Dangerous to Hold Page 11

  When the bus turned inland and approached the tumble of shacks that formed the city’s suburbs, she breathed a sigh of relief. Almost immediately, Maggie realized that she’d relaxed too soon. Cartoza’s capital clung to the steep slopes of the Teleran foothills like barnacles on a ship’s keel. Huffing and groaning, the bus crept up one almost perpendicular street, then plunged down the next, in wild defiance of any and all traffic laws. Pedestrians shouted curses and jumped out of the way, horns blared, and thick exhaust fumes from poorly refined fuel added to the collection of odors trapped in the bus.

  When she wasn’t bracing herself against the seat in front of her, arms stiff and eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of her imminent demise, Maggie caught glimpses of adobe-covered buildings plastered with posters advertising everything from Diet Pepsi to the topless dancers at Café La Boom Boom. After countless stops to let off and take on passengers, the bus finally puffed to a halt before a pair of tall wooden doors set in a pink adobe wall.

  “El convento!” the driver bellowed back over his shoulder.

  “Thank the Lord,” Maggie muttered, easing her way past the old woman.

  A firm tug on the bell rope soon gained her access to a shaded, flowering courtyard. After paying her respects to the senior sister, she was shown to a small, sparsely furnished room kept in readiness for transients. As soon as the door shut behind her escort, Maggie sank down on the bed, tugged off her veil and raked a hand through her thick mane.

  Seconds later, she pulled up the antenna on her hand-held secure-transmission satellite communications device. The transmitter-receiver, called a transceiver for short, was small and thin, not much bigger than a lady’s compact. It switched from transmit to receive mode at the slightest touch of a finger.

  “Nothing from Jaguar yet,” Cowboy relayed, his voice as clear as if he were calling from across town instead of bouncing a signal off a low-orbiting satellite.

  Maggie knew that she would’ve been contacted instantly if Jake had called in, but she still couldn’t help feeling a stab of disappointment. That, combined with fatigue and the accumulated tension of the operation, made her sag for a moment. It was probably just as well she wasn’t jumping right into action, she reflected. She wouldn’t be much good to Jake if she let her instincts become dulled.

  “Roger,” Maggie replied, acknowledging Cowboy’s transmission. “I’m going to grab a few hours’ sleep, then reconnoiter.”

  “I’ll hold the fort,” he replied.

  Slipping out of the black robe, Maggie placed her gun on the handy night table and stretched out on the cot in her underwear. True to her cover, she wore plain, unadorned white cotton panties and bra, which the uniform specialists had assured her were not easy to find in D.C. on such short notice. The thick adobe walls gave the small room a cool, dim cast. Within moments, she was asleep.

  Half an hour later, a raucous, booming bellow sent her leaping from the bed, .22 in hand. She dropped into a crouch, weapon held straight out, then swung it in an arc across the width of the room. A second bellow thundered through the walls.

  The sound of scurrying feet outside drew Maggie toward the door. Opening it a cautious crack, she saw several sisters hurrying down the hall. A young, olive-skinned novice in a gray dress stopped at her signal.

  “Excuse me. Is that a fire alarm?”

  “It’s the bell for midmorning prayers,” the young woman explained. She glanced pointedly at Maggie’s underwear and uncovered hair. “You have only five minutes before you must be in place.”

  “Mmm…” Maggie thought she just might skip midmorning prayers in favor of her first few hours’ sleep in almost two days.

  “Of course,” the novice said earnestly, “if you miss these prayers, just listen for the bell after next. It calls one to a special half hour of contemplation and prayer before lunch.”

  Maggie stared at her in gathering consternation. “You mean the bell rings like that all morning long?”

  “Oh, yes, Sister,” the young woman assured her. “All day long. Every thirty minutes, from five-o’clock wake-up to ten o’clock last prayers. It is, perhaps, a trifle loud, but one gets used to it.”

  Not in this lifetime, Maggie thought. She closed the door and leaned against it. Jake had better call in, and soon!

  “Xavier and I are going into the jungle to check the intrusion-detection devices.”

  Sarah’s hands stilled as she stared up at Jack’s shadowed face. The black plastic comb hovered over her dull, limp hair.

  “Xavier?”

  “The man whose feet you treated.” His mouth twisted in a mocking smile. “He’s supposed to be my assistant.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Not long. Here, take this.”

  She glanced at the small, toy-size gun he held out to her and repressed a shudder. She hated guns, and the violence they caused. Her mother had been killed in a hunting accident when Sarah was just a baby. The senator hadn’t allowed a gun anywhere in the house since. Sarah had never touched one in her life. Lowering her hands, she clasped them tight in her lap. The sharp teeth of the comb bit into her palm.

  “I…I don’t…”

  His mouth tightened at her reluctance to take the weapon. “Look, Sister, I’m not asking you to violate some deep-seated religious principles here. You don’t have to shoot to kill. If anyone comes into the shack, just aim the thing straight up in the air and pull the trigger. I’ll be back before the echo dies away.”

  “Couldn’t we just go with you?”

  “I can’t take you out of here just yet,” he said sharply. “I told you, I’ve got some business to conduct in a few days.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to put our welfare ahead of your business,” Sarah retorted, acid dripping from her voice. “I just want you to take me and the children a little way upstream.”

  “And leave you alone? To try and make it out on your own? Don’t be stupid. One misstep and you’d all be monkey bait.”

  Sarah glared up at him. “I wasn’t thinking of escape. I wouldn’t risk the children’s lives by trying to find my own way through your booby traps. I just thought that I could bathe them while you did your…your business.”

  The undisguised scorn in her voice tightened the skin across his cheeks. He closed his fingers around the gun.

  “They need a bath,” Sarah insisted. She needed a bath, too. Badly. But she’d settle for dangling her feet in some cool water and splashing what she could over her face and arms.

  Sarah set her jaw as she waited for his response. His shuttered gray eyes gave no clue to what he thought. He’d been so withdrawn this morning, so reserved. Ever since they’d rolled back the mosquito netting and gone about the business of seeing to the children’s needs, Sarah had sensed a change in him. She wasn’t sure exactly when she’d become so attuned to this man’s moods, but she knew that something had changed between them last night. Irrevocably.

  Maybe he was still suffering from all that tequila he’d downed, Sarah thought irritably. Or maybe he was still angry about the way she’d poured that disinfectant on him. Or maybe he was finding the prospect of protecting her and the children more of a strain on his patience and his admittedly tattered conscience than he’d bargained for.

  Too bad.

  Sarah wasn’t any happier about being stuck in this camp than he apparently was, but until she figured out a way to get herself and the children back to civilization, she wasn’t letting Mr. Mercenary off the hook. He was stuck with them. And they were stuck with him.

  “All right,” he answered finally. “There’s a pool about a kilometer from here. Far enough away to give you some privacy, but still well within the perimeter defenses.”

  Sarah scrambled to her feet before he could change his mind. “Good! I’ll gather a few things while you go get the children. They’re with Eleanora.”

  One dark brow rose cynically as she headed for the backpack she now considered her own. He didn’t comment, howe
ver, and stepped out the door.

  The prospect of being out of the hut and the oppressive camp for even an hour lifted Sarah’s spirits. Her unease over Jack’s strange quietness vanished as she dug through the pockets of the backpack for the few remaining toiletry items.

  She felt like a child being given a special treat, like an adventurer setting off on an exciting journey instead of just trudging a half or so mile upstream. Sarah smiled, remembering the vacations she’d taken with her father at five-star resorts. The junkets provided by lobbyists who were currying his favor. The yearly trips to Europe to buy clothes and enjoy the hospitality of the ambassadors and diplomats she’d entertained in D.C. None of those jaunts had thrilled her as much as the prospect of this little excursion.

  She threw on the black robe and rolled her few supplies up in the cotton blouse. The blouse was so big and baggy on her, she could wear it while she was bathing the children and still be covered from neck to knees.

  Hearing Teresa’s childish giggles, Sarah pulled open the door and watched the little procession cross the clearing. Ricci was perched on Jack’s shoulders, his black hair covered by the floppy-brimmed camouflage hat. Silent, unsmiling Eduard walked beside them. Teresa danced along in her bright red dress, holding on to her precious doll with one hand and Eleanora with the other. Bringing up the rear was the thin, stoop-shouldered guerrilla whose bleeding feet Sarah had treated yesterday. He grinned and pointed to his boots with the tip of his rifle.

  The cavalcade came to a halt. Jack nodded toward the heavyset, expressionless woman beside him. “She says she can help you with the children.”

  Sarah flashed Eleanora a wide, grateful smile. As much as the children tugged at her heartstrings, they still overwhelmed her at times. She’d gained a whole new appreciation of motherhood in the past few days. The younger children’s constant demands for her attention, their swift mood swings from happy to tearful, the utter lack of privacy, even to go to the bathroom, had added to the stress of her ever-present uncertainty and fear.

  “I managed to round up some soap,” Jack added, handing her a much-used bar.

  Sarah grabbed it with an involuntary cry of delight. She didn’t want to know what he’d had to barter or promise for it. It was one thing for him to sell his knowledge of stolen weapons for cash, she admitted to herself with rueful honesty. It was another thing altogether when he sold it to benefit her or the children.

  From the way his lips twisted cynically, Sarah guessed that he’d noticed this apparent inconsistency in her rigid contempt for his business dealings. Shrugging, she tucked the soap inside her bundle.

  “Okay, troops,” he said dryly, “fall in. Stay behind me on the path once we leave the clearing, understand?”

  “S, Señor Creighton,” Teresa trilled.

  Jack rolled his eyes, then led the way out of camp.

  When Sarah saw the small pool, she gasped in surprised delight. Until this moment, she’d never realized that the jungle could be so incredibly beautiful and seductive.

  A ribbon of water tumbled down one of the steep hills that surrounded the camp and collected at the bottom to form a silvery, glistening basin. Feathery ferns the height of small trees formed a lush green backdrop for the pool. A single beam of sunshine sliced through the dense canopy overhead, illuminating the brilliant scarlet and yellow trumpet flowers that basked in its light.

  “The pool’s shallow enough for the kids to wade in,” Jack said, drawing her wide-eyed gaze away from the delightful scene.

  “What about snakes and such? Is it safe?”

  “A safe as anything is in the jungle,” he replied with a shrug, “but I’ll check it out for you.”

  He slid his machete from the leather scabbard and spoke a few words to the rebel, who nodded and moved toward the far side of the pool.

  “While Xavier and I are gone,” Jake said in a quick undertone, “Eduard will stand guard. Just to make sure no one else has decided to follow along and drop in on your little party uninvited.”

  Sarah bit her lip and glanced down at the eight-year-old. Eduard needed to bathe, as well, but she knew he would resist if she tried to coax him in. He was such a quiet, contained little boy. He didn’t seem to want cuddling or attention, as the younger ones did, and he shied away from allowing Sarah to help him with any personal needs.

  “We men will take a turn later, when you’re done,” Jack said deliberately.

  Eduard sent him a grateful man-to-man look.

  “But…”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t let his arm get wet. I’ve spent enough time in the jungle to know as much about blood flukes as you do.”

  He knew a whole lot more than she did, Sarah thought ruefully as she watched him walk toward the pool. About blood flukes—whatever those were—and about the jungle and young boys. In his own quiet way, Eduard seemed to have developed a severe case of hero worship. More of that male bonding, Sarah supposed.

  She shook her head, wondering at the contradictions in the man. Over the past few days, she had found herself by turns disgusted by him and grateful to him. She’d laid awake at night, aware of his uncompromising masculinity but unwilling to acknowledge its effect on her. He cold-bloodedly dealt in death, and yet…

  And yet he’d provided her what safety he could in this precarious situation. Moreover, he was so kind to the children, in his brusque way. Teresa preened like a little banty rooster in her bright dress whenever she caught his eyes. She refused to go to sleep unless the root he’d carved for her was tucked into the hammock with her. Little Ricci followed him about with the eagerness of a happy puppy.

  Sarah frowned as she watched the object of her thoughts hunker down on a flat rock and slap the water gently with a stick to see what creatures, if any, he disturbed. Why should it surprise her that she couldn’t reconcile the complexities in his nature? For all her much-touted charm and skill at playing the Washington social game, she’d failed miserably to understand what drove the one other man who’d swept into her life with such devastating impact.

  Now there was a contrast, Sarah thought dryly. André, with his impeccable manners and skilled lovemaking. And this…this soldier of fortune, with his hard gray eyes and his soiled khaki shirt stretched across his broad back. The rolled-up sleeves displayed the tanned, muscled arms that had wrapped around her with such lack of gentleness last night. Sarah shivered, remembering the feel of his body pressed against hers.

  “Sarita! Can we go in now?”

  “Can I make the pee-pee in the water, Sarita?”

  Sarah glanced down at the two children dancing around her, one thin and wiry, the other stubby and plump. “Why don’t you make the pee-pee before you get in the pool?” she suggested with a smile.

  “Can we go in now? It is safe,” Teresa insisted, tugging on her sleeve.

  The mercenary rose, confirming Teresa’s opinion. “The water’s clean. Just don’t leave the clearing. Xavier and I will be close enough to hear you if you scream, but far enough to give you privacy. Thirty minutes long enough?”

  “Thirty minutes is fine.”

  He tipped two fingers to the floppy brim of his hat, then started back around the pool to join Xavier.

  “Now, Sarita? Now?” Both children tugged on her sleeves now as they hopped from one foot to the other in their eagerness.

  Smiling at their antics, Sarah glanced up and caught Eleanora’s eye. For a brief, unguarded moment, the other woman shared her enjoyment of the youngsters’ unrestrained eagerness. Almost as quickly as it had appeared, however, the flash of awareness in Eleanora’s eyes faded and her features took on their habitual vacant flatness.

  “Okay, okay,” Sarah said, laughing. “Let me get changed, then Eleanora and I will take you in.”

  She edged behind a screen of ferns to shed her black robe and the panties she intended to wash. As she pulled on the baggy blouse, she pondered what she now guessed was a deliberate shield erected by Eleanora. Sarah bit her lip, imagining what it was th
at the older woman retreated from behind that dull passivity. Jack’s warning that she had enough problems of her own without adding Eleanora’s to them sounded in Sarah’s mind. She wanted to heed his warning. She needed to heed it. But when she knelt beside the older woman to undress the wiggling, squirming children, Sarah knew the warning had come too late. Just what she could do about Eleanora’s plight eluded her at this precise moment. But she would have to think of something.

  The children waded into the pool, shrieking at the cold and jumping up and down. Their small hands beat the water and sent silvery spray flying everywhere. Laughing, Sarah sat down on the flat rock beside Eleanora. She rucked the hem of the long blouse up over her knees, dangled her feet in the water and let the children splash and play. Within seconds, the two women were almost as soaked as the youngsters.

  The cool water felt wonderful. Sarah longed to slip off the rock and join the kids. Her fingers clenched around the soap. Maybe after they’d cleansed the children, she’d slip into the pool, blouse and all, and wash her hair.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah caught a blur of khaki. She looked up to see Jack emerge from the jungle on the far side of the pool. He stopped abruptly, his body slowly tensing as he stared at her. Even from this distance, Sarah could see how his skin stretched tight across his cheekbones and his eyes devoured her.

  Her heart slamming up against her ribs, she glanced down and saw how the wet blouse clung to her breasts and thighs. The soaked cotton molded her, shaped her, revealed her.