Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp)

by Dianna Love

  She even liked feeling protected, but she would never admit it.

  He didn’t move his hands, didn’t say a word or push any boundaries. Did he know that his stillness was alluring? That the slower he breathed, the more content she was to just lie here and accept the peaceful feeling of being held against his warm body, caught in the luxury of his arms.

  She should be hot in the jungle, right? Why did his heat feel so good? She hadn’t felt cold in the hut, but maybe the temperature dropped in the jungle at night. She’d have to ask Tarzan tomorrow. He hugged her closer against him and she decided to let him have his way.

  With a few hours of rest, she’d be ready to hike across whatever country they were in. She shivered. Had to be warmer once the sun came up. Maybe Tarzan knew a plant to put on her arm and stop the throbbing.

  Sweat trickled down her neck and she shivered again. That made no sense. Figure it out tomorrow.

  Exhaustion claimed her.

  CHAPTER 14

  Logan came awake at the sound of something—or someone—moving around nearby. He shouldn’t have nodded off for so long, but there was only so much a body could take.

  From the soft light outside, he guessed it was barely dawn.

  The sound of dry grass being stepped on and pushed aside rustled softly.

  He remained perfectly still, hoping Violet, aka Jane of the Jungle, stayed asleep until he determined what was out there.

  She slept on her side, spooned close to his chest. He slipped his fingers around the stock of the pistol he’d placed on the ground in front of her, keeping it within easy reach. She should be sleeping behind him where he could shield her, but the hardheaded woman wouldn’t hear of it, so he had her wrapped as securely as he could in his arms.

  Not that he was complaining at the moment.

  Asleep, she was soft and pliant, fitting perfectly along his body. Dark hair fell across her face and over her shoulders. He’d finally get a good look at her when the sun showed up.

  But he wouldn’t disturb her yet just to see her face. She was conked out.

  Another whisper of noise reached his ears. Whatever was out there kept coming closer.

  Logan gripped the weapon, his senses alert and sharp again.

  An animal moved slowly into view, walking past the front of their hideout.

  He let out the breath he’d been holding when he realized the wild cat wasn’t a jaguar or puma. It went about twenty pounds, and had a dark, grayish-brown coat. A jaguarundi that preyed on small animals and stayed around water. Logan had bedded down in its hunting grounds.

  Pausing, the animal sniffed the air in Logan’s direction, eyes narrowed, considering what it scented, then the cat faced the river again.

  No problem.

  Not until the warm body in Logan’s arms moved and let out a groan.

  The jaguarundi froze, ears pointing up, tufts of fur lifting on its back.

  Logan covered Violet’s mouth with his hand. She went rigid, now fully awake.

  It might not be a large cat, but it was still dangerous and Logan didn’t want to risk the sound of a gunshot or to kill the animal unnecessarily. Several tense seconds passed before the cat relaxed its stance and moved down the slope to the river.

  Logan released a sigh filled with relief. He placed the pistol back down in front of Violet again. Her muscles eased as the threat passed. He moved his hand from her mouth, but paused to brush his thumb across her cheek. She didn’t say a word or react. That just made him want to run his hands all over her and feel every inch of that Amazon body. Hell, he wanted to do a lot more than feel the curves of her body.

  It was surprising what a little sleep, water and even that cool wash down last night could do to revive him.

  She adjusted her position, which bumped her butt against his dick.

  Heat pooled in his groin and he couldn’t think past the urge to touch her.

  Just what she needed. Some horndog panting after her.

  Hell of a time to feel something for a woman. In fairness to his deprived body, when was the last time he’d just slept with a woman in his arms? He couldn’t recall, because lazing around with a female equated to being involved and that did not happen on an op, wouldn’t happen again at this point in his life anyhow.

  Not after he’d left one in danger years ago.

  He’d been sure she was safe from any threat. He’d been in Paris only to do surveillance, and her apartment turned out to be the perfect place for observation. She’d made it clear she was not a woman to get serious about so he’d planned to kiss her goodbye when his job was done and forget about her.

  But she’d turned out to be so much more than a casual affair.

  And he’d almost gotten her killed when he was called to extract a Russian diplomat wanting to defect.

  He’d never met another woman who’d reached inside and cupped his heart, and didn’t intend to make that mistake again. He had another ten, maybe fifteen years, of fieldwork in him. He wasn’t tossing that aside for any woman or hooking up with one just to leave her alone at home always waiting for him and wondering if he’d make it back.

  So why did this woman have him on edge?

  She had secrets and he hated secrets.

  That had to be it. He had to know everything about anyone he encountered, especially on a mission.

  Didn’t take much to figure out that she was someone who kept her secrets locked in one hell of a protective fort and, damn him, he couldn’t stand it. He wanted to slip inside when she wasn’t looking and find out who lived behind those walls. To unmask her for real and discover everything about her, like why she wanted to meet the Banker, who she worked for and ... to be honest, what it was about her that had him rock hard even in this situation.

  He could admit to himself that he wanted her, but that didn’t mean anything would come of it even if his dick didn’t care what side of the law she lived on.

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  Besides, this was nothing more than a residual effect of getting himself just as turned on as she’d been when he’d had her in the hotel suite, telling her how he had to prepare her for Nitro, the man she’d thought was Dragan.

  Had Nitro made it out of the Trophy Room alive?

  God, he hoped so.

  Logan’s team was exceptional and Nitro was one creative son of a gun when it came to exit strategies on the fly. Still, leaving any of his men alone ate a hole in his gut. Going upstairs with Violet had been a gamble he’d lost, and Nitro had better not have ended up paying for Logan’s mistake.

  Logan would make a lot of people pay if anything happened to one of his men.

  Violet shifted her legs and her bottom brushed him again. Just a simple touch, but she might as well have grabbed him. He knew without a doubt that hadn’t been intentional, but that didn’t stop him from clenching his jaw at the ache that spiraled through his groin.

  He had to get out of this hole and move around. Do some adjusting so he could walk. When he could draw a breath and speak in a normal voice, he said, “Morning, Jane.”

  He was not calling her Violet any more.

  She mumbled something that started with “f” and ended with Tarzan. She stretched slowly then shuddered as if she was cold. He had a memory of her shaking like that during the night and he’d tried to cover her better with his body each time. He’d assumed it was the lack of body fat and extra weight loss causing her to be chilled.

  But now that he noticed, the back of her shirt was damp with sweat.

  Cold in this heat and sweating?

  When she moved the arm that had rested on her hip, he saw the stained sleeve where she’d bled through.

  Son of a bitch. She wasn’t chilled from the temperature, but from an infected cut. She’d downplayed it by saying she got nicked. How bad was it? He gently grasped her elbow and she tensed again. “Why didn’t you tell me this was a deep cut, Sugar?”

  She spoke with a rasp and irritation. “Like you have a needle
and thread handy?”

  Ah, fuck. The cut was bad enough to need stitches and she’d been losing blood. It had probably clotted since last night so he wouldn’t pull off the wrapping yet, but they had to get to a first aid kit. He hadn’t found any antibiotic in his pouches and if she’d run across any meds in hers she’d have used them.

  He lowered her arm gently back to her side.

  Muscles flinched in her face and her jaw was rigid. She was gritting her teeth. Had to hurt like hell. But she hadn’t said a word. Damn, what a woman and he couldn’t stand to see her in pain.

  When he touched her forehead, she swatted his hand away.

  Didn’t matter. He’d felt enough heat to confirm her fever.

  This changed everything.

  He hadn’t wanted to move during the day and had planned to cross the river a couple of times tonight to slow down any tracking, but waiting to reach civilization or someone with meds meant her infection would only be worse by then.

  He put some steel in his voice. “Drink up what’s left of the water and we’ll refill before we get moving.”

  “Thought you wanted to stay here a while,” she said with a grogginess he didn’t like.

  “I did. We rested, now it’s time to move unless you’re not up for it.” That should raise her hackles enough to get her moving.

  “Screw you. I’m fine.”

  There was that brawler’s ego he hoped would keep her going until he could find a way to get her out of this place alive. He might have to piss her off nonstop to make that happen. Not a problem if that was what it took to keep her on her feet so they could cover ground more quickly. He’d rather leave her here to rest and hunt down what he needed on his own, but she couldn’t be trusted to stay put. And if she fell asleep she’d be vulnerable to any human or animal who found her.

  He let out a disgruntled sigh. “If you’re so ready, move out of here, but slowly so we don’t draw the cat’s attention. Stay under these trees until I’m out, too.”

  Drawing the attention of the cat didn’t worry him so much once they were out of the hole, but her stepping out into view did. Last night she’d been as sharp as any agent he’d worked with, but right now she was not on her game.

  She wriggled her way out and got to her feet.

  He followed her, feeling every one of his thirty-four years when he pushed up to his knees and stood. She had her back to him, staring out toward the river where the jaguarundi moved with stealth along the bank. The cat was far enough away to not be an issue.

  “Strange cat,” she muttered then she took a step.

  “Where’re you going, Sugar?”

  She lifted her good hand and waved him off without turning around. “Don’t panic. I’ve finally hydrated enough that I need to give some back. Just turn around. I’m not going far.”

  He started to argue until she disappeared between the stand of trees and more boulders that fronted them on the high side of the hill. That allowed him a chance for the same nature break.

  He’d just returned to the front of their hideaway when she came walking quietly back toward him. The little guard’s pants hit mid-calf on her and she picked at the long sleeves that stopped short of her wrists. Logan would never forget seeing her strut into the Trophy Room on that pair of legs. She’d moved smoothly with confident posture, comfortable with her height where some women that tall tried to downplay it.

  Not Jane. She’d swept through the Trophy Room, dragging tongues to the floor and not wasting the time of day on any of them.

  Logan had caught her attention when he’d described bending her over that sofa. Damn, he’d love to see her face when he drove into her.

  Dream on, buddy.

  Speaking of seeing her face, he was finally going to get a look at this woman.

  Sunlight leaked across the horizon and brightened the shadows beneath the trees. Jane stepped into better view, swiping a handful of hair over her shoulder. The sun gave life to the red streaks in dark auburn hair that fell past her shoulders. A half-assed smile tilted one side of her mouth.

  She had a sweet mouth, a wide one that reminded him of Julia Roberts. Her bottom lip was cracked from more than being dry. Those assholes had worked her over. She had an ugly bruise across one cheek and another on her forehead.

  But that mouth was special. It nudged a memory.

  Logan’s gaze traveled up to take in the rest of her face. Narrow nose and high cheeks. And a mass of auburn hair. She sure seemed familiar.

  A lot of women had those features, but not arranged exactly like that.

  The skin tingled along Logan’s arms when he finally met her gaze.

  He stared at eyes too deep a shade of green to be forgotten.

  No fucking way.

  CHAPTER 15

  Dragan’s face had been pounded to the point it was painful to look at him, but what Margaux could make out about his eyes looked shocked. They were brown or maybe a dark hazel color. Hard to say with him squinting and her throbbing arm demanding her attention.

  She couldn’t stop the constant pain thrumming in her arm so she focused harder on Dragan.

  Why did he seem so surprised? Granted, she didn’t look like the bombshell who’d walked into the Trophy Room, but he didn’t have to gawk.

  She cocked an eyebrow and planted her feet. “Disappointed I’m not the blond you were panting after or surprised to find out I really don’t have purple eyes?” She rubbed her tired eyes, muttering, “They washed my contacts out with the first bucket of saltwater in my face, but they were only cosmetic.”

  When her vision cleared, he was frowning, still hung up on something.

  “Your bruises look worse than mine, Tarzan.” She stared at the middle of his face. “Is your nose broken?”

  “It was. I fixed it.”

  The bruised nose dropped him a point on the attractive scale, but fixing it himself raised his badass level by ten so he was still in beefcake range. Especially if lethal men turned you on. She had bad wiring somewhere, because spooning with this one had been more comfortable than she’d like to admit.

  He’d been an intimidating personal protector back at the Trophy Room, but out here he was downright deadly.

  The black beard that had been thick, but neatly trimmed when they’d first met was now a wild, bushy thing. And he did have some ugly ass bruises. A yellow-and-blue one peeked out from the black hair falling over his forehead. One eye still had plenty of swelling. So much that she questioned if he’d have decent peripheral vision. That nose had a nasty gash over the top, but it did look straight.

  That had to hurt like a bitch when he fixed it.

  “You got the plastic bag?” he asked, moving on past their rough appearance.

  Water. Her throat was dry as old socks. She reached inside her shirt and pulled it free. There was maybe a cup left. She took a good swallow and handed the balance over to him.

  After he drained it, he kept the bag. “I’ll get more water. You stay here—”

  “No. Someone’s got to watch your back.”

  He closed his eyes and did a little headshake over something then opened his eyes and crossed his arms. “Today will go much better if we don’t argue every point.”

  “You mean if I don’t argue with your orders.” She was tired, hot, thirsty and miserable. Someone should warn him against pushing her right now.

  “I’m the one familiar with this terrain,” he pointed out, angling his head in a way that said he waited for her to top that.

  “Yes, you are, but you can’t just make decisions for both of us. If we stay together we have a better chance of defending ourselves as a team.”

  “But if I go down there alone, I’m less noticeable.”

  Her head and arm throbbed in tandem. She rubbed her neck. “Then we’ll have to be less noticeable together. After that, we’ll start working our way down the river like you were talking about yesterday.”

  He glanced away. “That’s changed.”

  “Why?
”

  “I’ve had some rest and time to think through a better plan.” He lifted a hand to scratch his beard and spoke in a low volume, just loud enough for her to hear. “They’ll be out hunting us by now. They’re better rested and fed so it won’t take long to catch up to us once they pick up our trail. Way I see it, the leader is staying in camp and sending out the other three in the most likely directions, which would be down to this river unless ...”

  Her head wanted to explode. Or she wanted it to explode. Anything to unleash the pressure. Sweat dripped into her eyes. His deep voice rumbled on. Her mind wandered. She wiped the sweat out of her eyes and shook with a hard chill.

  Her arm burned with infection.

  She’d be a liability if she didn’t keep a grip on reality.

  He paused. “You okay?”

  What had he been saying? She snapped, “Fine, just stop boring the shit out of me and tell me what you want to do.”

  “Backtrack to the kidnappers’ camp.”

  “What?” She had to be delusional from the fever setting in, because she couldn’t have heard him right. “How is that a good plan?”

  “I can keep us alive for a long time in a jungle, but we don’t have any idea where we’re headed. We could end up going deeper into the jungle instead of toward civilization. Their leader had a sat phone. We get our hands on that and I can get us out of here.”

  She had to admit it was decent plan if they were in better shape and had more weapons. But she didn’t have any idea where they were going or how long they’d survive out on their own. This was not her scene and she was ready to do whatever it took to get the hell back to her pavement and exhaust fumes.

  If Dragan had people who could extract them, she was all in for going after that sat phone.

  Then all she’d have to do was escape him and his people.

  Had to be easier than this once she had food, more water and sleep. She nodded. “Okay, good plan. I still want to watch your back.”

  “Keep your pistol out and stay close.” He shoved the plastic bag inside his shirt, leaving his hands free when he turned and started down the hill. When he dropped into a crouch, moving through the tall grass, she followed suit, carrying her pistol and dogging his steps.