Uncaged Love, page 15
“We’ll both enjoy it more this way.”
For the next three hours, Harper’s body oscillated between a mindless state of pleasure and very short recovery naps. She and Rafe couldn’t seem to get enough of each other.
Then Rafe’s cell phone rang.
Chapter 17
“Melina, are you all right?” Rafe asked, troubled after he’d checked the caller ID. At the mention of his handler’s name, Harper stiffened against him. He soothed her with long strokes from the crown of her sweaty hair over one sturdy shoulder and then curving her bare hip to cup her gorgeous tight butt.
Although he was concerned about the safety of the woman on the phone, he was more interested in the naked woman lying in bed with him. The past few hours had been beyond wonderful. She was so responsive to his touch, as if they’d been lovers for years. She drove him beyond the point of control, and still he wanted more from her. No other woman had made him desire her so much, or so often.
“Rafe. They’re looking for Harper.” The urgency in Melina’s voice was unmistakable.
He sat up straight in the huge four-poster bed. “Who is?” he shot back then leaned toward Harper when she sat up alongside him. He tilted the phone so she could hear.
“Solis had her checked out after their encounter. His men know she is an explosives expert and have decided it had to be her.”
Rafe’s heart sank all the way to his groin as his balls drew tight against his body.
Solis’s men are coming for her, and I’m naked with my gun ten feet away.
“Fuck!” was all he said as he jumped out of bed and headed for his weapons and clothes. He covered the phone with his hand. “Get dressed.”
Harper leaped from the bed and ran to her room.
“You need to leave, now,” Melina urged. “They know you’re Carlos’s Segundo and they can get into La Comunidad. Hurry. Come to my place. I’ll do what I can to get you out.”
Rafe dressed as he listened to his handler. “We’re on our way.”
Buttoning his black camouflage shirt, he entered the living area of the suite. Harper sat on the couch in blue jogging clothes while she tied navy running shoes. Even though she had a dark tan, her long legs were exposed to her barely covered butt, and the tank top left much of her shoulders and all of her arms uncovered.
“Don’t you have anything else to wear?” Rafe sat beside her and tied his boots. “Your skin will show up at night.”
“No. Fuckin’ Narváez gave me white capris pants, a yellow tank top, and brightly colored skirts and blouses. Thank God I slipped these into the suitcase he had packed for me.” She’d given this a lot of thought and understood their need to run without him even telling her the details. They were already on the same page. Good.
Rafe went back to his room and grabbed a dark brown T-shirt and black sweatpants. He tossed them to her as he slipped into his shoulder rig and checked his gun. By the time he glanced back, she was dressed in his clothes. She’d tied the excess shirt with a knot at her trim waist and rolled the sweats to fit the curves he’d memorized in the past few hours. Damn, he wanted her again, and he started to grow hard as his gaze raked her body.
Her eyes zeroed in on his gun. “I’m not leaving here until Narváez is dead.”
“Babe, we gotta get outta here, now.” He heard the elongated vowels of his Southern upbringing and realized he’d spoken more English in the past two days than he had in years. That could be a good thing since he was headed home. Right now. Elation, he hadn’t dared think about, bubbled up.
“Goddamn it, Rafe.” Fury laced every word. “The bastard kidnapped me. He made me kill Solis for him, and we wouldn’t be running if he hadn’t. He’s sanctioned. I have the opportunity to fulfill that order. Give me your gun.”
She was now badass ATF Special Agent Tambini, no longer Harper, the warm, loving woman who had fucked him blind four times in the past few hours.
Fisting her hands on her small hips, she narrowed her eyes. “Rafe, if you don’t give me your gun, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”
Christ. He didn’t want her to do that. She might get hurt in the process. But Narváez’s had to die. Now.
Rafe took a deep breath and steeled his soul. “He’s mine.” Memories of the poor old man Carlos had nearly beaten to death in the processing plant popped to the forefront. The over-painted faces of the house whores he knew Carlos abused all times of the day and night floated past on a mental screen. Out of all the atrocities the man had committed, the kidnapping of Harper and the look of dread on her face when told she had to make Chaz held for several seconds.
He would kill Narváez for that alone. Rafe reached under the bloused pant leg just above his right ankle and removed a small Glock 26.
“It’s hot. Cover me,” he said.
She ejected the magazine and checked that it was full as he dug out the extra clips. She took them and slid them into her cleavage, the only place to secure them given her loose pocketless clothing.
“Thank you.” To his surprise, she leaned in and brushed a kiss on his lips. “I’ve got your back.”
Rafe strode toward the door, but before he reached for the knob, he turned around and pulled her in for a quick, but deep, kiss. He needed the reassurance as she kissed him back with equal desire. He was doing this for her on so many levels.
Harper smiled at him with warmth and a hint of promise. In the next breath, Special Agent Tambini was back, fixated on the mission as she nodded toward the door.
He took her hand and strode boldly down the wide marble hallway, acutely aware of his surroundings and on the lookout for Solis’ sicarios.
There were no hidden cameras here. No one would dare video the comings and goings at La Comunidad. If anyone saw them, they knew him as Narváez’s Segundo, higher ranking than any lugartenientes in the cartel. At the corners, though, he stopped and peered around cautiously.
When they reached Narváez’s door, Rafe turned the knob slowly and was surprised to find it opened. His friend had obviously been too drunk to remember to lock it, or he’d felt secure enough in the private suite to forego basic security measures.
Sparse forty-watt wall sconces barely lit the halls, so very little light followed them into the living area. It was larger than the one he and Harper shared. The LED nightlight in the kitchen at the far end cast the great room in a bluish-purple hue, which allowed them to see a fully set dining table, a living room with a fireplace, and the open door to the only bedroom.
Rafe gave them a full thirty seconds for their eyes to adjust after silently closing the outer door.
Light snoring accompanied thick grunts and snuffles, another side effect of snorting cocaine. Rafe grabbed a small, fringed pillow from the dark couch to muffle the shot. He assumed a shooter’s stance, feet spread shoulder-length apart, knees bent, weight forward on the balls of his feet, ready to move in any direction as needed. He looked down the sights of his Kimber 1911 at Narváez. This part was muscle memory from years of training.
While in the SEALs he’d killed many men on three continents with bare hands, knives, bombs, rifles, and pistols. Sometimes it was fast. Other times he’d sat patiently behind a sniper rifle for hours. They were all merely targets assigned to him by someone higher up the chain of command. He had no connection with them other than through the kill.
His friend’s familiar smell reached his nose and Rafe’s stomach turned over. What the hell was he doing? A clear picture of their stark VMI dorm room flashed across his brain. Small single beds, covered in wool blankets tucked so tight a quarter would bounce, shoved against opposite gray block walls. Cadet uniforms hung neatly in golden oak built-in closets with cabinets above, and drawers underneath covered the entire wall on either side of the solid door. Matching desks sat against square pipe footboards that had seen better days three decades ago. There, face to face, at all times of day and night, the idealistic young men had planned to make Colombia a better place to live for all its people. Hours of idealistic debates, years of working the land….and it had all come to this.
Rafe realigned the sights on Carlos’s head fifteen feet away.
What had happened to that good man? Drugs had corrupted his ethics and his mind. He’d become a stranger.
Through blurred eyes, Rafe refocused over the barrel of the flat black gun and slowly pulled the trigger back.
* * * *
Harper knew all too well what mental state one had to be in to shoot a person in cold blood. She’d wondered if Rafe could actually pull the trigger. There was a fine line between hate and love.
For her, it was black and white. Narváez was sanctioned for elimination, and he’d kidnapped her. Although her prison had been an elegant one with a small degree of freedom, he’d held her captive for his own purposes. He’d had his men beat the hell out of Hernandez and threatened the safety of her team. She had no doubt the next time he wanted her to cook Chaz, he’d find and torture someone else. That plainly pissed her off and was reason alone to take him out.
She heard Rafe’s fast, uncontrolled breathing as she approached the open door to the bedroom. She dared a peek into the unlit room. Rafe stood, barely inside the bedroom, gun down at his right side, pillow clutched in his left hand.
Harper stepped into the room, close behind Rafe. She placed her hand on his back before she whispered into his ear, “It’s all right. I’ll take care of it. We need to go, now.”
Narváez stirred, rolled to his back, then seemed to settle.
In the faint blue light, she saw tears glistening in Rafe’s eyes. She understood his mixed emotions and, on tippy toes, gently kissed his cheek. “Cover me. We’ve got to get out of here.” She grabbed the pillow from him as he turned and walked silently into the other room.
She raised her gun, pillow over the muzzle.
Narváez sat upright in the bed, the gun in his hand pointed at her. Harper didn’t hesitate. Her two shots took less than a second. She double-tapped Narváez, putting one bullet in his head and one in the heart, but not before Narváez had gotten off a shot. It had gone wide, splintering the doorjamb.
Harper turned quickly to run and looked into the end of Rafe’s barrel. She raised her eyes to his and knew he would pull the trigger without hesitation.
Bunny’s shrill scream cut through the dark room.
“Put the gun down, Bunny. I don’t want to shoot you.” Rafe’s voice was steady and clear.
Oh shit. Harper was in his line of fire with her back to the shooter.
“You killed him, you bitch.” Bunny’s voice was so high it hurt Harper’s ears.
Harper watched Rafe’s cold blue eyes for a clue.
“I’ll kill that fucking bitch,” Bunny screeched.
“Down, Harper.” Rafe’s voice was low and authoritative.
She dove to the floor.
Two fast shots echoed in the large bedroom.
Harper glided into a kneeling shooting position and brought her gun muzzle to face Bunny. She was dead.
“Move.” Rafe grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. He practically dragged her to the suite’s door.
He was all business now. There’d be time later for him to mourn the young man who had once been his brother at heart.
When Rafe cracked the hall door, she stooped and peered though. Two men with M4s at the ready stepped off the elevator.
Rafe shut it quickly, but quietly.
“Solis’ sicarios. Jump over the balcony. Tell the gate guard they shot Carlos and Bunny. I’ll meet you on the corner two blocks east, one block north.” He grabbed her and smashed his mouth to hers. The kiss was brief, but sent an intense jolt through her body all the same.
“Hurry,” Harper begged him.
She dashed to the other side of the room, whipped the heavy drapes back, and slid open the doors. She was over the balcony railing before she heard Rafe accusing Solis’s men of murdering Narváez. Running as fast as she could, her long legs eating up the distance across the neatly mowed lawn, she reached the glass door of the guardhouse and stopped.
The guard didn’t rise as she approached so she pounded on the locked door.
“Solis’ sicarios just shot Carlos Narváez,” she screamed at the man through bulletproof glass. He simply shrugged, comfortable in his office chair, sub-machine gun propped next to the door.
“What you want me to do about it, puta? Did they get blood on you?” Then he looked at her with earnest. She saw recognition flash in his dark eyes.
The guard rose like a crouched tiger after easy prey and was through the door just as she stepped back. He grabbed her left arm and held it in a vise-like grip.
“I don’t give a shit about Narváez, but I have orders to detain you, American bitch. There’s a bounty on your head.”
She could see he was already spending the money in his miniscule brain.
They both heard the shots at the same time. When the guard looked toward the private resort, Harper took advantage of his momentary distraction, grabbed her gun from under her shirt, and shot him. In all the confusion, it’d just be one more gunshot. She removed his sidearm, which he hadn’t bothered to un-holster.
“That she’s-just-a-woman attitude can kill you,” she murmured and shoved his pistol in her sweats next to hers, grip pointed for a left-hand draw. She pulled the T-shirt over both guns.
Harper hoped Rafe was all right. She stepped over the guard who’d fallen in the doorway and pressed the button to release the personnel gate lock. In less than ten seconds, she was on the other side, headed east on the empty street.
At the end of the block, she stepped into the darkness of a deeply recessed storefront, watched La Comunidad, and listened to the street sounds of Cali. No one would call the police. The cartels ran the city, and each owned a great number of policemen. This was cartel business, and no citizen or government employee would dare interfere. Harper was more worried about Solis’s men calling for backup and if Rafe would escape before the cartel’s reinforcements arrived.
She’d give him five minutes…then she’d go back for him. She never left a team member behind.
Chapter 18
Three minutes and thirty seconds later, a male figure burst through the same small gate Harper had used and left open. Running full out, gun in hand, he looked back over his shoulder when the gate clinked shut automatically, locking their carnage inside.
It was Rafe. She knew that body, every masculine inch of it. He moved swiftly, silently, among the shadows.
She let him pass her and watched him duck into a narrow alley when a dark SUV whipped around a corner three blocks down then raced toward La Comunidad. Another vehicle followed mere yards behind. Both stopped at the closed vehicle gate. A uniformed man with a battered rifle in hand jumped out and ran to the ornate iron gate that was wide enough for two trucks to pass through.
She heard him announce that the guard was dead. He went to the personnel gate and unsuccessfully shot at the solid lock several times, the report echoing repeatedly off the three-story buildings. Someone from inside the vehicles hollered at him, and he returned to his seat. The first SUV rammed the decorative gate numerous times before its hinges broke. As both sped through the new opening, she watched taillights disappear.
Harper shook her head. Men. They all wanted a piece of the action so not one of them stayed behind to guard the gate.
My good luck they weren’t trained in the U.S.A.
She bolted from her hiding place and ran toward the alley where she’d watched Rafe disappear. Slowing only a little, she slid into the darkness between the two stucco buildings and plastered her back against the rough wall. She looked down the alley. The small space seemed to intensify the aroma of the rotting garbage in the dumpsters over-filled by the apartments above and the street-level stores and restaurants. She slowly breathed through her mouth.
“Harper?”
Not sure she’d actually heard her name, she let her peripheral vision search the alley. Maybe it was the rustling of rats hunting tonight’s supper.
“Harper.” It was barely a whisper. Closer this time.
“Rafe?” she called back.
He stepped from behind a dumpster, kicked an insolent rat out of the way, and jogged to her. His embrace was fierce. So was the kiss.
In her ear, he whispered, “You’re supposed to be three blocks away.”
“I couldn’t leave without knowing you were okay.”
He kissed her cheek and held her for another few seconds. They both needed it. They stepped away at the same time.
“Come on, we’re too close. We need to get to Melina’s place on the other side of the city.” He took Harper’s hand, and they trotted down the alley.
They zigzagged down silent streets that would remain asleep for several more hours before shop gates rattled open to the new day. Through hushed neighborhoods of twenty-story apartment complexes, completely trusting in him. For over a mile they slinked through the city, traveling basically northeast toward the airport and the Cauca River. They didn’t speak.
From half a block away, lights shone brightly ahead, partially illuminating the neighborhood street. The muffled sounds of cars and people filled the air. Keeping to the darkest shadows as they approached the corner, Rafe stopped short. Plastered against a tall stucco structure, they listened for footsteps on the adjacent sidewalk. When they heard nothing, they both peered around the edge of the building. The street was lit as bright as day and had just ruined her night vision.
“It’s the InterContinental Hotel. I can get a cab there. We’ll attract too much attention together. Go to the end of this block and turn right. I’ll have the cabbie pick you up at the far corner. Be ready to jump in.” He gave her a quick peck, and her heart jumped. His light touch was all it took to set her aflame. Yeah, it might have been the adrenalin that flowed like a flooded river through her veins, but Harper knew it was the man. He was protecting her.
“And this time, do as you’re told.” The seriousness in his voice matched the expression in his dark blue eyes. She didn’t like taking orders, but she’d make an exception just this once.
