Unexpected (3 page)

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 façade 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.

E
li told her to turn at the next street, then leaned back in his seat to watch her. From the moment she'd stepped into the bar,
not
watching her had been impossible.

Truth was, she fascinated him. And it wasn't just her delicate looks, which were beyond deceiving, given the way she'd handled herself at the bar. She'd thrown a man, and flushed with the sheer pleasure of it. She'd made another into a choirboy, and grinned with delight.

What a woman.

But her staunch attitudes and constant blustering had revealed, at least to him, a lot of vulnerability, too.

What type of female became a mercenary? What type of woman lived a life that made her feel so defensive? Despite her warnings, maybe because of them, he wanted to get to know her better. She was a link to his brother, reassurance at a time of uncertainty, and something about her appealed to him on the most basic level. Even though she kept telling him not to pry, she was more up front and open than anyone he'd ever met. She didn't have an ounce of guile. No, Ms. Ray Jean Vereker called 'em as she saw 'em. And she'd insulted him several times.

Not many women, from the slums of his past or the present boardroom, had ever done that.

Trying for subtlety, hoping to provoke her into giving more away, Eli smiled toward her. “You think you're pretty tough, don't you?”

Keeping her gaze on the road, she lifted one narrow, straight shoulder. “I'm tough enough when I need to be. That's all you have to worry about.”

He'd always been attracted to assertive women. Okay, so a mercenary was a bit over the top, but as he'd told her, she didn't look hardened enough for the job. If she'd had a string of rattlesnake tattoos and a mustache and a figure like a tank, maybe, just maybe the persona would be more creditable.

“You're a very attractive woman, Ray.” Her back stiffened in what he already thought of as her battle mode, and he had to bite back a laugh. “I'm not getting personal,” he assured her with grave sincerity, “just making an observation.”

He watched her gather herself, saw her tucking away her real reactions to deliver what she considered a suitable response. Her laugh sounded rusty, as if it'd been a long time since she'd felt any real humor.

What kind of life did a female mercenary lead when she wasn't on the job? Did she live as a hermit, was she a bully, or did she somehow manage to fade into regular society? Was she engaged, even married?

Without meaning to, Eli pictured all kind of awful scenarios until he shifted in his seat, disgusted with himself and his possessive thoughts.

“If someone had taken the time to tell me it was a woman they'd send me, I still wouldn't have envisioned a woman like you.”

With silky menace, she repeated, “Like me?”

“It's not an insult, Ray.” He shook his head. “In fact, it was a compliment.”

“There's more to capability than brute strength, and looks can be deceiving. But as far as trying to compliment me, don't. We'll be spending at least one night in Central America, maybe two. Trust me, I look pretty bad after a couple of days roughing it. More importantly, I don't care. I don't waste time caring.” Her dark gaze swept over him before she turned down the road that led to his building. “Remember that.”

He didn't believe her. She wanted to be cold and indifferent, but she bloomed with warmth. For whatever reasons, she just didn't want to admit it.

Minutes later, she parked the hideous, rust-covered truck in the parking garage amid the array of expensive, richly colored cars. Ray didn't seem the least bit impressed with the difference. In fact, she almost seemed contemptuous of his money.

He liked that about her.

Part of her present nasty attitude was due to surprise, he thought. She'd apparently expected some resistance on his part when she'd first shown up. What she didn't know was that he'd called her agency primarily for a guide and only secondarily for backup in case of any physical confrontations.

He could hold his own, so he didn't expect her to have to engage in any physical battles, despite her more than capable display at the bar. She knew her way in and around Central America, and that was her value. The necessity for stealth made bringing along more than one person risky, and she had the credentials to prove she was the best, so she'd have to do.

Ray walked to the front of the truck and waited for him. Long-legged, slim but with subtle curves, she had the appeal of natural, healthy good looks. She wasn't classically pretty, not with that strong jawline. But her full lips and wide, very dark eyes were quick to catch and hold attention. And that attitude . . . He smiled. Ray wielded her attitude like a sledgehammer, using it to clear the way of any resistance.

She riffled her fingers through her long, midnight black bangs, watching as he left the truck. Eli raised an inquiring brow. “Do you have a bag or anything you need for the night?”

“It's under the seat.” She cocked out a hip in an impatient pose. “I was waiting for you to get out of the way.”

Except for the few times he'd managed to take her off guard, her voice was soft and husky, seldom raised above a moderate tone. To maintain that air of control, she also kept her stance deceptively casual.

Even when she'd thrown the man at the bar, she hadn't tensed. She'd just sort of . . . maneuvered, bent the right way, and the big man had gone flying. Eli figured it was a necessary pretense on her part because she couldn't really be that calm and indifferent to the circumstances of her ability. Much of what she presented to the world was a ruse.

He intended to sift fact from fiction.

Pulling the bag out for her, he started forward, but when he reached for her arm, she casually sidestepped, evading his grasp.

To cover the nervous gesture, she said, “You're taller than I first thought.”

Eli stared down at the top of her short, glossy black hair. Usually towering over most women and a fair amount of men, he was pleased, though he didn't know why, that Ray was only about five inches shorter than him.

“I'm six-four. But you're pretty tall, too.” And then, just to tease her, he added, “For a woman.”

Somehow, when she glared at him, she managed to look him dead in the eye without seeming to tilt her head at all. He liked it. “Is this your only bag?”

“There're two changes of clothes.” Ray turned away to contemplate the building. “That's all I need.”

The bag was very light, making Eli curious. “What about shampoo and soap and . . .”

“You don't have those things?”

“Of course I do. But don't most women have their own brands? Mine might smell a bit masculine.”

She made a show of mild disgust. “We're going to a tiny, nothing village in Central America, not a formal ball. Does it matter what I smell like?”

In his defense, he'd never before met a woman who wouldn't care. At the moment, she smelled like . . . warm, soft woman, and that was about as good as it got.

To lighten her mood, he said, “You do have your own toothbrush, don't you?”

“I have my own toothbrush,” she agreed. Then she turned toward him. “You don't live here.”

Eli stared into her eyes, so opaque they seemed fathomless. Her lashes weren't real long, but they were inky dark and thick. He saw a tiny scar near the corner of her right eye and another near her temple. How had she gotten them? Did he even want to know?

She stared at him, unblinking and defiant. Eli shook off his preoccupation with her appearance. “I have an apartment upstairs.”

“Maybe, but it isn't your home.”

Playing along, he asked, “Why not?”

“Because no one who could afford me would live in a complex this simple.”

“It's a nice place,” Eli defended.

“Nice. But not nice enough. Where are you taking me?”

Eli gave up. “I have several offices, and I keep an apartment close to the locations I visit most often. My home—that is, where I prefer to be—is in Kentucky. I have a ranch there.”

That appeased her. “It would have been too much of a coincidence for us to both live in Illinois.”

“True. I'm staying here now because you're here.”

He waited for some sort of reaction to that, but Ray only nodded and started into the building. “You own a chain of department stores?”

Technically, they were his grandfather's, but that was probably more information than she wanted. “That's right.”

A gentleman by nature, it was difficult for Eli not to take her arm as they walked. But she'd been quietly obvious in her wishes not to be touched. It was one more thing to add to her mystery. “We can do the shopping you think is necessary in my Chicago store tomorrow.”

“No. We'll do the shopping at the local thrift shop. I don't want you standing out or I'll be rescuing you and your brother both.”

Behind her, where she couldn't possibly see him and take offense, Eli grinned. She was a bossy little thing, giving orders without thought and fully expecting them to be obeyed. It was a novel sensation for him, since he was usually the boss, commanding hundreds of people.

She had a slow sassy walk, too. She may have thought wearing the dark clothing would make her less noticeable, but Eli doubted anything could make her fade into the woodwork. Her confident, take-charge aura was too out there and in-your-face.

Even the shortness of her shiny, coal black hair appealed to him. It had a slight natural wave and curled over her ears and nape. Her wispy bangs were longer and she fiddled with them a lot. Eli wondered if that's why she'd left them long—to give her fingers something to do.

Despite the mannish swagger, her hips swayed gently as she made her way up the hallway to his door. Eli pulled his gaze away from her derriere and fished in his pocket for his door key.

He wasn't disappointed that the moment he had his keys in hand, she reached for them.

He lifted them over her head. “I think I can manage.” His words were gently teasing.

She actually flushed, then forced a nonchalant shrug. “Habit.”

The blush nearly did him in, so sweet and so telling about the real woman. If he weren't careful, he'd spend more time contemplating her than rescuing his irresponsible brother.

Eli unlocked the door and pushed it open. They stepped inside, and for the briefest moment, they stood in the dark. Ray was so vital, bursting full of energy and life. He could smell the light, feminine fragrance of her skin and hair, see the glimmer of her witchy eyes as she watched him. Then he flipped the wall switch and the room became flooded with light.

Ray looked around, but showed no reaction to the lush furnishings. “We need to talk, but first, you want to show me where you want me to sleep?”

The lady was full of loaded questions. First, she'd asked if he “wanted her,” and now she left the sleeping arrangements up to him. If he hadn't already seen her emasculate one guy with a kick in the jewels, he might have offered a suggestion or two. But judging by the flat look in her beautiful eyes, she expected some snide sexual comment on his part. He wasn't about to oblige her.

Regardless of her biased views, he was not an idiot.

He'd needed a distraction from his worries, and Ray Jean Vereker, lady mercenary, was certainly that.

“I'll fix us something to drink while you put your things in the first room on the right down the hall. It's a guest bedroom with a private bath.”

“Fix something to eat, too. It was a long drive for me and I'm so hungry my ribs are clanking together.”

Eli shook his head, bemused. She certainly didn't pull any punches. “What would you like?” he asked politely.

“What do you have?”

That threw him. “You know, I don't have the faintest idea. I told the cleaning lady to stock a few things since I knew I'd be staying here. Do you want to take a look yourself?”

“No. Just surprise me. I'm hungry enough to eat anything.”

Five minutes later when Ray came in, Eli had a can of soup simmering on the stove and had just finished making sandwiches. “Baloney and cheese. That okay?”

For an answer, Ray took the sandwich from his hand and sank her teeth into it. As she chewed, she pulled out a chair and lounged back in it, reaching for her case at the same time. “What exactly did your brother do to get himself in this fix?”

“You don't know yet?” That surprised him. She seemed to know everything else.

She swallowed before answering. “It wasn't pertinent. Mercenaries don't have a conscience. We don't decide who is right or wrong in a situation. We just work for the highest offer.” She saluted him with her last bite of sandwich. “Your offer was right.”

He knew, damn it,
he knew
it was all an act—and still he stiffened. “Then I suppose I'm lucky the guerillas didn't want you to kill him.”

“I told you that particular village isn't violent, and they're far too poor to afford me.”

She didn't deny that she might kill for money and it pissed him off. He knew her rules, but still he said, “And if the circumstances were different?”

“If they were violent and rich?”

“Yeah.”

“Your brother would already be dead—but not by my hand.”

Eli chose to take that as reassurance on her morals, whether she meant it that way or not. “My brother Jeremy foolishly went to the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Why?”

He slashed a hand through the air. If Jeremy were here now, he'd get an ass-kicking that'd last him a lifetime. “He wants to be a photojournalist. He's a good student, but he hates to study. I suppose he had this half-baked idea about firsthand experience. Since parts of Central America are still accounted to be underdeveloped, he hoped to get some prime photos and ace his finals report.”