Page 25 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

Drago shrugged modestly beside her. “I’ve been in this business a few years. You learn things here and there. Develop a sixth sense for the man behind you.”

He was taking credit for her kills? Now, why would he do that? Was there more to this arms dealer than met the eye? Did he actually have a conscience? She glanced up at him in gratitude. He ignored her, his jaw hard.

“I would like to see how fast you are, sometime,” the leader speculated.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Drago replied grimly. “I only draw my weapon to kill. And you don’t want to be on the receiving end of my shooting. I never miss.”

The rebel glanced around the clearing reluctantly. “So I see. I must admit, we’d have been in trouble without your gun. You dropped almost half those soldiers by yourself.”

Elise glanced up at Drago, startled. He’d killed half the bandits on his own? And he was demanding to know who she was? Who was he?

A man jogged up to the apparent leader. “All the soldiers are dead and we stripped the useful gear. But someone is calling them on the radio We should leave soon before backup arrives.”

The report galvanized the party. They all took off running down the hill toward their vehicles.

“Let’s go. Raoul will be most interested to hear about this little ambush.”

“Were the attackers Colombian Army?” Drago asked tersely.

“Aye.”

“Their intel is good if they knew I was coming to see you.”

The rebel leader threw him a look of sharp speculation. Yet again, Elise was impressed by Drago’s savvy. By implying that the ambush had been about him, he’d just exponentially raised his status and importance in the eyes of the rebels.

Elise followed Drago down the hill thoughtfully. He seemed content to let the rebels herd them into the backseat of their Jeep. Casually, he tossed the keys to one of their captors.

As the vehicle bumped down the road, she’d have given anything to snuggle up against his big, warm body. Shock from the earlier attack was setting in, and she felt terrible. She’d killed two men. Did they have wives? Kids? What were their names?

“Don’t think about it,” Drago muttered to her in English.

She threw him an anguished look.

His hand crept surreptitiously across the space between them and captured her fingers in his. It was a small comfort, but she was immensely grateful for it. It had been a long time since anyone had offered a shoulder to lean on. Not since Father Ambrose had climbed on that bridge with her and shown her how much she had to offer her fellow man. How, in spite of all she’d lost, she still had so much to live for.

Ever since, she’d always been the one lending others the strength she’d found within herself that cold night. In fact, she’d been nearly manic about it. As if she couldn’t ever pay back her debt to society. Or the debt to her parents. The thought was a hot blade of agony slicing through her gut. She shied away violently from that train of thought. And now she had two more deaths to add to her conscience.

Drago’s fingers tightened on hers as though he sensed her disquiet. Perceptive man. Too perceptive. How on earth was she going to answer his questions when they finally got a moment to themselves to talk? She wanted worse than anything to tell him she wasn’t a nun. But did she dare trust him with that secret? Her life and the lives of the children she was here to save might very well ride on it. No matter how badly she wanted to kiss him again, to see where it took the two of them, she dared not tell. At the end of the day, she couldn’t trust a man like him.

But as sure as she was sitting here, he was going to kiss her again. She’d been lucky this time that they’d been interrupted. If being kidnapped by armed insurgents and ambushed and nearly killed by the Army could be termed luck.

How on earth was she going to resist him next time?

Chapter Six

When they got to wherever they were going, he would corner Elise and do whatever it took to get the truth out of her. She was no more a nun than he was an actual arms dealer. She was, however, a hell of a woman. She hadn’t balked when he’d put a gun in her hands, hadn’t hesitated to kill when she had to, hadn’t gotten all hysterical about it after the fact. Levelheaded, she was. Cool under pressure. The kind of person he could trust with his life.

Except for the fact that she was lying her ass off about the whole nun thing.

If she really was here to rescue some kids, he supposed he could see the logic of the ruse. This wasn’t exactly a safe corner of the world for a woman alone. But why was she here at all? Why hadn’t a mercenary been sent to retrieve the kids? Or at least someone better suited to the dangers of this place? Someone like him.

Whoa. Strike that. He wasn’t about to get into the business of hauling children out of the middle of a brush war. He had a job to do, and that was his first—and only—priority. He swore mentally. Then why was he holding hands with the not-nun and sitting here frantically trying to figure out a plausible explanation for her presence that the senior leadership of the Army of Freedom would buy?

The Jeep pulled into a village as dawn started to lighten the sky. He climbed out of the vehicle and went around to help Elise out. She took his hand for the long step down, and he didn’t release it when she was standing beside him. Rather, he tucked it under his arm, wrapping her fingers around his elbow.

Hopefully, she understood he was signaling to the rebels that she was under his protection. Thankfully, she didn’t balk. In fact, she leaned in close to him as if she drew strength from him. All the better. If only she meant it for real.

They were led into a cantina that looked like just about every other bar in this part of the world. It was dark and the sprinkling of men inside were hard and mean. He and Elise were led to a cramped room in the back and deposited at the table with an admonition to wait for Raoul, the Army of Freedom’s leader, to arrive. The other men stepped back out into the main bar and yelled for breakfast.

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