“Roger that. I’ll call you back when I’ve got someone in the air. I’ll need your coordinates at that time. In the interim, you’re going to have to hang tight, buddy.”
“Over and out.” Bo snapped the phone closed and quickly turned it off. “Damn it.”
Rachael caught a glimpse of uneasiness in his expression as he clipped the phone to his belt. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”
“We’re on our own. Read into that what you want.”
Sighing, she looked around, studying the darkened windows, half expecting a volley of rifle fire. “I’ve been in worse situations.” She glanced at him. “I’m sure you have, too.”
“Not like this.” He shook his head as if in frustration. “I don’t like this waiting. I don’t like being outgunned. I sure as hell don’t like being left without backup.”
“If they approach via chopper, we’ll hear them.”
“Not if they put it down out of earshot and come for us on the ground.”
Despite her efforts not to, Rachael shivered. That was the worst, she thought. Not knowing where the enemy was. Not knowing how or when they would attack.
Bo must have felt her trembling because he put his arm around her. “I don’t think they know where we are.”
Rachael knew better than to take comfort in this man’s arms. She was attracted to him in a way she hadn’t been attracted to anyone since Michael’s death. Attraction could be a dangerous thing. But she’d always been attracted to danger.
“It’s only a matter of time before they figure that out,” she whispered.
“This is a big ranch. It’s surrounded by other big ranches,” he said. “They have hundreds of acres to cover.”
“Karas isn’t stupid.”
“No, but he’s just a man. He doesn’t have superhuman powers.”
“Just big guns and lots of goons without consciences.”
Dipping his head slightly, he turned her to him. When she didn’t look at him, he put his fingers beneath her chin and forced her gaze to his. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“You don’t have to make me promises like that. I know what we’re up against. I know none of what’s happening is within your control or mine.”
“The only thing we can control is how we react. We’re trained agents. We’re armed. I know the lay of the land better than they do. If things get dicey here, I know where to go.”
Because she didn’t want him to know just how frightened she had become, she forced a smile. “You mean we have a plan B?”
“The creek bed we followed to this homestead is dry most of the year. But in the spring, heavy rains cause flash floods that have cut caves into the limestone walls. It’s not the Ritz, but they’ll do in a pinch.”
“I reckon this qualifies as a pinch.”
He smiled. “Did you just say ‘reckon’?”
A tension-releasing laugh squeezed from her throat. “That was your line, wasn’t it?”
“You’ve been spending too much time with this cowboy.”
“I’m glad it’s you,” she said.
He looked away, as if her words made him uncomfortable. But he tightened his arm around her. “We’re going to get out of this just fine,” he whispered.
But Rachael figured they both knew he couldn’t guarantee anything at this point. The only thing they knew for certain was that for now they were on their own.
Chapter Ten
Bo knew better than to get this close to her. He sure as hell knew better than to hold her. But the need ate at him like acid. Rachael Armitage was one of the most courageous women he’d ever met in his life. She was tough and willing to take on the world single-handedly if that’s what it took to bring down her nemesis.
To see such a strong woman frightened to the point of trembling did something to him. Brought out the primal male need to protect. A dangerous business when there was so much physical chemistry between them. Add a hefty dose of adrenaline to the mix and he had a downright volatile situation on his hands.
But Bo had never been one to walk away from volatile.
Her eyes were as dark and luminous as the yellow glow of the stove’s flame. Within their depths he saw all the things he didn’t want to see. All the things he felt zinging around inside his own body. Fear. Adrenaline. A need that was as deep and mysterious as the night.
I’m glad it’s you.
Her words echoed inside his head like the final notes of some sad ballad. He wondered how she would feel if she knew about Mike. If she would hate him when she found out the truth…
“I can’t stop thinking about Cutter,” she said after a moment.
“He’s a strong man, both physically and mentally,” Bo said. “If anyone can get through something like that, it’s him.”
“I used to think that about Michael.”
The words went through him like a blade. Bo felt himself stiffen. His mind whirled with something to say, but there were no words. Just a deep, dark pit of guilt that churned with increasing velocity.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t,” he said a little too quickly, hating the defensive tone in his voice.
“I still think about him every day.”
“Me, too.”
She smiled, but he could see she was only trying to put him at ease. “You get into a situation like this and you can’t help but think about your own mortality.”
Bo didn’t answer. He didn’t want to think of mortality on a night when the reality of death loomed so threateningly near.
“I know you were there that night,” she said. “I read it in the report.”
“Yeah.” His voice was rough, little more than a whisper.
“We haven’t talked about it. I’ve been wanting to ask you about it.” She shrugged. “The time never seemed right.”
The time isn’t right now, either, he thought. The time would never be right for him to tell her the truth about what happened. A truth not only about him, but about the man she’d loved. “It was a tough night,” he said. “For all of us. I try not to think about it.”
“But you do think about it, don’t you?”
He turned away to stare at the darkened window and wished he was out there with the night, instead of inside with her and facing questions he did not want to answer. “Every day.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay.”
He looked at her, taken aback as much by her beauty as his reaction to her. He didn’t want to know what it would be like to look into her eyes and see hatred reflected back at him. Even though he probably deserved it.
“What exactly do you want to know, Rachael? You read the reports.” Reports that had been fabricated by Sean Cutter to protect other agents working undercover within Karas’s organization “You know what went down.”
“I mean, I know the mechanics of what happened that night. I looked at the reports the brass shared with me. But I’ve never had the courage to talk to anyone who was there.” When he looked away, she reached out and touched his cheek with her hand, guiding his gaze back to hers. “I’ve seen my share of firefights, Bo. I know sometimes what appears on paper doesn’t even begin to cover the realities of what really happened.”
And sometimes what was on paper was an outright lie, he thought darkly. “Mike died a hero,” he said thickly. “The rest of it doesn’t matter.”
Coward, a little voice accused.
“Did he screw up?” she asked. “Make a mistake? Or was he just at the wrong place at the wrong time?”
“Mike did what he had to do.” Bo closed his eyes against the slash of pain that followed. Go ahead. Tell her the truth, hotshot. Tell her you’re the one who shot him. That you’d do it all over again if faced with the same situation.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Bo, you’re shaking.” She set her hand on hi
s shoulder, but he shook it off.
“I’m fine, damn it.”
“Or maybe what happened that night left more scars on more people than you’re willing to admit.”
He risked a look at her, wishing he could tell her the truth, just to get this crushing weight off his chest. But while the truth would set him free, he knew in the end she would hate him for it.
She was breathtakingly beautiful in the yellow light from the fire. Looking into her eyes, he wondered what it would be like to touch her skin. He wondered what it would be like to lay her down and release the tension grinding inside him.
He envisioned himself leaning close and taking her lovely face between his hands. He imagined his lips touching hers. The taste of her mouth. The softness of her lips.
Temptation tugged him in one direction, guilt in another. But in the end the need to hold her was greater. Stronger than the need to do the right thing and walk away.
“You’re playing with fire, Rachael.”
“Bad habit of mine.” She started to scoot away.
Reaching out, Bo stopped her. Then, taking her hand in his, he tugged her closer. She jolted when he set his palm against her face.
“You keep making me want you,” he whispered. “What the hell am I supposed to do about that?”
“Don’t do anything.” But she leaned close and brushed her mouth against his.
The pleasure shocked his senses. The kiss was electric, her mouth everything he’d imagined and so much more. He drank in every sensation like a man dying of thirst. Soft, wet lips. A kiss so sweet and tender that for a moment all he could think of was taking her down on the floor and doing what he’d wanted to do since the moment he’d laid eyes on her.
A small voice of reason warned him that giving in to temptation was a mistake. But for the first time in what seemed like forever, Bo didn’t listen to reason. All he heard was the call of lust heating his veins. The call of something else that was as deep and elusive as the night that embraced them.
Closing his eyes against the hot rush of lust, he shoved caution aside and reveled in the feel of this beautiful woman in his arms.
IT WASN’T OFTEN that Rachael surprised herself. But she certainly had when she’d kissed Bo. And then she got a hell of a lot more than she’d bargained for.
For a moment all she could do was absorb the pleasure kicking through her veins. All thoughts of Viktor Karas fled her mind and for a small space in time she and Bo were the only two people in the world. They were no longer agents, just a man and a woman caught up in the magic of desire.
They were sitting on the floor in front of the small camping stove, their bodies turned toward each other. Vaguely, she was aware of the hiss of butane as it burned. The nearly silent whisper of the wind outside the window. The call of an owl somewhere in the night.
Bo shifted closer and leaned into the kiss. Another layer of pleasure enveloped her when he put his arms around her and pushed her back. She could feel her heart beating like a drum in her chest. The roar of her pulse in her ears. Desire rose like a flashflood.
She didn’t intend to let this continue. Rachael was far too smart—far too focused—to fall for something as banal as her hormones. But the feel of his mouth called to long-buried needs. She hadn’t kissed a man since Michael. Never even wanted to until now. But she definitely wanted to kiss Bo.
Logic told her to pull away and get the situation under control. But when he moved over her and pressed his body to hers, the protest lodged in her throat transformed into a sound of acquiescence that slid between her lips like a sigh.
His body was lean and rock hard against hers. Somehow her arms had gone around him. She could feel him trembling against her, the steel shaft of his arousal pressing insistently against her belly.
He kissed her in a way that left no question that he was ready, willing and able to take this farther if she didn’t put a stop to it now.
But the pleasure tore down her resistance. The razor-sharp edge of desire overrode her need for control. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips. At the same time his hands slid from her face to her shoulders.
Turning his head slightly, he whispered, “Open to me.”
The words came to her as if from a great distance. And even though logic ordered her to end this before things got out of hand, she opened to him.
His tongue slid between her teeth and went in deep. Rachael’s control snapped. A wave of desire swamped her. She kissed him back, her tongue entwining with his as he explored her mouth. Good judgment and lust warred inside her. But she knew which would win.
His hands slid beneath the front of her jacket. With deft fingers he unfastened the buttons and opened it. For a moment the only sound came from the hard rush of their labored breathing.
Her mind spun out all the reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this, the most obvious being the ruthless band of thugs who wanted them dead. But her body didn’t care.
“I want to touch you,” Bo whispered. “I’ve wanted to touch you since the moment I saw you.”
He didn’t wait for permission.
A groan squeezed from her throat when he set his hands over her breasts. All the while he kissed her senseless. Kissed her until she could think of nothing but easing the high-wire tension running through her body.
Sliding his hands beneath her sweatshirt, he brushed his fingers over her bra. A new and intense pleasure gripped her when his roughened fingers brushed over her sensitized nipples through the fabric. She arched, giving him full access.
He fumbled with the closure of her bra. Rachael gasped when the scrap of material opened.
“You’re beautiful,” Bo whispered.
For an instant she felt vulnerable and exposed. Then he lowered his mouth to her breast and all she felt was the contact of his lips against her skin.
She cried out when he suckled her, first one breast, then the other. The pleasure clamped down on her like a vise being turned ever tighter. She writhed beneath his ministrations. Her blood roared like a train in her ears. She could feel the blood pooling low in her body. The dampness between her legs.
She wasn’t sure what pulled her back to reality. Perhaps the knowledge that at some point she’d relinquished her control. That she’d gone beyond the point of good judgment. Beyond logic. For the first time she heard the little voice in her head calling out for her to stop before things went too far. Before she did something irrevocable. Something she would be sorry for later.
In one smooth motion, she rolled out from beneath him and scrambled to her feet. For several interminable seconds, she stood there staring at him, her breaths rushing out as if she’d just run a mile. Bo was sitting on the floor, looking as if he’d just wakened from some erotic dream. But his eyes were not sleepy. Even in the glow of the small heater, Rachael could see the undeniable heat of lust in them.
“I can’t.” The voice that squeezed from her throat sounded nothing like hers.
“It’s all right.” Bo’s voice was just as foreign. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t apologize,” she said.
Never taking his eyes from hers, he got to his feet. He was looking at her the same way he’d looked at the frightened horse that day in the round pen. As if she were about to bolt.
It wasn’t far from the truth. For the first time in a long time, Rachael wanted to run. Away from the emotions pounding her like waves. Away from the all the things he made her feel, made her want. Away from the man himself because she’d promised herself she would never feel again.
Spinning, she headed toward the back door. She heard him call out her name as she flung it open. But she didn’t stop. Forgetting about the men who wanted her dead, she ran into the night toward the cover of the shed row.
Chapter Eleven
Bo shouldn’t let her go. It wasn’t safe for her to venture out. If Karas’s men did a flyby at that moment—if the chopper was equipped with infrared—her body heat would stand out like a beacon and give a
way their position.
But because he didn’t trust himself to keep his distance—because he was still painfully aroused—he stood his ground in the small living room and let her go.
“What the hell are you doing?” he muttered.
His voice was rough. To his surprise, he was still breathless. He could still feel the hot rush of blood through his veins. The pound of lust in his groin. But worse than the physical frustration was the knowledge that he’d screwed things up royally. He’d been hired to keep her safe from a group of criminals that wanted her dead. Not only was he on the verge of failing that, but he couldn’t even muster the discipline to keep his hands off her.
“Better to let things cool off before you go running after her,” he said aloud.
Scraping a hand over his unshaven jaw, he walked to the small kitchen and looked through the window at the darkness beyond and tried to school his thoughts into the mindset of the agent he’d once been. But he could no more conjure a logical thought than he could control his body. The truth of the matter was he wanted her. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman in his life.
But aside from his mission to keep her safe, there was also the problem of the truth. A truth he had yet to tell her. A truth that would bring an end to whatever it was that was happening between them.
“What a mess,” he muttered.
He owed her an apology. For kissing her. For touching her when he should have been concentrating on keeping her safe. He owed it to himself to set things straight between them. More to the point, he needed to come clean about what happened two years ago.
Sighing, Bo left the house and headed toward the shed row. Around him, the night was cold and clear. The wind had kicked up, rustling the leaves of the cottonwood trees. A three quarter moon cast just enough light for him to find his way to the shed row without using the flashlight.
He found her with the horses, as he’d expected. She looked up when he entered the shed. Taking the tiny penlight from his jacket, he shone it on the ground to let her know he was approaching.
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