Danger Close (The Echo Platoon Series, Book 1) (11 page)

"Tell me what happened today," he exhorted.

Maybe she was dreaming him. That was all she seemed to do lately. She couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that he was here in the flesh, in a place where she'd never expected him to be, regarding her with concern. Part of her longed to share her terrifying experience, but she couldn't. Sam would have her packing and on a plane headed for home by sunrise tomorrow.

"Nothing," she said with a shrug.

"You found the body of the guard at the lab," he stated.

"Right. But nothing else happened." She winced the instant the words passed through her lips because they so obviously sounded like a lie.

He cocked his head a second time, suspicion brightening his eyes. "You saw the men who killed him," he immediately guessed.

Maddy shook her head. "No." She forced the denial past her tongue.

He stepped closer, using his height and breadth to impose his will on her. "Were they foreign soldiers?" he interrogated, ignoring her denial. "Lebanese, maybe?"

Surely he could see the pulse galloping at the base of her throat. "I don't know. I never saw them," she insisted.

"Then why are you so terrified right now?"

"I'm fine." She cast a longing glance at the bottle of rum. Maybe another shot or two or three would convince her of that.

"Maddy." Sam's large hands rose without warning to capture her face between his large, warm palms. A frisson of awareness arced clear to her toes. "Those men have been identified as terrorists. If you know anything about them, anything at all, we could use that information."

"That's why you're here," she realized, putting two and two together. He hadn't chased her to the Southern Hemisphere just to be close to her again. Of course, not. Why would she even think that when he'd left her home in McLean without so much as a fare-thee-well?

He released her with a grimace of annoyance. "I can't talk about that," he told her flatly. "Our presence here is top secret. No one is supposed to know, not even you. Promise me." He held up a warning finger.

Maddy glared at it. She hated when he pointed his finger at her. "I know how to keep secrets," she averred, flinching inwardly as she realized she was keeping one from him now.

Doubt reared its grizzly head. If the Lebanese soldiers were terrorists, then shouldn't she tell Sam everything she knew? But then she would have to admit that her life had been threatened, and Sam would insist that she leave the country.

Besides, what could she tell him that might possibly be useful?

He flipped his wrist over to glance at his watch. "I have to be going," he said. Looking back at her, his gaze centered on her mouth.

Craving a kiss, Maddy touched her tongue to her parched lips. "I can't believe you're here," she marveled. "It's almost like you're following me," she added, laughing self-consciously at her wishful thinking.

"Pretty amazing coincidence," he agreed. Cynicism curled the edges of his upper lip. "I'm not supposed to have contact with any civilians in the area," he added, putting a damper on her expectations.

"Oh." Her giddiness evaporated. "I see." He would leave without another backward glance, just like the last time.

But he didn't. Instead, he stood there taking her in with such brooding intensity that it dawned on her that he didn't really want to leave. The pleasure that bloomed from that realization emboldened her. Seizing the front of his BDU jacket, she jerked him closer and stole the kiss she'd been craving.

The feel of Sam's supple lips made her groan in remembered pleasure. He responded with initial restraint, his body tense with self-control. But then his control crumbled suddenly, dissolving into an avalanche of desire as he palmed her head, cupped the curve of her bottom and plundered her mouth like a man starved for the taste of her.

Behind closed eyelids, Maddy's world tipped off its axis. A shimmering heat spread to her extremities. She could feel Sam's heart thudding beneath her palm, his sex swelling against her hip. Would he stop? Did she even want him to?

Then, with a frustrated growl, he raised his head and gazed at her from beneath hooded eyes. Breathing harshly, he brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb and reluctantly released her.

"Stay out of trouble," he ordered, turning to the door. He flicked off the light before stepping through it—to keep anyone outside from seeing him, she realized—and shut the door firmly behind him.

Maddy released a whimper as her expectations drained abruptly away, leaving her feeling deprived. She drifted to the door, locked and bolted it, and then went to peek through her kitchen window, hoping to catch another glimpse of Sam, but he had disappeared. There was nothing to see except the sandy front yard, a scraggly cactus plant, and an empty street. Would he even come back? she wondered, or would he keep away like he said he had to?

She reached for the bottle of rum and tossed back one more swig. One thing she was grateful for, she wasn't so terrified anymore. By some miracle, Sam Sasseville, her unlikely guardian angel, had followed her to Paraguay. And oddly enough, his assignment was to get those men who'd almost killed her today—the men who had murdered Enrique and terrorized her.

Once they were dealt with, Maddy wouldn't have to worry that the leader might change his mind and come looking for her. God, she hoped Sam and his SEALs dispatched those men quickly!

Putting the bottle away, she retreated to her bathroom to prepare for bed. As she laid her head on her pillow minutes later, she prayed she would dream of Sam and not the Lebanese leader with the blue-green eyes.

Chapter 6

Maddy cast Ricardo a puzzled glance as he drove them from the Guaraní village back toward the lab. "How do you even know Sam?" she asked him.

Dark eyes flickered her way. "Who?"

"Lieutenant Sasseville. He's a friend of mine. How do you know him?"

"Oh, him." Ricardo shrugged his shoulders, staring straight ahead. "You mentioned once that he saved your father's life."

The wind whistling through the Jeep's lowered window sent her hair into her eyes. "He said he spoke to you last night," she relayed.

"Hmm. We must have run into each other at the Cantina. I stopped by for a drink."

"Oh." The bar Ricardo referred to was the only place for drinks in Mariscal Estigarribia. She supposed Sam might have run into Ricardo there, but his kiss hadn't tasted of beer or liquor. If he'd gone there at all, he hadn't had a drink. Maddy surrendered the mystery with a shrug and changed subjects. "Do you think that cow died from toxins in the river?" she queried.

The dead cow had been the topic of conversation among the indigenous villagers who relied on the Pilcomayo River for their drinking water as well as to water their livestock. Her gaze traveled past Ricardo's profile to the red and white striped oil well raking the blue sky. "That oil well there can't be more than two miles from the village."

Ricardo didn't take his eyes off the rutted dirt road. "No way," he replied. "The alkalinity and the pH are both within normal range, and we haven't come across any significant hydrocarbons."

Maddy's gaze remained fixed on the spire of the closest oil well. There were two dozen more in El Gran Chaco that she couldn't see. "So you don't think the wells contaminate the environment," she concluded. "And there's no link between the dead cow and the locals complaining of gastro-intestinal trouble and dizziness?" Half the older population at the Guaraní village had mentioned similar symptoms in the last month.

"From the tests we've performed, that doesn't appear to be the case," Ricardo answered smoothly. "The river water is clean."

So the tests suggested, but Maddy remained skeptical. The wells had to be impacting the environment somehow; it was merely a matter of determining where and how.

"What about the water in the Poseidon ponds?" she demanded, referring to the enormous reservoirs dug throughout the region. Water, siphoned from the ponds, was mixed with sand and chemicals and injected under pressure into the shale deep beneath the ground to break it apart, releasing the oil and gas trapped beneath the earth. It was then then collected, refined, and shipped off to market. "Where does it come from?" she demanded.

Just then an 18-wheeler rumbled toward them, kicking up dust as it beat the worn road. "They truck it in," Ricardo said, pointing to the approaching tanker truck.

"You sure about that?" Maddy asked, studying the approaching vehicle. "It takes four hundred tanker trucks to supply one well with what it needs. You saw how low the Pilcomayo River is running."

Ricardo flicked her wry glance. "What are you saying?" He had to shout to be heard over the truck as it barreled past. "Scott Oil upholds the highest standards. I thought that was the reason you work for GEF—to prove to the world that your father's company is harmless."

Maddy snatched the hair out of her eyes. "You know who my father is?" she asked in astonishment.

He shrugged. "It's hardly a secret. You share the same last name. Plus, I saw his photo on the company website. You have the same stubborn chin."

Irritation fizzed in Maddy's veins. Would she never get out from under her father's shadow? "It's not his company anymore," she bit out. "My father stepped down as CEO so he can run for the Senate."

"Ah," said Ricardo with a dubious nod.

Maddy frowned at him. "And I am
not
here to make Scott Oil Corporation look good. My mother opposed these wells from the moment my father started prospecting in this part of the world. She would never have tolerated contaminants leaking from the waste barrels and containment walls and getting into the river, and neither will I, if I find out that's what's happening."

Ricardo's lips twitched as if he were fighting the urge to smile. "And what are you going to do about it if your father's not the CEO?" he demanded. "All GEF can do is publish reports and make recommendations."

"I'll tell my father to pass stricter laws," she shot back.

"American law has no authority in Paraguay," Ricardo pointed out.

Maddy crossed her arms under her breasts and scowled. Ricardo's assertions were accurate, unfortunately. Had her father secured her this job with GEF because he wanted her to make Scott Oil look good? Why, if he wasn't the CEO anymore?

"Look," Ricardo said, extending her an olive branch, "the way I see it, Scott Oil improves the economy more than it harms the environment. Have we seen radioactive material in the river? No, but the economy is thriving, people needing jobs are finding them, and industries are burning cleaner energy. It's all good," he asserted with a shrug.

Maddy cut him a suspicious look. "You don't talk like an environmentalist," she accused.

He chuckled, unoffended by her words. "That's because I'm a realist first," he replied. His smile of amusement slowly faded. "What's this?" he muttered, applying the brakes abruptly and jerking Maddy's attention to the cargo truck cutting them off as it swung onto the road in front of them.

The dreaded sight of men in olive-colored uniforms sent Maddy's heart jumping up her throat. Beards darkened the lower halves of a dozen faces peering out of the back of the truck. Resentful eyes stared back at Ricardo and Maddy as the cargo truck gained speed and pulled away.

Ricardo brought their Jeep to a standstill while Maddy fought her shock at coming across the terrorists so unexpectedly. She thought she'd recognized a face or two amidst the men piled into the back. Relieved by their departure, she turned her head to find her colleague eyeing the grove of
quebracho
trees out of which the truck had emerged. A rutted road disappeared between the tall trunks.

Wordlessly, Ricardo turned the Jeep off the main road onto the rutted track.

"Where are we going?" Maddy asked, fearful of coming across more terrorists.

"I want to see what they were doing."

The trees thinned, and they found themselves looking at a half-constructed oil well. Its unfinished tower rose some thirty feet into the air where a jagged spire seemed to tear at the blue canvas of the sky. Ricardo slid the gear shift into park and killed the engine. Maddy swallowed nervously.

"Stay here," he said, taking off his seatbelt. He leaned across her knees to pull his pistol out of the glove compartment.