TrustMe

Home > Nonfiction > TrustMe > Page 7
TrustMe Page 7

by Unknown


  “Give me a few minutes and I’ll show you,” he reassured her. Having committed the area’s topography to memory, he retrieved his mental map, checked his bearings and shifted their path even farther to the right.

  With what felt like agonizing slowness despite their wide-open pace, they worked their way down and across the small valley floor, dodging vines, going under and around tree limbs, doing their best not to trip over the plant roots that twisted over the leaf-littered ground.

  Off to the south, a distant clap of thunder rumbled. A quick glance toward the coast showed Dominic that a low ceiling of gray clouds now crowded the horizon. Whether they’d arrive in time to aid him and Lilah with their current problem was debatable, but it was still nice to know that inclement weather was headed this way. A little rain would be the icing on the cake of their escape, insuring that the dogs had not so much as a hint of a trail to follow.

  Beside him, Lilah stumbled and he checked his stride to steady her. “You all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she said instantly.

  A quick glance was all it took to reveal her assertion was open to debate. Her pants and shirt were torn, she had an angry-looking welt on one cheek, a long scratch on one forearm and numerous small bloody scratches on her ankles and feet. The injuries made him wince—she had such smooth, tender skin—but since there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about them at the moment, he did what he was trained to do.

  He shoved his concerns into a dark room in his mind and slammed the door until he had the time to deal with them.

  He forced his attention back to cat-footing it through the amazing forest of car-sized boulders suddenly rising out of the verdant ground. Just when he was starting to think that he’d miscalculated their location, the land opened up and his navigating skills were rewarded with the sight of a wide ribbon of silver flashing through the foliage ahead. Skirting piles of deadfall no doubt deposited by flooding during the rainy season, he led Lilah down one last long slope, around a dense thicket of mangrove and out into a narrow clearing.

  Stretching before them was a wide creek bed, the crystal clear water rushing swiftly over a bed of rocks. Without breaking stride, Dom plunged into the calf-high water. “Just a little farther,” he told Lilah, sliding his hand up to grip her upper arm and steady her against the current, “and you can rest.”

  Moving as swiftly as he dared given the slick footing, he jogged downstream, staying in the center of the riverbed as it twisted and curved through a series of switchbacks.

  Not until half a dozen bends separated them from the spot where they’d entered the water, which was growing steadily deeper, did Dom slow his pace.

  Dead ahead, the stream split around an island the size of a flatbed truck. Judging it perfect for his purposes, he twisted around and scooped Lilah into his arms.

  “What are you doing!” Her eyes going wide in her damp, flushed face, she locked her arms around his neck.

  “Giving you a boost.” Having reached the island, he deposited her atop its fern-choked bank, disengaged her arms and took a half step back. He slipped his pack off, slung it to the ground and retrieved the gun, shoving it in its oilskin wrapper into the back of his waistband. “Take this—” he gestured at the pack “—get out of sight behind that—” he indicated the man-sized boulder that straddled the island’s center “—and stay put. I’ll be back.”

  “Back?” She scrambled to her knees, shoving the tangled mane of her hair off her face. “What do you mean? Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to go lay a diversionary trail.”

  “But—”

  “Do you understand what I just told you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You trust me, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then go,” he said sharply. “I won’t be long.”

  He watched as her mouth slammed shut and her chin came up. Reassured that she’d do as he’d asked, he started to turn away, only to have her surprise him one more time.

  “Wait.” Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a fierce hug. “Be careful,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

  Then she let go, sank onto her heels and he turned and set off back the way they’d just come.

  Dominic’s backpack weighed a ton.

  Stunned at the idea that he’d actually been running beneath its weight, Lilah gritted her teeth and hauled it toward the big rock the way he’d instructed.

  Although “instructed” was putting an exceedingly pretty construction on it, she reflected as the pack bumped over the uneven ground. Ordered was more like it.

  No doubt she’d have found that exceedingly irritating under different circumstances. Yet it was hard to take issue with the man when he was risking his life for hers. Particularly when he continued to prove that, just as he claimed, he was more than qualified to deal with whatever fortune threw their way.

  He was also in even more incredible shape than she’d already noted, she mused, as with a final yank she towed his backpack into the little copse behind the boulder and collapsed on her backside beside it. Not only did his body seem to be one long stretch of so-hard-you-could-bounce-a-nickel-off-them muscles, but nothing seemed to tire him out.

  Out of nowhere, an image curled through her mind of lying within the circle of his arms, his chest gleaming with sweat as the two of them rocked together, his fingers laced through hers, his mouth latched to her nipple, his hips grinding tirelessly as he filled her. And then they’d move together for satisfaction, and he’d rock deeper and deeper and deeper until she was screaming his name—

  With a choked laugh at the ache that suddenly throbbed between her thighs, she flopped onto her back and squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, that’s rich, Lilah. Dominic’s off playing hide-and-seek with a bunch of bloodthirsty dogs and their equally bloodthirsty handlers and you’re making him the star of your X-rated fantasies.

  Yet even as she told herself she ought to be ashamed, she simply wasn’t. It had been a very long time since she’d been with a man. In point of fact, in all the years since Dominic there’d been only two, and both those relationships had been sadly unsatisfying.

  So she was entitled to dream a little. After all, it wasn’t as if she had something better to do. And heaven help her, even if the opportunity to turn her fantasy to reality should magically transpire, she wasn’t sure she could scrape together the energy to pucker up her lips, much less engage in hot, sweaty, world-rocking sex.

  The truth was, not only did every muscle in her body hurt, but she ached in places she wasn’t sure even had muscles. Odd places, like the tops of her feet and the backs of her knees and the inner curves of her sides beneath her arms. Heck, thanks to her hair getting snagged by every kind of the native flora, even her head burned.

  She was also certain that she’d never, ever been this dirty before in her life. Opening her eyes, it took only a quick look to confirm that all the exposed parts of her skin were coated with dust that was charmingly stuck to the sheen of perspiration that covered her. Her scalp felt gummy, her hair stiff and a quick sniff was enough to confirm that she smelled worse than a wild goat.

  Not that she had a clue how a wild goat smelled. But it had to be better than her….

  Wrinkling her nose, she twisted onto her side and stared longingly at the stream flowing by just a few feet away. She supposed it could actually be considered a river since, in just the stretch that she and Dom had traveled, it had doubled in width and gone from a few inches deep to several feet.

  Whatever the correct term, it looked deliciously inviting, even if the water wasn’t steal-your-breath cold the way it was back home in Colorado. But still…squeezing her eyes shut, she imagined stripping off her clothes and immersing her hot, sweaty self in its clean, cool depths. The thought of rinsing the salt from her hair and the grime from her skin was a temptation almost too appealing to resist.

  Except that Dominic had told her to stay put. He hadn’t sa
id to bathe or wash her clothes or work on her sidestroke.

  He’d told her to get out of sight and wait. So she would.

  Rolling onto her back again, she covered her eyes and did her best to relax, telling herself she’d lay there for the rest of her life if that’s how long it took for him to return. And put her energy into praying that he was safe, wherever he was.

  She wasn’t sure how much time passed. At some point—twenty, forty, sixty minutes after Dominic’s departure?—she thought she heard the dogs barking and men shouting to each other, but the sounds were faint and quickly faded away.

  And then the sun disappeared behind a sluggish smear of clouds and she totally lost track of time. Overcast or not, the day remained hot, humid, oppressive, and she may even have dozed for a little while.

  It was the splash of rain on her face that jarred her back to awareness. For a moment, she simply lay still, looking up at the gray sky, wondering if she’d imagined that wonderful dampness. And then a handful more fat, wet drops splattered across her hot skin. Licking her salty lips, she remained prone and was rewarded as a minute later, a sound like dozens of chattering castanets seemed to approach as the wind rattled through the treetops, bringing with it more rain.

  Then there was a crack of thunder and the sky opened and it was like being hit with the spray from a garden hose. Scrambling upright, Lilah raised her face to the deluge, welcoming the cool, cleansing torrent.

  It only took another moment for her to realize this was an opportunity not to be missed. Reaching over, she began searching through the many pockets sewn into Dom’s pack. She hit the jackpot on her fifth try; tucked into a small plastic-lined sleeve was a pristine bar of plain white soap.

  Lilah couldn’t have been more thrilled if it had been the finest French mill. Newly grateful for the privacy of her hiding place, she had her sandals, slacks and Dom’s T-shirt off in a New York minute, draping the clothing over the nearest bush.

  She washed her face first. Then, giving in to vanity, she soaped her hair from roots to ends, almost moaning with delight as the rain drummed down, leaving the long strands feeling smooth and silky as she ran her fingers through them, working out the worst of the tangles. She gathered the slippery mass into a thick rope and twisted what water she could out of it, but it was a lost cause since it was still raining as if it would never stop.

  Giving up, she concentrated on scrubbing the rest of her body. She did her arms, legs and feet after first soaping her more private places, smiling inwardly as she imagined Millie, her grandmother’s very fastidious housekeeper, reacting to the discovery that Lilah had laundered her imported silk underthings while she was still in them. Then she again tipped up her face and simply stood there, letting the rain sluice over her.

  “So. Is this a private party?”

  At the sound of Dominic’s voice, her eyes flew open and she nearly jumped straight out of her freshly washed skin. She spun around, her heart jammed in her throat in the second before she saw it was really him.

  “Or…”

  Arms crossed, one hip propped against the side of her sheltering rock, he took his time speaking as his gaze slid slowly over her, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake.

  “…can anybody come?”

  She swallowed, trying to defeat the lump still making it hard to breathe as relief warred with awareness.

  Thank God he was all right.

  And yet, the way he looked…At some point in his excursion, he’d tied a rolled black bandanna around his well-shaped head. With a day’s plus beard shadowing his lean cheeks, his wet T-shirt molded to his broad chest and washboard abs, and that very male look on his unsmiling face, he looked like some modern mercenary poster boy.

  Lilah swallowed again, asking herself what she was waiting for. He wasn’t more than a few feet away. Two steps and they’d be toe-to-toe. One more and she’d be in his arms, and after that….

  After that, she could quit imagining. She could experience what it would feel like to peel off her bra and panties, wrap her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and lean back against the rough wet warmth of what she was starting to think of as her boulder.

  She could feel his mouth on hers, hot and hungry as his hands slid over her wet slippery skin, cupping the weight of her breasts, shaping her nipples, gripping her spread thighs. And then he’d come driving home, making her eyes squeeze shut and her stomach hollow as he thrust himself into her. Her back would bow, her toes would curl and her fingers would clutch the smooth, steely heat of his wide shoulders—

  “Water’s rising.” Dominic’s voice, as jagged as a whipsaw, jerked her back to reality. She watched, her pulse still racing, as he straightened, yanked the bandanna down around his neck and raked a hand through his thick black hair. “As much as I hate to say it, you’d better get your clothes on. We’ve got to go.”

  “What?” Her throat was now so tight the word was barely more than a whisper.

  But he heard her. “Look around.” His gaze raked her one more time, then his mouth hardened into a thin line and he bent over and began securing all the flaps she’d undone on his backpack. “The stream’s coming up. Another twenty minutes and this will all be underwater. We need to get to higher ground. And we need to do it now.”

  “Oh.” Oh, indeed. Suddenly she was acutely aware she was still just standing there, eating him up with her gaze, while her nipples—along with the rest of her flesh—were clearly visible through her transparent underwear.

  She snatched her soggy T-shirt from its leafy resting place and yanked it over her head, then struggled into her wet pants. By the time Dominic straightened, she had her sandals on and buckled and had retrieved the soap from the dirt where it had slipped unnoticed out of her hand.

  “Here,” she said like a good little soldier, offering him the bar.

  His piercing green gaze swept over her. As if he could see straight to her soul and see the sudden uncertainty there, the promise of satisfaction suddenly raged to life in his eyes. “Soon,” he said in a gravelly voice, his fingers lingering on hers a second before he took the soap and shoved it out of sight.

  And just like that, with that single word of assurance, the chill that had been creeping over her skin vanished.

  She waited as he scrubbed his palm against his camo pants, then she stepped close, slipped her hand into his and let him lead her toward the water. She hesitated, however, as she took her first good look at the tame little stream that was now a torrent. “Wow. It’s going really fast, isn’t it?” Having grown up where she had, she’d heard of flash floods, of course. But she’d never imagined a landscape could change so fast.

  “Yeah, but not as fast as it’s going to. So hold on to my waistband and don’t let go, okay?” Dominic said, slinging the pack over his left shoulder so she’d have access. “And quit looking so worried. We don’t have that far to go and as I told you before, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “I know.”

  “Good. But just in case you need an incentive—” one more time his gaze kissed her face, only this time he flashed that killer grin that ought to come with a label warning vulnerable women to guard their hearts “—if you’re a good girl I’ll give you a real thrill when we get where we’re going.”

  She lifted her chin, doing her best to look cool and confident even though she suddenly could barely breathe. “Oh, really?”

  “You can bet on it.” And then, in one of those lightning transitions she was starting to expect, he was all business, turning and waiting for her to get a firm grip on him before he struck out into the rising water.

  To her surprise, the water still didn’t feel very cold. And though she was taken aback to find it swirling from her knees to her waist to just below her breasts as they reached the midway point, it seemed to her they were making good time.

  She never saw the chunk of debris that struck her. One second, she was staring fixedly at Dominic’s broad back, marveling at his stren
gth as he plowed ahead like a one man Navy destroyer; the next something slammed into her knees, knocking her legs out from beneath her, then bashed into her elbow, striking her hard on her funny bone. Pain shot up her arm and her fingers went slack, sliding out of the belt loop that had kept her anchored to Dominic.

  And then everything went gray as she went under, the water closing over her head as she was swept away, tumbling over and over in the teeming current.

  Seven

  I t wasn’t going to be bloodhounds or unpredictable weather or El Presidente’s men that was going to do him in, Dom thought.

  Nope. It was going to be Lilah, pure and simple. Every time he turned around, the woman did something that threatened to give him a heart attack.

  With a vicious curse as the drag of her weight vanished from the back of his waistband, Dom flung his pack at the river bank and wheeled around to search for Lilah in the churning water. For what felt like the longest moments of his life, he saw nothing.

  Fear, so foreign it took him a moment to identify it, ate at him. Recognizing it as the enemy, he shoved it away and concentrated.

  Where the hell are you, princess? Come on. Don’t you go and die on me now. We’ve got some seriously unfinished business to attend to. So give me something to work with. Anything. Come on, come on, come—

  As if she’d heard his demands, Lilah broke the surface some fifteen feet away. Relief nearly dropped him to his knees in the instant it took for her to part her lips and suck in a lungful of air.

  He launched himself in her direction, his SEAL training making him as secure in the water as he was on land. Not content to simply let the current carry him, he used the bottom to propel himself forward. Yet he hadn’t covered more than a few feet when the water yanked her back down and she disappeared from sight.

 

‹ Prev