The Stealth Commandos Trilogy (61 page)

The guard never had a chance to recover. As he staggered away from the wall Geoff fell upon him with the jealous passion of a lover fending off a rival. Geoff’s fury was awesome. He shook the man until his teeth rattled, threatening to kill him, then knocked him out with one skull-shattering blow.

Randy strained against the cuffs, desperate to be free as she waited for Geoff to bind and gag the unconscious guard. When he was done with the man, he dragged him to a closet and locked him inside.

“Untie me,” she pleaded as Geoff turned to her. But her heart froze as she saw the heat burning in his eyes. He believed she’d deceived him, and he was furious.

“Geoff, please,” she implored.

He studied her, still breathing hard as he took in her naked breasts and what was left of her harem outfit. Randy felt a sharp thrill of alarm. He looked as if he intended to take up where the guard had left off.

“What’s wrong with you?” she cried. “Untie me! We have to get out of here!”

“What’s the rush?” His voice was dangerously soft. “Santeras won’t be back tonight. He’s got a party to host. That’s why he left you in the hands of his thug rather than ‘interrogate’ you himself.”

“Dammit, Geoff, you have to let me go! Santeras is after Hugh, and he thinks I know where Hugh is.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you came to this party, sweetness. I seem to remember suggesting that possibility.”

Geoff wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, sweeping waves of damp hair from his eyes. A nerve sparked painfully in his jaw, triggered by the adrenaline still coursing through him. He knew she was frantic to be set free, but he had no intention of untying her, no intention in hell. She was too wildly erotic with her bared breasts and her anguished sighs. And he was too aroused and angry and frustrated to give in to his nobler instincts at that moment.

“How did you find me?” she asked, as if hoping to distract him.

“I heard your screams.” Anger flashed as he remembered how badly she’d frightened him. He’d had no idea she was in danger, or even that she’d come to the party, until he’d followed Santeras and his guard to this floor. He’d lost track of them in the maze of corridors when he’d heard a woman’s shriek. He’d known instinctively that it was Randy, and his heart had nearly slammed through his chest.

“I could scream again,” she threatened.

“Go right ahead, but it’s you they’ll find. And don’t expect me to come riding to the rescue.”

She swore at him and twisted against her bonds, but he made no move in her direction. He was fighting a dozen different impulses, the most immediate of which was to stay exactly where he was and let her beg for a while. He wanted her to throb wondering what he was going to do—and waiting for him to do it.

He let his eyes run the length of her body, trying to imagine how in hell he ever got mixed up with a heartbreaker like her. Her back was arched defiantly, and her skin was flushed with heat, glowing from her throat to her breasts. The sight of her enflamed him.

“Geoff!”

“Don’t go anywhere,” he said, letting the darkness he felt roughen his voice. He walked to the door, locked and bolted it, then turned back to her.

Randy waited, agonized, sensing what he intended. She moaned softly as he approached, her mind on fire. The idea of him touching her while she was restrained whipped her into a fever pitch of excitement. “You can’t,” she whispered.

“Can’t what?” he asked.

The anticipation she felt was nearly unbearable as he walked up to her. With his hair falling all around him in crazy disarray and his eyes as piercing as emerald shards, he looked capable of anything. She told herself not to move, knowing every breath that rushed through her lungs made her belly tighten and her breasts shake. She knew how she must look, stretched out and trembling, like a nubile slave restrained for her master’s pleasure.

“Please,” she said, “don’t ... touch me.”

The muscles of his jaw went taut. “You’re reading my mind, sweetness.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said, ashamed of her own desperation—and hating him for making her that way. “You wouldn’t take advantage, not like this. You’re not that kind of man.”

“Oh, that’s rich.” He laughed harshly. “I’ve been called everything from a bastard to a barbarian, but suddenly I’m not that kind of man.” His gaze dropped to her breasts, and he blew a soft jet of air over her cleavage, cooling the perspiration that had beaded there. “What kind of man am I, Randy? Why don’t you tell me, since you seem to be the expert?”

“You’re a monster!” A sob thickened her voice. “And I
hate
you.”

Laughing he continued to cool her down, purling air over her throat, her lips. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said. “Tell me how much you hate me. Randy. Tell my
why
you hate me.”

“Because you’re crude and uncouth—” She hesitated as if trying to think of something else. “And you ride a motorcycle.”

“Sure, sure, but why do you really hate me?”

She flushed a deep red. “Because of the way you look at me, the way you talk to me. You make me feel ... dirty.”

“Dirty!” He howled at the word. “You should be thanking me for that. Has Hugh ever made you feel dirty?”

“Of course not! Hugh treats me like a lady.”

“Yeah, I’ll just bet he does. I’ll bet Prince Charming kisses you all nice and neat and doesn’t even mess up your hair. I’ll bet Hugh’s a fastidious lover, isn’t he? In at ten, out at ten-fifteen? Simultaneous climaxes? All nice and tidy?”

“You’re disgusting!”

His breath shook as he studied her. “And you like it, don’t you?” He began to walk around her, circling her slowly, lowering his voice to a husky murmur. “If you know anything about me at all, Randy, you know I’d never treat you like a lady. I’d treat you like a woman. I’d mess you up a little, and I’d keep you that way—messy, sexy, wet—just for me.”

Randy reared up in shock. She breathed in sharply, and then she went weak against the restraints, her legs refusing to hold her. A powerful current of excitement was flowing through her, making her tremble, and yet deep inside, there was the wildest, sweetest ache, seizing up and clutching at her muscles. If she hadn’t been bound, she would have sagged to the floor.

“
Stop it
,” she said, fighting for strength. She twisted away from the cooling air that bathed her shoulders and breasts, refusing to look at him, refusing to participate in any more of his outrageous games. “Don’t talk to me anymore,” she said, her voice shaking.

She felt the pull of his silence, but she didn’t look up.

“Why not?” he asked finally. “Are you afraid of what I’m going to say, of how it might make you feel? I don’t even have to touch you, do I, baby? I can just talk to you and you get hot.”

“Please,” she breathed. “Don’t!” She could feel a kind of shuddering in her depths. It was strange and potent and beautiful, as if she were coming apart. It made her want to draw up, to protect herself, but she couldn’t with her legs restrained. She was helpless against the feelings. Her breasts were throbbing with excitement. Her thighs ached softly. He did make her feel like a woman. But he made her feel those other things too, totally unacceptable things! Sexy and dirty. Why was that so thrilling?

“Don’t do this,” she said urgently. “You’re torturing me.”

“I’m not even touching you, Randy.”

Geoff was well aware of her anguish, but he couldn’t stop himself. The sight of her half-naked and flushed with turmoil fed into his more primitive male needs. The restraints against her pale skin made her seem delicate, vulnerable. But even if he’d wanted to free her, he couldn’t have done it at that moment. He’d waited too long for this. He wanted to feel her naked breasts trembling under his touch. He wanted to make her heart rip out of control, just as his had.

He wanted some satisfaction.

She shuddered as he moved closer, close enough to tilt her head up and kiss her, close enough to cup her breasts.

Something near agony moved in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Maybe I have to.” His breathing went odd and harsh as he fought the need to give in to her, to end her torment. “Maybe I want to hear you admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you liked it, Randy. That you liked it with me, that you’d like it again.”

She moaned and swayed, almost sensually. It aroused the hell out of him hearing the sounds she made, watching her twist against the restraints. Her breasts shivered and swung with her movements, and her skin was flushed with heat. But it was her nipples that made his groin ache like fire. They were drawn, beautifully taut. They reminded him of how hard he was, how badly he wanted to make love to her.

“You’re beautiful, Randy,” he admitted huskily. “I want you.
I do want you.”

Randy went still at his admission, shuddering inside, waiting for his touch. Every cell in her body was waiting, every nerve. She closed her eyes, sighing, quaking. Wanting it ...
yes
, wanting it. But he didn’t touch her. His fingers never found her. His hands never claimed her breasts, easing their pain. Instead, he began to move around her again, arousing her with words, telling her with soft, searing heat what he would do to her if he were her lover.

She sagged against the restraints, unable to stand. The quaking inside her was terrible, beautiful. It broke over her like a wave, leaving her weak with stimulation, incoherent with need. She closed her eyes and whispered the words he wanted to hear.
Be my lover
.

“What, baby? I can’t hear you.”

He was going to make her say it again!

“Be my lover,” she pleaded, opening her eyes.

Pain flared through his features as he came to stand before her. He cupped her breast, searing her to her soul. “You already have a lover,” he said. “Who do you want? Me or Hugh?”

Randy shook her head frantically. She wanted him, even though she knew it meant giving up everything, her dream, her fairy-tale future. “You,” she whispered. A moan ripped through her as he bent and took her breast in his mouth, drowning her flesh in fire. “I want you!”

But even as she uttered the words, she knew she couldn’t go through with them. The instant they were out of her mouth, she began to shake her head and cry. “No, I can’t,” she gasped, flinching away from him, begging him to understand. “I can’t!”

Something snapped inside her then. Something went crazy in the dark recesses of her mind. “Stop!” she cried. He tried to keep her from flailing, but she twisted away from his hands. She was still fighting him, still writhing and crying when she realized that he’d cut her free from the leather restraints. She dropped into his arms, faint with sexual heat, torn by emotion and confusion.

Geoff gathered her in his arms, his heart pounding wildly. He wanted her with a ferocity that frightened him. And he could easily have taken advantage of the situation. She didn’t have the strength to resist him, and she was as aroused as he was. But he didn’t want her that way, confused about what she was doing, why she was doing it—and especially
who
she was doing it with.

He was also aware that he’d endangered their safety by delaying their escape. Despite what he’d told her about Santeras being occupied, he knew the man could show up at any time.

“Can you stand up?” he asked Randy, stripping off his shirt and wrapping it around her.

She nodded, still dazed, groggy.

“Come on,” he said gently, drawing her into his arms and soothing her until she stopped shuddering. “I know another way out of this dive. I’ve been here before.” She leaned into him heavily, letting him support her weight as they started for the door.

G
EOFF’S OTHER WAY OUT
of the villa involved an air-conditioning shaft and a claustrophobic climb to the surface. They escaped onto the grounds through an air-intake vent and then found the bike where Geoff had parked it, in a concealing thicket of banyan trees. It was a harrowing ordeal, but it took Randy’s mind off the tangle of nerves inside her, and it got them out of the villa without being spotted.

She barely had the strength to hold on to Geoff as they sped toward the entrance gates of the grounds on his motorcycle moments later. She was too dazed to worry about whether or not the guard would let them out. But apparently Geoff had some kind of “understanding” with the man, and the next thing she knew, they were zigzagging along the serpentine road that descended the mountain.

She pressed herself to Geoff, nestling her face into the valley of his shoulders as they caromed through the moist, jungle-scented darkness. All she wanted now was for her body to stop throbbing. And to be safe.

She’d just begun to relax when Geoff pulled the bike into the driveway of a cliffside bungalow that overlooked the glimmering harbor lights of Botafogo Bay.

“This is a friend’s place,” he explained. “We can’t go back to the hotel tonight. Santeras might look for you there.”

Randy found the wood-shake bungalow charming with its bougainvillea-wreathed arbors and breathtaking view. “Whose house is it?” she asked.

Geoff helped her off the bike and dismounted. “It belongs to a former customer, a wealthy American businessman, whose wife and daughter were taken hostage during a military coup in Guatemala. My partners and I got them out.”

“Really?” She eyed him with a skeptical smile. “You never mentioned this place while I was haggling with the reservations clerk for a room.”

Geoff snagged her hand and brought her along with him as he walked toward the hacienda’s entrance. “I wanted to see what you could do, tiger.”

If Randy was charmed by the outside of the house, she was enchanted by the inside. Golden wood tones dominated, warming couches done in dusty-rose chintz and maple curios stocked with china. The wall overlooking the bay was a long curve of glass with a breathtaking view that was totally unobstructed, even by the terrace, which was a flight of stairs below.

She stood at the window, hugging Geoff’s shirt around her and gazing down at the twinkling necklace of lights that outlined the harbor. She’d seen postcards of a similar view, but none of them had done it justice. It was almost too lovely to take in.