Chapter Seven
R io wasn’t really mad at Becca for her escape attempt. If he were honest with himself, and he was scrupulously so, he knew that in her position, first violently kidnapped by one entity, and then stolen from them by another unknown, he’d have done the same thing.
He’d have run, too.
Seeing the mountain lion stalking Becca had frozen his very veins. In winter, food for such an animal, possibly nursing babies, was scarce. While normally it might keep shy of humans, the cat could be near starving and driven to hunt creatures it usually wouldn’t.
It had been a big cat, running fast and right at her. He shuddered, and pushed aside thoughts of what would have happened if the beast had caught her. No sense in dwelling on that.
Soon after they hashed things out, she fell asleep and he spent time sitting quietly, just watching her. Over her full breasts the quilts rose and fell softly. Her lashes lay like dark butterflies on her cheeks. Studying her face, he found he enjoyed looking at her. She was pretty.
She didn’t know him, and women were funny about the trust issue. If they didn’t feel sure of a man, they could be damnably uncooperative. But once they felt they could rely on him, often they were loyal to the end.
He needed to get her to a place where she could be comfortable with him, would follow him, would do as he said. Any more attempts to flee him could end in disaster, for both her and him. Most importantly, for the mission. He sorted through options.
He could get her conversing, encourage her to share her feelings with him, get her to carry on about her life, her interests. It usually wasn’t difficult to start a woman talking. The female of the species needed to do a lot of that, and in their conversations, he often noticed, they let down their guard.
He could spend time drawing her out, making her believe he was truly interested in every aspect of her life, every thought in her pretty head. He could do all of that.
Or he could just seduce her.
It wasn’t against the rules. In hostage rescue, there were no rules. His self-imposed edict to remain hands-off might not serve his purposes. Not this time. His long-standing policy should, possibly, be reconsidered.
****
H arrison kept his voice low and urgent. The phone pressed to his ear. “I’m telling you, fucking get the girl to me now.”
On the other end of the line, Harrison heard wind soughing through high mountain trees. His man, Rio Lang, said, “Can’t right now. Unless you want to send me a couple of Marine Seahawks loaded down with armament—say hellfire missiles and door gunners with belt-fed machine guns, and maybe a platoon of SEALs. Yeah, get some of my old teammates up here. Then, sure, you can have her now.” He paused. “Other than that, we’re trapped.”
“No, no,” Harrison said impatiently. “I’ve told you more than once this must be handled delicately. We can’t involve the Mexican government. An assault like that from American forces would draw unwelcome attention and make international trouble.”
The ambassador and his daughter had been roughed up a little, but released. At least they weren’t killed. However, they’d been instructed to keep their mouths shut about the incident and allow the proper officials to do their job.
From his anonymous penthouse office in an equally anonymous American city, Harrison sat forward in his leather chair, and cast his gaze over the view of the downtown city lights. Few knew where he worked, and he kept personal control of Black Eagle. All his contracts were awarded by phone or through the Internet, and the payments made by cash transfers to anonymous drop locations. Between his superiors, himself, and the men who worked under him, were many layers of secrecy. In his line of work, Harrison had a lot of leeway to make decisions.
“For now, we’re pretty much surrounded,” Rio said. “But hidden. If we lay low for at least another day, I can get Becca out of here, no sweat. Those assholes will never find me.”
Aggravation gnawed at Harrison’s stomach. He flipped open a medicine bottle of antacid and chewed up three tablets. He was getting too old for this crap. It was nearing time for him to forge a new path. Dealing with rogue characters like Rio Lang, guys who’d served in Special Forces, highly trained but supremely arrogant, was proving too big a headache. They always wanted to do things their way and were nearly impossible to control.
“I’m warning you, Lang, no mistakes this time or you’re done. Got that?” The last job he’d given Rio had been a doozy. Matters went sour when the man he’d been protecting was shot. He wasn’t killed, but the wound was serious. It hadn’t been Rio’s fault, but Harrison deliberately allowed him to believe it was: men were easier to manage if they were worried about job security.
For Harrison, keeping Rio Lang off balance had become a fine art.
At the same time, he knew Lang was one of Black Eagle’s best men, perhaps the very best. For his efficient work over the years in covert ops, then for Black Eagle, and earlier than that, for the United States government, Harrison knew that the government was far more in Rio’s debt than Rio would ever guess.
And Harrison vowed to keep it that way.
Rio grunted. “Gotta go.” And he cut the line.
With satisfaction, Harrison leaned back in his luxury chair. Rio had gotten the message. Of one thing Harrison was certain: Rio would do his job.
****
B ecca spent a second night with Rio snug against her backside. While she was still weak from her illness, she was no longer feverish or sick. He’d left the battery-operated lamp on all night and it was still going strong. It was plenty cold enough in the cabin to justify the snuggling.
Because she’d been so ill the night before, Becca had barely noticed.
But now she was well enough to recognize his hard-on, pressed to her backside. With her pants still damp and muddy, she’d been forced to remove them again and wore only her white cotton panties and his wool socks.
At midnight, she stirred, waking up.
“I’m not gonna apologize,” he whispered into her hair.
She shifted away and understood exactly what he meant.
“Won’t deny it either,” he said. “You’re an attractive woman, Becca. Damn hot. Obviously I want you.” He waited, apparently hoping she’d respond favorably.
“Not gonna happen,” she said, inching farther away. “I don’t even know you.”
Relaxing his hold, he allowed her to move. “Your choice,” he said. “Either way.”
She rolled onto her back and slanted him a glance. “When it suits you, you keep giving me choices as though you don’t care. But you’re not the robot you pretend to be, are you, Rio?”
“Never said I was a robot.” He flicked his eyes downward toward his lower body. “Clearly I’m a man. And you do know me. I’m Rio. We’ve spent two days together. And now a second night. What’s the problem?”
She got up on one elbow, her long hair framing her face and hanging down to the bed. Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that she found him physically appealing. He was like a golden, Viking demi-god. His physique. His face. Both were magnificent.
Yet that was only how he looked, his appearance, his outer shell. But what about his character? As she’d told him several times, she didn’t know him, didn’t fully trust him. Whether she was attracted to his fabulous outer layer or not, that didn’t mean she was going to toss aside her normal reserve.
While she knew herself to be a sexual being who enjoyed lovemaking, who even felt occasional urges toward exhibitionism, she’d never indulged those urges. She’d long fantasized about driving past men and ripping off her top, just to see their faces. It was a secret fantasy. Maybe one day she’d be able to do it.
That day had not yet arrived.
She’d never had sex with a stranger, or even a man with whom she didn’t already have a strong dating relationship. Certainly she wouldn’t change now.
Instead, she told Rio, “You’re not getting paid to bed me.”
“No need to pay me. I’ll provide the service for free.” He gave her a small smile.
She glared. “I said no. If you try to take me, I’ll claw out your eyes. And it will be rape.”
His smile faded. “I don’t do rape. If a woman I want is amenable, I have sex. Period.”
“This woman is not amenable.” She tapped her chest and beneath her shirt, felt her breasts sway.
His gaze dropped to her chest. “Sadly, you’ve made that clear.”
****
A t dawn Becca came to a woozy consciousness, her body warm, her private parts even warmer. In fact, her vulva throbbed with sexual heat. Her breasts tingled and her nipples grew hard.
A big male body was flush against hers and his thick penis was rock hard and pushed up against her butt cheeks. If she hadn’t been wearing her underwear, he would have been inside her.
Still groggy and without thinking, she pushed back, made slight grinding movements against his hard-on. God, it felt good. It had been a while since she’d had sex. Her body let her know the time was now. She was a sensual woman, one who enjoyed intimate sexual expression, was often eager for it. She loved the closeness, the warmth, the earth-shattering orgasms.
Sighing in deep arousal, she took a short breath and sighed again, and gave a little hum. Sliding her hand down her body, she wormed her fingers beneath the waistband of her panties.
“If you touch yourself I’m gonna explode.” A male voice rumbled in her ear.
Becca’s eyes flew open.
Rio.
She froze and withdrew her hand. She was in bed. In the mountain cabin. With a man paid to take her home.
In the morning light, stark reality crashed back into her consciousness. A little fantasizing was one thing. Actually acting upon those fantasies was another.
He placed his hand on her hip, caressed it. “Say yes, Becca, and I’ll do the work for you. My fingers are magic. You won’t be sorry, I promise. Say yes.” He kissed her ear, gave her a tiny pelvic thrust, rubbed the hard length of his penis against her.
Pushing his hand away, she rolled to her belly and got up onto her elbows. “Sorry, I was still asleep,” she said, aware that at least some of this was her fault. “The answer is still no.”
“A shame.” He sounded disappointed, but not greatly so. And so impersonal. At least she knew that Mr. Cool got raging hard-ons. He wasn’t so cool down below.
Seeing the impassivity in his expression made her glad she hadn’t succumbed to him. He wasn’t Mr. Cool. But he wasn’t all warm and fuzzy, either. “Can you get me out of here today? I need to find out about Maria, my college roommate, and her dad, the ambassador—see if they’re okay. I’m not sick any more. Can we leave?”
He groaned and rolled up off the bed. Thrusting his hands through his hair, he said, “I need to scout the area.” Methodically he pulled on outer clothing, and when he was dressed for the outdoors, he hesitated. “I’ll need to climb the mountain. Keep watch for a while. Are you gonna run again?”
Becca licked her lips. “No. You’ve kept your word to me. I’ll stick with you.”
He gave only a curt nod, and left.
When the door slammed, leaving a gust of frigid air to swirl into the cabin, Becca felt alone. Her body wished she’d had a bout of good, clean, mindless sex.
And her vulva still throbbed.