Determined to Protect, Forbidden to Love: Ramirez's Woman / Her Royal Bodyguard / Protecting the Princess. BEVERLY BARTON

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      It was a difficult question. One to which she had no answer. What would she do, if she were in Miguel’s shoes? What if a family member’s life or the life of a friend hung in the balance, and she alone had the power to decide their fate?

      “You can give the people the right to choose for themselves.” She paused, then looked him right in the eye. “I would definitely wait until I had all the facts, then if what we suspect is true, I would take this information to the people it concerns the most. Put their fate in their own hands. Speak with your family, closest friends and most avid supporters first and ask them what they want you to do. Then, if and when circumstances warrant it, go directly to the people in a radio or television broadcast.”

      The corners of his lips lifted in a half-hearted smile. “You are a very wise woman for one so young.”

      “Thank you.” Everything in her longed to comfort Miguel. It was all she could do to stop herself from wrapping her arms around him and telling him she would make everything all right for him.

      When the closed chapel door opened, J.J. shifted in her seat so she could glance over her shoulder. She nudged Miguel. “It’s Dr. Esteban.”

      Miguel shot to his feet, still clasping her hand and inadvertently dragging her up with him. “Please, tell me you have good news.”

      “I have good news,” Juan said. “Several of the patients are severely dehydrated and they will all be sore from the retching, but it appears all fifteen will recover completely. Probably by tomorrow morning.”

      “Thank God.” Miguel grabbed J.J. and hugged her fiercely.

      She threw her arms around his neck and laughed when he lifted her off her feet.

      “Take him home, Señorita Blair,” Juan said. “See to it that he gets a good night’s rest.”

      “Yes, thank you, doctor, I’ll do just that.”

      Juan nodded. “I must return to my patients.”

      “I will call first thing tomorrow to check on everyone,” Miguel said as he set J.J. back on her feet.

      “Come on, let’s follow doctor’s orders.” J.J. tugged on Miguel’s hand.

      Just as they exited the chapel and had walked no more than ten feet, Dom came around the corner.

      “Emilio told me he thought I could find you two in the chapel,” Dom said.

      “Have you heard the good news?” J.J. asked.

      “Yes, just before I showed up, Dr. Esteban had informed Emilio and Roberto that everyone was going to live.”

      “Do you have any news for us about the food?” Miguel asked.

      Dom shook his head. “It will be tomorrow sometime before we know anything for sure. Will Pierce will call me as soon as his people know anything. They took samples of all the food at Casimiro’s buffet table before the police arrived.”

      “Good. Good.” Miguel clenched his jaw.

      “You don’t trust the police?” J.J. asked.

      “Some of them, I do. But many of the higher-ranking officials here in Nava are loyal to Padilla. They are, how do you say it in America? On his payroll.”

      “Then one of your first official acts as president should be to clean house in the police department here in the capital city.” J.J. glanced at Dom. “Are there any reporters downstairs?”

      “Hordes,” Dom replied. “That’s why I had Carlos take the limo around to the back entrance to wait for us.”

      “Shouldn’t I make some kind of statement tonight?” Miguel asked.

      “Let Emilio or Roberto make it for you,” J.J. said. “Have them say that you are well and greatly relieved that all those who got food poisoning at the dinner party are going to be all right. Leave it at that. For now.”

      Miguel put his arm around her shoulders. “You are quite adept at public relations, querida. You would make a most admirable first lady.”

      Dom lifted his eyebrows speculatively, the expression on his face clearly asking if there was something intimate going on between her and Miguel. She chose to pretend she hadn’t noticed that inquiring look.

      “What are you doing here?”

      Diego was furious. She knew he would be, but she did not give a damn. Within a few minutes of learning that fifteen people had been poisoned at Anton Casimiro’s dinner party, Gala had begun feeling guilty. Although she hadn’t known that the vial hidden in her designer handbag had been filled with poison, she had suspected as much. What she hadn’t suspected was that whoever had retrieved the vial from her purse had used it to doctor one of the food items at the buffet table. She had assumed it would be used in Miguel Ramirez’s champagne. Not caring what political party ruled Mocorito, what did it matter to her if Diego and his friends eliminated the Nationalist Party’s candidate? But poisoning fifteen people was something else. If they had died, it would have been mass murder.

      “I came to tell you that I will not do any more of your dirty work.” Gala glared at Diego. Even though she was still afraid of him and the power he held over her, the liquor she had consumed before coming to his home had infused her with false bravado.

      “Lower your voice.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her with him into the front parlor. After flipping on a lamp, he shoved her into the nearest chair and came down over her, bracing his hands on either armrest. “My mother and sister are upstairs asleep and several of the servants are still up and stirring in the back of the house.”

      “You should have told me that you planned to poison innocent people. I would never have helped you do such a despicable thing.”

      Diego laughed, then put his face up to hers. “No one died from the poison. Killing innocent people was not our goal. We simply wanted, once again, to show Miguel that he cannot protect his friends, family and supporters.”

      “And if convincing him that your people can harm those he cares about does not stop him, what will you do then?” she asked. “You should kill him. Hire another assassin. Don’t harm innocent people.”

      “We do not want Ramirez dead,” Diego told her. “Killing him would be a last resort. If he is killed, the people could turn him into a martyr and revolt. No, we cannot risk that. What we want is for Ramirez to withdraw from the presidential election.”

      “Why did you wait until only weeks before the election to—”

      “Not until recently did we realize there was a chance he could win,” Diego replied. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Go home and sober up. And do not ever come back here telling me that you will no longer obey my orders. Have you forgotten that I could send you to prison, just like that?” He snapped his fingers.

      “No, I have not forgotten.” Tears sprang into her eyes.

      He released his painful hold on her shoulders and yanked her to her feet. Their gazes connected for a brief moment and she thought she saw a hint of СКАЧАТЬ