by Zoe Dawson
The way she kissed him told him an aching story. He had much more in mind before he shut those thoughts off.
At least the hard-on she gave him would keep him alert. His eyes went over the handcuffs. People did strange things when they were threatened. He got that, but he couldn’t trust her right now.
He perked up as a jaguar padded across his line of vision; the cat had something in its mouth, and he was relieved it had already hunted and killed. He wasn’t keen to be on the menu, and a sated predator would leave them alone to a certain extent. He did remember that jaguars were very territorial. “Keep on moving,” he murmured, one predator to another as the cat paused and its big gold eyes swung his way. It stared at him for a moment, then turned away and melted into the trees.
Two hours before dawn, he woke her up. He needed to get some sleep. He left her cuffed to his pack, and she wasn’t too happy about that, but he didn’t argue. Just closed his eyes and went to sleep.
When he woke up, she was still watching the jungle. The pink of dawn blushed across the sky. The sun rose slowly. Giant kapok and rubber trees shadowed the Andean valley, and the ground spread with a gray-white mist that wrapped the enormous palms and curled toward the sky, where it hovered, hiding in the jungle canopy.
“I’ll get more water,” he rasped.
“We should have enough—”
“For a quick wash,” he said over his shoulder when he reached the zippered doorway. The air was already steamy as the jungle stirred. He answered nature’s call, and when he came back with the water, he set it on the small stove to boil.
She was munching on something and she handed him a packet, which he opened to find granola and dried fruit. Supplementing that with a power bar, he found it took the edge off his hunger. He checked their socks and boots to find them all dry, shaking out the garments to make sure their were no unwanted guests.
He handed over hers. She took them, her gaze trying to connect with his, but he was still not ready to have the kind of conversation that could get much too heated. It was best to leave that for a time when they were much safer and less exposed in the jungle.
With that thought, he froze again, the hair rising on the back of his neck. He finished lacing his boots and rose. “Stay here,” he ordered.
“Russell!” she hissed and raised her arm.
He looked around and went to uncuff her. “So help me God, if you’re not here—”
“I’m not going anywhere without you.” At his skeptical look, she made a pained expression and said, “I promise.”
He pocketed both the cuffs and the key, still not exactly trusting her. She could be very easily biding her time before she tried to give him the slip again.
He ghosted out of camp, ignoring the sounds around him, the movement of creatures, the drop of nuts from trees. A small green iguana skittered, then vanished into the thicket. As he crouched and listened, he heard something barely discernable. Someone trying to move stealthily.
Even as he drew his weapon, he got the feeling in his gut, the one that never failed him and now warned him someone, not something, was out there watching them.
Rock scowled. The land around him was lush and untouched, but as he scoured the jungle floor, he caught something, a piece of disturbed earth near a root of a tree with a direct line to their tent. He could see Neve breaking camp and storing everything away. She was wary and aware of her surroundings. That made him feel a whole heck of a lot better.
His heart sped up. Even as he looked, he could find no signs that there had been a human here, no broken fronds, no footprints, no evidence.
He just knew it in his gut.
Someone was shadowing them, and he had no idea why.
But he did know one thing.
Their shadow was damn good.
Chapter Seven
Russell was really starting to get under Neve’s skin, and not because he was so damn sexy, she thought as she changed her clothes. Russell had changed as well, his discarded clothing from the day before folded on his pack. The fact that he’d kept her from talking to him for all this time rankled. She’d had her reasons, not to mention the fact that she simply wanted to thank him for coming to her rescue.
She wanted to tell the stubborn jerk that she was sorry!
He stalked back into camp, looking like the big, bad Marine he was. There were no illusions here. Russell was in full-out assault mode.
“Let’s move out.”
She checked her weapon and tucked it into the leather holster at the small of her back. “Why did you go out into the jungle?”
Giving her an approving look, his eyes still guarded, he said, “It’s nothing.” He looked down at his watch, which included a compass. He glanced around and then found his bearings. It was uncanny and okay…sexy as hell…that he knew exactly where he was going. That was definitely from his training. Suddenly, she was very happy that he was here beside her, even if he was now wary and had actually cuffed her to his backpack.
She could fume all she wanted, but it served Neve right for treating him like she had, even though her motives were protective…of him.
Russell had been clear about conversation, but Neve wanted to clear the air with him.
Trying not to remember what it had been like to wake up all over him, enjoying the feel of a man—no, this man—beneath her was damn hard. It was like sleeping on a rock, though, every inch of him ripped and hard. His nickname was certainly appropriate. He was a rock.
He reached out his hand. “Backstabbing ladies first.” His tone was gruff with the anger he still held on to.
She sighed, and her mouth tightened. “You know the way.”
When she didn’t move, he started walking. “Stay close,” he said, and turned away from her.
He climbed over fallen trees, pushed through underbrush, hacked through thickets. They took a rest in the shade of a cropping of granite boulders protruding from the hillside. Red-and-blue macaws were perched on the jagged rock face in little colorful clusters, and as they approached, they shrieked at the invasion. A dozen birds flew into the trees, giving away their position.
They drank some of the purified water and ate another power bar. There was no sign of civilization for miles and miles. She was sure there were villages tucked into the jungle and probably many more baddies out there, especially drug smugglers and kidnappers. She hoped the EDL was far away to the south.
She also couldn’t forget Panamanian border guards patrolled the area and also had checkpoints along here.
They might be skeptical she was a nun. They would never believe that Russell was a priest.
She laughed softly at the thought, and he turned to give her an inquisitive look.
“I was just thinking that you couldn’t pass for a priest.”
He gave a brief laugh and nodded. “That is a stretch on a good day.”
“Russell—”
“No, Neve. Not here. I’ll let you have your say when we are both in the right frame of mind. I’m not there yet.”
“I just want to say I’m sorry,” she said, in a rush to get it out and off her chest. It had been festering there ever since he’d saved her at the EDL camp.
He pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a terrible headache, and she bit her lip. She’d really done a number on him. He was affected by her duplicity, and that meant he must have some kind of emotional stake in her. Who was she kidding? How could she keep ignoring the fact that he had a huge, major jones for her?
“Neve, please cut me a break here. I can get you to Boca de Cupé and find the White Falcon for you. I can even kill the bastard, but I’m not having this discussion now. It’s too dangerous. Is that clear?”
She thrust out her chin. Geez, he was being so high-handed. But she guessed she could cut him some slack. He had gone through hell with her. Because of her. Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded. “Trust me, I can cut you some slack.”
“Trust you?” he said, his voice strained, then his jaw tigh
tened. He looked away, reality striking home, and a cold feeling settled in her gut. Clenching her jaw against that awful sliding sensation in the pit of her stomach, she forced herself to take a deep breath. It was a full minute before she could speak.
“You don’t trust me,” she said, her voice hollow.
“No,” he responded, his voice rough. “I don’t.”
She didn’t look at him. She gazed out to the valley, her arms locked around her middle. Her voice was very quiet when she answered, “I can’t say I really blame you.”
The silence was brittle, strained. Neve could feel it right down to her bones. Suddenly drained, she rose when he did and followed his stiff shoulders.
It was too true. She had betrayed his trust. She’d lost it when she’d been working so hard to make him back off in the only way she could. Her words had no impact. She felt frustrated and unsettled because she had lost something…precious, yet she put one foot in front of the other. Now keenly aware of how much she’d relied on their friendship, their unspoken bond.
She hated Ammon Set for that, too. For fracturing their connection and making Russell look at her like she didn’t deserve his confidence.
Guilt rushed like an invisible force through her. She closed her eyes briefly, wishing with all her heart that she realized the pilot wasn’t sexist, but was considering all the crew when he’d made his decision to wait and see. If she had chosen to heed his warning, realizing that it had been too dangerous to go down for those people, she might not have been injured. That was a bitter pill to swallow.
Without her broken collarbone hampering her efforts, she might have been able to save at least two of his siblings. It was as if that botched rescue, regardless of her being cleared or not, set the tone for her whole career. Maybe she didn’t even belong in the Coast Guard anymore.
Maybe she had ruined her vows, her duty, that day she’d lost those people, and now she was disgraced, if not in the eyes of the Coast Guard, in her own eyes.
Her interaction with Russell drove that home.
How was she supposed to get past those lost lives, lives that had been entrusted to her and the crew?
Not for the first time she wondered how she was going to face her team when she returned to active duty—if she made it back home in one piece.
She felt a bit frantic to think that something would happen to Russell, and that feeling didn’t leave her as she followed him, the jungle claiming them once again.
They moved through the jungle at as fast a pace as the machete wielded by Russell could get them. When they heard voices, Russell ducked and pulled her into the trees. It was just the normal everyday conversation of locals and she said, “We could stop here for lunch.”
“Let me do a little recon. Stay here.”
She sat, not daring to remove her pack in case they had to run. About ten minutes later, Russell was back.
“It’s safe. We eat and then head out.”
She nodded.
The women wore bright, colorful cotton skirts, and men loincloths and colorful shorts. Some women had intricately beaded tops and others were bare-breasted, but all of them smiled warmly.
They headed down the center of town, an uneven dirt road not more than twenty feet wide. Buildings constructed of wood and thatch, on stilts easily ten feet off the ground, were close to each other.
Russell’s gaze scanned the area as he walked, keeping his weapon concealed. They entered the communal hut with large plank floors, rough-hewn tree limbs supporting the thatched roof. They sat on the floor and were served fried fish, plantains, and fruit. It was delicious and Neve finished everything.
While Russell paid for their meal and talked to one of the men, Neve got up and browsed the flat, woven wall hangings. She wished she had room in her pack for a couple but refrained from buying any. This wasn’t a tourist trip. She was here on serious business.
It wasn’t long before Russell motioned to her they were leaving. As they headed out of the village in a casual stroll, the thick jungle closed around them, blocking sunlight, and cooler temperatures created a thick, rolling mist over the forest floor. The beauty of it didn’t escape her, their steps slower because they couldn’t see the ground well.
She swiped her face and the back of her neck as she walked. No breeze and the sun barely reached the forest floor. As they walked, she heard the rush of water and it got louder as they got closer to the source.
Finally, they broke out into an open area with a small stream and cascading sheets of water from rocks fifteen feet above them. Gusts of cool air and spray from the falls lifted fine hairs on either side of her face, feeling good on her skin.
“Should we camp here?”
He shook his head. “Too likely animals will come here to drink. We’re better off heading into the trees over in that direction.” He pointed farther to the north. “But this would be a good place to take a quick shower, gather water.”
“Shower?” she said, looking around. The area was enclosed by jungle, and there was probably no one for miles. Neve wasn’t exactly self-conscious about her body, but it seemed prudent to be constantly on alert. “Is that a good idea?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll stand guard until you’re done, and you can do the same for me. One of us should be armed at all times.”
Her eyes caressed the length of him, and it was easy to remember how Russell looked naked—all that hard-packed muscle. For sure, one of them was armed and dangerous. When she met his eyes, they narrowed with a lethal quality that was so much a part of him it cut off her breath for a second. That was all the tell she was going to get. Maybe he hid it well from others, but not from her. Just below the surface he tensed, right along his ribs. He was affected by her, but he had incredible control.
Thank God he did, because she was losing her perspective. Ever since he’d saved her, she wanted to touch him, fondle him, move her hands over the contours of his body. Even when he’d cuffed her, looking so angry, she couldn’t help wanting him, drawing comfort from how solid he was.
His anger was still apparent, and he wouldn’t agree to talk about it. He was worried about letting go of it when they had to pull together to make this work. She caught her breath, thinking what would be left between them when that anger was burned away, appeased. The very thought jangled her nerves.
There were so many complications, but again, out here where they were fighting for their lives, they all seemed inconsequential.
Maybe it was true they weren’t compatible, but the barriers between them—and civilization—seemed so far away. Here, in the jungle, they had to rely on each other, and she wondered at how hard she’d fought to keep him away from her. Now she couldn’t deny how good it felt to have him here.
“Let’s find a place to set up camp, and as soon as it gets dark, then you can go first,” she said, tearing her eyes away from him.
He cleared his throat, running his hands through his hair. “Sounds like a plan.”
He headed over the rocks and across the stream. Needing to distance herself, she followed but not as closely as before. Aware of the thickening sensation in her chest, she stared at his wide, retreating back, feeling strangely misplaced.
She was sorry now for how she’d treated him. Caught up in her desperation to not include anyone else in this mess she’d made, it had seemed the logical plan. But she’d lost his trust, and that hurt tremendously, worse than anything she’d ever experienced in her life.
Aware this train of thought was only going to make her feel worse, she focused on moving. When they stopped to make camp, she dived into the preparations. The busywork would keep her mind off the deeply buried feelings that were now surfacing.
Once the tent was assembled and secluded along with their packs, they each pulled out a clean set of clothes along with some citronella wilderness wash—formulated to keep the bugs at bay and suitable for everything—microfiber towels and washcloths.
She was under no illusions here; getting a shower on thi
s expedition was a luxury.
When they reached the waterfall, Russell pulled his T-shirt over his head and reached for his zipper. He didn’t even wait for her to turn around, which she promptly did when he gave her a provocative sidelong glance. “Do you think we lost the EDL?” she asked, keeping away from the kind of conversations Russell refused to have and trying with all her might to keep from imagining him…naked.
“They’ve probably found the boat wherever it landed. I’d say they have no idea where we are now.”
The different sound patterns and the splashing said he was under the flowing water. There was a noise to her left and she whipped around to see what it was. The rustling in the bushes made her stare intently and watch to make sure it wasn’t anything dangerous. When nothing happened, Neve realized that turning brought Russell into glorious view.
He stood in profile to her, a body fueled by pure testosterone, his head back and his eyes closed as the water sluiced over heavy, delineated muscle from his broad shoulders, impressive arms, over his wide chest, to his lean, tight waist, sleek hips, hard butt, thick thighs, and defined calves. Russell, from head to toe, was breath-stealingly gorgeous.
As she stared at him, he brought his chin down and opened his eyes. Turning toward her, his gaze, incandescent blue from the lamp he’d hung on an overhang, slammed into hers. She was unable to look away from him, her chest suddenly aching. The longing caught up with her all at once in one big tidal wave of need, and damn but it hurt. More than anything, more than her next breath, she wanted to step into his arms and rest her head on his shoulder. She wanted to hold on to him and never let go.
She shivered, not from being wet, but from all the feelings welling up inside her.
He stepped out of the spray and bent to retrieve his towel, wrapping it around his waist. “Your turn,” he said as he walked down the natural shelf of rocks that created a crude stairway, his body glistening.
