Accidental Commando Read Online Free Page A

absorb. If it wasn’t for the bruise on her jaw and the persistent hangover that throbbed at the base of her skull, she might be tempted to suspect she was still back in her hotel in a champagne-induced coma. This kind of thing just didn’t happen to people from Packenham Junction.
    They were meeting the major in the family wing of the governor’s palace. According to her travel brochure, the three-story structure was centuries old and a showpiece of Spanish Colonial architecture. There were guided tours of the public areas like the grand ballroom and the reception hall, but this area was off-limits to tourists. Not that she’d had the chance to sightsee as Tyler had rushed her through a side door and down a portrait gallery. Still, this room he’d brought her to was breathtaking enough. It was all dark wood beams, pale peach-tinted plaster and floors of glazed terra-cotta tile. Lush bouquets of tropical flowers rested on delicate, gilded tables. A long couch and several chairs upholstered in ivory brocade were grouped in the center of the floor.
    But the major hadn’t asked her to sit. He obviously hadn’t expected this interview to last long. Tyler hadn’t gotten comfortable, either. He had taken up a post beside the potted ferns that flanked the doors, his feet braced apart and his hands clasped behind his back. Though he wasn’t looking at her, Emily had the feeling he was fully aware of everything she did.
    On the other hand, just because she was conscious of everything he did didn’t mean the interest was mutual. Not that she was interested. The sooner she could be rid of him, the better. She’d never had much tolerance for take-charge men, no matter how sexy they happened to be.
    She slid the strap of her sundress back on her shoulder and crossed her arms. “El Gato?”
    “It’s what the assassin is known as,” the major replied.
    “And you really don’t know what he looks like?”
    “We have only general descriptions.”
    “How is that possible? With the number of surveillance cameras around nowadays, I would have thought he’d have been photographed by now.”
    “Not at a crime scene.”
    “What about his passport?”
    “He would have several passports in different names, and in all probability, he’s been filmed by airport security innumerable times, but that doesn’t allow us to track him. Surveillance footage of crowds is useless unless Intelligence knows what he looks like in the first place.”
    “There must have been someone else who could identify him.”
    “Miss Wright, the main reason no one can identify this criminal is because it’s his practice to leave no witnesses. The body of a young construction worker was found three blocks from the plaza an hour ago. He had been stripped and strangled.”
    She remembered the casual way El Gato had struck her. And the bullet holes in her hotel room wall at the height of her head. If it hadn’t been for Tyler…
    She hugged her arms more tightly across her chest. “So he’s dangerous. But since when does the United States Army concern itself with catching criminals? We’re not even on American soil. What about Interpol? Or the Rocaman Police? From what the cowboy told me—” she lifted one hand to gesture toward Tyler “—this sounds like a job for cops, not soldiers.”
    “We aren’t concerned with apprehending El Gato,” the major said. “We want only to stop him.”
    “That still doesn’t answer my question.”
    “El Gato’s target is an American citizen, specifically our envoy to Rocama. Our mission is to protect the envoy.”
    “You’re acting as bodyguards? Is that what you’re telling me?”
    “Essentially, yes.”
    “All right, then why don’t you just stick the envoy in a bulletproof Humvee and put a bunch of sharpshooters in helicopters? Why all this secrecy? Don’t you trust the Rocamans?”
    A faint buzzer sounded before Major Redinger could reply. He took a cell phone from his pocket, listened briefly,