by Lindsay McKenna - Course of Action: The Rescue: Jaguar NightAmazon Gold
He gave her a steady look, his voice serious. “I’d never laugh at you, Aly.” He could see her becoming shy. “Tell me. What’s in your scrapbook?”
“Silly stuff.... Just rooms of a house. I used to go through magazines my mom bought and find furniture, rugs and stuff and create rooms.”
“Rooms you’d like to live in?”
“Yes.”
“What did it look like?” Josh knew a room, a house, reflected the deeply personal, vulnerable side of any person. He watched her squirm, unsure about sharing something so private.
“I have this dream...about a house I want someday.... I see it in a beautiful green meadow with lots of wildflowers. I see the Rocky Mountains and they have snow on them. My house... Well, it would be a white two-story home with green trim. Inside, I guess my favorite room would be my bedroom. I’d paint it a pale lilac color and the windows would have ruffled crochet-like curtains... Very old-fashioned curtains... Kind of romantic... They’d change shapes in the breeze of the open window. My bed would be a four-poster made out of mahogany and there’d be a frame above it to hold beautiful white, gauzy curtains that would enclose the bed. The quilt would be dark purple, gold, red and pale lavender. I’d have tons of pillows on it because I love to lie on my stomach and read books. And if I wanted to fall asleep there, I could.”
She felt embarrassed sharing her childhood dream. Anxiously, she watched Josh’s face as he pulled the second dry sock over her foot.
“It sounds like a little girl’s room that her mother might have given her as a place to dream good dreams of your future,” he said, his voice thick with barely held emotions. Retrieving her damp boots, he put each one back on her and quickly laced them up. He lifted his chin. “I like that room a lot. Maybe, one day, you’ll get one just like it.” He saw the radiance in her eyes dissolve, sadness replacing it. Who stole Aly’s dreams?
He patted her boot. “You’re good to go. Feel like standing? Walking around a bit to see how your feet feel now?” He rose and offered Aly his hand. She took it, her hand soft in his. Something had shifted between them. Josh wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt it and saw it in Aly’s very readable face. She couldn’t hide an emotion if she wanted to.
Aly pulled her hand out of his when she was on her feet. She moved around a bit, walking back and forth. “They feel great, Josh. Thank you...” She stopped in front of him, gazing earnestly up into his face. He had a two-day growth of beard and it accentuated the curves and hollows of his face. He looked even more the warrior he was than before.
And then Aly did the unthinkable, something she’d wanted to do since she’d met Josh. She threw her arms around his shoulders, stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against the hard line of his mouth. He froze for a moment. Then Aly heard him groan, felt his arms sweep around her, hauling her tightly against him, his mouth opening, hungrily taking hers without apology.
Her world spun to a heated halt, the danger forgotten, just his male scent, the power of his mouth exploring hers slowly, with need that matched her own. Her breath caught as he deepened their kiss, opening her lips, feeling his strength as he took her hard and swift. She moaned a little, tightening her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts against his chest, wanting so much more from him. Every feminine sense within her told her Josh would be a tender lover because right now, as his mouth glided hungrily across hers, sipping, exploring, tasting, he monitored just how much strength he used in meeting her lips.
His hands roved gently up and down her spine and splayed out against her hips, tugging her firmly against him. She felt his thick erection. Another moan trapped in her throat and a scalding heat enveloped her lower body, dampness beginning to collect between her thighs.
Aly had never been kissed so thoroughly, so slowly and with such hunger in her life. Her nostrils flared and she dragged in Josh’s male scent. It was like an aphrodisiac to her straining body that melted against his powerful, lean body. Her romantic and idealistic world collided with reality for the first time in her life. She’d been kissed before. But not like this. Josh cherished her mouth, gave back to her. It drove tears into Aly’s tightly shut eyes as she realized what was happening. A man who gave. Who didn’t take. But shared. Her entire body shimmered with heat, with a hunger so keen that it made her ache.
Aly felt him reluctantly ease his mouth from her wet lips, barely opening her eyes, drowning in the narrowed gold of his. They were breathing raggedly, as if they’d been running for two hours straight. She luxuriated in his hands moving across her back, her hips. Her heart told her he was silently worshipping her, that he loved her, didn’t just like her. How was that possible?
Was her reaction related to survivor sex? Stockholm syndrome? She didn’t care as she drowned helplessly in his burning gold gaze as he caressed her cheek, leaned down, kissed her brow, her nose and then placed a light, sweet kiss to her lips one more time. Her knees felt wobbly and she leaned heavily against him, wishing this moment would never stop.
“I wish,” Josh told her in a growl, moving his hands to her shoulders, easing her away from him, “we were anywhere but here.”
“And...what would you do?” she asked, her voice wispy-sounding even to her. The man’s kiss had spun her into oblivion and she was still embraced in nothing but pleasurable heat and light.
Josh gave her a very male smile, caressing her hair, moving strands behind her ear. “Angel, you and I would be in bed and I wouldn’t let you go anywhere except to be in my arms.”
Closing her eyes, she gripped his biceps, her body glowing, needy and wanting the exact same thing. “It’s a dream,” Aly whispered unsteadily, opening her eyes, holding his narrowing gaze, that predator-like look. She saw his mouth twist into a half smile.
“Oh, no, that’s no dream, Angel. It’s going to come true if I have anything to say about it....”
* * *
It was dusk when they’d exited a stream that Aly swore they’d trotted, slipped and fallen in for more than three hours. She knew why Josh was doing it. She was too slow and Duarte’s men had to be thrown off their trail as much as possible, slowing them down, forcing them to stop to look for their tracks.
All day they’d trotted, walked and trotted some more. To her relief, the birds and monkeys were singing and calling. If they ever stopped, she knew Duarte’s soldiers were close. Too close. And they could be found. Captured. Killed. The threat was enough for her to push through the pain in her feet without regard to them. Skin would heal in time. All they had to do was to make it to that Riverine boat and get picked up. Get taken to safety.
“Let’s stop,” Josh told her, pulling her out of the stream. He spotted a flying buttress tree up on a slight slope. It was a good place. Height over the enemy was always an advantage in his world of strategy and tactics.
This time, when he settled Aly down among the roots that hid them, the first thing he did was take off her combat boots, pull the sopping wet socks off and air her feet. She started to protest but he gave her a look that made her sit back quietly.
Josh quickly peeled away the wet dressings and dried off her feet with a towel he kept in his ruck. He then smeared heavy dollops of antibiotic cream across each blister, after checking to make sure they weren’t infected, and rebandaged her feet. He retrieved another set of dry socks from the ruck, pulled them on her feet. Lastly, he put the only two plastic bags he had around each foot so everything remained dry for this stop.
“Thanks,” she said, taking the MRE he handed her. “I really think you missed your calling. You’re such a mother hen.”
“My nature,” he said, meeting her smile. God, he ached to see her smile more often. There was such seriousness in her expression all the time. Aly had grown up and matured long before her time. He wondered if she’d had much of a childhood after the accident.
He settled near her feet, watching her shadowed face in the dusk. The insects were starting to sing, the birds quieting for the coming night. Monkeys, too, were lessen
ing their calls to one another.
“It’s nice to be on the receiving end of care,” she admitted.
“Usually, it’s the other way around, isn’t it? You’re the nurse caring for your patients.”
“I love what I do. It’s my calling. I don’t mind giving care to others. It makes me feel good.”
He nodded, his mouth pursed for a moment. Then he looked at her. “But do you enjoy being given back to, Aly?” Because after age twelve he was fairly certain Aly had been slowly emotionally robbed by a father who was rarely in her life. Children often thought if they weren’t loved openly by their parents, hugged, kissed, that there was something wrong with them. That they were unlovable. Aly had reflexed into the opposite reaction of always helping others but never taking care of herself. Or, worse, never able to accept love from another. Josh hoped she hadn’t been damaged that badly.
Giving him a thoughtful look, Aly said, “I used to get a massage every week. Get a manicure and pedicure. Does that count?” She saw him grin.
“It does. It’s important that you care for yourself, Aly.”
“Why do you think I don’t?”
He pointed at her feet. “This. It’s enough to make me think that you ignore yourself in important times or a crisis. You put yourself last. Not first.”
She frowned, lowering her lashes, feeling through his gruff answer. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to slow us down any more than I have already, Josh.”
He nodded. “Your survival self isn’t online, Aly.” He said it softly, without judgment, and he saw her looking at him strangely, as if not understanding. “You were left in a hospital for months without your father, weren’t you?”
“Yes. But he had a company to run. He couldn’t be with me, Josh. He was responsible for a hundred and twenty Marines.”
He winced inwardly. Aly honestly believed what she said. “Your father’s first responsibility was to you. Not his company, Aly. You are his daughter. These Marines work for him. He should have made you a priority, that’s all.”
She looked away, her mouth compressing, her fingers knitted nervously in her lap. God, how he wanted to sweep her into his arms, love her, show her how much he was falling in love with her.
He moved toward his ruck because he thought he saw tears in her eyes. He couldn’t be sure and felt guilty for making her feel worse than she already did. Sometimes he wasn’t perfect at timing serious conversations. This was one of them.
“Come on,” he urged her teasingly. “Time to eat. I need you to eat all of it, Aly. It will give you the strength you need for the final push tomorrow morning. We meet the Riverine boat at 10:00 a.m., if all goes according to plan.” If Duarte’s men didn’t catch up to them... But Josh wasn’t about to go there with Aly. She was stressed out enough. He’d carried the worry, not her.
As they ate, he could tell she was toughening up, forcing away a lot of emotions he’d noticed in her expression. Her gaze was clear, no sign of tears. Damn, she hid so much and so well. Their fingers touched. He hungrily absorbed the contact with her. Her eyes widened slightly and warmth suddenly came into them, warmth and...something else. Something he needed to see: desire for him.
Josh covertly watched how delicately Aly opened the packages and pouches. She had such long, slender hands. Josh kept wondering what it would feel like for her to move those fingers across his body. Aly had surprised the hell out of him earlier by kissing him. She had gumption, there was no question. Had she sensed how long he’d wanted to kiss her? Aly was attuned to people in part because she was a wonderful, caring nurse. Not everyone could put into words where they had pain and a good nurse could sense it, know where the person hurt. The other part, Josh decided, was just her. Aly was a sensitive being living in a brutal world where he was sure, it played hell on her vulnerability. Her romantic, idealistic world, as she called it.
As they ate Josh asked, “How do you see your life unfolding, Aly?” He searched her face as she stopped eating, considering his question. And then she shook her head and gave him a wry look.
“You’re the only man I’ve ever met who has asked me such a question.”
“It’s an important question if you really care about someone you like, Aly.” There, he’d laid his cards on the table to her. He saw surprise and then hope in her expression. Why hope? Hope that they continued vectoring toward one another? She was an interior person, an introvert. Shy. Hesitant to speak her mind. She didn’t say much, but she sure as hell showed how she felt. She went after what mattered to her. His mouth still tingled in memory of her soft, opening lips sliding across his. His lower body had never forgotten it and, damn, he’d ached all day, wanting more. It was a hell of a place to be in with her because Josh wanted her in his life long after this op was completed—assuming they got out of this alive.
Chapter 6
Just as Josh finished contacting Charlene Dawson, Riverine captain, the first bullets went singing over their heads. He gripped the sat phone, grabbed Aly and shoved her in front of him.
“Run, straight ahead,” he roared.
Panic shot through Aly. She jerked her head to the left; saw Josh talking on the sat phone while pulling his M-4 off his shoulder. The Amazon River was one mile away. Straight ahead.
The Riverine force had just landed, waiting for them. God, she’d thought they were home free. But they weren’t! Sobbing, she dug the toes of her water-soaked boots into the cushiony soil, wind racing past her. More bullets ripped through the air around her. She heard another rifle, probably Josh’s, firing, a deep-throated sound compared to the others.
Wind tore out of her mouth as she ran, dodging roots and spindly trees. There! Ahead she could see the flat, olive-green surface of the Amazon. Just as she leaped down a small hill, she stumbled, falling end over end.
Aly gave a cry as she felt her ankle shoot with pain. Scrambling, she got to her knees, hearing more gunfire. It was constant and a new, worse terror streaked through her. Josh was alone out there! How many of Duarte’s men were attacking his position? She slowed and then realized with a sinking feeling that she didn’t even know how to fire a rifle. She ran, catching sight of the Riverine boat. It had a huge .50 caliber machine gun near the prow. Five men were leaping off the small Navy boat, fully armed, heading her direction.
Gasping, Aly screamed and waved her arms, trying to get their attention.
She did. She saw them change course, heading at a dead run toward her.
“Josh is alone!” she yelled, jerking her finger in the direction where she’d left him. “Help him! Help him!”
One of the Navy Riverines peeled off while the other four attacked the hill, disappearing over it to give Josh support.
“Ms. Landon?” the young Navy petty officer said, standing in front of her, shielding her from any possible bullets coming their way.
“Yes. Go! Go help Josh! I can see the boat. Go!” she pleaded, pushing him away. And before he could reach out to grab her, Aly twisted away, racing for the boat where she saw two more crew members.
Aly slowed as she saw a woman with short red hair and brown eyes gesture sharply to her to get up the gangplank. The woman held a rifle at the ready. The other crew member was standing tensely behind the machine gun, waiting. Aly staggered up the ramp, pain ripping into her ankle. Sobbing for breath, she felt her knees go wobbly as she leaped into the boat.
“Ms. Landon,” the woman yelled, “get down. Flat, on the deck! Cover your head with your hands. Now!”
Whoever she was, Aly instantly obeyed, finding a place near the rear of the bobbing craft and falling hard to the deck. Panting, covering her head, she heard a lot of gunfire erupt; the whole jungle deafened with the sound. The echoes of the bullets whined around the boat. She couldn’t see anything. Where was Josh? Oh, God, don’t let him be killed!
Suddenly she heard the heavy thunking of boots across the gangplank. She jerked her head up as Josh leaped into the boat, his attention toward the shore.
Before Aly could dive to the deck, Josh placed his body over hers, jamming her head down beneath him so she couldn’t be hit by return fire. Aly cried out, felt his weight crush down on her. The slow fire of his rifle shook her, and she felt it jerk through him. The sounds of gunfire swelled as the boat left the bank, the engines roaring at full-speed, flying across the smooth surface of the Amazon in the opposite direction.
Barely able to breathe, Aly felt Josh move and get off her. The firing had stopped. The noise of the growling engines churning water vibrated through the tough Riverine craft.
“Aly!” Josh knelt at her side, his eyes narrowed, his voice shaken. “Are you all right? Any wounds?”
She shook her head, grabbing his hand and sitting up, her back against the craft. “N-no, I’m okay. Are you okay?” She clung to his sweaty, dirty face, his chest heaving with exertion, the M-4 ready in his right hand.
“I’m okay. Stay where you are. I’ll be right back.” He got up and headed toward the prow of the boat. The Riverine crew was taking their stations, manning their various duties now. Aly risked a look back at the shore. Six men were standing there, but they were no longer firing at them. The Amazon was a mile wide and the craft had skimmed its surface like a rock sliding across ice, in a short amount of time. Soon, the captain of the craft ordered the boat to turn west, heading upstream, hugging the other shore and staying out of the range of their bullets.
She began to shake in earnest now, realizing they were safe. Aly wrapped her arms around her pulled-up legs and rested her brow against her knees, feeling as if she were falling apart. Tears burned in her eyes. And then they began to run warmly down her drawn cheeks. And just when she once more felt so alone, she felt Josh’s hand skim her shoulders. She lifted her face, unable to stop from sobbing, his face blurred.