed his face, added the infernal jowls he hated.

The woman was on the move. Eduardo had no time to hesitate. He would just have to risk it.

She walked with a smile and a bounce, looked like a woman in love. All was well in her world. Eduardo counted on that cloud of happiness to dim her instincts.

He started the car and drove ahead, turned into the alleyway between two apartment buildings. He parked the car about three meters in, got out and went around, opened the trunk. When from the corner of his eye he saw the woman pa.s.s behind him, he made a production of leaning into the trunk, pulling back, swearing in Portuguese.

She stopped on the sidewalk.

He turned. Flashed her a self-depreciating smile. "Almost pitched headfirst into the trunk. I can't put weight on this leg. Just had...como se diz...knee replacement."

She stepped closer. "Let me help," she said in Portuguese. "Are you from Brazil?"

"So Paulo." He nodded toward the suitcase in the back and switched to Portuguese too. "Came up to see my brother. Something's still wrong with this knee." He tapped his left leg. "My brother knows a surgeon here who's willing to give it a look."

She leaned in for his suitcase, looked back over her shoulder with a smile, maybe to tell him that she too was Brazilian. Her mouth froze half-open. Her eyes narrowed for a second, then flashed with recognition. And then she moved, fast, but not as fast as the Taser.

Zwak!

She toppled into the trunk, twitching for just a second or two before she went limp.

He scooped in her legs, then slammed down the lid. The next second, he was behind the wheel. The second after that, they were gone.

"For you, Marcos," Eduardo said as he drove down the boulevard. "I will avenge you. I am a good brother."

He had the bait. Now he just had to set the trap.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Ian Ian whistled as he walked to his car. Okay, maybe he swaggered more than he walked. His phone pinged with a text message from Daniela.

And the next instant, the bubble of happiness popped. The goofy-a.s.s grin he'd been wearing all morning slid off his face as he read the screen.

The first text was an address, followed by, Come alone or the girl dies.

He dialed her immediately. The call rang and rang, but she didn't pick up. This was not something she would joke with. Not her. She'd been in plenty of danger; she wouldn't make a game of it. She didn't think danger was fun, like someone who'd had a safe life and played with danger for adrenaline. She didn't even like roller coasters.

Worry gutted him in an instant, cutting him to shreds. Hot fury built him back up. n.o.body was going to touch Daniela. n.o.body.

He slammed into his car, put the address into the GPS, and peeled out of the gas station.

Who would take her?

She hadn't been taken for money. Ian didn't have any. He'd spent his saved-up combat pay on Daniela's college tuition. He'd donated Linda's life insurance to an organization that helped young mothers with postpartum depression.

She'd been taken by someone who wanted to hurt Ian. Maybe even by someone who wanted to hurt her too.

His mind raced.

The only case they'd worked together had been Lila Heyerdahl's in Brazil. Another kidnapping. But Ian shook his head even as he thought of Carol and Essie-both in prison.

Marcos Morais was dead.

Because his father was so high profile, Marcos's death had made the Brazilian news. Ian had kept track.

But Goat Man? Since Ian never knew his name, he couldn't be certain what happened to him, couldn't follow up.

Ian had a feeling he was about to meet the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Acid bubbled in his stomach at the thought that Daniela had met him already.

In twenty minutes, he was in one of the worst neighborhoods of the city: graffiti, broken windows, cracked sidewalks overgrown with weeds, abandoned houses.

The GPS led him to a boarded-up store.

Padlocked front. He went around and checked the back, found a window that had been busted.

He cursed himself for not having his gun, but he'd only run out to pick up flowers for Daniela, stopped to put gas in his car on the way.

At least he had Finch's pocketknife. At a minimum, Ian always carried a knife and a lighter, basic emergency preparedness he'd kept up from his army days. He pulled the knife, opened it, had the blade ready, but hidden by his side.

The sun blinded him, reflecting off the whitewashed bricks. The inside of the building gaped dark. He peered in through the broken window, keeping his body to the side, in cover. Looming shadows waited in there, a bunch of dusty shelving.

Whoever hid inside would be able to easily see Ian's head outlined against the light. Could shoot him if he wanted. He had to be standing ready, had to have heard Ian pull up in the front. No element of surprise.

So Ian called in, "Whatever you want from me, I'll give it to you. Just let her go right now."

And a heavily accented voice called out, "Come in."

The voice came maybe a few feet from the window, to Ian's left, from behind tall shelving draped with plastic.

Ian stepped in but didn't stop. He ducked and rolled in the opposite direction, and as he heard something crackle and buzz by him, he pushed to his feet the next second in a fight-ready stance.

He smelled mold and dust and rats.

He could see the guy now, around five-eight, thick waist. The Taser in his hand would take time to recharge.

Ian took the opportunity and lunged forward.

The little b.a.s.t.a.r.d was fast. He skittered back and knocked a shelf over, right on top of Ian. By the time Ian fought through that obstacle, the man had disappeared.

Too much tall shelving and other furniture cluttered the room, too dark to see.

"Daniela!" Ian shouted.

But instead of Daniela, the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d responded, "I have her gagged. But I'm going to take the gag out now, so when I cut her, you can hear her scream."

Ian eased toward the voice as quickly and quietly as he could. "Why?"

His eyes were adjusting to the lack of light at last, so he avoided tripping over a wooden crate.

"For Marcos Morais, my brother."

Somewhere ahead and to the right, Daniela gave a m.u.f.fled, pained groan, as if she'd been hurt but was refusing to scream.

"If you hurt her," Ian called out, "so help me G.o.d, what I'll do to you will make your brother's death look like a picnic."

"Such love, and for a puta like her," the man mocked. "Love her enough to take her place?"