Restless Soul - Alex Archer [4]
Wallem managed to stuff the tail-touching koi into his pack after taking out some probably necessary supplies. “We’ll take it all, Sarge. The slope heads just left this unattended. Maybe the owners are dead. It’s all ours and—”
“We can’t take it all. There’s too much,” Gary said sharply as he tried to heft one of the small Buddha statues and discovered it was made of solid gold. “We’ll only get out of here with some of it.”
“A king’s ransom,” Wallem gushed.
Gary heard some of the men talking outside, and then felt a faint vibration through the stones when thunder sounded again.
“Gotta get going,” Gary said. “Gotta get to the firebase. Probably have to clear some ground there tomorrow for a helicopter pad. Gotta get there before dark.”
Wallem called for Moore and Sanduski. “In a few minutes, Sarge. Give us a few more minutes. It’d only be fair for everyone to get something.”
Lightning flashed and thunder followed closely. Then another sound came that Gary didn’t place at first. The rain pelted through the roof and rat-a-tat-tatted on the stone and the golden statues. The light turned gray, but not so dim that the golden statues couldn’t be seen.
Moore gave a whoop and brushed by Gary.
Sanduski stopped in the opening and gaped. “Fort Knox!” He shouted back over his shoulder. “Load up.”
The rest of the group squeezed past Gary.
More than satisfied with his share of the haul, the soldier stepped out into the downpour. He tipped his head back to let the rain wash the sweat off.
His pack felt heavier, and his pockets bulged. He fought the grin that spread across his face and lost, letting out a whoop. He wished he could take one of those Buddhas.
“Grab fast and move out!” Gary called back to his men.
No use looking at his map in this dreary muck. He’d rely on the compass and his gut instinct.
Lightning flashed and the ground rocked again. Above the patter of cleansing rain, the whisper-hiss of machine-gun fire stole his breath. Mud spat up around his feet. Hot fire slammed into his legs.
Gary screamed.
“Wallem!” he managed to call out as he fell. “Company. Moore, get out here. We’ve got—”
1
“Company. Such beautiful company you are, Annja Creed. And I am very much enjoying the pleasures of it.” He stood behind her at the sliding glass door and slid his fingers through her silky chestnut hair.
She leaned against him, happily discovering he hadn’t put on a shirt. At five feet ten inches, Annja was nearly his height.
“And I am so very much enjoying this vacation, Luartaro.”
“Lu, please.” He leaned around her and softly kissed her cheek. “How many times do I have to ask you to call me Lu? It’s what my family calls me. And it’s much easier for you to pronounce.”
“Lu.” She blew out the breath she’d been holding, fluttering the hair that hung against her forehead. “Lu. Lu. Lu. This vacation was long overdue.”
He brought a long strand of her hair to his nose and inhaled. “I wish it could go on forever, Annja, this vacation.”
“But we’ve only got another four days,” she said. “Maybe we should leave this bungalow and see a bit of the countryside? We didn’t travel halfway around the world to Thailand to spend all our time in bed.”
“Speak for yourself.” He chuckled.
Annja reveled in his voice, throaty and rich with a sensuous Argentine accent. She waited for him to speak again, but when he didn’t, she edged away and pressed herself against the glass door. It was cool with the rain that had blotted out the July sun. She followed a rivulet with her finger as it slithered down the pane.
The patter was gentle, like his breath on her shoulder, and it made the green of the trees beyond their cabin more intense.
They’d found this resort on the internet, though there were no public internet connections available in the lodge or any of the cabins. Wireless service didn’t exist here. Neither were there television sets, nor telephones, save an old rotary one in the office. With that they had both immediately agreed on the place,