Show No Fear (13 page)

Thanks to the mysterious delivery that morning, Lucy would get a decent meal, at last.

She had scarcely finished eating when Buitre shouted unexpectedly, “Get up! You’re leaving.”

The team members regarded each other in alarmed confusion.

“Where are we going?” Fournier dared to inquire.

“No questions. Follow the squad commander,” the deputy replied, pointing to David and his three sidekicks, Estéban, Julian,
and Manuel, all of whom clutched their AK-47s.

With the beans sitting heavily in her stomach, Lucy rose, suspicious of the FARC’s intent. The rebels were notorious for relocating
their hostages. Why would they treat the UN team any differently? She sent Gus a worried look. His alert expression only increased
her apprehension. Were they being marched to a different camp? How long or arduous would the hike be?

“You,” Buitre called to Bellini. “Carry the bucket.”

Looking mystified, Bellini did as he was told. With a cautious peek inside the pail of hammered tin, he sent the others a
sheepish grin. “Soap and towels,” he explained.

Lucy sagged with relief. Hallelujah! They weren’t being sent on another long march. They were being led somewhere to bathe!

As they entered a second path on the north side of the clearing, a watery sun slid from behind the clouds, further lifting
their spirits. It sent feeble rays through the canopy, enhancing every pigment of green around them. The sound of rushing
water grew from a hiss into a gushing enticement to hurry.

They burst upon a clearing with a chorus of appreciation. A twenty-foot cataract spilled with dizzy abandon over a cliff,
thundered into a basin the size of a back-yard pool, then tumbled onward over a series of smaller rapids to disappear into
the lush forest.

The waterfall drawn upon the map? Lucy wondered, catching Gus’s eye.

Bellini dropped the bucket as he and Carlos raced to see who could undress the fastest. Shucking her boots, Lucy watched Gus
to see what he would do. He had hidden the little dagger in the bungalow near their mat, but he still carried the map in his
trousers, the phone in his boot. Surely he’d be nervous about parting with either.

Deciding her clothing needed a bath as much as she did, Lucy removed just her boots and socks before wading into the shallows.
Shocked by the cold temperature, she hesitated a split second, then dove into the pool headfirst.

Bone-chilling water closed over her, numbing the itchy welts on her neck. Thunder roared in her ear, muffling the exclamations
of Bellini and Carlos as they waded in the shallows. A current of frigid water threatened to wash her downstream. Fighting
her way through it, she anchored herself on a large rock at the bottom and, ignoring her air-starved lungs, reveled in her
momentary isolation.

A sudden disturbance had her looking around. A shadow flashed before her eyes. A powerful arm coiled abruptly around her midsection,
and she was hauled to the surface with breathtaking speed.

“You all right?” Gus rasped, water spiking his eyes as he searched her with real concern.

Embarrassed that she’d alarmed him for no reason, Lucy felt her face heat. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She’d forgotten that she was
supposed to clear decisions with her partner first. “Sorry,” she added.

His mouth firmed with disapproval. “You shouldn’t dive into unfamiliar waters,” he chastised, his kicks powerful enough to
keep them both afloat. “I thought you hit your head on a rock.”

“No, I just wanted some time to myself. Sorry,” she repeated. Glancing self-consciously toward shore, she caught sight of
Manuel picking up one of Gus’s boots. At her soft gasp, Gus turned his head and frowned.

“Estéban,” Manuel called, holding up the boot for his friend to see. “Look at the size of Gustavo’s feet!” He tossed it at
Estéban, who held it up and hooted.

They had the left boot, the one with the phone in it. “Put it down,” said Gus, managing to keep his tone mild. Releasing Lucy,
he headed toward the shallows and was pushing himself out of the water to get his point across.

“Hey, señora,” Estéban called, ignoring him to grin at Lucy. “Is it true what they say about a man’s feet?”

Manuel pointed down at his friend’s boots and collapsed onto a boulder, laughing.

With Gus bearing down on him and angered by his friend’s nonverbal insult, Estéban hurled the boot at Gus. The heavy boot
landed with a splash next to Carlos, who snatched it up and swiftly upended it. Flicking Gus a tense look, Carlos rounded
on David, who’d been watching passively up to that point. “Who’s in charge here?” he demanded. “Do you want your guests to
get jungle rot?”

Coming sharply to attention, David stalked toward his friends to admonish them.

As Gus went to put the boot back with its mate, Lucy realized he’d jumped in with his pants on. If the map was still in the
pocket as she suspected it was, it would be nothing but a soggy wad of paper by now.

Oh, no. Surely he’d considered that.

But as he pulled his sagging pants up over the pale strip of flesh beneath his tan line, he sent her a flat look that said
it all.

He’d opted to save her when she didn’t even need saving, over keeping the map dry.

Terrific.

If the JIC never got the images they had taken, then all was lost. They might as well not have stolen the map in the first
place.

CHAPTER 8
      

I
n the dusk’s purplish light, Lucy could see Gus kneeling in the corner of their cubby, taking the sat phone out of his boot.
What are you doing?
she nearly asked, but the sharp question would have been overheard by the other team members as they settled down for the
night.

Her incredulity mounted as he powered up the phone, hiding it inside his buttoned-up jacket. She realized he had to be testing
whether it had been damaged when the boot was thrown into the water, but her heart thudded with concern that the phone’s lit
display might be noticed by the others.

Dropping to her knees beside him, she helped him shield its bluish glow. Clearly it still worked.

Set to mute, the phone didn’t make a sound.

As he stared down inside his jacket, Lucy regarded its reflection in his eyes. He sent her a quick smile of relief and she
realized that they were getting satellite coverage, at last, right here in the camp, where the canopy had been thinned.

With quick thumb work, he uploaded the images of the map to the JIC, waited several seconds to make certain the message was
fully sent, then powered the phone down, putting it back in his boot.

Peering over her shoulder, Lucy strained her ears for any indication that the others might have noticed. Hearing nothing but
sniffles and groans and low murmurs, she relaxed. Gus had taken a risk, yes, but he’d made headway on their objective.

“Ready for bed?” he asked, casually setting his boots aside.

“Sure.” She reached for her own boots, tugging them off.

“If your clothes are still wet, you’d better take them off,” he warned, stepping out of his pants.

She didn’t even want to know what kind of strange jungle fungus she might contract if she didn’t. Stripping down to just her
bra and underwear, she shivered at the encroaching chill. Hanging her clothes up, she joined Gus under the mosquito netting,
squirming into the warmth that awaited her under their common blanket.

Her senses leapt as her bare legs brushed his. This was the first time they’d gone to bed together nearly naked. The novelty
jolted her nervous system. She wasn’t sure she could even sleep this way. Keeping to the edge of the mat, she tried to warm
herself without touching too much of Gus at once.

It wasn’t easy, no more than it was easy to ignore the yearnings that ebbed and flowed in her like a warm tide.

“So what did you do with the map?” she whispered, wondering if the soggy thing was still in his hanging pants pocket.

“Buried it in the woods,” he replied. Without warning, he turned onto his side, hooked an arm around her waist, and pulled
her closer. The weight of his sex brushed against her thigh. She was positive she couldn’t sleep this way.

“I don’t understand why you jumped into the water with your clothes on,” she commented, determined to ignore her body’s awareness.

“No, I guess you wouldn’t,” he replied.

Lucy stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. If you’d had the kind of training I’ve had, you wouldn’t wonder why. That’s all.”

“So now my training is deficient?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Outside their bungalow, the rebel camp went suddenly dark. Water hissed over the campfire’s embers. Buitre switched off his
generator, making the hum of insects seem suddenly louder.

“Look, I’m not trying to fight with you, Luce. We’re on the same side, you know. I’m not the enemy,” he murmured in her ear.

Given the longing rippling from her neck to her toes, she wasn’t so sure about that.

“We used to be best friends, remember?”

A vision of Gus driving from Rhode Island to Washington, D.C., in a blizzard so he could see her over Christmas break put
pressure on Lucy’s chest. “I remember,” she conceded.

A long, reflective silence ensued as more memories sluiced through her mind, every one of them tinged with tenderness and
love. Had her life really been that wonderful?

“What we had was pretty good,” he commented, revealing that his thoughts ran parallel to hers.

“We were young,” she reasoned. “Life wasn’t complicated like it is now.”

She gave a start at the feel of his finger running lightly from her forehead, over her cheekbone, and along the soft flesh
of her lower lip. Desire looped through her, tightening its hold on her like a satin ribbon, matched by equal parts fear.

“Does this feel complicated?” he asked her.

Lucy’s chest felt tight. For the past eight years, she’d focused exclusively on her career. There had been no place in her
life for tenderness or honesty. Yet here was Gus, touching her the way he used to, sweetly, gently, summoning a softness she
hadn’t allowed herself to feel, let alone reveal the need for. “Yes,” she breathed.

“Why?” His fingers moved lower, down the length of her neck, giving rise to a pleasant shiver, before sliding away to trace
her delicate collarbones.

“Because.”

“Because why?” His fingers drifted lower still, warming her as they traced the outline of her satin bra. With a crescendo
of desire, her nipples peaked.

She grabbed his hand, her heart pounding. “We can’t,” she protested. But desire outmatched her reason, and instead of pushing
him away, she pressed his palm to her aching breast.

Suddenly decisive, he pulled her under him, cupping her jaw and kissing her thoroughly as he settled between her thighs. Lucy
clung to him, helplessly responsive, her thoughts spinning in confusion.

But the hum of desire as Gus’s lips trailed fire down her neck quieted her fears.

They were consenting adults, they were
married,
at least according to their cover, and suddenly it didn’t seem so dangerous, so threatening.

He edged her bra aside, and the rasp of his tongue over her stiff nipple silenced her reticence once and for all. She wrapped
her arms and legs around him, reveling in his power and breadth, pleased by the way he’d transformed himself, heartbroken
by the reason for it.

Oh, Gus.
He must have been devastated when his father died. She wished he’d found a way to tell her, only she had severed communications
with him just months before, fully focused on her upcoming career with the CIA. She hadn’t wanted distractions to slow her
down.

She refused to consider that her decision had been a mistake. Still, she would have wanted to comfort him.

As he suckled her nipples, she sank her fingernails into the thick muscles of his back, longing to pull him closer, closer,
but he eluded her, nibbling and licking his way down her torso, swirling in and out of her navel.

Lucy gasped, her back arching off the mat as anticipation bathed her in moist heat.
Oh, please, yes.
The mountain air touched coldly on her naked breasts, but with the blanket around her knees and Gus’s head between her thighs,
she felt nothing but warmth and pleasure and heart-pounding anticipation as he tugged her panties down and stabbed his tongue
against her pulsing flesh.

It had to be the danger, the threat of discovery heightening her pleasure. My God, she hadn’t come with another person in
the same room for longer than she could remember, and here she was on the verge of shattering already. But then, this was
Gus—James, who used to know her, truly
know
her. She didn’t have to fake it with him.

Adding his clever fingers, he coaxed her higher. Climax ripped through Lucy, so powerful and so endless that it seemed to
wring her from the inside out. No sooner did it ebb than emotion ambushed her without warning.

As Gus covered her, nudged her slick opening, and sank implacably inside her, she held in the alarming urge to cry.

What is wrong with you? It’s just sex. Get a grip.