The Heart's Command Page 11

  Finally—finally!—they fishtailed to a stop. Buchanan fiddled with the instruments, climbed out of the front cockpit and nonchalantly strolled forward to peer over the edge of the plateau. He ambled back a few moments later, wearing a thoroughly satisfied expression.

  "We're right on target. The village looks like it's only a mile or so away."

  Thoroughly rattled and trying hard not to show it, Dani climbed out of the cockpit on rubbery legs. "That means the caves are, too."

  "So what's the plan?"

  "Give me a minute, okay? I'm still waiting for my stomach to catch up with the rest of me."

  He looked genuinely wounded. "You weren't worried, were you? I told you the Stearman could stop on a dime."

  "I'll feel a lot better if you'd tell me she can take off again on the same ten cents. With—assuming we get lucky!—a third passenger."

  "That shouldn't be a problem."

  "Shouldn't?"

  "Well, I might need to siphon off some fuel. How much does your sister weigh? "

  "About the same as I do, give or take a few pounds. Or she did, the last time I saw her."

  The last of Dani's shakiness disappeared, edged out by the hollow, helpless feeling that had haunted her for the past three weeks. She'd listened to the taped interview with the Canadian executive who'd escaped his kidnappers, knew what indignities and deprivations he'd suffered.

  But Patricia was tough, Dani reminded herself grimly. She couldn't have made it in the mostly male, ultramacho world of hydroelectric engineering without developing survival skills. Besides which, Daniel Flynn had made sure both his girls could protect themselves.

  "Okay," Dani said, pulling in a steadying breath, "here's the plan. You stay and guard the plane. I'll work my way down the cliffs, using—"

  "Dammit, I thought I made myself clear last night! We're in this together, Flynn."

  The anger that flared hot and swift gave Jack his first hint that he might be in over his head. The idea of Dani climbing down those cliffs to take on a band of kidnappers put a kink in his gut. The fact that she'd intended to go it alone completely infuriated him. Conveniently forgetting that he always insisted on flying solo himself, he barked out an order.

  "Help me push the plane under those trees."

  "Look, Buchanan—"

  "Now, Captain!"

  Her arm whipped up in a mock salute. "Yes, sir!"

  Simmering with irritation, he positioned her behind the left wing and lined up on the right. It took both of them to angle the biplane around and back it tail-first under the shelter of a piñon. While Dani gathered loose branches to cover the nose, Jack hauled over two good-size boulders and jammed them against the wheels.

  "That should keep her," he pronounced.

  Reaching into his canvas flight bag, he pulled out a Glock. Dani's brows snapped together as he popped the magazine, checked the load and slapped it back in again.

  "When did crop dusters start carrying police specials with crosshatched grips and laser sights?"

  Shrugging, Buchanan holstered the Glock, unbuckled his belt and slid the weapon around to the small of his back. "I can't speak for the rest of the profession, but I never leave home without one. Ready?"

  "Ready."

  Not fifteen minutes later, Dani was forced to call a halt.

  This narrow slice of Barranca del Cobre didn't run to soft, purple dusks. Once the sun dropped behind the mountains, dark shadows speared across the cliffs. Seemingly in the next minute, inky darkness coated the peaks, the valley and everything in between.

  Anticipating a night operation, Dani had tucked a set of night-vision goggles into her gear bag. Even with their powerful capabilities, however, a night descent was just too darned dangerous. Besides, she'd brought only one set. No way was she letting Buchanan navigate in the dark. Biting down on her frustration, she insisted they climb back to the plateau.

  "We'll grab a few hours sleep and try again come dawn."

  Going back up was easier than going down. Dumping her bag beside the fuselage, Dani kicked away some of the concealing scrub while Buchanan dragged out the packed chutes, the seat cushions and his brown leather bomber jacket.

  "It won't be the first time I've bedded down under this baby's wings," he acknowledged, arranging the chutes and cushions into a rough mattress. He seemed to take it as a matter of course that they'd sleep side by side.

  Remembering his husky promise to finish what they'd started, Dani opened her mouth to inform him this wasn't the time or the place for a roll in the seat cushions. The chill breeze dancing along her arms had her shutting it again. The temperature would drop considerably before dawn. It only made sense to share body heat.

  But that's all they'd share. There was too much at stake and she was too darned close to her objective to lose her edge now. With that thought firmly in mind, she dropped down on one knee and fumbled in her bag. She'd left most of her spare clothes at the hotel, but the silver bracelet was in the bag, tucked away for safekeeping. Nudging it aside, she rummaged around for the toils of her trade.

  "You sack out," he instructed. "I'll take first watch."

  "We can both sack out. I, uh, requisitioned a supply of electronic sensors for this mission."

  With a flourish, she extracted a package of wafer thin, dime-size disks wrapped in. electrostatic plastic, and what looked like an ordinary sports watch.

  "These babies are simple, silent and highly effective. If anyone or anything steps on them, the wrist receiver emits an electrical pulse. This little contraption has jolted me out of sleep more than once," she admitted wryly.

  He hunkered down beside her while she unwrapped the disks. "How do you activate them?"

  She moved his fingers until he found the slight ridge on the underside of one. "You just slide this little tab to the right, then sow the sensors at ten or fifteen foot intervals."

  "Got it. I'll plant a half-dozen on the goat path we just climbed up. You sow some around the far edge of the plateau, just in case."

  Torn between amusement and irritation, Dani glanced up at his shadowed face. Evidently you could take the pilot out of the Air Force, but not out of the habit of command.

  Ten minutes later they were back at the plane. Buchanan made himself comfortable on the seat cushions, taking up more than his fair share of space. Hopefully, he eyed her leather carryall.

  "Any chance your magic bag of tricks contains anything edible?"

  "As a matter of fact, it does. I raided the bar in our room before we left this morning. We have chocolate bars. We have Spanish peanuts. We have individual rounds of Gouda and Cheddar. Crackers. What I'm guessing are smoked beef strips. Bottled water, and..." she squinted at the label on a tall, slender jar "... cocktail onions. "

  "Doesn't sound like we'll starve."

  "In one night? Hardly." She tossed him the can of peanuts. "Besides, you went through survival training. Didn't they teach you to make a meal on beetles?"

  "Beetles, mosquito larvae and the occasional snake or two." Popping the top on the can, he scooped out a fistful of peanuts. "What about you? Did you have to crunch down bugs in spy school?"

  "A few," she admitted, firmly repressing all thoughts of those weeks of Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape training. SERE did not rank among her favorite memories.

  While they made a serious dent in the cheese and crackers, the night deepened around them. Shivering, Dani pulled on her nylon windbreaker. The thin layer of protection lessened the bite but generated only minimal warmth. She left Buchanan shrugging into his beat-up leather jacket, and ducked behind a tree for a few minutes. When she returned, he'd taken full possession of the seat cushions.

  "Think you can make room for two there?"

  She caught a gleam of white teeth. "If we squeeze up tight."

  Dani hesitated. For a brief instant, she felt just like Little Red Riding Hood standing before the big bad wolf.

  Which was totally absurd. The wolf hadn't even tried to sink his f
angs into her this morning when she'd cuddled up against him on a nice, soft mattress. He wasn't likely to do so tonight, when they were both fully clothed and bedded down on a mountain, for pity's sake.

  Which just went to show how little she knew about wolves. Or Buchanan. She'd no sooner wiggled into a comfortable position when he pounced. So to speak. It was actually more of a roll than a pounce, but it tilted the cushions and wedged her against him.

  "You're not contemplating anything stupid, are you?" he growled.

  Her heart skipped a beat. With his mouth only inches from hers, she was contemplating a number of things, almost all of which were monumentally stupid. From the way he'd phrased the question, however, she guessed he wasn't entertaining the same carnal thoughts she was.

  "Such as?" she asked, just to clarify matters.

  "Such as slipping off the way you tried to do last night and tackling those cliffs on your own. I'm a light sleeper, remember?"

  "I remember," she said coolly. "If I do decide to slip off, I'll make sure you're out for the count."

  "Wrong answer, Flynn." The irritation that had roughened his voice earlier surged back. "When are you going to accept that we're a team?"

  "Oh, I don't know. About the same time you do, I suppose."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means, Mr. I-always-fly-solo, that we both possess certain unique skills and don't necessarily feel the need to consult with each other about how to employ them.. .even when one of us is sitting in the rear cockpit, ready to toss up her cookies."

  "Still hacked off about that landing? I got us down, didn't I?"

  "Yes, you did. I just wish you'd let me know what you plan to do before you do it next time."

  He thought about that for a few moments, his eyes unreadable in the darkness that surrounded them.

  "All right I'll give it a shot. Here's the plan rattling around in my head right now. First, I'm going to kiss you. On the lips to start with. Then I'm thinking seriously about unzipping your jacket, tugging off your T-shirt and jeans and kissing the rest of you."

  Dani's mouth opened. Snapped shut. A dozen flip retorts flashed into her mind, but she didn't utter any of them for the simple reason that Buchanan had already bent his head and was initiating Phase I of his plan.

  She braced herself for another fighter pilot-type attack, was all prepared to laugh it off and put an end to matters before they went any further. Instead of swooping down with guns blazing, however, the sneaky devil glided in and merely brushed her lips with his. Slowly. Gently.

  So slowly, she had time to absorb the taste of salty peanuts along with the rich scent of leather and healthy male. So gently, she un-braced and allowed herself to relax.

  That, of course, was exactly the incentive Buchanan needed to implement Phase II. His head angled. His mouth fastened hard and sure on hers. One hand tunneled into her hair, tangling in the windblown strands, and held her steady while his tongue began a dark, sensual exploration.

  Dani thought about calling a halt at that point. She urgently needed to stay centered, to concentrate all her focus on the coming dawn.

  Yet dawn suddenly seemed so far away.

  And Buchanan was right here, right now.

  She fought a fierce, silent battle with herself and lost. Her palms flattened on the worn leather, slid up to hook around his neck. Her tongue danced with his, slowly at first, then with increasing greed. She closed her eyes, shutting out the silhouette of canvas wings and the swaying piñon branches just beyond, allowing Buchanan to dominate her mind as well as her senses.

  All too soon, she was ready to move from her mind and her senses directly to her body. Or more correctly, to move on to his. The hands she'd hooked behind his neck unlocked and made a slow trip south, stopping momentarily at each button along the way. His belt buckle gave after a tug or two. His jeans unsnapped with a small pop.

  He lifted his head, his breath coming hard and fast. "This team business works both ways, green-eyes. You want to tell me what's next on your agenda? Just so we can coordinate our activities, you understand."

  Dani understood. He was giving her the choice. As far as she was concerned, there was only one. It was right there, under her palm, hard and straining against his zipper.

  "The first item on my agenda," she said on a low, husky note, "is this."

  She pressed the heel of her hand against the ridge and felt a leap of feminine delight at his instant response.

  "Then," she murmured, "I thought I might try this."

  Her fingers found the zipper tab and worked it down. When she dipped inside the open waistband, he gave a little grunt and went stiff all over.

  After that, they abandoned the pretense of following any sort of plan. There was a wild rush to shed their clothes, an urgent tangle of arms and hips and legs. Jack retained just enough sanity to grab his flight bag, fumble among the charts and assorted jumble for a condom, and sheathe himself before Dani's greedy mouth and hands sent him straight into a tailspin.

  With his muscles coiled, his entire body taut with need, he kneed her legs apart and positioned himself at the entrance to her slick, wet core. As eager as he, she hooked her calves around his and canted her hips to meet his thrust.

  She was every thrill Jack had ever experienced in the air and on the ground, all rolled into one incredible woman. When he tried to throttle back, she pushed him harder and faster. When he drove into her with the force and rhythm of a piston, she gasped, stiffened and locked him deep within her.

  The earth was falling away beneath him when her entire body arched. A groan ripped free from far back in her throat.

  "Jack! I can't...hold...back!"

  "Then don't!"

  With a rush of primitive satisfaction, he took her over the edge. Satisfaction gave way to a momentary sense of masculine power while Dani spasmed around him. Then she shuddered, gripped him tight with arms and legs and drove him right off the planet.

  She woke him hours later the same way she had the morning before—with a low hiss and a sharp jab to the ribs.

  "Jack!"

  The hiss barely penetrated his consciousness, but the sharp elbow got his attention. He jerked, tightening his arm around her instinctively, and blinked awake. Before he could grunt out a demand to know what that was all about, she whispered an urgent warning.

  "Quiet! The sensors have picked up some kind of movement."

  He went still, listening intently. The wind sighed through the tree branches. An owl hooted in the distance. Nothing else disturbed the quiet.

  "What was it?" he murmured.

  "I'm not sure."

  He threw a quick look over his shoulder. The distant glow of dawn gilded the peaks to the east, but their private patch of mountaintop remained bathed in darkness.

  Suddenly, he heard a sound. The faint scrabble of a paw or a hoof—or a foot!—on rock. Caught by the wind and carried up to the plateau.

  "Sounds like something's climbing up toward us," he whispered into her ear. "Could be a deer or a mountain cat."

  "Could be," she agreed grimly. "Or it could be that someone saw the plane come down and has decided to check it out."

  That particular thought had occurred to Jack, too. It was hovering foremost in his mind when another rattle of stones broke the stillness. No doubt about it. Someone or something was climbing up the cliffs below.

  Both he and Dani sprang into swift, silent action. With a lithe twist, she shed his protective arm and the leather bomber jacket he'd tucked around her while she slept. Hastily, she scrambled into her clothes and grabbed her Beretta with one hand, the scanner with the other.

  Jack yanked on his jeans, shoved his feet into his boots and snatched up the Glock. A heartbeat later, they were crouched low and racing for the edge of the escarpment.

  Chapter 5

  Buchanan cut through the darkness with the silent, lethal grace of a panther. Dani had worked with a number of operatives during her years as an undercover agent, but ha
d to admit the ex-fighter pilot seemed to possess the instincts of a born hunter.

  Twenty or so yards from the edge of the plateau, they took up positions designed to provide maximum concealment and an unobstructed line of fire. Dani crouched behind a bush that gave off the pungent stink of turpentine. Jack dropped into a fissure in the rock.

  The sun was gold-plating the peaks to the east, but the predawn light had yet to sweep across the plateau. Squinting through the darkness, Dani communicated with Jack by means of hand signals. Together, they worked out a rough plan. She would aim the scanner, Jack the Glock. She'd raise one finger to indicate she'd picked up the heat source. Two to signify it appeared to be of the two-legged variety. Three...

  Three meant it was armed and potentially dangerous. In which case Dani would remain concealed, allow the source to climb onto the plateau and let Jack get the drop on him—or them!—from behind.

  Pure, undiluted adrenaline pumped through her veins. The receiver strapped to her wrist was pulsing like mad now. Their uninvited guest had tripped at least a half-dozen sensors.

  Dani gripped the small scanning device with sweaty palms, willing herself to calm, forcing air into her lungs in measured breaths. Still, every nerve in her body jolted when she heard another scuffle of foot on stone, followed by a grunt.

  No, not a grunt. More like a gasp. A harsh, ragged intake of breath laced with panic. Or desperation.

  Her jaw tight, Dani aimed the scanner directly toward the sound. A green blip appeared on the screen. She stabbed one finger into the air to let Buchanan know she'd picked up the heat source. A moment later, the blip took on shape and definition, and a second finger shot up.

  With startling clarity, the scanner tracked the figure that heaved itself onto the plateau and lay flat, panting. It was definitely of the two-legged variety, wearing what looked like ragged cotton pants and a fatigue-type shirt. Dani's throat closed as she made out the green-and-black camouflage spots on the shirt...and the automatic rifle slung over the man's back.

  Grimly, she jabbed a third finger into the air.