by Elle James
They arrived at the hangar within minutes and entered the big space where the airplane sat waiting for them.
An attendant hurried over to them, “We’ve topped off the fuel and checked all fluid levels. As soon as the chauffeur indicated you were on your way back to the airport, the pilot conducted all preflight inspections and is ready to file a flight plan.”
As they approached the aircraft, the steps were lowered. Tracie climbed aboard first, followed by Rip. The flight attendant secured the door behind them. Tracie led the way to the middle of the plane where she flipped one of the tabletops open, revealing a computer screen. She tapped several keys, and in moments she had Hank’s face up on the screen. “Hank, we’re back on board the Freedom Flight.”
“Glad you’re safely aboard. Brandon wiped the security video of any images including you and Schafer.”
“Good. I’m not certain how soon the body will be discovered. Your help with the security footage should give us some time to get out of Atlanta. We found some data in the DEA boss’s vehicle. I’m scanning it now.”
She raised another part of the table, revealing a computer scanner, and fed the documents they’d found in the DEA agent’s vehicle into the machine.
Hank’s attention shifted to something beside his monitor. “Got them. I’ll have Brandon double check the identities of the men in the photos. But I can’t move on nailing the suppliers of the weapons until we have some serial numbers.”
Rip frowned and leaned close to Tracie so that he could see and be seen by Hank. “The only way to get serial numbers is to go back to Honduras and get them off the guns.”
Hank nodded. “Afraid so.”
Rip’s gaze captured Tracie’s and then returned to Hank. “She can’t come with me. It’s too dangerous.”
Hank’s brows rose. “Miss Kosart’s a trained professional. She knows the risks.”
“Look, frogman, I can speak for myself.” Tracie shoved him aside. “I’m on board. So we’re headed to Honduras as planned?”
Hank smiled. “You can opt out, if you feel it’s too dangerous for your liking?”
“I’ve been in worse situations,” she said, her lips thinning.
“Exactly. You might not want to go to that extreme again. The men in that terrorist camp are pure evil and have little regard for women.”
“Hank’s right,” Rip confirmed. “It’s not a good place for a woman.”
“Or a man.” Tracie crossed her arms. “If we don’t go in for the additional information, how will we stop whoever it is selling American weapons to terrorists?”
Rip opened his mouth to say something, but the stubborn set of Tracie’s chin made him realize he wouldn’t get her to change her mind. Instead, he turned to Hank. “I won’t be able to focus on the mission if I’m worried my partner can’t keep up or will be captured and tortured.”
“She’s your partner. We can’t activate your SEAL unit and send them in again. They’ve been in once and that got one of your men killed. Someone is dirty on the Fed side. Until we find that person, we can’t count on the secrecy of the operation if we involve your unit or any other government agency.”
“I trust my brothers.”
“So did Gosling.” Hank stared straight into Rip’s eyes. “Tracie can handle it.”
“Yeah,” Tracie said, her ire up. “I don’t need you or any other man telling me what is too dangerous for me. We go in together or, if you think it’s too dangerous, I’ll go alone.”
Tracie stared at Rip, holding his gaze, daring him to try to override her decision.
Finally, Rip shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”
“That plan is not in my books.” Tracie aimed for confident, when inside she wasn’t quite as certain. The kidnapping in Mexico had shaken her more than she cared to admit.
“Then you’re deluding yourself. You’re headed right into trouble.”
Her chin tilted upward. “That’s my choice.”
The flight attendant appeared. “If you would fasten your seat belts, we can get underway.”
Rip frowned into the screen. “How do you propose the two of us sneak into the terrorist camp?”
“I’ve got that covered. You will be the guests of a friend of mine.” Hank grinned. “You’re honeymooners, I’m sure they have tourists wander off the beaten path on occasion. And Rip you will be especially prone to wandering off. Your cover is a wealthy entrepreneur looking for potential investment property.”
“On my honeymoon?”
“My contact has the story spreading already. You’re notorious for your arrogance and disregard for anyone but yourself.”
Rip snorted. “I’m an entrepreneur in a violent, nearly lawless country?”
Tracie’s brows rose. “Are you afraid?”
He met her stare with his own, his lips firmly set into a straight line. “Not for me. If you recall, I’ve been there. I know what the terrorists are capable of.”
“Then you’ll be the best guide to get us back in there.” Tracie nodded at Hank. “We’re good to go.”
Hank tipped his head. “Glad to see you two agreeing. Your flight plan has been filed. Brandon tells me you’re number three in line to take off. My contact, Hector DeVita, will greet you on his private landing strip. I’m sending two of my best bodyguards from CCI to provide some backup. They should arrive soon after you.”
“Only two?” Rip’s lips thinned. “Honduras is overrun with rebels, terrorists and guerillas, and you’re sending only two of your best bodyguards for us?”
Hank smile. “DeVita will augment with several men of his own. He’s in the security business, providing bodyguards and human shields to the wealthier members of Honduras’s population. The plane you’re on is fully equipped with an arsenal of weapons you might familiarize yourself with.”
Tracie harrumphed. “Some honeymoon.”
“Nothing but the best for my baby,” Rip winked at her.
“Good luck, you two. Make use of the satellite phone if things get tough. I’ll answer at any hour.”
When the call ended, Rip stared across at Tracie. “I felt better going in under the cover of dark with my SEAL team.”
“What? You’re not up for a frontal assault in full daylight with only a girl as your sidekick?” She leaned back in her chair. “No guts, no glory.”
The giant hangar door opened to let in the afternoon glare. The plane taxied out into the sunshine. Within minutes, they were in the air, winging their way to Honduras.
Tracie closed her eyes. “You might as well get some rest. Once we hit the ground in Honduras, we’ll need all our faculties to pull off this information-gathering honeymoon.”
Once they had serial numbers or even a manifest, they might have a chance of tracing the weapons back to those in the United States who had sold them. Nothing like barreling into a potentially hostile situation pretending to be a newlywed couple to get your adrenaline pumping.
Knowing they were headed into a hotbed of danger in the steamy Central American jungles of Honduras didn’t stop a chill from slipping across Tracie’s skin.
Whatever happened, she refused to be taken captive ever again. If the terrorists wanted her, they’d have to kill her before she’d surrender.
* * *
RIP REMAINED AWAKE, studying all the information they had on the case. He reviewed every photograph to glean as much insight as possible from the details in the images they’d obtained from Franks...everything from the faces to the crates of weapons.
After the botched retrieval of the DEA agent by SBT-22, the terrorist camp had probably moved to another location, taking advantage of the jungle’s canopy for concealment from satellite photography. Finding them would be a challenge.
Beside him, Tracie had leaned back in the contoured seat with he
r eyes closed, the steady rise and fall of her chest letting Rip know she’d fallen asleep.
His attention shifted from the computer to the sleeping woman beside him.
Her long, soft brown hair fanned out around her shoulders, and her dark brown lashes made shadowy crescents against her cheeks. Apparently, she was caught in a not-so-pleasant dream. She shivered again and whimpered.
Her eyelids twitched, her eyes beneath them darting back and forth. Her fingers clenched the armrests and a tremor shook her body. Rip motioned to the flight attendant to bring a blanket. He took it from her and laid it across Tracie his hand finding hers.
She let go of the armrest, fingers curling around his, squeezing so tightly she nearly cut off his circulation.
“Tracie,” Rip whispered. “Wake up.”
Her head turned from side to side and she whimpered again.
“Tracie, wake up.” Rip made his entreaty more forceful. He didn’t like seeing her in such distress. What kind of dream was it to make her so upset?
When she still didn’t wake, he leaned forward and captured her face between his palms. “Tracie, it’s okay. You’re just dreaming.”
The CCI agent’s eyes blinked open, the startling green of them piercing Rip through the heart with the anguish reflected in them. She stared around at the interior of the plane. “What...where?” She shook her head and her gaze locked with Rip’s.
He stroked his thumbs across her cheek. “Remember me? I’m your husband.” He winked and pressed a kiss to her forehead, liking the sound of the word on his lips. What would it be like to be Tracie’s husband? “You were having a bad dream.” He leaned back, letting go of her face.
Tracie touched her fingers to the place he’d kissed and frowned. “Oh, it’s you.” Dragging in a shaky breath, she let it go slowly and sat up. “I’m sorry. For a moment I forgot where I was.”
“I take it you weren’t in such a good place in your dream.” He tucked the blanket in around her sides.
Sitting up, Tracie adjusted her seat to an upright position and pulled the blanket up to her chin, her body trembling. “It was only a dream. How long have we been flying?”
“Two and a half hours.”
“That long?” She pushed her hair back from her face and slipped an elastic band around the thick hank, securing it in a ponytail at her nape. “I must have needed the sleep. What about you? Did you rest?”
“I can rest when we solve this case, and I can return to the land of the living.”
Tracie’s lips twisted. “I know this must be difficult for you to play dead and alive at the same time. Hopefully, we’ll get in, get out and the terrorists will be none the wiser.”
Rip snorted. “That’s what we planned when we went in to get Greer out.” He glanced out the window into the clear blue sky. “That’s not quite how it worked.” Gosling’s wife had been devastated when she’d gotten the news of his death. She’d almost lost the baby.
Tracie laid her hand on his arm. “We’ll do the best we can. You should get some rest.”
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “What were you dreaming about when I woke you?”
A long moment of silence stretched between them.
Rip opened one eye.
Tracie stared straight ahead, her face pale and drawn. Finally, she spoke. “I was dreaming about Mexico.”
Closing his eye again, he allowed his lips to quirk upward in a wry grin. “I take it you weren’t dreaming about a vacation to Cozumel?”
“Not hardly.”
Rip opened his eyes.
Tracie had turned her head away and stared out the window. Her back stiff.
“Dreaming about being held hostage by members of a drug cartel?”
She nodded.
Rip slid his hand over hers and gently squeezed her fingers. “I’m sorry.”
Tracie turned to stare at where their hands touched. “It happens.”
“Yeah, but it’s not something you get over that easy. I’d bet you have PTSD.”
She shrugged. “What do you do? Give up?” She shook her head. “Not my style.” Her hand slipped from beneath his.
Rip’s grip tightened before she got away. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it.”
“Thanks, but I did enough talking to the FBI shrink.” She tugged again and he let go of her hand. “I want to get on with my life, not dwell in the past.”
“I get it.”
“Perhaps we should look at the weapons Hank sent for our use,” Tracie suggested.
The flight attendant cleared her throat. “Mr. Derringer also provided additional clothing, if you’d like to change.” She opened a small closet with an arrangement of clothing hung on hangers that included several nice dresses in light colors typical of warm climates, a man’s light gray suit and a white linen suit next to it.
“Oh, please,” Tracie said. “Wear the white one. It reeks of spoiled, rich playboy.”
“I thought I was going for wealthy entrepreneur.”
“True, but that white, with your dark hair, will make more of a first impression. Very sexy.”
Rip’s brows rose and his lips curved upward. “You noticed?”
Tracie shrugged. “I’m an agent. It’s my job to notice things.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Fine.” Tracie frowned. “Wear the gray one. I don’t care.” She disappeared around a curtain at the rear of the plane with one of the dresses.
Though he tried not to, he couldn’t help watching Tracie’s bare feet beneath the curtain. The red dress pooled on the floor and she stepped out of it, then light yellow filmy fabric puddled on the floor of the plane and Tracie’s feet stepped into the middle of it.
Something about her bare feet had Rip’s blood singing through his veins at Mach 5. He had the urge to yank the curtain back and feast his eyes on her naked body.
A slow chuckle built in his chest and he nearly laughed out loud at what he expected her reaction would be if he followed his urge. He rubbed his cheek where he guessed she’d slap it. But, damn, it would be worth it. The woman had his insides tied in knots.
Tracie emerged, wearing a beautiful dress that hugged her breasts, emphasizing the ripe, rounded fullness while drawing attention to the narrowness of her tiny waist. The skirt flared out and fell to midthigh. Long legs stretched from what seemed like her chin to her slender feet encased in nude, strappy stilettos. She was pulling her hair up into a sleek French twist, her arms raised, head tucked low.
For a moment, Rip could only stand and stare. When she finally glanced up, she caught him gawking.
Snapping his mouth shut, he took the white suit off the hanger and stepped behind the curtain, coming out when he had the white trousers on, a black button-up shirt, open halfway down his chest and the jacket hooked on his finger and slung over one shoulder.
Tracie stood beside the closet, arms crossed over her chest, a cocky look on her face. When she caught sight of him, her mouth opened as if to say something and closed again without uttering a word. She swallowed hard, the muscles in her throat working. “I—” Her voice came out in a tight squeak. After clearing her throat, she finally managed, “I was right. Damned sexy.” Then she turned on her stilettos and marched back into the cabin.
Rip chuckled. If he wasn’t mistaken, the woman had been tongue-tied by him in a white suit. Who’d have thought a man in a white suit would have that much of an effect on a woman. He’d have to ask Hank where he’d gotten this one. It would be worth it to invest in something that inspiring. Especially if Tracie thought it made him look sexy.
He returned to the cabin with a wide, satisfied grin on his face.
* * *
FOR THE NEXT thirty minutes, Rip and Tracie poured over the racks of rifles, grenade launchers, pistols and explo
sives with which Hank had seen fit to equip the small armory on the airplane.
Rip tucked a HK .40 caliber pistol in his boot, then he grabbed a nine-millimeter Glock in a shoulder holster and slung it over his shoulders.
The flight attendant stepped up behind him and offered to hold the white linen jacket that went with the tailored white trousers, while he slipped his arms into the sleeves.
Though the sleeves were long, the entire outfit was surprisingly comfortable and cool. Used to heavy battle-dress uniforms, bullet-proof vests and helmets, Rip felt somewhat naked and exposed in the suit.
“Smile. You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon without a care in the world.” Tracie adjusted the collar of his shirt beneath the jacket and patted his chest. “You look more like a kid in his itchy, Sunday best.”
Rip fidgeted. “I’d rather go in with my M4 on automatic.”
“Well, we can’t. We’re honeymooners and guests of Hector, so act like you’re in love.” Tracie’s eyes widened and a smile curled her lips. “Unless you’ve never been in love.” Her brows climbed up her forehead. “You haven’t, have you?”
He shook his head. “Haven’t had the time. I was a little preoccupied with SEAL training straight out of Navy basic and saving the world one bad guy at a time for the past seven years.”
She smiled at him. “Let me guess...it’s a tough job, but—”
“—someone has to do it.” With one arm, he captured her around the waist and clamped her body against his, his other hand reaching up to cup her face in his palm. “Is this better, mi amore?” He bent to claim her lips with his. At first he did it to prove a point, but when her body pressed to his, it triggered a response he wasn’t prepared for.
Her arms slid around his neck and her breasts pressed against his chest, he couldn’t break the kiss to save his life.
Not until a discreet cough sounded nearby.
Her cheeks flushed, the flight attendant gave him a weak smile. “Sorry, but Hank’s on the satellite phone. He wants to talk to you two before we land.”
Tracie stepped away and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. “Tell him we’ll bring him up on the computer.” She took a seat at the monitor and clicked the keyboard, bringing up a video feed of Hank.
