Marching Orders

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Prologue

Monte de Leon, present

A bullet slammed into the crumbling chimney just inches from Captain Rafe McQuade’s head. He mumbled some vicious profanity and flattened his body against the battered roof of the abandoned hacienda.

“I’ve got an admirer,” he snarled into the thumbnail-size communicator on the collar of his camouflage uniform. “Do me a favor, Rico, and take him out, will you?”

“I’m trying” was the reply he got from Captain Cal Rico.

All hell was breaking loose on the ground twenty feet below him. Artillery shells. Frantic shouts. The smell of battle, smoke and gunfire.

None of which was supposed to be happening.

Talk about Murphy’s Law. Anything that could go wrong, had. And now his Alpha Team members—and Anna—were neck-deep in cross fire between two warring rebel factions that had chosen this godforsaken place for a showdown.

Rafe inched forward, leaving the meager cover of the overhanging tree that he’d used to climb onto the building. His equipment belt and assault rifle scraped along the bleached roof tiles.

Come hell or high water, he would get Anna out. Failure was not an option.

“Infrared shows no one else inside the building. For now,” Rico informed him through the receiver in Rafe’s ear. “But Anna just moved into the cellar. You can access it through a door beneath the stairs.”

“Atta girl,” Rafe mumbled. With gunfire riddling the papery walls, the cellar was her best bet. Now, hopefully, she’d stay put until he got to her.

“I’m going in,” he informed Rico.

Rafe scrambled to the lip of the roof, gripped onto the eaves and launched himself over the side. His feet crashed through the second-story window just below, and with his weapon ready to fire, he hit the floor running.

The hacienda had obviously been abandoned for months. Rafe fought his way through the litter of bashed furniture and debris to get to the stairs. He stopped at the landing and glanced down at the glass-strewn foyer. No sign of gunmen, but someone had shot out the windows and ripped off the double doors. The muggy breeze stirred what was left of a pair of ghostly white curtains. Just curtains.

Maybe.

Just outside the doorway, he saw a shadow of motion that had him holding his tongue.

Silently repositioning his weapon, Rafe waited. A second. Then two. Before he saw the man step into the foyer. A rebel fighter with an angry-looking machete and a semiautomatic. And he had his attention focused on the door that led to the cellar. Maybe the guy had actually seen Anna run in there. It didn’t matter. There was no way Rafe would let him get to her.

No way.

The man looked up. A split-second glance as he tried to take aim. It was the last glance or aim he’d ever attempt. Rafe took him out with two shots to the head. The rebel fell into a heap on the floor.

“I just lost an admirer,” Rafe reported to Rico.

Rafe barreled down the wide spiraling steps and made his way to the arch-shaped door beneath. “It’s me—Rafe,” he called out. “Open up, Anna!”

Almost immediately he heard her footsteps on the cellar stairs. With each one, his heart was right in his throat. There was a shuffle of movement before she opened the scarred door a fraction.

Rafe came face-to-face with a handgun.

Anna peered out at him, her gaze combing the foyer. Relief raced through him. And a whole host of other emotions that he didn’t want to take the time to analyze.

“You came,” she whispered, her voice shattering. She lowered her weapon. “I can’t believe you came.”

He pushed her back into the cellar and kicked the door shut, barricading it with the two-by-four and equipment bag already on the stairs. “Of course, I came. I’m an Air Force Combat Rescue Officer, darling. A highly trained CRO. Saving beautiful photographers is what I do best.”

She made a soft sound of frightened laughter, slipped her firearm into her pocket and caught on to him.

Rafe was about to tell her how ticked off he was that she hadn’t evacuated with the other journalists, but Anna stopped him. She latched her arms around him, and her mouth came to his. One kiss, and he forgot all about chewing her out.

Hell, he forgot how to breathe.

All Rafe knew was that he’d never, never wanted a kiss as much as he wanted that one.

Anna broke the mouth-to-mouth contact but held on tight. Rafe pushed the damp strands of honey-colored hair from her face and looked down at her. Her dark eyes shimmered with tears. Outside, the sounds of the fight began to fade, a clear indication that the Alpha Team was closing in.

“Anna’s alive and well?” Rico asked into Rafe’s earpiece.

Before he could answer, Rafe had to clear away the lump that’d settled in his throat. “Affirmative. Are we secure yet?”

“Only the area immediately surrounding the hacienda. Colonel Shaw’s arranging transport for Anna, but you’re looking at two hours, maybe three. I’ll give you a rendezvous point and time when I have it. Hold your positions until further orders.”

“Copy.” Rafe clicked off the audio portion of his communicator. Two hours, maybe three. He could have waited weeks now that he knew Anna was all right.

“How did you find out I was here?” she asked, lifting her head from his shoulder.

“The Alpha Team’s doing some jungle maneuvers so I’ve been keeping track of you since you arrived in Bogotá on assignment three days ago.”

Anna gave him a considering look. “And with all the jungles in South America, you just happened to choose the remote village of Monte de Leon for those maneuvers?”

Rafe decided it was best to avoid answering that truthfully. “In a way.”

A troubled sigh left her mouth, but she didn’t ask for an explanation. Which was a good thing. He couldn’t tell her about the classified mission that involved the Alpha Team, or the fact that he’d made sure he was close by in case something went wrong.

Rafe led her down the narrow steps and into the heart of the cellar. It was clammy, and the only light came from a bread-loaf size ventilation window at the back. He moved them as far away from that as he could, and with her snuggled in his arms, he sank onto a crumpled blanket in the corner.

“Soon we’ll both be on our way back to Texas. Promise. Everything will be all right,” he assured her.

Rafe leaned in and brushed his mouth over hers. It might have been just a brief kiss if she hadn’t made a sound of relief, and pleasure. A throaty, feminine sound that sent a trickle of fire through his blood.