“And why not?”
“Because either way, Harrison was still the head of that project, and our government couldn’t afford to lose him. They probably thought, hey, we’ll send in a team to see what’s going on and try to bring the doc home if he’s alive. Tell them it’s an extraction and then deal with shutting their mouths once they come home.” Her mouth set in a grim line. “The second your team was exposed to that village, someone was already planning on making sure you couldn’t talk, regardless of whether you figured out the truth while you were there.”
It made sense. It also grated, how levelheaded Eva was about this all, and how quickly he’d confided in her when he shouldn’t be saying a damn word to her.
“What exactly does Hector expect you to do for him?” she suddenly asked, sounding uneasy.
“Help him take down his government.”
Her jaw fell open. “Are you serious?”
“Yep. He wants me to go back to the States and expose what happened in Corazón. He’ll offer me money and protection, and give me a fleet of guards if necessary, as long as I take this all the way to White House.”
Now she laughed. “And do what?”
“He wants the American alliance with his country severed. He wants our troops and our relief workers and our doctors out of San Marquez.”
“That’s...ambitious.”
Tate rolled his eyes. “Apparently I’m the man to make that happen. His reasoning is that if we threaten to expose that the U.S. government is actively developing biological weapons while telling the world it isn’t, they’d happily cut ties with San Marquez in order to cover that up.”
“Does he not know our policy of not negotiating with terrorists?”
“I didn’t say his reasoning made sense.”
Sense? It suddenly occurred to him that maybe what didn’t make sense was the way he was sitting here and chatting with Eva as if nothing had changed between them.
The absurdity of his actions settled over him like a black cloud, but what infuriated him even more was the awareness that picking Eva’s brain had become so natural he didn’t even question it anymore. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to enjoy having her around, talking to her, bouncing ideas off her, sharing his frustration about that mission-gone-awry that he still didn’t understand. Somehow, this woman had sneaked through his defenses, and that pissed him off beyond belief.
“Don’t shut down on me.”
Her strained voice jerked him back to the present. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re about to shut down. I can see it in your eyes.” She sighed. “For a moment you forgot that I lied, and you were talking to me like everything was normal, but now you’re going to shut down again and pretend I don’t matter to you.”
“News flash, sweetheart—you don’t.” He didn’t regret the callous words, not even when he saw the flash of pain in her eyes.
Pain that quickly transformed into steely fortitude. “You’re lying,” she retorted. “You care about me. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have freaked out at the thought of putting me in harm’s way, or tried so hard to make me stay behind outside the tunnel.”
“Maybe I didn’t want you in my way—did you ever think of that?”
“You care about me,” she repeated. “You like me and you respect me and you wouldn’t be so angry with me right now if I didn’t matter to you. I’m sure people lie to you all the time, Tate—do you react this way every time it happens? I doubt it.”
“Eva—”
“Tell me I matter,” she interrupted. “Stop patronizing me and tell me I matter to you, damn it.”
You matter.
“You don’t” was what he said, and as a result, her beautiful face collapsed. “Don’t fool yourself, Eva. The only thing between us was sex. No relationship, no hope for a future. It was just sex.”
“Just sex,” she echoed, her voice laced with sadness.
“That’s right. All I ever wanted from you was your body. I never made any promises or led you on. I never made you think it would be all rainbows and sunshine and happily-ever-after for us.”
But a part of him had secretly wondered if it was possible, hadn’t it?
That cold, embarrassing truth burned a hole in his gut. Christ, he had considered it. A lot, in fact, during those two days they’d been stuck in the cave. Holding Eva, talking to her, laughing with her—for a few brief moments, he’d gotten caught up in the foolish notion that he and Eva might be able to keep this going after Cruz was dead.
But who the hell was he kidding? He knew better than that. Getting close to people only resulted in heartache. And Eva in particular? The woman was no good for him. She was nine years younger, and she had a kid. Make that Cruz’s kid, for Chrissake.
“You never made me any promises,” she agreed. “I didn’t make any, either. But I’m promising you something right now—I didn’t lie because of some secret plot to lure you out of hiding or to bring you to Hector, or whatever other suspicions are running through your head. I lied because I was scared. I needed you, and I was scared you wouldn’t help me if you knew the truth about my relationship with Hector.”
She slid up to her feet and crossed the room, kneeling before him once more. When her hands came out to cup his chin, Tate stiffened, but he didn’t have the strength to push her away.
“Maybe I don’t matter to you, but you matter to me,” she said fiercely. “You know why I fought to confront Hector with you? It wasn’t because I didn’t trust that you’d kill him, it was because I didn’t want you to get hurt. I wanted to have your back just in case you ran into trouble—because I care about you and because the thought of losing you was too much to bear.”
He swallowed, hoping she couldn’t see the rapid hammering of his pulse in his throat.
“I trust you, Tate, and I care about you. All this time we’ve spent together has taught me that not all men are like Hector. You’ve treated me like an equal on this entire journey. And yeah, you’re ruthless and grumpy and cold at times, but you’re also sweet and tender and funny—” her breath caught “—and I’m falling for you.”
As her confession hung in the musty air, it took several moments for it to register in Tate’s brain. When he absorbed what she’d said, his initial reaction was unexpected—his heart did a pathetic flip, his breath hitched the slightest bit, and he experienced a hot, unfamiliar emotion that was akin to...joy?
Just as quickly, that feeling faded, replaced by something equally hot but this time familiar: anger. Directed at Eva. Directed at himself.
Especially at himself, because what the hell was the matter with him? He shouldn’t feel joy over the fact that this woman might love him. He didn’t want or need her love.
Suddenly he couldn’t even look at her. His body was overcome by a heap of volatile emotions he couldn’t define, and his anger intensified, so powerful he could swear he felt the walls move from the force of it.
It wasn’t until he saw the look of shock and fear on Eva’s face that he realized his fury wasn’t manifesting itself in this room.
The bunker was under attack.
As a deafening boom reverberated in the air, the walls literally shuddered, pieces of cement breaking off from the ceiling and fluttering down to the floor like confetti.
Tate shot to his feet just as he heard a second blast. Muffled, as if it had happened far above them. Without questioning his actions, he launched himself on Eva and shielded her with his body, keeping his head down as he anticipated another explosion.
It didn’t come. Other than a slight ringing in his ears and Eva’s shallow breathing, everything had gone silent.
He awkwardly shifted his weight, annoyed that his first instinct in the face of danger had been to protect Eva, but before he could question the impulse, gunfire erupted beyond the door. There was a startled cry, another gunshot, and then footsteps approached the room.
Just as the door swung open, Tate stood up and pushed Eva behind
him.
And came face-to-face with a pair of familiar gray eyes.
“Are you frickin’ kidding me?” he demanded.
Sebastian Stone flashed a rogue grin. “Mornin’, Captain. Fancy meeting you here.”
* * *
Eva blinked a few times to make sure that was actually Sebastian standing there in the doorway. Short blond hair, mocking gray eyes, rugged features. Yep, that was him. He was the last person she’d expected to walk in, but boy, was she happy to see his face.
She had no clue what was going on beyond this room, but it didn’t sound pretty. Gunshots, explosions, tremors. Was someone waging a small war out there?
“What the hell are you doing here?” Tate barked, scowling at the sandy-haired man who’d waltzed in as if he owned the place.
In his dirt-streaked T-shirt, army fatigues and military-issued boots, with an assault rifle in his hands, Sebastian looked every bit the warrior he was. Only the smirk on his face seemed out of place.
“Saving your ass,” he replied. “So come on, let’s not waste time. Cruz’s sorry excuses for soldiers are up there scrambling to figure out why they’re under attack, but they won’t stay confused for long.”
“What exactly did you do?” Tate asked, as Sebastian tossed him the rifle.
The other man pulled a handgun from his waistband and cocked the weapon. “I blew up the entrance, and most of their vehicles.”
Eva didn’t miss the amusement on Tate’s face. “How’d you swing that?” he asked.
“Note to Tate—don’t leave a rocket launcher lying around in the shrubs,” Sebastian replied with the roll of his eyes. “Someone else might come across it and blow up a rebel leader’s secret lair.”
Tate snorted.
“Those explosives you set all over the perimeter didn’t hurt, either,” Sebastian added. He grinned and held up a small silver device that Eva guessed to be a detonator. “I figured you wouldn’t mind if I hijacked your bombs.”
“Not at all,” Tate said solemnly. He adjusted his grip on the rifle. “Come on. Let’s beat it.”
Sebastian’s gray eyes flicked in Eva’s direction. “She coming with us?”
Tate hesitated.
Eva’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.
He’d hesitated.
He’d actually hesitated.
But before she could fully absorb the implications behind that one little beat of silence, Tate was already nodding. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “She’s coming with us.”
Without checking to see if she was following, the two men bounded out the door, leaving Eva to tail after them while continuing to battle that frigid burst of clarity.
Her heart felt as if someone had pummeled it with a baseball bat, and the hot tears stinging her eyes made her vision go cloudy. She was vaguely aware of two dead rebels sprawled on the corridor floor. Sebastian’s doing, most likely.
They moved at a breakneck speed, navigating hallways that were surprisingly quiet and threat free. Why weren’t rebels popping out and trying to shoot them? Where was Hector? He’d had a camera in that room, for Pete’s sake. He had to know that she and Tate had escaped, so where the hell was he?
“There’s just one more thing I need to do before we blow this joint.”
Tate’s low voice jerked her from her troubled thoughts.
“Already way ahead of you,” Sebastian said, as they turned another corner.
“Obviously not, or you’d know we have to go this way,” Tate replied, his green eyes flashing with irritation as he took a step back toward the opposite end of the hall.
Sebastian grinned. “Just trust me. We’re going this way.”
Reluctance creased Tate’s features, just for a moment, but then he nodded and allowed the other man to take the lead.
Eva tried not to feel upset in the face of Tate’s easy acceptance of Sebastian’s “trust me.” It shouldn’t have bothered her, or hurt her, that he trusted the other man. After all, they’d known each for years.
Yet it did hurt, how readily he trusted Sebastian when he’d viewed her with nothing but distrust since the day they’d met—even after spending hours naked in each other’s arms.
And he’d hesitated when Sebastian asked whether to take her with them.
Ignoring the pain squeezing her heart like a boa constrictor, she forced herself to match the men’s swift pace. The cinder-block walls whizzed past; overhead lights hummed and flickered as they raced through the bunker toward the room that led to the tunnel entrance.
Five minutes later, they’d ducked down the hatch and were hurrying toward the end of the tunnel, and when they finally emerged from the second hatch, Eva blinked wildly as bright light assaulted her. They’d entered the bunker when it was still dark out, but now the sun sat high in the morning sky, shining down and marring her vision with sunspots.
When the scent of smoke wafted toward them, she turned her head and saw thick black plumes rising from the other side of the rock face. Muffled shouts could be heard in the distance. Then Sebastian clicked the silver device in his hand, and suddenly the ground beneath their feet shook. Another column of smoke swiftly rose from beyond one of the craggy hills.
“This way,” Sebastian said, leading them in the direction of a rock-strewn slope a couple of yards away.
Eva noticed Tate frowning as they trailed after the other man. Her own brows knit together, then soared when she spotted the dead man lying at the top of the slope. The man was sprawled on his back, and the front of his brown ULF uniform boasted a dark stain. Blood.
She’d barely absorbed the sight when she noticed the Jeep parked ten feet away. And the other two bodies. The pools of blood spreading beneath the rebels’ heads made her blanch.
“You’ve been busy,” Tate murmured.
Sebastian shrugged. “Like I said, saving your ass. Come on. Got a surprise for you.”
Eva felt unbelievably uneasy as Sebastian gestured to the Jeep. She hung back, unsure she wanted to see this “surprise.” Instead, she watched as the two men stalked off, with Sebastian in the lead. The Jeep’s top was down, so she could still see both men as they rounded the vehicle.
Tate’s green eyes dropped to the ground, focusing on something out of her line of vision, and when she heard him mutter a savage curse laced with satisfaction, Eva knew exactly what was back there.
Swallowing hard, she staggered toward the Jeep and peered around it.
Lying on the dirt, tied up and gagged, was the father of her child.
Chapter 17
The bittersweet taste of satisfaction filled Eva’s mouth as she stared at Hector’s immobilized figure. He wasn’t blindfolded, and his eyes snapped open when she walked up, oozing with betrayal as they locked with hers. But he didn’t make a single sound. He just stared at her with those burning eyes, his face an angry accusation.
“Caught him trying to flee after I blew up the entrance,” Sebastian explained with a smirk. “Figured you’d want the honor of ridding the earth of this bastard.”
For a second, Eva thought he was talking to her, but when Tate let out a growl of approval, she realized the comment had been directed elsewhere.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Sebastian added, taking a step back. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
Eva scarcely noticed the man walk away. She was too focused on Hector’s outraged black eyes and Tate’s strained profile.
Her hands started to shake, her heart beating irregularly as she waited for Tate to do something. Anything. And yet when he finally made a move, slowly lifting his rifle, she nearly yelled, “Stop!”
Could she really stand here and let him kill a man in cold blood?
This is the man who terrorized you!
The internal reminder didn’t ease the sudden tightness of her throat.
“I would have preferred to end it with a knife,” Tate said in a calm voice, his green eyes fixed on Hector, “but you disarmed me back there, so I’m afraid I’ll have to
make do with this.” He waved the barrel from side to side, just in case Hector hadn’t noticed the rifle pointed at him.
Eva’s entire body went cold with fear and indecision. “Tate, maybe—”
“Maybe what?” he cut in. “Maybe I should spare this bastard’s life?”
She gulped down the lump wedged in her throat. “I...I don’t know.”
“I should have known you didn’t have the stomach for this. Go wait with Sebastian, Eva. You shouldn’t be here.”
He was right. She shouldn’t be. She also shouldn’t stand by and watch him murder an unarmed man, yet she couldn’t move a muscle. She was frozen. Numb. Unable to think clearly.
“I want to ask him something first,” she blurted out.
Irritation flickered in Tate’s gaze. He lowered the rifle. “Is that really necessary? Everything he’ll tell you will be a lie.”
“I don’t care.” She stubbornly lifted her chin. “I want to ask him anyway.”
She failed to add that whatever she did next depended on the answer Hector gave her. Wholly depended on it, in fact.
Because she could fight Tate. She could demand he spare Hector. She could throw herself in front of that rifle if need be, as long as it meant living the rest of her life with a clean conscience, one that didn’t harbor the burden of knowing she was a murderer.
The irony didn’t escape her. She’d asked Tate to kill Hector for her. She’d brought him here for that exact purpose, and now that the opportunity was here, now that the only thing standing between herself and her freedom was Hector, she couldn’t in good conscience let it happen.
“Take off his gag,” she said softly.
With a sigh, Tate bent down and grabbed Hector by the armpits, yanking the man up into a sitting position, with his back against the rear wheel of the Jeep and his bound wrists resting in his lap.