MERCENARY'S PROMISE
Silhouette Romantic Suspense
September 2009

Wilderness guide Bethany Darrow was desperate to save her kidnapped sister in Colombia, but lying about having the money to pay dark, mysterious mercenary Xavier Monero would cost her dearly. Especially when their forced proximity during a dangerous jungle rescue unleashed a smoldering, irresistible attraction.

Xavier knew the beautiful American was trouble the second he laid his eyes on her. Taking Bethany on the mission was a risk, and he wasn't prepared for the peril she placed on his heart. Suddenly he wanted more than fortune—he wanted Bethany, body and soul. But everything comes with a price….

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4 Stars by Romantic Times Magazine

EXCERPT

"What do you mean the negotiations are finished?" Bethany Darrow leaned across Stephen Grimes's desk, her hand tipping a stack of papers, scattering them to the floor.

The lawyer for Tri-Continent Engineering looked at the mess, then at her. She didn't bother to apologize. "You are not finished. My sister is out in the jungle somewhere. Who knows what kind of hell FARC is putting her through? You can't just leave her there. You owe her."

Two years ago, a rebel group kidnapped Samantha. Her younger sister had been surveying a stretch of land for a pipeline for TCE, and then one day, she was gone. Taken by Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionaria de Colombia—Ejército del Pueblo, better known as FARC. And while they seized hundreds of people each year, making millions to support their radical militant army and increase their hold into the drug trade, this was her baby sister.

His expression placid, Grimes ran a hand over his thinning gray hair, adjusted his tie and straightened his shoulders. "TCE doesn't owe Samantha anything. She's a contractor who knew the risks. Now calm down."

Tossing her dark brown ponytail over her shoulder to fall down her back, Bethany dropped into the expensive leather office chair and reined in her anger. Years of experience as a wilderness guide in southern Utah had taught her that an emotional overreaction in the face of a bad situation led to mistakes.

Grimes's office wasn't the Utah wilderness, but the principle applied. "You have to understand, you're our last hope." She pulled a picture from her wallet and flipped it toward Grimes. It was the last one sent by the kidnappers—via a released hostage—to show that her sister still lived. "We have proof of life. Recent proof. We're close to getting her back this time."

He didn't bother to look at the picture but pushed it toward her with the tip of his index finger. "I know this is frustrating. But legally, this is what's best."

"For whom?" Bethany snapped.

"For everyone," he replied.

God, what a lie.

He continued, "I didn't want this. I want Samantha to come home just as much as you do."

"As much as me? Not even close," Bethany countered, trying to wrap her brain around TCE's pullout from negotiations for her sister's release. "Why are you abandoning her after two years? To screw with us?"

Grimes glared at her. Despite his age, his eyes were clear and hard as lapis. "Of course not."

"Then why?" Bethany pressed.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "The agreements with Express Engineers broke down. Samantha might be our contractor, but she is their employee. If they were willing to pay part of the ransom and sign a statement admitting full responsibility, TCE might be willing to pay the rest as a goodwill gesture, but without that, my hands are tied."

Express Engineers—the company that sent Samantha to TCE. They were worse than TCE in that they claimed sympathy, but when it came down to action, they backed away.

Bethany clenched her hands into fists, afraid that if she didn't do something with them she might slap the lawyer. "So no one wants to admit responsibility and my sister is left to die in a no-man's-land of legalese."

Grimes remained silent. It didn't surprise her. To say much more might admit culpability, and that was not in the best interest of TCE.

And Grimes always did what was best for TCE.

"So what happens now?" she asked.

"The Colombian kidnapping task force is still working the case."

"And they've been so successful," Bethany said, with a snort of disgust.

Grimes sighed. "This isn't easy for me, either."

She picked up the photo off the desktop. The woman in the picture bore little resemblance to the sister she remembered.

Holding a newspaper dated from last week, she was thinner. Her mahogany hair was chopped shoulder length and bleached pale by the Colombian sun, the image a far cry from the longhaired, coiffed woman she knew. They'd beaten her as well, and even though it was the hundredth time Bethany looked at the picture, it still made her want to cry.

Next to Samantha stood Cesar, her sister's jailer. With his shaved head and clean clothes, he grinned as if posing for a portrait. Bastard. The sight of him made Bethany want to shred the picture, to erase his mocking grin from the world, but reason ruled.

She turned her attention back to Samantha. It was her eyes that upset Bethany the most. They were the same bright green as hers, but an unfamiliar fear filled them along with a weariness and a resignation that Bethany wasn't ready to admit plagued her, as well. At least, not yet.

Not even when Grimes and TCE decided to abandon her and her family.

Samantha needed her, she reminded herself. Her mother needed her. And she'd be damned if she was going to fail them. She'd rafted rivers that people claimed were death traps, and when she had reached the end, she'd screamed her success to the world.

TCE wasn't going to beat her. They were people. Politics. Nothing more.

Bethany kissed the photo before she slid it in the back pocket of her jeans. Hold on, Samantha. I'll get you out of there.

Standing, Bethany tugged at the edges of her pale green, well-worn T-shirt. "Don't worry about Samantha, Mr. Grimes. This situation isn't your problem anymore."

"I wish there was something I could do." Grimes stood and came around the desk. More than six feet tall, he towered over her with the top of her head reaching just below his shoulder. "What are you going to tell your mother?"

Bethany looked up at him. "My mother? I thought you knew."

They'd met with him at least once a month, if not more, since Samantha's abduction. He'd talked with them for hours on end, explaining the myriad issues surrounding an international kidnapping. Hell, he'd seen her cry. Grimes was an important and annoying part of their lives. It seemed odd that he'd missed something so monumental.

"Knew what?" he inquired.

"They operated last night and put her into a chemically induced coma to allow her brain to heal."

Grimes's cheeks turned red then paled as he realized the order of events. He clasped her shoulder with a wrinkled hand. "I am so sorry. You should have said something."

His hand still on her shoulder, Grimes led her to the door.

She shrugged him off. He voiced the right sentiments, but his actions spoke louder.

"What now?" he asked her.

It was a good question. On the upside, now that TCE had abandoned her, she couldn't hurt negotiations. Hell, there weren't any. There would be no more days spent by the phone waiting for a call. No one to give her false hope. No more sitting by her mother's bedside and lying to her—telling her that her youngest daughter would be coming home soon.

Bethany knew what she was going to do. She wouldn't listen to lawyers who told her to not interfere. She'd ignore the men and women paid to cover the company's ass. She'd do what she should have done the moment she found out that FARC took her sister—contact Angel and Fiona.

The ex-mercenary and his famous reporter wife had become good friends with her when she worked as a movie consultant on the same film as Angel. In a short time, she'd come to know and respect both for their tenacity and commitment to a variety of humanitarian causes. When the film had wrapped, the three parted as friends.

She didn't know how good of friends until Samantha was kidnapped—they were the first people who called her when it hit the news. They had a friend in Colombia, they told her. One who specialized in rescuing FARC kidnap victims.

But she'd let Grimes talk her out of hiring a mercenary. She'd believed the lawyer when he told her that negotiations were best. That if she were patient, her sister would be released.

Both she and Grimes had been fools.

No more waiting.

She might not have the seven hundred thousand dollars FARC wanted, but Angel and Fiona were on her side. Add a phone call and a plane ticket to Colombia and she'd get Samantha out. It was a crazy idea, but then so was the situation.

Besides, there wasn't another choice.

Bethany shrugged. "I'm not going to do anything. Talk to the embassy. Wait. Hope that the situation improves."

He looked down at her, suspicion in his eyes. "Nothing foolish though, right?"

Bethany looked up at him, not surprised at his perception. He knew her well enough to know who she was beneath the skin. "Of course not," she lied.

"Good. Don't." Still, he didn't seem convinced. "Let the Colombian government do their job."

Right. Like TCE did theirs? She wasn't putting her bruised faith in politics, corporations or foreign governments anymore. She'd put her faith in a specialist—someone who knew FARC and had beaten them before. Angel's friend.

Xavier Monero.

From the book MERCENARY'S PROMISE by Sharron McClellan

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The edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A., Copyright © 2009