Accidental Commando Read online

  But the major hadn’t asked her to sit. He obviously hadn’t expected this interview to last long. Tyler hadn’t gotten comfortable, either. He had taken up a post beside the potted ferns that flanked the doors, his feet braced apart and his hands clasped behind his back. Though he wasn’t looking at her, Emily had the feeling he was fully aware of everything she did.

  On the other hand, just because she was conscious of everything he did didn’t mean the interest was mutual. Not that she was interested. The sooner she could be rid of him, the better. She’d never had much tolerance for take-charge men, no matter how sexy they happened to be.

  She slid the strap of her sundress back on her shoulder and crossed her arms. “El Gato?”

  “It’s what the assassin is known as,” the major replied.

  “And you really don’t know what he looks like?”

  “We have only general descriptions.”

  “How is that possible? With the number of surveillance cameras around nowadays, I would have thought he’d have been photographed by now.”

  “Not at a crime scene.”

  “What about his passport?”

  “He would have several passports in different names, and in all probability, he’s been filmed by airport security innumerable times, but that doesn’t allow us to track him. Surveillance footage of crowds is useless unless Intelligence knows what he looks like in the first place.”

  “There must have been someone else who could identify him.”

  “Miss Wright, the main reason no one can identify this criminal is because it’s his practice to leave no witnesses. The body of a young construction worker was found three blocks from the plaza an hour ago. He had been stripped and strangled.”

  She remembered the casual way El Gato had struck her. And the bullet holes in her hotel room wall at the height of her head. If it hadn’t been for Tyler…

  She hugged her arms more tightly across her chest. “So he’s dangerous. But since when does the United States Army concern itself with catching criminals? We’re not even on American soil. What about Interpol? Or the Rocaman Police? From what the cowboy told me—” she lifted one hand to gesture toward Tyler “—this sounds like a job for cops, not soldiers.”

  “We aren’t concerned with apprehending El Gato,” the major said. “We want only to stop him.”

  “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

  “El Gato’s target is an American citizen, specifically our envoy to Rocama. Our mission is to protect the envoy.”

  “You’re acting as bodyguards? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “All right, then why don’t you just stick the envoy in a bulletproof Humvee and put a bunch of sharpshooters in helicopters? Why all this secrecy? Don’t you trust the Rocamans?”

  A faint buzzer sounded before Major Redinger could reply. He took a cell phone from his pocket, listened briefly, then snapped it shut. “Miss Wright, the envoy is due to arrive at the palace within the hour. Can we count on your cooperation?”

  “I already told Sergeant Matheson I’d be willing to testify if there’s a trial. I know how that works. Or do you want me to talk with a sketch artist or something, so you know who you’re looking for?”

  “While I appreciate the offer, I’m afraid time is of the essence. We need a more hands-on approach.” He nodded to Tyler, who immediately turned from the window and came forward. “We’d like you to accompany Sergeant Matheson as he continues his surveillance of the plaza.”

  “What? You’re kidding.”

  “This is not a laughing matter, Miss Wright. We want you to point out El Gato if you see him.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” she said, backing up. “I only agreed to meet with you because I wanted some guarantee that the damage to my room and my belongings will be covered. That’s all. I’ve got plans for today.”

  Redinger glanced at Tyler. “Sergeant?”

  “I already assured Miss Wright we’d take care of the damage, Major.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Miss Wright doesn’t trust anyone with a Y chromosome, sir.”

  Emily bumped into a side table. She turned to steady the vase of flowers it held. And to hide the blush that was burning her cheeks. Had she said that? Probably. But the way Tyler had repeated her words in a flat, impersonal tone, as if he were making an official report, had made them sound petty. Bitter. As if she were so focused on her grudge against the male sex that she couldn’t see there were more important things happening in the world. Things that didn’t revolve around her and her hurt feelings.

  Yes, well, maybe she was indulging herself a little too much with that. He might understand where she was coming from if he’d had his life turned upside down and stomped on, too. It was the morning after what should have been her wedding night. Her wounds were too fresh for her to feel reasonable. She was entitled to some anger.

  It was preferable to tears.

  She stopped fidgeting with the vase and lifted her chin. “I’m here for a vacation. A nice, relaxing, stress-free ho—” She swallowed. She had almost said honeymoon. “Holiday,” she finished.

  “Not anymore,” the major said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Miss Wright, you must understand the seriousness of the situation. If we know you can identify El Gato, then it’s certain that he has reached the same conclusion. He will likely decide to silence you.”

  “What? No, he couldn’t know I remember him. Most people wouldn’t. It happened really fast. I just have a knack for faces.”

  “We have no doubt he’s responsible for the death of the construction worker today. That’s his pattern. You can’t resume your vacation as if nothing has happened. He knows where you’re staying, and he’s already tried to kill you once.”

  Was the major deliberately trying to scare her? He didn’t appear to be. His matter-of-fact manner hadn’t changed. Neither had the quiet confidence he projected. And that made what he was saying all the more scary.

  “If you choose to work with us, we can keep you safe. But if you don’t, then your only alternative is to leave Rocama City immediately.”

  “No way. I’m not going home yet. I couldn’t. I just got here. I already paid for ten days.”

  Major Redinger dipped his chin in a tight nod. “You made the best choice, Miss Wright. Our government is grateful for your help.”

  “Wait. I didn’t say—”

  “Sergeant Matheson?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Time to get into position.”

  Tyler saluted the major, took Emily’s elbow and turned her toward the doorway. “This way, ma’am.”

  They were in the gallery and had passed by the first three portraits before she had the presence of mind to wrench her arm free. This wasn’t the first time he’d hauled her around like this. Why did she keep letting him get away with it?

  He walked ahead without slowing.

  “What just happened in there?” she called after him. “I didn’t agree to anything.”

  “You volunteered.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “It’s all the same in the army.”

  “I’m not in the army. I’m an American citizen on vacation. You can’t just…draft me. All I said was that I wasn’t going to turn tail and run.”

  “Right, Valkyries don’t.”

  The echo from the tile floor must have distorted his words. She jogged to catch up to him. “What did you say?”

  “We’ll be watching from an outdoor café that’s to the east of the palace. We’ll keep a wall and the sun to our backs so you’ll be safe. From there we’ll have a good view of the plaza and the approach to the palace gates.”

  “You said something that sounded like Valkyrie. What was it?”

  “I don’t recall.”

  “You don’t like answering questions much, do you?”

  “No. Once we’re in position, I’ll be watching
the higher vantage points, since I know what El Gato looks like from a distance. You can scan the faces of the people in the plaza. Pay particular attention to those near the palace’s public entrance. There’s no time to fit you with a com device, but I’ll pass along what you say through mine, so sing out if you spot anyone familiar.”

  “It sounds too simple.”

  “The best solutions usually are.” He pushed open one of the double doors at the end of the corridor, looked outside, then gestured for her to exit first. A shady courtyard paved with cobblestones stretched in front of them. “Ready?”

  “Would it make any difference if I said I wasn’t?”

  “Would it make any difference if I told you the envoy’s a woman?”

  She scowled as she stepped outside. “No, why should it?”

  He shrugged. “I thought you might be more inclined to save a life if you knew it wasn’t male.”

  Given the parameters of the mission, the team had decided ahead of time that going low-profile was the best strategy, which was why the convoy from the airport consisted of only two vehicles. They would be hiding the envoy in plain sight, so they depended on blending in with the rest of the traffic. On the surface, there was nothing remarkable about the cars they were using, yet they were unlike anything the locals would be driving.

  Each was equipped with a transponder that enabled their positions to be tracked to within a few meters. Major Redinger and Chief Warrant Officer Esposito were monitoring their communications and GPS coordinates from the operations base they’d set up at the palace. Among other special features, the cars had run-flat tires and a supply of smoke bombs in case a quick escape was called for. Their biggest advantage was the fact that Kurt Lang was driving the car that carried the envoy. He had a spooky affinity for anything mechanized.

  Tyler’s earbud crackled to life. “Entering the Old Quarter now,” Lang said. “We should be at the gates in twenty.”

  “How’s it look at that end, junior?” Duncan asked. He and Jack were in the lead car. While they would be alert for choke points and possible ambushes, their main purpose was to find the optimum route to keep their small convoy moving.

  Tyler balanced his chair on its back legs and continued the methodical survey he’d been doing for the past quarter hour. He scrutinized the buildings around the plaza, concentrating on the roofs first and then on the facades. It was approaching noon, so much of the activity in the marketplace at the south end of the plaza had tapered off. He activated his transmitter. “Still clear.”

  “What about our witness?”

  He reached across the round café table to touch Emily’s arm. “Ma’am?”

  She tipped down her sunglasses and looked at him over the rims. “If you’re asking me whether I see the guy, the answer is still no. I told you that I’ll tell you if I do, so trust me on that. I have absolutely no reason to keep that information to myself, since according to your major, the guy might decide to use me for target practice.”

  Someone snickered. “A bit tetchy today, isn’t she?” Lang commented.

  “Guess she doesn’t like babysitting junior,” Jack said.

  “Can you blame her? The smell of his acne cream alone makes most women run.”

  “Enough chatter, people,” Redinger cut in. “Let’s keep this channel clear for business.”

  Emily poked her finger against Tyler’s forearm. “What happens if I do spot him? Are you going to shoot him?”

  He switched off his mike. “Ma’am—”

  “Where’s that big gun you had? I don’t see it.”

  He’d left his sniper rifle at the palace, but Tyler was seldom unarmed. At the moment he had a laser-sighted pistol concealed at the small of his back, four spare ammo magazines in his pockets, an extra pistol strapped to his left calf and his favorite knife in his right boot. “A weapon like that tends to attract attention in a sidewalk café,” he said. “How’s your orange juice, ma’am?”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine. The juice is nice and cold. But I would have preferred coffee.”

  “Orange juice is better for a hangover.”

  She parted her lips as if she were about to argue, then sighed and picked up her glass. “How did you guess?”

  He slanted her a glance. “Empty booze bottle, ice pack on forehead, bloodshot eyes.” He didn’t mention her foul mood. He suspected that had started before she’d overindulged. “You’re observant.”

  “I’m trained to be.”

  “Then if you’re that observant, why weren’t you able to see El Gato’s face yourself?”

  “I only saw him from above and from behind. Then I was focused on getting you out of the line of fire.”

  She took a long swallow of juice. “I should thank you. You probably saved my life.”

  “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

  “But you wouldn’t have needed to save my life in the first place if you hadn’t chosen my balcony window to crash through.”

  It had been this way since they’d sat down. Emily seemed to like to talk, yet for every civil comment she made, she tacked on something argumentative. She had to realize he hadn’t chosen her window. He’d been following El Gato. “It won’t work,” Tyler said. “What?”

  “I’m not going to quarrel with you.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “I grew up with four sisters. I can tell when a woman is trying to pick a fight.”

  She set her glass down on the table with a clunk.

  “The man you’re really angry with,” Tyler said. “Is he your husband?”

  “I’m not married.”

  “Divorced, then?”

  “Why would you think that I should be either? Women don’t need men to complete them, you know. It’s not as if marriage is the be-all and end-all of our existence. It’s incredibly chauvinistic of you to assume—”

  “Whoa, I didn’t assume anything.” He gestured to her hand. “You’ve got a tan line on your ring finger, that’s all.”

  She pushed her sunglasses back into place and crossed her arms, tucking her left hand beneath her elbow. “It’s none of your business.”

  “It is if your attitude toward men is going to interfere with your ability to help us.”

  For a change, she remained silent.

  Tyler took the time to study her. The strap of her dress slid off her shoulder again. It had been doing that since they’d left her hotel room. Hadn’t she packed anything that wasn’t designed for seduction? Without the support of the strap, her scoop neckline gaped enough to show a hint of cleavage. He suspected she wouldn’t have had cleavage if not for her tightly crossed arms. Not that her breasts were too small. They would fit perfectly in his palms.

  Emily couldn’t be called classically beautiful. Her chin was pointed and she kept it thrust out. Her long, narrow nose was covered with freckles, as was most of her skin that was visible. Her most striking feature, her vivid green eyes, were hidden behind the dark lenses of her sunglasses. As for her mouth, she was effectively hiding that behind a tight-lipped expression, so he had no idea how she normally looked. She’d tried to tame her hair into a ponytail with a fabric-covered elastic, but big chunks of it had escaped to hang in wild, red curls against her nape and her cheeks. The curls looked wiry, yet he suspected they would be soft to the touch. He imagined winding a lock around his finger. Or maybe spreading it across a pillow.

  A man could get lost in all that hair. Considering the energy she was putting into her anger, she’d be something else if she ever channeled that into passion.

  She drummed her fingers on her arm. “If you don’t like my attitude, that’s too bad. I didn’t ask to be here. I was hijacked. Or press-ganged. Or whatever it is you people do to civilians.”

  “You’re free to leave.”

  “Right. Then I’d never see the money for the damage to my hotel room.” She fingered the hem of her dress. “Not to mention my clothes. Did you k
now there’s a bullet hole in my dress?”

  “You can trust—”

  “Hah. We’ve already had this conversation, so you know what I think about the issue of trust. Whether you’re a soldier or not, you’re still a man.”

  Tyler started another scan of the plaza. He waited until he was done before he spoke again. “He really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

  “Who?”

  “The guy whose ring you wore.”

  “Okay, Mr. Observant,” she snapped. “You’re right. I’m pissed off at one particular scuzzball, and I’m taking it out on the gender at large. Why do you think I needed this vacation?” She picked up her glass again and drained it, then slipped her fingers beneath her sunglasses and wiped her eyes.

  He kept his face impassive. Emily probably didn’t realize that he could see her on the edge of his vision. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have given herself away by wiping her tears. She wouldn’t have realized that he could hear the catch in her breathing, either, that telltale, hiccupping gasp that women made when they were trying not to cry. Emily wouldn’t want him to know there was any softness under the prickly hide she armored herself with.

  So he resisted the sudden urge he felt to pull her into his arms. He knew instinctively that she wouldn’t welcome the offer of a shoulder to cry on. She had too much pride to accept sympathy from a stranger. And that’s what they were. Strangers. In spite of the fact that he’d seen and felt her naked body…and that he was imagining what he’d do if he had that opportunity again.

  He brought the front legs of his chair to the ground with a thud. The mission was his priority. He couldn’t let Emily’s feelings interfere with it any more than he could let his own. “You’re not crying, are you, ma’am?”