Jungle Inferno (3 page)

She slipped into bed and turned out the light. All those years from the time they were children, forging a relationship that outsiders couldn’t pierce. Being there for each other. Was it love, what they had? They’d hardly spent enough intimate time with each other to know. Whatever it was, though, it was unbreakable.

“We’ll always be there for each other, right?” That’s what he’d said the last time she’d seen him.

She’d nodded. “Always. If you need me, I’ll come to you.”

“Same goes, darlin’.”

How could they even imagine he would be the one asking her for help.

As she always did at night she closed her eyes and willed Mark’s face to come to her. But tonight it wasn’t the one with the rumpled black hair and laughing vivid blue eyes. Tonight it was the one with deep ridges of pain and anguish that darkened the blue almost to black.

Tidbit.

She sat bolt upright.
I’m here, Mark.

I… you. Please…kill…

Faith felt shock race through her. Kill? Whoever captured him was going to kill him? Her heart banged against her ribs like a jackhammer. She lay back down and forced a calmness she didn’t feel. With an effort of will she directed all her energy into the message.

Tell me where you are. Please.

But no matter how long she lay awake, straining her senses, the only thing that answered her was silence.

The morning did little to ease the tension left from the night before. First thing, Faith took care of things hanging fire with her agent and her publicity person. Then she deliberately shut down her computer, ruthlessly driving her mind away from the latest book she was trying to start and swallowed the last of her coffee. It was time to talk to her aunt.

“Of course you can come and see me,” Aunt Vivi told her. After a brief silence, she added, “Is this personal or professional?”

Faith swallowed a sigh. “Both.”

“All right. Come over about ten. The house is quiet by then.” Aunt Vivi opened her front door the moment Faith pulled into the driveway.

“Have you been watching for me?” Faith gave a small laugh.

“Yes.” Vivi nodded. “I felt the tension in your voice and sensed your trouble.” She put an arm around her niece. “Come in. I’ve made some tea. I want to know what’s troubling your mind and shutting down your inner person.” They sat at the kitchen table, scene of every important conversation Faith could remember, inhaling the fragrance of the vanilla tea that Vivi liked.

“Mark contacted me,” Faith said at last.

Vivi raised one eyebrow. “That’s nothing new. The two of you have been sending each other telepathic messages since you were teenagers.” Faith shook her head. “This is different. It frightened me.”

“Oh?” Vivi frowned. “How so? I can’t imagine Mark doing anything to scare you.”

“He’s in trouble. That alone scares me. Mark has always been the solid, indestructible rock.” She raked her fingers through her hair. The two of them had one unbreakable commitment to each other. No matter where they were, if one of them needed the other, they’d come. At once. And she would, if she could only find out where he was. “And I got such an image of pain. Of agony. And I felt it too.” Vivi took her niece’s hand. “Remember I told you a long time ago, when you first came to me to talk about this, that you might also have some empathic abilities too?

That, in the right circumstances, you could sense other people’s feelings and emotions.

And pain.”

“Yes. I remember.” Faith picked up her tea cup. “But I’ve never felt it as strongly as this.” She forced herself to look directly at Vivi. “I felt as if the pain was mine. You know?”

“And that’s because of the relationship between you and Mark.” Vivi sighed. “I’ve always wondered why the two of you never moved forward with what I knew you felt for each other.”

Faith shrugged. “Time. Circumstances. Not wanting to ruin a friendship with something that might not last.” She shook her head. “Now I wish we had.”

“If wishes were horses.” Vivi quoted her favorite saying. “I hope you’ll both acknowledge your feelings once you’re together again.”

“If only. Aunt Vivi, it frightens me to think what he must be going through. And I don’t even know where he is.”

Vivi rose and refilled their cups. She squeezed Faith’s shoulder, a gesture of warmth. “You have no idea if your messages got through to him.”

“No. None at all. And I had the feeling his were being shut down on that end.

That’s why only bits and pieces come through.”

Vivi nodded. “That’s entirely possible. If they have a telepath among them he could be closing the psychic door.”

“I keep hoping that in one of these messages he’ll be able to give me some kind of clue as to where he is. If he even knows. Right now I don’t even have a starting point.” She ran her finger around the rim of the cup. “And I have to be able to tell him I got his messages to me.” She looked up. “That’s why I’m here. I can’t do this myself, especially if they have a psychic blocker.”

“All right.” Vivi put one of her hands over Faith’s. “I think for this we need other members of the Circle.” She leaned over and kissed her niece’s cheek. “Don’t sweat it.

We’ll get this done.”

Faith went to stand at the big window overlooking the backyard. The abundance of flowers always soothed her, calmed her nerves when she was jittery. Right now she could have used a truckload of them. The thought of Mark somewhere in danger, wounded, maybe dying, terrified her in ways she couldn’t admit. If that was the case, the last thing she wanted to think about was all the years they’d wasted. Years they could have been together instead of off chasing dreams.

No! She wouldn’t think about that. Somehow she would let him know his message came through and she was on it. Finding him. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, as if the very friction could dispel the cold that had settled inside her.

She heard Vivi speaking softly on the phone, then come to stand beside her. “Sarah and Emily will be here in about an hour. Then we’ll see what we can do.”
Something quick, I hope.

* * * * *

The sun was a globe of fire creeping up in the sky, turning everything below it into an oven. It was barely nine o’clock in the morning yet Mark Halloran was sure the temperature was already close to triple digits. The humidity was as thick as a rainfall.

The roar and grunt of the howler monkeys was already splitting the air as they leaped from tree to tree feasting on the canopy leaves.

How the hell did people live in places like this?

Or work in them.

And this appeared to be a permanent camp, with tents, lean-tos and crude buildings. It also boasted a campfire pit and other amenities they wouldn’t have taken the time for in a transitory situation, unlike the temporary setup where the meeting had taken place. Where they’d been told the Wolf was going to meet with Escobedo’s group.

Rick Latrobe had a friend from his Special Ops days who was deep undercover with Escobedo’s group. He’d risked his life to get the message out that the Wolf was going to make a personal appearance. Unusual for him but this shipment was so large and involved so much money, Escobedo insisted.

Not at his camp, however. Not even the Wolf would be privy to its location. A meeting place not far away was set up. For the Wolf it would be in and out. Just like that. He would arrive with the shipment, Escobedo would bring the money. As soon as both parties were satisfied with the goods, the transaction would take place and that would be that.

Mark had gone to his commanding office, Major John Gregorio, with the information. The major had passed it up the chain and the word had come down to act.

The United States government had waited a very long time for a chance at the Wolf. To make it a two-fer upped the ante.

A simple mission. Get in. Take out the bad guys. Get out. One less group of Al Qaeda plotters to worry about. And the arms dealer meeting with them. That was the key. That’s what he and his men had been told. It was a chance to clean out a viper’s nest and take out a key arms player at the same time.

With the weakening of the Tupac Amaru terrorist group and the decline of Shining Path, Al Qaeda had been recruiting heavily and spending big money to rebuild Peru’s terrorist structure. Another foothold in South America for the promised Islamic world.

But someone had leaked the mission, Escobedo’s group was waiting for them and now most of his men were dead. After burning the bodies of Mark’s men they’d cleaned up every trace of what had taken place and moved, all of them including the Wolf, what Mark reckoned was about ten miles away.

He grunted, trying to shift to a more comfortable position. The tent gave him little protection him from the ruthless sun and having his ankle chained to a stake barely two feet away severely restricted his movements. For maybe the thousandth time he wondered what had gone wrong and landed him in this abominable mess.

God, what a mess it had been. One minute they were finding their positions to take their shots, carefully hidden, the target painted. The next they were the targets instead.

The noise of the AK47s still echoed in his ears, along with the stench of the blood of his dying men. They’d even gotten the comm guy they’d left at the insertion and extraction point with their gear.

He’d forced himself to look when they dragged the bodies into the center of the camp, piled them together and set them on fire. They stood watching with arrogant, evil grins on their faces, then opened bottles of whiskey to celebrate. Mark was sure it was a sight he’d never forget.

He knew what they wanted—the name of the man who had betrayed them. They could kill him and very well might but the source had to be protected at all costs.

Yet as much as they tortured him, for sport and pleasure as well as information, there were things he hung onto that kept his sanity intact. For one thing, despite his wounds he kept himself alert and counted the bodies. One was missing, Joey Latrobe.

The kid. The sniper. Rick’s brother, who’d brought them the information. Mark was convinced he wasn’t dead or they’d have found him. No, badly wounded or not, he’d found a way to hide from them. Now if Mark could only be sure he got away.

But what gave him real strength was his connection to Faith. God. Beautiful Faith.

The woman of his dreams. How stupid was he to walk away from what they could have to play soldier? No, not that. To defend his country. His sense of honor and patriotism was stronger than almost anything. But now, if he died here in this godforsaken hellhole, the only memory he’d have would be that long weekend they’d shared before he was deployed the first time.

And the erotic dreams that came to wipe away the pain.

When he closed his eyes she was in his arms again, her lush body naked against his, her breasts pressing against his chest. His hands coasted over her satiny skin, fingertips exploring every dip and hollow.

“It’s a good thing you aren’t around when I’m planning a mission,” he murmured, his lips against her throat. “I just look at you and my cock gets so big I’m afraid my pants won’t contain it.”

Her laugh was throaty and musical, and her fingers drifted down to close around his thick erection. “Good. That’s the way I like it.”

She moved her hand in a slow pumping motion and he groaned at the heat that rushed through him. Lowering his head he closed his lips over one taut nipple, pulling it into his mouth. It hardened even more at his touch and when he dragged his teeth over it lightly her grip on his cock tightened.

“Easy.” He released the nipple and lapped around the edge of it. “We don’t want the dance to end when the music has just begun.”

“Ah, but we can always dance again,” she reminded him.

He tasted the skin in the valley between her breasts, doing his best to take control of the situation even as her fingers continued to stroke the hard, thick length of his cock.

Light movements that teased him and heated his blood.

But then just being near her did that.

He drew tiny circles with his tongue in her navel, feeling the heat of her body scorching him. He inhaled, drawing her scent into his nostrils, her own perfume mingled with the musk of her arousal. His cock flexed in her fingers.

His tongue followed the sweet indentation where her thigh and hip joined, just a light, flickering touch. She whimpered a tiny sound that pierced him like a bolt of lightning. With a swift movement he lifted her hand from his shaft, rolled her to her back and spread her legs wide. Enjoying for a moment the sight of her pussy glistening with her juices, he bent his head and licked her slit end to end, giving the tip of her clit a tiny caress with his tongue.

God, she smelled and tasted so damn sweet. Better than any drink he’d ever had.

Better than the fanciest dessert. He took his time lapping her labia, sucking in every drop of juice on her tender flesh. His cock ached unbearably, the need to slide into her so great he shook with it. But he refused to deny himself the pleasure of her taste, or her scalding response to it.

Faith cried out, tunneling her fingers in his hair and clutching at his head. Her juices bathed his tongue, making her passage slick as he thrust his tongue inside her. He always tried to slow down but just touching her ramped up her hunger to such a level that he had only a thin veneer of control.

Capturing her clit with thumb and forefinger, he tongue-fucked her in earnest, with hard, steady strokes, her cream coating his tongue. The walls of her pussy fluttered, then clenched.

“Oh, please,” she begged.

He pinched her cit, hard, and she came with an explosion of desire, her cunt sucking his tongue in and locking it in place. Her hips bucked as he lapped and sucked and drew every last quiver from her. But when she laid back, limp, he rose to his knees and reached for the condom he’d tossed onto the mat beside them. Positioning the head of his cock at the entrance to her pussy, with one hard movement drove himself home.

She tightened around him, her breath hitching as she wrapped her legs around him and locked her ankles at the small of his back. Sliding his hands beneath the soft firmness of her ass, he thrust into her again and again and again. Even as her aftershocks were dying away new spasms began to ripple though her. She matched his rhythm, lifting herself to him as he slammed into her over and over.