the man.
The good thing with big ones was that they usually tired faster, since they had to move all that weight. Paulo had never heard of that rule, it seemed. He rolled right over Jase, making his ribs crack and pop under the pressure. But Jase rose and got the upper hand at last, got the man in a headlock and immobilized him. They were both bleeding and breathing hard, nearly choking on the dust-filled air they desperately tried to suck in.
Jase looked over his shoulder at the Don just as the boss nodded to one of his lieutenants, who was holding a gun on Paulo.
The bullet grazed Jase’s cheek on its way to slamming into his opponent’s head.
He dropped the suddenly limp body to the ground, then pushed to his feet, trying to avoid the growing pool of blood. He looked back at the Don, hoping the man would at least ask his name. But the boss was already walking away.
He didn’t give his men orders to clean up the mess; he simply expected it to be done. Two of them were already grabbing Paulo by the feet to drag him away.
A third man, Roberto, clapped Jase on the shoulder. “Want to come over to the fire for some whiskey?”
He was one of the Don’s inner circle, not a bad friend to make. But not tonight. Jase couldn’t afford to anger his immediate boss by making him wait too long.
“Lucas sent me up for Alejandro. I better find him and get him back to the kitchen,” he told the man, and limped back the way he came.
If Alejandro was up this way, he would have come out for the fight. And if he wasn’t at the packaging building, he was most likely either with the dogs or the mules.
Jase passed by the main house again, giving it another careful look as he walked. He would come up in the morning and ask for Paulo’s job. He’d be turned down with a scoff, but all he needed was an excuse to get inside, see exactly where the office was located.
The woman stood on the balcony in the same spot as before. Something glinted on her face. Sure looked like tears. As the wind changed, he could hear her soft whisper.
“Dear God, please help me away from this place before he kills me. I beg you, please, please send someone to save me.” She had a slight Texas accent.
Her words were so filled with desperation they twisted even his stone-cold heart. He kept his gaze on her. So they were both Texans. He told himself that didn’t mean they had any sort of connection.
She was the spoiled girlfriend of a murderous criminal, probably upset because she didn’t get as many diamonds this week as she’d expected. Sounded like she’d had a fight with Don Pedro earlier. None of Jase’s business.
Suddenly she turned his way and peered into the shadows, alarm ringing in her voice as she asked, “Who’s there?”
He stepped forward. “Sorry if I bothered you. I’m Jase. I’m looking for one of the men.”
She shrunk back.
And he realized what he must look like, fresh from a fight, with blood on his shirt and face, violence still hanging around him in the air. “Sorry.” He turned to go.
“Wait,” she called after him. “Are you the one who brought that little boy in?”
He raised his gaze back to her. Her large eyes watched him carefully from above a straight, pert nose.
“Consuela from the kitchen told me,” she said.
He swore silently. Consuela talked too much. “Scrawny little thing.” He gave a dismissive gesture. “I don’t think we’ll see much work out of him. He might not even make it.”
Her face turned even sadder, if possible, the corners of her full lips turning down. She nodded and walked inside the house without looking at him again.
She wasn’t what he’d expected from the Don’s girlfriend. Although Jase could only see her from the chest up—the wooden railing hid the rest—she looked more like a schoolteacher than a Brazilian photo model, which was Don Pedro’s usual entertainment, if the rumors around camp were true.
This one looked wholesome and fragile, completely inappropriate for the Don. How in hell did someone like her find her way to a place like this?
Clearly a mistake. A mistake she was rapidly realizing, judging by her whispered prayer. Well, he couldn’t help her with her troubles. His hands were plenty full already. She’d be nothing but a distraction. And a distracted undercover operative was a dead undercover operative.
He moved on. Dogs barked in their enclosures. The river rushed on in the distance. He didn’t take a dozen steps before Alejandro materialized from the darkness.
The man’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What are you doing here?”
“Lucas sent me to find you.”
“You shouldn’t be hanging around the house.” His voice dripped with disapproval. He puffed his chest out as if he wasn’t just another lackey, one measly step above Jase.
“I thought you might have gone up to play cards with the guys in packing.”
“Shot the dice with the idiots at the stables.” His grim look said he didn’t win. “Jorge got back. Says he saw another burned village to the south. Cristobal is definitely heading this way.”
Which meant there would be a major battle in a couple of days.
“We’ll take care of him.” Jase squared his shoulders in a macho display for Alejandro’s sake. But his mind was on the boy. He needed to get Mochi out of here at the first opportunity.
He tried not to think of the crying woman whose sad eyes haunted him.
Chapter Two
The woman on the balcony came to him in his sleep. Naked. The dark jungle whispered its mysterious song around them. Silver moonlight splashed on her skin, her long hair tumbling to her waist.
Jase’s body turned hard with need, but for some reason he couldn’t reach for her. Then he saw at last what held him back. Thorny vines tied him to a tree. He watched, unable to move, as a black jaguar stole forward from the bushes and crouched, getting ready to lunge at the woman. Blood glistened on the animal’s muzzle. And as Jase looked around, he could see a small foot sticking out from under the bush where the jaguar had come from. Mochi.
He woke to shouting outside the barracks, cold sweat covering his body. Sunlight filtered through the burlap curtains. Lucas rushed in, an extra belt of bullets swung over his shoulder, a scowl on his face.
“What is it?” Jase grabbed his gun first, his shirt second.
“We’re preparing for battle. Cristobal sent a messenger. He demands unconditional surrender.”
A glance out the window revealed a man lying in the dust on his back behind one of the jeeps. A familiar knife protruded from his throat, the very one that Jase had traded for Mochi. Alejandro was always eager to score points.
“And that would be the messenger?”
Lucas
