Her Enemy Protector Read online

  A driving Cuban beat pounded through Joe’s body and into her….

  Cari gasped as his hand on the small of her back pressed her close to him. He lifted her against him as he spun around the room, her feet barely skimming the floor.

  “Dizzy?” he murmured into her ear, his breath a hot caress against her neck.

  “Yes. No. Not from dancing,” she managed to get out. He laughed and his thigh rubbed against her intimately, igniting fireworks low in her belly.

  Not fair.

  Cari ran her fingernails across the back of his neck, and abruptly Joe’s eyes blazed and sexual vibes poured off him, hot and thick and possessive. Now that was more like it! All but purring, she leaned into him until his silk shirt caressed her breasts through the flimsy fabric of her dress.

  “Good thing I’m already planning to marry you,” he growled.

  Praise for Cindy Dees

  “Fasten your seat belts! Former AF pilot Cindy Dees takes you on a wild ride packed with nonstop action, hair-raising adventure and blazing romance. The military has never looked so tough—or so sexy.”

  —Bestselling author Merline Lovelace

  “Realistic settings and vivid descriptions…. Her characters are both likeable and fallible.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKclub

  “[Dees] seems born to write this kind of story. Action-packed from beginning to end, The Medusa Project keeps the adrenaline flowing and grips the reader with its compelling storyline.”

  —Writers Unlimited

  Her Enemy Protector

  CINDY DEES

  Books by Cindy Dees

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  *Behind Enemy Lines #1176

  *Line of Fire #1253

  *A Gentleman and a Soldier #1307

  *Her Secret Agent Man #1353

  *Her Enemy Protector #1417

  Silhouette Bombshell

  Killer Instinct #16

  †The Medusa Project #31

  Target #42

  †Medusa Rising #60

  †The Medusa Game #79

  CINDY DEES

  started flying airplanes while sitting on her dad’s lap at the age of three and got a pilot’s license before she got a driver’s license. At age fifteen, she dropped out of high school and left the horse farm in Michigan where she grew up to attend the University of Michigan.

  After earning a degree in Russian and East European Studies, she joined the U.S. Air Force and became the youngest female pilot in its history. She flew supersonic jets, VIP airlift and the C-5 Galaxy, the world’s largest airplane. She also worked part-time gathering intelligence. During her military career, she traveled to forty countries on five continents, was detained by the KGB and East German secret police, got shot at, flew in the first Gulf War, met her husband and amassed a lifetime’s worth of war stories.

  Her hobbies include professional Middle Eastern dancing, Japanese gardening and medieval reenacting. She started writing on a one-dollar bet with her mother and was thrilled to win that bet with the publication of her first book in 2001. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at www.cindydees.com.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 1

  The mansion’s white stucco walls gleamed in the moonlight with false purity as one of two burly men operated an elaborate keypad and handprint recognition system. Carina stood silently between the two men, her eyes flashing silent contempt. Although they tried to pass themselves off as protectors, they were, in fact, her prison guards. Alfredo and Neville were their names, but she called daddy’s pet gorillas Freddie and Neddie, to their everlasting disgust.

  A knock on the door of her apartment in Gavarone’s capital city, St. George, in the wee hours of the morning two weeks ago had turned out to be Neddie, telling her to get dressed and come. Now. Eduardo, her father, had ordered her home to his estate outside the city, and Daddy always got his way.

  As Freddie and Neddie stood back now to let her enter, she glanced up and noticed that the mansion’s adobe-tiled roof was the color of blood tonight. How appropriate was that? She shuddered and took a deep breath. She could do this. Just go inside and play the obedient daughter for one more night. Man, she hated this house and her forced presence in it. Her escape plan had to work. She’d go stark raving mad if it didn’t. And Daddy would never guess that Tony, her openly gay clubbing buddy, had the cajones to help her escape.

  Her rendezvous with him tonight on the dance floor of a nightclub in St. George had gone well. Freddie and Neddie had lurked by the bar like trolls the whole time, never suspecting that she and Tony had put the last touches on their scheme while they gyrated under the strobe lights.

  She’d passed off a wad of her jewelry to Tony. He’d pawn it and buy her a plane ticket from this sleepy little corner of South America to an even sleepier corner of New England. Her older sister, Julia, was there already, hiding from their father. Eduardo would never dream that she’d sentence herself to such a quiet existence. Little did he know that she desperately craved the peace such a place could offer.

  But in Eduardo’s house, it was all about playing the game. Giving him exactly what he expected to see. Truth be told, she’d gotten sick of the party scene years ago. But right now, her constant outings to nightclubs were the only bright spot in her existence. And how lame was that? Thankfully, she’d convinced daddy dearest that if she didn’t make occasional appearances in her regular Gavronese haunts rumors would get started about her. Rumors that would draw media attention to him that he couldn’t afford.

  It was the one chink she’d found in her father’s formidable armor over the years. An international criminal feared on four continents didn’t have too many exploitable weaknesses. But he didn’t like to draw unnecessary attention from the press. Of course, that meant she’d spent the last few years doing everything in her power to draw media attention to herself and, indirectly, to him.

  And then, of course, there was the money. She did her level best to relieve her father of as much of it as possible, to put it back lavishly into the hands of the working people he’d stolen it from. Sometimes she just gave it away. Fistfuls to any random person in need whom she happened to run across. It was a huge bone of contention between them. But until Eduardo actually pulled the financial plug—and oh, the media stink she’d make if he ever did—she planned to spend it as fast and furiously as she could think up ways to do so. It wasn’t much, but it was one small act to make amends to society for her father.

  Carina paused in the dim cavern of the foyer and kicked off her strappy high heels. Dangling the skimpy shoes from her fingers, she climbed the long, curving staircase toward her room. The mansion’s ornate walls pressed in on her heavily. One more night in this wretched house of horrors and then she’d be free. Forever.

  “Good evening, Miss Cari.”

  She looked up at the gravelly voice. Gunter, her father’s gray-haired German chief of security, had worked for her father for as long as she could remember. “Hi,” she replied.

  “Out late, I see,” he commented with a hint of disapproval in his voice.

  “Good band,” she mumbled.

  “I’m glad you’re back safely, at any rate.”

  Sheesh. What did it say when the hired help paid more attention to her
than her own father? She flashed a genuine smile at the older man. “Thanks.”

  Her father had been grouchy and distracted ever since the trouble with her older sister a month ago. Quiet, boring, responsible Julia had up and taken off for the United States with copies of all her father’s financial records and a whole bunch of his money. Who’d have guessed sweet Julia had it in her?

  Although Eduardo hadn’t said so, he’d undoubtedly dragged her back home to the estate to put pressure on Julia. It wasn’t a new trick in his retinue of control tactics over Julia—just an extremely annoying one. Cari was really sick and tired of being their pawn. She was an adult trying to have a life of her own. And what was so damned wrong with that?

  This situation between Eduardo and Julia was getting worrisome. The maids were whispering that Julia had made off with millions and that her father was threatening to kill Julia when he found her. Surely, that was an exaggeration. But just maybe, it wasn’t. Both of them had upped the stakes to the point where neither one could afford to back down. And Cari was trapped in the middle. She had to get out before their confrontation blew sky-high, with her caught square in the blast.

  Four o’clock tomorrow morning was zero hour for her escape. Twenty-five hours and ten minutes to go. She could make it that long.

  She walked down the long hallway toward her bedroom at the back of the house. The half moon high overhead sent cold, blue-white light through the gauze curtains into her bedroom. She didn’t turn on the lights as she stepped over the threshold. Rather, she made her way to the French doors leading to the balcony and threw them open. She stepped outside into cool air that raised goose bumps on her arms. Leaning on the wide stone balustrade that surrounded the balcony, she listened to the rhythmic pounding of the surf visible below until the cold soaked her completely through.

  Too jittery to sleep, she delayed going back inside despite the shivers coursing through her. Freezing felt better than the dull numbness that so often came over her from living under her father’s iron fist.

  The ocean was turbulent tonight, with white breakers rolling into the sand, pounding it in a relentless, mesmerizing rhythm. She watched its impersonal grandeur for a long time, feeling smaller and smaller in the face of its power.

  She was lonely. Was it too much to wish for someone who would simply love her? No strings attached, no scheming, no danger? Just a little old-fashioned tender loving care? A tear escaped the corner of her eye and ran slowly down her cheek, cold against her skin. It was the chilly breeze. She would not descend to crying for herself.

  Finally, reluctantly, she turned to go back inside. One more night in her gilded prison. One more night in her white lace bed. One more night as Eduardo Ferrare’s daughter. God, she couldn’t wait to disappear, to shed her skin and her past, and to begin a new life.

  She padded across the expanse of white carpet to her bed. Lost in her thoughts, she pulled off her silk blouse, leaving on the white cotton tank top underneath. She shimmied out of her short leather skirt and let it fall to the floor as well. Abruptly exhausted, she pulled back the covers in the dark and crawled into bed.

  That was odd. Her bed didn’t feel right. The mattress moved heavily. She rolled over and plumped the pair of eiderdown pillows she favored and noticed, out of the corner of her eye, a strangely shaped shadow enveloping the bed. Big and dark, it encompassed most of the other side of her bed.

  And then two more things struck her simultaneously: a sensation of wetness on her skin and a metallic smell.

  What in the world…

  She sat up and took a good look at the other side of her bed. And jumped violently. There was someone lying there!

  The house’s ventilation system kicked on just then, its fan billowing her curtains just enough to cast a thin shaft of moonlight across her bed. She caught a glimpse of a silver crucifix earring in her unexpected companion’s left ear.

  “Jeez Louise, Tony,” she whispered. “You scared the daylights out of me! How in the world did you get up here without my father’s men seeing you?” She reached over and nudged his shoulder. She whispered, “Hey, you. Wake up. Don’t snooze through my great escape on me, will you?”

  Nothing. A feeling of dread rose from her stomach.

  “Tony. Wake up.” She shook him harder.

  He was out like a light.

  She reached over and turned on the small lamp on the nightstand beside her bed. It cast a circle of yellow light on the room. She turned back to Tony.

  Her scream split the night air like the fall of a guillotine.

  There was blood everywhere. Her white lace bedspread was soaked in red. The sheets, the pillows and now even her clothing were bathed in it. Congealed blood defined a dark gash across Tony’s neck. Frantically, she crouched over him, pressing her hand against the long wound.

  “Tony!” she cried. “Oh, God, Tony!”

  And then she noticed his eyes, glassy and blank, staring off into space. His mouth was open, pulled back into a rictus of terror. She glanced down at the bed and saw his hand clenched around the sheets. A single thought exploded in her brain.

  Her father had slit a man’s throat in his own daughter’s bed.

  The horror of it hit her first, sending bile up into her throat. And then the guilt struck. If she hadn’t asked Tony to help her, he wouldn’t be lying here, dead. She felt violently sick to her stomach.

  On top of everything else, a wave of utter hopelessness slammed into her. She’d never escape her father. Never. And with that thought, despair closed in on her.

  She knew her father was a criminal. A cruel, ruthless man. But never, ever, had he turned that violence directly on her. That had been the one constant in her life. Her father loved her in a distant sort of way, and for all his flaws, he’d always protected her from the world he lived in.

  But tonight, he’d smashed that silent covenant to smithereens in a pool of blood.

  And that was what broke her. Something cracked inside her heart. It was too much to bear. She couldn’t go on any longer. She wasn’t strong enough to keep fighting who and what her father was.

  A great black pit of despair yawned before her and, numbly, she stepped into it. She scrambled awkwardly off the bed, backing away, nauseated, from her last hope for freedom. She noticed vaguely that she was leaving bloody footprints on the white carpet.

  Clumsy with creeping terror, she pulled out the fire escape ladder stored in the trunk by the French doors and fumbled to hook it onto the balcony ledge. Desperately fleeing the horror behind her, she flung herself over the side of the stone railing.

  Joe Rodriguez floated just below the surface of the shallow ocean, gently buffeted by the waves gathering to race ashore. His neoprene scuba suit protected him from the worst of the cold, but even at this equatorial latitude, a night dive in the Atlantic Ocean was vicious.

  He peered through his night-vision goggles at his diving watch. He had about two hours of oxygen left. He put the periscope’s eyepiece back to his face mask. Nothing much was happening at the Ferrare estate in front of him.

  His target, Carina Ferrare, the younger daughter of international crime lord Eduardo Ferrare, had just come home. Since it was a Friday night and she’d left wearing a tight skirt and a blouse unbuttoned practically to her waist, Joe guessed she’d been out dancing again. She’d done a lot of that in the two weeks he’d been watching her. Apparently, it was the only activity her father let her out of the house to engage in.

  It almost made a guy sympathize with her. Except he’d spent too many years scraping bodies off the ground or patching back together the victims of her family’s violence to have much sympathy for Carina Ferrare. She lived a life of pampered, luxurious excess paid for in other people’s blood and suffering. And surely, she knew it. Anyone with a shred of conscience would be too embarrassed to show her face in public. But the younger Ferrare flaunted her family’s ill-gotten wealth. She wore outrageously expensive clothing and jewelry, and from what he’d seen, she toss
ed money around like candy. No matter the horror of its origin.

  The only good news for his mission was that, despite her extravagant lifestyle, he got the distinct impression she was unhappy. The poor little rich girl couldn’t buy love, could she? The corner of his mouth twitched in a momentary sneer.

  But he had faith she’d jump at any opportunity to get away from her father. Frankly, she struck him as the type to leap at any new adventure—the wilder, the better.

  Such a contrast to the older sister. Julia Ferrare was responsible and thoughtful, a gentle soul who had risked her life to do the right thing and stop her father. Julia was the banker who handled all of Eduardo Ferrare’s finances, and she’d agreed to testify against her crime lord father just as soon as her younger sister was freed from his clutches.

  So here Joe was, preparing to rescue Carina Ferrare, whether she liked it or not. He was the advance man, doing tedious, around-the-clock surveillance to nail down the younger Ferrare daughter’s routines and habits. It was his job to figure out the best mode of snatching her, whether to approach her and enlist her cooperation or just throw a bag over her head and grab her. The four other reasonably healthy members of Charlie Squad, a highly classified Air Force Special Forces team, would join him in another week or so to help him run the actual rescue operation.

  Charlie Squad had been chasing Eduardo Ferrare for nearly a decade, and they almost had him now. It had been a huge breakthrough when Julia Ferrare had agreed to go before a grand jury and reveal everything she knew about her father’s crime empire. Given that she kept the books for the whole operation, she knew more than enough to put her old man behind bars for the rest of his life. But she’d been adamant. Charlie Squad had to pull out her sister before she’d say a word.

  He wasn’t all that worried about gaining Carina’s freedom. What charm couldn’t accomplish, coercion could. Surely any daughter of Eduardo’s understood all about force and its myriad applications.