Geils nodded. "Stay here, with me. I'm not a man who often indulges in his carnal desires or allows others to witness them. But I lost it the moment I laid eyes on you. I'd very much like you as part of our team, and being a detective, you certainly have skills we can use."
"How can you trust me not to run the first chance I get?" Carson asked, curious in spite of himself.
"You'd be watched for a while, of course. But in this business, there comes a moment when there's no turning back and you'd be in as deep as we are."
"Meaning I would be stuck with you," Carson retorted sarcastically. "I assume there would be other... duties I'd be required to perform for you?"
Geils didn't pretend to misunderstand. "My bedroll has been empty for a very long time, Carson. Perhaps I'm not what you consider appealing, but I'm sure you'll come to enjoy my touch in time, and I promise never to hurt you. Not unless you give me cause to."
Carson pretended to think about it, while in reality attempting to discover a solution to his plight. There was no way in hell he was going to become a mercenary, and worse, Geils' plaything, but he was in deep water. Bruce had been the one with the money, the one who had offered to pay for the vacation. Carson was stuck in Jawara without a penny to his name and no way back home.
Okay, so he had a little money set aside in the bank, and he could always use his ATM or credit cards to pay his way out of Jawara; providing of course, that he could get his wallet back. But he didn't really want to use that money, not unless he really had to. Being a private investigator, and working alone, there was no telling when a serious injury might render him incapacitated for an undetermined period of time. He would have to find another way.
Still, first things first.
"All right," he finally said. "It's not like I have any choice, and I value my life."
"Excellent!" Geils jumped up from his chair, taking hold of Carson's arm and pulling him to his feet. "You won't regret this, Carson, I promise," he assured him, just before his mouth came down on Carson's.
Carson forced himself to respond to the hard and demanding kiss, parting his lips. An idea suddenly sprang to mind. Making sure Geils had his eyes closed, he reached for the battery lamp sitting on the table, his lips never losing contact with the other man's. When the lamp was firmly gripped in his hand, he slammed it against Geils' head, grinning as the man crumpled to the ground in an untidy heap.
"Serves you right, you disgusting bastard," he muttered, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, wanting to be rid of Geils' foul taste.
Fearful the others might have heard something, Carson peered outside, but the mercenaries were still sitting by the fire, sharing a bottle of whiskey. With luck, they would drink themselves into an alcoholic stupor, allowing him to steal one of the jeeps and get the hell out of here.
But before he did that, he had to make certain Geils wouldn't make any noise. Checking to make sure he hadn't killed the man, he rummaged in the backpacks, wanting to see if Geils had anything of use. He did find rope and a piece of cloth, which he used to bind and gag Geils. He also found his wallet amongst Geils' things. He checked its contents, relieved when he noticed nothing was missing. Sitting down near the tent's entrance, Carson set out to wait until the other three were out of commission.
# # #
Bloom was the first to drop, then Benzin, and finally Collins. Obviously his larger build made him more resistant to alcohol. Carson waited until he was certain they had passed out before slowly crawling out of the tent, towards the nearest jeep. He reached it without a hitch, only to realize there was no key in the ignition.
Fiercely glad he had learned how to hotwire a car in the army, he spent precious seconds doing just that, mindful of the drunken men snoring by the fire. He sighed with relief as the vehicle purred to life, then set the headlights to maximum.
Bloom staggered abruptly out of the darkness and into the bright gleam of the headlights, his machine gun in one hand, while the other tried to hold up his pants. He had probably woken up with a full bladder and seen Carson trying to make his escape.
"Stop!" Bloom slurred, swaying dangerously.
"Get out of the way!" Carson retorted, having no intention of surrendering now.
"No, you stop!" Bloom said, trying to adjust his aim.
"Fine." Carson stepped on the gas pedal, purposely hitting Bloom. The impact flung the man into the air. He landed on the jeep's windshield before sliding off the car to the ground.
Carson didn't stop to see if Bloom was still alive; he kept driving through the tangled thicket, holding the wheel in a white-knuckled grip as he prayed he wouldn't hit a tree or any of the night creatures he glimpsed occasionally as he sped by. Luck must have been on his side, for he kept going steadily, making good time, getting further and further away from Geils' camp.
Realizing the gas tank was running low, Carson risked a brief stop to search the back of the jeep for gas cans. There weren't any. He would just have to keep driving until the tank ran empty and pray for a miracle.
It was dawn when the jeep finally made a sputtering noise and halted. Carson got out of the vehicle and glared at it, as if willing it to start again. Now, what?
# # #
Chapter Two
Jack MacKenzie finished drinking his coffee while his team broke up camp, placing all their gear in the two battered down jeeps they owned. They had been scouting the area for days now, looking for any sign of Geils and his men, but it was a big jungle and the mercenary was too wily to get caught that easily. It was time for Jack and his people to return to their base camp with the Durak tribe and rest for a while.
"You okay, ol' dog?"
Jack looked at Roger, hiding a smile at his friend's concerned frown. He had known Roger Miles for almost as long as he could remember. They had met in kindergarten and had become inseparable ever since, even joining the Navy Seals together.
The decision to become mercenaries and make their fortune overseas had seemed a good one after five years with the Seals. At least until they realized how difficult it was to find legitimate offers that didn't involve smuggling diamonds, drugs, or turning slavers. This job was their last chance. Not so much to make their fortune. As far as Jack was concerned, that wasn't going to happen. But maybe they had finally found their way, their purpose in life.
The others he only knew for a little over a year, but he was still proud to call them friends. More importantly, he trusted them implicitly. His gaze fell on Vivian Anderson, their guide and tracker. Having her parents dying at a young age, and being raised by a local tribe, she had her own set of rules and very little regard for what society thought was right.
As for Jackie Trent, she was a military brat, having lived in so many countries while growing up that she could speak half a dozen languages. Not to mention being able to drive or fly just about any vehicle or plane known to man. She could be a chatterbox, and had more energy than all the others put together, but she was a mean opponent in a fight.
Brendan Stewart was a doctor and from what Jack had seen so far, a damn good one. He had spent years working with Doctors Without Borders, and genuinely cared not only for his patients, but everyone he came in contact with. He was also a control freak, and somewhat uptight, but after witnessing some of the things he'd no doubt seen, Jack couldn't really blame him.
Jarod Kowalski was their anthropologist. He helped the team interact with the Jawaran tribes, especially when Vivian wasn't around. Thanks to Jarod they had escaped unscathed on more than one occasion when miscommunications could have created a dangerous situation. He was always in a good mood, and he seemed to have a calming effect on the others, especially in times of stress and tension, but Jack knew very little about the man. Only that he had traveled all over the world and had taught Anthropology at some point in his life.
"I'm fine," Jack finally said, realizing he had been woolgathering.
"Everything's packed," Roger said. "We're ready to leave."
Jack mo
ved away from the tree he had been leaning against. "Then let's go. Time to head out, children," he called out to the others.
"Finally," Jackie said, commandeering one of the jeeps.
Jack walked over to the second one, getting behind the wheel and throwing his tin cup in the back seat near his backpack. He was about to start the Wrangler when he heard the rumble of another jeep driving in their direction, then suddenly dying down. Signaling his team, they made their way towards the sound, weapons ready.
The vehicle was Geils'. Jack recognized it as soon as he saw the license plate, but the man standing next to it wasn't one he had seen before. He would have remembered. Tight cream khaki pants and an even tighter green t-shirt framed a lithe, but muscled body that spoke of controlled strength and fluidity.
Jack cocked his gun. "Hold it."
The stranger turned at the sound, green eyes throwing daggers at them. "Well, and what the hell do you want? To eat me, fuck me, or kill me?" he asked bluntly.
Roger laughed heartily. "Seems like you're having a bad day there, man. Something we can do to help?"
"That would depend on you," the man said. "And what you want."
Brendan pointed towards the vehicle. "That jeep belongs to Geils."
Jack noticed the increase in tension in the stranger's body.
"You know Geils? You work for him?" the man asked cautiously.
Jackie shook her head, her expression scornful. "No way. We've been trying to get our hands on him for months now."
The stranger tilted his head, regarding them appraisingly. "One of you wouldn't happen to be named MacKenzie, by any chance?"
Hiding his surprise that this man should know his name, Jack nodded. "I am. Jack MacKenzie."
"Carson Bodine," the man introduced himself with a lopsided smile. "Geils did mention you, as a crowd of do-gooders, if I'm not mistaken. And before you ask, no, I'm not one of his men. It was just my bad luck to run into them yesterday. If you still want to go after him, you can follow the tracks I left as I drove here. Shouldn't be too difficult. But considering I wasn't exactly a willing guest of Geils' and that I managed to escape last night, I doubt his camp is still where I last saw it."
"How did you run into Geils anyway?" Roger asked. "And I hope you don't mind my asking, but what do you do for a living? Not everyone could pull a fast one on Geils and live to talk about it."
"I'm an private investigator in New York. As for my run-in with Geils... A friend and I were here on vacation. My friend is Bruce Fraser, and--"
"The billionaire?" Roger interrupted, eyebrows climbed up to his hairline.
"Yes. Geils and his men saw us together and decided to follow us for a few days and kidnap me when they had the chance, so they could ask Bruce for a ransom. Only by the time they finally captured me, Bruce had already returned to the States and they lost the ransom. I knew they were going to kill me, so I made a break for it. I managed to knock Geils out, waited until his men were passed out drunk and stole the jeep. I did run over Bloom, I'm not sure if he's alive. I drove all night and then met you guys."
Jack frowned as he heard the story. He had a feeling there were some details missing, but he wasn't about to press Bodine for them. It was none of their business and it didn't feel right to pry. Besides, it was enough to know that for once Geils had bitten more than he could chew.
"I think we'll chance going after Geils. We may get lucky," Jarod said. "You mind going with us? We might need a hand, and seeing as you got away from them, you must have something going for you. They're a small group, but quite nasty. I'm Jarod Kowalski, by the way. This is Roger Miles, Vivian Anderson, Jackie Trent, Brendan Stewart. Jack you already know."
Carson smiled, "Nice to meet you. If Mr. MacKenzie has no problem with it, I'd like that. I wouldn't mind seeing Geils behind bars myself."
"No objections. And call me Jack," Jack said, trying to get a feel for Bodine. The man was well-spoken and obviously clever, considering the skill with which he had managed to escape Geils. He also appeared fearless and able to adjust to a situation with remarkable ease. The fact that Jarod was willing to trust Bodine so easily was also a good sign, since Jarod was usually a good judge of character.
Then there were the man's looks. Bodine was the most attractive man Jack had seen in a long time, with wavy chestnut hair that shone red in the sunlight, and catlike green eyes. A hand's breadth or so shorter than Jack himself, the snug clothes left little to the imagination, showing a slim, fit body. Jack forced his eyes away from Bodine's crotch, groaning inwardly in embarrassment as his gaze landed on full, pouty lips, that were smiling ever-so-slightly at him. His ogling had been noticed and was being returned, Bodine's eyes wandering slowly up Jack's body in silent appreciation.
"We have two jeeps hidden not far from here," Vivian said. "Come on."
Jackie drove the first one, with Brendan, Jarod and Vivian as her passengers. Jack took the wheel of the second, with Carson by his side, and Roger in the back seat. They began to backtrack Carson's path through the jungle, going as fast as they could considering the terrain, but Jack had to agree with the mysterious man by his side; Geils and his men were probably long gone.
"So, what are you guys doing out here in the middle of nowhere?" Carson asked, eyes on a pair of monkeys playing tag through the tree-tops.
"Didn't Geils tell you?" Jack took the opportunity to glance at the other man, this time without being noticed.
"Not much. Besides mentioning you've been trying to capture him, all he said was that you wanted to improve the local tribes' living conditions and stop them fighting each other."
"That's true. We were hired by Senator James Terrant to come down here. You might've heard of him, he's pretty well known back home for speaking his mind," Roger said. "His son, Stephen, was with UNICEF. Two years ago, Stephen visited Jawara during a charity operation and ended up staying. He divided his time between helping out the poorer tribes and running a small newspaper that did its best to unmask the government's illegal dealings with mercenaries, and their shady business deals with other companies, countries and so on."
"He turned up dead last year, murdered. No one knows what happened, the killer was never found," Jack said. "The senator and his daughter-in-law, Evelyn, decided to keep Stephen's work alive. She runs the newspaper, although at a more low-key pace, and he throws fund-raisers so we can remain here and do what we can for these people."
"What exactly does each of you do?" Carson asked.
"Brendan's a doctor, Jarod's an anthropologist, and Jackie can drive or fly anything with an engine. Roger and I were hired to keep the peace, and Vivian's our guide," Jack told him. "Her folks were explorers, came to Jawara when she was five and ended up dying in a cave-in accident. She was taken in by the Durak tribe, can speak most of the local dialects and knows the backcountry better than she knows herself."
Carson gave Jack a shrewd glance. "And what did you and Roger do before you were hired to keep the peace?"
"We were mercenaries."
Carson nodded. "Like Geils?"
"We're nothing like Geils," Jack said, offended. "That bastard raids villages and kidnaps women to sell into the sex trade, or the strongest men to be taken to the diamond and gold mines the government insists don't exist."
"I'm sorry," Carson offered, contrite. "I didn't mean to suggest you were like him, just that you shared the same profession. But why this urgency to find Geils? There must be other operators like him in the country."
"Yeah," Roger said. "But Geils stole a shipment meant for us, and we want it back. It had medication and vaccines, among other things, that we desperately need to stop a virus spreading to some of the local villages. It's harmless to us, a sort of influenza virus, but for these people... We're talking malnourished, never vaccinated, lacking everything we take for granted. Their bodies just can't fight it."
"And Geils stole the shipment?" The anger in Carson's voice was clear.
"Yes," Jack said grimly, remembering th
e deaths he had witnessed during the last weeks. The virus didn't spare anyone, not even the strongest among them. It was ravaging the villages like the plague, killing by the dozens to a point that some tribes were even at risk of disappearing completely as all their members were dying. "Somehow he was told about it and got to the airstrip before we got there. We know he sold it to someone and we need to know who, so we can get back as much of it as possible. It'll be months before Terrant has enough money to send us more vaccines."
"I wish I'd known. Maybe I could've forced him to tell me who he sold it to." Carson shook his head. "I didn't hit him hard enough."
Jack silently agreed with that statement. His eyes were once again drawn to the man sitting next to him, before he forced himself to watch where he was going. He had no business looking at Bodine, no business at all. He had to concentrate on the important thing; catching Geils. They needed to get that shipment back before it was too late for the people in Jawara.
# # #
Even with the help of daylight, it took them a few hours to reach the location of Geils' camp. And as Carson had predicted, the mercenaries were gone. All except for Bloom, whose body was lying lifeless on the ground.
"Guess you did kill him after all, Carson," Vivian said as she kicked the dead man lightly. "Couldn't think of a better end for this slimeball."
"Now what?" Jackie asked. "Maybe Vivian can track them? We can look for their new camp."
"There are some tracks here. Footprints. Two different tire tracks heading south," Vivian said, while checking the ground in several different directions. "The vegetation gets damn dense that way. Depending on how far ahead they are, we'll have a hard time following."
Jack shook his head. "It'd be a waste of time. Geils is probably miles away by now, and he'll be sure to cover their tracks. We better head back. We can take Carson to town and try our informants again. Maybe this time we'll get lucky. Word is bound to get around about who Geils sold the meds to. Nothing this major can be kept under wraps for long."
The Ripple Effect Page 2
