Her Passionate Need

by Vonna Harper

  "Wait until night."

  Chapter 11

  The sun had never taken longer to set. By the time the final rays of sunset faded, cloaking the forest in darkness, Ana's stomach grumbled constantly. Although they'd had hours during which they could have debated who the sharpshooter might be, Devin hadn't said anything, and she'd followed his lead. Not once in all those hours had he relaxed his vigilance, reminding her of a wary forest animal. At first his habit of constantly scanning their surroundings had unnerved her, but finally she'd taken comfort from the fact that no one could possibly sneak up on them as long as he remained alert.

  Despite herself, she'd mentally gone over her recollection of John's friends and acquaintances, asking herself if any of them were capable of killing. She was less than crazy about a few of the men, hard-drinking loudmouth rednecks who lived and breathed hunting—or at least talking about their supposed exploits—but what stopped her from voicing her thoughts to Devin was the question of motive. None of them would want her dead. She was nothing to them—except that she was with a man driven by the need for answers and willing to do whatever it took to find them.

  The only thing she knew for sure was that Devin's best friend, a forest ranger, had been murdered near here and now someone was shooting.

  "Are you ready for this?" Devin asked, startling her with the unexpected question.

  "What are we going to do? It's getting cold. You need clothes." And if you can't get to them, we'll have to keep each other warm all night.

  "I need my pistol. And my cell phone. It's in my back pack."

  Cell phone! With it they could call in the local law officials! Why hadn't she thought about that?

  A heartbeat later her excitement faded. "Devin? I know I've said it before, but with the mountains all around, we might not get a connection."

  "I know. Aaron and I sometimes had the same problem."

  Suddenly on the verge of tears, she ran her hands over his chest, then brushed trembling lips against the side of his neck.

  "What was that about?" he asked.

  "I'm not sure. So much has been going through my mind that…"

  "And through mine, too. Ana, I'm sorry."

  "For what?"

  "Getting you mixed up in this."

  There was something incredibly, well, erotic about talking to a man she could barely see but certainly could feel since they'd been sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. And when a large element of danger was added, well, if this was some movie instead of the real thing, she'd have to tell the director that she and her co-star were going to take a break because they had some…how should she say it…some communication issues to deal with.

  Something warm and male was on her hips. With no real surprise and a liberal dosage of anticipation, she acknowledged his fingers trailing over her hipbone.

  "Did you want something?" she whispered.

  "You must know the answer to that. Unfortunately, this is hardly the time to act on it."

  So he was in the same mood, was he? Or rather they had the same thing on their minds. With a sigh, she placed her hand over his, holding it against her. "I've needed that all day," she admitted.

  "You didn't act like it."

  "I didn't?"

  "You're an incredibly strong woman. Focused on reality." With her hand piggybacked on his, he began a slow but deliberate journey to her crotch. "You didn't panic. You're hanging in there."

  "What option do I have? Besides…" She was pretty sure she'd been about to say something, but darn him, his hand was between her legs now. She cursed the jeans that had served her so well all day.

  "Besides what?" he prompted. His palm rested on her inner thigh, thumb and forefinger bracketing her crotch.

  She tightened her pelvis muscles. "You can't be thinking—"

  "You're right," he said on the tail of a sigh. "The circumstances could be a lot better. I was just testing a theory."

  The hell he was.

  "You're still grounded," he continued. "All systems working."

  "Yes, they are," she admitted as realization of what had been behind his grope dawned. "I appreciate your checking that out."

  Chuckling, he ran his finger back and forth over her cunt. Despite the dense layer of fabric, she felt. Lordy, did she. At the same time, she sensed him leaning closer and didn't know whether to applaud or simply relax and enjoy when his mouth unerringly found hers. Not asking herself whether she'd come to regret this, she pressed her lips against his, reassuring herself that he'd lived through the day and was still with her.

  Although he'd just told her that the timing was less than appropriate, she didn't so much as try to resist the temptation to slide her tongue between his teeth. She ran the tip from the base to the roof of his mouth, tasting the warm, moist cave, growing excited. For an unfathomable length of time, he accepted her exploration, and she could hear his heart beating faster. Then, groaning, he pulled away.

  "Not now. I'm sorry."

  She didn't try to speak until he'd removed his hand from between her legs. "You're right," she whispered, not because she feared the sharpshooter was nearby but because she hadn't recovered her equilibrium. "What…what do you want me to do?"

  "Stay with me. We've got to get what belongings aren't with the animals."

  "Do you think I did wrong by chasing them off?" she asked.

  "No. Whoever is out there probably would have killed them."

  Shuddering, she fell into line behind him. He was right. This was no movie they could walk out of, this was real and dangerous—deadly.

  Devin seemed blessed with a second sense that made it possible for him to find his way through the moon-illuminated night to their discarded clothing. Most of their food, unfortunately, had been on the pack animals, but she'd been wearing her backpack when she'd dismounted what seemed a lifetime ago, and there were several granola bars in it along with her marginally operating cell phone. It seemed ridiculous to be thinking of food right now but darn it, she was starving! Once she'd satisfied her belly, she could put her mind fully on another kind of hunger.

  Was she crazy, she admonished when she nearly bumped into Devin. This was hardly the time for sex. Besides, he believed her husband had had something to do with Aaron's murder. How could she have dismissed that?

  "Now," Devin whispered, "I want you to wait here."

  "Here? No! We're in this together."

  "I won't argue that, but think about it."

  He was right. As long as one of them remained in the trees, there was less chance that the sharpshooter could accomplish his mission. Besides, she knew that no amount of argument would change Devin's mind; he'd insist on taking the greatest risk.

  She touched his arm. "I'm not going to tell you to be careful because that goes without saying. I'll be waiting for you."

  He kissed the top of her head. "You don't have a choice, but thanks for saying that."

  He was gone. For maybe five seconds she couldn't think beyond the loss of him. Then she forced herself to slip a little closer to the clearing and peered around the tree she'd taken shelter behind. She could barely see him, a slow-moving shadow bent low to the ground, arms uneasy at his side as if willing a weapon to suddenly appear. Maybe she should have found something comical in the fact that the only thing he wore were his briefs, but he looked too vulnerable for that. Too precious.

  Precious? Was that how she saw him?

  Only dimly aware of what she was doing, she mentally sent her courage to this man who'd all but called her dead husband a murderer. Maybe he'd sense her message and that would steel his resolve, remind him to be careful. One moment she wanted to yell at him to hurry; the next she was begging him to go slower, not take any chances. He had to live!

  All too soon she lost sight of him. She began counting out the seconds, but when she got to fifty, she couldn't stand it and stopped. The breeze was picking up, rattling the tree branches and hopefully making it more difficult for anyone to hear him. Unfortunately, the constant r
ustle and groaning also made it impossible for him to detect a sinister presence.

  She'd jammed a finger in her mouth and was gnawing it when finally he came back into view. He now had on some clothes, and she thought he was wearing shoes. He carried something that she assumed was his backpack. She couldn't be sure but it looked as if he had on his gunbelt.

  Although she didn't want to, she looked up at where the shots had come from, but she couldn't see that far. Good. That means that bastard can't either.

  She watched the distance between her and Devin slowly decrease. He'd nearly reached the edge of the clearing when he suddenly straightened and turned toward the cliff. Fear pounded into her.

  The shot sang through the night, filling her ears. Despite the terrible need to scream, she clamped her hands over her mouth. At the same instant, Devin dropped to the ground. He didn't move.

  Oh God! What do I do? Please, please don't die!

  Rocking back and forth, she fought for a sense of direction but couldn't move a muscle. She was positive she was ready for another rifle blast; still, when it came, she gasped, and her legs threatened to give out. She sucked in a deep breath, then analyzed. Nothing…no smell of blood…not that that meant anything.

  Get up! Please, get up.

  Devin remained as motionless as the rocks. Sick at heart, she started toward him.

  "No. Don't," he hissed.

  "Devin?" she whispered back. Had her heart stopped beating? "You're—are you all right?"

  "Stay where you are." He still hadn't so much as flexed a muscle. "The bullets didn't come close, but maybe that bastard doesn't know it."

  I don't care. Just come to me. "What if he hears…?"

  Devin didn't respond, and she ground her teeth together. A minute ago she'd been rejoicing at the thought of how soon they'd be reunited. Now he seemed a world away. She couldn't guess how long he remained where he was, and when at length he reached out and took hold of the backpack that had scooted away as he hit the ground, she fought the need to yell at him to forget it. After tucking his belongings against him, he began wiggling toward her. His movements reminded her of Army recruits sliding under barriers during training—only this was real.

  As for whether the sharpshooter could see what he was doing. . .

  It took forever but finally, finally, he was back among the trees and bushes. She waited until she was sure he was hidden from the would-be killer, then stumbled toward him and embraced him and his burden.

  "You're all right?" she gasped. "Please, are you all right?"

  "I'm fine, Ana. I didn't mean to scare you."

  She couldn't help but laugh although hysteria and not amusement was behind the sound. "Well," she whispered as she continued to hold him. "You did scare me. Promise you won't again."

  "I'll promise, but it might be a lie."

  * * * * *

  When, finally, he was sure they were where their unseen enemy couldn't spot them, Devin dropped his backpack and the rest of her clothes and then sat cross-legged, one hand on his pistol. Ana joined him but didn't say anything.

  "I checked your cell phone," he said. "The battery's dead."

  "What about yours?"

  "I couldn't make a connection."

  "Oh."

  A man trained in law enforcement, a man who'd gone undercover three times in the past two years, should have a Rambo complex, shouldn't he? Rambo laughed in the face of danger, then stuck a knife between his teeth and struck off to vanquish evil forces. However, he wasn't Rambo. Quite the opposite, his stomach felt uneasy in a way that had nothing to do with hunger, and it would take awhile before he trusted his legs to hold him.

  He didn't want Ana to be the one responsible for his newfound determination to stay alive, but she was, damn her!

  In an attempt to keep himself from telling her that, he indicated her fanny pack. "I'm sorry. I stepped on it before I saw it."

  "You did fine. Wonderful." She unfastened a buckle, reached into the pocket and pulled out several flattened containers. "Energy bars," she said, handing him one of them. "I've been thinking about them for hours."

  "I hoped you had something to eat in there. All I have in my back pack is a ground cover and blanket, binoculars and. . ."

  "What does he want?" she demanded. "Why hasn't he left?"

  "Because we're still alive."

  The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them, but would remaining quiet change anything? Instead of shuddering, she sighed.

  "In the morning, we're going to have to try to leave," she said.

  He could have said that his intention was to take advantage of the dark to do that; he didn't because he hadn't accomplished what he'd come here for…learning who had murdered his best friend.

  "Did you hear me?" she asked around a mouthful. "Coming here, I chose trails the animals could handle, but now we can go a more direct route."

  "You can."

  For a moment the only sound came from the night creatures. "You aren't leaving, are you?" she said softly.

  "I can't."

  "Even if it kills you?"

  It won't. But he didn't say that because it might wind up being a lie. "Ana, I don't know how whoever is out there learned who I am and why I'm here. It doesn't matter. All I care about is the truth. Justice for Aaron."

  "You've already said that."

  Did she understand? Did she have any idea of the depth of his commitment to Aaron? Maybe not, because he wasn't sure he fully comprehended it. He'd been fumbling with the wrapper on what she'd given him but hadn't gotten anywhere. Frustrated, he yanked.

  She took it from him and, using her teeth, finished the job.

  "Eat," she told him. "Then we'll talk."

  "Argue, you mean? There's nothing to talk about. I want you where you'll be safe."

  "That's what I want for you."

  Of all the things she could have said, nothing could have touched him more. After what he'd accused her husband of, he wouldn't blame her for hating him. Instead, she'd handed him her body.

  "Devin? I'm not leaving either."

  "Yes, you are! I won't have you risk—"

  "It's my life. I'll do what I want with it. And right now that means not leaving."

  "Why not?"

  "Because you aren't the only one who needs answers."

  If she hadn't taken this moment to slide her fingers over his hand, maybe he could have mustered arguments to try to change her mind. But when the latest shots had whizzed around him, he'd been left with an undeniable message: life was precious; he wasn't ready to surrender it. She had become the primary reason why.

  Instead of shaking free, he laced his fingers through hers, leaving his thumb on the outside so he could massage her palm. He deliberately kept the contact feather-light. He wouldn't lie to himself and say he didn't want to have sex at this moment, but he could wait.

  "I keep thinking this isn't happening," she told him. "That I'm going to wake up and tell someone about this wild dream I had."

  "What someone?"

  "You're right," she said after a long silence. "There's no one here except you and me."

  And whoever is trying to kill us.

  Lifting her hand, he ran his tongue over her knuckles. At first, she tensed, but then she relaxed; her sigh drifted around him.

  "I feel so alive," she whispered as he continued to explore the contours of the back of her hand. "As if my skin has been rubbed with the softest silk or caressed with feathers. Is that what danger does? Kick up all the senses?"

  Danger had a lot to do with the way he felt, but not everything. The truth of the matter was, he couldn't fathom trading this moment with her for plush surroundings and an army of bodyguards. She hadn't complained about having to sleep on the ground and not once had she mentioned her hunger or thirst.

  Also, she hadn't come after him demanding to know how he could accuse her dead husband of anything. Yes, initially she'd expressed disbelief, but she no longer pounded at it…either beca
use she knew talking wouldn't change anything, or because he'd planted doubts in her mind.

  "Devin?"

  "What?"

  "I just…I just need you to know how relieved I am that you're safe."

  He placed her hand on his knee and began running his fingers over her wrist. "I'm sorry I put you through that."

  "Did…did you get all your stuff?"

  "Yeah. My old cell phone—the one with Aaron's last messages on it—is in my back pack."

  "Oh."

  He was up to her forearm now, his fingertips testing her soft flesh. Finding a small scratch, he caressed it. She hadn't said anything but that didn't mean he could ignore what was on the old phone, could talk himself out of getting her to listen to it.

  He just wasn't ready to go down that road.

  "What's going on between us?" She gave a slight jerk but didn't really try to pull away.

  "I'm not sure. Maybe a celebration of life."

  "I understand." Warmth coated her voice. She rested her free hand on his knee. "I feel the same way."

  "Enough to…"

  "I don't know."

  "Good enough," he told her because he wasn't sure whether he wanted sex either. Sure, physically he had no problem with the idea. Despite the day's adventures, or more likely because of them, he couldn't think of a better way to end things. Unfortunately, they weren't animals in heat. They'd each brought their brains and hearts to the equation.

  That's what he'd do, listen to his heart and body and thus silence his mind. If he was successful, maybe his cock would end up inside her hot cunt and as long as it was there, nothing else would matter.

  Eager to test his theory, he settled his back against a boulder, then drew her to his side. She'd put on her shirt but hadn't finished buttoning it. Just the same, he didn't immediately reach for her breasts. Instead, he pressed the flat of his hand against the base of her throat.

  "You have a pulse there," he told her. "Strong. Steady."

  "Thank you, doctor." She moved his hand to her neck and guided his fingers around the soft column. "Do you understand what this is about?"

  He understood his quickening heartbeat and the twitch in his cock. "Tell me."