by Anne Stuart
When he was finished he sat back on his heels. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to walk tomorrow….”
“I can walk.”
“Maybe we should wait a day.”
“Is it safe?”
“No.”
She looked at the baby, now sound asleep on the discarded shirt. Dusk had settled down around the jungle, and Reilly felt an odd chill run across his skin. “I can walk,” she said again, and he had no doubt she would, if she had to do it barefoot on hot coals.
“All right,” he said mildly enough, not interested in arguing with her. “Why don’t you go lie down and I’ll get you something to eat? Unless you need to use the woods?”
“Use the woods?”
“Go to the bathroom, lady. If you want I can carry you.”
She blushed. A deep, embarrassed red. He stared in fascination. Why would she blush over something like that?
“I can manage,” she said stiffly, starting to climb to her feet.
She didn’t get far. She fell back with a muffled cry of pain, and he caught her. He didn’t bother arguing with her—she was ridiculously small and light, and he simply scooped her up in his arms and carried her a little way into the brush, dumping her on her butt.
“Call me when you’re done,” he said.
“I don’t need—”
“If you don’t call me, I won’t let you out of my sight again.” His voice was implacable.
She glared at him, some of the dull apathy of pain fading. “You’re a bully, aren’t you?”
“Be glad of it, lady. It’ll keep you and the kid alive.”
It took her a moment. “I am glad of it,” she said in a quiet voice. “Thank you, Reilly. For everything.”
He didn’t like her softness. He didn’t want her gratitude. He wanted her smart-mouthed and fighting him.
He turned his back, walking away from her. Wishing he could put the memory of those deceptively innocent eyes out of his mind with as little effort.
Chapter Five
She didn’t like being carried by Reilly. She didn’t like being touched by him. His hands were big, strong, callused. His body was warm, sleek, muscled, and he hadn’t worn a shirt. When he’d scooped her up and carried her through the woods he’d doubtless thought of her as nothing more than another burden, like the too-heavy pack.
But she couldn’t dismiss the sensations so easily. The feel of that warm, smooth skin beneath hers was disturbing. Upsetting. It took her a full five minutes to get her senses back in order, to calm the emotions that roiled up inside her.
He was there to help her. The fact that he caused all sorts of strange, inexplicable reactions within her was simply the result of loneliness and stress. She needed to remind herself that while he was far from the friendliest soul in the universe, his motives were beyond noble and downright heroic. She needed to remember that, and not let her emotions and her unlikely irritation get in the way.
She didn’t make the mistake of not calling him when she was finished. He wasn’t a man who made empty threats, and she had little doubt he’d stand over her while she accomplished her calls of nature if she didn’t do as he told her.
He picked her up again as if she weighed no more than the baby. He’d pulled on a dun-colored T-shirt, which made things marginally better, but it still took all of Carlie’s concentration to ignore the bulge and play of his muscles when he lifted her.
The gathering dusk sent eerie shadows around the small clearing. It was then that she noticed the sleeping bags, side by side beneath the makeshift tent. The baby lay on his stomach, sound asleep in the middle of the conjoined beds.
“Are you sure we can’t go any farther tonight?” she asked, suddenly nervous.
“You aren’t in any shape.” He dropped her down on one end of the bedroll. “Crawl in.”
“What about snakes?” She glanced around, trying to appear cool. “Or jaguars?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep you safe from jungle beasts.”
She peered up at him. He looked rather like a magnificent beast himself, looming over her in the darkness. “How?”
“I’ll be keeping watch.” He sat on the ground and began to crawl beneath the tarp. She watched him for a moment, disconcerted.
“How are you going to do that if you sleep?”
“I’m not going to sleep.”
“Then why are you lying down?”
“Because I’m tired,” he said, stretching out. And that was when she noticed the big, heavy handgun he’d placed by his head.
“But if you’re tired and you lie down, then won’t you…”
“Lady,” he said wearily, “I was in the military for more than fifteen years. I was trained for combat, and I’ve spent the better part of those years in places where I couldn’t afford to let up for a minute. I’ve never fallen asleep during guard duty and I’m not about to make a habit of it. Now get in the damned bed.”
All her noble resolve vanished in a wave of pure annoyance. “What if I don’t want to sleep with you?”
He closed his eyes in weary exasperation. “If I wanted to get in your pants you’d know it. For now all I want is for you to be quiet and climb in your sleeping bag. Preferably without waking the baby.”
She didn’t have any choice in the matter, and she knew it. Timothy lay sleeping peacefully enough, and Reilly looked as if he found her about as interesting as a day-old slug. She slid down, stretching full length on the sleeping bag and closed her eyes determinedly.
She listened to the silence, trying to will herself to sleep. Until she heard the unmistakable sound of chewing.
Her eyes flew open. He was stretched out beside her, and he was eating something brown and nasty looking that nevertheless had her stomach churning in hunger.
“Are you planning on sharing that?”
He glanced over at her, and there was just a hint of amusement in his dark eyes. “I didn’t think you were interested in food.”
“I’m interested. What is it?”
“Dried beef jerky. We also have an assortment of dried prunes, dried apples and trail mix.”
“Yummy,” she said wryly. “Where is it?”
“Ask me nicely.”
She reached out and snatched the piece of meat from his hand, scuttling out of his way before he could grab it back. Between them the baby slept on, secure between the two battling adults.
“I don’t suppose you have any coffee?” she asked after a moment.
“All out. If we manage to make it to the jeep tomorrow we should be able to get supplies. Maybe even a bed for the night, though I’m not certain I want to risk it. Are you going to be able to walk?”
She wiggled her feet carefully. They hurt, but the salve Reilly had rubbed into them seemed to have done wonders. “I think so.”
The night was growing darker around them, so that she could barely see him in the small confines of the makeshift tent. She heard him move, and a small pack of trail mix landed in front of her. “Where’s your canteen?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Besides, I’m not particularly thirsty.”
“Damn it, woman, you can’t go losing your canteen,” he snapped. “And I don’t care whether you’re thirsty or not. In this climate you can get dehydrated real fast, and then I’d have two helpless creatures on my hands.”
“Reilly, my name isn’t woman, it isn’t lady, and it isn’t princess. It’s Carlie.”
“It’s Caterina Morrissey,” he reminded her. “And I don’t particularly like that fact.”
“Why not?”
“Maybe it reminds me that a buddy is dead, and that before he died he got suckered by a spoiled jet-setter.” He shoved his canteen at her.
She didn’t make the mistake of not taking a long drink. She might not be able to see him clearly in the dark, but she wouldn’t put excellent night vision past his extraordinary list of capabilities. What in the world had Caterina ever done? Her deathbed confession, a talk shared between tw
o unlikely friends and far from a religious ritual, hadn’t been specific. It had been the weary cry of a wasted life that had once been full of promise, and it had broken Carlie’s heart.
“Maybe you should think instead that he left a son behind,” she said in a relatively calm voice. “And the spoiled jet-setter who suckered him is responsible for something of him continuing in this world.”
“Maybe,” he said, not sounding particularly convinced. “Go to sleep. I’m willing to bet the baby won’t be sleeping through the night, and I sure as hell don’t want to be feeding him and changing his diapers.”
“You have already,” she said sleepily, stretching out on the sleeping bag. “I’m surprised I haven’t heard you complain before. You’re very good with babies.”
“I’m good at what I need to do. And I don’t complain if things can’t be helped. You might work on that, princess.”
“Have you heard me complain yet?”
“No.”
“You won’t.”
There was silence for a long moment. She waited, half expecting him to come up with another barbed comment. But her eyes drifted closed, and she told herself he wasn’t about to give an inch.
And neither was she.
SHE WOKE DURING THE NIGHT. She lay still in the darkness, listening to the light, peaceful sound of the baby sleeping beside her. Listening to the steady, even breathing of the man who lay just on the other side.
She could feel his body heat in those close quarters. She could smell the scent of coffee and gun oil and sweat that clung to both of them. She lay there and listened, wondering if he slept. Wondering if they’d be safe from marauding beasts, wondering if a bushmaster was going to slither into her sleeping bag and…
“Go back to sleep, Carlie.” His voice was nothing more than a deep whisper of sound. “I’m not going to let anything happen to either of you.”
She should have resented him. She had learned to put her trust in nothing but God, and a hostile man in camouflage with a gun wasn’t the first likely person she’d feel like cozying up with.
But fate, or God, wasn’t taking her feelings into consideration. And despite her fears, her doubts, her misgivings, she knew perfectly well that the man lying beside her would be true to his word. Nothing would get past him. Nothing would harm the baby. Nothing would harm her.
Except, perhaps, for this unwanted excursion into the real world, complete with men and guns and life.
But she would survive. And for the time being she was perfectly safe, with Reilly watching over them. Closing her eyes, she sank back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
THEY WERE ON THE TRAIL by a little past dawn the next morning. Reilly wasn’t in the mood to be impressed, but he had always considered himself a fair man, and Billy’s little princess had done herself proud. She could walk, gingerly, but with the bandages she’d wrapped around her feet those oversize running shoes fit her. She fed and changed the baby, ate trail mix without a murmur and even managed to look gorgeous when she struggled to her feet and began to hitch the kid into that sling-type thing she wore.
“Think you can make it another seven miles?” he asked, shouldering both their packs.
He saw her blue eyes blink at the number seven, but apart from that she showed no distress. “Yes.”
“Good.” He started through the forest, leaving her to follow along behind him.
He moderated his pace, just enough to make it easier on her, not so much that it would endanger them. Not so much that she would notice. Carlie Morrissey was turning out to be a far cry from the woman he’d expected, but she did have her share of pride. She wouldn’t like knowing he was going easy on her. Hell, he didn’t like knowing it, either.
They walked in silence for the better part of an hour, listening as the jungle awakened around them. The screech of the macaws, the random scream of the jaguar floated on the thick, liquid air, and Reilly felt the sweat pool at the base of his spine.
Damn, he hated the jungle. Hated this smothering heat, where a man couldn’t breathe without filling his lungs full of ooze. He knew that accounted for part of his bad attitude toward Carlie. He wanted to be back on his mountaintop in Colorado, not hacking his way through the undergrowth with a woman and a baby behind him. He’d had enough of jungles in his life. Enough of heat. He wasn’t sure which he hated more—the steamy tropical forests of Latin America, or the dry, searing heat of the Middle Eastern deserts. He’d left the army because he was fed up with heat, fed up with stupid little wars and innocent people getting in the way. So where did he end up? Smack-dab in a stupid little war, in the heat, trying to save a couple of innocent people.
He owed Billy. He owed him his life, he owed him anything Billy would ask. It was too late for that. But bringing his kid and his playgirl wife back to the States would even out a lot of old debts, even if he paid them beyond the grave. He could put up with a little heat and discomfort for that, couldn’t he?
What he was having a hard time putting up with was Caterina Morrissey. He was fine when he thought of her as Caterina, when he didn’t look so closely at her, when he kept himself wound so tightly that nothing could sneak through.
But when he looked at her, really looked, at the absurdly innocent eyes and vulnerable mouth, at the small, coltish body and the instinctive, natural grace, at the love she poured on that red-faced little baby, he found himself thinking other, dangerous thoughts. Like how Billy must have misjudged her. Like what a lucky man he’d been. Like what would she taste like if he kissed her. Like how long did it take for a small woman like her to recover from the physical trauma of childbirth.
He hadn’t thought much about having kids of his own. He’d been too busy, there’d been no special woman and his horde of nieces and nephews had provided him with more than enough kids to last him.
But if he did get married, did find a woman to share his mountaintop, he’d want her to be just a little like Carlie. Not Caterina, the spoiled bitch, who’d married Billy, left him when she grew bored, and only came back when she found out she was unexpectedly pregnant and her cozy little life in San Pablo was collapsing.
No, he’d want her to be like Carlie, who snapped at him, trudged along behind him uncomplaining, and who loved her baby.
The terrain that comprised most of San Pablo was like no other place in the world. Half rain forest, half jungle, it was home to pit vipers and jaguars and hundreds of varieties of flesh-eating fish and birds that had never been cataloged or identified by the scientists who’d braved the revolutions and the natural dangers of the land to document the wildlife. And among all those deadly species, none were quite so threatening as the fanatical armies of San Pablo, the black-shirted goon squads of Hector Mendino and Endor Morales, his notorious general, and the ragtag rebels who wouldn’t think twice about slaughtering an innocent baby who might someday pose a threat.
He didn’t like it here, Reilly thought sourly, trudging onward. Hell, he didn’t like it anywhere nowadays, except for Colorado. He’d spent too much time in San Pablo in the past, but he’d forgotten how bad the climate could really be. He wanted out of here, and he wanted out, fast.
He glanced back at Carlie. Her face was pale beneath the hot pink flags of sunburn against her cheeks, and her eyes were dull with exhaustion. She walked slowly, without limping, the baby cradled against her, and he wondered how much longer she was going to manage to keep going. If worse came to worst he could always carry her. She was a tiny thing, hardly big enough to have given birth to even a baby as small as Timothy. He couldn’t imagine her lying beneath someone like Billy Morrissey, who’d been built like a linebacker.
He quickly shut off that line of thought. It was none of his damned business whether she was beneath or on top. The sex life of Caterina Morrissey was none of his business at all.
He halted abruptly, then turned, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She looked up at him, her clear blue eyes dull and shadowed by exhaustion, her soft mouth grim. “We just stopped
an hour ago, Reilly,” she said in that calm voice of hers. “You don’t need to pamper me—I don’t need another rest yet.”
She needed a hell of a lot more than a rest, but he didn’t bother pointing that out to her. “We aren’t resting,” he said. “We’re here.” He jerked his head toward the underbrush.
She peered around him. “Where? I don’t see anything.”
“I do. The jeep’s still in there. Just give me a couple of minutes to check for sabotage and then we can start out of here. With luck we might make Dos Libros by nightfall. There’s a cantina there, run by an old scoundrel named Dutchy. We could probably commandeer a bed for the night.”
“One bed?”
His mouth curved in a wry smile. “This time I’ll do the sleeping and you can keep watch.”
She had the most expressive blue eyes. He could see every thought, every emotion as it flitted through. She was looking up at him, judging him, measuring him. “You look tired,” she said flatly. “You had me thinking you were invulnerable.”
“I get tired,” he said. “I get hungry, I get thirsty, I get horny. I just don’t do anything about it if it’s not convenient.”
She still didn’t respond as he expected her to. “You didn’t say whether you ever got lonely.”
He thought for a moment, of the remote mountain cabin, half a continent away, with only the animals and his work for company. “No,” he said flatly. Lying.
She didn’t call him on it, as he’d expected her to. She simply nodded, sinking onto the thick grass and holding the sleeping baby against her. He handed her his canteen, and she took it without argument.
By the time he’d managed to clear the camouflaging brush away from the jeep, check over the entire thing and load up the packs, Carlie looked as if she were half-asleep. She barely made a sound when he loaded her into the front seat, not even protesting when Reilly took the sleeping baby away from her and strapped him in the infant seat he’d stashed with the gear. He almost teased her, but she sat in the cracked leather seat, and if the old army vehicle hadn’t come equipped with webbed seat belts to hold her in place he expected she might very well have slipped right onto the floor.