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She understood then that there was no use pleading with these men or trying to bribe them. If they didn’t obey the wishes of the soldiers, they would be inviting the wrath of El Jefe.
Her captors gave her no opportunity for escape.
In minutes they emerged from the shade of the jungle onto the hot surface of the road. The van from which she’d escaped was parked a hundred yards or so farther on, and she saw immediately that the soldiers had repaired the flat tire. Jose and Jorge were lounging against the vehicle, one on either side. It did nothing to lift her spirits to find out she’d been slogging through rough terrain half the morning, and they’d been riding along in comfort.
When the villagers delivered her up to Jorge, he gave her a look that was equal parts relief and anger.
“Puta,” he growled, his hands balled into fists. “What the hell do you think you’re doing causing so much trouble? You’re going to be sorry.”
She braced herself for a blow, but none came. Maybe he didn’t want to have to explain how the prisoner had gotten injured. Pivoting away, he honked the horn several times in rapid succession.
When he turned back to her, his anger was under better control. Methodically he began to search her, his hands lingering on her body in a way that made her want to throw up. When he found her knife and the other tools, he gave her a thunderous look.
“This will make the general very angry.”
She raised her chin. “You wouldn’t be stupid enough to tell him your prisoner got away, would you?”
“Why not?” The question was from Jose, who had come around the van to stand behind her.
“Because he won’t be angry only at me. He’s going to wonder why you were careless enough to let a woman in a leg iron slip out of your hands.”
The two men exchanged a quick, whispered conversation. At least Marissa had the satisfaction of knowing she’d rattled them badly. And maybe her ploy would keep them from talking about the morning’s misadventure.
Jorge cuffed her wrists behind her back before he shoved her into the van. The vehicle lurched away in a cloud of exhaust that enveloped the villagers who were standing several yards away watching the spectacle.
* * *
AS JED pressed his foot down on the old Land Rover’s accelerator he was thinking about the two best features of the road to El Jefe’s finca. There were no potholes. And there weren’t any cops on motorcycles who were going to stop him for speeding. Which was a damn good thing, because he was driving as if the devil was in pursuit.
He slowed marginally as he approached a village, alert for cows with a death wish. But at this time of day they were all lazing in the shade while the egrets picked the bugs from their hides.
As soon as he’d cleared the populated area, Jed accelerated again. He’d shown up at Sanchez’s offices in Santa Isabella that morning pretending that he wanted to get together with his old buddy, since they hadn’t connected at the party the other night. He’d been told that the general was at his country estate.
Determining the whereabouts of the female prisoner being held incommunicado had been a little trickier. But he’d been lucky enough to run into one of the men he’d trained six years ago. The fellow had made lieutenant, and he attributed much of his military success to Jed’s guidance.
As they talked about old times and present duties, Jed asked if the general was loading them up with special assignments. He found out that two guards had taken a good-looking blond woman out to the hacienda the previous morning.
With his heart pounding, he’d gotten out of the conversation as quickly as possible. Five minutes later he had hit the road to Sanchez’s estate, trying like hell not to think about what he might find. But he couldn’t stop some pretty vivid pictures from jumping into his mind. He’d once walked into a session when El Jefe had been demonstrating interrogation techniques on prisoners captured from the revolutionary army.
As he sped west the sky turned to navy blue, and the wind began to blow. A tropical storm was rolling in. He hoped it held off until after he arrived at the finca, or the driving rain might slow him to a crawl.
Two miles from the main gate he was stopped at a checkpoint. Again he was damn lucky. It still wasn’t raining, and another of his old comrades was on duty. He was passed through on the assumption that Sanchez knew about the visit. He hoped he didn’t get the guard in too much trouble.
If things were the same as they’d been six years ago, an electrified fence and another guard station were ahead. Jed’s hands tightened on the wheel. Even if they were best buddies, it was doubtful that the sentry up ahead would allow him to pass without authorization from El Jefe.
But what if the general was interrogating his prisoner? If he was busy with Marissa, he’d probably left strict orders not to be disturbed because he wouldn’t want to break the rhythm of the session.
A sick feeling rose in Jed’s throat. Too bad this Land Rover wasn’t armor plated so he could steamroll the guardhouse and hope that Sanchez would come out to investigate the disturbance.
As it turned out, the sentry’s attention wasn’t focused on the road but on the nearby field that El Jefe used for disciplinary action. The trees at the edge of the parade ground bent and swayed. The wind tore at the shirts and trousers of soldiers in the field marching in formation as if preparing for a formal drill. Not likely in a gale condition. No, this was no practice session. He recognized the configuration. It was a firing squad.
His blood turned to ice when he spotted the prisoner being marched to a stake facing the troops. It was Marissa.
Chapter Four
Jed gunned the engine of the Land Rover and barreled through the checkpoint. The wooden arm on the barrier snapped like a fence rail in a hurricane. Behind him he heard the sentry bellowing in surprise, then anger.
“Basta! Or I’ll shoot.”
Jed didn’t stop. Half expecting a volley of machine gun bullets to plow into the vehicle, he kept his foot pressed on the gas. A few seconds later he decided the guard was no fool. El Jefe himself was in an open car on the field. Any shots would endanger the general’s life.
However, Jed was taking no chances. As quickly as he could, he put the troops between himself and the sentry. When the vehicle zoomed onto the grass, their precise formation dissolved into disarray. Some men stopped in their tracks, a few kept marching. Most broke into a run as if they’d been scattered by the rising wind. It would have been comical if Jed had been watching it on a movie screen. But this wasn’t make-believe. It was Marissa’s life.
The only soldiers who weren’t aware of the disturbance were the ones escorting her toward the wooden stake about fifty yards away. Marissa walked between the uniformed men with her head held high and the breeze blowing the hair back from her face. She made it look as if she was the one in charge, not they. What was it costing her to march to her death with such composure?
As he watched, he felt a hard knot of anxiety inside his chest burst into sharp pieces, sending pain stabbing through his lungs. Lord, what if he’d been a few minutes later?
Behind him he could hear Sanchez snapping out angry orders. Then a troop of running feet hammered toward the Land Rover. Jed didn’t wait for the squad to reach him. Screeching to a stop, he jumped out of the vehicle. Marissa wasn’t out of danger yet. Neither was he. But he proceeded with what he hoped looked like unswerving confidence.
“Change of plans,” he barked in Spanish.
At the sound of his voice, the men holding Marissa dropped her arms and whirled.
She was thrown off balance. Swaying in the gale, she turned on shaky legs and stared around uncomprehendingly as if she’d suddenly awakened from a nightmare and wasn’t sure she was really conscious or where she was.
He saw her eyes snap into focus and zero in on him. He wasn’t surprised as they widened the way they always did when the two of them first met. Yet this time he knew there was more behind the look than usual. He saw panic, relief and disbelief all warring with each other.
“Jed?” His name was a mere wisp of sound on her trembling lips.
“Come to get you out of this mess, honey bee.” He was surprised to be struggling with the rough quality of his own voice. Momentarily, he was as shaken as she.
Tottering on shaky legs, she took a step toward him. At the same time she made a tiny, muted sound that was half sob, half exclamation.
Chaos swirled around the two of them. But it seemed to fade into the background. Marissa was the sole focus of his attention. And she was looking at him with the same intensity.
Closing the distance between them in a few sure strides, he caught her in his embrace and held her tightly, achingly aware of how small and fragile she felt. Like a fluttering bird he’d freed from a trap.
She slumped against him. He wasn’t sure when she took hold of his shoulders, but he felt her fingers digging into his flesh so hard that he knew he would see the marks when he got undressed that night. Then her whole body began to tremble.
He bent his head and spoke low and urgently in her ear, glad that the wind gave them a measure of privacy. “It’s all right. I’m here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he told her, his hands stroking through her hair and up the icy flesh of her arms as he tried to warm her with his touch, tried to project a sense of absolute confidence that he wished he could feel. He’d pictured a dozen harrowing scenarios. But not this. “I’ve got a way to protect you, honey.”
His name sighed out of her once more, drawing his attention to her mouth. It looked so soft, so vulnerable, so exposed that he had to kiss her. Seeing his intent, she stiffened and made a startled exclamation. Afraid she was going to push him away, he tried to hold on to her with his gaze. This was the moment of greatest danger, the moment she could give away the whole shooting match.
“Marci, no.”
She stared up into his eyes, hers so large and questioning that he could have gotten lost in their blue depths. Perhaps he was as dazed as she, because something strange happened. He knew where he was—on the parade ground, surrounded by uniformed soldiers. But the men and their surroundings had faded into the background so that he was conscious only of Marci. He sought something vital from her as his lips moved against her. At the same time he felt his own vulnerability rise to the surface as if he were the one in need of aid and comfort.
In that instant everything changed. The stiffness left her spine, and she went soft and pliant in his arms. In reaction, his emotions changed from protective to hungry. He drank in her sweetness even as she swayed against him, clinging to him like a lost kitten trying to grasp something solid. But he was as lost as she.
Later he realized that it all must have happened in mere seconds. On the field it felt as if they had stepped out of time into a private space of their own. As they clung together, nothing existed for him besides Marissa and the contact of his mouth against hers. His body against hers. The urgent movement of her hands up and down his back.
Her lips opened under his, and he took advantage of the surrender. He tasted passion, heard a low murmur in her throat that made the blood in his veins run hot.
Then in the space of a heartbeat he sensed her change, as he felt her remember who she was and who he was and that there was a reason—whatever it was—that she had never allowed him this close before.
He longed to bring her back to him. Longed to use every lover’s trick he’d ever learned to recapture her heady response, but he realized with a start that they weren’t alone and that a harsh voice had intruded into their reality.
The voice rose above the wind. “Arrest this man.”
Jed’s attention snapped instantly back to the here and now. Marissa went taut in his arms.
Soldiers with guns moved into position around them, cutting off any avenue of escape. But then, Jed had never thought this rescue was going to be easy. Ignoring the troops, he turned and focused on the man who had given the order.
Miguel Sanchez had the grace to look astonished. “Jed?”
“Sе, mi amigo.”
Some of the squad had recognized him, and he heard his name whispered in the circle of startled faces as he shifted Marissa to his side.
“What is the meaning of this?” El Jefe demanded. “What are you doing here interfering in my private business?”
“I apologize for arriving unannounced. But I can’t allow you to execute an innocent woman. Particularly when she’s my fiancеe.”
“Your what?” Sanchez bellowed, any pretense of calm vanishing.
Marissa’s reaction was no less violent. Her body jerked in Jed’s arms. Raising her head, she searched his face, her eyes wide and startled. And so tantalizingly beautiful that he was almost undone. But he managed to remember why he was here and why it was so important to hang on to his wits.
“My fiancеe. The woman I’m going to marry.” He repeated the words very slowly and very evenly, and not only for Sanchez’s benefit. Marissa needed time to take in the information.
“That’s impossible. She’s a spy!” the general growled. “She escaped into the jungle, and my men had to recapture her.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Do you know who sent her?”
“Nobody sent her. There’s obviously been some kind of mistake,” Jed countered. He’d been acting on pure instinct when he’d driven headlong in front of the troops. Now he looked at the stake that had been waiting for Marissa and was unable to keep from shuddering. “This is no place for a civilized discussion. Why don’t we go back to the hacienda and talk about it before we all get drenched.”
Sanchez nodded—a single, curt movement of his head—and began striding toward his jeep. Jed started to lead Marissa to the Land Rover, but the general’s voice stopped him. “No.” El Jefe spoke over the wind, his voice raised so the assembled troops could hear. “I insist you ride with me, amigo. One of my men will bring your vehicle and put it in the garage.”
Jed didn’t bother to argue. His life and Marissa’s depended on their getting a chance to communicate. But defying Sanchez at this moment was an even surer ticket to destruction.
Marissa still looked dazed as he helped her into the jeep’s back seat. At first she nestled against him like an injured animal. But he felt her coming back to life as El Jefe barked orders to the squad. He sensed her struggling to pull herself together, but there was only so much he could do to help without giving away the story line to their attentive audience. When the jeep lurched forward she sat up straighter and squirmed in the seat, trying to put some distance between them. Jed suspected that his leg pressed to hers was making it difficult for her to think. But he held her firmly, aware that Sanchez kept shifting his gaze from the road to glance with interest in the rearview mirror at the engaged couple in the back seat.
“I was worried about you, honey,” Jed murmured, keeping Marissa close to him and stroking his lips against her temple.
The caress made her shiver, and he wondered if the melting moment in his arms had been a figment of his imagination. No, for a few incredible seconds she’d kissed him like a lover. But he could put that down to disorientation—and a spontaneous reaction to the man who’d snatched her from the jaws of death.
He ached to find out if her surge of emotions had come from more than fear and gratitude. But that discovery would have to wait for another time and place. “I hope you’re feeling more like yourself,” he murmured, knowing the statement was only partly true. Lord, what he wouldn’t give for a few hours with the woman who had come alive in his arms.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“Good girl.” He patted her knee, anticipating her response to the intimate gesture. She jumped, and he knew he had gotten her full attention. As much for Miguel’s benefit as hers, he began to speak in a half amused, half worried voice. “So I leave you alone for a couple of hours and you get yourself in a real mess again. Cassie and Abby and Sabrina and everybody else are going to be worried sick when they hear about this. Or maybe we shouldn’t even tell them.”
Her head whipped toward him. “How do you know—?”
His hand tightened on hers, and he clamped down on her sentence before she could give anything away. “How did I know you were here, honey bee? A combination of detective work and luck.” He raised his voice and addressed Sanchez. “You weren’t really going to shoot my lady love, were you, you old devil?”
“I was still weighing the pros and cons.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“There was always the chance that a last-minute reprieve might loosen her tongue.”
Marissa made a strangled sound.
They were approaching the stretch of jungle that separated the hacienda from the military complex. Miguel turned onto a hard-packed dirt road that wound past banana trees, tall ferns and countless jungle plants Jed couldn’t name. They were all swaying wildly, raining leaves down on the jeep. And the sky was black as midnight. Jed expected the rain to begin pelting them any second.
When Sanchez leaned forward and picked up a portable phone, Jed pressed his fingers tightly over Marissa’s.
She looked at him and nodded. And he knew she was functioning on a higher level. She understood that while the other man’s attention was focused on giving orders for their reception, they had partial privacy. Still, Jed took the precaution of keeping his tone light and garrulous. “Don’t let him fool you into thinking he’s harmless.”
She glanced toward the front seat. “I won’t.”
In the dim light he turned her face toward him. “Did he hurt you?” he whispered.
“Not physically.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding. “You were in the prison complex in Santa Isabella?”
“Yes. In solitary confinement. I didn’t see a living soul until two men brought me here yesterday.”
Jed glanced up to see that Miguel was staring at them intently in the mirror again. Probably he’d only used the phone call to see what they would do when they thought his attention was elsewhere.
Just then they emerged from the forest. The wind suddenly died and the sun came out again. A good omen, Jed told himself, wishing he believed in omens.
They headed for a high adobe wall softened with festoons of blooming purple and orange bougainvillea. But the metal gate was all business. Jed watched as Sanchez pressed a remote control that slid the barrier open, interested to find that security had become more automated since his time. The modernization could be helpful if they had to make an unexpected getaway. Electronic devices could be disabled.
However, when they passed the dog kennel, his hopeful thoughts turned gloomy. Electronics were one thing. The pack of Dobermans that patrolled the grounds at night was another thing altogether.
The barking of the Dobermans stabbed through the last of the fog shrouding Marissa’s brain. She gave Jed a quick sideways glance, marveling that he could appear so calm. Trying to follow his example, she sat up straighter and looked around, aware of her surroundings with a sudden aching clarity. The sun had come out from behind the clouds, and the whitewashed walls of the hacienda were bathed in the warm afternoon light. The wind had died to a gentle whisper. And she wasn’t dead.
When she shuddered, Jed’s arm tightened around her, and she had the uncanny sensation that he understood what she was feeling.
She looked down, hoping he wasn’t reading everything in her mind. For her own equanimity she struggled to rationalize what had happened between them out there on the field—or more specifically what had happened to her. His part was easy enough to grasp. He was a normal man. She’d tumbled into his embrace, and he’d taken advantage of the situation.
But she’d behaved in a manner that was so totally alien that she could only explain it one way: she’d been living in a nightmare that would end with her own death, and just when she’d lost all hope, Jed had come charging to her rescue. She’d been so off balance that she’d let herself feel things she’d been afraid of for years. Particularly with him. Convulsively, she knit her hands together. Perhaps holding tight to her own flesh could bring back the perfect control she’d relied on for so long.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, and she wondered if he was still following her thoughts.
