Steele and Dolphin both ducked, providing cover for the woman with their bodies as they crouched at the bottom of the steps, using the wall to shield them from debris from the impending explosion.
On cue, the blast bellowed over their ears. The ground shook and pieces of metal and stone rained down like a hailstorm.
“Damn, they know how to get it done,” Dolphin muttered. “They may have used a little too much C-4.”
“You think?” Steele said dryly. “Let’s move.”
Coughing from the cloud of dust and decimated concrete, they ran toward the gaping hole in the stone wall surrounding the pool area.
“Hope to fuck the others are in position so we can get the hell out of here,” Steele said in terse tones.
“Cool your jets. We’re on it,” P.J. snapped.
Steele shook his head. Temperamental woman. That much never changed, thank God. She was back where she belonged. He’d never said as much—he wouldn’t offer her that kind of disrespect or lack of confidence in her abilities—but she’d worried him coming off her solo mission of revenge. Besides overcoming multiple injuries, her emotional and psychological trauma had been off the charts. If it had been up to him, he would have grounded her another few months. Only she wasn’t having any of it, and if she was taken out it meant he lost Cole too. No damn way he was going to operate two team members short.
“Glad to have your cranky ass back, Rutherford,” Steele said in an uncharacteristic display of humor.
There was complete radio silence. And then, “Holy shit, did he just crack a joke?” Baker asked aghast.
“Hey, that’s Coletrane now,” Cole complained. “She married me, remember? Pretty damn sure the paperwork says she’s Penelope Jane Coletrane now.”
“I’m going to kick your fucking ass, Cole!” P.J. snapped.
“Penelope Jane?”
Steele couldn’t tell who said what because it all came in three directions followed immediately by hoots of laughter and instant jibes. Jesus Christ. They weren’t out of the woods yet and his entire team was acting like it was a night out in a bar.
“I need everyone to shut the fuck up and make the rendezvous point with the chopper,” Steele snapped. “You can bicker later.”
Steele set a rapid pace but was careful to keep Dolphin and his charge close behind him so he was shielding them both with his body. Baker and Renshaw fell in, closing ranks around Dolphin.
Blood dripped in a steady stream from Baker’s face, splattering the ground and leaving a visible blood trail.
“How serious is it?” Steele barked in Baker’s direction, his gaze never stopping its sweep of the terrain.
“Bleeding like a fucking pig. I have no idea,” Baker bit back. “Can’t feel a damn thing at the moment and my ears are ringing like a son of a bitch.”
“I told his dumb ass to get farther back from the blast zone,” Renshaw muttered. “I didn’t have the time to calculate the strength of the explosives so I went for more than I guessed was necessary.”
Steele swore. Just what he needed. Another out-of-commission team member when he’d only just gotten his team back together after two months of training rookie recruits and being bored out of his mind.
“We’ll be making a pit stop to see Dr. Scofield. She can check you and the woman over. Make sure it’s nothing serious and then we can get the hell home and collect a paycheck.”
Renshaw caught up to Steele and cast a quick glance at Steele’s arm. “And you too, boss man. Looks like you have a boo-boo too.”
Steele’s lips curled in impatience. “It’s fine.”
Renshaw shrugged. “Hey, if you don’t want to get checked out by the pretty doctor, your loss. I’m sure Baker won’t be complaining.”
Steele sent Renshaw a quelling look that instantly silenced his teammate. If the damn girl hadn’t thrown herself in front of a bullet for an asshole who didn’t give a shit about her, they wouldn’t even be stopping in to see Dr. Scofield. And now he had Baker to worry about.
He glanced back at his teammate to see Baker shaking his head, blood sliding down his cheek and onto the ground. He was still trying to get his bearings, obviously, but from what Steele could see, it didn’t look serious. That didn’t mean he didn’t have a concussion or a possible injury that Steele couldn’t see, but he was going to remain optimistic that it was just a few cuts and scrapes and nothing that would require downtime.
Steele had had enough downtime for a lifetime. He was ready to be back in action, preferably with his team at full strength.
They burst through a patch of dense foliage and into a clearing where the helicopter waited. P.J. and Cole were already there. P.J. was wearing a scowl and Cole was grinning. He did that a lot around P.J. now. Where before he’d attempted to maintain strict professionalism between them at all times, now that he’d convinced P.J. to marry him, Cole had dropped any semblance of keeping emotional distance from her during missions. A fact that P.J. still wasn’t taking well.
Steele bit back a smile, knowing if his team saw it, they’d think he’d lost his mind. If nothing else, P.J. and Cole provided plenty of comic relief in otherwise tense situations.
“Let’s load and go,” Cole called. “This bitch is ready to get into the air.”
“I’ll radio the jet pilot, tell him we’ll be delayed. We can land the chopper close to Maren’s village,” Renshaw said as they approached the others.
Steele nodded.
“What the fuck happened to you, Baker?” P.J. demanded.
“Explosives,” Baker muttered as he palmed one ear and pushed like he was trying to dislodge something.
Steele and Dolphin both ducked, providing cover for the woman with their bodies as they crouched at the bottom of the steps, using the wall to shield them from debris from the impending explosion.
On cue, the blast bellowed over their ears. The ground shook and pieces of metal and stone rained down like a hailstorm.
“Damn, they know how to get it done,” Dolphin muttered. “They may have used a little too much C-4.”
“You think?” Steele said dryly. “Let’s move.”
Coughing from the cloud of dust and decimated concrete, they ran toward the gaping hole in the stone wall surrounding the pool area.
“Hope to fuck the others are in position so we can get the hell out of here,” Steele said in terse tones.
“Cool your jets. We’re on it,” P.J. snapped.
Steele shook his head. Temperamental woman. That much never changed, thank God. She was back where she belonged. He’d never said as much—he wouldn’t offer her that kind of disrespect or lack of confidence in her abilities—but she’d worried him coming off her solo mission of revenge. Besides overcoming multiple injuries, her emotional and psychological trauma had been off the charts. If it had been up to him, he would have grounded her another few months. Only she wasn’t having any of it, and if she was taken out it meant he lost Cole too. No damn way he was going to operate two team members short.
“Glad to have your cranky ass back, Rutherford,” Steele said in an uncharacteristic display of humor.
There was complete radio silence. And then, “Holy shit, did he just crack a joke?” Baker asked aghast.
“Hey, that’s Coletrane now,” Cole complained. “She married me, remember? Pretty damn sure the paperwork says she’s Penelope Jane Coletrane now.”
“I’m going to kick your fucking ass, Cole!” P.J. snapped.
“Penelope Jane?”
Steele couldn’t tell who said what because it all came in three directions followed immediately by hoots of laughter and instant jibes. Jesus Christ. They weren’t out of the woods yet and his entire team was acting like it was a night out in a bar.
“I need everyone to shut the fuck up and make the rendezvous point with the chopper,” Steele snapped. “You can bicker later.”
Steele set a rapid pace but was careful to keep Dolphin and his charge close behind him so he was shielding them both with his body. Baker and Renshaw fell in, closing ranks around Dolphin.
Blood dripped in a steady stream from Baker’s face, splattering the ground and leaving a visible blood trail.
“How serious is it?” Steele barked in Baker’s direction, his gaze never stopping its sweep of the terrain.
“Bleeding like a fucking pig. I have no idea,” Baker bit back. “Can’t feel a damn thing at the moment and my ears are ringing like a son of a bitch.”
“I told his dumb ass to get farther back from the blast zone,” Renshaw muttered. “I didn’t have the time to calculate the strength of the explosives so I went for more than I guessed was necessary.”
Steele swore. Just what he needed. Another out-of-commission team member when he’d only just gotten his team back together after two months of training rookie recruits and being bored out of his mind.
“We’ll be making a pit stop to see Dr. Scofield. She can check you and the woman over. Make sure it’s nothing serious and then we can get the hell home and collect a paycheck.”
Renshaw caught up to Steele and cast a quick glance at Steele’s arm. “And you too, boss man. Looks like you have a boo-boo too.”
Steele’s lips curled in impatience. “It’s fine.”
Renshaw shrugged. “Hey, if you don’t want to get checked out by the pretty doctor, your loss. I’m sure Baker won’t be complaining.”
Steele sent Renshaw a quelling look that instantly silenced his teammate. If the damn girl hadn’t thrown herself in front of a bullet for an asshole who didn’t give a shit about her, they wouldn’t even be stopping in to see Dr. Scofield. And now he had Baker to worry about.
He glanced back at his teammate to see Baker shaking his head, blood sliding down his cheek and onto the ground. He was still trying to get his bearings, obviously, but from what Steele could see, it didn’t look serious. That didn’t mean he didn’t have a concussion or a possible injury that Steele couldn’t see, but he was going to remain optimistic that it was just a few cuts and scrapes and nothing that would require downtime.
Steele had had enough downtime for a lifetime. He was ready to be back in action, preferably with his team at full strength.
They burst through a patch of dense foliage and into a clearing where the helicopter waited. P.J. and Cole were already there. P.J. was wearing a scowl and Cole was grinning. He did that a lot around P.J. now. Where before he’d attempted to maintain strict professionalism between them at all times, now that he’d convinced P.J. to marry him, Cole had dropped any semblance of keeping emotional distance from her during missions. A fact that P.J. still wasn’t taking well.
Steele bit back a smile, knowing if his team saw it, they’d think he’d lost his mind. If nothing else, P.J. and Cole provided plenty of comic relief in otherwise tense situations.
“Let’s load and go,” Cole called. “This bitch is ready to get into the air.”
“I’ll radio the jet pilot, tell him we’ll be delayed. We can land the chopper close to Maren’s village,” Renshaw said as they approached the others.
Steele nodded.
“What the fuck happened to you, Baker?” P.J. demanded.
“Explosives,” Baker muttered as he palmed one ear and pushed like he was trying to dislodge something.
“That’ll do it,” P.J. said.
Dolphin went ahead carrying the girl and P.J.’s eyes widened. “Do I even want to know?”
“No,” Steele said tersely. “Load up. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
CHAPTER 2
MAREN Scofield patted the child on the arm after applying gauze over the site where she’d drawn blood and offered a reassuring smile. She nodded when the parents offered their gratitude and gave them instructions to continue her care at home.
When they finally departed the clinic, Maren stretched her aching back and sighed. It had been a long day that had begun at dawn when her first patient had knocked on the door of her cottage. The locals knew where to find her if she wasn’t in her clinic, and none hesitated to seek her out for all manner of illnesses or injuries.
A worker had broken his arm and had come to her cottage. And so her day had begun. A steady stream of patients that had only finally dwindled when the sun had begun to set.
She trudged toward the doorway, eager to make the short walk back to her home, fix herself a hot cup of tea and put her feet up for a while. After making sure the exam rooms and the room containing her portable X-ray and the other expensive supplies were locked—not that it would truly do any good if someone wanted to break in and steal them—she prepared to leave for the day.
And it had happened in the past. She’d had equipment stolen, her clinic trashed. Twice. Thankfully her parents and her brother were supportive of her efforts, and they’d arranged for the donation of new equipment both times.
But then they were all doctors too. They understood her calling. Her drive to provide medical care for underprivileged people in need. Her own parents had traveled all over the world before having her and her brother. For the first few years of her childhood, her parents had opted to live stateside and practice medicine. But when she and Kevin, her older brother, had gotten past the toddler stage, her parents had packed them up and had set off to far-flung places once again to donate their time and services to those in need.
Her childhood had been colorful and never dull.
Nowadays her parents were retired and living in Florida, enjoying shopping and golf. They made the trip to Costa Rica once a year to visit, and she tried to make it to Florida once or twice. They Skyped regularly and emailed weekly. Her brother was currently on assignment in Saudi Arabia. It had been a year since she’d seen him and she missed him.
They were only two years apart and had always been close. Throughout their childhood, they’d never remained in any one place long enough to put down roots and develop close friendships, so they’d bonded and been each other’s best friend.
After her cup of tea she was going to email Kevin and her parents. Maybe it was fatigue or just her present mood, but she was feeling homesick. Some rest and reaching out to her family would fix her up in no time.
As she opened the door to leave the clinic, a dark shape loomed in front of her. She immediately stepped back, her breath in her throat, and her pulse ratcheted up about thirty beats per minute. She started to slam the door, even knowing it was poor protection and would offer no resistance to someone wanting in.
A booted foot shot out, blocking the door.
Panic ripped through her gut and she backed instinctively farther, searching the immediate area for a weapon, something she could use to defend herself.
A tall, barrel-chested man stepped inside, his hands up in a pacifying manner.
“Señorita, I mean you no harm. I come to speak to you on behalf of Javier Mendoza.”
Maren’s eyes narrowed, and she took a cautious step backward. Javier Mendoza was shady at best. The locals feared him but never dared showed him disrespect. He was catered to, appeased and otherwise pacified by everyone, including La Fuerza Pública, the police.
There was only overheard gossip and speculation to fuel her apprehension. When his name was mentioned, it was always in whispered tones as if the people speaking feared that he might appear from thin air.
Maren didn’t know specifics about the man, but she knew enough to decide that if he’d sent a man at this time of night, it couldn’t be good.
“I’m leaving the clinic for the night,” she said, adopting a brisk, professional tone. “It’s been a long day and I’m closed until the morning.”
The man smiled, although it did nothing to ease her worry.
“It’s not a medical matter, señorita. Señor Mendoza would like to invite you to his home for dinner. He knows you’ve worked long hours today and wishes you to partake of his hospitality.”
Though his speech was accented, his English was impeccable. Each word carefully rendered. He looked like a thug but spoke like a complete gentleman. He gave her the absolute creeps.
“Please convey my apologies to Señor Mendoza,” she said smoothly, allowing none of her fear to slide into her voice. “I appreciate his kind invitation, but I’m very tired and would like only to return to my home so that I can rest. My day begins quite early, and as you can see, it’s gone quite late today.”
The errand boy, or rather errand hulk, didn’t look pleased by her refusal, so she quickly added, “Perhaps another time.”
Not that she had any intention in hell of ever honoring that particular offer. But if it would get the smooth-talking Neanderthal out of her clinic so she could go home, she’d say darn near anything.
His lips tightened but to her relief, he began to retreat. At the door, he turned, his gaze finding hers.
“I will inform Señor Mendoza of your refusal.”
Maren went still at the implied threat. Ice trickled into her veins and her respiration increased. She stood frozen as the man disappeared into the night, leaving her alone in the now-silent clinic.
It took her a long moment to recover and get over her paralysis. She walked haltingly to the doorway and stepped outside, glancing nervously left and right, almost as if she expected Mendoza to materialize just as she’d thought the locals did when speaking his name.
She shook her head as she locked up. She was turning into a complete ninny. She’d been in far scarier situations. Africa to name one. Thanks to Sam Kelly and KGI, she’d escaped unscathed, for which her parents and brother were extremely grateful. They’d been largely responsible for her not going back there again. They’d begged her to pick a safer place.
Now she wondered just how much safer Costa Rica was for her.
With a sigh, she began the short walk down the pathway to her cottage, rolling her neck and shoulders to ease the knots in her muscles. The evening air was sultry, damp in her nostrils but filled with the scent of flowers. They bloomed like crazy around the clinic and her cottage, courtesy of the locals who’d adopted her and helped with the upkeep.
She smiled, remembering the women bringing by food for her. Men stopping by to ask if she needed repairs. Many of her patients didn’t have money to pay for her services, not that she’d accept, but they looked for other ways to repay her. They’d accepted her. She was well liked and respected. And until tonight she wouldn’t have thought she had anything to fear.
Mendoza had never paid her an ounce of attention, and she’d been here for four years. What had changed? She would never believe she’d simply escaped his notice until now. He was a man who had his thumb on the pulse of the entire area. He’d likely know everyone and know everything that went on anywhere close to where he resided and did business. Whatever that business was . . .