I dig the fork back into the bag and pull out larger mouthfuls, hoping to swallow more and taste less. “How do you know my dad hasn’t moved since he sent you the original coordinates?”
He pauses for a minute, probably pondering my question. “I don’t. But I have to trust that since he gave me the first set of coordinates, he’d follow up with new ones, as well. He said they were for an emergency.” He looks away from me, seemingly ashamed. “This isn’t quite an emergency, so if he is where he says he is, I’m the one who’s not trustworthy. Not him.”
“This is an emergency, Tango. You’re dying.”
“Cali, there are a group of assistants your dad worked with in China who are after him. I can assume they’ve been offered a lot of money to return what he has to them. Along with those assistants, the private organization he stole from is after him as well, obviously. This shit your dad has is a big deal. If it can cure cancer, and he’s hiding out with it, what do you think is going to happen when he’s found?”
Reaper was after me for this exact reason. He wanted to use me as bait for Dad. For a split second, the thought makes me wonder if Tango has been lying to me and he’s working with one of those two groups of people. What if I’m just the bait, as always? What if Tango isn’t really sick? Maybe he doesn’t need the drug to survive. Maybe he’s just after it like the others. Maybe he’s making me fall for him, so I weaken and trust him.
The echo of Mom’s voice rings loudly in my head. I shouldn’t trust him, or anyone. What have I done?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
TANGO
SUNSETS IN IRAQ looked the same. It was the only time of day where I would consider the place to be beautiful. Although that moment sometimes only lasted for a second until I heard shots fired in the distance. Sad as it may be, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear the same sound here in these apparently calm and quiet canyons. Too many people are after Eli. Too many people know what he has. Too many people want the reward for returning it.
I can’t help but wonder how long Cali can keep up this alpha girl act. I don’t care who you are, if you aren’t physically trained to survive in these conditions, complaints should accompany the flushed look on her cheeks, the sweat soaking up all of the material on her shirt, and the darkening sunburn on her arms and neck. Yet, not one complaint, moan, whine, whimper—nothing. She hasn’t said a word. She just keeps trudging on. In truth, I find this extremely sexy. Although at the moment, she looks like something just bit her ass. She looks pissed again, and I’m guessing I’m in for another mood swing. “Something wrong?” I ask, worried to hear a response.
“Are you really sick?” she asks. The question quakes through me. She thinks I’m Reaper. She thinks I’m here to screw her over.
“I’m not sure how to prove it besides coughing up more blood. Maybe when I drop dead you’ll believe me then.” I know I just pissed her off, but I’m a little shocked she just questioned my motives. I’ve been honest with her. I’ve told her everything, things I shouldn’t have even told her, and she still doesn’t believe me. What else am I supposed to do to prove myself?
CALI
Tango stands up and brushes the dirt off his backside. “Grab your Camelbak. We need to go find water,” he says coldly.
I nod my head and follow his lead. I wouldn’t survive in the wilderness myself. We’ve been walking for twenty minutes and if Tango disappeared, I would have no clue how to make it back to our campsite. At least I hear running water, and the fresh smell permeates my nose. As we walk closer, a slight mist developing in the warm air prickles against my hot skin, causing tiny bumps to rise in response to the temperature distinction. The sound of cascading water thunders louder and the white noise soothes my recent internal tension.
When we come to a clearing in the rocky terrain where trees are sprouted along the curvature of a sudden drop, I see the spray of the falls colliding against the gorges, inviting us to peek over the edge. The drop from the top is about fifteen feet, but the rocks look suitable for descending lower.
Tango lowers himself down the first few rocks and looks at me. He doesn’t reach his hand out, but the expression on his face is questioning if I need help coming down. I don’t. If those hands touch me again . . . ugh. This is hopeless. I’ve already let this go too far.
I turn around and carefully lower myself down to the first flat rock. The sharp edges scrape against my skin, but I ignore it. I watch as he lowers himself down another rock and I notice his body doesn’t skim along the side of the edge like mine just did. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to hold my weight off the rock like he is. I lower myself down again, but this time my foot slips from one of the lips in the crag. My leg falls against the coarse edges once more, and a sting burns up my leg.
“Quit being so stubborn and give me your hand,” he shouts at me from below. “Dammit, Cali, you’re bleeding.” I glance down at my leg and see a trickling red teardrop cascading down my skin. I slide my hand into Tango’s and his other hand wraps around my waist, pulling me down from the rock I’m hanging from.
We’re only a few small boulders away from water and he helps me down the remaining steps. “Sit,” he demands.
He pulls a green rag out of his back pocket and dips it into the water, all while never taking his eyes off me. If he is playing me, he’s damn good at what he does.
I feel the damp rag drape over the gash. He presses firmly, applying enough pressure that I scoot backward a few inches. He pulls the rag off to inspect the injured area and his hands wrap around my leg, elevating it off the rock. “Good one. Probably could use a few stitches.” Obviously, that’s not happening here. He pulls another rag out of his back pocket. It looks like a piece of torn cloth, a T-shirt maybe. He twists the material around his hands and wraps it tightly around my leg, securing it with a knot. The material feels as though it’s cutting off my circulation, but I trust—no, I don’t. I hope he knows what he’s doing.
I inspect my hands for further damage, and I think they’re only superficial scratches. I lean down beside the rock and swish my hands through the water, watching the spiral cloud of floating moss swirl around my fingers. Tango pulls the Camelbak off from around my shoulders and dunks the plastic bag into the water. “Is this water safe to drink?” I ask.
“No.” He shoves his hand into his left cargo pocket and pulls out a small tablet. “Iodine will clean the water and make it suitable to drink.” He drops the tablet into the water pouch and shakes it around. “It takes about thirty minutes.” He hands my bag over to me and repeats the process again for his water. After dropping the tablet in, he looks over at me with irritation darkening his eyes. “Just for your information, I do in fact have cancer. I am dying. I don’t want to die, and like I said, I’m fucking scared as hell. I’m not just using you to reach your dad. You’re the one who suggested finding him for the treatment, remember? I’m not the bad guy, Cali.”
“I want to trust you, but I’d be lying if I said I did. And when there is no trust, paranoia can seep in through even the thickest skin. You say certain things that make me question everything, especially if I should really be here. I know this was my idea, but—” I sigh, frustrated with where this has gone and where it’s going. “Look, we’re complicating things—you know, pretending like there’s something more than sexual tension between us. I’ve known you for a week, Tango. You’re hot. You say the right things at the right times and you know how to make a girl swoon, but none of that proves your honest motives for being here. I’m sorry.”
He looks at me for a minute, taking in my words, maybe thinking of a suitable response. “No, Carolina, I’m sorry if I haven’t proven enough to you. I don’t know what else to do to make you trust—no, sorry—have a little faith in me.”
His words lead to silence, accentuating the screams of my internal battle. I feel like I’m gambling with my safety and the anxiety is driving me mad. It’s not like I can just convince myself that I’m not in this situation, and I can’t ex
actly control how I feel about this, about him. This is why I don’t involve myself with people. This is why I promised not to fall for anyone again. I can’t even fucking trust myself to do the right thing.
I’m the one who can’t be trusted.
Deciding which direction I should continue on with, I close my eyes to listen to the sound of leaves brushing against each other from the slight breath of the wind. My heart has stopped hammering against my ribcage and I feel it’s safe to open my eyes. I feel it’s safe to go with my gut on this one.
“Tango . . . ”
“I don’t like the way you just said my name, Carolina.”
“Look . . . I’m not sure I’m ever going to be able to believe you, and while I wanted that kiss to last a whole hell of a lot longer than it did, I know I shouldn’t be getting involved with you, or anyone for that matter. I don’t want to be hurt again.” If what I’m saying is true, why is my heart punching me from the inside. My throat feels tight, as if it’s trying to stop me from saying what I’m saying. I’m so fucking lonely, and I’m so quick to push anyone and everyone away.
“I—wow. I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. You’re right. The trust needs to be there before anything should ever happen between us. I was being impulsive and I shouldn’t have been. I read you wrong, and that’s a hard one for me to admit. I wish you would have said something sooner.”
He didn’t read me wrong. I’m an asshole, but I still believe every word Mom said to me. I lower my head to avoid any contact with his moonlit glowing eyes. I have nothing to say in return—nothing can make this less awkward or easier.
“I’m going to rinse off real quick. I need to clear my mind for a minute. You mind?” he asks.
I shake my head, still holding my attention to the rock below my feet. I see his shadow stand tall beside me, and his arms lift over his head. The scent of his shirt, which is a combination of man and sunscreen, swooshes into my face as the material drops down next to me. I hear the metal clink of his belt buckle release, which allows me to imagine what he looks like while taking it off. The clamor of his shorts hitting the rock forces oxygen to constrict in my lungs.
The shadow quickly disappears into the water and my eyes are unwillingly drawn out to him. He’s facing away from me, probably admiring the waterfall, and I’m ogling the shadows of his half naked body.
The water cuts his body off at the middle of his waist, making me wonder what his clothes have been hiding. He lifts his arms and combs his fingertips through the short spikes on the top of his head. His biceps must be larger than my thigh. They flex with such a simple movement, showcasing what he’s capable of.
I’m going to regret this. I just told him this was basically over and now . . . I’m changing my mind.
I stand up and pull my tank top over my head. The coolness of the musky air chills my skin, forcing a mist of goose bumps over my stomach. I drop my shorts down to the rocks, revealing more than I thought I’d ever allow someone to see again, and I kick off my boots while unwrapping the fabric from my leg. The bleeding has stopped, and I’m taking that as a sign that I should continue. I place the scrap of fabric over my clothes and dive into the water.
When I resurface, I rake my fingers through my hair to clear it out of my face and I open my eyes to see Tango staring at me. Getting a better glimpse of the front of him without a shirt convinces me that I was the biggest moron in the world a few minutes ago. The darkness in the hotel room last night didn’t do his body any justice. He’s so fucking hot. I can’t just coexist on this trek with him and not touch him again. And I don’t care if he thinks I’m crazy. I don’t care about what I just said to him. All I care about is the way his hands feel over my skin.
Without an idea of what to say, I pinch my lip between my teeth again. It happens without a thought. It’s my body reacting to his flawlessness. His eyes are having trouble focusing and his chest is heaving in and out at a much faster rate than it was a second ago.
His lips part and I can’t take it. I tread through the water faster than I thought I could, and I wrap my arms tightly around his neck as I slam my lips into his and suck all the breath out of him. His hands loop around my waist and he lifts me up with ease, allowing my legs to wrap around his narrow hips. He’s forgiving me for everything I’ve said and doesn’t question my change of mind.
I feel his bulge press into me, and my body responds instantly. His hands slide down over the thin material of my panties as a growl hums from the depths of his throat. His grip tightens and his teeth clamp down over my bottom lip. My body presses against his as our skin blends smoothly from the water acting as a lubricant between us. There is no resistance, only a relentless desire. He treads us backwards toward the falls and pulls me under until we’re being showered by the solid thick sheen of falling water. We continue to move in stride until we’re up against a rock wall. “I’m not going any further until I know you believe me. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to be with you. I haven’t lied to you about anything, and I trust you, Cali. You don’t have to trust me, but I need you to believe me,” he says loud enough so I can hear him over the rushing water.
I can see truth in his eyes. It’s something I didn’t see in Reaper’s. He looks at me in a lot of ways Reaper never looked at me. I look him in the eyes and let the truth roll off my tongue. “I believe you.”
“Don’t just say that to get in my pants,” he laughs softly.
I slap his chest playfully. “No, I do believe you. And . . . you’re not exactly wearing pants.” I could hardly find the right words. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything like this.
He lifts me up a bit higher until my head is above his, giving his hand easy access to cup around my breast. He pushes it up and wraps his lips around my nipple, using the tip of his tongue to draw small pleasurable circles. The sensation causes my breaths to increase and my fingers to press firmly into his shoulders. Obviously he knows how to use his tongue, and that thought turns me on even more. Just as I think I can’t take much more, his hand travels down my side and onto my thigh, lowering me until our eyes meet again. But it’s only until his starved mouth finds the spot on my neck that makes my body tighten around his. He continues sucking and biting the spot until I let out a soft moan. I’m becoming weak in his hands and he definitely knows it. His hand finally slides under the hem of my panties and his finger slips inside of me briefly, but he pulls it out much quicker than I want. His hands instantly clamp around my sides and he drags me under the water with him, leaving me breathless and terrified. My body is too weak to struggle against his hold, and my eyes remain clenched shut, imagining my worst nightmare, knowing I shouldn’t have fucking trusted anyone.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CALI
TANGO’S BELOW THE WATER with me. He’s pointing frantically at something, but I don’t understand. As the remaining oxygen seeps out of my body, Tango’s hands grip around my waist and he thrusts me up above the water. His hand slaps over my mouth and his other arm wraps around my stomach as he drags me up to the nearest rock. He puts his face in front of mine and mouths the words, “Stay here.” The purposeful look in his eyes screams danger and my eyes dart around looking for the source. But I don’t see anything. How could he have seen anything, but darkness or the water that was barricading us?
He wades over to the rock we jumped from, grabs our clothes and water, and holds it above his head as he makes his way back to where I’m sitting. “Get dressed, quickly.”
I struggle to pull my shorts up over my soaked legs, and before I have them settled over my hips, Tango is pulling my tank top over my head. He places my boots next to each of my feet and I shove them in without tying up the laces. I toss my water pouch back over my shoulders just as he reaches for my hand from the above rock. He nearly catapults me upward and repeats this three more times until we’re back on solid land.
He pulls me over into a nook of a rock formation and squats down, pulling
me with him. “He’s here,” he whispers into my ear.
Those two words hold all the meaning in the world. I know exactly who he is and why Tango almost just drowned me. “Reaper?” I confirm. The name tastes dirty on my tongue.
“I’m assuming it’s him. He’s been tracking us, I’m sure. I saw a man with an assault rifle on one of the higher boulders. Moron was standing right in the glow of the moonlight.” His eyes shift wildly behind me, searching through the darkness. “We have to lose him or whoever it is so he doesn’t find our campsite.” Tango hovers over me and begins to lace my boots up.
“I can do it,” I say, brushing his hand away from my foot as I continue to lace them up, quickly and tightly. He steps into his shorts, pulling them up over his soaked boxers, and pulls his T-shirt over his head.
“This way,” he whispers, nodding his head in the opposite direction than where we came from.
The slight sound of our feet crunching against the moss-covered dirt is loud enough to overload my ears, and I’m fearful whoever is after us can hear the same thing. But my fear disappears as my memory jogs back to the moment I watched Reaper murder Krissy. If it is him who’s following us, I want to go after him.
I continue following in Tango’s footsteps, noticing the maze he’s created in the woods. I know how to throw a tracker off. I remember Dad telling me about it. You walk in different directions, leaving your footprints where you want the tracker to go. That’s what we’re doing.
By the descending angle of this trail, I believe we’re heading back down the canyon, far away from our tent. Tango has his pack, but I don’t have mine. I want to see inside of his mind right now and find out what his plan is, but I don’t want my voice or whisper to carry through the breeze.
TAG Page 16
