Soldier of Fortune (6 page)

The man was short and sandy-blond, with a face like a railroad track and a slight figure. He was much older than the other two men, probably nearing fifty. He was wearing jungle fatigues with laced up boots. At his side was a holstered pistol; over his shoulder, a mean-looking rifle.

“Archer!” The short man chuckled, and they embraced roughly. “Damn, but I’m glad to see you, even under the circumstances. No sweat,
amigo
—we’ll get Martina out of there. Apollo came like a shot when I told him what was on.”

“How are you, First Shirt?” J.D. replied. “You’ve lost weight, I see.”

“Well, I’m not exactly in the right profession for getting lazy, am I, boss?” he asked Laremos, who agreed readily enough.

“Laremos said Apollo and Drago were here, but how about Chen?” J.D. asked.

The short man sighed. “He bought it in the Middle East,
amigo.
” He shrugged. “That’s the way of it.” His eyes were sad and had a faraway look. “It was how he’d have wanted it.”

“Tough,” J.D. said, agreeing. “Maps and radios, Shirt—we’ll need those.”

“All taken care of. Plus about twenty
vaqueros
for backup—the boss’s men, and I trained ’em,” he added with quiet pride.

“That’s good enough for me.”

“Shall we get under way?” Laremos asked, helping Gabby into a large car. He stood back to let J.D. slide in after her. They were joined by First Shirt, who drove, and another man with a rifle.

The topography was interesting. It reminded Gabby of photos of Caribbean islands, very lush and tropical and studded with palm trees. But after they drove for a while, it began to be mountainous. They passed a burned-out shell of what must have been a house, and Gabby shuddered.

“Diego,” she said quietly, nodding toward the ruin, “the owners—did they escape?”

“No,
señorita,
” he said.

She wrapped her arms around herself. J.D., noticing the gesture, pulled her closer. She let her head fall onto his shoulder quite naturally and closed her eyes while the men talked.

Laremos’s
finca
was situated in a valley. The house seemed to be adobe or stucco, with large arches and an airy porch. It was only one story, and it spread out into a garden lush with tropical vegetation. She fell in love with it at first sight.

“You approve?” Laremos smiled, watching her with his dark, lazy eyes. “My father built it many years ago. The servants in the house are the children and grandchildren of those who came here with him, like most of my employees. The big landowners who hold the
fincas
provide employment for many people, and it is not so temporary as jobs in your country. Here the laborers serve the same household for generations.”

She hadn’t noticed anything unusual about the drive except that the small, dark man beside First Shirt had his rifle in his lap and kept watching the countryside. Now he stood beside the car, rifle ready, while the others went into the house.

It was dark for a moment until her eyes adjusted; then she began to see its interior. There were tiny statuettes, obviously Mayan, along with bowls of cacti, heavy wood furniture, and Indian blankets all around the big living room.

“Coffee?” Laremos asked. He clapped his hands and a small woman about First Shirt’s age came running with a smile on her face.
“Café, por favor, Carisa,”
he told the woman in rapid-fire Spanish.

She nodded and rushed away.

“Brandy, Archer?” he asked J.D.

“I don’t drink these days,” J.D. replied, dropping onto the comfortable sofa beside Gabby. “First Shirt, have you been able to get any intelligence out of the other camp?”

“Enough.” The short, sandy-haired man nodded, also refusing the offer of brandy. “She isn’t being mistreated, not yet, at least,” he said, watching the younger man relax just a little. “They’re holding her in the remains of a bunkhouse on a
finca
about six clicks away. They aren’t well armed—just some rifles and grenades, no RPGs or other heavy stuff.”

“What is a click? And what’s an RPG?” Gabby asked.

“A click is a kilometer. An RPG is a rocket launcher,” J.D. explained. “It makes big holes in things.”

“Like tanks and aircraft and buildings,” First Shirt added. “You must be Gabby. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She was taken aback. Everybody seemed to know about her, but she’d never heard of any of these people. She glanced at J.D.

“So I brag about you a little,” he said defensively.

“To everybody but me,” she returned. “You never even pat me on the head and tell me I’ve done a good job.”

“Remind me later,” he said with a slow smile.

“Could I freshen up?” Gabby asked.

“Of course! Carisa!” Laremos called.

The Latin woman entered with a tray of coffee, and he spoke to her again in Spanish.

“Sí, señor,”
Carisa murmured.

“I’ve asked her to show you your room,” Laremos explained. “Archer, you might like to take the bags and go with them. Then we can talk.”

“Suits me.” J.D. picked up the cases and followed Gabby and the serving woman down the hall.

The room had a huge double bed. It was the first thing Gabby noticed, and she felt herself go hot all over, especially when Carisa left and she was alone with J.D.

He closed the door deliberately and watched her fiddle with her cosmetic case as she set it down on the dresser.

“Gabby.”

She put down a bottle of makeup and turned.

He moved just in front of her and framed her small face in his hands. “I don’t want you out of my sight any more than you have to be. Laremos is charming, but there are things about him you don’t know. About all these men.”

“Including you, Mr. Brettman?” she asked gently, searching his eyes. “Especially you?”

He drew in a slow breath. “What do you want to know?”

“You were one of them, weren’t you, J.D.?” she asked quietly. “They’re more than old friends. They’re old comrades-in-arms.”

“I wondered when you’d guess,” he murmured. His eyes darkened. “Does it matter?”

She frowned. “I don’t understand. Why should the fact that you served in the Special Forces with them matter?”

He seemed torn between speech and silence. He drew in a breath and rammed his hands in his pockets. “You don’t know about the years before you met me, Gabby.”

“Nobody does. It has something to do with trust, doesn’t it?”

He met her searching green eyes squarely. “Yes. A lot. I’ve lived by hard rules for a long time. I’ve trusted no one, because it could have meant my life. These men—First Shirt and Laremos and the rest—I know I can trust them, because under fire they never failed me. Laremos, maybe once—that’s one reason I brought you along. Against my better judgment,” he added dryly. “I’m still not sure I could live with myself if anything happened to you here.”

“And that’s why you want me in the same room with you?” she probed delicately.

“Not quite,” he admitted, watching her. “I want you in the same room because I’ve dreamed of holding you in my arms all night. I won’t make any blatant passes at you, Gabby, but the feel of you in the bed will light up my darkness in ways I can’t explain to you.”

She felt her heart hammering. He made it sound wildly erotic, to be held close to that massive body all night long, to go to sleep in his arms. Her breath caught in her throat; her eyes looked up into his and her blood surged in her veins.

His fingers moved down to her throat, stroking it with a deliberately sensuous lightness. “Is your blood running as hot as mine is right now?” he asked under his breath. “Does your body want the feel of mine against it?”

He bent and tilted her face up to his, so that he could watch her expression. His mouth opened as it brushed against hers.

“Stand very still,” he whispered, opening her mouth with his. “Very, very still…”

She gasped as his hard, moist lips began to merge with her own. She tasted him, actually tasted the essence of him, as he built the intensity of the kiss. His hands moved down her back, bringing her torso against his and letting her soft breasts crush against the hardness of his chest. His teeth nipped roughly at her mouth as he drew slowly away. His eyes were blazing—fierce and passionate and hungry.

“I like it hard,” he said under his breath. “Will I frighten you?”

She barely managed to shake her head before he bent again. This time it was a tempest, not the slight breeze of before. He lifted her in his hard arms and she felt the heat in him as his mouth opened wide. She felt his tongue go inside her mouth in a fencing motion that made her feel hot all over and dragged a smothered moan from her throat.

She was trembling, and her body couldn’t seem to get close enough to his. She clung to him, trying to weld herself to him, but before she could move, he was putting her on her feet. His eyes blazed wildly in his pale face.

“No more of that,” he said heavily. He freed her abruptly, and the blood rushed back into her upper arms, making her aware of the pressure of his unconscious hold on her. “My God, you were trembling all over.”

She felt naked under his glittering gaze. She’d never been vulnerable like that with anyone, but to have it happen with J.D. was terrifying.

“I feel funny,” she said with a shaky laugh.

“Do you?” He took a deep breath and drew her head to his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Gabby. I’m not used to virgins.”

“That never happened to me before.” She hadn’t meant to confess it, but the words came tumbling out involuntarily.

“Yes, I felt that,” he murmured. His hands, tangled in her hair, gently drew her closer to him so that her cheek rested against his chest. “Gabby, do you know what I’d like to do? I’d like to take off my shirt and feel your cheek against my skin, your lips on my body…” He groaned and suddenly pushed her away, turning on his heel. Gabby stood behind him and ached for what he’d just described.

“How long have we worked together…two years?” he asked in an odd tone. “And we spend two days posing as lovers and this happens. Maybe bringing you along wasn’t such a good idea.”

“You said you needed me,” she reminded him.

“Gabby, just don’t tempt me, all right?”

“Do what?” she asked blankly, looking up at him with dazed eyes.

“Damn!” he growled and then sighed. “Gabby, what I’m trying to say is, let’s not get emotional.”

“You’re the one who’s cursing, counselor, not me,” she reminded him coldly. “And I didn’t start kissing you!”

“You helped,” he reminded her, his eyes narrow. “You’d be a joy to initiate.”

“I am not sleeping with you!”

His knuckles brushed her mouth, silencing her. “I was teasing. I won’t do anything to you that you’ll regret, Gabby, that’s a promise. No sex.”

She swallowed. “You scare me.”

“Why?”

“Because of the way you make me feel,” she confessed. “I didn’t expect it.”

“Neither did I. You’re a heady wine, honey. One I don’t dare drink much of.” He lifted his hand to her hair. “You could be habit-forming to a man like me, who’s been alone too long.”

“Maybe I’d better resign when we get back…” she began, shaken as much by what she was feeling as by what he was telling her.

“No!” he said curtly. His fingers caught the nape of her neck and held on. “No. This is all just a moment out of time, Gabby. It’s no reason to start getting panicky. Besides,” he added heavily, “there’s still Martina. And God only knows how this will turn out.”

She went icy cold. “Jacob, please don’t go with the others.”

“I have to,” he said simply.

“You could get killed,” she said.

He nodded. “That could happen. But Martina is all I have in the world, the only person I’ve ever loved. I can’t turn my back on her, not now. I could never call myself a man again.”

What could she say to that? He touched her cheek lightly and left her alone in the room. She watched the door close with a sense of utter disaster. It didn’t help that she was beginning to understand why she trembled so violently at his touch.

J.D. had always disturbed her, from the very first. But she’d assumed that it was because of the kind of man he was. Now, she didn’t know. Just looking at him made her ache. And he’d kissed her…how he’d kissed her! As if he were hungry for her, for her alone.

She shook herself. Probably he just needed a woman and she was handy. He’d said not to get herself involved, and she wasn’t going to. Just because she was all excited at the prospect of being part of a covert operation, that was no reason to go overboard for J.D.

She wondered at the way he’d reacted when she’d asked if he had been one of the group before. Didn’t he remember that he’d told her he’d served in the Special Forces?

It was fifteen minutes before she rejoined the men, wearing jeans and a loose pullover top and boots. J.D. studied her long and hard, his eyes clearly approving the modest gear.

She stared back at him. He seemed like a different man, sitting there in jungle fatigues and holding some small weapon in his big hands.

“The Uzi,” he told her when she approached and stared at the miniature machine gun curiously.

“And what’s that?” she asked, nodding toward a nasty-looking oversize rifle with a long torpedo-like thing on a stick near it.

“An RPG rocket launcher.”

“Is that Gabby?” a short black man asked, grinning at her.

“That’s Gabby.” J.D. chuckled. “Honey, this is Drago, one of the best explosives men this side of nuclear war. And over in the corner, being antisocial, is Apollo. He’s the scrounger. What we need, he gets.”

She nodded toward the corner, where a second black man stood. That one was tall and slender, whereas Drago was chunky.

“Hey, Gabby,” Apollo said without looking up.

“Does everybody know my name?” she burst out, exasperated.

“Afraid so,” First Shirt volunteered, laughing. “Didn’t you know Archer was a blabbermouth?”

She stared at her boss. “Well, I sure do now,” she exclaimed.

“Come here, Gabby, and let me show you how to work the radio,” Laremos offered, starting to rise.

“My job,” J.D. said in a tone of voice that made Laremos sit back down.

“But of course.” Laremos grinned, not offended at all.