Gideon
Page 19
He knew Andrés’s role in that.
Using the NVGs, he scanned the area for another heat signature. Just these three.
Vincente said something about a new whorehouse outside the Santa de Porres place. His voice, low and excited, covered the rustle of leaves as Gideon moved in. Geosue, standing a little apart from the others, glanced up. The sudden stiffening of his body indicated he’d made out Gideon half-hidden in the trees, close enough to touch. Opening his mouth to warn the others, he started to bring up the muzzle of his AK.
Clamping a hard hand across Geosue’s mouth, Gideon pulled him into the shrubbery, brought up the sharp knife, and efficiently slashed his throat. Jerking the limp and heavy body backward, he allowed it to drop as the other two abruptly stopped talking.
After a moment, Cesar whispered, “¿Geosue? ¿Adonde fuiste?“
He’s gone to hell, asshole. He remained still.
The two men weren’t complete idiots, and Gideon heard the snick of their weapons being drawn as they looked around nervously. Shots would bring reinforcements. An added complication he didn’t need.
“Hey Vincente, Cesar,” he called out, and stepped into the small clearing. “Geosue’s taking a leak,” he told them easily.
Like himself, the men wore bulky NVGs. They looked like space aliens.
“Sin,” Vincente said nervously. “What are you doing here? We’ve been looking for you. Mama—”
Gideon held the blood-edged, razor-sharp knife loosely at his side, watching the man’s body language for any sign of attack. “What’s happening in Santa de Porres?” he asked easily, not bothering to answer the other man’s question. Cesar looked to Vincente for guidance.
“We have Maza pinned there,” Vincente told him, not relaxing his stance. If anything, he looked more uncomfortable and ill at ease. He glanced over his shoulder briefly before looking back at Gideon. “He and his men are visiting the new burdel.”
Handy. If it was true and they were really at the whorehouse. It was a hell of a lot closer than the GPS coordinates Riva had been given for his nemesis’s location. Hell, he was already more than halfway there. He’d give Riva an early Christmas present, kill Maza for her, and catch up with her en route to the river. “Then what the fuck are you doing here, wasting time?” They might’ve been given the order to kill him, but he was still el jefe as far as they were concerned, and his tone and aggressive stance clearly reminded the two men of who and what he was.
Dangerous as hell.
Cesar took a step back, lowering the barrel of his weapon. Vincente ducked his head and shuffled his feet nervously. He didn’t drop his hand and lower his weapon completely, but the barrel dipped toward the ground instead of Gideon’s chest. “Mama said—”
To eliminate him; yeah, he knew. “She’s deranged,” Gideon stated flatly, keeping his voice low and his body coiled for immediate action. Because of the NVGs strapped to their heads, he couldn’t watch their eyes, but he read their body language. “You know this.”
They were afraid. His knife hand twitched. Scared men behaved irrationally. “Our enemy is Escobar Maza,” he reminded them, to distract them from the dilemma of killing him or obeying his leadership. “I presume we have a plan of attack? Who’s in charge? Andrés?”
“Sí,” Vincente mumbled reluctantly. The man was more brawn than brain, and he was confused as hell. Used to obeying Sin without question, he’d now been given orders to kill him, presumably by Mama, a woman he’d known and obeyed for a hell of a lot longer. Where Mama was concerned anything was possible. And it was also entirely possible that the order had come from Andrés, whose “friendship” was clearly as false as Mama’s claim to motherhood.
A faint brush of leaves to his right alerted him to another human presence. Like an animal scenting his mate, he knew Riva was near. Damn it to hell, he’d given her explicit instructions to go in the other direction. Stubborn. Focused.
Reminded him of someone else…
“Then we must join our men there,” he told the two men, covering the snap of a twig underfoot and ignoring the shooting pain in his temple. “Vámonos. Ahora.“ Once the men walked ahead, he’d figure out what to do with them. Kill them as he’d done with their buddy? Or put the fear of God into them and send them back to Mama?
That decision was taken out of his hands when Riva tripped over Geosue’s body. With a bitten-off curse, she came flying out of the vegetation as if catapulted. She didn’t scream in surprise, but she made a shitstorm of noise nevertheless. Arms extended to break her fall, she crashed into Cesar’s back.
Honest to God, they must’ve heard her back in the States as branches snapped and leaves rustled like castanets when Riva stumbled over what could only be a body hidden in the undergrowth. She’d seen it a nanosecond too late. Shit.
Gideon stood a few feet to the left of the guy she’d stumbled into. The other man started lifting his AK. It all happened fast.
Riva brought the butt of her SIG up, slamming it into the side of the guy’s head as he stumbled forward with her weight slamming into his back. He half turned and she hit him again. This time the blow shattered his cheekbone with a satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage and the hot spurt of blood. His weapon went flying.
He cried out in pain and outrage and turned fully to confront her, blood pouring from his nose. Using their forward momentum, she knocked him to the ground, then slapped her palm across his mouth as he started to scream.
His surprise was to her advantage as she scrabbled on top of him, drawing the KA-BAR from the sheath on her leg as he bucked and heaved to get her weight off his chest. With a quick swipe of the sharp blade, she silenced his muffled shouts for help. He went limp beneath her. Riva rose fluidly in time to see Gideon picking up both dropped AK-47s from the shrubbery. At his feet, the body of the third man lay sprawled on his back, arms and legs out-flung.
He shoved up his NVGs. “I told you to head toward the river,” he snapped, his voice low and pissed as he handed her one of the guns.
Holding it loosely in one hand, Riva picked up the SIG and tucked it into the small of her back. “I got lost,” she told him dryly. There was no point reminding him that he wasn’t the boss of her, and that she had no intention of going in the opposite direction to Maza.
Bending, she wiped the blade of her knife on the dead guy’s shirt, then shoved it back into the leg holster. “I thought you might need help.”
“I didn’t until you crashed the party.”
Riva shoved her NVGs on top of her head. “Then you shouldn’t have left your trash for me to fall over. Do you think these guys brought friends to their party?”
“Probably not. But let’s not wait to find out. Fortunately, no one got off a shot. Come on.”
Riva didn’t move. “I’m not going to Santa de Porres. Not until after I find and kill Maza.” She had suddenly remembered, after he left, that Maza was supposed to be responsible for Gideon’s lack of memory. Damn. He couldn’t come with her after all, not and risk Escobar Maza recognizing him, which would blow her mission. “As much as I’d like the company, you can’t come with me. Maza knows you—”
“Or not. That might very well be another bullshit story told to me by Angélica to explain the bump on my head and the lacerations. Who knows how she came to get her hands on me? I suspect Maza had nothing to do with it. But rest assured, I will find out.”
“Maybe. But what if it’s not?”
“I’ll risk it.” He didn’t sigh with exasperation, but Riva sensed him holding in his annoyance. Too damn bad. “I’m not letting you anywhere near that lunatic alone.”
“That’s heroic, but incredibly damned stupid,” Riva informed him tartly. “I can’t take the chance that he takes one look and recognizes you. If he does, my cover will be blown, the whole mission compromised.” Without the NVGs on she couldn’t see his face. She could barely make out the height and width of him, a denser black against the mottled blackness of the vegetation.
“Then you tell him you captured me and brought me to him as a fucking gift. Tell him whatever the hell you like. We’re not separating until you hook up with your people.”
Holy crap he was stubborn. “I’m trained for this.”
“Christ, you’re stubborn,” he said with irritation, repeating exactly what she’d just thought. “You going in alone is not an option, Riva. If Maza and I have met, I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”
Gideon was the first male to insist on taking care of her. Her fellow operatives always had her back, but this was…different. Short-lived, sure. But what relationship wasn’t?
A soft, warm emotion unfurled cautiously inside her. It didn’t mean anything to him, and it wasn’t personal, Riva knew that. Machismo was his middle name, and to him women needed protection. He couldn’t know that years of abuse, then many years on her own coming to terms with that abuse, had honed her to a fine, self-sufficient point.
T-FLAC training and experience had added another several layers of hard-ass to her so that she’d reached this stage in her life where she didn’t need anyone. Still, the fact that he’d thought to offer his help, his support, warmed her to the core.
She tried one more argument, even while she knew it was futile. “I can’t allow you to compromise my mission.”
“I know this jungle, and how to cut straight through it to get where you need to go. You don’t.”
Riva drew her NVGs back over her eyes, as Gideon did the same. “Lead on, MacDuff.”
The dark jungle paid attention as they moved through it. Animals generally gave humans a wide berth, but a few curious monkeys trailed them as they walked, swinging from branch to branch overhead.
Riva had been afraid that the kerfuffle with Gideon’s men might alert anyone close by, but so far so good. No one was following them, and if they were, they were damn good, because she didn’t hear anything to alarm her, and neither did the other jungle denizens.
Without warning, the soft, cool mist suddenly turned into a torrential downpour. Gideon forged ahead, not missing a step as hard drops bounced off his bare head and shoulders.
“Hold this.” Handing him her backpack, she took a thin jacket from the bag. After shrugging it on, she crammed a ball cap onto her already saturated hair. Before taking back the pack, she readjusted the NVGs. Slipping her arms into the straps, Riva readjusted the weight on her back. “What’s our ETA?”
“It’s not that far as the crow flies, but we have a river, a large chunk of mountain, and dense jungle between here and there. Barring complications, as I said, two days. How do you want to play this?” Gideon asked quietly, dropping back to walk beside her.
“I’m going in as Graciela. Let’s assume he doesn’t recognize you, that your people aren’t there partaking of the party favors, and that we make it there in one piece. You’ll go in as my bodyguard. That’ll keep us together for the duration.”
“Hell, I’m willing to risk anything at this point.”
“Okay, tails it is. Bodyguard.”
“What was heads?”
“My…brother.” She’d been about to say “sex slave,” but decided that was too inflammatory, and far too close to what she’d like the truth to be.
He made a rude sound. “Brother?”
Riva shrugged. Rain pounded the top of her ball cap, spraying off the visor. It beaded on the NVGs, making it impossible to see where she was going. Gideon must have radar, because he didn’t hesitate as they moved through the lush, drenched foliage.
Everything but her feet in her waterproof combat boots was soaking wet. Rain sluiced down between her collar and neck, soaked into her T-shirt, wicked by her braid. Not that it was imminent, but she almost felt the heat and smelled the sweet steam of a scalding hot shower. More wishful thinking than psychic ability. Cold water gathered beneath the under-rim of the NVGs, trembled on her cheekbones for a few seconds, then spilled over her cheeks to wash her face.
“Okay?” Gideon leaned in to speak in a normal volume. Or rather she figured that was what he asked, since the thrashing of vegetation, and the spatter and spray of the rain whipping the leaves around them lashed away his words.
Riva gave him a thumbs-up. It was just rain, she wouldn’t melt. Catching the edge of his smile, she smiled back as he continued walking. No use complaining about being cold and wet. He was just as wet. Eventually they’d reach civilization. Of course, that didn’t mean a respite from the weather or their wet clothing. But a girl could dream.
She’d had it worse. Worse ops. Worse terrain. Worse weather. Worse companions.
As it was impossible to converse, each kept to their own thoughts. Riva’s became more and more erotic, and while she was pretty sure she was just using her imagination and it wasn’t a vision, the images kept her toasty warm and ridiculously aroused, under the circumstances. Rain ran down her neck, wet fabric clung to her skin from her throat to her ankles, and none of it mitigated the heat generated by her thoughts. She shook her head at the absurdity of the situation, grateful that Gideon couldn’t see the images playing in her mind.
Placing one foot firmly in front of the next, she kept her wits about her as best she could and focused on what was ahead, maintaining clear peripheral vision and her weapons quick to hand.
They walked for another thirty minutes. Riva tried to switch from conjuring images of hot, wild, monkey sex to fantasizing about being chin deep in hot bathwater, sipping a cup of strong coffee. Her stomach rumbled as she imagined the spicy smell of hot chili cooking when, without warning, Gideon barred her way with a hard arm across her chest. Riva immediately stopped dead in her tracks, ears and eyes alert.
Adrenaline raced through her veins as she strained to hear any sounds not associated with the deluge. Nothing but pounding rain and the timpani of her own heartbeat, loud in her ears.
Taking her by the shoulders, Gideon turned her to face him, then unhooked his machete and AK from his own shoulder, hanging them on a nearby branch before reaching for hers.
Riva’s fingers tightened around the stock of her weapon. What the hell? He gave a sharp tug, dislodging her wet fingers.
Eyes narrowed, she tried to look around his bulk to see if someone stood behind him with a weapon trained on his back. As far as she could tell, they were still alone. Jungle. Rain. Miles and miles of trees bowed with moisture.
Tilting her face up to ask him what the hell, Riva sucked in a wet breath as he reached over to lift her NVGs, shoving them to the top of her head. Her dislodged ball cap plopped soundlessly to the muddy ground near her boot. Rain pounded her bare head as he raised his own much bulkier glasses so they pointed sightlessly up at the black sky.
Blinking up at him, Riva frowned. “Wha—”
Large hands cupped the balls of her shoulders, lifting her to her toes as he lowered his head to plunder her mouth. The shocking heat of his mouth crushing hers spiked her adrenaline in waves of intense pleasure. She was pretty sure steam rose wherever they touched.
Avid lips. Soft breasts to hard chest. His muscular thighs cradled her hips, and the brace of his calf stabilized her wobbly legs. She shivered at the burning caress of his mouth, followed by the light pressure of his teeth scoring her lower lip.
They were going to be ambushed and killed if they kept this up. She had to push him away. Be the trained operative that she was. And she would be. In a minute.
Long strands of his hair brushed her cheek, and she inhaled the unique fragrance of him as he slid his hot palm around the back of her icy neck, warming it in seconds. His slick tongue danced across her teeth, then tangled with hers in an erotic dance. His fingers tightened, his hand so large it almost circled her throat. Riva had a moment when she remembered just how strong he was. It would be nothing to him to snap her neck in the middle of curling her toes with the passion of his kiss.
Right then she didn’t give a damn, as long as he didn’t stop.
Holy crap, the man was potent.
Twisting her fingers tightl
y into his saturated T-shirt, she felt the radiated heat of his body through the wet fabric. She inhaled a brief, shuddering breath as his lips skimmed hers before his tongue reclaimed the cavern of her mouth.
She wanted him inside her. Despite the danger, regardless of the rain and lack of a horizontal surface. Riva wanted. Him. Inside. Her. She craved the driving force of his strokes, the fullness of his penis deep inside her, the hard slap of his hips against hers…
She whimpered when he bit her lower lip, then sucked it into his mouth, his tongue tender as he stroked the small wound. She wasn’t aware he’d let go of her shoulders, until he skimmed his warm hands down her ribcage. One hand continued over her hip and around to grip the globe of her ass, pulling her up and in, pressing her firmly against the steely jut of his penis.
“This is insane.”
He grunted, “Uh-huh,” as his other hand skimmed between them to close over her breast. Goose bumps bloomed on her skin as he brushed his thumb over the puckered peak of her nipple. Riva arched her back, pressing his hand hard between their bodies. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
The heat of his breath caressed her chin as he moved his prickly face down her throat. She arched her neck to give him access. To her jugular…
Nerve endings. Lots of them.
The rasp of his stubble on the sensitive spot between her shoulder and neck made Riva shiver. Tightening her fingers against his pecs, she shuddered and closed her eyes. He kissed and licked up her throat, until the heat and wetness of his teeth and tongue were everything, and her body shivered and shook, not with cold, but with passion.
His mouth skimmed up to her ear where he traced the swirls with the tip of his tongue before murmuring, “Unfasten your pants.”
“You’re insa—” Heat and light exploded through her as he bit her lobe.
“Do it, Riva. Now.”
Dragging her hand down between their bodies, she paused to wrap her fingers around the hard spar of his penis tenting his cotton pants.