Cherry Adair - T-flac 03 (10 page)

Her fingers shot to the flat, half-inch-wide gold band around her throat. "Zap?" she asked faintly, holding it away from her clammy skin. She'd been girding her loins to leave the protection of the compound tomorrow if she didn't locate Lauren tonight.

Zap?

"Probably a radio-controlled fence buried out here somewhere this side of the chain-link fence. They use them to confine dogs. An electronic deterrent. This appears considerably more sophisticated, of course.

But then our friend has acquired somewhat refined taste. Twenty-four-carat gold—"

Delanie gripped the restrictive band in a tight fist and gave him a pleading look. "Get it
off me
."

"No can do, jungle girl. I'm sure Ramon will want it back when you leave, though."

She shot him a fulminating look before storming off. He made no more comments, which she appreciated enormously. The necklace that had merely annoyed her for the last few days, now gave her the willies. The few ounces of gold, pretty and delicate, felt like a garrote at her throat.

Could she remove it right now? she asked herself. No. Delanie put the necklace out of her mind. There wasn't a thing she could do about it for the present.

She concentrated on her nemesis instead. The way he switched from lover to villain, and then back again, made her damn wary. He did it in the blink of an eye, with no warning, and there was no avoiding him.

Tree trunks spread their leafed branches hundreds of feet in the air, while underfoot, wrist-thick roots looped and snaked beneath the detritus to trip the unwary. Moss fuzzed the tree bark, a verdant home to the insect population that made the air hum and buzz in a muted undertone overshadowed only now and then by an occasional birdcall or a monkey's shrill howl.

Her shirt clung unpleasantly to her back in the stifling hothouse atmosphere. Every surface either oozed or dripped water. Thick and hard to breathe, the humid air felt like a living presence as she and the others followed single file in the wake of half a dozen locals using razor-sharp machetes to hack a path through the jungle.

The thick carpet of dead leaves underfoot felt spongy and dank, the undergrowth littered with man-size ferns and knots of leafy vines. Delanie watched for snakes.

Concentrating on where she put each foot, she worried her lower lip with her teeth. She'd skillfully managed to push reality out of the way in the past week.

My God, how
will
I get Lauren out of here? And how am I going to get this blasted necklace off
?

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She glanced over her shoulder. Kyle clearly wanted her gone. What if she asked him to help her find Lauren? She could offer him money. It was obviously important to him.

She mulled over the idea of putting the house she'd worked so hard to get up for sale. Combined with her 401K, minus the IRS's take, she could come up with about a hundred thousand dollars. Would Kyle help her find Lauren and get them both safely out of here for that amount?

The first, optimistic thought was that he'd say "certainly." Lead her to her sister, fly them out, and wave them good-bye.

The second, far more realistic thought was that Kyle knew exactly where Lauren was and had something to do with Montero taking her in the first place. In which case, alerting him to who she was and what she wanted would be really stupid.

Nope. She was all on her lonesome.

Practical was her middle name.

Lauren was somewhere nearby. Delanie was sure of it. But in the meantime, God only knew what the rest of the family was up to. She hadn't talked to anyone in over a week. And in her family that was a lot of time for the shit to hit the fan.

She'd always taken extinguishing the constant fires and dramas stirred up by them in her stride. Lauren.

Mom. Grandpa and Aunt Pearl and assorted cousins, aunts, and uncles who came to her. Their ups and downs were all a safe and familiar routine in her life. Disruptive, but familiar.

Sandy better not be in jail when she got back, Delanie thought grimly as she trudged along. Her youngest cousin and Lauren were two peas in a pod. Too beautiful and too vivacious for their own good. They attracted the wrong kind of men to them like ants to a picnic. But where her sister was truly sweet and good inside, Sandra had always been hell on wheels and hard to control. She'd have to talk to Sandra again when she got home.
When
she got home.

Delanie sighed. She missed her family.

She missed the smell of chalk and uncontrollable giggles in her classroom.

She missed her life, damn it.

Lauren, where the hell
are
you?

"My grandmother used to tell us the clock would strike, and our faces would stay that way forever.

Why're you frowning?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "You have a grandmother?"

"She died a few months ago. But I do have a father, three brothers, a gorgeous sister and a cool brother-in-law if you want references."

She frowned. "I thought all you soldier of fortune types were loners."

Kyle held a man-size leaf aside for her. His lips twitched as she passed beneath his arm. "Known many
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soldiers of fortune, have you?"

"Not a lot, no." Delanie gave him a curious glance. "Why do you work for a man like Ramon, Kyle?

Surely there are legitimate private investors who would give you anything you wanted to work for them?"

"Montero's supposed to be the richest guy in the world," Kyle said, pale eyes shuttered, expression unreadable. "Why the interest? Trying to reform me?"

The others were some distance away. Delanie stopped on the rough path to put a hand on his arm.

"Not reform. But we both know what he is—Doesn't working for him scare you at all?"

Kyle's expression softened a little and he brushed a strand of sweat-dampened hair off her cheek, keeping his fingertips on her face for a moment.

"Yeah, he scares the hell out of me, jungle girl. But the money's good, and the hours suit me just fine.

And once in a while my pal gives me a present I can really enjoy." He grinned. Cocky. Sure of himself.

Confident of his place in the hierarchy of Montero's empire. "Don't knock the bad guys, honey. They have all the fun."

She frowned "How old are you?"

"Thirty-two."

"Are you the oldest?"

"Second youngest."

Delanie scuffed a toe in the slick ground beneath her boot. "Figures, your sister's the oldest. She must worry herself sick over you."

It was Kyle's rum to frown. "Why would you presume that? Actually Marnie's the baby of the family, and we all did our share of worrying about
her
."

She started walking again, reluctantly. Kyle stayed right behind her on the narrow path.

"You an only child?" he asked.

"No. I have a younger sister, Lauren." And a flaky mom, and my grandfather and aunt living with me, and numerous other family members who depend on me to worry on their behalf when they go off half-cocked into the wild blue yonder. "I come from a pretty big family, though. Lots of aunts and uncles and cousins."

"And they let you come all the way to South America alone?"

"Yes." Facing front, she rolled her eyes, amused. "What were they thinking?"

"Yeah," Kyle said grimly. "What the hell were they thinking?"

"Probably that while the cat's away the mice can play," Delanie said absently as they closed the gap between themselves and Montero and his merry little band up ahead. "When we—when I get back
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home, they'll all be waiting for me out on my front lawn."

"Family's great."

Surprised, Delanie glanced over her shoulder to look at him. "You're close?"

"You bet. When we're lucky enough to get together."

Delanie faced front again and resumed walking, an uncomfortable ache in her chest. "Us, too." The only reason her family stayed together was because she held them that way. Tightly binding them together with love so fierce, so big, they couldn't all go to hell in a handbasket and scatter to the four winds.

She scowled as a vine caught in her hair, and paused to untangle herself. She hoped Auntie Pearl was taking her medicine like she was supposed to, and that Grandpa wasn't driving her nuts in Delanie's absence…

Ahead, Ramon and the others slowed, surrounded by his guards who all wore camouflage and carried Uzis. Handy if a wild boar decided they were the smorgasbord of the day. She heard the shrill, tortured cry of a bird, the rustle of leaves as a small animal rushed through the forest unseen, and the splash of water.

"We came all the way out here to go swimming?" Delanie asked Kyle incredulously. "With a nice, clean, Olympic-size pool behind the safety of a chain-link fence back at the house?"

"There's no accounting for tastes, jungle girl. Remember that," he warned, his voice hard, as he gave her a meaningful look.

The guards stood back, holding the feathery emerald ferns aside as Montero and his guests emerged into a small, bucolic clearing in the middle of the jungle, a la Tarzan.

A small pond shimmered in the half light, idyllic and tranquil. Huge sprays of magenta orchids flourished on the mossy banks and dozens of brilliant coral-colored butterflies sipped their reflections on the mirrored surface. A trickling stream fed a narrow silver ribbon over slick green rocks, then tumbled into water so transparent Delanie could see the small stones and debris on the sandy bottom.

In fact she wouldn't mind a quick dip in that cool water right now. The thick air wrapped around her, humid and heavily fragrant. It was a beautiful spot.

Ramon snapped his fingers and one of his guards approached carrying a large plastic bag. He set it on the loamy earth and Montero opened it, nodding in satisfaction.

"You will all enjoy this. It is one of my more amusing entertainments when I'm home."

Danzigger, red hair sweat-slicked to his pale skull, appeared more concerned with the sweat drenching his clothing than whatever their host was up to. Kensington stood well back, out of the line of fire, apparently attempting to blend his scarecrow-thin body into the foliage. Like an albino, his thin, blond hair disappeared, almost invisible in the damp heat. He'd started the outing in neatly pressed khaki pants and shirt; now both were sweat—and vegetation—stained. He didn't look any happier than Delanie felt.

Delanie glanced at Sugano. Now there was a man intrigued. His small features were lost in the fleshy sag of his shiny face as he watched Montero avidly. He moved as if his shoes pinched and his underwear had
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given him a wedgie.

Welcome to the club, pal, she thought. So far
everybody
was giving her the creeps.

Montero's fingers snapped again. This time in her direction. The implication, and the gesture, annoyed the hell out of her. She almost told him what he could do with those fingers, then remembered herself and gave him a vapid smile.

Going to his side, she hooked her hand through his arm, the bulky purse between them. At her feet the large plastic bag had been opened. She wrinkled her nose. Whatever was in it stunk to high heavens.

Ramon smiled radiantly. "Would you like to throw first, little dove?"

"Throw… ?" She peered into the bag. It looked revoltingly like… ground hamburger. She shot Ramon a blank look.

He wrapped a strong hand about her wrist, then plunged her hand into the moist, glutinous mess.

Oh
yuck
!

Raw, bloody meat squished between her fingers. She tried to pull back, but he held her fast, his fingers tight about the fragile bones of her wrist. Reflexively her eyes flew to where Kyle stood apart from everyone else, his shoulder propped against a tree. He watched impassively, his arms folded over his chest.

"Close your hand,
mi paloma
," Ramon purred. She squeezed her eyes shut; at the same time he yanked her fist out of the plastic bag. Coagulated fat and bits of meat clung to her skin. She shuddered, opened her eyes and stared unblinkingly at the romantic little pond until the orchids and butterflies blurred.

"Throw it into the water."

Grossed out, she did an underhand throw. Speckled bits of raw flesh arced through the air before pitting the reflective surface. She watched them slowly drift beneath the clear tranquil water.

The change happened swiftly. One second the transparent water was mirror calm, the next, from beneath the rocky overhang and from amid the grasses, came a furious churning. The water turned to bubbling pink froth within seconds. Vaguely aware that her hand was still hanging in the air, she dropped it to her side, swallowing hard as she took several steps backward.

Piranha.

Sugano, Kensington, and Karl Danzigger seemed fascinated by the macabre spectacle. The soldiers stood at attention on the perimeter of the small clearing, feet braced, Uzis at the ready.

Ramon smiled his wholesome, boyish grin. "Always wash your hands well after handling raw meat, my dove," he cautioned, taking her elbow in a firm grip.

She was damn sick of being manhandled. "Let go of me," she said, trying to shake free. He gave her a puzzled stare, as though he couldn't understand why she was protesting when he was giving her such a nice treat.

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She dug her boot heels into the loamy earth. His grip tightened. "Ramon, for God's sake—"

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said unctuously, and Sugano and Danzigger parted for them, watching her curiously as Montero inextricably guided her forward until her boot tips were on the rocky outcropping over the water. It seemed as though the whole jungle held its breath. A toucan shrieked in sympathy from a nearby branch. She could hear Montero's easy breath as his hand moved from upper arm to her wrist in an implacable grip.