Once Teague was settled, Hunter dropped his hands to his knees, breathing hard. He glanced up and down Meredith’s bare body again, one corner of his mouth hitched upward. Shaking his head, he faced the ground again.
She bit her lip to keep from saying something that wouldn’t have been kind. So what if she was still in her underwear? There hadn’t been time to grab her clothes once she’d dropped them. She slapped a cloud of biting gnats away from her face. The insect life in this darned rainforest was eating her alive. But that was the least of her troubles. Something else was abundantly clear. And wrong.
She was afraid to ask. “Where’s Eric? Where are Seth and Ky?”
CHAPTER FOUR
“They’re gone,” Hunter replied as calmly as he could. It was nice she’d finally noticed his team had taken a few hits too. That this disaster wasn’t all about her. That he was the only man left who hadn’t been shot or was missing.
“Where are they?” Meredith all but shrieked.
What’d she think he was, a clairvoyant? “Will you keep it down? They never came back to camp. I thought they were with you.”
Despite their precarious circumstances, he couldn’t seem to control his snarky attitude. He jerked a thumb-sized flashlight from his pocket, but leveled it to the ground before he flicked it on. They were deep enough in this grove of bamboo to risk the dim light it offered.
“You had a light? All this time, you had a—”
“I couldn’t use it until we got far enough into the jungle, now could I?” He tapped his forehead. “Think, why don’t you. The light would’ve lead them to us.”
“B-b-but... but...” She stood there, her eyes wide and brimmed with tears and, damn it. He wasn’t going to fall for her again.
Setting the flashlight on its side near Teague, Hunter squeezed the bridge of his nose between two fingers, trying like hell to stave off the avalanche of feelings that always came with thoughts of Meredith. His head pounded like a mother. He really needed a cigarette, but he’d left camp without them, and he didn’t want to quit smoking now. Not like this.
Meredith Flynn, the girl who’d gotten away, was doing it to him again. Making him care when he didn’t want to have an ounce of feelings for her. And him without a nicotine hit in sight. Damn.
She slapped at the clouds of mosquitoes. Angry with her or not, he couldn’t help the protective urge that lifted its foolish head at the sight of her standing there, her knees knocked together, stray strands of sodden blonde in her face, and waving her hands like a little girl.
Hunter leaned his rifle beside the supply crate. “Did you guys pack bug spray in your kits?” he asked, unsnapping the lid off the crate, and wishing it was TEAM issued, not MI. Then he’d know exactly what supplies he had—and what extra weapons.
Her eyes widened. “Oh, right. I almost forgot.”
He grunted and shook his head. Typical civilian answer. I forgot—said no Marine—ever! Whoever’d packed the MI container was smart, though. Several aerosol cans of insect spray were handy. He snagged one and slapped the container’s lid shut.
“Turn,” he commanded. Uncapping the can with his thumb, he sprayed Meredith’s long legs with the life-saving industrial-strength Deet. Cargo pants were a godsend in more ways than one. At least he was half-covered while those skimpy things she called underwear were working his last nerve. Even in the dark glow of the flashlight, he was drawn like a moth to the nicely plump ass presented to him now, dotted with bug bites or not.
“Stop looking at my butt.”
“Then stop sticking it in my face. Bend over.”
That got her dander up. “Why should I?”
“Because I wanted to see if you were dumb enough to do it.” He stood, taking one more long spray up the crack of that taut satin-covered ass, then up her spine just to prove he could.
She shivered and wiggled as goosebumps lifted under the chill of the alcohol in the aerosol. Pivoting on the balls of her bare feet, she faced him, her chin-lift hard to miss.
Before she get a word in, he barked, ”Spread your arms, close your eyes, and shut your mouth.” Hunter barely gave her time to seal those baby blues up tight before he initiated another long sweep from her open palm, across her chest and under her neck on his way to her other arm. She winced. All those razor-sharp cuts from the copious blades of elephant grass and brush they’d run through had to sting. Bare skin had no place in the jungle, yet there she was, her delicious body on the menu for every bloodthirsty insect within a hundred-mile radius.
Hunter licked his lips, remembering her mouth and the sweet taste of strawberries and honey that came with it. Of moonlight and better days. They’d never taken that final jump into bed though, and for that one smart decision—or lack of one—he was damned glad. She was no lover. Just a girlfriend.
“I dropped my clothes,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth at him, her eyes still squeezed tight. Like he didn’t know she was nearly naked?
“I said shut up.” Hunter leveled a shot of repellant at her chin to enforce his command. When her lips were sealed again, he covered the rest of her with a repellant as well as a good dose of manly appraisal over her very desirable 38Cs. Her skimpy black bra looked more like a corset with tiny white ribbons crisscrossed from cup to cup and a cute little bow tied in between. Women. They always wore sexy stuff under their clothes.
Carefully, he doused her flat stomach before he gave her hips and thighs a good application. And inspection. The front of those boy shorts received extra close scrutiny—just because her eyes were finally closed along with her mouth.
One amusing thing about classy women like Meredith was that everything they owned matched. Must be some unspoken rule. Her bra and panties were no exception, both silky black with vertical silver stripes, stylishly trimmed with white lace. By then he was leaning in. A man didn’t often get close enough to taste a nearly bare-naked woman with curves like this one. If he kept this chivalry—or whatever it was—up, she’d be covered with more than just bug spray.
Not going to happen. He snapped the can into his thigh pocket for later use. But when his gaze rolled back to her, her eyeballs were just as rakishly scanning his bare chest as much as he’d been looking at hers. Half-naked men and women were like that, no matter what dire circumstances they were in. They noticed each other.
“See anything you like?” Her nasty sarcasm fit his mood.
“Nope.” It felt like they were always squaring off in the battle that had never taken place. Maybe they were.
“Where’s your shirt?”
“I was in the river when the shooting started. Guess it’s still hanging on the branch where I left it.”
“Why were you in the river?”
“I took a swim before bed.” Why’d she care?
“Were you naked?”
She would ask something like that, but damn, she could read him like a book. “So what if I was?”
A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “So, you went into a river full of piranha and saltwater crocodiles without clothes for no good reason other than to take a midnight dip? Don’t you guys have a shower at your camp?”
“I prefer the river, and there were no—”
“But there might have been. What the heck, Hunter? What were you thinking? You could’ve been hurt!” She stamped her right foot in that petulant way of hers, scolding him like she had a right.
Something unfurled in his chest, fluttering against his ribs like it wanted out. Might have been his heart. This damned woman still worried about him. Who would’ve thought?
She kept going. “You’ve seen the movies. What if giant snakes were swimming in that water? You never know. Don’t you ever do that again.”
Speaking of snakes…
The silver whisper of a spiraling shadow just beyond her shoulder caught his eye. Long and lean, the slippery fellow must’ve decided to investigate the warmth emanating from her hot, agitated body. In one quick step, Hunter pulled her f
orward into his chest, his right hand extended behind her to change that crafty snake’s mind—or the shape of its body.
“What are you doing?” She pushed halfheartedly away, her hands planted firmly on his pectorals. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t seem too determined to leave. Her fingers massaged where they’d landed.
“Nothing much,” he lied, focused on her so as not to cause any alarm. Meredith had a deathly fear of snakes, the last thing he needed to deal with tonight. One loud bloodcurdling scream would bring those murderers running.
Thank God, those baby blues seemed fixed to his chest. “You have a lot of tattoos.”
“Yes,” he ground out, more focused on the incredible strength of the undulating serpentine in his grasp than what Meredith thought of his ink, but still. Those dainty fingers of hers were a hefty distraction he didn’t need.
She smoothed a fingernail over the USMC symbol. “I never knew you were interested in joining the Marines.”
“I wasn’t.” He groaned. The damned winding thing now attached to the end of his arm was determined to live. He was just as determined it wouldn’t. Its forked tongue darted at Meredith when his fingers clenched below its broad, flat head, tight enough to strangle it.
“Hunter. Let me go,” the lady protested, kind of, her hands still soft and gentle on his chest. Her fingers roved over his nipples, tantalizing the hell out of him and hardening his body.
He hung on tightly, inadvertently to her as much as the snake, but holy hell. How blind was she? Oh, wait. She still had typical Meredith tunnel vision. Everything was always about her.
Reptilian muscles contracted around his wrist and forearm, writhing beyond her view and squeezing his arm while she studiously examined the tats on his chest.
Her extra warm body relaxed while his stiffened with the life-or-death struggle he was caught up in, but damn it. Poisonous or not, he wouldn’t let this thing near her.
The muscles in his arm trembled with the exquisitely tough battle of holding it away, while holding her in his other arm. Her fingers turned to silky acceptance instead of another rejection. She snuggled into him, her head under his chin like a lover. All that damp hair of hers spilled over his chest and curled around his arm.
“Oh, Hunter. I knew you still cared.”
Give me a break.
Like a vacuum with a mind of its own, his nostrils sucked her feminine essence back into his soul. Sweat. Flowers. And Meredith. He was going down fast. This snake had to die. Instead, it opened its mouth wide behind her head, either to hiss or because it was dying. No sound came out. Just two long, dripping fangs.
If the damned thing had been any bigger, it might have had a chance. As it was—
He groaned, his arm growing numb.
“I missed you.” Her lips brushed along his collarbone, her fingers tripping over his bare neck, lighting him up. Electricity sparked, a high-voltage arc that had no business surging between them. A different kind of thunder commenced inside his ribcage, one he’d not expected nor wanted to feel after all these years. Why the hell now?
With one big shudder, he wrapped his left arm protectively around her while, with the other hand, he broke the snake’s spine with one quick snap. Grunting, he flicked the still coiling reptilian body away.
Meredith finally looked over her damned shoulder. Of course, she did what she did best—overreacted. Shoving off, she turned into a prancing pony, squealing and standing on her tiptoes as if she could keep both bare feet off the ground at once—like that was humanly possible.
“A snake! A snake! You killed a snake! Right behind me! You killed a snake! Oh, my God!”
“Shhhhh,” he cautioned, glancing over his shoulder. “For hell’s sake, keep it down.”
“B-b-but... you killed a snake. There was a snake behind me and… and now it’s dead and… Oh, my God, Hunter! You killed a snake!”
No shit.
Her legs were straight, but Meredith bent over, holding all that blonde hair out of her eyes in one hand while she sputtered over the still twisting, dying reptile. And didn’t his blood run hot at the sight. She’d always been his dream girl, but seeing her in this particular position, with her butt sticking out like it was, didn’t do a thing to keep the blood supply in his brain.
Damn. He’d smack that ass just to see her jump, but she was hyperventilating like a silly high school cheerleader. Standing beside her like he was, his attention shifted automatically from her sexy backside to her voluptuous and very revealing bosom. Her sexy bra did little to support or cover those fine, full breasts, jiggling and within reach. With her fingers fanning her cleavage like they were and her legs still spread apart and stiff, holy shit. He was losing ground fast.
“B-b-but,” she sputtered again, still bent over, still hyperventilating, and still driving him to the edge of crazy.
Precisely. Butt—as in the very delectable derrière of the woman he’d once lost his heart and soul to. Also, as in—but—she was married. He turned his back on her, needing to get his mind on track before the rest of his blood supply went south. “It’s dead. Get over it.”
She straightened, her arms crossed, and her chest, heaving like the drama queen she always was. Women. She’d just shot a guy and survived an attempt on her life, yet she was afraid of a little snake? That thing was just a baby. Wait ‘til its mama showed up.
Sharp blue glaciers stabbed him like icicles. Her lower lip quivered. “You weren’t hugging me, were you? That’s not why you pulled me into your arms, was it? It didn’t mean anything. You were killing a snake.” She made it sound as if he’d betrayed her instead of saved her.
“It was that or let you get bitten.”
“B-b-but I thought—”
“You thought wrong.” He verbally slapped her down and turned his back on her because he couldn’t tolerate the sight of her succulent, heaving breasts anymore. Teague needed real help, and by then, so did Hunter. He adjusted his, umm, physical situation, before he could crouch beside the MI lead agent. Let Meredith think what she wanted. Did she even know what she was doing to him in that get-up? He could barely catch a breath and his pants had gotten tight. Damned tight. He parted his knees to free up some space.
“You used to be kind and thoughtful and... and sweet,” she whispered, her voice all breathy and sexy.
“I used to be a lot of things.” He shrugged her off and busied himself examining Teague’s vitals in order to get his brain out of the gutter. The MI lead agent had grown deathly quiet during the hurried retreat from camp, but when Hunter pressed his finger for a neck pulse, he felt a strong and steady beat. Teague might be shot, but he wasn’t at death’s door. Not yet, anyway.
Hunter pushed off the ground for more medical supplies.
Opening the crate brought Meredith to his side. “You called me Merry.”
So what? He’d been scared and had let his pet name for her slip. The endearment had gotten away from him before he’d had enough forethought to call it back. So what? It wouldn’t happen again.
“You’re still mad at me for marrying Eddy.”
“No, I’m not.” He turned away with a sealed canister of antiseptic wipes, a bottle of painkiller, and his heart locked tight. “Drop it.”
She followed. His nose twitched when the scent of her filled his nostrils. Sweat. Fear. A touch of flowery fragrance. But mostly, the smell forever ingrained in his soul, the uniquely sweet scent of Meredith’s lush lips and her satiny skin and...
Shit! Fighting for control, he ripped the foil seal from the can of wipes and took a deep whiff of antiseptic vapors to block the memory. She’d had her chance. Teague needed attention now. Not her. Never again her.
Meekly, she took the can from his hand. “I’ll do that.” Without asking permission, she knelt alongside Teague and administered to her wounded companion, wiping his brow.
Hunter pulled a bottle of water out of his gear bag and twisted the top off. Teague didn’t need cleaning as much as a drink. Easing one hand
beneath the unconscious man’s sweaty neck, Hunter placed the bottle to his mouth and poured a trickle between his lips. Automatically, Teague swallowed. Good sign. This guy just might make it after all.
I hope I do.
CHAPTER FIVE
Now that they weren’t running for their lives, Meredith risked an appraising glance at Hunter out of the corner of her eye. No socks, just boots. Loose laces. All the signs of a man who’d run to her rescue just like he’d said. Then why was he so angry?
Her gaze lingered longer than she planned because, well, this was Hunter. The man she would’ve given her heart, mind, and soul to once upon a time. They’d never gotten physically involved and she wished they had. Maybe everything would’ve worked out differently.
The man was a study in geometry, all angles and all of them squared off with sharp corners, from the fierce brows on his forehead and that jaw he kept sticking out at her, to his massive chest that looked more like two slabs of chiseled marble. He’d either pumped iron one heck of a lot since the last time they’d seen each other, or he’d done steroids.
His massive shoulders and arms were streaked with welts. All needed to be cleaned, some stitched. A dusting of dark hair shadowed his chin as well as his tanned and glistening pecs. Numerous tattoos covered his thick chest, biceps, and arms all the way to the backs of his fingers.
At first glance, he didn’t look a thing like the cute guy she’d known in college. If she’d seen him on the street, she would’ve walked on by and been none the wiser. There was no trace of humor or softness, no evidence of that dark blond hair neatly parted on the right and combed like he was always ready for church. Cynicism had replaced the sweet, wide-open smile she’d fallen in love with. Black ink, scars, and a deep bronze tan covered the once fair-skinned body. Maybe that was what happened when men became soldiers. Maybe they grew darker from the inside out from all they’d seen and done. Hunter certainly had.
Hunter (In the Company of Snipers Book 14) Page 4