Unexpected

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Unexpected Page 17

by Lori Foster


  “For the love of . . . it’s a distraction, Eli.”

  “I’ll say.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Tell me, do I look the least bit threatening to you?”

  His gaze drifted over her, bright with menace and a good dose of jealousy. “You look ready to fuck.”

  “Perfect. Then they won’t be expecting me to steal their prisoner, now will they? Not that I couldn’t easily put both those guys out of commission, but then they might not get back up, and as you said, I promised Sarita. And before you volunteer, I know you’d hurt them. So this is the best way.”

  His answer was to grab the back of her neck and pull her toward him for a deep, openmouthed, tongue-twining kiss. Stunned, Ray hung in his grasp. What kind of retort was that?

  A possessive one, she decided.

  Eli lifted his head and visibly struggled to get his temper in check. “I don’t want to find a single scratch on you, Ray. Promise me.”

  Him and his damn promises. “Your brother is in that camp.”

  “And you’re right here. Now promise me.”

  Her heart started racing and her vision blurred. He put as much significance on her as on his brother? Ray knew in that awful moment that she’d really screwed up. She’d done the unthinkable—she’d fallen in love with Eli.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Nothing had changed. She was still an outcast, an oddity. She could just imagine him trying to introduce her to his family. This is Ray, a female mercenary. She excels in lethal hand-to-hand combat. He’d make fools of them both.

  Eli needed her arrogance now, and she gave it to him, truthfully. “If these clowns can hurt me, then it’s time I retired. And it irritates the hell out of me that you can’t find a little confidence in my abilities. Why the hell did you hire me if you don’t trust me to do a good job?”

  Eli looked agonized. “I trust you.”

  “About time.” She shoved past him. “Now get about your business, but don’t forget to watch for my signal.”

  She left, picking her way carefully toward the compound as if she had just found a much-needed sanctuary and was thankful. One quick glimpse over her shoulder told her that Eli had already disappeared.

  Ray forced herself to look weak, limping slightly, her dark eyes pleading for help. The guard’s attention diverted from the sick men as she came into view. His mouth spread in a wide, curious smile and he came to meet Ray at the flimsy gate.

  Speaking rapid Spanish, he questioned her. Answering in kind, Ray claimed she had started work with Sarita but was accosted by two drug runners who hadn’t paid like they should have. She pleaded for his protection.

  He let her enter without a qualm.

  Ray did her best not to look at Jeremy, but he was so white in comparison to the other men, he shone like a beacon. A queasy beacon. It was almost enough to turn her stomach, too.

  Miguel had his back to them, issuing orders for the rest of the breakfast to be dumped. The middle of his tan shirt, straining across his broad, thick shoulders, was dark with sweat, and his shiny black hair hung wet against his scalp. No doubt, he was grumpier than ever this morning, trying to bring order to his camp. A good thing, too, because Miguel would recognize her, and Ray needed to be rid of the guard before tackling him to ensure no one got seriously wounded.

  At her frown, the guard laughed. He misinterpreted her look as fear of the sick men. “You have nothing to fear, chica. It is just bad food.” His finger came to rest in her cleavage, and he held her eyes as he dipped below the material of her shirt, dangerously close to a nipple.

  Much more of that and Ray would be in the yard chucking with the men. She pulled away, doing her best to look teasing when she really wanted to snap a joint or two on his burly body. She only hoped Eli hadn’t witnessed that little taunt.

  Making certain to speak in Spanish, Ray began backing the man toward the ammunition shed. She praised him with false compliments and he gladly retreated with her toward what he viewed as intimate privacy.

  The rickety door was locked, so Ray smiled and danced her fingertips down the man’s shirt, stopping at his belt with a suggestive grin. Fingers fumbling, the guard worked the padlock and swung the door open, caught Ray’s hand, and tugged her inside. Ray didn’t fight him, and he laughed in delight, cupping his hands around her bottom, squeezing, seeking. He backed her against an inside wall and leaned forward to kiss her.

  Not in this lifetime.

  Ray gripped his right wrist in both her hands. Their eyes met, his startled, hers determined.

  She smiled. “Sorry, amigo.” Whipping him around so fast he didn’t have time to react, Ray hooked her leg in his, tripping him and shoving him forward hard at the same time. He landed on his hands and knees on the shed floor. Shock kept him immobile long enough for Ray to leap out and slam the door shut. She snapped the padlock closed.

  Less than two seconds later, the man roared and landed against the door so hard, he nearly toppled the shed. He definitely didn’t like being duped, and yelled as much in rather colorful terms. His shouts could be heard everywhere.

  Miguel would be on his way. With a sigh, Ray turned to greet him.

  His abundant body hair matted in sweat, Miguel stomped toward the shed to investigate. He had to dart around fallen men and twice-served breakfast remains. When he saw Ray, he skidded to a halt and his black eyes widened. “You.”

  “Hey, Miguel. What’s up?”

  Before he could stop himself, he took a hasty step back and almost fell. His bushy eyebrows met over his nose. Realization came quickly. “You want the American boy, sí?”

  “The wheels don’t get rusty on you, do they, compadre?”

  His shoulders bunched forward in aggression. “You can not have him.”

  “Who says I can’t?” And with a laughing sneer: “You?”

  “I have guards . . .” His booming voice dwindled at the sound of continued moans and other, more obnoxious regurgitating noises. He looked around the yard that now resembled a battlefield of fallen warriors. Suspicion dawned and he gave her a sharp, accusatory look.

  Ray grinned. “How’d you like your special breakfast ?”

  Red heat washed over his face. “They will die?”

  “Don’t be an ass.” That irritated her. She knew Miguel didn’t trust her, that he was afraid of her. But she didn’t do mass killings and he should have known it. After all, hadn’t she taken it easy on him last time? Hell, she could have killed him and instead she merely incapacitated him for a while. “They’ll be fine in a few hours—after I’m long gone.”

  He grunted in doubt.

  “Admit it, Miguel. This is better than me leaving broken bones behind, isn’t it?”

  He wanted to debate her confidence on the outcome of a skirmish, but knew better. He shook a fist. “The boy is more trouble than he is worth. Yet he must be worth something.”

  “Sure he is. Hand him over and I’ll see that you get well paid.” Since Eli had already given a fair amount to Sarita, it was a safe promise.

  Miguel rubbed his flat belly, either from sickness or humor. “You think I am so stupid to trust you?”

  Ray stared him in the eyes and took a menacing step forward. “You calling me a liar, Miguel?”

  His grin slipped. “No!”

  “Then give up now, before you or any of your amigos get seriously hurt.”

  “No.”

  Ray laughed. “Oh, Miguel, I did make the offer.” She took another step forward—and Miguel attacked.

  Ray hadn’t been expecting that because Miguel knew what she could do. Despite that, he grabbed her in a tight bear hug that cut off her supply of oxygen and pinned her arms to her sides. Stars danced before her eyes and her lungs burned, prompting her to quick action.

  As if she’d passed out, Ray collapsed against him. Miguel staggered, cursing while trying to keep them both on their feet. The position threw him off balance. Ray twisted to fall to her back, used her knees to catch him in the midd
le, and sent him up and over her head. The big goon landed flat on his back behind her, winded and gasping for air.

  Ray surged back up, exhilarated, bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready to go at it. Oh, if only she hadn’t promised Sarita, she could have gotten in some good practice today. She was far more skilled than Miguel, but he was easily twice her size, which would help even the score. Palms up, she bent her fingertips, urging him to her, grinning with glee. “C’mon, Miguel. You wanna play? I’ll play.”

  “No.” He shook his head and again looked around, probably hoping for assistance. At that moment, another guard approached. He looked sick, but determined. Ray hated having the advantage again. No challenge in that.

  She kicked out, catching Miguel in the ribs, forcing him back a pace or two. Just as quickly, she twisted and caught the other man in the thigh. His leg collapsed, landing him on his knees in the dirt. Ray brought her knee up into his chin. His head snapped back and he fell unconscious to the ground. Ray spared him a glance and saw he was breathing just fine. If anything, he was better off. Maybe he’d sleep until the sickness wore off.

  She faced Miguel just as he charged toward her again. Grinning with a surge of exhilaration, Ray said, “You’re up.”

  He gave a battle cry of outrage. Ray ducked around him, chopped fast, and hit him twice in the back. Miguel staggered forward, almost losing his balance. He spun around to face her, aware that she only toyed with him and not liking it a bit.

  “Puta,” he snapped and lunged at her. Ray dodged his meaty fist while delivering a chopping blow to his ribs again, then his stomach, making him huff.

  He slowly straightened up, saw her stepping toward him yet again, and covered his crotch with both hands.

  Laughing, Ray clipped him in the side of the neck just behind his ear. He went down face first—thankfully well away from the nauseous remains of his men. The whole thing had lasted less than thirty seconds.

  Ray knelt to check him, saw he was okay, and started to raise her hand to signal Eli.

  He was already sprinting across the compound toward her.

  And wow, he looked pissed. His eyes were lit with an angry fire discernible even from a distance. Ray slowly came to her feet, then propped her hands on her hips, trying to quiet herself from the rush of adrenaline. “Everything go okay?”

  Eli charged right up to her and shouted, the words practically spit at her, “What the hell kind of plan was that?”

  Chapter Ten

  Jeremy forced himself upright, bewildered by what had just happened. There was Eli, as big and strong and imposing as ever. But he hadn’t tackled the ape. No, the woman had done that. She’d taken on two men—three, if you counted the one bellowing from the shed, though he’d barely noticed her then, assuming she was with the whores who came to visit on occasion.

  But this one hadn’t had sex on her mind. No, she’d played with them, grinning with evilness, and then, with a hit or a kick, she’d laid each of them out. It defied reason and didn’t make a bit of sense. Only in movies had he ever seen anyone fight like that. And all the actors were male.

  His stomach cramped and he curled in on himself, fighting the nausea, but not for long. The woman ignored Eli and his awesome anger, and eyed him with pity.

  That burned Jeremy’s pride.

  “Save your gripes for later, Eli. Let’s move.”

  “Jeremy.” Eli put his arm around Jeremy’s shoulders, offering support while moving him away from the compound. “You okay?”

  God, to be found this way, dirty and sick and weak. And to have her witness it, especially after she’d done things he couldn’t. Things he wouldn’t have dared try. Even now, she strode beside them, her gaze watchful, her manner arrogant. “If you don’t count the stomach cramps.” Jeremy glared at her. “Was she right? The food was poisoned on purpose?”

  “Not poisoned. You’ll be okay in a few hours. But yeah, it was deliberate.”

  Jeremy stopped, fighting off a wave of churning sickness. “I should have known better than to eat that slop they serve.”

  “That slop is what they live on,” the woman pointed out.

  “You should try eating it,” Jeremy shot back.

  “I have. Plenty of times.” A movement drew her attention to his feet, and she said, “Watch yourself.”

  Jeremy glanced down and saw he’d almost stepped on that damned furry, creeping tarantula.

  He couldn’t help it. He stumbled back so fast he fell on his ass. But it didn’t seem far enough away, so he continued to scurry back. “Son of a bitch.”

  The woman actually laughed. “For a sick kid, your speed’s pretty good.” Then she stepped forward. “I’ll get it.”

  “No!” Dear God, if she touched it, he’d die. Eyes wide, he said, “Let’s just go around it.”

  Eli scowled, used the side of his boot to shove the spider out of their way, and then helped Jeremy back to his feet. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  Now seemed like a good time to disappear into the jungle. Jeremy gave it serious thought before remembering the jaguars and boas and other deadly creatures that prowled around. “No, but that damn bug has followed me everywhere.”

  The woman chuckled again. “It doesn’t have a personal vendetta against you. It’s probably not even the same one. Tarantulas are common around here.”

  Jeremy hated her.

  Not only did she take care of his captors with no effort, she would have touched that damned spider that was almost as hairy as the head guerilla, Miguel. He shuddered.

  Eli hauled him forward. “We need to get moving.”

  The woman started to put her arm around him, too, but Jeremy rudely shrugged her off, giving her a look filled with contempt. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Coulda fooled me.”

  “I’m fine,” he gritted out.

  Laughing, she said, “Well, that’s the sickliest shade of fine I’ve ever seen. And whew, you do smell ripe. They wouldn’t let you bathe?”

  Her continued good humor in the face of his misery raked along his nerves. Where were they going, anyway? It seemed Eli led them into the jungle. “Only in the dirty river.”

  “The river’s not so bad.”

  He shuddered and explained, “It’s loaded with leeches.”

  Her mouth twitched, as if she wanted to laugh at him. “Gotcha.” And then with a glance at Eli, she teased, “There’re piranha in there, too.”

  Piranha? God, he’d rather be dirty.

  All around them, men were starting to collect themselves. Their severe cramps were abating enough to make them aware of intruders, but not enough that they wanted to do anything about it.

  Suddenly the woman said, “Unless you want me to do a little more hand-to-hand, you’d better carry him, Eli.”

  Strangely enough, Eli didn’t take her to task for her commanding tone. No, he just obeyed. Ignoring Jeremy’s protests, he hauled him into his arms, carrying him like a damned baby. It was a humiliation he’d never forget.

  Jeremy thought he even heard one of the men say “Good riddance” in faint, tainted English.

  The woman led the way toward one of the guerilla’s jeeps. His eyes widened when Eli plopped him into the backseat. There in the front floor was an odd-looking gun, far more modern than those the guerillas carried. “What the hell is that?”

  The woman glanced into the jeep and shrugged. “An Uzi SMG. Your brother stored it for me.” She slid behind the wheel, then had to keep sliding when Eli pressed into the jeep, moving her over into the passenger side.

  “Hey. You’re forgetting who’s in charge here, Eli.”

  “Sorry, babe, no time to argue now.” He gunned the jeep just as the man locked inside the ammo shed broke through the rotting wooden door. He had his gun drawn and was racing toward them.

  “Hold on.” Eli slammed the jeep into gear and hit the gas pedal, spraying mud everywhere, throwing Jeremy onto the floor and causing his stomach to pitch.

  The woman watched
out the back, that awesome, shiny silver weapon in her hand. She looked entirely comfortable with it, too. Seconds before Jeremy crawled back into his seat, she said, “You might want to duck,” and then she took aim.

  The gun made an awful noise, scaring the bejesus out of him and forcing him to cover his head while cowering flat in the seat. His brother, however, was calm personified.

  “Shoot anyone?”

  She snorted. “ ’Course not. I hit the ground just to make him run for cover.”

  Jeremy stared between them. He knew his brother could be ruthless on occasion, but shooting at people? “Just who the hell are you, lady? One of their whores?”

  Now that got a reaction out of Eli. “She’s Ray Vereker and she just saved your sorry ass. You might try thanking her instead of insulting her.”

  Thank her? For poisoning him? Eli had to be kidding.

  Ray smirked. “Forget it, Eli. He can think whatever he wants. I already got my pay. That’s thanks enough.”

  Jeremy raised his head in incredulous disbelief. “You paid her to come here?”

  Eli steered sharply to the left, causing Jeremy to topple in his seat again. “The only reason I managed to get to you was because of Ray’s experience.”

  Jeremy struggled to crawl back into the seat. The woman helped by grabbing the back of his shirt and hauling him up. She damn near strangled him in the bargain. “I’ll just bet she’s real experienced.”

  Ray laughed, looked at his face, and laughed some more. “Way to lighten the mood, kid.” She reached back and punched him in the shoulder. He knew she meant it as a joke, but she hit hard for a girl. After that, she twisted back in her seat, facing forward. Jeremy took that to mean the immediate threat was over and he sat back up.

  Eli drove the jeep like a pro, but at each fast turn, Jeremy tightened his mouth. At the moment, he just wanted someplace to curl up with his misery.

  “I’m sorry, Jeremy.” Eli’s tone was calm and comforting. “I know it’s rough.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To a private plane, then home.” Eli cursed as he maneuvered around a fallen log. “The road isn’t much better than the footpath.”

 

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