She turned, eyeing him as he retreated to the steps. “Hold on. Let me finish. From what I understand, the cenotes they used for sacrifices were ones victims couldn’t escape.”
“Not ones with stairs. Point taken. No skeletons.”
Her gaze browsed him up and down. An odd light gleamed in her blue eyes. “A skinny dip, huh? Are you planning to wash my back?”
“I’m up for that. Any body part you like.” Hell, he was up for more than that. “But I should stand guard. I’ll be at the top where I can see anything or anybody approaching.”
Her face fell for just a second before the necessity of caution sank in. A teasing little smile hovered on her lips. “Then I don’t want you to forget what you’re guarding.”
She reached for the hem of her camisole. Slipped it up and off over her head.
Her bold move knocked the wind from his lungs. The upturned rose-pink nipples of her rounded breasts made his mouth water. Heat shot through him, lighting a fuse into flames. Before his brain cells could coordinate his feet to move, she’d shimmied out of the rest of her clothes and splashed into the pool with the soap.
***
Sitting on the lip of the pool, Kate finished soaping up and glided into the water. She turned her face up to the sunlight streaming down. It illuminated rough walls bedecked with ferns and other small plants growing in the layered limestone. The deeper water was dark and impenetrable, but here in the shallows she could see down to the rough rock. The water, up to her breasts, felt merely tepid from the warm rain. She shivered anyway, but from desire put on hold.
She told herself not to be disappointed Max stood watch at the top. Instead of her own hands, she longed for his big, rough ones to smooth suds over her breasts and belly. And she longed to return the favor, to run her fingers over his hard, muscled body and—
Easy, Katherine. She ducked down to rinse off.
Ironic that the adventurer was being the responsible, safe one and she the reckless one. Knowing the hazards and minimizing the risks had kept Max alive in dangerous places all over the world. She minimized risks by avoiding life. Safe job. Safe men. Safe bubble of blah.
Look at me, staying in the shallows. After a shampoo, the deep end. She was already in the deep end in more ways than one. The risk was worth it to feel this alive. She’d felt more alive these past two weeks than she’d ever felt. No small thanks to Max.
A splash of water cooled her hot face. She loved her job but shouldn’t there be more to life? When she returned to D.C., she would make changes. What, she didn’t know, but she felt like a prisoner given a reprieve.
She poured more soap into her palms and scrubbed away the sweat, grime, and insect repellant. After a second shampoo, she lay back for the last rinse. Then she floated, eyes closed, enjoying the peace.
Something clamped onto her ankle.
Chapter Twenty
Kate went under, flailing her arms. Images of a scaly cave monster trying to pull her down to its watery lair flashed in her head. Before she could get her bearings, she was yanked sputtering and coughing to the surface.
“Relax, Kate.”
Strong arms supported her. He stood in the shallow pool with her. No cave monster, only Max.
Fury heated her cheeks. She smacked his shoulder. “You scared the bejesus out of me. What the hell were you doing?”
“You were floating away. Falling asleep that way could be dangerous.”
He was protecting her. Her pulse slowed and her ire evaporated faster than a puddle under the tropical sun. She finger-combed her wet hair from her face. “You’re probably right. Sorry I yelled at you.”
“No problem.”
Her tight nipples rasped against his chest hairs. His soapy chest hairs. She felt the heat and power of his rampant sex against her stomach. Her pulse kicked up its heels again. “Why aren’t you standing guard?”
“All quiet up there. I made a booby trap of sticks and rocks. An animal heading down the stairs will make a hell of a racket. Plenty of time to get to my guns. Thought I’d join you... for a bath. Seems you’ve already washed your back.”
The desire in his dark-chocolate eyes stopped her breath. His masculine scent mingled with soap encompassed her. “But you haven’t.”
His black hair was streaked with suds, and she imagined an older Max, gray haired, distinguished. Stowing away a fantasy she’d never see in the flesh, she ran her fingers through his unruly cowlick. She smoothed it back, stroked the chin cleft hazed from two days of beard growth, and trailed her fingers down his strong neck and chest to his flat belly.
Eyes glazed from her sensual ministrations, he blinked. “Haven’t what?”
“Washed your back. Turn around.”
He obeyed without a word, turning that broad expanse toward her.
Kate poured more soap onto her hands and lathered his shoulders. His jaw clenched at her touch but otherwise he stood still. “Worried?”
“Just be careful with the goods, darlin’.”
When her hands slid between the powerful back muscles down the deep cleft of his spine, he sucked in a breath. Her fingers traced the puckered scars but he didn’t flinch. The water covered the rest but she couldn’t help sampling the resilience of his firm buttocks.
“That’s it. I’m done.” His voice sounded hoarse and strained. He swam away in two powerful strokes and rinsed off.
Good. She affected his sanity as much as he did hers.
Shaking the water from his shaggy head like a spaniel, he returned to the shallow water. “I came down to the pool for more than washing, Kate. Unless you have second thoughts.”
The predatory hunger in his gaze locked her in place. “Not a one.”
Stepping into his arms, she rose up on tiptoe and licked the water droplets from his neck. As his heat seeped into her, she pressed her lips to his. He uttered a deep sound halfway between a groan and a growl and kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and dissolving her bones. He tasted hot and salty and male.
He moved away and tipped up her chin, breathing as if he’d run ten miles. “Kate, a reminder—this is just sex.”
He was so wrong for her, but he was gentle and generous and brave. He triggered a throbbing excitement deep inside her and a burn that answered his powerful heat.
“Of course, but I’m not settling for ‘just sex.’ “
“Throwing down the gauntlet?”
“You up to the challenge?”
His lips curved wickedly. “I’m up all right. Let me show you.” He slid his big hands down her back to lift her up and wedge her against his erection, huge and engorged with the same need that engulfed her. This seething volcano of a man had more restraint than she. And he was already prepared to protect her.
She looped her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist as she met his mouth. His hands journeyed over her body, stroking and caressing, dribbling water over her breasts and capturing her pebbled nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Delicious torture she wanted to go on forever.
Her senses were inundated with him—the clean scent of his skin, the rasp of his beard, the murmurs of pleasure rumbling deep in his throat. His fingers brushed the sensitive spot between her thighs and she went liquid with want.
Sunlight dappled them from above and ripples circled out from their bodies. Something fell into the pool with a soft ping.
Startled by the small sound, Max looked around, straining for his usual iron control. Nothing. Only a stone or a twig from an overhanging tree.
He sucked in a heated breath, seeking her with his fingers. She was ready for him. He forced himself to return his attention to her breasts. Their soft weight in his palms electrified him. No respite, only more intense heat, like fire had ignited his senses, nearly overwhelming him with the urgency to sink into her silky body. He was harder than the rock around them. Every pulse point in his body rioted. But damn, he’d bring her to the same maddening desperation first. He wanted this time to be better
than before. He wanted her to cry out his name.
She was responsive to his every touch, clinging to him like fire. Her breathy moans, the fragrance of her bright hair, the way she writhed against him made the blood thunder in his head.
“Max, stop, stop.”
Her words penetrated his passion-fogged brain. Stop? Now? He dragged in air, fought for control. “I’ll stop, but dammit, Kate, why choose the worst possible moment for your second thoughts? I could be permanently dam—”
Her hand covered his mouth. “Listen.”
Only then did he catch the fear coloring her voice. Lowering her until she could stand, he heard what she did.
Noises above. Male voices. Laughter and hoots.
Adrenaline spiked inside him, extinguishing desire. Fuck and damn, he should be shot, for letting his libido overpower his good sense. He should’ve been protecting her, not making love to her. “Damn!”
“Is it the soldiers?” Eyes wide with fear, she stood with arms crossed and hands covering her breasts.
He’d rather not hazard a guess. “Get dressed. Gather everything. Stay back against the wall, out of sight under the ledge.”
Willing away the remnants of arousal and tunneling his focus on the problem at hand, he bounded from the pool. Pulled on his pants without drying off. His options were few. They were outnumbered, probably outgunned. After stepping into his boots, he collected his guns and crept up the stone stairway.
***
Quaking head to toe, Kate dressed and bundled the rest of Max’s clothing and canteen with the statue, soap, and towels in her mesh bag. Flattened against the stone wall, she strained to hear. Only the same conversational tones as before. Good. They hadn’t discovered Max.
What were they doing? Were they searching for them? Or Kizin? Questions whined in her ears like a mosquito. Maybe they’d just leave with some food. But she doubted it.
Her breath came in short gasps. Hugging herself, she fought tears and dug inside for strength. Max was up there, facing danger, for her. She couldn’t just sit by. She had to see. She had to do something.
Clutching her bags, she tiptoed up the stone steps. At the top, she realized that the voices were fainter. Were the men leaving?
Max appeared at the cavern’s edge, the Glock in his hand. He returned it to the holster. “They’re gone.” His mouth was set in a tight line. He gave her a hand up.
“The soldiers, what did they—” Her gaze veered toward the temple as if her vision could bore through the dense foliage.
“Not soldiers this time. Four bandits. With rifles.”
Bandits. Cold sweat washed over Kate. She followed Max back to the temple. When the trees parted, what she saw drove her to her knees. No tent, no backpacks. Not even the clothes she’d hung out to dry.
The temple foyer stood empty.
Max spewed a bilingual flood of oaths. Dragging her to her feet, he held her in place. A groan tore from his throat and his arms went around her.
Her head throbbed. Tears swam in her eyes, blurring her vision. “How will we get to K’eq Xlapak? I left my phone in my backpack. What if the kidnapper calls again? How careless can I be?”
“Shh, querida. Making sure we were secure was my responsibility. I’m the careless one. Worse than careless. Dumb as dirt.” His voice was tight and harsh as he soothed one palm up and down her back and brushed gentle kisses on her forehead. “The best I can say is you still have the statue.”
She tore away from him. Her tears had ceased, replaced with a hot coal in her chest. She punched a fist at the trees. “I thought we were safe off the trail. You said—”
“I know. I’m sorry. I blew it.” He lifted his hands and then let them fall to his sides. “If I’d thought with my brain instead of my anatomy, I’d have protected you and our belongings. We’ll get it all back. Everything.”
***
Night was falling as Max gathered palm fronds. Orange streaked the sky and purple shadows brought down the curtain. Bird calls and monkey hoots provided an off-key chorus. He wanted the shelter finished and a fire going before full dark.
They’d trudged on through the jungle until dusk. A small tremor shook the ground, but they faced no further dangers reaching this site. They took extra care not to leave a trail in case the bandits or God knew who else searched for them. He left it at that, holding his breath. But she didn’t press him.
He’d rather not admit his fear that once those animales finished celebrating their easy pickings, they might come back for the female who wore those silky panties. Fortunately she was so furious—at him, at them—that she followed his lead without a word.
He cut off another palm frond and headed back to their campsite. An armload had to be enough. He had to stay in sight of Kate through the foliage.
She’d barely spoken since they left the hive-shaped temple, but a glance at the twin lines between her eyes told him she was bouncing back. And she was working. She scraped the ground for their shelter clear with a stick.
He dropped his bundle and hacked at a sapling for the lean-to.
“Did you learn these survival skills in the army?”
“Most of it. Special Forces training covers survival in all kinds of environments.”
She still had a bit of that deer-in-the-headlights look, so he figured she needed distracting. He tied cut saplings with vines and directed her to cover them with the palm fronds, layered from bottom to top so they shed the rain.
As they worked he talked about Special Forces and working for DSF. About survival training in Georgia swamps and in the Southwest desert. About sad-eyed children in the Afghan countryside and bargaining with vendors in the Cairo souk. She made only murmurs of interest at first, but gradually relaxed and asked questions. Didn’t change what he’d done—or not done—but at least she was talking to him.
When the shelter was finished, they gathered deadwood for a fire and chunks of a termite nest for tinder. No matches, so he made a small bow with a stick and a slender vine and used it to twirl another stick in the nest fibers. The effort took awhile but finally sparks bloomed into embers. Then a small fire. “I wish we didn’t need a fire, but without it we’d have no food. I’ll keep the blaze small so we don’t send smoke signals.”
He tugged over the small armadillo he’d killed earlier and withdrew the KA-BAR desert knife from his belt sheath to butcher it. When Kate eyed the carcass like it was a rattler about to strike, he drawled, “You worried about supper? In Texas, possum on the half shell’s a delicacy.”
Eyes narrowed, Kate planted both fists on her hips. “Right. Next I suppose you’ll tell me that thing tastes like chicken.”
He grinned. “Nu-uh, more like pork. But it’ll be a little dry without a marinade. The tail and legs are the edible parts.”
Cooking armadillo was tricky. Overcooking turned the meat hard. Undercooking was dangerous because armadillos can carry leprosy. He kept mum on that last and the fact he’d never actually cooked one of these critters.
Kate averted her eyes as he flipped the armadillo onto its back and probed with his knife. “I’ll gather more wood for the fire.”
“Chicken,” he called to her back.
“No, pork. Remember?”
Good. Her sense of humor had returned.
As she ambled away, the sway of her hips drew his gaze. He pictured her naked, standing in the water, all sweet-smelling and flushed with desire—
As he drove the knife into the armadillo’s leathery underside, he muttered a Mexican obscenity.
***
Kate gathered another stick into her armload. At least the jungle contained plenty of deadfall. She swatted a mosquito from her nose. Stinging and biting insects were devouring her.
A vague memory stirred of a dark-skinned nursemaid somewhere in South America smearing a plant paste on her skin to repel insects. If only she’d paid attention to the plant’s name.
Dad had introduced them to folk remedies and foods, undeterred at Mom’s disdai
n. How many times did she discourage him from teaching Kate practical survival or local lore? What other manipulations had she done? A muscle in Kate’s jaw ached.
When she returned, Max had disposed of the carcass. Slices of the meat—actually resembling pork cutlets—were skewered on a green stick propped over the flames. Hunkered over the fire, he turned the spit from time to time.
She knew him well enough to see past that dispassionate surface, as hard as the graven images of his possible ancestors. She read the pulse jerking in his neck and the set of his jaw. Tight as hers had been a few minutes ago.
He’d already reported to DSF so he couldn’t be worried she’d complain to Thomas. And he’d stood there and let her yell at him. When was the last time she’d heard a man say he was sorry? Never. Feeling guilty? A good bet. Max took pride in his job, and this mission. He was probably being harder on himself than she could ever be. How could she stay angry?
Night inked out the jungle, melding shadows into a solid, impenetrable wall. Not safe for her to linger away from the fire. Smoke was their only weapon against insects. She brushed off another blood-sucker.
She dumped her firewood onto the pile and went to sit cross-legged beside Max. “How did the bandits find us?”
He turned the meat. His lips twisted around his reply. “They must’ve followed the four-lane highway I hacked out. Better than a damn neon sign.”
“It wasn’t that obvious. You had to cut our way through. But what if we’d been in our little temple shelter when the bandits showed up? Then what?”
The sudden clench of his jaw told her he realized what she’d suspected. “My two pistols to their rifles? They’d have killed us.”
“And everything would be gone, Kizin included. So being in the pool saved our lives.”
He shook his head. “I should’ve done more to protect the perimeter. Like—” He faltered, frowning and looking upward as if seeking the answer in the stars.
On Deadly Ground (Devlin Security Force Book 1) Page 19
