No One Lives Forever

'Time for phase two.' Christian stood at Jasmine's bedroom door and gestured with a wave of his hand. At the small of his back, under his shirt, he carried a Glock 19 that Jasmine had held for him in her black duffel. 'You're coming with me.'

He interrupted her as she hung a blouse in the closet, emptying her suitcase. By the looks of things, the woman donated her fair share of dollars to the bottomless coffers of designers everywhere. And Lord only knew what she stashed in her bags to appease the more lethal side of her nature. Killer couture at its best.

'Where are we going?' she asked.

'I'll know it when I see it. How do you feel about fishing?' He knew she'd hate his cryptic response. The woman liked being in charge. Christian smiled as he ushered her to the door of the suite, under protest.

'I'd sooner go bowling.'

The image of Jasmine in rented shoes, hoisting a Brunswick in one hand and a cold brew in the other, almost made him laugh out loud.

'You know, I might pay good money to see you wage war on tenpins. But no, I've gotta see what fifty thousand in green might buy us. Stir things up.'

To make sure no one bugged the rooms undetected, the woman had set up surveillance with hidden cameras rigged for motion before unpacking her clothes. Given all the high-tech equipment inside the room, he felt sure they'd know if the suite had been tampered with once they returned. But just in case, he stopped outside the hallway door for one last measure.

'Ow.' Jasmine turned around, looking appalled. Rubbing her scalp, she turned to face him. 'What the hell are you doing?'

He held a strand of her hair and dangled it in front of her face, fighting a smirk. Some tough assassin.

She grimaced. 'With all the surveillance gear I've got set up in the room, what good will that do?'

Curiosity replaced annoyance as she watched him hang the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the doorknob and make use of her personal donation to their added security. He wedged the single strand of hair into the crack of the door, above their heads. A small piece hung barely visible.

'An early warning system ... of sorts.'

'I would've expected something a little more high-tech from a guy with your background.'

'Nothing wrong with a low-tech advance warning to give us an edge. After all, if it's good enough for MacGyver, it's good enough for me. What I could've done if I had a gum wrapper and a toothpick.'

'Really?' She raised an eyebrow.

'No.' Christian headed down the corridor.

The woman had no sense of humor.

As they left the main lobby, heading for the street, Christian made a point to catch the eye of the clerk who'd checked them into the hotel earlier. A seed had definitely been planted with the man whose eyes burned Christian's back as he left the hotel.

They grabbed a quick bite at a local street cafe, then killed an hour walking the dark streets of Cuiaba, getting familiar with the city.

At first Christian chose well-lit avenues and crowded thoroughfares. Not hard to find. Even with the late hour, many of the downtown boulevards thrived with action. Along streets lined with palm trees, scooters dodged small sedans and engines revved to a high whine as they blew exhaust into the muggy air. High heels clacked fast on cement sidewalks, accompanied by the low steady rhythm of their male companions, lounge lizards making the rounds bar to bar. Jazz music wafted sultry in the night air, competing with the seductive beat of the samba.

The city had its own tempo. And although traffic fumes and smells hung heavy, an underlying primitive scent refused to be denied. On the edge of civilization, the great rain forest endured, a piece of its heart carved out by man. Christian sensed the wilderness on the outskirts of Cuiaba, and the restless sensation he wanted to forget returned.

'You've grown quiet.' Jasmine broke the silence. 'I understand the demons that haunt you. In that way, we have much in common. More than you know.'

Death was nothing to have in common. Not with her. He had no need to make a connection with Jasmine. He didn't want to like her ... or need to. And he had no faith in the glimpse of humanity she shared with him now, even if there was more to her story.

'There's only one thing we have in common. Let's stay focused on that, shall we?'

If she'd been hurt by his remark, she never let it show. Her face remained a blank slate as she said, 'Yes, for Nicky.'

The damned heat had finally gotten to him, and his manners were the first to go. At least, that's what he told himself, but he didn't feel the need to apologize.

Instead, with great deliberation, he strolled through landscaped parks and stuck to the shadows. Not a wise move for the average tourist, but if anyone followed them, he wanted to draw them out. They walked for another thirty minutes. Still nothing.

Strike one. Self-doubt flashed through his brain as slick as a fastball over home plate.

After stopping to admire far too many monuments and statues, he finally broke the silence. 'Damn it. Thought the reward would pay off, get us a lead, but no one's tailing us.'

'Or perhaps you and I have met our match. Skilled pursuers could still be out there, besting us.' She narrowed her eyes.

'There you go, looking on the bright side again.' He kept his eyes vigilant. 'Quit tryin' to cheer me up.'

'Ah, I forget. The male ego is easily bruised. Forgive my rudeness.' With his glare, she winked without humor. 'Don't worry. Your plan still might work, and your instincts were solid.'

'You're just pissed 'cause the reward wasn't your idea.' He smirked as she slipped her arm in his.

'You might have a point,' Jasmine conceded without a fight. 'Let's head back to the hotel. Something might turn up there. Besides, is it not wise for the fisherman to remain patient?'

'I thought you didn't know much about the sport?'

'Yes, but when luring men, I am an expert.'

He arched an eyebrow at his companion. 'Good point.'

Jasmine's single strand of hair still dangled from the suite door undisturbed. A good news, bad news scenario. Good news, his low-tech advance warning system worked. But when it came to bad news, his heart sank. No one had broken into their hotel suite using the front door.

A strange thing to wish for. Strike two. Damn it.

Christian pulled the Glock 19 from the waistband of his jeans, hiding it from the hotel security cameras in the hallway as he entered the suite, Jasmine at his back. In silence, they split up and searched the rooms, weapons in hand. His heart pumped with adrenaline, the muscles in his arms tense. When they found nothing out of place, Jasmine checked her surveillance equipment. The only motion recorded had been them.

Strike three.

But as he exchanged a look of disappointment with his companion, something caught his eye. Over her shoulder, a light flickered behind drawn sheers.

'What the hell?'

He recognized the danger. It hit the pit of his stomach in a rush, forced him to move.

'Fire ... on the balcony.' He jerked his head, calling to Jasmine as he rushed by her.

Christian ran to the French doors and threw them open, but stopped dead when his eyes found the source of the flame. Even in the stifling heat, a chill raced across his skin. The hair on his neck stood on end. What the hell had his father been into?