Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart of the Jaguar

“Is it? You haven’t had your coffee yet, Major Houston, so I know better than to engage you in polite social conversation.”

His boyish grin broadened in embarrassment. He saw Morgan frown and look first at Ann and then at him.

Houston nodded. “Yeah, you’re right, Doc. I’m just an old, snarly jaguar before I get my espresso. I’ll be in shortly. A good fairy all but made my java for me and it’ll be ready pronto.” He winked at her. “I owe you, Ann….”

“Take your time, Mike,” Morgan murmured with a forgiving look. He lifted a heavy white mug from the coffee table and took a sip. “Today we’re not in a hurry.”

Mike saw Ann’s eyes sparkle mischievously even though her face had a deadpan expression. As he stepped back into the kitchen, he remembered the blush that had spread across her long, sloping cheekbones when he’d winked at her. She always reacted to his playful charm with some discomfort. He wondered why and lamented once more that Ann had never opened up to him about her past or why she couldn’t fully embrace him now. Her kisses said one thing, the fear he saw in her eyes quite another.

Damn, but the woman was pretty. Did she realize she held his heart in her hands? Did she want today to be goodbye? He’d dreamed torrid dreams of loving her completely. The closest they had come to that was the day they had shared a picnic down at the creek. He’d accurately read her desire that time, and when he’d kissed her, she’d asked him to touch her intimately, to explore her with his hands.

In the molten heat of the moment, as he’d stretched out on the blanket beside her, she’d frozen. Mike had sat up, for he had no desire to push himself on her. She had apologized and quickly pulled her blouse back over her shoulders, before getting up and hurrying away. Her face had been flushed and he could tell she was embarrassed by her behavior.

It was so frustrating! Everything about their relationship was on again, off again. She wanted him. She was afraid of him. Or maybe she was afraid of herself? Mike pondered that angle as he waited for his espresso to brew.

Ann was a type A personality who didn’t know how to rest or relax. She had to be doing something every single minute of her day. In his book, people like that were running away from something. So what was Ann running from? Sighing audibly, Mike scowled. If only she’d lower those walls she held around herself and talk to him. If only…

The aromatic odor of the espresso drifted toward him as he stood expectantly over the machine. Ann had often made a wry face at his need to drink only black, thick espresso, but hell, in South America it was the drink of choice, besides maté, Argentina’s national drink. He’d been raised on espresso since he was a small kid, following his mother into the kitchen as she made her own cup each morning.

Picking up the note with his scarred fingers, he shook his head. He couldn’t figure Ann out. Most of the time around the ranch she pointedly ignored him. His job was to run patrols and keep Morgan and Laura safe from possible drug-cartel attacks while they holed up and tried to heal from the kidnapping ordeal that had torn their lives apart, quite literally, at the seams. Ann had come because she was a qualified psychiatrist and Laura’s state had been rocky and unstable at first.

Mike ran his fingers across the ink on the note. Since she’d been staying at the hideaway cabin on Oak Creek with her husband, Laura spent an hour in therapy every day with Dr. Parsons, and Mike wasn’t surprised that Ann had helped Laura Trayhern tremendously. God knew, he wanted to feel the effects of Ann’s undivided attention on him. Grinning darkly, he told himself that he’d change, too, if given the chance to be the center of her focus. But thus far, Ann evaded him whenever possible. So why did she obviously enjoy his kisses so much when he eased her into his arms? He could feel all her walls melt away as they kissed.

Was Ann prejudiced against his skin color—the fact that he wasn’t a pure white, Anglo male with all the trimmings? Perhaps she couldn’t bring herself to admit it to herself, much less him? Questions, so many damn, unanswered questions. And today was the last day he’d ever see Ann. His heart squeezed with pain. With need.

As he poured the espresso into a small, delicate white cup with his large hands, he sighed in frustration, mentally preparing himself to shift gears and talk business with Morgan Trayhern. At least Ann would be in the same room with him and he’d get one last moment with her. He felt like a man being sent to the gallows and having his last wish fulfilled, but hell, there was no love life for him where he was heading. None at all. The only thing waiting for him was a bullet or a machete with his name on it. No, Peru was his hell. Whatever small piece of heaven he’d been afforded had died years earlier, and Houston knew that with his karmic track record—the many men he’d killed over the years—heaven wasn’t about to grant him a second chance at anything. With a careless grin, he shrugged his shoulders as if throwing off the grief and chains of the past, and headed toward the living room.

Chapter 2

Mike sauntered into the living room after taking his first, rejuvenating sip of the dark, fragrant liquid. He chose a leather wing chair opposite Morgan, in front of a coffee table littered with magazines. Ann was holding her own cup of coffee between her hands, standing with her back to the snapping, roaring fire. She refused to look him in the eye, some of the flush still lingering on her cheeks.

“I overslept,” Mike growled in Morgan’s direction, studying his boss’s somber features. The man who had hired him was internationally famous. Morgan headed up Perseus, a high-tech mercenary operation consisting of men and women, mostly from the military, who were hired to perform dangerous missions around the world. Though Perseus was privately owned by Morgan, there wasn’t a government in the democratic world that didn’t hire his renowned services. Like Morgan, whose honesty and strong military background kept this clandestine ship of state running smoothly, his people were the best at what they did. Most people, when they heard the word mercenary, thought of a turncoat bastard who had no allegiance except to the bottom line: money. Not so at Perseus. Trayhern’s reputation for integrity was well-known by almost every government in the world. He and his team were revered for coming to the aid of those who were in trouble and, for whatever reason, were without their country’s legal or political protection.

Because Trayhern had been wronged by his own country, had been labeled a traitor and been in hiding for nearly half his life before his name was cleared with the help of his wife, he knew the disastrous results of not being able to reach out to some powerful entity for help.

As Mike leaned back and relished each sip of his espresso, he noticed once again the white scar that ran from Morgan’s left temple all the way down his recently shaved cheek to his jaw, a mute testimony of his surviving on a hill in the closing days of the Vietnam War. There, he’d been a captain in the Marine Corps, and responsible for a company of men that had been wiped out and overrun by the enemy. Only he and one other man had survived. And then his troubles had really begun. Now that he was nearing fifty, Morgan’s black hair was peppered at the temples with silver though his square face was still hard, shouting of the rigid discipline of his military background. Because he was a hero in Houston’s eyes, Mike had agreed to act as Morgan and Laura’s bodyguard during this rather bland two-month stay in rural Arizona.

“You ready to talk?” Morgan asked him with a slight grin. “Ann’s been warning me about you being snarly without your espresso.”

“Yeah,” Mike rumbled, “she might as well have set up an IV and poured it directly into my veins this morning. Sorry I overslept.” He glanced at Ann, who refused to meet his gaze. Mike was too much of a gentleman to say why he’d lost so much sleep last night. The reason was that he’d cornered Ann and asked her why she was evading him. It had turned into a frustrating, angry confrontation and he’d ended up silencing her with a kiss—a kiss that had nearly been both their undoing. Ann had almost lost control of herself. He had felt her unraveling in his arms. And that’s when she’d pushed him away. It had been a miserable night for them, he acknowledged. She’d cried and he’d held her. Yet as he rocked her in his arms, she’d still refused to give in to him and talk about why she kept him at arm’s length. One thing he knew for sure, she didn’t trust him. That hurt Mike deeply and his heart ached with sadness.

Cocking his head in Ann’s direction, he saw a slight, strained smile cross her full lips as she lifted the cup and took a sip of her coffee. Her eyes were still puffy looking this morning. He wondered if she’d cried more after tearing out of his embrace and fleeing to her room last night.

Morgan nodded. “It was a good day to sleep in.” He picked up a file and handed it across the pine coffee table to Mike. “Here’s your pay and a little extra bonus for taking this mission on. I know you didn’t have to.”

As the manila file slid into his fingers, Mike placed his cup on the table. Opening the folder, he saw a check for thirty thousand dollars, plus papers detailing all his duties over the last two months.

His brows raised. “This is a little much, boss.”

Morgan grinned and crossed his legs. “I know soldiers like you don’t enjoy babysitting jobs like this one. But you knew the drug lords involved, and you knew their habits and techniques. I know you’d rather be down in the Peruvian jungles chasing them than sitting up here for two months playing watchdog.” He motioned with his finger toward the check Houston was holding. “I’m grateful you took the mission, pabulum or not, Mike. That’s our way of thanking you.”

Houston had heard several times from Ann how generous Trayhern was with his employees, as well as the charities they supported. Now Mike was getting a firsthand taste of it. “Hell,” he muttered, “this is almost a year’s army pay for me.”

Chuckling, Morgan nodded. “It probably is. There’s a first-class airline ticket there also, reserved under your assumed identity of Peter Quinn. You’ve got a flight out of Phoenix at 1500 hours today aboard Veracruz Airlines. They make a fueling stop in Mexico City and then you fly directly into Lima.”

The man was excessively generous, Mike decided as he found the airline ticket. He frowned as he saw another check beneath the ticket. Setting the folder down in his lap, he muttered, “What’s this?” His eyes widened considerably. It was a check for a hundred thousand dollars, made out to the Sisters of Guadalupe Clinic in Lima, Peru.

“Laura was telling me how, in your spare time, you work with two old French nuns down in the barrio, the poor section of Lima, using your paramedic skills alongside the nuns’ homeopathic treatments. She said you’d established the medical clinic eight years ago to help Indian children who couldn’t afford medical help.” He waved his hand toward the check Mike was holding. “That’s a donation to your clinic, Houston. Laura hinted that the clinic was usually running on hope and faith, and that you could use a lot more supplies.” His eyes grew thoughtful. “Maybe this will keep the wolf…or jaguar…from your clinic’s door for a while.”

Mike swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he held the check. The paper felt as if it were burning his fingers. “This…”

“Speechless for once?” Ann teased with a soft laugh.

Mike twisted his head to look up at her. That unreadable doctor’s facade generally in place on her oval face was gone. He waited for such moments because her openness gave her unusual features a warm attractiveness. Her nose was long and thin and had obviously been broken at one time because there was a slight bump on it. She was narrow all over—narrow oval face, narrow hands and skinny but shapely legs. Her eyes were one of her finest features: large, intelligent and widely set. Her mouth, which was now curved gently, hinted powerfully to him of her soft, vulnerable side. Mike hungrily absorbed her countenance, and he managed a slight grin. Ann was trying desperately to be civil to him.

He saw the darkness in her eyes and could feel her fear. Was she as sad over their parting as he was? His heart said yes. Although his intuition didn’t make sense at all to him, now was not the place or time to pursue it. He was sure Morgan didn’t know about Ann’s on-and-off relationship with him over the past two months, and he’d keep it that way—for her sake.

“Yeah, you’re right—I usually have a comeback for almost everything, don’t I?”

Ann nodded. “Without fail, Major Houston. One of your most reliable traits.”

“I’ll take that as praise, not an insult, Dr. Parsons.” A little of her old, teasing self was resurfacing, and Mike was glad. The last thing he wanted was to make Ann feel bad, and he sure as hell had managed to do that last night. Before he left, he knew he’d have to draw her aside, privately, and apologize. He didn’t want their friendship to end on a bitter note. Ann deserved better than that and so did he.

She shrugged her shoulders delicately. “Take it any way you want, Major. I’m always open to options.”

How he wished she really were! Laughing deeply, Mike returned his attention to Morgan. “This is unexpected.”

The warmth in Morgan’s eyes belied the expressionless mask he usually wore over his features. “Needed, according to Laura,” he said. “I like to help out the less fortunate. God knows, I was one for long enough, Mike.” He scowled at the memory of the atrocities he’d suffered.

Mike stared at the check. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this is going to help. I was trying to figure out a way to keep the clinic open. I’m afraid our little charity isn’t seen as very worthy by the rich and powerful in Lima. The children are dark-skinned Indians, not poor little Anglos in need. Believe me—” his voice shook with sudden emotion “—this is going to help more than you’ll ever know.” Mike vaguely recalled talking to Laura about his clinic once, a fleeting conversation he’d completely forgotten about. The woman didn’t forget anything! And she was just as generous and giving as her very wealthy husband.

“We’re glad to do what we can, Mike. From now on, your clinic is on our donation list. The sum might go up or down a little, but at least you’ll know that every January, you’ll be receiving enough money, I hope, to keep those doors open to the Indian children and their families.” Leaning forward, Morgan took a second manila file from the coffee table and handed it to Ann. “Here are your marching orders, Ann. You were asking me where I was sending you next. Well, take a look. I think you’ll be pleased.”

Ann smiled warmly at Morgan as she took the file. “Thanks. I love new missions.”

Mike saw how comfortable Ann and Morgan were with one another and realized they almost had an older brother–younger sister relationship. It was obvious Ann loved Morgan and respected him. Hell, who wouldn’t? Still, Mike felt a twinge of longing because he wished Ann would bestow such a warm, trusting look in his direction. But he knew that would never happen after today, and he found himself lamenting that fact far more sharply than he should. Such was the effect the good doctor had on him, although she pretended to be oblivious of the way he mooned over her like a jaguar did over a lost mate. Mike suspected Ann really missed nothing. She was a trained therapist. She was taught to observe nuances of body language, tone of voice and subtle expressions. No, she knew he was powerfully drawn to her, but she wasn’t interested, that was all. And although that left him confused and frustrated, he realized it was for the best. He wasn’t exactly the kind of man who could give her what she needed, in light of his own past.

Sighing, Mike leaned back in the chair, stealing a moment to watch Ann unobtrusively. He rarely got such a chance, and since they were parting today and he’d never see her again, he wanted to take this opportunity to absorb her into his heart one last time. In some ways, he was like a greedy thief, and he felt a little guilty about it.

Ann chuckled as she placed the coffee cup on the dark wood mantel above the fireplace. “I hope it’s a warm place, Morgan! I’m freezing here.” She opened the file in her hands. “Hawaii or Australia would sure be nice,” she hinted with a smile.

“Oh,” Morgan murmured, “you’re going someplace warm, all right, but neither of those countries.”

Ann picked up the airline ticket and opened it.

Mike saw her broad brow wrinkle instantly. And then she snapped an unsettled look in his direction. He almost asked why, but then she pursed her lips and began sifting through the rest of the papers, reading intently.

“Morgan,” she protested in a strangled tone, “what’s going on here? This isn’t an assignment for another mission.” Ann stared accusingly at Houston again. “These are orders to go down to his clinic in Lima and help him out for six weeks.”