The Flyboy's Temptation

by Kimberly Van Meter

  And so were his friends.

  “I have an eidetic memory,” Hope told J.T., needing to show him that she could be helpful and not just a burden to the team. “I remember everything about the lab, including the code Anso punched in to enter. You’re going to need me to get the pack.”

  J.T. eyed her with respect and a little awe. “Something tells me it’s a bitch to play trivia games with you.”

  “I never lose,” she admitted with a cocky grin. “Let me know when you want to get your ass kicked.”

  Laughing, he sneaked a quick kiss and she didn’t mind in the least.

  * * *

  “SO WHO THE hell are we talking about?” J.T. asked, impatient to know who they were up against. “Who is this guy and why is everyone so afraid of him?”

  Camille Jackson, the contact at the embassy, frowned. “You certainly tangled with the wrong person. He is universally loved and feared. The man has a lot of money and he uses it to donate to schools, as well as sponsor much-needed items for the police. Not to mention there isn’t a woman in Brazil who wouldn’t give a kidney to become his wife.”

  J.T. didn’t care if the man shit gold bricks. “That man is up to no good. He kidnapped Hope. He tried to shoot us out of the sky. The man is dangerous. I don’t care if there’s a statue erected in his honor in the town square—the man is bad news.”

  “Doesn’t sound like we’re going to get much help from the locals,” Teagan said.

  Camille agreed with a worried expression. “On the surface he seems the benevolent benefactor. However, there are horrific stories about Anso DeLeon that aren’t so savory. The problem is proving them. The man has more money than God. I don’t know how you’re going to go about this without ruffling a lot of feathers or, frankly, ending up at the bottom of a hole.”

  Teagan steadied J.T. with a reassuring hand. “We’re not giving up. We’ll find a way.”

  “So, what do we do?” He looked to Teagan. “I’m out of ideas.”

  But it was Camille who provided the first lead in a dead-end situation.

  She lowered her voice. “It won’t be easy when everyone sings the man’s praises. But I do know someone who had an unfortunate run-in with Anso DeLeon. If there’s anyone who would be willing to help you, it’s him.”

  Camille scribbled the name and address on a piece of paper and slid it across the table to J.T. “This man came to me last year saying that his daughter had been taken by Anso and she never returned. He went to the police, but they wouldn’t help him. There was no way they were going to bite the hand that fed them. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do for him, either. But the man has no love for Anso DeLeon and I’m sure he would jump at the chance to finally find out what happened to his daughter.”

  J.T. shared a look with Hope as he accepted the slip of paper with gratitude. He couldn’t imagine a father’s pain in losing his daughter without answers and suspecting who was responsible and being unable to do anything about it.

  “Thank you. I appreciate your help,” J.T. said, shaking her hand. “Why did the man come to the embassy for help? Is he a US citizen?”

  Camille shook her head, sadness creeping into her eyes. “He came to me because he and I were dating at the time. After the police refused to help him, he turned to me in desperation. I couldn’t help, either. Eventually, the strain killed our relationship. But he is a good man and I truly hope he finds his daughter, or at least finds the answers.”

  “That’s awful,” Hope murmured with empathy. “Thank you for helping us.”

  J.T. nodded. “We appreciate all you’ve done to help. I know you’re probably taking a risk.”

  Camille nodded. “Best of luck. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

  They left the embassy and J.T., Hope and Teagan regrouped with the guys, who were waiting for them at a small café.

  Kirk, ever the ladies’ man, was enjoying the view of Brazilian beauties who seemed to be everywhere.

  “I think I’ve found my new ZIP code. Every woman is more beautiful than the last. Do they just grow them naturally gorgeous in this country?”

  J.T. smiled at Kirk’s humor, but his mind was too focused on the situation. Besides, as beautiful as all the women in Brazil were, none of them held a candle to Hope. He didn’t know when it’d happened to him, but Hope was all he wanted. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he’d caught dengue fever or something equally deadly because his brain wasn’t operating on all four cylinders.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Harris asked, eager to get moving. “This place gives me a headache. Too much spice.”

  J.T. shared what Camille had told them. “We’ll be hard-pressed to find anyone willing to go up against the guy. Apparently, he’s something of a saint in many circles. But we found one person who isn’t going to be singing his praises. Apparently, the guy’s daughter disappeared and he believes Anso was responsible.”

  “Why would some rich guy risk everything by stealing a woman?” Harris asked. “Unless things work differently in this country, rich men don’t usually have a problem finding women who want to be with them.”

  “Not all women,” Hope reminded Harris with a sharp look, and immediately Harris apologized.

  “Sorry, just blathering on like I do. No offense, Red.”

  Hope nodded her acceptance of his apology and J.T. continued, “And I don’t know, but something tells me this guy has a God complex. He has enough money that he feels he can do whatever he wants and get away with it. And in a country like this, where corruption is fairly easy to fund, his arrogance is probably well earned.”

  “All right, let’s find this guy and see what we can do,” Ty said. “We’re on a tight time frame. If anyone finds out that we’re here sniffing around, we’re going to have a helluva a time getting out of this country.”

  “And I have no interest in spending the rest of my life in a Brazilian prison,” Harris quipped sourly. “The food alone will kill me.”

  “Mild salsa would kill that Irish gut of yours,” Kirk teased, shoving Harris. “If it ain’t bland potatoes and rubbery shoe leather, you complain about your poor tummy.”

  “Eat me,” Harris shot back as they squeezed into a van to check out their only lead.

  Anyone with a God complex was dangerous.

  And a man with more money than most small countries?

  Deadly.

  * * *

  J.T. LISTENED TO the man tell his story, rage and an inborn need for justice filling his veins.

  Ricardo García was a man burning with an impotent fire. J.T. could see the pain and anguish this father felt for the loss of his only daughter and he wished, not only for Hope’s sake, but also for Ricardo’s, that Anso died a slow, grisly death for his crimes.

  “She was a good girl, always helpful to me after her mother died. She made the best pão de queijo in the world.” Ricardo paused to wipe his eyes, the pain still very fresh. “She liked to buy fresh herbs at the market and that’s when he saw her.”

  “Anso DeLeon?” J.T. supplied, and Ricardo nodded with a hard look.

  “My Carina was beautiful, too beautiful, with a kind heart, I worried.”

  “What happened?”

  “People said they saw DeLeon talking to her at the market. At first she found his attention flattering. She told me about him. I warned that rich men do not marry poor girls. We had nothing to offer a man such as he. I encouraged her to stay away from DeLeon. My gut said nothing but bad things could come of his attention. I did not trust that his intention was pure, and I was right. Witnesses say that my Carina was forcibly pushed into a car and she was never seen after that. I know it was DeLeon. I went to the police, but they were unhelpful, even hostile to my concerns. They said I was a stupid father to accuse a great man of trying to steal a girl when he could have any
woman he chooses. But I know he took my Carina. She would never leave me alone. She was a good girl.”

  “How old was your daughter when she disappeared?”

  “Seventeen.”

  J.T. swore under his breath. In his military career he’d seen more than his share of misery in different countries as cultures clashed, but there was no mistaking this father’s pain.

  The sudden warmth of Hope’s hand grasping his calmed his urge to break something.

  Ricardo wiped at his eyes with a stoic gesture, his gaze hardening. “I will help you. But I will kill him if I get close enough. Don’t stand in my way.”

  Teagan shared a look with J.T., then shrugged when Hope didn’t offer any dissent. “That’s your business.”

  They weren’t there to be the ethics police and he was grateful Hope seemed to realize that. By the sound of it, Anso DeLeon didn’t bother himself with ethics or morals, so it was probably time to pay for his karma earned, anyway.

  “Do you have access to guns?” Ricardo asked point-blank.

  Teagan nodded.

  “Good. Then I have a way to get into the compound. I’ve been thinking of this plan for a year, but couldn’t do it alone. If you have the guns, I have the plan.”

  “Sounds like a match made in heaven,” Kirk said, grinning. “Let’s do this. It’s been too long since I smelled the sweet aroma of gunpowder in the morning.”

  “You crazy son of a bitch, you need your head checked,” Harris growled, but he had that hungry look, too, and J.T. knew he had the best possible team for the job.

  Even if they all went down in a hail of gunfire...at least he knew they’d take out a few of the bastards as they went down.

  19

  HOPE KNEW J.T. had lingering questions—conflicts, even—but she was too emotionally strung out to tackle them right now.

  The trauma of the past forty-eight hours was something she didn’t want to face, and J.T.’s arms seemed the safest place at the moment.

  Especially when tonight was the night they were raiding Anso’s compound.

  They all had their pregame rituals, apparently.

  J.T. had chosen to spend his with Hope.

  She didn’t want to read too much into his decision, but she was happy that he was there with her.

  The option wasn’t available, but if it were, Hope would walk away from this cursed place and forget she’d ever stepped foot on its soil.

  Forget about the virus.

  Forget about Anso.

  Forget about what he planned to do with it.

  But she couldn’t do that.

  Win or lose...it was all going down tonight.

  Stop thinking.

  Hope willed her brain to shut down, if only for this moment, these precious hours before go time.

  “Kiss me, J.T.,” she murmured as he tenderly helped her to the bed. His kisses were soft, almost reverent, and she sighed with pleasure as the sweetness of the stolen moment almost brought tears to her eyes.

  They both knew the score—they were destined to crash and burn—but right now there was no denying that the thirst that raged between them was impossible to quench. They would have to ride it out to the bitter end, whatever that might be.

  J.T. was her willing servant, kissing, touching, teasing, and yet he lost nothing in the manner of his masculinity as he worshipped her body. She thrilled at the sensual taking, the primal understanding that their bodies were meant to fit together in the most perfect way.

  Hope simply drifted—no, plummeted—into utter pleasure, gasping as J.T. plundered her feminine folds, sinking between her thighs, marauding her core with that clever tongue until she was twisting and moaning, losing herself to the terrible sweetness of her climax.

  Her chest heaved with the violence of her release as her entire body tingled and tensed as endorphins flooded her senses, blotting out every ache, every lingering fear. For a blissful moment, she was simply a vessel for extreme pleasure and she basked in the glow of that primal explosion.

  “I’m addicted to you,” J.T. admitted in a tight voice as he hungrily took her mouth, her own musk clinging to his lips, causing her to flush with fresh desire. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.”

  She knew that bittersweet feeling—that inescapable knowledge—and wrapped her arms around him tightly, begging him to sink into her, to impale her with his cock until they were one.

  Hope gasped as the feeling of being filled, stretched and taken started a new chain reaction of bliss. Her tightness clasped the turgid girth of his cock, milking him with loving abandon as they worked in tandem, giving to each other to accomplish one goal.

  J.T.’s hips flexed as he thrust against her, going balls deep, shuddering with a groan as he withdrew, only to plunge deeper still. His broad shoulders braced him above her with perfect balance and Hope was struck by the sheer beauty of this incredible man.

  He wasn’t the kind of man you fell in love with, but Hope found her heart stirring. There was far more to J. T. Carmichael than he liked to let on. And it was that private person, the one who gave more than he took and risked his life for a near stranger in need, who was the person she was falling for.

  Scared at the implication of such an admission, she clung to him even harder, afraid that she was making an even bigger mistake than creating the world’s most dangerous virus.

  But soon she could think of nothing more than the feel of J.T. buried inside her and she happily lost herself to the sensation of her inner core swelling with need as she tumbled into another release just as J.T. found his.

  J.T. gasped, moaning her name as his wild thrusts slowly stopped, and he rolled to his back beside her. His chest rose and fell sharply as he tried to catch his breath, as overwhelmed as she by the explosive climax.

  For a long moment, neither talked. Maybe they both were chewing on the same thought, the same worry, but neither was ready to tackle the conversation because they both knew the answer.

  A tear snaked its way down her cheek and she wiped it away, her throat closing with emotion.

  “I didn’t think of the potential ramifications,” she admitted in a small voice. Her statement could’ve applied to her work on the virus or the fact that she was falling in love with J.T. and she didn’t clarify.

  In answer, J.T. gathered her in his arms, but remained silent.

  * * *

  THEY MANAGED TO get the blueprints for the compound through a local Realtor who had connections to the contractor who’d built the house. It took greasing some palms, but they managed to make it worth his while to hand over the schematics.

  Teagan and the crew had brought guns and were properly outfitted with enough of an arsenal to invade a small country. That was the upside to their collectively deadly military training—they knew how to handle themselves in a tight spot.

  And wouldn’t you know it, these crazy bastards actually missed getting shot at.

  Kirk hefted his M16 and grinned, looking like a proud father. “Look at this baby. Isn’t it a beauty? I call it the ‘terrorist special’—able to mow down entire camps with one mag.”

  “I ain’t gonna lie—it’s a thing of beauty,” Harris admitted, eyeing the assault rifle with envy. “But I’m a traditionalist. Nothing better than a good ole AK-47.”

  J.T. preferred the familiar comfort of his Glock. A bullet fired at high velocity, no matter where it was shot from, usually did the trick.

  Ricardo had brought his own firepower and he had the look of a kamikaze pilot ready to go down with his plane. The grieving father didn’t care if this was a one-way trip, but J.T. didn’t want the guy to die. Ricardo was a good man and he deserved answers. God willing, he’d get some.

  “Let’s go over the plan one more time,” Teagan said, all business. “Kirk and Harris wil
l come with me and we’ll take the south flank. Ricardo, J.T. and Ty will come around the north, clearing the way for Hope to get to the lab. This area here—” he pointed to the blueprints “—is the most vulnerable to entry. Chances are since your escape, there are probably dogs and more guards. Try to get in and out as quickly and quietly as possible. Do what you have to to stay alive, but try to limit the casualties. Let’s remember, there might be civilians in this place being held against their will.”

  Ricardo reminded them, “Anso DeLeon is mine. If things don’t go to plan, don’t wait for me. I know the score. Whatever happens, just getting my chance to kill the bastard is enough reward. I’ve made peace with my god. You best do the same.”

  “My god encourages me to drink whiskey when I feel the need to confess something and then the feeling passes. Besides, the Almighty can be just as easily found in the bottle of whiskey as he can in a church,” Harris said. “You ought to try it sometime.”

  “Leave the man to his beliefs. Just because you’ve renounced your faith, doesn’t mean everyone else has,” Ty said. “Let’s hit it.”

  “I haven’t renounced anything,” Harris disagreed, grumbling as he climbed into the vehicle. “I’m on sabbatical.”

  They headed for the deep jungle, taking care to hide the vehicle before they set out on foot to the interior of the compound.

  As expected, guards with dogs patrolled the perimeter, but as Teagan had pointed out, there was a place that was not patrolled due to the awkward angle at which the property edged into the dense jungle.

  J.T. caught Hope’s delicate shudder as no doubt bad memories surfaced. He squeezed her hand silently. No words were necessary.

  There were no cameras and the fence was easy enough to scale.

  They dropped soundlessly to the ground, except for Ricardo and Hope, whom they had to help up and over. J.T. hated bringing along civilians, as they were often a liability, but Hope wasn’t going to stay behind and Ricardo had a score to settle.

  The plan was to find a spot inside the perimeter and then wait until midnight to strike. They had the advantage of surprise on their side, but a sleeping household was a more easily contained target.