Mercenary’s Promise

by Sharron McClellan

  She didn’t care. He could bitch and rant, but her mind was made up. “What does it look like?”

  “You’re not going.”

  Bethany looked up at him; the anger in his gaze was undeniable. She jerked away. “You’ll need someone on your side down there, and right now, I’m it.”

  “I have Eva.”

  “You can’t be sure of that,” she clarified, not caring if the insinuation pissed him off. She wasn’t too happy with this idea. Let him feel her anger, for once.

  Xavier glared at her. “In case you didn’t notice, there aren’t many women there. You’ll be noticed.”

  “There are enough.” She buttoned the jacket all the way to her throat to cover her femininity. It smelled like sour sweat. “This helps.”

  “You stand out.”

  “It’s dusk,” she said, tossing his argument back at him.

  “Not dusk enough.”

  He gazed at her, making her squirm under the scrutiny.

  Bethany rested her head in her hands. She was tired of arguing and he might be angry with her, but she needed to make him see that Eva was FARC despite what she’d suggested earlier.

  “You want me to stay behind? Then don’t go.” She raised her face to his. His expression was as unmoved. “You can see she’s made her choice. Let’s leave before another solider finds us.”

  He stared down at her, his mouth as solid and stern as stone. “I won’t leave her here, alone, until I get the full story. From her.”

  Bethany sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, she’d do the same thing if their positions were switched. “Let’s move out and get this over with.”

  His stony expression softened, and Xavier turned away.

  Bethany waited. They both knew she wasn’t a liability, but she sure as hell wasn’t an asset. He didn’t need her. Not for this.

  But they also both knew that she wasn’t going to remain behind. Not now.

  And if she had her way, not ever.

  Chapter 13

  This is the worst idea ever. Or the best.

  Bethany couldn’t decide which as she followed Xavier, avoiding patrols and looking for a place to enter the camp with minimal issues.

  Either way, his plan to walk in, acting as if they belonged, was audacious as hell. She hoped it was unconventional enough to work.

  “Down,” Xavier whispered. She ducked, and a minute later, a FARC soldier strode past them, unaware they lurked in the foliage just off the trail.

  Still, a prickle of fear ran a hurried course up her spine.

  Xavier tapped the top of her hand, held up one finger and pointed to the camp.

  One minute and they were going in.

  She gave a tight nod, eager to end the expedition. She glanced upward while time ticked in her head. It wasn’t dark yet, but already a few stars decorated the purpling sky. She turned back toward the camp to listen for the sound of the game.

  She caught laughter. Chatter. But it was too indistinct to know the source. Were they too late? If so, they’d have to wait until tomorrow and she couldn’t see Xavier doing that. Nor could they go door-to-door and knock.

  Xavier tapped her again. No more speculation.

  Bethany swallowed hard. She thought crossing the gorge had been difficult. Sure, it scared the hell out of her, but it was predictable. Gravity pulled you down. Rock was harder than bone.

  For every action there was an equal and opposite reaction.

  All the laws of physics in one happy, logical bundle.

  But people followed no such rules. They made decisions based on emotion, desire or need. Decisions like hers. Like Xavier’s.

  Damn, they were screwed if they were caught.

  Screwed or not, she wasn’t going to let Xavier down. Not again. She was going to prove to him that he could count on her. Stepping through the fronds and moss, she followed Xavier into the compound between two of the huts covered with camouflage netting.

  Once again, goose bumps shivered up her spine. But no one called them out. There was no gun fire. No shout of alarm.

  Success. So far. “Well, we’re here. How do you plan to get to Eva?”

  “Keep your head down. Walk fast. Follow my lead.” Xavier checked his weapon. He didn’t look angry. He looked worried.

  But he also looked determined as hell.

  “That’s it?” It didn’t sound like much of a plan and determination was little comfort when she thought about walking through a FARC encampment. “What do I do if someone speaks to me?”

  He shrugged. “Say, ‘no sé.’”

  “No sé.” She muttered the phrase under her breath. “No sé. What does it mean?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll sound like an idiot.”

  He stared into her until she fidgeted under his gaze.

  “Fine.” She checked the hat to make sure her hair was tucked tight to give her as androgynous an appearance as possible then smudged her face with dirt. She wasn’t fair-skinned and might be able to pass for Latina, but there was no point in taking chances. “Ready,” she said.

  “Just stay close.”

  “Sí, ese,” she said, imitating Sebastian.

  Xavier’s mouth curled up a notch at the corners, and she smiled in return. Damn, it felt good to see him look at her like that. As if she hadn’t betrayed him. As if he cared for her.

  His eyes darkened. His smile died.

  Moment over.

  “Let’s go.” He moved forward, one hand on the butt of his gun.

  Keeping her gaze on the ground, she matched her step with Xavier’s, wondering what his sister would do when they confronted her. They were close once, but would that bond hold? Or would she turn them in?

  Bethany’s grip on the weapon at her side tightened. Heads down, they hurried down the middle of the camp, reaching the far end just in time to see the game breaking up and people dispersing. The players laughed, slapping each other and from their tone, bragging.

  The clank of a bell sounded through the evening air. Bethany jumped. What was that about? She looked up at Xavier.

  “I think it was the dinner bell. Move it.”

  With the crowd ahead of them, they dogged Eva as she headed toward one of the many scrap-wood shacks that made up the border of the camp.

  “Follow me,” Xavier whispered.

  Bethany hurried after him, her heart racing. The sound of arguing caught her attention. She looked over her shoulder—hostages came in from the fields under escort, haggard and filthy beneath the rags they used as clothes—and she ran into a soldier.

  The FARC soldier wasn’t tall, but he was solid. His black hair clipped short and his skin tanned. He wore a green flight jacket with “Smith” embroidered on the pocket and an American flag on the other side.

  She felt the blood drain from her face. She and Xavier were dead. She was sure of it. And it was her fault.

  Smith glared at her. For a moment, there was no sound but that of her blood pumping in her ears.

  He snapped a phrase at her.

  She stared. Frozen.

  “Ella lo siente,” Xavier said, and then he grabbed her hand, pulling her around him and in Eva’s direction. “Prisa”

  The soldier put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her, and asked her something in Spanish.

  “No sé,” Bethany whispered.

  Smith’s brows shot up.

  Bethany kept her lips pressed together to keep from babbling and she looked at Xavier.

  Without hesitation he pushed himself between her and Smith and started talking. Smith glared, but Xavier stared him down, speaking fast. Despite Xavier’s explaining, the doubt in Smith’s eyes didn’t fade. He wasn’t buying what story Xavier was spinning.

  Bethany looked around, searching for an escape. They might be able to run for it. Most of the people were headed toward the dining tent and the soldiers with the hostages seemed preoccupied.

  Xavier said something else, and Smith grabbed Bet
hany’s arm, getting her attention. In those seconds of assessing the area, the soldier’s expression transformed from suspicion to something new.

  She looked to Xavier. Follow my lead, he mouthed.

  Trusting him, she nodded.

  With her in tow and Xavier following, Smith pulled her into one of the huts, and Bethany realized what it was Smith wanted.

  Her.

  Hell no.

  There was no time to think, to accuse or to wonder what Xavier planned when every part of her brain and body screamed for her to run.

  She jerked her arm out of Smith’s grasp, but he grabbed her shirt and pulled her back. In seconds, he shoved her up against the wall and pinned her arms over her head, grinning and talking to her in Spanish.

  Bethany bit her lip and closed her eyes.

  I trust you, Xavier.

  Seconds later, she was free. She opened her eyes. Xavier and Smith were on the ground, grappling. She watched the fight and it looked odd. Slow. Nothing like a Hollywood movie.

  But she felt like a Hollywood heroine as she stood, watching and wringing her hands.

  A quick glance around the room told her there was nothing to help her. Nothing big enough to use as a weapon.

  The men broke apart. Bethany kicked Smith in the head.

  He shook it off, but in those few seconds, Xavier was on his back, his arm around Smith’s neck in a choke hold. Fifteen seconds later, the soldier passed out.

  “Xavier?” Bethany dropped to her knees beside him. “Are you okay?”

  His arm still around Smith’s neck, he glanced at her, and she saw something unexpected in his eyes. Fear. “Look away,” he said. “Now.”

  Sitting up, he adjusted his hands around Smith’s neck.

  She knew what he was going to do. What he had to do.

  Bethany swallowed the bile that rose to her throat and did as Xavier asked.

  Minutes later, Xavier pulled her to him, his arms around her, his head pressed against hers.

  “I am so sorry,” he whispered.

  “It’s not your fault,” Bethany said, covering his arms with hers and holding on tight. There was no fault. No blame. They both did what had to be done.

  “It wasn’t my first choice,” Xavier stressed, his voice thick. “He wasn’t buying the story and the options were limited.”

  She nodded. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not,” Xavier argued. He pulled her closer. Squeezing her. “You should know that despite what’s happened between us, I would never put you in true danger. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

  She did. He wasn’t that kind of guy. “I know.”

  Still, his words echoed through her. Never put her in danger. Never let anyone hurt her. The vehemence behind the simple statement sounded like the Xavier before her betrayal. The way he held her felt almost like absolution.

  Time stilled and dragged as she waiting, praying that now he’d come back to her. Want her.

  Forgive her.

  Instead, he released her. “We should hurry. I want to catch Eva before she goes to dinner, and this body won’t remain hidden forever.”

  Bethany rubbed her arms as the heat in his eyes died, and she knew that regret and his apology were the only things he was going to offer.

  It wasn’t enough. Not by far. She wanted more.

  She wanted Xavier.

  Once, he thought he understood women. A little. Xavier caught the pained looked on Bethany’s face and realized he didn’t know a damn thing.

  She was still upset, but it didn’t seem to be about Smith. Though it should be. God knew, he was still shaken. Choking someone to death was as personal as killing got.

  He scrubbed his face with his hand as they, once again, headed toward Eva’s hut.

  Seeing that soldier on Bethany, trying to hurt her…

  He’d seen red. Hot, bright red that wiped out everything but the object of the rage. Only years of training and experience had kept him from screaming at Smith to get off his woman.

  He’d never enjoyed killing someone before. It was always part of the job. This time, he’d felt actual pleasure at the deed until he’d seen Bethany’s face.

  Her wide eyes. Her fear. Her horror when she realized what he was going to do.

  That had shaken him as much as seeing her in danger. And while he had to do what was needed, he didn’t want her to watch. If she had, neither would ever come back from it.

  She wasn’t his anymore, but still…

  Next, he’d be reading romance novels and drinking Chardonnay. He reclaimed his focus. He had bigger worries than Bethany’s emotional well-being. He had Eva.

  Had she really joined the enemy?

  Xavier dreaded the answer he sensed was coming but didn’t let it slow him. Instead, he increased his pace and in less than a minute, reached Eva’s hut. Xavier didn’t break stride but opened the door and went in.

  Eva sat on a cot, an M16 next to her. Her eyes widened at the intrusion, and in seconds, the M16 was in her hand and pointing at them.

  Xavier stopped. Hands out where Eva could see them.

  Eva looked the same. Long, smooth hair, warm brown eyes with an underlay of “don’t mess with me,” and the tattoo for Miguel on her wrist. Even the M16 in her hand fit the image of his memory since she’d fought at his side when they were both member’s of RADEC.

  But the fact she held a weapon pointed at him was new and disturbing.

  “Hello, little sister.” His attention was on the M16, hoping she’d put it down and prove him an idiot for ever thinking that she would betray him and their people.

  “What are you doing here, Xavier?” Eva asked, her gaze fixed on him. She didn’t lower the weapon. Not an inch. Not an iota.

  He shook his head. What had they done to her?

  For a heartbeat, Xavier didn’t know how to respond. There were no answers and a hundred questions circling through his head, all vying for attention and demanding an answer.

  “Why are you here?” Eva pushed.

  She wasn’t FARC, he told himself. They’d brainwashed her. It wouldn’t be the first time that a prisoner became a captor. When people were left with nothing, they made a family from the nearest group of people.

  Even when the people were the enemy.

  “I’ve come to take you home,” he replied, glad for once that Bethany couldn’t speak Spanish. It would make it easier to break her FARC indoctrination if he didn’t have to watch what he said.

  He took a step toward Eva. Her trigger finger didn’t tighten. A good sign. “Is that how you greet your brother?” he reminded, nodding at the weapon. “Is that how you greet family?”

  Eva flinched at the last word, and the gun in her hand wavered. He held his breath.

  Then her arm steadied.

  He stilled, trying not to show his disappointment.

  “No, but it’s how I greet her.” Eva shifted the muzzle, pointing it at Bethany, her voice low and dangerous. “Now answer me. What do you want?”

  Xavier stared at her. He’d hoped this would be easier. That his presence would be enough.

  He’d hoped wrong.

  “What is going on?” Bethany interrupted. Her eyes were glued to the M16.

  “We’re talking,” Xavier said, switching to English. “Just stay calm.”

  Eva laughed, but it was harder, harsher, than he remembered. “Where did you get the girl?” she prodded.

  “She is a friend.”

  “A girlfriend?” Eva guessed, one eyebrow arched.

  “Was.”

  “Was? Who screwed up? You or her?”

  For a flicker, Eva was the sister he remembered. The one that teased him about his dating habits.

  Perhaps she wasn’t as far gone as he thought.

  He glanced at Bethany. He could say that Bethany betrayed him but he suspected that Eva would take the news poorly. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it does. You came all this way.” Her eyes narrowed. “It was her, wasn�
��t it?”

  Yep, she was pissed. He’d called that right though it was a small comfort. “Let it go, Eva,” Xavier said.

  “Wow, she must have done something beyond stupid.”

  Even when they were acting nuts, little sisters were a pain. “I said, let it go.”

  Eva hesitated and he could almost see the wheels spinning in her head. Finally, she shrugged. “How did you find me?”

  He nodded toward Bethany. “Her sister. She told us you were here.”

  “She is FARC?”

  Xavier sighed. This conversation was already taking more time than he wanted. The other soldiers might discover the dead soldier at any moment. Once that happened, they’d start searching huts.

  They needed to move past the unimportant details and get down to what mattered.

  “I know that being held hostage can be confusing,” he suggested, keeping his voice low and ignoring her last question. “It’s easy to sympathize with your captors. To come to see them as your family.”

  Eva rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing like that.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” he asked reining in his growing irritation. People with Stockholm syndrome believed in what they said. He’d have to push harder. Challenge her.

  “Helping out,” she answered, flashing him a defiant look that he knew all too well.

  “Helping FARC?”

  Her dark brown eyes bored into his. “I take it you do not approve?”

  He stared back, wanting to scream, shout and shake sense into her. He controlled the urge. She was too old for bullying by her brother, and it wouldn’t help break FARC’s hold on her. In fact, it might make her dig in her heels.

  Truth seemed to be the easiest way to go. “They killed our brother. They broke up our family,” he countered. “Of course I don’t approve, and neither would the Eva I remember.”

  Eva stiffened. “This war killed our brother, and I plan to end it. That is why I am here. That is why I am helping FARC. And that is all you need to know.”

  “They brainwashed you,” Xavier stated, clenching his fists at his side. Why did she have to fight so hard? Be so stubborn?

  She shook her head. “They didn’t do this to me, Xavier. I’m not one of those weak people who succumb to their story because I have nothing else to hold on to.”