by Sabrina York
When he’d fallen, the earth had trembled.
And he had saved her.
Maybe.
Probably.
It was only polite to save him back.
Another call, closer, sent her hurtling into action. She fumbled about her rescuer’s belt until she found something that felt like the hilt of a knife. She pulled it from its scabbard with a deadly ring. It glinted with what little light there was. A shudder rippled through her.
Holy Hannah. This was a knife.
Without hesitation she cut several bushes and laid them over him. She had to bend his legs up so his long body would be off the path, but she was able to manage that. Then she covered her head with the “modesty shawl” the pirates had given her, and hunkered down by his side…just as a group of scruffy men came into view.
Lily froze as she recognized them. Kaafi, Mahdi, and Saalim.
Mahdi and Saalim weren’t so bad, but Kaafi had cuffed her so hard the first day here, she’d tumbled to the ground. And he’d looked at her. With a very unpleasant glint in his eyes. She sucked in a breath and held it as they walked by, guns raised, scanning the beach. A bug crawled on her cheek. She didn‘t even stir to wave it away.
Just as they passed, her rescuer groaned. Lily’s heart lurched. She clapped her hand over his mouth. Kaafi stopped and glanced around with narrowed eyes. Lily counted the seconds in the throb of her pulse.
When he finally turned and followed the others, she nearly collapsed, but she didn’t. She was too frightened to move.
She sat in that position, without so much as a twitch, for a very long time. The familiar sounds of the night enrobed her. She listened to the shush of waves, the occasional caw of a night bird, the chirp of crickets, trying to hear above it all. And, for God’s sake, trying not to fall sleep.
A dull thudding sound snapped her to attention. She scanned the sky and saw several long, narrow shadows approach. Her heart lifted, and then it dropped like a lead weight. Even if she leaped to her feet and screamed and waved her arms, the helicopters would never see her.
But she might attract a pirate or two.
So instead of running out onto the beach as she longed to do, she hunkered deeper and watched the choppers pass them by.
Her choice was a good one. For even as the choppers disappeared from view, she heard a cry go up behind her and the pounding footsteps as the pirates raced to intercept the crafts.
Thankfully, they were running away from her flimsy shelter.
The night wore on and Lily remained as vigilant as she could, guarding her savior. Occasionally she checked his neck for a pulse and was reassured when she found it; it seemed stronger each time. That simple touch was more heartening than she ever could have imagined. Beyond that, his neck was smooth, his skin soft and warm. She found herself resting her hand there, even when she wasn’t checking for a pulse, just so she didn’t feel so alone.
She wondered about him. What his name was. How badly he was hurt. What his life was like… She decided it must be very exciting indeed, if this was a typical night for him. She’d often wished she were a daring soul. Wished she could have wild, madcap adventures.
Although, after this, she would probably pass on adventures for a while.
In retrospect, she realized it had been wrong of her to sneak off with Brandy on this trip without telling anyone—her family must be worried sick—but she’d desperately needed to get away…and live for once. If she married Jeremy, as her parents wanted, this would be the last thing she ever did that was in the slightest spontaneous. Or daring. Or interesting.
She brushed away a bug and wrinkled her nose. She didn’t want to marry Jeremy.
Not that there was anything wrong with him. He didn’t smell bad or yell at her. He brought her chocolates—though not the ones she liked. He had a Jaguar. And a beach house. And a hot tub.
But these weren’t what she wanted in a marriage. She wanted a soul mate, someone she could talk to and laugh with. She wanted that one great love. She wanted…passion.
And while Jeremy had passion—for his Jag, for his beach house, and even for her, when football wasn’t on—she’d discovered she didn’t have passion for him. At least, not the kind of passion she longed for.
She’d never met a man who made her feel the way she wanted to feel, but she knew there had to be more. Some elusive…something. She’d just never found it in any of the men she’d dated. She wasn’t sure if it was their fault, her fault, or just nobody’s fault.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized she probably didn’t want to get married at all. If nothing else, this trauma had made one thing crystal clear.
This was her life. The only one she got—unless the Hindus were right and there was such a thing as reincarnation. But that was hardly the point. The point was, she was in charge.
Maybe her life had been so boring because she’d let her father script it. Maybe it was time to grab hold of the reins, whether he liked it or not. And even though this rebellion hadn’t worked out so well, perhaps the next one would.
The man at her side groaned again and Lily stroked his hair. She had no idea where his helmet had gone. He’d lost it sometime during their headlong flight, or when he’d fallen, but she didn’t want to leave him to look for it. Her fingers came across a damp spot on the back of his head, most likely where he’d been hit. It didn’t feel like a bullet wound—not that she knew what one might feel like. At any rate, there wasn’t much she could do about it in the dark.
She felt carefully for any other injuries and when she found none, she relaxed and curled up by his side and used him as her pillow.
Hopefully he wouldn’t mind.
In the end, she didn’t care if he did mind, because he was a terrible pillow. He was, in fact, as hard as a rock.
Chapter Four
Stone opened his eyes and winced as the sunlight scored his corneas. Then he groaned as that tiny wince sent a shard of pain through his head. He tried to sit up but something was weighing him down. What the—
He glanced at his chest and froze. A tangle of feathery curls spread out all over his body. She was spread out all over his body. And shit, it felt good.
The events of the previous night washed through him and he almost winced again; he stopped himself in time.
What a clusterfuck.
The mission had gone bad and in a big way.
He had no idea if his men had reached the LZ with their hostages. No idea if they were dead or alive. If they’d been taken prisoner.
He had no idea if Drake was safe.
Shit.
It didn’t matter though. He couldn’t afford to go back and check. The pirates were still out there, and heavily armed. What he did know was that they’d missed the pick-up. His best option was to continue to the secondary extraction point on the other island. Without moving, he checked the angle of the sun—early morning—and calculated the direction they needed to head.
It would be dangerous moving during the day—the pirates had probably increased their patrols—but if they kept to the tree line, making sure to walk on the packed dirt, they wouldn’t leave a trail.
He looked down at her again and his heart swelled. Damn, she was a pretty thing. Especially asleep. Her features were soft and sweet, her mouth slightly agape. A tiny snore rumbled. He hated to wake her, but they needed to get moving.
“Liliana?” He shook her gently. “Liliana?”
She snuffled and murmured—again, fascinating to watch those lips move—and then her eyes opened. As it had last night in the shadows of the hut, her gaze gutted him. Bright and blue, clear. Her lashes fluttered. They were long and dark, a stunning counterpoint to her light hair.
She stared at him for a moment. “Oh,” she said. “Hello.”
He attempted a smile. “Good morning.”
Her mouth worked as though she was searching for words. Then she said the most incongruous thing. “I’m so glad you are not dead.”
He couldn’t stop his bark of laughter. He wished he had, because it hurt. “I’m glad too.”
She sat up and he tried to ignore the wave of regret as she angled away, out from under the bushes that shielded them. Had he really thought to hold her…forever? She brushed her tangled hair from her face and stared at him with wide eyes. “I wasn’t sure for a while.”
“I’m fine.” He tried to follow her out of the foliage, but it clung to him. He realized it wasn’t rooted to the ground. “What is this?” he muttered, pushing it away.
“Oh. They were coming, so I borrowed your knife and cut some branches for us to hide under.” She blinked as his attention snapped to her. “I…hope you don’t mind.”
Mind?
She wrinkled her nose and gestured to his waist. “I put it back.”
Holy hell. “They were coming, so you cut a bunch of branches and covered us?”
“Y-yes. They would have found us if I hadn’t.”
No doubt.
Shit. He benched twice her weight on a typical day, and she—this tiny thing—had saved his life. Cut some bushes to hide them. In the dark. Under extreme pressure.
He realized he was staring at her, probably the way he stared at his men sometimes, because her chin wobbled. “I put it back,” she repeated in a small voice.
He forced a smile, because it seemed necessary to reassure her. And, perhaps, because he felt like smiling. “Sweetheart, you saved us both. Are you sure you’re not a SEAL?”
And damn, it was worth it, that smile, when relief flooded her features and she grinned back. He had no idea why his heart skipped a beat. You would have thought he’d hung the moon, the way she gazed at him. But all she said was, “Oh. Good. I’m Lily, by the way.” She thrust out her hand.
He was loath to take it, but did. Tingles danced up his arm. “Stone.” Her snort surprised him. “What?”
“Nothing.” Her eyes glimmered. It wasn’t nothing. “Is that your real name?”
“It’s what people call me.”
“Why do they call you Stone?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Because I’m hard.” Hard-hearted. Cold as a stone. Impervious. But he didn’t feel cold around her. Around her, he felt hot.
She nodded. “You are hard. I noticed that last night.”
His pulse leaped. Something tightened at his core.
“Not a very good pillow at all.”
Oh. Right. That kind of hard.
“It’s probably all my gear,” he said gruffly, patting his vest, which was filled with ballistic plates, ordnance, survival gear, and all kinds of shit. And she’d slept on him. Draped over him—
His cock stirred. He raked his hair and cringed when he hit a tender spot on the back of his scalp. His hand came back bloody.
She gasped. “Oh, we should probably tend that.”
He nodded and pulled out his small first aid kit. An alcohol swab was probably as good as it got for now. To his horror, she took it from him and walked on her knees behind him.
“Oh my,” she murmured as she studied his wound, riffling her fingers through the stubble of his hair. He flinched when she touched him. “Did that hurt?”
Not in the way she meant. “It’s fine. Just swab it and make sure it’s clean, okay?”
“Okay.” Her touch was gentle. She dabbed at the wound tentatively. He would have just burrowed in. “I think it was a piece of rock,” she said. “I was worried it was a bullet.”
“It wasn’t a bullet.” He knew what a bullet felt like. “Most likely a ricochet.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Should I wrap it?”
He frowned over his shoulder at her. Right. Just what he needed, to stumble across the island looking like the walking dead. “No. It’ll be fine.” He pulled away, because she was still stroking his scalp and it was far too alluring. No. Not alluring. Annoying. That’s what it was. “Thank you. Have you, um, seen my helmet?” If he lost it, he’d never live it down. The night-vision goggles alone were worth a fortune.
“Let me look.” She stood slowly, scanning the area, checking for hostiles, before she made her way through the grasses and scrub, hunting for his brain bucket. He would have helped, but his head was still a little woozy; he focused on getting his vision to uncross. “I don’t see it,” she huffed, dropping back down by his side.
Stone nodded. When he found his feet, he’d search as well. It had to be here. “Are you hungry?”
He asked because her belly growled loudly enough to attract pirates on the mainland.
“A little.” She licked her lips. “But I’m really thirsty.”
He pulled out the straw of his CamelBak and leaned forward, holding it to her lips. He should have shuttled off all his gear and just handed the damn thing to her, because when she leaned in close and he got a whiff of her, he nearly passed out. You would think a woman who had been held prisoner by filthy pirates for nearly a week would smell bad. She did not. She smelled like heaven. There was a light musky odor of sweat—it was hot in the tropics—but it twined with something that was essentially female.
He’d never felt such hunger. It screamed through his soul.
And, on top of that, their faces were close. And she was sucking on the nozzle. And fuck.
He was a warrior. A trained weapon. On a mission.
This was no time for a hard-on.
But he was hard. Damn hard.
Her lashes flickered as she glanced up at him; she moaned as she swallowed. A shiver walked down his spine. Walked right down his spine and coiled in his balls.
When she sat back with a sigh, he put the nozzle to his lips as well. Not because he was particularly thirsty, but because he wanted a taste of her mouth, while it was still fresh.
What he really wanted was to kiss her. But she was the senator’s daughter and he was a grunt. That wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t.
“Did…did you say something about food?” Damn lashes. Fluttering again. He had the urge to grab his Gerber and snip them off.
He pulled an MRE from a pocket on his left leg, read the label, and grimaced. He hated the meatloaf. He should have paid more attention when he prepped his gear. He had more in his pack, but this would do for now. “I have this.”
Her nose wrinkled as she studied the silver foil.
Yeah. Wait ’til she got a taste. He ripped open the packet, broke off a piece, and handed it to her. It was messy because of the gravy, but he didn’t want to unload everything to find an implement. They needed to eat and go.
She took a bite. Her eyes widened. “Yuuum,” she said in an unconvincing tone.
It was all he could do to hold back his laugh.
“What…” She swallowed heavily. “What is this?”
“An MRE.”
“What does that stand for?”
His lips quirked. “Meals Rarely Edible.”
Her brow wrinkled, and then she laughed.
And ah, what a laugh. A melodic trill. Some kind of sound he figured you might hear in heaven.
“Do you eat these often?”
“Not if I can help it.” He shoved a chunk in his mouth and fired it back. “But we have a long way to go today, and these have a lot of calories.”
She froze, a niblette of mystery meat halfway to her mouth. “H-how many calories?”
“About twelve hundred a meal.”
She gaped at him. “Twelve hundred?” She glared at the meatloaf as though it were made of turds. Then again, it might have been. “And you gave it to me? To eat?”
“Yeah. You’ll need it.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?” She smacked him. It was like being batted by a kitten. “Twelve hundred calories is my whole day!”
He grinned. He could burn that much with a good fart. “Perfect. It’s probably all you’ll get. Eat up.”
“For twelve hundred calories, I could have eaten a cheesecake.”
He looked around for the cheesecake.
She shoved her tiny chunk of meatloaf
at him. “Here, you eat it.”
He pushed it back. “You eat it. We have a lot of ground to cover today.”
“We do?” She tipped her head to the side. “Where are we going?”
“There’s an island to the south.” He grabbed a stick and sketched out a quick map. “We’re here. At the north end of this island. And the secondary extraction point is here.”
Her throat worked. “How will we get to the other island?”
“Swim.”
She paled. “I-I can’t swim.”
It was probably rude to stare. But really? She couldn’t swim? Who couldn’t swim? “You never wanted to learn?”
“Oh, I wanted to.” She sighed. “My mother was afraid I would drown.”
“Not drowning is kind of the point of swimming.”
“She wanted to keep me safe.” He didn’t miss the exasperation in her tone. “I didn’t get to do a lot of things. Which is probably why— And wouldn’t you know it? The first time?” She gazed at him as though she’d finished a sentence. As though he’d understood a bit of what she’d said.
“Well, don’t worry. We’ll get you home safe. And then everything will be just the way it was before.”
Her sudden frown mystified him.
* * *
They finished eating and had a little more to drink, and then Stone buried the evil foil packet in the sand. Lily could only hope it didn’t sprout an MRE tree. But as horrible as that meatloaf had been, her tummy was full. She was suddenly filled with energy.
“Are you ready to head out?” he asked. His eyes were unusually bright as they fixed on her, but she figured they only seemed so because of the dark camo still streaking his face. She couldn’t help wondering what he looked like under all that. His features were sharp and hard, like his name, but she liked the jut of his chin, she liked his high cheekbones and that long straight blade of a nose. His ears were kind of big though. She really liked his neck. It was thick and muscled and the skin there was soft and tanned a toasty brown. His hair was dark and she thought, perhaps, if it weren’t so closely cropped, it would curl a little.