He really wanted to turn away, but she held him with a long, intense gaze. “They’re—”
“¡Hombre!” one of the men shouted from outside. “We should hear the sounds of pleasure! The place should be rocking by now!”
Mark looked toward the rickety door and pulled his gun from the back of his jeans.
Two pounding knocks rattled the door and punctuated the uncomfortable silence in the tiny room.
“What did you tell them?” Laura finally asked in a husky whisper.
“You said you were hot for your mujer,” shouted the male voice from outside. “¿Qué pasa? Can you not get it—”
“I told you to go,” Mark shouted back before the man could finish his sentence.
Laura shifted beside him. “They’re waiting for us to…?”
“Yes,” he said, and looked to see how she reacted to this news.
Her face paled under the glare of the overhead bulb.
“Why did you do this?” she asked, her voice more agitated than before.
Holy shit. She was embarrassed. “I don’t like this either.” But if they wanted to stay out of prison or, hell, stay alive until he could figure out how to get her out of San Mateo, they were going to be forced together. There wouldn’t be time to worry about any shyness or sensibilities she might have. He peeked out the window again.
“Do you let her wear the pants?” one of the men shouted.
Mark cursed. “Get on the bed,” he ordered quietly, his attention outside.
“What? Why—”
“Get on the damn bed,” he repeated without bothering to look at her. He stepped toward the sorry excuse of a bed and pulled back the single cover.
“Can’t we—”
He spun around to face her. “They’re coming in unless we give them what they want—the sounds and motion of sex. That joke of a door won’t stop them. Then our choices will be either to perform for them, or shoot them and run like hell from Ruiz and his paramilitary forces. Which do you prefer?”
From the fury in her eyes, for a single second, he thought she would tell him to shoot them, but she sat.
He jerked his T-shirt up over his head and tossed it on the nothing dresser.
Her gaze paused at the scars on his shoulder, the one on his left side, then shot to his face. She stretched out on the bed.
Eyes locked to hers, he said, “Move over.”
“We can help you ¡hombre! Open the door!” shouted one of the men, emphasizing his words by banging on the door again.
She broke the hold of Mark’s eyes and scooted over, leaving enough room for him to sit. When his weight hit the mattress, the springs creaked and the frame shifted.
He looked over his shoulder and pinned her with his gaze. “I don’t want to do this anymore than you do. But you know damn well you can hear every noise in this dump. Rhythmic movement probably makes the whole place move.”
She made a sound he couldn’t identify. He hoped like hell it was agreement.
He swung his legs up on the bed, his gun in his right hand, but there wasn’t enough room for him to lie down. All it took was one look from him and she shifted onto her side. The thin mattress sank in the middle, rolling her against him.
“¡Apúrate, hombre!” Hurry, the man shouted.
Stretching out, Mark put his right arm around her, then reached over his head with his left, careful not to aggravate his shoulder. He grabbed the thin rails of the skimpy metal headboard and, with his focus on the door, said, “I’m going to push to start the bed rocking. Keep up with me.”
***
Keep up with me. Laura bit her lip at the ominous words. He was a man who took charge. He’d done so at the restaurant, he was doing it here. And again, she would go along. She had no choice because, as much as she wanted to tell him this was ridiculous, she knew he was right. How often had she buried her face in her pillow to keep from hearing the neighbors behind her as they made love? And it made no difference. She could hear everything, every bump of their bed against the wall.
Her eyes moved from the jagged scars on his shoulder to his strong profile. What in the world had made her think she could fool him with…what had he called it? Her sultry Latina act. She’d never had a sultry Latina act, so of course it hadn’t worked. Besides, she was willing to bet very little would fool him.
Then he began moving, clutching the headboard rails, his muscles bunching and relaxing until the bed rocked. She followed his rhythm, her free arm up, her hand on the headboard, pressed so closely to him she could smell him. Clean, like he’d showered before going to the restaurant.
He made a sound, something like a growl, and nodded at her.
She shook her head, not understanding.
He made the sound again and pushed the headboard hard enough that it banged against the wall.
Sound. He wanted sound.
She moaned. It came out like a whimper. She tried again, adding a gasp at the end, then said, “Mm.”
He smiled. When he pulled on the rails again, she was forced to throw her right leg over his thighs to keep her balance. He groaned, a deep rumble she felt against her breasts.
Did he sound like that when he had sex?
Por Dios. What was she thinking?
He turned and looked toward the door. She heard it then. Footsteps, the sound of someone forcing the cheap doorknob. Suddenly he pulled her over himself and shifted the sarong skirt so it spread around their hips. The impact of her bare thighs around his jean-clad hips, of her chest against the hard contours of his hair roughened one, made her squirm against him. But he held her tightly with one arm around her waist, the other on her bottom, his attention on the door. She steadied herself by propping her hands on the mattress on either side of him, afraid to hurt him by touching his scarred left shoulder. The door burst open and Ruiz stood there.
She tried to pull away from the embrace, but Mark held her tightly, unyielding. Her T-shirt had ridden up so his right arm rested against the bare skin of her back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he held his gun in that hand, aimed straight at Ruiz.
“You have a way of stopping a man,” he said to Ruiz.
“My men were worried you could not do your duty by your mujer,” Ruiz replied with a laugh. His gaze ran up her bare leg to the hitched up skirt, to Mark’s hand pressing her to him. Laura cringed at the picture they presented, her skirt tenting their hips.
“I see this is not the case,” Ruiz continued.
“Never interrupt me with my woman,” Mark said, his voice flat and cold.
Ruiz smiled. “You should get a better lock ¿no?” He backed down one of the rickety steps and gave Laura’s leg another appraising look. “I will be at my table. When you finish, we will talk. Bring your woman. She is a pleasure to the eyes.” He pulled the door closed behind him.
In the moments that followed, in the tense silence of the tiny room, Laura pushed herself up on arms wobbly with reaction. Her thoughts ran from the horror of what could have happened, to the act they had pretended, to a full appreciation of their position. Beneath her, she felt Mark relax and move his gun-heavy arm off her back.
He shifted as if trying to get up. The movement unbalanced her. He steadied her and she met his gaze.
A throb of desire appalled her. She felt scorched. Scorched by her reaction to the sheer and obvious masculinity of him. She wanted a total stranger.
And Mark wanted her. The change in his body made it obvious. Very obvious. The light touch of his hand on the bare skin of her lower back sent a jolt of heat to her breasts. Unexpected and unwanted. So not why she was here.
She rolled to his side, trapped between him and the wall. How could she let something so irrelevant divert her focus from her child?
“I didn’t mean for—” He cut himself off, his golden brown eyes gentler, as if he were suddenly not as sure of himself.
She couldn’t blame him. She’d let her imagination take hold. He had to have noticed. What could she say? It�
�s been too long? “I, um…”
“It’s a reaction. Adrenaline and stimula—” He stopped himself again. “I’m sorry.,” he said with a sigh. “Just move away.”
It seemed like any attempt would simply make things worse. But she did as he asked, scrambling off the indented mattress, trying to avoid any more contact than necessary. When she stood, her skirt slid down her legs, the light cotton suddenly heavy on her sensitized skin.
Behind her she heard him take a deep breath and mutter, “Damn.”
The single word reverberated through her. Damn? He thought he had problems?
How in God’s name was she going to get rid of him?
***
That had worked out just fine. Great.
Shit.
Half his blood had rushed south. Jesus! Good thing she’d pulled back when she did.
He couldn’t think of a single thing to say except I’m sorry and he’d already said that. He’d be damned if he’d say it again. Wasn’t this just rich? He’d gotten hard from a damn act. With Laura Iglesias.
Laura Iglesias, for God’s sake.
Why the hell hadn’t someone told him she was in Puerto Escondido? The intel he’d been given said the families of most, if not all, of those opposed to Ruiz were safely out of the country Yes, Laura’s father was in hiding, but his officers, well trained by American intelligence, should have passed this little gem on to him when he first arrived in-country. Maybe they told Langley, which was full of closed-mouth bastards. He understood the need for secrecy, but what the hell were they thinking sending him here without at least a heads up?
Unless they didn’t know. Maybe the San Matean agent who’d infiltrated Ruiz’s circle hadn’t seen her yet. Or he hadn’t recognized her. Maybe he had and hadn’t gotten the word out. Or he didn’t trust his contact. Yeah, trust wasn’t something Mark was big on either. He had a rogue CIA officer to thank for the injury that sidelined him for nearly a year.
But last year’s fiasco paled when compared to what happened four years ago.
And here Mark lay, hard because of a ruse designed to fool one of the most dangerous men in San Mateo.
He sat up to hide his erection and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. When he looked up, she’d turned away and was taking his shirt from the dresser where he’d thrown it.
“You must go,” she said as she handed him the shirt.
She was something. He had a hard-on and she was just fine. Like ice-water ran in her veins. Maybe it did. But it hadn’t been just him. No way. He’d recognized the momentary give in her body, the look in her eyes. She simply had the ability to focus more than he did. And wasn’t that fucking awesome?
“We’ve been through this. I’m not leaving without you.”
“Then we’ll both die,” she snapped. “He’ll be looking for two people. If we go separately—”
“No.”
“If Ruiz finds out that you’re my father’s man, he will kill you.”
Herrera hadn’t hired him, though if Ruiz found out who he did worked for, he’d be dead in a nanosecond. “Ruiz is more likely to find out who you are,” he countered.
“If that were so, I would already be under arrest. He’s never met me. The picture in the papers is an old one from the society pages when my hair was short. I don’t look like that now. Besides, to him, I’m nothing. Only a servant. He’ll never recognize me.”
The spark of an accent was creeping back in, but there was no sultry Latina this time. Just a very anxious woman. Something else going on here, but he wasn’t seeing it.
Pounding on the door made them both turn. Mark bolted to his feet.
“Hombre, Don Ernesto wants you now. Come to the restaurant,” one of Ruiz’s men said from outside. “We are to take you.”
She looked up at Mark and whispered. “What are you going to do?”
He considered grabbing her and getting the hell away, the inherent pursuit a chance he would take and explain as a matter of necessity. But the truck he’d hidden was over five klicks away. He couldn’t expect her to run that far that fast. Especially if she wasn’t cooperative.
“We are going to meet with him.”
She shook her head.
“Look. There’s no choice. You know there’s no choice. If we don’t show, he’s going to be suspicious. You can’t stay here alone. Ruiz is too interested right now to let either of us get away. This is his town. He has too many people loyal to him here. We have to play along.”
“I’ll wait for you,” she replied, her mouth set in a firm line.
“You’re safer with me. I don’t trust him not to send his goons for you.”
She took a breath, chewed on her lower lip, and after what seemed like an eternity, finally said, “Okay.”
“Let’s get it over with.”
“I want to change. I don’t want Ruiz to see me in this.” She indicated the sarong skirt.
Of course she didn’t want the old bastard to see her in that skirt, not after what they’d just pretended.
“He’s going to look at us with some…fascination,” he warned, wanting her to be prepared.
“You mean lechery,” she corrected.
“He’s going to believe we just—”
She cut him off. “I know.”
Her reluctance to talk about what had happened between them reined in his frustration. “Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” she replied, her tone firm and determined.
Now that was curious. He would expect reluctance. Something was definitely going on. He couldn’t banish the niggling suspicion that she’d specifically targeted Puerto Escondido, Ernesto Ruiz’s base of operations. Yes, her father and Ruiz were long-time enemies, that was clear in the dossier he’d read at Langley. Herrera held Ruiz responsible for his only son’s death and had been outspoken in his opposition to the ex-general.
In the past few months, Ruiz had started a campaign of rumor and innuendo against top politicians, especially her father. That resulted in false charges of treason and led to Herrera’s, and her, need to hide. But what could she hope to do about any of that? Talk to Ruiz? Slapping him sure as hell hadn’t been a good approach.
She changed while he kept his back turned and tried to ignore the sounds of clothing brushing against bare flesh. He quashed the fantasy mid-thought. He had to get rid of their watchers. But how in a town owned by Ruiz?
“I’m ready,” she said finally.
Mark turned. She’d changed into jeans.
“Vamos, hombre,” came the voice from outside, followed by pounding on the door.
She flinched, her arms wound tight around her stomach.
Of course she was scared. This was so far from the life she led that she had to be.
“Ruiz won’t hurt you as long as he thinks he can use me.” At least he hoped his instincts on that were right. Then, because she needed the reassurance, he added, “We will pull this off.”
Chapter Three
As Ruiz’s men led the way back to the restaurant, Laura steeled herself to act the part of Mark’s wife in front of Ruiz. ¡Por Dios! She had no choice but to continue this charade, but she had to plan her next moves. She couldn’t afford to think of anything but Tony. He was all that mattered.
Mark was nothing more than a stranger who’d crossed her path, not someone she could count on. There had been no one she could count on, not since her mother died of cancer. Shortly after that, her brother and then her husband were killed in action, leaving her to cope with her father’s unrelenting focus on Ruiz.
For a man like Mark, this was normal; this was how he lived his life, on the edge of danger. That had been obvious from the first time she saw him. He’d saved her from Ruiz, but she couldn’t count on someone so impulsive, someone who jumped into the thick of things to protect anyone. Men like that had short lives. Her husband and brother were proof of that. The world didn’t need another dead hero.
She considered the little she knew about Mark. Nothing really. He might have helped her, but stopping Ruiz from harassing her was more than likely his way of showing his strength to the ex-general, a way into his circle in order to complete his mission for her father’s intelligence agency. He didn’t know about Tony, or he would have said so.
His English labeled him an American, but he spoke Spanish like an Argentinean. Probably a mercenary with no loyalties to anything except the money he could earn. Only he didn’t act like a mercenary, not that she had any idea how one acted and, as far as she knew, her father had never hired one.
“Just let me do the talking,” Mark said as they stood on the front steps of the restaurant. He pulled her close and whispered in her ear. “To Ruiz, I’m Juan Marcos.”
Was he? Or was he really named Mark, no last name given? At this point, what difference did it make?
She nodded against his shoulder.
Inside the restaurant, tourists and vacationers packed the stools along the scarred wooden bar. The room-length mirror behind it made the place look both bigger and more crowded than it was. Ruiz, surrounded by several men, held court at a central table, one of his bodyguards close by. The people of Puerto Escondido knew of his power and saw the need to pay homage.
Laura wanted to turn and run. She was hopeless, for all her brave intentions. The only thing keeping her here was the knowledge that her son was so close. That, and Mark’s strong anchoring presence, his arm across her shoulders.
Ruiz spied them almost instantly. He smiled, that cold predatory smile, letting his gaze barely flicker over her before nodding at the guards who’d escorted them. The two pushed their way through a cluster of people to a back room, leaving her and Mark to wait while they went in.
Mark pulled her hand up, and before she could figure out what he was doing, kissed her knuckles. Surprised, she jerked her attention toward him.
“Don’t flinch from me,” he warned, a lover’s smile on his perfect lips. “Ruiz must see us as a couple, comfortable with each other.”
A couple. Yes. With Mark here, Ruiz would not dare try what he did before.
Whatever it Takes (Shadow Heroes Book 4) Page 3
