by Zoe Dawson
He gathered her against him, pushing away from the wall and moving to the bed. They climbed on, and she wrapped herself around him. Drained by the wringing climax, he inhaled unevenly and buried his face in her neck, the rush of blood still pounding through him. He lay unmoving until his pulse quieted. Stirring, his body heavy, his muscles slow to respond, he dredged up what little strength he had left.
Sensation wrenched loose in his chest, and he closed his eyes and rested his head against hers, his throat suddenly contracting. This first time with her had been amazing.
They had a ways to go, things to figure out, and he had his duty to perform, but they would need to talk. Not wanting to think about that right now, he drenched his senses with the heated scent of her, trying not to think at all.
Finally getting it together, he lifted his head. “Look at me, Renata,” he murmured.
She drew a deep sated breath, then opened her eyes, and Max gazed down at her. Her expression softened as he caressed her jaw.
“You doing all right?”
She nodded. “So much for keeping it simple.”
He grinned. For some reason that made him feel a hell of a lot better. “Yeah, I’m sorry for being the catalyst that made you realize you weren’t quite sure you’d made the right choices in your career.”
Releasing a reluctant sigh, she gave him a kiss on the mouth. “It’s all right. It wasn’t really your fault. It just felt good to blame you. Thanks for being my punching bag.”
He gazed down at her, sobering as he stroked her temple with his thumb. This hadn’t been part of the game plan—to fall into bed with her.
“Damn, I forgot to use a condom. I wanted you so damn bad.”
She smoothed her hand along his jaw. “It’s all right. I’m protected, Max. Don’t worry.”
His tight body relaxed.
He hadn’t been prepared for her meltdown, hadn’t expected all his defenses to drop. There was no way he could have stopped once he had her naked. But even if he had been able to put on the brakes, he couldn’t have done that to her. Not when she had given him that kind of emotional honesty. But that didn’t excuse the fact that he’d had no means to protect her. That had been reckless.
She was dangerous.
She leaned against him, settling in. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” she said wearily. “We need sleep.”
She was right. But even as she drifted off, he couldn’t seem to stop his whirling mind. It went all over the place and finally ended up at who had shot at them from the ground? It could have been Al’Irada’s men, but Max got the feeling they weren’t. Angar Said had been trying to keep a low profile, and the force that had been on the ground was more substantial than a small detachment of a terror cell.
The shooters definitely could have been drug runners worried about their operation being discovered and shut down, but would they be stupid enough to down a military helicopter? Inviting that kind of scrutiny wasn’t in their clandestine way. The chopper and SEALs posed no threat to them.
Then an idea popped into his head, and the more he thought about it, the more it seemed right to him.
Those bastards who shot at them could have been Corta Cartel, a dangerous Argentinian group that were known for their ruthless and unforgiving ways. The shot callers in the organization were after their quarter million in cash that three Marines had stolen from them. The Marines had been captured by cartel hunters and given up everything they knew under torture. Namely, that they had not only stolen the money but kidnapped NCIS Agent Shea Palmer’s brother, Corporal Jason Palmer, who then turned the tables on the three Marines, took the money and their chopper and hid it somewhere in the area. After Shea and the SEALs had investigated the area where they had clashed with Palmer, where the Marines had “accidentally” sent him over a cliff, yet there was no body found, not at the base or in the jungle. But Shea had found one of Jason’s dog tags. They could only assume he had made it out of there alive. Shea had remained in Paraguay to search for her lost brother.
The cartel knew the military was involved and Jason’s name. He was the only man alive who knew where their money was. Maybe they were looking for answers or planning on capturing military personnel to force the US to give up Palmer once he was found. Not going to happen, but the cartel didn’t care. These evil bastards thought they were above any law, including international law.
If that was the case, they would be gunning for Max and wouldn’t give up until they found him. The earthquake might have slowed them down, but it wouldn’t stop them. They had resources and plenty of men on their payroll to do the job.
Then a chilling thought occurred to him. If they had been lying in wait to down a military transport, then they knew Max had fallen from the chopper. Once they couldn’t find him, they knew the American military would never leave behind their teammate. They could be waiting until Fast Lane and the others showed up and ambush them.
That made his heart beat faster. He realized that they couldn’t stay here. As soon as Carolina was back, the three of them would have to leave. It wasn’t going to go over well with their host, but there was no choice. By helping them, she’d put herself in the line of fire with the cartel.
As he drifted to sleep, he regretted that immensely.
10
Dodger came to with a quick start, his heart hammering and his body feeling like pounded meat. Before he was even fully aware, he pulled the handgun and removed the safety with his thumb.
He moved gingerly, then more rapidly when he realized he wasn’t injured, just stunned. It was quiet, and he peeked his head above the rocks where he’d been hidden. The clearing was empty. He took a few moments to calm his breathing. The good news was there were no bodies. The bad news was that if that was the case, then his teammates and Anna had been captured by unknown enemies.
The chill he felt congealed into real fear. Fear unlike anything Dodger had ever known gripped his brain and damn near paralyzed him. He leaned on the boulders, working at pulling himself together. Panicking would only get Anna and his teammates killed. He couldn’t help them if he wasn’t in control. Using his combat breathing, he slowed his heart rate, pressed the fear back, not gone, but manageable.
It was also clear to him that these bloody bastards had been waiting for them, which probably meant they were the ones who shot Max down and were looking for their dog handler. Did this mean they had him?
He stayed low and skirted the clearing, listening for any movement or conversation, but there was nothing but night sounds.
He rose from his crouch and entered the clearing. There were signs of a scuffle, then footprints leading in the opposite direction from the scratching on the ground. Dodger was sure the markings were from a makeshift litter and that someone had pulled Max out of here. After closer scrutiny, he also found dog prints, bringing a sigh of relief that Jugs was all right, and those of a boot…a smaller print…a woman?
He straightened and turned toward the north where the footprints led. In the distance, without looking at his watch, he could feel dawn approaching. It was something that had become ingrained in him during his SBS days and transferred easily to being a SEAL. They, as a clandestine group, rarely worked missions during the day. Night was their preferred MO, shadow warriors, ghosts, slipping in and out without sound or disturbance until the moment when they struck. Then they were rock-solid, flesh and blood ass-kickers.
All he wanted to do was find his teammates and Anna, flip the script. He couldn’t face his LT if he lost his brothers or look Max in the eyes if he failed to protect his favorite sister. The jungle was steaming—nothing new, the temperatures barely dipped at night. Dodger followed the signs of passing, the arseholes who had his brothers and Anna obviously not caring who could follow or were inept about covering their tracks in the jungle.
The trail was easy to follow, the hacking of the underbrush already accomplished. He was on alert, listening for anyone else and hearing only the squawk of macaws and the occasional wh
ite flash of the monkey faces skulking overhead. He simply ghosted along the trail, his head on a swivel as he kept moving toward the location where they’d taken his friends.
The blur of faint, indistinct light filtered through the heavy canopy, and even as dawn broke, the rain forest was wet, hot, and dark.
As he neared what looked like a clearing, his focus intensified, and he scanned constantly. The sound of voices sent him scurrying toward a large tree. He pushed aside giant palm fronds.
A camp.
There were some people moving around, but not many. Someone was working a fire to get it started for breakfast. The smell of cooking wafted into the air on a thin band of gray smoke. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it.
The land around the camp was lush and untouched. He climbed over fallen trees to an outcrop of boulders protruding from the hillside, natural cover. Again, it was as if they didn’t seem to care about sentries or security. No one moved except for the cooks at the fire. Wait, movement in a big tent caught his eye as someone moved across the threshold.
The command tent. If they had prisoners, that’s where they’d be for interrogation. Dodger rose and battle crawled around the perimeter until he came up behind the tent.
“…ask again. What were you doing out in that clearing?”
“I told you,” Anna said, her voice perfectly weary, guileless. “I’m a National Geographic photographer and these men are my security. We’re out here for pictures of the damage from the quake. We happened to be in Asunción when it happened, and I got the assignment from my editor to get footage for a news story.”
“Is that so?” a deep voice said. The same man who had been speaking when he’d come up to the tent.
“We’ll see about that.” There was a pause, then he said, “Take them to the holding tent and feed them. Watch them closely.”
“Yes, Mr. Mendoza,” the man said.
He heard grunting and pushing, and Saint say,” Stop shoving her, you animal.”
There was another grunt. This one full of pain. Sounded like they’d hit his brother with the hard end of a rifle butt.
Dodger gritted his teeth, itching to assault, but now was not the time. He was about to move when he heard the leader again.
“We can’t take the chance they’re lying. They’re Americans and we all know how vigilant they are about their people. We don’t need the full force of the military on top of us. Hold them for now, but if I find out they’re lying, they’re destined for a shallow grave.”
“Do you think they’re here to find the fallen American soldier?”
“Maybe. This quake diminished our ability to track the man, but he remains our main priority. We must find Corporal Jason Palmer and this American military will be our leverage. He is the only one who knows where our cash is. Our boss isn’t going to be happy if we don’t find it. Maybe he’ll make an example out of his hunters instead.”
“Understood.”
There was nothing Dodger could do in broad daylight. He’d have to wait until nightfall. Well-hidden and with no apparent sentries, he decided to take a well-needed battle nap. He was woken an hour later when voices broke the silence.
“Mr. Mendoza. I contacted someone I trust in Asunción. The woman photographer is telling the truth about being in the city, and her credentials and those of her bodyguards check out. There’s one problem.”
“What is that?”
“She was supposed have another man with her.”
“There was no third man at the clearing.”
“Agreed. Perhaps he didn’t travel with her?”
“Perhaps. Put an extra guard on them and have your contact dig deeper. Not many people would dare attack a Corta Cartel camp. It would be their death sentence. There would be no place for them to hide.”
“That is true.”
“Report back to me when you have the information.”
So they knew about him, but it looked like Anna’s cover was holding for all of them. The Cartel wolves didn’t know they were up against SEALs. That gave Dodger and the rest of them an advantage. Looking up at the sky, he could only wait until nightfall.
Renata wasn’t sure why she woke up—maybe it was Jugs’s light snoring or the feeling of the empty house without Carolina. Or maybe it was because she hadn’t had quite this specimen of man in her bed…ever.
But whatever it was, it was the kind of wakefulness that was sharp and clear, with no blurred edges, aware of the warmth beside her. The fading sky that preceded dawn was illuminating the room, and Renata turned her head and looked at Max, an awed feeling unfolding in her chest.
Holy smokes, this man was gorgeous. Most men were not built like Max, not even close. He had the kind of muscles that were lived in, essential to his job, not like the guys who worked out to be fit. Max showed the sweat and labor in every line of his body, in the truly impressive curve and thrilling feel of his biceps, in the dark-stubbled angle of his jaw, in the hard, muscular length of his legs, his abdominals thick and ridged. He was beautiful, possibly the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Definitely the most beautiful man she’d ever slept with.
The most amazing man she’d ever been with period. She loved the way he didn’t let her get away with bullshit and was honest about who he was. The way he had looked into her eyes when he was thrusting into her made her hot all over. It told her that he didn’t just want to get off but wanted to watch her experience the pleasure he was giving her. It was so damn sexy and…deep.
He was on his back, one leg drawn up, his breathing deep and even. She closed her eyes at the powerful reaction running over her. He was a wrecking ball in her life, not just professionally, but emotionally as well.
And all because of an ancient helmet and a ferociously serious K9.
She didn’t know when it had happened, but she’d fallen for Max and Jugs completely. But even though she didn’t want to face her decisions, she had to. In fact, now that Max was on the mend, she really should get back to her treasure hunt.
Yet she couldn’t seem to get her mind around anything except watching him sleep, watching him for a long time until watching was just not enough. Her body was sending her messages that had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with the man beside her. Bracing herself on her elbow, she ran her fingertips over his smooth skin, lingering at his rounded biceps, then the oh-so-soft-skin at the center of his arm, then down to the ropey forearm. He had nice hands, sure, big, and warm. He looked so vulnerable in sleep, his palm up and his fingers relaxed.
She settled in between his legs, braced her hand and kissed his collarbone, then trailed her mouth down his chest, kissing each ridge of his abdomen. She moved over to his bruised hip, gently kissing the mottled skin, then trailed her lips to his groin.
He groaned softly, and she looked up to find those hooded blue eyes taking in her going down on him. He radiated a raw sexual power that was mesmerizing, a danger to her on numerous levels, physically, emotionally, and mentally. She wrapped her fingers around the hard, velvet-textured length of him, and he pulsed in her tight grip. She kept her eyes on him as she took his plum-shaped head into her mouth with just a tease of a suck, his skin hot and salty against the stroke of her tongue. She ran her tongue over the top of him again, then closed her mouth and sucked. His hips came off the bed.
He shuddered and tangled his hands in her hair, his hips rocking off the bed. He held her, moving with her as she felt him abandon his control and give himself up to the soft, wet heated movements of her mouth and the firm but gentle stroking of her hand. He spread his legs just a little wider for her, and she slid her hand farther down to massage his balls.
She pushed him, working him over, getting him so hot with pleasure it made her feel good and so hot, she couldn’t help slipping her hand down to her core, strumming and rubbing with a soft hum of pleasure. His chest rose and fell heavily, his expression fierce and hungry as he watched her caress herself and give him head. A soft groan escaped him, and she felt t
he change in him, his erection growing stiffer, pushing deeper.
“Babe,” he said, in a guttural moan. “Renata.” He tried to pull her up so that he could kiss her, but she was taking him all the way and there was nothing he could do about it. He was so not in charge. She let out a soft oh-no-you-don’t laugh and pushed him back onto the bed, and when her mouth slid down the length of him again, there was no way this gorgeous warrior was going to fight her.
His breathing increased until he was panting, his hips moving, and she played him with every touch of her tongue, every stroke of her hand, the next pull of her mouth, and the next until she took him exactly where she’d wanted him to go, straight over the edge. The hot, spiraling sensation of an approaching orgasm made her rock her hips.
“Fuck,” he ground out.
His was body was taut, his cock rock hard, when she came with a shivery moan, sucking him hard and deep. His thighs tensed, his stomach muscles rippled, and she knew he was so close. She raked her fingernails down his stomach, just above his hard erection.
He cried out, thrusting against her mouth one last time, and his groan of surrender was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard.
He pulled free from her mouth and dragged her up into his arms. Holding her close, he slid his hand around the back of her neck and buried his face in her hair. And he crushed her to him, her soft breasts mashed against that hard, thick chest, his breath blowing warm against her neck, and feeling like she never wanted him to let her go.
She sighed and softened her body, relaxing against his. She pulled away from him, hungry for his gaze and his mouth.
His eyes were as piercing as usual, but with a softness that made her heart melt. “Was it good for you?” she breathed. Catching him by the hair and pulling his head to hers, she gave him a kiss that only took the edge off her need.
Laughing against her mouth, his whole body tensing, he got real serious, real quick, rolling her beneath him. She made a soft sound as she slid her arms around his neck, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Grabbing the back of his head, she fought for air, her heart hammering. He changed the angle of her head, then sealed his mouth hungrily against hers.
