Cold in the Shadows 5 (19 page)

“She’ll be taken care of. She’s probably already dead.” The Colombian tried to sound nonchalant, but he heard the edge of uncertainty.

“The stakes are too high to make assumptions.” He calmed himself before he continued. “Hear me, friend, and hear me well. No product moves
anywhere
until this thing is finished. Understand me?”

“I understand,
amigo
. Don’t worry. I understand.” Gómez finally had a note of urgency in his voice.

“Send a helicopter to see whether or not your men failed you.” He allowed a beat of silence to follow his order. “And if they did, they die. Every single one of them.”

*     *     *

A
UDREY STOOD QUIETLY
and listened to Killion on the cell phone. She heard him talking about the house they’d just left and then a cryptic “she is.”

She is what? Clueless? Terrified? Oblivious?

After a few moments he hung up, tossed the cell on a small shelf. A decidedly unhappy expression twisted his features. He had just killed
four
people. She’d have been worried if he’d been jolly and smiling.

She hadn’t thought he’d noticed her until his hand went to his pistol and he turned and looked her straight in the eye without any outward sign of surprise. But then it would take a lot to surprise a man who relied on his wits to survive.

“She is what?” she asked.

His face crinkled in a smile though his eyes didn’t change. “Innocent.”

They locked gazes. “Do you have any idea how they tracked us down?”

“Not yet,” he said.

“It might have been my fault.” She chewed her lip and clasped her hands together. “I tried to call for help when I took your phone yesterday. Could someone have traced those calls?”

He tilted his head to the side. “None of this is your fault.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to disguise her shaking limbs. Despite the near scalding temperature of the shower she couldn’t get warm.

“But maybe they traced the signal.”

“They didn’t trace the signal. This isn’t your fault,” he repeated.

“How do you know that? Yesterday you thought I’d murdered someone. I must have done something, somewhere to make you and the cartel think that.”

“Someone left enough crumbs of evidence to persuade me you were the killer I was searching for. But once I caught up with you they didn’t want you alive to defend yourself. They sent a cartel hit man to shut you up. But rather than dying like a good little girl, you killed their chief enforcer.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, “I know it was self-defense, but in their eyes you made them look like idiots and believe it or not, leaders of drug cartels can’t afford to look weak or stupid in front of their competitors.”

He was right. No way would the cartel ever let her get away with what she’d done. They’d hunt her to the ends of the earth. Maybe Antarctica would be safe, but there weren’t exactly many amphibians on that continent.

Her life had been turned upside down with no warning, and no grand announcement. Just BOOM! Now she had to adapt and survive, or roll over and die. She wasn’t ready to roll over and die, not yet. The fact Killion seemed to take the loss of life for granted made her wonder how many of these situations he’d faced over the years.

His job was dangerous. Who could live like that? Who would want to?

She pulled the white and burgundy plaid shirt tight across her chest. Beneath it she wore a man’s baggy gray tee and a pair of worn denim shorts, which she cinched around her waist with a leather belt she’d found in a locker beside a narrow cot. She tried not to think about whether or not she was wearing a dead man’s clothes. It was irrelevant. She couldn’t wander around naked no matter how much Killion might approve.

There was sympathy in Killion’s eyes as he watched her, but also a measure of male appreciation. Did he find her genuinely attractive or did he just want to get laid because adrenaline was running high? Why was she even thinking about that?—Except it was better than remembering someone had not long ago pointed a gun at her and pulled the trigger. Instead of her dying, he’d had his head blown off.

She nodded toward the phone. “Do you trust your contacts at the CIA?”

“I’m not working for the CIA on this one.” His gaze held hers. It was more than he usually admitted. “And yes, I trust them. Frankly, we don’t have much choice.”

That answer made another shiver crawl up her spine. “So what’s the plan?”

He pointed at a rack on one side of the cabin. “See if you can find any charts of the area. I’ve got a good idea on how to drive this thing, but we need to know of any hazards in the water, any rocks or reefs. And figure out a good spot to anchor when we need to sleep. I’ll set a course straight north for now. The water’s deep around here so hopefully we won’t hit anything.”

Grateful to be given a real job to do, she went to the table where a map was already spread out. She stuck her finger on the small dot in the top right-hand corner in the middle of a huge expanse of blue sea. “This is the island we were on?”

“Yeah.”

It was tiny. How had someone tracked them down? It couldn’t be random.

“Look for charts north, north-east of that one. We’re going to head to Jamaica and from there back into the States.”

“Won’t I be arrested at the border?”

“Audrey Lockhart would be arrested on the spot. You won’t be Audrey Lockhart.”

“And the fake ID will hold, even through customs?”

“If it doesn’t we have a lot more to worry about than drug cartels. It’ll hold.”

She nodded slowly. If he was wrong they were already dead.

The idea of traveling under a false identity scared the crap out of her. Killion was probably used to it. “Killion” probably wasn’t even his real name. That made her feel cheated somehow. Now wasn’t the time to worry about this. Now was the time to prove she was good for more than being the sparkly assistant who distracted the crowd. She was smart and a team player, more than capable of contributing to their quest for survival.

She tipped large scrolls of paper out of metal canisters. She discarded one after the other and finally found the charts they needed by figuring out the matching lines of longitude and latitude. She waved him over and pointed at the map. “It would be shorter to head to the mainland.”

Killion grunted. “Except Honduras and Nicaragua aren’t particularly happy to accommodate the needs of the CIA, and they’d probably stuff you in jail for a year before they decided on whether or not to send you back to Colombia.”

“By which time Gómez would find me and arrange a little prison fight where the stupid white girl gets shivved.”

He raised a brow. “You catch on fast.”

“I watch a lot of TV.” She rubbed the goose bumps from her arms. “Do my parents know I’m wanted for murder?” The thought made the slight ache around her heart burn. How would they cope with this extra pressure? They had enough worries.

He took her by the shoulders and when she looked into his eyes, she found the craziness making sense in a way she didn’t want it to.

“As much as I’d like to, I can’t turn back the clock, but I can help make it right. It just might take a bit of time to figure out who is behind this, and out how to get the cartel off your back. Trust me.” He tipped her chin up and stared down into her eyes.

What was he trying to distract her from this time?

“You say that a lot, you know.”

He frowned. “What?”

“‘Trust me.’” Her fingers tingled with the need to touch him. “It’s usually a sign of deception.”

His eyes twinkled. “Is it?”

“Usually, yes.” She didn’t think she’d ever been this physically attracted to a man as she was toward this one. She tried to move away, but he shadowed her until her back was pressed against the corkboard.

He moved a strand of her hair off her forehead and his voice dropped lower. “You don’t
have
to trust me.”

“I know.” The constriction in her throat was back and her heart began beating so hard she was sure he could hear it. Her words came out in a whisper. “But for some inexplicable reason I do.”

His eyes darkened and his gaze drifted over her lips, which parted.

“You want me to kiss you,” he said in surprise.

A small laugh burst out and she rested her hands on his chest. “
You
want to kiss me.”

“I’d be a fool not to.”

“So do it.” She held her breath.

“I’d be more of a fool if I did.” His cheek buzzed hers and a shiver curled her toes.

“Since when did that stop you?” she said.

She felt his lips curve against her cheek. “Okay then.” He touched his lips to hers, keeping the kiss closed-mouthed and chaste, more an exploratory touch than a real kiss.

Rules didn’t seem to apply to his job, but she’d bet kissing someone in his custody probably crossed the line and broke a few rules. Considering what had happened to her life it seemed only fair to stir things up even just a little bit. She was a frog biologist, he was a CIA operative, but in this one thing they were equal.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, inhaling the masculine scent of him. She licked along the seam of his lips and felt his resistance melt away as he opened for her, letting her control this particular adventure.

She sank her fingers into his overlong hair, loving the texture of it. She moaned softly, stretching her body against all those hard muscles, feeling his arousal against her stomach and reveling in the fact she’d done that to him. She’d turned him on and she wasn’t even naked.

Then something changed.

The air sizzled, the oxygen evaporated and it was suddenly difficult to breathe. What had started slow and languorous, exploded. He angled his mouth over hers, and started kissing her like he was starving, striving to get as close as physically possible. Her blood heated. The needy ache grew until she just wanted him inside her, right now, as fast as humanly possible. No foreplay, no teasing.

He dragged the shirt she wore low enough to expose her breast, and raised her taut nipple to his mouth. The sensation of his teeth on her flesh almost made her knees give out. Her fingers bit into his shoulders.

He blew cool air over the tight rosy peak and she was instantly wet. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His voice was gruff. He didn’t give her time to respond, just switched his attention to her other breast while she tipped her head back against the board at her back and sank her fingers into his hair, holding him to her. Desire shot from her nipples to the apex of her thighs. Apparently Patrick Killion knew exactly how to deliver on all those arrogant promises and heated looks.

She gasped as his teeth nipped just a little. Oh, God, that felt good.

The sight of his blond head against her flushed skin was erotically beautiful. Desire consumed her. She couldn’t remember a time when she wanted anything more than to have this man sink deep inside her.

The thought had her pressing her thighs together as a shiver of anticipation shot through her core. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to have sex with a man who until a few hours ago had thought she was a cold-blooded killer?

God, she hoped so.

For the last few days her life had sucked, and escaping that reality even for ten minutes would be a welcome relief.

He licked and nibbled his way back to her mouth. She ran her hands over his flat stomach, and downwards over his shorts, stroking the hard length of his arousal that pressed against her stomach. Touching him made her desire grow stronger. She wanted to examine every inch of him, but he reclaimed her lips and kissed her some more. His arms tightened around her and she found herself lifted and pressed up against the wall, his thighs wedging themselves between hers.

“Ouch,” she squeaked into his mouth.

He pulled back in alarm and then blinked as if he’d forgotten where he was. She would have been gratified by his obvious concern, but she didn’t like the way he quickly disengaged their bodies and let her slide to the floor.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

She put her hand on the side of his face and turned him to look at her. “No. It’s okay, there was just a twinge in my side.”

“Shit.” He dragged up her shirt, but not in a way that screamed “I want you naked so I can take you fast and hard against the wall.”

Once he reassured himself she wasn’t bleeding, he stepped back and she let out a frustrated breath.

He dragged his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I did that. Your life’s a mess and you’re still recovering from being stabbed.”

She snorted at his lack of tact.

But he wasn’t amused. He swore and moved away to stand beside the wheel. The look on his face screamed remorse and the death of desire.

She cleared her throat as she straightened her clothes. “It’s okay, Patrick. My ‘seduction games’ are pretty hard to resist.” Mortification at being so thoroughly rejected when she so obviously wanted to screw out his brains crept in. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Stop.” He pointed his finger at her but refused to actually turn around and look at her. “You’ve been attacked multiple times and barely managed to survive. Finding an outlet for all that adrenaline is a natural part of the process.
I’m
the one taking advantage.”

“Well, I was enjoying you taking advantage.”

He glanced at her and his mouth twisted with regret.

A horrible thought shot through her. “Is there someone waiting for you back home?” Why hadn’t she thought about that before she’d gone after him like a rabid beast? Why wouldn’t he have a secret wife and kids back home?

He shook his head. “There isn’t anyone—”

“But you’d say that anyway, to protect them—”

“Yes.” His eyes looked a little wild. “Yes, I would. But I wouldn’t be desperate to nail you against the wall if I was married!”

Her lips parted at the revelation. “Then what’s the problem?” she asked slowly.

His eyes widened and, for a moment, she thought he was going to take her up on her obvious invitation. Instead he scrubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath. “There are things I haven’t told you.”