The Searchers. Kay David

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      Maya started to answer but Shepard turned to Patricia, his expression so sincere and polite, Maya found herself gritting her teeth. “Señorita Velaquez and I were about to go out for coffee,” he interjected. “Why don’t you come with us and I’ll explain the situation in detail. I’m sure you’d like to hear all about it.” His eyes came back to Maya’s. “It’s a fascinating story, don’t you agree Ms. Velaquez?”

      The threat was obvious.

      Maya held her breath until Patricia shook her head, a regretful frown on her face. “Nothing I’d like better, but at the moment, I can’t. I have to deal with a fieri facias. We represent a CEO who’s on the hot seat right now, and I need to return to his problems.” She looked back at Maya. “That’s why I’m here, bothering you in the first place. You wouldn’t have the Andrews file, would you?”

      “It’s on my secretary’s desk, waiting to be filed.” Seeing a way out, Maya took a step forward. “I’ll go get it for you—”

      “No, no…” Patricia held up her hand and cut off Maya’s escape. “I can find it. You two go get your coffee, but keep me updated, Maya. Your case sounds much more interesting.” Shaking Shepard’s hand once more, she nodded to Maya and left.

      Shepard inclined his head toward the hallway, his dark eyes steady and unperturbed as he held out his hand, the one still holding the umbrella. It dripped silently on the rug.

      “Shall we go?” he asked. “I have a rental car out front.”

      Maya felt her stomach clench at the way he’d manipulated her, but considering the choices—and his less than subtle threat—leaving the office was probably safer, at least for her reputation.

      “I’ll take my car and you take yours,” she said tightly. “I drive a white Volvo. When you see me pull out of the parking lot, you can follow.”

      Brushing past him, she headed down the hall without waiting to hear his reply.

      SHE’D KNOWN he wasn’t Renaldo.

      Renaldo was dead.

      But it’d taken her heart a moment longer than her brain to remember that fact. When she’d looked up and seen Shepard Reyes in the doorway, the past had rushed in with him. He had the same smoldering look, the same glittering eyes, the same arrogant air of the man who’d become her lover when she’d been fifteen.

      Her life before she came to the States seemed to have happened to another person. In fact, it came to her almost as a movie, the scenes something she felt she’d witnessed, instead of experienced.

      Driving toward Montrose with Shepard Reyes behind her, Maya let the memories flood her, the difference between the two brothers coming into sharp relief.

      Renaldo had been twenty-two when he died so Shepard had to be forty-five. Renaldo had been sleek and quick, a shadow who had lived in the darkness. Shepard seemed just the opposite—his presence couldn’t be ignored. He was taller and heavier than Renaldo would have ever been, his shoulders broad beneath his expensive suit, his black eyes more focused.

      And he was, Maya suspected all at once, much, much more dangerous.

      She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could handle this man and his threats, she told herself. Shepard Reyes and all he represented meant nothing to her and she’d be silly to let him rattle her. His demands had frightened her but they were meaningless—as long as he wanted something from her, which he clearly did.

      Which brought her to the next question.

      Just what in the hell did he want?

      She exited the freeway and turned right, going beneath the underpass. In any other section of Houston, the streets would have been full of commuters heading to work but not here. The off-beat haven of the artistic and gay communities, Montrose never shut down. Slowing as she reached the main commercial area, Maya passed a tattoo place with three people already in the chairs, a group of twenty-somethings spilling out of the latest trendy diner and a beautifully decorated pocket park, maintained, a sign on the sidewalk said, by the Houston Gay Men’s Choir. After a moment, she spotted her destination, directly across from the park.

      She’d been to the outre coffee shop a few months before to meet a blind date. The guy had been a disaster, but she’d liked the place, probably because it wasn’t the kind of restaurant she normally visited…which was exactly why she’d come here now. Most of the lawyers she knew would abandon their Beemers in the middle of Interstate 10 before they’d be caught in the Jumped-Up Java Bar. She parked then climbed from her car and locked it. Her eyes went to the townhouses under construction across the street. Despite its eccentricity, the area was growing. To buy a home in Montrose, you needed a fortune.

      But a very small one…compared to that of the Reyes clan.

      They owned half of Colombia, the half that held the emerald mines, and their power was unquestionable. Renaldo had turned away from a future filled with ease and luxury when he’d taken up la causa. He’d been foolish, of course. If he’d wanted a better life for those less fortunate, he should have worked with the wealth of his family to bring that about. But he’d been too young and foolish to see that.

      And she’d been too young and in love to see beyond him.

      Shepard Reyes pulled his rental car into the empty spot where she waited, their eyes meeting through the windshield. A sinking sensation assaulted her; the past was about to catch up with her.

      SHEPARD REYES WAS a bastard, but he didn’t care.

      He’d come to Houston for answers and he was prepared to do whatever it took to get them.

      Following Maya to a small café, he held open the door and they went in, Maya leading him to a table in the very back. They gave their orders to a young girl who sported three eyebrow rings and a snake tattoo on her neck.

      Just as she stepped away from their table, the bell above the front door rang loudly. Maya’s gaze shot over Shepard’s shoulder and he took the moment to study her without her knowledge. She wore a business suit the color of café au lait and a dark silk blouse beneath it. The fabric shimmered in the harsh overhead lights but not as much as her hair. The thick, shining mass was pulled into a severe bun, and he suspected she wanted to disguise its beauty for some reason.

      The thought was ridiculous, he told himself, but the fact that he had it in the first place was even more outrageous. Why did he care? Shifting in his seat, he followed Maya’s stare, taking in the two people who’d entered. They were dressed in the same nondescript clothing their server wore and seemed to favor the same body jewelry. One had pink hair and the other had blue.

      Shepard turned back to the woman across the table from him. “Is this where all the important attorneys in Houston come for coffee?”

      Unamused, she stared at him with a sudden and heated directness, her answer as obvious as his question. “I brought you here so no one I care about would see us. I don’t know what you want, Mr. Reyes, but I’d just as soon we do this fast—”

      “Por favor, call me Shepard.”

      She put her elbows on the table and leaned toward him. Anyone seeing them might think they were lovers reluctant to part, sharing one last intimate moment before leaving reluctantly.

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