by Elle Kennedy
Just as she was about to voice her frustration, he shoved the cash in his pocket, glanced at the other men and nodded at the door. At the unspoken demand, the trio shuffled out of their chairs and practically scurried out of the room.
Eva was unable to hide her amusement. “They’re terrified of you, you know,” she remarked.
The corners of his mouth lifted. “As they should be.”
She suspected the warning had been aimed to unnerve her, but she received a strange sense of comfort from those four lethal words. Oh, yes. This man was exactly what she needed. Her uncle had been right about him. Then again, she really shouldn’t have doubted Uncle Miguel. When a San Marquez army general warned you that you’d be getting tangled up with a ruthless warrior, he probably wasn’t bluffing.
“So you are Tate, then,” she said bluntly.
He nodded and gestured to one of the unoccupied chairs. “I am. Now why don’t you have a seat and tell me what the hell it is you want from me.”
Unfazed by his short tone, she sat down, crossed her ankles together and met his stormy gaze head-on. “I have a proposition for you.”
He cut her off with a low rumble of a laugh. “Proposition, huh? Well, like I said, I’m not into whores. But—” he cocked his head “—maybe I’ll make an exception for you. How much, sweetheart?”
Her skin prickled with offense. “I’m not a prostitute! My name is Eva. Eva Dolce. And I traveled a long way to find you, so please, quit calling me a whore.”
Those green eyes twinkled for a second, then hardened into stone. “How did you find me, Eva? I’m not exactly listed in any phone books.”
“I heard rumors about you.” She rested her suddenly shaky hands on her knees. “Someone told me you might be able to help me, so I decided to track you down. I’m... Well, let’s just say I’m very skilled when it comes to computers. I studied Computer Science at Columbia and—”
“You’re from New York?”
“Yes. Well, I wasn’t born there. My parents decided to move to the States when I was a baby. I was raised in Manhattan, we lived on the Upper East Side and—” She halted, realizing she was babbling. She hadn’t come here to tell this man her life story, damn it. “Look, none of this is important. All that matters is that I found you.”
“Yes, using your trusty computer,” he said mockingly.
She bristled. “I’m good at what I do. I started the search at the military base in North Carolina.”
His jaw tensed.
“You’re good, too,” she added with grudging appreciation. “You left so many false trails it made me dizzy. But you slipped up in Costa Rica. You used the same identity twice, and it led me here.”
Tate let out a soft whistle. “I’m impressed. Very impressed, actually.” He made a tsking sound. “You went to a lot of trouble to find me. Maybe it’s time you tell me why.”
“I told you—I need your help.”
He raised one large hand and rubbed the razor-sharp stubble coating his strong chin.
A tiny thrill shot through her as she watched the oddly seductive gesture and imagined how it would feel to have those callused fingers stroking her own skin, but that thrill promptly fizzled when she realized her thoughts had drifted off course again. What was it about this man that made her so darn aware of his masculinity?
She shook her head, hoping to clear her foggy brain, and met Tate’s expectant expression. “Your help,” she repeated.
“Oh, really?” he drawled. “My help to do what?”
Her throat tightened. God, could she do this? How did one even begin to approach something like—
“For Chrissake, sweetheart, spit it out. I don’t have all night.”
She swallowed. Twice.
He started to push back his chair. “Screw it. I don’t have time for—”
“I want you to kill Hector Cruz,” she blurted out.
Chapter 2
He was normally quite skilled at reading people, but for the life of him, Tate couldn’t decide if the woman sitting across from him was for real. He also couldn’t stop the blood in his veins from turning into pure ice the second she uttered those three pesky little syllables.
Hector Cruz.
Tate didn’t bother interpreting the “I want you to kill” part. All it took was the sound of Cruz’s name and a dose of bloodlust flooded his body, making him want to reach for the gun in his waistband and start shooting.
Before he could stop them, a barrage of grisly images burned a path across his brain. The charred woman in the brown dress. The heat of the fire. Dead rebels strewn on the ground. Cruz’s coal-black glare. Will’s eyes rolling to the back of his head.
Bad call.
Tate’s hands curled into fists as rage consumed his body like poison. He’d been agonizing about the botched mission for eight months now. He dreamed it. Breathed it. Fed off it. The one thing that kept him going was the thought of slashing a blade across Hector Cruz’s throat and watching the bastard die.
And now this woman, this stranger who’d showed up out of the blue, was asking him to do just that.
But as tempting as it sounded, one look at Eva Dolce—if that was really her name—and all he could think was trap.
“I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not a hit man.”
“I know that.” Her voice wobbled. “But I also know that you want Cruz dead.”
He shot her a bored look. “Says who?”
“You’ve been asking questions about Cruz for the past eight months, inquiring about his whereabouts, attempting to bribe the rebels who follow him. You’ve made no secret that you want to rid Cruz from this earth.” She arched one eyebrow. “Do you deny that?”
Her matter-of-fact tone unnerved him a bit. Who the hell was this woman? And had she really tracked him down using nothing but a damn computer? She sure didn’t look like some hacker extraordinaire. With her long black hair, sapphire-blue eyes and smooth golden skin, she belonged on the silver screen rather than in front of a computer screen. And that body... Forget movie star—those long legs and the firm breasts practically pouring out of the bodice of her yellow dress were better suited for a lingerie model.
Who exactly are you, Eva Dolce?
“I don’t deny or confirm anything,” Tate replied with a shrug.
She seemed annoyed. “You want Cruz eliminated, Tate. So do I.”
All right. Now, that he might be able to believe. The anger and disgust that entered her big blue eyes each time Cruz’s name escaped her lush lips was unmistakable. But what was her connection to Cruz? Did she even have one?
Or perhaps she’d been sent here to lure Tate out of hiding. The people who were after him must be tired of slamming into the brick walls he kept placing in their paths, and he wouldn’t put it past them to send in someone like Eva, a sexpot agent to seduce their favorite target into slipping up.
But...if they truly had found him, why send anyone at all? And one woman, to boot. Why not order an entire platoon to storm this craphole bar and riddle the place—and Tate—with bullets?
He pursed his lips, suddenly second-guessing every damn thought that fluttered into his head. Maybe they were toying with him? No, that seemed unlikely. If the people hunting him knew where he was, they’d have been here by now.
Which meant this raven-haired beauty might actually be telling the truth.
“Why do you want him dead?” Tate asked sharply.
A cloud floated across her expression. He saw more anger swirling there, but it was now mingled with...fear?
“You’re scared,” he said before he could stop it. He wrinkled his brow. “What are you scared of, Eva?”
“Hector,” she whispered. Her chest heaved as she drew a deep breath. “That’s why I want him dead. Because as long as he’s alive, I’ll be scared for the rest of my life.” She exhaled in a rush. “He’s hunting me, Tate. For three years now. I can’t... God, I can’t keep running anymore.”
Her word choice—hunting—raised his hackles once more. Oh, he knew precisely what it felt like to be hunted. Was this a blatant attempt on her part to form some sort of camaraderie with him? To find common ground with the man she’d been ordered to...to what? Kill?
Battling his distrust, he pinned her down with a harsh glare. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”
She nodded, her delicate throat working as she swallowed. “Like I said, I was raised in New York, but I was actually born in San Marquez.”
Tate swiftly masked his surprise. So she hailed from the same South American island nation as Cruz. Interesting.
“After I graduated from college, I decided to return to my birthplace and do some good.”
When Tate laughed, her eyes narrowed. “My parents reacted the same way,” she muttered. “They called me a bleeding heart. But they couldn’t stop me from going. I kept seeing all this terrible stuff on the news—people dying, starving, suffering, and the government doing nothing to help them—so I joined a relief organization and began volunteering at a hospital in the mountains.” She took another breath. “That’s where I met Hector. Idiot that I was, I actually believed in his cause for a time.”
Tate stifled a sigh. Yeah, no surprise there. According to his sources, a lot of folks had been—and were still being—duped by Hector Cruz and his ULF crazies. The United Liberty Fighters had been formed to fight the oppression of the strict San Marquez government, but over the years their freedom-fighting mentality had veered off into borderline terrorism. They were responsible for the bombing of government buildings, along with the deaths of countless politicians, and they’d even started robbing their own people—the people they claimed to be fighting for—in order to fund their activities.
“We were friends for a while,” Eva went on, shamefaced, “but then he became obsessed with me. At the time, I was involved with another relief worker. John. We...we had a child together. Rafe—he’s three. But Hector decided I belonged to him, and he—” she swallowed again “—he had John killed.”
Tate stared at her thoughtfully.
“I ran away. I didn’t want to have anything to do with that crazy son of a bitch, so I took Rafe and I ran. But Hector is always on my heels. When I found out he was thrown in prison two months ago, I thought it would finally be over, but then his men broke him out and...” She trailed off in frustration.
He could relate—that damn prison break had royally screwed things up for him, too. Two months ago, Cruz had been responsible for bombing the home of a well-known political figure in San Marquez. In a major feat for the military, Cruz had been caught and arrested, and he’d been awaiting trial when his fellow rebels orchestrated an escape and whisked their leader right out of jail.
Since then, Cruz had gone underground. Nobody had seen or heard from him in months, which made it annoyingly difficult for Tate to locate the bastard.
“For whatever messed-up reason, Hector believes that he owns me.” Eva’s voice jolted him from his thoughts. “Every time I think I’m safe, every time I settle down in one place, he finds me.”
She grew quiet, her tale coming to a close, and an alarm went off in Tate’s head. Something about that sob story didn’t sit right with him. Something about it sounded...false.
“I’m tired of running,” she blurted out when Tate didn’t respond. “I just want that maniac to leave me alone.”
As misgivings continued to course through his head, Tate met her gaze and saw that the fear had returned. Whatever lies she’d just told him, she definitely wasn’t lying about her feelings for Cruz. She loathed the man. She was terrified of him.
Because he’d killed her lover? Because he’d developed a sick obsession that had sent her fleeing with her kid?
Raking a hand through his hair, Tate finally chuckled. “That was a nice story, Eva. I’m sure parts of it might even be true. But here’s the thing—I don’t trust you. I don’t trust anyone, for that matter. So I think I’ll have to pass on your proposition.”
Desperation exploded in her eyes like a round of fireworks. “No! You can’t. I know you’re after him, too.” Her features hardened in an expression that resembled defiance. “But you can’t find him, can you? He’s flown off the radar since he escaped from prison, and seeing as you’re on the run, you can’t exactly go traipsing around the globe looking for him, now, can you?”
He opened his mouth but she cut him off. “I don’t know why you’re hiding, and frankly, I don’t care. I just want your help to get rid of Hector.”
“Did it occur to you that I would need to come out of hiding in order to do that?” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve got my own problems, sweetheart. Like you said, I don’t have the luxury of globe-trotting, and even if I did, I won’t come along on a wild-goose chase for a man I may or may not want dead.”
“But you do want him dead.” Triumph crept into her voice. “And it won’t be a wild-goose chase. I know where his hideout is.”
Son of a bitch.
Tate faltered, unable to stop the rush of hope that swelled in his gut. She knew where Cruz was? He’d been trying for months to unearth the rebel’s location, and he’d come up empty-handed each time.
If this woman truly knew where Cruz was holed up...
He’ll kill me regardless... Forget about me, Robbie.
Like hell he would.
“And if you don’t want to go to his hideout,” Eva added, “all we have to do is find a way to contact him. Trust me, Hector will come to me if I make contact.”
He didn’t doubt her. With that gorgeous face and sexy-as-sin body, Tate couldn’t see any man staying away from Eva Dolce. Hell, he was semihard just being in the same room as her. But common sense and honed instincts trumped the unfortunate desire she seemed to inspire in his body.
Trust me.
Yeah, right. He wasn’t about to hand out his trust to a complete stranger. Especially not one as beautiful as her.
Not even one who can lead you to Cruz?
The nagging thought was the sole reason he didn’t turn her down outright. He wasn’t about to admit it, but she was right about one thing. He wanted Cruz dead. Annihilated. Wiped off the planet.
And he wanted it more than he wanted his next breath.
So...to trust, or not to trust.
Rubbing the stubble on his chin, he met Eva’s pleading eyes, then rose from his chair. “Where are you staying?” he asked briskly.
She blinked. “Camino del Paraíso—it’s that little motel on the east end of town. Room twelve.”
“I’ll contact you when I make a decision.”
She shot to her feet, despair radiating from her petite, curvy body. “Please,” she exclaimed. “Just give me an answer now. I need you, Tate.”
Shrugging, he shot her a sardonic smile. “If you need me that bad, sweetheart, then you’ll just have to wait.” His smile transformed into a rogue smirk. “Besides, don’t you know that anticipation is half the fun?”
As her eyes blazed with indignation, Tate strode out of the room without looking back.
* * *
“I don’t like it,” Sebastian Stone declared. “Are you sure she’s not messing with you?”
Tate downed the rest of his beer and set the bottle down on the ledge. “I’m not sure of anything. That’s why I’m running this by you boys.”
“I think it’s a trap,” Sebastian said flatly. “They must have found us.”
“Or they didn’t,” Nick Prescott chimed in. “And this chick really just wants Cruz dead.”
Tate swallowed a groan. Nope, didn’t surprise him that Stone and Prescott were yet again on opposite sides of an issue. Stone said up, Prescott said down. Stone wanted to go, Prescott wanted to stay. Out of all the men he’d commanded over the years, these two knuckleheads were the most difficult, stubborn and unbelievably exasperating.
But they were also loyal, intelligent and absolutely deadly when circumstances called for it.
&
nbsp; He glanced from one man to the other, his chest going rigid with regret. Two men. Eight men had been with him on that extraction mission in San Marquez. Only two were still alive.
“Or she’s dangling a carrot under the captain’s nose,” Sebastian grumbled in reply to Nick. “The jackasses after us have to know that Cruz is his weak spot. This is all just an elaborate trap.”
“The captain’s not an idiot. If it’s a trap, he’s not going to walk into it. But if there’s a chance to get Cruz...”
With a snort, Tate held up his hand to silence them. “The captain is standing right here. Quit talking about me like I’m not.”
They immediately went quiet, each one turning to gaze at the scenery below. Tate rubbed his temples and stared out as well, frustration gathering in his gut at the sight of the jagged brown peaks in the distance. The view, no matter how breathtaking, was just another reminder of how dire their situation was.
This isolated old fortress was nestled at the base of the mountain, and had stood abandoned for decades; apparently the Mexican government had no use for a crumbling pile of stone left over from the Mexican-American War of 1846. But it was the perfect place to lie low, and a decent stronghold with its tall watchtower and handy tunnel system. Ever since the shack in Costa Rica had been compromised, they’d been searching for a new hideaway, and this place had been a lucky find. They’d been holed up here for three weeks now, living on the mountain like a bunch of hermits.
Tate had thought the place to be safe, but clearly he’d been wrong. Because Eva Dolce had found them, and if she could, then so could the hunters.
“I think I might have to work with her,” he spoke up, his voice thick with reluctance.
Sebastian’s head swiveled around in surprise. “Are you nuts?”
“No, just practical.” He shrugged. “I don’t think she was sent here by our government, but if she was, then we can’t afford to let her out of our sight. We need to find out who she is and why she’s here.”
Sebastian made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “No disrespect, sir, but...don’t freaking patronize us. This has nothing to do with keeping an eye on that woman, and everything to do with avenging Will’s death.”
