Chapter 17

Coming back to consciousness was almost always as painful as getting KO’d in the first place, because it happened with a killer headache, churning nausea, and, in Gabe’s case, a foot that ached like a son of a bitch. Even so, his first thought before he opened his eyes was of Audrey. Was she safe? Was she still hiding somewhere in the jungle, or had she been abducted by the men who jumped him?

Goddamn, they shouldn’t have gotten the drop on him like that. He’d been too focused on the threat of Cocodrilo, too afraid for Audrey’s safety, that he didn’t see them until it was too late. And they weren’t stupid like the guerrillas—the moment they noticed his bad foot, they attacked the weakness, taking his legs out from under him. Once he hit the ground, he knew it was game over. He still fought with every skill he possessed—it wasn’t in him to do anything else—but it’d been with the certain knowledge that it was a hopeless fight. He was actually surprised he still drew breath, albeit painfully.

No matter. He had to get up, move out, and find Audrey.

Gabe pried open his eyes—and there she was, his lovely Audrey, kneeling beside him, haloed in sunshine. Freshly washed, her wet hair hung in a loose braid over one shoulder, and a filmy white dress hugged her slim body. Almost afraid she was a hallucination, he reached out a dirty hand and touched her cheek.

Warm.

Soft.

Real.

The crisp scent of citrus and clean woman drifted over to him as her hand covered his, and damn if his eyes didn’t burn.

“You’re okay.” His voice sounded like a bullfrog’s croak.

“So are you,” she said softly, lacing together their fingers. “A little beat up, but the doctor said you’ll be fine.”

Doctor?

With his fear for her safety assuaged, their surroundings started to sink in. A hotel? Had to be. He lay on a plush, very large bed with translucent bronze drapes billowing from the canopy. A mural covered one whole wall of the wide-open room, giving the illusion you were staring out over a city in Greece. Directly across the room was a wall of windows that opened to a balcony and offered a breathtaking view of the sea, but it sure wasn’t the Mediterranean. More like the Caribbean since he was fairly certain they were still in Colombia, despite the room’s decor. But how did they end up on the coast when they’d been in the heart of the jungle? And how long had he been out? And…

“What doctor?” He sat up, ignoring Audrey when she started making noises about him lying still. “Where are we? What happened?”

“Gabe, please, take it easy.”

Not a chance. The more he saw of this room, the less he liked the situation. This was no hotel but someone’s private home. An extremely wealthy someone’s private home. He rubbed his hands over his face and bumped a butterfly bandage stuck to his forehead. He ripped it off, tossed it aside.

“What the hell’s going on?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll explain everything, but…” She bit her lower lip and motioned a pressing gesture, urging him to calm down. “Don’t freak out.”

Oh yeah, he really wasn’t going to like this. He shoved aside the blankets covering him only to discover he was naked underneath, except for a crisp white ace bandage wrapped around his bad foot. Well, fuck it. He’d planned for Audrey to see him naked sooner or later after this mess was over, when involvement with her wouldn’t be considered unprofessional. Might as well be sooner, though this wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined it going down. There was supposed to be kissing involved. Some licking. And groping. Lots of groping on both their parts.

And now would be a good time to put a kibosh on that kind of thinking, or he’d only add insult to injury with a raging boner.

Audrey’s eyes widened, but she didn’t look away as he half expected. He stood and put weight on his bad foot. Pain blazed up his calf, but the foot held, and he refused the crutches Audrey scrambled to retrieve.

“Where are my clothes?”

She sighed and returned the crutches to their spot in the corner of the room. “After Dr. Manello cut them off, I figured they were unsalvageable. But there are jeans and a T-shirt in the dresser for you.”

Gabe stalked over to the bronze-finished wood dresser.

Those cargo pants had been his favorite pair, well-traveled and comfortably worn, and some doctor… Cut. Them. Off.

The fucker.

Scowling, fuming, he found clothes in the top drawer and yanked on stiff, brand-new jeans in too dark a wash for his taste, forgoing both underwear and the soft red T-shirt.

“Uh, Gabe, maybe you should shower before?—”

He sent a snarling, lethal glare over his shoulder that had quelled many a budding SEAL. But not Audrey. Her chin just hitched up in challenge.

“Well, sorry, but you look and smell like a caveman.” Planting a fist on one jutted hip, she glared right back at him. “But that doesn’t mean you get to act like one, too.”

“Don’t care. Now explain.” He faced Audrey, crossed his arms over his bare chest, and waited. She mimicked his pose, except she tapped her foot, and sunlight glinted off the jewels decorating her sandals.

She met him stare-to-stare. “Not until you stop acting like an ass.”

For some reason, instead of getting pissed at her defiance, Gabe found himself fighting back a smile. The woman had a backbone of pure steel. He really did love that about her.

Whoa.

He backpedaled his thoughts, erasing that particular L word and replacing it with another. Like. Lust. He hadn’t meant to think L-O-V-E.

“I thought you said I was acting like a caveman,” he said.

“You are. A caveman’s ass.”

He snorted and rubbed his palm over his jaw to hide the laugh.

Shit, he did look like a caveman.

“All right.” Holding up his hands in supplication, he moved toward her and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Some victories just weren’t worth the battle. “You’re right. I was out of line.”

She nodded once. “Always knew you were a smart man.”

Gabe sighed. Fifty years down the road, he’ll probably still be hearing about this argument. And for some reason, that thought didn’t scare the holy hell out of him. In fact, he sort of looked forward to it. What kind of sick bastard was he?

And, shit. He was thinking about a future again.

With Audrey.

Jesus, he had to stop that. He barely knew this woman… except that she was as stubborn as he was, had a heart so big it almost burst from her chest, and possessed the courage of a lioness. She was loyal, infuriating, and beautiful in a way that went beyond her attractive features—a complete package of heart and spirit. And the only woman he’d ever met who could hold her own against a hard-headed ex-SEAL like him.

Those thoughts didn’t help to rid his mind of the image of fifty years down the line, sitting on a porch with this woman, bickering about everything and loving every second of it. He could see it so clearly, and it terrified him. Domestic bliss wasn’t the life he wanted. He was built for battle and was going to die in battle, not grow old and frail with this woman—or any woman—by his side, rocking in a creaky chair, reminiscing.

Her eyebrows furrowed with concern as she watched him. “Gabe? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” He gave his head a hard shake. He had to focus on the present, on the very real danger they were in, not on some fantasy of a peaceful, domestic life.

“I was out of line,” he admitted again, figuring a second time couldn’t hurt. “But, Aud, I do need you to tell me what happened, how we ended up here, and where here is.”

After a second, her posture relaxed, and she rolled her lower lip through her teeth. “Promise not to freak out?”

“I’ll do my best.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth in protest. “That’s all I can promise. I told you I don’t break promises, so I never make ones I’m not sure I can keep.”

But he had made one, hadn’t he? Back in that jungle hut, after she’d kissed him senseless, he had promised to protect her. Yet he wasn’t careful enough, and now, despite their plush accommodations, she could be in more danger than ever. He had the sickening feeling he already knew where they were and who their generous host was, and ground his back teeth at the thought.

Striving for patience, he waited silently as she hesitated again. God, she was killing him.

“Audrey, talk to me.”

“We’re at Mena’s estate in Cartagena,” she blurted.

Gabe dropped his head forward and let out a long breath. Luis Mena, public enemy number one. Holy fuck. “How?”

“Those were his men that attacked the camp. But it’s not whatyou think,” Audrey rushed on. She knelt in front of him, bending to put her face in his line of sight. “Gabe, really. I talked to him over lunch, and this isn’t a bad thing.”

Luis Mena, not a bad thing. That was like saying Hitler was misunderstood. And, whoa, she talked to him over lunch? She had to be out of her fucking mind. “Do you have any idea what that man’s done? What he’s capable of doing?”

“Yes, I know. I’ve heard the horror stories, same as everyone else in the Western Hemisphere. But he isn’t our enemy.”

He gave a humorless laugh. “He’s everybody’s enemy.”

She pursed her lips. “Okay, I can’t argue that. But you know that old saying about the enemy of my enemy. Will you just hear me out?”

“No.” He abruptly stood.

Audrey lost her balance and fell backward on her butt. “Gabe!”

“Get up. We’re leaving. Now.” He scanned their lavish prison for any potential escape routes. His mind was already whirring with strategies and contingencies, the way it always did when a mission went sideways.

But this time, he wasn’t just trying to save himself.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she retorted, crossing her arms defiantly as she remained seated on the floor like a petulant child.

“Like hell you’re not.” Fear for her safety took him in a chokehold—fear that was quickly transforming into a red-hot rage that scalded everything in him until there were nothing but ashes where his composure once stood. “Get up.”

“And here we are, right back where we started with you acting like a caveman’s ass.” Audrey stayed put, her stubborn chin jutting out in defiance. “Why can’t you ever listen? Just for once?”

“Because every time I listen to you, we end up in deeper shit.” He pretended not to notice her wince, even though it cut through him like a knife. He was acting like an ass again, but he didn’t care. At this point, saving Audrey’s life was a priority; everything else could be pushed aside. “So, no, I’m not listening this time. Get up, Audrey.”

She remained unmoved, her green eyes blazing with indignation and something that looked damned close to hurt. “No. Mena can help us find Bryson. Or did you forget about my brother?”

Inwardly, he cringed because, yeah, her brother’s abduction had taken the far backseat on his list of concerns. Outwardly, he didn’t move a muscle, except for the frustrated tick in his jaw that he couldn’t control.

“We don’t have time for this,” he gritted out. He moved swiftly, picking her up off the floor and hauling her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Audrey squawked in surprise, kicking and pounding against his back as he strode towards the door.

“You put me down this instant, Gabriel Bristow! I swear I’ll?—”

“Quiet,” he snapped, ignoring the sharp jab of her elbow to his lower back. “Be sensible for once.”

“You arrogant?—”

The door swung open before he reached it.

In one quick move, Gabe had Audrey off his shoulder and tucked safely behind him as he faced one of the most hated men in the world.

Luis Mena grinned at them, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. Intel put his age close to seventy, but nobody knew for sure. Steel gray hair and a salt-and-pepper mustache showed his age, but he still had the toned body of a much younger man. Topping out at several inches under six feet, he was a thin man with stylish glasses and a surprisingly warm smile. He looked like someone’s grandfather—and, in fact, he had several grandchildren and one infant great-grandchild—but that appearance belied his true persona. That of a stone-cold killer.

“We’re leaving,” Gabe said, leaving no room in his tone for argument.

Mena stepped aside and motioned to the open door. “You are more than welcome to go.” His voice was pleasant, friendly even, and barely accented. “But I would very much appreciate it if you and your lovely wife joined me for supper first.”

Audrey shifted uncomfortably behind him at the word “wife.” Had Mena just assumed that they were married, or had she told him that?

Interesting.

But not important right now.

“I don’t think so.”

“Pity.” Mena waited until they were almost out the door before adding, “Because I know where to find Bryson Van Amee.” He smiled when Audrey pulled Gabe to a stop. “That is, if you’re interested, Commander Bristow.”

Gabe kept his face impassive, but something—a flicker in his eyes, a tightening in his shoulders—gave away his surprise because Mena laughed.

“Yes, I know all about you, Lieutenant Commander Gabriel Bristow, former commanding officer of the American Navy SEAL Team Ten, bravo platoon, forced into retirement due to an injury sustained on your way to a training operation last year in Virginia.” His smile took on an edge. “Training, I was told, that was meant to help you and your team take down my business.”

How did Mena know all of that? Gabe managed to show no reaction, but—shit. The objective of that training mission had been highly classified information. Had someone tipped him off? Was there a traitor on his former team? The idea of it left a sour taste in Gabe’s mouth. The men on that team were his brothers, his family. To think one of them could have betrayed him...

Audrey looked up at him, worry in her eyes. He took her hand and gave it a light squeeze, still making sure to keep his body in front of hers.

Which, naturally, drew Mena’s attention right to her.

“I was quite surprised to find out you have a wife,” Mena said. “None of the information I have on you—which really isn’t much, I’m ashamed to say—mentioned a spouse.”

“It’s recent,” Audrey blurted.

Jesus Christ, woman. Give him more ammo against us, why don’t you?Gabe tightened his grip on her hand, hoping she got the hint to stay quiet.

Mena laughed again, his eyes gleaming in amusement. “Ah, a new bride. How delightful. She’s beautiful.” He studied Audrey with unsettling interest. “Quite lovely. You’ve done well for yourself, Commander Bristow.”

This counted as a massive clusterfuck if he’d ever seen one. How they’d ended up married, he had no idea, but it put her in even more danger than she realized. Married meant he cared for her—and, dammit, he did—which meant Mena could use her against him. If he’d known Mena thought they were husband and wife from the get-go, he would have treated her the way his father treated his mother, coldly and with disinterested tolerance. If he didn’t care, she was not worth Mena’s time. She’d be safe.

But the fact he still held her hand and used his body to protect hers nixed that plan. Any fool could see how much he cared.

And right now, he was the biggest fool of them all.

He had to get them out of there.

Now.

Mena’s smile remained firmly in place. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order, then. We’ll drink the finest bottle of Bordeaux in my collection with dinner to celebrate your recent nuptials.”

“We’re not staying.” The thought of sitting down to a civil dinner with this man soured Gabe’s stomach.

Audrey tugged his hand. “Yes, we are.”

“No.” He tried to force patience into his tone and failed miserably. “We’re not.”

“Gabe! He wants to help us find Bryson. How can you refuse that?”

Because nothing Mena did came without a high cost. He wasn’t offering to help out of the goodness of his heart—he didn’t have one—and his motives were most likely pure as sin. “We’ll discuss this later. My team?—”

“Is no closer to finding him, I assure you,” Mena said easily. “I’ve kept a close watch on all of you since you arrived in my country. As a precaution, of course. I had no idea you were investigating Bryson’s disappearance until Se?or Miller told me this morning when he brought you in.”

“Is that why you had us followed?” Audrey asked, and no way could anyone miss the hope in her voice. “Just as a precaution.”

“And my men ended up dead.” His Cheshire Cat grin didn’t waver. “However, let’s not get into all that now. I think this conversation will be more palatable over good food with good wine, don’t you agree?”

“Gabe, please,” Audrey whispered behind him. “I need to find Bryson. Please.”

Her pleading all but shattered his heart. He couldn’t deny her, even though every instinct screamed to get her far, far away from Mena’s lengthy reach. A deserted island might do the trick. Yeah, and then what? Stay there for the rest of their natural lives?

No, he wasn’t a runner. He was a fighter, and if he wanted to keep Audrey safe, he had to face this threat head-on.

Alone.

Unarmed.

With a bum foot.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I can see you are... concerned about the situation,” Mena said. “But I assure you, during this meal, no harm will come to either one of you.”

Gabe snorted at the absurdity of it. “That’s very generous of you.”

“Consider it a peace offering,” he said, spreading his hands out in a placating gesture. “You see, Commander Bristow, I am a businessman. And right now, business is running smoothly. However, if Bryson’s kidnapping does not resolve itself as it should—well, it could disrupt some of my ventures. Not a situation I care for.”

“Please,” Audrey whispered in his ear, her voice quivering with desperation. “We have no other leads.”

Gabe could feel the tension radiating from her; the stress of not knowing her brother’s fate was taking a toll. He knew he had no choice, as much as he hated to admit it.

Finally, jaw clenched, he nodded once. “All right. A meal.”

Behind him, Audrey exhaled softly in relief, her hand squeezing his tighter.

“But only a meal.” He stared into Mena’s calculating eyes. “And then we’re leaving.”

“Excellent,” Mena said. “Dinner will be served on the veranda tonight at six-thirty. I’ll have appropriate attire sent up for you both. Until then, you are my esteemed guests, and I give my word that you will be treated with the utmost respect and hospitality.”

The words rang hollow in Gabe’s ears. The man was a snake, a predator, and like every predator, he was merely playing with his prey before devouring it.

He eyed Gabe, prince to pauper, and his smile melted into a faint sneer of disdain.

Gabe thought, fuck you. If the mission to take Mena down hadn’t been scrubbed, the man wouldn’t be so goddamn smug right now.

“You’ll, of course, want to bathe before dinner,” Mena said pointedly. “So I’ll take my leave.”

The door shut, and there was the unmistakable snick of a lock. Just a mind game since the balcony was wide open, and a locked door wouldn’t keep Gabe from leaving if he really wanted to go. Still, the sound of a lock closing off an exit always sent a quick skitter of panic down even the most trained operative’s spine. It was human nature to want freedom, and Mena’s nature to take it away.

Audrey stared at the door in wide-eyed horror. “Why did he lock us in? He said we’re guests. He?—”

“Doesn’t trust me.” Gabe turned to her, gripped her shoulders, and gave her a little shake. “And you shouldn’t trust a thing out of that man’s mouth. He’s more sophisticated and better dressed, but he’s the same as Cocodrilo. Don’t let his charm blind you to that.”

“But… but he said he knows how to find Bryson.”

“That’s what he says. Is it true?” As tears filled her eyes, he let go of her shoulders to cup her face and brush them away.

“It could be,” she whispered.

Jesus, she was so innocent to the cruel realities of his world. He wished he could keep her that way, sheltered and naive, but their circumstances didn’t afford her the luxury.

“Audrey, don’t cry.” He exhaled slowly, his own emotions raw and jumbled, a tight knot of helplessness lodged in his gut. “We’ll find out what game Mena’s playing during dinner. Until then, let’s get some rest.”

Because she looked like she needed it, and he needed the time to strategize. A group of recon marines spent two months quietly scoping out Mena’s home last year, and the DOD built a replica of the house and outbuildings in Virginia to run invasion scenarios with, so he knew the floor plan of this estate. Knew all the weak spots in the security system. Liam Miller, the British mercenary hired by Mena to oversee security, was good at what he did, no doubt about it. But Gabe and the SEALs were better, and if there had been no car accident, if Operation Black Boa had gone down as planned, Mena would be sitting in an international prison right now awaiting trial. Not that he deserved a trial.

Gabe led Audrey over to the bed. She looked wrecked, exhaustion bruising her eyes with dark circles. Had she slept at all while he was unconscious? He’d bet not.

Truthfully, unconsciousness didn’t count for sleep, either, and his own energy levels were also in the danger zone. He knew the fuzzy, disjointed feeling well, knew if he didn’t catch a couple of hours of sleep, he’d crash out and be of no use to anyone.

“This is all so messed up,” Audrey murmured, snuggling into the big bed on her belly, arms wrapped tight around a pillow.

“It is.” He tucked the blanket around her. “SEALs refer to situations like this as fubar. Fucked up beyond all recognition.”

Her lips curved in a hint of a smile, but it didn’t last long. “I’m not going to sleep.” Even as the words left her, she yawned.

“Try.”

She yawned again. Now that she was horizontal, she was fading fast and fighting it. “I shouldn’t have convinced you to stay here.”

Gabe thought about telling her that despite what Mena had said, the drug kingpin wasn’t going to let them leave until he was good and ready for them to go. Their surroundings were more comfortable, but substituting a castle for a prison didn’t change the fact it was still a prison.

Instead, he brushed back a lock of her hair. “Sleep.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes fluttered shut, and a second later, she was gone.

Wishing he were that pillow she cuddled so close and cursing himself for the unprofessionalism of that thought, he sat on the edge of the mattress and watched her for a long time. Her braid had loosened, spilling pale golden brown hair over the paler gold blankets. Her eyes moved restlessly behind their lids, and every once in a while, she made a small sound of protest and hugged the pillow tighter. He reached out, traced the curve of her cheek with one finger, and she settled again with a soft sigh.

Ah, hell.

He started to remove the pillow from her grip and caught a whiff of himself. Whew. He couldn’t subject her to that stench. Shower first, then sleep—with Audrey tucked safely in his arms for a couple of hours.

Sleeping together like that wasn’t unprofessional, right?