Eye of the Storm

by Monette Michaels

  Before leaving to take care of her other needs, she leaned over and kissed him on the top of his messy, dirty blond hair. "Love you, Tweetie."

  He mumbled something unintelligible and settled back into sleep. She smiled. Only an earthquake would wake this brother. The others, like their dad, were trained warriors and slept lightly. Tweeter would have been a SEAL like Loren and Paul, the two oldest boys, except for the fact he was the youngest, had a genius IQ, and had been deputized to attend MIT with her as her protector. There were predators everywhere, even at the prestigious university. And he had protected her, devotedly. When she turned eighteen, she lovingly told him to get his own life—and he joined the Maddox brothers at SSI.

  Shutting the door to his bedroom behind her, she checked the last room and found it empty, but with signs it had been occupied—Vanko's room.

  Ren was nowhere to be found in the large suite of rooms. God only knew where he was. So she guessed she was on her own for seeking sustenance. She glanced at the clock over the bar. Almost lunchtime. She bet there was an eating area by the pool. Her stomach growled loudly at the thought. She patted her flat tummy. She needed fuel, especially if she had to handle three alpha males determined to be overprotective where she was concerned.

  Her short-term goal set, she retrieved her drink and re-entered her bedroom.

  The shower felt wonderful and the toiletries provided by the hotel were more luxurious than any she used at home. She emerged, smelling like a tropical rain forest, all earthy and flowery at the same time. Running her fingers through her wet curls, she was glad she hadn't quite rinsed out all the coconut-smelling conditioner. It would keep the frizz-quotient down.

  She found a unique pottery jar on the counter and lifted the lid. It was an ointment. She sniffed it. The smell brought almost erotic memories of Ren's large hands gently massaging it into her wounds and bruises. The cream must be some sort of a miracle drug because the five-day-old evidence of her attack had faded so much she had to squint to see anything. The bite marks were also no longer infected, but she chalked that result up to the meds her brother and Ren had gotten into her. She wasn't sure when she had her last dose of antibiotics, but she'd find the med kit and get a tablet to take at her meal to be safe.

  Her body clean, lotioned and treated with the miracle cream, she walked into a large closet and found several outfits for her. The guys had been busy. She couldn't find a bathing suit so added that item to her mental to-buy list. The pool called to her. She was a water baby and wanted a swim so badly she could taste it. Searching in all the built-in drawers, she could find no underwear, either. Typical male oversight. She'd have to remedy the deficit as soon as possible. She could go without a bra, but hated to since her breasts were full and needed the support. And going panty-less was not an option, but she could make do until she could get to the shops.

  She took an aqua-colored sundress off a hanger and pulled it over her head. The dress had a built-in bra and it fit just fine. Although it showed more cleavage than she normally would. Shoes? She looked around and found a pair of turquoise-jeweled thong sandals. Very chic—and perfect.

  Whoever had bought the clothes had excellent taste. For some reason she sensed it hadn't been Ren. He just didn't seem the type of man who knew what clothes would suit a woman. And she knew it hadn't been her brother. He'd never buy her anything that showed her breasts so much—and he'd have bought her underwear. So that left Vanko.

  She grinned. Bet the flirty Ukrainian had had fun. That was one man who enjoyed women. He'd dallied with her outside the village cantina, but she'd sensed it had all been in play. She'd take him along when she went to buy more clothing. They'd have a good time. Plus, this was a rough area of the world and she wasn't stupid enough to go shopping in the street markets alone. One kidnapping had been more than enough.

  Walking back into the bedroom, she located her backpack. She pulled out a travel wallet on a strap and checked to be sure she had traveler's checks. She would cash some at the front desk; she could charge most things to the room, but she needed cash for tips and such. The antibiotics were on the bedside table and she put the bottle in the small purse. Then she went into the main living area of the suite. Spying her laptop on the table by the window, she went over to see what the guys had accessed. Hitting a key, she woke it up and saw with satisfaction they had read it all. Good, she wouldn't have to talk about what happened and why she'd done what she had. The explanations had all been in her reports. Closing the laptop, she looked around and located a key card for the room on a chest by the door. She picked it up and put it in her travel purse.

  As she went to leave the room, she thought about a weapon. She couldn't see her Bren and it wouldn't fit into her small purse any way. Her knife was also too big. She shrugged. She should be safe in public space in a resort hotel, but she'd leave the guys a note so they wouldn't go apeshit when they found her gone.

  Hurrying over to the desk, she wrote a note telling them where she'd be, the time she left, and the time she expected to be back. Taking the note pad, she propped it against the laptop, then left. She was hungrier than she could ever remember being. She hoped the restaurant had burgers, 'cause she needed red meat.

  * * * *

  Keely approached the hostess stand at the poolside restaurant. She could've eaten in the main dining room, but the blue water of the Olympic size pool and the breeze blowing in from the falls beckoned her.

  "Hola, senorita. One for lunch?"

  "Yes." Keely scanned the area, ignoring the lascivious stares of men as they stripped her naked with their eyes. Uncomfortable with the avid scrutiny, she asked, "Could I have a private cabana, please?"

  "It is not a problem," the pretty brunette said with a smile. "Please follow me."

  Keely walked behind the hostess, aware that a majority of the male eyes followed their progression through the poolside restaurant.

  Damn, maybe this hadn't been a good idea. Her hair was like a beacon. She should have called room service, but wanted, no needed, to get out, to act like a tourist—to be normal. She hoped her indulgence wouldn't come back to bite her very naked butt.

  The hostess gestured to the table. Keely smiled and slipped her ten dollars. "Please close the draperies."

  "I understand, senorita. Your hair—it is very beautiful. The men, they cannot resist looking, wanting to touch the fire."

  "Thank you. My fiancé—mi novio—likes it well enough." And where in the heck had the idea of a fiancé come from?

  The hostess's gaze moved to her left hand. Her ring-less left hand. Busted already.

  Damn, she'd have to get a ring to underline her lie. It would be better for her to be engaged and considered off-limits while she was in South America. Not that a ring or the threat of a fiancé waiting in the wings would stop all men, but it would most of them.

  "Your server is Teresa. She will be with you soon. Enjoy your meal." The hostess lay the menu in front of her then left, releasing the sheer draperies to close Keely inside.

  Even though the draperies were tissue-thin, their closure gave her some peace of mind. Yet the men would still be there later, watching for her departure. Maybe there was a back way out?

  A few seconds later, a young girl entered, smiling shyly. "The dress it is very beautiful on you. Senor Vanko and I thought it would be." She poured water into one of the crystal goblets on the table.

  "You helped Vanko buy my clothes?" She looked at the girl and guessed them to be of an age. Teresa was petite with small breasts and hips, dark-haired, dark-eyed, with a beautiful full-lipped smile. She could see Vanko flirting with her.

  "Yes. The men, your novio, especially, were so concerned. They had the doctor in to see you."

  Her novio, huh? Wonder whose idea that had been? The men must have realized how awkward it would look to have three men in the same suite with her. They'd come up with the same fiction she had to protect her. Had it been Ren's idea? Her gut said it had. Th
e thought warmed her.

  Teresa pointed toward Keely's bared shoulder. "I see my grandmother's salve helped the bruises and other marks."

  "It is a wonder drug. Does your grandmother sell it in the market?"

  "No, no. She is the local curanderia. The people, they come to her house. I take Senor Vanko there and he explain what happened and she make for you." The girl smiled. "Each person needs their own special magic, si?"

  "Yes." Keely held out a hand and the girl placed hers in it. "Thank you. I would love to meet your grandmother and take more of this ointment home with me. I bruise easily."

  "Men can be brutal pigs." Teresa bit out the words as if she knew of what she spoke. Looked like they shared something else in common.

  "Not my men." She didn't want the girl to think Ren, Vanko or Tweetie had hurt her.

  "I understand. Your men are honorable."

  "Yes, they are." She gently squeezed the girl's hand, then let it go. Her stomach's angry growl reminded her of why she was there. She laughed. "Do you have hamburgers? I'm starved."

  "Yes, the finest Argentine beef." Teresa wrote on her pad. "What would you like with that?"

  "A salad. Your house dressing. Fresh fruit. A Pepsi or Coke—oh, and make the burger well done, with mayonnaise on the side."

  "It will be done. I will bring the salad and your drink right away."

  "Gracias, Teresa. And later, could I ask you to take me to the shop where you and Vanko bought the clothing? I need some more items."

  Teresa nodded and grinned. "Like lingerie? Senor Vanko turned very red when I mentioned such."

  "That surprises me. He is very much a flirt."

  "Si, he is, but he said your novio would not like him purchasing such intimate items for you. So he bought none."

  Keely flushed at the thought of Ren purchasing underwear for her. Would he pick practical or sexy? She shivered, remembering his long-fingered touch as he rubbed ointment into her breasts. She'd bet on sexy—black or red. "Yes, my novio wouldn't like it at all. Let me know when you have some free time. I'd be happy to pay you to accompany me."

  "No need to pay. Maybe Senor Vanko could go along? To guard your hair?" Teresa grinned and winked.

  "Maybe." She laughed at the mischievous twinkle in the Argentinian girl's eyes. Teresa left the cabana in a swirl of gauze draperies.

  Almost immediately after Teresa's exit, a youthful waiter with a glass of something fruity and most likely alcoholic entered the cabana. "From the senor for the senorita." He bowed and began to place the drink before her.

  One of the leering men had sent her something to drink? All the lectures from her dad and brothers about men drugging unsuspecting women's drinks came to mind. Did she look stupid? She shook her head and waved the drink away. "No, thank you. I don't accept drinks from men I don't know. My novio would be very upset." More like livid.

  "Senorita, please." The young man pleaded, his tanned complexion almost pasty with fear. "The senor will be very angry. He will think I upset you."

  Teresa entered with a salad and the soft drink and began to argue with the waiter in rapid Spanish, the dialect so heavy that Keely couldn't follow most of it. She got enough of the gist and had to stifle laughter. The very sweet Teresa was reaming the poor guy a new asshole. The girl described in detail the physical attributes of Ren, Vanko and Tweetie then told the young man he had more to worry about from the senorita's men than the senor.

  The waiter, his face now beet red, bowed and left the cabana, taking the drink with him.

  "Teresa, gracias. Maybe I should go back to my suite. I'm obviously attracting unwanted attention. Could you have my lunch boxed to go?"

  In fact, Keely's neck had begun to itch like crazy. Something bad was about to happen. She didn't want innocents caught in the crossfire, plus her weapons were in the room.

  "Yes, that might be good." Teresa frowned. "The senor Tonio mentioned is a very bad man. He takes what he wants. ?Entienda?"

  "Yes, I understand." She massaged her temples. All of a sudden she was tired. "I just wanted to have a normal lunch like a normal tourist."

  "You are not normal." Teresa waved a hand toward Keely's head. "Your hair, it is an attraction. Your body, also—it spoke to the men as you walked into the restaurant." She shook her head. "You must not walk around the resort without one of your men, senorita."

  "I agree."

  Teresa turned to leave. "I will hurry the meal and pack it for you to take."

  "Gracias. I still want to shop with you—later when Vanko can take us."

  "Good. I will enjoy that." The drapes parted and Teresa left.

  Closing her eyes, Keely lay her head against the high-backed chair. Unwanted tears filled her eyes. Damn, why couldn't she have a boring, simple life? She'd always had to watch out for predatory males. She'd been fairly safe in Cambridge at MIT, or had been until the crap with the DoD turncoat and the NSA had begun. But everywhere else, she'd had to make sure she dressed down, covering her feminine assets.

  Men were pigs, as Teresa said. Well, all men except for her brothers and maybe Ren and Vanko. She snorted—no, they were pigs, too, just not to her.

  "Senorita?" A low, raspy male voice spoke. Every nerve in her body went on alert. Her brain screamed danger. The dangerous male was close—too close. How had a man sneaked into her space without her knowing? She must be more tired than she realized.

  Keely opened her eyes. Damn, there were two of them! Large thugs with guns holstered—looked like Beretta submachine pistols—but showing under their lightweight jackets. They stood in front of her table and between her and the exit. Their heavily muscled bodies touched the table's edge. She'd bet the taller one had enough reach to grab her across the table. She slowly nudged her chair back.

  While the expressions on their faces would suit a statue, their eyes glittered with menace—and lust. They were highly aroused as the tents in the front of both their light wool dress pants showed. Well, this was just frick-fracking great.

  As their libidinous glances took in her face, hair and cleavage, she slid the steak knife from the table with her left hand and then transferred it to her right under the cover of the tablecloth. She held the weapon against her right thigh in the folds of her full skirt. The knife was not a perfect throwing knife, but it would do. She might be able to take one man out and get past the other into the open where someone might come to her defense.

  "Senor Trujo would like the pleasure of your company for lunch. He was not happy you rejected his drink." The taller of the two men spoke. Both thugs frowned as if she had insulted them personally.

  "Senor Trujo?" A sudden chill swept over her body and it took all of her control not to shudder. Did the narcotraficante boss know she was associated with Ren and the others? How could he? She'd never met the Argentinian drug lord and had only been "associated" with Ren and SSI for a few days. Even if the DoD traitor had mentioned her to the pissant drug lord, Trujo still should not have connected her to SSI.

  Fate had a horrible sense of humor—and even worse timing.

  "I do not know Senor Trujo. I do not accept drinks or lunch from men I don't know. My novio would frown on it. Beyond that, it is just a stupid thing to do."

  The shorter thug looked to her left hand which lay on the table. "I see no ring."

  Damn, she really needed to buy a ring—and would just as soon as she got away from these two Neanderthals.

  "We just got engaged. Last night. He's buying a ring now. He is meeting me for lunch to celebrate." Way to think on your feet, Keely.

  The two men looked behind them as if they expected to see her fiancé approaching.

  "He can come find you. Senor Trujo's table is the best in the house. We will see your novio when he arrives. Come," the smaller man held out his hand, "Senor Trujo does not like to be kept waiting."

  "I'm leaving. Going back to my room. Please get out of my way." She placed her left hand at the edge of the tabl
e and pushed her chair further away using her feet. Then she stood, keeping the knife in her right hand hidden in her skirt.

  "We cannot allow you to do that, senorita." The taller of the two men reached for his gun.

  Keely brought her right hand up and threw the steak knife. It hit the man reaching for his weapon in the upper arm. As he bellowed his rage and grabbed at the knife to pull it out, she shoved the table at the other man. The edge hit him in his groin, a direct hit on the obscene bulge in his pants. She muttered, "Pervert."

  The man she'd knifed came around the table, reaching for her. He grabbed her arm in a bruising grip. She used his forward momentum to throw him over her hip. He landed on his head at the back of the tented cabana. He hit so hard the supports shook wildly.

  Keely ran for the opening. The shorter man attempted to grab her with one hand while he held onto his aching manhood with the other. He was livid with rage and swearing in Spanish; he'd gladly hurt her if he could catch her. She twisted and avoided his grasp then kicked out at his knee, sending him to the ground.

  Keeping her gaze on the downed men, she blindly pushed through the draperies and ran into a large male body. Instinctively, she thrust her hand up toward the face, hoping to break this new attacker's nose.

  "No, none of that, you little spitfire. I'm the good guy here." Ren's growling voice soothed her instantly as his arms surrounded her in a tight embrace.

  "Ren?" She trembled in his arms, her face turned into his chest.

  "Yes, baby. It's Ren." He held her with one arm around her waist as he soothed her back with his other hand. "Who are these fucking assholes?" He sounded mean—no, he sounded deadly. Her trembling lessened. She was safe. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her.

  She looked up at him. His eyes burned with the need for retribution, but she knew he'd want her out of the danger zone and out of the public eye before he did anything. She stroked a shaky hand along his tight jaw. He was containing his rage as the wild pulsating muscle in his jaw attested, but she sensed it wouldn't take much for him to let loose his wrath.

  "Come closer," she spoke softly. He leaned down until his ear was against her lips. His narrowed gaze never left the two men who, she sensed, now stood, breathing heavily behind her.