pdf - Eye of the Storm.PDF (7 page)

"Fine. Do. She won't believe you." She turned her back on him and walked to her brother. "Well, did old Pablo share anything new and exciting?"

"No." Tweeter frowned and placed the back of his hand against her forehead. "Jesus, Imp, you're burning up and where's your damn hat?" He moved to pick her up.

Ren muttered under his breath and reached Keely in two steps and swung her into his arms before Tweeter could, then plopped the hat on her disheveled curls. "Let's get to that damn helo and get her out of this heat."

Keely was pretty darn sure she could walk, but Ren, the headstrong bastard, wouldn't put her down. And Tweeter, the traitor, didn't challenge his boss on the issue. She'd have something to say to her brother later about sibling loyalty.

Truth be told, she felt like dog poop. Her fever, and she did indeed have one, was partially a result of dehydration and the rest due to a possible infection from the human bite marks on the lower curves of her breasts, the deeper marks the others hadn't seen yet—and only Tweeter would see once they got back to the hotel. He could help her clean the wounds. She had a military field medical kit in her luggage; it included wide-spectrum antibiotics. Her Dad always said never go to any third-world country without a well-supplied medical kit. Once again he was proven correct. She'd have to remember to tell him when she talked to him.

But first they had to get back to the hotel. And if her spider sense was working one hundred percent, that wonderful occurrence wouldn't happen soon or easily.

"Ren. Tweeter. Vanko." She hissed in a low tone "Stop. Now."

Ren had somehow sensed her alarm before she'd spoken and had ducked under the frothy leaves of a giant fern. The others joined them.

"Put me down, dammit, and weapon up." She reached for the extra H&K Ren carried on his shoulder. He fought her for it for a few seconds until she pinched a nerve in his elbow. He swore at her but relinquished the gun. "I'm itching like crazy, Tweetie."

"She's correct. There are men waiting ahead," Vanko said. "I can smell cigar smoke on the breeze. How far to the helo, Keelulya?"

She grimaced. "It's maybe two hundred yards ahead. Over the small rise we're approaching."

They all crouched silently and listened. A cough carried on the wind. The low murmur of men's voices. The clink of metal on metal.

She growled under her breath. "They'd better not be messing with my helicopter."

Ren looked at her in askance. His lips quirked. Damn, he was good-looking when he lightened up a bit. He wasn't classically handsome, but then she'd never appreciated pretty boys. She'd always been attracted to men like her dad and brothers; tough, rough around the edges, protective, but gooey in the middle with their women. Ren met most of her essential requirements—time would tell on the gooey middle part.

Yeah, Ren Maddox could be a danger to her mental and emotional health. He definitely was a danger to her physically. He'd had an erection ever since they met. She was highly familiar with male penises of all lengths and girths and their tendency to pop up unannounced, having seen too many as she grew up with five older brothers and all their friends. Ren's penis was definitely larger than all her brothers' appendages. Damn the CIA for having such complete files. And his arousal hadn't subsided even during the firefight. That was just not normal. Why that particular fact made her womb clench and her mouth go dry, she wasn't sure—but damn, she wanted to find out. Timing sucked, though.

"Keely," Ren whispered against her ear. She shivered—whether due to her fever or the feeling of his breath against her sensitive ear lobe, it was a toss up. "Stay here. We'll handle them. Don't come out until one of us comes for you."

"But, I can—”

Three "nos" came from the men. Outnumbered by testosterone as usual. Story of her life.

Ren brushed his hand over her back. She shivered again. She wanted to blame the reaction on her fever, but recognized it was his touch. "Please, just stay safe. You're feverish. Let us take care of you."

She nodded. Her lips thinned as the three left her. They'd better come back for her in less than ten minutes, because that was all the time she'd give them. There was cold water on the helicopter in a cooler and she wanted it. And nothing was keeping her from her nice, comfy, ice-cold, dehumidified hotel suite any longer than necessary. She'd take on fifty effing mercs to get her damn helo back.

Holding the H&K across her lap, she observed the three men meld into the forest.

She sighed. They moved so well together, fluidly, a sign of lots of training. Her dad would approve. The way they signaled and choreographed their approach on the enemy reminded her of the war games she used to play with her brothers and Dad's recruits around Camp Lejune. It had been hot and humid there, too. She'd never gotten used to the southern weather, which is why when she went away to college she'd gone north. Hell, even Boston was too hot in the summer, but she at least could go to the Cape to escape the city heat.

Short, rapid bursts of submachine gun fire startled her out of her feverish reverie.

Damn, she needed to get with the program. Daydreaming was a good way to get her butt shot. She sprawled on her stomach, wincing at the evidence of even more bruising.

Gutting it out, she snaked her way toward the rise. The guys might need back up, whether they'd admit it or not.

The gunfire came in sporadic bursts. In her mind, she visualized her three men moving constantly so the mercs or whoever had been waiting at the helo couldn't get a bead on them.

A furious spate of really foul Spanish sounded to her right. Too close. The sound of feet, maybe two sets, crashed through the undergrowth. They were less than ten feet away and heading for her position.

Furious shouts in Russian reached her. Vanko had seen her danger and alerted Ren and her brother. Quickly, she found cover behind the large trunk of a fallen tree. She placed the H&K to her side within reach. She extracted her knife and placed it next to the automatic weapon, then pulled her Bren Ten from its holster at her back. Close-in work demanded a handgun.

God, the fever was really making her dizzy. She blinked sweat from her eyes and kept her fuzzy gaze fixed on the place the enemy would break through. She took a two-handed grip on the powerful pistol, bracing her hands on the trunk. Then she waited.

The first man burst through the dense foliage. He spotted her immediately; her hat had fallen off during her crawl, her halo of red hair was a dead giveaway. Before the man could even raise his weapon, she popped off two shots. The first one hit him in the forehead, then the insurance shot, in the chest on his way down.

She let go of the gun with one hand and wiped away the sweat pouring down her forehead. She couldn't afford burning eyes at this juncture.

The second man, alerted by his companion's fall, dove behind a tree and began firing at her. His shots were wild and off the mark, but splinters from the trunk hit her cheek.

Concerned about her bleary eyesight, she ducked down and played dead. She needed to draw him out. She wouldn't miss head-on. Plus, she knew from the sound of the other gunfire abating, that one of her guys would be coming soon.

Forcing herself to breathe slowly and calmly, she listened and waited.

"
Senorita
? Come out, I won't hurt you."

Yeah, like she was going to do anything that damn stupid. Her dad would tan her hide if she fell for such a trick. In her mind, she tried to anticipate what the macho idiot would do. Frontal attack or circle around? She'd have to play for both. Good thing she'd handled an H&K one-handed before. Shifting her Bren Ten to her left, her less dominant hand, she picked up the larger weapon with her right. All safeties off? She felt for them.

Check. Everything was good to go.

Her ears ringing from all the high-caliber shots, she trusted in her spider sense. Her gut said bad guy was coming at her from the front and slightly to her right.

"
Senorita?
"

Dumbass. Now she knew where he was. She came up to her knees in one smooth mood, firing. There was no way to miss him with both guns blazing. A shot from her Bren Ten hit his shoulder, turning him away from her. She tracked his large body mass with the automatic weapon, firing a stream of torso shots. The man fell to the ground.

She ducked behind her fallen tree just in case none of her shots had been kill shots.

She stayed in place to see who would come next.

"Keely!" Ren's furious roar was a welcome sound. She slumped against the sturdy tree. She was too tired to answer him. He'd find her. Somehow she knew he'd always find her.

Two short bursts told her he'd made sure the mercs were dead.

"Yo, big guy? I think I killed them already." Her voice slurred. "Ren?" Was that weak, wimpy voice hers?

"Yeah, ya did." He stepped over the downed tree and knelt next to her. "Let go of the guns, baby." He tugged at the H&K. She let him have it, but tucked the Bren in her holster after flicking on the safety.

"I'm not a baby." She glared, but wasn't sure it was effective since she was weaker than a new Marine recruit after his first full day of training. "Hey, guys! All the bad guys dead?"

"You bet, sis," Tweeter said. "Dad would be proud."

"Yeah, stupid asshole thought I'd come out and surrender like some silly girl." She laughed and raised a hand to her whirling head. "Dad would've dropped the f-bomb all over the place if we ever did anything so damn dumb."

Tweeter hunkered down on her other side and cast a concerned gaze over her. "Yeah, and Mom would've made out like a bandit when he had to buy her something in forfeit."

"Jewelry," she muttered as the world began to spin even though she was flat on her stomach. "Dad always buys her jewelry." She found Ren's frowning face. "The rain forest is spinning. Make it stop."

"Wish I could, sweetheart." He pulled her into his arms, turning her so she lay cuddled against his chest, then stood with her. An amazing feat of strength she would be sure to admire later—when she was safe and clean and rested—and not so dizzy.

Did he just kiss her hair? Oh yeah, he did. She sighed. She could get used to this kind of treatment. She snuggled her head into his chest. He smelled good, all clean, manly sweat.

"I'm going to get down on my knees and thank your father for teaching you how to survive." His voice sounded strained. "God, Keely, when Vanko said they were coming your way, I… I…"

Was that panic in his voice? Okay, she really was in trouble—he met the gooey center test.

"I'm fine. Stupid bad guys can't get the best of me. I'm a Walsh-trained Marine, sort of." Keely peered through her lashes at Ren. "You hurt, big guy?" She swiped at a tear that leaked from the corner of his eye.

"No, just … worried … about you." He pressed a light kiss near the corner of her mouth.

She licked her lips. "You taste good. Feel good, too." Her words were more and more slurred—and what was she saying? He'd think she was easy or something. Damn, she was really sick. She wiggled closer to his warmth. "Cold now. So tired. I want my hotel room and … and…"

"And what?"

"The biggest frick-fracking Pepsi you can find."

Ren pressed her head snugly against his chest. "I'll find Pepsi if I have to go to Buenos Aires to get it."

She patted his chest. "That would be nice. Still have the GPS, Vanko?"

"Yes, Keely. I'll get us to Puerto Iguazu."

"Good man." She nuzzled Ren's bared throat. Yeah, he really smelled good. All musky male heat and something citrusy. She tasted his throat with her tongue. The big strong man shuddered; she liked that. Yep, Ren was a warrior with a gooey center and tasted like a man margarita. Yummy. She yawned. She had to tell them something before she succumbed to the fuzzy darkness. Oh, yeah, hotel.

"Sheraton in the National Park. Rooms are in Tweeter's … and my names—"

"Go to sleep." Tweeter's voice came from somewhere in the dark, hot fog that swept through her brain. "When did you last sleep?"

She frowned. "Over thirty-six hours ago?" She yawned again, her jaw cracking. "

'Scuse me. Adrenaline crash … Tweetie?"

"Yeah?" Her brother stroked her arm as it lay over Ren's shoulder.

"Med kit in luggage. You—just you—take care of me."

As everything faded to solid black, she heard a "like hell, baby" from the man who carried her.

Ren waited in the hallway outside the top floor set of suites Keely had the foresight to reserve for them at the Iguazu National Park Sheraton. He glanced at the small woman lying so still in his arms. She hadn't regained consciousness since the attack in the rain forest. Not even the loud rotor and engine noise of the Kamov had roused her. He'd alternately prayed and sworn under his breath during the entire trip to the hotel. This was a perfect example of why women didn't belong on battlefields or black ops missions.

Red flags of fever were the only color on her face. The rest of her skin was pasty white and damp from the sweats that had alternated with chills. If he had to guess, she was running a temp of at least a hundred and two. She had an infection somewhere. He only hoped it was one treatable with the antibiotics they had on hand and not some tropical bug she picked up on her valiant, but mad dash to warn them.

Vanko stuck his head out the door. "It's clear. Her brother is running a cool bath to get her temperature down. I will find her luggage and seek out the medical kit."

Ren nodded and hurried toward the sound of running water. As he entered the bathroom located off a large, luxurious bedroom, Tweeter stood up from the side of a spa tub big enough for all four of them and held his arms out for his sister. "Give her to me."

"No." For some goddamn reason, he couldn't bear to let her loose, not even to her brother. He didn't want to examine his feelings on the issue now, he just knew he had some and they were strong. "I'm staying. It'll take two of us to bathe her and then check out the wounds."

"Ren… Keely won't like this … and I'm not sure…"