Come Midnight by Kat Martin

CHAPTER EIGHT

BREEHELD DEREK’Shand as they crossed the clearing in the wake of Cisco’s stout, thick-shouldered frame. Night had fallen, the darkness lit by the orange-red glow of burning campfires.

A large tent had been set up a short distance from the rest of the camp. Cisco motioned them inside. Derek led the way, ducking his head, stepping onto a thick wool carpet that covered the floor in a bright-colored native design.

Bree let go of Derek’s hand as Rafael Castillo rose from an ornately carved wooden chair at a round, leather-topped table. A second man rose from the opposite side—blond, blue-eyed Julio Montez. His gaze ran over Bree, and a shiver of foreboding crawled up her spine.

Only Castillo approached, but it was Montez whose presence chilled her. She focused on the man with the scarred eyebrow, El Defensor, the leader of the group.

“Ms. Wingate.” Castillo took her hand and brought it to his lips as if he were a courtier instead of a terrorist. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Bree made no reply.

“I spoke to your father,” Castillo continued. “As you know, tomorrow is the last day for him to gather the necessary funds for your release. He assures me he will have them ready by the end of the day. Should that occur, the following morning, you will be transported by helicopter to the rendezvous site, where the money will be transferred by computer, deposited into an offshore account. After the transaction is complete, you will be released.”

She squared her shoulders. “Along with my fiancé, correct?”

He shrugged. “If that is your wish.”

“I won’t leave without him. You may tell my father that.”

Castillo flicked a nearly imperceptible glance at Montez before he answered. “As I said, that is your decision.” His lips tipped into a smile. “Enough talk of business. Tomorrow our goal will be met, our task here completed. Tonight we celebrate. You will enjoy a meal of roast pig served with machuca and boiled mashed plantains. Also pupusas, thick tortillas served with frijoles. You will drink our special horchata mixed with guaro, a liquor made of sugarcane. It is quite delicious.”

Montez said nothing, but his smug, predatory gaze made his intentions clear. No way was she drinking alcohol tonight.

“You are both dressed for the evening,” Castillo said. “Shall we join the festivities?” He offered her his arm, and though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she accepted, lacing her arm through his. She didn’t miss the dark look on Derek’s face as Montez held open the tent flap and she and Castillo walked past him into the night.

They paused next to the largest campfire in the circle, where a makeshift table and chairs had been set up and draped with a bright-colored, striped woven cloth. Castillo pulled out a chair and seated her, waited for Derek to sit down, then seated himself. An empty chair beside him waited for Montez.

Then one of Castillo’s men came forward, bent and whispered something that Bree couldn’t hear.

“I’m afraid you will have to excuse me,” Castillo said, rising. “Enjoy the meal, and perhaps we shall speak more later.”

Bree sincerely hoped not. The only thing worse than being with Castillo was the thought of being with Montez. She caught the glint of his blond head as he bent to speak to one of the young women who worked in the camp. They were prostitutes, Derek had told her, probably brought in for the occasion. Bree prayed Montez’s lascivious attentions would fix on the other women and he would leave Bree alone.

Derek must have sensed her worry. As soon as Castillo walked away, he leaned toward her. “Stay close. I don’t trust that bastard. Hell, I don’t trust either one of them, but it’s Montez who’s set his sights on you.”

“There’s something scary about him. He gives me the creeps.”

A muscle tightened in Derek’s cheek as Pilar and another young woman walked up to serve them. They set two steaming plates of food on the table in front of Bree and Derek, along with two glasses of a milky-white liquid that smelled like cinnamon.

“Eat,” Pilar said. “You will want to be in your quarters before the men get drunk and go after the women.” She looked at Bree. “They will not care whose daughter you are.”

A chill swept through her. “What about you?”

With her onyx-black hair and high cheekbones, she was exotically beautiful. Her slender figure caught the eye of every man she passed.

“I am Cisco’s woman. They will not bother me.” Pilar turned and walked away.

Thinking of what could happen, Bree looked down at her steaming plate of food, but she was no longer hungry.

Derek reached over and took her hand. “I’m here. I won’t let any of them near you.”

But it wasn’t a promise he could keep. If the men or Montez decided they wanted her, there was no way one man could stop them.

Derek squeezed her fingers. “Eat, baby. We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. You need to keep up your strength.”

He was right. As she watched him dig in with the gusto of a starving man, Bree forced herself to shovel a forkful of the roasted meat into her mouth. After the first two bites, her hunger returned, and she cleaned the rest of her plate.

She had just finished when she felt a presence and looked up to see Julio Montez standing next to her chair. Her stomach contracted, and she swallowed to keep down the food she had just consumed.

“Did you try the horchata?” Julio asked with one of his lascivious smiles.

She’d tasted the drink just to see what was in it, a combination of milk, sugar, cinnamon, vanilla and strong sugarcane liquor.

“I tried it,” she said.

“Perhaps you would join me for another glass. We could discuss your upcoming departure.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw the muscles across Derek’s shoulders tighten.

“I’m afraid I’m not feeling very well. The day was long and tiring. Perhaps another time.” She smiled, hoping to placate him at least for tonight.

He gave her a nod of understanding. “Of course. Tomorrow then. I’ll enjoy talking to someone from the United States. My mother is American. I went to college there for a while.” His English was perfect, she’d noticed, and he oozed enough charm to impress any number of women. But there was something in those ice-blue eyes that put her on alert.

Bree followed his gaze to the edge of the clearing, where a young prostitute stood waiting.

“Good night.” Montez gave her a final smile and strode off in the woman’s direction.

Bree’s stomach settled as relief filtered through her. She turned back to Derek, whose hard body still vibrated with tension. She rested her hand on his cheek and felt the roughness of his unshaven jaw. “It’s okay. He’s gone.”

The muscles across those broad shoulders relaxed. “He won’t bother you tonight. He’s got another woman to take care of his needs.”

The minute the words were out, a flash of heat darkened the gold in his eyes. It reminded her that Derek had needs as well. So did she. She wished they were somewhere else, a place where they could explore their attraction.

“Come on,” Derek said, rising. Taking her hand, he urged her up from the chair and led her back to the false safety of the tent.

“No lamp,” he said. “The less attention we draw, the better.” Fortunately, the moon shining through the canvas brightened the interior enough to see.

Bree eyed the narrow cots. “I wish we could sleep next to each other the way we did before.”

“Maybe this will help.” Derek rearranged the cots, pulling them together. “Best I can do.” She couldn’t get as close to him as she wanted, but she was really glad to have him there.

“When this is over—”

He caught her face between his hands and kissed her, long and deep. “When this is over, princess, I’m going to make up for all the hours I’ve wanted you and couldn’t have you.”

Bree nodded. “Yes, please,” she said.

WHILE BREANNASLEPT, Derek lay awake considering his options. If there’d been any way he could have taken control of the helicopter and flown them out of the jungle that night, he might have tried it. But it would be dangerous enough in the daytime.

He’d never soloed in a chopper. Hell, he’d only flown one a couple of times. Aside from that, he needed to use landmarks to get his bearings. He only had a vague idea where they were, or which way would lead them to civilization.

Resigned to playing whatever hand they were dealt, he finally managed to fall asleep. He was the kind of guy who woke at the least disturbance, so he figured he’d be awake before danger could reach them. Since he’d barely napped on the plane or in the jungle, he needed the rest, needed to be at the top of his game for whatever they faced tomorrow.

There was no way to know what the terrorists would do when Wingate paid the ransom—assuming he managed to get it done. What happened tomorrow could mean life or death for one or both of them.

It was late when a noise near the tent penetrated his slumber—the grunting sounds of a man and a woman having sex. He felt Bree stir beside him. They weren’t touching, but they were as close as the cots would allow. The mating sounds grew louder, panting, harsh breathing, the woman’s moans of pleasure.

“They’re having sex,” Bree whispered. “Right outside the tent.”

“Yeah.” His voice sounded thick as he tried not think of Bree’s pretty breasts, of kissing a path down her tempting curves, of burying himself inside her.

She rolled onto her side and slid her arms around his neck. “Touch me, Derek. Please...”

“Jesus, baby.” But he couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss those soft pink lips. She tasted as good as she had before, something sweet and as wild as the jungle. Every nerve ending in his body ignited with desire for her.

“I need you, Derek.” She pressed her mouth against the side of his neck, trailed kisses down to his collarbone. It took every ounce of his will to ignore the plea in her voice and the blood burning through his veins.

“If they hear us, they might come into the tent. I’m not willing to share you with half a dozen men.”

She made a little sound in her throat, shuddered and eased away. “I know you’re right. I just... Tomorrow anything could happen. We could both die, Derek.”

“We could. Or we could get the hell out of here and spend the next week in bed somewhere safe. I could make love to you until neither of us could move.”

He caught the hint of a smile on her face. “I bet you’re great in bed.”

Derek grinned. “I’m pretty sure I won’t disappoint you.”

Bree turned to smother a laugh in his shoulder. Thank God, the grunting had stopped and whoever was out there had drifted off into the night.

“Get some sleep, darlin.’ We need to be ready for whatever happens tomorrow.”

She nodded and moved away from him. A few minutes later, he heard the sound of her deep breathing. He must have fallen asleep after that.

Light streaming through the canvas finally woke him. Bree was already up and dressed, sitting on the cot next to his.

“Good morning,” she said.

He smiled. “Well, look at you, princess. Already up and ready for the day. You been keeping watch so I could sleep?”

“You needed the rest, and it was my turn.”

Derek swung his legs over the edge of the cot and stood up. With the drunken men and women in the camp last night, both of them had slept in their clothes, or at least he had only stripped off his long-sleeved camo T-shirt. He plucked it off the end of the cot and dragged it on over his head, ignored the sandals and pulled on the heavy leather boots he’d worn in the jungle.

“Maybe we can find some coffee,” he said.

“I sure hope so.”

The morning air was humid but not yet hot. A layer of clouds circled the top of the mountain, but it was sunny this far down the hill. After making a stop at the camp latrine, they found Pilar, who rustled up tin mugs of the boiled coffee the women made in big blue porcelain pots.

Though the helicopter still sat in the flat spot Derek could see through the trees, there was no sign of El Defensor or Julio Montez, which suited Derek just fine. It wasn’t until the middle of the afternoon that trouble arrived in the form of Montez.