Beverly Barton - This Side of Heaven

After locking Ramon Carranza's check in the small safety box in her desk, Cyn went in search of Nate Hodges. As much as she wanted to see him, she dreaded facing him. Somehow, she knew he hadn't come to profess his undying love for her.

She found him in the game room, standing back and watching Bobby as the boy studied the pool table, contem­plating his next shot.

Nate saw her the minute she walked in. Sunshine. That's what he thought of every time he saw her. Pure, clean, bright light. No dark places, no hidden shadows. A woman as honest and good and loving as this old world could cre­ate.

He had talked to Romero after Cyn had left this morn­ing, asking if there was any way to get protection for her. Romero had said it was doubtful, but he'd see what he could do. Nate knew that Cynthia Porter's best protection was staying away from him. But just in case it was already too late, just in case Carranza was Ryker's comrade, then Nate had to make sure she was kept safe. He'd placed a call to Sam Dundee right after his conversation with Romero. Dundee was the best bodyguard in the business, and as long as Romero couldn't come up with federal protection, then a hired gun would have to suffice. Of course, he wasn't sure how Cyn would feel about having a bodyguard. That's why he'd come to Tomorrow House—to tell her about his deci­sion to hire Sam Dundee. He just hoped he could persuade her to agree.

"Lunchtime, guys," Cyn said as she walked into the game room.

Bobby laid his pool cue on the table. Smiling, he pointed to Nate. "He's winning, anyway. Man, Cyn, he's good at everything. You should see him playing Nintendo."

"Won't you join us for lunch?" she asked, her eyes filled with questions as she looked at Nate. "Bobby, you go ahead and save us a couple of seats."

"Thanks, I'd like to join you." Nate hung the cue sticks on the wall holder and restacked the fifteen balls.

The lunchroom was crowded and noisy, but the food was hot and delicious. Nate sat beside Cyn, aware that she was doing her level best to avoid any eye contact with him. She had every reason to be angry about this morning. After all, he'd spent hours making love to her and then had sent her packing. He had tried to explain, but she hadn't bought his explanation.

"Did you make your ten-thirty appointment?" Nate asked.

"Yes." Cyn picked up her glass of iced tea and sipped slowly.

"Mimi said you had a brunch date with some millionaire you were hoping would make a large donation to Tomor­row House." Nate cut into the slice of chocolate cake with his fork.

"That's right."

"Did you get the money?"

"As a matter of fact, Señor Carranza gave me a check to cover all the expenses for the next six months." Hearing Nate choke, then cough, she turned quickly to him. He glared at her. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Nate's stomach knotted tightly. He could hear the roar of his heartbeat in his ears. She had lunch with Ramon Car­ranza? Damnation! How the hell had Carranza gotten to Cyn so quickly?

"How did you meet Ramon Carranza?" Nate asked.

"Do you know Ramon?"

"I've heard of him." Just who the hell was this Car­ranza? Nate had been turning the question over in his mind for days now and had asked Romero to dig a little deeper into the mysterious Cuban's background. Regardless of what Romero found out, Nate knew one thing for certain. Ramon Carranza meant trouble for him.

"I suppose everyone in Florida knows about his reputa­tion," Cyn admitted, trying not to allow her conscience to bother her about taking money from such a man. Possibly dirty money—even blood money.

"Then if you know about his criminal past, why did you agree to meet with him?"

"He's been contributing ten thousand dollars a year to Tomorrow House for the past several years. He was the logical person to contact when I needed more money." She didn't like the tone of Nate's voice or the accusation she heard in his words. How dare he, of all people, condemn her. "Besides, I found him to be a very charming man."

"Did you indeed?"

"Will you kindly lower your voice. Everyone is staring at us."

"Then let's finish this conversation in private." Drop­ping the paper napkin he held in his hand, Nate stood up abruptly, grabbing Cyn by the arm and jerking her up be­side him.

"Good idea," she said. "I happen to have a few ques­tions I want to ask you."

It took them fifteen minutes to finally get away from the kids, from Bruce's reappearance to tell her that he'd spo­ken to Reverend Lockwood, and to settle a squabble be­tween the inside and outside repairmen.

The minute the door of Cyn's office closed behind them, Cyn placed her hands on her hips and swirled around to face Nate. "Why are you here?"

"Your questions will have to wait a few minutes. We're not through discussing Ramon Carranza and why the hell you took money from a damned crime boss."

"Reputed crime boss. Señor Carranza has never been convicted of a crime," Cyn said, her breath huffy. "I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt, don't you?"

"No, I don't. Reputed crime boss, my rear end. He was a top dog in Cuba back in the forties and fifties and moved his operations to Miami when Castro took over."

"You seem to know an awful lot about Señor Carranza. Why is that?"

Hell! He'd opened his big mouth and said more than he should have. "Word gets around." Nate reached out, grab­bing her shoulders. When she tried to pull away, he tight­ened his hold. "The point is this—stay away from Carranza. He's bad news."

"I won't have you dictating whom I should and should not see. I don't need a protector despite what you and Ra­mon Carranza might think." Cyn struggled to free herself from Nate's tenacious grip.

"Be still." His words were low and deep and command­ing. "What did you mean when you said that Carranza thinks you need a protector?"

"Will you let go of me?"

"What did Carranza say to you?"

"It was no big deal." Nate was frightening her, more than Ramon had. Was there some connection between the two men? No, please, Lord. No.

"Tell me, anyway."

"I just happened to mention to Señor Carranza that I was staying in Sweet Haven and you were my nearest neigh­bor."

Nate's curse word stung Cyn's ears.

"What's the matter with you?" Cyn tried to push some bothersome, half-formed doubts out of her mind. Now was not the time to let her imagination run wild. "It was no big deal. Señor Carranza simply asked if you were someone I could count on if I needed help."

Nate squeezed her shoulders so forcefully that she let out a yelp of pain. He released her immediately. "Is that all?"

"Well, he said I should give you a message."

Hot coals filled Nate's stomach, burning through his in-sides. Carranza had sent him a message—a warning? And he had used Cyn as his messenger. "What was the mes­sage?"

"Aren't you taking this a little too seriously?" Cyn asked, puzzled by Nate's attitude, and yet bothered by the shad­owy suspicions she couldn't escape.

"He said to tell you to keep a close eye on me, because anything could happen to a woman living all alone."

Nate turned from her, afraid she would see the fear in his eyes and discern for herself the danger their relationship had put her in. Under his breath, he let out a string of rather crude curses. Carranza was sending him a warning, all right. There was no doubt in Nate's mind that the old Cuban knew Ryker and was working with him.

"You've got to move back to Jacksonville, to your apartment." He wasn't going to tell her that Nick Romero was working on getting her some government protection. It would be hard enough to explain why he wanted to hire a private bodyguard for her. That news alone would proba­bly scare her to death. But what choice did he have, espe­cially since Carranza had issued his warning?