by S. M. Butler
“Alejandro tell you that?”
“Yes,” she hissed, “but I met his father. I believe him. He thinks men are only men if they screw a ton of women. He even asked Alejandro why we hadn’t…” She clamped her jaw tight and felt heat rise in her cheeks.
“What did Alejandro tell his old man?”
“That I wanted… that we should wait until…” she tucked her hair behind her ear, and finally blurted, “that I wouldn’t do it until my wedding night.”
His gaze narrowed. “You a virgin?”
“None of your business,” she bit out, and then stuffed her taco in her mouth to prevent any more unwise outbursts. She wasn’t a virgin, but she also wasn’t very experienced. Another reason she’d been okay with a male roommate was that people always thought she was taken. Sometimes, she’d even insinuated they were together, not outright lying, but she’d had enough of boys hitting on her in high school, and one very bad experience, to know that she wasn’t interested in a shallow relationship. Not that she’d wait for a man to put a ring on his finger, but she wanted to be more than a notch on some asshole’s bedpost. And she wanted the man to be experienced, because all she’d known was awkward groping that had made her feel uncomfortable and dirty.
Irritated that she’d given away so much, she raised her head again. “You’ve asked all kinds of questions, it’s only fair you should answer some of mine.”
“Might be fair, but you’ll be disappointed.”
“You’re rude.” She heard chuckles from down the table and realized their entire conversation had been a source of amusement for the men. She gave them a deadly glare that only caused them to laugh harder.
“They’re surprised you had the balls to talk back to me,” he mumbled. “They’re laughing at me.”
Which made her feel better. “Can you tell me when I can go home?”
He shook his head. “Not until we’re done.”
“With what?”
He raised an eyebrow.
So something on his face wasn’t set in stone. Her shoulders slumped. “I’ve probably lost my job by now.”
“You were reported missing. They know something’s wrong. When everything’s over, if you check out, they’ll be told what happened.”
“That I was kidnapped.”
“If that’s what happened.”
Really? She blew out a breath. “Talking to you is the most frustrating experience.”
His eyes narrowed and crinkled at the corners.
Couldn’t be a smile. He didn’t have a funny bone in his tall, hard body. Her gaze swept his chest and arms. And Lord, he was hard everywhere.
“You done?”
She nodded although she’d barely touched her food. She began to pick up her plate.
“Leave it.” Then he stood silently as she rose and indicated that she should precede him out the door. Not because he was being polite, she was sure, but because she might stab him in the back.
“We’ll be staying here,” he said, taking a path that angled off toward a ramshackle hut on stilts.
She halted in the path, her sandals scraping on the rocky ground. “Wait, we?”
His hand gently pushed her forward again. “Yeah, you’re my responsibility. Where you go, I go.”
“Is there a shower inside?”
“Sure. But don’t freak if a roach or scorpion joins you in the tub. Be glad the place is clean.”
He must have thought she was used to places like Guzman’s big house. But she was a foster kid who’d lived in several dumps until she’d finished high school. “My pillow case,” she said, realizing she’d forgotten where she’d left it.
“It’s on the bed in the bedroom.” Then he raised an eyebrow and waved his hand toward the rickety steps.
She entered the house and walked to the partially closed door. The only door other than the entrance. “There’s only one bed.”
“There’s room for us both.”
Narrowing her gaze, she turned her head toward him. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Fine, more room for me.”
She stood staring, wishing she could curse at him the way he deserved, but cursing only embarrassed her. So she went to the bedroom, leaving the door wide open and picked up her pillow case containing her meager wardrobe. She’d find something to bother him. Something to break Jackson Keller’s callous demeanor. And she thought she might have just the right little confection, something she’d grabbed because it was so beautiful she hadn’t been able to resist. And besides, Alejandro owed her. Big time.
Chapter Three
‡
Jackson raked a hand over his face and cussed softly. The woman was driving him crazy. She didn’t have a clue how sexy she was every time she stood up to him. Women tended to simper when they were around him. Not Suri. She lifted her chin and said whatever was on her mind. Something he rather liked.
She was dangerous. But in ways Teague, the interrogator, didn’t consider. Jackson now believed she was exactly what she’d said she was. A schoolteacher who’d been taken advantage of by the slime ball son of Diego Guzman to save his own ass—no matter the danger he cast her into.
A rap sounded on the front door. He pulled it open to find Teague at the top of the steps. Jackson stepped out, game face on. If their intel expert said he ought to go hard on her, his face might meet his fist.
Teague tilted his head toward the hut. “You got her buttoned up?”
“She’s showering.”
“Good. Think she was telling the truth about Guzman’s son? That he’s gay?”
Jackson nodded. “It explains everything. Why she was there. Why she doesn’t know a damn thing.”
“I agree.” Teague’s mouth thinned. “She’s not any use to us. We’re tracking some of Alejandro’s friends’ movements, and we’re trying to hack his phone. The guys we sent to search Suri’s apartment found her phone, and we copied all the contents, including his private number. I’ll let you know when we get a bead on his location.”
Inside, Jackson was relieved the other man agreed she was probably innocent. She’d be able to go home, instead of being turned over to the DEA for another round of questioning. He hadn’t been comfortable watching Teague go after her before, had curled his fists beside his thighs to keep from yanking her from that chair and saying, “Enough!”
He’d keep her safe. Make sure trouble didn’t follow her home.
“Think she’d work with our FACES sketch generator software to get us a better description of Guzman?”
Jackson nodded. “She didn’t seem to realize we had no clue what he looked like.”
Teague snorted. “A dark, urbane man with cold, dead eyes isn’t something we can send out to law enforcement.”
They both smirked.
Teague glanced at the door. “If she’s real, she’s one hot mess.”
Jackson gave him a glare, which set Teague chuckling as he left.
Back inside, Jackson roamed the small living room. The sound of water trickling sparked his imagination. He already knew what she looked like naked from the front, and in his mind, he smoothed soapy hands over her breasts and belly…
He fisted his hands, reminding himself he was on a mission, his first with Charter, and he couldn’t afford to fail. He was pretty sure he could rejoin his old SEAL team if everything went belly up, but he was ready for better pay and guaranteed vacation. He wanted to put down roots, buy a house, find a girl…
His gaze went to the bedroom door. Someone like Suri would be perfect. She was a teacher, so would likely make a great mom. Her quirky way of talking amused him—he doubted he’d ever grow bored. Her face and body made him tighten up all over. Too bad she already thought he was an asshole, and he had to keep it that way or lose his mission focus. Danger still lurked as long as they were on Guzman’s playing field.
The shower stopped. He heard a shuddering hum, like she was shivering. The hot water must have run out. Her nipples were probably contracting, spik
ing…
Jackson’s sudden release of breath billowed his cheeks. He was in for a long night of blue-balls hell.
The shower wasn’t the worst she’d ever stepped inside, but not for a very long time. The white curtain was gray and decorated with mold stains. The floor was painted plywood. The enamel on the sink and toilets was cracked. Didn’t matter. She wasn’t that prissy. She was clean again and ready for revenge.
From the first moment he’d spied her in the bed, he’d been giving her orders in that clipped, hard voice. Didn’t matter the tone was sexy as hell. She had standards for how she expected to be treated, and he’d violated them. Even after he’d been told everything she knew, he hadn’t relented. Hadn’t smiled or even said her name. She was a nuisance; he’d made that abundantly clear.
Well, she was also a woman. One with curves she hadn’t quite figured out how to use to her advantage—because she hadn’t wanted to attract attention from her foster dads, and then because she’d wanted to fit in with the rest of the dowdy schoolteachers. She remembered Alejandro going through her closet, trying to find something he considered sexy. Why? She didn’t know. Maybe it was like playing with a live Barbie doll, something he’d been denied when he was young, no doubt.
She slid the deep rose nightgown over her head and plucked at the lace to settle the snug parts over her breasts and hips. The silvering behind the mirror was damaged, which made seeing a clear image of herself hard, but what woman wouldn’t stop a man’s heart in such a sexy little number.
She glanced at the door, and her heart sped up. Did she really have the nerve to do this? Should she simply put the maxi dress back on? At least the garment covered all her parts. Was she a mouse or a lioness?
Suri turned the knob and let herself into the bedroom.
Jackson had washed in the kitchen sink and sat in his undershorts on his side of the bed. He’d rolled up a blanket and placed it in the middle of the mattress to reassure her they were only sharing a mattress, not sex. But all his concentration was needed to keep his cock from stirring inside the thin cotton.
The soft snick of the doorknob snagged his attention. Suri stepped out.
“What the hell is that?” he blurted, and then cringed inside because he’d shouted.
She crossed her arms over her breasts, a frown drawing her light brows together.
His gut clenched. Did she realize she’d just plumped up her very generous breasts?
“It is a night gown.”
She said it slowly, like he was a very stupid child. He couldn’t help himself, his gaze raked the flesh bared by the scanty, thigh-high garment. Silk shone in the light from the bare bulb above them, emphasizing her deep curves. Her breasts were nearly bare except for lacy cups that covered her nipples and the bottoms of her fleshy globes.
She turned to reach for the dress she’d draped over the side of the sink, and his jaw dropped. The damn thing didn’t have a back. It dipped so low he could see the dimples at the top of her ass.
Other than two rosy circles on her cheeks, she didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact she was nearly nude. She walked to the pillowcase and stored her clothing, then glanced at him again. “You’re sitting on my side of the bed.”
He clamped his jaw shut. She’d already accused him of being rude, so what the hell? “Since I’m the one who needs rest most—still on a mission, you know—I need this side.” He didn’t know why he didn’t simply give her what she asked for. Maybe if she’d said it more politely, or maybe if he wasn’t afraid she’d notice his boner, he’d have given it to her, but he sat, returning her glare.
His gaze dipped again. The tips of her nipples poked against the lacy cups.
“The water was cold,” she said, her voice breathy.
“I can see that.”
She pointed to the other side of the mattress. “I’ll be fine over there.”
“Good.”
Slowly, she walked around the bed.
Unabashed, he craned his neck to follow her progress. When she bent to plump the pillow, her cleavage deepened, and he could see down her belly in the narrow space. He snapped his gaze back to hers and caught a slight smirk before she wiped it off her face.
She’d played him.
Jackson simmered inside. Didn’t she know he was holding on by a thread? That he would likely have to take a cold shower after she fell asleep. He doubted that would be enough to cool him off; he’d probably have to take himself in hand. Would she hear him through the thin, uninsulated walls?
But in the meantime, two could play this game. He rose and walked across the floor to the light switch, turning as he raised a finger to the switch.
Her gasp was deeply satisfying. “Need a nightlight?” he asked, his voice purring.
“Not unless you do,” she said, her tone brittle.
He flicked off the light, strode to the bed, and slipped under the sheet, lying on his back with his hands beneath his head while trying not to think about how closely they lay atop the full-size mattress.
“The air’s very sticky,” she said.
“It’s the swamp-cooler in the window. The thing’s ancient. Be glad it works at all, or we’d be sweltering.”
“I wasn’t complaining.” She shifted on the mattress.
At the movement, he had to dig in his heels to keep from rolling toward her.
“You said I was here for the duration of your mission.”
He liked the sound of her voice in the dark, so close. “Yeah, our plans didn’t include the extraction of hostages. You’ll return on the same plane the team does.”
“Where will we fly to?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
She was silent a moment, and then sighed.
“You had another question?” he said, wishing he had bitten his tongue instead because the sooner they stopped talking, the sooner she would sleep and he could take care of his problem.
“Will you help me get home?”
The question, asked so softly he knew she was upset, had him cussing at himself for being a bastard. “I won’t leave you stranded…Suri.” She’d been upset before because he’d never said her name. He hoped she understood, he was apologizing for that now.
“Thank you.”
Again, a long silence stretched. She shifted again, this time toward him. He knew because he could hear her soft exhalations clearly.
“The nightgown was one Alejandro bought. He had a wardrobe ready for me. Both as a concession for the kidnapping, and to make sure I was presentable to his father.”
Jackson didn’t know how to respond to that. He asked the question that had been burning a hole in his gut. “Was he rough with you when he took you?”
“No, he invited me to dinner then drove straight to a private air strip. When we got there, he explained we were taking a trip to meet his father. I refused, but he pulled me from the car and over his shoulder. We were in the air before I stopped hyperventilating.”
Jackson was torn between fury and amusement. But it didn’t sound like he needed to take care of Alejandro with a stray bullet. “Why do you think he left you behind?”
“Because he knew who was coming, that I’d be safer with you, than with his father.”
“He tell you that?”
“No, but it’s what he would have been thinking. He’s not a bad man.”
No, but he was weak. And he’d been careless with Suri. The thought of what might have happened if anyone else had come through that door and found her so vulnerable sent an icy chill through his veins.
“Do you know how long it’s going to take…your mission, I mean?”
“Not a clue. We’re on a manhunt. We’re not done until Guzman’s in custody.” The stakes were high. The drug lord had ordered the beheadings of a group of young people, one among them the son of a U.S. congressman, despite the fact a ransom had been paid. A lesson would be made of Guzman. “But you’re not to worry. People are already notifying your superintendant. You’ll still have a j
ob.”
“Then I won’t…worry, that is. But how will I pass the time?”
“The rec room has a TV. But no phones. No internet. We can’t risk being traced here. Federales are likely already searching for us.”
“They’re in his pocket?”
She was smart. He added that to the list of things he liked about her. “Yes. You should sleep. You’ve been through a lot.”
“I’m not that fragile,” she whispered.
He wished she hadn’t said that. Again, his imagination shifted into overdrive with images of all the sexy things he could do to her and her not-so-fragile body.
At last, her breaths deepened. He stayed where he was for a few minutes longer, just to be sure he didn’t disturb her, and then rolled out of the bed.
Chapter Four
‡
When Suri awoke, it was to discover she was resting inside the curve of Jackson’s arm, her thigh draped over his, her head on his chest. She didn’t know who’d moved the blanket. Maybe they’d both naturally gravitated together. She hated to think she might have been the one to cross the line demarking their personal space.
Partly because she didn’t want to wake him, and partly because it was a new experience lying inside a man’s embrace, she held her breath and remained perfectly still. She breathed in his scent, which was a sagey musk combined with the remaining odor of the paint he’d worn on his face. His skin was smooth, warm, tanned and cloaked a hard, very muscular frame. Her fingertips tingled, and she very nearly gave into the temptation to run one tip over his hard abs. Instead, she curled her hand into a fist.
Last night when she’d seen him fully for the first time—without the paint, his body nearly nude—she’d felt her knees wobble. He was devastatingly handsome, not in a pretty-boy way. He was too manly, too large, all hard angles and lovely bulges, with short, nearly dark-brown hair and those cloudy gray eyes. Even the stubble on his chin made her thighs clench.
Suri hoped she didn’t sleep beside him for many more nights or she’d grow accustomed to his physique. Any man she met after this little adventure would pale in comparison.
