CHAPTER 19

Day seven
Nightfall

"What did you make of that?" Raven touched Christian's arm, the meeting with Bianca Salvador on her mind.

The same thoughts plagued him. The older woman had definitely been on edge and had a lot to lose. She loved her nephew. That much was plain to see, but the strangest part was Bianca's true purpose. She conveyed what happened to Hector, yet seemed more bent on making sure he carried her talisman—as if life or death depended on it. Strange world, he thought.

"Not sure. Hector getting picked up by Duarte so soon after Jasmine? Maybe someone saw him or knew we'd been to the Macumba store before." Christian took her in his arms, his mind working double-time. "But why? What would Hector know about all this?"

"Maybe it's not what he knows, but what he witnessed. People disappearing on the streets of Cuiabá can stir up an investigation. And it sounds like your chief of police is already curious enough to make that happen." Raven speculated. "If that lab has something to hide, they'd do just about anything to keep their secrets. My guess."

"But why abduct my father?"

"In a case like this, I'd say follow the money. And I'd bet serious coin that this is linked to Genotech Labs. Someone has invested in the genetics of drug addiction, and not for the good of mankind. Whoever is behind this wanted Charboneau out, maybe to take his place. Greed is a powerful motivator." She narrowed her eyes. Her cop instincts had taken over.

He heard it from across the room and pulled from her arms to answer it.

"Delacorte." He listened, his face taking on a sense of urgency when he recognized the voice. "Chief Zharan. You have anything new?"

"I have no news on your friend, Jasmine Lee. My men have canvassed the neighborhood where she was taken and we found no other witnesses, a common outcome in these times. No one wants to get involved." He sighed heavily on the phone. "I still have men working this, but if Captain Duarte is involved, we may never know what happened. He would know how to dispose of a body that would never be found. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but if this were my acquaintance, I would want to be mentally prepared for the worst. By nature, perhaps I am a fatalist, a consequence of the work I have chosen."

Christian shut his eyes, letting the world fade to black. He pictured Jasmine's face and felt the loss of a comrade in arms, but he didn't want to believe it. The woman had saved his life and Raven's—a lifetime ago.

A part of him wanted to rage at the injustice, but another part understood the consequence of the "work" Jasmine had chosen. What goes around, comes around—and kicks you hard in the butt—but who's to say what was deserved or what was truly unfair?

In hindsight, he had no business judging Jasmine Lee—and yet, he had.

Raven sensed his worry and laid a hand on his chest, her fingers touching the talisman under his shirt. Her beautiful dark eyes gave him comfort, beyond any words he could ever express. Christian brushed back a strand of her hair and forced a smile, but she saw through his facade, a sad expression on her face.

And he loved her all the more for it.

Most of his life, people didn't have a clue what he was about. They considered him a mystery and never bothered to learn more. Maybe he scared people. His emotional scars kept others away. His mother was the exception, but Fiona had secrets of her own, and plenty of them.

Raven had no such agenda. She accepted him faults and all, reading him like an old familiar book. Christian liked the feeling.

He didn't feel alone anymore.

"On the side of good news, we have reason to believe we know where Mr. Charboneau is being held." The chief had optimism resonating in his voice. "At this point, however, I can't say anything more. You understand?"

"Yes, certainly."

"We can't mobilize tonight, but we're leaving at dawn."

Christian read between the lines, in what the chief didn't say. Working logistics for a tactical maneuver in the jungle involved coordination and planning for all contingencies.

"I don't suppose you can share any of the details."

"No, sorry. I can't, but we're preparing tonight at an undisclosed location. I've hand-selected my men, not even headquarters knows the location of this op. The fewer who know, the better. If all goes as planned, we can attempt a rescue, perhaps one without bloodshed. That is my hope." Zharan cleared his throat. "I apologize for being so mysterious. I hope you understand."

"Yeah, I do, believe me. But I've got a favor to ask."

"Yes, Mr. Delacorte?"

"Take me with you," he pleaded, knowing he'd pay the price. Raven's eyes flashed with shock that evolved into anger. She punched him lightly in the chest, then pointed a finger to herself. She wanted to go too.

Silence. Chief Zharan didn't jump on his offer. Finally, he said, "Taking a civilian is not exactly standard operating procedure."

Raven punched him harder this time, looking more determined. She wasn't going to quit.

"Please . . . can you hold a minute, Chief." Christian covered the phone. Narrowing his eyes at Raven, he whispered, "Sorry, I gotta do this."

"Think about it, Christian. You left Chicago and I came after you. What do you think will happen if you try to leave me behind this time?" She crossed her arms and stared him down.

He'd seen that look—stubborn determination. He cocked his head, knowing he couldn't hide the disbelief on his face.

Still holding the phone to his ear, covering it with a hand, he shook his head. "No. Can't risk it."

Raven softened her expression, a show of love on her beautiful face. Going for his jugular, she pulled out the heavy artillery from her playbook on feminine wiles. He prepared himself for both barrels between the eyes.

"Look, my job is dangerous, Christian. It's what I do." She raised her chin, fixing her gaze on him. "You can't protect me every minute . . . even though I love you for trying." She smiled, a gesture that quickly faded. "Put yourself in my shoes. Think how I'd feel if I let you go and something happened to you. I'd never—" She couldn't finish and looked away.

He knew what she meant. Jasmine had felt the same when Charboneau was kidnapped on her watch. And no way he'd let Raven go without him if their situations were reversed.

He nodded and took his hand away from the phone.

"Sorry, Chief Zharan, I'm back. I just wanted to say that I'm not exactly an inexperienced civilian."

Raven looked upset again, misinterpreting his intentions. He raised a hand, quietly asking for her trust before he continued, "I'm well-trained in weapons, tactics, and I can follow orders. Please ... with all that's happened. I have to go."

The man sighed again. "To tell you the truth, I'm concerned for your safety if I leave you in Cuiabá . . . and your lady friend. With a certain captain lost and unaccounted for, I fear he may not hesitate to arrange another 'arrest.'" The man's voice was laden with sarcasm and full of disappointment regarding his own man. "With the rescue operation, I will be preoccupied. And I don't have enough men to protect you while I'm gone. Hard to know who to trust, if you know what I mean."

"Then bring us both along. Raven and I can handle a weapon, if you allow it. Either way, we'd be part of your team."

Nodding, Raven grinned and crossed her fingers. Christian raised an eyebrow and shook his head. You had to love a woman who got jazzed over the prospect of an armed assault, but it sure made dating hard to top.

"Very well." Zharan still didn't sound convinced, but to his credit, he understood Christian's need to go.

"The detective you met previously? I'll have him pick you up at five-thirty A.M. He will meet you in front of the hotel." Referring to Detective Fuentes, Zharan played it cagey to the bitter end. "It will be dark, but sunrise will come soon enough. Bring whatever weapons you choose, purely for self-defense. But make no mistake, Mr. Delacorte. Both of you will follow my orders to the letter. My men will handle any tactical maneuvers. Is that clear?"

"Understood. And thanks, Chief Zharan. You won't regret it." He ended the call and fixed his eyes on Raven. "We're on. I'll fill you in on the details. But tonight I want you all to myself. Deal?"

He held out his hand.

"Deal." She nodded and shook it.

Staring into Raven's deep, soul-branding eyes, Christian thought of only one thing.
You must be abso-frickin' -lutely out of your mind, Delacorte!

After dinner from room service, Christian and Raven spent a quiet evening, preparing for tomorrow morning. They had showered together, taking time for every caress and holding each other in the hot stream—a loving intimacy he had never experienced. Neither had spoken, during or since.

The grueling trip to Brazil and his complete surrender to Raven had left him drained . . . and more than a little worried.

Dressed in a white hotel bathrobe, Christian forced himself to go through Jasmine's stuff, a necessity that hit him hard. He couldn't get his head wrapped around Jasmine being gone. Here today, gone the next, he wanted to believe life and the human spirit meant more than that. The thought that it might not lurked in his mind and twisted his gut. He felt an obligation to find out what happened to Jasmine. He owed her that much.

Strange too. Somehow, he felt certain she'd do the same for him.

Christian had left Raven in his room, packing a rucksack they'd share tomorrow. The chore wouldn't take long, but he wanted to give her space. Quiet prep time allowed each of them to grapple with the reality of what tomorrow might bring. Death was the silent partner they dealt with each and every day. For Raven, murder was part of her job as a homicide detective. But for him, death had entrenched itself into the emotional baggage he would carry the rest of his life.

Still, as he saw it, a guy comes into this world alone and he goes out the same way. No sugarcoating required. He could deal with his own death, but the thought of something happening to Raven ripped him apart. A wave of serious second thoughts hit him until he put things in perspective.

Raven had followed him to Brazil out of love. How could he argue with that? He would've done the same. She was a headstrong woman with a mind of her own, one of her more endearing qualities—and one of the reasons she put up with him.

As a cop, she faced dangerous situations all the time. Her badge put her in the line of fire. When he started this relationship with her, he knew he'd have to deal with that fact or leave. He chose to stick it out and treat each day with Raven as a gift. The alternative would be living in a vacuum, without risking his heart. He'd been there . . . done that.

Until now, when dealing with Raven's line of work, that reasoning had done the trick. But Zharan's words still resonated with him. If he left Raven behind and Duarte took her into "custody," he would never forgive himself. He couldn't take the chance.

In the end, he didn't want Raven out of his sight.

"Okay . . . that's it," he muttered under his breath.

Every weapon in Jasmine's gear bag had been tossed onto the mattress for his closer inspection. The woman sure knew how to pack. And with what he brought, Raven should have plenty to choose from. Christian stuffed the essentials into a small day pack and locked away the rest. He left Jasmine's room, carrying the bag with him.

But when he got to his bedroom door, he stopped cold. Slowly, he laid the pack on the floor near his bare feet. Raven had been busy all right, but it was not what he expected to see.

The bank of recessed lights in his room had been turned to a soft glow and she'd moved every candle in the suite to the bedroom. They flickered and cast soft shadows on the walls. And no one looked better in candlelight than Raven. Her dark hair shone auburn strands, reflecting the warmth of the flames and the blush of her cheeks.

"Dear Lord," he whispered his thanks, finding it hard to catch his breath. Very hard.

She smiled, a tender yet seductive lure. The pale light accentuated her perfect skin, velvet soft like a rose petal at dawn. And she lay naked under his blankets with nothing but a crisp white bed sheet over her breasts and down the length of her body. He had never conjured up a wet dream as flawless as Raven Mackenzie . . . and never would.

Still spellbound and unable to move, he licked his lips, taking everything in.

"Hey you, those lips are mine and I need my fix." She pulled back the bed covers on his side and patted the mattress, gesturing for him to join her. A lusty smile on her face.

Christian hooked a thumb under the belt to his robe and tugged. He shrugged out of one shoulder, then the other, and let the robe drop to the floor. Every move, every action, was foreplay. He didn't want to rush it. Using every ounce of willpower, he took his time making his way toward the bed, not taking his gaze off her. He loved the way her eyes traveled the length of his body, and he savored the moment. When she saw his erection, her smile faded, replaced by hungry need.

"You've been busy." Christian conjured an inspired grin. "Now I've got all night to return the favor."

Dawn
Outside Cuiabá
Day eight

A molten sun cast its fire across clouds that streaked the parting night sky. Soft billows absorbed the color, borrowing from the marvel of sunrise—an inverted and undulating sea of red. Truly breathtaking. The vivid hue washed over the interior of the vehicle, bathing Christian in its fire. In awe, he watched the rising sun and drank in the beauty of this land as he felt the shape of the talisman Bianca had given him, the soft pouch under his shirt. Ever since he first put the trinket on, the weight of it never let him forget he wore it over his heart. Strange as it was, he couldn't bring himself to leave it behind. Not today.

Along the horizon, the backdrop of the skyscraper city, Cuiabá, stood in dark silhouette. A reminder of man's intrusion. Even at dawn with cloud cover, the temperatures were sweltering.

"Bad weather, I'm afraid." Detective Fuentes drove his unmarked vehicle onto the tarmac of the heliport. Christian sat in the front seat, Raven in the back. "What is it they say about a red sky?"