Blind Ambition

by Gwen Hernandez

  “We need to make tracks. I’ll carry you.” Without waiting for her response, he shifted to her right and scooped her up against his chest like a baby. “Put your arm around my neck.”

  She complied, resisting the urge to run her fingers into his hair. “You can’t carry me all the way to…” Wherever they were headed.

  He made a dismissive sound. “You forget what I used to do for a living.”

  Used to? No, she hadn’t forgotten. How did you forget meeting an honest-to-God hero? Not just special operations, but a man who put his life on the line to save downed pilots, imperiled sailors, and trapped soldiers. A man who could fight his way in or out of anyplace and tend to the wounded with equal skill and care.

  No. She might have pushed him away, but she’d never forgotten.

  She gave over to the jostling of his long strides eating up the treacherous terrain with ease. He smelled like the ocean and sweat and dirt…and Dan. She inhaled deeply and clung to his neck. Too many times over the years she’d imagined what it would be like to see him again. Had imagined that dark look in his beautiful hazel eyes when he worshipped her body with his hands and mouth.

  The anguish on his face that he’d quickly masked when she ended their affair.

  A part of her died the day she walked away from Dan Molina. Their time together had encompassed the best moments of her life. But their relationship was based on a lie. And she had committed herself to helping those in need. There was no room for a man in her life.

  Her brother Thad wanted to know what she was running from. He didn’t understand that she was running toward something. A life of meaning. One where she made a difference. One where no one knew who she really was. Or rather, the other way around. With Hygiea she could be who she really was. Back home in Seattle, she had to be who everyone else expected her to be.

  She sighed.

  Trees rustled overhead, bent by the constant breeze, and the rush of the surf grew stronger in her ears. They passed the journey in silence, Dan treading like a native through the ferns and vines, before he gently lowered her to her feet.

  “Drink.” He shoved a canteen toward her.

  She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. “Thank you.” Gulping in a distinctly unladylike fashion that would give her father the hives, Alexa watched as Dan lit a red-filtered flashlight and studied a map and compass.

  He nodded to himself and stowed his gear in various pockets and pouches. When she offered it, he took the water bottle and tipped his head back for a long swallow, exposing his neck and that little spot she’d loved to kiss because it drove him wild.

  I missed you.

  The thought hit her like a smack to the chest. She still hadn’t recovered when he lowered the bottle and screwed on the cap, studying her face as he secured the container under bungee cords on his backpack. Their eyes locked and her breath stalled.

  “We need to keep moving,” he said in a low voice, apparently not as affected by her proximity as she was by his. She’d killed those feelings in him long ago. Her throat tightened.

  With a nod, she willed air back into her lungs and turned when he made a twirling gesture with his hand. Again he hefted her against his chest, with only a slight exhale of strain. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and closed her eyes. Being this close to Dan was its own form of torture, reminding her of all she’d given up.

  But she’d rather suffer his touch than slow their pace.

  About twenty minutes later, he stopped, set her on her feet, and crouched low. She followed suit, but dropped to her knees from the pain in her hip. They were so close to the shore she could hear the water lapping at the sand. Shells and pebbles knocked against each other with each wave to soothing, almost musical, effect. Such an innocent sound.

  Dan had his red light out again, and he alternated between studying the map and compass, and scanning the trees that lined the dark beach. “Shit,” he whispered.

  “What’s wrong?” She kept her voice low so it wouldn’t carry.

  He reached over her head and tugged a small piece of twine loose from a branch. “This is the right spot, but my boat is gone.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  FUCK AND DOUBLE FUCK. HAD someone seen him, or had opportunists run across the dinghy and appropriated it for themselves? Or maybe he hadn’t tied it down as well as he thought. He was careful out of habit and necessity, but that didn’t mean he never made a mistake.

  However it had happened, they were screwed. And Alyssa, or rather Alexa—would he ever get used to that?—was in no shape to run all over the island with him, looking for another boat. Not to mention he was struggling to keep his head straight with her so close.

  He’d spent the entire trip to St. Isidore locking away the raw ache that still cut through him when he thought of her, building an impenetrable wall around his emotions. A wall he needed in order to do his job. And it had worked right up until he’d caught the guard pinning her to the floor. He might have been able to rebuild his defenses had he not seen her battered face and the terror in her eyes.

  That look had made him want to kill the guard and rush the rebel camp with guns blazing. The fuckers had hurt her. He was afraid to imagine what else they’d done.

  No matter how much he’d steeled himself, seeing her again, holding her, was like taking a sucker punch to the gut. She tempted him from top to bottom, and holy hell, he’d forgotten just how much. He was such a goddamned fool for letting her get to him like this.

  Focus, Molina.

  “Your boat?” she asked, startling him out of his thoughts. “I can’t leave the island.”

  “I just rescued you. What the hell do you mean you can’t leave?” He shifted his rucksack to his back. How the hell was he supposed to get her to safety? He stood and put his hands on his hips. Maybe he could intimidate her into cooperating.

  She pushed up to stand, wincing with the effort. He caught her arms and pulled her the rest of the way, releasing her before he gave in to any of his stupid urges. Like bringing her closer for a kiss.

  “There are people here who are important to me,” she said, catching his gaze. She pressed a hand to her stomach. Alexa’s voice broke and her eyebrows lowered as if tears would soon follow. “I have to make sure they’re okay.”

  He stared at her for a full minute, his brain firing thoughts from so many directions he didn’t have a clue where to start. The passion on her face brought back memories of the first time he’d seen her.

  His team had been on the island several days, distributing supplies and ferrying the wounded. He was bringing in victims pulled from the rubble of the small university in Sancoins, providing medic services for the ride in a school-bus-turned-ambulance.

  She met the bus and started triaging patients as they were carried or helped out the back door, directing the paramedics to the correct station.

  Dan and Mick carried a litter with a young man who’d been buried under a lab table and was probably going to lose his arm. Dan had looked into Alyssa’s tropical blue eyes as he stepped down, and time had slowed to a crawl. His whole focus narrowed to her face, her voice, the aura of confidence, compassion, and purpose that surrounded her. He operated on autopilot for the rest of the day, half of his brain on the wounded, the other half on her.

  He’d never experienced anything like that moment before or since. Something inside him had shifted, as if creating a void within him that was meant to be filled only by her.

  And holy hell, he was losing it. Going soft as a marshmallow. Get a grip, dumbass.

  For all he knew, one of these people who were so special to her was another man.

  “Dan?” Her voice brought him back to the present.

  He reined in his thoughts, rebuilding the wall brick by brick. She lied about who she was. She threw your feelings in your face. And he finally knew why. Now that he knew she was a frigging heiress, it made sense. He was good enough for a fling in the jungle, but not good enough to introduce to Daddy.

 
; He’d been down that road before. Understood it all too well.

  That she was right didn’t make it hurt any less, but pain was the one thing he would never let her see again. From now on he needed to exude nothing but cool indifference.

  “Look, my job was to spring you from prison and see you safely home. I admire your sense of duty, but it’s not safe here anymore.”

  Her hands curled into fists and she stepped closer to him, bringing along the smell of sweat and fear and dirt that clung to her clothing. “You don’t understand—”

  Dan covered her mouth with his gloved hand. Faint shouts came from inland, probably not more than two hundred yards away, though sound could be deceptive in the rainforest. Dammit. They’d lingered far too long.

  He placed a finger to his lips and waited for a nod from her before removing his hand. They needed to get away from here, but she couldn’t move fast enough on her own, and he couldn’t outrun the other men if he carried her again. The rebels were too close.

  The moon was hardly more than a quarter full, but it still lit up the beach enough to rule out that route. They could dive back into the forest, but he wasn’t yet sure which direction posed a threat. Not to mention that the people they’d heard might not be the only ones out there.

  He did a slow three-sixty, hoping for inspiration. The trees were either too tall, too sparse, or too frail to make a good hiding spot. He’d picked this location for its relative isolation, but now that was turning into a detriment. There were no resorts or homes within easy reach to provide concealment.

  Facing the rocks, he came to a decision.

  Within seconds, Alexa was wading into the surf, biting her lip to keep from gasping at the slap of cool water against her legs. The Caribbean was known for warm waters, but warmth was relative. Anything below eighty degrees was still a shock to the system, and enough to cause unconsciousness within a few hours.

  Dan waded through the shallows ahead of her, slowly and steadily, not fighting the water as he advanced on an outcropping of rocks about fifty yards offshore. The moon seemed to light up their progress as if they were on stage, but he’d told her he was more worried that splashing would alert the rebels to their presence, hence the sloth-like pace.

  The sea rose past her waist, the swells reaching as high as her shoulders if she didn’t rise with them. The wind—so much stronger now that they were out of the protection of the trees—cut through her wet shirt, and shivers racked her body as the cold seeped into her tired bones.

  About twenty yards from the rocks, Dan disappeared. Alexa froze and clapped a hand over her mouth. Her heart beat triple-time as she fought the water to reach him.

  Just as suddenly, he broke the surface, rising slowly from the depths.

  She yelped and then bit her lip in reprimand. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

  He nodded. “It drops off here. I had to lose my ruck and boots. Can you swim?” He wasn’t asking if she knew how. They’d swum together three years ago. He wanted to know if she could swim in her current state, weakened and bruised.

  “Yes.” Whatever it took.

  “Try a sidestroke and aim for the rocks, I’ll be right behind you.” How did he stay so calm? All she could think about was the men with guns who might spot them and start shooting any second.

  She toed off her running shoes, and pushed herself toward their target. The sidestroke was slow going, but mostly kept her head above the waves and allowed her to keep her goal in sight. Her muscles quickly turned achy with fatigue and numb from the cold. It seemed counterintuitive, but she knew that the more they moved, the more body heat they lost. Still, what choice did she have?

  Unwilling to give up, she focused on her strokes and quit worrying about how far she had to go. Dan had once told her that he made it through the tough days of his training by focusing only on his next milestone. The rocks seemed too far, so she concentrated on five strokes at a time. When she reached five, she started over. Just five more. All she had to do was keep making it to five.

  Too many counts later, her hand touched the rough surface of the hardened lava that rose from the water. The sharp rock dug into her palm as she gripped the outcropping and looked for Dan. He motioned her to the far side of the formation, and she pulled her way along until she was out of sight of the beach.

  “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, and then dipped beneath the surface. He reappeared silently a few seconds later. “It’s about fifteen feet deep.” Treading water, he studied the hazardous rocks with their jagged edges and slippery moss.

  The sea pulled at her in a relentless game of tug-of-war. She clung to their place of refuge with all her might, but her fingers had gone numb. The next swell knocked her loose and she slid under the surface.

  Waves forced water into her nose and mouth. She tried to right herself, but her muscles wouldn’t cooperate. Panic banded her chest. Her lungs screamed for air, sending out a treacherous signal that took all of her strength to fight.

  A strong arm snagged her waist and dragged her up into the chilly air. She sucked in a desperate breath, and then coughed. Too loud. She closed her mouth to mute the sound and fought against the irritation in her throat, the burning in her nose.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Dan whispered in her ear.

  The warmth of his torso against her back soothed her frayed nerves and she quit hyperventilating. She nodded, unable to speak, and tried not to cough again.

  He took a couple of strokes backward, towing her to a tall rock that had split down the center. He treaded water, keeping her close. “Face me,” he said, and she struggled to comply. “Take off your pants. They’re not helping you conserve heat in the water, and I want to tie us together.”

  “Okay.” Teeth chattering, she tried to work the button with her numb fingers. “I can’t.”

  Dan gripped her wrists and pulled her arms around his neck. “I’ll do it.”

  She steeled herself for his touch. When his fingers slipped beneath her waistband, she closed her eyes against the sight of his determined jaw still smeared with face paint. The intimate act was almost more than she could handle.

  He unfastened her button and zipper and tugged the pants down her hips. “Lift your knees and I’ll pull them off.” Once he had them in hand, he wrapped the crotch of the chinos against her back, and tied the pant legs behind him.

  She felt his hands brush her lower belly as he worked on his belt buckle. Memories of them frantically removing clothes to make love against the wall of her small hut crashed through her, sending her stomach spiraling.

  He stripped off his pants and hung the belt over her shoulders. Then he looped his pants through hers, tied them at the ankles, and fastened the belt to the makeshift sling, hooking it on a crevice in the rock. “That should keep us afloat.”

  “Brilliant.” She almost managed a smile.

  “Not if we freeze to death. We need to keep still and close to conserve body heat. Wrap your legs around me.”

  “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”

  He hesitated for a half a breath, then his teeth shone white against his paint-darkened face. “Only the ones I’ve kissed.”

  She hooked her ankles behind his back and tucked herself against him, letting her shaky arms relax. The feel of his hard body jolted her clear to her toes.

  He inhaled sharply and looked away.

  Had he felt it too? Her heartbeat kicked up. “Dan…”

  With a sigh, he met her gaze, his arms tightening around her waist as he used his feet to keep them from slamming into the rocks with each wave. Their faces were only inches apart as they bobbed in the cool water, buffeted by the offshore breeze as the ocean slapped against the outcropping.

  “If that’s too uncomfortable—” he started.

  “No.” If anything, it was too comfortable. Being wrapped up with him had always felt right. She glanced at his lips and moved closer. She was drawn to him as if pulled by an invisible thread.

  H
e stared at her for a full minute, slowly, slowly closing the distance between them.

  And then she couldn’t wait any longer. She summoned the strength to raise herself up and press her lips to his.

  A shudder ran through him and he countered with a devouring kiss that sent her thoughts tumbling like pebbles in the surf. She’d forgotten the passion, the focus, the pure joy of his kisses…

  How had she walked away from this man?

  She opened to him, their tongues tangling as she forgot about the cold water, the danger on shore, everything. Nothing felt like being in Dan’s arms, connected. Nothing in her life had ever even come close. They were perfect together.

  Perfect in a way that scared her. A way that made her want to forget the vows she’d made and to never let him go.

  God, what was she doing?

  She pulled free with a gasp, breathing hard. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his chest so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “No worries,” Dan said, his breathing uneven. “That part was always too easy between us.”

  Too easy? He said it like it was a bad thing.

  He was right. She had understood three years ago that he’d test her resolve on every level. Back then she’d done what she had to and barely survived. But to go through it again?

  Maybe he should just let her drown.

  Dan swore and held Alexa close, commanding his heart rate to settle as he crashed from the high of their kiss. The one she “didn’t mean to” give him.

  He couldn’t decide who was more dangerous, her or the rebels.

  And speaking of the fuckers… Voices carried from shore. He craned his neck to see over the boulder. On the beach, four men huddled around flashlights, gesturing and looking around. After conferring for several minutes, they moved west along the water and disappeared into the trees.

  Alexa’s body shuddered, reminding him of another threat. Hypothermia.