Gideon

by Cherry Adair

  Unzipping his backpack, Riva pulled out a bar and broke it in two. Handing him half, she rezipped the pack.

  Riva unwrapped the dense bar, stuffed the paper in her front pocket, then took a big, dry, bite. Who the hell did he think he was, flirting with her, and making promises they both knew he wouldn’t keep?

  She chewed the mass that seemed to grow larger in her mouth with every chew. Unhooking her canteen, she drank the last few inches of water before reclipping it.

  She’d already shown she was available for sex whenever the hell he felt like putting his hands—and anything else—on her. He didn’t need to waste time romancing her. It wasn’t as if flirting with her, sweet-talking her, was an investment in their future.

  Hell. She was so freaking irritated she just had to say it. “You know, there won’t be a later.”

  He glanced at her, studying her eyes, then looked away with a shrug. “You don’t know that.”

  “How do you know I’m not seeing it?”

  “Because when you have a vision you sound…certain and cool. Now you’re just pissed.”

  “Not pissed at all, Stark. This is it. All we have is between now and Escobar Maza. That is the duration of us. After, there will be no more. Making it seem like there’s some kind of future just annoys the living crap out of me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because people like me don’t have happy endings. Violent endings, yes. Happy? Never.”

  “Here’s a vision. You in heels and a beautiful dress. Red. Short. You do have spectacular legs. Might as well show them off.”

  “You’ve seen them. Seen everything there is to see, as a matter of fact.” Of course he’d like to see her dressed as a woman. He was a macho guy, wasn’t he? He’d want perfumed skin, fluffy hair, and a skimpy dress. And a damned thong, or hell, he’d probably want her commando, even in a dress and heels. Especially in a dress and heels.

  Wrong time. Wrong place. Definitely the wrong woman.

  “I’m a counterterrorist operative. I don’t own either.”

  He shrugged broad shoulders. His easy expression and body language said I’m teasing you, but his eyes read deadly serious. It was the eyes that told his deepest thoughts. “Easy to remedy.”

  The conflicting microexpressions confused the hell out of her. She didn’t like being off balance. “I don’t do red dresses and I don’t date.”

  “Ever?”

  “Ever.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since none of your damned business, Stark. Why the twenty questions?”

  He glanced back at her as he slashed a clean stroke through the vegetation blocking their path. “Ask me anything you like.”

  Riva worked predominantly with men. She was used to testosterone-fueled alpha males. But she didn’t understand what kind of weird pull this alpha male had on her. He was no more handsome than Hunt St. John, no smarter than Kyle Wright, his body wasn’t that much more buff than Rafe Navarro.

  She didn’t just feel an incredible sexual attraction for Gideon. It was as though their very DNA spoke the same language. If she believed in such nonsense, and she hastened to assure herself that she damn well didn’t, it was as if they were soulmates.

  Riva didn’t want to go there, nor did she want to dig deep into her psyche for answers. “That’s hardly fair,” she told his back. “You don’t have any answers.”

  “Then I can ask you twice as many as you don’t ask me.”

  Riva gave an inelegant snort. “You were known as a playboy. I can see why.”

  “I was?” His shoulders tensed for a moment. “Hmm. You’d think if that was the case I’d be better at this.”

  “You’re not terrible at it.”

  “Ah. Damned by faint praise. Want to wield this for a while?”

  Not really; she’d been admiring the play of his muscles as he swung. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  He was ridiculously piratical-looking. Swarthy beard, long hair, a big frigging knife that could be a cutlass in his hand. All he needed was a gold hoop earring in his ear, and a half-clad, skimpily dressed woman draped over one arm, or that parrot she’d seen earlier perched on his shoulder.

  “There’s a forfeit,” he informed her solemnly, handing over the machete.

  Riva’s heartbeat kicked up as she curled her fingers around the thick handle, dropping her hand to hold the giant knife at her side. A heavy weight seemed to be pressing on her chest, and her skin felt hot and tight. “I don’t play games. If you want quick sex, sure. But don’t flirt with me. I’m not equipped to deal with it. When I’m out of my depth, I tend to get cranky and argumentative.”

  He slid his hand under her braid to cup her nape, pulling her inextricably closer. “I don’t think you’re ever out of your depth, Riva Rimaldi.”

  “Cranky, argumentative, and homicidal,“ she assured him. Why was there a damned lump in her throat? He was about to kiss her again. Apparently he felt entitled to do that whenever the hell he felt like it. She really should discourage him, but damn it to hell, she liked it when he kissed her. Which made her conflict even worse and soured her mood further. She didn’t like entanglements. Direct. To the point. That was her style. That way you didn’t get hurt. That way you didn’t care when things didn’t work out. “Hurry up and kiss me so we can keep moving. I don’t want to be in a sensual haze when your little friends get here.”

  “Sensual haze?”

  “I’m armed and extremely dangerous, Stark. Kiss me. Or don’t.”

  His hazel eyes looked as impenetrably green as the surrounding foliage as he gave her a considering look. Every flick of his eyes felt like a physical touch. He took in her narrowed eyes, the slope of her nose, then his gaze dropped to her mouth.

  Riva’s mouth tingled. She didn’t do it voluntarily, but her lips parted in anticipation.

  He lifted his head. “I’ll take a rain check. We really should push on. After you, ma’am.” He stood aside for her.

  Riva wondered how much strength it would take to use the machete to slice him off at the knees.

  It was arduous, sweaty work. After several hours of pushing, ducking, and circumventing, they were both breathing hard, sweat dripping off their bodies.

  Even though the sun was high overhead, it wasn’t visible. But Gideon felt its sweltering rays filtering through the tree canopy. The wet earth gave up its moisture, surrounding them like a sauna.

  “I’ve been in a sauna,” Gideon said quietly, more to himself than to Riva. “After Zak and I did a winged-suit BASE jump in Voss. Middle of Norway’s most spectacular fjord landscape. Then we went to this incredible sauna…” The realization stopped his forward movement for a moment. “My God. That’s a real memory as Gideon.”

  Flushed cheeks made her eyes look deep and mysterious. “That’s good news.” Her breathing was more labored now as they climbed to a higher elevation on the slope of the mountain. “Maybe it’ll all come back to you.” She wiped her sweaty face with a bandana, then shoved it into her back pocket. With her T-shirt clinging to her breasts and midriff as if painted there, she looked heated, disheveled, focused. And so sexy. Gideon added permanent erection to his list of discomforts.

  Their clothing, which had dried briefly after the rain, was soaked again by mid-afternoon, between sweat and the moisture dripping off the vegetation. They’d been walking since well before dawn, eating and drinking as they went. She’d taken back the machete a while ago, gamely hacking away at the endless greenery. While Riva had yet to complain, he could tell that she was tiring. Determined to find Maza she refused to take a break.

  “How does anybody find their way around the jungle without GPS?” The way she said it indicated it was more casual observation of the obvious than conversation. At least she was too tired to sustain her pissy attitude for very long.

  Adjusting course, Gideon slashed a path through a mass of frilly wild orchids the rich, deep color of a good Burgundy. “There are landmarks if you look hard enough. Or go high e
nough to see them. Anybody out here without at least a compass could wander around lost for years. Can’t see any landmarks from the jungle floor even though we’re halfway up Qhapaq. About ten thousand feet above sea level now.”

  He pointed left. “Mountain peak is that way. And a deep valley will be coming up on our right in a little over an hour. You can’t see either for the trees. You’ll hear the falls long before we reach them. Rest your arm, we can push through here.”

  Riva dropped her arm, her fingers gripping the machete at her side. Since his arm felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds, he could only imagine the strain on her slender arms. She hadn’t flagged once. His admiration for her went up another notch.

  “The falls are about half an hour from here.” He heard them over the susurrus of the leaves, and the chirp and whir of insects. “We can rest up there for a couple of hours.”

  “A couple of hours? Are you insane? I don’t need to rest. Let’s just push on. Angélica just found Andrés and the others. She’s on a rampage and has death and dismemberment on her mind. She’ll intercept us before we make it to Maza’s camp. Gideon, we have to keep moving.”

  Hearing that Angélica was on the move tempted Gideon to encourage Riva to go ahead while he circled back and took them all out. He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t, but he couldn’t second-guess his decision to stay with Riva to the end. Stay the course.

  “We’ve been walking for over fourteen hours. I’m tired even if you’re not.” Not true. His adrenaline was charged, and he was ready for that fight. He was also used to this environment. But trekking through the dense vegetation at this elevation was taxing for anyone, especially someone not used to the higher altitude.

  They were in for high-octane, danger caught as they were between Angélica Diaz and Maza. He didn’t know what Riva’s limitations were; probably none, he acknowledged ruefully, but discovering them in the middle of a shitstorm would prove fatal. Her disbelief was evident in her tone as she swung around to look at him. “You’re tired? There’s no damn way I’m going to stop to take a tea break when Maza is waiting for me and Mama is on our asses. You need to pop some vitamins and eat your Wheaties, Stark.”

  He suppressed a laugh, then sobered. “How long ‘til the ANLF reaches us if we don’t go any farther?”

  “We are going—” She threw up one hand. “Fine. Possibly three hours. A little more.”

  “Anyone from the SYP patrolling in that length of time?”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. “Not that I can see. But that doesn’t mean things can’t change on a dime. There are hundreds of variables. My predictions aren’t always foolproof, and full disclosure: I don’t always see everything that might go into an outcome. There could be elements I’m not aware of, factors that I don’t see until it’s too late.”

  “Got it.” He waited until she opened her eyes again, her gaze connecting with his. “We’ll stop. Eat. Drink. Rest. They can run around looking for us. Hopefully the two groups will find each other, and we won’t have to do any work at all.”

  “I’d prefer not to leave that to chance. I’ll kill them myself while you put your feet up and sip your Earl Grey.”

  Gideon grinned. God, she was perfect. Where had she been all his life? “ We’ll stop at the falls long enough to grab a hot meal and change our socks. Fair?”

  “If you insist.”

  If he knew Riva, and he was starting to, it would be quick. Quick, but he’d get more liquid and some protein into her. Let her body adjust to the climb. They’d check their weapons and be ready. He might not be psychically inclined like Riva, but it didn’t take a psychic to know they were in for a bloodbath once they reached Maza. And that would be after the battle that would doubtless be joined when Mama reached them.

  It was slow going, but they kept moving. Six hours in the jungle felt like twelve hours anyfreakingwhere else. The stifling wet heat made it feel even longer. Just standing still made Riva sweat.

  She felt an urgency, as physical as a timer in her head, counting down the minutes to whatever hellacious act Maza planned. Speculation on why there was the insistent tick, tick, tick in her head kept her mind occupied as they mindlessly cut down any obstacle in their path.

  Since they were gradually climbing, she attached her headset, hoping the higher elevation and fewer mountains to block signals would help with making contact with control or her team. So far there hadn’t even been a faint crackle to indicate a live feed. And if there was a drone overhead, she was unable to see it for the canopy.

  But what was Gideon’s deal? What motivation did he have for staying with her? She had no freaking idea. Now that he knew he was Gideon Stark, and no longer Sin Diaz, he no longer had a dog in this fight. “You should head to Seattle and find your family.”

  Turning his head, he gave her a puzzled look. “That’s random. What brought that on?”

  “There’s no reason to put your life in danger.” Riva’s heart galloped, creating uncomfortable hard knocks against her breastbone. The pressure in her chest hurt, making her eyes sting.

  She didn’t do emotion. Didn’t do—God forbid—crying. Why the hell now? With him right beside her? “You don’t need to be here. Go home, Find your brother. Have a nice life.”

  He stopped her by curling hard fingers around her upper arm, and drawing her to a standstill. “And leave you alone to find your way to Maza’s camp? With the ANLF on your ass, and us not sure if Maza hasn’t found another psychic, rendering you superfluous? Yeah, right.” He gave her a hard look, his lips thin with anger. “I should go find a Starbucks and grab a latte.”

  It would be childish to peel his fingers off her arm, so instead, she gave his hand a pointed look before forcing herself to meet those damned X-ray eyes of his. “Any of those things with Maza is a possibility. But I’m not your problem, Stark.”

  “True, you’re not. And you’re right. I don’t give a damn if the ANLF and the SYP murder each other in their sleep. Since you seem to have given this some thought, let’s see where it takes us. I’d—”

  Not wanting him to continue, even though she’d opened this can of freaking worms, Riva put a hand on his chest. Beneath the thin damp fabric of his T-shirt, his body felt hot, his muscles rock-hard. She dropped her hand. Big mistake touching him. Constantly on the razor’s edge of lust, she was better off not having physical contact.

  “No,” she told him firmly. “Let’s not.”

  She knew what she was asking, but it wasn’t fair that he, of course, did not. Inexplicably, not acknowledging that they had no emotional attachment was less painful than knowing for a fact that they were two ships passing at full speed in the night. In this case, ignorance was bliss.

  Riva told herself firmly that Gideon Stark was not breaking her heart right now. Poking at a wound, visibly bleeding or not, was unproductive. “You’re determined to play Galahad and escort me all the way,” she said, keeping her tone light with effort. To prove to herself that she could, she walked away from him a few feet. He let her go with ease.

  “Thank you.” Her smile might be forced, but it said no big deal. “I appreciate it. Please don’t get killed on my behalf,” she added lightly as she turned in the right direction and forged ahead, only to be halted again with his heavy hand on her shoulder.

  “What’s going on, Riva?”

  Throat tight, she shrugged. His fingers tightened. “It doesn’t make sense for you to put your life on the line for a stranger, that’s all. But since you can’t be dis—”

  His mouth came down, quick, decisive, and hard on hers, effectively cutting off her comment and setting her on fire at the same time. His tongue slid and wrapped around hers, as his teeth scraping her bottom lip. Every cell in her body focused on their intimate connection. It wasn’t just a kiss. Sin…Gideon—it no longer mattered—branded himself upon her synapses.

  When he pulled back, giving her a second to catch her breath, his gaze bored into hers. “You sure you still feel like a
stranger?”

  Riva pressed her lips tightly together. Way easier to hold back the instant reply from escaping her lips than to keep it from reverberating in her whole body. They were far too intimately connected to be mere strangers now. Death, danger, sex, and emotions she’d not yet had time to fully contemplate while they were running for their lives, all churned within her.

  “You have another life you don’t even know about yet. Don’t throw it away before you find out.” Riva turned away from him and pushed forward into the trees.

  Hours went by without a word. Sometimes they were slashing at dense vegetation, and occasionally they were able to make good time because the understory was thin and easy to traverse. No humans to deal with, which was good news. And there were surprisingly few animals to be seen, but she knew they were around. Various birds’ calls, insects’ clicks, and monkeys’ chatter came in surround sound.

  Over three hundred tree species, shaded by enormous Kapok, Palm, and Brazil nut trees, some towering hundreds of feet over the jungle floor showed the vast diversity of flora in the tropical rain forest of Cosio. Intertwining branches and aerial roots kept them upright in the thin soil.

  The tree canopy was choked with woody climbers, bromeliads, orchids, and ferns, all fighting for a sliver of sunlight. Amidst the dense trees and undergrowth it was hard to judge elevation. Hell, most of the time it was difficult to see a patch of blue sky. But Riva could feel the elevation change in the burning of her quads and the need for her lungs to suck in more air with the effort of each step.

  As they moved through the dim world, surrounded by dappled sunlight and a green mass of rippling leaves, Riva felt as though she walked underwater. Underfoot, the soggy, muddy ground was covered with leaf litter and a lattice of exposed roots. When—no, if, Riva amended silently to herself—she got out of here, she was going to spend a long week on a beach somewhere with endless blue sky.

  A howler monkey, following them for a mile, perched on a branch ahead of where Gideon slashed through the branches. The monkey screamed like a woman in pain, making the hair on Riva’s nape stand up as it had done for the last hour. “That damn monkey does that on purpose to get on my nerves. Look at it. It’s daring me to shoot it.”