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  Ali tensed up to stop the shudder running over her body.

  “Armondez can’t resist a classy woman. He is extremely partial to blue eyes. Donavon fits that profile perfectly. Donavon will be outfitted with all the trappings to attract The Anaconda. It will be Gun’s job to keep the son-of-a-bitch looking, not touching. In case it comes down to that, Donavon can handle herself, but we don’t want them to know she’s as tough as they are.”

  The boss’s voice seemed far away while Ali thought about the snake thing. Shit. She hated snakes.

  “Okay, wrapping things up here, don’t get separated at any cost. If you have to go to the latrine together, go together.”

  From the corner of her eye, Ali could see the faint grin on Gun’s face. She bunched her shoulders together in what she knew was a defensive posture, forcing her attention back to Supervisor Hamm.

  “You’ll be studying maps and logistics for the next week.” The supervisor flipped off the player and handed out large envelopes filled with pictures. “I realize you are both veterans of this type of mission, but you can’t underestimate this man. Rehash your cover stories and get familiar with your new names. You have to be razor sharp on this one.”

  Ali realized she was clutching her coat like a life raft and looked around the room. No one showed any emotion at all. Gun slowly unwrapped a piece of gum, folded it into his mouth, and chewed while looking at the pictures of brutally murdered and tortured corpses.

  Her gaze focused on the horror of one photo showing a very young girl being beaten by two brutes. She flipped it over to Gun. She checked out his expression. It didn’t alter. He leaned over, brushing her shoulder with his, pointing to the picture in his hand.

  “Nice car.”

  “Car?” Ali could only see a bloody body lying beside an older Cadillac. “Is that all you see?”

  He looked carefully at the photo, then at her. “Yep.”

  “Yep?” She knew better, but Ali couldn’t stop the need to know. “How long did it take?”

  “Take? For what?”

  “For you to become so damned caring?”

  He exhaled as if she was a nuisance and he didn’t care what she thought. “What difference does it make to that stiff lying in the mud?”

  He was right, of course, which made her wonder if he would feel the same way about his partner. Enough! She had to stop thinking that way. She had to trust him.

  “Do us both a favor, Gun. Pay a little attention to what Supervisor Hamm is saying.”

  “Don’t need to.”

  “Aren’t we just full of ourselves?”

  “No. I’ve been there. It sucks so bad, once you’ve seen it, you never need a refresher.”

  “Damn. That’s encouraging.”

  “It’s not meant to be.”

  She scowled at him and then shielded her face from his close scrutiny. “You’re so giving. I didn’t ask for encouragement.”

  “You’re a wiseass, and if you need encouragement, you’ll have to ask for it.” He bumped her knee with his.

  Catching Supervisor Hamm’s look of irritation, Ali cupped her hand to her mouth to muffle her angry response.

  “I’d rather sleep with Armondez and all his men before asking a frigging thing of you.”

  Supervisor Hamm tapped his pen on the table, the sharp noise grating on the edges of her raw nerves. “You two can jaw later. Grab your belongings. We just got news the schedule has been accelerated. We’re going to the rifle range, where you can really get under each other’s skin.”

  Chapter 4

  Gun stared out the van window until the driver turned off the highway and drove down a narrow, weed-choked road. He’d been here before. The rifle range was a wind-driven piece of dirt surrounded by bunker-like berms and bullet-riddled mock-up buildings.

  They were there to test fire the weapon he and Ali would use to take Armondez out. Donavon sat with Rance in the middle row of seats. She hadn’t spoken for thirty minutes. He liked that she wasn’t chatty.

  The van rolled to a stop near a dilapidated shell of a building, and the agents climbed out. It was hammer time. Gun fell in behind Hamm, who carried a dark leather case. He set the case down on a battered wooden table and motioned for the agents to gather around.

  “Donavon, Gun. Over here.” Hamm opened the case and brought out the weapon he had chosen for them. He held up the sleek, no-nonsense .338 Lapua Magnum sniper rifle. “This weapon is a rotating-bolt, manually operated rifle with a Zeiss scope. It will bring down a water buffalo at 15,000 meters.” Hamm lowered the rifle and looked at his team. “This weapon is the T-76 longbow, tactical engagement rifle. Vastly superior to .30 rifles without the weight of a .50 caliber. The weapon’s failure ratio is zilch. It won’t let you down.”

  Ali seemed to be impressed, edging closer to Hamm. All Gun could see was the top of her head and strands of hair that were caught up in the blustery wind. She still wore the big old parka she’d snagged from the lost-and-found. The thing swallowed her slim figure. Come to think of it, he’d never seen her figure.

  “Gun, you want to join us over here? Maybe fire this weapon a few times?”

  “Be glad to, sir.” Gun appeared nonchalant, but he felt pissed off at himself. He’d been checking out his partner.

  He checked the magazine, worked the bolt to lay a round in the chamber. “Nice action, sir.”

  “Let’s see how accurate it is.” Hamm signaled for the target boards to be raised. “Start anywhere you like.”

  Gun knew weapons, and he liked the feel of the Beretta. Just enough weight to remind you it was there, but not enough to weigh a man down. Just the way he liked his women. An odd sensation made him look to his left. Ali was staring at him, her icy-blue gaze serious as hell.

  “Don’t worry.” He figured she was grading him. “I never miss what I aim at.”

  She gave him the bird and smiled at him with her teeth. “Famous last words.”

  He pulled the cold stock to his shoulder and cradled it against his cheek. Sighting the 500-yard target, he pulled the trigger. The kick should’ve loosened his molars.

  “Let’s see what you scored.” Hamm signaled for the target. He studied it with a shake of his head.

  Gun wasn’t concerned. He knew he’d hit it dead center and finished taking his shots. All bull’s-eyes. He turned around when Hamm called for Ali to fire.

  She took the rifle from him with her strong-looking hands and immediately worked the bolt to drop a round in the chamber. She shrugged the parka off and raised the rifle to her shoulder. He liked her moxie, but her fine ass got most of his attention. While her jeans worked up between her butt cheeks, he was getting hard.

  The way she took aim was exactly what he would have told her to do. He realized she had been holding her breath until she pulled the trigger.

  “Dead Eye Dick,” Rance yelled from the trench under the targets. “Perfect center shot.”

  Gun was impressed. She was an ace. While Ali reloaded and blew the hell out of the target, he gained some decent respect for her. She was a top gunner, but would she hold up under a drug dealer’s crazy shit?

  The supervisor obviously liked her. Hamm crowded around her along with the other agents to slap her on the back, helping her into her coat. She had to have been cold as hell, but too proud to let on. Yeah, she was lean and mean. He liked that. When he joined the group, she glanced over Rance’s shoulder, giving him a wiseass grin.

  The agents all climbed in the van and headed back to the agency. This time, Gun claimed the seat next to Ali.

  “So, Donavon.” He appreciated the blank stare he got for his audacity in sitting beside her. “How’s a chick learn to shoot like that?”

  “What’s the matter, Gunnison?” She brushed at her flyaway hair. “You jealous?”

  “Who, me?” He draped his arm across the back of her seat. “See, I just have this need to know everything about the person who’s going to be covering my ass.”

  Her snort of der
ision was funny as hell to him. “It’s not your ass I’ll be watching.” She went into her silent mode again.

  He nudged her knee with his. “I’ll be watching yours.”

  She gave him the deadpan expression.

  “What?” He knew what. She wanted to slug him.

  She shrugged away from him and leaned against the side door. He liked her. That wasn’t part of the deal, but he wouldn’t fight it if she didn’t.

  * * * *

  After the group arrived back at the agency’s building, Ali gave the guys time to settle in to their places before going in to join them. She needn’t have gone to the trouble. Gun didn’t appear to know she was anywhere around. Damn. She had to quit running and meet him head on, or they would crash out there in the jungle.

  Putting her perturbing partner out of her thoughts was easy as she looked at the super-sized maps of Colombia and the city of Bogotá. Gun looked bored while she took in every tree and mud hole.

  “How far is Armondez’s plantation from our hotel?”

  Hamm studied the green-shadowed, whitewashed villa. “Ten miles of twisting, flooded, snake-infested trail. Kept that way to deter the authorities and thieves.”

  Gun looked at her while he questioned the supervisor. “Show us the trail again. Is that a new one?”

  Hamm nodded. “It is. The old one washed out last year.” He tapped the enlarged photo. “This one is exclusively for Armondez’s runners to carry orders back and forth from the coca farmers.”

  He handed out more pictures of the trail as well as the extraction site. All the directions and times of predetermined events were neatly drawn up on each photo.

  “Donavon, you and Gun hunker down over this map. You leave in two days.”

  Two days. She had expected more time to work on her relationship with her partner. Hamm added a final note.

  “You two talk about this. Get your new names straight and act like you like each other, Goddamn it.”

  She laughed, but her heart wasn’t in it. The scraping of a chair on the tile floor alerted Ali that Gun was coming around to her side of the table. He leaned over her, and his shoulder holster bumped her head.

  “Either stand on my left, or take that cannon out of its holster.”

  “Complain, complain.” He moved to lean over her left shoulder and eyed the spread of photos in front of her. “Those don’t tell about the heat, stinking water holes, flies, and mosquitoes as big as small children.” He sat down next to her. “It gets real the minute you step off the plane.”

  Ali faced him. “I know you’ve been there. What can you tell me about it?”

  He looked at her through a dark scowl that hardened the contours of his mouth and chin. His voice was controlled, but she read the powerful undercurrent.

  “Yeah. I’ve been there.” He picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. “Didn’t like it much. You won’t either.”

  She shrugged and took the cup from him. “I don’t plan on feeling anything while I’m there.”

  Ali understood that’s how Gun handled everything. No frills, no emotion. Maybe it was best.

  Hamm interrupted the hushed conversation with an announcement for her only. “Donavon. My secretary will accompany you to a local boutique not far from here to buy your working clothes. Lola will help you select items, and she has been given use of an agency debit card. She’s ready to leave now, I believe.”

  Ali looked around and saw Lola motioning to her from the doorway. Lola was five-foot-nothing and probably weighed ninety pounds. But her smile was tremendous.

  The boutique was around the corner from the agency and next to a newsstand/video place. The windows were covered with iron bars, and a buzzer sounded to let them inside the place. Ali took in the scene of rack after rack hung with dresses made of the sheerest material thinkable. Of course there was the low, sensuous thump of strip music in the background.

  She nudged Lola’s arm. “I don’t see any long-johns.”

  Lola laughed and inclined her head toward several girls looking through the racks. “It isn’t John’s underwear most of these chicks want.”

  Ali laughed and picked up a micro-mini of pink eyelash fabric. “How’s this?”

  She thought Lola would laugh, but she nodded. “Put a black tee with it, and yeah. It’s perfect.”

  While Lola picked things off the racks and tables, Ali tried them on and modeled the revealing fashions. She had to admit the white jersey with the huge blue floral print was kind of okay.

  Having on few undergarments worked well with the mini-dress and its slashed ruffled neckline and flirty little skirt. “Hey, Lola. Can I keep this stuff?”

  Lola gave her a knowing look. “What’s his name?”

  “Don’t know his name yet.” What a lie. She knew exactly who she wanted to wear the dress for. Exhaling in exasperation, she looked in the three-way mirror, liking the way the skirt drifted about her thighs. The fabric was like cream moving over her bare skin. She stepped out of the fitting room.

  “That’s perfect.” Lola handed her another armload of dresses, skirts, and tops. “I tossed in a swimsuit, too. Never know when you and Gun might get to take a few laps.”

  “I won’t hold my breath. He’s not the playful type.”

  Lola shook her head, rummaging through the stack of bras and panties spilling off the edge of a table. “Still waters, my momma always said.”

  Tired of trying on the hooker-style clothing, Ali waved off the next pile of extraordinary junk. “Lola, I don’t plan on being there any longer than absolutely necessary. Enough already. No more.”

  Lola’s mouth pouted momentarily. “Okay. I guess you’re right.” She went to the counter to pay for the dozen outfits. They left with three shopping bags filled with everything from panties to platform heels.

  When Ali walked into the conference room, the guys were still hard at work. She felt left out. Dropping the shopping bags on the floor, she sat down. Every man in the room turned to look at her. Even Gun.

  “What? What’s going on?” She kicked the bags under the table.

  “Now that you’re back, Donavon, we can set the plan into motion.” Hamm pulled down the large viewing screen.

  There were more pictures of the plantation and the surrounding jungle and trails. At one side were figures, detailing exact placement of the hovels and trees. Most important, the extraction site and the time the chopper would arrive to pick them up were marked with a large red X.

  She wrote furiously in her notebook. All the notes in the world wouldn’t save her ass if she screwed up. With that sober thought, she looked in Gun’s direction. He looked like he was falling asleep. Shit. He’d probably been out partying all night.

  “All right. Donavon and Gun. We have reliable information that Armondez is planning to leave Colombia for a while. Your departure time has been moved up. Be here and be prepared to leave in the morning at ten o’clock. Your flight and hotel reservations are confirmed. There will be a Jeep for you at the airport.” Hamm nodded at them. “That’s all, except stay on your toes. Both of you.”

  Ali had a horrible sinking sensation in her stomach. All the bravado crap with Gun, and now the time had arrived. She was his for the next shitty period of her life.

  There wasn’t even time to pop in to visit her crazy family in Charleston. She hadn’t seen them for several months. Considering who her partner was now, she figured it best she stayed away from them while he was in the picture. Her father wouldn’t understand him, and her cousin would have him unzipped before the door closed.

  Shrugging into her parka, she grabbed the shopping bags and started to leave the building.

  “Hey, Donavon. Want a ride to the hotel?”

  “Sure.” She loved Gun’s look of genuine shock at her quick acceptance.

  He held his keys in his fingertips and grinned at her. “Okay.” He took the shopping bags from her hand. “Let’s go, Ace.”

  She walked beside him, wondering how long the camarader
ie would last. They left the warm building and crossed the windy parking lot to get his car.

  “Is that your ride?” She eyed the red sports car with some surprise.

  “Sure. What’s the problem?”

  She erased the mirth from her face. “No problem. It’s lovely.”

  “Cut the shit, Donavon.” He opened the door for her. “You’ll learn to love her.”

  She got in, looking around for her seatbelt. Ali felt him get in beside her. Yeah, felt. She didn’t have to see him to know he filled the space with male body heat and cursing. The motor wouldn’t turn over.

  “This cold bitch.” He turned the key one more time. “Die, you strumpet.” He hit the steering wheel with his palms.

  Ali hid a smirk under the fur of her collar. “Why don’t I just walk to the hotel?”

  She moved back to press against the door panel as he rested his arm on the back of the seat.

  “You making fun of my car?”

  “Would I do that?” She pushed the door handle down and got out, reaching in to drag out those damned shopping bags. “Why don’t you get a real car?” She glanced up at the icy-looking moon. The night didn’t seem so cold now.

  “It’s not just a car.” He locked the doors, and they began the short walk to her hotel. “Let’s get a decent cup of coffee while I explain how sweet she is.”

  He steered her toward the entrance of the café where she had almost gotten to enjoy pancakes. She thought about the million things waiting to be taken care of before they left for South America, but she would enjoy a cup that didn’t have the consistency of tar.

  “Okay, but we’ll have to drink it while we walk.” Her brows lifted in surprise as he grabbed the heavier shopping bags and led the way to the café’s door.

  Gun was an experience all his own. He charmed the waitress with a smile and a compliment on her hair before ordering a cup of coffee and a soda to go. Too bad he was so much like the bastard she’d kicked out of her apartment back home. They left with their to-go cups and sipped as they walked.