Come Midnight by Kat Martin

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ITWASAMAZINGhow circumstances could change. What to Derek had looked like another group of hostiles was actually a bunch of villagers working together against a local band of thieves.

The thieves had been raiding nearby settlements, and the men had set out to catch them. They’d been searching when they’d spotted the chopper and heard the engine misfire. The guns were only a precaution.

The men spoke Spanish, making it easy for him to communicate. Since he wasn’t sure where the villagers’ sympathies lay, he told them he and his wife were on vacation when they had been kidnapped by hostiles. Although they managed to escape in a stolen chopper, they needed to report the bandits to the authorities and call Bree’s father, who would be worried about his daughter.

The story seemed to satisfy the men, who led them into the tiny village of Santa Margarita. It was little more than a scattering of wood-framed houses painted an array of once-bright colors, clustered around a block-long dirt street.

The leader of the group, Paco Arnolde, a sinewy man with darkly tanned skin and a heavily weathered face, was the local alcaldía—mayor of the town. There were no police, Paco said, but there was a cantina.

“In the cantina, you will find food,” the mayor announced, “and there are rooms upstairs. Also there is a telephone. You will need money, though, for the room and the food.” He grinned proudly, exposing a missing tooth. “Or you can pay with Visa.”

Derek grinned back. “We can do that.” His card was in the wallet the hijackers had taken, but he knew the number. Hopefully that would work.

Paco led them down the dirt street while children in ragged clothes darted around them, surveying them with smiles and curiosity as they played some kind of stick-and-ball game.

El Gato Azulcantina, the Blue Cat, looked like a two-story shed, with a roof that sloped away from the street and doors off a second-floor balcony.

There were glass-paned windows in the rooms upstairs, but the ones downstairs were covered by wooden shutters that had been propped open. Paco led them into the cantina and introduced them to the owner, Bernardo Garcia. Bernardo was short and fat, and his black eyes seemed to gleam with dollar signs when he looked at Derek and Bree.

“You and your wife wish to rent a room, Señor?”

“Si, and we need to use your telephone.”

“Si, si. I will take very good care of you.”

Derek turned back to the mayor. “We appreciate everything you’ve done, Señor Arnolde. I’d appreciate if you’d let us know if any strangers show up in town. I don’t think the hostiles will come after us, but there’s no way to know for sure.”

“Si, I will let my men know to keep watch.”

“Gracias.” Derek stuck out a hand. The men shook, and Paco departed.

“First, I show you the telephone.” Bernardo waddled ahead of them to an old-fashioned pay phone mounted on the wall.

“Gracias,” Derek said. He waited till Bernardo returned to work behind the cantina bar and turned to Bree.

“We need to call your dad first. Let him know we’re safe before he pays the ransom.”

She nodded. “I’ll make the call. Dad will send someone to pick us up, but it might take a while for them to get here.”

Lifting the receiver off the hook, she pressed it against her ear, called for an operator and gave them a credit card number.

“It worked,” she said, smiling.

“So far, so good.”

He could only hear Bree’s half of the conversation, but from what he could tell, Jonathan Wingate was nearly in tears.

“It’s okay, Dad, really. I’m okay. Both of us are safe.” Her eyes filled, and she swallowed. “I love you, Dad. Tell Mom I love her and I’ll see you both soon.”

Her dad said something else, and Bree took a moment to compose herself. She wiped away a tear, glanced at Derek and smiled as she continued the conversation. “I can’t wait for you to meet Derek,” she said. “He saved my life, Dad. He saved both our lives.”

Derek felt a sudden chill. The rest of the conversation was lost as he thought about what Jonathan Wingate would say when they met. By now, the man would know everything about him, including his ugly past. No father, a drunken, drug addict mother. His years in one foster home after another. He was Texas trailer trash, and Bree was Seattle royalty.

Didn’t matter that he was a corporate executive now. Nothing could change the past.

Bree hung up the phone. “I told him what happened, how we got away and where we are now. He flew into El Salvador after he got the ransom call. He’s working on getting us out of here, but it may take a while.”

Derek just nodded. As soon as they got back to San Salvador, he’d call the office. He didn’t have any family, aside from a few distant cousins he refused to claim. But his staff and the close friends he had made in the company would be worried about him.

Bernardo waddled up beside them. “You must be tired. I will take you up to your room.” He handed Bree a paper bag. “My wife sends you some baleadas.” Bree’s gaze flashed to Derek’s as she accepted the bag. No way were either of them hungry enough to eat more baleadas, they silently agreed.

“Thank you,” Bree said.

“Dinner will be ready at six,” Bernardo added. “It will be served downstairs, and it comes with the room.”

“That sounds great,” Bree said, her Spanish as good or better than Derek’s. They followed Bernardo up a set of stairs that opened onto the balcony, then followed him to the last door at the end. He opened the door and waited for them to walk inside.

Linoleum floors, two double beds with worn fringed bedspreads, a battered nightstand with a lamp covered by a faded red-fringed silk shade.

“There is a bathroom behind that door.” He pointed in that direction. “If there is anything you need, just let me know.”

Bree smiled. “Thank you, Señor Garcia.”

The room wasn’t much, but the bathroom was a bonus, and the place was clean. And there were actual mattresses on the beds.

Garcia waddled back the way he had come, closing the door behind him, and Bree headed for the bathroom. Derek watched the gathered skirt sway as she crossed the room, her hips moving enticingly. He remembered the feel of her breasts in his palm, and his groin tightened. The shower went on, and he clenched his jaw against the need to join her.

Bree came out a few minutes later dressed once more in the skirt and off-the-shoulder white blouse—the only clothes she had. Derek walked past her into the bathroom, just a toilet, sink and rusted stall shower.

When he came out a few minutes later in the camo pants he’d been given last night, he felt a hundred pounds lighter. Barefoot and shirtless, he walked over to where Bree sat on the bed and sank down beside her.

“It’s almost over,” she said, combing her fingers through her thick, damp blond hair.

Derek tried not to think how pretty she looked with her big blue eyes and her face freshly washed, her cheeks pink in the sunlight streaming in through the window. She was naturally beautiful. There wasn’t a thing about her he would change.

He tried not to think about what it had felt like to kiss her, to touch her. He tried not to want her again. It wouldn’t be fair. Not when he knew there was no way they could be together.

Bree reached up and cupped his cheek. “I don’t know how long it will take my dad to get us out of here.”

“We’ll make the best of it, same as we did before.”

“Before there was an army of men with weapons ready to kill us. Now there’s just you and me.” She waited for him to kiss her. When he fisted his hands to keep from touching her, she leaned over and settled her mouth over his. Her lips were plump and warm, and it took every ounce of will to capture her wrists and ease her away.

“There are things about me you don’t know, Bree. My past...it isn’t exactly sterling.”

“I don’t care about your past. That has nothing to do with the man you are now.”

He shook his head. “I’m not like you, Bree. I never had a father. My mother was a drug addict. I was raised in foster care, shifted from one place to another. Your parents...they’d never accept me. I’m not the guy for you, Bree.”

She looked up at him, her pretty blue eyes filled with tears. “I don’t care about your parents or what happened to you in the past. I care about the man who stepped up beside me on that plane. The man who risked his life to protect me.”

His chest ached. He just shook his head.

“Tell me you don’t want me.”

Everything inside him tightened. His fist clenched so hard, his hand shook where it rested on his knee. “I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you.”

“I want this moment, Derek. I want you. The future will determine itself. If you want me—”

There was no way he could refuse. Not now. His mouth crushed down over hers, stopping the words. He wanted her. So much he ached with it. And Bree wanted him. Whatever happened, he wanted this memory, these precious hours with a woman who meant more to him than any woman he had ever known.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to touch her beautiful body. He wanted to be inside her.

There would be no stopping now. Not this time.

He kissed her with all the feelings he knew he shouldn’t have. He showed her how he felt by the way his hands slid reverently over her body, showed her with another deep kiss how much she had come to mean to him.

In seconds her blouse was gone, his mouth fastened on a pale, perfect breast. Bree made a soft sound in her throat and arched her back, giving him better access.

Derek eased her down on the bed and unbuttoned her skirt, drew it over her hips, down her shapely legs. Her calves were nicely muscled, her ankles trim. He pressed his mouth there and felt the rapid beat of her heart against his tongue.

Neither of them wore anything under their clothes. They had long ago abandoned the wet garments to the jungle. He kissed his way up over her knee, along her bare thigh. He wanted her to remember this, remember him. When she belonged to another, more suitable man, he wanted a faint memory of their time together to whisper through her heart.

She cried out as he pleasured her, her hands combing through his damp hair, then fisting in the sheets. Her climax hit hard, drawing a moan from her throat.

Derek felt a surge of male satisfaction. He couldn’t have her, but she wouldn’t forget him, he vowed as he drove her up again.

Bree whimpered as he moved above her. Claiming her mouth, he kissed her deeply, took his time and felt her respond again, pleased that he could arouse her so easily, proof she had wanted him as much as he wanted her. He kissed her softly, then fiercely, kissed her until she was saying his name over and over, her nails digging into his shoulders. She was begging him to take her as he slid himself deeply inside.

He didn’t have a condom. He would have to pull out, have to be careful, but his own pleasure didn’t matter. He wanted this, wanted just to be with her, to claim her in some way. As the pleasure increased, he realized part of him would like nothing more than for Bree to end up with his child. She would have to marry him then.

The knowledge hit him like a brick. He was in love with her. After what they had endured and the strength she had shown, how could he not be?

He took her hard, took her deep, did his best to claim her mind as well as her body. Her release struck and she tightened around him, driving him to the brink. He pulled out before he reached release and rolled away from her, protecting her as he’d done from the moment he had met her.

“Derek...” The soft sigh of his name made his chest ache. He wanted to turn back to her, take her again. Instead, he got up and used the bathroom, returned and pulled her close beside him. For a time, he just held her, memorizing the way she felt in his arms. They dozed for a while, feeling safe for the first time in days.

At the touch of her fingertip running lightly over the muscles on his chest, he opened his eyes.

“I was right,” she said. “I knew you’d be good in bed.”

He smiled, caught her hand and kissed the back. “I’m glad you were pleased.”

“I knew we didn’t have a condom.”

His body pulsed with unspent desire. “I figured you’d trust me to take care of it.”

“I trust you, Derek. I haven’t had the best luck with men, but the luckiest day of my life was the day you sat down in the seat next to me on that plane.”

Derek said nothing. Nothing he could say would change the way things were.

“Kiss me, Derek. Make love to me again.”

“We took a big risk the first time.”

She leaned over him and smiled. “All right, then I’ll make love to you.”

And she did.