In Destiny's Shadow

He spotted the oval green-on-white sign that was the trademark of the Grand Inn chain, and turned into the parking lot. Out of habit, he backed the Jeep into a spot so that he could get out quickly, then shut off the engine and looked at his passenger.

She probably thought that clenching her hands in her lap that way would hide the tremor in her fingers. It must be important to her not to show weakness. Anthony could understand that. For a woman who had witnessed a murder and had narrowly missed becoming a victim herself, she was holding up well.

He had expected no less. Melina was the lead crime reporter for the New York Daily Journal. She hadn’t gotten to the top of her field by being a coward. It had taken some nerve to fly halfway across the country and walk into a deserted alley in the dead of night to meet a source. Almost as much nerve as it had taken for her to get into this Jeep with him.

Then again, he knew she would do anything to get the man she knew as Titan. They had that much in common.

She turned her head to meet his gaze. Her auburn curls were backlit by the floodlight over the motel office, giving them the appearance of a halo. The curve of her cheek was softly feminine, gleaming like satin. Her lips were full and shaped in a classic bow, and he couldn’t help remembering how good she had felt in his arms.

Had she sensed the sexual current that had flowed between them back there in the alley? Its strength had taken him by surprise. It had been all he could do to bring it back under control, but he’d had no choice. He couldn’t afford the distraction. This was the wrong time, the wrong place and definitely the wrong woman.

Her gaze glittered, not with interest but with challenge. “I didn’t tell you I was staying here, Mr. Caldwell.”

“You didn’t need to. The Daily Journal always puts its people in the Grand Inn chain. They’re both owned by the same company.”

“How do you know that?”

“I looked it up on the Internet. Now you need to pack your things. I’ll answer your other questions once we get you out of here.” He opened his door and stepped to the ground. He had to grit his teeth against a wave of dizziness. It had taken more out of him than he’d thought to blow that transformer and snap the high tension wire.

“Just a minute,” she said. “You said we would talk about Titan. That’s why I came with you. I’m not going any farther until—”

He slammed the door on her protest and rounded the hood to the passenger side. He paused until the dizziness had passed, then flung open her door and held out his hand. “We don’t have much time, Miss Becker. I couldn’t be the only one who figured out you’re staying here. Someone in Titan’s network must have learned about your meeting with Fredo tonight. They don’t leave loose ends.”

Her gaze darted past him as she scanned the parking lot. She drew her lower lip between her teeth. It was an unconscious gesture, another chink in the brave front she was trying so hard to project.

Anthony felt a sudden urge to pull her into his arms and protect her the way he had before. Instead, he withdrew the hand he had offered and gripped the edge of the door. He had to maintain his focus. Hers wasn’t the only life at risk. “I’m staying at the Pecos Lodge. It’s built around a courtyard and is more out of the way than this place. I’ll book you a room there under another name.”

“I could go to the police.”

“Yes, you could, but you already chose not to,” he said, mentally replaying the cell phone call she had made from his Jeep. “Why didn’t you give your name when you called to tell them about Fredo’s murder?”

She returned her gaze to his face. “Fredo said I shouldn’t trust anyone. That could mean Titan has an informant on the local force.”

“Then why did you trust me?”

“What makes you think I do?”

“You came with me.”

“I would go with the devil himself if it got me to Titan.”

Anthony was familiar with the signs of obsession—he recognized them in himself. That Melina’s obsession stemmed from professional reasons rather than personal made no difference. He would use it to his advantage. “There’s another reason why you didn’t go to the police.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“You don’t want them to get between you and your story.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll give you five minutes to pack. Then I’m leaving, with or without you.”

She gathered her skirt to one side, swung her legs out of the Jeep and hopped to the ground. She led the way across the parking lot to her room in silence. As soon as they were inside and he had closed the door behind them, she turned to face him. “Look, I came this far with you because you know something about Titan. And I’m going along with your suggestion about checking out of this motel because I agree with you about that. It would be safer to change location on the off chance Titan learned I met Fredo. But let’s get one thing straight.”

“What?”

“I don’t take orders, Mr. Caldwell.” She put her fists on her hips and drew herself up. “And as much as I appreciate the way you saved my life, I won’t be bullied.”

She was tall for a woman, and the suede boots that hugged her calves had good-size heels. Because of that, she didn’t need to tilt her head much to meet his gaze. It reminded him of how well their bodies had fit together when he’d been holding her—

Concentrate, he told himself. “It was never my intention to bully you, Miss Becker. I’m merely stating the most logical course of action.”

“No, you were trying to push me, and it won’t work. Yes, I want my story, but you must want something from me. It couldn’t have been coincidence that you happened to show up in that alley tonight. You must have been following me since I left this motel. What is it? What do you want?”

She shouldn’t have put it that way, he thought. What would any man want when he was at a motel in the middle of the night with a woman who made his blood hum the way it did now? He brought his index finger to her cheek. He stopped short of touching her, yet he could feel her warmth reach out to him, drawing him closer, making him yearn for the time to explore where this could lead.

But they didn’t have time, and he couldn’t afford this. The sooner he got what he came for, the safer everyone would be. He dropped his hand. “I already told you.”

“Right. You said you want Titan.”

“He has to be brought to justice.”

“Absolutely. We agree on that much, but you didn’t answer my question. What do you want from me?”

“I want your files.”

Her eyes widened. She took a step back. “You can’t be serious.”

“I need the information you’ve gathered. Your notes, your files, your list of contacts. You’re closer than the police are to learning where Titan is. Combined with what I know, that will lead me—”

“Whoa. I should have seen it. You’re a reporter. That’s how you know so much about me and the Journal. What paper do you work for?”

“I’m not a reporter. I don’t work for anyone but myself.”

“Prove it.”

“My questions should prove it. I’m not interested in what Titan has done, I only care about where he is now.”

She studied him, as if trying to read the truth on his face. “Well, whatever you claim, you’ve got some nerve thinking I’d give anything away. I’m not telling you where Titan is. This is my story. I’ve been tracking him for months and I intend to be there when he’s arrested.”

“You can’t plan to continue. You were almost killed tonight. They won’t give up.”

She turned away. There was a pale green carry-on bag on a suitcase stand beside the door. She picked up the bag and took it to the desk in the corner. “I don’t give up, either,” she said. A laptop computer sat on the desk, surrounded by disorderly piles of handwritten notes. She unplugged the laptop and slipped it into a pocket on the outside of the bag, then gathered the papers and stuffed them in, as well. She zipped the pocket closed and faced him, her chin lifted and her shoulders squared. “And just in case you’re thinking of stealing this stuff, don’t bother.”

That was exactly what he’d been thinking. It would have been the simplest solution, after all. That was why he’d been watching her room earlier tonight—he’d planned to enter when she was asleep and help himself to what he needed. But when he had seen her go out, he’d decided to follow her instead. “Miss Becker…Melina.”

“Because it wouldn’t do you any good,” she continued. “I use the computer mostly for research and for sending finished copy to my editor. And I use my own brand of shorthand for my notes.” She tapped her temple. “Most of what I know is in here.”

“That’s all the more reason for you to be concerned about your safety.”

“I am concerned. That’s why I’m packing.” She placed the bag on the bed. Her gaze dropped to the bloodstains on her skirt. For a moment she wavered, clenching her hands the way she had in the Jeep.

It was obvious to Anthony she was still struggling to control her emotions. He took a step forward, but she recovered quickly and turned to the dresser. It was just as well. He probably shouldn’t touch her again.

Moving mechanically, she emptied the dresser drawers and the room’s small closet. With the skill of a habitual traveler, she rolled the garments smoothly—there weren’t many—and squeezed them into the middle compartment of the bag. She walked to the bathroom. “If you’re not doing a story, then what’s your connection to Titan?” she asked over her shoulder. “Did you work for him?”

Anthony followed her. The bathroom was small and didn’t appear to have a window, so he stopped in the doorway. “I’ll answer that question if you tell me what you know.”

“That isn’t the way it works.” She used her forearm to sweep the belongings off the counter beside the sink into another pocket of her bag. “You should be giving me information, not the other way around.”

“And you shouldn’t be risking your life for a story.”

“My work is my life, Mr. Caldwell,” she said. “And I’m going to break the news about Titan. What he did tonight to Fredo is only the latest in a string of crimes that’s more extensive than anyone believes.” She hitched the strap of the carry-on over her shoulder and brushed past him.

He turned to keep her in sight. “You don’t have to convince me of that, Miss Becker. His thugs attacked and almost killed my friend.”

She paused at the foot of the bed to look at him. Some of the antagonism eased from her expression. “Why?”

“Because my friend wouldn’t tell them where to find my sisters and me.” He moved toward her and reached for her bag. “Here. I’ll carry that for you.”

She curled her fingers around the strap. “No, thanks.”

“You still don’t trust me?”

“No, but if Titan hurt your friend and is threatening your family, I can understand why you would want to see him brought to justice.”

Anthony didn’t respond. If she ever discovered what he really planned to do with the bastard, she would be even less inclined to trust him. He walked to the door and put his hand on the knob. “The five minutes are up. Time to go.”

Melina gave the room a final survey, then moved to join him. She put her free hand on his arm. “Why would Titan be after your family?”

“Where is Titan hiding?”

She hesitated briefly, her lips thinning, then sighed and gave a crisp nod. “All right. If it turns out you’re telling the truth, we might be able to make a deal.”

He looked at where her fingers rested against his jacket sleeve. Her nails were trimmed short and bare of polish, her grip firm, yet there was a delicate femininity in the shape of her hand. Her touch couldn’t penetrate the leather, but he sensed it just the same. “What kind of deal, Melina?”

“You might have information about Titan that I could use.”

“And in return?”

“In return for an interview, I promise to call you before I break the story.” She patted his arm. “Aside from the FBI, you’ll be the first one to know where he is.”

It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a start. He took her hand. The contact teased through his palm and raised the hair on his arm. At her intake of breath, he lifted his gaze. Her lips seemed closer to his than before. Had she swayed toward him? Had she felt it, too?

Anthony released his grip and forced himself to look away. He knew what he wanted. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t this.

Melina Becker was a means to an end, that was all. Anthony didn’t have the time or the right to indulge his cravings with her. He had to control this connection between them. He had no choice.

For Anthony’s destiny had been determined twenty-eight years ago. He had been three years old when he’d watched Titan commit his first murder.

Back then, Titan had called himself Benedict Payne.

And back then, Anthony had called him father.

Chapter 2

“I have a new lead, Neil.” Melina pushed down on the handle of her hotel room door with one hand while she held her cell phone to her ear with the other. She swung open the door, snatched up the Santa Fe Examiner that lay on the threshold and bumped the door closed with her foot. “It’s going to take some more time to check it out.”

“How much more time, Melina?”

Tucking the newspaper under her phone arm, she straightened her sweater as she walked back to the bed. It was a relatively long walk. The proportions of the rooms in the Pecos Lodge were far more generous than those at the Grand Inn. They were more distinctive, too. The Pecos had a Southwestern flavor: red and black Navajo-style patterns brightened the bedspread and curtains, warm varnished pine planks made up the floor, and the window was set into a thick plastered arch. It was nice, but she knew she wouldn’t linger. She seldom did. “I’m interviewing him this morning, so I need another day. Maybe two.”

“That’s what you said last week.”

“I know, but this is promising, Neil. No one else is on it.” She laid the paper flat on the bed and scanned the headlines.

“Maybe no one else is on it because there’s nothing to be on. Titan is just another drug dealer. He’s news, but not big news.”

She turned the pages and continued to skim the articles as she squatted down to grope beside the bed for her boots. “We’ve had this discussion before, Neil. Titan has a bigger agenda, I’m certain of it.”

“What happened to the lead you were chasing—the thief you interviewed last year? What was the guy’s name? Pablo? Paco?”

The newsprint blurred. Melina left her boots on the floor and sat on the edge of the mattress. “His name was Fredo. He’s dead.”

“What? How?”

“Titan had him killed. I saw…” She breathed in slowly through her nose, trying to push her horror away so she could recall the events objectively. Almost six hours had passed, yet she still felt like throwing up when she remembered the sound of the van running over Fredo’s body. She brushed the folds of her skirt. She had thrown out the one she’d worn last night. “I was there. He was shot. The people who did it are dead, too.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Did you get pictures?”

“No, Neil. I did not get pictures.”

“You don’t need to shout.”

She did some more nose-breathing, striving for calm. Neil Tremblay wasn’t as insensitive as he sounded. He was just doing his job as her editor. She switched her phone to her other ear. “Sorry.”

“Did you get a statement from the police at the scene? Are they finally admitting it was Titan?”

“I didn’t wait for the police. There was too much going on at the time. Afterward I called in a tip anonymously.” She looked at the paper. “So far there’s nothing about it in the local news. It’s probably too early. I’ll follow up on Fredo’s murder and on what I learned from him when I finish this interview with my new lead.”

There was a silence. “You should have been more forthcoming with the police, Melina,” he said. “You still have nothing solid to run.”

Neil was using his reasonable voice, the one he adopted when he was about to say something she didn’t like. She pushed herself off the bed and paced as far as the window. She fingered the geometric pattern at the hem of the curtain. “We’ve discussed this before, too, Neil. I want to hold off running anything until I can cover Titan’s arrest. My contact at the FBI has been ducking my calls, so I’m sure they’re closing in. I want to be there when they do.”

“I admire your determination, but you have to understand my position. I’ve given you all the leeway I can and still have nothing to show for it.”

“This new lead could pay off big,” she began.

“That’s what you said when you flew to North Carolina in September, and again when you flew to Texas last month. Nothing came of those leads, either. It makes me wonder whether you’re using this story as an excuse to keep traveling.”

“Neil—”

“If it was only up to me, I’d give you carte blanche, you know that. But I have to answer to the board and I can’t continue to justify your expenses.”

“Are you cutting me off?”

“Don’t put it so harshly, Melina. This is for your own good. It’s time to reassess our priorities. We should direct our energy to more worthwhile pursuits.”

“Neil, this is worthwhile. I have the inside track with a friend of one of Titan’s victims.”

“Great. Write it up as a human interest piece and we can run it in the Sunday supplement.”

“He can give me more than that. It seems that Titan is after this guy’s family. I want to find out why.”

There was a stuttering creak on the line. Melina recognized the sound of Neil’s chair. She pictured him leaning back behind his desk, the Manhattan skyline beyond his window a dramatic backdrop, his gaze directed at the ceiling. He did that a lot.

She pushed aside the curtain to look at the mountains in the distance. She didn’t know what the range was called, but the skyline sure was different from what she was used to. “Two more days, that’s all I’m asking.”

“And then?”

She hesitated.

“Will you give me your answer when you come home?”

“My answer about this story?”

“No, about us.”

Oh, damn. Melina turned her back on the view and sank down on the windowsill. She didn’t want to go into this now. “I can’t promise that, Neil.”

This time his silence was longer. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped. “I miss you, Melina.”

“Neil…”

“I know we agreed not to discuss it until you got back.” The chair creaked again. “But you’re still thinking about what I said before you left, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I think about it,” she said.

“Good. You can have your two days. Let me know what flight you’re taking. I’ll meet you at the airport the day after tomorrow.”

The call ended as it had begun, with business. Melina should be pleased that Neil had relented about the expenses, but the victory was a small one. The larger battle was awaiting her on her return to New York.

She placed the phone on the windowsill beside her, then bent forward, dropping her face into her hands. You’re still thinking about what I said before you left, aren’t you?

Marriage wasn’t something she liked to think about—she hadn’t seriously considered it for eight years—but this was the third time that Neil had proposed.

He had popped the question in his office with the same ring he’d offered the first two times. It hadn’t exactly been romantic, but she had been in a hurry to get to the airport, and he kept the ring in the top drawer of his desk.

There were many points in his favor. He was a nice guy. Mature, respectable, emotionally stable and financially comfortable. They had countless things in common, from their fondness for jazz to their interest in foreign films. They had a terrific working relationship and they enjoyed each other’s company. Their dates weren’t passionate but they were pleasant. She genuinely liked him, and she was certain he would make a great father. Those were all sensible elements to build a solid marriage on. If she set aside her emotions and thought logically…

Right. Set aside her emotions, use her brain. Seek the truth. That was what she did best. That was what being a good reporter meant.

But this wasn’t a story she was contemplating. This was her life.

My work is my life. That was what she had told Anthony only a few hours ago. And it was. It had given her a structure to cling to when the rest of her world had fallen apart. Chasing a lead across the country, walking into dark alleys, getting shot at by criminals didn’t frighten her half as much as taking another leap of faith with her heart.

Would her feelings be any different if Neil had intense green eyes instead of comfortable brown? Would she be logically weighing the pros and cons of commitment if Neil had thick black hair that he wore in a bandit queue, and a defiant gypsy hoop in one ear? Would she be hesitating like this if he had a tall, lean body that moved with the pulse-skittering, sexy grace of a prowling wolf?

Groaning, she crammed the heels of her hands against her eyes. What was wrong with her? Anthony had nothing to do with her relationship with Neil. He was a source, that was all. A source she still didn’t completely trust. A source who could be extremely useful because he had a personal ax to grind with Titan.

He also had a strangely stimulating effect on her. When he was near, everything seemed more vivid, as if her senses were somehow more acute. Granted, the circumstances last night had been exceptional and that could have influenced her perception, yet Anthony Caldwell wasn’t an ordinary man. He projected an impression of energy, a feeling of leashed power.

That was what drew her. There was far more to Anthony than met the eye. It was only natural that, as a reporter, she would want to discover what made him tick, what secrets he kept. And it was totally understandable that, as a woman, she would respond to that…that…She fumbled for a word. How could she describe it? What was it about that man that made him so different?

Whatever it was, it was inconvenient. He hadn’t told her anywhere near enough after he’d brought her here last night. She would have to push him harder during their interview. She only had two days to get results. Otherwise, she would have no excuse left not to return to New York.

Excuse? The thought made her groan again. Was Neil right? Was she finding reasons to keep traveling?

“Melina?”

At the deep voice, she snapped her head up. As if she had conjured him out of her thoughts, Anthony stood less than two yards away.

Her heart did a painful thump. It wasn’t only from surprise. His gaze probed into hers and sent a tickle of awareness all the way to her bare toes.

He wore the same clothes as he had the night before. Black jeans encased his long legs and rode comfortably loose on his slim hips. A black leather bomber jacket hung open over a shirt that had likely started out black, as well, but was faded to a washed-soft pewter. The sober tones suited him—even though he stood squarely in the light that poured in from the window behind her, he gave the impression of being surrounded by traces of shadow.

“Melina, are you all right?”

How long had she been staring? she wondered belatedly. She surged to her feet. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“We agreed to meet at eight,” he said. The gold at his earlobe glinted subtly as he tipped his head behind him. “When I knocked on your door, it swung open. I thought I heard you moan, so I came in to make sure you were okay.”

“I didn’t hear any knock.”

He scowled. “You obviously didn’t hear me come in, either. You have to be more careful. Titan’s people don’t give second chances.”

She looked past him. The door to the corridor was closed now. She remembered undoing the security chain when she had picked up the newspaper from the threshold. She had been talking to Neil so she hadn’t bothered to rehook the chain. She also hadn’t paid any attention to whether or not the electronic lock had engaged.