Unexpected

Unexpected By Lori Foster




“IS THIS YOUR ROOM OR MINE?”


He didn’t answer. The door swung open and Ray was pleasantly surprised to see the room wasn’t ritzy at all. In fact, it was almost utilitarian with one full bed, a nightstand, and a dresser with a small television sitting on it. It was clean and neat, but not what she had expected after the first-class airfare.

“Well, you’ve managed to surprise me, Eli. But I thank you. The room is perfect.” She smiled.

He stepped inside with her and closed the door.

Ray’s smile slipped. “Did I misunderstand?”

He shook his head, but leaned on the door as if he fully intended to stay.

“Is this your room and not mine?”

Eli crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s your room.”

“Good, that’s what I thought.” It wasn’t necessary, but she added, “I couldn’t imagine you willingly staying in a room this plain. I figured you’d get a suite or something.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, he said, “It’s also my room.”




Chapter One


She’d already signed the contract.

Backing out now would blow her reputation with the agency, and besides, this mission would be a piece of cake. There was no reason to drag her feet. She needed the money, she was free at the moment, and it’d be a routine run, nothing more, nothing less. It’d be easier now than in the past. Everything had changed.

Herself included.

She shook her head at that errant thought. True, she was older now, wiser, more settled. But at the core, she was the same—unacceptable to most, invaluable to others. Her skills, an innate part of her, were still finely honed. She knew what she could do, and damn it, she’d do it. Hell, she’d missed doing it.

So why, when she pushed the door open and stared into the dim, smoky room of the bar, was her heart so heavy in her chest? It wasn’t the depressing gray cloud that hung thick in the air, not only from cigarettes, but from disgust and ambivalence and antagonism. This was far from a happy place, but then, she’d known it wouldn’t be. By necessity, it was an obscure hole in the Chicago slums where meetings like this one, with people like her, could be handled with discretion.

It was stupid to borrow trouble or dwell in indecision. Doing so undermined her credibility, so instead, she’d concentrate on getting this over with fast and easy, with no complications.

She had everything planned out.

Flipping her bangs off her forehead, she strode into the room, ready to get things started.

Several heads turned her way, scrutinizing her, making note of her appearance. Calculating. For much of her life, she’d gotten undue attention for one reason or another, most of the reasons uncomplimentary. She’d long since gotten used to the stares and the whispers. She ignored them all, and with luck, they’d show her the same courtesy.

Peering through the obscuring smoke, she scanned the tables and booths, searching out each darkened corner. Country music blasted through tinny speakers, vying with the boasting and bragging of drunken men. It was the typical atmosphere of a seedy bar. Without thinking, she rubbed her stomach, sick with a rush of vivid memories that never failed to surface.

Then her gaze locked onto his. Wow. The past faded away under the impact of the present—his impact. She felt . . . invaded.

Bright hazel eyes, radiant in the otherwise dismal interior, held her captive. She stared at him; he stared back.

Never before had she seen such intense emotion in a man’s expression. For a moment, it knocked her off guard. Without moving, he appeared turbulent, frustrated, filled with determination and impatience.

Because of his situation, or because she’d arrived late?

She watched him a moment more, taking his measure. He was bigger than most of the men she knew or had worked with. And he had a more self-assured air. That he’d be trouble she didn’t doubt—he pretty much screamed it with a capital T. But how much trouble, that’s what she needed to know.

Lounging back in his chair, he allowed her perusal, and even took the time to look her over, too. But then, amazingly enough, he dismissed her by giving his attention back to the entrance of the bar.

Cynical amusement nudged away the lingering nervousness. He hadn’t realized her identity? She wasn’t what he’d been expecting? Typical. And for a second there, she’d thought he might be more astute than the others.

Anticipating his reaction when she introduced herself, she started toward him. He sat at a solitary table at the far end of the room, his back to the wall so he could face the bar, a rear exit to his right. It was a guarded position she would have chosen, but probably just a coincidence for him.

She wove her way around tables, drunks, and proffered drinks without once taking her eyes off him.

As was her usual habit at such meetings, she’d dressed in plain black clothes. It made it easier to disappear if necessary, and didn’t draw added attention that more complimentary clothes might have.

Her long-sleeved tunic hung to midthigh, loosely fitted so it wouldn’t impede her movements should she need to take physical control of the surroundings. Her jeans were slim, her low-heeled boots only ankle high. She never wore jewelry—in fact, she didn’t own any—but she did carry a black briefcase. The case was an annoyance, but it usually proved necessary to have it handy.

When she stopped in front of him, his gaze came to her face, arrested for only a moment. Then slowly, very slowly, he looked her over again, his attention lingering in certain places like her chest, below her waist, her thighs. His look was so intimate, so personal that it brought on a mélange of sensations—outrage, disgust, and strangely enough, heat. Surely not embarrassment, she told herself. She was too old and far too jaded to be disconcerted by the likes of him.

His visual inspection was appreciative and felt like a tactile touch. Damn it, she didn’t like being touched, not without permission.

Her eyes narrowed, prompting him to a softly uttered, reluctant rejection. “Sorry, honey. It’s unfortunate, but I’m already busy tonight.”

The nerve. Despite her exceptional control, antagonism bristled to the surface. Her every movement rigid, Ray hooked a chair and drew it out. She seated herself, placing the briefcase at her feet for safekeeping.

He cocked one dark brow upward and braced his forearms on the rough, scarred table. The new position emphasized the width of his shoulders, the brawn of his arms. She’d expected another wimpy, slim GQ look-alike, but this man could be a barroom bouncer. He wasn’t bulky, just big and hard and solid.

Added to the fine physique were the eyes of a predator, now filled with annoyance. He leaned toward her with a scowl.

“I’m Ray Vereker,” she drawled, stopping him in his tracks. She didn’t say anything more, didn’t offer her hand in polite greeting. She just waited for the usual signs of disbelief and disparagement.

They were slow in coming.

Rather than gape, he leaned back and studied her anew. If she’d thought his earlier perusal was intimate, it was nothing compared to how he looked at her now. For a lesser person, for someone without her skills and background, it might have been an unnerving process. His eyes were such an unusual shade of hazel, cat eyes, bright with intelligence, almost menacing. They went from heated notice to cool regard.

Deciding to mock his up-close and personal inspection with one of her own, Ray draped one elbow over the back of the chair and slouched down in the seat to get comfortable. Wearing an air of unconcern, she took in his appearance, from his dark brown hair cut in precise lines to his straight, masculine nose and high cheekbones to his mouth, now flattened with irritation at her boldness. He had a stubborn jaw, she noted, proving he’d be plenty of trouble, indeed.

The black tee he wore looked softer than heaven, fitted over that broad chest. Even his open jacket screamed wealth, made of fine leather and deliberately scuffed to appear fashionably worn. The watch on his thick wrist probably cost as much as her truck. Maybe more. And his nails were impeccably clean.

Thanks to the table, she couldn’t see below his waist, but she’d be willing to bet the rest of him was as sturdy and strong as what she could see. Maybe it was a good thing half of him was hidden. Half was about all she could take at one time. The man made her heart race.

Though she doubted he’d ever been in such a ramshackle bar in his life, he didn’t look the least bit ill at ease. Even her presence, which had to be a shocker, hadn’t really rattled him.

To be honest with herself, she admitted he was very fine to look at. She appreciated strength and self-control. From what she could tell, he had both in spades.

Not that it mattered. He was still rich, and given what she’d seen so far, too arrogant for his own good. What fool came into such a place and advertised himself as an easy mark? By wearing the watch and the jacket, he’d done exactly that.

He was a fool, all right. And for the next few days, she owed him her service.

As the silence stretched on, Ray sighed and crossed her legs. She knew his tactic. He hoped to remain silent so long that she’d begin to babble nervously. He underestimated her. He could sit in strained silence as long as he wanted. Time was money, his money, and she didn’t mind wasting it if he didn’t.

He looked at her mouth, rubbed his own, then pinned her in place with a laser-sharp gaze. In a flat tone devoid of any telltale emotion, he said, “I requested the meanest son of a bitch they had.”


She gave a slow smile. “I know what you requested. I have your papers with me.”

“And?”

She lifted one shoulder, held up her hands to indicate her presence. “They complied.”

Eyes closed, he pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. Ray noticed that his hands were large, sprinkled with brown hair. They looked like capable hands, not the pampered, smooth hands of a rich boy.

Catching herself, she jerked her attention back to his face. He scrutinized her, then asked with some disbelief, “Do you have any idea what it is I want from you?”

“Sure.”

With a touch of disbelief, his gaze slid all over her again, appraising, before both brows lifted. Ray never moved a muscle. He could look a dozen times if it made him feel better. She wouldn’t be changing.

“I assumed ‘Ray’ would be a man.”

“Assumptions are nasty things. They can get you into trouble.”

He waved that away. “What’s your real name?”

“Ray is my real name.”

“Your whole name then.”

“Why does it matter?”

Ray could feel his growing tension deep inside herself. It was an odd sensation, one she’d never experienced before. She half expected an explosion at any minute and braced for it, making herself tense, too.

“I’m wondering,” he said slowly, his unnerving attention on her mouth again, “if there’s some feminine nuance I’m missing.”

She smirked. “In me, or my name?”

His gaze snapped back to hers and he barked a laugh. “Honey, despite the hard attitude, your appearance is most definitely unmanly.”

He said that with . . . interest? No, no way. She was lousy at judging men and their various moods in regard to the whole man/woman thing, but she understood reality very well, thank you. No man in his right mind would be thinking of anything but the mission. Not with her. Not now.

And most definitely not after the mission ended, when her special skills had been revealed.

During her ruminations, the silence grew, and finally, because she had no reason not to, she said, “Ray Jean Vereker. But I go by Ray and only Ray. You’re given fair warning right now not to use my middle name, ever.”

Oddly enough, her warning evoked amusement. Oh, he didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile. But she saw the mischievous twinkle that entered those mysterious eyes. “Yeah? Or what?”

Done with the small talk, with the nonsense, Ray said, “Or I’ll walk out and you’ll be left to settle for the second meanest son of a bitch there is.”

A reluctant, slightly crooked grin tugged at his mouth, adding to his appeal. “You’re really that good?”

Ray didn’t hesitate. “I’m really that good.” She waited for his sarcasm, perhaps some outright derision.

Instead, he said, “Will you be offended if I ask for credentials?”

He wasn’t dismissing her out of hand? Well . . . that surprised her. Bemused, Ray straightened in her seat. “ ’Course not.” She pulled the briefcase up to the tabletop and with quick, deft movements opened the lock. She extracted the topmost papers and slid them across the table. “I’d think you were an idiot as well as a fool if you didn’t.”

He’d been reaching for the papers, but paused with her words. “You want to explain that?”

What the hell? He didn’t sound particularly insulted, more like intrigued. They needed to start out on the right foot, and that meant making him understand that if he accepted her, she was the boss and her rules were to be followed.

Her first rule would be to get him out of his fancy clothes and into gear much more suited to their purpose. That thought roused an image of the process, and unfortunately, it stalled at the part where he was out of his clothes, rather than in them. She’d be willing to bet he looked real good naked.

And if she didn’t stop thinking that way, things were going to get way too complicated.

Clearing her throat, Ray leaned on the table, making certain she had his undivided attention. “We’ll be lucky if we get out of here without someone trying to take your wallet or watch or both. And the men in here wouldn’t care if you got hurt in the bargain. Not that I’d let it happen,” she assured him. “When you’re with me, you’ll be safe. Part of my job is to protect you, and as I already said, I’m good at my job.”

“Like my own personal bodyguard, huh?”

His amusement stung. “An astute man adapts to his surroundings. An astute man knows it isn’t always necessary to flaunt his position in life. We’ll have our hands full without borrowing trouble for reasons of vanity.”

His expression sharpened as the amusement faded away. She’d made him mad. Very mad. It shone in every line of his taut face, the fire in his gaze.

Ray rolled her eyes. He wasted his time trying to intimidate her. Regardless of his good looks, she knew he’d be no different from any other wealthy man. Easy to take, and easier to leave. “Look, Mr. Connors . . .”

He snorted rudely. “You feel comfortable enough with me to throw out insults, so you may as well call me Eli.”

He’d surprised her again. She’d expected a blast of his anger, reciprocal insults, anything other than that calm, dry wit.

Ray didn’t like surprises. They were dangerous and could easily lead to trouble. She had to stop thinking she had him figured out. Maybe, just maybe, he was unique from the rest.

“It wasn’t an insult I gave you—”

“Fool? Idiot?” He snorted again, forcing her to fight off a smile.

“All right, it was, but I didn’t really mean it that way. Think of it more as an instruction.”

“An instruction on survival?”

“Why not? I was told you wanted to stick close, that you insisted on accompanying me when I go in.” And that’s what really nettled her. She worked alone. Always. Not since that awful time long ago had she allowed a partner. But damn it, she needed the pay a job like his would bring.

She drew a deep breath and continued. “Since it appears I have no say in that half-witted decision—”

“You don’t. It’s my brother over there, so I’m going along.”

“—and since I have no intention of causing myself extra worry just so you can dress in your finest, you’re going to have to follow my lead. In everything. Do I make myself clear?”

There was another long hesitation while Eli searched her face. She felt . . . touched again, as if he somehow saw below the surface. Impossible. She excelled at hiding all thought, all expression, and no one, certainly not a fancy-pants rich boy, would discern anything about her that she wanted kept private.

Finally, coming to some silent conclusion that he didn’t share, Eli said, “The watch is from my grandfather and it never comes off.”

Never wasn’t acceptable, but for now, Ray let it go. “And the jacket?”

His crooked grin reappeared. “The oldest one I own.”

She would not be charmed by that boyish smile. Straightening the papers on the table between them gave her something to look at other than those devastating eyes. “Gotcha. Well then, we’ll just need to shop before we leave.” Ray glanced up and away. “That is, if you still want me.”

Uncertainty hit her the second she said it, and she shoved the papers toward him. Affidavits, referrals, and recommendations made up her resume. There were no specific details on any missions because every case was covert, guaranteed high-priority privacy protection.

The papers would detail her abilities, her experience, and her success. But they wouldn’t give names or dates. Eli would never know that her missions had grown farther and farther apart—or why.

He accepted the documents, giving all his attention to her credentials. He took his time, carefully reading everything.

Without looking up, he said, “You’ve been to Central America before.”

The words wanted to stick in her throat, but she forced them out. “I’ve been there.”

“More than once?”

“More than once.” She wouldn’t give him specifics about those other times. The papers told him she’d succeeded in her missions, and anything more was none of his damn business.

But she could tell him what she’d already found out about this mission. “Your brother’s in Mataya.” That snared his attention. Hungry for info, he put the papers aside to listen. “It’s a small village that’s usually pretty peaceful. Now that they’ve got your brother, though, they see him as the pot of gold. You don’t have to worry. They’re treating him like a prince.”

“How can you know that?”

“I’ve had dealings with that village before. In the past, they’ve helped me with other rescues. In fact, that’s probably where they got the idea to try snatching your brother.”

“From helping you rescue other men?”

“Maybe. I have it on good authority that they won’t hurt him, but I doubt he’ll be comfortable with their standard of living. He won’t be dining on prime rib or soaking in the sauna, that’s for sure.”

Eli leaned toward her. “I was told by some of his friends who’d been with him that he wasn’t hurt, but no one knew how to get him back. There’s been no ransom demand, no official notice.”


She shrugged. “They probably don’t know what he’s worth.” She could just picture the bunch of them, pseudo guerillas, hashing over the dollar amount with hopeful greed. “The guys who took him are new at this.”

“How do you know for sure who has him?”

“I checked before agreeing to the job.”

“Your connections in Central America are that good?”

“Of course.” She didn’t tell him that she had befriended some of the people in years past. Locating a fair-skinned rich boy wasn’t all that hard. He stuck out like a broken thumb. “I know where he is, I know that he’s fine, and I know how to get him out with the least amount of hassle.”

“We don’t yet know what they want for him.”

She rolled her eyes again. “They want money—the only issue is how much you’ll have to actually pay, and that’ll be negotiable. It won’t be exorbitant. They’re so poor, ten thousand would seem like ten million to them.”

He seemed relieved by her confidence. She could actually see some of his pent-up anger easing. “I was told you were good.”

She accepted that tribute without modesty. “Yeah, I’ve been told that, too.”

He made a face of hesitant acceptance. “Your grasp of the situation verifies it, and certainly everything in your papers looks credible.”

She heard that “but” loud and clear. “So?”

“It’s still a little hard to believe.”

Here we go. “Because I’m female.”

“Because you don’t look cutthroat enough, powerful enough, or hardened in any way.” His drew a slow breath, his gaze locked on hers. “Hell, if anything, you look soft. Very soft.”

The way he said it kept her from actually hearing the words for a moment. When they did register, indignation exploded, causing her to slowly straighten. She felt her muscles—sleek, not obvious, but there all the same—quiver at the insult. Her body automatically went on alert, her senses rising to an acute level of awareness, ready to move with fluid speed.

Ready to kick his ass.

No man had ever dared to tell her she was soft. Most never gave it a thought one way or the other unless her talents were needed, and when she proved how hard she could be, they no longer cared. Her voice was silky and filled with menace when she purred, “You require a demonstration?”

He didn’t grin, but he definitely looked amused again. “Offering to beat me up?”

His humor rubbed her on the raw. “Don’t think I can’t.”

This time he actually laughed, but with incredulity and astonishment. “I probably outweigh you by ninety pounds, none of it fat. You really think you’re that good?”

Before the mission was finished, Ray vowed to show him just how good she could be. It’d be a well-deserved lesson, and one he wouldn’t forget. “I’m alive. That’s good enough for me.”

“Alive, but still a woman.” He tilted his head, laughing quietly. “It’s tough to swallow.”

Much more of his provocation and the lesson would come sooner rather than later. She wasn’t usually so prickly, but the majority of her jobs weren’t with a man like him. Most who hired her were obnoxious, arrogant, belligerent men who she could easily dismiss as unimportant and unworthy of her temper. They treated her as a lesser person. They did not dare to tease her, or smile at her with masculine pleasure.

They did not size her up as a woman.

Before she ruined everything by dislocating his shoulder, she got her temper under control. “Are we staying here? I want a drink if we are, and if not, well then, I suggest we get going. We’re drawing a lot of attention.”

Instantly alert, Eli’s piercing gaze swept around the room with hasty caution. “Where?”

Motioning with a tilt of her head, Ray said, “At the bar.”

He looked, and scowled at whatever he saw. “The bar is behind you. How do you know anyone’s paying attention to us?”

“Feminine intuition?”

His mouth flattened. “It was a legitimate question, Ray.”

With his mood soured, hers improved. “Yeah, all right. Don’t get your briefs in a bunch.” She watched with satisfaction as his expression tightened even more, then admitted, “I can feel it.”

“It?”

“Yeah. The growing tension, the static charge. Someone is plotting.” She gathered her papers and put them away, locking the briefcase and keeping it on the table in front of her. “I can feel the eyes, feel the hush in the air. The anticipation.”

When he only stared at her, she sighed. “It’s what I do, Eli, what I’m good at. Without gut instinct, I wouldn’t be here now.”

Eli considered that. She waited for his mockery, but after a thoughtful moment he nodded. “All right then. Let’s get out of here.” He pushed his chair back.

Triumph surged, but Ray didn’t give in to it yet. She wanted a commitment. She needed this job, much as it galled her to admit. There’d be hell to pay when Matt found out, but she’d handle him. “Then you do want me?”

Before Eli could answer, another voice, slurred with drink, sounded close behind her. “I want ya, honey.” A damp, meaty hand closed around her upper arm. Ray didn’t so much as flinch. She’d expected at least one battle before the night ended, and she wasn’t disappointed that she’d get it. Just the opposite.

Eli scowled, but Ray said only, “Looks like you’ll get your demonstration after all.”

He gave her an incredulous glance before surging forward. To her rescue? Ray grinned. What a joke. She stood and shoved her briefcase against his abdomen, halting him in his heroic attempt. “You wanna help? Watch my case for me.” The man still held on to her arm. “And you might want to get out of the way.”

“Like hell.” Eli dropped the case on the table, took one step forward—and was forced to duck as Ray went into action.

Smiling, she grasped the man’s arm just above his elbow, turned and bent to put her shoulder into his soft gut, and sent him flipping onto his back by the simple means of straightening. It had all happened in less than three seconds.

The big man sprawled out at Eli’s feet. For one moment his eyes were open in glazed shock, then they crossed and his head lolled to the side.

The comical expression on Eli’s face delighted her. With one novice move, she’d surprised him good, but there wasn’t time to relish her small victory.

A roar sounded behind her and a man lunged forward. Ray spun around, leg extended, and sank the heel of her boot into his groin. He screamed like a girl as he crumpled on the spot.

“Man, that must’ve hurt,” she said to Eli, who blinked at her in astonishment.

In typical barlike fashion, chaos exploded around them. For the first time that night, Ray felt good. She was in her element. Meeting Eli had filled her with some strange roiling emotion, and this was just what she needed to rid herself of it. It had been too damn long since she’d had a good workout. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she shook her hands to get them limber and looked around for fresh meat, waiting for the next attack, grinning all the while.

“Jesus.”

She turned to see Eli staring at her with appalled incomprehension. Big as he was, strong as he appeared to be, he still looked aghast at the various scuffles quickly escalating to brawl proportions. Damn. No time for fun now. Her first priority was keeping Mr. Moneybags safe.

“Come on.” Ray grabbed his hand and her case and started for the back door. He allowed himself to be towed along.

Another man reached out, snatching at the back of Eli’s jacket. Ray moved to defend him, anxious to get in one more lick, but Eli didn’t give her the chance. More aggravated than alarmed, and with no hesitation whatsoever, he punched the man in the side of the throat. The poor fellow gagged and staggered back into a table, knocking over drinks and starting another quarrel.

Impressed, Ray looked at Eli with new eyes. Surprise of surprises, he could defend himself. What about that?

As if he’d read her thoughts, he shook his head, flexed his knuckles, and somehow took the lead, yanking her out the door and into the chill night air.

Now that he was relatively safe, Ray tried to release his hand, but Eli held on, his grip unbreakable unless she wanted to stop and prove a point. Which she didn’t, not yet anyway. They were still in a darkened alley in a disreputable part of town, and anything could happen. Men were known to leave bar disputes with a knife in hand, or worse, a gun. It wouldn’t do her reputation a damn bit of good if someone shot at him or managed to prick him with the tip of a switchblade. Rich people bled a lot.

That didn’t mean, however, that she’d let him be in charge. Ray pulled him to a stop. His hand was large and lean, swallowing hers, making her feel almost . . . dainty. How absurd. She could kill a man with one blow. Nothing dainty about that.

But he kept her hand cradled in his like a little bird in a nest. His palm was incredibly warm, his fingers long and strong and rough with calluses.

She was trained to notice every small detail. The calluses on a wealthy man didn’t make any sense, but now wasn’t the time to ask personal questions. “Where’s your car?”


Eli gave a mock bow. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not as stupid as you want to think. I took a cab.”

“Perfect.” She nodded her approval. “Then we can both take my truck.”

Several more men spilled out of the bar, fists and rank curses flying.

Ray got Eli moving again with a jerk. “Come on.”

They jogged out of the wet, smelly alley into the incredible star-filled night. Ray breathed deeply of the cool moist air. She felt strangely stirred by the sequence of events that had just taken place. Sort of antsy and restless and way too warm. She wanted to run, to throw a few more hits. She wanted to sit down and just smile.

Shaking her head at her own odd mood, she continued at a fast clip down the road to the first side street. The moon was fat, providing plenty of light to guide them.

Eli easily kept up with her pace, but then, given his height, his legs were a whole lot longer than hers.

There, parked against the curb under the dubious protection of a bright street lamp, was her truck. She owned the most disreputable-looking piece of transportation on the road, and the most reliable. Ray again tried to pull away from Eli’s hold, and he again resisted her efforts.

She looked at him over her shoulder. “It’s going to be damn tough for me to drive a stick one-handed.”

He surveyed her truck with curiosity but no condemnation. Looking down at her, he asked, “It runs?”

Ray didn’t take offense. “Turn me loose and I’ll show you.”

He did.

Keys in hand, she unlocked her door, slid behind the wheel, and reached across the seat to unlock the passenger door for Eli. He had a little trouble getting it unjammed. It was a deliberate alteration to the door, making it tough for anyone to jump into her truck without her invitation.

She turned the engine over, proud of the throaty, rumbling purr of power, and was already coasting when Eli finally threw his shoulder into the door, jarring it loose so he could pull it open and jump in.

She flipped on her headlights, put the truck in gear, and rolled onto the main drag, quickly gaining speed. Eli snapped on his seat belt, drawing her notice.

Expecting his complaints to start at any second, she was surprised that he had his head back on the seat, eyes closed, looking very at ease. He didn’t seem the least put out by what had transpired thus far. Amazing, she thought, even as she admired the angles and planes of his face that, together, made a very striking appearance. What really got her, though, wasn’t his looks, but rather that small, secret smile he wore.

He’d had fun, maybe as much fun as she’d had.

To be sure, Ray asked, “Enjoying yourself?”

“Just reminiscing.”

She didn’t understand him at all.

Because wealthy men were the only ones who could afford her, she’d become well acquainted with their idiosyncrasies. They sometimes considered her work sport and were titillated by the threat of danger—which they thought less than real. They didn’t want to be inconvenienced, dirty, or at risk. And they most definitely didn’t want to put out much physical effort.

Yet Eli had held his own in the bar, ruthlessly defended himself, and now smiled about it.

He was one mystery on top of another. She wouldn’t question him about it because getting to know him personally wasn’t part of her job. She didn’t want to know him, to maybe start to care. Caring was a liability, a weakness she couldn’t afford. “We’ll shop in the morning and pack in the afternoon, then leave the next day.”

His eyes opened. Without raising his head, he turned his face toward her. Moonlight played over his features and illuminated his hazel eyes. “You can be ready that soon?”

“You can’t?”

His smile had been replaced with a kind of pensive reflection. “I’ll be ready. I just assumed these things required more planning.”

Ray shrugged with feigned indifference. “What’s to plan? I already know where he is and I know how to get in. Over the years, things have gotten easier, not harder in Central American. All we really need is a few supplies and some luck.”

He shifted closer. “If all they want is a little money, why don’t I just pay them?”

“Because they might wait another week or more before even asking. And in the meantime, your brother is in Central America. The guys who have him aren’t much to worry about, but what if someone else finds out about him and decides they’d rather ransom him? A rich American is tough to resist. It could get ugly. With me in the picture, we get him out pronto, they get some cash to keep them happy, and all’s well that ends well.”

Even to herself, she sounded convincing, and still her stomach twisted with dread. Memories were a bitch, and illogical to boot. What she’d said was true. This would be a joyride.

But it was the first time she’d returned with a partner.

She squeezed the steering wheel. “I took care of everything before meeting with you.”

Eli nodded, but asked, “Everything, meaning . . . ?”

“Travel arrangements, weapons, cover once we’re there. It’s all set.”

He shook his head in awe. “You’re not lacking in confidence, are you?”

“Modesty isn’t one of my virtues.” Considering that topic dead, Ray went onto the next item of business. “Where do you live? Or do you expect me to guess?”

She found he wasn’t easy to rile when, after a look of censure, he gave her simple directions. “Do you want me to pick you up in the morning?”

Ray stopped at a red light. So late at night, the roads were deserted. Other than the mellow purr of the truck’s engine, silence filled the cab to the point she thought she could hear her own heartbeat. Or maybe it was his.

She twisted toward him, caught him watching her, and her stomach got jumpier than ever.

She thought about altering the plans, thought about insisting on a necessary distance between them. But at this stage, it wouldn’t make sense. Not now, and not because of some vague awareness she’d never sensed in herself before. So, Eli was an appealing man? He wasn’t the pansy-ass she’d expected him to be, and he wasn’t rude or condescending. Big deal. He’d still bought and paid for her service. She’d have to keep that in mind.

“Pick me up? No way. I’m sleeping at your place.” Her words were casual but commanding. Now that she’d made up her mind, she wasn’t about to let him change it.

Eli looked blank. “My place?”

The light turned green and Ray eased forward. “No reason for me to spend the night in a motel when you have plenty of room. Right?”

After a hesitation, he said, “Right,” but he didn’t sound convinced.

“We’re going to be getting real familiar soon, anyway.” She spared him a glance and saw his intent frown of consideration. “Get used to it.”

Since Ray had needed very specific directions, Eli asked, “You’re not from around here?”

“Illinois, yeah. Chicago, no.”

“Where are you from?”

Just as she didn’t want his personal details, she wouldn’t give her own. “Did you notice that wasn’t in the papers you looked at?”

He shrugged. “So?”

“My private business is just that, private. In return, I don’t want to know any more about you than what you need from me, the facts, and any pertinent information. That’s it.”

“I see.”

“I hope so.” She meant to let it go at that, she really did, but before she knew it, more words tumbled out, making her sound defensive. “I can’t stomach biased assumptions.” The truck jerked as Ray shifted, giving away her unease. Damn it, she didn’t need this. Why the hell was she babbling?

Eli sighed. “Once again, I’m afraid I miss your meaning. Do you care to explain, or is that forbidden also?”

Ray wanted to bite her tongue, but she was the one who’d started this. “My life and how I live it is nobody’s business but my own.”

“I agree.” He tilted his head and, very softly, asked, “So what was that about biased assumptions?”

Damn her loose lips for getting her into this. She drew a breath and tried to think of the simplest, least emotional way to explain. “Based on the job you’ve hired me to do, you probably already have preconceived notions of the type of person I am.” He neither confirmed nor denied that, so she demanded, “Don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure you out.”

“Well, don’t.” Her voice had been an octave too high, and with ruthless determination, she sought the unfeeling fa?ade of a hired mercenary. It took her five endless seconds before she said, with more control, “Who I am and what motivates me can’t be shown on a paper. Just trust that I can do the job and keep any other thoughts to yourself.”

“Right. Got it. No speculating.” Then he ruined that reassurance by saying, “So you’re actually two different women. That’s what you’re getting at? And I’ll only have the privilege of meeting the mercenary. The other woman, the one I can’t discuss, is off-limits.”

Oh God, she should throw him out of the truck and head home right now. Her teeth locked together. “You can put it that way if you like.”


“This is interesting.”

“No. It. Is. Not.” She glared at him. “As long as you stay away from personal questions, we’ll handle this business just fine. Like a business. But get nosy and you won’t like the consequences.”

“Meaning you’ll beat me up?”

She barely swallowed down the feral sound of frustration, then muttered, “Don’t think I won’t.”

Eli made an annoying tsking sound. “I had no idea mercenaries were so touchy.”

That did it. Her spine snapped straight and her temper peaked. Through her teeth, she said, “I am not touchy.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell overreacting.” His voice rose in volume, too. “I didn’t ask for a listing of your most recent lovers or what religious organization you belong to. I don’t give a damn if you dance naked on a stage or spend your free time as a brain surgeon. In the civilized world, people make small talk. That’s all I was doing.”

And there was the crux of the problem. Ray had never fully fit into the civilized world. Oh, for the most part she’d left the mercenary life behind. If it weren’t for Matt’s college fund, she wouldn’t have taken this mission. But her job as a carpenter only took them so far and she wanted her brother to have every advantage. She wanted his life to be different.

Outwardly, Ray did her best not to react to Eli’s barbs. But inside, she felt every single one. She had been touchy, damn it. Pass her the Midol, because she’d acted just like a woman with PMS.

She thought to apologize, she really did. But it had been years since she’d bothered to excuse herself to anyone, for any reason, and she wasn’t certain she still knew how. The silence had gone on too long, anyway.

She’d just have to concentrate on ignoring him—as if anyone could. God, she could feel him next to her. She knew right where his muscled thighs rested on the seat, where his long fingers tapped restlessly on the door. She knew how his coat had opened over his abdomen, how the wind had ruffled his dark hair.

If only he’d been the same as the other arrogant jerks who’d hired her. Or if he weren’t so damn handsome, and so accepting of her instructions.

She drew a deep breath—and smelled his rich scent.

How did he manage to smell so good? Moments ago her stomach had been jumpy over the thought of returning to a place that held only painful memories for her.

Now her stomach jumped because sitting beside her was a man who didn’t fit any of the previous molds she understood. He was different, but in all the right ways.

She’d done a lot of preparation for this mission. She had it planned down to the minute. In and out fast. No time for complications.

But she hadn’t planned for Eli Connors. What a sexy complication.

She had a feeling this was going to be the hardest mission of her life.