Read Online Mackenzie's Pleasure by Linda Howard - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Linda Howard
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smell of the sea was strong in his nostrils. Like the vast majority of
waterfronts, it was one of the rougher areas of the city. From what he'd been able to tell, no
authorities had shown up to investigate the gunfire, even supposing it had been reported.
The Libyan government wasn't friendly—there were no diplomatic relations between the
United States and Libya—but that didn't mean the government would necessarily turn a
blind eye to the kidnapping of an ambassador's daughter. Of course, it was just as likely that
it would, which was why diplomatic channels hadn't been considered. The best option had
seemed to go in and get Miss Lovejoy out as quickly as possible.
There were plenty of ramshackle, abandoned buildings in the waterfront area. The rest
of the team had withdrawn to one, drawing any pursuers away from Zane and Miss Lovejoy,
while they holed up in another. They would rendezvous at oh-one-hundred hours the next
morning.
Spooky had chosen the sites, so Zane trusted their relative safety. Now he and Miss
Lovejoy wended their way through a rat's nest of alleyways. She made a stifled sound of
disgust once, and he knew she'd stepped on something objectionable, but other than that she
soldiered on in silence.
It took only a few minutes to reach the designated safe area. The building looked more
down than up, but Spooky had investigated and reported an intact inner room. One outer
wall was crumbled to little more than rubble. Zane straddled it, then caught Miss Lovejoy
around the waist and effortlessly lifted her over the heap, twisting his torso to set her on the
other side. Then he joined her, leading her under half-fallen timbers and around spiderwebs
that he wanted left undisturbed. The fact that he could see those webs meant they had to get
under cover, fast.
The door to the interior room hung haphazardly on one hinge, and the wood was
rotting away at the top. He pulled her inside the protective walls. "Stay here while I take
care of our tracks," he whispered, then dropped to a crouch and moved to where they had
crossed the remnants of the outer wall. He worked backward from there, scattering dirt to
hide the signs of their passage. There were dark, wet places on the broken pieces of stone
that were all that remained of the floor. He frowned, knowing what those dark patches meant.
Damn it, why hadn't she said something? Had she left a trail of blood straight to their
hiding place?
Carefully he obliterated the marks. It wasn't completely her fault; he should have
given more thought to her bare feet. The truth was, his mind had been more on her bare butt
and the other details of her body that he'd already seen. He was far too aware of her
sexually; the proof of it was heavy in his loins. After what she had been through that was the last
thing she needed, so he would ignore his desire, but that didn't make it go away.
When he had worked his way to the room, he silently lifted the door and reset it in the
frame, bracing it so it wouldn't sag again. Only then did he turn to face her. "Why didn't
you tell me you'd cut your foot? When did it happen?" His voice was low and very even.
She was still standing where he'd left her, her face colorless in the half light coming
through the open shutters of the window, her eyes so huge with fatigue and strain that she
looked like a forlorn, bedraggled little owl. A puzzled frown knit her brows as she looked
at her feet. "Oh," she said in dazed discovery as she examined the dark stains on her left
foot. "I didn't realize it was cut. It must have happened when I stepped in that... whatever...
in the alley. I remember that it hurt, but I thought there was just a sharp rock under the...
stuff."
At least it hadn't happened any sooner than that. Their position should still be safe. He
keyed the radio, giving the prearranged one click that told the team he was in the safe area and
receiving two clicks in return, meaning his men were secure
waterfronts, it was one of the rougher areas of the city. From what he'd been able to tell, no
authorities had shown up to investigate the gunfire, even supposing it had been reported.
The Libyan government wasn't friendly—there were no diplomatic relations between the
United States and Libya—but that didn't mean the government would necessarily turn a
blind eye to the kidnapping of an ambassador's daughter. Of course, it was just as likely that
it would, which was why diplomatic channels hadn't been considered. The best option had
seemed to go in and get Miss Lovejoy out as quickly as possible.
There were plenty of ramshackle, abandoned buildings in the waterfront area. The rest
of the team had withdrawn to one, drawing any pursuers away from Zane and Miss Lovejoy,
while they holed up in another. They would rendezvous at oh-one-hundred hours the next
morning.
Spooky had chosen the sites, so Zane trusted their relative safety. Now he and Miss
Lovejoy wended their way through a rat's nest of alleyways. She made a stifled sound of
disgust once, and he knew she'd stepped on something objectionable, but other than that she
soldiered on in silence.
It took only a few minutes to reach the designated safe area. The building looked more
down than up, but Spooky had investigated and reported an intact inner room. One outer
wall was crumbled to little more than rubble. Zane straddled it, then caught Miss Lovejoy
around the waist and effortlessly lifted her over the heap, twisting his torso to set her on the
other side. Then he joined her, leading her under half-fallen timbers and around spiderwebs
that he wanted left undisturbed. The fact that he could see those webs meant they had to get
under cover, fast.
The door to the interior room hung haphazardly on one hinge, and the wood was
rotting away at the top. He pulled her inside the protective walls. "Stay here while I take
care of our tracks," he whispered, then dropped to a crouch and moved to where they had
crossed the remnants of the outer wall. He worked backward from there, scattering dirt to
hide the signs of their passage. There were dark, wet places on the broken pieces of stone
that were all that remained of the floor. He frowned, knowing what those dark patches meant.
Damn it, why hadn't she said something? Had she left a trail of blood straight to their
hiding place?
Carefully he obliterated the marks. It wasn't completely her fault; he should have
given more thought to her bare feet. The truth was, his mind had been more on her bare butt
and the other details of her body that he'd already seen. He was far too aware of her
sexually; the proof of it was heavy in his loins. After what she had been through that was the last
thing she needed, so he would ignore his desire, but that didn't make it go away.
When he had worked his way to the room, he silently lifted the door and reset it in the
frame, bracing it so it wouldn't sag again. Only then did he turn to face her. "Why didn't
you tell me you'd cut your foot? When did it happen?" His voice was low and very even.
She was still standing where he'd left her, her face colorless in the half light coming
through the open shutters of the window, her eyes so huge with fatigue and strain that she
looked like a forlorn, bedraggled little owl. A puzzled frown knit her brows as she looked
at her feet. "Oh," she said in dazed discovery as she examined the dark stains on her left
foot. "I didn't realize it was cut. It must have happened when I stepped in that... whatever...
in the alley. I remember that it hurt, but I thought there was just a sharp rock under the...
stuff."
At least it hadn't happened any sooner than that. Their position should still be safe. He
keyed the radio, giving the prearranged one click that told the team he was in the safe area and
receiving two clicks in return, meaning his men were secure
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