His hand drifted down her cheek. The light touch raised chills, defying the heat. He cupped her chin, lifting her face to his. Lips parted, his mouth eased closer to hers. “Done.” The word came out as a harsh whisper.
Done? They weren’t done until she’d run her hands over his body the way she’d wanted to since the first moment she saw him. Not until she’d found out what he liked and told him what she wanted. Done? Not until they’d used each one of the condoms in their packs.
Gemma blinked and blinked again. The jungle behind Ben moved, came closer like a camera lens doing a close-up. She went for her gun. Before she could palm the Ruger a massive arm encircled her, trapping her arm against her body. The last thing she saw before a foul-smelling gloved hand covered her face was Ben engulfed by men in jungle camouflage and being thrown to the ground. The Sasquatch lifting her off the ground wore body armor, so she went for his face. Her free hand went back, her fingers raking over a beard scrabbling for a grip on his nose, his ears, anything to cause him pain. She didn’t know who or what the fuck these assholes were. She did know she wasn’t going down without hurting someone. One boot connected with his shin. Then her other boot connected. The thing grunted and its hand moved enough for her to see Ben on the ground, struggling under the weight of two men doing their best to smother him.
“Great Cesar’s ghost. Admiral, take it easy.”
She delivered a hard blow to his ear, accompanied with another kick. He knew she was an admiral. Damn it. She got a grip on his ear.
The giant shook her like a Rottweiler with a chew toy. “We’re SEALs.”
SEALs? They sent SEALs to rescue us? How the bloody hell did they find us? No way. These men were from the cartel.
“I’m going to take my hand away, and if you let go of my ear I’ll put you down,” he growled.
She twisted the man’s ear and he gave her another shake.
The men on top of Ben were looking up, the whites of their eyes the only part of them not camouflaged.
“It’s Hunter. I was in charge of the SEAL team that rescued your daughter, Commander Carver.”
Hunter? A year ago her daughter Olivia, a Coast Guard helicopter pilot, was on a personal mission to get the drug lord who ordered the execution of her twin, Daniel. She’d gotten inside the cartel, been discovered and taken out to sea aboard the man’s yacht. The SEALs, led by Hunter, were the spearhead of a multi-agency force that rescued Olivia. A mission she herself had been in charge of. Gemma released his ear and nodded. He grunted and took his hand away. She gasped in fresh air, at the same time swiveling her head to get a look at who the voice belonged to. The man turned her in his arms as easily as if she were a child. A grin split a face smeared with green and black camo paint. “Afternoon, ma’am,” he said in the softest whisper.
“Hunter? How did . . .” The gloved hand clamped back over her mouth with lightning speed.
He tightened his grip and whispered into her ear, “I would appreciate you keeping it down, Admiral. Ma’am.”
Chapter 6
Gemma’s eyes went big as coconuts and Ben knew he’d completely blown it. He’d let the bulge pressing against the zipper of his pants think. His apology was smothered by boulders the size of hospital beds slamming him to the damp ground. Boulders with arms and legs. A monster held Gemma, lifting her off her feet. She solidly planted a boot against his knee. The thing shook her like he was fluffing a pillow. He couldn’t do a damn thing. The way these assholes had him pinned he could barely breathe, much less help her. One man wedged a forearm under his chin and leaned down.
“Take it easy. We’re Navy SEALs. The admiral is okay.”
Ben nodded. The hand smothering him moved off. “Admiral?” he blurted and was rewarded with an elbow to the chest and the bedpan-sized hand clamped over his face again. The fingers over his eyes spread and a camouflage face came close to his.
“Keep . . . it . . . down,” the face said.
Ben nodded. The hand lifted and he sucked in fresh air. The hand wasn’t only the size of a bedpan, it smelled like one. The man, who called Gemma Admiral, carried her to where he was being squashed. The SEAL, if that’s who they really were, took a knee, sitting her on his leg like she was a kid.
“If either one of you speak that loud again I’ll have Hunter duct-tape your mouth. Understand?” one of the faces said.
Ben and Gemma nodded again. The men moved off him. One offered a hand to help him to a sitting position. He didn’t take it. He wasn’t feeling too kindly toward the men who’d roughed up Gemma. The admiral.
He didn’t know her well enough to read her expression but he was pretty damn sure she wasn’t happy. The full lips he’d been ready to kiss a minute ago were now pressed in a thin line. Dirt and sweat smeared the cheeks and throat that moments ago were flushed red with what he’d hoped was the same lust he’d been experiencing. But the fucking SEALs, if that’s who they were, had ruined all that.
“Are you team leader?” Gemma said to the man whose knee she was perched on, keeping her voice low. He gave a deferential tip of his head in the direction of the man crouched on the other side of Ben.
“He’s in charge of this one, ma’am.”
The other SEAL nodded. She leaned his direction. “What’s your name and how did you know where to find us? I didn’t set off the locator beacons.”
“Lieutenant Mercer, ma’am. Team name Vegas. We weren’t looking for you. Mind telling me what a Coast Guard admiral is doing out here?” The man looked from Gemma to Ben. “Let me rephrase that. How you happen to be here?” He looked at Ben. “And who the hell are you?”
Asshole. They’d been watching. Wait. Admiral? Commander Carver? Olivia’s mother? Holy shit! He pushed to his feet and took Gemma’s arm, pulling her up to him.
“Forget them. Tell me what the hell is going on.” His tone conveyed his frustration.
“Oh boy. Looks like Lucy has some ’splaining to do.” Ben threw a vicious look over his shoulder at the man who’d spoken in a ridiculous accent.
He turned back. “Gemma?” It came out as a low growl.
The big man, Hunter, rose up behind Gemma and shot him a menacing look.
Ben returned the favor. “Back off, asshole.” He was in no mood for intimidation games.
“Ben.” Gemma put a hand on his chest. “I am a Coast Guard admiral. I am Sam and Olivia’s mother.” Her voice was different, it held an edge he hadn’t heard before.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What difference does it make?”
The two SEALs stood on either side of him. One between him and Gemma.
“Whatever you two have going here, settle it later. I need my questions answered now,” Vegas said.
Gemma shrugged from his grip and faced the SEAL.
“Medical mission. This is Dr. Walsh.” She touched his arm. “I’m on my own time to fly doctors and supplies to villages. We were returning from a village on the Mira. Instead of flying directly back, I flew along the coast.”
At his insistence. He elbowed past the man to stand next to Gemma.
“A trawler tucked in a small inlet fired on us.” She moved enough for her body to touch his but didn’t take her eyes off the SEAL. “I was flying low had no time to evade.”
He recalled the muscle-cramping sound of bullets tearing into the Beechcraft’s fuselage and his body produced an involuntary shiver.
“This close to Colombia, I think they were transporting drugs. They thought we were after them and bang, bang. Radio was useless. Both engines were hit. The tail.”
The tail was more than hit, it was half gone.
“Controls were toast. I held it together as long as I could. But with no stabilization.” Gemma shrugged. “I got us as far away from the trawler as possible. Ditched.”
The memory of waves crashing over that plane produced another twitch.
“We have no intel about a search and rescue,” Hunter said. They were standing in a tight circle now.
unter said.
“There are Ecuadorian and Colombian navy ships along with a Coast Guard cutter sitting a few miles offshore, they should have picked up your transponder,” Vegas said.
Gemma shook her head. “No SAR. I turned off the transponder and haven’t used our locator beacons. That trawler was loaded with satellite electronics. Didn’t want them tracking us.”
“Any SAR for you is blind,” Vegas said.
Gemma nodded.
There was silence for a long moment, then Hunter let loose with a long list of cusswords in several languages.
“How did you find us?” Gemma said, ignoring the cussword litany.
“The noise you two were making could be heard in Panama. You were about to blow our op,” the third SEAL drawled. His voice was now a rich baritone with a Southern accent.
Gemma looked back to Vegas. “Op? I left D.C. four days ago and there was no activity in this region. Is that why the ships and cutter are offshore?”
“Yes. It came up hot.” Vegas gave her a what-can-I-say shrug. “We came in last night.”
“In that storm?” Ben was incredulous.
“Yes.” Vegas shot him a look and returned his gaze to Gemma. “Like Bambi said.”
And what was it with these nicknames?
“We started hearing you a couple of hours ago,” Vegas went on. “You were freaking loud. Finding you two was not what we expected. Hunter identifying you was, well, f’ing surprising.”
Been knew how they felt. Learning about Gemma was abso-fucking-lutely surprising. At least one part of the mystery from the accident was explained. She wasn’t running from the law or doing anything illegal, she’d probably been visiting family.
“Okay.” Vegas sighed and checked his watch, one of those that did everything but make coffee. “We’ll make a connection in a few. Get you out of here and to a pickup location.” He removed his hat and scratched his head, then looked at Hunter. “We’re done. I’ll request extraction. You contact M&M and the Suit.”
Hunter made to break away from the group. “Wait.” Gemma grabbed his wrist and Ben noted her fingers didn’t come near to circling it.
“Who are M&M and the Suit? More SEALs? What do you mean, done?” Gemma demanded, using what Ben thought was her commanding officer voice.
“Not SEALs,” Vegas said. “Agency guys. M&M, Money Man, is Secret Service. The Suit is CIA. With all due respect to your rank, ma’am,” Vegas continued, throwing some commanding officer tone at her, “and taking your rank into consideration, we need to get you out of here.”
“Sounds good to me,” Ben said, slapping debris from his pants.
“You do that and this op is blown,” Gemma said.
The SEAL pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yes, ma’am, that it is.”
Gemma let go of Hunter and stepped closed to Vegas. “It’s more than drugs.”
“Ma’am, that’s . . .”
Gemma pulled herself to her full height and put her face inches from the taller man’s face. “Don’t . . . you . . . dare . . . say . . . classified, or need-to-know, or any other bullshit. You may think because you’re SEALs you can yank me around. I can guarantee, you fuck with me and you’ll learn what being yanked around really is. Tell me.” Her voice was dead-on harsh and loaded with authority.
Ben stepped back and the SEALs exchanged glances. The lieutenant’s gaze settled on Hunter. The whites of his eyes were in sharp contrast with the green and black paint smeared on his face. Hunter sighed. “Tell her. Everything is blown anyway.”
Vegas turned to the third man. “Bambi?”
“Sure. I don’t want to find out what it feels like to get yanked around by an admiral,” he said.
Vegas looked at Ben. “What about him?”
“Oh, for crap’s sake,” Gemma said. “You and I both know when this is done the men in black will swoop in, threaten us with torture and IRS audits till we die if we say anything other than the story line they feed us. He’s good.” Gemma turned and gave him a wicked look. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Walsh?”
Ben nodded. “It is.”
Vegas eyed him and grinned. “You open your mouth about any of this we will know. We will find you and you won’t have to worry about men in black or the IRS. Got it?”
“Got it.” He was being threatened with death by a man in camouflage and carrying a half dozen weapons. What else was he going to say?
Vegas turned to Gemma. “You know about the cocaine subs?”
Gemma nodded.
“The trawler. It’s guarding a sub.”
“Here in Ecuador.” Gemma’s voice bubbled with excitement.
“Yes, hidden off a branch of a river not far north of us.”
Ben and Gemma exchanged looks. Was it the river she’d planned to follow?
“How big is it? How much drugs?” She put her hands on top of her head.
“The biggest we’ve seen and none yet. Our intel is another boat will bring the drugs in today or tomorrow. The Secret Service is working on a counterfeit lead. Bales going on the sub could also hold millions of funny-money dollars.”
Ben rocked back on his heels. In forty-eight hours he’d been shot at, in a plane crash, stumbling through the jungle, found a woman he’d been searching twenty years for, and now listened to Navy SEALs talking about busting a counterfeit ring and drug traffickers like normal people talk about the weather. Un-fucking-believable.
“Getting you two to safety is now our priority. They’ll have to catch these guys at sea.”
“No,” Gemma said politely.
“Excuse me?” There was no politeness in Vegas’s voice. He turned an ear to her like he hadn’t heard correctly.
Yeah, excuse me? Ben gave her the same look Vegas did.
“I’m asking that you don’t report we’re here.”
“Ma’am, I . . .”
“Lieutenant, I am more than aware of how operations like this are set up. There are combined forces from three countries out there. Think about it. This was not set up as a personnel extraction. You tell them I’m here”—she glanced sideways at Ben—“we’re here, it will complicate an already complicated situation. Those subs are built to be damn near impervious to radar. They slip out into the ocean and they’re gone. Putting tons of drugs and millions in funny money on the street. I don’t want this to be blown because of us. Let it play out as planned.”
Ben nodded agreement.
Hunter spoke up. “Ya know, LT, she’s right on both counts. Command won’t like an admiral sitting in the middle of all of this. They’ll want her out of here for sure. An extraction this far into the game,” he rubbed his chin, “risks blowing everything. The sub gets out into the Pacific and the chance of getting it is none to fucking none.”
Gemma bent and lifted the corner of the tarp that a few minutes ago he’d been imagining them having sex on, her hot body shuddering under him. Fuck. He’d turned into a horny teenager. Gemma was tugging on the cloth, backing them off. She shook the square, and when it settled dropped onto it like she was at a picnic in a perfectly civilized park.
“We’re staying here,” she said. “You go back. Do your job. When it’s clear, send someone for us. We’ll be safe. Go.” She flipped her hand, shooing them away. No one moved. Gemma drew her knees up and hugged them, looking like a one-woman sit-in. Ben didn’t know about the rest of the men, but it was damn clear to him she wasn’t going anywhere. Personally, he’d much rather be rescued and spend the night in a bed with a belly full of food. But, hell. He sat next to her, making it a two-person sit-in.
The three men towered over them, staring. Everything on them was camouflaged, blending with the jungle, from the rifles attached to their chests, to wicked-looking knives strapped on their legs, to body armor, pistols and faces. Camouflaged swamp monsters that come and go silently. Could break a neck, or slam a man to the ground before he even knew they were there. Seeing these guys, he had no doubts all the stories about Navy SEALs were true. Th
ey could handle anything. Anything, that is, but the admiral survivor woman. From the way they looked at Gemma they didn’t quite know what to do. Vegas made a hand signal and they turned their backs, talking quietly. Ben leaned close to Gemma and whispered, “What now?”
She shot him a look, then paused and said louder than necessary, “The SEALs are going to go back and they’re going to do their job. We are going to stay here.”
Hunter shot them a look over his shoulder. The three continued their conversation for several more moments. They turned and Vegas sighed heavily. “Ma’am, I don’t want to lose this operation any more than you want us to lose it, but your safety is—”
“Stop.” Gemma stomped on his words and rose. “Nothing is more important right now than this operation. We’re perfectly safe here.” Ben stood also. “As long as we are still and quiet. Which, I promise we will be.” Her eyes darted to the tree where the bullet ants lived. “And I’ll be careful to make the shelter where we can’t be seen or heard.”
“Ma’am, you stay here and I have no way of protecting you. I can’t leave a man here. If something happens to you, it’s on me.”
“Then suggest something, Lieutenant.” Gemma sighed and folded her arms.
Vegas rubbed the back of his neck and looked side to side. “We don’t expect the loads to come in until the high tide, between eleven thirty and twelve tonight. Right now, the three men guarding the sub are sleeping off a drunk. If the drugs come in on the midnight high tide those men will get up around ten thirty to prepare.” He paused and scratched the stubble on his chin. “You know you’ve got me between a rock and a hard place. I report your presence, the operation is over. I don’t report and something happens, my ass is grass. You come with us and get hurt, my ass is in a wood chipper.”
“What have you decided to do with us, Lieutenant?”
“Ah, shit! I don’t want to lose this. You’ll come with us. We’ll have a better chance at protecting you if something goes wrong. We’ll fix a hide where you can be comfortable. That way I know you’re safe. One of us will stay here with you and before dusk will bring you in.”
Under Fire: The Admiral Page 6
