Cindy Gerard - [Bodyguards 05]

by Under the Wire

  “Adam?”

  Minrada.

  He stilled when the sound of her voice whispered out of the darkness. And felt his first pulse beat of hope since they’d taken her away, when the touch of her fingers grazed the back of his hand.

  Outskirts of Ratnapura

  Green, green, and more green. Verdant. Fertile. Lush. Another time, Lily would have appreciated the beauty. The birdsong. The wild, tropical uniqueness of the countryside. Now she just wanted to get somewhere, anywhere, she had a chance of finding her son.

  The sun was gone now. The heat remained, forceful, unrelenting, saturated with the promise of a heavy night dew. With Manny still behind the wheel, silent and stoic, they’d covered the one hundred kilometers from the coastal region of Colombo to Ratnapura in what Lily suspected was record time.

  As soon as Dallas had concluded his gun deal and they’d been certain no one was following them, they’d lit out of town like bandits. It still hadn’t been fast enough for her even as the Suburban ate up the coastal highway, then veered east to the winding road that passed by the paddy fields cloaking the valley floor. As they climbed steadily higher in altitude, rubber tree forests interspersed with acres of tea bushes flourished on the hillsides and scented the air.

  Life—rich and vibrant—surrounded them. Yet all she felt was anxiety and frustration.

  She heard movement in the second seat, where Darcy and Ethan had been sleeping for the last hour or so. Dallas was sacked out farther back. Provisions and Dallas’s contraband weapons and ammunition were stowed in every available space inside the Suburban. More supplies were lashed to a carrier on the roof.

  There had been no sign of a white VW in the Suburban’s rearview mirror.

  “What are the candles about, do you suppose?” Darcy asked around a yawn as they passed several older houses in the small village of Kahangama.

  Lily glanced back to see Darcy stretching as she sat up. “Traditionalists light candles at dusk and leave them on the doorstep. They believe the candles keep evil spirits from entering their homes.”

  Lily turned back to the side window, searching the dark, always looking for a sign to lead her to her son. She wished that all it took was a lit candle to protect Adam. He could use some help warding off evil. And she could use some protein, Lily realized—something to counteract the fatigue leaning on her like a hundred pounds of lead. But she couldn’t make herself eat. Just the thought of food made her nauseous.

  She was exhausted, but anxiety over Adam kept the adrenaline at spike level and prevented sleep. From a physiological standpoint, she understood that adrenaline was pretty much all that kept her going. She wasn’t sure what gave Manny his stamina.

  Wearily she offered to drive.

  “I’m fine,” he said without so much as a glance her way.

  “Always were a stubborn SOB.” This from Ethan, who had also roused himself. “Pull over, Rambo. Catch a power nap. I’ll take a turn behind the wheel.”

  To her amazement, Manny pulled over. They all took the opportunity to get out of the Suburban and stretch—all but Dallas, who lifted his head, then laid it back down when Ethan uttered a quiet, “Chill, bro.”

  It was Ethan who caught Lily’s arm when she wobbled and almost went down. But it was Manny who stepped to her side and steered her toward the backseat.

  “Climb in the back with Darcy.” The gentleness in his tone surprised her and undercut the stern set of his mouth. “You need to sleep.”

  She would have argued, but Darcy was suddenly beside her, guiding her into the vehicle. “Adam’s going to need you rested. You won’t be any good to him if you drop over from exhaustion.”

  Lily actually managed a smile. “Okay, now I understand why you had a career in the diplomatic corps.”

  “Don’t even think about arguing with her.” Ethan settled in behind the wheel while Manny climbed into the passenger seat, slumped down low, and closed his eyes. “It’s a no-win situation.”

  “Why, thank you, Lieutenant.” Darcy smiled and made room for Lily to lie down on the seat beside her. “Next time we square off, I’ll remind you of that little concession. Save us both a lot of time and trouble.”

  Ethan grunted and shifted the Suburban into gear. “Fixed my own wagon with that one.”

  Easy. They were so easy with each other, Lily thought as she folded her hands beneath her cheek and closed her eyes. That was the way with love. She’d longed for that once. Longed for that gentle, flirty teasing. Those knowing looks. The ones that said there were no secrets—at least not from each other. The ones that said there were no lies.

  The closest she’d ever come to what Darcy and Ethan had was a summer a lifetime ago. With a man who now considered her a traitor.

  Manny had been a loving, playful young man when she’d known him then. He’d worn his heart on his sleeve, his emotions in his eyes. He’d been a warrior then, too—but his heart had been gentle.

  There was nothing gentle about him now.

  Not even his speech. She used to love his lushly romantic Spanish accent. Now even most of that was gone. Seventeen years in the United States had added a crispness to his enunciation and speech patterns. Seventeen years had added a deepness to his voice.

  Seventeen years. Lost.

  Like her son was lost. Like more hours were lost in her search to find him.

  Like she felt lost…until she felt the warm comfort of Darcy’s hand on her shoulder.

  It was a small gesture. A huge expression of understanding. One she’d craved in this hostile country amid all these quietly hostile men. One she welcomed.

  Against all odds she drifted off to sleep as a warm, wet tear trickled from the corner of her eye.

  CHAPTER 11

  On the road to Kandy

  “Be lucky if the sonofabitch doesn’t jam on the first round,” Ethan sputtered. Well-hidden in a copse of trees, he lifted the seen-better-days AK-47 to his shoulder and sighted down the barrel.

  It had been a bitch of a day. And this was the first chance they’d had to inspect the weapons and ammunition up close and personal.

  “Yeah, well, you can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your friendly neighborhood black-market weapons suppliers,” Manny heard Dallas say with a grunt. “Or the weapons he supplies. At least not all of them. Trust me these are better than the ancient AK-74s the bastard wanted to pass off as ‘superior quality.’”

  They were “pseudo” camping in a public campground, well back from the main contingent of campers, acting like tourists, playing down their presence, drawing as little attention as possible. And taking a little time to regroup and figure out where to go from here after a full day in Ratnapura.

  Arms crossed, knees locked, feet set wide, Manny stood back in the shadows as his friends examined the weapons Dallas had bargained for in Colombo. Manny had just come from the communal shower in the center of the campground. His hair was still wet. His shirt hung open and free of his cargo pants.

  The late-afternoon breeze felt fine against his exposed skin where it funneled in through the open placket of his shirt. It was the only thing that felt fine.

  He agreed with Ethan’s and Dallas’s assessment of the weapons. The rifles—funny how Soviet-made weaponry turned up in every war-torn country he’d ever been in—were functional at best. The handguns were a step up but still a far cry from the state-of-the-art firepower they’d had available when they’d staged Darcy’s rescue mission on Jolo three months ago. There they’d had contacts with the U.S. spec ops boys stationed in Manila, who’d gladly let them “borrow” an arsenal that would make a five-star general drop to his knees and weep with fucking joy. Here they had a back-alley deal—with back-alley quality—at Wall Street prices.

  Manny glanced toward the darkening sky. The morning had started off cool; it had been a brief respite for what had morphed into a scorcher of a day. They were at a higher altitude now. The night would cool down to tolerable.

  Right now, they were all
whipped. What sleep they’d gotten last night had been in the Suburban—if power naps could be called sleeping. The guys were okay. Manny was concerned about Darcy and Lily, though. Today in Ratnapura had been long and grueling, but they hadn’t wanted to attract any more attention than necessary by checking into a hotel tonight.

  The plan was to rest a few hours here tonight, then hit the road before first light. There’d be time for sleeping once they found Adam. In the meantime, each hour was a loss on so many counts. Not that they’d wasted any time. Today they’d spread out and split up into three groups: Ethan with Darcy; Dallas on his own, which he preferred; and Manny had taken Lily by default.

  It wasn’t that Manny wanted to be with her. Hell no. What choice had he had? She might not be safe on her own, and Dallas and Ethan clearly didn’t want to be saddled with her. Manny’s friends’ reaction to Lily was barely veiled disdain.

  He watched a painted stork swoop lazily across the sky, told himself he didn’t need to feel any guilt over the way they treated her. That both Ethan and Dallas were solid in the character judgment department and were forming their own conclusions.

  He lied.

  The guys were his friends. His brothers. They’d disliked Lily on general principle from the moment he’d told them about Adam. And they were taking their cues from Manny. At first he’d felt justified in their response. Lily deserved to be treated like a pariah. He was entitled to their anger on his behalf.

  But he could see how their cold shoulder affected her. It wounded. Yet she took it on the chin. The look in her eyes said, The hell with you.

  It was hard not to admire her for that, he admitted grudgingly. Or for her single-minded determination to find her son. She loved that boy. Would move mountains, rivers…hard-faced men to find him. And she was running on empty. But she didn’t complain. She had to be out of her mind with worry—but she didn’t boo-hoo and wail.

  Instead, she looked stoic and determined and so goddamn beautiful it made him ache.

  Bad.

  So, yeah. It was hard not to admire her—even though he didn’t want to. He wanted to keep feeding his anger—yet the sharp edge had dulled and doubt had set in. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe…

  Hell. He tipped his head back. Glared at the canopy of leaves shielding the setting sun, breathed deep of the forest loam and the distinct scent of tea leaves that filled the humid air. It royally pissed him off that the resentment wasn’t nearly as potent as it had been before she’d shown up after nearly two decades.

  And it ticked him off that they hadn’t made any major strides in finding Adam. They’d canvassed the city of some forty thousand all day. No clues. No leads. No ideas of where to go next.

  It wasn’t until a little over an hour ago, when they’d about decided the day would come up empty, that they’d finally gotten their first break.

  The Rest House was a colonial-style inn that sat on the top of the hill that dominated Ratnapura. The manager of the inn, the son of a gem dealer who owned the property, had seen Adam.

  “Yes, yes, American boy,” he said, pleased to help when Manny showed him Adam’s photo. “Tall. Like this?” He’d held his hand above his head—which wasn’t all that far, considering he barely reached five feet.

  When Lily had nodded, the innkeeper had hurried on, eager to assist. “He and a young lady, they come on the bus. A man and woman—the lady’s mother and father, from Colombo, I think—met the children here for dinner. They laughed much. I heard them mention Kirindi Ella Falls and the game preserve on the way to Kandy.”

  It wasn’t much more than they’d already known, but at least someone had seen Adam and his host family. Whether they made it to Kandy was still up for grabs, but it was a place to start tomorrow.

  Manny hadn’t wanted to be, but he’d been moved by the mixture of relief and renewed worry that crossed Lily’s face when she heard the news. Just like he didn’t want to be impressed now, as she marched past him and joined Ethan and Dallas by the cache of weapons.

  Manny stood at attention when she picked up a Browning Hi-Power P35, then proceeded to handle it like she toted the damn thing every day of her life.

  Jesus Christ, look at her.

  Life threw him few surprises these days, but, as she had since she’d reentered his life a few short days ago, Lily knocked the ground out from under him again when she grasped the semiautomatic handgun. She tested its weight with the familiarity of a seasoned shooter, then sighted down the barrel using a two-handed grip.

  The weapon looked big in her small hands, but not clumsy. She racked the side like a pro, said something to Ethan that Manny couldn’t hear, then with a nod pocketed a box of ammo and shoved the gun into the waistband of her khaki pants. And he felt an ache tighten and twist low in his groin.

  Dallas and Ethan exchanged a look that encompassed surprise and awe—as well as an unspoken, Make a note not to piss her off.

  No shit.

  Manny had many memories of Lily Campora. Most of them involved her naked in his bed. None of them were of a pistol-packing Amazon with a grim-reaper look on her face. A look that spoke volumes of both the strain and the unwavering resolve of a woman focused on one and only one thing: finding her son.

  Despite the way she’d expertly handled the gun, Manny had to ask. When she would have walked past him back to the Suburban, he stepped in front of her.

  “That’s a lot of firepower. You sure you’re up to handling it?”

  She looked dead ahead, avoiding his eyes. “I’d prefer a .45, but the 9mm will do. The action’s pretty much the same as my Springfield.”

  Manny blinked. “Your Springfield?”

  “Springfield Armory 1911. It’s a copy of the Colt semiautomatic that used to be the military’s service pistol—”

  “Whoa, whoa. I know what it is,” he said, cutting her off. “What I don’t know is what the hell are you doing with a Springfield?”

  Still avoiding eye contact, she rolled a shoulder. Dismissive, impatient. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  She was right about that. He didn’t want to know, either, he told himself. He knew everything about her that he needed to know. Nothing good would come of asking more.

  And yet, damn if he didn’t. “Like what?”

  She glanced at him then, like she questioned his motives for asking. Hell, so did he.

  In the end, she shrugged again. “I’ve been alone a long time.”

  The weariness in her tone suggested that “alone” hadn’t necessarily been part of her plan. He decided not to think about that.

  “I sometimes feel the need for protection. The Springfield provides it.”

  Her eyes held a hint of defiance. A full measure of resolve. And, though she would never admit it, a boatload of fatigue.

  She was a woman on the brink of collapse.

  “When was the last time you ate?” he growled, more upset with himself for caring than with her for not taking care of herself.

  “Not your concern.” She moved to walk past him.

  He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. And realized his mistake too late.

  He hadn’t intended to touch her. Had never intended to touch her again. He hadn’t wanted to resurrect, reconstruct, or in any way renew memories of what her warm flesh felt like beneath his hand. To be amazed by the satin softness of her skin. To imagine what it would feel like to sink into the giving, gloving warmth of her lush body again after all these years.

  He closed his eyes. Insane. He was in-fucking-sane.

  “Eat something,” he ordered, and let her go, his body practically humming from the electric rush. “Then get some rest. You aren’t going to be any good to yourself or your son if you don’t keep up your strength.”

  She turned with a sharp look, seemed about to say something, but abruptly walked away instead.

  The fact was, she hadn’t had to verbalize what was on her mind. She’d transmitted her message loud and clear with one look from those in
credible eyes: It wasn’t just her son’s life on the line here. It was his son’s life, as well.

  His son.

  Manny thought of the photograph Lily had given him. The one he now carried like a talisman. He’d memorized the boy’s face. Saw himself in it so clearly it made his throat ache. And he wondered, Does Adam even know my name?

  Manny hadn’t realized he’d clenched his jaw until it started to cramp. Slowly, he let off on the pressure while residual tension built and bred in his gut, coiling in on itself like a spring.

  He’d hated Lily Campora for half of his life. Had never wanted to see her again. And now her life was embroiled so intricately with his, it was as if those years had never existed.

  Except they had.

  He had a sixteen-year-old son whose existence said they had.

  And here he stood. His hand still tingling from touching her. Wanting to go after her. Wanting to ask…hell, a million questions. Why was she alone? Why wasn’t there a man in her life now? Manny was half-crazy wondering how many men there had been after that Nicaragua summer when she had been his.

  When she had been his.

  Manny looked south toward the distant peak of Mount Pidurutalagala, unaware that he’d clenched his jaw again until he felt it pop. She swore she hadn’t betrayed him. That she’d searched for him. That she’d been told he’d died in battle.

  He had no reason to believe her. And now, just because she insisted he was wrong, just because every time he looked at her his gut twisted and he wanted to bury himself deep inside of her, he questioned everything he thought he’d known about her. Questioned every motivation he’d ever owned that had been fueled by his hatred.

  “Dios,” he swore under his breath, and walked toward Dallas and Ethan to stake a claim on an AK-47 and the Czech CZ-52 he’d spotted in the mix.

  He was no better than that boy who had been seduced by an older woman with eyes that cried and a body that had made him weep. Even now, his cock reacted to the sight of her. To the memory of her. To the reality that Lily was no longer a raw, gut-wrenching part of his past.