Edge of Fury (Edge Security Series Book 7) Read online

  Hmm. He wouldn’t have guessed by looking at her that she knew how to handle a gun. He almost smiled. Maybe she was his type of woman. One who liked a little danger.

  Then again, maybe that was why she liked Pérez.

  Marc’s interest in her withered.

  She blinked. Her gaze narrowed on him for a moment before she took her finger off the trigger. She didn’t lower the weapon. Smart.

  “Easy there, Red.” He smiled. Women always loved his smile, and maybe charm would work with her.

  But her expression didn’t change, and she didn’t lower her weapon. “Who do you work for?”

  So she was too smart for charm. Her voice, husky from sleep, held a Scottish burr that made the linguist in him want to smile. The contrast between her sweet looks and the way she held him at gunpoint intrigued him. Too bad he was on a mission. He straightened and prepared to lie.

  “The US military.” He stuck with the lie he’d offered the soldier last night. It was his standard in a situation like this. No one knew about EDGE, and EDGE liked to keep it that way.

  She paused and then her eyes softened. “Is that the truth?”

  He nodded solemnly. “Truth.”

  She studied him and then finally lowered her gun. A smile hovered on her lips. “How’s your head?”

  “It’s fine.” He paused. “Where’s the other soldier and the woman?”

  She stiffened slightly. “The other soldier?”

  He raised his eyebrows. She really wanted to play dumb? “He must have dropped me off here,” Marc said. How the hell else had he gotten here? He sure as hell hadn’t walked out of the jungle on his own.

  She nodded slowly. “He did. In the middle of the night.”

  “Did he drop the woman off too?” Fuck, what if he’d just taken the agent and run?

  “There was no woman,” the redhead said. “Just you.”

  “Shit.” Marc swung his legs to the floor. “Did you speak to him?”

  Her eyes glittered with something. “He told me to tell you… She died.”

  Fuck. “How?”

  Her throat moved as she swallowed before she shrugged. “He said she died of her injuries.” She hung her head. “Wish I could have helped her.”

  Great. She was a do-gooder. She probably wanted to save the world too. “You believed him?”

  Her head lifted. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “So you know the soldier then,” Marc said. “Where is he?”

  She stood, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. “I don’t know him. He knocked on the back door last night and left you here, telling me that you’d want to know about a woman in the jungle.”

  She was lying. Or the soldier had lied to her. Marc clenched his jaw. Was Bishop still alive? Had she been recaptured? He needed to get back to the compound to see. And he had to contact his team. “Where am I?”

  Her chin lifted. His voice might have come out a bit harsher than he’d intended, but he needed answers.

  “The clinic in town.” She held up a hand to forestall his next question. “No one knows you’re here. You’re free to leave at any time, but I’d suggest you do so quickly and quietly. Pérez’s men might be searching the jungle for you.”

  A clinic? “This looks like a bedroom.”

  Her face colored. “It is. You’re in my room above the clinic. If Pérez sent someone here, I didn’t want them to find you downstairs.”

  “Makes sense,” he said. “Did the soldier bring me upstairs?”

  If he had, then this woman clearly did know him, and Marc would make sure she told him everything. He had to find the bastard.

  She frowned. “I did.”

  He reevaluated her. “By yourself?”

  She snorted softly before she headed to the bathroom, shutting the door on him. He took that to mean yes. He added strong to the list of details about this woman.

  The bandage covering his leg wasn’t a bad job, but one of his pant legs had been cut off. “First move, find pants.” He eyed the dresser against the wall. What were the chances Red had men’s pants in there? A small desk with stacks of file folders on top attracted his attention more. Information was more essential than pants.

  Water ran in the other room. Marc pushed himself to stand, gritting his teeth and putting weight gingerly on his wounded leg. Hurt like a fucker, but manageable. He’d had worse. He hobbled first to her desk and did a quick search of it. Patient files. An official letter to Quinn McKenzie from Doctors Without Borders stating her term was coming up.

  Definitely a do-gooder.

  He couldn’t find a file on Pérez, unfortunately. Why would Red have been out at Pérez’s if she wasn’t treating him? His lips pressed together. Either she didn’t keep notes on him—and from her meticulous files he doubted that—or she was indeed Pérez’s girlfriend.

  He moved to her dresser and opened all of the drawers. Clothes. Nothing he could use.

  The toilet flushed. He cursed his leg as he tried to get back to the bed but instead only managed to be a few feet from the dresser when she opened the door.

  She glanced at her dresser and then the desk. Nothing was out of place, of course.

  “Find anything interesting?” She walked past him to grab her blanket from the floor. She wore light cargo pants and a simple t-shirt. Nothing showy or tight. He filed that information away as well. Red folded the blanket neatly and placed it on the end of the bed, which she then made.

  Curious. She acted as though she didn’t even care if he was there. As if she had no attachment to him whatsoever, even though it must have been stressful to wake in the middle of the night to a wounded man dumped on her.

  “Thank you, by the way.” He waved a hand at his leg. “You could get in trouble with Pérez for this.”

  “I’m a medic.” She shrugged. “It’s my job.”

  He decided to go for a frontal assault. “Is that what you were doing at Pérez’s place yesterday? Your job?”

  She paused for the barest second before she stiffened and faced him. “Are you spying on me?”

  “Not you. Pérez,” he said. “What do you do for him?”

  “I treat his headaches.”

  “Is that all?”

  Her eyes widened and she put her hands on her hips. “What are you implying?”

  He shrugged, keeping his voice casual, but watched her reaction intently. “You’re a beautiful woman. He’s a powerful man…”

  A spark of temper lit her eyes. And no hint of a blush on those fair cheeks. “I am just a medic. He insists I come to him. There is nothing more to it than that.”

  Her word choice triggered his radar. “Insists?”

  “He usually sends a lackey or two, who don’t understand the word no.”

  She made it seem as if it wasn’t a big deal, but these men wouldn’t just politely ask. Marc’s temper surged. How much had she had to put up with while working here?

  “Has he ever hurt you?” he asked quietly.

  “No,” she said. “Just threats. I can handle myself.”

  He seriously doubted it was just threats, but there was nothing in her answer or stance that suggested she was a victim.

  “When are you planning on leaving?” she asked abruptly.

  “Kicking me out of bed already?”

  Now a blush warmed her skin. Wasn’t that interesting? Maybe she wasn’t as indifferent to him as he’d thought.

  “I have things to do,” she said in a bored tone. “I might be able to give you a lift somewhere, but it’d be safer if you stay hidden during the day and leave at nightfall. Do you have an RV for your team?”

  The short form for a rendezvous point came easily to her lips. The word choice wasn’t something most people would pick up. Had she been in the military?

  He smiled genially to put her at ease but watched her face carefully. “You were a medic in the military?” It would explain her ease with a weapon.

  The skin around her eyes tightened a fraction, as if he’d gu
essed something she’d rather he didn’t know. Even more interesting. The response had been small, as though she was used to covering her reactions. She was definitely hiding something.

  “A very short stint in the British army where I trained to be a medic,” she said. “Now I work for Doctors Without Borders.” Her gaze slipped to the papers on her desk. “As you probably already know.”

  He smiled but didn’t confirm her words. A former army medic now working in the wilds of Colombia. Was she just a do-gooder or did she have a fascination with danger? But why wouldn’t she have wanted him to know about her background if it was a fascination with danger? He wanted to mull over her like the puzzle she was, but he didn’t have time. And she wasn’t his concern.

  Well, not much of one. She was an innocent bystander and he didn’t want her to get caught up in Pérez’s wrath after last night’s clusterfuck.

  “Look, you should probably take a vacation for a few weeks, or forever,” he said. “Something happened last night that is going to piss Pérez off, and even if you are friends with him, I’d suggest laying low.”

  “I’m not friends with Pérez, and I’ll be fine.” She gestured to him. “The other doctor here is about your size. I’ll go grab some fresh clothes for you. You can use my sink to clean up. Don’t get the bandage wet or pull my stitches.”

  “You should listen to me,” Marc said quietly. “The situation is extremely dangerous. Pérez or his men could come here looking for me. You don’t want to be caught in the crossfire.”

  She sighed. “Thank you for your warning. I will help you get out of here, but I’m fine.”

  He clenched his jaw. Stubborn woman. “You’ll get yourself killed if—”

  “Don’t leave this room.” She left and shut the door behind her.

  Marc growled and half debated going after her, but that would be an exercise in ridiculousness—half-naked and hobbling through the halls.

  Why was he bothering?

  He went to her tiny bathroom and washed up as best he could in the sink, scrubbing off the camouflage paint, dirt, and sweat. Her soap smelled of vanilla and coconut. Delicious and exotic, a feminine scent. Marc scowled. Just what he needed to smell like. He grabbed a towel and dried his face and chest. He didn’t put his shirt back on, hoping Red had found some fresh clothes for him.

  She waited in the bedroom with clothes in her hand. Her gaze went to his bare chest when he opened the bathroom door.

  A faint flush swept over her cheeks and neck. He smiled. This was a reaction he could work with. Maybe she’d actually answer some questions. Like who was the guy who’d dumped him on her doorstep. He also had to confirm the agent’s death, find his team, and then get the hell out of this country.

  Marc left a slight smile on his face for when Red’s gaze finally pulled back up to his. “Find anything interesting?” He quoted her words back to her.

  Her eyes glittered. “No.” She placed the clothes on the bed, her face wiped clean of emotion. “Get changed. I’ll bring you some food.”

  Okay. No more teasing. It just seemed to irritate her and he needed her malleable to get information—though there was something irresistible about provoking her. But he had no time for it, he chastised himself. He made his face solemn. “Thank you.” He indicated his leg and the clothes. “For everything.”

  She gave him a quick nod started to leave the room.

  “Wait,” he said. “What’s your name?” Though he knew from the papers on her desk.

  “They call me Dr. McKenzie.”

  Interesting choice of words. “But that’s not your name?”

  Her face had no reaction, but he caught the ever so slight hesitation before she answered. “They call me doctor, but I’m just a medic.”

  Maybe she had doctor envy. “What about your first name? Or shall I keep calling you Red?”

  She glowered at him. “It’s Quinn.” She left the room.

  He grinned. Maybe he’d only tease her a little. It was just too much fun.

  He made quick work of getting into the cargo pants and gray t-shirt she’d brought him. The pants were a bit loose, hanging on his hips, and the t-shirt was a tad tight. He rolled his shoulders. Not bad considering the other option was probably Red’s clothes. He shoved his feet into his boots and after another quick exploration, found his weapons under her bed.

  No radio though and no rifle.

  The Sig Sauer P226 went into one boot. An extra mag went into the other. He flipped the sheath on his knife, so it lay horizontally along his utility belt and wasn’t as obvious at the small of his back. He drank the water in his canteen before he shoved a couple of power bars into the thigh pockets of the pants, along with two extra mags of ammo. The webbing went in the bottom drawer of Red’s dresser. He’d try to bring it when he left, but if he had to, he could leave it behind.

  The door opened, and the scent of food made his stomach growl. The woman had brought a plate with eggs and toast. “Okay, now I love you.”

  She studied him for a second. What did she see? He made his smile more seductive. The women at the bar could never resist it.

  She just rolled her eyes and handed him the plate and utensils. “I’m going to work in the clinic for the day, then I can drive you where you need to go. We’ll leave this evening. Until then, stay hidden and rest.”

  She strode to the door.

  “Don’t you want to know my name?”

  She stopped but didn’t look back.

  “My name is Marc,” he said. “And I like long walks in the jungle.”

  She gave a little snort before she shut the door behind her. He considered it a small victory as he limped to the desk to eat breakfast. Red might be useful yet.

  Quinn went downstairs to the main clinic, rubbing at the ache in her shoulder from last night. She stifled a yawn. How the hell had her mission gotten so complicated?

  “Thanks for making breakie.” Ian sat in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and eating her plate of eggs. Her stomach growled. That had been her breakfast.

  “You okay?” Ian asked.

  “I’m fine. Why?”

  He sat back. “You’re scowling about something. And frankly, you look exhausted. I thought you went to bed early?”

  Quinn wiped the scowl from her face and the man upstairs from her thoughts. “I’m fine. I just dropped my breakfast upstairs,” she lied. “Now I have to make more.”

  He nodded sagely. “That’ll do it. You just need a good fry-up.”

  She turned on the gas burner and got a couple of eggs out of the small fridge in the corner. She needed protein or she was going to gnaw her arm off.

  Ian left to make a phone call, telling her to leave the dishes for him to do. She slid her scrambled eggs onto a clean plate.

  The soldier in her room complicated things. She’d rather think of him as the soldier than Marc. That seemed too friendly.

  She sat and shoveled eggs into her mouth, willing herself to ignore the image of the bare-chested soldier standing in her bedroom. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on his body, and his sculpted muscles made her mouth water and her fingers itch to touch those hard planes and ridges.

  Her face heated. Shit, this was only because she’d been celibate for the five months she’d been here. Any woman faced with that perfection would have had their brain short-circuit for a moment.

  Or three.

  How long had she stood there staring? And why did he have to be so good-looking?

  She ate the last bite of egg and dumped her plate in the sink. She’d go through inventory today to take her mind off everything. It would be the perfect excuse to leave. She’d tell Ian she needed to get supplies, and then she’d drop the soldier where he needed to go and head for Cartagena. She’d tell Damien she was taking emergency leave. Then she could go to London and hunt down the Fletcher that Anna wanted her to find and trust.

  Easy peasy.

  The bell from the front door rang.

  “Customers,” she
muttered, not yet ready to face sick people. She dragged herself into the stock room to start inventory. She eyed the floor. Maybe she could close the door and take a nap?

  Ian shouted. She frowned at the sound. The bark of gunfire had her running for the front of the clinic. She stopped in the hall just out of sight.

  “Who are you looking for?” Ian’s voice filling with anger. “If you tell me, I can help you.”

  A quick peek showed four of Pérez’s men in the waiting area, bristling with weapons, mud on their boots and scowls on their faces. Ian blocked the way to the back.

  “Don’t steal any more of our drugs. We need them to help people.”

  “Get out of our way, cabron. We’re searching the building.”

  Quinn ran silently back down the hall and up the stairs. Ian had dealt with Pérez’s men before and knew how far he could push them. She wasn’t worried about him.

  In her room, the soldier had his gun out and pointed at her. “I heard gunfire,” he said.

  “Pérez’s men are here. You’ve got to hide.” She pointed to the window. “I’ll try to distract them to give you time to get to the jungle. You should be able to hide there.”

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. I’m one of only two doctors here. They won’t shoot me.”

  “You don’t sound certain.”

  She shrugged. “Nothing in life is certain, soldier.”

  His lips pressed together. “Marc.”

  She almost rolled her eyes. They didn’t have time for this. “Fine. Marc. Now go.”

  She raced back downstairs, where Pérez’s men could be heard going through the patient rooms, banging things around.

  Ian stood in the hallway. “Can you please not make a mess?” he yelled into one room. A crash followed his question.

  “What’s going on?” she asked quietly.

  Ian whirled to her. “They’re destroying the place.”

  “I can hear that, but why?”

  “They’re looking for a woman.”

  “A woman?” She blinked. Were they looking for Anna? Hadn’t they found her body last night? Shit. Could Anna still be out there? Alive?

  There was no way. Pérez’s men had been combing that area of the jungle with dogs. Quinn had heard gunfire.