Lauren threw her arms around him even as they started jogging up the road away from the bridge. Her lips were hot and wet on his. “Ya mind telling me how you managed that?” Her excitement had thickened her Southern accent.
Mercer was a bit stunned by the passion of her greeting but was no less delighted. “Give me just a second.” He switched to French. “Foch,
“Is there a barricade ahead of us, something blocking this road from the highway?”
Mercer frowned. “Those soldiers have probably been alerted by radio already. If we don’t get clear of the road we’ll be caught between them and whoever gets past the loader.”
“
“Yes, I’m still here,” Roddy Herrara said from behind the wheel of the rental truck. “An army vehicle passed by a few minutes ago but you said not to call you.” He’d parked a mile beyond the mine’s access road as ordered by the French lieutenant.
“We’ll be with you in about fifteen minutes. We’re coming in from the jungle so don’t be startled.”
“
Foch led the team off the road and back into the jungle, indicating that Tomanovic should take point. The taciturn Serb was the most skilled at finding the hidden game trails through the bush. Lauren took the slot behind Mercer during the march and even in the dim jungle her position afforded her an unexpected but delightful view. Whenever Mercer stepped over a log or ducked under a branch, his naked backside peeked out from under his stolen shirt. She couldn’t stop her eyes from darting every time it flashed like twin pink moons. His was the cutest tush she’d ever seen, making her blush and want to goose him at the same time. Reaching the truck, she couldn’t resist giving a quiet wolf whistle when Mercer clambered into the van’s enclosed box. He tugged at the tails of his shirt and shot her an embarrassed smirk. The soldiers called a few ribald comments.
Once Mercer and the Legionnaires were tucked into the cargo area, Lauren pulled on a pink shirt she’d borrowed from Carmen Herrara and took her seat next to Roddy. She wiped the greasepaint from her face and tamed her dark hair with a clip. By adding a little garish makeup any passing army vehicle or police car would think the van’s driver had gotten himself a
Roddy Herrara’s House Panama City, Panama
Carmen was asleep on the couch when her husband led Lauren, Mercer, and the Legionnaires through the front door. They entered with the raucous jubilation of a victorious football team. She blinked awake and her cry of happiness that Roddy was home safely woke Miguel and her own children. The tidy room filled with their joy. Gerard, who’d lost part of a finger, received sympathy from her and another round of good-natured teasing from his comrades for being the only casualty. For five minutes there were shouts and cheers and hugs all around. Even Harry, whose idea of a demonstration of affection was not scowling, gave Mercer a slap on the back.
“I owe you for getting me through that.” Mercer spoke over the reverie so just his old friend could hear.
“It was a group effort,” Harry demurred, surprised by the depth of emotion in Mercer’s voice.
“Not for the rescue. For something else I’ll tell you about sometime.”
Like a puppy starved for attention, Miguel tugged at Mercer’s arm, ending the moment and leaving Harry to wonder. “I knew you would come back,” the boy said for the tenth time. His tone was stubborn, as if his earlier doubts hadn’t been his true feelings.
It was little wonder that the trauma of losing his parents had evolved into a fierce devotion to Mercer. He had rescued Miguel from the jungle, made him laugh for the first time since his family was smothered, and brought him to a place of stability where there were other children his own age. Mercer had become a larger-than-life character in the boy’s mind and the thought that his hero would go away like his parents was too much for his fragile emotions. Despite his declaration of faith in Mercer’s return, he clung to him as tightly as he’d ever held anything in his life.
Mercer was not unaware of what he’d become to the boy. Not being a parent didn’t prevent a certain swelling within his chest. For the first time in his life, he knew the feeling a father had when a child looked up to him. He caught Roddy’s eye and a secret thing passed between them. The silent acknowledgment of what a child’s unquestioning love really meant. Mercer envied him.
The reunion moved into the kitchen. The smell of gun-powder and sweat was chased out the window by an electric fan and the aroma of hastily prepared food. Beers were passed around and the seating rearranged to accommodate such a large group. Savoring their success, everyone told stories of their role in the rescue. Mercer’s took the longest to tell. He glossed over the agony he’d endured and still the others hung on every word. His ingenuity at escaping the cell brought a toast from Lieutenant Foch and an offer to join the Legion.
When the stories were done, Carmen Herrara herded her children back to bed. Her attempts to make Miguel follow went unheeded. She understood better than the boy how he needed to be there with Mercer as proof his hero was safe. She let him remain with the adults while she herself went to bed after giving Roddy a tender kiss.
Sensing that the celebration was about to become a strategy session, Foch detailed two of his men to return the rental van to the parking lot they’d stolen it from and sent the other soldier to watch the house’s perimeter. It wasn’t that he feared they’d been followed from the mine, only that what was about to be said was for officers, not enlisted personnel. Gerard’s wounded finger had been tended to in the van, the stump cleaned and bandaged. The painkillers had taken effect so Foch let him sleep on the couch.
The beer was gone. Grudgingly Harry produced his bottle of whiskey and poured a round for everyone.
“You think that’s such a good idea?” Mercer asked, waving his glass at the tiny one Harry had poured for Miguel.
“Are you kidding?” Harry snorted. “My grandfather gave me booze when I was Miguel’s age and look how I turned out.”
“Exactly,” Mercer mocked.
Harry thought about it for a moment, glanced down at his rumpled shirt and stroked the rough stubble on his jaw. “Yeah, you got a point there. Sorry, kid.” He downed Miguel’s little shot and sipped at his own.
Mercer checked his watch and cursed silently when he remembered his torturer had stolen it. The wall clock said it was half past midnight. He’d slept for only an hour in the truck. While his body was exhausted, his mind buzzed with the lingering effects of adrenaline and a whir of ideas that were just now coming into focus. Rather than let everything fade, he knew now was the time to discuss their next moves, not in the morning when the frantic edge had worn off. Around the table, the eyes that met his were equally ready.
All except Harry’s. He had a smugness around him like he already knew all the answers. The octogenarian lit a cigarette, knowing Mercer was watching him. He seemed to savor the anticipation he was creating.
“You have something to say?” Mercer finally asked, knowing Harry was willing to burst before revealing whatever secret he harbored.
From behind a jet of smoke Harry said, “The gravel you found at the container port didn’t come from the mine.” He sat back, ready to accept Mercer’s praise for solving that little mystery. The others also looked to Mercer, waiting for a reaction about what they’d discovered in his absence.
“I know it didn’t.” Mercer’s answer brought startled looks all around.
Harry suddenly deflated. “What? How did you know?”
“I know the gravel didn’t come from there and neither did the gold. That place is no more a gold mine than you are a poster child for clean living. It’s a sham.”
“What are you saying?” Lauren placed her elbows on the table. “We all saw it. It has to be a gold mine. All those men. The equipment. Those big trucks.”
“It’s window dressing,” Mercer stated. “An elaborate stage setting to convince investors and government
