Читать книгу Captive Of Fate - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 5

It was noon when they finally landed at the base camp. Alanna swallowed hard, airsick from the jolting ride in the helicopter. Her stomach churned threateningly as she extricated herself from the tangle of boxes with help from a soldier. Without a word or much less a glance, Matt Breckenridge slid out of the chopper and was promptly met by his vanguard of aides, a mixture of Marine and Costa Rican police personnel. Alanna jumped to the ground behind him, her feet sinking into ankle-deep mud immediately. She groaned, watching as the red ooze claimed her expensive leather shoes. Rain slashed unrelentingly at her face, and she bowed her head, looking for the closest shelter.

The base camp consisted of ten or twelve sadly thatched huts; some made out of spare wood and rough-cut lumber, others out of grass and twigs and adobelike bricks. A feeling of despair began to shadow her as she continued to stand there. She hated the helpless feeling that came when a situation was controlled by someone other than herself. She had always been in control of her life…at least until she met Paul. Now, the bitterness she’d felt toward him welled up in her once more when she thought of the Colonel. He wanted to run her life, and she would never stand still for that again. Well, she would just have to take charge and go ask some questions. She muttered a curse at Colonel Breckenridge, blaming him for the discomfort brought on by this assignment. He wouldn’t help a sick child, she thought, clumping slowly through the mud to a wooden structure that looked more substantial than the rest.

Alanna walked in, her hair hanging lifelessly about her pale oval face. Her raincoat was no longer shedding water, but soaking it up instead, and she felt damp and miserable. The flurry of Spanish was thick and fast as several enlisted men manned radios and a number of officers hovered above them. A contingent of six men left, and a few more straggled in, looking just as wet and exhausted as she felt. Finally, Alanna spied the commanding officer and made her way across the dirty floor to him.

After half an hour of haggling, showing him her papers and the necessary documents, Alanna made some progress. She managed to get hold of a soldier to show her where the supplies were being kept. The officer bent and kissed her hand twice, smiling provocatively, his brown, almond-shaped eyes alight with invitation. Alanna remembered the Colonel’s warning and smiled politely in return, trying to maintain her dignity regardless of her muddied feet and ankles.

Following the soldier back out into the rain, she noticed more men standing around in huddled groups. There were two helicopters now, and they were both shut down. Looking to the north, she noted low-hanging white clouds that probably signaled fog stealing in for the afternoon. That meant a delay, she supposed, as they slogged through the mire to a series of small shacks surrounded by a barbed wire fence. She thanked him in Spanish as he unlocked and opened the door.

The shack was damp-smelling, the odor of medicine strong in the stale air. It was nearly dark, and Alanna could barely make out the labels which announced the contents of each crate. Taking out a pad and pencil from her purse, she began to write down systematically the necessary information. She lost track of time, engrossed in her activity. Hearing the heavy thud of booted feet, she snapped her head upward.

“You again,” the Colonel growled, coming to a halt. He was dressed in a rubber poncho, looking amazingly dry despite the rain. For a moment, Alanna found herself hating him for his apparent comfort. His gaze roved from her feet up to her head, an unwilling smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, I’ll say this for you, you don’t quit regardless of difficulties.”

Her mouth turned down. “I suppose that’s a high compliment coming from you.”

“Yes, it is. You have spunk. I admire that in a woman.”

“Save your compliments for someone who will appreciate them, Colonel.”

Matt walked slowly toward her, pushing the cap back on his head. “I suppose a woman with your good looks is used to getting compliments all the time.”

She gritted her teeth and returned to her work, trying to ignore him. But, God, he was impossible to ignore! Just being around him made her feel edgy. There was something dangerously, vitally male about him. It was in his walk, his easy banter, the way he looked at her…. Alanna felt herself melting inwardly every time their eyes met. The senator had warned her about the Marine’s ability to charm, and she redoubled her efforts to block him out.

He rested his arm against one of the crates above where she was working. “Well, is it true? You happily married to a man that appreciates your good looks and intelligence?”

Alanna pressed her lips together, aware of the pain in her heart. “That’s none of your business,” she hissed.

“I see. Sounds like either a divorce or you got jilted. Which was it?”

She rose from her crouched position after copying the numbers off the last crate. “Don’t you have anything better to do than interrogate me? I thought you were so worried about getting supplies up to San Dolega.”

He took off his hat and scratched his head. “I was until the fog socked us in. Not much we can do at the moment.” His voice lost its mocking quality as he frowned, staring into the darkness above her. “We’re reduced to three operating jeeps, and even those can’t get through. The road is temporarily closed by a large avalanche of mud that occurred an hour ago. The only thing left is for the men to act like pack horses and carry these crates the last five miles on their backs.” He sighed, focusing on her. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Miss McIntire. I needed a lift—this day started out rotten, and it’s getting worse by the moment. I’m glad I stumbled onto you.”

She shrugged off his banter. “What do you mean an avalanche? Aren’t the people getting help now?”

“The rains are heavy this time of year, and the earthquake caused a loosening of the topsoil on the mountainsides. The result is an avalanche. The fog is due to cold air mixing with the higher coastal temperatures. This weather system is unusual, so we’re more or less outflanked at the moment. And, to answer your question, no.”

“I’m sure, with your brilliant tactical mind, you’ll come up with something to save the day.”

Matt shook his head, biting his lower lip. “Not always.”

“Is this entire rescue mission run by the military?”

“Why? Do you think a civilian could come up with a better mousetrap under the present conditions?”

“Probably,” she stated boldly. “You’re so typical. If you can’t blow it up, destroy it, or change it, you don’t know how to deal with a problem.”

He stared at her hard, some of the tenseness returning to his face. “I happen to have a degree in engineering, and I’m used to building things, Miss McIntire, not destroying them. You’ve sure got a hate for the military, don’t you? But then, you’re Thornton’s assistant. Did he brainwash you, or did you come prepackaged to his office that way?”

Something snapped inside her, and she struck out at him. He caught her wrist easily, as if he were thwarting a child’s paltry attempt at retaliation. “Let me go!”

Matt’s eyes twinkled with irony. “My little dove is a hawk in disguise. You talk a good line of pacifism, but at the first provocation, you strike out like a cobra. Who’s more aggressive here, lady?” And he suddenly let her go, grinning at her undisguised anger. “How did your boyfriend put up with that temper of yours?”

Alanna backed away from him, her eyes large and her breath harsh. She rubbed her wrist tenderly, feeling the pain from his grip. “We never argued!” she admitted.

“No? Maybe you should have. A volatile argument every now and then is good for the soul. Now, don’t you feel better?”

“No, but maybe I would if I could have hit you. You’re such an—an arrogant bastard!”

He continued to smile, enjoying the moment. “And you’re a vixen. But a very interesting, provocative one.” He picked up the clipboard he had set on a crate. “I’m rather glad you came up. It certainly makes my life interesting.”

“Do you always win, Colonel? I mean, does it make you feel good to know you’re more powerful or stronger than someone else?”

“I don’t always win. But I try my best, and that’s all anyone can expect. And I don’t normally go around exerting physical force on a woman unless she asks for it.” His brows drew together in a downward arc as he watched her. “You don’t look Irish, but you certainly have the Gaelic temper.”

“My mother was from Hungary,” she stated flatly. “They say we Hungarians are pretty volatile, too.”

“That’s okay. I enjoy a hot-blooded woman. Be seeing you around, Miss McIntire.”

She stood there seething for five minutes before her flaring temper subsided back into glowing embers. She felt like a mouse caught between his paws. What was wrong? She had dealt with all kinds of men in her career and held a very prestigious job in political circles. How could a mere officer in the Marine Corps bring her so quickly to defeat? Where had her education failed her? She had always managed to deal with Paul and his intellectualism. But this man—he seemed to know everything about her! That was infuriating in itself, and it strengthened her resolve to prove that he was involved in the smuggling ring linked to Nicaragua.

* * *

Her feet were numb with cold as she snapped the padlock back on the door of the shed. The blanket of darkness had fallen quickly, and she turned, blinking as the rain stung her face. Had she ever been so utterly disconsolate? A thought crossed her mind in answer: yes, living with Paul the last year of their torturous four-year relationship. Bowing her head, she slogged back through the mud toward the headquarters cum communications center.

Alanna shook the water off her raincoat after stepping inside. Her throat constricted as she looked up to see Colonel Breckenridge, studying her from where he was standing. He tilted his chin, appraising her thoroughly. The radioman at the desk looked up, calling his name, and he turned away from Alanna’s glare.

She waited until, he was done and then walked over to him, gripping her briefcase tightly in her hand. “I hate to bother you, Colonel, but I need a place to get cleaned up and sleep tonight. “Where are the facilities?”

“I’m sorry. Didn’t your friend the commissioner tell you? There are none.” He shook his head, amusement evident in his shadowy gray eyes. “I told you to stay in the capital. Up here it’s blankets, sleeping bags, or just huddling up into a corner on the dirt floor of a thatched hut. Take your pick.”

She gave him a stricken look. “No water? No bathing facilities?”

“No. I tried to tell you before, this is out in the middle of nowhere. We don’t cater to civilians or anyone unessential to the rescue efforts. What little water we have is being chlorinated for use by the injured we’re receiving off the mountain. Press people and other such personnel have to fend for themselves. There’s a barrel of fresh rainwater right outside the door. You might get your hands and face washed there….”

Alanna felt anger coiling inside her. “I’ll bet you just love these conditions.”

Matt shrugged, walking back to a makeshift desk composed of wood crates that had official-looking papers strewn around on the top of it. “I’ve had my share of sleeping in jungles,” he agreed amiably, “but I prefer a bed when I can get one.”

She stood helplessly in front of him. “When is the next flight back to San Jose then?”

“There isn’t any. I told you earlier that we’re socked in with unseasonable fog conditions. I can’t lift a chopper to get to the village, much less to the capital. Everything is at a damn standstill at this moment.”

She pursed her lips, the anger draining from her. She was so incredibly tired she felt dizzy. Her feet ached, and she could feel the grit of the soil between her foot and the sole of her ruined shoes. Six years at a university did not prepare one for this, and she felt bitterness toward Senator Thornton. He should have planned this expedition with less haste.

“Look,” he said, more gently, “there’s a side room over there where I sleep. It’s a wood floor, and it will keep most of the insects from biting you. I’ll give you half my blankets, and you can use my sleeping bag as a mattress. There’s a basin of water in there and a towel.”

It sounded heavenly, and Alanna raised her head, meeting his gaze. She felt an inexplicable warmth radiating from him, and she responded to his friendly overture. “You’re serious?”

Matt smiled tiredly. “I told you before, I don’t say or do anything I don’t mean.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, suddenly distrustful, remembering the senator’s words of warning.

“Do you think the military is without a heart, Miss McIntire? That I can’t take pity on people that are less well off than I am? You look bushed, and I have a weak spot in my heart for women anyway. So, if you want to share my room for tonight, you’re welcome. Simple as that.”

She gave him a measuring stare. There was nothing simple about this man, her instincts told her. She tried to probe beyond the honesty expressed in his face and voice. “What do you mean ‘share’ your bedroom?”

He shrugged lazily, picking up several papers and perusing them. “What do you want it to mean?” he retorted coolly.

“Damn you!” she hissed under her breath, her eyes blazing with the green fire of anger. “I have no intention of sleeping with you!”

“You could do a lot worse. Besides, with the temperature dropping like it is, it’s going to get awfully cold before morning. Two bodies make more heat than one. It’s simple logic.”

“You’re out of your mind, Colonel! I wouldn’t sleep with you if hell froze over!”

He seemed to enjoy her explosive tirade, smiling as she stood there trembling visibly with fury. “Too bad,” he murmured, putting the papers back down. “But since you can’t stand the military and hate the sight of me, I don’t think we’ll have too much trouble sharing the same floor, Miss McIntire. I like to think that the women I sleep with look forward to the experience, and I don’t feel like getting my throat slit by you. Rest assured, we’ll have a line of demarcation between us tonight. Fair enough?”

Alanna drew in a deep breath, still distrusting that glint in his gray eyes. “Marines have a reputation as far as women go,” she accused.

“That we enjoy them? I can’t deny one word of it. Go get cleaned up, and quit looking like I’m going to pounce on you or something.”

She felt human again after she got cleaned up with the aid of a small bar of soap and Colonel Breckenridge’s olive green washcloth and towel. Taking her small suitcase, she pulled out a set of well-worn jeans and her only pair of socks and canvas shoes. The room was quiet except for the constant chatter of the radio transmissions drifting through the thin wooden door. She turned her back away from it, slipping off the damp blouse and bra, drawing a thin sweater over her head. It would be just like him to come in unannounced, she thought. God, how he provoked her! She hated his cool logic and his constant sniping at the political people she worked for.

His “bed” was a sad-looking affair. Alanna left him one green blanket and took the other one and the sleeping bag. She placed them strategically in the corner opposite his huge pack and the remaining rumpled blanket. Taking a mirror out of her purse, she tried to decide what to do with her drying hair.

She noticed dark circles beginning to appear beneath her large green eyes and touched one hesitantly. She was exhausted, although fighting with the Colonel seemed to increase her adrenaline, and the cold water had washed away some of her tiredness. Trying to make the best of the situation, she sat cross-legged on the floor and patiently parted her long hair, then wove the strands into two thick braids, tying the ends off with rubber bands she carried in her purse. Her stomach growled, and she looked up toward the door, frowning. Where could she get something to eat? Groaning, she got up, realizing she would have to talk to Colonel Breckenridge, again. Trying to put a choke chain on her temper, she slipped out the door and walked over to the desk where he sat.

For an instant, Alanna felt her heart tighten with compassion for him. He was resting his head in one hand, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he studied a map in front of him. Gone was the mask that he seemed to hide beneath. Instead, the lines of weariness were accented at the corners of his narrowed eyes and around his mouth. He sat up, inhaling deeply as she quietly approached him. His eyes flared briefly with an unknown emotion as he took in her form.

“I didn’t know you could work miracles,” he murmured, putting the compass on the map.

“What do you mean?” She sounded defensive again. Damn. She was beginning to understand that if she lost her temper with him, it only made communicating more difficult. Alanna tried to compose herself and forced a smile she did not feel.

“You look like the girl back home,” he commented, motioning toward her braids. “A farm girl from Iowa or some small Midwest town. None of that better-than-thou Washington stamp on you any longer.”

“You mean less sophisticated?” she asked, restless beneath his hungry look.

“No, you still have class. That would show through no matter what you did or did not wear.”

Alanna blushed scarlet, and she automatically touched her cheek, put off balance by his unexpected, brusque compliments. “Colonel—”

“You’re very pretty when you blush, Alanna. Feel better now that you’ve got on some dry clothes?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She cleared her throat, nervously shifting her feet. “I’m afraid to even ask if there’s food available up here. Is there?”

“If you’re a refugee from the village or part of the relief effort, yes. There’s a small chow hall in operation at the end hut on the northern perimeter of the base.”

“But I’m not a refugee, am I?” she growled back, understanding his faultless logic.

“In a sense you are. Thrown completely out of your element into a set of circumstances that you’re unprepared for.”

“I’m not some poor, lost waif! If you’ll just tell me where I can buy some food…”

“Right now, with supplies running low, there isn’t any amount of money that will buy food.”

She raised her eyes skyward in reaction. “What do I have to do to get some food!” she asked tightly. “Would it go better if I begged?”

Matt shook his head. “You wouldn’t make a very convincing beggar, lady.” He slowly rose, as if stiff. He flexed his right shoulder in a rotating motion, frowning.

“Did you hurt yourself?” she blurted out, before she could stop her concern from expressing itself.

“Hmm? No. Old wound. It gets cranky when the weather is damp and cold.” He studied her. “It’s nice of you to care, though. That’s a new twist for a political dove from D.C.”

Alanna seethed inwardly, gritting her teeth. “God, you’re so distrustful of my every action!”

Matt laughed, picking up his poncho and shrugging into it. “I have a hard time trusting any politician. Were you born a liberal, I wonder?”

“Don’t make fun of what I believe in, Colonel. I won’t change my views or ideas for food or shelter. Just because you’re a born soldier, that doesn’t give you the right to be rude to me.”

“Maybe you’re right. I owe you an apology. Why don’t you go settle down, and I’ll rummage around the chow hall and get something to eat for both of us. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Anyway, we need to get some food into you so you won’t look so damn skinny.”

Alanna grudgingly admitted he was right on one point: she was skinny. It was a result of the long hours she put in at the senator’s office. Trudging back to the small, barren room, she pulled the blanket over her shoulders and lay down on the inviting sleeping bag. Rolling the other blanket into a makeshift pillow, she closed her eyes for just a moment. Her thoughts spiraled around Matt Breckenridge. Despite their arguments, she found herself inexorably drawn to him. He was nothing like Paul. Just the opposite in fact. Paul was so distant, so detached that she doubted he knew what it was to lose his temper. And she had never lost hers in those years either. Now, with this Marine officer, it was like the Fourth of July every time they got within ten feet of one another. Paul had taught her to control her emotions. But Matt Breckenridge actually seemed to enjoy her outbursts. She sighed loudly, utterly confused and drained by the day’s events. She didn’t mean to, but she plunged into a deep, healing sleep almost immediately.