Unexpected (16 page)

Her eyes flared at that low, intimate tone. Unfair! He couldn't go from mad to tender in a heartbeat, not when she'd expected more arguments, more anger. Damn it, she wasn't ready for concern, especially over
that.

Knowing her face had gone hot, Ray considered tossing him out the window. “No. Big. Deal,” she assured him through her teeth, letting him know she wanted it dropped.

“I should have let you rest.” He took a step closer so that she had to look up at him. “The second time I woke you . . . I don't know, Ray. You'd curled up against me in your sleep, and I woke up hard . . .”

Oh Lord. “Forget about it.”
Please.

“But that third time was entirely uncalled for. I've never been that excessive before.” His gaze searched her face, sending new heat to pool in her lower body. “I hope I didn't offend you, making love that way.”

Offend her? The pleasure had been so sharp, she'd screamed like a banshee. Images of Eli rousing her from sleep, his mouth at her nipple, his hand already pressing between her thighs, warm and rough and unrelenting, made her breathing labor and her skin burn.

With their one and only rubber already used, Eli had become inventive, holding back his own release to make certain she climaxed again and again. But that third time, he'd lost it, and she could still remember the thick, hot feel of his cum on her stomach. The look on his face as he'd exploded made her want to crawl right back in bed with him now. Ray closed her eyes in self-defense, but it didn't help.

She drew a shaky breath before daring to face him again. As usual, he saw too much, more than she'd ever let any other man see.

“We have to go. Now.”

Eli hesitated a heartbeat, reluctant to give up, before finally nodding. “I'm ready.”

Ray knew he'd only put his questions on hold. He wanted to know what last night meant to her, but she didn't really know, so how could she explain it to him? She was usually so confident, feeling uncertainty and weakness just sucked.

Unfortunately, the day got worse instead of better.

When they neared the camp, it was to see half a dozen men tossing their cookies with the verve of a pie-throwing contest. Some half stood, others were rolled into balls on the ground. They had their hands clapped to their mouths, around their middles, and in some cases holding their noses.

“Good God, it's like the plague.” Ray resisted the urge to cover her nose. “Sarita overdid it.”

“I'll say.” Eli curled his lip at the sounds the men made. “Hell, just watching them is about to turn my stomach.”

“Wimp,” she taunted, then had to pinch her lips together to hold down the orange she'd had for breakfast.

At that moment, they spotted Jeremy. He tottered over to the edge of camp, so green he blended with the jungle vegetation. He fell to his knees, wavered a moment, then began to heave violently.

“Huh. Montezuma's been busy with his revenge.”

“Goddamn it, he must've eaten with the guerillas,” Eli growled.

“And they told us he bitched about the food. Imagine how he'll feel now.” Ray would rather have faced three armed men than a yard full of vomit. She
hated
nausea. “This is just friggin' great. Now I'll have to contend with him being sick on top of executing a rescue.”

“You're all heart, Ray, you know that?”

Jeremy fell to his side with a groan that rivaled the others' combined. Ray did feel sorry for him, but merely shrugged. She had other things to contend with. “See the guard standing beside the ammunition shed, keeping out of reach of the sick men? He looks a little shaky himself, but I'd say he hasn't eaten yet.”

“I'd say he won't eat for hours now.”

Miguel stood at the other end of the compound, his hands on his head, his eyes wild with shock while his men fell like flies. He shouted and cursed at them in Spanish, to no avail. Either he hadn't eaten as much as his men, or he had a stronger constitution.

“Two men still standing,” Ray said, “and the ape is Miguel. There're two jeeps parked behind that ammunition shed. That's your job, Eli. Ready one jeep for us to take. You can temporarily disable the other to give us a head start, but don't kill it completely. They need it to survive.”

“And what'll you do?”

“I'll take care of the men.”

Eli didn't like that. “You promised Sarita you wouldn't hurt anyone.”

She glared at him for standing in her way. “Lucky for you, huh?”

Eli made a face. Ray was beginning to think he didn't take her seriously anymore. 'Course, why would he when he knew damn good and well she didn't want to hurt him?

They were hidden behind a line of trees, a thick layer of moss and dead leaves silencing their movements—as if anyone could hear over that awful retching racket anyway. Ray could guess what Eli would think of her plan, but she'd used the ploy before and it worked.

It'd be easier to get him out of the way first, so she ordered, “Slip around to the back of the shed. When I signal you, come in and grab your brother. I could do it myself, but since you're bigger, you'd be faster, and if he tosses his cookies . . . well, he's
your
brother.”

Ray waited for Eli to move, but instead he asked, “What are you going to do?”

“Save your brother. That's the plan, right?”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

Both tired and disgustingly emotional this morning, the last thing Ray wanted or needed was an excess of protectiveness from Eli. Leaning close so that their noses touched, she hissed, “I'm trying to get us the hell out of here with as little trouble as possible. Now. While everyone is still preoccupied barfing. So cut the bull, Eli. Can you carry your brother or not?”

“I can carry him. No problem.”

“Perfect. Give me a few minutes, then after you've taken care of the jeep, circle around and be ready.”

Eli nodded, now silent. But he still didn't move.

To hell with it, Ray decided. She handed Eli the Uzi, the binoculars, her canteen, and finally her vest.

Eli's brows came down. “Ray . . .”

“I know what I'm doing, Eli. For once, just let me do my job.” Without a single look in Eli's direction, she grasped the neckline of her shirt and ripped it, tugging until her meager cleavage was visible, and farther down still, so that the insides of her breasts were on display.

Eli dropped everything to grab her upper arms in an iron hold. “Just what the hell is this grand plan of yours?”

“There're two of them.”

He stared pointedly at her exposed cleavage. “So you think a ménage à trois will turn the trick?”

“For the love of . . . it's a
distraction,
Eli.”

“I'll say.”

She rolled her eyes. “Tell me, do I look the least bit threatening to you?”

His gaze drifted over her, bright with menace and a good dose of jealousy. “You look ready to fuck.”

“Perfect. Then they won't be expecting me to steal their prisoner, now will they? Not that I couldn't easily put both those guys out of commission, but then they might not get back up, and as you said, I promised Sarita. And before you volunteer, I
know
you'd hurt them. So this is the best way.”

His answer was to grab the back of her neck and pull her toward him for a deep, openmouthed, tongue-twining kiss. Stunned, Ray hung in his grasp. What kind of retort was that?

A possessive one, she decided.

Eli lifted his head and visibly struggled to get his temper in check. “I don't want to find a single scratch on you, Ray. Promise me.”

Him and his damn promises. “Your brother is in that camp.”

“And you're right here. Now promise me.”

Her heart started racing and her vision blurred. He put as much significance on her as on his brother? Ray knew in that awful moment that she'd really screwed up. She'd done the unthinkable—she'd fallen in love with Eli.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Nothing had changed. She was still an outcast, an oddity. She could just imagine him trying to introduce her to his family.
This is Ray, a female mercenary. She excels in lethal hand-to-hand combat.
He'd make fools of them both.

Eli needed her arrogance now, and she gave it to him, truthfully. “If these clowns can hurt me, then it's time I retired. And it irritates the hell out of me that you can't find a little confidence in my abilities. Why the hell did you hire me if you don't trust me to do a good job?”

Eli looked agonized. “I trust you.”

“About time.” She shoved past him. “Now get about your business, but don't forget to watch for my signal.”

She left, picking her way carefully toward the compound as if she had just found a much-needed sanctuary and was thankful. One quick glimpse over her shoulder told her that Eli had already disappeared.

Ray forced herself to look weak, limping slightly, her dark eyes pleading for help. The guard's attention diverted from the sick men as she came into view. His mouth spread in a wide, curious smile and he came to meet Ray at the flimsy gate.

Speaking rapid Spanish, he questioned her. Answering in kind, Ray claimed she had started work with Sarita but was accosted by two drug runners who hadn't paid like they should have. She pleaded for his protection.

He let her enter without a qualm.

Ray did her best not to look at Jeremy, but he was so white in comparison to the other men, he shone like a beacon. A queasy beacon. It was almost enough to turn her stomach, too.

Miguel had his back to them, issuing orders for the rest of the breakfast to be dumped. The middle of his tan shirt, straining across his broad, thick shoulders, was dark with sweat, and his shiny black hair hung wet against his scalp. No doubt, he was grumpier than ever this morning, trying to bring order to his camp. A good thing, too, because Miguel would recognize her, and Ray needed to be rid of the guard before tackling him to ensure no one got seriously wounded.

At her frown, the guard laughed. He misinterpreted her look as fear of the sick men. “You have nothing to fear,
chica.
It is just bad food.” His finger came to rest in her cleavage, and he held her eyes as he dipped below the material of her shirt, dangerously close to a nipple.

Much more of that and Ray would be in the yard chucking with the men. She pulled away, doing her best to look teasing when she really wanted to snap a joint or two on his burly body. She only hoped Eli hadn't witnessed that little taunt.

Making certain to speak in Spanish, Ray began backing the man toward the ammunition shed. She praised him with false compliments and he gladly retreated with her toward what he viewed as intimate privacy.

The rickety door was locked, so Ray smiled and danced her fingertips down the man's shirt, stopping at his belt with a suggestive grin. Fingers fumbling, the guard worked the padlock and swung the door open, caught Ray's hand, and tugged her inside. Ray didn't fight him, and he laughed in delight, cupping his hands around her bottom, squeezing, seeking. He backed her against an inside wall and leaned forward to kiss her.

Not in this lifetime.

Ray gripped his right wrist in both her hands. Their eyes met, his startled, hers determined.

She smiled. “Sorry, amigo.” Whipping him around so fast he didn't have time to react, Ray hooked her leg in his, tripping him and shoving him forward hard at the same time. He landed on his hands and knees on the shed floor. Shock kept him immobile long enough for Ray to leap out and slam the door shut. She snapped the padlock closed.

Less than two seconds later, the man roared and landed against the door so hard, he nearly toppled the shed. He definitely didn't like being duped, and yelled as much in rather colorful terms. His shouts could be heard everywhere.

Miguel would be on his way. With a sigh, Ray turned to greet him.

His abundant body hair matted in sweat, Miguel stomped toward the shed to investigate. He had to dart around fallen men and twice-served breakfast remains. When he saw Ray, he skidded to a halt and his black eyes widened.
“You.”

“Hey, Miguel. What's up?”

Before he could stop himself, he took a hasty step back and almost fell. His bushy eyebrows met over his nose. Realization came quickly. “You want the American boy,
sí?”

“The wheels don't get rusty on you, do they,
compadre?”

His shoulders bunched forward in aggression. “You can not have him.”

“Who says I can't?” And with a laughing sneer:
“You?”

“I have guards . . .” His booming voice dwindled at the sound of continued moans and other, more obnoxious regurgitating noises. He looked around the yard that now resembled a battlefield of fallen warriors. Suspicion dawned and he gave her a sharp, accusatory look.

Ray grinned. “How'd you like your special breakfast ?”

Red heat washed over his face. “They will die?”

“Don't be an ass.” That irritated her. She knew Miguel didn't trust her, that he was afraid of her. But she didn't do mass killings and he should have known it. After all, hadn't she taken it easy on him last time? Hell, she could have killed him and instead she merely incapacitated him for a while. “They'll be fine in a few hours—after I'm long gone.”

He grunted in doubt.

“Admit it, Miguel. This is better than me leaving broken bones behind, isn't it?”

He wanted to debate her confidence on the outcome of a skirmish, but knew better. He shook a fist. “The boy is more trouble than he is worth. Yet he must be worth
something.”

“Sure he is. Hand him over and I'll see that you get well paid.” Since Eli had already given a fair amount to Sarita, it was a safe promise.

Miguel rubbed his flat belly, either from sickness or humor. “You think I am so stupid to trust you?”