Hello all! I am sorry that this chapter took so long to post, but the characters were very uncooperative, especially Marco. I had not intended for this chapter to be as long as it is, but they were very insistent. No action in this chapter, but a few tidbits, hopefully you guys will think they are good ones.

Thank you for all your continued reviews and words of encouragement. I really try to respond to everyone who leaves a review as a way of saying thank you. Your reviews are the only gauge I have to how well the story is going and if you are enjoying it.

Chapter 9: Marco Luis Solvarna Azul

Marco sat slumped in a large arm chair, his thoughts lost in a past that for him seemed like just yesterday. His gaze shifted to the gilt framed picture he was holding, a gift from his wife on their wedding day. The picture went with him everywhere, a constant reminder of a life that had ended first when his youngest brother was lost to them, and second when Mauricio died in his arms.

His eyes moved over the face of his youngest brother, a child with glossy black hair, large dark brown eyes, and a smile that lit up the world. He had adored the little boy, and rightly so, an unbreakable bond having been forged between them when he had to assist his mother in delivering the baby.

He had been so scared, only fourteen at the time, and alone in the house with his mother and sisters, as a ferocious storm raged around them. The baby wasn't due for a few weeks, but his mother had taken a tumble, causing her to go into early labor. It had been a frightening experience, one he would never forget, but when Marco had safely delivered the boy, he was overcome with an adoration that would go unmatched, until he held his own child.

His gaze then moved to his brother, Mauricio. The two of them were almost identical in appearance, the only noticeable difference being the color of their eyes. Marco's were a deep, mysterious shade of green, where Mauricio's were a dark brown, like warm chocolate, like pequeno's. He had lost both brothers, and the pain was so searing, it often left him anguished, and profoundly bereft.

Marco shifted his attention to the smiling countenance of his sisters, Catalina and Ilianna. They were twins, not that anyone would know as they looked nothing alike. Ilianna, even as a child, was small, graceful, and beautiful beyond compare. She shared the same dark eyes as their siblings, but unlike them, she didn't have dark hair, instead Ilianna's was like spun gold; just as his mother's had been.

Catalina had been a spitfire from the moment of her birth, with a wry smile, Marco realized she still was. She had often felt overshadowed by her twin's beauty, and had gone out of her way to gain attention; including one stunt that landed her in the hospital for two months. Somehow, she had managed to make it to adulthood, earning a degree in genetics along the way, and marrying the one man in the world who never looked twice at Ilianna.

It was a miracle that either of his sisters managed to turn into wonderfully strong women, devoted wives and adoring mothers. They had been just ten years old, when their mother and little brother disappeared, and they had been trapped in the house when it was set ablaze. The girls never talked about that night, and Marco could only guess what they had been witnesses to. After wards, they had been left unattended for long periods of time as their father became obsessed with his search for his wife and son. It had taken Marco two years to convince his father that the girls needed some one other than the servants to care for them. That stroke of genius had brought Cass into his life.

The rustling of fabric, and a small cry brought his attention to the bassinet sitting next to him. He sat up, peered into the bassinet, and was met by the steady gaze of a wide awake baby. Marco reached in, scooped up the boy and his blankets, resettling them into his arms.

"Ah, you want to hear about Cass too," he said. "You have good taste in women, pequeno."

Marco stilled, his eyes closing as pain and grief swept through him. Pequeno, little one; the nickname he had used for his youngest brother. He felt the baby's hand tighten around his pinkie finger, and he opened his eyes to look at the small bundle he held in his arms. The baby's hair was so soft and silky, a beautiful cap of obsidian strands that graced his small head. He wasn't as dark as Manoso, instead a smooth, creamy caramel, a perfect foil for his black as night hair. If genetics held true, then like his father and uncle, he would be a big boy, given more to brawn than lankiness, and he would have a face that would make angels weep with envy. His newborn eyes would change, gain focus and probably turn dark, but there was a small chance he would have his mother's eyes, eyes that Marco knew were blue as a summer sky.

"But you wanted to hear about Cass, and how fate threw her into my life," Marco said shifting the baby to his shoulder.

"I'm thinking he's more interested in eating," Cass said, walking towards them, a plain brown box in one hand, and a baby bottle in the other.

"This little guy does not need to hear how you coerced me into taking care of those hellions you call your little sisters," she replied, putting the box down on the table and taking the baby from him.

"As I remember it, you damn near bankrupted me before taking the job," he countered, watching as she settled onto the small couch across from him.

"I wasn't there for a job," she said, her eyes hot as she remembered the events that had transpired between them that day.

Cass had finally decided to confront the neighbors, who were making it difficult for her grandfather to get some much needed peace and rest. He had been on the losing end of a battle with cancer, and the loss of her grandmother a few short months ago, had pretty much signaled the end. Her parents agreed, that he needed solitude, rest and some place quiet to die. They had purchased a beautiful, modernized villa, that came with a few acres of land, a gorgeous view of the Andes, and the neighbors from hell.

She tried very hard not to take her frustration out on the elderly woman who answered the door, but the little old lady was like a pit bull, and before she knew it, Cass was in an heated argument with the woman. She had told the woman she wasn't there to disturb the young masters, just kill them, and that shouldn't disturb them too much, and she could do it without making too much noise or mess.

The old dragon hadn't taken kindly to her words or attitude, and Cass began to think she'd be doing someone a favor if she got rid of the old bat, as well as the heathens from hell. She had been just about to leave, vowing to come back later; when she was stopped dead in her tracks, all the oxygen leaving her body in a rush.

The man who came down the steps was beyond drop dead gorgeous; he was more like bring you back to life gorgeous. Big, heavily muscled, midnight black hair, and eyes the color of emeralds pinned her to the spot, causing all sorts of unwanted reactions to go through her. He hadn't looked pleased; in fact, Cass was certain she had worn that exact same expression an hour earlier.

"Please tell me you are not here to interview for the open position," he said, sweeping her with a look of utter contempt. She wasn't aware that he had heard every word that had passed between her and his housekeeper. Cass felt her blood boil, as his arrogance hit her square in the face.

"You couldn't afford me," she spat back at him. "Plus, I have no desire to work for someone like you."

"Someone like me?" He asked, his voice going soft, dangerous, and husky. She saw the burst of hot desire flare in his eyes, followed quickly by a body going hard with intent.

Unable to stop herself, Cass trembled as his tone washed over her. Her over active imagination flashed images of him, commanding, naked and hard. She had to get out of here, had to get away from him before she did something she would regret; or maybe not regret. She turned blindly, her only thought to get out the door, back to the villa, to get as far from him as she could. But the door wouldn't open, no matter how hard she tried, it wouldn't budge.

"Are you afraid of someone like me?" He asked, one large hand keeping the door firmly closed, the other snaking around her waist to draw her against him.

She thanked God that he couldn't see her face, couldn't see her cheeks go scarlet, or the desire that caused her eyes to darken. Cass could feel him pressed against her, not threatening, he wasn't trying to scare her, but her heart still pounded in her chest, and she knew that he realized the effect he was having on her.

"I apologize for my behavior," she said, her voice raspy. "It was rude of me to take my anger out your housekeeper; if you release me, I'll go and not bother you again."

She would find a way to keep the noise of their ATVs from bothering her grandfather. It was only a few more weeks before she would return to the city, return to university; she could make it until then. After all, she had been here for six weeks as it was, and this was the first time she had actually seen one of the heathens.

"But I don't wish to let you go, mi querida," he said.

Marco knew he was playing with fire, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. The woman he held against him, was so soft, so beguiling, and he had no intention of denying himself, or her. She didn't know it yet, but he was going to make her an offer she would be unable to refuse; anything to keep her close, anything to make her his.

"I am in need of some one to take care of my sisters," he said, turning her to face him. What he saw made him draw in a shaky breath. She wanted him, it shamed her, but she wanted him none the less.

"I am not free to take an offer of employment," she responded, grateful that she would be returning to the city, and therefore unable to stay. "I will be returning to my studies at the university in a few short weeks."

"That is perfect," he countered. "I have enrolled my sisters in a private day school in the city, as well as leased a large apartment for them and their caretaker. You could attend your classes while they are at school. You would have a car at your disposal, a generous household budget, as well as a substantial personal salary. If that's not enough, I can also settle your university bill."

He had her, he could tell by the look in her eyes that she could not, would not refuse his offer. He knew nothing about her, didn't even know her name, but everything in him demanded that he chain her to him, and he never went against his instincts.

"You hadn't been there for a husband either," Marco said, drawing them both back to the present.

"Then I guess it worked out for both of us," she said with a smile. "You know we could try again?"

"Cass," he started, his voice strained. "It is a risk, one I am not willing to accept."

Marco picked up the box she had brought in earlier. It was addressed to him, in care of his New York office; but there was no return address, no stamps, no postmarks. He felt a frisson of apprehension slide through him. He had lots of enemies, lots of people who wanted him dead, and they would go to great lengths in their attempts to achieve their goals. He wouldn't put his wife in danger, and for reasons he wasn't ready to examine, he wouldn't put the baby at risk either; he would open it somewhere else.

"Rafe already had it examined for explosives, as well as contaminates," Cass said, having already anticipated his reaction.

"You both know me well," he replied with a chuckle, as he tore the box open.

Marco pushed gray Styrofoam peanuts out his way, and carefully lifted out a what looked like a white photo album trimmed in pink. He frowned, thinking that some one had made a mistake, and took another look at the box. It was addressed to him, no it was addressed to him and Cass; El Sr. y la Sra. Marco Azul.

He carefully opened the book, not sure what was inside, not sure he really wanted to know. The first picture had him cursing God, as a pain so deep took hold of him. It was a picture of his baby girl, the same one that graced a shelf in his office at home. She had been so beautiful, so like her mother, with her large, doe brown eyes, dark reddish brown hair, and a smile that could take your breath away. He drew his finger along the picture, across her cheek.

Marco was about to close the book, he couldn't look at pictures of his baby girl, she hadn't made it to her first birthday. Like so many others, she had died that night, the night from hell, the night of fire and rain. Mauricio had told him with his dying breath that Isadora was dead; that everybody at the villa had perished in the fire. One more sin for Marco to lay at Carlos Manoso's door.

He turned the page, expecting to see the same picture of Isadora, instead the page contained scenes from a birthday party. A dark haired baby, liberally streaked with cake and icing, smiled at whoever was holding the camera. The next page showed the same baby, a little older, surrounded by a large Christmas tree, and shiny wrapped presents.

Page after page, was filled with pictures of the baby growing into a cute little girl, chronicling the events in her life. First steps, first word, first day at school, vacations, birthday parties, and then a series of pictures with Isadora being held by Manoso, of him giving her birthday presents, of the two of them playing on a deserted beach. Marco saw red, fury building in him at what he had lost, at what Carlos had taken from him.

"Son of bitch!" He roared, making Cass and the baby jump. "I am going to kill him."

"What?" Cass asked, looking at him, suddenly afraid at the look on his face.

"Isadora," he breathed the name. His eyes locked with her's over the top of the baby's head. "He took Isadora; she is alive, somewhere our baby girl is alive."

Stephanie had decided to doze on the couch, not wanting to be alone, but desperately needing rest before exhaustion claimed her. Some one had draped a blanket over her a couple of hours ago, and after she had been asleep for awhile, she heard Ranger's quiet voice join the others as they continued to make plans.

Bobby had taken Ranger, and his black case to one of the bedroom upstairs. She had noticed that Ranger was beginning to look at little pale, and that his body would shake slightly, small tremors running from head to toe. It didn't take Bobby long to notice either, and when he grabbed his case, Stephanie saw Ranger follow him quietly from the room. That more than anything told her Ranger was hurting, and that made her hurt.

But that had been a few hours ago, and when she heard Ranger rejoin the group, she allowed herself to relax, and fall into a deeper sleep. She was plagued by dreams of her son crying, and her unable to find him. Someone taunted her, laughed at her efforts, and ultimately moved the baby further and further out of her reach, until his cries became distant, and then disappeared altogether.

She woke with a start, the sound of raised voices pulling her completely awake. Someone had stoked the fire, making the room comfortably warm. Stephanie opened her eyes, saw Hal stretched out on the sofa across from her, and Tank stuffed into a large chair with matching ottoman. Hal winked at her, bringing a quick smile to her lips.

"Carlos," Hollis said on an impatient sigh. "You risk a lot in telling her everything. You have a job to do, a obligation to your country."

"An obligation to my country?" Ranger asked, the tone sarcastic, hard. "This is a personal issue now, that madman has my son, and a grudge to settle, with me. Not my country, hell, technically I'm not even an American citizen."

"You know Avery took care of that," Hollis said, scowling ferociously at Ranger.

"Yeah, but only when they realized how it would benefit them," Ranger threw back at her. "I'm not even sure what name they put on my birth certificate."

Stephanie shook her head in confusion; what were they talking about? Ranger, not a American citizen? Not knowing what name was on his birth certificate? She knew he had secrets, that there were things she didn't know about him, but this sounded surreal. She stood up, seeing that Hal and Tank stood as well. Dax was standing at Ranger's back, slightly to the left, while Hollis stood in front of him.

"Carlos," she began, her expressive eyes wide with concern. "I don't know how hard this is for you, but one wrong move; we all know what one wrong move could do ."

"Yes Hollis, I know," Ranger said, taking her small hands within his, and then drawing her into his arms. "But Stephanie is a part of this, and I have to stop hiding, stop running."

"Ranger?" Stephanie asked, causing him to turn towards her. "Why wouldn't you know what name is on your birth certificate? Wouldn't it be, well your name?"

He gave her a crooked smile, a little shrug of his shoulders.

"Maybe, maybe not," he answered.

"Why?" She asked, determined to get a straight answer.

"Well," he said, his voice low. "Ricardo Carlos Manoso, died from complications of pneumonia at St Francis Hospital about twenty nine years ago."

Alrighty then! If you have a chance, please leave a review, even if it is just one word. Every review is greatly appreciated!