by Tarah Scott
“Pack up,” he told her, then rose and took a couple steps away, speaking low into the microphone.
Jesse stilled. What was he doing? She strained to hear what he said, but the low rhythmic music of the crickets overrode his soft voice. She picked up the penlight and began folding the map when he turned.
“What happened?” she asked as he approached.
“Young and Roush report a convoy of armed men arrived at the base. Looks like a rival cartel.”
A turf war could force Perez’s into hiding, or result in his downfall before she could get to him. Adrenaline streaked through her. “The sub,” she murmured, then added, “Perez is going to get himself killed before we get the information we need. What about the demolition?”
Cole started unscrewing the sniffer’s antennas. “Same schedule, the explosion is set to go off in another seven minutes, but we’re moving out now.” He dropped the sniffers and antennas into a compartment built into the case, then closed the cover on the equipment and shoved it deeper in the bed of the Jeep. “If Perez isn’t already on his way to the base, he will be.”
“Lovely. All we have to do is make sure we don’t run into him on the road.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Headlights flickered up ahead on the dirt road Jesse and Cole jogged along. She whirled, but Cole grabbed her and dove into the jungle before she could make the jump. She landed on top of him, tensed in readiness to roll away, but his arms tightened around her as he rolled on top. Jesse started to shove him off, then stilled when she distinguished the sound of more than one vehicle approaching. She became aware of the pounding of her heart vibrating through Cole’s chest as she counted three jeeps followed by a deuce-and-a-half zoom past.
“Perez?” she whispered.
Cole shifted his head an inch and whispered in her ear, “Gotta be.” His warm breath on her skin sent a shock directly to her midsection. Damn tease. She would have heard him fine through the radio.
Jesse focused her attention on the sound of the vehicles fading into the distance and ignored the weight of his hard body. The crickets began their symphony again.
“Jess.”
His breath washed over the sensitive hallow of her throat. “Get off,” she ordered, and shoved him.
He rolled off, and she scrambled to her feet. Cole followed as she climbed back onto the road. The new moon peered through breaks in the clouds, providing enough light to move without using their flashlights. She broke into a full run with Cole at her side.
“Those trucks were in a big hurry,” he said.
“Yeah.”
Five hundred meters down the road, Jesse stopped at sight of the sharp left turn twenty meters ahead.
“What is it?” Cole whispered.
“Remember how the road on the satellite photo took a left then circled around to the south for a few hundred meters?” She scanned the thick foliage alongside the road.
“Yeah.”
“We’re there. Which means the hacienda should be…” Jesse pulled her compass from her ops jacket and consulted it as she shifted eastward. “They’ll be watching the road.” She pointed to a spot twenty feet ahead. “We’ll cut through there and come up on the hacienda from behind where they won’t expect us.”
She jogged ahead. Upon reaching the spot, she dove into the undergrowth and was soon crawling on hands and knees. Within five minutes, the underbrush had thickened to the consistency of pea soup, leaving them in total darkness. Jesse pulled fully charged UV glasses from her ops vest and slipped them on. Dense foliage limited her view in the violet illumination, but it beat crawling blind.
The going was painfully slow and Jesse consulted her compass half a dozen times. She had begun seriously considering turning back in favor of the road when she ran headlong into a barrier—a cyclone fence by the feel of wire grid on her head.
“Fence,” she said, spitting a leaf from her mouth.
Cole collided with her ass. Jesse spun around, landing hard on her butt.
“Great,” he grunted, giving his head a shake.
“Watch it, Tex,” she growled, then added, “Some men would kill to run into my ass.” She realized how stupid she sounded and stuffed the compass back in the ops vest.
Cole crawled up beside her as she rose. He stood as Jesse pulled at the foliage entangling the chain link. The plants were overgrown on both sides and so intertwined with the fence they might as well be glued to the metal. She dropped to a squat and clawed at the dirt at the fence base while Cole continued to tear at the vines and large leaves higher up.
“No good,” she whispered, and stood.
She fitted a boot toe into a vine-tangled loop of the fence as Cole did the same. Jesse grabbed him by the waistband and pulled him off the fence. “Whoa there, Cowboy, one at a time. I’ll see if the fence can hold us and what’s on the other side.” She sensed a little of the same male hesitation she’d encountered back at Rayburn’s place, and couldn’t help a private smile as she started upward.
The fence held. At the top, slivers of moonlight illuminated the uniformed glow of the UV light. She tore back the foliage enough to expose a single rusted barbed wire. No razor wire. Perez wasn’t worried. He didn’t have to be. He was the best security. Menendez had thought the same thing. Jesse worked the wire lose, folded it back, and hoisted herself over and down the other side. She moved a few feet forward, scanned the area and found more of the murky, overgrown jungle darkness.
“All clear,” she whispered.
Cole jammed a foot in the fence and climbed upward. A moment later, he dropped to the ground beside her. “Which way?”
Jesse retrieved her compass and got her bearings. “The fence runs almost exactly north and south. Straight head is due east.” She removed the eyeglasses and squinted into blackness. The glasses impeded distance vision by making near objects too bright, like a car’s headlights illuminating the road so that glare made it almost impossible to see objects beyond the beams. She folded and stuffed the glasses into her vest.
“Lead the way,” Cole whispered.
They dropped to their knees and Jesse started forward with Cole close behind. She wondered what he’d do if she gave him another mouthful of ass. Maybe he hadn’t gotten enough the first time to really appreciate his good luck. Or maybe he just didn’t care for what she had to offer.
The dense foliage quickly plunged them into total darkness. Jesse reconsidered the UV glasses, but paused, turned on the compass light, and slapped the compass’ Velcro bottom against the mating strap of her watch. She glanced at the watch. Twenty-nine minutes since they’d left the road. She placed a hand on the ground and felt earth slither under her fingers. Snake, she realized even as she scrambled backward. Cole grabbed her, rolling backwards. Her leg tangled in a vine and she got a face full of dirt as he stopped on top of her, pinning her to the ground.
“Get off me,” she spat through a mouthful of dirt.
“What happened?”
“Get off!” She coughed. Dammit. Why did Cole always end up on top?
He hesitated, then slid off her.
Jesse got to her knees. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to ask before you grab a person?”
“You jumped on me. You wouldn’t do that unless something was wrong.”
“I came across a harmless snake.”
“There is no such thing as a harmless snake in Colombia. Did it bite you?”
His calm tone didn’t hide the note of tension in his voice. “No,” she replied, before realizing she wanted to know what he would have done had she said yes.
“You sure?” he demanded.
“Positive.”
“It’s risky crawling around here at night,” he muttered.
Jesse couldn’t discern his features, but couldn’t help staring. What did he think she’d been doing the last six years? He said he knew what she was capable of, yet he acted as if she were a helpless female.
Or like he cares what happens to you, an inner voic
e said.
“We’ll be all right,” she said. “If it’s too much for you, you can wait here.”
“You wouldn’t leave me here.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“Nope.” He started crawling. “You’d be too worried wondering what I was up to.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ten meters later, a spot of light shimmered on a leaf inches from Jesse’s face. “Stop,” she whispered into her microphone.
Cole halted behind her. She grasped his hand, tugged him up beside her, and placed his palm over the leaf.
He pressed his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Not moonlight.”
She resisted the urge to jerk away from him. Why didn’t he use his radio?
“Not moonlight,” she replied, and motioned him to follow.
They inched forward. Soon, dim slivers of light appeared. Her pulse accelerated. They were nearing the compound.
At last, the jungle thinned and the wall of a hacienda became visible through the foliage. Jesse motioned Cole to slow down and, together, they crept forward. The segment of wall became a ten thousand square foot house consisting of additions, breezeways and outbuildings. She halted and scanned the compound. Rubber trees and palms dotted the yard. Fifty meters to the right, a wide driveway abutted the house, then disappeared around a corner. Aside from the crickets playing their soft tunes in harmony with the deep-throated bullfrogs, the place seemed abandoned.
Two guards with CR-21’s slung over their shoulders abruptly stepped into view around a corner of the house. Jesse took a ragged breath. That’s what she got for thinking too soon. Damn, she hated surprises. This was the first time she had gone in without conducting surveillance and she felt like a blinding spotlight waited to nail her like a trapped rat. No backup here.
Cole nudged her. She started. Yes, there was Cole.
He pointed at the far right corner. Two rubber trees with wide trunks grew near the garage where the driveway ended. They could use the trees as cover in approaching the house. Cole lifted a closed fist to shoulder height. He pointed to his eyes, then at the two guards. He wanted to go first and her to stay and cover him. Teamwork, she reminded herself, the male version, and nodded.
She kept a bead on the guards who lit cigarettes while Cole crawled to the edge of the foliage. He paused, then scurried, crab-like on hands and feet, to the first of the rubber trees. He scanned the area, hurried to the second tree, then waved her forward.
Jesse crossed to the first tree, jerking to a halt behind the trunk when a bird squawked. It fluttered out of the tree, banking into the jungle, swearing its fool head off. Jesse centered her attention on the two guards who puffed away at their cigarettes in silence.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Here’s hoping you Colombian boys are city bred.”
She darted to the next tree. When she reached Cole, he scrambled to the garage and hugged the wall. Together, they slid along the building, then under a wrap-around veranda. Her heart pounded in unison with the croak of the bullfrogs. The feeling they were walking into a trap ate at her. Get over it, she ordered herself. You’re just scared. Perez has rival cartels and sabotage to deal with. All his attention is focused there. He has no idea the target is his hacienda.
Cole halted at the first of three atrium doors connecting the veranda to the main house and pointed at her, his eyes with two fingers, then the surrounding yard. She was to keep watch. Jesse nodded and, keeping him in her peripheral vision, began a systematic scan of the grounds.
A moment later, he popped the door latch and stepped inside. With a final glance around, Jesse slipped on her UV glasses and stepped onto the tile floor alongside him. There was no light, no people in sight, and no sound. She took in the twelve-foot long formal dining table with ten chairs that dominated the middle of the room, her attention catching on a centerpiece of two cherubs, probably gold, holding a bouquet of flowers. A china cabinet stood guard against the right-hand wall, with a buffet centered against the opposite wall. Cole pointed to large sliding doors to the right of the buffet and Jesse gave a quick shake of her head. She’d seen other mansions like this. That would be a pass-through to the kitchen.
Jesse pointed to the smaller doors left of the buffet, and whispered, “Servants’ entrance and hallways. Access to the entire house, but separate from the main corridors. We’ll check behind those large doors first,” she nodded at a set of closed pocket-doors on the facing wall, “then check the servant’s hallways.”
Cole nodded. He took three steps and flattened against the wall beside the double-doors to watch the kitchen entrance and her back. Jesse stepped beside him and inched open the doors. Nothing shone in the feeble UV light, and she opened the doors two inches. She angled her head and the violet glow illuminated a divan with a high, ornate back in the middle of the room, opposite a more modern, angled sofa. In between, sat a large coffee table.
Three remotes lay on a stack of magazines, with the top magazine open and hanging half off the side facing her. Her attention snapped to a glowing object beside the magazines. A glow-in-the-dark remote control, she thought, then realized the light emanated from a tiny rectangular window on some sort of electrical device. She squinted, but couldn’t discern the object.
Jesse slid the doors open, then slipped inside. She hurried forward, flanked the nearest sofa, Cole behind her. She recognized the open magazine as Penthouse, the centerfold spread eagle. She stepped closer and saw the glowing object was a cell phone displaying the time. Her heart thundered. The phone is still connected in an active call. That meant—
“It’s a trap!”
Jesse spun on Cole as a chorus of machine gun clicks sounded around them. The overhead light flicked on and two CR-21’s leveled on Jesse and Cole from a doorway on the right.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Two more guards stepped into view from the dining room and three more appeared in the hallway’s arched opening on the left. Jesse ignored the pounding in her head and forced her mind to compute the odds. She could take the two closest men before they got off a round. As for the others, Cole would be caught in the crossfire and she would succeed in killing him this time. If she and Cole got lucky enough to get out in the confusion, there was no telling how many more guards Perez had, or if they could escape the compound the way they’d come in. By now, Perez would have men patrolling the fence. Chance of escape ran in the negative triple digits. Her training echoed in her head: watch, wait, and conserve energy. Better opportunities would arise. Be vigilant and ready.
An unarmed man stepped into the room from the archway and said in perfect English, “Drop your weapons.”
The man’s six foot four height and two hundred and fifty pound bulk were daunting, but it was his obsidian colored eyes that sent a shiver up Jesse’s spine. This man took pleasure in inflicting pain—and he ran the show.
She reached to unstrap her Beretta, but froze when the CR-21’s shifted onto her. She lifted her hands in a ‘hands off’ gesture. “You want us to drop our weapons or not?”
The man glanced at one of the guards and motioned toward her with a jerk of his head. The guard lowered his weapon and hurried to her. He stopped three inches away and leered. Jesse lifted a brow when he locked gazes with her and reached with one hand for her gun. He yanked the Velcro strap away from the Beretta, slid the gun from the holster, and drew the barrel up her inner thigh.
Jesse looked over the guard’s shoulder at the big man. “Your men need to get out more.”
“They’ll have plenty of entertainment tonight.” He motioned for another guard to approach her.
Jesse flicked a glance at Cole. Hands raised, he watched the scene impassively.
The guard who approached pressed the barrel of his CR-21 against her temple. The guard who had taken her gun, stuffed it into his waistband, then plucked the glasses from her face, nearly pulling off her ears. She grimaced at the jolt of pain. He tossed the high-tech wear to the man in charge, who caught them with a flick of h
is hand. Mr. Obsidian turned them under his scrutiny, then slid them inside his suit jacket. The guard faced Jesse, showed yellow teeth in a wide grin, then grabbed each side of her ops vest and yanked it open.
Jesse said in Spanish, “I bet all the girls love you.”
His lips thinned, then a satisfied glint appeared in his eyes as he grabbed the collar of her camouflage fatigue shirt. Jesse didn’t think even his large hands could tear the shirt’s reinforced neck, but she was yanked forward as the fabric tore down her back, burning the back of her neck when he yanked it off her.
She felt the eyes of the men on her and straightened as she shifted her gaze to the big man. “A sports bra. I wear less to the beach.”
The guard reached for the waistband of her pants.
Jesse maintained eye contact with Mr. Obsidian. “The pants will come off eventually, but I’ll kill him first.”
“Halto,” he said.
The guard stepped back and shot Jesse a belligerent look. She shrugged.
“Take them off,” the big man said.
Jesse undid the pants and let them fall to the floor. Yep. Boy-shorts were the panties of choice tonight. It wasn’t like she needed a thong for Cole’s sake. Nothing had happened between them and, the way things were shaping up, she wouldn’t be getting another crack at him anyway.
*****
After four hours, handcuffed and bouncing around in the back of a six-by-six, two-and–a-half-ton military truck with eight guards, the truck came to a jarring halt. Rain had started two hours ago and now poured from the sky, pounding on the canvas roof above their heads. Back at the hacienda, after stripping her to bra and panties, they had taken Cole’s weapon, shirt, and pants. Jesse had counted nineteen cigarette burns on his chest, arms and insides of his thighs. With his hands handcuffed behind his back, the muscles in his broad shoulders stretched taut. His legs looked like sin itself in those Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Calvin Klein. Mr. All American wore designer underwear.