Dangerous Desires (21 page)

“Sounds like a plan.” She tried for a smile, but couldn’t quite muster it.

“Look, we’re going to be okay. We’ve made it this far. All we have to do now is keep our eyes open and make sure the safe house lives up to its name.”

“Is it really a house?” she asked, glancing at the huts
and shacks starting to pop up in the dusk as they walked along. So far they hadn’t encountered any inhabitants, but the wisps of smoke curling from the rooftops indicated that someone at least was inside.

“More of a cottage, I suppose. A hacienda. It’s situated in the center of town, which makes it an unlikely choice for our purposes.”

“Like hiding in plain sight?”

“That’s the general idea, yeah.”

They turned onto a graveled street, the houses beginning to look a little less ramshackle, some of them painted bright colors, the pink and yellow standing out against the lush greenery and bright red of bougainvillea and bromeliads.

A woman sat on a blanket at the corner, baskets piled around her. She smiled as they passed, the smooth lines of her face reflecting both her South American and African heritages. A block farther on, they’d moved into the center of the village, an open-air market filling the central square. Brightly patterned clothes and mouth-wateringly fresh foods filled the stalls, and it was everything Madeline could do to resist running across the street and buying everything in sight.

As if recognizing the train of her thoughts, Drake’s hand tightened on her arm. “It’s not much farther now,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Try to look like a tourist.”

“A tourist stranded in the jungle, maybe.” She swallowed a bubble of laughter, relief making her giddy as she tried to imagine what she must look like.

“This is it.” He nodded at an ochre-colored building. The front yard was full of swaying palms, flowers blooming in the gardens that bordered steps leading to
an internal courtyard. A fountain gurgled, the heady fragrance of hibiscus filling the air.

“It’s beautiful,” Madeline whispered, her eyes feasting on the riot of color and smell. “Like paradise before the fall.”

“Literally,” Drake said, as he pushed aside a decorative tile to reveal a keypad. He punched in a number and the lock clicked open. “Wait here.” He pulled his gun, his face hardening as he pushed open the door and swung over the threshold.

Madeline stood, frozen to the spot, her breathing shallow, as her hands closed around her own gun. The breeze ruffled through the little garden, and she strained into the silence for some sound to indicate that Drake was all right.

Emotion surged as she fought against memories of the past few days. So much had happened. They’d even established a fragile sense of trust. Madeline closed her eyes, reliving the feel of Drake’s mouth against hers, their tongues dueling, bodies throbbing with desire. She shivered, the involuntary movement having nothing whatsoever to do with fear.

It would be so wonderful to let down her guard. To open her heart just a little. Surely there was nothing wrong with grabbing happiness, even if it was only for a night.

Life was to be lived in the moment.

And there had never been more reason to celebrate than their safe arrival in Puerto Remo. Tomorrow was another day. She’d deal with it when it came.

And in the meantime…

She smiled as Drake beckoned from the doorway.

*   *   *

Drake walked down the hallway toward the living room, noting that the door to Madeline’s bathroom was still closed. She’d made a beeline to the bathtub, stopping only long enough for him to reassure her that for the time being at least they were safe.

He could hear her humming, and his brain immediately projected an image of her naked in the tub, the soap sliding down her body, over her breasts and between her legs. His body tightened and he took a step toward the door. It was tempting to join her, to finish what they’d started in the jungle. But there were more important things at stake. And for the moment at least he had business to tend to.

He walked into the main room and knelt in front of the vent—using his knife to work the grate off. Inside, as expected, he found a wrapped package containing a secure satellite phone and an extra handgun with ammo. There was also several thousand dollars. He tossed the money and gun onto a table.

After checking to make certain Madeline was still in the bath, he walked into his bedroom, closed the door, and dialed Nash’s number. The phone rang twice then flipped over to voice mail. With a muttered curse he left a message and headed across the room to his bathroom and a shower. His wound, though not dangerous, was starting to throb, and infection was always a risk.

Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his head with a towel. God, it felt good to be clean. He grabbed the phone, dialing Nash again. This time the phone picked up on the first ring.

“Where the hell have you been?” Nash barked. “I’ve been calling you back every couple of minutes.”

“Sorry,” Drake said, dropping down to sit on the end of the bed. “I needed a shower.”

“Where are you?” Drake could hear the relief in his friend’s voice.

“We just made Puerto Remo. Had a little adventure on the way.”

“So you’ve got Madeline?” Nash queried. “Was she much of a problem?”

“Actually, she proved herself a hell of a traveling partner. Go figure. Anyway, we’re here and safe, but I wouldn’t count on it staying that way too long. We had a couple of run-ins with di Silva’s people. Although Madeline says it’s some guy named Ortiz pulling the strings. You ever heard of him?”

“Got a first name?”

“Hector. Came into the picture four, maybe five years ago.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell, but di Silva is notoriously secretive about his organization, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to have stayed under the radar. I’ll pass the info on to Avery. See what he can come up with.”

“Good. Maybe then we can figure out how these people always seem to find us.”

“You think maybe there’s a bug?”

“No. I checked. Madeline’s got a bag with her. But it’s clean. I’m pretty sure we’d know if it was on her. She’s definitely not playing on di Silva’s team. Besides, we killed a guy upriver who was carrying photographs.”

“Of Madeline?”

“And of me. An old photo taken at Sunderland.” He waited, letting the significance of his words sink in.

“Sounds like we’ve got a bigger problem than just di Silva.”

“Yeah, first Tyler’s gear is fucked up. And now this guy’s got a picture of me. Which means he knows we were behind the rescue.”

“And the only way he could have known that,” Nash continued the thought, “is if someone on the inside tipped him off.”

“Could have come from Langley,” Drake said. “Or from inside our operations. The whole team knew what we were up to. Including ancillary staff.”

“Avery and Tyler are working that angle. And until we can be sure what’s what, Avery decided we’d go eyes-only. Just him, Tyler, Annie, and me.”

“Annie?”

“Well, Tyler’s not exactly up to traveling.” It was Nash’s turn to pause.

“What the hell happened?”

“She’s fine. But she took a bullet at the ruins. It came really close to her heart. It was pretty dicey there for a while.”

“I saw the explosion. And the helicopter. At least I knew that some of you had gotten out. Jason okay?”

“Yeah, he’s good. Already back at Sunderland. Avery’s fine, too. He and Tyler flew home this morning. Anyway, with everything happening, we figured it was better to keep our little operation under the table, so to speak.”

“I’m assuming when you refer to ‘our operation’ you’re talking about me.”

“Yeah. And Madeline. We’re en route to you now. Annie and I.” Drake could hear her saying something to Nash. “Annie wants to know if you’re okay.”

“Took a bullet myself, but it was nothing. Just nicked my shoulder. More blood than bite. I’ll be fine.”

“What about Madeline?”

“Like I said, amazingly resilient.”

“I take it you’ve changed your opinion of her.”

He paused, surprised to find just how far he’d come. “She’s all right. The journey could have been a hell of a lot harder than it was. Like I said, she rose to every occasion. Even took out the guy I was telling you about.”

“The one with the pictures.”

“Yeah. Guy named Paolo Montague. You know him?”

“He’s a mercenary out of Portugal. Contracts worldwide. We have intel that indicates he’s working with di Silva, and I guess your run-in is confirmation.”

“Well, he’s not working for anyone anymore.”

“Was he alone?”

“As far as I could tell. He’d killed the guy who was staying at the outpost, but there’s no way they were together. Why?”

“Because we think there’s another mercenary working for di Silva. Alexander Petrov.”

“I’ve heard of him. A seriously bad hombre.”

“That’s what Avery said. Any sign of him?”

“We blew up a boatload of bastards about six miles upriver. Definitely di Silva’s men. Madeline recognized two of them. But I didn’t get a close look.”

“Well if Petrov is still out there he’s a dangerous man. And blowing up a boat is a hell of a calling card.”

“We didn’t have much choice. I disposed of Montague, though. And his victim. Figured it was better not to leave anything behind.”

“Well, that’s something. Anyway, just be careful.”

“So where the hell are you anyway?”

“On a boat out of Santiago. We took a transport out of Ecuador this morning. Bit of a circuitous route, but if someone’s watching we don’t want them to catch on to what we’re doing.”

“Which would be?”

“Sailing to your rescue. Although it doesn’t sound like you need the cavalry.”

“Well, I could use some help getting out of here.”

“That I can arrange. Avery’s got people on standby.”

“I thought this one was off the books.”

“It is. But Avery’s got friends in some pretty interesting places. People he trusts. And since I trust him—”

“Me, too. And I gotta tell you it’s good to hear your voice. When do you think you’ll be here?”

“Hopefully sometime tomorrow morning. Depends on if we encounter any problems coming in from international waters.”

“You expecting something?”

“No. But the Colombians can be a picky lot. Anyway, the guy who’s captaining is a national, so that should help. You’re at the safe house, right?”

“Yeah. We’ll stay put until you get here, unless something happens.”

“Just hang on to the sat phone,” Nash said. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You and me both, brother.”

“All right. We’ll see you in a few. Watch your back.”

“Roger that.” Drake smiled as he hung up, then sobered. The idea that someone within the CIA was jeopardizing their missions was hard to swallow. Especially
the idea that it was someone within A-Tac. But it was hard to ignore the rapidly expanding stack of evidence.

Anyway, for the moment, he needed to concentrate on keeping Madeline out of harm’s way. They could figure out the rest once they were safely out of Puerto Remo.

He walked into the hallway, noticing that Madeline’s bedroom door was ajar. He knocked and then called her name. But there was no answer. Frowning, he pushed open the door only to find the room empty. There was a towel on the bed, and some of her clothes wadded up on the floor.

Moving with stealth now, he crossed into the living room to pick up the gun on the table, noticing, when he did, that the money from the stash was gone. Damn it to hell.

The bitch had played him.

H
e tore for the front of the house cursing Madeline, himself, and womankind in general. He should have known better. A leopard never changed its spots. Hell, she’d probably made up all that stuff about the dead sister and the man she’d shot. Not to mention the abusive father.

Sympathy card—worked every time.

He’d never learn.

Yanking the heavy door open, he tried to calculate where exactly she’d have tried to run, and skidded to a stop. The tiny courtyard was full of light, candles glowing everywhere—like little pinpricks in the velvet darkness.

“There you are,” Madeline said, lighting a candle and then blowing out the match. “I was just coming to look for you.” Her eyes met his, but her smile faded when she saw the gun. “Is everything all right?”

“Just being careful,” he lied, stepping out into the courtyard. “Where did you find the candles?”

“I bought them in the market. Clothes, too,” she said, spinning around to show him her skirt. “It’s an improvement. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah. You look great.” He nodded, still trying to shift gears. In point of fact, she looked beautiful. A far cry from the torn sweats and camisole she’d been wearing. Her skirt was fluid and gauzy, the brightly colored material sparkling in the candlelight. The white peasant blouse draped softly over her breasts to gather at the waist, the effect emphasizing just how small it was. Her face, freshly scrubbed, looked young and alive. And her hair had been tamed into a thick braid that she’d tied with a red satin ribbon.

His fingers itched to free the strands and tangle his fingers in the soft curls.

Obviously, relief was making him crazy.

“You shouldn’t have gone out,” he said, knowing he sounded peevish, but it beat sounding horny.

“I was careful.” She shrugged. “And the market is just across the street.”

“You could have been seen.”

“But I wasn’t,” she said, moving to stand in front of him, her head tipped up so that she could look him in the eyes. “And I wanted to do something to say thank you…” Her voice faded as she picked nervously at the material of her skirt. “For all that you’ve done for me.”

“It’s a nice gesture.” He nodded at the candles. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I’m fine. I swear. I’m sorry if I worried you.” Her gaze dropped to the gun in his hand. “I just went out to buy a few things.”

“There was a couple thousand dollars on the table,
Madeline.” He wasn’t sure why he was goading her. Maybe because the idea that she’d left him had mattered more than he wanted to admit, even to himself.