As she sat down at her desk to clear up some priority items, that idea began to take on more appeal. Carlos Santeras, the man Hugh was last reported seen with, lived somewhere in the hills that bordered the city of Rio. It wasn’t as if she would have to trek through the jungle if she decided to pay him a visit; she could just make some discreet inquiries. At least she’d be down there instead of sitting helplessly behind a desk!
An hour later Randy was locking up to go home. The dimmed lights in executive row told her she was the last to leave as she made her way down the hall to the elevator. She rolled one shoulder and then the other, loosening tight muscles. The last few days had been exhausting, and she was running out of strings to pull to find Hugh.
The express elevator came and took her down to the subterranean parking garage. As the doors swooshed open, she stepped out absently, then hesitated. A sound that resembled laughter alerted her that someone was there.
“Who is it?” she asked an instant before spotting him. The large, shaggy-haired man who moved out of the shadows was the last mercenary she’d interviewed. “What do you want?” she asked.
He walked toward her, making a strange rattling sound that might have been laughter. It was hard to tell because he wasn’t smiling. But Randy didn’t have to ask her question a second time. It was obvious what he wanted by the malevolent gleam that lit his eyes. She stepped back into the elevator and jabbed the DOOR CLOSE button.
He rushed the door and jammed it with his body.
“Help!” Randy screamed as he caught hold of her arm and hauled her toward him. She jerked back frantically, kicking at him and trying to press the button at the same time.
“Let go!” she screamed, hitting him sharply in the shin.
“Come here,” he snarled, dragging her into his arms. The alcohol on his breath choked her as he plastered her against his massive body. He locked a beefy arm around her neck and jerked her head back, paralyzing her as he ripped out the neckline of her blouse. Randy screamed as seams popped and buttons went flying.
“Stop!” she gasped as he tightened the armlock. He was cutting off her breathing. She was going to black out! Her vision went spotty, static dancing wildly in her head, and her legs folded, sagging together.
She was slipping into unconsciousness as her attacker let out a roar of pain, then lurched forward. Randy was too weak to stop him as he tumbled into the elevator on top of her. They both crashed to the floor, the impact of his dead weight knocking the wind out of her.
Dazed, she saw the elevator doors close, sealing off her only route of escape. She struggled to get out from under him, but she couldn’t move. She was locked in the elevator with him! Her terrified shriek bounced off the walls.
Four
RANDY TWISTED AND SHOVED, struggling in vain to push the mercenary’s weight off her. Panic gripped her as she searched for some way to get free. He appeared to have been knocked unconscious, but he was beginning to stir. His soft moans told her he was waking up.
She spotted her purse and grasped for it, thinking to use it as a weapon. But as her fingers touched the chain strap, the elevator doors flew open and Geoff Dias surged inside. He dragged the man off her, slammed him up against the elevator wall, and reared back to hit him.
Geoff’s fist stopped in midair as the man slumped forward, seemingly out cold. Geoff considered the mercenary’s bobbing head and slack jaw for an instant, then released him and stepped back, letting him slide to the floor.
Randy struggled to get up, but before she’d made it to her feet, Geoff was pressing a button that would send the elevator rocketing to the top floor. “Let’s go!” he said, catching hold of her and pulling her with him through the closing doors.
They rushed through the gloom of the garage, past Randy’s car, and up the ramp that would take them to the street level. Randy was thoroughly winded by the time they reached Geoff’s motorcycle and too dazed to protest when he lifted her up and settled her on the bike’s passenger seat.
He swung onto the bike, twisted the key, and stomped the kick start, but even the roar of the powerful engine couldn’t startle Randy out of her dazed state. They’d gone several blocks before she was clearheaded enough to fully comprehend what was happening. Geoff Dias had just rescued her and now she was flying off into the dark heart of the night with him on his motorcycle.
She hated motorcycles! But there was no way to remind him of that now. He was going much too fast, and the wind was whistling so loudly in her ears, she couldn’t have made herself heard anyway. She knew they must be breaking several laws—the speed limit for one, the helmet law for another, but she couldn’t concern herself with that now. Her first priority was staying alive, she told herself, which meant hanging on and praying.
She clutched him tighter and ducked her head down, burrowing into the shelter of his powerful shoulder blades. His long blond hair flew around her like a protective cloak. She hadn’t had any reason to be grateful for his size before, but right now she was glad he was a big man. He felt reassuringly strong and warm, and she actually allowed herself to relax for a moment, to trust that he would deliver her safely to wherever they were going.
It was an odd feeling, trusting a man. She didn’t plan to indulge the sentiment long. Especially with a man like Geoff, who was too much like the men who came and went in her mother’s life. Randy had often wondered if witnessing Edna’s romantic disasters had left her incapable of trusting the male gender. She’d thought she trusted her fiancé completely, but her suspicions about Hugh’s fidelity had been immediately aroused when he hadn’t returned as planned from Brazil.
A horn blared and Randy gripped Geoff tighter, forgetting all about moral dilemmas. They shot through an intersection, and the bright lights and crowded streets reminded her that her predicament was more than merely life-threatening. It was embarrassing. Her skirt had crawled up so high, the control top of her pantyhose was showing, her blouse was ripped open, her collar was flapping in the breeze, and she was wrapped around Geoff Dias like a Band-Aid on a blister.
The bike tilted suddenly, arcing into a curve. Randy closed her eyes, astonished at the torque of the huge machine and the strength of the G forces pressing down on them. It felt as if Geoff were going to lay them out on their sides. Images of tumbling bodies and bloody, broken limbs screened through her mind. But a moment later they’d come out of the turn, straightened, and were whooshing into the darkness again.
He’d gone off the beaten track, Randy realized, looking around her. They were on a road that was largely residential and very quiet at this time of night. As he slowed the bike down, she became aware of how deeply her fingers were digging into his flesh. He was wearing a T-shirt, but she could feel the tension in his stomach muscles, the heat and resilience.
She relaxed her hold, aware of vibrations in her fingertips. Was it his body quivering? Or hers? The warm, tingly sensations buzzed in other, more sensitive places as well, such as the part of her anatomy she was sitting on. She could see where a long ride on one of these machines might be quite stimulating. Perhaps that explained what had happened to her the last time she’d been on a motorcycle behind him. Somehow in that night’s wild ride, she’d found her hands in an area much more dangerous than his ridged stomach. But how she got her hands all the way down there she still didn’t know.
He would probably say she did it intentionally, that she was looking for forbidden thrills. And considering the other things she’d done with him that night, a jury would undoubtedly have agreed with him. But Randy was convinced some dark force had taken possession of her will that night. From childhood she’d been haunted by the fear that a destructive impulse was lying in wait to prove to her that no matter how hard she tried to fight it, she really was a bad girl, a pushover for a handsome scoundrel, just like Edna.
“What are you doing?” Geoff yelled back at her, gunning the engine as they headed for a steep hill. “Hang on!”
Randy hadn’t realized she’d let go. Sh
e grabbed hold of him as the bike surged upward, clinging to great handfuls of his cotton T-shirt and fighting to anchor herself.
“Hang on to me,” he shouted. “Unless you’re trying to rip my shirt off. In which case, help yourself.”
She clamped her hands to his midsection and glued her body to his, hugging him with her thighs as they shot over the crest of the hill, went airborne, and literally flew down the other side. There was no way to avoid gluing herself to him! It was that or get thrown off the bike.
They landed with a resounding thud halfway down the hill. But it wasn’t until they’d swooped to the bottom and leveled out that Randy realized her fingers had worked their way inside one of several large holes in his T-shirt. He was perspiring lightly, and the feel of his moist, bare skin sent her mind reeling back again to that other time when her hands slipped.
When she’d first realized what part of him she was touching that night, she’d jerked her hands away. But by then it was too late. Her senses had been awakened, her imagination aroused. Excitement had streamed through her in a quivering current, galvanizing her like an electrical shock.
Before she knew it, she’d been touching him there again, perhaps even caressing him, fascinated by the heat and hardness pouring out of him, by the havoc she could wreak with her hands. She hadn’t been able to control herself. And then he’d lost control too. He’d found a dark place to park the bike, and he’d taken over from there—
A dark place? “Stop!” she cried out as Geoff turned off onto an even more isolated street. “Where are you taking me? What are you doing?”
He slowed down the bike and glanced over his shoulder. “Unless something’s changed,” he said wryly, “I’m rescuing you from the bad guy.”
“Oh ... yes, right. And don’t think I’m not grateful,” she assured him, wondering if it was safe to let go of him now. The memories of how magnificently aroused he’d become that night, of what they’d done in the dark alley where he’d pulled the bike, were whirling in her mind.
“Are we going to stop anytime soon?” she asked him breathlessly. “I’m sure he’s not following us, and I’d like a moment to collect myself.” And get off this rolling vibrator.
He pulled the bike over to the curb and cut the engine. He’d stopped by the playground of a school yard, and in the sudden silence Randy’s hearing sharpened. The playground was deserted, but she could discern the soft creaking of the swings in the night breezes. The sounds sent a strange rush of longing through her. As a child living in a musty and depressingly tiny walk-up, she’d fantasized about a house with a backyard and a swing set. Somehow those things had signified a normal life, with all the love and security of a close-knit family. At times the yearning had been so acute, she’d stolen into more affluent neighborhoods and watched the children at play, imagining she was one of them.
As she gazed at the playground, Randy sensed Geoff Dias was staring at her. He’d twisted around on the bike and was studying her as if he understood about back yards and swing sets, maybe even about yearning. She returned his gaze for a moment, surprised. It was the first time she’d ever thought of him in that way, as having a childhood.
He’d always seemed like some dark and sinister figment of her imagination, not a real man, but a demon sent to test her. If everyone had a day of reckoning in their lives, a moment of coming to terms with the past, then Geoff Dias was her day of reckoning. She could almost believe that he was her destructive impulse come to life, destined to prove her unworthy, to remind her where she’d come from, what she’d been.
And yet now he was gazing at her with curiosity, perhaps even some small measure of sympathy.
“You remind me of someone,” he remarked, idly touching the torn silk of her collar, taking it between his fingers.
“I do?”
He drew the silk over her lips, as if he could banish the slight droop at each corner of her mouth. “You look like the gypsy bride in white lace who got on the back of my bike one night. She was sad too.”
His voice felt like a physical touch. The huskiness seemed to slide over her skin, a feathery pressure. It made her shiver inside and wonder about him. Why had he gone to so much trouble to track her down? With another man she would have chalked it up to male ego. But Geoff Dias didn’t look like the sort who needed to use women to prove his virility.
Still, the words emblazoned on his motorcycle spoke volumes. They said he was an incorrigible rogue and womanizer. Even now his gaze was drifting to the gaping neckline of her blouse where her heart was beating furiously and her breasts were spilling out of her scanty bra. She must have looked a sight with her blouse hanging off her shoulder and her skirt hiked up. Just the sort of sight he undoubtedly liked, by the way he was slowly undressing her with his eyes, removing what little clothing she had left.
Her flesh shivered and swelled, responding as if out of some biological instinct, a leaf opening to the light. She breathed in deeply, loving the feeling, hating it because it made her feel so weak.
“I wasn’t sad,” she countered, determined to distract him as much as to explain. “I was heartbroken. I was out of my mind that night. I never would have done those things if the circumstances had been different. You must know that.”
“I don’t know what you would have done. I only know what you did.” The strip of silk he’d been holding fluttered down her throat and landed on her breast. He reclaimed it, his fingers loitering, softly violating her bare skin. “We both know what you did, sweetness.”
She flushed hotly and looked away. Now she understood what he liked about her, why he’d come back ... He thought she was easy.
Deep inside her, the shivery sensations increased, fanning out like ripples over water. Why did he make her feel this way? So weak inside, so loose? Why was she so quick to respond to him? She clutched the strip of silk, trying to pull it out of his hands, but he tugged back, releasing it only when she looked up and met his eyes.
“I’m not what you think,” she said.
His gaze darkened, contradicting her. “Oh, baby—” He laughed softly, drawing the husky words out until they all but curled up and sighed. “I hope you’re wrong about that. Because I like what I think you are.”
She wanted to defend herself, but it wouldn’t have done any good. He knew her fatal flaw. He’d seen the wild streak that no one else even knew existed, certainly not Hugh.
Suddenly his hair caught the moonlight, flaming in the darkness as he tilted his head. “When do we leave?” he asked, swinging his leg over the handlebars and sliding off the bike.
“Leave?”
“For Brazil. I’m going with you.”
“You are?”
His T-shirt was hanging out of his fatigue pants. He tucked it back in and glanced up at her. “Any objections?”
She could think of several hundred, but she didn’t dare voice them if she wanted to find her fiancé. “What made you change your mind?”
“The thug who attacked you,” he said, indicating her ripped clothing and disheveled appearance. He reached around her and straightened her blouse, drawing it up on her shoulders, his hands warming her through the material. And then they closed gently on her shoulders, drawing her forward.
Randy glanced up at him, her heart rocketing as she realized what was happening. He was going to kiss her. But not roughly, not wildly. This wasn’t a surprise attack where he whipped her around, pressed her against a wall, and held her prisoner with his body until she surrendered. This would be slow and terribly sweet, a melting kiss.
Somehow she knew all that without question. She also knew she should hold him off. At the very least she should turn her head away! But she didn’t do either of those things. Instead, she found herself leaning into his hands and tilting up her chin to meet him halfway. Dear God, she was easy. Look at her! She couldn’t even find the strength of will to stop a kiss when she saw it coming. What would happen when he—
All other thoughts flew out of her head as his li
ps touched hers. She choked back a moan, but she couldn’t stop the trembling that swept her or the shivery lights swirling deep inside her. Why did it feel so wonderful when he did these things to her?
The sudden warmth of his hand on her face ignited a sweet burning that crept into her throat and filled her mouth. He stroked and played with her face as though it were a baby’s, caressing her with his surprisingly sensual fingers, breathing soft air through her parted teeth. Lord, what he did to her! The ache in her throat was so powerful she couldn’t even swallow. She opened her mouth to him, whimpering softly, pleading for something she shouldn’t even have been thinking about.
She felt him tremble and hesitate. His hands contracted on her shoulders, tightening as if he couldn’t make up his mind what to do with her. “I’m taking you to Rio, sweetness,” he said roughly, almost possessively, pulling her back to give her that news. “You won’t be safe with anyone else.”
“Are you saying I’ll be safe with you?” she asked him.
“No, I’m not saying that. But I can promise you one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“We will find your fiancé.”
“We will? How do you know that?”
“Because I’m going to bring the bastard back—if only to prove to you that you don’t want him back.”
“But I do—” The protest died on her lips.
He tipped her chin up, and she swallowed the breath she was taking. She strained toward him instinctively, shameless in her excitement. But apparently Geoff Dias had no intention of giving her what she wanted, which was another sweet, sinful kiss. Instead, he stroked the rough stubble of his five o’clock shadow over her baby-soft cheeks, abrading her skin. Instead, he touched his hot tongue to the lobe of her ear and whispered terrible, terrible things into that delicate orifice. Shocking things that made the shivery lights in her belly burn painfully bright.
“It’s all coming back to you, isn’t it, Randy?” he murmured. “You’re starting to remember how it was ... with us.”
The Stealth Commandos Trilogy Page 39
