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  “Sure.” Gun sat back, hating the struggle breathing had become.

  Donavon offered him a piece of gum. She popped a piece in her mouth, clamped her teeth down on it, and then lit two cigarettes, handing one to him. “Go ahead. Chew and puff.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise when six guys on horseback broke through the tall grass along the roadside to watch the big automobile roll by. Gun’s hand was on the .38 under his pant leg before he thought. The damned driver had slowed to a crawl.

  “Hey, buddy.” Gun’s voice wasn’t friendly. “What’s the deal? You know these guys?”

  With an exaggerated shoulder lift, the driver muttered. “They belong here. Keeping strangers out for Senor Armondez.”

  The guards rode so close to the SUV, sweat on the horses’ withers rubbed off on the windows. The riders all wore Spanish-style spurs, and their mounts were scarred from constant spurring.

  They were armed with pistols and high-powered rifles that looked like they were locked and loaded. There were guards on every side, hemming them in as they moved along at a snail’s pace. Some of them leaned over to stare at the occupants of the SUV. Gun recognized their glares as a warning he was not welcome.

  He was ready for a fight if it became necessary, although he would have liked more of an arsenal. His moment of concern quieted some as the guards reined their mounts off the road to allow the driver to turn onto a graveled lane.

  The stressed look on Donavon’s face softened. He knew she had relaxed her hold on the weapon in her purse when she leaned in to him. “I hope our host has plenty of iced tea.” She licked her lips as if they were parched.

  “I’d settle for piss-warm scotch.”

  Their fingers brushed and laced for a second before the chauffeur barreled under an arbor and around a curve at a fast clip. As if by magic, a low-slung, sprawling house rose up from a backdrop of somber, hovering trees and ten-foot iron fencing. Ironically, the heavy gates were yawning open as if security really wasn’t a high priority. That was a joke.

  They drove past beds of crimson flowers and several cool-looking reflection pools. Gun saw nothing attractive about the opulence. The place had cost lives.

  The ride ended under a wide portico at the front of the palace. Double doors swung open, and immediately several maids and houseboys ran out to stand at attention, apparently waiting to see to their needs.

  “My Lord,” Ali murmured. “Just like Gone with the Wind.”

  “Yeah, maybe we can get a decent meal out of these here folks.”

  The chauffeur opened the door and helped Ali out of the SUV. At the same moment, Armondez strolled out to greet them. He looked like any other average guy, except his eyes. The barren emptiness seemed to hide real evil. The scene was completed with two guards in nice suits and stony expressions. Gun was nervous now and wondered how he would protect Donavon if they did a search. The best he could do was keep her close. Gun smiled and nodded just as any tourist would do. Lord, he had no idea what the outcome would be, and it was his fault if it blew up in their faces. Another nightmare because of him.

  Ali hesitated for a split second and then walked beside Gun. Her calculating gaze took in Armondez’s self-assured smile and slightly arrogant stride. His clothing was flawless, fitting his lean, muscular body with the look of extravagant pampering. His petal-pink shirt draped easily over his shoulders and reed-thin waist.

  She smiled warmly when he caught her eyes with his stare. “Rodriquez, your home is beautiful.” She placed her hand in his. “Do you mind if I use your first name?” His porcelain smile was meant for her alone.

  “Bambi, my dear. Welcome to my home. It is yours to enjoy. And of course I want you to use my name.” Armondez flicked a glance over Gun. “Nice of you to come, Sweeney.”

  “Hey, really nice of you to have us.” Gun drew Ali back to his side.

  “Look, Sweeney.” A shrill whinny came from the horse stretching its bowed neck over the corral fence a short distance from the house. She attempted to interest Gun in something he knew and probably liked. “Horses.”

  “You like horses, Bambi?” Armondez’s eyes glittered like black diamonds while he commandeered Ali’s attention. “After we have a drink, perhaps you would like to see them.”

  She wanted Gun to stay in her line of vision. Right now, he was looking around, casing the joint. She reached out and hooked her hand in the crook of his elbow.

  “Come on, honey. Let’s have a drink.” She pushed against him for emphasis. “Rodriquez is being so thoughtful, offering to show us around his lovely home while we’re here.”

  The moment came, and Ali had never wanted to pee so badly as she did right then. The two guards stepped in front of them and stood like rock walls. The bigger of the two reached out to touch Gun’s shoulder.

  “Don’t insult my friends. That won’t be necessary.” The two characters walked away, and Armondez took control, turning her toward the entryway.

  “Come inside. It is too warm for you to be out here.” Ignoring Gun, he led her to a shadowy enclosed porch off the entry hall. Ali was stunned by the room’s cool beauty, its pale blue windows splashed with opalescent orchids of fine glass.

  She couldn’t help the smile of appreciation as she sat down on a white linen-covered wicker couch. She was still recovering from the search scene. Gun’s reaction to the serene room was what she expected. He sat in a chair and glanced at the gun cabinet behind a small teakwood bar.

  “Do you have a lot of animals, Rodriquez?”

  He chuckled and handed her a crystal glass filled with sherry. “I have several animals I keep as pets.” He smiled into her eyes and sipped his sherry. “The horses are my favorite. While the jaguar is special, he is still wild and would tear my throat out if he could.”

  Ali almost choked. “A jaguar?”

  Gun sat up straight and tipped his glass, emptying it. “Never known anyone who owned the real cat.”

  The gleam in Armondez’s eyes made Ali nervous. The man was a collector. He took Gun’s empty glass and refilled it.

  “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll take you to see my pets.”

  “How about right now?” Gun stood, leaving his drink, then took Ali’s hand. “Leave your drink.”

  “Of course, honey. That sounds great.”

  Eyeing Gun’s untouched glass, Armondez nodded. “Very well.” He went to the doorway and held his hand out to Ali. “This way, please.”

  He strode off in a leisurely gait and glanced back at them when Gun held her back. Her soft smile seemed to reassure him.

  “Gun.” She murmured as low as possible. “Stay where I can see you. You’re the one that wanted to be here. Straighten up.”

  Her little browbeating made him grin. “Yes, dear.” He lightly smacked her ass and squeezed her butt cheek. “I still have fire ants in my shorts.”

  “Best you drown them, buster.”

  He wrapped his arms around her to murmur in her ear. “Don’t get too caught up by this guy’s good manners. We gotta snuff him, and it’s easier if you don’t get too friendly.”

  “I know my job. A couple of drinks or a little sex has never made me change my mind.”

  He laughed aloud and drew a questioning look from Armondez.

  “Nothing wrong, I hope.”

  She laughed in what she thought was an airy fashion. “Oh, my, no. Just enjoying the lovely artwork.” She gestured to the rare Monet miniatures on the wall.

  He smiled pleasantly and opened the door to the shady garden. “They are very old, but their age only adds to their beauty.”

  “They must be priceless,” Ali said in a serious tone.

  “Rare beauty has no price, Bambi.” Armondez tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow.

  Oh, hell and damnation. This had to be a crazy dream and she would wake up in her own bed in safe and wonderful Charleston. But, no. The warm body next to hers wasn’t anyone she knew or wanted to be near.

  Crushing indecision took her br
eath. What in Hades was she doing here? Gun took her free hand. He grinned at her as they strolled down the shaded path toward the sound of horses raising hell. The stables were similar in color to the rambling house, low to the ground, sturdy-looking brick and cream stucco. The first thing she noticed was the lack of dung lying around and no killer horseflies. The trickle of flowing water took her gaze to a crystal-clear trough of water. The place was clean as the house. A heavy rail fence closed the area in securely.

  “Armondez. Something wrong in your stable? This heat must be driving them loco.” Gun looked concerned about the horses.

  Striding ahead to open the corral gate, Armondez gave Gun a look of scorn. “These horses are bred here. Heat does not bother them.” He made a kissing sound, and the biggest, wildest of the bunch trotted to his master.

  He took Ali’s hand and lifted it to the shimmering mane of the horse. The strength of his fingers belied his serene, non-intimidating appearance. She caught the scent of wisteria and moss. Did she like the scent? How could she? There was no telling how many women had caught that aroma just before he killed them.

  She gasped when the stallion snorted and sawed his head up and down in a spirited action, grazing her shoulder with his head. Showing surprise had been the wrong thing to do. Her regret was instant and deep as Armondez grabbed a whip from a gatepost and brought it down several times on the horse’s neck, cursing the hapless animal.

  “Please,” she finally cried out, too upset to hide her anger. “It was my fault. Don’t hit him.”

  Gun’s strong hand on her arm pulled her back.

  “Come on, man.” Gun held his hand out to the skittish animal. “No need for the rough stuff.”

  Worried that he would say something to get them killed, Ali hugged his waist and pinched the tight flesh above his belt. “I’d like to see the rest of the herd.” She nodded to an enormous shed near the stables. “Is that your horse barn?”

  “No.” Armondez was still looking at Gun with real speculation in his hooded eyes. “That is nothing.” He waved his hand, and the stallion bolted away to the far end of the corral. “Let me bring out my best. He’s magnificent.”

  While Armondez strode off to enter the stable, Gun turned to gaze at the barn she had asked about. “That sure as the hell isn’t a horse barn. Probably a kitchen for cocaine.”

  Ali hugged his neck, pretending to kiss him. Her lips moved rapidly against his. “Gun. He’s our target, that’s all we need to be sure of.”

  “Keep him entertained for fifteen minutes? Fifteen minutes! I want to see just what all is in that shed.” He hugged her close. “Pretty damned sure the DEA would love to destroy this place. It would be a big help if you can do it.”

  Ali listened and then nodded, not happy with the plan. “This is the last time, buddy. We’re supposed to stay glued to each other.” She groaned and straightened her face as Armondez led a giant sun-red horse out into the sunlight. “What makes you think he won’t notice you’re missing?”

  Gun shook his head and murmured in her ear. “He can’t see anything but you right now. This is important, Donavon.”

  Armondez beckoned her to his side with a glistening smile. “Here is my favorite. Come, stroke him. He will not hurt you.”

  Hell, this guy needed to get out more. “I can see why you like him. He’s beautiful.” Ali hoped her performance was stellar, moving closer to Armondez, making sure he was looking at her and not at Gun. She didn’t have to worry about that. The man never took his eyes off her.

  She became wary as his hand covered hers and slid easily down her arm. He was giving her a mini feel-up. Always ready to defend herself, Ali had a tough time not giving him the knee. The jungle must be affecting her in a weird way, heightening her need to react to every look and touch. Oh, Lord. Now his rich, smooth voice vibrated near her ear.

  “He’s like all animals. A woman’s touch makes them her slave.”

  God, what a jerk. The man was an absolute macho pig. Covering her disgust, she leveled her gaze on the top pearl button of Armondez’s pink shirt. “He’s cute.” That was about the zaniest thing she could think of, and he took it like a fat catfish to dough-ball bait. His smiling gaze touched her lowered zipper and snaked on down a few inches, sliding inside the jumpsuit to mess around with her braless boobs.

  Before she could bat her lashes, he called for the young man standing near the stable door to bring tack out for the horse. Oh, hell, he was having the big-assed horse saddled. She was going for a ride.

  “You ride, don’t you?” He wasn’t really asking her, but telling her to get her rear in the saddle. “Here, let me help you.”

  Ali grunted when he picked her up and set her astride the nice English saddle. Damnation, he was swinging up behind her. He made no bones about getting as close as possible to glue his thighs against hers. It reminded her of being plopped on Santa Claus’s lap at Christmas. She didn’t like it. Only now, she couldn’t squall and raise hell to get out of it. His arms went firmly about her waist and pressed to the underside of her breasts. He turned in the saddle to speak to Gun.

  “I won’t keep her away for long, Sweeney.”

  She was amazed at the humble reaction from Gun. “Sure thing. I’ll be here, waiting.”

  She considered accidentally elbowing Armondez in the gut, but changed her mind. Fifteen minutes. That was what Gun had asked for. Armondez’s well-manicured hands gripped the oiled reins, and they were off at a nice, smooth trot.

  She turned her head to see Gun give her a hint of a smile. Okay, here she was on top of a horse, killer’s arms around her and his nose in her hair. If this guy’s hand got any closer to her breast, she would at least have to bloody his nose. There was some big payback coming and soon. Damn you, Gun.

  Chapter 18

  “Pay dirt.” Gun rubbed a quarter-sized spot of dust off a window he’d located at the back of the shed and squinted to see inside. He had been right about the kitchen. He could see huge cooking tanks and tables loaded with neatly stacked packages of tar and what looked like pure coke. They weren’t even disguised as loaves of bread yet.

  Sweat trickled down his spine to soak the back of his shirt. He stopped to wipe his face before trying to find a way inside. Damn this hot place. He glanced around. Nobody but him and a kitten that was busy covering its crap.

  “Come on, cat,” he mumbled, reaching down to pick up the limber kitten. If he had to leave in a hurry, he didn’t want to squash some damned cat underfoot. “We’re going in.”

  Meow.

  “Quiet.”

  Meow.

  Gun stuck the kitten on his shoulder, wincing a little when its small claws pierced his skin. “Your name wouldn’t be Donavon, would it?”

  He chuckled when the tiny gray-striped kitten swatted his ear with its paw. Fun stopped while Gun searched for a way into the building. Dry twigs snapped under his shoes, making him stop and listen for trouble. Nothing.

  There it was, a narrow door with a rusted latch holding an even rustier lock. The doorframe splintered neatly under a well-placed kick. The noise startled the kitten and it dug its claws in, yowling for comfort.

  “Damn it. Take it easy, fella.” Gun pushed the door open, peering inside. “Okay, keep your eyes open.”

  He pulled the mangled door back into a semblance of its former shape, disguising its splinters. The gloomy interior of the building was quiet, but he could see there had been plenty of activity recently. There was another door at the far end of room. He didn’t hear anything to scare him off, so he took his time looking around. Plastic wrap and heavy cord, plus containers filled with white powder. These folks felt completely safe in their dirty business. What he couldn’t do with several sticks of dynamite or at least some glycerin paste.

  A grating sound sent him to the floor to crawl under a table. His heart hammered almost as loudly as the kitten purred. A sliver of light showed under a door, and he could hear people talking. Too bad he didn’t have a full squad of agent
s with him. The conversation on the other side of the door was clear. These bastards talked about moving a half-ton of blow tomorrow night like most people talk about a barbecue. If his plans went well, theirs would be changed and the Feds could come down on this place like a hammer before they could move the stuff out.

  The drowsing kitten slipped off his shoulder and clung to his collar until he unbuttoned his shirt and stuffed the kitten inside. “Don’t think I’m taking care of you if shit starts.”

  He covered the kitten’s muzzle with his hand when the door opened and one of the guys flipped the lights on. Oh, shit. The damned splintered door. If the guy looked at the back of the room, he couldn’t miss it. Gun could have reached out to touch the guy’s shoe. Apparently satisfied with their lousy security, he shuffled back the way he had come. The lights went out and the door closed. Gun heard something else. A woman’s giggle and a deep grunt from a man. Somebody was going at it in the next room.

  They were probably too involved in their party to hear him leaving. He slid from under the table and headed for the door. The moment he pushed the sagging door open and stepped outside, the heat hit him full force. Making it worse was the animal inside his shirt.

  He sucked his breath in and gripped the sleeping cat, dragging it out of his shirt. “You little fur ball. I’m not keeping you.” The sleepy eyes only opened a slit. “I’m serious. Your momma’s meowing for you.” Holding the soft, warm innocence seemed so out of place here, where nothing good ever happened.

  There was no way he could explain to Donavon if she got back from her ride and found him gone. Gun couldn’t understand her being so timid with Armondez. He’d never ask the reason ‘cause she probably wouldn’t tell him.

  “¡Parada!” The sharp-edged order to stop from an Armondez guard sliced through Gun’s nerves.

  “Who, me?” He grinned and held the kitten up for the nervous guy to see. “I heard him crying and thought he might be in trouble.” Holding the animal out to the short, skinny guy, Gun attempted to be nice. “Is it yours? Damned nice cat.”