The Spanish Outlaw (4 page)

Legs splayed across the floor, he looked up at her from his humiliating position, trying his best to remain in control of the conversation. “And I assure you that you are not.”

“You would believe a servant over a noblewoman?”

He chuckled and scrambled to stand. “I have known my manservant for many years. I befriended him during the war, and he saved my life on several occasions.” He paused, reflecting
briefly on the past. “I trust Pedro with my life, and when he tells me something about a woman who is hunting me, then
sí
, I believe.”

“He must have been misinformed, because what possible reason would I have to pursue you?”

He caressed her shoulders, letting his hands travel down the length of her arms. When he imprisoned her wrists in a vise-like grip, her eyes widened. She let out a soft cry.

Enough of her stories!
Time for the truth. Sweet-talking her wasn’t working, so he changed tactics.

He pulled her resistant body up against his. “I grow weary of dancing around the subject,
Vivian. You have five minutes to confess to me, or by
Dios,
I promise you will not like the consequences.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she kept her stubborn chin tilted. The way she remained unwavering made him proud, but he would get some answers one way or another.

“I do not appreciate threats, Sir.” Her voice trembled.

“It is not a threat. It is a promise.” He swept his gaze over her face and rested on her trembling lips. “I think I shall personally return you to your employer and show him what a failure you have been. If I can conduct better detective work than you, you are not a very good agent.”

Seeing her beautiful mouth set in a frown, he almost ceased the cruel tongue-lashing. He didn’t want to hurt her, but harsh treatment might be the very key to unleashing her temper and getting the truth.

He continued his verbal assault. “I feel certain Mr. Pinkerton will be disappointed that you have not done your job properly. I have no idea what information about me you seek, but you seem to have come up empty-handed.”

When a look of defeat crossed her features, his stomach twisted. Where was that stubborn streak in her he so admired? Within moments, anger lines appeared around her eyes and lips. She straightened and shoved her hands against him, breaking free from his grasp.

“I’m
not
a failure.” Her accent disappeared in a flurry of anger. “I’ve done the job I sought out to do, because I’ve found the outlaw I’m looking for. And you, Sir, are that man.”

Her words confused him, and he didn’t understand her purpose. He sauntered to the liquor tray and poured himself another drink—wishing it w
as something stronger. What was she talking about? Why would she accuse him of being an outlaw, unless...

“So, you are chasing someone who has something of great value?”
he asked in a much calmer tone.

After taking a long swallow, he turned to meet her stare. In the past, he had enjoyed the ability to know what women thought, but
Vivian Wentworth certainly proved to be different. He liked that, almost too much.

Confusion surged to his head, creating a dull throb in his skull. It’d been awhile since he’d met such a challenging woman.

“Yes,” she answered. “I’m after a thief—a man who has broken the law, not only in one country, but two.”

He arched his brows.

“The man for whom I search,” she continued, “took his uncle’s jewels and disappeared from Spain.” She wagged her finger at him. “Shame on you, Anton. You must know that you’re a wanted man now.”

A different emotion welled within his chest. Anger and revenge threatened to suffocate him, but he kept his gaze narrowed on her.

He forced himself to laugh. “You think I am this thief? A common outlaw? Why, that is ridiculous!”

“Because of the information I’ve gathered on you, I have no doubt you are the man I seek.”

He sought support from the counter behind him. Despite his uneasiness, he feigned calmness. “Tell me of your suspicions.”

“The thief’s uncle also has others trying to find the jewels, and for the past two years they’ve been around the world. The search stopped here in New York. Through their hunt, they’ve spoken to many people, most of whom reported that the man in question has sailed to a foreign
land.” She closed the space between them. “But I went a step further and talked to the not-so-proper connections.” She smiled. “Do you have any idea how many whores were willing to talk about you?”

Inexperience showed in her. Obviously, she believed him to be the culprit, so why did she trust him with her sources? Suspicion of her real intent niggled at him. Her acting rivaled
his own and he wasn’t certain what to believe. Was she really as innocent as she seemed?

He chuckled. “You think you have all the answers.”

“Yes, I certainly do. Why else would my search lead me here? When I saw you at the opera two weeks ago, I knew I had my man.”

“What if you are mistaken?”

As she tilted her head, her gaze roamed across his face before trailing down his body. Conflict was an aphrodisiac. A spark of desire flared in her eyes. Heat stirred within his own chest, and he enjoyed that feeling too much.

“I don’t think I’m wrong,” she answered.

“How will you know? You insist you are right, and I say you are not. We seem to be at an impasse.”

“The truth will be determined when I contact Mr. Pinkerton, and he in turn consults with your uncle.”

Worry plucked at Anton’s heart, but he maintained his stoic expression and finished his drink. After placing the empty glass on the liquor tray, he studied her face. “What fate will grace this unfortunate outlaw?”

“I’m sorry to say your uncle wants you in prison. But I’m certain if you return his inheritance, he’ll set you free.”

Anton laughed, covering his growing unease. “Oh, Vivian.” He caressed her cheek. “If I were not so enamored with you, I would be insulted.”

Her smile softened. “And if I didn’t know what a great
performer you were, I’d believe in your innocence. But I know you are Antonio Romero, and I’ll be contacting my employer first thing in the morning to report your whereabouts. He’ll then get in touch with your uncle tomorrow.”

Panic constricted in his chest as the walls
of deception closed in around him.

* * * *

Vivian had never been so confident in her life. Although Anton’s excellent performing skills were evident, she still sensed deep in her heart she had her notorious outlaw. Why else would he have threatened her? Guilt and fear were his only emotions.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have informed him of her plans, but when he accused her of being a poor detective, her temper made its debut. Now that she’d spouted the truth, how could she keep him from running?
She must find a way. Her employer wouldn’t have faith in her abilities any other way.

Then again, w
hat if Anton decided not to let her go because she knew too much? She could probably handle this situation, but she needed her partner’s help to stay focused. Anton’s sensual nature was too strong, and Vivian had almost succumbed several times already. She prayed Margaret would awaken soon.

Dropping his hand from her cheek, he stepped back, his shoulders as stiff as the muscles in his expression.
“
Mañana
? You think your Mr. Pinkerton can contact this other Spaniard you refer to as my uncle that soon?”

“Yes. As I told you before, your uncle is here in New York.”

Anton’s eyes widened as genuine panic etched across his face for the first time tonight. She
had
been correct in assuming Anton was their outlaw.

His long legs ate up the space across the carpet
as he swiped fingers through his thick, black hair. Back and forth, he paced like a caged animal.

“
Hijo lo
...” he snapped, leaving off the last bit.

His actions erased all doubt from her mind, placing victory within reach. Yet, his temper frightened her. The opera singer she’d conversed with for the past hour was nothing like the irate man he’d suddenly become. Even when he threatened her before, he’d never appeared this menacing.

As her heart hammered against her ribs, she swallowed a knot of fear and forced herself to stay strong. What other choice did she have? Glancing at her friend, she prayed Margaret would soon regain consciousness and be the supporting partner Vivian expected.

Anton abruptly stopped in front of her.
Vivian soon forgot about Margaret and focused on him.

“Does Mr. Pinkerton know of your suspicions?”
he snapped.

“Of course,” she lied. She couldn’t let Anton know she was here on her own free will.

“
Dios Mio!
” He grasped her arms. “What did you tell him?”

She
hitched a breath, but not from Anton’s closeness this time. The steely look in his deep brown eyes made her shudder. “I told him I thought our thief was the opera singer.”

“Did he believe you?”

“He doesn’t believe anything unless he sees tangible proof first.” Especially when it comes to female agents, she reminded herself bitterly.

A heavy sigh escaped between his teeth, and he loosened his hold. Lines in his face relaxed, nearly disappearing. The drastic changes of his mood confused her. What was he hiding...and could she gain his trust enough to expose his deep, dark secrets?

“Anton.” She kept her voice steady. “Although I think you’re a wonderful singer and performer, your days of glory are going to end. Taking your uncle’s jewels was wrong, and you must be punished.”

When a smile touched his tempting mouth, uncertainty overwhelmed her. Why would he appear happy so soon after his little fit of temper?

His hard chest moved noticeably with each deep breath. “Vivian,
mí dulce
, I am sorry to tell you, but you have been misinformed.” He shook his head. “Actually, you have been lied to.”

She lifted her chin. “Explain yourself.”

“You think you have captured the thief, but I am not that person. My name is Antonio Rico Romero Vasquez.” He stroked her chin. “But I did not steal my uncle’s jewels.”

Tingles warmed her skin from where his fingers stroked, and she pushed aside the feeling. Emotions had no place in getting
to the bottom of this case.

“Then why is your uncle looking for you?” She gave Anton an accusatory stare.

“Because he wants me dead so he can inherit my father’s island.”

She arched a brow, finding his story as false as his plea of innocence. He assumed she’d believe anything he said.
Not this time—and certainly not this woman! Gullibility was not her weakness.

“I still don’t understand. You are the illegitimate son of an heir, and in that case, the inheritance is passed to the next living male carrying on the
Romero name.”

He nodded. “I am aware how it is passed, but my uncle is not the rightful heir. I am.
My uncle has told so many lies you have no other choice but to believe him.”

She wanted to laugh out loud. Instead, she decided to pummel him with questions until he slipped and gave himself away. “So, you say your uncle lied to my employer? What kind of proof do you have?”

He shook his head. “You are certainly a detective, Vivian. Your mind is positioned on the guilty, not the innocent.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That means you believe everything you are told to be the truth. You believe the lies Juanito Romero Ballí has told without allowing any possibility for doubt.” Anton folded his arms across his muscular chest. “Tell me, Vivian. Did my uncle show you anything to corroborate
his
story?”

She scowled. “No.”

“Then why do you believe him over me?”

A dull throb knocked against the inside of her skull as doubt filled her mind again. Hoping to bring a little relief, she massaged the pain. Anton had a point. Then again, what if he came from a family of professional sweet-talkers?

He cupped her chin again, forcing her to meet his warm gaze. “Tell me what I can do to make you believe me.”

Just like before, his nearness created greater confusion, while his gentle touch clouded her mind.
“If you’re not guilty, then why did your uncle go through so much trouble to find you if you were the rightful heir? He’d know the Pinkerton agents would eventually discover the truth.”

Anton
turned away from her, strode to the fire and with the poker, separated the broken logs. “Juanito Ballí is very crafty. Power and money are what he kills for, and he will continue to take lives as long as it gets him what he is after. I am certain during my absence he has erased any evidence of my identity. He has been acting as king of the island for so long he does not want to relinquish the title. Besides, not many people know I survived the war.” Anton glanced over his shoulder at her. “You see, I have something my uncle needs in order to collect my inheritance.”