"Like I have a choice," she managed to say breathlessly.
They kept going, and one part of Travis's mind gave quiet thanks for the terrain. This wasn't the kind of desert that you found out in the middle of the Mojave. The real desert was farther out. This area was more like the landscape that he grew up with back in Texas. Sand, sure, but more rocky. With clumps of bushes and a few sparse but hardy trees. A ring of low-lying hills, which probably passed for mountains around here, surrounded them, and he was hoping to find refuge there.
The darkness was their friend.
They could lose themselves in the night and hopefully, before dawn, they'd be huddled in a cave somewhere and he'd have a chance to think of alternate escape plans. While he ran, making sure the princess was keeping up with him, his mind worked the problem. He had water. And rations. And a radio and weapons. He could do this. They could do this.
It was just going to take some creativity. Adapting and overcoming. Hell, he'd been trained for just this sort of thing. And damned if he wasn't going to pull it off.
"Come on," he urged quietly. "Just keep moving and everything'll work out."
"Like it has so far?" she wondered aloud.
He threw one look at the star-studded sky and silently asked, Why me? And more important, Why her? This would have been a helluva lot easier if he'd just been asked to rescue a reasonable person. But this woman had been trouble from the get-go, and he suspected that it wasn't going to get much better.
They walked for hours, until Lisa was ready to throw dignity to the wind and beg the guy in charge of this little forced march for a rest. But she doubted he would even hear her. Long accustomed to the darkness, she had no trouble seeing him clearly. Tail and rangy, he moved effortlessly across the rocky ground. He never seemed to get tired. He never let go of her hand, and his gaze continually scanned their surroundings, constantly on alert. His profile was sharp, dangerous looking, without an ounce of softness in it. The camouflage paint only made him look scarier—more remote. His jaw was hard and square and his nose had obviously been broken at least once… Her sympathies were entirely with the breaker not the breakee. She hadn't had a good look at his eyes yet, but she had the distinct feeling they'd be all business, no matter the color.
Well, if she had to be stranded in the middle of nothing, she told herself, it was better to be with a man so clearly equipped to handle it. A stray notion shot through her mind and she laughed shortly at the thought of her last fiancé trying to survive out here. James hadn't been able to hail a cab in Manhattan successfully.
"Was that a laugh?" he asked, slowing his steps.
Grateful, Lisa slowed down, too, and instantly felt her calf muscles cramp. She winced, nodded and admitted, "Yes, I laughed. Maybe I'm hysterical."
"Swell."
She looked up at him. Darn him, anyway, he wasn't even winded. "I'm kidding," she said, then added, "I think."
Releasing her hand, he gave her a long, thoughtful look, swung his pack to the ground and said, "Sit for a few minutes. Take a breather."
"Oh, thank heaven," she muttered, and dropped like a stone. Then she had to shift slightly to inch off the stone she'd landed on. Perfect. Well, why shouldn't her behind ache as much as every other spot on her body?
"Here," he said, handing her a beige, flask-shaped canteen. "Have a drink. Not much, though. I've only got two and they've got to last us."
Lisa nodded, too tired to argue, which was saying something, she supposed. Unscrewing the cap, she lifted the canteen and took one big mouthful of warm, wet, wonderful water. Then she swallowed, letting the liquid slide down her throat like a blessing, before handing the canteen back. She hadn't even realized just how thirsty she was. And right now, the metallic-flavored water tasted better than the finest bottle of wine.
Now that they'd stopped running, the cold night air had caught up with her. She shivered and clapped her hands to her upper arms, rubbing them up and down, trying to create some warmth. Funny how running and being terrified will keep you all toasty.
"Cold?"
She nodded.
He shrugged the small pack off his back and swung it to the ground. Then, setting his gun to one side, he quickly undid the buttons on his sand-colored uniform shirt and pulled it off, revealing a Marine-green T-shirt that looked as though it had been molded to his brawny chest
"You don't have to do that," she said, both grateful and embarrassed to be taking the shirt off his back.
"Just put it on, princess."
Well, so much for gratitude. She snatched the shirt out of his hands and shoved her arms into the long sleeves. The cuffs hung well past her wrists, to flop over the edge of her fingertips. But it was warm—the fabric still held a touch of his body heat along with his scent.
He stood up again, grabbed his rifle and gave another quick look around.
She looked down to see the mammoth shirt hanging to nearly the hem of her dress. Oh, if her friends could see her now. Lisa Chambers, girl fashion plate, dressed as a miniature soldier. But she was warm and that was saying a lot.
"I, uh…" Gratitude came hard, considering that he wasn't one of her favorite people at the moment.
"Forget it." He cut her off, clearly not interested in thanks. "Now, you stay put," he said. "I'll be right back."
"What?" Panic reared up inside her, and she shot a wild look around her at the surrounding darkness. Anything or anyone could be hiding out there. "You're leaving me here? Alone?"
He shot her a grin. "Gonna miss me?"
Her stomach flip-flopped. Amazing what an effect that smile could have on an exhausted, thirsty, hungry, obviously delusional woman.
"Don't worry about it," he said, before she could come up with a witty reply. "I'm just goin' back to make sure I've covered our tracks well enough."
"I didn't realize you had been covering our tracks," she said, looking back over her shoulder as if she could actually see into the darkness and the trail he'd been working to erase.
"That's my job," he said, already moving off into the shadows.
"Who are you, anyway?" she demanded. "Daniel Boone?"
He glanced back at her and gave her another one of those grins. "Nah, the name's Travis Hawks, ma'am. But I appreciate the compliment."
"Well, my name's Lisa Chambers," she retorted as he disappeared into the darkness. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she added, "It's not 'ma'am.'"
What felt like hours but what was probably only a few minutes, passed, and she heard him approaching. At least, she hoped it was Travis Hawks.
It was.
She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as he moved to her side. Then she noted he wasn't even breathing heavily.
Tipping her head back, she looked up at him. "Aren't you even tired?" she asked, disgusted that he showed no signs of the fatigue swamping her.
He spared her a quick glance, then lifted his gaze back to the wild, arid landscape. "I'll be tired when we get where we're goin'."
"Well," she said, "I had no idea I was in the company of a superhero." Muffling a groan, Lisa pulled her right foot onto her left knee and massaged the tight knot in her calf. "And where is 'where we're goin',' exactly?" she asked, mocking his drawl.
"There," he said, ignoring her gibe as he pointed to a low range of mountains.
She squinted into the distance and felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. "You're kidding," she said, "right?"
"No, ma'am."
"Lisa," she reminded him, "not 'ma'am.' And that's probably another five miles," she protested, already thinking about the extra aches and pains headed her way.
He reached into the inside pocket of his shirt and pulled out a fabric-covered map. He studied it for a few minutes, then shifted his gaze back to her. "More like three."
"Well, heck," she said, sarcasm dripping from her words. "That's different, then. What are we waiting for?"
Folding the map and tucking it away again, he dropped to one knee besid
e her and reached for her leg.
"Hey!" She stiffened and tried to pull away, but let's face it, she was so tired a snail could have overtaken her. Let alone Mr. I'll-Get-Tired-Later.
"Relax, princess," he said, his fingers kneading the tight flesh. "I'm just tryin' to help."
She muffled a yelp and told herself to stop him. She shouldn't be letting him do this. She hated him. She hated what he was forcing her to do. Heck, she'd walked more today than she usually did in a month of treadmill exercising. And it was all his fault. If he hadn't waved off that helicopter, she'd be winging her way toward an American Embassy somewhere, already anticipating a hot bath and a good meal and some fresh clothes. So, yeah. She hated him and she should be telling him all this while at the same time making him stop massaging her legs. And yet … it felt so good. Pain shimmered inside her, blossomed, then disappeared under the wash of warmth drawn from his fingertips.
He moved from one calf to the other, his strong fingers easing away the tightness in her muscles until she almost wanted to weep with the pleasure of it all. Okay, she thought. Maybe he's not so bad. Maybe he's doing the best he can. Maybe he's sorry that he's working her so hard. Maybe…
"Okay, that's it," he announced. "Let's get movin'." He dropped her leg as if it were a seashell; picked up, examined, then discarded as useless.
And just like that she hated him again.
"That's your idea of a 'rest'?" she asked. "Three whole minutes?"
Standing up, he held one hand out to her and pulled her to her feet. "Sun'll be up in a few hours," he said sagely, his gaze drifting across the far horizon. "I want to be tucked away nice and quiet before that happens."
She shifted her gaze to the same horizon and realized that the sky did look just a bit brighter. They'd been walking all night. No wonder she was tired, for pity's sake.
"And you think I'm going to be able to walk three more miles in under three hours?" If the way she was feeling at the moment was any indication, she'd be lying in a crumpled heap inside of a half hour. Her own fallen image rose up in her brain, and Lisa imagined the headlines—Billionaire's Daughter Found Dead in Desert. And, of course, there'd be pictures. Of her mummified body wearing her once fashionable, now pitiful, designer dress.
Now there's an epitaph.
"You'll make it," he said, his words shattering the thoughts in her mind with the steely ring of determination in his tone.
She looked up at him. Funny, she hadn't noticed until just this minute how tall he was. At least six-three. At five-nine, Lisa was no munchkin, but he made her feel tiny in comparison. Maybe she could make it. With his help. He didn't seem the kind of man to give up easily. If he had, they would have been captured hours ago.
"Okay, general," she said, bravely swallowing the knot of fear lodged in her throat. "You lead, I'll follow."
"Ooh-rah," he said, and gave her a smile that nearly knocked her over.
"Ya-hoo," she answered, hoping she'd see that smile again really soon.
* * *
Travis wouldn't have admitted it under torture, but he was beat, down to the ground. The cold was keeping him awake for now, but if he didn't get some sleep soon, neither one of them was going to get out of here. Which was why he nearly shouted in joy when he spotted the cave.
If he hadn't been looking specifically for just this, he never would have noticed it. A slight overhang of rock jutted out from the side of the mountain, looking like nothing more than an extra-wide crevice. Yet, on closer inspection, he found a narrow but deep cave that would be a perfect place to hide.
Every bone in his body cried out for rest, but before he could, he had to make sure the place was safe. Leaving the princess at the mouth of the cave, he took his rifle and snatched a chem light out of his equipment belt. Cracking the hard plastic case, he then shook it until the crystals inside glowed a soft green. An ordinary flashlight or a flare would be too bright in this all-encompassing blackness. Too easy to spot from a distance. This thing would give off enough light to see by and still be bard to spot by their enemies. Carefully he inspected the shelter. The eerie green light glowed and cast soft, indistinct shadows on the rock walls. His right hand gripping the rifle, he held the light up high in his left as he squinted into the darkness.
"What do you see?"
He winced as her voice seemed to echo in the stony enclosure, and he hoped to hell the place was as empty as it seemed.
"Quiet." His voice was hardly more than a raspy hush of sound. And still it traveled back to her with no problem.
"And what does quiet look like?" she muttered.
Travis grinned reluctantly and shook his head. This damn woman was as stubborn as he was. A moment later, though, the smile on his face faded as he concentrated on the task at hand. The walls were solid, no holes where critters could crawl or slither through from somewhere else. There was no sign of human habitation in here, but there was always the threat of snakes. Growing up in Texas had given him a healthy respect for the reptiles, and he sure as hell didn't want any surprises while they slept.
Damn, his eyes felt heavy. Gritty. As though he hadn't slept in a year. He blinked, shook his head again and focused. As he did, a slight movement caught the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to follow the snake's movement. Just one, it was moving fast across the sandy ground.
"Damn it," he whispered, knowing he couldn't risk a gunshot to kill it. He'd been prepared to fire on a hostile human, but he'd rather not risk a rifle shot being heard for miles for the sake of killing a snake. Gritting his teeth, Travis set his rifle down, grabbed his knife and killed it, neatly slicing its head from its body.
Then he stood and gave a last look around. Everything else was secure. If the snake had had friends, they were long gone. The cave wasn't much, but it looked damn good to him at the moment. They were safe—for now. They could get some rest and hide until he figured out the best route to get out of this country.
"What's going on back there?" she called, and he heard the fear in her voice.
That woman could drive a saint right out of heaven, he thought. But then, a part of him couldn't really blame her for being scared. She'd already been through more than most folks would face in a lifetime, and to give her her due, she hadn't folded. And Travis admired grit in a person, male or female.
Of course, that didn't mean he didn't wish she was anywhere but there. But wishes wouldn't do a damn bit of good. They were stuck together. And the fact that she was too blasted good-looking for comfort shouldn't come into it. She was his responsibility—nothing else. He'd best remember that. "It's okay," he said. "You can come in now."
"Good," she said, and her voice told him how quickly she was making her way down the length of the cave. "I was getting worried back there by myself. You know you could have left me one of your little Halloween pumpkin light thingies."
"It's a chem light. Not the kind used in pumpkins."
"Whatever," she said, and he watched her walk into the circle of soft-green light. "The point is, it's really dark in here and I—"
Her voice broke off as her gaze fastened on the dead snake. She took several deep breaths, slapped one hand to her chest and said, "Oh, God."
"It's dead."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?" Eyes wide, she backed up and looked around frantically as if expecting to see a pack of snakes sneaking up on her flank.
He bent down, picked up the carcass and held it up admiringly. At least a three-footer. "You'll think better of it once it's cooked."
"Cooked?"
Travis could have sworn he heard her gag. "Waste not, want not," he told her. "Look before you leap," she countered. "He who hesitates is lost," he said, figuring this could go on awhile.
"He who eats snake will get sick," she told him.
"That's not an old saying."
"It's one of my favorites," she said. "As of right now."
Travis laughed shortly and set his pack down, then laid the snake alongside it. Jammin
g the end of the light into the sand at his feet, he said, "Have a seat. I'm going out to gather some brush. We can make a small fire."
"You're leaving me here?" she asked, lifting one hand to point at the snake. "With that?"
"Trust me," he said tightly, "you're more dangerous than he is."
She swung her hair back from her eyes, and in the green glow those blue eyes gleamed like sapphires. Her face pale, her features drawn with fatigue and fear, she was still pretty enough to take a man's breath away.
And he realized he'd been right.
She was dangerous.
* * *
Chapter 3
«^»
An hour later they were crouched beside a fire so tiny it hardly qualified as flames. But still, the hiss and snap of the burning brush was … comforting, somehow. Except of course, for the snake meat sizzling on a stick.
Lisa cringed just a little and shifted her gaze from the fire to the man opposite her. She watched as he used a rag from his pack to wipe the camouflage paint off his face. With steady, long strokes, he slowly revealed more of his features. Jet-black eyebrows. And his eyes. Darned if they didn't look like melted chocolate—rich and dark—and they had almost precisely the same effect on her. A twinge of hunger, mixed with expectation. In the weird green light, his features looked sharp. Resolute. His nose had character, she decided, and combined with that strong, square jaw, he probably could have made a fortune as a model. Instead, he made his living by dragging women across dark deserts while crazy people shot at them.
"We'll stay here until dark," Travis was saying. "Then I figure we'll head for El Bahar. It's not far and the king there is friendly to the U.S."
"Uh-huh," she said, and though she heard the snap in her tone, she couldn't seem to stop it. "And how far away is this place?"
He pulled out his map, checked it for what had to be the tenth time in the past hour, then glanced at her briefly. "Not far."
"How far?"
"A day or so," he said, deliberately ignoring the sarcasm in her voice. "But once we're in their territory, you'll be safe."
THE MARINE & THE DEBUTANTE Page 2
