feeling the adrenaline,” he said. “You’ll crash when it wears off.” He moved his hand to her neck and brushed her hair aside to rest his fingertips over the pulse beneath her ear. “Relax, Glenna. I’ll keep watch.”
Could he feel the way her heart pounded? she wondered. Did he know how wonderful his skin felt against hers? She had never been comfortable with casual touching. She preferred a handshake to a hug and an air-kiss for a greeting. But somehow she needed to touch him. “Thanks, Rafe.”
“No problem. You need to rest and recover your strength. As soon as you can put more weight on your ankle, we’ll make our move.”
“But—”
“We’ll get out of this. I promise. I’ve been in worse spots. The whole key is you’ve got to keep a clear head.”
“Control,” she murmured. “That’s what I kept telling myself in the plane.”
“You did great, by the way.”
“I didn’t have any choice.”
“There’s always a choice. When I was watching you in the doorway—”
“You were watching me? How? I didn’t see you.”
“I was there, Glenna. Even now, the rest of my team is probably searching the area. Once we get out of here, we’ll find some way to hook up with them and you’ll be back home in…” He paused. “Where are you from?”
“New York,” she replied. “It seems so far away.”
“Sure, but you’ll be back there before you know it. Once you’re debriefed at the base, I’ll see that you’re flown directly—”
“Rafe, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather take a train.”
A low rumble sounded in his chest. “Right.”
Glenna felt a smile tug at her lips. The noise he had made was more of a grunt than a laugh, but she liked the way it had felt against her cheek. She’d like to hear it again. “Rafe?”
“What?”
But whatever she was going to say ended in a gasp as the door to their prison was flung open. Before it had slammed against the wall, Rafe was on his feet, once more placing himself between her and the weapons that were aimed directly at them.
“Dios,” someone muttered. “You are right. He is one ugly bastard.”
Chapter 3
The guards must be blind, Glenna thought as she limped along the shadowed corridor. How else could they call Rafe ugly? Yes, his scars were unpleasant to look at. The network of white-streaked, ravaged skin was evidence of horrible suffering. Puckered gullies sliced his right cheek and gave the corner of his mouth a sardonic twist. In addition, his nose was large and bent in the middle, as if it had been broken at some point in the past.
But couldn’t the guards see the intelligence in his eyes? How could they miss the strength in the angle of his jaw and the pride in the tilt of his head? Didn’t they notice how he ignored the pain his leg must be giving him in order to lend her support as she walked?
She had known men who were as pretty as purebred puppies but who had ugliness in their smiles. What appeared on the surface didn’t matter if what lay underneath was rotten. And she couldn’t believe Rafe was rotten inside. His deeds were constantly proving otherwise.
The corridor branched into three. The guard who had been leading the way in front of them turned to his right. One of the two who were behind them prodded Rafe in the back with his rifle. Rafe stumbled briefly, his nostrils flaring. Whether it was to control his pain or his temper, Glenna couldn’t tell. He tightened his arm around her waist to pull her more firmly to his side, somehow managing to take even more of her weight off her sprained ankle.
She gave him a small smile of gratitude, but he didn’t acknowledge it. His gaze was flicking all around them, as if cataloguing every possible detail of their surroundings.
Glenna decided to follow suit. She realized the floor was now sloping upward. The scent of damp cement that had permeated the room where they had been held wasn’t as sharp here. They must have been in a basement and were now being taken to the ground floor of the house.
It wasn’t any ordinary house, though. She’d known when their captors had brought them in from the truck that this house was large. She hadn’t realized how large until now.
What had Rafe called the hijackers? Garden variety drug smugglers with delusions of grandeur? The drug business must be booming, if they could afford a place like this.
They reached a thick wooden door. One of the guards turned a key in the lock and they were ushered through. Glenna blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the light from a huge crystal chandelier that blazed overhead. They had emerged in the corner of a large foyer. A majestic staircase curved along the far wall, opulent bouquets of tropical flowers rested on delicate antique tables, and all of it was reflected in a marble floor the color of a forest. She had no more than a glimpse of a set of intricate wrought iron entrance doors before the guards pushed them through another door into a dark paneled office.
A slim, dark man in a white suit sat behind a massive mahogany desk. He looked up as they came in. “Ah, my visitors have arrived,” he said into the phone he held. An accent tinted his words with a soft lilt. “We shall continue our negotiations, yes?”
The door slammed behind them. Glenna glanced over her shoulder and stared straight into a gun barrel. She quickly turned her head.
The white-suited man was watching her, his fingers working over the telephone receiver with long, lazy strokes. The glossy mustache on his upper lip lifted in a smile. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I am Leonardo Juarez, your host. And what is your name, delightful lady?”
She didn’t know how to respond to this parody of civility. She remained silent.
Juarez gestured with a flick of his fingers. One of the guards stepped forward and shoved his gun butt into Rafe’s stomach. Rafe made no sound as he jerked with the impact, but Glenna cried out.
“You will answer me next time I ask you a question,” Juarez said, his smooth tone reflecting nothing of the brutality he had instigated. “Now, I would like to know your name.”
“Glenna Hastings,” she blurted out immediately.
“Very good. And the, what is the word, the Frankenstein here. What is your name, sir?”
Rafe held himself perfectly still, his gaze a sliver of steel as it targeted the man behind the desk. “Rafal Marek, master sergeant, serial number seven zero—”
“Yes, yes. Name, rank and serial number. You are Delta Force, I presume?”
“Rafal Marek, master sergeant, serial number—”
“Do not be tiresome. I know the policy of your government. For this situation, they would have sent only their best.” He repeated their names into the phone, then pointed at Glenna and crooked his finger. “Please, come here for a moment, Miss Hastings.”
She
