Power Play: A Romance Collection

by Lauren Landish

  I look at them and then to Francisco. “What?”

  “Set up camp first. But today is the Sabbath, good for spirit.”

  The man’s sudden admission of a spiritual side touches me, and part of me feels bad for deceiving him the way I am.

  I nod and set my bag down. “I just want to look, maybe find the best place for him? Can I do that alone? It’s not like I’m a threat, but I need to make some peace with my father.”

  I throw the dad card out with a fake tremble to my voice, hoping for some leniency. Francisco grunts, and I can see the pity in his eyes. I don’t know if he still thinks I’m an insane norte or if I’m a good son, my dad such a good father that it’s driven me to come this far, to do this much to honor him.

  I don’t really care, but the man hasn’t done me any wrong, and enough blood’s been spilled in my father’s memory. I don’t want either of us to do something stupid.

  “Set up camp first, then go,” Francisco finally says, and I lift my chin in silent thanks. If only he knew just how false my paternal dedication is. It doesn’t take us long to set up our camp, which mostly consists of Francisco scraping out a fire pit while my guards and I gather appropriately sized stones from the river to ring the space before finding wood.

  Eventually, I move off again, and the guards ignore me, taking up posts near the small clearing while I approach the cave, my flashlight and the urn in my hands.

  I duck behind the misty waterfall, going inside the cave hesitantly. The dark seems to suck the light from my LED flashlight, and the temperature’s easily twenty degrees cooler than it is outside. It’s such a dramatic change that I start to shiver even though the cave’s still at least eighty degrees.

  The first ‘room’ of the cave is small, barely more than a depression in the cliff face. Moss covers most of what I can see, with rocks scattered around the floor. To my right is a large crack, though, and I approach it, reaching out to touch it as the memories start to come back.

  “I’ve found it!” Dad says, ranting wildly and excitedly in the library. It’s nearly two in the morning, and I’m exhausted with football practice tomorrow, but Dad doesn’t seem to care that his sons have been doing two-a-days all summer and still have another week of them to look forward to.

  Not that he’s been here most of the summer. He’s been somewhere, chasing something again. Same as always, same song, different day. “Dad,” I call out, pushing open the door. “For God’s sake, it’s—”

  “Look,” Dad says, almost running across the library to grab my wrist and drag me to the big map table he’s got set up in the middle. “The forensics team just got back with the key to it all!”

  I look at the large picture spread out, blinking slowly as I try to make sense of it all. “What the fuck am I looking at?”

  Normally, I wouldn’t curse in front of my father, but it’s two in the morning and I’m sick of this shit. He doesn’t notice, though, his eyes wide as he focuses solely on the picture instead of his eldest son . . . as usual.

  “It’s the hiding place,” Dad says, showing me what looks to all intents and purposes like a hole in a door. “It’s hidden, son. Even five hundred years ago, they knew such a gem couldn’t just be lost in the jungle forever. So he hid it. What you’re looking at is the door to the real hiding place.”

  I blink, shaking my head as I pull my hand back from the crack. I hadn’t even known then what he was talking about, but I do now. There’s a lot more to this ‘door’ than just a crack in a rock face, and I know that because of the last conversation I’d overheard from my father.

  “Dad, I’m home,” I call out, brushing off my pants as I walk down the hallway. I’m still in the same gear I wore down in Mexico, dealing with some cartel, but I don’t really care if I’m getting dust all over the carpet.

  It’s not like Dad will notice, even if Grant doesn’t have it vacuumed within the next half-hour. I thought that going merc instead of staying in the Army would get his attention, but it hasn’t done much to change him or his level of attentiveness.

  “I don’t care what it takes, we have to get in there!” he calls, and I’m too wise to his game to delude myself that he’s actually talking to me. I enter his library and see him standing in front of the computer monitor on the wall, his hair twisted up like it gets when he’s really in his mad scientist moods. “What do the geologists say?”

  I look at the monitor and see Anna, Dad’s assistant. She’s one hell of a historian. Dad’s often tapped her encyclopedic knowledge, although I’m pretty sure he’s never even considered tapping her in other ways. His mind is consumed by one thing . . . that damn gem. It’s all he’s thought about over the past few years, though he makes other excursions and discoveries to feed his manic need for treasure hunting. But this Brazilian gem has become his obsession.

  “Mr. Stone, I hardly—oh, hi, Nathan.”

  I’m glad someone at least acknowledges my presence. “Hello, Anna. How’s the weather . . . wherever you are?”

  I can make a few guesses based on the fact that it’s daylight where Anna is and she’s wearing light tropical clothing, but I won’t stick my foot in my mouth. Dad sends her all over the damn place. Which seems to be just fine with her, for whatever reason.

  She doesn’t answer me. She knows Dad’s chomping at the bit waiting for her answer.

  “Mr. Stone, the geologists have come back with the ground penetrating radar, and they are certain that this is the cave we’ve been looking for. Do you want them to—”

  “No!” Dad yells, his eyes burning with madness. “No. I’m going to be the one to open that door. Get the entire team back here. Are you sure they’re trustworthy?”

  “For all they know, sir, this was a search for oil deposits,” Anna confirms. “I’ll be on the next plane back to La Guardia. Uhm, I know this might be a bad time, sir . . . but when I get back, I’d like to talk about taking some time off. Personal reasons.”

  “Of course, of course,” Dad says, cutting the link. He turns to me, grinning wildly. “You hear that, Nathan? It’s mine! MINE!”

  In the dark of the cave, I can almost feel his presence, and in my mind, I talk to him. No, Dad, it’s mine. And once I find it, I’m going to destroy it. It’s brought down empires, if your stories are to be believed. It brought you down, and I’m going to make damn sure that whatever curse might exist on that stone stops with me.

  I study the rock face some more and slip my hand in the lock. The mechanism is tight, sculpted for hands much smaller than mine, but the crack in the door actually helps.

  As I twist and pull, the stone door slides open on bronze hinges, slightly frozen from years of disuse, but the very rock has protected it until I have a crack that I can wiggle into. It almost seems anticlimactically easy, knowing how long and hard Dad had to work just to get to this point—this jungle, this cave, this doorway, this lock—and I’m waltzing in to make the overtime winning touchdown and be the hero.

  Taking advantage of the time I have, I slip inside, figuring that if I can’t find it quickly, I can always try again, saying I wasn’t ready to let go yet. If I sob just right, I think Francisco will allow me to come back in and spend some time mourning with the ashes.

  The inner cavern is large. Crystals glitter in the beam of my LED, and I stop, knowing I’m looking upon a cave that no human has laid eyes on for nearly five hundred years.

  It’s so beautiful, and I could truly look at the natural wonders around me for hours, but I’m still going to have to do a lot of searching the old-fashioned way so I need to get started.

  The ground penetrating radar wasn’t exactly clear on where the diamond was inside the cave, and pirate riddles and X marks the spot are unfortunately not real, so I’m left to scavenge and scrape along the walls, looking for any nook or cranny where a diamond might’ve been hidden centuries ago to never be seen again.

  I narrow my beam, hunting for that flash of raw diamond I know so well . . . but I can’t tell. My eyes
are too dazzled after the two days in the jungle, from hours of hiking and exhaustion, so after a quick search, I head back out the way I came. I could spend hours in here.

  I might have already. I’ve lost track of time, and if Francisco asks questions, I’ll have to come up with some verbal tap dancing, maybe saying I was interested in the crystals. They already think I’m an idiot.

  But when I reach the mouth of the cave, the commotion I hear brings me to a halt. Whatever’s going on, it doesn’t sound very peaceful, and I bring my knife to my shoulder, ready to deal with whatever I find beyond the waterfall.

  At first, as I hear Francisco and his men yell in Portuguese at someone, I think maybe Nikolai’s burly guard’s come back. Maybe he thinks he can squeeze me for a little bit of extra juice.

  But suddenly, Francisco yells out in English, “Stop! Hands up!”

  What the fuck?

  I creep around the waterfall to peek out.

  But nothing prepares me for what I see emerging from the jungle beyond the clearing.

  Chapter 36

  Emma

  What the actual fuck, Miguel?

  I stare in the direction he’s just disappeared in, wondering . . . did he just lead us into an ambush and then bolt?

  He’s grown exceedingly careful and quick as we’ve gotten deeper and deeper into the jungle, but just like that, he pulled a branch aside and guided us through.

  Only for us to be captured.

  And of course, Miguel himself is nowhere in sight now. Whether he’s a traitor who sold us out, a coward hiding in the jungle, or something else, he’s melted into the thick undergrowth with ninja-like skills.

  I look to Caleb, who’s stone-faced and obviously bottling up some fury of his own. His fingers tighten on the gun in his hands, but he sees the numbers and the odds. It may be two on two, but it’s far from a fair fight. The men holding us are big and powerful, with weapons already up and ready. On the other team is us, and Caleb is stuck with me and only the gun in his hand since I’m inexperienced with firearms.

  Gruff voices yell in accented English for us to put our hands up, talking over each other so much that I almost can’t distinguish who’s yelling what.

  Caleb glances at me and sighs, judging my safety against his odds of winning a gunfight before setting his rifle down and complying. Meanwhile, my hands immediately shoot for the sky. Real Lara Croft move there, I guess.

  Even though Caleb and I are compliant, stepping away from Caleb’s rifle and spreading our feet wide, we’re both grabbed by rough hands.

  The men, one large and one larger, twist our arms behind our backs.

  The big guy holding me is especially rough, holding so tightly that I think my wrists might shatter from grinding against one another in his big paw. I won’t give him the satisfaction of crying out, however, and clamp my lips tighter, taking strength from Caleb who gives me a look of support.

  Big guy presses a gun to my temple. It’s surprisingly warm from the heat and humidity of the forest, and I’m suddenly so frightened that I nearly pee my pants in fear.

  But even with the danger and discomfort that I’m in, I can look over and see that Caleb is getting it much worse.

  The guy holding him must see that he’s a more significant threat than I am, because he’s working hard to make sure Caleb is at a disadvantage. While Caleb isn’t resisting too much, the guy really cranks on his wrist before suddenly kicking the back of Caleb’s knee, forcing it to bend and shoving him to the ground.

  As soon as Caleb hits the dirt, he brings his boot down hard on Caleb’s calf. I don’t think it’s broken, but Caleb’s eyes tighten and he makes a grunting noise as he holds back the pain.

  Both men pull back the hammers on their pistols, and in that moment I’m certain I’m going to die, right here in the Brazilian rainforest.

  God, what a crazy tilt-a-whirl turn my life has taken.

  But even with the wild spins and lurches in unexpected directions I’ve taken, I honestly have to say that my biggest regret would be dying without ever having a chance at seeing where Nathan and I could go.

  That, and not seeing him one more time before my brains get splattered all over the jungle.

  Caleb’s guard yanks him to his feet before the two of them push me and Caleb through another layer of branches, and I see another man, remarkably lean and skinny, with darkly tanned skin and a smile that tells me he’s missing more teeth than he has.

  He’s sitting on a rock, like this is just a normal afternoon.

  Hell, maybe for him it is.

  Though I doubt there are many Americans strolling into cartel territory unexpectedly.

  The guards look to the small old man for orders, talking so fast that I can’t catch a single word.

  Calm yourself. Read the men, not the words.

  The mantra helps me focus. And soon, the shock and fear burning adrenaline through my veins starts to wear off as I watch them like a ping pong match, and the whole situation suddenly strikes me as funny. Not in a sense of humor sort of way, but in a ‘no way this is my life’ way.

  The utter ridiculousness overwhelms my fear, and I begin to giggle uncontrollably. It’s not a typical response, and I probably look a little mad, but I feel a bit crazed and disoriented.

  Caleb hisses at me, “Shut the fuck up.”

  I look over to him, my eyes leaking from laughing so hard, and I realize that he’s watching the same ping pong match, and I go to object when I stop and read him.

  I think he understands them. Of course he does. He’s probably fluent in all of this.

  How is this my life?

  I take a deep, hitching breath, trying to help, but nothing keeps the madness back until I see him.

  Nathan?

  It is him, and he peeks out from a dark crevice by a waterfall I hadn’t even noticed. I swallow my laughter instantly.

  He’s here.

  I found him.

  Now what?

  I have no fucking clue.

  He holds a finger to his mouth, telling me to shut up like Caleb just did, and this time, I listen. Holding a big black knife I know will be useless against our captives’ guns, he creeps around the waterfall, quiet as a church mouse, and gets into a better position behind a rock.

  My eyes are locked on him, but his eyes flick from me to Caleb, who has a sudden bout of blinks and I wonder if they have some weird super-duper mercenary soldier language that communicates with blinks.

  The thought makes me laugh again, and the guy’s hands tighten on my arm, making me gasp in pain.

  Nathan’s eyes track the movement like he wishes he could rip the guy’s hand off for daring to touch me, much less hurt me. But when he steps from behind the rock, his full attention is on the old guy.

  “Stop, Francisco.”

  As I look at him, shoulders half turned, eyes narrowed, and body relaxed but ready to unleash a maelstrom of violence, I’m aware of how much I know about Nathan but also, how much I don’t know. Because in this moment, he looks like a complete badass. A single warrior against a group of three.

  I’m ashamed to say that it’s doing fluttery things to my core. I’m not some flaky girl with a superhero complex, but Nathan like that . . . hell, maybe I don’t know some things about myself too.

  “Francisco, let them go.”

  Francisco must be the old guy, I think. With huevos the size of grapefruit, he turns casually to face Nathan and spits at the ground. “Why? Trespassers get shot. Dead.”

  Francisco looks away from Nathan dismissively to scan Caleb coldly, almost like he’s measuring how big of a hole they’ll have to dig to fit him in it. Then I realize that they won’t even need to bury us.

  Nobody would find us out here anyway, except for the animals.

  And that’s a better way of dealing with evidence anyway. Not that I think the local police ever come out here.

  I shudder at the thought and it’s weird. I can face death, I can face getting shot, but letting my
body rot out in the open to become puma food and monkey nuggets for some reason creeps me out.

  The slight movement catches Francisco’s attention and he turns his focus to me, his lips tilting up as he looks at my breasts, his tongue peeking out as he looks at my hips, and then he adjusts himself as he scans the rest of the way down my cargo pant-covered legs.

  “Maybe not dead.”

  Every filthy, scary innuendo possible is contained in those words, and I swear I can smell the arousal of the guy holding me over the scent of sweat and body odor he’s wearing.

  His hands tighten again, pulling me back against him, and I feel his erection at my back. What sort of sick fuck gets aroused at holding a gun to a woman’s temple?

  I struggle to get away even though I have nowhere to go if I get out of his grip, but my pride and sense of self-preservation won’t let me just stand here.

  “Stop,” Nathan commands, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to me, Francisco, or the guard.

  Regardless, we all freeze. Somehow, with one word, one deep voice, he’s taken control of the entire clearing.

  “My arrangement with Nikolai is safe passage for me and my group. I came alone, but these people are my group. Caleb and Emma. My people, Francisco. Compreendo?”

  His words shoot like daggers through my gut. With his emphasis on ‘alone’, he’s telling me quite plainly that he doesn’t want me here.

  Well, fuck that. I am here. I don’t run out when things get hard.

  Francisco purses his lips. “Nikolai will not be happy.”

  “That’s my problem, not yours. His word is my group. Or do you not follow his orders?”

  It’s a challenge, an obvious one, that Francisco may be the big man in this forest, but even he’s got a boss to answer to.

  The tension is nearly more oppressive than the humidity, pressing in on us from all sides, seeping into my pores. My life is hanging by an invisible war of wills between two men, and death is slowly circling the clearing, wondering who it’s going to take.

  Are they going to kill us? Or not?