She must, because he watched her kneel down to work the main nut beneath the Blazer to release the full-size spare mounted beneath the rear of the SUV. The tire settled into the foliage as the securing cable played out. But instead of removing the spare, Anna stood. He figured she was going for the jack when she stumped him again, using the tire iron to crack the top seal on the wooden crate inside the back of the Blazer. She levered off the top—and he cursed.
Out loud. A goddamned crate full of AK-47s.
The fury ripped in, gutting his hope clean through as Anna culled one of the black-market automatic rifles from the top of the cache and knelt to secure the weapon to the cable above the spare with a pair of plastic police zip-cuffs. She jerked her head toward the road as an oncoming rusted truck whooshed first by her hidden location, then his. He could see her hands shaking as she returned to the tire, rapidly hoisting it beneath the Blazer's undercarriage. Her terror was understandable, given the fact that if Looney Louie figured out she'd just stolen from him, cousin or not, she'd be dead.
Tom clamped down on his rage as Anna replaced the crate's wooden lid, hammering it into place with the tire iron before she restowed the tool and thumped the hatch shut. He waited as she slammed the driver's door and started the Blazer before peeling back onto the road. He had no idea what she planned to do with the rest of those rifles, but he would find out.
As for the one she'd just culled? He knew exactly what she'd be doing with that AK-47, and it wasn't what she'd planned. The hell with the woman's hair—he'd just figured out his second condition. And she would be honoring it.
* * *
Her hands were still shaking by the time she turned onto the hacienda's private driveway and it wasn't due to the insanely heavy traffic crowding the Interamericana that morning or even the convoy of logging semis that seemed determined to run her off the road moments earlier. Anna pried the fingers of her left hand from the steering wheel of Luis's latest gift and wiped her sweaty palm across the thighs of her jeans as the iron gates finally came into distant view.
Thank you, God.
She was almost home—and for better or worse, this entire three-month nightmare could be mere days from finally being almost over, but for one lingering, crucial step. All in all, the theft and main trip to drop off the extra weapons cache to Luis's most trusted and daring Huey pilot had taken less than thirty minutes. Her secondary mission to cull a weapon for Foster had taken even less. Two minutes total. But, God as her witness, her heart couldn't have withstood a second more. Even now, her breast throbbed. The pills whispered.
She did her damnedest to ignore both as the hacienda's massive gates loomed closer. She could make it to the next scheduled dose. She could. She would. If she had to, she'd take Samantha up on her offer and see if the woman's laptop was turned on, her instant messaging up and running already. If it wasn't—if Sam wasn't—she'd take a jog on the beach. No, she wasn't supposed to run this soon after the surgery. She didn't care. She had to do something other than lie around in that gilded cage and think about that seductive vial. About Tom Wild. About that dark, sultry kiss they'd shared.
Anna jacked up the music pulsing out from the Blazer's speakers, until the bass throbbed through her ears and in her bones, hoping Shakira's latest pounding Latino dance number would help purge all three from her brain.
It didn't.
She jerked her foot off the gas pedal as the illusion in her rearview mirror took on the appearance of chilling reality. If she didn't know better, she'd swear that raucous number had made him appear. Tom. In a black, battered jeep no less. A jeep that continued to scream up from behind until it was riding her rear bumper. Until he was riding it. She'd swallowed her prescribed dose upon waking, not one milligram more; she couldn't be hallucinating. Anna blinked just in case. The jeep didn't disappear. Nor did Tom. Instead, the jeep swerved out from behind and caught up with her as the Blazer slowed from the lack of gas, but then it shot ahead and over, cutting her off. She slammed on her brakes in the nick of time, the front rubber strip on her bumper all but kissing the jeep's passenger door as both their vehicles came to a screeching halt thirty feet from the hacienda gates.
She punched her window control, livid, as an impeccably dressed Tom vaulted from his jeep and stormed around the rear. "Are you nuts? You could have killed me!"
His jaw locked as he reached her side. "Trust me, lady, if I'd wanted to kill you, you wouldn't be talking now."
"Gee, thanks. Am I supposed to take that as a warning?"
"Wouldn't hurt."
"Wonderful. First you run me off the road, giving me whiplash and damned near putting me in the hospital and now you're making death threats. Maybe I should call the PDF. Or are you working for them now, too? Was I speeding, Officer Wild? Or maybe you just took it upon yourself to make sure I wasn't driving under the influence."
His gaze narrowed on hers, probing. "Are you?"
She refused to answer. And not because her fury was spent. Because he already knew the answer. She could tell by the look—the disgust—that entered his steel-blue eyes. And damn, but it hurt. "I'm quite capable of driving this thing."
"Good, then you should have no trouble turning off the engine and getting out."
"Now why would I want to do that? For that matter, why are you even here? This is a private driveway. We both know you speak Spanish, so don't tell me you missed the sign."
"I saw it."
"Then I suggest you leave now, Mr. Wild, before my cousin enforces the penalty that comes with disobeying it."
In retrospect, it wasn't the best comeback.
Before she realized what had happened, Tom's right hand snapped inside the cab, his callused palm rasping into the skin at the back of her neck as his fingers dug into the chignon she'd fashioned upon waking. Several strands came loose, slipping down around her face as the raucous pop number ended. The opening notes of a softer Iglesias ballad filled the cab as he dragged her closer, until she was staring into pure, molten fury. "Let's get a few things clear right now, honey. One, I am not afraid of your cousin. Two, given the fact that my hand has been up your skirt, I think you can safely address me by my given name. Now, get out of the car."
She couldn't help it, she swallowed firmly. "Why?"
"Because you have something I want." Something told her it wasn't what was under her skirt, even if she had been wearing one. A split second later, it hit her. No! Not the—
But he nodded.
Terror punched into her, kicking up the nausea her Percocet breakfast had induced to flat-out acidic roil. If Tom knew about the AK-47 she'd stashed beneath the Blazer, then he must have been lying in wait for her earlier. And if he'd seen her with that spare tire and was still here now—
"That's right, darlin'. You might not have bought in to your cousin's world willingly three months ago, but you're up to your ears in it now, aren't you? Errand girl."
Like the shock, the relief slammed in. She closed her eyes to hide it. If he thought she was running guns for Luis, that meant he didn't know about Eve. It also meant he wouldn't be able to use this morning against her, much less foil the arrangements she'd made. Yet. But there was still the Kalashnikov. His unspoken demand.
"Give me the rifle." Okay, now spoken.
It didn't matter. Neither his demands nor his anger would change a thing. She couldn't afford to bend. "I can't."
He dragged her closer, until she could feel the fire in his breath licking at her lips. "Let's get another thing clear. You can. What's more, you'd better. Because neither one of us is leaving this spot until I have that weapon."
She twisted away from his hand, scooting out of reach before he could stop her. Mistake number two. Before she realized his intentions, Tom had hooked his arm inside the open window. He popped the master lock on the driver's door and wrenched it open. She gasped as he reached inside and plucked her out of the cab as if she were little more than a child. Her legs shook as he dropped her on her feet, trapping her betw
een the Blazer's steel body and the equally unyielding muscles beneath that crisp linen shirt.
"Why do you even want the thing?"
"Because I know what you plan on doing with it."
No, he didn't. He couldn't. So what—"Drugs? You think I'm going to trade the rifle for—"
"I don't think, I know. How many pills were you supposed to get for it? Two whole bottles? Three? Or is your supplier desperate enough to give you more than the rifle's worth?"
"It doesn't matter. Because it's none of your business."
He grabbed her arms. "The hell it isn't. I'm making it my business. You and I had an agreement, lady, and you are not backing out. Two conditions. The second, whenever, wherever, and whatever I wanted. The when is now, the where is here and the what is that tube of black-market steel. You want my silence about the pills? You're going to have to earn it."
She didn't need his silence, she needed a miracle. At the very least, the mythical hero that damned singer was crooning about. Without that rifle, she could kiss the agreement she'd struck with Foster goodbye, not to mention her career and her life. She closed her eyes as the chorus poured out of the Blazer's window, taunting her.
"I can be your hero baby, I can kiss away the pain…"
She'd never liked that song. Or maybe she'd just liked it—felt it—too much. Either way, she got her wish. Her hero had actually arrived. In the damnedest place of all, too—or rather, in the damnedest person. Luis.
Anna jerked her eyes open and stared into ice-blue fury as the portentous purr of her cousin's stretch limo merged with the song's trailing notes. Moments later, the car closed in on the opposite side of the hacienda gates. Unlike her, Pepe must not have forgotten his remote because the gates swung open immediately and then her cousin was closing in on her. She didn't care. For the first time in three months Luis was the lesser of two evils—at the very least, the lesser of two devils—and she'd take him. If her heart wasn't still pounding against the wall of her chest, she might've actually enjoyed watching Tom squirm as the car stopped beside theirs.
Only…Tom wasn't squirming. Why?
He smiled down at her. "Guess who left a message at my hotel last night inviting me to breakfast?"
No.
But the smile on her cousin's face as his power window zipped down confirmed it. "You're early, Señor Wild." To her horror Tom slipped a proprietary arm around her waist, his fingers searing intimately into the outer curve of her rear end as he guided her around with him. As she feared, Luis's eager eagle eye took note. Her cousin didn't even try concealing his approval or his grin. "Evidently, I need not ask how your evening went in my absence. Nor why you are so eager to arrive this morning." Luis turned his smile on her. "I trust your errand went well, prima?"
"Sí."
"Excellent. You need no further assistance?"
No, what she needed was another miracle and she needed it now. "Thank you, Luis. You've done more than enough."
"Then you will not mind if I steal Señor Wild from you?"
Mind? She could kiss her cousin's scrupulously manicured hands and feet. She turned her own sincere smile on Tom, not even bothering to hide her triumph from him. "Not at all, cousin. I share Mr. Wild most willingly."
Thunder entered Tom's stare.
The good Lord granted her another boon as her cousin popped his limo door open before the lightning behind the thunder could lash out from Tom's mouth. "Come then, señor. A crisis requires my personal attention in the city. Perhaps we can discuss your duties after. As my cousin may have informed you, she has plans for the remainder of the day. Perhaps she can receive you for breakfast on the morrow…privately."
The hell she would.
Tom nodded to Luis. "Sounds like an equitable rain check to me." The man's smile even appeared sincere, until the moment he turned to focus it solely on her. He slipped his fingers into her chignon almost tenderly, smoothly decimating it with a single twist. His breath filled her ear as her hair tumbled down around them to buffer his low growl and the searing promise that followed, "You've got twenty-four hours, sweetheart. Meet me for breakfast at my hotel at oh-seven-hundred tomorrow with the rifle and the rest of those pills in tow. If you don't, I spill it all. The drugs and how you've been paying for them. Oh-seven-hundred, not one minute after. If you don't show up at my door by then, I'll be here, knocking on yours looking for Luis. ¿Entiendes?"
Before she could assure him she'd understood, much less breathe, he razed his scorching lips across her cheek and kissed her full on the lips, hard. And then he was gone, his jeep still blocking her path as he climbed into the stretch limo opposite her cousin and slammed the door behind him.
Twenty-four hours? How was she supposed to manage that?
She needed the rifle to buy another seventy-two for Eve Paris's safe return to Córdoba—from Foster of all men. Evidently she hadn't turned off the bug in her chest properly before her predawn meeting with Luis. Foster now knew all about Eve Paris and the plans Luis had helped her put into place. Plans that had to be executed tonight. Foster had called her cell phone while she was still warming up the Blazer's engine in the hacienda driveway and issued an ultimatum of his own. If she didn't produce one of the weapons, he might let Eve and her Special Forces captain reinsert back into Córdoba to investigate that Black Hawk crash, but one terse call to the wrong person and they'd never make it back out alive. Bastard. As far as she was concerned, the man was worse than Tom. At least Tom cared about the drugs, even if he wasn't trying to save her.
Foster might still claim he'd yet to uncover anything useful. But that didn't mean Sam hadn't.
She grabbed onto the hope and dove into the Blazer as the limo purred from sight. Anna twisted the key in the ignition and threw the SUV into Reverse, and then Drive, whipping around the jeep and then through the yawning gates Pepe had left open. She parked the Blazer on the far right of the six-car driveway, grabbing her purse as the engine died. She might have managed to walk calmly into the hacienda, but by the time she stumbled into the sanctuary of her plush prison, her hands and legs were shaking again, this time violently. And her chest was throbbing.
It took everything she possessed to dump her purse onto her dresser. She slammed the drawer shut on the concealed vial of pills within and forced her legs to wobble over to the desk. There, she pulled the miniature laptop forward and flipped it open as she sank down into the chair, her blood pounding through her ears as she punched through the key sequence designed to activate the hidden wireless communications link.
Desperation set in as she stared at the screen.
No e-mail from Foster and no open, encrypted instant messaging link to Sam—but, wait. There was a note from Sam. Anna punched the e-mail open and quickly skimmed the contents—and nearly cried. Apparently Sam hadn't been able to uncover anything useful on Tom. But the note contained even worse news. Not only would Sam be unavailable the rest of the day, she might be out of touch for the next week. Her boss had had a heart attack. Sam was desperately wrapping up the inspection, while she prepped to go to Moscow in the man's stead. Her Sister's advice? I'll bring my laptop to Moscow. Write soon. Sam. PS: Open the vial if you need me. It might have sunk to the bottom, but it's in there. I'm in there. We all are.
She knew exactly what her friend meant.
What she didn't have was the heart to e-mail Sam back and admit the rest. The gift had settled at the bottom of the vial. The only reason she'd found it so soon was because she'd dumped the pills out on her bed during a weak moment, shortly before dining with Tom. No matter what happened in the next twenty-four hours, no matter how many times she'd denied an addiction to the man, she had to live with the real reason she'd dumped out the pills. To count them. She'd needed to know how many she had left before she was forced to decide whether or not she'd go back for more. Again.
Anna killed the encrypted comm link and snapped the lid to the miniature laptop shut. She stood, fully admitting she was drawn to the dresser for more reasons
than one. She opened the drawer, and then the concealed compartment in her purse, pulling her breath in deep as she retrieved the vial of pills and popped the lid. Her Sisters were truly with her, because it had settled at the top. It wasn't hers, but she'd recognized it instantly. How could she not? It was identical to her own military sorority ring.
The words Sisters-in-Arms were even raised in polished, gold relief around the stone they'd chosen, a clear blue sapphire. They'd argued about the choice for weeks. Since they represented all branches of the military, they all carried different service colors, ranging from dark blue to light, dark green and red. In the end, Sam had floated a compromise. A medium blue stone, dark enough to represent the sea from which marines sprang and sailors sailed, but light enough to represent the sky where airmen flew, and beneath which soldiers were wont to sleep. A sky that also blanketed them all. Connecting them together after they parted, if only in their hearts. The one in her bottle had Samantha Hall engraved inside it. Sam must have slipped it in there after she'd discovered the Percocet prescription.
She must have been too out of it the day before to notice it amid the pills. But once she saw it, she knew exactly why it was there. Even before Sam's latest e-mail. Every time she opened the bottle, Samantha was inside it too, giving her strength. The rest of her Sisters as well, even if they didn't yet know what had happened to her. What she was really doing.
It helped. But in the wrong hands, it could kill.
How many traitors kept their military mementos hoarded this close to their chest? If she hadn't found it in time, she might have let Tom count the pills beneath, if only to get him off her back. There was no way she could risk that now. And nowhere else she could hide the ring. Not when Luis had made a habit of rifling through her things when she was out. There was also no way she could hand the vial over to Tom, let alone the rifle. Foster would not understand. Nor would he back down. But neither would Tom. She was truly trapped this time.
But it wasn't just her life in the balance anymore. Eve Paris and her Special Forces captain had joined her.
A Dangerous Engagement Page 12