She pushed the incoherent mercenary inside the passenger side door and closed it before he could fall out. Then, furtively glancing over her shoulder, she lifted the bags of weapons and ammunition into the bed of the pickup. At any moment she expected to hear the rat-a-tat of a machine gun and feel bullets ripping through her body. In Monterico, they shot first and asked questions later.
She threw a tarp over the bags and climbed into the cab. Either her mercenary hadn’t noticed that the truck belonged to the regular army, or he didn’t care.
As soon as she closed the door behind herself, he pounced on her.
He kissed her again. His desire hadn’t abated. Instead, it had increased. The cooler outdoor air, which had cleared her head, seemed to have done the same for him. This wasn’t the haphazard kiss of a drunk. This was the kiss of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, and knew how to do it well.
His tongue pressed insistently against her lips until they opened, then it rubbed sleekly against hers. His hands were busy. His caresses kept her gasping with shock and outrage.
“Por favor,” she whispered urgently, slapping his hands away and dodging his mouth.
“Whatsamatter?”
“Mi casa. We go.”
She reached into the pocket of her skirt and produced a key. She crammed it into the ignition and started the truck, trying to ignore the nibbling he was doing on her neck and around her ear. She felt his teeth against her skin. Despite the muggy heat, her arms broke out in goose bumps.
Kerry put the truck in reverse and backed away from the tavern. The ramshackle building seemed to vibrate with raucous laughter and throbbing music. She braced herself for shouting and gunfire, but the truck moved into the street unnoticed.
Kerry was tempted to leave the headlights turned off, but decided against it. It would arouse suspicion for a military truck to drive through the city streets without its headlights on. And, it would be hazardous to drive without lights on the rutted lanes that were likely to be littered with battle debris. So she turned on the headlights. They threw light onto the war-scarred commercial buildings and shuttered housing. Even in the darkness, which was flattering, the capital city was a depressing sight.
Getting out of the city was a problem that Kerry had spent hours mulling over. No one entered or left it without having to drive through a military checkpoint. After running several reconnaissance missions, Kerry had selected the gate she would drive through now. It was one of the busiest checkpoints. Had she picked one of the less-traveled roads, the guards might be more thorough. They would more than likely stop and search a military truck driven by a woman. At the busy gate she had chosen, she would probably get no more than a cursory inspection. At least, that’s what she was hoping for.
She mentally went over her plan and what she intended to say one more time.
However, it was difficult to concentrate on anything. She hadn’t picked up a belligerent drunk or a funny drunk. She had picked up an amorous drunk. Between mutterings about not having much time, he planted ardent kisses on her neck and chest.
She nearly steered the truck off the road when he slipped his hand under her skirt and between her knees. There was no way she could continue to work the clutch and accelerator with her knees clamped together. She had no choice but to allow his strong fingers to curl around the lower portion of her thigh and tease the smooth underside of her knee.
She had almost adjusted to that when his hand began to reach higher. Each touch was a jolt to her system. The floor of her stomach dropped away, and she closed her eyes for a fraction of a second when he lightly squeezed a handful of her inner thigh. The skirt of her dress inched higher. Most of it was already bunched up in her lap.
“Señor, por favor.” She tried to work her leg free of his questing hand.
He muttered something that sounded like “Need a woman,” but Kerry wasn’t sure. Knowing that they were only a few blocks from the crucial checkpoint, she pulled the truck over to the side of the road and let it idle.
“Please, señor, put this on.” She reached beneath the seat where she had previously stowed the jacket and cap that she had found lying on the seat of the truck.
He didn’t seem to notice her improved English or the absence of an accent, but he blinked at her stupidly. “Huh?”
She draped the military jacket over his shoulders. The jacket didn’t quite accommodate their breadth, but all she needed for the guard to see was the officer’s rank. The badge had been ineptly embroidered onto the sleeve, which Kerry made certain was visible. She plopped the cap down onto the mercenary’s head and adjusted it, while he just as earnestly tried to lower the shoulder straps of her dress.
“Good grief,” she muttered in disgust as she pulled them back up onto her shoulders, “you’re an animal.” Then she remembered that she was supposed to be a whore accustomed to being manhandled. She laid her hand against his whiskered cheek and smiled in a manner that she hoped was beguiling and full of lewd promise. In melodious Spanish she told him he was a lecherous pig, but made the insult sound like a lover’s enticement.
Engaging the gears of the truck again, she drove the remaining blocks to the checkpoint.
There were two cars ahead of her. The driver of the first was arguing with the guard. Good. He would welcome a military truck because there would be no hassle.
“Whas goin’ on?”
The mercenary raised his head and blinked, trying to see through the dirty windshield, upon which a thousand insects had given their lives. Patting his head back into place on her shoulder, Kerry told him to leave everything to her, that they were almost there. His head lolled against her shoulder as she drove the truck up to the barricade.
The guard, no older than sixteen, sauntered toward the driver’s side and shone a flashlight directly into her face. She forced herself to smile. “Buenos noches.” She lowered her voice to a sexy, husky pitch.
“Buenos noches,” the guard responded suspiciously. “What’s wrong with the captain?”
She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “He had too much to drink. Poor man. He’s a brave soldier, but he is defeated by a bottle.”
“Where are you taking him?”