by Cherry Adair
“When you put it that way, it sounds ludicrous.”
“Not if we figure out why a large group of very bad guys are trying to make you believe you’re someone you’re not. If you weren’t el jefe of the ANLF, who’d be boss?”
“Angélica. If not, Andrés.”
“He’s weak, and lazy, right?”
“That pretty much sums him up, yeah.” Her assessment was correct and she’d only know Andrés for a handful of hours.
“But if a woman were to be the head of the ANLF, how many men would listen to her? How many of these macho Latin men would respect her law? What if Angélica needed a big, strong guy to be el jefe, while she ruled in the background? No one’s the wiser? Keep you drugged and confused, keep you out of sight here in the jungle…”
“Doesn’t make any sense. Where did she conveniently find me? In some bar? And then what? Kidnapped me. Knocked me over the head, which handily induced a coma and fortuitously caused me to have a total memory loss. That makes even less sense.
“We kidnap people to extract large ransoms,” he continued. “She would’ve sold me—probably in small, bloody pieces—back to my family. Besides which, anyone who’d been in the ANLF for longer than five or six months would know damn well that I wasn’t her son; how could she keep them all in line?”
Her dark eyes watched him with unwavering intensity. Their faces were so close that he saw each individual eyelash, and the faint trace of blue veins on her lids, and felt the gentle rise and fall of her breasts although they weren’t quite touching.
“That woman could scare the devil himself into keeping his mouth shut. And she might be as in the dark about your ID as you are. If she didn’t know who you were, didn’t know if you had family or where they were, it must’ve been like manna from Heaven to have a big strong man show up.”
Riva was putting into words his very thoughts. “Show up where? And why would she take the risk that eventually my memory would return?”
“She was playing for time; she already got seven or eight months of being in charge, thanks to your coma and having kept you fooled since you woke up. I think she’s aware that your memory is back. She just tried to have you killed not two hours ago.”
“Good point.”
“Everyone at the compound claims to know Sin Diaz?”
“Sure. Most of them grew up with me. Plenty of stories there. She showed me some old newspaper clippings from some of my more salacious deeds. I’m a very, very bad man.”
“So you keep telling me and so my intel confirms. Whoever Sin Diaz was or is, he’s one hell of a badass. Help me dispose of Maza, and get me to a town with a computer and a phone. Between T-FLAC and ZAG, we’ll figure out who you are in minutes. Rest assured.” She gave him a bland look, her eyes somber. “If you are Sin Diaz, I’ll be executing a kill order on you so fast you won’t have more than a few seconds to regret your past actions.”
“Then the wisest choice is for you to keep believing that’s who I am until I prove differently. Not the kill order, but I certainly wouldn’t trust me until further notice.”
“Heard and acknowledged. But I’ve seen you dressed for the opera, so I know you aren’t who they tell you you are.” Her features softened, and her eyes smiled. “I’ve also read your microexpressions. I knew you weren’t Sin Diaz—whoever that might be—the minute you didn’t rape me when you first had the opportunity. But I’ll keep the possibility under advisement until we have confirmation. And by the way, you look hot in a tux.”
He shook his head ruefully, wishing he could just believe her. “I’m unpredictable. Violent. Aggressive. And a killer.”
“Sin Diaz is those things.”
“And if nothing else, I’ve been Sin Diaz for the past five months.” His tone was grim, his thoughts more so. He met her eyes. “The safest bet is to get you to your people ASAP.”
She shook her head. “My directive is to discover exactly what Maza has planned, and then to kill him. I’m not leaving until I’ve done my job.” She wiggled around until she lay on her side. “How many hours dare we sleep?”
“Three.”
She closed her eyes. “Want me to wake you? I’ll set my body clock.”
Three hours’ sleep would be a luxury for him. His insomnia was legendary. Sin shifted so he could lie down, too. They were practically nose to nose. God, he loved the smell of her. Earthy woman, apricots, and a scent uniquely Riva.
Pillowing her head on her arms, she murmured, “Turn off the light.”
“In a sec.” Sin reached back into his pocket and withdrew the folded magazine page. Wordlessly, he unfolded it, and handed it to her.
“What’s this?” She looked at him with a small smile. “A recipe from Good Housekeeping?”
No. My talisman. Sin was almost reluctant to give her the one thing he’d been hanging on to for months. The one thing that tethered him to another life. Another man. Chest restricted, heart hammering, he gave her the flashlight. “Do you know who these two guys are? They look— Hell, I don’t know. Not familiar, but as if they should look familiar.”
Her eyes widened. She sat up on her elbow and brought the circle of light closer to the page.
“What is it?”
Her gaze shot from the paper in her hand to his face. “Holy crap. I know exactly who you are.”
His heart leapt and started to pound. Anticipation, fear. Excitement. “From a picture in a years-old magazine?”
“You’re famous.”
“Oh, Christ. Don’t tell me. I’m an actor.”
“You’re Gideon Stark. This is you"—she pointed with the hand holding the flashlight—"and your brother. Hell, what’s his name? Hang on.” She closed her eyes for a second. “Let me think. ZAG… Z…and G. Z? Z? Zakary! You and your brother founded the ZAG search engine. Damn. Something happened to the two of you. I think. I’m trying to remember. It was all over the news…”
He waited impatiently in silence as she tapped her fingers on the folded magazine picture, hoping she held the memories he did not of what happened to him. “Sin… Gideon.” She looked at him. “I think the two of you were kidnapped—”
“They killed him?” Shit, he was suddenly mourning a brother he hadn’t known existed until ten seconds ago. A brother he didn’t remember except for a vague sense of familiarity from a photo in an old, folded magazine page.
“No. He’s still around. Alive. Seattle, I think.”
Seattle was a long goddamned way from the jungles of Cosio. “So he abandoned me to my fate. Nice fucking guy.”
“Assumptions. You better than anyone else know that’s a huge mistake. Maybe he thought you were dead.”
He needed to pace. To move. Walk. Think. Those were not options at the moment. “Which one do you think I am?”
“Gideon. Gideon Stark. Hot damn! I’m sure of it.”
“Maybe.” And maybe this famous brother of his had escaped their kidnappers and saved his own ass, resuming his successful life of fame and fortune and leaving Sin—Gideon—behind. “Where did the kidnapping happen? Cosio? That would make sense.”
He didn’t wait for her to answer. He didn’t need to. He knew the answer. “Angélica kidnapped us. Crap. He had to have escaped, or was let go to drum up ransom. For whatever reason, he didn’t return to get me. She kept me. It explains how she got her hands on me. How long ago?”
She shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not sure. The whole thing was all over the news for several months. I got a glimpse of the headlines about a year ago when I was on an op in Samara. But who knows how old it was by the time it made its way to where I was in Russia.”
“A year? Maybe longer? And I’ve been out of my coma for five months. Where was I before that?” He took the magazine page from Riva and studied the two men with fresh eyes. Was this him? “To be honest, I don’t feel like this Stark guy either. I don’t remember wearing a suit. This guy looks like a fucking urbanite. If this is me, how in the hell don’t I recognize myself? “
&nbs
p; Riva touched his chin. “Maybe the scruff is new. You probably didn’t have this scar.” She lightly touched his eyebrow, then his jaw. “Or this one either. I’d hazard a guess that you don’t stare at yourself in a mirror very often. If and when you shave, you’re more likely to do it by feel than by sight. Am I right? You’re more a Stark than a Diaz, I assure you.”
She was right. He actually didn’t recall the last time he’d glanced in a mirror. Still, he didn’t feel like either man. “If I’m not Sin Diaz, then where is he? Dead?”
“Or made up. A terrifying, threatening, ominous urban legend. There are no pictures of him. He’s never been identified. But T-FLAC has been well aware of his existence for at least a decade. Together, father and son were hell on wheels, terrorizing the emerald miners, kidnapping, selling drugs, et cetera. But Sin became even more powerful, and considerably stronger, after Carlos Diaz’s death about seven years ago.”
Sounded right. Mama had multiple stories about his accomplishments after his father’s—Sin’s father—death “He came into his own.”
Riva spread her fingers on his chest over his heart. “Or someone wanted the world to think so.”
“Angélica.”
“Oh yeah.”
A piercing headache made him grit his teeth. “She took away my life, planted false memories, and removed any opportunity for me to reunite with my family. She has a lot to fucking answer for.” And he’d get those answers, one way or another. He folded the slick page more carefully, now that it gave him an anchor to his past. “She told me I have a son.”
Dropping her exploring hand, she blinked. “That came out of left field.”
Sin turned off the flashlight, plunging them into semi-darkness. He’d loved the feel of her cool fingers learning the contours of his face, now his heart leapt with anticipation as she stroked his chest. “He’s five and a half.” His voice sounded foreign to him, thick with regret, guilt, and love for a child he’d never met, never seen, knew nothing about. Surely, if he wasn’t Sin Diaz he wouldn’t care so deeply about this boy?
“I was told I raped his mother, beat her half to death when I found out she was pregnant, and abandoned her.” And now, he felt guilty about an offense he had callously committed, wondering whether, at the time, he’d felt remorse about the evil act. He could not, for one second, reconcile the act of rape with the feelings that he now had. Committing such a heinous act seemed so foreign to him that the thought that he did it made him sick to his stomach.
“If today is any indication of your true nature, you’re most definitely not a rapist. You could’ve assaulted me any number of times while I was unconscious or restrained. You didn’t.”
“I just asserted my amazing self-control,” he said wryly.
“That’s my point. You have control.”
He felt the heat of Riva’s body down the length of his, tasted her breath on his tongue as she asked softly, “Are you saying Sin Diaz has a five-and-a-half-year-old son?”
He picked up the tail end of her braid, pooled on the sleeping bag between them. “So I’ve been told.” Running the silken twists of dark hair across his palm, he played with it like a string of smooth worry beads. “Never met him.”
“It’s unlikely you have a son that age, Gideon; you were living in America when he was conceived and born. You’re clearly highly intelligent, well educated, a seasoned traveler. I know nothing about you, but I can pretty much guarantee that you wouldn’t use violence on a woman.”
Gideon. “I might’ve done that when I was here on a visit.” Was he trying to convince himself that he really was Sin Diaz? He knew in his gut that Riva was right. But he had to be 1,000 percent sure.
“And it might be another bullshit story that Mama told you to keep you in line.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it, I promise.” She meant it. She wanted to help. “But one thing I’m sure of: You are Gideon Stark.” She liked the feel of his fingers gently playing with her hair. Even the lightest touch seemed to make each follicle feel alive, as though individual nerve endings connected directly to her nipples. The sensation also inspired a throbbing ache between her legs.
“You know this only from that photo.” He blew out a breath. “I’ve been lied to for months, living a life that I never felt connected to. Now, you tell me I’m a different man, someone I don’t feel a connection to either.” He sounded at once doubtful and hopeful.
Riva gave a small, one-shouldered shrug, which he wouldn’t be able to see in the dark. “I’m not lying to you. I have nothing to gain from it. I know you’re Gideon from that magazine picture and from my intuition, which is never wrong. Plus the fact that despite being convinced of all your nefarious deeds, you remain conflicted and repulsed by who they claimed you were. I have something else to offer you. Earlier today you told me I had a death wish. Just like your brother.”
“God—”
She reached out to him in the darkness and touched his face. His jaw was heavily stubbled, but the hair was soft to the touch. Enjoying the tickle of it beneath her palm, she stroked his cheek, wondering if her touch affected him the same way his affected her. “Help me find Maza, and put a stop to what he has planned. Then we can figure out what happened between the time you last saw your brother and now.”
“Maza’s a sick fuck, you know that. I can’t dissuade you from looking for him?”
“I came here to do a job.” Riva stroked her thumb across his lower lip. Parting his lips, he nibbled on the pad. The sensation shot directly between her legs and remained there, damp and heavy.
Having him swirling his tongue against her finger was too damn distracting. “Look, honestly? I can’t ask a civilian to go into a dangerous situation like this, especially since there’s a damn good chance that you might be killed. Or worse, knowing how Escobar Maza operates. But we both know I’ll be better off with you than going in alone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m good at my job, damn good. And I could probably take him alone. But I’m used to working with a team.” She thought of Sanchez and Castro with a pang. She’d barely known them, but their deaths gave her a heavy heart. Death was a daily part of a T-FLAC operative’s life, but she didn’t have to be immune to the sadness that came with it, and she didn’t have to like it.
“My fellow operatives were killed in the chopper crash, remember? Until I reestablish contact with my control, I have no backup. And honestly? It’s just not smart to try and go it alone.”
“There was zero possibility of that ever happening, I assure you,” Gideon told her, then turned his face into her palm, kissing it. “Since I can’t persuade you to come with me to Santa de Porres, I’ll be fully locked and loaded beside you.”
Relief flooded her. He knew the jungle better than the newly arrived Maza did. Certainly a damn sight better than she did. Knew Maza’s methodology, and even better still, had resources here that she didn’t have access to. She needed him. Yeah, she could probably pull off killing Maza if she was smart about it. But alone, there’d be zip possibility of leaving his camp alive.
But it was damn hard to follow a conversation when the prospect of being eaten by this man was becoming a reality. “Okay. Good. Fine. Thanks.”
Gideon chuckled, and since he was proceeding to nibble her thumb, the sound shot through her in a delicious wave of anticipation, ricocheting off all her pleasure points like liquid fire. Unfortunately, he was apparently done sucking her fingers, because he gently took her wrist, removing her hand from the vicinity of his mouth. “Turn over and go to sleep. Tomorrow promises to be an exciting, fun-filled day, and we both have to be sharp and on our toes.”
Riva realized how strong he was as he lifted her with one hand, and managed to flip her over. Slinging a heavy arm over her waist, he pulled her tightly against him, then cupped her breast in his palm as if he had every right to do so. “Sleep,” he ordered.
“Easy for you to say,” she mumbled, pillowing her head on her bent elbow, and snuggling her butt against his impressive ere
ction.
“Do you always have to have the last word, Rimaldi?”
“Yes.”
His warm breath fanned her nape as he chuckled, then his breath became heavier.
Damn it.
The man was asleep. He had a will of steel. She could feel his erection pulsing. She knew he wanted her, but he was a jungle survivor and knew sleep was a means of self-preservation, while sex was recreation. After the day they’d had, and the day that was in store for them tomorrow, he had decided which was most important. Training told her she should be agreeing with him, but desire had her thinking that the two activities weren’t mutually exclusive. After all, they had a few hours.
She sighed in resignation when his breaths became even deeper. She covered his hand cupping her breast, nestled into his warm, hard body, and fell off the precipice into sleep.
Always a light sleeper—it had saved her bacon more than once—Riva woke to darkness. Instantly alert for sounds or movement outside the small tent, she heard nothing but the distant call of a bird.
Hmm. She was sprawled on top of Gideon Stark as though he was a Heavenly Comfort bed. Comfortable he wasn’t. He was as hard and unyielding as the ground had been when she’d fallen asleep. How or when she’d climbed on top of him was a mystery. When she slept she usually didn’t move for the duration.
Eyes closed, she was wide awake now, nose buried in the curve of his neck. The smell of his skin, musky, something uniquely Gideon, made all her molecules hop, skip, and jump inside her body. What was it about the smell of him that supercharged her? Sex was okay. Sex had its place. But this… She wasn’t sure what the hell this was. Riva felt like an adolescent girl noticing a boy for the first time.
Her knees cradled his hips, her center directly on top of his enormous erection. A full body shudder racked her, and her heart started thumping harder and faster. His breathing was deep and even, and he’d loosely draped an impersonal arm over the small of her back.
