Enemy Mine (4 page)

“Guilty as charged.” Jason sobered. “Hey, what’s this newest black ops about?”

“Oh,” Kathy lied, “same old thing. I’ve been flying Marine Corps helo support for Navy SEAL missions for over a year. This is just another one. It’s no big deal.”

She could see Jason’s concern etched on his face. He knew she’d loved Curt Shields and that he’d died in combat. Kathy hadn’t come home after that, but had buried her grief and shock in her work. No one in her family knew of the rage she carried over his death. He’d been a good man trying to right wrongs in the world. And right or wrong, she felt she could never love another man. There was only one Curt and he was gone forever.

“Usually you come home for thirty days once a year, not between missions,” Jason said, giving her a worried look. “Is there something different about this one? More dangerous? Longer time out in enemy country?”

Her stomach knotted. She and Jason were two years apart in age, and in some ways he knew her better than anyone. They’d been the ones to suffer through the kidnapping. It had bonded them in a way that few children experienced, and that tie was strong and supportive.

Lifting her hands, Kathy said, “No more dangerous than any other, Jas. I missed the twins’ graduation at Annapolis, and I knew they were coming home now, so I thought I’d do a post-grad celebration here and congratulate them.” Kathy was hoping he’d buy that explanation. She was amazed at how well she lied, and she didn’t like doing so. Seeing Jason’s worry dissolve and a grin replace it, she drew a deep breath of relief.

“Oh hey, that’s great, then. Mom is sure planning a nice shindig for them. I hear we get beef Wellington tonight for dinner, with all the trimmings.” He rubbed his hands together. “My favorite meal, and she only makes it once or twice a year.”

“That’s why you’re here so early!” Kathy exclaimed.

“Caught red-handed! And my son is already into the cookie jar!”

For the next few hours, Kathy planned to savor every moment with Jason, Annie and Alex. She had to tuck a lifetime’s worth of memories into one day. And her heart tugged with sadness as well as joy when she anticipated the twins returning home that afternoon. The house would ring with rare happiness, and Kathy was so glad to be a part of it. The perfect farewell.

S
OPHIE
T
AYLOR
L
ANGFORD
tore through the Peruvian jungle, racing just as fast as her seven-year-old legs would take her. She was barefoot, dressed in a long white nightgown. Sobbing for breath, she held her hands up to protect her face from branches as she raced down a narrow animal path outside the villa, from which she’d just escaped. The morning was drizzly, with drops of water dripping on her as she ran. The sky was a dull gray where she could see bits of it peeking through the lush, thick jungle canopy.

She heard heavy footfalls behind her. Soldiers! Oh! She had to get away! But she had no idea where she was! She’d awakened two days ago to find she’d been kidnapped, taken from her home in Lima. Frightened now, she cried out as she heard a man screaming at her in Spanish. He was so close! Lungs burning from her exertion, Sophie darted down the vine-entangled, muddy trail. She had to get away from him!

Her bare feet flew over the slippery red clay. The earth was soggy and tree roots crisscrossed the trail as if trying to trip her. Leaves of bushes slapped at her repeatedly.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!”

Fear jolted through Sophie. Having lived for two
years in Peru, she knew Spanish. She shrieked in terror and ran even harder.

Just as she rounded a turn, a huge root caught her left foot, and Sophie cried out. She flew end over end and landed at the side of the trail, nearly lost in the thick underbrush. Gasping for breath, she rolled over, her white nightgown catching between her legs as she tried to scramble up again.

“No you don’t, you little bitch!”

A man’s hand grabbed at her long, blond hair, which was now damp and coated with crimson mud. Dressed in green khakis and holding a rifle in his left hand, the soldier grabbed Sophie and hauled her out of the bushes onto the trail.

Her scalp burned as he lifted her to her feet by her hair. Sophie screamed, her hands flying to her scalp.

“You little brat!” he roared in her face. “I’m gonna kill you and get this over with. You aren’t worth kidnapping!” He shoved her to the ground again.

Sophie landed hard on her back, the wind knocked out of her. Her blue eyes grew huge as the giant soldier raised his rifle and pointed it at her heaving chest. She saw him grin. His teeth were yellow and one of the front ones was missing.

“I’ll kill you and they’ll never know the difference.” He placed his finger on the trigger.

Giving a little cry, Sophie raised her hand, vainly trying to protect herself. She saw the rage in the man’s brown eyes. What had she done to make him hate her?

Just then, she saw another man, come running up behind the soldier.

“Ernesto! No!” the man growled, and jerked the rifle upward.

Sophie screamed as the gun discharged. The sound of the shot was instantly muted, swallowed up by the thick jungle around them. She saw the white man wrestle with her captor. Who was he? With two quick movements, he disarmed the soldier and knocked him off his feet, onto the muddy path.

“W
HAT DO YOU THINK
you’re doing?” he yelled at Ernesto. Mac Coulter breathed hard. He held the Peruvian soldier’s AK-47 in his left hand as he glared down at the man. “You don’t shoot children!” he snarled. Wiping his mouth, Mac turned to the little girl, who lay on the trail. His heart pounding in his chest, he crouched down and held out his hand to her.

“Sophie, I’m Mac. Mac Coulter. I need you to reach for my hand. Can you do that? You’re safe now. Come on….” He saw the blond girl’s huge blue eyes well with tears. She was a muddy mess, her thin gold hair covered with clay. The white cotton nightgown was stained a reddish-brown color. She seemed so little compared to him. Mac stilled his rage. He couldn’t blow his cover with Carlos Garcia. Not now. But he couldn’t let these soldiers, who would rather rape and kill any female, child or adult, get hold of Garcia’s latest victim.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly, hearing Ernesto get to his feet behind him.

Sophie was watching the soldier with fear etched in her eyes. She was a beautiful child, Mac realized. He’d caught a glimpse of her yesterday in the villa, here at
Garcia’s headquarters in the mountains near Agua Caliente. Mac had flown in a bunch of underworld leaders for a meeting at the drug lord’s estate near Machu Picchu, considered the national treasure of Peru. Too bad Garcia had built a huge villa, invisible from the air, only ten miles away from the beautiful Incan temple complex.

“I—I want my mommy!” Sophie wailed, pulling away from his proffered hand.

Mac’s heart contracted. He didn’t trust Ernesto. The soldier had syphilis and was crazy as hell from the disease eating away at what little brain cells he had left. Straightening to his full height, Mac turned and faced the heavily muscled soldier.

“Here,” he said, throwing the AK-47 back at him. “Get the hell out of here. Go back to the villa and tell the
patrón
I have the girl. I’ll bring her back myself. Now go!” He saw Ernesto’s chocolate-brown eyes narrow. The soldier held the rifle in his hands and stroked it.

“Don’t even go there,” Mac snarled, and he pulled the 9 mm Beretta out of the holster at his side. It was loaded and the safety was off. In the drug business no one ever went without a round in the chamber.

“Humph!
Norteamericano
trash!” Ernesto yelled. “I don’t know why Patrón Garcia keeps you on the payroll.”

Grinning savagely, Mac said, “Because I fly, shit-head. I fly any of his helos. Now get out of here and return to the villa. Call off the manhunt for the girl. I’ll bring her back myself.”

Lifting his lip, Ernesto barked, “This is not over, gringo.”

“It never is between you and me,
compadre.
”

After spitting vehemently, Ernesto turned and stomped back up the trail.

Relief flooded through Mac as he returned his attention to Sophie, who sobbed her heart out. His own heart wrenched. Sometimes being an ATF mole in this godforsaken green hell was too much for him to bear. It was enough that working undercover for the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, Mac had to transport soldiers, drugs, plus Garcia and his spoiled wife, Paloma, around South America.

As he studied the muddy little child, he wanted to put a bullet into Garcia’s temple. The man was a sick bastard. But if Mac did that, he’d blow his cover—which had taken more than a year to develop—and could no longer feed information to the ATF. His main goal was to stay undercover long enough to identify all of Garcia’s drug ties and find out where the other drug lords lived. He would then give all that information to the ATF and the CIA so that an international sting operation could be coordinated to bring Garcia and his buddies down for good.

As Mac reached out for Sophie, he wanted to chuck the whole thing. He hated the fact that Garcia regularly kidnapped people; that was a way of life and a source of earnings for many people down here, including drug lords. But when it came to harmless, innocent children like Sophie, Mac could barely hang on to his composure.

“Come on, Sophie. It’s all right. I won’t hurt you. My name is Mac. Can we be friends?” He crouched down because he knew his size would intimidate her. He wore
a shoulder holster as well as a sidearm over his dark green flight suit. Mac knew he looked scary to the child. She sat there and scrubbed her eyes with her dirty hands, making messy red circles around them. With a very slow movement, Mac opened the Velcro fastening of the pocket on his right thigh and pulled out a white linen handkerchief.

“Hey, I’d say you need a little cleaning up here.” He handed her the handkerchief. She hesitantly took it and then scrubbed her mud-streaked face. Behind him, Mac could hear the shouts dying down. Sophie hadn’t gone far from the fortresslike villa hidden in the jungle.

“I want my mommy….”

“I know you do. We’re working on that, Sophie. In the meantime, you have to come back to the villa with me. Can I carry you? Look at your toe. It’s bleeding. I think you stubbed it while running.” Her left big toe was bruised, swollen and purple, and Mac thought she might have broken it.

“Oh…” she whimpered.

“It’s okay, Sophie,” Mac said in English to her. “Will you let me take my other handkerchief and wrap it around your foot? We’ll get you cleaned up back at the villa. I’ll make sure your toe gets taken care of. Can you move it, honey?” He kept his voice low and soft. Little by little, Sophie responded. She held up her leg and wriggled all her toes. Grinning, Mac said, “Hey, that’s terrific, Sophie. Looks like you just stubbed it. Let me lift you up and take you back to the villa? I’ll get Señora Renaldo to clean it up for you. Okay?”

Renaldo was the latest nanny hired by Garcia to tend his only child, six-year-old Tiki, a beautiful black-haired little girl. Mac knew that the reason Sophie had been kidnapped was because Tiki was lonely, and she had a
norteamericano
doll with white skin, blond hair and blue eyes. Tiki had said she wanted a real doll matching that description. Garcia had put out a call to find a child around Tiki’s age, and poor little Sophie had been targeted.

“Where’s my mommy?” Sophie asked, sniffing.

“She’s at home in Lima,” Mac explained. He slowly eased up on one knee and held out his hands toward her. At first she cringed away, but then changed her mind and moved into his arms. When she wrapped her own slim arms around Mac’s neck, he nearly cried. Sophie clung to him as if desperate for protection.

“It’s going to be okay, Sophie,” he told her as he lifted her gently and got to his feet. Sophie buried her head against his neck and sobbed once. Mac could feel her trembling with fear as he turned and began to walk back to the villa. Mac purposely kept to a snail’s pace in order to give Sophie time to settle down.

“My daddy smells like you,” she muffled against his neck. “He always smells of lime.”

Mac smiled, watching his footing. The many woody vines were a precarious trap for anyone following the animal trails around the villa. “Well, I was running pretty hard to find you, so I don’t think I smell all that good right now.”

Out in this humid jungle, everyone sweated profusely, and he was no exception. On any given day, as
he flew to and from the mountain retreat to cool, dry Cuzco, which sat at nearly thirteen thousand feet, the underarms of his flight suit were dark with sweat.

“Is…is Daddy looking for me? What happened? Where am I?”

Holding his large hand against the small of her back, Mac patted her soothingly. “Sophie, you’ve been taken from your home, but I know your mother and father are looking for you. I’m sure they will do everything to get you back home.” Soon, he hoped, but from what he’d heard from the housecleaning staff at the villa, Garcia had taken Sophie as a permanent playmate for Tiki. That meant that the American child would become a virtual prisoner to Garcia’s family, with no hope of escape. His heart broke.

His mind churned over ways he might get her home, but none of the plans he’d come up with would work. No, if he tried to get Sophie out of here, he’d blow his cover, and then all of his work would be for nothing. How could he reconcile one child’s life against bringing down a drug empire? Was it really worth it? Sophie was innocent. One more helpless victim in the global drug war.

Mac knew the protocol for South American KNRs. The Press would be kept out of it. Everything would be handled behind the scene. As Mac walked along the trail, moving up the steep incline toward the green-painted stucco villa, his hatred for Garcia mounted. And that kept him going, kept him focused on his mission.

As he entered the villa, Mac heard Garcia screaming. He halted just inside the foyer of the main house, which the heavily armed soldiers at the door allowed him to enter. After scraping his muddy boots on the woven
rug, an Incan design of red, yellow and orange, Mac waited. He knew this villa like the back of his hand and had sent off a carefully sketched diagram of it to his Washington contacts many months ago.

The screaming continued, and Mac could tell it came from Tiki’s playroom. Garcia was shrieking at the nanny, Señora Renaldo.

“You stupid bitch! You let her escape! Who do you think you are? You were supposed to watch Sophie! She’s Tiki’s playmate! And what do you do? You let her out of your sight!” Then he slapped her.

Mac placed his free hand over Sophie’s ear to keep the girl from hearing Paulino Renaldo’s shriek of outrage. Damn, he’d like to get Sophie away from this, but at this point there was no place to go.

“I’m tired of you! Antonio, take her out and get rid of her. Permanently. I’m gonna get someone in here who knows what she’s doing!”

Mac heard the nanny put up a fight. After all, she was trained in the martial arts. He knew that Antonio, one of many guards in charge of protecting the child, would handcuff the older woman outside and taken under heavy security to a remote location where he’d put a bullet in her head. Then they’d dump her body in the nearby Urubamba River, and her lifeless form would be swallowed up by the restless, angry water, never to be seen again by her family in Lima.

As Paulino’s angered curses echoed off the walls, Mac moved into the spacious living room. He then crept quickly into the kitchen, which distanced them from the woman’s piteous screams.

Within minutes, the villa became quiet again. Mac continued to hold Sophie safely in his arms near the kitchen counter. The kitchen staff, their eyes wide with fear, had backed off and left Mac with the girl.

“Where is my golden-haired child?”

Cringing inwardly, Mac heard Garcia’s voice. His stomach clenched. He hated himself, because now he would have to hand Sophie over to the bastard. This child was playing hell on every emotion he had. Under any other circumstances, Mac would have gotten her back to her worried, grieving parents. Swallowing bile, he moved out of the kitchen, meeting Carlos Garcia in the living room. His boss was casually dressed in a white peasant shirt, jeans and sneakers. It was Garcia’s black eyes, narrowed and glittering, that made Mac halt with Sophie in his arms.

“Is she all right, Coulter? You found her, yes?”