Tempting Faith

by Susan Mallery

  of the sink. She turned to leave and saw Cort standing in the doorway.

  He had his arms folded over his chest. “A truce,” he said. “For tonight.”

  “Why? Is something going to happen?” With all the emotional upheavals, she’d been able to put aside her fear, but now it returned.

  “I don’t know.”

  She nodded slowly. “All right, Cort. A truce.”

  He walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Hush.” She looked up at him. “We both have regrets.” His fingers felt warm and comforting as he touched her. “This has been hard on us. You have to worry about security. I feel responsible for what happened to Ken.”

  “You’re not responsible. If anyone’s to blame—”

  “It’s not your fault, either.”

  He studied her solemnly. “You’re a hell of a woman, Faith Newlin.”

  “You have your moments, as well.”

  “Gee, thanks.” He put his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the room. “What are the chances of you quietly going to bed and sleeping until morning?”

  She told herself to step away from him. The casual contact was exquisite torture, reminding her of all the things that would never be. “What are you going to do?”

  “Sit guard.”

  “I thought the expression was ‘stand guard.’”

  “Only if there’s no chair.”

  She gently punched him in the side. “Then I’m going to sit guard with you.”

  “Somehow I figured you’d say that.” He stopped in front of her bedroom door and looked down at her shirt. “You need to dress in dark colors. Long sleeves would be best. Get changed, then meet me in the foyer.” He grinned. “You any good at poker?”

  “I’ve never played much.”

  His grin got broader. “Good.”

  *

  Somewhere close to midnight, Cort picked up his radio and made a routine call to the two men down at the gate. Faith listened to the crackling static and stifled a yawn. The spy business was pretty boring. They’d spent the evening sitting on the vinyl couch in the foyer of the main building, playing cards. So far she’d learned how to play blackjack and Siguiendo la Reina. The latter consisted of a series of changing wild cards that made the outcome of each game a surprise. She and Cort had avoided mention of anything personal, which left very little to talk about, so they’d concentrated on the game.

  He spoke into the walkie-talkie again, this time louder. She looked up. “Anything wrong?” she asked.

  “They’re not answering.” He stood up, walked over to the light switch and flipped it off. The room plunged into darkness with only the outside light filtering through the windows to ease the gloom. He tried to raise the other men.

  Faith’s boredom vanished and apprehension took its place. She wiped her suddenly damp hands against her black jeans. As Cort had requested, she’d changed into a long-sleeved dark shirt. He wore black pants, sweatshirt and athletic shoes.

  After several seconds of static, she heard a man speak. She reached for the guns positioned next to them on the floor. She tucked her revolver in her waistband at the small of her back, and handed Cort his Beretta. He spoke for a minute, listened to the reply, then issued instructions and clicked off the equipment.

  “None of the six men on duty are answering,” he told her, his expression grim. “There were two guards at the gate and four positioned around the perimeter. Andy and three others were sleeping. They’re going to surround the compound and start looking for the missing men.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  His answer was cut off by a low whistle. Faith wasn’t even sure she’d heard it, but Cort instantly sprang into action and headed for the door. “Stay here and lock the door behind me,” he told her as he slipped out into the darkness.

  “Wait a minute,” she said, about to complain, but she was talking to herself. As she debated whether or not she should follow Cort, she locked the door. But before she could make up her mind, someone or something bumped against the back door.

  Her heart leapt to her throat and her palms grew damp. She drew her gun and held the weapon out in front of her.

  “Who is it?” she called quietly.

  “Cort. I’ve got an injured man. Open up.”

  She stuffed the pistol back in her waistband and pulled the door open. Cort stood in the shadows, holding one of the guards.

  “Oh my God.” She helped him carry Ralph into the examining room. While Cort slid him onto the metal table, she made sure the blinds were pulled tight, then clicked on a single light directly above the wounded man.

  Blood coated the upper half of his body and stained his khaki pants. Faith swallowed hard. She’d seen lots of wounded cats before, but never a person this badly hurt. She washed her hands and grabbed the tray of antiseptic and bandages that she’d set up earlier.

  As she unbuttoned Ralph’s shirt, Cort checked his eyes.

  “They’re dilating,” he said.

  She pushed the shirt aside and saw a wound in his left shoulder and another in his right arm. Cort glanced at the holes. “Small-caliber bullets,” he said. “Doesn’t look fatal.”

  “Glad to hear that,” Ralph mumbled, shaking his head.

  Faith pressed gauze to the wounds to stop the bleeding. “How do you feel?”

  Ralph started to sit up, then dropped back with a groan. “Like I’m going to pass out.”

  “What happened?” Cort asked.

  She reached for wide tape and secured the dressing on the guard’s arm, then started to work on his shoulder. Having something to do took her mind off her fear.

  “They came out of nowhere.”

  “You were posted by the gate?”

  “Yeah. I thought I heard something. A truck or a van. I stepped out into the road, then bang, they shot me. Never saw where they were hiding. Next thing I know, I’m eating asphalt.” Faith wrapped tape around his shoulder. When she was done, he gave her a shaky smile. “Thanks. When I came to, there wasn’t any sign of intruders or the other guard on duty. I’d dropped my radio, but the Jeep was still sitting there. I drove up here right away.”

  “Where’s the Jeep?”

  “In the bushes.”

  Cort gave a curt nod. “Good work.” He looked at Faith. “Call the police and get an ambulance up here.”

  She hurried to the extension on the wall and picked up the receiver. It was dead. She tapped the button several times, but nothing happened.

  “There’s no dial tone.”

  Cort swore. “They’ve cut the lines. The trailer has a twoway radio.” He pulled his walkie-talkie from his pocket and spoke into it. He instructed Andy to have one of the men call for help and informed him of the guard’s condition.

  When he was finished, he looked at Faith. “Unless there’s a patrol car already on its way out in this direction, it’ll be about a half hour until help arrives. You lock yourself in here and—”

  “No! I’m not staying here. I’m a good shot, Cort. I can help.” “You’ve never been in a combat situation. Stay here with him.” Ralph raised himself up on his elbow. “I’m fine.”

  “They’re my cats,” she said, determined to make him listen. “My responsibility. You’re going to need all the help you can get. I’ll just follow you, anyway. Unless you plan on tying me up, you’re stuck with me.” With that, she covered the wounded man with a blanket, gave him a quick smile and doused the light. “Let’s go.”

  Cort hesitated. “Damn fool woman.”

  “Yell at me later.”

  He stepped into the hall, paused, then went back and gave his walkie-talkie to the guard. “Call if you get into trouble.”

  “Right.”

  Cort closed the door behind him, locked it and motioned for Faith to follow. “Do exactly as I say,” he told her, his voice quiet.

  “I will.”

  “If you don’t, you’ll die.”


  The fear returned, but she refused to give in. “I understand.”

  He went first, leading the way out the back door and around the right to the underbrush. She kept low to the ground, imitating his crouching run. When they stopped in the cover of several bushes, she pulled out her revolver.

  “We can’t see the front from here,” she said. “How will we know when they get here?”

  “They won’t come up the front.”

  “How do you know?”

  Cort grabbed her arm and pulled her farther back into the brush. The bushes rustled with each movement. Small branches scratched at her arms, and she was grateful for the long sleeves of her shirt.

  “If they were coming up the driveway, they would already have arrived. They’re probably going around the long way, up by the Big House.”

  She glanced to her right. The narrow road from the Big House to the compound was barely visible through the leaves.

  “That means they’ll come out right here.”

  “Exactly.”

  It was as if her questions had conjured up their enemy. First she heard the muffled sound of an engine. It grew louder, then there was silence. Seconds later a large dark van moved along the road and rolled to a stop just before entering the compound. The driver’s door opened, and a man stepped out. Faith caught her breath in her throat. They were so close, she could smell the sweat of his body and see the gleaming black leather of his boots.

  In front of her, Cort motioned for silence. She nodded her assent; she had no intention of making a sound. She placed her hand on her chest and prayed they couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart.

  The men collected on the opposite side of the van. She heard the door slide open and the distinctive clinking of rifles banging together. Then the men stepped out in front of the van and fanned out. There were four altogether. Three went toward the building, and the fourth moved up the compound, keeping close to the cages.

  Cort leaned close to her. “Stay here. If they try to get away, wait until they’re in the van, then shoot the tires. But don’t leave the cover of the forest.”

  “Don’t be crazy,” she whispered heatedly. “You can’t go out there alone. It’s four against one.”

  In the blackness of the night, with only the moon to light his face, she saw him smile. His eyes glinted with the knowing confidence of a born predator. “Even odds,” he said, and he disappeared behind the van.

  Faith shifted until she was sitting on the ground. The dirt was still warm from the heat of the day, and although she was scared, her nerves were finally settling down. Cort could handle it, she told herself, hoping her belief made it true. He had four guards of his own out there. He would simply call and tell them that—

  She rose to her knees. He couldn’t call for help; he’d given the wounded man his walkie-talkie. She started to stand, then remembered he’d told her to stay put.

  “Now what?” she muttered, torn by indecision.

  Then she recalled something that made the fear return. Her stomach clenched tight and her palms grew damp. After dinner, she’d never bothered to chain Sparky. He was loose in the building, and armed men were about to invade his territory.

  Chapter 16

  Cort stepped across the narrow road, then slipped behind the van and into the forest. For a split second he wondered if he should have brought Faith along with him. She would have slowed him down, but he didn’t trust her to follow directions.

  Damn. He should have tied her up and left her locked in a closet in the main building while he had the chance. At least there he would know where she was. Concern weighed on him. She would follow instructions as long as it was convenient, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

  He paused by an old maple tree and faded into the shadows. Closing his eyes, he drew in a breath and pushed all thoughts of Faith from his mind. He couldn’t afford the distraction, not if they were both going to make it out of this situation alive. He concentrated on his prey, focusing until his hunter instincts hummed with readiness. He heard a low growl from one of the jaguars and began moving in that direction.

  When Cort was behind the last cage, he peered around it toward the main compound. He saw the stranger staring warily at the jaguars in their separate cages. He stood about three feet away, just inside the protective chain. The cats paced angrily, eyeing him, resenting the intrusion. But they hadn’t lashed out yet. Cort allowed himself a slight smile.

  He bent down. Never taking his eyes off the man, he felt for small rocks and clumps of dirt on the ground. When he had a handful, he moved behind the cage, slipping silently, until he was between the two wild cats’ cages. He tossed two pebbles at the metal base of the cage. They made a small pinging sound.

  As Cort stepped back to fade into the darkness of the forest, he saw the other man lean toward the sound. One of the jaguars came to investigate the noise, the other stayed at the front of the cage.

  Come on, Cort mouthed silently. Just a little closer.

  *

  Thomas stopped in front of the main building and motioned for his two men to wait. He listened, but there was only the quiet restlessness of the cats.

  So far the mission was progressing well. They’d taken out a total of six guards. Two had been shot, another four tied up. If only he knew how many were left. So far there’d been no sign of the woman. He could only pray the cubs were still here.

  He stepped forward; the two men with him followed close behind. No lights shone out from the building. Thomas gripped his pistol tighter. His assistants carried rifles, but he preferred a smaller weapon. Tucked in his jacket pocket were two bottles of tranquilizer and a needle. The cubs had been difficult to handle when he’d tried to smuggle them into the country.

  “Stay here,” he said softly to one of the men. “Don’t let anyone in.”

  The man took up position beside the door. Thomas reached for the knob and pulled. The door opened slowly. He motioned for the second man to go in first, then followed him into the building. His heart was pounding with excitement and fear. He couldn’t afford to fail.

  As he stepped into the foyer, the glow from the lights out front illuminated the shabby furniture and part of the hallway. He knew the room the cubs had been in before. He turned and headed in that direction. He paused and sniffed. Mint? He inhaled again. What the hell.?

  *

  Cort held his breath as the man stepped closer to the cages. He willed the jaguars not to lash out at their prey, but to let him get close enough to step between the cages. He tossed another rock and it bounced off the cage.

  The jaguar closest to him growled low in its throat. Cort ignored the cat and watched the man. A rifle gleamed in the faint moonlight. Cort didn’t want any of the cats getting hurt. He lifted his pistol and took aim. He would rather take prisoners, but if that wasn’t an option, he would kill him before risking the jaguars, or any of the cats.

  When he had the stranger in his sights, Cort stepped back and deliberately snapped a twig. The man started at the sound, then took the last step that put him in between the two cages. Cort ducked down, raced toward the cage and banged into it hard. The jaguar by him roared and lashed out with a huge paw. Cort rolled out of the way and came up on his feet.

  The second cat reached through the front of the cage and caught the man’s arm with a swipe of its paw. The man screamed and dropped his rifle. It slipped between the bars and into one of the cages. The stranger clutched his arm and ran toward the rear of the cages. The jaguar by Cort snarled, stuck its paw out of the corner and clawed at the air. The man froze. He spun, but there was no escape. A large cat waited at each end of the narrow corridor. He moaned softly, then sank to his knees. Cort turned and jogged toward the main building.

  *

  Faith stopped in her tracks when she heard a man scream. Please, God, let Cort be all right. Her stomach lurched. She listened again, but there was only the sound of the cats pacing restlessly. One of the jaguars howled its frustration.


  Faith wasn’t sure which way to go. She would never catch up to Cort in the undergrowth. The moon provided some light, but not enough. Outdoor lamps illuminated the front of the building, but little of their glow spilled into the back. She peered into the darkness and bit her lip. She had to make up her mind; she couldn’t just stand here forever.

  She clutched her pistol tighter in her hand and turned toward the main building. Keeping close to the ground, she circled in front of the bushes, ducked behind the van and came out fifty feet from the man on guard. She moved slowly, cautiously, never taking her eyes from his dark form. He paced restlessly, like one of the cats; but unlike them, he was afraid. She could smell his fear. It made her feel better. When she was twenty feet away, she stepped up onto the porch. Her work boots scraped against the wood, and the man spun in her direction. She thrust her arms up in front of her, her pistol aimed.

  “Freeze,” she called. “And drop it.”

  The man stared at her as if he’d seen a ghost. Then he took a step toward her. “Lady, you’re going to hurt yourself.” He eased his rifle off his shoulder.

  “I’ll shoot,” she said, and in that second, wondered if she could. She started shaking. The gun in her hand wobbled slightly.

  “Come on,” he said, taking another step. “No one is going to hurt you.”

  “I mean it,” Faith said. She drew in a calming breath. He wasn’t giving her a choice.

  He started to raise the rifle, then he jerked his head and looked behind her. Faith resisted the instinct to turn around.

  “Drop it,” she said again.

  He ignored her. She took aim, held her breath and pulled the trigger.

  The gunshot echoed loudly in the compound. Several of the cats roared at the noise. Faith stared as the man slumped to the ground. His rifle went spinning on the porch. As she reached down to pick it up, someone grabbed her arm.

  She turned to fight, then drew in a gasp of relief when she recognized Cort.