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  He didn’t have a lot of time to make a deep assessment of her looks, but quickly determined she had an awesome body. She hadn’t put soap in the water yet, just lolled back in complete relaxation while a hard stream of water gushed from the beak of the swan-head fixture. He would be doing the same thing in a heartbeat if he stayed with her.

  “Which one?” He leaned over, bracing his knee on the wide ledge of the tub while he rummaged around in the array of fancy bottles on the shelf above her head. “This one?”

  “No. The one with the red carnations.”

  Damn it. Of course it would be the one in the very back. He found what looked like carnations to him and dropped the box into the hand she held up.

  “Gun.” She was smiling seductively, her voice like a cat purring. “You’re never putting me on or in anything I don’t want to be put on or in.” Her long fingers clenched around the soap. “I made up my mind a long time ago, no man rules me or treats me rough.” She didn’t blink. “Are we clear on that?”

  Well, hell, yes. She’d conned him into a sense of false confidence, and he’d swallowed bait and hook. She wasn’t ever going to let him have the last word, or the first one. Right now, that didn’t matter. He had time to set her straight before things got serious.

  Before he could figure out how to do that, he slipped on the wet porcelain, hurtling down like a winged buzzard to sprawl on top of her and get a slap for his trouble. Water splashed over his head and down his throat. He choked, after snorting half her bath up his nose, and wheezed in surprise at her attack.

  “What the fuck, Donavon?” He coughed and swiped at his hair. “You could’ve got me in here a lot easier if you’d just asked me to jump in.”

  “Do I have to say what I’m thinking, Gun?” She caught him around the waist with her thighs and held tight.

  There was something mean and hot gleaming in her blue eyes, but he wasn’t about to probe anything just yet. Pretense was his best defense at the moment, and he braced his hands on either side of her, assuming a confused expression.

  “I have no idea what you’re thinking.” He lowered his head to gaze at the droplets of water falling from his hair onto the exposed mounds of her breasts. “I can only think about those things in my line of vision right now.”

  Her knees came up to clasp against his waist. “Have you heard of the alligator squeeze and roll?” Her smile was evil while she explained. “I can squeeze the air out of your lungs and roll over to drown you in one minute flat.”

  He didn’t believe her, but no use taking chances. “Nice, Donavon. Something the academy teaches babes now?”

  Her hands pushed against his chest, and she twined her ankles with his. “Hell, no. That’s a trick all Charleston papas teach their daughters to ward off creeps.”

  They were quiet for a time, moving a little like buoys in the slosh of the water. He glanced down at her legs and sized her up as a perfect fit to him. The need to find out for sure hit him as he moved against her. Her eyes narrowed, and a grimace touched her lips before she whispered, “Get out.”

  The erection was no longer a matter to hide. He didn’t care if she knew he was hard. Hell, she had caused the damned thing, and now he would have rock aches, too. He backed one leg over the tub and smiled at her.

  “Enjoy your soap.”

  Her foot pushed him the rest of the way out, and he couldn’t help taking one last look at her. She was unwrapping the damned soap and sniffing its perfume. As if none of the rousing, silly dunking had happened, she glanced at him and smiled. Not a sex smile, just female pleasure.

  He stood dripping and gawking, and she didn’t seem to know he existed.

  “Donavon.”

  “You still here, Gun?”

  “Yeah. I was wondering if you ever had to use that gator thing.”

  Her face glowed, wet and tanned, and her lips looked soft and supple while she laughed. “What do you think?”

  Chapter 8

  Ali stayed in the fancy bathtub longer than she normally would have. Gun’s weight and his hard body sliding back and forth between her legs against her sex had lit a blaze that demanded relief. She never had been much on self-service, but the need was immediate. Relaxed and hungry, she put a robe on and turbaned a towel around her wet hair before padding out to see what Gun was up to.

  “What are you doing?”

  She sized him up where he stood on a chair, reaching over his head to shove the rifle into the space a ceiling tile had once covered. He worked the tile back into place and looked down at her.

  “Putting our toys away before we go out.”

  Toys? Ali wished they had time to get some toys. Maybe ... No, she was on an assignment, and screwing her partner was not in the job description.

  He dusted his hands off on the seat of his navy lounge pants and gazed up at the square of tile he had replaced. Ali noted his nice ass and great-looking bulge at the front of his pants, remembering the press of his hot steel erection in the bathtub. She couldn’t remember ever being so worked up about sex.

  Now he was stroking his nice, plump pecs, idly touching his belly button when his loungers fell a little. Hair black as jet peeped out at his waistband and drew her gaze until he slowly pulled the damned pants back up over his trim hips. Man, he was tall and gorgeous, chiseled out of polished granite and warm muscle. She was licking her lips when he stepped down off the chair.

  “The food came a minute ago.” He tugged on the towel covering her hair. “You better have a bite before it gets cold.” His gaze moved slowly over her while he talked. “One other thing. I hired one of those bellhops to be our driver/guide. Okay with you?”

  He was asking her? Hell, he was human after all. “Sure, why not.”

  His smile made her think of tangled sheets before he gestured toward the serving cart. “Let’s eat.”

  She took the domed lids from the serving dishes and put a steak on her plate before sampling a bite of avocado. “Hey, nice fruit plate. Looks good.”

  “I didn’t figure you for a fruit eater. Since you know so much about gators and drowning men, I thought you were probably more of a meat eater.” He offered her a bite of orange.

  “That’s my secret.” She took her plate and sat on the bed, drawing her legs up under her. “You never tell me any personal things about yourself. I’m sure there’s plenty of dirt to dish.”

  He sat by her, Indian style, balancing his plate on his knees. “Met my first woman in the first grade. Had my first woman in seventh grade. Swore off women in the Army.”

  Ali made a scoffing sound in her throat. “You don’t have to brag it up for me. Remember, I have six brothers. They all lie to get out of pleasant conversation. You don’t want to talk seriously, just say so.” She gestured at his plate with her fork. “Can I have a bite of your pepper?”

  He picked up a slice and fed it to her, tracing her lower lip with his finger. She wanted to suck on it. His lips and on down his hard, flat belly and into the no-fly zone and do lots of tasting, teasing, and tantalizing things to him. Oh, hell, she had to get a fulltime lover and soon.

  “When we go out, the first thing we do is make sure the locals see how loaded we are with money and love.” He leaned back against the pillows and chewed a bite of steak. “They probably won’t approach us tonight, just look us over.”

  Ali removed the towel from her head, not caring if he saw her with hair that looked like a tangled bird’s nest. “Better let my hair start drying.”

  He didn’t say anything, and she liked the hint of a smile on his mouth, as if he didn’t think she looked bad at all. She got off the bed to take a bottle of water from the cart.

  “Here, you open this. I’ll get the goblets.”

  “Don’t do that. Let’s drink like the redneck I am.” He twisted off the bottle cap and tossed it toward the window. “Salute.”

  He handed the bottle to her, and she tipped it up to take a large swallow of the clear, cold liquid. “That’s very good.” She
wiped the neck with the sleeve of her robe and handed the bottle back to him, licking her lips as he took his drink. She crawled back onto the bed with him. “You look like a sultan with that bottle in your hand.”

  His dark gaze told her he was not immune to being that close to her. “I don’t know if I like looking like a sultan, Donavon. Don’t they have potbellies and short dicks?”

  Ali squelched the silly giggle that pounded on her throat to burst out. Instead, she picked a grape out of her salad plate and popped it into her mouth.

  He went back to his steak and ignored the greens on his plate. When he finished, he poured two glasses of the sweetened iced tea from an etched crystal pitcher. He looked at his watch several times.

  “Are you late for something, Gun?”

  He shook his head and handed the nearly empty bottle of water to her. “Never happen.” He slid down to lie flat on his back and closed his eyes.

  Ali sipped from the bottle while looking him over, mentally touching his black hair and lean cheeks. What would his tongue feel like, playing with, making swirling circles around her clit? Too wonderful to think about. She groaned so softly, she didn’t think he could possibly hear.

  “Something wrong, Donavon?” He sat up, propping against the pillows again, and yawned. “You okay?”

  “Sure. I’m fine. Just too much food.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of you.”

  She laughed and slid from the bed. The plates rattled as she gathered them up and set them on the service tray. “I’m going to go get dressed.”

  He sat up. “Hey. I don’t dance that shitty disco stuff.”

  Ali kept walking, looking at him over her shoulder. “Gee, what a surprise.” She paused at the bathroom door. “What are you good at?”

  “Slow, steady, and deep.” He stood and walked toward her. “I’ll show you later.”

  That was exactly what she had in mind, fool that she was. She was a sorry case of deprivation, and he was probably laughing his ass off behind her back. She hated men. Even when she tried to make one feel used and unwanted, she always came out the loser. Gun couldn’t possibly miss the heat coming from her. She was relieved when he went to the closet instead of following her.

  The mission. Keep your mind on the mission and out of his shorts.

  * * * *

  The heat slapped Gun in the face as he walked his date down the steps of the La Fontana. Midnight, and the damned air was still like warm coffee. He looked down at the beauty beside him. She looked cool and sexy.

  Donavon had redone her hair and looked good enough to eat. The outfit she had on was a barely-there pink thing with no back until it hit just above her nice, round butt. As far as he could tell, the soft-looking double ruffle floating across her breasts was the outfit’s only means of support. Looked easy enough to get off her curvy little body.

  As he helped her down the steps, his hand moved along the soft, lean line of her bare back until he reached her waist. He grinned. Yep, the slightest hint of an elastic ridge confirmed she did have underwear on. Damn it. Probably a good thing since her skirt hit around her upper thighs and sure wouldn’t hide much if she bent over.

  A glimpse of color just above her panty line held his attention. That damned tattoo again. Later, baby. One thing at a time. Looking around the courtyard before climbing in with Donavon, he heard the sound of distant gunfire. It had come from the fucking jungle.

  He hated the grip of anger and stress that hit him after catching the scent of the green hell, never far away in this place. Ali didn’t seem to notice the odor and smiled at him like his best girl would. What the fuck. Right now, she was his best girl.

  Everything was going in the right direction. Ramón, the more devious of the two bellhops, was now in Gun’s employ, driver and guide around the city. Gun made a mental note to bust Ramón’s balls for hawking Donavon.

  She stumbled on the last step and laughed at her own clumsiness. He knew she wasn’t really drunk, feeling a buzz, and ready to party. But Ramón seemed to think she was and showed her his gleaming white smile while offering to assist her. He didn’t know he was playing with a cobra.

  Gun helped her into the backseat of the rented Jeep and then got in beside her. He tapped Ramón on the shoulder.

  “What’s the holdup?” He pointed to the street. “We want to party tonight, not tomorrow.”

  Ramón turned to grin at his passengers in the backseat. “Okay. You got it.”

  The Jeep’s tires smoked and the motor roared as Ramón gave it the gas. The guy must have been a getaway driver on the side, busting down the circle drive of the hotel and bouncing over speed bumps in the straightaway on the street.

  Gun hit his driver on the shoulder. “Ramón. Buddy, I said get there, but I meant alive. Okay?”

  Ramón laughed and slowed the Jeep to a more reasonable speed. Gun leaned back and gave his full attention to Donavon.

  “So, what’s on your mind, lady?”

  He wanted to look out the window to see if they were being followed, but she hooked her arm around his neck to pull his face closer. He barely caught her whisper. “Where are you wearing your weapon?”

  He leaned closer and cupped her chin in his hand. “Want to search me?”

  Hot, raw, deprived need gripped him while she chewed her gum and checked under his arm for the small-caliber pistol he carried.

  She murmured something around her chewing gum. “Cute.”

  “Think so? Wait until I show you the really big one.”

  Gun glanced up and found Ramón watching them in the rearview mirror, ogling the goings-on in the backseat.

  “Eyes front, Ramón.”

  Ali laughed and rubbed under his arm, squeezing the pistol. “I love it, Gun. You feel awfully good.”

  “You just have good taste in men.”

  He wondered if there was any chance of not having a hard-on the entire evening. Shit, now she was practically lying on him. She sniffed his shirt collar.

  “You smell divine, you devil.”

  “The better to seduce you, my lovely.”

  He never heard the answer to his comment. The Jeep was careening into the noisy parking lot of the club. He caught Ali’s arm when she started to get out.

  “Are you really turned on, Donavon?”

  “Hell, no, so don’t get weird.”

  Okay. Things were back to normal. He motioned for Ramón to follow them. He might need help with names in the den of some of the wealthiest, most dangerous drug dealers in Colombia.

  Getting Donavon inside the nightclub was an adventure. She drew fans like a rock star. Every guy watched as he guided her across the crowded area to the entrance of the club. To get things off on the right foot, he handed the guy at the door a fifty.

  There was nothing but hostility for him in the men’s dark eyes, even though they had balls enough to lick their chops while eyeing Donavon. He remembered being the recipient of hate in this country. Burning in his memory was the way his friend had been butchered by men who looked very much like them. His blood boiled. Desire for revenge saturated his emotions. For a split second, he felt nothing but the crushing desire to kill one man. Armondez.

  Loud music from the club blasted through the door as he opened it, gripping Donavon’s hand in a viselike grip. He didn’t want to lose her in this throbbing nest of snakes.

  What a place. The floors gleamed, reflecting light from the wall of glassware behind the enormous curved bar. Gun figured the teakwood bar had to be worth a couple million. Looking at Donavon, he liked what he saw. She gave the damned disco joint class.

  They hadn’t been there more than a minute when he saw the change in her. That normally aloof, bored expression had changed to sultry excitement. She looked around, her gaze darting from him to the dance floor. Oh, no. He wasn’t getting out there with those humping idiots.

  Noticing Ramón snapping his fingers and swaying in time to the music, Gun made a seemingly unselfish suggestion while
pressing a fifty into his driver’s hand.

  “Ramón. I hate dancing. My girl, Bambi, likes it for some goddamn reason. I’m sure she’d love to dance with you.”

  He didn’t know if she was acting or not, but Donavon’s face lit up like an angel’s while she gushed womanly excitement.

  “Sweeney, you doll. You know I love to salsa.”

  Gun liked the cute little smile on her lips as Ramón led her to the mess on the dance floor. She waved at him while doing some fancy steps to that salsa stuff with Ramón.

  Now, he was alone at the damned bar and feeling strangely lonely. It was a sign of weakness to miss your partner. The atmosphere hung heavy with a dozen layers of perfume, loud laughter, and pot. The place felt wrong to him. He couldn’t put a name on it, but it probably meant trouble.

  He ordered a beer and pulled out a wad of bills, nothing smaller than hundreds, and dropped a hundred on the bar, then leaned back to rest his elbows on the bar between two thugs in matching outfits. Black as night, just like their damned personalities. They hadn’t missed his easy way with money. The game had begun, and he forced himself to temper his breathing.

  When the two pricks weren’t staring at him, they mentally licked Donavon while she played around with Ramón. Gun was interested in her, too. She was sexy as hell, and evil, to boot. She didn’t want anything from him, and she never asked those female questions. His life was private. Yeah, a private hell.

  Uh-oh. Trouble. Ramón was having a problem explaining to another guy that Donavon only danced with him. Time for the big dog to bark.

  Chapter 9

  Ali looked up, relieved to see Gun pushing his way through the crowd on the dance floor. He didn’t excuse himself, shouldering several Don Juans aside as Ali reached for his arm.

  “Hi, baby doll. It’s time you came back to your man.”

  He grabbed her hand and kept her close as he led her away, stopping in the semi-dark near the bar, where they had a hurried conversation.