Her Enemy Protector

by Cindy Dees

  The hard part was going to be keeping her under wraps once the squad had her. A girl with looks like hers wouldn’t be easy to hide until they got her out of Gavarone. Especially since the tiny country was firmly in Eduardo’s back pocket, compliments of the millions of dollars in crime money he injected into Gavarone’s economy while laundering his fortune.

  Plus, Carina was a celebrity in her own right. She turned heads everywhere she went with her wavy brunette hair, light green eyes and exotic features. Not to mention she had legs that didn’t quit.

  She was a heartbreaker if he’d ever seen one. The kind of self-centered, high-maintenance princess who’d run rough-shod over anyone dumb enough to actually love her.

  Something brushed against his leg and Joe glanced down. A grouper fish. Smallish but definitely edible. Had he not been on a mission, he’d have speared the thing and had a tasty supper tomorrow. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of the plentiful sharks that roamed these waters. He plastered his eye to the lens of the periscope, put the shivering cold out of his mind and resumed the thrilling task of underwater night surveillance.

  He counted off the minute or so it would take Cari, as he’d overheard her clubbing friends call her, to reach her bedroom from the front door. Any second now, the lights in her room should go on. He watched the appropriate window. No light, but the French doors opened and she stepped out onto her balcony. Right on schedule. She went out there often to gaze out at the ocean. Damn, she was beautiful—and wistful—as she stared out toward the ocean.

  Whether he wished her ill or not, he couldn’t help but react to her sad expression. He was a healer, after all. A medic normally in the business of easing pain and suffering. Her melancholy called to him as irresistibly as a siren song. Aw, hell. He was a sucker for hard-luck cases, and it didn’t hurt when they came in wrappings like hers.

  Good thing the very name Ferrare made him clench his teeth in rage and disgust. It lent him a measure of immunity to her charms. Still, he allowed himself to savor the sight of her breathtaking features as she leaned on the balcony, staring out to sea.

  After a while, she rubbed her arms and went back inside.

  He was probably done for the night. He’d give it a few more minutes until she was safely asleep, then swim the half mile down the beach to the surveillance post he’d set up for this op.

  Normally, all of his teammates on Charlie Squad would be at the base camp, providing backup. But they were tied up in Virginia right now. Julia had fingered an informant inside the squad’s support team and the rest of the guys were still tracking him down.

  If they didn’t catch the informant soon, the squad would have to sneak away under other pretexts and make their way down to Gavarone without tipping off the informant—and Eduardo. Colonel Folly, the team’s commander, would be coming as well to supplement their depleted ranks.

  It had been a rough winter on the team, with several serious injuries among them, but the result had been worth it—their number one enemy was dead center in their sights. Eduardo Ferrare was going down. Soon. The only hitch was that all their hard work and sacrifices weren’t going to be worth a hill of beans if Joe didn’t figure out a way to get at Carina.

  He stowed his periscope and surfaced for the swim back to a hot shower. Suddenly, surprisingly, a light snapped on in Cari’s room. That was odd. She ought to be in bed by now.

  A high-pitched scream drifted faintly across the water.

  His senses jolted to full alert. Something was wrong. Cari was in trouble. He swam for shore and the mansion. He didn’t have the slightest idea what he was going to do when he got there, but every nerve in his body shrieked for him to get to her. Now.

  The tide was going out and he fought against the currents dragging him back out to sea. A hefty little riptide had set itself up. Dammit. He didn’t have time to mess around with drifting down the beach and then coming ashore. He kicked harder.

  And then he saw her. Out on her balcony. What in the hell was she doing? He lifted his head, treading water while he watched her toss a rope ladder over the edge of her balcony and shimmy down it awkwardly. She wore only a skimpy tank top and a pair of bikini panties that were dark-colored and plastered wetly to her skin.

  She ran barefoot as fast as her long legs would take her toward the high fence that separated the beach from the grounds of the estate. She paused only long enough to punch in a number on a keypad by the gate and then she was tearing down the beach toward the water. She looked completely out of her mind with fear.

  Joe’s adrenaline roared and, abruptly, he wasn’t the slightest bit cold. Stunned, he watched as she kept right on running, straight into the cold surf. What was she doing? She wasn’t dressed for this kind of water!

  She was headed straight at him. Had her older sister told Cari he’d be out here? Couldn’t be. Julia Ferrare didn’t know the details of the plan to rescue her sister. She was still recovering from her own injuries, suffered while escaping her father.

  But here came Cari, splashing right at him. She was a strong swimmer, and her slender arms pulled her rapidly toward deep water. He knew the exact spot where the beach shelf gave way to a steep drop-off. She was almost there. And then the riptide would snag her and push her out to sea. No matter how good a swimmer she was, she’d be in serious trouble then.

  He put his mouthpiece back in and submerged. He’d reach her faster that way than if he tried to fight the currents on the surface. With powerful kicks of his rubber fins, he propelled himself toward her.

  The visibility stunk this close to shore. The waves stirred up sand and sediment, and he could hardly see his hand in front of his face. Only the slightest hint of moonlight penetrated the water. Were it not for his night-vision goggles, he’d be as blind as a bat. He surfaced long enough to get another fix on Cari’s position. Slightly to his left. He corrected course, ducked under water again and kicked like crazy.

  She had to be getting damned cold. Hypothermia was going to do her in faster than exhaustion or the riptide. He surfaced again to look for her. Just ahead of him. Maybe thirty feet away. Her stroke was faltering. Damn! She was in trouble.

  He put on a last burst of speed. He couldn’t see a blessed thing under the water. She had to be right in front of him. He looked around for any sign of her.

  And then he caught a glimpse of her pale body off to his right. Her arms were barely moving. As he watched, her limbs went still. She kicked spasmodically for a second or two and then stopped moving again. He watched in horror as she sank slowly beneath the surface of the water.

  What in the hell was she doing? Don’t give up, Cari, he begged as he surged upward beneath her. Hang on, just a few more seconds!

  She spiraled downward toward him, a pale, lissome shape, her hair swirling gently around her head. She looked like a mermaid descending into the ocean’s black depths.

  Except Carina Ferrare was no mermaid. She was a flesh-and-blood woman who needed to breathe.

  Joe kicked with all his strength and shot up beside her. He yanked the mouthpiece out of his own mouth and shoved it into hers. She started violently as it touched her. He remembered belatedly that she wasn’t wearing night-vision goggles and couldn’t see him in the water’s blackness.

  She shook her head and backed away from the mouthpiece. What was she trying to do? Kill herself?

  He closed in on her, wrapping an arm around her slender waist and shoving the mouthpiece back into her mouth. He kicked for the surface, dragging her up with him by force.

  She fought, but she didn’t stand a chance against a trained commando like him. He just wrapped her up so tightly she couldn’t move. Their faces burst through to the cold air and he took a great sucking breath.

  She spit out his mouthpiece, coughing. “Let me go!”

  “Not a chance,” he growled. “I’m not going to let you die out here.”

  “Dammit, does my father always have to win? Can’t you just leave me alone? Let me go. Please. No one will miss me. Jus
t this once?” she pleaded, her voice laced with hysteria.

  She was trying to die? She’d have succeeded if he hadn’t been there. What a piece of luck. Hell, this rescue mission was going to be a piece of cake. He’d just swim her down the beach to his staging area and Eduardo Ferrare would think his daughter had drowned. It was perfect.

  “Carina, quit fighting and listen to me for a minute. I’m here to rescue you.”

  She continued to sob hysterically and breathe in great gasping breaths of true panic.

  He spoke forcefully. “Your sister, Julia, sent me to get you. You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  The slippery, struggling woman gradually stilled in his arms. The surf rocked them gently as they floated together, their bodies plastered against each other.

  Better.

  “Y-you d-don’t work for m-my f-father?”

  Her teeth were chattering like castanets. Hypothermia was setting in. He had to get her out of this water, and soon. Not to mention that he thought he smelled blood on her. And if he could smell it, the sharks roaming these waters damn well could, too.

  “No, I don’t work for your father. I’m here to get you away from him.”

  “Did Tony send you?” Her voice broke on another sob.

  He frowned. Who the hell was Tony? “No,” he began. “Your sister, Julia, sent me,” he repeated. Her mental processes were slowed, another sign of encroaching hypothermia.

  Keeping one arm wrapped securely around her, he lifted his night-vision goggles to look at her directly. Her lips looked black in the moonlight. He swore under his breath. She was starting to shiver violently against him. Part cold, part shock, if he had to guess. Either way, he had to warm her up, pronto. He pulled her even tighter against him. Her body trembled violently against his. She’d never make it back to the op site in this state.

  “Wh-what’s y-your n-n-name?” she got out between her rattling teeth.

  “Joe.” Man, she was cold. She felt like an ice cube, even through his rubber suit. He treaded water with easy kicks of his legs, keeping them both afloat while he shared his body heat with her.

  Abruptly, a half-dozen powerful spotlights exploded on the beach, flooding the sand with light and spilling their harsh glare over the surface of the ocean.

  Cari lurched convulsively in his arms. “Oh, God,” she cried in terror. “They’re coming for me!”

  Joe looked toward the shore. Sure enough, four men in full scuba gear were wading out into the water from the direction of the Ferrare estate. Wow, Eduardo’s people had responded fast to her flight.

  The men were carrying underwater spotlights and motorized diving-propulsion devices that would pull them through the water at twice the speed he could swim on his own. Hauling Cari, who had no fins and was too cold to move, Joe would never manage to outdistance the men. He cursed foully to himself. There went his perfect getaway. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

  Joe thought fast for a public place he’d seen Cari frequent that would suit his purposes. He asked her urgently, “Can you get to a club called The Last Tango sometime in the next few days?”

  She frowned like she knew the place. “M-maybe. Although I d-doubt my father will l-let me out of the h-house after…” Her voice broke.

  What in the hell had happened that had sent her out into the ocean in a complete panic? He cut off his curiosity. No time for that, now. He’d damn well find out later, though.

  He talked fast as the spotlights drew closer. “I’ll be there every night between ten p.m. and two a.m. until you can come. I’ll sit at the bar upstairs. Ask around for a guy called Joe. Got it?”

  “Joe,” she repeated.

  “Your father’s divers are getting close and it’s about time for me to skedaddle. Don’t forget. The Last Tango. Joe. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  He gave her a quick smile, then shoved his mouthpiece in, yanked down his goggles and disappeared beneath the surface of the waves.

  Chapter 2

  The morning after Tony’s murder, every trace of the bloody event was gone. There wasn’t the slightest hint of a stain left in Carina’s bedroom when she returned to it, let alone a corpse for her to go to the police with. But the memory of it overpowered her every time she set foot in her obscenely white bedroom.

  It took her a long time to convince her father that she was cowed enough not to try any more stunts. It had been a real feat of acting to suppress her rage and grief over Tony’s death, not to mention her terror at what his murder meant for her own safety. But desperation gave her strength.

  And then there was the mysterious man who’d saved her life. Joe. Just thinking his name gave her a spark of hope. Enough to keep going. Enough to pretend to be a meek, obedient daughter for as long as it took to keep that date with him.

  Finally, on a Saturday morning two weeks after the murder, her father agreed to let her out of the house under heavy guard for a night of dancing. Apparently, people were starting to ask questions. The maids smuggled the occasional Gavronese tabloid to her and rumors were circulating that her father was keeping her prisoner in his house. For once, she was truly grateful for her high-profile party-girl image. It might just save her life this time.

  She couldn’t wait to get out of the house for a few hours. And, good Lord willing, there’d be more than dancing waiting for her at The Last Tango.

  She had no idea who this Joe guy was. Whether or not she could believe his story and trust him was another unknown. But it wasn’t like she had any choice. Eduardo had murdered her only trustworthy friend in Gavarone.

  She prayed a dozen times that day that Joe had waited for her. She didn’t know if she could take another big disappointment right now.

  He had to be here. He had to.

  Curbing her impatience as the limousine pulled to a stop in front of the upscale tango club, she waited while Freddie and Neddie went inside to scope out the place. She knew the routine. They would check for exits and put a man on each one so she couldn’t make an escape, and they would make sure the customers didn’t include any known enemies of her father’s.

  By the time they finally came back to let her out of the car, she was a jangling bundle of nerves. “Gentlemen,” she asked the pair as politely as she could muster around the tightness in her throat, “may I please have a little privacy tonight to enjoy myself in peace?”

  The two men exchanged a glance. Freddie growled grudgingly, “You can go upstairs. There’s a bar and a small dance floor up there and only the one staircase for access. We’ll stay downstairs.”

  “Thank you, Alfredo,” she murmured gratefully. Please be here, please be here, please be here…

  A gaping Neddie lurched into motion as she practically ran past him. She stopped just inside the door. The place gave the impression of an old-fashioned ballroom, with abundant gilding, mirrors and crystal chandeliers. Thankfully, a high-tech lighting system, the modern bar and a stage for a band kept it from being an old-fogey joint. She looked around frantically and didn’t see anyone remotely resembling that shadowed face from the ocean. Her heart leaped into her throat. He had to be here!

  She’d been to this club a few times, but she certainly wouldn’t call it one of her regular haunts. It was more mature—classier—than the places she usually chose. She gravitated toward clubs that were wild, easy and, truth be told, a little raunchy. They aggravated the living heck out of her father.

  Freddie nodded toward the stairs and she flew up them like there were rockets on her feet. The bar was located at the far end of a wide mezzanine, on the far side of a long, narrow dance floor that ran the length of the balcony. True to the club’s name, about once an hour a set of tangos played, and one was in progress now. She dodged promenading couples and made her way over to the gleaming mahogany bar. She bellied up to it and leaned forward to talk to the bartender under cover of the tango playing behind her.

  “I’m here to meet a guy named Joe. Have you seen him, by any chance?�
� She prayed the bartender didn’t ask her for more details because she hadn’t registered much about Joe that crazy night.

  She needn’t have worried. The second she uttered his name, the bartender’s eyebrows shot up to somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline. He stared at her with open curiosity. “Over there,” he nodded with his chin and added, “I thought for sure you stood him up after all this time, but he kept saying you’d show.”

  Joe was here. He’d waited for her. Abject gratitude at this stranger’s perseverance flooded her, and she blinked away tears of relief.

  A new set of jitters attacked her as she turned in the direction the bartender had indicated. Over there. In a booth tucked into the darkest corner of the room. What would he look like, her mysterious savior? She’d been pretty freaked out that night, but she did recall that he was incredibly strong, and his eyes had looked black in the moonlight. His voice had been gravelly, but that might’ve been from the cold water and the dry oxygen in his scuba tank.

  Julia had sent him, he’d said. How had he known she would come racing out into the ocean like she had? Was he some sort of mind reader?

  She approached Joe from an oblique angle, taking a moment to study him before he did the same to her. The first thing she noticed was his thick, dark hair. Its silky, sable waves begged a girl to run her fingers through them. And he had a face worthy of Michelangelo. A plastic surgeon would kill to create a nose that straight or a jaw that firm. His age was hard to peg. Maybe in his mid-thirties. But his tanned skin was so smooth and taut that she could easily be wrong by five years in either direction.

  He glanced over toward her just then, his eyes not showing the faintest recognition. Startled, she watched as his gaze slid past her cautiously, and only when he saw she was alone did his eyes return to her. He smiled. Oh, Lord, he was so gorgeous it almost hurt to look at him.

  He slipped smoothly out of the booth and stood up, waiting for her. Tall. Six foot two, maybe. Lean. But muscular. Fit. Really fit. Wow. Just wow.