In the Arms of a Hero

He’d had a few dalliances with the debutante sort, and had found most of those ladies a little cool for his liking. He preferred the more earthy types, the ones who knew how to give as well as take. Maybe that’s what appealed to him about Victoria. Despite her heiress status, she was obviously a giver and not a taker.

“What are you staring at?” When she frowned, her small, perfect nose crinkled slightly.

“At you, princess.”

Squaring her shoulders, she sat upright in the chair and glared disapprovingly at him. “I appreciate all you’ve done here today, but if you think hanging around helping out will change my mind about leaving Palmira—”

“Here’s your coffee.” Dolores entered the office, then handed Quinn a cracked mug filled with steaming black liquid. She glanced at Quinn and then at Victoria. “Stay in here and rest for a while, señorita. We have things under control for the time being.” She left the office and closed the door behind her.

“I’ve got something for you.” Quinn reached inside his shirt pocket, pulled out a letter and handed it to Victoria.

“What’s this?”

“A letter from your father.”

She made no move to open the envelope, just sat there for several minutes staring at it. “I’m not sure I want to read this. My father can be a very persuasive man.”

“Don’t you think you owe him that much? The man has already paid me a quarter of a million dollars to come after you. That tells me your safety is worth more to him than anything.”

“Of course, you’re right. I have to read it.” She ripped open the envelope, removed the one-page missive and unfolded the handwritten letter.

My dearest Victoria,

I know you do not want to leave Santo Bonisto, that you feel you will be abandoning the people of Palmira when they need you the most. But you must know that your life is in danger from the rebel forces. Being an American puts you at risk. Being my daughter is a death sentence.

I have hired a man, Quinn McCoy, whom my security chief, Sam Waterman, assures me is the best there is at what he does. Please, go with Mr. McCoy. Let him bring you safely home to me. To your family.

You may think we don’t need you, but we do. Now more than ever. Lily’s trial date has been set. I cannot believe that she was ever arrested for murder, not my sweet, gentle Lily. I try to hide my worry from her and from the family, but the situation doesn’t look good. The media is having a heyday with the situation saying horrible things about my lover murdering my wife. If these vultures had known your stepmother the way we did, they wouldn’t make her out to be the wronged wife.

Even Matthew and Claudia have put aside their differences in order to lend their united support. Your brother and sister-in-law have suffered greatly since their precious little Bryan was kidnapped and I pray that, despite everything, they can save their marriage. After all that your family has endured during these past months, don’t you think we have all suffered enough? I cannot bear the thought of losing you. Don’t add to my torment. Come home where you belong. Home where you are needed.

I love you,

Daddy

Her father knew all the right buttons to push. He knew her weaknesses. More than anything, she wanted to be needed, to help those who suffered as her mother Janine had suffered during her long, agonized bout with cancer. Victoria had been a child—only twelve—when her mother had died, but she had vowed then and there that she would dedicate her life to alleviating the suffering of others. She hadn’t been able to save her mother, but her mission in life was to save as many lives as possible.

Now her family was suffering—not physical pain, but a mental torment that seemed to be spreading like wildfire, affecting one person after another. The kidnapping of her nephew Bryan. The breakup of her brother Matthew’s marriage. The death of her wicked stepmother Sophia. The arrest of Lily, the woman her father loved.

Her father was right. Her family did need her. Her father needed her. She should go home!

But how could she leave Palmira? She had made a commitment to these people. They were counting on her. If she left with Quinn McCoy, there would be no medically trained person at the clinic. People would surely die without her.

But if I stay here, I could very well end up dead, she reminded herself.

Quinn watched the play of emotions on Victoria’s face and knew she was torn between doing what her father asked and fulfilling her duty to the people of Palmira. If she agreed to her father’s request, it sure as hell would make his job a lot easier. He didn’t like the idea of having to force the woman to go with him. But if kidnapping her was the only way to get the job done, then that’s what he’d do.

“Do you know what the letter says?” Victoria asked.

“No,” Quinn said. “Sam Waterman gave me the letter sealed. But I figure your father asked you to come home and told you that your family needed you right now.”

“He wants me to go along nicely with you, to put my life and the needs of my family first.” Victoria tossed the letter on the scarred, wobbly desk as she shoved back her chair. She stood, then began pacing back and forth in the 10’ x 10’ room.

“His request doesn’t sound unreasonable to me.” Quinn’s gut instinct told him that she was in the process of talking herself out of leaving Palmira, despite her father’s pleas. “You’ve got to know that by staying here, you’re signing your own death warrant.”

“Possibly,” she agreed. “But if I leave with you today, how many people will die because I’m not here to save them? Is my life worth the lives of countless others?”

Quinn released a loud huff, then rubbed his forehead as he chuckled. Damn stupid do-gooder! Out to save the world! The woman had a martyr complex! She was willing to die for the people of Palmira. Noble sentiments. But did she really have any idea what the rebel troops might do to her? Before and after they collected a sizable ransom from her father. And Ryan Fortune would pay whatever they asked. But he’d never see his daughter alive again.

“Your life is priceless to your father,” Quinn said.

“I wish I could do as my father asked, but…I can’t.”

“Is that it? You’ve made your decision? You’re definitely not leaving with me today.”

She nodded.

“What do I tell your father?”

“Tell him— No, don’t tell him anything.” Victoria sat, then opened a desk drawer and withdrew a pen and paper. “I’ll write a letter to him and you can deliver it when you return to Texas.”

“Your last will and testament?”

She cut her eyes in Quinn’s direction, the look one of pure disdain. “Haven’t you ever cared enough about anything or anyone to risk your life?”

“Nope, can’t say that I have.” He eased up off the desk. “I’ve risked my life more than once, but it wasn’t for any ideal or for anyone I cared about. It was always for money. That’s the only thing worth risking your life for.”

“Money is meaningless without integrity and self-respect and genuine—”

“Spoken like a woman born with a silver spoon in her mouth.” Quinn leaned over the desk, putting his face only inches from hers. “I grew up a poor, motherless kid in Houston. I just barely managed to stay on the right side of the law. I can relate to these Santo Bonisto peasants a lot better than you can, princess.”

Her gaze locked with his. She clenched her teeth tightly. Her cheeks flushed. Aha! His remarks had hit a nerve!

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Do you feel guilty that you and your family are so rich and these poor people don’t have a pot to piss in? Do you really think sacrificing your life is going to change one damn thing for them?”

“You’re heartless, aren’t you, Mr. McCoy?”

“Got that right!” He withdrew from her. “Somebody mentioned a cantina not far from here. I need a good stiff drink. I’ll be back in about an hour to pick up that letter you’re going to write to your father.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll have Ernesto bring the letter to you. I assume you’re going to Cantina Caesar. It’s the only one in town.”

Quinn opened the door, then paused to look back at her. “See you around, princess.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You never know.”

Segundo laid his meaty hand on the bar, placing his palm up as his mouth curved into a toothless smile. The massively built owner of the Cantina Caesar reminded Quinn of a Sumo wrestler.