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will you obtain this lead?"
    "I have my sources." Her brother, as always, was enigmatic, choosing only to share with her what he wanted. "I have not lived in America all this time and gained nothing."
    "But it was I who gave you the information you needed."
    " Si , you gave me a start. But my contacts, they are giving me the additional help I need. It was regrettable that there were complications before."
    "What kind of complications?" Isabella worked to contain her impatience.
    "It doesn't matter. What is important is that I have not failed. Only been delayed. You must have a little faith."
    "That's not as easy as you make it sound. If this falls apart, if word ever reaches Manuel that I have betrayed him with the Americans, then my life is worth nothing."
    "You are not the only one taking a risk, little sister." Carlos's reminder only made her angrier. Angry that she was a woman and could not handle such things herself. Angry that her brother had failed at something so painfully simple.
    "I am the one living a lie in the house of our enemy. He cannot know that I am helping you...." She trailed off again, staring at the closed door, assuring herself that she was still alone.
    Manuel Ortega was the president of Nicaragua, and as such he was privy to information that was invaluable to her family's organization. So when he had shown an interest in her, it had made sense to capitalize on his infatuation. Let him believe he had tamed Hector Ramirez's daughter. She knew that he had not.
    "It is a thin wire I am walking, Carlos. You know that."
    "But it is more than worth it if it helps us to gain vengeance. And I tell you I will find the truth."
    Isabella closed her eyes, reliving the horror of Sangre de Cristo. She'd only just turned ten, her childhood smashed in an instant of violence and blood, the man she loved most in the world brought down like an animal for slaughter.
    Even though it had been almost ten years, the memory shriveled her heart, leaving her empty except for the bitter desire for vengeance. Her father's killer lived in her brain, taunting her with the act. Her father's blood flowed across her mind's eye, leaving her drowning in her pain.
    Hector Ramirez had been betrayed, his legacy destroyed. And now, Isabella was left to hold his banner, to keep his dream alive. She was head of her family now. And as such, she must curtail her bloodlust. Allow her brother to pursue those who had dared to harm their family. Over the years, she'd found ways to make the others pay, but always the one who mattered most—her father's killer— eluded their grasp.
    But now they were so close.
    "I have given up much for you, Carlos. And for the family." She shuddered at the thought of Manuel's thick lips against her skin. "But it will all be worthwhile if you find the ones we seek and make certain that they pay."
    As the oldest, Carlos should have been the head of the family. Should have been the one to continue the fight for her father's cause. But the murder of her father and mother had changed her brother forever, his hatred robbing him of any chance at leading his people.
    So the job had fallen to her.
    And she had risen to the challenge.
    She alone protected her father's ideals. He had believed in his country, in his people. He had worked singlehandedly to overthrow the despots who tried to profit from their power, never seeing the people they destroyed in their quest
    Her father's methods had not always been the most pure, but he did what had to be done to protect the rights of all Nicaraguans. It took money to mount resistance, and the fact that the money came from questionable sources was simply part of the cost of freedom.
    She didn't have to justify it. Surely some evil was necessary in the fight for something so right?
    The sound of the door opening had her swiveling to hide the phone, her fingers fumbling to disconnect.
    Her heart stilled as she recognized Ramón Diego. The older man glanced behind him, satisfying himself