Deadly Little Lies

by Jeanne Adams

  “If you keep that up,” he said, and she felt the words echo in his chest under her seeking fingers, “we may end up in a compromising position, Carrie-mou.”

  The thought of being clean, the sensual delight of it, was heating her blood. His hot skin under her hands was turning that sensation up a hundredfold.

  “And if I put you in a compromising position?” She moved closer, pressing her body, her breasts, to his back, sliding her hands around to caress his chest and belly.

  “I will protest, but I think it will be in vain as you’ve already—” He stopped talking when her hands cruised lower, finding him hard and ready.

  “What, no words? No banter?” She kissed his back, bent her knees so she could press a line of approval down his spine.

  “I’m without words,” he managed, and she felt his body clench as she carefully tightened her grip on him. Polishing the dirt from his skin was as sensual an experience as she could ever remember. When he turned to her, lifting her wet hair to kiss her neck, his big hands glided down her shoulders, down her arms, around her back to pull her closer.

  The water splashed and danced on them and around them, its cool embrace making their caresses hotter, making his skin and his body feel like the flame he’d named her.

  When he drew her closer, fitting her body to his, she wanted to purr, to shout with delight. She pulled her mouth away, denying him, but only briefly. Instead, she used her lips to mark a path down the front of his body this time, kneeling before him to enjoy the taste and shape of him. His groan of pleasure made her want more, more of everything, more of him, more feelings, more sensations.

  She let him pull her upward, enjoyed the powerful sense of him taking her in a deep, plundering kiss, letting him lift her, helping her wrap her legs around him as she slid over him, onto him.

  When they connected, flesh to flesh and body to body, they both cried out. It was an exquisite pleasure to feel him fill her, feel her own body heat to a flash point and envelop him.

  “Carrie-mou.” He cried her name, lifting her slightly as he drove upward, into her, giving her all that she wanted and more.

  “The wall,” she said, meeting his powerful thrusts, needing more.

  “Your back,” he began, and she could have screamed in frustration.

  “I’m not fragile.” She growled the words, fisting her hands in his hair. “I want you to take me. Now. Up against the wall.” When he hesitated, she insisted. “Now, now, now, Dav.”

  “Your wish,” he muttered, into her throat where he was devastating her with his tongue and mouth, “is my command.”

  She felt the solid, slick stone behind her and braced against it, using the unyielding surface to lever herself up, then come down to meet his thrusting hips. It felt better than anything she’d ever felt, better than any other time they’d made love, even.

  “Nownownownownow!” she demanded, using everything she had to bring him to the brink with her, to fuel his need with her own and release the nearly unbearable pleasure that was building between them.

  “Yes, now,” he agreed, his hands underneath her, driving her in closer even as she pulled away and came back. “Now, Carrie. Mine,” he cried as he closed his eyes and threw back his head, powering her upward with his complete abandon to their passion.

  “Ahhhh ...” She felt the waves swamp her, the pulsating, amazing delight of a blinding surrender.

  It was as if she could feel everything, and nothing. The sound of their harsh breathing echoed around the chamber, but she also felt deafened, stunned by the depth and power of their lovemaking.

  He rested his head on her breast, his shoulders heaving as he panted. She felt the heat of his breath, shivering her sensitive skin and nearly sending her into another orgasm.

  “You,” he said, and his voice was a rasp of sound, “are spectacular.”

  She bent to kiss his beautiful hair, jet black and slicked to his head from the water. She traced along his hairline, enjoyed the faintest hint of silver at the temples. She loved the look of him, the heavy muscle, the broad shoulders.

  “I’d say the same of you,” she said, struggling suddenly to form the words, to get them past the realization that lodged in her chest that she was deeply, irrevocably in love with him.

  “What?” he said, raising his head to meet her gaze, feeling the change in her, somehow. “What is it?”

  “I,” she began, and had to swallow against a dry throat. How had he sensed that change, her shift of emotion? His dark eyes were watchful, waiting. “I just realized I must be getting heavy,” she said. It was lame, and she knew it.

  He smiled, lifting her enough to help her slide down and set her feet on the wet floor, holding her steady as she found her balance.

  “Never too heavy, my flame.” With a searing tenderness, he framed her face and kissed her—a deep, passionate, lingering kiss. A lover’s kiss.

  She wanted to make a joke, break the moment, do something to shift the focus from her, from what they were doing. Looking in his eyes, the need passed. He drew her in and held her, his honest and obvious tenderness stripping her of the ability to speak. She couldn’t dismiss it, or him. Not when he looked at her that way.

  “You will not put me off this time, my love,” he murmured. “I care for you. You need to know this. This passion between us is not just the heat of the moment. There was much I had wanted to say to you, even before.”

  “I know,” she managed, closing her eyes. “I know.”

  As if sensing her conflicted emotions, he tucked her head under his chin, banded his arms around her in the most wonderful hug she’d ever felt. In one moment, one contact, he made her feel safe, and whole. She felt secure and sexy and magnificent, despite the conditions, despite the desperation of their situation.

  For that moment, that one moment, nothing else mattered. Filled with a sense of well-being, she drifted off to sleep in his arms.

  Chapter 14

  “Where are we?” Ana asked, sitting up in the passenger seat. The sun was setting and they were on a long stretch of tarmac. There weren’t any other cars visible.

  “Wildlife sanctuary. Local contact said it was the fastest way to get to where we need to go that wouldn’t break the suspension on the cars.”

  “Ah, that would explain the lack of lights or other cars.”

  “Not tourist season right now either.”

  “What is?”

  “December through February, mostly,” Callahan answered from the backseat. “I looked it up.”

  “Any other intel?” Ana looked at Gates, noting the strain in his face. It showed in the fine lines around his eyes, the tightness in his jaw. It wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else.

  Well, she amended the thought, Dav would have noticed.

  “Not yet. We’re out of range of most of the cell towers and Geddey is going to call on the satellite phone if he can’t get us by cell.” Gates indicated the larger phone plugged into the dash cigarette lighter. In this older model GMC vehicle, it was a lighter rather than a port.

  “Good. How far are we from the airstrip we’re headed for?”

  “Another fifty miles, maybe forty minutes under these conditions.”

  “You want me to drive so you can get thirty minutes shuteye?” she asked, eyes straight ahead. She didn’t want the others to think he was less than sharp, nor did she want him to think she was questioning his readiness. She did know, however, that she was fresher for the nap.

  “Probably a good idea,” he admitted, to her surprise, “but I won’t be able to sleep.”

  “Hmm,” she agreed, knowing he was right. She was surprised she’d been able to. “Holden, you have your kit?”

  “In the back. Ready to rock. If Mr. Gianikopolis was at that airstrip, I can find traces of him.”

  “Did you have time to get the stuff from Detective Baxter?” Gates asked.

  “The sample?” Holden sat forward and Ana could see the eagerness in his eyes. He was so new to Dav’s te
am, he hadn’t developed the familiarity the others had. “Yes. I’ll be able to identify Ms. McCray as well.”

  “Good. Callahan? You have your kit?”

  “Got it. No matter where that plane’s been, I’ll be able to trace its path, and any communications they’ve made.”

  “It’s just a matter of getting there, then,” Ana said with a sigh. She watched the road before them, wishing it would pass more quickly. There wasn’t much to see but trees and jungle-y, vine-y thickets on either side of the road. None of the trees were terribly tall. She was about to comment when Holden beat her to it.

  “Pretty low trees. I guess that’s the hurricane’s work. They’ve not had a really bad one since Hazel, but they’ve had enough tropical storms to knock down trees, keep things on the regeneration curve.”

  “Thanks, Willard Scott,” Callahan muttered.

  Holden gave her a questioning look. “Who’s Willard Scott?”

  Ana snickered. “Showing your age, Callahan,” she teased.

  Callahan looked mortified. “Am not. When my great-gramma turned a hundred, he came to see her. I looked him up on the Internet.”

  “So, he’s a meteorologist?” Holden was now delighted. “Cool. Why’d he come see your great-gramma?” His puzzlement amused her, so Ana answered.

  “It was his schtick,” she replied, laughing. “He always did a thing on octogenarians. He’d have a picture or a memento or something every day, wish two or three of them happy birthday. Used to amaze me that there were so many.”

  “I always wondered about that too,” Gates admitted. “We’re rising,” he added. “Altitude.”

  “Time to check in.” She inserted an earpiece into her ear, tuned a radio at her belt. “Advance team, you’re on.”

  A quiet voice replied. “Glad you’re in range. No activity at the site. We came in from separate directions, swept clockwise. Nothing moving. Thermal scan shows nothing but some animals.”

  “Gut feeling?” Ana asked.

  “It’s clear. There’s a bolt on the swing-bar gate. You’ll need cutters,” came a second quiet voice. Both men on the advance team were undercover and in full stealth mode. Going into this kind of situation, it was best to have several days of advance scouting, Ana knew, but since they’d only found out a location today, it was the best they could do.

  “Stay alert, Bromley-two out,” she said. The sharp intake of breath over the earpiece and the flash of a grin on Gates’s face amused her. He was inordinately pleased that she’d taken his name.

  Filling the rest of the team in on the report ate up some of the time, but it still seemed interminable, waiting for action, waiting to get there.

  The landscape changed again as they continued to climb. Belize was mostly flat and tropical with a ridge of stony plateaus close to the border with Guatemala. All the Mayan ruins were in the mountainous areas, as well as some of the most popular tourist sites. Ana focused on the road in front of them, and as they passed one of the infrequent markers, she consulted the map she held.

  “We’ve got a turn coming up.”

  It was like electricity. Everyone in the vehicle came to attention, like hunting dogs on scent. From the rustling she heard in her earpiece, she was sure it was the same in the following vehicle.

  Ana picked up the walkie-talkie. “Ears in, everyone. And check.” Everyone checked their mics and earpieces in record time.

  The turn was plainly marked as private property, and the road was well maintained, the gate recently painted. Ana checked her weapon as they made the turn, heard more than saw Holden do the same. The second vehicle would provide covering fire if there was someone at the airstrip that the advance team had missed.

  She saw Gates’s snarky grin. “Private, my ass. Callahan, you got cutters back there?”

  “Ready as soon as you stop, boss.”

  “Go,” he said as the heavy car slowed, its tires kicking up dust into the late-afternoon sunshine. Callahan was out and at the bar, clipping the padlock with an obvious effort before anyone could say another word. She swung the gate open and motioned them through, putting a foot on the running board and grabbing a handhold on the roof rack as the car rolled past. Gates powered down the back window and Callahan passed the bolt cutters in to Holden.

  In the sideview mirror, Ana could see that she, too, had her weapon at the ready.

  “She climbing in?” Holden asked.

  “No,” Ana said. “She’s outrider. She’ll drop before we stop, cover us.”

  “Oh.” Holden swallowed nervously. “Right.”

  “You checked on that weapon?” Gates said calmly.

  “Yessir, but not in this kind of situation.”

  “Got it,” Gates said. “Hang back then, make sure we’re clear before you get out. You’re too important to the op to lose to a stray bullet.”

  Ana saw Holden straighten, his protest dying on his lips. Somehow, Gates had managed, with tone, body language and a few simple words, to help a young guy feel like an essential part of the team rather than someone who couldn’t handle a weapon.

  “We can’t afford to lose anyone, everyone’s vital,” Ana added, sliding her hand across the seat to squeeze Gates’s arm, trying to convey approval, respect and love in one quick caress.

  His brief smile said he understood what she was saying with the contact. And that he appreciated it.

  Amazing how easy it was. With Gates.

  Without missing a beat, he reached down and caught her hand in a fast grip and released it. “Look sharp, people,” he said.

  “Car two, hang back, let us go in first so we don’t get boxed,” Ana instructed. “As soon as we’re out, loose the hounds.”

  “Let me guess,” Gates said, without ever losing one iota of watchfulness, “you’ve always wanted to say that.”

  “Yeah—” she grinned. “Yeah, I have.” He knew her so well.

  The narrow drive widened out to a cleared space where a small building sat. Beyond it was a ramshackle hangar. Two planes sat inside in plain view, but other than that there was no sign the small airport was in use. No indication of life, no other vehicles other than the planes. The runway, beyond the shack, was dark, its scant lighting visible only as wires and metal rails, but not functioning. There wasn’t even a wind sock.

  “Callahan?”

  “Nothing, boss,” she said.

  Ana contacted the two first-in scouts. “Brixton? Daniels?”

  “Still quiet.”

  “Dogs?”

  “At the ready,” came the reply from Franklin.

  “Go,” Ana instructed. She saw the four dogs streak across the clearing. The scent hounds stopped in front of the building, bayed once and dropped their noses to the ground. The outliers, the guards, flew into the hangar, but were back out again in seconds, heading for the building. Another few minutes and both of the big shepherds were in front of the building in the “all clear” sit-stay they’d been taught. The two scent hounds were in the hangar sounding off. Wherever the trail originated—probably one of the planes—it ended at the building and started at the hangar.

  “They won’t mess up the plane, will they?” Holden asked.

  “No opposable thumbs,” Callahan said, returning to the open window. Ana laughed and Holden looked blank.

  Gates pulled the vehicle into the clearing, stopping close beside the hut.

  “She’s being annoying.” Ana smirked. “The doors are most likely shut. There are monkeys and other curious wildlife here. You want the plane to stay clean, you shut the doors. The dogs can’t get in.”

  “Ah, got it,” Holden said, laughing. “Opposable thumbs. Good one, Callahan.”

  “Hostiles!” The shout rang in her earpiece, and everyone dropped, Holden included. Ana noted that his weapon was in his hand and it was steady.

  Nothing and no one moved. Callahan was on the roof with a scoped rifle within a second of the shout.

  “Get down,” Gates snapped. “He’s gone. Guarantee it, now t
hat he knows we spotted him. Daniels, clear sight?”

  “Clear sight, boss,” Daniels’s voice was crisp on the connection, but she heard the adrenaline excitement in his reply. “Scope showed heat signature and a weapon. About four hundred yards up and to the left, down the runway. He wasn’t there an hour ago, I’ll lay money on it. Ducked and covered, though, at the shout.”

  “We didn’t have the drop on him anyway,” Gates said. “Let’s get our work done here and move out. Full alert, people.”

  Ana followed Brixton and Franklin into the hangar. The four dogs, one Plott hound, one black and tan coonhound, and two German shepherd dogs, swarmed their handler, barking their mournful bark, and dancing between him and the plane. Holden was right behind her, kit in hand. Two minutes later, Callahan was there too.

  “Check it out,” Ana snapped the order.

  “Right, I’ll follow Holden,” Callahan replied. “He’s liftin’ prints, right?”

  “Right.”

  Holden dusted the rail on the plane’s stairs and lifted five or six prints before going inside. Ana followed. The Cessna was fitted out for cargo, with permanent bins bolted to the floor.

  “He was here,” she said, spotting a mark on the wall.

  Holden spun in place, his jaw dropping. “What do you mean? How can you tell?” He was looking everywhere, trying to see what she saw.

  Ana pointed. “His mark. A series of initials.” She could see them from where she stood, at the angle. She didn’t want to move lest she lose sight of them, so she directed Holden to them.

  Holden hurried over to the wall of the plane, crouched and stared. He looked at her, his face a study in disbelief. “SSDM? That supposed to mean something?”

  Callahan snickered. “Really? That’s the code?”

  Ana laughed too, but added, “It’s not what you think.”

  Holden looked at them, asked Callahan, “What did you think it was?”

  Callahan shot Ana a “can he be that naive?” kind of look. “Same shit, different millennium.”