Cherry Adair - T-flac 03 (32 page)

Delanie muttered a curse as she rammed four fingers into the space between her neck and the chokehold of the gold necklace, making a fist. "Get this off before we go." If she kept yanking at the damn thing, she'd eventually decapitate herself.

He moved behind her and touched the back of her neck. Delanie quickly bunched her hair out of his way.

"Can't find the lock?" she asked, her voice husky. His breath whispered warm on the back of her neck, and she felt the callused rasp of his fingers brushing her nape. It felt like forever until the warm links slid free over her skin.

"My turn." He came around her, turning his back, then crouched at her feet. "Run your fingers underneath until you feel several uneven links."

He was close enough so she didn't have to do anything but move his braid over his broad shoulder to bare his nape. His shirt felt slightly damp, his neck hot. She ran her fingertip carefully inside the necklace, trying to feel the small ridge indicating the lock.

"Your hands are cold."

Dizzy with nerves, worried sick about Lauren, she didn't answer. She tried to find the clasp, again and again. The muscles in his neck and shoulders bunched as her index finger moved slowly beneath the flat links. She touched his skin, smelling the faint compelling scent of him. Her breath moved the fine dark hair at his nape.

Kyle had to explain more than once how the mechanism worked. It was intricate, and impossible to see.

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Eventually she found it. They both felt relief as the gold slithered from around his neck into his waiting hand. Kyle rose, stuffing both necklaces into his back pocket.

The ghostly brush of his fingers at the nape of her neck lingered as they walked down the hallway.

"Will you promise me something?" she asked calmly, feeling perspiration clammy on her skin as they walked past the room where Isabella—

"Yeah?"

"If for some reason I don't make it out of here, will you promise to find my sister and get her to safety?"

He gave her an odd look. "I have a life insurance policy. You can have it. It's small, but—Will you see she's taken care of?"

Something dangerous flared in his eyes. "No."

Blood drained from her head. "No? My God, Kyle—"

"This is a war, jungle girl." He sounded harsh, grim. His eyes froze the marrow in her bones. "You aren't supposed to be here. As it is, you've already jeopardized this mission. I'm not a frigging baby-sitter or nursemaid. The people up at the hacienda want to kill me just as badly as I want to exterminate them.

Hundreds of other people are involved in this mission. In twenty-four hours the real fun will start." His pale eyes glittered. "If you want to make sure your precious sister gets your insurance, you'll have to hand it to her yourself."

Chin up, shoulders back, Delanie glared at him. "Fine. I'll do that."

"Delanie Eastman. Always her sister's keeper. What are you going to do when you find her? Carry her yourself?"

Her throat ached. "If that's what it takes."

"You can barely walk yourself."

"I can walk," she said with unnatural calm. "Not very well maybe. But I
can
walk."

"Leap buildings in a single bound, too?" he asked ferociously, stepping away from her. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, you can't always handle everything by yourself? That perhaps you might need someone else once in a while?" His voice was ragged, angry, almost bitter.

"I just asked you for your help, and you turned me down flat, remember? No problem. I did just fine taking care of myself long before you came along, and I'll continue to do so long after you've disappeared into the sunset. I'm strong enough to take care of myself."

"No one's that strong."

She fought off a feeling of helpless despair. Kyle had promised his help, then suddenly withdrawn it.

He gave her a savage look. "You'd goddamn rather break than bend, wouldn't you?" He searched her face for who knew what. "Okay, let's get the hell out of here." He didn't sound ecstatic. "Do everything I tell you,
when
I tell you, or we'll both be dead."

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"Trust me," Delanie assured him with utmost sincerity. "I will. What do you want me to carry?"

He handed her a nasty-looking gun on a webbed strap, and a burlap bag.

Imitating Kyle, she slung the weapon over her shoulder and marched outside like a good little soldier.

Dawn hovered. The air, thick with the smell of vegetation, felt cool against Kyle's face. He hadn't realized just how long he'd been in that room. Damn. No matter how mild the tranquilizing gas had been, it had still robbed them of hours of travel time.

They headed north, deep into the jungle. Away from Isabella's house of horrors, and away from the compound. Roughly calculating the time it would take to reach the rendezvous point, Kyle figured three-plus hours travel time.

Everything around them was in shades of gray, the path away from Isabella's house relatively free of undergrowth. Later he'd have to use the machete tucked in his belt. He checked their position on the GPS compass built into his watch, which the stupid bastards hadn't taken off him, thank God. The global positioning satellite would lead him to the meeting point where he'd stashed emergency supplies, and where his team would be gathering in just under nine hours.

He'd really like to contact them, give them the heads up. But somebody had swiped the communications device from his room days ago, and the sudden change of plan in San Cristobal had prevented him from replacing it. Hell, nothing he could do about it now.

He made out shapes and movement in the dense undergrowth as the narrow beam of his stolen flashlight strafed the trees. Behind him, Delanie crashed and stumbled without complaint, her breathing harsh, and her gait uneven.

Tenacious. Stubborn. Unyielding. And loyal to a fault.

He'd instructed her to hold firmly to his belt until visibility improved. Her slender fingers had leather and fabric bunched in a sweaty death grip at the small of his back.

The Uzi felt comfortable against his chest, thirty-two rounds in the ammo magazine times three. He'd stuffed a couple of spare clips in his pockets and carried the machete in one hand, the flashlight in the other. The Beretta was tucked in his belt.

Delanie carried the bag with the supplies and an Uzi. The bag also contained the rest of the magazines, which weighed a ton. He'd have carried everything, but naturally she'd made a federal case out of shouldering her share of the load. She could barely carry herself, let alone an Uzi and the sack, but she'd insisted vehemently.

The smell of vegetation was suddenly obliterated for a moment by the pungent stink of bug.

"Hang on a sec." Delanie released his belt and limped off before he could stop her.

Now what?

She returned seconds later with a familiar black canvas bag, held at arm's length, and a smile on her face. "Look what I found!"

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"Yeah, one more thing to carry." The damn thing stunk to high heaven.

Delanie ignored him, slung the straps over her shoulder, and grabbed hold of his belt again. "Let's go."

For a brief moment he questioned whether she could make the three-hour trek to his stashed supplies, then laughed grimly to himself. Hell, yeah. If anybody could do it, it was the woman keeping pace behind him.

After an hour he knew she needed a break. Her breath caught on every step. He'd pushed her past her endurance. Even so, she probably would have continued until she dropped at his feet rather than utter one word of complaint.

"Sit down and take a load off. I'll be right back." The flashlight beam arced as he tossed it to her.

"Where—?"

"Drink some of the water." Not looking back he melted into the trees.

Using the machete to clear a path deeper into the jungle, Kyle checked his bearings on the illuminated dial of his watch.

Whack
. A lopped off, wrist-thick vine dropped at his feet. It felt good to vent some of the excess energy he'd been stockpiling.
Whack. Whack. Whack
. A nice steady rhythm built.

There were at least twelve hours left before the party started.

Whack. Whack. Whack.

The charcoal light changed gradually to slate. He'd given her a thirty-minute break. More than he could afford. He headed back.

Delanie was where he'd left her, leaning awkwardly against a nearby tree. She hadn't sat down. He suspected because it was too painful for her to get back up again.

"How are you holding up, jungle girl?"

"Fine." She straightened, drawing in a breath as she took a step. She picked the Uzi up by the webbed strap and slung it over her shoulder. It was almost full light, and he clearly saw the gray cast to her face.

Sweat shone on her skin, and her damp hair curled about her face. She looked like hell. And he wanted to kiss her so badly, his lips throbbed. "Ready?"

She nodded, and they worked their way down the path he'd cleared. Given the topography, most of the ground they had to cover was on a downward slope, giving them momentum. Anything in their favor at this point was a plus.

Delanie hadn't asked once where the hell they were going. For all she knew they were walking back down the mountain to San Cristobal.

"I stashed a tent and some supplies about an hour from here. Think you can manage another sixty minutes?" More like another two hours, but even twenty minutes must seem like an eternity to her.

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"Yes." Her bumpy knuckles prodded him in the back where she once again held onto his belt in a death grip. It was plenty light enough for her to see quite clearly now. He didn't comment.

Delanie's breath hitched with every step she took. Kyle clamped his jaw, wishing to hell he didn't feel every painful step with her. He couldn't afford to feel anything at the moment, not when their lives depended on his undivided attention.

They reached the end of the cleared section in minutes. Using the machete, he hacked back at the tangle of vines and thickly veined leaves. He felt her hand slip from his belt.

During the last mile, her limp had become more pronounced. He was going as slowly as he dared. They were now well out of audio range of the compound, but there was still a lot of ground to be covered.

"Need to stop?" he asked grimly.

"No," she said, not unexpectedly.

His admiration for her grew. How the hell was she managing to walk? To talk? To stay upright?

He wanted to pick her up and carry her, protected in his arms. Get her away as far and fast as humanly possible. He fought back a wave of tenderness. He didn't want this agony of worrying about her.

Couldn't afford to screw up this assignment even more by being distracted.

Wasn't going to happen.

Her tenacity was going to keep her alive, and he was going to stay focused. Kyle could practically hear her mind whirring. She'd be going over and over what had happened to her at Isabella's hands. She'd probably have nightmares about this for a long, long time.

Hell. So would he.

Shafts of sunlight streamed through the upper branches. The heat and humidity intensified in direct proportion to the increasing level of light. Her breathing was harsh enough to cause him real concern. He hacked away another couple of feet of vegetation. "Stop and take a break."

"If you were alone would you be taking a break?"

"I'm not alone."

"I didn't think so. I'm fine, keep walking."

She was hanging in there. He kept walking and sought something else for both of them to focus on. The fact that she had a short fuse would help, he thought wryly. Her anger seemed to produce adrenaline. It wasn't hard for Kyle to think of something to piss her off, and he said mildly, "You're very good at dissociating yourself, aren't you?"

"What?"

"Dissociating yourself. Separating yourself from what's going on around you."

"Boy, I wish
that
were true."

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"Oh, it's true all right. Isabella tortured you, and you allowed twenty seconds to think about yourself before you started worrying about Lauren. Is it easier to worry about other people than it is yourself, Delanie?"

"That's ridiculous. This conversation is ridiculous."

"Is it?" He paused. "Tell me why you took me to your hotel room that weekend."

"What does one thing have to do with the other?"

"Depends on your answer, doesn't it?"

"You don't want to know."

"Oh, believe me, jungle girl, I do want to know. Why the hell did you go into the bar and pick me up that night?"

A long pause. Her steps altered as she shrugged. "I told you. I was engaged to Anthony Russell. We'd been engaged for seven months, and I hadn't been able to bring myself to sleep with him. Don't ask why.

I don't know. I just hadn't wanted to. He was getting irritated and started mocking me and giving me a hard time about it. He was going to a conference in San Francisco, and he told me before he left that if I wanted to keep him around I'd better be prepared to sleep with him when he got back."

"You should have told the asshole to take a long walk off a short pier," Kyle told her, attacking a man-size fern with the machete. "Then what?"

"I decided to go to San Francisco and surprise him. I borrowed some of Lauren's sexy clothes, packed the bare minimum, and arrived unannounced at the hotel."

"He was there with someone else."

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Figures. A jerk wouldn't change his spots."

"Hmmm."

"So you decided not to waste the weekend and got rid of your virginity with a total stranger."

"Something like that." The trail had widened and she came alongside him. "We had great sex, what are you complaining about?"