No One Lives Forever

'Am I the Asian bitch you referred to, Ricardo?' She narrowed her eyes. If looks could indeed kill, Chief Zharan would be slit cock to gullet with a very dull knife. 'As you can see, Captain Duarte hasn't hurt me. In fact, he's been quite cordial. He made me see that we needed to talk. So I believe there's been a misunderstanding. And I, for one, would like to clear it up with the proper authorities as soon as possible.'

'This is bullshit!' Zharan spat. The man was more than angry. His charges against the captain would never hold up now. Like two gunslingers, Zharan and Duarte glared at each other, waiting for one to blink.

But Jasmine tempered the tension with something else on her mind. Slowly, she walked across the clearing toward Nicholas as if no one else were there. Her stern expression and steely eyes melted as she approached him with each step, replaced by the face of a woman in love. Raven watched the two of them change before her eyes, influenced by a reserved dignity all their own. The amazing transformation in both of them surprised her. Ignoring all the danger, they held each other's gaze. Nothing seemed more important than feeling that first touch of a hand or catching the soft tremble of a lip fighting to hold back the emotion.

Raven glanced over to Christian. He hadn't missed the exchange between his father and Jasmine. He still stood spellbound by it, and that made her smile. Even with a war on the verge of happening, the man Raven loved took the time to witness the quiet reuniting of two lovers.

God, how I love this man!

But no one else noticed Jasmine and Nicholas. With tensions high, Duarte sat on the proverbial powder keg, still trying to diffuse it. He made his point again.

'As for what I want? I'd like for your men to lay down their weapons.' He raised his voice so the men behind Zharan would hear. 'As far as I'm concerned, they were only following orders.'

This caused a stir within the rank and file. Those able to speak English translated for those who couldn't. Duarte's offer swept through the men like a grass fire in high winds.

'Don't make matters worse, Ricardo. Charboneau and his people are foreigners. Killing them would only stir up the American consulate, something our government would frown upon. And who would believe Mario Araujo, a man who had made his living off kidnappings at gunpoint? Advise your men to put down their weapons. We can settle this back in Cuiaba.'

Christian saw the tension mounting in Fuentes and pulled Raven closer. Duarte tried to downplay what lay in store for Zharan, but too much had happened. The captain had no idea of the friction building between Zharan and his top dog. Perhaps Fuentes had much more to lose with everything unraveling. The detective looked like a man faced with a harsh reality and all his options gone.

Once again, Duarte yelled at the top of his lungs, 'Put down your weapons and back away with your hands up!' He repeated his demands in Portuguese.

But Zharan interrupted and countered with his own power play. 'Anyone putting down their weapons will be shot. Do you hear me? ' he screamed, red faced. 'Fuentes? Captain Duarte is an armed fugitive. Take him into custody. If he resists, kill him.'

Most of the men backed off, but a handful near Fuentes reached for their weapons. In the second it took to raise them, a high-pitched whine shrieked through the air. Faint at first, then loud and distinct. It deadened with a sharp final crack. A man standing too close to Fuentes jerked to the right and pitched backward, but not before the back of his head exploded. A sniper with suppressed fire made the sound of silent death hard to forget. Fuentes had moved enough to change his fate.

'Hit the deck!' Christian cried out, and hunched over, covering Raven with his body.

But Jasmine had another agenda. And it had nothing to do with avoiding a fight.

Even as men scrambled for cover, she ignored the risk to protect Nicholas. With a fist, she coldcocked the guy next to Nicky and grabbed the man's Taurus 1911 pistol. She had intended to disarm him and give the weapon to Nicholas, but two more men lunged for them.

She shot one point-blank in the face. His blood spattered her cheek, making her flinch. When she turned, the other man had grappled Nicholas to the ground. They wrestled for a gun, but Nicky was bound in handcuffs. In seconds, it would be over if the bastard got off a shot. Jasmine wouldn't wait for the outcome. She could have shot him in the head, but a muscle spasm might force a nervous reflex in the man's trigger finger. She jammed the Taurus into the waistband of her pants and pulled a knife from a sheath on her belt.

Jasmine knocked off the man's helmet and grabbed his hair. She yanked him back with one hand and gripped the knife hard in the other. In the same motion, she dug the blade deep under the man's ear and twisted it, severing the artery. His warm blood spurt up the knife and sprayed, but at least he released his grip on the gun enough for Nicky to grab it. The dying man clutched his neck and rolled to the ground, his face distorted with fear and pain. In a matter of minutes he would bleed out, but she wouldn't be around to witness it.

Nicky tried to scramble to his feet, ready to do his part, but Jasmine wasn't done doing her duty. She had to get him to safety. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm and hauled him behind one of the choppers, the nearest cover. Her sudden move caught him by surprise. Still off balance, he half-crawled to keep up and not be such a burden. Jasmine didn't have time to slow down. Moving targets were harder to hit.

Nicholas was covered in blood, but she knew it wasn't his. When he was out of the line of fire, she breathed a sigh of relief and prepared to jump back into the fray to help Duarte end this, but something made her stop. For one brief instant, Jasmine stood over Nicky awash in euphoria. She had saved him, had done her job. She smiled, and in response, his expression softened into a crooked grin.

But a shot rang out and took it all away.

She felt a strong punch to her arm and chest. And the left side of her body flushed with heat. A bloom of red erupted on her chest. In shock, she looked down, the pain not yet registered. Her eyes rolled into her head and she collapsed onto Nicky. The blackness swallowed her.

'Nooo!' he cried.

Confined by handcuffs, Nicholas broke her fall as best he could. Once he had her, he gripped her hard to his chest as if he could make it all better by willing it done. He sat rocking her in his arms, his mouth gaped open with an unspoken Why? on his lips.

Nicholas peered around the helicopter that Jasmine had used to protect him. She had shoved him to safety, leaving her in the open, a clear target. Across the clearing, Zharan stood with his gun still aimed.

Nicholas blinked. He wanted to find a gun and shoot the smug bastard, but he only thought of one thing. Stop the bleeding! With his heart hammering in his chest, he laid her to the ground, cradling her head. Jasmine had a faint pulse and was barely breathing. He tore open her blouse and the body armor under it. In a fluke mishap, the bullet went through her arm and into her chest, bypassing her body armor via the armhole. As much as he hated seeing an exit wound, he knew enough to know it went clean through, preferable to a round that expended all its energy inside her.

But no telling how close the bullet had come to her lungs or what arteries were hit. The handcuffs made his work almost impossible. He pressed both wounds, his hands spread as far as they would reach. Shooting and chaos swelled around him, but all he thought about was Jasmine.

Her beautiful face blurred through his tears.

Damn it! She's not dead yet! Anger took control.

'Don't leave me. Not now,' he cried. 'You hear me, Jasmine? Please . . . don't leave me.'

Nicholas blocked out everything. Now, nothing else mattered.

But Christian couldn't say the same.

Beside his father, a sniper round exploded and ripped through the chest of another of Zharan's men. Christian heard it from where he stood. It tore through flesh with a wet beefy sound. The hot smell of blood assaulted his nose, sickening and sweet. By the time the dead man hit the turf, a pool of crimson leaked out from under him, soaking the ground. Ignoring the horror, Christian lunged for the man's handgun.