The Protector (21 page)

“Poor little girl. Not such a spitfire anymore, are you? I’ll wipe those tears off later, I promise.”

She wasn’t supposed to understand what he was saying but his roving hand was quite specific. She pushed his hand away, her skin crawling from his touch. There wasn’t much room to move, squashed as she was against the men in the
front. She crossed her arms in front of her as she stared back at him unblinkingly, her chin jutting up in defiance.

Dilaver stared back for a moment, then shrugged. “Bring out the maps,” he ordered.

Vivi hugged herself tightly as she listened to the men figuring out their next move. She was in a dangerous situation, among men who put very little value on lives. She had just witnessed exactly how little when they had sent their own men to their deaths to ensure their escape. As a young goat-herdess, she was pretty much valueless. But as a GEM operative, she still had a weapon or two up her proverbial sleeve. She would wait for the right moment, give herself a chance to escape without getting killed. She owed that at least to the man who had died for her.

The road was dusty and filled with potholes, and
every bounce and groan of the truck jarred Vivi’s bones. Her captors ignored her as they reworked their plans, pointing to various sections of their maps.

She listened quietly, gauging the enemies’ intellect. Dilaver’s orders were crisp and decisive. He was a good strategist, albeit a bloodthirsty one. He wanted revenge in a big way and told the interpreter that he wanted him to go into town to pay for informants. The man had just lost four trucks, men and a trailer of “goods” to someone he had thought would be a new business partner. He didn’t want to leave without letting the other side know that they had made an enemy for life.

From his earlier actions and his current demeanor, she could see that the man was a mercenary at heart, someone who liked the taste of battle, who had little regard for morals or human lives. On a whim, right in the middle of an ambush, he had decided to take her despite the danger to himself and his men. In one split second, to make his escape, he had totally wiped out a whole truckload of his men with an RPG launcher. But Vivi understood that his thoughts hadn’t been on rescuing or avenging his men. Everything was focused on someone having tricked him, won the battle, and
then taken away something belonging to him. He had wanted to destroy the trailer of women rather than “lose” them to the other side. And now he wanted one final showdown, a tit for tat.

Vivi didn’t care if Dilaver destroyed anything that belonged to the Triads, as long as innocent lives weren’t involved. That was GEM’s game plan, anyhow. Admiral Madison’s, too, she supposed. GEM wanted Dilaver and the Triads out of the way while they were dealing with Maximillian Shoggi’s secret rendezvous in town.

And now she saw exactly why. Dilaver wasn’t a bottom-feeder. He would find out that Mad Max was in the area quickly enough, and every gunrunning counterpart, from shady to the shadiest, knew who Maximillian Shoggi was and what had happened to Cash Ibrahim. If they were to meet, Mad Max would see Dilaver as a good replacement of his dead right-hand man and, in all likelihood, make an alliance with the man. No, that would mean a setback for GEM and COS Command. They wanted to keep Mad Max as weak as possible so they could use him to further their agenda. Then they would take him down once and for all. Of course, that would also make Admiral Madison happy; he had probably lost some men to people like Mad Max and Dilaver.

Vivi changed the direction of her thoughts from the admiral to his SEAL team. Vivi wondered how they were doing on the other side of the bank, with their ambush of the first couple of trucks. Eight men against at least two dozen targets. Dilaver hadn’t traveled unprepared. She hoped that everything was under control back there. And that no one was hurt.

Jazz
. She hadn’t been able to talk to him privately, not with so many listening in. She had wanted to say more than “be careful.” But what could she have added? They were all heading for battle and…She almost laughed out loud. She, Vivi Verreau, the woman who hated men in uniforms, was actually in the middle of a real firefight with them; was, in fact, worried about their being injured. The irony of it was laugh
able, except after witnessing the gory battle, there was nothing funny at which to laugh.

We do what we can to save the world, chouchou.
Jazz’s words echoed in her head as she stared into the growing darkness outside. How would he react when he found out that she was missing? She badly needed to see him, to reassure herself that he was okay. She half regretted expressing her harsh views about soldiers to him. He had been exemplary toward her; in fact, toward all women that he had met. She knew now it wasn’t just an act. From the moment she had watched his chivalry while she was in disguise, to the other day when he had accompanied her in her rounds to deliver food and aid to the orphanages, he had shown nothing but respect. And, she acknowledged with an inward smile, he had exuded enough sexy charm to win over everyone except maybe Juliana Kohl.

Those men, the SEALs on one side and her men on the other, were willing to lay down their lives to extract a trailer full of young women. She had seen their anger and heard their disgust when she had briefed them about Dilaver’s side gift to the Triads. When she had first seen that satellite feed of how young that one girl was, and how brutally she had been treated by Dilaver’s men, something had died inside. She couldn’t save that poor soul, now in the hands of those nameless border guards. She peered at the bastard dozing beside her. She wanted to kill him. And she knew now, so did those men who had been fighting on her side.

She had been taught to always look at the big picture, to realize that some sacrifices were necessary. She bit her lip, thinking of how many had sacrificed themselves to get to the trailer, for people they hadn’t ever met. And she bowed her head in grief at the man with the gas mask, who had died. He hadn’t known it, but were it not for his sacrifice, she would have given up her life to ensure that Dilaver didn’t reach the girls. Using CS gas had been a brilliant idea. Dilaver couldn’t go through that without any protective masks, no matter how well armed his group was.

When she made it back, she would make sure to find out who this man was and visit his grave.
If
she made it back.

Vivi knew she would probably be killed or sold off once these men were done with her. She could take a few of them down but it was highly unlikely that they wouldn’t shoot and torture her once they found out she had more skills than the average country girl.

She looked outside the window. The truck was climbing higher up into the hills, heading for the deep forests where many a group of guerrillas had found sanctuary. Even if she managed to escape, she had to find her way out of the wilderness so that a chopper could pick her up. She gave a slight shake of her head. If she managed to escape, Dilaver would surely be looking for her and a chopper would pinpoint her location. And of course, he had that handy RPG. No chopper till she hiked a ways off.

She needed another strategy. Again, her thoughts veered back to Jazz. He was his team’s strategist, and she admired the way he could see a straight line through a maze of problems. What would he have done, she wondered, if he were on her side of the river? She bet the SEALS had been cursing their heads off when she and her goats showed up at the scene. She would give anything to have seen their expressions, especially Jazz’s. What would he have thought of that strategy?

No doubt she probably would have gotten an earful had she had her headset on. Maybe not. She had never heard Jazz curse or seen him angry. Even when he was rescuing Rose, he had used strategy over emotion, paying for the girl and avoiding direct confrontation with the drunken soldiers. No, she imagined Jazz would probably be strategizing now, trying to figure out where Dilaver was heading. She could see him, getting the news from her commander that she had been taken, standing there in his camouflage—

Oh my God.

Vivi sat straight up, eyes widening in startled realization.

Oh my God, oh my God.
The man with the gas mask. His
pants. His pants were camies. They weren’t the Triad black that her men had been wearing. She had caught sight of the black shirt and assumed—
oh my God.
Her mind raced as she tried to remember. She was very certain she saw camouflaged pants because her eyes were trained on the figure as he ran.

Vivi felt sick to her stomach. If that was a SEAL, she knew who would insist on being on her side of the riverbank. It wouldn’t be Hawk who had to direct the action as Patrol Leader. It had to be Jazz.

Her guts clenched as a cry of denial caught in her throat. Jazz couldn’t have survived that blast. Dilaver had killed him when he ordered the RPG to be used on that truck.

She had to live, but she was dying inside. Not Jazz. Please, not him. She was going to find a way to get back alive. She was going to see this whole thing through and then personally finish off Dilaver herself.

“We’ll stop here for the night,” Dilaver ordered. “I need to take a piss anyway. No one is following us.”

At the welcome news, Vivi opened her eyes. They had been traveling for hours, reaching the hills as the darkness descended. At one point earlier, Dilaver had decided that riding in the dark with a woman in front might be dangerous, so he had tied her hands together just before the sunlight disappeared. Not that she could have escaped them. She was waiting for open air, where there was a chance to escape and hide in the cover of darkness.

When they hadn’t stopped, she had become resigned to the fact that it might be a while before she could actually do that. She had been trained in escape-and-evasion skills in case she was ever held hostage.

Vivi flexed her tied wrists. Well, time to put those rusty skills into practice. When the time came, she needed another diversion. Dark humor popped up in her head. She supposed goats wouldn’t work this time.

From listening to them, she knew they had followed the dirt
road closest to the river that wound up the hill. It was smart—less likely to get lost and plenty of water, if they needed to hide out.

Dilaver opened the door and jumped out. The driver and guide exited from the other side. Vivi remained where she was.

Dilaver paused to look at her. “Out,” he ordered. “You don’t need any interpreter for that word.”

When Vivi shook her head, he reached in and pulled her out by her tied wrists, and she tumbled from the huge truck onto the ground. Not letting go of her wrists, he dragged her along, uncaring as her body slid against the rocky ground.

“I’m going off to the bushes,” he said as he casually continued while his prisoner struggled to get on her feet. “Which direction is the river so I get my bearings when I am done?”

Vivi’s mind worked furiously as she winced from the rocks and weeds cutting her bare skin. Maybe she didn’t need a diversion. The bastard was something else. He was taking her to the bushes before he even had a chance to stretch his legs after a long trip. There was something about him that told her that the gunrunner was very used to living on the go.

She heard the water from the river. This high up, it moved quickly, tumbling down toward the muddier banks in the lower areas. Dilaver kept walking. She turned to look behind her. His men were stretching and setting up camp. They didn’t seem to be worried about their leader going off alone. Okay, one thing going right for once. Dilaver alone.

He tethered her to some low-lying branch, using the length of rope dangling from her wrists. It was dark but she could see parts of his face in the moonlight.

“I think you know what I want, spitfire. You don’t need to speak the same language for what I have in mind, but maybe you speak French? I speak a little Francais.” Vivi heard him unzipping his fly. His next sentence was spoken in hesitant French. “It’s hard to piss with a hard-on, baby.”

Vivi screamed and let out a stream of words in the local
mixture of several languages, calling Dilaver every name she could think of. She wanted the men setting up camp to think that their boss was having a good time. She could hear their laughter as her shrieks reached their ears.

Dilaver laughed. “Hang on, let me finish here. Then you can scream all you want.”

As she listened to the sounds of him pissing, she positioned her feet, ready to attack. It had to be done right. If she didn’t knock out Dilaver quickly, he could call for help; tied up like this, she needed at least a few minutes to cut the ropes. She tensed up, waiting for the right moment.

Dilaver gave the usual male grunt as he answered nature’s call. He turned back to Vivi, his shadow looming menacingly. Leaning close, he untethered the loose end of the rope. He was just close enough. Screaming to surprise as well as cover any sounds from him, Vivi leaped and wrapped her legs around his waist, using her tied fists to smash into his Adam’s apple, his most vulnerable point at that moment.

Stunned by the unexpected blow, his breath expelling in a big
whoosh
, Dilaver went backward from her sudden weight, but even in pain, his reflexes were incredibly fast. As he stumbled, his hands came up almost immediately, pulling her head back by her hair. Wincing at the pain, Vivi grabbed his thick neck, pressing her thumbs viciously against his windpipe to cut off his air. They both panted as he weaved around like a mad man, still clutching her hair fiercely. When he recovered his footing, he raised one fist, at the same time shaking his head hard, trying to dislodge her hands. She held on obstinately.

Just as Dilaver’s fist swung down, a shadow jumped out of nowhere and an arm blocked it from landing on Vivi’s face. Both Vivi and Dilaver froze for an instant in their struggle as they turned to look at the intruder. The instant was what the newcomer needed. There was a loud smack and this time Dilaver crumpled to the ground.

Her legs still wrapped around her captor tightly and too surprised by the new twist to jump off, Vivi fell on top of the
big man. It wasn’t a bad move since it muffled Dilaver’s cries enough to make them less suspicious to his men.

But Dilaver was a big man. His instincts were that of a man who would fight while he still had strength. He rolled, trying to disengage her. In doing so, he exposed his back to the other person on the scene. Vivi looked up and saw a karate chop coming down at the base of the thug’s skull. There was another painful-sounding crack and her captor suddenly went limp, his weight trapping her against the ground.

This time he didn’t move and his dead weight crushed her breath from her for a few seconds before it was suddenly removed. Before she could gulp in fresh air, she was unceremoniously lifted onto her toes. The man held her face as he gave her a swift and thorough kiss. Hard. Bruising.

Her heart seemed to leap into her mouth as Vivi could only breathe his name into his mouth, “Jazz…” Still silent, he set her gently back on her feet and immediately knelt down beside Dilaver.

Vivi understood. No time right now. They had to secure Dilaver long enough to make an escape. But she couldn’t stop the smile trembling on her lips as she quickly cut the ropes so they could use them to tie the unconscious man. Jazz cuffed him quickly and efficiently, then did the same to his feet. Then he took out a handkerchief to gag him.