Dangerous Desires Read online

  The rain lessened to form a fine mist.

  Still shivering, she tried for forward motion, but her legs refused the order, buckling instead, sending her headfirst into brush.

  “I’ve got you,” Drake said. He carried her over to the fire, and set her down on a mat made from palm leaves. “We need to get you warm,” he said, “and that means getting rid of those sweats for now. They’re soaked.”

  She nodded, and with gentle fingers he peeled them off, then pulled her into his lap, her body cradled against his warmth. She lifted her head, opening her mouth to thank him, but the words stopped in her throat as she met the dark heat of his gaze. And then he was there, his mouth against hers. The kiss deepened and sensations exploded inside her.

  Her heart skittered to a stop as a low menacing growl cut through the still night air. Just off to her left, two golden eyes gleamed as a big black cat crouched low, ready to attack…

  Also by Dee Davis

  Dark Deceptions

  Desperate Deeds

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2010 by Dee Davis Oberwetter

  Excerpt from Desperate Deeds copyright © 2010 by Dee Davis Oberwetter

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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  First eBook Edition: July 2010

  ISBN: 978-0-446-56902-6

  Contents

  The rain lessened to form a fine mist

  ALSO BY DEE DAVIS

  COPYRIGHT

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  EPILOGUE

  A PREVIEW OF DESPERATE DEEDS

  THE DISH

  For Lexie and Robert.

  The lights of my life.

  Scíentia Potéstas Est… Knowledge Is Power.

  PROLOGUE

  San Mateo Prison, Serrania Del Baudo, Colombia

  Madeline Reynard squinted in the bright light. After three days of total darkness, the dappled sunlight hurt her eyes. She flinched as the guard shoved her forward, losing her balance and careening into the exercise yard.

  “I’ve got you,” Andrés said, his voice raspy, his English heavily accented as he steadied her. “I’ve been worried.”

  “They put me in solitary,” Madeline whispered. “I have no idea why.”

  “Sometimes there is no reason.” Andrés shrugged. “The main thing is that you’re out now. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. It’s getting easier.” This was the third time she’d been relegated to the dank, windowless cell in the far recesses of the prison. “I just try to think of somewhere else and let my mind carry me away.” She’d spent a good portion of her childhood locked in a closet only slightly smaller than the solitary cell. Her father had clearly believed the adage “out of sight, out of mind.” But the experience was not without value. If Madeline could survive living like that, she could survive anything. Even San Mateo.

  A place for political prisoners, the prison lacked creature comforts. In point of fact, it lacked most everything. Which meant that days loomed long, the only bright spot the minutes spent outside under the canopy of trees. The surrounding jungle reminded her of the cypresses back home, their gnarled arms curving downward into gray-green umbrellas of whispering leaves. The bayou had meant safety. And now the Colombian jungle offered the same.

  “It’s best if you find a way to separate yourself from the reality here,” Andrés was saying. He nodded toward the people scattered about the yard. It was nearly empty, this hour relegated to women and the infirm, her friend falling into the latter category. It had been a long time since she’d had a friend. There’d always been too much to hide. Too much to risk. But now—here—her past didn’t matter.

  “Are you sure they didn’t hurt you?” Andrés asked, his voice colored with worry.

  “I told you I’m fine,” she reiterated as they walked slowly across the yard, her muscles protesting the movement even as her mind rejoiced in her newfound freedom. “I’m just a little stiff, that’s all.”

  She’d met Andrés on her second day in the yard. At first, his matted hair and filthy clothes had been off-putting. But after almost a week in this hellhole, she’d been desperate for human contact.

  When he’d spoken to her in his halting English, it had felt like a gift, as her Spanish was limited to schoolgirl verbs and useless nouns. Which didn’t matter when she was alone in her cell, or being leered at by the guards. It didn’t take a vocabulary to interpret their catcalls. But real conversation, without English, was impossible. And it was conversation that kept the mind sharp. She’d come to need Andrés as much as she needed food and water.

  Madeline closed her eyes, shutting out the small, barren exercise yard, its occupants wretched in their filth.

  “You need to keep moving,” her friend said, his hand warm against her back. “It’s important to stay strong.”

  “I know you’re right, but sometimes when I think about spending the rest of my life here, it doesn’t seem worth it.”

  “You won’t be here forever,” he said, his tone soothing. “Someone will come for you.”

  Madeline laughed, the sound harsh. “I killed a man. There’s nothing anyone can do to change that.”

  “But there were extenuating circumstances.” He frowned. “That should count for something.”

  “Maybe in a fair world.” She shrugged, shivering as memories flooded through her. Her sister’s screams, her fear cutting through the haze of the drugs. The big man pinning her to the wall of the flophouse in Bogotá, one hand gripping her wrist as he tore at her clothes. Madeline had acted without thinking, the gun in her hand an extension of her anger. She’d told Jenny to run, and then checked the body, cringing as she touched his lifeless skin. Then she’d tried to follow, but it was too late.

  The Colombian police had found her. The man was a prominent politician. Jenny was a drug addict. No one believed Madeline’s story. Her sister disappeared, and Madeline had wound up here at San Mateo. But if she had it to do over again, she’d do the same. Her mother had made her promise. With her last breath of life.

  “Take care of your sister, Maddie. She’s not strong like you.”

  Madeline had only been ten, but she’d promised. And she’d kept her word. She sucked in a breath, pulling her thou
ghts from the past. Jenny was safe now. She had to believe that. It was the only thing that kept her going.

  “Anyway, even if it would make a difference, there’s no one to come,” Madeline said. “What about you? You told me you have family. Why aren’t they trying to help you?”

  “They think I’m dead.” Andrés shrugged.

  “How horrible,” she said, shuddering at the thought.

  “Believe me, it’s better this way.” His expression was guarded. “For them. And for me. Sometimes the truth is better left buried.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She nodded as they stopped by the far wall of the yard. “Anyway, we have each other now, right?”

  His smile was gentle. “You have been a good friend. But I’m afraid all good things must come to an end.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “I’m a marked man,” Andrés sighed. “My days are numbered.”

  Madeline dipped her head, tears filling her eyes. She’d heard the shots fired late at night.

  “The only reason I was allowed out here with you is that I was so sick. But I am better now, and that means I will be returned to my original cell. I overheard the guards,” he said. “I’m being moved back. Which means this is my last time in the yard.”

  “No. I won’t accept that.” She shook her head, panic mixing with dread. “Maybe you can pretend to be sick again. Something, anything that might keep you here—with me. I… I can’t make it without you.”

  “Of course you can,” Andrés said. “You’re much stronger than you know.”

  “Señor?” A guard called from the doorway, his machine gun held at the ready. “Ven conmigo ahora.”

  Madeline turned to the guard, then back to Andrés, heart pounding. “What does he want?”

  “He wants me to come with him.” Andrés shrugged. “It’s time.”

  “No. You can’t go. I can’t do this on my own.” She waved at the yard, and the guards.

  “Yes, you can.” His smile was gentle, his teeth white against the dark growth of his beard. “You’re a survivor. Never forget that.”

  The guard moved impatiently, his lips curled in a sneer. “Apurate!”

  “Uno momento,” Andrés said, holding up a hand. “Here, I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket and produced a grimy card. “Take this. It may be of help to you.”

  She took the card, the battered face of the Queen of Hearts staring up at her. “I don’t understand.”

  “If you can get this to the American Embassy, they’ll help you. No questions asked.”

  “But it’s just a playing card.” She shook her head.

  “Trust me,” Andrés said, closing her fingers around the card. “And keep it safe.”

  “But if this truly does have some kind of significance, shouldn’t you be the one using it?”

  “Señor, ahora,” the guard called, his eyes narrowing with impatience.

  Madeline ignored him, her gaze locked on her friend’s. “Andrés, tell me. Why not use it yourself?”

  “Because it is too late for me. I have accepted my fate. And it gives me pleasure to think that perhaps I can be of some service to you. No matter what you have done, you don’t belong here.”

  “Neither do you,” she whispered, her voice fierce now. “Keep the card.”

  “It is yours, my friend. I give it freely. Now I must go.” He shook his head, waving a hand toward the guard. “Use the card to find your way home, Madeline. And then forget this place ever existed.”

  “I can’t do that,” she said. “Because if I did, that would mean forgetting you.”

  Tears slid down her face, the first she’d shed since landing at San Mateo. She wasn’t the type to get sentimental. Andrés was right. She was a survivor. But something about the man had touched her heart. Reached a place she’d thought long dead.

  And now they were taking him away.

  When he reached the guard, Andrés stopped and turned, lifting a hand to say good-bye. Madeline’s heart stuttered to a stop, her breathing labored as she clung to the wall, watching as her friend disappeared into the prison.

  She sank to the ground, her back sliding against the rough-hewn stone of the wall, and opened her fingers, the mottled face of the Queen staring up at her. It was just a card. Unless of course she’d somehow fallen down the rabbit hole. A bubble of hysteria washed through her.

  San Mateo wasn’t Wonderland. And she was no Alice. She was simply a woman who’d run out of options. Life wasn’t fair. It was as simple as that. Angrily, she dried her eyes. There were two kinds of people in this world. The ones who survived. And the ones who did not.

  She’d learned that lesson long ago.

  CHAPTER 1

  Sopron, Hungary—three years later

  He’d had the dream again—his brother alive and well and giving him hell. As always, it had seemed so real. And he’d hated to wake. To lose this last connection with Tucker. But there was no denying reality. His brother was dead. Had been for five long years.

  Drake Flynn sat up, running a hand through his hair, wondering when the pain would stop. Street light filtered into the hotel room, the resulting shadows shifting with movement on the street. The bedside clock glowed an eerie green. Three-thirty-five. Too early to get up and too late to go back to sleep.

  He frowned, wishing that Cassandra was still here. He’d have liked to lose himself in her heat. Forget his losses. Concentrate on the here and now. He couldn’t remember when exactly she’d left. Probably hours ago. She wasn’t big on cohabitation, which, in the beginning, had suited Drake just fine. But now, he wasn’t as certain. They’d been together, off and on, for almost a year, and for the first time since Tucker died, Drake actually felt a stirring of hope.

  Which was goddamned ridiculous when he thought about it. He and Cass might both be operatives in the same game, but they played for different teams. And although their objectives coincided for the moment, he’d been around long enough to know that that could change in an instant.

  He knew that was why she kept him at arm’s length, even agreed with her on some intellectual level. But the ache in his groin wasn’t interested in logical arguments. He needed her. It was as simple as that. And although he was loath to admit it, the need might be turning into something more than just physical.

  Pushing out of bed, he pulled on a pair of sweats and grabbed the room key from the bedside table. No sense in overthinking the issue, and even less point in denying himself unnecessarily. Their operation was technically over. They’d secured the information they’d been sent to retrieve. It was locked safely in the next room. Later today they’d transport it to a safe house, a neutral facility where both their governments could access and analyze the data they’d acquired.

  Score one for the good guys.

  Drake grinned, thinking that now might be a good time for a little R&R. And not just here in the hotel. He wasn’t big on vacations, but with Cass it just might be worth it. Maybe they’d go to an island somewhere. His mind trotted out an image of Cass in the surf, her sun-warmed skin glowing as he lifted himself over her, the water caressing them as he thrust into her tight, wet heat…

  Damn. He shook his head. I have it bad.

  He shoved the key into his pocket and started for the door, but then froze as a sound filtered through his lust-filled reverie. Tensing, every nerve in his body on alert, his mind cleared in an instant. Scooping his gun from the table, he released the safety, his finger on the trigger, and moved from the bedroom into the living room.

  He squinted into the shadows, trying to find the source of the noise he’d heard. Something or someone moved in the foyer, the darkened shape of the closet door taking form as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

  He took a step forward, his muscles tightening in anticipation, and then relaxed as he recognized Cass, his arm dropping harmlessly to his side. “Jesus, darlin’, you sure know how to scare the hell out of a guy.” He grinned, dropping the gun on the bu
reau. “You must have read my mind. I was just wishing you were here.”

  “Drake,” she whispered as she swung around, her full lips parting in surprise, the street light playing on the gun in her hand. “I was hoping you wouldn’t wake up. It certainly would have made this easier.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” His smile faded to a frown as his mind grappled with the meaning of her words.

  “Complications.” She shrugged. “At least I’ve managed to maintain the upper hand.” She waved her gun, the motion adding emphasis to her words. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I actually enjoyed our little interlude.”

  “Interlude?” he repeated. And then he saw the flash drive in her hand. “You’re stealing the drive.”

  “You always were quick on the uptake,” she said, her smile not reaching her eyes.

  “But why?” He lifted his hands in supplication and inched toward the bureau and his gun, thankful that it was hidden in the shadows. If she didn’t know he had a weapon, he might just have a chance. “We’re supposed to be working together. Our countries have an agreement.”

  “So they do,” she acknowledged. “But, you see, I don’t actually work for my government. And the people I do work for would very much prefer that the information on this drive not fall into the wrong hands.”

  “You’re a double agent?” It was a blinding glimpse of the obvious, but he needed to buy himself a little time.

  “More of a plant, I’d say. My work with Mossad gives me access to things I might never have had the opportunity to obtain. And your involvement”—she paused, her fingers tightening on the gun as something that might have been regret played across her face—, “well, let’s just say it was serendipitous in more ways than I can count. But, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.”

  “So you’ve been planning to kill me all along?”

  “Those were my orders,” she sighed. “But I’ll admit you’ve made it more difficult than I’d anticipated.”

  “So don’t do it,” he said, turning slightly so that the gun was just behind him, within reach but out of her view.