Navy SEAL Captive (11 page)

Those had been Jenna's exact thoughts. And they were sobering. The women needed to get the bug on Devita and find out who had it in for Sawyer.

Fifteen minutes later, Jenna emerged from the bedroom garbed in a forest-green dress that hugged her body from her shoulders to her ankles. The neckline dropped almost down to her belly button in front. The back dipped to the lowest point in the small of her back without being considered indecent. The overall affect made her feel positively sexy and shameless.

Because they would be arriving by boat, she knew her hair would be a disaster if she left it down, so she'd pulled it up into a chic French twist, anchoring it with enough bobby pins to hold up against a typhoon-force wind. Carly helped her apply makeup to give her sexy, smoky eyes, emphasizing the deep green of her irises.

Shiny green emeralds sparkled at her throat and ears—a breakup gift to herself. On her feet she wore rhinestone-studded stilettos. She'd have to shed them to get on and off a boat, but to leave the hotel, she'd wear them like a champ, refusing to wobble.

A long, low wolf whistle sounded from near the windows. Quentin's face split in a wide grin. “Wow, Jenna. You look great.”

Then Carly emerged wearing a shimmering golden dress that brought out the highlights in her bright cap of dark hair. Her dress emphasized the fullness of her breasts, her narrow waist and the sensuous swell of her hips.

Quentin issued another long, low whistle and held out his hands to Carly. “Wow.”

“What?” She winked. “You talked my ear off all day and now you have nothing else to say but ‘wow'?”

“You two are more beautiful than words can describe.”

Carly tilted her head to the side. “That's better.” She turned to Jenna. “Ready?”

Jenna's stomach quivered, on the verge of a full-scale panic attack.

Quentin waved a hand toward the door. “Sawyer called while you two were getting ready. They secured a couple of boats to take us to the Playa del Sol. I checked with Duff. He will pick us up out front. Everything is ready.”

Just the mention of Sawyer strengthened Jenna's resolve. “Let's do this.” She pushed her shoulders back and marched toward the door.

On the way down in the elevator, the door opened at the eighth floor and Becca Smith stepped in. Her eyes widened and swept Jenna, Natalie and Carly with an appreciative glance. “Wow, you three look amazing.”

Jenna smiled. “Thank you. You look pretty great yourself.”

Becca wore a long royal blue gown that hugged every curve to perfection, dipped to a deep V in the front and swooped low in the back. “Thank you. Are you going out?”

Jenna nodded.

The elevator stopped again and picked up two couples, all young and talking at once.

When they finally reached the lobby level, the couples piled out. Jenna stepped through after Becca. “Enjoy your evening,” she said politely to the woman. Jenna's thoughts moved on to the task ahead.

Darkness had blanketed the Yucatán, the lights of the resort twinkling against the starlit sky. The ride to the marina took twenty minutes, the traffic slow as tourists hurried to make their dinner reservations at the many swanky restaurants and cafés.

Montana met them at the dock and led them to a different slip, where two small jet boats were moored. Sawyer straightened in the bow of one, his gaze going immediately to Jenna, his eyes widening. “Jenna?”

The shock and admiration shining from his eyes made Jenna even more confident in the choice of her dress.

He held out his hand. Instead of accepting it, she slipped out of her stilettoes first, then took his hand and stepped off the dock into the boat. A small wave tipped the craft slightly as she set her foot onto the deck, and she lost her balance.

Sawyer yanked her into his arms, crushing her against his chest, holding her until she was steady on her feet.

Unfortunately, being so close to him made her even less stable. Her knees wobbled, her pulse pounded and she couldn't quite catch her breath.

“Sweet heaven, you're beautiful,” he said against her ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers across her skin.

“Are you two going to make room for the rest of us?” Carly asked from above.

Jenna reluctantly pushed away from Sawyer, settled on a seat near the rear of the boat and wrapped a scarf around her hair.

Carly joined her and squeezed her knee. “I think he likes you, too.”

Jenna didn't respond, her heart still racing and her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. The man made her crazy with desire, and she was going to a club to seduce another man. She almost laughed out loud at the insanity of the evening ahead.

Quentin would drive the boat with the women, pretending to be the hired boat taxi driver, while the other three SEALs would tag along in the other boat in case they ran into trouble.

If all went as planned, the women would find Devita, plant the bug and leave shortly after. How hard could that be?

Jenna prayed it was as simple as that but suspected it wouldn't go off nearly as smoothly.

The water shimmered like glass, the tide and waves calm, making the ride around to the Playa del Sol smooth and uneventful. Jenna turned in her seat several times, looking for the other boat. Their craft sported the required lights affixed to the front and rear to make them easy to spot on the water. The boat carrying the other SEALs had the lights removed, making them harder to see and even harder to follow.

As they neared the dock at the Playa del Sol, Quentin slowed the boat.

Natalie sighed. “I wish I had my .40 caliber Heckler & Koch strapped to my leg beneath this dress.”

“Honey,” Carly said, “I don't think you could get anything else under that dress without it being real obvious.”

Natalie laughed. “Exactly why we're going in unarmed. Besides, if one of Devita's men found a gun on us, there's no telling what would happen. Tonight we're just three women out for a good time.”

“Do you have the tracking chip?” Jenna asked.

Natalie patted her breast. “I have it tucked into a tiny pocket inside the bra of this dress.”

“I want the name of your seamstress,” Carly said. “Why is it we never have pockets to carry important things?”

“Seriously,” Natalie agreed.

Quentin shook his head. “It's a whole new world, taking women into a covert op.”

Jenna chuckled nervously, praying she wouldn't unravel before they completed their mission.

Quentin pulled the boat into a slip at the dock, climbed out and helped the women alight.

“Break a leg,” he whispered to Jenna as he assisted her onto the dock. Laying on a thick Spanish accent, he pointed to the resort hotel and said, “Follow boardwalk to hotel. I wait here for you.”

Swallowing a giggle, Jenna slipped into her heels and trailed behind Carly and Natalie as they made their way along the boardwalk to the lavish hotel on the sand.

She hoped like hell she didn't break a leg, when she might need it to make a quick escape.

At the door, two armed men stopped them and demanded to see identification.

Jenna pulled her passport from the clutch she'd brought along and showed it to one of the men. He stared at the picture and then her and finally nodded, waving his pistol for her to pass.

One hurdle overcome, they entered the building soon to be occupied by a drug cartel kingpin and his small army of thugs.

Chapter Eleven

“This is a mistake.” Sawyer sat behind the steering wheel of the boat, watching from their position a hundred yards from the beach as the ladies crossed the boardwalk to the Playa del Sol.

“Three women at a bar on a Friday night shouldn't raise any red flags with Devita,” Montana said.

“Yeah, but they shouldn't have to be there,” Duff said. “We should be laying a trap for Devita and capturing him, not letting the women risk their lives to bug the guy.”

“Four against twenty,” Montana reminded him. “And civilians.”

Sawyer's lips pressed together and his jaw tightened as the women disappeared from sight. “I don't like being this far out. Shouldn't we put in and observe from somewhere closer? If they need us, we could be right there.”

“That was my plan,” Duff nodded toward the beach farther along the strand. “Now that they are in, we can land on the beach and sneak up on the hotel.”

“Now you're talking.”

“Just remember not to engage unless it's absolutely necessary,” Montana reminded them. “If bullets start flying, we put everyone in that building in danger.”

“Got it.” Sawyer patted the nine-millimeter pistol tucked into the waistband of his jeans as he shifted into Forward and sent the little boat toward the shore farther along the beach, using the tide to ground the craft. Fortunately the tide was on its way out. They wouldn't have to worry about the craft being carried away if they left it for an hour.

Sawyer stepped out of the boat onto the sand and spoke into his headset. “The eagles have landed.”

“The birds are in the cage,” Quentin replied, indicating the ladies had entered the hotel.

Sawyer crossed the beach, aiming for the dunes and scrub brush. Moving from bush to bush, he made his way to the trunk of a palm tree at the edge of the hotel property. As they neared the hotel, the men split up. Montana took the corner of the hotel near the beach. Duff took the other corner, away from the beach. Sawyer slipped farther around the front, hoping to track Devita's movements into the hotel.

Two men wearing hotel security guard uniforms stood at the entrance, pistols seated in their holsters at their waists.

“Got a rear exit on this end,” Montana reported. “And one security guard at the southwest corner.”

“Another guard on the southeast corner,” Duff's voice whispered into Sawyer's headset. “Want me to take him out?”

“Not yet. And only if necessary. Remember, we don't want an international incident.”

“Gotcha,” Montana responded. “Holding until you give the word.”

“Same,” Duff agreed.

Sawyer hid behind a bougainvillea bush, beneath a plumeria tree, lush with a plethora of blooms, the scent almost overpowering. He could see the circular drive leading to the hotel entrance from his position. So far, he'd seen no sign of Devita or his twenty-man army. For all they knew, the man would choose to skip his Friday-night routine and stay home. In which case it would be a long night waiting for a man who might not show.

Sawyer couldn't get over how amazing Jenna looked in that killer dress. His gut roiled at the thought of her being exposed to animals like Devita and his men. If anything happened, Sawyer and his teammates would get in somehow and get the ladies out, or die trying.

Five large, dark SUVs pulled into the circular drive, and men piled out carrying submachine guns and rifles. Some wore suits and ties. Others wore dark pants, T-shirts and black bandanas over their heads. The suits, carrying the automatic weapons, entered the hotel, blowing past the security guards, who didn't bother to draw their guns. Guests scurried out the front of the hotel, shooting worried glances over their shoulders.

The men dressed in black clothing spread out around the building, taking positions along the sides, standing guard with their automatic weapons at the ready.

Sawyer remained still, a couple of feet away from one of Devita's men.

When two suits came back out of the building, the driver of the middle SUV got out and walked around to the rear of the vehicle. He opened the door and held it while a man Sawyer recognized as Carmelo Devita stepped out, followed by another man—the one who'd been talking to Ramirez when Ramirez was shot in the street.

Sawyer's fists clenched. He didn't dare say a word into the mic, not with Devita's men so close. All he could do now was watch and wait for Devita to leave and take the tracking device with him. Preferably leaving the women behind.

Just knowing the gunman who'd shot Ramirez point-blank was inside with Jenna, Carly and Natalie made Sawyer's insides bunch.

His instincts were telling him this operation was a very bad idea.

* * *

J
ENNA
, C
ARLY
AND
Natalie wandered through the hotel, following the sound of music from the big-band era.

Once again, they were stopped at the entrance to the bar and asked to show their passports to one guard while the other walked around them, eyeing them from head to toe, probably searching for any bulges in their dresses indicating they were packing guns.

Jenna's pulse galloped as they passed the test and were allowed to enter the barroom.

“Bar or table?” Carly asked, leading the way.

“Bar,” Natalie replied. “I could use a drink.”

Jenna scanned the room, searching for a man fitting the images of Devita that Lance had shown them on the computer earlier. So far, only a handful of people were scattered around some of the tables. Two older couples were swing dancing to the music the band played. A young couple sat at a table holding hands and drinking frozen concoctions from tall glasses topped with little umbrellas.

Natalie leaned toward Jenna and smiled. “He's not here yet. What's your poison?”

Jenna would have preferred a light beer, but seeing as how they were at an upscale bar, she said, “A mango vodka martini.”

Carly gave her preference, and Natalie placed the order.

While they waited for their drinks, Jenna eased onto one of the bar stools, letting the slit in her skirt fall open, exposing much of her long legs, like she'd seen a seductress do in a movie.

God, she was playing way out of her league. How was she going to convince Devita she was just a woman looking for a good time when she was shaking in her stilettoes?

The bartender set their drinks on the bar and turned to fill an order for one of the waitresses.

Natalie lifted a tumbler of what appeared to be whiskey into the air. “To good friends.”

Carly lifted her chocolate martini, and all three women touched the rims of their glasses.

“To friends,” Jenna said and drank a healthy swallow of alcohol, hoping it would calm her nerves without dulling them.

Before she could set her glass on the counter, four men entered the bar carrying guns and made a sweep of the entire room. Two of them stepped behind the bar and slipped into the storeroom beyond.

The bartender continued to mix drinks, acting as though the invasion was nothing out of the ordinary.

When the four men were satisfied, two left. The two remaining arranged tables and chairs at the back of the room to seat eight people.

A few minutes later, four guards entered with six men walking between them. The man in the middle walked with the air of someone who owned the place. Even in the dim lighting, Jenna could make out the arrogant features of Carmelo Devita, kingpin of the local drug cartel.

A shiver rippled down her spine. She turned toward Carly and Natalie, away from Devita, but watched him out of the corner of her eye.

“Let the party begin,” she muttered beneath her breath and lifted her glass again to take a sip of the martini.

Natalie nodded, acknowledging she'd seen Devita, as well.

“So what is it you do, Jenna?” Natalie asked.

“I'm an accountant.”

Natalie's lips turned up in a smile. “That's a tough job.”

Jenna snorted softly. “I wouldn't say that. Actually, I'd say it's pretty boring.”

“I used to have a desk job and worked near the nation's capital.”

“What made you change careers?”

Natalie shrugged. “I got into my hobby and made a career out of it.”

“What hobby?”

She lowered her voice and gave Jenna a crooked grin. “Marksmanship.”

Carly lifted her glass to her lips and smiled. “Too bad we had to come in unarmed,” she said, barely moving her mouth. She took a sip and set her glass on the bar.

Sitting sideways on the bar stool, Jenna could see the bartender quickly making a tray of drinks. A pretty, dark-haired, brown-eyed waitress stood at the counter, glancing nervously over her shoulder at the man and his henchmen sitting in the corner.

Finally the bartender nodded, and the waitress lifted the tray of drinks and hurried toward the drug lord.

After setting the drinks on the table, she lifted her empty tray and beat it back to the bar.

Devita lifted a tumbler of something that appeared to be whiskey to his lips and drank the entire glass in one gulp. Carefully setting the tumbler on the table, he scanned the room, his head turning as he observed every person, his gaze lingering on Jenna, Natalie and Carly.

Jenna's chest tightened. She couldn't let fear get the better of her. They were there to tag Devita with a tracking device. She lifted her martini glass and turned toward the dance floor, giving Devita the full impact of the ultralow back of her dress and the leg peeking out to the side of the slit. She drank another sip and set her glass on the bar.

She didn't know if he preferred blondes, brunettes or redheads. They had all three covered. He'd have his choice.

“Look out. Here comes our target,” Natalie whispered, her head turned toward the dance floor but observing Devita in her peripheral vision.

“He's got his eye on Jenna,” Carly said. “Pass the chip.”

Natalie pretended to adjust the low-cut neckline of her dress, all the while slipping her fingers into the hidden pocket. She set the tiny disk on the bar and lifted her tumbler all in one smooth movement.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jenna could see Devita headed toward them, a man on each side, armed and wickedly dangerous.

Her heart thundering in her chest, Jenna reached for her martini, scooping up the disk before wrapping her fingers around the stem of her glass.

She smiled at the couples on the floor. “They're quite good,” she remarked, though she couldn't have cared less about how well anyone in the room could dance.

A royal blue dress caught Jenna's attention, and she stared across the floor at Becca Smith sitting alone at a table at the far end of the barroom. What was she doing there alone? Before Jenna could comment, a hand touched her arm.

“Senorita, would you care to dance?” a heavily accented voice asked beside her.

Jenna turned toward Carmelo Devita, drug lord, human trafficker and killer, and shot him the best fake smile she could manage. “Me?” She touched her hand to her chest, the chip tucked beneath her thumb.

He nodded.

She batted her eyes and tried for shy when it was stark terror racing through her. “Oh, I don't know.”

“Please,” he said. “It would give me great pleasure,
mi armor
.”

Jenna glanced at the other two.

Natalie nodded. “I'll save your seat at the bar. Go. Have fun.”

With a smile at the two women, Jenna laid her hand in Devita's and slipped down from the stool. “Thank you. I love to dance.”

Devita's hand was warm and slightly damp from perspiration. He took her hand in his and placed the other at the small of her back, the damp, clammy feeling making Jenna want to shake him off and tell him to get lost. Instead, she tolerated his hand on her bare skin and walked out to the dance floor, the chip in the hand Devita wasn't holding. Her mind raced ahead to form a plan to get the disk from her fingers into one of his pockets without being too obvious and alerting him to the fact that he was being bugged.

The band changed music from a swing dance to a slow-moving waltz.

Devita swept her into his arms and whirled her onto the dance floor.

Jenna wasn't expecting a ruthless killer to be so adept at dancing. Careful not to drop the disk, she rested her left hand on his shoulder. This was going to be harder than she'd thought. She had to get her hand down to the pocket at his side to drop the disk into it. Or transfer the disk to her right hand and slip it into his left breast pocket. Since he held her right hand, that wasn't an option. She'd have to manage to slip the disk in when she dropped her hands after the dance.

Completely focused on the mechanics of getting the disk into his pocket, Jenna didn't realize Devita was asking her a question until he repeated it.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I must have been concentrating too hard on the dance steps.” She forced herself to smile up at him. “What is it you were saying?”

“You are an American?”

“Yes, I am.”

“In what state do you live?”

“Louisiana.” She blinked and acted the young, ditzy woman. “Surely you've heard of New Orleans?”

“
Sí
, senorita. I have heard of the city. You are a very beautiful woman. Not many Mexican senoritas are blessed with such vibrant hair.”

She laughed, the sound breathy and tight. “My mother had red hair.”

“She must be a very beautiful woman to have a daughter such as you.”

Her chest squeezed tight. Her mother had once been the center of her universe. “Sadly, she passed away when I was a young girl.” What would she think about her daughter playing the role of covert operative?

Devita slowed. “My apologies for mentioning her.”

“Oh, it's all right.” Jenna forced a smile. “It was a long time ago.”

He swung her away and back into his arms.