After seeming confused by his curiosity, she drew in a deep breath. “What can I say, I’m a mathlete. A nerd. Yeah, my Twitter sign is even at symbol nerdy bank analyst. How nerdy is that?”
As he slashed through the dense undergrowth, he listened while she chattered. He could hear the pride in her voice when she talked about going to college. She’d won a scholarship to the University of Corpus Christi, earned a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics and Statistics. Then got her Master of Science in Finance at the U of Texas, San Antonio. Geez, a master’s? He’d barely graduated high school. If he hadn’t crammed for the ASVAB like a son of a gun, he’d have never passed the Armed Services exam. Book smarts were not his strong suit.
“What about you?” She sounded out of breath.
“What about me?” She wanted to know if the guy who was saving her butt had a degree?
“Where are you from? Somewhere in the South, right?”
Defensive much, Bellamy? “Yes, ma’am. Talladega, Alabama. Home of the Superspeedway and the Peach Jam Jubilee.” Would she catch the edge of bitterness to his tone?
“Jubilee? That sounds fun.”
Fun? Nothing associated with home sounded fun to him. Except, now that she mentioned it, he guessed maybe he did have a recollection of sitting on his stepdad’s shoulders and watching some floats go by. Catching a piece of candy the beautiful Peach Queen threw. Giving the candy to his little sister and her grinning up at him like he was her hero.
And he’d end up playing that role for her over and over again.
“Clay? Is something wrong?”
Wow, that flash of memory brought a tightness to his chest. A distraction he could not afford right now. He cleared his throat. “Not a thing.” He checked his diver’s watch. Oh-nine-fifty. And they’d only traveled about two clicks. Still, her breathing was labored. The humidity was a factor. And she probably hadn’t eaten much, if anything, in the last couple of days. A few feet ahead was a small clearing of sorts. “Let’s stop and rest a sec.” He sheathed his knife.
As she gave a relieved sigh and moved to sit on a fallen tree branch, he dropped his pack and dug out a protein bar and the water bottle. “Here.”
She took them eagerly and he unsnapped his metal flask and allowed himself a mouthful of water, watching the woman for signs of pain, fatigue or mental breakdown.
She was short, but sturdy enough. Other than a wince of pain every so often—probably related to her bullet graze, she seemed in fairly good condition. Her torn skirt showed off her shapely legs. His gaze followed the length of her legs, imagining the rest of her thighs hidden by the skirt. Wondering if her panties matched her plain white bra. For some reason they seemed more erotic than any of that lacy underwear most women he hooked up with wore.
He really was a hound dog.
She tucked her legs under her and folded her arms over her chest, and he met her gaze. Damn. She must feel violated enough already and he’d gone and—but that wasn’t anger or fear he saw in her eyes. It was desire.
Which there was no way he was going to act on.
He put away his flask. “We’d better get— Don’t move, all right?”
“What?”
“I said, hold completely still.”
Though he kept his volume low, she must’ve responded to the command in his tone because she obeyed. He slid his knife from the holster on his hip, aimed at the long red-black-and-yellow-striped coral snake next to her right foot and threw it with enough force to pin the reptile’s head to the ground.
Gabby warily turned her head a fraction and moved just her eyes to glance at the dead snake at her feet.
Her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream.
Then she started hyperventilating.
3
GABBY COULDN’T BREATHE. Her vision wavered. All the greens ran together around her, and then everything turned black in her peripheral vision.
The next thing she knew, her head was cradled in the crook of Clay’s arm and he was stroking her head and murmuring soothing words.
“Just take a deep breath in. That’s it, you’re gonna be fine.”
Gabby opened her eyes. Clay was so close she could see a healthy growth of stubble beneath his dark green face paint. He’d taken off his helmet again, but his sheared hair could’ve been any color between dark blond to black. With a cowardly whimper she grabbed the front of his shirt and clung to him, pressing her nose into his neck.
She felt his arms tighten around her, aware that he was careful to avoid her bandage. And he rocked her, shushing her, even though she wasn’t crying. At that moment she fell just a little bit in love. She wasn’t crazy enough to believe the feeling flooding her heart was real. It was just the situation. The shared danger. The heroism of his rescuing her. What woman could resist that? But still... Right now it felt very real.
She reveled in his comfort while at the same time thinking any minute he would push her away and tell her they needed to keep moving. But he didn’t. He caressed her shoulder, rubbed her lower back. His shirt was wet from sweat and she wanted to unbutton it and slide her hand beneath to feel his heated skin, feel his strong heartbeat.
Sitting here, cradled in his masculine embrace, she wanted to kiss him. And more. She wanted to make love with him. Right now. Before the next snake, or leopard or kidnapper really did kill her.
But, of course, she wouldn’t.
She exhaled, long and cathartic. “Clay?”
“Yeah?” He eased his hold and she raised her head to look into his eyes.
“You’re going to get me home, right?”
His eyes narrowed and he smoothed a hand over her snarled hair, fingering a strand away from her face. “You have my word, darlin’.”
Darling. She’d never been any man’s darling before. Or sweetheart, or any endearment. Of course he didn’t mean it that way. It was just a Southern thing. But she still liked him calling her “darlin’.”
She wanted to stay like this forever, safe in his embrace, secure in the knowledge that nothing could harm her. He wouldn’t let it. But she managed a smile, pushed out of his arms and got to her feet, shaky, but steady enough. “Okay, then.” She wiped her palms on her skirt. “We need to keep going, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he retrieved his knife, reached for his backpack and helmet, and rose in one fluid motion. His smile spoke to her and squeezed her heart.
Snapping his helmet onto his backpack, he led the way, storming forward through the thick vegetation, hacking at vines with his huge serrated knife and glancing back to check on her every once in a while.
She’d give him the thumbs-up and a smile, and concentrate on not falling behind. Her wrecked shoes chafed the backs of her heels, and what parts of her weren’t covered in mud were covered in mosquito bites. But at least they seemed to be heading downhill. Unfortunately, the farther they traveled down the mountain, the hotter it got.
The heat was suffocating; the air so thick, each breath she drew was like drinking. She’d lived through many a blistering summer in South Texas. But none could compare to the humidity of this jungle.
Still, they trekked on for what seemed like hours.
“Want some more water?” Clay’s concerned tone must mean she’d started to lag behind.
She picked up her pace. “No, I’m good.” Despite her thirst, she’d had to...go for a long time now.
Sitting in that hole with James for all day and night, she’d quickly given up any expectations of privacy and did what she’d needed to. James had been oblivious to anything except his own fears and discomforts, anyway.
But this was Clay.
Plus...snakes.
“Well, I could use a rest.” He stopped and pulled out the bottle of water from his p
ants pocket and handed it to her.
He wasn’t even breathing hard, so she highly doubted he was tired, but he produced a flat, plastic canteen from another pocket, and took a small sip.
This was horrifying and ridiculous at the same time. In a minute she’d have to cross her legs. She might as well get the humiliation over with and admit her dilemma. “Um, I have to...”
He blinked at her. Then his eyes widened. “Oh! Yeah. Sure. Me, too.” His expression reverted to soldier-on-a-mission. “I’ll take the north, you take the south.” With a nod of his head he indicated to his right, then his left. She hadn’t seen him check a compass, so how could he possibly know which way was north?
Even as he disappeared into the vegetation to their right, she stood frozen. The crunching of leaves beneath his feet silenced. But even in the stillness, insects buzzed and birds called. Monkeys chattered. What if he was attacked by an animal or bit by a snake? What if he didn’t come back? Irrational fear seized her. No way could she tramp off into the dense jungle forest alone, no matter how badly she needed to—
“All done?”
Gabby snapped her head toward Clay. “I don’t think I can.”
His gaze drifted away and his jaw muscle ticked. The green face paint was wearing off in patches where he’d wiped at sweat. A shaft of sunlight hit his cheek as he stepped forward. “Sure you can.” He took her arm and propelled her a few feet into the undergrowth. “I’ll be right here. You go ahead, now.” Putting a thin tree between them, he spun on his boot heel and folded his arms, staring off into the distance.
But Clay’s close proximity caused a different dilemma. He might not be able to see her with his back turned, but he would still be able to hear her. Maybe the deafening sounds of nature would drown her out.
But...snakes.
“Um, Clay?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I borrow your knife?”
No answer. Maybe he didn’t trust her with a dangerous weapon. Then he unsnapped the leather holster at his hip and pulled out the wicked-looking knife, flipped it, caught it by the blade and extended the handle toward her.
She swallowed and took it. “Thank you.” Only then did she realize what needed doing actually required two free hands. After dithering a moment, she stuck the handle of the knife between her teeth, thoroughly checked the ground for anything slithering nearby and then got on with it.
When she approached him, he handed her the water bottle without a word and she returned his knife and rinsed her hands, and they headed back to the makeshift path he’d been cutting for them. A wave of exhaustion overcame her when she thought about continuing on. Her back stung. She was hot, and sticky, and her feet burned where the heels chafed, and— “Listen to yourself, you whiny baby! At least you’re alive.”
Clay was waiting for her, watching her with a wary expression. She realized she’d spoken out loud. Great, now he’d think she was bonkers. She knew she tended to talk to herself a lot. Most of the time, it didn’t matter.
“You good to go?” He was waiting for her, so she smiled and nodded, and trudged on.
She lost all sense of time as the day wore on. She thought about being home in San Juan, how glad her parents would be to see her again. About Jorge, and Bernard, and Patricia. She missed them. And she fingered her Mary medal as she prayed to her Abuelita. She couldn’t wait to see Mama and Papa. Finally, twilight settled over the tall trees. Clay hadn’t said a word. Even when he occasionally handed her the water bottle. “By tomorrow I’ll have a cool shower and clean clothes.” One foot in front of the other. “And I’m going to brush my teeth twice, and wash my hair three times and buy a new—”
Clay spun and clamped a hand over her mouth.
* * *
CLAY HELD A finger in front of his lips. He’d heard voices at three o’clock, speaking in what he thought must be Guarani, a native language of Paraguay. That, by itself, didn’t mean much. Over 80 percent of Paraguayans spoke Guarani. And he’d only been able to catch a few words. But one of them had been a Spanish word thrown in: Americano.
They were going to have to double back. He hoped not very far or they risked missing the helo. Then he recognized what else he heard in the distance. The roar of rushing water. They were closer to the Rio Bermejo than he’d thought. Thanks to Gabby’s fortitude, they’d made good time. Even if she had talked for most of the afternoon. He didn’t think she was even aware she’d been talking out loud. And the crazy thing was, he hadn’t minded. He’d liked listening to her voice, liked hearing about her close-knit family.
Mentally going over the map he’d studied on the plane ride down, he guesstimated the distance to the river. If they could travel by water tonight—depending on the current—they could make up the time they’d lose doubling back. He just really hadn’t wanted to travel at night. Lighting their way might as well shine a big bull’s-eye on their position.
But before he could worry about that, they had to avoid detection by the men who’d been asking about the Americanos. Slowly, he lifted his hand off Gabby’s mouth, slid his Sig from its shoulder holster and signaled to Gabby to stay put while he investigated the possible unfriendly’s position.
Careful to step light and move slow, Clay inched up to the edge of the clearing. He took up position behind a tree, pulled out his binoculars and spied a farmer in his wide-brimmed hat leading an ox away from the creek. No sign of anyone else. He scanned the meadow, but daylight was fading fast. Then, on the edge of his vision he caught a shadow. Two shadows. He lifted the binoculars again. They were armed. And they were headed this way.
When he returned to Gabby she was standing exactly where he’d left her, still, and as frightened as a deer in headlights. But she wasn’t panicking. And she’d obeyed his order. Which he hadn’t been sure he could count on.
Knowing how sound could carry, he spoke low in her ear. “We’re turning around. Follow the path I cleared, move quickly, but try to step softly. All right?”
Her breathing was shallow, but she nodded and did as he asked. Clay followed behind her trying to cover their tracks as best he could. He hadn’t disturbed the vegetation at the edge of the meadow. With any luck, the hunters wouldn’t find their trail.
They’d traveled only ten minutes before darkness swallowed the forest and he was forced to click on his pin light. He covered the top and shone it only on the jungle floor, but he still felt like he might as well have gift wrapped their position to the kidnappers. His gut clenched as he heard leaves rustling behind them.
He clicked off the light, grabbed Gabby and pulled her off the path. Hand over her mouth again, he held her still and waited.
Frogs croaked. Crickets chirped. A pygmy owl hooted.
The rustling drew closer. The kidnappers were practically on top of them, the shafts of light from their flashlights barely missing them. Gabby tensed and tightened her arms around his waist. He didn’t know when they’d put their arms around each other, but he lowered his head close to hers and stroked her hair. He still held his Sig in the other hand down by his side, slowed his breathing and prepared to spin and shoot.
The bandits walked right past them. The sounds of their crunching footsteps faded.
Clay became aware of her breathing, her soft breasts pressed against his chest. She lifted her face and her lips brushed his with a quick intake of breath.
He didn’t move, letting his mouth hover over hers. She let out the softest moan. She was so small, petite, the top of her head barely reached his shoulders, but her body was full and lush, her stomach cushioning his growing hard-on.
His blood pounding, his pulse racing, he wanted to take her trembling lips with his so badly.
Don’t do it.
He dropped his hands and stepped back. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep, clearing breath. His mission was hostage rescue. That should be his o
nly thought. Getting Gabby out of Paraguay safe and sound. Not how he wanted to pull her to him and kiss her. And certainly not how he wished he could cup her breasts in his palms, slide his hand—
Right, Bellamy. Get your head in the game. She was his responsibility.
He had to get control of himself and figure out what their next move would be. But, now that the immediate danger had passed, all he could think about was how she’d felt in his arms, how her quiet little moan had made his body come alive.
“Are they— Are they gone?” she whispered.
Snapping back to the here and now, he focused on the sounds of the jungle around them. “Long gone. We’re safe for now.” He holstered the Sig while he ran through various scenarios in his head. Night had shrouded the jungle in darkness. He had his night vision goggles, but Gabby would be left trailing after him essentially blind. And he couldn’t risk lighting their way again. No choice now. “We’ll hunker down here for the night, and then make our way to the extraction point at first light.”
That decided, he slid out his knife, slipped the goggles down over his eyes and cut several large, smooth palm fronds to build a makeshift cover. Chances were it’d be misting, if not outright raining before dawn.
He whispered for Gabby to join him under the leafy umbrella, but she didn’t move. “You checked for snakes?”
He smiled as he flipped the goggles onto the top of his head. “All clear.”
With a brief flash of white teeth, she sat beside him and he retrieved his MRE from his pack and offered it to her. “Dinner is served, ma’am.”
He could tell she was trying not to grab it from him and devour every bite. “Don’t you want some?”
“Not really hungry.” He pushed the ready meal into her hand.
Ignoring his growling stomach, he sipped the last of his water. They’d be at the river by oh-seven-hundred. And back at forward base by lunch. He’d gone way longer than this without eating. Even before he joined the military.
After hesitating a moment, she shrugged and finished off the food in minutes along with most of her water, then borrowed his knife again, along with his night vision goggles, and disappeared a couple of yards away. When she needed to return he called softly so she could sound her way back.
Her SEAL Protector Page 3
