by Lori Avocato
The moment the door closed, the distinct sound of the lock clicked. There was no getting out that way. She scurried to the window, glanced from side to side, but saw nothing. It too was locked from the outside. Caged like a lab rat. Dried crusted mud made her itch. Coldness settled deep into her flesh making her shake from head to toe. She needed to think, but at this rate hypothermia would probably set in before she managed to engage her brain.
Allie walked into the bathroom, noting there was no door. It contained the basic needs, a shower surrounded by a wooden stall, a toilet, and a sink. Nothing fancy. Simple bar soap sat on the sink. A toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb, a towel, a white washcloth, and a roll of toilet paper rounded out the amenities of this no-star establishment. She snorted at her attempt at humor. She doubted this place existed on any of the Internet vacation booking sites. When she started the shower, she saw no shampoo so she grabbed the bar of soap from the sink.
Wiggling out of her single stiletto, she frowned. They were the best leather shoes she’d ever owned. As quickly as she could, she peeled the dress and her undergarments from her skin. She opened the creaky wooden door and stepped into the shower. Uncomfortable with the inability to lock the bathroom for privacy, she quickly scrubbed the mud from her hair and body. No way did she intend to be caught naked if that midget of a maniac decided to pay another visit before she dressed. Every muscle ached, causing her to linger longer than she should have in the heated water. Tears ran down her cheeks.
God, she prayed Father was all right. From the sound of it, he wasn’t a captive. Only she was a prisoner. That thought released a smidgeon of the knot in her stomach. Hopefully, his sister, Myra, would remain with him until Allie returned. If she returned. She wiped the tears from her eyes and shut off the water. Tears equaled weakness and she refused to yield to that bodily function again. Not until she was home.
She stepped from the shower, dried, then wrapped in the towel. She ran the comb through her hair, brushed her teeth, then stilled. Did she hear something? A quick turn of the knob and the water flow to the sink stopped. Straining, she heard nothing. She turned, walked into the bedroom and froze.
A man clad from head to toe in American military camouflage and heavily armed stood staring at her. Before she could speak, he moved lightning fast. A hand covered her mouth while the other tugged her close from behind.
“Shush.” His warm breath tickled her ear. But his deep, southern drawl touched her in other places making her shiver as he continued to whisper. “I’m Staff Sergeant Mitch Sinclair with the Marines, ma’am, and we’re here to take you home.”
Allie bit his hand lightly, causing him to jerk it free from her mouth. She twisted in his grip, grappling for the towel that had loosened, leveled her gaze on his, and whispered on a hurried breath, “I can see that. Give me a second to dress and I’m out that window behind you.”
Without giving him a chance, she shrugged from his grip, dropped the towel and lunged for the clothes on the bed. She tugged on the sweatshirt and sweatpants without bothering with the undergarments. Grabbing the socks, she noticed there were no shoes, so she tossed them back on the bed.
Mitch’s jaw dropped. The most perfectly rounded bottom stood within arm’s length and he couldn’t do a thing about it. He spun on his heels, weapon drawn and guarded the door while she dressed. Think mission. Think bad guys. Think Kwan.
That did it. Pure heat sizzled up his spine to curl in his gut. Images of some of the grisly innocent deaths inflicted by that man’s hand flashed inside his head, chilling the unwanted sensation of desire. But not for long. She touched his shoulder and he turned to face her. Deep, brown eyes framed by wet golden hair melted his soul.
“No shoes,” she whispered.
“It’ll have to do. Let’s get you out of here first.”
Mitch cautiously peeked through the open window. With a nod, Sergeant Lou Randle appeared on the other side. He helped the hostage through the window, then followed. As his feet touched ground, he noted the undergarments still lay on the bed. Knowing she wore nothing under those sweats sent a spike of need straight to his loins. What was wrong with him?
A knock on the door jarred him into combat stance as he backed away from the building. The moment they hit the woods, Kwan Sung-hee discovered he no longer held Allie Summers captive.
“Find her. Kill her,” echoed behind them in heated Korean.
Mitch had no intention of allowing that to happen.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Three
Lou took point of the four-man team, leading the way through the thick trees. Radio controller Sergeant Eric Wise fell in behind Lou. Sergeant Dean Richards brought up the rear making sure the enemy didn’t engage. Even with the woven canopy of branches and leaves, rain pelted them. Mitch followed Allie making sure she didn’t fall. Bare feet made her slip and slide through the torrential downpour. Though she didn’t complain, the wooded terrain and underbrush attacked her feet. He shifted his weapon to hang easily accessible across his chest. Matching her shorter strides, he strode beside her just in time to catch her when her foot caught on a root.
“Thank you,” she managed to whisper.
“Not a problem, ma’am.” He scooped an arm under her knees and wrapped the other around her waist, tugging her against his weapon and his chest. She gasped. Both arms laced around his neck as if frightened he’d drop her. A smile threatened his lips, but he swallowed it. He bench-pressed three times her weight. There was no way he’d drop something as light as this hot morsel. Awareness of her feminine essence captivated his system. Cradled in his arms was a temptation he struggled inwardly to resist. Visions of her naked bottom flashed behind his eyes as he readjusted his grip. Thinking of her like that was wrong. He reprimanded his libido to back down, took a breath and forced a natural even tone. “We’ve a long distance to cover. It’s too difficult to do without shoes and keep pace.”
“I …” The retort stopped dead in her throat.
“You managed about a quarter mile barefoot. Leave the rest to me.”
As if she’d accepted her fate as his burden to carry, she leaned into him no longer fighting the predicament. He sensed her exhaustion as she lowered her head onto his shoulder and closed her eyes. Dean whipped out a neatly folded, camouflaged rain poncho from his side pack pocket.
“This might help warm her some.” He draped it over her like a blanket, tucking it in around her.
Each tuck of the poncho tightened her presence in his arms. His intent had been simply to increase their pace and alleviate any further damage to her feet. The discomfort in his chest had nothing to do with the dig of his weapon into his flesh and everything to do with the woman in his arms.
“You done?” Mitch stated in a point-blank tone.
“Thank you,” Allie mumbled from beneath the cocoon of rain-resistant nylon.
“You’re welcome, ma’am.” Dean touched the brim of his combat helmet, shot Mitch a raised eyebrow told-you-so look, then fell into place guarding the rear.
Hours passed and the rain didn’t let up. He was grateful for the unusual warmth in the late November climate. Otherwise, no matter what gear they wore, they’d be fighting hypothermia. Clutching her close, Mitch forged through the woods and, along with his men, kept moving south at a steady pace. With the persistent downfall, the odds of flash floods in this region increased. The trek to the Imjin River consisted of miles of treacherous terrain downhill. During the rainy season, the river was prone to torrential currents yet it would provide their greatest chance of escape. It had been their main entrance into North Korea without being seen and if luck remained at his side, it’d be their exit without incident.
Crossing the DMZ—demilitarized zone—and entering Yonchon, South Korea was their only hope of refuge. Captain Hayward waited at the base camp set up outside Yonchon for word of their mission. There would be no formal military action to rescue Mitch and his men should they fall under fire or capture. Their top
-secret objective warranted no scrutiny from the press. The outside world wouldn’t know of their victory or failure. It was the way of the Force Recon Marine. Knowing they’d completed their mission successfully equaled the only glory Mitch required. For fifteen years, the Marine Corps had been his life, his reason to live.
Holding the phenomenal length of woman in his arms, his world seemed to hunger for a new direction. Mitch glanced at the sleeping beauty. Her lips pursed in a slight pout as if begging for a kiss. Thick eyelashes fluttered for an instant and he sensed she dreamt. The sudden twitch of facial movements led him to believe a nightmare tormented her rest.
Before he could stop himself, he leaned in and whispered, “Rest, Allie. You’re safe. I promise no one’s going to harm you.” Not sure why he did it, he brushed a gentle kiss across her furrowed brow. The momentary touch caused his mouth to water and increased his desire to taste her lips to their fullest. The insatiable need jolted him upright, straightened his spine taut, and instinctively tightened his grip around his precious prize.
Oh, God, give me the strength to complete my mission and walk away to live another day as a Marine
Allie started to balk when he first lifted her into his arms. She was an independent woman and needed no assistance in walking or running for that matter. Exhaustion gripped her system overriding her normal strong-willed attitude. The ache in her legs and the sting of multiple cuts to the bottoms of her feet aided in her decision to accept his help. The pit of her stomach heated when he shifted her close and carried her like a damsel in distress. Out of the two men she’d dated, neither ever lifted her, much less treated her as delicately as this big, tough Marine.
This was a man she’d enjoy getting to know. She shivered, trying to prevent her mind from wandering in a non-professional direction. Apparently, saving her was his team’s mission. Nothing more, nothing less. It wouldn’t do to let her imagination create an incorrect scenario. But her hormones whipped along at a rapid pace, twisting her thoughts back to the romantic.
Was there a hint of an underlying warning in the way he snapped ‘you done’ at his fellow soldier? Nah, she decided. Even though she’d sensed an electric spark from her head to her toes the moment she laid eyes on him, she doubted he’d experienced the same. Camouflage didn’t hide the healthy male specimen from her trained eye. Without the dark face paint, she bet chiseled features surrounded his sexy, bright blue eyes. The helmet hid the color of his hair making her itch to unravel that mystery by removing it. And if he smiled, she’d probably melt. Thank God he didn’t smile.
The steel of his weapon lay between them digging into her side and hip. Though it bit into her comfort, she was grateful for the cold barrier it placed between them. Without it, she wasn’t certain she wouldn’t embarrass herself by snuggling tighter against this massive machine of a man. They’d walked for miles and yet he showed no signs of fatigue. His fortitude astounded her and kept her libido ramped on high, even though she tried desperately to tone it down. The rhythm of his gait lulled her to sleep in the sanctity of his arms.
For now, she was safe.
Deep sleep wasn’t possible, but a catnap engulfed her system though she tried to fight the inevitable. Bumped and bruised tossed around wrapped in a burlap sack, hours dissipated, lost forever. Rain poured, mouth dried. Visions of a strange man’s face danced behind her eyes. His macabre smile tormented her soul. Eyes filled with a history of torture, resentment, and hate gazed directly at her as if daring her to run. Tiny hands twisted a man’s head, snapping his neck, sealing his fate. Her chest constricted. The gasp froze in her throat.
Would she be next?
Refusing to open her eyes for fear of seeing the short little man with the deadly skills, Allie stiffened against the cold hard steel.
A warm breath touched her ear. Whispered words of comfort unknotted the coil wrapped tight around her chest, allowing her to breathe with ease. Whether intentional or not, the cradle of his arms cuddled her closer, coaxing her system to relax. The realization she was no longer held captive emerged from her sleep-induced haze. The brush of masculine lips across her brow sealed the need to get to know this man better. He knew nothing of her nor she of him, but deep in her heart, the desire to learn and explore his attributes ignited.
If she thought too hard about it, she’d convince herself she suffered from some sort of hero worship syndrome. After all, he had rescued her. His sudden stop stirred her from the momentary haven of safety. Muffled noises sounded in the distance.
Allie peeked from beneath the rain poncho and whispered, “Where are we?”
His brilliant blues met hers and for a split second she thought he’d kiss her. Wrong. Instead, he communicated the need for silence with a shake of his head. Damn the romantic notion. This man was all business. She swallowed hard. Considering the situation, she needed to remain levelheaded and listen to these highly trained specialists if she wanted to survive. Instinctively, she followed his lead and lowered to her feet. Instant coldness replaced the warmth he’d given her causing her to internally shiver. The moment she had her balance, he readied his weapon and shifted into a combat stance, keeping her close behind. She placed each step carefully in the indention of his boot print in the mud.
Where he stepped, she stepped.
It took great inner strength to resist the temptation to kiss her. Those sleepy, dark brown eyes of hers relayed desire mixed with fear. And fear was an emotion he refused to touch. He’d already made a wrong move by kissing her brow. The salt of her skin left a flavor sealed to his lips he would never forget. The essence was pure Allie, an intelligent woman with an air of refined innocence.
Her file read like an encyclopedia of knowledge and achievements. The woman he protected maintained a high IQ, not to mention several master’s degrees in science, math, art, and the one that worried him the most, nuclear physics. Did Kwan know that? If he did, there’d be no way he’d give up on such a prized commodity easily. Her value to the mercenary would triple. Kwan would torture her to extract every ounce of information he could, then either sell it, or her, or both to the highest bidder. Kwan knew no loyalty to any employer.
The low rumble of off-road vehicles seemed to hover within a half-mile radius. It surprised him they used quads for mobility. But given the tough terrain, it seemed a logical choice. For the last hour, the engines’ groans echoed through the trees from several different directions behind them. Mitch gave thanks for the rain. Though it slowed their return to the location where they’d hidden their boat, it also covered their tracks and hampered Kwan’s progress. The night before, they’d traveled up river via a high-speed, silent, motorized inflatable boat. The hike up mountain through thick, wooded terrain hadn’t fazed his well-trained Marines. One glance over his shoulder and he read the fatigue in her eyes. She looked lost in the oversized rain poncho. And surely her bare feet took a beating. Allie didn’t have the physical stamina or hours of military training under her belt he did. This wore on her and seeing that touched a soft spot in his heart. She needed him. Mitch forced his gaze back to scanning the area. With the cover of the storm, he hoped they’d still be able to access the boat and the river without being seen.
Lou’s whispered warning through the communications system in their helmets made his jaw clench. Now, they had a new threat. A band of North Korean militants camped, blocking the most direct route to the Imjin River. They’d have to work their way around, but it wouldn’t be easy. On Lou’s cue, Eric took point and they switched to a due east heading, giving the camp a broad radius. Lou shifted to the rear, keeping watch with Dean, making sure no movement came from the militants. Allie stayed within the tight net of Marines as they increased their pace. The sooner they got out of range of that group, the better.
It didn’t take long before the roar of engines entered the camp behind them. Angry voices echoed through the trees. Mitch strained to hear, picking out a few words from the wind. Shouted commands knotted his chest. Kwan had a connection with
these militants. His orders filled the woods with armed vigilantes searching for Allie and whoever helped her escape. Bodies crashed through the underbrush and the rumble of off road quads let them know the hunt escalated, tipping the scales in Kwan’s favor.
Though Allie didn’t complain, she winced with every footfall. Her feet had to be badly damaged. Mitch stopped short, turned and caught her before she ran head first into him. On a hoarse whisper, he commanded, “We’ve got to move faster. Piggy back now.”
He turned and stooped before her, cutting a darkened gaze across his shoulder at her. The snap of a limb nearby made Allie jump. She didn’t hesitate. She hoisted onto his back, wrapped her legs tight around his waist, hooked her feet together and grasped his shoulders. Mitch made one quick adjustment to the added weight, but never released his weapon. It was up to her to hold on. The team fell into combat ready mode as they hustled through the trees, trying to place distance between them and the enemy without giving away their location.
The heat of him between her legs warded off the chill of the ice-cold rain. They must look ridiculous racing through the woods as if they were kids playing a game of chicken in a pool. Drenched as she was, she could have easily been in a pool. An image of Staff Sergeant Mitch Sinclair wearing a bathing suit kicked up the heat in her veins. Allie would have smiled if the situation weren’t so dire. Ominous echoes reverberated through the trees reminding her death followed on their heels.
Closer and closer the engines hummed. Branches cracked. Voices carried angry shouts she could only imagine equaled her demise. Her heart beat in her throat and she readjusted her grip to lace her arms around his neck, pulling her snug against him. The man beneath her didn’t falter. Neither did the band of men around them. Each movement in-sync with the other, like a magical military dance, awed her. Her life lay in their refined capabilities.