The Mercenary (6 page)

“I don’t chew gum,” she said primly. “It isn’t ladylike.”

“Neither is puking your guts out.” Marc unwrapped a piece and stuck it in her mouth.

“Chew.”

She glared at him from bleary eyes. “Remind me never to agree to go anywhere with you.” Her jaw

worked the gum. The flavor of mint bursting on her tongue was a blessing.

Marc suppressed a grin. “Another invitation isn’t likely to come up. Can you make it for about forty

more minutes?”

“What’s the alternative?”

He pushed her dripping hair out of her eyes and laughed. “You could always swim.”

“How far is it?” She looked serious. He supposed that now wasn’t the time to let her know that she

would be getting her wish. An enormous wave broke against the side and she let out a little shriek as

hundreds of gallons of water crashed over them. Marc held on to the rail and pulled her against his chest

as the wave foamed at their feet.

The wind whipped her hair into his face. It smelled of baby shampoo. “That was close.” Burying his nose

in the wet, fragrant mass he tightened his arms around her narrow waist.

Her voice, muffled by his yellow slicker, vibrated against his chest. “I don’t even like this kind of

adventure in a movie. I can’t remember what it’s like to be dry.” Her bright eyes peered up at him. “And

I think I swallowed my gum.”

Marc chuckled and she pushed at his chest. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Another wave crashed on deck a few feet away and he used it as an excuse to pull her closer. She fit

rather well against him, despite the bulky slicker encasing her. “We spies just live for adventure.” The

corners of his mouth tilted in a reluctant grin.

Marc saw the pulse beat in her throat. Her dark lashes were spiky, her long hair slicked back, exposing

a bruise and a bump on her forehead. She’d regained a little color and her lips were a pale petal pink.

My God, he thought in amazement. She’s gorgeous.

She was still staring up at him, her arms wrapped around his waist as he dropped his mouth to hers.

Tory pushed him away with both hands against his chest. “Are you out of yourmind? ”

“Apparently.”

“Were you trying tokiss me?” she asked with unflattering disgust.

“Hey, you two!”

Tory flushed, stepping away from Marc as Angelo shouted again. “Land ho!” She looked over the side of the heaving boat. “Land ho—where?” All she could see in any direction

were mountains of churning gray water beneath hills of black clouds.

She gripped the slick railing with one hand as Marc and Angelo gathered their things together. Angelo

helped Marc shrug into the A.L.I.C.E. pack and then handed him several mysteriously wrapped

packages, which Marc tucked into his belt.

He stripped off the slicker and bundled it into another pouch clipped to his belt. His jeans were black

with water and the heavy cable-knit sweater sagged as he slipped off his shoes and used the laces to tie

those to his belt, too.

Tory gave him a wary look as he made his way barefoot across the tilted deck toward her. Her lips still

throbbed from anticipating that kiss. She could almost imagine her heated body sizzling as water

drenched her from head to toe.

“Now you, princess. Off with that slicker.” He started unbuttoning it and Tory tried to bat his hands

away. She spat her hair out of her mouth as the wind lashed it around her, but she unbuttoned her coat

one-handed, and gave it to him. Marc stuffed her water-repellent coat in with his own.

“Now your shoes.” The wind and rain cut straight through Tory’s thick sweater and borrowed jeans and

froze her to the marrow as she struggled with the laces, eventually handing her shoes over. When he

didn’t respond with more than a grunt, Tory said with a giant shiver, “I don’t have to tell you why I prefer

hanging out with accountants. They never make me do things like this.” Marc checked over the supplies one last time. “I’ll keep that in mind. Let’s go.”

“Go where?” She looked around for a dinghy. There was nothing in the choppy waves.

Realization came

too late. “Oh, no! No, I can’t…”

“Hold your breath, sweet pea. Here we go.” Marc took her hand and pulled her over the railing.

She’d no idea which end was up. The pressure of the black water came at her from all sides.Don’t

panic, don’t panic. Water filled her nose and she panicked. Arms and legs flailing, she swallowed a

mouthful of saltwater and somehow managed to bob to the surface.

She gagged, treading water as best she could. She didn’t want to think of what a tasty meal her bare

pink toes would make for some creature of the deep. Her right arm was useless. The most she could do

was try to float it in the plastic bag. Okay, so she could swim for it—wherever “it” was.

Everything looked the same metallic gray as she scanned the water for Marc. She only had the cast on

her arm to worry about. Marc was loaded down with equipment. Where was he?

A giant wave knocked her to the side, and a few seconds later she was underwater again, one-handedly

trying to get the hair out of her face. It clung like seaweed. Her heart was pounding double time as she

bobbed once more to the surface and then she felt something grab her sweater from behind. Tory let out

a gargled scream.

“Have…a…heart…honey. If I’d wanted them to…know…we were coming I’d have sent

a…telegram.”

Tory was too exhausted and too relieved to see him to answer back. She relaxed marginally as he

started towing her—hopefully, toward dry land. Kicking her legs and using her good arm, she tried to

help. He used the swells to propel them through the surf.

Sand scored her stomach as the waves pushed them farther up the beach. For a moment she simply lay

there with her face pressed to terra firma, the waves hungrily sucking at her quivering legs.

“Time to go.” Marc got to his feet, pushing his dripping hair out of his face and pulling her up beside him.

For one horrible moment Tory didn’t think her legs would work as they reeled unsteadily. Marc’s arm

came out to support her, bumping her hip with whatever it was heroes wore around the waist.

The moon played hide-and-seek with the clouds, illuminating the hard planes of his face only

sporadically. It started to rain. Tory sighed. “I hope we’re checking into a Hilton. I’d kill for a hot bath

and a cup of tea.”

The rain poured down in a torrent, and she licked her lips. The water was sweet and fresh, washing

away the crust of salt. Looking up to the black sky, she let the water sluice over her face and tripped

over a large dead tree limb. Marc used her own momentum to keep hauling her on. She glanced around

curiously. It was pretty hard to see anything in the dark. The ocean gave off a faint phosphorescence and

all she could see was gray beach stretching out in front of them. Up ahead was the solid outline of a cliff.

She tugged on his hand and he stopped. Tory could just make out a feral gleam in his eyes. “I hope you

don’t think I’m going to climb that cliff. Because I’ve got to tell you—” Afraid that he’d yell that she was slowing him down, but terrified of heights, Tory was a little relieved

when she caught the faint flicker of his smile. “We’re checking into the Hotel Grotta Zaffiro.”

“Oh, please,” Tory said fervently to his turned back, “don’t be joking.” He tugged her hand, leading her

to the base of the cliffs. It was rockier here and her bare feet came into contact with hard stone instead of

hard-packed sand.

“In twenty minutes you’ll be up to your pretty neck in hot water,” he promised.

Tory grinned. It sounded like heaven and gave her a new burst of energy as she scrabbled over a big

boulder.

They seemed to be climbing, but it wasn’t straight up. Piles of large rocks, some worn smooth by the

waves, others harsh and porous, littered the base of the cliffs and they had to pick their way carefully in

the dark. That hot bath was her sole focus.

Surely they would have to find a road soon? The rain had stopped and the sky had lightened to pewter

as they climbed. Marc hadn’t said a word for ages. He turned to help her up.

She was out of breath and panting as she dropped her hand to her knee and hung her head, gulping for

air. Her hair pooled on the rocky ground in wet, curling skeins. When she straightened, Marc was

grinning.

“What?”

“You look like Medusa.” He laughed softly as she gave a horrified gasp, her fingers going to her snarled

and tangled hair. Taking her hand he pulled her after him. “Actually, all things considered, you look damn

good. Come on, princess, your bath is waiting.”

“I hope this hotel is at least a two-star—Oh, Marc, no.” Disappointment rocked her back on her heels

as she realized what he’d done. “Please, tell me we aren’t going into a cave.”

“We aren’t going into a cave,” he said agreeably, his fingers tightening on hers as he pulled her toward a

small hole in the face of the cliff.

She saw the narrow beam of light pool at his bare feet as he turned on a flashlight, angling it so that she

could find her footing behind him. It took a moment for Tory’s eyes to adjust.

“You rat, you said I’d have a hot bath.” She followed behind him closely, looking anxiously about the

narrow cavern. “And room service. There’d better not be any bats in here.”

“No bats.”

The cave smelled damp and unpleasant, but that was par for this course, Tory thought crossly. Trust him

to promise a hot bath just to get her moving. They walked straight ahead for a while, then turned a corner

and went straight again. They continued down a slope, walking for what felt like at least another mile.

She stumbled over a protruding rock, stubbing her toe, and then had to scurry behind him as he forged

ahead. “Marc,” she called, taking his hand gratefully when he stopped to wait for her.

“Okay?” His voice bounced off the narrow walls, his fingers warm as they closed more tightly over hers

and he moved forward again.

“Oh, I’m just peachy.” Tory lowered her voice as she heard how nervous she sounded in the echo.

“Considering that the man I’ve trusted with my life is leading me through a cave, after lying to me about a

hotel. What happens if this path runs out and there’s nothing up ahead?”

“If I fall down a black hole, just let go of my hand. Someone’s sure to rescue you if you go back down

to the beach.”

Tory’s footsteps slowed at the thought that they might end up at the bottom of some deep dark hole,

never to be heard from again. She shivered in her wet clothes, holding on to his hand like a lifeline. Could

she let go, as he’d instructed?

Probably not, she thought, moving close enough to his back to feel the heat of his body.

The thin beam of the flashlight illuminated only a few feet in front of him. The cramped walls of the cave

closed in around her, the rough surface of the rock snagging on her sweater.

After a minute or two Marc said into the silence, “I’ve been here before. There are no holes to fall into, I

was joking. Don’t worry.”

Easy for him to say. Tory stuck as close as she could without tripping them both. Her bare feet hurt, as

did a hundred other spots on her poor, unheroic body.

She bit her lip as they were suddenly plunged into darkness when Marc clicked off the light and

stopped. “Close your eyes.”

Tory was only too glad to comply. The darkness was oppressive. “Now what?”

“Trust me.”

An inner voice laughed at that. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.” She could hear the smile in his voice as he urged her on. “Keep ’em shut. You’re going to like

this.”

Tory kept her eyes closed but she muttered grimly under her breath, “If it’s going to be another scenario

where you’re the hero and I’m the shivering coward—”

“Open your eyes, princess.”

Slowly Tory slitted her eyes open, then stared with eyes and mouth wide. “Marc…” They were standing in an enormous cavern. The ceiling was a hundred feet or more above their heads.

The entire area was filled with a shimmering iridescent turquoise light that made everything look

somewhat unreal. In the center of the giant natural auditorium lay a placid lake. Mist floated above its

surface and draped over the lush emerald ground cover and ferns at the water’s edge.

“Oh, Marc.” She

was utterly speechless. She’d never seen anything quite so beautiful in her life.

“Grotta Zaffiro,” he murmured reverently. “The Sapphire Grotto.” He got just as much enjoyment from watching her expressive face as he did from the grotto and the

thought of…Tory shivered and he cursed under his breath. She was exhausted, and her broken arm must

hurt like hell. He’d dragged her halfway around the world and tossed her into a stormy sea. She needed

food, warmth and rest.

“You can take in the sights later.” Marc propelled her toward the back of the cavern.

“Let’s find a

relatively safe place to bed down and then you can take that hot bath.”

“I thought you were just joking about that too, an inducement to get me here.” Marc heard the exhausted slur of her words and kept a steadying hand on her arm.

“There’s a hot

mineral-spring pool about three hundred yards from here.” His own body felt heavy from exertion, and

he was in good shape. But it had been almost three years since he’d been on an op or done anything

quite this physical. For all her protestations of being a coward, she’d done amazingly well. But now her

face was colorless and her lips tinged with blue.

Stopping abruptly, Marc let her sink to the sandy floor. “Rest here for a moment while I go and check