Cherry Adair - T-flac 03 (6 page)

"Hmm. Little thing like that can make a big hole."

"Don't tempt me." Six shots would clean up his attitude quite nicely. "I'm not in the least bit afraid to shoot you. In fact, I'm sure I'll enjoy it."

"Ever shot anyone before?"

"No. But there's always the thrill of the first time," she lobbed back sweetly, her hand sweaty on the grip.

Acid churned in her stomach.

His sigh caressed her forehead. "Then I guess since you've shown me yours…" Delanie heard the rustle of his clothing. "I'll show you mine." She felt the cold caress of hard steel against her temple. "And mine's
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bigger than yours. Sorry, honey, you'll have to put away your toy and play the game my way."

Her heart beat so fast it made her light-headed and blurred her vision. Mouth dry, palms wet, the sweat on her body turned to ice. She might not be able to see him, but she could feel the antagonism radiating from his body. She could only draw shallow staccato breaths at the sensation of that deadly, round black hole against her pulse.

God,
could
he kill her? The answer throbbed on the next heartbeat. Yes. This Kyle Wright was quite capable of pulling the trigger. She'd seen it in his eyes this afternoon. The answer was in his voice now.

He didn't want her here.

Lauren will be lost forever if I'm dead. How would Mom and the others cope?

Instinct whispered he wouldn't do it now. Not in the dark where soldiers would return fire before asking questions. She hoped.

Coolly, she reached up and shoved the barrel away from her temple with her open palm, then crouched down to scoop up the tampons. "You really bring out the worst in me, Wright." She jammed the Tampax, packed around the little silver gun, into the squished-up box.

She wished he'd disappear. She wished he'd—The question she should be asking herself was, could
she
shoot
him
if he interfered with her search for Lauren?

"There." Delanie stood defiantly, not answering her own question. She pushed the box down the back of her leggings. "Happy now?"

"You have no idea," Kyle said dryly. She heard him put his own weapon away.

"Well, entertaining as this has been, I'm too tired to play cowboys and Indians. I'm going to bed," she managed carelessly, even as her body still pulsed with residual adrenaline. Her stomach burned, and she dug an antacid out of her shirt pocket, chewing it quickly. The breeze, while warm, felt chilly through her damp shirt. She shivered, turning blindly toward the house, her hand pressed to her midriff.

She should have known better than to try walking away. Gripping her elbow, Kyle firmly and inexorably herded her away from the house and across the pitch-blackness of the patio.

She pulled against his implacable hold. When his fingers tightened, she demanded, "Do you mind telling me where you think you're dragging me off to?"

He must have eyes like a cat. She couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. She glared up at the cloud-covered sky—The moon had shone very nicely for her earlier. She put up a token resistance, but allowed him to steer her to a lounge chair.

"Right here. For now."

She dropped onto the chaise, smelling the chlorine of the nearby pool and a subtle masculine aroma that was tantalizingly familiar as Kyle sat beside her.

Close, too damn close. Delanie could just see the gleam of his eyes in the darkness and feel the press of his knee against her thigh.

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"Why do you think Montero offered to let us renew our acquaintance?"

"I don't have the foggiest idea." Delanie sounded as surly as she felt, and that was pretty darn surly.

"Since it isn't going to happen, I don't really care one way or the other. But if I
had
thought about it, I'd guess it'd be a test to see how loyal to him we both are."

"Good guess, but not in this case."

"And I suppose you're just dying to enlighten me." A warm breeze caressed her cheeks; it smelled of green things and danger. Exhaustion dragged at her. Abject terror and sleeping with one eye open for nights on end did that to a girl. She leaned back against the soft cushions, yearning to close her eyes.

Obviously she dared not. Her biggest danger at the moment was sitting right here with her.

He shifted, his voice coming to her out of the dark, curling around her like smoke. "He wants to make damn sure I'm happy."

"There, see. Someone cares."

"Because," Kyle's voice was hard, and she could feel him watching her in the dark, "if I'm not happy, I walk. If I walk, I take my contribution with me."

Unless it had something to do with Lauren, she didn't care who did what to whom.

There was a lengthy pause. "You heard what we were discussing at dinner. You know what he's—"

Her eyes shot open. "Don't you get it? I don't give a rat's patoot
what's
going on between you and Ramon." After the first few minutes she hadn't bothered to listen to a word the men had said at dinner.

She'd been too busy trying to decide, on her mental grid, which area she was going to search later. "I have my
own
damn problems, Kyle. Just tell me what you have to tell me so I can drag myself off to bed."

"One way off this mountain is with Montero's say-so. The alternative is a damn sight less pleasant than a short, voluntary helicopter ride."

Considering she hated to fly that wasn't saying much. Besides she'd already figured that out for herself.

There was a long, pregnant pause. An animal growled in the distance, the sound carrying clearly on the still night air. Nothing she'd heard tonight at dinner had really surprised her. She'd been aware Montero was a drug lord, or whatever they were called these days, and that he laundered money through the casino. She hadn't cared. He'd pay for that, just as he'd pay for whatever he had done with Lauren.

She shrugged. "What's
your
contribution to all this mayhem and murder?"

"Among other things," Kyle said with quiet menace, "I'm the one Ramon trusts enough to off the president."

"Of America?" Delanie asked, horrified.

"The president of San Cristobal. For God's sake. Weren't you listening at dinner?" Silence throbbed, then his voice came out of the darkness and he said flatly, "I'm the designated assassin."

She'd been thinking about the ramifications of Kyle's presence here and about her sister. She'd asked
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questions that both men had naturally ignored. Not that Delanie expected them to fill her in.

Their casual mention of labs and biohazard suits was alarming to say the least. She didn't remember hearing anything about an assassination.

Her necklace threatened to cut off her air at his words. "You're an
assassin
?" She stared at him, sick.

"So much for your
hypocrite
oath. You told me you were a doctor. Was that a lie, too? Were you…

when we
met
… were you doing
this
?"

"Amongst other things. Now," he said, almost gently, "would you like to reconsider my offer of a ride into San Cristobal tomorrow?"

"No. Your Mission Impossible has nothing to do with me." She was rapidly losing her bravado and had to swallow the metallic taste in her mouth.

Oh God, oh God. Please. I want to get the hell out of Dodge. Where
are
you, little sister?

"You're mine to do with as I please," he told her coldly. "I can hurt you. Never doubt that for a minute."

Unfolding her cramping legs, she stood. "You couldn't hurt me, Kyle, no matter what you did."

"Why? Do you think I'd draw the line at breaking someone smaller and softer than I am? Consider my profession." He rose. "I know as many pain centers as I do pleasure points. Willing to give it another crack?"

His shirt brushed against her chest, but Delanie stood her ground. "Let's just say you've given it your best shot and let it go at that, shall we?" She spun on her heel, headed for the house. What she needed was a cool shower, lots of soap, and breathing space. Haifa bottle of antacid. And a new plan.

What she got was a dizzying spin into Kyle's arms. "Damn you," he snarled against her mouth.

"Don't you dare—"

He dared.

Trapped against his chest, she tried to shove his bulk away. His hold was unbreakable. No preliminaries, no feeling his way, no Mother-may-I? Just a lip lock as he held her face between his hands and kissed her deeply; a starving man graced with a banquet.

His taste and texture were hauntingly familiar, sending sharp, poignant longing to her breasts and groin.

And a red alert to her brain. She kept her arms at her sides, but couldn't prevent swaying against him in the pitch darkness. The sounds of the jungle beyond the fence intensified the aura of steamy mystery, leaving only the sensation of touch, taste, and the intoxicating scent of him to fill her senses.

Oh, God. She knew better. She really did.

She'd known from the first moment she'd met Kyle Wright that he'd hurt her in ways she'd never been hurt before. Known within minutes what drove the women of her family like lemmings to the sea. Known the wild sense of addiction. Need.

Known then, as she did now, that she had no defenses against him. There was no way on earth she
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could protect herself from a man this compelling. This powerful. This tempting.

And she'd been right.

Which is why she'd planned to leave him sleeping in their sex-rumpled bed in the middle of the night four years ago. Only to find he'd beaten her to the punch and left her first.

It was a good thing she was immunized, Delanie thought vaguely as Kyle's large hands tunneled through her sweat-dampened hair to cup her head. He stroked her cheek with his thumbs as his tongue plunged and stroked. A soft moan broke free when he sucked her tongue, and she opened her mouth wider to receive him.

She ignored the now muted warning sirens as another shock of desire darted through her. Her legs went wobbly and she stood on tiptoe to slide her arms around his neck. The kiss was long and deep. The rhythm drugging.

Lips wet and swollen, she felt both stunned and disoriented when he finally held her away from the furnace heat of his body. It was as sudden as being taken off life-support without notice.

"What… ?"

"Go in the house and pack." His voice sounded raw. "We leave first thing in the morning."

"Don't I wish," Delanie muttered under her breath, too softly for him to hear. Blindly, she walked in the direction of the largest dark shadow, hoping it would turn out to be the house. Her lips tingled as blood rushed through compressed nerve endings and her nipples went from engorged to soft beneath her shirt.

Somehow she found her way to her room, not bothering to turn on the light. Her breath wheezed in and out, as labored as if she'd only now finished her run.

She shouldn't have let him kiss her. What on earth had she been thinking? She stripped off the long-sleeved shirt and tossed it in the general direction of the chair, then toed off her running shoes.

Okay, so Kyle Wright was just as potent now as he'd been four years ago. He was a good kisser. So what? There wasn't a law saying a murderer couldn't have a good technique. She wasn't that naive. Not only was Kyle the wrong man, but this was definitely the wrong time and the wrong place for anything even resembling attraction. She resented the hell out of her body's betrayal. If ever there was a man to be afraid of, Kyle Wright was it.

She finished stripping off her clothes and made straight for the shower, feeling better after she'd washed off the scent of a man she'd believed she'd forgotten. She walked back into the bedroom rubbing her hair dry with a towel. She'd find her sister, then they'd
both
leave. Until then, she'd do whatever necessary to avoid Kyle. If she had to hide out tomorrow until he left Izquierdo, so be it. She was
not
leaving without Lauren.

A half second later she realized her problems were far more immediate. Ramon and Bruno had entered her room while she'd been in the bathroom and stood waiting for her.

Ramon's flat perusal skimmed neutrally over her naked body as she unhurriedly snagged her robe off the back of the bathroom door. The silk clung uncomfortably to her damp skin. "Goodness, you gave me a fright." She casually tied the sash at her waist. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

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Let me count the ways
, she thought dryly, trying to figure out Montero's agenda from his expression.

Although she and Ramon always had connecting rooms, he'd never so much as put a foot in her bedroom until tonight. She glanced from one man to the other.

"Did you forget, little dove, this is my house?"

"No, of course not." Delanie unwound the towel from around her head and finger combed her wet hair before crossing to the dressing table for her silver-backed brush. It was gone. Punishment for some infraction?

Her eyes skimmed from the neat dressing table to the empty closet, doors still open. Apparently the longest day of her life was about to get even longer.

She watched his reflection in the mirror as he sat down on the foot of her bed, Bruno a sentinel at his side. The bodyguard held a flame to the cigar Montero withdrew. For several seconds there was silence.

Mesmerized by the glowing tip of the cigar, she couldn't help the tremor that swept across her skin. She had no idea what he wanted tonight. But she just bet, whatever it was, she was going to hate it.

"Did you enjoy your run tonight, my dove?" Ramon asked.

"Oh, yeah." Her heart did a double thump as she turned around to face him. "It was great. In fact, I managed to run twice as far as I did last night." She had to be sure he was convinced she loved to jog. It was the only time to search for Lauren without having everybody's eyes on her.