Diana Palmer Collected 1-6: Soldier of Fortune / Tender Stranger / Enamored / Mystery Man / Rawhide and Lace / Unlikely Lover

“I have told the appropriate people that you and your friend here are visiting me,” Laremos said to J.D. and laughed. “It will put you under immediate suspicion I fear, because my past is no secret. But it will spare you the illegality of having to smuggle yourself across the border. I have friends high in government who will help. Oddly enough, the terrorists who have your sister attempted to kidnap me only weeks ago. First Shirt was nearby and armed.”

“First Shirt doesn’t miss,” J.D. recalled.

“Neither did you, my friend, in the old days.” Laremos studied the older man unsmilingly.

“How many men are there in the terrorist group?” J.D. asked. “Hard core, Laremos, not the hangers-on who’ll cut and run at the first volley.”

“About twelve,” came the reply. “Maybe twenty more who will, as you say, cut and run. But the twelve are veteran fighters. Very tough, with political ties in a neighboring country. They are just part of an international network, with members in Italy who saw a chance to make some fast money to finance their cause. Your brother-in-law is an important man, and a wealthy one. And the decision to bring your sister here was most certainly devised by one of those twelve. They took over the finca only a month ago. I have little doubt that the kidnapping has been planned for some time.” He shrugged. “Also, it is known that the Italian authorities have been successful in dealing with this sort of kidnapping. There is less risk here, so they smuggled her out of Italy.”

“Roberto is trying to borrow enough to bargain with,” J.D. said. “He’s determined not to go to the authorities.”

“He does not know about you, does he?” Laremos asked quietly.

J.D. shook his head. “I covered my tracks very well.”

“You miss it, the old life?”

J.D. sighed. “At times. Not often anymore.” He glanced at Gabby absently. “I have other interests now. I was getting too old for it. Too tired.”

“For the same reasons, I became an honest man.” Laremos laughed. “It is by far the better way.” He stretched lazily. “But sometimes I think back and wonder how it would have been. We made good amigos, Archer.”

“A good team,” J.D. agreed. “I hope we still do.”

“Have no fear, amigo. It is like swimming—one never forgets. And you, do you keep in condition?”

“Constantly. I can’t get out of the habit,” J.D. said. “Just as well that I have. Cutting through that jungle won’t be any easy march. I’ve been keeping up with the situation down here, politically and militarily.”

“What about this lovely one?” Laremos asked, frowning as he studied Gabby. “Is she a medic?”

“She’ll handle communications,” J.D. said shortly. “I want her at the ranch with you so that there’s no chance she might get in the line of fire.”

“I see.” Laremos’s dark eyes narrowed and he laughed. “Trust still comes hard to you, eh? You will never forget that one time that I let my mind wander…”

“No hard feelings,” J.D. said quietly. “But Gabby runs the set.”

Laremos nodded. “I understand. And I take no offense. My conscience still nags me about that lapse.”

“Will somebody tell me, please, what’s going on?” Gabby asked when she could stand it no longer.

“I’ve gotten together a group to get Martina out,” J.D. said patiently. “That’s all you need to know.”

“The mercs! They’re already here?”

“Yes,” he murmured, watching her with a tiny smile on his face.

“Ah, I think the line of work of our amigos fascinates this one.” Laremos grinned handsomely.

“Can I actually talk to them?” Gabby said, persisting, all eyes and curiosity. “Oh, J.D., imagine belonging to a group like that, going all over the world to fight for freedom.”

“A lot of them do it for less noble reasons, Gabby,” he said, searching her face with an odd intensity. “And you may be disappointed if you’re expecting a band of Hollywood movie stars. There’s nothing glamorous about killing people.”

“Killing…people?”

“What in God’s name did you think they did, turn water hoses on the enemy?” he asked incredulously. “Gabby, in war men kill each other. In ways you wouldn’t like to know about.”

“Well, yes, I realize that.” She frowned. “But it’s a very dangerous way to live, it’s…” She stopped and searched for words. “Before I came to work for you I lived a quiet, kind of dull life, J.D.,” she said, trying to explain. “Sometimes I thought that I’d probably never do anything more exciting than washing clothes at the Laundromat. Those men…they’ve faced death. They’ve learned the limits of their courage, they’ve tested themselves until the secrets are all gone.” She looked up. “I don’t suppose it makes sense, but I think I envy them in a way. They’ve taken all the veneer off civilization and come away with the reality of what they are. In a terrible way, they’ve seen the face of life without the mask. I never will. I don’t think I really want to. But I’m curious about people who have.”

He brushed the hair back from her face with a gentle hand. “When you see First Shirt, you won’t have to ask questions. You’ll be able to read the answers in his face. Won’t she, Laremos?”

“But indeed.” He chuckled.

“Is he a friend of yours?” she asked J.D.

He nodded. “One of the best I ever had.”

“When you were in the Special Forces?” she asked.

He turned away. “Of course.” He glanced at Laremos, and they exchanged a level gaze that Gabby didn’t understand.

“You didn’t want mines, did you?” Laremos asked suddenly.

“No. The RPGs will be enough, and Drago can jury-rig a mine if he has to. I want to get in and get out fast.”

“The rainy season hasn’t started, at least,” Laremos said. “That will be a bonus.”

“Yes, it will. Have you still got my crossbow?”

“Above the mantel in my study.” Laremos smiled. “It is a conversation piece.”

“To hell with that, does it still work?”

“Yes.”

“A crossbow?” Gabby laughed. “Is it an antique?”

J.D. shook his head. “Not quite.”

“Is it easier to shoot than a bow and arrow?” she asked, pursuing the subject.

He looked uncomfortable. “It’s just a memento,” he said. “Gabby, did you pack some jeans and comfortable shoes?”

“Yes, as you saw in Italy.” She sighed, beginning to feel uneasy. “How long will we be here?”

“Probably no more than three days, if things go well,” he replied. “We need a little time to scout the area and make a plan.”

“The hospitality of my finca is at your disposal,” Laremos said. “Perhaps we might even make time to show Gabby some of the Maya ruins.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Don’t mention archaeological ruins around her, please,” J.D. muttered. “She goes crazy.”

“Well, I like old things,” she retorted. “Why else would I work for you?”

J.D. looked shocked. “Me? Old?”

She studied his face. It wasn’t heavily lined, but there was a lot of silver at his temples mingling with his black hair. She frowned. She’d always assumed he was pushing forty, but now she wondered.

“How old are you, J.D.?” she asked.

“Thirty-six.”

She gasped.

“Not what you expected?” he asked softly.

“You…seem older.”

He nodded. “I imagine so. I’ve got thirteen years on you.”

“You needn’t sound so smug,” she told him. “When I’m fifty, you’ll hate those extra thirteen years.”

“Think so?” he murmured, smiling.

She glanced away from that predatory look. “Tell me about Guatemala, Señor Laremos.”

“Diego, please,” he said, correcting her. “What would you like to know?”

“Anything.”

He shrugged. “Things have been better since the peace agreement in ’96 and the increase in foreign trade, but the people are still poor and the crime high. Guatemala has become a major transport route for drugs and human smuggling, which has not earned us a good reputation on the international stage.”

She looked shocked. “Will things get better?”

“We hope so. But in the meantime, those who wish to secure their land and loved ones must have security. Mine is excellent. But many do not have the financial wherewithal to hire guards. I have a neighbor who gets government troops to go with him every afternoon to check his cattle and his holdings. He is afraid to go alone.”

“I’ll never grumble about paying income taxes again,” Gabby said. “I guess we tend to take it for granted that we don’t have to defend our property and families with guns.”

“Perhaps someday we will be able to say the same thing.”

Gabby was quiet for the rest of the trip, while J.D. and Laremos discussed things she couldn’t begin to understand. Military terms. Logistics. She studied her taciturn employer with new eyes. There was more than he was telling her. It had something to do with the past he never discussed, and he was obviously reluctant to share any of it with her. Trust, again. At least he trusted her enough to let her handle the communications for this insane rescue attempt. If only he’d let those men go into the jungle and stay behind himself. Maybe she could talk him into it. It was a job for a professional soldier, not a lawyer. She closed her eyes and began to think up things to say, knowing in her heart that J.D. wasn’t going to be swayed by any of them.

Chapter Four

Despite Gabby’s unvoiced fears, they went through customs with no hitches, and minutes later were met by a man J.D. obviously knew.

The man was short and sandy-blond, with a face like a railroad track and a slight figure. He was much older than the other two men, probably nearing fifty. He was wearing jungle fatigues with laced up boots. At his side was a holstered pistol; over his shoulder, a mean-looking rifle.

“Archer!” The short man chuckled, and they embraced roughly. “Damn, but I’m glad to see you, even under the circumstances. No sweat, amigo—we’ll get Martina out of there. Apollo came like a shot when I told him what was on.”

“How are you, First Shirt?” J.D. replied. “You’ve lost weight, I see.”

“Well, I’m not exactly in the right profession for getting lazy, am I, boss?” he asked Laremos, who agreed readily enough.

“Laremos said Apollo and Drago were here, but how about Chen?” J.D. asked.

The short man sighed. “He bought it in the Middle East, amigo.” He shrugged. “That’s the way of it.” His eyes were sad and had a faraway look. “It was how he’d have wanted it.”

“Tough,” J.D. said, agreeing. “Maps and radios, Shirt—we’ll need those.”

“All taken care of. Plus about twenty vaqueros for backup—the boss’s men, and I trained ’em,” he added with quiet pride.

“That’s good enough for me.”

“Shall we get under way?” Laremos asked, helping Gabby into a large car. He stood back to let J.D. slide in after her. They were joined by First Shirt, who drove, and another man with a rifle.

The topography was interesting. It reminded Gabby of photos of Caribbean islands, very lush and tropical and studded with palm trees. But after they drove for a while, it began to be mountainous. They passed a burned-out shell of what must have been a house, and Gabby shuddered.

“Diego,” she said quietly, nodding toward the ruin, “the owners—did they escape?”

“No, señorita,” he said.

She wrapped her arms around herself. J.D., noticing the gesture, pulled her closer. She let her head fall onto his shoulder quite naturally and closed her eyes while the men talked.

Laremos’s finca was situated in a valley. The house seemed to be adobe or stucco, with large arches and an airy porch. It was only one story, and it spread out into a garden lush with tropical vegetation. She fell in love with it at first sight.

“You approve?” Laremos smiled, watching her with his dark, lazy eyes. “My father built it many years ago. The servants in the house are the children and grandchildren of those who came here with him, like most of my employees. The big landowners who hold the fincas provide employment for many people, and it is not so temporary as jobs in your country. Here the laborers serve the same household for generations.”

She hadn’t noticed anything unusual about the drive except that the small, dark man beside First Shirt had his rifle in his lap and kept watching the countryside. Now he stood beside the car, rifle ready, while the others went into the house.

It was dark for a moment until her eyes adjusted; then she began to see its interior. There were tiny statuettes, obviously Mayan, along with bowls of cacti, heavy wood furniture, and Indian blankets all around the big living room.

“Coffee?” Laremos asked. He clapped his hands and a small woman about First Shirt’s age came running with a smile on her face. “Café, por favor, Carisa,” he told the woman in rapid-fire Spanish.

She nodded and rushed away.

“Brandy, Archer?” he asked J.D.

“I don’t drink these days,” J.D. replied, dropping onto the comfortable sofa beside Gabby. “First Shirt, have you been able to get any intelligence out of the other camp?”

“Enough.” The short, sandy-haired man nodded, also refusing the offer of brandy. “She isn’t being mistreated, not yet, at least,” he said, watching the younger man relax just a little. “They’re holding her in the remains of a bunkhouse on a finca about six clicks away. They aren’t well armed—just some rifles and grenades, no RPGs or other heavy stuff.”

“What is a click? And what’s an RPG?” Gabby asked.

“A click is a kilometer. An RPG is a rocket launcher,” J.D. explained. “It makes big holes in things.”

“Like tanks and aircraft and buildings,” First Shirt added. “You must be Gabby. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She was taken aback. Everybody seemed to know about her, but she’d never heard of any of these people. She glanced at J.D.

“So I brag about you a little,” he said defensively.

“To everybody but me,” she returned. “You never even pat me on the head and tell me I’ve done a good job.”

“Remind me later,” he said with a slow smile.

“Could I freshen up?” Gabby asked.

“Of course! Carisa!” Laremos called.

The Latin woman entered with a tray of coffee, and he spoke to her again in Spanish.

“Sí, señor,” Carisa murmured.

“I’ve asked her to show you your room,” Laremos explained. “Archer, you might like to take the bags and go with them. Then we can talk.”

“Suits me.” J.D. picked up the cases and followed Gabby and the serving woman down the hall.

The room had a huge double bed. It was the first thing Gabby noticed, and she felt herself go hot all over, especially when Carisa left and she was alone with J.D.

He closed the door deliberately and watched her fiddle with her cosmetic case as she set it down on the dresser.

“Gabby.”

She put down a bottle of makeup and turned.

He moved just in front of her and framed her small face in his hands. “I don’t want you out of my sight any more than you have to be. Laremos is charming, but there are things about him you don’t know. About all these men.”

“Including you, Mr. Brettman?” she asked gently, searching his eyes. “Especially you?”

He drew in a slow breath. “What do you want to know?”

“You were one of them, weren’t you, J.D.?” she asked quietly. “They’re more than old friends. They’re old comrades-in-arms.”

“I wondered when you’d guess,” he murmured. His eyes darkened. “Does it matter?”

She frowned. “I don’t understand. Why should the fact that you served in the Special Forces with them matter?”

He seemed torn between speech and silence. He drew in a breath and rammed his hands in his pockets. “You don’t know about the years before you met me, Gabby.”

“Nobody does. It has something to do with trust, doesn’t it?”

He met her searching green eyes squarely. “Yes. A lot. I’ve lived by hard rules for a long time. I’ve trusted no one, because it could have meant my life. These men—First Shirt and Laremos and the rest—I know I can trust them, because under fire they never failed me. Laremos, maybe once—that’s one reason I brought you along. Against my better judgment,” he added dryly. “I’m still not sure I could live with myself if anything happened to you here.”

“And that’s why you want me in the same room with you?” she probed delicately.

“Not quite,” he admitted, watching her. “I want you in the same room because I’ve dreamed of holding you in my arms all night. I won’t make any blatant passes at you, Gabby, but the feel of you in the bed will light up my darkness in ways I can’t explain to you.”

She felt her heart hammering. He made it sound wildly erotic, to be held close to that massive body all night long, to go to sleep in his arms. Her breath caught in her throat; her eyes looked up into his and her blood surged in her veins.

His fingers moved down to her throat, stroking it with a deliberately sensuous lightness. “Is your blood running as hot as mine is right now?” he asked under his breath. “Does your body want the feel of mine against it?”

He bent and tilted her face up to his, so that he could watch her expression. His mouth opened as it brushed against hers.

“Stand very still,” he whispered, opening her mouth with his. “Very, very still…”

She gasped as his hard, moist lips began to merge with her own. She tasted him, actually tasted the essence of him, as he built the intensity of the kiss. His hands moved down her back, bringing her torso against his and letting her soft breasts crush against the hardness of his chest. His teeth nipped roughly at her mouth as he drew slowly away. His eyes were blazing—fierce and passionate and hungry.

“I like it hard,” he said under his breath. “Will I frighten you?”

She barely managed to shake her head before he bent again. This time it was a tempest, not the slight breeze of before. He lifted her in his hard arms and she felt the heat in him as his mouth opened wide. She felt his tongue go inside her mouth in a fencing motion that made her feel hot all over and dragged a smothered moan from her throat.

She was trembling, and her body couldn’t seem to get close enough to his. She clung to him, trying to weld herself to him, but before she could move, he was putting her on her feet. His eyes blazed wildly in his pale face.

“No more of that,” he said heavily. He freed her abruptly, and the blood rushed back into her upper arms, making her aware of the pressure of his unconscious hold on her. “My God, you were trembling all over.”

She felt naked under his glittering gaze. She’d never been vulnerable like that with anyone, but to have it happen with J.D. was terrifying.

“I feel funny,” she said with a shaky laugh.

“Do you?” He took a deep breath and drew her head to his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Gabby. I’m not used to virgins.”

“That never happened to me before.” She hadn’t meant to confess it, but the words came tumbling out involuntarily.

“Yes, I felt that,” he murmured. His hands, tangled in her hair, gently drew her closer to him so that her cheek rested against his chest. “Gabby, do you know what I’d like to do? I’d like to take off my shirt and feel your cheek against my skin, your lips on my body…” He groaned and suddenly pushed her away, turning on his heel. Gabby stood behind him and ached for what he’d just described.

“How long have we worked together…two years?” he asked in an odd tone. “And we spend two days posing as lovers and this happens. Maybe bringing you along wasn’t such a good idea.”

“You said you needed me,” she reminded him.

“Gabby, just don’t tempt me, all right?”

“Do what?” she asked blankly, looking up at him with dazed eyes.

“Damn!” he growled and then sighed. “Gabby, what I’m trying to say is, let’s not get emotional.”

“You’re the one who’s cursing, counselor, not me,” she reminded him coldly. “And I didn’t start kissing you!”

“You helped,” he reminded her, his eyes narrow. “You’d be a joy to initiate.”

“I am not sleeping with you!”

His knuckles brushed her mouth, silencing her. “I was teasing. I won’t do anything to you that you’ll regret, Gabby, that’s a promise. No sex.”

She swallowed. “You scare me.”

“Why?”

“Because of the way you make me feel,” she confessed. “I didn’t expect it.”

“Neither did I. You’re a heady wine, honey. One I don’t dare drink much of.” He lifted his hand to her hair. “You could be habit-forming to a man like me, who’s been alone too long.”

“Maybe I’d better resign when we get back…” she began, shaken as much by what she was feeling as by what he was telling her.

“No!” he said curtly. His fingers caught the nape of her neck and held on. “No. This is all just a moment out of time, Gabby. It’s no reason to start getting panicky. Besides,” he added heavily, “there’s still Martina. And God only knows how this will turn out.”

She went icy cold. “Jacob, please don’t go with the others.”

“I have to,” he said simply.

“You could get killed,” she said.

He nodded. “That could happen. But Martina is all I have in the world, the only person I’ve ever loved. I can’t turn my back on her, not now. I could never call myself a man again.”

What could she say to that? He touched her cheek lightly and left her alone in the room. She watched the door close with a sense of utter disaster. It didn’t help that she was beginning to understand why she trembled so violently at his touch.

J.D. had always disturbed her, from the very first. But she’d assumed that it was because of the kind of man he was. Now, she didn’t know. Just looking at him made her ache. And he’d kissed her…how he’d kissed her! As if he were hungry for her, for her alone.

She shook herself. Probably he just needed a woman and she was handy. He’d said not to get herself involved, and she wasn’t going to. Just because she was all excited at the prospect of being part of a covert operation, that was no reason to go overboard for J.D.

She wondered at the way he’d reacted when she’d asked if he had been one of the group before. Didn’t he remember that he’d told her he’d served in the Special Forces?

It was fifteen minutes before she rejoined the men, wearing jeans and a loose pullover top and boots. J.D. studied her long and hard, his eyes clearly approving the modest gear.

She stared back at him. He seemed like a different man, sitting there in jungle fatigues and holding some small weapon in his big hands.

“The Uzi,” he told her when she approached and stared at the miniature machine gun curiously.

“And what’s that?” she asked, nodding toward a nasty-looking oversize rifle with a long torpedo-like thing on a stick near it.

“An RPG rocket launcher.”

“Is that Gabby?” a short black man asked, grinning at her.

“That’s Gabby.” J.D. chuckled. “Honey, this is Drago, one of the best explosives men this side of nuclear war. And over in the corner, being antisocial, is Apollo. He’s the scrounger. What we need, he gets.”

She nodded toward the corner, where a second black man stood. That one was tall and slender, whereas Drago was chunky.

“Hey, Gabby,” Apollo said without looking up.

“Does everybody know my name?” she burst out, exasperated.

“Afraid so,” First Shirt volunteered, laughing. “Didn’t you know Archer was a blabbermouth?”

She stared at her boss. “Well, I sure do now,” she exclaimed.

“Come here, Gabby, and let me show you how to work the radio,” Laremos offered, starting to rise.

“My job,” J.D. said in a tone of voice that made Laremos sit back down.

“But of course.” Laremos grinned, not offended at all.

Gabby followed the big man out of the room to the communications room, where Laremos had a computer and several radios.

“J.D….” she began.

He closed the door and glared down at her. “He hurt a woman once. Badly. Can you read between the lines, or are you naïve enough that I have to spell it out in words of one syllable?”

She drew in a steadying breath. “I’m sorry, J.D. You’ll just have to make allowances for my stupidity. I’m a small-town Texas girl. Where I come from, men are different.”

“Yes, I know. You aren’t used to this kind of group.”

She looked up. “No. But they seem to be nice people. J.D., it just dawned on me that you must trust me a lot to bring me here,” she murmured.

“There isn’t anyone I trust more,” he said in a deep, rough tone. “Didn’t you know?”

He stared into her eyes until she felt the trembling come back, and something wild darkened his own before he turned away and got it under control.

“We’d better get to it,” he said tautly. “And when we go back out there, for God’s sake, don’t say or do anything to encourage Laremos, you understand? He’s a friend of mine, but I’d kill him in a second if he touched you.”

The violence in him made her eyes widen with shock. He glanced at her, his face hard, and she knew she was seeing the man without the mask for the first time. He looked as ruthless as any one of those men in the other room and she realized with a start that he was.

“I’m territorial,” he said gruffly. “What I have, I hold, and for the duration of this trip, you belong to me. Enough said?”

“Enough said, Jacob,” she replied, her voice unconsciously soft.

His face tautened. “I’d like to hear you say my name in bed, Gabby,” he breathed, moving close. “I’d like to hear you scream it…”

“Jacob!” she gasped as he bent and took her mouth.

She moaned helplessly as he folded her into his tall, powerful form, letting her feel for the first time the involuntary rigidity of his body in desire.

He lifted his lips from hers and looked into her wide eyes, and he nodded. “Yes, it happens to me just as it happens to other men,” he said in a rough tone. “Are you shocked? Haven’t you ever been this close to a hungry man?”

“No, Jacob, I haven’t,” she managed unsteadily.

That seemed to calm him a little, but his eyes were still stormy. He let her move away, just enough to satisfy her modesty.

“Are you frightened?” he asked.

“You’re very strong,” she said, searching his face. “I know you wouldn’t force me, but what if…?”

“I’ve had a lot of practice at curbing my appetites, Gabby,” he murmured. He brushed the hair away from her cheeks. “I won’t lose my head, even with you.

“Let me show you,” he whispered, and she felt his mouth beside hers, touching, moving away, teasing, until she turned her head just a fraction of an inch and opened it to the slow, sweet possession of his lips.

She could barely breathe, and it was heaven as his arms came around her, as his mouth spoke to her in a wild, nonverbal way. The opening of the door was a shattering disappointment.

“Excuse me—” Laremos chuckled “—but you were so long, I thought you might be having trouble.”

“I am,” J.D. said in a voice husky with emotion, “but not the kind you thought.”

“As I see. Here, let me go over the sequence with you and discuss the frequencies—they are different from the ones you are familiar with, no doubt,” he said, sitting down in front of the equipment.

Gabby brushed back her hair and tried not to look at J.D. She tried not to think about the long night ahead, when she’d lie in his arms in that big bed and have to keep from begging him to do what they both wanted.

The radio wasn’t difficult at all. It took only minutes to learn the routine. It was the code words that took longest. She made a list and walked around the house memorizing it while the men talked in the spacious living room. At the dinner table, she was still going over it.

Only Laremos, J.D., and Gabby ate together at the table. The others carried their plates away.

“They’re still antisocial, I see,” J.D. murmured over his food.

“Old habits.” Laremos glanced at Gabby. “And I think they do not want to disillusion this one, who looks at them with such soft eyes.”

“I didn’t embarrass them, did I?” she asked, contrite.

“No,” J.D. said. “I think you flattered them. They aren’t used to all that rapt attention.” He chuckled.

“How did they come to be mercenaries?” she asked softly. “If you can tell me, I mean. I don’t want to invade anyone’s privacy.”

“Well, Shirt was in the Special Forces, like I was,” J.D. said, pausing over the sentence, as if he was choosing his words carefully. “After he got out of the service, he couldn’t find anything he liked to do except police work, and he wasn’t making enough to pay the bills. He had a contact in the mercenary network and he asked some questions. He was good with the standard underworld weapons and something of a small-arms expert. He found work.”

“And Apollo?”

“Apollo started out as an M.P. He was accused of a crime he didn’t commit, and there were some racial overtones.” J.D. shrugged. “He wasn’t getting any justice, so he ran for it and wound up in Central America. He’s been down here ever since.”

“He can’t clear himself?” she asked.

“I expect I’ll end up defending him one of these days,” he told her with a quiet smile. “In fact, I can almost guarantee it. I’ll win, too.”

“I wouldn’t doubt that,” she murmured, tongue in cheek.

“How long have you worked with this bad-tempered one, Señorita Gabby?” Laremos asked.

“A little over two years,” she told him, glancing at J.D. “It’s been an education. I’ve learned that if you shout loudly enough, you can get most anything you want.”

“He shouts at you?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” J.D. murmured with a grin. “The first time I tried, she heaved a paperweight at my head.”

“I did not,” she protested. “I threw it at your door!”

“Which I opened at the wrong time,” he continued. “Fortunately, I have good reflexes.”

“You will need them tomorrow, I fear,” Laremos told him. “The terrorists will not make things easy for us.”

“True,” J.D. said as he finished his coffee. “But we have the element of surprise on our side.”

“That is so.”

“And now, we’d better go over the maps again. I want to be sure I know the terrain before we set out in the morning.”