by Cindy Dees
“Still here?” he growled. “I thought you’d be on your way home to D.C. by now.”
She scowled back at him. “I don’t happen to know which way it is to Washington or I would have been gone already.”
He pointed over his shoulder toward the cliff. “North’s that way.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He turned and walked away from her quickly. He glanced up once at the cliff, as though taking a bearing, and veered off into the brush.
“Where are you going?” she called after him.
“To search the guy I shot.”
She made a face of distaste, but morbid curiosity propelled her after him. She pulled up short when she burst into a clearing. Tex was kneeling over the body of the Gavronese soldier, going through the guy’s pockets. The sight turned her stomach. There was something really wrong about touching a dead person.
“Bingo!”
She jumped at Tex’s sharp exclamation. He held up a flat, black object. It looked like a cell phone.
A rustle sounded in the bush close by. Tex threw her the phone and whirled, the AK-47 coming up into a ready position in his hands, almost as if by magic.
“Make the call,” Tex ordered tersely over his shoulder as he plunged into the brush toward the noise.
Frantically she dialed the phone number he’d made her memorize. Static filled her ear. Please, please, please, let this thing work out here in the middle of nowhere.
A faint ring sounded. God bless communications satellites!
“Identify yourself,” a man barked in her ear.
She jumped at the sharp command. “My name is Kimberly Stanton. Tex Monroe gave me this phone number.”
“Jesus! Stand by.” There was the tiniest pause and a clicking noise. “You’re on speaker phone. Go ahead with your location.”
“Uh, I don’t know. Tex thinks we’re in Gavarone. We’ve been walking north for three days.”
“Say your status,” a deep voice cut in.
“My status? Uh, we’re both fine. Although soldiers—rebels—wearing red berets have been chasing us.”
“You’ve escaped your kidnappers, then?” the deep voice asked.
“Yes. Tex did that right after he woke up. He freed us before I regained consciousness.”
“Stay on the line, ma’am. We’re attempting to locate your signal as we spea—”
A burst of static filled her ear.
“…old model…no triangulation. Still there, Miss Stanton?” the deep voice asked urgently.
“Yes.”
“Can you put Captain Monroe on the line?”
“He’s not here. He heard someone in the brush and went after him. We got this phone off a dead guy—”
She waited out another burst of static.
“…and Tex threw it at me and said to call you.”
“Did he ask for any support?”
“No, he said there’d be some problems sending any help for us into Gavarone.” She hesitated. “Something important has happened that I think he’d want you to know about. Can I say something classified, at least I think it’s classified, over this line?”
Surprise resonated in the deep voice. “This is Blackjacks Ops, and I’m Lt. Colonel Foley, commanding officer of the Blackjacks. Anything he said to you, you can say to me. Your phone line isn’t secure, but under the circumstances I’m willing to take the risk. Go ahead.”
“Tex thinks I wasn’t the target of the kidnapping. The RITA rifle he had with him was. When the rebels caught up with us this morning, Tex dropped the rifle. They took it and left, even though they had us cornered.”
A long silence greeted that announcement.
“Are you still there, Colonel Foley?” she asked in dismay.
“Yes, ma’am. Did Tex say what his intentions are?”
“He said he’s going after the gun to get it back. He said he thought the U.S. government couldn’t send in Marines after the gun, and he didn’t think the Blackjacks could get here in time.”
“If you’re in Gavarone, Miss Stanton, we can be there in twelve hours. But we need an exact location on you. Do you have any idea where you are? Have you passed any distinguishing landmarks in the last few days?”
“No. Just tons of jungle. We crossed a little stream yesterday afternoon that flows to the north. I’m standing in front of a really big granite cliff. It’s part of a box canyon the rebels used to trap us. The cliff wall faces south.”
“How big’s the canyon?” the lieutenant colonel asked.
“It took us over an hour to run the length of it, I think.”
“Anything else, Miss Stanton?”
She racked her brains but couldn’t think of a thing to help. The static was getting worse.
She barely made out Colonel Foley’s voice as he said, “Tell Tex we’ll be in theater tonight. As soon as he can get us a position fix, we’re coming in to provide support to him and pull you out. Tell him to get the gun back…”
She couldn’t make out any more. A beeping sounded in her ear. The connection had been lost.
She stared glumly at the phone.
How could Tex’s own commander send him on a suicide mission like this? What was it about soldiers that made them all believe they were superheroes? Didn’t the colonel realize the odds they were up against out here? How could this Foley guy set Tex up to fail, or even die, like that?
Was this what had happened to her father? Had he sold his own heroic persona to his superiors so well that they demanded too much of him? Had he broken himself on the rocky cliffs of their expectations?
And then something rustled in the brush behind her. She looked frantically in both directions and dived under the nearest bush.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Dammit, Kimberly. Where are you?” Tex called low. He didn’t have time to play these games with her. A second’s panic hit him. What if she had called his bluff and walked off into the jungle by herself? He moved quickly toward her last position to commence tracking her.
He let out a relieved huff when she crawled sheepishly out from under a bush.
“I thought you were the rebels,” she confessed.
He shook his head in disgust. “They’re long gone, the bastards.”
“So what was that noise?”
“A jaguar. Probably smelled the blood from the dead guy and came to investigate.”
She glanced around in consternation. “There are jaguars out here?”
“Yeah. Not many, but they’re here, all right.”
She shuddered visibly. “Now what?”
“Now we track down the rifle. Any luck with the phone?” he asked.
“Yes. I talked to a Colonel Foley.”
Just hearing his commander’s name made him feel better. He and Kimberly were overdue for a good break. Eagerly he asked, “What’d he say?”
“He said he’d position the team in theater by tonight. As soon as you get an exact position fix, contact him with it.”
Disappointment coursed through Tex. “He couldn’t locate us from the cell phone?”
Kimberly shook her head. “He said something about it not having a triangulation capability.”
“Too bad. Did he have any instructions for me?”
She answered reluctantly. “He said you’re to go after the rifle and get it back. As soon as we figure out where we are, he’ll send in some guys to pick me up and help you.”
Tex nodded grimly. Just as he’d thought. Getting that gun back was a top priority. At least he still had the clip. It would take the rebels a couple days and a good weapon smith to fashion a new clip for it. He had to stop the rifle from falling into the wrong hands. The hands of people who’d take it apart and learn how to duplicate its amazing technology.
He glanced at his stolen watch. “It’s about noon. We’ve still got plenty of daylight left to track the rebels.”
“Wonderful,” Kimberly rumbled under her breath.
“Let’s see if we can lift anything else
useful off the dead guy’s body.”
Kimberly grimaced.
He didn’t particularly enjoy poking through a dead man’s pockets, either, but anything they looted could be useful.
Flies were starting to buzz around the corpse as they approached it. It didn’t take long for Mother Nature to claim back her own out here. With a shudder of horror, Kimberly stood well back and let him do the honors.
She was authorized to be grossed out. She’d held up shockingly well through the morning, first on that long run and later climbing the cliff. He’d never have guessed a spoiled little rich girl like her could gut it out like that.
Methodically he stripped and searched the corpse. He took off the guy’s camouflage fatigue shirt. Too small for him, but it would work for Kimberly. A cigarette lighter. Half a pack of smokes.
“This guy’s carrying Gavronese cigarettes,” he commented.
“Great! At least we know what country we’re in now,” she responded dryly. “Now if only we knew where in it we were.”
He grinned at her sarcasm. “It’s a dinky little place. We’re bound to run into someplace I recognize sooner or later.”
“You’ve spent a lot of time here?”
He grunted. “That’s putting it mildly. This place is about to erupt into full-scale civil war, and the U.S. government has had us down here watching events unfold on and off for months, now.”
“Sounds like fun,” she commented.
He shrugged. “Depends on your definition of fun. Personally, I’m not a huge fan of jungles.” He got back to work. The dead soldier had a utility belt. Tex unbuckled the wide webbing and pulled it from underneath the guy. He started opening its pockets.
“Jackpot!” he exclaimed.
“What?” Kimberly stepped closer.
He held up a tiny brown glass bottle, not much bigger than his thumb for her to see. “Water purification tablets.”
“Hallelujah.” Kimberly sighed in relief.
“He’s got a canteen, too. We can fill it and have a little to drink between water sources.” The guy had all sorts of useful bits and pieces in the belt’s half-dozen compartments. Knife sharpener, compass, needles, fish hooks, hell, even condoms. He stuffed those back into their pouch hastily.
Kimberly’s mouth curved into a beautiful smile that warmed him from the inside out. “Who’d have thought I’d be so thrilled with a canteen and a bottle of purification pills a few days ago?” she asked, shaking her head and sending her mud-caked hair rattling like a pile of bones.
He gazed up at her. Even coated in mud and grass, she was beautiful. Her bones, the shape of her face, were exquisite, and the bright green of her eyes matched the jungle around them.
“Survival scenarios have a way of stripping everything down to the bare essentials.”
She stared back at him. Something electric sprang up between them, pulling him slowly to his feet. “They do, don’t they?” she murmured.
He’d never thought much further than food, water, and shelter before on a survival trek. But abruptly, a need to kiss her became absolutely necessary to his long-term survival. He stepped forward slowly. He didn’t care if her clothes were brittle with dried mud, if her face was coated in the stuff, if he couldn’t get his hands into her hair, let alone run his fingers through it. He needed this woman.
She moaned as his arms came around her. Their mouths met and they melted into one. One body. One soul.
Her hands skimmed up his ribs under his shirt, sliding around his back to pull him closer. “I was so scared this morning,” she murmured, her breath a warm caress on his lips.
“But you fought through it,” he murmured back.
Her lips softened and molded to his, cutting off any further conversation. He felt the aftermath of her desperation coursing through her, a wildness that reached out to him and called forth his most basic responses.
He slanted his head, his tongue slashing past any resistance she offered, plundering her mouth with reckless abandon. The way her breath caught in her throat drove him wild, and he could think of nothing but having her, all of her, right now. Nobody was chasing them. They could afford to steal a moment for themselves.
She arched into him, her body strung as tight with need as his.
“Please, Tex,” she murmured. “Take me away from here.”
Her words registered as love talk. “Together,” he mumbled back against her lips. “We’ll fly all the way home.”
His hands fumbled at her sweater, pushing it up toward her neck.
“You’ll take me out of the jungle now?” she asked hopefully. “Home?”
He froze in the act of lifting her sweater off of her.
“Not until we’ve got the rifle back,” he mumbled. His brain felt dull, like an unsharpened knife.
She pulled back, looking up at him keenly. “I want to go home.”
“So do I. But what does that have to do with what we’re doing right now?” Come on, brain. Get in gear, here!
She stepped completely away from him and yanked her sweater down. “Fine. Let’s go get the damned gun so we can get out of this hellhole.”
“Fine,” he shot back.
She glared hotly at him. He glared back.
He shoved the dead man’s fatigue shirt at her. “Put this on. It’ll fit you better than the shirt you have now. Besides, it’s not caked in mud.”
She stared at the dean man’s shirt in loathing. And sighed. “No, it’s just bloody.”
She reached for it in resignation and slipped it on.
He buckled the dead guy’s utility belt around his waist, stuffed everything he’d found into its pockets, and moved off in the direction of the retreating tracks from the rebels.
He didn’t immediately hear Kimberly’s footsteps behind him. That was just peachy with him. If she wanted to throw a tantrum and sulk at the foot of that cliff til she rotted, that was her choice.
A swish of leaves behind him told him Kimberly had caught up. The insidious relief that stole through him startled him. Rather than examine it, he picked up the pace and continued on.
The rebels were moving as a group and not bothering to hide their tracks. It was an easy thing to follow the trail of fifty men barging through the jungle. Their machetes cleared what felt like a veritable road through the brush. He and Kimberly made excellent time.
They’d walked for two or three sullen hours when a distant sound made him pause and take note. A grin split his face.
“What?” Kimberly snapped irritably.
“I think I hear something you’re going to like.”
“A taxi cab that’ll take me to Washington?”
“Better.”
She tugged on his shirt till he actually had to stop. He turned to face her. “What is it?” she demanded.
“Let’s go find out if I’m right,” he said imperturbably. He didn’t want to get her hopes up and then disappoint her if he was wrong.
They walked another couple minutes and the sound grew into a steady roar. He pushed forward and even began to smell it. When he could feel it on his skin, they finally broke out into a large clearing. Before them stretched a pool of water, maybe a hundred feet across. A small waterfall cascaded down the side of a large outcropping on the far side of the pond.
Its crashing sound was what he’d been hearing all this time. It wasn’t a gigantic waterfall, but it was plenty big enough to pound all the mud off them and out of their clothes.
He stepped aside so Kimberly could see. “Can I interest you in a bath?” he asked.
She squealed with delight and rushed forward. Then she stopped abruptly. “Are there leeches in there?”
He squatted down and stuck his hand briefly in the water. “Nah, it’s too cold for them.”
“Are you sure?” she asked dubiously.
“Positive. Of course, it’s going to make for a wicked chilly bath.”
“Can we afford the time?” she asked.
“Yeah. We’re moving fast, a
nd I don’t want to run up on their heels before dark. We’ve got maybe an hour to get clean,” he replied.
Kimberly was already tearing off her filthy clothes. She stopped when she got to her lacy pink bra and matching bikini panties.
He gulped at all those slim, tempting, female curves. Hot damn, but she had a great body. He drank in the sight of her thirstily. Her legs were just right. Slender, but muscular, like a dancer’s. He felt his body getting all hot and bothered at the thought of those sleek thighs wrapped around his waist.
Kimberly stepped forward, dipping a toe in the water. She looked like some fey forest creature as a shaft of sunlight fell upon her form.
With a gasp, Kimberly eased into the water. “Oh, my gosh, it’s like ice water!” she exclaimed.
Tex shrugged out of his shirt and pants and stepped forward. The second her gaze landed on him, he felt its heat on his skin like a laser beam.
He didn’t think often about how he looked. He usually measured his body in terms of how strong or fit it was. But for once he was glad for the bulging muscles, the flat stomach, and lean hips.
Her gaze devoured him. He walked toward her, as mesmerized by her as she seemed to be by him. She’d waded out waist-deep into the pool, only a few yards from the shore. The bottom must drop away pretty steeply.
He took a running step and leapt away from the bank in a shallow dive. He knifed into the water only a few feet from Kimberly.
The frigid water blasted him back painfully to the present. Wow, that was cold! He shivered through the first shock of it and surfaced, shaking the water out of his hair. The bottom was rocky but not jagged. He stood up.
Kimberly’s nipples were tight little buds beneath her bra, which clung to her almost more revealingly than being completely naked. His hands ached to cup the soft mounds, to tease the heat back into her breasts, to tighten her nipples once more for an altogether different reason.
Kimberly ducked under the water and a pool of light brown floated to the surface around her. The mud coming off her. He dunked himself and scrubbed the mud off his body.
He didn’t usually worry much about cleanliness in the field. He took it when he could get it, and he didn’t sweat it when he couldn’t. But today, bathing beside Kimberly, he felt every inch of her relief as she washed herself. His own skin suddenly itched with a burning need to be squeaky clean.
