Harlequin Intrigue June 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Navy SEAL Newlywed\The Guardian\Security Breach (6 page)

She'd been so blind to their deception, trusting them because they were on her team—supposedly the good guys.

Sadly, Bruce had never loved her. Their engagement had only been a front to help hide his nefarious activities. His deception had cost Tracie her ability to trust men.

Hank Derringer was the exception. If not for him and Covert Cowboys, Inc., she'd be dead. Their relentless pursuit of her and her captors saved her life. But the knowledge that the people she'd worked so closely with in the FBI had been rotten to the core had shaken her to the foundation of her beliefs.

Aside from Hank and the agents he'd assembled in CCI, Tracie didn't know who to trust. That lack of faith in humanity had led to her decision to leave the FBI and go to work for Hank, seeking truth and justice when the police, FBI, military, CIA or other government agencies couldn't seem to get it right or had their hands tied by the powers that be.

She wanted to trust Rip. Admittedly, he was slowly winning her over. After Bruce's betrayal, she'd vowed never to trust another man with her heart. Perhaps that's why she'd spoken up when she did and told Rip that a one-night stand was all she wanted. She was teetering too close to the edge with Rip as it was.

Sleep was the farthest thing from her mind. Instead of lying in the bed, moping about failed relationships and her lack of trust in humanity, she should be up, celebrating a near miss. If she'd made love to the man, she might have broken her vow to herself.

Tracie flopped onto her back and stared up at the high, coffered ceiling with the ornate chandelier hanging at the center, her yellow dress draped across a hidden camera. Her heart beat strong and steady and her mind lurched forward to the task at hand. Since sleep wasn't coming, she might as well get up and get moving.

First thing on her list was to learn more about Hector DeVita and his fortified compound. If he was an ally, good. She'd know what he had available to her and Rip in their quest to find the rebel hideout. If he turned out to be shady, then she'd at least know what they were up against.

Chapter Six

When Rip left Tracie in the shower, he knew Tracie would think he'd run away. So be it. As a SEAL, he didn't have much time at home. Why waste it on people who didn't give a damn about him? When he was not out fighting battles, he wanted to feel emotionally safe and surrounded by people who cared for and meant something to him.

In the short time he'd known Tracie, he'd come to respect her and he couldn't deny his attraction to her. But one-night stands weren't his style.

His buddies might jump at the chance, claiming life was too short to pass up an opportunity to get lucky. But that was why Rip made every connection count. And he suspected a connection with Tracie would be worth the effort to make it real. Hopping in the sack to get sex out of the way wouldn't make him forget her, or forget what they might have between them.

In the bedroom, he found that, while they'd been in the bathroom, their suitcases had been offloaded from the plane, the clothing unpacked into the dressers or hung in the walk-in closet. He checked to see if the staff had found the wadded up towels stuffed in the back of the drawer. The towels were gone, along with the devices. Damn, they were efficient and, if Hector hadn't figured out before they'd removed the equipment, he'd know now.

Rip selected a pair of light gray trousers and a white button-up shirt—he left three buttons unbuttoned at the top. Still aroused by his naked encounter with Tracie, he didn't want to further tempt himself by being there when she emerged. Slipping into a pair of expensive loafers, he left the room, pulling the door closed.

Out in the spacious hallway, he looked back the way they'd come and turned his back, choosing to search the path yet untraveled. He wandered down the hallway and pushed through a door that led out onto a terrace overlooking a large, beautifully designed infinity pool with water running over the edges in a continuous, soothing flow.

“Join me, Senor Gideon,” Hector called out from below.

For a moment, Rip didn't respond, not recognizing the use of his fake name. When he realized Hector was talking to him, Rip descended a set of wrought-iron stairs to the patio surrounding the pool.

The Honduran sat at a bistro table, an iced drink in his hand. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“Yes, thank you. Whatever you're having will be fine.”

Hector waved a hand and a servant appeared. He gave the man instructions in Spanish and the servant hurried off. With a smile he faced Rip. “My staff informs me you found my surveillance equipment.” He tipped his head. “Well done.”

“I like my privacy, even when I'm enjoying the accommodations of my host.”

Again, Hector smiled like a gracious host. “I understand perfectly. I hope you did not take offense.”

“Not at all,” Rip responded.

“Where is the lovely Senora Gideon?”

“She was tired after the flight and chose to sleep through the hottest part of the day.”

“And you don't find her company...stimulating enough to lie down with her?”

The servant appeared at that moment with a drink on a tray. He set it down in front of Rip and walked away.

Rip raised the glass and drank, then set the glass on the table. The alcohol took the bite off his irritation with Hector's questions about Tracie. “Jack and Coke. Perfect.”

Hector's lip lifted on one side, in recognition of Rip's attempt to steer him away from personal questions. Their host lifted his own drink and held it up. “To your beautiful bride.”

Raising his glass Rip tapped it to Hector's. “To my wife. She's an amazing woman, and she's mine.” He stared hard over his glass at the man across from him.

His host raised his other hand and chuckled. “How is it you say? Message received?”

Rip relaxed against the back of his chair. “Hank didn't tell us much about you, only that you were a shrewd businessman, the best in security in Central America and somewhat of a ladies' man.”

Hector shrugged, the movement smooth and elegant. “I am a rich man. There are many women who would be happy to be with me. But it is rare to find one who isn't interested in only my money.”

“And you think Phyllis isn't interested in my money?”

His head canted to the side as Hector considered Rip's question. “It is said that the eyes are the window into a woman's soul. Your wife loves you. She may not know yet how much she does, but it is clear.”

If only.
Rip bit down hard on the inside of his mouth to keep from blurting out that he didn't have her love and he wasn't in love, though the thought of loving Tracie appealed to him. Not many women would understand the life he led.

Having been assigned to different tasks all over as an FBI agent, Tracie was aware of what it was like to be away from home for long periods of time. Some women wouldn't understand when he couldn't come home for months at a time. Tracie would. Hell, she might be out on assignments of her own.

But what was he thinking? When they had the information they needed and traced the weapons sales back to their source, this gig was up.

His belly tightened.

He'd go his way. Tracie would go hers.

Rip leaned forward. “Hank said he was sending two bodyguards to accompany us while we're out looking at potential properties.”

Hector nodded. “He informed me of his plan. He also said you might need more protection and to provide for you only the best and to bill him. I've set aside four of my most trusted men to accompany you. If you like, I can go with you, as well.”

Rip held up his hand. “I wouldn't want to take you away from your day-to-day operations.”

“It is no problem. I grow bored sitting in my little oasis. So tell me. What is it you're looking for?”

Having done a little research, Rip leaned forward like an eager entrepreneur. “I'm interested in owning my own coffee plantation.” Drawing on the satellite images Hank's tech guy had sent plus his own knowledge of the area in question, he proceeded. “My sources told me that there is a coffee plantation near the small town of Colinas Rocosa. From what I've read, they've been successful with rudimentary irrigation techniques. I want to see their operation and the land surrounding it for the potential to expand.”

Hector's eyes narrowed. “I am familiar with that area. Carmelo Delgado is the owner that plantation, and it is surrounded by jungle and a river. I seriously doubt Senor Delgado will sell. The plantation has been in his family for a very long time. It is also a very dangerous area.
Los
Rebeldes del Diablo
are known to run the land. I can show you other coffee plantations not nearly so close to trouble.”

Rip shook his head. “The other areas are far more expensive. If I can get this coffee plantation at the price I want, I can afford to expand operations.”

“Can you afford to pay
Los Rebeldes del Diablo
to keep them from killing you or your workers?”

Pretending to consider Hector's words, Rip tipped his head to the side and touched his chin. “You run a security firm. I could hire your services to protect my interests.”

Hector shook his head. “I provide bodyguards for wealthy business owners and their families. I install expensive surveillance equipment in warehouses, stores and homes. I am not equipped to guard entire plantations against
Los
Rebeldes del Diablo
. They are an army unto themselves.”

“If you won't do it. I'll take care of it myself.”

“How?”

“I'll hire mercenaries to stand guard over the land.” Rip narrowed his eyes. “Or I'll pay the tithe to
Los Rebeldes del Diablo
. In the meantime will you provide the bodyguards I need to protect me and my wife so that we can get to the plantation?”

“Surely, you are not considering taking your wife with you? It is suicide.”

“My wife is quite aware of the dangers. She has a gun and knows how to use it.”

“Then not only will she be in danger of attacks by
Los
Rebeldes del Diablo
, but if she is caught by the authorities carrying a weapon, she will be thrown in jail.” Hector held up a hand. “Honduran jails are no place for Senora Gideon.”

“Did I hear my name?” Tracie stepped out of the house onto the tiled decking.

Rip noted she wore thin, harem pants in a pale cream and a silky watermelon-pink blouse that draped her breasts and tiny waist, emphasizing her curves rather than hiding them. Rip's pulse picked up and his fingers clenched into a fist to keep himself from reaching out to her.

Hector stood and pulled a chair out for her, pushing it in as she settled on the cushion. “You did. I was just enlightening your husband on the dangers of traveling in the countryside.”

“Are the guerillas still active in this area?” Tracie asked.

Hector nodded. “You did take note of the fences and concertina wire you had to pass through to get here, did you not? These precautions are necessary to protect what is mine.”

“We are prepared to take the risk.” Tracie smiled at their host and leaned back in her chair, crossing one slender leg over the other. “Hank is sending two of his best bodyguards.”

Hector's jaw hardened. “It won't be enough.”

“Hank said that you would augment our protection with whatever else we would need. And we'll need transportation, too.”

A muscle in Hector's jaw ticked. “I can provide the SUVs and four men to escort you. I advise you to travel in the daylight and not linger too long in one place. If you don't announce that you are coming, you have a better chance of getting in and out without being accosted.” Hector waved his hand. “Unless, of course,
Los
Rebeldes del Diablo
have checkpoints set up on the roads. In which case, you should turn around and get out of there as fast as you can.”

Tracie inhaled and slowly released the breath... “Understood.”

His lips thinning into a straight line, Hector snarled. “You may
think
you understand. These men are ruthless. They cut down a woman and a six-year-old child while I watched helplessly from my office window in Tegucigalpa.”

Tracie laid a hand over Hector's. “I'm so sorry.”

Though Rip could appreciate her compassion, he didn't like the way Hector turned his hand upright and gripped Tracie's. But he held his tongue.

Hector continued, his head down, his gaze where his hand held Tracie's. “They are ruthless and have no regard for life, and no remorse. All they know is how to threaten and follow through with their threats by killing anyone who crosses their paths.”

“Why don't the people rise up against them?”

“The guerillas are armed. The citizens of Honduras are not. And the citizens value the lives of their loved ones. If they try to fight against the guerillas,
Los
Rebeldes del Diablo
steal their wives, husbands and children and kill them or hold them for ransom.”

“That's terrible.” Tracie's brows tugged together.

“So you see, if you want to look at a coffee plantation, I implore you—look somewhere else. Perhaps another country.”

Rip leaned back, his arms crossing over his chest. “I know I can make this work. I'm not afraid of the
Diablos
.”

“You should be.” Hector shifted his gaze to Tracie. “If not for your own sake, then for your wife's.”

Tracie smiled reassuringly. “Chuck will protect me. I'm sure we will be okay surveying the plantation. After all, we'll go during the daylight and return here before dark.”

“
Los
Rebeldes del Diablo
do not confine their terror to the shroud of darkness. They have been known to walk into a restaurant or café in the middle of the day and kill everyone in it.”

“Then we will stay out of restaurants. Tomorrow Chuck and I want to see
le Plantación de Ángel
coffee plantation.”

With a sigh, Hector stood. “I can see that you are not to be dissuaded. I will inform my men that they will ride with you or follow you to the plantation and remain there until you return.”

“Thank you, Hector.” Tracie glanced at the man. “I can only imagine the anguish you felt at witnessing the deaths of that mother and child. It's such a senseless act to kill innocents.”

Hector slowed on his way back into the house and turned again to face them. “Honduras is my home, but sometimes I hate it so much I wish to leave. I will have my assistant make arrangements for your visit to the plantation. Hank's bodyguards are scheduled to fly in tonight. I will not be at dinner, but my staff will see to your meal. Dinner is served at seven.” He didn't wait for a response, disappearing inside the house.

* * *

T
RACIE
STARED
AFTER
the owner
of the hacienda, her heart tight in her chest. “He could be right. Perhaps it is too dangerous to go in broad daylight.”

“I want to see how many eyes and ears are employed by the rebel leader and how far out they are stationed,” Rip said. “We need to know where they get their groceries and supplies. In order to find out where those boxes full of weapons came from, we have to find members of the
Diablos
and follow them back to their camp.”

“Yeah, but wouldn't it be better to sneak in under cover of nightfall and do the same?”

“They will have moved from their last location after our attempt to extract the DEA agent. We don't have their coordinates and, most likely, they've chosen a well-concealed spot in the jungle, beneath the canopy and out of view of our satellites.”

“Couldn't you get satellite images that show heat signatures?” Tracie asked.

“I'm sure military intelligence is working on it, but there are miles and miles of jungle out there to scan. In the meantime, we could have already found the camp, located a name and traced it back to whoever is selling the weapons to them.”