“Did you get any sleep?” he inquired, tossing the empty container across the room and hitting the wastebasket dead-on. “I need you ready to go and frosty.”
“Frosty?” She rolled the bottle between her palms.
“Coolheaded. Prepared.”
“I slept some,” she answered.
“Thinking about Samantha?” he asked, his voice dropped, softened.
She nodded. It felt good to tell the truth, even a little truth.
His hand moved toward her and, for a heartbeat, she thought he might twine his fingers through hers. Pull her close. Comfort the sad sister. It was what most men would do. Well, most men who wanted to get into her pants.
She suspected that Xavier wasn’t like most men, which both scared the crap out of her and sent a current of excitement that started in her belly and spread outward.
But his hand stopped midway, angled sideways and the movement transformed into a disappointing muscle-stretch. “If the information is as good as you say, we’ll get her back,” he concluded.
“It’s good,” she assured him. “It took years to compile.” Opening the water, she drank a mouthful, the chilled liquid waking her like coffee couldn’t. “I’m surprised the government doesn’t have it. All they have to do is talk to the support group.”
“Taking FARC on has never been their priority. When they do and they get their asses handed back to them, that’s bad for public perception. Makes them appear weak.”
Xavier’s mouth turned downward, and his hands clenched into fists at his side. “So they ignore them, instead.”
Bethany shifted from one foot to another in the face of his anger. One day, soon, he’d look at her with that same mixture of disgust and resentment.
The thought made her ache.
And still, she couldn’t let it stop her.
“So what’s next?” she queried, setting the water on the floor next to the couch and changing the subject for both their sakes.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Xavier commented. He reached for her again, but this time his hand didn’t stop. He took her hand in his. “Bethany.” He said her name like a lover, his accent heavier than usual. His thumb stroked her palm and the warmth of his touch spread through her, making it hard to breathe. “I want to ask you again to stay behind. Let me do my job.”
Bethany froze. “What?”
He leaned toward her. So close that his breath brushed her neck, stroked her like a lover’s touch. “Give me the location. I’ll get Samantha and I can have one of my men begin talks with FARC to return Eva. Within a week, we can both have what we want. Our sisters will be home. Safe. All you have to do is wait here and let me do my job.”
Bethany leaned back, shocked. Did he think she was so weak that a simple seduction could change her mind? She gave him a pointed look. “Oh, my God. You are good.”
He raised a dark brow in question.
She scooted back on the couch, breaking his hold on her. “You are trying to play me.”
“Play you? What does that mean?” Confusion darkened his eyes.
“Play me. Use your charms to get me to do what you want.” She jumped to her feet and paced across the small room.
“I want you to do what is best for everyone involved,” he insisted.
Bethany stopped at the far side of the room and pivoted to face Xavier, hands on her hips. “Then ask. Don’t sit there and try to woo me, thinking that it’ll make me more pliable. I’m not that shallow or stupid.”
He glared at her, all charm gone. “You are inexperienced and yet want to take on FARC. Already, your intelligence is in question.”
“Do you think insulting me will change my mind?” Bethany snapped.
His jaw clenched tight, the muscles in his neck visible beneath the skin as he worked to regain control. “I am asking now. No woo, as you requested. Stay here. Let me do my job.”
Samantha was her responsibility and neither insults nor charm were going to deter her from finding her. Bethany shook her head. “You know the agreement. I go or the deal is off.”
Xavier rose and crossed the room, stopping inches from her and invading her personal space. She didn’t step back. If he wanted a battle of wills, he’d get one.
Toe-to-toe, his breath washed over her skin, but it was no longer a caress. Instead, the heat of his anger scorched her.
She met his hard gaze with her own.
“As you wish,” he muttered. “How long will it take to reach Samantha? In and out?”
Bethany went over the map, noting the landmarks—crevases, waterfalls and rivers—and estimating how long it would take a skilled team to navigate them. Two days in. Two out. One extra in case it all went wrong. “Five.”
Still gazing into her eyes, he pressed a piece of paper into her hand. “This is a hotel just outside the city. Make a reservation for an extra-long weekend.”
“Will that be enough time?”
“Plenty. We just need to make FARC think I am there. That is all.”
He was the expert. “Okay.”
“Make the reservation for two. King-size bed. Jacuzzi tub. Don’t forget the champagne.”
“More woo?” She crammed the paper into her pocket.
“Woo?” His slow, seductive smile sent a wave of heat through her gut, scaring up unexpected butterflies.
Suddenly, the thought of woo and Xavier didn’t seem as irritating as it did seconds ago. What was he like when he was with a woman? Tender? Fierce? Both? She swallowed back the desire to find out. “No woo. Please.”
His smile died. “We need a cover story for a few days. FARC is everywhere, waiting for me to screw up. I can’t give them the opportunity.” His fingers slid up her arm. “Use a different name for yourself. I don’t think they know who you are and we want to keep it that way.”
His hand slowed at her shoulder. “They must believe we’re lovers.”
Bethany fought her urge to lean into his touch. “I can do that,” she confirmed, her voice half an octave higher than normal.
“Can you?” His hand slid to the back of her neck and he pulled her closer until their lips were inches apart. “I know how the wooing makes you angry.”
“It does,” she whispered, captivated by his caress and both wishing he would stop teasing her and wishing it would never stop.
He breathed her in, his lips a breadth from hers. Then he released her. Bethany stumbled forward, catching herself before she fell into him. His touch turned her into an idiot. How was she going to survive spending time with him in a hotel? Or even the jungle?
“We leave at sunset.” He stopped, hand on the doorknob. “Keep your secret, but I need a starting point for the team.”
She nodded, grateful to get back to business. “We’ll meet three kilometers south of San Pedro on Highway 25. From there, we take dirt roads to here.” She pointed to her first reference point on the map. “Then we hike.”
“Be ready.” He stepped into the hallway. The sounds of the bar filtered up the stairs then disappeared as he slammed the door shut.
Bethany stared at the closed door and touched the back of her neck where Xavier’s hand had rested. Her skin was still hot. Tingly. Woo.
“Jerk.”
Bethany sat in the open window, hating the downtime as she waited for Xavier to do whatever it was he did. It gave her mind too much time to think and worry. Was her mother doing well? She was still in the coma, to be sure, but there were so many potential complications that came with the risky procedure.
And how was Samantha? Was she outside? Was she chained inside a hut? What were they doing to her baby sister?
She missed them both, so much. Bethany wiped her tearing eyes. Damn, she didn’t like to cry and she hated missing people. “I’m coming for you. I promise. Just hang in there. And we’ll be together again. All of us.”
“She’ll be home soon,” Xavier declared, his low voice just over her shoulder.
Startled, Bethany jerked and grabbed the wind
ow frame to keep from falling out. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I know.” He held out a hand to help her down from the ledge. “Next time, you should keep your attention on the door.”
“How long have you been there?” She wiped her eyes again. The only thing worse than crying was Xavier seeing her cry.
“Long enough,” he observed, his hand still out.
She gazed at it not sure what it would signal if she accepted his offer of assistance, no matter how small. Would he see that was weakness? Or a sign they were a team?
She took it. His hand almost swallowed hers. His skin was rough but warm. She hopped down from the ledge. “I made the reservation. I got the honeymoon suite. My treat.”
“Who’s wooing who?” He chuckled. His hand tightened before he let her go.
Surprised, she smiled back. It was good to see he had a sense of humor or it would be a long trip into the jungle. She gave an exaggerated shake of her head. “I promise to not seduce you.”
“That’s disappointing,” he murmured. Xavier’s gaze dropped to her feet and then worked his way along her body, his unexpected appreciation as hot as his touch.
No squirming this time, Bethany steeled herself, chin up and back straight. No turning into a gibbering idiot. Let him look.
His eyes locked with hers. Glittering and dark, they offered a dare. To do what, she wasn’t sure, but she knew a dare when one stared her in the eye.
And she knew desire. His eyes drank her in and offered her solace…if she dared accept.
She broke their gaze, took a step back and bumped into the windowsill. “We should leave.”
“Agreed.” A slow smile curved his mouth. There was no desire behind the smile now. There was something else. Something she recognized in herself. The “I win” grin.
Dammit. She’d underestimated him and his desire to succeed. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. She wrapped her arms across her chest.
Xavier’s grin widened. “You will be happy to know that I have already laid a foundation for our weekend.” Leaving her at the window, he walked to his dresser, opened drawers and stuffed clothes into a small duffle.
“How so?” she asked, kicking herself for giving him the metaphorical upper hand.
“I bragged to the bar,” he explained. “Told them all about you, my new lover, and how we were going to spend the weekend naked. And that it might involve food. Possibly props.”
Bethany’s eyes widened. “My cover is a slutty whore?”
“Isn’t ‘slutty whore’ redundant?”
“Fine. Whore.” She buried her face in her hands.
Xavier laughed. “Not a whore. Let’s go with easy.”
She peeked at him between her fingers, wishing she didn’t need him.
“What did you expect?” he asked. “We needed a cover. This one works. No one will question us.”
She dropped her hands. “I know, but I don’t have to like it.”
He cocked his head. “Seems like we both have to do things we don’t like.”
“Looks like,” she replied.
Xavier held up a gun. “Do you prefer the .325 or the 9 millimeter?”
Bethany hesitated. It wasn’t as if she’d never shot a gun. She’d even shot the occasional animal when necessity demanded it. This was different. This was to protect herself from the members of FARC.
Despite the fact they were the enemy, the thought of shooting a person was unsettling.
That didn’t mean she wouldn’t do it. “The nine,” she decided, forcing her voice to remain steady. She could shoot the larger caliber but her aim would suffer. Better to go with accuracy.
Xavier nodded, tossed two of each plus holsters into the duffle and tied it shut. “Vamanos, mi amor,” he announced, with overemphasis on the amor.
She didn’t speak much Spanish. Most of what she knew she gleaned from Shakira or Ozomatli music, but knew it was time to leave and play the part of Xavier’s lover. “Jackass,” she muttered under her breath as she picked up her pack to follow.
Xavier opened the door for her, flashing his “I win” grin at her as she edged past him in the tight stairwell.
He thought he won? Let him think it. She’d pay him back, and when she did, he’d regret toying with her. She smiled back with as much sarcasm as she could convey and headed down the stairs.
Chattering, the clink of glasses and the blaring of a Spanish television show increased as she grew closer. But when she stepped into the room, it went silent with all eyes on her.
Behind her, Xavier made a comment in Spanish. For a moment, she thought the crowd of men might cheer.
Bethany raised her hand in a self-conscious wave and headed forward, wishing the normal conversation level would resume before she melted into the floor from embarrassment.
Instead, there were winks, nudges and blatant stares as the crowd parted like the Red Sea around her.
She’d have preferred cheering.
Tightening her grip on her pack, she reminded herself this was for Samantha and held her head high as she walked the gauntlet with Xavier behind her.
She passed a man dressed in a black and gold jersey and he whispered something in Spanish to the man next to him. Laughter followed. Whatever he said, it wasn’t complimentary.
Xavier slapped her on the butt.
Bethany stopped in her tracks. There was providing cover and there was overkill. Smacking her butt fell into the latter. The crowd’s laughter stopped as if cut off by a knife.
Slowly, she faced Xavier. His smirk went all the way to his eyes and fueled her growing anger.
He thought that he’d make her squirm? That he was going to beat her? She’d show him what a Darrow girl was made of. Her gaze locked with his, Bethany set her backpack at her feet.
Xavier’s smirk shifted into unease and hesitation. He held his hands palms out to show he was teasing. “Lo siento, mi amor. Lo siento.”
An apology? If so, it wasn’t enough. Not by far. She stepped into his space. He didn’t back away.
Good. She wanted this lesson to be up close and personal. Grabbing the front of his shirt, Bethany pulled herself upward until her mouth was level with his. “For the audience,” she whispered as she pressed her lips against his.
Xavier stiffened and for a breath, Bethany thought she’d won. That he’d break the kiss. Then his hand snaked around her waist. He pulled her tightly against him, claiming victory. Or trying to.
Like hell. This was her game.
Around them, the crowd roared in approval, but the pounding in Bethany’s ears overshadowed their laughter.
Bethany rose on her toes, wrapped her arms around Xavier’s neck and traced his mouth with her tongue. He countered by nipping at her lower lip.
Warm heat flushed outward from her middle, making her breathe harder. Bastard. She increased the pressure of her kiss, pressing herself against him while she teased him. Tasted him.
He didn’t relent but lifted her until her feet left the floor, and she dangled in his arms.
The heat between them cloaked her like a blanket, melting her, but she refused to relent. She wasn’t going to lose. Not when she’d started this game.
If she didn’t, she’d never live it down.
“Señorita!” Someone tugged at both her and Xavier. He lowered her to her feet and broke the kiss. Laughing, the bartender shook a set of car keys and said something that she couldn’t understand.
She made a mental note to learn Spanish when she returned home.
Xavier snatched the keys. “Time to go,” he said, his voice rough.
Agreed. Bethany fought the urge to fan her face and picked up her backpack instead. Around them the crowd continued to hoot and cheer, the cries following them out into the street.
The door swung shut behind her and Bethany took a deep breath, as the cooling night air washed over her. With Xavier in front of her leading the way, she traced her still tingling mouth with the tips of her fingers.
&nb
sp; She wasn’t going to do that again. While she didn’t think Xavier won their little public power struggle, she wasn’t sure she could lift her arms in triumph, either.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Bethany indicated as soon as the bellman left. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”
Xavier tossed his duffle and Bethany’s backpack on a bed big enough for four. Bethany hadn’t been kidding when she had said she’d booked them the honeymoon suite. The sitting area offered an overstuffed, deep blue couch, a fireplace and champagne in a bucket with crystal glasses waiting for them. “Ideas? I wouldn’t dream of it,” he lied, knowing he’d do just that.
Kissing the guide in the bar had been a cross between hand-to-hand combat and foreplay. A weird erotic mix that left him wanting more.
“You sure?” Bethany asked, taking a seat at the end of the bed. “You seemed more than enthusiastic earlier.”
Little minx. She thought she was so clever. “Positive,” he proclaimed, sitting next to her and falling onto his back. “Because we’re not staying the night.”
She twisted around, her brows arches. “What?”
“I told you this was cover, nothing more,” he repeated. “There will be someone to take our place in an hour, and then we will leave through the back door.”
“Oh.” She didn’t look convinced.
“As long as the night staff doesn’t see them, it’s fine.” While not a perfect plan, it was simple, and it was the simple ones that garnered success.
Sitting up, Xavier dumped his duffle bag onto the bed. There wasn’t much inside. Dark shirt, black military-issue pants and their guns. “I hope you brought more clothes than what you’re wearing.”
Her upper lip curled. “It’s not my first rodeo.”
Touchy. Touchy. Xavier ducked his head to hide his smile. “Good. Change now and remember that whatever you’re wearing, you’ll be in it for the next few days.”
Xavier pulled his shirt over his head as she picked up her pack and went to the bathroom.
She kicked the door shut behind her, but not before he caught a glimpse of her pulling her own shirt off, giving him a view of her strong, but feminine, back.
He imagined what she looked like as she continued to undress…standing in nothing but bra and panties. Strong lean muscles stretching. Soft skin turned pale in the light. Her dark hair undone and reaching to the middle of her back, begging for his touch.
Mercenary’s Promise Page 3