Captive of Fate

by Lindsay McKenna

  “But it never happened, thank God,” she whispered fervently.

  He shrugged. “With time I’ve worked out most of the grief. I stayed over there too long. My commander should have rotated me. But during that period we were pulling out, and it was every man for himself.”

  “Did you eventually get help?”

  “No. I just lived through it.” He gave a sad smile. “Just like thousands of other men, Alanna. I was no different from them. And my problems were small compared to some of theirs.”

  She bit down on her lip. “Is—is that why Tim Thornton got killed?”

  He caressed her neck, taking one braid and bringing it across her shoulder. “Tim was transferred into my company just before we pulled out,” he acknowledged.

  Her heart began beating faster as his fingers sent small tingling shivers up and down the slender column of her neck. He leaned down, his breath moist against her cheek.

  “Sometime, Babe, if things go as I want them to, I may tell you what actually happened to Tim. I promised never to divulge the truth to anyone.”

  She pulled away, yet remained within the circle of his arms. “The truth?” she echoed, puzzled. “I thought the truth was already known from the way the senator always talked.”

  “Not all of it,” he admitted reluctantly.

  “Who will the truth serve, then?” she wanted to know.

  “No one, in the end.”

  She shook her head. “My God, I would have spilled it a long time ago if I were you!” she exclaimed.

  Matt smiled patiently. “At whose expense? It would mean Senate hearings and public embarrassment for several prominent people. Hell, if it was just Thornton, I wouldn’t care. But it involves good military officers who would be hung out to dry if the truth were known. I’ve seen it happen too many other times. Washington needs a scapegoat when there’s a public embarrassment, so they chop heads in the military. I’ve seen brilliant officers who were outstanding leaders get canned. I’d rather keep my mouth shut over the incident and take the heat from Thornton occasionally than let this mess ruin good men’s careers.” He gazed down at her. “Does that make sense to you, my dove who doesn’t understand war?”

  She shivered as he caressed her cheek with his roughened fingers. “I understand the principle, Matt.” A soft smile curved her lips. “And you know something else?”

  He leaned down, his mouth brushing hers with a tentative, feathery kiss. “What?”

  His maleness was overpowering, and she fought to maintain the thread of thought. “I—I think you’re a gallant knight on a white horse who believes in justice and fairness after all. Despite your contemptuous words, Matt, you’re a knight. Perhaps your armor is tarnished and badly dented, but you continue to be gallant and honorable, even in dishonorable circumstances.”

  He laughed softly, nuzzling her ear with delicious slowness. “Like I said, Babe, we’re all Don Quixotes tilting at windmills.”

  Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she met his tender gaze. “By standing for what you believe in,” she whispered, “you are a giant among men.”

  “I’ll settle for just being special in your eyes,” he returned huskily.

  His mouth descended upon her parted lips, the salty wetness of her tears giving a bittersweet taste to the kiss. She sighed rapturously, leaning fully against his hard male body, delighting in the feel of his warmth and strength. In her mind and her heart, she welcomed this man who made no excuses for his weaknesses or his strength. He was vitally human in a heady, exciting way, and she treasured each moment spent with him.

  His mouth fit perfectly against her lips, parting them with gentle, exploratory pressure. A moan of pleasure slipped from her throat as he tasted her mouth thoroughly, his tongue igniting a burning heat in the center of her trembling body. Entwining his fingers through her thick hair, he imprisoned her face, drawing her more deeply into the fiery kiss.

  An uncontrollable heat swept through her, and she returned the ardor of his kiss. A groan vibrated through his body, and he pinned her tightly against him, his hand sweeping down her spine to capture her hips and mold them against his own. Her heart pounded wildly; her breath was stolen from her. Slowly, ever so slowly, he released her. Alanna met his hooded, intense eyes, shivering with need for more of his knowing touch. Her lips parted, wet and throbbing from the force of his mouth as it had plundered hers. No man had ever evoked such violent desires in her.

  He leaned forward, kissing her forehead, cheeks, and eyes. “I want you,” he breathed thickly. “God how I need you, Alanna. You affect me like no other woman I’ve ever known….”

  Her mind rebelled for an instant only. Then her instincts and emotions overruled logic, and she willingly melted back into his awaiting arms. “Matt,” she whispered, slipping her arms around his neck, “Hold me, just hold me….”

  The night was shattered by the throaty scream of a jaguar. Alanna gasped, clinging to Matt. The cry of the jungle cat was much closer this time. She felt him tense, his arm moving protectively around her body as he looked out into the night. Alanna heard the Costa Ricans stirring, stumbling out of their tents, mumbling in Spanish. Again the jaguar screamed. It sent a shiver of pure fear down her spine, and she cringed against Matt’s shoulder.

  “He’s close,” he muttered. “Get over by the fire and start throwing more wood on it,” he ordered quietly. Matt released her, giving her a gentle shove in that direction. “Go on,” he urged, moving to the tent and drawing out his .45.

  Fearfully, Alanna did as she was ordered, trying to penetrate the darkness for a sign of the cat. The Costa Rican policemen followed her example, quickly scrambling for other pieces of wood. She stood tensely, watching Matt. He walked outside the circle of protection, and she held her breath. An excited jumble of Spanish fell against her ears, but her attention was riveted upon Matt. He seemed to become a cat himself as he melted into the shadows, his feet landing on the earth without a sound. She lost sight of him, her heart beating painfully as she waited an eternity until he came back.

  His features were black with anger when he returned. He had something in his hand and threw it down at Juan’s feet. “Ask him what the hell he’s doing throwing C-ration cans out there. Doesn’t he know the cat will be drawn by the smell of meat? He should have buried the garbage.”

  Alanna translated haltingly, and Juan’s face turned a deep plum color. Refusing to meet Matt’s demanding glare, the policeman shrugged.

  “Tell him we’re going to have to stand watch tonight. No one’s going to get much sleep because of this. Someone will have to stay awake and keep the fire high. I tried to find the rest of the garbage they threw away after their meal, but it’s useless.”

  Alanna slept off and on throughout the rest of the night. Matt had taken the first watch, much to her relief—he was the only one she trusted to be able to cope with the threat of the jaguar. When he slid in beside her much later, she awoke groggily.

  “Matt?” she mumbled.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured. “You’re shivering.”

  Sleepily, she turned on her back, barely awake. “I’m cold.”

  He smiled patiently, putting the pistol back into the holster and placing it nearby. “I can see that. Come here, sleepyhead.” He pulled her into his arms, tucking the blanket around her shoulders. Then he lay down, bringing her against him. “Better?” he inquired softly, touching her hair.

  Alanna nodded, slipping back into sleep, feeling warm and protected within his arms.

  Chapter Eight

  Alanna sighed languorously, unconsciously snuggling more deeply into Matt’s arms. The vague, comforting feeling of someone stroking her unbraided hair brought her half awake. The coarse weave of Matt’s shirt, the solid beat of his heart reassured her as she remembered the screaming jaguar of the night before. That thought made her stiffen, and she immediately felt his arms tighten in response.

  “Go back to sleep,” he coaxed huskily against her ear.


  The first rays of light trickled through the flaps of the tent as she opened her eyes. She was lying in his arms, her body pressed against him. She felt a sense of peace, a rightness in being there that she could not explain. She rubbed her eyes.

  “I can’t sleep,” she whispered, resting her hand against his chest. “The jaguar…”

  “He’s gone. Cats only prowl at night. Probably home with his missus up in some tree right now.” There was a hint of humor in his low voice.

  She knew she should move, but Alanna craved his closeness. He was unlike any other man she had known. The men she had dated after leaving Paul had had one thing in mind: getting her into bed at any cost. She had grown tired of their pawing and sloppy, hurried kisses. She thought of Matt’s kisses, of his tender hands, and she closed her eyes, happy simply to share this quiet time near him.

  “You aren’t like the rest,” she said, her voice barely audible.

  His fingers trailed down the velvet slope of her cheek.

  “Rest of what?” he teased.

  “Then men I’ve dated.”

  “In what way?”

  She shrugged, embarrassed over her slip. “Don’t mind me, I’m just waking up.”

  “I love it when you wake up. Your voice is throaty…very sexy,” he murmured. He gently dislodged her head from his shoulder and raised himself up on one elbow. There was a tender flame of warmth lingering in his eyes as he studied her. “You’re beautiful when you sleep. Do you know that?”

  Alanna’s lips parted in response. “Do you always say the right thing?” she accused.

  He smiled, reaching out and smoothing a rebellious strand of hair away from her forehead. “I don’t know. Do I?”

  She smiled with him. “Either you’re awfully sly, or you’re being honest.”

  Matt ran his thumb across the smoothness of her forehead as he traced the varying planes of her face. “You have a funny way of affecting me, Alanna McIntire. Maybe it’s your Hungarian heritage. Or your stubbornness. Do you realize how close I came to turning you over my knee last night?”

  “Matt, I didn’t come out here to make you worry. I want to clear your name and—”

  His fingers descended upon her lips. “Sshh,” he whispered. “I don’t want to argue with you first thing in the morning.” A smile tugged at the corner of his generous mouth. “You know, this is getting to be a pleasant habit. Sleeping with you, that is.”

  She colored prettily. “Believe me, I don’t make a habit of sleeping around,” she said defensively, starting to rise.

  “Wait.” Matt placed his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t look at me like a frightened rabbit.”

  “I’m not frightened!” she gulped.

  “Yes, you are,” he taunted softly. Leaning over, he nuzzled her ear.

  Little shivers raced up and down her neck as he nibbled at her earlobe. Breathlessly, she closed her eyes, unable to ask him to stop. Not wanting him to stop. Never had any man had the capacity to arouse her so fully with the mere touch of his mouth. Paul’s attempts at lovemaking seemed cold and remote compared to Matt’s masterful caresses.

  Alanna sighed as she felt his hand cupping her chin, drawing her face upward. His mouth pressed gently against her lips in a breath-stealing kiss. Fire surged upward through her as she strained to meet his body. He tore down every barrier that she had erected against his advances. There was something clean and good in his touch, and she yearned to be a willing partner. Ever so reluctantly, he disengaged himself from her.

  “You could drive a man crazy,” he said thickly. “I want you, Alanna, but not here and not now.”

  He must have seen the confusion in her widened eyes. He bent down, capturing her lips in a light kiss. “I’ll be damned if we’re going to be interrupted by a jaguar or our friendly policemen across the way,” he explained, mirth in his expression.

  She should have felt embarrassed, but she didn’t. Not in his arms. She managed a grimace.

  “Some of the men I’ve dated would have tried it anyway,” she confessed.

  “Are you disappointed?”

  Surprise showed in her eyes. “No…. I’ve never met a man like you, Matt. You keep me off guard. Your life-style, the way you think is so different.”

  He nodded. “It’s not wrong to want to love you, Alanna. And when I do love you, it will be the right way, at the right time.”

  “That’s what I mean,” she murmured. “You’re willing to wait. I’ve never met a man who could wait.”

  He laughed softly, kissing her cheek and brow. “Lady, you have no idea how difficult it is. Especially with someone like you.”

  She slowly sat up, crossing her legs beneath her, taming her unruly long hair with one hand. A new sense of elation swirled around her and she reveled in his closeness. Almost immediately, that fragile, budding feeling withered as she remembered the investigation. She had to try to stay uninvolved. At least until he had been vindicated! The “what ifs” were too threatening to contemplate. What if he were indicted? What would that do to her, their relationship? Alanna stole a look at him as he knelt over the blankets, rolling them up. What about her job? Pursing her lips, she tried to quell the smoldering desire Matt had brought to life within her dormant body. How could she have fallen so helplessly in love with a man whom her boss was out to destroy?

  Resolution surged within Alanna. That couldn’t happen. Somehow, some way, she would have to gather evidence to clear his name.

  As Alanna and Matt ate their C-rations breakfast, the Costa Rican policemen stumbled out of their tents. The Marine corporal emerged a moment later, setting about making breakfast for himself. None of them looked as if they had slept particularly well. The vines and leaves shimmered with dew as the sun slanted through the dark jungle. Birds were calling melodically, and Alanna spied a small four-legged creature moving through the dense underbrush.

  “Juan said it was about five kilometers to where they had found those crates,” she mentioned.

  Matt looked over at her. “That’s not too far.”

  She stretched, getting to her feet. “I’m glad. I don’t think I could keep on walking for another day.”

  “What gives you the idea you’re going any further than this camp?” he demanded.

  She stared down at him. “I’m going with you,” she answered tightly.

  “Like hell you are.” His mouth thinned. “Didn’t anything I said last night sink in?”

  Anger fanned through her. “Don’t try and tell me what to do, Matt! I haven’t come this far not to get those photos.”

  He rose slowly, the muscles in his jaw clenched. His gray eyes were like dark thunderclouds. “What if we ran into guerrillas out there? Do you know what they’d do to us? To you? Alanna, this is not some kid’s game we’re playing. They have semi-automatic and automatic weapons. They’d cut us to shreds that fast.” He snapped his fingers.

  She shrugged, agitated. “Don’t try to scare me, Matt.”

  He threw the remains of his coffee out of his cup. “I’m calling base to have a chopper pick you up.”

  Alanna stood tensely in front of him. “You can’t have it land here—that would alert the guerrillas that you’re coming,” she tried to reason. “It’s also not safe to leave me behind because I’ll try to follow you…even though I’ll probably get lost.”

  His gray eyes burned with unshielded anger. They stood like poised adversaries for almost thirty seconds before she finally dropped her gaze from his.

  “No doubt all this concern is in behalf of your beloved senator. All right, Alanna, have it your way.”

  * * *

  She was miserable throughout the two-hour journey. He had ordered her to remain close behind him as they found a small, well-beaten trail through the jungle leading to the site. More than once, Alanna had acted as interpreter for Matt as he ordered the policemen to maintain at least fifteen yards between each man. Matt behaved differently under these circumstances, she noted. His expression was intense, his gaz
e restless and observant. More than once, he halted to listen, or to study what seemed nothing more than shadows created by the shifting sunlight.

  Perspiration soaked her blouse and her hair as the humidity rose around them. Finally, they broke into a small clearing ringed by huge mahogany trees. The policemen grew excited, trotting toward several broken crates out in the middle of the cleared area. Matt halted on the perimeter, remaining within the tree line. He put his arm out, stopping her forward progress. “Stay here,” he growled. Wiping the sweat off his face with the back of his sleeve, he ordered the corporal to scout around the area.

  It seemed obvious even to her that if they were in potentially unfriendly territory it would be unwise to rush out in broad daylight where the enemy could see them. Alanna appreciated his caution and contented herself with digging her camera out of her dirtied briefcase. “By the time I get back to Washington, Senator Thornton is going to owe me a new briefcase,” she muttered.

  He glanced coldly down at her as she knelt over it. “Don’t take any bets on it. He’s known to be a real penny pincher.”

  She tried to ease the tension between them and offered a smile. “You don’t have to tell me. I got a cost-of-living raise in January and that was it.”

  “For all the sixty-hour weeks you put in?”

  “I guess he figures that’s part of the glamor of working for a senator,” she answered brightly, standing up. “Oh, damn,” she muttered, “I’ve only got four pictures on this roll.” Worriedly, she reopened the case, finding a second canister of film. Stuffing it in her pocket, she shrugged. “I’ve got exactly sixteen pictures. I’d better make every one count.”

  He gave her a neutral look. “Sixteen ought to be more than enough. Come on, Corporal Huffman is signaling that it’s safe. It looks as though our guerrilla friends aren’t around today.”