“Problem?”
When had she become a parrot?
“I shouldn’t have slept with an assignment.”
Jane stiffened. An assignment? She’d known she was a one-nighter, but an assignment? That stung.
Bobby tightened his fingers around hers. “Not that I’m sorry. But—”
“You could get in trouble.”
“Yeah. And I doubt it would do you much good, either.”
“Me?”
“We’re from two different worlds, Jane. You’re a senator’s daughter. I’m a farmer’s son. Doctor.” He pointed to her, then to himself. “Soldier.”
“Indian chief,” she muttered.
“You don’t think it would matter, but it would. Besides, there are things you don’t know about me—”
He’d said that last night, but she’d been too interested in his body to listen.
A sad, faraway expression crossed his face, and her stomach dropped to her feet, leaving an icy lump of disgust in its wake. He’d said he wasn’t married, but—
“You’re engaged.”
“What?” His startled gaze returned to hers. “No. Never. Guys like me…we don’t get married, Jane. We do get divorced quite often, though.”
“You’re divorced?”
“No.” He kissed her brow. “And I don’t plan to be. I’m better off alone. I just forgot that for a while.”
He went into the bathroom and closed the door. She stared at it until she heard the shower come on.
Why did she feel as if he were trying to convince himself as much as her?
And why would she need convincing? She didn’t want to get married. Great sex didn’t change that.
A half an hour later, Jane and Bobby stepped onto the airport tarmac, where a private plane idled. Lucky trotted at Jane’s heels as if she were on parade.
Though he was as rumpled as she was, Bobby still managed to appear stiff and proper as he escorted Jane to the waiting aircraft. He held her elbow in a formal grip. She wanted to run back and hide forever in the stuffy hotel room with the lumpy bed.
A man emerged from the cabin. He was tall and lean, and his hair, or what was left of it, had faded to white. His face was tanned, lined, lived-in. Though he wore a dark suit and not a uniform, he still held himself in a way that revealed he’d once been on the edge, and could be again if the situation warranted it. Since Bobby saluted him, she figured the man held a rank higher than captain.
“Luchetti. Nice work.”
Bobby started and Jane glanced at him. But his face remained impassive as he said, “Thank you, sir.”
“Ma’am, I’m Colonel Delray. Your mother sent me to bring you home.”
Knowing Mother, she’d given him explicit instructions, which no doubt included hog-tying Jane if she made any noises about returning to the jungle.
“Captain, if you’d escort Dr. Harker to her seat, I’ll wait to speak with you here.”
Bobby moved forward; Jane hung back. “Speak with you about what?”
Bobby flicked a glance at the colonel, who gave a slight nod. “He’s my superior officer.”
Jane blinked. “My mother not only sent a Delta Force operator after me, she sent his superior?”
The colonel frowned.
Oops. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to know Bobby was Delta. Well, too bad. This had gone beyond ridiculous and into bizarre.
“Your mother was concerned,” the colonel said.
“No doubt. How embarrassing for the senior senator from Rhode Island to have a daughter kidnapped by drug dealers in the jungle.”
“She loves you.”
Jane snorted, earning twin expressions of shock from the men, which she ignored.
The colonel’s eyes bugged at the sight of Lucky. “What’s that?”
“Don’t even think about telling me I can’t take her on the plane,” Jane snapped. “I am in no mood.”
“Your mother will not be pleased.”
“She never is.”
Jane and Lucky trotted up the steps and into the plane with Bobby at their heels. The interior reminded her of Austin Powers. The only thing missing was the revolving bed.
“Cushy,” she commented. “Wonder who she borrowed this from. And what she had to promise to use it.”
Bobby hovered near the entrance, all stiff and at attention. Lucky slobbered on his knee, and when he didn’t acknowledge the love, she trotted over to collapse in a heap of skin and fur at Jane’s feet.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“You’re different.”
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“I mean you’re acting differently. Hard. Cold. You don’t like your mother. It’s…disturbing.”
“I love my mother.”
“But you don’t like her.”
“Wait until you meet her. You won’t like her, either.”
“I doubt I’ll be meeting her.”
Bobby glanced out the door, lifted a hand in acknowledgment. “I have to go. So do you.”
This was goodbye. Forever. Jane wasn’t ready.
She muttered, “Stay,” to the dog. Not that she had to. Lucky was already out cold. She’d had a busy night sleeping.
Jane should be tired; instead she was hyperalert. She wanted to do this goodbye right—not too clingy, not too stilted. How did one say goodbye to a man you didn’t want to say goodbye to?
Bobby took two quick steps into the cabin and nearly slammed into Jane as she headed toward him. At first she thought he was eager to touch her, then she realized he didn’t want the colonel to see them.
Stopping a mere breath away, he stared into her face. “This will pass.”
“What?” she whispered.
“This.” He brushed a knuckle across her bruised cheek. “I’ve had a few. They don’t last.”
Jane had nearly forgotten about her face. How could she have? The colonel hadn’t commented, which was odd, unless you considered he’d seen a hundred more just like hers. And wasn’t that a cheery thought?
Jane inched closer until their bodies aligned. She laid her palms on his chest. “Bobby, I—”
She stopped, uncertain what to say.
Don’t go.
Come with me.
“I like you.” The words slipped out. She felt herself blush and ducked her head.
He lifted her chin with a finger. “Ditto.”
“Luchetti!”
The colonel’s shout made them both spring away from each other. Lucky grumbled; their guilty movements had woken her up.
“If you ever need…” He shrugged.
“Rescuing?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll be the first person I call.”
They stared at each other, neither one of them sure what to do. How ridiculous. She’d shared her body with this man only a few hours before, and now she couldn’t figure out the proper etiquette for goodbye. No wonder she was more at home in the jungle.
“Bye,” she whispered.
He gathered her into his arms and she went gladly. He was so strong, so warm, so… Bobby. She hugged him tightly, and his lips brushed her hair.
“So long.”
Bobby inched back, and she fought not to cling, even when he seemed to, dragging his hands down her arms, allowing his fingers to tangle with hers before falling away to hang loosely at his sides.
He executed a sharp turn and marched out the door. Only then did Jane realize he’d never once kissed her on the lips.
His boots clattered down the steps. Lucky whined pathetically.
“I know exactly how you feel, girl.”
THE COLONEL STOOD AT the bottom of the gangway. His sharp brown eyes peered into Bobby’s as if searching for an answer. But what was the question?
“Well?” he prompted. “What happened with the senator’s daughter?”
How could the man know everything all the time when he wasn’t even there?
“I can explain.”
Bobby’s mind raced. He needed
to make this good enough to avoid a reprimand. Hell, he’d better hope he could avoid a court martial. If the senator wanted to get testy about his night of passion with her daughter, she could make life mighty uncomfortable for a man like Bobby.
“Get to it,” the colonel said. “Why was the doctor not kidnapped when you got here, then kidnapped as soon as you were?”
Bobby blinked. His boss wasn’t asking about the sex—no kidding—he was asking about the mission.
“I don’t understand it, either, sir.”
Bobby proceeded to explain the oddities in the situation. When he was through, the colonel remained silent for several seconds.
“Makes no sense at all. I’ll have another talk with Senator Harker.”
“What did she say when she first contacted you?”
“There was a call saying her daughter had been kidnapped.”
“And on that you sent me?”
Delray shrugged. “She’s a senator. She insisted.”
Well, Bobby had been sent worse places on less intel. That was the nature of his job.
“Until we know what’s what,” the colonel continued, “she’ll be safer in D.C.”
Bobby had his doubts she’d be any safer in D.C., but he wasn’t supposed to make the plans, only implement them.
“Your men are off Bowstring for a few more weeks?” the colonel asked.
Delta squadrons rotated on and off Bowstring in thirty-day increments. When on, they resided at Fort Bragg, ready to go anywhere, for anything, at a moment’s notice while updating their counterterrorism training. When off Bowstring, Delta operators traveled.
“Yes, sir. Some are at language school. A few on arctic instruction.”
Delray snorted. “As if they’ll be using that anytime soon.”
Bobby agreed, but they needed to be ready, nevertheless.
“Since you’ve got some time,” the colonel continued, “and you don’t mind Mexico—”
Bobby wasn’t all that fond of the country, but then he hadn’t been fond of Afghanistan, Pakistan or Iraq, either. That didn’t mean he couldn’t work there.
He should probably take a leave and head home as he’d promised. But after the fiasco with Colin and Marlie, going home and either being babied or teased, probably both, held very little appeal.
“I don’t mind,” he blurted.
“Great. Hang around a few days. See what you can dig up. This entire scenario bugs the living hell out of me. Let me know what you find out.”
“Where will you be, sir?”
“Washington.” Colonel Delray scowled. “I’m helping the senator put together a request to increase funding for Delta.”
Which explained why the colonel was dallying in Washington rather than heading to Fort Bragg where he belonged. It also explained why he was taking orders from a politician. He’d do anything to benefit Delta.
Colonel Delray started up the gangway at a brisk pace. When he reached the top, he nodded farewell, then the door closed behind him, and the plane pulled away.
Bobby stared at the windows, but Jane never materialized. He watched until the aircraft was no more than a dot in the bright blue Mexican sky before he left and went to work.
He filled his canteen, bought some food and another set of clothing, then changed and walked back into the jungle. He’d thought he was heartily sick of sand countries. He’d wanted to see a few trees. But as the vegetation closed in around him and the humidity pressed against his skin, starting a low headache at the base of his skull, Bobby almost missed the grit of sand in his teeth.
Almost. What he really missed was Jane. Funny, but it was lonely here without her. And that wasn’t funny at all.
Why was he still thinking about Jane? He was in love with Marlie. How could he pine for one woman, then have sex with another?
Bobby cursed. He had to quit thinking about both of them. Being distracted by a female was a good way to get killed.
He headed for the hut where the Little General had died. Though Bobby hadn’t had time to do much reconnaissance then, he planned on doing a helluva lot now. Then he’d trot over to the airfield and finish at the village.
However, when he reached the hut, all of the bodies were gone. And not just dragged away or buried in the jungle gone. But gone gone. As if they’d never been there.
No blood. No bullets. No freaking hut. The thing had been blown up.
“At least I know where my demolition went.”
He was talking to himself again.
Bobby zipped his lip and hiked toward the airfield. He found the same thing—a smoking gully where there’d once been a building, and no bodies.
Unease trickled over him, and Bobby double-timed it back to the first place he’d ever seen Jane.
By then night had fallen. A dog woofed, a child whined. The people were still there; so were the huts. Except for hers. That one had been burned to a crisp. Jane was not going to be happy when she sent for her medical books and instruments.
“What the hell?” Bobby muttered.
He took one step out of the woods and a bullet thunked into the tree behind him. Hitting the ground, he reached for his weapon.
No outcry was raised. Either everyone was deaf to gunfire, or they were glad one of their own was trying to kill an American soldier.
Since dead American soldiers always caused huge amounts of trouble, Bobby was betting gunfire was so commonplace in this part of Quintana Roo, no one cared.
Bobby crouched at the edge of the village, thinking. Bad guys had stolen, then used, his demolition to eliminate any hint that both he and Jane had been here. Why?
They’d kidnapped Jane, then questioned her about him. Again why?
Now Jane was gone, Bobby was here, and someone was trying to kill him. Again.
He was so damn sick of being shot at.
The realization made him pause. When had that happened? While he’d never enjoyed the sensation of a bullet whizzing past his cheek, he’d never wanted to rip off the shooter’s head before.
Of course, this guy was most likely one of those who’d tried to kill them in the jungle. An action that had led to Jane being kidnapped and hurt.
The memory of Jane’s battered face made him wince. Though she’d insisted she hadn’t relived the beating in her dreams, he had a bad feeling she would eventually. How could she not?
The longing to be with her when that happened was so overwhelming, Bobby had to force himself to remain where he was instead of running to Puerto and hopping the next plane to D.C.
What he needed now was one of the bad guys to extract information from.
So Bobby continued his stealthy reconnaissance of the village.
CHAPTER NINE
WITHIN TEN MINUTES, Bobby found the shooter; five minutes later the guy was disarmed, disabled and ready to blab everything he knew. Then it took only ten minutes more to convince the man he could speak English just fine.
“Why did you try to kill the American doctor?”
“Money.”
“Who paid you?”
Bobby clenched his fists. The man saw the movement and hurried to tell him.
“Someone who is great friends with Armando Escobar.”
Escobar was the nastiest up-and-coming drug dealer in southern Mexico. What did he have against Jane?
“The man you killed in the jungle?” his captive continued.
“Which one?”
“The leader.”
Ah-ha. The General.
“What about him?”
“Killing him was a mistake. He is important to Escobar.”
“Not anymore.”
“For always. The man was his son.”
That wasn’t good. Drug lords became extremely annoyed when Special Forces operatives killed their sons. Bobby could hardly blame them. However, if they’d stop sending their children on missions to beat and terrorize women, such things wouldn’t happen.
“What does Escobar want with Dr. Harker?”
&nbs
p; “If he wanted her, he wouldn’t kill her.”
“Why does he want her dead?”
“He doesn’t.”
Bobby’s headache was getting worse. He’d never had any patience with interrogation. Which was why he usually left it to the CIA.
“Explain,” he growled.
“Someone else wants her dead.”
“Who?”
“I do not know.” His gaze darted to the side, then back.
“You know something.” Bobby drew his sidearm. The action was usually all it took to make amateurs blab even more. This man was no exception.
“I overheard Enrique say a rich American wanted the doctor killed, and in such a way as to send a message.”
“To who?”
“I do not know. Truly.”
That double tap to the head had always bothered Bobby. It was a hit, plain and simple. But why? What had Jane ever done but help people?
“A message,” he murmured, as the puzzle pieces started to slide together in some semblance of sense.
If Jane was dead, she wasn’t getting any message. But someone else would be. And who would be the one most likely to need convincing of something?
Bobby cursed. No wonder Senator Harker had sent him down here. She was being blackmailed with her daughter’s life.
Jane wasn’t safe in Washington. Jane wasn’t safe anywhere. Except with him. Maybe.
“You’d better get out of the country, amigo. Escobar is after you.”
“Him and half the Middle East.”
“I would not make light. The man is…”
“What?”
“Loco. He has sampled too much of his own product.”
Just what Bobby needed. An up-and-coming drug dealer with cocaine dementia who wanted him dead because he’d killed his son.
But Escobar had to catch him first, which was going to be difficult. By this time tomorrow, Bobby planned to be glued to Jane’s side in Washington, D.C.
JANE’S PLANE MADE A WIDE turn and began its approach to Ronald Reagan Airport. From her window, she observed various national landmarks stretching toward the sky.
Since 9/11, whenever she flew into Washington, Jane got the chills. Her generation was fated to remember what they’d been doing at the exact moment those planes had hit the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, just as her mother’s generation remembered what they’d been doing when they heard Kennedy was shot.
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