“We’ve got to get out of here,” Will told her as several people in the crowd started moving toward them.
“But I can’t leave my father.”
“It’s too late to save him.” Will grabbed her arm.
She hesitated for half a second, then, knowing Will was right, she followed him. Before they could reach an escape route, Will stopped, shoved her behind him and pulled his pistol from the waistband of his pants. He aimed and fired repeatedly, sending half a dozen natives to the marble floor, their life’s blood oozing from them.
Barely managing to escape the temple, Will would not allow Gwen to look back, to slow down for even a second. They met up with Jordan outside the temple and the three of them fled down one exterior corridor after another, at least ten members of the elite brigade chasing them. The white light of one of the sefu spears grazed Jordan’s shoulder. He staggered like a drunk, but somehow managed to stay on his feet. Will shoved Gwen behind a twenty-foot pillar and covered Jordan while he struggled to catch up with them, shooting several guards and halting their pursuit.
Will hurried to Jordan, circled his waist and dragged him behind the pillar with Gwen. He took the Ruger hanging in Jordan’s limp hand and handed it to Gwen.
“Do you have any idea how to use this?” Will asked.
She shook her head. “Don’t worry about hitting anything. Just aim and shoot. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Leave me,” Jordan said, his speech slightly slurred. “You can’t get away … with me holding you back.”
Ignoring Jordan’s pleas to leave him behind, Will and Gwen flanked him, lifted him under his arms and crept away from the pillared corridor. Will didn’t understand why the elite brigade wasn’t following them, but he didn’t stop to check out the situation. They needed every advantage they could get. A five-minute head start might give them a fighting chance, especially if they could lose themselves in the jungle area of the mountain. How close he could take them to the village where they had left Cheryl and Sebak remained to be seen.
“Why aren’t they coming after us?” Gwen asked, slightly winded, her face dotted with perspiration.
“I have no idea, unless they’re trained to tend to their wounded immediately regardless of anything else,” Will told her. “It’s only a theory, but I don’t give a rat’s ass why they’ve stop chasing us, at least for now. We need to get moving while we have the chance.”
Will led them along the fence until they reached a closed gate. When he tried to open the gate, he found it locked. Not hesitating, he aimed his gun, fired and blew off the lock. With no more than a nudge, the gate swung open, and they left the palace grounds. They emerged closer to the massive stone entrance than Will realized and were confronted by four members of the elite brigade. Shooting, he downed two guards in rapid succession. As the remaining two aimed their weapons, he shoved Gwen and Jordan to the ground, shouting for them to roll. He managed to sidestep an oncoming light ray, all the while firing his gun repeatedly. Another guard fell, but the fourth man stopped suddenly, dropped his spear and stared at his downed colleagues, a look of bewildered horror on his face.
It was in that moment, brief though it was, Will realized these men had never seen anyone killed in any other way except ritual sacrifice. They were stunned by the deadly force of Will’s weapon.
Will eased over to the nearest dead guard, grabbed his spear, then stuck his gun into the waistband of his pants.
“Come on,” he called to Gwen and Jordan, then helped them to their feet. “Let’s get the hell out of here while we can.”
“What’s the matter with that guard?” Gwen asked. “He looks as if he’s gone into a trance.”
Will hurried her along, helping her with Jordan, who seemed to be sleepwalking. As they headed toward the stone roadway leading off the mountain, Will answered Gwen’s question. “I think he was stunned to see his three comrades dead. I believe that’s the reason the other soldiers stopped following us.”
“Oh my God!” He saw the look of realization in Gwen’s eyes. “The sefu only tranquilizes its victims. Here on Umi, death usually comes only to the very, very old and to the human sacrifices.”
“We need to get off the road and into the jungle as soon as possible. We can’t be sure that once they come out of their shock and regroup, they won’t come after us.”
They didn’t reach the village of Bahiti until the following morning. Will could have managed to keep going all through the night, but neither Jordan nor Gwen would have made it without the half dozen brief rest stops. During every moment of their escape, Will had stayed constantly alert to any signs that they were being followed.
Despite her exhaustion, blistered feet and brush-scratched arms and legs, Gwen had not uttered one word of complaint, and thankfully, before dawn Jordan returned to normal, the effects of the tranquilizer having finally worn off.
The central fires in the village burned brightly, warming the chilly morning air. Men were already working in the fields and women were busying themselves in the village. Small, brown-skinned, naked children ran around laughing and playing. A tropical paradise, Will thought. So deceptive.
Cheryl saw them as they entered the village and came running, rushing straight into Jordan’s arms. Sebak emerged from a nearby hut and waited for them to come to him.
“Did Lord Baruti allow you to leave Mount Kaphiri?” Sebak asked, his eyes wide with astonishment.
“Not exactly,” Will said.
Sebak looked behind them, searching the pathway that led into the village. “Where is Dr. Arnell? And the other one?”
“They’re dead,” Jordan replied. “Both of them were sacrificed.”
Cheryl cringed.
“It’s only a matter of time before the elite brigade come after us. Not only did I save Gwen from being the third sacrifice, but we killed at least a dozen guards when we escaped,” Will said. “We need to get to the beach on the other side of the island as fast as we can and leave Umi today.”
“I understand. I will guide you back to Oseye,” Sebak said. “From there, you must go on your own.”
“What will the elite brigade do to you and the other villagers?” Gwen asked. “They’ll know that you helped us, that you didn’t report our presence on the island.”
“Your weapons kill,” Sebak said, as if that explained everything.
“We forced you and your village to help us. You did as we ordered you to do out of fear for your lives.” Will knew that the elite brigade would believe Sebak’s reason. Hadn’t they panicked and become stunned to the point of terror when they realized that guns killed, not simply tranquilized?
Grasping Sebak’s hand, Will said, “We owe you our lives, my friend.”
Will, Gwen, Cheryl and Jordan reached the beach at twilight. Despite the dangers involved in taking the raft back to the Footloose in the dark, Will knew that other risks were far greater if they waited until the next day to leave.
While Will started the engines and manned the helm, Gwen stayed at his side. Cheryl and Jordan stood on the deck and gazed back at the mystical island of Umi. When they were several miles out to sea, Will handed Gwen the sefu of Baruti spear.
“You know what to do with this,” he told her.
She nodded, stood, left the helm and joined Jordan and Cheryl on the starboard deck. Will knew what Gwen thought—that the spear was warm, as if alive, and as light as a feather. She lifted it over the railing and tossed it into the Atlantic.
When she rejoined Will at the helm, he slipped his arm around her waist. She rested her head on his shoulder. They remained that way for quite some time.
Finally Will broke the silence. “I’m sorry about your father.”
“So am I.”
“If I could have saved him—”
“No one could have saved him. He was lost long before he rediscovered Umi. His obsession destroyed him. In the end he was insane.”
Will kissed her temple. As tears trickled fro
m her eyes, Gwen clung to Will.
“I love you,” he told her.
“I know,” she said. “You’ve proven to me just how much you love me.”
“More than anything or anyone on earth.”
“You already know that I love you in the same way.”
“When we get back to the States—”
“You’re going to buy me some red silk undies.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am. And you’re going to wear them on our wedding night.”
Gwen sighed deeply. “Was that a proposal?”
“Let’s call it a trial run. Once we get home and we put our lives back together, I’m going to do it right. A diamond ring, flowers, music, me down on bended knee.”
“Will we ever be able to put our lives back together?”
“Eventually. But the only way we can do that is if the four of us—” he nodded toward Cheryl and Jordan “—never reveal the truth about what happened to us, never breathe a word that your father’s island and the magical youth plant exist.”
“I think they’ll agree, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I think so. Something tells me that they want a future together, just as you and I do.”
Gwen snuggled against Will as he took the Footloose due west, straight toward the Bahamas. In time the anger and pain and disappointment that she had experienced in the temple of the high priest’s palace atop Mount Kaphiri would lessen, and perhaps someday vanish completely. Forgiving her father would not be easy, but with Will’s love and support, Gwen knew that she could learn to release the past and happily face the future, knowing in her heart of hearts that she, and she alone, was Will Pierce’s only obsession, just as he was hers.
Epilogue
Gwen stood over Will where he sat on an armless chair in their honeymoon hotel room, his gaze riveted to her body. She did a sexy little dance, shimmying her hips and swaying her breasts. The red bra she wore was sheer lace with underwired, pushup cups that made the very most of her B-cup breasts. The matching bikini panties were strips of silk holding the V-shaped lace that barely covered her. She had never worn anything so blatantly skimpy and alluring in her entire life. But loving Will brought out the vamp in her, and there was nothing she liked more than giving her man what he wanted.
This was the third set of matching red underwear that Will had bought for her, and each set had become progressively skimpier and sexier. The first set, which he’d bought a few weeks after their return to the United States, had been relatively tame, but she hadn’t managed to keep them on long enough for him to appreciate them. One look at her in the satin bra and panties and Will had ripped them off her. The second pair had been red silk with black lace trim. He’d bought them at an exclusive lingerie shop in Atlanta before he moved to Huntsville a few months ago and opened his own P.I. agency. She had worn them for him on the night of their engagement party six weeks ago.
They had married this morning, seven months after meeting in Puerto Nuevo, in an afternoon wedding at the Huntsville Botanical Gardens. Cheryl Kress, newly engaged to Jordan Elders, had been Gwen’s maid of honor, and Jordan had been Will’s best man. Will’s family had flown in from Texas—brothers, sisters-in-law and nephews, as well as his mother and stepfather from Louisiana—and several Dundee agents had driven over from Atlanta. Gwen’s ex-husband and his partner, along with her friends and colleagues had attended the ceremony. The wedding had been perfect, and only once had Gwen allowed herself a moment of grief, giving that little girl inside her a chance to wish that her father was there to give her away. But she had walked down the aisle alone, knowing that once she became Will’s wife, she would never be alone again.
Gwen slid downward slowly and seductively, then straddled Will, who was as naked as the day he was born. He reached up and unhooked the front snap of her bra, freeing her breasts.
After nuzzling each breast, he asked, “Is it my imagination or are these beauties getting bigger?”
She squirmed against his erection, eliciting a pleading groan from him.
“They may be just a tad bigger. I believe it’s quite normal for a woman’s breasts to enlarge throughout her pregnancy.”
Will grabbed her hips to stop her from moving against him. “What did you say?”
“It’s a good thing you made an honest woman out of me today,” she told him. “I took a home pregnancy test this morning and I’m definitely pregnant. If my calculations are correct—”
Will let out a loud whoop, then wrapped his arms around Gwen, effectively trapping her against him as he took her mouth in a hot, hungry kiss. When they were both breathless, they broke apart and grinned at each other.
“It happened six weeks ago,” he said proudly. “The night of our engagement party. Right?”
“Mmm-hmm. That would be my guess.”
“You’re happy about the baby, aren’t you?” He caressed her shoulders.
“If I were any happier, I’m not sure I could stand it.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “What about you? Do you want to be a daddy?”
“You bet I do. I want a little girl who looks just like you, brown eyes.”
“Well, I want a little boy who looks just like you.”
Six months later, they both got their wishes, only in reverse order. Willard Hunter Pierce III, with his mother’s brown eyes and dark hair, came howling into the world five minutes before his twin sister, Gwendolyn Jean Pierce, who was her daddy’s spitting image.
* * * * *
STRANDED WITH
A SPY
MERLINE LOVELACE
About the Author
MERLINE LOVELACE grew up on military bases all around the world. She spent twenty-three years in the United States Air Force herself, pulling tours in Taiwan, Vietnam and at the Pentagon before she hung up her uniform for good and decided to try her hand at writing. She now has more than sixty-five published novels under her belt, with more than nine million copies of her works in print.
Merline and her own handsome hero live in Oklahoma. When she’s not glued to her keyboard, she loves travelling to exotic locations, chasing little white balls around the golf course and enjoying long, lazy dinners with family and friends. Check www.merlinelovelace. com for release dates of future books. To my darling who loves to ramble and explore as much as I do. Thanks for the castles of the Loire Valley, picnicking under the arches of the Pont du Gard, lunch at the Ritz Carlton in Cannes and most of all—for Mont St. Michel
Prologue
With the threat of bombs being detonated in midair by fanatics heavy in their minds, the inspectors screening the baggage going aboard the nonstop flight from D.C.’s Dulles Airport to Paris took no chances.
Bomb dogs sniffed long rows of suitcases and other checked items before handlers slung the pieces onto the conveyor for X-ray screening. Additional handlers waited down line to remove the items from the conveyor and load them onto carts for transport to the Boeing 777 parked out on the ramp.
Certain pieces received additional scrutiny before hitting the cart. Specially trained inspectors pulled off luggage electronically tagged by ticket agents as having been checked by individuals who fit certain profiles, who looked nervous or whose body language was in some way suspicious. Each of these bags were opened and their contents closely examined.
The inspector pawing through one of those bags had worked security at the General Services Administration Headquarters before transferring to the Transportation Security Agency. Otherwise he might not have recognized the logo on the computer disk he found tucked inside a commercial CD case.
“Hey, Chief!”
The call jerked his supervisor’s head around. “What have you got?”
“The case says it’s a CD by a blues singer by the name of Corinne Bailey Rae, but the disk has no markings except this.”
He pointed to a tiny blue square on the inner rim of the silver disk. Inside the square were the letters GSA, with a small star forming the crossbar of the A.
“That’s the
General Services Administration logo. The disk is government property.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time a civil servant ripped off government supplies for private use,” his supervisor mused, “but let’s see what’s on it.”
Careful to handle the disk by the rim with his gloved hands, the inspector slipped it into the computer at his boss’s workstation and clicked on the single file that popped up. Seconds later the computer screen painted with line after line of names, addresses, birthdays and other identifying data.
Several names were highlighted in bold print. The one halfway down the first page elicited a startled “Sonuvabitch” from the inspector and drained all color from his supervisor’s face.
Grabbing his phone, the supervisor punched a speed-dial number that connected him directly with the TSA Operations Center.
“This is Peterson. I’ve got a Code One!”
Chapter 1
A crisp September breeze rustled the leaves of the chestnut trees lining a quiet side street just off Massachusetts Avenue, in the heart of Washington, D.C.’s embassy district. When a taxi pulled up at an elegant townhouse halfway down the block, the driver frowned and shot a quick look in the rearview mirror.
“You sure you got the right address?”
“I’m sure.” His passenger peeled off two bills. “Keep the change.”
Despite the hefty tip, the driver’s frown stayed in place as his fare hauled his beat-up leather carryall out of the cab.
Ready for Anything, Anywhere! Page 20
