Uncaged Love, page 4
The heat of every breath she exhaled covered him in a soothing balm. She’d fallen asleep, this time restful.
Why did Carlos need her so much he was willing to risk everything to kidnap her? A woman on an international ATF team was unusual, and thus more valuable to the U.S. government. Did Carlos intend to hold her for ransom? And why was she there to begin with? Columbia was not known for its tobacco or alcohol production, and guns most often came into the country rather than being exported out.
As he gazed at her soft face, perfectly arched eyebrows and long lashes that created gentle curves under her eyes, he wondered what a woman like her was doing in a violent country like this.
Rafe replayed the hangar scene and paid attention to every word. Carlos had called her Miss Harper Tambini. Miss. Rafe didn’t know why her unmarried status pleased him. He hoped Carlos was right. She didn’t wear any rings, but he’d look more carefully for an indentation on her left hand. He didn’t want to lift the covers and disturb her beauty sleep—not that she wasn’t beautiful enough—because she was exhausted.
How did Carlos know her name? Who had he been talking with lately? And why hadn’t he shared this information with me?
Damn it. Rafe was the second in charge of the entire operation, including thousands of acres of farming, cocaine production, and transportation, as well as the private army that protected everything Carlos held important.
Harper rolled and placed her left hand on his chest as she tucked herself closer to him. No ring had circled her finger long enough to leave permanent depressions.
He smiled.
The awareness of her he’d tried to ignore since they grabbed her in Bogotá nudged something deep inside him. No woman had affected him this way in years. He could spend hours dining and dancing with the most beautiful women in Colombia, but he’d never felt as strong an interest for any of them as he did for this stranger.
Beth had stirred him this way the first time she’d walked past him, totally concentrating on her next high board dive. Swim team bathing suits hid nothing, and hers had clung to every curve of her luscious body like a second skin. She hadn’t even noticed him. But he’d sure as hell noticed her.
Goddamn, how he missed her.
Rafe stretched cramped muscles in his arm then cupped the back of his head. Maybe he was attracted to Harper because they were lying in bed and it had been far too long since he’d had a woman. Yes, lack of sex had to be why.
His gaze traveled from her dark hair to her high forehead. Someone had once told him that was a sign of intelligence. She had to be smart to become a U.S. federal agent. A bachelor’s degree was the minimum requirement.
He mentally traced each gently arched eyebrow. Even with her eyes closed, he felt the power of them. Large, oval-shaped Bambi eyes and the longest black eyelashes he’d ever seen. Their shadows hadn’t darkened the hollow place above her high cheekbones, lack of sleep and dehydration was the cause. He had to be sure she drank the next time she awoke, but not so much it would upset her stomach again.
She had a small nose that turned up ever so slightly at the end. Her lips pouted in sleep. They were pale right now, but he could imagine them reddened and even fuller from his kisses. He could also imagine them doing hundreds of things to his body. His erection pulsed.
Her hair fell over surprisingly muscled shoulders, and he suspected she could do as many pull-ups as most of his sicarios. Although her arms were tucked in close to her body once again, he could see her rounded breasts and almost picture them tipped with dark brown nipples. Damn how he wanted to taste them, take them into his mouth and savor them, make her demand more and give her everything she wanted.
But would she want anything from him? Would she accept his touch?
Stop that. She was sick, and he was there to protect her.
Rafe brushed away an errant strand from her darkly tanned face, and she sighed as his fingers found their way slowly down her jaw to a slightly pointed chin. Her cheeks were tinged pink from the receding fever. She was gorgeous even when she was sick. The image of this attractive woman, content in his arms, seared into his brain.
He wished he knew more about her.
Fucking Carlos. What’s his plan? Did he intend to kill her after he’d used her? And exactly what skills had he referred to? And why hadn’t Rafe been brought in on this plan?
Since they’d been roommates at VMI, they’d discussed everything, like the brothers neither of them had. They’d talk for hours about their shared dreams of improving Colombia’s economy and helping the people with legitimate agriculture while not letting it become a Communist country like most of South America. Those pipe dreams had all disappeared in the last few years, along with his respect for Carlos which decreased with every white line his old friend sniffed.
Rafe closed his eyes in disgust and matched the breathing of the mysterious woman who lay pushed against him. He fell asleep with her warm breath on his neck and her hand resting gently over his heart.
Chapter 5
Harper roused from the depths of sleep, gently this time. Her nausea had receded in the previous hours. With only glimpses of her surroundings as she’d been helped into a bathroom, she wasn’t sure where she was, but she knew she wasn’t alone.
She snaked her hand cautiously over the bedspread. The man was gone. Maybe he’d never been there. Maybe he hadn’t been real. Drugs could make the mind believe weird things. Hell, in the depths of Colombia, she’d thought she heard him speak Southern-accented English.
There had been a limousine, she was pretty sure.
A helicopter? She wasn’t confident about that memory. It might have been from the mission. She was sure her team had flown through mountains in a chopper.
Someone had carried her, at least once. No, at least twice. A castle. She shuddered as she remembered large hands holding her body while small ones stripped off her clothes.
Someone had forced her to sip water beside the road. Blue Eyes was to thank for the small kindness.
In the bathroom, it had been a small gray mouse of a girl.
In the bed, oh God, he’d been in bed with her. Had he… No. She was sure he hadn’t raped her.
With an audible sigh, she rolled onto her side. Sleep. She needed more sleep.
There had been so much sweat pouring out of her body she’d used the sheet to wipe her face, and then someone with a cool, wet cloth had delicately washed her face. Small hands, like a child’s.
And Blue Eyes, again, concerned and gentle in his touch. With the memory came a sense of security.
That’s just fucking weird. Had to be a hallucination.
She took a deep breath. This time she felt better. She hoped her body had purged the majority of the poison. A warm breeze bathed her face and brought with it moisture and the unique smell of salted air. The ocean, she concluded. As she forced air to the bottom of her lungs, she rolled to her other side. No nausea, finally.
At some point they’d untied her. When, Harper had no idea.
It would be best if they thought she was still asleep, so she barely cracked her eyelids and discovered the sun reflected on an ocean. The dark yellow circle had slipped a fraction beneath the blue water horizon. Okay, she faced west, and the sun was setting on the Pacific Ocean. She marveled for a moment about how Colombia was one of the few countries in the world with two ocean coasts only a hundred miles apart. She estimated they had traveled over two hundred miles from Bogotá. At least it was warm there.
Army torture training had taught her the best way to force any toxic from her system was through a strenuous workout, but first she needed water then food. She couldn’t remember when she’d eaten last. Her muscles would start to cramp if she didn’t get some electrolytes soon.
Driving oxygen progressively deeper into her lungs, Harper began to systematically stretch her muscles. The unique scent of roses drifted over her with a cooling ocean breeze. Raising her eyelids a fraction of an inch more, she discovered fresh flowers in a cut crystal vase filled with a rainbow of roses and fragrant greens on her bedside table.
Really? Somebody put flowers in my room?
Well, she had been sick. The gesture struck her as oddly civil.
She heard a quiet, twittering voice call to her in rapid Spanish. “Miss. Miss. You are waking up now? Are you sick again?”
“No,” Harper croaked. “Hungry.” She hoped she’d replied in a Spanish dialect the young woman understood. The Puerto Rican Spanish she’d learned as a child was a little different from the Colombian dialect, but over the past few weeks, she’d assimilated the verbiage and colloquialisms.
Wooden chair legs scraped against tile before the scurrying sound of soft shoes faded. From what seemed so very far away, she heard a bird-high voice calling for Segundo. Maybe he could her find some food and something cold to drink.
Harper sat up in bed and swung her legs over the side. So far, so good. She gave her stomach a moment to be sure it was settled. As she shifted her feet closer to the floor, very soft lace brushed against her bare breasts like a lover’s caress. She looked down at the satin negligee in deep gold. She wondered who’d put this on her, although as sick as she’d been, she didn’t really care. If it had been Segundo, she hoped he’d enjoyed the thrill of her naked body because he’d never get the chance to see it again. She’d break his neck before she’d let him touch her.
She stood, walked carefully on unsteady legs to the misty sheer curtains hanging from ceiling rods at the edge of the open-air bedroom. A live postcard spread out below.
A golden sun washed the world in peach tones, warming the white stucco walls of her room. Ocean waves crashed on jagged rock spires before they frothed onto a small sandy curve of beach. Down the steep mountain, workers in woven straw hats continued to pick in green sentinel rows. At the far reaches of her view, evenly spaced banana trees blocked her gaze, but deep green mountains loomed above the tall fronds. High stucco walls surrounded the large house and also encompassed several one-story buildings with many doors giving it the appearance of a worn 1950s beach motel. The compound had been built in terraces, like so many in mountainous areas of the world. Harper’s room was several levels up, so she had a bird’s eye view of what looked to her like a huge agricultural operation.
Breathing deeply, she was overpowered by the scent of flowers again. She stepped through the gauzy curtains that kept most of the bugs out and onto the balcony overlooking beautifully tended gardens. Roses, iris, bird of paradise, hibiscus, and many plants she couldn’t identify were artfully arranged to capture each color and saturate the senses. The sweet smell lofted to her was almost too much for her tender stomach.
“Planning to jump, Harper?” Segundo’s deep voice was close.
She held in the jolt and refused to turn and look at him. She hadn’t heard him enter the room or approach. He was so close to her back his breath wisped over her nearly bare shoulder. Realizing she was scantily clothed, she crossed her arms over her breasts to conceal her hardened nipples. She was more off her game than she’d imagined.
Not planning to jump, but she had been scoping out the place to find an escape route. She was weak and had to get her strength back before she could try, so she would play along, for now.
“No, I was absorbing the view. It’s picturesque,” Harper managed in a deep, sleep-heavy voice. “Although I’m not sure where here is.”
She sensed his eyes surveying every inch of her body as he stepped beside her. The sunset had turned pastel pinks and purples. She hoped it gave her sun-browned skin a healthier glow than it deserved.
The ocean breeze brought his spicy male scent, replacing the floral mix that had lured her out of her room. She’d call it fresh, earthy, like the fields outside the walls. Not sweet like the garden below.
“You are in the Narváez Western Compound, surrounded by fruits, vegetables, flowers, and loyal sicarios who will capture you, or kill you, if you try to leave. But you are Carlos’s guest. We’ve removed the restraints and expect you to join us for supper in thirty minutes.”
Unconsciously, Harper rubbed her wrists, raw from fighting the plastic cuffs. Someone had put a salve on them, taking away the pain.
From the corner of her eye, she got a good look at Segundo in the setting sun. He was a magnificent specimen of a man, well over six feet with wavy dark hair falling beyond the collar of his button-down dress shirt. He had the kind of soft curls that begged for a woman’s fingers to rake through them. His light blue eyes with an even lighter outer circle currently seemed too serious. It had obviously been a long time since they had reflected his laughter, but the few lines fanning from their corners indicated he’d been happier in his past.
He was very handsome by anyone’s definition. Delicious, she decided. The edges of her lips curled up slightly at the thought of tasting his sun-kissed skin.
What the hell are you thinking?
This man had kidnapped her, almost killed her with his despicable drugs, and now held her captive so she could…what? Why had they taken her? Narváez had said they didn’t want her for her body. Thank God.
When the man turned his broad shoulders and stepped closer, heat surged through her entire body. It was like an uncontrollable chemical reaction she had to him. She wanted to step back, but held her place. Invasion of personal space was a common interrogation technique, one of many she’d been trained to resist. She would show no fear, although she wasn’t afraid of this man. No, she had a totally different reaction to him. And wasn’t that just the damnedest thing?
Segundo’s gaze never left her face. “You’re looking much better. I thought for a short while we might lose you. We had no idea you were allergic to the drug we used to knock you out. Shall I send the doctor in again?”
“Again?”
“Yes, he’s been here several times. He tended to you as soon as we landed and has checked on you regularly.”
Landed. So there had been a helicopter or a plane. Good. At least part of her memory was real.
“No, I’m better. I probably still have traces in my body. What I need is to go for a run or a hard work out to force the rest from my system. I don’t imagine you’re going to allow me to do either.” She stepped away from him. He was too close. Unless it was a required part of an operation, she kept her distance from all men, especially the strong, virile, and commanding kind.
“We have a gym, and you may use it at your leisure.” He said as though she should already know. “As I said, you are a guest. But your presence is required at supper.”
“If I’m a guest, then I’d like to leave immediately.” Could this all have been a nightmare? A misunderstanding?
He smiled down at her. “Certainly not. Carlos will explain everything.” His eyes looked more hopeful than confident.
He gestured for her to move back into the bedroom, where the slight teen with the tweeting voice carried a shimmering golden evening gown that sparkled under the recessed lighting in the room. She cautiously laid it on the bed before she disappeared through a doorway.
“I believe this should fit quite well. Carlos picked it out for you himself.” When the young woman reappeared, she carried a sheer lace halter bra and matching thong in one hand and gold spike heels in the other.
Segundo plucked the thong from the girl’s hand. He ran a large thumb over the small V of satin and lace. His darkened eyes ran the length of her entire body and back up before he took in her face. “I’ll be back for you in twenty-five minutes. Be dressed.” He dropped the thong on the bed and strode out of the room.
A metallic snick confirmed Harper’s fear. The door only locked from the outside. She was a prisoner, no matter Segundo’s lies.
Chapter 6
Harper needed a shower and had to wash her smelly hair. She would be alone in the shower and able to think. As she turned, the small woman handed her a bamboo tray with a glass and an unopened sweating bottle of ice-cold water next to a perfectly ripened banana. Harper cracked open the water and thanked the girl then took the tray with her into the bathroom.
Earlier, when she’d been allowed to use the facilities and brush her teeth, she hadn’t cared what the bathroom looked like. Now, feeling better by the minute, she saw a large jetted tub sunk into the floor, surrounded by colorful tropical plants. There were many shades of green with bright red flowers, some with leaves as large as a bath towel, while others were delicate ferns. A three-foot-tall bird of paradise reached out from the corner as though in greeting. A honeymoon suite in a tropical paradise came to mind. Except it was part of Harper’s jail.
The glass-fronted shower boasted two showerheads on opposing walls. Diamond-shaped tiles of white marble streaked with green were accented by its reverse; green marble with rivers of white covered every wall. Two opaque white vessel sinks sat atop sculpted green marble counters with bronzed waterfall faucets. A sculpted green vase overflowed with fresh-cut flowers filled a corner of the counter. Shocked by its classic beauty, Harper stood admiringly in the center of the large room. Okay, not a stark prison cell…a velvet cage. Nonetheless, she was still a captive bird.
The corners of Harper’s mouth kicked up. Not so long ago, her handle had been Lady Osprey during several missions in the Middle East. She wondered if USSOCOM would send her friends after her. Technically, she still worked for the United States Special Operations Command. They had temporarily assigned her to the ATF because of her work on developing Chaz.
Harper’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door just before it cracked opened six inches.
“Miss, may I draw you a bath?”
“What’s your name?” Harper asked instead of answering the question. She motioned the small girl into the room.
“My name?” The girl looks scared to death.
“Yes.” It was a simple question, and she’d asked in Spanish.
“Here, they call me Carlotta.”
Harper knew what it was like to be called something other than your given name. After her mother was murdered, she’d been forced to live with an aunt she’d never met, who insisted upon calling her Annie, a version of her real first name. Although Annabelle Harper Tambini was on her birth certificate, her mother, and everyone who knew her, had called her Harper. No shortened nickname and never her first name.
