"Were the killers caught?"

"No."

Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Jess thought she was finally beginning to get a glimpse into the man who'd kept himself so hidden away. The man who drove himself so relentlessly.

"Everyone I've ever cared for has ended up dead," he said in a rough voice.

Her gaze snapped to his. "It wasn't your fault."

"My wife and child weren't the only ones, Jess."

She looked at him. A part of her didn't want to hear what he was going to say next. Another part of her knew she must.

"A year ago a woman I cared for deeply was killed in a car accident. We'd argued. She took off."

"Oh, Madrid." Jess couldn't imagine the grief of losing so much in such a short period of time. She stared at him, aware of hot tears building behind her eyes. For the first time the ferocity with which he'd forbidden her to help him nail the smugglers made sense.

"Don't cry," he whispered.

"What you've been through...it's incredibly sad."

"It is." Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close. "If I've learned anything from this, it's that life goes on. But you don't ever take it for granted." He pulled back just enough to make eye contact. "And you never take needless risks."

She gazed back at him, hurting for him, for the h.e.l.l he'd been through. "Some things are worth risking."

"If you're talking about putting yourself on the line, Jess, I'm not going to let you do it."

That he cared and so readily admitted it made her chest swell. But Jess knew eventually she would have to make a decision. And that in doing so she would probably hurt him all over again.

"I have a confession to make," she said, drawing away.

Madrid glanced at her and raised a brow. "You're not going to shock me, are you?"

She smiled, but it felt forced. "I just want to be honest with you."

"About what?"

"I'm not very good at...you know...this," she blurted.

Madrid nodded, but his expression told her he hadn't a clue what she was getting at. "You want to qualify that?"

"Relationships," she said. "I was married for five years. It ended badly. The divorce was...messy."

"That happens sometimes."

"It was my fault, Madrid. The divorce, I mean. I just wasn't good at...the whole relationship thing. In fact, I pretty much sucked at it."

He set both hands against her cheeks and looked into her eyes. "Maybe he wasn't good at it, Jess. Did you ever happen to think of that?"

"I'm impulsive," she said. "I take risks. I do stupid things sometimes without considering other people's feelings. I get angry and say things I don't mean."

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I could be way off base, but it sounds like you might be human."

"I don't want to screw this up." She hadn't meant to say it, but the words came out before she had time to think of the repercussions.

"Let met get this straight," he said. "You're not afraid to face down a bunch of cutthroat smugglers, but when it comes to me you want to turn tail and run?"

"That pretty much covers it." She gave him a self-deprecating smile. "You scare me, Madrid."

"I'm a p.u.s.s.ycat."

She laughed. A second later he joined her, and their laughter rang out, the sound of simple human joy.

Madrid sobered. "All I ask is that you stay out of this smuggling thing. Let me handle it."

Because it was one promise she could not make, Jess lifted her mouth to his. When he resisted, she deepened the kiss.

"You don't fight fair," he muttered.

"No," she agreed. "I don't."

Abruptly Madrid puller her against him and kissed her like a man possessed.

He took her to another precipice, higher and more powerful than the first. As Jess tumbled into another wild free fall, she tried hard not to think about what she would have to do come daylight.

MADRID WOKE to the soft chirp of his cell phone. Groggy with sleep, he squinted at the lighted display and put it to his ear. "Madrid."

"Mike..."

The sound of his brother's voice made the hairs at his nape stand on end. "Matt? What's wrong?"

A groan sounded, then his brother's guttural voice said, "They have the boy. I tried to stop them, but...they shot me."

The words sent an electric shock of fear through Madrid. He jumped to his feet, grabbed his jeans off the floor and stepped into them. "How bad are you hurt?"

"I took a bullet in the gut." He groaned. "I'm bleeding like a pig."

"Is there someone there who can help you?"

"Father Tom. He called an ambulance."

Madrid closed his eyes. "When did this happen?"

"A few minutes ago." Another groan. "Mike, these guys are bad news."

Knowing all too well what the smugglers were capable of, Madrid squeezed his eyes closed. "Did they say anything?"

"They wanted Jess, too. Evidently they thought she was here."

"Till the ambulance arrives I want you to get a towel, then lie down and put the towel over the wound."

"Gotcha."

"Hang tight, buddy."

Madrid disconnected and stood there for a moment trying to pull himself together. He couldn't believe the smugglers had found the church. He'd been so careful.

"What happened?"

He spun at Jess's voice, turned to face her. He hated to tell her, but she needed to know. "They have Nicolas."

Her hand went to her mouth. "Oh, G.o.d, no."

As he quickly dressed, Madrid related everything his brother had told him. "I have to go."

"I'm going with you."

For the first time since his phone had rung, he gave her his full attention. "No."

"It's me they want."

"And Nicolas."

Sickened by the thought, Jess wrapped herself in a blanket and rose. "I can't sit back and let them hurt that child. I made a promise to Angela."

Madrid spun on her. His hands snaked out, grasped her arms and shook. "I can't let them hurt you!" he roared. "For G.o.d's sake, Jess, let me handle this!"

The fury behind his words stopped her; his fingers bit into her skin.

As if realizing he was holding her too tightly, he released her and took a step back. For several interminable seconds they stared at each other. Then Madrid shook himself as if waking from a terrible dream. He pulled a small device from the clip on his belt. "I've only got one weapon and I need to take it with me." He shoved the device and his cell phone into her hands. "Take these."

"What is this?" she asked, referring to the device.

"GPS. If anything happens, if you feel you're in danger, hit the red b.u.t.ton here." He motioned to a small red b.u.t.ton on the end of the device. "It's programmed to put out what's called a Code 99. All MIDNIGHT agents will be scrambled. A GPS signal will be activated simultaneously. You got that?"

"I got it."

"Jess, don't open the door for anyone but me. Is that clear?"

"Madrid-"

He cut her off. "If someone comes in through the front, you go out that back window and run for your life. You got that?"

Fear hit home with the words. Until this moment she'd felt safe. Maybe because she was with Madrid.

"I got it," she said.

"Good girl." He lifted his hand as if to touch her cheek, but changed his mind and dropped it. "I have to go."

"Where?"

"The only place I can think of." Giving her a final, hard look, he snagged his pistol off the counter, flung open the door and was quickly swallowed by darkness.

Chapter Sixteen.

In less than five minutes Jess was bouncing off the walls. She couldn't stop thinking about Nicolas. The little boy was in grave danger. The thought of how frightened and confused he must be tore her up inside. The realization that she'd let down her friend was unbearable.

"I'm sorry, Angela," she whispered.

Jess paced the confines of the RV, feeling trapped and helpless and so frustrated she wanted to scream. She thought about Madrid, and frustration transformed quickly into worry. Armed only with a revolver and facing a dozen men armed with semiautomatic weapons, he didn't stand a chance. Would he contact MIDNIGHT for backup? She couldn't think of anyone else he would trust. Even if he did contact someone to watch his back, would they get there in time?

The thought of Madrid getting hurt-or worse-because he was too heroic to involve her tied her into knots. Everything they'd shared in the hours before he left came rushing back. The sadness in his eyes when he spoke of the past. The gentle brush of his touch. The soft whisper of his voice. The heat in his eyes when he looked at her...

The chirp of the cell phone Madrid had left her jerked her from her reverie. A number she didn't recognize came up on the display. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Jess? It's Father Matthew."

Surprise rippled through her. "Are you all right?" she asked. "Have you heard anything about Nicolas?"

"Unfortunately no. I'm in an ambulance on the way to the hospital." His voice sounded weak and very much like Madrid's. In the background she could hear sirens. "Is Mike still there?" he asked.

"He left five minutes ago."

"Look, it's probably not important, but I thought of something after I hung up."

"What?"

"Well, I've spent quite a bit of time with Nicolas since you and Mike left him here at the church. I have some experience with children who for whatever reason are noncommunicative. When I had dinner with him last night... Well, I know this might sound a little crazy, but I think he's been trying to tell us something."

Jess found herself leaning forward, clutching the phone tightly. "Like what?"

Matt continued. "Early on we thought he was calling out for his mother."

Mah-mah. Mah-mah.

Jess recalled clearly the little boy's wrenching cries. "I remember."

"The more time I spent with him, the more I came to realize he was not calling out for his mother. I think he was repeating a name he'd heard. Maybe even during the crime."

Mah-mah. Mah-mah.