Dangerous Desires

by Dee Davis

  “Di Silva.”

  “Yes, she worked for his organization, and she got in over her head. I stepped in to help. But it was too late. Six months ago she died from an overdose.”

  “God, I’m sorry,” he said, wanting to reach out, to try to comfort her, but knowing firsthand that there was nothing he could do to take away her pain. “No wonder you want to bring down di Silva. You must hate him.”

  “I hate myself more,” she said, her shoulders slumping with the weight of her grief. “I’m the one who deserted her. I’m the one who drove her to drugs. If anyone is responsible for my sister’s death—it’s me.”

  “It doesn’t work like that. I’ve been around enough to know that people can’t be saved unless they want to be. You weren’t responsible for Jenny’s choices.”

  “Yes, I was,” she said, her voice cracking a little. “I promised my mother I’d watch over her. And I didn’t.”

  “You came to Colombia.”

  “It was too late. She was in too deep. And nothing I did was enough. I couldn’t turn back the clock. I couldn’t make it okay.”

  “But you tried. That’s why you agreed to work for di Silva.”

  Her head jerked up, as if she’d only just realized how much she’d revealed. “I told you before, I did what I had to do.” She pushed to her feet, stumbling in the dark as she moved away.

  “I’m not trying to pry, Madeline,” he said, his hands resting on her shoulders as he moved to stand behind her.

  “I know.” She nodded. “And I know I have to tell all of it sometime. But I only just found out that she was dead. And it hurts so goddamned much.”

  He pulled her back against him, wrapping his arms around her. The move was instinctive. He understood her agony. Hell, he shared it. He could feel her tense beneath his touch. And then, with a ragged little sigh, she relaxed against him. They stood for a moment in silence, the physical contact enough. But then she pushed away, turning to face him.

  “I seem to be falling apart on you a lot tonight. I’m sorry. It’s just still so fresh. I found out by accident. Ortiz kept it from me. He knew that if I discovered the truth he wouldn’t have control over me anymore.”

  “Ortiz?” Drake asked, taking her hand and pulling her back to the fire. She dropped down on a boulder, and he moved to sit across from her. “I haven’t heard that name before.”

  “Hector Ortiz,” she clarified, seeming relieved to have moved away from talking about her sister. “He’s di Silva’s number-two man. Although for all practical purposes, he’s really the one running things. It was his idea to expand the organization into dealing arms.”

  “And what did you do for him?”

  “I stole things. From influential men. Information mainly. Details about arms shipments, arms agreements, government research and development,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “Anything that would facilitate access to the weapons and technology Ortiz needed. He, or sometimes di Silva, introduced me to prominent men with the right connections and I used whatever means necessary to gain the materials they required. I’m not proud of what I did. But I did it to help my sister. Ortiz promised that if I worked off her debt, he’d let us go. I should have known he was lying.”

  “And when you found out about Jenny, you contacted the Embassy.”

  She nodded. “Will Richardson. I met him at a function Ortiz took me to. I was supposed to chat up the Chilean ambassador. Anyway, I figured since I’d met him, he might be willing to help.” She frowned, as if considering something, her teeth worrying her lip again.

  “And he agreed?” Drake prompted.

  She nodded, pulling herself from her thoughts. “Yes, but Ortiz was watching me. And he figured out what I was up to.”

  “And killed Richardson.”

  “Another death on my conscience.” Her laughter was brittle. “He was such a nice man. He had a wife and a baby on the way. Did you know that?”

  “You couldn’t have known Ortiz was following you.”

  “I should have. If I’d been paying attention. I know the way he works.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, knowing the words were inadequate. There was nothing he could say that would assuage her guilt. But he wished to hell he’d get a shot at Ortiz. The man was a real piece of work. Preying on people like Jenny and Madeline to advance his own ambition and greed. He clenched his fists, anger rocketing through him with a strength that surprised him.

  “It is what it is,” she said, her voice sharp, her pain reflected in her eyes. “My mother always said that you make your own bed. I guess now it’s time for me to lie in it.” And with the words, her mask slipped firmly back into place, her secrets locked safely away. “Anyway, I think I’ve said more than enough for tonight. I’m tired. And I suspect you’ll want to get going as soon as the sun’s up.”

  He pushed to his feet, reaching over to a stack of mat-sized leaves he’d brought back with the meat. “These should make a fairly comfortable bed. Not exactly four-star, but better than sleeping in the mud.” He fanned them out next to the rocks, under the canopy. “You go ahead. I’ll keep watch.”

  She nodded, pausing for a moment, as if she wanted to say something more. But the mood had been broken, and with a sigh, she said good night and walked over to the improvised bed.

  Drake crossed to the other side of the fire and picked up the gun, then sat down on a large rock, back turned, as Madeline settled in for the night. The fire had died down, coals glowing, so he stirred it with a stick, the flames immediately licking upward again, sending shadows dancing against the ground.

  Out in the dark, he could hear movement, nocturnal animals out looking for a meal. The temperature had dropped—the air almost chilly. It had been a hell of a day. He didn’t even know if his friends had all made it out alive.

  And he sure as hell didn’t know what to make of Madeline Reynard. One moment tough as nails, the next crying in his arms as if her heart had broken.

  Which made her exactly like every other woman.

  Only, somehow—and this was the part that was probably going to keep him up all night—she wasn’t.

  CHAPTER 13

  It seemed as if they had been walking forever. According to her watch, which was iffy at best since their jaunt down the river, it was just after two. Which meant they’d been at it for over half the day.

  There hadn’t been much chitchat, Drake intent on his map and the compass in his watch. Unlike hers his gear was equipped to withstand river racing, which at the end of the day benefited them both. She hadn’t said anything about last night. And neither had he.

  Maybe he was right and her emotional outburst had just been caused by the stress of everything that had happened. But that didn’t explain the way she’d felt this morning, waking to see him sitting next to the fire keeping watch. She wanted to reach out and touch him. Feel his arms around her, his lips against hers. And none of that made any sense at all.

  She’d told him things she’d sworn never to tell anyone. She could blame it on the circumstances. Blame it on the jungle and the dark. But she was afraid it was all about the man. He just inspired trust. Despite the fact that at times he infuriated her, push come to shove, he was a decent man. And she had a feeling that underneath his rough-and-tumble exterior, there was a good heart.

  And inexplicably, the thought frightened her.

  Anyway, at least he’d let it go. Allowed her to regain her tattered dignity. And there’d been moments when she’d thought he’d truly understood. Although that was probably just wishful thinking. After all, they were in this predicament because of her. There’d have been no jungle heart-to-heart if she hadn’t run away.

  But last night, he hadn’t seemed to hold that against her. He’d actually listened. Even talked about himself a little. She smiled, thinking of his talk about baseball and archaeology. And his love for his brother. His dead brother. It might be macabre, but it was a thread of connection. A loss they shared.

  She knew
it couldn’t amount to anything more. She was his charge. Nothing more. And once they were safely out of danger, she’d be on her own again. But for now at least, she was willing to admit that she needed him. Her mind turned again to the memory of their bodies pressed together. If the puma hadn’t attacked…

  She cut herself off with a muffled curse. After everything she’d been through, now was not the time to go soft. Entertaining any thought about personal feelings for Drake Flynn was definitely a mistake. And she’d made too many of those already.

  Pulling her thoughts away from the man in front of her, she focused instead on the jungle. It was getting hotter as they descended toward the Rio Negro and the plain leading to the coast. The monkeys had grown more numerous, their chattering almost becoming white noise as they catapulted through the trees above her head. The birds, on the other hand, had all but disappeared, moving higher up in the canopy, their calls muffled by the heavy vegetation.

  So far the morning had been uneventful. No sign of di Silva’s men. But that didn’t mean they weren’t out there somewhere. Ortiz wasn’t the type to give up easily. And now that his weapons stash had been destroyed, she had no doubt that he was out for blood.

  Principally, hers.

  Which meant that the sooner she disappeared the better. She had no faith whatsoever in the U.S. government’s promise of protection. She was a means to an end. And nothing, not even Drake’s icy blue eyes, was going to persuade her otherwise.

  “How you holding up?” Drake asked, as they stopped for a moment to refill the canteen.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Finally, dry. Although I’m not sure I’ll ever be truly clean again.” She gestured to her mud-spattered face with a grimace. “What I wouldn’t give for a bar of soap and a shower.”

  “I promise you can clean to your heart’s content as soon as we arrive in Puerto Remo.”

  “Is that where we’re going?” She frowned. “I figured we’d head to somewhere bigger. Like Buenaventura.” The coastal town was the largest on Colombia’s Pacific coast. Noted for its frontier mentality, it nevertheless provided its citizens with all the conveniences of a modern city.

  “Too obvious,” Drake said. “Better to keep to the unexpected.”

  “And uninhabitable,” she sighed. Most of the so-called “towns” on the coast were in actuality little more than mud-drenched outposts, many of them without running water or electricity.

  “I wager it’ll be a damn sight better than this.”

  “Point taken,” she acknowledged, taking the canteen from him for a long drink. “Anything beats sleeping on leaves in the mud. Although I’ll admit after yesterday’s adventures, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. I actually slept pretty well, all things considered.”

  “It’s amazing what a little adventure will do for you.” His smile was disarming, especially set against the black shadow of his beard. “You ready?” He screwed the lid on the canteen.

  “How much farther do you think we have to go?”

  “Hard to say for sure.” He shook his head. “We’re kind of short on landmarks around here. But unless I’m way off on my calculations, we should be fairly close to the river. And from there it’s another day’s walk to Puerto Remo.”

  “But you said we might find a boat, right?” The idea of another day in this steamy hot jungle was almost more than she could contemplate.

  “If we’re lucky.”

  “And assuming we are, then how long do you think it’ll be?”

  “There’s a chance we could be in Puerto Remo tonight.”

  “I’ll keep a good thought.” She pasted on a smile, fostering an enthusiasm she most certainly didn’t feel. “Still no sign of di Silva’s men, right?”

  “Nothing so far. But this is a big place. It’s possible we’re paralleling each other.”

  “Comforting thought.”

  “I said it’s possible, but not probable. They’ve no idea which way we went. Other than toward the ocean. And as I said it’s a big area. My guess is they’ll be far more likely to try to intercept us on the coast.”

  “At Buenaventura. Unless they figure out you’re opting for somewhere less likely.”

  “It’s a calculated risk, I know. But it’s the right one under the circumstances. Besides, the coast is dotted with settlements, and there’s no way for di Silva’s men to cover all of them.”

  “So we just pray that they don’t choose ours.”

  “And if they do, we take solace in the fact that we won’t be alone once we get there.”

  “You really believe your people will be waiting?”

  “Yeah, I do. They’ll have to maneuver a bit, considering we weren’t supposed to be in-country in the first place. But Avery will figure out a way. Like I said, if one of us got separated, the plan was always to head for Puerto Remo.”

  Just for a moment, Madeline considered what it would be like to be part of something like his team. To have someone who’d always have her back. Someone who’d care what happened to her no matter what. It was a lovely thought in theory, but in reality, she suspected the price would be too damn high.

  “Well, for both of our sakes,” she said, “I hope they’re there.”

  They set off in silence, the terrain becoming more rugged as they transitioned from mountains to river basin. Two hours later, the ground leveled and the stream, which was more of a river now, widened even further and slowed slightly as if resisting the upcoming merger with the Rio Negro.

  “We must be getting close,” she said.

  “I think it’s just ahead.” Drake nodded, pushing through a stand of tall grass, the prickly edges catching at their clothes.

  “And the outpost?”

  “If memory serves, it should be right at the point where the two rivers join. On the northwest side. But like I said before, the place might not even exist anymore.”

  “Well, the only way to verify for certain is to get there,” Madeline said, pushing ahead of him, suddenly anxious. The prospect of finding a boat and potentially food and some sort of shelter had kept her going all day, and the idea that it might not be there was almost too overwhelming to contemplate.

  “Wait,” Drake said, pulling her back. “We need to be careful. We don’t know what’s up there. Even if the outpost is where it’s supposed to be, we don’t know if it’s occupied, and if so, if the residents will be friendly.”

  She blew out a breath and nodded. He was right. Hell, he was always right. Damn the man. She dropped back to follow as they moved cautiously forward, the stream picking up again as it gave in to the inevitable, the sound of the rushing river filtering through the thick undergrowth.

  And then suddenly, there it was. The Rio Negro, its raging waters swollen by the rains. The smaller river tumbled over a fall of rocks, one last cliff separating the tributary from its parent. Below them, the waters eddied as the two rivers joined, the clear stream dissipating into the mud-blackened Rio Negro.

  “I see it,” Madeline whispered, pitching her voice low to be heard beneath the roar of this newest set of falls. “The outpost. It’s down there.”

  To the right of the converging rivers a silt-covered bank extended from the foot of the cliff, and on its farthest edge, a ramshackle building stood, its weathered walls so overgrown with moss and vines it almost disappeared into the surrounding vegetation.

  “Okay,” Drake said, studying the outpost through his field glasses, “our first order of business is to get down there without alerting anyone inside. Which means we have to find a way to traverse this cliff.”

  “I’m not going over the waterfall,” she insisted, shooting her gaze over to the tumbling water. “Once is most definitely enough.”

  “No.” His lips quirked at the corners. “I’m thinking we’ll try the terra-firma route this time. But we need to make sure they can’t see or hear us making our descent. So we should make our way upriver a little ways, and then look for a way down.”

  She nodded, and follow
ed as he led the way back into the undergrowth. They worked their way northwest until the outpost was safely out of sight. Then, working on a diagonal, they began to move downward. The slope was littered with rocks and scree, and covered with thick black mud. Each step was an effort, either to avoid sliding on the rocks, or slipping in the mud.

  At first there were tufts of some kind of coarse grass, and she used them as vegetative stepping-stones. But about halfway down the grass disappeared, and there was nothing but rocks and mud. Using a stick to balance herself, Madeline kept her eyes trained on the ground immediately in front of her feet, concentrating on every step she took.

  About three-quarters of the way down, she slipped, falling forward, landing on her knees in the muck.

  “You okay?” Drake asked, making his way back up the slope to where she’d fallen.

  “I’m fine,” she hissed, hopping to her feet, her pants plastered with the wet sticky mud. “Couldn’t be better.”

  Frowning, he studied her face, no doubt to reassure himself that she wasn’t going to lose it, and then, with a nod, headed back down again.

  She stood her ground for a moment, cursing Drake, herself, and the world in general, and then resumed her trek downward, this time using the bigger rocks to brace herself against further unwanted tumbles. In what seemed like hours, but was far more likely to have been minutes, she reached the bottom and sighed with relief.

  “So what next?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “We do a little recon.”

  The idea of trudging through more of the black sucking mud held little appeal, but the idea of being left on her own was equally repellent, so she followed as he led the way into the reeds and rushes that bordered the river.

  In truth, she wasn’t sure whether she felt more like laughing or crying. Or, quite frankly, running as fast as she could in the opposite direction, but then she’d already chosen that course with disastrous results. No, the facts were simple—she needed Drake and his somewhat unusual skill set to survive this journey. Once she was back on familiar ground, all bets were off.