Читать книгу Risky Engagement - Merline Lovelace - Страница 7

Sweat trickled down his temple, into his eye. Impatiently, Wolf blinked it away. He and his team had kept the hacienda perched atop a sun-baked cliff under surveillance for two days and two long nights now. From all indications, the bastard who owned it would make his move soon. And when he did, Wolf would take him down.

In the meantime, he was close to broiling under the afternoon sun. Summers in this corner of Mexico’s Los Cabos Peninsula could be brutal. October wasn’t much better. It didn’t help that the azure sea shimmered in the distance, making a mockery of the sweat plastering his camouflage shirt to his back and—

“El Lobo!”

The low exclamation brought his gaze whipping to the man stretched out a few feet away on the dry, baked earth. He was one of Mexico’s elite, handpicked by Wolf’s counterpart for this op. Like Wolf, he was covered from head to toe in desert fatigues and dripping in sweat.

“Someone comes,” he whispered urgently. “A woman. Not from here, I think.”

He edged to one side so Wolf could take his place at the high-powered scope. Tripod mounted and over a foot long when fully extended, the scope packed almost enough power to pick out Neil Armstrong’s footprints on the moon. More than enough to display in startlingly precise detail, the female trudging along the unpaved road leading to the hacienda they were keeping under surveillance.

His jaw locked, Wolf catalogued sweat-streaked, honey-brown hair showing beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat. Oversize designer sunglasses hid the upper half her face, but the lower half showed a mouth set in tight lines. A rumpled linen sundress in a pale green color, bared shoulders showing the first flush of sunburn.

“That’s it,” Wolf growled, when she paused at the gate cut into the high walls surrounding the hacienda’s vast acreage and tipped her sun glasses to peer at the phone box beside the gate. “Com’on, chica. Take ‘em off and give me a good target.”

He centered the crosshairs on her face. Slowly, so slowly, she slid the glasses down an inch. Two.

With a grunt of satisfaction, Wolf nailed her.