At Any Cost

by Allie K. Adams

  So when she heard a noise behind her, she almost let out a yelp. How in the hell did he find her? Did he have a nose like a dog? Because he sure ran around like a canine in heat.

  JT took the few steps needed to step around the trunk of a tree. Looking around, she found a good-sized branch on the ground and picked it up. If it turned out to be one of Mercado's men, then she'd apologize later. If it turned out to be Mercado, she'd knock him out and smother him with the piece of see-through fabric he made her wear.

  She listened, holding her breath. She could sense the person right on the other side of the tree, moving toward her. It was now or never. Bringing the branch up, she stepped out and swung it as hard as she could.

  He dropped like a chunk of lead. She stood above him, the branch above her head, ready to finish the job if she had to.

  "Jesus Christ, Turner."

  "Dan?" She dropped the branch and knelt down. "Oh my God. Did I hurt you?"

  Stupid question. Of course she hurt him. She split his cheek open, bloodied his nose, and he'd be sporting a nice shiner come morning. She reached down to assess the damage.

  He jerked away and blinked a few times as he shook his head in an attempt to get his eyes to focus. His right eye had already started to swell.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Looking for you," he rasped and looked up at her with his one good eye. "You okay?"

  She laughed and pulled him into her arms. Her entire being thrilled as hell to see him. He smelled great. Looked even better, new wounds and all. "Please tell me you are here to take me back with you."

  "I figured you never wanted to see me again after what happened to your uncle."

  JT hugged him closer. She spent her entire day deliberating over that. Her Uncle Charlie died doing what he loved—protecting his country. Dan did what he thought to be the right thing to do. And it probably was. She couldn't hate him for that. And when she took care of Mercado and returned to Seattle, she'd come to terms with her grief. For now she had to think about those still living, and those she wanted to remain living. Like her.

  "How did you find me? The earrings?"

  He nodded, then shrugged. "Not at first. They only have a range of about two miles. When you didn't show up on the tracker, Snyder and I actually did a little spy work."

  "David's here, too?" Her eyes shined. "Thank God."

  "David? Since when are you two on a first name basis? Something you want to tell me?" He stated gruffly, trying to keep the protective tone out of his voice, she was sure. Hearing his reaction made her warm and tingly all over.

  "Is that a hint of jealousy I hear, Superspy?"

  He returned her smile. "You know, I don't think lactose-y is a word."

  She lowered her lips to his, desperate to taste him, to have him pull her from this nightmare—if only for a brief time. He pulled her down and rolled her over on top of him, bubbling a giggle out of her. Their kiss deepened, the taste of his lips sending a shock wave through her entire body. Her nipples, already hard from the night air, puckered in response.

  His hands traced a path down her ribcage, and JT felt the heat from his touch through the thin material. She sat up as she straddled him and gazed down. She could already feel her wetness start to saturate her.

  He glanced at her outfit and nodded in approval. "I like this. Nightgown?"

  "No. He had me wear this to dinner."

  Dan lost his smile. "In front of him?"

  "Not just him. About thirty of his men."

  He cursed under his breath, shook his head. "The bastard. I'm sorry you had to do that, sweetheart."

  Sweetheart ? JT's entire body spasmed. He'd called her sweetheart, and not for the first time. Who knew a single word could draw such a reaction out of her? "Kiss me."

  She grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a sitting position. His lips were warm and sweet as they covered hers. Her body ached under the fabric. He read her mind and lightly touched an aching bud.

  He lifted her dress to her hips and, using his very talented fingers, eased his way through her aching folds, deep inside her. She threw her head back and moaned. She heard a zipper and started to pant in anticipation. Positioning her on his hips, he thrust inside and JT moaned again, the feeling of him buried inside her so great, so intense she wanted to cry out.

  Covering her mouth so he would swallow her cries of passion instead of risking anyone else hearing, he started to move in her. Their position gave her the perfect friction. She started to rock her hips, matching his pace. She just could not get enough of this man.

  They moved faster, deepening their contact. She started to buck when her orgasm crashed down on her, crying into his mouth, riding him into his own climax, returning the favor of swallowing his groans of passion.

  He gasped for air as he held her, his arms wrapped so tightly around her she had a hard time breathing. But she wasn't about to complain. She kissed the top of his head and stood to let him up, her legs quivering in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

  "Where did that come from," Dan asked as he righted his clothes and brushed off. He then turned to her and did the same to her.

  "Must be this slutty dress. It's turned me into a hussy."

  "I really like the dress. When this is over, think you can smuggle it back?"

  The thought of them having anything together when this was over gave her mixed feelings. She figured what they had would stay in Colombia. She wanted more from him, possibly even a future together. But the reality always crashed the party and made her think rationally.

  They had nothing in common, aside from being wildly attracted to each other and a perfect match physically. But there had to be more to a relationship than sex. They may not realize that now, but as soon as the thrill of the mission ended, so would their passion.

  The thought nearly brought JT to her knees. She really liked Dan. Possibly loved him. Knowing their relationship would only be short term broke her heart.

  But she'd recover. And so would he. Besides, he'd told her over and over he liked to work solo. No partners. Having her hang around went against everything he'd ever said.

  But she wasn't about to let him go after Peck alone. She'd stay by his side for that task, and then they'd part ways. Forever.

  "We need to come up with a plan." JT fidgeted with her dress and brushed away nonexistent dirt.

  Using the curve of his knuckle, he brought her chin up and met her eyes. He looked like hell. His right eye had almost swollen shut and he had blood smeared all over his cheek. Which meant she probably did, too.

  "You look like you've been in a bar fight."

  Dan lifted his brow with a chuckle. "You should see the other guy. Have you found anything?"

  "Did you not get any of it? I've been talking to you all day."

  "Sorry I missed that." He flinched when she nailed him in the ribs with her elbow. "The only thing I heard was your fascinating conversation at dinner. I didn't know you were lactose intolerant."

  "I'm not. Did you understand anything they were saying?"

  "Yeah, I got it. Mercado has a big shipment of heroin due out Saturday. Final preparations have been made for the buyers. Oh, and did I mention Peck has LEON and is on his way here?"

  JT felt her blood slow. No. Not the weapon of targeted destruction. After everything they'd done to keep it from him, it still ended up in his hands. With Mercado's connections with all the wrong people, who knew where it would lead. She recalled the partial conversation from the limo. "Peck is selling LEON to Mercado for ten million dollars."

  Dan whistled. "More than we thought. According to his records, Mercado only has four million in reserves. He needs another six. How much do you suppose that heroin is worth?"

  JT turned one side of her mouth up into a grin. She loved the way his mind worked. Just like hers. "He's using the heroin shipment to finance LEON ."

  He winked with his one good eye. "You got it."

  "So now what?"

  "Now we go
to Plan B. With modifications."

  "There's a Plan B?"

  "There is now," he answered. "As much as I hate to do this, you have to go back in there."

  Fear gripped her heart. She couldn't go back in there. Mercado had a taste for blood—women's blood. She was next in line. "I don't want to go back in there."

  "I know, babe. But we need to find out more about that heroin. Taking out Mercado doesn't take out the moneymaker. We have to get at that shipment and destroy it. We can't destroy it if we don't know where it is. We'll meet back in this spot the same time tomorrow night."

  "So we take out the heroin, we take out Mercado's bid for LEON ?"

  "Exactly. Mercado loses the bid for LEON . And Peck is out ten million dollars." He smiled. "That'll piss him off."

  JT frowned. "It may slow him down, but it won't stop him from finding another buyer."

  His smile grew. "Nope. That's our job."

  Chapter 19

  JT floated on an air mattress in the pool, per Mercado's request. She was back in the dental floss outfit, an apparent pleasing view for him. He sat at one of the umbrella-covered tables, sipping at some fresh lemonade and having a rather heated conversation on the phone while gawking at her.

  He slammed the phone down and removed his hat to run the back of his hand across his forehead. Not a drop of sweat. The man couldn't be human. He sported a full suit and it had to be in the nineties, with the humidity at least twice that.

  "I am sorry, Miss Jessica, that you had to hear that."

  JT shrugged and sipped at a lemonade of her own, sure there had to be a tracer of vodka in it, and God only knew what else. "I told you I can't speak Spanish. I have no idea what you just said." For the most part, that was true. He spoke so fast and with such a thick accent she couldn't understand anything he said. "You could talk in Spanish all day long and I'd never understand any of it."

  He flashed a grin, stood and walked to the end of the pool. Kneeling down, he motioned for her. She paddled over and stopped right under him. He leaned down and tested the water with his fingers.

  "Are you allowed to be in the water with your wound?"

  "The bandage is waterproof." She hoped. It held true thus far.

  "And your earrings?"

  "They are waterproof." That much she knew for sure.

  Pulling his hand out, he rested it on her thigh, slowly running a trail of wetness from her knee to her hip. JT held her breath and allowed him to touch her. For the mission. MissionMissionMission. She had to chant to keep herself from breaking the man's fingers, and whatever else he touched her with.

  His eyes found hers. "I am glad you are feeling better today. I worried about you last night. You were out for such a very long time."

  Her heart skipped as she held his eyes. "I wasn't having any fun, trust me."

  He brought his hand up to her face, rested it on her cheek. "What were you doing then? And do not lie. I know when a woman lies."

  "What would I have to lie about?"

  "I heard voices coming from the dark."

  I'm sure you hear voices, you psychopath . She tried to come up with something, anything, to cover for what she really did last night. "Oh, that." She took a long sip of her lemonade. "Those weren't voices. That was me. I talk to myself when I throw up. That's what I was doing out there for so long. Throwing up. You might have even heard me moan a few times."

  His hand traveled down and caressed her neck. JT swallowed. "Your beautiful dress was dirty."

  She nodded. "My knees, too. I must have been on them for a good twenty minutes."

  Wrapping his fingers around her neck, he slowly stroked her throat. If the bastard wanted to strangle her, she'd pull him in and drown him right here. "It displeases me that you had to go through such misery."

  Oh, yeah. It was really terrible. JT looked up at him. The blackness in his eyes made her stomach turn. She had to look away. His hand on her throat felt like a million spiders crawling all over her.

  "When something displeases me, I do what is needed to make sure it doesn't happen again."

  She returned her gaze up to his face. Was that another warning? A threat?

  "The chef has been, how you say, mutado."

  Mutado ? JT searched her mental Spanish databank. When she remembered the word, her heart painfully stopped and started again. "You killed the cook?"

  "Sí. You will not have reason to leave my house tonight. We will have dinner in my room, and dessert in my bed."

  Oh crap. JT pushed past her want to bolt right now. She knew a private dinner would be the perfect opportunity to get him to talk about the drugs. As soon as he told her about the shipment, she'd steal the gun she knew he had on him somewhere and kill him with a single shot. The rest of the house would assume he grew tired of her already. She might even have an entire hour to escape before anyone was the wiser. "I'd like nothing better."

  Her sneered down at her. "You, Miss Jessica, are difficult to read."

  "I'm not a book, Santos." She winked up at him. "If you want to read me, open me up."

  She didn't miss the color as it spread across his face. "I would like nothing better. A night alone with you would be like paradise."

  I'm sure it would, you freak . Not to take any chances, she decided a little trip out to her stash of weapons would be in order. A little gift Dan left for her last night in a rotted out stump. She'd sneak the gun back into the house and hide it under his mattress.

  "I shall enjoy my night with you, Miss Jessica." His hand slid lower and lower, tracing her flesh with the back of his knuckles. She closed her eyes when he found her left breast. He traced the edge of the suit with his fingers, touching her skin more than the cloth. Using the flat of his hand, he then covered the curve of her breast and squeezed it like a tomato. JT hissed in a sharp breath. "As you will, I am sure. Your body responds to my touch."

  JT wanted to kill him. Right now. She could do it. Dan would understand. He was probably listening in and ready to kill Mercado himself.

  "You want to spend the evening alone in your room?" Translation: Danger, Dan Weber. Danger!

  "Sí."

  She met him square in the eye. "Then maybe you should wait to grope me until we are in the privacy of your room."

  He lost his sleazy smile. Color hit his cheeks again. "I do not take orders. You Americans are so arrogant. I touch my women where I want, and when I want."

  "I'm not your woman." She held her ground, though she had a feeling it wouldn't do a bit of good. If anything, it would move up her date with his gun. Didn't hurt her feelings any. The sooner he tried to kill her, the sooner she could turn the table and kill him instead.

  He studied her and, for one intense moment, she thought he was going to take out his gun and shoot her right there in the pool. Suddenly, his hand gripped her throat. He dug his fingers into her neck. Then, he started to smile again.

  She grabbed at his hand and tried to pry his finger away from her windpipe. Her heart started racing, pulsing her blood through her veins at an unbelievable rate. Panic surfaced when he squeezed tighter, cutting off her airway. She jerked, trying to break free.

  His voice was low and dangerous as he spoke. "You have not learned, nor have you earned, your place in my home. You will come to my room tonight and show me your appreciation for my hospitality." He removed his hand and JT gasped for air.

  She coughed and rubbed her neck. "And if I refuse?"

  His dark, fathomless eyes never left hers. "You do not want to do that. Spend the night in my company. The alternative is much more unpleasant." He tapped on her chest, causing JT to flinch. "You are getting pink. Perhaps enough sun for the day?"

  JT nodded. He backed away from the pool, his eyes never leaving her face, her body.

  "I wish not to hurt you, Miss Jessica. Please do not make the wrong decision." He then turned and walked into the house. She waited a few minutes, and then grabbed the sheer robe he'd laid across the chair for her.

  Okay, psycho
. You want to play rough? We'll play rough. "I hope you heard all that, Dan. This guy is a couple bullets shy of a full clip. He killed his cook because he thought I got sick from the food. And he tried strangling me just now." JT brought her hand back to her raw throat. It throbbed.

  "Oh, and you heard that I now have to be alone in his room with him tonight. I'm not impressed with Plan B so far. If you decide to barge in early, guns blazing, I wouldn't mind." She blew out a breath. Not in the least.

  She took the same path she took last night, her mind drifting back to the last part of her conversation with Dan. After telling him what Mercado did to his last 'girl', and watching Dan's eyes grow lethal, they came up with yet another modification to the plan. He didn't want her alone with Mercado, and JT was just fine with that.

  Mercado's plans for dinner threw a wrench in their plan. But JT had insurance. She had a gun, and she had Dan. With her diamond earrings, he'd hear everything they were talking about. If the situation got hairy, he'd know it. He'd barge in and rescue her. Right?

  So now she had to be alone with the psycho. Great. JT accepted the fact she may be in over her head on this one. She found the hollowed out log Dan had hidden off into a corner of Mercado's compound. In it he stashed a small arsenal for her. "Thank you, Superspy."

  That evened the odds a bit. She felt better knowing she'd be able to shoot back if Mercado tried to take care of her the way he took care of Marcella.

  JT glanced down at her outfit. Dental floss and Bandages, and a sheer robe probably made of the same material as her dress from last night. Where in the hell was she going to hide a gun?

  Damn it. She replaced the gun and covered the log back up with the large leaves. She'd just have to change into something a little more modest, if she could find anything. Mercado already took the clothes she came in with and replaced her wardrobe with overly tight and way-too-short dresses, and bathing suits even Sports Illustrated would consider obscene.

  She should know, having modeled for Sports Illustrated and hating every second in front of that camera. Using her sex like that felt so degrading. Women should make the cover of magazines based on their mind, on their athletic ability, not on how good they looked in a bathing suit.