by Karen Anders
When he stepped into the moonlight, Rio saw the gash on his temple better and her heart tumbled over in her chest. “You’re bleeding,” she said, her voice husky.
He looked down at her as she pushed wet hair off his forehead to better see the cut, his bright blue eyes penetrating her soul and making her hurt.
He reached up but she nudged his hand away. “I have a first-aid kit in my backpack. Don’t touch it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, giving her a sideways, amused look.
Rio ignored it. She worked at getting herself and her emotions under control. This was a temporary assignment that had clearly turned into something else—both with Max and Fuentes. She didn’t know what Eduardo Fuentes wanted with her, but she wasn’t going to be bound and gagged and deal with him on his terms. The next time time they met face-to-face, it would be on her terms. That was nonnegotiable.
She unzipped the backpack and pulled out the first-aid kit. She moved back to him with the kit and opened it.
“We’re in deep shit here,” he said quietly.
“I know,” Rio replied, taking a gauze square and soaking it with antiseptic. “I can’t trust anyone, not even local law enforcement. I’m truly on my own.”
He hissed when she pressed the wet pad to his gash. “Damn, that hurts.”
Rio bent forward and blew on it to minimize the sting.
“You’re not alone in this, Rio. I’m here and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She went still on the outside, but inside things were happening. Like her heart hitting her rib cage and her stomach fluttering and her blood taking off in a wild race through her system.
“Max, you should really make your way to the hotel and then get back to L.A. The men after me consider you expendable. I won’t have you dead because of me.” She went to unwrap the butterfly Band-Aid, her hands shaking.
He reached out to grasp her hands, but she stepped back. He took a step closer and she tensed. She tried not to show it, but even that much was really beyond her at this point. The world she lived in made it imperative she make no friends, keep people at a distance. It hurt so much less when they were gone.
“Rio, I know something’s not right.” He spoke softly, but somehow the tone wasn’t the least bit comforting. In fact, it only served to unnerve her further. He saw far too much, far too easily.
“Whether or not that’s the case, I’d prefer to handle my own affairs my own way.” She put a hand out when he took another step. “Just because we were physical a couple of times doesn’t mean I need or want your interference. It’s nothing personal. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, and I like it that way.”
“So I’ve gathered.” He stopped, but didn’t give her an inch.
“I’m not going to change my mind.”
He stood his ground and kept his gaze steady on hers. “Just because you don’t usually need help doesn’t mean you shouldn’t consider accepting some when it’s offered. I’m guessing that doesn’t happen too often.”
“Do you do that?” Her hands settled on her hips. “Accept help?”
His gaze shuttered a bit and she realized she’d said exactly the right thing if she wanted him to ease off. “That’s what I thought. Please, let’s not argue. You should head for the hotel. I’ll lie low and work something out. When you get back to L.A.—”
“I’m not leaving you,” he growled. He took both of her arms then and pulled her closer. His eyes went hard and flinty, and she had to resist the urge to shiver. “The mole hung us out to dry. Us, Rio. They already know who I am.” Gone were those smooth-as-velvet pleasant tones. In their place was a flat, steely voice that brooked no argument. “Maybe it’s not about what you want but about what you need. You need my help.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be taken care of.”
“So you’ve said.” He gentled his hold, tugging her another step closer. “I know it’s hard to accept help from anyone, especially someone you don’t know well. I wouldn’t have thought I’d get caught up in you. Trust me, I know. I never get involved with anyone, on any side, of anything I view as work-related. You took me by surprise.”
“So did you,” she replied, without meaning to, which only caused his gaze to intensify, something she hadn’t thought possible.
“This innate strength you have, your confidence, your ease with yourself and with everyone else. You command attention without demanding it. You command attention just by being you. You certainly have mine.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. As a means of getting her to lower her defenses, she had to admit, it was pretty damned effective. Standing this close, looking into his eyes, she saw no sign of deception, no wavering. He was either very, very good at his job, or he was telling her the absolute truth. She wished the stakes on knowing which it was weren’t so high.
“I’m dead serious about this, Rio. When I take a job, I follow through on it no matter what. The FBI isn’t some alphabet-soup agency to me. I’m loyal and trustworthy to those who earn it.”
“So, this is about the job?”
“It was at first, Rio, but now…No. Not now. You have to admit the strength of the attraction between us isn’t something to be dismissed. I’m certain the way you responded to me isn’t normal for you.”
“No…no, that many orgasms aren’t normal for me.”
The corners of his mouth curved. “Your ability to find even a shred of humor at a time when I know you’re not feeling remotely jovial is another draw.”
And he drew her. It was what she’d been trying to put into place since he’d walked into the conference room that day. She’d tried to pass it off as a physical thing, a chemistry thing…but it was much more than that. Or she’d have never let him put his hands on her.
“I think nothing gets by you, not even me. Especially not me. You pull no punches, and take no bullshit,” he said.
She fought the urge to smile then. How did he do that? Her carefully constructed life was literally falling to pieces…and he was making her smile. Like she had nothing better to do than stand here and flirt. Only this wasn’t about flirting. This was about survival.
“How have I earned either of those things from you? You know nothing of what might be going on with me.”
“Call it gut instinct.” He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then very lightly ran his fingertip along her cheekbone and down along her chin.
The brief contact made her so aware of him. He talked about commanding attention. He had no idea.
“You and me are in this together, and together we’re going to get out of it. Now let’s find some cover,” Max said.
“Let me put this on your gash first.”
His skin felt warm when she applied the bandage and guilt hit her with the force of a kick to the solar plexus. She still hadn’t told him the truth about the men who were after her. For now, their escape would have to take precedence. She’d worry about what to tell Max when they were safe.
Rio started forward and she and Max moved into the thick undergrowth. She breathed a sigh of relief once they got into the dark interior.
“So, we’re in the Ko’olau Forest Preserve,” Rio said, looking around at the lush surroundings.
“I think so. Farther in it’s closed to the public, so it’s pretty much deserted. Even if we made it back to Hana, there’s not much there except a small town, and a hotel. We’re not going to get anywhere near that tiny airport, even if we could get a flight off Maui.”
“They’re coming after us. I guarantee it. And they’re going to be watching all the airports, too.”
“And we can’t call the FBI or the DEA for fear the mole will be listening in. We’re really on our own.”
She tugged at her wet dress. “I need to change.”
“You have dry clothes in that bag?” Max asked hopefully.
“Yes, I do for both of us. I don’t leave anything to chance. And I don’t intend to go traips
ing through the jungle in a delicate dress and sandals.”
“I think I’m going to start calling you Mary Poppins.”
“Hey, no joking about my flee bag. Besides, Mary would be good in a fight. She had that umbrella and that spit spot take-no-prisoners attitude.”
“Do you have weapons in that bag? I don’t mean an umbrella.”
“Ha, ye of little faith. Of course I have weapons. Glock—never leave home without it.”
“Where exactly are we?”
“Wait, I have a map of Maui.”
“Damn, you really are prepared.”
“Hey, I’ve been in tougher jams without all these fun toys and accessories, so when I get a chance to put together some gear, I don’t skimp.”
She really should make her way on her own. Max could make it to Hana, get off the island and back to the FBI. At least they would know she was in danger. Max must have someone he could trust at the agency.
“You really are some field agent, Rio.”
Her gaze rocketed over his face. It was a telling moment for her. They’d managed this far with someone on their tail, but the thought of separating from him felt like betrayal. She was up to the challenge of playing hide-and-go-seek with Fuentes’s men. She was scared for Max, but she shouldn’t be. He was an agent. He’d had training just as she’d had, yet so had Shane and he was dead.
“Nothing better happen to you, Max.”
Max offered a comforting smile as he captured the back of her head, drawing her nearer. She went eagerly. His mouth covered hers, a brief, hot slide of lips and tongue speared a stab of desire through her, and she clung to him, forgetting the danger and drinking in his kiss. Damn they were good at this, she thought, and she wanted the chance for more—without guns blazing around them and the threat of Fuentes. He drew back, met her gaze, then kissed her again so tenderly it made her throat tighten.
“I can handle myself, Rio. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll worry until we’re out of this and we’re both safe.” She pulled the clothes out of the pack, along with soap and a towel.
“That waterfall will make a nice shower.” Max turned to look at the rushing water.
“Do you think we have time for the luxury?” Rio’s skin had started to itch from the salt water and the flight through the forest.
“Sure. I think they’ll be back full force at early light, but they’re not going to crash around in the jungle looking for us in the dark. They have us over a barrel since we’re on an island. No way off without using public transportation.”
“Let’s clean up, then, rest and get going an hour before dawn.” Rio rose and slipped the straps of the dress off her shoulders. Max’s eyes focused on her like bright blue beams in the night.
“That’s a good plan.” He licked his lips and stood. “Need help with your dress?”
“I’ve been dressing and undressing myself for years, Max. Hmm, ever since I was six or so.” Giving him a sly smile, Rio slipped off her dress, revealing the white lace see-through bra and underwear she wore beneath. She bent over to pull off the once pretty, but now ruined white sandals.
“Damn. You’re bleeding,” he said. When she looked at him, he gestured to her calf.
She looked and saw blood on her leg.
Max was there, opening the kit and applying the alcohol-soaked gauze that stung and made her eyes water. She hissed in a breath and let it out slowly. “Sorry,” he said, looking up at her.
His fingers were so gentle and warm that shockingly, she felt her eyes sting.
Max Carpenter shook her foundations. And she didn’t know what to do about that. What she did know was Max was the last person she’d ever reveal that to. He already had a way of looking at her, into her, as if he saw far past her defenses, to some other place she was unaccustomed to people reaching. And that was without her letting him in.
She felt a fine trembling begin in her fingers and start to spread. She needed to find a way to deal with him and succeed in the task at hand without either one of them clouding their thinking further. They couldn’t afford to drop their guard. Yeah, right. Tell that to the pulsing, demanding ache that blossomed as soon as he latched those laser beam eyes on her. So move on as if it’s business as usual, she told herself.
Rio reached down into the pack and pulled out a lethal Glock. She cocked the gun, snapping a bullet into the chamber.
“Expecting problems? Like primates?”
“Primates? Do you think there are any around here?”
“The only primate you have to be concerned with, Rio, is me.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Sounds like monkey business to me.”
6
MAX THOUGHT THERE WAS nothing sexier than Rio standing there in her revealing underwear, holding a very powerful weapon.
“You look pretty good right now. Nothing at all like Mary Poppins.”
“Hey, don’t go looking for any more trouble.”
He met her gaze, loving the dare in her eyes. “You’ve fulfilled one fantasy.”
“Me, in my underwear, holding a handgun? This turns you on?” she asked, arching a tapered brow.
“Yeah.”
She snorted. “Men. Can’t live with them. Can’t shoot them.”
“Can’t you think of something better to do with me—to me—than shoot me?” he asked, sidling up to her.
“You’re a bad special agent, Max Carpenter.”
“To the bone.”
Reaching down, she cupped him through his jeans. “And a nice one it is. Better yet, you know what to do with it.”
“You don’t have to fire me up.” Then he leaned in and whispered, “I didn’t forget how easy it was to slide into you.” Rio moaned and he turned her face to his.
His words didn’t stop there. “And the way you taste.” He trailed his tongue down her throat. Her head dropped back. “Everything,” he said darkly and scraped his teeth over her skin, then took her mouth only to find her taking him in the same heavy way.
Her chuckle was sultry, so feminine it slid over his skin like heated satin.
“Let me put the safety on this weapon,” she said before setting it and placing the gun on top of her pack.
“Oh, good. You’re talking about the gun.”
Her hands moved down his chest and closed over the bulge in his jeans. “Oh, is that a gun? Or are you just happy to see me?”
He nipped at the curve of her shoulder, her collarbone, his hand sliding over her waist, holding her tight lace-clad bottom in his hands.
Kneading, he pulled her hips flush with his.
“Max, you feel so good.”
“Wait until I’m inside you, pressed to the hilt.”
“Ooooh, I like a confident man.” Her eyes danced.
She left him no choice and he kissed her again.
Her laughter transformed into a series of soft gasps as she let him take her. He was beyond thinking about what was smart, and what was supremely stupid. He’d wanted her from the moment he saw her. And, right that very moment, she wanted him back. That was all that mattered.
“Waterfall,” she managed to say. “We’re on borrowed time.”
“Not sure I can walk that far,” he said. “Or that I’ll ever get these wet jeans off.”
“I have a knife,” she said, a bit breathless.
He looked down into her eyes, his whole body stiffening in erotic tension. The way she looked up at him made his jeans just that much tighter. At this rate, her cutting him out of his jeans was a sacrifice he was willing to make. “You’re not helping with talk like that.”
“Max…”
His grin was a quick flash. “I shouldn’t like it when you say my name like that. But I do.” The grin widened when she looked as if she might shoot him.
Instead, she gripped his loud shirt in both fists and dragged him closer to the falls. A tepid mist coated them, sending droplets running down their skin in little rivulets.
He worked her bra off in one eff
ort and Max sighed in appreciation.
“I know what you’re thinking. You might as well say it.”
He met her gaze. “Nice rack.”
She laughed to herself, shaking her head. “I take it you’re a rack kind of guy.”
“I am. Yes, I am.”
“You just going to look?” She brought his hands to her breasts and the instant he cupped her, wild sensations started coiling out of control. She moaned his name, covering his hands as he massaged her breasts. She leaned back, offering herself, and he loved the breathless sound she made when his lips closed over her nipple.
He worried the tight, hard peaks, then took one deep into his mouth, the hot pull of fire driving a bolt of heat to his groin.
His hands spanned her rib cage, pulled her down to the mossy bank. He slipped off her lacy underwear until she was completely naked like a forest nymph.
“Another erotic fantasy.”
“What?” she asked, laughter in her voice. “A naked woman with a nice rack?”
“Yeah. Is that wrong?”
“You are too much.” Her mouth played over his, her tongue laving. He mapped the curve of her behind, his stomach flexing when she opened his jeans, working them down with quite an effort. Then she started on the buttons of his shirt. When she got them undone and pushed it open, he dragged her into his arms, his mouth devouring hers until kisses weren’t enough.
They’d never be, Max thought, and sampled the underside of her breast, slick with the moisture from the rushing falls, cascading only a few steps from where they lay. His teeth raked her, his lips closing over her nipple again. She arched into him, her fingers sliding into his hair, holding him right there.
“This is so…amazing.”
“You are amazing,” he whispered, dragging his tongue down the taut line of her stomach. Her hands went to his shoulders, heat rolling off them. He was surprised they didn’t make steam.
He met her gaze and felt shattered, and when she reached between them, he stopped her, catching her hands.
“That could go off prematurely,” he said with an indrawn breath. “I want to make sure I hit the target first.”
