Enemy Mine

by Lindsay McKenna

  “I mean, I’m not the Terminator, for God’s sake!”

  “You have some advantages,” Mac said.

  She eyed him. “Like what?”

  “I’m telling you ahead of time. The other nannies didn’t have a clue. Further, if you pass those first two tests, I’ll make sure I’m the one flying you to that survival area. I’ll give you a Swiss Army knife and a compass so that you can make it back in one piece, alive.”

  “A Swiss Army knife against a jaguar?”

  “I know it’s not much, but it’s more than the others had.”

  She sat there in fear. A part of her wanted to scream, Turn this helo around and get me out of here. The other part said, No friggin’ way. I can do this. I can handle these situations. Keep your eye on the ball, Trayhern. Remember why you’re here. Stay the course.

  Getting a grip on her escalating feelings, her fear, she glared at Coulter.

  “I guess the question begs to be asked—why are you telling me this?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MAC STARED AT HER. He could sense something wasn’t right here. But what the hell was it? One moment, Katherine Lincoln was a docile young woman, the perfect nanny. The next, she looked like an honest-to-God hawk ready to attack him. It was in her eyes and her voice. Carefully, he said, “Look, the patrón’s little kid needs some stability in her life. I’d like to see you pass the tests.”

  Yeah, right. Kathy gazed into his shadowed gray eyes. He wasn’t telling the whole truth, she knew it. But he was a drug dealer, so what did she expect? Being undercover without training made her feel incredibly vulnerable. When she realized she was in military attack mode, her posture assertive, Kathy forced herself to sit back, prim and proper, her hands folded in her lap.

  “I see,” she said. Glancing at the altimeter, she realized they were at eleven thousand feet and still climbing. The helo labored upward in the thinning air, the chopping blades vibrating her entire body. Below them stretched brown, lifeless mountains. And straight ahead rose the mighty Andes, topped with snow—the awesome lords of the region. And highly dangerous to fly over, due to the sudden up-and downdrafts they caused. Where was Cuzco? Kathy wondered. The gray, flat ceiling of clouds had turned into white puffy ones scattered like sheeps’ fleece across the dark blue sky.

  “I mean…” Mac waved his hand “…Tiki really deserves to have a steady adult in her life. I like the little kid a lot. I just want to see her happy.” He glanced over at Katherine Lincoln’s wary expression. Tendrils of blond hair emphasized the clean lines of her face. She wore no makeup save for some pale pink gloss on her lips, which were a helluva lure to him. Her cheeks were naturally pink, that clear peaches-and-cream complexion that all women lusted after, he supposed.

  “I understand.” And she did. More than Coulter would ever realize. Her mind spun and churned with a hundred questions. “How much longer before we land?”

  “We’re an hour from our final destination.” He pointed out the cockpit window. “Cuzco is about fifteen minutes away. We have to climb to thirteen thousand feet and then turn and head down to Agua Caliente, which sits at half that elevation, in the jungle.”

  “Can you give me any more information on the first test, with those soldiers?”

  “They’re mercenaries. One is German, named Otto. Frank is from the French Foreign Legion—he’s Belgian. The third dude is North African. His name is Turban. At least that’s what they call him. I’m sure it’s not his real name.”

  “And are they skilled in karate?”

  “No. Just the hand-to-hand combat training you get in the military.”

  “And they’re big guys?”

  “Frank is small, built like a rat terrier, but he’s fast. Turban is two-hundred-and-fifty pounds and all muscle. The one you have to look out for is Otto. He fights dirty. He’ll do whatever it takes to win.”

  “And you say the last nanny managed to nail these dudes?” Kathy was skeptical.

  “Yes, she did.” He smiled slightly. “She was a karate expert, like you. She also had a black belt.”

  Kathy felt a tiny wave of relief. “Well, that’s hopeful.”

  “These guys are bar-room brawlers. They don’t play fair. They’ll pick up a handful of dust and throw it in your eyes if they can. I told you this would feel like science fiction.”

  “You did.”

  Mac took a breath. “If you want to pull out of this, they’ll give you the chance. Once you land at the estate, they’ll inform you of what tests you have to pass. The only thing they won’t mention is the jaguar. They never tell anyone about that.”

  “And previous nannies managed to survive the cat?”

  Mac nodded. “Yes.” Most applicants did not, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “The most important thing is that if the jaguar does show up, do not look him in the eyes, okay?”

  Frowning, Kathy asked, “Why not?”

  “Because jaguars freeze their prey that way. Peruvian medicine people down here will tell you that a jaguar has the ability to pull the spirit out of a person’s body, and when that happens, you can’t move. You’re paralyzed. And then the jaguar leaps on you and kills you. He doesn’t have to chase you because you’re frozen.”

  Rolling her eyes, Kathy said, “That is so far-fetched!”

  “But true,” Mac cautioned. “Please.” He lowered his voice. “Please believe me on this one thing. That cat can freeze its quarry. Animal or human, it doesn’t matter.”

  Flexing her fingers again, she stared down at them. “That’s if I pass the first two tests.”

  “I feel you will, Ms. Lincoln. You might look like a cream puff, but under that soft veneer, I think, is a woman warrior.” He smiled.

  Kathy didn’t want to feel the warmth of his smile, but she did. She saw crow’s-feet form at the corners of his eyes. She couldn’t see his eyes very well behind his sunglasses, but she didn’t need to. Unexpected heat raced through her. When this guy gave her that ten-thousand-megawatt smile, she felt like melting. That was a first! Kathy sternly reminded herself that he was a drug dealer. The scum of the earth.

  “I’ll survive,” she muttered defiantly, “however I have to.”

  Mac banked the Bell helicopter, and the first sight of the mighty Incan city of Cuzco came into view. He dropped the helo into the circular valley in the rolling mountains. “My money’s on you, Ms. Lincoln.”

  If she hadn’t been so worried about dying in the first test with the three goons, Kathy might have appreciated Cuzco. It had been built by the Incas, she knew—the cradle of their far-flung civilization, which had spread north to Ecuador and down south to Chile. Cuzco was where the emperor and empress had stayed.

  As the helicopter lost altitude, she saw many stone Catholic churches set in rectangular plazas, with three-to five-story stone buildings in between. The city was a growing metropolis, buzzing with cars, diesel-fueled buses, that left clouds of dark fumes in their wake, and swift-moving taxies weaving in and out of the other traffic. And yet, Cuzco was surrounded by brown, barren mountains. How did anything grow here? Kathy wondered.

  Uneasy because of the coming tests, she felt adrenaline leak into her bloodstream, making her antsy. As Coulter guided the helicopter to the south, through a narrow pass and into a much more verdant-looking valley, Kathy took a deep, ragged breath. Could she survive? Oh, how had she gotten herself into this mess? Why hadn’t she done more thorough research?

  The answer was obvious: Garcia would never reveal this information to the world. No, his tactics, like his drug dealing, were kept secret from the press and public.

  Gulping a couple of times, Kathy tried to steady her screaming nerves. Would she make it? Or was she going to die ignominiously here, without being able to kidnap Garcia’s child? It would be a shameful death, certainly not what she’d expected. Somehow, some way, she must prevail….

  KATHY SWALLOWED HER SHOCK when a tall, beautiful and stylish South American woman met her on the landing pad near the well
-hidden villa complex. Mac Coulter was at her side, his fingers cupping her elbow and guiding her toward the woman.

  “Welcome, Señorita Lincoln. I am Therese Osoro, your hostess. Welcome to the Pink Orchid Villa, which is owned by Patrón Garcia and his wife, Paloma.” The woman stepped forward, her black eyes shining with genuine warmth, her hand extended.

  Replying in Spanish, Kathy gripped the woman’s hand, which was surprisingly strong. Mac had warned her not to divulge any of their cockpit conversation to Garcia’s personal secretary.

  Therese released her hand. “Well! There is much to do, Señorita Lincoln. Señor Coulter, thank you for bringing her to us. Patrón Garcia has a flight that he needs undertaken immediately. My assistant in the office, Sarita, has the mission briefing for you.”

  Mac bit back his immediate reaction. He wanted to stay nearby as Katherine Lincoln went through the tests. Hiding his expression, because he knew Therese was more than just a loyal worker to Garcia, he said, “Of course. I’ll go up to the office and get the info.” He turned to Katherine, whose own expression was unreadable. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Lincoln.”

  “Likewise,” Kathy said. She kept her voice purposefully cool.

  “Come with me. You must be hungry. Some tea, perhaps? Let us go to my office and I’ll fill you in on some information, Señorita Lincoln.”

  Yeah, right. Information, hell. Therese was going to set her up for the tests. When Coulter turned and sauntered toward the first large green stucco villa, she panicked inside. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Mac Coulter represented stability, a friend in an enemy land. Her heart pounding with fear, Kathy wrestled with the panic deep inside her.

  Without a word, she followed the assistant down a concrete walk to a smaller building that was attached to the first one by an enclosed walkway. If she hadn’t been so scared, she’d have scanned the compound closely. As it was, she saw a few soldiers in military garb here and there, heavily armed, walking the perimeter of the ten-foot-tall stucco wall that surrounded the massive estate. There was nowhere to run. No way to escape. She was committed more than ever now. With her life…

  “ARE YOU READY, señorita?” Therese called. She stood at one end of the huge gymnasium with its spotless, waxed pine floor. The building housed an Olympic-size swimming pool and a full-size basketball court.

  Kathy wore gray sweatpants, tennis shoes and a light gray tank top, perfect attire for the ordeal ahead. Throughout lunch at Therese’s office, the woman had talked about the trials that Kathy had to undertake. In her husky voice, the assistant had asked if Kathy was willing to be tested. She’d assured her that, if she didn’t want to, she would immediately be flown back to Lima and put on a flight home to Canada. Kathy had said in a strained tone that she’d try to pass the tests. Therese seemed relieved and very pleased with her decision, praising her courage.

  As she stood on the thin tumbling pads spread across the gym floor, Kathy waited to see the three goons, whom she was sure would arrive any minute now. It was nearly 1400, and the humidity outside was heavy. Fortunately, the gym was air-conditioned, and the coolness revived her somewhat. But it didn’t stop her from sweating.

  Kathy grimly noticed the video cameras at all four corners of the gym, no doubt videotaping her test. She wondered if Garcia would be watching. This thought made her sharpen her resolve. She took that anger and fed it through herself. It wiped out some but not all of the fear clattering through her body like a runaway freight train.

  Kathy didn’t have long to wait. Therese, who stood at the door to watch, had warned her the men would be armed and would come at her all at once. This, she told her, would be to simulate a kidnapping attack. Kathy must be ready to defend Garcia’s daughter, Tiki, with her life. Yeah, right. Therese left out the fact that her boss was a drug lord and that other powermongers would love to take him down and kill his family, to become kingpins in his place. Swallowing hard, Kathy saw the three men enter and walk past Therese, whom they acknowledged with deferential nods. And then their gazes swung to her.

  Steeling herself, Kathy silently thanked Coulter for the information he’d shared. He’d described them flawlessly. The German, Otto, was a pale milky man, whose shaved head shone like a cue ball. His blue eyes narrowed upon her. Frank, the Belgian, grinned at her, revealing that his front three teeth were missing. Her attention swung to the last one, Turban, whose ebony skin glistened with perspiration. His head was shaved also and his beady chocolate eyes were set close together.

  Otto and Turban had bands of ammunition draped across their massive chests. All had weapons in their hands, AK-47s, the snub noses aimed at her. And all had knives in their belts or strapped to their lower legs. Her skin crawling with terror, Kathy crouched and took a steadying breath, feet slightly apart for balance.

  Once they reached the mats, fifty feet away from her, they attacked. Fanning out, they came toward her from three different directions. Kathy had no time to think, only to react. Otto raised his rifle butt to club her. She instantly lashed out with her right foot and caught the German squarely in the chest. The powerful impact jarred her, but she kept her balance.

  “Oomph!”

  Otto went down, the rifle he carried flying into the air. Kathy caught it and spun around as Frank charged her. She saw the surprise in his eyes when she swung the rifle, smashing the stock against his upraised hands, which held his own weapon. Then she balled up her right fist and slammed it into his face. Pain from the punishing crunch ran all the way up her arm to her shoulder, but Frank went down, unconscious, his weapon hurtling to the floor.

  Kathy had no time to notice how her knuckles burned. Instantly, she felt the air exploding inches from her head. Turban had raised his weapon and brought it down, thinking to catch her from behind and split her skull open.

  Breathing hard, she leaped away. The rifle smashed into the mat at her feet. Frank and Otto were still down, so she had to contend with Turban, who was grinning and showing his yellow teeth. Crouching again, Kathy let him come at her. This time he jabbed his rifle toward her chest. Deftly moving to one side, like a fencer parrying a blade, Kathy went for the man’s eyes. In seconds, she was jabbing his eye sockets with her fingers.

  With a roar of pain and surprise, Turban jerked back, dropping the AK-47. His hands covering his eyes, he peddled backward, off balance, arms flailing like a windmill. His screams filled the hall.

  Whipping around to her right, Kathy saw Otto start to get to his hands and knees. Mouth open and breathing hard, Kathy attacked him. The toe of her tennis shoe caught him beneath the jaw, and she heard a terrible crunching sound. She’d broken it. Otto cried out and slumped unconscious to the mat.

  Turning, she eyed Frank. He was still flat on his back, and groaning.

  “Enough!” Therese trilled. “You have won this contest, Señorita Lincoln! Congratulations! Come, you must leave for the shooting range.” The woman hovered by the door and waved for Kathy to join her.

  Stepping past the three goons, Kathy felt no exhilaration, only relief that she’d been able to disarm them. Her right hand hurt and she looked down at it. Her knuckles were bruised and turning a bluish-purple color. She was sure she’d broken a vein, but pumped up with adrenaline as she was, she felt little pain. After hurrying by the soldiers, Kathy jogged to Therese’s side. As they walked out the door, the hot, humid air hit her like a hand slap. Kathy brushed back her hair from her face and saw a tough-looking hombre in military fatigues standing near a dark green jeep.

  “You will now go with Capitán Jules Quintana. He will oversee your shooting test, and the knife fight with Renaldo afterward.” Therese clapped Kathy on her shoulder. “I have never seen anyone take down those three soldiers so fast. You are truly a prize, señorita. Good luck on test two. I will be awaiting your triumphant return to my office. Adios.”

  Kathy nodded and said nothing. She wasn’t feeling as positive as Therese was. Gazing into the captain’s dark eyes, she realized with horror tha
t they were a killer’s eyes. The fact made her blood run cold.

  “Climb in, señorita.”

  As Kathy slid into the frayed canvas passenger seat of the jeep, she looked over at the helicopter landing pad. At some point, Coulter had lifted off, and she hadn’t even heard the noise. As the captain drove through the main gates of the estate, Kathy gripped her hands together in her lap, feeling terribly alone without Coulter’s protective presence. Could she survive the next test?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WAS KATHERINE LINCOLN dead or alive at this point? After landing back at the villa, Mac tried to appear his easygoing, nonchalant self as he disembarked from the Bell helicopter. Garcia had had him run an errand into Cuzco—pick up a passenger who Mac knew was part of the Colombian drug cartel, and bring him here. Mac had been gone two hours and was champing at the bit to return.

  Was it the nanny’s lush curves making him react like this? Mac couldn’t recall a woman ever impacting him like this with her essence, her spirit. Never had one interrupted his mission focus, either. Not until now. Damn, what was he going to do? What was it about Katherine Lincoln that was dismantling him minute by minute? Making him feel like a teenager driven by hormones and not by his head? Mac didn’t fool himself: he harbored a hot, sexual need for her—and that was dangerous ground to be on. One look from those stunning blue eyes and all he could think about was slowly undressing her, mapping her body with his tongue, hands and lips. What kind of power did she hold over him? Mac shook his head, frustrated with his unexpected reaction to Katherine Lincoln. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop caring about her, or being worried for her.

  Mac looked around, but didn’t see Therese, who always shepherded unsuspecting applicants through this disgusting series of tests. The driveway was filled with expensive cars—Mercedes, BMWs and Jaguars. Garcia was having another cartel meeting, no doubt. Standing near the concrete landing pad while the ground crew took care of the Bell, Mac placed his hands on his hips.