The Mercenary

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  She winced. “Makes him sound like some piece of trash.”

  “El Jefe figured they had a bargaining chip when they captured him,” Tyler explained quietly. “Only they’re learning we don’t make deals with terrorists. There are other methods.”

  “Like sending you down here.”

  “I asked for the assignment.”

  “Because of what he’s done for you in the past.”

  “I owe him.”

  “And loyalty means a lot to you,” she concluded. She slipped out of his arms and prowled the narrow confines of the room. It contained only a small bed, a chest of drawers and a lamp. Not many places to hide a bug. Not much to make him forget about the bed.

  He watched her toy with the small cross at her neck, and wondered what was making her so nervous. “Aside from this Mendez guy, the guards all know you’re mine,” he said, hazarding a guess.

  She looked at him, her expression startled. Then it cleared. “I know what the dangers are here only too well, Tyler. I’m not worried about my safety, if that’s what you mean. I know you’ll take care of that.”

  He finally sat on the foot of the bed. The mattress was way too soft. If they slept on it together, they’d both roll toward the center. He shut off the thought. “Yeah, that’s what I mean.” What else? They’d been forced to depend on each other, they’d worked together, they’d slept together. But that was it. Wasn’t it?

  Wasn’t it?

  She started pacing again, telling him easily enough that her supposed married status was not what had her wound up. “If he is a bargaining piece, they’d be foolish to do something to him. What do they want in return?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just payback.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her down to his lap. “El Jefe’s drug money was making inroads into Mission Creek a while back. Westin was helping to put a stop to it. At the source, down here. I tell you, Marisa, once I find him, I’d like to blow this entire place to hell.”

  She looked startled. “You can’t. There are people here, people I—”

  “I know. I didn’t say I’d do it, I said I’d like to do it.”

  “Tyler, there’s something I should—” A pounding at the door accompanied by a shout startled her into silence. She jumped off his lap, as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I’ve got to go.” She reached for the doorknob.

  “Marisa.”

  “Hmm?”

  He thought about the guy who’d given him the warning. “Be careful. Stay with the other women. Don’t let anyone get you alone. Especially that Mendez guy.”

  She tilted her head, her lips parting. Then she smiled a little. “You be careful, too. I, um, Graciela said all the servants eat together after the main meal has been served.”

  “Then I guess you’d better save me a seat.”

  Her eyes flickered to the bed as color rose in her cheeks. “I will. Tyler, this is almost over, right?”

  “Soon as we get Westin out.”

  She moistened her lips and looked about to say something. But she didn’t. She just darted back to him and pressed a fierce kiss to his lips before hurrying out the door.

  Eleven

  “Get your hands off my wife.”

  At the furiously cold voice, Marisa nearly sagged with relief. She’d managed to wedge her arm between herself and Mendez, but had begun to despair of being able to avoid the man’s disgusting advances.

  “I said, get your hands off her.”

  Marisa shrank back as Tyler bodily pulled the beefy guard away from her. She’d seen the amount of wine the man had tossed back hours earlier at dinner, and could hardly believe he was still standing, much less taking a foolhardy swing at Tyler, who easily dodged it.

  But when Mendez turned like an enraged bull and plowed into Tyler, slamming him back against the big, commercial freezer against the wall, Marisa cried out. She ran over and grabbed him from behind.

  “Dammit, Marisa,” Tyler gritted as he deflected Mendez’s wild punches. “Get away from here before you get hurt.”

  “She’s a wildcat.” Mendez whirled around, with Marisa clinging to his beefy back like an annoying insect. “Takes two men to satisfy her.” He laughed.

  Marisa’s skin crawled. She tightened her arm around the man’s neck. He thumped her, hard, against the wall, and all the breath left her body. Her arms loosened, and she gasped for air.

  And then the man suddenly hit the floor.

  Marisa stared, dismayed, at Tyler who was standing over the unconscious guard. Her knees started to buckle and she slid down the wall. She drew in one painful breath after another as Tyler raked his fingers through his hair and stared back.

  “So much for staying inconspicuous,” he said after a moment. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. She felt as if she’d been hit by a truck, but she’d live. “Tyler, I didn’t encourage him. He—”

  “I know. You don’t have to explain.”

  Her lips parted, her heart skidding. “You believe me.”

  “Yes. Here, take my hands. Can you stand? Are you hurt anywhere?”

  She shook her head, letting him pull her to her feet. She gently touched his shoulder. He looked unnaturally pale. “He didn’t hurt you?”

  “You’ve got no business being involved in this, Marisa.”

  “Maybe I’m watching your back. Now, did he hurt your shoulder or not?”

  He smiled faintly. “I’m tougher than I look.”

  Her smile felt shaky. He was tough. But beneath that toughness, his heart was as vulnerable as anyone else’s, though she knew he’d deny it until his last breath. She looked down at the man sprawled on the floor. “What do we do with him?”

  A voice came from the doorway.

  “Put him where he can’t be found until you get the hell out of here.”

  Marisa turned in the direction of the voice. “Franco!”

  His hair was longer than it used to be, and his shoulders were broader. He was no longer a young man left alone with a baby and a broken heart. He was a man.

  Tyler had gone still beside her. “Franco?” His voice was soft, smooth. “Your brother Franco?”

  Marisa felt the world closing in on her. Tyler’s expression was hard. Franco’s was no better. She moistened her lips. She wanted her brother to stop his madness, but she wanted Tyler to find Phillip Westin, too. “Yes,” she whispered.

  Only Tyler had moved away from her to stand by the unconscious Mendez. “I don’t suppose this one told you where the cave was while he was pawing you?”

  “No.” And she felt like a fool because of it. The only reason she’d let Mendez corner her in the deserted kitchen at this late hour was because she’d believed that she could elicit information from the man.

  So much for that.

  “Of course, with a brother who’s part of El Jefe, you’re not likely to tell me, anyway,” Tyler continued. “No wonder Graciela let us in here like you were a long lost friend. You probably tossed around your brother’s name.”

  “Tyler, Franco’s not—”

  “What was the point of coming this far, Marisa? Why not just stick the knife in right from the start? Is there some particular thrill you get from doing it after you get me to fall for you?”

  Her knees went weak. “Tyler, I promise you—”

  “Spare me.” His lips twisted as he looked over at Franco, his big body braced for battle. “Well? You gonna issue more obscure warnings or do what you came here to do? Because you’re gonna have to take me out to stop me from getting to Westin.”

  Franco’s dark gaze bore into his before sliding to Marisa. He entered the big kitchen and quietly swung the door shut, flicking the lock.

  Tyler immediately scoped out other exits.

  “You need to leave here, Marisa,” Franco said flatly. “Soon. I don’t know who or what Westin is, and I don’t care. But the generals are gathering tomorrow night, and I’m finally going to avenge Jennifer.”
>
  Tyler paused. The tension between Marisa and Franco was thick, tangible. Marisa cast him a beseeching look that he couldn’t begin to interpret before she walked over to Franco, catching his hands in hers.

  “Getting yourself killed won’t bring back Jennifer, Franco. Lydia needs you.”

  Franco shrugged off her hands. He walked around the big island in the center of the room, watching Tyler warily. He crouched down beside Mendez, studying the man. “How did you even learn I was here? Nobody knew.”

  “Valencia knew.”

  “Valencia always did talk too much.”

  Tyler raked back his hair. “Somebody want to fill me in here?”

  Franco looked up at him. “There’s butcher twine in the cupboard behind you. Get it.”

  “You think twine is gonna hold me?”

  “Oh, Tyler, stop it. Franco isn’t part of El Jefe.” Marisa went to the cupboard herself and yanked it open, pulling out a thick spool. She handed it to her brother, who used it to secure Mendez’s arms behind his back.

  Franco looked up at Tyler. “Help me pull him into the closet there. With luck, he won’t be discovered until breakfast preparations begin.”

  Tyler exhaled impatiently. “I’m not doing one bloody thing until I get an explanation.”

  “Will you believe it, anyway?” Marisa whispered. Her eyes glistened. “I should have told you, Tyler, I know that. But Franco is just as much a victim as Westin.”

  Tyler glanced down at her brother. Franco had tired of waiting for assistance and was slowly dragging Mendez’s bulk toward the closet. “Right.”

  Marisa went over to help her brother. “We’re making too much noise. What if someone hears and comes looking?”

  Franco reached behind him.

  Tyler braced himself, ready for anything. But the other man merely held up the nine millimeter with his fingers. He set it on the counter and continued dragging Mendez. “Use that.”

  Tyler grabbed the weapon and checked the clip. It was fully loaded. He tucked it in the small of his back. Marisa wasn’t Sonya, he reminded himself. She was nothing like that witch. He exhaled and joined Franco, brushing Marisa aside. In seconds, Mendez was safely locked in the closet. “Who the hell is Jennifer?”

  “Lydia’s mother,” Marisa said softly, watching both men. Her heart ached for her brother. It ached for Tyler, for the words that he’d spoken in anger about falling for her. If it were true, she feared he’d never forgive her for keeping silent about Franco.

  “We were to be married,” Franco said. “As soon as she finished her assignment from the magazine.”

  Jennifer. It clicked and Tyler groaned a little. “Jennifer Tate.” His gaze pinned Marisa and she knew he was remembering the conversation they’d had before the plane crash. “The reporter.”

  “She did travel features for a London news magazine,” Franco corrected. “We met in Cozumel where I was working. It took me weeks to get her to go out. She was a few years older than me, but I convinced her.” His lips curled in a maudlin smile.

  “How did a travel reporter end up in this place?”

  “Jennifer wanted to be an investigative reporter, and she believed an exposé of El Jefe’s compound would gain her a reassignment on the magazine,” Marisa explained. “Franco didn’t know until she was found afterward where she’d been headed, or he’d have stopped her from coming here.”

  “I thought she’d gotten over the attack,” Franco murmured, his expression tormented. “We all did.”

  Marisa nodded gently. “She’d just become pregnant with Lydia that last time I visited Mezcaya before going to London.”

  “We planned to marry,” Franco murmured. “But she kept putting off the wedding, saying after the baby came. But she—”

  Tyler knew what the young woman had done. “And what are you planning to do? Destroy all the generals when they’re together sitting around the table tomorrow night? Franco, you’re one man. You can’t fight them all.”

  “And what is it you are doing here?”

  Tyler grimaced. He was prepared to take on however many as he had to in order to get Westin out of there. But he had at least ten years experience on Franco. He pulled out a stool and sat on it, drumming his fingers on the countertop. “We can’t wait until tomorrow night. Mendez will be missed long before then.” He looked at Franco. “All the servants are in their quarters for the night,” he said, looking pointedly at Marisa, who had not been in their quarters when she’d said she would be, which was why he’d come looking for her. “So it may be a good time. The guards are pretty minimal, too, from what I could tell.” He looked at Franco. “I don’t suppose you know anything about a cave around here, do you? I know there’s a series of caverns in Guatemala, and I suppose there are more like it here.”

  “Caves?” Franco’s expression suddenly cleared, and he grinned broadly. “Sí. The Cave. That’s what they call the dungeon. There’s no sunlight down there.”

  “A dungeon,” Tyler repeated with disbelief.

  “There are statues of Zeus and Apollo in the gardens,” Marisa said hurriedly. “El Jefe’s known for its excesses. Why not a dungeon, too?”

  “All right,” Tyler said. He stood and held out his hand to Marisa. She blinked, then took it, curling her fingers securely through his. “Franco, you show us to the dungeon and help me get Westin out of it, and I’ll take care of dismantling their operation for you.”

  Franco looked as if he wanted to argue.

  “Please, Franco,” Marisa begged softly. “Getting yourself killed is not going to help Lydia. Hasn’t she already lost enough to El Jefe? Tyler knows what he’s doing, I promise you.”

  The young man hesitated, then sighed heavily. “The entrance to the dungeon is from the outside on the north side of the building. Two guards at the door. One at the base of the stairs. Beyond that, I don’t know what you’ll find.”

  Marisa blinked back her tears. She looked at Tyler. “Thank you.”

  He blew out a noisy breath and hauled her close for a hard kiss. “Thank me once we get our butts out of here.”

  In the end, Tyler would look back and say the rescue went surprisingly smoothly. Marisa looked at him as if he’d lost his mind when he sent her back to the room to retrieve his backpack.

  By the time she met him on the north side of the darkened building, he and Franco had dealt with the guards there. Fortunately Franco had come up with something far more substantial than butcher twine to immobilize them.

  While Tyler set off the transmitter, Marisa distracted the guard at the base of the narrow stairs with nothing more than a wink and a toss of her long hair. Which left Tyler wondering just how dedicated El Jefe’s guards were.

  He glanced up at Marisa who was helping her brother tie up the third guard while he worked the lock in the iron door. He had to admit she was a distracting sight.

  “Hurry,” Franco hissed. “The guards change at midnight.”

  Tyler quickened his efforts with the lock, using the small tools that he’d pulled from the thick plastic lining of the daypack.

  At last, he heard the satisfying click. The door swung open and Franco directed the heavy flashlight into the depths.

  He held his breath, feeling Marisa come up next to him, clasping his hand anxiously as the golden light bounced over the walls and floor.

  And there, in the corner on a bare cot, sat a man, squinting into the light. “If you’re going to kill me, just be done with it,” he said in a hoarse, commanding voice.

  Marisa felt Tyler’s shoulders sag, and knew then that no matter how much Tyler had said about Phillip Westin, he’d barely glossed the surface of what the man meant to him. She covered her mouth with her hand, blinking back tears.

  “Not tonight, sir,” Tyler said. “We’d just as soon skip that part if you don’t mind.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Phillip Westin frowned. He tried to stand, but his legs were too weak. “Who is that?”

  “Friends,” Tyler said huskily
as he strode across the dark room and simply swung his former C.O. over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and carried him up the narrow flight of stairs.

  Behind him, Franco locked the guards inside the iron dungeon and then they were all racing silently for the gate. There was a guard on the opposite side, Tyler remembered from earlier that day when they’d arrived. Gritting his teeth against the renewed pain in his shoulder, he carefully lowered Westin to the ground, cursing when he saw the man had lost consciousness.

  “Where’s the backpack?”

  Marisa held it up, and he unzipped one pocket and pulled out the pack of gum. She stared incredulously. “I carried that around so you could chew gum?”

  “It packs a mean punch,” he whispered dryly. “Stay with Westin. You’re shielded right here by the bushes. Ricky should be here with the chopper in less than an hour.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Keeping my deal with Franco.”

  She caught his hand. “Tyler—”

  “I’ll be back, Marisa,” he said softly. “I won’t leave you.”

  Marisa never felt time drag so slowly as she sat there, cradling Westin’s head carefully in her lap, counting off the minutes by the pounding of her heart as she waited.

  She wished it were a cloudy night so that Tyler’s and Franco’s surreptitious movements around the buildings of the compound were not so obvious.

  And just when she thought she’d go mad from waiting, she heard a shout. Her heart stopped and she shrank back into the shadows as much as the bushes would allow.

  A flurry of footsteps sounded nearby, just as the sky filled with sound. Tyler grabbed Westin and Franco hauled Marisa to her feet. “Run,” Tyler yelled at Marisa as he kicked open the heavy gate. The guard on the other side lifted his weapon, but Franco grabbed it, knocking the butt of it into the man’s jaw. He sank like a stone.

  The last thing Marisa saw was Tyler’s grimace as he lifted Westin over his shoulders again and stumbled after them.

  Then the ground shook, and Marisa fell forward, crying out. Franco grabbed her, and still they ran. Ran toward the helicopter that was kicking up a blinding dust as it settled on the ground.