by Elle James
Leaving the half-sunken raft on the shore, they climbed into the Jeep and headed toward Hector’s hacienda, lights out, navigating by the light of the stars.
No one spoke, as if each of them was lost in thought. The operation hadn’t gone exactly according to plan. Tracie hoped that whatever they found in the briefcase would help them identify the man selling weapons to the terrorists and shut him down.
* * *
RIP FADED IN and out of consciousness on the way back to Hector’s. The bumps and jolts shot pain through Rip’s arm, waking him every time Julio darted off the road to hide in the jungle when he spotted other vehicles on the road.
By the time they reached the hacienda, he could barely stand. Julio and Carlos half dragged, half carried him into the house and up the stairs to the bedroom he and Tracie shared.
Hector sent for a doctor and insisted his staff help Rip out of his dirty clothes and into the shower. None of them had had time to wash the camouflage paint from their faces, but Hector refrained from asking about it. He saved his questions until Rip was clean and the doctor had been there to dress his wounds with sterile bandages and give him a tetanus shot.
To have his guests show up with a gunshot wound and looking like terrorists themselves, was a lot to ask of their host without an explanation. Though he was tired and would rather just sleep it off, Rip figured he owed Hector the truth. The man had been more than helpful and patient with them.
Hector stood beside Rip’s bed. “If there’s anything else you need, just ask. Either I or one of my servants would be more than happy to get it for you.” The man turned and would have walked out of the room, but Rip couldn’t let him.
“Wait. I need to tell you what’s going on.”
Tracie had just walked in. “Do you want me to go or stay?”
“Stay,” Rip said.
She turned, closed the door and walked across the room to stand on the other side of the bed, facing Hector.
In a few short minutes, Rip laid it out, telling Hector about what had happened when SBT-22 had attempted to extract the DEA agent, the death of his teammate and his own attempted murder in Mississippi.
He brought Hector up to date on what had occurred in the terrorist training camp that evening and why he had a bullet wound and the four of them wore camouflage paint.
“We have to find out who is selling American military weapons to the terrorists and shut them down,” Rip ended.
Hector remained silent throughout.
“We understand if you want us to leave tonight,” Tracie added. “It’s a lot to ask you to harbor people who have stirred up the hornet’s nest. And for all we know, we might have what we came for in that briefcase.”
Hector pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wish you had been open and honest with me from the beginning.”
Rip nodded. “Hank trusted you enough to send us here, but he asked us not to reveal who we were and why we had come. The fewer people who knew about our mission the more likely our cover story would be accepted.”
Hector nodded. “I understand.” He turned and paced to the door and back. “Had I known, I could have helped much more than just sending four men out with you. I have a boat you could have used. We could have launched an attack that would have taken every one of those murdering bastards out of existence.” He clenched his fist, his face contorted into an angry, tortured mask. “They deserve to die for what they did.”
Tracie rounded the bed and laid her hand on his back. “We couldn’t go in killing everyone there. If we don’t have what we need, we might have to capture their leader and extract that information from him.”
“You can’t interrogate a dead man.” Rip gave a tired smile. “They don’t have much to say.”
The anger seemed to drain out of Hector. “You are correct. It is just as well I was not involved or I might have ruined the mission.”
“As it is, they will have to move their camp again. The fire was big enough to be picked up by the satellites.” Rip lay back and closed his eyes. “If you need us to leave tonight, we can.”
“No,” Hector spoke softly. “You are doing my country a service by attempting to stop the flow of weapons into the hands of the terrorists. I want to help in any way I can.”
“A good night’s sleep is what I need now. In the morning we’ll look over what we got and go from there.” His blood loss had affected him more than he’d expected and he fought to stay awake.
“I’ll leave you two alone.” Hector’s brows rose. “Unless Senora Gideon, which I’m certain is not your name—” he laughed softly “—would like another room?”
“No,” Tracie spoke firmly. “I’m staying with Senor Gideon.” She grinned. “I’m getting used to the name and the man. Plus I want to make sure he doesn’t bleed all over your bed.”
“Do not worry about the bed.” Hector opened the door. “Thank you for all you have done.” With that he left Tracie and Rip alone, closing the door behind him.
Rip patted the bed beside him.
“I want to get a shower before I go to bed.” She pressed her lips to his forehead.
She must have taken off her shoes because he didn’t hear her move across the floor. The bathroom door closed and the shower started.
Rip lay back, tired beyond all measure and his shoulder ached, but they were safe and Tracie hadn’t been shot or killed in the process of infiltrating the terrorist camp. He’d call that a good day.
Chapter Fourteen
Tracie hurried through the shower, scrubbing the black camouflage paint from her face, hoping to get back to the bed before Rip fell asleep.
It had been wishful thinking on her part. Still wound up from the explosion, gunfire and hiding in the woods, she knew it would be a while before she was tired enough to sleep. Carlos and Julio had helped get Rip into the house and then gone to their own rooms to rest up for whatever was in store for them the following day.
Tracie slipped into a silk robe and wandered around the room stopping at a small desk set against the wall. The briefcase Rip had used as a weapon lay on the smooth, polished wood. Someone had wiped the exterior clean of the mud it had collected on their race through the jungle.
Sitting at the chair in front of the desk with only the light from the bathroom to see by, she flipped the catches and opened the case.
Before she could peruse the contents, a soft knock sounded on the door. She rose to answer.
Hector stood in the hallway. “I sent twenty of my men to round up as many of the terrorists as they could. We were fortunate and caught Delgado and he is locked up in the cellar of a barn not far from here.”
“Good. That will keep him from alerting his supplier that some of his documents are missing.”
Although they spoke quietly, Tracie was afraid they’d disturb Rip. “Look, let me bring the case downstairs where we can go through it. Hopefully it will contain something we can use to trace the weapons shipments back to the States.”
“I would be honored to help.”
Tracie closed the case and carried it from the room and downstairs to Hector’s study.
He cleared his massive mahogany desk. Tracie set the briefcase in the middle and flipped it open.
Tracie shuffled through documents and bills of lading, searching for a link between Carmelo and the shipments of weapons, finding only records of food and supplies. She sorted them into stacks. Some were from businesses in Honduras. Others were imports from Costa Rica, Guatemala and the Dominican Republic. Nothing really stood out.
With the briefcase empty, she stared down at it. Something about the case wasn’t right. It was much shallower than the exterior would indicate. Not just the difference of the width of the materials used to make the case. There had to be at least an inch and a half’s difference.
Tracy
felt along the inside lining, dug her fingernail into the fabric and lifted up. The bottom rose, revealing a hidden compartment. “Well, look at this.”
Hector leaned over her shoulder. “Delgado is smarter than I expected.”
Inside was an array of papers, a passport and an airline ticket for Dulles International Airport for a man named Enrique Perez. The name wasn’t familiar to Tracie, but the photograph was of the man Tracie knew as Carmelo Delgado.
“Check this out.” She handed the passport and the ticket to Hector.
Beneath the papers lay a thin mobile phone.
Tracie lifted it and pressed the button to switch it on. The screen blinked to life, but it was password protected. “Hector, do you have access to the internet?”
He nodded. “I have satellite connection.”
“I need to connect my laptop.”
“Anything you need.”
Tracie hurried back to the bedroom, checked on Rip and returned with the thin laptop she’d stashed in her suitcase. While she’d been upstairs, she had also claimed the satellite phone Hank had given her. Now that they had some information, she could turn it over to her boss and his computer genius to figure out.
Tracie placed the call. “Hank, it’s Kosart.”
“Hi, Tracie. How are things going?” Though his voice started out groggy, it cleared quickly. “Did you make it into the terrorist camp?”
“We did. If the spy satellites were over it an hour ago, they should have picked up an image of it. The whole camp was lit up like the Fourth of July.”
Hank chuckled. “I take it you made a splash.”
“Yes, sir.” Her lips quirked. “Julio is amazing with pyrotechnics.”
“The Navy does a helluva job training SEALs on demolition. We’re lucky to have him on the CCI team,” Hank agreed. “Were you able to retrieve any data?”
“We’re not sure. My partner managed to snag a briefcase belonging to the leader of the Diablos. Unfortunately, during our escape, he took a bullet to the shoulder.”
“Is he okay?”
Tracie’s gut knotted. “He lost a lot of blood, but Hector brought a doctor in to treat him. He’s holding his own.”
“Good. He’s a good man. We could use more men like him on our team.”
Tracie smiled. “I think he already has a job.”
“See what you can do to recruit him.”
Her heart skittered at the thought of working with Rip in the Covert Cowboys, Inc. The man was a dedicated SEAL. What were the chances of him giving up a life he loved to go to work for a billionaire? The SEALs were a tight-knit community.
But then there was Carlos and Julio, both SEALs who’d decided they’d had enough. Tracie wondered if Rip would do the same. Dragging her thoughts back to the present, she continued, “We found a cell phone in a hidden compartment of the case, but it’s password protected.”
“Connect the phone to the computer. I’ll get Brandon on it right away.”
“Already set up and ready for him.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth then the cursor moved on the screen even though her hand was nowhere near the touchpad.
“Leave it to Brandon,” Hank said. “He’ll have it hacked and the numbers downloaded in no time. Anything else?”
“Not much. I’ll scan the documents and send them your way to see if you can find a connection to the weapons shipments. Also, Delgado had a ticket to Virginia and a fake US passport under the name of Enrique Perez.”
“Scan and send the documents. Brandon’s already working on the phone. We’ll get back to you as soon as we have anything.”
“Roger.” Tracie ended the call and looked at Hector. “I don’t suppose you have a scanner I could use? I have a portable one, but it will take forever.”
“I do.” He opened a cabinet next to his desk revealing a state-of-the-art, combination printer and scanner.
For the next hour, Tracie scanned documents and sent them to Hank. She also downloaded and sent the photos Rip had taken with his penlight camera. When she was done, she stretched and yawned. “I think that’s all we can do for now.”
Hector nodded. “You might as well get some rest.”
“You, too.”
“I’d planned to after I check with the men holding Delgado.”
Tracie climbed the stairs so tired she could barely lift her feet. The adrenaline high she’d been on was long gone and all she wanted was to lie down and sleep.
Other than a light she’d left on in the bathroom, the massive bedroom was dark. She could make out Rip’s form lying so still, she touched his chest to see if he was breathing.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to him. “You smell good,” he said, his voice like warm syrup over gravel.
“Better than river water and camo paint?” she whispered, pressing her lips to his forehead.
“I kinda like that scent on you, too. You’re pretty hot when you’re dressed for battle.”
“You weren’t so bad yourself.” She smoothed a lock of his hair back from his forehead.
“Are you going to stand there all night, or get in bed?”
“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
“My shoulder’s sore, but I’ll hurt a lot more if I have to get up and put you in the bed.”
“Okay, okay. I’m getting in.”
He let go of her wrist, his gaze slipping over her body in the silk robe. “I like that robe on you.”
“You’ll like what’s under it better.” Tracie untied the sash and let the garment slip from her shoulders to pool around her ankles to reveal the white teddy.
Rip moaned. “You sure know how to hurt a guy.”
“Oh, if this is going to be too much for you...”
“Don’t you dare walk away now.” When he reached for her, she danced out of range.
“I really don’t want to cause you any more pain.”
“Come here.”
She straddled his hips and lowered herself over him, careful not to touch his injured shoulder as she nuzzled his neck on the opposite side. “I thought maybe I could do all the work this time.”
He lifted the hand of his good arm and cupped her cheek. “I’m all for equal opportunity.” Then he covered her lips with his, capturing the back of her head to deepen the kiss.
“You scared me tonight.” Tracie lay down pressing her ear to his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.
“When I got back to where I left you, I about had a heart attack when you and the team weren’t there.” His tongue slipped between her teeth, probing her mouth, caressing her in urgent strokes.
“I wouldn’t have left without you.” She kissed her way down his chest and tongued a dark brown nipple, nibbling on it before she moved to the other.
“You know, I could get used to this,” he said.
“Get used to what? Me doing all the work?” She sank her teeth into his skin, biting gently. “Don’t. I like it when you’re on top.”
“No, I could get used to having you around.”
She stopped midlick, her heart heavy, her stomach knotting. Then she slid off him to his uninjured side, resting her hand on his chest, her thigh draped over his. Resting her head in the crook of his shoulder, she sighed.
Why was she fighting this so hard? She liked him. He liked her. Their chemistry was off the charts. So why not go with it?
Because it would lead to heartache and Tracie wasn’t sure she was strong enough to have her heart broken again. Especially by this man. Where Bruce had been handsome and exciting, he’d also been a liar and a traitor.
Cord Schafer was a good man, dedicated to his country and the men in his unit. He was a man she could respect and maybe even fall in love with. But the time and distance that would be between them woul
d make anything they might want to have impossible. She didn’t want to risk her heart again, but damn. She suspected it was too late.
* * *
RIP LAY STILL for a long moment, wishing he’d kept his big mouth shut. Everything had been going so well. She’d worried about him in the thick of things and had been right there, tending his wounds when he’d been shot. Then to come to him in that teddy...
And he had to go and ruin it all by talking about the future.
“Look, I understand how you feel about long-term relationships. I’ve already told you how I feel about them and that I think we’d be good together.”
He pulled in a deep breath and let it out, twinges of pain shooting through his shoulder with every movement. “I promise not to bug you about it again. After nearly dying several times in the past couple months, I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe I need to loosen up and live in the moment. No expectations, no commitments. What I’m trying to say, and doing a terrible job of it, is that I just want to hold you. When you want me to let go, I will.” His arm tightened around her. “I’ll take what I can get for as long as I can get it.”
Tracie sighed, pressing her lips to his skin. “Thank you.” Nestling closer she slipped an arm over his chest. “Much as I’d like to make love to you, it’s probably better if you rest. Who knows what Hank will have for us when Brandon decodes the phone.”
“Phone?” Rip lifted his head to stare down at Tracie’s face. “What phone?”
With her eyes already closed, she yawned and said. “The one Hector and I found in the secret compartment in the briefcase.”
“I feel like Rip van Winkle instead of Rip Schafer. Did I miss anything else?”
“Just that Hector collected Delgado and some of his men and is holding them in the basement of a building nearby.”
“He did what?” Rip half sat up, pain stabbing through his shoulder. He eased back down, wincing. “Catch me up on that, will you?”
“He sent a large contingent of his men to where the camp had been. Hector’s men surprised those of Delgado’s men who were still there trying to salvage what they could. Hector’s men captured some of them who willingly disclosed Delgado’s location. When they got to Delgado, the terrorist leader’s men scattered and they were able to capture Delgado.”