Jungle Inferno

by Desiree Holt

  He knew what they wanted—the name of the man who had betrayed them. They could kill him and very well might but the source had to be protected at all costs.

  Yet as much as they tortured him, for sport and pleasure as well as information, there were things he hung onto that kept his sanity intact. For one thing, despite his wounds he kept himself alert and counted the bodies. One was missing, Joey Latrobe. The kid. The sniper. Rick’s brother, who’d brought them the information. Mark was convinced he wasn’t dead or they’d have found him. No, badly wounded or not, he’d found a way to hide from them. Now if Mark could only be sure he got away.

  But what gave him real strength was his connection to Faith. God. Beautiful Faith. The woman of his dreams. How stupid was he to walk away from what they could have to play soldier? No, not that. To defend his country. His sense of honor and patriotism was stronger than almost anything. But now, if he died here in this godforsaken hellhole, the only memory he’d have would be that long weekend they’d shared before he was deployed the first time.

  And the erotic dreams that came to wipe away the pain.

  When he closed his eyes she was in his arms again, her lush body naked against his, her breasts pressing against his chest. His hands coasted over her satiny skin, fingertips exploring every dip and hollow.

  “It’s a good thing you aren’t around when I’m planning a mission,” he murmured, his lips against her throat. “I just look at you and my cock gets so big I’m afraid my pants won’t contain it.”

  Her laugh was throaty and musical, and her fingers drifted down to close around his thick erection. “Good. That’s the way I like it.”

  She moved her hand in a slow pumping motion and he groaned at the heat that rushed through him. Lowering his head he closed his lips over one taut nipple, pulling it into his mouth. It hardened even more at his touch and when he dragged his teeth over it lightly her grip on his cock tightened.

  “Easy.” He released the nipple and lapped around the edge of it. “We don’t want the dance to end when the music has just begun.”

  “Ah, but we can always dance again,” she reminded him.

  He tasted the skin in the valley between her breasts, doing his best to take control of the situation even as her fingers continued to stroke the hard, thick length of his cock. Light movements that teased him and heated his blood.

  But then just being near her did that.

  He drew tiny circles with his tongue in her navel, feeling the heat of her body scorching him. He inhaled, drawing her scent into his nostrils, her own perfume mingled with the musk of her arousal. His cock flexed in her fingers.

  His tongue followed the sweet indentation where her thigh and hip joined, just a light, flickering touch. She whimpered a tiny sound that pierced him like a bolt of lightning. With a swift movement he lifted her hand from his shaft, rolled her to her back and spread her legs wide. Enjoying for a moment the sight of her pussy glistening with her juices, he bent his head and licked her slit end to end, giving the tip of her clit a tiny caress with his tongue.

  God, she smelled and tasted so damn sweet. Better than any drink he’d ever had. Better than the fanciest dessert. He took his time lapping her labia, sucking in every drop of juice on her tender flesh. His cock ached unbearably, the need to slide into her so great he shook with it. But he refused to deny himself the pleasure of her taste, or her scalding response to it.

  Faith cried out, tunneling her fingers in his hair and clutching at his head. Her juices bathed his tongue, making her passage slick as he thrust his tongue inside her. He always tried to slow down but just touching her ramped up her hunger to such a level that he had only a thin veneer of control.

  Capturing her clit with thumb and forefinger, he tongue-fucked her in earnest, with hard, steady strokes, her cream coating his tongue. The walls of her pussy fluttered, then clenched.

  “Oh, please,” she begged.

  He pinched her cit, hard, and she came with an explosion of desire, her cunt sucking his tongue in and locking it in place. Her hips bucked as he lapped and sucked and drew every last quiver from her. But when she laid back, limp, he rose to his knees and reached for the condom he’d tossed onto the mat beside them. Positioning the head of his cock at the entrance to her pussy, with one hard movement drove himself home.

  She tightened around him, her breath hitching as she wrapped her legs around him and locked her ankles at the small of his back. Sliding his hands beneath the soft firmness of her ass, he thrust into her again and again and again. Even as her aftershocks were dying away new spasms began to ripple though her. She matched his rhythm, lifting herself to him as he slammed into her over and over.

  The climax caught them both at once. As the walls of her pussy milked him she cried out his name again and again. He collapsed on her, both of them covered with sweat, hearts beating hard and erratically.

  God, he loved this woman. Loved being with her. Loved fucking her.

  He buried his face against her soft shoulder.

  Faith!

  He opened his eyes to find himself still in the ragged tent in the stinking Peruvian rainforest, anchored to a stake. His leg and his head throbbed. But so did his cock, images of the dream still dancing in his head like some kind of erotic butterflies.

  Faith!

  Had she gotten his message? Since they’d discovered their shared ability in their teens, their telepathic communication had been a fun thing for them, a way to shut everyone else out and communicate only with each other. But the Army had learned about his special skill and had people work with him to develop it even more. Hone it. Refine it. One of the men on this mission was also a telepath. And Chase Wohlmann could construct psychic shields. That meant he could put invisible walls in place to prevent strangers—or enemies—from reading their message. He could also protect them from assaults on their minds.

  But Chase was dead. Burned in the mass funeral pyre. Mark nearly vomited every time he thought about that horrific scene.

  Mark knew one of the men in the camp was a telepath. He’d felt it when he sent the first message. The slamming shut of the mental barrier. Preventing a message from Faith from getting through. He’d have to be very careful.

  “Well, Captain Halloran.”

  The acquired British accent punctured his thoughts. Mark looked up at the man who’d come into the tent, the arms dealer who should be dead now instead of standing in front of him. Tall and lean, aristocratic in bearing, his disdain not only for Mark but for the men who bought his merchandise was evident. Mark knew he’d be long gone by now if not for the information he was seeking. Each time Mark was dragged to the center of the camp for whatever torture the men devised, this man stood watching with eyes that glittered, a tiny smile curving his lips.

  “No cheery greeting?” the man asked, then kicked the open cut on Mark’s leg.

  Mark gritted his teeth and forced himself to show as little reaction as possible. So far he’d been able to keep from saying anything to his captors. They could kill him and they very well might but he’d never open his mouth.

  “Ah, well. No matter. I’d really love to be gone from here but unfortunately you have information I need.” He deliberately stepped on the injured leg.

  Mark ground his teeth and swallowed a scream.

  “You could save yourself a lot of pain, you know. I will use whatever means the men devise to find out how you knew about this camp and who organized this little mission of yours. This could seriously jeopardize plans already in place, not to mention affecting my business enterprises.” He nodded toward the open flap and two men entered. Unshackling Mark from the stake they lifted him by his arms and half-walked, half-carried him outside.

  “Oh and by the way,” the man called after him. “We counted the bodies carefully. One of your men is missing. Wherever he is, we’ll find him.”

  Please, God, keep Joey safe.

  Then Mark concentrated on clearing his mind of everything but an image of Faith
and projecting one short message before they shut him down.

  Come…need…

  * * * * *

  Vivi had brewed a fresh pot of lotus tea, an herbal tea blended for meditation and wisdom. Faith loved the scent of fresh flowers that lingered over the pale golden infusion of white lotus, chamomile, chrysanthemum and linden. She had kept her own supply ever since her aunt introduced her to it.

  They were seated at the kitchen table again, this time joined by Sarah Winston and Emily Ross, the two women Vivi had called. They were the first members of The Lotus Circle Faith had met besides her aunt, and had helped her enormously as she struggled to grow into and control her power. As two of her guides when she became a member of the Circle, they had come today without hesitation.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” she told them, nervously stirring her tea. “Mark and I have never done anything with our…ability…except communicate with each other. I know you think we wasted it but it was a very private thing with us, something we chose not to share. Or use in a way that included others.”

  Sarah put her hand on Faith’s arm. “That is your choice, sweetheart. Being a telepath doesn’t mean you have to do anything with it except what you feel comfortable with. The Lotus Circle is only to help people expand their powers fully and teach them how to direct them. And be here, like today, when we’re needed.”

  “Have you had any more messages?” Emily asked.

  Faith shook her head. “I told Aunt Vivi I’m sure someone’s blocking him. He can’t—”

  Running out…time….

  She gripped the edge of the table, Mark’s voice out of nowhere sharp and clear in her head. A sharp, stabbing pain in her ribs followed it, almost doubling her over.

  “Faith, honey?”

  Vivi was beside her at once, arms around her, pulling her into the jasmine scent that always surrounded her.

  “I heard him.” Faith could hardly get the words out. “And felt the pain again. Oh, Aunt Vivi, he’s in agony. Something terrible’s happening to him. Right now.”

  “All right, sweetheart.” She wrapped Faith’s hands around her cup and helped her lift it. “Sip your tea, just a little to calm you. We won’t get anywhere if your nerves are jangled and interfering.”

  In a few moments Faith felt herself relax a little but a fine line of tension still ran through her body.

  “Faith.” Emily leaned forward. “You must try again to get through to him. If you can’t, we’ll work on something else.”

  “All right. I’ll do my best.” She closed her eyes, still holding her tea cup and did the mental exercises she used to clear her mind. Finally, when she was ready, she brought up a clean image of Mark, a happy image. “I’m here. Can you hear me?”

  “Let’s all do this together,” Sally suggested, when it was apparent there was no response. “We’ll all focus on the same message.”

  “Wait.” Emily put down her cup. “We need to increase our strength.” Motioning to the others, she indicated they should leave their seats and form a circle around Faith. “Join hands, please. Left palm up, right palm down, hands interwoven to create an energy ring.”

  In the thick silence filling the room, Faith absorbed the power the women were infusing into her. She called up an image of Mark and focused her mind on it.

  “Mark. I’m here.”

  After five minutes the lack of response was a strong indication someone had erected a thick shield that prevented Mark from hearing her. Or answering her. The energy ring wasn’t piercing the shield.

  “Five more minutes,” Aunt Vivi said.

  When the words broke the silence Faith jerked, startled.

  You. Come…South America…in South America.

  “Mark! Give me a clue.”

  But it was obvious the barrier was in place again.

  “All right.” Vivi refilled everyone’s cups as they took their places at the table again. “We need to have a plan.” Vivi stirred her tea and looked at her friends. “Ladies, we need to figure out how we can pierce that shield and help these two exchange messages more clearly. Honey, Sally, Emily and I will work on that. You’ve never stretched yourself to that level and you might only be a distraction.”

  “I can’t do nothing,” she protested.

  “I know you’ve just started a new book,” Sarah began but Faith interrupted her.

  “Forget that.” She waved her hand. “The book is on hold until I find Mark. For him to ask me for help means he’s in serious trouble. Right now that’s the only important thing.” She looked at her aunt. “Don’t make me sit on the sidelines and wait.”

  “Of course not.” Vivi gave her a warm smile. “You need to keep sending that message. Do it on a regular basis. Clear your mind and focus. And, my dear, you’re going to use abilities you possess that we don’t. Your skills as a writer.”

  Faith wrinkled her brow. “I don’t understand.”

  “I want you to start your own investigation. We have a general geographic location. Use all your contacts to see if you can find out what Mark’s last mission was. And get that research assistant of yours busy on digging up anything she can on hot spots in South America, or rumors of dangerous activity, that would require a Special Ops mission.”

  Energy surged through Faith and for the first time since she’d gotten the initial message from Mark she felt she was doing something positive. “I’ll start right away.”

  Chapter Three

  Faith stared at the pad of paper in front of her, the top page filled with notes in her neat handwriting. As soon as she’d arrived back at her house she seated herself at her desk and begun to make lists.

  Who to call? That was the big question. With Special Ops you couldn’t just pick up the telephone and ask if the Army had misplaced one of its teams. Because that’s what she had to find out first. Mark never operated alone. He was always part of a team. Four years ago he’d become a team leader. Although he said little about it, she had a feeling he was considered among the elite. But that only meant he got the most dangerous missions. The jobs no one else could be trusted with.

  The men tapped for Special Ops were considered “special warriors, thoroughly prepared, properly equipped and highly motivated, at the right place, at the right time, facing the right adversary, leading the Global War on Terrorism, accomplishing the strategic objectives of the United States”. Gathered from the ranks of the Navy, the Army and the Marines, they were the point men in the war on terrorism. This was all Mark had wanted from the minute he entered the Army.

  Faith let her eyes travel to the picture of him in his dress uniform taken the last weekend she’d seen him. Their very long, very physical, very emotional weekend together before his first deployment six years ago. Tears pricked at her eyelids. They had taken so much for granted, stupidly assuming life would wait for them.

  Why hadn’t she protested when he said he didn’t want to tie her down? That seeing each other more often would only make it worse. That he had a job to do for his country and he needed to focus on it and not feel guilty about always leaving her. That she had a life she needed to live.

  “I don’t want you sitting at home waiting for bad news, darlin’,” Mark had told her. “This way you have the chance to move ahead with your life.”

  As if she could. As if she’d ever do anything but sit and wait for word. Just as she had for these past years. It had taken that weekend to show her just how much she loved him. And teach her that she needed to keep it to herself until Mark felt he was ready for that kind of commitment.

  If—no, when—she got him out of this mess, there would be some changes in the rules. That was for damn sure.

  She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and pushed her hair back behind her ears.

  Okay.

  First, the Hallorans. She knew Mark kept in touch with them, through letters or phone calls. Maybe both. And on the rare occasions he could squeeze in a weekend, he always found time to spend a day with Faith.

&n
bsp; “Can’t lose touch with special friends,” he always told her.

  Friends! Since that one weekend they’d spent together, when friendship had been tucked into a corner, she’d wanted a whole lot more. And he might deny it but she was sure in her heart that Mark did too. Then he’d been deployed for a long time and now those years had passed.

  She’d made it a habit to stop by and say hello to the Hallorans, even for a moment, whenever she was at her parents’ place. They were her connection to Mark when mental messages couldn’t get through.

  Sometimes she thought for all the excitement she had in her social life she could still be living at home but her parents had pushed her out of the nest with firmness and affection and a door always open.

  “Time to grow up,” her father teased.

  With her first big royalty checks she bought herself a tiny house in northwest San Antonio, not too far from either her family or Aunt Vivi. While she’d been writing her political thrillers she’d also been honing her telepathic skills, an activity she never discussed with her parents. Aunt Vivi and The Lotus Circle had helped her and also provided a respite from her hectic life as a writer.

  Faith shook herself. Letting her mind wander wouldn’t get her anyplace. Concentrate. The Hallorans.

  Did…hear me?

  Faith dropped her pen.

  Mark!

  Yes. I heard you. Can you hear me?

  She held her breath as the silence stretched unbearably. Then, just as she felt frustration grip her again, one word.

  Yes.

  She wanted to laugh and cry. He’d heard her! He knew she’d gotten his message.

  I’ll find you, Mark. Wherever you are.

  More silence but she forced herself to wait with as much patience as she could manage.

  South America in…

  Faith wanted to scream in frustration.

  Where, Mark? Where in South America? Help me. It’s a big continent.