The Mercenary (8 page)

We have a few

hours to kill until dark.” He tossed her a towel and a small bar of soap. “If you turn left and go about a

hundred feet you’ll find your hot bath. Take your time.” He pulled her to her feet. “I’ll be at the main entrance, keeping a lookout.” Tory set her cup next to his on a rock ledge. “To tell the truth, I’d be more excited if you told me there

was a bathroom around here.” Flushing, she picked up the wet, folded clothes, adding them to the soap

and towel.

“Your every wish is my command. Follow me.”

The cavern was about the size of two football fields, the walls pale in the eerie glow.

The sapphire water

was crystal clear, casting shimmering waves on the walls.

Tory walked beside Marc as they circled the lake on the far side. “How do all these plants live in here?”

she asked as they passed a shrub covered with tiny white flowers. Ferns and moss grew right to the

water’s edge.

“There’s plenty of natural light and freshwater.” Marc plucked one of the flowers and stuck it in her

braid. “Let me know if you want to swim, though. The water here is over forty-five feet deep. Its clarity

is deceptive.”

Circling around a huge fern that was as tall as he was, he turned back to look at her.

“See that whirlpool

at the end?”

In this light, with the reflection from the lake, his eyes were crystal clear and looked blue. “What is it?”

“A natural drain.” He pointed back the way they’d come. “The hot spring is back there in the gut of the

mountain. The water pools in the depression near camp and then runs into this lake. By then it’s cold.

The water drains down a forty-foot tunnel directly into the sea below. Don’t swim here unless I’m with

you. That drain hole is wide enough to suck you right down to the rocks below.” Tory shivered. She’d

had enough of deep water yesterday when he’d dragged her overboard.

He pointed out the cement enclosed bathroom standing sentinel discreetly around the corner from the

entrance. “Only the one on the left still works. They were stuck in here for the tourists, but there haven’t

been any visitors to the grotto in years.”

“Why not? The cavern is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Remember the rocks we climbed to get here yesterday? Those crashed down from the cliffs. It isn’t

safe for tourists at the moment. Besides, since the terrorists claimed Marezzo, they’ve discouraged

tourism to a certain extent. A few tour groups are allowed in every now and then to preserve their cover.

But it’s pretty much their island. The locals are all basically keeping a conspiracy of silence. Their lives

depend on it.”

Marc pulled the Walther from the small of his back and checked it, ignoring the way Victoria’s eyes

widened at the sight of the weapon. “I’ll be just outside if you need me. The hot spring is back the way

we came.”

THE POOL WAS ABOUTsix feet across and surrounded by water-smoothed rock. The bottom was a

powdery sand. Tory stripped quickly, then stepped into the hot water, keeping her arm out and dry. The

heat felt wonderful as she sank in up to her chin, her hair floating around her. Sighing deeply as her aching

muscles relaxed in the warmth, she closed her eyes against the steam.

It felt like minutes, but was probably more like half an hour when the sound of his footsteps was

followed by his irritated voice. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tory shrieked as she blinked her eyes open to see Marc Savin emerge through the steam. Water

splashed over the side of the pool as she slithered upright, her hand to her throat.

“What are you doing here?” she gasped. She’d fallen asleep and it took a moment for her brain to kick

into gear. Her cheeks flamed as his cold gaze drifted down to where her wet hair clung to her bare skin.

“What’s taking you so long?”

One arm was useless as a cover. Tory quickly whipped the towel off the rocks and into the water and

slapped it over her chest; her knees made little islands above the water as she drew them up to cover as

much of herself as she could. “I must have fallen asleep. Look, I’ll just finish up here and…Would you

please leave?” Mortification made her voice choke. She flushed from her hair to her toes.

He came closer. Tory licked her lips and slid farther under the water with a one-handed death grip on

the towel. “Please. Just go.” She was afraid to blink. He was already far too close.

He was wearing jeans.Just jeans. His naked chest was darkly tanned, a thick trail of crisp black hair ran

in a V down the center. He crouched beside the pool, his knees spread for balance.

Flushing even more,

Tory ripped her gaze away from what was now at eye level. If she’d reached out her hand she could

have touched him, he was that close.

Her heart rose to her throat. She didn’t know where to look. Tory stifled a whimper.

Steam moved in lazy swirls around him. His hair was still loose, hanging to his shoulders in a dark shiny

drift that was disconcerting. She stared at a distant point on the other side of the cave.

The wet terry

across her chest felt heavy, forcing her to take deeper breaths. She could feel his stare like fingers sliding

down her naked skin, and she shivered.

Managing to look him in the eye she again said in a small voice, “Please. Will you just go away?”

Marc stared down at the woman in the water. The steam shimmered on her pink skin. It looked smooth

and soft. Her wet hair effectively blanketed her body, trailing in the water like seaweed.

A fragrant blob

of soapsuds slid down her silky shoulder, and dropped to float on top of the water. He knew he should

leave. It was absolutely crazy to have come looking for her in the first place.

Even the center part in her hair was pink with embarrassment.

“We’ll be leaving as soon as it’s dark,” he said briskly, shifting to his feet. Her face went even redder as

he turned back to look at her.

“Fine,” she managed, eyeing him warily. He could see the frantic pulse in her throat.

Christ. He was

going to have a hell of a time with her. She was such a little mouse. She quivered if he even looked at her.

“I’ll get you a dry towel.” He glanced at the wet material molded to her breasts as she shifted restlessly.

“Thank you,” she said stiffly.

Perversely, Marc stayed. He couldn’t afford to have her fold like a wet tissue when they found her

brother. He couldn’t afford for her to get all weepy and terrified every time he snapped out an order. An

order that could very well mean life or death. He needed her tough. He needed her mad.

He needed her

to grow a spine. Fast.

Tory hating him for being a sadistic bully might just be a perk, he thought wryly, watching the heat

spread across her cheeks. Since he was having a hard time keeping his hands off her, it worked to his

advantage if she loathed him. Yeah. This might work out just fine.

“You sound like a prim little schoolgirl,” he said mockingly. “Can’t you say anything other than ‘Thank

you’?”

Her head tilted regally. “Yes. I can say go away!”

“Princess, there’s nothing here that would make me want to stay.” The way she tilted that chin irritated

the hell out of him. He wanted to see just how far he would have to push her for her to fight back. He

sighed. It was a useless endeavor. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she was a coward.

“I hate you,” she said in her quiet little voice, looking at anything but him.

“Say it louder.”

Her eyes shot back to his face. “Wh-what?”

“Say it louder and with feeling. Let me see how much you hate me.”

“You’re crazy.”

Marc took the three steps required to reach her side again. He crouched down and took her chin in his

hand. Her eyes were wide and frightened. “Let me see some grit and backbone, lady. I’m already having

second thoughts about hauling your ass to Marezzo.”

“Itold you I didn’t want to come.”

“Yeah, you did,” he said roughly. He dropped his hand from the damp heat of her face and levered

himself to his feet. “I’d feel a little more confident if you showed some guts. Hell, I’d settle for spunk.”

“You want spunk?” Her eyes blazed. “How’s this for spunk?” Whipping the soaking towel off her chest,

she threw it at him with all her strength.

The soaking fabric flopped down harmlessly into the sand. Marc kept his gaze on her face with effort.

Her eyes shot emerald sparks at him, and her jaw was rigid. “I’m here on Marezzo with you. I’m here,

but I don’t like it.” Her voice rose. “And I certainly don’t like you.” She threw the soap next; it glanced

off a button on his fly and dropped behind a fern.

“I’ll give you spunk!” She picked up a small smooth stone, throwing that, too.

Marc grinned as it missed his head by two feet. “Atta girl.”

“You’re a loathsome man.”

“Yeah?” Marc smiled. There was hope for her yet.

“Yes! Stop taunting me…and go…away!”

“Or what?”

Victoria looked at him. He was cocky and arrogant and just too blasted sure of himself.

She’d read

about men like this. She might need him to find Alex, but that didn’t mean that she had to like him. She

stared at his insolent face. She needed to establish right now that she wasn’t just going to take everything

he dished out. But how?

He loomed over her, bare feet spread, arms folded over his naked chest. He knew that she was rattled

and he was having a fine old time at her expense. What could she do that would rattlehis cage?

Before she could really think the action all the way through, Tory rose from the water.

Keeping her gaze

fixed at a point to the left and behind Marc, she stepped onto the rocks on the rim and then moved

around him. Water sluiced down the goose bumps on her skin. Every nerve and cell in her body was

embarrassed, but she kept her back straight and her head high as she walked past him covered in nothing

but her long hair and what was left of her dignity. Her face burned, but not for anything in the world

would she let him see how shaken she was and how much courage it had taken for her to get out of that

pool naked.

She felt totally exposed and more vulnerable than she’d ever felt before. But she wouldn’t back down.

Mingled with her embarrassment was the sudden realization of the guts it had taken.

Oh, my God, she thought incredulously as she heard his startled gasp behind her. I did it! Her spine

rigid, Tory forced her footsteps to stay even and refused to give in to the temptation to run and cover

herself. There was no sound from behind her, but she would have been hard-pressed to hear anything

over the thundering of her heart. She was five steps from the entrance to the camp when a hand gripped

her upper arm. She bit back a scream. Marc swung her around to face him. There was a nasty glitter in

his pale eyes. “Sex doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. Got that? So don’t throw that delectable little body

in front of me anymore, because I’m just not buying.” Without a blink, Tory stood frozen in his grasp. His lips were a hard thin line and his eyes were

narrowed on her face. Inwardly she flinched at the iciness of his expression. Her heart was beating hard

enough to make her body shudder.

What a nasty excuse for a human being he was. “How dare you! I wasn’t throw—” She’d been trying to

prove a point, but in doing so she’d left her actions up for interpretation. And Marc Savin being Marc

Savin had taken it as sexual instead of as a show of…independence? No, Tory thought with a lump in

her throat.Stupidity. She dropped her eyes, fighting back tears of embarrassment. After a few moments

she forced herself to look up at him.

His face was as inscrutable as the Sphinx. She swallowed. “I wasn’t trying to…I didn’t mean…I…I

don’t like being bullied.”

“I told you I wanted to see a little backbone. I didn’t mean I wanted to see you buck naked.”

She was gritting her teeth so hard her jaw ached. “I’m going to get dressed now.”

“Do that.”

Marc gave her a good fifteen minutes to get her emotional shit together. Hell, to be honest with himself,

he needed a minute to get his own shit together. Lord. What a body. She was luscious from head to toe.

And it wasn’t bruises he’d been looking at this time.

Victoria Jones was the sister of his best friend, Marc reminded himself. Off-limits. Out-of-bounds.

Besides, she wasn’t his type.

Yeah? he mocked, all that silky long hair? The firm, creamy skin? Those long legs?

Those beautiful,

pink-tipped full breasts? The mouth that would tempt a saint? Right. Not his type at all.

When he went back into their small camp she was sitting in the middle of the makeshift bed, cradling her

arm, wet hair soaking the shirt she’d pulled on over her damp naked body. She wasn’t giving an inch.

From the little he knew of her, he was astounded that she’d dredged up the nerve to pull that stunt. His

eyes narrowed in speculation.

He’d known before they started out that she’d be a pain in the ass. But damn it, he needed her to find

her brother. He didn’t have a choice. On the other hand, he mused with great annoyance, he hadn’t given

her any choice, either. The coffee in the metal cup was cold. Marc drank it anyway, irritated as she gave

a little sniff. Good. Back to her usual modus operandi. Marc didn’t acknowledge the relief he felt.

Victoria Jones, the wimp, he could handle.

He crouched down beside her. His soap smelled completely different on her skin. “What happened?