Captive Of Fate. Lindsay McKenna
pressed her lips together, aware of the pain in her heart. “That’s none of your business,” she hissed.
“I see. Sounds like either a divorce or you got jilted. Which was it?”
She rose from her crouched position after copying the numbers off the last crate. “Don’t you have anything better to do than interrogate me? I thought you were so worried about getting supplies up to San Dolega.”
He took off his hat and scratched his head. “I was until the fog socked us in. Not much we can do at the moment.” His voice lost its mocking quality as he frowned, staring into the darkness above her. “We’re reduced to three operating jeeps, and even those can’t get through. The road is temporarily closed by a large avalanche of mud that occurred an hour ago. The only thing left is for the men to act like pack horses and carry these crates the last five miles on their backs.” He sighed, focusing on her. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Miss McIntire. I needed a lift—this day started out rotten, and it’s getting worse by the moment. I’m glad I stumbled onto you.”
She shrugged off his banter. “What do you mean an avalanche? Aren’t the people getting help now?”
“The rains are heavy this time of year, and the earthquake caused a loosening of the topsoil on the mountainsides. The result is an avalanche. The fog is due to cold air mixing with the higher coastal temperatures. This weather system is unusual, so we’re more or less outflanked at the moment. And, to answer your question, no.”
“I’m sure, with your brilliant tactical mind, you’ll come up with something to save the day.”
Matt shook his head, biting his lower lip. “Not always.”
“Is this entire rescue mission run by the military?”
“Why? Do you think a civilian could come up with a better mousetrap under the present conditions?”
“Probably,” she stated boldly. “You’re so typical. If you can’t blow it up, destroy it, or change it, you don’t know how to deal with a problem.”
He stared at her hard, some of the tenseness returning to his face. “I happen to have a degree in engineering, and I’m used to building things, Miss McIntire, not destroying them. You’ve sure got a hate for the military, don’t you? But then, you’re Thornton’s assistant. Did he brainwash you, or did you come prepackaged to his office that way?”
Something snapped inside her, and she struck out at him. He caught her wrist easily, as if he were thwarting a child’s paltry attempt at retaliation. “Let me go!”
Matt’s eyes twinkled with irony. “My little dove is a hawk in disguise. You talk a good line of pacifism, but at the first provocation, you strike out like a cobra. Who’s more aggressive here, lady?” And he suddenly let her go, grinning at her undisguised anger. “How did your boyfriend put up with that temper of yours?”
Alanna backed away from him, her eyes large and her breath harsh. She rubbed her wrist tenderly, feeling the pain from his grip. “We never argued!” she admitted.
“No? Maybe you should have. A volatile argument every now and then is good for the soul. Now, don’t you feel better?”
“No, but maybe I would if I could have hit you. You’re such an—an arrogant bastard!”
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