After all, making love to Brody would be the greatest adventure of all.
“Um, Brody, I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.” Amelia cast a wary glance at the villagers staring at them and linked her arm through Brody’s, pressed close to his side. The looks they were getting were far from friendly.
Next to her, Brody walked casually, but his muscles were coiled tight.
“Are we lost?” she asked in a near-whisper as two dark-skinned men stepped out of one of the flat, tin-roofed mudbrick homes that rose up the hillside in one never-ending strip on both sides of the muddy street. A scraggy-looking goat crossed their path, stopped and gave them a disinterested look, then trotted away.
“We’re not lost,” Brody said. “Just stick close to me, and for God’s sake, don’t talk to anyone.”
As if she would. No one here looked welcoming enough to speak to. Even the women stared with open hostility at them.
“Why did you bring us here then?”
“Only way to the next checkpoint.”
The only
safe
way. Right now, she wondered if they stood a better chance with Mr. Newton and his friends because the vibe she was getting from the villagers made her want to run in the opposite direction.
“Why are they looking at us?” In her peripheral vision, a group of three men fell into step behind them.
“They think we’re drug runners or weapons smugglers.”
“Drug runners,” she squeaked and clamped her lips together when Brody glared at her. “
Drug runners
?” This time it came out a fierce whisper.
“Like them.”
“You brought me to a drug smuggler’s town?” Her voice rose again. She quickly lowered it. “How do you know they’re smugglers?”
The look he sent her told her how ridiculous her question was. Of course he knew they were criminals. He had fought some off outside the bar the other night.
“What do we do?”
“Keep your head down and keep walking.”
Ducking her chin, she gripped Brody’s arm and picked up the pace. The quicker they passed through this town, the better. Although calling it a town used the word loosely. More like a rundown neighborhood in the middle of nowhere, reeking with a smell of garbage set out in the sun too long.
Her boots sank into thick mud, making her calves ache. Brody didn’t seem bothered by the smell or the men trailing them. Annoyance rode her fear that the heat never got to Brody. Sweat poured down her back as the humidity reached one hundred percent, though it wasn’t raining. Her body adjusted to the heat and humidity little by little, but it was still uncomfortable the way her blouse clung to her and her cargo pants stuck to her legs. She wanted to wiggle. Which she didn’t do, thanks to the fourth man who joined the lurkers behind them.
“There are men following us,” she whispered.
“Just keep walking.”
Buying new hiking boots before she left probably hadn’t been the best decision. She was certain if she took off her socks she would find blisters. And she read that blisters in this kind of environment could lead to infection. Just the thought made her shudder.
“Señor?”
Brody stopped walking and rested his hand on top of hers in reassurance. Slowly, they turned to face the group that had grown to ten men. Out of the corner of her eye, women snatched up their children and rushed them inside. Not a good sign.
The leader of the group stepped forward, assessing them with cold, dark eyes.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Brody said. “We’re just passing through.”
But the leader wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at her. Amelia bristled under his scrutiny.
“I don’t think he understood you,” she said when the man didn’t reply. “Why are they staring at me like that?”
The leader stepped forward to peer into her face. Brody shifted slightly in front of her, blocking the man’s view.
The man fired off a string of sentences in rapid Spanish to his cohorts, who nodded and pointed at her. Suddenly they were surrounded, being grabbed, and hauled away. Amelia lost her grip on Brody’s arm, saw him reach around his back. But he wasn’t able to pull his gun as they were herded through a tall wooden fence.
Terrifying scenarios raced through her head. She could see the headlines now.
Killed by a band of locals for drug money, the mutilated bodies of a young woman and her companion were found deep in the Amazon. No identity has been made …
No, Brody wouldn’t let anything happen to them. He would know what to do. Even if they were seriously outnumbered.
Expecting to see a medieval rack or some other torture device, Amelia tugged against her captors. Only to stop and stare in disbelief at the adobe villa sprawled before her. Supported by tall pillars and old world design, it was spectacular. And completely out of place in the shabby village.
This couldn’t be good.
Amelia glanced at Brody. He stood on alert. She actually worried for the men holding him. Messing with Brody when he was in battle mode was not a good idea. The fight at the bar was proof of that. But he made no move to free himself.
“Señorita.”
She turned her attention to the man who had joined them, standing near one of the pillars, wearing a white linen suit that fit his lean frame like a glove. His jet-black hair was slicked back, his dark eyes centered on her.
Not in the least bit flattered, she inched in Brody’s direction. The man in the suit strode toward her. Not sure what to think, she stood her ground when he reached out a hand to touch her hair.
“What is your name?” he asked in accented English, motioning to his men who promptly let go of her.
“Amelia Sawyer.”
Brody made a warning sound. She bristled. What did he expect her to do? The man was clearly the boss. She was trying not to get them killed. Cooperation seemed the best way to do that.
The man suddenly grinned. “Sawyer, yes. I knew it. You look just like Señora Pandora. Come in, come in. I am honored to have you as a guest in my home.”
“You knew my Aunt Pandora?” she asked in disbelief.
“Sí.” The man nodded as the other men pointed at her and whispered among each other, making her feel like a celebrity. “Come. Join me for a drink. But he cannot come.”
He meant Brody. Panicked, she rushed to say, “No. Please, señor, he is my husband. You must let him in. He means no harm.” The lie came rolled off her tongue before she could stop it. Avoiding Brody’s eyes, she pleaded to the boss.
“Husband?” the boss repeated, casting a narrow-eyed glance at Brody. “You wear no rings.”
Oh, crap. “Because my
husband
was too cheap to buy nice rings and I refuse to wear a Cracker Jack ring.”
Brody sent her a look that said he clearly wanted to strangle her. It couldn’t have been better timed. The boss turned empathetic eyes to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “A woman as beautiful as you deserves fine diamonds and pure gold,” he said, glaring at Brody as if he’d done the unthinkable.
Smiling, Amelia allowed him lead her through the front door into the air-conditioned home. With a sigh of relief she let the dry air cool her overheated body. “You have a lovely home, señor … ?”
“Garcia,” the man supplied, ushering her to one of the wing-backed chairs. “And tonight you are my guest.”
• • •
The woman had no sense at all. Brody hid a scowl and shook off the hand that held him, wanting to rip the guy’s head off. They were in the house of drug lord Ricardo Garcia. He recognized him from his visits to town. It wasn’t something you forgot. The man was known to make people disappear if they crossed him. Not the kind of man you sat down to dinner with.
But that was exactly what Amelia was planning as she chatted happily with the Hispanic about her aunt who had obviously passed through and left an impression. As Pandora had been known to do.
“Please, allow me to give you shelter for the night,” Garcia said, motioning toward the male servant standing patiently inside the door. “Perhaps a shower and a change of clothes?”
Amelia’s face lit up at the mention of a shower and Brody cursed silently. She had absolutely no idea how dangerous it was for them to be here. How dangerous a man their host was. If she hadn’t told a white lie about them being married, he would be swimming in the bottom of the Amazon right now while piranhas fed on his dead body.
What the hell had he been thinking detouring through Garcia’s village? Avoiding Newton and his pals wasn’t worth this. He was doing his damnedest to keep her sociable little butt out of trouble. And a nice butt it was. Hard not to notice, with the way her cargo pants clung to her every curve, showcasing the tight, firm body beneath. Making him want to peel said clothes off her inch by inch until she was completely naked and wrapped around him …
“Señor? This way, please?”
It took him a moment to realize the servant was speaking to him. Amelia glanced over her shoulder as she walked away with Garcia and smiled. Brody gritted his teeth. It was no wonder she was always falling into trouble. She had no sense of danger and trusted much too easily.
Which only added to her charm, he thought irritably, falling into step behind the happy couple. No way was he letting her out of his sight. They were, after all, in the viper’s nest. And first chance he got he was getting them out of there.
When Garcia offered them one of the many rooms on the second floor, Brody decided that her marriage lie was a blessing in disguise. It put them in the same room together, even though Garcia sent him a censorious look before he closed the door behind him. Clearly, he was taken with Amelia and disapproved of him.
Once the door closed, he turned on her. “Married?”
She dropped her bags on the floor. “It was all I could think of on short notice. I was under pressure. For two small bags, they sure do get heavy. Do you want the shower first?”
Shower? First? “You have no idea how much trouble we’re in, do you?”
She flinched at his tone, but he didn’t relent. This was a dangerous situation they were in.
“No, Mr. Kern, I suppose I don’t. Why don’t you spell it out for me?” Her voice dripped with irritation. Not that he could blame her. They were both hot, sweaty and strung out from this “adventure” of hers.
“Did it occur to you that our host is being gracious not only because he knew your aunt, but because he might have another thought in mind for us?”
She frowned. “No, it never occurred to me that Mr. Garcia might have ulterior motives. Are you always this suspicious?” With a shake of her head, she dug through the bigger of her two bags and pulled out clean clothes. He saw the strap of a pink lace bra peeking out from the pile and stifled another curse.
“He’s one of the biggest drug traffickers in the region. You don’t think he sees opportunity for two unsuspecting Americans to use as mules?”
“Mules?”
“People who smuggle drugs across borders,” he supplied.
“Smuggle how?” she asked, pulling her clothes tight against her midsection.
“Ingestion. In the heels of shoes. In other uncomfortable places in the body. Should I go on?”
She shook her head, her face going pale. “No. Please don’t.” Her eyes met his. “You don’t really think he invited us in for that reason, do you?”
Brody shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”
“But he seemed genuinely happy to meet me.”
She looked so hurt that his anger evaporated and was replaced by something softer and damn uncomfortable. He couldn’t afford to go soft where Amelia was concerned. Not with their lives on the line. The danger following them was real. Like it or not, this was not the pleasure trip she wanted it to be.
He reached out and pulled her into his arms in an effort to console her. It wasn’t her fault she wanted to see only the good in man. He was actually sorry she had to learn otherwise. A sense of protectiveness like he never felt overwhelmed him, making him hold her tighter. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist while her cheek rested against his chest.
No matter what happened, he decided, he would protect her from the violence that existed in the world. Preserving her good nature and sometimes-misplaced trust suddenly seemed more important than finding buried treasure.
“What do we do?” she asked wearily. “You have your gun, right?”
“Confiscated when they patted me down outside the door.”
“How will we protect ourselves?”
“I don’t need a weapon to do that.”
“I don’t want to know what parts of your body you can use as a weapon,” she said with a shudder.
He wasn’t about to tell her his hands were lethal. Or that he had close quarters combat training and enjoyed it very much. Preserving her innocence was more important than tainting it with gruesome details of his military training and experience. Either way, he could protect them and that was all that mattered.
“This is turning out to be one draining day.”
She sounded as tired as she looked. He held her at arm’s length. “Go shower. Everything is fine.”
A tiny smile lifted her lips. Not for the first time he wanted to taste those lips. Instead he stepped away, let her go.
“Right. Everything is fine. I’ll only be a minute.”
“Take your time.”
With a nod, she disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. Brody raked a hand over his jaw. All he had to do now was figure out what Garcia’s game was.
A knock sounded on the door. He strode across the room and pulled it open. Another servant, this one young and female, stood there. She held out a pile of neatly folded clothes.
“For you and the señorita,” she said.
Brody took them from her and thanked her before closing the door. Gifts from their host. How gracious. Separating the two, he carried Amelia’s to the bathroom door and rapped softly.
“Brody?” she asked, cautious.
“I’m putting a change of clothes outside the door. From our host.”
“He brought us clothes? That was nice of him. Bring them in please?”
Nice?
More like suspicious. He pushed through the door and stopped short when he saw Amelia’s silhouette through the frosted glass shower door. He couldn’t see through, didn’t need to. The glass left just enough room for the imagination. And he was imagining plenty right now.