Cold Day In Hell (6 page)

Except for a few strands, her brown hair had worked its way out of the knot she'd forced it into, and had fallen in thick waves around her shoulders. On her, disheveled looked good.

Shit, her hair was of zero interest to him. The sooner the bastards on the ground moved out, the quicker he could get her moving and deliver her to safety. The clock was ticking, and the window of escaping safely was narrowing. Would Jack Fury wait? How long could he stay at the dock before the wrong people noticed him hanging around?

"Let's have a look at your knee."

Ty crawled to her side, noting the injury was on the same leg as the sprain. Resting the backpack next to her, he fished out his knife and slit her jeans. The scratch ran higher so he tugged and the material ripped too far.

"Sorry," he said to her gasp. He dug out the first aid kit, cleaned, and bandaged the scrape. The delicate curves and softness of her skin hadn't escaped Ty's notice, and he suppressed the urge to run his fingers down her calf. Drawing on self-control, he reached to straighten her jeans when he noticed a scar. An old one, thin and jagged, just the tip exposed. How had this happened? Better yet, who'd done this to her?

"Do we have enough water?" she asked.

"There's plenty," he lied, passing her one of the canteens. He'd counted on filling them from the small waterfall that fed the pond. He had enough to keep her hydrated, and he'd be fine until the tribesmen moved on tomorrow. "Next time you get thirsty speak up. Can't have you dehydrating."  

Ty stretched out beside her and stared up toward the seldom-seen sky. A breeze moved through, spreading the leaves overhead and offering a hint of blue and a welcome relief. The break was short-lived, and minutes later the air again went still.  

Doing nothing was the hardest part of waiting, add to that the fact they were virtually captives and time passed slower. The only bright side was Ana's injuries would have a chance to start healing. She shifted to her side and propped her head in her hand. He recognized the sign. She wanted to chat. He didn't do chats.

Ty closed his eyes, feigning sleep.

"So what's your story?" she asked.

Damn. She was too smart to think he'd taken an afternoon snooze. "Don't have one."

"That's not true. What happened in your past that makes you risk your life for strangers?"

"Getting a little nosy, aren't you?"

"What else are we supposed to do except talk and watch for snakes?"

Ty rolled to face her. He struggled to keep the smile under control and his sexy thoughts to himself. "My first idea would get my face slapped, so I'll go with my second. You can tell me why you're hell-bent to see Manuel Ortega dead."

Confusion played across her face for a split second before an I-know-where-your-dirty-mind-was smile tugged at her mouth, which only served to send him deeper into his now-blooming fantasy of kissing her until she came undone in his arms. When she didn't respond to his question, he pressed.

"According to your file, a couple of years ago you started lobbying the government to take a stronger stand against the cartels. Ortega being your primary target. What makes you think you have the wherewithal to take on a drug lord?"

"What makes you think I want to talk about myself?"

"Don't do that. You started this conversation." No way was Ty offering up his past for her to dissect. He intended to keep this conversation directed toward her. "Your accent isn't as heavy as the guards' at the compound. Your speech indicates you're well educated, and from what I've read, most Colombians aren't privileged and don't have a lot of schooling. How'd you manage that?"

She stared at him. Did he imagine a flare of interest? Her gaze raked across his face, leaving heat trails. It was as if she searched for something. Damn, there was that urge to drag her into his arms. Had it been so long since he'd had a woman that his mind kept drifting? Yeah, it had.

"I thought the FBI gave you my background."

"Only what you were involved in today. They didn't share the personal stuff."

She remained silent. For a minute Ty thought she'd refuse to share anymore information.

"I'd been in Europe since I was thirteen. Sent away for my own safety. But I couldn't stay. I had a promise to keep."

"What kind of promise?"

Rapid gunfire, shouting, and screams filtered up from below, ending their conversation. Ty rose, taking the rifle with him. Balanced on the platform of tree limbs, he extended his hand and helped her to her feet.

The uproar ended as quickly as it had begun, followed by gut-wrenching moans and then total quiet. The commotion had silenced even the smallest insects.

"That sounded like a small war." Her hand gripped his arm.

"Except the natives didn't have guns." He had to go run surveillance, but the panic in her eyes stopped him. "Sounded more like a massacre to me."

"You think Ortega's men might have found us?" Ana's words faded to a whisper.

Ty's automatic fight response was instantly replaced with a powerful need to shield her from danger. Engulfing her in his arms, he felt her heart pounding against him. Unlike his sister, Ana would not suffer because of his bad decisions.

He pulled her further away from the sounds of death and waited until she quit shaking.

The last of daylight was fading, and he had to act before darkness. He pushed hair off her face. "I have to go look. You'll be safer if you stay here."

"You're not leaving me behind. Not again." Her fingers knotted in his sweaty shirt.

The noise returned. This time it sounded like partying. He had to get going. Ty pulled the compass from his pocket, extricated one of her hands, and rested it on her palm.

"Keep the Beretta and satellite phone. If something happens to me, stay put until you're sure it's safe and then go north to the river. This piece-of-junk phone has been nothing but trouble. You have to find a clearing. The minute you do, call for help. Stay out of sight as much as you can, but do not lose this. You have two days. Understand? When you reach the water, go west until you come to a village. Ask for Santiago. There's not but one small dock, so finding Jack Fury should be easy."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Just in case. Fury's FBI. Trust only him and the voice on the sat phone."

Tears welled in her eyes. "You'll be back."

For the third time in two days, he prepared to leave her behind. Her gaze was steady and full of resolve, expecting reassurance, no doubt.

"You're right. It's information you won't need." He used his index finger to lift her chin higher. "See you soon."

"Promise?"

Hell. There were no guarantees, and he hated to lie to her. But his answer would be for her benefit. "Promise."

Creeping up and down these tree limbs was getting old. Reconnaissance would tell him what had happened below and if he could move Ana.

They ran the risk of being left behind if they strayed off schedule. Fury hanging around would draw attention. Just like Ty and Ana waiting for another extraction run would be noticed.

He crossed over to an area where he could see the ground. "Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath.

Dead natives were strewn everywhere, their bodies scattered in awkward positions, faces contorted with either surprise or pain. It was easy to figure out what had happened. They had been empty-handed when attacked. Their weapons were still sheathed or resting against tree trunks. The tribesmen had been mercilessly slaughtered.

Ty counted five waristas. Ana was right in her assumption. Ortega's men must've found the trail he'd cut. One particularly familiar guy walked around, kicking the dead, probably to ensure no one still breathed. Ty caught enough Spanish to understand the men had been ordered to search for anything of value. If found, the loot was to be brought to the head guard.

Damn, Ty hated to start a gunfight. Gunfire brought friends—unwanted ones. Who knew if this was the entire complement of guards? More of these crazy bastards might be outside the perimeter where they'd remain unseen. 

The apparent leader found some of the natives' food and made himself at home. One man complained about being hungry and was instructed to drag the dead into the jungle.

Ty had to end this. The longer he put off taking out the murdering bastards, the bigger the chance of discovery. He shifted the HK416 for easier firing and left the AK-47 shouldered and moved lower. Closer. Steadying himself on a small but sturdy limb.

One of the celebrating waristas stumbled, rolled, and landed flat on his back. His eyes opened wide, and he screeched loudly, pointing in Ty's direction. Ty shut him up with a bullet.  

The leader sprayed bullets the general direction of the shot. Thankfully, these guys weren't known for their marksmanship, and the bullets went wide. Ty cut him down.

Bullets breezed past, sending shards of bark flying and Ty scrambling for cover. Judging from the sting on his cheek, he'd been nicked by flying debris. Based on the direction of the bullet, he'd been right about the possibility of a guard standing out of sight, and this one had a clear line of vision. He also had piss-poor luck because he was about to die.

Ty got low and moved to a larger branch just in the nick of time. A rain of gunfire turned the leaves around where he'd sat into confetti.

The report of a gun blasted from behind. One of the men on the ground crumpled as if his bones had liquefied.

Ty whirled, his eyes searching for her. There. Body pressed flat against a limb, Ana gave him a quick nod before turning her attention back to the fight. She was taking heavy fire from the rest of the group. Shit. She was about to get herself killed.

Ty took advantage of the attention being on her and turned the automatic rifle on the remaining men. One steady burst and two of the remaining men fell.

He didn't look at Ana when the last man dropped face-first. Damn, she was as good with a Beretta 9 mil as any man he'd served with in Afghanistan.

He scanned the perimeter. Were there more lurking in the shadows? He doubted it. He had to be sure.

"Stay put." He mouthed the words and received a vehement headshake.

"I'm coming with you."

"Damn, woman. Stay here and cover me."

That got him the nod he needed. He rushed downward and then dropped to the ground. Terra firma felt good under his boots as he quickly moved into the dense jungle.

He waited. Patience was a virtue in these situations. One he struggled with because he needed to get Ana and move out.

The rustle of undergrowth alerted him seconds before two men rushed into the open and began spraying the foliage with bullets. Ty fired once.

Both men went down. What the hell? Ana had fired at the same time he had. The woman was one hell of a shot. His respect for her ramped up another notch.

Jesus, dead bodies were everywhere. He'd seen massacres before and this one was no different. More innocent than guilty usually lost their lives. This op had turned into a clusterfuck. He got that she wanted revenge, but she'd gone on a fool's journey and had been caught. He vacillated between wishing he could help her and his desire to get her to Bogota so he could get out of Colombia.

"Coming down," she said.

Ty moved to the base of the tree and waited for her descent. He had a couple of ways in mind as to how he'd like to thank her. First, he ought to spank her for not following his instructions and staying put. Her shapely legs came into view, and he forgot to be pissed that she'd put her safety at risk. Jesus, he had to get her to the river.

If Ortega didn't hear from his men soon, he'd send a new group. He couldn't allow her to live and retell her story of how she'd escaped. A drug lord had to protect his reputation. To maintain control, people had to fear him, and letting a woman get the best of him wasn't an option. That thought put a whole new spin on Ty refusing to help her make sure Ortega died.

Ty caught Ana by the waist and set her on the ground. "Let's fill up the canteens and get out of here."

"You can thank me for saving your life later." Her gaze turned serious and locked onto his face. "You're injured."

"A scratch." He tried to turn, but she placed her hand on his cheek and inspected the cut.

"Not a scratch. A splinter. That has to come out."

"Later, Dr. Cisneros."

"Give me that ointment from your kit."

"Not now." Damn, she was a bossy woman. The set of her jaw indicated she was used to getting her way. This was one argument they didn't have time for. "We need to move."

"Be still," she ordered.

Before he could protest more, she pulled a small shard of tree limb from his cheek. "Ouch." He growled at the satisfied smirk on her face. "You enjoyed that."

"Now we can go." She waved her hand for him to move out. "Lead on." She flashed pearly white teeth.

"Remind me later to kick your cute butt."
Shit. He wanted his words back the minute they hit the air.

"You think my butt's cute?" Her eyebrows rose upward in a challenge.

"That doesn't mean I'm not going to kick it."

"'Remind me later to let you try," she shot back, using his words. "You'll find I fight dirty."

With her shoulders back, head held high, she almost glowed. It was survivor's high. One Ty recognized all too well from his years as a Ranger. It was a luxury she couldn't afford. Too many people let their guard down during a moment of euphoria over a victory. Some got themselves killed.

"It's okay to be confident. It's suicidal to be cocky."

Chapter Five

"I understand this is life or death." Ana fought to keep her temper in check. A man like Ty probably didn't understand that "cocky" was her way to hide the fear boiling through her veins.

"Let's take advantage of the fresh water." He shifted his rifle to the back of his shoulder, knelt down, and rinsed off his face and hands before scrubbing the blood from his cheek. After filling two canteens, he put the lid on one and passed the other to her.