She cautioned herself not to borrow trouble. She would face those problems if and when they occurred. What she needed now was a good night's sleep so she would be rested and ready for her journey to rescue Frankie.
* * *
Hawk stumbled into the bedroom suite. He'd had a little too much wine. But celebrating with Lazaro had given him what he needed. The general's promise of a jeep, loaded with provisions, and a pass, signed by the general himself, that gave him and Rorie free access to the areas of San Miguel that were now under Lazaro's rule.
That pass would get them out of La Vega and past several of the nearby villages, but once they were halfway up La Montana Grande, they would be out of Lazaro's jurisdiction. They would have to go through a no-man's-land, where neither King Julio nor General Mateo ruled. Parts of the mountain were patrolled by Emilio Santos and his band of renegades and the other part was the domain of nature. Only the highest crest of the mountain was sacred and civilized—the few acres held in trust by the holy sisters.
Hawk closed the door behind him, locked it and crept silently over to the bed. A dozen candles glowing around the room, burned down a third of the way, illuminated the elegant suite. When he glanced at Rorie, asleep in the bed, his breath caught in his throat. Her yellow hair was spread out over the ivory satin pillow like strands of pure gold. She had kicked back the heavy quilted coverlet, leaving only the ivory satin sheet covering her to her waist. The gown she wore was as thin as tissue paper. Her large, firm breasts were all but bare, their pink tips beckoning his fingers and mouth.
"Damn!" he mumbled.
Rorie sighed deeply and rolled over, turning her back to him. His body came to full alert, hardening and throbbing.
How the hell was he going to get through this night without taking her, when she was lying there all soft and scented and waiting? But she's not waiting for you, you stupid fool! If you needed a woman so damn bad, why didn't you have Consuela before you came up here to Rorie's bed?
Good question, he told himself. Damn good question.
Hawk went into the bathroom, stripped off his clothes and stepped into the two-person marble shower. In the past, whenever he had wanted a woman, whenever he'd needed to have sex, he'd been satisfied with almost any willing female. Consuela had been as willing tonight as she had been during their brief affair three years ago. She was his kind of woman—slender, sexy, pretty and very experienced.
But he didn't want Consuela. He wanted Rorie Dean.
When he'd watched the way Mateo Lazaro looked at her, the way he'd held her pressed intimately against his body when they danced, the way Rorie had smiled at him, Hawk had wanted to rip the general's heart out with his bare hands. He had never felt possessive about a woman. Women came and went in his life, all of them temporary conveniences. He had never loved anyone. And no one had ever loved him.
He had wanted. He had needed. He had desired. And he had taken. But he had never loved.
Scrubbing the grime and sweat from his body, Hawk reminded himself of all the reasons he couldn't have Rorie Dean. She was a virgin. She would expect love and commitment. Becoming sexually involved with an emotional woman could jeopardize the mission. If he let himself care about Rorie, he wouldn't be able to stay objective and do his best job. And if she ever found out about his involvement in her brother's and sister-in-law's deaths, she would hate him. Even though he didn't care about her, he didn't want her to hate him.
Who are you kidding? You already care about her.
Well, get over it, he told himself. She's just a woman like any other woman. Two arms. Two legs. A pretty face. Nice breasts. And a—
Don't go there! Don't think about making love to her all night long.
Hawk dried off and walked into the bedroom. Totally naked, his long, damp hair hanging loosely down his back, he stood in the center of the room and glanced back and forth from the bed to the chaise longue. He was too big a man to sleep comfortably on the chaise. On the other hand, the bed was large enough to easily accommodate both Rorie and he.
He eased back the sheet and slipped into the bed beside her. He felt the heat emanating from her body and smelled the sweet, tempting fragrance of the scented soap and shampoo she had used.
Hesitantly, he reached out and touched her hair, then leaned over and buried his nose in the soft, damp mass. His sex grew harder and heavier, throbbing with need. He kissed her shoulder. Rorie stirred, turning toward him, slowly opening her eyes.
"Hawk! What are you doing in my bed?"
"Our bed. Mateo thinks we're lovers. Otherwise, you'd be spending the night in his bed." Hawk rose up and over her, bracing himself on one elbow as he aligned the front of his body along the side of hers. When she tried to get up, he gave her a gentle shove and covered her waist with his heavy arm, pinning her to the bed.
"Well, we aren't lovers, despite what you led General Lazaro to believe."
"General Lazaro?" Hawk questioned her. "Why so formal? Downstairs you were calling him Mateo, weren't you?"
"Downstairs, I was playing the game, remember? The game you said that I had to play if I wanted to get out of La Vega and rescue Frankie."
"And you played the game very well. Almost too well." Hawk tightened his hold on her waist. "But together we accomplished our goal. Tomorrow morning you and I can leave on our search for the prince in a jeep that's a gift from Lazaro, along with provisions for several weeks. And a pass that allows us free rein in any part of San Miguel that the general controls."
"Oh, Hawk, that's wonderful."
Without thinking about what she was doing, Rorie turned to Hawk enthusiastically, a smile of genuine warmth and appreciation on her face. Too late she realized that she had rolled over against his naked body and straight into his arms.
"Bella," Hawk whispered. "Muy bella."
"Don't, Hawk. Please, don't."
Sandwiching her arms between their bodies, she shoved against his chest. He grabbed her wrists and flung her arms up, flattening them on either side of her head. She struggled against his superior strength. When he lowered his mouth to hers, she thrashed her head from side to side. But he captured her mouth with fierce pressure, taking her lips, forcing them apart. He rose up and over her. Only the satin sheet and her gown separated their lower bodies as he ground his sex against her.
Rorie wanted Hawk. Wanted him desperately. But not like this. Not with such savagery. Not when he was intent on forcing her.
She could so easily give herself to him. Her body longed for his. Her heart cried out for his love. But Gabriel Hawk did not love her. He wanted her. For tonight. Perhaps for the duration of their mission. But not forever.
She fought a battle with herself, her own desire raging against her. As Hawk deepened and softened the kiss, she whimpered her surrender to the moment of physical gratification. Straddling her hips, he eased his lips from hers and licked a moist trail down her neck and across her collarbone. He opened his mouth and covered her nipple, suckling her through the sheer cotton.
Her body tightened and released, moistening in readiness, as ripples of pleasure spiraled from her breasts to her core.
Hawk jerked the gown from her shoulders and down to her waist, exposing her large, round breasts. He cupped them in his hands, lifting them, weighing them. Rorie shuddered from head to toe.
"Tell me to stop, now." He scraped his palms across both nipples. She gasped. "Tell me that you don't want me."
"I—I can't," she said breathlessly. "Oh, Gabriel, I can't."
Gabriel. She'd called him Gabriel. Dammit! He hadn't even made love to her yet and already she was getting personal. If he'd guessed right about her, by the time he entered her body, she would be crying out how much she loved him.
Cold fingers of fear tap-danced up his spine. Was he enough of a bastard to take this woman's virginity, allow her to love him and then, when this mission was over, walk away and leave her?
Hawk nuzzled his nose between her breasts, wanting her as he'd never wanted anyth
ing in his life. Then he dismounted her body and fell flat on his back beside her.
She laid her hand on his chest. "Gabriel?"
"Don't touch me, Rorie." He flung her hand off his body. "Turn over and go to sleep. And don't touch me again. If you touch me, so help me God, I'll take you."
Without saying a word, Rorie turned over and drew up into a ball. Hawk lay still—naked and brutally, painfully aroused.
When he heard Rorie's muffled sobs, he turned over and covered his head with a pillow. Heaven help him, this woman was going to be the death of him!
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
Murdock double-checked the supplies in the back of the jeep, then pulled the tarpaulin over the provisions and secured the strap.
"You've got a full tank of gas and about twenty extra gallons in the back with the other supplies. That should be enough." Murdock glanced around, checking to see if someone might be listening to their conversation. "If anything goes wrong, you know the villages where I have contacts."
"When you see Lazaro, thank him again for everything he's done to help us." Hawk patted his shirt pocket. "Especially the pass giving us freedom to travel throughout San Miguel."
"Yeah, I'll be sure to thank him," Murdock said. "I don't expect to see Mateo before noon. He didn't leave the banquet hall until after two this morning. And Dulcina has a way of tiring a man out."
Murdock laughed, but Hawk had to force a smile. He was worn-out this morning, but not from a night of passion. With Rorie lying so close, and yet so far out of reach, he hadn't been able to go to sleep until nearly dawn.
Hawk glanced at Rorie, who sat in the jeep, eager to begin their journey. She looked away, avoiding eye contact with him.
Murdock pulled out a thick, folded paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to Hawk. "Here's a map that might come in handy. I'm sure y'all are going to head straight to Culebra, since it's the closest town to La Vega."
"Isn't Culebra up the seacoast?" Rorie asked. "Why would we—"
"Y'all have enough rations to last a couple of weeks," Murdock interrupted Rorie mid-sentence. "If you haven't found the kid by then, get in touch with me."
Rorie didn't complain about Murdock's rudeness or make any comments about why her question had gone unanswered. Hawk exchanged glances with her. They spoke without words—she silently saying that she understood someone might be listening to their conversation; and he replying, Good girl, you're learning.
"We'll be seeing you." Hawk stepped up into the jeep, then halted and turned back toward Murdock. "Say goodbye to Consuela for me."
Clasping Hawk's shoulder, Murdock grinned. "Don't worry about the major. I'll take good care of her." He glanced meaningfully at Rorie, then lowered his head and whispered, "You've got your hands full, taking care of that one."
Murdock slapped Hawk on the back. Hawk got in the jeep, started the engine and let it idle for a couple of minutes. He looked over at Rorie.
"Better put on your hat and sunglasses," he told her. "They'll give that lily-white skin of yours some protection, as well as disguise your blond hair and blue eyes."
Rorie did as he requested. "Anything else?" she asked.
"I'll let you know." Hawk shifted gears and headed the jeep toward the palace gates.
Rorie sat back in the seat, folded her hands in her lap and looked straight ahead. Hawk waved and spoke to the guards as he drove through the open gates.
For the most part, the streets were deserted, except for soldiers posted at intervals throughout the city. Since Hawk was wearing battle fatigues—borrowed from the general himself—and driving a jeep flying the rebel flag, none of the sentries stopped them until they reached the edge of La Vega.
Hawk whipped out the pass signed by Lazaro. He spoke rapidly in Spanish to the soldiers manning the central highway that branched into four roadways leading out of the city.
"What is your destination, Señor Hawk?" the guard asked.
"We're on our way to Culebra," Hawk said.
The young soldier pointed the direction. "This road will take you all the way into Culebra."
"Muchas gracias."
When they had traveled a half mile out of La Vega, Hawk glanced at Rorie. "Now, you can ask."
"Ask what?"
"Ask me why we're headed up the coast to Culebra instead of taking the road toward the mountains and on to Utuado." Hawk returned his attention to the long winding road, which ran parallel to the shoreline. "Nobody can overhear our conversation out here."
"I'm sorry that I didn't realize sooner why you and Murdock weren't being specific about anything in your conversation. I'm not accustomed to having people spy on me."
"So, do you still want to know why we're taking this route?"
"I think I've figured it out on my own." Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked her head to one side and smiled at him with great self-satisfaction. "If General Lazaro had someone spying on us in La Vega, then it's possible that he might have someone following us, to check up on which direction we went."
"Smart girl. Going to Culebra first and then backtracking to Utuado will take up most of the day, especially since I intend to stop in Culebra for lunch and to make a few inquiries. By then, I should know whether it's safe for us to double back. If it is, we'll take the back roads. They're not paved and we'll have to cut through some pretty rough terrain. But if we're lucky, we won't run into any soldiers—the king's, the general's or Santos's."
"What about running into wild animals?" Rorie asked jokingly, knowing that San Miguel had no true wild animals, unless you counted a horde of exotic birds, countless insects and several species of snakes, including anacondas.
"Are you referring to the jaguars?" Hawk asked.
"Jaguars? There are no jaguars on any of the islands, unless they're in zoos."
"I take it you haven't heard the story about King Julio's grandfather."
Turning in her seat, she stared at him through the dark lenses of her sunglasses. "Is this a true story or one you're making up to pass the time and keep my mind off what might lie ahead of us?"
"True story. I promise."
She slipped her sunglasses down her nose, peered over the top rims and looked at him skeptically.
Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, he lifted his other hand and drew an invisible X across his chest with his finger. "Cross my heart. It's a true story. I've seen a jaguar in the mountains."
"So, tell me the story."
"I'm not sure that I want to tell you, now." He sighed forlornly, then quickly shifted his eyes to catch a glimpse of her smile. "If you ask me nicely and say please, I might tell you."
They were playing games again, she thought. Hawk was very good at games. She wasn't. But she was learning.
"Please, Hawk, tell me the story."
"If you insist. Well, it seems that about a hundred years ago, King Rodolfo had a pair of black jaguar cubs brought over from South America as a gift for his sons. The jaguars were considered pets. But one of the princes had a rather mean streak, so he enjoyed tormenting his pets."
"Oh, don't tell me!" Rorie abhorred animal cruelty. The very thought of anyone deliberately harming an animal made her sick.
"Just stay with me on this story," Hawk said, and when she nodded agreement, he continued. "One day the male jaguar, who had matured into quite a big fellow, decided he was going to fight back. When the cat nearly mauled the wicked young prince to death, the king ordered both jaguars destroyed."
"But they weren't destroyed?"
"The other young prince, who was unfortunately not the heir to the throne, bribed the soldiers who were supposed to kill the jaguars. Instead of shooting the cats, they took them into the mountains and set them free."
"What a marvelous story," Rorie said. "Too bad the kind and tenderhearted young prince didn't become king."
"Well, because of the young prince's tenderheartedness, there are jaguars roaming the mountain forests today."
Hawk grinned at Rorie when she shook her head in disbelief. "Hey, I can't guarantee the complete truth of the story, but I can promise you that there are jaguars in this country. I saw one while I was on assignment here three years ago."
"Now, that's a story I'd be interested in hearing," Rorie said. "I'd like to hear about your assignment in San Miguel."
"The assignment was top secret, so the story is classified." Hawk gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled strength. Lighten up, he told himself. Don't act like you're hiding something or she'll get suspicious. The last thing he wanted was for Rorie Dean ever to know all the gory details of his last assignment for the United States government. "Unless you've got a security clearance, I'm afraid that's one story I can't tell you."
Rorie thought he was trying too hard to make light of the assignment, but she suspected the events were so dreadful that he preferred not to discuss them with anyone.
"No security clearance, I'm afraid." She tried to make her tone as light as his, then deliberately changed the subject. "So, how long does it take to get to Culebra?"
"Less than an hour. The town should be fairly normal—that is, fairly normal for a place under military rule."
"There aren't any vehicles behind us, as far as I can see. She glanced back over her shoulder. "If anyone is following us, they're doing it at a more-than-discreet distance. Will we have to waste so much time in Culebra, if we aren't being watched?"
"You let me worry about detecting the spies and making decisions about if and when it's safe for us to leave Culebra."
"Oh, all right. Excuse me for trying to help." Crossing her arms over her chest, she slumped down in her seat and stuck out her lips in a pout. She waited for Hawk to say something, to beg her pardon for being so controlling, but when he said nothing, she tried to explain her frustration. "It's just that I hate wasting so much time running around in circles. I want to go to the mission and get Frankie as soon as possible. I want us on a ship headed back to the United States."
GABRIEL HAWK'S LADY Page 13