"Oh, I don't know. About the same time you do, I suppose."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, Mr. I-always-fly-solo, that we both possess certain unique skills and don't necessarily feel the need to consult with each other about how to employ them.. .even when one of us is sitting in the rear cockpit, ready to toss up her cookies."
"Still hacked off about that landing? I got us down, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did. I just wish you'd let me know what you plan to do before you do it next time."
He thought about that for a few moments, his eyes unreadable in the darkness that surrounded them.
"All right I'll give it a shot. Here's the plan rattling around in my head right now. First, I'm going to kiss you. On the lips to start with. Then I'm thinking seriously about unzipping your jacket, tugging off your T-shirt and jeans and kissing the rest of you."
Dani's mouth opened. Snapped shut. A dozen flip retorts flashed into her mind, but she didn't utter any of them for the simple reason that Buchanan had already bent his head and was initiating Phase I of his plan.
She braced herself for another fighter pilot-type attack, was all prepared to laugh it off and put an end to matters before they went any further. Instead of swooping down with guns blazing, however, the sneaky devil glided in and merely brushed her lips with his. Slowly. Gently.
So slowly, she had time to absorb the taste of salty peanuts along with the rich scent of leather and healthy male. So gently, she un-braced and allowed herself to relax.
That, of course, was exactly the incentive Buchanan needed to implement Phase II. His head angled. His mouth fastened hard and sure on hers. One hand tunneled into her hair, tangling in the windblown strands, and held her steady while his tongue began a dark, sensual exploration.
Dani thought about calling a halt at that point. She urgently needed to stay centered, to concentrate all her focus on the coming dawn.
Yet dawn suddenly seemed so far away.
And Buchanan was right here, right now.
She fought a fierce, silent battle with herself and lost. Her palms flattened on the worn leather, slid up to hook around his neck. Her tongue danced with his, slowly at first, then with increasing greed. She closed her eyes, shutting out the silhouette of canvas wings and the swaying piñon branches just beyond, allowing Buchanan to dominate her mind as well as her senses.
All too soon, she was ready to move from her mind and her senses directly to her body. Or more correctly, to move on to his. The hands she'd hooked behind his neck unlocked and made a slow trip south, stopping momentarily at each button along the way. His belt buckle gave after a tug or two. His jeans unsnapped with a small pop.
He lifted his head, his breath coming hard and fast. "This team business works both ways, green-eyes. You want to tell me what's next on your agenda? Just so we can coordinate our activities, you understand."
Dani understood. He was giving her the choice. As far as she was concerned, there was only one. It was right there, under her palm, hard and straining against his zipper.
"The first item on my agenda," she said on a low, husky note, "is this."
She pressed the heel of her hand against the ridge and felt a leap of feminine delight at his instant response.
"Then," she murmured, "I thought I might try this."
Her fingers found the zipper tab and worked it down. When she dipped inside the open waistband, he gave a little grunt and went stiff all over.
After that, they abandoned the pretense of following any sort of plan. There was a wild rush to shed their clothes, an urgent tangle of arms and hips and legs. Jack retained just enough sanity to grab his flight bag, fumble among the charts and assorted jumble for a condom, and sheathe himself before Dani's greedy mouth and hands sent him straight into a tailspin.
With his muscles coiled, his entire body taut with need, he kneed her legs apart and positioned himself at the entrance to her slick, wet core. As eager as he, she hooked her calves around his and canted her hips to meet his thrust.
She was every thrill Jack had ever experienced in the air and on the ground, all rolled into one incredible woman. When he tried to throttle back, she pushed him harder and faster. When he drove into her with the force and rhythm of a piston, she gasped, stiffened and locked him deep within her.
The earth was falling away beneath him when her entire body arched. A groan ripped free from far back in her throat.
"Jack! I can't...hold...back!"
"Then don't!"
With a rush of primitive satisfaction, he took her over the edge. Satisfaction gave way to a momentary sense of masculine power while Dani spasmed around him. Then she shuddered, gripped him tight with arms and legs and drove him right off the planet.
She woke him hours later the same way she had the morning before—with a low hiss and a sharp jab to the ribs.
"Jack!"
The hiss barely penetrated his consciousness, but the sharp elbow got his attention. He jerked, tightening his arm around her instinctively, and blinked awake. Before he could grunt out a demand to know what that was all about, she whispered an urgent warning.
"Quiet! The sensors have picked up some kind of movement."
He went still, listening intently. The wind sighed through the tree branches. An owl hooted in the distance. Nothing else disturbed the quiet.
"What was it?" he murmured.
"I'm not sure."
He threw a quick look over his shoulder. The distant glow of dawn gilded the peaks to the east, but their private patch of mountaintop remained bathed in darkness.
Suddenly, he heard a sound. The faint scrabble of a paw or a hoof—or a foot!—on rock. Caught by the wind and carried up to the plateau.
"Sounds like something's climbing up toward us," he whispered into her ear. "Could be a deer or a mountain cat."
"Could be," she agreed grimly. "Or it could be that someone saw the plane come down and has decided to check it out."
That particular thought had occurred to Jack, too. It was hovering foremost in his mind when another rattle of stones broke the stillness. No doubt about it. Someone or something was climbing up the cliffs below.
Both he and Dani sprang into swift, silent action. With a lithe twist, she shed his protective arm and the leather bomber jacket he'd tucked around her while she slept. Hastily, she scrambled into her clothes and grabbed her Beretta with one hand, the scanner with the other.
Jack yanked on his jeans, shoved his feet into his boots and snatched up the Glock. A heartbeat later, they were crouched low and racing for the edge of the escarpment.
Chapter 5
Buchanan cut through the darkness with the silent, lethal grace of a panther. Dani had worked with a number of operatives during her years as an undercover agent, but had to admit the ex-fighter pilot seemed to possess the instincts of a born hunter.
Twenty or so yards from the edge of the plateau, they took up positions designed to provide maximum concealment and an unobstructed line of fire. Dani crouched behind a bush that gave off the pungent stink of turpentine. Jack dropped into a fissure in the rock.
The sun was gold-plating the peaks to the east, but the predawn light had yet to sweep across the plateau. Squinting through the darkness, Dani communicated with Jack by means of hand signals. Together, they worked out a rough plan. She would aim the scanner, Jack the Glock. She'd raise one finger to indicate she'd picked up the heat source. Two to signify it appeared to be of the two-legged variety. Three...
Three meant it was armed and potentially dangerous. In which case Dani would remain concealed, allow the source to climb onto the plateau and let Jack get the drop on him—or them!—from behind.
Pure, undiluted adrenaline pumped through her veins. The receiver strapped to her wrist was pulsing like mad now. Their uninvited guest had tripped at least a half-dozen sensors.
Dani gripped the small scanning device with sweaty palms, willing herself to calm, forcing air into her lungs in
measured breaths. Still, every nerve in her body jolted when she heard another scuffle of foot on stone, followed by a grunt.
No, not a grunt. More like a gasp. A harsh, ragged intake of breath laced with panic. Or desperation.
Her jaw tight, Dani aimed the scanner directly toward the sound. A green blip appeared on the screen. She stabbed one finger into the air to let Buchanan know she'd picked up the heat source. A moment later, the blip took on shape and definition, and a second finger shot up.
With startling clarity, the scanner tracked the figure that heaved itself onto the plateau and lay flat, panting. It was definitely of the two-legged variety, wearing what looked like ragged cotton pants and a fatigue-type shirt. Dani's throat closed as she made out the green-and-black camouflage spots on the shirt...and the automatic rifle slung over the man's back.
Grimly, she jabbed a third finger into the air.
She was just about to drop the scanner and aim the Beretta when the man lifted his head. Dani gaped at the screen in disbelief, blinked twice to make sure what she was seeing wasn't a mirage.
It wasn't!
With a wild whoop, she abandoned both the scanner and her concealment and charged full tilt at the prone figure.
"Trish!"
Fifteen yards away, Jack registered the name but didn't take his finger off the dock's trigger until their uninvited guest lurched to her feet.
"Dani!"
The newcomer threw herself forward, laughing and crying at the same time. The two women collided and wrapped their arms around each other in a ferocious bear hug. Total chaos ensued, with more exclamations, more hugs, and both sisters firing questions like bullets.
"How did you find me?"
"It took some doing. How'd you get away?"
"I had one of the guards take me outside the cave to go potty, and I decked him. Are you part of another government task force? They gagged me, dragged me off kicking and fighting, just moments before one hit last week."
"No, no task force. How many kidnappers are there?"
"Ten that I saw." Her jaw tightened. "They wore ski masks whenever they came into the caves, but I'm pretty sure I can identify at least three from various tattoos, broken teeth and the names the others let slip. Those bastards are going down."
Standing in the shadows, Jack could only admire the woman's astounding resilience. She'd just decked an armed guard and scaled a sheer cliff in the dark, yet she was ready to go back and take them all on. No wonder Dani and her stepsister were so close. Their old man had molded them into hard, tensile steel. Remembering the colonel's efforts to do the same with him, Jack smiled and shoved his Glock into its holster.
The movement caused Patricia's head to whip around. She stabbed a swift, narrow glance into the shadows.
"Who are you?"
"Jack Buchanan."
"Formerly U.S. Air Force," Dani supplied. "Now a private pilot."
Enough light was filtering over the peaks for both the hostage and her would-be rescuer to get a good look at each other. While Jack noted a tumble of mink-dark hair and high, sculpted cheekbones, Patricia took in his bare chest, unsnapped jeans and unlaced boots.
Her gaze zinged back to Dani and performed a quick inventory of tangled red hair, a T-shirt pulled on wrong side out and sockless feet shoved into hiking boots.
"Well, well," she murmured, fixing Jack with a longer, considering glance. "This is interesting. I don't recall Dani mentioning you before. Just how long have you two known each other?"
"Long enough." A wicked grin pulled at his mouth. "We're on our honeymoon."
"What?"
"It's a long story," Dani interjected hastily. "One we don't have time to go into right now."
Patricia sobered instantly. "You're right. The guard I conked has no doubt come to by now and sounded the alarm." She did a quick scan of the plateau. "How did you get up here, drive or climb?"
"Neither. We flew. Jack's plane is tucked under those trees over there."
Her sister's jaw dropped. "You landed a plane here? On this mountaintop?"
"Hey, it wasn't my idea."
Patricia closed her mouth, opened it again, looked around once more. Knocked completely out of her cool, she shook her head.
"We...we heard a plane buzz the cliffs earlier, but we thought... That is, the kidnappers thought it was another government search plane. They figured it would touch down at the airstrip north of here, and sent two men to check it out. That's why I climbed up instead of down. I was afraid I'd meet those two on the way back. But I never dreamed...never imagined..."
"Why don't we talk about it later?" Jack suggested, shepherding them toward the Stearman. "I need to dump some fuel and you need to—"
"Oh, hell!"
Dani's exclamation stopped him dead. His stomach did a swift roll as she glanced down at her wrist.
"Is that gadget telling you what I think it is?"
She nodded, her face grim. "We've got more company."
"How long?"
"I'm guessing rive minutes."
Swiftly, he calculated the odds. Eight, maybe ten heavily armed men against one Beretta, one Glock, the rifle slung across Patricia's shoulders.
Well, he'd been in tighter spots. One in particular would remain burned in his memory for a long, long time. Daniel Flynn had extricated Jack and six other crew dogs from that disaster. He would extricate the old man's daughters from this one.
"Good thing the Canary doesn't have to warm up to sing," he said, breaking into a run.
Patricia shot Dani a perplexed look. "Canary?"
Dani didn't have the heart to go into details. Three or four more steps, and Trish would be able to discern for herself the size and shape of the bright yellow biplane. And its age.
Sure enough, her first glimpse of the aircraft brought Patricia stumbling to a halt. Utter disbelief blanked her features.
"That's how you got up here?"
"That's it," Jack confirmed cheerfully, kicking aside the brush piled in front of the nose. Two quick heaves moved the rocks away from the wheels. Tramping over the various items of clothing still scattered under the wing, he thrust one chute at her and the other at Dani.
"Okay, ladies. Squeeze into the rear cockpit and strap yourselves down."
Dani guessed she might—might!—erase the memory of their takeoff, say, sometime in the next century.
Thanks to its many overhauls, the Stearman's 220-horsepower engine coughed a couple of times, burped once and revved up to full power. The ensuing roar shattered the dawn. Frantic birds thrashed out of the bushes. A startled deer bounded across the far edge of the escarpment. And Dani was sure she heard shouts. Close by.
Too close.
Wedged tight in the rear seat, she squirmed around for a better angle. As Jack taxied out from under the trees, she kept the Beretta aimed at the spot where Patricia had flung herself over the edge. Beside her, her sister leveled the semiautomatic rifle at the same spot.
Jack took the Stearman right to the edge of the escarpment, so close that the tail rudder fanned sky as the plane swung around. Patricia sucked in air.
The Stearman lurched into a roll. Gathered speed. Bumped across the rocky surface.
Dani sensed immediately the plane was too heavy. She was sure they'd blow a tire. Or bust a strut. And they were moving too slowly! Craning, she tried to see around Jack's bulk to gauge the distance still remaining.
A burst of gunfire from Patricia's semiautomatic rifle almost shattered her eardrums. She whipped her head back around, saw two men dive for cover and another duck back down below the edge of the plateau. Calmly, she took aim with the Beretta.
The bastards never got off a single shot. The two sisters maintained a steady hail of fire, keeping them pinned while the Stearman bumped and lurched toward absolute nothingness. Suddenly, the ground dropped away beneath the plane's wheels. Sheer momentum kept the biplane moving forward. Five yards. Ten.
Then it sank like the proverbial stone.
&
nbsp; Patricia gave a small shriek, dropped her rifle with a clatter and wrapped her sister in a stranglehold. Dani couldn't breathe, couldn't hear for the roaring in her ears, couldn't see a thing except the tendons cording Jack's bare shoulders and neck as he worked the controls.
It probably took only a few moments until he brought the nose up and they were flying straight and level, but those were the longest damned moments of Dani's life. Patricia's, too, judging by the stream of rather colorful invective she let loose. Buchanan didn't help matters by twisting around, giving them a thumbs-up and grinning.
Incredulous, Patricia shouted into Dani's ear, "The idiot looks like he actually enjoyed that."
"He probably did."
"Where did you find this guy?"
"In a bar in Oklahoma."
"And you married him?"
"No. That's just the cover we're using here in Mexico."
Shoving back her wildly whipping hair, Patricia eyed Jack's naked back. Her gaze slid from his broad shoulders to her sister's inside-out T-shirt.
"So does he perform as well in the sack as he does in the air?"
"Better, actually."
Scrabbling around with her boot, Dani found the radio headset and slipped it over one ear so she could communicate with Jack via the intercom without shouting herself hoarse. With the other ear, she listened while Patricia recounted the details of her harrowing weeks in Mexico.
The morning ground haze gradually dissipated, but as they headed north a bank of gray clouds drifted up to obscure the sun. The Sierra Madres wound and twisted below them, too close at times for Patricia's comfort. Her ragged nails gouged canvas on more than one occasion until the mountains began to flatten into rolling foothills.
Dani had just convinced herself they were home free when she caught a high, faint whine. Frowning, she coiled around to squint at the sky behind.
That small black speck was probably a hawk.
Lord, please let it be a hawk!
She tracked it for another few minutes. That's all it took to determine the black blob was, in fact, a small plane. And that it appeared to have vectored in on them. Sighing, she repositioned the headset and keyed the intercom.
Undercover Operations Page 5
