Chapter Eighteen

At the sound of the first shots Faith flinched and nearly lost her balance, but she righted herself quickly, still gripping the gun. From her perch she had a pretty good view of the central part of the camp. She saw the two men heading for the tent pitch forward and fall. Suddenly everyone was running around like crazed chickens. Four men ran from one of the cabins carrying what looked to her like enormous weapons. From the perimeter she heard the sounds of rapid-fire rifles spraying the trees and bushes.

The jungle came alive at the disruption. Leaves rustled in trees and plants as birds of every color flew into the air, squeaking and squawking, flapping their wings in a desperate bid to escape the disturbance. Howler monkeys screeched, their ear-splitting cries piercing notes above the splat of bullets. Faith could hear the sounds of animals crashing through the underbrush as they raced for protection.

A thin, dark man in the center of the camp was screaming at everyone in Spanish, shouting orders to the men, who began indiscriminately spraying the area with bullets. A man dressed in gray slacks and darker gray shirt, an anomaly compared with the jungle attire the others wore, ran from the far side of the camp toward the clearing at the other side, where a helicopter stood waiting. He waved his hand in a circling motion and the rotors began their preliminary whine.

Faith couldn’t spot any of the Phoenix men, but she knew they were there by the constant chatter of their guns. She focused on the tent where she was sure Mark was being held.

Hold on, Mark. We’re here. We’re here.

As the man in gray slacks approached the helicopter at a dead run, Faith heard the whistling sound of what she later learned was a rocket-propelled grenade, and the ’copter exploded in a bright fireball. The man in gray fell back, pushed to the ground by the force of the explosion.

“Oh, my God,” Faith screamed, forgetting the order for silence in the shock of the explosion.

“La senora!”

She heard the voice from below her and looked down to see a man raising his rifle toward her. She reacted automatically, barely taking time to think, all those hours on the range paying off. Before the man could fire she aimed the Glock at him and emptied the clip into him. He fell back, his face and chest covered in blood, his finger tightening on the trigger one last time in death, the rifle spraying bullets into the air.

Her heart was racing so fast she was sure it would explode any minute.

Think of him as a paper target. Don’t think of him as a person.

But she suddenly remembered her promise—I’ll get you out even if I have to kill someone. She hadn’t expected it to come to that, but she realized with a shock that she’d do it again if need be.

Suddenly Mike was there, giving her a reassuring smile. “Good girl. You’re doing great. Just hang on a little longer, okay? And be sure you put that second clip in the gun. ”

When he heard the click of the clip jamming home, he moved away from her toward the camp.

Faith, frozen in her position, trying to make herself breathe, saw bodies everywhere. Only two men were left alive now, the man in gray and the one who’d shouted orders earlier. The latter ran for the tent and moments later Faith felt her heart clench as he dragged Mark into the clearing, a knife at his throat.

She nearly cried out at Mark’s condition—filthy, covered in mud, dried blood everywhere on his body, his face twisted in pain. Before she could stop herself she climbed down from the tree and raced toward the open space. At the edge of the clearing a hand grabbed her and dragged her back.

Troy pulled her next to him and shook his head. “Stay here. It’s all right.”

All right? How could it be all right? They’d come all this way to rescue Mark and now he was about to be killed right in front of her.

“I have your captain,” the man called. “Let me leave here in my vehicle, or I will slit his throat.”

The man in gray had moved to stand next to him, a gun in his hand. “I’ll shoot the first person who tries to walk in here,” he warned.

Faith tried to tug free of Troy’s grip but his fingers were like steal. He shook his head again. “It will be all right,” he mouthed. “I promise.”

In the next instant a shot split the air, and Escobedo’s head exploded like a ripe tomato. He fell back, one arm still holding Mark, but the knife hand thankfully flopped to the side.

“The next one’s for you, Lobo,” a voice called out, and in seconds the Wolf was nothing more than a pile of gray material next to Escobedo.

Now Troy released Faith and she raced toward the clearing, where Dan was already lifting Mark from Escobedo’s grip and stretching him out on the ground. Faith threw herself onto him, ignoring his injuries, ignoring the blood and dirt, ignoring everything except the fact that this man was alive . . . and in her arms. Still breathing. Still here.

“Hi, Tidbit.” His words were edged with pain but his mouth tried to turn up in a smile.

“Hi,” she sobbed. “F-fancy meeting you in a place like this.”

Behind her she heard Dan chuckle, then he reached down to lift her up. “We need to get out of here, Faith. And we need to get Mark on the litter. Come on.”

Behind her she heard Mike call for Ed to bring in the helicopter and, as it landed, Rick came running from wherever he’d been, carrying his sniper rifle. She knew he’d been the one to fire the last two deadly shots, and she couldn’t find words to thank him. He began moving around the camp, leaving something every place he stopped, Mike following behind him with a roll of what looked like heavy twine.

“Hang on a little longer, buddy,” Troy said, as he and Mike strapped Mark into the litter from the bird.

As Ed landed, Faith saw a member of Escobedo’s group still alive, scrambling out of the foliage where he’d been hidden.

“Grab him,” she shouted, then froze as Dan moved forward, hand extended to the man.

“That’s Alex,” Rick said softly. “The inside man. It’s a wonder they didn’t figure it out and kill him.”

Then they were all on board, the litter locked down, Troy on one side already giving Mark a shot for the pain and beginning the arduous process of cleaning his wounds. Faith sat on the other side, gripping his hand, tears still streaming down her face. The rotors whined, dust kicked up around them, and they lifted off. They were maybe five hundred feet above the ground when Rick depressed a button on the tiny mechanism in his hand and the entire camp exploded.

Faith looked over at him, eyebrows raised.

“Just a little precaution,” he told her. “Better for them to all just disappear rather than have someone find their bodies. This way we can report a clean kill.” He grinned at her. “By the way, nice shooting back there.”

“Thanks,” she told him, in a shaky voice. “I hope I don’t have to do it again any time soon.”

His face turned serious. “You’ll have a reaction to this when everything settles down and the adrenaline rush is gone. Try not to waste too much time on it. Think of it as taking out the garbage.”

“I-I’ll try. And thanks.” She took in a deep breath and let it out.

“Tidbit?” Mark’s words were slurring from the effects of the medication.

“Right here.” She squeezed his hand.

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.” Tears were flooding her cheeks again.

His eyes closed, and Faith looked up at Troy, frightened.

“He’s fine,” he assured her. “Just knocked out from the pain meds. He’s hot as a pistol from fever. I think all his wounds are infected. I’m going to give him massive antibiotics and then finish cleaning him up. It’s better if he’s asleep.”

“Okay.” She lifted Mark’s hand to her lips and kissed his fingers, then turned to the other men. “I don’t know how to thank you all. I mean, for doing this.”

Rick smiled. “Just a walk in the park, Faith. Happy to do it. But you tell that big lug when he wakes up we don’t plan on having to do it again.”

“I will.”

She heard Dan on the radio talking to the men at the cabin, then making a call to someone else to give a terse report on what happened.

“All set,” he told everyone over the noise of the rotors. “There are about to be a couple of unhappy people in Washington.”

They set down briefly at the edge of Iquitos where two men were waiting for Alex.

“Escobedo had his sister,” Rick explained to Faith. “These men are going to help him get her away from where they’ve been hiding her.”

Then another stop to switch back to the Gulfstream, carefully moving Mark and getting him set in cabin. Finally they lifted off again and Faith hitched closer to the litter. She sat holding Mark’s hand as they flew into the bright glare of the morning sun. They were finally going home.

* * * * *

Trey Winslow had just arrived home and was in his den pouring a before-dinner drink when Georgia came to the doorway.

“Trey?” Her voice sounded thin, and her eyes were filled with worry.

“What is it?”

“There are . . . some people here to see you.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “People? I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

Two men in the full uniform of military police appeared behind her. One of them stepped forward. “Senator, you’ll need to come with us.”

Trey’s hand shook as he set the glass down, and his stomach heaved. “Can you tell me what this is about? I’m afraid there’s some mistake.”

The Attorney General moved into the den, a somber expression on his face. “I’m afraid not, Trey. I came along myself so we can do this with a minimum of fuss. But I think you know what this is all about.”

“Trey?” Georgia looked at him. “What’s happening?”

He picked up his jacket from the chair where he’d dropped it. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Just a little misunderstanding. But you might call Sam Morgan and tell him his legal skills might be needed.”

He buttoned his jacket, tightened his tie, kissed his wife, and walked out of his house for what he was afraid was probably the last time.

* * * * *

Mr. Brown and Mr. Green sat quietly in their seats as their plane landed smoothly at Ronald Reagan International Airport. They’d said little to each other since the call had come to get their asses back to Washington. Things were falling apart. They knew it.

All they wanted at this point was to finish up their business, get the hell out of Dodge, and take their money with them. How bad could hiding away on an island be, anyway?

As the plane rolled up to the gate, the copilot exited the cockpit, and walked purposefully into the cabin until he reached their seats. He motioned for the passenger in the aisle seat to stand and took his place.

“Please wait until all the other passengers have deplaned,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t cause a problem.”

Mr. Green tried to bluff his way through. “What’s going on? What’s the meaning of this?”

The copilot just looked at them. “I think you know that. If it were up to me, I’d just shoot both of you and be done with it, but we all have rules to follow.

Mr. Brown looked as if he were about to throw up, and Mr. Green broke out in a cold sweat. They sat wedged in by the copilot until the plane was empty of all the other passengers. Seconds later three men in the uniforms of the military police entered, their faces grim. One of them stepped forward.

“Lloyd Brannigan? George Harris? As employees of the Department of Defense, it is my duty to tell you that you’ve been charged with treason.”

“There must be some mistake.” Brannigan, aka Green, tried to bluff. “Do you know who we report to?”

The man looked at him his face rigid with distaste. “We do. The chief of staff to the Secretary of Defense, who at this moment is also being arrested.”

Brown and Green looked at each other.

“Shit.” Brown—Lloyd Brannigan—said the word softly.

“Double shit,” Green—George Harris—agreed.

“You need to come with us,” the man announced. “You won’t want to cause a disturbance. Any one of us would be more than happy to shoot you, given the chance.”

Mr. Brown and Mr. Green looked at each other. It was truly over, and the jaws of hell yawned before them.

* * * * *

Secretary of Defense Howard McLean walked into the office of his chief of staff, Raymond “Digger” Frost, his face tight with anger. The telephone call from JSOC had been like a pistol shot to the head. If the proof hadn’t been sent to him on his very private email, he’d have vigorously denied it. But he couldn’t dispute the facts.

Shit. This was all he needed right now.

Digger was on the phone, but at the look on his boss’s face he hastily said, “Call you back,” and hung up. “What’s up?”

McLean stared at the man in front of him, wondering how he could have misjudged him so badly. “I’ve known you a long time, Digger,” he said slowly. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

Digger’s smile disappeared. “Is something wrong, Chief?”

McLean shoved his hands in his pockets. “You think you know someone, and one day something happens and you realize that person is a stranger. Someone you don’t even understand.”

Sweat popped out on Digger’s forehead. “Mind telling me what this is all about?”

“I think you know what I’m talking about. It’s about being a traitor. About selling out your country to make money. About turning your back on everything good and decent.”

“Chief, I—”

“They rescued Mark Halloran this morning,” McLean said.

Digger paled. “I beg your pardon?”

“It isn’t my pardon you should beg. It’s the souls of those brave men killed because you sold them out.” He turned toward the door and waved two military police into the office. “Get this garbage out of here.”

He could hear Digger protesting all the way down the hall, and a terrible sadness settled over him. It would be a long time before he ever gave anyone that kind of trust again.

* * * * *

The rain had stopped by the time the chopper landed on the bluff next to the cabin. The wind, however, was still strong, but Ed battled it skillfully as he set them down. The door to the cabin banged open and Tess, clad in an oversize sweatshirt and rolled-up jeans raced out to the clearing. She stood impatiently to the side as Troy and Rick leaped down, then lifted the litter out. When Faith followed them Tess threw her arms around her.

“Thank God, thank God.” She hugged her friend. “I was so worried. Even though Dan called to tell us you were all okay, I had to see you with my own eyes.”

Faith hugged her back, then tugged loose. “Let’s go inside. It’s freezing out here.”

The men had carried Mark into the second bedroom and moved him onto the bed. Troy was busy shifting the IV bags and setting up equipment. He turned as Faith came in the door. “I could only do basic first aid on the chopper,” he told her. “Give me about a half hour, okay? Those wounds really need better cleaning, some of them need packing, and others may need stitching. And it won’t hurt for me to bathe him. He’s got twenty layers of jungle dirt on him.”

“Can I help? Please?”

Troy studied her face, then nodded. “All right. I can use the help. Find something clean to change into and wash up real good. I’ll get everything ready.”

It took more like an hour, and Faith had to bite her lip to keep from crying again at Mark’s condition. How he’d managed to stay alive was a miracle in itself. Finally they had him thoroughly cleaned, stitched, bandaged, and medicated.

Faith pulled a little wooden chair up to the bed and sat down. “I’ll stay with him.”

“All right. I’ll bring you in a better chair, though.”

She gave him a watery smile. “It doesn’t matter. I could sit on nails and not feel it.”

“I’ll bet you could,” he grinned.

The others came in to check on Mark, and Tess brought her a mug of tea, having found more teabags in the cupboard.

“You should eat something,” she said. “You can’t live on tea.”

“Later. But thanks.”

She reached for Mark’s hand—the one without the IV in it—leaned forward to touch her forehead to his body and finally, now that it was done, gave in to the flood of tears.

* * * * *

It turned out, of course, to be the scandal of the year. Maybe of the decade. A member of the Senate Armed Forces Committee and the chief of staff to the Secretary of Defense selling information to the world’s most notorious arms dealer. Selling out the men and women fighting to preserve the very freedom those men enjoyed, and putting the country they served at risk. Secretary McLean looked as if he’d aged twenty years, and Georgia Winslow went into what could only be called seclusion.

The Department of Justice was ruthless in rounding up everyone who had ever been involved with them. And thanks to the efforts of Major Gregorio and Colonel Ryan, they had the information on the money trail and scooped up everything in their accounts.

At the cabin in Maine the men of Phoenix monitored the television reports, angry at the callousness and greed of two men who had jeopardized so many lives, not to mention the security of the country. Joey improved daily, excited that his captain was actually safe and alive, and even managed to visit Mark’s room.

Dan, Rick, and Mike left, heading back to Baltimore where they would operate out of Dan’s condo, although they checked in daily. Only Troy remained behind to take care of his two patients.

Major John Gregorio had flown up on a sunny morning and brought them further information. He spent an hour with Mark, visited with Joey, quietly thanked Troy, and asked him to pass along his gratitude to the others.

He shook Faith’s hand firmly before he left, a look of admiration in his eyes.

“You’re a courageous woman, Miss Wilding,” he told her. “You’ve got guts and determination. Captain Halloran’s a lucky man.”

The Phoenix attorney had taken care of Faith’s situation with startling efficiency. She already had a check from the insurance company and an offer from her publisher to replace her materials. She’d spoken to her parents and assured them she was fine, Mark had called his folks, and Tess had gone back to San Antonio to begin rebuilding the materials Faith would need to go back to work.

By the following week Joey was stashed someplace else, and everyone else had tactfully removed themselves. Troy had agreed that Faith could handle whatever care Mark needed, and Ed had flown some supplies up to them. Faith stood with Mark outside in the fresh air and sunshine as they watched the helicopter lift off. Then they headed back inside.

“I insist that you lie down,” she told Mark. “You’ve been up a lot today.”

“Only if you join me,” he grinned.

She gave his arm a playful swat as he dropped onto the bed. “You’re in no shape for any funny stuff, soldier.”

“You’d be amazed at what I’m in shape for.” He smiled, but his eyes were dark with need.

“Mark.” Faith busied herself taking off his shoes and socks, tugging down his jeans, pushing him under the covers. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He reached up and pulled her down on top of him, then rolled her to his side. “I’m a sick man. You have to do what I tell you. And what I’m telling you is to get under these covers with me right now.”

“I don’t think . . .”

“Right. Don’t think.” The smile left his face. “Please, Faith. It’s been so long. I need to hold you next to me. Naked.”

Biting back further protests, Faith kicked off her shoes and pulled off her socks. Removed her clothes and dropped them on the straight-back wooden chair. Gave him an assessing look as if to assure herself he was really okay for this kind of activity, she reached into her large tote, and pulled out a box of condoms.

Mark’s eyes lit with amusement. “A woman who comes prepared. I like that.”

She took one foil packet out and tossed it on the nightstand. By the time she pulled the covers back to slide in beside Mark he’d gotten himself out of his shorts and T-shirt. His arm came around her to pull her next to him. She’d thought he’d be cold, but when she touched him heat was rising from his body.

She took a moment to indulge herself, running her hands over him, exploring him, assuring herself he was really here and alive. He was thinner, leaner—still recovering from near-starvation. And when she touched the bandage still covering the wound on his leg she wanted to cry.

“It’s okay, Tidbit.” He stroked her back. “I’m fine. It’s over and done, and I’m home.”

“I could have lost you.” She buried her face against his shoulder.

“Not a chance.”

He tunneled his fingers in her hair and pulled her head toward him. They’d had a lot of kisses since the rescue but none as hot and searing as this one. His tongue probed inside her mouth at once, touching every slick surface, dueling with her own tongue. She was so hungry for him she wanted to just devour him. He ate at her mouth, his tongue everywhere, his lips still welded to hers.

He shifted slightly so she was lying more on her back, his mouth still glued to hers, and traced her body with his free hand.

“When I was in that tent,” he told her, breaking the kiss, “I thought about this all the time. Touching you. Feeling the weight of your breasts in my hands. The swollen tautness of your nipples. Your skin that feels like rich satin.”

Faith rested her hand on his chest, running her fingers over the soft hair against the hard wall of muscle. Scraping his nipples with her fingernails and smiling when he sucked in a breath.

“Feel my cock,” he whispered, his voice husky. “Feel what just your touch does to me.”

She slipped her hand down his flat stomach to find his shaft hot and rigid and very swollen. And erect. Curling her fingers around it, she pumped up and down, once, twice.

“Not too much,” he cautioned. “I dreamed about this all the time I was in that stinking jungle. I want to last more than five minutes.”

“No worries,” she promised. “Tell me what to do to make it easier for you.” She knew he was still fighting residual pain and some difficulty with movement.

“Straddle me,” he said. “Climb on my chest. I want to see and taste that delicious pussy of yours.”

Lithely she moved herself so her thighs were on either side of him and her sex was barely an inch from his mouth. He opened her with his fingers and for a long moment just stared. She knew she was very wet. Had been from the moment she felt his naked body next to hers.

Very slowly he brushed the tip of one finger back and forth over her clit, and her cream gushed onto his chest, making him smile.

“Damn. You’re really ready for me, aren’t you.”

“I’ve been ready for weeks.”

He worked her clit, watching her face, his eyes dark with passion. She rocked back and forth, his soft chest hair rubbing against the wet lips of her pussy. She felt his hands on the cheeks of her ass as she moved that final inch closer to him, and then his tongue was on her, licking her, tasting her, and fire streaked through her everywhere.

Mark was afraid he wouldn’t last long? She had her doubts about herself.

He lifted his mouth, gripped her hips and slid her backward.

“I think we need that condom about now.” She almost didn’t recognize his voice.

Faith moved off his body, but before she got up from the bed pulled the covers back and let her gaze sweep over him. His cock stood proud and erect, waiting. Yup, he was ready.

“You’re going to have to do most of the work, Tidbit,” he cautioned.

“My pleasure,” she assured him.

She ripped the foil packet open, climbed back onto the bed and slowly, slowly rolled the latex onto him.

“Can you possibly hurry it up a little?” he asked through gritted teeth.

She gave a tight little chuckle. “I want to make sure you enjoy every minute of this.”

“Believe me, I’m enjoying it. Come on, Faith, I want to be inside you. Right now.”

She positioned herself over him, her thighs on either side of his, and slowly lowered herself onto that thick shaft. When he was all the way inside her she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, letting the sensation of him sweep over her. This was it. This was where she belonged. This was what life was all about. Mark so deep inside her they were almost one person.

And then she moved, slowly at first, then increasing the tempo, watching his face, his eyes, seeing the flush of desire on his cheeks. His hands gripped her waist, and he pushed her to increase her pace.

“Faster,” he told her. “More.”

This wasn’t the erotic fireworks or sizzling combustion of previous couplings. This was slower, sweeter, deeper. This was so much more than sex. It was love. It was forever.

Faith rocked back and forth then sped up her tempo again. When the orgasm hit them it was slow and long and sweet, starting low in her belly and rising like an encroaching tide to sweep through her body. Mark’s hands tightened their grip on her, and his cock flexed inside her as he spurted into the sheath. Her muscles pulled at him tighter and tighter, drawing every drop from him as her climax continued to roll through her. She was stretched out on an endless rack of pleasure, and Mark was right there with her.

She had no idea how long the pleasure gripped them, but at some point it eased and she fell forward on his chest, her breath trapped in her throat and her heart hammering fiercely against her ribs. She looked up at Mark’s face and saw him staring at her, so much emotion in his eyes it made her want to cry. She smoothed her fingers over his lips.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you more,” he said.

They lay like that for a long moment before he spoke again. “Help me get this condom off, and then I think I need a nap.”

“Right there with you,” she grinned.

For so long she’d been afraid she’d never be able to sleep next to him again. Now she cuddled close, spooned against him, the steady beat of his heart thudding against her back in a comforting rhythm. She closed her eyes and gave thanks.

* * * * *

Later, after hot soup and bread, they sat out on the porch to watch the sunset, side by side on the wooden settee. Mark picked up Faith’s hand, playing with her fingers.

“We wasted time, Tidbit. Far too much time.”

“You didn’t know,” she started.

He placed a finger on her lips. “I was too rigid. Too set on what I should and shouldn’t do. Lying in that tent, afraid I’d never see you again, I made a promise to myself.”

“Oh?” Her lips curved in a smile. “And what was that?”

“The minute I could stand up before a justice of the peace, or a minister, or whatever you want, we’d get married. Now I’m ready, and I don’t want you to argue with me about it.”

She felt tears starting again. For days now she’d felt like a leaky faucet. “Are you sure you want to make that kind of decision now? You’ve been through so much.”

“That’s the very reason I want to do this.” He placed a fingertip under her chin and turned her to face him. “I love you, Faith. I’ve wasted enough of my life putting it off. You’re going to have to rebuild your house. I want us to do it together.”

“I don’t want you to give up what you’re doing,” she insisted. “It’s dangerous, but I know how committed you are to it.”

“Yes, I am. What I do is important to me, and I couldn’t live with myself if I turned my back on it. But I’ll do it a lot better knowing you’re in our home waiting for me. Anyway, I only have a year left and then I’m out. Say yes, Faith, and let’s get this show on the road.”

“Oh, Mark.” She leaned over and hugged him. “Of course I’ll marry you. Just as quickly as we can.”

“You are the anchor in my life,” he told her.

“As you are of mine.” She gave him a watery smile.

“But remember. No matter where I am, no matter how remote or isolated my location, I’ll always be able to tell you how much I love you. You’ll always be able to hear my message.”

“Same goes, my love.”

“And those messages will be the bond that ties us together. No matter what.”

He kissed her then, a kiss so full of love and promise her heart swelled. A kiss that sealed a future as bright as the sun shining on their faces.