Tempting the Fire

by Sydney Croft

Man, she hated the jungle.

  She stood. First, coffee. Next, she needed to talk to Marlena. Then a shower.

  Dragging her hands through her hair, she exited the tent. GWC people bustled around the grounds, and heavily armed security guys patrolled the outskirts. There was no sign of Logan or his shadow, Dax, so she headed for the medical tent, where, as luck would have it, Marlena was standing outside. As always, she looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine. Sure, her hair was a little frizzy, and she wore no makeup, but that only gave her a casual beauty, like someone had dropped a model into a jungle.

  “Hey,” she said quietly. “You okay?”

  Marlena nodded. “I was just going to get something to eat.”

  “Chance is all right with you being away from him?”

  Marlena chewed on her lower lip for a second. “We haven’t really talked much. He told me to get some breakfast, and I didn’t argue. I guess he’s okay.”

  Huh. So lots of hot sex, but no talk? Sela gestured for the other woman to follow, and they headed to the mess tent.

  After loading trays with eggs, pancakes and coffee, they sat at one of the empty tables.

  “So,” Sela began in a hushed voice, “how is Chance? How are you? Really.”

  Marlena ran one manicured nail around the rim of her coffee cup. “Chance is better. Fever is gone.”

  “And?” Sela prompted when Marlena didn’t continue.

  “And I’m fine too.”

  Well, that was pretty evasive. Maybe she was embarrassed about having sex with Chance after learning what he was. If so, Sela wasn’t going to mention last night. Marlena would be mortified to know that they’d been heard.

  “Have you learned anything useful?” Sela paused as a GWC guy walked past. “Does Chance know what happened to him?”

  “He doesn’t remember much. I don’t think he knows what he turns into.”

  Sela sipped her coffee. “Is he wondering why he’s being kept chained?”

  “He thinks he’s a prisoner. But he doesn’t know why or who these people are.” Marlena cut a bite-sized chunk of pancake. “Do you believe that GWC didn’t know what Chance was before last night?”

  “I do. I think they were keeping him to get information about the creature that attacked him. But now he’s turned into something more valuable.”

  Marlena chewed and swallowed. “Do you know what they plan to do to him?”

  Sela wouldn’t put it past a company like GWC to experiment on him until there wasn’t much left. The ACRO shape-shifter, Ulrika, had been through exactly that with Itor; she still had post-traumatic issues now and then.

  Chance was in a very precarious position right now. GWC wouldn’t let him go—and even if they did, ACRO would snatch him up. He was too dangerous to be let loose upon the world. At least ACRO would give him a shot at a normal life. GWC would either take him to some lab and keep him for the rest of his life, or they’d kill him.

  And where that left Marlena was a huge, and awful, question. If GWC kept Chance, and if he’d truly bonded to Marlena, they’d have to take her too. The thought sent a chill up Sela’s spine. It was more important than ever to get into Logan’s head and find out what they intended to do.

  Sela gave Marlena a reassuring smile she didn’t feel. “I don’t think they’ve had time to make plans for him yet. Right now they’re after the chupacabra, so as long as they’re focused on that, Chance won’t be a priority.”

  Marlena nodded, but she looked understandably troubled. “What about you? Did Logan reveal anything?”

  Sela jabbed her fork into her eggs. “Not much.” Sela sighed. “But he did admit that they are looking for the chupacabra. He said it’s because of Chance, that they didn’t know about it before then, but we know that’s a lie.” She took a bite of the eggs and grimaced. Powdered. Bleh.

  “He’s still sticking to the plant researcher story?”

  “Well, he did cop to what his company does.”

  Marlena raised a delicate eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Yep. He also said he’ll pay us a hundred grand to help him catch the creature.”

  A second eyebrow joined the first. “Wow. That explains why no one is watching me like a hawk today.”

  Sela nodded. “He thinks that if we’re partners, we won’t take off or sabotage his efforts or something.” No doubt they were being watched—just more covertly.

  “Excellent.” Marlena sipped her coffee, her expression thoughtful. “I guess we did a good job making him believe we wanted to escape.”

  “And now he’ll buy our reasons for staying and cooperating.”

  Marlena casually looked around once more. “Did you get anything out of Logan’s head?”

  Basically, Marlena was asking if Sela had fucked him. “No.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Sela had neither fucked him nor gotten any useful information during his orgasm—a fact that still bothered her.

  “So what’s the plan for today?” Marlena asked.

  Sela finished up her last bite of eggs. “We’re going hunting. I think Logan will be okay with you staying behind.” She stood. “You are okay with staying behind, aren’t you? I don’t want to put you in a bad situation with Chance if you aren’t comfortable.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, then see what else you can get out of Chance. Things he might have overheard, anything that might be important. And if you get the opportunity, poke around the camp.”

  Marlena nodded. “When will you be back?”

  “By nightfall, I’m sure. Keep an eye on things. And don’t tell Chance more than you have to. I’d rather be the one to tell him what’s going on with him, and I don’t want to do that until we get all the test results.” She squeezed Marlena’s shoulder, an inadequate gesture of comfort. “And be careful.”

  “You too.”

  Sela headed back outside, but on the way to Logan’s tent, she caught sight of something large and square covered by a tarp. Curious, she moved toward it. No one was looking, so she lifted the corner—

  A hand clamped down on her wrist. “Nosy, are we?” Logan’s voice was a harsh growl in her ear.

  “I didn’t know being curious was a crime in the police state of Loganland.”

  When she didn’t drop the tarp, he squeezed her wrist until she was forced to, but not before she caught a glimpse of what was beneath. A cage.

  “It’s just equipment. Nothing interesting.” He released her, and she rubbed her wrist even though it didn’t hurt. “We’re leaving in half an hour, so you best get ready to go.”

  “I’d like to shower.”

  “There are towels in the bin next to each stall. And be quick. We can’t waste water.”

  “I didn’t notice you being all that speedy with your shower.”

  He grinned. “I’m the boss. It’s my water.”

  “And if I want to … take my time?”

  His grin grew wicked. “If you find yourself in that kind of need, I can help you out—there’s no reason to be in the shower.”

  She’d always hated flirting with the enemy, but she was actually enjoying the oral foreplay between her and Logan.

  “How generous of you to offer,” she said lightly.

  “All in the name of conservation, babe.”

  Snorting, she moved off. Quickly, she gathered her clothes, took her shower, and by the time she was finished packing her rucksack, the team was ready to go. Before she forgot, she tucked her tiny texting device into her pocket—once they found the chupacabra, she’d update Dev on their situation.

  They headed out into the jungle. Logan, Dax, two men who appeared to be scientist types, and half a dozen men armed with both deadly and dart weapons. Logan led the way, and he insisted that she follow directly behind, sandwiched between him and Dax.

  “I’m not worried about you taking off,” he’d said, as he handed her a dart gun. “I just want to keep you safe.”

  Like she was some delicate flower. Then again, he didn’t
know she’d been trained by ACRO to near-special operations standards. Annoyingly enough, she got the feeling that even if he were aware of her background, he’d still treat her like she was a damned glass figurine.

  Still, she supposed that was a good thing, because if he was protecting her, he wouldn’t be thinking about killing her.

  IF SELA NEVER SAW A JUNGLE AGAIN, SHE’D DIE HAPPY. AFTER this mission, she doubted she’d even watch Animal Planet.

  The GWC team had been combing the jungle for two hours and hadn’t found so much as a footprint. Lots of mosquitoes and biting flies, but no sign of the chupacabra.

  Now, as they approached the site where the SEAL team massacre had taken place, Sela’s pulse picked up. Shoving through a tangle of branches and vines, she moved out of formation without waiting for King Logan’s permission. He uttered a raw curse, but she ignored him as she knelt next to a log that had been clawed apart by something very large. All around, giant splinters of wood littered the ground, and embedded deep in one was the hard outer shell from a claw.

  “Oh, excellent.” She reached into her pack for pliers and a specimen bag.

  Logan peered down at the six-inch-long black claw. “Nasty thing, isn’t it?”

  Nasty was right. Those claws had gone through the hard wood like it was Styrofoam. The SEALs hadn’t had a chance.

  “Where did you track the creature after you found Chance?” she asked, and Logan gestured to the west.

  “We found the remains of a deer about two miles from here, and another mile away, we found a monkey with two holes in its throat. Drained of blood.”

  Carefully, she used the pliers to work the claw from the wood. “Did you bag it?”

  “It’s on ice at the camp.”

  She dropped the claw into the baggie and straightened. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that sooner? I could have studied it last night.”

  “You were busy last night,” he drawled, and Dax snickered.

  Glaring, she dabbed sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “I hate you both.”

  For some reason, that made them smile. Infants.

  Logan hefted his rifle, his incredible biceps bunching and flexing beneath tan skin. “We’ll head to where we found the monkey and start tracking from there.”

  “Wait.” She nodded at the clawed log. “Have you found anything else like this? Trees, branches, logs?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  She took in the surroundings, the sun-dappled clearing hugged by ancient, gnarled trees, crimson and yellow blooms that tipped broad-leafed plants—a deceptively beautiful setting. A man-eater had been here, and it would most likely be back. “Chupacabras are likely territorial. This one could be marking the boundaries of its territory.”

  “Dax,” Logan said, “grab the map we used to log the killings. We’ll add the territorial displays and narrow down our search grid.”

  Dax drew a wrinkled map from his pack and spread it on the ground. Once they’d plotted out the markings and kills, and she supplied the locations of sightings of odd creatures and livestock deaths she’d recorded, they found a distinct pattern within forty square miles.

  Logan crouched on his heels with his forearms draped over his thighs and whistled, long and low. “That’s a lot of area to cover.”

  “But now we won’t be wasting time searching outside of it.” Dax gave Sela a grateful grin. Idiotically, she smiled back like a damned geek happy to have the cool guy’s approval.

  Logan shoved to his feet and held out his hand to her. She didn’t want to take it—at least, that’s what she told herself—but she needed to get close to him. So she placed her palm in his, tried to ignore the spark of electricity that shot up her arm at the contact.

  He lifted her effortlessly, his fingers lingering on hers for longer than was appropriate as she found her footing.

  “Thank you,” she said, somehow managing to speak through her constricted throat.

  His eyes glittered with both amusement and hunger, as though he might laugh as he threw her down and stripped off her clothes. He leaned into her and put his mouth to her ear. “You’re welcome.”

  Her knees nearly gave out at the husky murmur, and then he was moving, his stride fluid and sure, while she felt like a gangly colt as she hurried into formation.

  And why the hell was it so hot in the damned jungle?

  Cursing—at herself, at the plants, but mostly at Logan—she fell into step with the men. They moved quickly, stopping now and then for water, or so Sela could study tracks or territory claw marks. Some had been made by jaguars, and their weathered, smooth edges indicated that they weren’t fresh. Which made sense. With a predator like a chupacabra in the area, the big cats would probably move out.

  “We’re getting close to the monkey site,” Dax said, and Logan’s steady gait instantly shifted into a stealthy prowl, and his already hard body bunched up like a coil.

  His sharp gaze scanned the jungle ahead. “Last time we were here,” he said to her, “we nearly ran into a squad of FARC guerrillas. We need to be on our toes and keep quiet.”

  Her heart stuttered. She knew more about the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia than she wanted to. The mission that had nearly gotten her killed had been about infiltrating one of their cells, and in a lot of ways, their brutality was on par with Itor’s. People who tortured children to get to the parents were simply beyond evil.

  “Sela?” Logan’s voice made her jump, and some damned monkey or bird or something in the trees made a screeching sound that was too much like laughter.

  “What?” Her voice was humiliatingly squeaky.

  “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” A curious expression flashed on his face. “You’re jumpy.”

  She smiled and hoped it looked genuine. “Low blood sugar. I’m getting hungry.”

  Dax slapped at a bug on the back of his neck. “It’s lunchtime anyway.”

  “You always think it’s time to eat,” Logan muttered.

  “What can I say,” Dax said, as he drew a brown MRE pouch from his backpack, “I love these things.”

  Clearly, Dax was touched in the head, but Sela really was hungry, and one thing she’d learned over the years was that when you were on a physical mission like this, you ate whatever and whenever you could. Plus, the MREs sometimes came with candy.

  Hers had a bag of M&M’s.

  She took a seat on a rock in the full shade of a tall, broad-leafed tree and tried not to be annoyed when Logan sat next to her. He said nothing, but then, he didn’t have to. His presence alone was a statement—he either wanted to protect her or make sure she didn’t take off.

  She wasn’t sure which one she would rather it be.

  The team ate in silence, the security guys and Logan never taking their eyes off the jungle surroundings. Nothing was getting past them. Hell, Logan zoomed in on every freaking insect that flew into their airspace. Alertness and confidence oozed from every pore, and even though he was sitting with one foot lazily perched on a mossy log as though he didn’t have a care in the world, she knew he was a lit fuse, ready to explode into action in a heartbeat.

  She was used to being around warrior types—ACRO had its share of nonmission personnel, but even they had been trained to the limit of their mental and physical abilities so that, if needed, they could handle anything. Hell, the cooks in the cafeteria knew about a thousand ways to kill someone with common utensils, not to mention their training with various ways to make people sick—or dead—with food.

  But even though Sela worked with the best of the best, Logan stood out. There was just something … unique about him. She couldn’t put her finger on it. She only knew that the way he moved and the way his fiercely intelligent eyes took in the world seemed too impossibly efficient, almost mechanical in nature.

  All that caged power sent a shiver of appreciation through her.

  “What are you staring at?” He spoke softly, his words directed at her, but he didn’t look awa
y from the forest.

  “I’m not staring.”

  “Really? Because your eyes have been locked onto me for the last five minutes, and you haven’t eaten more than a few bites of your mystery meat and gravy.”

  She glanced at the pouch in her lap and shooed away an oddly colorful fly. “Maybe I’m thinking about how much I hate you.”

  One corner of his sinful mouth tipped up. “Nah. You’re wondering how good I am in bed.”

  That hit too close to home, and heat scorched her cheeks. “You are the most arrogant man I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something.” She eyed his spread of food. “You going to eat your Skittles?”

  She expected a cocky comeback, but in a movement too fast to track, he’d lunged to his feet and trained his rifle on a dark expanse of jungle. His men followed suit, and three of the security guys peeled off, melting into the trees like shadows.

  “What is it?” she whispered, as she came to her feet.

  He pushed her behind him, and the blood froze in her veins at his chilling reply.

  “We’re being watched.”

  CHAPTER

  Nine

  Marlena was being watched. She might not be chained, but she was most definitely a prisoner in this camp, and she had the unshakable feeling that something was going down.

  It hit her not long after Sela, Logan and some of the other men had geared up and taken off for the jungle. Sela had waved to her and Logan had simply nodded. When she went back to Chance’s tent after breakfast, the doctor had still been in with him, and so she’d taken that opportunity to shower.

  Now dry and feeling human again, her stomach growled and she realized it was close to lunchtime. The mess tent was uncharacteristically quiet—granted, Logan had taken men with him into the jungle, but everyone left at camp seemed tense, as if anticipating something.

  She ate quickly and then fixed a tray for Chance.

  She wasn’t sure where to begin with him—after their initial fight last night, they’d done little more than give in to their primal urges. Several times. She’d conked out, waking every hour when staff came in to take Chance’s vitals and blood.