Last Spy Standing

by Dana Marton

  He mastered her mouth the way he mastered everything else. Hesitation wasn’t part of the man, in this situation or in any other. His kiss wasn’t anything like the unwanted advances of the other men in camp. They’d left her cold and annoyed. She’d left them with a black eye, or worse.

  Now desire hit her like a sudden jungle storm and had her drenched in need. Mitch’s body, pressed so tightly against her, felt like pure, primal power. It was overwhelming, but being overwhelmed by pleasure didn’t seem an altogether bad thing.

  “Megan.” His voice, raw with desire, got under her skin, coursed through her veins and turned up the heat.

  She opened her mouth to him and he deepened the kiss with a low groan that rumbled up his chest and fed straight into her. His lips and tongue possessed hers, conquering her until she was limp, then gently caressing her until she felt her body might fly apart with need.

  She couldn’t remember the last time, any time, when she’d let her defenses down so completely, had trusted her partner so fully, without reservations. Where had those gone? She’d had plenty of them when they’d first met.

  She liked the guy, liked his intelligent chestnut eyes. He was quick and sometimes funny. He was competent. He had principles that ruled his actions. She felt safe with him, which was ridiculous. They weren’t more than temporary partners, their goals still mutually exclusive.

  They needed to talk about that. Once her brain got back to work. For now, she let him kiss her to his heart’s content and hers.

  But soon things went beyond that. She needed him to kiss her.

  Then she needed to kiss him back.

  Then she needed to touch him. That was his fault. He shouldn’t have been half-naked.

  His skin was warm and wet, and her palms glided over his impressive muscles. The nerve endings in her fingertips were singing an ode to joy from the contact.

  His hands moved to the underside of her knees and lifted her up in one sure motion, pushing her back against the wall, and wrapping her legs around his waist. His need was unmistakable and gratifying.

  She lost her breath when his hardness pressed against her core. A slow ache began somewhere inside her. Her hands caressed his wide shoulders, then moved up to dig into his wiry hair.

  Nothing had felt this good in a long time. He didn’t try to dominate her, but she knew neither would he yield. They shared some sort of a connection that was undeniable. Maybe because he was the only person in a hundred-mile radius who knew the truth about her, the only one she might be able to trust.

  Her breath hitched when he carried her away from the wall and tumbled her into the hammock, which swung precariously in response. A surprised squeak escaped her lips.

  “Is this going to work?” She looked up once she tore her lips from his. Could those hooks hold both of them? “I don’t think—”

  “Watch me.” He slipped in adroitly next to her.

  The material stretched to accommodate him. For about a second, she was conscious of their perilous position, but then his hand snuck under her tank top. And once his long fingers began massaging their way up her rib cage, she wouldn’t have noticed if they crashed to the ground and the roof caved in after them.

  She had no idea how he divested her of her light shirt so quickly or how he peeled her out of that tank top, but he did. Then he shifted her so she lay on top of him, her breasts pressing against his bare chest. She’d given up wearing bras a few months back and now was glad for it. The tight straps and the underwire were a nuisance in this heat and humidity. And now…

  Now she’d found another advantage.

  He gave a sound of primal satisfaction when her nipples rubbed against his chest.

  Pleasure zigzagged through her in response. Wow. Double wow. Nobody had ever made her feel like this. Not Vincent, for sure. So unfair that she would have this with someone she shouldn’t be anywhere near, someone she might never see again after this night.

  But maybe it was better that way. Her circuits were melting, her fuses blowing. Mitch was simply too overwhelming. She’d never have full control of her life with a man like him in it.

  He caught her lower lip between his teeth and nipped, then trailed kisses down her neck. Then he pushed her higher, until the soft, wet heat of his mouth could envelop her nipple.

  Sure, she’d missed a man’s hands on her body. But right now she felt as if it had been Mitch’s hands, specifically, that she’d missed all along. A crazy thought.

  Her back arched. Her brain stopped functioning.

  More heat built inside her with every tug of his lips, with every touch. Her hands explored his hard chest, the rippled muscles of his abdomen. He was built as perfectly as a man could be built. She hesitated at his belt buckle.

  His hands slid down to cup her bottom and press her more tightly against him. He rocked under her. She held on to his hip, trying not to moan too loudly. No sense in alerting the night guard or waking Zak up. Thank God, the rain provided them with some cover.

  “Don’t think. Feel.” His raspy whisper skittered along her nerve endings.

  When his mouth switched to the other nipple, she felt the tug between her legs. He moved under her with just the right rhythm. Pressure built. She was going to heaven, but couldn’t reach it. Not yet.

  He shifted them carefully, pinning her underneath him, and pulled down her cargo pants so his clever fingers could reach the spot where she ached the most. He kissed her deeply and thoroughly as his fingers found a breath-stealing rhythm.

  Now. She went for his belt buckle, and fumbled. Her muscles weren’t exactly obeying her every command. They were quivering.

  Then she couldn’t move at all. Those quivering muscles contracted suddenly, held at the edge of the precipice, then tumbled over it as pleasure pulsed through her body in towering waves.

  She clung to Mitch’s hard body, breathing in hoarse gasps, moaning his name.

  Long minutes passed before the ripples quieted. She was beyond sated. Dazed. So it made no sense that she would want more of him, but she did. Deep inside her.

  She shifted to wrap her legs around his slim hips. “Take off your pants.” Her voice was a breathless whisper she barely recognized.

  “We don’t have protection.” His words came out in a strangled tone.

  She blinked. How could she forget that? She’d never forgotten that before, not ever.

  “Then let me.” She moved to slip her hand under his waistband.

  At the same time, they heard Zak groaning on the other side of the wall.

  Mitch moved to the side, pulled her next to him and gathered her in his arms. “You’re heading out in a couple of hours for a long trek. Rest.”

  “But—”

  “We’ll add it to your tab.” He smiled at her in the semidarkness. “Someday, somewhere, I’m going to show up in your life and collect.”

  Suddenly that seemed like a wonderful idea. She kept her hand on his abdomen and rested her head on his shoulder. Idiotically happy, she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, her body still buzzing with pleasure.

  When she fell asleep, her dreams were all about him. Erotic, every single one of them.

  Waking in his arms was incredibly nice after all those lonely mornings. And she’d been lonely here, despite all the people in camp. She hadn’t made any true connections. For someone who grew up in a family with nine kids, the isolation was pretty difficult to bear. Not that she wouldn’t endure much more to save her brother.

  Thinking of Billy woke her up the rest of the way, and she felt guilty for indulging in a night of pleasure when her brother was suffering in Don Pedro’s dungeons somewhere.

  Outside, she heard the team getting ready for the trip. Jeeps were being loaded, four-wheelers roared.

  “Time for me to go,” she whispered. She needed to refocus, needed distance.

  Mitch stirred and pressed against her, his body in the same hard state it’d been when they’d fallen asleep. Maybe he’d been bitten by a ba
nana spider after all.

  That reminded her of Zak wanting to see one. Which reminded her of the rest of the news she hadn’t had a chance to tell Mitch.

  His warm hand moved up to cup her breast. She placed her own hand on top to still him. If he began to touch her again, they’d never get out of the hammock.

  “The guy Zak shot wasn’t just Juarez’s brother-in-law,” she gasped—she was having difficulty breathing as his fingers brushed against her nipple.

  Mitch withdrew his hand silently and listened.

  “Enrique was also Don Pedro’s half brother.” It was much easier to talk this way, even if she did miss his touch. “Juarez is under orders to deliver Zak to the Don. The kid is coming with us.”

  He shoved himself out of the hammock, setting it swinging perilously, and looked at her through narrowed eyes, his demeanor growing colder by the second.

  “This is what last night was about.” His voice was rigid steel.

  The connection that had built between them overnight disappeared. He seemed a thousand miles away. Unreachable.

  A sinking feeling spread through her stomach.

  “You made sure I didn’t go out so I wouldn’t hear the news myself. Made sure I was busy so I couldn’t break the kid out before you all left in the morning.” His chestnut eyes held disappointment and distaste, as if a snake he’d thought harmless had suddenly bitten him.

  Denial surged to her lips. “No. Mitch—”

  He dragged on his shirt and was out the door the next second, moving as if he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  Chapter Eight

  Mitch strode through camp, doing his best to forget the way Megan had come apart in his arms during the night, and denying the fact that every cell in his body still wanted her. He searched for Juarez, but when he found the man, he didn’t approach him. Instead, he ambled over to a Jeep nearby where Umberto was struggling with a large crate of supplies.

  “You need help?” he offered.

  The older man watched him for a long second. Umberto obviously had seen a thing or two and had better instincts about people than most. He hadn’t gotten drunk the night before with the others, hadn’t participated in any of the fights that later ensued. He shrugged at last. “Sure. Bueno.”

  So Mitch picked up the nearest bag and tossed it in the back of the Jeep, making sure Juarez saw him. “Has the infamous Paolo returned?” he asked after a few minutes, not bothering to keep his voice down. “Yesterday I heard talk of his legendary shooting skills. Maybe he and I could have a friendly contest someday.”

  Umberto shook his head. “He’s a tough one. If he ain’t back, there’s a reason.” Again, his gaze stayed on Mitch longer than necessary.

  From the corner of his eye, Mitch saw Juarez catch their conversation and frown. The boss barked a few quick questions at the man standing next to him. Mitch couldn’t hear the low-voiced response, but it seemed scared and apologetic.

  He hoisted a crate into the car. Umberto put the jugs of water in place. Between the two of them, the Jeep was packed in ten minutes.

  “Gracias,” Umberto said as he patted down the bags and jiggled things into place, making sure they were secure.

  “De nada, amigo.”

  Mitch walked back toward his shack, helping whoever he could on the way without making a big deal of it. Megan was gone by the time he reached his quarters. No surprise there.

  He could still smell her shampoo. And he could see her glorious breasts rising above him as she’d straddled him in the hammock. His body grew hard all over again.

  He swore under his breath and put the memories of the night out of his mind. She’d fooled him again, plain and simple. “But this will be the last time,” he swore.

  He grabbed his backpack, shoved his handgun into the back of his waistband and left the shed. He checked on Zak through the gaps in the wall. The kid was drinking water through the bamboo straw he’d made him last night.

  “You all right?”

  “I’ll see to it that my father makes you pay for this,” Zak hissed through his lips, barely moving his swollen jaw.

  He couldn’t argue. He’d messed up the moment Megan had walked into that clearing at the river and he’d allowed her to join them. Mitch shook his head and moved on, making sure to pass by Juarez and his men again. He knew one thing only. There was no room for any more mistakes on this mission.

  “Adios, then,” he called out to Umberto. “Have a good trip.”

  “Where are you going?” Umberto asked obligingly.

  “Thought I’d hunt a little while you guys are gone.” He kept walking, but called over his shoulder. “A camp the size of this one can always use more meat.” Hopefully, that would remind them of his shooting skills the night before.

  He strode toward the woods. He was almost at the edges of the camp, about to melt into the jungle when a shout rang out.

  “Alto!” Stop.

  He took two more steps as if not realizing the call was for him.

  “Alto! Alto!” One of Juarez’s men was running after him.

  “What is it?” He turned then, obligingly.

  “The boss wants you to come with us. We’re shorthanded without Paolo.”

  “How long a trip? I just got in. Wouldn’t mind taking a few days break here in camp.”

  “You only come to the first drop-off. You guard the goods there and wait for the pickup. You can rest until we come by to get you on the way back.”

  So the crates and bags in the Jeeps didn’t all go to Don Pedro. There’d be some sort of a drop-off of illegal goods in the jungle.

  He wasn’t trusted enough to be taken all the way to the big boss. Fine. The important thing was, he’d keep sight of Zak for a while longer. They were taking him part of the way, which was better than sneaking after them and trying to track them unseen. If he couldn’t get Zak away before that drop-off, Mitch would figure something out so they’d take him farther.

  He caught Juarez watching him from a distance, so he made sure he wasn’t overenthusiastic as he accepted. The man who’d been sent after him clapped him on the shoulder with a grin anyway.

  Mitch didn’t return it. He was all business, every bit the mercenary he claimed to be. “So who do I talk to about pay?”

  SHE DIDN’T KNOW if she should be impressed or consternated.

  She was a CIA agent—she didn’t get frustrated easily, Megan reminded herself. Trouble was, that left impressed, and she didn’t want to be impressed by Mitch.

  Bad enough that she’d been thoroughly seduced by him. While on an undercover op in the middle of an enemy camp. There had to be a whole manual full of rules against that somewhere. Not that she wasn’t breaking all the rules already by secretly working to free her brother.

  The two Jeeps followed each other closely on the narrow, bumpy road, followed by three ATVs. It was much easier than going on foot, even if the logging road was no more than a collection of potholes in the muddy soil. She was afraid that by the time they reached their destination, the journey might shake her teeth loose.

  Mitch was avoiding her on purpose. He’d chosen to ride in the other car, and he never came anywhere near her whenever they hit a particularly bad patch of road and had to get out to help the cars over.

  Each time, he worked harder and longer than anyone, earning some of the men’s grudging respect, and the resentment of others who didn’t like Juarez’s approving eye on him. He brushed that off, just went along with the lifting and the pushing.

  She knew the game he was playing. According to Umberto, Mitch was to stay at the drop-off site and rejoin the team on their way back. The drop-off was tonight. Mitch wanted to stay with the group longer so he’d have more time to rescue Zak.

  And mess up her plans.

  She’d vouched for him, back when she’d still hoped he would come around to help her. If he did anything stupid, it would be her butt on the line. Juarez would assume they were working together. He’d shoot first, ask quest
ions later.

  She would have liked to think that Mitch wouldn’t do that to her. But as mad as he’d been at her this morning…He was convinced she was the enemy.

  If Mitch took off with Zak… Even if she managed to convince Juarez that she wasn’t in cahoots with him— She’d been the one who’d brought Zak back the first time. If the kid disappeared again, and by some miracle, Juarez didn’t blame her, he’d send her after Zak for sure.

  Except, she didn’t have time to chase after the kid again. She needed to go to Don Pedro at any cost.

  So her primary focus at the moment was to watch Mitch like a hawk and make sure he didn’t spirit Zak away when no one was looking.

  When their convoy came to a small creek lined with moss-covered stones, she jumped to the mud to lighten the load. So did most of the others.

  “It’s slippery,” the driver said. “Water’s higher than last week.”

  They’d had plenty of rain since then. Megan walked alongside the car as they crossed, in position to help if the current began pushing the vehicle downstream. Cold water filled her boots. At least she had dry socks in her backpack so she could change into them when they reached the other side. Walking around with wet feet in the jungle was asking for trouble.

  Using her femininity as an excuse to stay in the car didn’t even occur to her. Her continued survival depended on the men knowing that she was as tough as they were. Tougher.

  They reached the other side fine, but climbing ashore turned out to be more difficult than the crossing. The mud was deeper here. The lighter ATVs made it up the bank fine, but the tires of the two Jeeps got stuck, which meant another round of heaving and dragging.

  If she hadn’t been watching Mitch so closely, she wouldn’t have noticed that this time, instead of helping, he sneaked away into the jungle.

  “Need a drain,” he called back with a grin.

  Except none of the men ever walked very far to relieve themselves. But Mitch went far enough that she could no longer see him at all.

  She moved closer to Zak, trying to figure out Mitch’s game.

  He was back in ten minutes. And he was walking funny.