Free Force of Fire (The Kane Legacy) by Rosa Turner Boschen

anyway? Operatives
don't play by the rules. Operatives play to win.
    And this time, winning was all
that mattered. He had to get her back. All that time wasted. All that time
caught up with one fucking Peace Corps volunteer who didn't know his ass from
his elbow, much less a good woman when he had one. All that time since that
faraway night at the beach house when Joe should have given her what she
deserved and made things real.
    Joe loosened his seat belt. It
had been a long three nights the jungle without sleep. Long three nights of
patching his wounds with shredded khaki slacks, calling on every ounce of
battle strength he owned to make it the hell out of there. He was reluctantly
dozing off, the murky memories starting to crystallize...
    What a crazy
party it was that early October night at his Uncle Tom’s beach house. That afternoon Ana had conned Joe into a $50,000 amendment to her contract, and
now the whole project office was celebrating.
    'What the hell,' Joe thought,
taking another swig of beer. 'It's only money and, hey, the hospital's a good
cause.'
    Joe wondered what was up with Ana when she brushed by him – just a little too
closely – on her way to the bar. She had consumed quite a bit of gin and
her tropical print bikini, which left little to the imagination to begin with,
was gaping in some pretty revealing places. Not that he was looking and not
that he was enticed by that splash of pink nipple on her alabaster breast.
Hell, no. This was just business and she’d just had a little too much. That was
all.
    The boisterous party guests
left in small groups, escorted by sober Embassy drivers in bulletproof jeeps.
Joe stood in the doorway watching the last of the revelers depart. He shook his
head with lingering amazement. Only in Costa Negra . How the hell did he get picked for this plum
assignment anyway?
    Suddenly, he remembered Ana. Had
she gone? Surely he would have noticed her cascade of long, dark hair boarding
among the others.
    He quickly made his way across
the open living area and out through the patio doors where he stopped short.
    From the arch of the doorway,
he could see her pale silhouette framed by her own reflection in the pool. She
sat facing the ocean, her legs dangling freely in the water. A sheet of black
hair lay in a sleek line down her moistened back.
    She spoke without turning to
acknowledge him. 'I suppose you'll have to drive me back to town.'
    'Ana,' he said, flustered by a
compromising situation he’d not arranged. 'I thought you’d gone.'
    Still facing the water, she
lifted her arms and coiled her wet mass of hair into a loose knot at the nape
of her neck. Her bare shoulders were smooth and inviting.
    'Were you hoping I'd gone?'
    'Of course not,' he said,
regaining composure. 'In fact, beautiful, I'm awfully glad you stayed.'
    He strode across the patio and
settled himself down at the water's edge, plopping his legs into the pool next
to hers.
    They both sat staring at the
roll and crash of the magnificent Pacific against the black, sandy shore.
Neither one spoke. As Joe swung his legs in the water he, quite by accident he
was sure, brushed against the cool, bare silk of her calf. Their eyes met.
    'I feel pretty foolish,' she
said, seeming to lose her nerve. 'Maybe you should take me back to my hotel.'
    He’d waited twenty-four months
for this opportunity.
    'I will –' Joe said,
dropping into the water and pulling her soaking body to meet his own, 'in the
morning.'

 

CHAPTER NINE

 
    Isabel sat watching small
bouquets of cherry blossoms parachute from wide, spindly trees. In contrast to
the blustery winds outside, Albert's office hung with the weight of dead air.
Stale memories, she thought, sipping from her afternoon sherry.
    She turned his sagging mahogany
chair toward his desk, catching her reflection in the ornate, gold-framed
mirror in the hall. Even at seventy-two, her form cut a certain elegance
against the backdrop of the window. The curls that spun freely from