Perfect Stranger (9 page)

Chloe nodded. Thinking of
her sisters made her want to cry, but at the same time, she had the
strangest notion to
want
Jericho to wrap his arms around her and give her
comfort. Her fingers fluttered to her neck where he had kissed her
earlier in that little act of subterfuge. Her cheeks glowed with
warmth, the warmth spreading down from there.

"You should get some rest." Jericho pushed
off the railing. "And Chloe—"He turned to her, brushing her jaw
with his fingers once more before stuffing his hands into his
pockets. "For what it's worth, I think you are a very lovely
woman." He turned to saunter inside, pausing at the sliding door to
wait for her.

It was a second before Chloe could will her
legs to move.

****

Jericho purposefully stayed away as Chloe
went to sleep on the couch. He was having a problem keeping his
hands off her. These feelings were foreign to him, having never had
a woman around while he was in the field before.

He clenched his teeth and balled his hands
into fists, remembering how her legs had pressed beside his as they
rode earlier, her slender body tight against him, her breasts
pressed in his back. And then, there was that damn haunting moment
from this morning when the wind had fluttered the clothing on the
line away, and he had caught a peek of her tan, shapely ass in that
bright orange thong.

Jericho's nails dug into his palms at the
memory of the thong, sparkling in the sunlight, the color
contrasting attractively with her skin-tone. He remembered the
curves of her shapely bottom. The sight had made him want to do
many things with Chloe, and the thoughts of those things had driven
him to utmost distraction, especially when she’d danced for them
earlier. He had been lost in a fantasy, stripping her with his eyes
in the Carvalhos’s dining room.

Jericho shook himself mentally.

That
was definitely not something to be thought of while in the
field.
Our situation is dangerous enough
as it was,
Jericho reminded
himself.

A blinding shot of desire raced through his
veins then. He would swear he had never been so horny in all his
adult life.

He cursed himself when he realized just how
much she affected him. His heart thumped, and his blood gushed
hotly in his veins. He was halfway to hard just thinking of that
little peek he'd taken earlier at the clothesline. He was a lecher
of the highest order for doing that.

Guilt pinged at his conscious. She had
already been taken advantage of once, terribly, and he wanted to
track the insolent fuck down and … and what? Wasn't he somewhat
guilty of taking advantage of Chloe, too? She hadn't offered the
sight she'd unknowingly given him. She had trusted him to keep his
eyes on his side of the line.

It wasn’t as if she openly tempted him.
There was just something natural about Chloe that gravitated him
toward her.

Perhaps it had to do with his last
relationship being so long ago.

Jericho shut his eyes tightly, pinching at
the bridge of his nose.

He was frustrated with many things, but at
the moment, he was most frustrated with himself.

He sat with Miguél a while as the man worked
late on forging the passports and IDs, but at last Jericho left the
little basement and went to the living area.

He watched Chloe as she slumbered, wrapped
in an afghan throw. She had needed this night. She was a sheltered
American girl. She didn't deserve to be caught up in his mess.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, willing
dirty thoughts of her away.

What in the hell is wrong
with me?
he silently muttered. Jericho
pulled his hands back out of his pockets and raked them through his
hair as he found a spot on the floor by the couch. He eased himself
down onto his back, folding his arms behind his head.

Jericho turned his mind to his men, anything
to remove himself from the hazardous thoughts swirling his mind
with images of the woman lying so close to him.

Yet again, he wondered where in the hell
Butler and Gunner were and what had happened to them.

Chapter Seven

0700 hours, Sunday

Barbacena, Brazil

Chloe breathed in
the
Cafezinho,
or
small cup of coffee, set before
her. When she tasted it, the coffee was very sweet in the Brazilian
way. Mrs. Carvalho had mixed hot milk with her coffee for
breakfast.

Jericho sat beside Chloe at the kitchen
table, ignoring his cup for the window, peeping out at an angle
from behind the lime-green curtains.

Chloe ignored him for the
coffee, enjoying not having MREs for the last two meals. From the
kitchen, Mrs. Carvalho nattered on about the strong flavor of
the
pequi
she had
used the night before as she finished her husband's breakfast and
set a plate before him. All the while, the children were flying
around the older woman like planes, the whole way from the kitchen
to the table and back. Their mother began to berate them in their
native tongue, both boys laughing hilariously at her.

Chloe smiled and chuckled again and watched
the boys’ antics as she finished her coffee and then began to tear
away the peel from a banana. She turned her attention back to
Jericho as she bit into the fruit. He was still watching through
the window.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him around
the bite.

"The police are coming back from the alley,
probably to radio in the stolen bike," he said, glancing out the
curtains again. He raked his hands over his face and then shook his
head. "Damn it. We need to go," he said suddenly.

"What?" Why?" Chloe asked, lifting a hand to
cover her mouth, as she had just taken another bite. She stood as
he pulled her up by the elbow and dropped her banana to the table.
She had known they would be leaving shortly for the airport, but
not so soon.

"Just trust me. We don’t need anyone
breathing down our necks right now." He turned to Miguél. "Tell
them you know nothing of the bike. You haven’t even noticed—"

A knock at the front door startled them all
into deep silence. Chloe glanced nervously through the group.

Miguél held out his hands, motioning them to
calm down as he stood from his seat, wiping his mouth with a
napkin. "I will handle this, but you need to go. The back is
probably watched though."

"That won't be a problem," Jericho said.

"Eh, don't kill anyone, okay?" Miguél said,
glancing to his children, starting for the door. "Get yourself to
the airport," he told them both over his shoulder.

Jericho slung his assault pack on, shrugging
into the other strap. He picked up Chloe's and held her pack out
for her to take, then took her by the hand to lead her to the
back.

She looked worriedly behind them at Mrs.
Carvalho huddling her children to her side behind the counter.
Chloe and the woman both jumped at the same time, and Mrs. Carvalho
screamed as the front door crashed into the wall. Chloe went still
as enraged voices mixed with Miguél's came from the living room. A
gun fired, and Mrs. Carvalho screamed again, Chloe, too.

Chloe covered her ears and went to her knees
just as Jericho pushed her to the side, sending her tumbling into
the washroom behind the partial wall. Chloe quickly pulled her
knees into her chest and closed her eyes tight, her hands returning
over her ears.

Jericho fired his weapon three times, but
came quickly back to block Chloe. She peeped at his back.

There was a small pause of silence.

"Go, go!" Miguél shouted as he slammed the
door.

Jericho helped Chloe up, and she dusted
herself off. Miguél pulled out a pistol of his own and ran to
Jericho, pushing a clear bag with the fake IDs and passports into
his hand. "You were never here," he said urgently. To his wife, he
called, "Take the children down into the basement."

"Come on," Jericho said to Chloe, steadying
her as he turned them to the back exit.

She shook violently as she still tried to
look into the other room behind her. "Those men, are they dead?"
she asked, watching Mrs. Carvalho urge her children on.

"Most assuredly. We don’t have any time to
waste. When the police radioed that bike in … I don’t know how the
hell they figured out that bike had anything to do with us. Someone
had to have been listening to the police frequency is all I can
guess."

Chloe stumbled along, not understanding what
was happening, but Jericho stopped her just before the backdoor and
motioned for her to stay there. Chloe looked over her shoulder and
saw Mrs. Carvalho taking the children into the basement. Tears
began to streak Chloe's face for their fear. Fear brought there by
Jericho and herself.

Jericho pushed the door open, gun drawn. A
man was near the stoop in a police uniform, and Jericho brought the
butt of his weapon down on the man's head before he could turn
around. The dark-skinned officer fell to the ground, and Jericho
instantly pulled Chloe out the door. She stumbled down the steps
after him.

"How good a runner are you?" he asked.

Chloe winced. "I'm passable," she said
shakily.

"Hey, not the time for that," he said. "Save
your emotions for later. Draw off your fear. Don’t let it eat
you."

Chloe shook her head vigorously. "Just tell
me they will be okay."

"Miguél is a wise man. He didn't spend years
with the CIA and learn nothing."

That made Chloe feel better, just a little
bit.

Jericho dropped her hand and started running
at an even pace, Chloe on his heels. She glanced behind them once
as they came to a corner, and Jericho looked around to make sure
they were clear.

Chloe's feet pounded on the pavement, and
her breath grew labored. Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of
screeching tires behind them.

"Faster," Jericho shouted.

Chloe picked up her pace, struggling. She'd
always said she would take up running when someone or something was
chasing her, never thinking it would happen, nor did she have any
intentions to give anyone reason to chase her.

Jericho reached out for her, guiding her
into an alley. They ran to the end where Chloe crashed into
Jericho's back when he stopped. He quickly looked out into the
small shopping district, and then pulled her into his side as they
entered the busy street.

This thoroughfare reminded Chloe of the
street she had followed the gold sedan through, tight and flooded
with many pedestrians, vendor carts, and merchandise racks spilling
from businesses. The street was loud with many voices and varying
music from block to block.

An easy place to get lost in a crowd.

Chloe smelled roasting
meat from a food vendor where two women stood at a plume of smoke
from a grill that they had just tossed skewers on. As she and
Jericho circled a group, she nearly bumped into another cart
selling
Tapioca omelets. She'd tried one
filled with ham and cheese in Rio her first day in
Brazil.

Chloe glanced behind them
to see if anyone was there.

"Keep your head down," Jericho said,
startling her.

Chloe whipped herself back around and
ducked. They weaved among throngs of people. Jericho glanced back
every few minutes, inconspicuously as they made turns.

"Are they following us?" Chloe asked
low.

"Yes," Jericho said.

Panic tripled her heartbeat, and she started
to look over her shoulder again, but Jericho pushed her into a
shop. Chloe thought they would hide, but instead he pushed her to
the back, the owner calling loudly after them to stop. They
didn’t.

Jericho continued weaving along through
stacked boxes in the storeroom until they came to a backdoor. He
drew his gun as they walked out, and he swept the area; but their
followers were not there. The few pedestrians in the alleyway
hurried along as they saw them and the drawn weapon.

Jericho hurried them along and left the
alley onto a larger street. This area was more industrialized with
bigger buildings and parking garages, yet, there was hardly anyone
about.

"In here," Jericho ordered as they ran. He
veered off into a sparsely filled parking garage. They ran three of
the four floors up before stopping.

Chloe hung over at the middle, panting, her
hands on her knees. "There's nowhere to go from here," she cried.
"Why on earth did you bring us in here?"

Jericho threw open the door to a service
closet located in one of the concrete piers. "Because we can't
outrun them this time. You are going in here for the moment."

Chloe's brow furrowed. "Why? We should keep
going while we've lost them." She started for the edge to look down
on the street below, but Jericho caught her up and pulled her
back.

"We haven’t lost them," he said. A screech
of tires on the first floor reiterated his words.

Chloe's eyes shot to the end of the ramp.
Any second a vehicle would come skidding around that corner.
Quickly, she tucked herself into the little closet amongst the
brooms, but caught Jericho's arm as he began to shut the door on
her.

His gaze riveted on hers. "I have to make
more time for us, or we won't get away from these people. They'll
no doubt send more men after us, but we have to get out of this
city where we can hold the advantage."

Chloe sucked in a breath, her stomach
twisting in fear at the thought of Jericho facing them alone.

"It's all right. I got this," he told her,
and shut the door.

As the dark closed in around her, four thin
slants of light slicing down across her from the vent on the door,
her heart raced madly.