Special Investigations Agency: Primordial

by Denise A. Agnew

  So he wanted her. For real. The idea was oddly gratifying and almost overwhelmed the sharp disappointment racing through her upon hearing his rebuff.

  While his rejection could be considered nice as far as dismissals went, the common sense of his statement didn’t keep the burn from hurting. He wouldn’t take this physical entanglement a step farther, despite what he’d said in the stairwell.

  “Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself? I have never met a more self-confident man than you, Zane. Except, maybe, my grandfather. Both of you have this disgusting pride that is sure to get you killed one day.” When he didn’t say anything she continued. “You like playing with women? Turning them on and then tossing them away? Well that isn’t a game I’m willing to play.”

  His mouth popped open, a little astonishment registering in his eyes. “What we’re doing here is treacherous. Relationships like ours—hell any relationship like this between two agents is not condoned by the SIA.”

  “So you’re saying we’re breaking the rules.”

  “In an unwritten sense, yes.”

  Good. Let the rules decide. If regulations said hands off, she’d be less likely to feel the sting of his dismissal.

  She sighed and glared at him. “Like you said, let’s just keep this to business from now on, okay?” Crossing her arms, she frowned deeply. “We can be public, but when it comes to private I’m strictly hands off from now on.” On a roll, she decided to set some ground rules. “And one of us can sleep on the sleeper sofa, too.”

  She scooted farther away from him, her pride a little wounded. No matter. She knew when to cut her losses. So they owned a hot attraction that went out of control and they lost their heads. It didn’t mean she couldn’t handle it.

  Yet even as he settled back in his seat with perturbation on his face, she knew she lied to herself once again.

  Chapter Five

  Morning sunlight brightened the limo windows but didn’t intrude on the intimate and comfortable enclosure. As Zane sat across from Keira—way across—he wondered if last night’s royal fuck-up would come back to haunt him. Whatever he’d expected to happen when he danced with her at the restaurant, he hadn’t anticipated sprouting a major hard-on from holding her in his arms.

  Then again, he hadn’t expected to suffer a raging, overwhelming protectiveness and a need to claim her as his own as soon as he heard she’d encountered Haan. While he liked sex as much as the next man, he’d never before experienced the wildly out-of-control need like this one. With that desire to shelter evolved a need to put his stamp on her. To somehow get so far inside her any man within a hundred miles would know she was his and so would she.

  As an agent, he’d received plenty of instruction in how to circumvent unsuitable and useless emotions while on a mission. With her, every rule went straight down a rat hole. When he pulled away from her last night and realized that if he continued he would probably be fucking her in the backseat of the limo, he regretted having to stop. God, how he regretted it.

  Everything about her inflamed him last night. Her body in that dress, the realization she wore a garter belt and stockings, her kiss when she’d responded wholeheartedly. The feeling of tight, aroused little nipples between his fingers.

  Shit, shit, shit. He’d been within seconds of shoving her dress up, ripping her panties off and taking her there in a public place. Not very classy, Zane. Not classy at all. But shit, she would have been sweet, hot, wet. Damn it.

  He gritted his teeth and tried to rein in the hard-on threatening to break through his pants. He took several deep breaths and tried to remember last night in a less sexual manner.

  Her reaction surprised him a little. Hell, everything about this stubborn, feisty, pretty woman staggered him. While she said no to physical involvement, he knew she’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her. She’d been so hot, so ready to be fucked.

  Good thing I pulled the plug.

  He’d worked with a couple of female agents before but he never once felt so damned horny around them the way he felt when he came near Keira. They’d never crossed the line with him and he’d kept his paws off. Why the hell couldn’t he do that with her? Again he rubbed his neck and willed away conjecture. He couldn’t waste valuable time wondering why his hormones had jammed into overdrive. Professionalism aside, he couldn’t trust her.

  Last night after they’d arrived back at the hotel, she’d stayed quiet. She’d slipped into bed early and he retreated to the foldout sofa. To his surprise he’d fallen asleep right away. Tormented by dreams of her warm, beautiful body encasing his cock in silky, wet heat, he’d woken up in the morning with a boner the size of Mount Olympus. He’d retreated to the bathroom before she woke up. In the shower he’d relieved the tension by jacking off. Better to release the pent-up need than have his hormones testing him for the rest of the day.

  While traitorous thoughts dominated Zane, Eduardo drove them closer to Rancho La Paz. They left the highway and headed south, the road growing into a twisting, meandering snake. Here the houses looked middle-class, then deteriorated into a jumble of shanty areas proclaiming a steady decline into a poor neighborhood. Children played in their yards, their bright summer clothing flashing like rainbows as they ran, jumped, and laughed. Solemn-faced housewives watched the limo pass by. He’d been in those poor areas before and it always twisted his heart in a way he couldn’t explain. Extremes fascinated him, compelled him to explore. Maybe that’s what made him a good agent, but it also put him on the edge of destruction. He watched for the danger signs, just like last night when thinking with his cock almost drew him into major trouble.

  The road made yet another twist and the limo headed south again. Soon the houses came few and far between and the lush rainforest grew closer to the road. Another thirty minutes and they’d arrive at the gate to Ludwig Haan’s estate. Anticipation stirred in Zane’s gut as it did the ten other times he’d been to Haan’s lair.

  Zane groaned and rubbed the back of his aching neck. Never again would he try to be the gentleman and sleep on a hard fuckin’ sleeper sofa. So much for high-class accommodations at Hosteria El Sosiego. He needed an aspirin but hesitated to ask Keira. Ever since last night, through this morning and their room service breakfast, she’d been cool and remote. She’d gone mannequin on him, and he didn’t know how to remedy it.

  Today she wore a peach cotton top that hugged her round breasts in a way that kept drawing his gaze back repeatedly. Her cargo pants screamed Ralph Lauren rather than jungle explorer and looked similar to the pair he wore. Her selection of shoes, a sturdy pair of hiking boots, was practical. He’d give her points for common sense.

  When he glanced at her a second later her coolness seemed to dissolve a little.

  “Are you all right?” Soft concern in her voice, she leaned forward the slightest bit.

  He grinned and explained about the sofa sleeper. “Thing was hard as cement.”

  One of her shapely brows tilted up. “Sorry. I didn’t realize or I never would have…”

  As she realized what she almost said, her face went pink. He liked it when she blushed. The last time had been when he’d told her they had to cool it or he’d find a place in the restaurant to fuck her. Her cheeks had turned bright red at the suggestion.

  “We don’t have to worry about it for awhile,” he said. “Haan’s accommodations are first-class. I doubt he’ll have a sleeper sofa in our room since he expects us to sleep together.”

  Discomfort crossed her face, the kind that said she didn’t want to think about it. “What are we going to do about that?”

  Unsure, he swallowed hard and pushed forward with a proposal. “We’ll sleep in the same bed. I can restrain myself if you can.”

  “Oh no.” She twisted her fingers in her lap and her bottom lip went between her teeth. “Um, I meant that we’ll have to think of some other way to deal with the sleeping accommodations.”

  Though he felt like he might be lying between his teeth, he said
with a smile, “We’ll put pillows between us so we don’t accidentally touch.”

  Seriousness in her eyes said she didn’t like the joke. Then she started digging around in her fanny pack. “That’s not good enough.”

  He couldn’t resist. “Why? You think you’ll be so turned on that you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”

  She stopped her search and glared at him. Ah, damn. Here it comes. I should have kept my mouth shut.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re full of crap, Agent Spinella?”

  “More than once. Frequently, as a matter of fact.” He didn’t take offense, waving a hand in dismissal. “We’ll wait and see what our room is like when we get there. Maybe if he gives us one of those California king-sized beds we can build a fort between us.”

  She pulled a bottle of aspirin from her fanny pack and tossed it at him. “Here.”

  He caught it easily and opened the bottle. After retrieving a bottle of water from the small fridge, he took a pill. They went silent again and he found he liked the quiet to reflect. Taking Keira along on an assignment as dangerous as this bothered him, but what choice did he have? He wished Mac had given him a real agent, a woman with training and guts like Mac’s wife Destiny. Then again, Keira seemed brave enough, a woman faced with challenges. She hadn’t fallen to pieces in Egypt, even though someone shot at her. He would give her credit for that. She didn’t whine but looked the problem square in the face.

  Unless it came to sex. He guessed when it came to lovemaking she hadn’t given in to her most feral side. Images of her lips parted, her head thrown back as he’d cupped her breast last night—oh, yeah. Some snapshots deserved remembrance, and Keira Jessop with her hair tangled, her lips plumped up from kissing, and her skin hot…yeah, that would be worth recollection forever.

  Anger swelled inside him. What did it matter? He needed to keep his hands off her.

  He glanced outside and noted the jungle grew closer on either side. He wished they didn’t have to keep up this pretense of tremendous wealth, since he’d rather travel in a well-equipped, rugged SUV.

  “Tell me more about Puerto Azul,” she asked suddenly.

  Surprised she wanted to talk after their war of words, he felt relief. They’d have to ease into a reasonable relationship at some point before they reached Rancho La Paz or the tension rolling off them in waves would show.

  “There’s a lot to know about this country,” he said.

  She nodded and kept her gaze pinned on the scenery outside. “I didn’t have much notice from the SIA about coming here, so I didn’t have time to read up on the country.”

  He shifted on the limo seat. “What you don’t know about Puerto Azul can hurt you.”

  “Such as?” She brushed her hair away from her neck.

  “This place is full of cataclysmic forces, and I don’t mean the human kind.”

  “If you’re talking about volcanoes, I read about them.”

  He took another sip of water. “Volcanoes, yes. But there’s more. Like neighboring Costa Rica we have around a dozen climatic zones. La Montaña de la Jaguar in the far interior has ice and snow on it in the colder months.”

  Her eyebrows edged up in curiosity. “Interesting. I’ve always been fascinated with natural disasters like those that covered Pompeii and Herculaneum in Italy. I wish I’d worked on both sites.”

  Zane enjoyed the clear interest in her sparkling amber eyes. “La Montaña de la Jaguar did some damage to the small hamlet of St. Lucia about twenty years ago. It’s been putting out some steam in the last year, but the experts say it isn’t due to blow. Not everyone believes them. There’s a volcano about forty miles away called Rincon de Salvo. Several other volcanoes in this country have been harnessed for geothermal energy.”

  “Fascinating.”

  She shifted on her seat as if uncomfortable and looped one ankle over her knee in a casual look saying she didn’t care about looking feminine and prissy. Liking her attitude and the confidence it took, he smiled. To his surprise she returned the grin.

  He liked the ease they’d created and wanted to keep it rolling. “There’s a legend about La Selva Negra and the San Cristobal Plateau.”

  She laughed softly. “Of course there is.”

  “Countless numbers of people have been lost in the jungle over the years.”

  “That’s not surprising, is it? I would think it fairly common.”

  He shook his head. “No, it shouldn’t be. Natives to this country usually know better than to wander off into uncharted territory without a guide.”

  Keira shifted again, leaning forward and clasping her hands between her knees. “Mac Tudor said the jungle around Rancho La Paz isn’t well explored and that Haan is one of the few people to venture there. How can that be? I mean, it isn’t the Amazon.”

  Zane didn’t know all the answers, but he knew enough rumors. “I’ve heard tales from the locals in my six months here that would curl your hair.”

  Her eyes widened a little. “Then tell me. I love a good hair-raising horror tale.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She gave a gentle, feminine snort. “Of course. I’m not a woman who flinches during a scary movie.”

  “I guessed that.” He realized he still held the bottle of aspirin and he put it on the seat next to him. “The first story is about a werejaguar.”

  Understanding came over her face. “Like some of the tales told in Mesoamerica?”

  “Same thing. This one says that a half-man, half-jaguar roams the jungles outside Rancho La Paz and watches out for the innocent.” He gave his voice a dramatic tone and matched her by leaning forward in his seat. “People who aren’t pure of heart, who have greed and avarice as a part of their personality are devoured by the beast. The innocent are protected against all harm.”

  He paused for effect, and she grinned. “Who is the man part of the jaguar supposed to be?”

  “No one knows. They say he’s been in the jungle since the beginning of time.” He cleared his throat. “Then there’s a story that Haan swears is true.”

  “Which probably means it isn’t?”

  He hesitated, unsure whether to proceed with this tale. “Hard to say. Haan’s a man of weird contrasts. We know he’s a ruthless bastard, number one. Yet he’s also done everything he can to preserve the rainforest in this country. He’s thrown thousands of dollars into conservation, especially in the immediate area. It seems to be working. He’s paid companies in the United States to plant hardwoods as supply so nothing in the rainforest is cut down for furniture and farming—you name it, he’s done it for preservation.”

  Surprise colored her eyes and lines formed between her delicate brows as she frowned. Reminded of how those eyes shimmered like gold during passion, he reined back on a desire to move to her side of the limo and absorb her female heat.

  “Why do I get the feeling his good works around the local area aren’t so good?” she asked.

  He tapped his temple with his index finger. “Good thinking. My guess is that he preserves the rainforest around his ranch because of the tale he tells. It serves several purposes.” He ticked the points off on his fingers. “One, he can keep the ranch isolated and somewhat protected. Two, he keeps his own mystique. By playing the Good Samaritan part of the time, he fools a lot of rich people into thinking he’s an okay guy. Three, he holds back on information and keeps his powerbase.”

  “Mac Tudor told me that Haan claims to have found some fountain of youth in the jungle. Is that his legend?”

  “You got it. He wandered into the jungle about a year ago with an expeditionary team. Several of them were locals. He used them as pack horses of sorts. A few others were rich benefactors who wanted to be seen as conservationists. Others were Haan’s bodyguards and employees. They went on a trek that lasted four days. When they came out, only four of the original team out of ten was alive.”

  She blinked, then blinked again. “What did Haan say happened to the rest of them?�
�

  “He didn’t say much. Before the team left they each signed a statement saying no family members could hold Haan responsible if anything bad befell them on the trip.” Zane rubbed his neck again. “That wasn’t much of a problem for some of the staff lost on the trip. Haan goes through staff like liquid through a sieve. One of the celebrities was Patrice Allegheny, the actress.”

  Her mouth formed another one of those little ohhs he was starting to find too damned intriguing. “You’re kidding? I remember hearing something about her disappearing in Puerto Azul but I didn’t have any idea it was on Haan’s little jaunt.”

  “That was the one. Supermodel Livie Graystone was also on the expedition and was lost.”

  She leaned back against the seat, a puzzled expression on her finely drawn features. “You’d think the authorities would have investigated.”

  “They did, but apparently they bought Haan’s stories. First he said they discovered a strange city of labyrinths with exotic pictures on them similar to some of the carvings on temples in India.”

  Mischief danced in her incredible eyes, and he found his attraction to her stirring to life again. She threw him a clever grin. “Exotic as in erotic? Not fit for virginal eyes?”

  “Yep, that’s right.”

  “I’ve never heard of anything being found like that in this region.”

  “Neither has anyone else.” His suspicious nature, honed by years on the job, rose to life and overpowered his growing interest in her as a woman. “I’m surprised you hadn’t heard of this mysterious find.”

  Keira shrugged. “I’m not. I’ve been buried at least six months out of the year in digs and site surveys in England. We’re supposed to keep up on our professional reading, and most of it doesn’t extend to rumors and fairy tales. What do you think really happened to all those people?” she asked.

  “Maybe they did find a fountain of youth there and the people who didn’t come back decided they wanted to stay.”