Her Only Desire (24 page)

Another turn, and they were passing dilapidated industrial buildings and shops with boarded-up windows. They pulled into a parking lot, the entrance guarded by a gate topped with rolled-up barbed wire. The chain-link gate slid back, and they barreled past a long row of shipping docks to a wider lot lit by security lamps on long poles, where three large helicopters awaited, blades chopping the air.

The man in the front passenger seat flashed her a smile. “Ever flown in one?”

She shook her head.

“Stick with me. You’ll be okay.”

The door locks clicked open, and she stepped barefoot onto crumbling pavement. Again, his arm went around her back, and this time she didn’t stiffen against it, accepting his support as he ushered her to the smallest of the three waiting aircraft. Metal steps were lowered by a crew member. Hands gripped her elbow to help her inside. The interior was not what she’d expected. Plush, leather-upholstered seats, a row of three facing the front of the helicopter, two facing backward. Her captor indicated with a hand that she should take one of the two backward-facing seats.

He pulled a blanket from the console compartment separating the two seats. “Here, you’ll need this. It gets cool in the upper elevations.”

Reminded she was wearing only a very short pair of pajama shorts and a tight tee, she reached for it, only to hesitate when the interior lights blinked on. She stared at his hands.

Dried blood streaked his palms and dirtied his sleeve.

His gaze dropped and he pushed the blanket toward her again, letting go the second she accepted it. A glance at his face told her she’d made a mistake. His expression was carefully neutral, no trace of a smile left. Not a hint of warmth.

Kara sank into the seat and pulled the blanket around her body, looking away from him. Oddly upset with herself for showing him even a hint of revulsion.

Hadn’t she known the rescue had come at a price? Just because she hadn’t witnessed the attack that removed the guards before she stepped out her door didn’t absolve her from any guilt over the fact men had died during the rescue. Intellectually, she knew it made no sense to feel ashamed, as though the violence were her fault, but good sense had nothing to do with why she’d been in that camp in the first place.

Three more men climbed into the cabin and took seats across from her and her rescuer. They sat, unstrapping belts and packs, and dropping their gear to the floor of the helicopter. Then helmets came off.

“You’ll need to buckle up,” came a gruff voice from beside her.

Because she’d screwed up before, she pasted on a smile before she looked his way. Her breath caught.

He’d removed his helmet, his armor, and the bloody jacket. Seated next to her on the edge of his seat, every thick muscle of his broad chest was defined by the T-shirt stuck to his sweaty skin. Her heartbeat thudded. He wasn’t her usual type. Too muscled, too burly, but good Lord, that physique didn’t intimidate her. He was built for protection. Something she desperately needed. That had to be why she was reacting this way, her body warming. And then she glanced up into his face.

Again, so not her type. And yet, her type, lean and sophisticated, wickedly handsome, instantly lost its appeal. This man’s face was shuttered, still, but radiated a quiet calm. The strength of his firm jaw, his firm mouth, the intensity of his dark gaze tugged at something inside her. His hair was dark and long, restrained by a thick rubber band. His brows were dark, but not so heavy they looked foreboding.

His gaze rested on hers, waiting for something. Oh yeah, he’d wanted her to buckle herself into the seat. Reaching beneath the blanket, she caught the two ends of the seat belt and buckled herself in.

Although the cabin was insulated, the sound of the blades beating the air and the drone of the powerful engine were overwhelming as the aircraft slowly lifted into the air. She glanced toward the parking lot. The other two craft were rising as well. The lot beneath them was empty, the security lights blinking out and leaving it dark.

Kara swallowed hard, wanting to relax, not trusting the situation she now found herself in. The men opposite her had their gazes trained away. Had he done that? Asked them not stare? Then she glanced at him again. He was leaning back against his seat, his body relaxed, but his head turned her way.

Across the short distance, their gazes locked. He gave her a small smile, then reached into the compartment again and pulled out a box of wet wipes and carefully cleaned his hands, streaks of red-brown grime soiling the white cloths. Then he reached under his seat, opened yet another compartment, and pulled out water bottles. He handed three to the men across the way, then another to her. It was cool, and she quickly twisted the cap and drank it down, groaning because the water tasted sweet after the warm, metallic-tasting stuff she’d been drinking from canteens in the camp.

When she lowered the bottle, she looked at him, wanting another, but he shook his head, mouthing,
Two-hour flight
.

And no bathroom. She nodded her understanding and sat back, pulling the blanket high around her shoulders. If she wouldn’t have looked foolish, she would have pulled it over her head to hide. She wanted to be alone. To think. But sleep was another kind of escape. She closed her eyes.

Kara gazed at the handsome man sitting across from her. His large brown eyes crinkled at the corners, a smile not reflected in the curve of his full, sensuous lips. With his deep brown eyes and thick, curling hair, he was easily the most beautifully made man she’d ever met. The fact she was sitting across from him, seemingly the center of his attention, thrilled her to her toes.

How had she gotten so lucky? Working as a lowly intern at Kemp & Young, she escaped notice most of the time. High-powered clients strode past reception without sparing a glance toward the row of desks where paralegals and secretarial support sat.

Lucio Marroquin had arrived with an entourage of his own assistants, sweeping past the desks, setting all the women atwitter because of his movie-star appearance and great wealth.
He’s visiting his American holdings
, Mr. Kemp’s executive assistant had whispered, although she ought to have known better. But she was a gossip without an audience, so she confided too much in Kara, because Kara was safe, the niece of Robert Young, therefore family, even if she was just an intern.

Dressed in the practice’s “uniform” of dark-skirted suit, pale blouse, and neat black heels, with her heavy hair neatly twisted into a French braid, Kara had been shocked when Lucio’s gaze clung to her as he passed, sweeping her from head to toe. The wink he gave her set her belly fluttering.

Just a month out of college, she had been pouring herself into her work, wanting to impress because she wanted her uncle’s endorsement when she applied for law school. Plus she needed the salary—her own parents were gone, and there was no one footing the bill for her education but her.

The fact she was now seated in a restaurant, a very public setting, was a huge risk. Her uncle wouldn’t tolerate her dating an important client.

Tonight’s venue had surprised her. Lucio had seemed to understand the need for secrecy from the start. He’d kept his glances so discreet when he happened upon her at the office that she hadn’t a clue he was interested. Not until he’d caught her leaving for the day, heading toward a VIA bus stand in downtown San Antonio.

His Lexus had been parked, and he was leaning against it as she strode by, giving him a polite nod, her cheeks flushed with pleasure at seeing him. He’d offered her a lift, and then invited her to dinner before he’d deposited her at her door.

And although she knew she was risking her job, she’d agreed. The days since had run together in a happy whirl of intimate dinners and dancing. And yet he’d kissed her only once.

Tonight, she hoped for more.

* * *

A hand touched her arm, and she jerked awake. The man beside her pointed toward the windows. Lights shined below them. A carpet of city lights. They were descending toward an airport.

She straightened in her seat and combed her hair with her fingers, out of habit, until she realized the men were watching her. How long had that been going on?

Cheeks heating, she kept her gaze averted, watching as they touched down near a hangar, a man with glowing torches waving them in.

And then she unbuckled, her stomach drawing inward, her breaths shortening. Tense because she was preparing to run, if she had to, even though she knew the man beside her would be impossible to escape. Still, she refused to be a victim. Not again.

She stood, dropping the blanket.

“Put it over your head,” he said, his voice even.

Kara drew a deep breath.
No, no, no.
She wasn’t safe. Covering herself voluntarily was too much to ask when she didn’t know what he was going to do.

His breath billowed his cheeks, and he set his hands on his hips. “Look, the hangar is ours, but we can’t be sure who might be watching. Do you want to be seen?”

He said it without any inflection in his voice. If he’d softened it, cajoled her, she wouldn’t have trusted him. If he’d ordered her to, she would have bolted. How had he known?

Slowly, she reached down and dragged up the blanket, giving him one last look, trying to read into his expression to know what he intended. But her fate couldn’t get any worse, could it? She pulled it over her head.

Hands guided her to the doorway. Heat sank into the blanket as she hovered there, listening to his heavy tread as he stepped down. Then arms surrounded her, lifting her. He carried her.

Because she was frightened again, she held still, barely breathing, afraid she’d begin to cry because she was exhausted, nearly at the end of her strength.

A car door opened, and he lowered her, sliding her across a seat. The blanket still over her head, she scooted farther away. He nudged her feet then sat beside her. The door closed.

And then a steady pull removed the blanket. She blinked.

There was warmth in the smile he gave her. “You’re going to be okay.”

Afraid to believe, she only nodded.

“What’s your name?” he asked, studying her face.

Kara swallowed. He really didn’t know. Maybe it was best for now that she keep it that way. “Who are you?”

His eyes narrowed. “I work for a company that provides specialized services. The men in the other hut—their company hired us to retrieve them. By any means necessary.”

“Your services must be very expensive.”

“They are.”

He glanced away, and she drew another deep breath, feeling like she had the moment the ropes around her wrists had been cut and she’d been shoved into the dirty hut—glad to put distance between her and her captors, but with a sinking sensation her situation was going to get worse. Only she hadn’t landed in another squalid place. With a start, she realized she was sitting in a limousine.

First the plush interior of the helicopter, now this. He wasn’t kidding about his services coming at a high price. Not something she found comforting at the moment, because she couldn’t be sure money wouldn’t become a factor in his rescue of her.

He rapped the window separating their compartment from the driver’s. The car pulled away from the hangar, tinted glass hiding the occupants and dulling the harsh glare of the early morning sun rising above a ridge of mountains in the distance. Where the hell were they? The Sierra Madres? Could she be in Monterrey?

“I’m Sergei Gun,” he said, his sharp-eyed gaze returning to her.

She opened her mouth, ready to give her name, but something stopped her.

He sighed. “It’s okay. You don’t know who to trust. I get it. We’ll get you to the safe house. Get you showered and fed. Find you some clothes,” he said, his glance dropping to her shirt. “Then we’ll talk.”

He held her with that dark, intelligent stare for a moment longer, and then settled back against the seat, letting out a deep breath and easing his head side to side as though relaxing too-tense muscles.

Kara continued to watch him, although her eyelids were getting heavy again. She’d catnapped in the helo, but she hadn’t had a lot of rest since she’d woken after Lucio had drugged her.

Lucio.
How she hated him. He’d played her from the start. She’d been so enamored, so sure he’d treated her well out of respect and affection, she hadn’t realized she was being vetted. That he’d only wanted to confirm the fact she was a virgin.

Still was, she hoped, although she couldn’t be sure. The moment her mind had cleared, she’d been frozen in fear, realizing she’d been stripped and dressed in someone else’s clothing. She’d woken groggy in the back of a covered military transport, guarded by men wearing Mexican military uniforms, but felt no different, no soreness where it counted.

The car sped up, zipping past streets that wound higher and higher up the side of a mountain, until at last they approached a walled compound with a set of iron gates and drove through them, one other vehicle in their entourage following them.

They parked in front of a large many-doored garage. A tall, handsome man strode toward them, his long black hair tied back into a ponytail. Her type—urban, lean, moving like a cat. But her type had betrayed her, so she jerked back when he opened her door.

He bent into the doorway, his gaze noting her appearance then darting to the man beside her. A dark brow rose. “Seriously,
amigo
?”

“Didn’t know what else to do with her.”

“And now she’s seen the compound? You couldn’t at least have hooded her?”

Her rescuer shrugged. “She’s my responsibility.”

“Without a doubt,” the striking Hispanic man said, raising his hands. “
Dios
, what a fucking mess.” Then he turned on his heel and strode away, his black boots striking the cobbled drive like bullets.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she said, not framed as a question.

The large man beside her didn’t say a word, letting himself out of the car, then striding around to her door. He held out his hand. Once she stood beside him, he ducked and whipped her up into his arms.

Gasping, Kara grabbed for his shoulders. “I can walk.”

“Well, you shouldn’t. Your feet are a mess.”

At the mention of their condition, they began to throb. They’d been cut and bruised on the trek through the jungle, but she’d shoved her discomfort aside. She had more important things to be worried about, like where he was taking her now.

She glanced around as they walked beneath an arch into a courtyard, and through tall wooden doors that looked sturdy enough and old enough to have been around in the days of the conquistadors.

Inside, the walls were a soft ivory, the furnishings dark and massively proportioned. Warm-colored Saltillo tiles covered the floors. They walked through the entryway, then down a long, wide hallway to a door near the end. Turning, he bumped her up gently against the door, reached beneath her for the handle, and pushed open the door.

Once inside, he strode to the bed and set her on the edge of a soft comforter.

The urge to bolt upward to keep from soiling the fabric was in her, but he hovered over her, and suddenly her stomach dove to her toes. Was this, after all, what he’d been after?

His gaze raked her face and glanced away, sucking in a deep breath before raking a hand through his hair and aiming a glare her way. “I’m not going to rape you.”

“So says every rapist.”

“No, they don’t.” He closed his jaw and shook his head. “Look, we’re both tired and cranky. And you need to soak those feet. There’s Epsom salts under the sink. Use them. I’ll be back for you at dinnertime.” He turned on his heels, seemingly all too eager to escape her. “Help yourself to the clothes in the closet.”

After the door slammed behind him, she jerked up, striding to it and placing her ear against the door. The sound of his footsteps stomping away, echoed from down the hall. Her shoulders sagged and she turned, leaning against the cool wood for support.

His anger hadn’t frightened her one bit. It had reassured her as no amount of spoken assurances would have. He didn’t mean her any harm. She was safe. For now. And at last, alone.

Kara glanced down at her body, and her lips drew away from her teeth in a feral snarl. Stepping away from the door, she stripped the shirt over her head, shoved down her skimpy shorts, and then stood still. Her own body was so dirty, her scent made her stomach roil.

She’d been kidnapped, drugged, forced into unbearable conditions without a single explanation as to why, but with one bit of knowledge that left her trembling where she stood. She couldn’t go home. Ever.

* * *

Serge headed straight to the security room where he knew Alejandro would be waiting for him. Flinging open the door, he held up a hand. “Don’t. Not now.” Then he glanced at the monitor with the feed from the camera inside the woman’s room. The expression on her face as she tore off her clothes was that of a woman who’d reached the very end of her rope. She snarled, whipping off her clothing and grinding it into the floor with her heels. Then she stood perfectly still, her expression shifting from feral anger to abject dejection, the corners of her mouth turning downward and fat tears slipping down her cheeks. In moments, she was sobbing, her arms wrapped around her middle for comfort.

“You did the right thing,” Alejandro said softly. “She needs to be here. With us.”

Serge was incapable of answering, he was so struck. His fists curled at his sides. His heart squeezing, his body taut, he continued to watch, listening as she sobbed. The longer he stood there, sharing her pain, his determination grew. Her beauty wasn’t the thing that drew him, though he’d never seen a lovelier woman. Her face was a perfect oval, her mouth soft and plump. Her gray eyes were changeable, shifting from cold flint to a deep, moody storm-cloud gray. Her long hair, though tangled, was thick and soft, and curled to hug her shoulders. Her slender curves and neat, round breasts were also attractive, but not the reason he was ensnared.

Instead, he recalled how she’d fought him, how even when she’d been so frightened a pulse drummed at the side her throat, she’d kept her chin high. Her pride, even in the face of an immovable object—him—had been just as palpable. As frightened and vulnerable as she was, her spirit was a glorious thing he wanted to protect.

The realization of just how determined he was to save her, no matter what kind of trouble she might be in, made his skin prickle and his heart thud slowly in his chest. He’d earn her trust, learn her secrets, keep her safe.

His mission, now, was her.