Hot Soldier Bodyguard

by Cindy Dees

  It almost made a guy sympathize with her. Except he’d spent too many years scraping bodies off the ground or patching back together the victims of her family’s violence to have much sympathy for Carina Ferrare. She lived a life of pampered, luxurious excess paid for in other people’s blood and suffering. And surely, she knew it.

  Anyone with a shred of conscience would be too embarrassed to show her face in public. But the younger Ferrare daughter flaunted her family’s ill-gotten wealth. She wore outrageously expensive clothing and jewelry, and from what he’d seen, she tossed money around like candy. No matter the suffering behind its origin.

  The only good news for his mission was that, despite her extravagant lifestyle, he got the distinct impression she was unhappy. The poor little rich girl couldn’t buy love, could she? The corner of his mouth twitched in disdain.

  But he had faith she would jump at any opportunity to get away from her father. Frankly, she struck him as the type to leap at any new adventure—the wilder, the better.

  Such a contrast to the older sister. Julia Ferrare was responsible and thoughtful, a gentle soul who had risked her life to do the right thing and stop her father. Julia was the banker who handled all of Eduardo Ferrare’s finances, and she’d agreed to testify against her crime lord father just as soon as her younger sister was freed from his clutches. Jim Dutcher, his teammate on the Blackjacks, was the lucky bastard Julia loved and had turned to for help when she fled her father.

  Julia had placed one condition on her testifying against her father. Rescue her little sister from their father.

  So here he was, preparing to rescue Carina Ferrare, whether she liked it or not. He was the advance man for the Blackjacks, doing tedious, around-the-clock surveillance to nail down the younger Ferrare daughter’s routines and habits before they mounted a full-scale rescue.

  It was his job to figure out the best mode of snatching her, whether to approach her and enlist her cooperation or just throw a bag over her head and grab her. The four other reasonably healthy members of the Blackjacks, a highly classified Special Forces team, would join him in another week or so to help him run the actual rescue operation.

  The Blackjacks had been chasing Eduardo Ferrare for a decade, and they almost had him now. It had been a huge breakthrough when Julia Ferrare had agreed to go before a grand jury and reveal everything she knew about her father’s crime empire. Given that she kept the books for the whole operation, she knew more than enough to put her old man behind bars for the rest of his life. But she’d been adamant. The Blackjacks had to pull out her sister before she would say a word.

  He wasn’t all that worried about how he would free Carina. What charm couldn’t accomplish, coercion could. Surely any daughter of Eduardo’s understood all about force and its myriad applications.

  The hard part was going to be keeping her under wraps once the team had her. A young woman 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 was plastered all over the tabloids constantly, from what he could tell. 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 would run roughshod over anyone dumb enough to actually love her.

  Something brushed against his leg and Joe glanced down. A grouper fish. Small but definitely edible. Had he not been on a mission, he’d have speared the thing and had a tasty supper tomorrow. At least it hadn’t been one of the plentiful sharks that roamed these waters.

  He plastered his eye to the lens of the periscope, put the bone chilling 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 of the mansion. Any second now, the lights in her room should go on. He watched the appropriate window.

  No light tonight, 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. Which boded well for him and his team. Predictable people were easy to kidnap.

  Damn, she was beautiful—and wistful, tonight—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. Aww, 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 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.

  What was she thinking about?

  Hard to tell with a woman like her. The circles she ran in were so different from any he’d ever known that he couldn’t even speculate on what had put that sad droop into her shoulders.

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

  He was probably done for the night. He would 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, his teammates in the Blackjacks would be at the base camp, providing backup. But they were tied up stateside, right now. Julia had fingered an informant inside the team’s support staff and the rest of the guys were still tracking down that person.

  If they didn’t catch the informant soon, the team would have to sneak away under other pretexts and make their way down to Gavarone without tipping off the informant—and Eduardo. Colonel Foley, 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 he didn’t figure out a way to get at Carina.

  He stowed his periscope and surfaced for the swim back to a hot shower and a warm bed. 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.

  He saw movement on her balcony and lifted his head to look.

  What in the hell was she doing?

  He stopped, 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 splotched white and black.

  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 terror.

  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 s
he doing? She wasn’t dressed for this kind of water!

  She was headed straight at him. Had her older sister told Cari he would be out here? Surely not. Julia 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, aided by the outgoing tide. 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 would be in serious trouble then.

  He put his mouthpiece back in and submerged. He would 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. Not to mention it was pitch dark down here. Only the slightest hint of moonlight penetrated the water. Were it not for his NODs, he would 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 in the murky 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, he silently begged her as he surged upward toward 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 gear 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. Just 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 would 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 he thought he smelled blood on her. And if he could smell it, the sharks roaming these waters damned 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 facemask to look at her directly. Her lips looked black in the moonlight. He swore under his breath. She shivered 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 would never make it back to his camp 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 under his breath. 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 would damned 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 Two

  The morning after Tony’s murder, every trace of the bloody event had disappeared. She couldn’t sleep in her room and had fled to Julia’s old bedroom to cower under the covers for most of the night.

  But her clothes were in her own bedroom, and Julia’s petite frame meant none of her old clothes even came close to fitting Carina’s taller lankier frame.

  She’d reluctantly opened her door and stopped in shock. There wasn’t the slightest hint of a stain left in Carina’s all-white bedroom when she returned to it, let alone a corpse for her to go to the police with.

  Damn her father, anyway. She was a
bruptly so tired she could barely stand.

  The stains and the corpse might be gone, but the memory of it overpowered her. The wetness. The smell. That obscene gash under his chin…

  Her appetite over the next few days was nil, even though the cook prepared all of her favorite foods in an attempt to cajole her into eating. The servants all knew what had happened and seemed to have taken pity on her. She added humiliation to the roiling stew of grief and guilt and rage that filled her belly and her mind.

  Tony was dead because of her.

  She was poison. Anything she touched turned into something ugly. Toxic. It came with the Ferrare name, apparently.

  Depression set in somewhere along the way.

  And that was when she gave in to the despair. She was never leaving this place. Never escaping her father.

  Whoever that stranger had been in the ocean that awful night, he couldn’t help her.

  It took about two weeks, but eventually her friends and the tabloids started calling, wondering where she’d disappeared to. It was completely unlike her to stay home for weeks on end.

  In a weird change of roles, it was her father who finally urged her to go out again. Over dinner on a Saturday night, he insisted that she go to a club. Dance. Smile for the cameras.

  Asshole.

  She didn’t for a second think he gave a damn about her mental health. But his image—now that was something he cared about.

  Listlessly, she stood in her huge, walk-in closet and stared at her clothes. She chose a dress at random. Something red. To symbolize Tony’s blood.

  She climbed into the limousine when it came around front to pick her up.

  “Where to, Miss Cari?” Freddie asked her with uncharacteristic gentleness.

  What the hell. “The Last Tango.”

  Who was the mysterious man who’d saved her life, anyway? Joe. Thinking his name gave her a startling spark of hope, tonight. Was there a chance, even a miniscule one, that there might be a way to escape Eduardo?