Unexpected (2 page)

“It wasn't an insult I gave you—”

“Fool? Idiot?” He snorted again, forcing her to fight off a smile.

“All right, it was, but I didn't really mean it that way. Think of it more as an instruction.”

“An instruction on survival?”

“Why not? I was told you wanted to stick close, that you insisted on accompanying me when I go in.” And that's what really nettled her. She worked alone. Always. Not since that awful time long ago had she allowed a partner. But damn it, she needed the pay a job like his would bring.

She drew a deep breath and continued. “Since it appears I have no say in that half-witted decision—”

“You don't. It's my brother over there, so I'm going along.”

“—and since I have no intention of causing myself extra worry just so you can dress in your finest, you're going to have to follow my lead. In everything. Do I make myself clear?”

There was another long hesitation while Eli searched her face. She felt . . .
touched
again, as if he somehow saw below the surface. Impossible. She excelled at hiding all thought, all expression, and no one, certainly not a fancy-pants rich boy, would discern anything about her that she wanted kept private.

Finally, coming to some silent conclusion that he didn't share, Eli said, “The watch is from my grandfather and it never comes off.”

Never
wasn't acceptable, but for now, Ray let it go. “And the jacket?”

His crooked grin reappeared. “The oldest one I own.”

She would not be charmed by that boyish smile. Straightening the papers on the table between them gave her something to look at other than those devastating eyes. “Gotcha. Well then, we'll just need to shop before we leave.” Ray glanced up and away. “That is, if you still want me.”

Uncertainty hit her the second she said it, and she shoved the papers toward him. Affidavits, referrals, and recommendations made up her resume. There were no specific details on any missions because every case was covert, guaranteed high-priority privacy protection.

The papers would detail her abilities, her experience, and her success. But they wouldn't give names or dates. Eli would never know that her missions had grown farther and farther apart—or why.

He accepted the documents, giving all his attention to her credentials. He took his time, carefully reading everything.

Without looking up, he said, “You've been to Central America before.”

The words wanted to stick in her throat, but she forced them out. “I've been there.”

“More than once?”

“More than once.” She wouldn't give him specifics about those other times. The papers told him she'd succeeded in her missions, and anything more was none of his damn business.

But she could tell him what she'd already found out about
this
mission. “Your brother's in Mataya.” That snared his attention. Hungry for info, he put the papers aside to listen. “It's a small village that's usually pretty peaceful. Now that they've got your brother, though, they see him as the pot of gold. You don't have to worry. They're treating him like a prince.”

“How can you know that?”

“I've had dealings with that village before. In the past, they've helped me with other rescues. In fact, that's probably where they got the idea to try snatching your brother.”

“From helping you rescue other men?”

“Maybe. I have it on good authority that they won't hurt him, but I doubt he'll be comfortable with their standard of living. He won't be dining on prime rib or soaking in the sauna, that's for sure.”

Eli leaned toward her. “I was told by some of his friends who'd been with him that he wasn't hurt, but no one knew how to get him back. There's been no ransom demand, no official notice.”

She shrugged. “They probably don't know what he's worth.” She could just picture the bunch of them, pseudo guerillas, hashing over the dollar amount with hopeful greed. “The guys who took him are new at this.”

“How do you know for sure who has him?”

“I checked before agreeing to the job.”

“Your connections in Central America are that good?”

“Of course.” She didn't tell him that she had befriended some of the people in years past. Locating a fair-skinned rich boy wasn't all that hard. He stuck out like a broken thumb. “I know where he is, I know that he's fine, and I know how to get him out with the least amount of hassle.”

“We don't yet know what they want for him.”

She rolled her eyes again. “They want money—the only issue is how much you'll have to actually pay, and that'll be negotiable. It won't be exorbitant. They're so poor, ten thousand would seem like ten million to them.”

He seemed relieved by her confidence. She could actually see some of his pent-up anger easing. “I was told you were good.”

She accepted that tribute without modesty. “Yeah, I've been told that, too.”

He made a face of hesitant acceptance. “Your grasp of the situation verifies it, and certainly everything in your papers looks credible.”

She heard that “but” loud and clear. “So?”

“It's still a little hard to believe.”

Here we go. “Because I'm female.”

“Because you don't look cutthroat enough, powerful enough, or hardened in any way.” His drew a slow breath, his gaze locked on hers. “Hell, if anything, you look soft. Very soft.”

The way he said it kept her from actually hearing the words for a moment. When they did register, indignation exploded, causing her to slowly straighten. She felt her muscles—sleek, not obvious, but there all the same—quiver at the insult. Her body automatically went on alert, her senses rising to an acute level of awareness, ready to move with fluid speed.

Ready to kick his ass.

No man had ever dared to tell her she was
soft.
Most never gave it a thought one way or the other unless her talents were needed, and when she proved how hard she could be, they no longer cared. Her voice was silky and filled with menace when she purred, “You require a demonstration?”

He didn't grin, but he definitely looked amused again. “Offering to beat me up?”

His humor rubbed her on the raw. “Don't think I can't.”

This time he actually laughed, but with incredulity and astonishment. “I probably outweigh you by ninety pounds, none of it fat. You really think you're that good?”

Before the mission was finished, Ray vowed to show him just how good she could be. It'd be a well-deserved lesson, and one he wouldn't forget. “I'm alive. That's good enough for me.”

“Alive, but still a woman.” He tilted his head, laughing quietly. “It's tough to swallow.”

Much more of his provocation and the lesson would come sooner rather than later. She wasn't usually so prickly, but the majority of her jobs weren't with a man like him. Most who hired her were obnoxious, arrogant, belligerent men who she could easily dismiss as unimportant and unworthy of her temper. They treated her as a lesser person. They did
not
dare to tease her, or smile at her with masculine pleasure.

They did not size her up as a woman.

Before she ruined everything by dislocating his shoulder, she got her temper under control. “Are we staying here? I want a drink if we are, and if not, well then, I suggest we get going. We're drawing a lot of attention.”

Instantly alert, Eli's piercing gaze swept around the room with hasty caution. “Where?”

Motioning with a tilt of her head, Ray said, “At the bar.”

He looked, and scowled at whatever he saw. “The bar is behind you. How do you know anyone's paying attention to us?”

“Feminine intuition?”

His mouth flattened. “It was a legitimate question, Ray.”

With his mood soured, hers improved. “Yeah, all right. Don't get your briefs in a bunch.” She watched with satisfaction as his expression tightened even more, then admitted, “I can feel it.”

“It?”

“Yeah. The growing tension, the static charge. Someone is plotting.” She gathered her papers and put them away, locking the briefcase and keeping it on the table in front of her. “I can feel the eyes, feel the hush in the air. The anticipation.”

When he only stared at her, she sighed. “It's what I do, Eli, what I'm good at. Without gut instinct, I wouldn't be here now.”

Eli considered that. She waited for his mockery, but after a thoughtful moment he nodded. “All right then. Let's get out of here.” He pushed his chair back.

Triumph surged, but Ray didn't give in to it yet. She wanted a commitment. She needed this job, much as it galled her to admit. There'd be hell to pay when Matt found out, but she'd handle him. “Then you do want me?”

Before Eli could answer, another voice, slurred with drink, sounded close behind her. “I want ya, honey.” A damp, meaty hand closed around her upper arm. Ray didn't so much as flinch. She'd expected at least one battle before the night ended, and she wasn't disappointed that she'd get it. Just the opposite.

Eli scowled, but Ray said only, “Looks like you'll get your demonstration after all.”

He gave her an incredulous glance before surging forward.
To her rescue?
Ray grinned. What a joke. She stood and shoved her briefcase against his abdomen, halting him in his heroic attempt. “You wanna help? Watch my case for me.” The man still held on to her arm. “And you might want to get out of the way.”

“Like hell.” Eli dropped the case on the table, took one step forward—and was forced to duck as Ray went into action.

Smiling, she grasped the man's arm just above his elbow, turned and bent to put her shoulder into his soft gut, and sent him flipping onto his back by the simple means of straightening. It had all happened in less than three seconds.

The big man sprawled out at Eli's feet. For one moment his eyes were open in glazed shock, then they crossed and his head lolled to the side.

The comical expression on Eli's face delighted her. With one novice move, she'd surprised him good, but there wasn't time to relish her small victory.

A roar sounded behind her and a man lunged forward. Ray spun around, leg extended, and sank the heel of her boot into his groin. He screamed like a girl as he crumpled on the spot.

“Man, that must've hurt,” she said to Eli, who blinked at her in astonishment.

In typical barlike fashion, chaos exploded around them. For the first time that night, Ray felt good. She was in her element. Meeting Eli had filled her with some strange roiling emotion, and this was just what she needed to rid herself of it. It had been too damn long since she'd had a good workout. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she shook her hands to get them limber and looked around for fresh meat, waiting for the next attack, grinning all the while.

“Jesus.”

She turned to see Eli staring at her with appalled incomprehension. Big as he was, strong as he appeared to be, he still looked aghast at the various scuffles quickly escalating to brawl proportions. Damn. No time for fun now. Her first priority was keeping Mr. Moneybags safe.

“Come on.” Ray grabbed his hand and her case and started for the back door. He allowed himself to be towed along.

Another man reached out, snatching at the back of Eli's jacket. Ray moved to defend him, anxious to get in one more lick, but Eli didn't give her the chance. More aggravated than alarmed, and with no hesitation whatsoever, he punched the man in the side of the throat. The poor fellow gagged and staggered back into a table, knocking over drinks and starting another quarrel.

Impressed, Ray looked at Eli with new eyes. Surprise of surprises, he could defend himself. What about that?

As if he'd read her thoughts, he shook his head, flexed his knuckles, and somehow took the lead, yanking her out the door and into the chill night air.

Now that he was relatively safe, Ray tried to release his hand, but Eli held on, his grip unbreakable unless she wanted to stop and prove a point. Which she didn't, not yet anyway. They were still in a darkened alley in a disreputable part of town, and anything could happen. Men were known to leave bar disputes with a knife in hand, or worse, a gun. It wouldn't do her reputation a damn bit of good if someone shot at him or managed to prick him with the tip of a switchblade. Rich people bled a lot.

That didn't mean, however, that she'd let him be in charge. Ray pulled him to a stop. His hand was large and lean, swallowing hers, making her feel almost . . . dainty. How absurd. She could kill a man with one blow. Nothing dainty about that.

But he kept her hand cradled in his like a little bird in a nest. His palm was incredibly warm, his fingers long and strong and rough with calluses.

She was trained to notice every small detail. The calluses on a wealthy man didn't make any sense, but now wasn't the time to ask personal questions. “Where's your car?”

Eli gave a mock bow. “I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not as stupid as you want to think. I took a cab.”

“Perfect.” She nodded her approval. “Then we can both take my truck.”

Several more men spilled out of the bar, fists and rank curses flying.

Ray got Eli moving again with a jerk. “Come on.”

They jogged out of the wet, smelly alley into the incredible star-filled night. Ray breathed deeply of the cool moist air. She felt strangely stirred by the sequence of events that had just taken place. Sort of antsy and restless and way too warm. She wanted to run, to throw a few more hits. She wanted to sit down and just smile.

Shaking her head at her own odd mood, she continued at a fast clip down the road to the first side street. The moon was fat, providing plenty of light to guide them.

Eli easily kept up with her pace, but then, given his height, his legs were a whole lot longer than hers.