Operation Summer Storm (3 page)

The loud click in her ear made her wince but she scrambled from the bed and grabbed her bag. She was waiting in front of the motel in less than two.

The traffic and strange bouquet of smells took her breath away. Although she lived in a city, the noise was nothing like this. The heat and the bustle, the smells of food and traffic all mixed into an overwhelming, over-stimulating experience for a first time traveler.

Having never traveled outside of Australia before, Summer found she had to learn fast how to move through customs and read airport departure and arrival screens. As she emerged from the terminal, the heat and noise of Denpasar International airport had been overwhelming. During the short trip to Kuta where the meeting had been scheduled, Summer had a chance to soak up the hustle and bustle of the tourist industry—Bali style.

Australians had a long time love affair with this small island in Indonesia. When Summer had been growing up, it was considered an initiation into adulthood to make the trek up to Bali for a holiday— but that all changed after the Bali bombings in 2002, which took place right here in Kuta, where two hundred and two people died—eighty-eight of them Australians.

Absorbed in the sights around her, she gave a start of alarm when her elbow was taken in a firm grasp and she was steered towards the back of a dark car. It happened so fast she barely managed to utter a squeak of protest until it was too late.

Squashed in between two large bodies in the back seat, she looked up to find one of them was Tate, but the discovery didn’t exactly reassure her that she was safe. Her heart raced in alarm at how easy it had just been to be abducted in broad daylight-right beneath the noses of hundreds of witnesses.

Two men sat in the front of the vehicle, neither one turned around, and the two beside her stared straight ahead. “Where are you taking me?” her voice came out sounding timid and uncertain. It also fell on deaf ears as not one of them bothered to answer. Wedged in between the two solid bodies in the back seat, she wriggled, the action winning her a sidewise glance from Tate intended to still her squirming.

Real panic then set in. She was in a car with four strange men and she had no idea where they were taking her. “Where the hell are we going?” she demanded. This time her voice was louder, harder to ignore.

“Relax, we’re going someplace safe to talk,” Maddox told her in a tightly controlled voice.

“Relax? I’ve just been abducted and you’re telling me to relax? Are you out of your freaking mind? You could be arrested for this, you know,” her voice rose in alarm.

Her gaze flew around the small confines of the car and she caught the slight tilt of the driver’s lips as though her tirade was somehow amusing.

“Let me out right now,” she made a dive across the lap next to her and reached for the door handle. A surprised grunt, escaped from the man beside her, and with little effort she was effectively restrained, wedged even tighter between the two bodies, as surely as she’d been strapped into a chair. Their steel-like arms pushed her back against the seat, immobilizing her without even trying.

“You guys are in so much trouble,” she muttered with as much venom she could muster. She closed her eyes tightly, as she tried to control the surging alarm inside her.

Eventually, the tourist hustle and bustle gave way to lush fields of rice and farmland. Modern structures of ugly concrete and steel were replaced with small dwellings and the road narrowed to barely wide enough for one car. Tall, thin, palm trees lined the road. They passed women carrying produce on their heads, and young children on motor bikes at frequent intervals.

Pulling off the road, they came to a stop outside a group of bamboo dwellings and she was finally able to exit the vehicle. Looking around, she noticed animals wandering around the low huts, searching for food. A scrawny looking dog came over to sniff timidly at their feet before scurrying away in search of scraps.

A man came to the doorway of the largest hut. Summer recognized him as one of the men she’d previously met upon arriving in Bali. He gave her a nod of welcome as she walked past, flanked by the four men who’d driven her here.

Inside the hut, she was invited to sit in a chair at a woven cane table. A small Balinese woman walked in and offered her a cup. Summer accepted the drink with a nervous smile and politely took a sip. The aroma of strong, sweet tea greeted her senses and managed to somewhat relieve her jittery nerves.

The four men from the car, and the man who greeted her at the door, took up various seats around the table and room and Summer rested her mug of tea, clenched firmly in both hands, on the table top to keep them from shaking. From the file she knew the real names of these other men: “Peter Delaware, Chase Maloney, and Johnny Tupperoni, but she wasn’t sure who belonged to what name.

“Will someone please tell me why I’m here?” she finally ventured, lifting her gaze towards Tate.

“We need to know more about the files and how the hell you found us.”

“I’m not answering anything until someone tells me why we had to drive to the middle of nowhere to ‘talk’,” she answered, tightly.

“Well darlin,’ seems like you already know a hell of a lot more about us than your supposed to, so why don’t you go ahead and tell us.”

His patronizing tone, grated on her nerves, and sparked a rebellious impulse. “Well Eugene, I actually don’t give a damn about what’s in the file. I was only interested in securing your help. So, as for how much I know? The answer’s—bugger all really. I only had your name and the new identities you were given.” She sent a skeptical look Tate’s way and continued, “Seriously? Of all the names in the world you had to choose from, you went with Eugene?”

A loud chorus of coughing covered a ripple of unexpected amusement which Tate did not join. Scowling even deeper, something she wouldn’t have thought possible, he glared across the table, “It’s not like we got a choice.”

“Alrighty then,” she murmured doubtfully. “Look; all I know, from what I read in his research is that you’ve established new identities,” she sent a dubious glance at Tate, “and that you’ve been working as Mercenaries; that’s it. So, who’s who?” she asked, switching her gaze from the glowering man beside her to the other men in the room.

He sent a stiff nod to each of the men seated around the table, “Del, Tupper, and Maloney. Pete, you already met at the initial meeting. Happy? Now, tell us more about the file,” his voice, humoring her with the introductions, turned deadly serious when he asked about the file.

Her gaze had followed the introductions, briefly settling on the faces watching her with varying degrees of curiosity. There was nothing the least bit metro-sexual about any of these men. Their skin indicated they’d spent a large majority of their life out in the elements—tanned and toughened by the sun. There was a quiet danger about them. A coil of tension which lay just below the surface.

“I don’t know what more you want to know. I gave you the list of what the file contains,” she told them blandly, “and I didn’t find you; you found me. All I had was the contact number in Michael’s notes.”

He considered her silently for a few uncomfortable moments before issuing an ultimatum. “Bring us the evidence and we’ll do our best to find someone else to help you out with your sister.”

“I don’t have that kind of time. I want my sister out of there now.”

She sensed the mounting tension in the room but refused to back down. “Look, I don’t care about Tréago. Your contact details were in with Michael’s research, so I’m trusting, that for whatever reason, he knew you guys could help him. You’re welcome to the damn file and everything in it, as soon as I get my sister back.”

A silent conversation seemed to be taking place around the table, between the men, who’d all remained silent during their exchange, but had been listening intently. They seemed to be acknowledging some predetermined course of action, their faces a mask of reluctant submission.

Turning back to face her, Tate stared at her intently, his expression sharp enough to tear the meat from her bones. “We break out your sister and the other hostages, then upon delivery you hand over the evidence,” he bit out in a formal, clipped tone.

Her heart jumped in excitement, “You’ll do it?”

The dark look he shot at her told her clearly that it wasn’t happening from the goodness of his heart.

“Pete told you how much it’s going to cost?” he asked, but it was little more than a courtesy; he knew exactly what Pete would have told her.
He seems to know everything except where the file i
s, she thought with a quiet relief.

“I have the money,” she stated calmly, trying not to flinch under the weight of his stare.

Tate’s gaze hardened. “Have it transferred to this account.” He handed her a scrap of paper with an account number scrawled on it. She reached out and took it with numb fingers. “From here on in, you don’t need to be here. Go home and we’ll contact you when we have anything to report.”

Summer stared at him blankly, “I’m not going home without my sister. I’m going with you to get her.”

Tate gave a cynical laugh, then realized she was serious. His eyes narrowed dangerously, “Lady let’s get one thing straight. Around here, I’m the boss. What I say goes.”

“I beg to differ,” she corrected, not having to voice the reminder; she had possession of the file they so desperately wanted.

Tate leaned forward until he was almost nose-to-nose with her. “You don’t understand. This isn’t a game. Those people holding your sister murder for a living. They won’t stop to ask who we are before they start shooting, and they sure as hell won’t just let us walk in there and take their hostages without a fight.”

“I’m going with you,” she repeated and tried not to let the warm, fragrant, scent of ocean, salt and sun, which clung to him, distract her. “I’m a trained trauma nurse. After three weeks in a Cambodian prison, my sister and the others are going to need immediate medical attention. They need me there.”

“Have you any idea what that country is like? We won’t be staying in hotels. We’ll be hiking through jungle. Real jungle. I can’t vouch for your safety—I won’t be responsible for you getting killed.”

“I realize there are going to be dangers but I have to go.”

“Forget it,” he snapped.

“Then forget our deal. The file will just stay buried. You can go to hell,” she snarled, pushing away from the table.

“Do you know what will happen if you do that?” he asked quietly.

Summer eyed him warily; her anger still simmered too close to the surface. “I really don’t care what happens. It’s not my problem.”

“Think again. If Tréago realizes there’s a file floating around—and you can bet your pretty little ass he does. You won’t be any help to your sister because you’ll be dead. The longer you hold on to that file, the greater threat you pose to him.”

“Maybe I’ll just take my chances…you have a choice. Either I go with you or our deal is off.”

His eyes pieced her with a look so full of venom that she began to tremble, but managed to stand her ground and hold his glare.

“It’s your funeral,” he warned her with almost grim satisfaction.

Summer watched him walk outside and let out a shaky breath. The other faces around the table stared at her pensively. She tried not to read them too closely. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know how much they must loath and despise her right now.

She glanced up as the man, she now knew as Del, pushed his chair away from the table and followed the fuming Tate outside, leaving her alone with the three other men.
Well, this isn’t awkward
…
much!
she thought miserably as she walked across the room toward an open window, to see chooks, happily pecking and scratching in the grass, as they searched for grubs to eat. She envied their carefree existence right at that very moment—which said a lot when a person began envying poultry! From this point onwards her life was about to get a whole lot more complicated and she’d brought it all upon herself.

Chapter Three

Tate cursed long and hard beneath his breath as he walked from the hut.

What did he have to do to make this woman understand how dangerous this was? It wasn’t bad enough she was blackmailing them, no. She had to take it one step further by demanding she come along for the ride.

She had him swinging between the urge to strangle her, in sheer frustration, and taking that sassy mouth under his and kissing her until they were both senseless. Never had another woman made him lose it the way this one did.

“So? What now?” Del’s voice cut into his troubled thoughts.

Tate sent a dark look across to where Del leaned against the front of the car. “She thinks she’s coming with us,” he bit out, still unable to believe her idiotic demands.

“What are we gonna do?”

“We’re going to change her mind.”

* * * *

The civilized tone of Mozart’s,
Piano Sonata No. 16 in C
, rang out from the gold plated mobile sitting on top of the crisp, white, linen tablecloth.

“Sir, you asked us to watch her bank accounts. We’ve just received word of a large bank transfer made from Ms.. Sheldon’s bank just a few hours ago. Bronson and Macintyre just called in to say they’re heading to a location in Bali, where she’s booked a room. Do you want them to eliminate her once they locate her?”