by Dana Marton
What was wrong with him? He was the most cynical man he knew. He could usually smell a trap or a scam from a mile away. But something about her kept sneaking under his defenses.
He rolled to his feet and tore after her, limping, determined not to make the same mistake again. They were both playing with their lives like this, dammit. He couldn’t see her in the darkness—the thick canopy above didn’t let through much moonlight. He fired a warning shot in the general direction where he could hear her moving.
Then he could no longer hear her. Could he have shot her by accident? So much the better. Except part of him didn’t like the idea of Megan Cassidy dead, no matter how much grief she’d caused him. He caught himself. There he went again, thinking stupid thoughts.
He stole forward step by slow step. At last he spotted her figure emerging out of the darkness. She faced him head-on, her legs slightly apart, her gun in both hands, aimed directly at him. A movie-poster combination of dangerous and sexy. She made a fine-looking enemy, he had to give her that.
But he was done letting that affect him. He pointed his own gun right back at her. “Now what?”
“One of us shoots the other and gets what she wants.” Everything about her was cocky, from her stance to her voice.
It turned him on, God help him. But he was a professional. “Juarez will kill Zak if he gets him back,” he said, deciding to reason with her instead of using brute force and threats. He could always fall back on those. Maybe he could appeal to her feminine compassion. “He’s just a kid.”
For a moment she wavered. But only for a moment. “That’s between the two of them.”
All right, so she wasn’t interested in compassion—not that big a surprise. Maybe she was interested in money. “I’ll pay you for him.”
“I’m not after money,” she snapped, as if offended. “Why do you want the two-bit crook? You two business partners? He screwed the big boss over. He’s going to do the same with you.”
He thought for a long moment, trying to figure her out, then decided to take a calculated gamble. “He’s not a two-bit crook, exactly. He’s the son of a U.S. governor.”
That gave her pause. “Which one?”
He told her, and again she wavered.
“The reward would be substantial,” he pushed.
She didn’t even bother to acknowledge that. “So you’re U.S. law enforcement or something.”
He calculated how far they’d come from Zak. Far enough. The kid should be out of hearing distance. “Or something.”
For a second she took her eyes off him to scan the black jungle behind him. Her gun never moved, however. “Where is the rest of your team?”
“Where I come from, we don’t waste a whole team’s time on a quick little job like rescuing a politician’s idiot son.”
She considered him for a long time. “Are you one of Colonel Wilson’s men?”
He went still. Now that was a question he hadn’t expected. Who the hell was she? “How do you know Colonel Wilson?”
The Colonel headed the Special Designation Defense Unit, SDDU, a top-secret team of commando soldiers who ran various secret missions around the globe without anyone knowing. So how did she know?
“You’re not CIA. The FBI never sends just one man. If you were a mercenary, you wouldn’t have helped me. There was no money in it,” she added. “So that didn’t leave much.”
Sound logic. But it didn’t explain how she’d come to know about his team. Very few people knew about the SDDU. A handful of top government officials, and the few FBI and CIA agents who’d done joint missions. Had she?
“Who do you work for?”
She pressed her generous lips into a tight line as she glared at him without saying anything.
“Have you infiltrated Juarez’s band of criminals?” He couldn’t help being a little impressed.
“You’re ruining an undercover op a full year in the making,” she snapped at him. “I need Zak.”
He reported to the Colonel, not to anyone else. “You can’t have him.”
“There’ll be a meeting between Juarez and the big boss, Don Pedro, next week. No outsider has ever been to the don’s secret stronghold before. We know he deals weapons to terrorists from there. I need to know what kind and how much. I need to uncover his connections. These are weapons that could march straight north, across Mexico and then through the U.S. border.”
She was hunting terrorist connections abroad. A CIA spook, then. He should have guessed. She’d ruled out the CIA for him first, because that was her outfit and if he was with them, she would have known it.
He was beginning to understand her better now. She was trusted at Juarez’s camp, but not enough for Juarez to include her in his personal retinue. Except if she did something his other men couldn’t accomplish, like bringing back the kid who’d killed his brother-in-law...
Her plan wasn’t bad. She was working on an important mission. But his orders weren’t to accommodate other important missions he came across. He only had one order from the Colonel: bring the governor’s son back.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. “You’ll find another way.”
But instead of accepting defeat, she shot at his foot, apparently not done with this way yet. A miracle that she hadn’t maimed him. He had no choice but to shoot the gun out of her hand. He did just that, then lunged forward, and they went rolling on the ground again.
“This doesn’t feel like progress.” She had the presence of mind to joke with him, even though her hand must have smarted.
It might not have felt like progress, but it sure felt like one hundred percent pure, curvy female to Mitch. He wouldn’t have minded the prolonged body contact so much if the ground wasn’t full of danger. He couldn’t afford to get injured, and he didn’t want her hurt, either.
“Could we have a civilized discussion about this?” he suggested between a flip and a roll.
“Worried that you can’t win by sheer force alone?” She grunted and heaved.
“Stop.” He pinned her down at last. “You roll into a sharp branch and your mission goes nowhere.”
She gave it another try before she stilled. “Fine. A civilized conversation it is. In the morning.” She blew out a breath. “So you’re an extractor.”
“The extractor. When someone needs a target removed unseen from an impossible situation, I’m the go-to guy.” She might as well know that he wasn’t going to give up or give in to her.
“Do you always get them?”
“Always.” He didn’t compromise.
“It’s that important to you. Interesting.” She gave him a calculating look. “I’m guessing you lost someone close to you at one point?”
A discussion they weren’t going to have. He moved back slowly and let her go, then offered her a hand.
She sprang up on her own and dusted off her clothes. “Just for the record, you called truce first.”
She sauntered off toward her makeshift camp without looking back at him. Unfortunately, not enough moonlight filtered through the canopy for him to fully enjoy that tempting image.
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” she called over her shoulder.
She must have attended some CIA training on how to be thoroughly irritating. But if she thought she was going to be the last spy standing here, she was sadly mistaken.
He headed after her, hoping Zak hadn’t done anything stupid like untying himself and running off into the jungle. They’d had enough excitement for one night.
As luck would have it, the kid was where they’d left him. Mitch checked his restraints and, despite loud demands, left them in place.
“Up,” he ordered next, nudging Megan onto the platform and tying her wrist to the other end the same way she’d tied up Zak. Then he lay between them, snug, his gun resting on his chest, finger on the trigger.
He didn’t like the idea of the other two guns, plus the machete, scattered out there, but he’d have to wait for daylight to look fo
r them and secure them.
“You can’t be serious about this.” Megan snarled the words at him.
He settled into the uncomfortable bed. “Try to get some rest.”
“There’s not enough room,” Zak grumbled. “Untie me now. You can’t treat me like this. I’m the victim here.”
“I could knock you out, if you prefer,” he offered.
“You can’t touch me. You’re getting paid to save me.”
“This is cozy. Think of us as one big happy family,” he told the kid.
Megan turned to her side, jabbing him viciously in the side with her elbow in the process, probably not by accident.
He let it go. Couldn’t be mad at her when they were pressed against each other full-length. She smelled like the rain forest and the cheap soap they’d all used at the guesthouse. Not a combination that would turn the average man’s head, but for some reason it got under his skin.
He shook off the tension that had pushed him forward since she’d left him tied to the sink. Then he grinned into the night as the breeze moved her hair and it tickled his chin. At least, chances were, he was going to have pretty good dreams.
An honest-to-goodness spook, looking like a teenage video gamer’s dream come true. Thank God for small favors. When he’d thought she was a lost suburban housewife, he didn’t know what to do with her. When he’d thought she was a heartless criminal, one of Juarez’s lackeys, he didn’t want anything to do with her. But now that it turned out that they were almost on the same side... Their chance encounter suddenly brimmed with possibilities.
For after.
When they were both done with their missions and back in the U.S., he wouldn’t mind asking her out for a drink. He was ready to sink deeper into that fantasy when he heard something moving in the jungle, circling their small camp.
Megan heard it, too. She went instantly rigid.
So much for a good night’s sleep.
“Give me your gun,” she whispered under her breath.
Not going to happen. But he did reach up and untie her wrist. He had firsthand experience with the kind of damage she could inflict, even unarmed. If they were attacked, she would be far from helpless. That was all he could do for her. He didn’t trust her enough to arm her, at least not until he knew what kind of danger they faced.
He listened.
Four men. He used military hand signals to pass on the news.
She nodded and pointed west.
He slipped from the makeshift bamboo bed and pulled back into the jungle just as the four shadows snuck into the clearing opposite them. They moved forward, then one of them signaled to the others to stop.
Mitch was ready to open fire at the first sign of aggression. He could take them out in a second.
“Is that you, chica? What are you doing here?” the one in the front asked with a voice raspy from too many cigarettes.
“Dammit, Paolo.” She swore an impressive blue streak in Spanish. “Ever heard of giving warning? I almost shot you.”
Megan jumped off the bed, brazen as anything, pretending to shove her nonexistent gun into the waistband at her back. And as dark as the night was, it seemed she managed to fool the others, because nobody called her on it.
If he weren’t careful, he was going to start admiring her or something stupid like that, Mitch thought.
“I’m taking Juarez’s young friend back to him,” she told the men, tossing wood on the fire, looking around surreptitiously.
Paolo checked out the sleeping platform behind her. “We’ve been looking for the bastard all day. We made camp east of here a couple of hours ago. Upwind, or we would have smelled your fire. Heard the shots, though. Figured we better investigate.” He knocked Zak to the ground and took his place.
The kid had to stay where he fell, with the ankle restraint still tethering him to the platform. He couldn’t do much more than squat and look scared.
Paolo patted the bed next to him and flashed a grin at Megan. “How about you come back to bed?”
Mitch took a silent step forward. He wasn’t quite out of cover, but he was close enough to take swift action if needed.
“How about you give up? As I said before, I don’t mix business and pleasure.”
“Give it a try. I promise you’ll like it.” Paolo’s tone took on a menacing edge. There were four of them and one of her. He probably knew that she, too, would have the odds figured. “Come on.”
Mitch stepped into the clearing, not bothering with stealth. He wanted them to see him.
Immediately, four guns pointed at his chest. Four pairs of hard eyes said they wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
“Friends of yours?” he asked Megan as if he’d just gotten back from a bathroom break.
“Who the hell is he?” Paolo came off the bed.
“An old friend.” Megan stepped closer to Mitch. “I knew he was in the area so I called him in for help.”
“The boss don’t like strangers in his business,” Paolo warned her, then turned to Mitch. “Who do you work for?”
“Whoever pays best. Right now, I’m protecting a logging operation north of here.” All logging in the area was illegal, so that should give him the right credentials. “Gun for hire, soldier of fortune, that kind of thing,” he added.
“Which timber boss?” Paolo wanted to know.
Mitch kept his demeanor friendly and his hand close to the weapon tucked into his waistband. “He doesn’t like his name passed around.”
Tense silence stretched between them.
But when Paolo lowered his gun, so did the others. “Forget logging. You’ll come with us. I know a man who pays well and needs some extra muscle.”
And just like that, his chances of getting Zak out of the country swiftly and unnoticed dimmed. Sure, he’d taken on four men in a gunfight before. When he’d been on his own. But if all hell broke loose now, in the dark, Zak or Megan could get killed, and he wasn’t going to take that chance.
Under the smile on his face, his jaw clenched. Instead of taking Zak to safety, he was going to have to stand by as the men took the kid back to the lion’s den.
Megan could have been helpful, but damned if he knew whether he could count on her. She seemed determined to care only about her own mission and nothing else. He had hoped to convince her once morning came, but they weren’t likely to get time alone for that now.
And the balance of power had shifted anyway. The men had played right into her hand.
Regardless, he would get Zak home. With or without her, he thought as he surveyed the drug lord’s lackeys for weaknesses. He never left a mission incomplete.
Chapter Four
By the time morning came, Mitch had a plan. He’d thought about it all night long as he’d slept in spurts squatting by the fire. He could take the men out during their long trek. Getting another look at Juarez’s compound might have provided new intelligence he could pass on to the Colonel, but Megan had already seen the place and had probably passed on all kinds of intel to the CIA. They could deal with Juarez.
His job was to deal with the kid. Which meant he would have to take out Paolo and the others, then turn around and continue north with Zak. He’d call in for military transport the second he could make connection.
Megan Cassidy was welcome to do whatever she pleased. As long as she didn’t stand in his way.
They marched forward silently, in single file. Paolo led the way, with Sanchez, his second in command, behind him. Then came Megan, Zak, Mitch then the other two men.
Mitch reached into the opening of his shirt and plucked a leech from under his collar, slowing his steps as he disposed of the little bloodsucker. He needed to fall to the back of the line. He didn’t like anyone with a weapon behind him.
He made a point of scratching a couple of times before stopping altogether and stepping aside. “Damned leeches in my pants.”
One of the men laughed at him, another winced with sympathy and the rest didn’t bother to respond. N
obody stopped to wait. He messed around with his belt and zipper for a while until they passed him, then he fell in step behind them.
Step one completed.
Yet the setup was far from ideal. Since they were walking single file, he’d have to take out the men in the back first as they blocked sight of the others up front. But if he took out the men in the back, the two in the front would start shooting at him. Which would leave Megan and Zak in the crossfire.
Not that she was a factor. Megan Cassidy was nothing more to him than the possibility of some carnal fun. His unhelpful fascination with her had to stop before it got him in trouble. She could take care of herself. And yet, on some level, he cared. Not because she was another American; God knew he’d been stabbed in the back more than once by his own countrymen. And definitely not because she was CIA. He’d been caught up in their intrigues before. Their wheeling and dealing had once cost the life of a good friend and nearly his, too.
He had allegiance to his country, not to its corrupt systems. He took orders only from the Colonel. He was loyal only to his team. He trusted very few people beyond that circle. Friends outside the job were too much of a risk.
His family thought he was dead. Better that way for everyone. They hadn’t gotten along too well when they’d thought he was alive. This way, his work didn’t put them in danger, and they didn’t get on each other’s nerves.
He was too busy to be lonely.
Except, back when he’d thought Megan was a traumatized tourist he was leading out of the jungle, she’d sure made him wish for... He wasn’t sure what, but an empty little spot suddenly opened up in his chest.
He looked at her as she marched on resolutely and felt a funny kind of tingle on his skin.
Maybe he was getting jungle fever. That would explain why his thoughts were getting jumbled all of a sudden. He wasn’t the type of man who lost his head, and consequently his life, over a pretty woman.
He had a small box of emergency medicine in his backpack, antibiotics and malaria pills among them. He’d take some meds when they next stopped, Mitch decided as he marched forward, watching where he stepped, until sharp cries pulled his attention to the canopy.
