by Elle Kennedy
“No fire?” she said.
“No point. We’ll be on the move again in a few hours.” His voice became husky. “Better come up. It’ll be pitch-black soon.”
She knew he was right; it got dark scary-fast in the jungle.
She scampered over, then hesitated as she stared at the big body sprawled in the netting of the hammock.
With a knowing, slightly mocking smile, he shifted and held out his arm.
There was a lot of swaying and rustling as she climbed in next to him. The swinging motion had her falling against Tate’s broad chest, and his arm quickly came out to steady her. His strong grip and warm touch caused her heart to do an annoying somersault.
It took a few moments to find a comfortable position—she ended up sandwiched next to Tate, her cheek pressed against one of his defined pecs, while his arm wrapped tightly around her.
By the time they were settled, darkness had completely fallen. She couldn’t see a foot in front of her, and as Tate covered them with a thermal blanket, she was grateful to be above the treacherous ground and sheltered in Tate’s arms.
After a moment’s reluctance, she draped her arm over his chest and snuggled closer, taking advantage of his body heat and the comfort of his body. When her fingers brushed over something cold and hard, she lifted her head with a frown. “Are you holding your gun?”
“Yes. I never sleep without one.”
His revelation was disconcerting, but oddly comforting at the same time.
“By the way, you did good today,” he added.
She couldn’t hide her surprise. “How so?”
“You kept up with my pace, you didn’t complain, you wolfed down that MRE like it was a juicy steak.”
She smiled in the darkness. “Eating it quickly was the only way not to focus on how bad it tasted.”
“Regardless, you impressed me today. You didn’t strike me as a fan of the outdoors.”
The answering rush of warmth that rippled through her was unwelcome. She shouldn’t care what this man thought of her. Yet...she did. For some reason, his approval and respect meant a lot.
“I love the outdoors,” she confessed. “So do my parents. When I was growing up, we rented this cabin in Vermont every summer, right in the middle of nowhere, and we’d spend all day fishing and hiking and swimming. And Dad would take a few weeks off work every year so the two of us could go on an adventure together. An African safari, fishing trips, mountain climbing—pretty much whatever kept us outside.” Her voice cracked. “When I was pregnant, Dad used to talk about all the adventures he wanted to have with his grandson....”
She trailed off, the lump in her throat making it difficult to continue. Lord, she missed her parents. She called or emailed them whenever she thought it was safe, but she hadn’t seen them since Rafe was just a baby.
“What do your parents do?” Tate asked.
“Dad’s a lawyer, he mostly does tax and estate stuff. Mom was an event planner, but she does volunteer work now, planning charity benefits, running committees, that sort of thing.” She smiled in the darkness. “Neither of them was happy when I decided to help out with the San Marquez relief efforts after college. I’m an only child, so they’ve always been a tad overprotective.”
“Must be nice,” he murmured. “Having someone worry about you.”
Eva saw right through the flippant response. The sad, haunted note in his voice told her he was thinking about his own upbringing.
After a beat of hesitation, she said, “You told me about your father, but what about your mom? Why wasn’t she around to stop your dad from...from hurting you?”
Now his voice dripped with bitterness. “My mother left when I was seven, but by then, we were all happy to see her go. She had a raging heroin problem, OD’d twice right in front of me and survived both times. I’m sure she’s dead by now.”
Each word was spoken in a flat monotone, and Eva’s heart ached. She suddenly remembered a detail from the background search she’d conducted on him, but wasn’t sure if she ought to bring it up. Tate hadn’t volunteered that piece of information, after all.
Then again, he hadn’t volunteered any information since she’d met him.
“Your basic file, the one I was able to access, mentioned you had a younger brother,” she said carefully.
She immediately felt him stiffen.
When he didn’t respond, she raised herself up again and studied his face. She couldn’t make out his expression in the darkness, but the tight line of his mouth revealed a lot. “The file said he died.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Did it say how he died?”
“In the line of duty.”
The low, cheerless laugh that slipped from his throat sent a cold shiver up her spine. “That’s not true, is it?” she said.
“No, it’s true. Technically.”
“So he did die in the line of duty?”
“He was murdered.” Three words, popping out in harsh bursts like bullets from a pistol.
Eva’s breath caught. “Oh. How did—” Something suddenly clicked. “Hector. Hector killed your brother, didn’t he, Tate?”
He didn’t respond.
“That’s why you’re so set on killing him,” she said slowly. “I knew your reasons for wanting Hector dead had to have been personal, but I wasn’t able to find any connection between the two of you. I’m right, aren’t I? He’s responsible for murdering your brother.”
“If you say so.” His evasive tone gave nothing away, and yet told her everything.
“The American government was providing assistance to San Marquez in dealing with the ULF. Your unit was sent here, wasn’t it? That’s how you encountered Hector. It all makes sense now.” She furrowed her brows. “Except for one thing—why are you in hiding now? What happened after you left the military? Or maybe I should be asking, what happened to make you leave the military?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you ask a lot of questions?”
Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, and she was able to make out the amused glimmer in his mossy-green gaze. “Anyone tell you that you don’t provide a lot of answers?”
“I’m not in the habit of confiding in strangers.”
“I don’t think you confide in anyone, strangers or friends.”
“True,” he said, relenting.
A smile tickled her lips. “Well, I don’t see the harm in telling me, considering you already think I’m here to lure you out of hiding.”
His eyes narrowed. “Who says I think that?”
“Oh, come on, of course you do. That’s why you don’t trust me. A part of you suspects I’m an agent sent by the government to bring you in. Which is kind of absurd, because if I was supposed to arrest or kill you, wouldn’t I have done it by now? And why would I bring my three-year-old son along on the assignment? Face it, Tate, your theory doesn’t hold up. You have no reason to doubt me.”
Liar.
All right, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d kept a very huge detail from him when she’d solicited his help, but she refused to dwell on the lie she’d told. Besides, the fact that Hector was the father of her son had nothing to do with this mission. She and Tate both wanted Hector dead, and they each had their own reasons for it. So what if she’d given Tate a fake motive by claiming Hector had killed Rafe’s father? As long as their endgames aligned, wasn’t that all that mattered?
She’d never been a fan of the “ends justifies the means” mentality, but right now she was its biggest advocate. And no matter how guilty she felt about lying to the man who’d agreed to help her, she hadn’t been able to take the risk that he’d turn her down, which he might’ve done if he’d known the truth.
Now, after realizing that Hector had killed Tate’s brother, she was even more certain of her decision to tell that little white lie. She’d been romantically involved with the man who’d murdered Tate’s brother. She’d given birth to that man’s son, for Pete’s sake.
Tate
would probably kill her if he found out.
“You raise a good point.” His grudging voice drew her from her thoughts.
“So you don’t think I’m a government agent anymore?”
“I didn’t say that.” He shrugged, and the hammock swung a little. “But if you are government, my reasons for hiding out wouldn’t be a surprise, so I guess there really ain’t much harm in telling you.”
With a pleased grin, she lay back down and settled her cheek against his chest, but when Tate didn’t speak immediately, she didn’t push him.
She listened to the racket of the jungle instead. Even at night, the noise levels didn’t abate by much. The clicking of insects as they scuttled along the jungle floor, the harmonic buzzing of cicadas, the drone of insect wings, the croaks and bellows of nearby amphibians. It was kind of peaceful, as long as she didn’t focus too much on the bug noises, which reminded her that she was surrounded by, well, bugs.
“People want me dead.”
His raspy confession brought a mock gasp to her lips. “No, really? Here I thought you were hiding out in Mexico for the fun of it.”
“You know, your sarcasm doesn’t make me want to confide in you.”
“Sorry. Go on.”
He let out a strangled laugh. “Anyway, for some reason I haven’t been able to determine, my own government wants to kill me.”
Her brows knitted in confusion. “You really have no clue why?”
“None. All I know is that it’s related to the last op my unit was involved in.”
“Which was?”
He hesitated for a long moment, then cursed under his breath. “Hell, no point in worrying about security clearance anymore, huh?” he said in a wry voice. “We went in to rescue a hostage. Richard Harrison, an American doctor who was doing research at a small medical clinic in the mountains. The ULF ambushed the village and kept the doc captive. They tried to negotiate with the U.S.—they’d release the doc if we called off the alliance between our governments.”
Eva wasn’t surprised—the ULF made no secret of the fact that they resented American interference in San Marquez’s affairs. “But rather than negotiate, the States sent your unit instead,” she guessed.
“We were ordered to extract the doc, but he was already dead when we got to the village. So were all the villagers.”
Her lips tightened. “Hector?”
“Yep.” He paused. “So we went home for debriefing, and a couple months later, nearly every man on my unit was dead, all from various bogus causes. When someone tried to blow my head off out on the street in broad daylight, I contacted Stone and Prescott and we got the hell out of Dodge.”
As he went silent, Eva chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to make sense of everything he’d told her. A monkey howled from somewhere in the tree tops, and its cry was answered by several matching wails.
“I don’t get it,” she finally said.
“Join the club.”
“You have no idea why they want you guys dead?” She chewed on her bottom lip in thought. “Did you see something you weren’t supposed to? Hear something?”
“I don’t have a goddamn clue, Eva. All I saw in that village was a hundred dead bodies, burned to a crisp.”
She flinched at the gruesome image he brought to mind. “Well, maybe—”
“Maybe it’s time we go to sleep,” he cut in, an edge to his voice.
She closed her mouth, then opened it to release a heavy sigh. “Fine.”
She probably shouldn’t push her luck, anyway. Tate had revealed more in the past five minutes than he had in the two days she’d known him. Might as well leave it at that and try again tomorrow.
Try again?
The puzzled voice in her head raised a good question. Why was she going out of her way to get to know Tate? Why did she care about his past or his motives or the reason he lived as if he had a target painted on his forehead?
All she needed to know about the man was that he was going to help her get rid of Hector.
Shifting, she tried to get comfortable again, but no matter where she put her head or arms or legs, she was still plastered against Tate like plastic wrap. His intoxicating scent, pure man, teased her senses, and the rock-hard chest beneath her palm was pretty much inviting her fingers to stroke it. Resisting the urge, she curled those fingers into a tight fist and slid her hand down to his belly so she wouldn’t have to feel those defined pecs rippling beneath her fingers. But his washboard abs were just as tempting, and her hand being so close to his waistband meant her forearm now rested directly on his groin.
Which boasted the unmistakable bulge of arousal.
Heat scorched her face at the same time Tate’s mocking voice broke the silence. “Are you finished feeling me up?”
“I wasn’t feeling you up. I was just trying to get comfy,” she sputtered.
“Uh-huh.”
“I was,” she insisted. Then she felt a spark of irritation. “And why am I the one defending myself? You’re the one lying here with a boner. Jeez, Tate.”
His husky laughter increased her annoyance. “Sweetheart, I’m a man. A man who’s lying in a hammock with a beautiful woman—what else did you expect would happen?”
Eva swallowed. “You think I’m beautiful?”
He paused before releasing a ragged breath. “Yes. I think you’re beautiful.” His tone became sardonic once more. “So now, unless those busy hands of yours plan on unzipping my pants, let’s get some damn sleep.”
Desire pulsed between her legs, hot and persistent. His words were a challenge if she’d ever heard one, and for a moment, she almost did exactly what he’d taunted her about—unzipped his cargo pants, slid her hand inside and discovered if he was as big and hard down there as he was everywhere else.
But she fought the impulse, bringing her hand up and tucking it against her own belly.
“Good-night it is,” he murmured wryly.
Gulping, Eva slammed her eyes shut and tried to pretend that she was alone. That she wasn’t sharing a hammock with this sexy, magnetic man. That he didn’t intrigue her. Didn’t excite her. Didn’t make her feel the first spark of attraction she’d felt in years.
She didn’t want a man in her life, or her bed. Maybe someday, once she got the bitter taste of Hector out of her mouth, and only if she met someone worthy of her heart. Someone kind and gentle, someone she could trust with her son, someone who would love her son. Tate was neither kind nor gentle, and from the way he’d dismissed Rafe on sight, he would never be a part of her son’s life.
As those thoughts cemented themselves in her head, the little pulses of lust shooting up and down her body dissipated, much to her relief. With Tate’s steady heartbeat thudding against her ear, she fell into a soundless sleep.
* * *
He wanted Eva Dolce.
No, you don’t.
Ah, hell. He did. He really, really wanted her.
Dangerous thoughts, buddy.
As one conflicting thought after the other wreaked havoc on his brain, Tate tried to focus on chopping a path through the jungle. With all the voices throwing opinions around in his head, he was beginning to feel like a damn schizophrenic.
Not to mention that last night had done a real number on his groin—his entire lower body actually ached, though four hours in a hammock with a sexy woman plastered against him would do that to a man. He’d been lying with a hard-on the entire time, and it was a miracle he’d gotten any sleep at all.
When they’d woken up before dawn and set off, he’d hoped that the novelty of Eva would wear off on the second day of their journey, or that the attraction would taper to a level he might be able to tolerate, but that had been damn naïve thinking on his part.
As they walked at a brisk pace, he was painfully aware of Eva. The way she walked. The sound of her breathing. The squeaky little noise she made whenever a mosquito flew in her face.
Christ, he wanted her.
No, you don’t.
&nb
sp; Stifling a sigh, he hacked at a particularly annoying vine that refused to get out of his way. The machete finally sliced the thick diameter and the vine hit the jungle floor at the same time a flash of lightning lit up the sky.
“Oh, crap,” Eva mumbled. “This is not gonna be fun.”
Her words proved to be prophetic. Within seconds, the patches of sky that were visible through the trees turned black, a boom of thunder cracked in the air, and the rain began to fall in earnest.
It happened so fast neither of them had time to do anything but exchange rueful grins.
That reaction alone upped his opinion of the woman. Rather than shriek about getting soaked, Eva seemed completely unruffled. In fact, as sheets of rain drenched her clothes and plastered her hair to her head, she started to laugh, the melodic sound mingling with the loud pattering of the rain.
As the thunder rolled and the treetops shook, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward a cluster of enormous banyan trees. They ducked beneath the dangling moss-covered branches and rootlike shoots, which provided instant shelter from the downpour.
Tate leaned his rifle against the tree trunk, stuck his machete in the dirt and wiped the moisture from his face with the back of his hand.
“Next time we decide to kill a man, let’s do it during the dry season,” Eva remarked in a facetious tone.
He had to chuckle. “Agreed.”
She lifted her ponytail and wrung the water out of it, then shoved wet black strands off her forehead and tucked them behind her ears.
He couldn’t help but admire her beautiful features, perfectly symmetrical, flawless, a touch exotic thanks to her olive coloring and sparkling cobalt-blue eyes.
“You’re doing it again,” she murmured.
“Doing what?”
“Staring at me. Every time we’ve taken a rest break today, you’ve been staring at me.”
“Have I?” His voice came out hoarse, seductive, and he had to clear his throat before continuing. “Well, we already established that I think you’re beautiful. I guess I like looking at you.”
Surprise registered on her face. “I don’t understand you.”
“How so?”