Cold Day in Hell (9 page)

She knew what he did for a living; she’d made the assumption he was on the job.

“That sounds good to me,” Callie said as she snuggled into his side.

Callie’s hand brushed over his T-shirt clad chest, just missing one of the nipples she’d teased earlier. The contrary fucker puckered to alert and demanded more. He inhaled, then exhaled sharply, moving her hand away from his sensitive nubs and farther down onto his ribs.

“Two of the specials, Rosa.”

“
Sí
, Risto.” The woman smiled and walked away from their table.

Suddenly, Callie stiffened. Her hand on his rib cage flexed, her fingernails digging into his muscles. He followed her anxious gaze to the entryway, the view previously had been blocked by Rosa. Cruz and two of his men stood in the opening, scanning the room.

“Rosa,” he called out in a voice that carried to every nook and cranny in the restaurant, “could you add an appetizer? Some chips and some of Tom’s famous queso?

And let him know I’m here. I want him to meet my wife.”

Rosa’s eyes widened at his last words, but didn’t show her shock in any other way.

“
Sí,
Risto. I’ll let Tomas know you are here.” She hurried off.

Callie nuzzled his neck. “Cruz wants you dead. Look at him. Jesus, I’m so sorry to pull—”

“Fuck it, Callie, just hush. Don’t worry about me. This is my job. Do you doubt my ability to take care of a two-bit terrorist?” He brushed his lips over the top of her head.

His narrowed glare never left the enemy entering the room. He felt her shake her head.

He squeezed her shoulder. “That’s my girl. Just keep up the act. If all goes as planned, you’ll be home by this time tomorrow. Safe and sound.”

Cruz and his bodyguards were seated by Rosa at a table straight across the room from theirs, just inside the door. He bet there were at least another two of the para-leader’s soldiers outside, one on the front and one on the back. If it hadn’t been for Callie’s presence, Risto would’ve looked forward to taking them out. It took more than a few terrorists to take down an SSI operative.

Rosa placed their drinks and the chips and queso on the table. Her troubled gaze flickered over Callie whose face was burrowed into his shoulder, her hair covering her expression from any interested eyes. Risto mouthed, “She’s fine.” Rosa nodded and left.

“It’s okay.” He rubbed her arm, trying to impart his warmth to her too-cool skin. “No reason to be afraid. Cruz won’t do anything in the bar.” She turned her face up, a look of heated indignation and not fear in her eyes. “I’m not scared. I said I trust you and I do. I’m just so cold all of a sudden. I hope I’m not catching a virus.” He suspected her chills were a result of an adrenaline crash.

“Kiss me,” she ordered, then delicately licked his lower lip. Her hand massaged his stomach above his waist and his dick strained to escape his jeans, a heat-seeking missile searching for her hot little fingers. “Warm me up, Risto. Make me think only about later

… about us.”

Fuck.
The images her words created had him momentarily forgetting where they were as he debated whether Tom would let him use the bar office.
Shit.
He needed to get his brains out of his pants and act like the highly trained marine he was.

“Callie, I need to keep my head in the game and not in bed with you.” He picked up a chip and scooped some queso onto it. “Here, eat something. You need fuel. I can’t have you fainting on me if we need to run for any reason.”

“Okay, but I’m damn well giving the green light later at this Conn’s, and if I have to attack you, you will fuck me.” She was damn cute when she was pissed. She bit into the chip he offered, chewing, then licking her lips. “So good.” Under her breath, she muttered, “But I bet your cock tastes better.” He groaned. She smiled sweetly then sucked his fingers clean of every trace of salt and cheese. “Yummy.” In that instant, he had clear, 3-D, Technicolor images of her using that tongue on his horny cock.
Fuck. Just fuck.
The little tease. His dick was ready to shoot.

Callie turned her head away, a calm, almost beatific look on her face. She moved the hand from his abs to pick up her glass of wine, then took a sip. The sexy hum she made in the back of her throat had him groaning and adjusting to a more comfortable sitting position. If he got any more aroused, he’d have permanent zipper marks on his dick.

He leaned into her, forcing her back against the upholstered banquette, then took her lips in little biting kisses. She tasted like wine, queso, and Callie. “God, I want you, minx.” He took her hand and placed it on his cock. “This is what you do to me.” Her opalescent eyes filled with heat and need.

He folded her hand back around the stem of her glass. “But that’s for later. So, behave. No more teasing little strokes, no more husky little hums and definitely no more kissing while the enemy is present. We stay alert, eat, and play the game. Maybe—” he doubted it, “—Cruz’ll go away and we can leave Colombia without a fight.”
Not gonna
happen.

She kissed his chin. “I understand and I’ll try to behave.” She settled back onto the seat, her side glued against his as if she were afraid he’d disappear.

Cruz had stared daggers at them during their little byplay.

“He wants to hurt me now.”

Yeah, Callie was damn observant and had read the enemy’s emotions well.

“I can see it in his eyes,” she said. “He, uh … threatened me, told me what he’d do to me if I ran, what he’d do to my brothers. Then he bruised me on purpose, a taste of what could happen, he said. He scared me, but he also made me mad—so I called Keely.” Risto fought the need to go across the room and kill the fucking bastard. Instead, he carefully smoothed away some hair which blocked his view of Callie’s beautiful face.

“You’re standing up well. You don’t look frightened.”

“I put on faces for the camera for a living. I was scared to the bone until you arrived.

But I’m not scared now. I’m royally pissed. So, fuck him.” She was lying through her teeth. He sensed the fine tremors travelling through her body, but she maintained a calm face for their audience. She had courage. He was fairly sure she would hold her own if the need arose. Retreat was not in her vocabulary—just like a marine.

Then Callie shocked the shit out of him. She lifted her head and coolly, regally, acknowledged Cruz with a short nod. Observing her face, you’d think she was greeting a casual acquaintance and not a raping, murdering paramilitary leader and wanted terrorist who’d terrified the hell out of her.

“God, you are so sexy.”

She glanced at him, confusion in her expressive eyes. “What?” He leaned into her and whispered against her lips. “Sexy, because you’re facing a monster, your nemesis, with that royal-princess-to-peon attitude. Your courage is a turn-on.”

“I think I just pissed him off even more.” She snuggled into his side, one hand gripping his thigh, the other hand on his neck twisting the hair at his nape, both actions telling him how stressed she really was.

“I think you sucking my fingers did that, baby.” He tucked her even closer to his side. He stroked a finger over the top of her shoulder. “He’s underestimated you from the beginning. Because you’re a woman,”
My woman. For now,
“and he’s a chauvinist, he didn’t foresee you fighting back.”

“Yeah. Well, get me a sniper rifle and some high ground and I’ll show him his equal.” She aimed a frosty glare at the topic of conversation. “Right between his vile, slitty snake eyes.”

Risto chuckled and squeezed her. “Blood-thirsty wench.”

“You have no idea.” She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and sighed. “If I could’ve gotten my hands on a weapon sooner, I would’ve shot the bastard and run for Ecuador.”

Risto was glad that hadn’t happened. While there might have been enemies of Cruz between here and Ecuador who might have aided her in getting out of the country, she would’ve never made it out of Cruz’s territory to get to them. The para-leader controlled the area from Barranquilla to Cartagena along Route 25 to outside of Medellín. A huge chunk of Colombian real estate.

“
We’ll
make it out of Colombia, but not to Ecuador.” He tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear so he could see her face. “Just follow my lead and you’ll be fine.” She angled her head, her gaze fierce. “You can’t guarantee we’ll make it out of the country. I’m not stupid. All sorts of things could go wrong. We need to work together.

Let me at least pull my weight. Share the driving. I’m good with a GPS and maps.”

“You’re running on nerves and adrenaline. You’ll nap and I’ll drive.” She opened her mouth and he put his finger over it. “Hush. I want you rested. You promised to follow my orders. We’ll do this my way.”

Her eyes glittered with some strong emotion. “Then we won’t have sex. You need to…”

He glared her into silence. Everything primitive in him screamed at the thought of not taking her, marking her. “Tonight, you’re getting thoroughly fucked—and tomorrow, I’ll be driving and you napping. Understood?”

She nodded, lowering her lashes, a slight flush on her cheeks. Her breaths were shallow, but rapid, and he could see the pulse beating in her neck. His authoritarian tone had either excited her or pissed her off. He could live with either emotion just as long as she wasn’t scared.

Risto’s lips quirked with a satisfied smile. Callie, while brave, game, and possessed of a strong feminine temper, had been raised to respond to strong authority figures. The years she worked in the fashion world to support her brothers were years of survival, of always being the strong one for her younger and needier brothers—years of sublimating her desire for a strong man to love and care for her. She was a strong woman who needed a strong man, a good man—one who knew about building a home and protecting a family.

Risto would like to be that man, but knew himself well enough to know he wasn’t a forever kind of man. But he’d do for now.

Rosa interrupted them. “Tomas says to tell you he’ll be out to sit with you after you have eaten.” She placed their meals in front of them. She leaned over and adjusted the place settings. “Tomas will take you on a
very special
tour of the kitchens later.” She winked and straightened. “Enjoy your food.”

Risto nodded. He’d always suspected Tom had a hidden way out of the bar. “Thanks, Rosa. We’ll look forward to speaking with Tom. Won’t we, honey?”

“Yes.” Callie took a bite of the rice and beans. She licked her lips and moaned. The sound was so sensual, his cock jerked within the confines of his jeans. “This is so good.

My compliments to Tom.”

“
Gracias
.” Rosa left to greet a new customer.

Ignoring Cruz and his thugs, they sat silently, companionably, and dug into the food.

He cleaned his plate then noted Callie had stopped with more than half her food left.

“Eat it all, baby, or I’ll feed you. You need the fuel.” She smiled and it was as if the sun had broken through the clouds. “I think I’d like you feeding me, but we might get finished faster if I feed myself. Maybe another time?” She arched a brow, sending him a look full of mischief and promise. “I’m just pacing myself, okay?”

“Damn, and I was looking forward to feeding you now.” He wiggled his brows, causing her to giggle. The fact he’d made her laugh sent a warm feeling to the pit of his stomach. God, it would kill him to let her go after this assignment was over. But he would. She deserved someone with a safer livelihood and more civilized.

Callie picked up her second fish taco and took it to her mouth. He kept a peripheral eye on the enemy as he watched her enjoy the food. An indulgent smile crossed his lips as he took a drink of his beer. She made better progress now that he’d lightened the atmosphere.

He hadn’t ever thought watching a woman eat would be a sexual experience, but it was proving to be with Callie. Her little sounds of enjoyment. The licking of her lips.

Sucking food off her fingers. All were rife with sexual connotations. He shifted in his seat.
Keep your fucking head in the game.

Callie’s little snort told him she knew exactly why he fidgeted. He’d make her pay for her amusement later. He smiled evilly at the thought of arousing her and all the ways it could be accomplished.

Movement from across the room had Callie stiffening. She laid down her fork, the hand closest to him went to his thigh again, her nails digging into the denim. She swallowed hard. “I can’t eat any more. He’s coming over.” Risto’s warm breath feathered across her cheek. His hand covered hers as she clenched his thigh. “Let me handle him.” He patted her hand and then moved his left arm around her shoulders and idly played with the curls lying there.

She brushed her cheek against his upper arm. “I’m sorry. I can help—”

“No. I’ll handle it. You sit there and sip your wine.” He turned to face the approaching enemy. He had his Glock in his right hand, under the table, pointed at Cruz’s gut. If FUBAR happened, he’d shove Callie under the table and take out at least Cruz and one of the others. His peripheral vision told him Tom stood behind the bar. The former marine nodded; he had their backs.

“Calista.” Cruz loomed over her side of the booth. His two men stood behind him, their hands hovering over their sports coats where their weapons were concealed. “Who is this man?” The Colombian’s possessive rage came through clearly in his harsh raspy tone and the icy glare of his eyes.

Callie buried her face against Risto. He hugged her closer and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Her husband. Who the fuck are you?”

Cruz hissed an ugly profanity.