Behind Enemy Lines (20 page)

Tom grabbed Annie’s arm and hauled her with him as he ran forward, his rifle slung at the ready by his hip. “Where to?”

“Turn right out of the alley and go north on Reynaldo.”

Following her directions, they broke into a run and burst out into the street. They sprinted down the sidewalk, heedless of any noise they might be making. Speed was of the essence now.

The group set a blistering pace, and Tom’s respiration expanded and deepened into a stitch in his side. Thank goodness he’d been working out as hard as he had.

Annie ran beside him, breathing heavily. As much as he wanted to reach out and help her, it took all his energy to keep up with the team.

They pounded through an intersection, and then the street curved and climbed a sharp incline. Annie’s breathing turned to rasping.

“Keep pushing,” he panted. “Breathe deep. Exhale hard.” It was all the advice he could squeeze out of his own burning lungs.

A rumbling noise intruded on the silence around them. Tanks. The metallic clang of treads on pavement grew audible behind them.

They neared the top of a longer, steeper hill and Annie gasped, “Left. Turn at the next street. It looks like a dead end—” she took a wheezing breath “—but it’s not.”

The shifting of engine gears drew near. The tanks were maybe a block behind them, one curve away from spotting their fleeing forms.

Annie’s steps began to slow.

“Run, Annie! You can make it. We’re almost there!”

“I…can’t…last building…on left…”

Tom reached over and ripped the small pack from Annie’s shoulders, flinging it to the ground. He grabbed her elbow and dragged her forward with the last bit of his strength.

“I’m not leaving you behind. I’ll die beside you if I have to,” he gasped.

The headlights of the tank behind them lit the buildings at the base of the hill as the vehicle started a ponderous turn up the curving street behind them. The white beam of death gained on them mercilessly as Tom reached for the last ounce of strength in his being.

They weren’t going to make it.

And then strong arms came under his elbows as Dutch and Mac dropped back beside him, propelling him forward. Annie seemed lifted from his hand as Tex and Doc grabbed her. As one, they sprinted for their lives.

Howdy already crouched ahead at the corner Annie’d indicated, calmly sighting the minigun at the street behind them.

They dived for the corner as the tank rounded the curve behind them. Bare instants after they hit the ground, the whining fury of Howdy’s gatling gun deafened them.

Machine gun fire rat-a-tatted in response as Tom rolled to his feet and took a quick head count. All present and accounted for.

“Fighting retreat! Annie to the rear.”

Instantly the team fanned out. Annie went with Tex and Doc as they sprinted a hundred yards down the street. Dutch stayed with Howdy at the gun, and Mac went with Tom. They leapfrogged backward as the team farthest back sprinted its retreat and the other teams covered them.

Apparently the minigun had performed its equalizing task admirably, for no troops pursued them down the narrow, black street.

Each time a team passed Annie, they grabbed her and hauled her along, always keeping her with the hindmost team. They’d gone several hundred yards when Annie tugged at Tom’s sleeve.

“That’s it.” She pointed at a large, ornate stone building behind a tall wrought-iron fence.

“Everyone inside,” Tom ordered.

They retreated in good order through the garden and into the shadows of the deep, arched vestibule of the front entrance.

While Annie knocked urgently on the door, Tom asked, “What is this place? A church?”

The front door opened to reveal deep gloom. They slipped inside while the heavy wood portal closed out the sounds of gunfire behind them.

Annie’s amused voice answered him out of the darkness. “Nope. This isn’t a church. It’s the best brothel in Gavarone.”

A light flipped on to reveal a gaudy, wallpapered hallway lined with a series of gilt-framed mirrors. Tom gaped blankly at Annie.

“You brought us to a brothel?”

“It’s the one place neither side would dare attack.”

The muscular bouncer who’d opened the door for them piped up in flawless English, “We have declared strict neutrality in the current unpleasantness. We are the Switzerland of Gavarone, as it were.”

Tom didn’t know whether to laugh or be appalled.

“I sure hope so, because there are tanks right around the corner from you.”

“The fighting will not come down our little street. The proprietor has had solemn promises on that from the commanding generals of both armies.”

Howdy grinned. “Now that you mention it, it did seem a little too easy how we made it that last stretch without any pursuit.”

Tom shook his head. “I’ll be damned.”

The bouncer looked at them disapprovingly. “You will have to clean up and relinquish your weapons if you wish to partake of the delights of the house.”

Like hell he was giving up his weapons. Tom opened his mouth to say just that when Doc’s hand landed casually on his shoulder. The medic spoke to the bouncer.

“Is this by any chance Señora Armando’s House of Fine Relaxation?”

The fellow flashed a broad grin. “It is.”

Doc fairly gushed, “Thank goodness. I was beginning to despair of ever finding this place. We have come from far away to visit you. Your reputation extends well beyond the borders of your country.”

The bouncer’s chest expanded. “Does it now?”

Doc laid on the flattery thick and fast, while Tom watched him, bemused. His brows shot up when Doc explained that they’d be glad to compensate the proprietor at double the usual fees, due to the current climate of uncertainty.

That seemed to thaw out their host mightily.

The bouncer was distracted momentarily when a girl approached from the other direction and whispered in his ear.

Doc used the interruption to murmur, “This guy is ‘Señora’ Armando. If he likes you, he won’t report you to the authorities. But if you cross him…”

The owner turned back to them.

Doc shifted topics instantly, “I was just congratulating my friends on braving a veritable war zone to partake of your fabled delights.”

“You came, knowing the war was about to start?”

Tom interjected solemnly, “We did. You see, we’re a little club of…connoisseurs. We scour the world in search of ultimate pleasure.”

Tex grinned and looked over his shoulder at Tom. “That’s us, all right.”

Tom scowled back at Tex, but addressed himself to the owner. “We’d just like to sleep tonight. It was a rather arduous trip. Tomorrow when we’ve rested up, then we can sample the ladies. No delights are necessary this evening.”

The fellow’s demeanor changed abruptly. “No girls, no rooms. We’re not a hotel. If you don’t partake, you’re out of here.”

Tom noted sourly that all his guys grinned widely at that. Crud. If they went back outside, they’d be mowed down in the crossfire of two armies. He sighed.

“If we must, I suppose we can find the strength to partake this evening. After all, we’ve gone through so much to get here. Perhaps you could show us to several bathrooms so we might wash up a bit first?”

Tex slapped him on the shoulder. “Ahh, the sacrifices we make in the line of duty.”

Mac chimed in, “It’ll be rough, but I’ll do my best to be
up
to it.”

Even Doc chuckled and mumbled, “How are we ever going to explain this on our expense reimbursement forms?”

Their host cut in. “The woman will be extra.”

Tom frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“You want a three-way with your girlfriend, yes?”

Tom’s gaze swiveled to Annie, who looked shocked to her toes. “Uh, yes, I guess so.”

His guys were abruptly silent, all gaping at him. Annie blinked and swallowed convulsively before she nodded, looking dazed.

He glanced at his men and murmured, “Not a word or I’ll break your necks. Is that understood?”

They all nodded meekly.

Resolutely he followed “Señora” Armando’s six-and-a-half-foot tall frame down the hallway to a rest room, where he scrubbed off the black greasepaint and cleaned himself up for he knew not what next.

Chapter 11

A
nnie looked around the bedroom the languid blonde was showing them. Whatever she’d expected, this wasn’t it. The room was decorated with beautiful antiques and heavy, mahogany furniture. Several small, fringed lamps lit the space artfully, casting shadows across the enormous bed that dominated the room.

“What now?” Annie asked.

She looked on, relieved, as Tom pulled out a wad of Gavronese money and instructed the prostitute who was supposed to entertain them to go away and hide until morning. The blonde seemed more than happy to comply.

“Start a normal conversation,” he murmured.

Normal? In a brothel in the middle of a war zone? Sure. Let’s see. She and Tom and the guys were supposed to be connoisseurs sampling the pleasures of fine bordellos around the world.

“Honestly, Tom. Did we have to come here tonight? Couldn’t we have waited until this stupid revolution was over to try out this particular gourmet brothel?”

He walked the length of the walls, using a handheld, electronic gadget to search their surfaces for bugs or cameras.

He answered her over his shoulder, “But it’s the danger that gives it spice. Our customers wouldn’t have paid half as much as they did for this excursion if they hadn’t had to duck bullets to get here.”

The sound of bullets flying past her ears was one Annie would never forget. The ominous zinging of ricocheting lead made her flinch just to think about it.

Tom gestured her to talk more while he inspected the furniture. Someone would no doubt burst in and shoot them if she didn’t keep up the pretense. The panic that had been clawing at her for the past hour blanked her thoughts. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“So who gets to be on top tonight?”

Tom abruptly stopped what he was doing and looked up at her. A predatory grin split his features. “I think it’s your turn.”

That was the same smile he’d flashed briefly at his men after they cut down the soldiers in the alley—the wolf congratulating his pack on a clean kill. Annie shuddered. It had been sheer luck they didn’t get gunned down themselves in that alley. She still smelled the death there, sharp and metallic, as blood had spurted.

He finished his search with a last glance around the room.

“All clear,” he announced.

Annie exhaled a sigh of relief, but that brought her back to her original question. “So what now? Do we rappel out the window and keep pressing on toward the ocean?”

“Nope. Now we hunker down and get a good night’s sleep.”

Annie stared at him. “You’re kidding, right? I couldn’t sleep if my life depended on it.”

His expression turned serious. “It may. You’ll need your rest before this is over. We’re not clear of this country by a long shot.”

A shudder swept through her. “Great.”

“Have a little faith, angel. We made it this far, and that’s a minor miracle.” He swept a critical look down her body. “In the meantime, you need to get out of those clothes. Unless I miss my mark, you broke a sweat running from that tank and you’re damp. Your clothes need to be dry before we leave here tomorrow. The last thing we need is for you to get sick.”

The cotton turtleneck
was
sticking to her body steamily. And then suddenly, she was choking, unable to take a deep breath. A band of terror closed itself more and more tightly around her ribs. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to be out of that shirt. She tore it off over her head, taking the throat mike with it. She kicked off her shoes and socks and peeled off her pants for good measure, too.

Annie scrubbed her hands hard over her skin to remove the cloying, filthy feeling blanketing her.

And then Tom grabbed her, pulling her against his chest and holding her so tight she could barely breathe.

“It’s okay, angel. We made it.”

But not by much, they hadn’t. Annie still felt the tank’s spotlights gaining on them, still tasted the helplessness of knowing she wasn’t strong enough or fast enough to outrun its promise of death. Her heart pounded anew.

Tom’s clothes were rough against her bare skin, his arms iron bands surrounding her. Everywhere she touched him tonight, he was a soldier. From his sculpted granite shoulders to the ammo pouches on his belt to the bulge of a pistol on his hip, all of it spoke of lethal skill.

This side of him frightened her, but it also fascinated her. It was primitive and wild, barely controlled, and all the more dangerous because it was tightly leashed. When he’d warned her he’d be in commando mode tonight, she’d never dreamed this was what he’d meant. Nothing she’d seen of him before had hinted at this.

She suspected any less of a warrior would have failed her tonight. But he hadn’t. They were all safe—for the moment.

The fear and creeping horror of the past several hours finally caught up with Annie, and she began to shake. Adrenaline surged through her veins, making her tremble uncontrollably.

She burrowed her face in his shoulder and let the aftershocks run their course. He murmured comforting sounds into her hair, gradually calming her. Tom’s solid body absorbed her quivering until she finally stilled.

“I thought we were going to die,” she whispered.

“Nah, not us. We’re the best.”

Annie reached up and placed a hand on each of his lean cheeks. “Nobody’s invincible, Tom. Not even you. Promise me you won’t forget that and try something only a superhero could pull off.”

His eyes went dark and hard. “I know my limits. But make no mistake about it. I’m in this to win. We
will
get out of here alive.”

Annie flinched at the sharp edge in his voice. Restless, she paced the confines of the room, doing laps around the big bed that dominated the center of the space.

When Tom turned out the light and plunged the room into inky blackness, she was forced to halt. She listened, her senses on edge, and just managed to hear him move to the bed and stretch out on it.