"Vanko. Hold it." His tone was low, urgent. He readied his weapon; Tweeter and Vanko followed suit. He didn't know what Keely heard, but her body language indicated she heard something. The jungle was oddly quiet. There was something or someone out there. She stood for several seconds, her head angled, listening, then tugged him to the left a few yards where she shoved some palm leaves aside.
The other two moved to join them. They laughed. He stood and viewed the scene with complete disbelief. The two men lying on the ground, bound hand and foot, were typical mercs: tough, muscular and mean-looking. He wouldn't be surprised if the two wouldn't shoot their own mothers for money. "Skinny," his voice cracked with anger, "my ass."
Head tilted to the side, Keely scrutinized the two thugs. "Next to my brothers most guys are skinny."
"Your brothers aren't out to rape and kill you." He took several deep breaths until the sick feeling in his gut subsided. She could have been killed.
"Well, I should hope not." Her focus was totally on the prisoners. Her hands fisted on her hips. "Well, Jeez-Louise, the one guy moved around too much and dislodged the pressure bandage." She moved to go to the moaning man, but Ren tugged her back against him, his arm snaking around her waist like an iron clamp. His body instantly tensed everywhere her body touched his. Oh hell, I’m in real trouble. If his widely careening emotions hadn't convinced him, his body's instantaneous reaction to hers did.
Switching back to using his big brain, he said, "Let Vanko and Tweeter check them out." His nerves couldn't handle her approaching the men who would've raped then killed her.
"They can't hurt me. Dad taught me how to immobilize prisoners really well."
His only responses were a grunt and his other arm coming around her from the other side until she was trapped within the circle of his arms. She wiggled, testing her boundaries. He tightened his hold until she settled against him. She'd soon learn not to fight the limits he set for her.
Vanko eyed his arms, an eyebrow raised. Ren glared at him. The Ukrainian smiled and shrugged, then moved to check out the two immobilized men.
As Vanko checked over the men, Keely fidgeted against him. "Let go."
"No." Her ass rubbed his hard-on and he clenched his jaw, cutting off his groan. Hell, he envisioned a lot of jerking off and cold showers in his future. Despite his big brain telling him to ignore her, he pulled her hard against his arousal and rubbed it against her tight, perky butt. Maybe that would teach her to stop wiggling.
She stilled as a small animal might when sensing a predator on its trail. Good. She got the picture. He eased his hold and allowed her to move away from the evidence of his desire. He choked back a laugh at her muttered "frick-fracking testosterone."
"Vanko? Status?" His words came out lower and huskier than he would've liked. Tweeter's sister affected him too easily. On an op such a distraction wasn't good. He had to get his reaction to her under control, or better yet, get her back to the States as soon as possible. Out of sight. Out of mind. Yeah right—that would work. He was toast no matter where she was.
"Oh, she did a number on them, Ren." Vanko stood up. "Hands cuffed behind their backs and then cuffed to each other. Duct tape on their legs and gagged with pieces of their own clothing, then covered by duct tape. No way they would get loose. Good work, Keelulya"
"Thanks, Vanko." Keely beamed at the compliment.
Vanko's use of the diminutive version of her name placed her in the little sister or female relative category. Ren felt tension releasing he hadn't even known he had.
He attempted to look at the two mercs with the same level of professional objectivity Vanko displayed, but kept coming back to the purely emotional conclusion she could've been killed. He heaved a deep sigh and shook his head. Jesus, most women would have run in fear from the two ugly characters on the ground. Not her. She took them out and tied them up like a professional soldier. Fuck that, it made no difference that she was competent, she could still be hurt—and he would never allow that.
"What should we do with them?" Tweeter said. "Toss them on the path—maybe on one of those claymores they buried for us?"
The two bound men moaned and shook their heads, their eyes pleading.
"Tweetie, that's not nice." Keely wiggled out of Ren's arms and approached the prisoners. She nudged one of them with the toe of her boot. The man's eyes filled with what looked like fear. He whimpered behind his gag. "This is Pablo. Maybe I should interrogate him? Find out what he knows?"
Ren had to laugh as the man on the ground shook his head vigorously.
Tweeter lifted Pablo's head. "That's my baby sister you attempted to molest. I should just slit your fucking throat."
The man looked down at his gag, then up at Tweeter. Tweeter removed the gag.
"Senor, I did not molest your sister. Never would I do such a thing."
Vanko reached over and slapped the man on the back of the head. "Then talk, shithead. And we might leave you enough slack to get loose—eventually. The way I see it, you're both lucky some hungry jaguar hasn't followed the scent of the blood."
Keely backed away as Tweeter and Vanko asked questions. She bumped into Ren, then stopped, didn't move away. He frowned as she leaned almost wearily against him. This wasn't the Keely he'd come to know in the last hour or so. He slid supporting arms around her and braced his chin on the top of her hat-covered head. "You okay?"
"Tired. Hot. Achy. Wish I had snagged a couple more bottles of Coke." She angled her head and looked up. "I want my air-conditioned suite at the resort hotel. Waste of time asking these two anything. I'm betting they only knew they were hired to kill you guys and then they'd get paid. They probably have never even seen Reyo Trujo."
"I have. Ugly bastard. They aren't missing anything special."
"I know what he looks like." He stiffened against her. "Stop it with the protective posturing. Back in Boston, I read his CIA and DIA files, silly. Stop worrying. No matter what it looks like, I normally don't go haring off on dangerous missions. This was an exception. I'm an analyst. I program computers to search and recognize patterns, then analyze the data."
She started to add something, then hesitated. He nudged her. "What’s wrong?"
"We need to talk about something I chanced upon when I was working for the NSA through MIT—it's the reason I sent my resignation to MIT. It has to do with all this—and more. It'll be easier to show you. I had my luggage delivered to the hotel and my laptop is there."
"If it isn't stolen," he muttered. The Triple Frontier, in particular, Ciudad del Este in Paraguay, was the largest black market and free-trade zone in South America. Light-fingered porters at the hotel probably made a living pilfering through hotel residents' luggage for marketable goods and ferrying them across the river border. The borders in this part of the world were looser than a pimp's morals.
"I have all the data on a flash drive in my pocket. All they'd get are the programs, which are also duplicated on my flash drive. Plus, they wouldn't understand them even if they could get past my security—which they couldn't. The computer would wipe itself if they tried."
He smiled. She'd sounded all stiff and huffy. "Shh, little warrior. I know you wouldn't leave anything around that was government sensitive."
"How would you know that?" she grumbled. "You don't know me at all." Adding under her breath, "And don't want to know me either."
"Ah, that's where you are wrong. I plan on knowing you…knowing everything about you." His tone was one he didn't recognize. The feelings that went with it were ones he'd never felt before, but they were real.
She wiggled and turned into his body, her hands braced on his chest, and looked up at him. "You really want to…?"
"Yeah." He couldn't help it. She looked so cute. He placed a chaste kiss on her sweaty, flushed cheek. He frowned. Taking her hat off, he lay his cheek against her forehead. "You're burning up. Are you sick?"
"No…uh, well, I don't think so." She scrunched h
er forehead then let out a weary sigh. "I really don't do heat well. And I'm thirsty." She pushed against his chest, shoving her lower abs against his cock. His unruly cock pulsed against her. She looked down and blushed. "Oh my…" She shoved harder, attempting to get away from his arousal.
His reaction was to gather her closer. She buried her face in his chest. "Stay there." He didn't like it when she tried to get away from him. His hand gently cupped the back of her head, his fingers combing through the wild red-gold curls. They were burning strands of silk. "Nothing's going to happen."
She muttered something under her breath.
He choked, then coughed. "Did you just use the f-word?"
Her head jerked up and she glared at him. "No. Now let me go. You don't like me. You're teasing me. You don't want me here. You are an…ungrateful…man!"
His little spitfire uttered “man” as if it were a nasty word. He couldn't help it, he laughed.
She hit his chest with one little fist. "The next punch will be the heel of my hand up your nose."
He released her because she asked and the other two stood grinning at them, not because he felt threatened. He tapped her nose with his finger. "You don't know anything about what I like, sprite. I wasn't teasing you. And you did use the f-word, little liar. I may have to tell your Mom." But she was correct, he didn't want her here. He wanted her in Idaho, on Sanctuary where it was safe. And he was very grateful she had come into his life.
"Fine. Do. She won't believe you." She turned her back on him and walked to her brother. "Well, did old Pablo share anything new and exciting?"
"No." Tweeter frowned and placed the back of his hand against her forehead. "Jesus, Imp, you're burning up and where's your damn hat?" He moved to pick her up.
Ren muttered under his breath and reached Keely in two steps and swung her into his arms before Tweeter could, then plopped the hat on her disheveled curls. "Let's get to that damn helo and get her out of this heat."
Chapter 3
KEELY was pretty darn sure she could walk, but Ren, the headstrong bastard, wouldn't put her down. And Tweeter, the traitor, didn't challenge his boss on the issue. She'd have something to say to her brother later about sibling loyalty.
Truth be told, she felt like dog poop. Her fever, and she did indeed have one, was partially a result of dehydration and the rest due to a possible infection from the human bite marks on the lower curves of her breasts, the deeper marks the others hadn't seen yet—and only Tweeter would see once they got back to the hotel. He could help her clean the wounds. She had a military field medical kit in her luggage; it included wide-spectrum antibiotics. Her Dad always said never go to any third-world country without a well-supplied medical kit. Once again he was proven correct. She'd have to remember to tell him when she talked to him.
But first they had to get back to the hotel. And if her spider sense was working one hundred percent, that wonderful occurrence wouldn't happen soon or easily.
"Ren. Tweeter. Vanko." She hissed in a low tone "Stop. Now."
Ren had somehow sensed her alarm before she'd spoken and had ducked under the frothy leaves of a giant fern. The others joined them.
"Put me down, dammit, and weapon up." She reached for the extra H&K Ren carried on his shoulder. He fought her for it for a few seconds until she pinched a nerve in his elbow. He swore at her but relinquished the gun. "I'm itching like crazy, Tweetie."
"She's correct. There are men waiting ahead," Vanko said. "I can smell cigar smoke on the breeze. How far to the helo, Keelulya?"
She grimaced. "It's maybe two hundred yards ahead. Over the small rise we're approaching."
They all crouched silently and listened. A cough carried on the wind. The low murmur of men's voices. The clink of metal on metal.
She growled under her breath. "They'd better not be messing with my helicopter."
Ren looked at her in askance. His lips quirked. Damn, he was good-looking when he lightened up a bit. He wasn't classically handsome, but then she'd never appreciated pretty boys. She'd always been attracted to men like her dad and brothers; tough, rough around the edges, protective, but gooey in the middle with their women. Ren met most of her essential requirements—time would tell on the gooey middle part.
Yeah, Ren Maddox could be a danger to her mental and emotional health. He definitely was a danger to her physically. He'd had an erection ever since they met. She was highly familiar with male penises of all lengths and girths and their tendency to pop up unannounced, having seen too many as she grew up with five older brothers and all their friends. Ren's penis was definitely larger than all her brothers' appendages. Damn the CIA for having such complete files. And his arousal hadn't subsided even during the firefight. That was just not normal. Why that particular fact made her womb clench and her mouth go dry, she wasn't sure—but damn, she wanted to find out. Timing sucked, though.
"Keely," Ren whispered against her ear. She shivered—whether due to her fever or the feeling of his breath against her sensitive ear lobe, it was a toss up. "Stay here. We'll handle them. Don't come out until one of us comes for you."
"But, I can—”
Three "nos" came from the men. Outnumbered by testosterone as usual. Story of her life.
Ren brushed his hand over her back. She shivered again. She wanted to blame the reaction on her fever, but recognized it was his touch. "Please, just stay safe. You're feverish. Let us take care of you."
She nodded. Her lips thinned as the three left her. They'd better come back for her in less than ten minutes, because that was all the time she'd give them. There was cold water on the helicopter in a cooler and she wanted it. And nothing was keeping her from her nice, comfy, ice-cold, dehumidified hotel suite any longer than necessary. She'd take on fifty effing mercs to get her damn helo back.
Holding the H&K across her lap, she observed the three men meld into the forest. She sighed. They moved so well together, fluidly, a sign of lots of training. Her dad would approve. The way they signaled and choreographed their approach on the enemy reminded her of the war games she used to play with her brothers and Dad's recruits around Camp Lejune. It had been hot and humid there, too. She'd never gotten used to the southern weather, which is why when she went away to college she'd gone north. Hell, even Boston was too hot in the summer, but she at least could go to the Cape to escape the city heat.
Short, rapid bursts of submachine gun fire startled her out of her feverish reverie. Damn, she needed to get with the program. Daydreaming was a good way to get her butt shot. She sprawled on her stomach, wincing at the evidence of even more bruising. Gutting it out, she snaked her way toward the rise. The guys might need back up, whether they'd admit it or not.
The gunfire came in sporadic bursts. In her mind, she visualized her three men moving constantly so the mercs or whoever had been waiting at the helo couldn't get a bead on them.
A furious spate of really foul Spanish sounded to her right. Too close. The sound of feet, maybe two sets, crashed through the undergrowth. They were less than ten feet away and heading for her position.
Furious shouts in Russian reached her. Vanko had seen her danger and alerted Ren and her brother. Quickly, she found cover behind the large trunk of a fallen tree. She placed the H&K to her side within reach. She extracted her knife and placed it next to the automatic weapon, then pulled her Bren Ten from its holster at her back. Close-in work demanded a handgun.
God, the fever was really making her dizzy. She blinked sweat from her eyes and kept her fuzzy gaze fixed on the place the enemy would break through. She took a two-handed grip on the powerful pistol, bracing her hands on the trunk. Then she waited.
The first man burst through the dense foliage. He spotted her immediately; her hat had fallen off during her crawl, her halo of red hair was a dead giveaway. Before the man could even raise his weapon, she popped off two shots. The first one hit him in the forehead, then the insurance shot, in the chest on his way down.
> She let go of the gun with one hand and wiped away the sweat pouring down her forehead. She couldn't afford burning eyes at this juncture.
The second man, alerted by his companion's fall, dove behind a tree and began firing at her. His shots were wild and off the mark, but splinters from the trunk hit her cheek. Concerned about her bleary eyesight, she ducked down and played dead. She needed to draw him out. She wouldn't miss head-on. Plus, she knew from the sound of the other gunfire abating, that one of her guys would be coming soon.
Forcing herself to breathe slowly and calmly, she listened and waited.
"Senorita? Come out, I won't hurt you."
Yeah, like she was going to do anything that damn stupid. Her dad would tan her hide if she fell for such a trick. In her mind, she tried to anticipate what the macho idiot would do. Frontal attack or circle around? She'd have to play for both. Good thing she'd handled an H&K one-handed before. Shifting her Bren Ten to her left, her less dominant hand, she picked up the larger weapon with her right. All safeties off? She felt for them. Check. Everything was good to go.
Her ears ringing from all the high-caliber shots, she trusted in her spider sense. Her gut said bad guy was coming at her from the front and slightly to her right.
"Senorita?"
Dumbass. Now she knew where he was. She came up to her knees in one smooth mood, firing. There was no way to miss him with both guns blazing. A shot from her Bren Ten hit his shoulder, turning him away from her. She tracked his large body mass with the automatic weapon, firing a stream of torso shots. The man fell to the ground.
She ducked behind her fallen tree just in case none of her shots had been kill shots. She stayed in place to see who would come next.
"Keely!" Ren's furious roar was a welcome sound. She slumped against the sturdy tree. She was too tired to answer him. He'd find her. Somehow she knew he'd always find her.
Two short bursts told her he'd made sure the mercs were dead.
Eye of the Storm Page 5