Shit. He braced himself for the waterworks to go into high gear. Caroline sucked in a breath and then burst out laughing, wrapping her arms around her waist and bending over double.
Reaper was at her side instantly, grabbing her arms to lift her up straight. Had he pushed her over the edge of sanity somehow? “Caroline, take a deep breath. Just focus on my voice.” He couldn’t afford for her to lose it. Not yet, anyway. He sure as hell didn’t have the strength to carry her out of the jungle. She’d have to walk out on her bare feet.
Reaper frowned down at those cute little toes. How could he not have noticed before now that she didn’t have shoes? With all the unknowns crawling across the ground in this place, it was highly likely she’d cut herself and get a potentially deadly infection. Or step on a poisonous insect. Either scenario put her in danger.
But at the moment that wasn’t his immediate concern. She was still laughing and crying at the same time. She was definitely cracking up. Reaper grasped for something to say, anything that would calm her down. She’d expressed concern about her father, but he sure as hell couldn’t talk about her dad. That would definitely send her over the edge, and this was no time for mourning.
He didn’t know her well enough to know the things she liked and didn’t like. Hell, he hadn’t known she wouldn’t like seeing blood or severed body parts.
“Listen,” he said, “I vow on my life to get you out of here.” It was only the truth. He would give up his life to get her back to his team because that was the only way to ensure their continued existence. “We are not going to die in this jungle. Not today.”
Caroline shrugged free of his grip and wiped her eyes, her chuckles fading into soft hiccups. “Reaper, I know that. I trust you. I really just needed to vent some of my emotions.”
Emotions? Her emotions had exploded like a ticking truckload of C4. “So does that mean you’re better now?”
She grinned, and before he could stop her, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed the side of her face against the hollow in his chest. He froze in shock, his arms held out straight a few inches from his sides.
Caroline sighed, reached for his hands and placed them around her shoulders. “It’s called a hug. I’m not going to bite you.”
A glow of pleasure spiked through his system. She fit against him perfectly, the soft swell of her breasts pressed against his stomach and her tangled mop of blonde hair silky smooth.
Something like contentment fed him and he stood there a moment longer than he should have, enjoying her touch.
When she pulled away, there was a faint line of blood on the edge of her cheek where it had touched the trail streaming down part of his chest. In a trance, Reaper thumbed the stain smudging her skin. For that brief moment he let himself imagine he could let himself be weak. Let himself want her. Maybe this was how hope felt. And then the dull roar of engines gunning in the distance penetrated his senses and that fairytale was dashed instantly.
Reaper dropped his hand and Caroline grabbed it. He decided he would allow her that small weakness for now, anything that would get them moving and get them the hell out of this godforsaken jungle.
“They’re getting closer by the minute. I can hear the engines. We got to pick up the pace.”
Caroline tilted her head to the side, listening. “You’re right.” She swallowed, the muscles in her slim throat working. “They must be really close.”
Reaper froze, studying her worried expression for any hint of dishonesty. There was no way she could detect that sound that far out. It wasn’t possible unless …
Of course, Caroline would be able to detect sound that far out—her blood was the source of Reaper’s enhancements. She had probably been experiencing all of their symptoms since birth. Only she was less sensitized to them because she’d never known any different.
She’d been raised in the privileged life of a senator away from covert operations run by Jack Mankel. She’d been sheltered, coddled and probably given everything she had ever wanted or needed.
She was a princess.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
The thought drove a spike of self-disgust through him. Even if he ever did allow himself to have a relationship, which he wouldn’t, it wouldn’t be with someone high and mighty like her. He’d need a woman who was rough around the edges, someone who could handle his … lifestyle. Not that he’d stay with anyone long enough for them to find out about what he did for a living.
But none of that mattered anyway. He was not interested in Caroline Cotter or her curvy body.
He was only interested in her for what she could do for him—and that was the same thing she’d done for Dr. Winters.
But if she really were enhanced like him, he’d have to tread carefully. The serum had amped up all of his men’s senses—and their exaggerated smell, sight, hearing, and touch had also helped them pick up on emotions in a heightened way. Lust. Fear. Like predators did in the wild.
If she was as adept at picking up on emotions as his teammate Thornton was, all Reaper had to do was let loose a bit of the soul-eating guilt that had been his constant companion since that day in the lab …
Reaper closed his eyes and thought back to that day when the bell had sounded and, like Pavlov’s dogs, his men had gone on a murderous rampage, killing every civilian insight.
Reaper too.
He’d never willingly taken out an innocent in his entire life. But that god-awful day he and the others had been transformed into monsters. Killing machines who weren’t their own masters. He hadn’t snapped again since then, but there were no guarantees he wouldn’t do it again. What if he snapped around Caroline?
Reaper rubbed his temples, the guilt-driven pain pounding through his veins. It was enough to take him to his knees. How could he have ever trusted the government with his men’s lives? How could he have failed everyone so spectacularly?
“Reaper, are you okay?” Caroline’s hesitant voice broke through the nightmares, and he cracked his lids to see her standing there, brows drawn together. She clearly wasn’t as adept at reading emotions as Thornton.
Reaper shoved his memories back, slamming them into the little box he’d made especially for them. Letting that beast out of its cage had served a purpose though—it’d severed any feelings he might’ve started having for Caroline Cotter. He couldn’t let his men be destroyed.
No matter what.
7
They set off at a brisk pace through the jungle, the landscape an endless green sideshow of giant ferns, moss-covered trunks, and creepy crawly things that slithered across the damp floor.
They walked forever, until the tiny rays of sunlight that dared to break through the thick undergrowth and overhead faded as the sun began its downward journey. The thought of being stuck out here at nighttime terrified her. She watched enough National Geographic to know predators could sense blood from miles away, and they would be coming for them. There was no way Reaper could keep up this pace throughout the night, and there was no way she could manage it either. If they didn’t find shelter in the city, they’d find themselves in another death trap, only this one was guaranteed to have sharp claws and fangs.
Her last few attempts at conversation had been cut short. Reaper was closing himself off from her to the point that she almost felt like he was a stranger. She kept telling herself that he was focused on saving her life, but a niggling worry had taken hold of her mind like a leech stuck to her skin, constantly whispering that he really didn’t want to be anywhere near her.
Still, he’d held her hand the whole time, and he’d tried to soothe her through her minor breakdown earlier … Those weren’t the actions of a man who couldn’t stand being around a woman. She needed to accept what he said at face value. He was concentrating on survival, not her feelings.
Caroline stepped on something sharp. She grabbed her foot. “Ow!”
Reaper went to a knee before she could blink and palmed her heel. “Put your han
ds on my shoulders and let me look.”
She did as he commanded, absorbing his gesture as reassurance that he really did care about her well-being. She already knew she’d cut her foot, her fresh blood had mingled with the dried stains Reaper’s blood had left on her hand. Careful not to get too close to his injury, she put one hand on his non-injured shoulder and balanced herself.
“It broke the skin,” he said
“It doesn’t hurt that bad.” It hurt like a bitch, but she sure as hell wouldn’t tell him that.
“We need to disinfect it. There are all kinds of bacteria crawling around out here.”
His last statement caused her to gape at him. Was he serious? “You’re worried about a little bitty scratch on my foot when you have a gaping hole in your chest?”
He frowned up at her, but she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by his foreboding expression. She’d figured him out—he was the grouchy bear with a thorn in his paw. Just like her father.
“I’m not as important as you are. If your blood gets infected, it could kill you or worse.”
“Oh dear, I forgot my shoes back at the evil laboratory.” She was trying to lighten his mood a little, but apparently Reaper didn’t get sarcasm.
“They let you have shoes?”
Caroline rolled her eyes, “Of course not. They didn’t even let me have real clothes.” She gestured to her now filthy and stained hospital gown. They’d treated her like a prisoner, giving her only what they needed to keep her healthy enough to keep supplying their demand.
“You can’t keep on like this. There’s too much risk. Here, take my hand.” Still on one knee, Reaper presented her with his broad, muscular back and held a hand over his shoulder.
“Are you crazy? You can’t carry me!”
“I can and I will.” He emphasized what he wanted her to do with a shake of his hand.
Caroline crossed her arms over her less than generous bosom. There was no way in hell she was going to let him take on her added weight. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was hurting. “No.”
Reaper was on his feet and facing her in the next minute. “This isn’t going to work if you don’t do as I say.”
“This isn’t going to work if you die in the jungle,” she replied, mimicking his tone.
She instantly wished she would’ve kept her mouth shut because Reaper’s obsidian eyes narrowed threateningly. “I am the expert here. I saved your life. I’m the only one who can get us out of this jungle.”
Everything he said was absolutely true. “I’m still not climbing onto your back.”
“I could make you,” he said.
She nodded, “That’s true. But I can also make your life a living hell.”
He snorted, “Too late for that.”
Had he just cracked a joke? She really couldn’t tell. His expression was exactly the same as it had been the moment she first laid eyes on him: about as readable as a blank wall.
“Look, I’m not riding on your back. End of discussion. You’re wasting time arguing over a scratch when we should be running. God knows how much longer it’s gonna take us to get out of this place.” She waved a hand in the air, gesturing to her surroundings. “And you and I both know that no matter how big and tough you are, you won’t survive that gunshot wound stuck out here.”
The man didn’t move. He might as well be a statue for all she could tell. If only she could read his mind and figure out how it worked, she could decode all the gears shifting around in there. But she knew that was as likely to happen as Reaper was to don a pink tutu and start waving around a glittery wand.
The frustration that had been pacing around her for their entire journey finally won out. She stomped her foot, sending pain ricocheting through her upper arch, and then immediately grabbed it and began hopping around on one foot. Score one for Reaper—she had just pulled off the dumbest move of the century. He was gonna think she was a complete idiot if she kept up this behavior. And while she wasn’t willing to admit it to him, she could admit it to herself: she wanted so badly for him to like her.
“Fine. You can walk as long as you promise not to intentionally harm yourself again.” His harsh voice cut through her little rain dance and she stopped, carefully bouncing on the ball of her foot so as not to cause herself further injury.
“Fine, you have a deal. I promise not to intentionally harm myself.” The words sounded just as stupid coming out of her mouth as they had in her mind, but they seemed to appease her warrior. He turned and began walking in the opposite direction once more, giving her time to more closely study those rippling muscles underneath his tight T-shirt.
She’d seen pictures of supermodels who couldn’t pull off that level of sexy, but Reaper managed to do it without effort. His waist tapered into a narrow V that would make any woman salivate. Right along with a nice tight derrière that filled out those black tactical pants to perfection. He was a walking, talking god. Not like Adonis or anything, though—Reaper definitely belonged in the underworld.
Caroline snorted at her strange train of thoughts. And where exactly did she think she fit into his picture? She didn’t exactly run around in the same crowds as he did. It was impossible for her to picture him in a tuxedo and tie, and just as impossible for her to picture herself running around with a pistol gripped in her hand.
They went together about as well as Cinderella and Clint Eastwood.
That fairytale would never have a happily ever after. Caroline let out a pent-up sigh and ducked under a broad oval-shaped leaf the size of her entire body. She should just give up on this hero worship fantasy and focus on getting home to her father. He must be frantic. He’d devoted his entire life to safeguarding her, even going so far as to set up a prearranged marriage for her to ensure she’d be taken care of in the event of his death. He’d set up trust funds and signed over his entire properties in holdings to her in the event that anything ever happened to him. She’d grown up in the company of bodyguards. These precautions had been his response to the loss of her mother and twin-sister who’d died during birth.
Caroline didn’t resent growing up without a biological mother. Her cook and maid had been surrogate mothers, fussing and fighting over her, and her life had been filled up with enough love to erase any void. But there’d always been something else missing. She’d never been encouraged to seek out people her own age. Especially men her own age. She’d never felt real passion. The temptation she felt to reach out and touch Reaper, to take a chance, was so overpowering part of her wanted to take off running.
Of course, this wasn’t a situation she could escape, even if she took off running in the other direction. Reaper would just catch her, toss her over his shoulder and haul her out of the woods. The thought, although uncomfortable, made her belly quiver.
Geez—Winters had given her way too much drugs. Her mind was completely fried. She was in the sexual thrall of a soldier who could kill ten men with his bare hands and who was obviously annoyed every time she tried to spark up a conversation.
Good thing her housekeeper had always told her she could talk to a brick wall—she had a living, breathing one in front of her right now. She was no doctor, but most men with an injury as severe as Reaper’s would’ve passed out long ago.
Except for the blood pouring out of his shoulder, he hadn’t shown any signs of his injury wearing on him. However, now his skin was pale, and his hand felt a little cold against hers. He would probably never admit it, but his pace had slowed. If they didn’t make it out of the jungle soon, they’d have no choice but to overnight it in this deadly and dangerous wilderness.
A shiver worked across her shoulders and down her arms, and the pounding headache that had been hanging out just at the periphery of her senses pushed its way back in. Fatigue was like concrete shoes on her feet. Her own adrenaline had burned off and she was running low on energy.
Energy she couldn’t afford to lose if she was going to have to set up a shelter and watch over her man. Her man? Wha
t was she thinking?
Caroline stumbled into a brick wall, bounced off and glared at Reaper’s back. He could’ve at least told her he was about to stop right in front of her. But the chastisement on her lips went unspoken when she looked around his massive shoulders and saw the outskirts of the city. Hope surged through her so fast she got lightheaded. “You did it.”
“Did you doubt me?” His deep, husky voice made her think of dark nights, twisted up in silk sheets and skin on skin.
Her own experiences were so very far from that. She’d only made out with one guy in her life, an encounter about as exciting as kissing tree bark.
And it had been a complete set up, besides. Terry Green had arranged for his buddies to hide out nearby and take pictures of them locking lips. The tabloids had taken those snaps and run with them, implying that she and Terry had been hooking up for months and that the head of the American Morality Group, her father, couldn’t control his own teenage daughter.
She’d never even kissed her ex-fiancée’, the general, thank God.
Caroline’s childish dreams of dating the cute guy had been dashed completely by the whole incident, and after that she’d steered clear of men. She’d resigned herself to the fate of a politically arranged marriage, something that would at least make her father feel better about her future. So, she had avoided looking at other men, choosing not to put herself in a situation where she might be tempted.
But “tempted” was too small a word for what Reaper made her feel.
“So what’s the plan, Rambo?”
He shot her another annoyed glance and then went back to scanning the city. There were white, rectangular buildings interspersed with shacks and cement-block houses. The lush greenery of the jungle disappeared into a vast stretch of dry dirt and dead brown bushes.
It looked like no place she’d ever seen or been. The poverty was shocking to her, but it looked like an oasis compared the wild jungle they’d been trekking through all day.
Mayhem's Warrior: Operation Mayhem Page 8
