Soldier Under Siege

by Elle Kennedy

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Eva gulped as the Jeep ascended a dirt road that snaked its way up the mountain. It was pitch-black out. She couldn’t see a thing, save for the two pale yellow beams provided by the headlights. Tate obviously knew where he was going, though. He sped along the barely visible road with confidence, not bothering to reduce his speed.

  When he finally slowed down, she exhaled a rush of relief, then wrinkled her forehead when a foreboding gray fortress came into view, a structure she’d expect to see in a war documentary or history textbook. Shaped like a square, the fort looked old and unstable. Walls were crumbling away, and up above, the watchtower looked ready to tumble over, boasting several gaping holes where there should have been stone.

  “Nice place,” she murmured.

  “Safe place,” he corrected. He stopped in a small dusty courtyard and killed the engine. “It has a pretty complex tunnel system, leading out to various parts of the mountain. Lots of useful escape routes.”

  “Hector’s hideout is in the mountains, too,” she found herself saying. “The entrance is carved right in the rocks, almost completely hidden from sight.”

  His green eyes narrowed. “I see.”

  It took her a second to register the expression on his face as surprise. “You didn’t believe me,” she accused. “When I told you I knew where he was.”

  Tate shrugged. “I half believed you.”

  “And now?”

  Another shrug. “Three-quarters.”

  Eva almost laughed. She couldn’t quite figure out this man. One second he was as cold as ice, a lethal warrior who could probably kill her without breaking a sweat, and in the blink of an eye, he was a charming rogue, ready with a sarcastic remark, a mocking joke, a sensual grin. He completely unnerved her—yet at the same time, he made her feel oddly safe.

  “I’ll get your bags, you carry the kid,” he barked, back to business.

  She bristled. “His name is Rafe.”

  “Like I said, the kid.”

  As she hopped out of the Jeep to get Rafe, she ordered herself not to be annoyed that Tate viewed her son as a hindrance. What had she expected? That he’d welcome the idea of being saddled with a three-year-old? That he’d toss Rafe on his shoulders and parade him around with pride? Tate wasn’t Rafe’s father, for Pete’s sake.

  Oh, no. That honor belonged to a monster.

  Holding Rafe tight, she stuck close to Tate as they approached the old fort. They paused in front of a narrow door, and Tate rapped his knuckles against the rusted metal in what sounded like a secret code. There was an identical resounding knock, then a grating sound, and the door swung open.

  A shadow loomed in the doorway.

  Eva instinctively recoiled when a man stepped out of the darkness, but she relaxed once she got a better look at him. He was in his late twenties, with a handsome face, shaggy brown hair and warm, amber-colored eyes.

  “That was fast,” the man remarked.

  Tate gave that careless little shrug she was beginning to think of as his trademark. He gestured at Eva and said, “Eva, Nick. Nick, Eva.”

  Before she could greet the other man, Tate was ushering them all inside. She blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the dark as she followed the two men deeper into the fort. She stumbled after them toward the faint glow coming from the end of the corridor. A moment later, they entered a large chamber illuminated by dozens of candles that rested on the floor and various ledges.

  She studied the room, taking in the squalor with a frown. There were makeshift tables, a couple of metal chairs, the skeleton of a couch. She spotted a few sleeping bags, along with several big black duffels and a crooked wooden table littered with canned food. Another table in the corner housed a whole lot of laptops. A tall man with dirty-blond hair was bending over one of the computers, and his shoulders stiffened at their entrance.

  “This her?” the third man muttered, turning to examine Eva with a pair of suspicious gray eyes.

  She nearly flinched under his impenetrable gaze. This man couldn’t be considered classically handsome like his cohorts, but there was something very magnetic about him. His features were hard, angular, and his nose wasn’t quite straight, as if he’d broken it a time or two. He was sexy, though. Extremely sexy, in a stark, masculine kind of way.

  “Eva, this is Sebastian,” Tate told her.

  Wary, she met the other man’s angry eyes. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “So you want to kill Cruz,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

  She lifted her chin in resolve. “Yes.”

  Sebastian grumbled something under his breath, then cursed when he zeroed in on the bundle in her arms. “Is that a kid?”

  Jeez, what was it with these men? Had they never seen a child before?

  “Eva’s son, Rafe,” Tate filled in, sounding as disgruntled as Sebastian looked.

  “Here, let me take him,” Nick said with a genuine smile. He beckoned his arms at her. “He can sleep over here until we figure things out.”

  Warmth spread through her body. Finally. Someone who didn’t act like Rafe had the Ebola virus.

  “Thank you,” she said gratefully. “He’s getting a little too heavy for me to carry these days.”

  Smile widening, Nick plucked Rafe out of her arms and took him toward one of the sleeping bags. Eva watched in wonder as he tenderly smoothed out her son’s hair before placing him down on the cushy bag.

  “I love kids,” Nick said over his shoulder, covering Rafe with a thin wool blanket.

  “Do you have any?” she asked.

  “No, but my older sister has three little ones. Her twin girls are two, and their big brother is five.” He paused. “They’re probably enormous now—I haven’t seen them in six months.”

  It was hard to miss the melancholy chord in his voice, which had her wondering, why were these men on the run? She hadn’t given it much thought when she’d been tracking Tate—as far as she was concerned, his problems were none of her business. All she’d wanted from the man was his assistance in dealing with Hector, but now she couldn’t fight her curiosity.

  She swept her gaze from Nick, to Sebastian, to Tate. All three were clearly military, and all wore the same uneasy expressions, as if her presence had raised each of their guards.

  “If we do this, we’ll be leaving your son with Nick and Seb,” Tate said. He glanced at her as if seeking her approval.

  After a moment of hesitation, she nodded. “Okay. I think that could work.”

  Sebastian wouldn’t have been her ideal choice of babysitter, but Nick had won her over. Anyone who looked at a child with such tenderness couldn’t be a threat, right?

  Still, her chest tightened at the thought of leaving Rafe behind.

  “I’ll take good care of him,” Nick said, evidently sensing she needed the reassurance.

  She nodded again, the thick emotion clogging her throat making it hard to speak.

  “All right, so we’ve got babysitting duties out of the way,” Sebastian said rudely. “Can we focus on more pressing matters now?” He threw Tate a pointed look. “Like why the hell are we working with this woman and how do we know she won’t get us killed?”

  Eva jerked as if she’d been struck. Sebastian’s hostility rippled through the air like an invisible storm cloud. As indignation swirled in her belly, she shot a quick look at Tate in an unspoken request for backup.

  To her dismay, he merely offered her a sardonic smile and said, “Yes, Eva, tell us why we can trust you.” His smile went feral. “Tell us why I shouldn’t kill you right where you stand.”

  Chapter 4

  The woman was fearless, Tate had to give her that. Rather than cower under his and Sebastian’s deadly stares, Eva crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at them both.

  “You shouldn’t kill me because then you won’t get Hector,” she answered coolly. “And if you do kill me? With my three-year-old son sleeping less than ten feet away? Then you’d be the mos
t coldhearted bastard on the planet.”

  Tate lifted a brow in challenge. “Who says I’m not?”

  Those big blue eyes flashed with defiance. “Fine, you want me to call your bluff? Go ahead and kill me, then.”

  Their gazes locked for several long moments, and Tate couldn’t help but chuckle. He didn’t trust this woman, not in the slightest, but he did appreciate her steely fire.

  “Sit down,” he finally said. “Let’s talk details.”

  Eva’s shoulders remained stiff as she primly sank into a chair. Her black hair was twisted in a messy knot atop her head, and a few wispy strands slid out as she sat down, framing her beautiful face.

  She crossed her ankles together, drawing his gaze to the shapely legs covered by tight black leggings. Her gray V-neck T-shirt was loose but couldn’t hide the full, high breasts beneath it, and Tate’s mouth went dry as he remembered how firm those breasts had felt when they’d filled his palms earlier. He almost wished she had been wearing a bra, just so he could’ve watched her remove it.

  Down, boy.

  Yeah, he definitely needed to control this rush of desire. For a man whose libido hadn’t seen any action in eight months, a woman like Eva Dolce was the ultimate temptation. The perfect combination of vulnerable and gutsy, not to mention far too attractive for her own good. Sex appeal oozed from her pores, yet she seemed oblivious to it, which was either an act or she truly didn’t know the effect she had on the males in her vicinity. Even Stone, who clearly didn’t approve of Tate’s decision to team up with the woman, kept eyeing her in a purely masculine way.

  Ignoring the zip of heat moving through his veins, Tate lifted his gaze from Eva’s chest and focused it on her cagey blue eyes.

  “I suppose you want to talk money, right? I’ll pay whatever you want. Well, within reason,” she added hastily.

  He waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t want your money.”

  She looked surprised. “No?”

  “No. But if we do this, I want to leave as soon as possible.” He grabbed a chair, turned it around and straddled it. “Are you good to travel or do we need to set you up with documents?”

  “I’ve got papers.” She paused, her gaze drifting to the sleeping child across the room. “If you don’t want me to go with you, I could always stay here with Rafe. I’ll give you the exact location of Hector’s camp, and you can—”

  “No,” he cut in. “You’re coming with me.”

  Her dark eyebrows knitted in a frown. “No need to snap at me. I’m just thinking in practical terms—I don’t want to slow you down.”

  He flashed her a cheerless smile. “I’ve got all the time in the world, sweetheart. If I’m going to San Marquez, you’ll be coming with me. That’s a deal breaker.”

  “Why is that— Oh, I get it,” she said, understanding dawning on her face. “You still think I’m not being up-front with you.”

  “Do you blame me?”

  “No, I guess not.” She bit her plump bottom lip. “I’m not, by the way.”

  He arched his brows. “You’re not being up-front with me?”

  “I’m not leading you into a trap.” Exhaustion lined her face as she released a sigh. “I want him dead, Tate. I can’t keep running for the rest of my life.”

  Sebastian, who’d been leaning against the wall, stepped forward with a frown. “And why are you running?” he asked with a bite to his tone. “Are we seriously expected to believe that Cruz developed an obsession with you and is now spending his time and resources to locate you? That he’s wasting his hard-earned money to track down a piece of ass?”

  Eva didn’t even flinch. Again, rather than back down, she met Sebastian’s skeptical gaze head-on. “Are you friends with Hector?” she asked mildly.

  Sebastian blinked. “What? Of course not.”

  “Did you spend a year working in San Marquez and talking to him nearly every day?”

  “No,” Sebastian said, his jaw going rigid.

  “Did he ever share his hopes and dreams with you? Pursue you romantically? Call you his ‘heart and soul’?” Eva’s features hardened. “I’m going to assume the answer to those questions is also no. So, really, what makes you qualified to presume what Hector deems important enough to spend his time and money on?”

  Seeing Sebastian’s cloudy expression, Tate hid a grin, but Eva wasn’t done.

  “Maybe I am a piece of ass to Hector, but you know what? Clearly my ass is a big deal to him, because he’s been after it for the past three years. He’s hired investigators, sent men to tail me, has my parents watched, and every time I manage to disappear, he finds me.” Her voice wobbled. “I’m sick of being on the defensive. I want him dead, goddamn it.”

  “Mommy?”

  Eva’s face went stricken. Cursing softly, she hopped off the chair just as her son stumbled groggily off the bed platform Nick had arranged for him, clutching a small stuffed elephant against his chest. Her outburst had woken the kid up, and Tate stifled a groan as he watched the little boy dash into her arms.

  As Eva scooped the kid up, elephant and all, the boy peered past her shoulder, his blue eyes going as big as saucers when he spotted the three men.

  “Mommy, who are they?” the kid whispered.

  Eva’s tone was unbelievably tender as she answered, “These are some friends of Mommy’s. See the big one sitting over there? That’s Tate.” She crossed the room, stopping in front of Nick and Sebastian. “And this is Nick, and Sebastian.”

  “Hey, kiddo,” Nick said warmly, leaning in to ruffle the boy’s hair. “It’s way past your bedtime, huh?”

  “I had a scary dream.”

  Eva’s expression strained as she carried her son to the chair and sat down again. The little boy instantly wrapped his arms around her neck and his legs around her waist, clinging to her like a monkey.

  She rubbed his back in a soothing manner and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “You want to tell Mommy about it?”

  Tate smothered a curse.

  Jesus. What a messed-up situation. He wanted Cruz eviscerated, but saddling himself with this raven-haired sexpot and her snot-nosed kid? Not exactly his cup of tea.

  Well, all right, Prescott and Stone would be the ones wiping the kid’s snot, but Tate almost found that preferable to embarking on this journey with Eva Dolce.

  He didn’t trust her. It came back to that, and always would.

  Did. Not. Trust. Her.

  She’s going to lead you to Cruz.

  Tate held on to that reminder as he watched Eva kiss her son’s forehead. “Come on,” she coaxed when the boy didn’t answer. “Tell me about your dream.”

  “The bad men were there and you were screaming and then the booms got really loud and...” The kid trailed off and snuggled deeper into Eva’s breasts.

  Tate frowned. Why did he get the feeling that was a lot more than a dream?

  Over the top of her son’s head, Eva sought out Tate’s gaze and held it. “Cruz,” she said, barely audibly. “His men came after us in Istanbul last month.”

  She rose from the chair and carried the kid back to the sleeping bag. “Give me a few minutes,” she told the men.

  As Eva tended to her son, Tate strode toward the table where Sebastian had set up the laptops. Both Stone and Prescott were damn good with computers, but so far, neither of them had managed to uncover why their own government was determined to kill them.

  “I don’t trust her,” Sebastian muttered.

  “Preaching to the choir,” Tate mumbled back.

  Nick spoke up in a quiet tone. “Her story checks out.” He gestured to one of the laptops. “Orlando just got back to me about the info request we put in.”

  Tate leaned down and scrolled through the documents on the computer screen. His gaze flicked over the birth certificate, school transcripts, the application she’d filed with the Helping Hands relief foundation.

  The documents backed up the story Eva had fed them, but then again, that meant absolutely not
hing. Any agency worth its salt would produce the paperwork needed to corroborate an agent’s cover story. If Eva Dolce was an agent.

  “You’re good,” came her grudging voice.

  He glanced over to see Eva standing next to Nick, peering at the screen. He shifted his gaze and saw that her kid was sound asleep again, curled up on the sleeping bag.

  “I made contact twenty-four hours ago and you’ve already got your hands on my high school transcripts,” she remarked.

  “The credit’s due elsewhere,” Nick admitted sheepishly. “Our information dealer compiled all this.”

  “Information dealer, huh?” She sounded bemused. “Maybe I should’ve gone into that line of work.” Her tone took on a cocky note. “Because I’m pretty sure I had your high school transcripts in much less than twenty-four hours.”

  It took Tate a second to realize she was talking to him. “Bull,” he shot back.

  The corners of her mouth lifted. “D-minus in tenth-grade English. What’s the matter, Tate? Can’t read? Were you one of those kids who slipped through the cracks?”

  Nick snorted, and even Sebastian managed a reluctant smile.

  “Funny,” Tate grumbled.

  Tenth-grade English... Yep, that was the year he’d missed three months of school after his old man broke both of Will’s legs. Someone had needed to stay home and take care of his little brother.

  He decided not to mention that. Let Eva think he was a dumbass. Playing stupid was never a bad strategy, and he could use it to his advantage if needed.

  Eva’s blue eyes abruptly turned somber. “But I can see from your expression that my background check doesn’t convince you of anything, does it? You still don’t trust me or believe I’m telling the truth.”

  He shrugged and moved away from the computer. “I’m more of a gotta-see-it-to-believe-it kind of man.”

  “So you won’t believe I can lead you to Hector’s camp until you see it with your own eyes?” Without waiting for his answer, Eva gave a determined nod. “Fine. Let’s make you a believer, Tate. When do we leave?”

  “Dawn,” he said briskly.

  “Are we flying direct?”