Unexpected (8 page)

Jeremy's stomach jolted with the horrible memory. No thank you. They were all barbarians, forcing him through inhuman conditions. They'd taken him, so they should provide proper means of bathing.

His once comfortable, custom-tailored shirt had gotten dirty during their trip to the make-do prison, thanks to miles of foot travel. The men had tried to “exchange” it for a roughly woven tunic. Right. Like they thought he'd take a nickle's worth of coarse cloth to replace a shirt that cost more than their damn village.

He'd accused them of only wanting to steal it. That hadn't gotten him a better shirt. Just the opposite. His soiled shirt had been tossed back at him and not once since had they offered him another.

Unreasonable bastards.

Now everything he wore was grimy with filth and sticky with his own sweat. He'd tried demanding that someone wash his clothes, but most of the guards didn't understand his English and he didn't understand their Spanish.

He shook his head in disgust, but no one noticed. He was all alone. For the most part, they left him that way. Given how he smelled, he hardly blamed them for that.

If only he hadn't lost his camera back at that damn dive where he'd stupidly gotten drunk. Without the photos he'd already taken, the trip was an entire waste. Since he knew Eli was going to be majorly pissed once he got him out of there, he'd hoped to at least salvage the awesome shots he'd taken. They'd go a long way toward justifying the sneaky lies he'd told and maybe, just maybe, save his ass.

His self-pitying thoughts got distracted when something rustled in the dry brush. Jeremy went stock still, not even daring to breathe. Moving only his eyes, he peered off the side of his narrow cot.

Oh shit. Through the rickety floor slats, he could easily see the ground below. All the casitas were on platforms, he suspected to keep them dry from sudden downpours. Though the rainwater quickly flowed into the underground caves, it also brought out the insects. And here in Mataya, they had some really nasty bugs.

Like the gargantuan tarantula creeping across the dirt below him.

Jeremy's eyes widened like saucers to see better in the shadowy light of dusk. Oh God, he hated creepy bugs, most especially big hairy ones the size of his damn fist. The last time Ferdinand, as he'd named the hideous thing, had crawled from his hole, Jeremy had jumped up screaming, practically climbing the walls. The ragtag soldiers had all come rushing, determined to protect their prisoner.

When they saw he was freaked out over the spider—who in their right mind called
that
a mere spider?—they'd roared with hilarity, falling down, pointing, wiping tears of mirth from their dark faces.

Still clinging to the casita walls, Jeremy had been left feeling like an idiot.

Even without a grasp of Spanish, Jeremy understood when one of the guards claimed he squealed like a little girl. Another mocked him by dancing around the yard, carrying on in a falsetto screech on his tiptoes.

Stung with humiliation, Jeremy had picked up rocks and flung them. How dare they treat him like that? Back home, as heir to the Connorses' estates, he got respect and admiration from everyone.

The guerillas had walked away grinning, treating him like a petulant little boy.

When the next man brought him his lunch of beans, he'd explained in broken English that only when tarantulas were scared or put on the defensive did they attack with their poisonous bite or project their spiny hairs.

God forbid the damn thing should feel defensive, so Jeremy didn't move. Luckily, after a while, it went away. He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed back against the wall. When he got out of here, he was going to make them all pay for their crude treatment. He wasn't used to being dirty, to eating fried beans, or being taunted with insects.

With nothing else to do, he moved to look out the narrow window slit, taking in the view of the surrounding jungle. If he had his camera, he'd be snapping one roll of film after another.

The small hidden camp was a few miles from the outskirts of the village. Sitting atop a hill, they overlooked the Vaca Plateau. Mountains could be seen on the horizon, with tall trees spreading their bare branches like veins across the gray sky. At the base of the mountains, the jungle expanded, looking lush and filled with animal sounds. The howler monkeys were particularly obnoxious and often kept him awake. He remembered a time when he'd seen them at the zoo and thought they were cute.

The little bastards drove him crazy now with their deep-throated roars at dawn.

Tiny frogs, more poisonous than the tarantula, and night-hunting cats made the jungle a horrific place. So many times he could have escaped, because he wasn't watched
that
closely. But where would he go, other than into that dense jungle where he'd no doubt fall to the bottom of the damn food chain?

No, he'd wait. Eli would come, Jeremy knew that.

What Eli would do after the rescue was what kept Jeremy awake at nights. His brother wasn't going to be happy, and Eli in a rage was ten times more intimidating than any band of guerillas could be.

 

 

Ray awakened slowly—then went still.

She'd done it again! She'd gone sound asleep when she absolutely shouldn't have. She almost never slept that hard, definitely not when on an assignment. Yet she'd passed out for the duration and couldn't remember moving all night.

But she had moved.

If her body wasn't lying to her, and she was pretty sure it wasn't, she was now sprawled over Eli, her face cushioned against his hairy chest, her thigh resting over his lap. He had morning wood. After camping out with guys plenty of times, she understood that predicament—but she'd never been personally involved with it.

“Hey.”

His soft greeting nearly stopped her heart. Now what?

“I know you're awake, Ray.” His fingers threaded through her hair and rubbed her scalp.

How did this keep happening to her? It was as if her body just sought his out, drawn to him like a lodestone. Had
he
awakened when she crawled on top?

Did he help get her there?

She didn't move. She
couldn't
move. In so many places, she touched him. Skin on skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat. He was hot, his flesh taut. Her breathing hitched in primal awareness. When he raised his other hand to tip up her chin, she felt the muscles in his chest and abdomen flex, and even that sent a thrill coursing through her.

She had no choice but to look at him.

Big mistake. Eli's eyes plainly showed his thoughts, and once she knew what he was thinking, she thought it, too.

His beard shadow was more noticeable this morning, giving him a piratical appearance that seemed darkly appealing and far too suitable to the type of man she now knew him to be. Ray watched his gaze drop to her mouth and she unconsciously licked her lips while struggling for a clear thought.

Eli's fingers gripped her skull, holding her head still as he slowly leaned forward. His intent was obvious.

He was going to kiss her.

It was all the inducement Ray needed. She practically sprang from the bed, ruffled, confused, far too warm. Her normally agile limbs refused to work correctly. She got one foot caught in the sheet, staggered, righted herself. Once out of the bed, she tried to look blasé, but hiding her turbulent emotions and racing heartbeat wasn't easy.

Eli watched her like a hawk preparing to scoop up a mouse.

That image didn't sit well with her, so she forced a chuckle. “Sorry about that. I didn't mean to hog the bed.” She ran her fingers through her tangled bangs, inadvertently making them more tangled. “I, uh, don't usually sleep like the dead.”

“I didn't mind.”

Ray had to turn her back to his deep, softly spoken words. God, she felt his husky voice reverberate through her entire body, settling like a weight in her lower belly. She resisted the urge to fan herself, unwilling to let Eli know how much she'd been affected by his touch.

The telephone rang, jarring her. Before common sense could sink in, she pivoted on the balls of her feet in a fighter's stance, ready to face the threat.

Eli gave her a long look, sat up on the side of the bed, and answered their wake-up call. Hot color stole up her neck, over her face, right up to her eyebrows.

After he'd hung up, Eli scrutinized her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Her voice was clipped, but hell, she'd almost kicked the phone.

He looked unconvinced, concerned, and protective. “You know, Ray, all I really need are directions. You can tell me what to do. There's no reason for you to go along—”

“No.” He wrongly assumed her stupid jitters were in fear of the mission. Her throat squeezed tight, making it hard to breathe. If he thought she couldn't do her job, then she had no value to him, not now, not here. But she couldn't correct him either. An admission like that would probably have her right back in the bed. “I run the show, Eli, not you, and no way in hell are you going anywhere without me.”

His eyes narrowed. She recognized the stubbornness in the set of his shoulders, the signs of impending arguments.

“Give it up, Eli.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “We don't have time for macho nonsense. If we're going to meet my friend on time, we have to get rolling. From here on out, things will move quickly. We need to stay on schedule, so get your butt out of the bed.”

The seconds ticked by while Eli ruminated in indecision, his eyes locked on hers. She didn't dare waver, didn't look away, and in the end, he nodded, filling Ray with relief.

“Whatever you say, Ray.” Looking more manly than any man had a right to, he rose from the bed, grabbed up his overnight bag, and disappeared into the bathroom.

He was gone fifteen minutes, which gave Ray time to collect herself. Not that it helped much when, the second she saw him, she wanted to melt all over again.

His hair was wet from his shower but he'd remembered not to shave. He wore only dark beard shadow, small droplets of water that still clung to his chest hair, and fresh boxers.

She wasn't a schoolgirl or an inexperienced virgin. She'd never led a sheltered life. More times than she could count, she'd seen men in similar states of undress.

This wasn't the same. This was Eli.

She silently cursed herself, especially when Eli looked up and caught her ogling him.

He held her gaze while stepping into his jeans. “I'm done in the bathroom if you want to dress. I'll be ready in five minutes.”

Ray picked up her bag and hurried into the bathroom, then closed and locked the door. She was still washing up when she heard Eli open the hotel door and speak quietly to someone. Her curiosity pricked, she dressed quickly to investigate. No sooner had she stepped out of the bathroom than the aroma of fresh coffee and croissants had her stomach growling in appreciation.

Eli looked up as she walked in. He'd placed the tray at the end of the bed and was already filling two cups. Beside the plate of fat, flaky croissants were pats of butter, jams, and jellies. A small urn of creamer and several sugar packets rounded out the feast.

“I thought you might want a bite to eat before we take off. It's not much, but I didn't think we'd have time for a big breakfast.”

The man was diabolical in his tactics. He'd probably make a good mercenary—if all his missions were to seduce women. He was certainly on the road to success with her.

He hadn't bothered with a shirt yet. His chest was the stuff of dreams, with just the right amount of dark hair and prominent muscles. He looked strong, without the bulk of an overblown bodybuilder.

Beneath his navel on his hard abdomen, Ray saw the start of a silkier line of hair. She knew where that happy trail led and almost wished he hadn't put on the jeans.

She busied herself with spreading two packets of strawberry jam onto half a croissant. She took a healthy bite and groaned in bliss. “Good stuff. Thanks.”

When he didn't reply, she glanced up. He wore such a tender expression, she blinked. “What?”

Shrugging, Eli told her, “It amuses me that you enjoy eating so much, and you're so damn slender.”

“Fast metabolism,” she explained. “And you'd better eat something, too. It might be a while before we get the chance again. And when we do, it sure as hell won't be fresh pastry.”

Eli dutifully walked to the tray to choose his own croissant. “You know, I've been wondering about a few things.”

Ray paused in the act of chewing. “Yeah?”

“You keep saying you have everything planned, but that doesn't tell me anything.”

“You know what you need to know.”

“I hired you, remember?”

Like she could ever forget? “So?”

“Doesn't that give me a few rights?”

“No.”

He pressed her. “If there's more to this than you're telling me, if my brother is in serious danger . . .”

Huffing, Ray reached for his arm, then turned his wrist so she could read the face of his watch. “All right. You have about two minutes to get specific answers. Then we have to go.”

He nodded in satisfaction. “How are we going to get past the border patrols?”

Arching a brow, Ray said, “That's pretty specific. Okay, first off, Mataya is coastal on two sides. We won't file a flight plan, so no one will be watching for us. The area isn't that hostile anymore, and they're so poor that they can't afford regular patrols. It won't be a problem. Going through legal channels not only costs a fortune in bribes, it takes forever. The rule is to never confront an official if you don't have to. They have away of talking circles around you until you've emptied your pockets.”

“And once we land?”

“We'll travel overland by foot for about fifteen miles to what the locals refer to as the town square, though that's misleading. It's a packed dirt courtyard surrounded by a few thatch-roofed
palapas.
It opens up to the main dock.” She glanced up and away. “You'll see mostly fishermen, some outdoor cooking fires, and a brothel.”