by Dee Davis
Lara nodded, thinking that she was lucky to have had value. Otherwise, she’d be dead with the others at the clinic. Or it never would have been attacked at all, the little voice in her head taunted. The idea that Kim and the others were dead because of her was a frightening thought, one that she knew she ought not dwell on. But once it had surfaced, it was almost impossible to let go of the idea.
She trudged forward, her mind battling itself and the horrifying notion that she’d as good as killed her friend. Her choices had led to this day. Tears welled, and she fought against the wave of guilt as it wracked through her.
“Lara, don’t move.” Rafe’s voice was sharp and brought her to a full stop, her nerves screaming alert. “Not a muscle. You’ve just stepped on a land mine.”
“What?” The word came out a screech, her mind slamming back into the present, her stomach lurching with terror.
“I heard the click. If you lift your foot, we’re dead.”
“So, what? We stay here the rest of our lives?” It was a stupid retort, but she didn’t have the faculties to be any more insightful.
“If you can stay still, I might be able to dig it out and disarm it. But it’s important that you keep your weight on the plate beneath your foot.”
She stared downward, the grass waving around her knees. “I can’t see it.”
“Neither can I, but I definitely heard it. So just hang in there and let me do my thing.”
“You’ve done this before?” She wasn’t sure if it mattered one way or another really, but she needed to know anyway.
“Not in this kind of a situation, no. But I’ve worked a lot with ordnance removal over the years.” He’d already dropped to the ground and was carefully pushing his way closer to her foot. “I can do this. You’ve just got to have faith.”
“Not exactly the kind of thing a scientist likes to hear.” She offered a wan smile, although he couldn’t see it.
“It was just an expression, Lara. No worries.” For a moment, his Australian accent was crystal clear, and for some reason, the sound soothed her. “Just talk to me. Tell me stuff about you that I don’t know. Anything to keep your mind off what’s going on beneath your feet.”
She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her. “Okay. I’ll try. But my life really isn’t all that interesting.”
“What’s your favorite color?” he asked, his voice muffled by the grass.
“Blue. Most of the time. I like green, too. And yellow makes me happy.”
“An equal-opportunity colorist. Not a bad way to go. You watch sports?”
“Football,” she said. “My kind, not yours. I grew up in Montana so we didn’t have an official team, but Jason was nuts about the Cowboys. Dallas Cowboys. We always used to watch the games.”
“Well, soccer is the better sport, but I hear the Cowboys are pretty good.”
“Not so much lately. But they’ve had their moments for sure.” She tried to concentrate on the sound of his voice and the conversation, but it was difficult when she knew that just shifting her weight could blow them both to hell. “You don’t have to do this, you know. Maybe it would be better if you just left me here.”
“Not a chance in hell. We’re in this together, Lara. You and me. No way am I bailing on you. Now keep talking. What about baseball—you watch baseball?”
“Well, I confess I find it a little slow, but Jason loved it. Played Little League when he was a kid. And then started in high school. He wasn’t good enough for the majors, but he liked to watch the Rangers. Another Texas team. Jason was from Plano.”
“Okay, so I know what Jason loved, but what about you?” She could feel him carefully clearing the dirt from her feet, but the grass still partially blocked her view.
“I don’t know. I mean, I guess, I always thought we were doing our thing. But you’re right, at least with sports, it was all about Jason.” In fact, now that she thought about it, a lot of their life had revolved around Jason’s interests. She’d just never thought about it before. “But we did other things. Hanging out with our friends. And I taught classes.” She stopped, careful not to give away too much. Sunderland’s connection to the CIA wasn’t common knowledge, even in their circles, and she didn’t want to compromise her friends. “For a little while, at a community college.” It was only a little white lie, but she hated the fact that she wasn’t being honest. “Chemistry.” At least that much was true.
“Did you like teaching?”
“I did. I loved watching students grappling with a concept and then finally seeing comprehension dawn. It was rewarding in its own way, even if it was just a sideline for me.”
“Did you go on a lot of active missions when you were with the CIA?” he asked. Under any other circumstance, she would have considered the question leading, and she’d have suspected him of wanting information. But here, now, she knew he was only trying to distract her.
“Not that often. I worked with the team from the safety of home most of the time, providing remote assistance, although sometimes I was needed in the field. When someone was hurt or when the operation required my unique expertise.”
“Biochemical weapons, you mean.”
“Yes. But fortunately we’ve only had a few situations where they were involved, and I had a colleague who was also an expert. So recently, at least, there’s been two of us to handle any situation that arises.”
She could hear the sound of metal against metal, and despite her attempt to maintain control, she flinched. “Careful,” he cautioned. “You’ve got to stay still.”
“I’m trying,” she said, forcing herself to take slow, calming breaths. How many times had she counseled patients exactly the same? It was much harder on this side of the equation.
“I know. Just hang in there. I’ve almost got the thing uncovered. Any sign of activity?”
She looked across the clearing, letting her gaze move slowly around the perimeter of the field. “I don’t see anything. But that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear. If they are out there, they’ll be moving carefully.”
“Still, it’s a good sign,” he said, his tone not quite matching his words. But he was trying; she had to give him that. “Just keep an eye out.”
“Any idea why this field would be mined?” she asked, still watching the edges of the jungle. “I mean, it feels as if we’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“Hard to say for sure,” Rafe replied. She could feel his hands as he continued to clear the dirt from around the bomb. “Maybe as a warning, or maybe there’s a stronghold near here. They certainly seem to have encampments in the area. You said they were holding you in one, right?”
“Yes, but we’ve come a good ways from there. I just wondered what was special about here.”
“I suspect there are mines in the jungle as well, but we were staying well off the marked paths, and they’re the most likely places for placing bombs. The truth is that most places there’s rebellion and fighting, there are mines. That’s why disarming them is a number one priority for entities like the United Nations.”
“Well, at least we’re doing our part in the dismantling,” she quipped, her voice not as steady as she’d have liked.
“It’s going to be okay,” Rafe said, sounding distracted as he concentrated on the mechanism beneath her foot. “I think I’ve got it exposed now. So all I need is for you to hold still while I try to get at the wiring.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” She blew out a slow breath, her eyes halting on the jungle just off to her left. She could have sworn something had moved. She waited a minute, straining to see beyond the line of trees. But there was nothing more—no discernable movement at all.
“You’ve gotten quiet,” he said, his voice tightening with concern. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her through the grass. “I just thought I might have seen something moving. But I guess it was a trick of the light.”
“Well, keep an
eye on the spot. And keep talking. I’m almost there. You still haven’t told me what you like to do. Besides scientific research, I mean.”
“I don’t know,” she said with a frown. “I like old television shows.”
“Like ER or Grey’s Anatomy?”
“No. Older and definitely not medical. Like I Love Lucy and Dick Van Dyke. I Netflix them. Kind of lame, I guess.”
“Not really. I’ve been known to tune into Andy Griffith from time to time. What else?”
“I like gardening, and I can sort of cook Chinese. Another friend from college taught me how to use a wok.”
“Well, once we’re out of this, you’ll have to make me dinner. I’ve always been a fan of teriyaki.”
“That’s Japanese.”
“I know, but a wok’s a wok, right?”
“Something like that. But I’m afraid my skills run more toward fried rice or sweet-and-sour pork. How much longer?” she asked, her knee starting to tremble slightly from the tension of holding so still.
“Not sure. But not too much more. I’ve got the compartment open. Now I’ve just got to figure out the right wire.”
“Maybe you should just pull them all?” she suggested.
“Not a good idea. One of them could have been installed as a secondary trigger.”
“Now there’s a positive thought. But you’ll know the right wire when you see it?”
“I’ll know enough to make an educated guess.”
The trembling had gotten worse. “Well, I think now would be a good time to figure it out. My leg is starting to shake.”
“Okay. Hold still.” He paused, and she could feel him working beneath her. There was a soft noise as he clipped the wire and then—nothing. “It’s okay to move now. I got it,” he said, pushing to his feet.
Relief washed through her, and she released the breath she’d been holding and stepped off the mine. The sound of the insects in the grass seemed abnormally sweet all of a sudden. They stood for a moment, their gazes locked, and then he closed the distance between them, his arms circling her waist as he pulled her to him. For a moment, they simply held the embrace, body to body, heart to heart, and then with a low groan, he slanted his mouth over hers, the kiss hard and possessive. She responded in kind, opening to him, enjoying the feel of his lips and the sweet, salty taste of his tongue as he probed deeply, thrusting and parrying, the two of them relishing the simple joy of being alive.
He cupped her bottom and lifted her upward until she stood on tiptoe, giving as good as she got, her palms flattened against the sun-warmed cotton of his shirt. Somewhere deep inside, she knew that they needed to get moving, but she was incapable of pulling away, wanting nothing more than to stand here in this meadow, kissing him as if there were no tomorrow.
She pressed herself closer, letting the smell of him surround her. Almost a tangible thing, it caressed her senses, leaving her reeling. His hand found her breast through her shirt, his fingers kneading, massaging, leaving her quivering for more.
She tipped back her head, and his lips traced hot fire down her neck, his fingers slipping inside her camisole now, his callused thumb teasing her nipple. White heat shot through her, and like before, she wanted him with an urgency she couldn’t explain. It was more than need, more than hunger. It was deeper somehow. Binding. The intensity should have scared her, but it didn’t.
Instead, she found his lips with hers, her fingers stroking his back. He groaned again, his hands needy, his kiss possessive as he swung her up into his arms, already striding back to the shack.
The still-cognizant part of her brain knew that they needed to go, that there was safety in the jungle, but her need for him was stronger, and so she pushed it all aside, giving over to the kiss and the feel of his arms around her. The porch creaked beneath his boots as he climbed the steps and pushed open the door.
Once inside, he let her go, her body sliding against his as she dropped to her feet, the friction sending heat rippling through her. He pushed the shirt off her shoulders, his mouth tracing the line of her throat and shoulders, his hand cupping the throbbing heat between her legs through the thin cotton barrier of her pants. His touch made her ache, and she closed her eyes, letting the sensation surround her.
For the first time since Jason died, she felt a flutter of promise, of something new and potentially wonderful. And then almost before she could process the thought, the door behind them slammed against the wall and she heard the sounds of guns being cocked and leveled. Horrified, Lara turned in his arms to see a ring of rebels surrounding them, machine guns at the ready.
There was silence as their adversaries assessed the situation, and then Rafe released her, stepping away, his expression slipping into a smile. “I wondered how long it would take you to catch up to us,” he said, holding out a hand to a man dressed in camouflage. “I told you I’d find her.”
She struggled to right her clothing, feeling as if the world had tilted and she’d fallen down the rabbit hole.
“Yes, but I didn’t expect you to romance her,” the man said, his teeth white against his dark skin. Lara shivered, recognizing his voice from the clinic.
Confusion flooded through her as she watched the two men greet each other as long lost friends. “You set me up?” she whispered, her gaze colliding with Rafe’s.
“What can I say?” He waved a hand through the air as if dismissing her despair. “I told you once that I always go where the money is. And at the moment, that means Mumbaro and his crew. When I heard you’d managed to escape, I convinced them that I’d be able to get you back with minimum bloodshed.”
“So that’s why you didn’t kill the boy by the truck,” she said, her mind still spinning. “I thought you were being compassionate, but you were on his side all along.”
“I’m on my side, sweetheart. It’s the only one that counts. Anyway, I couldn’t be sure which team he was playing for.” He shot an apologetic look at his friend. “So I figured it was better to take you to Mumbaro myself.”
“So you seduced me on purpose?” The horror of her predicament paled in comparison to the fact that she’d allowed herself to care for a man who clearly felt nothing at all for her.
“No. That was pure pleasure.” He grinned, the emotion not quite reaching his eyes. “But I’ll admit I capitalized on it to get you to trust me.”
A second man, this one not much more than a kid, turned Lara around and began to bind her hands behind her, but her attention was still locked on Rafe. “So was there even a bomb? Or was that just a ploy to buy time for your buddies here?”
For a moment something filled his eyes, but just as quickly it was gone, his expression unreadable as he returned her glare. “It worked.”
“And to think I actually believed…” She cut off the words before the thought had fully formed. She’d be damned if she’d admit how much she’d bought into his little farce, how close she’d come to believing he was offering her a second chance at love. She’d been a fool, and now she’d be paying the price.
“Never trust a mercenary.” He shrugged. “It’ll bite you in the ass every time.”
Chapter 6
She was back in captivity. It was a different camp, this one with buildings as well as tents. Best Lara could tell, she was in a cellar, hands tied above her head with a rope, suspended from a beam that ran the length of the room. The stone walls were covered with moss, the moist air filled with the sickly sweet smell of mildew.
She had struggled to get down, but nothing was working. She was well and truly stuck. And it was all thanks to one man—Rafe Winters. He’d betrayed her in the worst possible way. He’d made her believe in him and the possibility that maybe they had a future together.
What a crock. Instead she’d fallen into a trap older than time. Man seduces woman, and she falls for it—lock, stock, and barrel. She closed her eyes, trying not to think about what might be coming next. She’d heard Rafe and the man called Mumbaro talking about auctioning her off to the high
est bidder. At first she’d thought they were talking about the sex trade. But Rafe had soon made it clear that this was something far more nefarious. Her original thoughts had been right. They were selling her as an ex–CIA agent, her value related to what and who she knew.
If her buyers managed to break her—and she had no doubt that eventually they would—she’d not only put her colleagues at A-Tac at risk, she’d quite possibly undermine a large part of the U.S. espionage system. She knew she could hold out for a long time, but in today’s world of terrorist networks, she was certain that eventually they’d find the right combination of torture and drugs.
She blew out a long breath, fighting against the rising panic that threatened to swamp her. It wouldn’t do any good to lose it now. The only chance she had was to figure out a way to escape before any kind of transaction could be made. But so far she hadn’t seen anyone, or heard anything.
She tried to think of what Jason would do, wishing like hell he were here to advise her. But Jason was gone. She was on her own, and it was time to stand on her own two feet—the operative part of the sentence being somewhat impossible with her toes barely touching the ground. She swallowed a bitter laugh, thinking that she’d come a long way from the woman who’d first arrived in Africa.
She’d wanted to help the sick and downtrodden, and instead, she’d wound up fighting for her own life. Damn Rafe Winters. He’d tapped into the part of her that she’d walled off after Jason’s death, coaxed her into believing she could have love again, and then he’d taken her fragile trust and crushed it. Hell, maybe it would have been better to have died at the clinic.
But even as she had the thought, she knew she didn’t mean it. No matter what had happened, she was a fighter. When she’d lost Jason, she’d wanted to crawl in a hole and die, but instead, she’d risen to a new challenge and come to Africa. And she’d survived that, too. Things might seem hopeless but she’d be damned if she was going to fold now.