Captive Of Fate

He continued to smile, enjoying the moment. “And you’re a vixen. But a very interesting, provocative one.” He picked up the clipboard he had set on a crate. “I’m rather glad you came up. It certainly makes my life interesting.”

“Do you always win, Colonel? I mean, does it make you feel good to know you’re more powerful or stronger than someone else?”

“I don’t always win. But I try my best, and that’s all anyone can expect. And I don’t normally go around exerting physical force on a woman unless she asks for it.” His brows drew together in a downward arc as he watched her. “You don’t look Irish, but you certainly have the Gaelic temper.”

“My mother was from Hungary,” she stated flatly. “They say we Hungarians are pretty volatile, too.”

“That’s okay. I enjoy a hot-blooded woman. Be seeing you around, Miss McIntire.”

She stood there seething for five minutes before her flaring temper subsided back into glowing embers. She felt like a mouse caught between his paws. What was wrong? She had dealt with all kinds of men in her career and held a very prestigious job in political circles. How could a mere officer in the Marine Corps bring her so quickly to defeat? Where had her education failed her? She had always managed to deal with Paul and his intellectualism. But this man—he seemed to know everything about her! That was infuriating in itself, and it strengthened her resolve to prove that he was involved in the smuggling ring linked to Nicaragua.

* * *

Her feet were numb with cold as she snapped the padlock back on the door of the shed. The blanket of darkness had fallen quickly, and she turned, blinking as the rain stung her face. Had she ever been so utterly disconsolate? A thought crossed her mind in answer: yes, living with Paul the last year of their torturous four-year relationship. Bowing her head, she slogged back through the mud toward the headquarters cum communications center.

Alanna shook the water off her raincoat after stepping inside. Her throat constricted as she looked up to see Colonel Breckenridge, studying her from where he was standing. He tilted his chin, appraising her thoroughly. The radioman at the desk looked up, calling his name, and he turned away from Alanna’s glare.

She waited until, he was done and then walked over to him, gripping her briefcase tightly in her hand. “I hate to bother you, Colonel, but I need a place to get cleaned up and sleep tonight. “Where are the facilities?”

“I’m sorry. Didn’t your friend the commissioner tell you? There are none.” He shook his head, amusement evident in his shadowy gray eyes. “I told you to stay in the capital. Up here it’s blankets, sleeping bags, or just huddling up into a corner on the dirt floor of a thatched hut. Take your pick.”

She gave him a stricken look. “No water? No bathing facilities?”

“No. I tried to tell you before, this is out in the middle of nowhere. We don’t cater to civilians or anyone unessential to the rescue efforts. What little water we have is being chlorinated for use by the injured we’re receiving off the mountain. Press people and other such personnel have to fend for themselves. There’s a barrel of fresh rainwater right outside the door. You might get your hands and face washed there….”

Alanna felt anger coiling inside her. “I’ll bet you just love these conditions.”

Matt shrugged, walking back to a makeshift desk composed of wood crates that had official-looking papers strewn around on the top of it. “I’ve had my share of sleeping in jungles,” he agreed amiably, “but I prefer a bed when I can get one.”

She stood helplessly in front of him. “When is the next flight back to San Jose then?”

“There isn’t any. I told you earlier that we’re socked in with unseasonable fog conditions. I can’t lift a chopper to get to the village, much less to the capital. Everything is at a damn standstill at this moment.”

She pursed her lips, the anger draining from her. She was so incredibly tired she felt dizzy. Her feet ached, and she could feel the grit of the soil between her foot and the sole of her ruined shoes. Six years at a university did not prepare one for this, and she felt bitterness toward Senator Thornton. He should have planned this expedition with less haste.

“Look,” he said, more gently, “there’s a side room over there where I sleep. It’s a wood floor, and it will keep most of the insects from biting you. I’ll give you half my blankets, and you can use my sleeping bag as a mattress. There’s a basin of water in there and a towel.”

It sounded heavenly, and Alanna raised her head, meeting his gaze. She felt an inexplicable warmth radiating from him, and she responded to his friendly overture. “You’re serious?”

Matt smiled tiredly. “I told you before, I don’t say or do anything I don’t mean.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, suddenly distrustful, remembering the senator’s words of warning.

“Do you think the military is without a heart, Miss McIntire? That I can’t take pity on people that are less well off than I am? You look bushed, and I have a weak spot in my heart for women anyway. So, if you want to share my room for tonight, you’re welcome. Simple as that.”

She gave him a measuring stare. There was nothing simple about this man, her instincts told her. She tried to probe beyond the honesty expressed in his face and voice. “What do you mean ‘share’ your bedroom?”

He shrugged lazily, picking up several papers and perusing them. “What do you want it to mean?” he retorted coolly.

“Damn you!” she hissed under her breath, her eyes blazing with the green fire of anger. “I have no intention of sleeping with you!”

“You could do a lot worse. Besides, with the temperature dropping like it is, it’s going to get awfully cold before morning. Two bodies make more heat than one. It’s simple logic.”

“You’re out of your mind, Colonel! I wouldn’t sleep with you if hell froze over!”

He seemed to enjoy her explosive tirade, smiling as she stood there trembling visibly with fury. “Too bad,” he murmured, putting the papers back down. “But since you can’t stand the military and hate the sight of me, I don’t think we’ll have too much trouble sharing the same floor, Miss McIntire. I like to think that the women I sleep with look forward to the experience, and I don’t feel like getting my throat slit by you. Rest assured, we’ll have a line of demarcation between us tonight. Fair enough?”

Alanna drew in a deep breath, still distrusting that glint in his gray eyes. “Marines have a reputation as far as women go,” she accused.

“That we enjoy them? I can’t deny one word of it. Go get cleaned up, and quit looking like I’m going to pounce on you or something.”

She felt human again after she got cleaned up with the aid of a small bar of soap and Colonel Breckenridge’s olive green washcloth and towel. Taking her small suitcase, she pulled out a set of well-worn jeans and her only pair of socks and canvas shoes. The room was quiet except for the constant chatter of the radio transmissions drifting through the thin wooden door. She turned her back away from it, slipping off the damp blouse and bra, drawing a thin sweater over her head. It would be just like him to come in unannounced, she thought. God, how he provoked her! She hated his cool logic and his constant sniping at the political people she worked for.

His “bed” was a sad-looking affair. Alanna left him one green blanket and took the other one and the sleeping bag. She placed them strategically in the corner opposite his huge pack and the remaining rumpled blanket. Taking a mirror out of her purse, she tried to decide what to do with her drying hair.

She noticed dark circles beginning to appear beneath her large green eyes and touched one hesitantly. She was exhausted, although fighting with the Colonel seemed to increase her adrenaline, and the cold water had washed away some of her tiredness. Trying to make the best of the situation, she sat cross-legged on the floor and patiently parted her long hair, then wove the strands into two thick braids, tying the ends off with rubber bands she carried in her purse. Her stomach growled, and she looked up toward the door, frowning. Where could she get something to eat? Groaning, she got up, realizing she would have to talk to Colonel Breckenridge, again. Trying to put a choke chain on her temper, she slipped out the door and walked over to the desk where he sat.

For an instant, Alanna felt her heart tighten with compassion for him. He was resting his head in one hand, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he studied a map in front of him. Gone was the mask that he seemed to hide beneath. Instead, the lines of weariness were accented at the corners of his narrowed eyes and around his mouth. He sat up, inhaling deeply as she quietly approached him. His eyes flared briefly with an unknown emotion as he took in her form.

“I didn’t know you could work miracles,” he murmured, putting the compass on the map.

“What do you mean?” She sounded defensive again. Damn. She was beginning to understand that if she lost her temper with him, it only made communicating more difficult. Alanna tried to compose herself and forced a smile she did not feel.

“You look like the girl back home,” he commented, motioning toward her braids. “A farm girl from Iowa or some small Midwest town. None of that better-than-thou Washington stamp on you any longer.”

“You mean less sophisticated?” she asked, restless beneath his hungry look.

“No, you still have class. That would show through no matter what you did or did not wear.”

Alanna blushed scarlet, and she automatically touched her cheek, put off balance by his unexpected, brusque compliments. “Colonel—”

“You’re very pretty when you blush, Alanna. Feel better now that you’ve got on some dry clothes?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She cleared her throat, nervously shifting her feet. “I’m afraid to even ask if there’s food available up here. Is there?”

“If you’re a refugee from the village or part of the relief effort, yes. There’s a small chow hall in operation at the end hut on the northern perimeter of the base.”

“But I’m not a refugee, am I?” she growled back, understanding his faultless logic.

“In a sense you are. Thrown completely out of your element into a set of circumstances that you’re unprepared for.”

“I’m not some poor, lost waif! If you’ll just tell me where I can buy some food…”

“Right now, with supplies running low, there isn’t any amount of money that will buy food.”

She raised her eyes skyward in reaction. “What do I have to do to get some food!” she asked tightly. “Would it go better if I begged?”

Matt shook his head. “You wouldn’t make a very convincing beggar, lady.” He slowly rose, as if stiff. He flexed his right shoulder in a rotating motion, frowning.