by Cindy Dees
“I told you. France.”
Yeah, right. And she was the Easter Bunny. “Well, regardless, you’re a natural with kids. You should have a bunch of your own someday.”
Alarm bordering on panic passed across his face. “Impossible.”
“Why not?”
He glanced over at the children, who were still kicking the ball back and forth. “Look what happened to them. Their father was in a violent business and got himself killed. And where did it leave them? Running for their lives through no fault of their own.”
Guilt speared through her. Memory of her persistent calls to congressmen, journalists and various international human rights groups flashed through her mind. She’d been one of the main reasons Garza’s violence had finally been exposed. She might not have pulled the trigger of the gun that killed him, but she’d darn well painted the target on his back.
She glanced over at Drago. “So you’d never consider leaving the arms business to pursue more peaceful endeavors?”
He shrugged. “Once you’ve made the kind of enemies I have, peace isn’t in the cards. The best I could hope for is to lie low long enough that my enemies eventually forget about me.”
“That doesn’t sound impossible.”
He shredded a long stem of grass into tiny bits and announced bitterly, “No woman would agree to living in danger for years just to be with me.”
“I would.”
She swore at herself. Had those words just come out of her mouth? She stood up hastily, studiously avoiding meeting his eyes as she gathered the remains of their meal and stuffed the trash into a plastic grocery bag. But oh, how she felt his gaze upon her, watching her every move with hawklike attention. She would not look at him. She would not look at him….
At the end of the day, it wasn’t as though she should or would find happiness, herself. After abandoning her parents, blithely going out to pursue her own fun and leaving them behind to die, she didn’t deserve an instant of joy for the rest of her life.
The children reluctantly ended their play at Drago’s quiet declaration that it was time to go. She had to give the kids credit for having been tremendously patient about being cooped up so long in the backseat of a car. Hopefully, they were too young to understand the danger they’d been in yesterday, but she feared they were fully aware of how close to dying they had come.
Mia and Emanuel had no more choice about who their father was and what he’d done than she did. She had that in common with them, too. All three of them were victims of Valdiron Garza.
Grandma was stoic about the loss of her home. She’d been penniless and displaced before, apparently. She seemed to grasp that being alive and safe was what truly mattered. All the creature comforts and possessions could be replaced. Elise knew better than most that family could not be replaced, however.
The children came over to the Jeep, panting, and Drago loaded them into the vehicle with quick ruffles of their hair that brought smiles to the children’s faces. Yup, a natural with kids.
“How much longer are you planning to drive?” Elise asked him.
“Until the Army of Freedom finds us.”
“What if they don’t?”
“Then I guess I’ll have to find them.”
“With all of us in tow?”
“Tell me where you’d like me to drop you off—someplace that’s reasonably safe—and I’ll be happy to oblige you.”
Elise sighed. No place in Colombia was safe for the Garza children. Their father had terrorized people from one end of the country to the other. Her original plan was still the best one: make for a city with an international airport and get the heck out of Dodge.
Grandma spoke up from the backseat. “You wish to find the Army of Freedom?”
Elise turned around, surprised. “Do you know how to do that?”
“Of course. My son and daughter are both freedom fighters. Go to Mercado. There’s a hotel called La Guarida del Diablo.”
“The Devil’s Den?” Elise muttered in English. “Well, isn’t that just cheerful?”
Drago snorted beside her.
“Do you know it?” she asked him.
“How hard can it be to find with a name like that? Everyone for miles around will know where it is.”
“Do you know where Mercado is?” Elise asked. She opened the glove compartment in search of a map but found none.
“Nope, but I can find out.” He pulled out a cell phone and held it to his ear.
“I need directions to Mercado.” He listened for several moments and then disconnected.
How did he do that? How did the person on the other end of the phone know where Drago was right now to be able to rattle off directions to some village? It wasn’t as if the various high-end satellite tracking services in the United States were available in an isolated place like this. “Who was that?” Elise demanded.
“A friend.”
“How did your friend know where you are?”
Drago frowned and didn’t answer.
“I’m not stupid. How did whoever you called know where we are? Who’s watching us?”
“No one you need to worry about.”
“I don’t buy it. I’m responsible for two children and one elderly lady. I have a right to know.”
“Oh, and now you’re responsible for Grandma, too?”
“Yes, I am. She was looking out for the kids when her home was burned down and she lost everything she owns. It’s the least I can do for her.”
“She was in the wrong village at the wrong time. Unless—” Drago glanced over at her keenly “—you think the children were the reason for the army attack and not the rebel patrol in the area.”
“It had to be the Army of Freedom. They’re just orphans.”
“Are they really Garza’s kids?”
She swore mentally. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
He pressed his lips together and she did the same. They both had their own secrets to guard. The day’s easy camaraderie evaporated, leaving behind tense silence between them.
Finally, when she couldn’t stand the suspense any longer, she asked tightly, “How far to Mercado?”
“A half hour if the road holds up.”
A half hour until they would part ways, most likely never to see each other again. As infuriating as he might be with his secrets and macho attitude, sharp regret pierced her annoyance. In a different time, different circumstances, they might have had something special between them. As slowly as the minutes and miles had crawled all day, they flew past that quickly now.
There had to be something she could say. Some way to break through the stony silence he’d pulled around himself like a fortress. But she was supposed to be a nun. It wasn’t as though she could hand him her phone number with an admonition to give her a call sometime. Besides, the guy was an illegal arms dealer, for crying out loud. She had no interest in entangling herself in a world of crime and violence. No man was worth dying for.
Lights began to twinkle ahead of them. Mercado. They would arrive in just a few minutes. A vague sense of panic hovered at the edge of her consciousness. It was a mistake to let this man slip out of her life. But what could she do? It boiled down to a choice between jeopardizing the children’s safety by revealing her nun ruse and her lust for a hot arms dealer. The right decision was a no-brainer.
The Jeep slowed and pulled over to the side of the road beneath a cluster of trees. Drago turned off the headlights and the ignition.
“What are we doing?” she asked in alarm.
“You and I are getting out of the car for a minute.”
“Why?” she demanded, her voice squeaking in alarm.
“We need to have a conversation. In private.”
Chapter 9
Ted was surprised when Elise actually climbed out of the Jeep, albeit with obvious reluctance. He murmured an excuse to Grandma about needing to discuss possible dangers ahead and not wanting to frighten the children. The older woman’s gaze shifted back and forth between h
im and Elise. Crud. She didn’t look like she bought his excuse. Sharp old bird, she was.
He turned off his cell phone and murmured into the concealed microphone sewn into his collar, “Turn off the recorders for a minute. This is private.”
“Excuse me?” Elise asked as she came around the end of the vehicle.
“Nothing,” he mumbled. He took her by the elbow and led her deeper into the trees, no more than a dozen yards from the Jeep, but completely out of sight of its dark silhouette.
He turned to face her and she took an immediate step back, crossing her arms across her chest defensively.
“Don’t you think it’s time we had a frank conversation with each other?” he asked quietly.
“Not at all. I’ve got nothing to be frank about, thank you very much.”
“Perhaps you’d like to explain to me why you’re pretending to be a nun?”
“Pretending…why, I…how dare—”
He cut her off. “Give it up. There’s no way a nun would kiss me like you did. Twice.”
“The first time was your fault. The second time was merely…overflowing relief.”
“So you’re trying to tell me that our kisses had no effect on you? That you don’t want to do it again and you’re willing to walk away from whatever this is between us?”
“I—” She ground to a halt.
He had to give her credit for not being comfortable with lying. She was trying to be as honest as she could within the confines of her disguise. And hey. At least she was hesitating at the idea of walking away from him. That was good news—
Wait a minute. What the hell was he thinking? That wasn’t good at all! He was a Special Forces operator in the middle of an incredibly dangerous and sensitive mission. Brady Hathaway would have his head on a platter if he screwed this up because of a woman, no matter how flaming a do-gooder she was.
“…fine,” she was saying. “You caught me. I confess I’m guilty of having impure thoughts. I’ll go to confession when I get home and will no doubt do penance for the next twenty years. But that’s between me and my priest.”
He chuckled. “Impure thoughts? Honey, you kiss like you were made for sin.”
It was too dark to see much, but she looked a bit overheated all of a sudden. She spoke calmly enough when she replied, though. “We’ve been over this before. In spite of my profession, I am in fact a female and human, and subject to the same…urges…as any other woman.”
“So you deny that you find me as irresistible as I find you?”
“Irresistible?” she echoed faintly.
“That’s right,” he answered firmly. “Admit it. You’re no more a nun than I am.”
“How dare you—”
He held up a hand, cutting off her protest. “Enough with the flimsy disguise, already.” Time was growing short, and he wasn’t getting back in the car until they’d cut through all the crap and gotten to the truth.
“But—”
“Care to kiss me again and prove that you don’t feel a thing when we do it?” Her eyes blazed. But with lust or fury, he couldn’t tell. “Go on, Elise. I dare you. Kiss me.”
“And then you’ll drop this line of questioning once and for all?”
“What the heck. Sure.”
She stepped forward, a determined glint in her eyes. Desire leaped in his gut all of a sudden. This should be interesting. She put a hand on his chest, incinerating the spot over his heart with her soft touch. He watched her with predatory eyes as she stood on tiptoe and pecked him on the mouth with tightly pursed lips so quickly he barely felt it.
She stumbled back as if he’d burned her and he grinned. “That wasn’t a kiss, darlin’, and you know it.”
She huffed. “You’re enjoying torturing me, aren’t you? People go to hell for less, you know.”
His grin widened. “I’m waiting.”
“You are insufferable.”
“Too much talking. Not enough kissing.”
“Ooh,” she growled. “What did I ever see in you?”
“I dunno. Kiss me and find out.”
“One kiss. And then you’ll drop the subject forever.”
“Correct.”
She stepped forward again, this time with a great deal more trepidation. Smart girl. Standing on tiptoe once more, she looped her slender arms over his shoulders and tugged on his head, bringing it down toward her. Their lips met and an artillery barrage exploded inside his head, complete with blinding tracers and screaming explosions of incoming fire.
His arms swept around her and she moaned into his mouth, melting into him and over him until he didn’t know where he ended and she began. She tasted better than any woman had a right to and he drew her higher against his body as she invited him in with her entire being.
Their tongues clashed, quickly finding a rhythm that made his entire body throb with need. She gasped but never broke the contact. Her words might vow to push him away, but her hands urged him closer, pulling on the back of his neck urgently, drawing him down to her. And he had no will to resist. He picked her up completely off the ground, supporting her slight weight with ease. Her arms went fully around his neck then, her head slanting to give him even deeper access to her mouth, which he didn’t hesitate to exploit.
The lust that simmered beneath the surface all the time when he was around her broke loose, rolling over him until he gasped with the power of it. She must have felt it, too, for she surged against him with a cry in the back of her throat that owed nothing to piety and everything to unbridled desire. The urge to protect and possess that he’d fought ever since he met her reared up again. This was his woman, end of discussion. The only question was how long it would take her to admit it.
He backed her up, standing her on a small fallen log to compensate for their height difference and freeing his hands to roam over her delicious body, learning her. Marking her as his. Now, here was something he could do for the rest of his life. The idea galvanized him. Was it possible? Could he actually find someone who’d be willing to put up with him and his emotional baggage? Hope erupted in his chest.
But then Elise distracted him by shivering beneath his touch, so sensitive he reeled with the possibilities of how she’d react if there were no clothes between his palms and her skin. His hands slid under her sweater, but that awful dress of hers gave him no access to anything other than her bare arms. At least the fabric was thin enough for her heat to pass through it and hint at goose bumps puckering her delicate flesh.
She was as responsive as the finest musical instrument to his touch, a veritable symphony of tiny sounds escaping her throat as he stroked her to a fever pitch. The sweet smell of her wreathed them both, and he inhaled it with the same fierce possessiveness that he inhaled all of her. A single word echoed through his besotted brain. Mine.
She grew ever more soft and boneless against him, trembling so much with desire that he had to wrap his arms around her once more to steady her. She finally dragged her mouth away from his and buried her face against his neck, trembling. Her hair smelled like her, and he memorized the soft scent while she panted against him.
“Don’t say it,” she murmured, her mouth moving tantalizingly against his bare skin above his collar.
“Don’t say what?” He was surprised to hear how breathless he was, too.
“I told you so.”
He laughed silently. “Ready to admit you want me?”
He felt her sigh. “Fine. I want you.”
“And you’re not a nun.”
She pursed her lips stubbornly at that one, but the truth was easy to read in her eyes.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he murmured. “I can see it in your eyes, so why don’t you just admit it? I swear I mean you no harm.”
Another sigh, this one longer and more drawn out. “Fine. I’m not a nun.” But then she added in a rush, “You have to promise me you won’t tell anybody. Not a soul. I have to get Mia and Emanuel out of Colombia safely, and being a nun is the best and fa
stest way to do that. Their safety depends on you keeping the secret.”
“I already figured out that was why you were pretending to be a sister, and I haven’t given you away, yet.”
“Promise me you won’t tell.”
He put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up to his gently. “I promise.” He sealed the promise with a kiss. He intended for it to be a chaste thing, no more than an affirmation of his promise, but he should have known better. As soon as their mouths met again, this time without the thin veil of pretense that she wasn’t supposed to enjoy this, an entire battlefield of heat and fury ignited between them.
He tugged at the front of her dress, impatient with the frumpy garment. Fumbling hastily, she undid the buttons in a clumsy effort to save them from his assault. And then his hands were finally on her skin, skimming over her entirely immodest lace bra and tracing the indent of her tiny waist.
His mouth dropped to her bare shoulder. He followed the path of her collarbone to where it ended at her throat. He sipped at the hollow there as she threw her head back to give him full access. And then his mouth tracked lower, dipping into the valley between her breasts. His hands went behind her, lifting her, arching her into his mouth wantonly.
Her hands clutched at his short hair, pressing him closer while she urged him on with pants of pleasure. “Oh, yes. More. Right there. I’ve wanted you so much!”
He knew the feeling. As much as he’d love to carry her down to the forest floor and make love to her right now, she deserved better. She deserved satin sheets and rose petals, soft music and champagne. Reluctantly, he kissed his way back up the soft vulnerability of her neck to her mouth.
“I’ll never get enough of you,” he whispered against her lips.
“Then tell me something,” she murmured back between kisses. “Who are you?”
Elise felt Drago freeze against her. Retreat emotionally. Quickly and completely.
“Oh, come on, Drago. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. I’ve entrusted you with my big secret. You can share yours with me. Who are you and what are you really doing out here?”
“What do you mean?” he asked cautiously, standing upright and reaching out to button her dress.