by Cherry Adair
"Trust me, if I was any more alert I'd be--Uh-oh. I think we have a new problem," River murmured, staring at the mountain of mountain spilling across the narrow road.
No shit. An avalanche of rocks and vegetation four stories high blocked their path.
"Fuck." No way to pass. The good news was his comm suddenly crackled to life in his ear. "Delta team, this is Alpha One." The comm crackled, faded in, faded out, came back. "What's your status?"
“Half village saf. . . transported to a . . .fer location.”
Crackling swallowed more of the words, and then cleared up. “...to evac...rest. . . assistance. . . Marcus. Spotty comms playing havoc with. . . plans.”
Fortunately, everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing, having been trained to think on their feet. The unexpected was always expected. “I’m on other side of a rock fall. Have Dr. Sullivan's sister with me. Need you to transport her to the airport ASAP."
“Can't access. . . your location. Road's blocked. Have no way to do airport transport. Copy?”
“Copy.” Fucking loud and clear. . Daklin got out of the car to inspect the problem and weigh the options. Picking up a six-foot limb, he prodded the surface of the rockslide. Rocks, and branches immediately tumbled down and he had to jump clear.
He returned to the car.
"I think I can climb over that," River said calmly, her attention on the rocks and shale still tumbling and bouncing onto the road in front of the hood.
The color was high on her cheeks, making her soft gray eyes wide and clear as rainwater. Blonde strands of chin-length hair had fallen precisely back into her former smooth bob as her hair dried. Looking fresh, sexy, and desirable, she was dangerously tempting. She wasn't nearly as fragile as she looked; clearly, not even this was going to get her down.
He wasn't sure if the race of his pulse was disappointment that he wasn't getting rid of her as easily or quickly as he'd anticipated, or sheer fucking delight that he had a few more hours to spend with her. Daklin stepped over the low door to get behind the wheel. He ignored the screaming agony of his leg. It was nothing new. "Nobody can climb that. It’s too unstable." Unless he could catapult her over the mini-mountain blocking their way, he was out of options. He started the car. It didn't sound any happier than he felt.
"Now what?"
Backing up, he made a tight U-turn. "Now we go back to the hacienda and pretend nothing's happened, until I can get you out." If he hadn’t already said enough to convince her she wanted to be far, far away from there, the explosion certainly did.
"Today, right?"
"Only if they manage to clear the rock fall, and the chances of that are pretty damn slim. Sorry, honey. We can't risk a chopper flying in to get you. That would alert Xavier and his men."
"I don't suppose there's anywhere else for me to stay tonight if I don't get rescued, is there? That place gives me the willies, and Franco—-“She gave an exaggerated shudder.
"My people will have you out of here before then, don't worry."
"You and your men are awesome." She braced a hand on the shattered dash as a medium-sized Brocket deer leapt across the road in two jumps, disappearing into the dense vegetation on the opposite side. "But sorry, you guys have a completely different agenda that's far more compelling than me. I've always taken care of myself, so forgive me if I don't bank on anyone else saving my ass if and when the shit starts hitting the fan."
They passed the turn off up to the mine, and he kept going. "Did your brother take care of you after your parents died?"
"Oliver having my back has always been the illusion we both clung to," River told him. "But it's always been me, in the present, keeping things together when my absentminded older brother forgot to eat or pay his bills. Or amassed multi-millions in his checking account."
Daklin had figured that much. "What about your husband? Didn't he take care of you?"
She turned to give him a cool look. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, Ash. I never needed either Oliver or my ex-husband to take care of me. Devon loved my strength when he married me, but he wasn't so gung ho about it afterwards."
Daklin had no fucking idea why he was suddenly irritable. "Very civilized." The sun shone brightly on her pale hair and lightly tanned shoulders and sparkled off the diamonds in her ears. The temperature was rising, but currently no one was trying to kill them, and he could inhale and smell her unique scent. He'd be able to identify her in a dark room amid a hundred women by the smell of her skin alone.
The grade started to level as they approached the valley floor. There was no indication here of the explosion. While narrow and winding, the road was clear of detritus. The sun’s heat had dried their clothes, and still caused a steamy mist to rise off the foliage on either side of the road. Not quite a sauna, but damned close.
The tires bit into the cobbled street in the village. "Will the roadblock interfere with getting the rest of the villagers out?"
"Working on that, too." Ash slowed as they got closer to the hacienda. Father Marcus stood outside, watering his flowers. Ash pulled over and stopped. "Morning, Marcus."
Father Marcus turned off the hose at the nozzle. "An interesting morning, I see." He gave the shot up car a cursory glance, fixing his gaze on River. "I heard the explosion. Are you all right, my dear?"
"The car looks a bit like how I feel," River said with a smile. "But I'm unharmed, thanks, Father Marcus."
"Your Excellency?"
"River knows who I am, Marcus. She was up at the plant. The guards didn't take too kindly to her visit. The car took the brunt of it. We're unharmed. As you see, the convertible wasn't as lucky. The blast brought down the north side of the mountain, blocking the road and pass. No one in or out. I was able to communicate briefly with the team. They'll work on it, but for now, we're sealed in. We'll figure out a way to evacuate the rest of you," Daklin assured him. "Hang tight and wait for word."
Marcus gave him a worried look, but didn't ask specifics. Good thing, because right now Daklin didn't have answers.
"Leave the car here," Marcus told him. "I'll have Jorge come and fetch it. How long do I have to get the rest of my people out?"
"I'll keep you in the loop, don’t worry."
"It's my job to do so. And now I'm deeply concerned about River's safety as well."
"Don't worry about me, Father. I can take care of myself. You can also count on me to help you when Ash tells us to move. We'll all go together."
"Thank you, my dear. That's commendable." He glanced at Daklin. "Better go in. Franco asked about you fifteen minutes ago. I told him I thought you'd gone for a run. Leave the car where it is. Go have breakfast. Keep me informed. Now more than ever."
"Copy that." Daklin climbed out of the low-slung car with some difficulty. He didn't allow himself so much as grimace, but River slowed her steps slightly to accommodate his limp as they walked up the driveway of the hacienda.
Only Franco's bodyguard was around when they went inside. He greeted them with a nod, and they went upstairs.
"We'll go down for breakfast together. How long do you need to clean up?"
"Half an hour. Going at a hundred miles an hour, and forgoing mascara." Her smile did some weird shit to his heartbeat. "But honestly? I'm not going down until it's time for me to leave. I don't want to make nice with Franco. I'm not that good an actress."
But I’m not ready to tell you goodbye yet.
That reality shocked him as much as the unexpected explosion had just rocked the fucking mountain. Because he couldn't seem to help himself, Daklin stayed at her doorway, stroking his hand down her arm. Her skin felt soft, smooth, and cool to the touch. "I'll have something sent up." Tempted to follow her into her room, and make use of the wide, soft bed, he gritted his teeth. Once would have to hold him.
He had to make do with River as a snack, and not fall on her like a ravenous dog, and consume her like the meal he craved. It took every ounce of self-control to release her and step away. "We’ll
keep you updated."
"Great." She inserted the key in the lock, her head bowed. Her nape looked pale and vulnerable. He wanted to lay kisses along the soft, fragrant, delicate curve.
"Fine." Damn it, his feet seemed glued to the carpet.
She pushed open her door a crack behind her. "I caught that we, Ash. Will I see you again today?"
"Me, or one of my people."
The light in her eyes dimmed. "Oh, right. Okay then." Moving to enter her room, she turned. He was still standing in the middle of the corridor. "Stay safe, please."
He stuffed his hands in his back pockets so he didn't grab her. "Lock your door."
She turned and slipped into her room, closing the door with a snap.
Standing there in the dimly lit corridor, Daklin heard the click of the key turning in the lock.
Fuck. With the door closing on the soft light and beauty that was the essence of River Sullivan, his harsh reality descended upon him. It felt more as if he was locked out than she was safely locked in. What the hell was wrong with him? He wanted her bad enough that he could fuck up this op.
Let that be goodbye, dumb fuck. You know you’re not coming off that goddamn mountain tonight. Regretting that you’re never going to see her again is just going to mess with your head.
Which is messed up enough.
Goddamn funny how when you’re with her, everything seems perfectly clear. As if she’s holding a crystal ball, in which you see a fucking future. His feet heavy, he turned from her doorway and went into his own room.
He was a fallen agent, and T-FLAC had given him one final chance for redemption. The reality was he had a vital mission. Seeing River again would only remind him of how fucked up his life had actually become, because T-FLAC knew, and he knew, that the likelihood of his survival was pretty damn slim.
Remember why you’re here, asshole. You can’t give her more. Let that be goodbye.
#
Eyes closed, River leaned against the locked door, her heart beating as hard as if she'd run a seven minute mile. "That went well," she murmured sardonically. All her girl parts sparked and sizzled on high alert.
For no freaking reason.
While she'd felt hot and bothered, and been acutely aware of the sexual tension arcing between them for the last hour, Ash was wholly focused on his job and seemed oblivious to it, which was only right.
He should be. She should too. Her job was to find her brother. She’d always been able to be pinpoint focused. What the hell was going on to turn her brain into silly, girly slushy mush? And, why did it unreasonably aggravate her that his brain seemed perfectly intact?
Opening her eyes, she pushed away from the door, and then muffled a startled scream when she saw a figure slumped in the easy chair beneath the window.
The woman—-a girl, really—-didn't stir as River approached, her footsteps silent on the thick carpet. "Please don't be dead," she whispered. After the morning's events, anything was possible. As she neared, she realized it was the frail, young maid who worked there. Ah. Juanita. The underwear thief.
Not dead, but her face appeared gray with fatigue. She had one skinny arm wrapped protectively over her slightly rounded belly.
“Juanita,” she whispered. The young woman's chest rose and fell rhythmically. She was asleep. Probably exhausted. River’s heart ached for this tiny, fragile young woman. Making a living cleaning houses while pregnant, and subjected to the deviant sexual desires of Francisco Xavier, brought out all River's empathy.
She’d bet the girl didn’t enjoy being with Franco. Heat flushed into her cheeks just thinking about that. Anger and empathy. One for the monster, the other for his innocent victim.
A quick glance around the room showed the big bed half made, and a pile of used towels heaped on the floor outside the bathroom door. The poor girl had started to tidy the room, then apparently sat down and fallen asleep.
She hoped.
"Juanita?" River said softly, crouching beside the chair, afraid to touch her in case she scared the crap out of the young woman. No doubt, she’d been scared a lot in her life. Red-rimmed, brown eyes fluttered open. It was clear by the confusion there that, for a moment, Juanita had no idea where she was. Then she jerked upright, a flood of apologetic Spanish falling from her lips
River put a hand on the girl's arm. "It's okay. It's okay," she murmured softly in Spanish. "Stay where you are. Can I get you anything? Water?"
This was followed by another spate of wild-eyed Spanish, almost too fast to understand as Juanita apologized for accidentally falling asleep in River's room. She'd merely come to clean and leave a gift. River got to her feet. "Stay where you are, I'm going to get you some water. Don't move," she warned as the girl started to get up.
Going into the spacious bathroom, River filled a glass with tap water and hurried back. If the “gift” was the underwear the girl had taken and used in Franco's kink room, she really, really was going to lose it. She certainly didn't want it back.
"Sip this slowly," she said, handing the glass to her visitor. "I'm not letting you go until I know you'll be all right."
Juanita burst into silent tears. It was heart wrenching because the tears were so quiet. River was an advocate for noisy sobbing, a lot of pacing, and talking herself out of her misery while she cried. In grief, Juanita resembled a terrified, cornered animal, one with no hope of getting past the despair.
River slid into the big chair with her, wrapping her arms around the far too skinny girl and rocking her gently as she smoothed a hand down Juanita's narrow back. "It's okay. Everything is going to be okay. Trust me."
It took several minutes for Juanita to stop crying, but that was only because, River suspected, the girl was too exhausted to cry more.
River's Spanish wasn't quite up to the task of the words pouring out from the frightened girl. However, she got the gist, and as she did, anger welled up inside her. El Jefe had put the baby in her. El Jefe made her do things that shamed her. Jefe was a monster. He hurt her. Because of Jefe, Juanita was going to hell.
"I promise, you are not going to hell." Francisco Xavier is going to hell, hopefully sooner rather than later. But River would leave that to Ash and his men. "Here's what we're going to do." River brushed Juanita's bangs off her sweaty forehead. "Don't leave this room. You're under my care now. Rest for a little while.” River gripped the girl’s hands. “Yes?"
Juanita gave a slow nod.
“Take a little nap while I grab a quick shower, then I'm taking you away from here."
Untangling herself carefully, River persuaded Juanita to lie down on the unmade bed, covered her with a light throw, and dashed into the bathroom with a change of clothes.
After a quick shower, and changing into a tank-style maxi dress, River returned to her room to find Juanita curled into a little ball in the middle of the bed, fast asleep.
She was safe here for the moment. After drawing the drapes so the sun didn't shine directly over her, River reviewed her limited options.
Number one priority was to remove Juanita from Franco's hacienda. Since Ash was determined to blow up Franco's mountain and possibly half the valley with it, River herself had to leave. Yet keeping Juanita with her until she figured out how to do that wasn't a viable option. The girl would still be under her abuser’s roof.
The only safe place River could think of was with her family, and if they'd gone, with Father Marcus. If there was a way for him to get Juanita, and the rest of the villagers, out of Los Santos, he'd know it. If not, then Ash and his guys would help him figure a way. Marcus could end up being River’s way out, as well.
Grabbing the suitcase she'd packed the night before, River separated a few essentials from the case into her small carry on tote. Juanita would need some clothes wherever she was going. River added most of her cash as well. Juanita would need that, too.
After checking that Juanita still slept, River went into the bathroom to apply makeup and dry her hair. Armed for any impending battle,
she returned to the bedroom to find Juanita still sleeping.
River picked up her phone to see if she had any bars. Nope. Not having the use of her phone was disconcerting. Oliver might be trying to call her, she'd promised her friend Carly she'd call her, and who knew what was happening with her business while she was out of touch.
She inhaled deeply. Being out of contact wasn't the end of the world. She had competent managers and Devon was good at problem solving. Her ex may have been a lousy match for her, but he was a great people person, and an excellent business partner.
Carly would imagine River had run off with a handsome stable master, and wouldn't worry for at least a few more days. By that time, River would be home. Turning off the phone to save battery life, she tucked it into her back pocket, and went to get her book out of her carry on.
Since she wasn't going to leave the room until Juanita woke, she might as well catch up on reading. Juanita slept deeply as River took a delightful trip to Regency England for a couple of hours.
Putting the book aside when Juanita sat up and reached for the glass of water, River rose. "Do you feel a little better?"
Juanita nodded shyly, her face coloring up a little.
"Is there a way to leave the house without anyone seeing us?" she asked in Spanish.
Apparently, there was a servant's door off the kitchen. Perfect.
"Is there anything you want to take with you?"
Juanita shook her head. "My mother—"
"I'll make sure she knows where you are." Franco would certainly search for her in the most obvious place. No going to her family. River wasn't even sure if Juanita's family was around. They might have already left the valley. Father Marcus was her best bet. River suspected he could handle a little lying if it was to protect the innocent.
"Ready to go?"
Juanita threw her legs over the side of the bed, pausing with a worried frown. "Jefe, he wants this baby. He will find me."
"He won't. I promise." It wasn't a false promise. River had resources and wouldn't hesitate to throw a protective net over Juanita and her child. She could certainly use the money given to her by Oliver to secure a good life for them.
