Mercenary’s Promise

by Sharron McClellan

  “Dios mío,” he muttered. Thinking of Bethany naked was not going to help in this mission. In fact, it would do quite the opposite.

  Forcing himself to focus, he grabbed a black, long-sleeved shirt and slid it on. Over that, his shoulder holster. Then black fatigues.

  When Bethany emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, he was dressed and waiting for her.

  She wore a long-sleeved, black T-shirt as well, paired with black cargo pants not unlike his. Low on her hips was the holster he’d given her, a weapon on the side of each firm thigh.

  He’d seen women carry guns before, but he’d never considered them sexy. Seeing Bethany made him reassess the decision. “It seems we shop at the same places,” she noted. “Nice shoes.”

  He glanced at her feet. She wore black Doc Marten boots that were twin to his.

  “Looks like,” he concurred.

  Her mouth turned up in a broad smile. The first real one he’d seen, he realized, since she’d walked into his bar this morning. And it transformed her face into something akin to angelic.

  “What now?” she prompted, walking past him and stuffing her other clothes into her pack. “We wait?

  He noticed that she’d braided her hair down the back and tied it with a strip of leather. A kick-ass angel. “We give the staff something to remember.” He patted the bed next to him. “We make love. Loud.”

  Bethany’s smile fell, and she crossed her chest with her arms, transforming from angel to annoyed imp. “Excuse me?”

  “We act. We sell the lie,” he said with a chuckle. “What did you think I meant?”

  Her shoulders relaxed and she let her arms drop. “It’s hard to tell with you.”

  She made it so easy to tease her that it was almost impossible to resist, but he promised himself to try. He patted the bed again. “Let’s do it.”

  “This,” she corrected. “Let’s do this. We are not doing it.” She walked past him and sat on the bed, facing the headboard. “A little help?” she requested, glancing at him over her shoulder.

  He gave a nod of acquiescence and knelt next to her. Hands pressed against the heavy wooden frame, they pushed it against the wall, making it thump. “Again.” Xavier said.

  They pushed it again. And again. “Make some noise,” Xavier urged. “Are you always this quiet in bed?”

  Bethany gave him an exasperated sigh. “Give it to me,” she cried out. “Give it to me hard.”

  Xavier choked on a laugh and glanced at Bethany. A smile lit her face. The angel was back. And it was laughing. “Sorry,” she said, her voice low. “You said you wanted noise.”

  “I did ask,” Xavier replied, a little stunned at her choice of words. Damn, but she was a constant surprise. Of all places to find amusement, he didn’t think it would be here. On a bed. Especially when the thought of anything physical with him seemed to make her angry.

  She gave a loud realistic moan. “Oh, God, Xavier. Oh, God.”

  Too realistic. Once again, the thought of Bethany naked washed over him. Her soft skin caressing him. Her long hair tickling his chest as she worked her way down his body.

  Dios mío indeed. Xavier gave the headboard an extra hard push.

  “You might want to make some sound,” Bethany said.

  “Men don’t make sounds,” he replied. He was more of a whisper-in-the-ear kind of man.

  “You’re the one that said we needed to be noticed. Unless you’re scared.”

  The taunt was obvious but struck hard. “You would call me a coward?”

  “No,” Bethany objected, smiling. “Just saying that I’ll do whatever it takes and I’m not so sure about you.”

  Xavier narrowed his eyes. How could he have ever thought the woman next to him was an angel? “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he assured her. With one arm, he pulled her close. “Whatever it takes,” he whispered into her ear.

  Despite the sound of the headboard thumping against the wall, he heard her breath catch.

  Someone knocked on their door.

  Xavier released Bethany and drew a weapon with the other hand, ready for a fight.

  Chapter 3

  “Your contacts?” Bethany whispered, working to keep the tremble from her voice.

  Xavier held a finger to his lips for silence and rose from the bed. Bethany drew both her weapons to cover him, her hands shaking at the thought of a gunfight.

  “If so, they are early,” Xavier replied, edging towards the door. “And one can never be too careful.” He held a hand out, motioning her back. “Stay there.”

  “What are you doing?”

  He took a position to one side of the entrance. “¿Quién es?” he called out.

  “¿Quién usted piensa? Absolutamente siendo estúpido y abra la puerta.”

  Xavier glanced toward her again, the message in his eyes louder than words. Be ready. Still standing to the side, Xavier opened the door.

  A man waited in the hallway. He wore jeans, a maroon button-down shirt and mirrored sunglasses despite the fact it was now night. His hair was trimmed an inch or two shorter than Xavier’s. But they were close enough in appearance to pass as brothers as long as the lighting was dim and no one looked too close.

  Behind him, his companion shifted into view. For a moment, Bethany forgot to breathe. With her deep brown hair, easy smile and green eyes, the woman could be Samantha.

  Or herself.

  The man stepped inside, glanced at the gun and smiled. “Xavier!”

  Xavier holstered his weapon and Bethany holstered hers with a sigh of relief. “I take it these are our replacements?” she asked, walking forward.

  “You take it right,” Xavier replied. “Bethany, this is Joaquin and Daria. They’re with RADEC.”

  Revolucionarias Armadas de Colombia. Fiona had told her about them. Dedicated to bringing freedom to Colombia, its members were once considered rebels, but now they worked with the government. Xavier had been one of their leaders but left to dedicate his time to recovering FARC hostages.

  “You’re early,” Xavier pointed out, sweeping his hand to the couch. The couple sat down. “Do we have a problem?”

  Joaquin held up his fingers a few inches apart. “Un poco.”

  “English, please,” Xavier instructed as he paced across the room. “What is happening?”

  “We have word that FARC is sending a spy to watch the hotel,” Joaquin reported, his expression grim.

  “How do you know they haven’t already arrived?” Xavier asked.

  “They didn’t figure out which hotel until a while ago. But now that they know, they aren’t wasting time.”

  Bethany went cold. She knew they’d be watching Xavier but thought they’d get a little lead time. She supposed she should count them lucky that they got wind of there being a spy at all.

  Joaquin continued, “You need to go before they arrive, or it will be impossible to get away without being spotted.”

  Xavier stopped pacing and went to the bedroom. When he came out moments later, he held Bethany’s backpack in one hand and a jacket for himself in the other. He tossed her gear to Bethany.

  She caught it midair and slung a strap over her shoulder, carrying the bag like an oversized purse. Untucking her shirt, she pulled it down to hide the weapons at her side.

  Daria said something in Spanish and Joaquin replied. Bethany felt for the girl. She seemed to be in the same boat—albeit for English—when it came to the language barrier and Bethany sympathized with her frustration at not knowing what was going on.

  The RADEC pair rose. This time, Daria addressed Xavier in Spanish too fast for Bethany to understand even a single word. She handed him another set of car keys.

  “Gracias.” Xavier kissed the girl’s cheeks then put his jacket on. “Joaquin, enjoy the room and try not to spend too much of Bethany’s money.”

  “No promises,” Joaquin teased with a slight smile.

  “Let’s do this,” Xavier said. Opening the door, he glanced down the hallway. �
��Clear.” He motioned for Bethany to follow. She hurried behind him.

  “Good luck,” Joaquin said.

  Bethany paused before she shut the door. “Thanks.”

  The carpeted passage was empty with the occasional muffled conversation filtering through the walls. Once again, Xavier held a finger to his lips and pointed down the hall to the lit exit sign. Bethany nodded. Side by side, they moved with a pace that was closer to a power walk than a stroll.

  Once there, Xavier didn’t hesitate but pushed through the exit, pulling one of his guns as soon as the door closed behind them. Bethany did the same. Treading through the dark, they made their way down the stairwell, the occasional shuffle of a footstep breaking the dim silence.

  Bethany’s skin prickled in anticipation. She wouldn’t feel safe until they were away from the hotel and in the jungle. Panthers and bugs she could deal with, but FARC spies made her jumpier than she had ever imagined.

  Two floors below them, a door squealed and a swatch of light illuminated the darkness of the stairwell. Xavier stopped at the third-floor landing, one hand on the door ready to exit.

  Two male voices echoed in the stairwell. They spoke in Spanish, but after a few seconds, Bethany caught a word she understood, Xavier.

  FARC. She needed to buy lottery tickets. Adrenaline surged through her. For a moment, she thought her pounding heart might beat out of her chest.

  Xavier yanked open the door to the third floor, and it squealed on its hinges. Behind them, the footsteps in the stairwell sped up.

  “Hurry,” Xavier said, stopping to hit the elevator button as they sprinted past.

  Bethany slowed, but the elevator doors remained closed. “We need an open room,” she said, not knowing what she would do if discovered. “Bathroom. Another freaking stairwell. Something.”

  They ran down the hallway, and Xavier herded her towards a door with a picture of a woman on it. They hurried inside a small room filled with buckets and brooms. A maid’s closet.

  Xavier clicked the lock and they crouched down in the small room.

  “Think they’ll fall for it?” she whispered, trying not to sneeze as the smell of bleach and air freshener tickled her nose.

  “As long as they don’t find us, they’ll assume it was a guest that went into a room. Why think otherwise?”

  She hoped he was right. If not, they were screwed. Samantha was screwed. And so was Eva. Outside, the elevator dinged its arrival, and the squeal of the third-floor exit door told them their pursuers were close. Bethany strained to hear the FARC spies and caught a muffled shuffling coming toward them, then past their hiding place. She started to rise. “We should go.”

  “Not yet,” Xavier murmured, his hand on her shoulder. “Give them a minute.”

  “What if they find us?” she asked.

  “We do what we have to,” he said, his voice flat.

  He meant kill them. Her stomach tightened.

  “I told you it might come to this,” Xavier reminded her.

  He had, and a part of her wished she’d taken him up on his offer of leaving her behind. To accept Xavier’s offer to save Samantha. It was his job. What he did.

  Let him kill the bad men.

  But Samantha was her sister, her responsibility and she couldn’t just sit back and wait. Not even when she wanted to. “I’m good,” she replied, her voice almost inaudible.

  “Can I count on you to pull the trigger if it comes to that?” he asked.

  She’d already traveled to Colombia and hired a mercenary. What were a few bullets? But the thought did nothing to quell the butterflies. “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to save my sister.”

  Taking her hand in his, he kissed the knuckles. “I believe you.”

  For a split second, warmth replaced the cold fear that covered her. A click sounded as someone on the other side of the door tested the lock. The cold returned.

  Xavier dropped her hand, and the whisper of metal and plastic against leather as he pulled his gun made her heart beat even harder.

  Whoever stood outside yanked with more force, but the door held.

  Go away. Go away. She chanted the mantra in her head. There’s nothing here. Just us mops.

  More voices caught her attention. FARC reinforcements? At this rate, there would be an entire militia out there.

  Whoever was yanking on the door ceased pulling and muffled voices became audible. A minute later, the voices faded.

  “What happened?” she muttered. “What did they say?”

  “Room service came by. They wanted to know what our friends wanted.”

  Bethany sighed in relief and smiled in the dark. The air shifted as Xavier stood, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s move. They might return and we want to be long gone if they do.”

  It was almost midnight when Xavier drove Daria and Joaquin’s car, a beat-up, cherry-red Mustang, off the side of the road and into a clearing. He cut the engine.

  “This is it?” Bethany asked. They were perched on the edge of the jungle with not a city light or body in sight.

  “It’s where you pointed at on the map,” Xavier clarified, getting out.

  Bethany stepped into the night and breathed deep. The smell of earthy decay and night-blooming flowers had replaced the acrid scents of the city. She stretched, working the kinks out of her back from the long car ride and enjoyed the silence.

  Jungle or desert, the great outdoors was where she belonged.

  She wished she’d arrived under better circumstances. “How long before your men get here?” Bethany inquired, eager to get moving.

  “Soon.” Opening the trunk of the car, he set her backpack on the ground, pulled out a large piece of cloth and handed her a corner. “Help me with this.”

  It was camouflage netting she realized. Not cloth.

  Together, they unfolded it, walking the net over the car. Gathering branches, brush and leaves, they covered the vehicle until it looked like a pile of vegetation, as long as no one took the time to look too close.

  “Ese. We wondered when you would arrive,” an unknown voice said.

  Bethany pulled her weapon, pointing it into the dark. “Nice reflexes,” Xavier remarked, pushing the barrel down until it pointed at the ground.

  “Thanks,” she acknowledged, hand trembling. “I told you I was a trained guide.”

  Two men walked into the clearing, moving shadows in the light of the moon.

  “So you did,” Xavier conceded. Moving past her, he wrapped an arm around one man, then the other and walked them over to Bethany. They wore black, as well. “This is Sebastian.” Xavier pushed one man forward. As tall as Xavier, his lean physique and short hair made her think of a swimmer.

  “And Tomas.” An inch shorter than Xavier, Tomas was broad and radiated a quiet strength. He shrugged Xavier off. “Good evening, Bethany. We’re pleased to meet you.”

  “Xavier has told us much about you,” Sebastian said, emphasizing the much.

  Bethany snuck a glance at Xavier. He talked about her? “Like what?” she asked, curious.

  “Shut up, Sebastian,” Xavier growled.

  “He told us how much he thinks of you,” Sebastian continued, behaving as if Xavier didn’t exist. “Not many women would have the pelotas to take on FARC, and he admires that.”

  “Pelotas?” Bethany repeated.

  “It means crazy,” Xavier translated, frowning. “A lack of common sense.”

  Sebastian laughed at the explanation and slapped Xavier on the shoulder.

  Liar. The boy’s club reaction made her suspect it meant something that men thought was funny and few women found amusing. She let the lie slide, knowing she wouldn’t get a truthful answer, anyway. “But you admire me?”

  “Sebastian’s English is sketchy. He said I think of you. He didn’t say what I thought.”

  “My English, it not sketchy,” Sebastian countered. “Now Tomas, that is another matter.”

  Tomas shrugged. It was obvious he understood, but was
a classic man of few words. Sebastian’s opposite.

  “Where to, chica?” Sebastian asked. “You have the coordinates, yes?”

  Kneeling down, Bethany opened her backpack, extracting a small flashlight and a topographic map of the country. Flicking on the light, she held it in her teeth and unfolded the map until she found the square she wanted. She handed Xavier the light. “We’re here?”

  “Yes,” Xavier replied.

  So far, so good. “We need to get to here.” She put a finger on the first checkpoint. It was in the jungle and partway into the Andean mountain range, elevation one thousand feet.

  “How do you know that is your sister’s location?” Sebastian questioned, leaning in.

  “This isn’t her location,” Bethany said. “She’s farther along. This is part way. I’ll tell you the exact coordinates once we’re closer, and not until, so don’t bother to push it.”

  The men looked more amused by her snippy retort than angry. Sebastian said something to Xavier and Tomas in Spanish and the men chuckled.

  Her cheeks burned. She might not understand the language but she knew when a joke was being made at her expense. “That’s rude,” she retorted, folding the map into smaller square.

  “What?” Xavier asked.

  As if he didn’t know? “Talking about me in Spanish when you know I can’t understand.”

  The men fell silent. “Our apologies,” Xavier said.

  Bethany took a step back in surprise. Despite the fact she had the map and was paying him, she expected an argument. After all, her calling the shots hadn’t stopped him yet.

  She tucked the map into her pocket. Just when she thought she had Xavier pegged, he did something unexpected. Like apologize.

  She nodded. There was nothing to do but be gracious. “Apology accepted.”

  He turned the flashlight on Sebastian and Tomas. “Where is the camp?”

  “Just inside the jungle,” Sebastian relayed, heading back the way they’d emerged.

  “We’re not leaving?” Bethany observed.