The Echo of Violence

by Jordan Dane

  On the surface, Kinkaid would have appeared angry and sullen, but she knew exhaustion fueled his distant mood. And his unrelenting fever hadn’t helped.

  “I’m taking first watch. No arguments,” she whispered, having no intention of waking him to spell her. The guy needed sleep. “When was the last time you took your meds?”

  “I’m good,” he said. When she was done playing nurse, he lay back and stared into the night sky with an arm under his head. “And…thanks.”

  Instead of rolling over and going to sleep, he turned toward her, and she caught a glint of light in those green eyes of his. Jackson Kinkaid always had an effect on her, but in the dead calm of night, his low voice and quiet gentle ways made her forget the usual rift between them. It made her wish that they’d never met on the job. Things might have turned out differently if they had been introduced in a less complicated way, as just a man and woman.

  “You didn’t have to come with me,” he began. When things got personal, men often chose a convoluted way to say what they really meant. Kinkaid was no different.

  “You’re welcome.” She forced a weary grin and stretched out next to him on her sleeping bag. Braced on an elbow, she looked down at him. “You could barely stand, hotshot. I’m just returning the favor.”

  She pretended to adjust his arm bandage, wanting an excuse to touch him. “You got those hostages out on your own,” she added. “Very impressive.”

  “I thought you were long gone,” he said. “Or maybe you were watching to see if I got my ass kicked.”

  She saw him flinch with a smile. With Kinkaid it was hard to detect the difference between amusement and outright hostility.

  “Depending on who was doing the kicking”—she grinned—“I might pay top dollar for a ringside seat.” She told him about the tracking beacon that she’d stowed in his gear.

  “You stuck a tracking beacon on me?”

  “Yeah. I wanted you easy to find for a rescue mission after we got the hostages,” she admitted. “It’s still in your gear. In the bag where you stow your iPod. I figured you’d never leave that behind. The beacon made it easy to find Waldo.”

  Kinkaid only shook his head, and they fell into a comfortable silence. Since the mission had started, they had not been alone much to talk. She felt the distance between them, but the rescue was the main objective, and she’d let it go. Now they had a quiet moment together, and she didn’t want to waste it—even if she ticked him off.

  “What happened to you?” she asked.

  The sudden shift in topic took him by surprise as she had hoped. His faint amusement was gone, replaced by definite hostility. In truth, his shift in gears turned her on. He had an edge that scared her—and she liked it.

  “Rumor has it that you work for South American drug cartels. You go wherever the money is best. When we worked together before…”

  “That was a long time ago, Alexa. Ancient history.” He narrowed his eyes and pulled the boonie hat off her head and ran his fingers through her hair. If he was trying to distract her, the man had hit the bull’s-eye dead center.

  “We all have choices in how we live our lives. I thought you were one of the good guys.” She reached for his hand and stopped him from toying with her hair. Taking his hand in both of hers, she entwined her fingers with his. “Working for the highest bidder doesn’t strike me as your kind of gig, especially drug cartels, Jackson. That’s why I gotta know. What happened to you? What made you change?”

  “Whatever you think you know…you don’t.” He stared into the dark and heaved a deep sigh. “It’s complicated. And I’m working things out…my way.”

  “It’s just that I’m worried…”

  “I know you are,” he interrupted. “I can see that, but let it go.”

  Kinkaid had changed. She saw it in everything he did. He’d lost the peaks to his valleys and was content to drift through life like a ghost, unfettered by real emotion…even joy. She rested her hand on his arm. The intimacy felt natural between them, and he didn’t object. The feel of his hard muscles brought a new rush of heat to her cheeks. And when he fixed a languid gaze on her, she forgot to breathe. Heat radiated off his skin, and she felt a primal urgency take hold. From the hunger in his eyes, she knew he had the same urges.

  She didn’t have to wait to find out.

  He trailed a finger down her cheek and neck. And with his touch, she closed her eyes, and a suggestive gasp escaped her lips. Grasping the back of her neck, he pulled her to his chest and explored her mouth with his warm, wet tongue. Her nipples reacted to the feel of his hard body through her damp T-shirt. She straddled his leg and felt the rush of desire as adrenaline surged through her.

  She knew this was wrong. This wasn’t the time or the place to give in to the craving she felt for Kinkaid, but her tongue had a mind of its own. She pictured unzipping him and taking what she wanted. His low groans of breathy intimacy sent a message that he wouldn’t protest.

  But a second later, they both stopped and locked gazes as if they were reading each other’s minds.

  “Wait a minute,” she gasped.

  “We can’t do this,” he said in unison.

  “I said it first.” She brushed back her blond hair and rolled off his chest. It took a moment for her to regain control.

  What had happened with Kinkaid left her stumped. She understood the physical need, and the chemistry had always been there between them, but his feelings for Kate confused her. It was obvious he had strong feelings for the woman, enough to risk his life for her. Yet he’d just kissed another woman as if he meant it. His sudden display of sexual need made her wonder. Was Kate the real deal for him, relegating her to play the role of a handy “friend with benefits”?

  And since when did that bother her?

  She understood the need for a man to release sexual tension, and normally she’d be happy to oblige, but being around Kinkaid on this mission had messed her up, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it had started when she questioned her motives for wanting to play “tonsil hockey” with Seth Harper.

  What the hell’s happening to me?

  “I have to ask you something.” She fought to steady her breathing. “Don’t shoot me, okay?”

  “I wouldn’t shoot you, Alexa.” Without a smile, he shrugged. “At least not here. Too loud.”

  “Tell me about Kate. What’s she to you?” When he looked as if he would object, she reasoned, “I’m risking my neck for her. You owe me an explanation.”

  “You’re risking your life because it’s the right thing to do,” he argued. Anger flared in his eyes. “What’s between me and Kate shouldn’t matter. And it’s none of your business. Wake me for my watch.”

  With effort and a groan, he rolled over and turned his back on her, leaving her with pent-up sexual tension and unanswered questions. She grabbed her weapon and found a spot to stand watch. Kinkaid’s feelings for Kate mattered to her. She wasn’t sure why—but they did. He mattered to her.

  And that left her wondering—what the hell was wrong with her?

  Beyond the canyon, Abdul Kabir Sayed crouched in the dirt and glared into the dark heavens, unable to sleep. He was still seething from what had happened. Only four of his men had survived the attack on the terrorist camp. And they had left gear and supplies behind. His handler would have to provide him a name, someone local who could give him safe haven and replenish what he had lost.

  After the humiliation he had suffered, that would not be easy.

  The other men from the camp had scrambled into the hills like cockroaches scurrying for cover. They distanced themselves from him, knowing the attack had been his doing. He’d brought trouble to their village, and word would travel. He would be blamed unless he could turn the insulting incident to his advantage.

  At least he still had the woman.

  He stared at her now. His men had bound her hands and feet tightly and hung her from a sturdy tree branch with her feet dangling as punishment for her part. The weight of h
er body would cause the ropes to burn and cut into her skin. And breathing would be difficult, especially with the gag stuffed in her mouth. He heard her pathetic gasps for air, and her struggle for survival grated on his nerves like the incessant whine of an insect buzzing at his ear. She would pay for what had happened. All that remained was for him to decide how.

  To redeem his name, she would be made an example. And the world would soon know his purpose.

  Sayed had not expected to be attacked in Cuba, a country that allowed him to operate in anonymity and train his newest recruits. His men had been careless, and some had paid the price for their mistake. Their deaths had saved him the trouble of killing them himself. And given what he’d learned tonight, he now knew that he’d been followed from Haiti—and by a man that the white woman claimed not to know well.

  Jackson Kinkaid.

  She had lied to him. LIED…to him!

  He ground a fist into the dirt beneath him, barely aware that his knuckles stung and were bleeding. After the attack, the voice of Kinkaid calling her name had echoed in the canyon and taunted him. In shock and anger, he had turned toward the white woman as they fled the explosions. He saw in her eyes that she recognized the man’s voice even though she’d tried to hide her reaction.

  She knew Jackson Kinkaid better than she had admitted. The wealthy American had come to save her, and that would not have been the case if they were merely acquaintances. And an even greater insult, the rescue of the other hostages by Kinkaid and his men would be blamed on him. Those who envied his sudden rise in power would seek to undermine his authority, but since he still had the white woman, perhaps he could redeem himself. He still held the most valuable hostage, a woman this American hero had risked his life to save.

  Only a weak man would do such a thing for a mere woman.

  And Sayed vowed to use Kinkaid’s weakness against him. He did not understand how a woman’s life had value, not even if the woman had the honor of giving birth to him. A woman would always be made to serve men in that way. It was their purpose in life. But if Jackson Kinkaid valued this woman enough to come for her once, he would do it again. And this time the American would face him, not skulk like a coward in the dark.

  Kinkaid and this woman would pay for what they had done to him—and the world would witness his triumph.

  He stood and walked toward her. With eyes wide, she trembled and shook her head as he came closer. Useless tears streaked her battered face. She was a stupid woman. Insignificant. And her fear only made him stronger. It fed his need to lash out and quenched the thirst of his rage. She pulled at the ropes, and her body swung in and out of shadows. Blood from her wrists trickled down her arms. The dark streak marked her pale skin. He took his knife from its sheath and let the blade catch the moonlight, enough for her to see what would come.

  He would not wait until morning to inflict his punishment.

  CHAPTER 17

  Southeast Cuba

  Dawn cut the dark horizon with a jagged edge of steel gray. Yet even under a mantle of darkness, the jungle came alive. Animals foraged for food, and birds stirred in the branches over Alexa’s head. The world had its own clock, its natural order. Even the humidity had tapered off enough for her to notice.

  She watched Kinkaid sleep. His bare chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm now, but rest had not come easy. She heard him toss and turn during the few hours he had to sleep until he retrieved his iPod from his gear. The volume was too low for her to hear what he played, but as soon as he plugged the sound into his ears, he settled into a deep sleep where he barely moved.

  Jackson Kinkaid was like an engaging foreign flick, only he didn’t come with subtitles. What she saw in him made her yearn to know more, but without a deeper understanding, she knew she was missing something major. Some men were open books and easy to read.

  A guy like Kinkaid would never be.

  “Damn it,” he grumbled as he rolled to one side and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “You needed your beauty sleep way more than I did,” she smirked. “And from where I’m sitting, you still do.”

  “More snooze time won’t fix what’s wrong with me.” He curled a lip into a half smile. “And your looks don’t need improving.”

  “And here I thought your idea of foreplay was a rousing argument,” she countered. “Don’t play nice, Kinkaid. I won’t know how to act.”

  She covered her reaction to his compliment with attitude, but in the quiet of morning, his deep voice had raised goose bumps across her skin. His voice had the warm bite of a fine Cognac—sweet, potent, and addictive. And the charm of his flattery took her by surprise, especially given how abrasive he’d been through their mission. She did her best to ignore what he’d said, but inside she was smiling.

  “Today we gotta make up time,” she said. “I smell rain. We can’t let the trail get cold, or we’ll lose them. You better be up for this.”

  She ignored the shadows under his eyes and the fevered look of his skin. And she did her best to overlook the sluggish way he got off his bedroll. Giving him a hard time for pushing himself would do little good now. Neither of them could do anything about it. She had to press him for all he had left. Anything less would jeopardize them both.

  Kinkaid was getting worse. She knew it and suspected he did, too.

  “How are you doing on meds?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “I’m good.” His stock answer.

  Kinkaid wouldn’t have told her otherwise. As he gathered his gear, she remembered hearing him take pills last night. Judging by the soft rattle of an almost depleted bottle, she knew he was running on empty—in more ways than one. As an operative, she understood what Kinkaid needed. He wouldn’t respond well to coddling or a nursemaid, not when he had a personal stake in the mission. The best medicine would be to keep him focused and on track.

  What they both needed was to rescue Kate as soon as possible. She hoped that when they found her, it wouldn’t be too late for Kinkaid.

  New York City

  Sentinels Headquarters

  Hours later

  “Jessie.” When Seth saw her at his dormitory door, he grinned and his face lit up as if he’d flipped an internal switch. “Tanya busted me loose. I’m confined to this facility until someone escorts me back to Alexa’s place, but no more locked doors. Check it out.”

  He closed the door behind her and opened it again to prove his point with a wave of his arm, acting like a magician with a new trick.

  “You’re easy to amuse.” She smiled. “When are you leaving?”

  “I’m not. Not until I know Alexa is safe.” The mischievous glint in his dark eyes vanished when his expression grew somber. “I want to be here in case they need me.”

  Jess was relieved to know he wanted to help and would be around if Garrett needed him. Having Seth part of the team that would bring Alexa home made her feel better, especially when she had news of her own to share.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Did something else happen?”

  Jess wiped her palms on her jeans and took a deep breath.

  “I’m heading out soon. Garrett is sending a team to help Alexa, and I’m on it.” She looked him in the eye. “I wanted to thank you…for everything.”

  “Even for the peep show in the shower?”

  “Especially for that peep show.” She grinned and enjoyed the blush on his cheeks.

  She’d forgotten how comfortable he always made her feel. Even when life felt like a kick in the teeth, Seth Harper could usually make her smile. Still, Jess knew her life wouldn’t be an easy fit with his. It had been another reason why she’d resisted letting him into her heart any more than she already had.

  She’d never found a man with staying power. And even if Seth had real potential, she knew not to expect much, but not because she thought he’d deliberately hurt her. She was a card-carrying member of the walking wounded. She couldn’t expect him to accept her the way she was. T
hat was too much to ask of anyone. And when she finally had to let him go, it would be too painful.

  Seth would leave an empty crater in her heart—in a place where only he would fit.

  He stared at her a long moment. He crossed his arms and didn’t take his eyes off her until he finally spoke again.

  “I know this is what you do. And there’s a chance you might…” He held back the rest. “I’m proud of you, Jessie, but that won’t stop me from worrying. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Yeah, Mr. Macho. I think that’ll be okay.” When she stepped toward him, he held her in his arms and rested his forehead on hers. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, taking in the intoxicating smell of his skin. With the warmth of his body next to hers, she felt safe…and loved.

  It was good to have someone to lean on, even for a little while.

  Southeast Cuba

  Trailing the men who had Kate had been slow, especially with Kinkaid in his condition. Alexa did most of the strenuous tracking, leaving him to flank her position and be on guard against an ambush from the men they were chasing. After last night, the bastards who had Kate knew they were being tracked, making them more dangerous. And since they had home-turf advantage, the terrorists knew where they were going, which put her and Kinkaid at an even greater disadvantage. They also had to stay off the main path. That left them drudging through thick vegetation at nearly twice the distance.

  Alexa looked over her shoulder to see Kinkaid behind her with weapon in hand and eyes alert. Even as sick as he was, he was a big man and still looked formidable to anyone who didn’t know him—but she knew better. His movements were more languid than usual, and the steely glare in his green eyes lacked his usual predatory gleam.

  When she got to good cover, she caught his eye to signal him to stop. He joined her and dropped to a knee. Drizzle pattered on her boonie hat, a reminder they were still at the mercy of Mother Nature.