Angel Down

by Lois Greiman

  “Sarah?” he said. She pivoted back, barely able to manage that much and watched as he raised his gaze back to her face. “Much as I enjoy the view, I don’t care to have others do the same.”

  She blinked, entirely unable to guess if they were still playing the game. His eyes were dark, his lips tilted, his throaty tone as sexy as a forbidden dream.

  “You might want this,” he suggested and raised the threadbare towel she’d dropped on the bed.

  She reached for the terrycloth. Their fingers brushed. Sparks soared between them like skittish fireflies.

  She jerked her gaze to the side then forced herself away, knowing he watched her as she turned, wishing her butt were rounder, her hair thicker, her…

  “And sweetheart?”

  She turned again, breath held.

  “You might want to lose the socks.”

  “Oh…” Her voice sounded hopelessly breathy, but she managed a nod and tugged them off under his perusal.

  Entirely uncertain where to look, she jerked her gaze away, wrapped the towel around herself with the speed of light and all but sprinted toward the dubious safety offered outdoors.

  Chapter 41

  Eddy stepped cautiously into the shower. It was a little U made of stucco built into the side of the house. The cement beneath her feet felt rough, and the view over top of the curved wall was stunning, rolling away in varying shades of green so bright it all but hurt her eyes. Overhead, a macaw the color of butterscotch winged its way into a nearby coffee tree. But Eddy barely noticed any of these things.

  Embarrassment consumed. True, Durrand was probably showing the depths of his paranoia by suspecting Tevio was guilty of anything more egregious than lusting after his housekeeper’s quesadillas. But perhaps he was right. And…

  She shook her head as she washed her hair. The point wasn’t whether Tevio was as pure as a saint or as guilty as sin, the point was, she had acted like a moron in there. Worse than a moron—like a tongue-tied teenager, awed by her first kiss. It was bad enough that she had jumped Durrand in a seedy restroom and tumbled off a waterfall like a wayward toddler. At least she could rise to the occasion when a little faux chemistry was called for. But she’d been blindsided. One moment he was all business, the next he was kissing her, fully clothed then entirely naked. None of those mind-warping scenarios was as discombobulating as his smile, however.

  But she was ready for it now. It was, after all, just a smile. True, his little boy grin juxtaposed against his blatant masculinity had initially stunned her, but she would do better in the future.

  Scrubbing vigorously, she finished her shower as she gave herself a pep talk: She wasn’t a child. She was a woman full grown, a trained CIA agent, an expert marksman. More to the point…two can play this damn game, she thought. Fluffing her ultra-fine hair, she wrapped herself in the towel and returned to their shared room.

  Durrand had turned a light on in the little alcove, but the sleeping area was still dim, and for that she was grateful. He stood near the bed, face in shadow. He’d twisted a towel around his washboard waist. The cloth looked ridiculously small and maybe a little giddy.

  “What’s this?” Nodding toward the fabric that hid his assets, she let her own fall to the floor in a show of newfound confidence. She paused for a moment, letting him take in the sights before sauntering toward him. “I thought you were in a hurry.”

  His brows rose. If she weren’t mistaken, other things did, too. But she wasn’t absolutely positive. Still, she reached for his towel, untucking it in one quick move. “Or were you all talk?” she asked and lifting her face to his, kissed him.

  For a moment, he didn’t respond. It was the longest second of her life. But suddenly, he was bending into her, kissing her back, pressing against her, cock straining against her stomach. She thrust her tongue into his mouth. He moaned, slipped his hands over her ass and hauled her up against him. She wrapped her legs around his rock-hard waist. He kissed her neck and she arched away, nipples thrust against the formidable strength of his chest. His buttocks bunched beneath her heels. His breathing was hard and fast. He turned, pressing her against the wall. Need, too long suppressed, screamed through her, but the desire to impress him was stronger still.

  She dropped her head toward his, letting her hair fall around them and her lips slide along his ear. “Shouldn’t we be…” He was doing something delectable to her derriere. “…in bed?”

  His breathing was heavy. “I don’t think there are any hard and fast rules.”

  “I mean…” she whispered. Good Lord, he was throbbing like a heartbeat against her belly. “If there are cameras…” The rest of her sentence was lost as he blazed a trail of kisses toward her left breast. But his caresses slowed. He lifted his head. His breathing seemed shallow.

  She forced herself to ease back a little, to find his eyes through the forest of his lashes.

  “The room’s clean,” he said.

  She stared at him from inches away. Heat pulsed between them. “What?”

  “No cameras,” he said and clearing his throat, loosened his grip a little on her bottom. “No bugs.”

  Oh God. She felt herself stiffen. Felt her breath clog in her chest. “Are you…” She shook her head a little, though she had no idea why. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  She nodded. Her legs remained wrapped around him as if he were a knight’s white steed, and she couldn’t quite figure out how to dismount.

  “Well…” She unhooked her heels finally. Somewhere deep inside her, a shrill voice suggested that she refrain from being a moron, but she exhaled shakily and continued on her chosen course. “I guess…”

  “Yeah,” he said and slid his hands over her waist and up to her ribs.

  The shrill voice gasped with hope, but he was just helping her stand. She loosened her grip on his neck, dropped her feet to the floor and turned away, hip brushing his erection.

  “Sorry,” she rasped and sprinted her gaze to his. His teeth were gritted, but he shook his head.

  “No. No, it’s… Well…” Did his voice sound a little shaky? He ran splayed fingers through his hair. “I guess I’ll take a shower, too.”

  “Yeah, good idea. Not that you…” She felt like dying. Honest to God, death didn’t look like a horrible option. “Not that you stink or anything. You just probably… Actually you smell pretty good. Like…”

  She raised her gaze painfully back to his. Was she honestly trying to describe his scent?

  “Like…um…woods, or earth or…something.”

  He was staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. And honestly, it was a distinct possibility.

  Chapter 42

  “This is wonderful.” Edwards’ voice was quiet. Gabe didn’t look at her. Across the table from them, Tevio beamed.

  “Did I not tell you Luisa was the best cook in all of this great country?”

  “You did.” There was a smile in Edwards’ voice. “What kind of meat is this? Mutton?”

  Gabe forked rice into his mouth and wondered what the fuck was wrong with him? There wasn’t a reason in the world he couldn’t have waited to tell her there were no hidden cameras in their bedroom. No reason he couldn’t have pretended he didn’t understand why she was throwing herself at him. True, that would have made him a world-class, grade-A bastard, but at least he wouldn’t be a bastard with a hard-on the size of Texas. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but stopped himself when Tevio’s gaze settled on him. A newly married man wouldn’t be as horny as a hop toad after just spending two hours with his bride. Unless his bride had a Victoria Secret body and a girl-next-door smile. Unless his bride periodically, and without provocation, he might add, suddenly jumped his bones like he was the hero on one of those ridiculous bodice rippers that sometimes had some pretty good plots and could, on occasion, help a guy forget all the shit…

  He stopped his thoughts abruptly, quit chewing, and realized with some consternation that the room was absolutely silent. And
he was staring at Edwards like she was a porterhouse and he a slavering hound.

  “Honey?” she said. Her tone was a little pointed.

  Oh, fuck, she must be waiting for an answer. He swallowed, cleared his throat and jumped in. “What?”

  “I said we can never thank Señor Tevio enough for his hospitality. Isn’t that right?”

  Was it right? Why had their host taken them in? Hospitality? It was possible, he supposed. But he wasn’t a huge believer in people’s innate goodness. Shep had once suggested Gabe might be lactose intolerant when it came to the milk of human kindness. Maybe his line of work had something to do with that. Perhaps men in his occupation didn’t always see the best side of humanity. “Right,” he said.

  Did her eyes show the slightest bit of anger? Was it because of his monosyllabic responses, or because he had made her believe they were being videoed when they were not. Or hell…maybe she was mad because he’d confessed they weren’t being filmed, removing her excuse to continue on the course they had jumped onto way back in the Blue Oyster. He had no idea what she was thinking…though, granted, the idea that Action Barbie would need an excuse to do anything seemed a little preposterous.

  “And this empanada…” she enthused, “it’s the best I’ve ever tasted. Don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely,” Gabe agreed and wondered what the hell empanadas were and if he liked them.

  “I’ll admit,” she continued, “the jungle is a little more than I had bargained for. I mean…it’s so easy to become disoriented, and the rain…” She shook her head and took another bite of whatever the hell she had called it. “It’s incessant.”

  Tevio shrugged. “I have been a bit curious about why you would come to our fair country during this time of year.”

  “Well…” Somehow, she managed to look chagrined and amused at the same time, as if regretting her own naiveté. But she wasn’t naïve. She knows what she does to a man, Gabe thought. Knew that nobody in his right mind would be able to think straight once she so much as glanced in his direction. “It was the only time Luke and I could get away. And we never really had a honeymoon.”

  Gabe stared at her, and damned if she didn’t have the decency to blush.

  Tevio smiled at her girlishness. “But surely there were other places you could have gone. Places where they do not get three hundred centimeters of rain during the wet season.”

  “Well, yes. You’re right, of course. Luke’s mother has been wanting us to visit her forever, but we’ve been dreaming of the Amazon for so long.” She sighed. It sounded wistful. Who the hell was this chick? “The mountain tapir, the spider monkey…their habitat keeps shrinking. We were afraid if we didn’t come soon, there would be no giant anteaters left to see. But…” She paused, scowling a little and making Gabe hope he wasn’t supposed to jump in here somewhere. He had jumped back in the room and didn’t feel up to doing so again soon without some kind of satisfactory outcome. “I confess to being a bit unnerved.”

  “Unnerved?” Tevio said and set his fork, tines up, on his brightly colored plate.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” she rushed to add. “We know that some of the stories we hear are just that. But there’s been a rash of crimes attributed to drug lords lately.”

  The old man nodded. “Sadly, these are…” He tilted his head back with a scowl. “What is the word? Legitimate. These are legitimate concerns. But most of my countrymen are like myself,” he said and spread short, brown fingers across his chest. Each nail held a tiny crescent of soil tucked against the cuticle. Gabe wondered vaguely if Edwards found it repulsive or charmingly earthy. “Simple folk just trying to make a living.”

  “We know that, don’t we, honey?” Edwards asked and reached across the table to take Gabe’s hand in hers. Her fingers were warm and ridiculously soft, making him think of other places even softer. “But I was worrying we had gone too far south.” Gabe had been moving south. Hell, he’d been heading toward the fucking Promised Land when his stupid ass mouth had to chime in with the truth. “I was scared we’d come too close to Santiago’s territory.”

  He’d been so close to… Wait a minute! Shit. Gabe refrained from grinding his teeth in frustration. While he’d been fantasizing about his imaginary sex life like a pimply-faced teenager, she’d been setting the stage to learn more about Shepherd’s captors.

  He swore in silence and tried to tune in to the conversation.

  “So you know of Santiago?” Tevio asked.

  She shook her head and shivered a little. “Rumors, you know. Innuendos. Wild tales.”

  Tevio scowled. “It is men such as he that give us all a black name. But you needn’t worry. So long as you remain between the branches of the rivers all will be well.”

  “The rivers?” She blinked.

  “The Putumayo and the Tortuga,” their host explained. “They make natural boundaries of sorts. Here, between their fast flowing waters, we are peaceable farmers.”

  “Really?” Edwards squeezed Gabe’s fingers and released them with a smile. “That’s wonderful to hear. Isn’t it, honey?”

  “Very comforting.” Holy hell, he sounded like a fucking zombie. “What do you grow here between the rivers?”

  “Well…” The old man chuckled a little. “We are not like our wealthy American counterparts who plant a single cash crop that make them barrels of money. Because we are small, we must diversify. We have bananas, coffee, cocoa, corn. Many even sell cut flowers.”

  Like the poppy? Gabe wondered, but didn’t verbalize the jaded querry.

  “What a wonderful way of life,” Edwards said. “Why doesn’t Santiago do the same?”

  Tevio chuckled. “Perhaps it is the cynic in me, but I believe it may be because he can make a thousand times more money selling coca than cocoa.”

  “Cocaine,” Edwards said.

  “Yes.” Tevio’s expression had turned grim.

  “And he grows it just across the river?”

  “I fear that is true, so do not venture that way. The roads between the river and his plantation are especially dangerous.”

  “He has a plantation?”

  “If you were to climb to the top of Putumayo you might be able to see his despicable pozo.”

  Edwards shook her head.

  Tevio pursed his lips. “Some call it a paste pit. It is where they convert the coca leaves into a gummy substance before completing the cocaine process. You cannot imagine the environmental degradation caused by those dreadful activities.”

  “I don’t understand,” Edwards said. “If it’s common knowledge that he’s making illegal drugs, why hasn’t he been incarcerated?”

  “Who is going to be rid of him?” Tevio asked. “He is a powerful man with many evil individuals in his employ.”

  “And I imagine he’s extremely wealthy,” Gabe said.

  “Prostitution, drugs, kidnapping...” Tevio shook his head and sighed.

  “Kidnapping?” Edwards asked. Her face was pale.

  Tevio stared at her with saddened eyes. “Do not venture to the south, señora. I shudder to think what they would do with a sweet lady such as yourself.”

  The room went silent.

  “But my apologies,” he said into the quiet. “Where are my manners? Please forgive an old man’s worries. I only ask that you be cautious,” he said and pushing his chair back, rose to his feet. “Unfortunately, I must be off. I have tasks to tend to in the morning. But Luisa will serve your breakfast after which you are welcome to come and go as you wish. La Maison serves a lovely cup of coffee in the village of Inrida. Between here and there you may see all manner of beautiful creatures. I spotted a wooly opossum on one particularly lucky morning, bush dogs and titi monkeys on more than one occasion. But for now I shall bid you buenas noches,” he said and bowing with old world charm, shambled from the room.

  Chapter 43

  “So we head south,” Edwards said. They were alone in the narrow bedroom. Sheer white curtains rustled in the late night bre
eze. Outside the sky was as black as molasses.

  Gabe nodded. “We’ll check Santiago’s paste pit first.”

  She had removed a map from his pack and was spreading it onto the bed. “It’s what…about ten miles from here? So maybe four hours to get there.”

  “Don’t forget about the river,” he warned and stood to join her by the map.

  “I don’t habitually fall into them, you know.” Her tone was a cross between irritation and apology.

  He squelched a grin. “I just meant we’re going to have to find a way to cross it.”

  She nodded slowly and turned back to the map.

  “Without you toppling in,” he added and kept his gaze front and center.

  She gave him a wry look from the corner of her eye. “I like to think I’m earning my wages.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you.” Scowling at the map, he traced the length of the gulch with his index finger. “You think the woman’s body was found about there?” he asked but she remained silent.

  He turned toward her, brows raised.

  The surprise on her face was as clear as daylight and almost made it worth risking compliments. He fought a smile and turned back to the Colombian terrain. “If you’re going to cast off, Edwards, you ought to make sure you don’t use too much bait.”

  She stared at him a second. He could feel the heat of her scowl on his face. “I wasn’t…” she began then shook her head and shifted her attention away. “Okay, maybe I was fishing a little bit.” Turning, she sat down on the bed to remove her socks. The mattress shifted beneath her little heart shaped fanny. Mattresses, it turned out, got all the damn luck, Gabe thought but kept his attention front and center.

  “If I were a shrink, I would say your parents didn’t give you enough praise,” he said.

  “If I were your patient, I would ask if you’re always such a master at the obvious.”

  “Yeah?” he said and didn’t try to keep the surprise from his voice. He could imagine her as a little girl, pigtails askew, freckles scattered like confetti across her pug nose. True, he had been careful with his own accolades, but he had his reasons. For instance, she was scared and out of her element. Praise could make her overly grateful, which could, in turn, cause her do things she would later regret.