She was beautiful.

Without thinking, Jake rose to his feet. It was part of his officer’s training to stand in the presence of women, despite his feeling that no woman was up to the job that lay ahead of him.

“Are you…” he began awkwardly, holding out his hand toward her. Somehow, he wished she wasn’t his team partner. She was too beautiful, too feminine looking to be qualified for such a risky venture.

Ana smiled shyly. “Jake Travers?” His gaze assessed her as if she were stripped naked before him. Girding herself, she tried to cooly return his arrogant gaze.

Jake felt his skin tighten at the sound of his name on her lips. He managed a curt nod. “Yeah, I’m Jake Travers.” He sounded as snarly as he felt.

“Well,” she asked lightly, “do I meet with your approval?”

Jake scowled. “That remains to be seen….”

Man with a Mission
Lindsay McKenna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my editor, Lynda Curnyn. Thank you for all your

help, your support and belief in my plots and characters.

LINDSAY MCKENNA

is a practicing homeopath and emergency medical technician on the Navajo Reservation. She lives with her husband, David, near Sedona.

THIS MONTH

you’ll find bold adventure and passionate romance

in Silhouette Special Edition

as

Lindsay McKenna

continues her popular series,

MORGAN’S MERCENARIES: MAVERICK HEARTS

Morgan’s men are born for battle-

but are they ready for love?

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

“Hey! You can’t go in there, Captain Travers!”

Morgan raised his head at the sound of his assistant’s voice. He was in conference with Mike Houston and Pilar Martinez, both of whom had flown in from Peru, and was going over some February reports with them when the door to his office was pushed open. A tall, scowling, dark-haired man, around age thirty, strode into the war room, with tiny, blond-haired Jenny Wright tugging on his right arm in a futile attempt to stop his progress. Morgan’s assistant looked like a gnat attacking a massive Cape buffalo.

Mike Houston automatically rose, unsure who the man who had crashed their conference was. He went on guard, his hand moving to the holstered pistol he wore beneath his dark blue blazer.

Morgan sat back, his gaze sweeping the stranger’s tense, hard features. The look of desperation and apology in his assistant’s wide blue eyes told him everything. Holding up his hand, he murmured, “It’s all right, Jenny. Let him go.”

Jenny released the stranger’s arm. She was breathing hard. Diminutive compared to his bulk and height, she glared up at him, her hands set petulantly on her hips. “I’m really sorry, Morgan. I tried to stop him. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’m really sorry….” She brushed several strands of gold hair from her gathered brows.

Morgan turned his narrowed eyes upon the young stranger, who was dressed in camel-colored slacks, a matching blazer and a white shirt open at the collar. There was casual elegance to the man’s attire, but Morgan detected an obvious military bearing in the way he squared his shoulders and stood, feet slightly apart, hands at his sides, as if waiting for a counterattack.

“And you are?” Morgan asked in a deep tone.

“My name is Captain Jake Travers, Mr. Trayhern.” He turned to Morgan’s assistant. There was apology in his low, strained voice. “I’m sorry, Ms. Wright. I have to see Mr. Trayhern. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Jenny scowled up at him, her jaw set, her full lips thinned. “The world wants to see Mr. Trayhern! What makes you think you are better than anyone else and can just bust in here like this? The nerve!”

Morgan squelched a smile. Jenny, the young woman he had hired when his old assistant retired a year earlier, was only five foot two and barely a hundred pounds soaking wet, but she was fiercely protective. Like a willful, loyal terrier, once she latched on to something with her teeth, she didn’t let go. The tiny dynamo had dreams of being a mercenary someday. Morgan hated to break the news to her that she’d never be one. Jenny had no military or police background. But she had a wonderful, romantic side to her, and Morgan sensed that in her dream of dreams, she’d like to be a heroine like the women he already had in his employ at Perseus. Jenny idolized all the mercenaries. She loved working at Perseus, and if the truth be known, she was the best assistant he’d ever had. “It’s all right, Jenny. Why don’t you bring us some coffee? Mr. Travers here looks like he could use a cup.”

Jake nodded hesitantly. “Yes, sir, I could use some coffee about now….” He gave Jenny another apologetic glance. “I’m very sorry, Ms. Wright…I hope you can forgive me?”

Jenny looked at Morgan. “Okay,” she muttered with defiance, “I’ll get the coffee.” She jerked her tiny chin up at Jake. “And no, I don’t forgive you!” Then she turned on her heel and stalked out, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Morgan felt Mike move from his tense position, though he never took his eyes off Jake Travers. Pilar, who was on his right, was studying the intruder intently, too.

“Well, Captain Travers, now that you have our full, undivided attention, would you like to come and sit down over here,” Morgan said, pointing to a chair near where they were sitting, “and tell us what’s so important that you breached all my security to get here?” There was amusement in his tone.

“I’m no longer a captain, sir.” Jake stood watching the wary-looking man to the left of Morgan Trayhern. He knew him. He was Major Mike Houston, a legendary figure in the U.S. Army, a special forces officer who had made a big difference in Peru by chasing down and stopping the drug cartels in that country.

“Oh?” Morgan said mildly.

Jake opened his hand. “I resigned my commission yesterday, sir. The army wouldn’t let me go after my sister, who has been kidnapped by a drug lord in Peru. I told them to go to hell. I’ll move heaven and earth to find her…and I need your help….”

“Whoa, slow down, Son,” Morgan said. “Come on, sit down. Let’s talk this out.”

Mike relaxed once he realized Jake Travers was an officer in the U.S. Army, just as Mike himself had been at one time. A lot of people had a price on Morgan’s life, which was why the head of Perseus kept his main office hidden deep in the Rocky Mountains of Montana. No one, except for this petulant upstart of an army officer, had ever found Morgan, or been able to get through all the tight security set up for Perseus employees who worked at the Philipsburg office. Until now. That said something about Jake Travers’s cunning and abilities. He deserved time with Morgan based upon his daring.

“Yes, sir.” Jake gave Mike and the woman a penitent glance as he moved toward the long, oval table and the chairs surrounding it. “I apologize for my lack of manners and appointment.”

Chuckling, Morgan gave Houston a bemused look as Jake sat down. Jenny entered with a tray bearing white china cups, a coffee dispenser, cream, sugar, and cinnamon rolls for the four of them. She set it down near Travers. Giving him a dark look of disapproval, she quickly poured everyone coffee, then left.

Morgan reached for one of the small cinnamon rolls, which were baked on the premises every morning for himself and his employees. When he saw Travers giving them a longing look, he said, “Have some, Captain? You appear a little hungry around the edges.”

Jake didn’t hesitate. He was starving. “Thank you, sir. And, as I mentioned earlier, you can dispense with my title. I’m no longer in the army…I’m a civilian now.”

Houston folded his hands and watched the young officer. “You’re a ranger, aren’t you?”

Jake looked up, startled. “Is it written all over me, despite my civilian clothes, sir?”

Houston smiled a little. “It takes one to know one. Your stance. The way you carry yourself. Your alertness.”

Jake gobbled down three of the small cinnamon rolls, then sheepishly drank most of his coffee and poured himself more.

“I think Señor Travers needed this breakfast,” Pilar noted, smiling gently. “How long has it been since you’ve last eaten?”

Jake felt heat moving up his neck and into his face. The three of them were studying him with kindly looks; they weren’t laughing at him. Sitting back, the delicate white cup decorated with purple and yellow violets looking tiny in his massive hands, he muttered, “About twelve hours, ma’am. I left Fort Benning, Georgia, and have been patching together transportation across the U.S. to get here.”

“You were with the 75th Ranger Regiment?” Mike asked mildly.

“Yes, sir, I was.” He sipped the hot coffee with relish, his gaze darting from one to the other. Jake had no idea how he would be received. Morgan Trayhern, the man he had to see, seemed slightly entertained by his impromptu entrance. Houston was more assessing. And the beautiful black-haired woman, whose cultured voice had a distinct Spanish accent, had a look of compassion in her sparkling eyes. Still, his stomach was knotted and tense.

Mike nodded. “Good outfit. So why’d they let you resign your commission to come out here and see us?”

“Sir, it’s about my sister, Talia Travers.” Jake sat up, his back rigid with stress. Setting the cup aside, he said in an emotional, strained voice, “You’ve got to help me find her. Please…”

“Slow down, Son,” Morgan murmured, wiping his hands on a linen napkin. “Start from the beginning, will you?”

Chastened, Jake nodded. “My sister, Talia—Tal—is two years younger than me. She’s a hydrologist. She looks for water and tells people where to dig a well, basically. She’s one of the best and brightest out of Ohio State University. She’s always wanted to help the poor and the underprivileged. Last year she quit a very high-paying job with a U.S. firm and took a position for one-quarter of the money, with the Wiraqocha Foundation.”

Mike’s brows rose. “I know of them.”

Morgan glanced at him. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Mike murmured. “They’re a legit nonprofit organization out of California that works with the Que’ro Indians, the last of the Inkan bloodlines, up in the mountains of Peru. Last I heard, they were sinking water wells up in the Rainbow Valley area, which is about a hundred miles northwest of Cusco, near the gateway to Machu Picchu Reserve.”

Relief flooded Jake. “Yes, sir, that’s them. That’s who my sister went to work for. She just went down there on her first assignment, to find six places to sink wells, at different Que’ro villages in that region.” He was so glad someone knew the area.

“Go on,” Morgan murmured.

“Tal went down there two weeks ago. We spoke just before she left from Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport to hop a flight down to Lima. She was really excited. She was to head up a team of hydrologists and other water experts from Peru, who were going to meet her in Cusco and make plans to put in the new wells. You see, sir, sixty percent of the children in those villages die because of bad water.” Jake shook his head and frowned. “Sixty percent, sir. Well, Tal has a big, soft heart, and when she found out little babies and young children were dying at those rates, she went to the Wiraqocha Foundation and offered her services to try and turn those numbers around. I mean—” he opened his hand helplessly “—if it was your child that died because of bad water…”

Morgan nodded. “I understand,” he said softly. “Your sister is to be commended for her courage in helping those people.”

“Yes, sir.” Jake swallowed hard. “The Wiraqocha Foundation just contacted me to tell me my sister had gone missing and they suspect kidnapping. The last time I heard from Tal was last week. She called from Cusco to say she was going out in the field, near what she called the Inka Trail. There’s a village located nearby, and that’s where I believe she was when she was kidnapped.”

“The Inka Trail,” Mike told Morgan, “is an ancient route about a hundred miles long that connects the Rainbow Valley to the temple site at Machu Picchu. It’s about a thousand years old, paved with stones that were laid by the Inkan people so that runners from the empire’s main temple at Cusco could send messages to different sites in the valley, all the way to Machu Picchu.”

“And today,” Pilar added, “it’s considered one of the most beautiful and challenging trails in the world. People from around the world walk it just to say they did it and survived.” She smiled a little. “The trail goes from fourteen thousand feet down to six thousand. And it’s not for wimps.”

Houston chuckled. “No joke.” Then he became somber. “That area you’re talking about has never had drug activity—until now. Did your sister know of any activity before she went down there?”

Shaking his head, Jake muttered, “No, sir. She didn’t say anything about it, and frankly, I didn’t think about it, either. This foundation has been working in Peru for over a decade and never heard of drugs being traded through Rainbow Valley. They are just as shocked and upset over Tal’s disappearance as my parents and I are.”

Houston nodded. “Drug lords move around. They never stay in one spot too long. They keep alive by remaining on the move.” He got up and went to a wall map of Peru, which had a number of small red flags pinned to it. He picked up the flag near the Rainbow Valley region. “Just as I thought,” he muttered, reading the tag, “the last report of drug activity we received from this area implicates a small-time drug lord who’s trying to enlarge his territory.” Mike pinned the flag back on the map and came over and sat down.

“By any chance is it Javier Rojas?” Pilar asked, looking up at Mike.

“Yep, that’d be my bet,” he answered. “A mean little snake with tiny, close-set eyes and a personality to match. He’s well known for kidnapping foreigners and then demanding money for them. It’s how he does business, getting more money to set up his little drug-smuggling kingdom.”

Jake scowled. “There’s been no word from anyone on Tal’s disappearance. The Wiraqocha Foundation has received no demands for money for her release, either. And neither have my parents. Is that bad?”

Morgan heard the carefully concealed terror in the young officer’s voice. He saw it in his pale blue eyes, in his huge black pupils. Jake leaned forward, his hands balled into fists on the table, the desperation and worry for his sister obvious.

“Look, Son, I think Pilar and Mike will agree with me that when you’re dealing with a small fish like Rojas, a phone call or demand for money at this point may be a bit premature.” Morgan looked to his people. “Am I correct?”

“That’s right,” Pilar said. She reached across the table and patted Jake’s hand gently. “You must remember, señor, that Peru is not like Norteamérica. In Peru we do not have superior roads.”

“No roads at all, most of the time,” Mike added wryly. “A lot of llama, alpaca and cow trails, though.”

“Sì. And telephones are a luxury. Especially anywhere outside of Lima, the capital, or Cusco, the second largest city in our country.”

“Translated,” Houston growled, “that means that Rojas doesn’t have an iridium satellite phone, which he could use to call anywhere in the world, because he can’t yet afford one. He can’t use a cell phone up there in those mountains, either. So he’s got to get back to Cusco, would be my guess, to get to a phone to make a call. Which—” Mike smiled a little “—can be difficult at best. If he’s the struggling little upstart of a drug lord I think he is, he doesn’t have the money, the means or the people to do this. It’s probably too soon to expect a call.”

“But what about Tal? What will he do to her?” Jake choked back the emotion rising in his chest and jamming his throat. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to wrap his fingers around Rojas’s scrawny little neck and choke him to death if he was the one who had kidnapped Tal. What would the man do to her? Rape her? Bitterness coated Jake’s mouth. Jake couldn’t stand the thought of such a thing happening to his vibrant sister, who was like sunshine in his life.

Houston sighed. “What kind of a personality does Tal have?”

“She’s outgoing. Spirited. Vibrant. She walks into a room and everyone turns to look at her.” Jake smiled a little, his voice softening. “She’s such a warm person, Major Houston. Very caring.”

“Is she a pushover?” Pilar asked.

Jake shook his head. “No, just the opposite. She’s a fighter. She can confront the meanest bastard and look him in the eye and stand toe-to-toe with him and win.”

Houston nodded approvingly. “Good. Because mealymouthed tyrants like Rojas are usually afraid of big, bruising norteamericana women, who are seen as Amazon warriors. South American men are used to passive females who do their bidding.” He glanced past Morgan and gave Pilar an apologetic look. “There are exceptions, of course.”

Pilar nodded deferentially. “Thank you, Mike.”

Jake looked at them. “You’re saying that if she stays strong, he won’t…hurt her?”

“That’s right,” Houston murmured. “She probably scares the pants off Rojas.” He chuckled.

Pilar laughed softly. “South American men have not learned how to deal with a strong, self-empowered woman yet.” Her dark eyes sparkled mischievously. “But they are learning.”

Jake leaned forward. “That leads me to why I’m here, Mr. Trayhern. I need to get down there. I need help, though. The kind only you can give me. Can you send me with one of your mercenaries as a guide? So I can find Tal? My parents are Iowa farmers. They don’t have any money at all, but I’ve got about ten thousand dollars saved and—”

“Save your money,” Morgan murmured. He looked at Mike. “Who do we have in from a mission that we could send down with him?”

Mike rolled his eyes. “No one. We’re stretched thin right now, Morgan.”

Scowling, he said, “Are you sure?”

Mike nodded glumly. “Very sure.”

Pilar sat up. “Then you need someone from inside Peru to assist you. Mike, what about Captain Maya Stevenson? She’s got a spec ops—special operations—base near Machu Picchu, right?”

Snapping his fingers, Houston sat up. “That’s right! She’s got Apache helicopter pilots from various countries working under her command. And if I recall, there are two Peruvian pilots among them. Home grown. The kind we need right now.”

Pilar grinned a little. “What are the chances of persuading Captain Stevenson to loan out a pilot who might know not only the area, but the Quechua language as well? The Rainbow Valley is mostly made up of Quechua Indian villages, where Spanish is a second language, not the first, as it is in the rest of the country.”

Morgan looked from Mike to Pilar. “Sounds good to me. What you don’t know is that I’ve been in contact with her already. I got wind, through an army general friend of mine, of her needing upgraded Apache helicopters. She indicated that she might be willing to work with us in order to get those upgrades. I haven’t told her how we might work with her.”

Jake frowned. “I don’t understand. You don’t have a team or a person from Perseus who can help me find Tal?”

“No, Son, we don’t.” Morgan smiled slightly. “But we have other contacts that might work out just as well. Maybe better. Mike, you want to contact Captain Stevenson on the iridium scramble sat com? Tell her I want to trade one of her Peruvian women pilots for those Apache upgrades she’s been wanting.” He scowled. “She won’t be easily convinced, Mike, so hang tough with her. She’s shorthanded as hell and isn’t about to let one go unless we wave those much-needed upgrades under her nose. She’s a savvy negotiator.”

Rising, Mike said, “You bet. Hang around, Captain Travers, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Nonplussed, Jake looked at Morgan. “Who’s this Captain Stevenson?”

“She’s a shadowy spec ops figure who is under spook supervision. We don’t know a whole lot about her, as her work is on a need-to-know basis. The general I talked to put me in touch with her about a month ago.”

Spooks were the CIA, Jake realized. “A woman helicopter pilot down in Peru and working for the CIA?”

“Actually,” Pilar added proudly, “she’s a U.S. Army captain, an Apache combat helicopter pilot. One of yours. How about that?”

“She’s army?”

Morgan looked amused. “Why does that surprise you, Captain Travers? Women make just as lethal warriors as any man ever did. In fact—” he smiled over at Pilar “—my women mercenaries, most of whom are from one of the four military services, are equal to or better than any man in my employ. There’re no weak sisters among them. And I like teaming up a man with a woman because women see things men often overlook. And in our business, the devil’s in the details. You overlook a detail and you’re dead. So, yes, my women are like big guard dogs, with senses far better honed than any man’s probably ever will be. Men and women each have their strong points. Together, they’ve got the best chance of carrying out a mission successfully and coming home alive.”

“You’ve made quite a few sexist statements there, Morgan. And for a change, most of them favor women,” Pilar said, her grin widening, pride in her eyes.

Morgan shrugged. “I’ve learned it the hard way over the years, Pilar. Never underestimate a woman who’s doing spy duties. She sees all the colors and has finely honed instincts.” He grinned at her. “You were a spy down in Peru for quite some time.”

Pilar nodded. “Yes, I was. And I was very good at what I did.”

“Men have just as good an ability to see details as any woman, sir,” Jake said.

Morgan studied him across the table. Jake was scowling now, as if he didn’t want to hear that a woman was as good—or better—than any man.

“Captain, I dare say you’re young and inexperienced. If you were a ranger, you have no women in your outfit—yet. And that’s a pity, in my opinion, because they bring skills and abilities to the table none of us males have ever gotten in touch with. They can teach you a lot if you’re open to learning from them.”

Jake throttled his defensive response. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but no woman can do the job a ranger does. Ever.”

Pilar sighed. “Oh, Captain, you are so young and wet behind the ears.”

Chuckling, Morgan said, “If you don’t value what a woman brings to the table, Son, then it’s your loss. Captain Stevenson has single-handedly carved out a spec ops in the Peruvian jungle in the last three years, with a small group of women U.S. Army pilots and women technicians to service the crafts. She’s cut drug running from Peru to Bolivia’s border by fifty percent. Just she and her women. Major Houston was down there for ten years trying to do the same thing, but he didn’t have near the success rate she’s had. Captain Stevenson is a bold, brilliant woman. A strong tactical planner and a visionary way ahead of her time.”

“She’s also a pit bull when it comes to drug runners,” Pilar added grimly. Studying Travers, she said, “Captain Stevenson is a legend in her own time down there. She’s feared by every drug lord in Peru. Her Boeing Apache combat choppers confront Russian Kamov Black Shark helicopters daily in the skies over Peru, stopping the cocaine from being taken over the border to Bolivia. She and her pilots are the bravest we know.”

Houston reentered the room, a big smile on his features. “Good news, Morgan. I got Captain Stevenson on the iridium sat phone.” He came over and sat down, holding a piece of paper covered with scribbled handwriting.

Looking at Travers, he said, “You’re in luck. Captain Stevenson has one Peruvian pilot who was born in the Rainbow Valley—Lieutenant Ana Lucia Cortina, twenty-seven years old. Her mother was a Que’ro Indian, her father an art gallery owner from Lima. Ana knows the Rainbow Valley region and the Inka Trail like the back of her hand.”

“Is Captain Stevenson willing to loan Ana to us for this mission to find Jake’s sister?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah…for the price you mentioned. You know, they’re shorthanded as hell down there. Maya only has twelve pilots. They fly three pilots a day, in the two Apaches and an old, antique Cobra. It’s a twenty-four-hour tour. The pilots then go to standby status for another twenty-four hours, and then the third day they get off, to rest. Actually, they’re not resting at all right now because she’s shorthanded in personnel, too, so they’re doing a lot of collateral duty.”

Mike sighed and tapped his finger on the paper. “That means that if Captain Stevenson releases Ana to us, to help Jake and be his guide, than she’s really going to be shorthanded. Her other pilots must take up the slack while Ana is gone.”

“So, the Apache upgrade will compensate her for this?” Morgan demanded.

Houston grinned. “Yes, sir, it will.”

“Fine. That’s not a problem. How about long-term?”

“She’s hurting for money and people, plus that upgrade. She needs updated, more modern Apaches, which you’re going to provide. They’re flying the old A model, the first of their type. They’ve got the new Longbows out, which are incredible, and before you stepped into the picture, she couldn’t afford them, either. What she needs is an IV transfusion of money, the new D model upgrade and people down there to sustain her in her efforts.”

“We’ll look into this further,” Morgan assured him. “I’m very interested in her setup down there and think we can work together. Maybe we can lend her a hand in a lot of different ways. We’ll just have to see….”

Houston nodded. He looked across the table at Travers. “They’re sending a faxed photo of Lieutenant Cortina to us in the next hour, plus some background info on her. Captain Stevenson says you’re to meet Lieutenant Cortina in Agua Caliente, Peru. That’s a little backwater town at the base of Machu Picchu.

“Captain Stevenson uses the local civilian helicopter that flies in and out of there to ferry her people discreetly from their base, hidden deep in the jungle, to and from this civilian town. Agua Caliente is their formal link with civilization and Cusco, which is the major city they work out of when necessary. Captain Stevenson said Lieutenant Cortina will pose as a tourista, which is normally how her people infiltrate from the military to civilian status. You’re to meet her at—” he looked at the name closely “—a French restaurant named India Feliz—Happy Indian—just off the main plaza. At 1100 hours two days from now.” Mike looked up. “You got your passport in order?”

Jake swallowed hard. “Yes, sir, I do…but…a woman? Sir, if this is as dangerous as it sounds, I really don’t want a woman tagging along with me.”

Mike gave Morgan a pointed look.

“Captain Travers,” Morgan growled, “I don’t think you heard a word we just said. Women are as good as, if not better than, any male out there in the world of spy and stealth combat. I’m sure this Lieutenant Cortina is not going to be a noose around your neck. It will probably be the other way around.” He allowed a slight, one-cornered grin to appear on his mouth.

Stunned, Jake stared at the two men. He saw Pilar sitting back, frowning. He knew he’d insulted her. “But—”

“No buts,” Morgan said. “You want your sister back, Captain?”

“Well…yes, sir, I do, but—”

“Dammit, man,” Mike said, irritated, “don’t throw up this macho mano a mano stuff with us. It doesn’t fly. Our women are equal to our men. Period. Captain Stevenson said your best bet is to use Lieutenant Cortina. She knows the valley. She was born there. She speaks five languages fluently. You speak any but English?”

Stung, Jake growled, “I speak Spanish.”

Mike shrugged. “Then you aren’t going to be as bad a liability as I first thought. Just know that Spanish is a second language down in the valley, Captain. Quechua is first, and Lieutenant Cortina speaks it fluently because she is part Quechuan. Got it?”

“Yes, sir, I got it.”

Morgan tapped his fingers briskly on the table and studied Travers from beneath his dark eyebrows. “I hear the words of agreement from you, Captain, but I sure as hell hear something else in your voice that says you want to take over this mission and do what you think is best. Well, that’s not going to happen. Lieutenant Cortina is in charge of this mission. You got that?”

Jake’s mouth fell open. “That’s impossible, sir!”

“Sit down, Captain. There’s more,” Morgan snarled.

Jake sat down rigidly, breathing hard. A woman! And on top of it all, as his commander? Not a chance!

Jabbing his finger at the ranger, Morgan said, “Lieutenant Cortina runs this mission. If she tells you to jump, you ask how high. Got it?”

“I don’t feel, sir, that any woman can successfully undertake such a mission.”

Morgan gave him a frustrated glare. “Then you do not want our help, Captain Travers. Go find your sister on your own.”

Gulping unsteadily, Jake looked at Morgan’s set face, his glacial blue eyes burning holes through him. The man meant what he said and Jake knew it. Morgan Trayhern was not bluffing. Sitting there, Jake chewed over his options. He desperately needed someone who knew the Rainbow Valley region. He needed an interpreter. Smarting beneath their collective glares, Jake looked down at his hands, which were clenched in his lap beneath the table. Grief and worry over Tal warred with his belief that a woman could never do a man’s job, especially a job like this one. What were his options?

If he flew to Peru on his own, he’d have to hire a guide and interpreter. Could the guide be trusted? How could Jake know for sure he’d find someone who wasn’t a drug runner, working for the drug lord of the valley? The only thing Jake had going for him was his knowledge of Spanish. That and his skills as a ranger, which would definitely be an asset in this situation.

Still…Tal’s life was hanging in the balance. Could he let his personal beliefs and male pride keep him from coming to her rescue? She could die because he refused to work with a woman. A shudder ran through him. He compressed his lips and raised his head.

“All right,” Jake rasped unsteadily, “I’ll work with Lieutenant Cortina.”

Morgan’s glare cut through him. “I want to hear you promise me that you’ll be her subordinate in this, Captain Travers. That you’ll accept her leadership, her authority and her status as commander on this mission.”

Swallowing hard, Jake muttered, “I accept Lieutenant Cortina as my commander on this spec ops.”

There was a long, strained silence in the room after he spoke. Jake looked anxiously at Morgan, and then at the thin-lipped, scowling Mike Houston. Both men traded glances. Mike spoke first.

“You realize, Captain Travers, that if you’re just mouthing words on this, we’ll be following your mission down there and will know at once? We refuse to jeopardize Lieutenant Cortina’s life if you decide to get up on your male testosterone motorcycle and try to take over. She’ll be carrying an iridium satellite phone on her person at all times. Captain Stevenson, as we speak, is giving Lieutenant Cortina the mission profile that I had faxed down to her earlier.

“Lieutenant Cortina will know that she’s the commander on this little adventure,” Mike continued. “She’s your best chance to find your sister and get her out alive. You aren’t. You’re a gringo, a foreigner, while Ana Cortina knows Peru by heart. The sooner you let go of your damned male pride and surrender to her knowledge of the terrain, the people and the environment, the sooner your sister will be found, hopefully alive and unharmed. But the more you try to siphon off her authority or command, the more the chances of your sister being found at all, much less alive, deteriorate rapidly. Do you understand that?” Mike’s gaze nailed him directly.

Flexing his fists beneath the table, Jake muttered, “Yes, sir, I got it.”

Morgan sighed. “I don’t know that I feel you’re trustworthy on this matter, Captain Travers. However, for the sake of your sister, who’s the innocent in all of this, I’m going to approve this mission. The moment I hear, or Mike Houston hears, of you sabotaging Lieutenant Cortina in any way, I’ll have your ass pulled out of Peru so fast it will make even your seasoned military head spin. Do we understand one another? And if that happens, then you can consider your sister dead. All the choices and decisions are yours, Captain Travers. Work as a team or else.”

Holding his anger in check, Jake nodded. “I hear you, sir. And I’m grateful for your help. Tal’s the important one here, not me. Not what I believe.”

“Fine,” Morgan said crisply, standing. He buttoned his dark gray coat. “Let’s go out and look at the photo and file that I’m sure have come in by now.”

Jake rose. He felt relief, though he was still angry. More than anything, he bridled silently over the fact that he was going to have a woman as his commanding officer on this mission. Of all the hurdles and trials he knew were before him as he tried to locate Tal, he’d never figured that a woman would also be thrown into this murky, dangerous situation. Dammit.

Chapter Two

A soft knock on Maya Stevenson’s door made her lift her head from the slew of paperwork that littered her desk. Her door was always open, but her people gave a perfunctory knock anyway.

“Come in, Ana.” She gestured to the wooden chair to the left of her desk. “Have a seat.” She noticed that Lieutenant Ana Lucia Cortina was in her black, snug-fitting helicopter uniform, her helmet tucked beneath her left arm. She had been on twenty-four-hour duty and had just flown a mission four hours ago. She looked tired. There were smudges beneath her glorious cinnamon-colored eyes. Her ebony hair, frayed from wearing the helmet, was still in a chignon at the nape of her slender neck.

“Hi…thanks…” Ana gave Maya a slight, weary smile.

“How’d the flight go?” Maya noticed as Ana set the helmet down on the desk that she looked drawn. Maya knew why. The death of her fiancé a year ago was still wearing on Ana. And Maya knew that today was Roberto’s birthday. He would have been twenty-eight years old, if he’d lived. She wished that she could love someone as much as Ana had loved Roberto, but no man had entered her life to make her feel that way. Maya had long ago given up hoping such a man existed for her.

“We got jumped by a Kamov Black Shark helicopter flown by Faro Valentino’s Russian mercenaries near the Bolivian border,” Ana murmured, sitting down in the chair. Lifting her long, slender arms, she pulled her black hair out of the tight knot at the base of her neck, shook her head and allowed the strands to tumble across her proud shoulders. “Nothing new. I took a few bullet holes in the fuselage of my Apache, but otherwise, no casualties. My crew is going to have to check it to make sure no bullets have nicked the cables in that area, but that’s all.”

“Hmm.” Maya frowned, tinkering with the silver pen between her fingers. “Get any rockets off at them?”

One corner of Ana’s full mouth lifted slightly. “Oh, yes. We got close but didn’t bring it down.” She scowled, her fine, thin black brows bunching. “I just wish we had radar capability to pick up their signature, Maya. Whatever kind of paint they’ve got on those Kamovs, we can’t detect them, and they jump us from behind every time. One of these days we’re going to get shot down,” she said, grimacing.

“I know…what we need are those new Boeing D model Apaches that came out last year. I hear through the transom that they still don’t pick up the Black Shark signature, but at least we’d have a better helo than our Russian counterpart in every other way. Right now, we’re hurting. Our budget can’t afford one.”

Ana ran her fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp. “Ugh, that helmet is so heavy. I get a headache every time.” She opened her eyes and smiled at Maya, who was dressed in the same type of black uniform. Her commanding officer’s black hair was a little longer than hers, and she wore it down when she didn’t have to fly. “I’ve given up hope of us ever getting the new D model, Maya. The U.S. Army wants to ignore the fact that we’re down here doing a fine job of stopping drug runners from reaching the Bolivian border. Because we’re a bunch of upstart women army officers.”

“Humph, isn’t that the truth.” Maya set the pen aside and leaned back in her creaky old leather chair. Outside her opened door, women clerks who worked in the headquarters building of their base, hidden deep inside a cave, moved up and down the corridor like worker bees. Keeping her voice down, Maya said to Ana, “I have a project for you, if you want it.”

Perking up, Ana said, “Oh? What? Do I get some R and R over in Agua Caliente? Do I get to stay in Gringo Bill’s Hostel and rest up? I’m dying for one of Patrick’s mocha lattes at India Feliz Restaurant.” She laughed softly, knowing that they were far too shorthanded for Maya to give her a well deserved day off.

Maya picked up a fax, rose and stretched across her desk to hand it to Ana. “No, sorry. I know you deserve some downtime. How’d you like to work with this guy? He’s a former U.S. Army Ranger captain.”

Ana took the flimsy piece of paper. The black-and-white photo of a man, his face square, eyes penetrating, mouth full but unsmiling, stared back at her. For whatever reason, Ana’s heart gave a lurch. Puzzled as to why, she studied the photo, which showed the army officer in his military uniform, ribbons and all. She recognized the parachute wings on the left breast pocket, and the ribbons he’d accrued were impressive. Despite his rock-hard expression, Ana’s intuition told her this was a man with a heart and a conscience. She had nothing to prove that, of course; it was simply something she felt to be true. And in her business as a combat pilot, her intuition was more finely honed than most. She relied on it heavily, and it had never been wrong yet.

Puzzled over why her heart had lurched unexpectedly, Ana remembered that today was Roberto’s birthday. The day that they had set for their wedding. Grief flowed through her momentarily. Well, that would never be, now. Roberto had been killed while aboard his Peruvian Navy cruiser, shot by drug runners. That was a year ago. Rubbing her heart, Ana looked up. She saw Maya studying her intently. Ana knew that look and smiled slightly.

“Okay, boss, what’s up? You’re sitting there looking at me like a jaguar eyeing a good meal.” Ana raised the fax and waved it a little. “He’s not an Apache pilot. He’s a ground pounder.”

Grinning, Maya said, “Yeah, he’s not one of us. He’s in the doggy corps.”

They both laughed. There was infamous rivalry between the U.S. Army aviation corps and the rest of the troops, which handled ground duty.

“I’ve just been told there’s a special assignment and we’ve been tapped for it,” Maya told her. “This man’s sister, Talia Travers, is a hydrologist. She finds water so wells can be dug. Anyway, she was over in Rainbow Valley when she suddenly disappeared. The foundation she works for called Jake Travers, the guy in the photo. When he tried to get the army to give him TDY—temporary duty—so he could come down here and search for his sister, they refused. So he resigned.”

“Wow,” Ana murmured, “that’s a pretty rash and reckless thing to do with your career, but I don’t blame him under the circumstances. Family is more important.”

“Yeah, isn’t it though?” Maya shook her head. “Typical out-of-step army higher-ups made the wrong decision—again. They just lost a good man and an officer. Anyway…Travers went to a spook ops organization known as Perseus. I have a friend who works with them—Mike Houston. He contacted me about this mission. What they need is a guide, Ana, to help Travers locate his sister. You’re the obvious choice. You were born at Ollytatambu at the neck of the Rainbow Valley. No one knows that huge valley like you do. You grew up climbing the mountains and walking the hundred-mile-long Inka Trail that winds through it.” Maya smiled briefly. “So I thought you might like to take this TDY. How about it?”

Frowning, Ana studied the officer’s stony countenance once more. “What do they suspect? Druggies? A kidnapping?”

“Yeah, but no one’s called in a kidnap demand to Travers’s parents or to anyone else. Houston suspects it’s Rojas, a small-time, local drug lord trying to position himself higher up on that ladder by moving into Rainbow Valley and grabbing a rich norteamericana, like Tal Travers. She’s not rich, but he doesn’t know that—yet. Rojas is obviously not so wealthy as to have an iridium sat phone on him. They cost four thousand dollars U.S. And even regular phones aren’t common in Rainbow Valley. My hunch is he’s holding on to her until he can get to Cusco to make the call.”

“Mmm.” Ana looked around the office. “Do you have the latest list of drug runners from my old stomping grounds?”

Grinning a little, Maya handed her a short list of names. “Yeah, here they are.”

Studying them, Ana shrugged. “Could be any one of them. But they mentioned Rojas as a possibility?”

“Yes. You know any of them from your days growing up there?”

Tapping the paper, Ana murmured, “Just one—Rojas. I remember him at school. As I recall, he was a slum kid from the poor side of Lima whose parents dumped him in the Rainbow Valley to get rid of him because he was embarrassing the family by stealing stuff down there. I didn’t know him personally. I had a tutor who came to our villa every day to teach me. I only heard about him. He was a real bully, I guess.”

“Knowing what you know now,” Maya murmured, “do you want the assignment? I anticipate it will take a week or less to locate Tal Travers, one way or another.”

“Gosh, Maya…what will you do without me on the pilot roster? That’s going to leave you shorthanded as heck. Only eleven pilots to fly the missions.”

“I’ll take your flight duty and missions while you’re gone. Don’t worry about it.” How like Ana to be concerned about everyone else first. That was one more thing Maya liked about her close-knit, all-female team who worked at this hidden base fifty miles from Machu Picchu, the huge tourist attraction in Peru.

Rubbing her wrinkled, broad brow, Ana said, “Well…sure, I’d love to do this. A little change of pace. I don’t get home often enough anymore, so I’ll really enjoy getting back to my old haunts.” She felt her tiredness leave at the thought of getting a break from the brutal flying duty.

“Excellent,” Maya said. “Then it’s settled. You’re to meet this dude at Agua Caliente, at our normal meeting place—India Feliz Restaurant. Patrick, the owner and chef there, will set up the meeting on the second floor so that you two have optimum, uninterrupted time to talk and plan this mission.” She looked at her watch. “Captain Travers will be arriving in Agua Caliente in roughly three hours.”

Ana’s brows rose. “Wow! That was fast.” She grinned and stood up. Picking up her helmet, she said, “I guess I’d better pop into tourista clothes and go meet my counterpart.”

“One more thing,” Maya called.

Ana halted at the door and turned. “Yes?”

“You’re in charge of this mission. Even though he’s an ex-captain, you’re the boss. He does what you say. I understand from our resources that Travers isn’t real happy having a woman for a boss. So if he gets out of line, I want to know about it pronto. Got it?”

Tucking the helmet beneath her left arm, her Nomex gloves in her right hand, Ana murmured, “Not a problem. I’ll handle it.” She flipped the gloves to her brow in a mock salute to Maya. “I’ll take the civilian helo in on the mining side and fly into Agua Caliente. Who do you want to have fly me in and out?”

“Have Dallas do it. She’s on collateral duty today,” Maya said. “And good luck. Keep your iridium phone on you at all times. If you need backup and protection, call us. We’ll be on standby for you.”

“Roger, Captain Stevenson. Read you loud and clear.” Ana grinned widely, then turned and moved into the busy hall, toward the exit. With every step, she felt lighter and lighter. Why? It made absolutely no sense. Was it because of the unexpected assignment? It was true they worked like dogs at the base, with no downtime, no rest, no liberty. Ana had been working this arduous flight schedule for three years now.

She pushed open the door and took the metal stairs down to the first floor where another door led out into the massive cave. Then she headed for an aluminum Quonset hut at the rear, where the officers had their quarters. A quick shower, a jump into civvies and she’d be ready to go!

Smiling a little, Ana felt her heart lifting. The fact that it was Roberto’s birthday today, their wedding date, had made her feel sad. It had taken an effort to fly this morning and keep her concentration sharp and focused. Her heart ached with old grief. Yet, for some reason, just seeing Jake Travers’s unsmiling photo had lifted her spirits.

“Silly girl,” she admonished herself as she walked through the shadowy cave. Everywhere she looked, women were working, either on the Apaches or the Cobra helicopter in maintenance, or driving the electric-powered golf carts that moved ceaselessly across the smooth, black lava surface, carrying supplies. The base reminded her of a beehive. Work went on twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Their mission was crucial. And they were on a wartime footing all the time.

Opening the door to the Quonset hut, Ana moved inside and down the narrow hall. Makeshift plywood cubicles had been built, each containing a small bed, a dresser and a lamp. It made for a spare, economical existence. Entering her room, Ana hung her helmet on a hook and closed the door behind her. Suddenly, she was looking forward to this unexpected mission. It would be nice to get some time off from the brutal demands of the dangerous flight missions.

As she shimmied out of her black, Nomex uniform and prepared to take a quick shower, Ana’s thoughts turned to Jake Travers. What was he really like? Did the photo lie or tell the truth? Her heart whispered that he was a caring man with a heart. Maybe. Ana would determine that soon enough. Miraculously, though, as she hurried down the hall to take a shower, an olive-green towel wrapped around her, she was looking forward to meeting this man. After Roberto’s death, Ana had given up all hope. Love like she’d found with him could never be duplicated. She knew that. At twenty-seven, she was old enough and wise enough to know that love—deep, wonderful love—would never happen twice in a person’s life.

Fatigue lapped at Jake as he sat in the restaurant. The square table before him was covered with a white linen cloth and decorated with a spray of purple orchids with red lips, set in a vase at one corner. The chef, a casually dressed man named Patrick, had had the waiter show Jake up the elegantly carved mahogany staircase to the privacy of the second floor.

Jake looked at the watch on his dark, hairy wrist. It was 11:00 a.m. Anytime now he was to meet Lieutenant Ana Lucia Cortina. Anger riffled at the edges of Jake’s tiredness. He didn’t want any damn woman being his commanding officer. Compressing his lips into a thin line, he sipped the fragrant and delicious mocha latte that Patrick had made for him while he waited for his contact.

Out the large windows to his left, he could see the main street of Agua Caliente, which meant “hot water,” and the busy, bustling plaza beyond. The women, who were dressed in colorful skirts that hung to their ankles looked like bright tropical birds to Jake. Their hair was braided and they wore dark brown felt hats. The Peruvian men were more modern looking, although the Que’ro men wore bright red leggings and pointed, heavily beaded white caps with ear flaps. There were plenty of well-fed mongrels skulking around the plaza looking for scraps.

The plaza was rectangular, with a Catholic church of gray and black granite stonework at one end. Tourist shops that sold T-shirts, alpaca sweaters and other items, and a number of other restaurants, completed the square. Even out here, in what Jake considered the middle of nowhere, there was a pizza place! Inka pizza. With a shake of his head, he grinned a little. Amazing. Free enterprise flourished vibrantly here in Agua Caliente, from what he could see.

He heard faint footsteps on the mahogany stairs. Lifting his head, Jake set the china cup down in its saucer. He waited. It had to be Lieutenant Cortina. A hundred questions whirled through his fatigued mind. He had a black-and-white faxed photo of her, a profile shot of her in U.S. Army uniform—not really a good likeness due to the transmission difficulties of telephone lines between Peru and the U.S. Would she be a hard-ass? One of those strong, competitive women types that were in the army now? Probably.

He saw a woman, her hair black and slightly wavy as it fell around her shoulders, peek above the second floor landing. She was darkly tanned, her coloring shouting of her Peruvian heritage. Jake sucked in a breath as she turned her head and continued up the stairs, her slender hand on the rail. As she turned her oval face toward him, her cinnamon-colored eyes settled questioningly upon his. Her lips were slightly parted as if in anticipation. She looked nothing like the faxed photo of her in uniform. She was beautiful.

Without thinking, Jake rose to his feet. It was part of his officer’s training to stand when in the presence of a lady. Still, he felt no woman was up to the job that lay ahead of them. Countering his irritation over Morgan’s decision, he moved around the table and pulled out the chair next to his as she hesitated at the top of the stairs, looking at him. She was dressed in dark green canvas shorts, well-worn and badly nicked hiking boots, a red T-shirt that said Machu Picchu, and she wore a dark green knapsack across her shoulders. Her hair, slightly curled by the humidity, softly caressed her small breasts. Her cheeks were flushed and gave her wide, intelligent eyes even more emphasis, if that were possible.

Jake’s gaze moved to her mouth. What a beautiful one she had. Her lips were full, the lower lip slightly pouty and provocative looking. A mouth made for sin. A mouth made to stir any man’s fantasies. She wore absolutely no makeup, but she didn’t have to, in Jake’s opinion. He liked women au naturel, and she was all of that.

“Are you…?” he began awkwardly, holding out his hand. Somehow, he wished she wasn’t his team partner. She was too beautiful, too feminine looking, in his judgment, to qualify for such a risky venture.

Ana smiled shyly as she stood there, her hand resting tentatively on the curved mahogany banister. “Jake Travers?” She saw him scowl as his gaze assessed her. He practically stripped her naked with his eyes. It wasn’t a sexual thing, either. Ana could feel his unhappiness toward her. Like most men, he probably thought a woman couldn’t do a “man’s” job. Girding herself, she tried to coolly return his raking gaze, which was filled with judgment because she was a woman.

His name rolled off her lips like a lover’s caress. Jake felt his skin tighten. Hell, he felt his lower body grow hot. Her soft, alto voice was like a cat’s tongue licking him sinuously. He managed a curt nod. “Yeah, I’m Jake Travers. You Ana Cortina?” He sounded snarly. He felt that way.

She smiled softly and allowed his glare to glance off her. “Yes,” she answered, shrugging the knapsack from her shoulders as she moved forward. How different Jake looked in real life! Ana felt her heart skipping beats, and she felt unreasonably elated at seeing him in person even if he didn’t want her company. Jake was dressed in tan chinos, hiking boots, a black polo shirt that outlined the massiveness of his chest and emphasized his tightly muscled arms and broad shoulders. His hair was dark brown and cut military short. There was a slight curl to it, which gave him a less rigid look. His face was square, with a stubborn, pronounced chin. His lower lip was fuller than his upper one. Most of all, she liked his thick, dark brown brows, which lay straight across his forehead, just above his glacial blue eyes.

She sensed his uncertainty as she approached. He even tried to smile, and her heart warmed to him immediately and without good reason. She saw surprise in his eyes, anger, and something else she couldn’t quite decipher. “Thank you,” she whispered breathlessly as she sat down and placed the knapsack at her feet. His hand barely brushed her shoulder as he released the back of her chair. Instantly, her skin tingled. His hand was rough and callused. Ana watched as he took his chair and sat down next to her. When he scooted it forward, his knee accidentally grazed hers.

“Sorry,” he muttered gruffly. Jake quickly moved the chair back so they wouldn’t make physical contact.

“Don’t be,” Ana murmured. She turned and saw Isidro, a Que’ro waiter, coming in their direction. He had worked for Patrick for years and was more like family to India Feliz than an employee. As he approached their table, Isidro, who was unfailingly polite, but equally shy, bowed his head and murmured a heartfelt greeting to her in Quechua, but did not meet her eyes.

Ana welcomed him warmly and ordered a mocha latte. Isidro bowed and quickly went behind the bar to the left of them to make her drink. She turned, placed her elbows on the linen tablecloth and met Jake’s eyes as he assessed her with more than a little anger and some curiosity. The dark shadow of beard on his face gave him the lethal look of a warrior, Ana decided.

“Well? Do I meet with your approval?” she asked lightly.

Taken aback by her bluntness, Jake sat up straight and scowled. Ana had accurately read his mind. Shaken, he muttered, “That remains to be seen. I’m not happy about any woman being on this mission.” Inwardly, he chastised himself for sounding grumpy and defensive. He saw shadows beneath her shining, smiling eyes and wondered if she was tired. She looked it.

Ana decided not to reply to his comment directly. She felt his tension and wariness toward her. “You were staring at me, Mr. Travers. Here in Peru, it’s considered insulting to stare. Just so you know in future, because where we’re going, we’ll be talking to a lot of Quechua people in order to try and track down your sister. You might as well get steeped in our customs now, rather than later.”

Though he was smarting beneath her gentle remonstration, Jake realized he liked her low, unruffled tone more than he should. At least Lieutenant Cortina knew how to slap a person’s hand gently instead of gigging them with anger and an undiplomatic word or two. He longed to reach out and slide his fingers through her hair. The thought caught him by complete surprise. She certainly was beautiful with that thick, ebony cloak of hair about her shoulders. He had noticed she stood at around five feet ten inches tall and she had meat on her bones, wide hips and long legs. The sense of steel and strength that surrounded her was palpable. There was nothing obvious about her being a combat helicopter pilot; indeed, she looked like a tourist except for the color of her skin, which made her look decidedly Peruvian.

“I’ll do my best to fit in,” he mumbled.

Chuckling, Ana lifted her head as Isidro brought her drink on a silver tray. She thanked him effusively and he waited for their food order. She turned to Jake. “Hungry?”

He was. How did she know? Her eyes sparkled and she looked as if she knew him inside out. That bothered him. Rubbing his flat, hard stomach, he said, “Yeah, I’m like a starving bear.”

Laughing, Ana said, “Or maybe a starving condor, down here. Do you like fresh trout? It’s the specialty of the house. Patrick sends Isidro down to the Urubamba River, just a quarter of a mile from here, to fish every morning.”

Jake nodded. “Then it’s really fresh.” He liked the warmth that glimmered in Ana’s eyes. There was no hardness evident in her, just soft, inviting feminine energy. He began to relax a little, glad that she wasn’t going to come at him with brute force, like some women in the military might. But that same softness made an alarm go off inside him. She couldn’t possibly be up to the task ahead of them. She’d be a liability.

“Want to risk some local food?” Ana challenged him. She liked the way he was slowly releasing that hard outer shell. She saw a bit of hope burning in his light blue eyes. His mouth was softening at the corners, too. Good. Ana felt his nervousness and tension. Maybe it was from the five-hour flight down here. Or maybe he was overwhelmed with worry about his sister. It could be all those things, and Ana was more than willing to let his gruffness and growliness slide off her shoulders.

“Yeah. Why not?” Wincing inwardly, Jake didn’t even like himself right now. He was really being nasty toward her and she’d been the epitome of warmth and welcome. Sometimes he was a real bastard.

“Trucha, it is,” she said, and gave Isidro their order. The waiter smiled shyly and left.

Trucha, Jake knew, was Spanish for trout. Every time Ana looked at him, he felt a little more of his nagging worry dissolving. As she delicately sipped the mocha latte, he saw an expression of enjoyment cross her face.

“Mmm, you have no idea how much I look forward to a little R and R here at Patrick’s restaurant. And if his bed and breakfast is full, I stay at Gringo Bill’s Hostel just across the plaza. Margarieta Kaiser is the owner and opens her arms to us. She knows how to take care of a war-weary soul.”

“From what I understand, you’re on a wartime footing at the base you fly out of all the time.”

Ana nodded. She set the cup down and curved her slender fingers around it. “Yes, we are.” She lifted her head and held his frank gaze. “And doing this is a very nice departure from my daily duties.” Sobering, she added quietly, “I’m very sorry to hear about your sister, Mr. Travers….”

“Call me Jake, will you?” He wanted to keep her at arm’s length, but somehow, it wasn’t working. A less formal atmosphere might make up for his growly attitude, he hoped.

She brightened. “Okay…you can call me Ana. All right?”

“No problem.” And it wouldn’t be at all for Jake. She was going to do away with military formality and that was just fine with him. He was mesmerized by the graceful movements of her hands. She was like a ballet dancer, not a combat pilot. He wrestled with the two disparate images and simply could not fit them together. Picturing her in the front seat of a deadly Boeing Apache was hard to do. Still, Jake could see her warrior side in her eyes. They were alert and missed nothing. She might be able to fight in the sky, but on the ground? No, he didn’t think she was cut out for this mission at all.

“So, tell me about your sister, Jake. Do you have a photo of her?”

He reached into his back pocket and drew out his wallet. “Yeah, right here.” He pulled it out and laid it on the table for her to look at.

“Oh, she’s very pretty,” Ana murmured as she studied the photo. Her eyes crinkled and she looked over at him. She saw grief burning in his eyes instead of the glowering anger she’d seen there before. “You’re a very handsome brother and sister.”

Heat trailed up his neck. Jake was blushing. Avoiding her teasing look, he paid attention to his latte and took a huge, scalding gulp. Ana Lucia Cortina was rattling him in ways he’d never anticipated. She was beautiful. Drop-dead gorgeous, with long, fine legs, a husky, warming laugh that went through him like fine whiskey, loosening him up, relaxing his knotted gut and making his heart pound and jump in his chest whenever she shared that intimate look with him. All of that told him she would be excess baggage on this mission. A pretty bauble, nothing more—and a definite liability.

“Tal’s the beauty. I’m more the frog in the pond compared to her,” Jake managed to reply uncomfortably.

Ana grinned. “You’re very modest. How wonderful. In a norteamericano that is a plus.” She laughed gently so as not to offend him. His cheeks had turned a dusky red color and Ana realized he was blushing. That made her like him even more, and assured her her heart was right: she’d intuited a special sensitivity in Jake and she hadn’t been wrong. Not many military men she knew blushed. And it was comforting to her that Jake had that capacity. Maybe he wasn’t going to be hard to work with after all—even if she was his boss.

Chapter Three

“So, your sister was working in the village of Huayllabamba when she was taken?” Ana opened up a small map and spread it across the table. They’d just eaten their fill of the pink-fleshed trout, and Isidro had cleared all the dishes away.

Jake’s knee accidentally brushed Ana’s as he sat forward to study her map. Again. He moved it. His left elbow splayed out on the linen tablecloth and brushed her right arm. He moved it. Somehow, his emotions, his yearnings and his worry for his sister were all becoming jumbled up inside him in one large, confused ball of sensitized nerves. Every time Ana looked at him, he melted inwardly. Her eyes were so full of life, laughter and kindness. He could feel her compassion toward him over Tal’s disappearance. It wasn’t an act. She understood. Still, Jake held his feelings in check. Just because she showed him a little warmth and compassion didn’t mean she was suited for this mission.

“Yes,” he muttered, scowling as he angled his chair so he wouldn’t keep bumping her. Touching Ana was a delicious and unexpected gift to Jake. He hadn’t expected to be drawn so powerfully to Ana especially now, with Tal’s life on the line. “I talked to the executive vice president of the Wiraqocha Foundation and she said Tal was going to be working with six different villages, looking for water and the best place to sink a well for each. Huayllabamba was the third village on her list. That’s where she disappeared.”

“I see,” Ana murmured. She tried to ignore the pleasant tingles on her knee and arm where Jake had accidentally brushed her. The turmoil in his pale blue eyes told her he was stressed and worried.

Tracing the black lines on the map with her slender index finger, Ana said, “This is a map of Machu Picchu and Rainbow Valley area. They are inseparable. The neck of the valley spills into the jungle, dropping from fourteen thousand to six thousand feet to intersect with the Machu Picchu Reserve. A reserve is like a national park—it’s a protected area.”

She tapped the map with her finger. “See this? It is our railroad—our lifeline, the only way to get in and out of Machu Picchu from Rainbow Valley, unless you want to fly in or out by helicopter.” Her eyes crinkled and she looked up and met Jake’s attentive gaze.

A sheet of warmth spread through her. Did she see longing in his eyes? Impossible. Ana decided she was more starved for a man’s company than she’d realized. That was all it was, she told herself silently. Just an instant attraction that would dissolve as quickly as it had sparked between them. He was still grousing whenever he found an opportunity, insisting that no woman should be on a mission like this, but she ignored his grumbling.

“We can take the train from the depot down the street to Kilometer 88. The train stops there briefly every day. We can get off, then cross the mighty Urubamba River by foot, on a rope bridge to the other side. There we can pick up the Inka Trail and head toward Huayllabamba. The trail parallels another river, Rio Cusichaca. We’ll be climbing from six thousand to nine thousand feet in order to reach Huayllabamba. What was the next village on her route?”

Jake unfolded a piece of paper from his pocket and spread it open. “Here’s her full itinerary. Most of the place names I can’t even pronounce.”

Laughing softly, Ana studied the handwritten list. “Hmm, after Huayllabamba, she was to go to Paucarcancha and then Pulpituyoc, where there is a temple site. These are all located along the Inka Trail.”

“What is the Inka Trail?”

Ana lifted her head. She saw Jake frowning as he intently studied the route she’d laid out. “It was created hundreds of years ago by the Inkas as a path between Rainbow Valley and Machu Picchu. Both places were important centers to the Inka empire. It’s made up of carefully cut stones that have been placed on a path about a meter wide. The stones are about the size of a modern-day brick, usually, but there are larger ones, too.”

“A lot of labor went into it, then,” Jake said. He liked the way Ana’s mouth moved. The corners naturally flexed upward; that told him she laughed and smiled a lot. More and more of his tension and anxiety were dissolving beneath her very capable manner and her gentleness. Again, Jake found it tough to imagine Ana being a combat helicopter pilot. But then, he also admitted he didn’t have a clue about the complex makeup of any woman. Especially someone like Ana. Still, he was powerfully drawn to her and wanted to know more about her on a personal level. The mission was in the way, though. And his heart was with Tal. He had no business being even mildly curious about Ana as a woman.

Chuckling, Ana said, “You could say that. So, do we have a plan? We’ll get our gear in order and hop the train?” She looked at her watch. “It’s a little after noon. There’s one leaving in about twenty minutes, and we can make that if we walk fast. The train station is about a half a mile from here. Ready?”

Jake nodded and stood. He automatically went over and pulled out the chair for Ana. She blushed beautifully over his courtly manners. He liked the slumberous quality he saw in her cinnamon eyes as she rose.

“Thank you, Jake. That was very unexpected and kind of you.”

He grinned a little shyly. “Chivalry isn’t dead, after all,” he murmured, shrugging on his pack. “White knights still exist. At least, in the form of a U.S. Army officer.” He saw Ana place her pack on her chair and open it up. She withdrew a beautiful handwoven scarf of brilliant rainbow colors. Placing it around her neck, she knotted it gently so that it hung between her breasts.

“That’s beautiful. What is it?”

Ana closed her knapsack. When she started to put it across her shoulders, Jake quickly picked it up and held it so that she could easily slide her arms through it. His fingers brushed her shoulder. Her skin tingled. “Thank you,” she said a little breathlessly. As she headed for the stairs, she said, “It’s my chalina. I don’t know if they told you of my background,” she said, taking the stairs quickly, with Jake fast on her heels. “I was born in Ollytatambu, at the end of Rainbow Valley. My mother is of the Que’ro bloodline, the last of the Inkas. She is a laykka, a healer. And when I was growing up, she taught me to weave, as all daughters are taught the art.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Ana waved goodbye to Patrick and moved out of the restaurant and down the concrete walk toward the main thoroughfare of Agua Caliente. It was glutted with tourists from around the world. Jake quickly caught up to her and walked at her shoulder, his head cocked toward her as she continued to talk.

“Every teenage girl makes her own chalina. They are always of rainbow colors because my people believe the rainbow is the two-headed snake of creation.” She picked up the flowing end of the woven alpaca. “When a young Quechua woman decides that she is ready for a sexual relationship and marriage, she wears this. It is a sign that she will consider an offer from a young man of her choice. When she finds the man she wants to love, she will place the scarf about his neck and let him know that she wants to commit to a long, serious relationship with him. If the young man accepts, then they go off and consummate their relationship. Afterward, they visit each of the parents’ homes and tell them of their commitment to one another. Both families must approve of their intention.”

Jake raised his brows. They moved quickly down the concrete highway, weaving in and out of the heavy human traffic. On either side, one-and two-story homes stood. Natives dressed in colorful clothing walked in the crowds selling T-shirts, jewelry and other tourist items. “I don’t think your tradition would get very far in the States.”

Ana laughed pleasantly. She absorbed Jake’s interest and attention. She had just spent a year without any male company and was beginning to understand how starved she’d become for conversation with the opposite sex. Men and women were different, and she enjoyed those differences. “Maybe it should. At least we are more open and honest about wanting to love another person.” She patted the chalina gently as it swayed back and forth with her quick stride. “We don’t sneak around, either. It’s a very open, aboveboard signal. No guesswork.” She grinned. “And it puts the emphasis on long-term commitment. This is not a roll in the hay, as I suspect you think.”

Jake had the good grace to blush. “I didn’t say that.” By now they were crossing the plaza. Every town in Peru, he understood, had one. It was a central meeting place for the entire community and was bordered on all four sides by buildings. The cathedral was made out of gray and black granite stones, all carefully cut and laid. A testament to Inka ingenuity and skill, the stone wall was smooth and beautiful looking.

“Knowing what I know of norteamericanos,” Ana said impishly, “your people have very puritan views of human sexuality and sensuality. Down here in South America, we honor a woman’s beauty in every way, and we also embrace our sexuality as well. It’s not a taboo or dirty thing to be hidden or be ashamed of. And we don’t go around rutting like sheep, either. The Que’ro way of using the chalina signals openly a young woman’s desire. Before that, she has not had sex with anyone. So you see, it’s a very monogamous ideal and has tradition at the heart of it.”

Jake nodded. “I can see that. So is that why you are wearing it?” They moved through the square and down a hard-packed dirt slope. On his left was the roaring Urubamba River, on his right, several government buildings painted salmon and robin’s-egg blue. As they reached the bottom of the hill, Ana led him up another hill that was lined with stalls and sellers. Up ahead, he saw the train station.

“I wear it because it is a sign that I am a local. I am not a gringo. When we go into this village and I speak in Quechua to the people to try and find out information about your sister, they’ll not mistake me for an outsider.” She dug the toes of her leather boots into the hard dirt road and moved quickly toward the train station. There was a large roofed-in area, and two trains sitting on the tracks. A concrete slab provided a place for passengers to rest their luggage before boarding.

At the train office, Ana bought two tickets, handing over the soles, the Peruvian currency, necessary for the purchase. She turned and gave Jake his ticket. “We have to hurry….” she said a little breathlessly, and jogged around the building toward the first train. Jake hurried after her. They hopped on board. Ana spotted the last two seats available, in the back. As he moved toward the seat, Jake noticed the train was filled with tourists from many nations. After placing his and Ana’s packs in the overhead metal rack, he sat down beside her. Room was sparse and he was large. There was a European couple speaking German next to them, so he squeezed his bulk in, right against Ana. He had no choice. She didn’t seem to mind his nearness. Like a hungry wolf, Jake secretly absorbed her tall, firm body and the warmth of her skin against his. He shouldn’t enjoy it so much, he told himself sternly, under the circumstances.

The train jerked and started. It slowly began to leave Agua Caliente. Very quickly, it clickety-clacked into the jungle, following the Urubamba. Jake watched as Ana gently fingered the alpaca scarf with her lean, graceful hand. Knowing this wasn’t the time or place to speak of their mission, he decided to ask her personal questions instead. Anyone eavesdropping would not be any the wiser.

“So, you come from a Que’ro family? A family of healers?”

Ana enjoyed his strength and warmth against her. It was a good thing Jake couldn’t read her mind, because she was absorbing his very male energy into herself and her heart. How she missed talking with a man! She hadn’t realized how much until now. Before, she’d had Roberto, whom she met at least once a month for a weekend down in Lima, and they would chatter like two parrots to one another about so many things. Ana was now beginning to understand just how much she missed him. And when she saw the burning sincerity in Jake’s pale blue eyes, she knew she would lap up each moment of his attention like a cat being served a warm saucer of milk.

“My mother’s family has owned land in Rainbow Valley for generations. They are campesinos, farmers, close to the land and to Pachamama.”

“Pachamama?”

She smiled fondly. “Peruvian for Mother Earth. My people have a mystical and spiritual connection to all of nature.” Ana pointed upward at the green hills. “In a little while, you will see a beautiful apu, a mountain with a living spirit who resides in it. We believe that the apus are powerful guardians and keepers of our ways. Each morning, I was taught to take three perfectly formed dried coca leaves and blow into them, to honor our local apus. I would then bury the coca leaves in the soft, warm earth. It is called the Andean way, today. And it’s about honoring Mother Earth, all of nature—living in sync with them, not against them.”

“It sounds like your people have a very spiritual tie to the earth.” He saw the passion in her eyes as she spoke of what she believed in. Jake could almost see Ana sliding her long, slender fingers into the warmth of the dark, fertile earth. Just that thought sent heat tunneling through his lower body. How he’d like to be touched like that. The thought was unbidden. Moist. Full of promise. Frowning, he wondered what spell Ana was casting over him.

“Is this your first time to Peru, Jake?”

“Yes.”

“I see…. The people who farm are known as campesinos, as I said. I come from such stock, although my father is a very rich businessman, an art collector and dealer. He met my mother when he was in the Rainbow Valley looking for woven textiles to put in his galleries in Cusco and Lima.” Ana lifted her chalina and said softly, “He fell in love with my mother’s beautiful weaving ability, but even more with her. They called her the Inkan princess because she was so beautiful. All the campesinos said that she would one day give her chalina to a very rich lord. Her beauty was such that in the old days of the Inka empire, a woman like her would be taken to Cusco, to the main temple, to marry a nobleman.”

Fingering the scarf gently, Ana said, “It’s such a beautiful story that I love to tell it. My father bought every blanket my mother had ever woven. He came back every month on the pretense of seeing how she was coming on future textiles for his galleries. Here in Peru, when a man wants to court a woman and she has not given him her chalina, he may come and serenade her with song. My father, Eduardo, played the charango, an Andean mandolin made of wood, and he would sing to her as she wove on the porch of her home.

“And, over a year’s time, with visits each month, my father would talk endless hours with my mother about so many, many things. He was a city dweller, and she was tied to Pachamama and the ways of her people. He respected her for that and didn’t want to change her at all. One day, when he arrived, he brought her a doll.” Ana’s eyes sparkled as she looked over at Jake, who was hanging on every huskily spoken word.

Surprised, he said, “A doll? A man brings the woman he loves a doll?”

Ana laughed, her teeth white and even. “It’s a special doll, Jake. Around the doll’s neck was a letter with all his credentials written down on it. He told of his heritage, his family, of his financial worth, of what he owned and most of all, how he felt toward my mother. The man speaks of love in that letter, and what he will do to always honor the woman he loves, care for her and their children. He writes of his dream, his hope, for their future.”

“Well? What happened when your mother saw the doll?”

Ana grinned. “My mother was not one to fall head over heels for anyone. She’s a very practical person. You see—” Ana gestured toward the window and the hills covered in jungle growth above them “—if you are a campesino, you are hard-working, practical and sensible. My mother took the doll, thanked him and told him to go away. That he could come back in a month if he wanted.”

“The poor guy,” Jake murmured. “That was a little heavy-handed, wasn’t it? He’d come all the way from Cusco with this doll? And he’d probably written his heart out on that paper and she just airily told him to take a walk?”

Chuckling indulgently, Ana whispered wickedly, “She wasn’t turning him down, Jake. It is part of the elaborate ceremony, the dance between two people. She was testing his mettle, his desire to really be serious and responsible toward her. If he came back, then that would tell her of his commitment to her.”

“Obviously, he came back.”

Ana’s smile widened and her eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes. And I was the result.” She patted her heart region gently. “A very much loved gift to them.”

“You have any other sisters and brothers?”

“No, I’m an only child. My mother wished for more, but as a laykka, she had a dream, and in it, a female Apu spirit told her that her creation energy would be funneled into helping cure the sick and ailing. This she understood, so she was complete with me.”

“And your father? I’ll bet he dotes on you.”

Nodding her head, she whispered, “I love them both, so very much. I really honor my dad, who came and lived at my mother’s family home. He ran his businesses from Rainbow Valley because in his letter to my mother, he swore to never take her from the land that had created her. He saw how very much she was attached to Pachamama and he in no way wanted her unhappy. He knew she’d never survive in a city environment. I love him so much for that.”

“So, you grew up a farm girl?” Jake smiled, thinking of her as a young girl planting and harvesting crops seasonally in Rainbow Valley. He could see the earthiness in Ana. He felt it. She was hotly sensual, a quality radiating from her like the sun that gave life to all things. He liked the softness of her expression as he asked the question. The gentle rocking of the train car created a comforting motion, almost like being in someone’s arms.

“My hands were in the earth, my head in the sky, as my mother used to say.”

“And where did you get this urge to fly?” Jake wondered.

Her eyes grew merry. “I’ll tell you a story you probably won’t believe, but it’s true. When I was three years old I remember running through the freshly dug furrows of our fields where the campesinos were working, my arms outstretched, trying to ‘fly.’ Well, one day I ran to the end of the field, which had yet to be plowed by our oxen. My mother was out with the rest of the women, feeding the men at lunchtime when it happened.” Ana’s voice grew low with emotion.

“Out of nowhere, four condors landed only a few feet away from me. I remember this incident. And I remember my mother walking slowly and quietly up to where I was standing and gawking at these huge, beautiful birds. She leaned down and whispered to me to talk to them. I remember waving my arms and saying, ‘I want to fly! I want to fly with you!”’

Jake grinned. “Incredible. Do condors usually land that close to people?”

“No.” Ana laughed. “Just the opposite. They live in the high, craggy and inaccessible spots deep in the Andes, where no people can reach them. They avoid humans.”

“Then this was important?” Jake guessed.

Closing her eyes and leaning back against the dark green, plastic seat, Ana sighed. “Oh, yes, very important. My mother, being a laykka, understood its importance. As soon as I said ‘I want to fly,’ the four condors took off after lumbering quite a distance and flapping their wings. It’s very hard for them to land on flat earth and then to take off from it. Usually, they’ll land on a high crag, leap off it and float on the updrafts created. I stood there crying as they left, and my mother picked me up and held me. She said I would learn to fly like them, that although my heart belonged to Pachamama, my spirit belonged to the condors, the guardians of the air.”

Ana pulled out a leather thong from beneath her T-shirt, on one end of which was a small golden disk. In a lowered tone, she told him, “In here is part of the feather of the condor that was left behind from their visit with me. My mother picked up the feather, bought the locket and placed it inside. She told me it was my medicine, my protection, and to never be without it.”

“And you wear it to this day?”

“Always.” Ana slanted a glance at his serious face as she slipped the locket back beneath her T-shirt. “You don’t look at me like I’m loco. Crazy. Why? Most norteamericanos would roll their eyes and call what I just told you ridiculous, say that it couldn’t happen.”

Shrugging, Jake studied her thoughtful, upturned face. Her eyes were so warm and alive, the color of rich, recently turned soil. “Maybe because I’m a farmboy from Iowa? My parents have a huge corn and soybean farm, and I grew up with dirt under my nails just like you did.” He watched her eyes widen beautifully. His heart wrenched. There was such an incredible array of emotions that raced across Ana’s vulnerable features, and he could read each one. He was amazed at her openness and accessibility. And then it struck him that Ana trusted him. Deeply. Shaken by that discovery, he found himself wanting to open up to her more, too. But could he? Did he dare? No, he was afraid to because of his hurting, scarred past. Besides, he had to hold back. Had to remember he had been teamed up with her to complete a mission he didn’t think she—or any woman—was capable of.

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