When she saw him, she stood and approached. She bit her lip and pulled at the ends of her flyaway hair, as she always did when she was nervous. “Do you have Trista?”
“Yes.” He nodded and lowered his voice. “Are you packed?”
She shook her head and played with her hair again. “Trista needs to leave. A soldier came down and wanted to know who was last seen with the two fighters gathering goods for the compound. Marcus, an idiot from the bar, ratted her out. Is she okay? Did they hurt her?”
“She’s fine, hiding outside the village. Listen carefully. Trista’s only a memory from now on. The woman traveling with me is my wife. Her name is Eve O’Brien.”
The tightly wound muscles around Jenny’s shoulders relaxed. Her eyes shut for a few seconds, and then she sat back down at the table. “You named her after Mom?”
“I didn’t have a lot of time to think of something original.”
“That’s good. It’s a fitting tribute to her.” She took a sip of tea. “Is Trista— I mean Eve really okay.”
“She’s fine.” His sister was stalling. Damn it all. “Get your things. We need to leave. Now.”
Jenny placed a hand on her cup and shook her head. “I’m not going. I can’t abandon these kids.”
The presence of the children did make him pause. Was she really the only person they could rely on?
“You have to leave,” he whispered, although the kids probably didn’t understand English. “She killed two men. They’ll retaliate. They have to.”
“She killed them?” Jenny paused at the news, but within a heartbeat she shook her head. “Go. Take her to safety. I’ll be fine.”
A chill cascaded from Dane’s neck down his back, and an urge to strangle his little sister took over his hands. The danger was more than real. It was living a few miles away in a mountain fortress. He hit them together a few times and then fisted them by his side. “Jenny, be reasonable. You’ll be at risk if you stay. You’re the sole American in the village. The fighters will want blood, and I don’t want them to have yours.”
“I’m not leaving. The women in the village won’t take care of the orphans. They can barely take care of their own families. If I leave, the schoolhouse will most likely be looted and the children will be at risk from the Red Hawks. I’ll leave soon, but I need to hold the fort a little while longer, until the relief organization can send a group to make sure the children have protection. I’ve been through worse. Remember the time the mission group I assisted in China were all arrested for handing out prohibited materials? I was fine. Go back to your cushy little job in California, Dane. You and your fancy cars and big house. I want my life to mean more than that.”
Jenny, the philosopher. She had no idea how many times he’d used his contacts to protect her from the insane situations she’d placed herself in. She probably thought she’d singlehandedly negotiated her release from prison in Beijing. It was growing old.
“Will you ever be reasonable?” He swallowed the frustration of watching his closest relative risk her safety. The stubborn expression on her face threatened to send his blood pressure into the red zone, so he pivoted away from her and paced across the floor to pull himself together. If he exploded, someone would end up hurt. Someone always got hurt when his temper flared. And he’d rip his own heart out before harming Jenny.
“I am being reasonable. You’re the one who isn’t thinking straight. My friend is in danger, and it’s becoming dark soon. You need to leave. Don’t worry, big brother. I’ll be fine.”
“Shit. Bring the kids, all of them. Let’s go.”
“No. That’s not practical, and you know it.”
She’d fight him to the end. He’d let her win for now. Trista was his more immediate concern. He’d have to come back for Jenny later.
“Maintain a low profile and take precautions. And keep your phone charged. If I call and I can’t reach you, I’m coming back.”
“Go.” She pointed to the door.
His heart tightened. He hugged her close. “Please be careful.”
“I promise not to take any unnecessary risks. Drive safely.” She released him, but squeezed his hand before letting go completely.
The boys approached her. So young to be orphans. She placed her arms around them and pulled them into a hug. He was her guardian, but she was a guardian as well. He hated it, but he understood.
Chapter Four
Trista swatted away the millions of mosquitos that seemed attracted by insect repellent and pushed herself through the thick vegetation. Her mind returned over and over to Dane and the kiss. One hell of a kiss. The pathetic part of her amplified reaction to Dane’s kiss was the fact that he didn’t kiss her in a deep and sensuous moment. Nope. The kiss had more to do with playing a part. How completely not romantic.
Grow up, Trista.
The sun was almost down, making her hideaway better for staying out of sight, but less comfortable. A vine brushed her face, and her hand shot up to bat it away.
Where would she go now that her assignment had been prematurely terminated? She needed to get in touch with David, her contact at the ICPF. Perhaps she could be placed in Uganda again. Dane had mentioned traveling to London. That would be a perfect launching place to get to Africa.
She slowed her steps. How could she go to London if she had to maintain her new identity? Her passport was under her bed in the schoolhouse. Maybe Dane would pick it up for her.
She heard a car before she saw it. The familiar SUV rumbled along and stopped next to the distance marker pointing to various locations all over Columbia. Dane was driving, but Jenny wasn’t with him. She hadn’t expected to see her, despite Dane’s plans to the contrary. Jenny wasn’t the type to run from responsibility, and they’d shared an obligation to take care of a room full of children. Thank God one of them could stay and help them.
Her mind wandered to Natalia. Hopefully she’d be okay. If the rebels came again, Jenny would need to keep her hidden. Natalia was too pretty for her own good. And so smart. What if her future had died when the bullet hit her father?
Dane leaned out the window and waved. “Need a lift?”
“Very funny.” She sat in the SUV and had barely shut the door before he started moving. “Where’s Jenny?”
“She’s decided the life of a teacher is preferable to being safe.” Tension tightened the muscles in his neck. He obviously didn’t agree with Jenny’s decision.
“She should be fine. Without her, the orphans would be at a serious risk of being recruited to the Red Hawks as runners and cooks, and the girls would fare even worse. I’m glad she’s there for them.”
Dane didn’t answer. He watched the road and clenched his jaw. He obviously loved his sister. Now, he was stuck taking a long drive back to Bogotá with a fugitive. Guilt filled up her chest as she realized that her actions were keeping brother and sister apart.
Closing her eyes for a minute, she dreamed of her last vacation, full of warm Costa Rican beaches and surfers with long, lean bodies and eyes that scalded her skin when focused on her alone. Golden brown eyes with a sparkle of humor. She winced. Dane needed to get the heck out of her thoughts. He was overwhelming enough in person. Several miles later, sleep finally arrived.
A bump in the road helped rip her from her nap. She opened her eyes. The moon was hovering above them in a night sky. The fading light of the sunset she’d seen before closing her eyes now a distant memory. Not so much a nap, then, as a slumber.
She lifted her arms over her head and stretched her back muscles.
The dashboard lights glowed enough to reveal a handsome driver who didn’t appear tired at all.
“How long was I out?”
He maneuvered around a hole in the road. “A few hours. You needed the sleep.”
True. Her mind and body did feel more alert and alive. The overwhelming loss of the past few days crashed into her head. She shook the negativity off. She needed to make plans. She’d never let life beat her down, so
this was a forced opportunity. With a bit more information, she’d know her options. “So now what?”
“My first worry for this morning is finding breakfast with my beautiful bride.” He winked one of those heart melting eyes in her direction.
“Sadly, we’re no longer married,” she volleyed back with some sass and a side of sarcasm. “And I can’t officially call it morning until the sun rises.”
“I consider morning anytime after midnight.” He unkinked his neck. “And we’re legally married in the state of California. I should have the marriage certificate faxed to us by the time we reach Bogotá.”
“What?”
“I told you this alibi had to stick. While I was in the village, I asked a few contacts in California to update our credentials. We’ve been married for three months, according to the San Francisco County Clerk.”
“You illegally altered records in California? How?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. It’s only for a few weeks, until I can feel out whether Juan Carlos is a vindictive SOB or a man who can forget about the dead men and move on to a more profitable use of his energy and resources.”
A few weeks? That would give her time to arrange for her next assignment. “Am I still going to London?”
“It would keep our story cohesive until we figure out what influence Juan Carlos has in the international drug trade.”
She nodded. That would work for her. “Fine. I’ll play your adoring wife for a little while in England. I have a few contacts there. They can help me out.”
His smile faded. “That won’t work. You have to remain away from any part of your past for a few weeks. Seriously. By tomorrow, we need everything we told him to be true. I also have a deal brewing with him, and that needs to proceed smoothly.”
“You sold him something from your company? I don’t believe it.” The motto “Do anything for a sale” must be tattooed on his arm. She shook her head to rid herself of the image of his well-defined bicep.
“Believe it. It helped us drive out of there. He has to think I’ll send him what I promised. Once we’re in Europe, I can back out of any deal I tentatively made with him with certain assurances that we may do business in the future.”
“Can’t you just run away and never go there again?”
“Not with Jenny still here.”
“You’re the most loyal brother I’ve ever met. My siblings wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep if I was gunned down by rebels.”
“Nice family you have.”
She shrugged. “My mom and dad are pretty okay on the parent scale. Their children? Let’s just say they’re self-involved. If something doesn’t benefit them personally, they’re generally against it.”
“Sounds like a warm bunch.”
“Most war zones contain more allies for me than home does, although I return enough to placate my parents.”
Dane raised an eyebrow. “I’d hate to eat Thanksgiving dinner with a crew like that.”
“Two crews, actually. My parents divorced when I was eight. They both created more perfect unions with new spouses. So all offspring consider me an interloper.”
And although she returned to see everyone occasionally, she preferred time with the kids she tried to save. They were her real family.
…
After another day driving, they arrived at a hotel a few hours outside of Bogotá. Dane escorted a very tired Trista into their room as Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien. Mrs. O’Brien was looking particularly beautiful, but not too made up. Perfect for a passport photo. He pulled out his phone and, with some effort, guided her next to the wall in their room. “Don’t smile.”
“What are you doing?” She pulled free and walked back to the window.
“Taking your picture, obviously. I need something with a white background.”
She turned toward him with a slow, deliberate movement. The fading sunlight outside the room threw shadows across her face. This might get tricky, trying to explain how he could obtain a passport, although he had a decent lie that might work.
“Why?” she asked, her brows lifted. Damn, she was sexy. Then her expression darkened. She knew exactly why he needed a photo with a white background. “Where’s my passport?”
“I have no idea.”
“You didn’t bring it with you?”
“Why would I bring something with your old identity on it?”
She clenched her hand into a fist and seemed to be holding it back from punching something. “Because I’ll need my old identity to get on a plane and eventually continue my old life.”
Shit. This was not going to go well. “You’re leaving the country as Eveleen O’Brien, my wife.”
“And when I get to London?”
“Why don’t we get there first and then talk about it?” He flashed her his best smile, the one that usually netted him phone numbers from the opposite sex at clubs.
Instead, an icy chill swirled around the room. He needed to work on convincing her that he had her best interest at heart. Why the hell couldn’t she be a damsel in distress instead of a lone ranger?
“I’m not going without my passport. I’ll slip back into camp tomorrow and get it. I refuse to travel on an illegal passport. I’ll be arrested if it doesn’t look authentic.”
“I guarantee it’ll work.” He clasped her arm again and led her to the wall.
She complied, but stood with her arms crossed, glaring at him. “You guarantee a fake passport will pass through security? You’re either delusional or criminal.”
“Neither. I have a friend in the State Department. I helped him out once, and he owes me. It’ll be official. Come on, I need a photo.”
She scowled until he lowered his phone.
He waited patiently until she rolled her eyes one final time. Then she straightened and held her head up so he could take the pictures. A few of them were unsuitable for a passport photo, but he’d keep them on his phone indefinitely to remind him of this beautiful woman who had lived through a nightmare.
Six snaps later, her state of distress had diminished into something more like resignation, and he had something resembling a decent passport photo of his adorably fictional wife.
“Am I excused now?” She disappeared into the bathroom without waiting for his response. An hour later, she emerged, showered and dressed in one of his shirts. The dampness of her body kept the material glued to her skin and showed him every sensual part of her. Not magazine cover beautiful—this woman was real, with a figure made to drive men crazy.
She hopped on the bed to watch the local news. “Can we order room service?”
“Sure. What do you want?”
“Arroz con pollo and something to drink with a kick,” she said.
Did she have any idea of how amazing her legs appeared stretched across the bed?
“Okay. You chose the meal. I’ll choose the drink.”
He called down, and thirty minutes later, he’d showered and dressed in a T-shirt and boxer shorts, and was sitting on the bed, eating chicken and rice and drinking Aguardiente “Firewater.”
“I’m sorry I took you away from your visit with Jenny, but once the ICPF arrives, things in the village will relax. The Red Hawks stay away from the village when the team arrives with new supplies. Maybe she can visit you in San Francisco.”
“Don’t remind me of my stubborn ass sister. She should have come with us.”
Trista fell back onto the bed. “Let’s play a game to get your mind off your sister and mine off everything else. Every time they mention a murder on the news, you have to drink a shot.”
“I’m not sure you can handle this. It’s pretty potent.”
“Bring it on, Mr. O’Brien. We’ll see who’s still standing.”
After a half hour, the bottle was gone, but Dane had limited his intake to three shots to keep alert for uninvited guests. Trista, however, was sprawled out on her stomach. His shirt had lifted up, exposing a pierced bellybutton. Red silk underwear covered her ass. And damn,
what a perfect ass.
“Still hungry?” he asked.
She sat up and snuggled next to him. “Starved.”
Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she leaned over to kiss him. The shirt was a few buttons too open, revealing full breasts with nipples that should be sucked and obsessed over.
He pulled away, although his body didn’t want to. Every part of him burned for her—a lust so strong, that if he didn’t have her now, he’d have to find a way to sleep in the car, away from her curves and tempting invitation.
“Do I frighten you, city boy?” Trista was causing major chaos to his psyche, but it had more to do with trying to remain a gentleman than fear of a sex goddess.
“You terrify me.”
She smiled. “I doubt that. I bet you have a hundred women waiting for you all over the world.”
“Not one as pretty as you.”
“And yet, you’re avoiding me.”
This time her laughter, low and sensual, sent him into high alert. He shifted away from her so she wouldn’t notice his erection growing at a far too rapid rate. In her mood, she’d want to help him relieve the strain.
“You’ve been through hell, and I don’t want to take advantage.”
“Maybe that’s why I need you. To rid my mind of all the blood.” Her hands touched his arms, and her head rested against his chest.
He held her for a few minutes, absorbing as much of her pain as he could. She’d gunned down two men, been ripped from her job and temporary home, and was stuck with him, a virtual stranger. When those seductive eyes lifted to his, he was a goner. His mouth descended on her zinfandel lips.
She’d endured so much. How could he deny her some compassion after a long day of battle? He couldn’t. In the end, she was stretched out beside him, completely wrapped in his arms. And he was completely caught up in her. Her breasts, round and firm and all woman, rubbed against him as their kisses became deeper and more frenzied.
“Scared?” Her body extended across the length of the bed was the most erotic invitation he’d ever received. “I can guide you through this if you’re unsure what to do.”
True Peril Page 4