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option. And the war severely limits his options.”
    She frowned. “But there isn’t any fighting in St. George. The government regained control of the capital months ago.”
    Joe retorted, “Then why are there nightly bombings, kidnappings and assassinations in the city? Why does everyone who owns anything more than the shirt on his back hide behind locked doors after dark and sleep with a gun under his pillow? This town’s a real slice of paradise thanks to your father and the revolution he’s funding.”
    “What? My father—”
    Joe cut her off. “Forget it. Forget I said anything.”
    Not bloody likely. Her father funded the rebels? Actually, it made a certain kind of sense. It was exactly the sort of thing Eduardo would do. His ambitions certainly extended to buying an army and controlling a small country. Nausea rumbled in her gut. She didn’t want to think about the hundreds or thousands of people he was responsible for killing with this newest little venture.
    And as for Joe…wow. That was quite a speech out of him. Until now, he’d been pretty laid back about life. It was almost as if his act had slipped for a minute there. Like a mask of casual reserve had fallen away to reveal the passionate man beneath.
    But then he commented lightly, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to avoid marrying me, princess. What’s the matter? Aren’t I your type?”
    “Oh, you’re my type, all right,” she blurted out before she realized what she was saying. Her gaze snapped to his. Sure enough, he was staring a hole through her, his eyebrows quirked.
    Oh, God. Here came the taunting, the exploitation of the weakness she’d just shown him. She braced herself for his sarcastic comeback. But he said nothing. He didn’t make fun of her crush on him or laugh at her or even smile. In fact, the only thing he did was reach out in the dark and take her hand in his. Maybe he wasn’t the only one whose nerves were causing the act to slip a little too much tonight.
    The interior of the car went silent. They drove for a while toward an affluent residential section of St. George. Large homes nestled behind tall fences and iron gates and thick landscaping that hid most of them from view.
    “Where are we going?” she finally asked again, breaking the thick silence.
    The driver answered from up front, “To pay a little visit to a man named Miguel Cabot.”
    She gasped as the name of one of her father’s most loyal supporters congealed in a knot of horror in her throat. “Judge Cabot?” she managed to choke out.
    The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You know something about him that we don’t?” he asked.
    “Yeah,” she replied. “He’s got his hand so deep in my father’s pockets he could scratch Eduardo’s kneecaps.”
    Joe smiled beside her.
    “This isn’t a joke,” she hissed at him. “He’ll run straight to my father.”
    Joe nodded. “That’s the idea.”
    Huh? The skepticism rumbling in her gut must have shown on her face because Joe explained, “Who better to marry us? Someone your father will believe out of hand when the judge tells Eduardo we’re legally and properly married.”
    “But what if he calls my father before he does the ceremony and asks if it’s all right?”
    The driver answered casually, “He won’t.”
    “I’ll bet you a hundred dollars U.S. he talks to Eduardo first,” she retorted.
    “I’ll bet you a thousand he doesn’t,” the driver shot back.
    Carina blinked. For the hired help, the guy was pretty hostile toward her. She was generally well liked by the working classes in Gavarone because she tipped lavishly and was forever giving away ridiculous sums of money to the poorest among them. If this driver was Gavronese, he ought to be delighted to drive her in anticipation of a hefty reward.
    A suspicion that he was another member of Charlie Squad hit her and, just as quickly, froze into certainty. The driver had good reason to hate anyone