Seduction Under Fire (10 page)

* * *

The streets of La Paz bustled with activity now that the heat of the day had given way to a temperate evening. Aaron pulled his newly purchased ball cap low over his eyes and emerged from a corner market, his other purchases in hand. He ducked onto a quiet side street packed with towering, narrow houses and sat curbside in the shadow of a parked car.

He ripped the plastic covering from one of the two prepaid cell phones as he organized his thoughts. If he played this next conversation perfectly, he’d have ICE’s considerable resources at his disposal for the duration of his and Camille’s mission in Mexico. Play it wrong and not only would Thomas Dreyer likely demand their return to the U.S., as had been the original plan, but Aaron would jeopardize his future career.

At issue was Aaron’s absolute certainty that Camille wouldn’t leave Mexico without Rosalia Perez. And Aaron would never leave Camille to fight on her own. Short of being dragged away in a body bag, he’d have her back for as long as their mission took to complete—even if that meant disobeying a direct order from his superior.

He dialed Thomas Dreyer’s personal number. He picked up on the second ring.

“Dreyer here.”

“This is Montgomery.”

“Did you and Fisher make it to La Paz?”

“We did, sir.”

“Excellent. Arrangements have been confirmed for you two to hitch a ride to San Diego with a naval ship headed up the Pacific from South America.”

Aaron screwed his mouth up.
Let the chess match begin.
“Fisher and I performed reconnaissance yesterday on the cartel compound where we were held. It had been vacated. We have no idea where Rosalia Perez was taken, sir.”

Dreyer was silent for a beat. “Not surprising, given your escape. Not that the cartel is admitting to anything. They’re demanding the prisoners’ release in exchange for your freedom, and we’ve decided to let them go on believing they have the edge while we put the pieces in place for the girl’s recovery. ICE received the San Diego Police Department’s blessing to handle the case, but our hands are tied at this point because the girl’s citizenship has been brought into question. Mexican officials are pushing to handle the rescue themselves.”

“Sounds like a political stunt.”

“Roger that. If diplomacy fails, we’ve got a black ops team on standby in Mexico City.”

“Who’s leading the unit?” Aaron asked.

“Diego Santero.”

Damn. He’d never met the guy in person, but by all accounts, he was a surly jackass of the first degree. Too bad he was also the best ICE black ops field agent in the world. When Aaron first set his sights on becoming a field agent, his motivation was to surpass the bar Santero had set.

He took a fortifying breath and hoped luck was on his side once more. Maybe he could turn his kidnapping into another golden ticket, one that led to his dream job with ICE. “If I can get a lead on Rosalia Perez’s whereabouts, I want to be part of Santero’s team for her extraction.”

“Come again?”

“Officer Fisher and I are already in La Paz. We’ve had visual contact with Rosalia Perez and have a better chance than anyone of pinpointing where she’s been taken. When I pass that intel on to ICE, I want to help with her rescue. I’ve trained for it—you know I have. I’m going to prove to you that I’m ICE agent material.” He clamped his molars together, reeling at the note of desperation in his tone.

After a slow inhale, he tried again. “Think about it, sir. If Officer Fisher and I return to the States, we’ll go into Witness Protection. We won’t be doing anybody any good. If we stay in La Paz—where nobody, including the Mexican government, knows we are—we could make some real headway for ICE, not only with data on the cartel, but with a high-profile rescue. The intel I’ve already gathered about the cartel’s smuggling operation alone will bump our unit to the best in the nation, guaranteed. This is our moment, sir. The opportunity our team’s been waiting for.”
That I’ve been waiting for.

A long silence followed. “You’re up for the challenge, Montgomery?”

“Absolutely.”

“And Fisher, does she have the chops for this?”

“Fisher is former Special Forces. She was assigned to the Rosalia kidnapping case originally. With all due respect, sir, I don’t think she’d leave Mexico without the girl if the President himself commanded her to.”

Dreyer sighed and Aaron knew he’d won. “What do you need from me?”

“Time.”

“Keep me in the loop, Montgomery. I’m putting my reputation on the line for you. Consider this your big audition. Don’t screw it up.”

“I won’t, sir. Thank you.”

After the call ended, Aaron sat for a long time, staring at his hands. The conversation had gone exactly as he’d hoped. Yet still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that for the first time ever, his golden ticket hadn’t presented him with a great opportunity, but with a hangman’s noose.

* * *

Aaron returned over an hour later, acting as though nothing was amiss. Camille opened her mouth to press him for details about where he’d gone, but all that came out was a yawn.

“Let me show you your bed.” Ana walked to the sofa and removed its cushions. “My first apartment was a loft without enough space for both a sofa and a bed, so my parents bought me this.”

She tugged on a loop of material at the center of the sofa and out popped a collapsible mattress. The three of them made the bed with sheets and a blanket.

Camille stroked the pillow nearest her. “I’m tired just looking at it. I can’t wait to sprawl.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “On your side, of course.”

“What? You and I aren’t sharing a bed.”

He looked at her as though she was crazy. “We escaped from a drug cartel and you’re worried about sharing a bed with me?”

“Aaron, you’re welcome to sleep with me,” Ana purred. “My bed would accommodate both of us beautifully.”

Camille huffed. “You’re right, Aaron—I don’t care what the sleeping arrangements are. Sleep with Ana or sleep on the sofa bed. Whatever.”

Ana had that annoying smirk on her face again. “I’m going to retire to my room. If you two need anything, let me know.”

Camille watched the bedroom door close behind Ana, then crawled between the sheets.

Aaron stood on the opposite side with his arms crossed over his chest, watching her. It was damned disconcerting. Ana had loaned her pajamas, but under Aaron’s gaze, she felt positively naked. She snapped the sheet over herself, a warning for him to mind his p’s and q’s.

As though he’d been waiting for Camille’s undivided attention, he squared his body to the bed and tugged his shirt over his head. As if he wanted her to swoon over his rippling muscles and perfect physique.

Oh, please. What a jerk.

“I’m not sharing a bed with you if you’re half-naked.” She tried to modulate her voice, but still, it cracked once.

“We’re going to be living in pretty close quarters for a while, so you’d better get used to the sight of me.” Grinning broadly, he dropped his pants to the floor and stood with his hands on his hip bones in a pair of flimsy red cotton boxer-briefs.

Camille squeaked and scurried out of the bed. “Jesus, Aaron, put your pants back on.”

“Worried I’m going to attack you while you sleep?”

“You already kissed me against my will. How should I know what you’re capable of?”

“I can say with one hundred percent certainty that when we kissed, it was not against your will. Look, I told you it wouldn’t happen again and I’m a man of my word. Any other promises you want me to make before we get in bed together?”

“Do you have to put it that way?”

“I think it has a nice ring to it.”

“Promise you won’t touch me.”

He threw up his hands. “Oh, geez, Cam. I’m not a perv. I don’t go around copping feels on frightened women.”

“I’m not frightened.” Especially not of some idiot who didn’t have the decency to keep covered.

“Then why are you hiding behind that sheet?”

Camille looked to find her hands clutching the top sheet to her chest, nearly pulling it off the bed. She let go and straightened. She’d show him how not-frightened she was. “Say it.”

Aaron yanked the sheets in his direction and fell into bed. The mattress groaned with the additional weight. “I promise not to grope you. Now stop yapping and get in bed.”

With narrowed eyes, she lay back. She folded her hands over her stomach but found it uncomfortable, so she moved them to her sides. First above the covers, which was too chilly, and then below. She refluffed her pillow, flopped down and folded her hands across her chest. Aaron watched her with lazy eyes.

“How about I lie on my side and you can pretend I’m a wall?”

He turned his back to her and clicked off the floor lamp. Too much light streamed in from the streetlamp outside the window. Camille studied the taper of Aaron’s wide shoulders to his trim waist. One thing was for sure—Aaron Montgomery could never be mistaken for a wall.

* * *

He knew Camille was tired. She’d gotten as little sleep as he had over the past few days. On the drive to La Paz, he’d seen the slump of her shoulders and the dark circles under her eyes. Yet Aaron felt those same eyes boring holes into his back long after he turned out the light.

After a while, Camille yawned quietly and shifted. Aaron squelched the urge to command her to close her eyes. Instead, he tried a more diplomatic approach.

“Camille, I can’t get my mind to stop thinking about kidnappings and guns and murder. Do you mind if we talk a little to help me unwind?”

“Talk about what?”

He scrambled for a neutral topic. “What’s your favorite holiday?”

“Are you kidding?”

“No. It would be nice to think about something happy.”

She was quiet for so long that he didn’t think she’d answer. “Christmas,” she blurted. “My favorite holiday is Christmas.”

Aaron smiled, triumphant. “What makes it your favorite?”

“My sister and Jacob stay overnight at our parents’ house. I don’t get to see Juliana much now that she’s married, so that’s really nice. On Christmas morning, she does this big production of handing out silly gifts that make us laugh.”

He heard the joy in Camille’s words and wanted desperately to look at her but was afraid if he did, she’d clam up. “My mom makes this huge, elaborate meal and won’t let us help. No matter what time she says dinner’s at, it’s always two hours late. Does your mom cook dinner?”

“We do it together. We make a turkey and a couple sides in the morning and nibble all day long. We never even sit at the dinner table. It’s just...fun, relaxing. Next year’ll be even better with little Alana for us to spoil.”

Her voice drifted off. “Mmm,” she added after a few quiet minutes.

It was a hum of contentment that rendered Aaron powerless to resist a peek. Careful not to shake the bed too much, he rolled over.

The light from the window slashed across the top of her head, illuminating her golden hair. She was asleep on her side facing him, with her hands on the pillow next to her cheek and a smile on her lips, totally peaceful.

Breathtaking.

He stared for a long time. She looked small, angelic. This warrior who was so strong and capable, so ready to battle the world when she was awake, was still a woman when she slept. A beautiful, complicated woman.

He raised the sheet to cover her shoulder. Her nose wrinkled and he was tempted to kiss it until he remembered his promise. Well, Camille hadn’t said anything about invading her personal space. Satisfied to have found a loophole, he moved his pillow to abut hers and nestled in. He covered her hand with his, curling his fingers until they reached her palm. With the steady rhythm of her breath on his cheek, Aaron closed his eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

Camille woke after dawn in Ana’s sofa bed. Ready to fight the bad guys. One problem—she couldn’t move.

Aaron had her pinned. He was asleep on his side, with his face so close that she had to pull back to keep from brushing his nose, and his arm and leg slung over her body.

“Aaron?” She pushed against his chest. “Aaron.”

His eyes opened. “Good morning, Blondie.”

She considered calling him on the use of that god-awful nickname, but first things first. “Get off me.”

“I’m too comfortable to move.”

“You promised not to touch me.”

“I promised not to grope you. This is different. This is snuggling.” He closed his eyes again.

“My foot’s asleep and I have to use the bathroom. Get off or I’ll make you.”

“Fine,” he said melodramatically.

Once free, Camille was flustered to discover that she, too, had been quite comfortable tangled up in bed with Aaron. She’d have to make sure it never happened again.

Sarah arrived less than an hour later to pick Ana up for work. Aaron locked the door after ushering the teachers out, then pulled two disposable cell phones from a paper bag. “I bought these last night and programmed each with three numbers—each other, Ana and Thomas Dreyer, my boss. I touched base with him last night and he’s offering us ICE’s full support.”

“That’s fantastic.” She held out her hand for the phone, but he stared at her as if something was bothering him. “What?”

“I’ve got a really bad feeling about splitting up today. Maybe we should scrap the plan and stick together. You could come with me to find a place for us to stay and some wheels, and I could shop for supplies with you tonight.”

Camille snatched the phone from his hand and pocketed it along with Ana’s car keys. “Nothing’s going to happen. The supermarket and clothing shops are only a mile or so away. Don’t worry so much. I’m a cop, remember? You have to stop treating me like a civilian. Besides, the faster we get everything we need, the sooner we can get on with finding Rosalia.”

Aaron took hold of Camille’s elbows and looked so seriously into her eyes, the skin on the back of her neck tingled.

“We meet here tonight at five o’clock,” he said. “If something happens to me, if I don’t come back, you call Dreyer. He’ll get you out of Mexico by boat. The roads are too dangerous. There are armed checkpoints all along the highway to California. You don’t want to get caught with a gun and you can’t take the chance of coming across any crooked military types on the cartel’s payroll. And don’t try to be a hero by searching for Rosalia on your own. It’s too risky. Promise me.”