Cherry Adair - T-flac 03 (27 page)

"What…" She blinked her eyes back into focus. "Your gun? In the heat of the moment you remembered to put your damn weapon within easy reach?"

"We're not in a zoo, for Christsake. We're in a rain forest. There are all sorts of—"

"Thanks for reminding me." She could still feel him inside her. "Will you please let me go?" Delanie disengaged her legs as he carefully lowered her to the ground.

Naked except for her boots, she became painfully aware of the subliminal buzz of the insect population in counterpoint to the painful thudding of her heart. Swatting a big black winged thing that landed on her hip, she picked up her shirt, and shook it briskly before putting it on. Only then did she bend down to grab her pants from the mossy ground.

"Now that's a pretty picture." Kyle drawled, cupping her baby-bare behind. He handed her the scrap of black cotton he'd snagged from a spray of fire-red orchids several yards away.

"I can imagine." Delanie dusted off her behind, shook out anything unwelcome from her underwear, then pulled them on.

"Trust me. I've never seen anything sexier in my life." Kyle cupped her hot, sweaty cheek and dropped a quick, fierce kiss on her swollen mouth. With a fingertip he wiped away the sweat from the corner of her eye. "Are you okay now?"

"
Now? "
Delanie did up the top button on her pants before sticking the Colt into her waistband. She glared up at him and repeated. "Now? What does that mean?"

"You were hyper and stressed out." He shrugged. "Are you—"

Delanie took a menacing step toward him. "You had sex with me for my… nerves?"

"Isn't that like asking the man if he's stopped beating his wife? Hey! Wait a sec, where're you going?"

Delanie turned and looked at him over her shoulder. "Is your hearing aid turned up?"

"Huh?"

"I was trying to tell you something important but you kept rudely interrupting. I was outside, and the door to the shelter locked behind me. I can't get back in."

"Shit. I'm sorry. Here." He dug in his back pocket. "Take the key. Can you find your way back? I'm meeting the stooges at the lab five minutes ago."

"I'll be fine. It's not far." Delanie stood on tiptoe to brush a kiss on his mouth. "Watch your back, okay?"

Kyle grabbed her about the waist before she could step away. "I have plans for this bod. Keep it nice
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and neat and all in one piece for me, jungle girl. Don't loiter. I'll try and come tonight after everyone's gone to bed."

"If you come I guarantee you'll come." She smiled to cover her concern. "Be careful, Tarzan."

He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth. "Go."

Walking until she couldn't hear him or see him, Delanie paused briefly to readjust her clothing and do a quick check of her gun for debris before heading back to the shelter.

When she took a sip from her canteen it was only to find he'd exchanged her almost empty one with his, which was full.

Like the sound track from a jungle B movie, the rain forest's musical score kept her company as she pushed her way through the undergrowth.

It took several moments for her to sort the distinctly human sound from those of the jungle. She was dumber than a stump. Hadn't she learned her lesson yet? She fumbled for her gun, stepping behind a tree just as a man in camouflage moved within yards of her. He stopped, rested his Uzi against a tree, and lit a pungent cigarette.

The element of surprise might be on her side, but she had no intention of alerting him to her presence.

When he was done with his cigarette he'd move off, and she'd be on her way. She inhaled a stray whiff of secondhand smoke and relaxed her muscles to wait him out.

A sharp sting on her ankle caused her glance down.

Oh damn. The ants must have heard a dinner bell.

They marched in a slow column up her left boot. Carefully, centimeter by excruciating centimeter, Delanie removed her foot from their mound. With a fatalistic sensation she felt the canteen slip from its hook at her waist and fall with a soft thud to the mossy ground. She held her breath as it rolled several feet, paused as if in indecision, then rolled again, hitting the soldier's Uzi with a small, metallic click.

The man's head jerked up at the out-of-place sound. He moved for his weapon. Before he could snag it, she stepped in front of him, balancing on the balls of her feet, keeping eye contact, as she'd been taught to do in the self-defense class she'd dragged Lauren to.

Given Lauren's lifestyle, Delanie had decided her sister would likely need the knowledge. She'd never imagined
she'd
need it, too.

The guy had been one of the soldiers assigned to guard her at the swimming pool, and he was sure surprised to see her.

"
Madre de Diós
!" His eyes bugged as he crossed himself. "But you are dead!"

"Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated." She used the Colt to wave him away from his weapon, keeping herself loose as they circled each other.

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In some vague distant part of her brain she saw herself standing, legs braced, a gun in her hand in the middle of a South American jungle. She didn't recognize this person she'd become.

His surprise changed to challenge. "
¿Qué quieres
? Shoot me,
puta gringa
." He dared her, his feet kicking up leaves as he moved slowly around her. "In minutes
mis compañeros
will come. They will take you to
El Patron
, and he will kill you himself this time."

"You'll be dead, and I'll be long gone, pal." Brave words from a woman who was about to wet her pants with sheer fright. She didn't dare risk the sound of a shot, and that was if she could manage to figure out how the hell the gun worked in the first place!

She was still between the soldier and his weapon. Keeping an eagle eye on him, she leaned down and picked up the Uzi by the barrel. With an underhanded throw, she tossed it into the brush.

He swore virulently and pulled a knife, the blade about ten inches long and wickedly sharp. Heart firmly in her throat, legs braced, Delanie pointed the business end of the little gun at him. "Don't even blink!"

He rushed her, easily knocking the weapon from her hand. Her fingers stung. She jerked her knee up into his groin and he screamed and buckled over clutching his balls.

This would be a great time to run like hell, Delanie decided. She frantically did a visual search for her gun, then gave up. She wasn't hanging around for this guy to quit groaning.

She started to race into the trees, then stopped short. Holy Hannah. If the soldier went back to the hacienda, which he would, he'd tell everyone she was alive. And when he did, Kyle's cover would be broken.

Think. Think.

Go back?

Run like hell…?

The soldier made the decision for her.

He came up behind her, grabbing her by the back of her shirt, dragging her to where the undergrowth had been flattened earlier by their feet.

Delanie flailed around in his hold, not getting her feet under her enough to steady herself.

Trying not to think about the knife in his hand, Delanie twisted violently out of his hold and backed up.

Hands loosely at her sides, she allowed the circle to tighten. He came closer and closer until she could smell sweat and cigarette breath. Calling out Spanish insults, he jabbed the knife in the air, close to her face, playing with her.

Her persona as the ditzy blond was standing her in good stead. He felt confident enough to come up close and personal.

An adrenaline rush, so powerful it pounded through her veins, made all her neurons jump to life.

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"Come on, you ugly bastard," she taunted, dancing just out of his reach. She was the dog barking at a car. She had no idea what the hell she'd do if he
did
rush her.

He moved like lightning, coming at her like a bull at a red cape. Without thinking, Delanie used his momentum and applied her left fist to the man's jaw.

Ow. Ow.
OW
! Her hand stung.

He staggered backward, then came at her again, the knife flashing.

She did a
grand battement
, a ballet step she'd done a zillion times, only this time, instead of controlling the kick, she threw her leg high and hard. She kicked with power, the full weight of her body behind it.

Her foot caught him square in the stomach. He grabbed her ankle as he fell, bringing the two of them to the loamy earth, jarring her shoulder.

She continued kicking and punching.

He swore in guttural Spanish as he forced her onto her back. His fist against her already bruised solar plexus vibrated through her body, driving all the air out of her lungs. He dug a knee into her already bruised diaphragm. Black swirls blurred her vision as she felt her arm being wrenched out of the socket.

He dragged her roughly to her feet. Her head hung to her chest while she forced back the panic of not being capable of drawing in air.

After a few seconds of agony, air leaked slowly into her billowing lungs. His grip loosened slightly as she wheezed, her head down, hands on her knees. He grabbed a handful of her hair.

She executed a
tour jeté
, leaping in the air, scissoring her legs as she spun, both legs parallel to the ground. Her boot hit the man squarely on the jaw. His eyes widened, rolled, and he fell to the ground.

She kept a careful eye on his inert body as she dragged thick, wet air into her laboring lungs. Sweat poured off her in rivulets, stinging her eyes and attracting every damn flying insect in South America. Her breath sawed, the muscles in her calves and thighs ached, her hand throbbed.

But she was standing.

She'd won.

This round.

Sort of.

Now she had to do something with him to keep him quiet. She lacked the stomach to kill him, which would have been the safest, most efficient way to silence him.

She tucked the soldier's knife in the top of her boot, then dragged his dead weight deeper into a thicket of dense underbrush. It was heavy going, the guy weighed a ton. As soon as she figured he was far enough off the beaten path, Delanie let go of him and went back to where she'd dropped her tote and pulled her roll of silver electrical tape from the depth of her purse. Some women couldn't live without their glue guns. She carried the tape with her everywhere. Quicker, and more easily accessible than rope, it had been used for everything from auto repair to getting lint off a sweater. But she'd never used it to tie up a man she'd knocked unconscious with a ballet kick!

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With shaking hands she clumsily strapped his feet, then his wrists, together. A couple of inches across his mouth should keep him quiet for a while.

The adrenaline was subsiding in a dizzying rush. Sick to her stomach, she couldn't believe what she'd just done.

Tree trunks, foliage, and shafts of sunlight oscillated in a dizzying blur as she ran back to the shelter, moving as quickly as she could, pushing aside foliage and jumping over downed branches and low vegetation.

The sudden, blinding pain on the back of her head was intense and absolutely unexpected.

Her last thought was annoyance. Then everything went black.

«^»

Because of the flood of calls expected at one o'clock, lunch was served early. Kyle opted for a swim instead of food. He needed to expend some of the taut anticipatory energy filling him before he sat for long hours.

The culmination of four years' hard work was about to come to fruition. Every sense needed to be sharp, clear. Defined. No more thinking about a certain brown-eyed nymph. She was safely tucked into Montero's bomb shelter and smart enough to stay there until he came for her.

The hundred laps had taken the edge off, and he arrived at the appointed time, alert and ready for anything.

A long room at the back of the house had been set up as formally as a board room. Montero, white linen Armani suit immaculate, sat at the head of the koa wood conference table, his manicured hands folded. An ashtray, a pad, and several pencils neatly lined up in front of five red telephones with the lights of their multiple lines blinking like Christmas trees.

Behind Montero stood the ever-present Bruno, arms akimbo, expression blank. He was a nice touch.

The other members of the elite cartel were seated, the silence palpable. No one liked or trusted anyone at the table enough for small talk. Nevertheless, excitement and anticipation manifested themselves as tangibly as another presence. The room was already filled with cigar smoke. Sunlight streamed across the table, bouncing rather significantly, Kyle thought, off the diamonds in their pinkie rings.

"Come,
amigo
, we wait only for you." Montero waved Kyle over to the empty chair on his right.

The seat allowed Kyle the French doors at his back. Not that he needed a hasty escape route today.

But it was good to have the option, he thought dryly, pulling out the cowhide chair and slouching in his seat. Everyone else came to attention as Montero brought the meeting to order.

"We have twenty-five calls on hold." Montero smiled and glanced back at Bruno. "Take them in the order in which they were received. We will call them back within the hour."

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Bruno moved off, surprisingly light on his feet, and settled at a desk across the room. He picked up the first phone and spoke into it quietly.

The buttons on Sugano's Hawaiian shirt strained over his corpulent chest and belly as he leaned forward.

Next to him, Kensington seesawed a pencil between his fingers in an unconsciously nervous gesture. Out of the corner of his eye, Kyle saw Danzigger's pale chalky hands, clasped together on the tabletop.