Dark Illusions

Prologue

An international flight originating in Sydney landed at Los Angeles International in the wee hours of the morning. Among the passengers on board, an extremely handsome but quiet man waited while the others deplaned before standing up and heading for the hatch. He said good-bye to the stewardess who obviously wondered why she couldn’t be lucky enough to date a hunk like him—her thoughts written all over her face. He smiled, leaving the huge Boeing 747.

He walked along the passageway leading toward the terminal and baggage claim followed by customs. He prepared himself for a long wait. Since September 11th and the beefed-up security, it had always added another hour to his travel time—at least. He understood why though it amazed him how easily people got things through, despite the heightened security measures.

He walked through the scanner after an official stamped his passport and while his luggage and briefcase went through the scanner.

Beep!

Sir?

Belt buckle. Would you mind using the hand-held scanner, please?

All right, she said. She ran the wand of the unit along the outside of his leg, the monitor beeping again near his knee. She looked at him.

Steel pins after surgery. You’ll find them in my back as well.

The woman looked at him as if to ask why.

Rodeo, ma’am. I had a slight disagreement with one of the bulls, he explained. A lie, some of it was true. His knee had been damaged when the bull’s rear hooves came down on him after the animal threw him off, knocking him unconscious. The rodeo clowns—bullfighters as they preferred to be called—distracted the bull heading the animal toward the chute and out of the arena. The injury had been season ending but it didn’t stop him from competing the next year.

The lie came about describing his back since it became easier to attribute it to rodeo instead of the truth. Yes, he’d had surgery and steel added to help support and strengthen his spine but the injury came at the hands of a sadistic Columbian drug lord. Sent in by the Drug Enforcement Agency in Washington, DC to bring the menace back to the United States to face trial, he spent the better part of a year in the man’s mountain compound. When the elite Delta Force rescued him, they found a half-dead man with a broken spine, the result of constant beatings and torture.

When he regained consciousness, he found himself in a body cast after surgery to repair his back. People thought he had excellent posture because he always sat straight but he had no choice thanks to the steel rod supporting his spine. This made rodeo difficult at times but he managed to compete in the sport he loved despite the odds. He’d also been told if he needed surgery again, the doctors would replace the steel with titanium.

Once cleared through customs, he gathered his bags and headed to the Hertz desk to pick up his rental car. He left the airport finally heading to a hotel downtown where he took a room under an alias for the night. In the morning, he drove away in a second car, always careful to make sure no one followed him. After he made sure, he drove to John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana, boarded his private Lear jet and flew home to Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Did I miss anything?

No, sir.

Good.

He relaxed, reading the latest edition of USA Today before dozing off.

* * * *

Welcome home, Nigel.

Thanks, it’s good to be home.

Did you have a successful trip? Catherine Wade asked. His housekeeper had been with his family since coming to the United States from London thirty years before.

Let’s put it this way—I have a happy client along with my happy bank account.

Good, I’d hate to see you waste time.

Never, Catherine, he said, then gave her a quick kiss. She smiled.

I’ll have your lunch served on the terrace.

Good.

Nigel watched her disappear, grateful for her presence in his life. She’d been like a mother to him after his died from a cardiac arrest. With his father always on the road, Nigel turned to Catherine when he needed to. After his father’s drowning, Catherine became Nigel’s only family. She knew everything there was to know about him and just what to ask about and what not to and Nigel loved her for it.

He went up to his room to wash up and change into something more him—jeans and a t-shirt. Designer suits worked at the office or on business trips but at the ranch, jeans and relaxed. Once he had changed, he went downstairs to the terrace and ate. Catherine took care of him—her idea of lunch was a steak and baked potato. Fortunately, she usually called supper late.

She’d also put the Wall Street Journal on the table so he could catch up on the last week’s deals and financial news.

Nigel, you have a call.

Take a message.

It’s Aaron—he says it’s important.

Nigel picked up the phone and took a deep breath.

Aaron, what’s up?

We’ve got a problem.

* * * *

Sephora Collins checked the final details on the fundraiser she’d host the next evening. She hosted these types of events several times a month, her name drawing people to enjoy a good party while their wallets and checking accounts left a little lighter than when they arrived.

Coming from old money, her family had been in New Mexico since the early 1800’s, though her grandmother swore they went back to the early tribes who’d settled in Mexico. No family member had ever found proof but the family’s stories kept the idea alive for generations.

She lived in one of the older homes outside the city of Santa Fe, a huge rambling ranch house on several thousand acres. She and several neighbors had banded together to make sure no developers got their hooks into the area by purchasing any property up for sale. There had been one proviso to this agreement—the land bought had to touch the existing property of the one buying it. While they added to their real estate portfolios, the small group kept the land free of new homes and destruction.

Sephora, is there anything I can get you?

Yes, Tricia. I am wearing the white strapless Gucci tonight. Could you get the accessories out for me?

Be glad to.

I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Good, don’t find out either.

Sephora laughed. Tricia had been her assistant for seven years and seemed more like a sister than anything else. Tricia knew her likes and dislikes becoming very good at anticipating what Sephora wanted. They worked together extremely well, something Sephora considered important and treasured. She valued their friendship, one of the few she had.

Elegance personified she’d been called, though Sephora could not see it. Her dark hair tumbled wildly down her back, the curls going where they wanted. She could wear anything she wanted and look beautiful, her bright light blue eyes sparkling no matter what. She knew she was fortunate though she did her best to downplay it all. A stylist’s dream, Sephora had other more pressing things to worry about.

Going over the guest list one last time, she groaned seeing Lawrence Murphy’s name. How the hell did you get invited to this? Damn it! She’d been trying to keep him away from anything she hosted because, to put it bluntly, she didn’t like or trust him. His financial history questionable at best, he’d burst onto the Santa Fe social scene like a bull in a china shop. He’d bought a huge spread south of the city then muscled his way into Santa Fe society. She’d rather he’d not attend but at this late date, she could not uninvite him. The man made her skin crawl, something about him bothering her.

She checked further, seeing Nigel Shelton would be attending and smiled. Nigel had joined her and their other neighbors in their land undevelopment group though he spent a great deal of time traveling. She knew he dabbled in many things—gambling in the stock market as well as the poker table. He’d done amazing things with his inheritance and the family’s fortune. She’d always wondered about him, the air of mystery surrounding him intriguing. They’d said hello at various events but she didn’t know anything more, both their lives going in opposite directions. Maybe they’d have the chance to get to know each other at the party.

Sephora got some iced tea then went to her room to see what Tricia had chosen for her.

Miss Sephora?

Yes, Jaycee?

You have a phone call.

Thank you, she said, taking the cordless phone from her housekeeper. Hello?

I need to speak with you.

About...

At your party—I’ll find you.

Chapter 1

Aaron, what the hell is wrong? Nigel asked, knowing his friend did not act like this without cause.

When was the last time you looked at the geologicals on the ranch and those of your neighbors?

Not for a while, why?

Did you know your place and the Collins tract are sitting on a huge deposit of turquoise?

Not proven though I’ve heard rumors.

Well, I’ve got your proof. The plates shifted a little and we did a new study—routine because of the shift. The survey showed a hidden deposit of turquoise and some other minerals. It looks like a huge vein.

So what’s the problem?

Murphy already knows about it.

Shit!

Exactly. Do you think the Collins people know?

I doubt it but I know Murphy’s interested in her and her ranch.

Now he has more of a reason. She’d better be told.

I’ll see her tonight and I’ll tell her...

If she wants to see the survey...

I’ll set up a meeting here.

Good, I’ll wait to hear from you.

I’ll call you as soon as I know something.

He hung up then called Sephora Collins, telling her they needed to talk while not leaving his name. He didn’t know whether the news should come from him or his private investigator. Damn it!

He called his financial attorney advising the man of the latest news. Aaron handled the ranch and the land while Phillip took care of all the money angles. A financial genius, Phillip Kressley had placed most of Nigel’s money in banks in Switzerland and the Caymans, the figures staggering.

Nigel wanted to be prepared for Lawrence Murphy. He’d been keeping track of this man since Murphy moved into the area several years earlier. Something about Murphy bothered him but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly. An older man of questionable means, he’d been buying up any property of value hitting the market. Fortunately, Nigel and his neighbors had agreed to buy any land abutting their properties, keeping Murphy out of the area north of the city.

All of them had worked hard to keep the land as open and away from developers and corporate raiders as best they could. With his desire to buy up land and the new information on the find under the Shelton and Collins properties, Murphy now became more dangerous.

He called Aaron back.

Do me a favor?

What?

Get backgrounds on Sephora Collins and Murphy. I need the Collins file yesterday. I want to know her before I meet her tonight.

They hung up, Nigel sitting back deep in thought but grateful for his friends. Phillip had been valuable both personally and professionally though he rued the fact they hadn’t hung out for a while. With Phillip in New York all the time to be closer to the market, it made it hard to get together though Aaron Stewart remained local and very close.

The three of them had met in high school. Aaron and Phillip went east to college while Nigel enlisted in the Air Force. He excelled in everything the military offered, winding up using his unique talents in Special Ops. When he went to leave the service, the higher ups tried coaxing him back. Because of this, he left while still on the government’s payroll. On rare occasions, he went back to carry out assignments he couldn’t talk about—ones like the mission that got him the steel rod in his back.

Aaron returned home and went to work for Nigel, the perfect arrangement, especially when Nigel disappeared on jobs or covert missions.

While Aaron got the information Nigel wanted conventionally, he decided to use his contacts to see if he could learn anything not on the official biographies. If they entered into a fight with Murphy, Nigel needed to know everything about the enemy and anyone working with him.

Nigel went upstairs to his office. Going to a door off to the side, he entered a code into the security panel, waited for the door to slide open then entered his computer room. Like a hi-tech sci-fi movie, the door closed behind him, no one the wiser.

He accessed several sites and emailed a few others looking for answers. When they came back, he had mixed feelings.

Murphy, Lawrence—born: 1940 in Galveston, Texas.

Education—SMU with a major in business. Graduated in the middle of his class with fair grades—not a standout student. Specializes in corporate raiding, financial history questionable. Last five years—heavy concentration on real estate deals.

That’s pretty standard info, Nigel said out loud. He did another search through all the criminal databases learning a great deal more.

Murphy, Lawrence—International warrant issued for arms dealing and funding several coups of small foreign governments with terrorist affiliations. Possible Al-Queda ties though as yet unproven. Suspected of backing several...

You son of a bitch. You should be in prison somewhere instead of here.

Knowing how obvious Murphy had been in his dealings, Nigel wanted to know why no arrest had been made. Reading further, he learned why.

Subject under surveillance due to immense suspicions with reference to his participation in terrorist plots, etc.

Nigel sat back looking at the flat-screen monitor. Somehow the guy had to be stopped. Why do I think I’m getting a call on this case—sooner or later? It’s just a matter of time...

After filing everything on Murphy, he read the information on Sephora Collins. What he read about her impressed him.

Collins, Sephora—born 1973 in Santa Fe, New Mexico to old money family. Graduated from USC majoring in public relations. Sole heir to Sam Collins, deceased. Financially stable—money smart. Specialty—fundraising.

He learned nothing out of the ordinary about her but could not take his eyes off her picture. Printing everything, he filed it in a folder, only he kept the picture of her out. Touching her image sent heated waves of sensation through him, emotions awakening within for the first time in a very long time. What the hell?

The sound of incoming faxes caught his attention. Aaron had received the information he’d asked for, Nigel reading through each page as it came out of the machine. Nothing new, Aaron’s information confirmed what he already knew. Adding the new files to the existing ones, he sat back and thought. What the hell is going on?

* * * *

Sephora made a last minute phone call to the Museum of Fine Arts where the champagne reception would be held in a few hours. She had been fortunate the weather held because she had it set up for the courtyard under the stars. Even the moon would cooperate since the scheduled phase was full.

Yes, ma’am, the flowers are being finished now.

Perfect, I’ll meet you at six-thirty for last minutes details—if any.

Sounds good.

Sephora hung up then went to sink her body into a hot bath, a routine she never missed. Soaking in rose-scented water relaxed her before she went and dealt with the task of fundraising. Tonight’s event would benefit the museum itself, this one of the easier events to coordinate. She closed her eyes, losing herself in luxury.

God, this feels good.

An hour later, she emerged from the bathtub, dried off and walked into her dressing room naked. Having been single for a long while, her nudity didn’t bother her. A feeling of freedom accompanied her, her confidence in her