Till Death Us Do Part. Rebecca York
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“Jed?”
“Sé, mi amigo.”
Some of the squad had recognized him, and he heard his name whispered in the circle of startled faces as he shifted Marissa to his side.
“What is the meaning of this?” El Jefe demanded. “What are you doing here interfering in my private business?”
“I apologize for arriving unannounced. But I can’t allow you to execute an innocent woman. Particularly when she’s my fiancée.”
“Your what?” Sanchez bellowed, any pretense of calm vanishing.
Marissa’s reaction was no less violent. Her body jerked in Jed’s arms. Raising her head, she searched his face, her eyes wide and startled. And so tantalizingly beautiful that he was almost undone. But he managed to remember why he was here and why it was so important to hang on to his wits.
“My fiancée. The woman I’m going to marry.” He repeated the words very slowly and very evenly, and not only for Sanchez’s benefit. Marissa needed time to take in the information.
“That’s impossible. She’s a spy!” the general growled. “She escaped into the jungle, and my men had to recapture her.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Do you know who sent her?”
“Nobody sent her. There’s obviously been some kind of mistake,” Jed countered. He’d been acting on pure instinct when he’d driven headlong in front of the troops. Now he looked at the stake that had been waiting for Marissa and was unable to keep from shuddering. “This is no place for a civilized discussion. Why don’t we go back to the hacienda and talk about it before we all get drenched.”
Sanchez nodded—a single, curt movement of his head—and began striding toward his jeep. Jed started to lead Marissa to the Land Rover, but the general’s voice stopped him. “No.” El Jefe spoke over the wind, his voice raised so the assembled troops could hear. “I insist you ride with me, amigo. One of my men will bring your vehicle and put it in the garage.”
Jed didn’t bother to argue. His life and Marissa’s depended on their getting a chance to communicate. But defying Sanchez at this moment was an even surer ticket to destruction.
Marissa still looked dazed as he helped her into the jeep’s back seat. At first she nestled against him like an injured animal. But he felt her coming back to life as El Jefe barked orders to the squad. He sensed her struggling to pull herself together, but there was only so much he could do to help without giving away the story line to their attentive audience. When the jeep lurched forward she sat up straighter and squirmed in the seat, trying to put some distance between them. Jed suspected that his leg pressed to hers was making it difficult for her to think. But he held her firmly, aware that Sanchez kept shifting his gaze from the road to glance with interest in the rearview mirror at the engaged couple in the back seat.
“I was worried about you, honey,” Jed murmured, keeping Marissa close to him and stroking his lips against her temple.
The caress made her shiver, and he wondered if the melting moment in his arms had been a figment of his imagination. No, for a few incredible seconds she’d kissed him like a lover. But he could put that down to disorientation—and a spontaneous reaction to the man who’d snatched her from the jaws of death.
He ached to find out if her surge of emotions had come from more than fear and gratitude. But that discovery would have to wait for another time and place. “I hope you’re feeling more like yourself,” he murmured, knowing the statement was only partly true. Lord, what he wouldn’t give for a few hours with the woman who had come alive in his arms.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“Good girl.” He patted her knee, anticipating her response to the intimate gesture. She jumped, and he knew he had gotten her full attention. As much for Miguel’s benefit as hers, he began to speak in a half amused, half worried voice. “So I leave you alone for a couple of hours and you get yourself in a real mess again. Cassie and Abby and Sabrina and everybody else are going to be worried sick when they hear about this. Or maybe we shouldn’t even tell them.”
Her head whipped toward him. “How do you know—?”
His hand tightened on hers, and he clamped down on her sentence before she could give anything away. “How did I know you were here, honey bee? A combination of detective work and luck.” He raised his voice and addressed Sanchez. “You weren’t really going to shoot my lady love, were you, you old devil?”
“I was still weighing the pros and cons.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“There was always the chance that a last-minute reprieve might loosen her tongue.”
Marissa made a strangled sound.
They were approaching the stretch of jungle that separated the hacienda from the military complex. Miguel turned onto a hard-packed dirt road that wound past banana trees, tall ferns and countless jungle plants Jed couldn’t name. They were all swaying wildly, raining leaves down on the jeep. And the sky was black as midnight. Jed expected the rain to begin pelting them any second.
When Sanchez leaned forward and picked up a portable phone, Jed pressed his fingers tightly over Marissa’s.
She looked at him and nodded. And he knew she was functioning on a higher level. She understood that while the other man’s attention was focused on giving orders for their reception, they had partial privacy. Still, Jed took the precaution of keeping his tone light and garrulous. “Don’t let him fool you into thinking he’s harmless.”
She glanced toward the front seat. “I won’t.”
In the dim light he turned her face toward him. “Did he hurt you?” he whispered.
“Not physically.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding. “You were in the prison complex in Santa Isabella?”
“Yes. In solitary confinement. I didn’t see a living soul until two men brought me here yesterday.”
Jed glanced up to see that Miguel was staring at them intently in the mirror again. Probably he’d only used the phone call to see what they would do when they thought his attention was elsewhere.
Just then they emerged from the forest. The wind suddenly died and the sun came out again. A good omen, Jed told himself, wishing he believed in omens.
They headed for a high adobe wall softened with festoons of blooming purple and orange bougainvillea. But the metal gate was all business. Jed watched as Sanchez pressed a remote control that slid the barrier open, interested to find that security had become more automated since his time. The modernization could be helpful if they had to make an unexpected getaway. Electronic devices could be disabled.
However, when they passed the dog kennel, his hopeful thoughts turned gloomy. Electronics were one thing. The pack of Dobermans that patrolled the grounds at night was another thing altogether.
The barking of the Dobermans stabbed through the last of the fog shrouding Marissa’s brain. She gave Jed a quick sideways glance, marveling that he could appear so calm. Trying to follow his example, she sat up straighter and looked around, aware of her surroundings with a sudden aching clarity. The sun had come out from behind the clouds, and the whitewashed walls of the hacienda were bathed in the warm afternoon light. The wind had died to a gentle whisper. And she wasn’t dead.
When she shuddered, Jed’s arm tightened around her, and she had the uncanny sensation that he understood what she was feeling.
She looked down, hoping he wasn’t reading everything in her mind. For her own equanimity she struggled to rationalize what had happened between them out there on the field—or more specifically what had happened to her. His part was easy enough to grasp. He was a normal man. She’d tumbled into his embrace, and he’d taken advantage of the situation.
But