Her Kind of Hero (16 page)

He arched above her, groaning. His eyes held hers as he moved slowly, carefully. He watched her wince and he hesitated. He moved again, and she bit her lip. He moved one more time, and she tensed and then suddenly relaxed, so unexpectedly that his possession of her was complete in one involuntary movement.

It was incredible, he thought, his body as taut as steel as he looked down into her wide, curious eyes with awe as he became her lover. He could feel her, like a warm silk glove. She was a virgin. He was having her. She was giving herself. He moved experimentally, and her lips parted on a helpless breath.

His lean hands slid under her dark hair and cradled her head while he began to move on her. One of his thighs pushed at hers, nudging it further away from the throbbing center of her body. The motion lifted her against him in a blind grasp at pleasure.

“I never thought…it would be you,” she whispered feverishly.

“I never thought it would be anyone else,” he replied, his eyes hot and narrow and unblinking. “I watched you when I went completely into you,” he whispered and smiled when she gasped. “Now, you can watch me,” he murmured roughly. “Watch me. I'll let you see…everything I feel!”

She shivered as his hips began to move sinuously, more insistently, increasing the pleasure.

He caught one of her hands and drew it between them, coaxing it back to his body. He groaned at the contact and guided her fingers to the heart of him.

She let him teach her. It was so sweet, to lie naked in his arms, and watch him make love to her. He was incredibly tender. He gave her all the time in the world before he became insistent, before his kisses devoured, before his hand pinned her hips and his whole body became an instrument of the most delicious torture. He looked down at her with blazing dark eyes, his face clenched in passion, his body shivering with urgency as he poised over her.

“Don't close your eyes,” he groaned when stars were exploding in his head. “I want to see them…the very second…that you go over the edge under me!”

The words were as arousing as the sharp, violent motion of his hips as he began to drive into her. She thought he became even more potent as the tempo and the urgency increased. He held her eyes until she became blind with the first stirrings of ecstasy and her sharp, helpless cry of surprised pleasure was covered relentlessly by his mouth.

She writhed under him, sobbing with the sensation of fulfillment, her body riveted to his as convulsions made her ripple like a stormy wave. She clutched his upper arms, her nails
biting in, as the ripples became almost painful in their delight. Seconds later, she felt him climax above her. His harsh, shuddering groan was as alien a sound as her own had been seconds before. She wrapped her arms around him and held on for dear life, cuddling him, cradling him, as he endured the mindless riptide and finally, finally, went limp and heavy in her arms with a whispery sigh.

“You looked at me…when it happened,” she whispered with wonder. “And I saw you, I watched you.” She shivered, holding him tight. Her body rippled with the tiny movement, and she laughed secretly and moaned as she felt the pleasure shoot through her. “Do it again,” she pleaded. “Make me scream this time…!”

He was still shivering. “Oh, God,…no!” he bit off. “Be still!” He held her down, hard, drawing in a sharp breath as he fought the temptation to do what she asked. He closed his eyes and his teeth clenched as he jerked back from her abruptly.

She gasped as his weight receded. There was a slight discomfort, and then he was on his feet beside the bed, grabbing up his boxer shorts with a furious hand.

She stared at him with diminishing awareness. She was deliciously relaxed. She felt great. Why was he cursing like that. She blinked vacantly. “You're very angry. What's wrong?”

“What's wrong!” He turned to look down at her. She was sprawled nude in glorious abandon, looking so erotic that he almost went to his knees with the arousal that returned with a vengeance.

She smiled lazily and yawned. “Gosh, that was good. So good!” Her eyelids felt very heavy. She sprawled even more comfortably. “Even better than the last time.”

“What last time?” he demanded, outraged.

She yawned again. “That other dream,” she mumbled, rolling onto her side. “So many dreams. So embarrassing. So erotic! But this was the best dream, though. The very…best…”

Her voice trailed away and he realized all at once that she'd fallen asleep. She didn't understand what had happened. She'd been full of sedative and she'd let him seduce her, thinking she was just dreaming. She thought the whole thing was nothing more than another dream. No wonder she hadn't protested!

“God in heaven, what have I done!” he asked her oblivious form. There was a smear of blood on the white sheet.

Micah ground his teeth together and damned his lack of control. He hadn't had a woman in a very long time, and he'd wanted Callie since the day he'd met her. But that was no excuse for taking advantage of her while she was under the influence of a sedative. Even if she had come on to him with the most incredibly erotic suggestions. He'd seduced her and that was that.

He went to the bathroom, wet a washcloth and bathed her body as gently as he could. She was sleeping so soundly that she never noticed a thing. He put her briefs and gown back on her and put her under the sheet. He'd have to hope she didn't notice the stain, or, if she did, assumed it was an old one.

He dressed, hating himself, and went out of the room after checking the security net. He still had to go after Lopez, and now his mind was going to be full of Callie sobbing with pleasure under the crush of his body. And what if there were consequences?

W
ith a face as grim as death, Micah pulled on his black wet suit and fins and checked the air in his tanks and the mouthpiece and face mask. He sheathed the big knife he always carried on covert missions. To the belt around his waist, he attached a waterproof carry pack. He'd interrogated one of the men, who'd been far too intimidated not to tell him what he wanted to know about Lopez's setup on the yacht, the number and placement of his men and his firepower.

“I should go with you,” Rodrigo told him firmly.

“You can't dive,” Micah said. “Besides, this is a one-man job. If I don't make it, it will be up to you and Bojo to finish it. But whatever happens,” he added curtly, and with a threatening stare. “don't let them get Callie.”

“I won't. I swear it,” Rodrigo said heavily.

“Tell Bojo where I've gone after I've gone, but only after I'm gone,” he added. “Don't let him follow me.” He picked up a
small device packed with plastique and shoved it into the waterproof bag on his belt and sealed it.

“Once you set the trigger, you'll only have a few minutes to get free of the ship. If the engines fire up while you're placing the bomb, you'll be chum,” Rodrigo said worriedly. “You already look exhausted. Even if everything goes right, how will you make that swim and turn around and come back in time?”

“If I can't get free in that amount of time, I'm in the wrong business,” he told Rodrigo. “I'd disgrace my expensive government training. How many men on the yacht right now?”

Rodrigo nodded toward the yacht, which had just come into view in the past ten minutes. It was out very far, almost undetectable without exotic surveillance devices. But they had a device that used a heat sensor with a telescopic lens, and they could see inside the ship. “The crew, Lopez, and six henchmen. It's suicide to do this alone.”

“I'm not letting him try again,” he said shortly, and his eyes were blazing. “I've put Callie's life at risk already, because I was arrogant enough to think she was safe here. She could have been killed tonight while I was asleep in my bed. I won't get over that in a hurry. I'm not going to give her to Lopez, no matter what it costs me.” He put a hand on Rodrigo's shoulder. “Listen to me. If anything goes wrong, you tell Bojo that I want him to take care of her from now on. There's enough money in my Swiss account to support her and my father for life, in any style they like. You tell Bojo I said to see that she gets it, less the sum we agreed on for all of you. Promise me!”

“Of course I promise.” Rodrigo's eyes narrowed. “You look…different.”

I've just seduced a virgin who thinks she was having an erotic dream,
he thought with black humor.
No wonder I look different.
“It's been a long night,” he said. “Call the police an hour from now.” He looked at his expensive commando watch, the one with a tiny sharp knife blade that could be released from the edge of the face with a light touch. “Coming up on fourteen hundred and ten hours…almost…almost…hack!”

Rodrigo had set his watch to the same time. He gave Micah a long, worried look as the taller man put on his face mask and adjusted the mouthpiece.

“Dios te protégé,”
Rodrigo said gently. God protect you.

Micah smiled and put the mouthpiece in. Seconds later, he was in the water, under the water, headed out toward the yacht. It was a distance of almost half a mile, and Rodrigo was uneasy. But Micah had been a champion swimmer in his school days, and he held some sort of record for being able to hold his breath underwater. He looked very tired, though, and that was going to go against him. Odd, Rodrigo thought, that a man who'd just gotten out of bed should look exhausted. And after the culprits had been dealt with so quickly and effectively, which couldn't have tired him. He hoped Micah would succeed. He checked his watch, glanced at the bound and gagged captives in their underwear, and shrugged.

“How sad for you,
compadres,
that your futures will be seen through vertical bars. But, then, your choice of employer leaves so much to be desired!”

He turned away, recalling that Micah had told him to phone the police an hour after he'd gone. But he hesitated to do that, orders or not. Timing was going to be everything here. If there was a holdup planting the charge, and if Lopez had someone on the payroll in Nassau, the show was over. Lopez would get
word of the failed kidnapping attempt in time to blow Micah out of the water. Micah couldn't have been thinking straight. Rodrigo would do that for him. He would watch Micah's back. Now he prayed that his boss could complete this mission without discovery. If ever a man deserved his fate, it was Manuel Lopez. He gave Mexicans a bad name, and for that alone Rodrigo was anxious to see him go down.

 

It took Micah a long time to reach the boat. He was exhausted from the mindless pleasure Callie had given him. Making love with her just before the most dangerous mission of recent years had to be evidence of insanity. But it had been so beautiful, so tender. He could still hear her soft, surprised cries of pleasure. The memory was the sort a man wouldn't mind going down into the darkness for. Of course, it wasn't helping him focus on the task at hand. He forcibly put the interlude to the back of his mind and swam on.

He paused as he reached the huge yacht, carefully working his way toward the huge propellers at the stern, which were off right now but would start again eventually. If they started while he was near them, he'd be caught in their turbulent wake and dragged right into those cruel blades to be dismembered before he set the charge.
Not
the end he hoped for.

He kept himself in place with slow movements of his fins while he shone an underwater light hooked to his belt on the bomb package enclosed in the waterproof bag. He drew it out, very carefully, and secured it to a metallic connection behind the propellers. It stuck like glue. He positioned the light so that he could work with his hands while he wired the charge into the propeller system. It was meticulous work, and he was really tired. But he finally secured the connection and double-checked
the explosive package. Yes. The minute the turbine engines fired, the ship would blow up.

The problem was, he was almost too tired to swim back. He was going to have to give himself thirty minutes to get back to the shore, and pray that Lopez didn't have his men fire up those propellers until he was out of harm's way.

He gave the ship's hull a gentle pat, with a momentary twinge of regret at having to destroy such a beautiful yacht. Then he turned and moved slowly, cautiously, around toward the bow of the ship. There was a ladder hanging down from the side. He passed it with idle curiosity and held onto it while he floated, letting his body relax and rest. He just happened to look up while he was hanging from it.

Just above the surface, a man was aiming an automatic weapon down at him through the water.

He couldn't get away. He was too tired. Besides, the man wasn't likely to miss at this range. Salute the flag and move on, he mused philosophically. Nobody lived forever, and his death would serve a noble cause. All he had to do was make them think he'd come aboard to use the knife on Lopez, so they wouldn't start looking for bombs. They had enough time to find and disarm it if he didn't divert them. The waterproof bag on his hip was going to be hard to explain. So was his flashlight. Fortunately the light fit into the bag and weighed it down. He unhooked the bag and closed it out of sight while the man above motioned angrily for him to come up the ladder. He let the bag drop and it sank even as he started the climb to his own death. He might get a chance at Lopez before they killed him, because Lopez would want to gloat.

He padded onto the deck in his breathing equipment and fins, which the man ordered him in Spanish to take off.

Micah tossed his gear aside, carefully, because the man with the gun was nervous. If he had any chance at all to escape, he could make the distance without his equipment if he swam—assuming he wasn't shot to death in the process. He had to hope for a break, but it wasn't likely. This was the situation that every working mercenary had to consider when he chose the lifestyle. Death could come at any moment, unexpectedly.

He stood glaring down at the smaller man. Even with his automatic weapon, the drug lord's man didn't seem too confident. He backed up two more steps. Micah noted the hasty retreat and tensed to make his move. But only seconds later, Lopez and two more men—armed men—came up on deck.

Lopez stared at Micah for a minute and then recognition flashed in his dark eyes. “Micah Steele, I presume,” he drawled in accented English. He put his hands behind him and walked around Micah like an emperor inspecting a new slave. “You lack proficiency, don't you? Were you planning to use this on me while I slept?” he added, jerking the big bowie knife out of its sheath. “A nasty weapon. Very nasty.” He put the point against Micah's wet suit just below the nipple. “A hard thrust, and you cease to exist. You were careless. Now you will pay the price for it.” His face hardened. “Where are my two men that I sent to reclaim your stepsister?”

Micah smiled calmly. “The police have them by now. I expect they'll spill their guts trying to save themselves.”

“They would not dare,” Lopez said easily. “They fear me.”

“They won't fear you if you're in prison,” he replied easily. “Or dead.”

Lopez laughed. It amused him that this mercenary wasn't begging for his life. He was used to men who did.

“Your attempt at diversion serves no purpose. We both know that my men are on the way back with their captive even now. In fact,” he added with a deliberate smile, “I had a phone call just before you were discovered, telling me that she was safely bound and gagged. Your men are too numerous for them to fight, so they are hiding her some distance from your house until the coast is clear and they can get here with the boat.” He chuckled maliciously.

Micah surmised that a cell phone had been discovered on one of the men, and Rodrigo had used it to reassure Lopez. A stroke of genius, and it might have worked, if Micah hadn't been careless and let himself get captured like a raw recruit.

“I am fond of knives,” Lopez murmured, and ran his fingers over the carved bone handle almost like a caress. He looked at Micah as he traced the pattern in it. “This time, I will not give your stepsister to my men. I will use the knife on her myself.” His eyes were cold, hard, unfeeling. “I will skin her alive,” he said softly. “And with every strip that comes off, I will remind her that you were careless enough to let her be apprehended a second time.” His eyes blazed. “You invaded my home to take her from me. No one humiliates me in such a manner and lives to gloat about it. You will die and your sister will die, and in such a way that it will frighten anyone who sees it.”

Micah studied the little man with contempt, seeing the years of death and torture that had benefited Lopez. The drug lord could buy people, yachts, countries. He had enormous power. But it was power built on a foundation of greed, floored with
blood and tears. If ever a man deserved to go down, it was Lopez.

“You are very quiet, Micah Steele,” Lopez said suddenly, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I was thinking that I've never encountered anyone as evil as you, Lopez,” he said quietly. “You have no conscience at all.”

Lopez shrugged. “I am what I am,” he said simply. “In order to accumulate great wealth, one has to be willing to take great risks. I have been poor. I never want to be poor again.”

“Plenty of people prefer it to murder.”

Lopez only laughed. “You are, how is it said, stalling for time,” he said abruptly. “Are you hoping to be rescued? Or are you hoping that perhaps one of your men has checked on your stepsister and found her missing from her room? That is not likely. My men are quite expert. Playing for time will avail you nothing.”

Micah could have told him that he was using the time to rest from his exhaustive swim, marshaling his strength for an all-out assault. If they took him down, he vowed, he was at least going to take Lopez with him, even if he died with the drug lord's neck in his hands.

“Or you might think it possible to overpower all of us and escape.” He laughed again. “I think that I will wait to begin your interrogation until your stepsister is on board with us. Carlos!” he called to a henchman. “Tell the captain to start the engines and move us a little closer to the island.”

Micah's heart stopped dead, but not a trace of fear or apprehension showed on his face. Lopez was watching him very closely, as if he suspected something. Micah simply smiled, considering that it was the fortunes of war that sometimes you didn't win.
At least Callie was safe. He hadn't lost completely as long as she survived. He took a relaxing breath and waited for the explosion.

Lopez's henchman was almost up the steps to the pilothouse when Lopez wheeled suddenly.

“Wait!” Lopez called his man back suddenly and Micah fought to keep from showing his relief. “I do not trust you, Steele,” Lopez added. “I think perhaps you want me to go closer to your island, to give your men a shot at us, here on the deck. If so, you are going to be disappointed.” He turned to the man, Carlos. “Take him below and tie him up. Then I want you and Juan to take one of the boats and follow in the steps of Ramon and Jorge. They must be somewhere near the house waiting for the mercenaries to give up the search or locate it elsewhere. You can help them bring the girl back.”