Intimate Danger

by Amy J. Fetzer

  What concerned him wasn’t the deadly message, but the air whispering through the chambers. What else was beyond the wall?

  Twelve

  The car jolted and rode on the rim.

  “What? There are no good police in this town?” she said through her teeth as Mike fought with the wheel.

  “Some long arms of the law, huh?”

  A loud thwap said the tire just ripped off the rim and Clancy twisted to see sparks flying from the wheels. The loud, shrieking grind made light come on in homes as they headed out of the town.

  Then he headed into the jungle. “Well, we were going here anyway,” he said, and she knew they couldn’t stop. “We have to get to where you found the UAV piece, a-sap. It will put us near the crash site. That’s if Gantz’s trajectory is right.”

  They turned onto a narrow road, the surface decently smooth, and she breathed relief till Mike shut off the headlights and kept driving.

  “You like living this dangerously? Jeez, Gannon.” She pushed back in the seat, just waiting for him to hit something. Yet he was calm, steering as if he could see. Then the car jerked to a halt as the rim stuck in the ground.

  Clancy put her hands out to keep from hitting the windshield, then scowled at him.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, then gave it gas and the car spun sideways. “Bug out, Irish,” he said, leaving the car and pulling on the pack.

  Clancy climbed out, adjusting her pack, and quickly they headed off the road, the car blocking travel.

  He thrust black gloves at her. “The plants are as mean as the animals.”

  She slipped them on, hurrying behind him. “Oh yeah, like we don’t have enough trouble.” Thankfully, they had a Velcro tab because these things wouldn’t fit anything less than a gorilla. She saw the flash of light. “They’re here.” With him, she ran several yards, her only point of reference in the dark the glow of his GPS.

  “You locked and loaded?”

  Oh, shit. “Yes.”

  “Watch your six.”

  “You’re trusting my aim more than me.”

  “I’m trusting a lot more than that.” His voice came softly and Clancy squeezed his hand. He squeezed back and some little spot in her coiled right up.

  He made a turn, and she knew he was getting them to a spot that wasn’t visible from the road. They pushed between the trees, the ground vegetation dense and dripping with twilight dew.

  “This is good enough.” For a brief moment, he shone the light toward the road, then cut it off. Mike felt for his satellite phone and shut it off. They sat, and he rolled down his sleeves and told her to take off the pack. He stashed them under forest debris, then swept the ground around them, hiding tracks.

  “They aren’t giving up.” Her voice was soft in his ear, her breath sending a shiver down Mike’s throat.

  He tipped his head, his lips brushing her ear. “I wouldn’t.”

  Clancy smoothed a moan and thought, Oh, please keep doing that. “This is well over the top. Why so persistent?”

  Mike was thoughtful for a moment. “Hell if I know. We can’t identify anyone but Richora. What did you see?”

  “Nothing, except where they stopped me.” As succinctly as she could, she told him about the lambs and going off the road. “Richora asked me what I saw and said the men who tried to take me were Shining Path.”

  “Oh, hell.” Jansen had mentioned them. Shining Path was alive and kicking, just under a couple of different names. Like Nazis. They wanted the same thing—oppression. Communists, Islamic Jihad, Congo rebels, Tigers, whatever they called themselves, a maniac with a WMD was a high-priority problem. Unfortunately, most of the intel community thought they were put down. They’d just risen under a new flag.

  Clancy could feel Mike’s concentration. “Richora knew my guide. I got that someone hired Fuad to kidnap me, or at least make it possible so he could.” She paused, a chill gripping her. “That’s what I thought before Richora shot him. But I was hooded.”

  She didn’t see it. “The guy in your room, Denner?”

  “That’s saying they are one and the same. But it would explain why he was at the bus stop. He’d been there already trying to kidnap me. Which is pointless.”

  “Not if he wanted to let the rebels take care of the job for him. It’s been done. Hire someone to do a job and he gets more out of it by using other people to do it for him with threats.”

  “I don’t really know the criminal mind anymore.”

  Mike held back a chuckle, suddenly frowning at the road, and they moved back a little farther.

  In a moment, she heard the footsteps and the brush of leaves. How does he do that? A bright light swept back and forth over the jungle. It wasn’t dense where they walked; land developers were trying to put in a highway through the Amazon. The men neared and Clancy held her breath.

  Mike pushed her head down, leaning over her like a shield. The crack of dry, dead branches snapped crisply in the dark. Without a choice, the men moved slowly into the jungle. A couple of charges to knock them off their feet would have done nicely, he thought, but hadn’t had the time. They were less than twenty yards away, the light faint till it speared near them. Flesh would glare in the dark, the reason he’d rolled down his sleeves. Clancy didn’t have any.

  He closed his eyes, and smelled the musty earth tossed up with each careful step, just as he could feel Clancy’s heart pounding where his hand rested on her back, his arms curled around her to hide her skin from the hunters. In his hand, he held his pistol, cocked and locked.

  The men shone the light at their feet, took a step, then swept the area high and low. They couldn’t do both. On the jungle floor, there wasn’t a shred of moonlight and it was uneven and combing with exposed roots. It was their one advantage. Mike could see boots now, hear the shift of the dirt and pebbles beneath them. They shuffled, the movement of unsure steps.

  Mike slipped his finger over the trigger. Five against two wasn’t good odds. A firefight would bring more of Richora’s personal brigade.

  Then a radio crackled and he heard a man respond quickly in Spanish. “No, we haven’t found them. We’re forty kilometers in.” There was disgust in the caller’s voice, but with the distortion, recognition was impossible. “Come back. We will go at first light.”

  Mike didn’t expect them to give up. They wanted them both dead. There was something big in this area, in the jungle. Something worth killing all the witnesses to protect. He could think of no other reason for the vanishing act of his men, the crash, the Peruvian troops. But it was clear they weren’t taking any chances.

  The men paused to discuss the orders and seemed glad of it. Except one man, his face bloody. Mike figured he was one of the drivers who’d crashed. The man turned and aimed into the forest. The bastard cracked off five shots.

  The final bullet hit.

  Choufani had seen her from a distance and intentionally kept in her path. In either her line of sight or physically being near her, he wanted her to know he existed and that he was watching her. He kept back so she’d have no reason to summon the police. He’d have considerable explaining to do and no means to do it. He truly didn’t want to sit in a jail till his agency came for him. They were slow at that sometimes.

  But she noticed him. Each time she saw him it was a longer look, a little softer smile. He’d merely nodded and kept walking. In the park, he walked to a small frozen treat vendor, and bought a frosty ice cream. He was dragging his tongue over the chocolate when he backed away for another customer and found Marianna three feet away. He went still for a second, thinking it was too soon to approach her, then backed farther away.

  She paid for ice cream for her two children. None for herself. And after the children had theirs, she took their hands and turned toward him. She looked him dead in the eye, then walked toward the stone path.

  As she passed, he heard her say, “Stop this, please. For your own sake.”

  Choufani schooled his features. She didn’t miss a step
as she strolled with her children down the park lane, smiling down at them, taking a lick of the sweet ice cream. Guards followed her at a distance. Then she looked back over her shoulder.

  Antone was struck again by her beauty, and then by the venom in her eyes.

  Mike felt her flinch hard and held her still. It tore at him not to check her, to hold her and be unable to move. As the man stepped away, he leaned close to her ear.

  “Are you okay?”

  “That was right by my knee!”

  He felt her trembling, and still shielding her, he watched the men retreat. He didn’t let her up or speak till the men were far enough away. “They’re leaving. Definitely Richora’s troops.”

  “He’s really taking this too far, ya know.”

  He let her up, yet spoke softly. “He’ll take it to the end. Remember the sniper near the border river?” She nodded. “Those shots were from an elevated range.”

  Clancy looked toward the mountaintop in the far distance, its highest peak topped with snow and mist, and glowing in the crescent moonlight. “So now we have to watch out for a sniper? At least he can’t see us in the dark.”

  “Unless he has thermals,” Mike said.

  “You are just such a bag of optimism, aren’t you?”

  He chuckled as he stood and helped her up. “We need to keep moving.” He turned on the GPS. “We’re a half mile in.” He met her gaze. “You were three miles in last time.”

  “Seemed a lot farther.” She swiped at her hair and Mike noticed her hands were shaking. He reached for her, tugging just a bit, and she went into his arms. She gripped him tightly. “I needed that,” she muttered into his chest, and Mike rubbed her spine.

  “I know you’re not used to this.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  Over her head, he smiled. She sounded like a kid who didn’t want to go to bed. “I am.”

  She leaned back and searched his gaze. “You big fat liar.”

  Mike’s smile was slow and she joined him. “I’m not fat.”

  She laughed and pushed out of his arms to grab her pack and pull it on. They walked for another half hour before Mike shone the light long enough to see his surroundings. “We need to climb.”

  “Oh yes, let’s,” she said dryly.

  They did. Her legs burned from strain, and when he stopped, she leaned on a tree.

  “We’ll rest here till sunup.” With his back to the twisted roots of a tree, Mike settled down to the ground and patted the space beside him.

  “Oh, thank God.” She dropped the pack, then sank to the ground, snuggling up to him and using his chest for a pillow. “Wake me if the bad guys show.”

  She exhaled long and low, and in moments she was asleep. Her hand on his chest, Mike disengaged her pistol from her grip as it went lax. He stretched his legs out and laid his own weapon at his side, and kept his gaze on the nearest path several yards ahead. He snuggled her more comfortable. It felt good, her compact body wrapped around his. It had been a while. Mike didn’t cultivate relationships very well, and after a few disasters he stayed celibate till opportunity knocked. It was as much his fault as his job’s. Most couldn’t handle it, nor understand his real purpose. He didn’t bother to explain, and secrecy kept women back.

  Clancy’s hand shifted to his stomach and Mike felt his muscles instantly flex. He moved her hand away from the danger zone and tried not to think about her touching him with nothing between them. He wondered how long he’d last without tasting her again. There was almost an innocence in her kiss, yet from the dossier Jansen had first given him over the phone, he knew she’d been married. He smiled to himself when he thought of her past, such a little bad girl. She snuggled closer and he thought, two hours to sunrise. He’d be lucky if he made it.

  At least the hard-on she gave him would keep him alert. He had to trust her, but not completely. People did weird things when they were threatened. Yet he had every reason to believe her and even more not to take her word that the nanotechnology was real.

  He hated the thought of his men volunteering for such an experiment. Yet it could be the very thing that saved their lives. A nice little double-edged sword, he thought.

  “What are you thinking?” she said, and it startled him.

  He tipped his head to look at her. She never opened her eyes. Why did women always ask that? “Honestly?”

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t know whether to be grateful or angry with you.”

  “That happens a lot to me.”

  Mike smiled. “Sleep, jailbird.”

  “Choice is yours,” she mumbled sleepily.

  Mike couldn’t seem to make it. That double-edged sword again.

  The sun peaked over the horizon in pink, but to Clancy it was crashing through the trees like a spotlight in the darkness. Clancy lay perfectly still, enjoying the feel of a man—no, this man beside her. It was like sleeping in a rock, though, every inch of him ripped and hard.

  “Playing possum?”

  She tipped her head, smiling. “This is a good-to-be-alive smile, in case you didn’t notice.” She pointed to it.

  “Optimists,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  She laughed, her hand on his chest moving upward to the back of his neck, her fingers pushing into his hair as she pulled him down.

  “Are you always this straightforward?” he said, leaning.

  “Yup.”

  Mike went willingly, and when his mouth touched hers, it was all he could do not to devour her whole. She was warm, her mouth soft and playful, teasingly taking her time, refusing to let him rush it. He loved it; patient when she was so impatient before. It was strange, he could have sent her stateside in handcuffs and leg irons just hours ago.

  You’re a sap, he thought, and while internal warnings were going off inside his brain, the sudden dark need for her smothered them as he kissed her back. Her response knocked him sideways, and when he ran his hand down her spine and pulled her tighter, he knew he had to stop this before he lost control. With Clancy, that was getting easier by the hour.

  Mike drew back, running his fingers across her lips, and heard her breath rushing in her lungs.

  “Damn those bad guys,” she said, then grasped his hand, drawing it back and looking pointedly at the gun in his hands. “There is something just so not sexy about that.”

  Mike rolled back, wondering what kind of man that made him when he could have a beautiful woman in his arms and still be aware of the hunter. Good, or just isolated more than he was willing to admit? He figured it was the latter as he stood.

  She sat up, brushing off dirt, then reached for the pack. Instead of changing out her things, she just stuffed it inside, then checked her weapon. He held his hand out to her and she accepted it and stood. He gave her a small machete in a sheath that had four straps hanging from it.

  “Tie it upside down on your arm or maybe your thigh. Just make sure it’s the easiest to grab.”

  Clancy strapped it on her left arm and drew the knife a few times, freeing it easily.

  The defensive stance gave him pause. “It’s to cut the underbrush.”

  She sheathed it. “Scary, aren’t I?”

  “Just aim for the black hats.” He took out the GPS and she leaned over to look.

  “Where are we now?” He hit a button and a dot lit up under the screen. “That’s two miles.” Her hands on her hips, Clancy’s look scolded. “Do we have to discuss that pace thing again?”

  He grinned, and it transformed his face, giving her breath a little trouble leaving her lungs.

  “Just keep up, swabby.” Mike led the way.

  At least the view was a highlight, she thought, smiling to herself.

  It had taken a lot of calls and searching through files to get information on his own team members. That alone made him suspicious and angry enough to throw his weight around and call a favor to the deputy secretary of defense. It was a program, they called it. Experimental technology. Like the biomarkers. Well, t
hey’d taken it a lot further, and he gained the information as if he’d heard a rumor and wanted to crush it. No one knew that he might have proof it was implanted or injected in human beings. It was in the experimental testing stage. They never would have done this, not without Gannon.

  Now it was time to confront the source.

  Moving through the offices in the medical facility, Hank was unimpressed with the three stages of secretaries that were like a garrison protecting Colonel Cook. He was escorted in by a petite female soldier who’d already done combat time and was full of smiles and accommodation. Better than a foxhole of sand, he thought and with his cover tucked in his waist belt, he entered the office.

  Cook stood and smiled, greeting him. “Nice to see you, Hank. What can I do for you?”

  Cook was tall and narrow and he stood behind his desk at parade rest. It told Hank several things; one was that he was far too uptight for his age. Most of his fellow full birds were relaxed, old school, and ready to retire. It meant that they pushed the envelope, not really caring who didn’t like their opinion. Cook pushed the envelope in a different direction.

  “I’ve got some troubling stats and I was hoping you could shed some light.”

  Hank closed the door and went to the desk, setting his briefcase down before he opened it. He took out the stack of files and dropped them on the desk.

  “Tell me about this, Carl. What have you been doing here?”

  Carl frowned and picked up the top folder, glanced at it, then closed it. “I don’t know what you mean. It’s a medical record. This is a hospital.”

  “Look at the stats for physical training.” Carl did, humoring him, Hank felt.

  “This means what?”

  “Well, I’m thinking about a time when you came to us. I have a report on this project. It was so long ago that I’d forgotten about it.”

  Carl offered nothing. He wasn’t going to play his hand. It sent up smoke signals, and Hank was determined to get past the fire. “This”—he tapped the folders—“was brought to my attention or I wouldn’t have noticed.”