Conner moved the moment Marcos did, falling smoothly in behind him. He didn’t look at them, but his gaze moved restlessly through the room, taking in everyone. He gave the appearance of being able to describe in detail every single person—and Isabeau was certain he probably could.

“Come with me and make an old man’s day, Isabeau,” Alberto encouraged. “Let me show you Philip’s garden. He’s not a man you want to spend time with, but he does love beautiful things. His taste is impeccable.”

She had to agree that the house and artwork and even his furniture all bore the stamp of someone who loved beautiful things. They passed the case filled with instruments of torture and she shivered, afraid those things had been used numerous times on real people.

Alberto reached out and patted her hand. Again her cat leapt and hissed and her skin burned from that casual touch. She was close to the emerging. Too close. And that was a frightening thought. She suddenly wanted Conner to hold her close. They were firmly entrenched in a house of deceit with ruthless killers pretending to be civil. The crowd seemed friendly enough, and very curious, but she couldn’t trust any of them either.

She pulled her hand away gently, trying not to upset him. Alberto Cortez had been the friendliest face she’d seen. “Have you always lived here?” she asked, trying to make small talk.

“My family is one of the oldest in Colombia. Our holdings have expanded over time. My son was the first to have interest in Panama. I didn’t agree with his decisions, but he was strong-willed and his daughter is very much like him.” He looked up at his attendant. “Isn’t that right, Harry?”

“That’s right, Mr. Cortez,” Harry agreed, moving easily through the crowd. His voice was good-natured and his tone affectionate.

“How many times have I told you to call me Alberto?” the old man demanded.

“Probably a good million, Mr. Cortez,” Harry admitted.

Isabeau laughed. She liked the old man better for his easy camaraderie with his bodyguard.

Alberto drew his brows together. “And you, young Isabeau? Am I going to have the same problem with you? He makes me feel old.”

“He’s being respectful.”

“He can respect Imelda. She seems to need it. I’d rather just be plain Alberto, growing my favorite plants in my garden.”

“You’re a gardener?”

“I love working with my hands. My son and granddaughter don’t understand my need of the land and getting my fingers in the dirt.”

“I love plants,” Isabeau said. “Someday I’m going to have my own garden as well. Right now, I’ve been cataloguing medicinal plants found in the rain forest. I’ve done so both here and in Borneo. I’d like to go to Costa Rica next. The plants are amazing with the various uses. People have no idea how valuable they are for medicines, and we’re losing the rain forests far too fast. We’re going to lose those resources if we don’t get researchers moving on . . .” She broke off with a small laugh. “I’m sorry. It’s a passion of mine.”

Harry reached around the chair to open the French doors leading to the garden. She held them open so he could take Alberto through. The garden was enormous, humid and vividly green. Trees shot up, sending umbrellas of greenery shielding them from the night sky. She walked to the bench most visible to the side of the forest where she knew Jeremiah was secreted. He would have them in his sight and she felt a little more at ease, knowing he was there.

A small man- made stream ran over rocks, winding through the garden to culminate in a series of small waterfalls. Her body tightened just a little at the sound of water, reminding her of the feel of Conner’s body moving inside hers. She took a deep breath and let it out, inhaling the scent of roses and lavender.

Lacy fronds of various ferns lined the stream, and flowers turned one sloping bank into a riot of color. She recognized most of the plants and was amazed at how beautiful the layout was. “Philip has an extraordinary gardener. Look at how everything is placed. It’s beyond beautiful.”

Alberto beamed. “I’m glad you approve.”

She turned her head, astonished. “You? You designed this garden?”

He inclined his head. “A hobby of mine.”

“You’re very talented. This is art, Mr. Cortez.”

Alberto began to laugh and Harry joined him.

Isabeau grinned at him. “I’m sorry, Harry paid me to say that.”

Alberto roared with laughter. “You’re very good for this old man, Isabeau. I think I spend far too much time alone. Take a look around and tell me what you think.”

“You don’t mind?”

“No, I’ve seen it all, remember? I just want to watch your face when you discover all the various plants. I think you’ll appreciate this place more than any other.”

Isabeau’s weakness was plants. She couldn’t resist the invitation. Besides, she was curious.

“The garden encompasses an entire acre. The stream winds through the entire thing, and the terrain is rolling, so I used that to my advantage when I was designing the layout,” he explained. “I wanted everything to be natural but controlled.”

“Do you have a garden at home like this one?”

“Not exactly. I didn’t section it off from the rain forest. I just took what we had growing naturally and organized it a little.”

Harry snorted derisively. “He isn’t telling the exact truth, Miss Isabeau. You’ve never seen anything like it. His garden is much more beautiful than this. Orchids are everywhere. They hang from the trees like chains of flowers winding up and down the trunks. Even the trees and vines are kept shaped . . .”