Читать книгу Man With A Mission - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 9

A soft knock on Maya Stevenson’s door made her lift her head from the slew of paperwork that littered her desk. Her door was always open, but her people gave a perfunctory knock anyway.

“Come in, Ana.” She gestured to the wooden chair to the left of her desk. “Have a seat.” She noticed that Lieutenant Ana Lucia Cortina was in her black, snug-fitting helicopter uniform, her helmet tucked beneath her left arm. She had been on twenty-four-hour duty and had just flown a mission four hours ago. She looked tired. There were smudges beneath her glorious cinnamon-colored eyes. Her ebony hair, frayed from wearing the helmet, was still in a chignon at the nape of her slender neck.

“Hi…thanks…” Ana gave Maya a slight, weary smile.

“How’d the flight go?” Maya noticed as Ana set the helmet down on the desk that she looked drawn. Maya knew why. The death of her fiancé a year ago was still wearing on Ana. And Maya knew that today was Roberto’s birthday. He would have been twenty-eight years old, if he’d lived. She wished that she could love someone as much as Ana had loved Roberto, but no man had entered her life to make her feel that way. Maya had long ago given up hoping such a man existed for her.

“We got jumped by a Kamov Black Shark helicopter flown by Faro Valentino’s Russian mercenaries near the Bolivian border,” Ana murmured, sitting down in the chair. Lifting her long, slender arms, she pulled her black hair out of the tight knot at the base of her neck, shook her head and allowed the strands to tumble across her proud shoulders. “Nothing new. I took a few bullet holes in the fuselage of my Apache, but otherwise, no casualties. My crew is going to have to check it to make sure no bullets have nicked the cables in that area, but that’s all.”

“Hmm.” Maya frowned, tinkering with the silver pen between her fingers. “Get any rockets off at them?”

One corner of Ana’s full mouth lifted slightly. “Oh, yes. We got close but didn’t bring it down.” She scowled, her fine, thin black brows bunching. “I just wish we had radar capability to pick up their signature, Maya. Whatever kind of paint they’ve got on those Kamovs, we can’t detect them, and they jump us from behind every time. One of these days we’re going to get shot down,” she said, grimacing.

“I know…what we need are those new Boeing D model Apaches that came out last year. I hear through the transom that they still don’t pick up the Black Shark signature, but at least we’d have a better helo than our Russian counterpart in every other way. Right now, we’re hurting. Our budget can’t afford one.”

Ana ran her fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp. “Ugh, that helmet is so heavy. I get a headache every time.” She opened her eyes and smiled at Maya, who was dressed in the same type of black uniform. Her commanding officer’s black hair was a little longer than hers, and she wore it down when she didn’t have to fly. “I’ve given up hope of us ever getting the new D model, Maya. The U.S. Army wants to ignore the fact that we’re down here doing a fine job of stopping drug runners from reaching the Bolivian border. Because we’re a bunch of upstart women army officers.”

“Humph, isn’t that the truth.” Maya set the pen aside and leaned back in her creaky old leather chair. Outside her opened door, women clerks who worked in the headquarters building of their base, hidden deep inside a cave, moved up and down the corridor like worker bees. Keeping her voice down, Maya said to Ana, “I have a project for you, if you want it.”

Perking up, Ana said, “Oh? What? Do I get some R and R over in Agua Caliente? Do I get to stay in Gringo Bill’s Hostel and rest up? I’m dying for one of Patrick’s mocha lattes at India Feliz Restaurant.” She laughed softly, knowing that they were far too shorthanded for Maya to give her a well deserved day off.

Maya picked up a fax, rose and stretched across her desk to hand it to Ana. “No, sorry. I know you deserve some downtime. How’d you like to work with this guy? He’s a former U.S. Army Ranger captain.”

Ana took the flimsy piece of paper. The black-and-white photo of a man, his face square, eyes penetrating, mouth full but unsmiling, stared back at her. For whatever reason, Ana’s heart gave a lurch. Puzzled as to why, she studied the photo, which showed the army officer in his military uniform, ribbons and all. She recognized the parachute wings on the left breast pocket, and the ribbons he’d accrued were impressive. Despite his rock-hard expression, Ana’s intuition told her this was a man with a heart and a conscience. She had nothing to prove that, of course; it was simply something she felt to be true. And in her business as a combat pilot, her intuition was more finely honed than most. She relied on it heavily, and it had never been wrong yet.

Puzzled over why her heart had lurched unexpectedly, Ana remembered that today was Roberto’s birthday. The day that they had set for their wedding. Grief flowed through her momentarily. Well, that would never be, now. Roberto had been killed while aboard his Peruvian Navy cruiser, shot by drug runners. That was a year ago. Rubbing her heart, Ana looked up. She saw Maya studying her intently. Ana knew that look and smiled slightly.

“Okay, boss, what’s up? You’re sitting there looking at me like a jaguar eyeing a good meal.” Ana raised the fax and waved it a little. “He’s not an Apache pilot. He’s a ground pounder.”

Grinning, Maya said, “Yeah, he’s not one of us. He’s in the doggy corps.”

They both laughed. There was infamous rivalry between the U.S. Army aviation corps and the rest of the troops, which handled ground duty.

“I’ve just been told there’s a special assignment and we’ve been tapped for it,” Maya told her. “This man’s sister, Talia Travers, is a hydrologist. She finds water so wells can be dug. Anyway, she was over in Rainbow Valley when she suddenly disappeared. The foundation she works for called Jake Travers, the guy in the photo. When he tried to get the army to give him TDY—temporary duty—so he could come down here and search for his sister, they refused. So he resigned.”

“Wow,” Ana murmured, “that’s a pretty rash and reckless thing to do with your career, but I don’t blame him under the circumstances. Family is more important.”

“Yeah, isn’t it though?” Maya shook her head. “Typical out-of-step army higher-ups made the wrong decision—again. They just lost a good man and an officer. Anyway…Travers went to a spook ops organization known as Perseus. I have a friend who works with them—Mike Houston. He contacted me about this mission. What they need is a guide, Ana, to help Travers locate his sister. You’re the obvious choice. You were born at Ollytatambu at the neck of the Rainbow Valley. No one knows that huge valley like you do. You grew up climbing the mountains and walking the hundred-mile-long Inka Trail that winds through it.” Maya smiled briefly. “So I thought you might like to take this TDY. How about it?”

Frowning, Ana studied the officer’s stony countenance once more. “What do they suspect? Druggies? A kidnapping?”

“Yeah, but no one’s called in a kidnap demand to Travers’s parents or to anyone else. Houston suspects it’s Rojas, a small-time, local drug lord trying to position himself higher up on that ladder by moving into Rainbow Valley and grabbing a rich norteamericana, like Tal Travers. She’s not rich, but he doesn’t know that—yet. Rojas is obviously not so wealthy as to have an iridium sat phone on him. They cost four thousand dollars U.S. And even regular phones aren’t common in Rainbow Valley. My hunch is he’s holding on to her until he can get to Cusco to make the call.”

“Mmm.” Ana looked around the office. “Do you have the latest list of drug runners from my old stomping grounds?”

Grinning a little, Maya handed her a short list of names. “Yeah, here they are.”

Studying them, Ana shrugged. “Could be any one of them. But they mentioned Rojas as a possibility?”

“Yes. You know any of them from your days growing up there?”

Tapping the paper, Ana murmured, “Just one—Rojas. I remember him at school. As I recall, he was a slum kid from the poor side of Lima whose parents dumped him in the Rainbow Valley to get rid of him because he was embarrassing the family by stealing stuff down there. I didn’t know him personally. I had a tutor who came to our villa every day to teach me. I only heard about him. He was a real bully, I guess.”

“Knowing what you know now,” Maya murmured, “do you want the assignment? I anticipate it will take a week or less to locate Tal Travers, one way or another.”

“Gosh, Maya…what will you do without me on the pilot roster? That’s going to leave you shorthanded as heck. Only eleven pilots to fly the missions.”

“I’ll take your flight duty and missions while you’re gone. Don’t worry about it.” How like Ana to be concerned about everyone else first. That was one more thing Maya liked about her close-knit, all-female team who worked at this hidden base fifty miles from Machu Picchu, the huge tourist attraction in Peru.

Rubbing her wrinkled, broad brow, Ana said, “Well…sure, I’d love to do this. A little change of pace. I don’t get home often enough anymore, so I’ll really enjoy getting back to my old haunts.” She felt her tiredness leave at the thought of getting a break from the brutal flying duty.

“Excellent,” Maya said. “Then it’s settled. You’re to meet this dude at Agua Caliente, at our normal meeting place—India Feliz Restaurant. Patrick, the owner and chef there, will set up the meeting on the second floor so that you two have optimum, uninterrupted time to talk and plan this mission.” She looked at her watch. “Captain Travers will be arriving in Agua Caliente in roughly three hours.”

Ana’s brows rose. “Wow! That was fast.” She grinned and stood up. Picking up her helmet, she said, “I guess I’d better pop into tourista clothes and go meet my counterpart.”

“One more thing,” Maya called.

Ana halted at the door and turned. “Yes?”

“You’re in charge of this mission. Even though he’s an ex-captain, you’re the boss. He does what you say. I understand from our resources that Travers isn’t real happy having a woman for a boss. So if he gets out of line, I want to know about it pronto. Got it?”

Tucking the helmet beneath her left arm, her Nomex gloves in her right hand, Ana murmured, “Not a problem. I’ll handle it.” She flipped the gloves to her brow in a mock salute to Maya. “I’ll take the civilian helo in on the mining side and fly into Agua Caliente. Who do you want to have fly me in and out?”

“Have Dallas do it. She’s on collateral duty today,” Maya said. “And good luck. Keep your iridium phone on you at all times. If you need backup and protection, call us. We’ll be on standby for you.”

“Roger, Captain Stevenson. Read you loud and clear.” Ana grinned widely, then turned and moved into the busy hall, toward the exit. With every step, she felt lighter and lighter. Why? It made absolutely no sense. Was it because of the unexpected assignment? It was true they worked like dogs at the base, with no downtime, no rest, no liberty. Ana had been working this arduous flight schedule for three years now.

She pushed open the door and took the metal stairs down to the first floor where another door led out into the massive cave. Then she headed for an aluminum Quonset hut at the rear, where the officers had their quarters. A quick shower, a jump into civvies and she’d be ready to go!

Smiling a little, Ana felt her heart lifting. The fact that it was Roberto’s birthday today, their wedding date, had made her feel sad. It had taken an effort to fly this morning and keep her concentration sharp and focused. Her heart ached with old grief. Yet, for some reason, just seeing Jake Travers’s unsmiling photo had lifted her spirits.

“Silly girl,” she admonished herself as she walked through the shadowy cave. Everywhere she looked, women were working, either on the Apaches or the Cobra helicopter in maintenance, or driving the electric-powered golf carts that moved ceaselessly across the smooth, black lava surface, carrying supplies. The base reminded her of a beehive. Work went on twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Their mission was crucial. And they were on a wartime footing all the time.

Opening the door to the Quonset hut, Ana moved inside and down the narrow hall. Makeshift plywood cubicles had been built, each containing a small bed, a dresser and a lamp. It made for a spare, economical existence. Entering her room, Ana hung her helmet on a hook and closed the door behind her. Suddenly, she was looking forward to this unexpected mission. It would be nice to get some time off from the brutal demands of the dangerous flight missions.

As she shimmied out of her black, Nomex uniform and prepared to take a quick shower, Ana’s thoughts turned to Jake Travers. What was he really like? Did the photo lie or tell the truth? Her heart whispered that he was a caring man with a heart. Maybe. Ana would determine that soon enough. Miraculously, though, as she hurried down the hall to take a shower, an olive-green towel wrapped around her, she was looking forward to meeting this man. After Roberto’s death, Ana had given up all hope. Love like she’d found with him could never be duplicated. She knew that. At twenty-seven, she was old enough and wise enough to know that love—deep, wonderful love—would never happen twice in a person’s life.

Fatigue lapped at Jake as he sat in the restaurant. The square table before him was covered with a white linen cloth and decorated with a spray of purple orchids with red lips, set in a vase at one corner. The chef, a casually dressed man named Patrick, had had the waiter show Jake up the elegantly carved mahogany staircase to the privacy of the second floor.

Jake looked at the watch on his dark, hairy wrist. It was 11:00 a.m. Anytime now he was to meet Lieutenant Ana Lucia Cortina. Anger riffled at the edges of Jake’s tiredness. He didn’t want any damn woman being his commanding officer. Compressing his lips into a thin line, he sipped the fragrant and delicious mocha latte that Patrick had made for him while he waited for his contact.

Out the large windows to his left, he could see the main street of Agua Caliente, which meant “hot water,” and the busy, bustling plaza beyond. The women, who were dressed in colorful skirts that hung to their ankles looked like bright tropical birds to Jake. Their hair was braided and they wore dark brown felt hats. The Peruvian men were more modern looking, although the Que’ro men wore bright red leggings and pointed, heavily beaded white caps with ear flaps. There were plenty of well-fed mongrels skulking around the plaza looking for scraps.

The plaza was rectangular, with a Catholic church of gray and black granite stonework at one end. Tourist shops that sold T-shirts, alpaca sweaters and other items, and a number of other restaurants, completed the square. Even out here, in what Jake considered the middle of nowhere, there was a pizza place! Inka pizza. With a shake of his head, he grinned a little. Amazing. Free enterprise flourished vibrantly here in Agua Caliente, from what he could see.

He heard faint footsteps on the mahogany stairs. Lifting his head, Jake set the china cup down in its saucer. He waited. It had to be Lieutenant Cortina. A hundred questions whirled through his fatigued mind. He had a black-and-white faxed photo of her, a profile shot of her in U.S. Army uniform—not really a good likeness due to the transmission difficulties of telephone lines between Peru and the U.S. Would she be a hard-ass? One of those strong, competitive women types that were in the army now? Probably.

He saw a woman, her hair black and slightly wavy as it fell around her shoulders, peek above the second floor landing. She was darkly tanned, her coloring shouting of her Peruvian heritage. Jake sucked in a breath as she turned her head and continued up the stairs, her slender hand on the rail. As she turned her oval face toward him, her cinnamon-colored eyes settled questioningly upon his. Her lips were slightly parted as if in anticipation. She looked nothing like the faxed photo of her in uniform. She was beautiful.

Without thinking, Jake rose to his feet. It was part of his officer’s training to stand when in the presence of a lady. Still, he felt no woman was up to the job that lay ahead of them. Countering his irritation over Morgan’s decision, he moved around the table and pulled out the chair next to his as she hesitated at the top of the stairs, looking at him. She was dressed in dark green canvas shorts, well-worn and badly nicked hiking boots, a red T-shirt that said Machu Picchu, and she wore a dark green knapsack across her shoulders. Her hair, slightly curled by the humidity, softly caressed her small breasts. Her cheeks were flushed and gave her wide, intelligent eyes even more emphasis, if that were possible.

Jake’s gaze moved to her mouth. What a beautiful one she had. Her lips were full, the lower lip slightly pouty and provocative looking. A mouth made for sin. A mouth made to stir any man’s fantasies. She wore absolutely no makeup, but she didn’t have to, in Jake’s opinion. He liked women au naturel, and she was all of that.

“Are you…?” he began awkwardly, holding out his hand. Somehow, he wished she wasn’t his team partner. She was too beautiful, too feminine looking, in his judgment, to qualify for such a risky venture.

Ana smiled shyly as she stood there, her hand resting tentatively on the curved mahogany banister. “Jake Travers?” She saw him scowl as his gaze assessed her. He practically stripped her naked with his eyes. It wasn’t a sexual thing, either. Ana could feel his unhappiness toward her. Like most men, he probably thought a woman couldn’t do a “man’s” job. Girding herself, she tried to coolly return his raking gaze, which was filled with judgment because she was a woman.

His name rolled off her lips like a lover’s caress. Jake felt his skin tighten. Hell, he felt his lower body grow hot. Her soft, alto voice was like a cat’s tongue licking him sinuously. He managed a curt nod. “Yeah, I’m Jake Travers. You Ana Cortina?” He sounded snarly. He felt that way.

She smiled softly and allowed his glare to glance off her. “Yes,” she answered, shrugging the knapsack from her shoulders as she moved forward. How different Jake looked in real life! Ana felt her heart skipping beats, and she felt unreasonably elated at seeing him in person even if he didn’t want her company. Jake was dressed in tan chinos, hiking boots, a black polo shirt that outlined the massiveness of his chest and emphasized his tightly muscled arms and broad shoulders. His hair was dark brown and cut military short. There was a slight curl to it, which gave him a less rigid look. His face was square, with a stubborn, pronounced chin. His lower lip was fuller than his upper one. Most of all, she liked his thick, dark brown brows, which lay straight across his forehead, just above his glacial blue eyes.

She sensed his uncertainty as she approached. He even tried to smile, and her heart warmed to him immediately and without good reason. She saw surprise in his eyes, anger, and something else she couldn’t quite decipher. “Thank you,” she whispered breathlessly as she sat down and placed the knapsack at her feet. His hand barely brushed her shoulder as he released the back of her chair. Instantly, her skin tingled. His hand was rough and callused. Ana watched as he took his chair and sat down next to her. When he scooted it forward, his knee accidentally grazed hers.

“Sorry,” he muttered gruffly. Jake quickly moved the chair back so they wouldn’t make physical contact.

“Don’t be,” Ana murmured. She turned and saw Isidro, a Que’ro waiter, coming in their direction. He had worked for Patrick for years and was more like family to India Feliz than an employee. As he approached their table, Isidro, who was unfailingly polite, but equally shy, bowed his head and murmured a heartfelt greeting to her in Quechua, but did not meet her eyes.

Ana welcomed him warmly and ordered a mocha latte. Isidro bowed and quickly went behind the bar to the left of them to make her drink. She turned, placed her elbows on the linen tablecloth and met Jake’s eyes as he assessed her with more than a little anger and some curiosity. The dark shadow of beard on his face gave him the lethal look of a warrior, Ana decided.

“Well? Do I meet with your approval?” she asked lightly.

Taken aback by her bluntness, Jake sat up straight and scowled. Ana had accurately read his mind. Shaken, he muttered, “That remains to be seen. I’m not happy about any woman being on this mission.” Inwardly, he chastised himself for sounding grumpy and defensive. He saw shadows beneath her shining, smiling eyes and wondered if she was tired. She looked it.

Ana decided not to reply to his comment directly. She felt his tension and wariness toward her. “You were staring at me, Mr. Travers. Here in Peru, it’s considered insulting to stare. Just so you know in future, because where we’re going, we’ll be talking to a lot of Quechua people in order to try and track down your sister. You might as well get steeped in our customs now, rather than later.”

Though he was smarting beneath her gentle remonstration, Jake realized he liked her low, unruffled tone more than he should. At least Lieutenant Cortina knew how to slap a person’s hand gently instead of gigging them with anger and an undiplomatic word or two. He longed to reach out and slide his fingers through her hair. The thought caught him by complete surprise. She certainly was beautiful with that thick, ebony cloak of hair about her shoulders. He had noticed she stood at around five feet ten inches tall and she had meat on her bones, wide hips and long legs. The sense of steel and strength that surrounded her was palpable. There was nothing obvious about her being a combat helicopter pilot; indeed, she looked like a tourist except for the color of her skin, which made her look decidedly Peruvian.

“I’ll do my best to fit in,” he mumbled.

Chuckling, Ana lifted her head as Isidro brought her drink on a silver tray. She thanked him effusively and he waited for their food order. She turned to Jake. “Hungry?”

He was. How did she know? Her eyes sparkled and she looked as if she knew him inside out. That bothered him. Rubbing his flat, hard stomach, he said, “Yeah, I’m like a starving bear.”

Laughing, Ana said, “Or maybe a starving condor, down here. Do you like fresh trout? It’s the specialty of the house. Patrick sends Isidro down to the Urubamba River, just a quarter of a mile from here, to fish every morning.”

Jake nodded. “Then it’s really fresh.” He liked the warmth that glimmered in Ana’s eyes. There was no hardness evident in her, just soft, inviting feminine energy. He began to relax a little, glad that she wasn’t going to come at him with brute force, like some women in the military might. But that same softness made an alarm go off inside him. She couldn’t possibly be up to the task ahead of them. She’d be a liability.

“Want to risk some local food?” Ana challenged him. She liked the way he was slowly releasing that hard outer shell. She saw a bit of hope burning in his light blue eyes. His mouth was softening at the corners, too. Good. Ana felt his nervousness and tension. Maybe it was from the five-hour flight down here. Or maybe he was overwhelmed with worry about his sister. It could be all those things, and Ana was more than willing to let his gruffness and growliness slide off her shoulders.

“Yeah. Why not?” Wincing inwardly, Jake didn’t even like himself right now. He was really being nasty toward her and she’d been the epitome of warmth and welcome. Sometimes he was a real bastard.

“Trucha, it is,” she said, and gave Isidro their order. The waiter smiled shyly and left.

Trucha, Jake knew, was Spanish for trout. Every time Ana looked at him, he felt a little more of his nagging worry dissolving. As she delicately sipped the mocha latte, he saw an expression of enjoyment cross her face.

“Mmm, you have no idea how much I look forward to a little R and R here at Patrick’s restaurant. And if his bed and breakfast is full, I stay at Gringo Bill’s Hostel just across the plaza. Margarieta Kaiser is the owner and opens her arms to us. She knows how to take care of a war-weary soul.”

“From what I understand, you’re on a wartime footing at the base you fly out of all the time.”

Ana nodded. She set the cup down and curved her slender fingers around it. “Yes, we are.” She lifted her head and held his frank gaze. “And doing this is a very nice departure from my daily duties.” Sobering, she added quietly, “I’m very sorry to hear about your sister, Mr. Travers….”

“Call me Jake, will you?” He wanted to keep her at arm’s length, but somehow, it wasn’t working. A less formal atmosphere might make up for his growly attitude, he hoped.

She brightened. “Okay…you can call me Ana. All right?”

“No problem.” And it wouldn’t be at all for Jake. She was going to do away with military formality and that was just fine with him. He was mesmerized by the graceful movements of her hands. She was like a ballet dancer, not a combat pilot. He wrestled with the two disparate images and simply could not fit them together. Picturing her in the front seat of a deadly Boeing Apache was hard to do. Still, Jake could see her warrior side in her eyes. They were alert and missed nothing. She might be able to fight in the sky, but on the ground? No, he didn’t think she was cut out for this mission at all.

“So, tell me about your sister, Jake. Do you have a photo of her?”

He reached into his back pocket and drew out his wallet. “Yeah, right here.” He pulled it out and laid it on the table for her to look at.

“Oh, she’s very pretty,” Ana murmured as she studied the photo. Her eyes crinkled and she looked over at him. She saw grief burning in his eyes instead of the glowering anger she’d seen there before. “You’re a very handsome brother and sister.”

Heat trailed up his neck. Jake was blushing. Avoiding her teasing look, he paid attention to his latte and took a huge, scalding gulp. Ana Lucia Cortina was rattling him in ways he’d never anticipated. She was beautiful. Drop-dead gorgeous, with long, fine legs, a husky, warming laugh that went through him like fine whiskey, loosening him up, relaxing his knotted gut and making his heart pound and jump in his chest whenever she shared that intimate look with him. All of that told him she would be excess baggage on this mission. A pretty bauble, nothing more—and a definite liability.

“Tal’s the beauty. I’m more the frog in the pond compared to her,” Jake managed to reply uncomfortably.

Ana grinned. “You’re very modest. How wonderful. In a norteamericano that is a plus.” She laughed gently so as not to offend him. His cheeks had turned a dusky red color and Ana realized he was blushing. That made her like him even more, and assured her her heart was right: she’d intuited a special sensitivity in Jake and she hadn’t been wrong. Not many military men she knew blushed. And it was comforting to her that Jake had that capacity. Maybe he wasn’t going to be hard to work with after all—even if she was his boss.