by Dana Marton
“Something tells me you’ve survived worse.”
Then he was close enough and he lunged. He’d meant to take her to the ground and wrestle the gun away from her, but she twisted at the last second and her back ended up slamming against the nearest tree. He was holding her gun hand up, pressing his body hard against hers to hold her still.
They were nose to nose, gazes clashing.
Her breath came in quick, hot spurts, her breasts pressing against his chest. He was so focused on that sensation that a second passed before he became aware of the sharp object in his back.
Her free hand was holding a small knife. Where had she been hiding that? He’d thought he’d already seen all her weapons.
“Let me go.” She squirmed.
His body responded predictably.
Her eyes went wide. Then she gave a pained smile. “Look who doesn’t need a banana spider.”
Damn straight.
He kissed her, more to annoy her than to seduce her. The time and place wasn’t exactly right for that, although, if they met again under different circumstances, he was going to revisit that option.
The knife pressed harder between his ribs. Her knee came up…stopped. Then went down. The pressure of the knife lessened, then disappeared.
Next thing he knew, she was kissing him back. Her lips went from resisting to softening to demanding in a heartbeat. He let go of her gun hand so he could palm her breasts. They fit his hands perfectly.
Hard heat suffused his body. And need.
His head was spinning with it.
Something cold pressing against his forehead brought him back to his senses. And after a dazed moment he realized that she was now holding the gun to his temple while the tip of her knife was at his side now, just a few inches from his heart.
“Reach behind you, slowly, pull out your gun and toss it into the woods,” she ordered him.
She was so good. He found it difficult to be mad at her for that. There was such a thing as admiring a worthy enemy.
He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. Instead of the triumph he’d expected, he found only desperation in her gaze. Odd. He would have, at the very least, expected her to rub his defeat in his face. She did seem to enjoy watching him suffer.
“What’s wrong?” He tried not to look at her swollen lips.
“You,” she said without hesitation. “You shouldn’t be here. There’s no way for this to end well. If I want Zak, I’m going to have to hurt you.”
“I’m not letting Zak go. He’s my mission. I don’t leave a mission incomplete. If you want to take him you’re going to have to do more than hurt me. You’re going to have to kill me.” He took a big step back and went for his gun.
They faced off, both knowing there was no chance either of them would miss from this distance. It bothered him more than it should have, that’s for sure.
“Come with me,” he offered suddenly, surprised to hear the words come out. But once they were, he went with them. “To hell with the CIA. This is a suicide mission. Juarez will figure out who you are sooner or later. If this is the kind of work you want to do, we’ll talk to Colonel Wilson.”
She looked away for a second, blinked hard. “I need to do this. For my own reasons. This goes beyond the CIA.”
That had his mind scrambling. “You’re a double agent?” He shouldn’t have been surprised. She was nothing if not full of surprises. But hell, he hadn’t seen this coming. “You work for Cristobal?”
“I have a private mission. In addition to the official one. Nothing to do with any of the crime lords in the district.”
So she hadn’t gone completely rogue. Good. He wasn’t sure how that would have influenced his decision. “Love, revenge or money?” he tried to narrow it down.
“I’m here for someone.”
Love then. The thought caused an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. He hated the idea of her risking her life for a man. He hated the idea of her caring about another man that much.
Stupid.
She wasn’t his.
But he wanted her to be, he realized now. Wanted her for more than a quick adventure. But it isn’t going to happen. The resolution didn’t make him hate the idea of another man any less, unfortunately. “Is he worth dying for?”
“I have no intention of dying. Come with me.” She turned his offer on him. “All I need is three days. I need to go to Don Pedro’s lair and get my brother. Then we grab Zak and we’re out of there.”
Brother. A knot relaxed deep inside him.
“What’s he doing with the Don?” Hopefully his motives for being here were less misguided than Zak’s.
“He works for the DEA. He was injured on his first international mission and disappeared. For the longest time we thought he was dead. Then there was a snippet of intel that Don Pedro was holding someone who fits his description.” Her face transformed as she talked, her features softening as she spoke about her brother, then hardened again. “I’m not going home without Billy.”
“And the CIA has no idea why you’re really here.” They wouldn’t be amused when they found out. They liked to have their agents’ full attention and loyalty. Undivided.
She shook her head.
He thought it over. “The man they’re talking about, he might not be your brother.”
Hurt flashed across her face. “I know he is. I can’t explain how I know, but I do.” She sounded defiant and at the same time desperate for him to believe her.
“Juarez might not take you.”
“I’ll find a way.”
“You’re asking me to risk this life—” he pointed at Zak “—for some cowboy mission that has a chance in a thousand of succeeding.”
Her amber eyes held his. “Three days.”
Part of him would have given her anything when she looked at him like that. But the trained soldier inside him knew better. “I can’t.”
“Do you have a brother?”
“My family has nothing to do with this.” He didn’t talk about his family. He didn’t even think of them if he could help it. Except Cindy—who was lost to him.
“You come with me. I’ll vouch for you with Juarez. You’ll stay at the compound and make sure nothing happens to Zak. As soon as we’re off to the meeting, you grab him and take him home. I’m not asking you to abandon your mission. I’m only asking for a brief delay.”
He tried to think. He knew what he had to do. Trouble was, it wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted to help her. But before he could come to a decision, noises reached them from the jungle.
He lifted a hand, silencing her. A group of men were stomping through the woods, talking and swearing. Not entirely unexpected since they were a half day’s walk from Juarez’s camp. There would be some traffic.
They came closer and closer, until nothing separated them from Mitch but a dense stand of bamboo. He stood motionless, barely breathing as he listened to their bragging and banter. They were on their way back, having collected debts from the villages upriver. From the way they were talking, Mitch felt sorry for the villagers.
With a little luck, they would pass right by. The vegetation was thick, visibility terrible. Both Megan and he were dressed in clothes that blended into the jungle. They both stood stock-still.
The men reached them, then passed by.
“Who the hell are they?” Zak asked from his makeshift bed, awakening at the worst possible moment.
All movement halted immediately. The men stopped talking.
A branch snapped. Then another. They were spreading out.
Mitch pulled back, gun in hand, his blood boiling with frustration. He and Megan took a protective stance, the two of them making sure they had Zak covered. Like a team. Keeping Zak safe was still his number one objective. He had to remind himself of that. Because, at the moment, all he wanted was to shoot the twit.
Chapter Six
They were surrounded in minutes. Then ominous silence settled over the area once again. Megan’s fi
ngers twitched on the trigger.
Suddenly, she spotted movement to her right.
She swung that way.
“Que pasa, chica?” A tall, Creole man stepped from cover first. Umberto. He was one of the oldest men on Juarez’s team. “Everything okay here?”
Megan made herself lower her weapon and put a smile on her face that she hoped looked real. “We’re on our way back.”
Since Umberto hadn’t been in camp when Zak broke out, she relayed how the kid had some trouble with Juarez and ran away into the jungle, then how she’d hooked up with Mitch, her mercenary friend, for some help.
As she spoke, nine other men came forward, their rifles slung on their shoulders. They took their cue from Umberto, and Umberto took her at her word. She’d known him for a year, and had a surreal kind of friendship going with him—or as much as you can make friends with an enemy you knew you might someday have to shoot.
She’d first shown up at the Juarez camp bringing a delivery from a Miami connection, and after a few days she’d mentioned that she wouldn’t mind staying. Most of the men had wanted nothing to do with her. They were used to women working in the camp’s cantina, not meddling in serious business. Umberto had taken her under his wing and protected her while the meanest of the bunch had challenged her and worked at making every waking minute of her life miserable.
Months passed before her antagonists realized that she’d never quit. If they wanted her gone, they’d have to kill her. Her tenacity eventually earned her some respect. But it was Umberto’s protection and Juarez’s favor that saved her. Apparently, Juarez had some issues with his Miami connection in the past, and having her leave the man for him pleased the boss on some level.
“How about some maté?” Umberto offered. When people met up in the jungle, it was traditional to sit down with a cup of the herbal drink and talk a little.
Would he be suspicious if she said no? She had to take that chance.
“Gracias, amigo, but I’d rather get going. Wouldn’t mind sleeping in my own bunk tonight.” She glanced at Mitch. His facial expression remained neutral, but his tense muscles said the situation didn’t please him.
They needed to get back to camp as soon as possible, before he attacked Umberto and the others and put everything, including their lives, in jeopardy. Or kissed her again, God forbid. Her lips were still tingling. What was that about? And did she kiss him back? No way. She’d swooned from hunger and leaned against him for support. That was her story and she was sticking to it.
Umberto gave her an indulgent smile, oblivious to her internal turmoil. “Can’t say I don’t feel the same. These old bones…” He shook his head, then headed back to the trail with his usual lumbering gait. “Vamos then, chica. Vamos, hombres.”
Mitch shot her a hard look. He was here on a valid mission, saving a life. She would have helped him if she could have. She didn’t want Zak, or anyone else, to come to harm. But more than that, she wanted to save her brother. Zak had to make it back to camp. She wasn’t going to sacrifice her brother’s life for a spoiled little wannabe drug dealer, no matter what state his father governed.
The kid had been quiet so far, but now he spoke up, stubborn rebellion written all over his face. “No.”
“Keep moving.” She shoved him forward. He seemed to fail to realize that keeping his head down was the best strategy for him. He didn’t grasp the fact that the vast majority of the people present would just as soon shoot him as look at him. Which he proved yet again when he turned to Umberto and said, “Listen, man. I have money.”
Umberto laughed as he looked back and gave the kid the once-over, taking in the dirty, torn clothes and sneakers that had seen better days.
“My father is the governor of Kansas.”
The few men who spoke English openly laughed at that.
“This man—” Zak pointed at Mitch, fury creeping onto his face “—took money from my father to save me. He was supposed to get me out of here. He betrayed me. Take me home and the money is yours. A million dollars.”
Megan shot Mitch a questioning look. A million?
But he just rolled his eyes. Okay, so the kid was overestimating his worth. Still, she wondered how big a role money played in Mitch’s motives. Was he really more mercenary than soldier? What did she know about the SDDU anyway? Her oldest brother, Jamie, sure didn’t answer any of her questions. For a second she wondered how he was coping, how his injury was healing. The worst part of being here was not getting any news about her family back home.
Soon. All she had to do was get out of here alive with Billy.
And at the moment, the key to that was convincing Umberto that everything was fine here so they could hurry back to camp. The man was looking Mitch over carefully.
Mitch didn’t even blink. “I think our little boy is homesick.” His voice filled with disdain and sarcasm.
Some of the others sneered at Zak.
Umberto turned to Megan. “What disagreement did the boss have with this chico?”
She shrugged. “Something to do with business.”
“He’ll slow us down.”
Meaning they should kill him here.
“The idiot shot Enrique on his way out.” Megan stepped closer to Zak. “The boss will want him.”
The man’s gray eyebrows lifted, then he gave a slow nod. “Can’t say I ever liked Enrique.” He murmured something that sounded like “rabid coyote” and spat onto the ground.
“Forget it, chico,” he told Zak. “Even if your father was el presidente and he offered the White House for you…” He made a dismissing gesture with his hand.
“You have no idea how much money my father has.” Zak moved closer, then stopped when Umberto’s gun rose. “You could retire.”
Megan held her breath, and made sure her hand was close enough to her weapon to draw. From the corner of her eye she saw Mitch positioning himself, too.
Umberto shook his head.
Mitch relaxed and yanked the kid’s hands back to tie them at the wrist, holding the end of the rope. “You should have read the career brochure more carefully. There is no retirement from this business.”
He kept Zak close. Good. He’d make sure the kid didn’t do anything worse than running off at the mouth. If Zak tried to make a run for it, no way could she hold the men back from mowing him down.
Umberto’s gaze shifted between them, settling on Mitch. “He’s all right?” he asked Megan, his gun still raised.
Her heart rate sped. Juarez would demand Zak, which provided the kid with some protection. Mitch, on the other hand, was expendable. If Umberto wasn’t sure Mitch could be trusted, he wouldn’t risk it.
Mitch stood still, his stance relaxed, even though he knew his fate was being decided. He gave her a flat smile.
A stone-cold operator would have viewed him as nothing but an obstacle and used this chance to get rid of him. She found she couldn’t do it. Not even for her brother.
“I’ve known him since we were kids,” she lied. “I vouch for him.”
Umberto lowered his gun at last, then started back down the trail. The men fell in line behind him.
Mitch angled for the last spot in the line.
It gave her a bad feeling. She made sure to walk next to him, keeping Zak in front of them.
“Three days,” she whispered under her breath.
Mitch didn’t say anything back. His muscles were taut once again, his lips pressed together. She tried not to think about how they’d felt against hers minutes earlier. It didn’t matter, because they wouldn’t be kissing again.
There was no reason at all why that thought should make her sad, but it did.
They marched on at a comfortable pace, keeping an eye on the jungle, ready for its dangers. They were all seasoned jungle trekkers, save Zak who paid attention to little beyond his own complaining. Soon a breeze picked up, which moved the air around and cleared out the humidity a little. Her stomach growled. She ignored it.
She’d
gotten used to going hungry in the past year. Supplies didn’t always arrive to the remote camp on time, and Juarez’s men weren’t particularly skillful at hunting. They could shoot, but they had trouble finding and tracking game. They didn’t know the animals well enough to use their habits to help the hunt, couldn’t move through the woods nearly as silently as the villagers.
She didn’t worry about her hunger. She was just grateful she had enough water. Not that she drank a lot. She wanted to keep bathroom breaks to a minimum, concerned that Mitch might try something if she fell back.
They marched on without taking any breaks. The closer they got to camp, the wider the trail got so at least the going was getting easier. Even so, Zak did slow them down. She and Mitch did their best to nudge the kid along, before Umberto could get impatient.
When the kid stumbled and she reached to hold him up, she bumped into Mitch. They pulled back simultaneously, the tension between them obvious. Good thing they were bringing up the rear, out of sight of the others.
“Three days,” she whispered. It was becoming her mantra.
He shook his head.
The rain started up again, a more serious downpour this time.
No sense in stopping to wait. Rain here could go on for days. They were all used to it, and simply put on their hats. Mitch gave his to Zak, then twisted a banana leaf into a handy cone for his own head.
He didn’t speak, so she, too, stayed silent as she trekked forward resolutely.
“It’s the most logical course of action,” she told him when she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. Maybe he’d come to see her point and even help her.
But his response ended that fantasy quickly. “This is not over.”
MITCH CHECKED OUT Juarez’s camp. It had been built on the ruins of an old Jesuit mission. He leaned against the open door of the shed he’d been assigned for the night. He couldn’t see much in the dark, but he was familiar with the layout. He’d spent days on recon the first time around, putting together a plan to get Zak out unseen. But before he could have made his well-calculated move, the kid had decided to shoot his way out, messing up everything.
