“What?” answered the senator.
“Is this line safe?”
“Hold on.” The line went silent; then a moment later, the senator came back on. “Make it fast.”
“Bella found some things.”
Irritation tightened the senator’s voice. “What kind of things?”
“Familiar things. I saw the photos on her phone.” He’d had to steal a peek at them while she showered in the locker room, but the deception was necessary. “It’s happening again.”
“Impossible! There’s no one left alive who would even know where to start.”
“Someone must have found the research, then, because I know what I saw.”
“Does Bella?” asked Greg.
“No. She was too young then. All she knows is that what she saw upset her enough to destroy the entire building. She razed it to the ground.”
“Good. That saves me some effort.” Payton heard the creak of Greg’s chair as it leaned back. “It was probably a leftover research facility—a remnant of the past.”
He’d thought that, too. At first. “Then why was nothing dusty? Where were the cobwebs?”
“You’re just being paranoid.”
Greg had always been stubborn, but he’d never before refused to see the truth when it was right in front of him. “Do I need to send you the photos?”
“No,” the senator hurried to say. “No need. Whatever it was is taken care of now. I assume you deleted the photos.”
“Of course.” After he’d sent a copy to himself.
He had to delete all of Bella’s contacts and other stored information as well to make it look like her phone had gone haywire, but she’d get over that. Having those photos on her phone could get her killed. He loved her like a daughter. He’d lay down his life to protect her.
Greg’s tone became dismissive. “Good. We’re done here, then. I have a meeting.”
“I hope you’re right, but what if you’re not? What if someone did find a copy of the research and has begun the experiments again?”
“Then you’d better pray our names aren’t mentioned anywhere in that research, or we’re both dead men.”
Greg hung up, leaving Payton listening to silence. He’d never been as optimistic as the senator, or as deeply mired in denial. Payton was a pragmatist. A realist. And he was convinced that the sins of their youth were coming back to haunt them.
Judging by those photos, the nightmare wasn’t over. It was just getting started.
Chapter 7
Gina had no idea why she was here in Colombia or what Lorenzo planned to do with her. The only bit of conversation she’d overheard indicated that he was taking her somewhere tomorrow.
By then she needed to be long gone.
Gina’s plan was fairly simple. She would ease herself down to the ground on a rope made from a sheet, then run like crazy until she found someone with a phone. She’d call for help and keep hidden until that help arrived.
The only thing holding her back was that Sloane might be coming. That, and the guns the men outside had. And the fact that she had no food or water and no idea how long it would be until she found some. And her shoes were meant for a party, not a hike. And she had no idea where she was going and could just as easily get herself deeper into trouble as out of it.
Okay, maybe there were a few kinks in her plan that needed some work. Patience had never been among her virtues, but if she was going to make it out of this alive, she needed to find some, quick.
If only she knew why she was here, it would make her decision a lot easier. Three days ago, they’d been at a club in New York. Lorenzo had told her he wanted her to see his home. She’d thought it was a romantic gesture right up to the point where he dumped her here and locked her in.
For the third time today, she pounded on the door and demanded the guard take her to see Lorenzo.
The man who opened the door was younger than the last guard. His hair was shaved until only a quarter inch of stubble remained. His eyes were a deep brown and he had a dimple in his chin. He was short, maybe an inch or two taller than her five-two frame. The way his eyes slid over her body gave her a burst of hope.
Gina turned on the charm and flashed Shorty a sultry smile. “Do you speak English?” she asked.
“English. Little.”
She could work with that. “I want to see Lorenzo.”
“You stay.”
Gina ignored the violent implications of the heavy gun strapped over his shoulder and ran her finger down the side of his face. “Can you ask Lorenzo if he’ll come see me? I’m so lonely.”
Shorty grinned and inched closer. “He works. You stay. I stay.”
“Do you want to come in?” she asked. “Keep me company?” Maybe if she got him inside her room, she could overpower him and take his weapon. She wasn’t sure how to use it, but she owned a camera. She could point and shoot with the best of them.
“You are joking me.”
She let her finger glide along the curve of his ear and down his neck. “I’d never do that.”
He captured her fingers and brought them to his lips, kissing the back of her hand. He said something in Spanish she couldn’t follow, but it rolled off his tongue, low and fervent.
He was totally into her, and Gina knew exactly what to do with that.
“Come inside,” she urged, mentally cataloging all the heavy objects in the room she could use to bash him over the head.
“Later. After dark. I come.”
Great. That was not exactly what she was going for, but maybe that was just her impatience talking. If she got his weapon away from him after dark, she’d still be armed, wouldn’t she?
Footsteps sounded from around the corner. Shorty hastily pushed her back into her room and locked the door.
She heard voices outside as he spoke to another man briefly. Once she heard those footsteps fading away, she knocked on the door again.
This time it was opened by the first, older guard. He gave her a sour glare.
“Can I get some food?” she asked, hoping they’d bring her something she could stash in a pillowcase and take with her when she ran.
The guard just stared. She pretended to eat, hoping he’d get the idea. He nodded, then pushed the door closed. The staticky sound of a radio filtered through the solid wood.
He wasn’t even leaving to go get her food.
Gina leaned against the door and let out a sigh of frustration. Now not only did she have a guard she couldn’t distract; she also had an eager young man coming to her room after dark expecting a little somethin’ somethin’ she wasn’t planning to give.
Knowing her luck, Shorty wouldn’t even bring his gun to their late-night rendezvous.
Sloane watched Lucas’s back as he moved over the rough jungle terrain. He was nearly silent, each movement fluid and careful. There was a grace about him that was mesmerizing. She stared too long, nearly tripping over an exposed root.
She caught herself before she fell. He spun around, and she felt his strong grip steadying her. His hands were warm against her bare arms, and just a bit rough. Concern lined his lean face and she was struck by the fact that he would care. “You okay?” he whispered.
Sloane nodded, at a loss for words.
His hands slid up her arms, grazing against her flesh. His touch was light, but it still managed to raise goose bumps on her arms. He adjusted the shoulder strap of her pack, sliding it more squarely into place. “Let me take some of your weight.”
He was already carrying twice as much gear as she was—twice as much weight—but he hadn’t complained. She had the feeling the he never would, either.
As resistant as she’d been to have him tag along, she was glad he was here now. There was no way she would have been able to carry all her weapons and gear without his help. And he was right that the best way to get Gina back was through stealth.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I can handle it.”
“So can I.”
&nbs
p; He hadn’t moved away. He was still in her space, touching her, cupping her shoulders in his big hands, careful of her injury. His navy blue eyes moved over her face as if searching for signs of weakness.
Sloane wasn’t going to let him find any.
Lucas reached up and brushed something from her hair. A small bug flew off, buzzing past her ear. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, giving her an inadvertent caress as he did.
At least she thought it was inadvertent, but the way his eyes tracked the movement before coming back and resting on her mouth now had her thinking otherwise.
She knew she shouldn’t let him touch her like this, but out here, alone in the jungle with no one to know her weakness, she couldn’t find it in her to push him away. It had been way too long since a man had touched her, and even though what he’d done was casual, the way he was looking at her while he did it was anything but.
“We should get moving,” she said in a voice breathy and quiet.
“We could take a break if you like.”
Sloane wanted to say yes, but she was afraid that if she did, he’d keep touching her. And if he kept touching her, she’d be unable to ask him to stop. It felt too nice for her to fool herself by believing otherwise. As handsome as he was, as much as she admired his body and loved the feel of his fingers on her skin, she knew getting involved with him was a mistake. He was one of her father’s men. If she showed any signs of weakness, her father would find out and use it against her. She had to remember that. “I think it’s best if we keep moving.”
He gave her a regretful nod, then lifted his hands from her body and turned away.
Sloane suffered a sudden surge of loneliness, which was ridiculous. He was still right there in front of her. She could still enjoy the sight of his body moving, and that was as much as she was going to let herself have from him. Time to get over it.
It took her the better part of an hour to start feeling like herself again. She was still staring at him, enjoying the power of his body as he hiked, and it was because she was watching him so closely that she noticed the slight pause in his fluid stride. She wasn’t sure what had happened until she saw it again, then again.
For the third time, his left knee gave out and he nearly fell. He recovered quickly and moved on as if nothing had happened, hacking at the thick growth wherever it barred their path.
Sloan was hot, sweaty, and miserable in the stifling thickness of the tropical air. Sunset was not far away, and it was going to get really dark really fast beneath the canopy of trees overhead.
“How far have we come?” she asked Lucas.
“At best a mile, mile and a half.”
Sloane cringed. It felt like ten times that far. “We should find a place to stop.”
“We’ve got another good twenty minutes of daylight left. I thought you wanted to keep going.”
“I’d rather not have to drag your ass back out of here if your knee gives out.”
He stopped, turned, and the snarl on his face was heart-stoppingly scary. “My knee is fine. You won’t need to drag my ass anywhere.”
“So, you can set up camp in the dark?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact. I can.” Then he turned around and kept hiking, his posture rigid and angry.
Okay. Apparently the knee was a tender subject. “I didn’t mean to offend you, but I was trained to know my limitations.”
“Well, I was trained not to have any, so just drop it. I’ll let you know if and when I need a break.”
Fine. Let him suffer. What did she care?
A few minutes later, his knee buckled again. She gasped and reached for him.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“That’s it. We’re stopping here.”
He was sweating and his face was pale with pain. “I can keep going. I just need a minute.”
“No. I’m in charge of this mission and I say we stop here.”
He was kneeling on the ground, looking up at her with mutiny shining in his dark blue eyes. “And what would Gina say?”
“That you’re far too hot to let suffer. I’d hate to take away her chance to get to flirt with you by leaving you behind when your knee gives out entirely.”
He sighed and bowed his head in shame. “I thought I was stronger than this. I don’t want the life of a woman at stake because of some fucking injury.”
“I don’t think her life is at stake—at least not immediately. If he meant to kill her, he would have already done it.” At least that was what Sloane forced herself to believe. She’d moved as fast as she could to help her friend. She had to believe it would be good enough.
“I guess that’s something.” He didn’t look appeased by the notion.
“It’s more important that we do this right than fast. We get ourselves killed and Gina’s SOL.”
Lucas nodded slowly. “Give me a couple hours of downtime and I’ll be as good as new.”
“I’ve only got one pair of night-vision goggles.”
“We’ll find a way to make it work. I won’t let you down.”
Sloane was beginning to believe him. She could see the lines of pain around his mouth and eyes, but he clearly wasn’t going to let that stop him. “I’m not planning to ditch you yet. You make a good pack mule.”
He grinned at her, which made Sloane’s stomach do a slow, lazy roll. He was one hell of a fine-looking man. His slicked-back hairdo had come undone and a few short locks had fallen over his forehead. Beard stubble shadowed his wide jaw, accentuating the stark angles of his face. But it was his mouth that had her complete attention. His grin was lopsided, tiling his full mouth in a way that had her thinking about how his lips would feel against hers. Would they be soft, or hard like the rest of him? Would they be as warm as his fingers were when he touched her?
He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth and he gave her a questioning look. “What? Do I have something on me?”
Sloane swallowed before she could speak, forcing herself to look away. “No.” She cleared her throat and forced herself to sound businesslike. “We should get settled. I’ll find us a good spot. You stay here.”
Before he could argue, Sloane turned and headed into the foliage. She needed a few minutes to regain her balance and get her bearings. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been attracted to a man as strongly as she was to Lucas. It was purely physical. She knew better than to think she could ever fall for a man like her father—which Lucas clearly was. All duty, no heart. Hell, he couldn’t even take pity on himself enough to call a stop to a hike that was clearly causing him pain.
She didn’t need another cold, unfeeling man in her life. She’d already gotten rid of one, and she considered that a lesson learned. Time to move on. She wasn’t foolish enough to tempt herself with girlish fantasies of happily ever after. Men were in her life solely to scratch an itch. End of story.
Sloane made quick work of locating an area big enough to put the small, camouflaged tent she’d brought. It would keep the rain off and the bugs out, but there was no way she was getting inside that tiny thing with Lucas. She knew what would happen if she did.
Her hormones would go haywire; she’d start feeling that itch and start thinking about his mouth again, rather than focusing on getting Gina home. She was too smart to fall for something so easily avoidable. All she had to do was make sure they took turns in the tent and she’d be fine. So would Gina.
Sloane used a machete to cut away some undergrowth and pitched the tent. Ten minutes later, she went back to where Lucas was waiting and pulled the heavy pack from his back. She stumbled under the weight of it, wondering how he’d kept up the pace he had while hauling so much.
“We’re set up a few yards this way,” she said, leading the way.
Lucas had found a stick somewhere and used it like a cane. “Our trail will be obvious to anyone who passes this way, but my hope is no one will stumble across it. I didn’t see any signs of passage.”
“Just in case, I’ll
take first watch. You can have the tent.”
He gave her a weary nod. “Wake me in two hours and we’ll keep moving.”
“Sure,” she said, knowing it was a lie. She had no intention of waking him in two hours. Moving in the thick darkness of the jungle with only one pair of NVGs was beyond stupid. She’d let him sleep through the night and hope that would be enough to get him back on his feet.
Sloane ate, hydrated, set out a small arsenal of weapons—just in case—and settled back against one of the heavy packs to keep watch. Her arm was aching, her body was sore, she was cold now that the sun had set, and she wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a hotel room bed. Well, that and Gina safely tucked into the bed next to hers.
They’d spent countless nights gabbing until dawn at boarding school. Mostly about how much they hated the prison their school had become. And boys. They’d talked for hours about boys.
Sloane smiled at the memory, thinking how innocent she’d been then. How small her world had been. Her old self would have been stunned to know she would one day be sitting here in the jungle, surrounded by the sounds of the nocturnal wildlife and a whole lot of firepower. With a man as tempting as Lucas only a few feet away.
The minutes slid by. Sloane let herself doze, waking every few minutes to ensure they were still alone. About three hours into her watch, she started feeling sick and her eyes began to burn. She flipped on a batteryoperated lantern, drawing a host of flying bugs, but she needed the light to check her injury. Sure enough, it was red and puffy with some kind of infection.
Great. Just what she needed.
Sloane did the best she could to disinfect it again, rebandaged it, and swallowed a couple of the antibiotics she’d brought with her. It was as good as she could hope for until Gina was out of harm’s way.
Sleep pulled at Sloane, but she tried not to doze too deeply and kept waking every few minutes. Lucas had been trained by her father, which meant that between the two of them, he was the more formidable opponent. She hated admitting that, but owed it to Gina to be a realist. Lucas was the one who needed to be at the top of his game. Not her. Gina’s life might depend on it.
Living on the Edge Page 8
