If he had, Soledad knew nothing about it, or she’d be crowing in triumph. There was still a chance she might survive this clusterfuck her father and brother had thrust her into, though the chances were looking slim. She just had to stall for time.
The deck was narrow—just wide enough for a table and chair, and the drop over the side was terrifying even to a woman with no fear of heights. Then again, the height wasn’t the problem; it was the landing. She sat in the chair and began keying in random numbers, her back to Soledad, her attention on the shiny screen.
She heard the door open behind in the living room, and she glanced up to see one of the guards return before she turned back to the phone, her feet drawn up and resting against the low railing. Whoever had designed this house had no sense of safety.
“The password is beastmaster.”
She froze at the sound of Ryder’s voice, then at the words. She turned to find him standing in the middle of the room, pointing a gun on Soledad. The guard lay at his feet, and Soledad had a gun trained on Ryder.
Jenny jumped up, shoving open the sliding glass door, about to run to him, when common sense stopped her. “Stay there, Parker!” he snapped.
“How sweet,” Soledad said. “I thought she looked particularly well fucked this morning, though I don’t understand how you happened to get in and out, if you’ll excuse the pun, so easily. However, I’m afraid your girlfriend miscalculated. You can shoot me, but not before I put a bullet in her head.”
Ryder didn’t even glance at her. “That’s not my concern. My job here is simple—retrieve the cell phone and terminate the South American head of the trafficking cartel.”
“Which would be me,” Soledad said smoothly, seemingly not disturbed by his words.
“Which would be you,” he agreed.
“And you are not concerned about your girlfriend? Americans are so squeamish about collateral damage. Do you really want to see her head blown apart in front of you?”
“You’re holding a twenty-two. It won’t blow apart her brain,” he said in a laconic voice.
“She’ll still be just as dead.”
He wasn’t even looking at her—it was as if they were in the midst of an academic argument, not talking of life and death. “You underestimate my resolve. And you’d be wise not to think of me as American. I’m Committee.”
Soledad’s smug smile faded slightly. “Isn’t this what they call a standoff, then?” she said in her pure voice. “Put the gun down, Mr. Ryder, or your girlfriend is dead.”
“Now why would I do that?”
“Because if I kill your girlfriend you’ll be forced to kill me, and I won’t be able to answer any of the thousand questions you must have,” she cooed.
“I don’t mind,” said Ryder, and his gun spat fire at the same moment Soledad’s did.
It was a blur of noise and light and action, as Jenny felt Ryder crash into her, slamming her against the decking as his body jerked, but everything seemed to move in slow motion—the repetitive gunfire, Ryder diving in front of her, the phone falling onto the deck and skittering toward the end, and Soledad sprawling onto the white carpet, an expression of disbelief on her innocent face as bullets pierced the designer suit and blood began to spread outward, soaking into the rug.
And then time flipped back to normal, as Ryder rolled off her and went straight to Soledad’s limp body, feeling for a pulse.
Jenny grabbed the phone and shoved it in her pocket before she pulled herself upright, using the railing to do so. She looked over the edge with a shudder before pushing away. “Is she dead?” she asked in a raw voice.
Soledad’s eyes were wide and staring. “Close enough,” he said, not turning to look back at her. “You in one piece?”
“Your concern for my well-being warms my heart,” she snapped.
“Don’t be a baby. Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Then stay put. I’m going to find us a vehicle and we’re getting the hell out of here.”
“And what if she’d managed to shoot me? Would you be taking me with you?”
“Depends on how badly you were injured,” he said callously. “Stay put. There’s at least one more guard roaming around. If you need to throw up then throw up here. I don’t want you wandering around this place—there may be booby traps.”
Jenny immediately swallowed her incipient bile. How did he know her that well? “I’m fine,” she said icily.
“Of course you are. You gonna give me the phone?”