about to land,” Tracie told Hank.
“We’re still searching for more clues. If we find anything else, I’ll call you on the satellite phone.” Hank rang off.
Rip took his seat across the aisle and buckled his seat belt, his mind not on the information Hank had imparted but on the kiss that had left his head spinning and his pulse hammering. She was such a distraction, he was afraid he’d lose focus when he needed it most.
Turning his back on Tracie, Rip leaned toward the window, staring down at what appeared to be a jungle rushing up at them, when in fact they were plummeting toward the treetops.
The adrenaline coursing through his veins spiked at the speed of their descent. He peered closer as the Citation X circled, dropping toward the canopy, slowing as it approached the ground.
A wide slash opened up in the green carpet below, revealing an expansive field with a magnificent hacienda sprawled across a hilltop, its stucco walls painted a pale terracotta and accented with creamy white trim. The place had a dark terra-cotta tiled roof and richly dark wooden doors. A sparkling pool provided a splash of blue with palm trees lining the tiled deck.
To the north of the house stretched a long, level green field of grass with several wind socks along its length. It appeared to be more of a fancy playing field than a beautifully manicured and level landing field.
The Citation kissed the turf, the pilot reversing the thrust to come to a swift stop on the grass-covered landing strip. From all appearances they’d landed in a tropical paradise.
The peace and tranquility of the lush setting was short-lived. As they taxied to a halt, several topless Jeeps, with machine guns mounted on them, exploded out of the tree line headed straight for the Citation.
The pilot’s voice sounded over the plane’s intercom, “Relax, our host assures us the approaching vehicles are his men coming to greet us and ensure our safety.”
Rip frowned, patting the Glock in his shoulder holster. “They don’t look like the welcoming committee.”
Tracie bit her bottom lip. “I hope they’re on our side. I’d hate to take live fire from one of those guns.” She peered out her window, her brows furrowed.
Even if they’d wanted to, they couldn’t take off again and leave. Not with Hector’s men surrounding their plane with weapons pointed at them. Now that they were in Honduras, they were Hector’s guests, like it or not.
Perhaps a little danger was just what Rip needed to wipe away the aftereffects of that kiss. One thing was certain, it had left an indelible impression on his lips and his libido. Pretending to be a lusty, loving honeymooner wouldn’t be such a burden to bear. Turning off the act at the end of this charade would be an entirely different story.
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