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“I’m doing what I think is best,” he said. His fingers nudged a wisp of hair back into place at her neck, and she felt trembly all over from the touch. “We’re not sure that the kidnappers still have Martina in Italy. Roberto thinks he knows one of them—the son of an acquaintance, who also happens to own land in Central America. I don’t have to tell you what a hell of a mess this could turn into if they take Martina there, do I?”
She felt weak all over. “But how are they dealing with Roberto?”
“One of the group, and there is a group, is still in Italy, to arrange the handling of the money,” he answered. He let his eyes fall to the jacket of her suit, and he studied it absently with disturbing concentration. “We may do some traveling before this is all over.”
“But first we’re going to Italy,” she murmured dazedly.
“Yes. To meet some old friends of mine,” he said, his chiseled mouth smiling faintly. “They owe me a favor from years past. I’m calling in the debt.”
“We’re taking a team?” she asked, eyebrows shooting up. It was getting more exciting by the minute.
“My, how your eyes light up when you speak of working with a team, Miss Darwin,” he mused.
“It’s so gung ho,” she replied self-consciously. “Kind of like that program I watch on TV every week, about the group that goes around the world fighting evil?”
“The Soldiers of Fortune?” he asked.
“The very one.” She grinned. “I never miss a single episode.”
“In real life, Miss Darwin,” he reminded her, “it’s a brutal, dangerous occupation. And most mercenaries don’t make it to any ripe old age. They either get killed or wind up in some foreign prison. Their lives are overromanticized.”
She glowered at him. “And what would you know about it, Mr. Criminal Attorney?” she challenged.
“Oh, I have a friend who used to sell his services abroad,” he replied as he sat back in his seat. “He could tell you some hair-raising stories about life on the run.”
“You know a real ex-merc?” she asked, eyes widening. She sat straight up in her seat. “Would he talk to me?”
He shook his head. “Darwin.” He sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”
“It’s your fault. You corrupted me. I used to lead a dull life and never even knew it. Would he?”
“I suppose he would.” His dark eyes wandered slowly over her. “You might not like what you found out.”
“I’ll take my chances, thanks. He, uh, wouldn’t be one of the old friends you’re meeting in Rome?” she asked.
“That would be telling. Fasten your seat belt, Darwin, we’re approaching the airport now,” he said as the flight attendant collected his cup and put the tray table up before moving on.
Her eyes lingered on his dark, unfathomable face as she complied with J.D.’s curt order to put her seat belt on. “Mr. Brettman, why did you bring me along?” she asked softly.
“You’re my cover, honey,” he said, and smiled sideways at her. “We’re lovers off on a holiday.”
“The way I look?” she chided.
He reached over and took the pins out of her coiffure, loosening her hair. His fingers lifted the glasses from their perch atop her head, folded them, and stuffed them into his shirt pocket. He reached over again and flicked open the buttons of her blouse all the way down to the cleft between her high breasts.
“Mr. Brettman!” she burst out, pushing at his fingers.
“Stop blushing, call me Jacob, and don’t start fighting me in public,” he said gruffly. “If you can remember all that, we’ll do fine.”
“Jacob?” she asked, her fingers abandoning their futile efforts to rebutton her buttons.
“Jacob. Or Dane, my middle name. Whichever you prefer, Gabby.”
He made her name sound like bowers of pink roses in bud, like the softness of a spring rain on grass. She stared up at him.
“Jacob, then,” she murmured.
He nodded, his dark eyes searching hers. “I’ll take care of you, Gabby,” he said. “I won’t let you get in the line of fire.”
“You meant it, didn’t you?” she asked. “You’re going to try to rescue Martina.”
“Of course,” he replied calmly. “She and I, we had a tough time as kids. Our father drowned in a bathtub, dead drunk, when we were toddlers. Mama scrubbed floors to keep us in school. As soon as we were old enough, we went to work, to help. But I was barely fifteen when Mama died of a heart attack. I’ve taken care of Martina ever since, just the way I promised I would. I can’t let strangers try to help her. I have to.”
“Forgive me,” she said gently, “but you’re an attorney, not a policeman. What can you do?”
“Wait and see,” he told her. His eyes surveyed her quietly, approving her elfin beauty. “I’m not in my dotage yet.”
“Yes, sir, I know that,” she murmured.
“Jacob,” he repeated.
She sighed, searching his dark eyes. “Jacob,” she agreed.
That seemed to satisfy him. He glanced past her as the plane started down, and he smiled. “The Eternal City, Gabby,” he murmured. “Rome.”
She followed his gaze and felt her heart lift as the ancient city came into view below. Already, she was leaping ahead to the time when she could actually see the Colosseum and the Forum and the Pantheon. But as she remembered the reason for their being in Rome, her enthusiasm faded. Of course there wouldn’t be time for sightseeing, she reasoned. J.D. was going to be too busy trying to get himself killed.
The drive into Rome was fascinating. They went in on the Viale Trastevere, through the old part of the city, across the wide Tiber on an ancient bridge. The seven hills of Rome were hardly noticeable because of centuries of erosion and new construction, but Gabby was too busy gaping at the ruins they passed to notice or care.
They went right by the Colosseum, and her eyes lingered on it as they proceeded to their hotel.
“We’ll find a few minutes to see it,” J.D. said quietly, as if he knew how much it meant to her.
Her gaze brushed his hard face and impulsively she touched her fingers to the back of his hand. “It really isn’t that kind of a trip,” she said softly.
He searched her worried face. His big hand turned, grasping hers warmly in its callused strength. “We’ll have to pretend that it is, for a day or so at least,” he said.
“What are we going to do?” she asked nervously.
He drew in a slow breath and leaned back against the seat, handsome and rugged-looking in his vested suit. It strained against massive muscles, and she tingled at the sight. J.D. had always affected her powerfully in a purely physical way. It pleased her eyes to look at him.
“I’m working on that. But one thing we’ll be doing in the hotel,” he added slowly, “is sharing a suite. Will that frighten you?”
She shook her head. “I’m not afraid of anything when I’m with you, Jacob,” she replied, finding that his given name was more comfortable to her tongue than she’d expected.
He cocked a heavy eyebrow. “That wasn’t the kind of fear I meant, actually,” he murmured. “Will you be afraid of me?”
“Why would I be?” she asked, puzzled.
He blew out a harsh breath and looked out the window. “I can’t think of a single damned reason,” he growled. “I hope Dutch got my message. He’s supposed to call me later at the hotel.”
“Dutch?” she queried softly.
“A man I know. He’s my go-between with Roberto,” he replied.
“Roberto and Martina don’t live in Rome, do they?” she asked.
He shook his head. “In Palermo. So, for all appearances, we’ll be a couple on holiday, and there won’t be anything to connect us with the kidnapping.”
“Will this man Dutch know if Martina is still in the country?” she asked.
“He’ll know,” he said with certainty.
He was obviously irritated with her, so she didn’t press him with any more questions, contenting herself with staring at every building they passed.
Their hotel was disappointingly modern, but the old-world courtesy of the Italian desk clerk made up for it. He was attentive and outgoing, and Gabby liked him at once. J.D., however, seemed to have misgivings about him. He didn’t share them with her, but he stared aggressively at the poor little man.
He had booked them a suite, with two bedrooms. Gabby hadn’t expected anything else, but J.D.’s behavior was downright odd. He glared at the elegant sitting room, he glared at her, and he especially glared at the telephone. He went out on the balcony to pace and smoke, and Gabby felt as if she were going to fly apart, he made her so nervous. She went into her bedroom and unpacked, just to have something to do. The sudden sound of the phone ringing startled her, but she didn’t go back into the sitting room; she waited for J.D. to call her. Meanwhile, she changed into jeans and a silky green top, leaving her hair loose and her reading glasses in her purse. She did look like a tourist on holiday. That ought to perk up J.D.
He called to her about five minutes later, and she walked onto the balcony to find him staring blankly out at the city. He’d taken off his jacket and vest and opened the top buttons of his shirt. His thick, wavy hair was mussed, and one big, tanned hand was still buried in it. A smoking cigarette was in the other hand, which was leaning on the railing.
“Jacob?” she murmured.
He turned. His dark eyes focused on her slender figure, so intent that they missed the shocked pleasure in her own gaze as she took in this sudden and unexpected glimpse of his body. Where the shirt was loose, she could see the olive tan of his chest under curls of dark hair, and rippling muscles that made her hands itch. Her whole body reacted to his sensuality, going rigid with excitement.
“Dutch,” he said, nodding inside toward the phone to indicate who his caller had been. “Martina’s out of the country.”
She caught her breath. “Where?”
“Guatemala. On a finca—a farm—owned by a terrorist group.”
Her eyes searched his hard face. “Why would they take her there?”
“Terrorism is international, and this particular group probably have holdings all over the world. The rule of law in Guatemala is notoriously inefficient, which makes it a good place to hide a kidnap victim.” He laughed bitterly. His jaw tautened. “They’ll kill her if they don’t get the money. They may do it anyway.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ve already done it,” he replied. “I’ve given Dutch a sum of money to buy some things I’ll need. I’ve also had him contact my old comrades. They’ll meet us at the Guatemalan finca of a friend of mine.”
She cocked her head at him, uncomprehending. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow,” he said. “As much as I’d like to jump on the next plane, we can’t do it that way. I need time to plan. And there’s no sense in signaling our every move. Dutch was going to speak to Roberto for me tonight. I’ll need to know the status of his fundraising before we leave.”
“Will we fly into Guatemala?” she asked, feeling jittery.
“To Mexico,” he said in answer. He smiled slowly. “As part of the holiday, of course,” he added. “That will be broadcast to the right quarters.”
“And now?” she asked. “What do I do?”
“We’ll go see some of those ruins, if you like,” he said. “It will help to pass the time.”
Her eyes searched his. “I know you’re worried, J.D. If you’d rather stay here…”
He moved closer to her, and the sudden proximity of his big body made her knees go weak. She lifted her face and found his dark eyes intent and unblinking.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said quietly. He reached out and traced a slow path down her cheek to her throat, where her pulse went suddenly wild. “What would you like to see first?”
She found that her voice wobbled alarmingly. “How about the Forum?”
His dark eyes searched hers for a long moment. His fingers went to her mouth, touching it lightly, as if the feel of it fascinated him. His thumb dragged slowly, sensuously, over it, smearing her lipstick, arousing every nerve ending she had. She gasped, and her lips parted helplessly.
“The Forum?” he murmured.
She hardly heard him. Her eyes were held by his. Her body was reacting to the closeness of his in a new and frightening way. She could smell the musky cologne he wore and it made her head spin.
Her hands went to his chest in a small gesture of protest, but the feel of all that bare skin and matted hair made her jerk back.
He glanced down at her recoiling fingers with an odd expression. “It’s only skin,” he said quietly. “Are you afraid to touch me?”
“I’ve never touched anybody that way,” she blurted out.
He tipped her face up to his and studied it with an odd smile. “Haven’t you? Why?”
What an interesting question, she thought. What a pity she didn’t have an answer.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t had the opportunity, Gabby,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t believe it.”
“Mama said that it wasn’t wise to do things like that to men,” she told him doggedly, her chin thrust out. “She said they were hard enough to manage even when it didn’t go beyond kissing.”
“So there,” he added for her with a faint smile. “She was right. Men get excited easily when they want a woman.”
She felt the blush go up into her hairline, setting fire to her face. And he laughed, the horrible man!
She pulled away from him with a hard glare. “That was unkind,” she grumbled.
“And you’re delightfully repressed,” he told her, but the look in his eyes was all tenderness. “You’d be pure sweet hell to initiate, Gabby.”
“I don’t want to be initiated,” she said primly. “I want to see the Forum.”
“All right, coward, hide your head in the sand,” he taunted, holding the door open for her.
“It’s safer that way, around you,” she mumbled.
He caught her arm as she started past him, and she felt the warmth of his body like a drug. “I’ll never hurt you,” he said unexpectedly, drawing her stunned gaze to his face. It was hard and solemn. Almost grim. “You trust me in every other way. I want you to trust me physically, as well.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because if I take you with me to Central America, I’ll want you with me all the time. Especially at night,” he added. “The men we’ll be working with aren’t particularly gentle. For all intents and purposes, you’ll be my possession.”
