Dressed in a white hotel bathrobe, Christian forced himself to go through Jasmine's stuff, a necessity that hit him hard. He couldn't get his head wrapped around Jasmine being gone. Here today, gone the next, he wanted to believe life and the human spirit meant more than that. The thought that it might not lurked in his mind and twisted his gut. He felt an obligation to find out what happened to Jasmine. He owed her that much.
Strange too. Somehow, he felt certain she'd do the same for him.
Christian had left Raven in his room, packing a rucksack they'd share tomorrow. The chore wouldn't take long, but he wanted to give her space. Quiet prep time allowed each of them to grapple with the reality of what tomorrow might bring. Death was the silent partner they dealt with each and every day. For Raven, murder was part of her job as a homicide detective. But for him, death had entrenched itself into the emotional baggage he would carry the rest of his life.
Still, as he saw it, a guy comes into this world alone and he goes out the same way. No sugarcoating required. He could deal with his own death, but the thought of something happening to Raven ripped him apart. A wave of serious second thoughts hit him until he put things in perspective.
Raven had followed him to Brazil out of love. How could he argue with that? He would've done the same. She was a headstrong woman with a mind of her own, one of her more endearing qualities—and one of the reasons she put up with him.
As a cop, she faced dangerous situations all the time. Her badge put her in the line of fire. When he started this relationship with her, he knew he'd have to deal with that fact or leave. He chose to stick it out and treat each day with Raven as a gift. The alternative would be living in a vacuum, without risking his heart. He'd been there . . . done that.
Until now, when dealing with Raven's line of work, that reasoning had done the trick. But Zharan's words still resonated with him. If he left Raven behind and Duarte took her into 'custody,' he would never forgive himself. He couldn't take the chance.
In the end, he didn't want Raven out of his sight.
'Okay . . . that's it,' he muttered under his breath.
Every weapon in Jasmine's gear bag had been tossed onto the mattress for his closer inspection. The woman sure knew how to pack. And with what he brought, Raven should have plenty to choose from. Christian stuffed the essentials into a small day pack and locked away the rest. He left Jasmine's room, carrying the bag with him.
But when he got to his bedroom door, he stopped cold. Slowly, he laid the pack on the floor near his bare feet. Raven had been busy all right, but it was not what he expected to see.
The bank of recessed lights in his room had been turned to a soft glow and she'd moved every candle in the suite to the bedroom. They flickered and cast soft shadows on the walls. And no one looked better in candlelight than Raven. Her dark hair shone auburn strands, reflecting the warmth of the flames and the blush of her cheeks.
'Dear Lord,' he whispered his thanks, finding it hard to catch his breath. Very hard.
She smiled, a tender yet seductive lure. The pale light accentuated her perfect skin, velvet soft like a rose petal at dawn. And she lay naked under his blankets with nothing but a crisp white bed sheet over her breasts and down the length of her body. He had never conjured up a wet dream as flawless as Raven Mackenzie . . . and never would.
Still spellbound and unable to move, he licked his lips, taking everything in.
'Hey you, those lips are mine and I need my fix.' She pulled back the bed covers on his side and patted the mattress, gesturing for him to join her. A lusty smile on her face.
Christian hooked a thumb under the belt to his robe and tugged. He shrugged out of one shoulder, then the other, and let the robe drop to the floor. Every move, every action, was foreplay. He didn't want to rush it. Using every ounce of willpower, he took his time making his way toward the bed, not taking his gaze off her. He loved the way her eyes traveled the length of his body, and he savored the moment. When she saw his erection, her smile faded, replaced by hungry need.
'You've been busy.' Christian conjured an inspired grin. 'Now I've got all night to return the favor.'
Dawn
Outside Cuiaba
Day eight
A molten sun cast its fire across clouds that streaked the parting night sky. Soft billows absorbed the color, borrowing from the marvel of sunrise—an inverted and undulating sea of red. Truly breathtaking. The vivid hue washed over the interior of the vehicle, bathing Christian in its fire. In awe, he watched the rising sun and drank in the beauty of this land as he felt the shape of the talisman Bianca had given him, the soft pouch under his shirt. Ever since he first put the trinket on, the weight of it never let him forget he wore it over his heart. Strange as it was, he couldn't bring himself to leave it behind. Not today.
Along the horizon, the backdrop of the skyscraper city, Cuiaba, stood in dark silhouette. A reminder of man's intrusion. Even at dawn with cloud cover, the temperatures were sweltering.
'Bad weather, I'm afraid.' Detective Fuentes drove his unmarked vehicle onto the tarmac of the heliport. Christian sat in the front seat, Raven in the back. 'What is it they say about a red sky?'
'Red sky at morn, sailors be warned.' Even as Christian smiled at the old adage, he smelled humid-
ity thick in the air. Real muggy. 'Good thing we're not navigating by boat.'
The detective shrugged. 'Yes, but we may need one before the day is done.'
'I see your point.'
Up ahead, over a dozen men were hard at work, prepping for the mission. Dressed in camo BDUs with tactical-level body armor, Zharan's men looked like a team on maneuvers, a formidable army. They were equipped with Kevlar helmets and protective goggles, binoculars, extra mag pouches, radios with two-way headsets and ear pieces for stealth. For weapons, he saw everything from short-barreled shotguns and sniper-scoped M-14 rifles to shoulder-fired grenade launchers and H&K MP5SD submachine guns with suppressors.
Christian had read about Brazil's military police force being armed with military-grade weapons, trained in counterinsurgency tactics, and armed with machine guns and armored cars—a necessity in a war zone filled with drug smugglers and arms dealers who were better equipped.
Between the drug traffickers, gangs, and the well-armed police, he wondered about the civilian population caught in the middle, but shoved the thought from his mind. The men here today would risk their lives to rescue his father and right an injustice. Enforcing the law brought order to chaos. That had to be enough.
Two Bell 412EP helicopters were the focus of the activity up ahead, metal gray with green and white stripes down the fuselage and on the rear rotor, colors of the Brazilian flag. Each looked to hold up to fifteen men.
'Helicopters?' Christian asked. 'How far are we going?'
Detective Fuentes pulled up to a group of vehicles and parked. 'It's not how far exactly. Our target is accessible by road, for the most part, but we would lose our element of surprise and run the risk of ambush. I will let my chief explain the details. You understand this, no?'
'Yes, of course.' Christian opened the door and got out of the car, Raven sliding out on his side of the vehicle. Nervous tension colored her eyes, no matter how much she tried to brush it off. She carried the rucksack, but Christian took it from her and hoisted it on his shoulder before heading toward the man in charge.
'Be sure to get medical supplies in each aircraft. And extra water bottles and batteries,' Chief Zharan said, raising his voice, pointing to one of his men loading the far helicopter. When he saw Christian and Raven, accompanied by Detective Fuentes, he joined them halfway, shaking hands with them.
'Good morning. We are just about loaded.' The man narrowed his eyes and shifted his focus between them. 'I have rain ponchos and tactical body armor for your protection. I take it you have your own
