Chasing Fortune (Stealth Ops Book 8)

by Brittney Sahin

  “Regardless, I’m sorry.” He lifted one hand to sweep his thumb over her cheek. “I should’ve pushed harder to get you to open up. I let my own problems get in the way.” His tone was husky with regret, and his words were going to shred her. “And the scars . . .”

  “Don’t you dare try and take the blame. I won’t have it.” She slid her hands up his wet shirt and set them on his chest. “I’m stubborn, and I was worried the more you knew, the more danger you’d be in.” She fought back the tears that threatened. “I’d planned to tell you after the gala. I promise.” I was too late. “I had hoped they’d never find me.”

  “Who are ‘they’?”

  There was so much to say, but they needed to focus on their survival, so she avoided his eyes and changed the subject. “Bear,” she whispered. “He’s all alone.”

  “Someone will realize we’re gone and go to my house. I already thought of that.”

  Rory found his eyes again, knowing he wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily. She wouldn’t have if she were him. But she hoped he’d trust her. Give her a chance to explain everything. Maybe when they weren’t stranded on an island in the middle of a storm that Mother Earth was sending their way to remind them of the power she wielded.

  “Elaina knew you needed us with you last night. It wasn’t a double-date matchmaker situation like I had hoped. She just knew.” He paused. More guilt in his eyes. In the rigid lines of his body. “I ignored my instincts last night. I had a bad feeling the moment we stepped into that ballroom, and I—”

  “Don’t.” She shook her head, and his palm cupped her cheek. “I can’t handle you doubting yourself.”

  A quiet moment passed before he whispered, “And I can’t begin to imagine what would have happened if we hadn’t been taken, too. And I don’t know why they’d want to take . . .”

  . . . You. He left off that part of his statement, but she heard it just the same, a whisper in the wind. Because they were there for her.

  “When the rain stops and we get somewhere safe, I’ll tell you everything.” She sniffled.

  “Okay,” he said softly, and she looked left, then right, trying to place their location, but all she saw were trees and shrubs.

  “Do you know what part of the island we’re on?”

  He grimaced. Bad news? “The opposite side of where the ranger is supposed to be according to the GPS.”

  “Of course.” She smoothed a thumb over the buttons of his shirt. The fabric molded to his body, outlining every ridge and muscle. “Thank you for saving us.”

  His lips crooked into a smile. “It was a team effort.”

  And of course, he wouldn’t be a showboat and take credit.

  “Rory, I, um . . .”

  “I know.” No words were needed. She felt the same for him—a deep connection that went beyond desire, relieved they were both alive and okay. They could get through this together.

  He cupped her face, his hands sliding beneath where the plastic of the hood covered her ears. In the space of a heartbeat, he captured her lips, and it was as if he had breathed new life back into her.

  One hand remained on her face as his other hand moved beneath her jacket and shirt, then up to palm her breast. He smoothed her nipple between his thumb and finger, a reminder of the pleasure they’d shared before everything went sideways last night.

  A burst of heated desire flooded her body, warming her chilled skin.

  She groaned against his mouth, shocked she was still standing after yesterday. Surprised she was kissing him, wanting him to devour her, despite all they’d been through in the last twenty-four hours.

  But they hadn’t gone down with the boat.

  They survived.

  And it dawned on her that there was only one way forward—one way to truly move on.

  She had to finish what she’d started before Carter had stopped her in her tracks.

  It’d be the only way to keep her family and friends safe. The only way she’d be able to live her life without constantly looking over her shoulder for a shadow.

  She had to come up with a plan to take down the man she’d been after for years.

  A legendary figure no one had seen.

  But he was real.

  And it was time for the legend to fall.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The clouds had yet to part, but the rain had stopped, so they began their trek toward the ranger station, planning to stop at one of the caves on the way for water and rest. It was probably a little past noon on Sunday, not that any of them knew for sure.

  Did her parents know she was missing? Jesse? Ella? Surely, A.J. and his coworkers were trying to track them down.

  Rory’s stomach contracted when hunger pains struck her, and she banded an arm over her abdomen, hoping it wouldn’t draw Chris’s attention. The small amount of food that had been on the lifeboat was barely enough for one person to survive on for a day, but both Chris and Roman had forced Harper and Rory to eat the granola bars that morning. Literally forced. The guys wouldn’t take no for an answer despite protests to share. Rory had secretly hidden half of her bar in the drawstring bag on Chris’s back and had every intention of forcing him to eat later.

  But still, she was famished. All the calorie-burning walking wasn’t helping either.

  Thankfully, Roman and Chris had created makeshift shoes for Rory and Harper out of supplies from the emergency boat. The terrain was rocky and full of holes with spiny branches, cacti, and biting insects at every turn. But she wasn’t about to let Chris carry her for miles.

  Chris was on Rory’s left, carefully watching over her as they walked. Not that he’d admit it. He was probably worried she’d roll her eyes at his overprotectiveness given how she’d expressed her ability to protect herself with karate skills and four firearms.

  But honestly, after he’d saved her from those goons on the boat and kept her from drowning, she was more than happy to have this man keep an eye on her. To steer her away from the potential dangers that lurked on this island.

  For the last hour, they’d been traveling along the edge of the plateau, the top part of the island, with a view of the Atlantic and the coral reefs down below. The water was clear as Bombay Sapphire gin and the same azure blue of the bottle it came in.

  Now that the sun was out, the rock walls were probably dry. If it became necessary for them to descend rapidly, there’d be less chance of slipping.

  The cliffs were maybe twenty feet high. Scalable without a rope. And every so often, sand dotted the base of the cliffs. Not enough space for sunbathing, which meant they probably wouldn’t encounter any guests they could holler out to for help.

  The three disposable phones had been totally worthless without a signal, and the batteries had died in two of them anyway. So, their best hope would be the ranger or visitors arriving for an adventure now that the storm was gone.

  “We call these ‘tourist trees’ back home in Florida,” Roman spoke up for the first time in a while and set a hand to the bark of a gumbo-limbo tree.

  “Because of the red peeling bark that looks like a sunburn?” Harper asked, keeping pace with Roman when he began walking again.

  “Yeah.” Roman smiled Harper’s way. Even from Rory’s vantage point as she walked behind them, she noticed Roman’s gaze lingering on Harper.

  “What?” Harper asked him, scurrying to keep pace with his rapid steps in her homemade shoes. “I still have raccoon eyes, don’t I?” she asked teasingly. “I thought we cleaned all our makeup off this morning.”

  “You look perfect.” Roman smiled at her before returning his focus straight ahead but came to an abrupt stop a moment later. “Guess we’re going to need to change directions and head inland a bit.”

  Rory followed his line of sight and spotted a cactus forest. Yeah, she wasn’t eager to come out of there looking like a porcupine.

  “At least we’ve made progress.” Chris wiped his brow and scanned the terrain. It had to be at least eighty degree
s, and with less than two water bottles left, they’d be needing fresh water by dinner.

  So far, they’d only encountered two feral cats, one pig, and a goat that had nipped Harper in the ass and produced a hearty laugh from Roman.

  “We’ll need to hunt,” Rory said once they’d chosen a new path and were on their way again.

  With what? But she kept that to herself. Maybe they knew how to make weapons out of—sticks? Was that part of SEAL training?

  “I’m not shooting an animal with a pistol,” Chris spoke up.

  Right. She nearly forgot the guys had grabbed weapons from the yacht before they disembarked, and yeah, she was on board with Chris’s decision. A pistol to an animal made her cringe.

  “Maybe we’ll make a spear and fish. That sounds manly,” Chris added as they navigated the ground littered with leaves, dangerously hiding rocks beneath them.

  The sounds of wildlife became more prominent upon leaving the perimeter of the island. A few yellow butterflies crossed Rory’s path, followed by a green iguana. She gave the little guy passage before moving forward.

  “Chris won’t hunt,” Roman announced, and no surprise there given Chris’s love for animals. How could she forget? “I’ll probably have to do it.”

  Chris walked in stride with Rory, and Roman and Harper were now a few feet ahead of them. “I feel like we’re on an episode of that show Naked and Afraid. You know, alone on a deserted island, having to find food, water, and shelter. Craft shoes out of whatever we can find. Just need the naked part and—”

  “And you know what Wyatt would say right now if he were here.” Roman stole a look back at Chris.

  “You probably jinxed us,” Harper singsonged, not turning back.

  “Oh, sure. You think we’ll wind up naked? How would that happen?” Chris went on, and this time Harper did look back and swatted the air as if she were hitting his arm.

  “Who knew my words could be so powerful,” Chris joked, catching Rory’s eyes, and she smiled.

  “Says the guy who quotes Nietzsche,” Rory joined in on the humor because why not?

  “He does what?” Roman blurted out, clearly shocked.

  “Not just a pretty boy from Boston,” Chris replied in a smug voice. But Rory knew Chris was so much more than his movie-star looks now that she’d gotten to know him. He’d opened up to her, and if only she’d done the same, maybe they wouldn’t be stranded on this island. “Got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  “Never doubted ya, brother.” Roman slowed at the sound of rushing water.

  “A waterfall?” Rory spoke her thoughts aloud as they continued to what was indeed a waterfall.

  The jump was probably only twenty feet, but at the base of the waterfall was a serene pool of blue water surrounded by greenery. It was tantalizing. And although it was quite warm out, the water would probably be chilly.

  “Here’s our chance to be naked without the afraid part.” Chris pointed to the water. “And maybe my words do carry power.”

  Rory briefly allowed herself to conjure up images of her and Chris. Alone and swimming in the water. Sharing a kiss. Bodies tangled. Making love by the spray of the waterfall. It was a nice distraction from their reality.

  “We don’t have time to turn this day into a vacation.” Harper lifted her chin, motioning to get a move on. As much as Rory would have loved to stall a little before dropping some serious truth bombs on them, Harper was right. They didn’t have time.

  Rory turned toward Chris, whose focus went from her face straight to her chest.

  She looked down to see her nipples on display again. What was she supposed to do, though? She’d pass out from heat exhaustion if she wore that rain jacket while they continued hiking.

  Harper must have felt the same because she’d wrapped hers around her waist. They were in the same nipple-showing boat.

  “When I chose what to wear to the gala, I had no idea we’d be gassed, kidnapped, drugged, tossed on a yacht in the middle of the Atlantic where we had to jump ship and make our way to this no-man’s-land of an island. So, you’ll have to do your best to tuck away your naughty thoughts right now, boys. They’re just boobs. And I am too hot and sweaty to wear the jacket.” Harper flicked her wrist in the universal signal for “drop the subject.”

  Rory forced a laugh instead of allowing herself to drown in a sea of guilt for the laundry list of insanity Harper had mentioned.

  When she peered at Chris, he was focused on her face and staring at her mouth with that intense gleam in his eyes like he needed to steal another kiss. Then suck her nipple like he’d done Friday night before his mouth had traveled down to her center and stolen her breath by giving her the most intense orgasm of her life, which she assumed would be knocked down to second best once he buried himself inside her.

  Chris finally acknowledged Harper’s casual boob comment by rolling his eyes, then started moving again.

  Rory kept her focus on the ground, making sure she didn’t step on an iguana or trip over a boa. The snakes on the island might not be venomous, but she still wasn’t a fan. The last time she came face-to-face with one, she’d been bitten. It hadn’t been venomous either, but it had suffered death by way of a machete. The guys had cooked it for dinner later after her bite had been treated, but she didn’t have the stomach to eat it. “Hate snakes,” she said under her breath. Even if I’ve saved some before. Eek.

  “Finn and I opened a door to a room full of snakes not too long ago. I’m surprised I didn’t have nightmares after that,” Chris said, and his words pushed her heart into her throat.

  El Salvador. Santiago. That wretched man was still on the loose, and was he connected to what happened to them?

  “What’s something else you can’t stand? I mean, aside from snakes and, um, needles,” Rory asked, trying to distract herself from the pain she felt from her makeshift shoes.

  Chris had given her his dress socks, but overall, the padding wasn’t enough to deal with the rough terrain.

  He’d first tried to give her his shoes, too, but they were too big. But no way would she let Chris know she was in a little pain because he’d scoop her into his arms and carry her without a second thought. She already felt bad that he was wearing shoes without socks—the blisters would suck.

  “Wet socks,” both Chris and Roman blurted at the same time, which was basically the last comment she had expected to hear.

  Wet socks. And now Rory understood why they’d both insisted on setting their socks and shoes out to dry for a bit before they started walking earlier.

  “Great minds, brother,” Chris said to Roman.

  “Okay, please tell us, why wet socks?” Of all things you could have picked.

  “BUD/S,” Roman noted as if that was reason enough.

  Chris slowed his pace, eyes moving to Rory’s feet. “One sec. Are you in pain?” He stopped and knelt to examine her feet. “Shit, you’re in pain, aren’t you?” His hand raced from her calf muscle down, and his touch had her remembering his hands roaming her body the other night. She couldn’t seem to stop her naughty thoughts, but since they’d been walking all day without any sign of imminent danger, well, why the hell not let herself fantasize?

  Chris made a few adjustments and added some more padding with leaves, and Roman did the same for Harper.

  “You could have told us,” Roman said in a grumpy-sounding voice. “You don’t need to act tough.”

  “Roger that,” Harper shot back in a feisty tone, her hands continuing to brace his shoulders for balance as Roman fixed her shoes.

  “Thank you,” Rory said softly when Chris rose to stand before her, their eyes meeting in what felt like the perfect-kiss moment, but they had company, so he cleared his throat and turned away.

  “So, wet socks,” Harper said once they were walking again.

  “Squishy,” Chris tossed out.

  “Soggy,” Roman added.

  “And annoying as hell,” Chris continued. “We were always wet at BUD/S. And wearing w
et socks while running drills was a damn nightmare, so we’ll walk a mile out of our way to this day if it means avoiding water and getting our boots and socks wet.”

  “You’re not serious?” Rory asked, and Roman looked back and nodded it was true.

  “Well, I learn something new every day about you boys. And so many things make sense now.” Harper’s tone was light and cheerful, despite the gravity of their situation.

  “About those pirates you mentioned,” Chris began a few minutes later, “were you being serious?”

  Rory thought back to her research on Mona Island. “Back in the day, pirates used to hide on the island to repair their ships, re-energize, and used the site to attack and plunder Spanish galleons.” She lifted her foot to step over a thick, fallen tree, and Chris extended his hand to help ensure she didn’t trip. So chivalrous. He tipped his head and gave her a bow as if he’d heard her thoughts. “The infamous Captain Kidd was hired to hunt pirates and wound up becoming one himself. He was here once as well.” She sorted through her mental notes. “With the rough seas, high swells, and strong current, a lot of ships crashed into the cliffs when they traveled through Mona Passage, and pirates took advantage.”

  “But this was in the past, right?” Chris asked.

  “Smugglers still use this island. Trafficking everything from antiquities to drugs and guns.”

  “Smugglers.” Chris’s thoughts were wandering, his curiosity piqued with that bit of knowledge, she could tell.

  “An uninhabited island makes it the perfect location to transfer products.” This would have been the perfect opening for her to explain why in the heck they’d been kidnapped, but didn’t they need to be sitting for that? Maybe nourished, too?

  “I don’t know why you sound so surprised by this,” Harper commented, her words most likely meant for Chris. “With everything you’ve seen in your work . . .”

  “True,” Chris answered, shooting a quick look at Rory. Curiosity burning in his eyes.