by Zoe Dawson
But he wouldn’t let her move or talk, and she was just fine with that. Finally, he said in a low tone, “They’ve moved off. Where are you guys?”
He listened intently. “Are the choppers there?” Nodding, he said, “I’ll be fine. I’ll get the information I need and check in. Get out of here for now. I’ll be in touch.”
Then he looked at her. “Time to move, honey.”
“I’m not your honey,” she whispered as she disengaged her legs and gave him a caustic look. There was no way he was going to ditch her, and if he did, she knew exactly where Salazar had gone. She was going to get her memory cards back come hell, high water or Ruckus.
She gingerly made her way to the lowest branch of the tree. “Wait here,” he ordered, then grabbed the branch and swung down to the ground with surprisingly little sound.
He gestured up to her. “Jump down. I’ll catch you.”
“I can make it.”
“And twist an ankle in the process. No. Jump.”
“Did anyone ever tell you you’re a bossy jerk?”
He stared up at her as if he could burn holes into wood with that laser glare. “They can’t. They have to follow my orders.”
“Right. You’re GI Joes.”
“We’re SEALs, Dana. Not army.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry I insulted you when you’ve done nothing but distrust me and drag me through the jungle, pushing and shoving.”
“Would you rather I’d left you to your friends?”
“No, but that’s not the point.”
He opened his arms and his mouth hardened. “Jump, cupcake. I don’t have all day.”
“Cupcake,” she grumbled and did as he instructed. Landing firmly in his big grasp, he held her for a moment. Jeez the man was built, the muscles of his arms and chest hard against her. She could feel every breath he took. He was invading her personal space, not by holding her. That was necessary, but with those eyes of his, gunmetal blue and this close she could see a dark navy blue rim around the iris. Those eyes… Now that she could see how thickly lashed they were, they made her breath suddenly feel trapped in her chest. Being this close to him made it hard to think with any clarity.
She cursed the camo paint on his face, wanting to see his features clearly, the dark also hampering her vision. But his lips were finely defined in the stubble on his face, accentuating the fullness.
“I’m not a cupcake,” she said firmly, but it came out much too breathless. “I am a reporter and former war correspondent.” She had calmly reported the news as the chaos of battle exploded around her. She dealt with military men on a daily basis, SEALs included. So what was it about this man, this Ruckus, that made her lose her cool?
A twinkle entered his eyes that was either a trick in the dark or was utterly wicked. “Soft, slightly moist and very sweet…cupcake.” Okay, that was wicked, purely wicked, wicked man. “Light as one, too,” he murmured.
“Sugar is bad for your health. So, put me down, Rambo.”
“It’s Ruckus,” he said, his expression telling her he knew she’d given him the wrong nickname on purpose, a way to subtlety dig at him and get some distance. He shifted her, far too aware of his hands. When he released her legs and shifted his arm to the small of her back as he lowered her slowly to the ground, her awareness when her thighs brushed along his filled her senses, clutching at his shoulders for balance. But he was rock solid and had no intention of letting her fall. Before she could step back, he now deliberately filled up her personal space, he reached out. Not sure of his intentions, she went still rather than move away, her breath trapped in her chest again, but he only removed leaves out of her hair.
“Oh, my mistake.” She felt like an idiot. They didn’t have time for this crap in the middle of all this danger.
“I think we’re safe now. We should get going. SERE time.” Damn his voice was deep, smooth. Her gaze dipped to his mouth, unbidden, and she had to fight the urge to wet her lips.
“Dana?”
The way he said her name, with that gruff quality made her senses flare again. This was going to be a pain in her ass. “Uh…yes. We—we should get going.” She stuttered her reply and was glad it was so dark. “What is SERE?”
Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape, but we’re more interested in evasion. We need to go north.”
“Right that’s where Yaviza is.” She looked up briefly and then said, “It’s this way.” She stepped in the right direction and his hand landed on her arm.
“Let me lead in case we run into some stragglers.” He moved in front of her, that broad back effectively obscuring her vision. Geez, he was big, and she wanted to kick him, get rid of this…this…attraction. “How did you know which way was north without a compass?”
She huffed a laugh. “The north star. I know how to navigate. I’m pretty self-sufficient when men aren’t kidnapping me or chasing me with guns, and dragging me through the jungle.”
He grunted and that was the extent of his answer. After about an hour and a half, he abruptly stopped. Judging by the position of the moon, she figured it was about three in the morning.
“We’re not going to get there by running ourselves ragged,” he said. “We’ll camp for the rest of the night and get a fresh start in the morning. “What provisions do you have in your pack?”
“I have a tent, blanket, cooking utensils, a way to start a fire, but I know that’s out of the question. Besides, I don’t have any food with me. I also have a change of clothes, first aid kit, rain poncho, camera, bug spray, personal hygiene stuff and makeup.”
He chuckled at the last one. “Pull out the tent, and you’re right, we can’t make a fire. I could probably hunt us up something, but we don’t want to broadcast our position to anyone looking for us. A fire can be seen from quite a distance. Looks like it’s MREs for us.”
She released her pack and swung it around. “Oh, Meals, Ready-to-Eat.” She’d heard plenty about them, but hadn’t ever had one. Before she could open her pack and pull out the tent, he took it out of her hands and searched in a side pocket where she’d put the IDs, passports and press credentials.
Pulling them out, he flashed a small light over the documents. He looked up at her face, then back down. “Looks like you and your crew are who you say you are.”
She snatched her papers back. “I am, and you could have asked me. Do you want to frisk me for weapons?”
“Nope. I watched you get dressed, cupcake. I’ve seen all your weapons.”
“Don’t call me cupcake, you jerk. Don’t you have any decency?”
“Sure,” he shrugged, “but when it comes to combat and the red zone. I go commando. That’s the nature of this job.”
“And demeaning women with cutesy names is your way of keeping me firmly in the detached package sort of way you SEALs think?”
He scowled which seemed to be his permanent facial expression. “Women are easily as combative as men and are sneakier about it. I don’t trust anyone. But if it comes down to it, Dana. No one is going to harm you unless I ain’t breathing. And, if that happens, I got a feeling you’re one tough cupcake and won’t go down without a fight. I think I could pass for Nelson if I need to. It was lucky all of them were packaged together.”
She nodded.
He went to pull out the tent, and she slapped his hands away, his comments making her even more breathless and so aware of him, not only as a man, but as a warrior and a good judge of character. He gave her a narrowed-eye look, then sighed when she glared back and raised her chin. She assembled it her-own-damn-self and when she was finished, she turned to find him pulling out foil packets.
Holding them up, he said, “Spaghetti and meatballs. You’re in a for a treat.” But the sarcastic lilt to his voice warned her that whatever was contained in those packets were anything but a treat.
3
She was a definite hoo-yah on the sexy scale. It’s not what he should have been thinking right now. In fact, he should be grilling her on the wher
eabouts of Salazar. That ex-patriot turned drug lord wasn’t going to escape the noose that was tightening around his neck.
This woman couldn’t have landed into a darker den. Salazar was American, rich, and a deadly drug thug with international ties and body counts on his resume. War correspondent or not, this little sweet treat was out of her league.
He realized that she wasn’t a lightweight. She’d kept up and she’d performed with an amazing quickness. He’d called her cupcake to get her back up and make it that much easier to carry out his plan. She hadn’t disappointed him. Dana Sorenson aka cupcake put him in his place, but she was right about one thing. He didn’t trust women. Period.
It could have been because all the women in his life had betrayed him. He couldn’t extend his trust that far anymore. The only place he was safe was in his band of brothers. The SEAL team was his family.
So, he was interested in her body. Who wouldn’t be? He was a red-blooded American male and his appetites were a little raunchier than the average guy. Dana had some dangerous weapons just as he said and he wouldn’t hesitate to fuck her. Why the hell not? She was hot. He gritted his teeth. Yeah, Cooper. It’s easy to objectify her then interact with her one on one. Much easier to think about her as nothing but a female body.
She eyed the packet he held up with a dubious eye, and he didn’t blame her, although the spaghetti choice was a good one. It tasted like the canned variety, but packed with many more calories. Also included in the meal was au gratin potatoes, carrot pound cake, crackers, cheese spread and a grape electrolyte beverage.
He got to preparing them with the heating pack that came with. The instructions were hilarious, especially the warning that it was inedible.
“You can heat up the entrees?”
“Yeah, believe me, it’s better that way.”
She sat down cross-legged as he tucked the foil packet into the heat pouch and folded it over. The chemical reaction was fast and the heater stayed hot for about ten minutes, moving onto the potatoes when the spaghetti pack was done.
He had every intention of getting the information he needed out of her and dropping her shapely ass at the airport to make sure she got safely on a plane to the States before he went after Salazar.
“My crew—”
“Are safely out.”
“Where did they take them?”
“Classified information, but know they will get medical attention and escort back to the US.”
“They both knew the risks, but I’m worried about James. I sure hope he’ll be okay.”
“He will or he won’t.” After serving for the number of years he had, that was reality. People died every day, sometimes in his arms. It was the nature of this job. “No use worrying about it.”
“Are you really that detached?”
He stiffened. “No, I’m a realist.” He shoved her portion into her hands and said, “Eat. Then get some sleep. We’re heading out at the crack of dawn.” He didn’t want to analyze too closely all the emotions he’d wrapped up from all the death he’d seen. It would overwhelm him, and as a SEAL, he was always in control of everything.
He started eating his.
It took her a few more minutes as she scrutinized him. He wished she wouldn’t speculate about him at all. She didn’t know him. He’d compartmentalized everything from his childhood to his marriage to his last deployment. Women were soft creatures, a lot of work, duplicitous, and manipulating. But damn if she wasn’t freaking beautiful, those eyes of hers boring into his.
As a news person, she was probably pretty good at reading people. Not this SEAL. He’d keep his secrets.
Her first bite was tentative. She tasted it delicately, and he couldn’t help watching her lips as her jaw moved. She looked at him. “It’s not bad.”
“Yeah, one of my favorites along with beef stew and some of the snacks. You’ll need the calories. It’s only one thousand since we had to share.”
She sat up straight. “Two thousand? In one small meal?”
“Yup. More than you consume in one day, I’m sure.”
“I don’t count calories. I eat whatever I want, especially cookies. Chocolate chip is my favorite. It’s all about moderation. Besides, I’m a runner. Normally, I can run for miles without breaking a sweat. I really didn’t need carrying. I just—”
“Panicked.”
She huffed out a breath. “Yes, I panicked.”
He was surprised. He expected her to lie. Most people did about fear. Fear made someone vulnerable and most people didn’t like that especially him. “Bullets flying tends to do that.” He wondered if she was as honest about this, what exactly would she lie about? Everyone had secrets, some were so buried they weren’t accessible, but were there beneath the surface, screwing up the head.
“Where exactly did Salazar go?”
“I’d rather not say. I don’t want to wake up and have you gone. I said I was going with you ,and I meant it.”
Ruckus leaned forward, his tone soft and deadly. “For the record, cupcake. I wouldn’t leave a civilian stranded in the deep jungle with no food or water, hostiles everywhere. No matter how capable or a pain in the ass she was being.”
She smiled sweetly. “My hero.”
His eyes went flat, her words reminding him completely of his past and how not a hero he was. “Are you always this much trouble?”
She didn’t bat a lash. He found himself utterly fascinated with her face and every emotion that crossed it. It pissed him off. He wondered how she would look when she was being done good. She wasn’t about to let him close enough to touch her, let alone do her. “Only with you, it seems.”
He gave her his best I’m-the-one-in-charge look that scared the crap out of just about anyone. Still nothing. “It’s not personal. You are interfering with a federal package here. There could be repercussions from the attorney general on down.”
Her eyes widened and she cooed. “Not the attorney general. What are they going to do? Dig up my tax returns? I have the first amendment on my side. I’m a journalist, and this is free speech. So stuff that in your kit bag.”
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he muttered. “There are many ways to retaliate. Least of all screwing up your passport. They could throw you in jail for a long time.” He certainly didn’t want to imagine this beauty behind bars because she was being difficult. What was driving her to go after those memory cards besides the story? Was she that one-minded? But getting personal was out of the question. He didn’t want to get into her head or have her get into his.
“Salazar has my property, and I’m getting it back.” She bulldozed ahead without taking a breath, and he half expected her to poke his chest. “I’m not asking your permission. I’m just stating facts.” She did poke him, but in his tactical vest right in the center of his chest. No disappointment there. “For me. This is personal.”
“Are you sure this has nothing to do with getting all this recorded for a story?”
She froze and turned around. “A story! You act like this is nightly news. I don’t do stories. I do real life and the suffering and pain that goes with that. Those people deserve to have that in the limelight so others are aware of what is really going on. My interviews, their heartache, pain, suffering and hope for freedom are on those cards. They’re irreplaceable! I don’t care whether you think that’s important or not.”
He grabbed her arm, ready to give her a dose of reality. “The average person doesn’t give a damn what’s going on.” Okay, so she was a do-gooder, and he’d made a mistake when he pegged her for a news hound.
She pulled out of his grasp, stumbling. When he went to help steady her, she moved shakily away. “I do, and I’m reporting it. At least I will reach some people. That’s enough for me.” She walked a few steps away then whirled around. “I’m taking you to Salazar, so technically, I am cooperating. You’re just pissed you’re not in control. But, you can arrest me at the crack of dawn, Rambo. I’m going to sleep.”
He
gritted his teeth and wanted to yell at the top of his lungs, but it would be too dangerous as he watched her shapely backside disappear into the tent. He angrily snatched up the remnants of their meal and buried everything. Then he grabbed his M-4 and sat down bracing his back against a tree staring out into the night. She was determined to risk her life for those cards. Dammit! “Freaking irritating cupcake,” he muttered.
“You got yourself a situation, LT?” Kid’s amused voice buzzed in his ear.
Ruckus sat up, his body tense. “Where are you, petty officer?”
“At the LZ. All the bad guys are gone or dead. We’re not leaving here without you. I thought I made that clear.”
“You wet behind the ears little bastard,” he snarled. “I told you to get back to the carrier with those civilians. I would get in touch.”
“Copy that, sir,” Scarecrow’s smooth Southern voice came over the comm. “You absolutely didn’t say anything about us coming back. We went to the carrier and dropped off the friendlies just like you ordered. The doc said the unconscious guy, James Quinn has a severe concussion and is dehydrated. He’s getting fluids and they’re assessing his condition. Liam Nelson is also dehydrated and malnourished. Cuts, bruises and a broken wrist, but he’ll mend. Now we’re here for backup. Just let us know what’s shaking, and we’ll do what’s needed.”
“Also, Major McRae wants you to get the information out of the reporter and then get her to safety, pronto.”
“Good luck with that, LT,” Blue said and the rest of them chuckled.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Apparently, he was being usurped on every front. “You chuckleheads having a good time? Good. Standby then. I will let you know the moment I have Salazar’s coordinates.”
“The little…ah…cupcake sandbagging you, Ruckus?” Cowboy twanged. In the open mic, he heard chuckles. Damn them. This wasn’t funny.
He looked toward the tent. “Nothing I can’t handle.” The little cupcake was a handful and seemingly not at all intimidated by him or the US government. He didn’t want to, but he had to wonder what was driving her. Was this really about some migrant story or was there more here he just didn’t know about? Didn’t want to know about. He had a directive. Get Salazar alive, but Dana would take precedence over that slime dog. There were no detours, no barricades, nothing he wouldn’t do to carry out his mission. One beautiful woman with a steel attitude certainly wasn’t going to stop him. He chewed metal for dessert.