Cold Day In Hell (3 page)

Ty appeared to be of mixed blood, too. Castillo indicated a Latino heritage like hers, although he was a little darker than her mother or father.

Her chest pinched when she thought of her parents. She closed her eyes, and faded images of her mother and father slowly filled her mind. Eighteen years had passed, dimming her memory of their faces. She'd sworn to never forget, but time was a thief as much as Ortega was a killer.

Nothing would ever dim the horror of her loss. She trailed her hand across the scar on her midriff and to the larger one on the inside of her thigh. They were constant reminders of what she'd lost.

If she had her way, she'd extract that eye for an eye. She needed to be the one who pulled the trigger. Until the man who killed her parents was dead, they couldn't rest in peace.

Chapter Two

Ty returned to the cave, satisfied the rain had obliterated their trail. He stopped a few feet outside. "Remember I said not to shoot me."

"It's tempting, but I'll restrain myself."

He crawled inside, knowing she'd probably become frightened in his absence. He recognized the sound of nerves laced with humor. "That's damn good of you."

 "What took you so long?"

"I tried to find a spot clear enough to use the satellite phone."

"No luck?"

Ana sat in the exact spot he'd left her. The Beretta was aimed at the ground but still clutched in her small hands. Big brown eyes welcomed him. Jesus, she was pretty. Her long dark brown hair, which she'd piled high in a knot, shimmered in the dim light.

"None. The rain washed away all evidence we might've left behind. Doesn't mean they're not still searching for us." He'd always thought the Beretta to be a regular-sized weapon. In her hand, it looked like a cannon. She offered it to him. "Keep it."  

"Thanks." She smiled, and he changed his mind.

Not pretty. She was beautiful.

"Get ready, because we're about to get up, close and personal." There was no way to avoid physical contact in a space this small.

Dripping wet, he crawled inside and maneuvered around so he faced the opening. He shouldered off his pack, leaned back against the sod wall and semi-relaxed for the first time in days. This op had taken much longer than planned, and the chances of it being a bust increased with each sunrise.

He stretched out. She removed her boots and did the same. Their legs touched at the thigh, sending a bolt of electricity though the material of his pants and straight to his groin. A hint of citrus drifted off her. Had to be the bug spray. Or that thick shock of wavy hair.

"You're soaking," she commented. "You stash any dry clothes in here?"

"I'm fine. You hungry? I have a little food. Nothing fancy."

"Starving."

He dragged his pack over and dug through his small stash of food. Ana tucked her feet under her.

"You should get out of those wet boots."

"I've been through worse." Dry feet might sound good, but not out here and not with her to protect. "Before you put those back on, I'd suggest you shake them out. Just in case any night visitors crawl inside."

He opened an MRE and handed it to her. She accepted the offering without comment. "It's nourishment. You'll need it. We've got a couple of days of rough terrain ahead of us."

"I'm not sorry for trying to get to Ortega. But I apologize for not meeting you with the weapons and explosives. I put you in a difficult position."

She sounded semi-sincere. For some odd reason, he wanted to believe her. "I worked through it."

"Where are we going?"

"To the river. We'll be picked up there and flown to a private airstrip." Turning back to her, he caught her studying him. It was a look of curiosity. Well, he was curious, too. What had motivated her to go off the grid? The intel the Colombian government sent the FBI had stated she'd meet Ty with supplies. They neglected to mention she was a loose cannon. Maybe they'd omitted more than a few facts.

"Then back to Bogota?"

"For debriefing." He scooped a bite of potted meat into his mouth. "Earlier you wanted to explain why you nearly botched this mission? I'm all ears."

She lifted her chin as if preparing for a right cross. "Where to start," she said, more to herself than him.

"At the beginning."

Her dark eyelashes shaded her expression for a second before her gaze met his head-on. The fiery spark he was getting used to had faded, replaced by a sadness that made his heart clench.

"My name is Ana Maria Vega Cisneros. But you already know that, don't you?" 

Her accent had thickened. His sister's favorite movie popped into his mind, and he smiled. Guilt wiped it off. "Sorry. That had nothing to do with you."

"What then? You find my name funny?" Ana's eyes narrowed.  

"Not at all. It's a great name. We were talking about you."

"Tell me why you smiled."

"It's a silly line from an old movie. My sister watched it so many times I can quote some of the scenes."

"Which ones?"

Crap. Why did women always want to dig around in a man's head? He scrubbed his hand across his eyes and tried to remember the exact phrase. "My name is something Montoya. You killed my father—"

"Prepare to die," she finished the sentence.

Ty heard hate in her tone, the deep-down guttural kind that makes people do stupid things. The line resonated with her. "You know that movie?"

"I love American movies.
The Princess Bride
is one of my favorites. Ironically, Montoya's problem pretty much sums up my story."

Glad she'd shifted the subject back to herself, Ty let her statement set for a minute as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. "Ortega killed your father, so you've sworn to kill him?"

"Let's just say my dealings with Manuel Ortega are personal."

Ty watched as her lips thinned, making the bruise more prominent. She might be small, but she was packing around a lot of hate.

"Then tell me who hit you."

"The guard outside my door. I fought when he forced me into the room."

Ana rolled over on her side, turning her back to Ty. He didn't push for more information for a couple of reasons. One, her past wasn't any of his business. Two, she might decide to dig around in his psyche again. So he turned down the lantern and tried to get comfortable in the cramped space.

The hot, stuffy cave offered no circulation, which was probably why she wiggled and squirmed. All that movement was hard for his body to ignore. He rolled a few feet and pushed a couple of palm fronds away from the entrance. The breeze was thick with moisture, but within minutes, her body stilled. He'd made the right decision even if it meant he'd have to stay more alert.

He'd rest when he got home.

"I have to know if Ortega's dead." Her voice came soft in the darkness. "If he's not, I have to kill him."

"If you're asking me to take you back, it's out of the question." Ty felt a pang of sympathy for her. She was obsessed with Ortega to the point of being irrational.

"Think about it. If Ortega isn't dead, he will eventually go see what's left of the compound. You watched the place for days and nobody saw you. We can do it again."

"Not. We have a three-day window to reach the river. If we're late, we're screwed."

"Do people call you Tyrell or Ty?"

He paused at such an odd question. "Depends on who you're talking to. Friends from college have hung on to Tyrell, but the military shortened it to Ty. Why?" 

"I'm not calling you Tyrell. It's too long a name for someone with such a short temper."

"You haven't seen my temper." The darkness provided cover for the smile that tugged at his mouth. "Yet."

"You just don't get it."

The rain slowed to a drizzle, and her breathing leveled out. He did "get it." Only he'd never had the opportunity to seek revenge for his sister's death. Dallas police had long since classified her murder as a cold case.

He wasn’t taking any chances on a woman being killed on his watch. Not while he had a breath left in his body.

****

Ana's eyelids opened with a start. During the night, she must've decided she needed a pillow because her head was resting on Ty's still-damp chest. His lungs rose and fell under her cheek. His breath fluttered across the top of her head with each exhale. Normally, the idea of waking up this close to a gorgeous man would please her. Not today.

Regardless of the three-day window to get to the river, she had to make sure Ortega wasn't walking around unharmed. The cartel would cut a new road, because he'd insist on seeing the damage to assess the possibility of rebuilding once the area was secure. Ty's refusal to negotiate proved his priorities were light-years away from hers.

She wasn't stupid. She had to think this through. Even if it were possible to find her way back, going alone was suicidal. No doubt, if he had an inkling she was considering taking off, he’d throw her over his shoulder again and haul her wherever he intended to go.

A feeling of heavy weight pressed down on her shoulders.

Half expecting Ty to stir, she scooted off his firm shoulder inch-by-inch, and lay motionless for a few minutes, studying his profile. Her brain locked up, refusing to process facts. As hard as she tried, she couldn't put a name on the American TV star Ty reminded her of, but the image of the hunk from
Criminal Minds
was clear in her mind.

Ana rose, carefully lifted each boot and shook before she pulled them on. She stuffed the Beretta in the waistband of her jeans and crept into the open to clear her head. Every muscle ached from yesterday's forced march and being cramped inside the cave. Stretching her arms and legs and twisting her stiff torso felt wonderful.

The rain had stopped, leaving behind a shiny new day. Greens of every shade shimmered as droplets of water clung to the flora and fauna. An occasional ray of sun made it all the way to the ground to highlight flowers. Ana reminded herself the jungle was a beautiful but deadly place to be stranded.

The mat of dead leaves and tangled vines underfoot had turned into mush. A distinct disadvantage when she ventured a couple of steps and her boots sank ankle deep. Her spirit dropped to the bottom of her stomach. Ty was right. The shower had obliterated their trail. She would never find her way back alone.  

This was a treacherous time of the day because every living thing was either hunting or searching for water. A big cat roared in the distance. She was a poor judge of distance. The feline could be close or miles away. The tendons in Ana's neck twisted and tied in knots. Trees filled with squawking birds silenced long enough to decide if the jaguar or tiger was far enough away.

She used the murmur from overhead as a barometer to decide how far to venture in search of a secure yet private place to relieve herself. She pulled her foot out of the mush. The ground made a slurping sound. Movement caught her attention.  

An anaconda slid from under the leaves. It lifted its head and watched her. Ana got the feeling she might be on the menu. She tried to run backward but found her elbows caught by two strong hands. She screamed at the same time she was lifted off the ground.

"Shh. You'll scare it." Ty moved back a couple of steps. She dangled like that until the snake, taking its own sweet time, slithered away.

She shouldn't have screamed, because everything had gone quiet again.

"Scare it? You both frightened the hell out of me," she said. The staccato-like pounding of her heart reverberated in her ears. "Why didn't you kill the darn thing?"

"I don't kill innocents." Ty's chin rested on top of her head, and shards of heat circled through her. "You weren't thinking about running off and leaving. Were you?"

"I was
thinking
about finding a place to pee."

She took the sound rumbling from him to be a laugh as he lowered her to the ground.

"Let me look around. Can't have you running into the anaconda's mate."

"I'm not stupid. I might not have grown up in the jungle, but I've heard enough stories to know how dangerous it is."

He sighed again, pouring fuel on her already heated temper. "And stop that," she insisted.

"Stop what? Keeping you alive?"

"That put-upon sigh you do." She imitated him.

A crack of a smile, which she assumed to mean "whatever," crept up his cheeks before he turned and walked away.  

God, he was irritating. Gorgeous but infuriating. "I'm aware that I'm an inconvenience. I get that I messed up your 'plan.' "

He stopped, spun around and pinned her with his gaze. "Plan be damned. Once it was determined your life was in jeopardy, you became my priority. Blowing the compound was secondary. Wait here."

Ty's boots didn't sink nor did he seem to have trouble walking as he stalked away and disappeared into the heavy brush. Her desire to dislike him fizzled like dying embers in the pouring rain. His eyes had been so full of pain and passion when he talked, no way could she doubt his sincerity and determination to keep her safe.

He stepped into the clearing and waved her to him. "Looks like a good place over here. We need to pack up and get started. No coffee this morning."

"Pity," she grumbled on the way past, looking up at his sharp chin when he blocked her path. "What?"

"Want me to go with you?"

"Don't be disgusting."

He scowled down at her. "You've heard the cliché, 'I've got your back'? Out here, it's just being safe."

"Oh. I thought you meant...never mind what I thought. Thanks anyway."

When she returned, Ty stood exactly where she'd left him. Standing guard from a respectable distance, but close enough to help if she'd cried out.

He shouldered his heavy-looking backpack, slung both rifles over his shoulder, adjusted the holstered pistols, and then patted the huge knife hanging from his hip. Again, she wondered what in his background caused the sadness his dark eyes wore like a mantle.

He pulled the machete from behind him and a small compass from his pocket. "There's a safe place to bed down ahead. If we hurry, we can make it before dark."