With No Remorse

by Cindy Gerard

  The root ball was a good ten feet in circumference; half of it was aboveground, the other half made a scooped-out hollow in the earth. At first Val hadn’t even seen the hole, mostly hidden by rocks and moss and a handful of new growth of trees and shrubs.

  “It’s perfect. Just big enough to conceal the two of us and my pack,” he stated with a triumphant smile.

  Oh, God. It was perfect all right. Perfectly horrifying.

  She watched as he crawled inside to clear out some of the debris. Then he dug a paper-thin silver survival blanket out of his pack and spead it out for them to lie on. He shimmied back out again. “Hold tight. I want to go cover our tracks.”

  She swallowed thickly, hardly aware of him leaving as she stared into the hole.

  Don’t go back there. This isn’t the same. There’s no lock. There’s no force. There are no boogeymen waiting in the dark.

  No, the boogeymen were chasing them in the daylight.

  She wished she was like one of those kick-ass women in her favorite books. The kind who not only held their own with the big, tough alpha males, but often saved the day themselves when faced with danger.

  Her twice-a-year visits to Sierra Leone didn’t count as dangerous, despite the lingering violence still associated with the region. Though the civil war and the atrocities committed by the Revolutionary United Front—RUF—had ended almost a decade ago, the undercurrent of violence still existed. And for the women and children who had survived the brutal rapes and mutilations, their lives remained a constant struggle. Especially the “bush wives,” the young girls and women who had been kidnapped and raped and forced to “marry” the RUF soldiers who had brutalized them.

  Even now, years after the war had ended, those women remained ostracized by their families, by society. While Valentina went to help them, those trips were also healing; they nourished her soul and renewed her spirit. Those trips, and the medical, shelter, food, and school supplies that made the journey with her, were essential. There was no bravery involved. Only necessity.

  So no, kick-ass didn’t seem to be a card in her deck. She was scared spitless. And as she stared at the gaping black hole in the ground, all she could think of was how she could avoid crawling into it.

  If she’d had any breakfast, she would have lost it right then. She wanted to vaporize and be magically transported to another time continuum.

  Don’t think about bugs, or rats or spiders or snakes. It’ll only give you bellyaches.

  Eyes closed, she repeated her mantra—then yelped when a twig snapped behind her.

  She spun around, fists clenched, and sagged in relief when she saw Luke. He was out of breath but looked much better than he had earlier.

  “In you go, Angelface. We don’t have any time to waste.”

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t try to outrun them? We’ve been doing a pretty good job so far.”

  “And we’ve been damn lucky. This is our best option.”

  “Why don’t you go in first?” she suggested, feeling the blood drain from her head.

  “Because I want to make sure I can’t see you once you’re inside. Now scoot.”

  When she hesitated, he cupped her shoulders and ducked down to look in her eyes. “Hey. What’s happening? Are you claustrophobic or something?”

  Or something, she thought, heart hammering.

  Don’t think about bugs, or rats or spiders or snakes. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

  She repeated the mantra in rapid succession and, gathering all of her courage, crawled slowly inside.

  8

  Taking great pains not to brush her shoulder on the earth wall or ceiling, Val maneuvered into the opening on all fours. Inside, she cautiously stretched out on her side on the survival blanket. When she laid her head down on her upraised arm, she realized she was still wearing Luke’s hat.

  Her hand was trembling when she reached up and removed the fedora, then set it on the blanket beyond her head. And then she waited. Eyes closed, her chest tight, her mantra ringing through her mind while her thundering heartbeat tried to drown it out.

  She gasped and jumped involuntarily when the small trees surrounding the hole rustled and a little shower of dirt dusted her shoulder. Eyes wide now, she saw that it was Luke tossing brush over the exposed cavity. Then his pack landed down by her feet, then the rifle, and finally he crawled in, dragging more brush behind him to cover the last of the breach.

  “If they can spot us in here then they’ve got X-ray vision,” he said as he shimmied up until his head was even with hers.

  Light filtered in between the leafy tree and bush branches, casting their hiding place in shadows yet still allowing them to see out. The floor of their cave was lumpy and hard beneath the thin blanket, and every bit as damp as she’d thought it would be. Every bit as terrifying.

  “Not bad,” Luke said settling himself in. “Comfy, even.”

  Not even a little bit, she thought, fighting a chest-tightening knot of claustrophobia.

  You’re not locked in, she reminded herself, concentrating on deep, even breaths. And there’s plenty of room. At least a foot on either side of them, another two feet above their heads, even more at their feet. They could lie stacked on top of each other if they had to and still have plenty of clearance. That was good. That was all good.

  Still, she couldn’t stop the shivers wracking her body.

  “Damn, babe,” he whispered with concern, and maneuvered his arm around her shoulders, pulling her snug against him. “Body heat,” he explained when she stiffened. “We can use it to warm each other up.”

  After a few seconds of some very guarded breaths while she got used to the fit of their thighs and hips and of her left breast pressing against his chest, she realized that he was right. His big, tough body generated megawatts of heat.

  And cocooned in the strength of his arms, she gradually stopped thinking about bugs and rats and snakes.

  She thought instead about the intimacy of their positions. About how, if she tipped her head just an inch, maybe two, the tip of her nose would brush the stubble on his jaw. About how, if she moved her hand just the tiniest bit, it would rest on his muscled chest. If she bent her knee, just so . . .

  “Um.” His voice startled her out of her thoughts as he turned his head and whispered against her cheek. “I never in my life expected to hear this coming out of my mouth, but . . . is that a flashlight in your pocket, or are you just very glad to see me?”

  She jerked back so she could look at him.

  “What?”

  His eyes were sparkling with amusement, and he was grinning.

  Then it dawned on her, and damn if she didn’t have to muffle a laugh. Very carefully, she reached between their hips, fished into her jeans pocket, and pulled out the source of his confusion. “Potato,” she said quietly, holding it up for him to see.

  “Oh.” Long pause. “Right.” Longer pause, then, “Huh?”

  She let out a soft puff of laughter because . . . oh, who knew why? Because she was warm for the first time in hours? Because if she didn’t laugh she might cry? Because of the puzzled expression on his face?

  “I picked it up in the field when I was waiting for you to bring back the mules. They were lying all over the ground. And I thought that if we got hungry, maybe we could eat it.”

  Amused bafflement transitioned to a soft smile. “I just luvs me a resourceful woman.”

  Instead of buoying her spirits, his comment leveled her again. She set the potato above her head by his hat.

  “At least I’m good for something.”

  He tucked his chin so he could see her face better. “What are you talking about?”

  “About me being a wimp,” she said, matching his whisper. “And don’t start with the Superwoman bull again. The closest I’ve ever come to filling her boots was for a costume party years ago. I suck at this.”

  To add to her self-disgust, now she also felt stupid for unloading wit
h that little outburst.

  “Jesus.” He sounded genuinely perplexed. “Where did that come from? You’ve been a brick. We wouldn’t have made it this far if you hadn’t picked me up out of the dirt and hauled me out of the line of fire.”

  “That had nothing to do with being brave or tough. That was about being scared. Like I’ve been scared since this whole thing started.”

  With the same gentleness he’d shown her back in the canyon he folded her closer. “You think I’m not scared?”

  “No,” she said, feeling miserable. “I do not think you’re scared.”

  “Well, think again, Angelface.”

  The hollow ache in his voice made her wonder if he actually meant it. She quickly dismissed the notion. This man had nerves of steel. She doubted he was afraid of anything.

  She turned her head away, but he curled a finger beneath her chin and tipped her face back up to his.

  “Listen to me.” Even in a whisper, his tone demanded her attention. “It’s how you react to fear that says who you are. And it’s keeping your head that tells me what you’re made of. You haven’t bitched once about that bum knee, and I know it’s giving you fits. You climbed on that mule’s back and stuck like a burr even though you were terrified. And don’t think I couldn’t see how afraid you were of crawling into this hole.”

  His eyes were clear and gentle as they searched hers.

  “I know what happened to you.” When her breath caught, he repeated, “I know what happened when you were a little girl. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You are claustrophobic.”

  She lowered her gaze. Of course he knew. The whole world knew about the abduction. When you were a celebrity, your life was an open book—even your life before you became famous. The tabloids had been merciless when they’d uncovered the story of her abduction by her mother’s ex-boyfriend. Mario had thought he could win her mother back by staging a kidnapping, then playing hero by rescuing her child from the “kidnappers.”

  He’d thrown her in that dark cellar for two days with nothing but a jug of water and a jar of peanut butter, before he’d come clean and told the police where she was hidden. When they’d found her she was traumatized, covered in bug bites, her fingers clenched around a thick piece of wire she’d dug out of the dirt with her bare hands and used to keep the rats at bay.

  “Your reactions are honest,” Luke murmured, his gentleness drawing her away from the horrifying memory. “Your fear is real, and with damn good reason. But when it counts, you cowboy up. You do what you need to do. You tough out the pain; you climbed up on that mule. And even though you were terrified, you crawled in here. That’s kick-ass in my book, Angelface. And trust me, I know kick-ass when I see it.”

  He was being kind. Trying to make her feel better about herself.

  She managed to smile. “So where does peeing my pants fall on the reaction scale? Because I’m about to do that soon if my heart doesn’t quit beating so hard.”

  “Princess, that’s a biological function, not a character trait. And for the record, I’m in awe. You’ve got the strongest bladder of any woman I’ve ever met.”

  “No, I don’t,” she said on a soft laugh. “When you were getting the mules, I—”

  “Did more than pick up potatoes?” he concluded with a grin.

  Before she could thank him for being so kind, his head jerked toward the opening of the cave. He didn’t have to tell her to be quiet. She knew he’d heard something. And he didn’t have to signal for her silence for her to stop their whispered conversation and hold perfectly still.

  They were no longer alone. The predators had arrived.

  Heart slamming, Val held her breath, then realized she was getting light-headed and made herself let it out, slow and steady. Beside her, Luke’s body tensed into one long, pulsing, tightly wound muscle as he slowly pulled the handgun out of his waistband.

  Several tense seconds passed as they lay there. Outside in the forest she could hear twigs breaking beneath the gunmen’s feet, the occasional soft curse, and the skitter of loose earth as one of the men slid on the steep terrain.

  They were close. Very close. So close, she swore she heard one of them breathing as they passed within a few feet of their hiding place.

  Seconds turned to a minute, then several minutes. The strong beat of Luke’s heart hammered in the ear she’d pressed against his chest. She could feel the effort he made to keep his breaths even. Sensed the tight coil of strength in his hard, toned muscles that told her that, regardless of the beating he’d taken from his fall off the mule, he was ready to strike if he had to.

  She made herself concentrate on steady, even breaths. Willed her heartbeat to settle and her mind to stay focused. Silence counted more than anything and stillness came a very close second. So even though her muscles started cramping from the effort to remain motionless, she didn’t let herself move. Only breathe. Only think about surviving this.

  And in the midst of it all, while men who wanted to kill her were out there stalking them, she prayed that a spider didn’t drop on her face.

  Talk about skewed priorities.

  Luke finally turned his head toward hers. “I think they’ve moved on,” he whispered against her ear.

  “Thank God.” She wanted out of here.

  “But let’s play it safe a little while longer, okay? Make sure they don’t get wise and double back.”

  Oh, God. They were going to lie here and hold their positions. And suddenly she didn’t feel so safe . . . but for a totally different reason.

  For the past several minutes, Val had managed to avoid thinking about how physically close they were. Now that the immediate threat was over, she was acutely aware that they were pressed together from ankle to head, heartbeat to heartbeat.

  It took only but a few of those heartbeats for acute awareness to become hyper-awareness that, somewhere along the way, their breathing had fallen into the same rhythm. And that rhythm—in, out, deep, slow—suddenly riveted her.

  In. Out. Deep. Slow.

  Like good sex.

  A shocking arrow of heat shot straight from the tips of her breasts to her belly.

  Whoa. She’d slipped into that thought far too easily. It was just the danger, she told herself. And the threat of spiders. And . . . yeah, the intimacy of their positions, so close it was hard to tell which heartbeat was whose. So close their shared body heat had ceased to be a necessity and become the catalyst for this singular kind of quickening of her pulse.

  In. Out. Deep. Slow.

  She flashed on a visual of them naked, making love, and another rocket of heat burned through her body. This needed to stop. But, since the divorce, her ego had shrunk to the size of a pinhead. Which was probably why she was thinking like one.

  It didn’t help that his breath fluttered hot against her cheek. That his calloused hand lay at the curve of her hip.

  She swallowed hard; suppressed another eddy of sexual heat when his hand moved slightly on her hip. When his breath feathered warm and steady across her brow.

  And even though she knew she was playing a risky game, she nestled closer against him. God, it had been so long since she’d felt even a flutter of sexual response to a man. How could she fight the force of it, or deny the delicious rush?

  It would be so easy to tip her face to his and kiss him. To morph this moment into something even more reckless and wild, and far, far away from fear.

  And fear, she realized with sudden clarity, was most likely the true catalyst for her reactions, the reason she was so close to the edge.

  Okay. Deep breath. Regroup.

  Luke Colter was a very attractive man. It was easy to want to encourage him to kiss her . . . just to give her something to think about other than Marcus’s betrayal and dark holes and gunmen chasing her.

  And she might have actually kissed him if she’d sensed anything sexual on his part. But she wasn’t picking up any signals—not even a flutter. His hands didn’t roam; his hold was merely prote
ctive. He was offering a shoulder. Safety. Kind words.

  She sighed deeply, both disappointed and relieved. It was a good thing one of them was sane.

  9

  Luke was going insane.

  Break-out-the-anti-psychotic-drugs, dust-off-the-lobotomy-kits, and lace-up-the-straightjackets insane.

  All this lush, sexy woman pressed against him was more than he could take. He had the erection to prove it. If she moved her leg up the tiniest bit, she was going to find out the hard way—yes, the hard way—just how much trouble he was in.

  But when she stiffened suddenly and turned into his arms, he was reminded of how very vulnerable she was. And how foreign and frightening this experience was to her.

  “You’re doing just fine,” he said softly and pressed his lips to the top of her head, giving her the moment she seemed to need to get hold of herself again.

  Giving himself a moment to get a freakin’ grip.

  But then she turned a little closer . . . just a fraction of an inch. His chin brushed against her hair. She sighed, a soft, female sound that was sexy without any effort, beckoning without any guile. And then, Jesus God, her entire body just seemed to give in his arms. Like all the tension, all the fear simply melted away, and she gave herself over to his safekeeping.

  He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and drew on every ploy in his arsenal to distract himself from thoughts he had no business thinking. Thoughts of how easy it would be to shift this delicate balance of trust to a slow dance of seduction.

  He might have pulled it off—if she hadn’t tipped her head back then, and with a dark, clear-eyed stare, let him know she was both vulnerable and ripe for the picking.

  Well, damn it, he was only so strong. And she was so everything he’d ever wanted.

  His hand trembled when he touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. “You really want to do this?” he whispered, his throat thick with desire as he gave her a chance to stop him.