Dangerous to Hold

by Merline Lovelace

  Che wore a tight, satisfied expression on his face, as though the the sight of the woman walking away from Jake pleased him enormously. Which it probably did, the bastard.

  “So, gringo,” he said with a sneer, “let us now turn to the business at hand.”

  “Yes,” Jake responded. “Let us turn to the business at hand.”

  His finger tapped a single coded signal on the metal gusset next to his buckle.

  When it came, the attack took Sarah by surprise, even though she was expecting it. Halfway across the clearing she heard a low, steady whump-whump-whump. Suddenly the treetops rattled, as though a violent wind had just blown in. The man beside her froze, then spun in the direction of the sound. Sarah swung around, as well, gasping at the sight that greeted her.

  Like a giant moth rising from the jungle canopy, a huge, black-painted helicopter lifted out of the trees and hovered over the clearing. Powerful spotlights switched on, and what Sarah later learned was a million footcandles of brilliant white light lit the entire area.

  Sarah brought the little pistol up. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you!”

  The heavyset man paused with one foot in the stirrup and a hand on the saddle horn. Squinting against the glare, Sarah saw rage seize his features.

  “You will not shoot.” He sneered. “Your hand is shaking so badly you would not hit me if you did. You hold that as though you’ve never fired a weapon before.”

  Sarah wrapped her second hand around the first. “I haven’t,” she admitted. “I’ve never touched a gun before in my life, and I’m extremely nervous about this.”

  In the wash of bright light, Sarah couldn’t tell if the man paled, but he did take an involuntary step backward, his eyes wide and fixed on her trembling hand. She heard the first shouts from the compound, and a sudden rattle of gunfire.

  “Get down,” she ordered. “On your face.”

  A sudden explosion rocked the earth back, far down the grassy runway. The horse, already skittish, danced sideways a few steps, threw up its head to avoid the piercing light, then galloped away. The patrón swore savagely and started toward her.

  “Get down!” Sarah shouted. “Get down, or I’ll…”

  She wasn’t sure what she’d do. She didn’t have to make the decision, however. The patrón was only a few yards away when a figure launched itself from behind her and took him down in a flying tackle. Sarah sobbed in relief as Jack’s fist slammed into the man’s face. Before she could say a word, he reached behind her, grabbed a handful of her skirts and yanked her down. Sarah fell beside him just as a brilliant red flare soared into the sky, marking their place.

  Red, she thought dazedly, her face pressed to the earth. As red as the quetzal’s breast, stained by the blood of the dying Mayan chief.

  It seemed to Sarah as though the red flare must have been a signal. The noise all around her suddenly intensified a thousandfold. A sudden whizzing sound split the night overhead. Rockets were launched from the helicopter, leaving bright trails as they arced overhead. Small explosions detonated all around the cluster of buildings. The hiss of escaping gas was added to the shouts and gunfire exploding all around.

  Her ear pressed to the earth, Sarah felt the reverberations of footsteps thudding toward them. Her fingers tightened around the little pistol.

  “Jaguar! Have you got her?”

  Sarah assimilated the sound of the woman’s voice and the name she used for Jack in the same second. She twisted her head and collected a confused picture of a tall, long-legged woman in black, with paint smeared across her face and a lethal-looking weapon in her hands. Incredibly, she was grinning at Sarah.

  “I’ve got her,” Jack replied, scrambling to his feet. “What about the kids?”

  “They’re already in the chopper. The strobe guided us right to them.”

  The tight, choking tension that had gripped Jake by the throat eased enough for him to swallow. He reached down and hauled Sarah to her feet. Her knees shook so badly that she sagged in his hold and would have crumpled to the ground.

  Jake swore, then bent and scooped her over his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her legs, keeping his other hand free for the weapon he snatched up from the ground.

  “Take care of this guy. I’ll put Sarah in the chopper, then join you. We’ve got work to do.”

  He raced to the helicopter, bent low, protecting Sarah’s body with his own. When he reached the side hatch, he tossed her inside. She scrambled to her knees, hampered by her skirts and the three year old who launched himself at her and wrapped both arms around her neck.

  “Jack!”

  “Stay here! Don’t try any more of your damned cowboy tactics. If you move, if you so much as stick your hand out the door, I swear I’ll—”

  A rattle of gunfire nearby cut him off. He whirled and ran to Maggie’s side.

  It was over in minutes.

  The gas canisters the assault helicopter had fired into the compound soon stilled all but a weak resistance. A burst of fire from the 50 mm cannons bristling from its nose shredded most of the tail on the smuggler’s aircraft and halted its desperate attempt to take off. The combined force of elite Cartozan and U.S. rangers moved through the compound, subduing the dazed, coughing defenders and collecting an arsenal of weapons that would have supplied a small army.

  “So, Chameleon, I will leave you now.”

  Maggie turned at the sound of Colonel Esteban’s voice. “Let me guess,” she said, grinning. “You’ve had a chat with one of the prisoners and managed to discover the exact coordinates of the processing plant nearby.”

  His black mustache lifted. “I have. The rest of my force will arrive within moments. You may see the explosion from here when the chemicals go up.”

  “I’d give anything to go with you!”

  He grinned. “So come.”

  Maggie shoved a hand through her hair. She was tempted. Lord, she was tempted. The thought of facing Adam held her back. She was going to have enough difficulty explaining to him how her simple extraction mission had expanded so dramatically.

  “I’d better not,” she said ruefully. “I’ll stay here and help clean up.”

  He stepped forward and curled a finger under her chin. Maggie swallowed—hard!—at the impact of his stunning masculinity at such close quarters.

  His thumb brushed her lips. “Perhaps we will work together again sometime, my Chameleon.”

  “Perhaps we will,” she answered, more than a little breathless.

  His thumb traced her lips once more, and then he was gone. Maggie watched him climb aboard a Cartozan helicopter. Stifling a small sigh, she went to back to work.

  The prisoners—including Jake’s middleman, a coldly furious patrón, and a superficially wounded Che—were herded aboard waiting choppers.

  Gleeful at the rich haul, Maggie greeted Jake with a sweep of one hand. “Do you believe this?”

  Fully expecting Jake’s usual quiet words of praise after a successful mission, Maggie gaped when he stalked past her toward the open hatch of the helo.

  “Jaguar! Wait, what—?”

  He reached inside, grabbed a fistful of black skirt and hauled the pseudosister out the open side hatch. She tumbled down into his arms, apparently not at all averse to his rough treatment. The three children scrambled out after her, followed by a heavyset woman.

  Maggie watched in astonishment as Sarah Chandler wrapped her hands around Jake’s neck and smiled up at him. Her eyes were luminous in the glare of the searchlights, and shining with an emotion that sent a spear of envy through Maggie’s heart. She dismissed it immediately. If anyone deserved to win a look like that from a woman, it was Jake. Self-contained, quiet, controlled Jake. A man who had put his duty and his dedication to OMEGA ahead of his own life for so many years.

  It occurred to Maggie that she wouldn’t have thought a woman with Sarah Chandler’s background would tumble into love with someone like Jake. But there wasn’t any doubt from the expression on her face tha
t that was exactly what she’d done. Of course, what Maggie had seen tonight made her realize that the senator’s daughter was one heck of a lot tougher than her fragile, delicate appearance suggested.

  Jake didn’t seem to be appeased by the glowing look in Sarah’s remarkable eyes. His dark brows were drawn into a slash, and he glared down at her.

  “If you ever—ever—do anything as harebrained and idiotic as that again, I swear I’ll…I’ll…”

  Maggie, the three children and assorted strike team members all waited with interest to hear what exactly he would do.

  So did Sarah. When he appeared unable to articulate his precise intentions, she laughed up at him.

  “What you need to do, Mr. Gringo-Creighton-Jack-Jaguar, is consider your options. You can stand here and sputter at me. You can put me down. Or you can kiss me.”

  Jake gave a strangled groan and bent his dark head.

  Maggie folded her arms across her chest and rocked back on her heels, thoroughly fascinated by this new, previously hidden facet of Jaguar’s personality. She’d worked with him for two years, seen him operate in every conceivable situation. Except this one. Evidently he was as thorough and as skilled in his lovemaking as he was in everything else, she thought in amusement, wondering when either of them was going to come up for air.

  The little girl beside Maggie watched in smug complacency, a strange-looking doll tucked under her chin.

  “Sarita is not the religiosa, you understand,” she explained earnestly. “She just wears the robes. She and Señor Creighton are going to be married. By a padre. A real padre.”

  “I have to make the pee-pee,” the smallest child announced.

  The helicopter ride back to Cartoza City was considerably less hair-raising than the one that had brought Maggie out. She held the squirming little three year old in her lap. Once assured that they weren’t going to die, he squealed in delight every time the aircraft banked, and bounced on her thighs. Maggie noted with some interest that although the little girl clung to Jake like a limpet, he managed to hang on to Sarah’s hand, as well.

  One of Colonel Esteban’s aides met them at the military airstrip outside the city. He came screeching up in a Jeep loaded with an assortment of supplies and a dapper little man in a neat, dark suit and discreet red tie. Maggie jumped out, waiting while Jake unloaded the children. She smiled as the precise, prissy little man wiped a handkerchief across his damp, balding forehead, folded it in neat squares, then tucked it into his breast pocket, leaving an exact half inch showing.

  When Jake lifted Sarah out of the chopper, he stepped forward.

  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you safe, Miss Chandler.”

  Sarah swung around, her mouth dropping in surprise. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  The man minced forward. There was no other word to describe it, Maggie decided. He definitely minced.

  “I came at your father’s behest, of course.” He folded his lips in a thin, prim smile. “I was prepared to go into the jungle to search for you, but these gentlemen assured me their colonel would bring you back safely. In fact, they forcibly restrained me.” His nose wrinkled. “In a rather disgusting cell.”

  Sarah stepped forward to lay a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thank you for coming for me, Creighton.”

  Jake gave a strangled choke.

  Sarah ignored him and smiled down at the balding little man. “I know from past experience that you would’ve whisked me out from under those guerrilla’s noses with the same efficiency you use when you extract my father from the political messes he’s forever creating.”

  He preened under her generous and quite sincere praise.

  Maggie had to admire Sarah Chandler’s style. She was good. Damn good. She exuded an aura of charm and elegance, despite the ragged black robe that hung shapelessly around her and her limp, straggling hair. Maggie hid a grin. Jake was not going to know what hit him when Miss Chandler got back to Washington and was once more in her own element.

  Then again, she thought as Jake stepped forward and slid a proprietary arm around Sarah’s waist, maybe he already had a pretty good idea.

  “A jet is waiting for you,” the aide informed them, then waved toward the Jeep. “My colonel told me you may wish some fresh clothing and food for the journey. He also sent some gifts for you. And something for the one called Chameleon.”

  He reached into the back seat and pulled out a cardboard box. Maggie took it with a smile of thanks, then jumped when the box moved in her hands.

  The aide turned to address Sarah. “We have a padre standing by at headquarters to take the children. He will see they are cared for until they find homes. The colonel said to tell you he himself will ensure that the woman finds a place to live and good employment.”

  Sarah nodded numbly. She turned, her throat closing at the sight of Teresa standing beside Jack, the root doll dangling from one hand. Eduard, still, silent, brave Eduard, stood at his other side. Eleanora held Ricci in her arms, her face impassive.

  “I…” She wet her lips and tried again. “I…”

  “We have to go, Miss Chandler,” Creighton—the real Creighton—said kindly, clearly understanding her distress. “I’ve arranged for an air-force jet to take us back to Washington. Your father is most anxious to have you home.”

  “Do not worry, they will be well cared for,” the aide assured her.

  Sarah ignored both men. Her eyes met Jack’s across a few feet of concrete runway. “I can’t do it. I can’t leave them.”

  “Miss Chandler!”

  She stepped around Creighton. Two steps brought her to within a heartbeat of the tall, lean mercenary.

  “I love you, Jack. I love you more than I ever dreamed it was possible to love in any lifetime. But I can’t leave them here.”

  He reached for her. “Sarah, I don’t want—”

  She grasped his arms, her eyes pleading, needing this settled before she walked into his hold. Once there, she knew, she’d never want to leave.

  “I know we haven’t had time to talk about the future, our future. You’re so self-sufficient, so independent, I don’t even know if you want me in your life.”

  “Just try getting out of it,” he growled.

  Her fingers dug into his arm. “Can’t you make room for all of us? We’ve been through so much together. We’re a family. We…we need each other.”

  He slid his hands around her waist, drawing her up against him. “Sarah, listen to me. I love you, too. I don’t want to leave the children or Eleanora behind, either. I have no intention of leaving them behind. And there’s plenty of room in my life for all of you.”

  He tightened his hold. “In fact, I didn’t realize how empty it was until I met you and your assorted charges, Sarita Sarah Josepha.”

  Sarah stared up into his shadowed eyes, wondering how she’d ever thought them cold and hard. At this moment, they gleamed with a warmth and a love that Sarah knew was reflected in her own eyes.

  A small hand tugged at her much-tried black robe. “There is a padre here,” Teresa reminded them both solemnly. “I heard the man with the Jeep say so. If he is a real padre, he can make us a real family.”

  “Yes,” Sarah said slowly, “he can.” She turned back to Jack, a question in her eyes.

  “Miss Chandler, really.” Creighton materialized behind Teresa, his mouth pursed disapprovingly. “This is all highly irregular.”

  “Go get him,” Jake ordered quietly, his eyes never leaving Sarah’s face.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Go get the padre.”

  “Now see here, Senator Chandler would hardly approve. I suggest you—”

  “Move it, Creighton. Now!”

  Sarah bit her lip as the little man huffed off and clambered into the Jeep. It roared away into the darkness, leaving them wrapped in silence for a moment.

  “You know,” Sarah said softly, “this means you’ll finally have to blow your cover. You’re going to have
a tough enough time convincing the padre to perform a marriage for someone wearing a nun’s habit. Somehow I don’t think he’ll consent to do it if you give your name as Mr. Gringo Jaguar.”

  His lips twitched. “No, I guess not.”

  She leaned back in his arms. “Well?”

  “Jake?”

  “Jake what?”

  “Jake MacKenzie.”

  She shook her head. “Not good enough. I want the whole thing. Exactly as it appears on your birth certificate. The one you had before it was no doubt altered by this agency you work for.”

  He grinned down at her. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

  “I’m ready for anything.”

  “Stonewall Jackson Duncan MacKenzie.”

  “Oh, my,” she said faintly.

  Jake nodded, his eyes gleaming with laughter. “My father was a great admirer of men of action.”

  She answered with a smile of her own. “So am I, my darling. So am I.”

  Chapter 16

  An afternoon breeze rustled the branches of the oak trees that lined the quiet side street just off Massachusetts Avenue. A small family of tourists wandered down the brick sidewalk, obviously lost. The sandy-haired mother consulted her tour guide, then peered at the discreet bronze plaque beside the door of one of the elegant town houses. She shook her head. The father grimaced, hitching his heavy camera bag higher on his shoulder. Taking one of the towheaded youngsters by the hand, he turned around and headed back toward the main avenue. The mother and the two other protesting children followed.

  Maggie watched from the town house’s second-story window as the family trudged past. The children looked cranky and bored, the father exasperated and the mother tired. Right now she would have exchanged places with any one of them.

  “The special envoy will see you now.”

  She swiveled around and returned Elizabeth’s smile. Jake rose from one of the high wing-backed chairs placed on either side of an exquisite and extremely rare Queen Anne table. Maggie, no expert in antiques, knew it was Queen Anne because the knowledgeable, gray-haired Elizabeth had told her so. She could discern for herself the beauty in the rectangular thumb-molded marble top and delicately carved walnut legs.