Danger Close

by Marliss Melton

  "What about the other guy?"

  "Multiple gunshot wounds to the chest. Weak vitals. He's on his way out."

  Damn. Sam had wanted to try at least one of the bastards for putting Maddy through hell. The silhouettes of neighbors coming out of their houses wrested his attention toward other matters.

  "Haiku, call for immediate extraction," he ordered. Shifting his weight to his knees, he drew Maddy to a seated position. "You okay, querida?" The endearment slipped out of him as naturally as breathing. Tipping her chin so she was forced to look into his eyes, he added, "Christ, I am never letting you out of my sight again."

  He halfway expected her to protest his assertion. Instead, she fastened her clear wide eyes on him and declared, "I don't ever want you to."

  * * *

  Maddy sat curled up in a ball in her bathtub while the shower rained down on her in a steady warm stream.

  It's over, she told herself as she'd already done about a hundred times in an effort to subdue the shudders that still wracked her naked frame. Minute by minute, the horror of her captivity and the shock engendered by the violence she'd witnessed trickled down her limbs, out of her hands and feet, and swirled down the drain.

  Sam's colleague, a medic with large gentle hands and empathetic eyes had looked her over. "Name's Jeremiah," he'd told her, declaring her to be in good shape. "You're one lucky lady," he'd added.

  She boasted a cut just above her eyebrow and another on her lip, but the rest of her had emerged unscathed. And when he'd tactfully inquired whether her captors had hurt her in any way, she'd been able to reply in the negative because Salim, who'd been dead by the time they'd slid his stretcher into the back of one of the Humvees, had kept his word. He'd protected her with his life. With his final gasps, he'd even shot the scarred devil trying to hamper her escape.

  A wave of grief pegged Maddy in the chest. Her face crumpled and hot tears mingled with the water that was slowly turning colder. She would never forget Salim's gentleness, nor his apology accompanied by the bittersweet kiss he'd planted on her lips. A vision of Nasrallah, who could not have been more than eighteen, lying in a pool of blood made her sob suddenly. She let herself weep quietly, to honor them both for their willingness to die for a cause they believed in. In that regard, they were kindred spirits, she and the brothers.

  By degrees, the low timbre of male voices penetrated Maddy's awareness. Someone, probably Sam, had joined the medic Jeremiah in her living room. With a sharp sniff, Maddy pulled herself together. She couldn't let the men think the trauma of her captivity had broken her spirit. Not at all. If anything, Salim's quest to hold Scott Oil accountable for the slow poisoning of El Chaco bolstered her own resolve.

  Shutting off the water, she pushed to her feet, wondering how long she'd dawdled. It was time to shake off recent horrors and move forward. There was work yet to be done.

  Toweling off, she girded herself in a thin cotton robe and ventured out of the bathroom. At the sound of the door opening, Sam and Jeremiah both turned to look.

  Sam cast a protective gaze over her.

  "There she is," the medic said. When neither Sam nor Maddy acknowledged him, he added, "I'd better be heading back." He tossed a knowing smile over his shoulder as he pulled her front door shut behind him.

  In some form of silent agreement, Sam and Maddy split the distance between them, meeting in the middle of the room. "I called your father," he volunteered, his unwavering gaze still fixed on her face, possessive, concerned. "Have you ever heard a grown man cry?"

  "He does that all the time," she assured him, noting that Sam had scrubbed his face, removing all traces of the dark paint that had covered it earlier. "He's really a big softy."

  "He wants to talk to you, no matter how late it is. You can call him. Look." He led her over to the kitchen counter where her phone sat charging.

  "You found it," she exclaimed, picking it up and hugging it to her chest—her lifeline to civilization.

  "Sure did. That was good thinking hiding it in the van," he praised. "Might have worked, too, if they hadn't abandoned the vehicle out in the middle of nowhere."

  She put the phone down, thrusting away the memory of that awful night. "I'll call my father tomorrow," she decided. He would expect her to come home right away, and right now she didn't have the heart to verbally defy him. Looking up at Sam, she found him hovering protectively. His unwavering gaze made her sharply conscious of her nakedness under the thin robe.

  "How are you doing, querida?" His gruff, gentle tone had a curious, tingling effect on her nipples. His astute gaze took in everything about her face, from her red-rimmed eyes to the cuts that gave testimony to her nightmare.

  "I'm good," she said breathlessly.

  A spasm of pain hardened his features briefly. "I thought I'd never see you again." He shook his head. "You're so damn lucky to be alive."

  "It wasn't luck," she told him, sharing a part of herself she rarely shared with anyone. "It was fate. My mother's spirit watches over me. She kept me safe so I could finish the work she started."

  His torn expression made it clear he didn't fully believe her. "Maddy." Her name sounded as if it were torn from his chest. His warm hands gently cupped her face. With a slight tremor in his fingers, he caressed the cut on her lip with his thumb, the one above her eye with his index finger. "Please," he implored, his voice rough with emotion, "please don't put me through anything like this ever again."

  If he'd said it any other way, she might have taken exception to his request. But how could she resent his desire to keep her out of harm when he begged her so honestly?

  "I'll try not to," she promised. She had no intention of ever being kidnapped again, if that meant anything.

  Tears of what might have been relief put a sheen in his eyes. "You must be tired," he said, dropping his hands to her upper arms. "Would you like to rest?"

  She glanced thoughtfully toward her bedroom. Honestly, she was too keyed up to sleep.

  "I can just hold you if you'd like," he said, stroking her arms through the sleeves of her robe, stirring her desire unintentionally.

  "I don't want to sleep," she said, hearing his breath suspend as he waited for her to say more. "But I would like to go to bed," she hinted, boldly.

  Comprehension lit his green eyes from the inside out. He gave her one last chance to change her mind. "By yourself or with me?" he asked.

  "With you, silly." Sliding her arms around his neck, Maddy rolled up on her tiptoes and carefully touched her lips to his. His indrawn breath and the tightening of his arm around her waist emboldened her to deepen the kiss, parting her lips in invitation. Desire warmed her blood, banishing the last remnants of shock that had congealed in her belly.

  With infinite gentleness, Sam accepted her offer. The sweet, seductive glide of his tongue against hers made her moan into his mouth.

  In the next instant, he was sweeping her up into his arms, carrying her with long strides into the bedroom where he promptly kicked the door shut. Keeping the light on, he deposited her gently in the center of her bed before stepping away to draw the curtains shut. "I want to see you this time," he explained. "Do you mind?"

  She shivered with expectancy. "Only if I get to see you, too." The last time they'd gone this far, he'd left his clothes on. "Is anyone going to knock on the door and interrupt us?"

  "Not if they value their lives," he grated, tackling the buttons on his BDU jacket. He shrugged it off before stripping off the tan T-shirt under it with equal expedience. She feasted her gaze on what lay beneath it—olive-toned skin, a flat abdomen rippling with defined muscles, raised pectorals with a dusting of dark hair between them, broad shoulders and powerful arms. A vision of Salim's hairy chest flashed briefly through her mind before she banished it.

  "You look good," she admitted, focusing her attention on the black-ink tattoo that adorned his right arm from bicep to shoulder. "What's your tattoo about?"

  He turned his shoulder to show it to her. "It's my gr
andmother's family crest. When Castro took over, her family was forced to flee. She still takes pride in her heritage."

  "So do you," she pointed out. "It looks really sexy on you."

  He shot her a grin. "Thanks." And then the show continued as he shucked off his boots. With an intentional slowness, he unbuttoned the fly of his desert-pattern cammies then pushed them down and off his legs, discarding his boxer briefs in the same fluid movement. Maddy's mouth went dry at the vision of him, completely nude, blatantly aroused, enduring her wide-eyed scrutiny with mixed confidence and vulnerability. "How do I look now?"

  If she told him the truth—that she'd never in her life seen a man as gorgeous as he was—he'd get an overblown ego. "I think I'm overdressed," she said simply, sitting up to take off her robe.

  "Oh, no, that's my job," he protested, pushing her gently back and coming to kneel over her.

  She watched him undress her, studying every nuance of his reaction as he did so, all but panting with anticipation as he tugged at the belt that kept her gown closed. With reverence in his expression, he peeled back the two halves the way a kid would take the wrapper off his favorite sweet, only more slowly.

  "Dios," he muttered, inspecting every curve and indent now exposed to him. And then he looked her in the eye. "Do you know how much I've regretted not making love to you the last time?" he asked thickly.

  Unexpected relief clogged her throat. How gratifying to know she wasn't the only one who'd entertained that regret.

  "I was so afraid I'd never get the chance again. Maddy, you're the most beautiful, most sexy, most maddening woman I've ever met."

  "Hence the name?" she teased. Her close call had brought them to the same realization. They were meant for each other.

  Desire drew his face taut. Stretching his frame over hers, he settled his weight over her body and claimed her mouth with a kiss that promised heaven. Tears of gratitude that she had lived to experience this moment slipped from the edges of her eyes. He caught sight of them, raising his head with a frown of worry.

  "I'm okay," she said before he could question her. "I'm more than okay." And she pulled him down to kiss her again, adjusting her body so that their skin touched from shoulder to ankle, a perfect fit.

  And then his lips seemed to be everywhere at once—on her mouth, her neck, her breasts, back to her mouth—inciting a craving to be utterly consumed by him. She touched him, in turn, filling her hands with his dense muscle, his smooth skin.

  A scar pinched the muscle under his left arm, another slashed his forearm. Envisioning the type of injuries he'd sustained to cause them only increased her gratitude for this life-affirming moment. They had both survived perils in order to arrive at this place in time, a connection that might possibly alter the course of both their lives.

  He slid his hand down the plane of her belly between her hips, pressing the heel of his palm into the valley between her pelvic bones. She arched in welcome, inviting his fingers to furrow through her honey-colored hair into the moist cleft below.

  Her soft cry of encouragement urged him to repeat the caress, centering his attention on the swollen nubbin there, so sensitive that each glide of his fingers threatened to send her toppling off a cliff.

  "Please," she implored, not wanting to take that plunge alone. She caught his tumescence in her hand, stroking him, marveling at the flagrant masculinity of his form, encouraging him with wanton words to take her now, to take all of her.

  He shot her a scalding look that promised that and more, spread her legs with his knees, and settled himself between her thighs. The head of his sex nudged her opening and retreated. Maddy gasped, bracing herself for his possession, for the torrid pleasure she sensed about to consume her. He encroached again, studying her face in the lamplight as he slowly and intently filled her.

  Yes. Oh, God. She fought to keep her eyelids from drifting shut as ecstasy stormed her senses. This moment, she thought, committing it to her memory forever, will sustain me no matter what the future holds.

  * * *

  Sam had never seen anything so sexy in his life—Maddy's gaze unfocused, her moist lips parted so enticingly that he longed to kiss her, but then he wouldn't be able to watch her response to his possession.

  She yielded in a way that enthralled him, their bodies moving in perfect sync, in a dance as old as time. Breaths mingled in a duet of delicious discovery, muscles tightened in a relentless compulsion to pursue this insatiable wanting to its ultimate destination.

  "Sam," she breathed. A sheen of sweat glinted between her swaying breasts. She coiled her legs around his back, using them to pull him harder, deeper into her.

  "Yes, baby?"

  "I always knew this was going to happen."

  He gave a pained laugh. He'd been terrified something bad would happen to her to prevent it. Gratitude overwhelmed him suddenly, compelling him to bow his head and catch that kiss he'd been craving.

  His senses immediately overloaded. The dance of their tongues in tandem with the sinuous movements of her body hurtled him toward climax. He tried to hold it off, to bring Maddy to release first, but then he realized that her keening cry and the pulsing of her inner muscles signaled her timely arrival at the finish.

  With a loud groan he relinquished control, panicking for a split second at the realization that he wasn't wearing a condom—hadn't even given it a thought. He tried to pull out, but it was a little too late. He had spent most of himself inside of her. Christ, he'd better not do that again.

  He collapsed onto his side, pulling her over to rest against him. Their chests rose and fell together, their heart rates slowly subsiding. Sam adjusted the pillow under his head and looked down. A secret smile, so utterly feminine in its form, curved the lines of Maddy's mouth.

  "I was afraid you'd get yourself killed before I got the chance," he said, picking up the conversation where they'd left off.

  She arched an eyebrow at him. "Is that why you didn't want me heading overseas? Afraid you'd never get me into bed?"

  "Something like that," he admitted. Actually, his fears went way beyond that, but why bring up a sore subject? Only, he couldn't avoid it. "Maddy, I'm not going to be here much longer. Now that the threat to the oil wells has been pretty much eliminated, we're going to write our reports and head home. The CO wants us gone before the media finds us."

  A troubled expression crossed her face.

  "Did you... have plans?" he asked, keeping his question vague for fear of offending her and ruining this blissful moment.

  Her gaze slid off to one side and he just knew he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear. "I think I'll hang out in McLean for a while," she said, surprising and relieving his fears. "But first I have to run a few more tests." His momentary relief gave way to nagging concern.

  "Why?" he asked as gently as possible. "Can't GEF find someone else to take your place?"

  "I can't trust GEF to take samples from the right area." She explained her suspicions that someone—Scott Oil, perhaps, or the U.S. government itself had influenced GEF to avoid sampling the area of El Chaco where Salim had taken his photos.

  Earlier in the Humvee that transported them from the terrorists' house back to the military facility, she'd told Sam how Salim and his brother Nasrallah weren't members of Hezbollah. They were leaders of the National Liberation Army, Paraguayan patriots who had fought to keep El Chaco free from exploitation, to keep Scott Oil from profiting off the natural resources that belonged strictly to their adopted country.

  The truth hit Sam like a sledgehammer: She wanted to prove Salim's allegations and then insure that Scott Oil kept its promises to Paraguay by making restitution for the damage done.

  "Maddy, your dad's not the CEO anymore," he pointed out.

  She frowned intently. "I know that. But just because my uncle's the CEO, that doesn't mean he doesn't still have a say in the company."

  "Van Slyke is your uncle?" He pulled his head back to regard her in surprise. No wonder the man's ey
es had reminded him of Maddy's.

  "On my mother's side," she affirmed with a quizzical expression. "You make it sound like you know him."

  "Yeah, I met him the other night. He's living in the big house on the hill."

  "Seriously?" She had no idea her uncle was even in Paraguay. That might make her objective easier. She could convince him in person to open his doors to foreign investors, taking steps to undo the damage the wells had caused.

  "Maybe you should stay with him," Sam proposed, warming to the idea. "Especially if you're still here after we pull out. I don't like the thought of you living alone."

  "I'm not alone. Ricardo should be out of the hospital soon. Besides, I'm not staying long, maybe a week at the most."

  He didn't know what else to say. Persuading Maddy to abandon a task she'd set her heart on was impossible—he already knew that. "When you get back to Virginia, we can get together," he proposed, confident that she'd say yes.

  Her answering smile was nothing short of radiant. "I'm counting on it."

  "Good." He knew he was grinning like an idiot.

  She sat up a bit, propping her chin on her elbow. "I kind of like you, Sam Sasseville." The declaration ended on a great big yawn.

  Christ, she was adorable. "I kind of like you, too, Maddy Scott," he admitted. "And I could probably make love again right now, but you need to rest."

  A spark of interest lit her drooping eyes. "I'm not that tired."

  "Yes, you are. Come on. I'll tuck you in."

  "You can't stay with me?"

  The fear lacing her voice had him rushing to reassure her. "I'll stay until dawn," he promised. "Like I said, we'll be busy tomorrow tying up loose ends." And he'd get maybe two hours of sleep, but who cared? He would gladly stay awake the rest of his life if it meant he could watch over Maddy.

  He helped to situate them both under the covers. Maddy snuggled closer, releasing an exhausted but content sigh.

  I'm in paradise, Sam reflected closing his eyes and savoring the silky length of her body tucked against him. Paradise in El Chaco Boreal. He supposed it was fitting. And if Maddy managed to hold Scott Oil Corporation accountable for the waste it was spilling into the soil, it might just remain a paradise forever.