by Zoe Dawson
“So I guess this means you forgive me for my obviously suspect lookout skills?
“Since we’re still in one piece, yup. Let’s get going before I push you inside that tent and start something that is going to slow us down considerably.”
“Of course, pushing would be involved.” She ran her thumb over the fullness of his bottom lip.
“Plenty of pushing,” he growled. He kissed her again. “Hours of pushing.” His voice husky. Their gazes collided and her animated honey brown eyes were so warm and teasing, he almost couldn’t catch his breath at what he saw there. The fullness of Dana, this woman who had captured his senses, his body, and his imagination.
“Hoo boy,” she said, her voice breathless. “Yeah…what were we doing?”
He ran his hand through her silky hair, a snap in the distance had him turning on a dime and facing outward, his pistol out of the holster, trained on whatever threat was out there. He blocked Dana with his body. She put her hands on his bare shoulders with a soft gasp.
A jaguar padded out of the trees, its mouth open showing his pink tongue and teeth. “Dana, don’t move.”
He felt her chin hit his shoulder and she said. “Wow, this is only the second time I’ve seen one of those and the first time it was in a zoo.”
He sighted it with the muzzle, as it moved across their periphery. The big cat stopped and those gold eyes swung toward them.
“How beautiful.”
“Yeah. If he wants to stay that way, he better keep moving.”
Her hands tightening on his shoulders, her warm breath caressing his skin. “Stop distracting me, woman.”
“Really? Let’s see how good that SEAL focus is.”
“Dana,” he said in warning. His eyes still on the stationary cat.
She nuzzled her nose into his neck. “Mmhm. Nice.” She kissed his skin and he growled. The cat lifted his head and his ears pricked forward. “They say jaguars are territorial.” She breathed the words right into his ear, and he gritted his teeth, blowing air out of his mouth in one continuous stream.
When she licked him, his intake of breath made her smile against his skin. He made a soft sound in his throat when she bit him. His whole body jerked, going on red hot alert, but he kept his eyes on the animal.
“I wonder if it would be beneficial to have this kind of training in BUD/S. You know, have some women sign up to kiss hot male necks while they are supposed to be focusing on, you know, battle stuff.”
“Dammit, Dana.”
“Maybe I should flash my tits and ass at you. You could call that T & A training.” She kissed and licked him again. “And speaking of asses. Yours is…spectacular. I know because I’ve been following it through all of this jungle for days.”
He growled and the cat continued to watch them. “I have to admit. I want to see you buck ass naked, Bowie,” she whispered, her breath driving him crazy, his name on her lips turning him on even more. “Not a stitch on all that beautiful, muscled skin. I need about an hour to trace every inch with my tongue. Can you schedule that in somewhere?”
He was aching now, willing the freaking predator to move off so he could throttle that damn, sexy woman.
“I bet this is the first time you got a hard on while completely focused on imminent danger.” His chest heaved as he panted heavily.. “Let’s see if my calculations of hot female breath, neck kissing…ah…carry the licking and add in talking dirty equation equals a huge, gorgeous boner.” She pressed her breasts to his back. “Tell me, handsome. Did I do the math right?”
When he felt her hand slide over his throbbing dick, his muffled groan made her laugh softly. “Oh, yeah, I’m so good at math,” she whispered. “I think I deserve an A, don’t you?” She squeezed his ass, then rubbed him through his pants. “I’d settle for a huge, hard B.”
Finally, blessedly, the cat got bored and slunk off to his right. As she fondled him, her hand going to his chest as she ran her hands over his biceps in a slow aching caress, manhandled his pecs, slipping down to his abs, he didn’t take his eyes off the animal.
As soon as he disappeared from sight, Ruckus spun, taking her down into a tackle, flat on her back in the tent. She let out a peal of laughter and he joined her. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this light in his life.
“You’re...”
“Cute, sexy, amazing, beautiful.”
“A fucking pain in the ass.”
“Would that be this ass?” He currently had his dick right up against the heat of her, and she wrapped her legs around him, her hand cupping both cheeks and tightening.
“Son of a bitch.”
She held his eyes with a sultry, disarming gaze. Before she could utter another sexy word, he captured her mouth with his. Her lips parted as she sucked in a quick, startled breath. He shoved his fingers into her hair, and held her head in his hands, keeping her immobile as he delivered a demanding, open-mouthed, tongue tangling kiss he knew she wanted.
8
Above her, his body responded to the warmth and softness of her supple curves, hardening him in a scalding rush of need. He was being reckless, his duty taking a back seat to his needs that had been denied so long.
She had pushed him into this with her cute as hell dirty talking. His mouth on hers like a man starved for the taste of her. And that’s exactly how he felt…ravenous, greedy, demanding.
Her heady, feminine scent seemed to be everywhere and infused every breath he managed to inhale. With her breasts warm and yielding against his chest, he had the overwhelming urge to touch her everywhere at once to drown every one of his five senses with her essence and sensuality.
Keeping his mouth on her, he slid his hands down and undid her pants, grasping both hands around the waistband, he pulled them down and off her. He popped his button and unzipped enough to get his dick out, pulling her closer and fitting the hard ridge of his erection between her thighs, the soft, needy sound she made in the back of her throat, combined with the provocative way she rolled her hips against his, had his blood roaring in his ears and pure need surging through his body.
That easily, she’d pushed him to this madness. And now that he’d let go, he’d lost the ability to slow down or stop. He couldn’t stop, even if his life depended on it. And at the moment, his life depended on kissing her, touching her and feeling her hot and wet around him.
“Bowie,” she whispered his name into his ear, her hot breath sending tingles all along his nerve endings. He pushed into her, then deeper, filling her, and her inner muscles clamped tightly around him. Her head rolled, and she panted for air. His body shuddered, and he buried his face against her neck, his ragged breath blowing over her heated skin. “So tight, so hot and wet,” he rasped. He reached between them, caressing her, stroking her rhythmically, combined with his mouth on hers, she let out a cry and arched sinuously against his mouth and erection. Without giving her a chance to fully recover from her orgasm, he grasped both her wrists, pulled her arms up and pinned them above her head, giving him complete control of the situation.
He settled more fully on top of her, his thighs forcing hers farther apart, and then he pressed his dick into her over and over again, setting his body on fire. He crushed his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, passionately. The taste of her something he wouldn’t ever get enough of. Their moans mingled, and once he began to move, there was no stopping him. He was lost in her.
He plunged into her, fast and deep and strong, a rich seductive rhythm that pulsed as vitally as his heartbeat. His hips ground against hers with each driving, impaling thrust until he felt her go rigid against him and he let go. A low growl erupted from his chest and vibrated through them. With a violent jerk, his lower body arched into her high and hard, riding those aching, flexing pulses until he came in a blinding climax of intoxicating speed and throbbing sensation.
Unable to get enough of her soft body, he rested against her, his lungs felt tight, his breathing labored as though he’d been running for miles. Blood pounded
in his temples, and his heart thundered against the wall of his chest. He should never have touched her. Now, what was he going to do? She was under his skin…had been working her way there over the course of this cluster of an op. Dana had the kind of presence that couldn’t be ignored, the scent of her, the softness of her skin beneath his hands, the taste of her on his tongue, and the gripping need to drive inside her and make her his was too potent to overcome. At that moment, nothing else mattered.
Never had a woman affected him on such a primitive, I-need-to-get-you-now level, but Dana had that effect on him since day one. She had him at baby blue terry cloth. It had just been a matter of time before they acted on their mutual attraction. There confrontations and arguments had just been freaking foreplay.
“Are we ever going to get naked?”
“Not today, cupcake. Not out here.”
She nodded, a sated, sexy smile curved her lips. It was all he could do not to do her all over again. “So it’s a battle fuck then?”
His laughter erupted at her words. Her eyes full of mischief and so alive. She looked…beautiful, and he couldn’t help but touch her again, caress her soft, warm cheek with the back of his knuckles and smooth her disheveled hair away from her face. The depth of tenderness weaving through his system startled him, and he dismissed the thoughts filtering in his mind before he followed through on them.
He’d been bitter for so many years, maybe it was just too late for him to ever recover and have anything that was real and true in his life. Or maybe he was too damn stubborn. Whatever it was, he knew this was temporary. Overcome by adrenaline and pure, unadulterated mutual attraction.
“Battle fuck?”
“Yeah, a quick one between conflict.”
“I’m sorry…” he began.
Her eyes sparkling, she breathed, “Oh, no. You have nothing to be sorry for, at all. That was…delicious.”
Something unknotted inside his chest, and he smiled. “You are a warrior woman.”
“I think that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
He moved off her and they cleaned up. He had to admit, he had driven her hard, partly to keep her off balance and partly to keep his mind off doing her up against the nearest tree.
After they had eaten, packed up the tent and shouldered their packs, she said in a soft voice. “You should laugh more often. You have a nice one.”
“And ruin all this aggressive male shit I have going here? Not on your life. Now get that shapely ass in motion, babe.”
Before he could lead the way, she grabbed his shoulder and said, her voice low and sweet, “That was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.”
He tipped up her chin. “Really? Well, wait until I get you somewhere we can safely get naked. We’ll have battalion sex.”
“Battalion sex. Oh, my. I don’t think I can wait. Is that a big, never-ending column of power?”
He chuckled. “God help me. You do have a way with words,” he said as he stepped toward the trees.
Pointing to herself, she laughed and said as if it was obvious, “Reporter.”
They trekked for miles, the jungle so thick in places, razor-sharp thorns would have torn them apart if he didn’t have the machete, a requirement in this overgrown monstrosity of an ecosystem.
He was soaked through again, but the culprit wasn’t the rain, but the moisture rich jungle and his own sweat.
“This looks familiar,” Dana said, then he stopped, and she plowed into him. There was a skull on a stake, a warning to people that the FARC owned this territory. The surface was rain-polished to a shine, the jawbone missing. It seemed symbolic of the fact that the dead couldn’t talk.
“Not far from here is Palo de Letras, Panama’s border. There’s a stone obelisk marking the divide.”
Moving on, they came out to a worn trail. “This is it,” she whispered, her voice hushed in the dusk. In the deepening gloom, he saw a poured-concrete marker, part of the Carretera del Darién, a through-highway that was never built. There was a hubcap from a Chevrolet Corvair, casualty of a 1961 expedition. Ruckus looked up as the whop, whop of rotor blades from one of the Senafront helicopters beat in the sky.
“Rogue One to Ruckus, over.”
He touched his throat mic. “Ruckus, over.”
“Boss,” Scarecrow said. “We’ve been out of touch both by satellite and by radio because of the storms. We’re about ten miles out. Do you have a location for Salazar?”
“Negative. Give me five.” He keyed the mic off.
He turned to her and grasped her arms and asked, “Dana, where is Salazar?”
She bit her lip and looked away. “You promise you will let me go with you.”
He wasn’t big on lying, but Dana was adamant that she was going with him, and he couldn’t let her. Salazar was dangerous, and he wanted her back. He wasn’t going to give the bastard the opportunity to snatch her up again. “I promise. Now tell me. We’re going to find the nearest village after that and get something to eat, regroup and resupply. Then it’s Salazar.”
She searched his eyes, and he guessed she was happy with what she saw. He felt immediately guilty, but pushed it aside. He had his orders. Get the woman to safety and get the package by any means.
“He’s in Santa Clara at the resort there. He’s mixing business with pleasure, some woman he met in Panama City. Something urgent came up with his Mexican partners. He’s going to be there for another week, I think.”
“A working vacation? Just outside of Panama City?”
“Yes. I guess even drug runners and murderers need a break.”
He shook his head. This was a bit more complicated. Bagging Salazar at a busy resort was going to take some finesse, some recon, and a whole hell of a lot of planning. But first he had to get Dana out of harm’s way and on a plane back to the States, find transpo and get himself some civvies nice enough for a resort. The problem was he had no cash on him.
He keyed his mic and relayed the information to his team.
“What are your orders, sir?”
“Get some cash somehow—”
“I have cash,” Dana interrupted.
“Standby,” Ruckus said. He turned his head slowly and met her gaze. “You have cash? Why?”
She gave him a wry smile. “For porters, equipment, bribes and stuff.”
He frowned. This woman never ceased to amaze him. “How much do you have?”
“Seven thousand,” she said as if she was going to loan him twenty bucks.
“What? On you?”
She gave him a patient look. “I have a concealed pouch in my pack, so yes, on me. Most of it is American, but I have some of it in pesos.”
“Son of a bitch. That will do.” He said into the mic, “Belay the order for cash.”
Dana moved off, searching the skies.
“Instead, go to the airport and scope it out. We need to get her on the next possible flight.”
“The cupcake package?” Wicked asked, amusement in his voice.
“Yeah, the cupcake package. Make sure it’s all clear before I bring her in.”
“Copy that LT. Rogue One out.”
A burst of gunfire in the distance, propelled Ruckus into motion. He ran up the trail and grabbed her arm and dragged her off into the trees. Before he realized it, they were surrounded by so many armed men, they couldn’t move. He whispered, “Stay here. I’m going to make a hole and we’re going through it.”
Before she could protest, he was grabbing the only claymore he had, a detonable bomb filled with metal balls that would disperse into the kill zone like a shotgun blast. But he had to get close enough to punch the hole for them to get through.
With automatic weapons fire all around him, explosions going off, he sprinted into the melee and deposited the mine behind a log. Then he ran full out back toward Dana’s position. Her wide, terrified eyes showed nothing but relief when he returned. He grabbed her head and pressed it against his chest, shielding her the best he co
uld with his body. He blew the mine and the sound of it was deafening, drowning out everything. Before the sound waves of the blast had fully spread, he was up and running with Dana in tow, they slipped through the hole he made avoiding the bodies littering the ground.
Once through he kept going, the confusion of the blast along with the armed conflict hid them effectively from notice.
It was dark when they made the small town, a community of round, thatch-roofed huts that sloped up the mountainside to slash-and-burn plots. Going around to the back of one of the homes, he pulled some clothes off a makeshift line, two pairs of khaki pants, a light blue T-shirt and a blue cotton shirt and a couple pairs of boxer briefs. In the dense overgrowth, just beyond the small hut, he changed, stuffing his uniform and spare clothes into the pack. He broke down his M4, stowing the pieces inside as well, but buckled his 9mm back on, covering it with the loose shirttail.
He shouldered his pack and took her hand. “Let me do the talking,” he said. “I speak fluent Spanish.”
“I do, too,” she said in Spanish. She accessed her secret pouch and pulled out a substantial amount in pesos, giving the money to him.
“Nice, but let’s keep this simple. We get food, a room, hopefully with a shower, and a good night’s rest in a bed. Then we restock and buy a boat. We can take the river the rest of the way to Yaviza, then grab transpo once we get there to take us into Panama City.
She nodded. “Agreed. A bed sounds wonderful.”
He took her hand again and went onto the main thoroughfare and soon came to a cantina. There were a number of people occupying the tables, chairs and the barstools. He walked up to the bar, people giving them curious looks. “Hi. We’re looking for food and a place to stay. You have anything available?”
The woman smiled and nodded, introducing herself as Sienna, giving him a price for a room. She was British, her accent thick. “That include a shower?” She nodded again. He paid her and then they got a meal of fried fish and rice. It tasted a lot better than the MREs.