Show No Fear - By Marliss Melton Page 0,11

cloth under steaming water and pressed it to the wound.

She tried not to flinch as he pressed it to her hip. It would take more than an itty bitty cut to slow her down.

“Now,” he said, dabbing her hip dry with a second cloth. “No more running. I want a good scab on this cut before you step foot in the jungle.”

“Hooyah.” She tossed off a mock salute, snatching the Band-Aid from his hand before he put it on her.

His touch was unsettling enough. She didn’t need him coddling her. All that did was feed the little seed of doubt sprouting roots in her mind.

Lucy Donovan didn’t do helpless. She could damn well put on her own Band-Aid. A knock at the door startled them both, making them realize they’d both been speaking English, and none too quietly, either.

Gus went to answer it while Lucy bandaged her hip and scrounged up her composure.

“Carlos, come in,” Gus said in Spanish.

Adjusting her clothing, Lucy trailed them toward the window.

“I just checked the arrival times of the others,” said the Spaniard, his gaze touching on her flushed face. “Fournier the Frenchman and Bellini, the Italian, will arrive this afternoon. The Turkish woman comes this evening,” he added, looking back at Gus. “As long as you return from your meeting by six o’clock, no one will notice your absence. If someone shows up early, I’ll tell them you’re out sightseeing.”

“Sounds good,” said Gus.

“The safe house is ten blocks from here. I scoped it out this morning. You can either take a taxi or the Trans-Milieno,” he added.

“We’ll see how we feel,” Gus replied with a shrug.

“Fournier will want all of us to dine together this evening, so don’t get lost,” cautioned Carlos. “Besides, you don’t want to be out after dark in Bogotá,” he added with a wink at Lucy. He headed toward the door. “Be safe.”

Lucy couldn’t help but reflect that safe was clearly a relative term. While she doubted harm would befall her with a Navy SEAL for protection, their chemistry was proving explosive enough to make any situation volatile.

CHAPTER 3

It’s about a three-mile walk,” Gus pointed out as they stepped out of a fire-escape exit to avoid being noticed by the valets guarding the hotel’s main entrance. “You want to take a taxi, or the TransMilieno like Carlos said?”

“And risk my life for nothing?” Lucy retorted, pulling up the hood over her waterproof jacket while sweeping a practiced eye up and down the tree-lined boulevard.

The falling temperatures and light drizzle left her feeling chilled. How much worse would it feel in the jungle without any type of real shelter?

“It might aggravate your incision to walk that far,” Gus pointed out.

“Three miles isn’t far,” retorted Lucy. “Besides, I want to see the city. I’ve heard it’s beautiful. Which way do we go?”

“North,” he said, glancing at his watch. Realizing it had a compass on it, Lucy had to smile. James had always loved his gadgets. What a shame he would have to leave this one behind. “This way,” he added, throwing a casual arm around her and steering down a brick-laid boulevard.

Awareness shot through Lucy as their hips collided. It was proving all too easy to play the role of Gus’s bride. On an instinctive level, she was comfortable with him. Why wouldn’t she be when, at one time, they’d been inseparable, two peas in a pod? But just as he had back in college, Gus knew how to push her buttons, how to infuriate her, how to arouse her. And when he did either, she lost focus. On an assignment as dangerous as theirs, that could be deadly.

Fortunately, things hadn’t gotten dangerous yet. The only thing his hand at the small of her back distracted her from was a city that blended old-world charm with glittering skyscrapers. Caught up in Bogotá’s allure, she led him away from the brick-lined avenues to the smaller streets to enjoy the capital’s true flavor by mingling with the locals.

Many minutes later, she caught Gus glancing at his watch again.

“We’re going to be late,” she guessed, trying to gauge where they were.

“This way,” he said. “There’s the Museo de Oro.”

The museum’s golden dome was a landmark for the safe house. Once beyond its doors, they came to a residential neighborhood where middle-class houses hid behind walls topped with broken glass. “This is it,” he added, pausing by a pedestrian gate at number 733. He depressed the intercom button.

“¿Sí?” asked a gruff male voice.

Gus announced them in