Playing for Keeps Read Free Page A

grateful. He might smell better than he before, but his temper was now riding an all-time high. “I want to see my wife. Now,” Raven said flatly, turning from his position at the window which overlooked the circular driveway and a fountain grand enough for an Italian piazza, and tacky enough for Las Vegas.
    “Your wife is in excellent hands, Mr. Raven.” Bypassing the ugly-ass, shiny, cat-pee-yellow sofas, the man strode forward, all military bearing and officious pomp, fake smile in place. “Good day. I am Edgardo Villalba-Vera, chief of security for el presidente. How may I be of help?”
    “You weren’t listening. Unless you want me to tear this damn place apart, take me to my wife. Pronto.”
    “I understand that you’re very upset—”
    “Pal, I’m way past upset and smack-dab in the middle of homicidal. My wife. Now.”
    “El médico is with her at the moment. Her nurse will alert me when he has departed. I will then have you escorted to her suite.”
    Raven wasn’t waiting one more minute. His need to see Dani—to touch her, to ensure she was whole and healthy—had become his driving force in the last twelve hours. “The FAA and the NTSB representatives are looking for her,” he told the a-hole tightly. “The authorities investigating the accident want to talk to her.” Not as fucking badly as I do, he though savagely.
    “She shall be made available as soon as she is well enough to have visitors.”
    Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, yeah? And just who’ll decide when Dani’s ‘well enough’?”
    “Mr. Raven, I assure you. . .”
    “No, I assure you. The Federal Aviation Administration and the National Transportation Safety Board don’t consider themselves visitors, Ed.”
    Thin lips pinched, and something snapped to life in his dark eyes. They do not have jurisdiction in San Cristóbal, señor.
    “Danica is an American citizen, so she is their jurisdiction—and even if that wasn’t the case-she sure as hell is mine. And while we’re having this private little get-to-know-you chat, what is she doing here, and by whose authority was she removed from the hospital in Miami?”
    The man pulled himself up as importantly as he could before saying officiously, “Miss Cross saved el presidente’s precious only son, Rigo. He, accompanied by his father’s most trusted security staff and many advisors, was on the TransAir flight to Miami. All but your wife and Rigo died in the unfortunate accident last night. When I heard of the interest of your American press regarding the survivors of the crash, I took it upon myself to mobilize my staff and have both Miss Cross and Rigo returned immediately to the palace, where they would be under my protection.”
    “Yeah, well, I’ll feel better when my wife is under my protection and in the hospital under a doctor’s care.”
    She is, señor, Villalba-Vera tried again to placate him. El presidente’s private physician is tending to her as we speak. She is receiving the best of care, I assure you.”
    “Yeah? Well, I’d like to see for myself. Let’s go, pal.” Raven stalked to the monstrous double doors, easily two stories high, and out into the marble vestibule beyond. He turned to look at the guy, who was walking swiftly to catch up. “Which way?” Damn place was probably fifty thousand square feet.
    “If you would but wait a m—”
    Raven wasn’t waiting. He was tired of waiting. Hell, he’d been waiting for Danica for years, in one way or another. He’d reached his saturation point. He charged across the ridiculously ornate entry hall, blocking out the guy in mid bullshit.
    “Hell with it.” He took the red carpeted, marble stairs two at a time, yelling at the top of his voice: “Danica? Where the hell are you? Dani, Goddamn it, answer me!”

Three
    R aven tried twenty doors before slamming open the one to a bedroom with a startled nurse who rose from her seat in alarm as he burst into the dimly-lit room. Ignoring both her wide-eyed