Terms of Attraction

by Kylie Brant

  She’d brought a dozen sandwiches. Ava was sincerely hoping they’d be safely back at the palace before their provisions gave out. But since their safe return seemed rather dicey at the moment, she said nothing.

  Their long dark clothing made it seem hotter than it was. But, as Cael had explained hours ago, it was a mistake to bare any more skin than necessary in the jungle. And so far Ava was inclined to agree. She’d reapplied repellent several more times, but mosquitoes and other stinging insects still swarmed and lighted, even if she had managed to avoid being devoured so far.

  “As long as we’re stopped we may as well change your bandages.”

  He shook his head. “They’re fine.”

  “They need to be changed daily and be kept dry. Given the state of our clothing, they’re probably soaked.” From her pack she took out a plastic bag filled with the medical supplies the doctor had left behind for him.

  He stared at her, arrested. “What all do you have in that pack?”

  “I’m sure the contents are much more innocent than what you’re carrying,” she said dryly. She looked up from her preparations quizzically. “You’ll need to lose the shirt.”

  His eyes remained fixed on hers, heated. Silently he started working buttons through buttonholes. An answering warmth suffused her, one that owed nothing to the humidity.

  There was nothing remotely sexy about their situation. Or her request. But that didn’t stop her pulse from churning to a faster pace with every button he released. It didn’t stop her throat from drying, despite the drink she’d just taken. And it didn’t prevent her imagination from painting this as a striptease, rather than just as a matter of first aid.

  The shirt was completely undone now and he was working on the cuffs. Because it seemed safer, Ava busied herself tearing open the packages of gauze pads, being careful not to expose any portion of them to possible contaminants.

  He squatted down next to her, one bare arm held out. “Okay, Doc. Do your worst.”

  She rose to her knees, moved a bit to take advantage of the slight light nearby where it was slanting through the dense foliage overhead. She’d been right; the bandage was sweat soaked. Loosening the adhesive, she peeled it away, stifling a gasp of pity. The burn was pink and angry looking, still oozing at the edges. She coated the fresh gauze with the medicated ointment and reapplied a fresh bandage. Then she repeated the action for each of his wounds, taking great care to keep her touch gentle.

  “I suppose I don’t need to ask whether you took any of the pain medication the doctor left you.”

  He was inspecting her work closely. “Can’t afford to. I need to keep my head clear.”

  “Last time I checked, pain wasn’t exactly the best thing for clarity of thinking.” When she’d been shot, it had been a toss-up whether she got fuzzier from the prescription pain pills or the agony of the injury itself. But she wasn’t going to nag him. She’d stopped the medicine within a couple of days, choosing to suffer the twinges and aches rather than cope with the drowsiness and nausea.

  She placed the sterile first-aid supplies back in the Ziploc bag and put it away. Then she dug for a plastic trash bag she had folded up in her pack and withdrew it to shove the wrappers and used bandages in.

  He was watching her with a slight smile on his face. “You believe in being prepared.”

  “Don’t you?” Their gazes locked and the smile slowly vanished from his lips.

  “Usually.” He shifted a little and the width of his shoulders blocked out that single ray of light. “But I gotta admit, I wasn’t prepared for you.”

  Her gaze searched his. There could be several meanings hidden in those words. But what she saw on his face decided the question for her.

  Desire.

  The recognition had her thoughts splintering. Because she had a strong sense of self-preservation, inner alarms were shrilling like a three-bell fire. There was no basis for a relationship here. She still recalled exactly what the man was capable of.

  But thoughts of the future, of what awaited her in the States seemed far away now. Everything around her was so foreign it was difficult to get her bearings. Difficult to concentrate on anything outside this moment.

  His shirt was still crumpled in one hand. He wore a ribbed black tank undershirt that clung to his powerful torso and left most of his shoulders and his arms bare. She’d traced the muscles roped there. Kneaded the well-developed pecs. Felt the length and breadth of him stretched on out on top of her, limb to limb, muscle and sinew against curves.

  The jungle seemed to fade away. The danger that they should be focused on intermingled with danger of a far different type. And it beckoned with a wild siren call that was the ultimate temptation.

  Ava didn’t consider herself a risk taker. But she was teetering on the brink now of a perilous choice. One she’d have trouble forgiving herself for later.

  Drawing in a breath, she sat back on her haunches, busying herself tucking things back into her backpack. She could feel him watching her, sensed the control he was trying to exert over his own emotions. “Are we still being smart?”

  Her lungs felt strangled. “We have to be.”

  He muttered an oath she pretended not to hear and then rose. Pulling his shirt back on, he buttoned it before going to his own bag and swiftly replacing things inside. “Bad timing. But this isn’t over, Ava.” The look he gave her was a searing promise.

  Shaken, she stood, slipped her arms back into her pack. Retrieved her rifle. He was right about one thing. This wasn’t the time to be distracted by the chemistry that flickered to life whenever they were together.

  But she wasn’t taking him up on his promise, either. A shudder of disappointment shook her. Despite the fact that they were on the same side for the moment, she hoped she had just enough self-respect left to refrain from sleeping with the man who’d threatened to destroy her.

  * * *

  “I see it.”

  Adrenaline spiked through him as Ava’s quiet voice sounded in the whisper mic.

  “How far?”

  “Another hour-and-a-half trek, I’d guess.”

  Thunder rumbled overhead. Any stray rays of light that had been piercing the jungle canopy were gone. With a feeling of resignation, he figured they were lucky they hadn’t been rained on before. This far into the mountains, there was bound to be heavy precipitation daily.

  “I see four cells.”

  Hope flickered. That would account for Perez, Reynolds, de la Reyes and Fuente. Maybe they were all alive. But they’d have to be prepared for the possibility that at least one of them would be too badly injured to make it to safety.

  Unless he arranged one hell of a diversion for the rebels.

  “I’ve got a visual of Fuente.” Ava’s voice sounded strained. “No one else I recognize. I’m coming down.”

  By the time she was on the ground again, Cael had a sheet of paper unrolled from his pack and a marker in his hand. “Draw it out for me.”

  Ava crouched down beside him, but not, he noted, before checking the ground carefully for anything that crawled or slithered. Taking the marker from him, she began drawing a diagram. “The cells are at the back of the camp, situated similarly to the last location they deserted. Smaller buildings are up and dotted around the area.” She drew them in. “A main structure is being constructed in the center. Really, by the time they’re done, the whole setup will be a carbon copy of the one they vacated.” She made some Xs around the drawing. “These indicate where I saw guards patrolling.”

  Cael studied the drawing intently. Six guards for an inner perimeter. Six for outer. They were taking no chances with a high-profile prisoner like the president.

  She was looking at him, something in her expression warning him.

  “What?”

  “I couldn’t see who was in the cells. But I could see who wasn’t in them.”

  When he frowned, she went on, “Cael, Marissa Fuente was out walking around, chatting with rebel soldiers. She’s
certainly not wearing the dress she was ‘kidnapped’ in. And she’s looking remarkably at home.”

  “She was in on it,” he said, stunned.

  There was no reflection of his surprise in her grim expression. “Bitch. I should have hurt her when I took her down that first night.”

  Ava had suspected the woman had a hand in it, he recalled. But he was more than a little bemused. Fuente’s talents were wasted on the runway. She should have been in Hollywood.

  He said as much and Ava snorted. “Men. Big boobs strike you all blind. She played us. Well, she played de la Reyes longer,” she amended. “But now we know what really had her cutting her trip short.”

  “So was she working for Ramirez all along or did he get to her after the assassination attempt failed?” he wondered aloud.

  She lifted a shoulder. “Does it matter? She’s in this up to her scrawny neck.”

  He pursed his lips, considering. “Then who’s in the fourth cell?” They looked at each other, silent for a moment. As mobile as the camps were, the rebels weren’t going to waste time constructing something that wasn’t immediately needed. “Maybe she was locked up but, uh…traded some favors for better treatment.”

  Grimacing, Ava looked back at the map. “Either way, we can’t trust her not to sound the alarm when we’re getting the others out.”

  He nodded. The one positive thing was that they could be fairly certain de la Reyes was there if Fuente was.

  He tried not to worry about his operatives. If they weren’t there, he had another search-and-rescue mission ahead of him. Because he wasn’t leaving the country with two of his men unaccounted for.

  “It’d be best if you stayed here while I go on ahead to recon.” With a sinking feeling, he correctly interpreted the flinty glare she fixed him with. “I need to assess the security and this is outside your area of expertise. It makes sense—”

  “It makes sense for you to have someone covering your back when you’re entering enemy territory.”

  He eyed her unblinkingly. “You didn’t sign on for this. Think I don’t realize that? You’re in uncharted waters and I can guarantee you things will deviate from the best plan we come up with. And I have to react to those deviations. It would be best if you could disavow all knowledge of such actions.”

  Cael expected her temper. He expected an argument. He wasn’t prepared for the flash of hurt that flickered across her expression. “Because you think I’ll give the information to Samuelson. Help him twist things to hang you.” She rose in a lithe, boneless move he couldn’t have imitated if he tried. She tried for a careless shrug. Didn’t quite pull it off. “You’re wise to be cautious, I suppose, given your history.”

  He felt exceedingly dim-witted. His mind was grappling to connect that flicker of pain he’d seen in her expression with the matter-of-fact tone he heard now. The one that rang false on about a dozen different levels.

  “Wait a minute.” She strode rapidly ahead of him, just as he felt the first splat of rain on his head. “Dammit, Ava, wait, would you?” He caught up with her as just as the sky opened up in earnest, a torrential downpour that was only minimally blocked by the canopy overhead.

  Grabbing her elbow, he halted her, turning her to face him. “You’re way off base here.”

  “Am I?” She gave him a tight smile, yanked at her elbow. He refused to release her. “You told me the same thing last night, remember? You didn’t want me along because you couldn’t trust me. Not like it’s the first time I’ve heard it.”

  The temper inside him ignited like a lit fuse. But it wasn’t directed at her but himself. “Dammit, will you listen? I don’t want any of this touching you! I’m not going to give Samuelson ammunition to be used against you in this. I’m having a hard enough time figuring out a way to keep him away from you once you’re back in the States.”

  “I’d be a fool to believe you.”

  “Yeah? Well, the joke’s on me, sweetheart.” The fury was churning in him now. “Because I’m the one who’s been the fool all along. I’ve made excuses for you since the beginning, do you know that? And now when I have Samuelson in my sights, instead of planning for the killing strike, all I can worry about is how to keep you safe from him. I can’t afford the luxury of worrying about you. The man’s a threat as long as he’s in a position of power.”

  She met him glare for glare, temper for temper. Their argument was none the less fervent for being conducted in near whispers. “Luxury? Who asked for your concern? Not me. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was fifteen years old. Before that. Forget any plans as they pertain to me. I don’t need your protection. Not here. Not when I get back home.”

  “Don’t you think I’d like to forget it?” he said bitterly. “It’d be a helluva lot easier if I could do what’s the smartest without considering how it affects you. But I can’t.” She was staring at him now, the rain pouring over her, forming rivulets to trace down her exquisite features. Frustration pumped through him. “This is a whole new way for me to think, and believe me, I’d give anything to be able to switch it off.”

  Abruptly he let go of her, and brushed by her to take the lead, almost welcoming the downpour of rain in his face as he strode in the direction of the camp she’d spotted.

  Forget about her. He swiped the moisture off his face and plunged ahead. Damned if he didn’t wish he could.

  * * *

  The rain stopped as quickly as it had begun, the clouds parting for the sun to turn the jungle into a vat of steam. The back of Ava’s calves ached with exertion. The precipitation had turned the ground into slippery oozy mud. Every step she took the mud seemed to suck at her boot, vacuuming it back to the earth. By the time they’d walked a half mile, the muscles in her legs were trembling like leaves in a windstorm. It was getting more and more difficult even to reach out to hold a large fern or vine out of the way to duck under it.

  The bone-deep exhaustion she felt was almost a relief. It made it almost impossible to think about the revelation Cael had made earlier.

  Almost.

  Her mind skittered uneasily away from his declaration, before creeping up to it again, afraid to examine his meaning too closely. Temper had stripped them both of subterfuge, that was clear. But she still had a difficult time believing concern for her was was the source of his frustration.

  She couldn’t recall the last time anyone had been worried about her.

  When she was growing up, she’d quickly learned that her father had no patience for emotion, so injuries were downplayed. Tears were swallowed. And Danny had always been less focused on the dangers of her job than with the choices she had to make on it, especially as a sniper.

  This…this was personal. And she didn’t quite know how to deal with it.

  Her mental meanderings were halted when Cael threw an arm out to stop her. He had a finger raised to his lips and she understood. They were close to the outer perimeter. Obviously he wasn’t leaving anything to chance. He pointed at her, at a tree several yards away and made a crouching movement. He wanted her out of sight. She waited until he finished his signals, understanding that he was going to try to get closer for surveillance.

  He got down on his hands and knees and scooped up mud to cover his bare skin. Ava melted back into the trees, choosing a different one to scale than the one he’d indicated. She tucked her rifle into some nearby vegetation. Halfway up the tree she came face-to-face with a revolting spider that was twice as big as her hand.

  Fear was a powerful impetus. She fairly flew the rest of the way up. When she got close enough to the top that she could get a view, she rested for a moment, her whole body shaking with distaste and exertion. Then she reached for the binoculars and began scanning.

  She was close enough to see the men in the cells, since the structures had no roofs, leaving the prisoners at the mercy of the elements. And all four cells were occupied. She recognized de la Reyes in one. Reynolds in another. She couldn’t make out the faces of the other two.

>   What she could see had her breath strangling in her throat. Cael was inching toward the camp clearing, on his elbows and knees.

  And twenty yards from him, a San Baltes rebel soldier stood, rifle raised, pointed right at Cael’s head.

  CHAPTER 12

  Ava’s throat closed. “Rifle twenty yards to your right,” she said into the mic, voice strangled.

  Even as she spoke the words, he was a blur of motion. She lost sight of him for an instant or two as he rolled, then came to his feet a few feet from the soldier. Everything slowed to still frames. The rifle barrel swinging to follow him. Cael’s arm pulling back. Then shooting forward. A blade she hadn’t even seen him holding whirling through the air, striking the soldier. Burying to the hilt itself in his heart.

  As she watched, the soldier swayed, began to crumple. Cael caught him before he hit the ground, then dragged him deeper into the jungle. He came out alone a moment later. Commenced his recon as if nothing had happened.

  Ava didn’t recover nearly so quickly. Reaction set in, a giant shudder working over her body. Dropping the glasses for a moment, she just rested her forehead against the limb and waited for the shaking to stop.

  He could have been killed. The body amid the fronds and ferns could have been his. It was going to take a while to recover from that knowledge. And the response it was wreaking in her system.

  But then, shoulders squaring, she took up position again. Because there was only so much surveillance that could be accomplished on the ground. Aerial intel was her specialty.

  And it just might be the only thing that would save Cael from the next soldier who happened by.

  She scanned the area carefully, pausing on the scene taking place in the middle of the compound. The man standing in the center seemed to be shouting at two of his soldiers. Frowning, she adjusted her glasses to get a closer look. The two men seemed to be protesting or explaining something. In the next moment the man in charge pulled out a handgun.

  The sound of the shots could be heard faintly in the distance. First one body crumpled. Then another. The officer—because clearly this person appeared in charge of the rebels—gestured to another couple of soldiers, who moved rapidly to do his bidding.