Dangerous to Hold by Merline Lovelace Page A

he’d left her alone.
    â€œI can’t stay inside any longer,” she told him, her eyes luminous in their intensity. “I have to get out. I have to move around. I won’t allow myself to be more of a prisoner than I am.”
    â€œLet’s just review our options here,” Jake growled. “I could damn well drag you back to the hut.” In fact, he thought, it would give him a good deal of satisfaction at this moment to pick little Sister Sarah up, carry her back inside, and dump her on her keister.
    â€œYou could,” she acknowledged, her gaze locked with his.
    He jerked his chin toward the children squatting by the stream. “Or I suppose you think I could just stand guard over you and the kids, like some medieval knight protecting his lady.”
    One delicately arched brow told him just how little she considered him a knight in shining armor.
    â€œOr I could let you live with the consequences of your sudden spurt of independence, which is…” Out of the corner of one eye, Jake caught sight of the beefy, pig-faced lieutenant strolling across the clearing toward them. “Which is what I’ll have to do. We just ran out of options, lady.”
    Jake slanted her a quick look, relieved to see that she at least had the sense to wipe the determined expression from her face and dull the impact of her vivid eyes.
    The man called Enrique stopped beside them. Hooking his hands in his belt, he rocked back on his heels and gave the sister a narrow, appraising glance. “So, gringo, your little religiosa has decided to make an appearance?”
    â€œThe heat in the shack grew too much for her,” Jake replied with a shrug. “She needs air.”
    â€œOr perhaps occupation for her hands, eh?”
    Jake saw her swallow quickly, then firm her lips. “Perhaps,” he agreed, accepting the inevitable.
    The lieutenant lifted a hand to scratch his chest. “When the men get back from patrol, I will tell them to bring theircomplaints to her. Myself, I’m healthy as a horse. Although…” His big paw stilled its absent movement. “Maybe I’ll find a pain somewhere that needs attention, eh?”
    â€œI’d suggest you stay healthy until Che gets back,” Jake drawled. “He left you in charge of the camp, remember? And me in charge of the woman.”
    Enrique didn’t miss the unsubtle reminder. He eyed the man opposite him lazily, as if debating whether or not to challenge him. Jake didn’t alter his own easy stance, but the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. His .45 was nestled in the holster attached to his web belt. He’d left his automatic rifle propped against the wall inside the hut, however. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
    â€œHave you heard from him?” Jake asked casually. “Che said he’d radio in as soon as he arranged a new drop.”
    â€œNo, but we should hear from him soon. Unless the patrón was not there when he arrived. Then Che must wait until he returned.”
    Jake’s mouth twisted. For too many years, the great landowners had oppressed the people of this region, paying them slave wages for backbreaking labor on their coffee and banana plantations. Now a new generation of powerful barons had gained financial dominance—the drug lords who operated the processing plants hidden in Cartoza’s deep, protected valleys. They were slowly gaining a stranglehold over the economic fabric of the country that was more pervasive, more devastating, than that of the old landowners. Even Che, a man dedicated to overthrowing the current government in favor of a people’s democracy, depended on a “patrón” for funding. So much for the revolutionary’s political purity, Jake thought cynically.
    â€œLet me know when you hear from him. I’ll be around.”
    â€œSo will I, gringo,” the man replied, his eyes on the nun.
    Pig-face would take some