He faded back into the jungle and headed to the boat. Saunders had made his bed. If Angel managed to get to safety, he’d be sure a warrant was issued for his arrest. If the traitor lived past this night, the first time he stepped on U.S. soil again, he’d be in cuffs.
Nearing the boat, Angel paused and listened. No sounds of boats or footsteps. Voices traveled better on water, so he didn’t call Maya from the forest. Instead, knowing she was nearby, he began dragging the branches off the boat until her soft tread sounded behind him.
Without either of them speaking, he handed her into the boat, then pushed off, leaping at the last minute and hauling himself aboard. He started the boat and pointed it downstream again.
Maya sat in the tall chair beside him, her hair whipping behind her. “You get to your radio?”
“I did. My handler’s arranging a safe house. We’ll make Vista Verde before morning. Might have to lie low until I can connect with my contact and we can get to the house.”
Her hands rubbed her arms.
“You cold?”
“Tired. Exhausted.” She shook her head. “Don’t know why. It’s not that late.”
“Adrenaline’s gone. You’re crashing.”
“Not you?”
“I’m used to this.”
She glanced toward the river bank, and when her gaze came back to him, it was pointed. Her lips were formed into a narrow line. “So, you gonna tell me what this is really about? You don’t seem like a drug runner to me, and you mentioned something about an investigation...”
“Everything I told you was generally true. I’m an ex-marine turned merc. But the DEA recruited me out of Afghanistan. I’ve been with them for five years now. My current assignment was to infiltrate Calderon’s organization to pinpoint his headquarters, his warehouses, who he distributes to. But then this turf war with Yanez blew up, complicating my mission. We heard through an informant Yanez’s daughter was coming from the US to join him. By damn coincidence, he wanted her to go through the training. I was already in the school and had already met Garcia. He asked me to find her. Once I figured they intended to grab her, I knew I had to find her first and figure out a way to get her out of harm’s way. And somehow, do it without breaking cover.”
Her mouth tightened. “Why did you think I was her?”
“Because the other woman in the camp is nothing like her father.”
“And I am?”
“Swear it’s no insult. Women find him attractive. He’s flamboyant. Lives large. You aren’t the least bit shy about going after what you want.” He shrugged.
Maya’s stare never left his face. “So everything was about your mission... the looks you gave me, the sex back at the camp...”
Angel drew in a deep breath and slowly nodded.
Her chin lifted and she snorted. “Have to hand it to you. You’re really good at your job.” She pushed up from her chair and moved to the passenger seat farthest from him, settling in and refusing to look his way.
Angel’s shoulders tightened. He firmed his grip on the steering wheel and faced forward. He could have lied, but maybe it was better this way. Now that she knew the truth, she wouldn’t want anything to do with him, and he could keep his focus on getting her to safety.
So, why did he feel as though he’d just kicked a puppy?
Maya wished he’d lied. If he had, doing so might have meant he didn’t want to hurt her. As it was, he’d made it plain he didn’t care enough to spare her feelings. The knowledge took her breath away.
Suddenly, she felt nauseous. Bone tired. She picked up the cushions on the seats lining the sides of the boat at the rear, determined to make herself a bed and lie down. Earlier, she’d wanted to keep him company, but now, she wanted to close her eyes and shut him out of her mind.
She reached the last seat and lifted it. The cushion was attached to a compartment, and she flipped it up. Inside were plastic-wrapped bundles. She pulled one out, staring through the clear plastic at crystalline powder. She’d watched CSI and knew what she was looking at. Her stomach took a dive straight to her toes. “Angel?” she said, holding it up in the moonlight.
His gaze swung backward, and his mouth gaped. “What the fuck?” He grabbed the gear shift and shoved it forward, slowing the boat. “Come steer.”
She set down the bag, walked forward, and slid between him and the wheel, while he headed to the back of the boat. Compartments opened and closed, accompanied by soft cursing. When he returned, he sat in the chair beside hers. “We’ve got bigger problems.”
“It’s coke, right?”
“Yeah. Which means we can’t just ditch the boat when we get to Vista Verde. It also means Garcia and Calderon want more than our asses.” He ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve got their shipment.”
Maya swallowed hard. “What are we gonna do?”
“Hide it.” He shook his head. “If they do catch us, at least we’ll have a bargaining chip.”
“How much do you think is here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe five hundred pounds, worth about ten mill.”
Oh my God. Maya knew they were in deep, deep trouble, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I knew this vacation would be an adventure, but damn.”
Angel’s gaze locked on her smile, and his own stretched across his face. He shook his head, a chuckle rocking his chest. “You’re really something else, Maya Cordoba.”
Maya waggled her eyebrows. “Glad you’re finally figuring that out.” Her smile faded and she turned her gaze back to the river. “It’s strange. I should be scared out of my mind, but after everything that’s happened, this doesn’t feel like such a big thing. Is that weird?” She shot him a glance, finding him staring at her face.
There was warmth in his eyes. Maybe a hint of regret. A little late, but she’d take it. Anything but believe he didn’t care at all.
Chapter 6
After a brief stop upstream to dump the bags of cocaine in the jungle, they arrived in Vista Verde just as the sun peeked over the tops of the trees. Angel kept his gaze on the docks they passed, looking for signs of anyone surveilling the water, but perhaps Calderon hadn’t expected them to arrive so quickly, or hadn’t mustered his men. Or maybe, Garcia hadn’t informed his boss of what had occurred—which seemed the likelier explanation. His ass was on the line. If he could retrieve the shipment before Calderon got wind, he might save his own neck.
Angel found an empty slip, tied off the boat, and together, he and Maya headed away from the water toward the center of the village. There, they found a small cafe—opened and serving breakfast. They settled at a table toward the back, one where he could watch the windows and the doorway. He placed the order, hoping his Spanish and her Hispanic features wouldn’t draw too much attention.
Within minutes, they dug into scrambled eggs served with rice and beans, fried bananas, a slice of white cheese and a carafe of hot, sweet coffee.
“Didn’t realize I was so hungry,” she said, when she finished before he did.
“We have to find Soledad’s. Someone might be watching for us to show up early. The sooner we’re off the street, the better.”
She nodded and stuck to his side while he paid their bill. He refrained from inquiring about directions in case one of Garcia’s men asked later where they might be heading.
Outside on the street, Angel spotted a truck rolling in, the bed filled with armed men. Recognizing a few of Garcia’s soldiers, he pulled Maya into an alley and they hid behind trash bins until it passed. “Think it’s safe to say we can’t stay in the open.”
Luckily, Soledad’s was on the main strip. He circled the back of the bar, and rapped on the door. It opened in an instant, a dark-eyed woman peeking out before motioning them inside.
Once the door closed, Cowboy stepped out from the office door in the back, dressed in jeans and a Mr. Frog T-shirt, his pale cowboy hat planted on his head. He stepped forward and bumped fists with Angel. “A car will be p
ulling up to the back in just a minute. Keep your heads low; the driver will take you to the house.” His gaze went to Maya, scanning her head to toe. “Seems you’ve had an exciting night.”
With a shake of her head, Maya rolled her eyes.
“We’ve got more problems,” Angel said, keeping his voice low. “The boat we took held a quarter ton of coke.”
Cowboy’s eyebrows shot up to the brim of his hat. “Turn my back for a minute...” He grinned. “You stash it?”
“Yeah, about a mile up the river.”
“This’ll complicate things for Calderon when he can’t deliver.”
“And you’ll have a big bust to help smooth over the fact we had to abort the mission.”
A quick grin flashed, and Cowboy nodded. “Good work.”
“Pure dumb luck. I wouldn’t even have known about it if this one hadn’t found the stash,” he said, tilting his head at Maya who stood close to his side.
Cowboy’s gaze went from Angel to Maya. When it returned to Angel, he said, “Think you two can find something to do for another day? Your ride out’s tomorrow night.”
Angel exhaled. He could think of half a dozen things he’d like to try if Maya was amenable. “We’ll rest up. We just had a helluva night.”
The woman called to Cowboy from the window where she’d been watching.
Cowboy walked to the door and peered left and right, and then signaled them to leave.
Angel went first, opening the back door of a dented, dusty Impala, then gestured to Maya while he watched the alley. She ducked into the car, kneeling on the floorboard. He slid in behind her, and before he slammed the door, the driver gunned the engine.
“A little cloak and dagger,” she said, pushing up to look out the window.
Angel placed a hand on top of her head and applied pressure. “Keep your head down.”
“No please?” A dimple dug into one cheek as she aimed a smile over her shoulder.
He could see the fear in her eyes, but she was trying to keep things light. Acting the dingbat to amuse him. Angel cupped her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Amigo,” the driver said over his shoulder.
“Qué?”
“There’s a gun under my seat. Bullets in a box. It’s yours. We’re here.”
Angel swept a hand under the seat and retrieved the ammo and the gun. As the driver pulled up near a small ramshackle house resting on cinderblocks, Angel reached past Maya and opened the door. “You first. Straight to the door and inside. I’ll be right on your ass.”
She hunched over, like she’d done this a hundred times, and raced to the door.
Angel kept on her heels, not taking the time to acknowledge the driver as he sped away. Once inside, he moved quickly around the house, making sure window casings were locked, and curtains closed.
Only when the last one was checked did he look around to find Maya.
She stood just inside the doorway, a hand pressed against her chest. “I know all that was necessary, but now this house feels anything but safe.”
“You don’t check the locks on your door back in Chicago?”
“Of course, I do, but...not like that. Although now, I’m probably going to be totally paranoid.”
Angel grimaced, then went to the old window air conditioner and hit the button, sighing with relief after it rattled the glass panes and began to blow. “It’s necessary. And please, take a seat. You look ready to drop. The AC’ll cool this place down enough we won’t have to rely on open windows.”
Her hand dropped away. Her gaze went to the ratty, lumpy sofa against one wall that was covered in a sheet. “Hell, I guess it can’t smell any worse than I do.”
Angel blew out a deep breath, allowing himself to relax. Cowboy had prepared the house. Likely greased the palms of the neighbors to keep them quiet if they saw anyone coming and going. Angel would set booby traps at the doors, and as thin as the walls were, they’d hear any vehicles pulling up close. For now, they were safe, and they both needed some down time. “Why don’t you check the shower? See if we have hot water. I’ll let you go first.”
Her expression lightened, and then a frown dug a line between her eyebrows. “Are there clean clothes here?”
“Not for you, I imagine.” He shook his head. “This place was meant as an escape pod for me, should I need it. But you can grab a T-shirt.”
She nodded and passed him, going down the very short hallway to one of only two doors. She flipped on the light, then screeched, and jumped back. “The floor moved.”
“We might have roaches or water bugs.”
“Might?” she asked, her voice rising.
“Baby, you didn’t freak when you got shot at, but you’ll freak over a few bugs?”
Her head turned, and she gave him an icy glare. “I have standards.”
“Bet you do,” he said, grinning.
Her eyes narrowed, but she stepped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Angel chuckled, wishing he could join her, but he had a few things to take care of first. He headed to the kitchen, sat at a metal and Formica table, and fed bullets into the clip of his gun.
The water had a brown tinge and smelled funny. But it was wet and warm, and after glancing in the fractured mirror over the sink at her mussed hair and dirty face, she decided stinky-clean was better than simply stinky.
First, however, she shucked her clothes and washed them in the sink using bar soap, and then left them drying on the towel rack while she showered, careful not to come in contact with the dingy shower curtain or look too hard at the grime stains on the tub. “Seriously, they couldn’t have arranged a safe house at a Hilton?”
And then she laughed. Maybe she was bordering on hysteria, because dirt and bugs really were the least of her worries. She ducked her head under the spray, remembering the Spartan shower she’d enjoyed the previous night. Followed by the sexier one she’d shared with Angel. Good Lord, a full twenty-four hours hadn’t even passed since she’d sauntered in on him, hoping he was half as interested as she had been. Still was, actually, but he’d only been playing a role. Trying to get into her bed and her confidence to see if she was his target. Something she fought hard to keep in mind, because as her body relaxed beneath the warm spray, her thoughts filled with images of his large, muscled frame, pushing her against the wall while his very proportionate cock drove into her—hard.
She washed her hair and used the shampoo to wash the rest of her as well, since she didn’t trust the bar soap for anything but her clothes. And when she was done, she remained standing under the water because it felt so damn good and the sound of the rushing water at last calmed her shattered nerves.
The shower curtain whooshed to the side, but she didn’t bother looking back. “Afraid I’d use all the hot water?” she asked, smiling to herself.
“Make room.”
Good Lord, all he had to do was use that deep, sexy voice and she was ready to leap at his slightest command. Deciding then and there she wouldn’t be a doormat, she handed him the little bottle of shampoo, then swept her hair forward over her shoulder. “Wash my back?”
A grunt sounded, but a moment later, his large, rough hands smoothed soap over her shoulders, and then massaged slowly down her back. When he reached her buttocks, she decided she’d hoisted herself on her own petard when he cupped her bottom and rotated the globes in small circles—open, apart, open.
“Okay, uncle,” she blurted, although his touch was arousing.
“What’s that?” he said, a hint of humor in his rumbling growl.
“Enough. Shouldn’t one of us be watching the windows?”
“We won’t be long. And this is a safe house. We’re isolated, and the neighbors won’t hear a thing.”
His hands moved up to her shoulders and gently massaged, thumbs circling on her neck until she dropped her head forward and groaned. Desperate to keep up the conversation to prove he wasn’t getting to her that quickly, she murmured, “W
on’t hear what?”
He chuckled and slowly turned her around. Then kneeling in the small tub, he added soap to his sudsy palms and started with her breasts.
There was no escaping his smoky green eyes as he bathed her. The sexiest man she’d ever met was kneeling at her feet, his features hard and tight, his body even more so. Maya began to tremble. “You missed a spot,” she said as he tweaked her nipples.
He arched a dark eyebrow. “Show me.”
Nibbling the corner of her lips, she slid her hand over her lower belly and slipped it between her parted thighs. “Here,” she said, rubbing herself, a finger teasing between her folds.
His hands didn’t move from her breasts. “Might want to hold onto my shoulders,” he growled, and then he bent toward her, his mouth opening to gobble at her mound.
When his lips sucked at her labia, she clamped both hands on his shoulders and squeezed. “Oh, Angel... Angel.”
One hand left her breast and urged her to place a thigh over his shoulder, then he cupped her buttocks and dove deeper, his tongue sliding into her slit.
She shivered with pleasure. Despite the fact he was an action guy, Angel was concerned for her pleasure. That had to mean something.
“You’ll get soap in your mouth,” she gasped as he tongued her clit.
A gust of laughter vibrated against her. And she thrust her fingers into his short hair, pulling.
He relented, releasing her and standing. “Go dry off. The bed has fresh sheets. Get between them. I’ll be a minute.”
So, not the most romantic man on the planet, but she didn’t care. The heat in his eyes had her scurrying over the side of the tub. She grabbed a towel on her way, and dried herself as she walked, heading to the bedroom, which had barren, rough-planked floors and an iron-framed, twin bed. Big enough, she guessed, since she doubted they’d spend a minute of it lying beside each other.
The water stopped with a groan of old pipes. She draped the towel over the end of the bed and lifted the sheet, sliding in and coming up on an elbow to watch him enter. Sunlight from the thin curtains burnished his skin when he arrived a moment later, nude and with droplets still clinging to his tanned skin.
Uniform Desires (Make Mine Military Romance) Page 40