Against the Wind Read Online Free PDF Page B

to crush that curiously vulnerable elbow he held in his grip. Damn, but he wished he were the sort of man who felt justified in beating women.
    As if things weren’t complicated enough, he had to have her show up, claiming to be Maddy Lambert to everyone who’d listen. Ortega and a dozen troops must be close behind, not to mention Carlos’s band of merry men. Damn it all to hell!
    And how was Sam going to react? Probably far better than he was. Sam had no qualms about sacrificing everything for the greater good, he wouldn’t have any doubts about whether he was doing the right thing. Sam was a saint, with all the disadvantages that came with such sainthood, and Jake Murphy was just a poor, foolish mortal.
    He should have told Enrique to send her away at the gate, and leave it to Ortega to deal with her. There was no way anyone could get into the fortress without his say-so and it would have simplified matters considerably.And even once he’d made that mistake, he still could have sent her on her way. Once he’d decided he wasn’t going to let her get near Sam, he should have shoved that tall, slender, rumpled body back out the gates and had Enrique send her on her way.
    But he hadn’t. He had given in to the impulse, inspired by those huge brown eyes that brought back feelings he’d thought long dead, by the long legs and defiant mouth and whatever lay beneath that loose cotton shirt of hers. And it was too late to do anything about it now.
    He could only hope things held off for a while longer. That he could convince someone to take her and Soledad out of the country before all hell broke loose. Sam wouldn’t go. They’d talked about it for years now, and his health had deteriorated to such a point that there was no longer any question of his leaving. He’d be gone soon enough, and not back to the country he’d turned his back on.
    Damn, she even smelled good. Clean and fresh and feminine, not like the tropical profusion that filled the tangled courtyard of the villa, not like the overripe musk that Soledad favored. She smelled of something light and delicate and so appealing that it twisted his gut in a knot. It was no wonder Ortega was panting at her heels, no wonder Carlos had sent word once he’d accosted her on the road into Puente del Norte.
    So maybe he deserved to play with fire for a change. She carried no weapons—his professional search had ascertained that, along with the fact that her breasts were small and soft and warm, that her hips were slightly bony beneath the jeans and her rear was the most delectable thing he’d seen in years. She’d have no choice but to sit and wait for him to decide what to do with her. And he’dhave to damn well make sure that Ortega hadn’t gotten to her first.
    “Jake.” The sound of her voice broke through his dangerous fantasies, and he halted under the portico that provided much-needed shade in this tropical climate, his grip sliding down her arm to capture her wrist. “Why won’t you believe me?”
    He looked back at her. She was just a few inches shorter than his own six feet, something he wasn’t used to in this land of diminutive women. The loose cotton shirt was open at the neck, revealing a tanned column of throat, and at the base of her neck there was a faint sheen of moisture. He had the sudden, almost uncontrollable urge to lean forward and place his mouth against the dewy warmth, and his grip around her narrow wrist tightened.
    “Because I have a strong sense of self-preservation,” he replied shortly. “I wouldn’t have made it to forty in my business if I believed every pretty lady who came up to me with some outlandish tale.”
    “But won’t you feel like a fool when you find out I was telling the truth?” she persisted.
    “I don’t mind feeling like a fool,” he drawled. “As long as I’m a live fool. Come along, Allison Henderson.”
    “Don’t call me that!”
    Jake could feel her pulse hammering beneath his thumb, pounding