Dangerous Desires

by Dee Davis

  “Probably,” Nash said with a frown. “Keep trying. And, in the meantime, I’ll see if I can’t double back and intercept her.”

  “Will do.”

  “Are our transmissions still secure?” Drake asked.

  “Should be,” Hannah said. “It was a secure channel to begin with and I scrambled it just to be safe, so they shouldn’t be able to locate us by signal. But I’d still be careful. We should probably keep chatter to a minimum.”

  “Okay, then,” Drake said, “we’ll see you at the field.”

  “Good luck.” Her voice faded as she signed off, and Madeline looked around the jungle, her exhilaration evaporating with the enormity of what they still faced.

  “I’m off to find my wife,” Nash said, with a quick salute. “We’ll catch up with you guys at the field.”

  “You’ve got the coordinates?” Drake asked.

  “Yes. On my phone. Hannah sent them. I checked.”

  “All right then. We’ll see you when we see you.”

  Nash nodded and then he was gone, the undergrowth swallowing him before he’d managed more than a couple of steps.

  “He’ll be all right, won’t he?” Madeline asked, still staring at the spot where he’d disappeared.

  “Absolutely. We do this kind of thing all the time. Besides, we’re better off moving in smaller groups.”

  She nodded, following Tucker and Drake as they worked their way through the jungle, using the satellite phone’s GPS to keep them on track.

  The canopy here was thinner than it had been coming down out of the ruins, but the trees were still thick and movement was difficult. Several times they had to make detours around outcroppings of rocks or rushing streams. Twice she thought she’d heard something in the brush, but both times it had turned out to be nothing more than an animal foraging. First a monkey and then a bird.

  Finally, she convinced herself to stop worrying. Drake and Tucker were professionals. They knew what to listen for. She just needed to keep putting one foot in front of the other and sooner or later they’d make the clearing and then Hannah and the helicopter would take them away.

  The hard part was over. They’d escaped from the prison. Everything else was a walk in the park—or the jungle, as the case might be. She smothered a laugh, realizing suddenly just how close she was to hysteria. She stopped, leaning over, hands on thighs, gulping in air as if it were ambrosia. Maybe there was a limit to her ability to cope after all.

  If she got out of this in one piece, she was going to take a long vacation—as far away from the tropics as possible. Maybe the Alps. Or London or Paris. Urban was good.

  Again she felt the bubble of laughter. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going anywhere. Except to D.C. And then, if she was lucky, the government would provide protection. Because Ortiz was never going to stop looking for her. Of that much she was certain.

  So, in truth, she was walking from one nightmare into another.

  Some things never changed.

  She sucked in a last long breath, calming her rioting thoughts. Better to stay in the now, if for no other reason than to keep from falling apart. She straightened, focusing on the trail ahead, surprised to find that she was alone.

  Fear blossomed full grown, and she forced herself to stay logical. They couldn’t have gotten that far. And sooner or later they were bound to notice that she was gone. All she had to do was follow their trail of broken leaves and branches and she’d be fine.

  She stopped again, searching the ground for some sign of Drake and Tucker passing this way. How the hell could she have been so stupid? And how in the world had they gotten so far ahead? She hadn’t been distracted that long. At least she didn’t think so.

  Fighting against rising panic, she started forward again, confident when she saw a broken branch that she was heading the right way. What had Hannah said? West of the prison? She glanced up at the canopy, trying to gauge the right direction, but the trees had grown heavier and there was no sign of the sky.

  Moss was supposed to grow on the north side of trees. But this was South America and so wouldn’t that make it the south? Besides, there was moss everywhere, growing indiscriminately. She forged forward, still looking for signs that Drake and Tucker had passed the same way. And then suddenly she stopped, instinct screaming that something was wrong. The jungle had gone quiet, nothing moving. Not a tree, not a bird, nothing.

  She waited, holding her breath, grabbing the gun, trying to tell herself that it was just her imagination. Then the undergrowth in front of her shimmied as something moved closer, a tree gyrating as the brush parted and Drake stepped out of the jungle.

  “Thank God,” she whispered, her gun falling from suddenly lifeless fingers. And then she saw the regret on his face—and the second man.

  “Hello, querida,” Ortiz said, his handsome face breaking into an ugly smile, the gun to Drake’s head explaining everything.

  “I’m so glad you decided to join our little party,” Ortiz said. “Considering you’re the reason we’re all here.” He nodded over to Drake, who was sitting at the base of a tree, just out of earshot, his hands tied behind his back. There was no sign of Tucker, and Madeline prayed that he wasn’t dead.

  Three of di Silva’s men stood watch. A half dozen more lounged by the creek, their idle chatter carrying across the stillness, their guns relaxed but still at the ready.

  Two more men flanked Ortiz as he sat on a rock in the clearing. “Do you have any idea how many of my men are dead because of you?” he asked, peeling an orange as he watched her.

  “Not enough,” she said. “But if you’d just let me go, most of them would still be alive.”

  “They can be replaced,” he said, waving a hand. “You, on the other hand, are one of a kind.” Something in the way he said it made her blood run cold. There was no question that he’d make sure she paid for her betrayal. “I couldn’t possibly let you slip away. You know too much.”

  “So why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?” she asked, indignation supplanting fear.

  “Because I foolishly believed I could keep you under control,” he said, running his thumb over the sharp edge of the knife. “Clearly I should have known better.”

  “So what are you going to do now?” she asked, shooting a glance in Drake’s direction, her heart twisting. Ortiz had kept them separated on the journey back to the clearing, so there hadn’t been a chance to talk. But she knew that given the opportunity, Drake would make a break for it. She just had to figure out if there was a way she could facilitate his move.

  “With Flynn? I haven’t decided. I’ve got friends who might find his particular knowledge quite useful. For the right price.”

  “And if your friends don’t want to deal?”

  “Then I shall take great pleasure in watching your lover die.” He bit into the orange, the juice running down his chin before he wiped it away.

  “He’s not—”

  “Save it. I’ve got sources. And they’re very accurate. How do you think I found you?”

  “Señor Ortiz,” a guard called as he broke through the underbrush outside the line of trees, “I’ve found the other one.” Using his rifle, the man shoved Tucker into the clearing. Drake tried to rise, but one of the guards hit him hard, and he slumped back against the tree, eyes blazing.

  Ortiz rose, his gaze locked on the other man, and Madeline could hear Tucker’s exhalation from where she sat.

  “Son of a bitch,” Tucker said, eyes narrowed as he watched Ortiz.

  “You know him?” Madeline asked, surprise lifting her voice.

  “Yeah.” Tucker nodded, anger flaring. “Hector was part of D-5. Our munitions expert. And, until now, the man I believed was my friend.” A shadow passed across his face as he turned his attention back to Ortiz. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Thought the same about you,” Ortiz said, his Spanish dropping away to reveal a decidedly American accent. “Until I saw that Madeline had your card.”

/>   “You knew?” she asked, still confused by the latest turn of events.

  “Not in the beginning.” He shrugged, his gaze still on Tucker. “If I had, all of this would have been much easier. But after your trip to the Embassy, I needed to be certain that killing Richardson was the end of it.”

  “You’re the reason we were found out,” Tucker said, revulsion washing across his face. “You betrayed your own unit. You betrayed D-5.”

  “Yes,” Ortiz said, still fingering the knife. “I did. And I thought I fixed it so that everyone was dead.”

  “Yeah, well you fucked up. Because it wasn’t just me who made it out alive.”

  “If you’re talking about Lena, then you should be speaking in past tense. It took me five months to run her to ground,” Ortiz said, dropping back down on the rock, his gaze never leaving Tucker. “She was good at evasion. But I’ve always been a hell of a hunter.”

  “You killed her.” Tucker’s hand clenched, his jaw tightening, his eyes filled with grief, and Madeline knew suddenly that this woman was the reason that Tucker hadn’t used his card. “Why?”

  “Same reason I betrayed the rest of you. You were all getting too close to the truth.”

  “That you’d been playing both sides of the equation,” Tucker said.

  “I only ever played one side, actually. Mine. And it was becoming increasingly clear that certain members of D-5 were going to uncover that fact.”

  “So you tipped off the Colombian military. Told them who we were.”

  “Actually it went higher than that. I told a new acquaintance of mine. A very powerful man who wasn’t at all pleased to find the CIA working within FARC.”

  “Our mission was much bigger than that.”

  “Bullshit. It wasn’t anything more than two nations posturing, sacrificing people like us to make their respective points. The world isn’t about making things right, Tucker. It’s about getting ahead. And I grabbed the chance while I had it.”

  “Never mind the consequences,” Tucker spat out. “So what happens now?” He shot a look over at his brother, who was still struggling against his bonds.

  “I was just telling Madeline. I’m thinking of selling your brother. But it might be more fun to just hand the two of you over to one of your enemies. I know a couple of junta leaders that would love to get their hands on the CIA. Of course, I might just kill you both myself.”

  “And what about Madeline?” Behind Tucker, Drake stilled, his gaze turning murderous.

  “She’s a different story altogether.” Ortiz shrugged. “She owes me. And before she dies, I intend to collect. But enough talking.” He signaled the guards flanking Tucker and they dragged him over near Drake, tying his hands.

  Drake half rose, trying to protect his brother, but one of the guards jammed the butt of his rifle into his ribs, knocking him back to the ground.

  “Stop it,” Madeline screamed. “Leave him alone. Leave them both alone.”

  “Two lovers?” Ortiz smiled. “I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you. Brothers, no less.”

  Rage swelled, and she swung at him, but he caught her hand and pulled her hard against his chest, the knife against her throat. “Poor Madeline. You’re always such an easy target.”

  “Let me go.” She stared up at him defiantly. If he was taking her down, she was damn well going to go fighting.

  “Fine.” He released her so suddenly, she stumbled. “But don’t think I’m going to let you off that easily. There’s still a reckoning to be paid. None of this would have happened if you’d simply kept your mouth shut.”

  “You murdered my sister. What the hell did you expect me to do?”

  “I told you I didn’t kill her,” he said, wiping the knife blade against his chinos. “If anyone was responsible, it was you. Always trying to make her believe she could be something better. We are what we are, Madeline. No one gets a second chance. Haven’t you learned that yet?”

  “You’re wrong,” she whispered, her gaze locking on Drake and Tucker. Drake was her second chance. And she was going to fight for it with everything she had.

  “Believe what you want. The truth is still the truth,” Ortiz said, dismissing her as he pushed up off the rock, motioning to his men. “Let’s go. We’ve got ground to cover, and I don’t want to be late.”

  “Where are you taking us?” she asked.

  “To a plane. And from there… well, it’ll just be my little surprise.” He turned away from her then, one of his men forcing her to her feet with the barrel of his gun.

  “Move.” Ortiz’s man shoved her forward, his fingers digging into her arm so tightly she cried out.

  Drake, who was standing now, just off to her left, lunged toward the guard, his eyes still glittering with anger, but the man knocked him back, slamming Drake with his fist. Tears welled as she met Drake’s eyes, remorse making her knees weak, but he shook his head, his lips tipping in a tiny smile. “Plan B,” he mouthed.

  And despite the gravity of the situation, she smiled back. Even if there wasn’t a plan, she loved him for trying to give her hope. And that was it really. The good and the bad of it. She loved him. Completely and absolutely. And she’d be damned if she’d let Ortiz hurt him or Tucker.

  All that remained was figuring out what to do.

  They moved forward in silence, the clearing narrowing as they headed back into the jungle, forcing them to move in single file, Drake and Tucker toward the front, she and her guard bringing up the rear. The sun, just cresting the horizon, had turned the sky a rosy shade of pink. Insects buzzed around her head, and she wondered idly if gnats could carry malaria.

  Then suddenly the reverberation of a gunshot rang through the clearing, the man at her side grabbing his chest as he fell forward. Another shot sounded as guards from the prison swarmed into the clearing.

  Madeline rolled to the ground as bullets hailed from everywhere. Ortiz’s men returned fire, using boulders and trees to give them cover. Her only thought was to get to Drake. He and Tucker were sitting ducks with their hands bound behind their backs.

  Grabbing the dead man’s gun, she ran forward, crouching as low as possible, trying to avoid the worst of the melee. Everywhere there were people fighting, at least two dozen or more. It was impossible to distinguish Ortiz’s men from the guards. Not that it mattered, since neither side offered salvation.

  Ahead of her she could see Drake. He’d managed to free his hands somehow, but he still didn’t have a weapon. He was trying to free Tucker, who’d been pinned underneath a body.

  Shots whizzed past them, and Madeline broke into a full-out run, desperate now to reach them. Ahead she saw Ortiz rise from behind a tree, his eyes moving to Drake as he struggled with Tucker. She saw Ortiz sneer and swivel, pointing his gun at Drake, his finger moving on the trigger.

  She screamed Drake’s name, anger and adrenaline coming together, and she fired the gun. For a moment everything seemed to move in slow motion: Drake finally pulling his brother free. The two of them coming to their feet. The sound of her voice making him turn. The surprise on Ortiz’s face as her bullet ripped through his chest.

  Then suddenly everything sped up again and she was moving, running past Ortiz’s body, Drake cutting the distance between them. She threw herself into his arms, mindless of the fight still going on around them.

  “You’re okay. You’re okay,” she repeated, one hand cupping his face, the other still gripping the gun.

  “I’m good,” he said. “Tucker, too. Thanks to you. But we’ve got to get out of here.” He took the gun and grabbed her hand, the three of them running for the safety of the trees just as the air above them exploded, the thrum of helicopter blades filling the clearing.

  Reversing direction, Drake yelled to Tucker and they headed for the chopper, Madeline struggling to keep up with Drake’s long strides. Then suddenly fire seared through her leg, blood spouting like a crimson chrysanthemum on her jeans. She fell to her knees, the fire intensifying.

 
One of the prison guards rounded on her, leveling his gun, but Drake was faster, his shot hitting the man right between the eyes. And then he was there, scooping her up into his arms, while the ground around them exploded with bullets.

  “You’re going to be all right,” he said, his words almost an order.

  She felt his muscles tense as he launched forward, holding her close as he ran for the chopper. The wind sang against her skin, and she could hear the syncopated beat of the helicopter blades forming a counterrhythm to the sound of gunfire, a gray haze forming at the edges of her vision, the jarring pain in her leg coming in blinding waves.

  She could see the chopper but it seemed so far away. And then it was lifting off, the gunfire coming too close, the threat of crashing more than they could risk. She could see Tucker, too. Leaning out of the back of the helicopter, throwing something to the ground.

  “Hold on tight,” Drake said, one hand underneath her as her arms tightened around his neck, the other reaching for whatever it was that Tucker had thrown.

  And then she felt a jerk and the world seemed to wobble, the two of them rising straight up into the sky. Her pain-racked brain tried to make sense of the sensation, the air rushing fast now, whipping against her cheeks.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, holding on for dear life as her brain finally crawled through the pain to present the answer. They were on a ladder, hanging from the helicopter, and people were still shooting at them.

  Above her the helicopter screeched in protest. She thought they were falling, but then she felt the ladder moving upward, the open hatch coming closer, Nash and Tucker’s worried faces coming into focus as they reached out to pull first her and then Drake into the helicopter.

  Inside, the world was wonderfully quiet and warm. Annie tied a tourniquet around Madeline’s leg and covered her with a blanket, and she tried to stay awake, the gray moving to black as her body fought for rest. “Drake,” she called, the words hardly more than a whisper. “I need Drake.”

  “I’m here, love,” he said, his big hand closing over hers. “I’m right here. You’re going to be all right.” He leaned down, his bright blue eyes staring into hers, willing her to hold on. “The helicopter’s going to get us to a hospital. Just hang on.”