He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. She met his gaze easily, and held it.
He’d never felt so evenly matched. He’d never even thought it possible.
And his match was Seve Delgado’s daughter. What in the hell was he doing?
“I think maybe we should head back to the cantina,” she said, her voice still rough with need. He heard the tremors, felt them.
He stepped back while he could, breaking contact. It felt wrong. “Yeah, maybe we should.”
In silence, Diego dismantled her targets while she took care of her rifle and packed it. They both stored the gear on the bike, but neither of them climbed on. Wrapping his body around her was a bad idea, but something he wanted desperately.
He never wanted anything. Desperately or otherwise.
But it was climb on or walk to the cantina. And he could hardly do his job on foot out in the desert.
“After you,” he said.
She turned to him. “Have you ever driven one?”
“Not like this one, but yes.”
“Have a license?”
“Yes.”
She held out the key. “You wanna?”
Oh, yes I do, Blue Delgado. I wanna. A lot.
Even as he took the keys he knew it meant feeling her wrapped around him. Exquisite torture. He told himself that being the driver gave him more control over any potential threat. But the only threat he felt at that moment was her long leg sliding over the seat behind him and her long elegant fingers pressing into his waist.
They were halfway down Red Rock when Diego finally loosened up enough to enjoy the ride and the bike. The woman behind him was another matter entirely.
She tightened her thighs against his as he wove through the narrow passageway, out of the boulder field and into the bright, wide-open desert.
Diego brought the bike to a stop, balancing the heavy machine between his thighs. He flipped up his visor and turned back. “Your turn.”
“You can keep on.”
“I didn’t really follow the track out here.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. He hadn’t wasted time memorizing her route. He knew where they were and where the highway was and several points where John would be in between.
She looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay.” She used his shoulder for balance as she climbed off. Between her hand and the feel of her leg rubbing across his backside, he wasn’t sure he could handle her sliding back on in front of him and still be responsible for his actions.
He purposely leaned back and scanned the horizon. Nothing. Still, his instincts had made him stop. Blue could handle the bike as well as he could. Better for him to be behind her, shielding her, protecting her.
He held her hips in a loose but firm grip, keeping the space between them minimal. His reaction was too strong, not to mention highly unprofessional. By kissing her up on the mesa, he’d broken not only a personal code, but a professional one as well. Many men in his line of work relaxed those rules. But not Diego.
Not any of Del’s team.
And sure as hell not with Del’s daughter.
She flipped the starter, then gunned the engine. The bike roared back to life. Diego kept a close scrutiny on his surroundings as she whipped them across the sands. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it.
That his instincts were still functioning did little to relieve him. It wasn’t too late, but he had to back off. Now. Focus on keeping her safe.
Not keeping her.
Blue pointed to a truck cutting across the desert, off the track, flying hell-bent for leather. Straight for them.
Diego recognized it immediately. McShane’s 4×4. Adrenaline shot into his bloodstream like a needle in a vein. He quickly scanned the horizon. Nothing.
He lifted his visor and yelled to Blue. “Head for the truck.”
“More friends of yours?” she shouted back.
He didn’t answer, just flipped his visor down and moved his body closer to hers, his fingers tightening on her hips. He could feel her thighs tense between his knees and knew she felt his anxiety. He continued to look for whatever had sent McShane out of hiding. It had to be Jacounda. But where?
He felt her hunker down and gun it. Good instincts, Blue.
Suddenly McShane changed direction, heading diagonally to their right. Diego immediately looked behind the truck, but as the dust trails settled he saw nothing behind John. Still, the move had been both a defensive maneuver and a signal not to head directly for the truck. But where?
He leaned forward again, yelling over the whine of the engine. “Forget the truck. Take the most direct route to the highway.”
To his relief, and to her credit, she didn’t ask questions, just angled the bike in a smooth arc toward the highway. The questions, he knew, would come later.
He’d worry about them then. Now he had to get her off the sand and tucked away.
The bang that suddenly echoed behind them was loud enough to jerk Blue. The bike wavered a bit but she didn’t lose control. “Just keep on. Go, go, go,” Diego shouted.
Blue did as he asked. Diego turned back, braced for what he suspected had happened. He let out a silent sigh of relief, even as he mentally swore. The 4×4 wasn’t a ball of flames, but it had been rendered immobile. They were too far away for him to see exactly what had happened. But the smoke and flames shooting out from under the hood and the lopsided tilt to the frame gave him a pretty good idea.
McShane was too good an agent to allow a bomb to be planted anywhere on his vehicle. Which meant Jacounda’s men were out here. In the desert.
“What in the hell is going on, Santerra?” she yelled. Her entire body was like a live wire between his thighs.
“Open it up, Blue. Get us on that highway. Then head for Tiny’s.” He needed his Jeep. His radio.
“What happened back there?” She hadn’t turned around to look. “Tell me.”
If the situation wasn’t so critical, he’d have smiled. Still the boss.
Not out here. And he was no longer just the cook. “Not sure. Just don’t slow down until I tell you to.”
She turned her head, but her helmet kept her from looking at him. “Why should I listen to you?”
The bike suddenly jerked hard to the right. What the hell? If he hadn’t been locked to her, he might have lost his balance, possibly causing her to lose control of the bike. Had she done it on purpose?
She kept their balance and he quickly realized what had happened. They’d hit a rock or something. Another flat tire.
“Keep going,” he shouted.
“My frame will be shot,” she hollered back.
“Just do it.” Diego’s mind raced. He knew the sand would cushion the deflating tire somewhat, but it was already slowing them down. The asphalt highway would shred it. He could only hope there would be someone on the road. Commandeering a civilian vehicle was the least of his worries right now. He saw the black strip of highway, barely five hundred yards ahead.
Just then he felt a hot sting streak across his left thigh. He glanced down and saw the graze mark on his jeans. The next shot hit him in the left shoulder, taking him sideways off the bike.
He hit the sand in a roll, rocks and debris cutting at him.
He tumbled to a stop and immediately pushed up on his good arm to look for Blue.
He located her almost immediately. Just in time to see a dusty red pickup swerve off the highway directly in front of her. She slid the bike on its side.
Her name locked in his throat.
Two men jumped out of the back and hauled the bike off her. Her struggle as they hauled her into the cab of the truck was the only indication that she was okay.
Then they drove off with her.
SEVEN
Blue sat as still as possible. Her back was bruised and sore from bouncing against the metal truck bed. Her wrists were raw from the wet bandanna binding them together. At least she had on boots, so her ankles hadn’t suffered the same abrasions. Her jaw ached from the
other bandanna, wedged back into her molars and tied around her head. Her eyes remained disturbingly uncovered.
Seeing one’s abductors was not supposed to be a good thing. She’d scrutinized a half-dozen of them so far. Not one of them looked familiar. And other than Leroy’s dire warning, she had no idea why she’d been taken. Of course, that Leroy’s warning was apparently well-founded did nothing to console her now.
She glared steadily at the door. Not that she could see the door, only the dim glow that crept in the crack at the bottom. Her abductors hadn’t bothered her in hours. Or what felt like hours. As far as she could tell, there were no windows in the room and no furniture either. They’d shoved her roughly into one corner, ordered her to sit, told her not to move, then left her in the dark.
She’d spent most of her time in the corner going over what had happened second by second. Gooseflesh crawled over her skin. She swore under her breath. She couldn’t even rub her own arms for comfort.
She held on to her anger by a thread. It was either that or give in to the hysteria that was lodged in a thick ball at the base of her throat.
Diego was the one who had put her back in front as the driver. Diego was the one who said he recognized the truck. Diego had ordered her to head for the highway. And her abductors.
Most damning of all, Diego had bailed off the bike, leaving her to face her fate alone. Apparently his job had been completed.
Killer or mere accomplice, he was guilty in her book.
And she’d let the bastard kiss her! The absolute worst part of all was that she’d enjoyed it. Would have pushed further if he hadn’t stopped them. And she knew he’d been completely aware of that. She’d thought he was dancing on that same fine edge as well. His control and his calm words had made her feel secure. False security.
It wasn’t about control and caring. He’d had an appointment to keep!
She had no idea what was going to happen to her, but she knew she should be formulating some sort of plan. She had to get out of here alive. If only to hunt down her son-of-a-bitching cook and kill him. Right after she fired him.
The door suddenly burst open. She squinted against the bright light just as a blinding flash went off mere feet from her eyes. A camera?
Then hands came out of the darkness and grabbed the back of her head. She immediately began to fight.
“Sit still!” The voice was deep and unrecognizable.
The bandanna dropped away from her mouth and pain rushed in as she carefully tried to work her jaw. Then someone jerked her face around, straining her neck, until she was staring into a pair of tiny black eyes set in a wide, smooth face.
He shoved a small recorder to her mouth. “State your name.”
She blinked at him, pain still vibrating through her face.
“Your full name. Say it!”
The command somehow snapped her back into focus. No more blindly following commands. “Why?”
His fingers tightened cruelly on her jaw. She winced involuntarily.
“Say it, or I make you say it.”
Blue debated the merits of pushing the big man. “Blue.”
“Full name.”
“Delgado.”
He shoved her face away, the force snapping her head back against the wall. She glared at the retreating hulk as the door slammed and she was once again in the dark. Another person on her hit list.
At least he’d left the bandanna off.
With a sigh that ended on a soft moan, she gently leaned her bruised head back against the wall. It was time to find a way out of here. One thing she’d learned about herself during her divorce was that she was far from helpless.
She dug her heels in and scooted her bottom forward. Progress was slow. The hardwood floor made sliding easy, but moving more forward than backward was tough. Staying close to the wall, she crawled around the perimeter of the room, hoping to find something, anything, that might help her escape. She hadn’t encountered so much as an electrical cord.
She rounded the corner to the wall containing the door, making as little noise as possible. Just as she slid in front of the doorjamb, voices erupted on the other side.
“He’ll still testify. That picture won’t stop him. He hasn’t seen her in years.”
“We’ve got her saying her name on tape.”
Blue heard swearing accompanied by a brief thud of flesh hitting flesh.
“Hey!” It was the second voice.
“That could be anyone, you moron. I’m telling you, you could get her saying it on the six o’clock news and he’ll still testify.”
“Well, you’d better pray you’re wrong. Señor Jacounda is counting on her being his ticket out. Mr. Super Spy utters one word on the stand next week, and we’re dead.”
Blue’s mind was spinning. She had no idea what they were talking about.
A tiny scratching sound caught her attention. She squinted into the darkness but saw nothing. Mice?
Just then a circle popped out of the wall next to her. When moonlight flooded in, she realized it had come from a windowpane. A blacked-out window. She’d scooted around the entire room and the one and only window had been less than three feet away from her starting point.
A hand reached in and up, silently releasing the lock. Blue slid backward as far and fast as she dared go, pushing herself into the opposite corner. She had no idea who was coming in the room, but since she still had no idea who the bad guys were, it was impossible to determine who the good guys were either.
In fact, she’d have to say at the moment there were no good guys.
The moon shadowed the large shape of a man sliding noiselessly into the room. If her heart hadn’t been pounding so loudly, she might have been more impressed by his grace.
“Blue.”
His whisper was rough and low. She froze, but remained silent.
“It’s okay. I’m here to get you out.”
Yeah, right. Someone she didn’t know wanted her dead and now someone else she didn’t know wanted to rescue her. Who were these people?
“If you can’t talk, tap the floor lightly.” His voice was like velvet, just reaching her ears, like a caress.
“I don’t want to move any more than necessary or use any light. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll have you out of here.”
Well, getting out at the very least opened up more escape possibilities.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
In one rapid heartbeat, he knelt in front of her. “John McShane.”
“And why are you rescuing me, John McShane? Who do you work for?”
“A distant relative of Uncle Sam. Come on, we can do this later.” He shifted again. “How are you tied?”
Blue felt grudging gratitude for the man. He could have just manhandled her, and she’d had quite enough of that.
“My hands behind my back and my ankles. The bandannas are wet, so it will be hard to—”
She felt a slight pressure, then her hands were released. A second later the bonds fell away from her ankles.
“You must have been one helluva Boy Scout.”
“Not in this lifetime.” She heard the grin in his voice. “But knives do come in handy.”
Blue stiffened. Images of Leroy flashed through her mind. “Knife?”
“Yeah. Don’t normally use them. I’m holding on to this one for a friend,” McShane went on, talking over her sudden anxiety. “Can you stand?” He rose before her. “Give me your hand. Just don’t make any sound.”
Blue again gave silent thanks for his consideration in not grabbing at her to help her up. She felt brutalized and fragile and didn’t like either feeling the least bit. He was handing her back her freedom along with a sense of control. She liked John McShane.
She just hoped he hadn’t been sent there to kill her.
“Here.” She raised both hands and instantly felt his slide across hers. His touch was cool and impersonal.
“Let’s move.”
Her shoulders
and legs screamed in protest. She had to bite down on her lower lip to keep from groaning, but less than a minute later they were out of the window and crouched on the ground. John’s voice just reached her ear. “There are dogs and guards. Stay low and follow me. If I stop, you stop. When I move, you move. The Jeep is in front of us at about two o’clock. When we get there, climb in and stay down.”
Only one person she knew drove a Jeep. Diego. And then there was the knife. John had said he was holding it for a friend. She thought of the empty sheath on Diego’s waistband. Had these two been involved in what had happened to Leroy? And if they had, how were they involved with the men inside this house?
Her mind spinning, Blue didn’t move when McShane did. He backed up and she heard a sharp, “Now.”
She did know that she couldn’t stay there. At least in the Jeep she had a fighting chance. She moved.
They reached the dark green truck without incident. He pushed her inside and down, leaving her little time to examine the vehicle. But she was fairly certain it was Diego’s.
“Stay as low as you can.”
Blue squatted half on the seat, half on the floor.
McShane started the Jeep, kept the lights off, and moved forward at a slow pace. Blue wanted to scream at him to floor it, but he’d gotten them this far, so she kept her mouth shut.
Between her pounding heart and wired nervous system, it was all Blue could do to focus her thoughts. Who was John McShane? He’d said he worked for a distant relative of Uncle Sam. An agent for some spook organization maybe? She would have laughed at her men’s-adventure-novel-like thinking, but she was afraid she might actually be right. And how did he tie in to Diego?
She tried to remember what the men in the house had been saying, but McShane’s surprise entrance had pushed the conversation completely out of her mind.
“You can get up now.”
Blue lifted her head. It was pitch-dark, the moon high. She figured at least midnight or shortly after. She carefully pulled herself onto the seat, biting her lip to keep from making any sound. With the adrenaline rush subsiding, her ankles, arms, and shoulders ached from her hours spent in restraints. Out of habit, she pulled the seat belt across her chest. A short laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
Santerra's Sin: A Loveswept Classic Romance Page 9
